GAPE MAY HERALD.

A* INDEPENDENT WEEKLY.

PafelUntd Every SatnrUay Morning at C06 Washington Street. Cape May, N. J.

IL i SCULL. • PeIiUsher ad Proprletw.

■ntered at tba post o£ce atCapt May, K. J.. aa aeooM-claaa matter, March im, 1901.

A French economist has figured out that, as compared with France, the lower freight rates in Germany effect aa annual saving to the German Industries of 140,000.000. France's great need, he thinks, is more canals.

The demand for agricultural implements Ip Egypt Is increasing with the progress made in cultivating land. Farmers are rapidly finding out the value of improved machinery, and have in use already a number of threshing machines.

The 'Department of Agriculture Is preparing a bulletin giving a digest of the game laws of the country, and It makes recommendation cf a uniform game protective law throughout the •ountry, making it a national rather than a State question. The American •rnithologlcal Union has practically gained national protection for nongame birds, and the same efforts arc aow to be exerted toward the preservation of birds and animals that are annually hunted as game.

A good reform In the matter of obtaining pardons for convicts has Just been Introduced by the Governor of Horth Carolina. He has notified the people of his state that all petitions lor pardons most first be advertised tor a given period In the newspapers •f the locality wllere the penal crime was committed. It is Intended to prevent pardons being quietly railroaded through without proper examination being made into the merits of the case, which has been the old-time practice.

Professor Haeckel gives some very Interesting tacts in regard to the human monkeys of Java, which seem to be near to the missing link. One of the most remarkable features of these monkeys is the voice, which is capable •f oxpicsslng emotions like the human voice. It would be Interesting to know how much the intelligence of these monkeys could be developed by systematic training. Probably the animals could he raised by care to the mental plane of the Bushman of Austoalla or the Hottentot of West Africa.

Experience with wooden pavements In Boston have been satisfactory on tevei stretches of streets. But Boston has comparatively little area of ferel street surface, and on anf grade exceeding two percent the wooden pavement, as generally laid, is as slippery as asphalt under similar conditions. In every other respect the wooden pavement is satisfactory, be-

CHAPTER XXI. It was more than a week later. A heavy fall of anew, such aa we rarely get •o late in February, made all the world white. I stood at the window of my own little sitting room, leaning against the heavy, deep-red curtains, and looking out at those whirling, noiseless flakes. But at the library door my strength returned. I walked In. Rnyvenhsm stood before the fire, my grandfather near the window. Mother lay on the sofa. Aunt Rose being

seated by her.

"I Am glad to see you so much better, my precioussaid my grandfather, in a voice that shook slightly. "Terrible times

—terrible times, Olga, my child-“

“Tea,” I answered quietly, not returning his kiss. “They ere terrible Umew and first I have to sak your pardon, my Uearest grandpapa, for all the trouble I have brought on you without meaning It.” ‘link yon have suffered more than I,

IT little elrt " hn aald. nadir.

ommiim.

grant nght i

“I thin .

iny poor little girl,' "I want to give ;

bo said, sadly.

it to give you an account of ev-

erything jnst as it happened,” I said,

clearly and evenly.

I then told everything that tbs reader already knows. When I reached the point to reveal my secret. I rose and stood be-

fore my fiance.

“Rarrenham,” I said, “Mr. Burnside

two days ago released ms ise, and I am free to tell y

Ime, I eonfi Will it n

that, long _ never ceased

respect Mr. Burnside'

lo tell you. 1 s that I—I w

that?

