Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 November 1884 — Page 3

GLEANED IN POETIC FIELDS,

To Haggle Mitchell.

Chicago News. My grands ire, years and years ago, In round old English used to praise

Sweet Maggie Mitchell's pretty way* And her fair face that charmed him 10.

Her tuneful voice and curly hair, Her coquetry and subtle art Ensnared my grands ire's willing heart, And ever reigned supremely there.

In time my father felt the force Of conning Maggie Mitchell's smiles, And, dazzled by her thousand wiles, He sang her glories, too, of oourse.

Quite natural, then, it was that I— Of such a sire and grandsire, too— When this dear sprite first met my view. Should learn to rhapsodise and sigh.

And now my boy—of tender ageIndites a sonnet to the curl Of this most fascinating girl That ever romped the mimic stage'.

O, prototype of girlhood truth, Of girlhood glee and girlhood prank, By what good fortame hast thou drank The wateri of eternal youth!

Necessity.

liecessity, whom long 1 deemed my foe, Thou cold, unsmiling and hard-Tisaged dame, Now I no longer see thy face, I know

Thou wert my friend, beyond reproach or blame.

My best achievements, and the fairest flights Of my winged fancy, were inspired by thee, Thy stern voioe spurred m# to the mountain heights,

Thy importuning* bade me doand be.

Bat for thy breath, the spark of living fir* Within me might have smonldersd oat at length But for thy lash, which would not Ut, m* tire,

I never would have measured my own strength.

But for thine of times meroilesn control Upon rav life that nerved me past despair, I never should have dug deep in my soul

And found the mine of treasures hidden there.

And though we walk divided pathways now, And I no mors may see thee, to the end, I weave this little ohaplet for thy brow,

Thus other hearts may know, and hail the* friend. —[Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Reveille.

The golden gates of morn are wide On every blade the dews are bright The aiure veil is drawn to hide

The awful glories of the night The roses each to each have told, Another sun will soon be seen And shall not I my light behold?

Make day for me—come forth, my Qu»en,

The tale the river told all night Has taken now a ((ladder strain The flowers, as ea^er for thy sight,

With odors seek thy window-pans The jasmine tells thee, Light is come, And waves across the lattice-screen And shall thy voioe be longer dumbf

Make music for my heart, my Queen.

In shade as yet, the eastern hill Stands sharp against the yellow sky, The purple woods are sleeping still,

And white mists in the valley lie But westward slopes are all awake With change and play of softer green O Love, my summer morning make, 'Tia time for day—shine forth, my Queen. —[William Waterfleld.

"I SAY NO:"

Or,THE LOVE LETTER ANSWERED.

By WILKIS COLLINS.

J900X TME rI RUT-A SCHOOL.

CHAPTER IV.

MIBS LADD'S DRAWING MASTER. Francine was awafcened the next morning by one of the house maids, bringing up her breakfast on a tray. Astonished at this concession to laziness, in an institution devoted to the practice of all the virtues, she looked round. The bedroom was deserted. "The other young ladies are as busy as bees, miss," the housemaid explained. "They were up and dressed four hours ago and the breakfast has been cleared away long since. It is Miss Emily's fault. She wouldn't allow them to wake you she Baid you could be of no possible use down-stairs, and you'd better be treated like a visitor. Miss Cecilia waB so distressed at your missing your breakfast that she spoke to the housekeeper, and I was sent up to you. Please to excuse it if the tea's cold. This is Grand Day, and we are all topsy-turvy in conseuence."

Inquiring what "Grand Day" meant, and why it produced this extraordinary result in a ladies' school, Francine discovered that the first day of the vacation was devoted to the distribution of prizes, in the presence of parents, guardians, and friends. An entertainment was added, comprising those merciless tests of human endurance called recitations light refreshments and musical performances being distributed at intervals, to encourage the exhausted audience. The local newspaper sent a reporter to describe the proceedings, and some of Miss Ladd's young ladies enjoyed the intoxicating luxury of seeing their names in print. "It beginB at 3 o'clock," the housemaid went on, "and, what with practicing and rehearsing, and ornamenting the school room, there's a hubbub fit to make a person's head spin 4 iv iv

sides which," said the girl, lowering her voice, and approaching a little nearer to Francine, "we have all been taken by surprise. The first things in the morning Miss Jethro left us, without saying good-by to anybody." "Who is Miss Jethro "The new teacher, miss. We none of us liked her, and we all suspect there's something wrong. Miss Ladd and the clergyman had a long talk together yesterday (m private, you know), and they sent for Miss Jethro— which looks bad, doesn't it? Is there anything more I can do for you, miss It's a beautiful day after the rain. If I was you, I should go and enjoy myself in the garden.

Having finished her breakfast, Francine decided on profiting by this sensible suggestion.

The servant who shewed her the way to the garden was not favorably impressed by the new pupil Francine's temner asserted itself a little too plainly in her face. To a girl possessing a high opinion of her own importance it was not very agreeable to feel herself excluded, as an illiterate stranger, from the one absorbing interest of her schoolfellows. "Will the time ever come." she wondered bitterlv, "when I shall win a prise, and sing and plav before all the company How I should enjoy making the girls envy me!"

Abroad lawn overshadowed at one end by fine old trees—flower beds and shrubberies, and winding paths pretty and invitingly laid out—made the earden a welcome refuge on that fine summer morning. The novelty of the scene, sfter her experience in the West ludies, the delicious breeies cooled by the rain of the night, exerted their cheering influence even on the sullen disposition of Francine. She smiled, in spite of herself, as she followed the pleasant paths, and heard the birds singing their summer songs over her head.

Wandering among the trees, which occupied a considerable extent of ground, she passed into an open space vjeyond, and discovered an old flsh-

Jlo!V overgrown by acquatic plants. ^riNets of water trickled from a dilapidated fountain in the middle. On the farther side of the pond the ground sloped downward toward the south, and revealed, nver a low paling, a pretty view of a Ntfg© and its church, backed by fi' mounting the

fi'

heathy sides ind. A

vona. ing,

hills be' wooded

£tle

of a Swiss cottage was placed so as to command the prospect. Near it, in the shadow of the building, stood a rustic chair and table—with a color box on one and a portfolio on the other. Fluttering over the grass, at the mercy of the capricious breeze, was a neglected sheet of drawing paper. Francine ran round the pond, and picked up the paper just as it was on the point of being tilted into the water. It contained a sketch in watercolors of the village and the woods. Francine had looked at the view itself with indifference—the picture of the view interested her. Ordinary visitors to galleries of art, which admit stu dents, show the same strange perversity. The work of the copyist commands their whole attention they take no interest in the original picture

Looking up From the sketch, Francine was startled. She discovered a man, at the window cf the Swiss sum mer house, watching her. "When you have done with that drawing," he said, quietly, "please let me have it back again."

