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A MIDSUMMER SERMON. Bab Interpolates Some Striking Anec dotes About Children. Liberality in Religion, and the Few People Who Know What It Really Signifies You and I and “Our Views”—-A Manly Little Chap, Hon est From the Word Go—A Lesson to Be Learned From the Sports of the Youngsters. Mount Washington, Md.,Sept. I.—Why Is it that there are people in this world who believe that there is no way of going to heaven except on the paths chosen specially by them? And why is it these people invariably go about the world pro mulgating this narrow doctrine? Nobody knows where it first emanated from. Certainly not from the lips of the God- Man. He very distinctly said that "in His Father’s house were many mansions.” If there are many mansions there must be many roads leading to them. Therefore, . who can say which is the right and which is the wrong? My friend, the fanatic, be lieves that all of us who were born before the Divine Son, all of us who never heard of Him, will boil forever in oil as hot as her temper. My friend, the attitudinarian, thinks that if you and [choose to say a prayer silently instead of kneeling and calling it out loud in the synagogue, >so that all men may hear, that God will refuse to listen to the quiet petition. My friend, the platitudinarian, is more than certain that because you and I de cline to listen to the monotonous opinions of a newly graduated clergyman over flowing 1 with his own greatness and elect to read some dear old book of sermons, the seed of good words is lost upon us, and we can hope for nothing. THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE. My friend, the latitudinarian, considers himself broad, and yet he thinks that when you and I would give a bit of hope to every sinner that we have gone quite beyond the line, and that our broadness has become liberality. How little he knows that in that very word of liberal ity is comprised all that is of all re ligions, for it means giving to every think ing human being the right to choose his own method of worship and to live up to it. It has been a word much misused, and yet, in its best sense, it is like the faith of little children, which is the one that we are told is the best of all. Speaking of children, and one is forced to speak of them very often during the summer time. lam reminded that the best doctor I had during a week of illness when all the world seemed miserable and even the sun didn’t shine, was a little child. Every day, or rather every night, he came to pay me a visit, and being a manly little chap his visits cheered me up, and it did seem that there might be some gold in life except that caught in his curls. He was not a seraph, nor a cherub, nor anything abnor mal ; he was a beautiful, bright, frank boy with a manliness that best expressed itself in his giving another boy a thrash ing because he spoke of his sister. This gallant champion was 5 years old, but we all congratulated him on his victory. A CHAMPION OF THE TROLLEY. I asked him not long ago if he would re member me when we were far away from each other, and he said: “Well, I might for a little while, but I am pretty sure if I did not see you I might forget you.” The fact that there were some sweets in my hand couldn’t bring this boy to tell what wasn’t true. At present, his ambi tion is to be a motorman on a trolley car. But, surely, with the good common sense that he already displays, he will be put some place where he can be a teacher of men. That Is what we want—among our public men—among our preachers, legisla tors. lawyers, and all those whose word counts for something in the history of the state. We want the honest frankness of a little child. Children are naturally honest politicians are not. Watch children when they are playing. In the beginning things are divided equally; it is true that in the course of the game or through the wheed ling power of one boy the marbles, or the sweets, may in greater numbers belong to him, still they started out square enough, and they are generally more than anxious to stick close to the rules of the game. How many people do that in life? How many politicians do it? • The rules of the game are ignored and the starting out square isn’t even allowed. The rules of the game, whatever that may be, whether it be life, the old one of politics, THE FASCINATING ONE OF LOVE, or that equally fascinating one played with the picture cards, loses its interest when the rules are forgotten. Who cares if the game is won. if cheating counted as little or nothing? How can one care much for the girl who gained her lover bv false tricks and underhand ways? I How can one be interested in the poli- ; tlcian who sells his power, and he thinks only of tilling his pockets? Or, what is there in that long game of life unless, day in and day out, the laws