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THE MONROE
VOL XXXIX.
'
/i t BLR SOUND.
... . .
1 ni,n ' 1 ^ n ‘ ’ n *
. .r> a im n o ,< ,nu >r o , ^ .m > rar
,
a n n inpi} an ' '■ c >r. J n n ,! , W ) . >,r, 1
i,
M«y not (ho lofty mountains an I th« hills
Jj voUc of q > 1. His song, the gentle
flower
tli* chant, the star- procession, aid, alas!
• L* onlysigh, tlc sc human h trtsof ouraV
Ellen Knight Bralforl, in the Century.
AN' ADVENTURE IN ITALY.
IT WENT to Siena, and
,
tiring an an uinn
of sublime color I
m co ^“ t o8w cx '
. one^through
curst
tbewood*»ndwood
* harnll ‘ tf, > 8orae
, lasting several days.
It was on the*after
_ V of of these
noon one
go I<lcn tl ,at 1
, t , with the adventure , . which l I am
about to narrate. I had been trudging
-oong since sunrise when shortly after
i m, l icard the muttering of distant
.under. I hurried along for a
< r of an hour, when I felt the first
m u . \ drop of the impending storm,
No hut wan in sight. I turned aside
from the usual track into the wood,
thinking to find shelter among the
thick autumnal leaves.
»<• oro b>ng tho rain came down in
f did masses through tho denuded
-oughH, while before my eyes tho
lighting blazed and the woods re
souride. with tlie thunder’s cannon
a< <•. knew that it would be folly to
remain blindly in one place, so I hurried
on through tho roaring forest
ween the lightning flashes it was
ns flack as night. In less than half
on »<>ur the storm had abated. I
raised my head it had boon bowed in
ormng my "ay against the wind and
ic rain—and then I found myself
facing an old castle, built among the
rocks of « gloomy defile at tho bor
< ei H o the forest.
l ran across this intervening space,
rue quickly loiuid myself in the court
yard or the castle, searching for tho
<n ranee. I bad not much trouble in
finding it. Tho double walnut doors
wore wide apart. Beside them there
was a handle, which I pulled.
i 1.0 t ir-ott sound of a bell came to my
< uit to mine alone, it would seem,
for no janitor appeared, even after I
bad pulled tho handle a second time.
g anood through tho open doors
an. suiv at t io further end of tho hall
f ll,n ul « m0 «ldering on the
u> 1 Do night was too tempting
<> , >e ienisled by bedraggled fellow
a
mi u ns 1 was at that moment. I boldly
entered the hall and walked to the fire.
er the lapse of a few minutes I even
ventured to stir the smouldering logs
into flame. While doing so I I was
awkward enough to dislodge one of
10 no irons, and it tell with a crash
upon the tiled hearth.
I waited breathless for the sound of
< e upon the passage irom the apart
incuts on each side of the hall; but
hough the noise must, 1 know, have
>ccn hoard all over the castle, no
human being appeared. Looking
around I noticed several articles of
splendid furniture scattered about the
mosaic on the pavement. On one of
t io seats lay a violin and its bow, and
not far ofl there was a guitar.
n spite m the weird features of the
place, 1 had sufficient courage to seat
myself in front of the now blazing fire
and rny wet garments were soon send
ing off clouds of steam. I suppose it
. a!
a as t<’genet sense of comfort that
me to , rc ’l > s h’ep.
How long T l slept , I cannot tell, but I
viiow lud had a consciousness of
n ing surrounded by a number of
augnng people
lieu opened my eyes, however,
and started from my seat, there was
u-i' 1 so ar J h ? ure * u * lu>
hat figure , it that t in
a was saw
the half gloom that tho flickering
flame from the logs, now well nigh
mint out. fitfully illuminated!
A tall, absolutely fleshless creature
tn man s di ess stood in the centre of
the mosaic, transfixing me with small.
piercing eyes that were as black as
coals only when they were not blazing
ted like the same coals when they
have been in tho centre of a firo for
liuil an hour. His hair fell in heavy,
black locks from liis forehead right
over his shoulders, adding to the
strangeness of his appearance. But
what was the strangest about him was
his hands. Such long, lean fingers I
had never seen on any human being.
I hey suggested the talons of a strange
bird of prey ; and the long, hooked
11080 ’ figure did much to in
crease the impression produced by the
•ught of such bauds*.
