Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 February 1885 — Page 3

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XI

WF^F—— DRAWN FROM POETIC SPRINGS

Oh, Had I Known*

If I had thoQght bo soon she would have died, He said, I had been tenderer in my speech, I had a moment-lingered at her side,

And held her ere she passed beyond my reach, If I had thought so soon she would have died.

That day Bhe looked np wifh her startled eyes, take some hart creature where the woods are deep With kisses I had etiljed those breaking sighs,

With kisses closed those eyelids into sleep, That day she looked up with her startled eyes.

Oh, had I known she would have died so soon, Love had not wasted on a barren land, horo like those rivers tinder torrid noon

Lost on tie desert, poured out on the sand— X)h, had I known she would have died so vi'-'- eoon! —[Harriet PreeeottSpofiord.

The Frosted Pane.

She stood and frrote, "I do not love She stood and thought—perhaps the same Yet whilo her hand the sentence wove

Her blushes went and came. Her breath came sweet and warm and fell Upon the hopeless words that swept !Jhe glamour from tinolden spell..

That o'er my boyhood crept., I looked, arid lol the hopeless words, Cold Pi the frost whereon they lay, That pierced my startled heart like swords.

Themselves were swept away. "And shall those words remain effaced}" I asked. "I cannot write again The words my hand alone has traced iUpon tho frosted pane." '.'J —f New Orleans Times-Democrat.

A ttacbelot's Neckties.J

They lie on my table, rad, purple and gtfeen In fact, all tho colors that ever wort seen. Borne bright as a daisy, some crumpled and soiled, Like my desolate beep*, of their freshness despoiled. I find them in cupboards, noovcs, I .find tiem in drawers, in boxes and books.' Tho wrfeks of post fashion, they gleam on my sight, Each oqe a reminder of hours had and bright. Ah! well I remember, poor ribbon of bine, How my heart bound with hope as 1 proudly donned yon. How two lovely eyes on your bright wings were cast. 'Xwaa a glance, of delight, bat 'tis over and past.. And, royal tie of purple aqd snowy tie of red, Boneath yon has nestled a fair, sunny head, Whoso tresses of gold on«e charm of my life, I Now shines on the head of another man's wife.

turners (and

nil your folds of satin, oh, dainty f.ie, white, Wero woven exprossly for my wedding-night. And you, like tho othora, have been laid aside. And still I am waiting—but where is my bride!

I'll gather yon n!l ir. gay, colored heap, And: "'t6 the fire you shall go with a sweep! Likt 'V dreams, I am sure you will never

W) back

Andh

li&Wtorth my neckties shall only be blaek.

Growing Old.' V§4i

parting with tho-roundness Of tho smoothly moulded cheek? igfs it losing from tlie dimples

Ha!ftho flashing joy thoy speak ,1» it fmlli-.g of tlo lnstre FroiTi tho wavy golden, hair? '^igls it finding-on the forehead tlraven lines of thought and care?

Tho belladonna Silken dress .". And gore

Bhe

Si

tig

'Is it dropping—as the rose-leaves r/'|| ••4 Drop their sweetness, over-blown—

s"

•jMoaseliokl namos that once were dearor, 0 More familiar than our own •0lb it meeting on the pathway

Faces strange and glances cold. While the soul with moan and shiver Whispers sadly, "Growing old?"

"On the gradual sloping pathway, As tho passing years decline, Gtai:n*

w-i Hive-light,

falling

I-iiv from uppor heights divine f.ii !l. sli-ulo.v a fL-om that brightness V. i.p(hJu ftiy in their fold, .tWl '1 unlo ujotitd whiteness -'f VVilu, way ot "growing old." J?* —[Margaret Bangster.

The Drug Clert'j Wooing. "To nitre chamomile,'' low Bighed The drug clerk to Miss Laura, "To either win you for qiy brido

Or hair-dye in my gore, ah!"

knew was sloppy j!

"Oh? if you camphor for that, I guess," Bhe oried, "do ask my poppy."

i-vi^Thou ljartshorn npar and yet so far,"1"" .»*' Groaned the young manna paling. 'Godd-by! I'm morphine search of pa,

Though licorice his fail ing." /.

fo^ nrtust gum gedda a kiss '^she cried, And put her arms around opium not bold," she cried, "Now go to'pa and sound him."

tjC|.

•'I will and ask cologne,"-he said,, "And if elixir lover, Xou'li potash shroud upon the dead «J|®i

Young man you will discover."

Bhe castor oil black eyes on his— "1 "I willi myrrh love—I swear it: „,j If disappointment ends this biz 73

I am mader-nough to wear it."f

a .^'Cummin' and citrate down," pa cried. Unto tho youth enamored. '"Mtty I take chloroform my bride?

Tho young man meekly stammered

"'Take Laura? Think her Paris green Because he took her uothor? No! sonny. Take a pill seren—

I'll give the girl another." t. —H. C. Dodge.

"I SAY NO:

Or,THE LOVE LETTER ANSWERED.

By WILKtU COLLINS.

«llOdJf 'f'hj'J THIRD- THE SPELL?

CHAPTER XXXIV.W^ TRE DARK: j|^^g

A week later, Albin Morns niippened to be in Miss Ladd's study, with a report to make on the subjcct of his drawingclass. Mss. Ellmother interrupted them for a moment. She entered the room to return a book which Francine had borrowed that morning. "Has Miss de Sor done with it already?" Miss Ladd asked. "She won't read it, ma'am. She says the leaves smell of tobacco smoke.

Miss Ladd turned to Alban, and shook her head with an air of good-humored reproof. "I know who has been reading that book last!" she said.

Alban pleaded guilty by a look. He was the only masted in the school who smoked. As Mrs. Ellmother passed him on her way out, he noticed the signs of suffering in her wasted face. "That woman is supply in a bad state of health," he said. "Has she seen the doctor?,' I* ryv "She flatly refuses to consult the doctor," Miss Ladd replied. "If she was a stranger, I should meet the difficulty by telling Miss de Sor (whose servant she is) that Mrs. Ellmother must be sent hom~.

Mrs. Ellmother's irritable objection to being told (even indirectly) that she looked ill, expressed itself roughly in reply: "I" dare say you mean well, sir— but I don't see how it matters to you whether' the place agrees with me or not."

N

"Wait a minute," Alban answered good humoredly^ ."I am not quite a stranger to vou." '^How do. you mak« that -out, if you please?" "I know a young, lady who has a sincere regard for .you." "You doi^t mean Miss Emily?' »Ye$, I do. I respect and aaipire Miss nrijv.e and 1 Iv.ive tried, in Biy poor way,

Re'of some little *cyAv%)~lier." k-

1

—ii face was inJlesse to forgive me,

siting my ihanncre," sh'esiud^

North country woman. He shock habds with her. You're'®ne of the right sort," she said "there are not many of them in this house."

