Evening Star Newspaper, October 29, 1898, Page 23

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1898—24 PAGES. ~ LONDO SLEEPLESS Scenes in the Great City Between Midnight and Dawn. ———— STREETS SEEM VERY QUIET THEN _—_—_-_— ors. Supplying the People With Food it. and Morning Papers. SIDE LIGHTS - QUEER w lie evens In the London Mail. r hardest-worked of London's thor- o is stre its bedtime i: from 1 to 3. These are the hours th ipon to wash it. By the time the last suburban homegoers h ve got to Ludgate irymen are out with their hose the poor, tired thing down. It is hansom or two lay in requent editor. The police- reverie to read the bill of lorg cold restaurant and won- “choux fleurs au gratin” might empty or the ok when the rest of London soundly to its nest—and Fic y dry from its morning tub, 1s flush of its morning’s work. A dull = roar runs surf-like alon its two the nd of many printing ma- Carts are mc ving through winding of gaslit stables. Piles of news- at so in the grind w up on its pavements, sentiy one by ene the carts ¢ sy. The muffled shriek of whistles 5 of (ant buffers remind you er railway stations, they also, tle and clank—yet with unearthly still. You und—the re that_or- London streets which in nies and harmonizes At night the roar i t n round a corner with a umost startles It is the same 1. Its the only time In the daytime i yu would be knoe er, it never ¢ to you: torrent of traffic keeps the et that the buil ything more than the frontiers udway. Ever-Wakeful Thames. he Embankment, for exam- ran see the Thames. I oo bridges are coronets of them the vener: river half divined through his man- notes, be He is darkly turbid in the yel- | gi ae 1 t, and you ean smell his naked- } the north. & Woes 3 need their be ie neate be In the summer tim 1 down, powe h the heart of we are of & phan’ her ins om, eac : Yuring the naps he creeps forward with } or les: pidity, according to his a ness to the seal and consequent fear of t heard or seen, When but ten or | = tw yards away, and the seal is In the | ; depths of a good nap, the bear rushes upon h him, and with a ow of his power- of the ar no re I piest man on the St of them—the Net th , You soon perceive, 1 not wait—food, let- | ho! ape te The paper carts are still toward thi ations, and : & to compete with them but el post vans d the beth breathe of tha ndon outside have un Fr ; a distant lava peaks, and the lum!nous mid- i i sirens night sky. The intensity of the blue water Pass work is of lake or oc! ously silen fie blank with sme!l of 3 from Among the en is hi Markets. ent Gar d half asleep. flares with i strong voices. mud pools on this plain are the most Thr gauare akan rous, for they spout hot mud diagon- t : out of the earth. Coming upon them m seldom seen b¥}in one direction they are not’ seen, and : ay horse box on a visitor has gone home with a se ies, which show foot. The hydraulic display is now ox its own] very fitful and inconsiderate tourists have ‘ suxh the | injured the spouting fountains by loading s you may fol-| stones into them to see them cast out, so f salesm you must take your tent with you, and of encamp on the plain to await the pleasure of their maiest Blest_ will serve you i Well while waiting. The Great Geyser had en 4 no ed for a week when we were be there i such surliness indicated a near sh than before. They miss now, and this into a snow house ice and connecting at the top of the dome with an aperture about the size of a shil- called the blow hole, for ft is through that the seal breathes when he is in want of fresh air. Here the bear watches for many a long ‘ssary, and when the snorts of al are heard he crush dome of the snow house with his paw, im- paling the seal on his curved cla to practically demonstrate polar bears can subsist in an arctic winter. See G the s proceeds Tourists eve wou the snowy jokull | she Waterfalls russet nd the basin of the Great eusy. the d high whi his dinner in a r3d handkerchief. Behind ccmes another and another, then two, then a group. You notice that they all step on- ward as with a purpose, so differently from the loafers of the night. morning people, beginning their day, not ending it. Then you turn the corner of Liver- pool street and a thick column of men is streaming out of the Great Eastern station, heading across the road, plunging forward into the streets all around. And suddenly, all at onc3, It is morning. Dawn steals up shyly under electric lamps, but now you see that the sky has lightened from dark gray to nearly white. begin to clothe themselves in their day col- These must be Things . You fe3] the breath of the morning on 'y Wagons, house, denly open. A Torrent of People. For two hours they pour in faster and faster the stations vomit them out till succeeding train loads merge into one continuous torrent of people all men, which is characteristic of the land where the workman brings a cup of tea to his wife's bedside; abroad a large pro- portion would be women. The wonder is where they all go to. For though London is clearly awake and has already absorbed its thousands, it hardly seems less empty A few mea at building, an electrical enginee just getting to work at his dynaincs, a man removing a dust bi: London is so vast that they soak in_no deeper than this. But all the fringe is waking now, and every Presently the shops are openi tall hat rises splendidly on the scene, and Lopdon far. station pou is awake BEARS SLY Throw I bear—and so stun re, thus secu » Germans ast > ice of oce Is can be plair , probably ice to they can t movement. if the rent hi is kept ful paw knocks the so far ay t escape eiv winter time by ur, if nec ICELAN Have in the Internation: ades of mauv are All the are found lds! king r for our bu icie ob The n it fin owed all th tivity from every opening, as at a cue. might be the chorus filling up tke stage of an opera. From Broad street now, as well as Liverpool street, on foot, on bicycles, leaping down from the tailboards of rail- they come and come. closed a moment ago, rs indeed. °. sa he most useful food of the ice bear, as very appropriately common seal of the arctic latter is the wariest animal of and both Eskimo and polar bear "gy to catch It. san uy s sle their holes, which lead down through the i the