Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1895 — Page 5

A COLDEN DREAM

BY GEO-M-FENN.

CHAPTER Xlll—(Continued.)

As she was hesitating Madame Saintone brought to bear the calm matter of fact meutal pressure of the woman accustomed to be obeyed, on one who was moving in a lower grade. “Ah,” she said, smiling, “I thought you would relent. I understand your feelings, j I should be as jealous as you if some one tried to separate me from my darling Antoinette. Where is our dear Aube? ’ She walked quietly forward, and, as if ; mastered by a stronger will, Xousie led her in silence to the inner room she bad religiously set apart for her child. Aube rose from the piano as they entered, coloring vividly and then growing pale, while her mother stood at the door watching jealously every look and feeling painfully more and more that she had been creating the gap between her and the child she loved. “Ah, my darling,” cried Madame Saintone, “I have come at last.” She kissed her affectionately, but Aube made no sign. “What a delightful little nest. A piano! Books! All thoughtful little preparations made by your dear mother for her child's return. There, have I not been patient? I should have been here before,” she continued, seating herself in a lounge and arranging her dress while Aube stood by, and Nousie closed the door and seemed to keep guard lest her child should be stolen from her, “but ’Toinette said you two ought to have a few days together undisturbed.” “It was very kind of you. Madame Saintone, and good of you to call.” “Oh, come, my child, don’t talk like that. We must not be formal. There, go and put on your things. I see how it is; you are quite pale with keeping indoors, and you have been feeling the heat. lam going to take you for a drive where you <-an feel the sea air; then come for a few hours to dine with us, and I’ll bring you back iu the evening.” Aube looked at her in a startled way, and then at her inother, who remained a silent and watchful spectator of the scene. “You have seen nothing of the place yet, I am sure, and if I go back to Paris and call on the dear Sisters, I shall never be able to face them if I have not done my duty by you. Come.” Nousie stood with her lips parted, and feeling as if something was constricting her heart as she told herself that she had committed a grievous error, and all her labor of these many years was to prepare her child is r another grade of life, and that from this moment Aube was going , to drift away. Yes; it was plain enough. She realized fully the difference between herself and this elegantly-dressed, polished woman with whom Aube seemed in accord. Misery, agony, despair—all fought for the possession of her breast as she felt now that she was only fit to be servant to her child, and for a moment, she was on the point of running from the room and finding some lonely spot where she could throw herself down and beat her head against the ground. But as she gazed wildly at Aube, their eyes met, and there was so soft and gentle a look directed at her that her breast heaved, her great love prevailed once more, and she said to herself: “Why not? I have been her servant and slave all these years. Why should it not continue now if it will make her happy? Is she not my life?” “Why, my child,” cried Madame Saintone, with a forced laugh, “how strange you look. Oh, I see you have some nonsense in tlrvt pretty head about obligation and not wrshing to trouble me. Quite school etiquette, that, and all very well in Paris: but here we are more free and neighborly. Aube, my darling. I have to give you your first lesson in Haytian hospitality, so to begin with, iny dear, my horses and carriage are at your service whenever you like. We must mount you. and ’Toinette and you can go for long rides together.” At that moment a jealous suspicion flashed across Nousie’s brain, for she recalled meeting ’Toinette on horesback nearly two years before, and she was riding with her brother Etienne. If Aube went with Madame Saintone, she would meet this man. “Don't you think so, Madame Dulau?” Nousie started and gazed at her wildly. “I said,” continued Madame Saintone. with a smile, in a voice full of goodhumored condescension, “do you not think our dearest Aube would look charming in a riding habit?” Nousie's lips parted, and Madame Saintone said to herself, “Poor woman; I can lead her as I like.” Then aloud, as Aube crossed toward her mother, “That’s right, my dear. Do not hurry, and make yourself hot, and pray let there be no more formality between us. Y’our dear mother wishes you, I can see, to make friends with our people, and it will be better for you, of course.” “And she will meet Etienne Saintone, the man who came here that day," thought Nousie; and with her eyes dilating she recalled the bribe he had given her, and what had followed when he and his friend kept their appointment. She was recalling all this with the agony at her heart increasing as the possibility of Saintone seeing and loving her child flashed across her, and quite heedless of her daughter’s words ns A übe laid a hand upon her arm. she now caught her to her side and held her fast. “What?” she said, wildly; and she looked fiercely in Aube’s eyes. “I said that it was kind and thoughtful of Madame Saintone to come and make this proposal; but will you tell her, dear, as I did, that I have come back homo to you, to be with you, and that I cannot accept her offer.” “My dearest Aube,” cried Madame Saintone, holding out her hands. “I am saying what I am sure my dear mother wishes,” said Aube, gently, “and it is what I feel. Thank you. Madame Saintone, I am very grateful—indeed I am —for all your care of me during the voyage, but I must decline.” “My dear Madame Dulau,” said the visitor, “it leally is your duty to help your child. Do not, pray, stand in her light. Indeed, all this will be for her good.” Nousie felt constrained again. Was it right? Was it for Aube's good, and would, she stand in her light? This beautiful, ladylike girl was, she saw now, so out of place there. “Do you feel this?” continued Madame Saintone, who followed up her advantage, and spoke earnestly to the mother. “Feel this?” faltered Nousie, as she looked wildly at her child. “Stand in her light! Aube, dear. Should I? Yes. You should go.”

