July

It will do no harm to say again that the police of Boston have been instructed to arrest anybody who discharges a firearm of any kind at any time July 5, even if only blank cartridges are used.

The college graduate is beginning now to realize how large the world is and how little there seems to be in it for him to do.

The Lowell Citizen says: ``It is surprising with what ease servants start a bank account, the while those who employ them are struggling to make both ends meet.'' There is food for thought in that remark.

Dr Harris, the U S commissioner of education, is about right when he says that where there are 400 ``colleges'' and ``universities'' in this country conferring degrees there should be about 40.

Good Bostonians will have two conventional meals today - salmon and green peas for dinner, because it is Fourth of July, and baked beans for breakfast, because it is Sunday.

The sea serpent has been seen again, with more finlike projections than ever, and yet there are still those who believe with Mrs. Prig that ``there's no sich'' a creature.

Summer by the calendar is almost half over.

The American Bible society issued 1,000,000 Bibles for the year ending March, 1897. And yet the heathen still continue to rage, at home and abroad.

The Missouri farmer who has succeeded in breeding a species of potato that grows without vines may rest assured that some new bug is well equipped and waiting to get around this sort of bar.

A man who says he knows from experience just where he is at in the Alaska gold diggings reports that the chief food in that region is bear fat, and that to change one's clothing in winter means death. But nothing can probably stop the rush.

It is rather pathetic to learn that Harriet Beecher Stowe, who wrote the most famous book in America, died almost penniless, and that her homestead must be sold. There ought to be enough gratitude somewhere to save it.