\ our Excellency will pardon the
intrusion of a belated stranger, said
1. when l found words. “I am au
Englishman, but 1 have lived iu Italy
for some years. I w as passing through
the woods to the village at the head of
the 'allev when l was unfortunately
caught iu the storm. Reaching the
castle of your Excellency, 1 took the
liberty of pulling the bell twice; but.
finding no response, I ventured, ns
mine was a pitiable case, to enter the
hall to dry my garments. The pleas
ant warmth, doubtless, caused me to
fall asleep. If a servant will put me
on the track to the nearest inn I shall
ever thank your Excellency.”
I spoke in the Italian of Tuscany,
but no sign did the mau give to let me
know that he understood me. He re
maiued in the same position which he
had occupied the first moment I had
seen him.
“It is growing late, sir.' I remarked
uneasily-he stood between me aud
the doors. “May 1 take the liberty of
inquiring to whom l am indebted for
the timely shelter from tlu* inclement
•Ltm
Swme moments elapsed before he
spoke.
FORSYTH, MONROE COUNTY. GA,TUESDAY MORNING. JULY 3, 1891.
I “I am the Power,” said ho, also in
Tuscan Italian. “I am the power
; ft ** er whicli all men strive—the power
j to stir ^ d- the I Ho souls with of all what men I in please the
i wor men
, T am master of tho world. ’
j mad. J began Still, to he fear did that the man was
not speak like a
j lunatic. . I here was in his tone noth
I* 11 # the confidential whisper in
| which a madman expresses his wildest
hallncinatians to any one w’ho takes
him seriously.
‘‘I fail, sir, to understand fully
what is the exact title claimed by your
I Excellency, suid I.
* have had many titles given
i me
. I first appeared
since in the world,’
heroplied. “Hut I prefer being known
as the 8oul-mover. Men who were
believed to bo without souls have
gone forth from my presence bearing
undoubted testimony to my power as
| a Soul-mover.”
I stared at him. His eyes shone
s red as tho vent holes of*u furnace.
Then lie smiled in a way that made
rne shudder. I had ceased to think of
him as madman. His appearance as
well as his words sent my thoughts
j in quite another direction.
“Whatever you may be, or what
over titles you may bear,” I managed
to stammer. “I owe you thanks for a
! timely shelter—for—for—the fire.”
“Tho lirc-tho fire !” he cried and
then ho burst into the most awful
laugh j ba q ever Loaril< «. Thc
“I was wet to the skin when I
, j entered,” I said.
“And you thank me for the fire—
for my lire. Good! You are more
polite than many poople who have
mado tho acquaintance of the fire of
which I am guardian. I am the mas
ter of tho fire—the everlasting fire—
do you understand?”
I fancied that I uudertsood but too
well. If my understanding had shown
itself to be at all sluggish it would
have received a jog forward by the
smile that distorted his livid features
as he spoke.
“Have you ever hoard of the fire
of w hat men call tho Bottomless Pit?”
fi c inquired iu a whisper, taking a
stop toward me and pointing with one
long, lean, talon-like hand to the
mosaic of the pavement,
“I fancy I may have heard of it,” I
muttered, “What of that?”
“That is the fire which I kindle—
that is the everlasting firo of which I
have been made custodian. l)o you
believe me?”
“If you are tho custodian of the
fire,” said I, gaining courage—for
after a time 1 suppose one comes to
regard the arch-fiend himself as a poor
sort, of thing—“you should not be
believed. But evenjf you are what
you? appearance and your words—
auoVe all your. % smile—suggest you to
be, your power is limited. You have
no powor over me. lama Christian
man.”
“No power over you!” he cried.
“There is no living man over whom I
have not power. I play with your
soul as a child plays with his ball. I
mean to play with your soul before
we part, my good friend.”
“I defy you !” I cried. I felt my
English blood hot iu every vein. An
Englishman in the early years of the
century-after the battle of Trafalgar
—an Englishman of the England of
Nelson, not the degenerate land of to
day, was ready to defy the arch-fiend
himself, nay, worse, Bonaparte. “I
defy you,” 1 continued. “You have
uo power over me.”
“Brave words!” said he, with an
other awful laugh, “But the man
does not exist over whom my everlast
ing fire—that fire which men call
genius—has not power. For God’s
sake!—”
lie spraug upon mo without a word
of warning and pinioned my arms,
but only for a second. I had uueon
sciously been retreating from where I
had originally stood, and, still keep
ing my eyes fixed upon that figure. I
was in the act of stumbling over the
bench on which tho violin lay by the
side of the guitar.
