Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 April 1895 — Page 5

Silence

By Miss Mulock

CHAPTER Xl—Continued. “Not quarreled, only differed,” answered he, laughing. “And I suppose all people do differ, and yet love one another to the end. You love me still?”

“Yes”—with a sudden gravity—“because I respect you. I think there is one only thing which could kill my love—ls I ceased to respect you. I should do my duty still, but all love would go dead out, like a fire when ene tramples on it. And then I think no power on earth could ever light it up again.” “God forbid!” Roderick said, startled by a kind of sad sternness which came into the gentle face. But it did him good, after all, to feel that there was that in his wife which would never suffer any man to make her either into a plaything or a slave. The next minute she had slipped her hand into his. “Don’t let us talk such nonsense, my Roderick; you will always love me and hold me fast I can bear anything so long as you hold me fast” He did hold fast, and through more trials than she guesed. To his sensitive nature, the continual dread of meeting Rleherden people—old acquaintances who might speak to him or her of painful things—became a perfect bugbear. And though Mrs. Grierson, with her usual delicate tact bad managed to let him understand that his o’Sjrn family had all returned to town—that is, Rleherden—for the winter, still he caught himself looking into every carriage that passed along the one beautiful seaside road, every steamer that stopped at the now half-deserted quay, with a nervous anxiety lest he should see some familiar face; familiar still, but welcome no more. Suppose he did meet them—he only said “them” without individualizing—what should he do? Would nature and Instinct triumph over reason, so that he could not ignore them, his own flesh and blood, look and pass by, as if they were common strangers? And once, Silence, who after a time began to divine his unspoken thoughts, brought him face to face with them by a sudden question, put with a tender anxiety, but very earnestly. “Roderick, I have often wanted to ask—what should you do if you were to meet your mother?" “If we were to meet her, you mean; for we are never apart.” In truth he took care they never should be apart, lest somebody or something should chance to wound her, the defenseless creature whom every day he felt more bound to cherish, and concerning whom his indignation continually higher rose. A “tragedy in a teapot” may be, but none the less a tragedy that was always coming between them and the sun; and worse here, after a little, when the first pleasantness of the change had worn off—worse certainly than at Blackball. By and by, he spoke of going back to Blackhall, but good Mrs. Grierson entreated they would stay on a little longer. “It would do your wife good, and me too,” she said. “Remember I have no daughter, and she no mother.” “That is true, poor child!” And he looked sadly across to where, in sweet unconscious peace, Silence sat, making with her deft fingers a cap for the old lady.

“Why call her 'poor?' Pardon me, my dear Roderick, but may I ask one question—has your mother ever seen your wife?” “No.” “She ought to see her. Do you not think so?” “What do you mean, Mrs. Grierson? But, excuse me, this is a subject upon which we had better not speak.” “I agree with you, and should never have spoken,” said the old lady nervously, “were it not almost my duty to tell you that Mrs. Jardine is at Fairfield, close by, come unexpectedly on a three days’ visit She may not come to see me, and she may. If she does ” “We will leave immediately,” said Roderick, rising. “Indeed, my dear Mrs. Grierson, it is much better so. We should grieve to cause you a moment’s inconvenience.” “My dear,” laying her hand on his arm, and looking at him with sweet calm eyes that were so near the other world as to have half forgotten the sorrows of this, “ my dear, I knew you as soon as you were born. Forgive an old woman who never had a child; but mothers are mothers—don’t you think that instead of going away, you should rather stay, on the chance of seeing your mother?” “See my mother? what, she— But, indeed, I cannot talk over these things, which, I suppose, you know all about Everybody does know everybody else’s affairs in Rlcherden.” “Yes, I know.” “Then it is kind not to have spoken to me before. Let us continue that wholesome silence. Let me take my wife and go.” “Suppose your wife and I were to settle that question. She is the dearest little woman in the world. I only wish I had her for my daughter. Wornen'understand women best,” she added with a gentle smile. “I think, my dear boy, you had better walk away.” Roderick did not walk away, but he suffered Mrs. Grierson to go over and speak to his wife. Finally, the ice once broken, they were able to talk over these painful things all three together. The younger ones poured out their grief and wrath; at least Roderick did; Silence said nothing. The older woman listened patiently and tenderly, yet took a little the opposite side, for there are two sides to every subject, and those are the wisest people who in youth can see . with old—in ago with young eyes. Deep as her sympathy was, seventy views things a little different from twenty-seven. The warm, motherly heart could not choose but put Itself In i' i . 1

