GOLDILOCKS.
Goldilocks sat on the grass,
Tying up of posies fair.
Hardly could a sunbeam pass
Through the cloud that was her hair.
Purple orchids lasteth long,
. Primrose flowers are fair and clear,
Oh, the maiden sang a song
It would do you good to hear.
Sad before her leaned the boy.
“Goldilocks, that I love well:
Happy creature, fair and coy,
Think 0’ me, sweet Annabel."
Goldilocks she shook apart,
Looked with doubtful, boubtful eyes,
Like a blossom in her heart,
Opened out her first surprise.
The boy may clear his b: ow.
Though she thinks to say him nay,
When she sighs. “I cannot now;
Some again some other day.”
—Jean Ingelow.
THE ENGINE-DRIVER.
“Yes, sir. That old shuntin’ engine
that’s puffing an’ snortin’ like a
broken-winded old horse, could tell a
tale, if it wasn’t so short 0’ breath.
That’s the. very engine old John
Wright used to drive when I'was his
stoker- Let me see—I’ve been drivin’
three. year—aye, it’ll be ten year
come next September. He was a fine
figure of a man, was John. He stood
six feet one an’ a. half in his stockin’s.
an’ was broad in the shoulders, too
In his greasy peaked cap, an’ oily blue
jacket, he looked a giant.
“Was he an old man?”
“Oh, no; he’d be forty odd, I sup-
pose, but I was a young man of
twenty-three, an’ he seemed old, like,
to me. As I’ve said, he was a bachelor
an’, as far as I knew, likely to remain
one. There wasn’t much of the la-
dies’ man about John. But still
waters run deep. they say, an’ John
Wright had his littlesecret.
“About three mile out 0’ town, I
used to notice that he whistled three
times and always looked across a
couple 0’ fields, a bit farther on, as if
he were lookin’ for somethin’. I ask-
ed him once or twice what it was, but
he edged me off, an’ changed the'sub—
ject, so I didn’t press it. But I kept
my eyes open.
“It was early winter when I first
went on to stoke for John, an’, of
course, bein’ a goods train, it was gen-
eraly gettin’ on for eight o’clock at
night when we passed this partic’lar
spot, bound for Barnham, fifty mile
away. It’s ‘up bank,’ as I daresay you
‘ know, from here to Longbridge, eight
mile up the line, an’ we' never got any
great speed on until we’d passed that
length, especialy when we’d a heavy
freight. But all I could make out
for some months was the dim outline
of a cottage, that had an ‘upstairs’
window with a red blind. The cottage
lay a couple 0’ fields away. What
made me notice the red blind was that
as we passed. the window was always
suddenly lighted up.
“Aye, an’ so was John Wright’s face
as soon as ever he saw it. Such a
smi'lel—an’ he had a kind face, bad
old' John—an’ then he’d seem lost a
bit, as if he were thinkin’ o’ somethin'
as was good to think about.
"I chaffed John rarely about it, first
time I saw it, an’ he blushed—he did
indeed sir! Though his face was
grimy on the t0p, and copper color
under that, I’ll swear he blushed. But
he looked pleased an’ proud, for, by
that time, we’d grown such thick
friends, that I'm sure he didn’t mind
me knowin’.
“Then, bit by bit, it all came out.
John and her her, who used to be
pointsman at C ubb Junction, half a
mile farther up the line than the cot-
tage, had been lads together. John
had gone up for a ‘camp’ every Sunday
for many a year. He’d known Mary
Mathers since she was born, an’ when
she was a little lass he’d nursed her
on‘his knee, an’ told her he’d wait for
her. I dare say he meant it in fun at
the time, but, as she grew up, he knew
he liked to be where she was better
than anywhere else in the world.
That’s how he put it, sir. Then Tom
Mathers, her faither, fell ill, an’ .-I
learnt afterwards, an' I guessed even
then, that John Wright made his
wages keep four instead of one. Mary’s
father never worked again. He was
on his back for eighteen months, an’
then he died.
“An' then, you may be sure, John
was a father to the fatherless, an’ a
husband to the widow—as far as look-
fn’ after ’em went, at any rate—only
he wanted to be a husband to the
daughter, Mary.
“Mary seemed to make no objection.
Why should she? She’d never met
anybody she’liked better, an’ a finer
fellow than John Wright never walk—
ed!