His sudden exclamation, quickly
followed by his action, had prevented
me from crushing the instruments,
He was almost breathless ashe pointed
to them, the moment he had released
my arms. I must confess that I also
\\as breathless.
“Once more I am indebted to you,”
I said. “Iwould uot for worlds have
injured the fiddle, at least. I have as
much affection for the humblest of the
fiddle family as if it were a child.”
“Only so much?” said he. “Ah,
you are not an enthusiast.”
“I once fancied that I was,” I re
plied, picking up theiustrument. The
truth was that I was ready to seize
the opportunity of keeping our con
versation away from the gruesome
channel in which it had previously
flowed.
‘‘Yon handle the instrument as if
you knew something about it,” said
he, encouragingly. “Perhaps—would
it be too great a favor to beg—?”
He handed me the bow very grace
fully.
“You wish to hear me play ? I
shall have the greatest of pleasure in
doing my best,” said I, beginning to
tune the violin. I felt that we were
getting along much better than I had
reasoned to believe we should from the
early part of our conversation.
“I shall listen to you with—let us
say, interest,” said he; and he seated
himself on the bench near the smoul
deriug embers. The hall was by this
time very dim, onlv now and ajain a
little flame broke forth on the hearth,
and sent a shivering flicker of ruddy
light along the walls.
I finished the tuning of the strings
and began to play my nocturne. The
instrument was by far the best that
I had ever had in my hand, and I as
tonished even myself by the brilliancy
of my execution. I never played so
well previous to that evening, and 1
have never played so well since,
When the last delicate tones had
I. . ‘9‘ . } 3‘ (a ’3 “at
q n
\ g"j;“ ‘ "M%\‘fi ‘9‘.
f/ ’ : ’ ?
., w,“ .3“ ., v ‘
‘ v
. I ' ‘ .‘
‘ ' ‘———
‘.A [cw
-
died away I glanced with pardonable
pride toward mv sole auditor.
He was lying on the bench con
valsed with laughter.
I felt at that moment as though I
could have killed the wretch. Was it
to tempt this murderous impulse that
he had encouraged me to play.
“A thousand pardons and a thou
sand thanks! ’he cried, starting up.
j “I assured you that I should be in
terested, but I had no idea that I
should be amused. Rarely, I give
you my word, have I been so di
verted.”
“It was not meant to bo diverting,
sir, said I. “I have played you a
nocturne of mv own composition,” I
added promptly.
“Body of Baechus!” he cried, “why
did you not sav you meant to be
solemn? For want of so simple an
explanation I have been misled. I
believed that it was your intention to
be humorous. But I have been di
vertod. It is delightful to hear the
first attempts of an infant to express
its littlo heart in words to reach
heart of men.”
I “Perhaps,” I said icily—for I had,
life. repeat, never played so well in mv
“Perhaps you will give me an
example of the complete expression
of the heart of man, as I have given
you one of the lispiugs of an iufant.”
I handed him the violin with a sa
tirical inclination of the body. He
laughed again, but suddenly checked
himself.
“I entreat your pardon,” he said.
“Let mo beg of you to punish my
rudeness by laughing also.”
I smiled as I said, “Oh, uo, no,”
but I made up my mind that if he was
anxious for me to smile he should be
gratified to tho fullest extent before
he had finished his performance.
“Yes,” he murmured, holding the
bow within an inch of the first string
of tho violin that was against his
shoulder. “Yes, I think I know what
your lispings meant to express. Is it
this?”
The smile upon my face passed
away before the first long note that
he had sounded had ceased to vibrate,
He had not raised the bow from the
string; but that solitary note was
worth more as an interpretation of
the impassionate cry for rest—the
rest brought by night—which I meant
to embody in my nocturne than the
whole composition. While that note
sounded I heard the cry of the whole
creation that traveleth waiting for the
Rest iu the consummation of God’s
premises.
Again he moved the bow and the
wail went on. In a moment the dim
hall was crowned with figures. I sat
watching them in amazement. They
Lovely were laughing together in groups.
girls in ravishing dishevelmenfc
flung roses to the roof of the hall and
the blooms breaking there sent a
shower of rosy perfumed petals quiver¬
ing and dancing like butterflies down¬
ward. Children ran to catch the fall¬
ing flakes and clapped their hands.