are thought of and adhered to, and so one is certain that it is being played carefully, with due thought, and with a hope that at the end one will be declared honestly the winner? The rules mav be Hoyle's, or Schenck’s, or whoever you may elect; but be sure that, they are good ones. See how your hand works in with them, and occasion ally, if it is necessary, make a bold play; or. if there is need be secretly, do a good bluff. But never make these out-of-the way plays, unless your hand is so poor that you must make the laws suit it, rather than it suit the laws. LIFE AND CARDS. You may start out in life, and your hrJ may show inherited drunkenness—a bad card, my friend—you may show a quick temper, poverty, generosity and bravery. You can draw two cards: at least, it seems best to do so. Throw aside the drunkenness and the temper and see If you can’t draw self-control and wis dom. The poverty you can use being a man very well; you can bluff with it, or, as the three you held are heart c rds, the two to come may be the same < or, and the hand that was poor, sud U uly becomes good through your careful ma nipulation. I known it is hard to come into the world with a bad band; to know that one’s opponent deals the cards, and that he is ever ready with a taunt and a sneer to laugh at the mistakes one makes, or to be gay and joyous over one’s loss and his gain. Just remember it is a game, this one of life, and LEARN TO PLAY IT QUIETLY and with skill. You seldom succeed in anything if you make much noise about it. And those people who are best up in the rules of the game know that the heedless player, or > the one who doesn’t make the best out of the least, is the one who, if he does not lose entirely, will t ome out of the battle so weakened and so scared and so alto gether miserable, that it will be hardly worth while to count it a victory. I look at my little neighbor as 1 am thinking about this—that manly little boy who has been my friend. He is starting out with good cards—superb ( health, great beauty, affectionate man- , ners and honesty and frankness. What is it ail going to mean to him? Dear 1 little child! All 1 can say is that I hope he will be like the mariner who though he may be tern pest-tossed will have to co i through many storms, still will come into port gallantly at last, oiienng a clean bill. ART WORK AND BABY JACKETS. We are getting up a fair. At present it seems most likely that on sale there will be ice cream and cake, doll babies, baby jackets and art work. lam not very well up in art work, and when somebody shows me a piece of bright cot ton stuff, and with queer, straggling stitches done in yellow silk, and asks me what it means, I hesitate (for I have learned wisdom) and say: "From na ture?” and then I am told that it is the goldenrod copied direct from the flower. It might be anything, but its closest like ness is to the figures on Cleopatra’s Needle. The lady who is going to attend the ice cream has resigned, because she said she felt she couldn’t be just; that she knew that she would give some children more than others, and, of of course, that wouldn’t be real justice. Several irate mothers immediately accepted her resig nation, and I believe she is now going to sell bananas. She can’t very well be un just then, as every child will pick out its own. There is to be a procession of baby carriages headed by a mouth organ—l decline to believe that any human being could be back of it. There are also to be "living pictures;” so far, the only one absolutely arranged is "UNCLE TOM AND LITTLE EVA” and my beautiful boy, with his hair parted in the middle, is to be "Eva,” while Uncle John, a colored man, who at tends the chickens and wears spectacles, is to be “Uncle Tom.” We are much en thused about this, for the electric light is to be thrown upon it, and as the entire picture comes irom our household it will undoubtedly receive the most applause. Then there is to be singing and tea. And with the tea we can have a cup and sau cer to take home. Isn’t it queer how like small children we are all of us on the subject of taking something home? When I used to be braided until my head ached, and then gowned in white and blue sash ribbons, and started for a child’s party, I took no interest in anything until I saw the white paper bags, each tied with a bright rib bon, that every visitor was to carry home with her. None of us get out of this. When we go out shopping, or visiting, or off on a trip, there is always a desire to .bring something home to talk about and to illustrate exactly what the pleasure was. Sometimes I think we don’t always BRING THE RIGHT THINGS HOME. Sometimes we bring the cross word and the ugly temper, and all the vexations that come from being tired instead of the bright things that are so easy to carry. Somebody says: “But I was tired and worn out, and I got