Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 November 1883 — Page 3

THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER.

E. J. Wheeler, In Wide Awake.

You've quizzed me often and puzzled me i^'g^e

long, .. You've asked me to cipher ana spell* You've called me a dunce if I ans^rer^a

Wrong,

Or a dolt If I failed to tell Just when to say lie and when to say lay, Or what nine sevens may make. Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay,

Or the i-forget-what-iU-namelake, Ho I think it's my turn, I do, To ask a question or so of you.

The Hc-hoolmaster grim he opened his eyes, JJut said not a word for sheer surprise.

fun you tell what "phen-dubs" means? can. Can you say all off by heart The"oneay twoerylckery ann,"

Or tell "alleyes" and "commons"apart? C:tn you fling a top, I would like to know. Till It hums like a bumble-bee? Can you make a kite yourself that will go 'Most as high as the eye can see, Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wine. And the littls birds come and lights on

Its string?

The schoolmaster looked, oh! very demure. Hut his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure.

Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swing*, Or the color Its egus may be? Do you know the time when the squirrel

brings

I t.s young from their nest in the tree? Can you tell when thechestnuts are ready to drop,

Or where the best liazel-milR grow? Can you climb a high tree to the very tiptop.

Then gaze without trembling below? Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run,

Or do anything else we boys call fun

The master's voice trembled as he repiled: "You are right my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed.

HILDA.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY, AUTHOR OF "DORA THORNE."

CHAPTBKIX.

Lord Bayneham inherited the courage of hie ancestors he said to himself that liis love was a danger he must fly from, and, cost him what it might, he kept liia resolution. Whenever he heard that Lady Huttonand her beautiful ird were to be present at a ball, party, or fete, there he refused lo go. Ho would not again voluntary meet the young girl who was never for a moment out of his mind. He could not help his love but he would not indulge it weakly, at the price of his honor.

Barbara Earle was his promised wife, and he would be true to her, trying his best to forget the fair yonng girl whom he loved better far than life ^itself. What matter if his life were cold and dreary Others had to tuffer—wliy not he? Better any suffering than to fail in honor better death itself than to be untrue.

came an altered man. He failed in no duty or kindness, but he looked like one whose life had lost its charm. He was not sad or melancholy, never listless or moody, but there was that in his face which told the whole story.

Barbara Earle saw it, and Lady Bayneham thought all was not well with her son. Barbara watched him silently for days and weeks, until she became puzzled herself. The name of Lady Hutton's ward never once crossed his lips. Once or twice she purposely mentioned a party or ball which Miss Hutton was to attend, but ho showed no anxiety to be there. Several times the "new beauty" had been discussed in his presenco, but he made no sign.

Barbara Earle was puzzled, and half thought there was nothing in it but a collection of her own jealous whims and fancies.

So a month of the brilliant London season passed, and never once did Lord Bayneham allow himself even to look upon the fair young face he loved so well. Hilda could not understand it. She knew nothing of the engagement between the earl and his cOusm. It had never been mentioned in her presence, and she wondered,_ until wonder became pain, why he did not call upon her or try to see her. She had never forgotten him that one morning had colored her life she had remembered him, thought of him, dreamed of him and loved him, but she had never hoped to meet him again. When he suddenly stood before her that night at Lady Morton's ball her heart, almost stood still. Then he had spoken to hor, and gazed so long and earnestly upon her, had seemed so utterly and entirely happy, that she thought tie carod a great deal for her. And now it was four weeks since, and he had never once sought her. Hilda could not understand.

Every morning she awoke, hoping sho should see him during the day and every day brought its own bitter disappointment.

In the meantime, as Lady Hutton had before seen, lovers in plenty surrounded the beautiful heiress. There was no one more popular or more admired. "The beautiful Miss Hutton" was declared to be the belle of the season but flattery, homage and ad-

Ration brought no pleasure to her. Slie'Srw^id have exchanged all for one woi from Lord Bayneham.

T.iere was a grand fete at the Botanical Gardens, and Miss Earle wished to attend. It was arranged that Lord Bayneham should escort both ladies. It was a beautiful day in the beginning of July. The sky was cloudless, the air soft and balmy. The gardens were magnificent, the flowers in full perfection, the show of roses were superb, and crowds of splendidly dressed ladies surrounded them.

As Lord Bayneham walked slowly iwnone of the more retired paths, .vltowing Barbara and the countess at a little distance, the whole party suddenly met Lady Hutton and Hilda. They were surrounded by quite a little court of admirers. Captain Massey, hopelessly in love, and Mr. Seton,who never neglected an opportunity of studying Hilda's face. There was a murmur of polite greeting, a dispersion of the group of admirers then Lord Bavneham found himself, he hardly knew how, by Hilda's Bide. His heart beat almost painfully he spoke a few confused words, and those without looking at her.

The path was narrow, and the countess said, half impatiently, "We cannot all remain together. I am going to see the roses. Claude, you wanted to look at the geraniums they are over there. Perhaps Miss Hutton would like to see them."

In less than three minutes after her ladyship's little speech, Barbara Earle found herself with Captain Massey. The two elder ladies enjoyed a half confidential chat over the roses, and Lord Bayneham and Hilda were left behind with the geraniums. She bent over them, but he made no pretense of even looking at a flower. His lips grew white, and he would have flown From the danger, but could not. "Are you not well, Lord Bayneham?-' asked Hilda, looking up into his sUU face. replied,

"It

never comes to an end."

am quitewell."

Then a dreary silence fell upon .ill kinds of wild thought rushed Hilda's mind. She tried to if it were possible she could 1 (fended him. Was this stern, nan the same who had lingered side in Brynmar woods, and to live in her smiles on the

them: throng think have silent by he:•eeme n*ght of the ball? What could have broug1 -1. about so great a change. "Sh I we follow Lady Hutton? she sai I, at length.

He .wed assent but. as good or bad fortune would have it, they took the wrong turning, and instead of reiom--ing their companions, found themselves quite alone in a broad, shady path. "You •.vilV-b'- pli-ased to see so many

"xou .vuro pn-asea

Bee so uiiuiy

purfume and warm together have been too much for you." Lord Bayneham looked gracefully at his cousin

inS^£fletSwri»e

v* 1

They came to the end of the path, and before them they saw the wonderful roses, round which their companions stood admiringly. "Even you, Lord Bayneham," said Hilda, "were different to Brynmar. There you talked to me, bnt in London you bave forgotten me."

She never forgot the startled look he bent upon her. "Hush, Miss Hutton," he said, "vou torture me. You ask me why I do not visit you. I will tell you. I never seek you because I am pledged to marry Barbara Earle."

He saw the lovely face grow pale and death like, the dark, violet eyes become shaded and dim, the sweet lips quiver and grow strangely still. He saw all this and would have given his whole life for power to have uttered one word but honor bade him be si lent. "Hilda," he said, gently, "in years to come you will perhaps realize what it has cost me to tell you this. I never thought much of my future or ray fate until I met you in the woods of Brymar. It was all settled then."

