Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 November 1893 — Page 4

AW ANTIDOTE TO CARE. Hunk that the grass upon thy grave is green; Think that thou seest thine own empty chair; The empty garments thou wast wont to wear; He empty zoom where long thy haunt hath b en. Think that the lane, the meadow, and the , wood, And mountain summit feel thy feet no more, Not the load thoroughfare, nor sounding shore; All mere blank space where thou thyself hath stood. Amid this thought-created silence say To tby stripped soul, what a u I now. and where? Then turn and face the pottr, liar owing care Which has been gnawing thee for many a day, And it will d e as dies a wailiog breeze Lost in the solemn roar of bounding seas. —[James Suntham.

THE MUSICIAN'S STORY.

Yes, I don’t know but what the colonel is right; we see some very curious things in this profession of ours. lam often tempted to think that it would make a very interesting story if a reporter would some time simply write out an acoount of a single day’s experiences and tell all he sees without adding even a tinge of rornanoe. First of all the very variety of the life has a certain charm for the uninitiated, who have an idea that it must be delightful to be behind the scenes in everything, as they like to put it. As though it was always pleasant to see things stripped of all romance. Now, it is right there that I take issue with what the colonel has just said. It is not well to have everything laid bare. I would rather have some of the gilt left on my gingerbread. I want a little romance in mine. I would like to go all through life and have somo of the illusions of youth left when I get through; and here I am not yet thirty, not by several years, and the few ideals that I managed to bring with me through college have been escaping ever since so fast that I have hardly been able to see them go. That's why I am tempted to quit journalism—thanks, I mean the tfewspaper business, of course. Now I have a story to tell that illustrates the point I am making. Talking is not much in my line, however, and I have often thought I ought to write what I have to say. Still, if somebody will stand a mug of ale, I’ll tell it anyway. Thanks, Judge, here’s to you, and here goes. begin with, I suppose you boys All remember that fellow iiurrington who died a couple of weeks ago and had such a big funeral. The papers gave a good deal of space to it at the time, for his family amount to a good deal, even if he didn’t, peace to his ashes, he wss a pretty lively youth, and they do say that the way he made the paternal ducats fly was a caution to fathers, and I’ve no doubt he has furnished the text for many a sermon to wayward youth since he left us. He set a fast pace and every one knew he couldn’t keep it up long, but he had a good time while it lasted. The way I came to get onto his story was a very natural one. The day after he died our editor called me into his room and told me he wanted me to do the funeral and to give it a good write up, you know. “He never did anything particular,’’ remarked the man of the shears and paste pot, “but hia father was a friend of the governor's so I guess we can stand about alf a column if you can get it in early enough. The ceremony is at 2 o’clock. You can write your stuff up in the organ loft, nud if you have one of the boys come up there after your copy you ought to be able to get a good story down in time for second edition. There’s nothing on the book for you this evening, so you needn’t come back to the office.” * It was a great show, and I flatter myself that we had a fairly good account of it that afternoon. Pretty much all of the West End was there, and I could have filled a half column with the names of prom nent people in the congregation if 1 had wanted to. I was through my work and had my work on its way to the office long before the ceremony was over, but I stayed on because I watted to see just how far the minister would go in his remarks about the departed brother. De mortuis and the rest of it is all well enough, but I think they carry it too far sometimes. Then, jou know, up at that church they have an organist who can fairly make that big organ of his talk, and cry, too, when he feels that way; and I like nothing better than to sit up there in the loft when he is playing away so that he fairly forgets that there is auyone else in the church. After the congregation is all gone he sits there by the hour and plays to himself as though it was his only pleasure and solace in life.

He’s a queer old chap. I don't suppose he ever had much fun out of life, but somehow I like him, aud every time I am sent up there lo report the Bishop’s sermons, I make it a point to stay awhile afterward with my old friend. I could stay there for hours and hear him talk to me with his music. There is hardly ever anything lively or hopeful about it, but it touches me in some sensitive place, and makes me feel sure that there is some story in his life. If only one could get at it. It would make a good special, I know, and I am going to try to get it, sometime. He has no family, of that I am certain, but somehow he seems to take the, greatest interest in young people, and I’ve noticed that he , always played his best at weddings. He does not often talk much, but that day, after every one had gone I got him started by a-king him if he had known anything about the young man who was dead. At first he did not seem inclined to talk, but, finally, after be had been wandering over the keys for some time, Making music that was indefinitely sad, an if it were full of tender memories, he turned part way about on his stool and told me a story that I shall never forget. I do uot know whether it was true, but at any rate it was worth the hearing, for it taught me a lesson that -was worth the learning. It showed ine that there arc two ways at least of looking at the same thing; aud who can say which is the better way? There was som> thing very impressive in the scene to me. By the time he had finished the church was almost dark, and all the light there was came through the ■tained glass w indows and gave a melancholy tinge to it all. One ray from the aetting sun as it broke through the clouds fell fair upon the old man’s head and gilded his snow-white hair until he looked almost young again. The lines *a hia face seemed to fade away as he talked along in his low, sweet voice. For a rime I almost forgot the reality of the world outside and was lost in the eaihatiasin and fervor of the old muai uiaa'a story. I can give you a pretty good idea of what the old man said, for ft Made a diep impression on me at the

