Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 March 1896 — Page 5

CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)

,Thec in a low, clear roice she began to •dug herself. Gracious could not understand a word, for the language was strange. But the air caught his untutored ear, and he mentally contrasted the low, rich, ringing notes and the graceful music with those pot-house strains which formed his experience of vocal harmony. Gracious could hardly believe his eyes that this gay young ■woman, seated caressingly on the Granger’s knee, with one foot daintily beating time to the tune, was the same who entered the room so pensively a moment ago. And when the endcof the song came she gave her companion a light kiss. The stranger appeared somewhat mollified. “That’s better,” he said, patting her on the back. “More like that and we shall be good friehds again. But your moping and musing, and sitting alone won’t do; it’s as bad as praying.” He laughed uproariously during this speech, but his voice thickened at the latter words with drunken indistinctness, and he thrust out his hand aimlessly at the gin bottle. Just then Vanity noticed that the shutter was lying open. She started to her feet. “Who opened the window?” she cried. “I did—l,” he answered tipsily. “I was like you, listening to the rain.” Meanwhile Vanity, who had half sprung across the room to the window, caught sight of the retreating face of Gracious Me. “There is a man looking,” she shrieked out. “A man watching us! Be quick! We are lost.” The shutters fell wide open and she raised her hand, and Gracious, even in the terror of his flight, saw the tall man start from his chair and snatch up the gin bottle. Gracious, making madly for the garden gate in the thick darkness, went head foremost into a gooseberry bush, and had not recovered his legs before he saw the gigantic figure of the drunken man wildly gesticulating around him. Little Gracious leaped up, and.ran from one bush to another in the extremity of fear, the tall man flying after him. The chase was short, the bottle fell on his head with a crash, and he dropped on the ground insensible. When the spy recovered his senses he found himself stretched on a sofa in a room which he soon recognized as the parlor into which he had peeped. Beside him sat Vanity, but the fatal stranger was gone. Gracious started and groaned. “How are you now?” asked Vanity in a low voice. “Better, miss, thank you,” he replied, as submissively as if he had been in hospital. “You had better have a cup of tea before you leave,” said Vanity. “Then you hhall see how you are, and I dare say you can walk home. Do you live far from here?”

“Not very, miss; a good bit, though,” replied Gracious. He had wit enough to admit as little as possible. Vanity brought him a cup of strong tea, and a plate of bread and butter, which he devoured with great rapidity, and, after a second cup, he declared he felt well enough to walk home. “What brought you here?” asked Vanity. Gracious saw that she trembled. “The singing, miss,” he replied. “I heard it from the road, and came into the garden to listen. Is a man to be chivied up and down for that, and have his brains knocked out of him with a bottle?” “Listen, my good fellow,” said Vanity, laying her hand on his arm, and seeming more at ease. “That gentlem'an you saw was a friend of my father, who had been spending the evening with us. He is very excitable at all times; and to-night, being tired I suppose, he drank a little freely, and did not quite know what he Was about. He mistook you for a burglar. He felt very sorry when he saw how much you were hurt. He had to hurry away to catch the midnight train, but he left these for you.” She held out in her hand three sovereigns. “One thing you have to promise,” Vanity said. “You must not say a word about what happened here to any one. Do you promise me that? and will you be careful to keep your word ? If you do, the money is yours.” The wretch steadied his villainous faculties for one lie more. “I shall never speak of it while I live—never,” he replied. Vanity gave him the money. He left the house, and she closed the door upon him. The next morning, when the woman with whom he lodged was bathing his head, she remarked with great surprise that it had been bound up with a lady’s pocket handkerchief of fine quality. When she was gone away, Gracious looked at the handkerchief, and, noticing that in pse corner there was marked “S. Barnitt,” he put it carefully aside, as something that might turn out valuable. CHAPTER X. The next afternoon Nancy Steele stepped into my shop. “I have something very particular to tell you, doctor,” she said. “There is no use in keeping up any affectation, for real difficulties have to be met. I shall speak to you quite freely, even if you should think me wanting in modesty.” “No fear of that, Miss Nancy,” I said, wishing to help her out. “You are Willie Snow’s most intimate friend, I think?” inquired she, looking me straight in the face. “Did it ever •trike you that he had—a liking ter me?" “Ever strike me?” cried L *T know •11 about it.” “He never told me,” rejoined Nancy. “I guessed it, though.” And she hung her head a little lower* and blushed quietly out of Bight. “Miss Nancy,” cried i, “this world would go on better than It does if women would only speak thej $ minds, and not say no when they mean yes. A girl ought to be proud at winning such a young man’s heart.” “I have not won it,” she said, shaking her head. “He has fallen in love with a young woman wh® lives in that horrid old farm up the hill.*’ “Has he indeed?” said I, feeling in honor bound to know nothing. “Yes,” she proceeded deliberately; “and be Is going to marry her.” “Whewl” I exclaimed, raising'my eyebrows. “How do you know that?” “I guess it,” she replied, “and I am in a most difficult position. I have found out something abouf Miss Hardware—if that is the odious woman’s name—which Willie ought to know. And yet, if I tell him, he will think me jealous. Pei*-

