Evening Star Newspaper, August 26, 1893, Page 11

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C.. SATURDAY, AUGUST 26. 1893—SIX'TEEN PAGES. TO REACH OLD AGE. —_+—___ Modes of Life of Some Very Noted Venerables. —_.—__- AN INTERESTING SYMPOSIUM Outdoor Exercise and Wholesome Food. HABITS AND GOOD HEALTH. ———_+—_—_ Written for The Evening Star. +ARGE NUMBER of distinguished American vencrabies were recently invited to deseribe their health and habits in youth and maturity, and to give tho rea- sons to waich they primarily ascribed their healthy old age. Their answers fol- low, and constitut> a ‘most instructive sym- posium on a subject of great and perma- nent interest. David Dudiey Fftid, who ts azel eighty- eight. said about my health and mode of life, ex- cept that I was endowed with a strong con- Stitution, and never abused mysel:’ with | tobacco or strong drink, worked hard, and strove with all my might for what I thought right, regardless of what oth-| ers thought. In college, and for years af- terwards, 1 was subject to headach>, but in | 186 I took to riding, and every week-day | afterwards, when the weather permitted, 1! Was in the saddle at 7 o'clock, and rode till & ‘Then I breakfasted and went to my daily work in court. Afier court. I worked at Jaw reform until dinner. After dinner I took half an hour's sleep, then drank a cup of tea, after which I was as fresh as ever.and went to work again in my iibrary, some public meetings, which in war Ys. and even before and after, followed closely one another, demanded ‘attersion, | ry daily and perhaps a speech. Such wa: H life until st: cht years ago, when I re- | tired from practice. Two years and a half | ago I had a severe illness, caused by sevore | heart trouble, but my vitality and a H doctor brought me through, and I am now, | though eixhty-eight years’ old, as well in | mind and body as I ever was, except that [ gannot endure fatigue as L once could. But I am always engaged in something, and enjoying my ripe old age.” | | I was strong and healthy in my youth, never had any protracted sickness, and spent most of my time in the open air. My health was naturally produced in my youth by good, plain, well-prepared food three times a day, and plenty of exercise. As | advanced in life I was carefu! to con- Unue the healthy habits of life in which I was educated. My recreations in recent Years have been long walks, exercise by dumb beils and elastics, and the daliy use Of the flesh brush, a custom I have kept up unfailingly for ‘at least thirty vears, Through life I have slept from eight to nine hours. In recent years I have required longer time for rest and sleep. I ascribe my healthy old age to good, simple food at regular times, plenty of exercise, and an absolute avotdance through life of tobacco and stimulants in every form, and a coa- sclentious regard to moral duty. Wilford Woodruff, who is president of the Mormon Church—eighty-four, said: “I was strong in youth, passing most of my time in open air. My diet consisted of plain food, New England style. In recent years 1 have not particularly changed my habits, excepting that I do not work so hard, but | work all the same. I may here say that the Woodruff family, dead and alive, so far as my knowledge extends, were and are noted as long-livers and hard work- ers. Since attaining my majority U hav never had time for recreation, but have al- ways found something to do which thought required my individual attention. 1 now sleep about eight hours, always retir- ing early. 1 eat three times a day. and of meat sparingly. wecialiy in summer. I cribe my healthy old age to an honest, in- dustricus and active out-door life, and tem- | perate living, having almed all my days to be temperate in all things; together with a good constitution. without having contract- | ed any pernicious habit or addicted myself to the use of intoxicants, tobacco, or stira- ulants of any kind, including hot drinks, | such as tea and coffee: also to the favor | ‘and blessing of Almighty God.” Cassius Mi. “T wax born « nd temperate pa- rents and was bust child, and most of yy time was sp open air. I think my heaith was fu air and all kinds of athletic 1 . nd hunting were life pleasures. the daytime I and father slept outdoors. As old age approach- ed, I subjected all my habits to reason, eat- ing and sie selecting wholesom~ iding excesses of all sorta, exting less at night especially. [have indulged in» stimulants, not using spirits, t:a or al and t never. I wil ishty on October 19 next, anil can hardly say that I have chang- ed any of my habits absolutely. T sit undor trees. holt « with flowers, trees and birds h: my favorites are ns and Dickens in light nine hou! =p. and zo hat now rather than fa delow. Ditte persons require different times of slee v can no more sleen as others than shoot. My father, Green Clay. Rever allowad? his children to be aroused frem stomher. Wnt left the time to nature. All animais incline to sleep after eating. yet night fs an unsafe time to eat too much or unsafe food. The gastrie juices act on the outer masses of the food an & the interior rds well safd fruit ferments The § wae colton in the morning. silver at noon and lee? at nicht" 1 assien my healthy old age to a spent in the open air. Tt ts not the night air which hurts. but the foul afr of close roams. when hausted and font elemonts hair—T rarely wear a thletic sports of ir tling, scuffing, handy. bese ball, timping. dancing. riding | on horseba fishing and all that. | Mofern " m “train- a.” T th ‘The animal force sho lar indicfously developed and sustained. Most persons set me down as ‘4 reaching 100 years! or that.” nle—Seventy. nildish disess severely. but came through them without unfavorable sequels. We were ‘simply brought up. in a household neith=r poor nor rich. In recent years my favorite recrea- tiom has been to go out of doors. ito the midst of nature's work, as one sows it in the undefiled country. I sleep nine hours et might and one in the middle of the day. But ¥ can hi 4 of himself: “There is little to be | t \ As to food, I use cold water and coffee with ‘@ great deal of milk for drink. ‘Throush Mfe I have practiced total abstinence from wine or spirits, except as medicine. A good rule for eating was Dr. Hale's to his stu- dents: ‘Eat a3 much as you choos», if you do not jook at your tongue afterward. | Many meals, not heavy, are better than a few which are heavy. I ascribe my healthy old age to being descended from healthy, long-lived ancestors. The constitution of my father’s family seems Indicated in the is our name.” word Hale, which Richard W. Thompson, Ex-Secretary of the Navy—Elghty-four. “I attribute the present condition of my health to a combination of causes. I have always led a temperate life, and, there- fore, none of my physical faculties have been impaired by excesses either in eating or drinking. In early life | was an ex- | cessive chewer of tobacco, but fearing its effect upon my nervous system and diges- tive organs abandoned the practice over fifty years ago and have never taken ¢ single chew since. But 1 have been an incessant cigar smoker for over fifty years and still am—not permitting much time te elapse between cigars between breakfast and bedtime, which ts, ordinarily, from 11 to 12 o'clock. I am careful in the selection of cigars, so that they shall not be strong, and consequently those I smoke are mild. My nerves have not been in the least de- gree impaired by this habit. They are as steady as they ever were. Nor has smok- ing ever influenced my appetite or dizes- tive organs injuriously. As to the latter they are still