water below ks up as near as begins crawling on his wary pr hort whe h 10Ug: ‘ay from the hole that he can- that way, ed is not immediately fatal the hollowed out b cov D Injured Them ‘Throwing Stones Into Their Craters. al. Barren as the place really is, the artist's revel in the beautiful effects on , th gree! in Geyser, Strokkr (the Churn), and Little Strokkr, while Blesi (the Blue is lined with exquisite white, like in, making it a fitting vessel for the of food, and for furn tea and smooth end beautiful that I seemed to be mutilating somethirg ra off pieces of its lining, but I knew they would be valuable souvenirs, and the an- Water would soon in mps of Ice at Wal- ruses to Stan and Capture Them. From the London Telegraph. In his native home the polar bear does not often meet with small boys anxious to treat him to buns and other dainttes. consequence is that Bruin has to devise many curious wa: and none are more strange and interesting than that related by two trustworthy trav- elers in Greenland, that country of strange sights. They have known the polar bear to take a stone or a huge lump of ice in his fore paws and from a favorable height, as a cliff or a precipitous ice hill, to hurl the e down upon the head of a walrus—an enormous brute, often twice the size of the him that Bruin could Tush in and complete the destruction at his superb, and the mighty nd. arm tints, from cream to ts of the rainbow, ma- your face, and its indefinable stirring in your blood—yes, even in Finsbury you feel People crowd in around every corner, They A pub- is sud- steadily: Nearly work on % on a door- hat is all, hordes. The ‘i fresh its The ff securing his food, a month's rations. call thi re- hen the snow Is off hore and islets, the n as black dot: ep, but always ni nd into by the one afar, | sms safe, and ather be sunn. naps, relieved by n it is scanning the approach. | bear is very quiet itself, with eyes ap- h really a corner of in this way he hopes a heap of snow, coat readily helps r brute senseless even if the blow ice Is covered with y the seal ering the hole in the in the fragile and how SER y e twilight softening ns and grays on the And the ge th mineral deposit yser, Lit- hing boiling coffee. It was so when I chipped amend spouted peared, 1 unusually ) feet, and WRESTLING TOURNAMENTS A Sport Which is Extremely Popular. All Through Japan. Umpire is Usually a Shinto Priest— Contests Last All Day—The Three Classes. Frem Frank Leslie’s Weekly. The tournament lasts all day, and the wrestlers are divided into three classes. The first class men, the masters of the art, are all well advanced in years. Some of them are enormously stout—a physical condition which does not seem to militaie against strength and agility. The wres- tlers, as a class, are taller than the aver- age Japanese. They wear their hair in the ancient style, shaved around the fore- head, and brushed from the back and side and made into a queue, turned up and knotted with a string on the top of the poll. First class men wear no clothes, other ihan a loin cloth and an embroidered apron. These aprons are marvelous af- fairs. They are made of plush or velvet, on which are designs worked in oriental gold. The second class is made up of men who in this country would be called ama- teurs. They are not allowed to compete for prizes, and they are not proof against the wiles of the foxes until they are grad- uated and enter the professional lists. The third class is the novitiate, composed of youths, none of whem is more than twen- ty years old. The contests commence at 10 o'clock in the morning. The youngsters appear first. They are followed by the amateurs, and their bouts usually evoke more hilarity than enthusiasm. When the amateurs have concluded their farce the spectators are in rare good humor, and they cheer When the umpire announces the names of the professional combatants. The umpire is usually a Shinto priest, and he wears a amishmo,’’ the ceremonial garb of his office. For the first class combats the um- pire is a venerable man, one of long expe- rience; while for the minor matches his place is taken by young priests who are in training for this mest important branch of their professicn. After the umpire has called the names of the combatants the men themselves make their appearance. Two of the naked, gi- gantic, muscular fellows slowly ascend to the arena, drink a Hitle rice water from ladles, take pinches of common salt from small baskets hanging on two of the posts, ard, looking up reverently to a hideous wooden god squattirg on one of the posts, throw the salt around. It is an act of purification, and while doing it each prays secretly for his own success. They then march slowly arourd the arena, stamping heavily on the grocnd, rubbing their limis and making hideous grimaces and gestures of defiance. After this preliminary show- ing off they squat opposiie each other, in a@ posture not unlike that of a frog, resting their fingers on the ground, between their knees, and leaning toward each other until their foreheads nearly touch. Strained as the position is, they remain in it for sev- eral minutes before attempting any grip. Then, when th? umpire spreads his fan, they both spring up and clutch at each other like wild beasts, and each tries to throw the other, or force him across the siraw rope which is laid around the edge of the arena. If the grip is unfair or un- satisfactory to one of the opponents, he immediately puts up his hands, and’ the umpire stops the bout, and the prelimi- sss is repeated. If the contest E five minutes, and neither man has gained any advantage, the umpire stops the bout, and the two wrestlers are com- pelled to wait until their turn comes around again. As scon as a point is decided the umpire indicates the victor's side with his fan, 2nd then follows a demonstration of joy among the patrons of the successful lete, almost as boisterous and enthusias je as American collegtans at a foot ball con- test. The thousands ng hitherto well- behaved on the matted ground rise up and shout themselves hoarse. Cups, bottles, lacquered boxes, and not infrequently woney, are thrown into the arena. ——— THE CHINESE CALENDAR. Some Queer Divisions of Time and Names Applied to Them. From the Staats Zeitrng. The