^?W" be â- Bded. 5ht in the wfc'^y- ' says a writs^'^*" beats ^vtr-^^^^oro â- Ji»^ C^Sts light, fisher folk md her son on He the Jeof herhea« **» f^eadfe^-ell 'â- •^ so much pleaj,,,! sands. Jfo '-^ sooner. fnedthemeTirtheir I^,!^^^l^anoaTa.d Wfears and the fate 1^^ m her nii'fl [the boy at homeo^ they must be face, Pnde. Had not he ^a captain when he ^hcnhe .ventdoM-n }!Wwasthelastofhis iiwior itby tame aii,| t- No the bcygrew ,:, as a mast, nimble as est boat, bine-eyed d, a real son of the 'ght him the tricks of whoAvto sail a boat many little things ii'ow. Whenever e Av-as soon aboard, I now work was per- .vasa great favorite lolk and with the t his thirteenth year ained the consent of a he easily found a I. Then there was by the mother, while ito .he great, wide as eagerness of a boy. cssaig the widowed very night a h^t ard window uf her leward and to show awaiting his return, months passed and village and told how d all was well, and le cottage and told e waiting n^her, e candle, lit â- and m ake a -bright^ath X months elapsed, 1 from far-off lands, to tell of the ship, opened and she was ;t make port, bu -- their heads and he widow, whose every night and cif light out upon assed, but the sail- iight no news of the whispered apart and never any spoke of one was cruel threads which thus the the sea I burned steadily no dev ope. And out towaffl The children who id had grown to be n head had beensil- â- rm was bowed, yen cables of her hope, er and tender hands er as she patiently ling of her fair-hair- it the glow of her eaward and teld the t waiting at home, she watch and wait? e day. at eventide patch of light across w remauied dark, :on failed the fisher- idered and went to that the mother s k the son. he Oongo Eailroad. Lre now engaged ou ur hun ired of them theothersaremost- e" m coast. The car- d .asons are native heir trades in Sier.-» of the force are en- iding operations. A :i the coast near tne ,oks, and about fiftj ro miles of the road- starting from tne latMatadi,mne .e-fourthsofallt'ie inthefirstten^^ level plateau bacc bed. The work -five Europeans, w perintendenta. 1 Otothiag- ,iny old coat jej: cloth, cashD.e^ ^o^^ ia waters, •emovedb^^ YOUNG POLKSL, c,^« 0? a Little Boy Who Was Turned '^^^ ' Into a Bird. 'i^-^-i^'vx\oi his birtn nothing else on earth ip" be do b^t whine and cry. I â- J verv, very much |S" no one woidd go near hun "' n^P -aid "It beats the Dutch r;iP"^Ti., Alan in the Moon could hear him; ' tfiiy. t"' " tav-^ home was upon the beach i scream is heard. ' rii the •ica-gull's !- 'f 'here- a bird knows how to screech, Seagull is that bird. lief ^T" 'high r.he ani their best when the winds blow Uy grows dark and hazy ,^'rt"that boy begin to cry ^yd ted drive the sea-guils crazy. .! at !a.t they said "Oh. joy !- '«• mu-t be very dull ..".ild is no use at all as a boy, -jf.' hcd make a splendid gull r •'-hcT flew and told the king 't; v told him not to doubt it l» "-hi^ bov's scream beat everything lilt all there was about it. r kins hf addled his best curlew ^11 tiew down the wind like mad I „?p :,.k it was a funny horse- don't you I I ' -X.va-i the; only kind he had.) ;j A-hen he heard that little boy yell t -bought his ears would split, ,i -0 he turned him into a guii, ,;.;i noboay cared a bit. -KOBEKT H. FLKTCHE?. in St. NICHOLAS. 15 ADYENTUEE WITH TEAMPS. BV ELL-*. WHEELES WILCOX. 'Be careful about the fires, Clarence and windows be- I k.-v.re and lock the doors and re ,ou go to bed." •Yea, father." ' A;id don't leave the house alone any ,;;.;th of time. We will be back by to-mor- jDiv iiuon, if possible. There are so many I trimpb roaming about the country now, the louse might be ransacked if you were to I leave it alone," said his mother. •1 wdl see to everything, and forget [soiling," answered Clarence. He was a bright, manly boy of fifteen â€" I the only child of his parents, who resided in I the :own of M â€" â€" in Ontario. They I vere well-to-do farmers, with a comfortable I home, and the neighborhood was a peaceful, I |a!e: one, where Clarence had*spent his tftten uneventful years. During the summer of which I write, the whole Province had been full of homeless, idle .;ieii, known to us all as tramps. The lianl limes had thrown them out of vrork, and Miiiny of them had determined to beg ethers to steal, for a livelihood. All sorts CI n):nors of petty thefts and robberies, and assaults, and sometimes murder, were heard from neighboring places, but so far the town ei M had only been annoyed by beggars aiid loungers. That A-ery day a villainous- looking fellow had been to the kitchen and lie^v-d Mrs, Ward â€" Clarence's mother â€" for sornething to eat, and she had got him a giil hiuch and allowed him to rest an hour .11 \\\'i kitchen before going farther in his lilies: for employment. And now slie and her husband were called tu a, neighboring village, some eight miles liisjuit, by the sickness of her sister, who rjsi.'