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THE OLDEST CHEF.
Old Father Time-they’ve recital, given him,
In jest and song and
'A host of curious and legends title;
But Many I have a name heard him named—
never
And faith! I am not deaf—
I never heard the people call
Old Father Time a chef,
v-
And who but he may spread the clod
With harvest? Who is the able
To turn the upland and plain
Into a loaded table?
X Behold him keep until the last
1 The richest, rarest brew, \
And serve it in the vesper hour—
A goblet filled with dew.
k Pardonable Deception.
U B UT, Bella, you can’t pos¬
sibly be thinking of giv¬
ing up Paul because of
^ this misfortune? You don’t
really mean to break your engage¬
ment? I can't believe it of you; it is
too heartless.”
Nora Clavening spoke iudignantly.
her cheeks flushed, and her dark eyes
turned angrily on her sister.
They were "wonderfully alike as far
as height, build and features went, but
their coloring was different.
Bella was fair, with light, golden
hair, and forget-me-not blue eyes,
while Nora's eyes were blue, too. but
almost violet in hue, and her hair was
the shade of ripe chestnuts, and her
skin less dazzliugly fair than her sis¬
ter’s. Their voices again had a mar¬
velous resemblance; it seemed as if
the same person were speaking when
the one "ceased and the other spoke.
They were twins, which accounted for
the strong physical resemblance that
they bore each other, but their char¬
acters were the very opposite, and
their,tastes also.
Belia stood moodily by the fire
shifting the little ornaments on the
mantlepiece with restless fingers.
Her sister continued: “You wrote
me such glowing letters of Paul, giv¬
ing me to understand he was every¬
thing that was perfect, and now—”
“Now he is not so; that’s all,” in¬
terrupted Bella, flippantly. “How can
I be expected to marry a blind man?
The thing is impossible; he went away
fulj of hope that this wonderful Ger¬
man oculist would cure him; now, you
see”—holding out a letter—"he writes
telling me he has returned totally
dull with little hope of ever re¬
gaining his sight, and begs tjat I will
go and see him as soon a possible.
How can I? What am 1 to say?”
“What are you to say?” passionately.
“Why, that you will mutiny him as
soon as possible; that you will be eyes
to him no-w, and by your love and care
will try to compensate to him for the
terrible loss of his sight,” answered
Norm
“What a pity it wasn’t you instead
of me to whom he was engaged. It’s
no use, Nora, the thing must be at an
end. and what I want you to do is to
go and break it to him. If you won't,
I suppose I must write, for it’s no use
my seeing him; I can’t do that, it
•would only mean a painful scene,
which may as well be avoided,” and
Bella gave au impatient kick with her
daintily-shod foot to a coal that had
fallen from the bars.
“I break it to him? But he does not
know me; you forget I’ve not been
home a week,” remonstrated Nora.
“That .doesn’t matter: he knows you
from your letters, which he was al¬
ways interested iu, and said he
thought you must be charming. You
must do it, Nora; you have tact and
can soften the blow, for he’ll feel it
pretty badly, I’m afraid; still, how can
he expect any girl to marry him now?
Fancy being tied to a blind man I Oh,
I couldn’t face such a future.”
“You are cruel as well as heartless,
and I’m sorry for the man who marries
you. Yes, I will go, and I’ll do my best
for him. I must ask for his sister, I
suppose; she lives with him. doesn’t
she?” demanded Nora.
“Yes, she is faded and forty, and ca¬
pricious, but not a had sort, although
she never took to rue, but was only
civil for her brother’s sake, whom she
adores. What are you going to say?”
“Heaven knows!” ejaculated Nora,
fastening her sailor hat on with a jet
pin.
“Well, do it gently,”^ called her sister,
ns the other girl opened the glass door
leading into the garden and started
bn her thankless errand.
“She might have shut the door,”
muttered Bella, with a shiver. “How
cold it is for May,” she said, as she
closed the glass door and turned back
to the fire. She drew a low chair close
up to the fender, and, stretching out
her hand for a new magazine, was
soon immersed in the contents of an
interesting article on coming fashions.
* * ♦ * * * * *
“Will you go iu and see him at once?
