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WA*J^0W18RE.irNI(m, W^lffiSflAf,-WAST 23, li?94 YE BALLADE Of Tfc. ENCORE FIENDE. So encoro Hondo eotteth ln.no h'ls'fyne worko. Itte was a lyttle 'encore fiends With oyes:of hen.v'aly liluo, And tee break upne ye show to dldde As tnuoho as ho could doe. 5e audience waxoth Impatient. Itto was a ihuch, tried audience, Who worbcompelled tbe waste An hour an_d.a halfe to suite Ye flondote peculiar taste. ITe performers accede to ye Sonde's demands. ISach pleats upon ye programme was Repeated once or more In answer too y e calles of this Enthnsiastlo bore. Ye avenger appoareth. Itte wn6 a wilde, despairing manne. Who felt that he conld bear This sort of thins no more, and who Just settled it righte thayre. STe fiende droppeth. He fell upon yo yonthfol flendo, Then came a scene of toloode. 'Twas quickly o'er, ye flendlet dropped With a dull, siok'ning thudde. Ye Sonde porlshoth. And as his eyelets gently closed, Never to open more. He feebly clapped his lyttle handes And oalled for an encore. Ye jndg-e decideth in favour of yo defendant. Itte was a judge of aspect sterne, Ye case ho quickly tryed, And sonno tleoided that ye crime Was fully justif yed. Ye flende resteth from his laborious occupation And now ye flendlet lyes beneathe A tombstone chaste and neate. Ko moro he'll clap his lyttle handes Or stamp his tiny feete. —Amusing Journal. REYOLT OF THE Mr. Madax sat before his/lesk in a most despondent attitude, his head in his hands, and his hands in .his hair. Things were going badly in the city, as, alas I they often do. Mr. Madax was alone in his office in Old Gold alley. He wanted time t& think and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. All the thinking he appeared to be able to do did not seem to help matters, so at last he pulled himself together and paced up and down the room. Finally he stopped and said to himself: \That seems the only thing to do. I shall con- sult with my wife. I wish she came home more frequently, and then we could talk over these matters.\ He seized a telegraph blank and wrote: \Mrs. John Madax, 20 Bullion court, oity. Can you run over to Old Gold alley for a few minutes? I wish to consult you on business. Madax.\ He rang the bell for a telegraph boy and sent the message, then, paoing up and down his room again, waited for his wife to appear. Instead there came a prompt answer, whioh he tore open and rend feverishly: \Sony I can't come this forenoon. Too busy. Call on me at 1 o'clook, and I will take you to the club, where we can lunch and have a quiet talk. Joan Madax.\ The worried man consulted his watch. It was not yet 11 o'clock. It would be more than two hours before he could seo his wife. He sat down at his desk and devoted himself for those two hours to what business there was in hand. He brushed himself up a bit, took his walk- ing stiok and drove i n a hansom to his wife's office on Bullion court. After having sent in his name a neat little girl showed him into a room and told him that Mrs. Madax would be with him presently. She was sorry to keep him waiting, but she sent a copy of The Sketch for him to look over during the interval. The Sketoh was a paper started in the nineteenth century and was at that time considered to be rather in advance of the other slow going weeklies. Now, however, it was thought to be the cor- rect paper for a man to read, although the women paid little attention to it. In the reception room two or three other men were waiting, nursing their hats. Presently the office girl came in and told them all, except Madax, that Mrs. Madax couldn't possibly see them until later in the day, as she had an appoint- ment, and would they be good enough to call about 4 o'clock. So the men took their departure, and Madax was left alone with his paper, although his wife entered very soon after. She was a tall woman, with fine, clear out, decided features. As far as the upper part of her was concerned, she was dressed al- most like a man. She wore a somewhat glaring neoktie and a standup collar. Her hair was cut short and parted at the side, while the hair of her husband, dark and streaked with gray, seemed to part naturally in the middle. The neat tailor made skirt whioh Mrs. Madax wore had pockets a t each side, high up and very similar i n cut to a man's pock- ets. Her right hand was thrust into one of these pockets, and she jingled some coins and keys as she entered the room where her husband was waiting. \Well John,\ she cried, \excuse me for keeping you, but we have had a very busy morinng. However, if you are ready now, I am. \Wo will go to the Pine Ear club and have lunch.