Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 August 1893 — Page 6

AN IDYL OF HONOLULU.

A Bold Stroke for a Husband. Written for This Paper.

CHAPTEB ll—Continued. He glanced swiftlv around, adding: “Yes, here are the traces of half a lozen men. You are suffering from a blow, sir, that has nearly cost you your life!” “Do you think so?” queried Ralph. “There’s no doubt about it. But what’s the use of talking to you on the subject? Don’t you remember who waylaid you? Don’t you remember anything about the fight?” “Fight? fight? Has there been a fight?’ “Pshaw! Haven’t you some papers about you that will tell who you are?” “Papers?” “Here, let me search your pockets!” proposed the Kanaka impatiently. No opposition being made to this proposal, the Kanaka at once carried it into execution. The result of the search was a considerable number of letters, receipts, bills of exchange, and other documents in which the identity of our hero was perfectly manifest. “Here, read there!” cried the Kanaka, in a fever of impatience. “These will tell who and what you are. Read them. Unfortunately, I never learned to read —few of our people did until after the arrival of the missionaries. Read them!”

He opened one of the letters and hold it under Ralph’s gaze, continuing to repeat his injunction, but our hero merely looked puzzled again, and stared blankly at the bold chirography before him. “I —I am just like you,” he declared. “I—l never learned to read, either.” For a moment the Kanaka looked dumfounded—annihilated—but he then slapped himself violently on the breast with an air of reviving hopes and spirits. “1 have it,” he cried. “I’ll take you to Mr. Bullet." He gathered the various papers of our hero into a package, thrust them into one of his own pockets, and passed his arm through Ralph’s, leading him away into the interior of the inland, taking the general direction of Krowwoiv, at the head of the Pearl Locks. “Mr. Bullet is the man I work for,” explained the Kanaka, as he walked onward. “I don’t know as you will ever understand what that means, but it can do you no harm for me to mention the fact. Mr. Bullet has quite a good farm up here, in a pleasant although rather retired valley. He has had great experience in all sorts of business, and he will tell us in a minute what all these papers have to say about you.” At the end of a weary walk of about three miles the couple reached the crest of a hill, from which they could look down into a beautiful and fertile valley of small extent immediately in front of them. It was well tilled and well shaded, and a little stream of water flowed through it on its way from one of the high plateaus of the Konahuanui range of the sea. 1 “Mr. Bullet lives in the house you see youder, ” announced the Kanaha, pointing out a small four-roomed cottage of a story and a half , that occupied a prominence at one side of the valley. “As you see, it is built in the American style. Mr. Bullet is an American by birth, and was for many years a sailor.”

Our hero did not respond to these observations any more than he had responded to the various other observations of his companion since setting out for the residence of Mr. Bullet. The cause of this silence was, evidently, that his eyes were entirely oocupied, as were his sensations, with the various new and striking scenes constantly presenting themselves to his notice. “Here we are, ” muttered the Kanaka, a few moments later, as he turned off from the rude road to a still ruder path that led across or through the garden of the Bullet estate; “and here is Mr. Bullet himself. ”

He waved his hand toward a personage who stood under the edge of a little shed at one end of the house, engaged in the modest occupation of splitting a stick of wood into small pieces to boil some water for his tea. This man was indeed Mr. Bullet. He was a thin and withered little old man, but yet the possessor of a great deal of strength and vigor. He was at least 60 years of age, and had not the least vestige of a tooth in his head, but this circumstance did not prevent him from chewing tobacco with such energy that Its juice ran continually from each corner of his mouth like cider from a press. Hearing his name pronounced by the Kanaka, he accepted the fact as a sort of introduction to our hero, to whom he bowed with sufficient affability. Ralph responded in kind mechanically, and then resumed his staring and wondering survey of things around him in a way that at once fixed the old sailor’s attention.

