Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 August 1892 — Page 5

A COLONIAL MESSAGE. BY HENRY TALCOTT MILLS. A. quaint old book, whose faded yellow pages Turned over in the garret’s sombre gloom, Send forth an odor caught distant ages, A strangely sweet, mysterious perfume, Seeming to breathe of other days than ours—- " The perfume of their flowers. Upon the fly leaf in an old handwriting, Which many after years have not effaced, These simple words, two lovers’ hearts uniting, At this late da'y may still be clearly traced: “Prudence, from John,” and then a date below In the dim long ag I turn the leaves, upon whose margin lingers The touch of one who turned these leaves of old, The dainty, loving touch of those white fingers Which have in death these many years been cold, And to this day, from these dim yellow lines, Her smiles, reflection shines’. The quaint, old-fashioned text, as I discover, Is dry at best—ill-suited to engage A maiden’s thought; the book is one no lover Would set his love to read in any age! Happy, somewhere a tender message lies, Sent her in this disguise. Turning a page, ere I have time to wonder Whether this may be so, I faintly see Letters and some whose words with linings under, Which, joined together, make it plain to me Why they were marked far over in the book Where none would chance to look. Ah, what a message this to undermine The dry and prosy wisdom of a sage! The wise old author, how could he divine That love’s soft speech would creep into his pagel And he who wrote the message—who was he? Come, read his words with me. “Prudence: I go to the battle on the field; Think of me sometimes, though our ways divide. Now, must our love, sweetheart, be thus concealed, Yet will I one day claim you for mv bride. Your father may give his consent anon— Till .then be true to John.” Prudence was true, the chronicler he saith, And though her maiden heart was well nigh broken, Calmly she heard of John’s heroic death, Thrilled at his bravery, but gave no token Of hor poor secret love. Years after chance Reveals the sad romance. —[Boston Journal.

THE DEAD HAND.

From the first day of my temporary sojourn at 14 Transome Terrace, Westville-by-Sea, I became aware that some one was ill next door. The weather was so persistently wet that I was compelled to remain within, and, being alone, I naturally spent much of my time at the window, wondering Whether it ever would be fine enough for outdoor sketching. Thus it was that the frequent visits to 13 of an unmistakable doctor, in an unmistakable doctor’s brougham attracted my attention. Two, and even three times a day he came, and on his departure I always noticed that look of grave, professional anxiety which, on a doctor’s face, bodes ill for the patient. Sometimes the medical man was accompanied to his carriage by a gentleman who appeared to be questioning him with singular earnestness. Bareheaded, and regardless of the never-ceasing rain, the latter would stand at the door of the brougham, seemingly loath to let the doctor go without some final instructions, or, perchance, some ray of hope. The anxious inquirer was tall, with narrow, stooping shoulders, but all that I could see of his features as he hurried back into the house was that he was about thirty years of age, with no hair on his face, which was very pale. . With a curiosity born of enforced idleness, I asked my landlady what was the matter at Na. 13, but all she could tell me was that the house next door was also a lodging house and that the doc»tor’s visits were paid to an old gentleman who had been brought there very ill, by his nephew. My landlady added that it was a strange choice of apartments io have made for a sick person, as the woman who kept them was little better than an idiot, and was only assisted by an equally stupid servant girl. At the time I put this remark down to professional jealously, especially as the nephew had been to look at the rooms I myself was now occupying, and, after making particular inquiries, had refused them. It was not until I had been gt Westville a week that the weather brightened and I was able to take my sketch book in search of subjects. But the eighth day was fine, and starting immediately after breakfast, I managed to put in a good day’s work at the ruined tower some miles along the coast. Returning at sundown I dined, and then settled myself for a comfortable pipe over the day’s S. As I lit up I could not help wong how many visits the doctor had paid to No. 13. From mere force of habit I had grown into looking out for him and finally into taking a sort of interest in the number of times he came. The day before, while I was still at my post at the window, he had been in four times, from which I argued that the patient was worse. I had not been reading very long when there was a ring at the street door bell. A minute or so later my landlady came into the room and said that the gentleman who lodged next door was below, and had asked for her husband, who happened to be out for the evening. On hearing that the gentleman had inquired if there was any ane else in the house who could accompany him back next door for a few minutes on a matter of business. The landlady was unable to go herself, the servant being out, but as the gentleman seemed disappointed she had token the liberty of suggesting that he should ask me. Would I, at any rate, see him and then decide? I was only too glad to be of use to people who appeared to be in great trouble, far from their friends in a seaside lodging house, and I told the landlady to show the gentleman in. In another moment the tall, looseframed man whom I had seen so often attending the doctor to his carriage stood bowing in the doorway. “Pray come in,” I said, rising, “in what way can I be of service to you ?” The -stranger entered the room. His eyes, which I saw were weak, blinked in the bright lamplight. He disregarded the motion I made toward a chair, and answered me standing. He seemed nerv-