Was she alluding to Francine? Alban tried to make the discovery. Pelite circumlocutiin would be evidently thrown away on Mrs. Elllnother. "Is your young mistress one of the right sort?" he asked, bluntly.

The old servant's answer was observed by a frowning look, followed by a plain question. "Do you say that, sir, because you like my young mistress?" "No." "Please to shake hands .again She said it-^took his hand with a sudden grip that Bpoke for itself—and walkek away.

Here was an exhibition of character which Alban was the man to appreciate. "If I had been an old woman," he thougt, in his dryly humorous- way, "I believe I should have been like Mrs. Ellmother. We might hove talked of Emily, if she had not left me in such a hurry. When shall I see ber again?"

He was destined to see her again that night, under circumstances which he remembered ta the end of his life.

The .rules of Netherwoods, in summer time, recalled the young ladies from their evening's recreation the grounds at nine o'clock. After that hour Alban was free to smoke his. pipe, and to linger among trees and flower-Deds before he returned to his hot little rooms ih the village. As a relief to the drudgery of teaching the young ladies, he had been using his pencil, when the day's lessons Were over, for his own amusement. It was past ten o'clock before he lit his pipe, and began walking slowly to and fro on the path which led to the summer-hoU&, at the southern limit of the grounds.

In the perfect stillness of tne night, the clock of the village church was distinctly audible, striking the hours and the quarters. The moon had not risen but the mysterious glimmer of' starlight trembled on the large open space between Jhe trees and the house.

Alban paused, admiring with an artist's eye tne effect of light, so faintly and delicately beautiful, on the broad expanse oi the lawn. "Does the man live who could paint that?" he osked himself. His memory recalled" the works of the greatest of all landscape painters—the English artiste of fifty" years since. While recollections of many a noble picture were passing through his nynd, he id by tne sudden appearance of woman on the terrace steps.

was startled by a bare-headed

She hurried down to the lawn, staggering as she ran—stopped, and looked back at the house—hastened onward toward the trees—stopped again, looking backward and forward, uncertain which way to turn next—and' then advanced once more. He could now hear her heavily gasping for breath. As she came nearer, the starlight showed a panic-stricken face—the face of Mrs. Ellmother.

Alban ran to- meet her. She dropped on the grass before he could cross the short distance which separated them. As he raised her in his arms, she looked at him wildly, and murmured and muttered in the vain attempt to speak. "Look at me again," he said. "Don't you remember the mam who had some talk with you to-dav She still stared at him vacantly. He tried again: "Don't you remember Mit Emily's friend

As the name passed his lips, her mind in some degree recovered its balance. "Yes," Fhe said "Emily's friend -I'm glad I have met with Emily's friend." She caught at Alban's arm—starting, as il her her own words had alarmed her "What am I talking about? Did I say 'Emily'? A servant ought to say 'Miss Emily.' My head swims. Am I going mad

Alban led her to "one of the. garden chairs. "You're only a little frightened," he said. "Rest and compose yourself."

She looked over her shoulder toward the house. "Not here! I've run away from a she-devil I want to be out of sight. Further away, mister—I don't know your name. Tell me your name I won't trust'you unless you tell me your name!" "Hush! hush! Call me Alban." "I never heard of such a name I won't trust you." "You won't trust your friend, and Emily's friend? You don't mean that, I'm sure. Call me by any other name—call me'Morris.'-" "Morris!" she repeated. "Ah, I've heard of people called 'Morris.' Look back! Your eyes are young- do you see her on the terrace!" "There isn't a living soiil to be seen anywhere."

With one hand he raised her as he spoke, and with the other he took up the chair. In a minute more they were out of sight of the house. He seated her so that she could rest her head against the trunk of a tree. "Wha{ a good fellow!" the poor old creature said, admiring him "he knows how my head pains me. Don't stand up! You're a tall man. She might see you."

Ls,)"She

can see nothing. Look at the

iffees behind us. Even the starlight doesn't get through them." Mrs. Ellmother was not satisfied yet. "You take it coolly," she said. "Do you know who saw us together in the passage to-day? You good Morris, she saw us— she did. Wretch I Cruel, cunning, shameless wretch!"

In the shadows that were round them, Alban could just see that she was shaking her clinched fists in the air. He made another Attempt to control her. "Don't excite yourself! If she comes into the garden, she might hear you."

The appeal to-her fears had its effect. "That's true," she said', in lowered tones. Sudden distrust of him seized her the next moment. "Who told me I was excited?" 8he burst out. "It's yon who are excited. Deny it if you dare! I begin to suspect you, Mr. Morris I don't like your conduct. What has become of your pipe? I saw yon put your pipe in your coat pocket. You did it when you set me down among the trees where she could see me! Yon are in league with her—she is coming to meet you here—you know she doesn't like tobacco smoke. Are you two going to put me in the madhouse?"

She started to her feet. It occurred to Alban that the speediest way of pacifying her might be by means of the pipe. Mere words would exercise no persuasive influence ovei that bewildered mind. Instant action of some kind would be far more likely to have the right effect. He put his pipe and his tobacco pouch into her hands, and so mastered her attention before he spoke. "Do you know how to fill a man's pipe for him?" he asked. "Haven't I filled mv husband's pipe hundreds of times?'' she answered,.

sharply. "Very well. Now do it for me." She took her chair again instantly, and filled the»pipe. He lighted it, and seated himself on the grass, quietly smoking. "Do you think I am in league with her now?'" he asked, purposely- adopting the rough tone of a man in her own rank of if

She answered him as she might have answered her husband in the days of her unhappy marriage. rd at 'olifSon't gir3 at me—there's a good

But I cannot act in Uiat peremptofy fl^T'if I've been off my head for a

manner, toward a person in "whom Emilyis interested." From- that momeni, Mrs. Ellmother became a person in whom Alban was interested Later in the *y he met her in one of the lower .corridors of the house,- and spoke to her. "I'm afraid the air of this'place doesn't agree with you," he said.

minute or two, please not to notice me. It's cool and quiet here," the woman said gratefully. "Bless God for the darkness Uiere's something comforting in the darkness—along with a good man like you. Give me a word «f advice. You are my friend in need. What am I to do? I daren't go back to the house?"

She was quiet enough now to s»yjgest the hope that she might be ablr .{gi\ Alban somg^nformation. "v you with Miss tfc^Sor," he asked, "beiOre you came out here? What did she do to frighten yon?" "There was no answer Mrs. Ellmother had abruptly rllen once more. "Hush!" she whispered. "Don't I hear somebody

ban. at once went back along the winding path which they had followed. No creature was viable in the gardens or on the terrace. On retnrning, he found it impossible to use his eyes to any gpod irpoee in the obscurity among the trees, waited ^while, listening intently. No sound was audible there was? not even air enough to stir the leaves. he returoedrto thc place that he had left, the silence vfas -of the distant dir. three quarters past

broken by the chimes clock striking the

body, she was at the mercy of any false alarm which might be raised by her own fears. He sat down by her again— opened his match-lux to relight the pi —and changed his mind. Mrs._ mother had unconsciously warned him to be cautious.