The news you bring is only what I
expected; your sister never really
cared for Paul; she thought she did,
and admired him, and was flattered by
his attentions, but there was no real
love. You have a painful task before
you; do your best to comfort him, if
that be possible.”
And Miss Beresford turned away,
motioning Nora fo enter the room
wh‘ere_£ rBeresford was seated. He
r aloue, sitting by the fire,
dd to see no papers on the
e him. He heard the soft
the woman’s gown, and
sightless eyes in her direc-
patures an extremely handsome
almost perfect, and
rown eyes had not yet be¬
at and expressionless. Nora
it some words of sympathy
tsion, l)f and his face lit up at
her voice; he rose and
|y land to so meet quickjyliow hej^SSo, good you
Who bakes the tuber in its hill.
The pippin in the sun?
Who drops the cherry and its wine,
When sweet and ripe and done?
Who gathers up the heat and light,
Ana rain and summer breeze.
Anil mixes in and the fruiting sugar sip
Of flowers trees?
Old Father Time—and who are guests
At this delicious feast?
The whole wide world of fish and fowl,
And every man and beast.
And as we sip the breakfast from
He His overflowing hand, if?
is preparing the mellow supper, too,
Upon land!
—Aloysius Coll, in Good Housekeeping.
of you Bella! Come here, dear, and
let me feel your hands in mine. Oil,
my darling, if I have you I can bear
this terrible blow. Your love and
sympathy and sweet faithfulness are
more than sight to me,” he said, in a
voice that shook a little with emotion,
and then, before Nora could answer
him, she felt his arms round her and
his lips pressed against her own.
Sometimes love steals into a woman’s
heart step by step; sometimes it comes
with a sudden leap. With that kiss
and passionate embrace Nora’s heart
gave a great throb, and her pulses beat
with a strange, overwhelming passion.
W T hen she drew away from the shel¬
ter of his arms her face was crimson,
her eyes full of tears, and she Ayas
violently. He had mistaken
her for Bella—how was she to tell
him?
Miss Beresford sat in her drawing¬
room waiting, and wondering greatly
when half an hour went by and Nora
had not returned. She went into the
hall and listened for a moment, think¬
ing, perhaps, the girl had left with¬
out seeing her again, but she heard
voices, and, stranger still, the sound
of a laugh fell on her ear. Paul was
actually laughing, and it was a natural
laugh of pure gladness.
Marcia Beresford went back to her
room greatly puzzled. Another half
hour passed and then she heard the li¬
brary door open, and the voice, so
much like Bella’s, saying, “Yes, I will
come to-morrow, quite early, by ten
o’clock, and will read to you as long
as you like. Now, you are not to get
downcast while I’m gone. Oh! do you
really want me to say good-by again,
but I shall never go!” Then there was
the sound of her skirts fluttering
across the room again, and a few min¬
utes afterwards she reappeared in the
drawing-room with flushed cheeks,
eyes bright with tears, and trembling
lips.
“My dear, I don't understand,” ex¬
claimed Miss Beresford. The girl
closed the door, and then flung herself
on her knees beside the cider woman’s
chair.
“Oh, what have I done! What have
I done!” she sobbed.
“What! What have you done?” cried
Miss Beresford, more and more mysti¬
fied by her visitor's manner.
“I could not tell him; it was so sud¬
den; he thought— he thought I was
Bella!”
“Bella! Oh, 1 see; I understand!”
“And I comforted him. I made him
forget his misery, because he thought
I was Bella. Oh, Miss Beresford, what
am I to do?”
A flash of hope came into Marcia
Beresford’s worn face.
“Could you go on with it?” she
asked, iu a low voice.
“What do you mean?” and Nora
looked up, bewildered.
“Go on being Bella,” was the reply.
“But he must know sooner or later.”
“Y'es, but if it he later he will have
grown to love you so much that he will
never regret the real Bella, but will
love the false orie better. Think of
how dreary his life will be without
you, and the difference your love and
care will make to him. A wife is so
different from a sister. It is true. I
am urging you to choose a life of self-
sacrifice—”
“Self-sacrifice! Oh, no! It wouldn’t
be that,” murmured Nora.
“Then, you will come again to-mor¬
row ?”
“Yes, I will come!” was the answer.
