Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 January 1884 — Page 3

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ON THE DOWNWARD PATH.

Two that wrecked each other's hop Partllng coldly In their prime, pon their downward slope, ?ht by tears and calmed by

tiOlfe,

Under auturn's perfect trees, hi

Dropping bright remembrances.

There they spread their stories out, Pace to face und hand to hand, Looking back with wistful doubt

Into the forgotten land, Where the wheels of life went fast Hardly seen till they were past.,

Lookiug where the dawn had been, Till each eray and pallid line r«r Shivers with a sun unseen,

Which must never rise and shine. And the Moment, lost and vain. Comes before their souls again.

Saying, softly, "Yes, I think You were there—yon came at ten."., "in your hair was something pink—''

How bate the tint since then!" "Hate a harmless ribbon!" "Nay, I have pardoned it to-day." ...

"X remember what you said,'1 'But you laughed, and I despaired." Did 1 laugh? I was afraid

You might think or know I cared." "Be content, your pride shall be Bcathiess as your heart for me." "Something in your voice assures

You have angry feelings yet," "Something tells me then in yours That would not oiuite—forget

Just one foolish moment lit ope—that laugh extinguished it."

.re that flame was very weak!" Twas your silence let it die," .f

a man's hope will not speak, Can a woman's heart reply?" "Had I spoken?" "Do I know?

It was very long ago."

Pace to face and hand to hand, Looking at those eastern skies, Is the light along the land

Only borrowed from their eyes? Can the song of birds be drawn From a memory of dawn?

Lo, the hill, the sea, the plain, Flushing with familiar rose! Look away, and look again,

But the-color stay* and grows! Wherefore stand amazed and dumb? Knew you not tb« morn must come?

HILDA.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY, AUTHOR OF "DOBA THOBNE."

CHAJWEB XXTH.

Lady Bayneham bad been thinking mental exercise she did not too often Indulge in. This world for her was but a path of roses, in which she bad found few thorns, and she bad nothing much that required thought but this night, when a young heart near her was breaking with sorrow, Lady Baynebam could not sleep, for she was thinking.

She knew the world well its strange ways were old legends to her. She bad heard many stories where a bandsome, accomplished man of the world prided himself upon winning the liking of a beautiful young wife. The whole artillery of flirtation was a wellknown business to Lady Bayneham. Her son's wife was very lovely, and no fairer face had ever shone in those old balls she was also very young and child-like often enough had the countess Hmiled at her naive remarks, for the world was a sealed book to her. She was as innocent, guileless, and unsuspicious as a child. Mr. Fulton wa8 a man of the world handsome and fascinating old, it is true, but with a charm and grace of manner more winning even than the freshness of youth. She suspected nothing serious. He dared not attempt to make love to her son's wife under her son's roof but, in all probability, he bad amused himself by trying to get up a sentimental friendship with her. How else account for those notes? And she was so young and so inexperienced, it was impossible to guess what she would do. If a note had been clandestinely slipped into Lady Bayneham's hand, she would calmly and quietly have torn it to pieces before the writer's face, without the trouble of words. She had seen bow Hilda blushed and trembled when she received the note and the brilliant, experienced woman of the world felt something like pity for the young novice. "I have no doubt," said Lady Baynebam to herself, "that she is dreadfully puzzled what to do over the matter. Poor child!—she is so simple, and so sweet. I think I must tell Claude,—he will know iu'st what to do and if I speak to her, she may consider it interference."

Thr countess believed she was performing a kindly, motherly action in seeking her son, and telling him what she had seen accordingly she was the first in the breakfast-room. Mr. Ful ton, in accordance with his arrangements on the previous evening, left while the morning was still dawning. Barbara Earle had taken breakfast, and gone out into the grounds. Lady Hilda was in her room, hence the countesB had a clear field and when her BOH entered, she went into action at once. With her second cup of tea she commenced a preamble. "I think you know me to well, Claude, ever to suspect that I could be capable of any impertinence or interference is it not true

The Earl assured bis mother that she possessed all the cardinal virtues and no faults. "I am speaking seriously, my son, oontinued the lady. "I have a sincere liking and affection for your beautiful

m8?

I-ord Bayneham, quietly but 'firmly, aee those notes, or know None shall

A,

uAV were about. None shall

"thir in/oH or Kt impertinently to

dent and S®nflw

wt _.. .: ^jfss

after all, 'there was. nothing on the paper but the nVune of a book or song?" "Tell me how they were given," be said, "and I can juage for myself."

Lady Bayneham, who began to repent of her undertaking, then told him of the two little scenes she had witnessed, and his face grew dark. "If that man dared to write nonsense to my wife, I would follow him to London and thrash him!"' he cried. "I can see how it is Hilda did not tell me she was afraid I should quarrel with him "Nothing of the kind," said Lady Bayneham, trying to allay the tempest she had aroused. "She very likely never thought of naming it at all she cannot run to you every time any one either speaks or writes to ber." "Then why have you named it? asked Lord Baynebam, impatiently. "If there is nothing wrong, extraordinary, improper, wonderful, or anything else in it, why did you come to

-i

"Claud, I quite despair of you, said the countess, haughtily, "I have explained my motives. Your wife is young, beautiful and untrained in the world's ways it is your place to warn her, and see that her very innocence and simplicity do no cause her to act imprudently."

Lord Bayneham sighed be was not quite clear as to what his mother really meant. He saw one thing plainly sbe was not actuated by any unkind feeling toward Hilda but, before he had time to reply, Barbara entered, her face glowing with exercise and her hand filled with choice fern leaves. "See, aunt," she said, touching Lady Bayneham's face with' her fresh red lips, "I have found all these treasures they will make your collection complete. Good morning. Claud you look—well, not one half as bright as the morning."

For the first time she noticed the nneasy expression of both faces._ "I am sorry to hear Hilda is not well this morning," she continued. "Pauline tells me she has not left her room so I will go and see her." "If you are not otherwise engaged, Claud," said Lady Bayneham, as Miss Earle quitted the room, "perhaps you would go with me round the shrubbery. I should like a short walk before the heat of the day comes on." "I am quite at your service, mother," he replied, listlessly, longingtobewith Hilda, and read, for nis own satisfaction, the truth in her beautiful eyes.

Lady Bayneham wished some time to elapse before her son saw his wife, resolving to give a change -to his thoughts and ideas. Of all fatal deeds that morning she committed the most fatal. "I.et us go down the Lady Walk, she said, taking her son's arm. "I like the quiet shade."

They turned down the broad shady path called the Lady's Walk, tall branching trees met there overhead, forming a depth of cool shade.