\ She approached her husband as she spoko and patted him with some affection on the shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled. Somehow her influence had a soothing, protective air about it, which made the man feel that ho was not bat- tling with the world alone. One of the numerous girl clerks came in with a long ulster, which Mrs. Ma- dax put on, thrusting one hand in the armhole and then the other, while the girl held the garment by the collar. \When Mrs. Madax had buttoned up the ulster and put a jaunty round hard hat on her head, she looked moro like a man than ever, and Madax himself seemed almost effeminate beside her. ' 'Is my brougham at the door?'' she asked the girl. ' 'Yes, madam.'' \Come along, John; we haven no time to lose,\ said Mrs. Madax decidedly, and leading the way she opened tin- carriage door, whereupon he stepped in- side. \To the Pino Ear club,\said tin- lady to the coachman. She took her seat beside her husband, and the oarriage drove off toward the west end. In a short time it drew n- bafore a palatial building standing } where, the. Motropole once stowi. . This, as. every one, knows, is the Piue Bar club, the- sumptuous resort of women engaged in business in the oity. It is higher priced than the Carlton or Re- form, but is ranoh more luxurious than either of these old fashioned men olubs, \Call for me at half past 3,\ said the lady to her coaohmau. The stately doors of the olub were opened b y two girl porters, and the cou- ple entered. Tho lady wrote her hus- band's name in a book which was on a Btand in the hall, and together they en- tered the large dining room, where they took their plaoes at one of the small ta- bles set for two near one of the large front windows. \We will take the regular olub lunch,\ she said to one of tho waiters. ''And bring a bottle of '84 ohampagne i—a large bottle. \ \I-T-I don't think I care for oham- pagne,\ said Madax hesitatingly. \It gives me a headache.\ ' 'Nonsense I'' cried his wife. ' 'A glass or two will do you good. Yon look worried.\ \I am worried, and that is what I wished to see you about.\ ' \Well we won't talk business dur- ing lunch, if you please,\ adding as she leaned back in her chair: \It's a habit I never indulge in. It's a bad one. We can have a talk in the smoking room afterward. How are the ohildren?\ \Very well, thank you. The girl is a little hard on the boy and knocks him about a bit, but they are getting on very well\ \Poor little fellow,\ said Mrs. Ma- dax. \Boys are such a worry to their parents when one thinks that they have to encounter this world alone. I must run down and see them next week if I can.\ \I wish you would,\ said Madax. \The children miss you very much. Why don't you come home oftener?\ \Well very soon I expect to be able to do so,\ she replied; \but like-you, I have a great deal on my mind at pres- ent, and the market requires very olose watching.\ \Can't you come home with me to- night?\ he asked. \The ohildren would be so pleased to see you.\ \No she answered. \I have to take Sir Cawar Camp out to dinner tonight.\ \Tomorrow night, then?\ ho sug- gested deprecatingly. \No said the lady, shaking her head. \It's worse still tomorrow night. I have a lot of stockbrokers dining with me at the Holborn.\ \It must cost you a lot of money, these dinners on every night.\ \Yes it does,\ said Mrs. Madax, \but my experience is if you want to mako a good business deal with a man you must first food him well. I always see that the wines are irreproachable. I will say one thing for the men—that they always know good wine when they taste it.\ \Well said Madax, \I will tell the ohildren that you send your love to them, but I think, you know, that a woman shouldn't lose sight of her chil- dren, even though business is absorb- ing.\ She urged him to take his share of the ohampagno, but Madax declined, Baying, \A man must keep his head clear for business nowadays.\ \Yes said his wife. \I suppose a man must.\ There was a slight tinge of sarcasm in her voice, and she put unnecessary emphasis on the noun. Madax looked grieved, but said nothing. How often do women in their thoughtless rudeness oause pain to the tender hearts of those who love them I After lunch was over Mrs. Madax led the way up stairs to the private smok- ing room which she had reserved for their use. It was in a corner of the club building, overlooking a bit of the river and commanding a view of Charing Cross railway bridge. ' 'We will be quite undisturbed here,'' she said, \and oau talk business.\ Einging a bell to give an order, she asked her husband: \What will you drink?\ \Nothing thank you,\ he replied, but added afterward, \I will have a glass of milk and soda if you can get it.\ \You will smoke, of course,\ said his wife. \A cigarette,\ answered Madax. When the waiter appeared, Mrs. Hadax said, \Bring a glass of milk and soda, some of the best Egyptian ciga- rettes, two Havana cigars and a glass of special Scotch with seltzer.