Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 July 1895 — Page 4

jL SONG OF OLD DAYS. Oh. days of the past, with your glory, ■Cone back to my heart once more Oh,days, with your song and your story. Come back to my heart once more ! For there’s never a heaven so sweet to see As the beautiful heaven you made for me, The song and the sunlight—the bird and the bee’. Oh, days of the past, come back to me! Oh, days of the past, with your splendor, Come back to my heart once more ! With your kissing and carrolings tender, Come back to my heart once more ! For there’s never a vessel that sails the sea As dear as the ships that came to tne: And the lighthouse is darkened, and ever will be— Oh, days of the past, come back to me! Oh, days of the past, with your flowers, Come back to my heart once more Oh, days of the beautiful hours. Come back to my heart once more ! For there’s never a day that my life may see As sweet as the days of the past to me: I drift like a vessel that’s lost at sea — Oh, days of the past, come back to me —Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution.

ONE WOMAN'S LOVE.

BY JESSIE FORSYTH CLINE.

“You are free, my darling, as free as lam innocent. The law detains me, but there is no law which binds you to a convict husband. Remember, Elizabeth, you are free.” “O, Herbert! No, no, I can never be free in this world or in the next —never freed from my great love for you.” “Then you do love me, in spite of all?” he entreated, raising her face that he might read her eyes. Her answer was to catch his hands in both her own and press her lips tenderly, passionately, upon each broad palm. “Elizabeth, if you indeed love me, say the words, ‘Herbert, I believe you innocent,’ ” he begged. But his own heart beating away the seconds was all he heard. Finally he spoke again. “You do not care for me? What is love without faith? My God, thou hast indeed afflicted me! I thought the jurors bloodhounds because they did not believe my testimony, but if my wife doubts—”he could not finish, but sank into a chair, letting his head fall upon his chest, his whole attitude one of despair. “Herbert, my husband, I did not say I believed you guilty,” sobbed Elizabeth, throwing her arm s around his great form and pressing him to her breastHerbert Norton abandoned himself to her endearments as he had to his “I’oor little wife,” he said, drawing her to his knee. “It is so much harder for you than it would be if you trust«d me as I trust you. Do you think, •darling, if I saw you do a dishonorable deed I should believe my own •eyes? No. I should say, ‘My faculties are playing me false, not Elizabeth.’ I should doubt my reason before I could my wife.” “Stop, stop, Herbert, I cannot bear it. Ido not believe you guilty, and yet—” “You are a tender judge convinced against your will,” interrupted the man, “and I forgive you. Some time you will know that I am innocent, if it is not until the judgment day. “Yes, my love, I believe you now. I have been mad. You are innocent! How could my faith have been shaken for one moment?”

'‘Mamma, are you going out to-' day? O surely you are not. Ido so hate these Fridays; I thought you •would surely stay at home to-day. See how it rains—and you know the .umbrella is no better than a sieve. Tfit rained cats and dogs it might be a little protection, but anything -smaller than a kitten would find it -easy getting through that worn covering.” The speaker was a pretty girl of about 15. She stood with her arms thrown affectionately around her another's neck. ■“Where do you go every Friday, mamma? Cannot Igo in your place and carry the basket? It is such a big' basket, and you are so small. What big appetites the family must have, to whom you take the food so regularly,” she laughed. “Tell me -about them, mother, dear.” With a tender kiss the mother drew herself away and quietly prepared for a rainy day walk. “My Friday visits are not happy (occasions, dear,” she said, “and I do mot want to bring unhappiness, even the unhappiness of others into your life so early. Some day you shall come with me.” “You have already made me unhappy, mamma, by not letting me share your grief. I know how miserable something makes you every Friday. You go out looking quite bright fresh, but you come back —oh, so haggard.” “Do I look fresh, really, when I starton my errand, dear?” questioned