ously anxious to conquor his shortsightedness in order to make out what manner of man I was. In other words, he peered at me somewhat rudely. “It is simply the small matter of witnessing the signature to a will,” he said. “If I might trespass on your kindness to step in next door for that purpose I should be greatly obliged. My uncle is ill, and though I trust he is in no immediate danger he is anxious to affix his signature to-night.” “I shall be most happy,” I said, taking up my h: t, “I will come with you at once.” “I must introduce myself,” said the stranger, as he led the way downstairs. “My name is Gaston Pierrepont; my uncle whom you are about to see is General Maitland, of Godney Park, Northampshire. I brought him here in the hopes that he might derive benefit from the sea air.” “With good results, I trust,” was the reply which politeness drew from me, though the frequent visits of that ominous brougham led me to expect a negative answer. To my surprise Mr. Pierrepoint replied in the affirmative, “Yes,” he said, “my uncle is better, though still dangerously ill.” By this time we were out in the street at the door of No. 13. He had already inserted his latch key in the lock, when he paused and looked at me. “There is one thing I must prepare you for,” he said, blinking his weak eyes at me in the gloom ; “my uncle is unable to speak. His complaint is nervous paralysis, you understand? Otherwise he is in full possession of his faculties. The doctor is with him now, and certifies to his fitness to sign.” I merely bowed and followed him into the house. No. 13 was a sac-simile of No. 14, with the exception of some slight differences in the furniture which stamped it as what it was—a second-rate seaside lodging house. Mr. Pierrepont conducted me upstairs to the first floor, and stopping outside a door on the landing knocked three times. There was a slight pause and a movement inside the chain i <er, and then a voice said, “Come in,” Grasping the door handle, Mr. Pierrepont turned to me hurriedly as if he had forgotten something. “I think,” he said, “it might be as well if I knew who was going to perform this service for us. Might I ask—” I stopped him by acceding to his very reasonable request. I took out my pocketbook and gave him one of my visiting cards with my name—Angus Macdonald —and the address of my studio in St. John’s Wood engraved thereon. He put it close to his eyes, b]inked at it, and said in a tone which somehow or other suggested relief: “Ahl you live in London—not here— I see.”

He opened the door, and I followed him into the room. There was a dim light from a shaded lamp which stood on a small table at the head of the bed, but so disposed that the curtains prevented its rays from falling on the sick man. On the bed, half reclining, half supported by a young man, with fair hair and wearing spectacles, w’as an old man whom, even in that dim light, I saw to be of stately presence and dignified mien. His scanty locks were snow white, .as were the bushy eyebrows, which he kept bent down toward the paper lying on the bed before him. But what surprised me most was the ruddy glow of health in General Maitland’s cheeks. The latter were sunken, it is true, but the faint lamp light was strong enough to show me a pink and white color that would have done no discredit to a maiden of sixteen. My conductor introduced me briefly. The general merely acknowledged my presence by courteous inclination of the head—a movement which he repeated when Mr. Pierrepoint asked him affectionately if he was ready to go through the usual formalities. “Very well, then, I will fetch Mrs. Butters as a second witness,” said the nephew'. “ The doctor there would do. but his attention must not be taken from his patient.” “The doctor !” I thought, wondering •why the portly individual whose brougham I had watched so often, should have given place to the flaxen-haired young man whose right arm encircled the general so carefully. The personage with the brougham did not cure quick enough, I suppose. Mr. Pierrepoint returned with a snuffling, tremulous female, whose vacuous countenance at once relieved my own landlady from a charge of libelling her neighbor and rival which I had mentally preferred against her. “Stop there by the door till you are wanted; we must not crowd the general,” said Pierrepont, and Mrs. Butters halted obediently, paying a good deal more attention to the pattern of her own carpet than to the proceedings around her. “Here is the will,” Pierrepont went on, holding up the paper, with the place for the signatures of the testator and witnesses as yet blank. Then he replaced it reverently before his uncle who bent over the document, and, supported by the ever careful doctor, slowly affixed his name: “William Joseph Maitland,” at the foot. As soon as his pen had made the last feeble scratch, Mr. Pierrepont brought the will over to me before the ink was dry, and I added my name, using the dressing table as a writing desk. The vacuous landlady followed, and in her tremulous scrawl General Maitland’s last will and testament received its finishing touch. I immediately prepared to leave the room and Pierrepont made no attempt to detain me.