haps I am jealous,” she whimpered; and when I encouraged her to speak on, she told me the whole story about Gracious Me. Then we talked things over for an hour or more, and I resolved to lay the discovery before Will in a complete and convincing form. “I doubt if Hardware is her real name,” she remarked. “I forgot to mention that the wound on Clock's head was bound up with a lady’s pocket handkerchief with a name in the corner —S. Barnitt.” “Barnitt?” I cried, recollecting all of a sudden that this name had occurred in the conversation which I had overheard between Vanity and her father. “Her handkerchief—with the name Barnitt upon it —O, there is some deep, deep villainy here!” I wrote a line to Will, asking him to come over and see me in the evening, and I also made another arrangement, which will discover itself as I proceed. Then I carefully thought the whole matter over, and felt myself ready. When Will appeared we stepped into my little parlor, where I asked him to sit down. “For, mark what I say, Will,” cried I. “Before you rise from that chair you will hear something to make your ears tingle; something to surprise you, Will —to alarm you; something to make you thankful that other people are wide awake, while you are dreaming in Delilah’s lap—Delilah's lap, Will. What do you say to that?” He showed less astonishment than 1 expected, but he read my meaning. Hereupon I related the whole story of Gracious Me’s adventures, withholding the facts which connected Nancy with the affair. He listened attentively, his countenance fell visibly; and when I described Vanity perched on the stranger’s knee, singing the French song, and kissing him, Will winced like a man cut with a knife, “Where is this man—this Clock? A drunken scoundrel, I daresay!” he cried. “Can I speak to him myself?” “That you can,” I replied; “here and now.”

Gracious Me was sitting in my kitchen at this time by arrangement, and when I called at the top of the stairs he came shuffling up. I must say, when he entered the parlor, I felt ashamed of him; he looked the very image of low villainy. And then Gracious Me told the whole story, as only such a human toa'd as he could tell it; and poor 'Willie! his face was painful to me. We dismissed Gracious Me. It was wonderful what a change this short interview had worked in Willie. He looked so downcast that I heartily wished we could both part without another word. “Doctor,” he said, rising from his seat, “doctor—l—l loved her! Oh, how I loved her!” “Not her, dear boy,” cried I. “Something you thought she was; her you could not love. Willie, this girl is either married or not married. In either case she is wicked.” “You cannot be sure of that,” burst out Willie. “She told me there was a dark mystery in her life. This man may be a brother, or a relative.” “He is her husband, Will; she is'gqing to run away from him with you. Let us see,” said I, crossing over to a little chest of drawers. “One link in the chain is missing. What is this young woman’s real Christian name? Not Vanity, I suppose?” “No; Susan.” “Then,” said I, opening the drawer, “the link we wanted is found. Here is the pocket handkerchief with which she bound up Clock’s head, and her name is in the corner.” Holding the handkerchief in his trembling fingers, Willie searched out the particular comer and read her name. “Will,” I said, “when I overheard that long talk between her and her father she spoke of two persons—Charles Hardware and Joseph Barnitt. Of both these men,” I continued, “she spoke in almost equal terms of intimacy. Both were said to watch her. She feared both.” Willie sank into a chair quite overcome. “I could have sworn—l could hare sworn —she was true,” said he, in a low, intense tone. “That she was in trouble I knew, but not this —nothing like this.” “xou believe with me she is a married woman?” “I do.” “And from this night you have done with her?” “From this night I have done with her.” I said no more. The lad’s honorable spirit I well knew, and was sure he would never do wrong willfully, and with his eyes open. I don’t deny that I felt some pity even for the young woman, wicked as I knew her to be. I fancied her tears and despair when she found herself discovered. But I had done my duty. I felt that then; and I feel it now, although, to be sure, we were wrong in thinking her a married woman. CHAPTER XI. By this time Willie Snow was fully persuaded that his late sweetheart had been laying a snare for him, and meanwhile Nancy’s turn came sooner than she could have expected. He called upon her at her own home one evening, and was pleased to find she was alone. Yet Willie felt chilled when he entered the parlor, and even Nancy looked confused. He threw an eye round the room, with its signs of order and comfort on every side. Did any thought of Vanity cross his mind, looping the wild roses around her lovely head, and laughing out of her reckless beautiful eyes? Perhaps so, but the contrast only confirmed his present resolution, for it is a weak, changing world; what we glory in one day we despise the next —the only thing we are constant to, you observe, being our own dear selves. “Nancy,” said Willie, in a grave voice, so that the word sounded like a minutegun. “I am listening,” replied Nancy calmly; but her heart began to beat. “Would you—would you marry me if I asked you?” “You had better ask me and see,” replied Nancy, laughing with a sprightly air. “Will you marry me, then?” he asked, obedient to her direction. “x will,” replied Nancy; “I like you.” Somehow Willie felt a little dashed by her cool ways, and hardly thought her an object for caresses, though she was a fine young woman, you observe. So he pursued the business vein. “There is a matter I have to mention to you,” said Willie, after a pause during which both looked awkward. “A young lady lives up the hill at the old farm wh<e-» —"

