Newspaper Page Text
From “The Princess.”
When I am come to the House of the
Dead, .
Promise me this—tke Princess said:
Once a year when the land grows
- green,
And the pulse of the world beats
strong once more,
Come to the place of my frozen sleep,
Lift the latch of my silent door.
Carry me forth to the world I loved—
The bright warm world that I left
behind—
Give me the glimpse of the sun again,
The open sky and the touch of the
wind.
Take me back to the streets I knew,
The noige and the clamor, and the
gay unrest;
The laughter and cries and the broken
SONgs :
Of the old glad life I loved the best.
When ye come to a place that my
women knew,
Where the tall palms crowd in the
temple square,
And a rose vine swings like a pen
dant flame—
Let me rest for a moment there!
Carry me forth as befits my state,
Slave-girle and fluteplayers on be
fore;
Just one day in the happy world,
Then turn in peace from my silent
door.
When I am come to the House of the
Dead,
Promise me this—the Princess said.
—Arthur Ketchum, in the Atlantic.
Aiter the Storm.
The storm had lulled. The sea,
churned up the night before into a
geething, heavy caldron of pitch-black
waters, had subsided now into a rest
less, uneasy swell, rising and falling
like a woman’s bosom after a storm
of sobs. The wind, too, had fallen
light. At midnight it had come with
a sudden roar out of the north, bear
ing on its back a scud of sleet and
spray, and driving thelpless ships be
fore it on pitiless shores,
The fishing boats had been ouf all
night in the storm and stress, and
now they were straggling back into
harbor, plowing over the bar in the
wake of laboring steam tugs, or confi
dent in their knowledge of things nau
tical, making “their slow way in un
aided. Not a few bore marks of bat
tle, here a torn sail, there rent cord
age, or a spar snapped off, or a bit of
the bulwarks torn away. A little
crowd stood on the pierhead watching
them, townsfolk, keeply interested in
the sight all too familiar; fishermen,
calm, phlegmatic, silently critical;
strangers, verbose, excited.
Foremost of all was a group of wo
men, fish graters from the denes on
the other side of the river, where
their work was to clean herring all
day at long, low fish-filled troughs.
They could not work that morning,
however, anxiety gnawed tco cruelly
at their heartstrings, for their men
were at sea, and there was no know
ing whether they had come safe and
sound out of last night's hell of wind
driven rain squalls, of foam, and spray
and raging, turbulent waters. So,
leaving the troughs, the women tied
their shawls tight over their heads,
and, in their working dress of rough
serge, water boots and briny oilskin
aprons, came to the harbor’s mouth
to watch and wait and perhaps to
welcome home their men.
“That’s hard work a-waitin’,”” mur
mured one of them, a slight, delicate
looking girl, to her neighbor, who was
‘doing her best to shelter her from
the keen wind.
“Don't you worrit, gal Liz,” =said
the other consollngly; “the Valiant'll
be in afore you knows where ye are,
see if she ain't.
Liz shook her head and the tears
welled up into plaintive gray eyes. “I
wish I wor like you, Marthy,” she
gsald, “brace an’ heartsome; I allus
fare so timid when Jem’s at sea, an’
today I'm muss’n ever. Did ye hear
the wind in the night?” 3he went on,
her voice low and terrorful, “that
fared ter grip hold o’ the house an
worry it like a cat wi’ a mouse; I
right shook in my bed, I did, athinkin’
o’ Jem out in it, an’ a! last I couldn’t
stan’ it no longer. I just slipped out,
too, an walked up an’ down the beach
s 0 as to be a bit nigher to him. 1
wish there warn’t no sea,’ she said,
shivering, “ter part people an’ scare
them wot’s ashore.”
Marthy looked down at her tender
ly. “W’y, that wouldn’t do nohow,
Liz,” she said; “you an’ Jem wouldn’t
never ha’ come acrost each other if
there hadn’t ha’ be2n no sea, nor no
smackin’ nor nothin’.”
But Liz had knowledge of which
Marthy, with all her sympathy, knew
nothing. “W'’y, yés we should, Mar
‘hy,” she said quietly. ‘“Nothin’
couldn’t ha’ kept us two apart; we
was forced ter come together, we
was.”
Meanwhile the slow procession of
fishing boats straggled by, and the
crowd watched them. Presently a
steam tug neared the harbor’s mouth,
towing some half-frozen tawny-sailed
smacks, two abreast. The smacks
yawed this way and tnat, and the tug
looked like a mother with a troop of
overgrown daughters, a little inclined
to.get out of hand.