She tried to say she wished him all happiness, but her trembling lips could utter no words. He saw I^ady Hutton and Barbara Earle coining toward them.

Lady Hutton was utterly unobservant, but Barbara Earle's dark eyes saw strange pallor upon the beautiful young face—saw that some keen, sharp pain had taken all brightness and happiness away. She saw, and her noble, womanly heart pitied the fair girl, and wondered what her sorrow could be. "Hilda," said Lady Hutton, "are you tired?—if not, Lady Bayneham has asked us to dine with them. She is going to the opera, »nd we c*n form one party. What do you say, my dear?

Hilda said something, but the words were so faint and indistinct that Lady Hutton did not hear them. Just then she caught sight of the girl's white face, and uttered a cry of surprise. "What is the matter, Hilda?" she

His love tortured him he could never forge it ha a as be 1 foro him the low, sweet voice never Jhom keen instinct ceased sounding in his ears. But

Barbara Earle, whose keen instinct

ClTude Bayneham wasabrave*man The JoM her there was something wrong, could die, but never yield. Thesbarper interposea the pain, the greater the struggle, the

i/Vipuseu* 'You have been stooping over the (til.

&%>*%.

"'jjt ir:-:-i

i^'\

tZ-vv ~V

ham, feeling that he must break the si- loved Ladv Hutton's ward more deeply than words can tell

"SJ'SSd'WbiSSoSv*. •^•s

mS,.nd h. aw tLr. •bioWio he'™. .ad the curfm feU.iey rro.totam Then he saw too. that her oeautiful the aouse, and Barbara Earle heard

an old friend. Barbara. On the night of the ball, There was atone of reproach in her when she first met Hilda, she guessed words. He could not withstand the all that she now knew.

lovely, innocent face and quivering lips. He dared not ask himself if

Bhe

had missed him, and why. "London is unlike every other

iyonaon IS uniine every uiuw --r _, •, place," continued the young girl in house, Barbara Earle her low, plaintive voice "every one still, by the windowofherroom.! talks alike it is all flattery and com- was a warm night, and shehad opened pliment very few seem really to care the window. The br^zerame info for each other." the park and played with the thick coils

She little dreamed, poor child, how of her hair, cooling the brow a much of her own heart .be ramrod- 5^BJ^n,h5%td'2st^

is different there," said Hilda, moonlight fell upon earnestly. "People are simple ani sublimely beautiful in true. -Here all seems to me artificial resolve. A few stars and unreal it is like one long play that

quiet

once «"yo7 Ito''ii" to&*' Uffe^^one^lSttSkeTeJ

Sb5M-ft*

?oT°e.dyto Sin

Lord Bayneham, who had overheard this conversation, loved the countess better in that moment than he had done before. He could see that she admired Hilda, and she had given him another opportunity of meeting her. "Yet I must go away," he said to himself. "If I linger here I am lost. I mav talk to her this evening, and tomorrow I will look upon her face for the last time for many years."

For that one evening the young earl gave himself up to the luxury of talking to Hilda. He sat by hei while the beautiful music of "Trovatore" was sung, watching the changes that passed over her face. "You love music very much, Miss Hutton," he said, for when the exquisite melody of "Ah che la Morte' sounded, he saw that Hilda's eyes were full of tears. "Yes," she replied "but I am not quite sure that I really like the opera. The first time I heard it I was carried away now it seems to me nnreal. How can one sing in the depths of sorrow? If any one I loved dearly were in prison, I could not stand outside the walls and sing." '•What would yon ao?" asked Lord Bayneham. "I would make my way in, or di« the attempt," sfie replied. "Perhaps my taste is not cultivated. We saw 'Norma' the last time. The music is superb but I could hardly imagine Norma and Adelgisi singing those sweet, sad reproaches. Speech comes naturally in momenta of excitement be they sorrowful or pleasant, speech comes naturally, not song." "Which of all the operas do yon like best?" asked Lord Bayneham, amused at her opinions and ideas.

jaqtiful flowers, said Lord Bayne-' uic ojiuir -"aasey,

Norma,'" she replied. "If I were

die.' In after years those words came back to him, and he knew they bad been spoken truly.

K""

While Claude talked to Hilda, drinking in the loveliness of her. face an(4 -bave tho music of her voice, two persons watched them One was. ho re iter We that evening

»JMU1|I

i».i»ddM.wW,

ife bloom, and Lord Bayneham say,m answer to some

that she looked sad and sorrowful. remark of Hilda s, "You have never been to see as, It will be many years before I come Lord Bayneham," she said, in answer here again. The memory of this night to his look, for he said no moie. "I will suffice for me. half expected you, for you seemed like These words told no

neJF,^°7jP

That evening, long after every one had retired to rest, and a deep, unbroken silence had fallen upon the

night sky all nature was sleep-

inE

the birds

iuK, were hushed, the flow ers were at rest, and the wind seemed keeping watch over them. The quiet, holy calm soothed Barbara. The storm had passed,—one of wild, tempestuous sorrow but the silence of nature brought rest to her. The world and all in it looked little and mean under he light of the solemn stars.

While she stood there Barbara Earle held, as lar as mortals can hold, the destiny of three lives. Had her decision on" this evening been different, her life and the other lives would have been changed. She knew now that Claude Bayneham loved another better than herself. She knew, too, that he was honor himself he would never seek for release from his promise he would keep it at any risk, and so lose his life's happiness. There could be no doubt of this. His face changed when he looked upon Hilda a light she had never seen before came upon it. She had seen him turn pale aud tremble when Hilda touched his hand. Barbara Earle bit her lips, and a rush of hot angry pride filled her heart, when she remembered how he had wooed herself.

Not so would he spe^k of love to the golden-haired girl, whose face was like music. Even at the time she had felt it but she had comforted herself by thinking that Lord Bayneham was of a calm, undemonstrative nature, and that he would love her better when he understood how dearly and deeply she loved him. He had asked her to marry him as coolly and as calmly as he he would have asked her to paint him a picture, or sing a song. His whole soul seemed to tremble upon his lips when he said "Good evening" a few hours ago to Lady Hutton ward. There could be no mistake about it— Lord Bafneham had learned to love at last but it was not she who had taught him the lesson.

