Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 25, Decatur, Adams County, 7 September 1894 — Page 6

iThe DECATUR, IND. , blaoxbubm, . . - PCTwm. Th® book maker at the races not nly does his best, but he meet always oes his betters. Os all things In the world that are •better late than never," going to )ed certainly ranks first. Unfortunately, a man’s funeral termon comes too late to live up to, lays the Syracuse Courier. If Boston really wants a fresh and never-failing water supply why wouldn’t it be a good idea to tap the Western Union stock? The man who refuses to live in the country because there is "so little going on" there, has inside his own head a place where there is still less going on. Not every woman can dress well with the most reckless expenditure; but a clever woman can dress well with intelligent economy and am artistic taste. , The Chicago -man who offers togive piano lessons for 25 cents will be wise if he has his life insured before betraying his identy in any flat building. The matt who does not complain, makes more friends than the man who always has a grievance- The dead martyr is the only kind that is ever canonized. I As we are bound not to inflict on- j necessary suffering on animals, so are we obliged to avert all that tends to add to the sorrow and trials of our common fruihanlty. ■ r; - 4 i .' ; ' x »

; Lydia EL GaUC is reported to have relinquished all claims to the estate of I obert Kay Hamilton id consideration of the sum of 810, There is something in a name after all, J ACTSKSe MINSIE jgELIGMAN-Ctri* ♦ xvlM'VUUltr Ouuvx • g ■■rr~ —< - " she did not baye a fool W. a client is evidenced by the fact that’ the jury returned a verdict in be? favor. When you make a mistake don’t look back at it long. ake t^ie rea son of the thing into your own mind, and then look forward. Mistakes are lesSonft of Wisdom. They cannot be changed 5 . The future is yet in your power. . , The Mew York contemporary who bias been admonishing girfs never to kt their lovers kiss them under a lamp-post is all right- The 16 vers ought to know better ' than to try and kiss them anywhere except un j der the nose.

In her last poem Ella Wheels? Wilcox declares she has reached the h|gb noon of life. As the soulful Elia ta less than one year this side of the half-century mark it would be interestlngto know how old she.was at the sunrise di'hbr existence. - 7T'. Mail matter dropped in a box, in Paris is delivered in Bertlnwjthin an hour and a half, and sometimes pithin thirty-five minutes, li te'seht by means of pneumatic tubes. The excellent postal service of this country has considerable to learn from the service of Europe. A course of lectures at the Royal Institution which has created so much interest is that by Capt Abney on ••Color Blindness.” Excessive tobacco smoking has long been known to be an important factor in color blindness, and Capt. Abney indorses the truth of this observation, says the Scientific American. The discovery of the process of drying fruit has been a great blessing to fruit growers and consumers, and for the farmer has resulted in many dollars saved which must have been lost in the days when fruit was only sold in its fresh state. When it sells at too little to pay for picking it would be money saved to dry the fruit and sell it in that state. The first thousand dollars generally comes hard and requires close figuring and considerable deprivation, but as a rule the thousands that come long after any are needed are chased more eagerly and greedily than the first If people with capacity for making money do not lean, to judiciously enjoy it as they go along they never will. The chances that an accident insurance company takes when it sells a policy good for twenty-four hours to a casual traveler may be estimated when It is knows that the Intestate Commerce Commission has figured out that one person is killed by railroad accidents in this country for ever 1,600,000 people who ride twen. ty-four miles- Selling accident poll-

cies on these figures looks like a "sure thing" for the accident companies. ____________ Some idea of the rapidity of the motion ofithe earth, which we neither see or feel, may be formed by com- . parison. A rifle ball rarely can be made to move more rapidly than 2,000 feet per second. But the earth’s surface at the equator moves about 51, 500 feet per second, in its motion of dally revolution, while the whole earth motes through space in its revolution about the sun at the rate of over 054)00 feet per second, or nearly fifty times as rapidly as a rifle baH. Science says now that beauty is •not skin deep She can tell you that half the charm of a pretty face—at least the expression—is a matter of little muscles and a complex labyrinth of nerves, and that the curves of thp lips, the glance of the eyes, droop* of their lids, are a matter of the prevalent use of certain small muscles in obedience to a prevalent aspect of the mind. Moreover, that the use of these organs of expression has come down long ancestral lines, and that the mold of the features themselves is a question of heredity. It appears to-be taken for granted by a great many people, says the ♦Outlook, that reformers have a right to exaggerate, and that the only way to attract public attention to evils of various kinds is to throw them into very bold relief. This is what is always said in defence of the exaggerated statements sometimes put forth by zealous and earnest men in behalf of the causes for -which they are pleading. But exaggeration is essentially vicious because it is esI sentially untrue, and, being untrue, it is likely to injure by reaction the dause in the interest of which it is used. , __

