Kansas City Ledger du lieu suivant : Kansas City, Kansas • 5

ARE WE RETROGRADING? I am sure you can, Miss Cary, but I The old lady took up her knitting to-morrow morning, and bring ara home at soon as I can. Our- expenses will lw too heavy if we keep htm there." B. Mi BRAKE, Proprietor. KANSAS CITY. KANSAS.

A PARISIAN SWINDLE. How a Coahetlone Tailor Were Dw frauiled. Act I. A gentleman irreproachably dressed goes into a confectioner's shop In Paris, and says to the polite proprietor: "I want hundred and fifty of the nicest eream tarts you can make." "A hundred and fifty! That Is a pretty largo Do you want them at once?" "Within three hours at the latest" "I can have thoin ready at that time. Aheml It Is customary to ask a de don't know as you will whon you find what my terms are." "1 expect yon liars a large bin against me," replied, "iou nave oeen very faithful to my brother's case," and she took out nor pocketbook and placed hor linger 011 the clasp.

"Jiot any 01 jnnt sort 01 payment, he said, placing his large, strong hand over Jane's small, whito one. "Not that, Jane. Your love Is the compensation I want." The color came to the face of the little woman as she stood in the doorway. "What do you mean. Dr.

Crawford? "Just what I say. I want you, you, Jane Cary, for my wedded wife, for better for worse, lor ncner or poorer, In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'till death us do part." "Who a thought, jane, wnon you was making that new cashmere, that you was sewing on your weciaing Journey dress." said the mother, a week afterwards, wnen tne trunK naa ncen roopened, and Jane Cary was getting ready to go to Jacob's on her wedding tour. "Nobody knows what's before em, nobody. It the Lord doings, of course, but it's marvelous in our eyes." Susan Teal Perry, in Chicago Interior, EATING. The Mode of Satisfying the Appetite Id Different Countries.

With regard to the mode of eating, we English as a people certainly stand highest; and frequent as our intercourse with Continental nations now is, the latter still often express surprise at what they call the "elegant" way of eating peculiar to tho English. Much as we have borrowed from our neighbors d-outre manche, none of us would sure ly caro to imitate the Frenchman swathed in his napkin or, rather.young tablecloth voraciously devouring each course as it makes its appearance, and winding up by vigorously cleaning his plate with a piece of bread, and afterward swallowing the latter as a bonne louche. Nor can we, alas! say anything more flattering for their neighbors, the Germans. I recollect once dining with one of the ladies-in-waiting at a German court in her own private rooms. I nat- urallv besrun eating my dinner in the way I had always, been accustomed to do that is to say, cutting my meat, and carrying the piece to my mouth on my fork with the letthand.

My mend, on the contrary, as is usual among uer- man and French, people, cut' her meat into small pieces, then laid down her knife, and, taking her fork in her right hand, rapidly made the morsels disap pear. We had been thus engagAd for about five minutes, when she suddenly turned to me with a good-natured smile saving: "Pray don't take so much trouble to eat with your left hand. It would be a different matter if her Royal Highness were here. I have to eat with my left hand when in her presence, but it is very troublesome." I could not help laughing as I replied that I did not know how to cat in any other way. Strange to say, that very Royal Highness, although considering it the right thing to use her fork with her loft hand, 1 subsequently saw ae molishing with extreme zest a large roll which she plunged whole into a cup of hot coffee, and carried streaming to her mouth, biting oft a huge piece of it, and repeating this process untl the roll had entirely vanished.

London Urapitia CALVES. How They May Be Fed With Skimmed Milk at a Prollt. The calf can not be put in condition for sale in as short a time upon skimmed as upon new milk, but the time can be shortened by skillful feeding. Some of the errors most prevalent are: First, feeding the milk cold; second, feeding too much at a time; third, in feeding only twice per day; fourth, in feeding tho skimmed milk alone. The young calf is not prepared to take cold milk into the stomach and warm it up, When the calf is taken from its dam and fed artificially, care should be taken to imitate its natural diet as near as it can conveniently be done.

The milk should always be warm and, as the cream has to be taken off very closely; this should be partially replaced by a spoonful of boiled flaxseed. The oil in this seed is easily digested, and practically replaces the cream to a certain extent This flaxseed may be obtained in all the dairy districts, and costs but a trifle for each calf. It must be fed in small quantity, and it will keep tne call stomach in healthy condition. The calf should be fed three times per day at least, and the feeder must have his eyes open, and feed the calf but a small amount at time. Underfeeding is better than over feeding If the calf appears to require more, increase the food very gradually.