Barbara Earle's life lay wrecked before her. She had known no other love, or hope, or happiness. As long back as she could remember, every thought of her good, noble heart had been given to Claude'Bayneham. She had no wish, no plan, no hope, that did not begin and end in him. His future career had been her study for many years. He had great talents, and she longed to see them usefully employed, not wasted in dreamy, elegant idleness. Now from that future, which she had so proudly mapped out she was excluded. Her keen womanly instinct told her that, far from being the

""!r h^ ter'ufe

faint color came again into the fair face, love, while his whole heart was given and the startled, frightened look van- to another. ished from the sweet, tender eyes. "I am glad you are going to dine That morning, when breakiast was with us," she said. "I^ady Hutton has over, Lady Bayneham said she had been telling us how beautifully you some shopping to do, so the carriage sing. If you feel better, will you give was ordered, and Barbara .invited to us the pleasure of hearing your voice join her but Miss Earle said she had "I shall be very glad to do anything another engagement, and the countess vou will like." said Hilda. "You are drove away alone. very kind." Barbara waited in the drawing-room "Have you enjoyed the afternoon?" until her cousin came in. He looked asked Barbara. "Do you like the gar- careworn and tired, as though no sleep dens?" had visited him. ivn 1 ,1 HiiHn ilecisevelv "I "I shall soon take that look from Ins would' Bocmer ^iave'

Brynnfar

woods face," thought Barbara, "though I

than all the grand gardens and parks trample upon my own heart in doing

smiled at g^M 12

the girl's simplicity, had_she not, guess- have tJe libraTv wUh spend half an hour in the library with

ed why she loved Brynmar so well.

CHATTER

me?"

„ir_

I ,'t* "in.

Poor Barbara! she saw a shadow

cr0ss

bis face, but he spoke kindly.

Lady Bayneham's dinner party was They went into the library. There

-J Z.^U»rXVLoTK"ie£», was there, and no one could be dull or listless in his presence. He had the

happy faculty of brightening and amusing every one. He talked gay and agreeable nonsense. The countess of Bayneham was in one of her most gracious moods. Barbara Earle had licr own reasons for trying to make the party a pleasant one and Lady Hutton never failed in being both agreeable and entertaining. No one noticed Hilda's silence and Claude's depression, except Barbara nothing ever escaped her. "Mr. Seaton wants Hilda to sit for her portrait," said Lady Hutton to her hostess. "I am quite willing, but I cannot decide as to her costume." "The more simple the better," said Lady Bayneham, in a low voice. "Miss Hutton needs nothing in the way of ornament" "But," persisted Lady Hutton, I should like her to represent one of my favorite characters. I prefer fancy pictures to simple portraits. I am only puzzled upon which to decide." "Take my advice," said the Countess, "and let Miss Hutton appear as her own simple charming self. She will make a picture then do not spoil it by disguising her as some one else. We ate going to Mr. Seaton's to-morrow to see Lady Diana Foreclerc's portrait, will you join us?"

"I want to talk to you, Claude, that is why I asked you to come here." He waited wonderingly, for he saw her face was full of deep emotion. "Answer me truly," she said, "what do you love best in the world ?—speak truly." '1 always do," said Lord Bayneham, proudly "but you startled me, Bar3ara." "If you were to ask me whom 1 love best in the world," continued Miss Earle, "I should say my betrothed husband, Claude Bayneham. It is because I love you so well that I have asked you to come here."

Lord Bayneham did not know what reply to make. He was prepared to marry his cousin, to be true and kind, but he had nothing to say about love. The vision of a sweet young face, framed in bright golden hair, came between him and the noble woman by his side. "Claude," continued Barbara, laying her hand gently upon his arm, "I will tell you whom you! love best in the world. It is that fair young girl you met in Brynmar woods, Hilda Hutton. Y'ou love her as you never have— never can love another." "I should never have said so," replied Lord Bayneham, sorrowfully.

I know it," said Barbara you would have married me and tried to forget her. I prefer making the sacrifice myself, Claude. It would be useless," she continued, "for me to affect that I do not love you. As long as I can remember, vou have been all the world to me. The strength and depth of my love will best be proved by what I am going to do. Your welfare and happiness are dearer to me than my own therefore, I release you from your promise from all the ties that bind you to me I give you your free dom. You are at full liberty to love and marry whom you will and I do this because I love you and wish to see you happy." "But, Barbara,", remonstrated Lord Bayneham, "I never would have asked for this—I cannot consent."

Even as he spoke Barbara saw a half flutter of joy in his face, and her own grew paler. "I know that,"8he said "but do you think, Claude, I could marry vou. knowing full well that you love an other? It would be impossible," she continued, for he made no reply "if you were to kneel and ask me to be your wife I would not. I do not blame you for loving her she is a thousand times more fair than I but, loving her, could you be so unjust as to oner to marry me "I wish I were dead," cried Lord Bayneham "I wish I had died rather than have brought unhappiness to you, Barbara. I do love you, but in a different way." "I shall be very unhappy for a little time," said Miss Earle, sorrowfully "but then I am a brave woman, and brave women have to live down sorrow. All my happiness will come from seeing you." "You area noble woman, Barbara," said Lord Bayneham. "Y'ou are as noble as you are true."

He held both her hands in his, and,

.norma, suerepueu. wore no ueiu uutu um imuuu u.o, as unhappy as she was, I should like to for the last time, his lips touched her

brow, and Barbara grew deadly pale as he did so

|C UHI Ovi

"Go- now," she said, gently, "and leave me to speak to LadyBayneham." Claude turned away hecould not spoken another word. She watched him with eyes that grew dim with tears. How quietly he, had taken hisdismisssl! He had nothing to say.

With joy and sorrow strangely

sSiil

mingled in his heart, Lord Bayneham did not then know the value of what he on that morning lost. [2*o

be continued in the Sunday -E*f»tes».]

Out Rates in Marriage Fees. Chicago Herald. It was a funny group that stood before Harry Donovan's window yesterday afternoon waiting for marriags license. It waa composed of rik Italians, three men and three women, all apparently of the poorest clase,but yet all evidently having a little money. The women had shawls over their heads, and if any one had in hii s6ttl any romantic notions about the darkeyed daughters of sunny Italy the appearance of these three would have dispelled them. Only one of the party could speak good English, and he waA a young lad, apparently aboat 19 yean. "Are you going to get married?" asked the reporter. "Me, no I am very much married it cost me $24 about a year-ago to get married." "Why, how was that?"_ "Well, I don't know.

C-iN

I came here,

and then they sent me somewhere else, and first one man charged me something and then another somethingelse, and so on till $24 went." "Ah," said Harry, "I remember yoa you were under age and had to go the Probate court to get a guardian." "Oh, yes I suppose it was all right, but that was not the worst the priest, he shook $7 out of me. I was always a good church member,'but I ain't one any more. It was too bad. I- offered him $5, but he made me pay $2 more." "You should have been married by Bishop Murphy he'll do it for $3. It counts all the same." "No, does it? I'll tell him," pointing to the bridegaoom.

After a short consultation, the license having been obtained, the party marched off to a private office, where the ceremony was performed in doublequick time, and the bridegroom handed over $5 to the Bishop, who, however, took a mean advantage of him, for he insisted on giving the change to the bride. The party, however, went away well pleased, and doubtless very soon, were enjoying their maccaroni and red

yiiuo,

congratulating them

selves that they had saved $5 and a good deal of time. Bishop Murphy, it should be explained, is a country justice of the peace employed as a janitor in the county building. In his authority as justice he holds forth at the building, and probably marries more couples than any other one man, priest or justice, in the county.

