Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 April 1895 — Page 4

O WIND THAT BLOWS OUT f . OF THE WEST. O wind that blows oat of the West, That hast swept over mountain and sea, Dost then bear on thy swift, glad wings The breath of my love to me ? Hast thou kissed her warm, sweet lips? Or tangled her soft, brown hair? Or fluttered the fragrant heart Of the rose she loves to wear? O sun that goes down in the West, Hast thou seen my love to-day, Aa she sits in her beautiful prime Under skies so far away? Hast thou gilded a path for her feet, Or deepened the glow on her cheeks, Or bent from the skies to hear The low, sweet words she speaks? O stars that are bright in the West, When the hush of the night is deep, Do you see my love as she lies Like a chaste, white flower, asleep? Does she smile as she walks with me In the light of a happy dream, While the night winds rustle the leaves, And the light waves ripple and gleam? O birds that fly out of the West, Do you bring me a message from her, As sweet as your love notes are, When the warm spring breezes stir? Did she whisper a word to me As your tremulous wings sweep by. Or utter my name, mayhap. In a single passionate cry? O voices out of the West, Ye are silent every one. And never an answer comes From wind or stars or sun! And the blithe birds come and go Through the boundless fields of space, As reckless of human prayers As if earth were a desert place I —f Julia C. R. Dorr.

Brother and Sister.

“Marry you! No, you goose. Do get up off your knees and not strike such sanctimonious attitudes.’’ And the girl burst into a peal of laughter, but suddenly checking herself, said: — “There, Al, I do not mean to hurt your feelings, but you draw such long faces! I like you very well as a friend, but cannot love you. Please don’t think me a flirt, for I don’t mean to be, and I had no notion you cared for me. Can’t we be friends?’’ Here the young girl offered tier hand, which Al took, and then hastily picking up his hat left the room. “O, dear!” Dotsighed, lookingout of the window after the retreating form. “Now he is angry with me. Why can’t I have a friend without his falling in love with me? That is the third or fourth offer I’ve had within a few weeks, and all from boys that I’ve known ever since I was a baby. Seems to me since I returned from school every one seems possessed. If they would onlj' treat inelike a sister I should like it much better. How nice it would be to have a brother! But here comes cousin Will. He is a dear, good soul, and the only one I take any comfort with. I’ll go and see if his friend came.” In the next room there is but one occupant, a young man, who seems convulsed with laughter “Well,” says Harry Percival, for that is his name, “she made quick work of it. Proposals made and rejected in five minutes. Wants a brother, does she? I’ve a good mind to apply for the vacancy. Wonder what she would say. By Jove, I’ll try it. There comes Will, now.” “Hi, Harry!” said Will, bursting rather unceremoniously into theroom. “All ready? Supper is, so we’ll go right down. Here, Dot,” he continued, as they met that young lady at the head of the stairs, “allow me to make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. Percival Harry, my cousin, Miss Dora Andrews.” Supper is over, and Dot sitting on the piazzi in the hammock when Mr. Percival and Will appear at the door. “You look too comfortable to be disturbed, Dora,” Will says. “Nevertheless, I see some friends of yours coming down the road, bent on dragging you on some moonlight excursion or other.” ’‘l shall play martyr with very good grace, Will. It is a lovely evening, and nothing would suit me better than a boat ride. Of course, you and Mr. Percival will go?” “I see I’m booked,” Will laughingly answered, “for there’s Perry Hunter and his sister, Frank Willis and sister, 1 Ellis Munro and two sisters. Now, as each of those fellows are escorting another fellow’s sister, I suppose, the extra Miss Munro is for my benefit.” “Then I hope,” says Mr. Percival, “you will allow me the pleasure of being your escort, Miss Andrews. I never had a sister. We shall be under the same roof all summer, and I assure you I will prove an exemplary brother. May I call you sister, Dora?” "Certainly,” Dot answered. But somehow the arrangement did not please her much. “If you will excuse me a moment I will go up stairs and get my shawl, and be ready by the time they reach the house.” The merry pa ty enjoyed a pleasant sail,, and before parting agreed to have a picnic the following week at a grove five miles distant. Before the week had ended, Harry and Dora had become better acquainted, and he had taken on himself the office of mentor, as well as brother. The evening before the picnic Frank Willis called to take Dot to ride. She went up stairs to get her wrap. Coming down she met Harry Percival on the stairs. “Where are you bound, sister mine?” he asked.i . “Out to ride,” she answered. “It is such an elegant evening.” “Don't.you think your adjective misapplied ?” he rejoined, coolly. “Elegant refers to polished or polite ” “Haven’t you mistaken your vocation? Instead of a gentleman you should have been a critic.” “The two cart be combined,” he answered, quietly. “I don't think you ought to go to ride this evening, sister.' You will be too tired to enjoy the picnic to-morrow; besides the air is damp.” “Allow me to pass, please; I o keeping Mr. Willis waiting.