Chinese do not compute their time by centuries, but by periods of sixty years (luck shiapstx wood); each year in this space of time has its own name, partly re- lating to the five elements adopted by the Chinese sages, viz., wood, fire, earth, min- eral and water, partly connected with de- nominations of live creatures, such as rat, cattle, tiger, hare, ete. From the combi- ration of these two factors into a double word results, at the same time, whether the year is a lucky or an unlucky one. If, for instance, wood and cattle meet in the nome of a year, this signifies a good crop; fire and tiger prophesy a year of war. The year 1897 bore the name of dingh-dan—fire and fowl—and signifies a year of pea The Chinese attach great value to these names, and are frequently governed in their enterprises by the fact whether the name of the year implies luck or bad luck. The division of the year 1s a two-fold one, it being divided into twelve months and twenty-four semi-month: The latter bear the signs of the old Chinese zodiac, and are called rain water, vernal equinox, pure light, rain for the fruit, morning flush of summer, little rainy season, seed of the herbs, summer solstice, commencement of the heat, great heat, slgn of autumn, end of the heat, white dew, etc. Like us, the Chinese have four seasons (mua). |The months have alternately twenty-nine (weak months) and thirty days (strong months); frequently leap months are introduced for the sake of equalization. According to the Chinese calendar, there are also two kinds of weeks, some of ten days and others of fifteen days, so that a month Its divided either into two or three weeks. The first days of the months are designated by num- bers, but the first day {ts also called that of the weasel and the last one that of re- turn, every day of the full moon being styled the day of hope. The night is taken at seven hours, the day at five. The count- ing of the twelve hours, each equal to two of ours, commences at 11 o’clock at night. Frequently, however, the hours are also designated by animal names; thus the mid- night hour is called the hour of the rat, while the micday hour {s that of the horse. Each hour is divided into double minutes, minutes, and seconds. ——__-e+___ Fined for Wearing Knickers. From the London Truth. When a German official goes by the name of Staatsanwaltsschaftsrath, he feels that he is entitled to a certain reverence. A : jn} Saved Coe fe teare eee ee oes a wiluiess Guat nok for instanse/epnean p= 3 Salesman stands b; jim ST eauttal cameanca ule ee ty | fore his sesquipedalian worship in the coe. dees sUtseh [mats a renned ant ericerie toe tume of the complete cylist, and so recently wate of gas ee in the correctional tribunal of the Berlin san ton is " _ PER andgericht N a man o' the wheel was 3 s f The First Elevator. fined 20 marks for appearing in what the ; Png Bas © Patladelpbia Record, indictment termed “pump-hosen and tri- : are lumbering. ¢ ators, or Ifts, as they are called in | Cot-jacket with jacket external.” ‘The presi. tities Gee e | dent made an appropriate little speoch, In 3 t % > which he explained to the culprit th : jin high bulldines, but on the European con- | was not to the man, but to the magistrate, - |timent they are but seldom found, even in| he had been wanting In respect, and the s. This is the more surpris- | accused assured the president in reply that P ply « » Invention originated in cen- | “he had as great a reverence for his name ¥ The earliest mention of the] #3 for his office.” The latter was, as sl- a= pvator is made In a letter of Napoleon 1, | Teady said, Staatsanwaltsschaftsrath, and t [addressed to bis wife, the Archduchess | the former was merely Smith, which shows welts Maria Loulso. He writes to her that, when | that the glories of our berth and state— aa in Schosabrvnn, then the summer resi- | €Ven a legal berth and judicial state—are = dence of ths Austrian emperor, near Vi. | Shadows, not substantial things. The wear. ot le he used the “chaise volante” (flying | €F of the pump-bosen was then dismissed € } chair) in that which had been con- | ™inus 20 marks. fs | structed for Maria Theresa, to = tor © r save her the annoyance of climbing up the Zine City. Ps _ ng flight of stairs. It consisted of a | From the London Tablet. ors small square recm, sumptuously furnished |. ; . ; the with hangings of red silk, and suspended | “A City of Zine” ts the name which may PB rcpes, with counterweights, so | appropriately be given to the mushroom is si be pulled up or let down with | city of Portuguese East Africa, Beira. All x nia shatt built for the purpose | the houses, all the hotels and public build- w . The great Corsican mentions | ings. barracks and warehouses, are built Bt f all ts a little he first entered the “flying | of zinc. So great has been the speculation cou house, right in eo ae asked for his weight and | in building and so urgent the need for sup- the a couple | (at of his two companions, probably in| plying the inhabitants with cheap ‘aud of er story, going | order to employ the proper counterwelghts, | speedily erected dwellings that a city fas b urga’s. We seem | Since it was difficult for the operators to | heen built up in six months. ‘Thousmeds ot to he nection with feo tpl right point unless weights were | tons, of zinc from France, England and Mri ik some ot a “ rica supplied the material. The un- Me Sot eves or te | og! wimllat elevator swas built in the castle | Aporce supplied the materi by the as- oo it lof Duke Charles of Lorraine about the | pect of this zinc town is heightened by eaate tin but so One was simpler, con- |/the thought that men have to dwell in ng only of @ chair on a platform these houses under a tropical heat. Every- r ha en § on—you must try Pra Secs = thing in this strange city is under the re ly altintght Uetare’sodi cen Situntions Seenrea. dominion of the metal. Even when a per- Fealize how Now it fs half. 4 Many situati secured through tne! scn falls ill he is carried on a zinc ays is half-past 5. ut advertisements in The Star. The cose | stretcher to a hospital, which Is also, of Pe “ft aslcep along Bishopszate street } is but trifling. Fifteen cents pays for fifteen | course, made of zinc. And if he dies he is Yeu m ct a