History of Mad-Stones.,.

New Orleans Times-Democrat. An inquiry into the history of these stones made by one who has devoted much study to the subject of hydrophobia, shows that they are not very numerous. He said: "There are about a dozen of them in the United States. Many thousands of intelligent people are ready to trust them in preference to all other remedies. Many thousands have trusted them, and I shall be happy to refer you to cases in which they have been successfully used. "There are two theories as to their origin. One is that they are chemically formed in the stomach of the deer, after the manner of calculi in the bladder and kidneys. •Another, and I think more plausible, and supported by their history and appearance, is that they are mineral products. Both kinds may exist, however. 'There is a tradition among the owners of these gems, more valuable than the Koh-i-nor, that they are found in Italy on the shores of the Mediterranean. Some have come from Germany, others from South America. In India similar stones are kept in the temples of the priests for the benefit of persons bitten- by venomous serpents and are called by them snakestones. "Over 200 years ago they were spoken of by the French medical authorities. Piideaux, an old French medical authority, says of their discovery that the best and most reliable information is that the mad-stone was discovered many years ago in Switzerland by some young men herding stock. One of them was bitten on tne hand by a poisonous reptile. A porous stone, which they were throwing for amusement, was laid on the swollen and painful spot. To their amazement, it afforded immediate relief. This led to the discovery of a number of similar stones, which have been scattered all over the world. This adds one more to the accidental discoveries which bave benefitted the world."

Official Hats.

New York World. -r This administration may not make much impression in a general way, but it will leave a record in history in one way at least. This is the peculiar style of hats worn of such original shape as if some principle were involved in this eccentricity. The president, in the first place, has a hat made on a block of his own fashioning. The crown is about four inches higher than the prevailing styles in silk hats, while the brim is flat and very wide. He has a white cassimere felt made on this block for summer wear and a silk one for winter wear. The president is so tall that his hat elongates him in a most distressing way. He loves an old hat. He is still wearing his old summer hat, although its ghos'.ly whiteness these cold fall days gives one a chill. He and Fred Douglass are the last men in Washington who are base enough to still wear a white hat. Even Brewster has given up the piratical yellow fur hat and its mourning band with which he entertained the people at the eastern watering places this summer. Folger has worn a little straw hat all summer, and occasionally wears it yet, varying it with an old soft black hat ten years old, or a hard Derby hat of the style of the last century. Frelinghuysen, great in his deportment, wears a black silk the year through. He keeps up to within three years of the style. Lincoln wears new and fashionable hats. Chandler wears hats that no respectable junk dealer wonld buy. Gresham wears a silk hat with the nap carefully brushed granger fashion—all the wrong way—while Teller smashes a soft, seedy black hat down over his sharp hawk's face.

Webster's Grandchildren. Washington Critic. The statement is so often made that "the only two grandchildren of Daniel Webster now living are Mrs. James Geddes Day and Mrs. Samuel Appleton," that it has passed into an ac cepted tradition. The truth of the matter, however, is that there are three: Mrs. Bonaparte, Mrs. Armistead and Mr. Samuel Appleton, Mrs. Day having died a few years ago at Marshfield, Mass. Of Daniel Webster's two sons both were killed in battle, the eldest during the Mexican war, the second at the first Bnll Ron. Edward, the eldest,- was unmarried, and of Fletcher's children two sonB died childless, two daughters in childhood, and, as above stated, Mrs. D* in the early half of "middle-age." I was through the daughter, Grace Webster, that the line continued. Her eldest son, Daniel, was burned to death, but Samuel married Miss Abertrombie and now lives in Massachusetts Julia married Mr. Armistead, of New York, and Carrie married first Mr. Newbold Edgar, of New York, find finally Colonel Bonaparte.

Ignacio-Garcia Veyan, a *ch resi dent otTlacolepec, Mexico, was seised by a party of bandits on October 3d. and carried off. They demand $10,000 for his ransom,

THE TBRRE ttA^Ti EXFRfflBIOTNDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 11, 1888.

THOfHUUTDS FOB ONE BOOK.

Tha ShakMpMurs a "WarM" Reporter Vklsa Square—JMckaaa aad "lflarl"-Jafou aad Aaonmi

FrMBfcVwMlttei parohaaed by Soctetr

S«w TowkWarld. "U~'f9U ve anything of a bibliophile»" aaid Brentano to a World report«4 I have something back here that wfll make your heart leap and your eyes pep out of yonr head. It is an adftkmrof Shakespeare that cart $18,010, Come look at it"

The reporter followed behind the large daak at the rear of the store, and there, dene np in manila paper was a portion of flw toeasure—one of thirtysi & folio volumes of the English dramatist's work. When the wrapping was removed it appeared to be a very ordinary book of somewhat uncommon sue, bound in morocco, and notwithstanding its red finish presents a very unpretentious appearance. The volume was "A Midsummer Night's Drefcm," Sttd while the text filledf but about 100 toages, the book had the thickness and weight of a large family Bible. On the title-page was the following inscrvtion:

The I

feSfc* DRAMATIC WORKS of .':•. BHAXSPEARE,

Revised by

OaoBGE STKVZKS.

Lon

lurit 'Frlnted by W. Bnlmer 4 Co. Sbakspeare Printing Office, For John and Josiab Boydell, George &

W. Nicoll.

The Ty pet ot P.Martin. MDCCCII.

"It is, as vou see," said Mr. Brentano, "an opginal Boydell. The work Ini issued in parts, and as it was the first gotten up was in eight volumB and bad a few gmall plate engravings to each play. About thirteen years ago some lovers of Shakespeare who had plenty of mjbney got together and determined, if possible, to enlarge and add to the literary art and value of the work. They, bought up all the old engravings, 'etchings, plates, &c., they could find that baa any bearing upon Shakespeare-or his creations. In many cases they paid extraordinary prices for these treasurers and often got the Only extant copy of some illustration. These plates cost them all way from fl to $400 and $500 each. See there is an engraving showing a scehe in Athens—a full-page picture by one of the cleverest manipulators of the burin in the last century. The plata. is now destroyed, and I doubt whether you could get another copy of the engraving. Every thing in any way relating to the subject nas been utilized. The collectors kept up their researches, until at last the work stopped for want of funds, when an American gentleman, now a resident of New York and the owner of these volumes, came forward and completed it. Over $18,000 were spent in obtainingthe illustrations alone. There are 4,569 plates altogether, as many as 125 being giveh to a single play. Just look at it for yourself."

A careful investigation of the single volume the, Wiorld reporter had in his hand was sufficient to convince him of its value. The engravings are rare and wonderful specimens of the handiwork of old-time artists. There are views, portraits, costttmea and original drawings in pencil, sepia and water colors, some of the contributions being by artists of the London Sketching club, and such names, as Chalon, Tump and Harding apfteuitig on not a few of tfte plates. Ofle-third of the engravings

are

in brilliant proof condition,

and the preservation of the folding plates is insujed by mounting them on linen.

