Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 16, Decatur, Adams County, 31 January 1895 — Page 7

1 r - L.. -VC” 4 ' CHAPTER XU—Continued. Bellenden was now, she told herself, less than nothing to her. She could meet him on the roost perfectly easy and & ua' fo< t ng, and so far from tieing dazzled by his perfections, and panting for his notice, she could now coolly re.oice in any opportunity which ottered for dis oicerting and perplexing her childish hero. She had hardly hoped to have met with one at her aunt’s. It had been a surprise to her when he had walked in. and a still gro ter one when he nad offered her his arm. Oh, what that offer would once have meant! Now, she had risen, as self-possessed I as any woman there, and had rippled I forward across the room, and down the | broad stair ase. looking her prettiest, [ and smiling her gavest, and laughing I within herself at the merry time she I meant to have of it. For she could see that he was grave I and rat her anxious. That meant that I ho would be sure to stumble on to I dangero s ground presently, and then I —and then she would lead him gaily I on. wily, witching Will-o'-the-w sptnat I ah< was! untd she had got him fast in I to a quagmire, hopelessly fast anil I bound, when she would mock him to 1 I his face, leafing nothing but darkness I I behind | Sue niuiu uiue uer liulo, she would . I not tiurry anyboiy. ■ Verv de.uurely passed the first ■ courses. ■ Miss Campbell was engaged with her ■ soup, her Ush, the pretty flowers on ■ the table, the heat ot the evening, : ■ the forthco ning reception at the for-I ■eign etnbas y, the concert she had ■been to in the aft moon. I. Sir Frederick was quietly listening. Hand when no essa y resounding. So ■far he had not afforded any sport ■ Nor did he by any means seek to cn■gross her. as she had s imehow fancied would liaiv dune; on the contrary, allowed lo g intervals to elapse ■v.ihoiit speaking at al. and when ■t liese were si eu upon and made use of Geraldine’s garrulous neighbor on lie other side, she was i revoked to .sir. • I how Indi erent lie s .-moi to be t > ■-ta-dng up tint r-'ins again. But one thing he neg lotted utterly, I this, of which he hi > self seemed unconscious, was taken not ?by her at once he entirely omitt- the necessary civilties towards the li. yon his otaer hau :. If addre sed b her, he would rouse himself with a Bl rt. as tho gh unaware of the preset eof any one so nea . and when he h I replied to er overture, he would dr p the sub ecL At length she gave Ot r taking notice of him, und Geral- £■: ’’ “ark d this also. ■"< wonder, I very much wonder what h< is thinking ab mt.-'” quote the little t «sa to herself a’ 1;>:. ■Now perhaps Bellenden hardly knew hi iself. ■Almost from the first moment, from hi first sight of her on her presentati> i day he had been conscious of a nr v feeling about this lovely girl. T ere had been a burst of recollection, Os tenderness, an I of resolve. ■He would renew the old friendship, take up for tho past, and make his Wi v in the future. ■Then he bad been thrown back on th' very threshold of the pretty castle in the air, and had found himself shut ou from entering at every point. Had Bho lieen one whit less 1 eautiful, less ch. irming, less tantalizing, he would ha returned his back and been off. shagging his shoulders but Geraldine ha placed, an l was still playing her part too well. She was never quite cold enough to dri. e him from her. She never was gentler th in when she was loveliest, and most sought after. I And. at times, now and again it had so happened that when with velvet hand ■■ she had delt the little stab, the wound whjch had been meant to rankle and fester presently, and had seen him turn from h r t bite his lip. and flu-h with mingled shame and vexation, her heart had so smote her for the light. ,cruel jest, that she had sought him out. and set to work to undo w hat had been done so humbly and wistfully that forahe moment he had almost been liapyy enough to believe anything. Wor he was now in love with Geraldine. and knew it. ■•• It. is because I know that she is ss good and true as she is beautiful.” lie would sigh with regret all unavailing. •The woman whom I mar. y must be unspoiled by all the folly and heartlesaness of this miserable world of • fashion. What is it to a man