\
Local News.
Michael Henry, died at his home on .
River street. Mondayyevening.
Dr. T. Crosby’s wife and two children
I .
have arrived in South Norwalk .
l l“; TOMMY SPINK’S EARS.
Wilbur M. Waite and family :ave l
leased a cottage‘on Bayview avenue.
. Clarence Cram of East avenue con'
templates a trip to Montreal at an early
date.
Charles Hubbard, chef at the Knob,
will open for the season- on Saturday,
May :27. , ' ' _
Mrs. D. H. Delevan of Samford is vis
iting Mrs. William E. Dann, of France
‘ street. ‘
Edward Street, the dry
annou’i :es thit he will retire from.
goods man
business.
Rev. 'l‘. K. Noble is expected home
from his Porto Bican trip the last of
the. week. ’ .
Mr. and Mrs. Andrew J. LeCroix of
Bridgeport, were guests over Sunday
of Nrrwalk friends. ‘
Mr. and: iii-sh Gould Randle and
daughter, of Winnipauk, have been
visiting in Newark.
Mrs. William Davis, of Hartford, has
been visiting Mr. land Mrs. Patrick
Mulvihill, of Washington street.
Mr. and Mrs. Frederick E. Brady of
New York, are visiting their mother,
Mrs. Louise Brady of Berkeley street.
Capt. Fred {Pei-kins, who has been
visiting Commodore Burr Smith, re-
turned to New York on Monday.
Miss Ettai-Carter of New York is a
guest of Miss Mai Higgins of West
avenue. '
Michael O’Brien of W'ood street, has
found his horse which wandered away
last Saturday. It was at Sammis’ liv-
ery stable in New Canaan.
Miss Mason of New York, is visitsng
Charles Aisthrope of Riverside ave-
nue. ‘
Mrs. F. .J. Heirlorn of Stamford, has
been visiting Mrs. Harry Bussing of
this city.
The Norwalk club building has been
draped in mourning on accounn of the
death of Edwin Clark.
I Mr. and Mrs. W. P. Smallhorn of
South Norwalk, have been visiting
James Smallhorn of New Canaan. ‘
Mr. Parsons and Miss Lottie Mabel
Squires of Bethel, are visiting relatives
in this city.
The pupils of Mrs. Lillian Sherwood-
Newkirk will give a song recital in
Lockwood’s Hall. Thursday evening,
June lst. ' , ~
Mr. and Mrs. Frederick W. Gorham
and daughter Helen, of Katonah, N.Y.
were Sunday’guests of Mr. and Mrs.
E. E. Gorham of East Norwalk.
.;.,...,_.._)«. ~..,
Miss Ida. James, of New York, has re-
turned home after a. visit to Mrs. J.
S. Morgan of Cove street.
. ’Iiss Alice Stocking of Georgetown,
has been a guest of Mrs. W. F. Bryant
of East avenue.
Mrs. Rebecca Knapp of West VVash-
ington sweet, is entertaining Mrs.
Elizabeth Bower of Quebec.
J. H. La Pearl’s Great Allied Shows
will exhibit in town on Tuesday, May
30.- '
Robert Knapp, 3. Stamford brakeman
has been promoted to baggage master
and transferred to South Norwalk.‘
Robert J. Lee baggage master,on the
tamford ti aim, has been transferred to
he South N orwalk train and will
, novc his family to that place.
Albert D. Saunders, formerly of
south Norwalk and recently of Darien,
nd Miss Emily Morrell, of Springdale,
ere married in Pound Ridge, Suhday
fternoon.
Dr. W. L. Weed of \Vashington
'treet, is expected home Saturday from
n extended sojourn in New York state
hich he was forced to take for the
enefit of his health.
Rev. William Maher, D. D. an-
ounced Sunday at St. Joseph’s church
hat the proceeds of the bazaar lately
.eld by the society were about $300,
ver all expenses.
The little daughter of Mr. and Mrs
liver B. Jackson was baptized at the
ome of Mr. and Mrs. Charles C. Betts
' on the Green Sunday, by the Rev.
harles M. Selleck. The child was
i tamed Olive. The sponsor’s were Dr. J
"‘. Gregory, Miss Ellie Land and Miss
, ally Betta. ‘ ' -
The committee upon the Children’s
i ay exercises to be held at the Nor-
; alk Methodist church the first Sun-
; y in June have decided to carry out
e exercises this year on the same
es as those of last year. The Sun-
); y school will commence to rehearse
l e special music next Sunday.
