Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 3, Decatur, Adams County, 1 November 1894 — Page 7

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CHAPTER 11-Continued. In vain; the stranger only laughed the more. ••Come, I meant no harm,” he said pleasantly. "May 1 not even touch this rod? Such a clipper as it is, too! I’ll do it no harm. I am used to rods.” stretching out his hand as the coveted possession was erked in another direction. "Oh, 1 see how it is,” continued he, "you have 'no English,’ and I. unfortunately, have 'noGaelic,’ sowhat s to be done? (She’s furious, the pretty vixen,” aside, "I must appease her or we shall come to Blows next.) Hey. young woman hey, I say. Oh. so you have found your tongue at last, have you? What is it? 1 i sn't for the life of me hear a mutter like that, you must speak louder, you know. Louder, miss, louder.” nodding at her. "Oh. she is not addressing mo at all; too deeply offended I suppose: and it is onlv to the other wild man of the woods that she will condescend to ” but the speaker's own voice died away, his lips fell apart, and the smile fadded from his cheek, as he caught at last one distinct, i nmistakable sentence, and that delivered in accents which, in spite ot their childish treble, had a ring of command as well as the refinement of modulation. "Donald, tell this gentleman from me, that this is my burn, and that , I give him no leave to fish in it, and that I desire him to go away at once.” If ever tables were turned in the twinklingof an eye, they were now upon that gallant young life-guardsman, Capt. I rederick Augustus Bellenden. the great man of his family, and great match of his county, and the last person in the world io have been made a fool of by his own blunder. There was no m staking the seriousness ol the situation. The raged imp, to whom the order for Bellenden s summary ejection was entrusted, turned straight upon himself, and in his own tashion confirmed it forthwith. “The leddy says it will not be here : you will tish. nor this burn you will fish to-day. The leddy says it is you who will go where yo i come from.and leave this place.' and in further demonstration of the validity of his authority, the sturdy shred ol a clansman pointed with hL linger up the l ank, whence he divined the intrusion had been made. “Good heavens'.” ejaculated the ama/ed Helienden. “Ech?” shrieked Donald again, drawing closer io him. and still fixidly pointing up the bank. “Ech? Is it the way you wo Id know' -1 There is no other w ay but that " "But 1 I wantto fish here.” “The leddy says--” "Surely the lady” and he glanced still doubtfully round -“surely the lady will permit me to fish—” "I will do nothing of the kind!” said Jerry, with a stamp. The next instant she was sliding aliout on the face of the wet and slippery toek, not altogether free from the danger of slippingo, er either: and "Good heavens.' againeja ulated Bellenden. for he was now alarmed on a new count. The next instant he had thrown aside his own rod. clasped the swaying form in his arms, seized a birchen branch with one hand, and ■was swinging himself and his burden by it to a place of safety. At the moment off came the "sou wester,” and a glorious profusion of shining hair half hid the crimson brow and cheek beneath it. “A lovely girl." thought the stranger at once: "and what a blessed fool 1 ha\ e made of myself!” Aloud he merely remarked: "Fray, young lady, as long as you live, remember to beware ot standing so near the edge of a slippery rock, especially if you are engaged in an absorbing occupation. Epon my word, I thought you were down just now,” taking off his cap and brushing his hand across his lorehead, ‘'lt was horrid. Igh 1 can't think of it." “I had Donald,” said Miss Campbell, but in rather an altered voice, for she, too, had been frightened, and aid not feel quite as she had done towards this stranger a few minutes before. “That child,” said Bellenden contemptuously. “He can take care of himself, I uoult not,” for Donald was. at the moment, stepping from ledge to ledge of the giddy points as daintily and safely as a mountain cat might, ‘■but what could a little bit of a creature like that <io to save you. if you hud another trip like this? Do. pray, be warned. You you are very young yourself. Do your parents know you come to a plaie like this. ' “I have no parents.” Her bosom heaved. Forgive me,” said he. very respectfully: "but you must have some one — some guar ian- -” “I hpve my grandmother.” “Anu you live with her 9 ” “She lives with me.” quoth the heiress of Inchmarew. “Oh—h!” l-.verv instant brought a new revelation, lie grew more and more grave and courteous. “And this lady who takes care of vou — your grandmamma, does she know this place? Has she ever been with yo i here. - ” But this was to much for Jerry. It was too funny. She really could not help herself: she must laugh if she died for it. <>rauuy at the nigh pool: Granny, w o had never been near the burnside in her life, who knew as much of her ools as she did of the | Falls of Niagara, and of her birchen ■ bank as of the precipices of the Andes! She gave way once for all now. and a laugh so sweet, sc jubilant, so frank and childish rang out in the ears of the once again astonished Bellenden, that be telt as it bewitched by a creature only half mortal. V, hat was she up to now?