the slight, pale faced woman eagerly. '“That is well, and reminds me that I want you to pick me that new blown rose. lam glad if I can take a little sunshine into the gloom surrounding these poor people.” The girl picked the rose from the plant in the window and, lifting the •cover of the basket, which stbod upon ■the table, placed it on the snowy linen which hid the viands. “No, dear,” remonstrated her -mother; “put it on my coat, right bere. I want to wear it.” “How queer you are, mamma,” •exclaimed Bessie. “I believe you’re getting vain; but how out of place a flower looks on that common •old coat.” “‘lt is a pity more roses do not bloom in unexpected places, dear.” Bessie Stood at the window anti watched her mother until she disappeared down the road. There were tears in her eyes; two large drops fell upon the back of the cat, which sat upon the window ledge. Pussy rubbed her soft sides against bur mistress and purred sympathetically.

“Tabby, what do you think it means?” asked Bessie, sitting down and hugging her pet tightly in her arms. “Poor little old Puss, you’d tell me if you could, wouldn't you? You don’t want mamma sad any more than I do.” Puss purred softly. “Isn’t it funny, Tabby, how mamma goes away every Friday afternoon, with that basket full of good things to eat, things you and I seldom get, Tabby, because mamma says she can’t afford to give us goodies. But how can she afford to take jelly* and fruit and everything to that poor family? Can you tell, Puss? She dresses up, too, as if she were going to church, and always seems so excited. No matter how many people come to see her that day about orders, and no matter how much work she has on hand, she leaves everything and goes.” Just then a knock came at the door. Before Bessie could open it a woman entered. A small plaid shawl was thrown over her head and she carried a cracked teacup. “How d’ye do, Bessie,” she said. “I seen your ma goin’ down the street, an’ bein’ ez you wus alono thought I’d run over a spell; an’ I did want some sugar, es you could lend me a little. I thought as how your ma might have granoolated in the house after all her fine cdokin’. My sister wuz took wuss las’ night; can’t seem to settle any food, an’ I thought I’d beat her up a custard. How’s your ma these days; mopin’ ez us’al? ” The unexpected visitor babbled on, arranging herself comfortably before the fire. “Pretty lonesome fer you an’ your ma livin’ here all alone,” she continued. “You don’t seem to hev much company. Your ma never goes out 'cept Fridays, does she?’ Bessie wanted to say that her mother did not find congenial society in the neighborhood. She wondered how this woman knew about herself and her “ma.” She never came to the house, and Bessie knew she was a person of whom her mother disapproved. “How long has your pa been dead, child,” was the next blunt question. Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes. “O, Miss Gower, papa has been dead a long, long while, ever since I was a little child, but don’t ask me about papa ;it makes me feel so bad,” she cried. ‘Why?” questioned Miss Gower. “Why” repeated Bessie, “Why does it make any one feel badly to think of one’s dead father?”

“Most gener’lly because they recollect how good he wuz,” was the ambiguous reply. “An’ you surely don’t remember nothin’ about your pa?” “No,” sighed Bessie; “not much, but I’ve always wished that I did remember.” “I suppose your ma talks a good deal to you about him?” The questions were becoming intolerable. “No, she doesn’t. It makes her unhappy to talk about him. I used to ask her questions and questions, just like you are asking me, Miss Gower. I never knew before why it made her feel bad to be asked questions; now I know,”, said Bessie. “Hum,” muttered the spinster, the consonant held a long while behind her thin lips’. Bessie thought it would sound almost like pussy’s purr only it was disagreeable—a purr with a claw in it. 0 “These poor folks must be in awful straits to take your ma out sich a day ez this.” “And you must have wanted sugar very much, Nliss Gower, to have come out in such weather,” ventured Bessie; “and lam sorry we cannot oblige you about fine sugar. We use the light brown; if that will do you're welcome to it.” “You hain’t allers lived in Thomaston, hev you?” asked Miss Gower, when Bessie went into the pantry to fill the cup. No answer. “Seems ez though I’d heerd thet you used to live in Bangor. Whatever made your ma leave a lovely city like that to come to this little town?” For some unknown reason Tabby elevated her yellow back and gave a vicious little spit. "I told you the last time you were here that 1 was born in Bangor. I guess that is how you heard it, Miss Gower, and how mamma moved here i because she could not live in our old home, where she and papa had been so happy, without him, and how she thought she could live cheaper in a small place and maybe get more work. Mamma said when you wanted to know more come and ask her.”