perfect, and the consequence is that my food readily digests and assim- ilates—but there is this to be said upon that subject, that I take care to eat only such food as I have learned from expe- rience will produce these results. I ascribe the present condition of my health not alone to the regularity of the habits I have explained, but in a very large degree to a practice i have steadily pursued for per- aps forty years. This is thorough rub- bing with horse hair gloves and a back strap for about twelve or fifteen minutes every morning. This [ never suffer any- thing to interfere with, unless traveling upon the cars or away from home, and I attribute the present condition of my gen- eral health far more to it than to any other one cause—or to any other several causes combined. It keeps the pores of my skin open—the skin itself in healthy condition—equalizes the — circulation—and these causes combined keep the digestive organs heaithy. [ seldom bathe by layin down and soaking in warm water, having been long convinced that this habit ts enervating to me. I wash, however, in tepid water, sufficiently often to keep’ my skin cleansed, and this always just before going to bed. ‘This causes me to sleey soundly, but I do not feel its effects in any other way until after a thorough rubbing in the morning, when, it greatly exhila- rates me. All my habits are fixed, be- cause they have been formed with refer. ence to my own health. I drink a glass of cool water upen going to bed. and another when washing, which I do the same way every morning. by opening my eyes in tepid water and pouring the same number of mugsfull upon the back of my head. } drink a pint of Saratoga (Congress) water every morning when sitting down to break- fast. and therefore never have any trouble with my bowels.” J. W. Bradbury, Ex-Senator—Ninety. “I inherited a good constitution. While | not large or fleshy, I was strong and vig- | orous in youth. I was accustomed to work | im the open air on the farm of my father, who was a physician, until I was seventeen years old, when I began to fit for college. ‘This habit of open air labor strengthened my constitution and added to my vitality or power of withstanding disease. I think that I have experienced the benetit of it ail through my life. At the age of sixty I had a very severe sickness—complete nervous prostration from overwork in my profes- jion—which required all the accumulated vitality of my early years, and three years to carry me through. I have latterly made no special change in my habits, excepi that I began to withdraw from the more active labors of my prof: m after T had reached the age of seventy-five. My life has been a busy one, and I have had little Um> er taste for recreation. I have never been a good usually waking in the night and Temaining awake one or two hours. Laver- age about seven hours per night. I find it hecessary to my health to be careful as to food. confining myself to .hat whieh agrees with me, to take exercise in the open air, by short drives. and, above ail, to keep my mind active and cheerful.” izabeth Cady 8: “I was strong from childhood and when | a girl was on horseback daily, both winter {and summer. Drivin, card playing and novel reading are the favorite recreations of my old a I sleep ten hours daily, and as to food observe temperance and regular- ity. T inherited from both parents an equa- bie, happy temperament, a good head and a purpose in life. t Lam hale and hearty at seveniy-elght I ascribe to noble pari age. good hall interest in t affect the welfare of humanity.” | Joxeph tor, Actor—Seventy-neven, Asa child I was naturally strong und was md life mg tions that “nost vitally in the open air whenever school and sleep- ing hours would permit. Regalar ard wholesome food, with healthful exercise, gave me an abundant stock of vitality to draw on in later life. I have always found sufficient exercise in my calling (that of an actor) and active habits. Irregular time for sleeping—probably averaging seven or eight hours. I always ate anything i relished and usually indulged in late suppers after acting. I assign my sound old age to a good constitution and reasonable discre- tion.”* } \ | « Neat Dow—Eighty-nine. “I credit my healthy old age to several reasons, but largely to coming from a strong, healthy stock. My both sides were Friends, \ leading industrious, ancestors on ll-to-do farm. peaceful, happy lives;-not one of them other than sober men and women in full communion with My life has Friends. brothers and sisters. been impaired by theirs, but w from aches and later years that God as Kindly conceded to me, and glad, a: my sun sinks rapidly in the west, to wit- | ess the wonderful progress the world i: making in far Retear wave oC Sveng, and ta opening up a mul le of secrets, w! hitherto it has pleased God ‘to from all this? 1 shall not see, but this 1 can foresee: If the world fails to be better as well as richer and stronger, the only Teason will be that men and women whose special’duty it 1s to set right examples and im every good work are not true tc professions and to the trust God has confided to them.” Jay Cooke—Seventy-two. “I was strong and healthy in my youth, and spent much time in fishing and hunt- ing, but was always temperate and kept the Sabbath. I have made no change in my habits in recent years, except that I have more time now to play and fish and hunt more than ever at the age of seventy-two. I sleep eight hours a day, have always been careful about my food ‘and enjoy simple diet the most. ascribe my healthy old age to a cheerful disposition, good consti- tution and plenty of outdoor exercise and recreation, but, above all, to faith and tr in God and the keeping the Sabbath holy.” F. Meholis Crouch—Eighty-fve. “From youth to old age I have been strong and healthy, the result of mental energy, activity of body and muscular ex- ercise. I now sleep six hours daily and en- Joy two hearty meals, but never eat be- tween meals. It is the abuse of food that gives rise to bodily suffering. ‘The indul- gence of ‘dram drinking,’ aquae fortis by the gill swallowed neat, and to increase the decomposition of the liver and digestive organs, gobbles a glass of ice water to wedge’ it down for certain destruction. Never suborn self, will or desire to satisty the cravings of appetite. Lact as engineer to my body. When inclined to be feverish I slacken speed; if weakened by exertion I turn off on a side track, let off all propel- ling power and rest till’sense tells me the machine is again ir. working order.’ George W. Jones—Ninety-three. “I ascribe my healthy old age to having always taken a great deal of exercise in the open air, to having always lived spar- ingly and to not having overslept mysel! Calvin Fairbank, Noted Abolitionist— Seventy-three. “I was born of strong, hardy parents, whose ancestry for several generations were remarkably hardy. I spent most of my youth in the open air, and so did my ancestry. My constitution being good, my Physical conditions were favorably in- fluenced by plain, wholesome food» free open air by day and airy room by ‘night, I made no particular change in my habit of living during latter years, except never to eat but twice a day, and nothing be- tween meais, or when very tired, and never to bathe in cold water when either hi ; Plethoric or tired. I formerly slept lent jours in summer and nine in winter. Now I sleep nine in summer and ten in winter. I ascribe my constitutional integrity to in- heritance (no one plants thistles to raise peaches), vigorous exercise in the open air, simple food, plenty of rest, cheerfulness and @ good, clear conscientiousness.”” Richard Oglesby—Seventy. “As a child I was strong and healthy and spent all of my waking hours in the open air. As a consequence I ate everything I could lay my hands on and often went to bed hungry. In my old age I still eat and drink all I can get, never miss a meal; and sleep every spare hour T can find for that purpose. War, politics and office hold- ing have been my ‘chief recreations in re- cont, years, I ascribe my robust old, age to good luck, a good appetite and good di- gestion.” Frederick Douglass—Eighty-four. “I was strong and healthy in youth and spent the greater part of my time in the open air—chiefly at hard manual labor. I now sleep seven hours and eat moderately three times a day. I assign my healthy old age to a good constitution, correct hab- its and devotion to a . Harry Watkins—Seventy. “Cleanliness is akin to Godliness. At twenty-five years of age I had an attack ot dyspepsia. After swallowing the pre- scriptions of several celebrated physicians I resolved to ‘throw physic to the dogs’ (of course they had too much sense to take i), and by a proper course of dieting speed. ily’ recovered from the result of uncon- genial food. After my recovery I abjured all drugs and confined myself to. water, never failing to wash myself from head to foot every morning, summer and winter, using the water at the temperature of the season. I cannot recall a prolonged illness | of any kind. I have no fear of epidemics or contagious diseases, probably because my mother taught me not to fear death. Blessed at birth with a Food, constitution and healthy organization, I ascribe my free- dom from most of the ills that flesh is heir to to a lifelong abstinence from alcohol and nicotine. But all these lessons, gleaned from the lives of particular men, have little effect upon present or future genera- tions. Men will ever tread the same foot- worn path and tumble into the same well- worn grav Gatu: . Grow, Ex-Speaker of Co: wresn—Seventy. Was strong in youth and until twelve years old spent the greater part of my time in the open air. Latterly I have made no change in my habits, but exercise great care as to diet. I never eat late at night nor drink much ice water at any time. I sleep eight to nine hours daily and spend as much time as I can out of doors. I never used tobacco in any shape or liquors of any kind. As a result I am now enjoy- ing hale and hearty old age. - Gen, James L. Longstreet—Seventy- four. “I was strong in youth and always in the open air when out of school and not asleep. I now sleep from seven to ten hours and eat sparingly three times a day. My only recreation in recent years has been looking after a little farm. I ascribe my healthy old to the foregoing, but above all to the iness and grace of God.” Mrs. John Drew, Actreas—Seventy-four “I_was strong from birth and have lived in theaters half my Mfe. For fifty years I have slept from seven to eight hours daily. I observe temperance in diet, but when acting always eat a light lunch after the performance. I made no change in my habits on the approach of old age, for it came upon me unawares. My best recrea- ation all my life has been acting and see- ing others act. [ attribute my healthy old age to the sterling constitution I inherited. ly mother lived to ninety-two.” John Blair—\ ety-one. “As a child I was healthy and strong and spent the greater part of my time in the open air. I sleep about eight hours daily, and have always been a light eater. Hard work all my life has been my only recreation. I ascribe my healthy old .age to an active outdoor life.” Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler—Seventy- three. “I was strong in youth and spent much of that period of my life out of doors. Walking, reading and laughing have been my chief recreations in recent years. I sleep seven hours each, night and one hour each afternoon, and eat heartily, but touch no indigestible trash or stimulants. I as- cribe my present excellent health to sound | sleep, active work and a good conscience.” tes — A Telephonic Newspaper. From the Kenaas City Star. Mr. Stephen Godhard of Buda-Pesth, Hungary, who was in this city last night, told of a novel way recently introduced in | Buda-Pesth of disseminating the news of the day. The editor of “The Telephonic Gazette” furnishes all the news of the day to his subscribers by telephone at a rate uivalent to sixty cents a month. ‘The sub- ; scribers are given a telephone of a special } pattern, for which they pay $8. It receives | but does not transmit sounds, excepting | the central office, which is the oltice | | of “The Telephonic Gazette. | The telephonic instrument occupies a | space of about five Inches spoare, ani ha: | two ear pieces, so that two persons can li | ten to the sounds on the wire at once. At | 9 o'clock in the morning the first edition of | the “Gazette” is announced by che simul- | ! taneous ringing of a bell in the houses of the subscribers, and the business man and | | his wife listen ‘to the stories of the events | of the night. The editor is talking to hun- dreds of other subscribers at the same time, and he has the instrument so arranged | that inquisitive housewives must content themselves with his precise staiement of the news, and not ask. The second edition appears at 1) o'clock, when the foreign news comes over the wire | in a condensed form for twenty :mutes or | less, according to the amount on han At! | 11 o'clock the story of the meeting of parlia- ment is told, along with divers items of 4 local and political nature. The price of; stocks is given, and the wise broker may | have time to hustle out and get “lon” cr | “short on certain securities in time to} save his bank account. At 2 o'clock the | editor gives a concise statement of the de- bates in pa At 3 o’elock the editor opens up on local news again. He tel about fires, riots and other happenings of the day in buda-Pesth. He gives his subscribers a chance to rest until 6 o'clock, when he gives literary and society news.’ Sometimes he repzats the latest poem at 6 o'clock. This 6 o'clock edi- tion is popular with the women, and the editor speaks in a softer voice. The 7 o'clock edition is the last. It gives the re- ports of concerts and plays in progress, i | 1 | ———+oe. Gifted. From Puck. Dickey Dolt—“Fweddy 1s ambwidext- wous, doncher know Cholly Chapp.—*Ya-as?” Dickey Dolt.—He can handle his cane with his left hand just as well as with his wight.” ALONG THE SEINE, — Which Paris Life, THE SECONDHAND BOOKSTALLS. Characteristic Scenes on the Two Sides of the River. AT THE RIVERSIDE RESORTS Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, France, August 12, 189s. HE RIVER SEINE marks out a wide and airy open space through the center of Paris, separating its two ideals of life. ‘There are few scenes in other cities that can equal it for pic- turesqueness, for hu- man interest, and for the mixed charms of oldness and newnes: richness and poverty, seriousness and gay ety. But one thing is lacking, and that 1s ugliness. Whatever along the Seine is mean 1s in so small pro- Portion to what Is solid, beautiful and ap- Propriate that it 1s lost in the general effect. The river runs a winding course west- ward, dividing the city into halves, north and south. ‘The south side contains the Latin Quarter Quhere, the students herd), the Faubourg int-Germain (where the aristocrats hang on), and a great part of that Paris which is supposed to retain its ancient flavor and appearance. ‘The north side of the river comprises, roughly, the business section and what strangers properly look on as modern Paris with the Boulevard, the tourist hotels, the