“One Saturday night he says:
‘Harry, you’d better walk o’er wi’ ma
to-morrow.’
“ 'Walk o’er
‘where?’
“ ‘Why, to Mrs. Mathers’, to be sure.
I’d like you to know my Mary. An’
then you can tell me what you think
of my swetheart’. An' as he said it
that sweet, far-off look came in his
face, an’ I knew he loved that lass as
few lasses are loved.
“Well, I went; an' I wished at the
time I’d stayed away. It was love at
first sight wi’ me. an’ I felt I should
never, never be the same again. God
forgi’ me! but after that Sunday I felt
at times I hated John Wright. When
she stood at the stle, at the crosing
mitfivay between the cottage an’ the
signal—box—as she did every evenin’
from the very day I went wi’ John—
an’ waved her hand to him, bashful-
like, an’ he threw her a clumsy kis:
I felt I could ha’ knocked him eff the
engine.
“I fought again’ it—on’, you mi??-
wi’ you,’ I says;
. it, sir.
understand, I didn’t feel that way a! 1
._.- . "a- .. -4-._._._.4-..,__.- -_.... ...4 ..
the time, for we were good friends,
an’ no one would have seen a differ—
ence; but when he talked of her, in his
quiet way—of bein’ wed, an’ such-like
——it was like knives in me.
“Then he pressed me to go again
an’ spend Sunday at the cottage. I
put him off, but he wouldn’t take
‘no’ for an answer. So, whether for
fear of hurtin’ his feelings, or because
I couldn’t keep away, I can’t say, but
I yielded, an’ went. After that I
went several times, an’ each time I
got deeper an’ deeper in love with
John’s sweetheart, aye, an’ what
seemed worse, I couldn’t help knowin’
that Mary was troubled the same way.
But I will say this, I never tried to
make Mary love me, an’ never a word
of love passed between us, but,
sometimes, I thought I saw trouble in
John’s eyes, an’ then I vow to myself
to go no more. ' '
“One evenin’, in the early autumn
of that year, we were goin’ at as good
a speed as the incline would let us,
an’ just gettin’ towards the cottage.
John had sent me around to th’
front 0’ the engine with my oil-can.
an’ I couldn’t help lookin’ ahead to
see if Mary was standin’ waitin’ at.
the stile. Yes, she was there
as usual, right in front of us, for the
line curved to the right just at the
stile, an’ was hidin’ from view he-
hind a little wood. I could see her
print dress, an’ the same white linen
bonnet she wore when I first saw her
in the garden on that spring evenin’.
Oh, how my heart went out to her,
an’ how that old wicked feelin’ to-
wards John rushed through me, an’
made my nerves tingle from head to
foot.
“Mary had her back towards us—-
a very unusual thing—an’ I remember
wonderin’ why. Then the usual
three whistles sounded, short an’
sharp. ' She turned instantly, an’
threw up her hands like one demented.
We went thunderin’ down to the
crossin’ where she stood, an’ I saw her
eyes starin’ at me, like coals of fire set
in a face as white as chalk. She fas-
cinated me.
“Just then old John shut ofi steam,
an’ I heard him doin’ a thing he’d
never done aforee—reversin’ the en—
gine! All of a sudden Mary seemed
to wake up, an’ find a horrible dream
true, for I heard above the roar of
the train, the grindin’ of the rails, an’,
the shriek of the brakes/that had been
jammed hard down—I heard one
piercing scream. It was a word—my
name—‘Harry! ’
“Of course, all this happened in a
breathless second or two. Half a life-
time is sometimes squeezed into half
a minute, sir. I took my eyes from
Mary’s face as we passed her, stand-
in’ as if turned to stone, an’ I looked
ahead. Heavens! what a. sight!
Bearin’ down on us at a great speed
was an engine an’ tender—a runaway!
It was comin’ down the bank tender
first, an’ we were timed to meet at
the junction. I saw it all in a flash.
The train was jumpin’ like a buckin’
horse, an’, with my body all of a
tremble, I’d as much as I could do to
get back to the foot-plate.
“There stood John Wright, of
course. I seemed to see him, an'
naught else. He’d done all man could
do, an’ was standin’ stock-still, with
one hand on the lever. But it wasn’t
his stillness that made the tears start
to my eyes. It was the look on his
face. It made me’nearly forget the
doom to which we were rushing. I
can’t describe it. It was the look of
a man who has nothing left to live
for—whose hope had been suddenly
wiped clean out for ever.