Aube's arms were round her. and she laid her head upon her mother's shoulder. “No,” she said softly. “Madame Saintone means kindly, but it is not right. No, Madame Saintone, I have thought all this over, and thank you all the same. Mother dear. I cannot go.” Nousie stood as if carved in stone as Madame Saintone rose, shrugged her shoulders, and raised her eyebrows, thinking the while. “I see.”,she cried, pleasantly. “’Toinette was right. 1 have still come too soon. You two are quite love-sick yet. There, I am going now to wait till all this emotion has time to calm down. Good-by, Madame Dulau. Aube, my sweet child,” she continued, kissing her, “au revoir, I am going to disappoint ’Toinette. but you will make up for it another day.” Aube shook her head, but Madame Saintone laughed. “We shall see,” she said gentlv. “(loodby.” She rustled out of the door, and mother and child stood apart now in the shaded room, listening as the chatter of the blacks outside ceased, and in imagination they saw the visitor mount into the carriage; then the wheels crushed the dusty road, the loud talking of the blacks began again, and there was a cheer. Then Nousie gazed wildly in her child’s face. “It is all true.” she said. “I shall stand in your light and keep you back.” Aube flung her arms round her neck, and nestled to her as she whispered; “My own dearest mother, you hurt me if you speak like that.” But Nousie made no sign, for Madame Saintone’s words had gone deeply home; and more and more in her heart site knew that they were true. CHAPTER XIV. The time glided by. and now that the first shock of surprise aud what nearly approached to horror had passed, Aube found her surroundings less painful,, though at times she shrank from the idolatry with which she was treated by the people who came about the place. It was little less from her mother and Cherubine, though her mother’s tenderness was now mingled with sadness. There was a deprecating apologetic feeling in all her approaches which caused Aube no little suffering, aud she strove hard to make her feel that she was happy and content.

Among the blacks aud mulattoes who came to the house, there were only two who appeared strange. One of these was the tall, handsome mulatto girl who seemed to have some strange influence with Nousie; and the other was the gigantic black with the knotted hair, who scarcely allowed a day to pass without making his appearance; and Aube noticed that he always watched her strangely, and on one occasion as she sat playing one of the old pieces which brought back her life at the convent, she saw that the room was darkened and that some one was looking in. She shrunk back into one corner of the room with her heart beating fast, for she had caught sight of the fierce black face and opal eyeballs of the man who had startled her before. Then the light came uninterruptedly again, and the dread passed away as she thought of the love of the black people for Nousie, and that the chords she had been playing had attracted the man to the window. Madame Saintone came again and again, but always to meet with similar refusals, all of which she took good teinperedly enough, announcing that she should return to the cottage until she succeeded; and her invitation had been supplemented by others brought by her son, whose visits to the cabaret were now daily. They caused Aube but little uneasiness, only vexation that Madame Saintone should be so pertinacious, for in the midst of Nousie’s passionate affection for, and worship of, her child, it was plain enough to see that thpre was a nervous expectancy and dread lest she should be won over at last, and be ready to forsake her home. Aube only encountered Saintone twice. He was enthusiastic, and aired all his graces and attractions to make an impression upon his mother's selection;, but Nousie, who watched every look and word jealously, had no cause for suffering, as it was plain enough that Saintone’s visits annoyed Aube, and he went away mortified and ready to declare that she was weak and unimpressionable, or his visits would not have so far been in vain. But after swallowing his disappointment he was ready to come to the attack again, his vanity seconding the feeling of passion lately evoked. It was a strange life, and Aube would sit by her open window at night listening to the weird sounds which came from the forest, and ready to feel at times that sooner or later she would aWuken from her last dream. Then she would sigh aud think that it was no dream, and sit and recall her peaceful life at the convent, her happy days with Lucie, and a faint glow would flush her cheeks at the thought #f Paul. Then the hot tears would come as in her’•heart she felt that she might some day have loved him, but that this was indeed a dream never to be realized—a something pleasant belonging to the dead past. She had written to the lady superior and to Lucie twice since she had been out; there, but her letters were guarded. The allusions to her mother and her home were brief, but she dwelt at length upon the beauty of the country and the tender love showered upon her by her mother and her old nurse. But there was no mention of her position, and the agony she had suffered—no word to show that she was not happy. “Why should I speak of my disappointment and the dissipation of all my illusions?” she asked herself. “I built up all those castles in the air; it is not her fault that they have all come tumbling down." CHAPTER XV. Nousie was seated at the back of her buffet one morning when all without was glorious sunshine, and in her heart all looked dark. The place and her avocations had suddenly grown distasteful, she hardly realized to herself why; and the great object of her life achieved, she sat wondering why it was that it had not brought her joy. There were endless things to distract her. She was jealous of Madame Saintone, and she shuddered when Etienne came, but always after their departure she communed with herself as to whether she ought not to forgive the past and en-

