VOL. XV. OCEAN CITY, N. J., THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, 1895. NO. 21. Ocean City Sentinel. PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT OCEAN CITY, N. J., BY R. C. ROBINSON, Editor and Proprietor. $1.00 per year, strictly in advance. $1.50 at end of year.

Attorneys-at-Law. MORGAN HAND, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW Solicitor, Master and Examiner in Chancery, Supreme Court Commissioner, Notary Public, CAPE MAY C. H., N. J. (Opposite Public Buildings.)

Physicians, Druggists, Etc. DR. J. S. WAGGONER, RESIDENT Physician and Druggist, NO. 731 ASBURY AVENUE, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Pure Drugs, Fine Stationery, Confectionery, Etc., constantly on hand.

LAW OFFICES SCHUYLER C. WOODRULL, 310 Market St., Camden, N. J.

DR. J. E. PRYOR, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, Ocean City, N. J. Special attention given to diseases of the Nose and Throat, and of Children.

Restaurants.

MARSHALL'S

DINING ROOMS FOR LADIES AND GENTS. No. 1321 Market Street, Three Doors East of City Hall,

PHILADELPHIA.

STRICTLY TEMPERANCE. MEALS TO ORDER FROM 6 A. M. TO 8 P. M.

Good Roast Dinners, with three Vegetables, for 25 cents. Turkey or Chicken Dinners, 35 cents.

Ladies' Room up-stairs with homelike comforts.

PURE SPRING WATER. OPEN ALL NIGHT.

Contractors and Builders. S. B. SAMPSON, Contractor and Builder

No. 305 Fourth St., Ocean City, N. J. Jobbing promptly attended to. Plans, specifications and working drawings furnished.

JONATHAN HAND, JR.,

Attorney-at-Law,

SOLICITOR AND MASTER IN CHANCERY,

Notary Public, CAPE MAY COURT HOUSE, N. J. Office opposite Public Buildings. Will be in Ocean City every Wednesday at office on Eighth street neat station.

T. C. HUTCHINSON, M. D. Homeopathist. Tenth St. and Asbury Ave., OCEAN CITY, N. J. Resident Physician. Late of Phila.

DR. WALTER L. YERKES,

DENTIST, Tuckahoe, N. J.

Will be in Ocean City at 656 Asbury avenue every Tuesday.

C. E. EDWARDS. J. C. CURRY. DRS. EDWARDS & CURRY,

DENTISTS, Room 12, Haseltine Building, Take Elevator. 1416 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa.

HARRY S. DOUGLASS, Counsellor-at-Law, CAPE MAY COURT HOUSE, N. J.

EUGENE C. COLE, Attorney-at-Law, MASTER IN CHANCERY, NOTARY PUBLIC, SEAVILLE, CAPE MAY CO., N. J. Will be in Ocean City on Friday of each week at the Mayor's office.

BAKERY, 601 South Twenty-second Street. Ice Cream, Ices, Frozen

Fruits and Jellies.

Weddings and Evening Entertainments a Specialty. Everything to furnish the table and set free of charge.

NOTHING SOLD OR DELIVERED ON SUNDAY.

WALLACE S. RISLEY, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENT, 413 MARKET ST., CAMDEN. Properties for sale and to rent. Money to loan on Mortgage.

JOSEPH F. HAND,

ARCHITECT,

CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER, Ocean City, N. J.

Plans, Specifications and Working Drawings furnished. Estimates given on Application. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Plasterers and Brick-Layers.

W. STONEHILL. G. O. ADAMS.

STONEHILL & ADAMS,

Plastering, Range Setting, Brick Laying, &c.

All work in mason line promptly attended to.

OCEAN CITY, N. J.

HARRY HEADLEY, OCEAN CITY HOUSE,

717 Asbury Avenue.

PLASTERING, BRICKLAYING. Ornamental Work of Every Description. All kinds of cementing work and masonry promptly attended to.

Nicholas Corson, CARPENTER AND BUILDER, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Plans and Specifications furnished. Buildings put up by contract or day.

WALLACE S. RISLEY, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENT, 413 MARKET ST., CAMDEN. Properties for sale and to rent. Money to loan on Mortgage.

PETER MURDOCH, DEALER IN COAL and WOOD, Ocean City, N. J. Orders left at 806 Asbury avenue will receive prompt attention.

G. P. MOORE, ARCHITECT, BUILDER, AND

PRACTICAL SLATER,

Ocean City, N. J.

