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\V 0 M A rS_W 0 R L D.
A Few Things of Interest to the
Fair Sex.
A Facinating Homely Woman—Wo
men Who Cye Their Hair—Whin the
Strain of Winter Is Felt—Soma Bits
of Wisdom for Women’s Guidance.
Men Who Rail at Wcma's Fashions.
Her Favorite Hobby—The First Wo
man to Teach Political Economy.
Other Matters of Special Interest.
Much, says the New York Tribune, has
be n written about the fin-de-sieele girl
a: i the fashionable young married women
o; the period, but perhaps the most won
aerful product of our modern civilization
is the up-to-date old woman. Truly, she
is one of the most extraordiar;- develop
ments of vanity fair extant. There are
vi r few specimens of her class in this
country, although in England she is as
m „ h an integral part of the very queer
mixture called London society as her
younger but not more successful contem
poraries—and is quite as popular, by rea
son of her caustic tongue and
various entertainments. For it
goes without saying that the
septuagenarian belles must have
enough of this world's goods to hold their
ov u n -the swim.” It is a curious kind
of galvanized life which seems to animate
t:. se carefully preserved and made up
s „ ,-in.ens of a once gracious womanhood ;
and at a distance they pass muster fairly
v.e.l among their associates, although the
contemplative mind cannot help wonder
ii g what the individual must he like
when the paint, and chalk, and false hair,
a i false teeth, and the French gowns
a removed and the spasmodic gayety
evaporates.
hometunes, however, there is one in a
g, aeration that does not really grow old,
v, ho - ■ - complexion remains fresh, the eyes
bright and the figure youthful far past
the allotted time. Some years ago there
was a famous old beauty in one of the
5. them capitals, who, not only wore de
lei.- hall dresses at eighty, but actually
possessed the lovely neck and arms which
they require. She was most innocently
vain, and no wonder, for she was im
mensely tlaitered. and her townspeople
value t her charms iar above those of her
younger and more beautiful rivals. She
had a curious way of preparing for a ball,
w. our modern fashionable women
with their multitudinous engagements
would lino difficult U>emulate. The morn
ing before she proposed appearing in full
regalia, she would take a brisk walk, and
r;; urn in time for a midday dinner, after
w.ii h she remained quiet with her work
1 ; - out :f or 4 o'clock, when she would
1 ..:••• to her bed, take a very hot "tisane '
V> induce perspiration and remain in bed
par:aliing of some light refreshment at
the tea hour) until it was time to dress
for In r ball. Then she would get up,
to <• a bath and make the most elaborate
toilet. All the household regarded these
I reparations in the light of solemn rites,
and would never liavo dreamed of laugh
ing at them or interfering with them in
any way. Her appearance was a triumph,
r. ■ or foiling to excite the greatest ad
miration and adulation.
Miss Jane Slocum, says the New York
Pi was the first woman to teach
po’.iti -al economy and civit government to
women in this lountry. She is famed as
having made the "dismal science cheer
ful. " It was twenty-five years ago that
sin- I can this work, and many of the
i..:uitiws \ iii all parts of the country
• iln ;r first impulse to study the prob
k n s of life from the standpoint of cause
aid ..ivi to ,he teachings of this lady.
Mi: s S!o. urn, who was born in North
ern N't w York, is of Quaker parentage,
anJ taught to think from her baby
no.-!. Kc.tr of parental displeasure was
never th# incentive to right action. For
va- -.titer than the natural punishment of
' ■■■■ .doing orthcoming. “My fattier al
w i t pticti in answer to our queries as
to what ivy ought to do: 'As thee thinks
’■ m.v child.' Thus we children were
rum (Killed to study principles.”
' "ii,l what would you sayistheone
noimportant thought for all women to
• in mind?" wasasked of Miss Slocum.
1 hat woman is a rational and respon
sible being.
In the vital questions of lifeshe isheld
as soldi responsible, and the sooner she
r:L is that she is equally so with men.
•■'•r witi her paths be made plain.
As doctor, lawyer, wife, or mother,
<iuei'i, of society, she is in her every am
' ipoa to decide equitably, and this
can o.v no means do until she has learned
t- tli nk broadly and clearly. Women are
something more than pretty pets. And
! ’• and man hold them to be so in their
juugments.
' uas dining out the other day, says
t. • entlewoman, and was taken down to
u. rby an intelligent person, who (as
s uaswev. ire seated and had un folded
o,r napkins and studied our nmus)
fl. v asked: "Pary, what is your fav
o hobby?” Taken thus abruptly i
ti c: no time to invent a suitable and un
-1:v tons answer, and was, therefore,
tunica into a truthful reply: "The poe
, wi. lugs and designs of William
thane." “Mine,” he answered calmly,
as tiie ironwork of Quentin Mats.vs; so.
. -' ou "ill talk through soup and fisn
Blake. then I will talk about Quen
;, a .oatsys through the two entrees, and
tt ii we can start fair.” I thought this
" ; ’ a splendid plan and heartily recom
moti l it to all diners out who suffer
n a desire to talk about their favorite
urank.
• find the following story from Vog-
T 1 ,sl county, Austria-iIuDL-ary, in
Buda-Pesti Hirlap: “On Friday a
r> '' ,n dressed like a nun called late at
;••• house of a country judge and asked
1 or the night. The legal function
al mseed, ordered supper, and also
'•'■sii'ed that a sleeping apart—-nt might
- t ready. A young man sa ant of
dtv, not alto.ether likin h r mien.
, ’ ■ nnohis head to secrete u.aiself in
Ulr ' bedchamber.