“Do yon mean « person who goes by the as me of Hardware?*’ asked Nancy, in a cold, stem voice. “Yes,” replied Willie. “She and I ” “I never wish to hear that woman’s name mentioned,” Nancy said, in the same freezing way. "Say nothing to me about her.” Willie was speechless, and before he could collect himself Nancy rose and left the room. In a moment or two the door opened and Nancy re-entered, leading her aunt by the hand. This old lady advanced to Willie with a gratified air. “I have heard all about it,” she said, “and lam very much pleased. My niece will make a good wife, she is an excellent girl.” “I hope I was not too hasty,” said Nancy, interposing with no bad grace. "I could not help running to tell aunt. I like to tell her everything, especially when I am happy.” She let this last word slip bashfully, and by that stroke somewhat revived Willie's spirits. These had in truth begun to sink; for a sudden suspicion had darted across his mind that Nancy, the better to fix him to his proposal, had drawn her aunt in as a witness. Nancy showed him out. The front hall was narrow and screened from observation by a cross door, but the seclusion of the place did not suggest anything particular to Willie. Nancy slowly opened the street door. “Good-by. Willie,” she said, rather disappointed, I suppose. “Good-by, Nancy,” he replied, in no brighter voice. An hour later Willie called on me. “1 have followed your advice, doctor,” ht said. “I have asked Nancy to marry me.” “Well,” said I, “I think I should have told the other first. It does not matter much, I suppose. Still, you can only mar ry one woman. Will—at a time, I mean Seems to me you are engaged to two.” "I wish I was engaged to neither,” said Willie, in very bad humor; “nothing 1 do is right.” “You will write to Miss Hardware, I daresay,” I remarked. "No; I must see her,” said Willie nervously; “we arranged a signal which w t could use in case we wanted to meet at any time.” As I looked at him the thought struck ■me that if before they met some stray hint of the matter were to reach Vanity’s ears, he would not be altogether displeased! (To ba continued.)

THE PRUNE INDUSTRY.

How French Growers Prepare the Fruit for Market. Consumers of the useful prune, that simple fruit which takes the place of richer preserves, may not know how the French growers prepare the fruit for market, and what a process of the most primitive kind it goes through before packed for exportation. As soon as the prunes are harvested they are taken toa building called the frultery, where they remain a few days to complete maturity. The fruit is then subjected to not less than three, and frequently four, distinct cookings before being pronounced fit for the market. The first two preliminary cookings have for object evaporation of water contained in the fruit; the final cooking, which dries the fruit, Imparts a certain brilliancy much sought by buyers. The sun-dried prunes are most delicious to the taste, but the exigencies of the trade do not permit of such long preparation. In several districts of France the most primitive means are practiced In curing the fruit.. In Provence it is plunged in pots of boiling water, then placed in baskets and gently shaken until cool, when it Is put upon long trays exposed to the sun’s heat to complete the desiccation. At Digne the prunes are not gathered until ripe. Women feel the fruit with their nails to avoid injury to the soft pulp. The fruit is strung on small twigs In such fashion as not to touch. These sticks of prunes are stuck into straw frames, which the suspended In the sun until the prunes easily detach from the stick, the pit is then removed and the same process of sun drying is gone through with, and, when thoroughly desiccated, packed for market. The trays used In the rural districts are quaint affairs, varying In form, dimensions and construction, according to locality. The peasants make them during the winter months, and they are clumsy and cumbersome, and the only excuse is the peasant cannot afford to buy and Is not skillful enough to make better ones. Perhaps some day a little Yankee skill may enter Into this primitive construction, which is now a frame made of hoop, to which Is fastened a wicket-like bottom fashioned from rushes and willow twigs. At least this is the method of preparing prunes In France. The California fruit growers may have a better one.