Close observation by the feeder is very important We know some calf feeders who regularly make their calves worth eight dollars at seven to eight weeks old. They estimate the skimmed milk at one dollar per week for each calf. And a skillful feeder, on this plan, will have his calves about as uniform as if they sucked their dams. Skimmed milk will bring an important return when properly managed. National Live block Journal.

D. IL Moffatt who is President of the First National Bank of Denver, an institution whoso deiKsits are over was approached by Ferdinand Ward about a year ago with a request for a loan based on promise of enor mous prolits. Air. Aloitat in speaking of it the other day. said: "Ward wanted $100,000, and said he could make for me 30,000 on it in sixty days.

I told him I didn't know why he should be so good to me; that 1 had never done anything for him. I guess he understood me, tor he went off. I never took any stock in the fellow. 'He was too white-livered. I never tie up to a man when I can see through his cars, as I could through Wards." Lucajo Jnbune.

Pencil marks are made indelible by washing them with well-kiramed milk diluted with an equal quantity of water. notion uuagcu work and began to pick up some stitches (the had dropped. The truth is." she continued "jane hain't never been nowhere. Always stayed right here and worked and tugged and too care 01 me. "If there is any one who deserves an outing It's your Jane," said Mrs.

Barker. "Everybody is glad site is going." "Yes, Jane earned a vacation, and a good long one, too," the mother replied: "Hut folks don't always get what they earn in this world, I've found out. Luok always does seem to go agin some folks." Don't talk that way, mother," the daughter replied, as she pinned a pat tern on to the piece of black cashmere and traoed out its dimensions with her scissors. "Don't you believe people's paths are marked out for themPv 9 "wen, sorautimes 1 ao. ane, ana then again I don't.

But we can't none of us understand the Lord's dealings wall us. "'God moves In a mysterious way Mis wnnricrs in nnrform.1 "It's time my dinner was going." Mrs. Barker said, glancing up at the faoe of the tall clock whichestood in one corner of the room. "I'U try to run in and see you again before you go. Miss Carv." Alter the neighbor went out jane Cary pinned the different pieces belong ing to the chosen pattern on to the long piece of black cashmere, one turned them around and upside down, all sorts of ways, to save the cloth, She was well used to such planning.

She had worked at dress-making lor nearly twenty years. She had had a great many small patterns of goods to deal with, and many customers, who knew she would make tneir small patterns go farther then they could themselves. A new urcss was quite an event in jane Cary's She was just calculating in her own mind how long it was since she had had one, when her mother said: Come to think of it, Jane, you haint had a new dress for over six years. You turned your black, alpaca and made it over three times. It looks real good and will do to wear to save this one for a Ions: spell, yet.

And that brown me rino you had dyed two years ago that looks a most like new. 1 declare its wonderful how nice they dye things nowadays. used to have our own dve-nots and color our dresses our selves when I was a girl, but we didn't get em to look as nice as the dyers ao now." While the mother was talking, the dress-maker's scissors were busy cut ting out the different portions of the new garment. Jane Cary was going to have an outing, and an outing in Jane Cary's life was as great an event as a new dress. The money to pay the traveling expenses was hidden away in their great-grandmother's blue sugar bowl on the top shelf of the china closet The same amount had' been deposited there for the same purpose a number of times before, but as Jane told her mother, "The unexpected exigencies of the times had occasioned a rush, upon the 'Blue Bank' and the deposits had to be drawn But now the financial outlook seemed to be a favorable one, "I won't make Jacob's folks ashamed of me," she thought, as she pinned the nieces together.

"If I can't go to see folks and make a good appearance, I'll stay at home. When you visit your re lations you want them to feel like show ingvou oil." The little dress-maker laid down her scissors, as she thought how proudly Jacob and his wife would say: "This is my sister, Miss Cary, from the feast. By Saturday night the dress was fin' ished and the new trunk was packed, for Jane Cary was going to start on the early train Monday morning. There was no settled minister at that time in the New England village, but the serv ices were held regularly every Sunday in' the church. When Jane Cary heard the bells ringing that particular Sunday morn' ing, it seemed to her as if they had never sounded more- sweetly.