A special meeting of the First Con-
' egational society was held, at the
‘urch, Friday evening. when it was
’ cided to sell the old parsonage, ad.
ining John S. Seymour’s plqce, on
st avenue. Edwin;0. Keelcr was
thorizcd to make the sale.
The New York, New Haven and Hart
rd railroad company are sending out
raining car. This car is used for the
rposé of teaching employees of the
ad the different manner in which
e air breaks now generally used by
e company can be _mnnaged to the
l
l
l
l
l
l
I
i
5
l
l
stadvantage. . 1
- _ . - /
' \
desk and when the girl-had ~taken It be
I
Tommy Spin]: was a boy
». Who brought bushels of joy
To the hearts in the sleepy 01} school.
But 'twas not his fine looks
Nor his liking for books. ‘
For he stood at the foot, as a rule.
But Tommy was blest
- Above all of the rest
Whom I knew in those jubhant yearn.
" For-in some funny way.
But just how I can’t say.
He was able to wiggle his ears.
The lazy old clock
WOuld be dreaming, "tick-took,"
And the room quite as still as a mouse,
When some one of the crowd
W’ould dare snicker out loud _
And arouse all the rest in the house.
Then the teacher’s command ,
Would be “Hold out your hand!"
And some one would shed afew tears.
And all just because, ‘
Spurning,r Nature’s set laws,
Tommy Spink chose to wiggle his ears.
His scalp, so he said,
Was too big for his head
And he rolled it about as he willed.
While his ears, to and fro,
So grotesquely would go.
You would laugh though you knew you'd
be killed.
And to this very day,
W'hen my skies are a gray,
There is one recollection that cheers,
' As I think, with a smile, 3
With what innocent guile '
Tommy Spink used to wiggle his ears.
Oh, the years have been long
Since I left the glad throng
I loved in those happier days;
They have passed fromgmy view
"All those-friends whom I knew ,
And are threading life’s devious ways...
All is fading, I find,
Yet with pleasure my mind
To that one youthful picture adheres,
And from out the dim past
I'll recall to the last
How Tommy Spink wiggled his ears.
—Nixon Waterman, in L. A. W. Bulletin.
unanwnnkkwmmvsmmwam
. For Nothing Per Cent. ’i
I
W fiffififi‘ififi’cfifilfifiifflififiifififiifiifififiFE
364% 2’6
HE house in which Mr. William
Johnson carried on the business of
money lender and financial agent was
in no way different from those sur-
rounding it save that the downstairs
front window bore the legend “Loan
Office" in large block letters op a white
ground. A quiet, orderly, middle-aged
man was Mr. Johnson, and people who
met him in the street and did not know
him would have taken him for anything
rather than a man who put out his
money to usury. ‘
Certainly there was nothing of the
Shylock about him as he set one spring
morning in his dingy office over a. much-
thumbed account book. He was a tall,
spare, loosely-built man, with a pale
face and a. thin, straggling crop of
beard and whiskers that always looked
as if it had grown in patches. Usually,
when he was not talking to his clients,
he carried a quill pen in "his month;
there was something in thishabit that
gave him the appearance of an ab—
stracted poodle carrying a stick.
. Mr. Johnson was deeply engrossed in
the consideration of a certain entry in
his account book when the door of the
loan office opened very suddenly and
set the bell ringing with sharp dis-
sonance. He heard a light step in the
little lobby, which was partitioned off
fromthe rest of the room. For a mo-
ment he did not answer the summons of
the bell—it was never wise to be in too
much haste to welcome callers. But
presently he rose and opened the door,
the quill pen still retaining its hori-
zontal position in hismouth. He lifted
his eyes carelessly from the little swing
counter to the person who stood behind
it. He was not easily surprised, for he
had seen many strange things in his
'time, but what he now saw surprised
him into a vague, uncomfortable si-
lence. ~
Behind the little counter stood a
young lady—nay a girl—of some 18 or
“WHAT AMOUNT DO YOU WISH TO
BORROW?"