-jil there, and Clarence was tobe left alone ill his h'j house, until the ne.xt day. I feel uneasy about you, Clarence," said n;. Wi. tu- car- you you other, as she took her seat in the r beside her husband. '"I wish ill t;et some neighbor to stay with u-lU." "!iu-cnL-B laughed. "Vdu talk as if I were a baby, mother," he ii'T. • "It is not at all likely any of tr fr. lU' â- :â- •,' ta.i:i lie i I V. ;â- ri\ the .ps kr.ow you lia\e been called away .1 linnie so suddenly, and they are no â- •-' likely to trouble the house to-night last night. I am not at all aii-aid. rby. Give my love to auntie, and don't y about me." â- waved his hat after the retreating car- rin^'e, and with a merry whistle turned to- wa: 1 the staldes, where there were cows to :ii;!k. and horses to feed and bed. He w:as hard at work when he heard a yoioe speak his name, and looking, saw Mr. JSav.ytr, a neighlxn- who lived half a mile dis- tal. :. approaching him. '•Where is your father " asked Mr. Saw- yc:-. 'â- ! want to see him alxut that trade we aie 1 1 ying to make. " "(Joiie." said Clarence, arid then explainsd t.i â- situation. ".\ud you are all alone," said Mr. Sawyer. "-\:e you not afraid?" ' liaenee flushed with boyish pride. He â- v^as a fearless boy, and he did not like to be conj^idered lacking in courage. "Because if you are," continued Mr. Saw- Jt 'I w ill run home and tell my wife about it. and come back and stay over night with yoi." ' "Oil. no, thank you," returned Clarence "I am not at all afraid there is nothing to "be '.fraid of." Mr. Sawyer remained chatting with him ';n:il he had tinished his chores, and, with a P'.ilk pail in either hand, returned to the hor.se. Tiiey paused by the kitohen door. It was How early dusk. 'â- lie sure and lock up well," said Mr. lawyer, "before you go to bed, Clarence." 'Jarence glanced at the kitchen door. He "ad left the key upon the outside when he ^â- ent to the barn, and it was gone I "Look here, sir," he said, laughing, "you are trying to play a. game on me. Give me tfje key." â- â- \Vha^ key?" cried Mr. Sawyer, in W'a7.ement. "Why, the key to-th'is door that you took f'lt a few moment* ago to give me a scare. "•onie, hand it out. "ion thought you would *ee if I was as brave as I claimed, didn't youvWell, you see I am not at all shaky t'Ver the absence of the key but all the stine I would like it." "Upon my honor, Clarence," cried Mr. Sa-A-yer, "I have not touched the key. Let us look around in the grass by the door. " They looked vainly. "Ah, well, it is no matter," said Clarence, ^relessly. "I am quita sure the fronv door *ey will lock this. And now I must gp in ^d strain the milk before the cream riseb. jlother told me to, so good-night," "Good-night, Clarence," and Mr. Sawj^er "Was gone. Clarence strained the milk, and lighted a !*'np, and brought in the wood for the morn- ing hre, and laid the pine to put intokindl- '^gs, and the batcher knife beaide it, on the *tove-hearth. Then he went over thehooae, •^d locked windows and doon, all but the â- *itchen door, which. JMi»y would fit. •'It is very curious about that key," he «^H(«i^ "^nknow I left i«^te ikminair -mbm^ I went out. I believe Sawyer did take it to try my courage. Never mind^-I'U fixit." He took a stout piece of oak, ttsneral feet long, and iH-aced it under the door-knob and against the floor. It fastened tne door so securely that any attempt to open it from the outside would onlj* serve to brace it tighter. Then, weary with a day's labor â€" ^for he was a hard-working boy, and never idle â€" he made himself ready for bed. But before he retired he took down his father's double-barreled shot-gvm, and set it within reach of his bed. He knew it was loaded â€" his father had been shooting field gophers only the day before, and had left both barrels loaded. Then he blew out the light and tumbled himself into the little bed jtist ofif the kitchen, and was soon asleep. He did not know how long he slept, but he awoke suddenly to hear a key fitted and turned, again and again, in the kitchen door. His first thought was that Sawyer was playing a trick upon him, but when he heard stealthy steps go around the house, and the sash of one of the kitchen windows being slowly and cautiously sawed away, he knew it was not Sawyer, but a burglar. He crept