Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1893 — Page 4

CONTENT. Wl FRED WARNER SHIRLEY. the German Emperor and I Within the sel'-same year were bom, Beneath the self-same sky, Upon the self-same morn; k Kaiser he, of high estate, And I the usual chance of fate. His father was a Prince, and mine— Why, just a farmer—that is all. Stars still are stars, a though some shine And some roll hid in midnight’s pall; Bat argue, cavil al. you can, My sire was jnst as good a man. Ihe German Emperor and I Eat, drink and sleep the self-same way; For bread is bread, and pie is pie, And Kings can cat but thrice a day, And sleep will only come to those Whose mouths and stoinUchs are not foes. t rise at six and go to work, And he at five, and does the same. We both have cares we cannot shirk; Mine are for lovod ones; his for fame. He may live best. I cannot tell; Fm sure I wish the Kaiser well. I have a wife, and so has he; And yet, if pictures do not err, As far as human sight c in soa Mine is by long odds twice as fair. Say, would I trade those eyes, dark brown? Not for an Empr .ss and her crown. And so the Emperor and I On this one point could ne’er agree; Moreover, he will never try, Hi* frau suits him and mine snits mo. And though his sous some day may rule, Bine s'and At iu public school. Bo let the Kaiser have his sway, Bid kings and nations tumble down, I have my freedom and m> say, And fear no ruler and his ci\iwn; For I, unknown to fame c r w ar, Live where each man is Emperor.

LOVE AND WAR.

BY WILLIAM WESTFALL.

A summer night at Geneva, and a nautical fete on Geneva’s historical lake. The narrow stretch of water between the two sides of the city thronged with boats, great and small, all aglow with Chinese lanterns: rockets shooting skywards in rapid succession, their course marked by trails of lierv rain; at intervals the boom of cannon and the shouts of excited spectators. '• “ Good ! Very well, done, and how beautiful!” exclaimed Baron von liohenstein, who, together with Dr. Burt and myself, were watching the spectacle trorn one of the balconies of the Hotel ae ia Paix. “Yes, it is very fine. The fireworks are splendid. How beautifully the lights are reflected in the water. And then the ‘cannon thunder.’ You have seen war, Herr Baron; does it not rather remind you of a battle?” “A very small one. A single battery of light artillery would make more noise. Yes, I have seen war—seen it on a large scale—and though we Germans are supposed to be fond of fighting, I want to see no more of it. A battle-field strewn with thousands of corpses is a fearful sight, and when among the slain there are dear comrades and, it may be, kinsmen, and one thinks of the sorrowing hearts at home, it is hard to rejoice even over the greatest victory. Yet I must not speak ill of war, for to war I owe the happiness of my life.” “The happiness of your life? How was that, Herr Baron?” “Ach, Gott, Meinherr! Thereby hangs a tale. 1 ’ “So much the better. I like tales, above all when they relate to love and war, and if I am not indiscreet ”

“You go too fast. How know you that my tale relates to love and war?” ’‘You spoke of owing to war the happiness of your life” “So! you think, then, that one cannot have a life of happiness without love? You are right. But I am not good at tale-telling. I daresay, though, that my dear brother-in-law here, Dr. Bart, who is a born narrator, and knows the story almost better than I know it myself, will oblige you. Tell him all about it, Victor. The fete is nearly over, and, while you discourse on war, our friend here and , myself will smoke the calumet of peace.” “A. very convenient arrangement,” said the Doctor, smiling. “I don’t smoke, so you are willing that I should have all the talk to myself. Convenient, yet •carcelv fair; and Hermann does himself scant justice. He can talk almost as well as he can fight.” “Ach! That .s paying my power to fight a very poor compliment, Victor.” “On the contrary, it is paying your power of talk a high one. However, I wilj tell my part of the story—that in which. I played the principal part, on condition that you do the rest.” “Good! It’s a bargain,” returned von Hohcnstcin. “By the time you have finished your tale I shall have finished my pipe. Then I will begin; for smoke, though a good listener, is a bad talker. Go on.” Whereupon Dr. Bart, turning to me, began as follows:

“In the year 1870 I was a young surgeon living here in my native city, very eager to work, yet with very little work' to do. So when the war broke out I offered my services, first to the Germans, then to the French, and failing to find employment from either, I enrolled myself as a volunteer in the International Ambulance Corps, which took the field under the protection of the Red Cross of the Geneva Convention. In that capacity I made the campaign of Sedan with the army of Marshal MacMahon. “On August 23, 1870. we found ourselves at Vouziers, a small town of three thousand inhabitants, between Mezieres and Verdun, in that same forest of Argonne which, in the previous century, was made classic by the exploits of Du mouriez. We had marched from Rheims and Chalons with MacMahon’s army, and were attached to the Seventh Corps d’Armee, then commanded by General Douay.