2
19 years, fashionably dressed, evidently
of good position and palpable refine-
ment. Her pretty, fresh face, revealing
itself to Mr. Johnson’s astonished eyes
from beneath the ravishments of: a
much beflowered picture hat, seemed
strangely out of keeping with the
dingy color of the little lobby.
“Oh-er—ye are Mr. William John-
son?” she said. ‘
“Yes,” answered. Mr. Johnson.
“You—er, you—lend money, don’t
you?" ‘
“Yes,” said Mr. Johnson again.
“I—I want to borrow some money,"
she said, looking out 'of half-averted
eyes at the money lender.
Mr. Johnson's first impulse was to
stretch out his hand for one of the ap-
plication forms which stood ready in a
small box on the counter. But upon
reflection he lifted the swinging shelf
and. asked his new client to step inside.
When she had passed into the office he
- closed the door and joined her and from
sheer force of habit he restored the
qu'ill pen to his mouth. The girl saw
the resemblance to the abstracted
poodle..and a smile rippled over her
face. Mr; Johnson did not observe it;
be indicated a chair attbc side othls
l
l
) ,
her. .
“What amount did you wish' to, boy.
row, ma’am ?” said Mr. Johnson.
“Oh—ah—well. £20.”
“Now—” said“ Mr. Johnson. “I sup-
pose you could furnish good security?” '
“I thought that. you—it says in your
3ndvertisement, you know, that you
lend money on borrower’s note of hand
clone—I think that’s how it’s put, isn’t
it?—and no inquiries, and no securities
-—-isn't that it?"
“To approved borrowers—yes," an-
swered Mr. Johnson.
“Oh!" said the girl.
- you—"
“We don't lend money without se-
curity." said Mr. Johnson. “Of course.
if we know the party, and know that
.it’s all right. and safe, why, of course,
in iliat."case—” ~
“I see,” said the girl." “Yes—of
course. you don‘t know anything about
me. flow silly of me! I thought one
had just to come and get the money
and sign .a paper or something.”
“The girl looked up from her parasol.
with which she had been tracing im»
aginary patterns on the floor.
“Perhaps I‘d be! :rr tell you all about
it.“ she said. Of course, you won’t tell
anybody. will you?“
"Never divulge professional secrets,"
said Mr. Johnson. .
“Wei . l want to borrow £20 to buyia
bicycle. There!” said the girl, with a.
’ decisive lap of the parasol upon the
floor. “You see, I’ve spent everypenny
of my quarter's allowance, and there’s
still a month before i‘ve any more due
-—:1nd I simply musthave that bicycle,
and I looked over all the advertisements
about money, and I saw yours and so I
came to you.”
“MightI inquire what name, ma’am ‘2"
said Mr. Johnson.
“Oh. I‘m Miss Lattimcr—of course,
you know my father—Mr. Robert Lat-
timer?"
“Certainly,”- replied Mr.
more astonished than ever.
doubt that he’d buy you a bicycle now.”
“No. .he won’t. He thinks £200 3.
“Oh! Then
Johnson,
“I've no .
-.....,....... a... ,. —-*---~~_-~<w'."
()4 Happy Hollow /
‘Bear Hunt
. ‘By ‘Rufas gift-Lain fields.
A.
l
‘an ideal little poet's valley,
nestling in the mountains of ”East
Tennessee, and surrounded by splen-
did mountain ranges. The name
was imost appropriately given to
that hollow,. which was happy in
fact as in name, where, in com-
pany with my boyhood's boon com-
panion, Plato—a great ugly brin-
dle cur dog. as true and faithful as
dumb brute ever was—I have had many
an exciting boyish romp and ramble
in the days long gone.
One morning in the early fall of 1851,
“ HAPPY HOLLOW“ was on? home,
bit hunt in the upper end of the H01-
low, I had an experience, which I am
in no. 'danger of forgetting, until life
itself is forgotten. It was my four—
teenth birthday, and my father had.
presented me that morning with ailong-
coveted treasure in the form of a shot-
gun. It was a single-barrel, muzzle-
.loader concern, and would doubtless be
considered quite antiquated by boy
friends of this advanced age of ‘the
breech-loader and the hammerless. At
all events, it was entirely up to date.
then, and I am able to recall few
prouder, happier moments of my life
than when that gun—I have it yet—-
first came into my possession. On the
morning in question I had it on my'
shoulder, feeling like a veritable Na-
poleon Bonaparte going forth to con-p
quer the world.
