COLORADO'S CLIMATE. A Region of Outdoor Life Decidedly Favorable to Health. The easterner, bred and born at sea level, has a very vague idea of that part of his country which is at a cloud height, and he has scarcely any conception of the governing climate of such a section. The purely picturesque appeals to the tourist, surely not a serious one, to the high altitude section through which he passes. The Adirondacks have accomplished wonderful temporary healings and permanent cures for certain pulmonary troubles, yet their beneficial results do not compare in extent with those of that section which lies at an altitude varyign from 2,500 to 8,000 feet above the sea, known as the high and dry Rocky Mountain belt, whose heart is Colorado. From a statistical comparative weather bureau report little idea could be formed of this climate, for in these comparative statemetns the dry and rarified condition of the air is not fully appreciated. The dominant feature of this high altitude is light, dry and electrical atmosphere, with its abundant sunshine and clear weather. This is true of all seasons at the 6,000 foot level, or while rain falls in torrents for an hour nearly every day during May, June, July and August, the sun always shines the rest of the day, and ten minutes after the rain has ceased the sandy roads are dry and the air does not retain moisture. After these months not a drop of water falls from the cloudless sky, and snowstorms are few and light. The mercury occasionally drops to 20 degrees below zero during winter nights and rises to 60 degrees in the shade the following morning, while in summer, although a blanket is always a nightly necessity, the thermometer often registers 90 degrees during the day and the heat of the sun is always intense. These extremes are much less keenly felt than they would be at sea level, owing to the dryness of the air. It is a region of out of door life, where regaining of health is a business. Thousands of beings, whose existence would be measured by weeks if they returned to the dampness of sea level, here are well and active. It is true that some cases of pulmonary trouble are not benefited at the 6,000 foot elevation, but either the disease has advanced so far that the invalid could not live more than a few weeks in any climate, or he is affected with some heart trouble. Cases of the latter sort migrate to an extension of this dry belt, whichc descends into New Mexico, along the Pecos and Rio Grande valleys, where the elevation is from 3,000 to 4,000 feet. There the action of the heart is modified, and the patient is more benefited than in the higher portions of the Rockies.--New Science Review.

Saved His Whisky. A Greek fisherman recently decided to branch out a little in a business way,

so opened a small saloon on the water front. He bought a barrel of whisky

from a local dealer, paying 10 per cent down, and agreed to pay the balance when the whisky was delivered. He failed to keep his agreement, and the dealer commenced planning some way to get his whisky or the money. Every time he called on the fisherman he saw the barrel lying in the saloon, and he wanted it. Finally the dealer commenced suit and attached the liquor. The saloon man pleaded poverty, hard times and everything else, but his creditor was obdurate. An agreement was reached after much parleying that the dealer should take the whisky back, keep the 10 per cent that he'd been paid and give the saloon keeper a receipt in full and dismiss the suit. The saloon keeper shed tears as he saw the barrel of whisky carted off and declared he was a ruined man, but he did not close his saloon. The shrewd dealer found that the whisky had been drawn from the barrel and water substituted. He is still wondering how he can get his whisky or the money for it when his receipt is standing against his claim.

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THE ROCK OF REFUGE. REV. DR. TALMAGE'S SERMON ON CHRIST, THE CHIEFTAIN. Remarkable Word Painting of the Great Preacher In Picturing the Attributes of the Saviour--The Hope of All Christians. NEW YORK, Sept. 1.--For his sermon for this forenoon Rev. Dr. Talmage selects a topic which must prove full of inspiration to Christians everywhere. The title of his discourse is, "The Chieftain," and the text, "The chiefest among ten thousand," Canticles v, 10. The most conspicuous character of history steps out upon the platform. The finger which, diamonded with light, pointed down to him from the Bethlehem sky was only a ratification of the finger of prophecy, the finger of genealogy, the finger of chronology, the finger of events--all five fingers pointing in one direction. Christ is the overtopping figure of all time. He is the "vox humana" in all music, the gracefulest line in all sculpture, the most exquisite mingling of lights and shades in all painting, the acme of all climaxes, the dome of all cathedraled grandeur and the peroration of all language. The Greek alphabet is made up of 24 letters, and when Christ compared himself to the first letter and the last letter, the Alpha and the Omega, he appropriated to himself all the splendors that you can spell out either with those two letters or all the letters between them, "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end."

