THE POET AND THE BABY, r I
I
Cow's a man to write a sonnet, can you
tell—
How’s he going to weave the dim poetic
spell—
When a-toddling on the floor
Is the muse he must adore,
▲nd this muse he loves, not wisely, but '
too well.
Now to write a sonnet, overyone
One must always be as quiet as a
allows,
mouse,
But to write one seems to me
Quite superfluous to be,
When you’ve got a little sonnet in the
house.
Just a dainty little poem, true and fine,
That is full of love and life in every line,
Earnest, delicate and sweet,
Altogether so complete
That I wonder what's the use of writing
mine.
—Paul Laurence Dunbar.
I
£
'S
A MOUNTAIN GIRL.
*
£
2
***** H*«H*Hi*li«4'ysiM
9 OTO IS morning. The rising sun
Just tops the crest of that por-
tion of the Appalachian chain
of mountains between the northern and
southern boundaries of the State of
Kentucky, tinging Its peaks and crags
with n grayish vagueness. From every
ravine and gorge huge clouds of smoke
like mist arise, assuming wondrously
odd and fantastic forms In the uncer
tain light. The stillness engendered by
the natural environments and the time
of day Is unbroken save now and then
by the far-off bay of a foxhound float
ing faintly from some mountaineer's
cabin, or the whistle of a dove’s wings
as It flies swiftly by to the sedge fields.
The sun climbs higher, and conscious
of its might, drives back to earth the
quenching mists. The rear guard
shadows of the night are mysteriously
disappearing The smoke of numerous
cabin chimneys can now be distin
guished rising in curling columns of
blue. Along the rutty clay road, or
rather mountain path, and hugging the
wormeaten rail fence for safety a red
fox slinks under cover of the abler
bushes, his whiskers and brush brist
ling with pendant drops of early morn
ing dew. A mother quail and her
brood, that have been pluming their
feathers on a topmost rail, with an
affrighted whirr fly to cover.
Presently a soldier in his uniform
comes galloping furiously down the
road; be passes'at full speed; the sound
of bls steed’s hoof beats grow fainter,
and silence for a few minutes again
reigns, only to be broken by a dozen or
more men In uniforms of the other side,
who break cover and also come down
the road like mad; their horses reeking
with sweat and blood. The first man,
farther down where the road forks, has
turned to the right; these others take
the left-hand branch. In a few mo
ments shots are heard, and presently
a horse, the one ridden by the first
man, comes galloping back to be met
and caught by a slim, dark-eyed moun
tain girl, who comes suddenly out of
the bushes from somewhere. She
stands there holding the bridle reins in
her right band; the left is pressed hard
against her heart as if to ward off an
unseen blow. Her eyes stony In their
intensity, look off far up the valley to
a break In the mountains, where God's
good morning displays its brightest
rays. Her gnze finally turns slowly to
the pursuers, who at sound of the shots
have ridden back to the forks, and
catching sight of the girl and the horse
conies excitedly up the road toward
her.
“Bob Jordan's darter," says one of
them.
"Jes' es I thought," laconically replies
he, who appears to lie In command.
“The peaky critter’s got warnin' frum
aum'ers, or he'd bln’r gone fawn skin
afore now. Whut air you adoln’ heah
at this time o' day?” he demands of her.
For the first time the girl seems to take
full notice of their presence.
“Did ye heali whut I sed?" he de
mands more comtnandlngly.
“I'd like to know whut consarn that
Is uv your'n?” she replies, turning to
him defiantly.
“Ain’t er body got a good right ter go
whar they please 'tliout bein' stopped
In tber road and pestered ter death
’bout hit by er lot ov big, cowardly
men? Ef you air erbllged ter know
tho', l'tn er golug down to Bob Black
more's to hep Ills mother. She air sick
In bed, an’ hepless."
“Did ye mean ter ride Bob's boss
down thnr? 1 'low ef my eyesight
ain't er failin' me, that that air Is his
critter. Whar'a Bob now?" he con
tinued coaxlngly.
“I don't know nuthln' 'bout him. Ef
jrou'uns want ter tlud him, you’d bet
ter look fer him.”
"Whar'd you git Ills critter, then?"
breaks In one Impatiently.
“I stopped him In ther road, right
heali, es I come from down ther path
thar. The critter wna cornin’ lopin'
up. when I run out an’ headed him off.”
After parleying a few moments, tlia
spokesman again turns to her.
