Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 April 1896 — Page 5

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CHAPTER

A knock -was heard at the door; the «axne maid who had harried out into the *arden came in. “Please, ma’am, the doctor is here.” “Burt why do you look so white?” the •nlstrees asked, reading the servant’s face "with ■Quick apprehension. “Is Miss Maud tworse?” “Please, ma’am, the doctor must speak to yon.” The maid lingered for a moment “What is tie matter?” Vanity asked. “Our smallest young lady has got smallpox,” the servant said, shuddering as she epoke. “Master has seen the doctor, and we don’t know whet to do.” Vanity Hardware (had the terror of that disease which every woman feels, and she turned pale herself. “And the little lady is master’s pet,” the servant continued; “and mistress has ■always made so much of her; and she has elways slept beside mistress, and she won’t hardly go out of her sight” ’’l daresay,” Vanity remarked, “her mother will nurse her.” “There it is, you see,” the said said, ■closing the door, and speaking in a confidential whisper; “master says the mother ■shall notgo near her. You see”—closing the door more impressively—“master is •o proud of missus’ 'looks; and he says the risk •hall not be run.” “Can’t they get a nurse?” Vanity asked. “Don’t you see,” the other replied, “that’s where it is. This little lady is so nsed to mistress singing to her, and being with her, that she will not allow any nurse to come near her; and we only keep her quiet by the five minutes saying: ‘Mamma’s coming, dear;' and even then she bursts out times and times. Amd if you .please, doctor says the little lady must be, kept quite away from everybody; anil your room is the best iu the house for her; ><nd will you please come down stairs? Your room is made dark, and the little lady is to be taken there at onee.” Vanity came out upon the gallery over the large entrance hall, out of which several doors opened and one or two Short flights of steps ran up different passages. At the top of one of these flights stood the redoubtable old lady in a most excited abate. For some inexplicable reason, she had gathered up her-Skirts; and the first idea her figure suggested was that of a stout elderly lady, of inflexible purpose, who was about to wade a river. “I always sand so,” the old lady called out. “This comes of your Sunday -school tracts. But Maud never would listen to advice —not since she was four years old!” Poor Maud, pale and crying, -sat upon a chair. Beside her stood the doctor and tier husband; the wail of the -sick child was plainly heard. At the -sound, the mother Started to her feet. “Augustus!” she called out piteously, “I muert go! Doctor, dosoy that'l am to go! Baby will die if bhe frets on in this way. It is cruel to keep 'me. It is my duty to run whatever risk there may be. Do let me go. I cannot bear to hear her.” “Maud,” her husband said, drawing dose to her, “I cannot .permit it. We must get a nurse. Baby will soon cry herself to sleep.” “Oh, it is cruel!” she said; ‘’it is cruel!” At this point the soldier brother spoke. “I feel for you, Neville,” he-said to his brother-in-law; “but I do think .my -sister fa right. Her duty is with (her child. Let her go, and leave the test in> the hands of God.” “Mind,” the old lady called out,‘tL don’t agree with either of you. Remember that hereafter.”

“Now, Augustus,” the wife cried, ‘'now you will let me go!” Neville, feeling the tide cunning -sharply against him, saw that he must speak decidedly. Like many easy-going people, he could, on occasion, assert himself ir•reastibly. “There must be an end of this,” he said. ‘'Doctor, let us have a nurse at onee. IMaud, you must not go near the child; 'your life is too valuable to us all.” Vanity had watched this scene with a remarkable look on her face; and now She hurried down stairs, and crossed the hall •to the lady’s side. “I will nurse the baby,” she cried, “il am not afraid!” g The whole company stood transfixed. ■The .young soldier acknowledged the power of beauty by gazing for a moment at the stranger with a possibly too obvious admiration, but he soon recollected himself. Maud Neville looked up. *'Qh, thank you, thank you,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the slightest use. Baby wifi have ,no one but myself.” ‘T know, I know,” Vanity replied almost impatiently. “Come with me.” Maud looked up in wonder; as for the rest, they stood in silent amazement; even the old lady was at a loss for a sentence. “Come with me,” Vanity repeated, in a decisive voice. “Bid your servant follow us.” To the sunrise of everybody, Maud Neville rose and walked across the hall with Vanity. The servant followed, and all three went out of sight. Then the maid-servant was seen flying into the sick child’s room, where the sound of closing shutters was heard. Thence she ran up stains and disappeared. Then again she darted down to the doctor and whispered to him. After this she drew down every blind and closed every shutter of the hal! windows, reducing the place to darkness. Then, without explaining these proceedings, she disappeared once more. The whole party still remained motionless, none daring to speak, and in the darkness and suspense it seemed that several minutes passed away. At-last, low, soft, sweet, in the most soothing lullaby note, they heard a voice singing: “Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky.” “Why,” Whispered Neville to his brother, “that is Maud singing to the child. She sings that hymn to her, night by night.” Then, in the semi-darkness of the hall, the husband saw his wife, dressed in a long, loose morning robe which he knew well, bearing the child in her arms and chanting as she slowly moved across the hall. The effect of the song on the sick child sopn appeared. The little weary voice caught up a word or two here and there, and sung it in a drowsy, satisfied tone. “Maud,” the husband whispered, in a low, reproachful voice, ”1 am grieved.” He felt a hand in his own. Maud had op to him from behind.