all right after awhile,” but alter awhile isn’t the time; it is right now. It would have been possible for you to have gone to your room and rested awhile before you saw anybody. I think men are guiltier of bringing home what they ought not to than are women. They come home in the even ing and the irritation that couldn’t be given to their business partners, the cross words that would be undignified to speak to a clerk, and the ugly temper that it would not have been proper to vent in words before strangers, are all brought home, and wives and children have to en dure them, and sometimes one of the little people tells the truth when he says: “I will be GLAD WHEN PAPA HAS GONE down-town again.” This is an awful home bringing. To make your little child wish that you would go away. I can’t believe that rflen do this wilfully. I am forced to believe that it is one of the evils that is brought by want of thought. But still it does ex ist. and if that is the sort of thing that you would bring home, my man, instead of the cheering words and the interested looks that you should have for your boys and girls. I shouldn’t like to be in your place. You know that there is a home-going for you at the last day, when that day comes, worse than the words that you have said to strangers, blacker than the ill-tern per you have shown to the outside world, more crimi nal than your selfishness, will stand you the unkiind deeds and acts you have brought home to little ones. Bab. BALD HEADED MEN. They Are Not as Strong as the Ones With Thick Hair. From the St. Louis Republic. It is commonly believed that the ab sence of hair outside a skull indicates the presence of intellect within. Perhaps no one would go so far as to say that every bald headed man is clever; but most peo ple certainly think that clever ana learned men are often bald. Evidence of this be lief abounds in art and literature, and in the converse of everyday life. The typical savant is represented with a cranium like a billiard ball, save for a graceful fringe of snowy hair disposed all around at the level of the ears, or thereabouts, w’hile the man of action, the hero, the warrior, is allowed, by waj r of contrast, to keep his hair on as long as he pleases, both in time and space. The ulterior causes of baldness are obscure, but the immediate process is no doubt a degeneration of the hair bulbs, which is due to failure of nutrition, and implies impaired vitality or a loss of vigor. The point needs no argument, though plenty of medical evidence could be brought to support it if necessary. It is universally recognized that an abundance of hair gives a look of youth and vigor, baldness one of age and decay. This single feature will make a man of 70 appear stronger than many a man of 50. Every one will admit that with respect to physical vigor, but not of mental. Yet the two necessarily go together to a great extent and this is where the popular mistake comes in. What is vigor? It does not lie in muscular strength, as many suppose, but in a sound condition of the whole machine and its several parts, and more particularly of the nervous centers in the brain. which move, control and regulate all the rest. Loss of vigor means a corresponding impairment of brain power, and though the higher centers, the seat of intellect, may not suffer obviously at first, they eventually do so. Other things being equal, the sounder a man is all through the better instru ment he makes for the performance of mental no less than physical work: and when bis hair begins to go it is a sign that he is not so sound as he used to be or might be. True, he may have gained in knowledge and experience, and may so far be a better man intellectually than he was before, but he is not so good a man as he would be if he had kept his vigor while acquiring his knowledge. Os two men. equal in mental ability, the one who retains the more vigor pos sesses in a corresponding measure the greater intellectual potency, whether it takes the form of superior energy in the present or a more prolonged period of activity- that is to say, a green old age. This seems to be the correct view on physiological grounds; and surely it is borne out by experience. Kentucky Esprit de Corps. The esprit de corps of Kentuckians has be come proverbial. Among themselves no state compares with their own in general ex cellence in material, spiritual and educa tional advantages. A Chicago man, discus sing this peculiarity, is reported bv the Inter Ocean ot that city to have told of being in Lexington soon after Garfield's death. Tiie.v were talking of the i ungling of the sur geons. one of the loungers in the hotel remon strating against the terrible treatment and Its results. "Well, a Kentucky surgeon would have done no t-etter.” said the Chicagoan. "You are right, sah." replied the other. "Kentucky surgeons know nothing about treating wounds in the back, sah.” THE WEEKLY NEWS (TWO-TIMES-A-WEEK:) MONDAY, SEPT E V BER 3 1894. HUME OF FAST HORSES. Hamlin's Village Farm and Ils Great Racers. All Offspring of Great Sires—Records of Robert J, 2:05 3-4; Fantasy, 2:08 3-4, and Others. Copyright. Buffalo, Sept. I.