I said “ Goodnight ” to the general, adding some commonplace remark about hopes for his recovery—a compliment which he again acknowledged with one of his £rave bows. That is my last recollection of the scene—the venerable Old man sitting up among pillows with the watchful doctor at his side. Pierrepont followed me on to the landing to conduct me td the street door. He thanked me profusely for coming; indeed, he said a good deal more than the occasion demanded. I stopped him, and to turn the conversation said: “So you have changed your doctor, Mr. Pierrepont ?” He stopped in the passage and blinked at me enquiringly. “Ah!” he said, “you have perhaps noticid Dr. Lorrimer here. That is Andrews, his assistant. The doctor could not come to-night, and, between ourselves, Andrews is the best man, I think. ” We parted at the door of No. 13, and I went back to my pipe and newspaper, having been absent barely twenty minutes, viz., from 8.30 to 8.50. . That night as I retired to rest I found myself speculating as to the amount of Mr. Gaston Pierrepont’s interest in the will I had witnessed. But in the morning I received a shock. The first piece of news my landlady—bustling in with the breakfast tray —imparted was that General Maitland was dead.

For a moment I experienced a sensation of surprise. Probably the General’s ruddy cheeks had forbidden the idea of such a speedy removal, but I soon saw that, after all, there was not much to wonder at. The day was again fine, and I deter mined to return to the ruined tower to finish the sketch I had begun. I reached the place on foot and set to work, but after some little time I had occasion to shift my position in order to obtain a different view of my subject. In doing so I met with an accident. An old stone wall on which I had mounted crumbled beneath me, and I fell violently to the ground. When I rose I knew that my left arm was broken. In great pain I made my way back to my lodgings and accepted my landlady’s offer to send at once for the doctor. In answer to her inquiry as to which of the medical men of the town I should prefer, I named the only one I had any knowledge of —Dr. Lorrimer- -who had been such a frequent visitor next door. The doctor came quickly and did what was needed. It was a simple fracture and easily set. Dr. Lorrimer was a cheerful, chatty man, and stayed for a little general conversation after his professional skill had exhausted itself. “By the way, doctor,” I said, “you have lost a patient next door.” “Yes, poor old fellow,” he replied, “not before I expected, though. There was no hope for him from the first.” “Your assistant, Mr. Andrews, seemed to be taking every care of him last night,” I said. “My assistant? Mr. Andrews? Last night?” the doctor exclaimed in amazement. “I have no assistant, and what of last night, sir?” I explained how I had been asked in by Mr. Pierrepont to witness the general’s will at 8.30 in the evening.. Dr. Lorrimer drew a long breath. “Well,” he said at last, “if you saw him sign his will at half-past eight he signed it with a dead hand. General Maitland died at half-past four yesterday as ternoon. ”

My broken arm was the means of exposing the whole dastardly plot by which Gaston Pierrepont, aided by his wife, had schemed to possess himself of his uncle’s property to the exclusion of his son and lawful heir—an officer serving in an Indian regiment. The General had, as the doctor said, died shortly after four, he himself being present. Having finished with the case it was not likely that the doctor would be questioned as to the exact hour of death, and there would be nothing suspicious in a man signing his will on the day of his death, should the General’s son compare the date of the will with that of the certificate which Dr. Lorrimer had given before he left the house. The “Mr. Andrews” who supported the dead man and guided his hand was Gaston Pierrepont’s wife, a woman who had already suffered imprisonment, and who was the instigator of her husband’s crime. The source of the “health glow," which bore a principal part in deceiving me, can easily be imagined. The couple fled on being openly accused by Dr. Lorrimer and myself, and George Maitland, when he came to claim his own, decided for the credit of the family not to pursue them, seeing he had lost nothing by the will his father had signed with a dead hand.—[The Million.

WASHINGTON’S CLOTHES.