time; I thought then that I would write it up some time. But I haven’t. It would seem almost a sacrilege to treat his ideal any less earnestly than he did. I couldn’t write that sort of a story, anyway, but I’ll try to tell it to you just as he told it to me. * '* • * * • Yes. I can tell you his story, now that he is dead—poor boy—so full of life and hope and promise that it seems almost as though it could not be. I must have grown to love him more than I knew, for now that he is dead. I feel indeed that I have lost a friend. Yet I never knew him, never spoke to him. He was a young man, while my youth has gone so far into the past that it seems as thoughl never had been young. He was a man of the world, with many friends, and what am I but a poor, old tired-out musiciuu, living by adding what little I can to the pleasure of others? I have looked upon his face for the last time. He is dead, and they have carried him forth from this great church, where his friends were gathered together to show as best they could the love and respect they bore him. We heard the minister say those words of consolation and hope, old, yet ever new, “I am the resurrection and the life.” What more could he have said? Now all are gone and you and I are left alone up here, I with my thoughts and the memories of other years that come flooding over me. The light from those rioh-culored windows is already beginning to fade away and these evening shadows give an added gloom to this dreary place. Not one of all that crowd that was so lately here ever gave a thought to the old musician, and yet it seems to me that I knew him better <han any of them. I knewbis hopes and fears and I knew what the sorrow was that spoiled his life and made him glad to die. There was one other, but she learned it when it was too late.

I saw her, too, to-day. She was pale and sad-eyed and when the voice of the singer rang out rich and clear, hearing aloft the words of that sweet hymn of hope, “ And is this all ?” I felt somehow that she was weeping and that she knew it was not all. I remember so well the first time that I saw her. She was but a girl then, just growing into womanhood, and I was one of the musicians who played at the ball given in honor of her first appearance in society. Yes, she was what they call a society girl, but she looked to me like one who was able to lead and not to follow others. Well born, rich and beautiful, life must have looked very fair to her. I remember she was spoken of as the most successful debutante of the season. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, with dark hair and eyes that would start a man to improvising wild and noble music, with passionate and tender strains, but with here and there a jarring note, for there was something about her eyes that seemed out of place—a proud, ambitious look that did not become a young girl and that made her look older than she really was. She was that sort of woman that might inspire a man to noble deeds if she would, or else to wreck all beside rather than to lose her; whom a man might love, and, losing, die for. I knew that even though I was but a lonely old musician. I often wonder whether the people at rcceptious and balls in the great world ever give a thought to the musicians sitting off by themselves and playing for their pleasure. Do they ever realize for a moment that we see all that goes on about us and are the unseen audience of many a farce and comedy and tragedy. Many a ball room is the soene of events that may make or mar a life, and we musicians, left out of account and screened, perhaps, behind flowers and foliage, are often the olosest and most interested spectators. A queer life is this of ours, going from house to house, from reception to ballroom, playing our parts in scenes in which we really have no part. Yet we are always there. Dur ing the gay season we may see the same faces again and again, dny after day, night after night, until we get to know them well. New faces come, familiar faces disappear from our view, yet many’s the one we follow with interest. W e see people meeting for the first time. They talk idly for a while, dance together and, perhaps, never see one another again. Or the following winter we see them together everywhere we go and, seeing one, we know right well we will see the other not far away. One can tell a great deal if one only sees a person’s eye light up as if it sees a wished-for face appear. That may be all, or the friendship may ripen into more. So the world wags, and so it will oontinue to wag on long after my fingers have lost their cunning and grown stiff and cold.

How often have I played right merrily at a young girl’s first dance, and later on played her wedding match, or, perchance—and this is the saddest task of all—have played above her body music that she did not hear and that would have sounded weak and poor compared to the sweet strains she was perhaps already hearing Ah, me, what a deal an old man has seen; and yet that boy who is now in his last resting plaoe knows more of the great riddle of life and death than one can learn in a long life on earth. “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,” said the minister. But I am wandering from his story. It was in her second season that they met. From the first she had been what they cull a success. I could tell that even from my point of view. She was courted, sought after and admired. At every ball it seemed to me she held a little court. Men flocked to her side, and I heard it whispered that one or two had reason to wish that they had never met her. I did not like her as well as I did when I first knew her. I am old, and I may have been a little cynical, hut it seemed to me as though her face had loat some of its girlish franknesa. She bad been too popular and the reault was she was spoiled. He was very vontig, and a certain honest boyish look in his face made him look younger than he was. As you probably know yourself, he was better built for books and works than for the ways of society, but his pleasant manner and his sincori’y I sup|H>se must have made him hosts of friends.

