Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 February 1896 — Page 4

A GOLDEN DREAM

j ' CHAPTER XXIII. —(Continued.) ' A wild and piercing scream reached them at that moment, echoed by Chern%ine, who raised her head and let it fall itearily again, striking the table before iier as if her brow were of wood. Paul staggered as the wail rose again :from outside, recovered himself and followed Bart who had dashed through the door, and following his footsteps he staggered into the white draped room which iNousie had prepared with such loving care for the advent of her child. Paul clutched at the door as he grasped the scene in the shaded room. Nousie on &er knees frantically clasping the white form of her child extended on the bed, lier face buried in her white bosom, while all around over the pillow and coverlet the poor girl’s long black hair lay tossed, fihe had evidently been seized by some terribly agonizing pain in whose tlntchcs she had writhed and tossed, for her bared arms lay apart, and her head and shoulders were half over the side of the bed, where Xousie knelt. Bart was on the other side rapidly making his examination, at the end of which he went round and whispered to the stricken mother, who rose obediently, and like one in a dream helped him to compose the cramped and distorted limbs, before, with a despairing gesture, he signed to Paul to approach. Paul reeled like a drunken man, and stared wildly at his friend, then at the beautiful face upon the pillow, from which the distortion of pain had passed, leaving it already calm and peaceful aa if she slept. “Bart —no, no, not that —not that?' whispered Paul at last, bonrsely. I “God help you, old fellow”’ whispered Bart with a deprecating gesture, “I can do nothing. It is too late.” “What?” cried Paul, fiercely. “And ia this your boasted knowledge. Helpless, miserable pretender! Aube, Aube, :tiy darling!—gone—gone. God help me, what shall I do?” He flung himself on his knees by the bedside, and passionately kissed the soft, cold lips again and again, heedless of everything, as by -all the terms of endearment he could command, he called Opon her to come back to him, for he could not live alone, till his passionately uttered words grew faint and husky, and he turned round fiercely, for £ hand was laid upon his head. He laughed bitterly, then, as he gazed up in Nousie’s wild face, i “Well,” he cried, “you have killed her. Are you happy now? You fetched her awav from all who loved her, and for this.” “But I loved her, too,” groaned Xousie, “my darling, whom I could have died to save. Have some pity on me,” she wailed, as she held up her clasped hands to her accuser. “Yes, I loved her, too.” Paul uttered a low hoarse cry and clasped the suffering woman in liis arms. “Yes,” he said. “I am mad. Ido not blame you—her mother—for you loved her, too.” At that moment in regular dirge-like mourning cadence came the wailing •chorus of the blacks, sending a thrill through Bart, as he bent over Aube once more, touching her bands which he felt It a sacrilege to lay upon the fast chilling form, and ending by taking those of the mother and his friend, leading them to either side of the conch, and joining them so that they lay theirs upon the halfclosed eyes once so full of sadness and loving tenderness, to close them in the darkness until the coming light. And once more the low moaning wail rose from without for the death of Xousie’s child.

CHAPTER XXIY. i “I dare not tell him,” muttered Bart a few hours after, as he walked up and down the room, Aube’s little nest; for Paul had sternly refused to leave the chamber, and was now seated with his head bowed down and buried in his hands, just as he had been led there tenderly by Xousie, for only to her would he yield when it was whispered to him that he must go. “I dare not tell him,” said Bart again to himself, “but if ever poor girl was poisoned that was her death. I must get him away from here, for the tragedy is at an end." “Poor lad!” he mused. “The knot has been cut indeed. But in what a way! Whose cursed hand. gave her that? May it rot from the owner’s limbs.” He started, for there was a ghastly face looking up at him—a countenance that in its distortion he hardly knew. . “Paul, old fellow,” he said, gently, “had we not better go?” “Bart!” came in a hoarse, fierce whisper, “they must have poisoned her.” “What? Oh, who would have had the heart to do that?” “Poisoned her,” continued Paul, “and yen know it, but you will not tell me. Who could have/ done this where all neemed to love her? Oh, it is too hard' to bear.” “Ypu may be wrong in this,” said Bart, quietly, feeling startled, though at the way in which his friend had seemed to read his thoughts. , “No, I am not wrong. She was poisoned. I feel it. This cursed land. Some one must have been envious and hated her.” : '“That we shall never know. But, Paul, old fellow, we can do no good here. Come away new. Let us go back.” . Paul shook his head sadly. < “No,” he said. “You forget. ‘We are in this strange land where one lives today and is forgotten to-morrow. Not yet, Bart. I am going to see them lay my darting, my sweet, innocent darling, In her bridal bed. I’m not jealous, old fellow— not jealous of him. Death’s own. To-night— to-night ?” I “Ah, yes,” said Bart, sadly. “I had almost forgotten w here we will be "'to-night.” ■ . I “Yes; her mother whispered it to me as she brought me from the room. We fcnow each other now it is too late.” | Paul’s words were correct, for just at ftamdown, amid wailing and tears, Aube’s (flower-covered bier was borne by half a dozen of the neighboring blacks, the white, statuesque figure, with its marble face upon the waning sunshine, to the burying ground, where a shallow grave Was waiting, a priest standing close by. Paul followed, hand in hand with Nou•Se, and as they reached the grave he raised his eyes, w-hich looked to his friend pa if they blazed, for they had suddenly ancountered those of Saintone, standing there with hit mother. 1 Sat Paul’s anger died out directly, for pe could see the man’s face working with opt hysterical passion of his Southern