'And so the days slipped by, and
Nora became everything to Paul Beres¬
ford, and no one but his sister knew
of the strange deception that was be¬
ing practiced. The real Bella was
glad to get her freedom, and chaffed
her sister about her daily visits as
reader to the blind man.
“Who knows? You might
him after all, Nora,” she said, one
day, jokingly.
“More unlikely things might happen,
certainly,” was the reply.
Nora was cutting some roses to take
to Paul. “Don’t take all the best,”
said her sister.
“You surely don’t grudge him
pleasure of your flowers,” exclaimed
Nora, hotly.
“Well, give him one from me.
half a mind to go and see him
to-day. There’s no reason why
shouldn’t be friends. Nora. I’ll
him the roses. Here, give them
me,” said Bella, holding out her
for the flowers.
Nora’s face turned pale.
“What’s the matter?, Why
I ? Marcia is gone down to the
so I sha’n’t run across her, thank
ness. I s^w her go by a few
ago. Come, Nora, I’ll go. A
has passed. It is time we shook
and he forgave me. Who knows
once I see him again old feelings
be roused once epore. I feel as if
want to sejfg hipr again.” *
When Bella was, determined to
a thing she did it, and s£e talked de¬
liberately down the/garden
through the gate. The
lived but a few steps down the road In
a pretty house, with a garden slop¬
ing to the river. Nora knew that Paul
would be seated under the big beech
there, waiting for her. It was a shel¬
tered corner at the bottom of the gar¬
den. where they spent many hours
now that the days were warm and
sunny. What was she to do? She
had never thought of this. She had
let things drift, and had shut out of
her mind all thought of the future.
But he must know now; the truth must
be told; and the full sense of her de¬
ception stood out clearly before her.
He would never forgive her. She had
done a terrible, an unwomanly thing,
and she loved him—she loved him
with her whole heart and soul.
Nora quickly overtook her sister and
accompanied her. They went across
the smooth, turfed lawn with soft
steps, but the blind man's ear was
quick to bear, and lie was listening for
Nora. It was she who spoke.
“My sister has come to see you,” she
said.
“I have brought you some roses,”
said Bella.
Paul looked from one to the other.
“Your voices are exactly alike. How
am I to tell one from the other?”
“By touch,” said Bella. “See, we
will each give you a rose; touch the
hand that gives it, and you will know
then.”
“But why? Our hands are the same
size,” said Nora, beginning to trem¬
ble.
“The touch of the woman I love will
thrill me; the other will give me no
sense of rapture,” said Paul, with con¬
fidence.
The .two girls advanced, each offer¬
ing a rose. In Bella’s hand was one
of deepest crimson; in Nora’s one of
purest white. Her heart was throb¬
bing painfully. Would his love for
Bella be awakened by her touch? She
glanced at her sister; her lips were
parted expectantly, and there was au
eager look in her eyes.
The blind man clasped the hands of
each. Then, taking the rose from
Bella’s fingers, he gently dropped her
hand; but Nora’s he held close in his.
“This is the hand of the woman I
love,” he said, softly, and touched the
white rose with his lips.
Bella flashed a look of uncompre¬
hending astonishment at both faces;
then the color fled from her cheeks.
She understood. Her voice was slight¬
ly husky when she next spoke.
“Yes, Paul, that is the woman you
love, and the woman who loves you.
Nora, I think I will leave you now,”
and she went across the sunny lawn
into the shadow of the house.
“Why did she call you. Nora?” ex¬
claimed Paul.
And she told him.
*
It was a long time that they lingered
beneath the dark branches of the cop¬
per beech, and when they moved from
beneath its shadows and stood in the
broad sunshine the day of their mar¬
riage was fixed.
They had not been married six
months when the skill of Professor
Pratt, the famous oculist, began to at¬
tract the attention of the press. His
cures were wonderful—some of them
were really considered miraculous.
Paul Beresford was induced to put
himself under his care. The result
was favorable, although for a long
time the efforts of the physician
seemed useless. At the end of three
months Paul Beresford’s vision was
restored. So, after all, Nora had ex¬
cellent reasons for congratulating her¬
self on the part she had enacted
iu a pardonable deception—New York
Weekly.
England's Elderly King.
With one exception, never since Eg¬
bert—the first King of England—came
to the throne has a successor ascend¬
ed it who exceeded, or even ap¬
proached, the present king in years.