She entered the church, just as the choi arose to sing the morning anthem. She was dressed in her-new suit, and all eyes were turned toward her as she walked down the aisle. Everybody knew that Jane Cary was going West the next morning to visit her brother Jaob. She was a great favorite in the village and her friends were so glad that she was going to have an outing. Deacon Brown read a sermon in a slow, drawling tone, and Jane Cary wondered why he should have selected such a dull, prosy one.

She could not get sufficiently interested in it to keep her mmd off from the prospective journey. She kept wondering whether she would get into the night train when she changed cars at Grand City, and whether her trunk would have to be re-checked. And then she remembered that she had neglected putting an extra pocket, inside her dress to carry her money in. Vividly before her mind's eye came the placard she had seen in the picture of the large depot, and the words printed in capital letters: of Pickpockets." When the service was ended, Jane Cary felt conscience smitten to think that she had allowed so many things to distract her mind in the house of the Lord. She began to imagine the possibilities of the train running off the track.

In the evening when she sat with her mother, hearing the messages that were to be given to Jacob's folks, there was a knock at the door. It was the boy from the telegraph office. He handed Jane Cary a dispatch, and as she took it in her hand-she trembled violently. It was the first telegram she had ever received. She opened it and read: "I broke my leg yesterday.

Come at once. Sam Cabv." She paid the boy the money to be collected for the message, and calming herself as best she could, she went back to the sitting-room. Tm not going to Jacob's, after all, mother," she said, quietly. "Not going to Jacob What on earth has happened now?" "Sam has broken his leg, mother, and has telegraphed me to go immediately to Deertield." "Broken his leg!" his mother exclaimed. "Well, I never did see aueh an unlucky fellow as Sam is! It's the strangest thing" I ever heerd tell of.

just as you was alreaiv to start, too! What are von going to do about it, Jane?" "Make another run on the 'Blue of course, and co to Deerfield Some KesiibilaoencM o( the Good Old Day of Our Father. The early settlers of this part of the country wera a hardy, hard-working class of The oouutry was heavily timbered and hard to cloar. The land when now was very produc tive, and good crops of corn and wheat were raisod. The corn was fed to hogs, and tho wheat was maikoted to the best possible advantage, sometimes being as low as forty cents per bushel, and hauled ton, thirty and even forty miles to market Farmers thought that they were getting rich fast whon they could get one dollar per bushel, and many a load was hauled forty miles on wagons at that price. Pork was very low.

1 romcmbor of Its being two cents per pound, dressed, and it was rarely, if ever, sold on foot. A few cattle were raised, which were sold by the head as low as a cent a pound and less. A lew sneep were kept, but mere was no particular account takon of them: they lived in the woods summer and winter, except at times of deep snows, when tney were fed a utile coarse hay or straw. Ihe wool brought from twenty to twenty-five cento a pound, but was mostly used for making blankets, coverlets and clothing for the family. It did not cost much to clothe a family in those times.

I remember that when pockets began to be put in red "wamuses," a great many objected to them from the fact that it took extra stuff and lining. Previous to 1840 but few sheep. had been kept but owing to the continued failure in the wheat crop, and low price of produce in general, a good many farmers were turning their attention in that direction. One great obstacle that met them was the want of summer pasturage and feed for winter. The land had become so reduced by continued cropping, that clover and timothy would hardly grow, and nave known two or three wagon loads of hay to be taken from a ton-acre field, which was cut with scythes and gathered with hand- rakes.

From 1850 to 1860 the country under went a great change. Land began to produce good crops of hay, and pasturage was more abundant In tho early settlement of the country nothing but bottom land was regarded as fit for meadow, and I often heard mv father wish he had some good meadow land on his farm. But he lived to see the day when he would not have exchanged his ridge land for the best low land in the neighborhood for meadow. Previous to 18G0 very few farmers cut their grass by machinery, the mowers in use being heavy concerns, which went by the name of "horse killers." There was great prejudice against horse rakes at first as it was thought they would not work except under the most favorable conditions, ihe hrst one I owned i did not try until partly through haying I had no misgivings about its work after ward. Light-running mowers began to come into general use about 1861 and 1862.