nature, and as he stepped forward to take a last farewell of her who lay there he utterly broke down, and Paul gave a sigh of relief as Saintone was led away. “It was not he,” thought Paul. “He loved her, too. It was not he.” Then, as in a dream, he listened to the priest, and stood there, stunned, till the last sad rites were at an end. and it seemed to him as he saw the earth cover her from sight that his own life was at an end as well. The wails of the blacks rang in his ear*, and the sun sauk. the darkness was coming on fast as Bart whispered to him: “Come.” In a dreamy way still, as if he would wake from it all soon, he was about to follow, but a cold hand touched his, and a piteous voice said to him in almost a whisper: “Don’t leave me yet, dear. I am so lonely now.” Bart drew back and gave up his idea of taking Paul back to their place as he saw him gravely bend over X'ousie. draw her arm through his, and, followed by a group of weeping people, lead her to her home, the young doctor coming almost last. CHAPTER XXV. Paul Eowther looked so wild and strained that his friend trembled for the result. There was something in the bereaved lover’s eyes which told of a despair beyond words to portray; and longing for this terrible day to end. Bart endeavored to keep near his old companion, trying to find something to say to him from time to time, but owning to himself after any such effort that he had far better have left the sufferer to his silent grief. It was strange how the great sorrow had brought Xousie and Paul together. The cabaret had soon grown deserted, for the blacks had stolen one by one away, till all was dark and silent without, while within hardly a word was spoken, and Paul sat holding Xousie s hand in his, their figures dimly visible to Bart, as they sat close by the open window, at which, only a few hours before, Aube had stood tending the flowers the people around loved to bring for her acceptance. From time to time a groan or a sigh would come front the outer room, where Cherubine was alone with her grief, unheeded by all there, till, growing startled by the woman’s evident suffering. Bart softly rose and crept out into the large, dark, deserted saloon, to where the black servant half lay, apparently mad with grief and agony. He said a few words to her and tried to induce her to converse with him. but it was in vain, and feeling that nothing but time would avail aught, he turned away with a sigh, and was going back to Aube’s little room when he caught sight of a misty lookiug figure passing out of the door into the veranda. “Paul!” he said to himself, “going without me.” His suspicions were aroused, and he followed him quickly to stand in the veranda trying to penetrate the darkness, and make out w hether Paul had gone dow n the road toward the town. Ho was not kept in suspense many moments for, all at once, a piercing shriek rang out as if from behind him. and simultaneously there was a flash of light and the report of a pistol. Bart rushed to the spot not half-a-dozen yards away and just opposite one of the end window s of the long common room. “I was afraid of that,” muttered Bart, as he rushed on, hearing the sharp click of the pistol as it was being cocked, and springing upon the indistinctly sem figure before him, he wrenched the pistol away. *