working man, striding smartly, | words. | , laid to rest in a zinc coffin. RANDOM VERSE. ai Indian Sammer. Z Bivara Wibor ase in Howe again, ‘The valleys Iie ‘asleep, n'a silence alts and deep And o'er the glen and, rit A ivstlc presence cor taybrood ‘And veils In haze t-0ff, wood, And robes in purple évery hill, No butterfly is on the wing,’ And all the birds have, to sing, But still a charm ades the scene; A tender look is on the earth, As though it dreamed of death, or birth, And waited patient and serene. Colffed in gold, the dying trees Recall again sweet memorick Of summer's fervent lush and glow; And down the lane where asters nod, The sumach and the n rod Are waving gently to and fro. ‘The rabbits scurry in the morn, And in the wigwams of the corn The tiny fleld-mice are-at play; Nature's mystery fills the air, And high and low and everywhere It claims the solemn night and da +2 Bereaved. Let me come in where you sit weeping—ay, Let me who have not any child to die, Weep with you for the little one whose love I have known nothing of. The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed ‘Their pressure round your neck; tke hands you used To kiss. Such arms—sueh hands I never knew. May I not weep with you? Fain would I be of service—say something, Between the tears, that would be comforting— But ab! so sadder oe ae am I Vho have no child to die! x “JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, Keep at It. From Printers’ Ink. If _you expect to conquer In the battle of t You will huve to blow your trumpet In a firm and steady way. If you toot your little whistle And then lay aside the horn, ‘There's not a soul will ever know ‘That such e man was born, ‘The man thet owns is acres Is the man that paks all day; And the man that keéps a bumping 1g the men that's here to stay. But the man that advertises With a scrt of sudden jerk Is the man that blames ‘the printer Because {t didn't work. But the man that gets the business Uses brainy printers’ ink, Not a clatter and a sputter, But an ad. that makes you think. And he plans his advertisements ‘As he plans his well-bought stock, And th. future of his business Is as solid as a rock. = Death's Ferryman. Dr. Jobn S. Gilbert in Cleveland Plain Dealesn, I am a ferryman, old and gray, And the river is deep and wide; And whosoe’er crosses by night or by day Can never return, but forever and aye Must remain on the other side. ‘The waters are cold and the current is swift, And the mists hang heavy and chill; And backward and forward they slowly drift, With never a break, and they never lift, ‘Though they seem to be never still. The heavens are dark and the course fs long, Bat my boat is ch and true; And the waves are rough, but my arm ts strong, And safely I ferry the ghostly throng ‘To the shore mist-idden from view. All are equal who cross with me, Beggar and millionaire Vassal and ki ind bovd gad, free, Peasant and noble of high . ‘The maid and her lady fair. ‘The weary toiler who longs for Fost, Brave youth and manhoof proud: ‘The erring one with his <ins confessed, The sinless babe on the mpfhens breast And the mother with sorrow bowed. Some on their journey set ferthwntone, With trembling and anstoms fears; Some amid wailing, with s6® ald moan, And prayers that their lives had never known, And heartbreak and bitter tears, Man brought naught into tlie world save death, And naught can he take ve Naked was he when he first drew breath, And naked wiil be when he goes with Death On Lis silent mysterious So all are equal whom Death sets free, ‘To cross to the distant strand: And king and vassal, and bond and free, Whether of lowly or high degree, = Must all cross the river of Death, with me ‘Tc enter that unkyown Jand, see — win: Margaret W. Fuller in thd New England Magazins. I thonght I coujd not tame my will to plow The drndging level of plain every-day, Now up, now down, a tollsome, turning way Back past the furrows of my Hife’s dull **New."” Yet, though I cannot mount Tomosrow's brow To gaze across Time's distant slope, I pray Let me not fix my eyes on furrows gray, Nor harness too my soul, and spirit bow. As Jason sowed, divinely sure that he Strengtt: could not lack to do what fate should And reined brute force with a laborious zes So be plain paths herote fields. Let me, With eyes and soul uplift, pursue my task And drive my will at Duty's high behest. ———— +0 There's Woe in Squawville. From the Denver Post, It 1s with humiliation an’ with sorrow that I state That ol” Squawville has beer bupkoed in a mauner up to date, She bas had it played upon her in a low-down sort o” way By & bold, designin’, miserable, hand-out chawin’ a; All the pains o” degradation are a rackin’ of our souls, Au’ we feel Jes like xi-o-tees that’s a sneakin’ ‘round their holes, An’ I guess the only reason that we didn’t hang the cuss Was because of the amazement that was paralyzin’ us, We was all in Claney’s boozery, discussin’ politics An’ its many quite unholy an’, disreputable tricks, When the cussed stranger entered an’ chipped in with the re: That "twas thrice-accursed whisky caused the tricks that were so dark, Said the men that sold the pizen ort to rot shet nip in jail For a seoain’ boozy victims down the purgatory tra! An’ the laws that authorized ‘em fur, to manu- fucture sots Would disgrace the legal statutes of the heathen Hotteutots! Then he said he'd bin a readin’ how us western cusses think It's 4 humorous percedin’ fur to fo’ce a man to drink— How we'd poll our ol” stx-timers on a tenderfoot when he Would decline to flood his innards with the jufce of misery. He had feet that wasn’t noted fur the toughness of their sole An’ a borderm: full o” hol But he never bluff. Fur to lubricate his thorax with the hell-invented 7 stuff. This attack upon the Ucker which we hold to be divine Run our powers of forbearance cl'ar across the limit line, An’ we ranged a dozen glasses ‘long the bar in front o” him, An’ we filled "em with the nectar o’ delight cl’ar to the brim, Then we drawed an’ told the sfranger fur to drink ‘em every one we) Or he'd hear the snappy Hitktt’ of a retributive gun, An’ Le wa'n't deliberative th hf efforts to obey— ‘Tossed: "em down an’ smayked_ pis ips iu an ap- preciative way. era Li ‘Then he wiped the dripyth