Men, old and joung, sang in vary¬
ing harmonies, and at intervals of
singing quaffed sparkling wine from
cups of glass. Suddenly, as all were
in the act of drinking, the goblets fell
with a crash upon the pavement, and
the red wine flowed like blood over the
mosiac. When the crash of the glasses
had sounded through the hall there
was a moment of deathly silence, and
then, far away, I could hear once more
the distant wailing of a great multi¬
tude—it came closer and closer until
men, women and children in the hall
joined in that chorus of ineffable
sadness—that cry of the world for the
Rest which has been promised. They
lay on the pavement before my eyes,
wailing, wailing, wailing,
Silence followed,
The hall grew dark in a moment; I
conld not see anything even if my
eyes had been dry. They were not
dry. That sad wail had moved me as
I had never before been moved, The
darkness was st fling, I felt over
whelmed by it, but I could not stir,
I remained bound to my seat bv a
sjjell that I could not break. But just
as I felt myself struggling for breath
a long ray of moonlight slipped aslant
the hall and the atmosphere became
less dense. In a few minutes the hall
was filled with moonlight, and I saw
that just where the pale light streamed
there w'as growing a tree that I had
not noticed before,
It was a tree of golden fruit that
gleamed in the moon’s rays. At a lit
tie distance a fountain began to flash,
and its sprrkling drops fell musically
iuto the basin beneath the fantastic
jets. All at once a nightingale burst
into song among the branches of the
tree. I listened rapt, drinking in the
song that seemed to me the
embodiment of tranquility—of a
yearning satisfied. And as I listened
there 1 breathed the delicate, dewy
odors which seemed to come from the
glossy leaves that hid the nightingale
from sight.
I do not know how long I listened
—how I tasted of the delight of that
sensation of repose. I know that I
was on my feet, straining to catch the
last exquisite notes that seemed to
dwindle into the moonlight, and to
become absorbed in. the silver rays,
when I heard a voice that said:
“You have not laughed at my play
ing. You are very good. I did not
think that you would laugh. I told
you that I meant to play with your
soul as a child play6 with a ball. I
kept my promise,
I looked in the direction whence the
voice came, but the hall was almost in
complete darkness. I could but dimly ! i
see a part of the outline of that tall
figure, so fleshless that it seemed noth
ing more than a skeleton holding a
violin—one of the grim figures of the
spectres with the riddle iu the Dance
of Death.
I went slowly backward uutil I j
reached the door. Then I turned and
ran. I was among the trees in the
wood before I heard the mocking
laughter that rang through the soft air
of the earlv night.
I fled through the wood, ami in half
an hour I got upon the track leading
up the valley,
It was nearly midnight before I
reached the inn where I was expected.
In the spacious kitchen I sank down
on a chair utterly exhausted,
‘‘What, sir, are you ill?’’ cried a
voice that I knew, the voice of an olive
grower of Siena with whom 1 had be
come acquainted some months before.
“No,” said I. “I am not ill, only
tired, and—well, I shall never laugh
again when I see a peasant eross him
self passing certain woods which he
believes to be haunted.”
“In the name of heaven where have
you been, sir ?” whispered tho man.
“I come upon a castle standing
among the rocks some distance to the
right of the valley,” I replied: “Do
you know of such a castle, my friend?”
“Certainly; it is most surely the
castle of the Gontessa, ” he replied.
“It is now iu charge of the Fiend
himself,” said I. “He came upon me,
and with his playing upon a fiddle that
lay in the hall he took possession ol
my soul. My God ! I scarcely feel
free even now. ”
The olive merchant looked at me in
a puzzling way for a few moments,
then he burst iuto a laugh.
“I have heard that playing myself,”
he cried, “and it has taken hold upon
my soul also; it does upon every soul
that hears it. Sir, the Coutessa lias
had a guest at her castle for the past
year; his name is Signor Paganini.”
The man lay back and roared with
laughter, but it was some time before
I could laugh, before I could realize
that the greatest artist who had ever
lived in the world had been playing
for my benefit a part which he loved
to assume. —To-Day.
The Clock Winding Snake
“In Persia there is a kind of snai;*
which is known to the natives as the
clock winding snake,” said Gerald M.
Stephens at the Laclede last night.
“It derives its name from a peculiar
buzzing noise which it makes that re
semblee the winding of a clock. These
snakes are perfectly harmless and fre
quently glide in and out of tho houses,
no attention being paid to them by
the natives. During a visit there sev
eral years ago, I was attracted one
morning by an unusual twittering of
birds, and on looking up saw about
twenty sparrows on the top of a wall,
all jumping about in an excited man
ner.