“Y'ou madman!” he cried, furiously. “Is this my friend—the brother of that poor girl who is waiting in all love and trust for his return?” “For my return!” said Paul, quietly; “why should I return? Why have you taken that away?” “Because you are not fit to be trusted with it. Here! be a man and come and see what is wrong;" for a series of agonizing screams came front within the house, each more piercing than that which had made Paul Lowther start as he drew the trigger to end his weary life. Weak as a child now in his despair, he yielded to the firm grip upon his arm. and suffered himself to be led quickly into the long room, where a light now gleamed, and as they entered it lit up the pallid, startled face of Xousie, who was hurrying toward the end. There was no need to ask what was wrong, for there, just as she had fallen from her seat, lay Cherubine, writhing and groveling on the floor, still uttering shrieks which rang through the place and sent a shudder through Paul. “Good heavens!” panted Bart. “What have you done? Your bullet must have struck the poor creature.” “X T o, no,” cried Paul, excitedly, and he clung uow to his companion; “she shrieked as I fired, and my shot was aimed the other way.” Nousie had gone down on her knees speaking wildly to her old servant and friend, and she looked up appealingly at the two young men for help. “Isn’t there trouble enough, man,” whispered Bart, as the shrieks continued; “are you no better than this poor hysterical savage?” Paul looked at him hopelessly, and then his eyea fell upon the writhing woman. “Let lae come, Madame Dulau,” said Bart, quickly, after carefully placing the pistol in 411 s own pocket. “Have you ever seen her like this before?” “No, ay,” said Nousie, this new trouble rousing ner from her despondent state. “What qjlall I get you—water—brandy?” “Wait a moment, let’s see. Hysterical fit, 1 suppose,” said Bart, trying with all a doctors calmness to examine the woman’s eyttfu “I don’t know. Here, Paul, man,” lift continued, as the poor creature writhed and shrieked horribly, “hold that hand for me. Kneel down. That’s right. Bestir yourself, or we shall have some fresh catastrophe.” “It is aot hysteria. She has been drinking herself mad to drown her sorrow, I suppose. What would it he, madam—arrack?'’ “Oh, no, no,” cried Npusie. “She would not touch anything of the kind.” “In aa ordinary way—no, madam; but now —pah! you can smell her breath. Hold hgr firmly, Paul, man, or she will half kill herself.” “Cherubine, speak to me,” cried Nousie. The answer was a wild shriek of agony, and the poor wretch heaved herself up, so that it required all the strength of the two men during the terrible paroxysm to hold her down. “It is spirit!” muttered Bart to Paul. “A woman not used to it Ah!” he cried,

suddenly, “what’s this she has fO% clenched in her hand?” He dragged open the fingers which were contracted round a small glass phial, started up, held it to the light, and smelt it. “Poison.'* he said quickly, “without a doubt. Here. Madame Dulau, help me.” He gave her his instructions; the simplest of remedies was given, and the agonized cries and struggles at last grew less terrible, and by degrees ceased, the woman lying utterly prostrate, apparently too weak even to breathe. She was sensible, though, and her eyes opened from time to time, to gaze imploringly at her mistress, who knelt by her holding her band. •‘Will she live'/” said Xousie, at last. Bart was silent, for he was in doubt, the pulse was so feeble and intermittent. "Don't let her die, too.” cried Nousie, piteously. “She nursed my darling when a babe. Cherubine, my old friend, don't leave me now.” The woman ottered a low cry of agony, and feebly clutched at her mistress' hand, to lift it to her breast. "She loved you too," whispered Xousie, "and you loved her. She could not bear it. sir,” she continued. "It was to die, and be with my darling who has gone.” "Xu!” thundered Paul, whose whole manner had changed since the discovery of the little phial, and who had been struggling with the horrible suspicion which had come like a flash to his darkened brain, and then brightened till all seemed clear as day. "Xo. it was from remorse. Wretch! it was you who poisoned Aube.” “Hush, man; she's dying, I'm afraid. Don't charge “her with that.” "It is true!" cried Paul, fiercely. “Cherubine!" shrieked Xousie: and she l>ent over the wretched woman's paindrawn face. “Yes.” said the woman, in a strange, hoarse whisper, "1 gave it to her—my darling babe —I loved so, and took it, and I am going to die." "You, Cherubine!" cried Xousie. “Xo, no; you could not kill our child.” “Yes.” she whispered, “I gave it to her. I was obliged: they made me." “What? Ah!” cried Xousie, her eyea starting with horror. "I’apaloi—Mamnuloi—told me— the serpent's will —obliged—obliged " "Genie —gave you that?" cried Xousie, with frantic energy. "Yes—Genie—Jacaine—they made me— I'll tell you—gave it to our darliug.” **You killed my child,” said Xousie, in a voice that sounded unnaturally calm. “Xo; not to kill, (lenie said; to do her good—save her —Ab-h-h!” She shrieked aloud in her agony once more, but Bart's simple remedy gave her relief, and she lay still again, her voice sounding weaker and more hoarse as she spoke again, and now in a curious drowsy way. “It was Genie, missus,” she whispered as she gazed up piteously, “said it would do her good—save her: but it was poison; it killed her, and I said it should kill me, too.”

(To be continued.)

DIGGING ITS GRAVE.