, hen the nun had divested herself of
, ■ ,J !l r garments his suspicious were
- to be correct. For there s.ood a
who furtively looked about the
as he laid two revolvers and a knife
•ie table. Creeping from his hiding
i e. the servant gripped one of the ro
■ 1 rs and tired at the fellow, who fell
r >l/wounded. Observing from the
1 >w two or three men making o.f, the
.ut fired several shots at their re
■ -:ug forms. Jumping over the fenco,
surrounded the house, however,
effected their escape. The nun
■ iieu out to be a man the police had
I 1 a looking for for some time past.’’
1 be Duchess de L. has made a sensation
II < r superb dress of brocaded silver
w a white satin back"round. All the
’ rs. says the New York Herald, were
' lV, r and t lie bottom of the skirt was
( “‘l' and with a deep flounce of Valen*
‘ fastened in places by hooks
• aris. A role of pale blue satin rib
"'til sprays of vvtiite lilac trimmed
a. corsage.
ear there are many dresses of velvet,
?* as satin. I saw a very pretty
1® costume, the skirt being of rich
“h sal in, the bodice of purple plaited
sselmo do sole, with collar and cuffs
ale blue velvet, the collar in frout
wing a superb diamond pin of three
..i circles, and the coiffure of the lady.
, . "as a half blonde, was in the 1830
Si . 10.
Another “fetching’’ costume was a pale I
yellow mousseline de sole, spangled with
gold, the corsage being trimmed with
N’.el roses. The sleeves were of vellow
mousseline de sole, very full, and over
this was worn a mantle of yellow velvet
trimmed with blue fox, held at the nock
by a superb diamond spray.
Another dress for dinner, which was
sent to Nice, was of white satin trimaied
with white feathers and sable.
A wrap of the styleof 1 804. composed of
three 1 oilars, made of ruby velvet em
broidered in gold, was trulv a beautiful
creation.
P Theere never was a grandma haif so good”’
He whispered while 1 es.de her chair he stood.
And laid his rosy check.
With manner very m eg.
Against her dear old face in loving mood
There never was a nicer grandma born;
I know- some little : oy must e .0 lorn
Be aio-e they've none like you;
I wor.der what 1 and do
Without a grandma's Kisses night and morn?”
"There never was a dearer grandma—thire”’
He kissed her and he smoothed her snow
white hair!
T hen fixed her ruffled cap.
And nestled in her lap.
While grandma, sou flag, rockeu aer old arm
chair.
■'When I'm a man wbat lots to you 1 11 bring;
A horse and carnage and a watch and ring,
All gear. dm is aro so m.e
. Just hete he kissed her twice)
And grandmas give a soy most anything. '
Before his dear old grandma co ;ld reply.
This toy loo’ ed :p and. With a roguish eye,
J he:i whisneied i.i her ear
That r.o ody might hear,
■'Bar. grandma, have you any more mince
pie.-”
—New Orleans Picayune.
A gossiper asks: "Do you believe that
ladies who dye their hair think in their
inner woman that they deceive the male?
I don't. 1 fancy that when thev have
gone through the delicate task of changing
their luxuriant dark tresses into a mass
of curly flaxen locks and have piled them
on the summits of their heads they glue
into their mirrors and simply say to them
selves that they look very wicked ; and,
as a matter of fact, they do; especially
when they happen to have a rebellious up
per lip, streaked with some of those dark
lines of masculine energy, which is one of
the characteristics of Andalusian beau
ties.
“But is the male deceived by these
tricks of the toilets? 1 think not? Why?
Because all men know my dear, lau thing
sisters of many tints and shades of color,
at least those who have had a tiny bit of
experience, that there are blondes with
dark eyes, but that never was a woman
born with golden or even fair hair ac
companied with eyebrows and lashes that
were dark.
"I once asked a dear friend of mine
why she dyed. ‘Why,’ she exclaimed.
•Why, to make myself look fetching, of
course. A fair girl alway s gets more at
tention from a mau than a brunette. You
never heard of a blonde dying herself
dark!” She had read a little, that pretty
naughty friend of mine, and she con
tinued: ‘Venus, Eve, the women, the
ideal, is not always represented with
golden hair? Do not the poets and song
sters chant the praise of the blonde?
Have we not had that chant ding-donged
into our aural organs from the time wo
first managed to crawl out of the cradle?
Apart from that.
George W. Childs once said to a girl
from the west, says the New York Times,
who went to him with letters and the
hope of getting sufficient influence to do
something in the arable field of jour
nalism :
"Little woman, if you can do something
go ahead and do it. The world is hungry
for something new. it is an omnivorous
creature, but it wants a change, con
stantly. Keep as quiet as you can. Keep
out of men’s way as much as you can, for
it is trespassing to go on private prop
erty. Keep yourself in good health, good
spirits and good clothes, aud don’t try to
be a good fellow or one of the boys. Save
half of your earnings. Go to church. Be
agreeable but reserved, and if some hon
orable man offers you his name and his
protection, give it all up, marry him and
uevoie your energies to homemaking.
"The business world is no place for a
woman. It is a rough place, and people
have to get rough to succeed in it. I
know hundreds of gentlemen in busiuess,
but they always seem to me like going
fishing in a dress suit and white gloves.
Exquisite fabrics are not intended for
rough and ready wear.
There is nothing in this weary world,
says the Atchison Globe, more unsatis
factory and discouragiug than to give a
present that cost $5 that looks as if it
didn't cost more than $2.
It is a bad sign when a young husband
begins to go to see his folks without bis
bride.