British Guiana's New Governor.

The new governor of British Guiana, Sir Augustus Hemming, has had no previous experience as a colonial governor. The career of Sir Augustus Hemming has so far been severely official. He was born in 1841, the son of a wellknown surgeon. After receiving his education at Epsom College, Mr. Hemming entered the colonial office in 1860 and served as private secretary successively to Lord Blanchard, Sir R. Herbert and Earl Cadogan. He became a principal clerk in 1879, and was sent on special missions to Paris in 1879 and 1881, to Berlin in 1887-’BB, and again to Paris in the following year. He was British delegate to the West African Conference, which met at Berlin in 1884, and was knighted In 1890.

Indifferent to Smallpox.

While traveling in India, says a writer, my attendant came to my room one morning with my early coffee and toast. “Master got medicine?” he asked. “No,” was the reply. “Why, Sammy?” “My wife got smallpox, sahib.” He said it in a most cool, indifferent manner, as if the fact that his wife having the smallpox was the most commonplace thing in the world. That morning’s lunch went to feed the hundreds bf Bengal crows and kites that hover around the hotel. If a man never knew how to swear before going to India he will soon learn after a week’s experience with Hindoo servants. “There’s nothing like that.” “Yes there is,” responded the other. “A drink of cool well water from the old oaken bucket that hangs in my father’s well.” Woodworth went back to the printing office, sat down at a desk and began to write, and in the course of the afternoon finished the song. The music is by Klallmark, and the melody is that written for “Araby’s Daughter.” Massachusetts and Rhode Island are the only States which cling to the annual election of their Governors.;

GOSSIP FOR THE FAIR SEX.

ITEMS OF INTEREST ON THE FASHIONS. The Fate of a Flirt—Newest Mourn* inf Bonnets—Church Women to Cut Wood— Few Women Breathe Properly THE FATE OF A FLIRT. An exchange tells of a young man it refuses to name who has long held the role in the village ns "heart smasher,” and “imagined that half a dozen of the choice specimens of womanhood were anxious to hear a proposal” from him. Times were hard, and he finally concluded to make a selection. “He went from one to another, until the entire six said “no,” and has reversed his opinion about girls.—New York Advertiser. NEWEST MOURNING BONNETS. The widow's bonnet in mourning continue to be either the Mary Stuart or the capote shape, simply covered with English crepe, having the white ruchlng in front and with dull black ties. The veil, of course, hides all but the extreme edge of the bonnet. For lighter mourning, where no veil Is worn, the small poke shapes are seen, having their edges defined with dull jet anil decorated with high loops of dull black ribbon. The silk bonnets, no matter how light the mounting may he. are no longer counted good form. The French milliners are using quantities of dull jet and much silk crepe upon silk bonnets wd dw dw dw wdww on crepe Itonnets. hut this rather elaborate style of trimming for mourning Is not counted good form by either the English or American milliners. One rule always stands; a mounting bonnet should always have the ties of the dull shade of black ribbon.—Ladles’ Home Journal.