"Oh. you are so funny! Oh, if you °**l y knew how funny vou are,” cried I ~ch*l aughing tier high, clear, bell-like laugh again and again, “to • granny comes here' Granny! Oh, dear! oh. dear. And if she knows this place! Oh, dear! oh. dear!” and she shook her curly head with eyes that brimmed over, as if the mirth of I such a suggestion could never have an end. ' Well, I—l suppose f must be funny I since you say I am.” responded the j stranger soberly, "though upon iqy word I did not know it. Young ladies of your age,” mentally appraising her at 12, for her face was singularly young, though she was tall enough, "young ladies of your age do not generally go at>out alone, or with only mountain gillies. and I should say that if your grandmamma knew what a dangerous place this is —” "The real danger was what you did yourself,” retorted Jerry, with a sudden pout. "When you startled melike that I might have lallen off very easily!” “Jou might, and I can only say I had not realized the slippery state of the roi ks—but anyway I ought not to have done it. But now.” be added with a smile, “can you forgive and be I friendly? See, I most humbly sue for pardon. lam a total stranger here: I know nobody: and being stranded for the night at the inn down there, was ’ told by the good woman who keeps it. that I might bring her in a dish of trout from this burn, and she especially mentioned this pool within the grounds : of Inchmarew Castle.” ' She did?” cried Jerry, her eyes glaring. ‘T expect she never thought of anyone else being out on such a day.” “She had no business to think about it. She knows that this is my burn, and that I keep it for myself, and my friends.” “Oh,” said the young man. and the truth burst ui on him. "Then you are i Miss Campbell of Inchmarew,” he said. CHAPTER 111. ‘BY JOVE! WHAT A NICE CHILD!’ ‘But I phall be past making love, When she begin* to comprehend it.’ After this admission it seemed all at once as if the clouds rolled away, the sun shone out, and all was right. A few sentences did the rest. It seemed but a minute ere he had offered a respectful hand down the bank -very : different to the grasp which had conveyed her up it and the two were l chatting away as long as they could be heard, and nodding, directing, and approving, as the case might be, when too near the fall for speech—and the sport began afresh. After a sue. essful hour or so. Geraldine next proposed a move further up. the presence of the new-comer I eing accepted by Donald with the stolidity common to his kind, and the three all now upon the best of terms. After the ne t hunting-ground had been abandoned. “Where next?” cried Bellenden tpiily, "where next?” "I am afraid we have no other really good place,” replied his young hostess, almost apologetically, for she was now | as anxious to do the honors as she had I rst been to avoid them. “I hardly .uink we shall get many more to-day, but if you would like to come again to- j morrow ” she a ded. shyly, for it was a great event to her to give an invitation of the kind, and she could get no further. "To-morrow lam afraid 1 shall be many miles away and I shall be shooting instead of fishing.” “Oh.” said Jerry. ‘'That’s a pity,” she added simply. ‘‘l am on my way to Kincraig,” continued the speaker, not unwilling to volunteer a little information in the hope of getting some in return, for things he had heard before had been rapidly coming back to him during the silent sport o the past hour or two.and it was, on the whole, ratherinteresting to have Lad an adventure with this odd little witch of an heiress, who. report said, possessed, or would possess ono day, the best estate and grandest moor in the country. A part of this very moor was, he knew, at present rented by the very friend with whom he was going to shoot on the following day, and a< cordingly, "I am on my way to Kincraig,” he began; but Jerry interrupted eagerly, and with the pleasurable excitement of one in whose life coincidents and events were rare. "Kincraig!’ she cried. “Are you going to stay wish Archie Kincraig?” •‘No: my friend's name is Campbell. He is Archie, however,” said Bellenden. “Oh. Campbell, of course: but we call him Archie Kincraig, because we are all Camnbells here. I should have been called Inchmarew if I had been a man: as it is, I am ‘Jerry Inchmarew,’ because, you see, I am the head of the house” —and again she drew up her young proud figure, and again, alas: the ill-nisposed yellow oilskin coat hid the grace of the unconscious movement. “ Your name is Campbell, I know,” said Bellenden. amusel. “1 was told a great deal about Miss Campbell on the boat, as we passed Inchmarew Castle, but I d.d not hear ‘Jerry Inch-marc-w.” “That is only by my friends, you know, not by my people.” "If it had, J might have been a little quicker in guessing who ‘Jerry Inchmarew’ was.” She laughed. Her wrath had completely gone by I ‘ ‘And so you have let your shooting?” continued Bellenden. “Only a part of it. Not the best part neither. That is kept for my cousin Cecil. ” “Oh!” “Mv cousin, Cecil Raymond. He comes to us every 12th of August, and we expect him this evening. There! I believe that is his boat coming in now,” eyeing a long, thin streak of blue smoke discernable over a headland in the loch below. “We shall see her directly it it is. Yes, there she comes, rounding the point- now,” said Jerry excitedly: "look! do you see her? She comes in to our own terry pier next." “I see her.” “I wonder if Cecil is in her,” murmured the little giri to herself, with what seemed to her co .panion something o a Tender interest. “I snow some Raymonds,” he observed. "I w onder if this can be one of them Lord Raymond's family?”