The Saxon and Danish sovereigns had
short reigns, and for the most part
died youug. Even Alfred the Great,
who made England and ruled for thir¬
ty years, was only fifty-two at his
death. The very first of our monarchs
to attain the age of three score and
ten was our first great queen, Eliza¬
beth, and she was twenty-six when
she came to the throne. All the house
of Hanover, of whom the present king
is the seventh, have btsen long-lived,
George I., who died at sixty-seven, be¬
ing the youngest. William IV. did
not succeed his brother until he was
sixty-five, and he was older than the
king by six years. George IV. was a
trifle younger when lie came to the
throne.—London Chronicle.
A Haughty llarbcr.
It was a barber who had long served
on the cracKs of an Atlantic liner
whose saloon was visited by one of
the owners. The indications of the
general notion trade done by this ton-
sorial artists were much in evidence,
and were set out with a skill that
would have put an Oxford street win¬
dow dresser to the blush. “I don’t
quite like this,” said the owner. “This
is a ship, not a store,” and then jok¬
ingly added. “I think I shall have to
make a change.” “I wouldn’t do that
if I were you,” retorted the barber.
“I’ve been with you now fifteen years,
and if you dismiss me I’ll start an op¬
position line right away,”—Marina
Journal.
One on the Old Man.
“Do you know what my father
would have done if I had been caught
doing such a thing?” asked an irate
Memphis father of his little son.
The latter did not consider the situa¬
tion at all alarming, and said iu a
rather jocular manner:
“You must have had a pretty bad
daddy.”
This cool, sarcastic manner nettled
the old gentleman all the more, and in
his loss of temper he exclaimed:
“Well, sir, I want you to distinctly
understand that I had a better daddy
than you’ll ever see the day to have.”
—Memphis Scimitar.
OLDEN NEWS CARRIERS
HOW , SIXTEENTH CENTURY ENC-
LAND COT ITS INFORMATION.
Eefore Steam, Electricity amt Newspaper
Came, Peddlers and Carriers Were tlie
Chief Purveyors and Disseminators of
Sews—“Higglers’* Were Sewsino'igerg
It is not easy for people to get their
newspaper delivered with the regular¬
ity of clockwork, who can buy their
evening journals in almost as many
editions as a popular novel and who
are continually repeating the parrot
phrase that there is “nothing in the
papers,” or who. if they live far from
London, can get either a choice of
local papers or receive their favorite
London journals not many hours later
than dwellers in town—it is not easy
for such folks of to-day to realize how
slow, how" casual and haphazard were
the transmission and circulation of
news in the days before steam and
electricity revolutionized the world.
In the Sixteenth Century, when news¬
papers w r ere not and when pamphlets
dealt more with matters of controversy
than tvitb current events, the news of
what was happening in London and
that which had gradually reached the
capital from foreign countries, circu¬
lated through the rural districts of
England iu a very casual, slow fash¬
ion.
The chief purveyors and dissemina¬
tors of news were the peddlers aud
carriers. It is a mistake to suppose
that 300 years ago there was little or
irregular communication between the
capital aud country towns and vil¬
lages. The country was covered w r ith
a network of carriers’ routes. Their
carts and wagons—great lumbering
machined—-traveled with wliat would
be to us au appalling degree of slow¬
ness, but they went to and fro with
great regularity. The service might
be merely a weekly one in many places
or even monthly on not a few r routes,
but the carrier went his rounds with
very fair regularity and acted as the
universal newsmonger as well as the
occasional letter carrier aud the con¬
veyor of goods of every possible kind.
Au act. of Parliament of 1534 speaks
of “the poore eariers repairyiug weke-
ly and monthely to your citeo of Lon¬
don.”
An enterprising man, one John Tay¬
lor, compiled w'ith much difficulty aud
labor a kind of carriers’ directory
which was printed in 1G37. A copy
lies before the present writer. It
is entitled “The Carriers’ Cosomo-
graphy,” and the very long title page
goes on to promise a list of inns, etc.,
“where the carriers, waggoners, foot
posts and higglers” from all parts of
the kingdom were wont to put up, with
the days of their coming and going,
and much other information. There
were curious differences in the amount
of communication by carrier. Thus
those from Nantwich in Cheshire, Mr.