“Who is he, Kulu?” he asked in a low tone as the Kanaka, withdrawing his arm from Ralph’s, advanced to his employer’s side. "I don’t know who he is,” replied Kulu. “He has been in a fight, or somebody has waylaid him. There is an awful wound on his head ” “Where did you find him?” demanded Bullet, keenly interested. “In a lonely spot at Kaliki Bay—not far from the water. He is a very nice young man, as you can see, but he don’t know who he is, nor where he came from, nor how he got into this awful fix—” At this point of Kulu’s exciting statements Bullet caught him by the arm“Hushl” he enjoined, stepping about excitedly, as if the ground were burning the soles of his feet. “I comprehend! An appalling mystery! At the least, a case of assault with intent to kill. Caution!” And he raised his hand warningly. “ You don’t know who the young man is, then?” “No, but these papers I found in his pockets will probably tell you.” He handed out the bundle of documents he had secured, adding: “He’s not able to read them himself. His memory is gone entirely,, like that of the man in Honolulu ” A start and a ory from Bullet interrupted the history of “the man in Honolulu.” The old man had turned pale as a corpse, and the papers to which he had directed his attention was shaken violently in his hand. “What is it?” p asked Kulu. The question recalled Mr. Bullet to himself. He controlled his excitement, folded up the document which had so visibly startled Mm, and unfolded another. The whole batch was soon passed in review, and during this time the old man had gradually recovered sgom his first emotions. He had even

BY LEON LEWIS.

forced himself to be outwardly as cool as an iceberg. “These papers don’t amount to anything,” he said, as he put them all together and put them into his own pocket. “They don’t tell me who the young man is, nor anything about him. Part of them are in a language unknown to me. Have you met anybody since you saw the young man?” “No, sir.” “Then of course you have said nothing to any one about him, nor has he been seen by anyone whatever?” “No, sir.”' “That is well, Kulu. Don't mention the affair to any one. Don’t let any one know that there is such a person in existence. I will take charge of the poor young man myself, and try to bring the offenders to justice. But you must not say a word to any human being about meeting him. If you do it will not only d£foat the ends of justice but you will lose your place in my service. ,r “Oh, I understand," returnod Kulu, who knew enough not to offend his employer, whatever else ho knew or suspected. “The matter ends here so far as lam concerned. My meeting with the young man is as though it had not been. You can depend upon my silence." “Then all will bo well with him and with us. You can leave mo now, Kulu, but come and see me in the morning and I’ll tell you what light I am able to get upon the subject. It is to be hoped that I may get track of the would-be assassins. But it all depends upon your silence. They must be left to tnink the young man is dead, you tee. ” Kulu again promised secrecy and took his way toward his own little cabin, a quarter of a mile further in the interior of the island. “Please walk in—walk in, my young friend,” said Bullet to our hero, as soon as Kulu was gono. Ralph complied mechanically and was soon seated in the little sittingroom of his host. “A terrible misfortune, sir,” muttered Bullet, as ho set about dressing the young man’s wounds, “but I dare say you’ll soon be all right again.” He spent nearly half an hour in dressing the sufferer’s wounds —which were many and serious, in addition to the bump upon his head—and during this time he gave his patient several swallows of stimulant, and plied him with a great many questions. “You must drink this, sir,” he said, when his task was done, offoring a final potion. The patient drank it without hesitation or remark. “You must now let mo get you to bed,” said Bullet. Ralph not making the least objection, he was soon undressed and placod in a comfortable bod—Bullet’s own—in a little apartment adjoining tho sittingroom.

“And you must go to sleep now, sir,” finished tho old sailor, as ho sat down beside tho bed and passed his hand over the patient’s eyes. “I will watch hero, so that no harm will reach you.” Ralph shut his eves as willingly as obediently, and in loss than a minute thereafter his breathing" announced that he was aslcop. And then Bullet arose with a strange look of jubilance upon his countenance. His eyes gleamed cunningly. “Could anything be better?” he ejaculated in a whisper. “The presence of this young man hero in such a fix is a great thing for mo and Alma. He’s lost to his friends, to himself, to everybody, but his papers tell me just who he is. Glorious! glorious! He is to me and Alma a suro pledge of fortuno!” Crossing the floor on .tiptoe, he opened a door giving upon a narrow stairway, and called in a, whisper: “Are you there, Alma’?” . “Yes, father,” replied a feminine voioe. “What do you want?” “Come down here immediately. But be still about it!”