the mother's place—the mother who had so wholly lost, or persuaded herself she had lost, her beloved and only son. “I have known Mrs. Jardine ever since her marriage," Mrs. Grierson explained to Silence. “She is a woman of Strong prejudices, strong passions, but generous and kindly; doing wrong tilings sometimes, as we all do, but doing them with the best intentions, which not all of us do. But I beg your husband's pardon for criticizing his mother, who is so totally opposite to his wife that, on the principle that extremes meet, I should not wonder if, when you do meet, you were to like one another amazingly.” Roderick made no answer; but whether he believed it or not, the idea certainly seemed to comfort him. He listened with patience that surprised himself to a further homily and many gentle arguments; ending with one which youth is slow to understand, that life is too short for anything but love and peace. Yielding, at last, to her earnest entreaty, and to the mute appeal of bis wife’s eyes, Roderick consented that Mrs. Grierson should write a brief note to his mother, mentioning formally what guests she had in her bouse, and how happy she would be to see Mrs. Jardine, “were it convenient and agreeable.” The next six hours, spent within doors—they shrunk from the chanoes of the road without—were not very happy hours to any of the trio. It was nearly night—a red, stormy sunset fading over the sea, the “white horses” rising, a gale beginning to blow and dash the waves wildly against the rocks under the drawingroom windows. Roderick and Silence had been watching the twilight shadows upon the mountains, beyond which lay Blackhall and home. “I almost wish we were at home,” she whispered; and he had put his arms tenderly round her, when suddenly Mrs. Grierson entered with a letter in her hand. “Read that, my dears. It is, I own, rather surprising." It was—from a mother. “Mrs. Jardine’s compliments to Mrs. Grierson, and she does not intend going out today; but if Mr. Roderick Jardine has anything to say to her he may come, provided he comes alone, at ten o’clock to-morrow.”

These brief lines were passed round, and then the three regarded one another, doubtful who should speak first, and still more doubtful what to say. At last Roderick, pressing his hostess' hand, bade her not to be troubled, She had done her best. “But you see, dear Mrs. Grierson, that I was right. We had better go home.” “And not go and see your mother?” “Certainly not without my wife. Dear,” turning to her affectionately, “we did not have it in our Swiss marriage service, though, I believe, it is in the English one; but there is a text—‘What God bath joined together let no man put asunder.’ I do not mean to be put asunder from my wife—not even by my mother.” . He spoke smilingly, caressing her the while, but Silence burst into tears. “And it is I that have been the cause of this —I, who Does she know, Roderick, that my mother is dead? And would any one whose mother is dead wish to keep a son away from his living mother? Go to her with or without me—only go!” Roderick thought differently. To him it appeared the most arrant cowardice; desertion of the wife he had deliberately chosen; acknowledgment of an error he had never committed. Besides, it was a weak truckling to the stronger side—the wealthier side. “For (you may not know it, Mrs. Grierson, though it seems to me that everybody does get to know everything, especially at Rleherden) my mother's money is all in her own hands; and I —we—are as poor as church mice.” Mrs. Grierson smiled. “Money is a good thing and a bad thing, but not half such an important thing as some folks imagine. It need not hinder a man from going to see his own mother.”