•'Why, of course And Cecil Is ths eldest son.” cried Jerry, with renewed excitement. “Why. how very, very odd! And you know mv Aunt Charlotte - I .adv Raymond and -and Ethel, and Alicia, and all of them? Oh dear, I how strange it seetns!” Bellenden laughed. It was not quite so strange in his eves, i man of the world, who went everywhere, and made new acquaintances every day; but he was amused and pleased with the impression the wonderful discovery made upon his little friend. “Oh, yes, I know them all at least, I suppose I do.” he said, “I do not know them very intimately, mind: you must not put me through mv facings too severely, but I have certain'y met both Lord and Lady Raymond—” "And Ethel, and Alicia.'” “Not that I remember. Ido not remember any Miss Raymon'is,” "Oh, but they are hardly Miss Ravmonds yet. Ethel is only a year older than 1 am. and Alicia is just my age. But Cecil is grown up—he is nearly 20.” "Twenty? Yes, the Raymond I know must be about 20. At Oxford?” “Ves yes. At Oxford.” “I stayed with him at a [house this year. I remember him perfectly. Tali, and fair- and—” "Y es. that is Cecil—why, it is Cecil, of course. Oh, you must come down and see him. Come along, quick, and we’ll meet the boat. If we run qown straight from here, we can easily head her. and get to the pier th st. Do come; Cecil will li,co us to meet him.” "Like this?” suggested Bellenden. looking first at her and then at himself, though, truth to tell, it was of her appearance only he had nis doubts. ’ lor himself, he was all right, roughly I ut suitably and becomingly cla i, out ; Jerry was -such a Jerry! And he knew well that young Oxonians were sensitive on such points, and not. likely | to appreciate being hailed, even on a Highland pier, by Highland cousins wrapped in oilskins and topped by sou’westers. "To be sure. I had forgotten.” owned the little lady herself, coloring slightily under the imputation. “1 do look rather queer, don't I? And Cecil is most frightfully, dreadfully particular. I should catch it from granny ever so much if he were too seo me.” "But you don't mind my seeing you?” “Oh, no at least. I mean I never thought about it. Granny would have minded, I daresay: but then you will not see granny, unless”- and again the round young cheek was suffused by a blush —"unless you will come home with me, and —” Now this was the very proposal Bollenden was longing to have made him. "I should like to see the Raymonds again,” he said thoughtfully. Perhaps he really thought at the moment that he should like it. Perhaps it was only the remembrance of the close, stuffy, whisky-reeking little inn at the ferry, which made a chance j of escaping from it so seductive; but at J any rate the unfortunate traveler felt that for life or death bis only hope was to hang on to Cecil Raymond now, and that never in his life before ha I an acquaintanceship turned up such trumm. L ntil within a few moments he had been forced to contemplate passing a luckless night in a damp, rough bed, amiathe coarsest surroundings, with heavy mists obliterating all the beauties of the landscape without, and with no companionship, save his own ; thoughts, within. He had been posiI tively assured that there was no possii bility of reaching his friend’s shooting lo ge until the following morning; that I the boat on which he had depended for ! proceeding up the loch did not go beyond the ferry on that especial evening of the week: and that the best, indeed the only thing to be done was for him to take up his quarters at Dame Maconochie's little public bouse, and inhabit her one spare room. It had been a sorry look-out: but it had been mitigated by the dame's suggestion that he should take her son s rod. and bring her in some trout from the Inchmarew burn, not a mile off. which burn she assured him would be in fine trim after the rain, and was noted for its trout.