CHAPTER 111. THE OLD SAILOR'S PLOT. Hardly a minute had passed when Miss Alma Bullet descended the stairs. She was rather stout of person, and her complexion was as gay and vivid as an Indian blanket, but she was nevertheless endowed with a fair share of attractions for a country where goodlooking women are scarce. She had coarse, irregular features and vivacious eyes, and possessed an average intelligence and capacity. She could have further been commended as healthy and a good cook. Hs anything wrong?” she asked. “No; everything is right,” replied Bullet, with suppressed jubilance. “Hush! don’t speak too loud, or you’ll disturb him." “Disturb whom?" “That model of manly beauty in my bed! I’ve called you to share my joy, joy, Alma. In short, I’ve summoned you as —as a vulture to the feast!" He waved both hands over and around the helpless sleeper. Advancing pn tiptoe, Alma Bullet peered into the little bedroom, surveying the unconscious young Chicagoan with an interest and curiosity she did not attempt to conceal. “Who is he?" she asked. “I’ll soon tell you,” replied Bullet. “Sit down here—no, not beside me but exactly in front. I wish to take a good square look at you." j X Alma took the position ind Seated, Wiping his spectacles nervdusly, yet deliberately, Bullet proceeded to saddle his nose with them, and then brought a long and critical stare to bear upon his offspring. .. t “Yes, you’ll do," he ribitterefl, after closing the door leading into the bedroom. “A Httle fat and red, to be sure; but there is no man wants aj pale and die-away ghost for a wife.' A little burned with summer suns, but all the more healthy. Yes, you’ll fill the hill nicely." / X “What does this mean?” Alma. “It means that we are on the threshold of a gigantic destiny,” replied the old sailor impressively; ’‘that the hour of fate has sounded; that our Ship is about to enter port; In short, that we have hooked on to the world and are about to tow it away to our cave to digest it at our leisure 1" i. “Yes, I see,” said Alma, perfectly bewildered, with a mental inquiry as to what was the matter with her parent, “but do please explain your meaning more fully." j “You shall be enlightened. iLet’s see, dean how old are you? Is it 14, or are you 15?” ■■ ■ % ■ . “Do hear the man!” iteturned Ana. “You know very well that I was 18 the 20th of last March." Bullet opened hilVyes to their widest I extent, in unfeigned astonishment.

"Is It possible?” he cried. “How time does fly, to be sure! At this gait, I am being robbed of half my existence! Eighteen, are you? This accounts for the presence of that worthies* beef-destroyer who has been hanging 1 around you lately!” “You refer to Mr. Keeri, I suppose?” “Yes, I do. Keeri? Heavens, what a name for a son-in-law! He’s not more than half or three-quarters white, and what white blood there is in him is utterly wasted. Get rid fit him, girlget rid of him. Send him about his business. Turn him adrift ” “Well, well, I’ve turned him adrift already,’’ interrupted Alma. “Is tnis so, really?” “Yes, three or four weeks since. If you choose to recall the fact, you haven’t seen Mr. Keeri about the premises lately.” “That’s so, sure enough, cried Bullet, after an instant's reflection. “Some good angel must have directed you. You’ve got rid of that fellow just in time. You concluded he wasn’t good enough for you, I presume? You don't want a scarecrow husband, or a cheap imitation, when you can got the real thing. I always thought you both sensible and ambitious.” “But what has all this to do with this young stranger?” “I’m coming to that directly. Do you remember your mother?” “Perfectly, of course.”

“She was ambitious, too. She was a literary lady—the daughter of a missionary who could read many written languages. But the said missionary was a wandering sort of prophet, and in his restless attempts to convert all creation ho fell into the hands of a Fiji chief who made a square meal of him. Your mother was thus left fatherless, and her mother was left penniless, and this is how it happens that you have received nothing but your good looks and your education from your maternal ancestry-.” Alma expressed by a look her keen realisation of this lack of pecuniary inheritance. “Anctas to my side of tho house, the less said the better,” continued Bullet. “I’m nothing but a runaway sailor from a whaler. Was noarly a blockhead to begin with. Never had any schooling beyond two or three cracks on the head with a ruler. Have learned all I know since I was forty. Hadn’t a dollar when I took it into my noddle, one fine morning about twenty years ago, to give tho old whaler the slip, but your mother managed to get me a chance to pull a hand-press for the missionaries, and I pulled it to some advantage. Advancing step by stop, I have paid for this little homestead, besides securing a good living. But you will see by this exhibit that neitner your birth nor your fortune will satisfy your reasonable ambition. You must look to another to give you the place in the world of which you aro worthy—namely, your husband. And this precious husband is found!” “You refer to this young stranger?” “Yes, Alma. In him you see your future husband, unless I slip upeussedly in my calculations!” Alma advanced aguin on tiptoe to the door of communication, which she placed ajar, and again contemplated the features of the sleeper long and earnestly. A flush of curious interest appeared on her cheeks as she again closed the door and resumed her seat. [to bis continued. |

A New Cure for Appendicitis.