You are getting too old to flirt and
dance if you can take a nap sitting up in
a chair.
When a man discovers that hi3 wife be
lieves everything*he tells her. he teils her
things that are not true.
It depends entirely upon how much sho
has whetherjir n:tt it embarrasses a wo
man to have her back haircut down.
It doesn't take more than three months
to take away ilio triumphant air a young
married woman wears in the presence of
unmarried ones.
A married woman's description of an
ideal man is a picture of the kind she
didn't get.
We are willing to bet that the devil is a
married man.
The trouble with people being religious
is that they are too conceited to imagine
they have anything to repent of.
"No.'’ admitted a man this morning,
“my wife never teils me that she is fond
of me, but she always makes the kind of
pie 1 like best.”
It has been our experience that women
will forgive swearing and drinking
whisky quicker than i hewing tobacco.
Some people get married becaus they
are tired o; coing in love. So much less
is e pec ted of married people than of
lovers.
j.. 0 .v very seldom it is you hear of a
woman giving a family dinner ,o which
her husband s relatives are invited.
Have you noticed how baseless are the
grievances o votir frien s? \ our griev
ances have an equ illy ridicuoas founda
tion to your friends. W’e all make too
much of our troubles.
The most affectionate family we ever
knew was composed of nine different
members, and they lived in nine different
towns.
When a man wants to marry a man her
father opposes, she finds a champion in
her mother. A mother will always op
pose her udgment to her husband’s in a
case of this kind.
When a man is a little queer as a lover
lit is awfully queer as a married man.
•dm humble lover makes a very domi
ueeriug husband.
The maid of honor relieves the bride of
her bouquet at the altar, hands it to the
first bridesmaid when it is time for her to
assist the bride with her glove, or to
throw back the veil; later on she takes
it again and presents it to the bride just
before she takes her husband's arm and
turns from the altar, writes. Isabel A.
Mallon. in the Mar, li Ladies' Home Jour
nal. The bride who is wise wears a
somewhat loose glove on her left hand, so
that the removal of it is an easy matter.
A bride always gives her bridesmaids
their gloves and usually presents them
with some little sou enir of the wedding.
The bridegroom usually vivos each a piece
of jewelry in which his and the bride's
initials are combined. He presents
the best man and ushers with their
gloves, ties, and very often their scarf
pins. Custom has made it proper for the
bridegroom to wear a gardenia in his nut
tonhole. the best man an orchid, and the
ushers bouquets either of white violets,
or some other white flower. In entering
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MARCH 4. 1891.
the church the ushers come first, then
the bridesmaids, walking two by two.
then the maid of honor alone, and the
bride on the arm of her nearest niale re
lative. In coining out tne bride and
groom are first, the maid of honor next
wit h the best man. and usually the brides
niaides. each walking with an usher. I
say usually because sometimes the brides
maids walk out toge.her as the v came in.
with the ushers just behind them. In
dee i. there is no limit to the different
ways in which the bridal party may en
ter and leave the church in these fin de
siecle days.
People rarely feel the strain of winter,
says the New York Tribune, until the cold
weather is nearly over. Whether it is
that the system becomes enfeebled
through the enforced confinement in a
closer atmosphere, or whether latent
germs develop under such fa orable con
di .ions. it is hard to determine, but cer
tain it is that the "Ides of March" are
always dreaded by the house-mother as a
period of possible sickness in the family.
An ounce of prevention, therefore, just at
this time, is strongiy recommended to be
distributed among the various members
of the household. Children who have
been studying hard all winter should be
carefully watched, and if they seem
fatigued should have their tas is light
ened. Young girls who have been leading
a moreorless artificial life during the sea
son should ho made to keep ear./ hours,
take regu.ar exercise and eat nourishing
food: the business men should take "a
week o.I” if possible and obtain utter rest
for miDd and tody. And in taking care
for others the mother herself should not
be forgotten or self-forgetful, but should
follow herself the rules she lays down for
others.
There in no better tonic at this time,
says a noted physician, than a glass of
hot milk sipped slowly, and taken when
fatigued it is a far better “pick-me-up”
than any stimulant would be. It is a
capital remedy, too, for restoring color to
pale cheeks and for rounding out the an
gles of thin children. People yvho fancy
that they cannot drink milk find that by
sipping it hot and slowly it will agree
with them perfectly.
It is a melancholy truth, says the New
York Times, that men who rail at
women's slavery to fashion, and foolish
notions of dress, are among the chief ob
stacles in the way. They talk and in
veigh. but when it comes to the women's
—their women’s—acting, they prove the
stumbling blocks. When physicians who
urge their patients to do t'corsets, wear
untrammeiiug gowns, and broad-soled
boots, are not able or willing to insist
that their wives and daughters shall reap
the benefits of this advice, it militates
against its usefulness. And the lay hus
bands and fathers are no better. "You
women are geese to dress as you do,” is a
kind of stock phrase with them, but they
are tremendously tenacious that their
womenkind shall be counted in with the
flock.
“Nice woman, that Mrs. So-and-So,” a
man says, "but a little odd. you know.
Affects thick waists, short skirts and that
sort of thing.” And the same man will
look over his wife's gown and comment,
with a little mournful philosophy; “My
dear, I’m afraid you're growing stout.
, Where is that slender sylph I married?”
Men have’got a distinct oMce in this
dress reform movement. They have got
to accord their individual support as well
as to indulge in abstract theorizing. A
happy destiny has emancipated them in a
great degree. But they did not achieve
this greatness, it was thrust upon them.