He was tall and thin and dark. His finely shaped, intelligent face—hidden, as to the lower part of it, by a curly black beard—would have been absolutely handBome, even in the eyes of a school-girl, but for the deep furrows that marked it prematurely between the eye-brows and at the sides of the mouth. In the same way, an underlying mockery impaired tiie attraction of his otherwise refined and gentle manner. Among his fellowcreatures, children and dogs were the only critics who appreciated his merits, without discovering the defects which lessened the favorable appreciation of him by men and women. He dressed neatly, but bis morning coat was badly made, and his picturesque felt hat was too old. In short, there seemed to be no good quality about him which was not perversely associated with a drawback of some kind. He was one of those harmless and luckless men, possessed of excellent qualities, who fail nevertheless to achieve popularity in their social sphere.

Francine hanc&d his sketch to him through the window, doubtful whether the words he had addressed to her were spoken in jest or earnest.

I only presumed to touch your drawing," she said, "because it was in danger." "What danger?" he inquired.

Francine pointed to the pond. "If I had not been in time to pick it up, it would have blown into the water." "Do jou think it was worth picking up

Putting that question, he looked first at the sketch—then at the view which it represented—then back again at the sketch. The corners of his mouth turned upward with a humorous expression of scorn. "Madam Nature," he said, "I beg pour pardon." With those words he composedly tore his work of art into small pieces, and scattered them out of the window. "Whata pity!"said Francine.

He joined her on the ground outside the cottage. "Why is it a Pity?" he asked. "Such a nice drawing." "It isn't a nice drawing." "You're not very polite, sir."

He looked at her—and sighed, as if he pitied so young a woman for having temper BO ready to take offense. In his flattest contradictions he always preserved the character of a politelypositive man. "Put in plain words, miss," he replied, "I have offended the predominant sense in your nature—your sense of self-esteem. You don't like to be told, even indirectly, that you knownothing of art. In these days everybody knows everything—and thinks nothing worth knowing, after all. But beware or you presume on an appearance of indifference, which is nothing but conceit in disguise. The ruling passion of civilized humanity is conceit. You may try the regard of your dearest friend in any other way, and be forgiven. Ruffle the smooth surface of your friend's self-esteem, and there will be an unacknowledged coolness between you which will last for life. Excuse me for giving you the benefit of my trumpery experience. This sort of small talk is my form of conceit. Can I be of use to you in some better Way Are you looking for one of our young ladies

Francine began to feel a certain reluctant interest in him when he spoke of "our young ladies." She asked if he belonged to the school.

The corners of his mouth turned up again. "I'm one of the masters," he said. "Are you going to belong to the school, too?"

Francine bent her head with a gravity and condescension intended to keep him at his proper distance. Far from being discouraged, he permitted his curiosity to take additional liberties. "Are you to have the misfortune of being one of my pupils?" he asked. "I don't know who you are." "You won't be much wiser when you do know. My name is Alban Morris."

Francine corrected herself. "I mean, I don't know what you teach." Alban Morris pointed to the fragments of his sketch from nature. "I am a bad artist," he said. "Some bad artists become Royal Academicians. Some take to drink. Some get a pension. And some—I am one of them— find refuge in schools. Drawing is an 'extra' at this school. Will you take my advice? Spare your good father's pocket say you don't want to learn to draw."

He was so gravely in earnest that Francine burst out laughing. "You area strange man," she said. "Wrong again, miss. I am only an unhappy man."

The furrows in his face deepened, the latent humor died out of bis eyes. He turned to the summer house window, and took up a pipe and tobacco pouch, left on the ledge. "I lost my only friend last year," he said. "Since the death of rnv dog, my pipe is the only companion I have left. Naturally, I am not allowed to enjoy the honest fellow's society in the presence of ladies. They have their own taste in perfumes. Their clothes and their letters reek with the fetid secretion of the musk-deer. The clean vegetable smell of tobacco is unendurable to them. Allow me to retire—and let me thank you for the trouble you took to save my drawing."

The tone of indifference in which he expressed his gratitude piqued Francine. She resented it by drawing her own conclusion from what he has said of the ladies and the musk-deer. "I was wrong in admiring your drawing," she said "and wrong again in thinking you a strange man. Am I wrong, for the third time, in believing that you dislike women?" "I am sorry to say you are right," Alban Morris answered gravely. "Is there not even one exception

The instant the words passed her lips, she saw that there was some secretlv sensitive feeling in him which she had hurt. His black brows gathered into a frown, his piercing eyes looked at her with angry surprise. It was over in a moment. He raised his shabby hat, and made her a bow. "There is a sore place still left in me," said he "and you have innocently hit it. Good morning."

Before she could speak again, he had turned the corner of the summerhouse, and was lost to view in a shrubbery on the westward side of the grounds.

CHAPTER V.

DISCOVERIES IX THK OARBKX. Left by herself, Miss de Sor turned back again bv way of the trees.

So far, her interview with the draw-ing-master had helped to pass the time. Some girls might have found it no easy task to arrive at a true view of the character of Alban Morris. Francine's essentially superficial observation set him down as "alittle mad," and left him there, judged and disdismissed to her own entire satisfaction.

Arriving at the lawn, she discovered Emily pacing backward and forward, with her head down and her hands behind her, deep in thought. Francine's

the form unlem they had mad* special advancer"

to her. She Btopped, and looked at Emily. It is the sad fate of little women in general to grow too fat, and to be born with short Tegs. Emily's slim, finelystrung figure spoke for itself as to the first of these misfortunes, and asserted its happy freedom from the second, if she only walked across a room. Nature had built her, from head to foot, on a skeleton scaffolding in perfect proportion. Tall or short mattere little to the result, in women, who possess the first and foremost advantage of beginning well in their bones. When they live to old age, they often astonish thoughtless men who walk behind them in the Btreet. "I give you my honor, she was as easy and upright as a young girl and when you got in front of her and looked—white hair, and seventy years of age."

Francine approached Emily, moved by a rare impulse in her nature—the impulse to be sociable. "You look out of spirits," she remarked. "Surely you don't regret leaving school

In her present mood, Emily took the opportunity (in the popular phrase) of snubbing Francine. "You have guessed wrong I do regret," she answered. "I have found in Cecilia my dearest friend at school. And school brought with it the change in my life which has helped me to bear the loss of my father. If you must know what I was thinking of just now, I was thinking of my sunt. She has not answered my last letter, and I am beginning to be afraid she is ill. If you find me in poor spirits, that is the reason." "I am very sorry," said Francine "Why? You don't know my aunt and you have only known me since veBterday afternoon. Why are you sorry?"

Francine remained silent. Without realizing it, she was beginning to feel the dominant influence that Emily exercised over the weaker natures that came in contact with her. To find herself irresistibly attracted by a stranger at anew school—an unfortunate little creature, whose destiny was to earn her own living—filled the narrow mind of Miss de Sor with perplexity. Having waited in vain for a reply, Emiiy turned away, and resumed the train of thought which her schoolfellow had interrupted.

By an association of ideas, of which she was not herself aware, she now passed from thinking of her aunt to thinkingof Miss Jethro. The interview of the previous night had dwelt on her mind at intervals, in the hours of the new day.