The rabbits must have heard the
news, however, for, hunt as he would,
o-ld Plato could not siart a single one
of them. They were ordinarily plenti-
ful enough.
At length, weary with walking, I sat
year quite enough for a girl to spend.
No. I shall have to buy my own bicycle."
Mr. Johnson took the quill out ‘of his
mouth and scratched his head with ihe
feathered end of it.
"I'm afraid your father wouldn't ap-
prove, nia’ain—,” he began.
“Oh, he’s ,not to know, you know.
This is a little deal just between you
and me. After all, it’s not getting
things on credit, is it? Because the
money will really be mine when you've
lent it to me, won’t it?”
“Ye-es," answered Mr.
“Ye-es.”
“That’s all right, then!” said Miss
Lattimer, triiimphantly. “Well, have I
got to sign any papers or anything, Mr.
Johnson?" ' ,
“It is usual to make inquiries before
completing.” ,
“Oh. but I’ve no time for inquiries!”
exclaimed Miss Lattimer. “I‘ve got to
meet a friend at the cycle agent’s‘in an
hour. Oh—look here, I’ll leave you my
card, Mr. Johnson, in case you \vantmy
address.” '
Mr. Johnson looked at the piece of
pasteboard and then at Miss Lattimer.
Something impelled him to rise and un-
lock it safe, which stood in a corner of l
the office. He. fumbled about and final-
ly produced four fivevpound notes, new
from the Bank of England.
“Well, ma’am,” said Mr. Johnson, “it
~isn’t my usual way of doing business,
but—” and there he paused, utterly un-
able to explain matters to himself.
“When did you say you could pay it
back. ma’am ?” -
“Oh. on the first of July," replied Miss
Lattimer. “That’s scarcely a month, is
it?”
“Then I may expect to see you on the
first of July, ma‘am," said Mr. Johnson,
laying down the notes
“Certainly you may!" cxclaimedMiss
Lntiimer. delightedly. “Thanks, awful-
ly!“ She stuffed the notes into 9. gold-
mounted purse and smiled at Mr. John-
son with all the innocent pleasure of a
child who has got what it wants. “But
we haven't arranged anything—haven’t
I to sign apaper or anything?"
“I think,” said Mr. Johnson, slowly,
“that we’ll leave that over until you pay
ihe money, ma’am. I'll only charge you
rcnsonablcintercstfor such a short loan.
Of course.ma‘am.you’ll not mention this
little transaction to anybody,” lie add—-
ed, anxiously. “We always keep these
mailers quiet—very quiet."
“Oh. to be sure!“ laughed the girl.
"Well, thanks. Mr. Johnson, and good-
by—you‘ll see me on the first of July
dead certain, you know.“ _
On the first. of July Mr. Johnson sat
in his office in a state of nervous expec-
tancy; but. the nervousness had noth-
ing to do with the money which was due
from Miss Lattimer. All the morning
he waited and all the afternoon and still
she came not. And then as evening
drew near the postman brought areg-
istered letter and Mr. Johnson opened
it and drew out £20 in notes and one
pound in gold and a note, that smelled
of violets. .
After a long time Mr. Johnson rose
from his desk and locked up the notes
in his safe. Then heiook ihe sovereign
in his‘hand and went out into the
street. 'He presently came to the little
shop of a working jeweler and entered
it iimidly. When he came out the sov-
ercigu hung on his simple watch chain
and his fingers felt for it and caressed
it as if it had been a live thing. And
that was the end.~—Chicago Daily News.
Johnson.
Outwltted Hln Sharp-Tongues] “’lfe.
An Englishman of Lymingfon had
the misfortunedo live in a continuous
quarrel with his wife, who was amodern
Xantippe, and threatened, in case she
survived. him, to dance over his grave.
It was her lot to outlive him, but it
was not so easy to carry out her threat.