“Sister, indeed,” she muttered when she reached the piazza. “Any one would think I was in leading strings. I’d go if I caught my death.” Dora did not enjoy her ride as she expected, and the air was damp; nevertheless she kept up such a chatter of small talk that Mr. Willis, who had long been one of her admirers, thought her one of the liveliest girls he had ever met, “ Good night,” she said, when they had reached her home. “I will keep that promised seat at the table for you. ” Just then Dora heard one of the upper windows shut, Upstairs Mr. Percival was muttering to himself—“ Not if I know it shall he have the seat next to her at the table.” The next morning daw’ned bright and clear. The picnic party was all in good spirits, the baskets well filled, and everything promised well. Harry found pleasant sets for himself and Dora, and then went to help one lof the ladies carve some refractory 'fowl. On his return he found his I place occupied by Mr. Willis. “You won't mind sitting over here.” Dora said sweetly, pointing to a vacant place opposite. “I promsed this seat to Mr. Willis last night, and of course you don’t care to sit here, as we are brother and sister, and see each other every day.” “ Certainly not, sister mine.” Harry answered, biting his lip. Then he muttered to himself as he moved away, “ Caught in my own trap, but I’ll pay her off.” After dinner a party was formed to go further into the wood in search of berries. Mr. Percival asked Dora to accompany the party, and they were proceeding in a most amicable manner, notwitstanding their little scene at the dinner table. At last they reached an opening in the wood and all sat down to rest, Dora declaring she could walk no further. “I am so sorry,” said Annie Hunter, “for I had set my heart on going to the haunted oak, as it is called. It is not very much further.” “I will go with you,” Mr. Percival volunteered. “What will Dora say.” “She won’t care,” Harrj' said, before Dora could reply. “We are brother and sister and understand each other perfectly. Come, Miss Hunter.”

Dora was fiercely gay all the way back to the grove, and devoted herself entirely to Mr. Willis. Mr. Percival and Dot were again together alone. “Well,” Dot commenced, “we’ve had a splendid time. I don’t remember ever enjoying myself so much at a picnic. Mr. Willis is so entertaining. I hope he and his sister will stay all summer.” “I am afraid, sister Dora, that it will not be best for his peace of mind, unless he is merely flirting, as well as yourself. By his manner I should judge him, to be in earnest. Beware, little one, how you trifle with such a heart.” “Quite a little homily,” flashed Dorn. “You would be quite successful as a preacher. But how long since have you constituted yourself Mr. Willis’ keeper, as w’ell as my men tor?” “ Pardon me,” he said. “I do not intend to anger you. Here we are at the house. lam going to the city on business in the morning, and shall not be back for a week. Let’s make up, as all good brothers and sisters should. ” So saying, he stooped and pressed a kiss on Dora’s lips. “ How dare you?” she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming; “ this farce has gone altogether too far. Don't you ever address that odious title to me again. You shall not call me sister. ” And bursting into tears Dora broke away from him and gained her own room. “I shall be glad when that odious creature is gone,” she sighed. “What makes him tease me so. I suppose he thinks I am a simple little country girl. I verily believe I should hate him if he stayed much longer. Oh, dear, I wish I could hate him.” * * * All that week Dora roamed listlessly round the house or wandered down to the river bank, with a book in her hand, but very little reading was done. Mr. Willis called several times to take her to ride, but after accepting the invitation once she declined to go again. In Harry Percival’s office in town that gentleman does not look very busy except in the wear of shoe leather, for he is striding up and down the room, with his hands in his pockets, as if walking for a wager. “By Jove,” he mutters, “I must settle this matter soon or I shall be in a mad house. A decided ‘No’ will be preferable to uncertainty. I suppose she prefers that fellow Willis, but it will be better to know my answer from her own lips. I expect she hates me, but somehow I don’t understand women, and perhaps she does like me. Anyway, I’ll go down this afternoon and liear my fate.” About five o’clock Mrs. Hatnmond was surprised by the arrival of Mr. Percival. “I am so glad you have come back,” the good ladj' said. “The house is so lonely. Will has gone to town to get me some groceries, but Dora is somewhere around the place. Shall I go out and call her or will you go to your room and reSt?” “No, I thank you, Mrs. Hammond, I will take a little stroll, the fresh air will rest me after the city dust. I may meet Miss Andrews.” “She took her book to read, so I guess you’ll find her down by the river.” Coming to the water's edge he lifted his hat a moment to let the cool breeze fan his ‘forehead when suddenly he saw the gleam of a white dress, and knew he had found her. Dot was sitting under an overhanging rock, her book lying on the grass amd her face buried in her hands. “•Pardon my intrusion,” Harry said, laying his hand on her shoulder, “hut mayn't ! team fort you?” Dora shook his hand from her shoulder amd sprang to her feet with a startled look. “Oh, Mr. Percival,” she -exclaimed, “yea tftrightemed rmeil”