that his wife knows how to dress, and dine, and parade herself from house to house, if ►he cares nothing for him. nor her home and children and tho things t ■ at good women love? Who wants a fashion plate for hi- daily companion and the mother of his little ones? I am sick cf seeing girl alter girl brought I simpering out, and instructed how to dance, and chatter, and show o i her points, and trot out her accomplishments. One is exactly like another. They all dote on country life, on gardening. and riding and old women s cottages, and tiie next moment it slins out that there in a dreadful fright lest papa should hurry them home before the season is quite over, and that they thought it so cruel of him to stop dow'n in the shires so long at Faster and Whitsuntide. Not one but would exchange a country home with glee for Homburg, or Monte Carlo, or Brighton, or Scarborough. But I knew once a girl different to that, ’ Bellenden would say. with animation, when with some intimate on whom such revilings had been vented. "1 1 knew one child sho is a woman now —who. if she be not utterly changed, would make any man. any home happy. ’ Pshaw! She is not f r me. I should have but a poor chance, even if I * meant to go in for one, I tell you. And

I don’t mean it. But the man who wins her ’’and the speaker wo.du here break off abruptly, and his auditor wou d know what to thing with tolerable accuracy. lie would tell the next person he met that Bellend' n was hit at last and that the poor fellow was very far gone, but would give no hint in what direction. Had the speaker been present at Lady Raymond’s Thursday dinnerparty he wouid not have needed much ol a hint. Bellcnden’s silence, his abstraction, the i uick glam es he cast round from time to time i. his lair partner lo ked towards him or moved towards him. t he lingering ga e which stiil hung upon her lips after she had Ceased to speak all meant the same thing. He was anxious puzzled, cu ions, iil at ease: b t he would not have bee i anywhere but where he was for the world. The custom of having flat decorations or the dinner table bad not obtained at the tune we write of. and in front of Geraldine and her partner large flowering plants formed an effectual screen from the eyes of those opposite. •‘I like a lot of flowers ” observed he once; “these are prettv. aren’t they.' ’ “Very pretty. But,” amended the beauty, airaid that her voluble friend on the other side was al out to .strike in before she could continue, and beginning to be a iittle desirous for one ■ of those encounters of wits which had always a certain exhilarating effect upon her, especially when they left Bellenden looking blank ami perturbed. “but for my own part I love I the sweeter scented flowers. These i are very showy, very handsome: but I ■ like — ” Then she caught his eye and I I stopped. He knew what she liked, and sho i ! knew that she was thinking he did so. •'My grandmother had our window- j I boxes filled with large ox-eyed daisies I i before I knew anything about it.” pro- | i needed Geraldine, going on at all haz- i ' arils. “I did leel vexed when I first, saw them. Oh no: it is not that 1 dislike dais es, only 1 wanted to have had mignonette, and and “les. 1 think I know what. I saw , some charming window gardening today. The best I have seen yet. "Have you any boxes yourself?” “At ray rooms on yes. Both my rooms are full oi the scent to-day. It was delicious just now. 1 know you , would have liked it —.” Then he, ! too. stopped, warned by her face. "Indeed: May I ask what the scent was?” said Geraldin ■ lightly. “Idon’t like every scent, you know.” "I know.” “Then why s odd I have liked yo rs? A hat is it' What have you got in your boxes?” "Am 1 to tell you truly?” said he in rather a low voice. Perhaps Ihal no right to say that? I meant no harm —” "Then tell mo,” and her voice was almost an echo of his. She could not help it, she told herself afterwards. "They are full of pur. le heliotrope,” he answered, and turned his face away from her. CHAPTER XIII. ! LADY RAYMOND’S STAWBERRY TEA. Cecil told his mother that she ha I managed very badly. I oor bov. he really had some cause for complaint, for, as he did not la 1 to point out. in spite of the defec ion of Lady Dawlish, Bellenden cculd still have handed in tils sister Ethel, while the deserted