Bessie came out of the pantry. “Hum,” said Miss Gower, and as her young hostess stood with the door open suggestively she could but take the hint and the offered cup of sugar and go, but not without a parting shaft. “Es you followed your ma some Friday when she went to visit them poor, folks, I guess you’d be surprised.’ “Pussy,"said Bessie, when she was alone with her confidante, “ we’ll have to go without sugar in our tea to-night, for I've given the last grain to that hateful woman ; but, dear, you do not need sweetening as much as she does.” Several weeks went by. Bessie could not help thinking of the last words Miss Gower had said to her •that rainy Friday afternoon; “Es you followed your ma some Friday when she went to visit, them poor folks, I guess you’d be surprised.” The vernacular of the ignorant woman came back to her again and again . Whatcould she have meant? What could the surprise be, forjudging from Miss Gower’s tone it would not be a pleasant one. Bessie was possessed of the old sin, curiosity. She had realized for a long while that hbr mother was keeping some sad secret, but until now it had been enough for her to know that her mother did not wish to tell her. Eyerything that mamma did was right, but now . She was angry with herselt for letting any insinuation that odious old maid had dared to make affect her.

One evening her mother did a very strange thing; she left Bessie all alone and went to see her friends. The next night she went again. “Forgive me, dear, for leaving you; and I may be gone until very late, as one of the family is dangerously ill. Shall I not get some one to stay with you? I cannot bear to leave you alone,” she said, when she kissed her good bye. “No, no, mamma, I’m not afraid, and Tabby is company for me,” said Bessie, and then burst out impetuously: “But O, mamma, do let me go with you, do, do. I know I should not be in the way, and perhaps I’d be a help.” Another kiss and tender embrace was the answer and the mother hastened away. The third evening Bessie’s curiosity mastered her. As soon as her mother left the cottage, she threw on a w’rap and followed. “I shall die if I do not find out what this secret is that is weighing on my poor mother’s mind and worrying away her life,” she cried, and hurried on block after block until the destination was reached, and Bessie saw where the poor family lived. The surprise was complete, and turning she fled home sobbing aloud. The only information she had gained w’asthat her trusted and honored mother haa deceived her. What mystery lay beyond the gate which her mother entered she knew not. She had not dared to pass in after her. When the mother returned the little clock on the kitchen shelf was striking twelve, but Bessie did not hear it and the mother did not heed it. The former lay prone upon the bed, deep in a troubled sleep; dressed, even to the dusty shoes which had carried her on her errand, the latter knelt by the bedside and Dressed her cold face to her daughter’s fevered cheek. In Bessie’s hand was clutched an old-fashioned case containing a photograph. * ‘Her father’s likeness. Poor little girl,” exclaimed the mother. Neither Bessie nor her mother read the newspapers much; in fact, they seldom bought one. Miss Gower must have known this, too, for one morning she came running across the garden, waving the morning paper in her hand. Bursting into the kitchen like a whirlwind, she panted: “0, Bessie, where’s your ma? Hev you read the paper?” “What do you mean. Miss Gower, what paper? ” questioned Bessie’s mother. “Here, look," cried Miss Gower, pointing to an item at the head o! one of the columns. Bessie glanced over her mother's shoulder, and this is what she read:

AFTER MANY YEARS. HERBERT NORTON, SENTENCED FOR FORGERY, PROVED INNOCENT. ALREADY SERVED TWELVE YEARS OF HIS FIFTEEN YEAR SENTENCE . GEORGE GRAHAM, AN EX-TELLER OF THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK, THE GUILTY MAN. A DEATH BED CONFESSION. They needed only the headlines to tell them the blessed meaning; then the paper fluttered to the floor and Mrs. Norton lay unconscious in her daughter’s arms. “My heavens! she hain’t dead, is she?” cried Miss Gower in affright as she helped Bessie to lay the unconscious form upon the couch. “O, no! God have mercy upon us. He cannot take her now. She has just begun to have something to live for,” exclaimed Bessie. “Run fer the doctor; ’taint no common faintin’ fit,” urged Miss Gower, working over the still insensible woman. Bessie ran for their physician, who fortunately happened to be just down the street with his horse and carriage. When they reached the cottage his professional services were not required, for Mrs. Norton was up and almost ready to go out; she was just tying her bonnet strings, under a very flushed face with trembling fingers. But the carriage was needed. “Get on your cloak, Bess, and I’ll drive you and your mother right down. I was on my way there, and if I saw him first I’d have to tell the news, and you two must do that,” said the cheery doctor. “Yes, my darling, come with me; I tried not to let you share my grief, but all my joys are yours,” said Bessie’s mother.

“And it was my father that you have been going to see; papa in prison?” Bessie asked, hardly understanding the mystery yet. “Yes, every Friday for twelve years.” “Can my husband bear this excitement, doctor!” inquired Mrs. Norton. anxiously, as the three went flying over the road toward the prison. For Herbert Norton lay at death’s door of typhoid fever in the prison hospital. “Joy seldom kills, madam, and I think this joy will cure. The worst feature of the case has been that he did not want to live. Wait till you and Bessie get him out of that place,” said Dr. Morgan. “And may we take him home very soon?” “The sooner the better. Here we are. Whoa, Billie. Now, not too much excitement, my dear ladies.” “God bless you.” None witnessed the meeting between the three souls united after many sad years; therefore no one can tell what they did or what they said. At last when the doctor came into the room he thought he heard Herbert Norton saying—though he could hardly recognize the voice, for the joy there was in it.: “Was ever a prayer answered like this? How I have prayed for liberty, thinking only death could bring it — and now—well, heaven has dawned for me on earth. Justice, 1 the future before me and my guardian angels. May God grant me power to make for you the crown of glory you deserve, my little martyr, my wife.” The most easterly point of the United States is QQoddy Head, Me.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

hay’s old clothes. “Mamma has bought me a new suit; My sister thinks it’s queer, That when I tried it on just now I sighed, and said O dear! “But she’s a girl, and girls would like A new dress every day. We boys would rather wear old clothes, That won’t get spoiled in play. “I begged to wear my old gray suit A few days more, but no— Mamma says it is a disgrace To see me looking so. “I s’pose it’s’cause my trouser knees Are patched, but I don’t care, And if my coat sleeves are too short Boys must grow out somewhere. “And now I’ll hear this all the while, ‘You’ll spoil your new suit, Ray; Keep off your knees, don’t climb about; Be careful when you play.’ “My jolly fun will all be spoiled— O, dear, nobody knows How much we boys do like to stick And hang to our old clothes. ” A SMART DOG. A shepherd, once to prove the intelligence of his dog, lying before the fire, said, during a long sentence concerning something, and without changing his tone, “I think tha cow is in the potatoes.” The dog, which appeared to be asleep, juinped up instantly, and, leaping through the window, scrambled up the turf roof of the house, from which he could survey the potato field. Not seeing the cow, he ran into the farmyard and discovered her. Then he returned and laid down in front of the fire. The same joke was tried again, and the same performance was repeated. The third time, however, the dog got up, went to his master wagging his tail, with a comical expression on his face, as if to say he understood the game. The company hogan to laugh, and he, being offended, returned to his corner with an offended air, and went to sleep, refusing to be disturbed again. DOGS IN WARFARE. During Bonaparte’s campaign in Italy, says a writer on dogs, as an aid to military operations, a dog whose name holds a place in military history did service as scout and spy, and showed a reasoning power that more than once came to the aia of Napoleon’s army. At Marengo tbe quaint looking poodle Mustache on several occasions prevented the regiment falling into the enemy’s ambush, and such confidence had the soldiers in his sagacity that they followed where he led, and met with considerable success. When Mustache died he was buried with military honors, and was sadly missed by his comrades in the regiment. Another dog, known to fame as Dellys, held for a long time the grade of corporal in the Second Regiment of Zouaves of the French army in Africa. The Arabs used to kill the French outposts by crawling up to them in the dark and stabbing them, until Dellys made his appearance, when he soon turned the tables on the enemy. The Zouaves shaved the dog, tied small branches on his back, and taught him to advance slowly on the Arab sentinel, stopping at the slightest indication that he was noticed, and, when near enough, spring on the man and seize him by the throat. In ten nights seven Arab sentries were thus killed by the brave dog. For these and other services he was made sergeant, with stripes attached round his fore legs. One day Dellys was induced to wander from, the camp, and was killed by the enemy. The Zouaves, furious at his loss, immediately besieged the neighboring village! and notwithstanding its almost inaccessible position on the rocks, took possession of the place in about an hour. Dellys’s death was avenged. In the Thirty-second Regiment of the French army, while manoeuvres were taking place a few years ago, experiments were made with the dogs trained by Lieutenant Jnpin, which acted as sentinels and were stationed at some distance from the camp, and gave notice by a peculiar bark when any one approached within four or five hundred yards of the post.