There is abundant evidence to prove that
men are as devoted to dress and custom
as women, have about as many vanities
concernirg their personal appearance, and
are as willing, many of them,, to sacrifice
personal comfort to accomplish them.
The culture microbe, says the New
York Times, is a dangerous organism.
When it at a> ks persons after their first
youth and vi hout previous inoculation,
the result is often disastrous.
A family' of consequence—of recent
consequence, it must be interpolated—in
a western city are fond of entertainin?
the various celebrities who drift toward
the Occident, and as they have abundant
means and a handsome home, this very
laudible ambition is often gratified.
Not lonv ago Edmund iiussell dawned
upon the place and kindly consented to
permit his refulgent beams to shine in
their drawing room. A large reception
was arranged; among the plans for the
entertainment of the guests was one
which provided for a scene from "Mac
beth,” to be rendered b.v a young woman
of local elocutionary fame.
Unfortunately, the host and head of the
family was not fully informed of all
that was to happen, and of this especial
part of the programme he was quite ig
norant.
At the proper moment the personating
Lady Macbeth appeared at the end of the
drawing room, dressed in a trailing robe
of white and bearing a light. She moved
slowly forward, an expectant hush falling
upon the assemblage.
The host looked up. saw, and wholly
misunderstood. He hesitated only a mo
ment, then hastened forward with hos
pitable zeal:
“Why. Miss Smith, good evening, I’m
very glad to see you. May 1 re.ieve you
of y our candle?”
“Englishwomen,” remarks Lady Wilde
in her so ial studies, "seems to have a
fatal predisposition toward black, and
having reached the middle term, the
me zo eammino of life, generally retire
into a b.ack alpaca for the remainder of
their days. * * * They ought to re
member that variety of dress and the
refreshing brightness of color is charm
ing at all ages, and fills the house and
home with a flush of gladness and |oy'
which almost replaces the flush of youth.”
This inveighing against black is a part
of the new gospel of clothes as set forth
by the Dels irtists. “If you want tosbow
every month of y our age with interest,”
say s one of them, “persist in wearing
dull, uurelie.ed black.’’
Mrs. Rebecca T.utherly. of Manchester,
N. H„ is one of the links in a chain of five
generations now living, t-he is of Si otch
lrish ancestry, and was boru March 4,
17’J'd, in iMliol. Me. Her descendants
number 151 grandchildren. _
Her father and mo her were natives of
Maine, and her husband, who fought in
the war of 181 k. uied in 1858.
There were born to them eight children
—Mrs. Constance Toby. Mrs. L.vdia
Dixon, Mrs. Sarah Ann Cole, Mrs. Mary
Cole. Mrs. Nancy Dixon, Mrs. Betsey
Spinney, and Charles Tu.herly, all of El
liot, and Mrs. Rebecca D. Grant, ot' Ports
mouth. All are living, with theexeeptlon
of Mary Cole, who died in itfea, aged sev
enty-two years.
There arc fifty-seven grandchildren and
eighty-seven great-grandchildren, one of
whom, Rebecca ti. Grant, isa charming
little miss of at out five years, the daugh
ter of Mr. and Mrs.-Charles A Grant, of
this i ity. There are uiso seven greal
great-grandchildren.
Steele Macka.ve, who died the other
day, us and to tell the story of his inter
view with George Eliot, occasioned by his
dramati ation oi Silas Marner:
“She re cived me with dignity, took my
letter, read it delibera ely, and then, for
the first time, looked intently at my face,
at the same time extending her hand to
me with charming frankness. In ano.her
moment 1 was (lerfectly at home, and for
got everything in the presence of this
charming woman, for she is the most fas
cinating and the homeliest woman that I
ever saw in toy life. Her husuand. Lewes,
was there, and it was not long before I
iound m; seif comparing the couplo to the
Princess and the dragon. Mr. i.ewes sat
glowering at me all the time 1 was there, J
but alter awhile 1 succeeded in forgetting i
his presence and that he was. as far as he
could bo, the husband of George Idiot,
in intellect and genius the queen of all
England. T told her the eh mees that 1
had made in her story, parti ularly in the
conclusion, which I had to .nd no cssary
to alter wholly. The deno :cment, us I
left it. made a really strong uamatic ef
fect, and the author ot '.-dlas .Varner'
acknowledged the improvement, and re
gretted. so she said, that she had not
thought of it herself. I talked with her
three hours, and I was ama ed when I
rose to go to see how the time had fed. I
was to call at in Ihe next day to read to
her my play, in which she seemed to have
taken a real interest, but the following
day 1 received a note from the dragon
say ing that Mrs. Lewes had. upon ma
ture deliberation, decided not to have her
story drainati ed.’ Of course, the play
was never produced.”
MARVELS OF CONSTRUCTION.
The New Pnonograph and the Won
derful Vleuttograph.
From the St. Louis Globe-Biniycrat.
The Edison Phonograph Works at this
place, are expected to resume operations
next week. The skilled employes will
then begin turning out anew style of pho
nograph, differing in a number of partic
ulars from the machine now on the mar
ket. Thomas A. Edison has devoted him
self to the laboratory for some time,
shutting himself up night and day, lix-e
an old monx in a cloister, as he always
does on such occasions. Ho has been suc
cessful. and the new arrangement will not
only be sold at a cheaper price than the
old machines sell for. but the cylinders
have been so adjusted that just double the
former number of words can be placed
thereon. The old eylindrs had a capacity
of lUO lines, while the new one will re
ceive 200 lines. New butte, is have been
devised, which, while much less expen
sive, are even more elective than the
ones now in use. The new batteries, with
the improved cylinders, ei.e to the 111a
ch.ne the power of im reusing the volume
of sound, and also of furnishing double
the quantity of matter, other changes
of a technical character have been made
in the instrument, calculated to improve
its effectiveness and to decrease its cost.