The morning air was soft and clear, the birds Bang sweetly, the flowers bloomed, and all nature was smiling and gay. As they drew nearer the end of the walk Lord Bayneham saw something shining and glittering in the long thick grass. "What have we here?" he said, stooping for -the shining prize. He nearly dropped it again, in uncontrollable astonishment. It was his wife's bracelet, the one he had seen upon her arm the night before, and had spoken to his mother about it was the very same there were the costly pearls and the pale, pure gold, with his initials and those of his wife entwined. "Hilda's bracelet!" cried Lady Bayneham, in sheer wonder "why, how did that come here? How careless to drop a valuable piece of jewelry like that! Is it injured?" she continued, for her son did not speak. "How strange that it should be here!" she said, taking it from his hand. "Why, Claud, Hilda wore this last evening I saw it on her arm when you bade her good night. How came it here?"

No reply came from the young earl but a strange dark look gathered over his handsome face, marring its beauty with passion. "She must have been out this morning," said Lady Bayneham "Yet Pauline said she had not quitted her room. Can there have been a robbery, Claud?" "We must inquire," said Lord Bayneham sternly. ''This bracelet was on my wife's arm when I bade her good night this morning I find it here who has dropped it

For a moment the mother and son looked steadily at each other then Lord Bayneham turned to re-enter the house. In the hall they met Lady Hilda's maid—pretty, smiling Pauline —who dropped her moBt coquettish courtesy before the young earl. "Is Lady Hilda down yet?" asked the countess. "My lady has been indisposed all the morning," replied the maid "and she has not yet left ber room." "Has she not been in the park?" asked Lady Bayneham, quickly. "My lady is ill," said Pauline again, with a look of astonishment, "and has not yet left her room." "Hush, mother," said the Earl, when the maid had passed on. "Ask no questions from servants. Hilda will explain it, and we shall find no mystery after all. If she is dressed we will go to her room." "Perhaps you bad better go alone, said Lady Bayneham "if there has been no robbery it is all right. Since Lady Rushe's jewel robbery I have always been nervous."

wife but she is very young, and mother, if you will," said Lord Bayneknows nothing of the world. She_ is so innocent and simple that I mention to you a circumstance which I have observed, which in another would not have excited my attention." "What has Hilda been doing?" asked Lord Bayneham, with a smile "has •he broken some terribly severe law of etiquette?" "No, replied the Countess "Lady Hilda's manner is perfect. It is not that, but our late visitor, Mr. Fulton, was a very handsome man, and one who can fascinate where he chose." "Well, and what can that possible have to do with Hilda's shortcomings?" demanded Lord Bayneham quickly. "If you will allow me time, Claud, I can explain," said the countess with

^^•Onthe first evening of bis arrival, we all remarked how much he seemed struck with Hilda. Mind, I insinuate nothing against him he is only a man of the world but I believe he has been trying to get up a sentimental kind of friendship with her." "What makes you think so?" asked the young earl indifferently, for he saw nothing remarkable in any one admiring his wife. "I noticed a little circumstance that struck me rather unpleasantly,' replied Lady Bayneham. "I saw him on two occasions slip a note into her hand." "You must have been mistaken, mother," said her son quickly, his face flushing hotly. "My wife would never receive a letter from any one." "It is true," continued the countess "I do not say there was nothing in them for knowing Hilda to be one of the purest as sbe is one of the loveliest of women, I am sure there could be nothing wrong about it. I would speak to her myself, but it is a delicata matter to interfere with but with a tew well chosen words you can put her on her guard she is so very young and inexperienced." ''You are very kind, mother, said 'Lord Bayneham, rising hastily "but I cannot understand how a note could have nothing in it. I must see Hilda and ask her about it." "Do not be rash or foolish, Claud, said his mother "there is no necessity for any scenes or emotion. Speak to vour wife quietly, for perhaps there is in it. Hilda never even sees one but you. Do not force me to tliatl have treated you like a bi man." must have it explained," said yneham, quietly *'l must

I prefer you accompanying me,

bam "in your eyes I read a half doubt of my wife. Come with me, that I may show you how groundless it is."

They went together up the broad staircase and through the corridor to the door of Lady Hilda's room. A sweet, low voice, that expressed both

E,ady

ain and fatigue, bade them enter. Hilda had risen, and was sitting in her little boudoir, the untasted breakfast on a table by her side. Lord Bayneham forgot even his errand when he saw ber pale face and dim eyes. "Have you been ill, Hilda?" he asked, anxiously. "Why did you not sendforme?" "I did not Bleep," she replied, looking with some surprise at her visitors, "and my head aches. Do you want me for anything?" she asked, "or is this a morning call?"

She tried to smile, but Lord Bayne ham Baw her pale lips tremble then he remembered his errand. "We have been puzzled," he replied, with a smile. "I have been for a walk with my mother this morning— quite a good boy, you see. Lastnignt, when I left you, you wore this bracelet it was fastened on your arm, and this morning I found it in the Lady's Walk, and you have not quitted your room. How came it there, Hilda?

He held it out as he spoke, and a long low cry came irom her pale lipB. "Look!" cried Lady Baynebam, and Claud, springing forward, caught his wife as she was falling, pale and senseless, to the ground. "There is your answer, said the dignified countess, as she rang the bell. "Take care, Claud. It seems to me that there is a*dark shadow hanging over our house. Why should she faint There was nothing so alarming in your words."

CHAPTER XXVUI.

When Lady Hilda opened her eyes and saw her husband bending over her, a cry of fear and terror escaped her lips. The face that she had never seen stern or angry before, was both now there was no smile on his lips, such as he was wont to greet her. Anxiety and sorrow, mingled with impatience, darkened his Drow. Her illness alarmed him he could not understand it. "Did 1 frighten you, Hilda?" he whispered,gently. "How your hands tremble 1 Surely, you are not afraid

the room tears and caresses were not. in her line. "You shall not he teased any more, just now," cried Lord Bayneham. "You have not strength to tell me anytLing. Lie down again, and try to sleep it greives me sorely to see that face."

Her passionate weeping was abated sbe lay passive and etill listening to his voice with a sick feeling of despair.

Lord Bayneham gave Pauline strict injunctions that her lady was not to be disturbed he then left her, hoping she would sleep.

His mother anxiously awaited him, and asked, hastily, "Whatis it Claude. Why was Hilda so heightened "Sbe is very ill," he replied, sadly, "and nervous, not freigbtened, mother. What can she have to fear I was too abrupt." "Did she tell you how the bracelet came to be lying in Lady's Wal& asked the countess. "No," replied ber son "she seemed so ill and unlike herse'f that I did not mention it. I am

Bure

it is all right,

mother," he continued, seeing the expression of her face ''we shall find it no mystery after all. My wife can make all clear in a few words."