CIHJRCH WOMEN TO CUT WOOD. The ladles of Equinunk, Wayne county, Penn., have adopted a novel way to secure money to build a new Methodist church in that place, liy entering Into a contract with the Equinunk Chemical Company by which they agree to cut and pile 250 cords of acid wood, which belongs to the company and Is located near that village. The cutting and piling of the wood are to he done In a workmnnltke manner under the direction of Mr. Green, of the chemical company. The ladies have sent circular letters to their male friends to assist in the work, In which they provide that “the best of the chopping is reserved for the ladles.” The letter further says; “In order that there may be no failure on our part to fulfil this contract we appeal to you to help us. If previous engagements prevents you coming,kindly send us by mail one or more dollars and the work will be done for you.”—New York Herald. WOMEN BREATHE IMPROPERLY. As a matter of fact, not one woman In a hundred breathes normally. The respiration of the average woman varies with every change of mental state or physical condition, and It is a rare thing for a woman to use her lungs to the best possible advantage without a previous knowledge of physiology and an appreciation of the merits of physical culture. * Desirable as Is a thorough exercise in breathing. It is not safe to experiment in the matter. A very little Instruction on the subject will enable any woman to comprehend the precise art of filling and emptying the lungs on scientific principles. After this has been acquired, the chief thing Is to breathe In as much sunshine ns possible and to believe in the efficacy of oxygen as a remedy for nearly all the ills that are fashionable. The following are some excellent rules for improving thp respiration ana bringing it up to a normal condition; Stand at an open window or recline on a couch, with the waist and chest unconflned; hold the chest walls high and inhale in slow, long breaths; exhale as slowly, three times only at first. Gradually the number of times may be increased and the time lengthened for the breathing exercises. Fifteen minutes, twice a day, at least, should be devoted to this exercise to accomplish the desired result.—New York Journal.

WOMEN AND THE BICYCLE. A woman should always select a machine with a wide space between the steering center and the saddle-post truss, said a veteran instructor, as it makes mounting much easier. You know a woman mounts from the front, pushing herself back on the saddle, while a man mounts In exactly the opposite way. If your wheel has this wide space, and you put your right foot on the pedal, pull your skirt around in the back, and press the bust hard against the handlebar,you will find that mounting is easy, and that four-fifths of your skirt won’t be hanging on the left side when you get up. The fashionable way to ride now is to sit well forward and erect in the saddle, getting the full reach. A full reach of the arm is also desirable, for besides being the most graceful way of riding, it Is the easiest If the arm is bent, one soon becomes tired, but if it has full play, and the handle-bar is grasped very loosely, it becomes a simple matter to ride any distance. Many ride with the handle-bars too high. The proper way is to put the post of the bar well down into the head of the wheel, turning the adjustable bar up to meet the reach. Then, too, in selecting a wheel, never buy one with too long a crank, and one over five and a half or six inches gives too wide a circle and throws the knees tip in an ungraceful way. If possible, get a crank without pins through it, for then you are in no danger of getting your skirts caught. In selecting a saddle, get one with a backward and forward adjustment, and let It be pretty Wide, with a short peak. A narrow handle-bar is mneb the best, as a wide and high one involves a great deal of lost motion. TAILOR GOWNS. The tailor gown, In all Its simplicity and beauty, is fne of the favorite spring costumes, and deservedly so, for there is nothing prettier nor simpler than a well-made tailor gown. -

Skirts are to be narrower this spring, but will be out in very much the same way, fitting smoothly over the hips, the fullness all in a small space In the back. The bell skirt, somewhat fuller than it was two or three years ago, is to be worn, and Is one of the most becoming of all skirts. Park blue is to be a favorite color, and a great many costumes have already been made up.with plain skirt and smart little jacket trimmed with black braid. The effect is somewhat of a military jacket, and the braid is put on in front and around the coat; sometimes frogs are used in place of the braid. These jackets are always tight-fitting. Tan and gray cloth are also made up in these gowns, and there Is a certain shade of warm chestnut-brown serge which is also fashionable. The Eton jackets will bo worn with the spring»costumes, and an unusually pretty style has the skirt very much gored, and opening at the side of the front breadth like the Wcycle suits. An Eton jacket, tight-fitting at the back, has revere turned back from the waist to the shoulders, and lined with blue satin. With this is to be worn a silk blouse of blue and white checked silk. Odd colors ore combined in these costumes; blues are lined and faced with green and heliotrope; browns also have heliotrope or yellow or red, and although there are only glimpses to be seen, these glimpses give a touch of color which makes the gown chic, or otherwise. Shepherd’s plaids and checks of all kinds are made up into skirts to be worn with fancy waists and black jackets, and there are some entire costumes of the plaid. One of dark green and white fine check has linings, facings, and bauds about the skirt of dark green satin.—Harper’s Bazar. FASHION NOTES. The next season will be characterized by the prevelance of ribbons on all garments, and especially on capes.