Acting on instinct rather than on reason, she had kept "that remarkable incident in her school life a secret from everyone. No discoveries had been made by other persons. In speaking to her staff of teachers, Miss Ladd had alluded to the affair in the most cautious terma. "Circumstances of a private nature have obliged the lady to retire from school. When we meet after the holidays, another teacher will be in her place." There, Miss Ladd's explanation had begun and ended. Inquiries addressed to the servants had led to no result. Mi«s Jethro's luggage was to be forwarded to the London terminus of the railway—and Miss Jethro herself had baffled investigation by leaving the school on foot. Emily's interest in the lost teacher was not the transitory interest of curiosity her father's mysterious friend was a person whom she honestly desired to see again. Perplexed by the dificulty of finding a means of tracing Miss Jethro, she reached the shady limit of trees, and turned to walk back again. Approaching the place at which she and Francine had met, an idea occurred to her. It was just possible that Miss Jethro might not be unknown to her aunt.

Still meditating on the cold reception that she had encountered, and feeling the influence which mastered her in spite of herself, Francine looked up, and saw Emily approaching. The sense of injury, strong as it was, failed to sustain her. For the first time in her life she was ready to forgive. Interpreting Emily's return as au implied expression of regret, she advanced with a constrained smile, and spoke first. "How are you young ladies getting on in the school room she asked, by way of renewing the conversation.

Emily's face assumed a look of surprise which said plainly, Can't you take a hint, and leave me to myself

Francine was constitutionally impenetrable to reproof of this sort her thick skin was not even tickled. "Why are you not helping them?" she went on "you, who have the clearest head among us, and take the iead in everything?"

It may be a humiliating confession to make, yet it is surely true, that we are all accessible to flattery. Different tastes appreciate different methods of burning incenBe—but the perfume is more or lesj agreeable to all varieties of noBes. Francine's method had its tranquilizing effect on Emily. She answered indulgently, "My dear, I have nothing to do with it.'r "Nothing to do with it? No prizes to win before you leave school!" "I won all the prizes, years ago." "But there are recitations. Surely you recite?"

Harmless words in themselves, pursuing the Bame course of flattery as before—but with what a diflerent result! Emily's face reddened with anger the moment they were spoken. Having already irritated Alban Morris, unlucky Francine, by a second mischievous interposition of accident, had succeeded in making Emily smart next. "Who has told you?" she burst out "I insist on knowing!" "Nobody has told me anything!" Fra ncine declared piteously.

Nobody has told yeu how I have been insulted!" "No, indeed! Oh, my dear, who could insult you!"

In a man, the sense of injury does sometimes submit to the discipline of silence. In a woman—never. Suddenly reminded of her past wrongs (by the pardonable error of a polite schoolfellow), Emily committed the startling inconsistency of appealing to the sympathies of Francine! "Would you believe it! I have been forbidden to recite—I, the head girl of the Bchool. Oh, not to-day! It hap pened a month ago—when we were all in eonsultation, making our arrangements. Miss Ladd asked me if I had decided on a piece to recite. I said, 'I have not only decided, I have learnt the piece.' 'And what may it be?' 'The dagger scene in Macbeth.' There was a howl—I can call it by no other name—a howl of indignation. A man's soliloquy, and, worse still,a murdering man's soliloquy, recited by one of Miss Ladd's young ladies, before an audience of parents and guardians! That was the tone they took with me. I was as firm as a rock. The dagger scene or nothing. The result is—nothing! An insult to Shakespeare, and an insult to me. I felt it—I feel it still. I was prepared for any sacrifice in the cause of the drama. If Miss Ladd had met me in a proper spirit, do you know what I would nave done? I would have played Macbeth in costume. Just hear me,'and judge for yourself. I begin with a dreadful vacancy in my eves, and a hollow moaning in my voice: "Is this a dagger that I see before me-?"'

Reciting with her face towards the trees, Emily started, dropped the character of Macbeth, and instantly became herself again herself, with a riling color and an angry brightening of the eyes. "Excuse me I can't trust my memory I must get the play." With that abrupt apology, she walked rapidly in the direction of the house. in some surprise, Francine turned, and looked at the trees. She discovered—in full retreat, on his side—the eccentric drawing master, Alban Morris.

Did he, too, admire the dagger scene? And was he modestly desirous of hearing it recited, without showing himself? In that case, why should Emily (whose besetting weakness was certainly not want of confidence in her own resources) leave the garden the moment ah* caught sight of him? Francine consulted her instincts. She had Just arrived at a conclusion which ex-

high opinion of herself would hav* Iitself outwardly by a malicious

ti»w hat and a whit*

«P

draw,

with

nosegay in her bosom—gnuling, and fanning herself. "If« 10 hot in the school-room, she said, "and some of the girls, poor things, are so ill-tempered at rehearsal —I have made my escape. I hope yon

gave

ot your brakfast, Mis de Sor. What you been doing here, all by yourself?" "I have been making an interesting discovery," Francine replied. "An interesting discovery in our garden? What can it be?" "The drawing-master, my dear, is in love with Emily. Perhaps she doean care about him. Or, perhaps I have been an innocent obstacle in the way of an appointment between them."

Cecilia had breakfast to her heart's content—buttered eggs. She was in such good spirits that she was inclined to be eoqnettish, even when there was no man present to fascinate. "We are not allowed to talk about love in the school," she said—and hid her face behind her fan. "Besides if it came to Miss Ladd's ears, poor Mr. Morris might loose his situation." "But isn't it true?" asked Francine, "It may be true, my dear but nobody knows. Emily hasn't breathed a word about it to any of us. And Mr. Morris keeps his own secret. Now and then we catch him looking at her —and we draw our own conclusions." "Did you meet Emily on your way here 7" "Yes, and she passed without speaking to me." "Thinking, perhaps, of Mr. Morris."

Cecilia shook her head. "Thinking, Francine, of the new life before her— and regretting, I am afraid, that she ever confided her hopes and wishes to

Did Bhe tell you last night what

me. her prospects school?" "She told me you had been very kind in helping her. I dare say I should have heard more, if I had not fallen asleep. What is she going to do "To live in a dull bouse far away in the north," Cecilia answered "with only old people in it. She will have to write and translate for a great scholar, who is studying mysterious inscriptions—hieroglyphics, I think they are called—found among the ruins of Central America. It's really no laughing matter, Francine! Emily made a joke of it, too. 'I'll take anythiug but a situation as a governess,' she said 'the children who have me to teach them would be to be pitied indeed She begged and prayed me to help her to get an honest living. What could I do? I could only write home to papa. He is a member of parliament, and everybody who wants a place seems to think he is bound to find it for them. As it happened, he had heard from an old friend of his (a certain Sir Jervis Redwood), who was in search of a secretary. Being in favor of letting the women compete for employment with the men, Sir Jervis was willing to try what he calls 'a female.' Isn't that a horrid way of speaking to us and Miss Ladd says it is ungrammatical, besides. Papa has written back to say he knew of no lady whom he could recommend. When he got my letter, speaking of Emily, he kindly wrote again. In the interval Sir Jervis had received two applications for the vacant place. They were both from old ladies and he declined to employ them." "Because they were old Francine suggested maliciously.