“Hush,” she said. "Can’t you understand ?” The sweeping gown touched his feet, and the muffled head of ids child was close to his own, as the mysterious figure glided by, etill singing: “Jesus, give the weary Catan and sweet repose; With thy tender blessing May mine eyelids close.” “Why, Maud!” whispered Neville, clasping his wife’s hand, “I could have sworn it was your very voice!” “Is it not wonderful?” she whispered back, “Baby believes she is in my arms, and she is quite happy.” In the darkness Neville felt his wife leaning her head on his shoulder, and pouring -out the mingled sorrow and thankfulness of her heart. Meanwhile the dusky figure was seen slowly moving up the wide stairs toward the room where the child was to be laid. Low, sweet, the lullaby sounded: “Grant to little children Visions bright of Thee, 'Guard the-sailors tossing 'On the deep blue sea.” “But, Maud,” the hudband said, “when she leaves the child in the room, how much better shall we be?” ‘®ear, dear!” exclaimed his wife, but in the lowest of whispers, “she is going to nurse baby through the illness. The room is dark. Baby will never know, till she is well again!” Vanity had reached the door of the sick room. They could now see her figure .plainly, and she turned round, as if to give the mother one last glimpse of her darling. “Through the long night watches May thine angel spread Their white wings above me, Watching round my bed.” Thesong was over. The dark threshold ■was passed. And the brave actress was -shut in with her task and her danger. CHAPTER XIX. The housemaid understood her busiaesa Without waiting for the word of command, she let in the light once more, and the whole party saw each other. “Maud,” the husband said, breaking the silence, “what does all this mean?” “Really, Augustus, you are stupid! Don’t you see? Little Maud thinks lam with her, and going to stay with her! But such a Clever girl! I really thought it was myself singing. She asked me, ‘Have you any little thing you sing to the child?’ So I sung her a verse of‘Now the day is over.’ The verses, the music, the very tone of my voice, she caught on the instant. And then she went in to baby—in the dark—and took her up, singing all the while, and baby put her little head against her shoulder, and was quite soothed and still.” The mother’s tears fell as she spoke, and the husband was moved himself. “What a brave act!” he said. “I should have thought a woman would as soon have walked into Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace. For a poor and lovely girl—for a lovely girl she is—to risk her beauty for the sake of a sick child is real heroism. I shall never forget what that girl has done. And if she were to catch the smallpox, and her face were spoilt, I should never forgive myself.” “No more should I!” the soldier called out. “Never!” “Really, Mr. Pembroke,” the old lady said loftily, “will you be good enough not to be too absurd ? Providence did not expect you to nurse the Child.” “I feel,” Augustus continued gravely, “that I must take the whole responsibility of the young woman’s future upon myself.”

“Not the whole of it, Augustus!” the soldier called out earnestly. “I ought to help you. Share and share alike, you know. No, I don’t exactly'’mean that; but really, old fellow, I could not let it all come on you, you know.” “Listen, Tom,” his brother-in-law remarked; “if that girl were to pay the price of her bravery with her face, I • don’t -see what I could do for her. It would be an awful result of so gallant a •deed. 'lf that happened ” ‘llf that happened,” Tom Pembroke cried, interrupting, with great excitement, “if her face were spoiled, it would not be your business, Augustus. As you say, you eould do nothing for her. In that case, -sooner than she should die of a broken heart, I—l—l would marry ’her myself.” “Thomas Pembroke,” exclaimed the old lady, “ll.am horrified. But while we stand talking here, that complaint”—here she pointed to ithe closed doors of the sick chamber —“may come down those stairs and take some of us into eternity.” Not a 'thought about the little sick child upon whom Death seemed to have laid his haad; not a thought about the brave young woman who had taken the poisoned frame to her own breast. She retreated precipitately, flew into her room and shut her door with .a terrific crash.