courage her child to accept the intimacy at all events with Madame Saintone, who could offer her social advantages such as were wanting now. Then she thought »f leaving the place altogether and beginning a new life, but these thoughts were cast aside despairingly, for if she did this, her income would cease, and worst of all. the gap between her aud her child would not be bridged. “I can see it—l can see it.” she sighed. “My poor darling: she is straggling hard tp love me. I never thought of it, but she is so different, aud I call never be anything else but what I am.” Her musings that morning and the thoughts which always came to her when she was'aloue were interrupted by the entrance of Eugenie and the great black, who. after making sure that they would not be overheard, seated themselves. the black refreshing himself with a glass of rum. and Genie leaning over the buffet counter to speak in a low tone to Nousie. “Where is Cherubine?” she asked. “Gone into the town.” “She has not been up to ns lately.” “No: she has been so busy here.” “Ah. yes. with the pretty lady from over the sea.” “Yes,” said Nousie uneasily, and, avoiding further allusions to her child, she entered at once into the business of her visitor's call, receiving certain orders from her which she undertook to fulfill. Then the woman arose, made a sign to the black, and he followed her without a word for some distance along the road, till they were quite out of sight of Nonsie's home, when she pointed up a side path. “Go on, now,” she said. “You coming?” “Not yet. Go on. and don't watch me.” The black laughed rather consciously, and turned up the path, to go for some distance before turning sharply round, and he was about to plunge in among the trees as if to retrace his steps, when he became conscious that the mulatto girl had followed him a little way, and was watching to see if he really,went. ’ The black laughed and went on again, while, after making sure that she was not being watched in turn, the girl returned to the road, and sat down where she could command the way to the port and see who came. (To be continued.)

INVENTIVE CRANKS IN FRANCE.

Their Fuvorlte Idea Ie to Brins About Wholesale Destruction In War. Some amusing particulars of the inventions that have been offered to the French war office since 1871, says the London Court Journal, have recently been published in a French newspaper, the majority of which are about equal to the Laputnn scheme for plowing fields, namely, by sowing acorns in rows and then turning in pigs to root them up. One genius sought a patent for the training of squadrons of horseflies. These auxiliaries were to be fed exclusively on blood served up beneath the delicate epidermis of mechanical figures clothed in the uniforms of members of the triple alliance, so that when political relations in Europe were strained the flies might be given daily a little Of the juice of certain poisonous plants, and on actual declaration of war turned out in the path of the enemy. Another ingenious person proposed a scheme for educating war dogs. In time of peace he would teach French dogs to bite lay figures wearing Prussian helmets, iu order that on die outbreak of war the kennels of the whole country might be mobilized and let loose ou the enemy. Then there are numerous proposals for bridging rivers by means of ropes attached to cannon balls, and a photographer suggests a novel kind of captive shell, which, breaking over the fortified position of an enemy, would disclose a small cam era attached to a parachute. The enemy's fortifications would be instantaneously photographed and the apparatus hauled back by the string and the negatives developed at leisure. Two ideas are very inhuman. One is a scheme for sending large quantities of poisoned needles, as if iu charity, to the enemy’s generals, who would, of course, distribute them to their forces and so poison the unfortunate users; aud the other to charge explosive bullets with pepper. Two objects are pursued by the luventor of the pepper: its discharge would bliud the enemy, and the great demand for the condiment in war time w r ould stimulate the trade of the French colonies and increase the revenue of the country. There are also many other equally absurd propositions, such as suggestions for making soup by machinery, growing potatoes on barrack roofs in December, and killing whole army corps of Prussians by post—but they are far too numerous to be mentioned.