Best Roofing Slate constantly on hand.

GEO. A. BOURGEOIS & SON, Carpenters and Builders,

OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Buildings erected by contract or day.

D. S. SAMPSON, DEALER IN Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, PUMPS, SINKS, &C., Cor. Fourth Street and West Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Tin roofer and sheet-iron worker. All kinds of Stove Casting furnished at short notice. Gasoline Stoves a specialty. All work guaranteed as represented.

D. GALLAGHER, DEALER IN FINE FURNITURE, 43 South Second Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA. L. S. SMITH, CONTRACTOR IN Grading, Graveling and Curbing. PAINTING BY CONTRACT OR DAY. Eighth St. and Asbury Ave., OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Bakers, Grocers, Etc.

JACOB SCHUFF, (Successor to A. E. Mahan,) THE PIONEER BAKERY, No. 706 Asbury Avenue,

OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Fresh Bread, Pies and Cakes daily. Wedding Cakes a specialty. Orders delivered free of charge. Nothing delivered on Sunday.

LEANDER S. CORSON,

ARCHITECT,

CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER,

Ocean City, N. J. Plans and specifications furnished. Terms reasonable. First-class work.

TREATMENT BY INHALATION! 1529 Arch St., Philad'a, Pa. For Consumption, Asthama, Bronchitis, Dyspepsia, Catarrh, Hay Fever, Headache, Debility, Rheumatism, Neuralgia, And all Chronic and Nervous Disorders. It has been in use for nearly a quarter of a century. Thousands of patients have been treated, and more than 1000 physicians have used it and recommended it. It is agreeable. There is no nauseous taste, nor aftertaste, nor sickening smell.

We give below a few of the great number of testimoninals which we are constantly receiving from those who have tried it, published with the express permission in writing of the patients.

"Please accept my sincere gratitude for the restored life of happiness and health and vigor and usefulness that the Compound Oxygen has certainly given me.

"While I was always considered a healthy child, I was known to be dyspeptic from babyhood. It was inherited. For two years I was

confined almost constantly to the lounge. For more than four years I did not know a moment

free from pain. All this time dyspepsia continued is ravages, except when temporarily relieved, and aggravated other serious disorders.

My friends and physicians thought I would not recover. To-day I am entirely cured of dyspepsia, can enjoy articles of food that I never dared use before in all my life. For the past year I have been up and going in ease and health, with sufficient vigor to take some part in domestic work of the most laborious nature. As my strength continues to improve, since leaving off Oxygen, I feel that I can conscientiously recommend the treatment, not only to cure (provided the doctors' directions are observed), but to be lasting in its beneficial effects. "MISS JAMIE MAGRUDER, "Oak Hill, Florida." "The Oxygen Treatment you sent me for C. O. Harris, a year ago, one of my missionaries from West Africa, whose life was in jeopardy on account of lung trouble and a severe cough, he now testifies has greatly benefited him. He has entirely recovered his health, married a wife, returned to his work in Africa, and taken his wife with him. Bishop WILLIAM TAYLOR, 150 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. "Compound Oxygen.. Its Mode of Action and Results" is the title of a book of 200 pages published by Drs. Starkey & Palen, which gives to all inquirers full information as to this remarkable curative agent, and a record of surprising cures in a wide range of cases--many of them after being abandoned to die by other physicians. Will be mailed free to any address on application. Drs. STARKEY & PALEN, 1529 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. 120 Sutter St., San Francisco, Cal. Please mention this paper.

STEELMAN & ENGLISH, Contractors AND Builders,

Ocean City, N. J.

Plans, specifications and working drawings furnished. Jobbing promptly attended to.

ISRAEL G. ADAMS & CO., Real Estate AND Insurance AGENTS, Rooms 2, 4 & 6, Real Estate & Law Building, ATLANTIC CITY, N. J. Commissioners of Deeds for Pennsylvania. Money to loan on First Mortgage. Lots for sale at South Atlantic City.

McCLURE, HERITAGE & CO., Successors to Finnerty, McClure & Co., DRUGGISTS AND CHEMISTS 112 Market Street, Philadelphia. Dealers in Pure Drugs, Chemicals, Patent Medicines, Paints, Oils, etc.

J. L. HEADLEY,

CARPENTER AND JOB SHOP, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Job work promptly attended to. Turning, scroll sawing, window and door frames, and all kinds of millwork. Furniture repaired.