Roderick winced slightly. “Then you think my pride wrong?” “Not pride for her,” with a tender glance at Silence. “But as for yourself —a man satisfied of his own real motives should be indifferent to any imputed ones. That is not his concern at all.” “You are right—l admit it. Still, as to my wife ” But Silence flung herself, in one or her rare outbursts of emotion, on her knees beside her husband. “Go, I beseech you, go! She Is alive—you can hear her speak—you can make her understand you love her. Oh, Roderick, you don’t know what it is to call when there is none to answer—to weep when there is none to comfort you. Go, go! You have no idea what it is to feel that one’s mother is dead!” He kissed and comforted her into calmness; but something struck and startled him, something which, under all her sweet cheerfulness, he had never found out before—that mystery of being “acquainted with grief.” He himself had known vexation, annoyance, disappointment—but sorrow, heart sorrow he had never known. She had. Young as she was, he felt from that hour that in many things his wife was both older and wiser than he. “I will do exactly as you wish,” he said. “Mrs. Grierson, will you write to my mother, and say I shall be with her at the appointed hour? But, remember it is wholly and solely because my wife desires it” So he went When he came back, which was almost Immediately, he sat down beside Silence, and kissed her without a word. “Well, my love, 1 have done as youwished, and—there Is an end of it.” “What did she say?" “We bad neither of us an opoortuuity of saying anything. She had, br discovered, Important business at Kicberden, and left at 8 this morning ” “Without any letter or message?” “Without one single word. And now, my wife, that page is turned over. Let us close the book and begin again. Is it not best, Mrs. Grierson?” The old lady hesitated. There were tears in her kindly eyes. "It shall be best,” said Roderick, firmly. “Cones, my darling, set us

thank our dear friend here for all bet goodness to us. Let us pack up our boxes and return to Blackhall.” To Roderick, as perhaps to most men, anything was easier than a thing uncertain. He recovered in spirits sooner than Silence, who was greatly distressed, could at all have expected. Perhaps, like many of us, having resolved to do a painful thing, he was not sorry when fate stepped in to prevent bis doing it And he listened patiently to Mrs. Grierson's arguments against rashly judging what might have been pure accident or unavoidable necessity. “We shall see,” he said. “In the meantime, need we say any more. My wife and I have an equal dislike to talking it over. Let us all forget it, and spend a happy last day together.” It was happy, and the next day, too. Mrs. Grierson, who, while consenting to their departure, had sorely regretted it, had accompanied him a part of the way on their journey, and made it as easy as she could. Her farewell words, too, were given with unmistakable, earnest affection. “Roderick, take care of your wife.” He did take care of her, with an instinct nefc, but strangely sweet. Most men have passion in them; many have a kindly good-nature, and a sort of ever-craving affectionateness which passes for love; but very few have that tenderness —that generous devotion of the strong to the weak, the helpful to the helpless, which constitutes the highest manliness, and which is best described by the scripture phrase, “I was an husband unto them.” Roderick had it Lovely as the day was—one of those rare late autumn days which in Scotland make earth look like paradise—and beautiful as was the scenery through which they passed. Silence was so tired with her journey that for the last few miles she lay with her head on Roderick's shoulder, scarcely speaking a word, and only rousing herself when she saw, glimmering like stars in the distance, the window of Blackball. “Ah!” she sighed, “that must be home.” “ ‘East or west, home *is best.’ ‘Home is home, be it ever so homely,’ ” said Roderick, as he lifted her in-doors, and sat her in the large arm-chair by the blazing fire, seeing nothing, heeding ’nothing, except the little pale face which to him was so infinitely dear. Not until tea was over and her cheerful smile had fully returned, did he notice, among the small heap of papers lying waiting for him, the fatal well-known book-packet—the MS. returned. He tried to cover it over, and not let his wife see it, but her eye was too quick. Vain, too, was the innocent deception of his protest that he “fully expected this,” and “did not care.” “But I care,” said Silence, mournfully. And then the poor young things sat down face to face with their bitter disappointment, and tried to bear it as well as they could. (To be continued.)

Old Autocrat.