Sun Cooking.

Speaking of primitive methods of heating, it is undoubtedly a fact that man iu early ages used bones to some extent as fuel, mixing them with pieces of weed. Bones contain much fatty matter and small ones burn readily. In the desert regions of Arizona, where there is no vegetation worth mentioning, the Indians dig up for fuel the enormously developed roots of various plants. Pine cones make a line kindling, aud are utilized for that purpose all over Europe, particularly in the Black Forest and other parts of Germany. The attention of many scientific men has long been engaged in trying to devise some sort of apparatus for employing the sun’s rays as fuel. One of the more noted experimenters in this line is Prof. Edward Sylvester Morse. Mirrors are most commonly used to concentrate the rays of the solar orb for this purpose. , In one instance, not long ago, success was obtained in an attempt to cook a goose by the sun stove. Unfortunately, at the conclusion of the operation, It was found that the bird was spoiled, being rendered unfit for food by the chemical action of the sun’s rays. This, of course, might be avoided by shutting up the articles to be cooked In closed oveus. But the objection to the sun stove, thus far found insuperable, is its necessary elaborateness and consequent great cost. Alcohol is an ideal fuel. It gives great heat, and its combusution Is perfect, without smoke or other solid residuum. In burning it resolves itself into water and carbonic gas. Of course, It Is too expensive for common use, but chemistry may yet discover a way of producing it at a small fraction of its present cost.

A West Virginia man is so peculiar

ly affected by riding on a train that he has to chain himself to a seat to prevent his jumping out of the car window.l

FOR THE FAIR SEX.

NOTES AND COMMENTS ON THE FASHIONS. THE SEASON S FURS. All women look well iu furs; uo more beoomJug environment for feminine features has yet been found, qnd as they appear this whiter in qifuiut and exquisitely dainty combinations it seeuis as though the very acme of richness in woman’s garments has lawn obtained. AN INGENIOUS CYCLING COSTUME. Women bicyclists of Beldiug. Oregon. wear bloomers and a short skirt while riding through the streets of the town, but as soon as tjiey strike the city line they doff the skirt, strap it to the handle bar. aud ride unencumbered through the country districts. When they reach the city line ou their return they don the sjvirt again. A FAMOUS DRESS. A Roman countess offers for sale the dress which Princess Marie Louise of Austria wore on the occasion of her marriage to Napoleon the first The Empress gave it to a lady of her court who in turn presented it as a thank offering to the Church of the Madonna of Castelguelfo, Italy. It then served sometimes as an altar covering, and sometimes as a vestment for the statue of the Madonna. Hard pressed for money, the church sold it In 1888 to the Roman <,-ouutess. who now tries to convert this relic of. the Empire back into cash. REVOLUTIONARY DAMES. Any woman above the age of eighteen years is eligible to membership In the Daughters of the Revolution who Is a lineal descendant from an ancestor who was a military naval or marine officer soldier, sailor or marine In actual service under authority of any of the thirteen colonies or states, or of the Continental Congress, and remained always loyal to sti eh authority, or a descendant of one who signed the Declaration of Independence, or one who was a member of the Continental Congress, or of the Congress, of ryiy of the colonies or states, or as an official appointed by or under the authority of any such representative bodies actually assisting in the establishment of American indpeendoncc by service rendered during the war of the revolution. A STEAMBOAT CAPTAIN. The steamship men say (hat Mrs. Daniels, of Vergenues, Vermont, Is the only woman commanding it passenger steamboat in the United States, un she was the earliest iu point of time in command of any steam craft. There are two or three other women captains now, but all in command of freight boats, and all having a record of service much shorter than that of Captain Philemouia.MrN. Daniels Ims never had an accident—never expects one. She is a cool-headed, sensible New England woman who bears her unique distinction very modestly. Everybody is proud of her In Vergenues and Westport, and everybody lias reason to be. She is known as an admirable housewife, and a modest, retiring woman.