—The man who owns the most remarkable collection of race horses in tho world is undoubtedly Cicero J. Hamlin, the millionaire grape sugar manufacturer, who lives in Buffalo, and is proprietor of the Village stock farm at East Aurora. That farm is now the home of such great trotting sires as Chimes, Mambrino King, Almont, Jr., and others of almost equal merit. Two of the flyers owned by Mr. Hamlin are con fidently expected to bring the world’s mile record down to two minutes. These two are Robert J., pacer. 2:05%, and Fan tasy, trotter, 2:08%. Another star repre sentative of the farm is Nightingale, who holds the three-mile world’s record Ff Im \) Fantasy, 2:08%. of 6:55%. Fantasy holds the three-year- ; old race record of 2:08%, and in addition, I there are two other world’s records held by Village Farm. One is the double team record of 2:12, made by Belle Hamlin and Globe; the other is the triplicate team record of 2:14, made by Belle Hamlin, Globe and Justina. Mr. Hamlin established the Village Farm as long ago as 1855, and he was 36 years old then. He passed the threescore and ten limit before he reached the bight of his ambition in making his stables the most famous in the country for breeding harness racers and high class roadsters. In 1836, when he was 20. he began his business career by keeping a general store at East Aurora. He went to Buf falo ten years later and made a fortune in the dry goods business. HE LOVES HIB HORSES. Now he is one of the grape sugar kings * Uiuk WxJ iM| Robert J. of the country, and is the employer of 3,000 men. He carries his 75 years as lightly as if they were only half as many, and he loves horse flesh more than a miser loves gold. His beautiful home on Delaware avenue, in this city, contains what is said to be one of the most valua ble libraries of horse literature in the world. The Hamlin brain, however, is apparently stored with more horse lore than all the stud books in the Hamlin library. A friend of his asserts that Mr. Ham lin would sit down and chat with Mephisto himself if he thought the Prince of Dark ness knew anything about horses and breeding. The simple basis of his theory is that the greatest sons of the greatest sires among race horses can be depended on to produce the greatest results. He has been working on this theory for more than a quarter of a century, and is wSjiSm _ - f W w ~ Nightingale (2:10%, Holder of the Three Mile Trotting Record, Owned by C. J. Hamlin. now so confident of the outcome that he has no hesitation in making predictions. HE IS A PROPHET, TOO. He says: “While my prediction of 1891, ‘That there were then on Village Farm youngsters that would score lower marks in contested races than had hereto fore been made by any trotter, living or dead,’ has been verified already, I believe at this time it will bear repeating, and that its intent may be transferred to the present period, for I believe now. as I did then, that there are youngsters at Vil lage Farm who will set opposite their names the lowest marks ever made in contested races.” The consequence of Mr. Hamlin’s wisdom in breeding has been that his Village Farm stock has im proved step by step from generation to generation, and the average of improve ment has been so rapid as to astonish horsemen. THREE NOBLE SIRES. The greatest sires of Village Farm are Mambrino King, Chimes and Almont, Jr. Os these, Chimes stands pre-eminent as the only trotting sire who, at the age of nine years, has had nine 2:20 performers to his credit. Mambrino King, acknowl edged to be the handsomest horse in the world, and whose only rival as a stallion is Chimes, has a greater number of his offspring in the 2:30 list than the other three best sons of Mambrino Patchen combined. Re added seven new members to his family of 2:30 performers last year. He has sired two winners of the Charter Oak SIO,OOO stakes. Almont, Jr., like wise overshadows all other sires of the great Almont family, his 2:30 list numbering twenty-seven performers, eleven of which have records of 2:20 or better. The most notable of them is Belle Hamlin, 2:12%. The Wilkes family is also represented by the most promising member of the line. He is Americus, who made a mile at Lexington. Ky., in 2:15% when 2 years old. His owner re- S a /Mpf I” 2:08%. i cently said of hipi, with pious hope: “I I shall intermingle his blood with that of Chimes, Mambrino King and Almout, Jr., and trust Providerce for the results.” Fantasy, the famous Chimes filly, is 4 years old and has achieved a reputation unequaled by any filly of her years. She is