William King, the first Governor of Maine, who waj a resident of hath for over fifty year-, must have been a royal dictator in town affairs. There was "no nonsenre” about him. and no toleration of nonsense. At one time a meeting wa, held to arrange for a celebration of Independence Day, and General King presided. The custon ary res lutiocs were prepared by Judge Ames, who was a man of wide attainment?, and who had seized upon the occesion as an opportunity to air his rhetorical gifts. He had written a long and flowery preamble to his resolutions, which had been greatly admired b his friends; but he had hardly completed reading the first sentence before the meeting when General King exclaimed, in his decisive way: “Never mind the preamble, Judge: never mind the preamble. It’s always about the same thing, you know. Give us the resolutions.” Cne morning, when the stage drpve up to his door and his wife was about t > enter it, the General discovered inside the vehicle a Frenchman and his dog. "Driver,” he thundered,, “take this dog out.” The frightened foreigner leaped from the stage, taking his dog with him. “I have seen the King of England and the King of France," he muttered, “but this King of Bath is the biggest king I ever saw." Although he was friendly to the cause of temperance, he never gave up the use of wine, and always had it on his own table. Yet so abiolute wa? he in his way of thinking,that he had no patience with the “trimmers” who waver between two sides of a question. A certain judge was one day dining with him, and refused wine on the ground that he was a member of a temperance society. Melons were breught in at dessert, and the General prepare! hi? with wine. The guest did the same. A short time after, a physician was dining with the General. and he, too, refused wine. “Won't ysu have a spoon, Doctor?” asked Gene al King bluffly. “Judge Blank was dining with me recently, and he wouldn't drinx my wine, but he ate it with a spoon.”—Youth s Com* panion.

The Women of Ushant.

In character the headdress is more Italian than Breton. The coif is small and' square-shaped, with a wide flap hanging down behind, and it is white when the wearer considers herself dressed and not in mourning. Bright colors, chiefly scar et and blue, are often introduced at the side of the head, especially in the case of children. But the strong singularity of the coiffure is the manner in wnich the hair is worn. It hangs loose unon the back of the neck to the length of six or eight inches. The first impression the w?men make is that they are recovering from a fever and a cropping. Their hair is generally lank and wiry, like a horse’s mane, and very dark. It is rare to see it really gray, even on the head of a very old wo i an. The short and thick locks are often without a Silver thread, although the face of the wearer may be as furrowed a? a block of sea-worm granite. Baby giris, young women) and old women have their heads dressed in exactly the same way/ After her swaddling wraps, the child is given the style of coif and other clothing that she will keep through life; consequently, as she toddles about in front of the cottage door, she is one of the oddest of little figures. In'full dross the gown is always black, bit a brilliantly colored handkerchief, in which scarlet predominates, is so worn underneath as to show a little down the front of the bodice. A small shawl, generally blue or red in the case of children and yonng completes the costume.—Temple

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

BVSY SPRING. finch a flurry, such a scurry, Such a hurry in the trees ; finch a whirring and a stirring. Birds as brisk as busy bees; Nests are building, ’tis important, If you please! Such a tripping, such a skipping, Such a slipping o’er the stones; finch a flashing and a dashing, Such a melody of tones; Brooks are hasting to the ocean, Where it moans. So much learning, so much earning. So much tracing mete and bound; to much telling, counting, spelling, Till the dizzy head turns round; Patience, child, it is important; So is knowledge found.