Mr. Le Masserer would have been equally, if not still better pleased to have had the pretty heiress. He did not add that in this case he wouid have been satisfied on his own account, laying a t the stress on his friend s having been separated from his sister; but Lady Ray.i ond understood him perfectly, nevertheless. The poor woman had not a word to say for herself. Os course, she too could have seen the better arrangement had one minute's time been given her to think about it; but how could she. or how could anyone have been expected to take in all the bearings ot the case in the buzz ot a full drawing-room, with the dinner imminent, and a husband signalling the one thing ol importance, to which all besides must give wav? She had not en oyed her own dinner, that she Knew; and whether the turbot were fresh or stale, or the whitebait ill or well done, she had not cared an atom. She had only eyes for two things, l evil’s unha py, and Ethel's discontented faces:and neitherof theta ought to have cast a stone at her, she was so truly penitent. Now, Cecil would not have minded one half as much had it not been for a certain increase of spirits on Bvllenden's part, visible after the meal. Bellenden. usually somewhat grave and distrait of late, had on tho recent occasion been almost merry after the ladies had gono upstairs and had shone forth as one of tho talkers and entertainers of the room. Lord Raymond had told his wife afterwards that Sir Frederick Bellenden had been a groat, success: Mr.LeMasserer had expressed his pleasure at meeting him; they must have him again. Where had he disappeared to when the gentlemen came up to the drawing-room? He had disappeared, certainly, and oh. he had g. ne to the foreign reception, had be? W.th Cecil? No; Cecil had gone with the Campbells l.ellendeu by himself? Bet J ady Raymouddid not know.and Cecil did not tell her, that the further shadow on the young man's brow alter that evening was due to another cause beside thatot the disarranged dinnertable, namely, to what had transpired during the small hours that followed. Bellenden had appeared at the embassy soon after he and his grandmother and cousin had taken up position near the head of the grand staircase. They had seen him coming: and he had felt a flash of conviction that by one at least of the party he had been expected. Geraldine had expressed no surprise, and on his own suggestion of an ad ournmont to one of the rooms —a suggestion wnich experience had taught him to believe would be acceptable under the circumstances—sho had obst'n tely held her ground. It was too hot to go inside, the had alleged, and the crowd was too great, and she was sure granny did better where she was. Geraldine's eyes, meanwhile, had

been following Bellenden slowly making his way up the staircase, as though impatient of his tardy progress, yet she had not sjraken his name, nor told her g andmother of his proximity. He hail come straight to them directly it had been | ossible. Still there has been nothing definite, nothing tangible, nothing that a rival could take bold o . Mrs l amp eii had received Sir Fre leri k courteously, but still with something of the stately dignity lately assumed in his presence, and < eraldine had merely honored him with a casual remark or two. such as might have been ma e to any one. There had lieen no chattering, no fi.rting. no picking u > of threads dropped at the dinner table. He would have told himself he was a fool for his uneasiness, had it not been for what look place presently. Bellenden had been with them for about a quar er of an hour, quietly assuming his pla e as one of the party in a manner he had never done before, when some acquaintance of the Raymonds had claimed Cecil's attention, and hail for some minutes completely diverted it from his cousin. He had had to tell them how he came to be there, and how his "peop e” were not there, what they were about, where they were to be met, and where they were not to be met. He had had to put some questions on his own account. The new-comers were great folks whom l.e did not often chance to meet—people who seldom frequented fashionable resorts, but who would 1 e noted wherever seen: the sort of acquaintances, in short, that young Raymond approved of, and with whom he would not for the world have cut short an