CHAPTER XX. Vanity was alone in the darkened sick room. Her little charge was satisfied with the low song of “Now the day is over;” and as often as the small sick voice plain ted out its "Mamma.” the reply of a chanted voice assured the little sufferer that her best consoler was at hand. But the generous glow died out, as all emotion will. Now, in the dark room, Vanity had time to think what she had undertaken; and, it must be confessed, she began to feel afraid. She resolved to stay at her post, however, and, when the sick-nurse arrived, she announced her resolution of sharing the duties, and etill keeping up the kind illusion which gave tranquility to the little sufferer. On the whole she was calm. Now, upon the subsidence of the terrible excitement of the last few weeks, Vanity knew the state of her own heart. The awful end of her father had been a stunning stroke of Fate. Vanity had never known the facts of her father’s life. The robberies of which he was suspected were never, with her, matters of positive knowledge. Still, she knew that her father was a bad, unscrupulous man; his coiduct made it evident that some terrible danger was ever hanging over him. His death, appalling as it was, forever )id the worst facts she suspected from discovery or from legal proof. But Willie Snow had broken poor Vanity's heart In spite of IJs weakness, which she could not but desjise, she loved him still. In her secret Hart she strip caressed the dangerous memory of handsome Willie Snow. The secret threads which bind the heart of a womans to a man are inexplicable. She bought of Ma

winsome ways, his handsome face, recalled their love scenes, hated her rival. la the darkened room of sickness, with peril hard at hand, Vanity Hardware talked thus with herself: “I have exposed myself to fearful danger; if my life is sacrificed, shall I much regret it? But if I survive, and leave this room with beauty unimpaired—then, Mistress Nancy Snow, beware! You stole my lover from me. I shall repay you. I know my power. I shall steal your husband from you. Then tear your hair as I tore mine, and sob and cry for death as, under your cruel hands, I sobbed and raved and cried! If lam not to make Willie my own —why, here I have exposed myself to danger—let me be struck down; but if I come forth hence unhurt, then I shall treat my life as my own. Willie! Willie! by your weak, impulsive nature and by my beauty you shall yet be mine! After that, come what may!” From the hour she took this resolution, all her fear of infection or of death was gone. She even courted danger. There was her fatalism again. “Dare anything; give Fate every chance of wrecking your scheme; and if you pass unscathed, then call your life—call Willie’s life —your own!” So she went about her self-im-posed task no longer wrth the tenderness of her first impulse, but with a stony calmness, under which lay a secret sense of approaching triumph. Time went by. The attack of smallpox was not severe, and the child soon began to mend. Vanity in the dark room still played her part of mother, and the child would never be still unless her “mother” ■was at hand. She grew fond of her little charge. The child was the most patient of sufferers; would whisper “Thank you, mamma,” with a grace and prettiness every time she was tended; Vanity began to feel a new affection.in her breast, a tenderness for this little child. Had this story been narrated in the shape of a comedy, a pretty scene might have been arranged here. A well-ordered flower garden, toward the end of October, in a genial year when summer lingered long. In the midst of the garden a large, low house, with a long veranda in front, and above the veranda a balcony. Maud Neville standing below, talking with Vanity Hardware in half whispers, lest by any chance the small ears inside should hear. If Maud Neville’s husband was proud of her looks this was not to be wondered at. As to Vanity, she had never looked half so lovely. Her recent illness had left a transparency in her complexion, and her'eyes shone with softness and brilliancy. The scene is net yet complete. Besides these two pretty women, a third figure often appears. Tom Pembroke liked a morning cigar, and his habit had been to smoke it while walking in the kitchen gardes. All of a sudden Tom took a fancy to the flower garden. So sure as Maud began to talk with VatfTfy about the sick child, so sureiy would Tom be seen idling round the garden with his cigar, and taking an opportunity of raising his hat to Vanity, whom everybody there treated as a lady without knowing why. Maud felt that she must warn her •brother to be careful. She loved her brother above every human creature except her husband and her children; but still Maud knew what men are, and she was a plucky woman who always said her say. She determined to tell Tom plainly that this sort of thing would never ■do. (To be continued.)