“Our first care was to establish a field hospital, which was soon filled with wounded soldiers, for though no general engagement had recently taken place there were continual affairs of outposts. “Meanwhile the army was in a state of dire confusion, marching and counter marching without apparent object, for the Marshal hesitated; he could not make up his mind whether to follow the dictates or prudence and fall back on Paris, threatened by the third German Army, under the command of the Crown Princes of Prussia and Saxony, or, yielding to the entreaties of the Government march to the rescue of Bazaine, who was at bay under the walls of Metz. “While MacMahon was halting between two opinions, the Germans were pushing forward w ith characteristic energy. On the 26th their cavalry patrols

exchanged pistol shots with the scouts of the Seventh Corps, which formed the the right wing of the Marshal's afmy and would fc* the first to receive the enemy’s onset. * “A battle seemed imminent. General Douay made his dispositions, fortified the heights, issued his orders, and concentrated his command. But on the morning of the 27th came an order fiom the headquarter staff to fall back iu the direction of Mezieres and Paris. The movement had, however, bardlv begun when still other orders were issued. The Seventh Corps was to march on Buzancv. This meant that the influence of Paris had prevailed, and Mac Mahon was about to hazard everything in a desperate attempt to ‘join hands with Bazaine,’ au attempt which resulted in the fall of the empire and the ruin of France. “Lite in the afternoon the Seventh Corps passed through Vouzicrs for the third or fourth time. The men went anyhow, singing songs, falling out when it pleased them, cursing aud shouting, marching to death with despair in their hearts and a laugh on their lips.

“In one of the officers of an infantry regiment I recognized an old friend from the neighborhood of Ferney. The recognition was mutual, and he asked me to bear him company for a mile or two. We found so much to talk about that the shades of evening were falling before 1 remembered that I had to return to Vouzicrs. But going back was hardly less difficult than it would be to swim against the currents of the Rhone, as it rushes under the arches of the Pont du Mont Blanc. The road was so crowded with troops, horses, guns and carriages that progress was impossible. For every step I made forward I was forced two steps backward. In the end I took to the fields, but only to lose my way iu the darkness, and despairing of finding it before daylight, I‘turned into a cattle shed, folded myself in my cloak and fell fast asleep. “I awoke with the first glimmerings of dawn and, hastily rising, made for the nearest road, with the intention of returning tc Vouzicrs, although 1 had only the vaguest idea as to the direction iu which it lay. While I was hesitating which way to take, a sound like the trampling of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of accoutrements fell on my ear. ‘Douay's rear guard,’ I thought, ‘they will tell me the way.’ But the next moment I heard voices, and from the shadow of a wood emerged a squadron of Uhlans. They were chanting a hymn, the words of which brought vividly to my mind the Roman gladiators’ last greeting to the Emperor before they joined iu mortal combat, Ave! Ctesar! morituri te salutant (Hail, Cicsar! the dying salute thee). “The refrain of the hymn, as well as I can remember, ran thus: “ ‘Oh, sun so red! oh sun so red! Light me to a warrior's bed. Yestreen moupted, lance iu rest, To-day a bullet through the breast, Morrow in the cold, cold ground, For God and Fatherland!’

“I waited until the party came up. “ ‘Who are you, and what are you doing here!’ asked au under officer, riding forward. “I told him. “‘I don’t believe a word you have said,’ answered the man sternly. ‘We have just come from Vouziers, and I can assure you there was not a Red Cross ambulance in the place. You are a spy.’ “Against this imputation I warmly protested, pointed to my uniform, and produced my case of instruments. “‘A uniform is nothing. Anybody can have a case of instruments. Where’s your pass;’ “Unfortunately I had left it at my headquarters, and the only proofs of my identity aud good faith which I could show were my card case and a few letters from friends at Geneva.

“ ’Letters are nothing. Anybody may have letters. It is a clear case. You are a spy, disguised as an officer of the International Ambulauce.’ t “Just then a lieutenant came up and demanded an explanation. “The under officer explained. “ ‘As you say, a dear case, 1 replied the lieutenant. ‘Let the fellow be shot.’ “Against this summary justice I protested with all the energy of a man who pleads for his life. “ ‘You may save your breath,’ said the lieutenant. ‘You are found here under suspicious circumstances, and without a pass. As likely as not you are a franc tireur in disguise. You speak German with a French accent. Shoot him, sergeant.’ “And shot I should have been to a dead certainty if another officer of higher rank had not arrived in the very nick of time. He also demanded an explanti'ion, which was of course promptly given. Then he questioned me closely, asking, among otherthings, where I had received my medical education. “ ‘At the Medical School of Geneva and the University of Warsburg.’ “ ‘Then you know Professor Goering?” “I did know Professor Goering, and mentioned several facts which led iny questioner to believe that the account I gave of myself was probably true, but be said that until I could furnish proofs of my identity mid good faith it would be his duty to detain me as a prisoner on parole, which,*l need hardly observe, I gave with great alacrity. “The officer who saved my life Was Baron Hermann von Ilohenstein.

