"You can tell by the way a young American girl receives or gives a kiss what college she has attended," says Emile Deschamps, the French author, in a chapter of his new book, entitle "Uncle Sam's Women." He writes:

"The best kisses come from Smith college, although the Harvard Annex girls prefer kisses to bon bons.

"The kiss of Vassar girls is like a blow.

"The graduates of Bryn Mawr kiss without batting an eye.

"The ravishing kiss of Mount Holyoke girls can only be likened to a volcano."

"It's amazing how little interest people take in keeping their own property tidy," said the park policeman, who takes pride in Central park, according to the New York Sun.

It was in the Ramble, and he was standing in front of a bench. Beneath the bench were one large pasteboard box, one small one, half full of salt; one large sheet of wrapping paper, one strong piece of twine, two chip pickle dishes, two pasteboard pie plates, six egg shells, three pieces of white paper, more or less greasy and crumpled up; four squares of oiled paper, very greasy; three paper napkins, innumerable crumbs and fragments, including ham fat, rye bread, cake, pie crust and cheese.

"Of course, we all know what that means," he went on. "Family party. Mother and two daughters, I guess. Out for a day of it. Take in the animals and the carriages and the pictures.

"Lunch in the sun, where the hill there cuts off the wind. Just as nice a day as three women could have, and yet they must spoil it this way for them that come after.

"They take home the milk bottles, all right. You can bet they had a satchel to carry them, for, you see, it would cost about ten cents apiece to leave them behind. But anything that they could unload without losing money, there it is.

"Do you know, I was talking about it to a man down where I live—he was state senator some years ago, and he's quite a man. Well, sir, he told me that one day in Paris—Paris, France, you know—he was reading a letter in the street, and when he got through he crumpled up the envelope in his hand and chucked it away. Well, sir, what do you think, but up comes a Paris cop to him and asks him to pick it up, and tells him, police like, that it's a fine and the lockup to chuck things around the streets, not to speak of the parks, there."

While he was speaking the policeman had strolled a couple of hundred feet away from the scene of the picnic party. Two well-dressed men passed by. One of them just at that moment took the last cigarette from a flat tin box. He threw the box into the grass just at the border of the path.

"I wonder what that chap would do if I went up to him and told him to pick up that box," mused the policeman. "I don't really know what he'd do—most likely nothing; but I know what he'd say. He'd tell me he'd report me for impudence to his personal friend, the commish. They're all personal friends of his when you run foul of them."

The park department keeps a force of laborers constantly employed picking up litter in the park. But the cannot keep pace with the industry of the litter makers.

The laws and shrubberies are constantly made unsightly with papers and cartons of all sorts, flung aside by careless people. One day, not long ago, two full newspapers, three sticks and an empty cigarette wrapper were floating in one of the fountain basins at the head of the mall, all at one time.

"I have a confession to make."

Young Tompkins and his wife had just returned from their honeymoon. As they sat in their beautiful little home, Tompkins in a comfortable armchair, with a good cigar, was expressing by every gesture his perfect satisfaction with things in general, relates Cassell's Journal.

Mrs. Tompkins, as she spoke, came over and took her husband's hand in hers. "You won't mind, will you," she continued, "if I tell you something I think you ought to know? The fact is I am not what I seem."

Tompkins started.

"Not what I think you are!" he repeated. "Impossible! As if I didn't know that you are the dearest and sweetest woman in all the world."

Tompkins half-closed his eyes and watched the curling smoke.

"Do you know, my dear," he said, "the best thing about you is your domesticity? You are just a simple, sweet little woman, who doesn't know it all."

Mrs. Tompkins timidly held his hand.

"That is what my confession is about," she said. "In our long courtship I have carefully avoided any of those subjects that might have been calculated to excite your suspicion. But now I might as well tell you that I am really an educated woman. I can speak three languages, am saturated with German opera, have made a thorough study of socialism, transcendentalism, the higher philosophy, education and biology."

The stricken man beside her buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, why," he cried, "did you not tell me this before?"

And his trembling wife replied:

"Alas! I didn't dare! I knew that if I did you would never marry me."

"I was thinking," said a New Orleans citizen, according to the New Orleans Times-Democrat; "I was thinking of what a great thing the duel is—how romantic, how poetical, how honorable! Ha, may the day of the duel never pass! It shall never pass, according to my humble thinking, as long as we have truly good men in this world. I know that it is against the law to engage in a duel, and the law prohibiting it may be good in so far is it prevents ignorant and foolishly impulsive men from inviting uncalled and unnecessary disaster.

