A fashionable audience in Paris recently listened to a lecture on chemistry by a celebrated chemist. At the conclusion of the lecture a lady and gentleman who were among the first to leave the hall had reached the open air, when the lady caught her escort staring at her. “What is the matter?” asked the madame, in surprise. “Pardon me, but you are quite blue!” The lady returned to the hall and approached a mirror. She started back in horror. The rouge upon her cheeks had been converted into a beautiful blue by the chemical decomposition which had taken place under the influence of the gasses which had been generated during the lecture. The majority of the women in the audience had suffered in a similar manner. There were all sorts of colors–blue, yellow, violet and black. Some whose vanity had induced them to put ivory on the skin, coral on the lips, rouge on the cheeks and black on the eye-brows had undergone a ludicrous transformation.–New York Tribune.

It Would Test the Patience of a Man on a Record Breaking Train

There is a perpetual fascination about the stars and the immense distances at which they lie from one another and from us. To demonstrate the vast distance of Centauri from this planet a popular scientist gives the following illustration: “We shall suppose that some wealthy directors, for want of outlet for their energy and capital, construct a railway to Centauri. We shall neglect, or the present, the engineering difficulties–a mere detail–and suppose them overcome and the railway open for traffic. We shall go further, and suppose that the proprietors of the interstellar space had not been exorbitant in their terms for right of way.

“Therefore, with a view to encourage traffic, the directors had made the fare exceedingly moderate, viz., first-class at 1 penny a hundred miles. Desiring to take advantage of these facilities, a gentleman, by way of providing himself with small change for the journey, buys up the national debt of Britain and a few other countries, and, presenting himself at the office, demands a first-class single to Centauri.

“For this he tenders in payment the script of the British national debt, which just covers the cost of his ticket, but at this time the national debt from little wars has been run up to £1,100,000,000.

“Having taken his seat it occurs to him to ask:

“‘At what rate do you travel?’

“‘Sixty miles an hour, sir, including stoppages,’ is the answer.

“‘Then when shall we reach Centauri?’

“‘In 48,663,000 years, sir!’”

In 1872 Cream-of-Tartar was 40 cents per pound; in 1892 it was 19 cents per pound. Have the high-price Baking Powder monopolists reduced their price? They have not!

“Calumet” was the first, and is the only high grade Baking Powder offered to the public at a moderate price. Its motto is:–

“Monopoly must yield to moderation–
Impurity must improve or go under–
‘Calumet’ is the standard.”

(Say 1 vol., octavo, about 128 pages, wanting very much a publisher.)

To Death.

Welcome, sad Death, creed of the glazèd eye,
Our last true friend, the fickle hand of maid,
The faith of dame replacing, unafraid
Who clasp they own and with one latest breath

Bid, “Lead me to some palace of the night
That all must know, deprived of mortal sight,
Of earthly comfort, health, and human aid”;
Welcome, thrice welcome, final hope, sweet Death!

Perhaps in that long vision signs decree
Of aspirations and unclaimed desires
That fitly rose to feed immortal fires

The consummation that came not to me
Within this weary width of land and sea,
Of parents, pavements acres, homes, and spires.

From: My Soundspeed Discovery, by George Winslow Pierce. Boston: Published by the Author, 1895.

Jack Grisby of Lawrenceburg, Indiana, was engaged in storing pumpkins in the loft of his barn and his 5-year-old girl was standing near by watching him. A large pumpkin weighing about thirty pounds, rolled from the loft and, falling, struck the girl in her upturned face, breaking her back and causing instant death.

A Western Passenger Train Held Up by a Swarm of Hornets

A swarm of hornets held up a passenger train on the Chicago, Fort Madison & Des Moines railroad, and gave the trainmen and passengers a battle that will be remembered longer by far than if it had been against bandits, says an Ottumwa dispatch to the Cincinnati Tribune. The train was running slowly up a steep grade just outside the city, where the hillside is covered with trees. Suddenly Engineer Cunningham noticed a black mass moving through the air ahead of the train. Had he known what was coming he could have stopped his engine and backed to the next station. The small cloud soon developed into a swarm of hornets. The hornets notice the slowly puffing engine and made for it. They attacked the engineer and fireman, who were forced to stop the train. It was a sultry day and all the car windows were open. This gave the hornets an opportunity to enter the cars and pester the passengers. It was an hour before the trainmen and passengers succeeded in driving away the hornets. A number of persons were severely stung. The train stopped at a farmhouse until the injuries could be attended to and then proceeded to this city.

Tourists returning from abroad report a new fad which has, for the moment at least, superseded the erstwhile popular craze for souvenir spoons; instead, milady now collects dainty handkerchiefs. From the days of Josephine to the present the handkerchief has been an important item in the expenditure of a fastidious woman; a good dresser considers her toilet incomplete without a bit of snowy lawn or linen, which, though scarcely ever seen, and it may be severely plain, must yet be above reproach with regard to fineness of texture. An inveterate globe trotter, who has just returned from the other side, rejoices in an exquisite collection of these cobwebby nothings. At every city or town where she stopped, no matter how short her stay or how insignificant the village, another square of linen as faithfully added to her spoils, and, curiously enough, she readily recalls where each was purchased. So that her handkerchiefs, in a measure, serve her as a sort of note book.

London Tid-Bits: One of the most valuable flocks of Southdown sheep in the United States is the property of Mr. Mansan Migg, the beet-root sugar magnate. A peculiar fact in connection with the flock is that it is looked after, not by sheep dogs, but by six trained Spanish game cocks. They are armed each morning with spurs, and have so fierce a way of attacking any sheep that tries to run away or will not be driven that the animals are now thoroughly afraid of the birds and obey their directions perfectly. Mr. Migg’s daughter brought the birds from the Canary Islands.