The husband had the precaution to
make an injunction in his will requir-
ing his body to be buried in the sea
near his residence and without- cere-
inony. The injunction was compiled
Willis—ChicagoChronicle.
l spring time, or the russet robes of an-
which formed an almost perpendicular
wall above my head. Just to the right
. of me was the dreaded “Danger Line”
of the mountain range—a rOcky, bar-
ren, desolate stretch or belt across the
mountain, with here and there n 'cave
sunk in or a huge rock jutting out.
When all ihe rest of the mountain-sides
were clad in the green. garments of-
tumn, this stretch of sterile, untim-
bered land showed, naked and glaring,
like an ugly frown on nature’s face.
It was some unpleasant freak in the
construction of the mountains that I
'never knew the reason for, butI know
that “Danger Line” was universally
avoided, by white and black alike——
the latter declaring that it was “bant-
ed,” and the former that there were,
rattlesnakes, and even worse thin gs, to
be encountered there. My mother-had
positively forbidden ‘me ever to go into
that part of the mountain, and hitherto
I had seen it only from adistance,curie
ously.
I had sat there under the shadow of,
the inountnin in the-sweet autumn still-j
ness for perhaps ten minutes, tiredn
half dreaming, half wishing myself at
home, when I was suddenly aroused to
'fe and interest by a furious, excited
arking far up the cliif above me. and
slightly to my right. At firstldoubied
my ears. I had never known Plato to:
cross into “Danger Line” by so much
as one step before, and so I was at,
loss io-account for it. And yet-thatwns;
Plat-0’s well~knovvn voice Iheard; there
could be no mistaking it. There was
something strange, romantic, about it
all, and I was burning with desire to.
see'what manner of game he could have.
treed up ihere. I remembered my
mother‘s warning—and faltered. It
has been my experience that when a
boy falters in the face of duty, dis-
obedience has scored a point and‘i‘lrou-
ble is near at hand. -
There was my new gun, as yet un-
tried, except at a lifeless target, and,
after all, perhaps it was only a squirm“
rel. In short, my thirst for adventure
got the better of me, and my deter-
mination to follow Plato was fixed.
The next thing to be decided upon was
-how to get there. I could tell from
his bark that Plato was a considerable
distance above me, and the heiglit-wasJ
well-nigh inaccessible. But i was
young. strong and active, as mountain
boys are apt to be; and 1 have some-
iimes thought that if a 14-yenrvold boy
determined to climb a sunbeam he‘
could almost accomplish the task. The
mountain-side was covered with small
undergrowth, and with ihe aid of this
[determined tomake the ascent. Hold-
ing the gun with one hand, slowly
and laboriOusly I pulled myself up
from bush to bush with ihe other,
guiding my course by the ceaseless
barking of Plato up above me. At the
end of about an hour of such toil, I
reached the top of the first bluff, where
for a width of something more than
a hundred yards was a level ground,
reaching, to ihe. foot of the next bluff
and, with no climbing now to do. it was
the work of but a few moments to reach
Plato.
Coming up to 'him 1 found him sin-
iioned at the end of a huge hollow log,
and haying with more animation than
I had ever lmownhim to do before. I
don't know why it was, butas l reached
his side some-thing stOpped me, as
though a strong band had been laid
upon my shoulder, and my mother‘s
warning came into my mind. I turned
my face toward home, and for one
moment my conscience iwitied me and
my resolution was weakened. But I
shook of the spell and stooped to look
into the hollow log; It was as dark as
night. within, and I could distinguish
nothing. I then went around to the.
olhel‘ end. but found that there was
no hollow fbere. I beat upon the log
and listened, but no sound came forth,
save the echoes. I could think of noth-
ing the to do, so 1 knelt down, cocked
p
while Plato and I were out for a rab- ‘
wandnYBSuRWAbnwoAznrrnm
; l i ‘
[resumed his own. seat and looked at
' I out on the mountain air. Instinctively-
”l
' known Plato to run from any living
,... vw— ~ “—
_ ing quietly, and there was the dear old
l
l
l
l
down at the very foot of the mountain, I
.410! £33 “.5 PM?