Hail to the Chief. What does that Scripture mean which says of Christ, "He that cometh from above is above all?" It means after you have piled up all Alpine and Himalayan altitudes, the glory of Christ would have to spread its wings and descend a thousand leagues to touch those summits. Pellon, a high mountain of Thessaly; Ossa, a high mountain, and Olympus, a high mountain; but mythology tells us when the giants warred against the gods they piled up these three mountains, and from the top of them proposed to scale the heavens; but the height was not great enough, and there was a complete failure. And after all the giants--Isaiah and Paul, prophetic and apostolic giants; Raphael and Michael Angelo, artistic giants; cherubim and seraphim and archangel, celestial giants--have failed to climb to the top of Christ's glory they might all well unite in the words of Paul, and cry out: "Above all!" "Above all!" But Solomon in my text prefers to call Christ "the Chieftain," and so today I hail him. First, Christ must be chief in our preaching. There are so many books on homiletics scattered through the country that all laymen, as well as all clergymen, have made up their minds what sermons ought to be. That sermon is the most effectual which most pointedly puts forth Christ as the pardon of all sin and the correction of all evil--individual, social, political, national. There is no reason why we should ring the endless changes on a few phrases. There are those who think that if an exhortation or a discourse have frequent mention of justification, sanctification, covenant of works and covenant of grace, therefore it must be profoundly evangelical, while they are suspicious of a discourse which presents the same truth, but under different phraseology. Now, I say there is nothing in all the opulent realm of Anglo-Saxonism, of all the word treasures that we inherited from the Latin and the Greek and the Indo-European, but we haev a right to marshal it in religious discussion. Christ sets the example. His illustrations were from the grass, the flowers, the barnyard fowl, the crystals of salt, as well as from the seas and the stars; and we do not propose in our Sunday school teaching and in our pulpit address to be put on the limits. Resources of Words. I know that there is a great deal said in our day against words, as though they were nothing. They may be misused, but they have an imperial power. They are the bridge between soul and soul, between Almighty God and the human race. What did God write upon the tables of stone? Words. What did Christ utter on Mount Olivet? Words. Out of what did Christ strike the spark for the illumination of the universe? Out of words. "Let there be light," and light was. Of course thought is the cargo and words are only the ship, but how fast would your cargo get on without the ship? What you need, my friends, in all your work, in your Sabbath school class, in your reformatory institutions, and what we all need, is to enlarge our vocabulary when we come to speak about God and Christ and heaven. We ride a few old words to death, when there is such illimitable resource. Shakespeare employed 15,000 different words for dramatic purposes; Milton employed 8,000 different words for poetic purposes; Rufus Choate employed over 11,000 different words for legal purposes, but the most of us have less than a thousand words that we can manage, and that makes us so stupid. When we c ome to set forth the love of Christ, we are going to take the tenderest phraseology wherever we find it, and if it has never been used in that direction before all the more shall we use it. When we come to speak of the glory of Christ the conqueror, we are going to draw our similes from triumphal arch and oratorio and everything grand and stupendous. The French navy have 18 flags by which they give signal, but those 18 flags they can put into 66,000 different combinations. And I have to tell you that these standards of the cross may be lifted into combinations infinite and varieties everlasting. And let me say to the young men who come from the theological seminaries into our services, and are after awhile going to preach Jesus Christ, you will have the largest liberty and unlimited resource. You only have to present Christ in your own way. Brighter than the light, fresher than the fountains, deeper than the seas, are all these gospel themes. Song has no melody, flowers no sweetness, sunset sky no color compared with these glorious themes. These harvests of grace spring up quicker than we can sickle them. Kindling pulpits with their fire, and producing revolutions with their power, lighting up dying beds with their glory, they are the sweetest thought for the poet, and they are the most thrilling illustration for the orator, and they offer the most intense scene for the artist, and they are to the embassador of the sky all enthusiasm. Complete pardon for direst guilt. Sweetest comfort for ghastliest agony. Brightest hope for grimmest death. Grandest resurrection for darkest sepulcher. Oh, what a gospel to preach! Christ the Chief. His birth, his suffering, his miracles, his parables, his sweat, his tears, his blood, his atonement, his intercession--what glorious themes! Do we exercise faith? Christ is its object. Do we have love? It fastens on Jesus. Have we a fondness for the church? It is because Christ died for it. Have we a hope of heaven? It is because Jesus went there, the herald and the forerunner. The royal robe of Demetrius was so costly, so beautiful, that after he had put it off no one ever dared to put it on, but this robe of Christ, richer than that, the poorest and the weakest, and the worst may wear. "Where sin abounded, grace may much more abound."