interview. For full five minutes he had been thus completely engrossed, and when he had looked aro ind at the expiry of that period! neither Bellenden nor his cousin had been anywhere to be seen. “They have only gone to hear the band. ' Mrs. Campbell had said placidly. “I told them that I should remain here, and that you wou d take care of me.” How long the strains of the band had been heard thereafter he could not have told. It had see med ages, and must really have Iteen during a considerable length of time, since uirectly Geraldine had reappeared, it had beeu time to go. Geraldine had seemed hurried and apologetic, and the:e had been a good deal said about the crowds, and the number of rooms, and the difficulty of making way through them: but all the talking had been done by her. Bellenden had said nothing, but had stood by with a sort of a smile on his face, which it had not cheered poor Cecil's heart to see. He had, indeed, left all the excuses and explanation-; to his lair eompan on: but there had been that in his air which had said so plainly as words could hate done, that she was herself his excuse, an I one sufficient for him or for any man. No wonder the son spoke sharply and sulkily tothe parent w no had, ns it were, opened the way to so much: tor that Bellenden had. by seme means or other, now contrived io breakdown the I arrier which had existed for so long between him and his I quondam “little friend,” ana which 1 had, up to the present, seemed so impregnable, was only too obvious. Geraldine herself was bitterly indignant with herself during the summer morn which had set in ere the party quitted the festive halls, and which, gathering strength and grory, was | blaz ng orth in its full tide of light an Ilie as the weary girl sought in ' vain the slumber that hud fled her pillow. She wondered w hat she had been thinking of,dreamingof? She had gone on so well until nov . Never until this evening had she really faltered: scarcely ever had she been tempted to falter. She had. indo d. been aware of being ever more constantly on the look-out or him but what of that? he had had nothing from her but gay, mo king words, and sharp, two-edged jests. Only once or twice, only when she had been really too unkind, too barefaced, had she wheeled about and murmured the gentle after-word and Cast the soft glance which had undone ihe rest. But to-night? To-night there had been nothing to undo. She had tried to be sarcastic, flippant, and unfeeling, and had failed, and had failed utterly. For the future she must beware. And there was yet something further. Bellenden had offered a box at the opera, ana she had almost accepted it. Hew should sno now escape the < onsequence- of sin h imprudence? "The only thing will be to make granny refuse,” s le ruminated, tossing hither and thither on her fretful, feverish cou h: "Granny must just say i we have not an evening, or that the i weather is too hot or theaters. I can I show her that 1 do not care to go, and that will bo enough to make her not care. Then I can tell Sir Frederick I what she says.” Bit when it came to telling Sir Frederick, the message, somehow, took another form. Granny was very much o liged.and would like immensely to go. and either Tuesday or Wednesday would suit her. as they I had no engagements for those evenings. Now, how was this? Let us hearken to the preceding dialogue, and judge to whom tbo spparen . inconsistency is due. Granny- Well, my dear, Sir Frederick is very kind, and I dare say wo shall en oy it. Geraldine it is the one opera that I have not seen, which I should really care to see. Granny lam told it Is very good. Geraldine The Raymond girls say it is bcauli ul. Even Lneie Raymond has be n to it. Granny —Well, what night shall we fix? Geraldine —Why, if you really think cf going Granny—My dear. I am ready to go or not, as you decide. 1 thought you wouid certainly wish to go Geraldine — Ye—es. Granny—Do you not wish it? Os course if you do not Geraldine-Oh. but I—l-I—ldo. Granny smiling Then let us say ■ Tuesday or Wednesday, for we ought to give him a choice of days, as he may not be able to get a box lor the first. |TO BE CONTINUED.] The better men and women know each other, the less they say about ideals. The only social occasion at which married men are allowed to assist, is a funeral.