“At first I w r as at a loss to under¬
stand the cause of such a commotion,
but presently I heard tie peculiar
buzzing of the clock winding snake,
and in a minute percidvr “/ reptile
crawling ’’along ikd-'wrTdT', rha&ulg di¬
rectly for the birds, which appeared
to be fascinated and made no attempt
to fly awmy. The snake glided in
anon g the birds, and choosing one to
his liking, deliberately seized it in his
mouth and swallowed it. I picked up
a stick, and after Killing the snake
cut him open aud extracted the spar
row. After about ten minutes’ ex
posure to the sun the bird got up, and
in a few minutes more flew away, ap¬
parently unhurt.”—St. Louis Globe
Democrat.
Mourned Like a Human Being.
There is something pathetic about
the account of the death of the female
chimpanzee which Professor Garner
brought from Southwest Africa. The
names given by the professor to his
friends were Aaron and Elishaba, and,
much to his regret, Elishaba has fallen
a victim to the severe English weather.
She really died in the arms of pool
Aaron, the male, who had been most
assiduous in his attentions to his con
sort during the whole of her illness.
Professor Garner was present during
the last moments of the chimpanzee,
and when he put his hands to her heart
to see if it had ceased to beat Aaron
put his hand there too, looking up in
the professor’s eyes as if inquiring if
that was all they could do for her.
Aaron would not suffer his departed
love to to be taken from him, and
clung to her body with such tenacity
that the professor was compelled to
lay it down on its bed of straw, when
the distressed husband released his
hold. When Professor Garner visited
his protege next day poor Aaron would
not be consoled until he had his hand
in that of the professor, and by sound
and signs was telling him of his dis¬
tress.
It Mill Drain Mexico.
A great seven mile tunnel, which is
the principal part of the elaborate sys
tem of drainage for the valley and the
City of Mexico, and has been for some
time under construction, was formally
completed last week by President
Diaz, armed with a silver pickax.
Members of the Cabinet and a number
of prominent people were present at
the ceremony, which was rounded out
with an open air lunch and some
speeches. The tunnel is part of a
great canal, which will serve as a
sewer, and will carry off the rain
"water, which sometimes threatens to
drown out the city. The cost of the
work, when finished, will not fall
short of 310,000,000.—New Orleans
Picayune,
A Tkoughtlul Little Hero.
Douglas Eaton, the eight-year-old
son of a New York minister, while
playingin the street before his father’s
house, ran before a heavily loaded
truck, and before the driver could pre
vent, the child was knocked down,and
one of the wheels passed over his
crushing him terribly. The child was
quickly picked up and conveyed into
the house, while a surgeon was sum
rnoned, but as they were carrving him
into the door, with rare forgetfulness
of self, be exclaimed: “It was all my
own fault. He tried to stop, but he
wouldn't.”—New Orleans Picayune,
/
ADVERTISER.
A FORMIDABLE ’WEAPON *
the torpedo which sunk the
WARSHIP AQUIDABAN.
The Invention of a LTD ted States
Naval Officer—Method of Working
the Deadly Machine.
R ECEXTLY come, well-known in the from battleship sinking Brazil Aquid- of has the
aban, an event that promises
to shed more light upon the powers of
the torpedo than all the experiments
of the last two decades. The first news
concerning tho downfall of tho Aquid
aban was to the effect that the vessel
was sunk by an auto-mobile torpedo,
but the naval department has recently
been led to the suspicion that it was
not an anto-mobile, but a dirigible tor
pedo that did the effective work. That
is to say, a torpedo that is operated
and controlled from a base, instead of
one which when launched relies upon
its own mechanism for its subsequent
action.
The affair accumulates special inter¬
est, not only to Americans but to Bos
tonians, for the only dirigible torpedo
in the possession of the Government
forces of Brazil was tho invention of
an officer now resident in Boston. The
officer in question is Lieutenant N. J.
L. T. Halpin, U. S. N.
-A few words regarding this remark
able weapon. Not the least interest
ing thing concerning it is the fact that
it is a torpedo but little known. It is
the result of many years of study and
experiment by its inventor, and is bet
ter known outside of this country than
it is here. It has been used by at least
tbr6e South American nations,although
the Brazilians, as far as known, are
the only ones who have subjected it to
the conditions of actual war.