And so they met. I remember it was during an in'erval between the dances. They were standing close to our corner when a mutual friend went through that curious formality that is necessary in a civilized society before any two of God s creatures may even recognize the fact of each other’s existence. They stayed together tor an hour and it was evideut they liked each other very well. That was but the first of many meetings. He was evidently fascinated and he never lost an opportunity of being with her. I do not tnink she was ever in earnest; perhaps she did not realize how far along they were drifting with the tide. At soy rate it was not long until it must have been clear to (be dullest onlooker that he had hat his heart to her; and he was the sort of man to win or lose everything. It may all be true enough that the world lovee a lover, but it’s <qu »l>y true that it baa but little sympathy and feel-

ing for a man who has given his all In love and has received nothing in return. No man dies of love nowadays, they say, and perhaps they did not die when I was young; they just lived on and tried to forget it. One night late in the same winter 1 saw them together at a great ball that was quite the event of the year. She was the gayest of the gay, and no one else was half so fair as she, with a great red rose almost buried in the wealth of her dark hair, and another on the breast of her white gown. I watched them with a closer attention than usual that night, but later on I missed them from the throng of dancers. They were gone some time, and then I saw them coming in from the grgat conservatory beyonai She had his arm, but they were not speaking, and there was a hard, strained look about his eyes that was infinitely sadder to me than tears. He slipped away later without being observed, and I saw him no more for many a day. So time passed on and they had well nigh gone from my thoughts, until one night, a couple of years later, this old church was brilliantly lighted and filled with all the wealth and fashion of the town. It was with a dull heart, however, that I sat up here and played the wedding march. Yes, you are right. It was her wedding night, and people called it a wonderfully fine match. She hud come home to marry a foreigner of rank and title she had met and won in some European, capital. It was a brilliant affair, and many a young girl no doubt that night envied her success. As I played the old familiar strains of the march, old, yet ever new for two young hearts if they but best in unison, I turned part way round and watched them coming down the aisle. They made a handsome pair, he in hi 9 gorgeous uniform with the jeweled decorations of his many orders pinned upon his breast, and she*-well, she was radiant, and she had that night a pioud and satisfied smile that added to her grace and beauty, if not to her womanly sweetness. Once I thought she gave a hasty glance up into the organ loft, and as she did so 1 saw her face grow strangely white and a look of pain come into her eyes. It was for a moment, however, and then it passed away as suddenly as it had come. I turned once more to my keyboard, and as I glanced around I caught a hasty glimpse of a young man’s figure and a sad, white face almost hidden away among the palms that filled the organ loft. I knew then, and anderstood it all.

Two years later she came back alone. I saw her one bright spring morning riding in the park. She was not in mourning, but she looked tired and worried abd anything but a happy woman. I imagine she had not found life much to her liking. Perhaps she had but herself to blame for it, but was she any the less to be pitied for that? She had done as many another young girl has done, and as they will continue to do through alt time. She bad but lived up to the teachings of her little world, nud had made about as much out of her life aa she had been taught to do. A butterfly would do but poorly in harness, you know. I saw him, too, not long ago—no, not her husband, but the other one. I heard that he had been off in the mountains in the far west, working hard in that open, free life that is so close to the heart of Mother Nature, and striving, I suppose, to forget. But there are some gh sts that will not be laid. To me tho fact that he had nursed a poor sheep herder through a long illness, and then had fallen ill himself and had been vainly knocking at death’s door for weeks, did not altogether account for his pitiable condition. It may have done so with the rest, but it is my opinion that he did not care very much to live. And so I was not much surprised last night when the old sexton came to me and told me that my services would be needed at the church to-day. She, too, was here, and I saw her, off in u dark corner of the church, where no one could have noticed that solitary figure, clad all in black and at times shaken by her silent emotion. Upon the black covering of the box above the young man’s breast, I noticed two great blood-red roses

You say that I played with unusual feeling to-day? Ah, but I was trying in my owji poor way to bring comfort to one saddened heart aud to tell to the two that I knew and had pity. When she came down the aisle just now. after all the rest had left, I saw that she wore two red roses on her breast. I think, perhaps, he knows now and is happy. * * * * * And that, boys, is tbe old musician’s story, just as he told it to me. You can have it for what it is worth. At auy rate, it throws a new light on that young fellow’s life, and who caa say but what be was right ? At least be saw the better side, worse luck to me.- [Washington Star.