Another of Mr. Edison's inventions,
calculated to furnish entertainments to
the public, will be put on the market in a
short time. This instrument Is of the
niekel-in-the-siot type of machine, has
been called the kine.ocraph, and Is in
tended to outvie the instantaneous pro
cess of photography, in that, oy means of
the peculiar mechanism with which it is
provided, a series of photographs, about
lorty to tho minute, can he taken,
bo rapidly does this machine work
that every motion of a dancers
feet, every twist or turn of a dub
swinger's wrists and arms are repro
duced. The impressions are taken on a
long strip of gelatine film with such
rapidity and accuracy that not the faint
est motion of the performing athlete is
missed. It is the intention of the inven
tor 10 have the gelatine strips manufac
tured at the same 'central point, in the
same manner as the phonograph cylin
ders. The machines will be sold or rented
to parties under the same condition as pre
vail with the phonographs. Then the
gelatine strips will be inserted, and the
weight of a nickel, as it drops through
the slot, sets the machinery iu motion and
the photographs are flashed before tho
gaze of the beholder with such regularity
that it seems to see the living subjects.
For the edification of a party of sight
seers at the Orange laboratory last week
an improvised harbor shop was fitted up
and the services of a nearby tonsorial ar
tist were secured. An attend nt at the
laboratory took a seat in the chair, and
the machine was set in motion. The
barber lathered his man and then pro
ceeded to shave him in regulation style.
While the barber was at work several
pretended customers entered, and one
showed the barber a humorous para
graph in a newspaper.
When the strip of gelatine was again
passed through the Kinetograph every
detail of the shave, every motion of
the barber's hands, each expression of
the meu’s faces was reproduced so per
fectly and so well timed that the specta
tors could see the scenes repeated in the
machine.
As yet the new instrument has tio com
mercial value, but the parties interested
believe that its possibilities as a means
of furnishing amusement are unlimited.
It is claimed that by the use of this ma
chine all the rounds of a boxing contest,
every blow in a prize fight or other con
test, can be peproduced and the whole
pla-ed on exhibition at a ni kle a head.
“Stories of the great inventor are always
in order,” said one of the party, aftsr the
kinetograph had been duly inspected and
praised. "I heard one recently which re
lates to his ear’ v career as an inventor,
and which I do not believe has ever yet
found its way into print. This tale re
lates to the very first invention that Mr.
Edison sold to the Western Union Tele
graph Company, at a time when he was
but little known. This invention was
nothing more nor les3 than the stock
ticker, which, wuh very few alterations
or improvements, is still in use. Thor
oughly satisfied that th.s invention was a
success. Mr. Edison laid it before tbe
president of the Western Un'on Telegraph
Company with many a doubt and fear,
not as to the value of his invention, but
abo ;t his chances of receiving fair treat
ment from the corporation.
“The officers *of the company speedily
recogni ed the worth of the lit le instru
ment, and the young man was asked to
name his figure lor the inven’ion. Edl
son had previously made up his mind if
he received $5,000 for it ho would be do
ing well, but he modestly answered that
he would leave that matter with the com
pany. Another consultation of the di
rectors was held. and. much to Edison’s
surprise, lie was o ered #40,000 for his lit
tle invention. Concealing his amazement
as much as possible, the inventor closed
the bargain, but. however, not without a
lingering s spicion that the company
meant in some way to get the better of the
deal and to do him out of his invention.
The bargain was closed and Edison re
ceived a check for his money. More
troui le confronted him when ho went tc
the bank .o have it cashed. The clerks
looxea as tan e at tbe stranger who
waqted so large a check turned into cash,
and informed tho young man that he
would have to be identified. A clerk
from the Western Union telegraph o Cos
furnished the necessary identification,
and tbe cashier set about paying over tho
money.
“Edison had reques’ed that the money
be paid to him in ;5 and $lO bills, and the
cashier began to -sin - out the p ickages in
lively order Edison star ed in to dispose
of the packets and first tilled the inside
poc .ets of his coal; then the outside
pockets were filled '.o their full capacity.
Still the b ndles kept coming and down
they went into trousers rockets. Finally,
when all his pockets w re filled, he opened
his its; and stowed the surplus packages
down in.o tho waist of his tro s: rs.
Literally loaded with cre-nba ks, he re
turned to Newark, where be was then
residing. The (mssession of s ich an
amount of money ga e him considerable
un -asiness, and he returne i ne t dav to
the Western Union o Lee in New York,
where he was advised to deposit his
money in a bank, and later turned a large
portion of it into channels that ha e
since rendered to him a good account
ing.”
Sweet Childhood.—Tommy—Europs s in the
east isn t it pa:”
His Fa'her-- Acs.
Tommy—And vou cm get there Just by
starting west nn l going far enough, can t
you?
Lis Father—Certainly.
Tommy—,,e!, then, whereabouts on the
way round do oa :.o .gin; west and lALin
to get east again :—Lhuav O Uooord.
GHOSTLY HORSEMAN
OF THE BIG HORN.
From (he New York Herald
My shanty was situated in the Big
Horn Mountains, Wyoming. With the
exception of two co panious and some
friendly trappers, who lived auout five
mile distant, 1 had not seen a white man
for nearly a year.