Despite his assertion, the morning wore on heavily for Lord Bayneham. Two things weighed upon his mind— the notes he had heard his wife received, and the fact of finding her bracelet in the Lady's Walk. It might be all nonsense—the notes nothing more than a memorandum but the bracelet. There he paused: there were but two solutions to the mystery—either she, his sweet and gentle young wife, bad been there— For what motive he could not imagine —or some one had carried it from the room. Either alternative he felt to be unpleasant. Still he was far from being of a suspicious nature, and would have rested perfectly satisfied with one word of excuse but for the deadly fear which blanched his wife's face when she saw the bracelet in his hand. There was no explanation for that to feel fear she must be conscious of wrong yet what wrong could he imagine her capable of—that gfentle, guileless girl, whose mind and BOUI were as pure as an unstained lily

He tried to make himself feel sure that Hilda would clear away all the unpleasant mystery by a few simple words. Twice he went to the door of her room, and heard with half impatient satisfaction that she still slept and it was long after midday when Pauline told him her lady was awake, but seemed very ill. He looked with unutterable astonishment upon the change in the fair young face, wrought in these few hours. Could it be mere illness or fatigue that had blanched even the lips, and darkened the violet eyes with so deep a shadow? Was it illness that caused her to clasp her hands when she caw him, as one does who prays in mortal agony? "Hilda," he said, "you look as though you suffered terribly. What is it? No trouble can have come to you without my knowing it. What makes you ill? Why do you look so strangely at me What has come between us?"

He waited, but Bhe spoke not a word. "You would never keep a secret from me, I know," he continued, "or I should fancy that something terrible weighed upon your mind. Do not look BO sad. Raise your eyes to mine, love, and, if aught trouble you, tell me—let me share it."

He clasped one arm round her, and drew ber golden head close to him. "Has any one insulted or annoyed you he asked, gently. "No," she replied,—"what could make you think of such a thing?" "Are you sure, Hilda," he asked, "that you have not been subject to annoyance from any of our guests "No," she said again but he saw her face flush with pain. "Why do you ask me such a strange question, Claud?" "My mother thought that on two occasions Mr. Fulton had annoyed you by slipping nonsensical little notes into your hand," he repeated. "Is it true, Hilda?"

He saw her pause before replying to her question. "It is true he gave me two little notes," she said a faltering voice, "but they did'nolr cause me any annoyance, Claud." "May I see them?" he asked. "They are destroyed," she answered, in the same low, constrained voice. "Will you tell me their contents?" he asked again. "I cannot!" she gasped.

He knew not what to say never once had the eyes wherein truth and love shone so brightly been raised to his. The long dark lashes drooped on the white cheek, and she spoke as one under compulsion. "Perhaps," he said, "it was nothing that concerned you—some little affair of his own. Was it so

She answered not a word, and Lord Bayneham continued: "I am no jealous husband, Hilda, interfering and prying into your concerns. Since we have been married I have never sought to know anything of your letters. I have trusted you implicitly in all things, as leal and loyal men do trust. I should not interfere now, but that I have been told these notes were almost forced upon you,— that you received them unwillingly and it has caused me to wonder what they contained."

She raised ber eyes to his face, and their worn, wild expression struck him painfully. "I cannot tell you, Claud," she replied "I would it were poBsible." "Do you know, Hilda," be said gravely, "that nothing can justify you keeping secrets from me? We should have but one mind and one heart between us. You have no right to withhold any thing from me. My idea of married life is one of perfect confidence, trust, and unity. I cannot trt^AWAafa

imagine separate interests. He saw a look of intense pain steal over her gentle face, but she maie no effort to answer him. "I suppose it is useless for me to repeat my wish," he added. "I cannot orce your confidence, if you will not give it to me. I must be content to know there aru dephts in my wife's heart hidden from me."

Lady Hilda shuddered as she remembered what those depths were. He noted her gesture, andsaid, "I am not angry, Hilda I am grieved, wounded, more deeply than I can tell you. What secret can my little wife be keepfromme?"

1

he made some slight movement, aa though longing to throw herself at his feet and tell him.

On her lips the words trembled, I am an impostor—a convict's daughter. I have no right to be here—send me away." 0nc9 she began them, butjhe sound of her own voice frightened her and she stopped—with a scared, wild look on her pale face that grieved and amazed her husband.

Lord Bayneham sat for some minutes in silence,"gazing wistfully at the beautiful trembling girl by his side. He was sadly grieved. His. young wife had ever seemed to him pure, gentle and truthful as a child. Now, with a woman's sorrow on her brow, with her averted eyes and trembling words, she was like a stranger to him and it was with a deep sign at the unpleasant tJtalf before him that he recommenced his inqniries. "We will dismiss that subject, then, Hilda—the first secret ever kept between us," said he. "Now explain for me this mystery—how came your bracelet, the one you should have valned for my sake, to be lying in the Lady's Walk?"

of

me. I have never been angry inth you, love only—I don't understand." She tried to answer blm, but ber over-wrought nerves gave way, and sbe wept passionately, bitterly, as one who had no hope. He soothed her with

Then the calm of that sorrowful young face was broken a quiver of pain passed over each feature a look of despair shadowed the violet eyes but Lady Hilda allowed the anxious, eager man to repeat his question before she seemed to understand it. "Spare me. Claud," «he said, holding out her hands to him. "•Spare you, Hilda!" he cried. "What can you mean?—spare you! What have I ever done that you should speak so to me? Would I not spare you every sorrow if I could I only ask to shield you from all car®, to make ytta happy, and make you love me aa 1 you 7"

love you. "Whatam. to spare

"You cannot think they are pleasant for me," he said. ''Hilda, my mother was with me when I found that bracelet. I read a doubt of you in her eyes it made trie indignant. I cannot ex-

Elainsaid

it Plainly as eyes could speak, era to me there

was

something

wrong. I brought her with me to see how mistaken she was, and you fainted with fear at the question which should have cleared away all silly mystery. That was how you cleared her doubt can you satisfy my love in no. better manner? Am I notquite right in

Bay­

ing that you wore that bracelet on your arm when I bade you good night last evening? It was there, was it not?" "Yes," she replied, despairingly, "it was there." "And the first thing this morning I found it in the Lady's Walk," he continned "yet you have never left your room. Can you not explain how it came to be there?" "I might tell you a falsehood, she cried,—"I might invent false stories that would satisfy you,—but I will not do so let fate do her worst. No untrue words shall stain my lips. I cannot tell you the truth, and I scorn all evasions."

Lord Bayneham's face grew dark as he listened. "More mysteries!" he said, bitterly. "You acknowledge,

then,

you could

explain it if you would, but will not. Lady Hilda bowed her head, and he turned from the sight of that white, despairing face. "Are you trying to shield any one who has robbed you he asked, his eyes growing bright at the thought. "No," she

replied,

"no one has tried

to rob me." "Did you drop the bracelet yourself?" he inquired. "Do not ask me, Claud!" she cried, with clasped hand, her face streaming Fith tears. "I will ask," he repeated, angrily— "and I will know. What nonsense! —what folly! One might fancv I was. a husband in a French play, trying to fathom an intrigue. Did you drop the bracelet yourself, Hilda?—you force me to speak angrily,—answer me." "I have told you I cannot answer you," she replied, with atone of keen, sharp pain in her voice, that changed its music. "I scorn to speak untruly.^ I cannot answer you. Fate must do its worst."