“The instant he saw me his face
changed. He sprang towards me an’,
seizin’ me by the arm with a grip of
steel, spoke in a horse whisper that
could be heard above everything:
‘Jump off, my lad—you’ve time—you
can do it. Jump offi—for her sake—
she loves thee, lad—she loves thee——
for her sake. Harry—for Heaven’s
sake!’
“I said, ‘Nay, John.’ ”
“ ‘Quick,’ he says. ‘Harry! Harry!
Jump for your Mary’s sake;’
“I swung one leg off the engine—
life was dear—an’ prepared to spring
into the grass. Then a great surgin’
love for this man came over me, an’
I turned sudden-like, an took him by
the hand, an’ I says, ‘John, we’ll stick
together, an' die together—if it’s God’s
will—for her sake’. An’ he just gave
me that sweet .look, an’ stepped in
front of me, as if to put his great
frame betwixt me an’ death, an’ there
came a crash as if heaven an’ earth
had met, an’ I seemed to roll over an'
over, an’ then it felt as if the whole
earth had risen up an’ smitten me—
an’ I knew no more.
t t O t
“I woke from a troubled dream, that
seemed to have lasted a lifetime, an’
opened my eyes, half conscious, an’
not sure but I was still dreamin’
Then I slipped off again, an’ I remem-
ber thinking that the sweet eyes, that
mine had seemed to meet, were the
eyes of my guardian angel. An’ they
were, sir—for, when I opened my eyes
again, all the past came back to me
with the tearful face of Mary Mathers.
“I put my hand out on the counter-
pane, an’ she put hers gently on the
top of it. An’, believe me, sir, that’s
the only way I ever ‘popped the ques-
tion.’ We’d been through too much
together to need much fuss.
“ ‘Where is he?’ I framed my lips
to say. I don’t know whether she
heard, but she understood, for she put
her hand into her bosom, an’ drew
out a black-edged card, an’ held it
before my eyes, whilst her own filled
again with tears. I read: ‘In love-
ing memory of John Wright. who was
killed at the post of duty.’ "
“And you’ve been happy in your
married life? ”
“Happy! Havry isn't the
Ours is one ' ’
made in Heaven."
f s , - ~. I V
OL LL: 5...... -?
-... .._..__..,
WEEKLY ;\
:Y A. M. .g- 9
Major DeVaux stood on the step:
outside his club in St. James street,
drawn up as stiff as if on parade, unv
decided for the moment as to where he
should go. when he perceived his
brother-in—law, Sir John Persley, hur«
rying towards him, vexation and an-
noyance so plainly to be seen in the
expression of his face as to make
the major inwardly exclaim: “By
George!’ and call out at once: “W'ell.l
what’s amiss?” .
“Everytliing’s amiss,” replied 'Sir
John. “Here’s a regular kettle of
fish; Agatha insists upon marrying the
groom.” -
“Whew!” whistled the major be-
tween his teeth; “we must stop that.”
“Stop it——yes. But how? The fool
of a girl is in love with the scoundrel,
and has told her mother, most decid-
edly, that she intends to marry hm.
She is twenty-one, and her fortune is
her own. "And then the brute is such
a handsome dog. It’s enough to drive
one mad. It’s all my lady’s fault; she
would have me engage the fellow be-
cause he looked so smart on horse-
back, and here’s the nice result of her
folly.”
The major knitted his brows and
thought for a few moments.
“Ah,” he at length said, “we must
exercise a little diplomacy.”
“If you coerce her she’ll take the
bit between her teeth and bolt proba-
bly, and then where will you be?”
“Saints in Heaven!” exclaimed Sir
- John testily, “would you have us give
in to the girl and agree to the mar-
‘17! ' .
. ridge:
{ “Not at all; at least, only appear to
do so. Girls. like cats, must be
Estroked the right way, if you wish
‘ them not to use their claws. I'll think
the matter over, and call and see you
iand Maria this afternoon. When an;
i I most likely to find you in . nd
: kgatha out?”
“Any time; we’ll stay in for you."
True to his promise, Major De Vaux
’presentcd himself in Clarges street
lthat same afternoon, when he found
l Sir John and Lady Persley impatient-
l1y awaiting him.
l “Well, have you thought of any.
thing?" said his sister, jumping up to
greet him. “We are in the greates:
distress, and have decided to dismiss
Jorkins with a month’s wages,_ and
leave town at once with Agatha. I’m
sure it will bring my gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave, if this detestable
marriage takes place.”