HOME AND THE FARM. — MATTERS OF INTERESTTOFARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. To Make Hina Lay in Winter—New Varieties of Potatoes —Give the Cows a Grooming—Sheep with Five Legs —A New Horscstsoe. JSkks and Cold Weather. When the farmer throws down corn and feeds his hens liberally be may secure but a few eggs, as lie is then feeding for the market and not for eggs, j A fat hen will not lay. and is as unprof- i liable as a fat sow for breeding. What i the hens mostly need is nitrogenous 1 matter, for they can. if fed any grain i at all, easily provide the yolk, lime, I phosphoric acid, etc., but the large J amount of albumen in an egg calls for : more nitrogenous food than is usually I allowed. Some, improperly, ascribe • the failure to secure eggs to a lack of., green footl. While some kind of bulky I fisid (such as clover hay chopped fine ' and scalded, as well as cooked potatoes and turnips) is excellent, yet the desideratum is animal food, and if less grain be fed. and more meat, either raw or cooked, there will be more eggs. Milk and curds are also suitable, but meat is better than anything else. As a pound of meat daily will be sufficient for a dozen hens, and almost any kind of meat will do, the expense is a small matter, compared to the high prices obtained for eggs in winter. It is not necessary to feed grain more than once a day. A morning meal of scalded, chopped hay, with some kind of animal food and wheat at night, will give more eggs, if the hen house is kept warm, than any other method, and it will be cheaper than feeding three times a day on grain. A pan of warm water in the morning should always be allowed.— Farm and Home. New Varieties of Potatoes. The tubers will sometimes, though rarely, “sport” and produce a different variety from the one planted, giving the Impression that they will “mix in the hill.” The only way to be certain ot producing new varieties is to plant the real seeds, those found in the fruit or "ball,” that succeeds the flowers at the top of the vine. Each seed in a ball may produce a distinct variety. That wonderful seed ball which contained the seed from which came the early rose also produced several other varieties, some of which were good enough to be propagated. People have been deterred from trying to raise potatoes from the seed by the statements in the books, copied from English writers, that the tubers first obtained were very small, and required several years of cultivation before their quality could be ascertained. Mr. Breese, who was the fortunate originator of the early rose, and has had much experience in raising seedlings, informed us that he treated the potato seeds just as he did those of the tomato, sowing the seeds iu the same manner, and setting out tlie plants at the same time. If a seedling did not at the end of the first season show some tubers of an eatable size, he did not bother with it any farther. Some seedsmen offer potato seeds, but unless it is known what variety produced them we should‘prefer to wait and secure seed next fall from known varieties, and thus be sure of the pedigree of the seedlings. A New Horseshoe, Here is a new idea in horseshoes. It is a shoe fastened to the hoof in the ordinary way, but provided to receive calks that can be removed and replaced by new ones when worn. This can be done by any ordinary stable hand. Each set of these shoes sold is accomi B I i ■ I \VA 111 Oi / THE NEW SHOE. panled by twelve dozen calks, which, it is said, will outwear three sets of ordinary shoes. The Possibilities of Sorghum. The sorghum crop is one that ought to be more generally grown than it is. The crushed canes, after all ihe sweetness that can be got out of them is extracted, make a good feed for stock. Joshua Daniel, a Kansas farmer, this past year made IS3 gallons of syrup from sorghum grown on six square rods, less than an acre. The sorghum also produced forty-four bushels of seed, worth 50 cents a bushel. The fodder. syrup and seed from this plat of land sold for $73.75, which is more than most Eastern farmers get from an acre of land. There are comparatively few localities in the Eastern States where machinery can be found to work the sorghum into syrup. Such machinery requires that a good many farmers grow sorghum, so as to keep it employed during the season.—Exchange. Grooming for the Cows. Horses have more often been made pets than cows have been. So far as grooming goes the average cow gets very little of it, except what she can do herself by rubbing her shoulders and neck against the sides of the stable in which she is confined. Try a curry comb and brush on the cow as well as l on the horse. Unless the cow is very