“Am I then so repugnant to you that you cannot bear that I should touch you? And I love you so, Dora. In what way have I offended you so deeply?” “Never mind,” he continued, “l will not trouble you, but I will go away, for I cannot bear to see you happy with another. Will you say goodbye,” and Harry stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. Dora looked up and the gladness sparkling in her eyes cleared the cloud from her face. “Don’t go, Harry,” she said, and he clasped her in his arms, hardly able to realize the sudden change to happiness “Then you do love me, Dora?” “Yes; a little, brother mine,” the saucy girl answered. But her mouth was closed by a kiss, and Dot declares she shall surely drop the title if that is to be the penalty for using it.—[Boston Globe.

HOW TO KEEP WARM.

An Easy Method Described by a Doctor. “ I should like to call attention to an easy method of warming one’s ■ self when other and more common means are not available,” writes Dr. |E. B Sangree in the American. Therapist. “It is a method that I suppose is well enough known to the I profession, but probably not often ; used. I allude to warming the body by merely taking deep inspirations. “On one very cold afternoon of j last winter, though walking briskly along, I was uncomfortably cold; I feet and hands were very cold, and j my ears so chilled as frequently to ; require the application of my heavily gloved hands. In addition,the whole surface of the skin was unpleasantly I chilled; ‘creeps’ ever and anon runi ning up and down my spinal column ' and radiating thence over the body and extremities; in short, a condiI tion that every reader of this little j article has doubtless many a time experienced. I then began taking an exercise often employed before with benefit: deep forced inspirations, holding the air as long as possible before expulsion. * After a few inhalations the surface of my body grew warmer, and a general sense of comfort pervaded me. Continuing, the next to feel the effects of the effort were my previously frigid ears. They grew agreeably warm, and within the time required to walk three blocks, at the previous pace, hands and feet partook of the general warmth, and I felt as comfortable as if the same length of time had been passed by a glowing fire. The happy results obtained from this simple method are probably owing to several causes: The cold, of course, chills the surface of the body and contracts the superficial blood vessels, usually affecting first hands, feetandears, and afterward the general body surface. Contraction of the blood vessels results both in less blood to the part and in stagnation of the current, thus rendering the tissues still less able to resist the cold. Deep forced inspirations not only stimulated the blood current by direct muscular exertion, but also by compressing and expanding the lungs the flow of blood is greatly hastened through this organ, and on account of the increased amount of oxygen inhaled, this abundant supply of blood is thoroughly oxygenated, tissue metabolism is increased and more heat necessarily produced. Many times unavoidable exposure, as in riding, driving, standing and the like, for a longer or shorter time in the cold, has been the cause of severe and even fatal congestive troubles, such as pleurisies and pneumonias, and a means of quickly stimulating the flagging peripheral circulation which a person has always with him, and which can be employed without moving a step, is one that ought not to be neglected or forgotten.

A Point About Addressing Letters.