The Wealth of the World.

Few people, even among professed politicians, have much idea of the wealth of the world, or of the manner in which that wealth is growing. Still fewer have any notion of the potentiality of wealth to increase. M. Jannet quotes the elaborate calculation of an ingenious author to show that IOOf., accumulating at five per cent, compound interest for seven centuries, would be sufficient to buy the whole surfuce of the globe, both land and water, at the rate of f 1.000.000 f. (£40,000) the hectare. The actual growth of riches has not hitherto assumed such iuconvenient proportions. M. Jannet cites various authorities to show- that the wealth of the United Kingdom exceeds £1(1.000,000,000; that of France, £8,000,000,000; that of all Europe, £40,000.000,000; that of the United States, £14,000,000,000. If we plaoe the w ealth of the rest of the world at £26,000,000,000, we shall arrive at an aggregate of £80,000,0' KJ.OOO. We should have, we may add, to multiply this vast sum 30,000 times before we reached the total to whioh, according te M. Jannet’s ingenious authority, 106 f., accumulating at 5 per cent compound interest for 700 years, would grow. The figures we have given are so vast that they convey no appreciable idea to the ordinary reader. It may assist the apprehension if it he added that France, on an average, possesses more than £.OO, the United Kingdom more than £250 for each member of the population. Just 200 years ago Sir W. Petty estimated the entire wealth of England only £2--0,-000 000. Two centuries, therefore, have increased it furtyfold. But the chief additions to it have been made in the last fifty years, and we believe that we are not far wrong in saying that the ►urn which is annually added to the capital of the United Kingdom amounts to £2OO 000.000, or, in other words, is nearly equal to its entire wealth at the time of the revolution of 1688.—(Edinburgh Review. It is only the women who can lawfully hold up a train.—(New York Jour nab

SOMEWHAT STRANGE.

ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OP kyeryday LIFE. Queer Facts and Thrilling Adventures Which Show That Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction. During the last Paraguayan War it was noticed that the men who had been without salt for three months, and who had been wounded, however slight, died of their wounds because they would heal. Tub Maharajah of Mysore has decided 1 , if possible, to put an end to marriages between children, or rather infants of his kingdom. He issued an edict recently forbidding girls under eight years and boys under fourteen to marry. In the future no man aged fifty or more dare wed a girl under fourteen. The edict has aroused much opposition in Mysore, but the ruler is said to be an energetic man and capable of executing regulations which he is pleased to promulgate. As extraordinary occurrence is reported from near Galashiels, Scotland. A boy named Brookie, the son of a shepherd at Buckholm, was out with the sheep, when he was bitten on the finger by an adder, lie became alarmed lest the bite should prove fatal, and resolved .to cut the finger off dose to the palm. This he attempted to do with his pocket knife, but as it would not cut through the bone he cut it away at the first joint. He then went to the nearest farmhouse, whence he was driven to Galashiels. Here a doctor amputated the remainder of the finger. Gkouge ANDEBSoxand William Hunt, farmers, who lived near Corning, Mo., were engaged in boring a well when their drill struck a rock and broke short off. It was necessary for someone to go down into tho well to dislodge the drill, and Anderson went. After he had reaohed the bottom, 160 feet deep. Hunt looked over the edge to see what he was doing, and by some misfortune missed his footing and tumbled headlong into the shaft. His head collided with that of Anderson and the skulls of both were crushed, killing them instantly. The Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts is to decide whether a creditor who invades a debtor’s bedroom and wakes him up early in the morning in order to present his bill is guilty of an assaytt. The aggravating party in the dispute is a milkman and the aggrieved person is his customer, who sajs that he forbade the milkman to invade his privacy, and was awakened by being shaken by the shoulder when suffering from a severe headache. The lower court entered judgment for the milkman, and the plaintiff appealed to the full bench of the Supreme Court. Sbveral wild turkeys that had a love for swallowing shining particles that had been shot by a burner on oue of the branches near San Diego, Tex., netted him quite a sum in gold, which he found in their craws, which they had picked up. In South Africa ostriches have been successfully employed in finding gold deposits. A drove of the birds are turned loose to feed in the territory where the precious metal is supposed to exist. They are then given an emetic and the ejecta carefully examined for nuggets, and if any are found the trail of the bird is followed until the diggings are discovered.