For the first time, he thought it likely that the heat in the house might induce some of the inmates to try the cooler atmosphere in the gtotinds. If this happened, and if he continued to smoke, curiosity might tempt thein to follow the scent of tobacco hanging on the stagnant air. "Is there nobody near us?" Mm. Ellmother asked. "Are you sure?" "Quite sure. Now tell me—did you really mean it, when you said just nowthat yCu wanted my advice?" "Of course I mean it! Who else have I got to help me?" "I am ready and willing to help you— but I can't do it unless I know first what has passed between you and Miss de Sor. Will you trust me?" "I will." "May I depend on you?" "I give you my promise—you may depend on that."

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE TREACERY OF THE PIPE. There was a pause. It was too dark to see in Mrs. Ellmother's face why she was hesitating. Surprised by her silence, Alban asked if she was beginning already to repent of her promise. "It isn't that," she said. "It's my poor mind. I'm all abroad—I don't know what to say first." "Let me try if I can help you. You have been with Miss de Sor to-night. Did she ask you stay with her, when you went into her room 'That's it! She rang for me, to see how I was getting on with my needlewok—and she was what I call hearty, for the first time since I have been in her sevice. I didn't think badly of her, when she first talked of engaging me and I've had reason to repent of my opinion ever since Oh, she showed the cloven foot to-night! 'Sit down,' she says' 'I've nothing to read, and I hate work let's have a little chat.' She's got a glib tongue of her own. All I could do was to say a word now and then^to keep her going. She talked and talked till it was time to light the lamp. She was particular in. telling me to put the shade oyer.it. We were half in the dark, and half in the light. She trapped me (Lord knows how!) into talking about foreign parts I mean the place she lived in before they sent her to England. Have you heard that she comes from the West Indies?" "Yes I have heard that. Go on." "Wait a bit, sir. There's something, by your leave, that I want to know, Do you believe in witchcraft "Of course not! Did Miss de Sor put that question to you?"_ "She did." "And how did you answer V" "Neither in one way nor the other. I'm in two minds about that matter of witchcraft. When I was a girl, there was an old woman in our village who was a sort of show. People came to see her from all the country round—gentlefolks among them. It was her great age that made her famous. More than a hundred years old, sir One of our neighbors didn't believe in her age, and she heard of it. She cast a spell on his flock—I tell you she sent a plague on his sheep, the plague of the bots. The whole flock died I remember it well. Some said the sheep would have had the bots anyhow. Some said it was the spell. Which of them was right? How am I to settle it?" "Did you mention this to Miss de S "I was obliged to mention it. Didn't I tell yon, just now, that I can't make up' my mind about witchcraft? 'You don seem to know whether you believe or disbelieve,' she says. It made me look like a fool. I told her my reasons, and then I was obliged to give them." "And what did she do then?" "She said, 'I've got a better story of witchcraft than yours.' And she opened a little book, with a lot of writing in it, and began to read. Her story made my flesh creep. It turns me cold, sir, when I think of it now."

He heard her moaning ar ft shuddering. Strongly as his interest was excited, there was a compassionate reluctance in him to ask her to go on. His merciful scruples proved to be needless. The fascination of beauty it is possible to resist. The fascination of horror fastens its fearful hold on us, struggle against it as we may. Mrs. Ellmother repeated what she had heard, in spite of herself. "It happened in the West Indies," she said,"and the writing of a woman-slave was the writing in the little book. The slave wrote about her mother. Her motlier was a black—a witch in her country. There was a forest in her own country. The devil taught her withcraft in the forest. The serpents and the wild beasts were afraid to touch her. She lived without eating. She was sold a slave, and sent to the island—an island in the West Indies. An old man lived there—the wickedest man of them all. He filled the black witch with devilish knowledge. She learnt to make the image of wax. The image of wax cast spells. You put pins in the image of wax. At every pin you put, the person under the spell gets nearer and nearer to death. There was a poor black in the island he offended the witch. She made his image in wax she cast spells on him. He couldn't sleep he couldn't eat he was such a coward that common noises frightened him. Like me! Oh! God, like me!" "Wait a little," Alban interposed. "You are exciting yourself again—wait" "You're wrong, sir! You think it ended when she finished her story, and shut up her book there's worse to come than anything. you've heard yet. I don't know what I did to oflend lies. She looked at me and spoke to me as if I was the dirt under her feet. 'If you're too stupid tounderstand what I have been reading,' she says, 'get up and go to the glass. Look at yourf elf, and remember what happened to the slave who was under the spell. You're getting paler and paler, and thinner and thinner Tou're pining away just as he did. Shall I tell you why She snatched off the shade from the lamp, and put her hand under the table, and brought out an image of wax. My image! She pointed to three pins in it. 'One,' she says, 'for no sleep. One for no appetite. One for broken nerves.' I asked her what I had done to make such a bitter enemy of her. She says, 'Remember what I asked of you when we talked of you being my servant. Choose which you will do? Die by inches'—(I swear she said it, as I hope to be saved)—'die by inches, or tell me—'"

There—in the full frenzy of the agitatliat possessed her—there, Mrs. Elliddenly st

mother suddenly stopped. Alban's first impression was that she might have fainted. He looked closer, and could see her shadowy figure seated in the Chair. He asked if she was ill. No. "Then why don't you go onb" "I have done,r ohe answered. "Do yovl think you can put me off?" he rejoined, sternly, "with such an excuse as that? What did Miss de Sor ask you to teH her? You promised to trust me. Be as ^ood as your word."

In the days of her health and strength, she would have set him at defiance. _A.11 she could now was to appeal to his mercy. "Make some allowance for me," she •aid. "I have been terrib.y upset What has become of my courage? What has broken me down in this way Spare me, sir."

He refused .to listen. "This vile attempt to practice on your fears may be repeated," he reminded her, "More base vantage may be taken of the netvous derangement from which you are suffering in the climate of this place. Yon little know me, if you think I will allow that to go on."

She made a last effort to plead with him. "Oh, sir, is this behaving like the good kind man I thought you were?" Yon say you are Miss Emily's friend. Don't pK-ss me —for Miss Emily'* sake!" "Emily!" Alban exclaimed. "Is she concerned in this?"