“Don’t address your envelopes “city,” said the giver of advice. “If you are in New-York City write ‘New-York City.’ If you are in Brooklyn write ‘Brooklyn,’ and the postoffice people will be grateful, and your letters will be more likely to get to the right place. I’ll tell you howj got broken of the habit. 1 gave an office boy half a dozen letters to mail on his way home. The Ittle idiot lived in Brooklyn, and waited until he got across the Bridge before he mailed them. They were all addressed ‘city,’ and you can easily see what happened. The Tribune had an illustration several weeks ago of the danger of using the address “city.” In Oakland, Cal., there is another “Tribune.” Some one in Oakland, sending to that paper, used the address simply, “The Tribune, city.” That letter took the first mail for New-York City; and - came plumb into Tiie Tribune office here'. The “city” was written obscurely, and looked as much like “N. Y.” as anything else. If “Oakland” had been written on the envelope the chances are that the letter, which fortunately was only a circular, by-the-way, would never have gone astray.—[New Y’ork Tribune.

A Queer Mouse Catcher.

A hen that catches mice and eats them is a novelty that has recently come to light in Kansas City, Mo. A widow, who lives in the outskirts of that city, is the owner of this hen with certain feline propensities. Recently the widow heard a commotion an the barnyard, and upon going to learn the cause of it, saw all the chickens and the roosters in a circle around the old hen, but at a respectful distance. They were clucking loudly. The hen in the center was industriously pecking at an ani'ated object. The woman saw that -was* mouse, and called her dog. But the hen, when she saw Fido coming, seized the mo,use, which was yet alive, and swallowed it after two or three spasmodic gulps. She had been playing with it as a kitten would.— '[San Francisco Examiner. Bouquets of 'colored leaves are to 'he carried in the ipiace of flowers this winter.

LOW NECKS IN FA VOR

COSTUMES THAT SHOW THE SHOULDERS MUCH WORN. Deplored by So-Called Reformers, but Swagger Folk Will Not Discard Them —Should Be a Law Against Scrawny Women Baring Their Necks. Fashion’s Foibles. New York Correspondence:

x* J UCII as low-necked JB dresses are deplorIf 1 ed by so-called reW formers, they are •■gap a great deal by swagger folk, f-= n and many a beautlful device for enhanclug a gown's X> beauty had its first use on a low-cut i'" costume. The attacks upon this -K/I. fashion seem to Vv'Mn i* have little effect its supporters, who are as

many as ever. Indeed, many elderly women now year low-necked dresses, and there is good reason for extending the fashion to them, if they want to adopt it, for women of gray hairs frequently have very pretty necks. If they are not too plump, an evening gown that is cut low is all right. But in this connection it may be stated with reason that there ought to be a law against any woman's baring her neck if she is not pretty enough to have excuse for so doing. Many of the new forms of low-neck expose the round of the shoulder, the decolletage being straight across the bust, instead of round or square. The change benefits both the full and the thin figures, but the possessor of the former is much inclined these days towards gowns that cover the shoulders. A very handsome example of this cut is that in the initial picture. Its materials are dotted yellow watered silk and ruby velvet. The bodice hooks in front, but the wide pointed plastron hooks over. Caught In the side seams are loose narrow jacket fronts trimmed with yellow lace and ruby bows. The basque is slightly longer in back than in front, and is draped in the center of the back by means of a deep pleat. The left jacket front Is wider than the right, as it almost

THE SQUARE CUT-OUT.

reaches the center of the top, and is there cut away bias toward the bottom in triangular shape. The straps over the shoulder are made of folded velvet, ami the full velvet puff sleeves are topped by lace bretelles that reach to the edges of the jacket and form -t round collar in back. Heavy silk lines the gored skirt, and its garniture consists of two bands of bits folded velvet caught with velvet bows. In the second picture there is sketched another low cut dress that has the shoulders hidden, and it is altogether a very dainty creation. Cut from cream-colored faille, it is garnished with ecru embroidery, ecru and cream mousseline de sole and dark red ribbon. Then jack roses with foliage form bretelles that finish with red satin bows. The bell skirt is quite plain, and the bodice comes inside. Its vest is from shirred and plaited mousseline, and it is cut square at the neck in front but round in back. The sleeves consist of a series of mousseline de sole puffs and embroidered epaulettes. To the uninitiated the thought of a gown cut to leave the shoulder uncovered is a shock, but after comparing the one displayed in the next sketch with the two that have preceded it, it will be seen that appearances favor the former. This is a youthful get-up, made from pale blue silk crepon, with a widegored skirt trimmed by a full flounce of the same goods. It is headed by a crepon ruching which turns upward at the left side, where a large blue satin bow is placed. The blouse waist has fitted blue silk lining, and its cut-out is bordered w’ith a crepon ruching and a spray of wild roses is placed at the left with a bow. The sleeves are mere-

THE OFF-SHOULDER CUT.

ly pleated epaulettes fastened to a fitted cap. With the sleeves of reception and theater dresses, the case Is quite different, an'd they are made so large that even a cape threatens their beauty. The theater wrap, therefore, is a cape that is split Into a series of panels. One panel rests lightly on each sleeve, one hanp ', ta the middle of the back, and the front is in two, to admit of the fastening. Of course, there is little warmth about this thing, but the sleeves must be Wg, so what’s to be <done?