HE RAN TOO FAST. Grandpa Bromley owned a little black pony which was a source of much pleasure to his little granddaughter Grace. Papa Bromley’s horses were all so large, and when she was at Grandpa’s visiting he often allowed her to drive a little with her own hands, much to her delight. Papa considered Gracie too small to drive, for she was only six years old, but grandpa said she drove nicely, or would when she was older. She handled the reins well now, and he guessed when she grew to be a big girl he would have to give her the pony. Gracie talked about it a great deal. One day when she and mamma drove over to visit grandma she was surprised to find a little horse much smaller than the pony running loose in grandpa’s dooryard. “0! mamma! mamma!” she exclaimed, “there’s just such a little horse as I’ve been wanting! I do believe grandpa got it for me.” Gracie could hardly wait till grandpa came into the house to ask him about it. “Why, I thought you wanted the pony. You couldn’t drive the colt,” answered grandpa. “0 yes, I could,” replied Gracie. “He is so cunning, I want him for my verj r own.” Grandpa said he would see about it, and told Gracie to get some sugar and they would go out to see the colt. The little colt was very friendly and ate the sugar from Gracie’s hand. Then Grandpa said they must make the pony a visit or he would feel slighted, but somehow the did not seem as interesting as usual, for Gracie was thinking, of the colt all the time. But Gracie forgot all about the colt when/ grandma called them to supper, and as she ran through the dooryard, in her hurry to get there before grandpa, the colt, thinking she was playing with him, started after her, and how they both Xid run. But Gracie got to the door first and ran plump

into grandma’s outstretched arms, crying, “I don’t want the colt! I’d rather have the pony! Him runs so fast!” The colt tried to follow Gracie right into the kitchen and grandma had to push him off from the doorstep and close the door in order to keep him out. Gracie looked out of the window to see if he had gone away, but there he stood waiting, and nothing would induce Gracie to open the door or go out in the yard while the colt was there, though grandpa told her the colt was only trying to play with her. She never expresse’d a wish to own the colt again, her only objection to him always being, “Him runs too fast.”

A STREAM OF LEAD.

Maxim’s New Quick Firing Gun Tested by Uncle Sam. Hiram 8. Maxim has invented a machine gun that can be carried around by a soldier, set up like a photograph camera and fired 600 times a minute. The muzzle can be moved like a garden hose and made to direct a stream of lead upon any point. It is claimed that the stand makes it much more accurate than any gun held to the shoulder. It has exactly the same principle as the Maxim quick firing gun used for naval and artillery purposes, but it is a smaller edition, making the gun practicable for infantry use. Its caliber is .303. It has a range of 3,200 yards and sends a bullet at a velocity of 1,850 feet a second. A bullet from it will go through forty inches of oak. At a recent trial at Sandy Hook the gun was set up at the end of a long row of heavy artillery, such as those 12-inch rifles which sent a goodly proportion of a ton of steel into the ranks of an enemy. It looked something like a brass telescope, with a pistol butt instead of a peephole, the whole set upon a tripod. Uncle Sam’s soldiers, used to handling enormous cannon, looked somewhat contemptuously at it as if it were only a toy.