A most remarkable feature of the work is the terge number of inlaid plates. Small engravings are placed upon page-sixed sheets and combined with them so perfectly by a process of pasting or something of the Kind that the human eye cannot detect the point of junction, iand even with the microscope it'is difficult to discern it This inlaying was. done by George Trent, and it ia a'lfplendid specimen of his

Another interesting literary treasure is an edition of Dickens sold at auction five years ago in London for $2,500 and valued at $3,000. It is an early octave edition of the English novelist's works extended and elaborated by the addition of plates and engravings relating to the stories or to places or people with whom Dickens was acquainted in life. The letter-press and engravings, when necessary, are inlaid on heayy folio sheets. There are eight volumes containing the complete works, and each book in size resembles the Shakespeare volumes, but are shabbier in appearance and cheaper in their binding. The illustrations are originals by Darley, Cruikshank and Dickens himself, while Hoguett contributes several plates. His burial of David Wilkie at sea is a wonderful picture and the portraits of Tom Moore, Byron and the other known characters of that literary age are marvellous works of art. Theii are altogether about 2,000 plates in the eight volumes.

Still another rarity in the book line is "Nimrod's" book on racing, issued in London about twenty-five years ago. "Nimrod" was the nom de plume of a famous writer of turf matters. His work is in four volumes and is valued at $2,000. There are 1,500 illustrations, consisting of full-page plates in colors, etchings, engravings and woodcuts, with the original letter press. As in the case of the Dickens, the octavo pages are inlaid on folio sheets. The work is a complete record of the English turf from the earliest times up to 1855, and pictures of the most famous racers and jockeys accompany the text.

Sensible Advice to Young Married People Who Seek Separations. Phlladelph la Times. "I will absolutely have no further communication with my husband," said Mrs. Annie Rennie in the Desertion court yesterday. "He has illtreated me he has used profane language to me he threw egg-shells, in my face and twice he struck me." "But if he should give you assurance that these things shall not be repeated that he will treat you kindly, leaving it to me to nse strong measures if he should fail to keep his promise, what then?" asked Judge Allison. "Would you not try him again and go live with

"No I shalf nof see him^ftin." "That is a wrong disposition," answered the court. "Marriage is coming to be too lightly regarded in this city. There are causes that justify a wife in separating from a husband and a husband in leaving his wife but they are not trifles. Every cause is not such a cause. Husbands and wives- must learn to bear and forbear. Annoyances that may make life perhaps less comfortable than it might be will not always justify one in violating the marital vow and renting asunder the marital state. It seems to me that the natural feelings of sympathy for a woman in this court is working harm. If a woman feel that if her husband offended her die may leave him with the certainty of getting an order of support against him out of this court, •lie is encouiaged to take up her pack and abandon him. In the last ten years this weekly desertion business, as it iacalled, hasinceaaed four-fold. There must be something wrong somewhere."

In the case in hand Andrew Rennie, the husband, aseiibed all his troubles to his mother-in-law, and aaid that he wished to have his wife back and had rooms awaiting her- return. The mother-in-law denied that she was at all to blame and declared that her son-in-law's misfortunes were all upon his own head. Mrs. Kennie said that she would make a living for herself and ashed only that her husband might be decreed to contribute to the support of his two little children. The jhdge declined to maka an order for the time, bat suggested that the support ought to be ghmi, "and as an iaeentive to a reconciliation," he added, addreasing the husband, "as an tridMM of yow food will, yta shfttild

contribute to the maintenance of your wife also. Then when you prove to her that you really mean to do well, I hope that you will come together

'No," said the wife, inlow, decided tones "no, I trusted him before. I will not try him again."

A BABY OF BOSBS. "v

Violet Kyaa aad Sweet Carnation Upa— A Cradle of BOMS aad Ivy. "I have made up two very pretty floral pieces," the florist continued, 'that are quite new in construction,

The Globe-Democrat says that a celebrity among the Chinese of San Francisco is their great doctor, Li Po Tai. He has been in this country nearly thirty years, and has a larger income from his profession than any white practitioner in the city. His patients all comei to his office when able, and Li Po Tai sits up habited in gorgeous silks and biocades in a little den of an office overlooking the plaza, and feels pnlses all day long. The patients are mostly white people, who come to him after a varied round of the own physicians, or at the instigation of some of his resurrected and enthusiastic patients? Li Po Tai rests the patient's elbow on a blue silk cushion and proceeds to feel their right pulse with his three-hooked and longclawed fingers. He feels the right pulse to ascfertain the condition of the ^rain, stomach and kidneys, and then grasps the left wrist to find out about the heart, liver and lungs. Although he knows practically nothing of anatomy as our physicians know it, he makes a wonderful diagnosis of a case. He charges $10 a week tor his sendees, including his medicines, and patients either come to his office and drink the tissues, or ttake the packages of mysterious stnff home and make their own hot drinks.

LiPo Tai has many notions that puzzle and interest bis patients. He firet treats them to a severe course of antidotes for quinine poison, if they confess to ever having taken that deadly drug. He next commands them not to eat shell fish or uncooked fruit, to let alone poultry, fried meats, eggs, watery vegetables, all liquors and everything sour. For these thirty years Li Po Tai has made his patients drink hot water, and dyspepsia, cancer, and tumors are his specialties. His income from bis profession is computed at more than $6,000 a month

The Countess and Her Cats. London Telegraph. Yesterday, at the Kensington Vestry hall, before the Hon. E. C. Curzon, 8ir Henry Gordon and others, justices of the peace, the countesB de la Torre, residing at 38 Pembroke Square, was summoned for permitting a number of cats to remain on her premises, so as to cause a nuisance injurious to health. Mr. Harding, clerk of the Kensington vestry, attended to support the summons, and said the offense was one of many gears' standing. "Die Countess: I am willing to do anything. Mr. Harding: Her ladyship has made that promise on

than one occa

sion, and I regret that I can not place any reliance in it. Mr. Bird (a magistrate): How many cats are there The Countess: I have five cats, and also feed some stray ones. Mr. Harding explained that the Countess was summoned not long since at the Hammersmith Police court, when a prohibitory order was granted for the keeping of cats at Pembroke square, where she then resided. She had since removed to 38. The« Countess: This prosecution is a cruel thing it is through a neighbor. I have two dogs. Mr. Abbott, the sanitary inspector, Baid that when the Countess was summoned on the last occasion she had eighteen cats and nine dogs. Mr. Harding: They were shut up in a room, and one could naturally imagine the filthy smell. Mr. Bird: Do you confine the animals in the room The Countess: Certainly not. There being no witnesses to prove the offense, the bench dismissed the summons.

She Won a Plumber.