WOMAN’S THROAT. A well-known sculptor, George Wade has been giving his opinion as to t Inartistic value of a woman's throat. In a model, Mr. Wade says, he requires a long neck, but not too upright; tlm line from tilt* head to the shoulders to be gradually curved, the head thrown back, and the knock Itself to be wellrounded. A “scraggy” neck, unless the set on the shoulders denotes a remarkably distinguished air, cannot be considered beautiful front a sculptor’s point of view, nor a badly-iset- neck, however well-founded. There are three women in London society whose necks Mr. Wade considers beyond reproach. These are Princess Maude of Wales, Lady Annesley anti the Marchioness of Londonderry Of corns*, when the Duchess of Leinster was alive her neck aud shoulders was the admiration of every artist iu the kingdom. WOMEN DOCTORS IN ENGLAND. The woman physician no longer finds her path thorny In England. Mrs Garrett Anderson. M.D., has been writing for the British Journal on the status and qualifications of women practitioners. and she shows that their hardest days are over. Her first statement is that it is as easy at this moment for a woman to get a complete medical education in Great Britain as it is for a man, the course of education and the necessary expenditure being practically the same in both eases: the same examinations must be passed, and the same qualifications and diplomas obtained by individuals of either sex. Some of the examining bodies, such as the Royal College of Surgeons in England, do not admit women to examination, but even with them, there 1r no direct opposition, and hours are set apart at the museum of the college solely for the convenience of women students. The degrees of the universities of London, Durham. Ireland, Edinburgh, Glasgow, aud St. Andrew's,and the medical colleges of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Ireland, and the license of Apothecaries Hall are now open to women, who are prepared for examination in many medical sehols, some of which are open for women only, and some for men and women together. FALSE HAIR COMING BACK. A revolution is at hand. The implements of warfare will be a toothed criftiping-ivon, a wire frame, and sonw extra hair, if the home-grown crop is insufficient to produce the necessary abundant effect. The severe simplicity we have been affecting of late was not becoming of many of us. It was adorable when the profile was fine and the cheeks delicately modeled, but when these perfections were lacking, it was. to say the least, trying. Who does not recall the attractive girl, with full, red cheeks and pleasant, blunt features, who made a caricature of herself by parting her hair and drawing It over her ears after the style of prevailing modes? If she had drawn it lightly from the temples, with a few softening curls left about the face, bow different would have been the effect? That severely simple style is the special prerogative of the Madonnafaced woman, who can do all sorts of rash things which the rest of us must look upon and admire without attempting to follow. As I heard a very .'harming girl with a retrousse nose

remark tbe other day as she pulled the pins from her hair, "What’s the use of my doing my hair in this pokey Madonna fashion when 1 look like a perfeet fright. 1 mighi just as well shave my head and wear a Mark rap as to have these hard lines round my fare." And she gave the eriiupiugirou a cooling nourish as she returned to the ways of frivolity. The only i disadvantage of the Incoming styles is that they are apt to inaugurate an era of false hair, as the component parts of which the new coiffure is composed may all l»e I (ought individually and adjusted. American women wear less false hair, proportionately, titan the women of any other country. English women of all classes load their heads with false "fringes"—we call them bangs— toupees, switches, seal pets and every other device of the moneymaking hair-dresser. The hair problem is a very serious one to tin* average English' woman. In the arrangement of her hair she is almost as helpless as her Japanese sister. This is particularly true on festal occasions. No mutter how small and early, her hair must be dressed. If she has not a maid she'calls in the services of a knight of the tongs. And he crimps and frizzles and waves till the result produced recalls Daniel Webster’s “Wonderful, wonderful; would that 1 could say impossible.” Mat I can forgive the English woman much in ihe way of such harmless adornment, because she washes her head ill soap and water, which is more than can be said of the French women. Madame first puts the yelk of an egg oil her head, and then washes it off in a scented decoction of buy rum and quinine, which may he very good indeed for ait occasional dressing, lint is little short of disgusting for a constant wash. FASHION NOTES. Chameleon ribbons are very fashionable for socks and ruffs. The beauty and magnificence of tho.se ribbons bailie minute description, but in design they are so blurred that they suggest nothing so much as water reflections through leaves and gorgeous flowers. An autumn lint of felt litis a wide brim slightly rolled up at the buck, it is trimmed with velvet ribbon, gathered at one edge and howed around tin* crown in a full ruffle. A large bunch of flowers and aigrets are set directly in front. Fink and royal purple shot silk ribbon is seen on some of the swellest French bonnets. A small point for tin l hostess whose wax candles show a propensity to rapid wasting is that to put them in the ice-chest for full twenty-four hours before using will Increase.their burning very appreciably. They want to be thoroughly chilled. one of the most unique table decorations consists of a fountain playing In the centre of the dining table, Illuminated by electricity, the light playing on th ewa ter beneath, with white lilies floating on Its surface and gold and silver fish darting in and out. The oval or medallion frame is very much in evidence. The reproduction of famous miniatures is so favorite a thing now in art. that, the frame Inis come in with them. They are especially fetching with a lover’s knot in gilt at the top. A Inn that has been much admired is of line broadcloth. A section of tbe material of proper shape is cut out and richly embroidered at the edge. This is placed over a wire frame (hat Inis an edge of very narrow passementerie. The material is puffed over the crown and there In a trimming of velvet ribbon, very handsome Jeweled ornaments and ostrich feathers.