Of late years a fearful dread has gone abroad that every one who eats fruits with small seeds in them is pretty sure to run the risk of dying a fearful death by appendicitis, or be forced to undergo a dangerous operation. So strong has this dread taken hold of the public mind that thousands refuse to eat small fruits when seeds have to be eaten with them. Grapes are always pitted by them, and blackberries, and even raspberries, with their small insidious seeds, are taken entirely from their bill of fare. The fact is that appendicitis occurs very rarely, and the percentage of people who eat fruit with seeds in them that are caught is insignificantly small. When the complaint does seize one it is not necessary to resort to an operation except in severe cases, nor is it absolutely necessary to die. The latest and most successful cure is to administer Internally one to two ounces of sweet oil every three hours until the pain and fever are relieved. The seed which causes the trouble irritates the muscular tissue so that congestion follows, and this may soon cause inflammation of a very serious character. Sweet oil, administered i* time and faithfully, allays the inflammatory condition, reduces temperature, and relaxes the tension of the muscular coating of the intestines and anpendix. Besides this it takes seed or all foreign substauces with it, and effects a complete cure. The patient should be kept in bed and poultices should be applied very hot over the seat of pain.

Down Mount Hamilton at Night.

It was late when we left the building and began the downward trip, says a writer In the Californian. It was so dark that I determined to ride down as far as Smith’s, making the start from there afresh in the morning. The coach I happened to catch contained a party of excursionists. The road down from the- summit is in all probability the finest cut road in the world, but it Is steep, abounds in short turns and terrific preoipices, and is not a road on# would select to go down at full speed. Yet when the four-in-hand turned down into the road, the driver mashed his hat firmly on his head, and brought a crack from his whip like the report of a revolver, at which the horses sprang forward in a mad gallop. Crack came the whip again, and with a terrifio sway the heavy coach swung round the curve and went tearing down the road, while fitful shrinks began to come lrom the “inskies.” Trees, spectral trunks, great oaks.an(i sycamores fiew by, clouds of dust rose and hid the landscape so that the horses seemed rushing into a fog bank. Over bridges we went, the thunder of hoofs rising in the night with a weird and forbidding sound. The pace kept increasing; the horses were at a dead run, sweeping round cuives with a frightful swing, now coming up under the brake with a terrifio crash, then tearing madly on in the wild race for the lights of Smith’s away below in the gloom. Great trees with long branching arms reached out, seeming to intercept the road. Gulfs of gloom opened up suddenly, as the coach dashed around the curves. Spectral sycamores stood white and distinct, where on every side masses of verdure made the night more Impenetrable—a black gulf all about, down which they seemed scurrying. On plunged the coach—horses and driver seemingly gone mad—until finally, after pivoting around in a remarkable manner, we rushed away in a cloud of dust over the little bridge into the blending and welcome light of Smith’s inn. Tre honor of the invention of printing has been olaimed by Mentz, Strasburg, Haarlem, Venice, Borne, Florence, Basle, and Augsburg. The first three only are entitled to consideration.

SOME SANITARY ASPECTS OF BREAD-MAKING.

BY CYHUS EPSON,

[Health Commissioner, New York City.] It is necessary, if one would understand the sanitary aspects of breadmaking, to fully comprehend the present theory held by scientists of germs and the part played by them in disease. The theory of disease germs is merely the name given to the knowledge had of those germs by medical men, a knowledge which is the result of innumerable experiments. Being this, the old term of a “theory” has become a misnomer. A germ of a disease is a plant so small that I do not know how to express intelligibly to tho general reader its lack of size. When this germ is introduced into the blood or tissues of the body, its action appears to be analagous to that which takes place when yeast is added to dough. It attacks certain elements of tho blood or tissues, and destroys thorn, at the same time producing now substances. But the germs of the greater part of the germ diseases, that is, of the infectious and contagious diseases, will develop or increase in number without being in the body of a human being, provided always you give thorn tho proper conditions. Those conditions are to be found in dough which is be-

“DISEASE GERMS FOUND THEIR WAY INTO THE YEAST BREAD."