The worthy woman had not added that the fishing in its best part was jealously guarded for the benefit of the young mistress of the place, and that anyone caught trespassing within the Inchmarew grounds in pursuit of sport would be in an awkward predicament. She had trusted to the gentleman’s not being caught. The odds were that he would not be so; the day being so exceedingly bad, and the stream having been so greatly augmented by the recent rains, she concluded that the little miss would hardly be allowed out, and that, at any rate, if the worst came to the worst, the stranger would sav nothing about her. She did not think ho would even know her name. [to be continued. A New-Fangled Swiss Watch. A curious application of the phonograph to watches has been made recently by a watchmaker at Geneva, Switzerland in whose repeating watches the bell is replaced by a circular disc of vulcanized rubber less than two inches in diameter, upon whi h phonographic lines corresponding to a certain series of spoken words are spirally engraved. The passage of a vibrating point over these lines causes the watch literally to tell the hours, and even, when desired, to sound an a arm and awaken the sleeper. It has been demonstrated that the point may pass manythousand times over the lines on the disc without wearing tnem away appreciably. When the watch speaks the hours its voice is clear and distinct twenty feet away with a closed dcor between. Evidently a Star Himself. Professor D.. a well known and very talented man connected with onejof our best universities, has a little son who has an exalted opinion of his father’s ability. One evening a friend was showing the little fellow the stars, and said to him. — “Johnnie, do you know who made the stars?” The little boy thought a moment, then said earnestly,— “No; I am not sure, but I think John D (his father) did. That man is smart enough to do anything.” No max is competent to nick out a woman’s dress. a woman cannot do it satisfactorily herself. I Interest and the devil never sleep.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY. TOPICS OF INTEREST TO FARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. Arran(ement by W hicb Kerosene and Mater Can Be Mechanically Mixed in the Spray Pump—A Convenient Pig S. — New fire Lighter- f arm Notes. Sprav-Pump Attachment. A kerosene attachment for knapsack pumps which differs in some respects ftoin other attachments of a similar nature is described by Prof. W. E. Weed of the Mississippi Station as follows The kerosene is placed in a separate tank, whi h is attached to the back of the main tank by means of two clips at the side near the top and holds one and one-quarter gallons. A quarter-inch hose attached by a collar connects the kerosene tank with a brass pipe joining to the cylinder of the pump just beiow the lower of the two small balls whicn serve as valves. A stop- ■ J SPRAY-PUMP ATTACHMENT, cock is provided, as shown In Fig. 1, so that the kerosene, or a portion of it, can be shut off at any time. The attachment is shown in more detail in Fig. 2, and but little is needed byway of further explanation. A pipe for the pas-age of the water is provided, at right angles to the pipe through which the kerosene passes, and this is al o provided with a stopcock with an elongated handle extending through the top of the main tank, so that the water may be shut off if desired The mechanical mixture of kerosene with water is designed to do away with the necessity of making a kerosene emulsion. Such being the case, if by the mechanical A VIEW OF INTERIOR.

mixture of kerosene and water we can ac omplish the same results obtained by iiiii emulsion, we have greatly simplified the matter, so that it will be used as an insecticide much i more extensively. Preserving Eggs In the experiments in keeping eggs made at one of the New Y'ork experiment stations, the eggs were all wiped when fresh with a rag saturated with some antiseptic and packed tightly in salt bran, etc. Eggs pac ed during April and May : with salt, and which had been wiped with cottonseed oil, to which had been added boraic acid, kept from ft>ur or live months with a loss of nearly one-third, the quality of those saved not being good. Eggs packed in bran, after the same preliminary handling, were all spoiled after four months. Eggs packed in salt during March and April, after wiping with va-eline, to which salicylic acid had been added, kept four or five months without loss, the quality after four months being much superior to the ordinary. Temperature of each box varying little from 60 degrees, Fahr. New Fire Lighter. Here is a valuable little kitchen implement which has just made its appearance in England. It is for quickly lighting the fire without the aid pt any kindling. It is formed of A FIRE LIGHTER. a strong iron casting, in the box-like end ot' which is embedded a composition that greatly resembles asbestos in its properties. This composition is fastened down by a wire mesh, and when being used is soaked with paraffine, and set in the grate. It is then lighted and coals heaped on in the ordinary way, and as soon as the tire is well alight is removed. A Point in Fattening Hogs. Prof. Sanborn, a highly successful practical farmer as well as an agricultural professor and experimenter, made over 160 actual feeding tests with hogs of various weights, using various foods and employing about 400 hogs. He found on the average a certain amount of food was required to make a pound of gain on pigs weighing 45 pounds, 3.3 percent, more food was re Hired to make the same gain on pigs weighing 70 pounds, 14 per ceht. more on pigs weighing I2u pounds; I'.) per cent, more on pigs weighing 175 pounds, and so on up until 71 per cent, more

