It seems to me that with the multiplication of books we are losing all sense of literature. Leisure and three books, a bible, a Shakespeare, a Walt Whitman, might make a man truly wise if the seeds of wisdom were in him. I do not know even a wise man whose instinct for wisdom would not be deadened by the frequentation of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. books should be taken in doses no bigger than music or pictures; they are even harder to digest. Thre is more drunkenness in a book than in all the vineyards of France. A book may remake a man's soul. Books should be treated with reverence or cast out as dirt. They are in danger of passing out of the service of the temple into the "parcel delivery" of the grocer.

Nothing is gained by reading a book unless you give to that book more than it brings to you. All these people who read with their eyes only are fatally wasting their time. A book read superficially make the reader more superficial, and to read for "information" is to gnaw at the bones of meat.

To whom it may concern:

We have just learned that some one who does not know, (or seem to care) what he is talking about, has told around the village that we were playing cards for money in our rooms last Friday evening. Now we would like to inform this person who seems ot think he knows more than we do about our affairs, that it was the regular annual meeting of the Fire Department and that we were occupied with business up to 10:30 and after that a lunch was served. After the lunch some of the boys got a table and played a game or two of cinch and went home. Now this person we know to have said something like this once before and as we know who the party is, perhaps he would like to prove what he said. We would like the public to understand that no game can be play in our rooms for money and anyone caught doing it will be properly dealt with. What we would like, is to have this party know what he is talking about after this and not to jump at conclusions and tell people a lot of trash that he knows is not true.

Signed
Excelsior Fire Department.

Mayor Dunne to-day issued a pardon for a mule. The action was taken on the assurance of State Senator E. J. Rainey that the prisoner at the city pound had never before offended and would be good in the future.

The mule is the property of Gerald Broderick, 15 years old, who appeared in the Mayor's office armed with a letter from the senator. He peered over the high railing and caught the attention of Abe Merinbaum, bridewell pardon clerk.

"I want a pardon," said the boy.

"Who for?" asked Merinbaum.

"You have locked up my mule," answered the youngster with a catch in his voice.

Merinbaum read the Senator's letter, consulted with the Mayor, visited the deputy controller and a pardon was arranged.—Chicago Daily News

An extraordinary woman is "William Edwards," whose sex became known only when she was arrested at Brisbane, Australia, recently. Those who knew her in Melbourne, believing there then to be a man, as she was always in men's clothes, state that she was stronger than most men and that she was a very good pugilist.

When she took it into her head to enter a bar she was very open handed with her money. She followed for a time the avocation of horse trainer, and owned the racing pony Tasman. It is also stated that about six yeas ago she was married to a widow.

"Decease" is now a regular form of the word for death. But it began as a gentle euphemism, "decessus" (departure) seeming much less harsh to the Romans than "mors." All languages abound in euphemisms of the kind, which go back to a superstitious reluctance to mention death plainly, that gradually passed into a kindly desire to soften the idea. "Passes away," "departed," "gone," "expire away" (breathe out), "no more," demise," and even "the late" are expressions of this nature. Most striking of all is the Roman euphemism for "he is dead"—"vixit," he has lived.

Medical men are coming round to the view that it is the personal history that is of primary importance, or, in other words, that a man's own manner of life, his record of health, and his circumstances should be more carefully considered than the illnesses that his ancestors died of. Dr. Rabagliati, a medical examiner for insurance companies, who is well known in the profession when he adorns, and of high repute in the north of England, has devoted much thought to this question of heredity from a life insurance point of view In his opinion it is not so much the disease that is transmitted from one generation to another, but organization, or "humanity," as he expresses it. Any member of the human family may suffer from any disease to which humanity is subject, and when an individual so suffers it is the cause of the ailment that must be inquired into. Exposure to this or that set of conditions brings varying results. If the body is exposed to one set of conditions it will take on gout; if another, consumption; if a to a third, cancer; and so on.

Fashionable women have revived the use of the nightcap. It was discarded at least half a century ago, except by grandmothers and elderly spinsters, but now, according to the Drapers' Records, it has again become an indispensable part of a woman's outfit and is included in all trousseaux. The revival is partly ascribed to the doctors. Their incessant advocacy of well ventilated bedrooms has, in the absence over door transoms in English houses, resulted in bedroom windows being opened at night, and women who ar e not robust found the wintry draughts too trying. Another and more distressing cause is alleged by hairdressers. These say that elaborate coiffures are being desired. These are helped by stylish transformations, which are attached at night. To facilitate this arrangement it is said that many ladies have their hair cropped rendering a nightcap necessary. Their grandmothers practised the same folly. Moreover, the new manner of dressing the hair, which introduces an exceptionally careful process of undulation and is submitted to by women three times a week, calls for the use of the protecting nightcap to preserve the freshness of the coiffure.