ing raised with yeast. They are warmth, moisture and the organic matter of the flour on which the germs, after certain changes, feed. It is necessary to remember at this point that yeast is germ growth, and when introduced into a mixture of glucose or starch, in tho presence of warmth and moisture sets up a fermentation. If the mixture be a starchy dough the yeast first changes a portion of the starch into glucose and then decomposes the glucose by changing it into two new substances, viz., carbonio acid gas and alcohol. Now the gluten, which is also a constituent of dough and moist starch, affords, with the latter, an excellent nidus for the development of germs of disease as well as for the yeast germs. The germs of cholera, as of typhoid fever, would, if introduced into dough, find very favorable conditions for their growth. I do not wish to “pose” as an alarmist, nor am I willing to say there is very much chance of the germs of typhus and of cholera reaching the stomachs of the people who eat bread which has been raised with yeast. But I have not tho slightest cause to doubt that other diseases have been and will be carried about in the bread.

I have met journeymen bakers, suffering from cutaneous diseases, working the dough in the bread trough with naked hands and arms. I have no reason to suppose bakers are less liable to cutaneous diseases than are other men, and I know, as every housewife knows, yeast-raised bread must be worked a long time. This is an exceedingly objectionable thing from the standpoint of a physician, for the reason that the germs of disease which are in the air and dust and on stairways and straps in street cars, are most often collected on the hands. Any person who has ever kneaded dough understands the way in which the dough cleans the hands. This moans that any germs which may have found a lodging place on the hands of the baker before he makes up his batch of bread are sure to find their way into the dough, and once there, to find all the conditions necessary for subdivision and growth. This is equivalent to saying that we must rely on heat to kill these germs, because it is almost certain that they will be there. Now, underdone or doughy bread is a form which every man and woman has seen. It is a belief as old as the hills that underdone bread is unhealthful. This reputation has been earned for it by the experience of countless generations, and no careful mother will wish her children to eat bread that has not been thoroughly cooked. The reason given for this recognized unhealthfulness has been that the uncooked yeast dough is very difficult to digest. No one but a physican would be apt to think of disease germs which have not been killed during the process of baking as a cause of the sickness following the use of uncooked yeast bread. Yet this result from this cause is more than probable. • I have not the slightest doubt that could we trace back some of the cases of illness which we meet in our practice we would find that germs collected by the baker have found their way into the yeast bread,that the heat has not been sufficient to destroy them, that the uncooked yeast bread has been eaten and with it the colonies of germs, that they have found they way into the blood and that the call for our services which followed has rounded off this Beauence of events.

I have already pointed out that the germs of disease are to be found in the air and dust. The longer any substance to be eaten is exposed to the air, the greater the chance that germs will be deposited on it. Bread raised with yeast is worked down or kneaded twice before being baked, and this process may take anywhere from four hours to ten. It has, then, the chance of collecting disease germs during this process of raising, and it has two periods of working down or kneading, during each of which it may gather the dirt containing the germs from the baker’s hands. As no bread save that raised with yeast goes through this long process of raising and kneading, so no bread save that raised with yeast has so good a chance of gathering germs. What is meant by “raising” bread is worth a few words! The introduction of the yeast into the moist dough and the addition of heat when the pan is placed near the fire produces an enormous growth of the yeast fungi—the yeast “germ,” in other words. These fungi effect a destructive fermentation of a portion of the starchy matter of the flour —one of the most valuable nutrient elements in the flour. The fermentation produces carbonic acid gas, and this, having its origin in every little particle of the starch, wfilfcn is itself everywhere in the flour, pushes aside the particles of the dough Vo give itself room. This is what is called “raising the bread.” It needs but a glance to see that it is, in its effects on the dough, purely meohanieal. The dough, which was be-

fore a close-grained mass, is now full of little holes, and when cooked in this condition is what we ordinarily call light. This porous quality of the bread enables the stomach to rapidly and easily digest it, for the gastric juices quickly soak into and attack it from all sides. The fermentation of the dough, however, uses up a portion of the nutrient elements of the loaf. If it be possible, therefore, to produce a light porous loaf without this destruction and without the “kneading” process, which fills the dough with germs and filth, and without the long period during which the raising process goes on, the gain in food and the gain in the avoidance of the germs is exceedingly plain. But while we can easily see the dangers which attend the use of yeast it is certain that the vesiculating effect produced by it on the dough is to the last degree perfect. It is apparent that if we are to substitute any other system of bread making we must have one which will give us, first, mechancal results equally as good, that is, that will produce minute bubbles of carbonic acid gas throughout the mass of dough. Now it is in no way difficult to produce carbonic acid gas chemically, but when wo are working at bread we must use such chemicals as are perfectly healthful. Fortunately these