I.ace net crown pieces, embroidered In mock jewels, black spangles and jet, nre very elegant for dressy bonnets or toques. - Hound capes of cloth nre trimmed with a neck ruche and jabot ends down the front, of changeable or chameleon taffeta. Graduated loops of ribbon are a sea ture of hats that tend to broaden the effect, as they nre placed in sets of three loops, one set on each side of the crown. Tigre aigrettes—one color striped with another—also tiquote aigrettes, are Innovations of the season. Black aigrettes, tipped and decorated at the base with turquoise, constitute another diversion. A new veil, which promises to catch fashion’s fickle fancy, has been introduced. It is a black net with white embroidery effect and applique border. Also a plain black having only the applique white border. Persian printed cambric waists are seen in a very handsome assortment of dark colorings. Dark birds, with effectively pointed wings, are on round summer hats. Bows of very wide light ribbon and straw are set on top of the crowns. The late hats from Faris and London nre exceedingly gay and bright. They nre of silk straw, as light as possible, delightfully lustrous and beautifully braided or plaited. Odd toques in black and yellow or green and white, edged with cuba-loop-ed braid, have rosettes of the same braid already in place at each side of of the back beneath the rim. Bold stripes and big checks aro looked upon with favor by all classes of buyers. White collars and cuffs on colored waists are by no means unusual. and a tiny piping of the material used for the body of the waist is sometimes introduced into the collars and cuffs. London and Tarls tailors nre adopting smaller sleeves. In London they call them coat sleeves, while in Paris the Marie Antoinette sleeve prevails—an equally clinging sleeve, with two odd little puffs around the elbow and perhaps a graceful ruffle of lace falling on the band. An English walking hat has a moderately high crown and straight, rather narrow brim. The trimming is a band of velvet put smoothly around the crown and finished with wide,flat loops and one end. These loops are not drawn in but laid flat, and over the middle is a feather ornament with standing quills. An evening dress of velvet has a plain skirt,close-fitting body and puffed sleeves of the velvet. The corsage is cut square, and the back sections, wide shoulder straps and pointed fronts are of very rich brocade. There is a ruffle, basque skirt lined with plain material the color of the brocade. Now that almost everybody has gotten rid of her bracelets, these ornaments arc again coming into fashion. They arc shown in a heavy, twisted bars, a favorite style being a' Spiral through which the hand is slipped, the spring of the metal causing it to close around the wrist. A new glove has a very long wrist, edged with fur and open on the outside of the arm, instead of the inner side, as usual. This opening is cross-laced, thewrist being loose, the opening beginning just above it, j A novelty collar is made of very close-ly-plaited silk, lined with some supporting material. At intervals among the plaltings of silk are set #ny ostrich tips, either matching the silk In color or in s6me contrasting shade.

FEW BUFFALOES LEFT.

ONCE THEY ROAMED THE WESTERN PLAINS IN COUNTLESS NUMBERS. Riding for Fifty Miles Through a Herd of 4,000,000 Animals—How They Were Ruthlessly Slaughtered. Few people are now aware of the former wonderful extent of the buffalo, writes Frank G. t'arpenter iu the Washington “Star.” No animal has ever existed in such large numbers nor covered so milch territory. Buffaloes formerly roamed over the country as far east as Washington city, anil there are records of herds of thousands being seen in Pennsylvania not long before the Revolution. A hundred years ago they came in great droves to driuk at the Blue Lick springs of Kentucky. Daniel Boone speaks of them, and it la now only a few years since they existed by the millions on the great plains of the West. In 1871, now only twentyfive years ago. Colonel It. 1. Dodge rode for fifty miles through a herd of buffaloes which he estimated ns lioing twenty-five miles wide. Tills was along the Arkansas River. At one point he was aide to get upon a hill, and he says lie could sec' this vast herd of buffaloes stretching out from six to ten miles in every direction. The herd was moving, and it. took five days to pass a given point. Professor lloruaday says that at the lowest estimate there were 4.000,000 buffaloes in this one herd, and this, as I have said, was only twenty-five years ago. In 18tl8 a traveler along the Kansas Pacific Itnilroad states that the train at one time passed through one hundred and twenty miles inf solid buffalo. The plains were blackened with them, and more than once the cars were stopped by them. The best authority of the National Museum ns to the early buffalo is George Catlln, who spent the greater part of Ills life in the West studying the Indian, and who made many pictures of the buffalo as they existed before the grent destruction liegnn. He tells of herds of millions, and says that Ihelr roaring sounded like thunder, and tells how the Indians killed them by tiro hundreds of thouancls for the skins, for which they received only a pint of whisky apiece.