The full-rigged ship, the Harry Williams, met with a peculiar accident while parsing uuder the Brooklyn bridge recently. A sailor was at work near the top of the mainmast as the ship approached the structure. The mainmast was unusually high, and as the ship swept down the river a carpenter at work on the bridge yelled to the sailor, who slid down just in time to save himself. The foremast passed under safely, but tlic top of the mainmast struck the bridge and about six feet of the stiok was snapped off. It was said at the bridge entrance tiiat this was the first accident of the kind recorded since the bridge was erected. Lawyer Bunker, of Ellsworth, Me., recently had au unpremeditated contest with an angry bull on the Hancock county fair grounds at that place. He seized the angry beast by the horns, aQd, alter an exciting tussle, actually succeeded in downing the bull. Since then the young . farmers of the couuty have been practising at this hazardous wrestling, and most ' any average-sized man will now boast of his ability to upset any hull in the county. Competitive challenges have been the natural outcome, aud Bucksport has just issued a defiance to Ellsworth to match its star against any “rarsler” (wrestler) in the latter place, “horns holt, best two out of thee bulls.” Probably few men have had a more thrilling fifteen seconds or so than had the driver of a heavy load of giant powder in Oregon a few days ago. He was piloting a four-horse team drawing a wagon containing 3,0 )0 pounds of giant powder over a rough road into Tillamook. A rickety bridge spanning a nurrow ravine gave way under the load and the whole outfit was dumped down into the dry bed of the creek. There was no explosion, and the driver, horses, wagon and powder were hauled out all right. The driver has not recorded his sensations as he felt the bridge giving way and during the few seconds between then and the time the load landed safely again.

“ It was decidedly a grim ornament,” said u society young man in the New York Sun, “that I saw recently at the house of a well-known civil engineer whose career had some time been in the Rocky Mountains. It waa a necklace composed of the finger nails of a youug Sioux brave slain by a Ute warrior, who, with the scalp of bis victim, had taken this trophy of his prowess. Strange to say, this Dccklace was instrinsically very handsome. The characteristic flhapeliness of the Indian’s arm and hand, ideally perfect even to the finger tips, was illustrated in this barbarous memento. The necklace of ten pieces was in color a viial brown, suggesting more than anything elae a string of acorns. So removed in appearance was it from any forbidding suggestions of the savage deed it recorded that the genuinely gentle and refined woman to whom it was shown handled it lo giogly, and begged of the owner that if he ever gave it away it should be to her.” TnE Newcastle (England) Journal reports apathetic story of a dog, given in evidence before the Gateshead magistrates. A man over eighty, charged with keeping a dog without a license, did not appear, but the chief constable informed the Bench “that the old man had been at the court iu a terrible state of distieas,” aud that he lived with hie wife in a condition of abject poverty. On inquiries made, it appeared that the dog mus. be destroyed if the aummoai -vas pressed, as the old couple had no to pay for a license, but that the wife begged for the dog’s life because it

had morn than once saved her from being burned to death. She had fallen into the lire in a fit, and “ the dog had seized her, dragged her from the flames, and burying his nose in her lighted clothes, had extinguished the fire. To prove the truth of the woman’s statement, the obief constable got some old newspapers and set fire to them, this being done in the presence of other constables. On each occasion the newspaper was lighted in the middle of the floor. The dog rushed at it and extinguished the flame.” The magistrates, of couse, subscribed to pay for what the local reporter, with pardonable effusiveness, calls the “noble creature’s license.” It is a pity that the dog’s breed, or, at any rate, size and looks arc not mentioned. Mil. Mattox, of Mississippi, was housing his hens. The night was somewhat cloudy. He had visited his barns and was on the point of returning to his house when all at once he heard a peculiar hissing sound overhead, and at the same instant a luminous glow fell all around him, as if the moon had suddenly emerged from behind a cloud, chronicles the Chicago Post. He looked up and was almost paralyzed at the sight of a brilliant, fiery globe descending through the air with the speed of lighting, and shooting a comet-like tail far up into the heavens. So rapid was the descent that it was only visible for a second, but in that brief space, he says, he suffered an eternity of unspeakable terror. The fire ball struck the earth with a dull report, scarcely 300 yards from where he stood. It was Rome minutes before he could recover the use of his limbs, when, running hastily to his house, he aroused tho family and several laborers about th& place, telling them a comet had struck the earth, and they had only a few minutes to pray. In a short time the whole plantation was up and women and children were heard orying and supplicating heaven for mercy. They could not get closer than about thirty yards on account of the heat and noxious fumes of sulphur and gas which the stone emitted. The stone sizzled and steamed and shot out jets of steam or vapor from a thousand pores. By daylight it showed up a dull, dingy biuck, and was full of pores, which still •hot out jets of vapor of an offensive smell which almost stifled. The stone is evidently imbedded in the ground for some distance, and shows only about a foot above the surface. Mr. Mattox estimates it to be about the size of a hogshead.