A Letter to His Tailor Gives Some of the Great Man’s Measurements. The gentleman who brought forward the following communication had not only the original letter in hie possession, but was also the owner of the “measure,” composed of stiff paper carefully sewn together, and with the marks written m it in the General’s handwriting, relates the Sartorial Art Journal. It was sent to the tailor through Washington’s agents, presumaby “Cary & Company, merchants.” It is notable for the same exactitude and precision as the more important matters which the General had connection with, and it is invaluable ae giving the absolute condition of hie physique in the year of itg date: Virginia, 20th April, 1763.—Mr. Lawrence: Be pleased to send mo a genteel eute as cloaths, made of superfine broad doth, handsomely chosen:—l should have inclosed my measure, but, in a general way, thev are so badly taken here, that I am eonvinoed it would be of little service; I would have you, therefore, take measure of a gentleman who wears well-made cloaths of the following size, to wit: Six feet high, and proportionally made; if anything, rather slender than thick for a person of that height, with pretty long arms and thighs. You will take care to make the breeches longer than those you sent me last, and I would have you keep the measure of the deaths you now make by you, and if any alteration is required in my next, it shall be pointed out. Mr. Cary will pay your bill. lam, sir, your very obedient humble servant, t George Washington Note—For your further government and knowledge of my size, I have sent the enclosed, and you must observe, yt from ye coat end to No. 1 and No. 1, is ye size over ye breast and hips, No 2 over ye belly, and No. 4 round ye arm, and from yo breeches end. To No. a, is for waistband; ’ b., thick of the thigh; c., upper buttonhole; d., knee band; e., for length of breeches. Therefore, if you take measure of a person about six feet high of this bigness, I think you can’t go amiss; you must take notice that the enclosed is the exact size, without any allowance for seams, etc. Geobge Washington. To Mr. Chas. Lawrence, Taylor, in old Fish street, London. As Washington was 31 in 1763, his height, as he states it, viz., six feet, is apparently at variance with the popular belief that he was six feet two inches, but it may be that some peculiarity, either of his length of limb or of his body, caused him to tell his tailor to measure a gentleman of only six feet, assured that by some slight difference on his part from other men he may have‘exactly the corrected difference. He was so correct in all his directions that this seems the only elucidation of the discrepancy.

Nose and Complexion.

Dr. Emil Schmidt, professor of anthropology in Leipzig University and author of “Anthropologische Methoden,” has in recent numbers of the Globys given the reSults of his studies on the native races of India. He classfies the different types as, 1, narrow nosed, fair skinned; 2, broad nosed, fair skinned; 3, narrow nosed, dark skinned; 4, broad nosed, dark skinned. The second type he is inclined to consider a mixed one, resulting from intermixture of the white Aryan and Dravidian. The third type is represented by the klings or day laborers observed in the cities of the straits, and Dr. Schmidt thinks they are of Tamul or Teluge origin.—[Philadelphia Ledger. A stray dog at Delta, Ohio, was so tormented and tortured by cruel boys that he ran toward a noisome pool at the edge of the town. Stopping an instant the animal looked around, then deliberately plunged in and died—an undoubted case of suicide.

GOING, ALL BUT GONE.

THE SUMMER SEASON FAST CLOSING. Thoughts of Autumn Styles and Visions ot Theater and Opera Costumes Already Crowd the Fashion Devotee's BrainSome Valuable Hints. Styles for Late Summer. New York correspondence:

Going, going, an but gone! Such is the cry of fashion’s auctioneer, now en- __ gaged in selling off the few remnants of time in which the etpk devotee of modes Slr.to. may display any LuKWgowns of her sumoutfit yet rev \ maining unseen. VN \ With the end of \W\ I -^ u K ußt come i'll 1 r thoughts of autumn styles and visions fj “ of theater and opera I costumes. MeanI while, the fashionJ able woman is ,ij spending these U “remnants of time” to the very best i! advantage, and, if | the weather only continues pro pifl _„ tious, she will succeed in unfolding every feather of her ZZw Ray plumage before the season

eloses, and will return to town like a female Alexander, longing for more worlds to conquer, and, of course, for more dresses to wear. Said a summer girl to me the other day: “People call me pretty. Bah! its all nonsense. I simply know how to dress, that’s all. Manners make the man, but style makes the woman. Give me gowns enough, and I’ll turn the heads of a whole nation. AV hat would Harry of Navarre have been without his white plumes?’ The season will undoubtedly go out in a blaze of glory. Up to the last moment costumes will preserve their delightful gauzy effects. Sleeves will continue to swell, while lace, draped, pendent, festooned and cascaded, will cover the bodices, and ribbons wound around and around the figure will give the fair ladies of fashion the look of latter-day mummies, swathed up in gossamer tis-