WHIPPED THE WRONG BOY.

Bait |the Old Gentleman Earned the Applause of the Ladies. He was one of the oldest commercial travelers in Texas, and resides in Houston. He was out taking In Children’s Day and the boat races. Late in the -evening he boarded a car to go to town. There were twenty-one passengers and.one small boy in that car. As it turned into Washington Street a ■oo-ujple of ladies 'filed in, and one by one the passengers rose and gave up their seats. By the time the car reached the Grand Central Depot there were twenty-two ladies, one large old gentleman and the small boy seated, while a new of able-bodied Houstonians developed their muscles'by hanging from tbe ends of straps. The old commercial traveler seemed to be watching the boy, but the small boy was not watching the oommereiabtraveler. At tbe market square -two more ladies boarded tihe car and reached for straps. The old traveler instantly rose, and with a courtly bow -surrendered his seat. Then he looked around for a seat for tbe ether ilafiy, and his eyes fell on tbe small boy, still seated and whistling to himself. A pained expression spread over the old man’s face, and a startled gaze .quickened on the boy’s features as a large, firm hand reaches his arm and a pained voice said: “John, get up at once and give your seat to the lady! Great goodness! That I should live to see a 'boy .of mine sitting and whistling while a ilady is standing! What will your mother say when I tell her this? John, I’m going to teach you right here to never disgrace my name again I” The small boy listened, open-mouthed, trying to wriggle out of the old man’s firm grasp, but found himself suddenly elevated, face downward, over a broad knee. He had just time to say, “I ain’t your boy!” when there ensued what is described as one of the grandest, most symmetrical whackings ever administered in this or any other age. During the performance the boy repeated his original statement several times, in several different keys, and then he was stood upon the floor of the car. “He shouldn’t lick the boy so if he’s no relation of his,” remarked the conductor. “I never seen him before,” whined the boy. “What? what?” said the commercial traveler, “does the young rascal deny his own father?” Then the old man put on his gold specs, and his expression of astonishment was beautiful to see. “Why, bless me,” he exclaimed, “why, I thought it was my youngest boy, John. Dear me! I* hope I have not inconvenienced you, young man. You’ll excuse me, won’t you?” But just then the car had reached Main street, and the boy got off, saying something that sounded like “police.” When the old man looked about the car he found everybody smiling, and six ladies arose and quarreled with each other for the privilege of giving him a seat.

Rights of Cities.

The Buffalo Board of Aidermen proposes to spend ?10,000 to test the validity of the 999 years’ extension of the Buffalo Street Railway Company. As the Enquirer says: “No pains and money should be spared to test whether a grant of the city of Buffalo to a corporation for thirty years can be extended by the Legislature for nearly a thousand years without any knowledge of our people or our officials.” The principle involved is of Interest to ever/ city in the country.

THE JOKER’S BUDGET.

JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEM OF THE PRESS, No Reason for Haughtiness—Made Light of It—Two Birds With One Stone—An Improvement, Etc., Etc. Made Light of It Mr. Dolley—What do you mean by saying that your father made light of my proposal? Miss Giggles—Well, he did. He used It to ignite his cigar with.—Detroit Free Press. An Improvement. Professor (reading)—“Dropping the reins, Mr. Flood assisted his wife from the carriage, and together they entered the store.” Can any little boy improve upon this sentence? Bright Pupil—The reins descended and the Floods came.—Life. Would Expect Him. Watts—So you don’t look on young Sharpe as a coming man, don’t you? Potts—l would if I were in charge of the penitentiary.—lndianapolis Journal. Orpheus and Morpheus. Miggs—Your husband is a great lover of music, isn’t he? Mrs. Diggs—Yes. indeed. I have seen him get up in the middle of the night and try to compose. Miggs—What? Mrs. Diggs—The baby. The Influence of Food. “I am so fond of candy,” said Miss Kittish to Mr. Goal In. “That’s what makes you so sweet, doncher know.” “You must believe, then, that food has an Important eflfeet on a person’s characteristics.” “I do.” “What a quantity of noodle soup you have consumed, Mr. Goslin.”