"Did you enjoy the past summer?" said one young lady to another, on a horse car, one morning last week, in the hearing of the Yonkers Statesman. "Yes, indeed I just had a charming time," replied the one addressed. "And did you have any flirting where you were?" "Plenty of it and such delicious flirting, too."' "You made'a conquest, I pre&time?" "Oh, yes see my ring?" "Is be a duke, lord, or count?" "Better still. He is an American plumber?" "An American plumber! It can't be!" "Oh, yes but it is. And papa says we are going to have a terribly hard winter."

And the engaged party, exhibiting a diamond ring, as big as a plumber's bill, left the oar, highly elated at the surprise and jealousy of her less fortunate sister. *3™"

The Wrong Parent-

Detroit Free Press. "You know Blank, don't you?" queried a citizen as he entered a Griswold street office yesterday. "Yes." 3 "Have you any influence with him? "Well, I may have." "Then you are the man to go to him. He has a son about sixteen years old!" "Yes."— "That bdy is on the road to ruin because his father is too good-natured and too much wrapped up in businessseems to me it is your duty to go to that man and tell him in a friendly way that he must exercise more governmentor his boy will be lost." "I don't think I'm the man," replied the other as he chewed the blotting pad and gazed out of the window. "But why?' "Well, I've got a boy about the same age, and I'm just going up to the police court to pay $20 for him smashing up saloon furniture! Try the next.'

A remarkably beautiful rabbit was killed near Eufala, La., the other day. It was of a solid light buff or doy« color on the back, with snow whit^ ,hair underneath and. on the legs, aq«l ptalHXriored eye*'

BUTLER IN A SHIPWRECK.

A Chicago Man's BwllwMoai *f a Tlekllsh BmOtttp* Battaai. Chicago Inter Oceaa.

An old salt, now residing in Chicago, who, during the stormy period of 1862, was stationed at Hilton Head, at that time the only port along the Atlantic coast between Gape Hatteras and New Orleans in the occupancy of the Federals, makes the following narration of how General Butler escaped a watery grave on his memorable passage to New Orleans to take command of the department of which that city constituted the headquarters:

think. They were both sent to a baby's christening, but by different parties. One was two feet long, and represented a miniature baby made of creamy Marepink roses, with a border of ivy leaves and jasmine blossoms. The baNjllfteld a sceptre of heart's-ease In his hand and had eyes of violets and lips of carnation leaves. His ptlms and the soles of his little bare feet were of the palest pink rose leaves. It was a pretty thing indeed, and the family were delighted with it." "What waff the "other one?" asked the New York Journal reporter. "Well, I thought it was prettier than the first, but that's all a matter of taBte. The design wasa little boy in a canoe, gathering roses with one hand and violets with the other, while ahead of him were thistles, with just a tiny channel through them. The river was represented by an oblong bed of silver-star flowers, the canoe waB made of golden asters, and the little boy of pink and white roses. The thistles were natural ones, and a hard time I had to get them. "I have very odd decorations on hand for a reception next week. The lady who gives it is very esthetic, you know, and the drawing-rooms and halls are to be decorated with nothing but cat-tails and sedges. I am going to make a dado of them in the Dack parlor and place them on the brackets and mantels. Her rooms are furnished in sage green and bronze, so the effect from the esthetic point of view will be very fine." A Prosperous Chinese Physician.

It was in the spring of 1862 that General B. F. Butler, now the governor of Massachusetts, proceeding with his fleet along the Atlantic, conceived the idea, contrary to nautical experience and advice, while off Cape Hatteras, at midnight, of having the Bhips run nearer in shore. The remonstrances of the captain of the Missis* sippi (Butler's own ship) against so hazardous and so unprecedented a venture proved unavailing, and the refusal of the captain finally to obey the general's order culminated in the captain'B incarceration, with shackle accompaniments. In such cases there are usually others lees scrupulous of danger and more inclined to obey, so that the irate general was speedily accommodated with what but for timely succor, might bave had very serious consequences. As it was, however, the Mississippi was run aground and threatened with instant dismemberment, having sprung a Irak and sustained a considerable fracture in one of her sides, from a violent contact with hidden rocks. The general, in no wise daunted by this mishap, fumed and fretted in consonance with the angry waves, and ordered signal lights betokening his danger to be displayed. This baa the effect of bringing the Vixen, with a picked crew, among which was the narrator of the facts nere given, from Hilton Head, the only point from which succor could bave been obtained. The rescuers arrived in time to prevent the ship from foundering. While the "old salt" was at the pumps, and seemingly inattentive to his work, the general accosted him and wished to know why he was so dilatory. The reply was, "I am waiting for some grease." "Oh," said the general, "it's grease you want, you scoundrel!"

This is only cited to show that the distinguished general was not then as now possessed of the sweet temper which has characterized his administration of affairs as governor of Massachusetts and in other relations. By dint of unremitting labor for several hours the general's ship was towed safely into harbor at Hilton Head, and its precious freight reserved for greater honors. While the cargo, composed of provisions for the general's table, and several hundred barrels of whisky, at which the general's weather eye was often and lovingly directed, was being unloaded, a high carnival was being held by the sailors and soldiers. As the barrels of liquor were hoisted out of the injured ship they were greedily seized by the thirsty marines, who stove in their heads and proceed to gorge themselves with the contents. The scene that ensued was one that might have made even old Bacchus green with envy, and might have caused amuch greater shrinkage in the general's supplies but for hiB interposition and orders consigning the guilty to the hold and chains, where they had ample time to sober up.

The, general's watchful care .over his stores was never more perfectly exhibited than on this occasion, not alone in the case of the whisky, but as well in the detection of an Irishman, who, true to his natural inclination, was mating off with a boat-load of potatoes. This rascally culprit was also treated to imprisonment and the shackles. Much time was consumed in repairing the Mississippi, which did not, nowever, repair the general's temper, which found vent at frequent intervals during the passage to New Orleans, which he reached without further serious accident or detention, and where he comported himself with a dignity and efficiency the world has since acknowledged and appreciated. The narrator of this little episode wishes to be excused from giving his name, not because he has indulged in fancy, but rather, being then a much unger man, and not surrounded as now by the temperate inducements of Chicago, he fell under Butler's displeasure, and was one of the thirsty on the occasion of the rescue.

It might here be allowed, with some show of propriety, that the general might have given a little more scope to his gratitude and forgiven our worthy "old salt," who helped to save the ship in which he was so near being entombed. It may be reserved for our possible future president to reward this hero with a small slice of pie from tlie ample cuiBine of the White House. Who can say?

THE FEMALE FORM DIVINE.