\ When these materials were brought and the waiter had .disappeared, Mrs. Madax walked to the door and turned the key i n it. Her husband lit his ciga- rette from the match she held out to him, and then, biting the end from her own cigar, she began to smoke. She thrust her two hands deep down in her pockets and began to paGe up and down the room. \Now John,\ she cried, \what's the trouble?\ Mr. Madax's name was Billy, but everybody called him John because his wifels name was Joan. Mr. John Ma- dax was the name he was known by. \Some months ago,\ began Mr. Ma- dax, ' ' I went into a w 11651 * deal, and I don't quite seo my way out.\ Mrs. Madax stopped in her pacing and faced her husband i n surprise. \A wheat deal!\ she cried. \Whieh side of the market are you OH?\ \Oh I'm on for a rise.\ His wife made a gesture of despair and began walking up and down the room again. \What in heaven's name did you buy for a rise for?\ \Well said Madax very humbly, \you see,, the American wheat'erop had practically failed, and I thought I was pretty sure of a rise.'' \Wily didn't you speak tome about it?\ she cried. Her husband flushed uneasily. \I wanttrl to do something off my own bat, \he said. \Of course I had QO idea at that time there would be a corner in wheat.\ \Cornorl\ sho oried qohtemptuous- ly, \There's always a corner; thero's. bonnd to bVa'oorher. TJb'ri't you know enoughnqt to look to the United States,. any more for indications of the Wheat market? India and tho Baltio hold tho key to the situation.\ \Yes I know, at least Ilmownow,\ he said, \but there is no use. in upbraid- ing me for what I have done. I am up to the neok in wheat, \and the signs to- day are that it i s going lower than ever. Now, what would you advise me to do, Joan?\ \Oh advise you! \she oried. \What's the use of coming to me when i t is too late? I advise you to get out of it as cheaply as you can.\ Her husband groaned. \I am afraid, \he said, \that will moan praotical ruin now.\ \Well my opinion is that wheat is going lower still.\ \Then it is utter rum for me,\ said Madax dejectedly. Mrs. Madax stopped once more in her paoing the room and confronted her husband. ' 'John,'' she said, ' 'why don't you give up your office in the oity and go home and take oare of the ohildren?\ A spark of resentment appeared in the man's eyes as he gazed at his wife. \I don't want to be entirely depend- ent on you,\ he said at last \Poohl\ said his wife, and then she added: \ I will make you a handsome allowance for housekeeping and as muoh as you want besides. You are worrying yourself to death about business. You ought to take a run to Brighton or go off to Monte Carlo and give up bother- ing about oity affairs.!' The man sighed. \That's all' very well, but you don't see that I want to make some money for myself.\ \But you are not making it. You're losing it You say you are up to tho neok. How much does that mean?\ \Twenty-five thousand pounds,\ ho said, with a sigh. \Dear dear,\ she said, \and I sup- pose that is all the money you have.\ \It is more than all the money I have,\-he answered. ' 'I wish you had spoken to me bo- fore. It is too late now. Don't you see that?\ \Yes but I had somothingto propose. You spoke of taking Sir Cassar Camp to dinner. Now, I don't know what you want to get him in on, but I do know that I could get him on my side of the wheat deal, and ho would bring in oth- ers. Then we might be able to stop the break in the market.\ Mrs. Madax's eyes sparkled as she looked down a t her husband. \Can you really do all that?\ sho asked almost breathlessly. \Yes if I had any assurance that we would get out with a little profit. It seems to me that all their influence thrown in on our sido of the market would give us rise enough to get out of the hole at least.\ \Oh said his wife, \that is another matter I Yes,\ she added after thiuk- ' ing a moment, with knitted brows, \that's a first rate idea. How much do you think it would all total up to?\ \About a million,\ said. Madax, pleased to see that he was getting moro attention than censure. \A million,\ said his wife, more to herself than t o him. \Are you certain you could get all that amount on your side of the market?\ \Quite certain.\ Mrs. Madax, as she continued her pao- ing up and down, seemed to be making some mental calculations. She finally asked: \Whom are you running against? Who is at the head of tho corner?\ \Oh that,\ said Madax, \none of us knows. The business is done through the Tokyo and Jamboree bank, but we don't know who is behind it.