In 19-. “Do you know” He blushed coyly, then hid his face behind his fan. “This is Leap Year, and I am half tempted to take advantage of one of its privileges?” Miss Bloomernew had been paying him attention for some time without coming to the point. Now, however, the slight hint was sufficient.—Puck. A Little Knowledge. First Small Boy—What is filthy lucre ? Second ditto (who nails the newspapers)—Why, money wi h microbes on it, of course. Changing the Name. “John.” she said, rather sternly, '“'the coal bln is empty.” “Yes,” was the distoasoliaie reply, “it's that way most of tbe time. It's never of use in any immediate 'emergency. I’m going to change its name, and call it a coal-has-bea®..”—Washing-ton Star. The Reason. Pastor—Do you ever play witih little bad boys, Johnnie? Johnnie—Yes, sir. Pastor—l’m surprised, Johnnie:! Why don’t you play with good little boys? Johnnie—Their inamums won’t let ’em.

Wise Precaution. Maude—lsn’t that new (process of photographing through solid substances wonderful? How Ido wish I -could get a photograph of Algy’e braiaa.l Belle—Why, do you think there is anything serious tin* matter with his brain? Maude—No. but I want to tee enve he has one, you know.—Detroit Free Press. Until. “How lias Bluffton been doing?” asked the man who had been away from his native community for some time. “Well, he has made a great deal of money, but” “Getting along well, is tee?” “Well, he seemed to get along ifirtrtrate until he tried to pass some of it.” Two Birds with One Stone. “Molly, what shall I get you for y«ur birthday—a doll or some candy ?” asked a Texas mother of her pet. Molly was silent for a few moments, and then a happy thought struck her. “Get me a doll—one of those candy dolls that I can suck.”—Texas Siftings. Philosophy on the Cable. In the car: “Do you believe in the greatest good to the greatest number? “Well, yes.” “Then don’t try to sit down on this side—eleven of us in this row have comfortable room now, but if you sit down, twelve of us will be crowded.”—Chicago Record. Popular Women. Miss Longpurse—Why, of course, Helen of Troy was beautiful. Do you suppose there would have been a twen-ty-year war over her if she had not been beautiful? Mr. Shortcash (forgetting himself)— Oh, I don’t know. May be she was rich. - New York Weekly. ' No Reason for Haughtiness. Editor—We won't print any such stuff as that. Contributor—Well, you needn’t be so haughty about it. You’re not the only one that won’t print it.—Pearson's Weekly. j Coing DownDe Hote—Yes, Brown is going down hill. Saw him in very tough company last night. De Blote—Dear, dear! Is it. possible? Where? De Hote—Talking to a steak at the Case Rosbif.—New York Press. An Instance. “Moral courage," slid the teacher, “is the courage that mates a boy do what he thinks is right, (regardless of the jeers of his companions.” “Then,” said Willi*, “if a feller has candy and eats all |hisself, and ain’t A Generous Offer. “Your money or ylur life!” shouted

the footpad, with more tirusquerie than is permitted iu social circles where diamonds are worn. "Permit me.’’ said the gentlemanly book agent, opening his valise, “to offer you in lieu of my insignificant existence this calf,bound, gilt-edge, hand-tooled ‘Life of Napoleon.' in three volumes, payable on the instalment plan. Make your own terms; we never disappoint a subscriber, and if" lie found himself alone.—lndianapolis Journal. afraid of the other fellers callin’ him stingy, is that moral courage?”—Cincinnati Enquirer. While You Wait. Fitfully biased the lights in the Bongtong restaurant. "Hullo, Beardsley,” called Dumley, as he sat down at the next table; "been waiting long?” Beardsley shook his head morosely. “Half an hour,” he answered in a voice of gloom. “That so?" continued Dumley; “what’s your order?" "Two eggs, boiled four minutes.”— Rocklaud Tribune. Hardened. “I just saw a man slip on a banana peel, and he came up smiling and never said an unpleasant word.” "I guess he must be learning to ride a bike.”—Puck.

THE FIVE-FINGERED ORANGE.