from his bed and drew on his clothes very quietly. Then he took the gun, and stealing along as silently as a cat, placed himself before the window whsre he heard the roboer at work. It seemed hours before the sash was removed â€" hours measured by the wild beating of his young heart, that throbbed so loudly he almost feared it would betray his presence. Then he heard a hoarse voice whisper, " Give me a match," and heard the match struck against the Avail, and he knew he had to contend A'ith at least two assailants â€" how man}' more he could not tell. The match made a momentary gleam in the darkness. Enough to show him the body of a man half way through the opening in the window enough to enable him to raise his gun and place it against the breast of the man, and fire. But the cap snapped, and the match went out, and the man droj)ped into the darknoas without. Desperate, and conscious only of peril, Clarence thrust the gun through the aper- ture and fired into the darkness. His as- sailants now knew that -he was in their power. Both barrels of his gun were empti- ed, and they were unharmed. Quick as the spring of a furious cat, one of them leaped through the window and seized him in the darkness. He clung I to his gun, and beat hisenemy over the head and shoulders with it whenever he could make use of his arm. " But suddenly it was snatched from his grasp, and then a desperate thought flashed into his mind. He legan to jerk ' himself and assailant back toward the stove. If he could only reach the knife he had left on the hearth with the kindling, he might save his own life at the sacrifice of another. The robber's hands were on his throat, and death seemed very near â€" horrible, murder- ous death, in the darkness, and alone^when he reached out and felt the stone-hearth, cold, under his hand. Another jerk, another reach, and the knife was in his hand, its blade hurried deep in his assailants heart. Then he felt. the warm blood spurt over his hands, the clutch of the robber loosen, and sick and, horrified, he sprang up and kicked aside the oaken prop that fastened the door, and rushed out into the night. He had conquered one of his enemies alone and singlehanded, but he knew not how many more lurked outside. His calls and cries brought Mr. Sawyer to the door, to listen to the boy's excited tale, and see his Idood-stained hands. "It is better not to go back to-night," said Mr. Sawyer. "We do not know how many of tiieni "there may be. Let us wait till morning. " At daybreak they returned to the scene of the horrible struggle. The kitchen floor was covered with blood, and the sheets from the adjoining bed were missing, evidently used to bandage the wounds of the assassin, of whom no trace could be found. He was never found, and no trace of the would-be robbers has ever been obtained. A week later, in the loft of the barn, on the hay, the sheets Were found, stiff with Idood, and as ierfectly red as if they had been in the dyer's hands. It seemed probable that the Wounded man had died and been secretly conveyed from the barn, as had he been carried away living, the sheets would not have been left. Nothing else from the house Was taken. The robbers were evidently in haste to get away from the scene of their attempted plunder without a further loss of life. I do not think Clarence could be- hired' to stay alone in that house now, and the fear that the surviving tramp will yet wreak vengeance on his head for the life he took' to save his own, is ever present with the bravie boy, who is still regarded as the young herO ofM The Sabbath Chime. And lighten with celestial fire. 'fhou the anointing Spirit art. Why dost thy sevenfold gifts impart. Thy blessed unction from above In comfort, life, and Are or love. Enable, with perpetual light The dullness of our blinded sight. Anoint and cheer our soiled face With the abundance of thy grace. Keep far our foes, give peace at home Where thou art guide, no ill can come. Teach us to know the Father, Son, And thee of both to be but One. That, through the ages all along. This may be our unending song Praise to thy eternal merit. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Brief Collect for the Day. O Thou who dwellest in the sanctuary not made with hands, eternal, in the heav- ens. Unveil the glories of Thy fawe to our waiting souls. May we have close and tender fellowship with Thee and* with Thy Son in the holy mount. Make us to know the joy of those whom Thou causeth to approach unto Thyself. May heaven come down our souls to g^eet And glory crown the mercy seat. Expression in Woman's Dress. Mrs. Edmund Russell, fthe exponent of the Delsarte system, in a lecture on dress, gives some valuable hints in regard to woman's costume ' 'For a woman of light physique, delicate coloring, vitality, energy and movement, aJiy draping, clinsing ma- terial â€" soft wool or lustrous silk â€" ^haa a peculiar adaptation. Repose is an idea in- separable from size let the stout woman's dress create that feeling â€" ^material that will fall in rich heavy folds, imbroken lines, deep, soft color â€" and she is at her best. The tight- fitting black silk or satin, her usual grand costume, is a great mistake. The lights re- flected from a brilliant surface reveal the form revealed form is vulgar, suggested form is poetic. A tall, angular Woman wants something light and floating â€" a ma- terial that will follow every n^ovement, mul- tiplying lines and obliterating angles. Proper radiation of lines has everything to do with the grace and expression of a gown. Tfle shoulders and hips are natural points of support. Let the drapery fall from these, and the result is a seriea of long, curving radiations that give life and beauty. With every change of position there is a new seriea of lines, all free to follow the swing and sway of movement. Little catches and fasten- ings are stiff and meaningless; they break the long sweep that alone gives ease and gtace." One of the saddest sights at a picnic is to see a young man, withithree -bousAS la^^a as hens' eggs on the back of his neck rowing a msrry party ot girls on thelake. An Episode at a Oormtiy Post-office Win- dow. Scene â€" A post-office in a large country town. A long line of impatient applicants thronging up to the single window, the line headed by two well-dressed ladies. Time, 6:15 p. m. First Lady â€" "Is there anything for me this evening " Delivery Cler'.c â€""I beg your pardon â€" the name, please " Fii-st Lady â€" "Struthersâ€" Mrs. Alice Struthers, Box'Ji." Clerk (returuii;g) â€" "Nothing, ma'am." First Lady â€" "Ah Sorry to trouble you, but will you kindly go back and look in Mrs. Jackson's bo.x â€" 94?" (Clerk returns with two letters for Mrs. Jackson.) "Thank you." (Hands them to lady number two with a smile, while crowd surges up as closely as politeness will permit.) "Now, if you please, 1 would like to get some stamps. " Clerk â€" "Yes, ma'am. What denomin- ation, please " First Lady â€" "Denomination " Clerk â€" " i'es â€" ones, twos, threes orwhat?" First Lady â€" "Oh I thought your remarks had a religious bearing? Let me see. What denomination do I want " (Turning to lady number two. ' I want to send that lace fichu to Nellie, you know, dear. How much post- age should j'ou think it would take " Second La ly â€""I suppose you would want to put it in a box, wouldn't you " First Lady â€" "Oh, of course â€" such deli- cate material. " Clerk (impatiently) â€" "Let m^ have the package, ma'am. I will weigh it and aflBx the proper stamp. " First Lady â€" "Ah, but I haven't it with me. How much postage should j-ou think would be necessary for a lace fichu in a small pasteboard box " Clerk â€" " About ten, cents, ma'am." (First lady lays her shopping bag on the shelf of the delivery window, opens it and begins to search for her purse. The long line of Her Majesty's patrons which has been wiggling about like a snake for five minutes, now makes a convulsive forward movement and jostles lady number one with lady num- ber two. Both turn with a glance of well- bred but withering indignation, and the abashed crowd shrinks into itself. First Lady (producuig coin) â€" " Ah have just ten cents left, How fortunate (Clerk tosses out a ten-cent stamp and the crowd once more surges expectantly for- ward). "Oh! that is the new ten-cent stamp, isn't it What a beautiful green " (Shows Stamp to lad}' numl)er two and then turns again to clerk.) " What do they call that shade of green, please " Clerk (thoroughly exasperated) â€" " I don't know. " First Lady (deliberately closing shopping bag and looking at stamp in the hands of second lady) â€" " I should think it was milori green â€" shouldn't you, dear? Perhaps, though, it is a trifle â€" " Clerk (explosively) â€" "Madam, will you pennit me to wait on the gentleman behind you " Both ladies (with freezing politeness) â€" " Certainly, sir " 'They move off and the man next in line is shot up against the shelf by the compressed crowd like a bolt from a cross-bow. First Lady â€" " What a shockingly impolite young man " Stecond Lady (contemptuously) â€" " A per- fect boor " (And they fling out, vowing that they will never .trade at that post-ofSce aiy more' The Best Govemed City in the