GARDEN HAT.

sues, tied with ribbons and enwrapped to lace. In the initial cut you see one of the latest styles of scalloped lace berthas, surmounted by a chiffon collarette. The gown is a pink mauve crepe de chine. The sleeves are of mauve silk muslin, accordion-pleated, wding at the elbow with a ribbon band. Lace figaros in old Irish guipure are very modish. They must fit the figure, and there should be a broad ribbon belt in Scotch ribbon, cream, pink and green. In many cases sleeves are mere epaulets, below which there is a lace sleeve run with a ribbon at the elbow. Lace berthas are double, the first reaching to the bust line, and the second almost to the belt or corselet. Speaking of corselets, I may say that they seem quite as popular as ever. A new style is to have the skirt, corselet and sleeves of one material, and the entire top of a plain bodice closely covered with laee or guipure, with a deep frill of laee over the sleeve. The newest tailor-mades have cutaway coats, curving gracefully at the hips and falling to a moderate length in square tails. The swallow tails reaching almost to toe ground are merely a passing agony, and will not be seen this fall In town. In the matter of headgear there is apparent at times an inclination to run to the highly picturesque, but the persistence with which the broad-brimmed sailor hat has held Its place has really quite disconcerted the summer girl. She has considerable courage, but she does not care to stand up like Arnold Wiekelried, one against a thousand. For those longing for something picturesque, the large white chip hat, trimmed with long white ostrich feathers has

TRAVELING DRESS.

come in very opportunely. Gray hat* in the same line are likewise very becoming, there being two long gray feathers fastened in front with a small white wing and a crystal buckle. Instead of the wing, you may substitute a pointed bow of gray velvet ribbon. In my second picture I present a very pretty garden hat. The trimming is of pleated crepe set off with lace, and surmounted by a twisted roll of the crepe with a crest of the same material ornamented with a sprig of roses. A stylish traveling dress, something that should be in the summer outfit of every fashionable woman, is shown in the third illustration. It is made up in striped woolen material, lined with silk, the skirt on the inside being finished with a flounce of the same stuff as the dress. The pointed corsage has coattails, a velvet collar and revere of the woolen material. The vest may be buttoned to the corsage. The sleeves have flaring velvet cuffs. Such a costume as this comes in very well for knock-about service during the summer, and its masculine characteristics' give it a look of neatness and trimness very be-

coming to a good figure. With It may be worn a tourist’s hat In rough straw, as nearly as possible of the same shade as the dress. In no one particular does the well-dresstd woman show her good taste in always wearing the right sort of a gown on the right occasion than when traveling or moving about in public places. There is a great deal in thia. It enables her to preserve her nervous equilibrium under trying circumstances. It is astonishing how some women begin to fret and fume the moment they set out on a tourney. I attribute it largely to the fact that they are not properly dressed, they are too warmly clad, or they wear a dress that wrinkles or spots easily, and before they have gone fifty miles they present an untidy and inussed-up appearance. Not so the woman who is attired in a neat and suitable traveling dross. Nothing disturbs her serenity. The very dust refuses to stick to her, and at the end of her journey she alights from the train with a smile that is comforting to look upon. Her friends welcome her with greater cordiality, for they feel instinctively that she will tit Into the household and add to the general comfort of all. On the other hand, the woman who is sweltering in a heavy and unsuitable

AFTERNOON TOILET.

dress loses her temper, her sachet, her baggage-cheeks, anil her patience, and usually succeeds in robbing other people of much of their comfoit, I once knew a woman who made a 500-mlle trip in a black velvet dress trimmed with black lace. There w.is not a person tn the same car who did not heave a sigh of relief when she reached her destination; they had been made thoroughly uncomfortable by her restlessness and peevishness. She had averaged ten questions ami fifteen complaints for each half-hour, and even then it had been necessary to toss her black bag out of the window to her. Next to the woman who knows how to travel is the woman who knows how to stay at home, by which I mean to show by her manner and dress that she is not on the wing, butthat she is really “stopping" at the hotel where she may be. You can always tell such a person by her dress. It Is the perfection of fit, and as restful to the eye as the color of the lilacs or the tones of the even.ag sky, I present such a character in the fourth picture. She is us you see her In the hotel parlor, which appears to be a room in her own home. She is one of those few peop.e who know how to dress when it really is a question what is appropriate to wear; that is, she is never under or over dressed. She la never known to mar a fete by com lag in too somber a gown, or to disturb a solemn occasion by making her appearance in yellow or pink. Here she wears a natty flgaro corsage over a silk blouse belted In with a broad oorselet, which, like the collar, is either embroidered or covered with passementerie. Her footwear is always of exquisite fit mad in perfect taste. You don’t meet