The major smiled as he looked at
Lady Persley’s orange-colored wig.
“Pooh!” he said, “no need to. die yet.
I’ve thought of a plan. But, first of
all, no dismissing of Jorkins just now.
say nothing whatever to him against
his engagement, and take him into the
country with the horses, as a matter
of course. I have not the pleasure of
an intimate acquaintance with your
groom, but I presume his manners are
much like the manners of other ser-
vants, and what I propose is, that as
soon. as you get to Persley Court, you
ask him to dinner." '
“Ask the groom to dinner!” ex—
claimed Lady Persley, in accents of
horror. “Are you dreaming, Wilfrid?
I’m sure I’ll do no such thing.”
“Yes, you will, if you are wise," re-
turned her brother. “And what is
more you will ask the county to meet
him.”
“Publish our disgrace in that man-
ner?—never!" said Lady Persley, with
indignation.
“My dear Maria. Jorkins is a re-
markably good looking young fellow.
and doubtless on horseback in the
hunting field, where Agatha has chief-
ly seen him, presents a gallant appear-
ance. The girl’s head, like that of
most girls, is stuffed full of nonsense.
and Jorkins may have encouraged an
idea that he is above his apparent for-
tunes, or it may be simply a case of
calf love.
“Any way, if Agatha can see him
without his surrounding halo of noble
'horsemanship, at table, not knowing
even how to use a knife and fork
properly, she will be disenchanted and
disgusted with him, and break off
with him herself.
“So long as she only sees him in his
proper position, as her attendant
squire, he is quite handsome enough
to take any silly woman‘s fancy cap-
tive.”
So it was decided to follow the ma-
jor’s advice.
“And you will let me know the re-
sult,” he said, as he took leave of his
sister and Sir John, and went back to
his club.
“I’m sure I don’t know what to say
to Agatha,” remarked Lady Maria, as
soon as' Major De Vaux had quitted
the room, “for only last night I told
her she deserved a good whipping.
and I’d like to give her one. What
Would you do?"
“Well, women should know how to
manage women. I should say a mill-
the best plan.”
Thus fortified, Lady Maria left til..-
drawing-room, and went upstairs and
tapped gently at her daughter’s bed-
room door; for it was locked.
“Who’s there?” in rather a choked
voice from Agatha-inside.
“It’s only I, dear. Let me come in
I have something to say to you.”
As the key turned the door stood
open of itself, for as soon as Agatha
had unlocked it she went and three;
herself face downwards on the bed
Lady Maria went up to it and tools
the sobbing girl in her arms.
this estrangement any longer, it makes
me miserable. Your father and l
have been talking the matter over,
and if you will only promise to do
nothing rash or without our consent.
we will try and see if things cannot
be in any way arranged satisfacto‘
rily."
THi-j lilAJOR’S SCHEME
kissing and crying over her would lL-l
“My dear,” she said, “I cannot hear .
~onuamk«
,.
“0h, mother,” cried Agatha, clinging
to her: “how good you are. I am mis-
erable,_too; but I love him so.”
"Yes, dear, I understand,” said Lady
Maria with suchla grimace that had
her dau'ghter seen it she would have
put little faith in those overtures of
peace.
“If you only knew Cyril .better——-”
began Agatha. -
“Cyril! who’s Cyril?” returned Lady
Maria sharply. “Do you mean Jor-
kins?—’I thought his name was
James.”
“So it is, dearest mother, James Cy
ril; but we prefer his second name, it
is prettier—do you not think so?”
Poor Lady Maria could scarcely
suppress a groan, but anxious to end
the interview, all she said was,—
“Now, look here, my dear child.
you must wash your face and let Mlle.
l‘oinettc dress you in your prettiest
and come out for a drive. The fresl-
:lll‘ will do you good after all this 21c?-
tation. I think we have all hill
enough of town this season. and so
we will go back to the Court next
week and resume our old, quiet, hum-
;lrum life.”
Then Lady Maria kissed her and
.vent down-stairs quite proud of l.-.
liplomacy.
Agatha was very pale, and her face,
new disfigured by grief, looked derid-
edly plain. At no time could she lay
claim to any beauty beyond that 0;?
youth and a certain distinction. de-
rived from her tall figure and her
birth and breeding.