World. A CltyKnmby Bwtlmess Men •m. Baslaess PrlMclples. From an article in Harper's MagaziTie for June we take the following â€" Attention has been called to ther youth of Birmingham in its relation as the best-governed city. There are many warm admirers of Mr. Joseph Chamberlain who associate his name and enterprise with the city's new birth. It is only measurably fair to do this, but certain- ly he deserves great credit for many import- ant reforms and accomplishments. His ap- pearance in public life in Birmingham, some time before he was Mayor, was the occasion for the awakening of the best men of the town to an interest in the local government. This was in 1871 Mr. Chaml^rlain, then in business as a manufacturer of wood screws, entered public life unostentatiously, but was soon elected Mayor, and served three terms in that oflSce. Under his bold and able administration the water-works and gas-works were made public property, the Health Department was more than modernized, and the Improvement Scheme which will be explained further on, was instituted. But first as to the gas ex- periment. Birmingham is the home of the invention of gas-lighting, but the town did not adopt the system until 1817, after London had done so. In â- time two companies came to supply the city. It was in 1874 that Mayor Chamber- lain moved the purchase of those corpora- tions. The tax -payers voted for the scheme in the same year, and the necessary Parlia- mentary statute was enacted in July, 1875. In the same year the check of the then borough of Birmingham, drawn for £450,000 (^,250,000), was paid to the Birmingham Company for its property and rights and in January, 1876, the sum of £103,845 ($519,- 225) was paid to the Staffordshire Company for its interests. The systemization of the new undertaking was more or less compli- cated and costly, but all that is necessary to be stated here is that, as a result, the price of gaa has been materialK" reduced to the corporation of the city and its citizens, and the investment returns AK ANTTU-'VL PEOFIT of more than $150,000. The price of the commodity in 1875 was three shillings to three and a half shillings per thousand feet, but in 1884 it had been reduced to two shillings and one penny and two shillings and fivepence per thousand feet. Five per cent, discount is allowed for prompt pay- ment. The. officials claim to have shown by an exceptional illumination near the main public buildings that gas, used at its full strength, is capable of competing with the electric lljght. Their demonstration would not sati^ a resident of an electric-lighted Canadian city, however. It must be remembered that Birmingham has the natural pride of the comprises 47,275 acres, and an aggregate popotatinHidh60S;JiM8oals. Hereiiadbem a more or less compact population SERVED BT KATUKE with only a little river, the Tune, and niain- ly putting up with old-fashioned methods and conditions. To-day what has been done is {minted to as the best solution of the sewage problem in England. The Drainage Board now manages a so-called farm of 1200 acres in the Tame Valley. The sewage is con- veyed thither through an eight-foot conduit, and is passed through the land by an exten sive system of filtration by gravity, after which the effluent reaches the Tame River near by in the condition of perfectly pure water. The sludge remaining after the dis^ posal of the fluid is dug into the land. The cost of the farm and appurtenances was about £400,000, and, roughly speaking, it costs £54,218 a year to operate it. But the meat, milk, and vegetables grown on the farm and sold from it realize nearly £25,000. It is in- sisted that in time the system will yield enough to pay its cost. In dealing with this problem the authori- ties separate the night-soil and ashes from the sewage. THE NIGHT-SOn. is controlled by what is called the pan systemâ€" metal pans, capacious enough for a week's usage, being periodically carted away in closed wagons, which also remove the ashes collected in a tub in each yard. The wagons are not offensive, and the de- positing station presents a view of flowers and of shrubbery outside its enclosure. Here the night-soil is dried and sold as pou- drette, or patent manure. • There is a pro- fit of a few pence on the ton in this branch of the work. The ashes are sorted by a contractor, who takes 'out whatever is of value. The rest is melted in furnaces and made into a coarse material, partly vitreous and partly metal, which is used to fill hol- lows, or, when mixed with Portland cement, makes a good paving slab. The Drainage Board in charge has bon-owing