“We’uns think thet more'n likely ye
wui tellln’ ther truth Jest now," he
ventures. "Bpechully es ye air a mem
bar uv ther church, and your daddy
wui, too, an' er elder besides. Sissy,”
he Insinuates, “nobody ever heerd tell
uv your tellln’ no He afore. Which way
did ye say ther critter wuz kumtnln'
frum?" She looks him steadily In the
face.
“That way,” she says, indicating with
a wave of her hand the opposite direc
tion. "Ther I-ord ferglve me," she
mentally pleaded, “fer tellln' ur Ils fer
Blm."
“Thet won't do. Hissy. We’uns Jes
hum thet air way ourselves, right after
blm. We’uns had better look fer him
right er-round heah. I roekin. 1 hear
•• tv said for the girl’s benefit, "thet
whar thar’s enny petticoats er-round
Bob Blackmore ain't fur er-way.”
"You better look out fer yerself,” she
scornfully replies. "He’un Is mighty
handy with his weeplus, and with his
fists, too. 1 reckin you know thet, too,
don't you, Jim Wooten? I hav heerd
tell thet you an’ him had er tight ter
wunce, an’ Bob didn’t kum out no little
end uv ther horn, neither."
"We’uns will fix all thet'thar ef we
ever git our han's ou tber ou’ry, good-
fer-nuthin’ scoundrel ergin. lle'uus
ain’t titten ter live noways.”
“He's er sight mo' titten than you
air,” she breaks In hotly. "He's alius
bin er hard-worklu’, sober man, an’
taken keer uv his mammy; sumpln you
never done. 'Sides thet, he’s er gentle
man. an’ alius minded his own busi
ness. Do you’uns call this wah?” she
demands with rising vehemence. “Too
cowardly ter go way frum home an'
tight yerselves, but lay round heah an’
take everything ennybody's got left.
An' soon’s
somebody—that’s
Bob
Blackmore—who's tlghtin' fer his side
heahs his maw’s sick, an’ slips off ter
kum an’ see her, ter houn’ him like er
dog an’ try ter kill him. Hit’s jes cause
lie’s better’n you air.”
The faint winding of a horn down the
road arrests their attention, and hur
riedly mounting their horses they ride
off, one calling back to her:
“We’ve got him, Sissy. Thet's Tom
Winburn. I tole him ter kum up ther
road, so’s to bead him off an’ meet
we’uns heah.”
The pursuers proceeded down the
right-hand road beyond the forks, from
whence the shotB seemed to have come,
where the road makes a sudden dip into
a dry ravine. Down there a man lies
still In death, his cheek pressed heavily
against the delicate ferns that grow
luxuriantly out of the cool shadows.
The trees meeting overhead almost ex
clude the light, but now and then a
recreant bough, straying from its place
through bidding of the gentle morning
breeze, lets in a feeble ray of sunshine
that touches up the dead man's face
with a pallid coloring. The nodding
ferns caress bls pale cheek in vain.
The morning songsters sing their lays
Io unhearing ears. The pines and hem
locks mingling their foliage with the
poplars, and bowing their good morn
ings to the beeches and young hick
ories, sough In vain to arouse or soothe
the sleeper. He will never again take
cognizance of earthly things, nor inhale
the beauty and vitality of his native
mountains—his spirit has gone before
the last tribunal. A round hole In the
center of his forehead shows where
the messenger of death has entered,
bringing Its Inevitable summons. Ills
slouch hat lies where it has fallen a few
feet away, his right hand still clutches
a pistol, his finger within the guard and
grasping the trigger. Ills garb is the
same as they wear who find him.
He had sought unfairly to take hu
man life, and with his own had paid
tho penalty. Coming from farther
down the mountain to meet his com
rades and seeing the fugitive he had
ridden aside into the ravine, intending
to slay him unawares as be passed.
But he had seen the interceptor, and
was prepared, and as the other fired at
him going by he too had fired in return,
and slew him. It was but a moment’s
work to exchange his steed for the
fresher one of the dead man and ride
furiously forward again. The horse
deserted, frightened at the realization
of something wrong and scared at sight
of the dead man. gallops back to be
met and caught by the girl.
But now, heartbroken, overwhelmed
and frightened at sight of the inani
mate body they shortly bring up the
road toward her she flees stricken and
crushed, thinking It to be the other
one. And thus it is for days and long
weary days, until by chance she learns
the truth.