v
todnit into “Clog, .,
out boy: reached home to receive the
-_.._..,_-
pulled the trim; and—“bang!” rang
o
X Sprahg from the log, and almost i5
multaneously with the shot came an,
answer from within, in the most says
age, the most blond-curdling. hideous
sound, I think, that I have ever heard,
and accompanied by a noise of scram-
bling out of the log. which filled my
whole being with fright. I had neven
thing before, but he preceded me in
the flight this time. As longasit takes
to tell it, we were Scarce-1y started when
out of the log came tumbling a great,
furious, hungry bear, bearing down
upon us like the shadow of an awful
death. I can shut my eyes now as I
w‘rite of it, and feel the shiver of fright
run through me, as i felt it at the-sight
of that bloodthirsty beast, nearly 50_
years ago. Oh we dashed, and nearer.
bruin came, ihe blood streaming from
his angry face, where the shot from my
gun had taken effect. On, on! and
near. r, nearer. and yet nearer the in-
furi...icd creature behind us! And then
-horrors! The brink of the great
bluff was reached! Straight down-
ward, with not a tree, not. a. friendly
bush to aid me—a descent impéssible,
even with ample leisure and greatest
care!
For down below me smiled the serene
beauty of Happy Hollow. There were
the cows, the horses,=the sheep, brows
home with the maple before the door,
under whose friendly shade I had prob-
ably rested and listened to the music
of the mocking birds for ihe last time.
And then mother’s warning came agaiii
before me—too latel—distinct- and re-
proachful.
To attempt a descent was ceriain'l|
death, and death equally as certain was
just behind me.‘ Reloading my- gun
ivans now out of the question, and had it
not been the shot it carried were too
small to do more than further incense
my murderous pursuer.
Poor old Pluto stood cowering by
my side, trembling and whining pitc-
ou‘sly, and in the bitterness of my de- ,
spairimg heart I accused him of it all i
-——not dreaming of what. was to follow!
The supreme moment had come. and
I was almost palsied with fright, with
not the strength or the resolution to
raise my guuto strike a last feeble
blow for myself. .
Within ten feet of me, the bear rose
on his. hind feet to what. appeared to
my frightened vision an almostincred-
ible height, He was preparing to
na‘. Beep Anncxcd Twice, not [I d
Con Piece of Land and Frc- '
(zaenll-y Disappears.
Out in the Pacific is a strip of land '
which has a will of its own and will:
not undergo allegiance to any power..
.They call it Falcon island, says the-H
"New York World. Our old friend. John._
Bull, always on the waich‘to increase
his empire. was the first to encounter-
it. In 1889 the British corvette ligeria
noted a prominent island in the South
sea. Palm trees were growing on its
southern extremity, a commanding
bluff, rising 150 feet above the sea.
in landing the commander was struck
1' with the beauty of the island. It was
/
THE VANISH'ING ISLAND. " l
i(Sometimes You ‘See It, and Sometimes
You Don’ t.)
not more than a mile in length and half
a mile broad. As there was no sign of
the island. having been noticed, the
captain, after having christenedit Fal-
con island, planted the union jack on
its topmost pinnacle.
- 'The results of his voyage were re-
ported, and next year a transport. ship
was sent with orders to make further
reports. The captain of ihe-'Egeria, who
spring! I knew the end was come.
and I tried to pray. .The power of
speech, of thought even, had deserted
me. As he sprang upon me, I though-ti.
to close my ‘e‘y6s,‘but that privilege,
too, was denied me. ‘ ‘
Another moment and I would‘have :5.
breathed my last, when, as ifbyanoble l.
inspiration, all his \vonied courage re- 41.
gained, Pluto met the spring and";
planied his teeth in my ”31353129.“;
tlirdd’t. The bear clinchcd 'with him, '
.‘ lb
lll‘; Ill“.
my
fl'llllllli
CRASH-mo. D0WN._ , THE
‘PRECIPICE.
A'WFUL
and I sought to turn—like a coward——
and fly for my life: but I could move
at best only a few feet backward, so
weak and unsirung was I.
The struggle was fierce for a moment,
but I saw that all was over for my dear
old brindle playmate, and I realized
that. it could be but a question of a
few seconds before the mad monster
would turn on me.