A difficult mechanical feat just accomplished at Porta Costa, Cal., is described substantially as follows by eye-witnesses: On August 10, a locomotive went through the big ferry-boat and plunged pilot first into the waters of Carquinez Straits, the tender and cars remaining on the ferry-boat. The water was deep enough to cover the cab, but not enough to let the boat out of the slip. The locomotive stood practically vertical and its nose was deep in the mud. On the night of the 15th a large pair of shears made of 12x12-inch timbers crossed at the top was built up on the end of the boat and some large pulleys hung where the pulleys crossed. Tnen a diver spent several hours in fastening a numter of cables on either side of the frame under the boiler. Four engines were attached to the ropes, but could not start the locomotive, although the strain was so great that a cable nearly three inches in diameter was broken. Finding the appliances of insufficiiut strength, the shears were doubled in size, and a fifth engine taken on board. Ou the 17th anpther trial was made. It was hard to get the engines to pull exactly together, and, as their wheels would slip and revolve, the cables would snap and the tackle generally would be badly strained. Finally a simultaneous pull started the mass, and the cab slowly appeared above the water and the engine was gradually lifted until somewhat higher than the floor of the ferry-boat. Tackle from a steam dredger stationed in the front of the slip was then attached to the forward end of the locomotive, which was pulled out in this way. The shears were then swung slowly backwarij over the deck of the ferry-boat and the engine gradually lowered to the tracks it had left. When it was hauled to the neighboring roundhouse and the mud washed off it was found that but little damage had been done beyond the splintering of the cab by the cables.

The Spanish Onion.

The largo and handsome Spanish oDions, which have been coming to this city in increasing quantities for the past half-dozen years, are now cheaper than they have ever been known heie. These vegetables are grown mainly near Valencia, in Spuin, and the first shipments this year, which came by the way of England, were harvested too early and were therefore watery. Being liable to quick decay, they were hurried upon the market and sold for low 'prices. The first direct importation was also otf-grade in quality, uud this set the price for the season very low, so that in many auction sales the price has baiely covered the freight and duty, to say nothing of the commissions and cost of packing. The duty of 40 cents on a bushel of fifty-six pounds, together with the lreight, commission, and cost abroad, brings the actual value to the importer about 80 cents a crate laid dowu, and, therefore, when prices range from 55 cents to $1 u crate, the trade has bten a disastrous one. Together with what has already arrived and what is exacted, the imports this year will amouut to 150.000 ciates or about 87 500 bushels. Attempts to raise this Spanish onion in California and other parts of the country from seed purchased in Spaiu have generally proved unsuccessful, a* the vegetables when grown htrrt do not differ much from the ordinary domestic onion, it seems that a Castiliau climate and soil are necessary for thii production of this delightful product. For this reason, and also because there bulbs do not come into conflict with home vegetables, a strong effort is now on foot to have the duty decreased to a more reasonable rate.—[Garden and I'orctt.

Education Criminal

The Russian Government forbids anv one possessed of a superior education occupying any post which brings him into direct communication with the people. During a certain period. when the Russian revolutionary party reckoned upon a mass rising of the peasantry and wished to hasten this rising by piopaganda, several young people having spent from four to five years in the higher studies, left the universities without passing the final exams or taking their diplomas, in order not to be considered as having more than an average education, and so being enabled to obtain employment in the vi.lages. This ‘•fraud,” which consisted in renouncing not only a ! l hopes of a professional career, but also the pleasures of living in a cultured and intelligent society or eujoyiDg good books, etc., constitutes in the eyes oi‘ the police a strong aggrivation of the ‘crimes’’ discovered or even inspected |Ths Idler.

THE JOKERS’ BUDGET.