The war’s over. Another bright
morning. A man rides leisurely up the
road; where it forks he catches sight
of a woman’s form sitting on a fallen
tree, where she has evidently stopped
to rest.
“Mawnin', Miss Sissy,” lie says. At
the sound of her mime the girl looks
up quickly, and then ns quickly down
again, a flush surmounting her usually
colorless cheeks.
“Mawnin', Bob." she quietly re
sponds. "We 'lowed up ter our house
es how mayt>e you’uns had forgot us.
How's your maw?" quickly changing
the subject.
"Hit did look bad In my not erktim-
mlu' ter see you all afore now," he re
joins, Ignoring the last question. “But
I had ter kinder straighten up around
home a bit afore I got out much."
"1 tliaut you wuz killed wunce. Bob.”
she ventures by way of further con
versation. Instantly he dismounts,
leaving his horse standing in the road,
and goes up and sits down beside her.
“Why did you'uus think that?” he
asks.
“I will ergoln' down ter your tnaw's
an' stopped your critter In the road up
thar that time, an' then they brought
he’un that wuz killed, an’ an’----- ” she
could go no further at recollection of
her misery.
“An’ did you keer. Sissy?” he asks,
leaning eagerly forward.
"You warn't dead," she protests.
"Well, then uv ther fac' that you
thaut I wuz dead?"
She answers him nothing. A few dry
leaves flutter In the autumn air and
fall at their feet. A wild grape vine
nods Its approval aud swings in the
breeze, and the branches of the trees
overhead rustle with the gambols of a
young fox squirrel. A flame-crested
woodpecker flies to a dead pine and be
gins plugging unmolestedly away. He
puts his arm around her aud draws her
to him.
"Who writ that thar note. then. Sissy,
that wus shoved under ther door that
night ter warn me? You will tell me
that, won't ye? An’ who tuck keer of
my mammy when she wuz sick? Sissy,
honey”— the arm draws tighter—"won't
i you marry me?” She hides her face
RHYMES FOR THE WEEK.
against bis breast.
"You air shore good at axin’ ques- When to Sneeie, Play, Work or Pray
Outlined in Old-Time Verae.
I tions, Bob,” she says, "an’ I love ye.”—
While it is true that superstition la
Louisville Times.
dying out, it Is also true that In many
minds there lingers a little vestige of
INHERITED DISEASES.
faith in bygone traditions. To find
Care May Prevent 1 ran«mission from proof of this one has only to enter some
Parent to Child.
of the large stores and see upon the
The question of heredity, or the trans Jewelry counter a display of rabbits’
mission of certain mental traits or feet handsomely mounted, and appro
physical characteristics from parents priately labeled as fulfilling all the con
to children, is one that has been much ditions supposed to be necessary to in
studied, but of which as yet too little sure good luck to the wearer of the
Is known. Formerly the inheritance of charm.
disease was believed in implicitly, by
In an old book, written in the year
physicians as well as by laymen, and 1630, are found some rhymes upon the
the list of maladies to which children days of the week which have outlived
were supposed to be almost inevitably many a piece of writing more worthy
condemned by the accident of birth of preservation. On reading some of
was a very long one.
them one somehow receives the impres
Among these hereditary diseases sion that every day of the week was
were reckoned consumption and scrof either a Sunday or a holiday, and that
ula, leprosy, gout, rheumatism, goitre, the simple folk had nothing to do but
cancer, insanity, epilepsy aud many to play and rest when not engaged In
other nervous affections. As we learn prayer, an impression not borne out
more about these maladies, however, by the "stubborn facts” of the hard-
one after another of them is removed 'working lives of the masses in “olden
wholly or in part from this category times.” That Sunday was scrupulously
and placed among the acquired dis observed Is evident from the warnings
eases.
of the direful consequences of cutting
Undoubtedly some diseases are really the nails or even sneezing on the Sab
inherited, but their number Is certainly bath.
not large. Many diseases run In fam
ilies, but are not on that account neces You know that Munday is Sundaye’s
brother;
sarily hereditary.