lodgment on his chin 7 ‘ An’ remarked that if the farkéep 'd jes’ set “em up agin 4 He'd be happy to amuse uy by! remainin’ on the floor “ @ampness from its An’ showin’ us how gracid{i Hé could handle an encore. _ ‘Then we tumbled in a minyf@; He war’ Jes’ a bum, by jinks, flowgr 0° Squawville fur a ‘That had worked the bellyful o” drinks, ; An’ before we could revivelfroth the paralysis the scamp Sort 0” oozed out of our ce an’ hot-fovted ‘out 0” camp. . Tea re PE Over the Hills and Far Away. Over the) hills and far ont y 4 rt ¥ steals from his mornin And under the blossoming apple tree Po He Hes and be dreams of the things to be: Of battles fought and of yietories won, Of wrongs o'erthrown and of great deeds done— Of the valor that he shall prove some day Over the bills and far uway Over the hills, and far away! Over the hills and far awa It’s ob, for the toll the livelong day! But it 'mattereth not to the soul afume With a love for ricties and power and fame! On, O man! while the sup 4a Ligh— On’ to the certain joys that ite Yonder where blazeth the noon of day, Over the bilis and far away Over the hills, and faraway! Over the hills and far away,’ An old man lingers at clase ‘of day; Now that bis Journey 1s almost His battles fought and his victories’ won— The old-time honest; 4 Fhe truthfuiness and Bis friends of youth, ome and mother—where Over the hills and far aways: ne? Over the hills and f: 1 AVS SUGENE FIELD, z THROUGH RURAL ENGLAND Picturesque Features That Are Missing in Fields That Are Crossed by Foot Paths—Thorns te Interfere With Work. Poachers’ From the New York Observer. During harvest English agricultural la- borers are at work in the fields until dark- ness comes. The last load is often carried by moonlight. For both farmers and labor- ers the harvest time is a good time. For the laborers it means any amount of over- time at overtime prices, and from June to September hundreds of thousands of En- glish laborers nearly double their wages and put together the savings which are to carry them and their families with comfort through the winter, when the working days are short and wages not as high as when farm labor is in great demand. Journeying through rural England just when the crops are being carried one can- not fal! to notice two features about En- glish fields that are missing in American fields. One of these is the extent to which English fields are cut up by public foot- paths. The other is the studding of the fields which have been cleared of hay with suff thorn bushes cut from the hedges. The footpaths date back to centuries when farm- ing land was not so valuable nor so closely cultivated as it is today. Farmers do not like these footpaths. Nor do landlords like them either. For a field with a footpath across it commands less rent than one that is completely inclosed. But in England once a footpath always a footpath. Even the railways have had to accept this usage, as any one can see by the frequency of foot bridges across the lines in rural England. As regards the studding of newly-mown fields with stiff thorns, that, too, for Amer- ican readers has an explanation which is not without interest. It is done only in game countries, and the object of the thorns Set up with great frequency in the fields is to prevent poachers from dragging them at night with nets. Wherever this studding of the fields with hawthorn stakes occurs it is proof that game preserving fs carried on in the neighborhood, and that the game- Keepers expect trouble from their inveterate enemies, the poachers. As one nears the larger towns, especially the towns which are great railway centers, it is easy to see how fond the English town Workman of the Midlands {s of a bit of land, and how in the twilight of the sum- mer evening he busies himself with his al- lotment. He 1s usually at work in his al- lotment by half-past six. After leaving work he allows himself about an hour to get home, take supper and smoke a pipe, and then off he goes to his garden patch. Oftentimes his wife and children go with him, and there they stay, all more or less at work, until darkness drives them home. The work ts not especially hard. It is done in a leisurely way, varied with a little gos- sip with the proprietors of neighboring patches; and where a field of fifteen or twenty acres is divided into these garden lots the scene on a summer evening is about as pleasing as any scene which presents it- self in a journey through the Midlands. It is curlous that these garden patch scenes are more common in the Midlands than in the north of England. They are seldom seen on the outskirts of the woolen and cotton factory towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire. They invariably occur, how- ever, in the neighborhood of a railway cen- ter in the Midlands, where a great rail- way company has established its locomotive works or its car factories. I think this is due to the fact that railway artisans and workmen are recruited mostly in the rural districts and transplanted, as it were, to the towns, while the factory operatives of Yorkshire and Lancashire are townbred men, with no strong attachment to the land. The English soci: sometimes condemn the allotment em. They argue that if a man adds to his earnings by working in an allotment in his spare time his employer will note his added prosperity and soon offer him less wages. But whatever there may be in this socialistic argument, the al- lotment system thrives In the outskirts of the large towns in the Midlands, and it cer- tamly adds to the picturesqueness and cnarm of a twilight journey across En- gland. SEES THE EGYPTIA AT HOME. In Hospitality and Politeness He Stands Pre-eminent. From Pearson's Weekly. ‘The Egyptian of today may easily be sur- passed in honesty, courage and the manlier virtues; yet in hospitality and politeness he stands pre-eminent. No Egyptian sits down to a meal without asking all passers- by to partake of it; during his thirty days’ fast every year his doors are open to all, no introduction is needed; to the poor he gives ungrudgingly. ‘Though allowed to have four wives, the Effendi is almost always a monogamist. Marrying early, he is, as a rule, a good husband and father, and fond of and kind to his children. To show the direction