Unlike other torpedoes, the Halpine
weapon is not destroyed after it is ex
P Ioded audits mission is accomplished,
ex plosive charge is separate, and
H is emitted by automatic means,
t° r podo itself, which is operated
electricity, withdraws and returns
*° * ke operator. Herein is a merit
GuH at once appeals to the economist,
^ ke ex l J losive charge, which is in the
^ orm °* a cartridge, costs but $9, and
f° r podo itself being used over and
over again, this is the only expense at
tending its use. Other forms of diri
gible torpedo cost anywhere from $10,
000 to $20,000 a shot, as they are thorn
selves destroyed thereby,
The following is a brief description,
not to ° technical, of the Halpine tor¬
pedo, which is in reality a hybrid, be¬
tween a torpedo proper and a torpedo
boat. In fact, it may be regarded in
the latter light, as it is but the vessel
carrying and discharging the deadly
fissile.
It is cigar-shaped, seventeen feet in
length and two feet in diameter. It
contains a storage battery of thirty
three cells, weighing 300 pounds, and
from these is obtained the power which
• by means of a two horse-power motor,
drives the screw propeller, which is
brass, one foot in diameter, and is
protected by a circular metallic guard.
A balance rudder is also attached by
which the torpedo is steered. In the
forward end, pointed obliquely down¬
ward, is the chamber for the charge,
which is- 125 pounds of any high ex¬
plosive, gelatine, dynamite or gun
cotton. The charges furnished the
weapon carried by the Nictheroy were
wet gun cotton.
The caitridge is also cigar-shaped,
four feet long and ten inches in diam¬
eter, and is inserted by the mere re¬
moval of a hand-hole plate on the top
of the torpedo.
At the station occupied by the op¬
erator there is a battery of 160 dry
cells, and communication is had with
the torpedo after it is launched by
means of an extremely fine and care
fully insulated wire, which is rolled
on a reel inside the torpedo as the lat¬
ter advances. All the operator has to
do is to watch the torpedo travel
through the water, its progress being
observed by means of two tiny masts
upon it, and by means of a switch¬
board he can cause it to advance or
retreat, or pursue any path he wishes.
He can also discharge the cartridge,
but there is likewise an automatic
method of doing this upon impact with
the vessel attacked.
The operation of the torpedo pre¬
sents Projecting some very interesting features.
from the front of the tor¬
pedo is a spar, with an arrow-head,
and automatically released arms.
When this comes iu contact with any
resisting object, the cartridge is re¬
leased and advances toward the object,
By means of an ingenious system of
springs and clutches, the cartridge
upon being released, dives down and
then ascends, describing a curved
path, concave upward. Thus the tor
pedo nets with which most of the bat
tleships are provided, would not avail,
as the spar would meet the net while
the cartridge would dive down beneath
it and then proceed direct to the ves
sel’s hull.
The same act of impact that dis
charges the cartridge also reverses the
motor in the torpedo, which rapidly
recedes and returns to its base, to be
again charged, if needed, and again
sent out on its mission of destruction,
The Halpin torpodo has some mer
its not possessed by any other kind,
In the first place, it is the only one
that can be used successfully against a
ves-el protected by nets. It is not
injured or destroyed in operating; it
can be operated from a moving base,
such as a boat, as the operator’s plant
is so simple and light; its motive
power does not suffer by being stored
or delayed, and it is not of such a
nature as to be in itself a source of
danger to those handling it; it can be
loaded with the facility of a breech
loading rifle; should it be captured,
the operator can make it destroy itself
by exploding the charge within it.
The American officers ol theNiethe
roy, who returned to this countrv
* bon * » week ago, speak in high terms
of this torpedo, and they incline to
the belief that its many advantages
offset its lack of simplicity. However
complex it may be, experiments held
with it indicate that it is quite as
reliable as any other kind of dirigible
torpedo. The one on the Nictheroy,
indeed, had already been used, and
its cartridges discharged with success
over fifty times.—Boston Herald,
SELECT SIFTINGS.
Dwarfing trees is a fine art iu Japan.
Church bells were first suggested by
Panlinius, an Italiau Bishop.
The photograph was recently put to
use as a witness iu a London damage
suit.
Next to the lion and tiger tho jag¬
uar is tho largest member of the cat
family.
Twenty-eight big ocean passenger
steamships belong to the British aux¬
iliary navy.
The people of England and America
average taller than any other repre¬
sentatives of the human family.
The Pennsylvania Hospital, in Phil¬
adelphia, is the oldest hospital iu the
United States. It was built iu 1875.