Tuesday is such another:
Consumption, for example, was only Wednesday you must go to church and
recently regarded as one of the most
pray;
surely Inherited diseases, and is still Thursday is half-holiday;
believed by many to be so. But we On Friday it is too late to begin to spin;
now know that it is a germ disease, Ou Saturday is half-holiday again.
which, while not "catching” in the or
dinary sense of the word, Is readily Cut your nails on Monday, cut them for
news;
transmitted from the sick to the well
Cut them on Tuesday, a pair of new
when the invalid is careless in his hab
shoes;
its, especially as regards expectoration. Cut them on Wednesday, cut them for
It is also acquired more readily by
health;
those of delicate constitution than by Cut them on Thursday, cut them for
wealth;
the robust.
Tlie children of consumptive parents Cut them on Friday, you’ll cut them for
woe;
are seldom robust, and so are predis
posed to any of the germ diseases, and Cut them on Saturday, a journey you’ll
go;
living constantly in a house where the
Cut them on Sunday, you’ll cut them for
germs of consumption are necessarily
evil.
abundant, they are very likely to be For all the next week you'll be ruled by
come victims of that disease.
the devil.
This is an important fact. It teaches
Born on Monday,
us that since, as a rule, only the pre
Fair of face:
disposition to the family disease is in
Born on Tuesday,
herited, and not the disease itself, the
Full of God’s grace:
chances of the younger generation’s
Born on Wednesday,
escaping, if proper care is used, are
Merry and glad:
very great.
Born on Thursday, ,
The bringing up of a child in a con
Sour and sad;
sumptive family should be of a special
Born on u Friday,
Godly given;
ly hygienic character. The best of
Born on Saturday,
foods, of fresh air and sunlight, not too
Work for a living;
much study, long hours of sleep in a
Born on a Sunday,
well-ventilated room and, as far as
Never shall want:
possible, avoidance of exposure to the
So there’s the week.
contagion of the family malady—these
And the end on’t.
are the weapons by which the malign
influence of Inherited weakness of con Sneeze on a Monday, you sneeze for dan
stitution may be overcome and many
ger;
precious lives saved.—Youth’s Com Sneeze on a Tuesday, you’ll kiss ■
stranger;
panion.
I Sneeze on a Wednesday, you sneeze for
a letter:
DRY CLIMATE OF THE ARCTIC.
Sneeze on a Thursday, for something
better;
Wound« S'ometiinea Heal ' Rapidly in
Sneeze on a Friday, you’ll sneeze for
It—Meat« Ilo Not Become Putrid.
sorrow:
One of the American consuls In Ger
many has forwarded to the State De Sneeze on a Saturday, your sweetheart
to-morrow;
partment a report made by Dr. Ilowitz, Sneeze on a Sundny, your safety seek,
the physician of the German Fisheries The devil will have you for the whoW
Society, who spent four mouths in the
of the week.
Arctic last year, on some climatic con
■New York Tribune.
ditions of that region. He made some
“Forgettln’ ”
Interesting discoveries concerning the
Tlie night when last I' saw my lad
putrefaction processes and the healing
His eyes were bright and wet.
of wounds. Ills steamer arrived at
He took my two hands in his own.
Bear Island in the beginning of July.
“ 'Tis well,” says he, "we’re met
Fish caught on the voyage aud dried in
Asthore machree! the like o' me
tlie Norwegian fashion showed not a
I bid ye uow forget.”
trace of putridity as long as the air
remained dry and clear. Even the nat
All, sure the same’s a triflin’ thing,
ural fishy smell disappeared. Walrus
’Tis more I'd do for him!
I mind the night I promised weU,
meat caught on the island and left ex
Away on Ballandim—
posed on the rocks kept perfectly fresh
An’ ev< ry little while or so
aud sweet. It tasted, by the way, much
I thiy forgettin’ Jim.
like beefsteak.
Wounds ou the hands, though ex
It shculdn't take that long to do.
posed to the contact of iron chains and
An’ him not very tail:
bloody walrus flesh, did not become in
’Tis quare the way 1'11 hear his voice,
flamed in fair weather, but they did
A boy that's out o' call—
not heal. They remained raw, open
An' whiles I see him stand as plain
wounds. The surface gradually dried,
As e’er a six-foot wall.
but showed no tendency to form a scab.
Och, never fear, my jewel!
But it was very different lu damp,
I’d forget ye now this minute.
cloudy weather.
If 1 only had a notion
Then tlsh, though already almost
O' the way V should begin it;
dry, soon became moldy aud putres
But first and last it isn't known
cent. The walrus meat also soon be
Tlie heap o' throuble in it.
came offensive.