There was despair in her face and voice—despair so deep, so hopeless, that Lord Bayneham knew not what to say or think. "Darling," he said gently, "be candid with me. Even supposing you have done some little action not quite prudent, I could not be angry. I know how sweet, and gentle, and pure my little wife is. Do not make me so unhappy, love. Tell me what it is."

His gentle tone and kind face touched her more than anger could have done, and she laid her head on his breast, like a wearied child who has cried itself to sleep. "Claud," she said, gently, "I cannot tell you. I wish I could die here in your arms, while your face looks kind and you smile on me. It would be easier for me to die than answer your questions." "I say it in sorrow, n&t in anger, Hilda, he replied, kissing ber pale brow, "that the secret you own exists, but which you refuse to' tell mo, I shall find out for myself."

He unclasped her arms as he spoke, and rising from her side he slowly quitted the room. [To be continued, in Hit Sunday Exprm.]

YOUNG PRINCE EUGENE.

Archibald.. Forbes, the Noted Corregpondent,ln the English Magazine.

I hftVp seen Napoleon III. at the pinnaiele' of his hollow splendor. From f3i£ German picket line on August 2, 1870, 1 heard the distant cheering on the Spicherenberg, that greeted him and the lad whom he brought from Metz to receivo that day his "baptism of fire." Again I saw him on the morning after Sedan as the broken man—broken in power, in prestige, in health, in spirtts—sat with Bismarck on the grass plot in front of the weaver's on the Donchery road. Next morning I witnessed his depart^ ure into his Wilhelmshohe captivity. have seen him doddering about Brighton, and strolling under the beech trees that encircle Chislehurst common. And for the last time of all I saw that stolid, careworn face as if it lay on the raised pillow of the bier in the broad corridor of Camden place and when the face was no more visible I witnessed the coffin laid down in the little chapel among the Chislehurst elm trees. I knew the boy of the empire wben the shackles of the empire had fallen from his limbs he was no longer a bucklively acquaintance endured

an ram creature, but a lively natural

T?

lad. Mj his

manhood. When the twilight was

fading on the rolling veldt of Zululand, and his day's work in the staff tent was done, he liked, as it seemed to me, to goBBip with one who knew the other side of the picture, about the early days of the Franco-German war— a war that had wrought at once his ruin and his emancipation. And finally, poor gallant lad! I saw dimly through tears the very last of him, as he lay there dead on the blood-stained swa/d by the ItyotyoBi river, with a calm, proud smile on his face, and bis body pierced by countless assegai stabs. Men have called his death ignoble. Petty as was the quarrel, wretched as was the desertion that wrought his fate, I call him, rather, happy in the opportunity of his death. Had he lived, what of artificiality, what of hollow unreality might there not have been in store for him! As it was, he had moved in the world alive ghost. Better than this, surely, to be a dead hero—to end the Napoleonic serio comedy with his young face gallantly to his assailants, and his lifeblood drawn by the cold steel!

FATHOMS DEEP IN THE BOOK.

Ship-Timbers Found on Olggtng Away a Hill. San Francisco Chronicle?

The workmen excavating for the foundation of a portion of the new iron ship building works at Rolling Mill Point, on the Potrero, yesterday uncovered at twenty feet below the surface, heavy timbers, spiked with copper nails. The place in which these relics were found was a few weeks ago, and before the big Gas-house hill was blasted away, sixty feet or more underground. This remarkable fact 6eems not to have struck the laborers, for at* first they took the oxidized timbers to be buried tree stumps. Mayor Bartlett was at the time visiting the ground with Irving M. Scott, and, having some curiosity to know more than was apparent at first sight, he had one of the men to chip off a piece of the wood. It was then found to be of oak __ excellent preservation. Besides this, the mayor carried away with him about three inches' length of a halfinch square copper Bpike. He advised Mr. Scott to have the whole thing resurrected. As the timbers are imbedded in solid rock, it is doubtful if it would pay to Batisfy antiquarian curiosity. The account of the find leaves a wide margin for imagination. The timbers are thoughtto be the remains of a craft of the days of Sir Francis Drake's fleet and the Spanish galleons but the fact that Owens' shipyard was some years ago located near by may possibly have some effect in upsetting tins romantic theory.

Alphonse Candet doesfmost of his writing between his two breakfasts— the coffee and roll on rising, and the meal of meat, eggs and wine early in the afternoon.

Trinity College, North Carolina, has nineteen Cheirokee Tn^i»m as students this year.

"Any questions," ahe replied, weep-1 Win. Stelxer, of Celiaa, O., captared ing bitterly. "I cannot anrwer them a live xsbblt lately, and it baa four and they tort=r» m*,"

THE TEKRE HAUTE EXPRESS, SUNDAY MORNING, JANUARY 27,1884:

What" the Funny Men Are Telling the Reader.

Lady Agnes Riordan's Pa Didn't Know Him—Mrs. Topnoodj's Cold Day.

The jPa of lad/ Agnes Klordan Didn't Know Him.ri,. .-"Vf *'. Chicago Tribune.

"Does your father know me?" Gaston de Murphy looks tenderly down at the Lady Agnes Biordan as these words, so full of solemn import, leave his ruby-red lips and float slowly out across the broad demesne that stretches away to the westward from the castle, and on which the cabbages are Bwaying gently to and fro in the soft, kisBing wind that comes languidly up from the south, as if loath to leave its sunny home. And the girl, as they fall upon her pink-tinted ear, nestles closely to him in loving fashion, and, although her voice is firm when she answers him, there is a fear-haunted look in the dark brown eyes that are gazing so 3teadily into his and a slight trembling of the pretty white arm with rounded curves and Boft flesh tints that is clinging to his own. "I do not know," she says, "whether he knows you or not, and that is why I am BO fearful—why my heart is always in the anxiety of a painful doubt. It is because I love you so dearly, Gaston," the girl continued"because my love for you is of the mad, unreasoning kind that would renounce parents, home, wealth, everything, for the one upon whom it is bestowed—that these doubtB are ever haunting me, ever peering with their wicked, leering faces from behind the black clouds of sorrow that fill all the horizon of my life—that life which should hold for me nothing but radiant joy and sweet content. And it is only when I think of your great love for me, and, bettor still, when I stand close-pressed in your arms and feel your heart throbbing against mine, tnat I am happy, and then there seems to be no grief nor serrow in all the wide, wide world, and the sky, BO lately overcast with lowering clouds, seems like a shield of turquoise bloom hovering over the earth." "She is a daisy from Daisyville^'savs Gaston softly to himself, "and can talk a man black in the face"—and then turning to the Lady Agnes he bends over her tenderly and kisses the fair white face that is upturned to his. She passes ber dimpled hand over his face in a fond, caressing way that shows how great is the love she bears him. And, then, when both are steeped in the incense of a grand and enduring passion, when all the world seems rose-tinted, there comes suddenly over the girl's face a wave of pallor, and into her brown eyes a look of ghastly' terror that iB frightful in its Liotensity. "My ijNsi!" she cries, "I hear it.