are when she leaves

You shall hear him give his own reasons, my dear. Papa sent me an extract from his letter. It made me rather angry and (perhapB for that reason) I think I can repeat it word for word:—'We are four old people in this house, and we don't want a fifth. Let us have a young one to cheer us. If your daughter's friend likes_ the terms, and is not encumbered with a sweetheart, I will send for her when the school breaks up at midsummer.' Coarse and selfish, isn't it? However, Emily didn't agree with me, when I showed her the extract. She accepted the place, very much to her aunt's surprise and regret, when that excellent person heard of it. Now that the time has come (though Emily won't acknowledged it), I believe she secretly shrinks, poor dear, from the prospect." "Very likely," Francine agreed— without even a pretense of sympathy. "But,, tell me, who are the four old people?" "FirBt, Sir Jervis himself—seventy last birthday. Next, his unmarried sister—nearly eighty. Next, his manservent, Mr. Rook—well, past sixty. And last, his man-servant's wife, who considers herself young, being only a little over forty. That is the household. Mrs. Rook is coming to-day to attend Emily on the journey to the North and I am not at all sure that Emily will like her." "A disagreeable woman, I suppose?" "No—not exactly that. Rather odd and flighty. The fact i», Mrs. Rook has had her troubles and perhaps they have a little unsettled her. She and her husband used to keep the village inn, close to our park. We know all about them at home. I am sure I pity these poor people. What are you looking at, Francine?"

Feeling no sort of interest in Mr. and Mrs. Rook, Francine was studying he schoolfellow's lovely face in search of defects. She had already discovered that Cecilia's eyes were placed too widely apart, and that her chin wanted size and character.

I was admiring your complexion, dear, she answered, coolly. "Well, and why do you pity the Rooks

Simple Cecilia smiled, and went on with her story. "They are obliged to go out to service in their old age, through a misfortune for which they are iu no way to blame. Their customers deserted the'

inn, and Mr. Rook became bankrupt. 1^?" The inn got what they call a bad name—in a very dreadful way. There was a murder committed in the house.

A murder?" cried Francine. "Oh, this is exciting! You provoking girl, why didn't you tell me about it before?"

I didn't think of it," said Cecilia, placidly. "Do go on! Were you at home when it happened

I was here at school." You saw the newspapers, I sup-

pose: "Miss Ladd doesn't allow us to read the newspapers. I did hear of it, however, in my lettera from home. Not that there was much in the letters. They said it was loo horrible to be described. The poor murdered gentleman—"

Francine was unaffectedly shocked. "A gentleman!" she exclaimed. '"Row dreadful!" "The poor man was a stranger in our part of the country," Cecilia resumed "and the police were puzzled about the motive for a murder. His poketbook was missing but his watch and his rings were found on the body. I remember the initials on his linen because they were the same as my mother's initials before she was married— 'J. B.' Really, Francine, that's all I know about it?' "Surely you know whether the murdrer was discovered!" "Oh, yes—of course I know that. The government offered a reward and clever people were sent from London to help the county police. Nothing came of it. The murderer has never been discovered, from that time to this." "When did it happen?" "It happened in the autumn." "The autumn of last year "No! no! Nearly four years since."

To be continutd in the Sunday JSzprm.)

Not Confined to Indiana, Boston Herald. A

Springfield clergyman Sunday said the running of railroad trains on the Sabbath is not a necessity, but is

THE TERRE HAUTE EXPRESS. SUNDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 2,1884.

ODDITIES OF THE RACE.

Eccentricities and Peculiarities.

Tie Strange Botions and Freaks of an OldTime Clergyman in England—Betting His High Water Hark-

Exchange. Rev. Mr. Hegemore, who died in England, January 1,1746, was notable as an eccentric character. He kept one servant of each sex, whom he locked up every night. His last employment in the evening was to go round his premises, let loose his dogs, and fire his gun. He lost his life in a singular manner. Going one morning to let out his servants, the dog fawned ttpon him suddenly and threw him into a deep pond. The servants heard him call out for assistance, but being locked up could not afford him any aid, in consequence of which he was drowned. He had thirty gowns and cassockB, fifty-eight dogs, eighty wigs fthough he always wore his own hair),' eighty wagons and carts, eighty plows (and used none), fifty saddles, thirty wheelbarrows, and so many walking sticks that a toyman offered his successor £S for them. He had also sixty horses and mares. 300 pickaxes, 200 spades and shovels, twentyfive ladders, and 250 razors. He died intestate and the property went to a hotel porter in Loudon.

SKNTINKLS THAT WERE USELESS. Life (London.) A few weeks ago, on the authority of a transatlantic correspondent, I narrated a story as to how General Benjamin F. Butler—whe is now the presidential candidate of the Labor-Green-1 back party in the United States—when a congreusinan procured the removal of an aged keeper of a Washington! crypt that had never existed. This' narrative seems to have aroused the war office officials of St. James' Park, who within the last fortnight haYSfSmoved a sentry who had been for nearly twenty years pacing day by day in front of a small building there, wherein a military board of investigation had once held several meetings. In Russia the late Emperior Alexander observed a sentinel always marching up and down on a grass plot. Upon inquiry he discovered that the Empress Catherine had observed an early daisy on the plot, and had remarked to one of her suite that she hoped that it would not be picked. Ever after a sentinel had bept watch and guard by night and by day over the plot.

HOW NAPOLEON MET EUGENIE. It was at a ball given by President Napoleon at the Elysee, some nights before the coup d'etat, that Mile. Eugenie met her future husband. A romance is connected with this meeting. Wishing to avoid the crowded ballroomB, Louis Napoleon, with the Duke of La Mokoswa, went into the Elysee Gardens, where he,suddenly came upon a raidiant, blushing girl. She was tying up her hair alone, opposite a glass in the conservatory. Her hair had come down during a waltz, and the crowd was too great to admit of her reaching the ladies' dressing-room. She had glided to this place, hoping to be unobserved. This little circumstance of the fall of her back hair led to her subsequent elevation to one of the proudest positions ever occupied by a woman.

CALL 'EM FOR SHORT.

WHAT 10ES HE Exchange. Mr. Tollemache, the rector of South Wytham, in England, has his children named:

Lyulph Vdwallo Odin Nestor Lyonel Foedmag Hugh Erchenevyne Saxon Esa Cromwell Orma Nevill Dysart Plantagenet Tollemache-Tollemache.

Mabel Helmingham Ethel Huntingtower Beatrice Blazonberrie Evangeline Vise de Loui de Arellane Plantagenet Toedmag Saxon Tollemache-Tolle-mache.