"Oh, my sins, my sins!" said Martin Luther to Staupitz, "my sins, my sins!" The fact is that the brawny German student had foun a Latin Bible that made him quake, and nothing else ever did make him quake, and when he found how, through Christ, he was pardoned and saved he wrote to a friend, saying: "Come over and join us great and awful sinners saved by the grace of God. You seem to be only a slender sinner, and you don't much extol the mercy of God, but we that

have been such very awful sinners praise

his grace the more now that we have been redeemed." Can it be that you

are so desperately egotistical that you feel yourself in first rate spiritual trim, and that from the root of the hair to the tip of the toe you are scarless and im-

maculate? What you need is a looking glass, and here it is in the Bible. Poor and wretched and miserable and blind and naked from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, full of wounds and putrefying sores. No health in us. And then take the fact that Christ gathered upa ll the notes against us and paid them and then offered us the receipt! And how much we need him in our sor-

rows! We are independent of circum-

stances if we have his grace. Why, he made Paul sing in the dungeon, and under that grace St. John from desolate Patmos heard the blast of the apocalyp-

tic trumpets. After all other candles have been snuffed out, this is the light that gets brighter and brighter unto the perfect day, and after, under the hard hoofs of calamity, all the pools of worldly enjoyment have been tramped into deep mire at the foot of the eternal rock the Christian, from cups of granite lily rimmed, puts out the thirst of his soul.

The Alleviation of Death. Again, I remark that Christ is chief in dying alleviations. I have not any sympathy with the morbidity abroad about our demise. The emperor of Constantinople arranged that on the day of his coronation the stonemason should come and consult him about the tombstone that after awhile he would need. And there are men who are monumaniacal on the subject of departure from this life by death, and the more they think of it the less they are prepared to go. This is an unmanliness not worthy of you, not worthy of me. Saladin, the greatest conqueror of his day, while dying, ordered that the tunic he had on him be carried after his death on his spear at the head of his army, and that then the soldier, ever and anon, should stop and say: "Behold all that is left of Saladin, the emperor and conqueror! Of all the states he conquered, of all the wealth he accumulated, nothing did he retain but this shroud." I have no sympathy with such behavior, or such absurd demonstration, or with much that we hear uttered in regard to departure from this life to the next. There is a common sensical idea on this subject that you need to consider--there are only two styles of departure. A thousand feet underground, by light of torch, toiling in a miner's shaft, a ledge of rock may fall upon us, and we may die a miner's death. Far out at sea, falling from the slippery ratlines and broken on the halliards, we may die a sailor's death. On mission of mercy in hospital, amid broken bones and reeking leprosies and raging fevers, we may die a philanthropist's death. On the field of battle, serving God and our country, slugs through the heart, the gun carriage may roll over us, and we may die a patriot's death. But, after all, there are only two styles of departure--the death of the righteous and the death of the wicked--and we all want to die the former. God grant that when the hour comes you may be at home. You want the hand of your kindred in your hand. You want your children to surround you. You want the light on your pillow from eyes that have long reflected your love. You want your room still. You do not want any curious strangers standing around watching you. You want your kindred from afar to hear your last prayer. I think that is the wish of all of us. But is that all? Can earthly friends hold us up when the billows of death come up to the girdle? Can human voice charm open heaven's gate? Can human hand pilot us through the narrows of death into heaven's harbor? Can any earthly friendship shield us from the arrows of death and in the hour when satan shall practice upon us his infernal archery? No, no, no, no! Alas, poor soul, if that is all! Better die in the wilderness far from tree shadow and from fountain, alone, vultures circling through the air waiting for our body, unknown to men, and to have no burial, if only Christ could say through the solitudes, "I will never leave thee, I will never forsake thee." From that pillow of stone a ladder would soar heavenward, angels coming and going, and across the solitude and the barrenness would come the sweet notes of heavenly minstrelsy. Dying Words. Gordon Hall, far from home, dying in door of a heathen temple, said, "Glory to thee, O God!" What did dying Wilberforce say to his wife? "Come and sit beside me, and let us talk of heaven. I never knew what happiness was until I found Christ." What did dying Hannah More say? "To go to heaven, think what that is! To go to Christ, who died that I might live! Oh, glorious grave! Oh, what a glorious thing it is to die! Oh, the love of Christ, the love of Christ!" What did Mr. Toplady, the great hymn maker, say in his last hour? "Who can measure the depths of the third heaven? Oh, the sunshine that fills my soul! I shall soon be gone, for surely no one can live in this world after such glories as God has manifested to my soul." What did the dying Janeway say? "I can as easily die as close my eyes or turn my head in sleep. Before a few hours have passed I shall stand on Mount Zion with the one hundred and forty and four thousand, and with the just men made perfect, and we shall ascribe riches, and honor, and glory, and majesty, and dominion unto God and the Lamb." Dr. Taylor, condemned to burn at the stake, on his way thither broke away from the guardsmen, and went bounding and leaping and jumping toward the fire, glad to go to Jesus, and to die for him. Sir Charles Hare, in his last moments, had such rapturous vision that he cried, "Upward, upward, upward." And so great was the peace of one of Christ's disciples that he put his finger upon the pulse in his wrist and counted it and observed it; and so great was his placidity that after awhile he said, "Stopped!" and his life had ended here