Picture frames. Wheelwright shop attached. Net screens a specialty. Residence, West below 12th St. Mill, corner 10th and West.

Plumbers, Steam Fitters, Etc.

J. T. BRYAN,

Practical Plumber and Gas Fitter No. 1007 Ridge Ave.

Philadelphia.

Circulating Boilers, Sinks, Bath Tubs, Water Closets, Lead and Iron Pipes, Pumps, Etc., furnished at short notice. Country or City Residences fitted up in the best manner. Sanitary Plumbing and drainage a specialty. Orders by mail promptly attended to.

NOW OPEN FOR SEASON OF 1895. BELLEVUE HOT BATHS, SAMUEL SCHURCH, Boardwalk, between 7th and 8th Sts. New Suits for surf bathing.

NEVER TOO LATE.

It is too late. Ah, nothing is too late Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles Wrote his grand "Oedipus," and Simonides Bore off the prize of verse from his composers When each had numbered more than fourscore years, And Theophrastus at fourscore and ten Had but begin his "Characters of Men." Chaucher, at Woodstock with the nightingales, At sixty wrote "The Canterbury Tales." Goethe, at Weimar, toiling to the last, Completed "Faust when eighty years were past.

These are indeed exceptions, but they show How far the gulf stream of our youth may flow Into the arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself survives. --Longfellow.

MY GENTLE FRIEND. It was the winter of 1890. The new branch railroad into Phenix, Ar. T., had been running trains for two years, and invalids of the east were just beginning to learn that this metropolis of the southwestern desert land, with its dry air and abundant sunshine, afforded the finest winter climate on the continent. At the time I write the one train a day on the little branch railroad connecting with the main line of the Southern Pacific was well loaded every day, and the hotels and boarding houses were striving in every way to accommodate the influx of winter visitors. As is usual in most new western towns, especially of the intermountain region, hotel accommodations were only mediocre, while the best restaurants were those connected with the big gambling houses. For several days I had noticed a newcomer about the hotels and principal resorts of the town. His face had a strangely familiar look to me, yet I could not recall that I had ever seen it before. He was faultlessly dressed in clothes of the latest pattern, had a blond mustache, and but for his peculiar little gray eyes I should have pronounced him a very handsome man. He seemed to be a tital stranger, and as I would see him of an afternoon around the Commercial House, or in the evening watching the guests in "The Capitol" or "The Palace" and never talking with any one, I mentally set him down as the son and heir of some wealthy family who had sought a winter home in the desert that he might return in the spring a "new man." I suppose I had noticed him for about a week or ten days before either he or I had the temerity to address the other. I don't know now which of us spoke first, but anyway it came about in that free, open handed way of addressing a stranger which prevails in the south and west. I had been quail shooting that day, and returning rather late in the evening went down to The Palace restaurant for my dinner in my hunting suit rather than disturb the folks at home with getting me a late meal. An old California comrade had been with me all day, and after ordering our dinner we went out to the bar to try one of Frank's cocktails. Frank, by the way (or Francois, I should call him, as he was French), was a comparative newcomer from New Orleans, and as a mixologist exceeded anything ever before seen in Arizona. At least so all the boys about town said, and the old Hassayampas re-echoned their sentiment with hearty "that's what!" My comrade and I had disposed of the first concoction and were discussing the question of another of its same splendid quality when the stranger spoke of the superior excellence of Frank's mixtures. I don't know how it came about, but presently one of the other of us said in the most brotherly fashion, "Won't you join us?" to which the reply came, "The pleasure is mine!" and of course it wound up by the pleasure belonging to both of us before we again repaired

to the dining room.

Our newly found acquaintance had ordered his dinner about the same time as my comrade and myself, so we all sat down to the same table. I felt rather honored at this attention of the stranger, for in all my observation of him I had never before noticed him talking with any other Phenecian. He had a voice as soft and smooth as a woman's, and as he talked his language indicated the polished graduate of Yale or Harvard, with a finish fo European travel. Now, thought I, I will learn something of this man, where he is from and

who he is.

As the meal progressed I had occasion to ask him to hand me the pepper. As he did so he commented upon the fact that most of the black pepper served on restaurant tables was not pepper at all, but a conglomeration of dried leaves and drugs, much cheaper than the genuine article. His talk was learned, even classical, using medical terms and formulas with the familiarity of a chemist.