The State of Io wa,says , the American Cultivator, has made. an excel- ' lent addition to its game lawß prohibiting that no one sM hunt with flog |or gun oh cultivated or en * closed Helds without T PePmission of their owners. TM 19 18 such a law as every State sM ould C ..J .■ V ' - W ~~ thelr'oWn ’ interest There are som • nropertf rights of fanners that dtoserve to be respected. Neither dogr .Apr gun pays any appreciable tax to' the State, twt the’land is taxed regularly so long as the assessors maket their rounda If farmers dreexpected ! to pay taxes they should httye their crops and land exempt ffpm ih«UF- ‘ slons by sporting men of all classes, , who are not generally very careful about destroying property. The reason the .Sicilian farmers live in villages instead of on the farms they till is found in a curious survival of a mediaeval law. Under that law tlllprs are not allowed to live upon the lands they farmed, but

were huddjed together in villages, possibly so they could thereby be more easily watched and kept from insurrection. Sicilian farmers have mai ntained'the ancient system from choice apparently. Medieval ■ cus. toms are found in Sicily more frequently than in any other part of Europe. The octroi itself would not have been submitted to so, long if the Sicilian peasants had been aedhtefllP geni as the rural population' elsewhere. By the medieval custom ■ finder which the octroi was ' levied cities imposed a tax oh all fobd pro 1 - brought into their gates.' This tax not to the national government, to defraying the.expenses

of the city poses a double' tai oh" the wretched peasant. He pays taxqs land outside the gity. Tfren when he brings food for tfe owif 7 tfse tc> his home <n the vrllage ilp is met aDthe city line by the octroi collector, who levies on every bushel of potatoes the farmer consumes in his own family, Worst of all, the collectors are bribed by the rich, it is said, to let them off comparatively free, and pluck the ■ poor who cannot help themselves. On < the whole, it Is no wonder the Sicilians revolted. A Snake Mountain. There Is a horseshoe-shaped moun. tain in Manitoba which literally swarms with snakes twice every year. In the early autumn those slippery customers gather there from all dl- ■ rections, mostly from the prairie ; countrj of the south. In one side of > the mountain there is a circular hole i about fifteen feet deep, and aS smooth as if It had been fashioned with a 5 well anger, where tens of thousands r of reptiles spend the cold winter - months together. Persons who have j tried to explore this immense snake den during the summer, when the regular tenants are absent, say that dozens of subterranean passages lead out under the mountain in all direc--8 tions from the bottom of the well. 0 An authority estimates that he has 1 seen 300,000 snakes of all sizes knotr e ted together and piled up in a seml--1 torpid state in this "Well of Ser- [. pents,” as it is called in the Northr west. i- Qne hand opened in charity, may I- be >orth 100 folded in prayer. «

•TWAS FAR AWAY. ’Twas far away where skies are fair And sweet with eong and light; When I had but my scythe, my dear. And you your needles bright. So far away I and yet, to-day, For all the distance drear. My heart keeps chime with that sweet time And dreams the old dreams there. There, where love learned its sweetest words And built its brightest bowers; Where sang the rarest mocking birds And bloomed the fairest flowers I And fields were golden-rich, and clear The streams flowed in the light— When I had but my scythe, my dear, And you your needles bright I How soft and sweet across the wheat ’ Your dear voice seemed to roam, When stars of love peeped pale above And I went dreaming home! Life had no sweeter joy than this— To rest a little while There, where you met me with a kiss And blessed me with a smile I So far that sweet time seems to-day, Here ’neath these darkened skies' And yet, across the weary way You light me with your eyes I And I would give earth's gold to share Once more that day, that night. When I had but my scythe, my dear, And you your needles bright! —[Frank L. Stanton. H DfI6BESTBH PHTTEBH.