powers and rating (or taxing) powers for the payment of interest and the repayment of loans. For taxing, it serves precepts upon the authori- ties of the different localities in the union, according to the number of rate-payers or tenements. I! Saved by a Brave Engineer. As Frank Repp, the engineer of the Perkiomen mail train which reaches Allen- town. Pa., early in the morning, looked out of his cab window on his morning trip the other day he saw a beautiful woman ap- proaching on the track. He whistled an alarm, and she stepped lightly and gayly off the track his train was travelling on the other track. But-it was evident to the engineer that the noise of his train had drowned the roar of another train approaching from behind her in the opposite direction, and that she was unaware- of her peril. He noted the birthplace of gas-lighting, and that the cor- several puffs of white smoke that swiftly ' â- arose from the locomotive bearing down ' upon her, but she evidently heard not the poration is t'ne owner of its gas plant, so that it is not an unbiassed judge of thecomparative qualities of the two systems of lighting. • For more than thirty years the public owiiership of the water -supplj' of the city had been proposed and held in abeyance. In 187i Mayor Chamberlain- moved the transfer by agreement, or the compulsory purchase, of the water-works, then in private hands. Both toM'n and.council' were convinced by his arguments, tod voted accordingly. Dur- ing the discussion Mr. Chamberlain urged that whereas there should be a profit on the gas undert3,king, there should be none ou that of ^HE WATER SUPPLY, whistle's frequent warning of danger. Repp saw her death was certain unless he could in some way attract her attention to her peril. He waved his hand to her waming- ly, but she evidently misunderstood its meaning, for she slackened her pace, look- ing at him more earnestly. He immediately reversed the lever and turned on the steam brakes with a sud- deness that alarmed the passengers. He sprang to the side door of the cab, and be- fore his locomotive had come to a stand- still he leaped to the opposite track just as I his engine got abreast of the young woman ' ii^A,! 11.. J i 4.- I and the other locomotive had almost reach as all profit should go toward a reduction of j^ I the price. The water company fought hard against having to sell out, for their property was of great and increasing value. Before the House of Commons, in the argument over the necessary bill, the fight was bitter, but it was won by the high-minded policy ed her. With herculean streiigth and lightning swiftness he caught her up bodily and leap- ed with her beyond the tracks just as the other engine swept by.. Then he sank to the ground, overcome by the effort and of Mr. Chamberlain in urging that the City's ^he narrowness of their escape. The paa- ° --^ â- •; sengers were loud m their praises of his heroic conduct, and the young woman wats Li the ^mds of an Artist. Obdurate- Parent (wrathfally) â€" I know what these painter fellows are. Why, that young Palette would run through your money in a year's' time. His Daughter^ Yes, papa but he would spend it with such' exquisite taste. A BeligLoTffi'Diiiik. Bibulous â€" William, what is°your latest in' vention in the way of a mild drint? WiUiam (bifidiing with prof eaaiOnal pride) â€" De very ladest is a relidgeoastrink, vich I calls de soul's so-lace. Bibulousâ€" Well, give me an old-fashioned drink o' gin. I'm an agnostic- Deceitfol Sign-Board. Owner of fish pond (to man who is' tres- passing) â€" "Don't you see that sign, 'No Fishing Here'" Angler (with an injured air) â€" "Yes, and I dispute it. Why, there's good fishing jiefe look at this string. " â€" Harper's Weekly. Making Little Progress. Greorge â€" " Have yon andyonr wife decided y^what to name the baby 1" Jack â€" " N-no, not quite but the list of three hundred and sixty names which my wife picked out has been reduced to one hundred and seventy." Georgeâ€"" Well, t««at's making proaress." Jackâ€"" Y-e-s- but you see about naif of the three hundred and sixty nu;is|,j||^^for another kind of a baby. ' ' " V* " only profit should be in the health of its people. The bill received the royal assent on August 2, 1875. The dicker over the sale was a close one, but it was finally agreed to give the water company £54,491 annually. The Town Council at once assumed control of the works, and has continually -enlarged and improved the "plant. The profits, which are handsome, are applied to the improvement of the supply and the reduction of the cost to the consumers. Up to 1884 