The war breaking out made harvest hands scarce, and in a few years almost every larmer had one. bince that time farm machinery has been regarded as a necessity, and those who have recog nized its imnortance are. as a rule, the men who nave made money and got along in tne world. Since the war the sheep and wool in terest has had its "lapses" and "coK lapses," generally being of a discourag ing nature, and some have given up their nocks in disgust, cut the sub stantial farmers in Eastern Ohio, as 1 class, are those who still give attention to sheep and wool. While there are here and there those who claim that the keeping of sheep has been a great injury to this part of the country, vet I can very confidently make the assertion that sheep and clover have been the principal factors in bringing about the great etiange which has taken place in the fertility of our sou, and the gen' erai prosperity of our farmers.

There never was a decade in the his tory of this part of the country when there were better crops of all sorts, or more substantial prosperity than from 184 to 18S4. thHMl farms, coiufort- able. dwellings and farm buildings, well- bred stock and general appearance ol thrift are to be seen on every hand. unto tor. country ucnucman.

The Turk. The vile Turk! The abhorred Turk Yes; he is not altogether nice. But Britons have at present great poverty of friends, and poverty makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows. This seems to be our fate whether we like it or not to fight again alongside of the Turk. How wo English execrated and threatened the Turk some six or seven years ago! How we patted the Russians on the back and bade them go iL I m.

uiiu puuisu uie xuussuimans, pravins' that God mio-ht with thm! We allowed ourselves to run wild with indignation at the so-called atrocit.es, as if the 1 ink had been monster blackening and vilifying the lives of surrounding populations, his innocent and gentle neighbors. We have since discovered that he, if not what we could wish him, is at any rate no worse than Montenegrins, bcrvians. Bulgarians, and even Russians. They are all savages together, but tho lurk is the savage who can be of most serv ice to us. It the Turk's good for tune that these things are so.

It is the irony of his Kismet Blackwood1 1 Mag attne. One of the most remarkable oils yet aiscovered is that found in the Ara-go basin, in Wyoming Territory. In a shaft put down on the east side of Bath Creek to a depth of twelve feet oil flows in of exceptionally high spo- ciiic gravitv. it is, when hrst exposed. of a brownish color, and can be cut with a knife like soft butter.

It grad ually turns black on exposure. It has little odor when it first comes from the shaft though what escape on the south side of the adjoining ridge has a sugnt pungency, wnjen it loses on ex posure, Uucago TrUmne, "It too bad. Jane, too bad. lou wore awfully set on going to Jacob's this tlmo, wan'tyouP" I ve loarnod not to bo disappointed at anything, mother," she replied, oatmlv. Bofore she wont to sloep she wrote In her diary: "Delays teach patienco and care teaches faith, and press of business makos us iook out lor minutes to give to God, and disappointment Is a special message to summon our thoughts to heaven.

If, when they all come, wo would seek not to run away from thorn, but to learn God's losson in them, we should soon leaye off calling thetn try ing." Tho next morning the villagers were standing in the store, the postollloe and In the street, telling each other that Sam Carv had broken his leg, and his sister Jane wasn't going West after all An old farmer, who beard the news as he was going into the postofllce for his man, sum: "Pity ft hadn't been Sara Cary's head. He lsn worth nothing to no body. He's so lazy that he wont do a good day's work once in a year. It's amazing strange mat sucn critters are allowed to live in the world to hinder and torment other folks, when there are so many that it seems as if you couldn't snare, nohow, aro taken out of it. It Tj II II beau ra tneoiogy, now, 1 ten you.

"I'm sorrv for Jane." said the post master, as he handed the farmer's mail through the delivery window. "She's had a very hard time, and she is always so patient and cheerful. I expect she helped her brother John get his start again." Meanwhile Jane Cary had started on her way to Deerfield, three stations beyond. She had unpacked her trunk the night before, folded up the new black cashmere dress, and pinned it carefully in a clean linen towel, and laid it in the bottom bureau drawer. "I'm glad to see you.

Jane: I knew you'd come," Sam as his sister came into tho room where he was lying. 'I've had bad luck again. It beat all how I done it. You know I was work ing for Captain Higgins, at the south end of tho town. Well, me and him couldn't agree, nohow.