to begin in heaven. But grander than that was the testimony of the worn out

first missionary, when, in the Mamertine dungeon, he cried, "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me in that day, and not to me only, but to all them that

love his appearing!" Do you not see that Christ is chief in dying alleviations?

Toward the last hour of our earthly residence we are speeding. When I see the sunset, I say, "One day less to live." When I see the spring blossoms scattered, I say, "Another season gone forever." When I close the Bible on Sabbath night, I say, "Another Sabbath

departed." When I bury a friend, I say: "Another earthly attraction gone

forever." What nimble feet the years have! The roebucks and the lightnings run not so fast. From decade to decade, from sky to sky, they go at a bound.

There is a place for us, whether marked or not, where you and I will sleep the last sleep, and the men are now living who will, with solemn tread, carry us to our resting place. Aye, it is known in heaven whether our departure will be a coronation or a banishment. Brighter than a banqueting hall through which the light feet of the dancers go up and down to the sound of trumpeters will be the sepulcher through whose rifts the holy light of heaven streameth. God will watch you. He will send his angels to guard your slumbering dust, until, at Christ's behest, they shall roll away the stone. Christ in Heaven. So, also, Christ is chief of heaven. The Bible distinctly says that Christ is the chief theme of the celestial ascription, all the thrones facing his throne, all the palms waved before his face, all the crowns down at his feet. Cherubim to cherubim, seraphim to seraphim, redeemed spirit to redeemed spirit shall recite the Saviour's earthly sacrifice. Stand on some high hill of heaven, and in all the radiant sweep the most glorious object will be Jesus. Myriads gazing on the scars of his suffering, in silence first, afterward breaking forth into acclamation. The martyrs, all the purer for the flame through which they passed, will say, "This is the Jesus for whom we died." The apostles, all the happier for the shipwreck and the scourging through which they went, will say, "This is the Jesus whom we preached at Corinth, and at Capadocia, and at Antioch, and at Jerusalem." Little children clad in white will say, "This is the Jesus who took us in his arms and blessed us, and when the storms of the world were too cold and loud brought us into this beautiful place." The multitude of the bereft will say, "This is the Jesus who comforted us when our hearts broke." Many who wandered clear off from God and plunged into vagabondism, but were saved by grace, will say: "This is the Jesus who pardoned us. We were lost on the mountains, and he brought us home. We were guilty, and he has made us white as snow." Mercy boundless, grace unparalleled. And then, after each one has recited his peculiar deliverances and perculiar mercies, recited them as by solo, all the voices will come together into a great chorus, which will make the arches echo and re-echo with the eternal reverberation of triumph. Edward I was so anxious to go to the Holy Land that when he was about to expire he bequeathed $160,000 to have his heart, after his decease, taken to the Holy Land in Asia Minor, and his request was complied with. But there are hundreds today whose hearts are already in the Holy Land of heaven. Where your treasures are, there are your hearts also. Quaint John Bunyan caught a glimpse of that place, and in his quaint way he said: "And I heard in my dream, and, lo! the bells of the city rang again for joy, and as they opened the gates to let in the men I looked in after them, and, lo! the city shone like the sun, and there were streets of gold, and the men walked on them, harps in their hands, to ring praises with all, and after that they shut up the gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them!"