in which the ideas of marriage are setting, we may say that one of the first teachers in Mohammedan law In Egypt some time ago laid down this maxim, that the prophet has allowed four wives to any man who would engage to love all four alike, but as he had never met any one capable of doing so, he would rec- ommend one wife as the interpretation of the prophet s words. Indeed, the relations of the wife so resent a man’s marrying again that it is hardly ever done. In abstinence from drinking to excess the whole Egyptian nation stands a head and shoulders above us. The hospitality of the sheikhs, or village headmen, {s boundless, and takes the shape of feasts at which Athelstane might have presided and Cedric been entertained, and both found them- selves at home. We have seen men sit down to a banquet of twenty-one heavy courses, where a huge turkey was the seventeenth course; and the first course alone consisted of whole sheep, inside which was a goose, inside that a chicken, then a pigeon, and finally an egg, which last was presented to the prin- cipal guest, as containing the essence of all. ‘The weakest point of the Egyptian'’s arm- or is his lack of courage, and very feeble idea of what fair play means. An Egyptian Effendi, or man of the upper classes, told me with great satisfaction of a duel one of his countrymen had with an Italian, in which the Egyptian chose clubs as the weapon to fight with, and then disabled the right hand of the Italian by a sudden blow before the duel had begun. He actu- ally could see nothing to blame in his coun- tryman, but rather commended his prompt. ness in action. On the other hand, recent events in the Soudan have shown that the Egyptian makes a good fighting man, provided he has faith in his officers, and is not called upon to act for himself. He cannot take the initiative. ‘ A MALAGAS Y OATH. Interesting Ceremony When 8,000 Tanalas Swore Allegiance to France. From the Birmingham Post, ‘he Madagascar nail has brought par- ticulars of a very quaint ceremony which is reported to have taken piace in Feb- Tuary last at a place called Amboliunauga, when about eight thousand Tanalas ab- jured their allegiance to Ralvanarivo and swore allegiance to France. So far as appears, no Frenchman took part in the ceremony, the presiding officer being a native sub-governor of the istrict. The Tanalas had sworn allegiance to their former master by the God of the Christians, but they now asked to be allowed to swear allegiance to France by “‘Zanahary,” the god of their fathers, and in accordance with the ancient ritual of their faith. The ceremony began by a visit to the ancestral tombs being paid by the sub-governor and a representative of each village. The tombs were opcned, and from each was taken a small quantity of earth, which was reverentially collected in a basket. This sacred earth was then carried with great pomp to the market place, where the mass of the Tanalas were assembled. A canoe filled with water had been placed in the market place that morning. Into this the sacred earth was thrown, as were also a small quantity of native gold and a buliet. The sub-governor then repeated the oath, which was to the following effect: “If the ‘Tanalas rise against the French, may the bullets enter our stomachs, as this bullet has entered the sacred water; may the first bullet fired by @ white man kill @ dozen Tanalas. Let _us swear fidelity and obe- dierce to the French before our god, whom. we pray, O Zanahary, to utterly destroy those who do not think with us, and to fellow their descendants with the curse from generation to generation. Is that your wish, O Tanalas?” The crowd shouted its approval. Then the sub-governor, firing a blank shot into the sacred water, ex- claimed, “Let us swear, O Tanalas, to be devoted to France, contrary to the alle- giance forced from us by Raivanarivo! and the crowd replied, “‘We swear it.” The sub-governor then, with a cup in his hand, said: “May this water which you are abcut to drink rot your liver if you betray your oath; may thunder break the head of the perjurer, may the crocodile devour him as he crosses the river, and may thcse also who conceal their arms suffer the same fate, and may their de- scendants be devoured by the dogs of the forest.”. The sub-governor then drank some of the sacred water, and his ex- ample was followed by all the chiefs pres- ent and by the heads of the villages and the common people. After all this tmpos- ing ceremony France ought to be secure in the allegiance of at least eight thousand of the Tanalas, although their readiness to throw over Ratvanarivo is not an en- couraging omen. — THE HARMLESS RATTLESNAKE. It Does Not Always Strike When Given the Opportanity. From the Atlantic Monthly. I have seen a good many rattlesnakes— perhaps a hundred or more—in the Sierra Mountains, but I have never intentionally disturbed them, nor have they disturbed me to any great extent, even by accident, though they were oftentimes in danger of being stepped on. Once, while on my knees kindling a fire, one glided under the arch made by my arms. The last time I sauntered through the big canon I saw about two a day. One was not coiled, but neatly folded in a narrow space between two cobblestones on the side of the river, his head below the level of them. ready to shoct up like a Jack-in-the- box for ‘frogs or birds. My foot spanned the space above within an inch or two of his head. but he only held it lower. In making my way through a particularly tedious tangle of buckthorn, I parted the branches on the side of an open spot ani threw my bundle of bread into it, and when. with my arms free, I was pushing through after it, I saw a small rat dragging its tail from beneath my bur When he caught sight of me he ey angrily, and with an air of righteous in- dignation seemed to be asking why I had thrown that stuff on him. He was so small I was inclined to slight him, but he struck out so angrily 1] drew back and appr i the opening from the other side. But he had been listening, and when I looked through the brush I found him confronting me stili with a come-i pression. In vain I tried to explain that I only wanted my bread; he stoutly held the ground in front of it, and I was afraid that as he came nearer he might