“Phe Perry ha’ got her work cut
out this time,” some one said.
The smacks came into full view
round the bend.
“Hallo, what's up wi’ that there
hindermost one, han’t she got her flag
half-mast?”
A score of eager, incredulous faces
craned and peered. It was true;
there hung the tell-tale flag, pregnant
signal of death and disaster. The
faces fell.
“Must ha’ lost a hand last night.”
A woman pressed forward to the
very edge of the pier, pale and agon
ized.
“What's wrong wi’ Liz?” cried some
one,. ‘
“Hold yer noise,” with an angry
nudge, “that there boat’s the Valiant
wot her man.Jem Wacey’'s aboard
on.”
Every heart went out to Liz in her
anxiety, every eye scanned the Va
liant's deck wnere the crew were
gathered, eager to recognize Jem.
An ominous silence fell. Two men
were missing—Jem and the smack’s
master. The rest of them stood there,
a dejected, crest-fallen little group.
A cry of agony broke from Liz’s
lips. “Where's Jem?” she cried. “I
don't see my Jem.”
Still that ominous silence. Liz
turned to Marthy with a desperate,
agonized gesture. The girl under
stood her at once. She took her
hand. The crowd pareed, and the two
ran down the pier along the riverside
to the ferry that led to denes and
fish wharf. Liz stumbled along,
scarce seeing where she went, her
breath coming in long, heart-breaking
sobs, '
Down the rickety landing stage
they went, into the old boat, and over
the steely, wind-blown river. The
wide, slow circuit of the boat necessi
tated by the swift-flowing tide, seem
ed never ending; so did the steep
steps on the other side of the river
and the road to the wharf where the
boats were moored.
The Perry had cast her little fleet
adrift now in mid-river, and one by
one they were joining the -serried
‘ranks at the quayhead. The Valiant
was there already—a c%aos of fish
iand men, and tarry barrels and ropes
and spars and shimmering, iridescent
fish scales. An eager crowd pressed
on board keen to learn the news of
‘the night and the boat’s loss. A few
steps more and Liz was among them,
fear eloquent in her wide eyes and
dry lips.
“Yes, the master’s gome” omne of
the crew was saying, sadly. “A thun
derin’ big wave took an’ washed Lim
overboard, and the same one hl}lled
pore Wacey ag’'in the mast, an"—"
Liz gripped the speaker’s arm.
“Killed!” she gasped, “Is my Jem
killed?”
The sound of her voice reached the
cabin below. Before the wait could
reply, there was a sound of stumbling
footsteps up the companion, and 2
man, pale and weak, his head ban
daged up in a gaudy cotton handker
chief, came into sight. He steadied
himself a moment, while his dazed
eyes scanned the deck. Then he held
out his arms, and with a long-pent-up
ery, Liz flew to them like a homing
bird.
Jem held her close, stroking her
hair and soothing her tenderly, while
he bade her, in a voice which was
rather shaky, in spite of the chaft,
“not to go a-killin® o’ him orf like
that there; he wasn’t dead, no, nor
likely to be.”
And the gallant crew of the Valiant
turned their broad backs on the two,
and winked the tears out of their hon
est eyes; but Marthy, woman-like,
found vent for her pent-up emotion
in, scathing speech. “To think,” cried
she, “that all this here might ha’
been spared if only you chaps had
had the sense to bring Jem up on
deck time you was a-coming into
harbor. But there, 'tis just like a lot
0’ men; no nfore perceivance among
yer than the ‘babe unborn!”—K. M.
Guthrie, in Black and White.
RAISIN GROWING iN AUSTRALIA.
A Small Industry That Promises to
Become a Large One.
One of the minor industries which
have taken strong root in Australia is
that of raisin and currant growing.
The leading settlement in this connec
tion is Th Northwestern Victoria, on
the Murray River, at Mildura, which
was founded in conjunction with Chaf
fey Bros.” irrigation colony schemes.
These colonies failed at first, but of
late years it has been found that the
vines which produce the raisin grape
and the currant grape grow splendidly
both at Mildura and at Renmark, a
little further along the Murray, in
South Australia; also in the Goul
burn Valley, of Victoria, grapes for
these purposes are grown successful
ly, though the quality is not quite so
good.