He crimsoned. "Olga.” he said, “yon ask too much. It would imhltter a fallow’s Ufa to have a wife who—I should always be Imagining ” “There,” I said, "Ton are free to marry ne with an unstained name and a insolence. When I was a little girl to murder Mr v Burnside. I did it steiy, for the sake of Remy Damien, whom 1 loved. 1 hated Mr. Bomside, because I thought him nnjnst to my nncie. I would have done anything for Remy, so I took a dagger, went into Mr. Bnmside's room in the dead of night, and slabbed him. For three days his life hung in the balance. He fully and freely forgave me, and showed the how strangely

not content yon to know ago, I acted In a way I have ed to repent of? Will you not r. Burnside's wish—a very ►—that it should never be

Could yon trust me as far as

bnild any haunting regrets, enrred to me that the

myself, without It never once ocuncle for whom I

id be Btav-

enough to

hold over me.” I psi

teg said all this la measured that my ■elf-eon&pl-'was si

me, and that I mist soon give way. My grandfather had covered his eyee with

it I

a, I felt slipping from

give

noise from the iota startled Annt Rosalie. Mother had fainted away. "Now.” I said steadily, "I see how mistaken I was. Grandpapa, yon may be loath to hart me now, but the time will cocne when yon will be thankful that your heir did not ally himself with a Damien. Ton see what my ancle is—a fprger—a convicted scoundrel: you hear what I myself have done—attempted a human life. It is far better, is it not, that there should be no alliance between a Care we and a. member of such a bouse? Is h not so.

Rayveuhsm?”

Had Rsyvcuhsm turned Impetuously round—had be held oat his arms to me, and cried: ‘T love yon I What are all these obstacles to levs like miner—I believe I should have dung & him. my whole heart we old have gone out to him, and I might have lived and died the wife of Rayvenham Care we. with only >»ry occasional rings as to whether I gave my huethe highest lore Which it was in my r to give. But such was not to bo

CHAPTER XXII.

Went upstairs. My little world ail

I me. I could not realise the fact that I was deso-

lay in ruins round me. I could not realise thine berond the fact that I was di

could not go to my ro

was there with

anything beyond late, desolate! I

I knew that Marianne sewing, keeping up a.good fire.\ I could not bear the thought of-seeing any one, and, turning aside, I ran along the gallery, and entered a corridor which'tras hardly

ing almost noiseless. Showing no wear nay fata,

at the end oFa year's trial, and being generally superior to asphalt. So report* Bertrand T. Wheeler, anporintenfient of streets. Efforts are now being made to overcome the objections •f slipperiness. An experimental section has been paved with wooden blocks notched on one aide. Laid In this manner there is * quarter of dn Inch opening, or Joint, every four inches in the pavement, and thia la tiled with Portland cement grout conarete. It is expected that this^wlll

remedy the trouble. " .

A curious relic of old-world belief is

m W rw. E?..* a-*-n»,. young men. from their names evident- ! lad my face lower and lower, and held I, Wlau. .«« on. CuMmm, on. 1 diS Sunday and on their way home ^ fe] t »<, ^cur* from interruption

la that corridor.

ever

So Intense was my despair that I did not hear tho quiet opening and shutting of a door near me. My paroxysm of grief was arrested by a hand on my shoulder, and a voice—that voles which had power to send electrical thrills through every

nerve in my body—said:

“Oh, Miss Damien, what is the trou-

ble ?”

It was dreadful to be found t

to be found by Mr. ■n. in this state of col-

dropped their bag of nuts into an old well. One of them went down Into the well to get the nuts and' when he did net return the other followed to

sec firhat had happened. The well _ was full of black damp and both were ! 4hlaT

suffocated. The next day an under- j gfesrs^as nh help foe it. ”My taker went to their home to bury them meet is broken off," I faltered,

^ u*. ui,i—

done by their parents, who had put the | .ngaswnsntbroken? Why? Why? Who bodies under six Inches of fresh soil , „ * - ^ „

I sobbed, “when I saw that Ray-

“Oh, tears ms! Dears me!” I said. “I will not tears you,” be returned, firmly, “till I know what is the cause of

an this trouble.

“Go sway: oh, for pity's sake, go! I can't bear that yon should see me like

ite!" .