EASTER EGGS. •*O Maggie, I am so glad you have come to see mo to-day!” said Lulu, as she ran to meet her little friqpd who rode over with her papa on aload of hay which he was taking to town. Maggie had on her new, rod frock and white apron with a ruffle all around and carried her doll “Clarissa Belle,” close in her arms “See,” said Maggie, “I have brought Clarissa Belle; won’t we have lots of fun?” “Let’s not play with dolls to-day, because I have something better. You know to-morrow is Easter. Yesterday mamma got me a whole box of paints and she says I can have half a dozen eggs to paint for Easter because I went to the dentist and had that horrid old double tooth pulled that was so full of aches and pains.” Lulu ran and got her paint box and the little girls went down to the kitchen together. Mamma spread a newspaper on the table and told Lulu to get two of her old long sleeved aprons, one for herself and one for Maggie. The little girls were soon ready for work and mamma placed a little basket of eggs on the table and left them to amuse themselves. “What a lot of eggs,” said Maggie. “Let’s see how many there are; one two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. 0, how splendid!” “Here are two paintbrushes,” exclaimed Lulu. “They must have known two little girls would want to paint at the same time. What color are you going to paint yours?” “Let’s paint one two colors.” “All right, I’ll paint mine red and blue.” “I’ll paint mine just like yours,” said Maggie. The young artists soon executed their designs in red and blue, and each received a great deal of praise from the other. Four more eggs were painted and all set aside to dry. Only two remained in the basket. “Howshall we paint these?” asked Maggie. ‘‘The last ones must be the prettiest of all.” “I’ll tell you what we will do,’’ said Lulu. ‘‘Mrs. Jones has company, a lady and a little girl, and I expect the little girl will not have any Easter eggs at all, because you know Mrs. Jones is poor. Now let’s paint these two eggs just as pretty as ever we can and give them to that; little girl. ’’ This plan was readily agreed to. It took some time to decide what color should be used. But the eggs were finally finished to their satisfaction. “Which is the prettiest?” asked Maggie. “I don’t know; they are both so pretty,” answered Lulu, looking first at one and then at the other. “I think one is just as pretty as the other.” And I think you would have said so, too, for one was red and blue and yellow, and the other was yellow and blue and red. Lulu went to get her mother’s permission to take them over to the little stranger. But Mrs. Gray, thinking the little girls would be occupied all the afternoon, had gone out to see a sick neighbor. Lulu came back and said, “I can’t find mamma, but I know she would let us go. We must hurry, for your papa will come for you pretty soon, and you will have to go home.” So, without oven stopping to take off their aprons, they put on their bonnets and went “across lots” towards Mrs. Jones’ humble cottage. Queer looking objects they were with their hands and faces as well as their aprons marked with every color in the paint box. Mrs. Jones was trying to entertain her sister, Mrs. Evans and Mabel, who had come from the city to make her a visit. But she found itdifficult to amuse the child who had been accustomed to every luxury heart could wish. Mabel stood by the window and saw our little girls coming across the meadow. “Who are they, auntie?” she asked. .“One of them must be Deacon Gray’s little girl. Perhaps they are coming to see you. Lulu Gray is a nice little girl, and you will like to play with her.” Mabel went with her auntie to the door. She could hardly help laughing at the little gypsies. But her good breeding saved her from being rude. Lulu, when she saw the little girl dressed in silk, forgot what she meant to say and looked at Maggie; but Maggie was even less prepared than Lulu to make a speech. So Lulu stammered out: “We brought some Easter eggs that we painted,, but we must go right back 'cause mamma don’t know we came.” Mabel took the eggs and thanked the girls very politely, but they would not go into the house. ‘ ‘What do you suppose she thought of our eggs?” asked Lulu, as soon as they were out of hearing. “I don’t know. Oh, there is a lot of paint on your face!” “There is on yours too. Just look at these horrid old aprons. Oh, dear! ’ ’ iland they ran toward home as fast as they could. When they got back Lulu’s mamma had returned and inquired where they had been. Lulu told her all about it. Mrs. Gray tried to look sober but smiled in spite of herself, as she told them they bad better not do good deeds without permission. Mrs. Gray knew that Mrs. Evans was rich and proud and thought she ought to send an explanation, but wisely concluded that the matter would explain itself. Easter morning Lulu Gray and

Maggie Dean each raceived a large, square envelope containing a beautiful silk fringed Easter card, accompanied by an invitation from Mabel Evans to visit her whenever they camo to the city.

Fields Open to Women.

One gets a little bit tired of reading of “another field open to woman” and of hearing men quote Dr. Johnson’s famous and ill-tempered remark apropos of dogs walking on their hind legs in this connection. Women by this time should have learned that the gate to every professional and industrial field is and always has been wide open. Some venturesome woman walks through one of these open gates and forthwith it is solemnly proclaimed throughout the length and breadth of the iand'that another field isopen to women. The only bar to woman’s entering any “field” is her lack of the necessary industrial or professional training. She is not perfect. There are many things she has not yet attained unto, but the bar to her progress comes not from without but from within. Truly her attainments in many fields and her competition with men in the arts, sciences, literature, the professions, business, and the trades have within this last century proved that she does not do many things ‘‘so badly.” We are informed by a lover of figures that there are 850 “fields” open to women to-day. Nonsense! Do these figures cover the total number of industrial and professional “fields” in existence? There may be only 850 fields which woman occupies, but that is quite another matter. There are, of course, many fields which it is not wise for woman to enter. Suppose a field is boggy and likely to soil her skirts, the wise woman will keep out of it unless absolutely forced in and then she will struggle through It somehow. Now, as to these “fields”—they are of all sorts, some large, some small. Aside from the professions, they are of countless number. For instance, at least one woman in this city keeps a real estate office, and rents, leases, buys and sells, making a specialty of renting either furnished or unfurnished flats. She does an excellent business. A number of women run laundries. Some money to carry on the business and a good understanding of first class work are requisite for this. In hotels women are now employed in more prominent positions than formerly. Hotel men speak very favorably of women holding such positions. Women buyers for large furnishing houses are also a great success of late years. Women drummers are equally successful, though their occupation is less pleasant in that it is always easy. The professions are all of them open to women—aye, and women have discovered the fact and entered in, Let us hear no more of new fields opening to the fair sex. when it is after all, not a question of the fields opening, but of the sex 4 entering.