From that he drifted on to places to

spend the winter and incidentally refer-

red to the fact that the last three win-

ters previous to this one he had spent

on the Riviera.

A question about Nice and Monaco

seemed to encourage him, and he went on with a glowing description of these famous resorts. "And, oh, what a glorious drive it is along the Corniche road," he continued, "with the never ending panorama of bay and sky with all their

various tints and the magnificent moun-

tain background! There is certainly

nothing in America and, I believe, nothing in the world to equal it. Then San Reno and Bordighera are pretty little

resorts, and the visitor makes a mistake

who does not spend a portion of his

time there."

"I suppose you have visited Genoa," I interrupted. "Oh, yes, indeed," was the reply. "In fact I spent nearly three months last winter at Cannes and made the drive to Genoa serveral times with coaching parties. Too bad you have not splendid drives here. What with such drives as along La Riviera di Ponente, this wonderful dry air and beautiful winter sunshine, Arizona would soon become the greatest winter resort in the world." In this strain he talked on, and I suppose we had been at the table nearly two hours when a messenger came in from my friend, the surgeon general, saying he had just been called on for an important surgical case and asking if I would not accompany him and administer the anesthetic. My California comrade and myself voted our new found acquaintance a charming man and a capital fellow generally, though afterward I remarked to myself that I had not as yet found out anything about where he came from or who he was. Busy for the next few days, I thought but little more of this entertaining stranger. About a week later, however, I dropped into The Palace, just to see who was there, and the stranger, quiet and uncommunicative as usual, was watching the games, never standing over any one table for more than two or three minutes at a time. From here I stepped into The Capital, and Bert, the head man, not being busy, I began a conversation with him. Presently the well dressed stranger came in, and I noticed Bert's eyes take on a rather defiant flash as he watched him pass to the rear of the room. "Bert, who is that man?" I asked. "I've seen him about for some time now, but he never seems to speak to any one. He must be some easterner here for the winter, isn't he?" "Why, don't you know that fellow?" was the quick response. "He knows better than to speak to me. He's the blank of a blank who killed Jim Fallon in Prescott give years ago. Why, you remember his murder, don't you, general?" "No; I don't recall it, Bert. That was when I was in Montana, and I reckon the trial and all took place before my return." "Well, it was the most cowardly murder I ever knew, and if that duck had his deserts he'd have stretched hemp for it long ago. You knew Fallon, of course, who used to run a 'bank' in Tombstone, and after the flush days there he moved to Prescott?" I nodded assent, and he went on. "This fellow, Jack Underhill, Thimble Jack, who was nothing but a low down 'tin horn' anyway, got full one night and raised such a disturbance at Fallon's table that he finally got up and kicked him out of the house. "Underhill was furious over this method of ejection, and for several days

went around threatening that he was going to get even with Fallon. Some of Jim's friends told him he had better look out for Thimble Jack, as he was a treacherous cuss and would probably stab him in the back. But Fallon laughed at them, declaring that Jack was too big a coward to attack a child, let alone a man. "So the matter ran along for almost a week and nearly every one had forgotten about it, when one night about

10 o'clock, as Fallon was standing by

the bar talking to some friends, this cowardly dog shot him in the back without the slightest warning. In the confusion he managed to get away and hid in the house of a frail woman. Talk of lynching was so strong the next day that he sneaked over to the sheriff's office and gave himself up. Fallon lingered along for three weeks before he died. "When the trial came, this fellow's family or some of his friends, or some one in the east, put up the money for him, and he had half a dozen of the best criminal lawyers in the southwest defending him. For myself I always believed the jury was tampered with too, for they only brought in a verdict of manslaughter and he simply got a sentence of five years, and what with

good time he's out now.

"I hope you haven't spoken to him, for no self respecting white man like you ever wants to speak to such a cow-

ardly dog as him."

And so this was my entertainer of a few evenings before. Then it dawned upon me why his face had always seemed so familiar to me. As a territorial official I had often visited the penitentiary at Yuma, and here I had seen my friend of the Riviera, my friend the gambler.--General Edward S. Gill in New York Recorder.

HOW BEADS ARE MADE. One of the Oldest and Most Interesting of the Minor Arts.