He's dead set on getting nis help up at live o'clock in the morning, and I won' do that for any live man. I went on the mountain chopping, but its hard work, chopping is. and never had no strength in my arms, you know. I. was just going to throw up my job, when a tree fell on me, and here ber Jane Cary only said, "I am so sorry, bam." There was nothing else to be said She had advised and expostulated with Sam all of his life.

She felt that her efforts heretofore had been in vain, and that words in Sam case would only be wasted. Dr. Crawford, the surgeon, watched her as she quietly moved about doing such things as were necessary for her iniured brother's comfort. There are some people, and Jane Cary was one of them, whose nign qualities enaoie tnem to meet the contingencies of Wo calmly, and who have a clear vision as to the best methods of dealing with them. As the sister planned the removal of the patient that afternoon, and talked over the probabilities and possibilities of his case, the surgeon could not help con' trasting her strength of character with that of the weaki vaccillating brother.

"One of the women whom Emerson speaks of, who do not need to lean, but to clasp hands in the journey of life," was the mental encomium ho passod upon Jane Cary, as she stood before him. "Would it be convenient for you to superintend my brother removal person, Dr. Crawford?" she asked. "I can arrange to do so, if you de sire it. Miss Cary," he replied.

"I think it best if you can do so with out interfering with your duty toward your other patients," was her reminder. Sam Cary bore the journey well, bet ter than vr. Urawlord anticipated, but he had sustained a componnd fracture, and it was going to be a long pull, the surgeon said. Dava and weeks went on. 1 ho sew- ing machine's click, click, click, was heard from early morn until late at night, but the little woman who was its motive power, worked with a will and a thankful heart.

"In every mysterious dispensation of providence there was always great mercy, she said, and the unexpected early arrival of some of the city board ers had brought her so much business that the money necessary to tide Sam over his misfortune was already pro vided for. Meanwhile the patient sister waited on the brother, whose nature could not see anything sacrificial about her devotion. He was even very exacting and irritablet times, but this was borne with patience and in quietude by the nigh-mindud, noble woman who cared for him. Dr. Crawford came often and was very attentive to his patient Jane wished he would not make quite many visits; she dreaded the heavy bills that must bo presented in the future.

It was for this that the sewing machine kept up its tireless round of wheel, Sometimes Sam groaned because of its monotonous tones and wished Jane would move it to a remote corner of the house, or puther customers off until his nerves were stronger. Dr. Crawford was a bachelor. He had just'passed h'w forty-liflh birthday. He had not married because of that grave amid the clump of pines in the cemetery of his native village.

Twenty years before a lovely girl had been laid away to rest there, and tho light of his life had been buried in that grave. But now. another woman had crossed his path, a woman who eould clasp hands with him during the rest of his journey, a woman whom he could love and cherish as his own. SaYn had begun to get around on the crotches Dr. Crawford had brought him, and the surgeon said one evening as he bade him good-bye: "It will not be necessary for me to come here again professionally, Sam.

You'll be all right in a few days more." "I thank you very much. Dr. Crawford," Jane Cary said, a she followed him to the door. You have been very attentive to my brother. I would like my bilL I think I can settle it to-nieht" THE DRUID'S SACRIFICE.

A thou mind years, perhaps, ago, when Hrlt- Mln'i mountains roue Tbore never yit had' trod the foot of fierce Invading- nflK, When Oyinrlo chieftain led their band in freedom through the valos, And I'vmrlo bardx tliolr triumph tang among the hill of Walt-; When vlllnire harpers tuned their lyro with Joy that seldom oeaoeil. Whore all were hanpy and content, while iloeki and herds lricroased. There came a mc8e(ror In haste, who served the Druid priest, To bid the people all attend the greatest of their leant. Then gathered they from near and far to Mo- na's nucred Isle, Where lived the Oraoles beyond dark Me- nai'a doop dctile, And where tho mystio clrclo built of aaored Cromlech stones Had witnessed many a sacrifice, haard many a victim'! groans. 80 when the day at last appoared, In thou sands i-atherea ronnn, Behold the multitude arrayed upon the hallowed ground; Three pillared rings of mighty itonea around thA nltara went.

While leaf-crowned priests with watchful care the tires upon them kept; Tar out bevond the mountains rose, with nlnnd-nnnned summits free. And like a chanting choir was beard the an them of the sea. Then came the oak-crowned Druid priests, with slow and solemn trcaa, A white-veiled maiden with nor guards be fnrMtliem slnwlv led. While harps and roods, with sliver tongues, In swnet.lv solemn trills. Brought echoes of the death-song back In answers from the hills.