Phoebe Jane Breck hung the little rug over the arm of the old haircloth rocking-chair, and Mrs. Ponsonby Ten Broeck gazed at it critically. * “It’s a real Daghestan pattern," said the great lady, who was a summer visitor at Eakt Palestrina; and Phoebe Jane colored high with pride and pleasure. Being only fifteen years old, and not the capable one of the family, it was a great satisfaction to have her handiwork admired by a lady from New York. "You really have a knack at rugmaking," said Phoebe Jane’s older sister Eunice, when the visitor’s carriage had gone. It was at that very moment, while Phoebe Jane was washing the best thin glass tumbler in which the lady had drank her cream, that a great idea came to her. „ jIqLJ "'hjtferrer •sinkiaed? • ■ according to that lady’s injunctions, as she was coming out with new false teeth, and was anxious not to look too "flighty." When Eunice had * omething on her mind was not the til me to talk to her. Besides, it was reb ch a great idea that it almost took yjn abe Jane’s breath away. If she could have told her Cousin Luelk % that would have been a com fort. . Luella went to the Oakmount Kftmale Seminary, and knew almost ng; but Luella and she were forbidden to speak to each other, because her father and Luella’s mother, Aunt Cynthia, had quarrelled long ago. Aunt Cynthia’s boys, Jerome and Albion, aud Phoebe Jane’s brother, Llewellyn, had always scowled at each other, but Phoebe Jane and Luella had wanted to be friends ever Since the day when Luella’s buff kitten got lost in Wingate’s woods, and Phoebe Jane- climbed a tall tree, in the top of which it was mewing piteously, and restored it to its mistress's arms-

That had happened! Bong- ago, when they were little gkl 9; hut ever? since they had shown t.beinselves congenial spirits. So Phoebe Jane longed to ask Luella’s advice about her bright idea. But as that could not be, she allowed it to rest awhile | in : her eager brain, ana then' pro*ceeded to develop it. Phoebe Jane stole softly frtto “the shepherdess room’’ —they Called it so Because the old-fashioned paper on the walls was covered with shepherdesses, with their crooks and their flocks of sheep. It was the best room, the parlor; but although Phoebe Jane's father and mother lived in that hpuse ever since they were married, the room had never been furnished. They had always been planning to furnish it; that had been one of Phoebe Jane’s mother’s hopes as long as she lived, and now Eunice, when‘(/vcr she was able to save a little mbnoy, said that sometime, perhaps-, the/ Could furnish the parlor. Eunice had made a beautiful lounge f<W'ifr.o<kt of an old packingcase apd Mrs. Tisbury, when she moved to Or&hd,' had left them her jase-burner stove' to use until she wanted it. But Efattibe said the great difficulty was the cotfpet —it was such a large room. Phoebe Jane stood irr iffie middle of the room and surveyed? it with a measuring eye. “Llewellyn will paint the edges for me,” she meditated, “and it is- very stylish to leave half a yard all ’round.” . i “Then we could have the choir re- . hearsals here,” said Phoebe Jane ( aloud to herself. . i The choir rehearsals were held in t the church before the service on Sunday mornings, which was a very inconvenient time for those singers who lived away up beyond Pigeon Hill down at Wood End. These rehearsals seemed a little like profan- i ing the Sabbath, too, to some of the , singers; and, anyway, it pleasant and social, as it would be to have them in the evening. Rut it cost too much to heat or even to light the church for evening rehearsals; it was a large, old-fashioned church, ftn4 Palestrina was poor*