JESTS AND YARNS BY RUNNY MEN OP THE PRESS. Compensation—The Critic Rebuked— Against Her Will—A Parallel Case— Etc., Etc. COMP ’CNBATIOX. If at first you don’t succeed, Try, try again, For perseverance overoomes All things of mortal ken; And if you do not get the girl You want or think you do, You ’re safe in betting you will get The girl that’s wanting you. —[Detroit Free Press. AGAINST HER WILL. Mother—ls that young man kissed you against your will, why didn’t you call me? Daughter—He—he held me so tightly in his arms I couldn’t call. “Why didn’t you call after he let you go?” “Oh, there wasn't anything to call for then.”—[Good News. A PARALLEL CASE. “Do you mean to say, grocer, that you are going to charge me for the few crackers and raisins that my boy eats while you are taking my orders?” “Well, I’ll be fair, ma’am. If when you goes to a book shop to buy a set o’ novels the bookseller don’t charge you for the picture-books your boy hooks, I won’t charge neither. I can’t say no more than that.”—[Harper’s Bazaar. A SAHARA JOKE. He had been out on the sandy wastes of the west and had returned safely. “How is it out there?” inquired a friend. He shook his head dubiously. “Where did you stop?” “At a hotel.” “How did they feed you?” “They gave us corn beef, cabbage and scenery.” “Scenery?” “Yes.” “You couldn’t cat that?” “Oh, yes, it was dessert, you know,” and he laughed an alkali sort of a laugh with a white crust on it.—[Detroit Free Press. THE CRITIC REBUKED. “Isn’t there something the matter with the feet in this poem ?” asked the editor. “Sir.” replied the haughty man, who stood bv his desk, “I am a poet; not a chiropodist.”—[Washington Star. Alt AVERAGE BOY. Father—Little Johnny appears to be hard at work out in the yard. What is he doing? Mother —I don’t know, but if 'he is working hard, it is play.—[Good News. SCIENCE AND APPETITE. The old gentleman who takes an interest in natural history was very happy. “Congratulate me! Congratulate me!” he exclaimed. "What for?” asked his nephew. “I have just discovered a rare bird.” “Oh,” replied the young man as he turned back to his book, “you’ll get used to that after you’ve been here awhile.” “Do you mean to say that such discoveries are frequent?” “Yes. Almost any restaurant will cook ’em that way, unless you tell ’emj not to.”—[Washington Star. WITH VERDURE CLAD. Miss Heigho—You sectn very contented, Mr. Rapport. We’ve been on this wooded island two hours in unbroken silence. Can’t you promulge something in the nature of a remark? Mr. Rapport—Oh, I beg pardon, to be sure! It’s a charming spot, exclusively verdant and delightfully rural. Miss Heigho—Then, I ought not to wonder that you feel so thoroughly at home.—[Truth.

THE CAPTAIN'S INDIGNATION. Scene on the deck of a mail steamer at sea. Passenger (toOld Salt,) —Can you tell me, my good man, the name of that fine bird hovering about? Old Salt —That’s a halbatross, sir. /E. P. —Dear me, quite a rara avis, is it not? O. S. —Dunno, sir. I’ve always heerd it called a halbatross. JE. P. —Yes, yes, my good fellow, but I call that a rara avis, just as I call you a genus homo. O. S. (indignantly)—Oh, do you! Then I calls that a halbatross just the same as I calls vou a blooming humbug. —[Tit-Bits. SHE WAS BOUND TO SAVE IT. It was the highly cultivated girl’s first effort at baking. ‘•Dear me!’’ she said; “there must be something wrong with that loaf of bread.” “I think,” replied her mother gently, “that you had better throw it away.” “Throw away the first bread I ever baked?” “Yes; most of us have to, you know.” “Never! I know what I’ll do. I’ll put some cuneiform inscriptions on it and send it to the seminary museum.”— [Washington Star. lIE TOED TnE MARK. Madeline —Did he make amende for stealing that kiss? Olga—Yes; he was very manly and would not stop till he had made complete restitution.—[Truth THOSE OFF-HAND EFFORTS. “I hear Bronson’s impromptu speech at the banquet last night wasn’t a success. What was the matter?” “He’d forgotten to bring the manuscript.” A SACRIFICE. My. Sourly—l’m going to have my picture taken to day. Mr. Sourly’s Wife—You will have to make a great sacrifice if you do. Mr, S.-Wby? Mr. S.’s W.—You’ll have to look pleasant for a moment or two. —[New York Pres*. IN THE FALL. In the fall a fuller smokehouse rises on the farmer’s land; In the fall the colored fiddler fiddles to the dancing band; In the fall a livelier sunset gives the fall ing leaf its hue; In the tall a young man’s fancy sadly turns to bank n 'tes due. •-[Atlanta Constitution. GIRL FRIENDS. Miss Sea re—See what Mr. Chap ley gave me—a pretty French nailing glass. Miss Sharpe—How nice! I must get one just like it for grandmamma.— [Truth.