\ \Now doesn't it strike you that the first thing for you to do is to find out whom you are butting against? If it's a stone wall, the sooner you know it the better, so that you oan stop before your head gets hurt. If it's a hedge, you might manage to get through, It would have been my first work to find out who was against me.\ \But said her husband, \don't I tell you that I didn't know there was anybody on the other side of the mar- ket?\ \Oh said his wife impatiently, \you can always count on somebody be- ing on the other sido of the market. So you can't find out who it is?\ \Wo oan't,\ said her husband. \Very well,\ she said. \Now listen to me. You have got £2,500 in this, and if yon can get all the money of Sir Ctesar and his frien'ds to help you I will guarantee that you will come out with double—that is, £50,000.\ \Do you mean it?\ oried her husband eagerly. \I mean it, \ said his wife solemnly. \And may I tell Sir Ca?sar that you said so?'' he asked. \No. Whatever information I wish Sir Cajsar to have I will give him my- self. You will tell him that you have had to mention the dealer's name.\ \Very good,\ said Madax, with an intense relief i n his face. \Do not let it get out,\ continued his wife. \Use all your force and see if you oan raise tho market, and as soon as the price gets up sell out at.once. Have all your plans made for selling out. Promptness is the thing in these mattern. Now I must go. I will drop you down at your office.\ Mr. Madax knew what his wife said about the markets generally came true, soho, Mfc great jubilation, telegraphed Sir Caesar Curup and others to meet him at his office, and thoy did so. He told him that he had private information about the market, and after some slight hesitation they all went in. He arrang- ed with thorn that tho sale would be made at once al'tur tho rise. Nest day it was announced that a million of mon^y wan put against the corner, and wheat sprang up a few points, lrai Dot a- muck as thay expooc ed it Yi'utild. Madax oonlel have sold out witboiir ;<.!••>', but raw that he would not duui'iv l.-U L.u.i.y, for the corner \cas stronger than any o€ them had .thought,, b.uj after, the slight rise down went the price of wheat again. The Tory bottom seemed, to have,drop- ped out of the market Madax's £26,000 were swept out of eight, and so was the million that his deluded friends had put in with h}m. All confidence that Madax had put in his wife had now de- parted, so he merely-telegraphed to her that he was rained and went home a broken man. About 8 o'clock that night a carriage drove up to the door, and his wife sprang out ,and let herself into the house with her latehkey. When she entered the room, her husband never looked up, but she crossed to where he sat and pat ted him gleefully on the baok. \Come oome, my poor infant, Cheer up I\ she said. Madax's only answer was a groan of anguish. \And so your little £35,000 has gone with the rest?\ she said. \You told me that I would double my money, \he said, \and I believed you.\ \Of course you believed me, and here it is,\ she said, taking a check from her purse. \There's my cheok for £50,- 000, so you have doubled your money.\ \What do you mean by that?\ said her husabnd, looking up. \Mean? You poor ohild I I mean that I am the head of the corner. It doesn't matter now who knows it. That was the reason I had Sir Caesar and the oth- ers dining with me. I had no idea that you were on the other side, and when you told me that you could get them to assist it seemed too good to be true, for I did want that million. HusbandB are of some use, after all Now, my boy, you take that check and go down to Monte Carlo. I may he able to go after all this work is over. I am very muoh obliged to you for the million you threw in my way and consider it oheap at £50,000. Draw on me for all your ex- penses while you are at Monte Carlo. I am sure you will find the tables much less expensive than the London wheat market. I am sorry that I oan't stay with you, but I am on for a dinner in the city. Those who were with me in the wheat corner are giving me a din- ner tonight, and I am due there at 9 o'clook. I am sorry I can't wait to see the children. Give them my love and tell them I will run down in a few days and pay them a visit—that is, unless you take them with you to Monte Car- lo. It must be lovely down there just now. Well, ta-ta. Take care of your- self and your cheek. I may see you at Monte Carlo.\ And with that she left the room and was waving goodby from the carriage window as the dazed man stood watch- ing her through the open door before he had quite realized tho situation.