American and other quarters of the newly rich, the great shops, theaters, res- taurants, cafes and promenades. ‘The riverside is everywhere banked up high with masonry, and the stream is crossed by handsome bridges; the north bank is lined with parks and palaces and Promenades; the quais of its south bank comprise an inexhaustible museum of an- Uquity shops and old and new book shops. her west, the river divides the museum of the Trocadero and its park—-the remnant of the exposition of 1878—from the still gay exposition grounds of 1899, where the Eiffel tower rears ita height amid the great buildings which are left standing, though often empty. Then begin the suburbs and the country. Along the Seine. Each section of the river, as it runs through Paris, gives to the contemplative idler a different set of impressions and amusements. By the Palace of the Louvre there are the swimming baths, the haunts of fishermen and the landing stages of those tiny river steamers which ure so happily called the “swallows of the Seine. ‘The sportsmen are angling for the litt fish in which the dirty water of the river abounds, gudgeons and dace for the most part. ‘These are the polssons which chiefly ure in the celebrated friture de Seine— which anyone in America may have with @ frying pan and a mess of minnows, in the absence of perch or sunfish. The fish- ermen are a curious and inscrutable tribe of time-killers, the degenerate successors of those classical loafers beloved by Musset and Balzac and other men of letters of the Past. They seldom appear to have caught anything, and they carry off their no! success With infinite assurance. The ends of their poles dabble in the green ooze of one of the dirtiest rivers in Europe as they Sape at passing steamers, chat with each other or baw! back slang’ at slangy street The Uttle ps travel up an ton, where there is an insane asylum and a terrace with a view, and down to Meudon, where there is a terrace with a view and the church and statue of that gross philoso- gher who was once Vicar of Meudon. assenger steamers constantly boarding in their quarter make use of them in going to the Louvre shops. But on ‘Thursdays and Sundays they are unpleas: antly crowded by family parties who wish to take the air and eat sugared waifies in the groves around Saint Cloud. Second-Hand Book Stal For the walker who dawdles along the quais the chief pleasure is the ever new | and cheap excitement of rummaging through the second-hand book stalls. These are presided over by a tranquil and sympa- thetle set of servers who only stand and wait, whom the mlasma of Seine loafing has unfitted for any more active occupation. ‘The side of the street nearest the water 1s protected by a thick and heavy stone wall about three and a half feet high. This is wide enough on top to support broad, ‘open showcases and boxes, and these are crammed with books. It ‘is only neces- sary to secure a license to sell and a clear space along the wall. Then you stock up with such an assortment of volumes as the great second-hand book shops wish to get Tid of; you join the Seine Book Vendors’ Mutual Benefit Association and you are at once a dealer. Although these petty deal- era are usually innocent of bibliography, they get by habit a shrewd idea of a really rare Book when it chances to" come thelr way. This often happens in the rifling of Ubraries by servants and in sales made di- rectly to them by ignorant heirs and widows. While the quais are a great hunting ground for those who wish to complete thelr braries, and although Elzevir edi- tions are as ‘thick blackberries at 2 francs a volume, few really great finds (technically speaking) are ever made by rs by. In the course of several years once came across a book printed in Amer- fea before 1800; 1¢ was a copy of the fables of John Gay, done into French by “M. D. M., Officer of Infantry,” with the imprint of Philadelphia and the’ date of 1784. Dog Baths. At the side of the bridges there are places for washing dogs, or, more correctly, places where an infinite number of dogs are wash- ed each morning. They are the dogs of well-to-do masters and mistresses, and ure led by servants down a sloping path to a low embankment which slants gent!y into the water. The device is also for the con- venience of washing and swimming horses; but this latter is generally to be seen only in the evening. Throughout the whole morning they are washing the dogs, span- fels, bull-pups, fantastically clipped poodles, vicious-looking. Danish dogs as big as calves, and more placid hounds «and mas- tiffs. There are more dogs in Paris than there are in Constantinople; and tn 4 gle year $00 Parisians have been tr. for alleged mad dog bites, where there has not been a single case in Berlin. A Curlous Section. ‘The eastern end of this lazy walk is Bercy, on the north side of the river. Bercy was once a suburban town and for ages the mogt famous wine market in the world. It still remains a market of wines, a cu- rious section of modern Paris, half town, half park in appearance, all surrounded by a high iron fence. It is open to eve one, in spite of the air of “administration given to it at each gate by the octrol of- ficlals. Once inside you walk in thick groves of horse chestnuts and plane trees, ‘These exi for the purpose of keeping cool the 115 great cellars for the storage of wine, with which this whole villaye-like enclosure is undermined. There are also vast buildings and streets marked off by piles of casks. The streets bear the names of famous wines and cities and districts known for wine, Dijon, Chablis, Rousilion, Saint Emilion, Thorins. ‘The official name of this strange town, where no one lives, but thousands work, is the “Entrepot des Vins.” It is at once wine exchange or bourse for ordinary brands as well as for the finest vintages, a bonded warchouse with respect to municipal taxes, and a ripening and manipulating center, where wonderful juggling is done with fermented grape juice, water, alcohol and other. in- gredients. Here the weak and watery wines of many an obscure vintage ure blended with blackberry-flavored Spanish wine, almost purple in color, that cuts the stomach like @ two edged sword. Here, in a word, is mixed up that “red ink of Ber cy” so unsympathetically spoken of by Afr. Robert Louis Stevenson and so familiar a feature on every Paris table. The Seine here in the east of Paris, as throughout {ts whole course in the city, Hes some Gehl teet below the level of thy streets, upon wi fore, encroach. The traffic is by cai and steamers not much larger. They carry wood, sand, coal, a little general merchan- dise and a great deal of ‘wine. Along the other side of the river, a half dozen squares west of Bercy, and nearer to the center of Paris, les the dilapidated old Jardin des Plantes, with its free zoological garden and sun-blistered flora, a paradise of cheap babies and almost as cheap wet nurses, with tramps who Me sleeping and old gentie- men who sit reading. Adjoining it still re- mains the original “Halles aux Vins" of the Quai Saint Bernard, now almost given over to brandies and spirits, in the style of % everything Anctent. ‘From this point it is an extremely shady down the river up to Charen- | uburban residents find these boats swifter | than the horse cars, and American ladies | | | | ous narrow streets, tes the Two Ideals of| walk along the stone parapet of the river, sleepy and lazy beyond all words, where open air junk stands of fascinating bric-a- brac compete in interest with the tortu- ancient and reeking with ancient odors. The junk dealers can sell you old carved wi red olf paintings, 16 say