thin the curry comb will be liked even I better than the brush. The dirt in a ’ cow's hair is always liable to get Into the milk pail, as it is brushed out when the milker rubs against tile animal in getting out of the narrow stall. The Farmer’s Boy. Has wide-ojien eyes. Is mirthful and jolly. Gets up with the sun. Is generous and kind. Is truthful and square. Has a voice like a bell. Is not vulgar or coarse. Grumbles hardly at all. Likes to frolic and play. Is prompt and obedient. Is always ready to help. Is his mother's chief joy. Has clean hands and face. Is his sister's great chum. Has a mind like a sjtonge. Thinks his father is great. Is near the head of ills class. Seldom whimpers or whines. Never loafs at the “corners." Keeps himself tidy and sleek. Wants to grow up a true man. Often asks the wherefore and why. Says "I thank you” and "Please, sir.” And grows like a turnip in June. —Epworth Herald. Has Five Legs. There is no part of the world that produces stranger things than can be found in southeastern Missouri, and a sheep that is owned by C. R. Fulcher, [TZ - -■ A FIVE-LEGGED SHEEP. of De Soto, is one of the oddities in the freak line. This sheep, now 20 months old, has five legs, four where they ought to be and a fifth that projects from the shoulder of one of the others. The fifth leg is of no more use than would be a fifth wheel to a wagon. The fifth leg is also a freak in itself, for it has a double set of hoofs. It has attracted a great deal of attention among the farmers, and recently Mr. Fulcher had the sheep photographed. Fall Pasturing Winter Grain. Some of our Western exchanges are giving opinions about the effect of fall pasturing winter wheat. We have seen wheat that made too heavy a growth in the fall, which was materially benefltted by pasturing with sheep while the ground was dry and before the frost had injured the feed. Sheep are better for this than any other stock. They are light in proportion to their feed, and their tramping over light, porous soil makes it compact. Then, what they eat off the fall is only what would be a constant drain on the root whenever the weather is mild. The wheat grower wants a large growth in the fall mainly to get a vigorous root. If the top growth is cut or eaten off the root is none the worse for the fact.—American Cultivator. Seed Germination. It has been ascertained by an ex tended series of experiments that rye and winter wheat germinate in soil the temperature of which is as low as S 3 degrees. Barley, oats, flax, clover and peas will sprout at 35 degrees. The turnip is as cold-blooded as the rye and winter wheat, but the carrot needs 38 degrees and the bean 40 degrees before they will make thp initial effort to send the life-shoot in search of air and light. Farm Notes. Many substances which will go into the manure heap add nothing thereto, but serve as absorbents, which save the valuable portions of the manure and avoid loss. Many fruits are not self-pollenizing, and fail to give a crop. The remedy is not to depend on a single variety, but to have several kinds, growing them close together whenever it can be done. The keeping qualities of fruit should be the first consideration. Size and flavor are important, but some of the largest and most highly flavored fruits of all kinds will not bear shipment to market as well as other varieties that are inferior in quality. It is not how much feed eau be converted into some kind of product. A heavy feeder is considered by sumo as an objectionable animal, but if the animal yields largely of milk or butter it must be able to consume and digest a large quantity of feed proportionately. A good place to throw tlie wood ashes is around tlie peach trees. Old bones, that are apparently useless, can be pounded and buried around the grapevines. Refuse material and scrapings from the woodpile are serviceable if used as a mulch around any kind of trees. One advantage of a depression in farming is tlie demand of the farmers for some means of increasing their profits, which leads them to the use of better stock and superior implements. The remedy for low prices is larger crops per acre and extra quality of the products. Many bams and stables whicn permit cold draughts to come in through cracks could be made more comfortable at a small expense. A dollar’s worth of thick paper or a roll of tarred felt tacked securely tn the wall would add greatly as a protection against cold winds and could easily be removed when summer approaches. It is quite possible to feed bees in the winter on sugar syrup, and to take most of the honey in the fall. Sugar Is much cheaper than honey, pound for pound, and honey is more than half i water. The purest white sugar is used | and boiled to a thin syrup. This prei vents souring, which would otherwise I occur, and would be fatal to the bees. I as it produces dysentery.