M. D.

are not hard to find. The evils which attend the yeast-made bread are obviated by the use of a properly made, pure and wholesome baking powder in lieu of yeast. Baking powders are composed of an acid and an alkali, which, if properly combined, should when they unite at once destroy themselves and produce carbonic acid as. A good baking powder does its work while the loaf is in the oven, and, having done it, disappears. But care is imperative in selecting the brand of baking powder to be certain that it is composed of non-in-jurious chemicals. Powders containing alum or those which are compounded from impure ingredients, or those which are not combined in proper proportion or carefully mixed and which will leave either an acid or an alkali in the broad, must not be used. It is well to sound a note of warning in this direction, or the change from the objectionable yeast to an impure baking powder will be a case of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. The best baking powder made is, as shown by analysis, the “Royal." It contains absolutely nothing but cream of tartar and soda, refined to a chemical purity, which when combined under the influence of heat and moisture produce carbonio acid gas, and having done this, disappear. Its leavening strength has been found superior to other baking powders, and as far as I know, it is the only powder which will raise large bread perfectly. Its use avoids the long period during which the yeast-made dough must stand in order that the starch may ferment, and there is also no kneading necessary. The two materials used in the Royal, cream of tartar and soda, are perfectly harmless, even when eaten. But they are combined in exact compensating weights, so that when chemical action begins between them they practially disappear, the substance of both having been taken up to form the carbonic acid gas. More than this, the proper method of using the powder insures the most thorough mixing with the flour. The proper quantity being taken, it is mixed with the flour and stirred around in it. The mixture is then sifted several times, and this insures that in every part <jf the flour there shall be a tew particles of the powder. The salt and milk or water being added, the dough is made up as quickly as possible, and molded into the loaves. These are placed in the oven and baked. But the very moment the warmth and moisture attack the mix-

BREAD WITHOUT YEAS! —“THE MOST PERFECT OF ALL CONCEIVABLE WAYS OF RAISING IT.

ture of cream of tartar and soda, these two ingredients chemically combine, and carbonic acid or leavening gas is evolved. The consequence may lie seen at a glance; the bread is raised during the time it is baking in the oven, and this is the most perfect of all conceivable methods of raising it. Here, then, there is no chance for germs of disease to get into the dough and thence into the stomach; more than that, the bread is necessarily as sweet as possible, there having been no time in which it could sour. This involves the fact that the bread so made will keep longer, as it i 3 less likely to be contaminated by the germs that effect the souring process. It will be strange if the crowds of visitors to the World’s Fair do not greatly increase the number of contagious diseases, which we will have to treat. Under these circumstances is it not folly of follies to open a single channel through which these germs may reach us ? Is it not the part of wisdom to watch with the greatest care all that we eat and drink, and to see that none but the safest and best methods are employed in the preparation of our food ? To me it seems as though there could be but one answer to questions like these. I have shown the danger of using the yeast-raised bread, and with this I have shown how that danger may be avoided. The ounce of prevention,

which in this case Is neither difficult nor expensive, is certainly worth many pounds of cure, and the best thing about it is that it may be relied on almost absolutely. Those who eat bread or biscuits or rolls made at home with Royal baking powder may be sure they have absolutely stopped one channel through which disease may reach them. Note.—Housekeepers desiring Information In regard to the preparation of the bread, which, for sanitary reaao a, Ur. Kdson so strongly urges for general nse, should write to the Boyal Baking Powder Company, New York

As Good as a Seashore Cottage.