WHAT A FROG'S CROAK DID. A Peculiar Incident That Led to the Invention of the Telephone. It is not common knowledge, except to those familiar with electrical and telephone history, that the first telephone was constructed in Racine, Wis., and that the inventor, Dr. S. D. Cushman, is now a resident of Chicago. His offices are in the Stock Exchange building. Here the venerable inventor, who built the first telegraph lines in this part of the "far west," pursues his business with more alertness in affairs than the average young man. In a corner of the room is a large, worn piece of muslin, on which is painted in thin color a representation o fa telegraph line stretching away in the distance, connected with a crude instrument set on two logs, near which a frog is sitting by a stream. This old relic represents the telegraph line of "good cedar posts" which Dr. Cushman constructed west from Racine for the Erie and Michigan Telegraph company in 1851, and the experimental lightning arrester which led to his discovery. It is a reminder of the days when Dr. Cushman was associated with Professor Morse in the pioneer days of telegraphy. On his desk is the first telephone transmitter, constructed in 1834, 25 years before the bell patents were taken out. It is a small, square box, with a speaking orifice and containing a mechanism on the same principles as that of the modern transmitter. In 1851 Dr. Cushman undertook the construction of a lightning arrester, his object being to take the lightning that struck the wire and run it into the ground, the instrument being so constructed that it would not interfere with the light current used in telegraphing. This instrument was placed out on the prairie on two logs, and in order to know when it had operated a triple magnet, with a sheet of thin iron at the poles, similar in construction to modern "receiver," was placed in the corner of the box. In case the lightning passed through the instrument the elec-

tro magnet would pull this strip of iron down into the range of a permanent magnet, which would retain it until the instrument was inspected.

A similar device was placed in the basement of the building at Racine and connected with the other end of the line. One day while a thunderstorm was coming up and Dr. Cushman was watching the instrument the croaking of frogs was heard 13 miles away. This is the explanation of how the old painting with the crude instrument and the frog is identified with the discovery of the telephone. Dr. Cushman is the inventor of the fire alarm system in use in Chicago. His patent office reports, he says, "would weigh a ton" and contain a great number of his electrical patents.--Chicago News.

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TURNING THE TABLES.

The Unfortunate Lawyer and His Client, the Nurse.

The extent to which lawyers can exercise their imagination when pleading in behalf of their clients is almost beyond belief, but sometimes the tables are turned in a very unexpected fashion. On one occasion Mr. S---- was engaged in presenting the case of a woman who petitioned the court to grant her a judicial separation from her husband, a workingman, and urged that as she was in extreme poverty she was entitled to alimony according to her husband's means. With a voice broken in its pathos the lawyer dilated on the imperative necessity of the case, declaring that his client was utterly destitute, not having a mattress to lie upon, and not possessing the means to purchase a crust of bread. When the evidence had been heard the judge, who well knew the counsel's unlimited powers of exaggeration, turned to the appellant and addressed to her a few questions. "Have you then no occupation?" "Yes, my lord; I am a nurse," was the incautious reply. "And where are you employed?" "I am at Mr. S----'s," she unwittingly rejoined, pointing to her counsel. It was with the greatest difficulty that the judge refrained from joining in the shout of laughter with which this admission was hailed.--Boston Traveller.