When it comes to theater hats wonderful things are worn. The Dutch bonnet and its modifications are the popular idea at present. Almost anything that is flat and very, very queer-look-ing may be called a Dutch bonnet As. for instance, you may put on a very wide fillet band of steel, which shall reach over the top of the head to the tips of the ears. From Its back edge a skull cap piece of lace or silk extends. At the sides of the skull cap wing-like bows are arranged, and at any unexpected place a couple of steel mercuries may rise. That is all, and it will be quite the thing. If you look very queer in it, don’t be discouraged, but make up your mind, rather, that you have succeeded beautifully. Again, a top of open-work wire, studded in Rhinestones, is set on a band of silk, a couple of roses depeud on either side, and a flare of sunburst of Rhinestones stands up in front. What is that?. Why, a reception bonnet, and just the right sort of one, too, according to the current code. Bluet and cerise are now enjoying great favor and are especially effective in trimmings. The latter Is almost too brilliant to be used for whole garments, though occasional examples of it awake the echoes. With bluet it is dis-

ALL IN BLUET.

ferent, because its tone is so much more gentle and entire costumes of it are In excellent taste. A handsome satin dress of this shade is portrayed in the fourth Illustration. It is simply made and trimmed, guipure insertion being used as garniture. The bodice fastens on the side and is alike in back and front, being ornamented with three bands of the lace. The folded belt and collar to match are of black velvet, and the full sleeves are topped by fancy epaulettes banded with insertion. Haircloth stiffens the gored skirt throughout, and the front shows three lengthwise bands of lace matching that on the bodice. Among the new cloths that are bidding for popularity are several that are woven like silky wool, with a furry surface, the general effect being that of cotton flannel. But they’re not cotton flannel, but some of the latest cloths and particularly handsome In greens and browns. They are well adapted to street gowns of the more elaborate type, a beauty being of green, bordered with sable and heavily enriched with yellow lace. In the gown from one of these stuffs that is displayed in the final cut, the trimming is not so costly, though it is expensive enough to show that these new rough materials are keeping good company. Its full skirt is laid in godet pleats and bordered around the bottom with a band of olivegreen mirror velvet, three-looped ornaments of the velvet appearing at intervals. Two very narrow panels appear

THIS SKIRT AN ACQUIRED TASTE.

on the front and are ornamented at the top with cream guipure. The bodice is fitted and fastens on the side, the darts being covered with narrow velvet folds. A white moire collar and chemisette ornament the front, which is further adorned with velvet and buttons, as indicated. The very latest skirt is cut in godets all around and there Is no difference of fullness front and back. Like olives, it is an acquired taste, but it is calculated to display to advantage the magnificence of material, while it does not follow or suggest the lines of the figure. It has the additional distinction of being a product of this century. Almost all fashions are mere revivals; not sc this skirt, which never was before. It should fit closely about the waist, the godets forming at the hip line. These start small and swell and widen into veritable billows at the foot, from eight to ten godets serving to fill the entire round. There are two methods of managing the godet skirt. One lines it throughout with stiff crinoline or even haircloth, which keeps the godets in shape, no matter what changes the wearer makes in position. The effect is artificial and stiff, but whatever beauty there may be in the folds is not Interfered with. The other method leaves the skirt without any lining but soft silk, and the godets turn and twist with every movement. The effect is odd enough, and more graceful than is the other, but only a very slim person can risk either, for both rob the figure of height. Copyright, 1894. Th 7 , twinkling of the stars forebodes bad weather, because it shows that -th re are aeria currents of different tom 1 eratures, thus probably indicating atmospheric disturbances. The pyramid! were begun about 4.000 years ago. An oyster may carry as many as two million eggs. | '

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

CHANGELINGS. The ghosts of flowers went sailing Through the dreamy autumn air— The gossamer wings of the milkweed brown. And the sheeny silk of the thistle down, But there was no bewailing, And never a hint of despair. From the mountain-ash was swinging A gray deserted nest; Scarlet berries where eggs had been, Softly the flower-wraiths floated in. And the brook and breeze were singing When the sun sank down in the west. •—[Mary T. Higginson, in Harper’s Young People.

