My good friend Thomas Connolly 
showed me some old coins yesterday, 
which workmen had found in loam be- 
ing put on the Judge Moore estate at 
Pride’s Crossing. One of the coins 
was a penny, dated 1797. Thomas 
Sheehan of Manchester found a span- 
ish dollar in the loama few days ago. 
The loam is brought by cars from the 
old Perley Farm in Topsfield, and at 
least a dozen coins have been found 
thus far. 
The Turkey’s Lament. 
[Written for the BREEZE.] 
Last week I was king of the barn-yard, 
My rights there were none to dispute, 
Now I[’m minus my plume and my gobble; 
Have dyspepsia severe and acute, 
For someone has stolen my gizzard 
And filled me plumb full of sage mush, 
And turned me toes up on a platier,— 
My finish I see with a rush. 
G. E. W. 
Cheaper Foreign Postage, 
So much just criticism has been 
visited upon the post office depart- 
ment at Washington for its failure to 
provide the country with facilities and 
conveniences common to the postal 
service of other countries, that it be- 
comes a source of special gratification 
to be able to record a movement in 
the direction of progress and reform. 
Such a movement is that announced 
by the postmaster-general, who says 
that the department is working for a 
two-cent mail service between this 
‘country and Europe, and also for the 
sailing of a European mail at least 
six days in every week instead of four, 
as at present. It is expected that 
the reduction named will be effected 
by the international postal congress, 
which meets next March. The drop 
from five cents per half-ounce on 
European letters will doubtless result, 
as all other postal reductions have 
done, in an immediate and immense 
increase in the volume of postal busi- 
ness between this conntry and Europe, 
and so, ultimately, lead to a larger 
revenue than under the present rate. 
Enlargements in the postal service 
are always costly at first, but in the 
end all of them, we believe, have more 
than made up for the extra cost, in 
increased business. The rural free 
delivery system has been expensive, 
but it has resulted in a largely in- 
creased amount of mail from the dis- 
tricts favored with the system, and 
there can be no doubt that rural free 
delivery will be, ultimately, self-sup- 
porting, which is all that is to be 
desired. The same will be true of 
one-cent postage, when it comes, which 
will be at no distant day. The postal 
department is no place for petty and 
shortsighted economies of the Madden 
type. — Leslie's Weekly. 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
Yellow Lilies. 
BY KATE RESTIEAUX. 
Once upon a time beloved, long ago, 
I discovered two old houses, queer and low ; 
And between those two old houses, nestled 
there, 
One oe garden smiled upon one sweet and 
air. 
But with houses queer and ancient, little 
friend, 
And a garden, my discoveries did not end; 
For ee through the garden one June 
ay 
I surprised some yellow lilies at their play. 
They were golden-hearted lilies anda dance 
Was their pastime, I discovered at a glance; 
For they dipped and bowed and courtesied 
first to me, 
Then, as sweetly, toward a gray old apple 
tree. 
As they bent and bobbed and capered I 
could smell 
Just the rarest of rare perfumes from each 
bell, 
Yellow petals, yellow anthers, stamens 
sweet,— 
How ee glory seemed to drift about my 
eet! 
I’ve considered those bright lilies oft of late, 
Just as when I leaned above the garden 
gate. 
Through closed eyelids I have seen them in 
the night. 
And, again, they greet me with returning 
light. 
But the houses O, beloved queer and low, 
That I found with such rejoicing long ago, 
And the garden, too, I never more shall see, 
Nor the gate, nor yet the gray old apple tree. 
And the perfume from the lily bells no more 
Shall be wafted to my senses as of yore. 
Yet I often pause as in the long ago, 
Just considering the lilies how they grow, 
And in fancy still I see them dancing there, 
Golden-hearted lilies in a garden fair. 
Eyeless Creatures, 
Some people imagine that nature 
never created anything without eyes, 
but the cavern beetle, discovered up- 
ward of 80 years ago in Austria, is 
found to have absolutely no eyes at all. 
Brought out of its gloomy haunts 
into the light of the sun this little 
creature of darkness dies almost im- 
mediately. 
Darkness is as necessary toit as water 
to a fish, yet when placed in a pitch- 
dark cavern it moves with grear rapid- 
ity and agility. 
A scorpion, also absolutely eyeless, 
chasing a beetle equally blind along a 
cavern wall, is a veritable case of the 
blind leading the blind.— Boston Globe. 
Mr, Watson’s Production. 
A number of Beverly Farms friends 
of Lawrence J. Watson, 2d, went to 
Roxbury Tuesday evening to witness 
the presentation of “An Eye to Busi- 
ness,” an original farce comedy, writ- 
ten by Mr. Watson and presented 
Tuesday and Wednesday evenings by 
the members of the St. Alphonsus 
Dramatic club. 
The comedy dealt with the misad- 
ventures of Ted Morton, who had 
been disinherited by his uncle , Theo- 
2 
dore Morton, because of his refusal to 
marry Phyllis Gray, who happened to 
be the ward of his uncle, but whom 
Ted had never seen. 
The young man, who had been cut 
off penniless, embarked in the theatri- 
cal business, and the fun of the piece 
followed fast and furiously when he 
attempted to put his show in proper 
shape for presentation. During his 
troubles, while he is engaged in trying 
out a number of applicants, Phyllis 
presents herself and is engaged asa 
member of the company. She had 
left her home because of the proposed 
marriage with her guardian’s nephew. 
Young Morton finds himself in a 
greater difficulty than he can cope 
with, but fortunately for him, his 
friend, Alfy Rapp, an ingenuous 
young man about town, comes to his 
assistance and offers financial aid. 
The offer is gladly accepted, and fur- 
thermore Rapp volunteers the use of 
a play which he controls. 
The production met with distinct 
favor, and Mr. Watson is to be con- 
gratulated upon his work. 
Golf as a Medicine. 
Golf as a medicine naturally enough - 
rarely enters into the calculations of 
the young and the vigorous. They 
enjoy life in all its athletic fulness, 
extracting from the glory of their 
strength all the consolations which a 
body without pain and a mind without 
care confer. The middle-aged golfer, 
if he has passed through that period, 
also looks back with brightened 
memories to the days when he, too, 
sucked enjoyment out of the pastime 
of the links, as the bee gathers sweet- 
ness out of the petals of the flowers. 
He who has not tasted those earlier 
joys makes haste to do so when the 
foot of time begins to tread with a 
quickened step. And as each player 
gathers up his impressions, personally 
acquired or received from the experi- 
ence of others, there is a fairly unani- 
mous agreement among all the various 
classes of players that the chief virtue 
which they derive from the game is 
restorative and medicinal. It takes 
them out in the open air, the breeze 
and sunshine when perhaps, in less 
fortunate circumstances of attraction, 
they would stay quietly at home or 
take the solitary and monotonuos walk 
for health’s sake. The lonesome 
ramble is rarely stimulating mentally, 
for it presents too many temptations 
to lapse into the thoughts that are the 
constant companions of the working 
hours. Golf, on the other hand, forc- 
es a man out of his every day preoc- 
cupations and reinvigorates him_ by 
the charm and the witchery of its 
own special chemistry.—London Field. 