There is jMrebance for a mistake." "HWfcjWh&t?" asks Gaston, his eyes aSkrhe with excitement. "T-he ancestral footstep," says the Lady Agnes, drawing still closer to her lover. "My father iB coming!"

Ten minutes have passed—hot, seething minutes that can never be recalled. The Lady Agnes bends over a form that lies prostrate on the ground at her feet. "Speak to me, papa," she exclaims in agonized accents—"only one little word to let me know that you are not dead!"

The man opens his eyes "And BO that is your lover, Constance "Yes, papa." "And are you sure he did not have brass knuckles or a club "Yes, papa." •Then how do you explain his terrible power—" and the duke of Galway pulled his nose into place as he spoke "He was," said the girl, in a low tremulous voice, "born in Boston."

MRS. TOPNOODY's COLD DAY|

Merchant Traveler. Mr. Topnoody was buttoning up his coat to go downtown Monday night, and as he closed in with the fire he remarked to his wife "My dear, this is a terribly cold night." "Yes, Topnoody, quite cold enough for a sealskin sacque." "But, my dear, I don't think it will last," he continued, not recognizing the hint or the interruption. "No, I don't think it will. In fact, Topnoody, I feel quite sure that by next July there wont be enough frost in the ground to kill a potato bug." "My dear, you are getting to DO real funny, aint you." "Oh, yes, I've been reading the funny newspapers, and I have to do something to dispel the gloom." "I think, my dear, that this is the coldest weather I ever experienced." "Possibly, Topnoody, but that is not my experience.' "No? Why, my dear, we have always lived in this neighborhood, and I certainly would remember any colder weather than this."

I don't care what you remember, I know what I know." "You were never any further north, were you?" "No." "Then, my dear, I am sure you are mistaken. I have kept a record of the weather and I know the temperature of every day for the past thirty years, and none is colder than this." "There is one day you haven't recorded, Topnoody, butl've got it down in my mind ana have had it there fresher every hour since its occurrence." "And you are Bure it wai a colder day than this?" "Yes, I know it." "Well, I'd like to know what day it was, so I can make a note of it." "It was the day, Topnoddy, that I married you, and the more I think of it and you, the more I am convinced that it was the coldest day in my life, and you know me well enough to know that it is only a very cold day" "Good evening," said Topnoddy, making a break for the door.

HE TOOK THE HINT.

Philadelphia Call. They were sitting alone in the parlor when she sweetly remarked: "George, dear, can you tell me why it is that the course of true love never runs smoothly "It does run smoothly, darling, said George, passionately. "What could be smoother than the course of our true love?" "And love is blind, it it not? she went on. "Yes, love is said to be blind, replied George, wondering what she was trying to get at. "Well, I can tell you why true love never runs smoothly," and she looked at the lapel of his coat as though

WHY Wl TiATTfiH prompt reply "but what puzzlesuie "U1

ljAtWI1,

HE BELIEVED IT.

Detroit Free Press.

A colored individual who went down on the slippery flags at the corner of Woodward avenne and Congress street scrambled up and backed out into the street and took a long look towards the roof of the nearest building. "Ton Ml from that thiid-story win-

dow!" remarked a pedestrian who bad Me. witnessed the tamt "BOM, beliavM

\em dequesbun of how I got np dar, an' why I was leanin' outer de winder!"

STB AY BITS OFFCS.

A Texas man will go four of five miles to get a drink. A Vermont man won't. He'll just hang around the

fin-millto

all the time, ana never allow

imself get four or five miles away from it. Said the Colorado man: "No we never commit suicide by hanging in our state. A man doesn't want to be suspected of being lynched."

A boy in New York state has swallowed a tin whistle. We are sorry for the whistle, very sorry but what a relief it must be to the neighbors.—Burlington Hawkeye.

When a girl has lost ber spirits she doesn't stand the ghost of a chance. No one can respectre. "Yes, John is a little wild, and I'm somewhat afraid of him, but he's got a good run of trade and we can't discharge him very well. Tell you what lets do. Take him into the firm, and I guess he'll be glad to get out in less than six months."

A bad man

Bhows

his bringing up

when he brought up by a policeman.— New Orleans Picayune. "Now I lame down," remarked a man when he tumbled and sprained his ankle. "I know," said a little Chicago girl to her elder sister's young man at the supper table, "that you will join our society for the protection of little birds, because mamma says you are very fond of larks." The youth promptly handed over a five-dollar note as an initiation fee, and thinks in due time he will be a full-fledged ornithological humanitarian.

The Chicago Tribune has seen Irving, and says that his "intellectuality is luminous and widely horizoned.-' Gosh! Sounds like a description of one of the red sunsets! Henry will send home a copy of that paper.—Lowell Citizen.

A funny young man asked his love

young

the other day: "What's the difference between meand a female sheep?" and when his love gave it up the funny young man said, "Why, just the same difference as there is between ewe and me." Unfortunately his love didn't see the joke, and now the funny young man is ventilating his ewemor otherwhere.—Harvard Lampoon.

HE CURSED GOD AND DIED.

A Philadelphia Stricken Down With Blasphemous Words on His Lip* and Now a Corpse. Philadelphia Special. -f

The sudden illness of Lemuel Thomas, while he was blasphemously impersonating the Savious at a supper party, his subsequent paralysis of the heart and the finding of his body in his bedroom has given Jenkintown and its" vicinity a sensation. Thomas was a carpenter, over sixty jears of age, who rarely attended church and who was noted in Jenkintown for his disregard of religion. On Monday evening he met two friends of kindred disposition, by arrangement/at Coltman's Hotel. They had made every provision for a supper, and the table were loaded with poultry and liquors. Every one was in good health and spirits. Before they sat down one of the guests suggested that Thomas, who was the oldest man present should offer up a prayer. This he did amid the laughter and jests of those present, among whom were Richard Micers, a town councilman, and Henry Thomas, the only son of the host.

After they had been seated one of the men said that the reunion, on account of there being thirteen,present, was suggestive of the last supper, and while they were eating, drinking and shooting, Thomas uttered a terrible oath and made use of some blastphemous expressions that shocked even his comrades. They all started up with amazement at his words, when suddenly he grew pale and putting his hands to his Lead complained of pain. It was not until 11 o'clock that this occurred and the supper had opened shortly after 8. "I'm afraid it's my last supper, after all," the miserable man moaned. Then clutching his chair and rising with difficulty he announced to the rest: "I must vacate the chair boys. You must get some other president. I'm going home."

Thomas was taken home, and he complained that his head felt as if it had received a terrible blow. His daughter left him when she fancied he had fallen asleep, and the next morning he was found dead in his bed. A horrible Bmile played over his features and his eyes were starting out of their sockets, "as if," said a woman relative in describing it afterwards, "he had seen something awful and died while staring at it."