Lyonia Decima Veronica Eoyth Undine Cissa Hylda Rowena Ada Phyra Ursula Ysabel Blanche Lelias Dysarf Plantagenet Tollemache-Tollemache.

MEXICAN NEWSPAPER ENGLISH. El Correo de las Doce. A child has escaped death from the effectsof a bottle of laudanum, the contents of which not knowing, of course, what he did, thanks to the energetic efforts of his folks.

A string round the neck and upon a heap of ashes, the corpBe of an infant waB found by the police at Guaddalajara.

Doctor Lepooldo Ortego and Augustin Aguirre are iu way of France, where to the government has sent them to finish their career.

It is truly worth praising the admirable precision that exhibits at the stage the little girls Maria Arnefat now playiDg at the Teatro Principal.

DIDN'T HAVE MUOH PRACTICE. Merchant Traveler. A young physician moved from an eastern town to Kansas, and hung out his shingle. One day a neighbor called on him, and during the conversation inquired if he had 6ver opeued an office in the east. "Oh, yea, I had a very nice office, indeed," was the reply, with more or less pride in the tone. "Did you have much practice?" "Well, no, not exactly."

That's strange, for you seem to be a What was the mat-

we]i.p08ted

man.

"Really I don't know, but somehow my patients all seemed to die before I could practice on them very much."

JOURNALISM IN GEORGIA AND TEXAS. Vienna (Ga.) Vindicator. Anyone having a first-rate overcoat he would like to exchange for a linen duster will please call at this office. Call early, or you may lose the opportunity. Canton (Tex.) Telephone.

The editor has'been carrying brick and "morter" up a twenty-foot ladder this week. Caldwell (Tex. I Banner.

We have made out many a meal this year on bread, molasses and water, and find we can live on it And am determined to continue the Banner if our friends will keep us from starving.

HIS HIGH WATER MARK.

Texas Sittings. "What is the meaning of that red line above the fourth story of your house?" asked a stranger of a man near Pittsburg. "That is a water mark. That mark shows how high the water was during the great oveiflow about a year ago." "Impossible! If the water had been that high the whole town would have been swept away." "The "water never was that high. It only came up to the first-story window, but the cursed boys rubbed it out three or four times, so I put it up there where they can't get at it. It takes a smart man to circumvent those boys."

THK KENTUCKY BREAKFAST.

Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette. Kentucky brags of an intelligent cow that digs potatoes with ber horns and then eats them. This example of industry we commend to several gentlemen in that gallant state who would go without potatoes a long time before they would dig them, preferring all the time the famous Kentucky breakfast— two cocktails and a chew of tobacco.

WHY HS CHANGED HIS MIND.

Peek'* torn. It is very strange how quick some

done by the stockholders simply to! people will change their minda. A man .« tViat UA make money, and they are patronised by business men to have a day's time, and thereby make more money. The facts in the case do not support the statement The president of the Maine Central railroad last season expressed himself as in favor of taking off Sunday trainB, but a committee of Methodist camp meeting managers have asked him to run trains to their grounds on Sunday next year. As they charge an admission fee on that day, it looks as if Homebody else than railroad stock-

in Vermont imagined that he was spired to kill Mrs. Adams, a school teacher, and after thinking it over for some time decided to do so. He railed upon the lady *sd acquainted her with his mission, when she seized a club and knocked him down, after which she broke nearly every bone in his body. Then, he concluded he didn't want to kill her.

IT SPOILSD THK SXRKON. York 8nn. "What seems Jo be the matter?" he

holders waa thinkingof making moniy. ukad* mildly, th«y were nturnint

from church "didn't you enjoy the sermon "Enjoy the sermon?" she repeated, shortly, "and that odious Mrs. Smith sitting directly in front of me with a new fall wrap on that never coet a cent less than $125. You most think I have a very warm religious temperament."

Hata in England.

London Letter. In men's felt hats deep full crowns are in good request, with slightly narrower brims and tight roll carls. lined hats are called for more frequently, and appear to be gradually working their way aeain to the front "The Paget continues to sell rapidly in low qualities. Some London firms are pushing strong, hard, heavy hats for the winter. It is a characteristic of these goods that they will retain their shape under severe usage, but they are not comfortable wear. Mid brown is a favorite color. A lining which had a bold and striking effect comprised the portrait of a famous jockey as a tip, and the colors of a well-known sportsman at the side.

For ladies there is a decided preference for napped hats. They are produced in all colors. There is nothing new on hand in stjles. Some nice things are shown iu wool hats for girls and children, and a good trade is being done in hats napped only on the edge of the brim. Bright colors are in strong request. Scarlet is the leading shade, and moss green is also in good demand. Never was there before such rich variety or such ex( ellence in colored goods as at present. The windows of retail establishments are perfect pictures.

There is absolutely nothing to be said respecting silk hats. The fine weather has not justified the expectation of a largely increased demand for these more expensive goods. Even for Sunday wear silks are being more and more superseded by felts, among the better class of people and manufacturers of silk hats in this district find their trade a constantly diminishing quantity.

Boston's Beautiful Quadroons. Boston Courier. Ira Gray, who was familiar to the citizens of Boston many years ago, iB still in the land of the living, and was in the city not long since. Probably no one man in a thousand in Boston to-day remembers who or what Ira Gray was. Well, he was the handsomest quadroon of his day, and the most accomplished gambler ever seen in Boston. He and his brother-in-law, Coburn, kept a private place in Southac street, corner of North Russell street. It was the resort of the upper ten who had acquired a taste for gambling. There were at this time among the mixed colored population of Boston several females of remarkable beauty and volumptuous development, such aB the two Thacker girls, Mary and Maria. Mary was tall, and a dark brunette. Maria was petite, and in her day was possibly the handsomest girl in Boston, showing no trace of her colored origin. Then there were the Howard girls, whose father was for years a noted barber on Cambridge street. The Howard girls were a great attraction to certain circles, and probably had as much to do with the advance of abolition of slavery as a Boston sentiment as any direct moral principle involved. Ira Gray and Coburn intermarried in theee families and the beauty of their Burroundings gave an additional charm to their gambling circle, composed chiefily of the habitues of Beacon and Mt. Vernon streets, Buch as Bigelow Lawrence, Greenville T. Wintnrop and others whose names should be left blank. Ira Gray is now over seventy years of age and his once black locks are the color of mixed white. At one time he had a large fortune, but to-day he is probably poor. What a repertoire of fashionable society fifty years ago he could furnish.

How to Iteduce Pat.

London Truth. Dr. Schweninger, of Munich, has discovered anew mode of reducing the bulk of the human frame. It is never to eat and drink at the same time, but to let two hours intervene. He has, it is said, cured Prince Bismarck of a tendency to obesity in this way. Fat people have now their choice between four systems: 1. The original Banting, which consists of eating nothing containing starch, sugar or fat. 2. The German Banting, which allows fat but forbids sugar or starch. 3. A Munich system, which consists of being clothed in wool, and sleeping in flannel blankets instead of sheets. 4. Not eating and drinking at the same time. In Huxley's "Elements of Physiology" he divides foods into proteids, which are composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, and which consist of gluten, albumen, blood serum, fibrin, synotonin, casein, gelatin and chondrin fats, which are composed of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, and consist of all fatty matters and OIIH amyloids, which are composed of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, and consist of starch, dextrine, sugar and gum, and minerals, which consist of water and sundry alkalis, earths and metals.