feed was required on bogs weighing 32. i pounds. So it appears a hog fed at a fair profit unt 1 it reaches _OO pounds would be fed at a loss shortly after it had pa-sed that weight. A Pi t Sty. The accompanying cut shows the best arranged sty 1 have seen, says a correspondent of the Ohio Farmer. The material used is oak It is divided into thn e compartments each saving sliding doors opening into the V-' L_ ‘ ST " “7 CONVENIENT PIG STY. exercise yard at the rear. A rain trough is placed the whole length ot sty, thus lendering the yard freer from moisture. The yard should be kept clean and dry, and may be covered by a roof. The feeding should all be done in the yard, and the sty used for sleeping. A feed trough is placed in the yard also. A drop door hinged at b b is provided, to admit light and air in case it is necessary to clo-e the doors in the rear, and is held in place by the button. XVhat Teets. It has been observed for a number of years in the Ohio and Indiana wheat tests that the velvet chaff (Penquito’s) has proved more reliable than most any other sorts on black soils. In a recent trial at the Illinois station a single plot of this variety yielded at the rate of fortyfive bushels per acre, and this yield was exceeded by only three sorts— Geneva giving 4§ bushels, valley 46 bushels and crate 45J bushels. The following varieties gave actual yields exceeding forty bushels per acre. Golden Cross (synonym of DiebL -Yeditterrancan , mealy, Toole, Oregon. valley, yellow, Gypsey, pickaway, witter, nigger. New Michigan amber. American bronze, rack velvet (synonym of velvet chaff) crate, Missouri blue stem, silver chaff, DiehlMediterranean, Tasmanion, red golden prolific, Lebanon, royal Australinn (synonym of Clawson). cn the fertile limestone soil of the Pennsylvania Station the velvet chaff gave a comparatively poor yield, the best varieties proving to be the reliable, Ontario Wonder, rudy Canada, Wonder and Fulcaster. In a comparison of the average yield for five years the most productive varieties at the Pennsylvania Station were found to be the reliable, valley. Fulcaster, Ontario Wonder, Deitz longberry red, Wyandotte red and Currell’s prolific, in the order named, Straw Not Good for Horses. Cows need a much more nutritious ration to give good milk and in paying quantities than it is possible for them to consume when straw constitutes any part of it. A variety of sci d is good tor nearly all stock, and when cows have clover hay, cornstalks and grain or silage, they will still eat a little straw if given it, tasting it apparently as a change of food. We have seen cows do this when well fed otherwise; but in every case the result will be a lessened milk yield. We know dairy men who aie caretui not to let cows get a chance to eat straw bedding, which they will often do if allowed. This ob ection to allowing cows to eat straw is important just now, when the thoughts of farmers are turned towards any possible economy in winter feeding,—American Culti- , vator.

Winter Dairying. Most farmers who have tried winter dairying tind that they can get more money either from selling milk or butter from cows that calve in September or October than from those that calve in spring. She summer prices of all dairy products are much lower than they are in winter. Milk must be freshly produced every day. It is equally true of butter that what is well made in winter brings better prices than what is kept over from summer. It is not a difficult mati ter with ensilage and grain feeding I to make yellow butter in winter as good in quality as that made from cows at pasture. The white, poor butter made in winter comes from feeding the cow on hay mixed with weeds, which injure its flavor. Wheat in India. The official final forecast of the Indian wheat ■ rop in northwest provinces. Bombay, Bengal, and Berar, representing about one-half ot the wheat area in India, indicate-- an increased acreage, but a decrease in results of about $300,000 tons. Returns from Punjab, Central Provinces. Sind, Rajputana, etc., must be received before a definite estimate can be formed of this year’s crop Shippers declare themselves unable to obtain wheal for export at current rates, but they are hopeful that prices will soon rise to a shipping limit. Value of Feed. Every farmer should make it : point to save every bit of feed possible. It will all be needed this year. The drought in the West has cut short hay. oats, and corn over a vast | extent ot' country, and lack of pasture has compelled feeding what should be laid by for winter. The lack of feed will cause an early rush of poor,half-fatted and inferior stock to market Those who have the feed will do well to keep their stock till this rush is over. Good, well-fed stock ought io bring remunerative prices later c i.