The Figure of the Tonng Girl and How It Aunmei a Mature Look. Given a small, straight, flat figure, remarkB Clara Bell, with a face delicate in its features, and the problem of making a girl look like 15 until she is altogether past ber teens is not exceedingly difficult. It can be very simply forked by refusing to let her petticoats grow to a mature length, eschewing all devices of bodice that produce artificial undulation, and enjoining an in nocent simplicity of carriage and manner. That was what had been done with the bride? whom?- I have mentioned, latere was in her family tbe usual incentive for thus retarding her apparent growth from childhood to womanhood. Two older sisters wished to matrimonially (dace themselves before their ages were emphasized by the youngest daughter becoming an adult. Why, I remember that one evening at a reception the dear girl came down to the parlor in a lovely costume of white tulle, as simple and infantile as a christening robe, and with a hem no lower than the tops of her high boo tea but she bad presumed to give a slight roundness to her corsage. That was an amendment to the family resolution which was instantly -voted down, though she pleaded hard to carry it "I'm a woman, and I want to look like one," shepleaded. "You may be a woman, but you've got to look* like a child as long as nature will let you," was the maternal mandate.

So she had to go back to her room and flatten the bosom in which indignation was swelling. "I'll develop all of a sudden, the first thing they know—see if I don't," she Baid to me on that occasion.

And she did it on her wedding day, for certain. Tbe dignified little creature who dragged a train up the center aisle of a fashionable church was no longer childish. Her babyish braids of hair had become an elaborate coiffur the ankles were out of sight, and, instead of their stockinged display, there was a charming disclosure of bare arms that were far more plump and tapering than anybody had expected, and as fair as eighteen years' seclusion could make them her bodice, for the first time, was shapely—by exactly what means it is none of the public's business. Improved? I should say so. If the bridegroom had fallen in love with her former aspect he had every reason for augmenting his passion as he heheld her in her bridal robes.

Telegraphing Chinese.

St. James Oasette. Owing to the peculiarly of the Chinese characters, earh «f which represents a word, not a letter, as of our western tongue, the Danish Telegraph company (the Great Northern) work

ing the new Chinese line, have (Engineering says) adopted the following device: There are from five to six thousand characters or words in ordinary Chinese language, and the company have provided a wooden block or type for each of these. On one end of this block the character is cut or staunped out, and on the other end is a number representing the character. The clerk receives a message in numbers and takes the block of each number transmitted and stamps with the opposite end the proper Chinese character on the mes-sage-form. Thus a Chinese message sent in figures is translated into Chinese characters again and forwarded to its destination. The sending clerk, of course, requires to know the numerical equivalent of the characters or have them found for him.

TO KEEP AUTUMN BRIGHT.

On any clear Saturday bevies of young girls may be seen in Central park gathering leaves. The maple leaves and sumac are greatly sought for. They are carried home and pressed. They often foil to keep their color. A florist said yesterday that the best way to preserve leaves was to press them between blotting paper or some other soft paper. "After several days," he said, "take them out and stamp the paper, lest the moisture cause the leaf to rot Keep changing the paper at intervals until the leaves are thoroughly dry. Then they will look dull. The colors will verge toward the brown, and the collector who has not had experience may imagine that the color is fading. This is not so. The color has to be trought out by oil, varnish or wax. I prefer oil. The next best thing is to Garnish the leaves with a thin white Varnish. I do not approve of waxing, lor it makes the leaves too brittle. The leaves are robbed over with wax aud then ironed with a warm flat/iron. Formerly wreaths and ornaments were made out of pressed leaves now they are used only for pictures and to decorate walls. To my mind the handsomest leaves are the maple. They are of almost every tint We often find the palest canary, yellow, orange, and red on the same leaf. They are also easy to press.

At the florist's at the southeast corner of Broadway and Twenty-third Street the reporter saw a large box filled with mingled oak and chestnut 1&&VGS* "These are the only kind of leaves which we press this year," the young lady in charge said. "We press the leaves and then varnish them." 'What kind of varnish do you use?"

I really don't know," she replied "we buy it at a paint store a few blocks away." "Is there much sale for dried leaves "Yes, indeed. We sell a great many. After they are prepared we charge twenty-five cento a bunch. There are about a dozen in a bunch.''

The Pacinating Widow. A writer in Harper's observes that the feminine mind is often not a little puzzled to understand why the facinations of a widow are so much more potent than those of a single woman, why it is that in every gathering the widow Will carry off the partners from under the very nose of the spinster who is in the very flower—wall flower of her youth. Does she speak with the tongues of men and angels more than the rest of us? Is she better bred? Does she flatter with more skill or dress with more effect? Is she prettier, they ask, perhaps. Is it the jointure left by her marquis of Carabas, or because she has been endorsed by a lord of creation? Oris it the shadow of an early grief which attracts, or the exhibition of a most beautiful resignation Io the yonng girl's estimation the suttee was the right kind of a •fcidow. Aught not the only flame left for her be that of the funeral pyre? and is there not something ungenerous, she asks, in a world where husbands are scarce, for a woman to appropriate more than one. Is it not a sort ot denial of immortality But the young girl is told that these are the fine-spun feelings of a Sentimentalist, that the widow does right to live in the world, and not, like Old Mortality, among graves. Very possibly she" may not wish to marry again, but she may not have buried all her little vanities, her love of admiration, her interest in human kind, especially mankind, in the grave with her husband. Is it her fault if the men prefer her society Perhaps it is her very indifference, having pleased one man, whether others are pleased or not, that is irresistible, or the confidence which that fact gives. Perhaps it is because she never preaches to them over somebody else's shoulder because tobacco smeke does not affect her because she is not afraid to show her interest because, knowing their weakness, she yet likes their society because her unprotected position and her becoming weeds appeal to the manly heart or because sue has learned tact in the scrimmage with her husband's relations. Perhaps, through having loved and lost, she has touched a wider gamut of emotions, and her experience has made her more interesting than tbe callow girl. Doubtless society need? widows just as much as it does single women and married people to give a Bpice and variety to life, and it would be a thousand pities if the Hindoo custom were to come into vogue in mu day, and deprive some of us of a grievance. Ex-Senator Tabor's Pistol Goes OtT. Denver (Col.) Tribune.

After the performance at the Opera house, last night, ex-Senator Tabor and wife left the building arm in arm. When opposite the car stables, on Curtis street, the ex-senator concluded to put on bis overcoat In the inside pocket of his coat the ex-senator had a large double-action revolver, and his wife, in order to allow him to UBe his ht hand if attacked, moved to the

w.iier

THE

IJEAVES

Hint* From a Florist—Oak and Chestnot tnra In Gnat Demand ThU Tear.

The New York Sun says that autumn leaves are very fashionable this year as parlor decorations. All the large florists are getting them in in large quanItities, and, after they are prepared, sell them at 25 cents a dozen. The leaves in greatest demand are oak leaves, which, dried and varnished, are placed about picture frames and in bunches on the walls. Leaves from the chestnut tree, which are often mixed in among the oak leaves, which are of a reddish brown.

side and took the ex-Benator't-

left arm. In so doing she pushed the pistol out of his pocket and it fell on. the pavement, and one chamber was discharged with a loud report Fortunately the bullet sped aimlessly and no serious damage was done. The affair created a great deal of excitement and a large crowd gathered on the spot Some one started the rumoi that the ex-senator had been shot, and policemen and reporters were busy until the facts became known. Mrs. Tabor nearly fainted, and at first thought she had been hit A hole ir the bottom of her dress where the ball passed through proved that she had a narrow escape.