Shoes had to be kept well oiled to
Myself began the night ye went
An' hasn't done it yet;
prevent molding. The slightest wounds
I’m nearly fit to give it up, •
festered at once. In some cases the
For where's the use to fret?—
pain was so intense as to make the
An' the morning's fairly spoilt on me
hardy sailors writhe in agony. But,
Wid mindin’ to forget.
after lancing these wounds healed rap
•-London Spectator.
idly. sometimes In one night.
“Mighty Rich.”
In dry and germ-free air, therefore,
there was neither Inflammation nor a
A writer in the Outlook describes a
tendency to heal, while In moist, germ ride he once took with an old farmer
laden air Intense inflammation and pro In a New England village, during
fuse suppuration were quickly fol which some of the men of the neigh
lowed by complete healing.
borhood came under criticism.
It would seem as If the system made
Speaking of a prominent man in the
no effort to heal wounds except when village. I said: “He is a man of
the presence of bacteria make« them means?”
specially dangerous.
“Well, sir,” the farmer replied, "he
hasn't got much money, but he's
New Industry in Florida.
mighty rich.”
The cultivation of the camphor tree
"He has a great deal of land, then?"
In Florida has been so successful that I asked.
this section promises to be a formida
"No. sir, he hasn't got much land,
ble competitor with the far east, la either, but he is mighty rich.”
China. Japan and Formosa but a smalt
The old farmer, with a pleased rftnile,
portion now remain owing to the waste observed my puzzled look for a mo
ful methods of obtaining the gum from ment. and then explained:
the trees, which In many cases were
"You see. he hasn't got much money,
cut down entirely. In Florida, on the ansi he hasn't got much land, but still
other hand. It has been found that cam he is rich, because he never went to bed
phor could be produced profl tably from owing auy man a cent In all his life.
the leaves and twigs, obtaining a pound He lives as well as he wants to live,
of the gum from seventy seven pounds aud he pays as he goes; he doesn’t owe
of the cuttings. The tree requires no
anything, and he isn't afraid of any
fertilization and is extremely orna
body; he tells every man the truth, and
mental.
does his duty by himself, bls family
and his neighbors; his won! is as good
By Innuendo»
“Chollie la all right but I think his as his bond, and every man. woman
and child In the own looks up to blm
cables have been cut.”
and respects blm. No, sir. he hasn't
"Cables cut?”
“Yes. He haa no intelligence."—In got much land, bnt he’s a mighty rlcb
map. because he's get all he wanu,"
dlanapoUs Journa'.
joints may present Irregular enlarge
ments and stiffening?, while the mus
cles of these limbs become small from
lack of use.
In many cases of acute rheumatism
the severity of the pain varies extreme
ly with the weather; so that such indi
viduals are usually able to foretell, by a
few hours, the occurrence of cold and
moist weather. There is a variety of
rheumatism, so called. In which the
pain is felt chiefly along the leg bones,
the “shins,” and occurs especially at
night.
Treatment—One of the most import
ant features of treatment of chronic
rheumatism is care in wearing flannel
next to the skin throughout the year.
The administration of drugs Is by no
means certain to produce beneficial re
sults. Some cases are materially bene-
fiteed by the regular employment of the
hot air. or hot vapor bath, the Turkish
bath, etc. The fact Is, that the treat
ment of each case of chronic rheuma
tism Is largely an experiment which
can be successfully accomplished af
ter considerable time has been spent in
trials of drugs and remedial measures.
Among the medicines which are most
frequently useful are tlie iodide of
potassium, gufac, and cod liver oil.
The following formula may be given:
Iodide of potassium........... Five drachms
Tincture of guiac..................... Two ounces
Water ...................................... Two ounces
Mix. and take a teaspoonful four
times a day.
Other cases will be benefited by using
colchicum with tlie alkalis. An exam
ple of such mixture is the following:
How members of the Chicago fire de Wine of colchicum root......... One drachm
partment reach a high window when the Bicarbonate of potassium.Three drachms
ladder is too short.
/ Rochelle salts.................... Three drachms
Peppermint water.................. Four ounces
Take a tablespoouful three times a
FROM ACTRESS TO NEWS GIRL.
day.
A HUMAN LADDER.