—'Rob- ert Barr in New York Sun. TN'ti PANIC AMONG THE WIUB FOWL AT \TM APPROACH OF A'gTORM. Women and Wall Street. There is an erroneous idea that wom- en who dabble in Wall street are be- painted, bejeweled and live a life of- sybaritio ease. They are popularly sup- posed to roll up and down Wall street in gorgeous carriages with prancing horses and a coachman and footman in livery. It is believed by many residents in the United States that some made their fortunes by the torn of a hand in Wall street, and that the life of the speculative female is one long sunshiny day. If there be any such fortunate wom- en, Wall street men know nothing of them. There are only a few brokers' offices where women are ever seen, and these women do not bend over the tick- er with feverish excitement and sip ohampagne between the rise and fall of prices on 'change. The woman who ventures into Wall street these days is very much out of place. To begin with, few brokers, or bankers, for that mat- ter, care to have women visit their of- fices. They attract too much attention. They have no knowledge of the value of time, and they monopolize a busy man's attention so that business is often at a standstill. Then, as a rule, the av- erage speculative woman is a poor loser. She can understand all about making money and is brimful of good nature while the market is going her way, but when things go against her and her margin is surely and swiftly being wip- ed out she is apt to become disagreea- ble, if not hysterical, so that brokers, as a rule, prefer not to deal with wom- en. And thus comes to an end one of the pleasing fictions of Wall street.— Brooklyn Citizen. Tailing a Telephone to Bod. A doctor's profession requires him, if he seeks convenience and comfort, to have two telephones—one in his office and one in his bedroom. As any one who has to pay tribute to the telephone companies knows, their charges hardly represent the progress that has been made in other lines in the world in cheapening commodities. But necessity is the mother of invention, and a doc- tor in the east end found a way to have the convenience of two telephones and yet only pay for one. He has his telephone hung upon hooks in his office, the connections being made by the tele- phone coming in contact with an eleo- tric board whioh he has had constructed. He also has wires run to his bedroom, where another electric board has been placed The doctor may be said to take his telephone to bed with him every night. He takes it from the hooks in his offioe, carries it under his arm up to his bedroom and places it upon the hooks there. Should any calls come during the night, he can answer them without leaving his room, thereby getting the use of two telephones for the price of one,—Pittsburg Dispatch. One Way to Get There. \Oh Mr. de Cromol I had such a time finding your painting at tho exhi- bition today. It was hung away up in an obscure corner.\ ''Yes. I am disappointed. I shall quit art and start a laundry.\ \Mr. de C'-i'omo'l\ ''Yes. Then my work will always be hung on the line.\-—B. K. & Co.'s Monthly. Instinct Seoius to Warn Them, and They ' Soon Seek PlaoeB of Refuge—Some- times, However, Thfij: Ave Too Far Out at Sea to Got Baok In Time. The heavy storms of the sea trouble' not.theships which sail upoaits waters, : but the many sea birds that live and float upon, the stormy Atlantic are greatly disheartened and frightened by, the furious anger of old Neptune. Along the rocky coasts of New [Eng- land or the sandy reefs of the southern states, the flocks of sea fowl denote tho approaching storm by wild and un- earthly cries, which latter mingle with the roar of the surf and the wash of the rain and spray. Far out at sea the birds utter wild cries of alarm when the ocean begins to darken and the wind to moan across the expansive waste of waters, and with all the speed possible they fly toward some pqint of land to escape the danger. The few which are caught in the storm, far from the land, make the wild screaming of the storm more horrible by their piteous cries a M excited calls. Washed hither and thither by the relentless storm, they fly around in hopeless search for some harbor of retreat. Should the light of some passing vessel or the flash light of some warning light- house attract their attention they are lured on to a danger far greater than that experienced from the waves and winds. Storms do not always warn the birds in time to permit them to reach the shore. The terns, petrels, gulls, ducks ana- other sea fowl may be far from slKir^.skimrriihg ever the sea in graceful sweeps when a coast storm suddenly comes out of the northwest. At the first sign of such a change in the weather, the birds invariably seek some harbor of safety, but if the storm shuts them out from the coast they are forced to fly around in flocks until accident leads them to a safe retreat. Sea fowl at such times flock together, and a lost company may number thousands of birds, repre- senting a heterogeneous collection of all the species of sea birds. Such