A post-mortem examination will be made to-morrow.

Panic in a Menagerie.

London Telegraph. A terrible panic occurred at a menagerie yesterday which, during the New York week, is exhibiting at Bolton. It appears that about three o'clock a "lion tamer" entered the den occupied by tigers and before he had time to close the door one of the tigers slipped between his legs and bounded into the middle of the menagerie, which was thronged at the time with spectators. A scene of the wildest excitement followed. The tiger, becoming more and more enraged, rushed about the tent, but on the approach of the lion tamer it slunk into a corner, when attempts were made by the regular attendants to secure it by covering it with a large empty barrel. In the meanwhile the mass of people who had obtained admission at the exhibition during the afternoon ran to the steps leading from the menagerie. Many were thrown on the ground and not a few were trampled upon. The force of the crush was such at one corner that the boarding between the two caverns was thrown down and through the breach thus made, women rushed out screaming and fainting, while others came pouring out through the main entrance, causing intense commotion among the people collected outside. In the confusion one young waman was thrown against a cage, whereupon a tigress in it immediately thrust out a

Eaw,

Bhe

would like to go to sleep there. "Love iB blind and instead of helping the blind it is considered the proper thing to pull down the blind."

George acted upon this hint and pulled down th® blind. R..-,* TOO MUCH FRENCH. "Who done that?" snapped Mrs. Joggers at her daughter. "That new hair-cloth sofa is plumb busted in two!" "Tantmieux,ma mere," replied the daughter, who had just graduated at a French school. 'Tain't you Well,I'd like to know who else it is. Wasn't you settin'on it two hours last night with that little whipper-snapper of a Tompkins?" Merchant Traveler.

tore off her bonnet and lacerated er neck. She was taken to the infirmary. While all this was going on the escaped tiger had been secured by means of the barrel, and it was replaced in its den. The space in the centre had scarcely been cleared when a report spread that- the animal had escaped the second time. Again there was a frightful rush among those inside the menagerie. The rumor was, however, groundless. The boarding broken down in the first rush was replaced, and the band having begun to play tranquillity was restored. rf-ATA

Canned Food.

.• .*

-ttZ it&r

D. R. Locke In Toledo Blade. It is a singular fact that we are indebted to Pompeii for the great industry of canning fruit. £Years ago when the excavations were just beginning, party of Cincinnatians found, in what h«d been the pantry of a house, many jars of preserved figs. One was open ed, and they were found to be fresh and good. Investigation showed that the figs had been put into the jars in a heated state, an aparture left for the steam to escape, and then sealed with wax. The hint was taken and next year canning fruit was introduced in the United States, the process bein identical with that in vogue in Pomp® twenty centuries ago. Hie old ladies in America who fantomatoes and peaches do not realize that they «reindebted for this art to a people who were literally ashea bnt a tew y®*™ after Christ. There is nothing newtinder the son. OaMed tojnatoM and loaded dice—the people of Pompeii bad th*' both.

THE TAMING OF LIONS.

Interesting Motes from the Kxpertence* of a Professional Trainer.

Forest and Stream. Not every man can succeed in this work, for it not only requires a quick eye and steady nerve, but also a peculiar sympathy with animals, which is inborn and not to be acquired. I began as a boy in teaching tricks to small animals, then tried my hand upon a hear which, as a cub of six months, was procured in Canada, and succeeded very well. "Jack" was the wonder and delight of the neighborhood.

My first experience in lion-taming was in Hamburg, Germany, where I became acquainted with a professional man, owner of a "Handels menagerie," where all the animals are for sale. He had a group of five lions and a Bengal tiger, which he was training for a circus. The animals were all young, varying from eleven to eighteen months. Yielding one day to my earnest entreaties, but with the warning to keep close to him, be let me enter the cage with him, and from that hour dates my personal experience with the "king of the forest" After my first trial I went in several times with -Mr. H., and began to understand the art, and when, soon after, he was called away to Berlin on business, I undertook to keep the beasts in working order for him, and brought them on well. Since then I have put together two groups, one of six lions and a leopardess, and the other consisting of four lions, one tiger and a jaguar.

It is less dangerous to train lions bred in freedom than those bred in menageries or zoological gardens. This may seem at first very improbablejbut when one remembers that the animal in his wild state is utterly unacquainted with man, whereas his captive brother from his birth has been 6tared at, teased apd tormented by him, one can well understand how "familiarity" has bred "contempt" in this case as well as in many others. Lions born in captivity learn their tricks more easily, as they are more accustomed to their cage and to being looked at, and their attention is not so easily diverted from the trainer.

The cage in which one tames lions is from fourteen to sixteen feet long, nine and a half to ten feet in width, and eight to ten feet in height. It is a mistake to have the cage too large, as it sensibly increases the danger to the trainer. The great danger and the one most to be avoided is letting the animals to get a chance to spring at you, and to prevent.this one mustkeep as close to them as possible. Of course, being so near, the trainer is often clawed—that is, hit at with the pawbut this makes only a flesh wound, whereas if the lions have room to make their spring, which being nearly always directed at the head, is generally fatal.

There is very little truth in the popular idea that the human eye has great power over lions. It certainly makes him uncomfortable to be looked at steadily, and be will turn away his head, but this is only for the reason that, his eyes being further apart than ours, the concentrated effort at sight makes him squint which, as we all know, is strained and unnatural. How is it possible for a trainer to keep

hiB

eyes upon six or eigbtanimals at once If we depend only upon the power of our eye we should soon make Food for the lions, a chance they would not be slow to avail themselves of. For, the whip is the trainer's chief reliance and it can not be used too freely. It is made of plaited leather, without lash, and is from two to two and a half feet long. I have tried the efi'ects of eleotricity upon animals as a means of training, carrying a small battery in my pocket and running the wire down through the middle of the whip, so that when the whip touched one of them he received a shock but this did not succeed it extites tkem so much and they are so afraid of it that they can not steady down to their work.

Before entering the cage I usually throw in a few handfuls of sawdust to prevent slipping. It is important to enter as quickly as possible and to have a man ready to open and shut the door. The most dangerous part of the whole performance is in making one's exit, wnich must be done very quickly. To prevent the lions trying to get out witn you wben they seethe door open they must first be driven to the far end of the cage, and this gives them the opportunity to make a spring, a chance which they are not slow to improve, and many a life has been lost at this final moment, when to outside eyes all dangers have been overcome.