COSTUME TOR LAWN PARTY.

her wearing white kid shoes with a blaek silk gown, or russets with an elegant calling costume, or buttoned boots with a white flannel suit There will be no end of lawn parties as the season draws to a close. As two and three often take place on the same afternoon, the hostess ean only put "from 3 to 5” on her cards and trust to the strong desire of the summer girl to display her gowns to as many people as possible. Batiste is largely used for lawn party dresses, either stamped or embroidered. Mauve and white are favorite colors, ana Irish guipure the lace most used. The dress is usually cut in one piece, the folds being held at the waist by a ribbon belt, tied in front. At the top the corsage is composed of a crossed fichu In plain batiste, and the front of the dress is so trimmed with lace as to make the fichu look like a yoke. The epaulets are of the embroidered batiste, and the lower sleeves of the plain. The cuffs are of the guipure. I have still one more charming outdoor costume to show you, that pictured in my last illustration. Here you have a very picturesque gown for a lawn party, or for any outdo r fete. It is in pink crepon. The skirt is finished with two rows of broad galloon, through which you pass moss-green ribbon as indicated. Between the rows of galloon is placed vertical fancy stitching. The corsage has the same scheme of ornamentation. The broad ribbon belt has a band of the galloon at the top. The puffed sleeves are also encircled by a band of the galloon; below they are tight fitting. Copyright, 18*2.

To His Mother.

In a recent book on “Woman Through a Man’s Eyeglass” the authoi pays this beautiful tribute to his mother, to whom he dedicates the volume. “When one has reached middle life and the wheels of existence need oiling with the encouragement of affection; when one is wounded and weary, he seeks again the steady starlight of a mother’s love. . . . For a man who is growing old, with neither wife noi child to bring him greetings on hit birthday, 1 can conceive nothing more awful than to have no mother whc shall say, ‘Bless you, my son!’ while in so doing she happily remembers, in a gentle autumn mood of love, all that full flowering summer love with which she greeted him on that first birthday. ” Tubs will not warp or crack open 11 the precaution is taken to put a pail oi water into each directly alter using.

NOTES AND COMMENTS.

The United States afford the most profitable market for canary-birds propagated in Germany. In that country the business of raising these feathered songsters for export is a very important one. Queen Christina of Spain is bringing her influence to bear against the national pastime of bull fighting. Since the death of her husband she has been seen but once in the royal box of the arena. However, her attitude of aversion has as yet accomplished little besides emphasizing the fact of her being a woman of strong and true character, for every Sunday the arena at Madrid, accommodating 16,000 people, is filled to overflowing. The preliminary report of the Census Office gives names of fifty-three telephone companies at present operating in the United States, with a total investment of $72,341,736; gross earnings of $16,414,588; gross expenses, $11,143,871; net earnings, $5,260,712; number of exchanges, 1,241; number of telephones and transmitters, 467,356; miles of wire, 240,412; number of employees, 8,645; number of subscribers, 227,357. The jelly palace, which the women of California will prepare for the World’s Fair exhibit, will be 16x20 feet and 25 feet high, with two open doors, approached by three marole steps. 'Pho framework will be of wire. On this will be firmly placed several thousand jelly glasses, filled with jelly of many shades of color, arranged in artistic designs. The interior will tie brilliantly illuminated by electricity. The cost of the framework and glasses alone is estimated at $2,700. Neahly twice as many patents were taken last year as in the first fifty years after the patent system was established, and still the. field is not yet covered. It would be interesting to know what proportion of the 22,080 patents granted last year, or the nearly half a million that are recorded, have made fortunes for the inventors. It is safe to say that at least one-half have never returned the amount expended in experimenting and patent fees, and many of them have never been put upon the market at all. The French newspapers tell, all too briefly, of a very interesting match that came off in France. Two women in good society challenged each other to talk fast. Each was to utter os many words as possible in a fixed time. Whether the words were to convey some thought, were to be sensible, or whether it was to be simply chattering of parrots is, unfortunately, not stated. Each women talked three consecutive hours. One uttered 208,560 words. The other won the match with 206,000 words. Nor is the information given whether these women are married.