There was a change to tenderness in hk -TtHce-^grhich persuaded Mrs. Ellmother that she haduiu^j to the weak side of him. Her oi nun. Her. one ik»u 1 story to strengthen 'the \WTt

"I tell you, sir, Miss Emily must nercr know it to her dying day!" ., The first suspicion of the truth crossed Alban's mind. .} And Emily might have known it, he 'added, "if Miss de Sor had forced yon into telling what

she

wanted^ to find out?

You must have said something to arouse her curiosity." "Never!" .. "Are you sure' yen didn't betray yourself when she. showed the image and threatened you?" "I would have died first!" The reply had hardly escaped her before she regretted it. "What makes you want to be so sure about it?" she said. "It looks as if you knew—" "I do know." "What!"

The kindest thing that he could do^ now was to speak

out

"Your secret is no

secret to me," he said. Rage and fear shook her together. For the moment, she was like the Mrs. Ellmother of former days. "You lie!" she cried. "I speak the truth." "I won't believe you! I daren't believe you!" "Listen to me. In Emily's interest listen to me. I have read of the murder of Zetland—" "That's nothing. The man was a namesake of her father." 'The man was her father himself.

I love her as I love my better. Are you calmer

as it is to you. own life—and now f'

He heard her crying it was the best relief that could come to her. After waiting awhile to lot the tears have their way, he helped her to rise. There was no more to be said now. The one thing to do was to take her back to the house. "I can give you a word of advice," he said, "before we part for the night. You must leave Miss de Sor's service at once. Your health will be sufficient exenre. Give her warning immediately."

Mrs. Ellmother hung back when he offered her his arm. The bare prospect of seeing Francinc again was revolting to her. On Alban's assurance that the notice to leave could be given in writing, she made no further resistance.- The village clock struck eleven as they ascended the terrace steps.

A minute later another person left the grounds by the path which led to the house. Alban's precaution had been taken too late. The smell of tobacco smoke had guided Francine when she was at a loss which way to turn next in search of Mrs. Ellmother. For tbe last quarter of an hour she had been listening, hidden among the trees. [To be continued in the Sunday Express.]

0 Fresh Fashion Freaks, New clasps, much used for cloaks and dresses, exhibit beads in curiously carved and stained wood. ^Buttons are very small, some forming sinall, round, jewel-like objects^ others curious lit men of antique heads.

In Paris, fashion's latest freak is a fancy ball, in which each lady is dressed as a flower—violets, lilies, roses, bluebells and marigolds, What a lovely bouquet.

Broad heavy galloons are very popular trimmings. Plaited skirts have often one, two or even three rows of galloon, sometimes three inches wide, around tbe bottom a short distance apart.

Japanese crape, brocade with floral patterns in silk or chenille, is the most fashionable material of the season for evening and ball dresses it reqires a silk dress under it. Lace is used in profusion for trimmings.

The fashion of wearing woolen lace with ball dresses is a very novel one. Hitherto woolen lace has been used only for daytime toilets, but there is such a furor for it this winter that from town and indoor costume it has now passed to evening attire. It is made in all shades of color and in-all kinds of beautiful designs it is also to be had in all sizes and is employed for trimming both woolen and silk dressy-

High colors. and large patterns have gone out, it is said, in Paris and London, and quiet grays and browns have taken their place. Gray tulle is even employed for evening wear, but there are still dull shades of red to be seen, and delicate combinations of pink and blue, and pink, cream and pale gold. This last is very much newer and more distinguished than white and gold, whfaih has held a place, more or less, as a combination for evening wear in dresses and opera cloaks for the past twenty years.

The uses of the Japanese umbrellas seem very nearly inexhaustible. Just now the whim is to cut away a portion of the paper covering and to fill in the space with narrow, bright-colored satin ribbons woven in and out of the ribs. The umbrellas are then used as plagues, or converted into baskets or wall pockets One of the prettiest ways of arranging Christmas cards is to cut off the stick and invert a medium-sized umbrelln, and fasten it over a table or picture, and slip the pretty cards under the ribs that are too slender to hide any portion of the cards, and yet hold them securely in place.

A Parisian winter" costume for a debutante is of French blue velvet. The short underskirt is trimmed close to the edge with-a narrow band of white fur. The slightly draped overdress of the same lias a tiny piping of white plush around'the edges. A very short, close-fit-ting jacket is lined with white plush and has a narrow white fur collar and cuffs. The little blue velvet turban has whitj marabout feathers over the face, with a small cluster of pink rosebuds placed high in front. A little white fur satchelmuff, lined with pale pink, and delicate gray uadressed kid gloves, complete the costume.

Some very beautiful dresses have been ordered for the approaching inauguration ceremonies at Washington. One of these is a combination of thick cream-colored satin w-ith cream-doiored embossed velvet, the figure in the velvet outlined with pearl embroidery. The ornaments are groups oi ostrich tips, and the trimming beautiful cream lace embroidered with seed pearls. A ball dress for a young Southern lady is of tulle, powdered with chenille dots, over satin, and trimmed with chenille balls, which have a pretty effect. The bodice is low and made of the satin with folds of the tulle for trim, ming, which are outlined with the pendants of chenille and form the sleeves, which are mere straps. The folds also follow the curve of the under part of the arm, which is a novel effect.

Just now fancy dress balls are in great favor. A quaint idea is for each lady to represent some bird. A striking dress worn at one of these gatherings in Paris last week was the peacock costume. It was both gorgeous and original. A demitrain of peacock-coiored silk, the bottom finished with a plaiting, the back entirely covered with peacock feathers, the sides ornamented with panels, of peacock-col-ored plush embroidered in beads to match the shaded feathers, the front bordered with a band of the feathers, above which was draped an apron embroidered in the beads to match the panels and edged with drooping feathers pointed basque of peacock-col-ored plush, the neck edged with the eyes of the feathers epaulets formed of feathers fastened with emerald ornaments over the short sleeves necklace of a velvet band, to which the eyes of tbe peacock feathers were attached peacock feather fan: coiffure ornamented with the head feathers of the -bird shoes of peacock-col-ored satin, embroidered on toes with tbe eyes of the feathers long, cream-colored gloves, with a band of the eyes of the peacock feathers at the top emerald jewelry

The Valet Defined.

Atlanta Constitution. A great many high-toned New YOrkere have valets. A valet is a man employed to put another man to bed wheh the other man can't 'get there himself. In perform that duty man to

THE EXFBESS, TEKRE HAUTE, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1885.

A CURIOUS STORY.

THE REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE OP A CINCINNATI HAN.,

A Coffin Maker Who Was Always Warnfed Sup' rn atnrftUy when His Servi-. cea Wore Needed.