The Brocks had a large parlor organ ; it almost filled the little sitting room. Mary Ellen, the sister who died, had bought It with her schoolteaching money. No one else in Palestrina had such an organ, and Eunice had often said, with a long sigh, “ How delightful it would be to have the choir rehearsals here, it we only had the parllor furnished! " Phoebe Jane decided that if she had a "knack" It was high time she used it to accomplish something worth the while, especially as she had an uncomfortable sense of not being good for much. Eunice was a famous housekeeper, and could trim bonnets so well that people preferred her work to that of the village milliner. She was so useful in sickness that every one sent for her; and she could play beautifully on the organ, too, although she had never taken any lessons. Even Llewellyn, who was thirteen years old, and only a boy, could be trusted to get dinner better than Phoebe Jane; he could draw delightful music out of the old fiddle that they had found in Grandpa Pulsifer’s garret, and could puzzle the schoolmaster himself when it came to mathematics. Phoebe Jane couldn’t play on anything, except a comb, and she was obliged to go to the barn to indulge in that musical performance because it mode Eunice nervous; she said she could bear it if Phoebe Jane could keep a tune. And Phoebe Jane was very apt to be at the foot of the class at school. Never mind I Mrs. Ponsonby Ten Broeck might flatter, but Eunice certainly never did, and Eunice had -said that she. Phoebe Jane, had a Phoebe Jane slipped away that afternoon without giving any account of herself. She called first on old Mrs. Prouty, who had been the Palestrina (Iressmaker'for fifty years. Old Mrs. Prouty had the reputation of being "snug;” she had a great store of “pieces" in her attic, and she had never bcCn known to give any away, even for a crazy-quilt. But she and Phoebe Jane were very intimate. Phoebe Jane had brought up Mrs. Prouty’s tender brood of turkeys, hatched during a thundershower; had always stood up for Ginger, the old lady’s little rat-ter-rier, that was voted a nuisance by the neighbors, and had twice rescued him from cruel boys. Moreover, old Mrs. Prouty’s niece Lorinda sang in “tjie seats,” and longed for evening rAnroytfmow war'im u wmuum- - ofSainbows, and old Mrs. Prouty had so good a memory that she knew to whose dress almost every piece had belonged. Phcebe Jane made two or three other calls, and before she went home the success of her plan seemed assured. t Eunice said, 1 ‘I don’t see how you re. going to make a rug that’s large enough," and “I hope you won’t, get tired of it before its half-done as you did of the bed-spread you , begun to crochet.” But she , helped; Eunice would always help, though she was practical and saw all the difficulties at once. Llewellyn got the Corey boys to help him make a frame that was large enough, and he helped to make the rest too. By dint e* hard work it was finished and laid Upon the parlor floor the first of December. As Phcebe Jane said, if you don’t believe it w<as a siege, you’d better try one! A real Daghestan pattern,, nine by twelve feet. Then? ! when the rug was down, and the parlor furnished, all the pleasure of the choir rehearsals , was spoiled by a church quarrel. It arose as church quarrels and others often do, from what seemed a very small thing. ; Old Mrs. Tackaberry, Aunt Cinthia’s mother, had the old-fashioned New England habit of suspending all labor on Saturday evening, and beginning 1 it again on Sunday evening; and being a very obstinate woman, she would knit in the Sunday evening prayer meeting. No matter how loud the minister and the members prayed and exhorted, no matter how loud the congregation sang, old Mrs, Tackaberry’s knittingneedle seemed to dick above everything. Some people were shocked and some had their nerves affected, while others declared that ‘‘a mother in Israel," like old Mrs. Tackaberry, should be allowed to indulge in such a luirmless eccentricity. At this time the church was divided into two parties, one insisting old Mrs. Tackaberry should cease to knit or leave, and the other declaring that if she left it would leave with her. So the Church was rent asunder. The supporters of old Mrs* Tackaberry hired the town-hall for their services, and a young divinity student for their minister. The funds that had been barely enough for one church were sadly insufficient for two, and there was enmity between old friends and neighbors. So Phcebe Jane said with a tearful sense of the futility of all human hopes, that there was "no comfort in half a choir rehearsal." i It was old Mrs. Tackaberry who had made the trouble between Aunt Cynthia, and her brother-in-law, 1 years before, so it was not very likely that the Brecks would espouse her cause, though Deacon Breck who was a mild and gentle man, and never had quarrelled with anybody but Aunt Cynthia in his life—Deacon Breck . said he “wished folks could have put I up with the knitting, for he believed it was conducive to godliness to let I some folks do as they were a mind ; to.” As if Phoebe Jane had not had disappointment enough, the worst storm of th* season came on that Saturday ■