How to Live Long.

Why not let’s all be centenarians. Dr. Richardson, an'eminent English scientist, says there is no reason why a large number of people may not live until they are a hundred or a hundred and twenty years old, and then have the bloom of youth on their cheeks. He advances the idea that the majority of people die for inadequate reasons, and with unnecessary promptitude, and that it would be a comparatively easy matter for us to acquire the art of living much longer than we do and of getting more physical enjoyment out of life. Briefly stated his Ideas of the means to be employed to attain such an end are a life of serene cheerfulness and scientific physical culture. He looks upon extreme physical vigor as an art to be learned like dancing or whist. The muscles may be cultivated like early vegetables, and with results almost as astonishing. Nobody need be afflicted with a torpid liver, imperfect lungs or flaccid muscles. In every man there is t. possible Hercules. Man may make his body a finely strung and exquisitely poised machine, with every part graceful in contour and in a state of perfect working efficiency, and this will result in the indefinite widening of the span of life. He argues that no man need be particularly abstemious in regard to the use of any particular food, all that is necessary is the cultivation of a happy disposition linked with plenty of sleep, physical exescise, and that all appetites shall be temperately indulged. Breathing should be done scientifically and a daily cold bath should bo taken.

Detecting Fire Damp by Sound.

A method of detecting fire damp by sound has been invented by M. Hardy and approved by the French academie des sciences. It is based on the fact that the sound emitted by an organ pipe varies according to the density of the air supplied. M. Hardy’s apparatus consists of two small pipes, the size. of a penny whistle, one of which is connected with the air in the mine and the other with the ventilator shaft. The presence of fire dump produces discord at once between the two sounds, which increases with the quantity of gas which can be measured. By this contrivance the presence of 1 part in 500 of fire damp can be detected.

A Cruel Wrong Inflicted on Sailors.

A sailor on a troopship informs me of a curious grievance from which he and his mates suffer. ‘‘The ship’s company is limited,” he writes, ‘‘to two parrots for each mess of about twelve men, and if these are not in uniform cages they are thrown overboard.” Tastes, of course, differ, but I should myself have thought an allowance of one parrot to every six men on board a troopship was not an unreasonably small one. ‘‘A. B.” evidently thinks otherwise, however, and this is not strange, perhaps, when it is remembered on the authority of Mr. F. C. Burnand’s once popular lyric, that Jack’s ‘‘heart is true to his Foil."

Metal Money as Currency.

Metal money is often inconvenient. It is too heavy, for one thing, to be used in large quantities. When this is true it is open to all the objections ♦bat are made against barter. It will not serve for currency in some transactions. By currency, I mean money and its representatives that pass from hand in daily transactions. Suppose, for example, that A should purchase property of B for SIOO,OOO. If A had nothing but gold in which to pay B, he would be obliged to buy a wagon and carry the price to Bin this expensive and troublesome manner. If there were nothing but gold • n this world, the man who goes into the central part of this State to buy butter and cheese, or in the wheat farms in the Northwest, would be obliged to carry with him chests of gold and an arsenal for his protection against .-obbers. Therefore paper currency and other representatives of money have been invented. And this paper is not confined to government notes and bank notes. It does not necessarily represent gold or silver, but it must be good for every dollar that it promises to pay, and more than that, it must be believed to be good by those who are asked to part with their goods for it. It includes promissory notes, drafts, bills of exchange, and the checks of individuals. All these things pass from hand to hand, and the paper obligations of private persons, it is estimated, furnish the tools with which nine-tenths of business transactions are carried on. All these paper obligations rest on coined money or property of some other kind. They pass in trade because it is believed that they will be redeemed. Paper representatives of money must be honest just as money itself must be honest.