close in on me and strike before I could get away in such a tangle; so I just went back a dozen rods and kept still for balf an hour, end when I returned found he had gone. ————+ e+ THE NICARAGUA CANAL. Of Special Importance to the Pacific and Southern States. Fiom Harper's Magazine. Of great value to the people of the United States generally, the Nicaragua canal is a matter of special importance to the Pacific and southern states. The Pacific terri- tories, with an area of nearly 800,000 square miles, dependent on the Pacific ocean for access to the outer world, “imperial in ex- tent,” as Blaine called them, are of greater extent than Germany, France, Italy and Spain combined. Their extcaordinary growth need not here be dwelt on at length. Enough that, with only 6 per cent of the population, they pos- s 10 per cent of the entire wealth of the Union, while the railway mileage exceeds that of any opean Country, with the exception of France and Germany. The three maritime provinces, California, Oregon and Washington, are the rich and they are the most exposed to attack— containing 57 per cent of the wealth of the Pacifie states. The whole Pacific coast as yet, however, takes but an inadequate share—only 5.69 per cent—of the total im- port and export trade of the United States. The southern states will also, by means of the Nicaragua canal, participate largely in the development of the Pacific and the far east. In the south are combined the advantages of all the other sections, with- out tneir greatest drawbe and the re- markable progress achieved ‘there in the past dozen years will undoubtedly be sur- passed in the future. ————+ e+ In Jail for Debt. From the Pall Mall Magazine. The King’s Bench was the largest of all the debtors’ prisons. It formerly stood on the east side of the High street, on the site of what is now the second street north of St. George's Church. This prison was taken down in 1758, and the debtors were removed to a larger and much more com- modious place on the other side of the street south of Lant strect—the site is now marked by a number of w and very ugly houses and mean streets. In the year 1776 the prisoners had to lie two in a } and even for those who could pay there Were not beds enough, and many the floor of the chapel. prisoners; in additicn to the prisoners many of them had wives and children with them. There were 279 wives and 275 chiléren —a total of 1,399 sleeping every night in the rrison. There was a good water supply. but there was no infirmary, no resident sur- geon, and no bath. Imagine a place containing 1,399 persons, and no bath and no infirmary! Among these prisoners, about a hundred year ago, was a certain Colonel George Hanger, who has left his “Memoirs” behind him for the edification of posterity. Ac- cording to kim the prison “rivaled the pur- Neus of Wapping, St. Giles, and St. Jame: in vice, debauchery, and drunkenness. The generai immorality was so great that it was only possible, he says, to escape contagion by living separate, or by consort- ing only with the few gentiemen of honor who might be found there. “Other- wise a man will quickly sink into ¢issipa- tion: he will lose every sense of honor an? dignity, every moral principle and virtuous disposition.” a Vienna. From the Spectator. Here we have a proud, imperial city, rather disdainful of trade, aristocratic and easy-going, conscious of a long past, its rulers still animated with the conviction that they are the successors of Charle- magne and Otto, looking on Berlin as par- venu, on London as merely commercial, on Paris as half crazy. Excepting in the do- main of music, Vienna is not a home of art and culture, but it is a center of digni- ty and grace, and a ain caim air of superiority, which, however, does not of- fend. It is content to look on while other places explore and write and toil and push and strain; it stands on its rank,it can never forget its sixteen quarterings and its claims to high estate. Vienna is most interesting, perhaps, as the meeting place between east and west; where the fine gentleman rubs shoulders in the afternoon lounge along the Graben with the Bosnian peasant. The guardian of Europe's jent order, the center of a great and most interesting empire, the city of leisure and of a pride so lofty that it does not know itself to be pride at all— Vienna is both a charming city and an im- portant political center, as she will con- tinue to be, no matter what is the fate of the Austrian empire. seine Se Alcohol in Sticks. From the Philuwclphia Record. A new invention of great importance has just been patented by a German chemist Julius Norden of Aldenhoven, Germany. He has succeeded in hardening alcohol un- til it becomes a solid mass. This will in- sure a very much greater popularity for the employment of alcohol. It now comes in smal) cylindrical pieces, packed in pat- ent tin boxes, that can be used for cooking, lighting, heating and the various uses of everyday life. The solidified alcohol burns without a wick, can be blown out after use, and then hardens again within a minute. The dan- ger of explosion is absolutely done away with, and the neat little tin package, with its stick of alcohol, is always ready for use in the kitchen or bed room, on the toi- let table or under the milk pot, on the road or in the field, as a night lamp or going upstairs at night, VANISHING ISLAND Heligoland is Rapidly Disappearing Into the Sea. EVEN THE POPULATION 18 DWINDLING The Work of Disintegration Has Gone Steadily Onward. <_< MERE SPOT IN THE OCEAN ee Oe From St. Paul In 1890 the little Island of Heligoland, at the mouth of the Elbe, changed hands. b: ing made over to Germany in return for certain concessions in Africa to England The flourish of trumpets which accomp: nied this barter is not appreciated by al its new owners, for they consider they have had by no means the best of the bar- gain. At all events, the emperor took formal possession of it, and has ratified his ownership by rebuilding the church steeple Its roof is wooden, and painted bright green, Heligoland lies at the mouth of the Elbe, about five end twenty miles from the flat North German coast. Politi sally constd- ered, even within the present century, H ligoland has undergone some sweeping changes. In 