night when the choir had been invited to hold its first rehearsal in the newly-furnished parlor. It was a rain, following a heavy fall of snow. The roads were almost impassable, and most of the singers lived a long distance from the village. - The town-hall was opposite the Brecks’ house, and Phcebe Jane looking out of the window, saw that the choir of the new society was assembling in spite of the storm. It was to be a great occasion with the new society to-morrow; Jerome, Aunt Cynthia’s oldest son, who was a student in a theological seminary, was going to preach. But a great volume of smoke was pouring out of the doors and windows of the hall, and Llewellyn, who had been over to investigate, announced that "that old cldmney was smoking again, and they would have to give up their rehearsal." Then Llewellyn, who was a strong partisan, and didn’t like Aunt Cynthia’s Jerome, turned a somersault of excitement and delight. "It is too bad I” cried Phoebe Jane, whose soul wfis sympathetic. “Father—Eunice—don’t you think we might ask them to come in here?” Father Breck hesitated, rubbing his hands together nervouslv. He said he was afraid people would think it was‘queer, and if any of their choir should come it would be awkward. Then Eunice suddenly came to the front, as Eunice had away of doing quite unexpectedly. "I think Phoebe Jane has a right ■to use the parlor as she likes, she ■worked so hard for the rug,” said Eunice. “Well, well, do as you like, Phoebe Jane. Maybe it’s a providential leading,” said Father Breck. Phoebe Jane threw her waterproof over her head and ran out.- There were Cynthia and Jerome, and with them a professor from Jerome’s seminary. Phoebe Jane had a lump in her throat when she tried to speak to them, but behind, oh joy I there was 'Luella. "If you will come and rehearse in our parlor — you know about my .rug!” said Phoebe Jane; and then ■she drew her waterproof over her head again and ran back. There was a consultation, evidently. Phoebe Jane heard old Mrs. Tackaberry’s voice, and was afraid they would’nt eome. But they did I It seemed almost the whole of the new society came pouring into the parlor, and by that | time Alma Pickering, and Jo Flint, ward if old Mrs. Tackaberry had not been immediately struck by the new rug, and begun to ask questions about it with a freedom that made every one laugh. Soon they were all talking about it. Phoebe Jane remembered, as she had meant to, where she had put almost all the "pieces” of which Mrs. Prouty had tokd her the history. Old Mrs. Tackaberry cried about the pink delaine that was her little granddaughter, Abby Ellen’s, who died, and about the brown tibet that was her daughter Amanda’s wedding dress when she married a missionary and wetnt to China, and died there. Then they all laughed at an arabesque in one corner which was Jerome’s yelllow flannel dress—Phoebe Jane had been a little afraid to tell of that, Jerome was so imposing in a white necktie. Aunt Cynthia would not believe that she had let the dressmaker make that dress until she remembered that it was the time when she scalded her hand. People kept coming in. Phcebe Jane had an inspiration, and made LleweMyn go and invite them. It became a good old-fashioned neighborhood party— “just like a quilting,” old Mrs. Tackaberry said. Everybody found some of their "pieces" or their relatives' "pieces” in the rug, and smiles and tears and innumerable stories grew out of this. The new-comers found the two factions apparently so reconciled that they were surprised out of any animosity that they might have felt; and when they came to rehearse their music it happened, oddly enough, that both parties had chosen the same hymn, and they all sang together. When they had finished rehearsing, someone — Phoebe Jane never was quite sure whether it was Jerome or the professor —started ‘ ‘Blessed be the tie that binds.” How they did sing it 1 Old Mrs. Tackaberry’s thin,cracked treble sang out in defiance of time and tune, and when the hymn ended tears were rolling down her seamy checks. ‘ ‘l’m going back to the church I she said, brokenly. “I’ve sp’ilt my meet’n’s and other folk s ..long enough. And—and —I’m going to do what I’m a mind to, to home, when it comes sun-down on the Sabbath day, but I ain’t goin’ to knit a mite in meetiq’ again—not a mite! ” There was a great hand-shaking; Aunt Cynthia and Father Breck actually shook hands, and out in the entry old Mrs. Tackaberry kissed Phoebe Jane. In spite of the bad roads, there w r as a great congregation in the East Palestrina church the next day. It was the professor who preached. He chose for his text, "Blessed are the peacemakers,” and every one looked at Phoebe Jane until she grew red to the tips of her ears. She and Luella walked homeward together—openly, arm in arm; and it seemed like walking in Paradise, although one went over shoe in mud. [Youth’s Companion. .... . ... -I ' _ Capetown, in South Africa, Is’ffne of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. * -*■ 4 • •