MAXIM CAVALRY GUN.

James Huber, expert for the MaximNordenfelt (run Company, handled the gun. It is fed with cartridges from a sort of cartridge belt made of canvas, holding 100 shells. First of all Mr. Huber fired fifty shots. This little feat occupied five and four-fifths seconds. The bullets flew through the air 150 feet apart, and there was a continuous stream of empty shells from an aperture under the barrel. Seven empty shells were in the air constantly on their way to the ground. As the light gun is used by the infantry, it is important to ascertain how quickly it can be taken from the packing case and put into action. Expert Huber hung it over his shoulder in marching order. At a word from Captain Heath he was supposed to sight an enemy concealed in the bush ahead of him and immediately began to take out the gun. He put it together, unpacked his cartridges and fired his first shot fifty-eight seconds after the alarm was given.

Rare and Costly Eggs.

An egg worth over SIOOO is something of a rarity, but there is one to be seen in the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences. It is something smaller than an ordinary goose egg, and is of a dark olive green color, splotched and spotted with black and deep brown. It is an egg of the great auk, a bird that has not been seen alive for more than fifty years, and is supposed to be extinct. In the same case with the egg is a stuffed specimen of the bird. The bird and egg are valued at $3,000, but it is doubtful if the academy would part with the egg alone for the money. Some years ago one of these eggs was offered for sale in London and brought the enormous price of $1,500. The great auk has not been seen in its native haunts in Iceland since 1848, when the last specimen known to scientists was captured. There are only two of the eggs in this country, and less than a dozen in the world.

Clairvoyance by Telephone.

M. Trouve, the well known electrician of Paris, has brought out a tiny telephone no larger than a franc piece, and, in conjunction with Rostog, the “wizard,” has applied it to clairvoyance. The telephones, attached to the ears of the blindfolded performer, are hidden by a wig and connected by fine wires,also invisible, to a transmitter behind a screen. A confederate behind the screen, who can see and hear all that passes, prompts him by means of the telephone.

A Rope Barometer.

In the office of the Des Moines Register is the best barometer in jlowa. It consists of an ordinary tope attached to the carrier box between the first and fourth floors, making it nearly sixty feet long. This rope is wonderfully sensitive to changes in the atmosphere. At least twenty-four hours before the average rain it begins to tighten by the absorption of moisture. Its predictions nearly always come true.

NOTES AND COMMENTS.