With garments, whlto as drifted snow and Slow majestic striae, The patriarch of the Druid chiefs was praying at her side. Then, as each watchor, stilled and hushed, bent with uncovered neaa, The patriarch, with reverent voice, the ea-wed mnndato read. Which told that she, their maiden choice, was beautiful of face, From every blemish free and clear, and filled with nvo.rr (Trace All this reported by those priests, the Are-selected three, Who watched he'r victim since the mam was rescued from the sea. Then came tho moment whon her form was lifted from tho ground; Her feet and lorehoad swift and safe upon the ftltar bound; Close-veiled and gitgircd In dumb despair up-on her likr she lav. As priests intoned their solemn chnnts and neoulo kneeled to Drav.

Then as a priest with rapid hand her gar ments tore apart, The patriarch turned and plunged the sword 01 aiorun inrougn aer ucun. There, as they watched with bated breath the fated maiden die, The patriarch priest first turned and looked into her orlAzinir eve: Then, as his form shook like a reed, bis features nale as snow. He fell upon the bleeding form, and with a snrioK or woe, Cried out: God, whoml have served, say this can not be truth. That this Is not the daughter who was stolen lnheryoutbi" Then, raining kisses on the face, so pallid now ftnn ftlr. The whilo her blood encrtmsonod deep his rotie and Bowing nair.

He called her "Winifred" once more, and kneeling softly there, Bent down his head upon her breast as if In silent nraver: The Druids spoke unto their chief, In accents sud and wild, But he, their patriarch, was dead as she his only onuu. They burled them with solemn rites, beside the moaning deep, There where tho waves which brought her home their restless vigils keep, And many a solemn chant was sung by white-robed Druid priets, And many a sacred oHeringmadeat festivals and leasts. Long since have passed awny those feasts, the Druids and their rites. The Cymric dynasties and power, tho wor-shiners and kniirhta: But still against that rock-bound coast the restless ocesn moans, While still unshaken stand the gray and an cient Cromlech stones. (And still tho Cyinril by their fires on winter eves Degune Their children with this legend old of Mona'i fc.

sacred islo. J. Edgar ones, ii Boston Post, JANE CARY'S OUTING. A Mysterious Dispensation Providence. of "You'll have to cut your cloth very savingly, Miss Cary, if yod calculate to get a good full dress out of eight yards of cashmere! "I know it, Mrs.

Barker, but I've planned it all, and I can have made up in this style by using a sham skirt, Miss Cary took up "The Bazar" and pointed to a figure on the pattern plate, "I was quite a while deciding whether IM have a basque or a polonaise, and then I was bothered to know whether Td better have the skirt box-pleated or side-pleated, but I finally settled on this pattern." "It will be very tasty, too," replied tho neighbor, "ana those pleats will be worn for awhile longer, I think, though the city boarders had some of their dresses made that way last summer." While Mrs. Barker was speaking she kept rubbing her fingers over the piece of Mack eashniere which was lying on top of Miss Gary's sewing machine. "I call that a pretty good piece, for the price, don't you, Mrs. BarkcrP" Miss Cary asked, as she took one end of the goods in her hands and held it up to the window. "You see it has a blue-black shade, and the filling is beaten up thick and firm." "It is an excellent piece, if I am any judge; but wkea are you going to start, Miss Cary?" "I hope to get off next week, while work is slack.

Next month, yon know, I'll be driven, far the spring sewing will come in then." "You'll miss tour daughter, Mrs. Cary," said the'aeighbor, turning to address the mother, who sat in an old-fashioned rocking by the stove. "Yes, but Amanriy Weils is coming t-o stay with me. and I'm glad enough have Jane go. She's been a trying get otit to her brother Jacob's for ten years, but every time she's made np her niHhl to go something ha happened to kep her home.

Last spring I had jmd wasn't tit to Ao anything iilxmt iha house for three nitihtha, and tlie spring before Kara was trader the weather and home here for quite a spell. When Jane laid her plans that fall to go, John bad his bad luck, and she thought 'twas more her duty to stay and keep ber money to help his with." posit on such orders say. ton francs." vertainiv, my irienu. iiere are your ton francs." Act II. About two hours later a gentleman, Irreproachably dressed, goos into a tailor shop across the way from the pastry cook's, and asks to be shown some overcoats.