“Three days afterwards was fought the qattle of Sedan, which gave the coup de grace to France and established the unity of Germany. On the morrow of the fight, thanks to my new found friend, I was permitted to help the German surgeons in their arduous work, and my ability in this regard being accepted as proof of my good faith, I was set at liberty. Moreover, the chief of the medical staff offered me a position ns supernumerary staff surgeon, an offer which I gladly accepted, and accompanied Baron von Hoheustein to Paris, there to take part in the siege. “And now, Hermann, I think I may leave you to tell the sequel." “I will try,” said the Baron, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “I will try, and all the more willingly as it can be told quickly. I like not much speaking. “But I must first of all tell you that Victor is too modest. lie has omitted a material part of his story. He obtained his liberty and his appointment less because of what he did after the .battle than of what he did during the battle. He, a prisoner on parole and accused of being a spy, risked his life to save that of his captors. He dressed the wounds of my dear old friend. General von Elsenbaum under fire, there being no other surgeon at liberty, and helped to carry him out of action. For that brave deed he received the personal thanks of the king and von Moltke. He showed more courage that day than many a fighting officer who won the Iron Cross. “Well, as he has told you, we went together to Paris, lived in the same quarters, and became fast friends, and shall remain friends as long as both do live. It was a hard winter, and we had a rough

time. In the last days of the siege I got desperately wounded in a cavalry combat near St. Cloud—my head was laid open by a sabft stroke at the very moment a bullet went through my body. “The doetbrs said that I must die, that nothing could save me. One alone refused to regard my case as hopeless, and to him I am indebted for my life. His name is Victor Bart. “I did not know it then, for I lay many days unconscious, but I knew afterward that lie treated me with consummate skill, and watched over me day and night. So you see it cost him much more trouble to save my life than it cost me to save his. And then, when I was getting better, another came and helped me to get well. A nurse, she was, oh! such a sweet nurse—the sweetest you ever did see. She had soft, dark eyes, a low, sweet voice, and a face so lovely that words are too weak to describe it. At first, being still weak, I really thought, she was a visitant from heaven; and one day I told Victor that an augel had be -n smoothing my pillow and giving me to drink. “Victor laughed heartily. “That is my sister Lucie,” he said, “A false report reached Geneva that I had been hurt, and she came to nurse me, but as I did not need a nurse, I set her to nurse you.” “I felt glad she was not an angel from heaven, for I had already fallen in love with her, and one fine May morning, when I could move about a little, as we were walking under the chestnut trees, I told her what was in my mind. I began by saying that I did not know which to be the more thankful for—the wound on my head or the bullet through mybody. “Thankful for hurts that nearly killed you, Baron!” she exclaimed. “S'ou are surely joking or” “‘lam neither joking nor delirious, Mademoiselle Bart. I was never more serious in my life. If I had not been wounded, you would not have been my Durse, and I should have missed the happiest time I have ever known. Your good brother has saved my life. Will you share it with me, Lucie? For I love you so dearly that I would rather lose it than live unloved by the angel of undreams.’

“I cannot, tell you how Lucie answered, or whether she answered at all in words; but I read her i nswer in her eyes, and we were both very happy. “And then I told Victor, aud he was very glad, and he proposed—the war being over and myself convalescent—that I should travel home by way of Geneva and make the acquaintance of his people. “This offer I gladly accepted, and wrote to tell my people, who lived at Nuremberg, of all that had come to pass; and my mother and my sister, Natalie, met us at Geneva, and we stayed there several weeks. “Natalie was a beautiful blonde, with blue eyes and rosy cheeks, and it was almost a matter of course that Victor and she should fall iu love with each other; and the day on which Lucie and I learned that her brother and my sister were betrothed was the second happiest of our lives. We were all married at the same time; and every other year Victor and Natalie visit us at Nuremberg, aud every other year we visit them at Geneva. “That is the end of the story, and when I have smoked one more pipe we will join the ladies in the saloon, and I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to Madame Victor Bart and the Baroness von llohenstein. Afterward we will go to the Jardin Anglais and listen to the music. I will also introduce you to my sister, Helenchen, so there will be a lady for each of us,”

Famous Pearls.