COREA AND UNCLE SAM. Trouble Which Ended Ina Naval Engagement./ Corea, about which the two nations are now nt war, once had a slight difficulty with a portion of the navy of tho United States. It resulted in I tho destruction of five Oorean forts, the capture of 481 pieces of artillery 1 and fifty flags, and the loss of about 850 Corean soldiers. The Americans lost throe men, one of whom was Lieutenant Hugh W. McKee, of Kentucky. Three of the Corean guns’are now at the Naval Academy, with a large number of the flags. The guns are of curious pattern, and, while the dates of their manufacture are said to be 1818, 1665 and 1680, they are breech-loaders. The arrangement for loading at the brech is, however, of the crudest kind, and such as would seem to make them more dangerous to those using them than to those against whom they were used. I The flags are of curious design, | and ornamented with all sorts of figures, reptiles and birds. Some of . the flagstaffs to which they are at-1 tached are ornamented with strangelooklng tufts of feathers, said to be' the insignia of royalty, but which; resemble in a marked degree the plebian feather duster of modern date.. The largest of the flags and the one which was floating t over the strongest fort captured by the American marines and sailors, Is twelve feet square, of yellow cotton cloth r . on which are singularly-shaped blue characters. A tag shows that it was captured by Captain of Marines McLane Tilton, Corporal Brqwn, of the ship Colorado, and Private Hugh Purvis, of the Alaska. Captain Tilton is now Colonel Tilton, and Is at the Naval Academy in command of the marines there. Hugh Purvis is I the academy’s armorer. The fight took place on June 11,: 1871, twenty-three years ago, and was the first and last engagement United States forces had with Coreaus. It is also said to have been the first time a Western force spent night on the soil of Corea. The engagement grew out of an attempt of ox-Governor,Low, of California, then American Minister to China, to arrange, if possible, a convention with Corea for the protection! of sailors and others shipwrecked o J the shores of that country, He had! the consent of China, to whicli f Corea was then, as now, tributary! and with Rear-Admiral John Rod| Monocacy and Palos, he ascended the Salee river, ip Corea, to the Boisee anchorage. The ascent of the river had been with the implied consent of the local authorities. A surveying party in two steam launches passed further up the river until it reached a point above the Corean forts, when it was: fired upon, and two Americans were injured. The party got back to the; ship in safety, and an explanation; was at once demanded. Ten days, passed, but no explanation was forthcoming.! attack Jwas ordered. —[Baltimore Sun. , Railroad Laborers Strangely Hurt. I While Section Foreman Michael Quinlan and a force of men were en- I gaged in removing a rail from the ■ track of the Louisville & Nashville | Railroad, one and a half miles north of this city, an unusual accident ob-1 curred, which resulted very seriously to Walter Walters and James Sneed, both colored. As each spike was removed the rail took the form of a bow, caused by the intense heat expanding it. After the removal of the spikes the clamps which connect each end with adjoining rails were unfastened. A crowbar was then placed under one end of the rail to pry it loose from its position. As soon as weight was applied to the crowbar the rail unexpectedly jumped out to middle of the track and struck the men and Foreman Quinlan on the legs with such force as to fell them to the ground. Foreman Quinlan’e injuries consisted of a badly mashed foot. Walter Walters and James Sneed were conveyed to the city hospital. The former received a compound fracture of the right ankle, and will be confined several months. Sneed was so badly hurt that his right leg below the knee joint and part of his left leg had to be amputated. The accident caused a great deal of comment among railroad men, it being the first of its kind ever known to have happened. 1 —[Nashville American. Sacrifices and Crops. We learn from Festus that the Ro-ra mans sacrificed red-haired puppies inH snring in the belief that the cropsM would thus grow ripe and ruddy, andwl there can be little doubt that these I puppies, like the lamb sacrifice at I Holne and "King’s Teignton, were a I substitute for an original human I victim. Professor Ramsay, the great | suthority on Phrygian customs, be- I lieves that Attis was at first repre- I sented by a human victim, who I “was probably slain each year by a 1 cruel death, just as the god himself I lied," and Mr. Frazer has shown that I A.ttis was essentially a god of vegeta- I bion; that one of his epithets was I ‘very fruitful,” that he was addressed I is "the reaped yellow ear of corn,” ■ ind that the story of his sufferings, ■ jeath and resurrection was interpre- ■ ted as the ripe grain wounded by the ■ reaper, buried in the granary and ■ joining to life again when sown in I the ground. Adonis, again, is one of H these gods of vegetation originally ■ represented, no doubt, by a human M victim. —[Fortnightly Review. I Austrian police are required to un« ■ derstand telegraphy. a