One of the Rarest Plants in the World, and It Wears Gloves. One of the rarest plants in the world is the five-lingered orange. The Japanese who, as well as the people of China, makes a specialty of cultivating ornamental curiosities in the vegetable world, consider this one of the most remarkable, and value it accordingly. But a single plant, which has been purchased and brought to San Francisco, where it now is, has. it is believed, ever left Japan. The plant that bears the extraordinary fruit is an eccentric member of the vegetable kingdom. It is a dwarfish tree, which when fully grown does not average mon* than" five or at most six feet in height, and is crooked enough to have been planted in the garden of the crooked man spoken of by Mother Goose: 1 "Who walked a crooked mile, Aud found a crooked sixpence, Against a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat That caught a crooked mouse And tlrey all lived together In a crooked little house." For a crankeder plant does not exist. The gnarled trunk is tangled up with twisted branches, that, seem never to have (Cully made up their minds which ■way to go, so that It would indeed be a difficult task to find two const-cutive Inches in the whole tree whose lines of •direction are the same.. The consequencemf this is that the plant, which, if it could be straightened out, would be at least twice as taSl, Is as broad as it Is high. As fitting its cross-grained character, it has on hand hidden under its leaves and located in the most unexpected places, an unstinted supply ol long, tough, needle-ipolnted 'thorns that understand their business thoroughly. But all such little unpleasant peculiarities on the part-of the ifive-flngered Japan orange tree may 'wdll be forgotten when it is seem in July, covered Width Its beautiful blossoms, like those •Of an ordinary orange tree, Ibut 'tinted with a beautiful iiiiiik 'blush of color and exhaling a most delicate and delicious perfume, or later in the season, when its fruit has ripened, and it lookc ■asilf it was hung about with great yellow glovgg, These gloves :nne so redollent of the same perfume rtiiiat scent* the blossoms thirt the odor <can >be recognized a full mile from (Where the •oranges are growing. On (‘lose examination, however, the fruit proves to reseiilblen human hand more rtihan doei aify glove, .a lean, slender-fingered yellow Chinese hand, with thumb and forefingers complete, each finger tlpjied with the long nail, t hought so stylish In China, 'hard, pointed and claw-Mke., extending a goodly length beyond the ends of (the .digits. The hand Is partlj o]M*ned. ithe fingers curved a little upward, toward the palm, and the fruit itself very large, especially in proportion to the size of the tree that bears it. often reaching. when full grown, ten Inches measuring from tlie wrist tn the end of the middle finger, including the nail. Supports are always necessary, or the weight of the orange would tweak the branch upon which it grows. The contour of the hand exactly represents that of a human being, the proportional length of the several finger* and the thumb are correct, and even the cords on the back of the hand of a rather emaciated person are represented by the divisions of the fingers that can be traced from the point where they separate to the wrist. The fruit, though exhaling so delightful a perfume, is not edible, as it is not properly an orange at all, but belongs to the osage oranges, of the Madura, no member of which bears fruit that can be eaten.

Curious Cuban Forts.

The most invulnerable and curious of all the forts erected in this part of Cuba says a letter in the Philadelphia Times, are made of old steam boilers. At every factory of any age there were a number of worn out boilers which had been thrown aside. Each was about thirty feet long and six feet in diameter, and made of steel 5-8 to 3-4 of an Inch thick. These were taken in hand at the machine shops, the braces and heads were knocked out and a doorway and loopholes cut in them. They were then carted to the top of knolls and set up on end and braced in place with railroad iijon. Three floors were put in each, and a ladder was hung against the inside of the shell as a means of communication from top to bottom. These novel forts are so secure wlws the steel door is once closed upon the garrison that some of the planters have lost confidence In them for outposts. They believe that the men of their garrisons feel such confidence that they go to sleep as soon as they get inside.— New Orleans Picayune.

HOW A STORM IS BORN.