probably the most favored by nature of the Village Farm 4-year-olds, for she has a superb physique and an excellent con stitution. This big daughter of Chimes won her record of 2:08% as a 3-year-old at Nashville, Tenn., last October, break ing the existing records for 3-year-olds at 'either gait, pacing or trotting. She trotted a mile on the Hamilton, Ont., track on July 2 of this year in 2:10, and at Saginaw, Mich., on July 13 she trotted another exhibition mile in 2:09. She was laid up at Detroit and Cleve land and had little to do in Buffalo. She is being saved for the southern tracks. Fantasy is working carefully, and her cleverness in turning a half mile on the Buffalo track the other day in 1:02% in dicates the form she is in. Hal Pointer (2:04%) and Robert J. (2:05%) are the star pacers of the Ham lin stables. The first named is having a rest this season, but his successor is loading the Village Farm with honors. He won his record as a I three-year-old at Lexington, Ky., last fall and has been beating everything but 1 nis own record so far this summer. He made short work of Mascot (2.04) in a match race the first week of the Buffalo meeting, and there is every probability that he will lay the world’s pacing record at Mr. Hamlin’s feet this fall. BORN OF NOBLE BLOOD. Fantasy is a daughter of Chimes, and Nigntingale was sired by Mambrino King. Fantasy’s dam was Homora by Almonarch (2:24%), second dam Sophia by Almont, Jr., sire of Belle Hamlin (2:12%). Nightingale’s dam was Minnequa Maid by Wood’s Hambletonian. Robert J. is by Hartford, dam Geraldine by Jay Gould. Ed Easton, one of the fastest 4-year-olds in the Grand Circuit this sea son, was bred at Village Farms. He is a beautiful bay gliding by Chimes out of a dam by Mambrino King. Sixty-six (2:15%) is another scion of the Chimes nobility. His dam was Jd>sey Lily by Hambletonian Downing, and he is regarded as a coming sensational per former. Beattie Chimes, one of the hand somest fillies that ever wore a trotting plate; Chide, a bay filly by Chimes, dam Maud by Bourbon Wilkes; Charming Chimes, a black colt by Chimes, dam Charmer by Chimes, are all figuring in the grand circuit of 1894. These are only a few of the well-bred youngsters of both sexes which have first seen the light of day at Village Farm. THE GREAT NIGHTINGALE. Nightingale is one of the greatest trot ters living. She is nine years old. and her turf career dates from 1889, when, as a 3-year-old, she won a record of 2:32% — not very low for the daughter of a royal sire—but she was destined for a more brilliant career later on. She lowered her mark to 2:29% when four years old and trotted a mile the following year in 2-25%. In 1891 she won a lonsr list of vic tories. including the-§IO,OOO Charter Oak stakes at Hartford, Conn. That race was won only after a nine heat battle, in which Nightingale proved herself to be one of the gamest race horsesj living be sides gaining the honor of being the first mare io win the stakes. In 1892 she was driven to beat the two mile record of 4:43, held by Fanny With erspoon since 1885, and she succeeded, lowering the mark to 4:33%. At Nash ville, Tenn., last fall she was sent to reduce the three-mile record of 7:21%, held by Huntress for 20 years. • Nightin gale clipped off nearly half a minute, low ering the record to 6:55%. She lost her two-mile record to the Indiana stallion Greenlander last fall, but she still holds the three-mile record. She is a lion hearted beast and fights out a race of many heats with wonderful patience and endurance. A BLUE BLOODED 400. Village Farm has grown steadily until it now includes more than 400 acres, and the index of its stock includes the names of very nearly 400 members of the horse flesh aristocracy. The list of 2:30 per formers bred there or now owned there numbers sixty-four, and the list is now complete. Os this list thirty-two had made records of 2:30 or under before the present racing season began. The dams are bred and the foals are cared for at the farm. When they are old enough to enter the kindergarten the yearlings are transferred to the stables and covered track at the Buffalo Driving park, the site of which Mr. Ham lin bought in 1868, and which he still owns. There they are trained with the utmost care. The muscles of a prize fighter in training for the championship of the world are not developed with more pains and caution. The training depart ment is under the supervision of Ed. F. Geers, “the silent man,” as he is known all over the country. John Splann, the famous driver, says of Geers and his employer: “I would rather work against any other combination of horsemen in the world, for what one does not know about every race horse and every driver in the country, the other does.” Splann believes that both Robert J and Fantasy will travel very close to the 2:00 mark before they return