One of our exchanges remarks: “If you have frequent headachesdizziness, and fainting spells,acceompanied by chills, chilblains, epilepsy, and jaundice, it is a sign that you are not well, but are liable to die any minute. Pay your subscription a year in advance, and thus make yourself solid for a good obituary notice.” The French are experimenting with a single track temporary railroad that can be laid on a country road or across the fields. They expect to use it in military operations and in harvesting crops. The barrows and cars used are on the bicycle principle and they can be operated either by hand or horse power. The gain in the use of the rail is the great diminution of friction. A professional beggar who succumbed to the heat in New York was found to have on an overcoat, three coats, three shirts, three vests, two pairs of trousers and heavy underclothing, In his pockets were found $lO6 in bills, a quanity of silver coin and pennies, several diamond rings, more than one thousand loose matches, five candles, seven pipes, some tobacco and several newspapers. Yet he was hungry. There will soon be a great reduction in the number of lawyers in France. By a recent law each one must take out a yearly license,, for which he pays an amount equal to about 12 per cent, of his house rent. Many persons admitted to the bar. who are not in active practice, hav asked to have their names taken off the roll, among them M. Fallieres, formerly prime minister and minister of justice, and Senator Berenger, author of the law remitting the penalty for first offenses, and also noted for his efforts to improve French morality. Vessels passing through the new Baltic-North Sea canal will pay 12 cents a ton for the first 600 net register tons if laden, and 8 cents for each additional ton; vessels in ballast will pay 8 cents a ton, and the minimum charge will be $2.50 by the tariff just issued by the German Government. From October to March the charges will be 25 per cent, higher. Sailing vessels will be towed at the rate of 10 or 6| cents a ton up to 200 tons, and 7| or 4 cents a ton for all above that, according as they are laden or in ballast. Recent returns show that 1,550,000 acres of land are planted with cork trees in Spain. It is just one hundred ago since a cork factory was started in Gerona, and the manufacture of cork is now one of the chief industries of the country. Over 1,400,000,000 corks for bottles, representing a value of $2,700,000, are produced annually, and about 12,600 men are engaged in cork work. It is difficult to calculate the income derived from cork, as statistics in Spain are very faulty, and no account is kept of the cork used in the country itself. It is estimated, however, that during the present year $5,369,was paid for tbe cork exported. The carriagemakers, blacksmiths, hackmen and others of Quebec have joined in a protest to the Mayor against the new eledtric street railway, which it is proposed to operate there. They declared that it would be extremely dangerous to life, and that it would ruin their trades. The Mayor heard the committee to the end, and then told them that he was sorry that he could not agree with them, but that he felt bound to do all in his power to secure the proposed railroad for the city, as it would have to keep up with the procession or fall into the background altogether. He said that the old city had already suffered no little through its reputation for backwardness, and that it was time to take a new departure.

The demand for space in the Woman’s Building at the Cotton States and International exposition has been so great that the Woman’s Board has been compelled to ask for an appropriation for an annex. The matter has received the favorable consideration of the Finance Committee, and will probably be approved by the Executive Board. The activity and the amount of labor performed by tho women of this department are phenomen&l, considering the means at their disposal, and the results attained so far are more than astonishing. They have stirred so much interest in most of the States that an overwhelming demand L>r space has been made upon the management. A strange attempt to enforce medieval penance ended in a row recently at Biisland, in Cornwall, near the Land’s End. Two young men who had assaulted a girl in the churchyard were told by the rector that he would absolve them if they would openly confess their crime and distribute $lO worth of bread at the church gate as penance. The scene within the church was impressive; the rector admonished the culprits and forgave them in behalf of the girl; the guilty men, on their knees, then confessed in a loud voice and asked the congregation to pray for them. When they went out with the bread, however, the crowd jeered at them and made a rush for the loaves, which it irreverently ate with molasses in the churchyard, hooting and singing.

Elks broken to harness may soon cease to be a novelty in the Northwest and perhaps even in the East. Several years ago a wealthy rancher in Montana had a team of the creatures which he used to drive to his buggy, and when the fact became known other folk experimented in taming elks for a like purpose. Such a team was brought East last year and caused much interest. A rancher on the Humptulips River, Wash., is the last to experiment with elks for work purposes.’ He has a fine team, recently broken to harness, which, he says, willhaul as heavy a.load as any pair of horses, are as docile, and much handsomer. It may be that the elk will hold back for awhile the electrical and mechanical tide that is sweeping the horse from the highways, and preserve the pleasures of the road that come from riding behind a thing of life, while adding a picturesque element.