lt» Parent is the Sun, While Rain and Snow Are Only Its Companions, How storms are born and how they start on their journeys, is something few persons besides weather sharps know anything about. Sergeant aud “Farmer" Elias B. Dunn held forth most interestingly the other afternoon ou this subject. The wind was blowing at.the rate of sixty to eighty miles an hour through the streets, and. it seemed, with even greater force up outside the tower of the Manhattan Life building. Overhead was the bluest sort of sky, the weather was crisp and cold, and save for the sharp whistling and crackling of the | wind it would have been a perfect win-| ter’s day. "Yet," said Sergeant Dunn, "this is | what is scientifically known as a storm, i People generally think that a storm is the rain and snow, but they are not ' the storm itself, only occasional accoin- : paniments of it. Storms are the movements of great currents of air over vast ; areas. The sun begins them all, its i beat gathering up the moisture and whirling it through the air. Storms are the battles between great areas or banks of low and high pressures." “Now, as to what causes or brings about the birth of a storm. Storms are generated where there is excessive heat and moisture. They are built up in various ways, at times being formed rapidly and at times slowly, .lust how they start, just what is their very beginning, it is not always possible to say, for on occasion they are formed In a great circle, and again in a very small center. But the general principle Is this: From some cause or other, the heat of the sun gathers up so much moisture that at a certain point in the air there begins to be a great bank of atmosphere that is warmer and damper than the current immediately surrounding it. The heat, carrying the moisture with it, ascends in a column, and as it rises and commences to spread gathers with it more and more moisture. "These are called centers of low pressure. They are to be found In till parts of the atmosphere, near the earth, or miles above It. It Is quite possible for a , storm to l>e raging up hi the clouds, ami yet not. be felt on the surface of the ground. So, nTso, there might be a serious storm near to the earth that would have no effect upon the upper currents of air. Science. It. Is interesting to know, has never liven able to determine precisely how far the atmosphere extends above the earth. It Is commonly believed among sclent Hie meu now that the atmosphere’s height varies according to certain conditions. It is thought to be nt least fifty miles above the earth, and it Is supposed that at times It may extend two hundred miles up. lam talking now, understand, with regard to cyclones only. These low pressure areas of storm are in vast extent, and they have two motions—first, their progressive or onward motion from west to east nt a rate of about twenty-tflve to thirty miles an hour; and, second, the spiral centripetal movement of their moisture-soaked air currents at eighty to ninety miles an hour. “As this great bank of winds of terrific force, with its curving, circling motion, moves along, the heated air feeds on the moisture It can pick up in its flight. The more moisture it can get the greater the intensity of the storm. Should its course lie over dry and arid regions, little by little the violence of the winds would decrease, but if it is moving over a seaboard district, where it can suck moisture from the surface of the water, its power may grow to almost tiny point. "Opposed to tills are the areas of high pressure, banks of cold, dry air, which condense the moisture when they come in contact with It. That is, they will condense unless the area of low pressure Is too strong and is under too favorable conditions to be done away with. This is the great battle thait is constantly taking place In the air •a'bove us. "The high pressure areas keep forcing themselves upon those of low pressure, their currents of cold,dry air having a tendency to dissipate and destroy the moisture-laden clouds of the cyclone, or to drive it onward. “Tornadoes are a different sort of storms. They are formed on the south, or southeast quadrants, or portions, of fln area of low pressure in the warmest part of the day, and in some instances are caused by warm, moist air from the south clashing with currents of cold, dry air. These two currents are frequently thirty to forty degrees of temperature apart. Their clashing causes an almost instant displacement of the air, ami the battle between them is brief while often terrible in its effects. This conflict of the currents is the tornado. Its conflicting and battling Winds may be likened to an enormous screw witli Its point resting upon the earth and moving along at an enormous rate of speed.”

He Proved the Omen.

“Speaking of sailors’ superstitions,” remarked the veteran lighthouse keeper, Josh Reeves of Sea Isle City, “reminds me of an incident that happened half a century ago off the Five Fathom Bank lightship, in wjileh a sailor's prediction, based on an omen, resulted fatally to the prophet himself. “A bright winter morning had caused the crew of the lightship to row a short distance away in a small boat in search of codfish, which are very abundant off the capes in winter time. A few hours’ fishing resulted in a goodly catch and a return was made to ths lightship. The tish were cleaned ami the refuse thrown overboard, but a calm sea, with not a breath of air to disturb it, caused the refuse to drift in a circle around the ship. Toward noon a large flock of geese came in sight and settled under the lightship's very bows and commenced to feed. The water fowl became very tame and swam chattering and hissing close to the ship’s sides. “Josh Crowell, a grizzled old member of the crew, shook his head and predicted death to some one on board within twenty-four hours. He said that whenever geese became so tame as to feed around a vessel's bow or stern, it

was an unfailing omen of impending death on board. Cromwell's companions laughed at his fears, but he told them to bide their time. "Toward noon a strong gale came out of the nor’east and kicked up a heavy sea. Crowell was on the forward or bow watch. "Many of the crew were in the main cabin below enjoying a social game of euchre, checkers, or dominoes, when suddenly they heard the sound of a chain running rapidly through the starboard bow scuppers. We rushed up in dismay, thinking the windlass gearing had given way. The sight witnessed will never be forgotten. Crowell had been caught in the relief chain and ground around the rapidly revolving windlass. His death was instant. His omen came true.’’—New York Herald.