Two Funerals.

That is a touching story told of the funeral of Sir Walter Scott. The road by which the procession took its way wound over a hill, whence can be seen one of the most beautiful of landscapes. It was his habit to pause there to gaze upon the scene, and when taking a friend out to drive ho never failed to stop there and call the attention of his companion to the most beautiful points of the view. Few could refrain from tears when, carrying their master on his last journey, the horses stopped at the old familiar spot as it were for him to look at the scene he had loved so well. Extremes meet. I told this anecdote of Scott's funeral to a friend, who, in turn, told me a story. A little loss thgn a century ago there lived in a certain New England village a graceless fellow, who spent most of his time at the grog shop, to the neglect of all honest callings. When nt last he died and the funeral procession, on its way to the place of burial, passed his favorite haunt, the bearers inadvertently tamed a little aside, at the sumo time slackening their pace. The wag of the neighborhood spoke hastily: “Goon! go tin!” said ho, “don’t stop hero, for mercy’s sake! He’ll bo sure to go in!”

Both Eyes on tho Same Side.

Some of the flat fish, including the sole, plaice, flounder, etc., arc tie only vertebrate animals with both their eyes on the same side of the head. When very young their eyes stand opposite to each other, and the whole body is then symmetrical, i'he fish swimming vertically in the water; but they cannot long retain this position owing to tho extreme depth of their bodies, the small size of their lateral fins, and to their being destitute of a swim bladder. As they grow older they come to rest in moaj; cases on the left side and soon the eye proper to the lower side begins to slide slowly round the head until both eyes are on tho upper side, where they remain, a process of bone growing across so as to make a bony socket for the left eye which has moved. At one time it was thought that the lower eye passed through the head and came out at the upper side, but it is now known that it passes round, and the movement seems to bo caused by the constant effort the fish makes to look up with the lower eye when on its side on the ground.

Canned Goods Legend.

For many years the English looked with deep suspicion at American canned goods, believing them to be a purely Yankee notion; a longing pardonable enough in the millionaire who had hot houses, but dark error on the part of his poor neighbor. They did not know, nor, indeed, is it generally known, that canning really began 2,000 years and more ago, but is none the less a Yankee discovery or rediscovery; for it was a party of Cincinnatians who, visiting Pompeii when the excavations were just beginning many years ago, found in the pantry of a house just uncovered many jars of preserved figs. One was opened, and they were found to be perfectly fresh and good. Careful examination showed that the figshad been put into the jars while hot, an aperture left for the steam to escape, and the hole sealed with wax. A wise man took the hint, and the next year canning was introduced into the JL’nitod Statesand has grown into the enormous industry it now represents.

Clinker Paving.

A new road-making material is produced at Hornsey, a suburb oi London, by collecting and burning the dirt of the district, which leaves considerable residue in the shape of clinker. The coarser of this is an excellent material for road making. The fin.er clinker is put into a mortar mill and mixed with linqe or cement-, and used as mortar and grouting. There ■S still a great deal of clinker left, and this is mixed with a fair quantity of Portland cement, piaking excellent paving stones, at ai>but half the cost of those purchased from the patent stone makers. A section of Southwood lane, Highgate, at the entrance to the railway station, has been paved with this material, and is said to Fear exceedingly well.

HUNTING FOR MONAZITE.