“Are you going to the seashore this summer?” Jones asked of Brown. “N-not exactly,” said Brown, “but we’re going to accomplish the same result without going from home at all." “What do you mean?” “Why, it’s this way: You see, when a person of my means takes a cottage at the seashore he, of course, gets a poor sort of Bhanty, because we can’t afford a large, finely finished and well-furnished house. You know the sort of place the usual summer cottage is. Well, we’ve decided to accomplish the result in another way. We're going to move up into the attic for the summer.” “Move up into the attic?” “Why, certainly. It is unfinished, just like a seashore cottage. The sun beats down on the shingles and raises the temperature above 100 degrees every sunny summer day; that’s just like a seashore cottage, too. When it rains the water doesn’t beat through our roof, to be sure, as it does through the roofs of the seashore cottages, but we can remedy that by poking a few boles through the shingles here and there, and getting the roof mended in the fall. It will smell a little stuffy, but that is eminently like a seashore cottage. We shall keep a clothes basket full of unwashed clam shells standing in the corner to produce a realistic effect. On the whole we shall be ever so much more comfortable in our own accustomed garret than we would be at the seaside, and we shall have this inestimable advantage, that when we get sick of it we can simply move right down into our own comfortable home, whereas if we were at the shore and paying a high price for a cottage we should feel bound to stick it out to the bitter end. Oh, I tell you it is a great scheme!"—Boston Transcript.

An Amusing Derivation.

Lexicographers of other days were notoriously at fault with their derivations, and an amusing instance is given as to how plausible etymologies may be concocted. It appears that the learned Porson was staying at one time with a well known Canon of Ely named Jeremiah King. One day at dinner, when they had got into a discussion upon questions of etymology, Porson gave a derivation which King considered so far-fetched as to be quite ridiculous. “You might as well say that my name is connected with cucumber,” said King. Possibly there was a cucumber on the dinner table. “And so it is,” said Porson. “How so?” asked King. “Why, thus—Jeremiah King, by contraction Jerry King; Jerry King, by contraction and metathesis, Gherkin; and gherkin, we know, is a cucumber pickled.” Parson’s definition of the meaning of the word gherkin is almost as erroneous, it will be observed, as his playful derivation, since gherkin is not a pickled cucumber, but a small cucumber of a particular variety commonly used for pickling.

Wonderful Helen Keller.

Helen Keller, the wonderful deaf, dumb, and blind girl, who has been taught so much despite her triple affliction, has been visiting Prof. Graham Bell, in Washington. She has lately taken up the study of French, and already has a good knowledge of the language. In a letter to a friend she once wrote: “I am always delighted when any one writes me a beautiful thought which I can treasure in my memory forever. It is because mv books are so full of the riches of which Mr. Ruskin speaks that I love them so dearly. I did not realize until I began to write the sketch what precious companions books have been to me, and how blessed even my life has been, and now I am happier than ever because I do realize the happiness that has come to me.” This was written two years ago, when she was but II years old.

A Georgia Marriage Ceremony.

A justice of the peace in Sandersville, Ga., being called upon to perform a marriage ceremony, is accused of concluding with, “By the authority vested in me as an officer of the Stat ■ of Georgia, which is sometimes called tho Empire State of the South; by the fields of cotton that lie spread out in snowy whiteness around us; by the howl of the coon dog, and the gourd vine whose clinging tendrils will shade the entrance to your humble dwelling

place; by the red and luscious heart of the watermelon whose sweetness fills the heart with joy; by the heavens ar.d earth, in the presence of these witnesses, I pronounce you man and wife.

Pat’s "Wit Always on Tap.

A son of Erin was coming up-town oh the evening of Decoration Day feeling much exhilarated. He sat in the street car exclaiming at short intervals and in various keys: “H’rah - f’r oul’ Irelan’.” He said it when the conductor asked for his fare and he said it when someone asked him to move along and make room; he said it when he got ofT the car, and to the first man he met he shouted: “H’rah f’r oul’ Irelan’." The man didn’t sympathize with his mood, and answered surlily: “Hurrah for h—ll.” The Irishman faced about and laid a detaining arm on the other man’s shoulder. “Tha's jus’w’at I’s’bout t’ remark,” said he. confidentially; “ev’ry man f’r ’s own country."—New York Times.

Blockaded by Bees.

A swarm of bees entered the cab of a locomotive at Huntington, Pa., drove the engineer and fireman out, and stopped travel on the road until the farmer owning the invaders appeared and effected their removal. Experience teaches by disappointment and failure.

HUMOR OF THE WEEK

STORIES TOLD BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Many Odd, Curious, and laughable Phases of Human Nature Graphically Portrayed by Eminent Word Artists of Our Own Day —A Budget of Fan. Sprinkles of Bplce. The ocean breakers come in swell and grand and go out broke.—Picayune. Do not be a minnow. Take the world for your school.—Galveston News. The prize bull is generally unapproachable In his particular field.— Troy Press. Jagson says he has no objection to a foreign air if it is disinfected.—Elmira Gazette. The street-paver isn’t far wrong In characterizing his work as beneath him.—Buffalo Courier. Inquisitive Party Whose funeral is this? Irish Undertaker— Mine, sor.—Texas Siftings. Almost everyone who can’t sing was at one time a member of a church choir.—Atchison Globe.