NOSES MADE GOOD AS NEW

Celluloid, Patience, and Maybe a Finger Needed. “Building a nose,” sounds queer, writes Dr. Whitlnger in The New York Journal and yet that is just what surgeons are doing almost every day. Every surgeon who possesses mehanteal ability enough to be called a “plastic surgeon” will take a contract to build a nose just as a builder takes contract for building a house. The operator, in the case of a man the bony portion of whose nose has been destroyed, first removes the dead bone until he finds healthy bone. He Is then ready to proceed with the building. Holes are drilled into the sound bone for the reception of the metallic frame work which Is to support the flesh that will give the nose the appearance of having Its natural bony and cartilaginous support. Probably the most famous rase of nose-building is that of the late Dr. Thomas Sabine. The operation was performed at Bellevue Hospital. The patient's nose had been entirely destroyed by n disease called lupus. The surgeon transplanted the middle finger of the patient's hand to replace the nose. To the house surgeon felt the task of destroying the nail. For tills lie used a. powerful acid. In reInting his experience recently he said that he supposed his work had provert successful, but after the linger hart been transplanted he found that the mill was Inclined to grow again, and ho was obligml to use the acid reputedly before It was finally destroyed. There are surgical records of other similar cases in many of which the nail had grown on the "finger nose,” In ordinary cases whore only the bony portion of the nose lias been destroyed celluloid Is said to prove most satisfactory, as It Is better borne in living tissues than any other substance. A ease was recently shown at the Academy of Medicine. The patient was n young man whoso nasal bones hart been destroyed through disease. The skin had fallen into the cavity. The shape of the nose was restored by an aluminum tripod. The surgeon drilled a hole In the frontal bone for Hie reception of one branch of the apparatus, while the other branches fitted Into holes which had been drilled In the upper jawlxme. To the untrained eyethe nose had every appearance of being; normal.

About the “Stopper,”

“That man is a slopper,” remarked i» police officer to a Star writer a few mornings since, “and he and his class give us any amount of trouble. If he stole we could reach him by the law,, but as he only finds, we cannot easily reach him.” In further explanation he said: “A slopjier Is a man who> searches through the garbage cans ini the alleys in the rear of the boardinghouses and private houses. Home only search for spoons, knives and forks, that are thrown into the garbage receptacles by careless servants, for it is a fact that there are more sliver spoons and knives amt forks thrown away with the garbage than is stolen by servants, though the contrary is generally bellevedL Theslopper is generally an hour or so ahead of the garbage collector, and he Is often more regular and careful in his rounds than the garbage man. " ‘By Industry we thrive,’ as the Ihie In the copy books used to contain, and by industry on a good West End route, especially one which takes in a number of boarding houses or hotels, a slopper can find enough table ware to pay the expenses of ids tour. Often he makes a rich find. Very frequently he lias permission to ‘slop’ the can from the owners of the houses themselves, for he tells them he is on the lookout for stray pieces of meat, etc., which he sells to those who have dogs to feed. Some stoppers are honest enough to return any silver ware they may find for the dog meat privilege, but It is a terrible temptation to many, and one they cannot, or do not, at times withstand.”— Washington Star.

The Capitol’s Weather Map.

The immensity of the rotunda impresses the visitor at the Capitol, the frescoes are attractive, the turbulence of the House and the quiet dignity or the Senate are Interesting in their contrast, but, after all, the feature of universal interest in the white-domea building is the weather apparatus. It is something novel to glance at a map which tells you whether it is raining or snowing, sunshiny or cloudy in Montana. Illinois or Louisiana, or anywhere else in this broad land. You can tell whether the friends whom you left at home are wearing mackintoshes or airing their spring clothes under blue skies, while even the tempeature ami tli<> direction of the wind are recorded. But the map is not the only feature. There is something mysterious in the cabalistic characters which are traced on revolving cylinders, and which tell at a glance how hot or cold it is, or how hard the wind is blowing, or whether the sun is shining. The instruments which furnish the information are up on the roof of the Capitol, but delicate wires, charged with electricity convey the weather to the equally delicate instruments within the building. All day long a crowd of interestedyisitors at the Capitol throfig around the pretty mechanism and never cease to wonder at the progress of the age.—' Washington Post ..I ■ '• '