The most curious among famous pearls is that which, three centuries ago; the French traveller, Tavernier, sold to the Shah of Persia for $G70,000. It is still in the possession of the sovereign as Persia. Another Eastern potentate owns a pearl of 124 carats, which is quite transparent. It is to be had for the sum of |200,C00. Princess Youssoupoff has an Oriental pearl which is unique for the beauty of its color. lu 1020 this pearl was sold by Gcorgibus, of Calais, to Philip IV. of Spain at the price of 80,000 ducats. To-day it is valued at $225,000. Pope Leo XIII. owns a pearl left to him by his predecessor on the throne of St. Peter, which is worth SIOO,OOO, and the chain of thirty-two pearls, owned by the Empress Frederick, is estimated at $175,000. One million dollars is the price of the five chains of pearls forming the collier of the Baroness Gustave de Rothschild, and that of the Baroness Adolphe Rothschild is almost as valuable. Both these ladies are enthusiastic collectors of pearls, and their jewelers have instructions to buy for them any pearl of unusual size and beauty which they may happen to come across. The sister of Mme. Thiers, Mile. Doshe, is also the owner of a very valuable string of pearls, which she has collected during the last thirty years. Of so-called black pearls the Empress of Australia possesses the most valuable collection.

They Were First.

The man who is first in a line is always more prominent than any of the others simply because he is first, and the achievements of the first man in any kind of literary or artistic work are always valued far above their real worth. A hundred better speeches than any ever made by Demosthenes have been delivered in the halls of our own Congress; a hundred better orations than any credited to Cicero have come from the lips of leading American speakers. Hundreds of paintings have been exhibited in the last half century which surpassed anything that Raphael could do; a dozen long poems equal or surpass those of Homer. But Demosthenes and Cicero, Raphael and Homer, were first in point of time, and so absorb nine-tenths of the glory in their line. It may be that without the leaders the followers would not have been able to do as well, but even this fact does not furnish a sufficient reason for attributing to the former all the honor or for depreciating the efforts of those who really are their equals if not their superiors.—[St. Louis GlobeDemocrat.

Eat Food Slowly.

Eat all food slowly. Digestion will not begin tili the temperature of the food has been raised by the heat of the stomach to 98 degrees. Hence, the more heat that can be imparted to it by slow mastication the better. The precipitation of a large quantity of cold food into the stomach by fast eating may, and often does, cause discomfort and indigestion, and every occasion of this kind results in a measurable injury to the digestive functions. Ice water drunk with cold food of course increases the mischief. Hot drinks—hot water, weak tea, coffee, chocolate, &c.—will, on the contrary, help to prevent it. But eat slowly, anyway.

THE JOKER'S BUDGET.

JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE I’lt ESS. How Easily She Does It—A Fair Description—The Christmas Pledge—All He Wanted, Etc. HOW EASILY SHE DOES IT. A man will run till he seems to feel The perspiration pour like rain, But a woman has only to kick up her heels To catch a train.—[New York Press. A FAIR DESCRIPTION. “Papa,” asked the small bov, “what is dignity?” “Dignity, my son,” replied the father, “consists principally of a tall lmt and a frock coat.”: —[Buffalo Express. THE CHRISTMAS IM.EDGE. There was a young man named Block Who wanted something to lioek; . Not a tiling could lie rake That his uncle would take, So he went and hung up his sock. ALL HE WANTED. Suitor—l came to ask for your daughter's hand. Her Father—She is my only daughter. Suitor—Well, sir, one is ali I ask. THE ,-FAD. Cushions gay on every chair, But never a place to sit: Cushiqns, cushions everywhere, Till I nearly take a fit; Cushions strewn upon the floor On every side I see My wife has taken a cushion craze And there is no room for me! —[ New York Herald. SHE SEEMED TO PREFER ANOTHER. •‘How do you get along, with Miss Coy?” “Well, I should hnvehopcsof winning her, but I honestly think I have no chance.” “If you think you have no chance why should you have hopes of winning her?” “Web, they say if you are courting a girl and she seems to prefer another, it is evident she loves you.” “Does she seem to prefer another?” “She does. She eloped with Jolliboy last night.”—[New York Press.

IT PAID. “Does poetry pay?” asked youug Rhymer, addressing the editor. “It has to pay before it gets into my paper,”was the reply; “pays the regular rates.” SHE nAD HER REVENGE. “Angelina,” said Edwin, “there is a little question that I have long been wishing to ask you.” “Yes?” she said, opening her eyes very wide and pretending complete ignorance although confident that she was fully aware of its purport. “I wanted to ask you whether I ought to let my mustache grow or not?” Gulping down her disappointment she said: “I would let it grow, if it will grow, but I’m afraid it is like you—-undecided what to do.”—[New York Press. THE LUCKY MAN. Courtleigh--See here, Marigold, you don't keep your word. When we were both after Miss Gotrox it was agreed between us that the lucky man should pay the other SIO,OOO. Marigold—Well? Courtleigh—Well, you married her. Marigold—Exactly* But upon consideration I think you owe me the ten thousand.—[New York Herald. BAD FOR TIIE DOG. Little Emile breaks his brother Toto’s rubber ball and in revenge Toto begins to kick the house dog Tom. Whereupon his mother remonstrates, saying, “Why do you do that, Toto? Doesn't Tom belong to you as well as to Emile?” “I know that very well, mamma,” replies Toto, “but I’m taking good care to kick Tom on the side that belongs to Emile.”—[Paris Gaulois.