Tlio toque will he the popular headgear of the season. The preferred style has a round, Hat crown with u very narrow hrim. The covering niuterial is put on either smoothly or 111 puffs or folds, and the brim is covered either plainly or In puffs, hut this seems to matter little, for it is entirely concealed by the trimming. Velvet or velvet ribbon is the favorite material, and every fold and loop is fastened down with a Jewel or a tiny pin, A wide-brimmed hat of felt has a trimming of flne plaited silk drawn out into fans at the edge. This Is placed around the crown and tills the entire angle between the crown and the brim. A cluster of ostrich plumes stands upright at the back of the crown, and the brim is rolled up at the back. A material that has been much used for fancy work tills season is a cotton fabric, a cross between the familiar hop sacking and Java canvas; it is very pleasant to work on and comes In several colors—Nile green, tun, blue and ecru. A table cover in this of ecru was scattered with cornflowers in two shades of brown. A beautiful new collarette and ruche is tnade of fine, shining silk, as soft a texture as chiffon In the richest black plissed and then box pleated, it is composed of three collars, each one a trifle narrower than the other, and the whole is finished off by a large ruche that reaches above the cars and nestles into the hair in the most fuscinoting way. Two long stole ends of black satin ribbon Jiang down in front. It is a false economy to Invest in cheap, common materials, especially when dealing with ribbons and feathers. A ribbon of good quality will not only retain its freshness, and wear better than one of inferior make, but it will actually keep clean for a greater length of time, and look well to the last. A cheap feather is a mistake.

Common Sumae Not Used Now.

“Do we use sumac?” repeated a leather mail down in the Swamp. “That depends,” lie answered. "Anyway not so much as years ago. Acid tanning is more in vogue. When 1 first went into business we did quite a trade with people up iu Western Conuecticut and Massachusetts in ordinary sumac. They out and dried it and sent it here in tons. But now that trade is all gone—l don’t believe you could give away either teu pounds or ten tons of the stuff. And still people up there continually inquire about it. A few years ago persons in Virginia went into the business. They furnished it ground. They have built up quite a trade. The highest priced still comes from Sicily—the tanners will have It, and pay 20 per cent, more for it.” 1

NOTES AND COMMENTS.

The principle is now well established that a city has no legal right to pollute the water of a river which flows thence past other towns. Forty years ago Theodore Parker predicted that before the end of the century Kansas would have 1,000,000 inhabitants and be worth sl,000,000,000. The prediction has been more than fulfilled already. Kansas has 1,.(00,000 people and is worth $2,000, 000,000. It is estimated that .’(0,000 letters, westward bound, were lost In the Pennsylvania Railroad wreck near Newport. Penn., a few days ago. What a record of high aims and low devices, self-sacrifice and self-seek-ing. poverty and wealth, happiness and misery, was tints wiped out! Rut it will all reappear in other sealed envelopes in the course of time. A sinoi.k American copper mine has already produced 74,000,000 pounds of copper this year, and it is expected that its total output for the year will reach !).'>,000,000 pounds. Its net profits last year are put at $2,986 ,000. These exaggerated returns on a comparatively small investment are due primarily to the great demand for copper caused by the increasing use of electricity. On account of the unprecedented corn crop and the consequent low price expected, the question of the feasibility of using corn extensively as fuel is being widely discussed in Hie West. A Chicago man guarantees to supply corn for the elevated railroads to burn at less titan I heir coal costs them. On the other hand, corn makes such a hot tire that it rapidly burns out ordinary stoves, and hitherto it has not found unmixed favor as fuel. John Kiske, the well known American writer on historical topics, says that "few people huve the leisure to undertake a systematic und thorough study of history, but every one ouglit to find time to learn the prinoipal features of the governments under which we live, and to get some inkling of the way in which those governments have come into existence, and of the causes which have made them what they tiro.'’ The late Queen of Korea was quite a pretty little woman of an extravagant disposition, but of much greater ability than her husband. She was fond of intrigue and excitement, and during the last few years her life has been full of both. Of all the foreigners at the court slio liked the Russians best. The King is apparently not overwhelmed with grief, for "he is to be provided at once, without sign of mourning, with a new and less ambitious wife. ”