The Germans are trying to count the languages that are spoken in their new •colonial possessions. In East Africa they have found fifty languages, in south-west Africa, twelve; in Gameroons, twenty; in Toga, five or six. Those figures do not include a large number of dialects which are almost equivalent in some cases to another language. The Germans have no idea yet how many languages are spoken in their South Sea possessions, but they have thus far counted fifty. Their missionaries and agents are hard at work reducing the languages which are most used to writing and making dictionaries of them. In Michigan it is unlawful for railway companies to neglect to block the frogs on their roads, so that the feet of employees may not be caught therein. A switchman, while uncoupling cars, had his feet caught in an unblocked frog and was injured. He sued for damages, and proved that other frogs in the yard were unblocked and that the yardmaster had been notified of their condition. The court decided that it was no defence that the company had employed men to keep *ll frogs blocked, and that proper material had been furnished for that purpose, because the negligence of the employees was the negligence of the company.

A facetious English paper not long ago started a discussion as to the probability of Mr. Gladstone’s living to be 200 years of age. He has now been taking an active part in politics for sixty years. Before he entered political life he spent a season in acquiring a rather comprehensive education, and for a dozen or more years before that ho was engaged in simply growing. Since he became a recognized power in the affairs of England he has seen a generation rise and fall. Many times his numerous and wholehearted enemies have prophesied a near failure of his physical and mental powers. Many times at political crises certain and overwhelming defeat has been foretold for him. And each time he has come out at the end with faculties unimpaired and a courage which defeats seemed only to strengthen. A paper on “The Administration of the Imperial Census of 1801 in India,” by Mr. Jervoise Athelstane Baines, I. C. 8., cheife census commissioner for India, was read before the Indian section of the Society of Arts lately. In India, he said, the census was taken in at least seventeen languages, several of which required forms in more than one character. A rough calculation indicated that between eighty and ninty millions of forms were issued. Taking only those that were probably used, it was found that they weighed about 290 tons, and would cover, if spread out, an area of 1,300 acres, and if put end to end would stretch over 15,000 miles, or more than from India to England and back. There were 950,000 enumerators, and there was practically a double enumeration; the first being the original one, the second a test of it; so that the chances of accuracy were very good. ,

A road experiment has been going forward in Union county, New Jersey. The new roads—called Telford roads—extend from Elizabeth west to Plainfield, and from Rahway north to Springfield and Summit, connecting with all the other townships, and intersecting at Westfield, the center of Union county. It is said of these roads that a traveler can drive a carriage, ride a bicycle, or go on foot from the county seat to any point in the county without soiling the tire of a wheel or the sole of a shoe. The practical result is that burdens three times as heavy heretofore as can be hauled on these roads with the same horsepower, and with far less wear and tear to vehicles. The Christian Union says that since the construction of these improved roads the country through which they pass has changed as if by magic, and central New Jersey is developing by reason of them at a rate before unknown in half a century. Agricultural lands have advanced in value twice the cost of the roads already, while lands suitable for villas a: d other building purposes have increased more largely in proportion. At some points the advance has been as great as 50 per cent, on former values, and at others the increase has been even a hundred per cent.