BOUND TO SKATE. Little Boy—Papa, I wish you’d get me some skates. Pupa—Skates? There’s no ice. “I want to have ’em ready when the ice comes.” “Some winters there is no ice at all.” “Well, roller skates ’ll do.[Street & Smith’s Good News. WIIAT nE WAS WAITING FOR. “Young man,” said the stern parent, with the accent on the young, “do you intend to stay here all night holding my daughter's hand and looking her in the face like a sick call?” “No, sir.” “What do you intend to do then?" “Well, I had thought when you did us the kindness to retire I would put my arm round her waist, and if she did not' object too forcibly I might risk a kiss.” —[Boston Globe. THOUGHTLESS. “Well, if that ain’t mean!” exclaimed the prisoner. “Every one o’ the stories in this paper they’ve gimme to read is ‘to be continued.’ An’ me to be hung next week!”

IN LIEU OF A LOUD VOICE. Mrs. Drowsie—What, my dear, you are not going to wear that bright-colored necktie in the pulpit, are you? The Rev. Mr. Drowsie—Yes, I am. That’s the only way I can keep the audience awake.—[Clothier and Furnisher. HER AFTERTHOUGHT. Before bidding her good night he begged to be permitted to kiss her. “Oh, no,” she said; “I could not permit such a thing. Besides, somebody might see us.” “That’s true,” he said. There was a pause, after which she said with a light laugh: “How quiet it is here. There appears to be riobodyabout.’’—[New York Press. A GOOD TEST. Little Dot—Sister gave me her brass riii^. Little Dick—Dow do you know it’s brass? Little Dot—’Cause she gave it to me. TWO STORIES. Old Discipline—Johnny, suppose I promised you a stick of candy and did not give it to you, what would you think ? Young Three-Year-Old (promptly)— That you had told a story, papa. Old" Discipline—Well, suppose I should promise you a whipping and do not give It to you? Young Hopeful (doubtfully)—Papa—l . —dess—that—would—be—a—story, too. But I t’ink Dod would forgive you.— Jllarper's Bazar.

IHBA.BU.mEB OF SIX. LittTe Dot—l wish I was a boy. Little Dick —Why? , Little Dot—'Cause a girl always feels so wicked w’eu she does anything wrong, an’ a boy don't. Boys just goes right along an’ has a good time. [Good News. FAR ADVANCED. Agnes—Really. Helen has improved in her music wonderfully since she went abroad. Edith—ln what wav ? Agnes—Why, she never plays any thing now that sounds the least bit like a tune. —[Chicago Inter-Ocean. HOW HE DOES IT. ‘•See here, Mr. Grocer,” said a Hartford housewife, “if you are going to bring me any more goods, I want them to be the very best.” “We keep none but the best.” “I presume so; you mustsell theworst in order to keep the best.” THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. In selecting an armchair for papa seek one that will match, his temper rather than Ins complexion. Girls over twenty are likely to feel insulted if presented with wax dolls. If your husband smokes insist that he shall use the box of cigars which you gave him at Christmas. This may cure him of the habit. If you have a neighbor whose love of music keeps you awake o’ nights it will be a polite tribute to his taste if you send his small boy a drum. Your niotlier-in-law will be intensely gratified if you give her—her own way. A few sheets of postage stamps may be gracefully offered to a struggling genius. Your sweetheart will probably be as much pleased with an engagement ring ns_anything you can give her.—[Life.

THE CHRISTMAS WALLET. You know me by my hollow look, I’m papa’s empty poeketbook, I’ve had to larder up the cook, And fill the hose at chimney-nook, And when mamma of me partook I looked so awfully forsook, If pa had thrown me in the brook I’d nothing said, but simply shodk My mortal coil and thus on crook Of usefulness I’d ta’en a hook— I would —just take at me a look, I’m such a gonesome poeketbook. [Glens Falls Republican. WANTED TO SEE THE BOSS. Tramp (to lady of the house; —Where is the boss? Lady of the House (calling to her husband) —John, tell the servant girl she’s wanted. UNDER THE MISTLETOE. Miss Autumn—l wonder why Churlie asked me for a kiss last night? Miss Caustique—l suppose he was foolish enough to imagine you wouldn’t give it. RETURNED. Tom —By the way, how are you getting on with Jessie? Has she returned your love? Jack —Indeed she has (sadly), with thanks.