GIANT SHELLS. Curious and Wonderful Ferros of Desn-Sea Life. In our own time there are gigantic shells, their presence sometimes being disagreeably forced upon the finder. In the South Pacific, where the ocean is apparently cut up with small islands or reefs of coral, the tridacna, or lung of the dams, is found —a gigantic two-valved shell, with deep radiations or convolutions, that often weigh five hundred pounds. These monsters are found imbedded in the coral rock, a singular frill of lightly-colored flesh only appearing above the surface. This habit has been the cause of a number of accidents to natives as well as white men. The locality where they are found is frequented by collectors of marine curiosities, who send the shells, sea fans und corals to America and Europe, where they are distributed to tlie curiosity dealers all over the world. In searching for shells, the collectors wade along the shallow lagoons or reefs, followed by a flat-bottomed boat, into which they toss their various finds. On one occasion an inexperienced man war hunting for shells without a boat, having merely a native net thrown over his shoulders. Seeing what he thought was a large sea anemone of beautiful tints, he struck it with his foot, and in an instant was thrown upon his face screaming with agony. The seeming anemone was a giant shell that, startled at the sudden attack, had closed its huge valves and held the collector a prisoner as firmly as though he had been clasped by a vise; in fact, the shells cut through skin and bones. The unfortunate man was. some distance from help, and as he had started at low tide, the treacherous waters were rising. For an hour the victim underwent untold agonies of pain and apprehension, fearing that the tide would rise above his lips. Struggles were useless, and he heroically waited until n canoe came in sight, when he signalled the occupants, who, after much difficulty, released him, the animal having to be killed by severing the great muscles that held the shells together. A number of such instances are on record, and large sharks have been caught by the shells in the same way. Some natives at the New Hebrides Islands, seeing an unusual commotion some distance from shore, went out and found a ten-foot shark beating the water; hurling itself this way and that, as though held by some enemy. Approaching, they found that the big fish was held firmly by the tail, the lobe of which had touched the fleshy portion of the shell and been caught. To excavate one of these giants often requires the work of several men for a week, as the shell at times is deeply incased in the solid coral rock, which has to be cut away. One animal taken was served as a dinner to the crews of two vessels, affording a meal to fifty men. One species of these shells is very common, and is used as an ornament, while others serve as receptacles for holy water in churches and cathedrals. Primitive Lighting Systems. In the long series which has led up to our present lighting systems America appears at both ends of the string. Just as the American arc light is the highest conception of the daylight maker, the torch of the Indian has been found to be the crudest effort ever made by man to count the inches before his nose in the darkness. These torches were naught but for pine twigs, twisted together, and set on fire by sparks created by the friction of two pieces of bark or board. But as the savage broiled his meat on wooden spits over his bonfire, he noticed that the fat clinging to the wood caused it to flame more brightly, so he made the first step toward candle making by greasing pine wood and afterward by sticking torches through tho bodies of fish or birds, a custom which still prevails among the natives of the northwest coast and the Esquimaux of Alaska. In the South Sea Islands the savages string oily nuts on sticks, which are kept burning during their religious performances, and the Malays go further by using bundles of resin wrapped in palm leaves, while the early English and Scandinavians dipped rushes in heated fat and afterward wrapped cloth fiber in rolls of wax —hence the growth of the tallow and wax candle. The first use of the candle in China and Japan, however, is lost in obscurity. The use of the candle in most countries may be dated from the introduction of domestic animals and honey bees into the territory. Likewise, the lamp is found in its crudest form among the aborigines of this country. The Esquimaux found on the beach a stone wit it a natural depression in it, which he filled wifli seal fat, and used a moss wick. This is also repeated among the earliest tribes of other countries, the next step in the direction of a globular vessel for oil being the irregular earthen saucer, while in America turnips have been found hollowed out for this purpose, and among the Pennsylvania Dutch the primitive form crops up to-day in the use of the tin pan, with a tallow wick. Lighting in London. When it was first proposed to light the streets of London with gas great objection was made by the publie and newspapers on the ground that the people would he poisoned, that the trees and vegetation would be killed, and that domestic animals could not possibly survive the deadly fumes.