nothing of sheet fered ol tings, to say nothing o music and colored prints. They cluster Fag” tne ads ihe gaara ing to the “islands,” on the grea Which, the Te de la Cite. sits the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. This island held the oldest city of Paris. Five bridges now connect it with the greater Paris which surrounds it. It contains be- sides a few streets and squares the cathe- dral, the Hotel-Dieu (hospital), a great mill- tary barracks, the flower market, the courts of justice, and the morgue, into’ whose last ruesome hall most passers find themselves lrawn by a subtle mingling of the gaping spirit of the Seine and an itching for trange horrors. So far the sights conduce to thoughtful- ness, if not to melancholy. The cleansing of dogs from thelr natural vermin, the slaughter of innocent and_sportive’ fish, wine by the million quarts, most of it doc- tored, imprisoned wild animals reeking in thelr efflavia, dead men cold and impassive, live men sweating at their work, old books, old streets, antiquities, an ancient cathe- @ral and the forbidding courte, of justice, have left upon the mind a slightly morbid taint, which, however, is no more unwel- come to the Parisian seeker for sensations than is the strong smell of his favorite de- caying cheeses. Henceforth and westward the Seine has naught but sweetness and light. ‘The whole north bank beyond the great palace of the Louvre becomes a mag- Rificent park, interrupted only” for a. short distance by a row of fine apartment houses facing the stream in the neighborhood of the Alma bridge. The park ‘soon begins in at the Trocadero, and the avenue of Versailles and the Quai d’ Auteuil lead to roadside restaurants and all the joys of the suburbs. On the South Side. The south has the French Institute, the book stalls, the antiquity shops, the cham- ber of deputies, and the terminus of the Boulevard Saint-Germain, where it runs into the Place de la Concorde, the most magnificent open square in Europe. Be- yond, at the Esplanade of the Invalides, there are old soldiers loafing in the sun, among piles of highly decorated cannons captured by Napoleon I. At the Manufac- ture des Tabacs the cigarette girls take their nooning, and soon you have the gay grounds of the exposition of 1989. The atmosphere along this Seine walk is serene. There is little noise or hurry. A haze floats over the stream; there is a faint hum from the bustle and triffic of modern Paris on the north; and as the little steam- ers dart below and you rest yourself out- side some waterside cafe, a sleepy intoxi- eation steals over you and the poison of the Seine is in your veins. This is the loafing paradise of Paris, and it extends some four miles through its very center. A whole new life, gay, loud and bright, and at once voluptuous and healthy begins still further westward. It is the life of boating, swimming and summer excur- sions. Riveraide Resorts. On many an island there are boating clubs, aristocratic and middle class. At many a riverside village there are garden restaurants, some running to bourgeois fa:n- fly dinners, some maintaining themselves on the patronage of clubmen and their guests, some the rendezvous for fin de aie- cle merry-makers of all classes. Bougival, a prettily situated village on the curving river route to Saint Germain, a famous resort for boating __ parties and sentimental excursions of twos. and fours. Then, for those who wish to mix their sentiment with a certain risky jollity, there is the Canoeists’ Lull and “the broggery,” all at Bougival. The Parisian who takes his best girl out for a day to this village of delights will have a rogram something like the following. The re outlines, it will be understood, are fill- ed in with that commodity which Parisians never. lack and never tire of—conversation. 9 a. m.—Beautiful weather. Wide brimmed straw hat with a broad blue ribbon, white vest, loose necktie,and he goes to find Jean- nett m.—Who ts not yet ready. n—Lunch on board the steamer “Tour- Salmon trout, filet jardiniere. As the steamer passes Asnieres, the inhabitants beat the drum and play the clarionct to “fete” the passing of the steamer. Jean- nette cries back: “Ohe, the big papa! Ohe, your wife goes well! 3 p.m.—Triumphal arrival at the Grenouil- lere (the Froggery), an ultra fin de siecle resort for bathing and boating. ‘The rowers Uft their oars, the steersman lifts his hat, Jeannette lifts her parasol, and the swim: mers lift their heels as a salute, 4 p.m. Bath in the river. Hired sults. Numerous public. 3 p.m. Tea or liquors and cakes, 6 p.m. Start for Bougival proper on foot, two miles and across the bi e. Jeannette has bought a duck trumpet—that ls to say. @ highly ornamental kazoo—through which she sings with ravishing nasality. 6:30 p.m. She guys the old bridge tender, collecting. tolls. “One cent? But 1. paid one last Sunday.” The “guardian” replies: “Go; madame has not yet arrived at the fe of reason." p.m. Dinner in a restaurant garden. 8 p.m. Entry of a violinist and a harpist. 9 p.m. Still the restaurant garden. The engaging trick of blowing out the lamps. 10 p.m. Arm in arm along the road to the canoeists” ball, singing. nh p.m. Last dance hut! Balance your partners! “Brav amazing, but how hot, my children.’ Midnight. Grand farandole, Chinese lan- terns on poles. Last train for Paris, and good-bye to the good old river Seine. A Corner of Old England. Far different from this is the riverside amusement of the Englishman in Paris. There is a little island in the Seine imme- diately above the Neuilly bridge. Here flourishes the “Decimal Boating and Lawn ‘Tennis Society,” sanctioned by the prefect of police and by many a British matron. What with lawn tennis tournaments and handicaps, sculling and swimming races, English ‘and French _ billiards, Ubrary, luncheons, dinners and smoking ‘concerts, with Bass’ ale and whisky and water, with a profusion of well-behaved fox terriers and bull pups and with the graces of peach: complexioned, golden-haired English girls in gray flannel skirts and dotted muslin waists, you have one of those corners of old England which her children, far and near, know well how to construct for their delight. Yet, snug as they are upon their lle des Anglais, where the frogs sing after dusk, where the river breezes blow amo the trees and bushes, and where the bull's- eye lantern lights the landing stage, one cannot help exclaiming in the language of Jeannette, a little changed: amusant, ma{s quel froid, mes enfants.” A night beam sorrow watches to behold, Distinct, but distant, clear, but, oh, how ia. a STERLING HEILIG. ——__+0+ | ‘Trials of » French Orchid Hunter. From the London ‘Telegraph. Orchid hunting leads to strange adven- tures. M. Hamelin, the collector who has sent home all the specimens of the Eulo- phiellt uzoveriae watt Rave hitherto reached these shores, narrates in a letter how he won a dusky’ bride, and, moreover, secured his preserves of the famous plant from all poaching on the part of brother depredators, or, more euphemistically, plant collectors. While searching the the woods of Mada- ascar he had for guide and hunter the frother of the chief, ‘Mayombosa. ‘This un happy guide had the misfortune to be so severely mauled by a Madagascar lon that he died, and M. Hamelin returned alone to tell the fale. After the recital the irate chief gave the survivor the option of mar- rying the widow or being greased and burn- ed. He chose the lesser of two evils, but coupled with the marriage contract an un- dertaking on the part of his brother-in-law to close those lands to all other orchid seek- ers. —— —+0<— A Story of Hard