Cincinnati Post The writer was sitting* a few days ago in the office of the Hotel Martin, Lancaster, O., conversing with an old resident of that city on various topics relating to the past history of the place, when he inquired: "Did you ever hear the story*of Jacob Humbarger, the haunted coffin maker "Never. Is it out of the ordinary?" "Yes, it is.a curious story, and I hestitate about teiling it, for fear people will think I am trying to humbug them with a ghost story "I'll accept it as gospel." "As I have already remarked, it is a strange storyr and had the efl'ect of malcrnatural manifesta-

the thing occurred which I am about to

Keep*'you^lt" Th^ irnofli^glo be (relate, a£d they made^such a vivid mialarmed about. I know that Emily is ignorant of the horrid death that her father died. I know that you and your late mistress have kept the discovery from her to this day. I know the love and pity which plead your excuse for deceiving her, and the circumstanoes that favored the deception. My good creature, Emilys peace oi mind is as sacred to me

pression on my mind that they are as fresh in my recollection as they were over a half century® iigo. "Jacob Humbarger was of Pennsylvania Dutch stock, and came here from Lancaster, Pa., thre quarters Of, a century ago. "When I first knew him this city was a village with, less than a thousand population. He was»a cabinet -maker, and made the rough and substantial furniture in vogue among tbe pioneers whose sons have since Been congressmen, governors, senators, cabinet ministers and generals. •'He was frugal and industrious, and left some property behind him. In addition to making furniture he made, when occasion demanded it, coffins for the people of all this region. There were no hearses and splendid undertaking establisliments in those days. The dead were placed in plain, homemade coffins and carried to the little graveyards in farm wagons, or by hand when the distance was not too great, except in rare instances, when there was a little more show and ostentation, arid an old-fashioned carriage was used in place of the modern hearse. "People would come from a distance to Humbarger's shop with the dimensions of a coffin and wait nntil it was finished, and then take it a home in & wagon or on horseback, as the case might be. "One night, or rather one morning, an hour or two before daylight, Humbarger arose, leaving his wife in bed,-proceeded to his shop, and lighting a tallow candle set to work. When Mrs. Humbarger arose at the usual hour she was surprised to hear Jacob hammering away in his shop, and supposing that he had a job that must needs be finished early in the day, set about preparing breakfast, and when the meal was ready she called her husband: "Vail, Chacob, vy for you go of vork so gwick the day ?'inquired fiau Humbarger. 'Vy, Katarine, did you not hear dot man who comes of der coffin by dree o'clock?' 'Nein, nein, Chacob, you make foolish of me.'_ 'I do not make foolish Katrine dot man come of dree o'clock on der door an' say I must haf dot coffin of 10 o'clock, an' he gif me the measure on dot vorkbencli, and I go of vork und haf him now haf mate.' "Katrina was incredulous, and Jacob was firm in his asseverations. Certain it was-thathe had a coffin well under way, and by 10 o'clock it was finished and Jacob was waiting for his customer while he smoked a pipe. "Between 10 and 11 o'clock a gentleman appeared at the shop door, and Humbarger greeted him with: "'You was a leedle late, mine frent.' 'Not very late, considering that I have ridden from near Somerset since half-past seven.' 'Vy for did yon go back home after you vake me ub 'I didn't I have just got to town.' 'But you come of mine door last nids, und call "me oud of mine ped to make dis coffin.' "Oh, no, my friend, but it looks as though it would suit my purpose. Let me measure it'

The stranger measured it and was just the size of a coffin he had been sent to procure, and lie asked Humbarger^ if he could have it to take back with him immediately. "Dot vas your coffin any way, since you order him und leaf der measure,' promptly responded Mr. Humbarger. "The price of the coffin was agreed upon, it was paid for, and the farmer took.it away his wa^on. Jacob related the circumstances to his wife, who mischievously said: 'I told you, Chacob, dot no vone voke you up in der nide. You haf been haunted.' 'Humbarger, however, insisted that he had been called out of nis house during the night, and that, he readily recognized the man who subsequently got the coffin and pretended that he had not ordered

"Of course the story soon circulated throughout the village, and the gossips added to it. A month later Humbarger had another nocturnal visit, and a child's coffin was ordered, to be finished in the afternoon. Later in the day a farmer living a few miles west of town called on Humbarger to secure his services, one of his children having died. "Oh, yes I know it You come of der nide and told me, und mark der size oij dss vork bench.' "The farmer protested otherwise, but as the coffin was of the exact measurement desired, he took it home. Then Mr. Humbarger began to have an indefinable fear that he was liauntfed. "The thing was of regular recurrence, and'almost every one who came to Humbarger for a coffin found it ready made to order. The villagers began to fear the coffin-maker, and the cofim-maker avoided the villagers as much as possible. The women and children, and not a few of the men, believed he was in league with Satan, and he suffered a great deal in his trade. "To those of his neighbors with whom he conversed on this subject—and among them was my father—he said that the orders were delivered in the night by persons whom lie immediately recognized when they called for the coffins, and that when they were ordered he found the exact dimensions in chalk-marks on his bench the next morning. His wife no longer chafed Kim on the subject of the ghostly orders. "One morning he said to his wife that a coffin had been ordered during the night, but that the man had concealed his face, and he feared that he would not recognize him. He proceeded, however, to make the coffin in accordance with the measurement on his work bench, and at last finished it to his satisfaction. "I was on pleasant terms with Uncle Jake, as we called him, and happened in the shop just as he was finishing it "Dot man vos somepoddy who vill be buried mit dis coffin," he remarked. 'I not see who he vas dat order him, but I know it vas for some big man or somepoddy, so I make hiin of der finest cherry und line him of silk und satin. Vy, my boy, I would not pe ashamed to pe buried of dot coffin minesellf.' "A sudden pallor overspread Humbarger's face. Re stretched out his hands and fell dead across the coffin he had just finished. "He was buried in it, and the story of Jacob Humbarger was more than, a nine days' wonder here in Lancaster fifty-four years ago."

The writer was fain to acknowledge that the story of Jacob Humbarge^largely discounted the general run of, ghost stories. v'

American Art Students In Paris. Iracv Hooper's Setter. Speaking of art and American art students,! am told that the Jullitn studio, which is exclusively devoted to ladies, is now crowded with pupifc from shores. Among theseJg^ been a eacher of drawing large-cities for some time

MI drawing

our

.dy who has one of our it. Siie has

pr'

Eer

fw^s

when she showed it to him. "Madame," he said at last, "it is impossible tar me to correct your drawing—it is too bad—it is childishly bad." If these be the teachers at home, what mnst the pupils be like? The noted American lady artists. Miss Rosina Emmett and Miss Dora Wheeler, are now practicing in the Jullien studio, where their brilliant talent has attracted much notice and admiration.

TBE PRINCESS OF WAL.BS.

A 'Woman Who Is Immensely Popular With People of All Kinds. London Letter in Boston Herald.