With those blue

help

He bounded from my sldev and t auns «p and down the yaitery.

in the garden, their belief being that if a person is suffocated he could be rel to red by burying him in fresh earth. So deep-seated was this belief In tho

minds of the .family and neighbors of ' ' ,the boy* that It waa with the utmost of difficulty they were persuaded to allow r°a o - - — - -

the bodies to be interred properly, and ttC ^

then only after notl

hours had naked.

on me. At last I could bear it no longer. Wringing my hands together, I 'looked up with alow cry. His arms went around me in an instant. My head waa on his breast, my white face turned up to

him.

Victor?”

.“Tes.” The words floated from my month almost without mj knowledge. His golden head bent over, lower, till his Ups met mine. He only Jnst held me, tenderly and dose, shot in.from the ' tee's cold, and from all worldly frets annoyance. How could trouble <

il'yb

at tha suggestion?”

U.naa. I jasaa that But who weald**

humlUal "That a

Paradise., and voluntarily walk out .

Great heavena, it is incomprebenalbl

vehemantiy. “Are you sure of

uld have onre been in itarily walk ont again!

eavena, it is incomprehensible,"

be said, vehemantiy. “Are yon sore of it?

Are you not mistaken?"

He dropped on his knees before me— he, my great proud archangel Victor— be caught my hand* and held them

againat his heart

“Do yon wish to drive me mad?” he cried. "If only that fool Uayvenham knew what he had done! Why mast K be atevnys like this—that yon must weep your heart ont for a man who Is nnwoltby even to look into your tweet eyes, while tome ons—some one else is hungering for ene look, one word, anything yon could spare! Olga"—unconsciously ne nseo my Christian name for the first time—bow

It sounded from bis lips—"it Is a impossibility that the man yon

'to fling away your love!

moral

loved could elect I can't believe It!” I struggled to rcli held them fast. I

“I think, perhaps, that Is the reason ' “ ' given me up,” I tai-

lor® him really, not

why Rayvenbam

u I could love.

I didn't."

“Why did yon engage yoursel "Because 1 thought he loved much. He said so; and begaoi papa said ne snomn leave Gray Aabtead to me, and it seemed so bard-on Rayrenham! I did not know whnt I was doing. I was fond of him, and every one waa pleased. That is what makes It eo hard now to beerl My heart ia not broken— only my pride! my pride! 1 thought it was noble of me to marry him, and now he mn't have me?" a say you are not in love with the

hlgh-eouled Rayvenbam. Pray,

In love with any

h.L“T S

else?" to rise—to escape from

tell

a have n “Let m

shall not tell you-

right to ask," I said, excitedly. “Let me go, Mr. Burnside, you are cruel to keep

me here."

I did not move, but trembled from head to foot. There was complete alienee for

as the old dock at the far

many i end of

ly, and I looked dot the gaxe of the inti

in my lap, feeling e eyes which were

pose the si How could

, since Victor loved me, and I

back agate? I enp- : have disappeared.

CHAPTER XXIII.

I was dressed rather early that evening, and slipped down into the dcawing room, with s vague hope that some one else might also have dressed early, and

be there to greet me.

The library door waa Just at the foot of he staircase, and. as I cam* down, I icsrd voices speaking. A movement, aa if some one crossing the room, made me pause on the lowest stair, and. at the same instant, the'door opened, and Bayrenharn came out, his face scarlet, his expression' full of suppressed rag* and mortification. So preoccupied was be that be did not even see me, tut hurried past whare 1 stood, ascending the staircase three steps at a time. Then the door ed again, and ont walked Victor, bis glowing, his lip curled. I pitied poor Uayrenhanv I had once beard bow Mr.

- - ' ' ould 1 '

Burnside’s tongue could lash any one whoso condnct he felt contempt. He was taming toward the drawing room without

looking in my direction.