A copy of the first Chinese diction¬
ary, made by Chinese scholars in the
year 1109 B. C., is still preserved at
Pekin.
The tambourine is a combination of
the drum and rattle. It is found rep¬
resented on Egyptian monuments
2000 B. C.
A small boy at McCool, Neb., caught
two catfish in the Blue River. Their
combined weight is reported as thirty
two pounds.
The largest artificial stone in the
w'orkl forms the base of Bartholdi’s
Statue of Liberty, Bedloo Island, New
York Harbor.
In New Zealand there are miles upon
miles of forests of kauri trees, which
average over 200 feet in height and
fifty feet iu girth.
The oldest epitaph in England is
found in a country churchyard in Ox¬
fordshire, dated 1370. Its obsolete
language is almost unintelligible.
The germ of the trumpet, and all
instruments of tho trumpet family,
w T as the cow’s horn, used by savages
as a signal to furnish a noise at their
feasts.
A very large American- eagle has
been killed at Landers, Col., after
making havoc among the lambs there¬
abouts. It weighed fourteen pounds
and measured eight feet from tip to
tip.
H. H. Piper, a painter, fell from
the steeple of St. Mary’s Convent, in
St. Louis, and suffered no other injury
than a scratched cheek, although the
fall was sixty feet and Piper weighs
175 pounds.
A rainbow trout weighing six pounds
and twelve ounces dressed was caught
by George Plummer at Melrose, Wis.,
the other day. This is said to be the
largest fish of the sort ever caught in
Wisconsin.
The Laconia (N. H.) State Fish
Hatchery will turn out about 1,200,
000 trout fry this year. New Hamp¬
shire doesn’t propose to lose the sum¬
mer boarding trade if plenty of trout
can avert such a misfortune.
In 1745 Dr. Watson stretched a wire
across the Thames, in England, and
sent an electric shock through it from
one observer to another. He was ac¬
cused of witchcraft and iiad much
trouble in proving liis innocence.
There are six continents Europe,
Asia, Africa, North America, South
America and Australia. Some geog¬
raphers say that there are only five
continents, giving Europe and Asia as
one continent; but the number first
given is the usual number.
The (Question of Ivory. '
The ivory question is important, be¬
cause ivory is the wealth of the slavt
trader far more than are his slaves.
Ivory is now found almost exclusively
in the Congo State. The elephant is
exterminated in Uganda and in Nyas
aland. Some 500 tons of ivory reach
London yearly, but the supply is de¬
creasing. It is estimated that 75,00C
elephants are being killed every year,
and, if this is true, even the Congo
herds cannot long survive such slaugh¬
ter.
It is generally agreed that, as the
she-elephant has only one calf every
two or three years, the destruction is
going on much faster than the breed
ing. Meamvhile it is to be remem
bered that ivory is essentially a slave
trade product, and comes from the
lands of Tippoo Tib. The sale of arms
and ammunition must be prevented
from all sides. The sale of spirits of
fers less temptation to the European
j trader, because these Arabs are Mos
j lems, and do not drink. —The Edin
burgh Review.
i Recording
Color.
An ingenious instrument has been
brought into notice, called the “tin
tometer,” by which a permanent
record of any colored substance may
be secured by means of standard
glasses of various degrees of color.
This instrument has proved to be of
immense value in gauging the colors
of flours, oils and similar substances,
and now its use has been extended to
chemical work. By its use the color
of a solution of unknown strength can
be estimated, and the strength can at
once be determined by means of tables
provided for the purpose, This
method can also be employed for esti
mating the amount of lead in a solu
tion, which, if free from interfering
substances, gives a definite color with
sulphuretted hydrogen. In fact,
wherever colormetrie determinations
are desired, the tintometer may be
iooked upon as the best instrument
lor obtaining accurate results.—New
York Telegram.
NO. 25
A MORNING WALK.
ATI hall! my brave, bright world of green
and gold,
My morning, smiling from tho kiss of
night!
l’our other lover greets you. Left and
right
The air’s a-twitter in tho sunshine bold,
The air is praying in the shadowy WOld.
Sole lord am I of all this realm of sigln,
Theseswinglng meadow sweeps, this proud
delight
Of ranking hills, these clouds just out of
fold.
Stoutly tho sturdy road beneath my feet
Rings me a morning welcome, Rise, my
soul,
Tho benediction of the sky to meet.