ANOTHER STOBT. Mrs. Billiger—Why couldn’t you have seen my hat was on crooked before we left the house? Billiger—Love is blind. Mr*. Billiger—Mr. Billiger, I ask you a civil question and I wish you’d answer it.—[Detroit Tribune. SHE LEARNED. She knew not how to cook, she said. In accents far from gay; But afterward, when they were wed, She roasted him each day. A TEAR AFTER. Mr. Benedict—l met Howard to-day. He was surprised to know we are married. Says you told him once you wouldu’t marry the best man living. Mrs. Benedict—Well, the fact is, I did. Mr. Benedict—ls that so? llow did you come to ohange your mind? Mrs. Benedict —Well, the sac- is, I didn’t.—[Puck. WITH SLIGHT VARIATIONS. The man who talked of summer heat Indignantly, of old. The same remarks will soon repeat Concerning winter’s cold. —[Washington Star. MUST BE GOOD. Customer—ls this good soap? Dealer—Well, mum, the man who writes poetry about that soap gets $lO,000 a year. Customer—My sakes 1 Gimme a dozen bars.—[New York Weekly. ODDS AND ENDS. Barber—Do you want a haircut? Victim—Not only one, but all of them.— [Judge. Solemn Stranger—All flesh ia grass. Deaf Man—Hey? Solemn Stranger—No; grass.—[New York Press. He—lt makes me a better man every time I kiss you, darling. She—Oh, my, Charlie! How good you must be now. —[Brooklyn Life. “You say he’s unpopular.” “Unpopular! He is so unpopular that when lie has a cold nobody offers biui a remedy for it.”—[Detroit Free Pres*. Citizen—Do you have much trouble arresting tramps? Policeman—Oh, no; no matter how strong a tramp is he will never resist a rest.—[Yonkers Statesman. Witherby Didn’t your new cook leave rather suddenly? Plankerton Ye*. She got mixed in her dates. She had a policeman and a burglar call ou her the same evening.—[Life. Les Fiances. —She—Aodatc you *ure you will like married life as well as you do your club? He—Oh, yes. She— And are you so awfully fond of your club? He—Not very.—[Life’s Calendar. Miss Kecdick—Mr. Gilley actually offered himself to Miss Darley on a postal card. Miss Gasket—What did she do? Miss Keedick—Refused him. She said she preferred sealed proposals. —[Detroit Free Press. That a woman has no idea of distance is known by every husbandT who has heard his wife boast how far she makes her dollars go.— [Atchison Globe. “I hear your husband has gone into art for a fad?” “Yes,” repued Mrs. Lardly. “Tom says he’s going to have a collection of pictures even if he has to paint them himself.”—[Harper’s Bazar. It is a distinct advance for a man to acquire the ability to say, on occasion, “I can’t afford it;” but het ought to say it just as often to himself as he says it to his wife.—[Boston Globe.

Balloons for War.

Mr. Samuel A. KiDg, the aeronaut, who had so narrow an escape front drowning in Lake Michigan recently, has for a long time turned his knowledge to the use of aeronautics in the science of war. During the threatened hostilities with Chili, he tendered his services to ex-Secretary Tracy, of the navy, for a balloon service, In which compressed hydrogen was to be used as the inflating gas. His system included a group of ■even balloons, the car being a metal boat built in sections; each of which was to be air-tight. For observation purposes the group was to be what is known us.captive and telephonic communication established with the flagship of the fleet, The casks of compresst-d hydrogen were to be stored on the metal boat and used when necessary for further inflation. The professor has an autograph letter from ex-Secretary Tracy, in which his system is highly commended. The professor said that from an altitude of 6,000 feet he could make observations over the area of aoircle whose radius is 100 miles. If it was deemed necessary to use the group for offensive purposes, jt could be made a most destructive agency. Whdb the winds were favorable it could hover over an enemy’s fleet, fortifications or city, and by dropping bombs loaded with dynamite or other explosive material, prove an ugly customer. During the laie imbroglio with Great Britain mrardiDg the Bering Sea, King visited Washington and tendered his ideas to Secretary Herbert. He was to establish a signal service on eifch of the great lake 3. It was aocepted contingently upon the event of hostilities being declared. — [Boston Transcript.

RELIABLE RECIPES.

A Good Batter. —A good batter for frying meat, oysters, etc., instead of eggs And crumbs, is made in the following way: Three-quarters of a pound of sifted flour mixed with two ounces ot butter melted in warm water. Mnke a soft paste, beat it smooth till the batter is thick enough to mask the back of a spoon dipped into it, and salt to taste. Add the last thing the whites of two eggs well beaten. Roast Duck with Dressing. —Choose two large and fat ducks; singe and draw carefully; save and pare the livers, chop them fine, fry a little with a small pit-oc of butter and a tablespoonful of chopped shallots; mix with four ounces of steeped and pressed white-of-bread, two ounces of butter, two egg-yolks, salt, pepper and chopped paisley; put this iq the ducks, secure both ends, truss nioely, and roast about forty minutes; untie and dish up the ducks; add a little broth to the drippings, strain over tbe ducks and servq.—|Deliee. Boiled Leg of Mutton, Caper Sauce. —Procure a fat, tender, six-pound leg of mutton; paie, boil steadily lor an hour and a half in plenty of slightly* salted water; drain with a skimmer (t>e careful not to pierce the surface with a fork or anything sharp, as all the juice in that case would certainly be wasted); thicken about a quart of the broth with an eunce and a half of flour kneaded with hutrer; add salt pepper and a few drops of vinegar and press through a napkin; dish up the mntton, pare and ornament the handlc-b'>ne with a fancifully cut white paper cuff ; pour some of tbe sauce ever and the rest in a sauce bowl and serve with some espers in a separate plate.