“Victorr

“Viri He t

le too ag room at once,” he went on. Wo walked in, hand in hand; like Two hlldrcn. Ones there, he tamed and opeud his arm*. "What ages andjoges since ne saw Mich other last! TWce hours, I should think.” he sUd. “How haven done witboot yon. Vl—or. lor eo many years?" I asked as I pushed aiy bands up through the thick masses of ‘■is shining hair. “How your lion's name -ised to frighten mo! Do you remember: And how yon cut off your beard to pita so ne? It nil comes back so vividly. Uh, to think that T shall see dear Burnside

again!"

"And Rayvenham,” said Victor, with «n edge of satire in his voice. ' “I got to die truth—those Lyndons have been getxng bold of him. Of course, at the time if my accident at Burnside, a good many dories got shout, and no doubt Remy Dnplen hinted to Mis# Lyndon, if he d*d net :ell her straight oat. the cans* of your sudden departure. She—Lady Laacelles Hervey, fua know, hat been having that alecs, Ermyn, to stay with her, at Oxford, and, between them, they had polloned his mind pretty well against yon before evar this last affair began! Well, 1 wish him Joy of Miss Ennyn Lyndon. If iba think* she r 3 '

will hare Gray

though, ah* U mtetakeo. Tour g sr declares Bathing shall induce him— “Oh, Victor." I said, hurriedly. “Rsyrenbam must have Gray Ashland! What should you and I de with it? We don't

want R.”

He loughed—such a glad, bright laugh -that It was Infectious. “Well.'he said, “I dare say Mr. Cnrewe win relent In “But I rant to know what has happened to afl the people? To Madateaa, Baante and Remy Damien?"

. ^

Madalcna will bo.let off

snsgi

ut K> .

him to take his •banco if it

11

do about Remy; I think I should leave '' ‘ ‘ ‘ i not for

CHAPTER XXIV. W# bad Jnst finished dinner when the butler gave notice that Colbonn wished to see Mr. Bumsido. "Show him in here,” «aM my grandfather. and in a few minutes the man. with his quaint, impassive face, entered

the room.

I felt fall of symiiathy for him.

was as quiet and respectful as I he had ' * ••

i month . _ . _ droop. Any ons who knew him well could

I deep lines under bis eyes, ooutb had acquired a dejected

tell in an instant how keenly h« felt his master's death.

“Good a so much

"I ought to offer you my best wishes.

miss—I suppose you know ” “No,” interrupted Mr. Carewc,

■ not know." itl” I asked.

. inter

Damien does hat ' '

“What is It

“Lord Egerton'a will,” said my grand ithcr. “I suppose you ought lo know, Olga. Ton are n great heiress. Lord Egerton’s will left two hundred s year to Calhoun, who well deaerres it. He willed

■e°had a blow to-diy, air.”

-A blow?"

father. “1 suppose you

athe

lesorTe* it. He wllle that Valleyford should be pulled down, and tbe estate,, togythcr with the materials the bouse was built with, to be sold. The proceeds, and a thousand pound* besides. to go to an asylum for the blind. After that with the exception of legacies to yonr Annt Rosalie, Rayvenbam end myaelf. the whole of his money is left to yon. Including the treasore, should It bo

found."

“And as Miss Dstnlcn found It she well

deserves it” pnt in Calhoun.

"There is a proviso," went on my grandfather, “that sbonld yon ever meet Madalcna Carleton. and sbonld she be in went

that yon sbonld provide for her."

“That brings me, sir,” said Calhoun, “to what I came here to tell you, only Miss Dsmien pnt it ont of my mind.

Pvt' * ” ' * ' “ "Tes, sir; Bansio ia dead!*

“Dead?”