AN OVERLAND ROUTE. FROM PARIS TO NEW YORK BY RAIL. A Railway Across Siberia, and a Tunnel Under Behring Sea--A Colossal Undertaking. “From New York to Paris by overland route; no change of cars necessary.” Jit sounds absurd, but certain operations are in actual progress which brings such an ahievement just within the range of future possibilities The main factors towards this result are the Siberian Railway and a tunnel under the Behring Straight. The one is in steady progress of construction ; the other has only been talked about. The Tiumen-Omsk section of the Siberian Railway, which has just been openedjjfor passenger traffic, formed the first instalment of this colossal work which is to dwarf all the longest continental lines of the world. It is to be 6,700 miles in length, and as yet only 800 miles are in actual use. From Omsk, which is in the extreme west of Siberia, it is to extend in an eastward direction to Crasnoiarski, a distance of nearly one thousand miles. The embankments and cuts forming this division are already made, and work is already being actively conducted towards completion. From this point the road will follow a more southerly course to Irkutsk, go along the southern shore of Lake Baikal and through the valley of the Seeluig River, cross the valleys of the Lena and the Amur to Lake Colan, where excellent coal has been found. Thence it runs eastward to the steamboat station of Szejetinsk, on the Amur River, and follows the course of that stream south-eastward to Khabaroffka. There it will turn southward along the right bank of the Ussuri, run to Graffsky, and terminate at Vialivostock, on the Sea of Japan. From this port operations have been commenced in a northwesterly direction for some two hundred miles, and the road is actually’ running to Grapska. Thus it will be seen that about one thousand miles, or nearly one-sixth of the entire distance, is virtually accomplished. But innumerable and almost insurmountable difficulties surround the bridging ot the gap between these two extremities. Siberia is a big country. It is twice as large as the whole of the United States. Nine-tenths of its territory has never been explored. The route of the railroad is near the fifty-fifth parallel, that is, as far north as Southern Alaska, and consequently the climate is very cold. The difficulty of procuring and transporting men and material is considerable. The iron will come largely from the Ural Mountains, near the western terminus of the road. One of the greatest difficulties encountered so far is the lack of building stone. In some places it has to be brought more than three hundred miles, and where the rivers do not serve the cost of carriage is enormous. Ballast is also very scarce on the western part of the line. The natives, at best not very numerous, will not go far from home to work; and the climate is such that operations are confined to a period between the middle of May and the end of September. Deducting the numerous Russian holidays and the rainy days, this leaves about one hundred days available for pushing on progress each year. Rails are shipped from England through the Arctic to the mouth of the Yenisi, a somewhat venturesome undertaking, and from there they are carried up the river by two steamboats, one drawing eight feet of water, and the other, for service on the Augura, which drains Lake Baikal, having a draught of only three feel six inches. These vessels are fitted as for an Arctic expedition. On the eastern portion of the line the labor of convict exiles is being employed to a considerable extent, and 25,000 of these are said to be now at work upon the railway. The Russian engineers estimate that the cost of the line will vary from $30,000 to $67,000 a mile, according to the difficulties to be overcome, but the entire sum cannot be less than $300,000,000. This enormous expense will be entirely defrayed by the imperial treasury. It is not supposed that the road will pay for a great number of years, but the Czar is fully aware of its strategical value. It will enable him to command the northern boundaries of his political neighbors with a very much smaller military force than is required to-day. When this railway is completed, and official surmises lix the year I'JOl for its opening, a journey about eight thousand miles long can be made from Paris to the Pacific at Vladivostock. It will probably require about three weeks of continuous travel to make it. The Behring Strait is only a few miles wide at its narrowest point, and the possibilities of a tunnel are now being seriously discussed. Our ocean greyhounds may cub down their records and annihilate time as much as they will, they cannot stamp out seasickness. There seems lo be a bare possibility’ that the opening of the twentieth century may see timid old ladies, to whom time is ol no consequence, raking their annual trip to Europe over nearly fifteen thousand miles of ground instead of braving one-fifth that distance at sea. —[New York World. There are about 1,500 theatres in Europe. Italy’ possesses most. Cocoa and chocolate are large y mixed with starch and sugar.