After this explanation with her
mother domestic afiairs went on more
comfortable, no special allusion was
made to her engagement, and by her
parents’ silence on the subject, she
naturally concluded that they were no
longer inimical to it.
This opinion she communicated to
Jorkims the first opportunity she had
of speaking to him alone, when they
had all gone down into the country,
apparently on good terms. .
Once settled at the Court. there was
Major de Vaux’s advice to be carried
wt, and here lay a difficulty.
“It is easy enough to make up a
dinner-party,” said Lady Maria to her
husband, “although most of our
friends are-still in: town, but how am
I to invite that wretch Jorkins? 1
cannot send my groom a written invi-
tation, he would boast of it at the vil-
lage ale house, and show it about
amongst the other servants; anyhow
every one of them, must hear of his
being asked to dinner. Oh, it is in-
famous of Agatha to: have placed us
in such a false position.”
“Let Agatha ask him herself, by
word of mouth.”
“l’Vell, that will be best, perhaps,”
returned Lady Maria, “but it’s dread-
ful altogether. Fancy having to sit
at table with the man—and smelling
of stables, too.”
“We shall survive that, my dear.
Anything is better than that Agatha
should give him to us as a son-in-law.
That would be a disgrace nothing
could wipe out.”
Then Lady Maria called her
daughter and told her to) invite her
lover. “Because, you see, my dear,
if you are going to marry him, we
ought to introduce him to. our friends
beforehand. He will so soon be one
of us.”
Agatha‘s message from her mother
was such a surprise to Mr. Jorkins as
to completely dumfound him, for, al-
though he had persuaded the girl to
marry him, he never for an instant
supposed such a marriage could take
place, unless he defied her parents
and ran away with her.
But modesty and a small opinion of
himself not being his most remark-
able qualities, he merely said,—
“Oh, that’s the way the cat jumps is
it? Well, I’m agreeable. I suppose
I’ll ’ave to get evening toggery.” '
“Of course,” said Agatha, “and
mind you look very nice, so- that I may
feel proud of my choice,” and the
girl’s plain face lighted up into :11-
most beauty, from the love that 5110116;
in it, as she lifted her eyes to him.
In truth he was exceedingly good
to look at, with a face that might
have belonged to Antinous. and at
small, delicately-formed. figure that
would have led one to suppolse. what
he had more than once hinted at, to
Agatha, that he was of noble blood or:
one side. ,_
“I mustn’t stay now,” said Agatha.
"I have to go out for a drive with
mother, and have scarcely time to put
my hat on,” for Jorkins would han-
detained her to ask a little more
about the invitation, the day fixed.
and who he was likely to meet.
“Blessed if I wouldn’t sooner feed
in the servants’ ’ail,” he said, “but i
suppose as Sir'John and my lady re
quests the honor of my company. I
must do the polite, too.”
The excessive incongruity of the po-
sition'did not seem to strike Agatha
or her lover. He was too conceited,
and she too much in love with him.
Jorkins having informed the tailor
who made his liveries that he required
such an outfit as a “regular swell"
would wear in the evening. appeal-ml
on the day of the dinner. faultless];-
dressed, and looking so distinguishe.
as to induce Colonel Despard to as:
who he was.
“Don’t know his face. Very iii.-.
Lord Henry Erie, only better looking.
“That young fellow. 0h. Cyril,” 1.
plied Sir John, when luckily for hi:
dinner was announced. Jorkins w.
told to take in Miss ‘Bolton; and, e
rcpt that he offered her the wrm
arm, did not commit himself in a1
way at that early stage of the eve
mg.
Lady Maria had purposely so .r
ranged that Agatha should sit 01),.
site him and thus be cognizant of a
that went on. At first he was very sin».
and awkward, not nddressxhg a way,
to his partner, and trying nervously t
imitate the manners of those aroun.
him. ,
ickzni
But after a while, :2; the butler
ill-2d his glass and in: cznptimi' i:
Igain and again. he became pot-v.12?
mt. “'lly should he not enjoy hint-elf _
’lothcr 2.; =3 .
ike anv other man?
EWGHS! He was goingr to marry thi-
heiress, and a fig for Sir John and 1113'
ad-y. .
With such feelings combined wit’.