Times, Froin the Journal of Finance. A man entered a pawnbroker’s shop in the Bowery, and, laying down a $20 bill, asked if he ‘could’ be accommodated with dollar on it. ‘The pawnbroker was an excel: lent judge of money and saw at once that the bill was genuine. ‘So he turned and said to the stranger, shoving the bill toward him as he spoke, that he was in no mood for nonsense. But the stranger, shoving the bill back, rejoined in earnest’ tones that he meant business: that he couldn't get an conductor on‘a horse car to change the bill. that he had already been put off three cars; | that his boots were awful tight, and that unless he could get a dollar on the bill he would be compelled to walk to the Battery. Well, the pawnbroker couldn't but feel that the stranger meant what he sald. So he took up the $20 bill, toyed with {t a few moments and then said to him: “Well, my friend, I'd Ike to accommodate you,’ but owing’ to the financial stringency I can only give you 7% cents.” eee Moving Tale.” From Life. === A TROPICAL ADVENTUR Battling With the Surf on the Carib Coast. The Happy Life of the Natives on the Coast of the Spanish Department of Mosqui- tin—Americaus Welcome. LIMOS, HONDURAS, July 15, 1993. When we were wrecked here in the heavy storm last January events succeeded one another so quickly and we were thrown ashore with such speed that we scarcely had time to realize the actual dangers which threatened. Subsequently, however, we were given ample opportunity to witness the power of the waves and the perils of attempting to run ashore through the surf. It was Sunday and we were sitting in a on the beach: Mrs. B. with a novel, the baby playing in the sand and Cousin B. and myself with paper and penctls. The shore was lined with Caribs, the inen in spotless garments and the women in brill- fant skirts and vari-colored handkerchiefs bound turban-like about the head. It was almost a gala day among them and the half-clad pickaninnies were -urning somer- saults on the sand, catching crabs und sporting in the surf, while the older peo- ple were tly interested and amused in a bareback horse race taking place along the water's edge, the most ludicrous part of which was a rideriess mare that took much pleasure in galloping back and forth far in the rear of the others. A big Carib man who hal been sitting on the sand at my feet busily tigging a chicoe out of his big roe with my huife. cast his glance seaward and spying a sail in the northwest called our sitention to it with the words, “Sail, aho!"” A tiny sneck of white was just visible against a threat- ening bank of clouds that ha-l all morning been rising in the north ani west. As we watched it the sail rapilly xrew lerger until a man standing by tne foremsst could be distinguished. As the boat drew still closer we were told that it was re- turning from a trip to Truxitlo, where it had taken the e of the vther white People who had shared our misfortunes of the 18th, and as the cwner lived in the town it would be run ashore here. Except in our own accident we had never seen a boat beached through a heavy surf, and concluding from our -xperience that it would be an interesting sight we followed the rest, who were congregating at a point further along the shore. The Perils of the When the dory arrived cpposite this Point the people beckoned to the men aboard. They turned the boat seaward, ran her out a short distance, and then coming about headed her straight for shore with the wind direct abaft. They came steadily onward and when just o1 tte outer line of breakers began tsing paddles to augment their speed. But a swell, larger than the average, came sweepiag up be- hind the little craft, xaiaing height and speed as it approached shallow water. Just as the stern of the dory rose to ride the pncoming wave the crest toppiel for- ward, breaking into a smother of foam that came pouring down upon the tack of the man at the tiller, making him lose control of the rudder and half filling the boat. The dory sprang forward with ail the impetus of the breaker, her bow plow- | ing rapidly through the water and throw- | ing the spray far upon either side. But the force was too great; she swerved a trifle to the left, then shot out in a sharp curve at right angles to her course and the wall of roaring foam, catching her broa lsile, filled and capsized her before the brea‘hiess tators could exclaim, “There she govs!" For several seconds we at the breadth of yellow froth -eft by :he retiring breaker, then the dark gunwale of the boat rose into view, floating wreckage appeared, and at last three hi were >een bobbing about In the water. The owners of thise s00n managed to climb upon the nottom of the overturned boat, where wave after wave broke over them in quick succession. Our attention was now drawn to the shore, where @ large dugout was hastily run down to the water's some paddles bro and five stalwart men, casting oif shirts, ran it into the surf, jumped in and carefully made their way ‘out between the breakers to the Aistreased | boat. It seemed us that no excitement had been displayed, and that in- rat picking up the crew who were being buffeted about by the waves the res- guing party gave all their attention to the floating cargo, which doubtless consisted of rum, tobacco and gunpowder. We watched with interest and much mer- riment the performances of one Carib who punea am shirt, and nd springing into a oe not mur than himself, kneeled in the bottom and Seed FON his se Foye Agnnad = ee nn | en shot out nearly its des on the other side and fell with a splash in the trough beyond, tunate every time; swamped and buri But he was not so for- a Sat of Saat be es out of it, it th Se — quite at home in the sea, Se Sha Rt hands, bore y in again and feat’ on his finally succeed the capsized boat, ‘where. Ih time diving and sw: shout fe snacks imming about in search of property, often standing upright in his tossing boat. In coming ashore he was capsized two or three times, but at last reached land with a piece of broken mast. The larger dory came ashore success- fully, bringing the sails, masts, s, rudder and most of the it cargo m the wreck. The men made repeated at- tempts to put the dory out a second time, but were as often swamped by the rapidly breaking waves, which made their efforts The three sailors slowly righted their boat, bailed her out and, clambert easily brought her to land ‘with paddies, Fond of Smuggling. By this time ft had begun to rain, and ‘our host advised us to return to the house. We may have done the hospitable o!4 fel. low injustice by thinking that he wanted us to leave, so that we might not see the cargo when it was landed, for the Caribs are | great smugglers, and annually cheat the government out of much revenue. Their Sreatest trade is done in the government monopolies—rum, tobacco and gunpowder— of which there are large quantities consum- ed on this coast. Belize is the buse of sup- plies, and being a free trade Engiish colony everything is very cheap there in compar? son with the same articles in any ot the neighboring Central American’ republics, where extortionate import duties are levied. The penalty for contrabanding ts the selz- ure of the goods and also the cruft engaged in the business as well as the imprisomanns Of the offending parties, and the Spanis authorities are constantly on the alert to gatch some of them, and, as the Caribs say. pez humbug: we too much.” ‘But the peo- ple exercise great care and are seld. - covered in tite act. dba few nights ago, long after we had gon to bed, we were awakened by ‘the bloging of @ conch shell out at sea. the town Was