“Tes, etr: and Mrs. Remy Damien, shs hasn't spoke one word yet since she recovered consciousness. Seems as If she might gp off any day, now, and no Jostle# don* at all”

«W

onrs,' — lengthy pans*. “What did he die of?" “Apoplexy. He looked like that They found him dead on Ms bed, with his hands clinched." "Victor," I whispered, “is that money of Paul'* really mine?" "I'm afraid so.” "Then pay Remy's debt, stop the prosecution, and send him ont of the'country." • •••••« It seemed as if nine years were bridged over, and I sat once more, n small, shy girl, beside a big young man, fnil of deep thoughts and nnnsed to children. The same feeling of a gush of rapturons life came over me as 1 stepped for the second time on Devonshire ground, this time with the knowledge that it was to be my home for always. We had spent a very'brief honeymoon in the laka district;.we meant to have a long holiday later in the year, and revisit Florence and Rome—the places where w# first began to know each other. Jnst now. nothing seemed to suit us so well ns this ides of coming home to Burnside with tbe springtime la our hearts and all around ns. Remy Damien had gone to New Zealand, with the promise of a yearly allowance so long aa be stayed there: ns for his poor wife, she was falling day by day. I had visited her and done all I could for her. and now she waa at Ventnor. In the Isle of Wight, though we knew that nothing could arrest the rapid decline of her whole system. Her longs had always been delicate, and a residence in Valleyford doring the winter, when the damp river mlats bad often hang round the old hqase thick

vhich most soon prove fatal. Rayvenham bed returned to Oxford at me* on my engagement to Victor, hot be ame back for my wedding. Easter fell early that year, and w# were narried in Easter week. . (The end.)

Cowboy s Letter. A We#tew doctor had under his core in the hospital a cowboy from one of the ranges of Northern Montana, who. when he became convalescent, one day walked into the doctor's honad to thank him for hla services and to any goodby. Aa he waa about to leave the office, the c-jwboy remarked:

aide "6f the water, and that before return you Intend to vlalt Scotland, anch Is the case, I should like to give you a letter to some friend* of mine.” The doctor replied that he did Intend to vlalt Scotland, and that he should be pleased to take charge of the letter. Thereupon the cowboy sat down, wrote a brief tetter, sealed It up. and addressed the envelope to—let us nay— the “Duke of Cralgc" at a castle In Scotland. When he handed It to the doctor, that gentleman looked at tbe address rather dubiously and tbeu asked, in a voice that waa possibly.a

little cold:

“Is this gentleman an acquaintance

of yours?"

"Well, yea," replied the ranch-rider.

shall be glad to have you call on him and tell him Pm getting along right”—Philadelphia Times.

■ Tbs common English delusion that Scotchmen hove no sense of humor is due to the Inability of the English to understand the Scotch humor, which has a much finer point than theirs. Here Is an Incident which is used to Illustrate the suposed density of un dent and Ing of-.the Booth man; It really Uluatratss tbs fact, that hla homor U keener than the other man's. MacTavish, coming to London, mot a cockney on tha road. “Hoo faur le't to London?" asked MacTarlsh. as the, crow flies," an-

MoeTavtsh;

, ,-aaldMaeT. "I'm no gann to flee; I'm gm. wanlk. Hoo moay miles is't a

HUNTING THEJOWHEAD A WHALE'S TEETH WORTH A FORTUNE IN THESE DAYS.

rosily tic Arctic I

"There is a certain class of general information not to be found in printed hooka, and frequently the most Intelloctual person or even an extensive traveller will surprise you by hla Ignorance on some subjects,” said a seafaring man, as be nnt under an awning on the poop deck of a coastwise schooner lying at anchor in the bay. The old salt waa in a talkative

beaten sailor readily acceded to the requeats of tho crowd to go on with

hla yarn.