The young King of Spain saw his first bull light the other day. His mother, who has a horror of the brutal sport, postponed the event as long us possible; but even she was unable to override the ancient court precedent t hat prescribes attendance on bull fights as part of the education of a Christian monarch. The little chap viewed the sport without betraying any enthusiasm, and departed without rewarding the successful matador, In accordance with custom. And some Spaniards, therefore, fear that he may bring discredit on his order and race by taking a stand uguinst Hip national sport when he grows to man's estate. The population of Japan was In JB!M 42,0U0,000. Adding Formosa —which became a part of the country by the late treaty with China—the population is now 45,000,000. In , the year 610 the population of the country wus 4,088,842. The area of the country is 27,026 square rl. Compared in extent with European countries Japan stands next to Spain, being about equal to Sweden. She is larger thun (treat Britain and Ireland by 6,988 square ri, and Is the eleventh largest country in the world. Compared with Great Britain and Ireland she has 7,100.000 mere people, and in population ranks as the fifth power in the world. The question of the influence of the size of seeds upon germination and upon the size of the plant that springs therefrom haß been recently studied anew by Mr.B. E. Galloway, a summary of whose conclusions is given by the Gardeners’ Chronicle. The weight and size of the seed are of great importance. A large seed germinates better and more quickly, und with It one can count upon having at the same moment from 85 to 90 per cent, of the total crop, while with small seeds the crop reaches maturity only in successive periods of time, so that at no moment in gathering the crop in toto could we have the same proportion of the whole. Besides, where with small seeds four successive crops are obtained, we have six with large seeds, their evolution occurring with greater rapidity. There is no longer any doubt that .the tide of emigration has turned. For two years, notably in 1894, immigration to the United States was held in check; in the year 1895 it has resumed its former volume. The increase is very apparent. During September the arrivals of immigrants in this country numbered 86,599, as against 24,904 in September, 1894. The nine months of the current year show an immigration of 249,882, as against 191,485 for the same period last year. The inference from these facts, exclaim the Boston Commonmonwealth, is gratifying; it is a proof of the reality of the prosperity which has returned to this country. These hundreds of thousands of emigrants were driven out of Europe by unusual distress in their native lands; they were attracted by better times in America. But their coming in such largely increased numbers imposes upon the United States tbe necessity of selection more forcibly than ever before. Our present laws assume to keep out the diseased, the criminal, the paupers, and,to a great extent, they are effective. But they need to be supplemented by laws which shall erect a barrier against ignorance, and shall enable the great American Republic to get the best, and only the best, from the peoples of Europe. In the great outlay which George Vanderbilt is making at Biltmore, in North Carolina,, the young mll-

lionaire has entertained a more se> rious purpose than is generally known, says the New York Sun. A great deal has been written about tho enormous house, with its library, chapel, scores of bedrooms and the array of servants which will be required to keep it up, but not every one knows that Mr. Vanderbilt intends to make hi 4 estate a Mecca for all those who are seriously interested in the study of forestry, scientific farming and horticulture. He has land enough to carry out any schotne of this sort, as he can go 40 miles in a direct line from his own door without passing the confines of his domain. He proposes, therefore. to create a neighborhood of his own on this vast property, which includes, among other cultivated and uncultivated tracts, one forest alone of more than 160.000 acres. He will build a village containing houses, stores and a picturesque inn, and apartments will be rented to all properly accredited students whodesire to avail themselves of the facilities offered there for the btudy of the sciences which are his hobby. The farm will be conducted after t he inosl approved scientific fashion, and forestry will be carried on experimentally and practically to an extent never before attempted in this country,

WHERE HE DREW THE LINE.