The Princess of Wales is adored by the English Conservatives and Radicals alike, and it was a lucky day indeed for the heif apparent when he took the sweet and high-minded daughter of the king of Denmark to wife. Her popularity is rivaled only by that of Mr. Gladstone, and it is even greater than his, for London is hers, heart and soul, as well as the provinces. TO look at this pretty and girlish woman no one would imagine that she is forty years of age and the motlier of several children, including ti?b* great boys, one of whom has just attained his majority. Although H. R. H. holds herself so well that when seated in her carnage or in the box of a theater she seems a tall woman, yet, in reality, she is petite. The Princess dresses her hair rather high, and wears high heels. She is alwas attired to perfection, and usually in white or hlack in the evening, and in very quiet colors duriqg the day, but her costume at night, however simple, is set off by the most magnificent jewels, so that she literallv "blazes like a jeweled sun." H. E. H. is somewhat deaf, although not seriously so. The present writer has seen her manj times in public, and has always been im-

ressed with the grace and delicacy of type of beauty and the unaffected goodness that seems to surround her like an atmosphere. The Princess is always cheered to the echo and fairly mobbed by the enthusistic public,

Heliotrope the Fashion.

London Truth. Heliotrope is the fashionable fkwer, the fashionable perfume and the fashionable color. Perhaps I ought to say colors„for there are three or four different _sad and tender shades of mauve in the blossoms of the delicious flower. I have seen a lovely tea-gown made of heliotrope plush, lined with pale blue, satin, and opening over a plastron of palest blue crepe de Chine, the soft folds of which were all drawn towards the left side of the tablier, where they, were held by long loops and ends of heliotrope-colored velvet" ribbon, pale blue on the reverse side. With this becoming gown a bunch of heliotrope flowers was worn which I thought real, especially when I found the vicinity of the wearer, and indeed the whole room, impregnated with the penetrating, delicious odor peculiar to the flower. I am particularly susceptible to this sweetest of natural perfumes. It seems to brighten all my thoughts. So I soon asked my hostess where she had been able to get such magnificent flowers at this season. "Oh," she replied, "I am delighted you are taken in too. Every one who sees them thinks them real. Look!" And unfastening the clasp that held them to her dress, she laid the flowers in my hand. They were artificial, though so beautifully made and so fragrant of their prototypes that the Queen of Sheba's bees would be the only critics who could detect the difference. "But the perfume?" I asked, bewildered. "Here it is," she said, producing a bottle of Gosnell's Cherry Blossom, which is so strong an extract that it was sufficient to place the flowers in the same drawer with it

Radical Art Criticism.

London Truth. There is a picture of Venus being courted by Adonis at Burlington house. "What do you think of it?" said a friend to me. "I see nothing beautiful," I replied, "in a blousy, naked Flemish wench, with pinkish skin, and thighs the size of an elephant's legs, nor in a youth whose head is all askew." My friend's glance conveyed to me that he regarded me as a poor foolv wanting in taste, refinement and appreciation of genius. But is this so? What is there in this picture that any one should admire? What pleasure can any one have in gazing on the wench and her adorers Then there was a dying lion by Landseer.

There is a proverb which says that a live jackass is worth more than a dead lion. But a live lion costs about £50. Why then should a representation of the dying animal, produced by putting different colored paints upon apiece of canvas be worth more? It may be an excellent represer,*7!* ***"-, but it cannot be more than a representation. There are "Sir Joshuas" and Lawrences and Romneys and Gainsboroughs.Some are good, Cchers are bad. There are landscapes by Pouifsin and others. What is their excellence? I am sure that I do not know. If people would only be sincere, ninetynine out of' a hundred would admit that they do not know.

A New Photogaphic Trick. London Truth. I read that an ingenious photographer has devised a screen behind which ladies may be photographed with dummy feet of the most charming proportions peeping from below, so as to look as. if they belonged to the sitter, whose own pedal extremeties may be unsatisfactory in size and shape. There is really very little truth in the world. Heaps of women go about who are one mass of falsehood. Their figures are tailor-made, and their complexion, comes out of Truefitt's shop, as well as the color of their hair and eyebiows. They wear false ears and manufactured dimples. And now a means has been found of positively fibbing in photographs, cheating the truthfulness of the sun, and laying open even that impeccable orb to an accusation of fulsomest flattery. I have often heard the luminary accused of libel in the matter of photographs, but that is a superior and courageous kind of crime as compared with the meanness of the deliberate flatterer. cent all the time.

rem 'mln

Poor sun! And

Mark Twain Talks About Humor, Interview in the Detroit Post "Is the American taste for humor still growing, in your opinion?" "Yes, I think so. Humor is ai popular, and especially so with Americans. It is born in every American, and he can't help liking it." "Is it true that the American style ot humor is becoming very popular in England?" '•Yes, the liking of American humor over there has become immense. It wakens the people to new life, and is supplanting the dry wit which formerly passes for humor. American wiiiB its own way, and does not need to be cultivated. The English come to like it naturally"

SCIENCE TRIUMPHS.

fi

A X4v»c Man's Bo-^ela Removed from tbe Canty—The Intestines Carefully Replaced—Precaution a Ag-aJnst Peritonitis—The Patient How AWe to Walk. New York Tribnne.

The abdominal cavity of a man has always been avoided by surgeons. Men of greater or less eminence, who would look with a certain degree of professional pleasure upon an operation in almost any other portion of the body, have hesitated when the question of exploring this region was raised, and have listened to and shaped their action upon the principle "when there is a wound in the bowels, from whatever cause, it is bad surgery to probe or touch it"

Dr. Otis, in "The Surgical Histoid of the Republic," says that in cases where the intestines have been known to be pierced by a ball there was not a single recovery. Surgeons generally say that more than nine out of ten dieirom such an injury. This great mortality is caused by the inflammation of the abdominal cavity—peritonitis—whiclr follows the wound. The coats of the intestines being perforated by a bulletj the contents thereof escape, and the peritoneum (the membrane lining the inferior of the abdomen and covering the organs contained therein) become inflamed. This is almost certain to terminate fatally.