You would not think that Hitch Immense hords could be wiped out. The buffalo, however, nre very dull boasts In ninny ways. They are a mixture of stupidity nnd intelligence which It Is hard to understand. These mighty herds were made up of companies, or clumps, of buffaloes of from twenty to one hundred each, each clump Is'iug led and taken rare of by one strong bull. In going for water one of the old cows of the clump would start ahead nnd nose nlong the track of a dry stream for miles until it found u water-hole, the others of that company following in single file. The herd ivouhl then drink, and would Ho down to rest before cuting. This would seem to mean a high degree of Intelligence. But such evidence Is not shown in their attempting to escape from man. A hunter might lie with a repeating rifle near such a herd, and pick off ono after the other without apparently frightening or scaring the rest. If they rnn it was usually against the wind, and they were cowards except when brought to hay. At first the skins brought but little and the temptation to kill was not: so great. Still, thousands were killed for the pure fun of killing them. The southern herd, whleh contained about four million, existed as late as 1870, up to which time only about half n million buffaloesayear were killed from It. As sooji.fis the*railroads came In, limiters came by the scores, and, with breech-loading rifles, killed the unlmals by thousands. Captain Jack Bridges killed Ly contract 1142 buffaloes of this herd m six weeks. Buffalo Bill earned Ills title by the numbers of buffalo lie killed in a short time, and Mr. Ilornaday tells of one hunter who told him that lie had killed sixty-three buffaloes In less than an hour. In some places the buffaloes were driven over precipices, breaking their necks by the fall, and being skinned afterward. With some of these hunter murderers the ordinary process of skinning was not fast enough, and they invented a way of skinning the buffulo by means of horses. They would cut the skin at the neck and down the belly and around the legs at the knees. A stout iron liar, like a hitching post, was then driven down through the skull about eighteen inches into the earth. Then a rope was tied to the thick skin of the neck. The other end of the rope was liitched to the whiffle tree of a pair of horses, or to the rear axle of a wHgon. The horses were whipped up, and the skin was either torn In two or torn from the buffulo, with about fifty pounds of flesh sticking to it This method, however, was not a success, and was soon given up. About fifty thousand buffaloes have been killed for their tongues, no account having been made for their skins. For a long time every skin sent to the market represented about live buffaloes, the others having been destroyed. Thousands of buffaloes were killed by firelight and moonlight, the fires in such cases being made for the purpose. During the year 1373 the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Ife Railroad alono carried a quarter of .ft million buffalo robes, and more than a million and a half pounds of buffalo meat, and during the three years following 1873 more than three million buffaloes were slaughtered by the white men, and of these 1,800,000 were Wasted. The great southern herd had been annihilated by 1875. At this time the market had been overstocked with ■robes, and the hunters got from 65 cents to |1.15 for them. •There was then left only the great herd of the northern part of the United States. Its destruction began in 1880, at which time about 100,000 buffaloes were shipped out of the country every Vear. The Indians of the northwestern territory marketed about 75,000 buffaloes a year. As soon as the railroads came in to the country the hunters came in, and In 1882 there were 5000 hunters and skinners at work. They killed the buffaloes by the thousands for their robes, getting from $1.50 to $3.50 apiece for them, and within about four years this other vast herd was wiped out. In 1876 it was estimated that there were half a million buffaloes within a radius of 150 miles of Miles