A Glimpse at Moscow.

I find Moscow one of the most interesting cities I have ever visited, writes Frank G. Carpenter, in the Washington Star. It is built upon hill and hollow along the winding Moscow river and it is almost circular in shape. It is twentyfive miles around it, and the shortest street car line from one part of it to the other takes you a distance of nine miles. In the very center of it is the great fortress known as the Kremlin, which has a vast wall sixty feet high running around it and in which are the palace of the Czar, a half-dozen churches, the cathedral and the tall tower built by Ivan the Terrible. This tower is five stories high audits golden dome rests in the air three hundred feet above the ground. I climbed to its top this morning and took a look over the city. A vast ocean of green trees and green houses seemed to move up and down in billowy waves below me, and out of this sea rose the golden spires of hundreds of churches. There were thousands upon thousands of trees and the roofs of all the houses were painted green. I could see the vast dome of the Church of Our Saviour near the river, and the Moscow dragged its sluggish course like a black snake in the form of the letter S through the city below. Beyond the city I could see the smokestacks of the factories in the suburbs and just under me was the triangular walled space known as the Kremlin. This contains about 200 acres. It is paved with cobblestones, and its massive wall is entered by five gates. Each of these gates has a history, and one is known as the gate of the Redeemer, or the sacred gate. It has a famous picture of the Savior above it, and every one, from the czar to the peasant, takes off his hat before passing through it. Every inch of the land about this tower is historic and sacred. In that church there all of the czars of Russia have been crowned, and in the treasury to the left are the thrones of all the emperors of the past and the historic jewels and the choicest plate now owned by the Russian crown. There are $000,000,000 worth of gold and silver and precious stones in that treasury, and there are basins of gold there which are as big as a baby's bath tub, and two card tables of solid silver which are worth a king's ransom. There are in this tower two bells of solid silver and the bells of this tower of Ivan the Great are among the most wonderful in the world

The Chinese in San Franeisco.

A mirage of Turanian civilization, a shadow of the past projected upon the present, a frontispiece out of the book of life—this, and more, is the Chinese quar ter in San Francisco. These 30,000 souls, huddled together in spaces well nigh unbreathable, uninhabitable, jostling each other along dark and crowded thoroughfares, silently and imperturbably pursuing their mysterious ways, so supremely indifferent to all that hems them in, men they seem not, but shades “all too palpable” from the deep Tartarus of Time. Architecturally, however, Little Chin is at most but an influence, and it is doubtful whether a single structure in the entire colony owes its existence entirely to Chinese capital. Indeed, the necessities of the case made no such demand upon the frugal and thrifty Mongol. Like Moliere, he took his own wherever he found it. The huge business block of San Francisco's early commercial period and the hastily constructed shanty of the sand hills alike became his property by. right of conquest, and he found both orders of American architecture equally available. The shanty soon shone resplendent in vernal green and sacrificial red; and the hard uncompromising lines of warehouse, dry-goods emporium, and office building were softened by many a jutting gable and projecting balcony, hung with lanterns and refreshed with lilies -HUrta-'-Magazine.

SOMEWHAT STRANGE.

ACQIDENTS AX’D INCIDENTS OF EVERY D„\Y MKE. Queer Facts and Thrilling Adventures Which Show That Truth Is Stranger Thau Fiction. “Speaking of strange bets on an election,” said Col. Joe Rucker of Colorado. 1 “the one that takes the ribbon over anv I have ever seen mentioned was bet, lost, and paid by an enthusiastic Greenbacker many years ago. One of these enthusiasts at that time, whose view of the political situation was seen through the roseate-hued spectacles of a reform organ, was certain that a man by the name of Brown would be elected Governor of Missouri, and bet everything he had except the clothing on his’back and a young wife. Either his affection for his wife or his knowledge of law prevented his making a wager of her, so as a last bet he wagered his services for a year agaiust SSOO. “Of course he lost, and, borrowing a few dollars from a friend, he sent his wife back ‘to her folks’ in Missouri, while he presented himself to the saloon keeper in Denver with whom he had made the bet. The latter, more as a joke than anything else, grubstaked him aud sent him out to prospect. The first month a small find rewarded his labors, and cupidity then caused the saloon keeper to insist on the payment of the wager in full. To curtail the narrative, he carried out his wager of a year’s service scrupulously, and located two more mines, from which the winner, though now wealthy, is still drawing dividends. Upon tiro fnlfii-