to Buffalo, and he appears to have equal faith with Mr. Hamlin in the filly’s abil ity ultimately to reach that coveted fig ure with its transcendant honors. A floridaTexperiment. Raising Rice and Sugarcane in the Land of Flowers. From the Charleston News and Courier. Messss. J. E. Heyl and R. H. Harleston arrived in Charleston yesterday from Florida, where they have been looking after the plantations of the Disston Land Company, in which they are considerably interested, about six miles from Kis simmee, in the center of the peninsula, and in the heretofore considered waste lands. This is the first year that rice has actually been given a fair trial, and these gentlemen are enthusiastic over the re sult. “While some of our rice has not had a drop of water and some of our pumping stations failed on account of the drought which has prevailed in Florida,” said Mr. Harleston. “the result shows conclusively that the experiment is a success, and that Florida rice will be a commodity in the markets of the world at no distant day. The crop is tully two weeks earlier than Carolina rice, and our harvest is nearly over now. We have shipped two carloads of rough rice to the West Point mills here, and expect this will be pounded in a few days. In fact, it was partly to see about the milling that I came to Charleston. We had this season about three hundred acres in rice, and the yield, as so far estimated, is about forty-eight bushels to the acre. By next season we will have the land thoroughly ditched, and we expect a larger and bet ter crop.” Mr. Heyl, who is bound for Philadel phia, spoke more particularly of the sugar cane. “Raising sugar cane is not a new industry in Florida,” he said, in answer to an interrogation. “The Floridians raised cane and manufactured sugar be fore the war, it seems, and some pic tures taken by tourists and others show the ruins of some large sugar making plants. The cane has been raised, how ever, in small fields and at considerably remote points, and the industry had pretty much died out when we began op erations. We have this year four or five hundred acres of splendid cane. Some of it is nine feet high, and the season is not near over. Last year we harvested a good big crop, but this December we will start on a much larger one. “Cane is cultivated much the same as corn, consequently the two or three hun dred colored ueople sene us by Miss Clara Barton from the Carolina sea islands last fall made very good cane hands, while knowing nothing of cane. It grows easily and does not require much attention, but when the harvesting begins then every body ‘hustles.’ The cane cutin the morn ing must be sugar in twenty-four hours, or the juice is likely to ferment. Some days last season we had cut and hauled to the mill 350 tons, a pretty bin stack of cane, I assure you. The crop last year was about 12,000 tons of cane, but that does not include the seed cane. You know the canes are planted in rows and sprout from the eyes ar each joint. “We have one of the largest and finest sugar plants in the south, and on sugar aljo we expect soon to be well known in the world’s markets.” SOHRIVER’S GOOD CATOH. He Holds a Ball Dropped From the Washington Monument. From the Philadelphia Record. Washington, Aug. 25.—William Schri ver, one of the catchers of the Chicago basebail club, smashed to smithereens yesterday a tradition of long standing that no baseballist could catch a regula tion ball tossed to him from one of the windows in the top of the Washington monument, 500 feet above the ground. It has been held that no man could hold fast to a ball dropped 500 feet in sheer space. First, because the height was too great for a man to see the ball, and, secondly, because the impetus it would receive would break every finger in the outstretched hand of the mortal who thus tempted fate. Capt. Anson has always maintained the contrary, and vowed that the feat could be done. It was all in vain that he had pointed out to him how fast a falling body went in the first second it journeyed downward, and how much faster its speed was for every succeeding second. No trial was made until yesterday. Schiiver was consulted and expressed his willingness to undertake the task. A party consisting of Messrs. Griffith, Par rott, Decker, Stratton and Hutchinson of the Chicagos; Frank Bennett, H. P Bur ney and Col. Debaun, accompanied Schriver to the monument. The weight of opinion was against Schriver s ability to succeed, and there was nobody in the absence of Anson to brace him up, so no wonder the poor fellow’s heart was faint. After Griffith and Hutchinson had got to the top and the former had tossed the ball from a north window, Schriver’s nerve forsook him, and he made no effort to catch it. But instead of boring a hole ten feet deep in mother earth, the leather bounded up about as high as it would from an