344 



THE AMERICAN BEE KEEPER. 



August 



A Philosopher CorrecteiS. 



Wheo Beir^ai liij FraukJm wiiit fe5 

 Paris as the leprcsc utiUivt! cf the re- 

 volted Ampricau coiouics, he had to be 

 presented to the k-'jt;. and it was a mat- 

 ter of some soliciiuce with him how he 

 should array hinisi il' for that cereuioiiy. 



He was anxious uot to be considered 

 lacking in respi < t for the French conrt, 

 where much formi;lity regarding dress 

 was observed, but he knew it would be 

 an affectation for^o simple a repub- 

 lican as he was to imitate the court 

 (dress. He decided, therefore, and wise- 

 ly, to appear in a plain suit of black 

 velvet, with white silk stockings and 

 black shoes. 



Nevertheless, he deemed it best it 

 make one concession to the French fash- 

 ion of the time by wearing a wig- 

 something which he had not been ac 

 customed, to do. He ordered of a wig- 

 maker the largest one the man had^ 

 and in season for the presentation. tJio 

 man himself brought the wig and set 

 about trying it on. 



But do all he could the man could 

 not squeeze the wig on the philoso- 

 pher's head. He tried and tried and al- 

 so essayed to convince Franklin against 

 the evidence of his senses that ttie wig 

 was a fit. Finally Franklin said: 



"I tell you, man, your wig is not 

 large enough. " 



Upon this the Frenchman threw the 

 wig down in a rage. 



"Monsieur," he said, "that is impos- 

 sible. It is not the wig which is too 

 small. It is the head which is too large. " 



Accepting the rebuke as deserved, 

 Franklin went to the presentation with- 

 out any wig and found there that the 

 simplicity of his dress and the honesty 

 and candor of his manners won him 

 more esteem at the court than any con- 

 cession to fashion could possibly have 

 done. — Youth's Companion. 



Possible Decay of the French Cuisine. 



The tendency in all the French res- 

 taurants of the present day is to pre- 

 pare meals for their chance customers 

 who may happen in at any time of the 

 day. Meals are eaten in a greater hurry 

 than forn)erIy, even in France, where 

 it used to be the habit during the 

 fiercest revolutionary and communistic 

 struggles when the time of dejeuner 

 came for each side to stop fighting for 



an Hour or so and devote themselves to 

 the midday meal. The hurry and anx- 

 iety of modern life are slowly destroying 

 whatever was distinctive in French 

 cooking, which cannot be properly done 

 in haste or when food is required in 

 very large quantities. 



The development of club life is partly 

 responsible for this, and the latter is 

 only another sign of the deep lying so- 

 cial problems which confront modern 

 existence at every step. Men in fash- 

 ionable society dine more frequently at 

 the club than they do at their own 

 homes. Fewer people marry than for- 

 merly. Home life is decreasing and club 

 life increasing. Hence the last refuge 

 of the Parisian chef is at the fashion- 

 able clubhouses, which are now counted 

 by the score, and most of which se< 

 very good tables. — Chautauquan. 



Unseasonable Civility. 



~-A northern visitor in Atlanta waa 

 walking with his host in the garden the 

 other morning, when they came upon 

 the gardener, an old negro of 70 years. 



"This," said the host, "is Moses, an 

 old family servant." 



"Mr. Moses," said the northerner, 

 extending his hand and touching his 

 hat, "I am happy to meet you." 



The old negro, ignoring the proffered 

 band, threw his own hat on the grass 

 and, pulling at his wool, made a low 

 obeisance. 



When the guest was gone, he ap- 

 proached bis employer and former mas- 

 ter. "Marse Jim," he said, "ain't de 

 'lection done over?" 



"The election?" 



"Yes, suh; de vctin?" 



"Of course. Why do you ask?" 



"Bekase," said the puzzled old fel- 

 low, "dat's de fust white man dat lif 

 he hat ter me en try ter shake hands out 

 o' season. Dey sholy is somei^in up. "— 

 Atlanta Constitution. 



Iiow Tide Wlien the Moon Rises or Sets. 

 There is one i)oint in the Chesapeake 

 bay where the tide has a definite period 

 to change, and that is the mouth of 

 Hoopers strait, half way between the 

 Capes, at its mouth, and Turkey point, 

 at its liead. It is always low tide at 

 Hoopers strait when the moon rises or 

 sets. At the same time it is high tide 

 at Sandy point, up the bay, and at New 