THE DRAGON FLY. “One of the greatest amusements for the children of Japan is catching the ‘dragon fly,’” said Dr. W. F. Taylor, of Boston, who has spent several years in Japan. “Japan is a land of children, and thousands of them literally put in several weeks every autumn in capturing dragon flies, and tying kites to them for the fun of seeing them fly. Soon after the turn of the sun in the afternoon hundreds and thousands of huge dragon flies busy themselves flying over the rice fields and gardens, catching insects and gnats. “The Japanese boys carefully saturate the end of a bamboo with tar, and start out for the fun. They first hold the bamboo up to attract the unsuspecting dragons to take a rest. In a moment the boy gives the bamboo a twist and puts the tar end into so many motions that it is almost impossible for the creature to avoid it. The boys are so expert at the business that I have seen them chase a fly that had got much ahead of them and succeed in sticking the dragon fly to the reed. When once on the tar end of the pole there is a miserable future for the captive. They are tied together and carried around in the chase. Then a string is tied to each one, and a small piece of paper, serving as a kite, which the poor flies are required to sail. They fly away, but of course soon get caught into a tree or brush, and die of starvation.”—[St. Louis GlobeDemocrat. A BIRD-HUNTING PIG.

The following illustrates a pig’s intelligence: We call pigs stupid creatures. This is not fair. They are really as intelligent as the majority of domestic Animals, but the lives we allow them ire too short and their opportunities too few for them to show their abilities to advantage. The pig of which 1 have more particularly to tell was by no means a handsome specimen, but what she wanted in beauty she made up in intelligence. As a baby pig she belonged to a person named Toomer, and she was raised with a family of young pointer puppies. She took kindly to her playfellows, and when they became :>ld enough to follow the keeper in his walks she too would come trotting and grunting after. When Mr. Toomer began to train his young charges for the work of finding and pointing out game there was danger that piggy might make mischief. But the keeper would not leave her shut up at home. He had, he said, broken many dogs as obstinate as pigs and could surely break a pig that was so much more tractable than the rest of her kind. So he taught her to “back” —that is, to stand perfectly still whenever £ dog had found game and was pointing at it. To teach her this he used both rewards and punishments; when she did wrong he pelted her with tiny stones, for he could not catch her and chastise her as he did naughty puppies, and when she behaved herself well he had always barley-meal pudding in his pocket for her. But this was not all. He discovered that Piggy, like many other pigs, had a keen sense of smell. She learned to scent the game and point at it for herself, but not quite like a dog. A pointer dog when he has found game stands generally with one of his forepaws held up until his master comes to him. Piggy, as soon as she was sure that she had found a partridge or a hare or a rabbit, would drop on her knees and so remain for five minutes it necessary.

Unfortunately, before her schoolmaster had time to teach her any further accomplishments he died. His widow sent piggy to a man with whom she lived for three years. But, alas! piggy did not escape the common doom of pigs. In the end she was shut in a sty, fattened, and made into bacon, as £.ll her ancestors had been before her. HOW PERCY KEPT HIS PROMISE. “May I go to the city with you, papa?” asked Percy one morning. “You may if you’ll promise not to tease for anything you see, ’his papa answered. It was a beautiful spring morning, the air was full of music, and Percy was so happy he chatted merrily all the way to town. “Now, Percy, you must keep with me or you’ll get lost,” his father said, as they walked along the street. When they passed a fruit store Percy’s small feet went very slowly. “O papa, see what big bananas!” he cried. “I’ve ’most forgot how they taste.” “Your memory isn’t very good,” said papa. “O papa,” he said soon after, “what great, lovely oranges! I ’most know mother would like some. She’s so fond of ’em !” When they came to a candy store Percy stopped short. “O papa! .Just look at the choc’ late creams and—and everything!” he said. “They look very nice,” said papa, smiling. “Papa,” said Percy, as they went on, “don’t you think folks ought to be as polite as their mothers are?” “Certainly,” papa answered. “Well,” said Pergy, “when I went to Hartford with grandma she gave ms lots of candy and bananas —all I eould eat.” “It was very kind of her,” said papa.