"Probably many of the ladies who appear on tho streets of Char.eston today attired In elegant silk' ami satlna," he continued, "are not aware that tho material from which their costly clothing was manufactured came from the teeth of the Arctic Ocean bowhead whales, and that hundreds of men are every year risking life and limb to supply the ever-in-crea.Ing demand for this expensive article. Possibly you may not know that the bowhead whales are So be found only in the Arctic ocean and that they are the only whales from which the well-known whalebone la taken. This bone la the same that was formerly used in umbrella* and corsets and waa not until a few years back

room of the ship with a man at each of my wrists rubbing vigorously, and the skipper standing over m‘ Imagine my feelings at once more get-

_ ... . , , .ting into a good, warm bunk. I soon thoU«M to b, ot , ato , o,i Won , „ „„ „ ae A great many people think this whale- iplEBhed

A great many people think this

bone ia the bone of the fish's body, whereas itja only its teeth. The body bones are not. nor have they ever been, used in any manner whatever. -These teeth are about fourteen feet long at the front of the mouth, and gradually taper back until only a few inches in length. The longest are about eighteen Inches !n width and half an inch thick, the other proportionately smaller. The bowhead whale's tooth is of a very fine fibre so tightly woven together as to claaely resemble a solid substance. The whale has only an upper set of teeth, which are hot used for masticating the food. The big flab takes In great quantities of water through Its mouth and apouta It out high In the air through a small opening on the back close to the head. One edge of the teeth is fringed by some three or four inches of unwoven fibre, which serves to strain the water as It comes through, thus catching the small bugs and insects of which the monater’s .food consists. The bowheads are the only species that have this aort of teeth. The teeth of.all other species are of ivory. Some ten yearn ago a Frenchman named Jean La Costc discovered that the fibre of whalebone could be woven into a much finer grade of silk than that of any previously put on the market Immediately the price of whalebone rose to a very high figure, and is still increasing every year. There are, on an average. 2000 pounds of this bone to a whale, which brings 912 per pound, wholesale. The teeth of a single whale are worth about 920,000. When the teeth are taken from -the whale the carcass la cut loose from the ship and allowed to float away. No Arctic whalers care for the oil; the sperm whalers, who go down In the South

seas, supply the oil market

“A poor aailor'a life is a thankless task ait beat, but tho brave follows who go op In the Arctic regions and undergo the terrible sufferinga and hardships of the frigid climate, of which the world knows and hears nothing, have to sing their praises themselves, if their praises are sung at all. Whale fishing is one of the most hazardous occupations a person can pursue and there are probably more Uvea lost every year In thia industry than in any other occnpatlon In the world. Thia statement ia true in regard to the South Seas, where the weather is always mild and pleasant, but more especially does it apply to the frozen waters of tho Arctic Ocean. Going out in small boats chasing whales frequently from eight to ten hours in weather often aa cold aa 15 deg. below zero. Is not so pleasant. But In spite of all this there Is a certain fascination and a subtle charm about It that makes the Utp of a whaler the most difficult thlnif imaginable to swear off after once getting Into It "1 spent five years In the Arctic Ocean and Behring Sea as third mate aboard a whaling ship from San Francisco. Just now I recall a particularly bitter experience.. One morning about 10 o'clock, while cruising along the coast of the Northwest Territory we discovered a school of whale soma two or three miles off our lee bow. Immediately all seven boatj^ were lowered away. The weather waa bitterly cold, 23 deg. below zero, and a very dangerous, choppy aea had been fanned up by a biting wind from the north. ^ After wo were out about half and hour the breeze began to increase and the sea so high that I had to take down the mainsail and Jib of our whale boat and set the storm sail. Presently we saw a whale "blow" di-

rectly off oar wi half mile away,

the tiller to starboard

the sheet. As soon aa the wind got asters of ua our little boat leaped forward like a frightened deer. Almost before we knew it tha whale loomed up In full view only a few yards ahead.

u>Uy I brought I and eaaed off

t appearance as he lay up i e surface, spouting fonnl

■u"

it was enough to oonvlnoe u* that we La ..