A Sorrowful Change in the Life of
Palma Schroder,
From the footlights, where a few sen-
sons ago she was a favorite, Palma
Schroder has descended to the ranks
of the New York newsgirls. Once a
queenly beauty, she is now a cripple,
supported by crutches. Miss Schro
der is a California girl, who first ap
peared on the stage In “The Streets of
New York.” Later she took part In
other plays and was ou the high road
to success when, one morning, while
riding her wheel to get some medicine
for her mother, who was then living
with her In New York, she was knock
ed down by a trolley car, dragged the
length of a block and left maimed and
helpless. Her mother, also an Invalid,
proposed suicide, but the younger
woman refused. Instead she got a bun
dle of papers, went on crutches to the
door of the Casino, where she had once
been a favorite, and took her station as
a newsgirl. There she may now be
found, night after night, selling her
papers ami eking out a scanty living for
herself and her mother.
The “lucky” advertiser always hap
pens to possess a lot of common sense.
—Profitable Advertising.
For local business the local newspa
pers are by far the best advertising
mediums.—The Ad Writer.
Advertising is valuable exactly In
proportion to the extent to which the
thing advertised is found to bear out
the claim made for it.—Montreal (C'an.>
Witness.
The force and profit of advertising
consists in constantly keeping before
the people your location wbat you have
to sell, the prices at which you will sell,
aud in religiously keeping every prom
ise.—St. Louis Star.
Newspaper advertising is the very
best “hustler” any firm can employ,
going into thousands of homes anil
reaching people who are approachable
in no other way. It is an indispens
able part of every modern business.—
Saginaw (Mich.) News.
The question is often asked. Why 1»
newspaper advertising the most profit
able? And it Is to be said that most of
the answers have failed In giving the
actual reason. The first reason Is, that
the newspaper advertisements find the
public mind when It is In an explana
tory and receptive condition. When a
person in his own time is reading a
newspaper, he will naturally take in
with the news of the outside world
those facts which are of use in man
agement of his home and the purchase
of his supplies. The second Is, when a
seller puts bls advertisement In a news
paper he at once enters into open com
petition with all others in the same line
of business: his facts and prices are
stated with the knowledge that they
will be noted by these competitors as
well as by the public, while the adver
tiser by circular or sign seems to be
endeavoring to do a quiet, non-com
petitive business.—Paterson (N. J.>
News.
Man and Beast.
Chronic Rheumatism.
This name should, according to all
medical usage, represent a continua
tion of an acute rheumatism In a less
violent and painful form, and such
cases are actually found under the
name chronic rheumatism. Yet this
name, as ordinarily employed, desig
nates several affections, all of which
are characterized by pains in the Joints
or in the muscles, which have a ten
dency to persist indefinitely. There is
a form of chronic rheumatism which
affects the patient like the acute dis
ease. except that the symptoms are less
marked: there may be no fever, the
pain and soreness are less Intense, the
tenderness on pressure is comparatively
slight, and the swelling of the joints
may be scarcely noticeable. As in the
acute variety, various Joints are affect
ed successively. The disease may final
ly become concentrated and remain
fixed in a single joint. In this disease
there is' but little disturbance of the
general health, insufficient. Indeed, to
disturb the patient's avocation. Yet
there are instances in which move
ments of the affected part cause con
siderable pain, and patients may be
even confined to the bed. After long
continuance of the disease the affected
Nothing can be so terrible to an ani
mal as a human being. There are times
when the brute seems to recognize in
stinctively that man belongs to a higher
order of creation, and is stricken with
a feeling akin to awe In hfs presence.
In a small African village, some years
ago, there was a scare about some leop
ards which were said to have killed a
number of goats. Accordingly two
white men, accqtnpanled by several na
tives, set off to hunt them. Presently
they found a place in the long grass
where it was evident that one of the
brutes had recently lain, for the ground
was still warm.
The natives formed a ring round it,
and the hunters got their guns ready.
After a little while the leopard emerged
from the long grass and was fired at
and wounded, but not fatally. With a
great bound, he sprang on one of the
white men, and brought him to the
ground. Holding his victim, he turned
and growled savagely at the others.
The natives gave a wild yell for fear,
and then, like a shot, the leopard
: sprang away. He had not been fright-
I ened by the guns, but the yell terrified
him.
The wounded hunter was ill for a
1 long time, and finally had to go back to
England, as one of his eyes was badly
injured.
The Real "Flowery Kingdom."
Flowers bloom In the Sandwich Isl-
1 ends all the year round: therefore It Is
| believed that that country is more de
serving than Japan of the title, “Flow-
j ery Kingdom."
Ireland has the moat equable cUmata
of any country In Europe.