Chinese are the oldest beadmakers in the world. They have made beads so long that even their historians do not mention a time when the industry was not ancient. And the Chinese today do the work just as their forefathers did, and the styles are exactly the same. After the Chinese no people are so expert as the Venetians. At present there are more than 1,000 workmen in the island of Murano alone who are engaged in beadmaking. The few manufacturers in other parts of the world have all learned the secret of the craft in Venice. For beadmaking there must be a rope walk connected with the glass factory. A rope walk is a narrow, straight gallery 150 feet long and so situated that the middle is not far from the furnaces in which the glass is melted. The first process is the making of ordinary tubes like those used in almost every drug store. Two brawny workmen with bare, brown arms seize a huge wedge of the "metal," as the molten glass is called, between their blow pipes, and after it has been blown hollow they gradually stretch it out into a long, swinging rope. When it has been reduced to the proper size for the beads about to be made, it is laid away to cool, after which a workman comes along and in a wonderfully deft manner chips it into fragments of uniform size. Often for small beads these are not much larger than a grain of wheat, but so carefully is the work done that the little cylinders are rarely cracked or spoiled. The pieces are now picked up by the boys and placed in a tub with sand and ashes and stirred up carefully. In this way the holes in the embryo beads are stuffed full, thus preventing the danger of the sides flattening together when heat is applied. They are next placed in a skil-let--just such a one as the housewife uses in frying eggs--and stirred over a very hot fire until the ragged edges where the pieces were broken from the tube are rounded, giving the bead a globular form. As soon as they are cool the ashes and sand are shaken out of them in a sieve, and then they are separated according to size by other sieves. They are taken next to a long table around which a whole flock of boys and girls are sitting. If the glass is colored, as it often is, the piles of beads on the table suggest a rainbow, with every hue, from jet black, through red, green, yellow and blue, up to white. Each child has a needle and thread, and by long practice the beads are placed on strings with almost inconceivable swiftness. And the children keep an exact count, too, so that the manufacturer knows just how many beads he is sending out. The threads are tired into bundles and shipped to almost every port where a vessel touches.--Chicago Record.

HOTEL READING ROOMS. Their Principal Patrons In New York People Not Guests at the Hotel. In one respect at least New York differs from all other American cities, and that is in regard to the importance of the reading rooms of its hotels. There are in New York 229 hotels, exclusive of apartment houses with restaurant attachments. Every hotel in New York or elsewhere--every genuine hotel, that is--has a reading room, and in it are to be seen gathered the most important accessories of a hotel--the newsstand, the telegraph office, the telephone office and the railroad and steamboat ticket office. In a country hotel the reading room is the seat of great activity, and it seems to be the bounden duty of the transient male patrons of the hotel, as well as the regular male boarders, to be in the reading room as long a time as possible between meals, and usually a late comer is obliged to wait his turn for a seat at one of the writing desks or tables or for a chance to read one of the newspapers which are kept on file. According to the observations of all hotel men throughout the country, the smaller the town the more important the hotel reading room; the larger the town the less important the hotel reading room. It is apparently in corroboration of this rule that the reading rooms of most New York hotels, though furnished in attractive styles and well calculated to serve the convenience of guests, are usually deserted, or if not deserted are patronized chiefly by persons not guests of the hotel. In other words, men not stopping at the hotel, but meeting friends in its main corridor, utilize the conveniences of the reading room. Added to these are a few of the transient guests, who for the most part come to New York on business or pleasure from great distances, and especially from interior towns. Boston men, Philadelphia men, Baltimore men and Buffalo men are not great patrons of the reading rooms of New York hotels, but transient guests from the small towns of the country are, and some of them sit for hours at a time conning the back numbers of newspapers or writing mechanically and then nervously destroying letters to friends and relations. The paradoxical thing about hotel reading rooms in New York is that though ostensibly maintained for the use and convenience of hotel guests they are at the service in nearly every case of persons who are not only not guests of the hotel, but who, further-

more, are resident New Yorkers. Nearly every hotel in the city has a large num-

ber of patrons who are known as "regulars," who stay for several months at a time, and who are seen very little in the hotel corridors or in the reading room. Occasionally a patron of a New York hotel, perhaps one of its oldest guests, will find it necessary to write a letter or to consult a newspaper file, and when he does he is usually compelled to wait until an outside person not a guest is ready to take his departure.--

New York Sun.

His Notion of Hospitality.

There is nothing like making people feel at home. There is one man in our street, says a Washington writer, who prides himself on it. My friend Lucy called at his house not long ago, and, as

everybody urged her to stay to dinner,

she staid. They had beefsteak for dinner

that night, and it was simply ideal beefsteak. The host urged Lucy to take a second helping, and after politely de-

murring she accepted it. She was eating

it when the young son of the family

asked for more too.