had a worthy fot-mau to ronu-nd with. The whale had evidently not seen us. as he still lay very quiet. I decided to take advantage of hlu Ignorance of our close proximity and sail dear over hla body, allow ing the harpooncr to strike an we passed over. This was a perilous thing.to do, but we did it and got over eafe and sound, but what followed close upon tills daring feat to boat sailing shows where the danger of whale fishing comes in. “As we skimmed over the Mg flsh'a back the harpooncr presented him with tho shaft and an electric bomb nt the same time, holding the former in hla right hand and the latter in his left. The first thing (hat 1 can distinctly recall os happening alter we landed safely on the other side was a terrible crash, “mingled with a loud yell of pain from one of the crew. I felt m pward a spUi water. 1 was heavily loaded down with clothing, and how 1 contrived to keep myself afloat as long as I did is a mystery. After a few minutes I be-

suddenly I felt something grasp me by the arm, and the next thing I knew I was in the bottom of another boat, piled up with several figures as wet as mine. This is all I can remember plainly, for as soon as I was taken out

w^s U

of tho water into the cold air I begi

ep anc

when I woke up 1 waa in the engine

3 grow drowsy. I fell asleep

waters

against the good ship's sides and the cold north wind whistled through her pitch pine spars, I lay dreaming of home and friends thousands of miles away.—Charlestown News and Cou-

rier.

QUAINT AND CURIOUS. Samuel Peck, farmer, of Rush county, Ind., and his son Edward, while plowing In a field recently, captured a double headed snake. Tbe reptile was perfect in every way with the exception of the heads, which were Joined fcrkllke. Each had two eyes and each was provided with a mouth. The mule drivers who take their animals across the South American Andes always cover tbe eyes of the mules with a poncho while they put on the heavy loads. It they could see. they would be unmanageable; but blindfolded they meekly accept their burdens and start on the Journey without protest An English gentleman's daily reading area covered no fewer than five newspapers in the moralng. together with five in the evening. SsndwicJieL-^ between the two batches of Journals he waa in the habit of reading some four or five periodicals, humorous, illustrated and nodal. Moreover, he devoured two novels from the circulating library per week, so that altogether his powers of concentration must have been as great as they were abnormal St. Andrew was taken as the patron saint of Scotland because his cross (the crus decussate—X) appeared in the sky to A chains. King of Scots, and Hungns, King of the Piets, thn night before their bsttle with Athelptane. King ot the Saxons, early in the 10th century (Achalus died 919). The northern kings vowed to adopt the cross as their emblem, and the saint aa their patron If they won a victory; being rictorions, they kept their vows, and worshipped at St Andrew’s shrine. A mare, the property of an English farmer, has given birth to a foal with characteristics. The hind legs are perfect, but on one of the forelegs is a cloven'hoof, while on the other there is a kind of double hoof. One of its ears resembles that of a cow. The foal is alive and doing well. A remarkable turkey was hatched at East End farm, 'Stonham Aspall, Suffolk. Eng., the other day. It had two bodies, fear wings, four legs and an abnormal hrt^l. It had only a short lived exis-

There is an extraordinary young man

now traveling about the country. His name is R. H. Mack, and he Is seemingly possessed of % wonderful power, by which he defies the law of gravity in one way. and that is in regard to his foothold on the earth. When he doesn't want to be lifted off his feet nobody can move him. He weighs only 120 pounds and wheqThe does hot wish to be llfted-he places one finger on the neck of the man who wants to lift him and another on the wrist The mysterious force then begins to work, and, try as he will, the experimenter always fails to move Mack an inch, n he puts his hands on the head of a small boy the boy sticks to the earth, no mat?*"- how hard any one may try to lift him. Mack'has demonstrated his power before some eminent scientists Including Charcot in Paris and Virchow, in Berlin, but they could give

m for the young man’s strange

powi

Red Chlldra lo a. A group of children havi: family likeness were playing togpther on the sands at 8eabright with perfect disregard of the sunshine beating down on their heada An old lady with an umbrella and a dog passed by and complimented their fond father. "Ah, so they are ail yours? But aren't you afraid their health will suffer In this horrid glare?" . "Not at ail" he replied. "Ton eee I have children to burn."—New York