In the last few years, however, surgeons hare grown more bold,, and surgery has consequently made great advances, particulariy in dealing with tumors situated in the abdomen. Surgeons of an other age would have fainted at the suggestion of sinking a- knife into the abdomen and removing a tumor, yet to-day the opearation is frequently performed, and tlie death rate is not more tlian lOin 100 cases. Even portions of the bowels have been cut out and the severed ends united by stitches in removing tumors, and recovery has followed in a large number of cases. But the most brilliant case yet recorded, where the newer methods

I have seen her seated in the royal coach, returning in state from Buckingham Pal-l of surgery were prominently brought into ace to Marlborough House, preceded by) use, is an operation recently performed outriders, a diadem on her fair brow and at the Chambers Street Hospital. In this case precedent was openly defied, and the attending surgeons, with a courage and boldness equaled only by their skill and delicacy, saved a human life, in all probabilty, and performed an operation of a kind that never before had been attended with success.

gorgeously attired again, at a garden party, accempanied by her little daughters, clinging to the skirts of her gown, as she walked along between the ranks of ladies courtesying and men with their heads uncovered again, driving in Hyde park 'late in the afternoon with the little princesses, or going out to tlie royal yatcht ^anchored off the Isle of Wightj the ribbons of her sailor-hat fluttering in the fresh breeze, her dress a simple blue serge, and still again, selling roses for charity at the fete held in the Horticultural Society's grounds in South Kensington. The princess is a familiar, but always an isolated figure in English daily life. Tlie people recognize in her all those virtues which "her life does so much to reveal, and follow her good example in overlooking the past and putting faith in the future. Certainly, moreover, there is no reason to complain of the present. There are no scandals in their beau chateau.

William McElroy, a truck-driver, was accidentally shot on November 21,1884, with a 32-caliber pistol. He fell to the floor, but remained conscious. An ambulance took liim to the Chambers street hospital, where an examination showed that the ball had entered the abdomen about two inches to the left of a little below the navel. Thfe external wound was slight, and the ball had stopped at some point within the abdominal cavity.

The patient was put to bed, suffering greatly from the shock,- and carefully watched. Within a few hours signs of extravasation appeared. His features were pinched,' his pulse feeble and tremulous. Excruciating pains radiated from the seat of injury over the whole abdominal region, and were attended .with signs of collapse. The muscular effort of breathing was confined to the thorax, and there was a look of great anxiety upon the face. It was evident that the dreaded peritonitis would soon be fully developed. A consultation was held, and it was determined that death would speedily ensue unless relief was afforded in some .measure, and heroic treatment was decided upon.

Within twenty hours after being shot McElroy was transferred to the operating table. Ether wa" administered, and he soon became unconscious. Elaborate precautions were taken to prevent the introduction of disease germs into the wound. A spray of vapor of carbolic acid was played constantly into the room, which, to maintain the temperature of the body was kept at a uniform temperature of 80 The knives, forceps, needles and sponges that were to be used were kept in warm solutions. An incision was first made into tlie external wound, and it was found to extend into the abdominal cavity. Considerable hemorrhage began, but the blood was absorbed by sponges. The_ in-ch-ion was then increased to about eight inches through the. abdominal wall, but the wound was opened wide' and the intestines were exposed. The flow of blood increased and it ran into the abdominal cavity. After the hemorrhage was brought under control the cavity was sponged out and the search for the ball began.

A small section of the intestine was drawn carefully through the opening at a time, thoroughly inspected^^for laceratioas, and laid upon the bre&t

ipon tne DreaBi^between

layere of cloths tliat had previo.uslv been, wrung out of warm water. This procSss was continued until the entire intestines were taken out of the body. The bullet was found in the last section and removed. It wiis found to have penetrated the intestine in some places. As fast as each wound was discovered further search was stopped until the lacerated portion was sewed with extremely fine silk thread. The knots made in drawing the wounded surfaces together were left in position.

After all tlie wounds were closed, the cloths were carefully. removed from the intestines, and they leturned to their pronu^ position within the abdominal walS^ The large incision was then closed, and it, as well as the bullet wound, was sewed up with silk. The operation lasted two iiours, and the patient was kept under the influence of ethsj the whole time.

Measures were at once taken to prevent peritonitis. Morphine was given in small doses by hypodermic injections. A large coil of rubber tube was placed on the abdomen, through which the stream of ice-water was constantly kept running. For two days no nourishment was given through the mouth, the patient's strength being kept up by euemata of beef-juice. This was done to allow the stomcch and bowels to rest and permit the wound made by the bullet to neal.

As soon as food could be given properly McElroy gained strength, and in a comparatively short time was able to sit up in his cot, and afterward to walk about the hospital wards. He went out for the first time on Christmas day, less than two months from the time he was injured, and about a week afterwards he was discharged cured.

The only drawback in the progress of the case to convalescence was an abscess that formed in the wound made by the bullet a few weeks after the operation. This, however, was finally subdued by soothing treatment, though the edges of the wound remained Btubbom and would notcloBe. ¥his difficulty was overcome by skin-grafting, the skin bteing taken from another part of the abdomen and planted over the open wound, and healing soon followed. The patient was advised when discharged to' abstain from heavy work, as the abdominal wall may not be as strong qi? before.

ftandolph'cStormy Death. Letter in Cleveland Leader.' The last days of John Randolph of Roanoke are full of pathos. JS^nought he was dying for yearsh^J&fe he did so, and when he was^^Ra how he was he would reply1 dying! dying!" TTo wjmiIiWuiiiical and dictatorial until 4jta^tet, and he fought with his doctor on 15s death-bed over the pronunciation of certain words. His death occurred in a Philadelphia hotel. A few minutes before he "died the doctor wanted to leave him, bnt Randolph objected and his slave took the key, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. With his last sjeirds Randolph declared that he want* his slaves freed, and he kept the doctor there as a witness of his dying declaration. A skeptic through life, he appreciated his condition on his deathbed, and among his last words was "remoree." He was lving perfectly quiet, with his eyes closed, when he suddenly roused up and screamed in an agitated voice, "Remorse! remorse! remorse!" He then cried out, "Let me see the word! Get a dictionary! Let me see the humoi-j word!" There was no dictionary at hand, and he was told so. ""Write il, then Let me

ary

exclaimed, the word!" cards la,Roanoke." "Yes dolph's rilten

The doctor picked up one belied "JftandaljA of "Shall I write it ©n tl

r,c*feii.|r raowi pWpe*.

again. Hs looked at it with his blazing eyes. "Remorse!" he said, "yon can have no idea of it whatever has brought me to my present situation—bet I have looked to Jesns Christ and I hope to obtain pardon." He then asked the doctor to draw a line under the word aiyl told him to keep the card.

A short time after this his keen eye began to doll, his powerful mind gave way, and within two nonrs he died.

.To Keep tbe Cold Air Oat. Babyhood. itWhile old Boreas riots abroad, blowing cold defiance at the weak, wintry sun, it must be our endeavor to wage successful war against him indoors, and keep baby in warm, cozy comfort Our firststand against the enemy shall be made at his vantagepoint, the window. The insidious currents of air that continually strive to get in here may be kept out by window strips. These are easily procurable in cities, but many a careful mother, dwelling in some distant village or lone farm-house may be pleased to hear of a substitute which she tierself may readily construct A small wedge of wood driven between lower and upper sash will fasten the window firmly in its frame and prevent the rattling which often disturbs baby's lumbers. A roll of calieo or merino, of a color to suit the rest of the room, stuffed with cotton and as wide as the window, should be placed across the top of the lower sash, right over the onlv channel through which the air now finds admission. This looks better, and is a more effectual protection than the strips of cloth or felt which are usually tacked around windows, and give an appearance of untidiness to the room.