"Of course, it is in violation of the law of the land to fight in any manner, yet we cannot but admit that there is often excuse and justification for a fight. What better manner of fight that the duel? I speak of duels among truly brave men. It puts both men on the same footing, gives each the same advantages. One man is insulted at a dance or other social event and he slaps the aggressor in the face with his glove. Noting exceedingly violent happens for further things are settled. The next day or a few days afterward the men meet on the field of battle. Neither of the men takes advantage of the other until the time of the duel comes; on the contrary, the men shake hands.

Shaking hands is probably the most appropriate thing the men can do; for why not shake hands with the man you are about to kill, or who is about to kill you, on the field of honor? If you are going to kill him, certainly it is bad enough that it has been so decreed, and it is better to keep silent when the poor fellow's soul is flying to eternity; and if he is going to kill you, then die without very bad feelings toward him if you can do this. Now, I am not a man who believes in bringing about a duel upon slight provocation; for a duel is a very serious thing and often ends sadly. Duels have brought about the deaths of men of many families, and have brought retribution to many, particularly unnecessary duels, brought on by men whose foolish dreams transported them to fields of artificial honor.

But duels among truly honorable men are, I repeat, to be justified. And I want to add that I do not think laws can prevent duels any more than laws can prevent other fights. It seems as though every man likes duels, anyhow. Read a novel, and much avidity overtakes you when you come across a duel in the moonlight. How you strain your eyes and ears, catching every moment, listening to every word! Sir, you cannot deny it, you like the duel."

Not only the unworthy sluggard might observe the ant and other insects and profit thereby. Science each day adds to the wonders which these little creatures are capable of and puts human creatures to shame, says the New York Herald.

This time it is a sixth sense which a noted scientist has discovered many insects to be fortunate enough to possess. At least they are able to communicate with one another at great distances.

This professor had two ailanthus trees in his yard and these suggested the idea to him of obtaining from Japan some eggs of the ailanthus silk worm. He got a few, hatched the larvae and watched anxiously for the appearance of the first moths from the cocoons. He put one of the moths in a wicker cage and hung it on one of the ailanthus trees. This was a female moth. On the same evening he took a male moth to a cemetery, a mile and a half away, and let him loose, having previously marked him by tying a silk cord about his abdomen, so as to be able to identify him. The idea was to find out if the two moths would come together for the purpose of mating, these being the only ones of their species within a distance of hundreds of miles. This power of locating each other had been previously observed in these insects. In the morning the two moths were found to be in the same cage, the female having been able to attract her mate from a distance of a mile and a half.

Comparatively little is known about the ordinary senses of insects. Most of them see well, the eyes of many being far more elaborate than those of the human being. The eyes of common house flies are believed to be better fitted than the human eye for observing objects in motion, though these creatures are short-sighted. That insects have the sense of taste cannot be doubted when it is observed how nice they are in their selection of foods. That they have smell is a matter of common observation. Most insects are deaf to sounds which are heard by human beings. At the same time, there is no doubt that they make and hear sounds which are entirely out of our range of hearing.

Certain senses in insects appear to be beyond comprehension. The neuters among ants, known as "termites," are blind, and yet they will reduce a beam of wood in their burrowings without once gnawing to the surface. An analogy is found among animals. A bat in a lighted room, though blinded as to sight, will fly in all directions with great swiftness and with infallible certainty of avoiding concussion or contact with any object. It seems to be able to feel at a distance.

An illustration in Youth of the danger that sometimes lies in small fishes is the case of a fish which is common in the rivers of South America, the serrasalmo. It is probably the most fearless of all fishes, very small, of peculiar shape, with powerful jaws, so strong and sharp that they can bite a piece out of an animal as neatly as though it had been done with a pair of scissors. In some places it is impossible to fish, as the moment a fish is hooked thousands of these vicious creatures flock to the spot and tear it to pieces before it can be brought to the curface. The fish apparently does not know what fear is, and has in more than one instance jeopardized human life, if not destroyed it. A traveler in crossing a river on horseback was attacked by these fishes, the blood from his horse's legs attracting them in such multitudes the the animal was devoured as it swam. The rider leaped from its back and swam to shallow water surrounded by the throng. Though protected by his clothing he was bleeding from a hundred wound, and had not the shallow water been near he would have the fate of his horse.

There's one good thing about this Mormon practice of marrying dead persons to live ones. A live husband couldn't be divorced on the ground of non-support.