He selects one of the nicest and asks the price. One huudrcd and wen ty-livo francs, ir." "Very well; I will take it. I have some money to collect at the confectioner's across the way. I presume you have no objection to let one of your young men come over with me to got it." "Certainly not A worthy man is my friend Mr. fun." Act HI To confectioner enter irre proachably dressed gentleman, now wearing an overcoat nd tailor young man.

The confectioner greets the for-, mer with the respectful friendliness due to a good customer. "Ah, Mr. Puff, I've called round for that one hundred and fifty, you promised to have ready for me at 12:30." "You shall have them in live min- "Very well, I have to go round tho corner to see a man. You will give young gentleman one hundred and twenty-live of the one hundred and fif-' ty. I will return and get the remaining twenty-five myself in a few moments.

"With pleasure, sir." Act IV. -rFive minutes later the con fectioner gives the tailor's young man 125 cream tarts, and a bill for balance thereon 21f. 25c. One minute thereafter a confectioner and a tailor's young man are scouring the neighborhood in search of an irreproachably dressed gentleman with a new overcoat Paris Figaro. 'm 'READ LESS; THINK MORE." An Opinion by a lawyer Which was as Valuable as Any for Which Be Received a Fee.

The late Charles O'Conor, perhaps the most profound lawyer New York City has produced, gave a piece of advice to a young man which is valuable as any legal opinion for which the dis- unguisneu lawyer ever reueiveu. a iwj. A lad wrote to him, giving a long list of books which he had already gone through, and asking advice as to a course of reading. Mr. O'Conor replied that "he had' not only not read, but had not known even by name one-half of the books his correspondent ap- peared to have read.

He would not, therefore, undertake to advise mm what to read, but he could safely advise him to read less, and think more." This anecdote comes from a recent number of the Century. The advice was not, however, original with Mr. O'Conor. In the Philadelphia Ledger some time since an older authority was quoted to the same purport Probably the same sound wisdom could be traced back to the time of the invention of printing. "Read less (of trash) and think more" has a pithiness which makes the advice all the more easy to keep in mind.

And following it would enable the "temperate" reader not only to think, but to remember more of what he reads. Remembering more would give a practical value to the ideas acquired and the facts obtained. Perhaps Mr. O'Conor's opinion on reading is to.be qualified a little by his practice. It seems that his reading was very much confined to the purposes of his profession.

No doubt this limit increased his wonderful efficiency in his legal pursuits. But it would be a great abridgement of mental freedom to restrict the reader to his specialty and forbid excursions outside of that. The mind is enlarged by a variety of topics, and there is scarcely any subject, however foreign to a thinking person's daily life', from which he may not derive some advantage. There is nothing in the way of learning which stands so much alone that it can not be illustrated by other and indeed apparently dissimilar matters. Still the caution holds good to most readers "read less and think more." Scientific American.

CARPETS. At) Interesting- Scrap of Carpet History. In 1755 English Axminsters were first made. But it was not until 1749 that a loom was constructed which would produce a Brussels carpet, and just here is an exceedingly interesting anecdote, which has been handed down from father to son as an inviolable truth: During 1730 and 1735 John Broom traveled through Tournay and Brussels studying the stitch which was then known as Brussels stitch. In Brussels, particularly, weaveia were at the time making a carpet named after the town the Brussels carpet Broom studied with much earnestness mystery of the' manufacture, and finally made the acquaintance in Tournay of a weaver understanding the secret He and this weaver immediately repaired to England, and near Mount Skipet Kidderminster, they put up the first Brussels loom, 1749.

They operated in absolute secrecy, but in time their modus operandi was exposed. Broom and his Belgian workman labored night and day, and it being known where their operations were conducted, some enterprising fellow climbed to the window and, night after night from his perilous perch oulside, he studied the operations of the mechanism within, until he was able to carry away in hjs mind a model of the Brussels loom. Then a second firm and several others soon came into the field, and in 1753 Kidderminster was doing considerable in the way of Brussels. To-day there is hardly anything else but Brussels made in Kidderminster. Philadelphia Carpel Trade Journal.

The Secretary of the London Swimming Club submits the theory that salt water is a cure for lunacy,.