A $4,000,000 Steel Pipe Contract. Charles Kellogg, formerly president of the late Kellogg Bridge works, of Buffalo, and one of the most prominent bridge builders of the United States, has just closed a contract with a New York syndicate to furnish 50,000 tons of steel pipe, to be of thirty-six, forty, and forty-eight inches diameter, delivery to begin within six months, and the contract be filled within two years. The pipes, which are patented by Mr. Kellogg both in Europe and the United States, will be manufactured by an entirely new process, hitherto unknown to makers, and for which application for patents, both American and foreign, has been made. The total amount of the contract is S4,000,000.

Liquor Drinking Among Children. Dr. Madden surprised the British Medical Association at their last meeting by showing how common among children was the habit of liquor drinking, and how many cases of juvenile alcoholism he had been called upon to treat in his own practice. The cases are found chiefly among people who send small children to public saloons for liquor. On their wav home they take draughts of the liquor, and thus are sown the seeds which may germinate into an irresistible desire for alcohol. The doctor has lately trealed a case of well-marked chronic alcoholism in a boy of 8, and one of delirium tremens in a child of the same age.

Another Way to Reduce Fat. Dr. Schweninger, of Munich, has discovered anew mode of reducing the balk of the human frame. It is never to oat and drink at the same time, bnt to let two hours intervene. He has, it is said, cured Prince Bismarck of a tendency to obesity in this way. Fat people have now their choice between four systems. 1. The original Banting, which consists of eating nothing contuning stareb, sugar or fat. 2. The German Banting, which allows fat, but forbids sugar or starch. 3. A Munich system, which consists of being clothed in wool and sleeping in flannel blankets instead of Bbeets. 4. Not eating and drinking at the same time.

Ballooning for Health. The coming health "resort, says the Boston Herald, is to be in the upper air. By and by, instead of going some thousands of miles across land or water to reach a salubrious climate, the invalid will go up in a balloon, and a lively imagination can picture a pretty little hotel, built of paper or something of that sort, anchored high above the foul odora of our lower air, where pure oxygen will minister to the news of the sick. Such a dream isn't half as startling as

a hundred which

have

bean

rwlittd with the last watery »r two

FIGHTING A WILL.

How a Millionaire's JSatate Waa Divided Among Claimants and Lawyer*. San Francisco Chronicle.

The old saying that a man should put his house in order before he dies has never received a stronger illustration than in the case of Francis Louis Alfred Pioche,the pioneer who assisted more actively than any other man in the earlv development and improvement of San Francisco. It was he who interested French capital and built whole blocks of buildings with its aid. It was he who settled Hayes Vailey and built the Market Street railroad, who built the Sacramento railroad, who opened new mining districts and built irrigation ditches. For twenty-three years Pioche was the representative man of San Francisco, now wealthy, now in monetarv straits, now paying big dividends and again trying to assuage clamoring creditors. There came the time when (on May 21, 1872) be was found shot through the head. He left a large estate, for he was not a bankrupt, and for twelve years his creditors, legatees, hie friends, claimants, attorneys, executors and commissioners have been at work dividing it. It is accomplished at last, and there is nothing left of the Pioche estate but a roomful of papers, books and sccounts. It is the old story. Pioche made a will and a good one, but not one of its provisions has been carried out in conformity with the desires of the testator.

Pioche drew this instrument two years before bis death, with the assistance of W. H. Stow and S. H. Meredith. He made John B. Felton, Levi Parsons, Joseph H. L. Pioche and Romain Bayerque his residuary legatees, and charged them to pay a number of legacies, which show the dead man to have been a warm and generous friend and a man of benevolent and patriotic instincts. The pecuniary benefits to his friends ranged from $1,000 to §20,000. To others he devised personal property, works of art and jewels. To his servants he gave each a year's wages. To the University of California he bequeathed all his paintings, etchings and engravings—a most valable collection—with $5,000 in cash, and to the French Be nevolent society he bequeathed^ 1 wo arcres of land for a hospital and $5,000 in cash. JohnB. Felton, Sam L. Theller, Gustave Dussol and Romain Bayerque were constitued executors, with Gustave Toucbaid as alternate. They were to serve without bonds and were relieved from the supervision of the probate court as far as the testator could relieve them by testamentary provisions. Almost before Pioche could be buried the trouble and contest began. The dead man had been a member of the firm of Pioche, Bayerque & Co., of which Samuel Moss, deceased, had been a partner, and the debts of the firm were still unliquidated. At the time of Pioche's death the firm was also heavily involved with local and foreign creditors, its business having been largely the importation of French goods. The value of the whole mass of property is at this day estimated at $1,000,000.

Against it there was filed at once claim upon claim, aggregating millions, even L. W. Parsons, one of the legatees, coming forward with a demand for $25,000 for counsel fees. L. L. Robinson, Pioche's confidential manager, refused to deliver a large amountof property. William Thompson laid claim to the San Miguel ranch, other people had claims upon the old and the new firm, against Pioche's private property and upon him for services. The first loss was that of the entire personal property, for as Executor Theller told a Chronicle reporter yesterday, "there was none to turn into the Probate court, because the firm's creditor's took it all." Next, the foreign creditors came with their demands, filing them all with Francois Berton, the banker. As soon as it became apparent that there was property to satisfy them the hiring of lawyers began. The foreign and the local firm's creditors, the claimants upon Pioche's privaie property, his associates in business and various enterprises all had recourse to the limbi of the law. The truth was that Pioche's affairs were in a mixed condition, while his partner, Bayerque, was traveling in Europe. Then came the lawsuits, one after another brief being filed upon brief—enough paper being covered with legal phrases to fill a fair-sized room. The probate court never handled a dollar's worth of the property, the suits—which were against the firms, and not the estate— being brought in the district courts. For nine years the litigation continued, until in the end it became cleai to all concerned that if the legal warfare were kept up not a dollar would be left, either for the creditors or the legatees.

The result was a compromise between all concerned. The entire estate was ceded to the creditors, these agreeing to pay $50,000 to each of the lour residuary legatees 50 per cent, of each of the special bequests and $100,000 to the creditors and claimants of the Samuel Moss eBtate. The agreement was carried out by a commission appointed by all interested, its labors having just been concluded. The exact amounts paid can not be learned, for the whole affair having been settled out of court, there is no record in the probate department. As far as can be learned the foreign creditors received about $300,000 and the local claimants $300,000. In the probate court the Pioche estate iB an unsettled account. "There is no estate left," explained Theller yesterday. "There is nothing to settle." The creditors took it all and satisfied the legatees." "And who satisfied the lawyers?" "I can't tell. They have loBt a gold mine, indeed. Their aggregate of fees must have been hundreds of thousands."