One day I was out hunting with Ander
son Picket. We had list sighted an an
telope and were occupied in st liking the
animal, when suddenly we heard the
neighing 01 a horse near us. Surprised
at such an unusual sound in a uei bbor
hood where very few human beings were
to be encountered, we looked up and saw
hardly .O 0 paces from us. a rider whose
head was unco.ered aud his long hair
fioa,ing in the wind that blew across the
hills. He was a white faced, haggard
man, mounted on a thin horse
lor a few seconds he remained motion
less, and then disappeared as suddenly as
he had come.
“A highwayman.” whispered Picket.
"What should a marauder be doing
here?” I replied, doubtfully. "For a dis
tance of COO or 400 miles no one, with the
exception of you, myself aud the 1 rappers
upon the creek can be found. Not a sin
gle soul to hold up. Let us see who the
fellow is.”
Quickly mounting our horses and drop
ping our game for the time b>ing, we gal
loped up the hill, following the stranger,
who was slowly riding
toward the north.
"That animal hasn't had much fodder
or rest lately,” laughed my companion,
i’ll wager he hasn't ten pounds of hesh on
his bones.”
"I'd like to know who the man is and
what ho is doing alone in these solitary
hills.” said I, inquisitively. “Come, got
a gait on the horse; lot’s get our game
and follow the fellow."
After acting upon this suggestion we
returned to the pursuit, and were hardly
a hundred paces behind him when I
shouted:
"Hello, my man! Where aro you bound
for?”
The borso t urned his head toward us,
but the rider did not move, and immedi
ately started off at a breakneck gallop.
Although we were well mounted and en
deavored to follow him, he soon disap
peared in a path thickly overgrown with
brushwood. We consequently lost, scent
of the fugitive, and my companion very
seusibl.v observed that we had bettor not
follow him, as he might easily blow out
our brains, under sholter of the rocks or
hidden behind tho brushwood, before wo
were aware of his presence. We, there
fore, retraced our steps toward our cabin,
which we reached an hour later.
My second companion, who. in conse
quence of a slight wound, had remained
at home, came toward us in great excite
ment.
“I’m glad you're back, boys!” he
cried.
“Heavensl man, what has happened?”
I asked anxiously.
He was as white as a corpse and sighed
as if relieved when we reached him
“It was awful, I tell you, awful 1 In all
my life I shall never forgot what has
happened to me."
“Come along, stop your quaking, and
tell us what’s wrong. ’Seen any suckers
or a ghost?’ ” said I smilingly, while An
derson added impatiently.
“lou’vehada visit, haven't you? A
highwayman on an old gray nag—”
"How do you know that?” stammered
Jim, quickly interrupting him. “Nome
one was here, but it wasn't a roadman.
IT WAS A GHOST.”
While he said this ho shivered from
head to foot and looked around anxiously
on all sides.
“Don’t be a fool,” I laughed. “Tell us
a straight story. What has happened to
you?”
Meanwhile we had reached the cahin,
and as I sprang from the saddle Jim
pointed with trembling hand to tho
ground.
"Here, look at this; you can see tho
prints of tbe ghostly horse's hoofs,” s iid
he. in a voice full of excitement. "I was
cleaning up things in the cabin when I
suddenly heard a noise outside. I thought
you fellows had returned, and went out o’
doors to meet you. Horrified, I sprang
back: before me, on a horse, nothing but
skin and bones, was a man without a hat,
with long black hair. He sat bolt up
right in tho saddle; he had a thick black
beerd; his face was ashen gray; and two
eyes, wide open, stared at me in a
ghastly way, as only a spoctor's can. I
wanted to cry out. but m.v tongue seemed
glued to my mouth—l felt hair s.anding
on end. Then tho ghost turned his horso
started oY at a gallop—l could plainly
hear the rattling of the rider’s and the
horse's bones.”
Jim shuddered again at the remem
brance of the horrifying spectacle.
“That was the same fellow that wo fol
lowed !” cried Anderson; and I could
only agree with him.
We then told Jim of our adventure, and
quieted him b.v reasoning that it could not
have been a ghost, but rnnply a human
being, possibly some lunatic
It was my custom beiore going to bed to
look after the horses. I left the hut that
evening, as usual, bat hardly had I taken
a few steps, when suddenly 1 stopped as
though my feet were
BOOTED TO THE GROUND.
Directly in front of me, in the bright
moonlight, stood the same ghostly rid r.
His lung black hair hung loosely round a
ghastly fa e. Th s eyes were sunk deep in
tiieir soc .ets. Tho mouth w: wide open
and the glimmer of the white teeth could
be seen behind ihe black beard ;in his
left hand he held the re ns, while tho
right hung limply bv his side lie sat in ;
the saddle as hough hewn out of stone, .
without the slightest motion.
I had the same feeling as .;im. I wanted
to cry out, but could not; only a hoarse
whisper came from my throat, but, in
still lively, my hand sought the revolver
at m.v side. I slowly raised my six
shooter and covered the frightful appari
tion. Then I found ray voice:
"Who are you? Answer or I’ll shoot,”
I said.
At the sound of my voice the horse,
whii h consisted of nothing but skin und
bones, jumped to one side, and bum horse
and rider went ot’au bread!) -k gallop,
the buliets which I sent af.er them
taking no elect. I distinctly heard the
peculiar rattle of which ..im b id spoken,
and wbi b gra lualiy grow dimmer ami
dimmer, un il nothing ould be dis in
guisbed but the far-off clatter of horse’s
hoo s on the ro 'ky ground.