Sound, color, fragrance, freshness—mint
the whole;
Mine to receive, and haply mine to give
Y kingly day, and kingly must T live.
—Amos It. Wells, in Harper’s Weekly.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
Man’s self-conceit is one thing that
he cannot hide under a bushel.—Gal¬
veston News.
The man who works his jaw never
has time to labor at any useful occu¬
pation. —Bust on Gazette.
Some women forget half they know,
especially when it comes to telling
their ages.—Statesman.
Thero is much tenderness in this
seemingly cruel world, but the butcher
raroly finds it.-Cleveland Plain Dealer.
It is reported that the YAle students
are about to petition for optional
prayers and compulsory baseball.—
Life.
First Dear Girl—“How did you like
my singing?” Second Dear Girl—
“Singing is not the name for it. ”—
Hallo.
It does not make much difference
how poor a man’s penmanship may bo
so long as it is honored at the bank.—
Hartford Journal.
A—“Hello, Charlie! Moustache cul
off, I see. What did you have that
done for?” B—“Fifteen cents.”—
Harvard Lampoon.
He—“Do you know, I think you
are a most singular girl ?” ^hc (coyly)
— “I assure you it isn’t from choice.”
—New York World.
Bill—“What did they throw the
policeman down the well for?” Jeff—
“I guess they wanted to put a copper
bottom on it.”—Detroit Free Press.
Sprinkle, sprinkle, oli, thou cart p
While wo wonder at the art
Which enables you to make
Of each crossing one small lake.
—Buffalo Courier.
He—“Dearest Julia will you accept,
tny hand and my fortune?” She—
“Oh, no; the first is too large, and
the second is too small.”—Kladder
adatsch.
“This,” said tho forger, as he added
another cipher to the amount of the
check, and then carefully changed the
period into a comma, “is the turning
point of my life.”—Life.
If women would extend one-half the
charity to each other that they accord
to men such a thing as a wicked
women would be as rare as a truly good
man.—Milwaukee Journal.
Beaver (jocosely)—“I wonder why
you hard-headed Westerm men wear
soft hats?” Slouch—“And I wonder
'why—er—Eastern fellows wear hard
hats?”—Frank Leslie’s Monthly.
Muller—“You always said you
would not marry except for beauty,
yet your fiancee is not even good
looking.” Schulze—“The beauty is
in her bank account.”—Kladder
adastch.
Lemon-colored hair is promised as a
new fad among London beauties,
many of whom have already adopted
it. It may be classed among the lem¬
on aids to complexion.—Philadelphia
Ledger.
Girl (weeping)—“I’m so sorry you
have to go on the road again. It al¬
most breaks my heart.” Drummer—
‘ : Don’t cry, Fanny; I’ll manage to
pick up another girl somewhere.”—
Texas Siftings.
“Is Spooney’s wife a nice house¬
keeper?” “Well, I should say so.
Why, he has to keep a private detec¬
tive to watch his clothes so he can tell
where to find them. She’s so tidy.”—
Chicago Tribune.
He -“I don’t think I ever saw a
brighter face than yours, Miss Clara.”
She—“Do you think so?” He—“Yes,
indeed. Why, if you didn’t say a
word, people would think you awfully
clever.”—Brooklyn Life.
Ethel—“Why are you always com¬
plaining because I have other admir¬
ers?” George—“Oh, if you wish to
make a syndicate of yourself, I sup¬
pose I mustn’t growl. Good even¬
ing.” —Boston Home Journal.
“Madam,” begged the tramp, “I am
a man who has seen better days—”
“Then you must be hard to suit in
the matter of weather,” replied the
woman of the house, shutting the
door in his face.—Chicago Tribune.
She—“Yes, Carrie evidently thinks
Harry is superior to all mankind. She
is forever talking about him. She
lauds him to the sky.” He—“That
is to say, she sets her beau of promise
in the heavens. ”—Boston Transcript.
“I don’t like that little moon,” said
7 ay to her brother, as she looked out
of her grandmamma’s window at the
small crescent in the Western sky.
“No, nor I,” said Jack. “I like the
round O moon we had at home two
weeks ago.”—Newport News.
“Poor man !” exclaimed the sympa¬
thetic woman. “Have you really tried
ta get employment?” “Yes’m,” re¬
plied Meandering Mike. “And with¬
out success?” “Xntirely. For three
solid days I’ve tramped the streets
trying ter git work fur me niue-year
old brother, and hain’t even got sc
much ez an encouragin’ word.”—
Washington Star.