That's What Kngland Is Doing for Her Vast Indian Empire. After dwelling upon the extreme poverty of the people of India, A. .1. Wilson in discussing the affairs of that country says: I'pon this substructure of poverty has the magnificently extravagant imperial power of England in India been built up. It is a power that has meant well many a time, and which has done well in not a few instances; but all Its merits are eclipsed, by its abominable waste, and its end must be that of all empires which have preceded it. Should it not die from Internal convulsions, or from foreign wars, it will dwindle and perish from the exhaustion of the people it rules and sucks dry of their life’s substance, or it will collapse smothered in its debts. The mind cannot contemplate a future so full of risks and sinister probabilities winiout sadness. So much good has been meant to India, so much good done by its English masters, that we could hope still for the future were their ideals even now changed. AA'ere real economy to give place to the present system of pillage; were the interests of the people studied first and our own imperialist follies and vanities put out of sight forever; were the abuses of the India office in London and its hideous robberies abated or swept away; were the cost of the army brought down to the limits necessary to keep our present territory in order, and all conquests henceforth eschewed; were the internal administration opened more fully to natives, so that the swarms of Europeans now earing up the laud as officials or pensioners might be diminished; were the burdens of interest involved by the railways gradually diminished. and in all directions economy and retrenchment enforced —our sway over India might even now be consolidated and made enduring. But the refusal to take this path and the continuance of our present habits and policy mean that our power in India is digging its own grave. And all the glory of our mighty empire hangs by our prosperous continuance there.

Freight by Trolley Cars.

A move has been made In Newark, N. J., which Is significant In view of the present changing condition of general freight service. A bread bakery which runs out fifty delivery wagons daily to points wjthin fourteen miles of the city finds that it can do much of Its freight delivery in a simpler and better and cheaper way. Eighteen of Its wagons are sent to Jersey City In the morning, loaded with hot bread, which is delivered to the locked boxes In front of tbs grocery stores before the stores are open. To save a drive of from fourteen to twenty miles a day for each of these wagons, the firm has made a contract with the local electric car company to run trolley freight cars from the bakery to a new delivery' depot In Jersey City. The cars will be run at an hour of the night when they will not Interfere in any way with passenger traffic. If the venture Is successful the firm proposes to run cars to more distant cities. On the other hand, the traction company Is now seeking to make similar contracts with the brewers of the city, who now deliver large quantities of beer in Hudson County and New Y’ork by wagons. It is but natural that the strongest pressure should be brought against this innovation, but under its franchise the company has the right to run freight cars. Should the night trolley freight service become general it will readily be seen what an important modification of city and suburban delivery traffic will follow. They Write Most Letters in English. Two-thirds of all the letters which pass through the postoffices of the world are written by and sent to people who speak English. Diamonds have been found in fifteen or twenty different localities In California. -■ 1 \

HOMES HIGH IN THE AIR.

A I.ITTLE VILLACE ON NEW YORK’S SKYSCRAPERS. How the Janitors of the Big Downtown Office Buildings Live-Curious Residences in the Metropolis. A thriving little village of one-story cotta gen has sprung up recently on lower Broadway. Xew York. Its population now numbers several hundreds. These curious little homes, says the Xew York Journal, have been built upon the roofs of the sky-scraping buildfugs which line Broadway. Some of them are set exactly on a line of the iwvements of Broadway, while others have been built a few feet behind neat little from gardens. Many of these quiet homes rest on foundations some fifteen or twenty stories in height, and are consequently quite free from damp cellars aud similar complaints. The highest homes in Xew York rent for a few dollars a month, which is very reasonable, considering the value of real estate on Broadway, on which they stand. They are inhabited by the janitors of the immense buildiugs which form the foundation of the modest cottages. Real estate on the lower end of Manhattan Island lias grown so enormously valuable that even the roofs of twenty-story buildings cannot he allowed to go to waste. These remarkable building sites are in many ways as desirable as any in the city. A'egetalile aud flower beds flourish on this Broadway real estate, and probably no other homes iu the city get so much fresh air aud sunlight. The architecture iu many of the small homesteads follows the style of the eighteen or twenty-story foundations on which they rest. In many cases the cottages have been constructed at a cost of many thousands of dollars. Some of them are built entirely of stoue or terra-eotta or other valuable materials. aud are elaborately decorated. The most picturesque of them all is located oil the roof the Produce Exchange Building. The- roof itself Is built of brick and terra-cottto. and ic adorned with a beautiful tower at one ; corner, also built of terra-cotta, and j profusely ornamented. A'iewed from ! the street the tower looks no larger j than a bandbox or chicken-coop. As a matter of fact, however, it is two sto- ; rles and a half in height from the roof up, and contains half a dozen comfortable rooms.