National restaurants are to be a feature of the World’s Fair. Nearly every foreign government that has decided to make a display at the Exposition has also arranged, through its representatives, for a restaurant in which refreshments will be served as they are at home. In most cases native attendants will be in charge of the restaurants. The German, French, English and other European commissioners have practically closed arrangements for these cases. Visitors from the New England states will be agreeably surprised when they reach Jackson park to learn that a genuine New England clam-bake is to be operated at the Fair. The company that has secured the privilege of operating this establishment will spend $30,000 in constructing an artistic building. The structure, as planned, is two storied, with a casino roof. It occupies a commanding site over on the lake shore, near England’s building. The food will be cooked in the same way it is in New England coast resorts, which are patronized by thousands of people. During the Fair two special refrigerator care will arrive every day with a supply of clams, lobsters and seafish. The building will be finished in time to give a reception to New Englanders when the buildings are dedicated in October. Facilities will be provided to serve 10,000 people a day during the Fain The camels that were brought to this country before the war to be used by our army as draft animals in the desert* of the Southwest arc still to be seen—or rather their descendants—roaming the sands of Arizona between Yuma and Ehrenburg on the north and south and Wickenburg and the Colorado River on the east and west. The herd has increased to more than sixty, although many of the animals have been taken away by circus-men and others have been killed by prospectors. As “ships of the desert” they were a failure, the pebbles and rocks of the foothills proving too hard on their feet, which became so sore that they were filially turned looso to shift for themselves. In those days there were no white men to speak of in the region of the Arizona desert, and the wanderers had nothing to fear from Indians, who superstitiously gave them a wide berth. Not so the prospectors when they came. Their high-spirited little mustangs were so often stampeded at the sight of the long-necked and unwieldy beasts that the riders found it convenient to take a shot at them whenever opportunity offered. A prospector, writing of his first experience with the expatriated carrels, says: “we wore coming through a vast expanse of greaseweed, almost as high as my head, when suddenly the burro stopperl, raised his head and gave a snort that could have been heard half a mile. I thought it must be Indians, and, throwing a cartridge into my Winchester, took cover in the brush. Peeping over the top of the weeds, I soon saw the camels coming with their peculiar, swinging trot, showing only their heads and humps above the brush. That burro evinced more life than I had ev»r seen him show before, and I do not think any horse in the country could have outrun him. My pack broke in the first hundred yards, and meat, beans, coffee, anil tools were scattered for five miles. The camels went on their way, and it was several years until I saw any of them again, when one of them was captured and brought into Phmnix, where it finally died.” He thinks the Government ought to take step* to protect the camels against malicious injury by trappers and prospector*.

A WOMAN’S HANDS.

She Uses Thein Very DlfTerenUy From the Girl of Sixteen. There is nothing so great an indication of maturity as the way a woman uses her hands. She has outgrown the period when hands and feet seemed only to have been bestowed to continually remind her that she was in possession of. something she positively did not know what to do with, and as a result she took to sitting upon her pedal extremities and awkwardly burying the other obstructive members in the folds of her gown or behind her back when anyone was present. Somehow, even when dressed in her very best for some festive gathering in the neighborhood, the mirror would persistently return a reflection that was very suggestive of hands and feet rather than of u pretty white gown and a smiling, youthful face übove it. In later years before full womanhood was reached, the feet were brought under control, but the hands still needed a handkerchief to hold, a fan to wave or a parasol to carry. They were not easy when empty, but when nt last the bnd blossomed into the lovely rose then at last came rest for the hands. The pretty members could hang listlessly graceful at her side or emphasize with easy gestures her sprightly conversation. The woman of twenty-five had gained the repose that the girl of sixteen lacked, and nowhere is it shown » ore plainly than in the action of the hands, for though in motion they have lost the nervous and hesitating manner that showed the self-conscious-ness of the novice, which in later years is swallowed up in the assurance of a woman of the world. At a masquerade not long ago a plump and pretty woman assumed the costume of the peasant girl. Her little feet, trim ankles and lithe, girlish figure gave everyone the impression that the fair masker was indeed a girl in her first youth, until a gentleman who was watching her attentively, noticed the movement of the pretty childish hands. “She is not a girl,” he cried, “but a woman of twentyfour or five at least,” and thus it proved, for when the masks were removed the peasant girl proved to be a gay young matron nearer thirty than twenty.

Modern Artificial Limbs.

One of the greatest improvements of modern times is the construction of artificial limbs that are far ahead of the oldfashioned stump of a wooden limb. Years ago amputation was not performed as freely as to-day, the benefit of the doubt being given to the patient that the limb might be saved. When a limb shows signs of mortification, amputation is done at once to save the stump of the limb. By so doing the patient can have cork iimbs fitted in place that will be almost as good as the original one. They are light and easy of movement, and, in the case of cork legs, it is almost impossible to tell them when one is walking. By means of cork, springs, hinges, and rubber, perfect legs and feet are formed so that the joints are capable of the same movement as the original one. The instep of the foot bendsand gives, the toes spread apart and come back into position when the foot is taken from the ground, and in short a good imitation of nature is observed all the way through. Under such improvements it is better to have a crushed foot amputated at once than to run the risk of having mortification ruin the whole leg, and probably cause endless misery and finally death.— [Yankee Blade.