1807 England took it from Denmark during Napoleon's continental system. Its harborage and wells were well worth the four batteries, the garrison, and the lighthouse the English erec' Changes in the Map. Middle-aged folks tn Bngland proba hardly realized this little alteration in the map of “British possessions” as they learned it. One wonders how many ene tions of German scho hildren, gone on to riper years, will have had the new 1 included in their geography lesson bef the place itself will have disappeared gether, for the polit hanges of | jand are as nothing in comparison wit physical vicissitudes. is crum! away into the s r around its recky idly than any other p under scientific obser g mor of the sam« ation, The Work of Ru Several great cetastrophes which dimir ished the island are recorded in The first was in 800 And so lately as 1 a channel of ten fathoms deep was form cutting the remaining portion Since then the work of dis: gone on at such a rate that and pictures of even sixty in two. gration has descriptions years ago ure quite misleading now. For instance, th “Monch,” that curious upstanding boul- der, had a companion, the “Nonr woich has wasted almost beyond recognition with+ in living memory. P' compared with views t otograph ken twenty year: shcw plainly how quickly the work of ruin is going on. Single columns now only are to be seen where arches were, one © of them having been washed ‘quite away These arches and the caves to which they sometimes lead are a picturesque element in the scenery cf Heligoland. The face of the sea cliffs is literaliy honeycombed with them. Heligoland, as a wise little island, makes the best of itself to its summer guests, who come here to lounge and bathe ana boat. Unterl d and Oberland, Heligoland is simply a slab of red mart, rising very abruptly about 200 fe ot the sea. It consists of two very distinct parts. There is the unterla a streich of strand on which is a cluster of hous Boats a steamers come and go, and passenge there 1 Th terland runs ciose up under one un- like cliffs of the island pr . a chit te steep for any ths to be made up its Communication with the sum mit, or oberland, is therefore by means of a staircase of 192 steps, divided into four fight his unique arrangement has been supplemented of late years by a huge lift Around the point to which these don the oberland are more are they to the edge of the cl d together in this one corner, th they suggest the fancy that dwellings once scattered over the whole surface of the is- lend have been swept hither like dead leaves by the wind, and that some have dropped over to find a resting place on the unterland below. houses, hudd On Their Own Resources, On the level plain of the oberland great fields of potatoes are planted, to provide food for the people in winter. They are then cut off from the mainland and oblig: to depend on their own resources. Often even before the visitors have left in au tumn there are storms that prevent the landing of provisions; then one must liv on_fish. The thrifty islanders turn their position to good account, and reap a harvest from the sea. They send quantities of fish t Hamburg, Cuxhaven, and other towns, to be sold or exch for the tu wood, or other nece $ not nativ Heligoland. The of Frisian de and, though thes they have kept their own old language, as well as their costume and customs. There are now only 1.80) inhab ling decrease. Sixty years a tion 40—and at one period of the English cupation it rose to 4,0. But as the whol? island me: $ than three miles circumference, one can hardly call it a attered population. A Ute Funeral, From Lippincott's. All night long the ceaseless, muffted beating of the medicine tom-tom had come to us across the hot, barren, alkalia flat all night long the dismal wailing of the be- reaved squaws and the lonesome howl of the masterless dog, crying like lost spirits, had come (> us out of the darkness, plain- tive and weird; all night long we had rolled and tossed on our blankets, spread upon the broad breast of mother earth, under- neath the silent, watchful stars; and now, as the first pink blush of breaking mo. began to revolve out of infinity into a new born day, we rose, unrefreshed and weary. A blood-red sun thru ing rays across the rugged pe he Book pla- teau; heat, already increasing, came steam- ing from the parched earth; all nature seemed aflame, and, as our tired, aching eyes sought what rest there could be found in the dingy green of the few s that marked the single v: fon to the erwise unbroken glare of whiteness, a strange, sad proces: 4d ftom them and wended its w ard us. As it approached we could ly. There were the men, ee the cortege pli patient, sad-eyed their faces b ch their hair disheveled, ments and covered with ashes were t favorite dog and horse of the dead warric the latter fully equipped as though res for a journey—and so he was; there was the corpse itself, borne, all bedecked » enshrouded, to {ts last earthly resting place, The women still walled, the dogs still howled, the heat still grew flercer, and we followed the little band. e- A Natural Fog Horn. From Harper's Magnzine. At the Farallcnes the erosive agents have worked with queer caprice. This rock ive ing granite, has been acted upon by the sea at all levels, and throughout the lo period whe. it has been rising out of the water depths. Through a long, narrow hole, slanting and communicating with the ocean, there comes at intervals a ter- rific stream of air, forced by the spasmodi heaving of the waves against the lower orifice. The government, which uses this island for lighthouse purposes, inclosed the ‘UPI end with the nozzle of a fox horn, and every few seconds there was blown an ear-splitting brawl, which was heara far out at ssa and above the din of the break- ing rollers. It was allowed to roar only in foggy weather, but tt was eccentric th that it would only sound at high tide. When the tide was low, although the weather might be very thick, the thing was silent, For lack of its warning a ship went ashore upon the island rocks, and then it was that the government abandoned its location on the wind hole and erected a steam siren, or mechanical fog horn, which has since very felibfully performed the necessary service