This little mansion is occupied by the janitor of the building and liis family of eight, not counting the (log. The roof of the building is carefully walled in by a high parapet. There are few houses in Xew A'ork which can noast.of so large a front yard. It is nearly a block in length, and quite as bright iu summer as any yard can be. Housekeeping goes on up near the sky much the same as on the solid earth ”<(0 feet below. The front yard is well supplied with clotheslines, on which the wash is regularly hung out to dry. The ground is covered with sand. There are no trees or grass growing there, to lie sure, but there are several flower beds arruuged in wooden lioxes. which add a very pleasant touch of color to the whole. A good-sized dog kennel stands beside the kitchen door, and its ooeupaut is allowed to roam about the roof. The dog has very little to occupy liis time, however, for there are no tramps tip there to drive away from the premises and no wagons to run out and bark at. The children who live in these high altitudes have carried their bicycles, wheelbarrows and other toys up with them, and have a playground all to themselves, which is not equalled by any millionaire's child's playground in the city. Just at present they are running up their sleds to enjoy the sledding in their playground on lower Broadway. The interior of this cosy little cottage is furnished very simply and comfortably. <tu the first floor is a neat little kitchen, a dining room and a parlor. The neatly curtained windows of the little rooms command a magnificent view of housetops and the harbor. In tlie little kitchen a tea-kettle sings away on a neatly blackened stove and a clock ticks quietly on the cupboard. In fact, t lie house is so far above Broadway that it is one of the quietest houses in the entire city, in spite of the rattle and roar of travel down below. The house is heated by stoves, aud tlie people who live there the year round say it is always comfortable. The windows and doors are built to stand the roughest weather which tlie exceedingly exposed position invites. It is never very hot up there, and often when tlie people on the pavements are sweltering with the heat, it is hard to keep one's luit on in the janitor’s skyscraping front yard. There is nothing whatever to break tlie wind, and to a casual observer these building sites seem better fitted for weather bureaus than homesteads.

SOCIETY’S NEW PETS.

Aneora Cats Now Popular for Milady’s Boudoir A new tad being an r.osolute necessity in New York life, and the difficulty being to find enough new ones to “fiil the bill.” c ats have now come in to have their day. Not the old-fashioned, striped, lshmaellike. back-fence tigers, with every man’s hand against them, or the quiet, uurring gray creatures of the hearth of our youth. The fashionable ones are th > Angora cats, and the finer tind the higher the price, of course, the better milady likes them. The fanciers have sold more than ever before inis season, and prices have varied from $lO for a small kitten of doubtful pents to S4O or SSO for the prize-winning beauties of catdom. Of course, these cats and kittens are not new; thef have been known to fame for centuries. But the present fad for them is quits new. and no one need be surprised on entering a fashionable woman's boudoir to see a ball of fluffy cotton on the floor, which, on investigation, will resolve itself into a longhaired and long-tailed Angora. They are not all white; in fact, they are to be ead in all the colors anil stripes of ordinary c:r. s. The white ones are the most valuable.and the beautiful gray and white come next. Long hair, beautiful eyes, and the fine bushy tails, which grow to an astonishing size, are the principal characteristics of these fashionable pets. At the Exchange for Woman's Work they have received several requests to hunt up 1

weH-eondueted and pedigreed Angoras, ami the industry seems to be quite thriving. The cats are very clever. Many of them are used lu trick anirnul troupes, aud a great deal cau lie taught them. As in the matter of [lets, here again the white ones are the favorites. lieiug more* effective on the stage. A saucier who deals largely in small jx*ts, and esliecially cats, says he lias now several orders for Angoras for exhibition purposes. One man has ordered two. which are uow on their way from Paris, aud if they. too. prove a sucoegs, six more will lx* imported for the same purpose. The principal places from which.the cats come are Loudon. Paris, aud the different parts of Germany. Many are raised here, and the kittens are sold when quite young, but they are a risky purchase. lx*ing rather difficult to raise. The lmir grows longer with time, sometimes growing quite bushy on a cat which lives to a revercsl old age*, twelve years or a little more lieiug the length of life allotted these little* jiets. But to choose one's favorite for ilie length and beauty of its hair is an obvious mistake. for it necessarily means less years iu which to enjoy its society.

Renovating Black Silk.