So great has been the development
of this industry that the local raisins
(with the exception of the Muscatel
variety), now have control of all the
Australiap. markets, and last year a
start was made to export the fruit. A
good quality of currants is yet import
ed, but the time is not far distant
when we shall produce all that we re
quire. The climate at Mildura is so
warm and dry and rainless, that the
operation of drying the fruit, which
is of the first importance, can gener
ally be accomplished without damage
through rain. Mildura also does a
good trade in dried figs and apricots,
as well as selling a lot of fresh fruit,
such as lemons and oranges. A rail
way connecting the settlement with
Melbourne has just been built, which
will greatly help the fresh fruit trade.
Previously all the fruit had to be sent
along the Murray River by boat, and
then undergo a long train journey.
One of the principal fruit growers at
Mildura is Earl Ranfurly, who owns a
large area, and who has always taken
a warm interest in the settlement.
No Use For It.
The Czar—Viskyvitch!
The Orderly—Your highness.
“Go and take down that sign in the
front parlor window.”
“Which sign, your highness?”
“Boy wanted!”—Cleveland Plain
A Chicago man is suing his financee
for damages for returning a fake en
gagement ring. He should have been
grateful for getting any kind of a
ring back.
IRIDIUM LAMP FILAMENTS.
A Resort to. Them in the Effort to
Find a Satisfactory Substitute
For Carbon. y
The objection to carbon fllaments—
disintegration, fusing with strong
currents, and therefore waste of en
ergy through the necessary employ
ment of weak ones—have led to many
attempts to construct a filament of
greater efficiency and durability.
In the infancy of incandescent
lighting experiments were made with
mietals of the platinum group. These
experiments have lately been resum
ed, the greatest hope of success be
ing placed on osmium. But osmium
is by no means unobjectionable. Like
carbon, it vaporizes at bright white
heat, and if air is present, as. in an
imperfectly exhausted bulb, it forms
hyperrosmic acid which, even in a
very small quantity, is exceeldingly
injurious to the lungs and the eyes.
Similar objections apply to ruthen
jum. Iridium is the only member of
the group which is neither vaporized
nor oxidized at white heat. Fused
iridium is free from osmium, ruthen
ium, and palladium, which are vapor
ized during fusion.
Edison has recommended filaments
of iridium wire—but the metal is ex
tremely brittle and cannot, according
to Guelcher, of. Charlottenburg, be
drawn into wire. - With carz it can be
rolled into strips 1-32 inch thick, but
it is impossible to make such a strip
of either circular or uniform cross
section.
Guelcher has, however, succeeded
in producing round and uniform iri
dium filaments by mixing fine iridium
powder with vegetable glue, forcing
the paste through a perforated plate
by hydraulic pressure, drying the fila
ments and heating them to whiteness
in an oxy-hydrogen flame. The fila
ments thus produced have a bright
metallic lustre, and though very hard
are flexible enough to be used in elec
tric bulbs. They are said to be very
durable and economical of power.
Instead of the chemically-pure
metal, iridium powder as preclpitated
from solutions may be used. As this
contains some oxide, the filaments,
before being heated, must be exposed
to the action of a stream of hydro
gen,
Without this precaution they would
explode on being heated. It should
be noted that the heating must be
done in an exposed flame, not in a
covered crucible or a bed of charcoal,
as the object i§ to effect complete
combustion of the adhesive and leave
nothing but pure iridium.—From the
German in Umschau.
The Name of “Lady.”
The name of “lady” has so long
been “soiled by all ignoble use” that
it has become to all intents and pur
poses exactly synonymous with that
of woman. It is not odd, therefore,
that in a case héard in a local court
last week, the attorneys referred to
their clients, women from the gity’s
least savory quarter, as “this lady”
and “that lady.,” The Judge, how
ever, objected to this application of
the name, and requested the lawyers
to use some other designation. Rare
instances such as this indicate that
the word retains for some a little of
its old time fragranee, but nothing
can now arrest its ultimate degrada
tion. Some noble words are abased,
and some mean words are exalted,
and no lone efforts can prevail against
the current of popular usage, a cur
rent that takes some strange twists
at times. For instance, a few days
ago in a local restaurant which has
one side set apart for women, and em
ploys a waitress to attend to their
wants, one of the waiters was told a
patron on that side was not being
waited upon. “I'm not going to wait
on her,” he replied, “tney keep a lady
to wait on the women.”—Portland Or-
According to the new census Spain
has 11,000,000 illiterates — not to
speak of scholars who yet cannot
read the signs of the times, states the
New York World.