To make a successful exit, after driving the animals to the further corner of the cage, the trainer gradually backs toward the door, cracking his whip and keeping "bis eye fixed upon the animals. As he touches^ the door the attendant, who is waiting outside, quickly throws it up in one backward step he has passed through, and it drops again, and only just in time to clear the advancing foe, who comes with a wild spring to take his revenge. It is difficult to make the spectator believe that this, apparently the easiest part of the entire performance, really lies the greatest danger of

In performing a "group" it is better to put the animals together while still bo young that they may grow up together. The first trick taught is to jump over a hurdle at the word of command, then to spring through paper covered hoops, fire-hoops (covered with cotton wool, soaked in spirits and ignited), to lie down together, forming a couch upon which the trainer stretches himself at full length, opening their mouthB while he puts his head in, and other acts. Of these tricks those of the fire hoops are the hardest to teach and involve the most danger to the trainer, for if a drop of the burning fluid falls upon an animal, he is wild with pain and rage and turns upon his tormentor. My three most serious accidents have happened in this way.

Lions need very careful handling, and it may also be of interest to some of your readers to know some of the details. The temperature in their houses should be always within 14 to 17 degrees Reaumur. 8traw should be put in the cage at night and taken out again In the morning, and replaced by a few handsful of sawdust. Great care must be taken to keep the cage clean and perfectly dry. It is better to feed the animals twice a day, giving them at each meal about seven pounds of mert and bone horse flesh is generally used for the purpose. They should also get from three to four quarts of lukewarm milk every day.

Lions have generally two litters a year, and from two to five cubs in a litter. Two or three days before the cubs are born it is better to put the lioness by herself, and to close up the front of the cage with planks or by

1— OA 4-KO+

simply covering it with a rag, so that she may be as little disturbed as possible. The young lions will already, at six weeks, begin trying to chew at the meat given to the mother, and at two montlis can eat the softer parts of it.

There is little risk of death to the young lions until they have reached their ninth month, when they begin to shed tbeir teeth, which is the most trying time for them. In some cases the first teeth need to be removed, but by giving them hard bones at this time they generally can bite them out by themselves. They reach their full growth at about two years, although the mane of the male takes four or five years to come to perfection.

Economy in Elopements.

Eastern Exchange. "That's all nonsense!" remarked a well known physician to a reporter the other day, as he threw paper containing an account of a runaway in which the daughter of a local fignred as heroine. "What's nonsense, doctor?" "Why, this runaway match which ydh have just published. That elopement was all a sham- It's as simple as can be. The girl's father is one of the

best known men in this section of the town, and is a politician besides. He has, necessarily, a large acquaintance with the element who are always expecting him to stand treat upon the slightest pretext, and, what with this ana other wedding festivities, supper and other etceteras, his daughter's marriage, if solmnized in the onlinary manner, would have cost him a great deal of money. An elopement saved all this, so he' just opposed his daughter's wishes strongly enough to give the pretext for the two to run out of town a bit, where the expenses of the wedding, all told, didn't amount to more than five or ten dollars."

EATING POISON IN OOURT.

Col. John Tan Annan's Famous Defense of a Murderess—A Correct Version.

Fortv years ago Col. John Van Arman, the famous criminal lawyer of Chicago, ate a poisoned biscuit before a Michigan jury, and by that act secured the acquittal of a woman charged with attempting to murder her husband. From that time until now the story of the poisoned biscuit has been told throughout the northwest many hundreds of times by lawyers and others, but it has seldom been told correctly. So far as known, the true version has never appeared in print. Since the incorrect story of the matter has received such wide circulation, a reliable narrative of the incident will doubtless prove-readable to many.

Somewhere between the years of 1840 and 1845, the wife of a farmer of Hillsdale county, Michigan, baked some biscuits one Sunday morning and then went to church, leaving her husband to take dinner alone. As he sat down to his meal, however, a young farm laborer came to the house and joined him at his repast. Each ate of the newly baked biscuits, but quickly found them unpalatable and put them aside. Neither one had eaten more than half a biscuit. Both were soon taken violently ill and displayed strong symptoms oi arsenical poisoning. The young man recovered from his sickness after some days of intense suffering, but the farmer lingered in a dying condition for more than a year, and finally expired.

Sixteen years before this time the farmer had married his wife for her money. She brought him $3,000. He purchased a farm with this amount, and in a few years became quite forehanded. His greatest enjoyment, apparently, was to annOy his wife every conceivahle manner. His favorite amusement was to pull tbeir little child out of bed in the night and beat it cruelly. They finally concluded to obtain a divorce from each other. The farmer agreed to give his wife a lien on his property for $1,600 for the support of herself and her child. The mortgage was made out and placed in a lawyer's hand to await the divorce. The wife, in consideration of the mortgage, signed a quit-claim deed to all ner husband's property. Oa the eve of the granting of the divorce the farmer secured the mortgage and destroyed it, intending to put the deed on record after the divorce was granted. His wife discovered the cheat and stopped the divorce proceedings. She then deliberately planned to kill her husband. She

Bought

a reconciliation and went back

to live with him. One day she dis-

f[illsdale,and

uised herself in male attire, went to purchased a quantity of arsenic. This she mixed in a batch of biscuits, and left them for her husband to eat.

In a short time she was arrested. By law the woman could not be tried for murder because her husband lived more than a year after he was poisoned. She was indicted lor poisoning and put on trial in Hillsdale. Mr. Van Orman, then a young man, with a law office at Marshall, Mich., defended her. A young French chemist from Detroit testified against the accused. He was the only chemist Detroit afforded and he was a very incompetent one. This young man swore Defore the grand jury that he had analyzed several of the biscuits which the prisoner made for her husband's eating and Lad found they contained arsenic. From his quantitative anylysis he swore positively that the husband had swallowed less than a grain of arsenic. The chemist further swore that a grain of arsenic was a deadly dose, and that even less might be fatal.

There were no railroads in Michigan at that early day, and there was not another chemist nearer than Chicago. Mr. Van Arman, who had studied chemistry in his youth, and had even delivered lectures on the subject, plainly saw thi.t the Frenchman's testimony was wofully incorrect. Mr. Van Arman contended before the jury that a grain of Arsenic was only a medicinal dose, and that the defendant's husband, therefore, must have become fatally ill through some other agency than poison in the biscuits, lie could produce no expert testimony to substantiate his theory, because no experts were within reach. Knowing that a grain of arsenic would not seriously affect the human system, he caused a number of biscuits to be baked by a physician of the town, each of them containing a grain of the deadly substance. Fortunately for his client there were none of the original poisoned biscuits to be had, ana the jury could not murmur against the substitution of new ones.

Having proved by the physicians who made them that the biscuits were properly poisoned, Mr. Van Arman, near the beginning of his closing argument, gracefully ate one of them Before the jury and continued to address them. He remained in their sight for several hours, and took pains to show them that he swallowed no antidote. The grain of arsenic produced no ill effects on him. The prosecuting lawyer could not argue away the plain fact of the harmless though poisoned biscuit which the jury had seen eaten. When the case was given to them thejwery promptly acquitted the piisoner,

The truth regarding the biscuits of which the farmer partook was that they contained four or five times as much arsenic as the young chemist swore they did.