When the reporter in search of further information asked for the Pioche estate papers in the probate court yesterday he was taken to a largesized box, with the invitation to help himself. These papers almost exclusively refer to the appraisement and sale of real estate. The search after further information had to be abandoned in the face of such difficulties.

8TORIE8 OF A FOUNDLINGS' HOME.

What au Officer Knew ot the Babiea Tliat Are Destroyed. Chicago Herald. "When a woman leaves a baby at the oFundlings' home she doesn't want any company," said an officer, "for she creeps around after dark, pulls the bell and runs. But wheD she wants to get it again, as some of them do, she coines for an officer. Now all this business is very tough, but I would rather be around in the first case than in the last I had to go over with a young woman the other day. She wanted to find her baby. She was happy as a lark, because Bhe was able now to care for it I wanted to warn her a little, but 1 didn't know just how to begin. Finally I said: "When did you leave that baby there?" "A little more than a year ago," said she. "Then she Btarted to tell me all about it, crying and laughing all the time. When I could get in a word I Mid: "Have you ever seen it since? "No, not once." "Are yon sure it is there?" "Oh, it mast be there, of course. I would know hinS anywhere." "Well, I said no more. We went in and the girl gave the day on which she left the child. The clerk looked up the record. I sto^d behind him as he did so, for I waa afraid. Pretty soon we came to it It read: 'Aug. 22, 1883,

Boy two months old. Left at door, Named William Smith. Died Nov. 17, 1883.'

pressed the clerk's arm and

wrote on

piece of paper: 'Say noth

ing." Then I took the girl and we went through the place loosing at the babies. Saysl: "Yon said yon would know mm. Now, I want you to pick bun out." "X v« getting mighty uarvew. W«

,FF

looked at fifteen or twenty babies, and pretty soon she gave a scream and seized one poor little fellow and almost ate him up. "She got down on her knees and kissed him a thousand times, the bi tears rolling down on his face, thought she was going to smother him. When we got her quieted, I said: "Now, by the law of the state, this baby is in the keeping of this home. I must know something about you. If you are able to take care of him, and are all right otherwise, you shall have him. "I began to be afraid that I had got into an almighty big scrape. But it all came out right I found that she was married to a fine young fellow and that they were doing well. She got the baby and it's hers, aint' it Of course it is."

A MARRIAGE OUTRAGE.

Armenian Ecclesiastic* FoRt a Daughter to Wed a Brute. COXSTASTIMOPLK, October 4.—The Armenian population, both here and at Adana, are in a great state of excitement, owing to a most dastardly outrage lately perpetrated in the name of religion upon the person of a young girl living at Hadjin, a small town oi Cilicia, in Asia Minor. The circumstances well illustrate the double rule under which the Eastern Christians live—that of the Turks and of their own bishops—and shows up in dark colors the tyranny BO often exercised by the latter, which has done more to swell the ranks of the Armenian Protestants than all the exhortations of the American missionaries. A certain Miss Nareis Kirkvacbarian. belonging to a well-known family of Iladpir, was affianced at a very tender age, according to the barbarous custom of the country, to the son of a neighbor. From the age of 6 she was placed at the mission school, where her great intelligence and beauty made her a favorite, and she became a most.accomplished young lady.

Naturally enough she learned to despise the ignorance around her and to form other ideas of marriage from what she saw among her teachers, and when on leaving school, at the beginning of the present summer, she found her hand claimed by a loutish individual with the manners of a pig she st rongly objected to ratify the promise made for her by her parents when she was only 5 years old. Her tears and supplications prevailed, and, the first engagement having been broken off, later on a second was formed with a young fellow living at Adana, and they were about to be married. The family priest, however, made his appeaiance one day, declaring that he could not marry them, that the first betrothal held good, and that the young girl had better make her peace with "her discarded fiance, as the "Tchorhajees" (the elders of the community) were determined that she should take him for a husband and no other. In vain the father besought these people not to interfere. The father then telegraphed to the Catholics of Sis, the great Armenian prelate who wields papal authority over half the Armenians of Asia Minor.

This enlightened ecclesiastic, when be made his appearance, not only sided with the Tchorhajees, but arranged with them a plan for carrying out the marriage and consummating it in the teeth of all opposition. Finding the negotiations the poor girl had tied for refuge to the house of the missionary, trusting in the protection of the foreign flag. The Turkish authorities, of whom she was demanded by the Bishop and his vile crew in the name of the community, refusing to take steps in the matter, a lot of ruffians were hired to attack the place and carry her off by force. Immured, in a convent cell, she was submitted to the most rigorous treatment, with the hope of overcoming her resistance. She continued, however, to manifest her repugnance to the union, declairing that she would rather die than marry the brute who was the cause of such persecution. Spurred on by the evil counsels of the Tchorhajees and the desire to strike a blow at the influence of the American missionaries, the bishop finally decided to conduct the marriage ceremony by force. Proceeding to her prison cell with all the necessaries, accompanied by the animal, burning with 'his vile desire to possess her, and the Tchorbaiees bought with his gold, this ignoble prelate commenced to read the service. At sight of the leering crowd the poor girl fainted. Brought to again she fell at the knees of the biphop, and, with tears, implored him to desist. In vain she struggled to escape. Held fast by two of the ruffians as she lay upon the floor, for she could not be kept upon her feet, the horrid sacrilege was completed by the nuptial benediction being pronounced while she loudly protested against it. The matter did not end here. The so-called husband left with the young girl, in order that by the consummation of the marriage all opposition might cease, found the strength of the unwilling bride too much for him, and so the Tchorhajees had to come to his assistance. Some six hours afterward the poor victim, more dead than alive, was carried off to her brutal master's residence. Seeing the stir the matter has created for it has now reached the foreign embassy—the British and Franch consuls at Adana have Bent reports on the subject to Constantinople confirming all that has just been related. The father's life has even been threatened, as well as that of the girl, if an end be not put at once to the measures that are being taken to bring about an official inquiry, and Mr. Kiikvacharian has thought it necessary to fly to Adana. The key to the conduct of the bishop is no doubt to be found in the jealousy with which the progress made by the Armenian commissaries in that part of Asia Minor is regarded by the Armenian clergy.

In a Cable Car.

San fraucieco C.'lirntiii•!•. But there are villages in the interior of this state, as I said, where they do not know everything. A young lady who has lived in an inland county all her life, where no railroad has reached, and nothing more artistic than a circus has presented itself, paid her first visit to San Francisco a few weeks ago. She knew that she would necessarily coine across some verv strange and new things, and she had sealed her lips and made up her mind fully not lo be surprised at anything. She was conveyed up town, and, with her friends, got on the cable car. She did not show any interest in the novelty. She was, apparently, quite accustomed to dummies and things, conductors, engineers, and impolite passengers. All was well until the starter blew his whistle, the conductor rung the bell, and the car went off with a jerk. She clutched madly at the seat, gave a healthy interior-country scream, and quite losiug control of her ignorance, cried out:

Jerusha! Where's the team'."'