MuleB are used instead of horses iu mines and tunnels in the West. Adolph- Sntro describes those in famous tunnel as the miners' pets, and are cared for with as much tenderness as children. The animals become so accustomed to darkness that they ran not see on emerging into sunlight, and, to obviate this difficulty, the men in the Sutro tunnel are in the habit of covering the right eye of the mule while in darkness and the left eye when in the light, so that the animal Will always have the full use of at least one optic. _•

.je

•AGK. fk

Somu County, New Famoni Llqonr There. The Newton (N. J.) correspondent of the Philadelphia Press sa^fc: J"8* now the manufacture of apple-jack is in full blaBt all through this part of New Jersey. Sussex county produces more apple whisky to the square inil® than any one county in the United States. Although this is what is"call an off year, the amount of beverage produced in will not fall short of twen sand gallons. It is a singul those years which are div: figure 2 are the best years', apple whisky. Last year b^^^Jood season the crop of Sussex county jsrge I quite eighty-five thousand gallons. In 1880 it was 103,000 gal&ns. The liquor originated in Montague, Sussex county, where the first barrel of apple-jack was manufactured by 'Squire Saunder Ennis.

The process of distilling the liquor is extremely primitive at various convenient points all through the county generally in the neighborhood of tne largest orchards are erected large sheds containing the mill and the press. -These buildings are usually located on aside hill. The apples are ground up fine between two huge wooden wheels -x which are turned around in a big trough by two horses fastened to along wooden pole. The pomace or pulp of the apples is shoveled into a trough and taken to the press, where it is placed between layers of clean straw and put under a heavy pressure.

The juice thus extracted runs. through a wooden pipe into huge vats, where it is left undisturbed until it reaches a stage of fermentation which is called ripening. It requires great skill and experience to judge when the cider is ripe, and anv delay in removing the alcohol by distillation after it is ripe would be fatal to the yield of apple-jack, and the distiller would have nothing but a lot of vinegar after all his labor.

The still is an immense copper boiler, perfectly air-tight, surmounted by a coil of pipe that passes through a tank of cola water. A hot fire is constantly kept under the kettle an even temperature is necessary in order to get a fine liquor. The cider runs through a siphon into a kettle, where the heat turns it into a vapor, which, passing through the cool coil of pipe, again condenses it, and it emergespure apple-jack.

The whisky is so strong, however, when first made, that it defies even the iron-clad stomach of a Sussex county Cj •'/. granger. It is pure white, but mellow,

and with age taking on after a few years a pale yellow hue. Of course dealers and distillers have all kinds of tricks for palming off new apple-jack for a 2s superior old whisky. Burned peachpits added to liquor fresh from the still, will give it the appearance of a twenty-year-old brand, brown sugar skillfully burned, has the same effect."

The cost of the whisky to the distiller is small, and the prices at the still is $2 a gallon, which includes the tax of 90 cep.ts a gallon. Tho older the liquor is the more valuable it is. There are many barrels of apple-jack stored away in these Jersey cellars that is worth from $10 to $30 a gallon. The apples being from 15 to 40 cents a bushel, according to the season and size of the crop, and %ach bushel will make a gallon of the whisky.

The revenue of the JTnited States^" from apple whisky is given at about 150,000 per annum, and two-thirds of i' it comes from Sussex county^

A RATTLESNAKE CATC^EBf

The Way a Sullivan County Farmer Captures the Reptiles (or. Menageries. New York Sun.

PORT JERVIS, N.

Y., October 28.

John C. Geer, of Long Eddy, a veteran rattlesnake catcher, lias just shipped four rattlers, averaging over four feet in length, to a museum in Bochester. Mr. Geer does a lively business in rattlesnakes. He catches them for traveling shows and menageries and sells them at a good round price. His method of capture is very simple. With his feet encased in a pair of heavy cowhide boots, through which the fangs of the snakes cannot penetrate, he goes out into the woods, only a short distance from his farm-house. Armed with a heavy cane, he walks along until he sees or hears a rattler. If it is coiled up a blow with the cane will straighten it out, and while it is uncoiled it can not strike. Holding it firmly by tbe back of the head with the cane, he slips a small hood of thick woolen cloth over its head and ties it fast The snake can then wriggle and strike as much as it pleases it is harmless. After two or three are captured they are put into a bag and carried home. There they are put into a box specially prepared for their reception, having a front of thick plate glass. At first they are furious and writhe and plunge about, striking at tbe sides of the box in a most extraordinary manner, but they finally quiet down and take kindly to their new quarters. They are fed three times a day regularly. Their food consists of frogs, mice, gophers, and sometimes small birds. Mr. Geer says August is the most dangerous of all months for capturing the snakes, because they are shedding their skins and can not see, and so do not give the customary three alarm rattles. "Snakes is curious," said Mr. Geer. "Snakes is curious, and no mistake. These varmints never think of biting at any other time of the year without calling out a warning, 'cept in August, and then they are fearfully touchy. I suppose it is because, as they can't see, they are afraid of bein' hurt all the time. More people get bit by rattle snakes in August than all the rest of the year put together. You see, the varmints bein' so blind, don't know where they crawl to, and often they curl themselves up right alongside of a road, and sometimes in the middle of it. They are very sensitive, and the minute they hear any one near them they try to bite. That'B why so many of these city folks, who come up in the Sullivan connty mountains for rest, as they call it, get poisoned, and once in awhile die. Most of 'em dies from fright, though, 'cause with proper care they can always be cured. After dark is tne meanest time with rattlers in August. You see, generally the rattler goes to sleep at sundown, or if he is awake he is afraid and keeps quiet. But in August, his tender hide and his eyes pain him so he can't sleep well, and he is just as apt as not to stretch himself right out on one of the foot-paths. If he does you can just bet that the man or woman who comes in his way gets bit."

Demolition of a Famous Hotel in Paris. London Daily News. October 15.

The rebuilding of the Sorbonne, in Paris, has necessitated the demolition of the famous hotel in the Rue des Cordier, formerly known as the Hotel St. Quentin, but more recently as the Hotel Jean Jacques Rousseau. It was here that Leibnitz lodged when in Paris, and he was followed by the professors of philosophy at the horbonne, Mably, and Condillac.

Attracted by the celebrity which this hostlery had acquired, Jean Jacques Rousseau went to stay there, and in the seventh book of his confessions, he speakB of himself as going "to lodge in the Hotel St. Quentin, near the Sorbonne, in an uninviting street, an uninviting hotel, and an uninviting room." He does not appear, however, to have been badly cared for, as he returned to the Hotel St. Quentin on several occasions, and wrote one or two of his books there. After his death the proprietor changed the name of tbe hotel to "Jean Jacques Rousseau," which it has retained ever since. It has of late years been frequented by students, and fetched only £1,202 when put up at auction.

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