' ment of his obligation he sent for his wife, and is now employed by one of the street car companies of llcnver at about SSO a month, and will probably never get above that figure.” At the head of the extensive widening of the St, John’s River, in Volusia township, Florida, that is known as Lake George, lie two or three swampy islands. One of these has a few acres of ground that stand high enough out of the water to encourage orange trees and other remunerative growths, and also to afford room for a, cabin. The cabin is occupied and the trees are cultivated by a queer old fellow who has built a long ramshackle bridge from dry land to a little dock that stands in the sedge close to the main channel; Here the steamer stops on his signal to take oranges and letters, or to deliver flour and other groceries. He is a hermit who seldom ventures to the mainland. Passengers on the river steamers occasionally see him busied about the little shed on his wharf, an extraordinary figure in a homespun suit of brown, with a patch of startling white on the seat of his trousers and an indescribable liat that may once have been a “plug,” but that has been chopped aud banged and battered and unroofed until it resembles the wreck of a Napoleonic chapeau more than anything ehe. He is indifferent to criticism, however, for he lives apart "from men. His nearest neighbor is a lighthouse keeper, who would have to hunt for him with a telescope. Some affect to believe that in his younger days he was a pirate.

A very strange freak of nature is reported from Roseburg, S. C. It is a baby, whose right hand bears the imprint of a human face. The face occupies the entire palm, and is as clearly outlined as though painted on porcelain. It is the countenance of a little child about three years old lying asleep, with the eyelashes drawn in fine dark lines on the full cheeks. The mouth seems to be slightly parted, and the lips are delicately tinted'. The baby whose hand contains this singular portraiture is the clild of Clarke Osborne, a merchant of Roseburg, and Mrs. Osborne declares that the face in the infant’s palm is that of a little girl she lost about three months ago. Relatives and intimate friends profess to be able to see a strong resemblance to the dead child. When the baby was first put into its mother’s arms she looked at the hands, and with a loud cry fainted away, but on coming to herself exhibited the little creature’s hands to the attendants, who saw at once the strange likeness to the dead and gone sister. Mrs. Osborne was at first much frightened over the singular ciicumstance, but at last became convinced that the strange portrait was sent to comfort her. The image on the palm was clearer the first few days of the baby’s life than now, and it is thought to be gradually fading away. A little post office near Witmer’s, on the main line of the Pennsylvania Railroad, enjoys the unique distinction of being the only office in the country wherein a dog officiates as assistant postmaster. Postmaster Musselmns’s canine assistant is a little St. Charles spaniel called Beauty, upon whom hus devolved for five years the task of bringing irom Witmer's Station, a half mile distant, the bundle of morning papers from Philadelphia. Two bundles, a large and a small one, are thrown off at the" station, says the Philadelphia Record. Regularly every morning Beauty (trots over the fields to the station aud patiently awaits the arrival of the train. When the two bundles are thrown off Beauty seizes the smaller one in her mouth and trots directly home. She never makes a mistake, always taking the small bundle; neither does she loiter along by the roadside, but covens the distance between Witmer’s and the cross-roads post office at a speed that would almost do credit to Nancy Hanks herself. Beauty has l>een assistant postmaster almost since her birth, and could hardly be replaced. A most peculiar custom which has been preserved since the Middle Ages at Friburgen-Brisgau is .that of climbing 'the cathedral tower upon the anniversary of the birth of the reigning Duke of Baden. This tower is 400 feet high, and to scale it from the ground to its apex is a very difficult performance attended with great danger. It is done bj; climbing from one projection to another, these being on the average one foot apart. A ■single false step neans death. To descend is also no easy task. Each person who makes the climb and the descend safely receives five marks from the State and a ticket of admission to the annual dinner given in honor of the day. The seventy-six anniversary of the birth of the present Duke was recently celebrated, and three men performed the feat successfully. One of the three was 1 coolheaded enough to pause when be had climbed about 200 feet and indulge in an acrobatic performance. He was warmly applauded by the enormous crowd of' spectators which always gathers oa the Duke’s birthday anniversary. A curious freak of nature has taken place in the person of a young man named Jones, aged 22 years, living at Stamping Ground, Ky. About <two years ago he complained of a severe pain' in his left > shoulder and arm to the elbow. He suffered intensely for several months, when the part affected began to change color until it became a dark brown, and at the same time the pain diminished until it finally ceased, when it was.

noticed (this was about a year ago) that a thick growth of brown hair had made its appearance on the brown or disco.ored parte, extending from the elbow to the collar bone, covering the shoulder blade, and at this time the hair is over one inch in length, the pain has entirely disappeared, and the young man has almost twice the strength in that arm that he lias in the other. George B. Clark of Derby Village, Conn., had extraordinary luck bagging a partridge a few days ago. He was driving along a country road at the edge of a wood in Wood bridge, when h's dog, that had been scouting about the forest, flushed a couple of partridges. The birds burst out of the brush witn a great whirr, flying side by side, and as they were passing over Mr. Clark’s head he made a sudden vicious cut with his whip at them. Curiously, the iongseiff whipstock smote one of the birds and broke her neck. -The selectman exhibited his bird to all his neighbors, triumphantly declaring that he is the only man in tho world who ever stopped a partridge on the wing with a whip. The little village of Berated, near Bognor, possesses an uuique curiosity in the form of an inn room papered with postage stamps.* The apartment is fanci- ■ tully decorated with many descriptions of used stamps, and even the passage leading to the room is similarly papered. Some five years was occupied in making the collection, which numbers some thousands of stamps. The room being completed in 1887 received the name of the “Jubilee Stamp Room.’’ Indeed, some members of the royal family, interested in the collection, are said to have added to it a number of stamps on their own account.