average hard strike. This encourged Schriver. and he resolved that the catch was no great shakes after all. The sig nal was given, and again the ball was pitched, Schriver catching it fair and square amid the applause of the specta tors. By this time the monument cop got onto tbe game and was highly indignant that such an affair had occurred. He talked of arrest, but was finally talked into a more amiable temper, and the party came up town joyously with Billy Schriver a hero. A COLUMBUSJCHAPEL? “A Story in Stone” in a New Smyrna (Fla.) Potato Field. The Old Ruin Has Been Known as the Remains of a Sugar Mill, but There Are Evidences That It Was Once an Ecclesiastical Building. William Frederick Dix, in tne Churchman. Surrounded by the thick, luxuriant palmetto “hammock” of Northeastern Florida, in the center of a potato-field, is a dismantled mass of ruins, over which grow trailing vines and southern mosses that deck the crumbling walls with pic turesque embellish'ment and bestow upon them the element of romance. Near the central square chimney a large tree is growing, which shows their an tiquity, and surrounding it are rem nants of large halls. Tn a rugged wall of well-hewn blocks of brown stone, forming the side of one enclosure, is a series of three large, Roman-arched windows; in the end wall are two more. Opposite this are the remains of a stately doorway, leading to a hall still lai ger. The contour of these walls shows that over the first hall was a pointed gable roof, and one aged remainder in the form of a cypress beam betokens the material used. The indentations at the top of the wail of the other inclosure show that the roof was nearly flat. Behind this a series of stone piers or low foundations seems to tell us that long ago something like an arcade or cloister once stood here. Beyond these relics low foundation walls extend in all directions into the potato field, but so broken are they that they do not give more than a suggestion of what originally was reared upon them. At the edge of the field, on the border of the palmetto forest, a long, high stone wall of well squared and carved stones attests at once the former size of these buildings and the thrift and iconoclasm of some pioneer farmer, whose bones now lie probably somewhere under the potatoes, and whose cabin chimney, of the same brown stone as the ruins, stands not far away. These ruins, until recently called “the old sugar-mill,” are situated two miles back of the little town of New Smyrna,in Volusia county, Florida, just where the waters oflthe Halifax river meet the Mos quito Lagoon. Hither, in the early days of Florida settlement came one Turnbull, with a colony of peasants recruited from the island of Minorca in the Mediterran ean ; and even now traditions of his cruelty to these people are rife in the vicinity. He oppressed them till they became almost slaves, and a long canal dug for miles through solid rock, for the purpose of floating loads of materials in from the vessels of the lagoon, is but one of many signs of the hard labor wrung from these deluded Minorcans. One of the industries carried on by Turnbull was the making of sugar; and in recent times the stone ruins in the hammock near by, as remains of sugarmaking ma chinery are found among them, have always been supposed to be the re mains of what was originally a sugar mill, built by the Minorcans under him. His power finally collapsed; his victims were scattered throughout the state, so that even now one frequently meets a na tive with the black hair and olive skin of an alien race; and thick pads of green moss and cool fefns overhang the rock walls of the silent and deserted water-way. During the winter of 1898-94, a new in terest has settled upon the supposed sugarmill, and some inquiring mindshave wondered how it was that so dignified a structure, with Roman arches and other unmistakable signs of ecclesiastical archi tecture, could have been needed in a sugarmill. Detailed examination showed that around the iron machin ery used in the mill were many additions to the stone and plaster, of a much newer appearance than that of the original walls. Partitions had been added, arched windows filled in with fnodern brick and inferior plaster, and other signs were discovered which proved that the original walls were centuries older than these newer additions; but all had been so overgrown with vines that this discrepancy in the sugar mill theory was easy to be overlooked. When I visited the ruins in March last, it appeared to me, upon examination, that the first of the two halls described might have been a chapel, with gable roof, and with three arched windows on each side, two at one end, and an entrance door at the other, leading in from the adjoining hall, which was perhaps a refectory. Along the side was an arcade which formed a cloister; and the razed