Dutch courage from the quantity of
wine he had taken, Mn Jorkins. jusl
)efore the ladies quitted the dining
'oom, threw himself back in his
:hair, and thrusting his hands into lii“
)ockets of his trousers, exclaimed in
i loud voice,—
“Well, my lidy, this ’as been :
iownright, regular feed, I must say
llld I think therefore, as it is eve,
rne’s duty to thank the givers of i'.
ind so, my lidy, ’ere’s yours and :h'
[ohn’sjolly good ’ealth."
Next day a telegram addressed it.-
lIajor the Honorable Wilfrid (.9-
i'aux was received by that gentle-
nan, containing the following.—
"Jorkins dismissed with a month‘:
sages.”
HE WAS INTERESTED.
Sui the Engineer Did not Appreciate His
Desire to See the Boiler Burst.
Lord Rosse, the builder of the fa»
nous Rosse telescope, was not only a
wicntist but an expert mechanic. and
.vas fond of watching and examining
lll kinds of machinery. One of his pe-
tuliarities was an absence of neatness
n his dress. He seldom looked to be
.vhat he was, and many amusing mis-
:akes arose from this habit. One day
.vhile visiting the engine room of a
arge manufactory he suddenly became
ntcnsely interested in something he
law, and with an apprehensive man-
ner he pulled out his watch and looked
from it to the engine. The engineer,
1 burly fellow, unaware of the distin-
guished visitor’s fame, came up and
growled out:
“Well, what's up with you? What
tre you shaking your head for and
poking at your watch? See anything
no bother you ?”
“Oh, no, nothing to bother me very
nu’ch. I was just wondering how
nany minutes would. pass before that
)oiler would explode.” ’
“Boiler explode! Say, you’re crazy!
You get out of here right away._'
Iome-l'"
“0b,. let me stay; there‘s a good fel~-
ow. It will take only a few minutes;
more while that screw is loose there
iefore she goes Off.”
The engineer to humor his crazy man
glanced: at the screw and gave a; yell.
With a; jump he was at it, tightening
t like a madman. When he had fin~
shed, the perspiration stood out on his
arow in beads.
“Why didn’t you speak sooner?" he
lemanded, after his fright was over.
“You didn’t give me much Chance,”
'eplied Lord Rosse; “and; besides, I
never yet had an Opportunity to see a
wiler explode.”
PROPOSED COLONY OF WIDOWS.
1 Farm Given to Each of Them Which
Must be Cultivated Without men.
Mrs. Hattie N. Bemis of Arabia.
Nob” owns a large tract of' land in
iorthwestern Nebraska, which she
says she intends to give to twelve de-
terving widows of Northwestern
farmers. In return she will require
:hem to cultivate it Without male as-
;istance. She says that she will start.
:hem out with all the machinery they;
reed, a sufficient number of cattle?
l
aorses, swine and poultry to- serve asi '
1 nestegg, and money to last them un-
zil the first harvest can be disposed of.
She admits that the climate is dry,
wt she proposes to instruct her wardsi
n the operation of the Campbell sys-‘i
:em of soil culture, by which method
aXperiments have proved that the;
:ainfall of the section is sufficient to?
nsure bountiful crops. The nearest;
:he women will be allowed to come to!
lealing with men is to sell their crops}
:0 them. If Mrs- Bemi's should learn?
that a farm hand of the male persua-l
lion has been employed about
)remises the farm will revert to her.?
Any member of the community who.
narries will also forfeit her title toi
share in the property—Chicago Rec:
)rd.
WOUNDED HEARTS HEALED.
the Organ Laid. Bare and Given Same
Treatment as Any External Wound.
At Berlin :1 day or two ago Herr Re-
in, of Frankfort-on-the-Main, aston-
shed the members of the Surgical
Zongress by recounting his experiences
n the treatment of wounded hearts.
it has always been held that ninety per
:ent of such cases must prove fatal,-
leath being caused either by shock or
9y the flow of blood into the pericar-
lial cavity, whereby the heart’s action
s gradually brought to a standstill.
Elitherto no serious attempts have been
made to save the patient’s life. Herr
Relin, however, conceived the daring
ties. of applying precisely the same
treatment that would be used in the
ease of an external wound. A man
was brought into the hospital sufiering
from a stab in the heart. He laid bare
:he organ, and succeeded in checking
the hemorrhage by means of a suture.
The patient made a capital recovery,
ind was produced before the congress
dive and well.
How City Sparrows Get Country Luxuries.