motley collections frequently dash against the lighthouse of, some ex- posed point, where hundreds of their number are killed by the collision. Ocean steamers serve as an allurement for them, and they follow the light of the vessels as a moth does a candle light. If not attracted by any light, the birds fly around until exhausted by their exer- tions, or until the storm abates. During prolonged storms thousands of lost sea fowl are destroyed upon the ocean through their inability to reach land or to outride the furious gales. While a large proportion of the flock would eventually succumb to the fury of the wind and waves, there are many others that would show their marvelous pow- ers in outriding the storm. To fly against a gale that is blowing at the Tate of forty or fifty miles an hour would require bones of iron and muscles orVtiteeK and the lost birds very rarely succeed! in holding their own in such a storm. They buffet with the gale bravely, circling around and around to make headway against it, but in time they are swept far out to sea. The waves offer no resting place for them and they are forced to trust entirely to their wings for safety. After heavy storms of several days the terns and petrels have been found a thousand miles from the shore, weak and almost dead from their exertions. Others have been discovered floating on the water dead, the black and blue patches on their bodies telling the terri- ble story of strain and hopeless exertion. They fought bravely against the adverse elements and only succumbed after a long battle. Incoming vessels have brought solitary sea fowl that would light upon the masts of the ships' when completely exhausted after fighting against the storms. This welcome place of rest is secured despite all presence of danger from the passengers. Floating spars and wrecks have been the means of saving the lives of such lost birds. They would float on them for hours or days until they became thoroughly rested from their labors, and then they would begin their long jour- ney toward some shore at the first favor- able opportrjnity. Their instinct atjrach times is unerring, and they geneM&ly make for the nearest point of land, al- though it may be hundreds of miles away and they are completely turned around. ^ It may be, however, that they take their bearings from the sun while they are floating upon their temporary restless buoys. Nearly all of the sea birds like to keep out to sea, and in the north of Ireland there is an old rhyme current which in- dicat'es-that the gulls only approach- the shore when driven in by a storm or by the warnings or a heavy gale. The couplet reads: Sea gull, sea gall, sit on the sand, It's never lino weather when yon come to land. When the storm approaches the long, sharp whistling of the curlews, the wild cries of the sea gulls and the sharp, pierc- ing screams of the terns announce that danger is at hand. The sea grows rest- lesB and choppy. An occasional pnff of wind will moan across the water and force whitecaps into motion. The birds then assemble along the shore—some seeking for their food among the rocks half a mile out, while others will run along the beach or go to the inland marshes. As the fury of the storm increases all of them will get in beyond the reach of the wild waves. The heavy wind makes flying a difficult art, and most of them trust to their legs. They run along the sand or hide in the rocks. The terns and gulls will occasionally venture out over the waves to fish for food, but they soon find that the work is unprofitable. When the storm has subsided the coasts ase great objects of interest to the sportsmen. Every species of sea fowl is to be found somewhere aiong all the beaches or inland marshes. They do not return to the wide sea for a day or two after the storm has abated, and then lihey are generally driven there by the hunter's gun.—Detroit Free Press. A TREE WITH A TEMPER. tt Grcjwa In. Arizona M*h. Another Tliot GiYos Jjiffht Elko an Eleotrlc Lamp. \Th are nipro. queer things to the acre, in Arizona than in any other part of this wide land,\ said Colonel Brace Dion of Houok's Tank, Apaohe county, \and according to my idea, and I know pretty near what queer things are, the queerest thing in all Arizona is the tree that has a temper worse than a, blond comio opera prima donna's and gets its dander up with just as small provocation. They tell me out there that this tree belongs to the coniferous species. It grows to be something like 25 feet high and then stops. Its leaves are long, slender and pointed, like por- cupine quills. When this tree is in a good humor, these leaves lie olose to the branohes, and it spreads a pleasant aro- matic odor all around. But when it is angry every leaf on the tree rises up on