the' annual reduction in water rents had amounted to £25,934. The Improvement Scheme undertaken by the city under Mr. Chamberlain and the â- rown Council of 1875 will long be pointed to as one of the most stupendous, courageous, and wise acts ever performed by a municip- ality. Taking advantage of an imperial statute called "the Artisans' Dwelling Act," giving large towns and cities the right to improve unhealthy areas, the Council im- proved several highways, and finally bought up a great tract of slums and narrow pas- sages in the heart of the city, and there laid out THAT NOW BEAUTIFUL AVENUE called Corporation Street, which is one of the handsomest streets to be seen in any city in any part of the globe. The squalor and crowdmg had been fearful, and the death-rate outrageous vice, crime, poverty and drunkenness flourished there and the saloon-ke«Ders were the only persons who led endurable lives. A loan of £1,600,000 was obtained at three and a half per cent, for thirty years, the property was purchased, the great street, twenty-two yards wide, was laid out, and the area was rebuilt on leases' running seventy-five years. Super- 'vision was maintained over the character, cost, and designs of the new buildings, with the result that in the principal street at least all are stately, substantial, and even elegant. Of course at â- the end of the leases they will be- come the property of the city. "This," said Mr. Chfunbenain, "will make this the rich- est borough in the kingdom sixty or seventy years hence. It is the cmly occasion for which I wish to live beyond the ordinary term of human life, in order to see the re- sult of this improvement, and hear the bles- sings which will then be showered upon the ComkcQ «f 1875, which had ^e courage to inangar»te this scheme." Bat the stranger sees the result now, and if hewill^ he may read it in 'die mnitary reports which idiow t^t the death-mte is to-day less ihan one- hidf what it ww before the renovataen was nlade, Ai MLhi, under ICayor Chamberlain, in 1876, the 3r«iiiage and sewage ys t ems^iere over- haalBd. IL-iaaaa. xtnis formed with th« toWfiidoae around Binaingbaia; andcar a board in which the ;!ity elects tmelve out of tiraoll^-two meinbenn ^^le^muitod district prostrated with shock, while overcome with gratitude at the noble conduct of her pre-, server. In the Zhojah Tnnnel- An article in the Allahabad Pioneer gives some interesting particulars concerning the tunnel that has just been completed through the Khojah, on the railroad from Quetta to Candahar. The Khojak Pass is 7,500 feet above the sea, and about 2,000 feet above tue level of the surrounding country. The tunnel pierces the range at right angles, and its course is therefore due east and west, and it enters the hill about 1,000 feet below the crest of the pass. The length of the tun- nel is 12,600 feet, or2i miles approxinmtely, and it 'will carry a double line of rails. For the first half the floor ascends about 1 in 1,000, and for the second half of the journey it descends at an incline of 1 in 40. There are twomain shafts, one 318feet andtheother 290 feet deep, which were simk in order to facilitate the construction of the timnel. The chief obstacle to progress arose from the flooding of the tunnel at more than one point. A large spring was cut and the water flooded the shaft on the Candahar side to the depth of 180 feet. It took ten weeks to pump out the water, and in the western heading as much as 500 gallons a minute were constantly rushing out of the west mouth. In order to over- come this difficulty a side cutting had to be made. The magnitude of the work is testi- fied to by the banks of shale and rock at the mouths of the tunnel and at the pitheads, which are said to be quite altering the land- scape in places. One curious discovery made during the* progress of the work, as the result of an investigation into the cause of certain mysterious explosions, 'was that it was proved that "ccmbustion had arisen in- side d case of blasting gelatine. " â€" • A Hioe Ifeighborhood. Deacon Ebony â€" "I heah you hah moved, Brndder Black.' Has you got inter a select neighborhood " Brudder Black â€" " I hab, fer a fac' dea- con. Nebber saw sich a selection oh chick- ens in mah life." One of Many. • Thompsonâ€" " You look pale and thin, Johnscm. Why will jou persist in killing yourself working night, and day sneC weather as this ' Johnson â€" " I am trying to earn mopey emwigb to pay ^e expenses of i week's Hit in the conntiy." ' 1 m i^mmmeminm^ssmk^ ^fiii^iliiiiiiteiiiai^^iii^MMttfa ^HgHnylj^ ^mtmt^ MisaiittHiiU ^tm mMm^ iiUiiiiiiiiilMit