Then the little boy turned his eyes away from the stores and trottei quietly along by his father's side. “Climb into the carriage,” his father said, “and wait until I do one or two more errands, and then we’ll go home.” When Papa Gunn came back he had several bundles in his hand. Percy had forgotten his disappointment. and laughed and talked as merrily as ever. They were nearly home when Mr. Gunn asked: “Percy, why didn’t you look at the candy and fruit after the first store or two that we passed?” “’Cause I thought maybe if I didn’t look I’d forget that I wanted some,” said the little boy. “That was a very wise plan,” said his papa. And as he lifted him from the carriage he smiled down into his face, and reaching under the seat he took out a big paper bag and a small one. “Here is a little treat for mamma and you,” he said. Percy peeped into the bags and gave a little shout. 'Bananas and choc’late creams! Oh, goody! goody] Won’t mamma be glad?” he cried. Then he ran in to show his treasures. [Youth’s Companion.

RINGING A FIRE ALARM.

Apparatus in Use in the New York Fire Department. Let us look at the various instruments for receiving the alarm. They are not many, and are very interesting. I shall describe them without using any technicalities, for the very good reason that I don’t know anything about them technically, but can explain them only as they were explained to me bj r a fireman. First, at the lower right-hand side, on a black walnut base-board, is placed the instrument officially called the “combination,” and by the firemen termed the “joker.” Why “joker” I do not know; but it is probably called the “combination” because it combines both the bell for receiving the alarm, and the “trip” or device for mechanically releasing the horses, which I shall describe further on. This is the first bell to ring the alarm, or humber of the station whence the alarm is sent; but before it rings there is a slight “click” heard in the Morse instrument placed above it; this might be called a “warning bell,” and by the ordinary listener would not be noticed at all; but to the quick ear of the man on watch and the equally well trained ears of the horse, there needs no second stroke to tell them that an alarm witl follow. This “click” is caused by the opening of the electric circuit in which the station is situated. Beside the combination bell, or “joker,” there is a small weight that slides up and down a brass rod. It is held in place at the top by a catch connected with the hammer of the bell; and as the hammer draws back to make the first stoke of the alarm, it releases the weight, and the weight slides down the rod. Being attached by a little chain to a lever projecting from the side of a clock hanging be* side it, the weight, ns it falls, pulls this lever down and stops the clock, thus showing at what instant the alarm was received. At the bottom of the rod there is u very large lever set with a triggerlime catch, and connected with certain mechanism underneath the floor with the stalls of the horses. The same falling weight strikes the trigger also, and releases the lever, and the lever in turn releases the horses. Above the combination is placed a Morse instrument, sounder, and key, and beside it a telephone, to communicate with headquarters or with other companies, and also a few frames containing a list of stations that particular company goes to, on receiving the first, second, or third alarm.

. At the other side, nearly' over the desk, is placed the big gong, twelve or fifteen inches in diameter, and very loud sounding. This begins to strike about when the smaller one gets through; and should the man on watch have failed to count the number of the station on the “ joker ” he will have no difficulty in getting the number from the big gong, for it strikes slowly,—that is, slowly in comparison with the “joker,” which rings the number out very fast. The large gong is very loud, and can be heard a block away. The company receives four rounds on the small bell and two on the big bell; or more correctly speaking, the number of the station is rung four times on the “ joker” and twice on the big gong. But, it is rarely that the firemen have to wait to get the signal from the latter, for before the small bell has rattled off its four rounds the engine has rolled out of the house and they are on the way to the fire.— [St. Nicholas.

Using the Recoil.

The recoil force of any gun is far more than sufficient to work the gun if properly employed. In alt patterns of quick-firing guns it is stored by means of helical steel springs, and thus is utilized to return the gun instantly to the firing point, and it is also utilized by the Elswick firm to open and close the breech. So far, automatic gear has already got beyond the experimental stage. What is now required is some simple and handy'arrangement which shall instantly bring the charge to the loading position when required, and not before, and as quickly run it home, and yet shaH permit the training and elevating to be absolutely continuous, so that the aim may be kept steadily on the mark, without reference to the working of the gear. In this way, any desirable rate and great precision of fire could be assured. The main difficulty would appear to be in making the gear simple, and not liable to pet out of order, and in keeping it effectually sheltered behind shields no larger than thoie now in nse. The problem is serious, but with the example of Maxim be sor 7 ..them, engineers will hardly regard it as insoluble.—[The Contemporary Review. The earliest attempt to use iron ore in thia country was in 1822.