There was a crash at" my feet, a'giv-
ing way of the earth! The great rock‘
on which they struggled for life and-
death had broken loose from its moor-
ings, carrying the ugliest bear and the
noblest dog I ever saw, crashing down
the awful precipice, to mutilation and
death below. _
It was the middle of the afternoon
when I, a tired, weak, sick and repent-
blessings and forgiveness of my fond
and frightened parents.
At the foot of that bald cliff, just
where he fell on that lonely autumn
day in the long ago, you can find now—
unless impious hands have removed it
—a stone slab on which is rudely chis-
eled this inscription:
Sacred to the Memory of
PLATO,
Who Gave His Life to Save
A FRIEND.
Within a. few feet of where I am writ-
ing now, snoozing snugly in the even-
ing sunbeams, where they play upon
the floor through the open window,
is a large and beautiful Maltese ca‘t.
coiled up, in restful oblivion to all I
am writing, on an immense bear sk ,
thewearer of which came so near mak-
ing-an end of me.—Country Gentleman.
________ . ,
Fnrdcr Down.
First Boy—Dey say cigarettes hurts
a feller’s lungs. Do yer believe it? ‘
Second Boy—New; dey don’t hurt
yer at all unless yer dad ketches yer
smokin’ ’em‘ an' den dey hurts yer ,
furder down dan yer lungs—Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
A Clo-ed Incident.
"Falking about the Skipper's home.“
began the lank boarder, “I-—”
‘Therf. there! Don’t ring in any
kc about the ch.eese.’f The landlady
, 3,flu‘ceh‘g-Symouse Herald.
M. ~__-
happened: to be in command of the,
transport, on arriving at the place l
,where he had left the island. was my,
:prised to find that it had disappeare .‘l
Nothing waspleft but a low and dangefd :
bus: coral reef, with the sea beating
against it. The cliff had disappeare ill
and with it the palm trees and veg l
tion. England’s flag had sunk
the land. Two years later the Fre .
goyernment sent the cruiser Duch “
- .I'illlito the Pacific. She found herwa ,,
:ifdféyglcon. There was: an island nearly !
'th-‘eigéxact counterpart of the one dis-l
covered by the English corvette in 1889, l
except that the southern promontory
{was 25 feet high, instead of 153, as re-
ported by the Egeria. The palm trees
had gone, but the island was: still ver—
jiant. The resurrected island was for-i
mally annexed in "its'name of the
French republic, and the French flag.
was left flying.
Two years later a brig sent out by
France to revisit her possessions found
"that Falcbn island had again disap—
peared and was simply a reef, dangerous
to navigation. Whereupon France, in
her turn, gave up possession. ‘
Next the home government of Tonga,
island, hearing of the disappearing-l
piece of land. sent. an expedition to Fal-l
con. The isle was once again in evi—i
deuce, the southern promontory being
now 40 feet high and the northern end
now standing out as a commanding
bluff. The vessel took possession in
the name of King George of Tonga;
And. now the island is once more dis-
appearing. ‘The latest reports state
that infill probability it is again sub-
l
l
merged. ,
SWEEPERS IN MOBILE. '
How the Alabama City Milken Use of,
Her Tramps, Pauper: and
Petty Criminals.
Mobile, in common with other cities
of the south, has a novel and profit-i
able way of dealing with. her tramps,
paupers and criminals convicted for
The early riser will
petty offenses.
”-11“.
I? V‘ . \
. (7,“ ' , ,
~
A SOUTHERN IDEA.
(How Mobile Vagrants Have to Work Out '
Their Time.) ’
l
l
see squads of them chained iogethel
by the ankles, pith padded ankle
chains to prevent chafing of the skin,
industriously sweeping ihe streets and
roadways and picking up papers and
waste material which may lifter them.
A bluecoat watches the various squads
and allows no waste of time. but keeps '
each man working until his sentence'
of time expires; sometimes it is. days,,. -
~many times weeks, while many of the
men classed as “habitual tramps and
petty criminals” have done the work"
for years and become recognized char:
acters in‘the sweeping force.
Queer Natural Phenomenon- .
If two tuning forks of the some pitch
are placed facing each other, the one‘
sounding, the other silent, in a few-sec-fl. ‘ ' . ’
,ondn the Silent one Will be giving out
"I. didfi-nctly audible note; - . = '
' YANIsnING ISLAND. ‘3. -.
Norwalk Chronicler