walls all about it—what were they? And why should so small a chapel have so many windows? Why should its only entrance come from another inclosure, and why was it surrounded by signs of encompassing walls? These questions seem to answer themselves, if we can find any traces of very early ex plorers who might have established a fort and garrison here, which included a chapel and a monastery with cloisters and refectory. This would explain the large windows, which would have been darkened by outer buildings, the adjoin ing hall and the remains of an arcade or outer gallery. > One of the traditions of Florida, which spread through Europe after the first voyage of Columbus in 1492, was that somewhere in its flowery wilderness bub bled a wonderful spring, that would be stow upon anyone who quaffed its waters the miraculous gift of eternal youth. Ponce de Leon, we are told, had- heard of it, and in 1512 he made an exploration of the state, in futile search of it. A study of his movements seems to show that his was no mere idle wandering, but the exe cution of a carefully arranged plan. In deed, it would seem that he not only had word of the fountain’s existence, out of its location. Whence came this informa tion? Twenty miles exactly west of New Smyrna is located the “Blue Spring,” a lovely pool, overhung with dripping rock and with cold and wondefully refreshing waters. It is held by many that the native Indians of Florida, who were often poetical in their appellations, re garded this as the spring of eternal youth, and this was what Ponce de Leon sought. Had he been given an accurate account of its location, in latitude and longitude, he could not have gone straighter—with one exception. He made a mistake of one degree in his calcula tions, and landed a little north of New Smyrna instead of landing at the spot where New Smyrna now stands. Thus he never found the spring; which gradu ally lessened in fame and was partially forgotten. Columbus, we remember, made a second voyage of discovery in 1496, and of this we have almost no record, save that he landed in Central America, and two of his ships sailed northward. The theory has been advanced, by those who have looked into this question, that these unac counted-for portions of his expedition penetrated into, and were the real dis coverers of, Florida; and that they made a settlement at New Smyrna, and erected these venerable walls as a refuge from the savages and as a monastery for the monks who were undoubtedly with them. If this be true, and if. afterward, they were perhaps driven back, leaving behind them their story in stone, which has been so long mute, the knowledge that Ponce de Leon had is no longer a mystery. Strange as all this may seem, it is not impossible that it may be true; and the hypothesis of a chapel or monastery has been strengthened by the discovery, last winter, of two large candlesticks, of un mistakable ecclesiastical pattern, which were excavated at thb base of one of the walls. It is expected that further search will be made, and the explorers are san guine that they will be able to prove be yond question that this vine-clad ruin in the Florida hammock is a veritable Co lumbus chapel, and the oldest Christian structure of any kind in America. Depew and McAllister in London—A Contrast. Ward McAllister’s London notes are in tensely amusing to people “in the know,” says the New York Press. He professes to be hobnobbing with Lord Blank and Lady Dash, and relates with gusto what his lord ship observed and how her ladyship rallied. The fact is that Mr. McAllister would be only too happy to print names—if he were in posi tion to print them. Mr. Depew has had a busy time of it. and has been entertained by the prime minister, and acout everybody of importance in London has been asked to meet him. McAllister has been ignored. Only a year or so ago I recall that Mr. Mc- Allister had the impudence to write patroniz ingly of the social position of Dr. Depew. As the doctor then put it, laughingly: “If Mac says I’m not in it, I sunpose I’m not.” Os course, Depew wont think of it. but Mc- Allister’s essentially vulgar mind will be greviously torn by the contemptuous indif ference with which London society has re c eived him. lam certain McAllister is no better placed in London to-day than when he was turned out of the Windsor kitchen by the queen’s butler. MEDICAL THEY DON'T ACREE. I i feyfTFSw l l I B IN W ik Pond’s Extract Jersey Mosquito —» small size/ Have ’em small size. Have ’em bigger. For much bigger. INSTANT RELIEF from Sting of MOSQUITO ’ from BITES Heat of SUNBURN ooolino - REFRESHING PILES. (Seedirections HEALING with each bottle.) For all Extkrnal Wounds and Inflamed Surfaces a Wonderful Healer. . . •» . Bathe the Aching Head or the Swollen Feet with POND’S EXTRACT. 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