Taylor records, were to be found at
the Axe in Aldermanbury on Wednes¬
days, Thursdays, and Fridays; those
from Nuneaton, in Warwickshire,
came on Friday, but “the carrier for
Nottingham doth lodge at the cross
Keys in St. John’s street. He cometh
every second Saturday.” Similar dif¬
ferences existed in the service of other
provincial towns. But whether he
ivent once or twice or thrice a Aveek or
but once or twice a month the carrier
was the chief newsmonger of the day.
The “higglers” were men iu a smal¬
ler way of business than the regular
carriers. Taylor styles them “demi-
carriers.” The name is seldom heard
now, but the higgler of days gone by
was a man who owned a horse and
cart and sometimes carried goods iu
a small way from place to place, but
whose chief occupation Avas the buy¬
ing of poultry and dairy produce from
farmers and cottagers for carriage to
toAA'n and the selling to his customers
of small wares brought from the shops
in tOAvn. The carrier was puiweyor of
news to the towns and villages, while
the higgler was newsmonger in ordi¬
nary to the dwellers off the main
roads, to farmhouses and cottages.
De Foe in his “Account of the Plague”
of “higglers aud such people as went
to and from London with provisions”
says they were also called “hagglers,”
and often had no cart, but AA'ent on
horseback, a method of traveling
which Avas probably resorted to for
other reasons than poverty. At a
time when the main roads were often
in a most deplorable condition the by¬
roads and country lanes Avere always
Avorse, and a man going from farm to
farm and from liamlot to hamlet
could get about much more con¬
veniently aud rapidly on horseback
than when hampered with a cart.
These higglers on horseback carried
their goods iu panniers. Fuller, in
his “Worthies of England,” Avritten
about the time of the Commonwealth,
say*: “Dorsers are peds or panniers
carried on the backs of the horses, on
which haglers use tp ride and carry
their commodities.” An early name
for these most useful itinerant dealers
aud newsmongers, Avhicli Avas current
four and a half centuries ago, Avas
“cadger.” The present day offensive
meaning of the term is an example of
the degradation which so many once
reputable words and phrases have un¬
dergone in the course of time.
Lower in the scale of newsmongers
than cadgers or higglers were the wan¬
dering salesmen who traveled afoot,
Mr, Hardy, in “Tess of the d’Uber-
villes,” calls them foot higglers, but
they are better known by the familiar
term of peddlers, “They padded” or
“plodded the hoof,” in the old seven¬
teenth century phrase, from house to
house and cottage to cottage all oA'#r
the rural parts of the kingdom. Their
business was to sell, not to buy. They
§/old Spares all sorts of haberdashery, small
and household goods, resorting
to the toAvns as often as was neces-
ried sary to replenish their stock and car¬
with their pack the latest news
of what was stirring, not only in tha
neighboring parts of their district, but
the news of the greater world with¬
out. which, after slowly filtering down
front London to the small country
towns and villages, eventually reached
the most isolated farmhouses. 1 —Loudon
Globe.
PRIMITIVE MAIL.3ACS.
Mexican Runners Who Could lieep Up
With a Horse.
During the first few' years of my
stay iu Mexico, before we had built
roads, runners brought all my mail
and correspondence frequently from
the Cape, distant nearly two hundred
miles. They carried it in a handker¬
chief tied around their loins. They
were absolutely reliable. I never knew'
them to fail. Even after roltfe were
built and teams running regularly
upon them, the runners were frequent¬
ly employed. Once it was my good
fortune to overtake the most cele¬
brated of them. I was in a light bug¬
gy which I had had built especially to
enable me to make rapid journeys to
the capital, distant about forty-five
miles on the old road, I hail a no! do
span of horses seventeen and a half
hands, which the natives called “ios
elefantes.” It was a down-grade trav¬
eling north, the read in the foot-hills
excellent. On nearing the coast it. be¬
came sandy and heavy, l was driving
at a fine, easy gait, when 1 saw a man
some distance ahead throwing a ball,
apparently, which he would overtake
aud throw again and again. I quick¬
ened my pace, but the runner also
spurted, aud thus we traveled for
nearly an hour, when I overtook him.