A Year Clock. Queen Victoria has one clock which the indolent muse envy her, especially

the man Matthew Mears, about whom the verses of the eight day clock were

written. The timepiece of royalty is a fine example of Louis Seize work by the celebrated Lepaute of Paris. The case is ebonized with ormolu mounts. The movement, which is in perfect order, re-

quires winding but once a year.

THE UNHAPPY CABMAN.

One of the Gotham Fraternity Tells a Tale of Woe.

"A cabman's life ain't all bear and skittles," said an up town Jehu the other day. "Nobody ever thinks of givin

poor cabby a tip, and lots of 'em seem to take a sort of pride in never payin a

cent more than the legal fare. A man don't haggle over 15 cents in a store, but

he will fuss over that rate card till he's black in the face for fear he'll give me too much. After that they'll walk off

and stick out their chests as though they had done a good action. They calls it bein strong minded, I s'pose, and strictly just and all that sort o' blarney--mean, I calls it. More than once I've driven a well dressed man down town and had him jump out and go into one o' them big office buildings. "'Wait,' ses he. 'I'll be out in a minute.'

"Well, say! If I'd waited till he come out I'd be there yet. All them buildings has two or three entrances, and he goes in one and slips out o' the other. "Why a man should take a cab down town when he's hard up beats me. I s'pose he can't fool the cable car out of a nickel, but he can do me out of a dollar. Some of 'em will get out of a cab in some mysterious way when they gets to where they want to go. You drive on to the address they've told you, likely 10 or 12 blocks farther on, and find your cab empty. How they do it is one too much for me. It makes lots of noise gettin out of a cab when it's movin, but they do it. Women don't often beat a man out of his fare, but they're pretty bad about payin 'em. I'd rather take my chances any day on bluffin a man out of more'n his fare than a woman. You can't rattle a woman half as easy and she's twice as obstinate. "About the only time we get a cinch is in winter when there's lots o' slush around. There ain't any talk about drivin' to the station house and askin the sergeant of the desk what's the fare from Twenty-third to Fifty-eighth street. Take it all around, a cabman's life is a dog's life, and yet there's just as much competition as in anything else."--New York Tribune.

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In the Nature of a Warning. Elderly Relative (with means)--Al-fred, this young Miss Peduncle you

want to marry--what kind of a girl is she?

Young Man (with expectations contingent on elderly relative's last will and testament)--Aunt Rachel, she is the best girl alive! She plays the piano beautifully, she can paint on china, speak French like a native and--

"Plays tennis, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes; she's a capital tennis player." "Rides a bicycle?"

"To perfection."

"H'm! Wears bloomers?"

"Er--sometimes."

(Grimly)--"You had better find out if she can cook."--Philadelphia Times.

The Banavia Flea.

All tourists in the highlands know Banavia. They may not know why a lobster is, in the west highlands, called "a Banavia flea." From a book referred to we gather that a good many years ago an American was stopping at the

Banavia hotel, and he made himself very obnoxious by his contemptuous remarks on Scottish scenery. "Ben Nevis," he said, "do you call that a moun-

tain? You should see our mighty Rockies! Loch Linnhe! Do you call that a lake? You should see our Lake Superior!" and so on. The highland waiter was exasperated, and procuring a live

lobster he secreted it, in requital of the insults, in the American's bed. Hardly had the American gone to sleep when the lobster caught him firmly by the toe, and he jumped out of bed with a yell and rang for the boots. "Boots," he said solemnly, rubbing his toes as he spoke, "you may not have such big mountains and big lakes here as we have in the states, but you have the most tarnation big fleas I ever experienced."--London Paper.

Missouri produced, according to the last census, year, 308,807 bushels of rye from 24,282 acres.

The Spent Cannon Ball. General Sherman's reminiscences of wartime are very entertaining. One of

the most magnificent specimens of manhood I ever saw, said he, was a soldier

who was constantly laughing at the poor fellows who became fatigued by long

marches or who sank under seemingly trifling wounds. His courage, health and strength seemed invincible. One day a heavy projectile from the enemy's cannon--what we call a spent ball--

came rolling along. The temptation to

put out one's foot to stop such a ball was irresistible. The soldier I have men-

tioned yielded to it. With a merry smile he put out his foot, and in an instant it

was cut off, and he sank to the ground

a maimed, shattered cripple for life,

weeping like a child at his awful

fortune.