The commonly accepted version of this famous story has always been that Mr. Van Arman ate one of the original poisoned biscuits just as he closed his final argument, and that, after making his bow to the jury, he hastened out of the court room and swallowed a vast quantity of emetics as soon as the door closed behind him^ This incorrect story is said to be quite annoying to Mr. Van Armam, as it represents him resorting to a disgraceful •rick to secure the acquittal of his client

Ghosts Rolling Snowballs. ew Castle, Petln., Special. A decidedly remarkable phenomenon has been developed in this county in connection with the recent snow storm. In various sections many snowballs, as large as patent buckets, constructed like those made by boys rolling a lump of the congealed fiuid around, have been discovered.' In particular has this strange freak been noticeable in Neshannock township. On the farm of William Gibson, in that section of the county, they are so numerous that the ground, at a distance, presents much the appearance of a prairie dog^ village under a sheet of snow. The balls are oblong in shape, and invariably have a funnel-ehapedhole fnone Bideofthero. How they were formed is what Pa5*'_ff those

0«

who have seen them,

theory has as yet been

advanced

would afford a

tnat

reasonable

the mystery.

solntion to

They

have been diacov-

ered in the midst of laige open fields, et [there were no marks of human .ooteteps to be found anywhere near them in the unbroken snow. The balls are aa compact, and constructed with as much precision as though molded bv hand. The only marks to be found their vicinity ia the track mad*

where they rolled and gathered the snow. They were discovered in the greatest numbers Sunday morning, yet no wind prevailed the night before, and consequently a theory that small balls of snow had rolled around by the elements until they attained the size they now are can not be advanced as the correct one. Undoubtedly human agency had nothing to do with them, or there would have been indications left, in the neighborhood to that effect, taking the phenomenon all in all, it

18 a

ir' scientists will have to

crack. The superstitious in the vicinlnr of the these freaks of nature are not slow to attribute a supernatural origin to them, and wisely snake their heads and say they area foreboding of dira disasters during 1884, forming as thev do, so near the beginning of the new year.

*3Fy

SEALSKINS FOR HIRE

Keeping In the Fashion at a Monthly Rental. New York Morning Journal. wCs-

On a small card placed in the window of a second-hand clothing store in Canal street readers are informed that sealskin sacques and silk fur-lined dolmans are for sale or hire. "Renting sealskin sacques and jackets, as well as fur-lined dolmans, is not a novelty to us by any means," said the proprietor. "We have been in the business several years, and we find that renting out sealskin sacques increases every year. You must understand we have only a few actually new sealskin sacques on hand, as they do not pay us for the large outlay, ranging from $200 to $700 each. Those who can afford to buy valuable sacouea get tired of the cut or shape. Tney are then disposed of to the secondhand man, and he iu turn rents the sacques out to the best advantage. Some of these sealskins are almost as good as new, having beta well taken care of." "What are your terms for renting these sacques?" "Ah, that all depends upon the selection made, whether the cloak ia-' long or short, and what condition the sacque may be in at the time it is/,* hired. Our rates are governed by the extent of the time the party wishes to keep the sacque. If only for a week1 or a month or so we charge more, but if for the season—that is. three months —we make a reduction." "What are your prices for fair sealskin sacques, say tor two months "If the sacque is in good condition we can get in cold weather $40 for two months. We have others we can rent'! lower, but they are those that have long been on band, and on close inspection look the worse for wear. We rent as low as $3 per week. We don't/ make so much out of the business, however, as we used to." "What class of people are vour customers?" "Some of the most respectable fami-. lies. Some ladieB don't want to buy a sacque right out, as the shape and style may alter after a year or so. We can altar them to suit any fashion. Then, again, they are running no risk of having their furs moth-eaten, which is a great consideration, if the sacque is of any value. Husbands find it cheaper to rent a sacque by the month or season than to buy one." "How many do you rent out during the winter season? "You may say from one hundred to one hundred and forty. Many of these sacques are 'popped' with our. uncle during the summer months for their full amount, and more often than not they are not released from pawn." "What becomes of the sacques after being well worn "We Bell them at auction to our best advantage. So long as you say it is sealskin you can find lots of buyers.

Frequently purchasers, green in the business, pay double the value of a. sacque. That's their business, however. If the weather should only ecu-, tinue cold until the close of March we shall do a rattling business. Why, a high-toned servant girl does not consider herself dressed unless she can syort her sealskin on Sunday." "Do you require a deposit to be paid when a sack is taken away?" "Sometimes, if we do not know the parties. They have to sign a contract to return the sack in good condition: if not they are liable to pay the damage done. No, we don't often get cheated out of a sacque. In all cases the rental has to be paid in advance. Silk furlined dolmans are not BO much inquired.,. after, although a good many are rented by working girls.

I, A MAN OP DETAlIiS.

He Bounced the Directors and Madei the Employes Hnstle.

The Wall Street News says that the complaint that Mr. Villard was too big a man to understand the details of railroad management, and that lie really never knew anything of O. T., outside of making mortgages, brings to mind the case of an Ohio road. It had president after president, and each one eocked his feet up on the office desk and let her rip. She had "ripped" until the directors finally got togetherand decided that the right man must be found pretty soon or the road must go to the wall. They were consul ing in a room looking out into the passenger depot. A train came in eighteen minutes behind time, and the train dispatcher booted the conductor out of one door, fired the engineer out of another, and run the fireman under a freight train. He then backed the train out, and was coming back from the yards, when the directors met him and one oi them asked:

Mr. Thomas, can you accept the presidency of tnis road?" "Wait a minute," was the reply and the man shunted three cars, cuffed a switchman, drove two loafers out of the yard, and returned and said: •'Why, yes, I suppose so and the first thing I shall do is fire you all out of here! Don't let me see you around here again for six months.'

In a year the road was paying a dividend. Nast's Fight With the Harpers.

I am told, writes the Brooklyn Eagle Man-About-Town, that it is probable. that Thomas Nast, the cartoonist, will- .• institute a suit against the Harpers. As the case now stands, Mr. Nast receiving $10,000 a year from the Harperson the condition that he will draw a cartoon for them every week and work for no other periodical. has been drawing his cartoons every: week for two years, and the Harpers^ have stowed them away on a ftoelfand^ resolutely refused to publish them* Meantime they pay the ^omrtreg.| ularly. There has been a quartet between them and they revenge themselves by. refusing to put his pictures in their paper. Nast and Sis friends claim that he made the reputation of Harpers Weekly and that he put it on the sound financial basis on wliich it now etands.PoBBibly the Harpers believe this too, and they give him $10,000 a year as a testimony of tbeir appreciation. Mr. Nast is an enterprising man.

A bottle of pain killer for Queen Victoria's knee lies in the dead-letter office.

Dom Pedro heads a Brazilian rob-, scription to the'' Longfellow memorial fund,

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tPh™re«Jheh"«»" i» tR-, world. He is very much chagrined though about the non-publication of*bis work, and it is to secure their production and get back into his formerposition of influence in the political world that he is said to he contemplating the lawsuit.