My heart wa3 ueati.ig violently as I re
entered the hut. Not one of us closed an
eye that night. I tossed to and iro in
vain, speculating wnaf was to be done If
the un iinn.v thing reappeared. When at
last morning dawned, 1 resolved to rido
over to the trappers at the creek and get
their advice.
SOON AFTER SUNRISE
I started, and a ter two hours’ ride saw
the sha it.y of my frien Is so ne little dlx
tanee ahead. They came to meet me with
their guns in their hands rea ly to shoot.
“Lucky lor you that our eyes are accus
tomed to long ran te. and that the air is
clear io-day. else either you or yo ir horse
would have a b illet between bis bones
row,” said the elder of tbe two trappers,
as .1 reached them, holding out his hand
in friendly greeting.
“ihai's so.” answered the other, also
shaking bis han .s, but with a very sol
emn air. “Charley is right. We were
ready to shoot, but luckily saw our mis
take in time.”
“.Since yesterday we have hem on the
watch. We’ie been foo ed long enough,
and mean to maze an eud to this inlernai
nonsense,'’ said the first trapper
“Has a singular-looking rider also paid
you a visit?” 1 cried eagerly.
0 P O
IJLJLS—I_£
PRICKLY ASH, POKE ROOT
and potassium
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MarValOUS CUrOS
-- - -----
* i . „
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a _•
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_ _ B
and Scrofula
umm voi uimiu
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Tor r.rlmsry.s.oondsry and tertiary
ffi^l , .o f D or ^ PO iDfn2sil? , "d
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eczema - we may nay, without fear or
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pi mu iwnwu win
Ladies whoao lyttemn are poinoned
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,i, i |
BPEINOFIBLD, Mo. , AUff- 14th.
—I cm !*o#k In the highest terms of
▼our medicine from my own Personal
ki.owledir#. I wna Affected with heart
disease, ploorly and rheumatism for
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l^^^^ n r; P kn U o t ;n U y‘ , riVwU>-
ctheerfully say It. has done mo more
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MRS. M. M. YEARY,
Springfield, Uruen County, Mo.
KEHOE’S IRON WORKS,
IRON AND BRAPS FOUNDERS. MACHINISTS. BLACKSMITHS AND BOILERMAK
ERS. ENGINES, BOILERS AND MACHINERY, SHAFTING, PULLEYS, ETC.
Special attention to Ropilr Work. Estimates promptly furnished. Broughton stree
rom Ro/nol.sto Randolph stra ts. Telophona 263.
THE CENTRAL
The Ben Hur
Will be Leaders
IN SAVANNAH
IN ie94.
Write for our elegant descriptive catalogue
CENTRAL CYCLE MANUFACTURING CO.,
INDIANAPOLIS, INI).
HAY, GRAIN, FEED.
All Varletiss CGW PE S, STRAW, Etc.
Sole Agent Wilbur’s Seed Meal
for horses and cows.
Wilbur's White Hock Hoof
Packing for the cure of all dis
eases oi the horse’s foot and frog.
T. J. DAVIS,
Grain Dealer and Seedsman,
Telephone 223. IMI Bay street
The friends looked at each other in as
tonishment.
"Do you know the beggar?” asked Jack
quickly.
"1 uon’t know him, but it is on his ac
count that lam here." And 1 related our
adventure, to which both listened atten
tively.
“No doubt it’s tbe satire fellow who got
the best of us,” said Charley, shaking his
head. “Day before yesterday wo siw
him for tho first lime. Ho took no notice
of us and seemed to be deaf to our shouts.
Ai out noon he and his mis rable old horse
stood there just opposite our shanty,
‘ilailo. what do you want?’ 1 called out.
No answer. A minute afterward he was
gone, in the evening he drew rein up
there on the hill again. As he wouldn’t
answer me I lost patience and
GOT OUT MY SHOOTER,
But before I could raise it, tho fellow
again disappeared. But I’m not going lo
bo fooled to dav. I’ll send tho Pullet
through him or his horso.”
I willingly accep ed the trappers' invi
tation to stay with thorn during tho dav.
Our con versa,ion turned al uost exclus
ively on the mysterious stranger. In tbe
afternoon 1 accompanied h ai to taeir
traps, and, while they were setting thorn,
I walked up and do vn w.tu my gun in
m.y hand. We had resolved as soon as
the rider should reappear, o suuot his
horse, and in that way get this singular
creature in our hands.
The day was drawing to a close, and
the peaks of the mountains w.re dyed in
tbe sunli ht.
“The fellow has a notion vv ''re going
for him,” said J.io “1 shoulun tbe sorr
if he slipped by us now, xor lam an jous
to see what sort of ”
He slopped suddenly, and the words
seemed as if fro .en to his lips as he s ood
staring at tho rocks opposLe tbe hut
There, on the top of the bids, clearly out
line . against, the red sky, was tbe ghostly
rider. I also stoo l s.anng spellbound at
the apparition. Then a shot rang out aau
the horse fell forward.
"Lome ou, and don’t ,et tho fellow
crawl from under and get out!” trie.
C harley, with the smoking gun still in
his uand, and. pulling our rovol ers from
our belts, we all scurried over the frozen
creek that ran in front of our shanty anu
up the declivity, .lack was mo first to
reach the too. VVith one bound ho stood
uext to the rider, who la.v motionless on
the quiver.ng horse, of which be
WAS STILL ASTRIDE.
“Hold him?” yelled Charley, with
whom I was close on Jack's heels.
“It's not necessary," s iid Jack, bcwil
drod. “lor you've shot the bergar dead.'