OCEAN CITY. A Moral Seaside Resort. Not Excelled as a Health Restorer. Finest facilities for FISHING, sailing, gunning, etc. The Liquor Traffic and its

kindred evils are forever prohibited by deed.

Every lover of Temperance and Morals should combine to

help us. Water Supply, Railroad, Steamboats, And all other Modern Conveniences.

Foraging in India.

All the captured cattle were penned into the houses, and filled them all, so

the troops and officers had to pass the

night in the open with no bedding and no food. It was bitterly cold, and beyond green wood, which would not burn, no fuel was obtainable. It was amusing to see the officers trying to cook some mutton for themselves, as one of the sheep was killed for dinner, but what with the green wood, its smoke, no cooking pots, etc., and the impossibility of obtaining any hot water, the meat dinner had to be given up. Some one said pea soup would be excellent. So, procuring a small brass pot, he proceeded to soak some of the mules' grain, but this also was left, as not even a fusebox could be utilized with success to make soup in. Milk from the Waziri cow was the next suggestion, so three specially selected officers were deputed to try to tame a cow. After many trials and heroic efforts, and many butts and kicks, a cow was caught and tied; but, alas, she was dry. Goats were the same. Finally hunger conquered, and pieces of mutton stuck on to a stick and roasted over the smoking fire had to be accepted as the evening meal. The cold at night was very trying, and sleep was denied to all, for one's feet grew so cold that every hour a sharp walk was imperative to keep one's circulation up. Added to these, there were a rowdy camel and a vicious horse careering about most of the night, and last, but not least, an army of rats, who would insist on running over one's face and body.

Puzzled. "Say, mister, how long before the mail man'll be round yere?" was asked of Officer Barter yesterday by a very verdant hayseed who was toying with the lock attached to a United States mail box at Fifth and Morrison streets. "Why? What do you want to know for?" inquired the officer in turn. "'Cause I've got a letter yere that I want to get to my folks up the valley." "Well, look at the card on the end of the box; that will inform you when he'll next call for the mail." "I have, but I can't wait so long," responded Mr. Hayseed, "'cause my sister is up yonder street with our team.

I've a great mind to break that goldurned lock to get my letter in, as I

want my folks up the valley to know right off that we've got the measles up to our place."

When Officer Barter showed the verdant one how to drop his letter into the box without tampering with the lock

Mr. Hayseed gave a long, low whistle, exclaiming:

"Goldurn me! Yere I've been waiting and banging on two hours for that letter man to open the lock of that goldurned thing. Say, mister, when did they invent that newfangled machine?"

For Humanity's Sake. Young Man (boastfully)--I am going to cross the Atlantic in this 20 foot boat with no companion but this dog. Goodby, friends--

Humane Officer--I must stop you, sir. "Stop me? What for, pray?" "Humanity"--

"Humanity! Haven't I a right to risk my life if I"--

"Oh, that's all right, but I must interfere. The dog can't go."--Cleveland

Plain Dealer.

ALBERT GILBERT. MARK LAKE. GILBERT & LAKE, House & Sign Painters.

STORE AND SHOP: 609 ASBURY AVENUE. A full stock of paints and painters' supplies always on hand. Give us a call before purchasing elsewhere. Work done by the day or contract. Jobbing promptly attended to. Estimates cheerfully given. Guarantee to do first-class work and use the best material.

SMITH & THORN, 846 Asbury Avenue,

PLUMBING & DRAINAGE.

All kinds of Pump, Sink, Drivewell Points and Plumbing Material constantly on hand. All kinds of Jobbing in our line promptly attended to. Best of Material used. Experienced workmen constantly on hand.

Thousands of lots for sale at various prices, located in all parts of the city. For information apply to E. B. LAKE, Secretary, Ocean City Asso'n, SIXTH ST. & ASBURY AVE.