“Did you see that shocking straw hat De Slips is wearing?” “Yes; another Panama scandal.”—Puck. Jagson says that the fellow who keeps whistling “After the Ball” ought to get it. —Emira Gazette. “Do you use condensed milk?” “Guess so. The milkman can put a quart of it in a pint jar.”—Puck. Teacher—Define ‘gentleman.’ Boy—A gentleman Is a growed-up boy wot used to mind his mother.— Good News. Many show their teeth when they grin, but few grin when they have to show them to a dentist.—Philadelphia Times. It is singular that so many banks should be swamped when the people have so thoroughly draiiied them.— Lowell Courier. “He is flippant He can’t he serious if he tries.” “Yes, he can. He is very serious when he tries to be funny.”—Brooklyn Life. Jones (reading)—The World’s Fair Browne (bitterly)—Don’t believe it. It hasn’t treated me that way.—New York Times. The fly that the spider wove a web for was not so very fly after all. He was curious about the weaving, and got taken in.—Picayune. The thoughtful man never mails a letter with a new Columbian stamp on it without wondering if it will go for two cents.-- Elmira Gazette. A Nomadic Race.—First floor— How many servants do you keep? High flat—None, but we have no end of ’em as casual visitors. —Puck.

First actor (in tragic whisper)— Are we quite alone? Second actor (glancing grimly at the small audience) —Almost.—New York Weekly. The active dog-catcher often catches it most severely when the woman who owns the dog catches him at his little game.—Swansea Gazette. Germany will now have a bigger standing army than ever. This is due to the lieichsrath not sitting down on the tax. Philadelphia Times. She —I can’t see any sense in calling them my sailing shoes. He— Well, I notice you make about twenty knots an hour to keep them tied.— Inter Ocean. The waiter (as Wigley started to leave) —How do you like my buttonhole bouquet, sir? Forget-me-nots, sir. Thank you, sir. Goood-morning. —Pick-Me-Up. Robbins—l’m Just back from Chicago. Dobbins—Really, old fellow, I’m sorry, but I’m so tied up financially that I can’t lend you a cent.— Philadelphia Record. Late revelers singing “There’s no place like home” always stop their melody just before they get there, apd creep upstairs in their stocking feet. —Boston Transcript. Although as a rule the girls are do admirers of stinginess, when the right fellow comes along few of the fair ones object to a certain degree of closeness.—Buffalo Courier.

Charley —So, Jim, you were extravagant enough to pay S2O a dozen for your handkerchiefs. Don’t you think that was a good deal of money to blow in?—Columbia Spectator. Irate but polite person (who has just taken away an umbrella from the social pest in front)—Permit me, sir, to return your umbrella; I found it In my eye.—World’s Fair Puck. “It was awfully clever of baby. He had never been told what flowers were, but the minute he saw them he said, ‘Bwobs!’ ” “But what does ‘Bwobs’mean?" “Flowers, of course." —Bazar. He—l often think —at least I sometimes wonder—l mean I wish I knew if you cared for me, don’t you know? She—Oh, but they’ve got a clairvoyant in the next town. Couldn’t you find out?—Boston Budget. • Sweet Girl Graduate —“ They won’t let me read a poem at the commencement exercises, but I got ahead of them just the same.” Her Friend —“How?” Sweet Girl Graduate—“l wore one. ” —Buffalo Courier. Little Dick —Papa, didn’t you tell mamma we must economize? Papa—l did, my son. Little Dick— Well, I was thinkin’ that mebby if you’d get me a pony I wouldn’t wear out so many shoes.—Good News.

When Animals Are Removed.

When animals or plants are removed from their peculiar and natural districts to one entirely different in climate some surprising changes take place. As soon as possible after such removal they change their character and habits so as to conform with their new homes, or else cease to exist. A good wool-bearing sheep transferred from some northern pasture to the topics changes his coat to a thin covering of straggling hairs scarcely resembling wool; the dog becomes destitute of hair altogether, and even bqes cease to lay up their stores of honey and in a great measure lose their industrious habits.— St. Louis Republic-