There is a big hotel in San Francisco that pays delicate attention to its guests, and also gets some valuable advertising for itself, by the liberal use of flowers among the guests. There, when a man and wife arrives, aud are ushered into the most cheerless of habitations, a hotel bedroom, the desolation is soon relieved by a bell-boy coming with a basket of flowers, which he says “Mr. , the manager of the house, sends to Mrs. Blank, with his compliments.” This little attention has made the hotel famous.

The great attraction at the London Aquarium continues to be the “slugging” matches between Professor Laudermann and an Australian kangaroo. The kangaroo is seven feet in height, and according to all reports he is no mean “slugger.”' Several men who faced him for a few rounds are now in the hospital. Sarah Bernhardt offered the Professor $5,000 for the kangaroo, but he is considered worth many times that sum.

William Spooner, about seventy years of age, died suddenly at Milan, Tenn., recently. He had gone to a neighbor's house and eaten breakfast, when he dropped dead. He was a. singular character. For eight years he has refused to live in a house, and for a number of years lived in a hollow tree, doing his own cooking and washing. He was robbed of several thousand dollars and this loss probably unbalanced his mind and caused him to live a hermit’s Life.

A woman in Kingston. N. Y., recently met with an accident which necessitated the amputation of one of her feet. Her husband is buried in St. Mary's cemetery in that city, and as she ex poets to be interred in the same grave with him she caused it' to be opened and the foot buried there. Is this the “burial by installments” system?

A “jungle man” was recently caught in China and is now being exhibited in Ceylon. The creature stands two feet in height, has a head and a face, like a monkey and a body which, but for its diminutive size, appears to be similar to that of a humati being. The hauds and feet are perfect. The missing link is about four years old and is attracting a great deal of attention. '

While some Wesleyan students were practising baseball on the college campus, one of them saw what he supposed to be the ball rapidly approaching him. He put out his hauds to catch it, when much to his surprise it was found to be a fullgrown quail. The bird was given to Ornithologist E. H. Hubbard.

Do Rocks Grow ?

The question in the headline is often asked, and not infrequently by scholarly people, too. By way of a general answer to all such questioners I would say that the best authorities have come to this conclusion ) That rocks do not grow in the sense that plants do. They may increase in size by means of accretion, and they may also undergo other changes. Old sea beds lifted up and exposed for ages become stratified beds of sandstone or limestone; volcanic ashes or lava strewn over hills and plains become tufa hard enough for building stone, and the pebbly shores of rivers and smaller streams may sometimes change into cotfglomerates. The simple mineral, however, does grow, especially when it takes upon itself the form of a crystal. A sparkling prism of quartz increases from an atom to monster crystals of varying length and size by what geologists know as a “process of addition and assimilation.” This process is wonderfully slow, but with a mathematical exactness that is a surprise to persons even “well up” in the science of geology. In one sense stones grow; in another they do not. Tho crystal, may become longer or larger, but the boulder on the roadside will not increase 9 hair’s breadth in length or width in the next 10,000 years.—[St. Louis Republic.

Wonderful Echoes.

In the Roman Campagna, at the sepulchre of Metella, wife of Sulla, there is an echo which reports five times, each being in a different key. It will also repeat a hexameter line, or another sentencewhich can be spoken in two and a half seconds. On the banks of the river Naha, between Bingen and Coblentz, there is an. echo capable of repeating a sentence seventeen different times. A peculiarity of this echo is that, although the original word or sentence be uttered in a, whisper, yet the volume of sound increases many folds in the echo. In the chapel of the Abercorn family,, at Paisley, the closing of the door produces a sound which roars like distant, thunder. The echo at the “Eagle’s nest,” Killarnev, Ireland, repeats a bugle note at. least 100 times. Between the two wings of the castle of Simonetta two miles out from Milan, the report of a pistol shot is repeated, sixty times. At the.same place a single musical instrument produces the effee of a full orchestra.

,“He's only a representative ao yet, but I think that in time he will become 3power in politics. ” ‘•Good talker, is he?” “No. keeps his-mouth shut.”