Tn these days when economy is the watchword in many families, even anions those who a re comfortably situated financially, it is well to know how to renovate a black silk dress, without sending it to the professional cleaner. Take it aimrt carefully, picking out all the threads and brushing each piece. Make a lather of soft hot water and ivory soap, the common yellow soaps destroying the texture of silk if used in cleansing it. Lay the pieces on a table that is smooth, dean, and free front varnish. Dip a sponge in the water, and sponge each piece, keeping it smooth all the time. As soon as the water gets dirty, get fresh water, and wipe as dry as possible with a dry cloth. Press with a hot iron, placing a piece of black cambric over it. then lay the pieces away without folding. If a little stiffening is desired, dissolve a teaspoonful of gum arable in a gallon of boiling water, and dip the pieces in it after they have been rinsed. Then wipe with a dry cloth and iron. Any dark silk may be cleaned in the same way. It is often desirable to remove grease spots from silk or woolen goods, without washing or sponging the entire garment, and it can be done by the following process: Scrape French chalk tine and moisten to a stiff paste with strong soapsuds. Make into small,"oat cakes, dry in the sunshine or warm oven, and keep them for use. When you need if. scrape one to a powder and cover the spot with it. laying the silk upon a folded cloth, folding until there are several thicknesses. I,ay two or three folds of tissue paper upon the chalk, and press with a hot iron for a minute or two. taking care that it does not touch the silk. Scrape off the chalk and the grease will come with it. Every trace of chalk may lie removed with a soft, clean brush.

The Legend of Fireplace.

Imng Island has two places of which its inhabitants are very proud—Brooklyn and Fireplace. Fireplace is said to be one of the smallest villages in the world. And it is rather curious that Fireplace is just about as far from Brooklyn as it can get. being near Motitauk Point, at the extreme eastern end of the island. Fireplace consists of t wo stone houses about sixty years old. There is a curious legend about how Fireplace was founded and the way in which it received its queer name. Here is tiie legend: Two hundred years ago Garditier's Island was bought from the Indians by the Gardiner family for a very low price. The purchasers of the island and their descendants lived there for many years. When they came over to Long Island to make any visit to the mainland their servants took the boats back to Gardiner's Island until they should he needed again. When the family wished to return to the island they lighted a big bonfire on Long Island, which was the signal for the servants to fetch the boats over. This was directly opposite the Gardiner homestead. In time two stone houses were built, where tin* Gardiners list'd to light their signal bonfires. When it came to selecting a name the occupants of the houses thought of these old fires and selected what is certainly a bizarre name for a village—Fireplace.—New York Herald.

Non-animal Boots.

There arc vegetarians who deny themselves flesh food on sanitary grounds only, while others cling to the diet on humanitarian grounds. They refuse to eat meat, because they decline even remotely to sanction the slaughter of a living creature for any purpose. This feeling is carried to the point of a fad in England, and, as a result, "vegetarian boots and shoes*’ are advertised as for sale in the Loudon papers. The uppers are made of "jannus corium,” which, by the way. is oak tanned leather, but few people will recognize the fact. This is all the leather used in the shoes, however. The soles are of closely waterproofed flax belting. The vegetarians, in arguing that the skins of slaughtered animals are not necessary, say that India rubber, gutta-percha, steel, iron, and brass nails, cashmere, cotton, elastic webbing, wood, paper, cork, straw, silk, jute and wax go to form the mod ern mystery of a lady’s shoe in which oftentimes no element of leather enters.

An Artificial Human Body.

Novelists have already made the public familiar with the idea of automatons turning iuto living beings, and doctors have of late made many clever transfers of blood and flesh and skin. It appears that the work of making an artificial human body can be carried on by purely mechanical means. A process has actually been patented in Germany for making a substitute for the natural skiu for use in wounds. The muscular coating of the intestines of animals is divested of mucous membrane and then treated in a pepsin solution until the muscular fibers are half digested. After a second treatment with tannin and gallic acid a tissue is produced which can take the place of the natural skin, and which, when laid on the wound, is entirely absorbed during the healing process.

STUNNING SUCKERS.