Why ths Old Farmer Wouldn’t Buy • Windmill. 'Die man who sold windmills adjusted his chair at a now angle, i crossed his feet on the railing of the balcony, locked his hands over tho top of his head, and began : "Curious fellows, those Wayback farmers are; droll chaps to deal with, too; cute and sharp at a bargain. Most of them know a good tiling when they see it, so 1 took a good many orders; but once in a while I come across a conservative old hayseed whose eyes are dosed to ! anything modern. One of| that sort ' helped me to a good laugh tho other day. and 1 might as well push it on, "He was a genial, white-headed old fellow, who owned several fine farms, with prime orchards and j meadows, barns and fences in applepie order, and dwellings serene in comfort. "He listened closely while I expatiated on the excellence of ouf | make of machines; then taking » ; fresh supply of Cavendish, hd squared himself in ills chair, with i his hands in his pockets, and held forth in this fashion : • * ‘ M aul, stranger,’ he said, ‘your machine may be all right; but now see here. I set tled here In the airly fifties, broke the trail for the last few | miles, blazin’the trees as we came along. I had a fnir good start, good health, a yoke o' cattle, a cow, an ax, with one bit an' three coppers in my pocket. I built a log house with a shake ruff an’ a puncheon floor, an’ a cow-shed oi popple poles ruffed with sod. I worked hurd, up airly and down late, clearin’ up land by degrees, an’ tjiggin' a livin’ out o' tile site by main strength, an’ no favors except the blessin’ o’ the AlI mighty. The Lord's been good to j me. He’s gi’n mo housen an ’ barns; , lie’s gi’n me horses an' cat,tie; He’s igi’n me sheep an’ swine, an’ feathered fowl o’ many kinds. An’ now, stranger, after ull that, I’ll be everlastingly busted if I’ll be so mean as ; to ask Him to pump water for ’em.' "And then, "continued the storyteller, "ho brought his hand down on | his knee with a whack that fairly echoed through the house. Of course j 1 couldn’t urge him to purchase after that expression of his sentiments, and I left him. Independ- | ent, wusn’t he?” Thun the windmill man chuckled, ! as if he enjoyed the memory of the scene he had jußt described; and his hearers onjoyed his story so muoh that when he left he was richer by three or four orders.

Petrifynig the Human Form.

It is staled that there are in existence a number of figures of petrified human beings prepared by an Italian specialist. His marvelous achievements in preserving the features of the dead have been the theme of discussion among scientists for many years. In the Florentine Museum there are some samples of his work. One of the most perfect examples of his skill has been in existence for sixty years. It was the head of an extremely beautiful young woman who had died fro.n pulmonary tuberculosis. Its whereabouts has been for some time unknown, but the de* scendonts of this great pastinaster in petrification have been searching diligently for it. It has been found in Bavaria and restored to its owners as one of the treasures of Italian anatomical science. Sixty years’ use seems to have caused it no appreciable injury, as it is described by a writer as having luxuriant blonde hair quite wavy and soft like that of a living person.

Dogs and Their Friends.

It was Dr. John Drown of Kd in boro, I think, who spoke in sincere sympathy of the man who “led a dog-less life.” It was Mr. “Josh Billings,” I know, who said that in the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money cannot ; buy, to wit: the wag of a dog’s tail. And i it was Prof. John C. Van Dyke who declared the other day, in reviewing the artistic caroer of Landseer, that he made his dogs too human. It was the great C reator himself who made dogs too human —so human that sometimes they put humanity to shame. I have been the friend and confidant of three dogs, who helped to humanize me for the space of a quarter of a century, and who had souls to be saved, I am sure; and when I cross the Stygian River, I I expect to find on the other shore a trio of dogs wagging their tails almost off in their joy at my coming, and with honest tongues hanging out to lick my hands and my feet. And then lam going, with these faithful, devoted dogs at my heels, to talk dogs over with Dr. John Brown, Sir Edwiu Landseer, and Mr. Josh Billings. * She—l retdly don’t th'nk I shall take part again in theatricals; I always feel as though I were making a fool of myself. He—Oh, everybody thinks thatl “I’m going to be President some day," said Willie, proudly. “Papa laid r might." I