“Nonsense!” said Charley, angrily
“I kno A exactly wucre my bullet hit. I
MEDICAL
Pimples, Blotches
and Cld Sores
~ _
Catarrh, Malaria
and Kidney Troubles
Ar * •‘.tlrely by
—Prickly Ash. Puke Root and Potas
slum, tho greatest blood purifier oa
Xfsesiui Lippman Bros., f-nvannah.
Oa. : Dear Sirs—l boujrhc a bottle of
your P P P. at Hot Spriur* .Ark., and
It has done me more *oon than three
months* treatment at the Hot Spring a.
Bead three bottles C. O. I).
o^****.
Aberdeen, Browfc County, O.
Capt. J. D. Johnston.
_ „ . .. . .
. ma V <" on £ 9 *' n: 1
testify *o the ™y d ***°!
or P. I. I. for eruptions of the skin. I
Jggggagff di<Tru?tTon ou
Jf/but ?n valnmitfl V? fTisnKd
1
w*** w >•
feavauaan, ua.
Sfcln Cnnecr Cured,
Testimony fromihe Mayor of
B*9* m. Tkx., Jannary 14. 1893.
Messrs. Liftman Bros.. Savannah,
r,a : have tried your P.
>'■ l*- fur a disease of the akin, usually
known aa akin oaueer.of thirty year.'
standing, and fouurl great relief ; 1C
par Ulan the blood and removeaalllr
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>'■>' protects any spreading of the
tore*. I have taken fl veor six bottles
and ffel confident that soother coarse
? ,i r J I rSmlSn
VJnfi stomach
troUDlt J. *£, u 'Jx WTTH t
';L P
Attorney at law,
ECtt (HI M CISM *10116(1 MB.
ALL DRUGGISTS SELL IT.
rnnsu ssi nmrars
LIPFR.IAH LilFiOS.
*a w .
PROPKIETOP.B,
IJitpsnan’s UKock,*avann*li,caa
MACH MIRY. CASTINGS ETC.
WHEN OTHERS FAIL
CONSULT
Dr, Broadfoot,
If sfik and despon cat, the t est medical
help Is none too good Whv not consult a
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Whatever opinion is given by him you can
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S Special at
tention t o
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Nervous dis
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Its attending
ailments of
young and
middle aged
men. the sir
ful effects of
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and Improp
erly treated
ness of t ody
" land brain,
ft falling mcm
ft ory, and
' t r easing
symptoms,
unfitting one for study or business. Blood
and .skin Llseases. bores. Tumor Dimples,
Tetter Gczema.i. Lers. Loss of ilalr, .Scrofula
aid lllooil poison of every nature, primary
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eradl a ed. Unnatural dlscha ges promptly
cured In a few nays. Quck. s re and safe.
Mail treatment given by sondln ' for symp
tom blanks. No l for men. No. 2 for women.
No. x for skin diseases All core, s onuon e
answered p.o opily. ll elness strictly con
fidential Entire troa m nt sent free from
o nervation to all parts of the country. Ad
dress or call on
.1 BROADFOOT, AL D„
138 Broughton street (upstairs).
Savannah. Ga.
aimed at the horse’s left eye,” he added.
“Tnere it is!”
Mein while Jack was examiutng tho
rider i losoly.
“What is this’” ho cried, astonished.
“Tho fellow Is bound last to the horse
look here!—even with a chain.” Horrl
ffed. he sprang back. “Look! The man
has an ark around his neck. Great
God! he's been hanging—he's been lashed
to the horse, an.l the poor beast has been
carrying around a lifeless burden!”
Fil e 1 with astonishment and horror,
we saw that Jack s suspi, ions admitted
of no doubt. The rope ha t sunk deep
in.o tho man’s muscu.ar throat and the
knot was still attached to it.
Charley then raised tho dead man's
head.
“Why, its Black Sam!” he exclaimed.
“Ho was a wild leilow. but he got his
deserts. His gun was always ready, and
he lias sent many a gool fellow to pass in
his checks. Who knows ho w long it is
that he has been astride this horse?
Corpses do not decompose up here in the
mountains, but dry up; I’ve often noticed
that in dead ammais.
. SHUDDERING
Ho turne| away. The dead man. with
w,.hered lace ands aring eyes, had a
truly horrifying appearance.
“ vVhat 11 we do with h.m!” asked Jack,
after a short pause.
Charley considered a moment, then an
swered. while he unfastened the hands
wuteii tied tiie dead man to the dead
horse.
“t>-nd a hand here, boys. It’s our duty
to give Dim a Cbr.s.ian u„rial. .Let's pus
him in the gully.” ,
in a few moments the dead man was
released. Char ey took him by the
shoulders, Jack and I uy the legs, and so
we earned hlui to too pla e indicated, and
by our united e ior-.s soon had a grave
dug, in wnich he was laid. Alter this
had been filled in we rolled stones and
,mull rojk over it to prevent tho wolves
from disturbing the dead.
It was night before we bad finished our
work. A so.emu stil ness reigned over
all; no sound was to oe heard, and with
unco crod heads we u ter .id a short
prayer. "God bo tnerciiul to this poor
sinner.” added Charley. Then wesxientiy
returned to the hut.
We retired that night earlier than
isual, and even in my dreams tbe ghost
riJer appeared to me. I awoke several
irnes bathed in p. inspiration, disturbed
oy tho loud howls piercing the stillness of
vtio night. Wolves were eagerly fighting
over the bones of the dead horse.
Next day 1 returned home and related
o my astonished lricnds the end oi the
ghost rider.
13