astir, and we could hear the people bustling about and talking in muffied tones, Our host and hostess were in and out many’ times during the night, and it was not untl near dawn that quiet reigned | jain. In | the morning we learned that our host's son | d returned from Belize with a cargo of | Tum, soap, cloth, etc. That day two Spanish officers rode in: town on their way to a coast villa: fifty miles to the east. They arriv ening, and after dark one of the: Sten strolling about our end of to} topped before our 4 | fe Mome im the m was | wn. He | door and looked in, but did not enter. We sympathized with our | host, who acted very uneasy, and with rea- | son, for there was a quantity of contraband | goods in the house. - Next morning the jard returned with @ Carib interpreter, who was frightened out | of any intelligence he had ever had, and amused us all by repeating to us in Spanish the officer's words and attempting to so. render our English that the other could comprehend it. However, we finally learn- | ed that we were honored with a visit from | the governor of the newly created depart- | ment of Mosquitia, extending from’ the! Roman to the Wanks river, which latter separates this republic from Nicaragua. He | inquired where we hailed from, where we | were going and if we would return, saying that he was authorized to giv American settler who came into the coun- try and built a house and began agricul- | tural work 200 manzanas of land (over 400 | acres) and the protection of the guvern- | ment. He also offered to secure laborers | for pigntation work. It was evident that he was anxious to have Americans settle im the department, and he dwelt especially upon the advantages of the Black river Tegion, appearing surprised to learn that | there was any good land on the Patuca. ‘The governor was a large, swarthy tan, 4 in white waistcoat. dark trousers and heavy boots reaching to the hips. wore a white cork hat, and carried a revel- ver in @ holster at his side, after the cus-| tom of travelers on the coast. His cour- teous manner, frank smile and merry eves roduced a pleasant impression quite dif- ferent from those left by the Spanish of- ficiais we had met before. Waiting for American Energy. The northeastern corner of the republic is an unprofitable wilderness, and the sem!- civilized Waikas who inhabit it are looked upon much as the Indian population of the “States.” There is little to attract one to that part of the country except personal curiosity and a love of nature, and most of the Spaniards know very little about it. Its future it is dependen: mahogany canoe which had been hauled up | f; j When asked if an: | could along the sea coast. The Caribs, among wi we have speni ten interesting days, are believed to have originated in a shipload of African slaves wrecked on the coast merly they inhabited had settlements at Brewer's lagoon, ven farther east, but have removed from there, and are now scattered in settlements from Black river to Belize. They have not intermarried with the Indians, and, unhke them, are increasing in numbers. It is refreshing, after living amiong the improvident. filthy nd immoral Warkas, to see how the strange It seems. in lace to see hand Tamer, carpenter's tool Limos, thatched rove of waving cocoanut palms, ‘The roofs | are Very steep and are covered with cahoon c. like all the Carib towns, is built of houses surrounded by a cense leaves, which closely resemble those of the gocoanut tree, and are bound upon the ramework of poles with tough slender vines of the forest. {The walls of some of the houses are made of the same leaves, placed on end and tied to wild cane poles, while the better cues are glapboarded with slabs of the royal palm. The floors are of very hard yellow clay. One-third of the interior ts partitionsd of iuto @ sleeping room, while the rest serves E. |e.ney tae sinc meen ant caITHE HOUSE WREN. hom: as a kitchen and sitting room. Many of the” houses have detached kitchens. ‘Today I went to look at the wreck=d boat. She was not over twenty feet long by five feet beam and had no desk. Not a particle of damage had been done to the hull. pon which ‘the tar and paint seemed almost fresh, but one sail was split its whole length and the main mast was en into three pieces. When she rolled over in the surf the masts must have struck bottom with force enough to break them. One of her crew was standing near end y of the cargo iat been lost he replied: ‘0, no sah! Didn't lose nothin’ "tall.”” WW. PL pepe CORDITE DISPLACES GUNPOWDER. It. Propelling Force Found Far Greater by British Tests. ‘From the Loudon Daily Trlegraph. It would seem that the days of gunpowder as @ charge for naval guns are numbered. Some experiments just concluded at the government proof butts, Woolwich, appear to prove a decided superiority for cordite. A six-inch quick-firing gun was loaded with twenty-nine pounds twelve ounces of the ordinary black gunpowder, and yielded a velocity of 1,890 feet per second, with a | Pressure strain on the gun of fifteen tons juare inch. The same ‘was charg- Sa" with fourteen pounds ‘three "ounces: of cordite, and gave a velocity of 2,274 feet | r second and a jore im deen fired there were no sigue of erosion. The new substance is the government powder mills, Waltham Abbey, and contalns ss per cent nitrogly cerine, 57 guncotton and 5 mineral. Jelly, ‘The velocity of the shot along the bore of the six-inch gun is calculated to the mil- Honth of a second from the first moment of being set in motion. Minute as this may appear, Lieut. H. Watkins, R. A. has in- vented’an instrument measure fractions of time to the nine- billionth part of a second! About fifty of the six-inch quick-firt guns have been supplied to the navy, an: the auth have commenced the manufacture of guns of the same pattern, with a velocity of 1.300 miles per hour. They not only carry @ shot over the highest mountain in QGiount Blanc), but 5,482 feet above it, and will fire so ly as to project five or six shots in the air at one time. nr THE FATAL FOLDER. It Ought to Be Guarded and It Can Be 0 Prevent Serious Accidents. From the Philadelphia Press. It fs time that a curb was put upon the folding bed, and an effectual check placed upon its homicidal propensities, That in- Senlous device for making bedroom aud par- lor intro-convertible has come to stay, but it is dangerous and ought to be muszied. It has its analogue in the upper berth of a Pullman sleeper, which used to be held down only by its own weight and that of the occupant added. This proving insecure by the fact that one berth closed Ucited and smothered a passenger, all up- berths are now securely fastened down yy a steel cable. The car may be overturn- ed, but the upper berth will not close unless the cable breaks. Strange it is that this hint has never been generally utilized to Ingure the safety of the folding bed. Every little while the feelings - hearted people are lacerated ty readine a hearing of a help! mature grave by a folding. 5 ressure | of less babe fin the unlooked for Occasionally adults are caught in its wooden jaws and carried cel- ingward in a posture which scribed as vice versa. Last week housewife in New York city, while ing one of her fo aid of a lighted lamp, and with laudable purpose injecting benzine into its innermost Tecesses, inanaged to disturb the equilib- clue of tts unstable machine, when, pres. ‘0, it closed, and woman, lamp, bengitie an: buge were burned up together. 