City. In 1884 the last carload of buffalo robes ever shipped to the East was sent over the railroad. The hunting of the buffaloes was immensely profitable. According to the figures of Mr. Hornaday, hundreds of thousands of dollars were made out of the slaughter long before 1840. From 1535 to 1840 there were five expeditious, which killed buffaloes worth more than a million dollars, and the buffaloes killed up to that time within twenty years realized a sum of more than $3,000,000. There are records of single fur firms who handled hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of hides. Joseph Ullman. of New York and Sr. Paul, in 1881 bought about $90,000 worth of buffalo robes. In 1882 an equal amount, and about $120,000 worth of buffHlo hides. This firm within four years paid more than $310,000 for buffalo rolies and hides, and, in connection with ono other firm, they sold enough skins to bring in alnnit $2,000,000. There were a number of other fur dealers who made money out of the business, to say nothing of those who got rich off buffalo meat and buffalo bones. In a trip which I took over the Canadian Pacific road a few years ago, 1 saw mountains of buffalo bones at many of the stations. The railroads shipped them East by the millions of pounds. In 1872 more than 1,000,000 pounds were shipped over the Atchison. Topeka and Santa Fe road, and this read in 1871 handled nearly 7,000,000 peiindH. The bones were sold by the ton, to Is' ground up for fertilizer. In some cases they were crushed before shipment, and crushed 1 tones were worth $lB a toil, while the uncrushed sold for sl2 tier ton. The meat of most of these buffaloes went to waste. It seldom brought more than two or three cents a pound, and it was chiefly of value when dried or jerked. Jerked meat sometimes brought as high as ten cents per pound, the tongues being worth much more.

REMEDIAL FOODS.

Standard Articles of Diet Which Are Said to Have Medicinal Value. Celery is Invaluable as a food for thos»> suffering from any form of rheumatism, for diseases of the nerves, and nervous dyspepsia. Lettuce for those suffering from insomnia. Watercress Is n remedy for scurvy. Peanuts for Indigestion. They nre especially recommended for corpulent diabetes. Peanuts are made into a wholesome and nutritious soup, nre browned and used ns coffee, are eaten as 11 relish simply baked, or lire prepared and served us salted alumnds. Onions nre almost the best uervino known. No medicine Is so useful In eases of nervous prostration, nnd there Is nothing else tlrnt will so quickly relievo aud tone up a worn-out system. Onions nre useful in all cases of coughs, colds and Influenza; In consumption, Insomnia, hydrophobia, scurvy, gravel, and kindred liver complaints. Eaton every other day they soon have n clearing and whitening effect on the complexion. Spinach Is useful to those with gravel. A spurngiis Is used to Induce perspiration. Carrots for sufferers from asthma. Turnips for nervouß disorders and for scurvy. Haw beef proves of great benefit to persons of frail constitution, and to those suffering from consumption. It Is chopped fine, seasoned with salt, and heated by placing It in a dlsli of hot water. It assimilates rapidly and affords the best nourishment. Eggs contain a large nmount of nutriment In a compact, quickly available form. Beaten up ruw with sugar they are used to clear and strengthen the voice. With sugar and lemon Juice the beaten white of egg Is suld to relieve hoarseness. Honey is wholesome, strengthening, cleaning, healing and nourishing. Frcali ripe fruits are excellent for purifying the blood and toning up tlie system. As specific remedies, oranges are aperient. Hour oranges are highly recommended for rheumatism. Cranberries for erysipelas are used externally us well as Internally. launons for feverish thirst In sickness, for biliousness, low fevers, rheumatism, coughs, colds, liver complaint, etc. Blackberries as a tonic. Useful In all forms of diarrhoea. Tomatoes are a powerful aperient for the liver, a sovereign remedy for dyspepsia and indigestion. Tomatoes are Invuluable in all conditions of the system In which the use of calomel Is Indicated. Figs are aperient and wholesome. They are salil to be valuable as food for those suffering from cancer; they are used externally ns well as internally. Apples are useful in nervous dyspepsia; they are nutritious, medicinal, and vitalizing; they aid digestion, clear the voice, correct the acidity of the stomach, and are valuable In rheumatism, insomnia and liver troubles. An apple contains as much nutriment as a potato in a pleasanter and more wholesome form. Grapes dissolve and dislodge gravel and calculi, and bring the stomach and bowels to a healthy condition. Pie plant Is wholesome and aperient; is excellent for rheumatic sufferers and useful for purifying the blood.

Canada’s Black Musk-Rats.

Along some of the rivers In Eastern Ontario, says the Pilot Mound (Manitoba) Sentinel, there exists colonies of jet-black musk-rats. The fur is much more befiutlful and valuable than that of the ordinary brown musk-rat. It would be an interesting experience to Introduce a few of the little black animals Into the lakes and rivers of the northwest, where they would soon increase In numbers.

Gegorian Calendar in Russia.

Russia,whose calendar is twelve days days behind ours, proposes to change to the Gregorian calendar after beginning of the new century. The authorities have not yet decided whether to jump over the thirteen days at once or to accomplish their object gradually, by omitting the first twelve leap years of the century. It would require fortyeight years to bring about the change. —New York Independent