I then discovered that lie threw the
ball with his foot, without pausing or
stooping. He was returning from the
delivery of a mail, and varied the
monotony of the journey in that man-
ner. He kept pace with me with ease,
and when we reached the heavier por¬
tions of the road passed me. I after¬
wards learned that the hall was of
wood, and that it is a favorite practice
of the runners.—Henry S. Brooks, in
“New” Lippincott.
WISE WORDS.
The end of a dissolute life is com-
monly a desperate death.—Bion.
The misfortunes that are hardest to
hear are those which never happen.—
J. It. Lowell.
We blame others for slight things
aud overlook greater iu ourselves.—
Thomas a Kempis.
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their
loss, but cheerily seek Iioav to redress
their harm.—Shakespeare.
There is a chill air surrounding those
who are down in the world, and peo¬
ple are glad to get away from them,
as from a cold room.—George Eliot.
Malevolence is misery ; it is the mind
of Satan, the great enemy, an outcast
from all joy, and the opponent of all
goodness and happiness.—J. Hamilton.
The morose man takes both narrow
and selfish views of life and the world;
he is either envious of the happiness
of others, or denies its existence.—C.
Simmons.
The modest man has everything to
gain, aud the arrogant man everything
to lose, for modesty has always to
deal with generosity and arrogance
with envy.—Rivarol.
There cannot live a more unhappy
creature than au ill-natured old man,
who is neither capable of receiving
pleasures, nor sensible of giving them
to others.—Sir W. Temple.
Electrical Printing Paper.
According to the Electrical RevieAV,
a successful process has recently been
devised in England, by means of
which a paper, produced electrically,
may be imprinted without employing
inks or any sensitizing matter, this
being combined with the paper in the
process of manufacture. The prepared
paper is stable aud colorless, and re¬
mains unaffected by any other agent
than the electrical current. Moreover,
it is stated, it can be produced as
cheaply as common paper. It yields
instantly a dense black permanent
print, which requires no subsequent
treatment, and is, in fact, ready for
immediate distribution, for there is
nothing like ink or smirching to re¬
quire drying. The machine for this
electrical printing is simply an ordin¬
ary press divested of its inking
mechanism, and having the paper¬
hearing surface covered with a suit¬
able conducting metal. The form is
connected with one pole of the cur¬
rent-supply, which may be an incan¬
descent-light wire, and the paper¬
bearing surface to the other. The pa¬
per thus becomes an inert conducting
medium, and the chemicals which are
combined in it become electrolyzed at
tlie points of contact, thus forming
the print. In appearance the electric
printing is said greatly to resemble
lithographic work.
A "Warrior’s Love of Children.
Earl Roberts’s love for little children
was illustrated during his recent in¬
spection of the cadet corps and school
children in the grounds of Government
House, Pietermaritzburg. At his lord¬
ship’s special request a whole holiday
Avas granted them, and Avhile passing
up and down their ranks with the
Superintendent of Education he no-
ticed one tiny mite with a hand cam¬
era in the background, vainly endeav¬
oring to get a “snap shot” of him.
Earl Roberts instantly stopped, asked
that she might be brought forward,
and gave her a “sitting,” or, rather,
standing, all to herself, to the un-
bounded delight of the small photo¬
grapher.
In Praise of Laughter.
The Rev. Dr. Spalding, of Syracuse,
said in a recent sermon: “God pity the
man who cannot laugh. If I could
have my way men w-ould go to a play
once a week and to a circus once a
month.”—New York Tribune.
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL,
Official statistics show an averagt
of 150,000 deaths per year from eon-
sumption for the last six years in
France.
Astronomers are discussing the the¬
ory that the moon is iu its glacial
epoch. One telescope expert calls the
“craters” ice cups, anti the streams
along their sides glacial weather. An¬
other insists that the signs of vol¬
canic action are unmistakable.
A report from St. Petersburg, Rus¬
sia. is to the effect that extensive and
valuable deposits of gold have been
discovered iu Turkestan, and that a
powerful financial syndicate lias asked
a concession for the purpose of ex¬
ploiting the field. Loading Russian
banks are said to be interested in rlu*
matter, and to have promised any
amount of money required for working
the deposits.
the commission consisting of Dr-.