Novelties in Bead Gear. The London News says: Bonnets remain small, though evidently disposed to increase in size. Hats are immeiste. Their trimmings bavereached quite a pitch of exaggeration. It remains to be seen if English women will follow the lead of their Parisian sisters in this matter. A French lady who passed through London a few days ago was observed to have seventeen large poppies in ber brown gauze hat, quite irrespective of bugs. The blossoms were not crushed down in a heap, as poppies often are, but are being mounted on quivering stalks of twisted wire, they were well displayed, each looking over the other's shoulder as it were. The height, measuring from the lowest petal of the first poppies to the top petal of the hight, was about ten inches. A novel trimming for bonnets or hata consists of a

oMd lot bodice trioniaf*

minia

ture sunshade made of wire and cov-

"s&ft

8TAGE SILHOUETTES.

Miln, the preacher-actor, will shortly sail for Australia. Clara Morris sprained her ankle last week while alighting from a carriage.

Lillian Russell is turning the heads of Londoners as Polly in anew military comic opera.

John McCullough fully retracts the chaige of dishonesty made by him against Joseph Brooks.

Ada Gray will not begin her season till November 10, after the political excitement has subsided.

Mrs. Henrietta Chanfrau is the sole legatee of her husband, whose estate is found to be worth $160,000.

An Irish Stew threatens to usurp the place so long held by Mulligan's Picnic. It is said to be highly seasoned.

The Wooden Spoon has been quite successful at Daly's, New York, notwithstanding Ben Butler's refusal to patroniee it

Patti telegraphed that she will not come to the Bnited States this season, as Col. Mapleson has not put up her guarantee fund.

Maude Granger is winning high

E.ucille,

raise for her artistic personation of in Lynwood, at the Park Theatre, Brooklyn.

Carlotta Patti has written a book of her travels, in which the United States figures prominently. We may expect a visit from her shortly.

Since her success in London the fair and fortunate Alice Dunning haa changed her name. She now signs her photographs Allie Lingard.

Frank Mayo, stimulated by his success in Nordeck, has determined upon devoting his talents to dramatic authorship after this season.

Ellen Terry wants Maggie Mitchell to go to England, but Maggie has golden fruit enough to pluck at home,. and will not risk a sea voyage.

All of the New York theaters are complaining of poor patronage. The best of dramatic attractions will not draw against political meetings.

Janauscbek's failure is her first in America, and is attributed solely to her new play, and not to a want of appreciation of her histrionic talents.

The $1,000 reward offered for a name for anew play now being produced in New York is going begging, for those who have seen it can't tell what it is about.

Margaret Mather's Lady Macbeth is pronounced by Chicago critics to be equal in many respects to Charlotte Cushman's, and superior in some of its details.

Elliott Barnes' much advertised plav, The Artist's Daughter, is to be withdrawn from the boards of the Union Square this week, owing to the pumrctK^w lack of interest in it.

Irving is not meeting'with as enthusiastic a reception at Boston as on the occasion of his first visit, and blemishes in his acting that were previously overlooked are now remorselessly exposed to the public view.

Sarah Bernhardt is writing a comic novel. None of the American jokes about her bony appearance will find a lodgment within it covers, and its success is therefore almost assured.

Mr. McKee Rankin is organizing a stock company to place in the Third Avenue theatre, where he will play all the sensational plays of the dav. He is already engaging some of tne best people to be obtained in the dramatic profession.

A Clothing Clerk's Ingenious Fraud. Now York Commercial Advertiser. "Hello, Al, just getting across?" said a substantial-looking gentleman this morning to a well-dreased lad who had stepped from the Jersey ferry and the result of this little address was that the gentlemanly-looking person and the well-dressed young man went together to Rogers, Peet & Co.'s dry goods store on Broadway. The former was Detective Sergeant Ghegan, of the Central office, and the latter was Albert W. Norris, of 264 Sixth street, Jersey City, who has beem employed for ten months as a clerk by Rogers, Peet & Co. at a weekly salary of $7. Albert had devised a system of increasing his salary without the consent of his employers. He operated in cases of exchange. If a customer cntne to return an overcoat or a suit, or nny other ar-j, tide, Albert would give him so... thing of a superior quality on the ment of the difference. For exa ."'Buti? he would arrange with the purci' for an exchange necessitating the ment of an additional margin of $it He then would go to the cashier's desk with an overcoat or a suit as the case might be, representing a smaller difference, or none at all. Then he would take this low-priced garment back to his counter, and by a little legerdemain, quickly get it out of the way ana pack up the more expensive article for which the larger amount had been paid. In this way he received more money from the customer than he handed in at the cashier's desk. On Saturday last his manipulations netted $32. For some time he has been so liberal in his expenditures as to excite the surprise and the envy of his less-favored colleagues, He was in the habit of going to the theaters and fashionable centers of amusement, and was not stingy about taking a friend with him and bearing all the expense. One of these friends, named James Crane, holds a similar position in the establishment at a similar salary. He made a confident of Crane, who betrayed him Jo Mr. Martin, the principal partner in the firm. The prisoner is well connected. Albert was taken before Justice O'Reilly at Jefferson Market Court this morning and held for trial, bail being fixed at $500.

A New Anaesthetic.

Albany Journal. Recently a student of the University of Heidelberg, in Germany, while experimenting with cocoa, made a tincture of hydro-chlorate of cocoaine. He accidentally discovered that when the tincture was applied to the eye it operated as a complete anasthetic. This was a great discovery in science and was soon telegraphed qll over the world. It has been known in this country about ten days. Yesterday, at a clinic in Troy, Dr. Cyrus S. Merrill, of Albany, experimented with it Ife found it a complete success. When three or four drops were put in an eye the eye lost all sensitiveness, could be handled with forceps and cut or cleaned without the slighest pain. The doctor is enthusiastic over the new discovery. He will make an exhaustive series of experiments to determine not only for what class of operations it can be used, but also in what diseased condition it will prove beneficial.

Chinese Prejudice Against Europeana. Boston Advertiser.

S3 che-il.., °LS trimmed with velvet leaves and flow

A Chinese pamphlet against Europeans has been published in Hong Kong. It asserts that the Europeans &re not human beings at all, but wild animals descended from monkeys. They worship neither the heavens nor the earth. They do not honor their parents nor ancestors. They come into China pretending to preach a religion which they do not practice themselves, and forcibly introduce vice and crime into that country. Some clever Cbinaman must have printed and translated some of the popular literature of I San Francisco, merely turning it abou5 a little. 1

A New Fruit.

A Los Angeles, Cal., gentleman has brought from Guatemala a plant called^—.. the "melon shrub," which grows to the height of about three feet It is an evergeen with a beautiful purple end white (flower, and bears a fruit shaped liked a rifled-cannon shell, about four inches long, by from two to three '1 1 J..

aoath* from tht M**