A New Industry In the Piedmont Section of North Carolina The enthusiasm with which the search for monazite is now being prosecuted in the Piece tout section of North and South Carolina is something remarkable. Men, women and children talk about it, dream about it, search for it, and would perhaps eat it if it could be prepared so that it would be palatable. For 200 years tho planters on the coast stumbled over phosphate rock, which had been brought to the surface, and considered it of no value. Finally, after the late war, a man of scientific turn of mind began to investigate this rock, and as a result an industry has sprung up that now amounts to millions of dollars annually. In like manner gold miners year after year in their search for gold along the streams of this Piedmont section have been finding in their pans a heavy yellowish sand, which they cast aside as worthless. This has all been completely reversed in the last twenty months, and nowadays a prospector will cast aside fair specimens of gold while prosecuting his search for monazite. To obtain monazite from the hundred little streams that are found in the monazite belt the prospector sets out provided with shovel and pan. With his shovel he scoops out a hole in the bed of the stream or near by it. He goes through the alluvial deposit until he strikes a whitish sand and gravel Of this he takes a panful and washes it out, carefully examining quantity and quality. After prospecting in several different places he is able to decide whether the “branch,” as these small streams are called in the South, is worth working. If it promises well a trial is made. The top soil is stripped oft from a small area until the monazite stratum is reached. That sand is taken out and carefully washed, and if the results are satisfactory then work is begun.

Contractors do most of the mining, taking leases and paying a royalty of from one-seventh to one-fifth. Occasionally the monazite privilege is bought straight out, and in some instances S2OO an acre has been paid. Sometimes, however, the owners work their own lands. Common, unskilled laborers are smployed to do the work. “Strippers” are the hands who clear away the top soil, removing all timber growing thereon. The gravel gang comes next. They carefully lift out all of the monazite sand and turn it over to the washers, who get out all gravel, silver and clay, leaving u mixture of heavy material behind. This goes through a second washing, and the material left is marketable monazite. The washing Is done in a wooden trough from 12 !>o 18 feet in length, 12 inches wide and 12 deep. There is a cast iron perforated plate at the upper end of the box, through which the monazite drops, while the lighter stuff and clay Hoat away. A stream of water flows through the box. Expert washers receive $1 a day, but there are plenty of men who do this work fairly well and are anxious to work at 05 cents per day. Overseers and timekeepers receive $1.50. This is considered fair wages down South, where there is little demand for day labor now.

The sand is about as current as gold dust, six cents a pound being the average price. It is estimated that a group of well managed hands will make twice their daily wages. Letters of inquiry come from all countries seeking information about monazite, and, judging by the number and character of these received by the geological survey from various European countries, the Industry and the amount of money brought Into this Piedmont section for monazite this year, will hardly amount to less than SIOO,OOO. Monazite has been found in small quantities in Russia, Norway, Bohemia, and in gold washings in Brazil and in the mica veins at Quebec, but nowhere has it been found in such enormous quanties as in this bed. A Gloucester, N. J., company is the only concern manufacturing monazite in this country. The value of sand depends upon the rare metal, thorium, which it contains, which is separated from the associated material by very complicated chemical processes, which are kept secret from everyone except those who manipulate the operations. It is then used in the manufacture of incandescent gas burners of different forms. The finding of monazite is the best thing that has ever occurred for the poorer people of the section in which it is found. Hundreds of day laborers are now feeding their families with the money made in this industry.

The Soldiers’ Homes.

There are seven soldiers’ homes, called national, and supported by the government. They are as follows : Northwestern, Milwaukee, Wis.; Central, Dayton. O.; Eastern, Togus, Me.; Southern, Hampton, Va.; Marion, Marion, Ind.; Western, Leavenworth, Kan. ; Pacific, Santa Monica, Los Angeles, Cal. There are many other homes supported by State governments and called State homes: Yountville, Cal.; Monte Vista, Col.; Norton Heights, Conn.; Quincy. III.; Marshaltown, la.; Dodge City, Kan.; Chelsea, Mass.; Grand Rapids, Mich.; Minnehaha, Minn.; Grand Island, Neb.; Tilton, N. H.; Kearny’N.J.; Bath, N. Y.; Sandusky, 0.; Erie, Pa.; Bristol, R. I.; Hot Springs, S. D.; Bennington, Vt.; Orting, Wash., and Waupaca, Wis -

What Culture Means.

There is a mistaken idea that ‘‘culture” means to paint a little, to sing a little, to dance a little and to quote passages from late popular books. As a matter of fact, culture means nothing of the kind. Culture means mqstery over self—politeness, charity, fairness, good temper, good conduct. Culture is not a thing to make a display of. It is something to use so modestly that, people do .not discover all at once that you I have it.