A novel eo-operative system has lately been started among the carpenters and painters of San Fran rise© through which the individual workmen are becoming owners of homes of their own without any cost for construction. As soon as any member of the local organization has saved enough money to buy a lot and the necessary lumber all his fellowworkmen turn to the next Sunday and build the house for him. In one of the suburban additions of the city a little colony of these ‘Sunday homes” has already grown up. The houses are not pretentious, but are solidly built and comfortable. There are ten houses in this colony that have been thus built by the carpenters and painters for their fellowworkmen, and it is expected that during this summer as many more will be put up at similar Sunday “building bees.” But for this helpful system the workmen would probably never be able to own homes, while through it almost every indus trious man may have a bouse of his own. Dr. Lombroso, the Italian specialist in criminology, has written a book on “The Female Offender.” in which he says: “The female born criminal is far more terrible than the male. She combines the worst qualities of both sexes—the woman’s excessive desire for revenge, cunning, cruelty, love of dress and untruthfulness ; the man’s vices, fickleness, fearlessness, audacity and often muscular strength. Celto wrote in tbe fifteenth century: ‘No possible punishments can deter women from heaping up crime upon crime". Their perversity of mind is more fertile in new crimes than the imagination of a judge in new punishments.’ Rykise said : ‘Feminine criminality is more cynical, more depraved and more terrible than the criminality of the male.’ ‘Rarely,’ says the Italian proverb, ‘is a woman wicked, but when she is she surpasses the man.' Then comes Euripides with this crusher: ‘The violence of the ocean waves or of devouring flames is terrible. Terrible is poverty, but woman is more terrible than all else.’ ” It is noticed that even a short residence in the United States makes a marked change in the conditions and standards of the immigrant. Scandinavian immigrants sometimes revisit their old homes after a sojourn in this country. They usually take the steerage passage on the eastward voyage, but the second cabin on • the return westward voyage. The eastward steerage passage they find clean and comfortable, but the recollection of the ill smelling steerage of their first trip to America drives them to the second cabin. These people ascribe the difference between the eastward and the westward steerage passage to the difference in the cleanliness of the immigrants that have lived in the United States. It is to be added, however, that in days not long ago the number of westward bound passengers greatly exceeded the number of eastward bound, and doubtless it is the cleanliest and the most intelligent of original immigrants that are able to revisit their old homes. The condition of human beings shipped like cattle is not the same as those who travel for pleasure.

About the Human Nose.

Except in regard to shape, theories about noses are varied. There are Roman noses, Greek noses, cogitative noses, hawk noses, snub noses and celestial or turn-up noses. The Roman is aquiline in shape and is said to indicate great decision, energy, firmness, absence of refinement and disregard for niceties of life. This was the nose of the Romans, the conquerors of the world, a people who, despite their association ,with the refinement of Greece, remained unpolished. Says an English writer: “The Roman nose is common to great soldiers, as it is to others who ‘have been characterized by vast energy and perseverance in overcoming great obstacles, without' regard to personal ease or the welfare of their fellowmen. The Greek nose is perfectly straight, and any deviation must be carefully noticed. If it tends to convexity it approaches the Roman and the character is improved by an accession of energy. On the other hand, when it tends to convexity it partakes of the celestial, and the character is weakened. It should be fine, well chiseled, but not sharp. The Greek nose indicates refinement of character, love for the fine arts and literature; astuteness, craft and a preference for indirect rather than direct action. Its owner is not without some energy in pursuit of that which is agreeable to his tastes, but unlike the owner of the Roman nose he cannot exert himself in opposition to his tastes., As the name and mental characteristics suggest, this was the nose of the ancient Greeks, whose triumphs in art, philosophy, poetry and acute reasoning are well known, just as are their craftiness and deceit.

An Old Army Horse.

We are not aware that the Government has any old horse in its keeping such as “Ernst” describes. There was a horse named Comanche, the most celebrated in the United States, which was kept for a- long time after he ceased to be useful, but he died Thursday, November 5, 1891, at Fort Riley, Mo. He had been long useful in the cavalry service. He was 45 years old, and was the only living thing that escaped the massacre at the battle of Little Big Horn, where General Custer and his command were killed. He was one of the original mount of the Seventh Cavalry, which regiment was organized in 1866, and had been in almost every battle with the Indian service. After, the battle of Little Big Horn he was found covered with wounds, riderless and saddleless, some distance from the scene of the massacre. He was taken taken in charge by Captain RoWlan and sent to Fort Riley, where for fourteen years he was not subject to bridle, and was in charge of the Seventh Cavalry. He died of aid age. His skin, it is understood, was stuffed and mounted, and kept in the museum of the Kansas State University.—Brooklyn Eagle Lord Napier won the Abyssinian War in 1867 without a single revere.