Reed. Carroll and Agramonte, which
lias been investigating yellow fever
near Havana, Cuba, has arrived at two
important conclusions, first, that the
specific cause of the disease is un¬
known. and second, that it can bo
carried only by mosquitoes, Conse-
quently the disinfection ol' clothing
and houses is useless! It has been set¬
tled. furthermore, that yellow fever is
not due to dirt. It may occur in the
cleanest localities.
The newest application of photog¬
raphy is to cotton cloths. The disco c
erer of the possibility of printing di¬
rectly from the negative plate upon
the cloth is an amateur, and he lias
made highly effective cushions in this
way. The blue print is the best for
the purpose, and portraits, landscapes
or marim - appear in a rich tone that
is practically unfading, even when
washed. White bolting cloth and
butcher’s linen are good backgrounds
and satin, in white or delicate tints,
may be used.
All metals expand when heated, con¬
tract when cooling. If care is not ink
en to allow the air to escape from the
mold, this expansive foi;ce will hurst
the flask or blow the casting. This ex¬
pansion by heat and contraction by
cold applied to ail liquids excepa
water, which in freezing contracts un¬
til the mercury reaches thirty-nine and
one-half degrees, which is seven de¬
grees above freezing. Below thirty-
nine and one-half degrees it slowly
expands in proportion to the intensi¬
ty of the cold. It is this expansion
which causes pipes to burst, and it is
almost irresistible.
What is claimed to he a new com¬
mercial method of producing phos¬
phorous from phosphate rock employs
an ordinary type of electric furnace.
The heat is furnished for melting the
phosphate rock by means of a power¬
ful electric arc maintained between
two heavy carbon rods, each about
eight feet long and four inches in di¬
ameter. The combustion chamber is
about one by one and a half feet, made
of carbon, faced with calcined mag¬
nesia. Ilock is fed continuously to
the furnace by a conveyor. The phos¬
phorus is set free in the form of va¬
por, which passes off and is con¬
densed under water. The remaining
slag is subsequently drawn off.
The Dangerous Pacific Coast.
Coming down the Washington coast
one night on a merchant vessel, Cap¬
tain Richard Waterman in command,
I asked him why mariners were so
afraid of the Pacific Coast, and why
the disasters were so numerous and
terrible between Puget Sound and the
Golden Gate. This was in 1890, and
Waterman, who was out of the New
Bedford country originally, had been
a quiet navigator in Pacific waters
for twenty years. He and his ves-*
sel are now at the bottom of the sea.
sea. We had rounded Cape Flattery
and were steaming southward for the
entrance to the Columbia River and
the light at Point Adams. The cap¬
tain said: “The coast has never been
charted as it should be. We know a
little something through the Govern¬
ment of where the rocfks are and the
reefs and the shoal water and tins
bars, but we don’t know enough. Th*
coast, in my opinion, is either a
marine range or a range which
eventually coming up out of the watersl and?
and going to make more land,
another trip I find no rocks there and
plenty of deep water. Sometimes the?
Columbia bar is fair and sometimes
it’s a terror, and there you are. It is
the duty of the Government to keep
track of all these changes, and to chart
the entire coast, set it out with buoys
and warnings, and indicate the free
channels. That would stop hah of
the wrecks.”—Chicago Times-Herald*
"Verdi's Horror of Music Murder.
Verdi had a horror of barrel organs,
and when he went on his holidays he
had a method of suppressing the street
music which was rather unique. At
Moncaleri once a visitor found the
composer living, sleeping and eating in
one room. Seeing his surprise Yerd| argil
said: s “Oh, I have two other 1
rooms, but they contain a number ofl
articles I have hired.” And be openel som®
a door and showed the visitor
barrel organs to the number of ninety*
five. At a cost of 1500 lire the com* mal
poser had hired all the grinding peace!
chines in the place to insure a I
ful holiday,—Chicago Times-Herald.
HU Physicians Are Numerous. haJ I
No other sovereign in the world
so many physicians as the Czar. They
number twenty-seven, and are all se¬
lected from among the medical pliysiJ celeb¬
rities of Russia. There is first a
eian-in-chief; then come ten ehiropodiB honora*
surgeons, two oculists, a couH
and honorary chiropodist; two tl|
physicians and three specialists for
Czarina. ^