I would see them in the morning standing by the hour in the passage of the colonial manager’s house, or waiting in the snow outside his door, to speak to him or his assistant, who happened to be otherwise engaged. They had probably some little business to transact with those officials before starting for their homes, often many miles from the colony, and it might be of the greatest importance to them to get away as soon as possible. If the weather happened to look threatening, every minute would be more than precious; but there they would stand waiting, as immovable as ever, and to all appearance as indifferent. If I asked them if they were going to start, they only answered: “I don’t know. Perhaps, if the weather don’t get worse,” or something to that effect; but I never once heard the smallest murmur of impatience. The following occurrence, for which my informant vouches, illustrates this side of their character: An inspector at Godthaab sent a boat’s crew into the Ameralik Fiord to mow grass for his goats. They remained a long time away, and no one could understand what had become of them. At last they returned, and when the inspector asked why they had been so long, they answered that when they got to the place the grass was too short, so they had to settle down and wait till it grew. * * * * * THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS. Death Follows Evil Dream. Having dreamed a tramp had entered her home and killed her, Minnie J. Stephens, seventeen years old, daughter of John Stephens, former postmaster of Attalla, Ala., and prominent in social circles, secured her father’s pistol and examined it to see that it was in order for use in case a tramp appeared. While examining the weapon, it was discharged, the ball puncturing the intestines a dozen times and causing a fatal wound. Shows Big Ear of Corn. The Reverend Asher S. Preston, of Portland, formerly pastor of the Wayne Street M. E. Church, Fort Wayne, Ind., stopped off in Fort Wayne on his way home from his farm in Steuben County. He had with him an ear of corn which was 14½ inches long, and was raised on the farm of Mack Pogue, just across the road from the Reverend Preston’s farm. Pogue’s corn average about 100 bushels to the acre. Don’t Balk at Pink Oysters. Pink oysters are the latest freak of nature under investigation by experts of the department of agriculture. The rosy-hued bivalve comes from beds in Long Island Sound, looks like a regular oyster when gathered, but turns up pink on the plate of the ultimate consumer. Frightened epicureans besieged the bureau of chemistry with inquiries, and a volunteer poison squad found the pink oyster not only harmless but delicious. The chemists have a theory that the oysters are turned pink either by a wild yeast bacillus or some other micro-organism. Hen Kicks Out Man’s Teeth.