Fish Captured in an Entirely Nove Way. With the first firm coating of thiu black ice the New England boys pripa re for a va riet y of sport*. A fter fl ingi ug rocks aud slicks on the surface of the freezing water for several days (and thereby ruining the skating! and after sundry stampings of the root on tie* shallower spots to test the liearing strength, the whole village of bovS takes to tlx* river. Besides running “Tommy'’ over the dangerous spots, leaping the air holes, playing hocky by day and prisoner's base on moonlight nights, there is the little known but rarely delightful pastime of suckerstunning. The latter is particularly popular among the skateless lads. It Is only possible during a new freeze: that is. when the stream is covered with clear, fresh ice. Soon after the first cold night or two you will sc in many a village little groups trudging creekwanl armed with short, heavy-headed clubs and an axe or a hatchet. To tin* inquiring cries of such of their mates as are “green" ou the subject, they yell back. “Goin’ a-stun-uiu' stickers!” Selecting a stretch of water not over a foot deep they separate aud move stealthily over the ice. The ha If-inch "rubber" ice bends under their feet and scares them with many a crackle anij prolonged “booni!” Fader it they can see tiie bottom as dearly as from a skiff in summer. The slow-swilling dead leaves drift over the pebbles and muddy bars. Now and again a watersoaked branch crawls past. Ha! One boy bends forward eagerly and raises bis weapon. He sees lying slantwise of the current a dozing old sucker, a iiig one. Hardly a movement of fin is perceptible, yet the lisli is keeping his white nose iioiiited up-stream \V hack! Down comes the dub directly over the sluggard, and the fractured ice. forms a glistening star where the blow fell. Water oozes up from a tiuy hole in the center of the star and through the cracked ice one may see the now unconscious sucker floating with the snowy belly uppermost. A cry of triumph brings the boy with the axe. A bole is speedily eut.a little down-stream from the fish so as to allow for tiie speed of tiie current, and the stiffened fiisli is scooped out. Fsually lie is a "buster." for tin* stunners do not bother with the small fry. By tin* time the axeman has captured the first fish, usually another is waiting to be chopped out, and for two or three hours it is merry sport. It takes considerable skill, too, to stun tin* fish, l'ora very violent stroke may smash tiie ice without affecting the fish. If the axeman is slow the sucker, after drifting a few moments, will revive aud swim lazily away. It is not uncommon for a party of four or five to bring home from thirty to sixty stickers as an afternoon's work. Those, in the small streams, will average a pound or a pound and a half apiece. Iu such rivers as tiie Ilousatonic and Naugatuck, however, some suckers weighing five and six pounds are stunned every fair day. and the average weight is not tinder two and a half pounds.

TRANSVAAL’S PRESIDENT.

Some of the Traits of President KrugerAn Autocratic Ruler. “Oom Paul.” as President Kruger of the Transvaal is affectionately called by his fellow-citizens. *vas born in the Coleburg district of Cape Colony on October 10, 1825. His full name is Stephanas Johannes Kruger. As a youth he received his training-on the veldt—rifle in hand—more than in the school room, belonging to a Hopper (or Separatist church) family that excelled in hunting and paid little heed to education. In fact. President Kruger is a man of few accomplishments, and his skill in diplomacy may be said to be instinctive. It was Cecil It bodes wdio said that of all the men he had ever dealt with President Kruger was the only statesman by nature. When the great trek, or march, from Cape Colony to a virgin country began in 1835. Paul was ten years old. For a year the Kruger family halted in the Free State, and then they crossed over into Natal, where the disastrous fighting with the Zulus at Busman's Hiver occurred, the trekkers afterwards taking up farms in the Transvaal. In his eighteenth year Paul Kruger was elected field cornet, and five years later a commandant. For distinguished services in a nine years' Kaffir war he was promoted to Commandant-General. In 1883 he became President of the Republic. As a ruler, President Kruger is autocratic, any measure advocated by him invariably passing the Legislature, such is his personal influence and the strength of his will. Whenever a serious attempt is made to thwart it, Oom Paul threatens to resign, and the opposition to his wishes immediately dissolves. The President, like all the Boers, is a devoted family man. His wife is said to be a woman of much shrewdness and force of will. They have had several children, and at least one of their children. Egolf. who rode through Johannesburg firing his revolver like a cowboy the other day, promises to be a chip off the old block.

Cutting Class With Shears.

Glass may be cut with ordinary shears almost as easily as thick paper. This may seem like an extraordinary statement, but anybody who doubts it may prove it to his own satisfaction, and surprise his father, too, perhaps. For he may cut a pane of glass into all sorts of shapes—discs, squares, triangles or almost anything else. To do this fill a pail or barrel with water and take the glass firmly in one band and the shears in the other. Hold both under the water and cut just as in cutting paper—not too rapidly, however. The explanation of this seemingly remarkable little experiment is simple. The density of the water is so much greater than that of the air that} it prevents the glass from vibrating except along the line of the cut.

Husbanding the Minutes.

It is wonderful to see how many hours prompt people contrive to make of a day. It is as if they picked up the moments the dawdlers lost. And if you ever find yourself where you have so many things pressing upon you that you hardly know how to begin, let me tell you a secret: Take hold of the very first one that comes to hand. You will find that the rest will all fall into line, and follow after like a company of well-drilled soldiers.

THE JOKER'S BUDGET.

JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. His Regular Rate-Couldn’t Keep Him-As Usual—An Athletic Girl—Displeasing— Crafty--Etc„ Etc. His REGULAR RATE. « “Isn't this rather too generous?" said the clergyman, looking at the *->0 gold piece iu his hand. plied the Sioux Falls man who had just been married. COULDN'T KEEP. HIM. .May —They tell me your engagement Charley Gumplcigh is broken. How did it happen? Carrie—lt is no great mystery. The fact is he was too fresh to keep, that's all. AS USUAL. Lawyer—Yon say the prisoner stole your watch. What distinguishing feature was there about the watch? W itness—l had my sweetheart's picture in it. Lawyer—Ah! I see. A women in the case. AS ATHLETIC GIRL. ‘‘Y ou never told me Miss Fairgirl was an athlete.” "Well, is she?” "Y es. she has thrown me over." DISPLEASING. “She has such a coarse laugh." "1 never noticed that.” “You would if you’d been within hearing when 1 proposed to her.” CRAFTY. H e—What is that, dear? She—Angel food. I made it myself. " He—You’d better eat it, dear. Y'ou’rt the only angel in this house.

KEEPING HIS WORD. Wife—This is cruel! And you told me I need never worry about your coming home late at night. Husband—This isn’t late at nightman’ dear; it’s early iu the morning. A DIAGNOSIS. CboUie—Youagh daughtah lias consented to mawy me aud—cr—l’d like to know if there is any insanity iu youah family ? Old Gentleman (emphatically)—There must be! GUILELESS WOMAN. John—By, by, dearest. Anything I can do for you down town? Wife—Yes, dearest. Have two nice buckets sent up front the bucket shop I heard you telling Mr. Margins about last uight. BUSINESS INSTINCT. “How many do two and two make?" “Six.” “You ignorant little beggar! Don’t you know that two and two make four?” ‘•Oh, yes! I know that, but I thoivght you’d beat me down a bit.” .IUIHCIOUS SELECTION. “Whom did Mrs. Desmond ask to her house party?” “All her intimate enemies and some of her friends.” A CLOSE OBSERVER. Fogg—My wife couldn’t make head or ta 1 out of tnat play last night. Bass—Women are not quick in such > matters. Their intelligence doesn’t seem— Fogg—Well, I don’t know about that. Next day she was able to tell me what every woman in the audience had on. MB..6PATTS’ MISTAKE. “I have kissed you nine times thisevening, darling,” said young Mr. Jspatts, who was trying to take leave of his sweetheart. She fired up, and iu an imperious manner exclaimed : "Go, Mr. Spatts, never to return ! I cannot trust my happiness with a man so coldly calculating as to count his kisses!” harder to Get at. “I suppose that it would take a great deal of observation aud experience to enable a mail to pick the fastest horse entered for a race,” she remarked. "Yes,” replied the man of mournful experience ; "but that isn’t wbat you are trying to do. What you want is to pick the horse that is going to win.”

1118 DEFENSE. Wise —You saw Mrs. Browner last evening ? Husband—Yes, but not to speak to. Wise —What a story ! They tell me you were sitting with her for more two hours,. Husband—True, but it was she who did the talking. A PT.IUST. Old Lady—Can you saw wood ? llollingstone Nomoss—Pardon me, madam, but you are slightly at fault in your tenses. If you mean, can I see wood, I may say that my eyesight is slightly defective. scsrioious. “Ethel, were you out sleighing with the armless wonder last evening 't ” “Why, papa, what a question! What put'such an idea into your head ?” •'I saw your escort holding the lines in his teeth.” HE KNEW THE SMELT.. He was walking along High street, west, at a brisk pace the other morning, when he suddenly stopped and sniffed the air in all directions. His nose had found a familiar odor, and pretty s.oon he traced it to a certain chimney, and a9ceuded the steps of the house and rang the bell. “Excuse me, ma’am,” said he to the woman at the door, "but do you keep a cook ?” “Yes, sir,” she replied, as she looked at him in a puzzled way. "Is 9be in at the present time ? ” ‘ ‘Yes, sir, but she doesn’t want to see HP agents.” “Oh, I’m no agent, ma’am. You just call to the cook through the speakingtube that the water has all boiled out of her potatoes, and that said potatoes are burning. Smell ’em very plainly in the street. Happens every day at my house. Cook is probably reading a novel or has a cold in the head. That’s all, ma’am. -Nb trouble at all. Good morning 1 ”

Bullet-Proof Mouth.

Wilmer Lefferts, of No. 5010 Foulkrod street. Frankford, Penn., stopped a butllet with his mouth, a feat that he does not care to accomplish again. A revolver in the hands of a playmate was acedentally discharged. The bullet passed through young Lefferts' upper lip, knocked out a tooth, and fell ou his tongue.