"Don't be a pig, Jim," said his father, with the utmost cheerfulness. "There isn't any more for you. You see," turning to Lucy with a smile of keenest hospitality, "we weren't expect-

ing company."

There is no success so sweet as the success achieved by acting against the advice of our friends.

BRYANT'S MARRIAGE. It Was an Ideal Union Between the Poet and His Wife. Allusion has already been made to William Cullen Bryant's marriage. None could have been happier, no union more nearly an ideal one. Miss Fanny Fairchild was a young lady whose parents had lived on the Seekonk, a stream tributary to the Green river, not far from Great Barrington. Early left an orphan, she made her home alternately with her married sisters in that place, and there it was that Bryant met her. Charming in person, sweet in disposition, lovely in character, she drew him to her through his sympathy with her orphanage, his admiration of her beauty and his appreciation of her worth. For 45 years she was the stay and blessing of his life. What that marriage was to him they knew best who knew him best. Reserved on the subject

to the world at large, he allowed only

those who were nearest him to know the wonderful depth and tenderness of

his affection. Their sympathy was perfect, their dependence mutual.

He said at her death: "I never wrote a poem that I did not repeat it to her

and take her judgment upon it. I found its success with the public to be precisely in proportion to the impression it made upon her." A dear friend of them both has said: "The union between Mr. and Mrs. Bryant was a poem of the tenderest rhythm. Any of us who remember Mr. Bryant's voice when he said 'Frances' will join in his hope that she kept the same beloved name in heaven. I remember alluding to those exquisite lines, 'The Future Life,' to Mrs. Bryant, and her replying, 'Oh, my dear, I am always sorry for any one who sees me after reading those lines;

they must be so disappointed." Beatrice and Laura have not received such tributes from their poets, for Mrs. Bryant's husband was her poet and lover at 70 as at 17.--Arthur Lawrence in Century.

AN ALLIGATOR STORY. It Reminded the Little Man of an Adventure He Once Had.

The owl car was bowling merrily toward Carondelet at an early hour the

other morning. A party of belated citizens was gathered in one corner swap-

ping yarns which would have made the pale cheek of Baron Munchausen mantle with the blush of envy. A portly man with rubicund face had just finished telling a thrilling story of an adventure with alligators in the everglades of Florida. An unassuming little man with gray whiskers, who had been an interested listener, moved over toward the group, and after apologizing for the intrusion remarked that he had had

some little experience with alligators

himself. He was hailed with delight by

the little coterie, and being pressed for a story stroked his whiskers thoughtfully for a moment and then began:

"In the summer of 1889 I was fishing with a party of friends on the Tallahassee river, in the northern part of Florida. All morning we tramped up and down the banks in a vain attempt to entice the illusive black bass from his lair. About noon I separated from the party and went about a mile and a

half father down stream to a point where I thought fishing would be better.

I selected a favorable spot and stepped out upon what I took to be a log which floated near the bank. For two mortal hours I stood upon that supposed log and never got as much as a nibble. Along about 8 o'clock I gave it up in disgust, packed up my tackle and started for the shore. Just as I was stepping on the bank what I had all along taken

for a log moved under me, and, gentlemen, what do you think I had been

standing on for more than two hours?"

"An alligator! I knew it! An alligator!" fairly shrieked the man with the rubicund face. "An alligator," re-

echoed the three congenial spirits.

"No, gentlemen," said the little man as he made for the door. "It was a log." He vanished in the darkness, and the owl car bowled merrily on.--St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

Constituent Parts of a Cord of Wood.

A cord of fairly seasoned wood weighs

about 4,000 pounds. If subjected to a

heat of between 700 and 800 degrees it resolves into three distinct products--charcoal, pyroigneous acid and gasses.

In order to properly bring this change about it is necessary to place the wood in a kiln and apply the heat gradually for four or five days. At the end of that time the residue will be 1,000 pounds of charcoal, 2,000 pounds of pyroigneous acid and 1,000 pounds of uncondensed gasses. The aggregate weight of these products is exactly equal to the original weight of the wood.--St. Louis Republic.

The total amount of gold coined at our mints from 1793 to 1892 was $1,-

582,000,000; of silver during the same period there have been $657,000,000 and of subsidiary coinage of all denominations $24,000,000.

The Atchafalaya river, in Louisiana, was named by the Choctawa. The word means "long river."