end, and the aspeot of that particular piece of timber is about as fierce and threatening as anything you would care to look at The pleasant resinous odor the tree sent forth in its peaceful mood gives way to an odor that will put wings on your feet to place as muoh distance as you can between the offensive tree and yourself. ' 'This tree is very touchy on the sub- ject of dogs, and the coming of a canine anywhere near it will instantly make tt furious. Yet a wolf, a grizzly bear or a mountain lion never rufftes the tem- per of this tree if those animals do not presume on too great familiarity with it. They may lie around it as long as they care to, but if one of them so far forgets itself as to rub or soratch the trunk of the tree the hot tempered thing will fly into one of its tantrums in- stantly, and the way Mr. Bear, Wolf or Lion will make himself scarce in those partS is a whole circus to see. Nothing will work this tree up to concert pitch, though, so quick and effeotually as throwing stones at it. Then it will ac- tually rip and tear, and no living thing would think of going within gunshot of it. Some folks out at Houok'B Tank call this tree the porcupine tree, and some say its right name is skunk tree. I call it the holy terror tree. But, no matter what you call it, it is a queer job of nature, and Arizona claims it as her own. \While this tree is the only real, genuine vegetable kingdom orank we've got in Arizona, we point with some more prido to another tree that only Arizona soil has the tsdent to produce. This one is the eleotrio light tree. This treo is not as abundant as the holy ter- ror tree and is a dwarf, seldom having the courage to got more than 12 feet high. Its foliage is very dense, and at night it gleams like an aro light. The light that shines from this tree is so strong that one may sit 25 feet away and read fine print. The queerest point of this tree is that its light begins to grow dim with the coming of the new moon and steadily loses brilliancy until the moon is fulL Then the tree is as dark as a mine. When the moou begins to wane, tho tree's luminosity is gradu- ally renewed, and by the time the moon has disappeared the tree is shining again as brightly as ever. Sometimes the light on this queer tree becomes faint even in the dark of the moon. Then we have to do a queer thing to restore it. We drench it with a bucketful or two of water, and instantly the effulgent glow will return in all its brilliancy.''—New York Sun. Where the Money Is Found. Englishmen are the milk oows of the world. They are the great lenders from whom all other nations borrow. For generations they have been rich and saving until at last their annual accu- mulations have become greater than the annual openings for legitimate invest- ment. So severe has tha pressure be- come that latterly the money lender has been forcing his money into every kind of undertaking, in all parts of the world, creating, by his own eagerness to lend, the corresponding desire to borrow. It is the weight of uninvested money Whioh stimulates borrowing, not the oupidity of the impecunious. Borrowing has not produced lending, but lending borrowing. Interest has continued to fall because there are more lenders than borrowers. If Englishmen think, then, that any communities have dipped too deep into the English purse, they oan easily apply the corrective by a little self control, They should abstain from further lending. This may seem a he- roio remedy, but it is the only remedy. —Contemporary Eeview. She Put Mini to the Test. \Yes darling,\ he said in tones of deep tenderness, \I would do anything to show my love for you.\ \Ah sighed the gentle maiden, \that's what all men say when they ate striving to win a woman's heart.\ \Put me to the proof,\ he said in Wild, passionate tones, \put me to the proof. Test me and see if I fail. Set me any test within the bounds of possibili- ty, and it shall be performed.\ \Ah she murmured, \if I could only believe you I\ \Put rue tothe test. Say to me, 'Do this or that,' and it shall be done.\ ' 'Yes,'' she murmured slowly, ' 'there is ono thing I should like you to do, if\ \Oh tell me, and let me do it! Now you shall behold the height, the depth, the length, the breadth, the circumfer- ence of my love for you,\ he cried ex- ultantly. The maiden dropped her lashes, a smile dimpled the corners of her mouth* as she gently murmured, \Marry some other girl.\—London Tit- Bits. He Might. There'is a man in Chioago who has lived there for 40 years and has visited New York 50 times or more in that pe- riod. He has never uttered a single word in praiso of Chicago or in dispar- agement of New York. It is thought that if he were not deaf and dumb be might make a few remarks.—New York Mail aud Express.