7 is no ni u The foldin, can be robbed of ail its terrors by ihe’stee ito ple process of securely fasten open di it up. No @ pre- when = not to close nicely adjusted weights or springs erate with a touch, even th the toueh is inadvertent, will answer. If folding bed manufacturers were as responsible leop- ing car companies, one case of ‘smothe ve resulted tn ‘the adoption —s ould ive prevented ef- fectually any second catastrophe closing this useful economizer of household space, =e A Buried Treasure. From the San Francisco Chronicle. There is a fortune buried Rear the town of La Plat im the Argent lic, and the down there are going can over it. money is all in Bank of Eng- land notes, “and there. fe 351,000 po the man who is fortunate to and it, When the civil war broke out in Chile President Balmaceda, realizing the im- Sone yim, Such & conflict, com. trusted friends, to proceed to Bngland aed purchase or build a couple of fast cruisers, Which were to be manned by picked crews nd sent out to Valparaiso as fast as steam carry them. was could garry. them, Pinto given bills Starting on his mission. The only possible way he could get to England was by passage on one of the steamers running between Valparaiso and Liverpool; and, as she had to go via Magellan's Straits and up the Atlantic, the voyage took considerable time. especially as the steamer had to call at Montevideo, Buenos Ayres and Rio de Janeiro. Before Col, Pinto could reach England and secure the cruisers he needed Balma- ceda saw how things were going, and, real- izing that lots of ready cash would be a good thing to assist him out of the coun: try in case he was forced to leave. he tel- egraphed to Pinto to let the cruisers and hurry back to Val ‘with the Money as fast as he could. Pinto took the precaution of he bills of exchange into Rank of notes, and with the 350,000 pounds safely stowed away in a steel box in his he started on his trip back. When the steamer reached Montevideo the news of Balmaceda’s downfall reached him, and he concluded that the Argentine Ke- public would be @ more pleasant place to reside in for a while at least, as he was known to be a personal friend of the de- throned dictator. Pinto took his resi- dence in La Plata, and during his residence there formed the acquaintance of a gentle- man named Parry. After the excitement caused by thing was out and but This done he went back to Chile with a light heart, but no sooner had he set foot on shore in Valparaiso than he was ar- rested and thrown into a dungeon, that when he got ready to hand the over to the government he would be re- leased, and not before. of Pinto's friends, however, told him that so as he kept the money out of the hands of his enemies he was safe, but as soon as turned it over to the government he would be taken out and shot as a traitor. Pinto is a native of Buenos Ayres, an@ zi he concluded to use part of the money in effecting his if possible. With this object in view he wrote to Mr. tell ing him how matters stood, and offering him one-fourth of the money if he would in- @uce the Argentine government to take up his case and demand his release. The lo- cation of the buried treasure was not given in the letter, but would be sent to Mr. Parry if he concluded to accept the proposi- tion. Mr. Parry by accident lost the letter, and the finder soon made known the facts that the big fortune in Bank of England notes was buried somewhere near the town, and the result is that about every on, thet com queens © aoate Se See out ing for the treasure and leaving every- thing else to take care of itself. A DELICIOU DRINK, Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. orsorat nail Phong with 152 tons, in the hollow ant still, after 250 rounds had Just under the manufactured at that hich will, it is said, | ties at thé royal gun faciories | by reading of nx of examin- ding beds closely with the e001 drink, taxe | #8 fui of rocks, ll — Most Interesting of All the | One of the Sometming About His Habits, Domestic Traits and Value im Destroying In- sects That Injure the Garden. Of all the birds that affect the vigintty of our dwellings and enliven our grounds, the house wren is one of the most interesting and the most original. What # fus Mighty, fidgety little midget he is! Never at rest for @ moment while there ts # ray of @aylight. Flying, fluttering, hopping, scola- ing, It would seem that his small body must soon be worn out by the fiery vehemence of his soul. And yet he is little only jn other People's eyes, for there is nothing smail about bim in his own estimation, amd he can occupy more space than any other bird of twice his size. His feathered neighbors Soon find out how much room he wants, and he usually inspires such respect us 10 insure him plenty of it. His physical cour- age is out of all of his body. and the feurieasly throws dows: the Saxe of battle vo ali comers; indeed, should that arrant robber and coward. “otherwise Rotorious as the embicm of the Republi: Yenture too near the domicile of our minute friend, he would soon be put to ignominiou Aight, although the combat would be some Zrat of the “bull and the bumisie-bee” Singing While in Motion. In the matter of voice the wren iw not 80 highly gifted as some other binds, but he Goes not suspect It himself, and imaints upon singing all the time that he is in mo- tion. However, his song is not unpleasant, and certainly is cheerful and suggestive of | Mfe and activity. ‘There ts no bird that Greater eccentricity in oat site. A hollow tree or stump, @ Knothole in a post or branch, or @ wood pocker'e last year's tenement are among fhe more prosaic localities of his ch vhen more aesthetically inclined he aT old boots or hats epee from the ree the back sh ts hung up to scare the cherries, or takes an old tomato can lying on the roo! of und: the frolicsome &n excelient nesth is never troubled it. school boy ma! place for the wren, who the ghost of the for- Im one case a nest was buttt, truck and its" =| rack. and its owners preesn. undisturbed by the doseas of trains undered over their heads every day. whatdilt Chetce of 2 House. tever place the wren may choose for his home, his ambition is to occupy the whole of it, however large. This is ac- complished by carrying in sticks, straws and other rubbish until all the available led, leaving only just room for would fin it say, but they have ake some pretty | entirel % i ularly much to the the wren also, her cities: and often te con- ee with that ese base-born plelelan: self to be quite one of the hundred,” and residence in his : “fe Bebra? Fy 2 i veil E' caeieeHiyit il | i h 8 HE FE brood is his favorite number, kes to repeat twice or three times tl Now, s0 many mouth uines great inead ‘of the tamil i he season. fillea, of ee 3% £ i a "1 Kissed ber lips, yen with thoughts late deep blue exes were fraught wits doubt ‘would my darting teal T coased the cause of © was my wedded wife: stood Werle the gate "2 ar dear wee hota, Is Joy Was quite imteauperate 1 whispered iow, “Aly love, amy own s forth we fared in bridal sta With crelashes all Wet with fears ‘She auswered, “ly my hat ou straight?” Reversca dimmed those early yeare, My dowufall was precipitate 1 gently brake the ews to ber Aly angel wite aud loving mate, Our Hite all was at the dogs ‘And we shouhd have to cmigre She trust (uli wade amewer bray ‘With coufdence for avs tate. “You'll ‘hake another fortune, dear, But tell me, te my hat un straiglit?” Speers with much applauae “dak we celebrate: ingle handed Warned wud Qred ledge of good and evil you, Siie pea were eamssened ts vacate, Soatriied at So Baden and secured —tee- The Infact From World's Fair Puck. Little Jack (looking lakeward)—“What tr that, mamma?” Memma—‘That's what they callscrib. It “Is it the cradle that Tuthed im the deep, mamma?" is