Each day at the Union depot when
:he trains pull in under the sheds a
lumber of the little sparrows that
make their homes about the sheds fly
lown and hop and flutter about over
:he pilot of the engine, chirping in
great glee as they find grass seed and
ather morsels suited to their appetites
iying about the crevices of the pilot
that have been picked up as the train
;ped through the country.
They do not fear the presence of the
mgineer, and act as if they had full
License to inspect each engine as it
zomes in.——Kansa_s City Journal.
Suggestions that Emulate nomflPenl of
Bicycle Riders. _
A department store in New York re-
at $50 in quantities to suit.
is hard on the spokes and tires, and
the step mount is preferable for that
reason.
New York has followed the lead of
other statesand prohibited wheelmen
carrying children on their bicycles.
It is a dangerous habit that should be
stopped everywhere.
Niagara. is the first county in New
York to adopt a bicycle tax. The new
side-path law went into effect April 3‘
It taxes bicycles firty cents annually
Russia refuses to allow wheelmen to
form a league, such as we have in this
country. The Czar and his advisers
are suspicious of all leagues, believing
that they will eventually be used to
promote political conspiracy.
The chainless bicycle, which was ex-
pected to cut a big figure on the mar-
ket this season, and in a measure rev-
olutionize riding, has not yet material-
ized. A few chainless wheels have
been put out, but the demand for them
must be small, as only an occasional
rider is found using them. It is
known that some of the leading man-
ufacturers are now at work upon the
chainless type, but it is not their in-
tention to put this pattern of wheel
upon the market before ’98.
It is noted that when Zimmerman.
outraced all comers, 66 was the ac-
cepted gear. From this the gear was
gradually raised, until now the ordin-
ary road rider must have 70, and racers
are satisfied with nothing less than 80.
As usual, the wheelmen are running to
extremes, as they did in the matters of
light wheels, drop handle bars, road
racing and searching. There will be a.
reaction. A bicycle for all around use
is spoiled by too high gear, and cy-
clists will come to this conclusion
eventually.
The attempts of the' big manufac-
turers to maintain a standard scale of
prices for high-grade bicycles this sea-
son has proved futile. The sale of
medium-priced wheels last year served
to increase the demand for cheap bicy-
cles. A well-known dealer,,in a talk
with a New York Sun reporter, stated
that his firm, which is handling a fifty-
dollar wheel this season, is unable to
supply the demand. He says: “The
big manufacturers. refused to consent
, to a reduction in prices. The result is
that local agents of. the various one-
hundred-dollar wheels are compelled to
but prices. I know that prospective
fpurchasers can, without trouble, select
'any bicycle catalogued at one hundred
dollars for eighty dollars cash, or per-
haps less.”
Savage Queen—Well, my cycling cos-
tum: may not be exactly do rigner, but
.' there’s one thing abmt it—I don’t have
to wear any mud-guards when I wear
I it!
‘ Lo, the poor Indian, does not take
.'readily to the wheel; and while we
e have Indian horsemen,
foot-runners,
:baseball, lacrosse, gel! and polo play-
'ers, the Indian bicycle expert has yet
ito make his appearance. In North
”Dakota. the other day, an ambitious
redman traded a horse for a. bicycle,
i and immediately 'set about learning to
ride. He had the usual experience of
beginners, and plowed up the prairie
{a half dozen times with his'face, but
‘ finally he got the machine under way,
-to his great delight. He did not no-
tice, however, that he was going down
grade on the road to the river, and
when this fact became apparent, he
had lost all control of the wheel. The
consequence was, that wheel and rider
lplunged into ten feet of water, and
' when the Indian emerged, dripping and
angry, he wanted to trade the bicycle
for any kind of a pony.
A WORTHY CAPTAIN.
"\Iap the pumps!” the captain cried;
dis clear voice echoed far and wide.
While swiftly flew the crew to place.
A nd pumped at'an amazing pace,
(1 only ceased their labor when
The tandem tires were filled again.
" She—Why does that piano sound first
high and than low, when .Miss Wilson
plays it?
.i He-Wcll, you see,_she is'learning to
ride a wheel and uses both pedals from
force of habit.
5“. .. .-.. . .-..~..- .._..-....,.. _. “2' .‘c
ce:‘.ly advertised Columbias, ’96 mOdel
The pedal mount is graceful, but it-
'4
Norwalk Chronicler