An Automatic Housekeeper. St Lonis Globe-Democrat.

A patent issued to a St. Louis man for an automatic fire-lighting machine was made the subject of investigation yesterday. This great booh for mankind might be taken, at first sight, for an infernal machine, but it isn't It has clockwork that reminds one of a dynamite fiend, but it is not dangerous. When the thing goes off it startles the beholder with a fizz and a flash of flame suggestive of ins tint death, but it will not explode. It will have a depressing effect on the matrimonial market. The women of single blessedness will be more than thrice blessed by it. They need pine no longer foj a handy, good-natured husband to light fires for them. The machine will de the work. All you have to do is to wind it up and make it go off at any hour you choose and then set the olock on the hearth. At the desired time a sulphur match is ignited at the end of a hollow brass tube, charged with chlorate of potassum and sugar, that flames into a burning flame, setting fire to a ball of asbestos, saturated with turpentine, at the further end, readily lighting a coal fife.

Can Kndnre Exposure* A Washington letter-writer says that "it is a wonder to any one who has ever seen an inauguration how any president can stand it. The 4th of^March has a reputation to keep up of being tlie most disagreeable day in the calendar. The incoming president virtually has his hat off from the time he leaves the White House until he gets back, traversing, the whole length of the avenue at a snail's pace." To some presidents this might s&m a hard thing but Mr. Cleveland rode bareheaded for four or five miles through a cold Buffalo rain-storm last October, and came out none the worse for it. It is tolerably certain that the terrors which Washington has in store for him are not those of the weather.

A Millionaire Who Looks Like One. New York Correspondence of the Philadelphia

Record.

An Even Thing.

Wall Street News. He was the attendant of a railroad lunch counter at a station in Indiana. The other day, as a stranger called for a cup of coffee, the attendant glared at him for a moment, and then began to spit on his hands. "What's up?" "Going to have revenge on you." "What for?" VI "We were in Wall street together ten years ago. You advised me to buy railroad stock, and then unloaded on me and brought me down to $40 per month." "Well, don't get mad about that. It wasn't a year before a chap unloaded coal oil on me, and I'm braking on this train here for a dollar a day."

Failuro of Silk Culture in California. The Alta California says that nobody in California has yet raised silkworms with profit, although many trials have been made, and the prospect of doing so at a future date does not appear particularly bright. The cultur? is all right and elegant cocoons can be obtained, but somehow silk-culture does not flourish.

Overworked People.

New York Mail and Expieee. Leaders of the german are well-nigh exhausted. Physicians keep pouring milk down their thi oats and professional nurses rub them continually with salt, amkjkiy great exertion they are able to lewfMrs. Blank's cotillion on Thursday, Mrs. Dash's on Friday and Mrs. Fussy'i on Saturday. Talk about the laborers!

Acquitted at Irfut.

From the Philadelphia Call. A Grand Rapids man was kicked down stairs ten years ago. Saturday he secured a verdict for $8,000 damages. It seems to have taken along time to prove to the jury that he was not a book agent.

Providence News "How do you pronounce s-t-i-n-g-y?" asked the teacher of the dunce of tne class. The boy replied "It depends a good deal on whether the word refers to a person or a bee."

The Northwestern Mutual Life in»urijee Company^* «5io™rectin* on the site of.f2S iSwfiflfHoa* a fin?

eU^e

the wedding day.

LH

Tlie Fadler ubliard.

Whitehall Times. The coat was a very bad fit—too full in the back. "That'll never do,' said the customer, "it's like a shirt on a bean pole." "Dot coat, mine frent," replied the dealer, "ish a very stylish garment. Look at«dot back. Mein gracious, it is lufly. See dot beautifnl puffing—der latest style, affd don't you forget it. It was made on Fifth avenue. It is de Fadder Hubbard style, and ia actually worth so much as five tollar more for -dot cut." And five minntes later the delighted customer left the store with his Father Hubbard coat.

The River Jordan.

When we reached the Jordan I discovered that I had traveled all these thou-sand-miles to view as foul stream as courses its way- through any country on earth. No wonder Captain Naaman indignantly refused at first to dip teven times in such a river. Indeed, we would scarcely apply the term river to a stream eighty feet wide and less than ten feet deep, with a current as swift as a millrace. Moreover, the mosquitoes were so pestiferous that to dip in the Jordan, as some sentimental travelers insist upon doing, would be to invite a condition of the body resembling scarlet rash.

PARIS.

THE STRANG LEKS OP

*rlpto Tragedy t„ the Snborbs of tkt'i Capital, tr Special Cablegram.

Pnr'n8 tbe past week no less than rty murders have been committed in, Pans and the vicinity. Of these the most dramatic took place at the farm of Gloiro

*"te ancient convent of.

T°Pme

y'where

Alexander Dnmaa

placMhe scene of the famous "Camps*nons de Jesus." M. De Laroche, a millionaire and retired lawyer SJ the present proprietor of the W tamed on Friday from pbeasant'shociing He was his W-room Sanri£ his shooting costume, when two Sad

the front

do®?. It

waa5,30in the afternoon. t. roche went down-stairs to open 'the door

me,n- entered

and proposed

to him an antique statue that they

lai,a etl-

'e Wtrainittft they

jwtef verreof cSgna^'jJ

as M. De Laroche placed his glass on the table, one of the men suddenly drew & heavy steel hammer from his iackeL struck M. De Laroche such Sterful Wow on the temple that it split lm skull open on the floor. The assassins then went up-stain and found the aged mother of M. De Laroche in her bedroom. By means of a twisted sheet the old lady was strangled to death. The only other occupant of the farm-house was a young servant girl, whose body was subsequently found in the kitchen with an enormous carving-knife through the head, literally pinning the corpse to the wooden floor. The triple murder beinr accomplished, the assasins proceeded to search the premises. They buret open the writing case and safe and took away with them, the murdered man's family papers and. 300,000 francs' worth of Russian and Engl&li ment bonds. The assassins left tl plate, of great value, untouched ju. 5,000 francs in gold. Two men have ftisPi been arrested, suspected of the crime. One is named Arnould, a workman Aid notorious bad character the other is a poacher, named Gagny. Both, when arrested, were in a state of gross intoxication. It is believed in the neighborhood, however, that these two men are merely hired assas-

E

sins. Although the murdered million**#^ airs had many relatives, yet he ignore^^ them all, and was known to have made will bequeathing his entire property tf his mother, should she outlive him,-*^ upon his mother$*d@Mh alLstaiHo go to the young daughter .of M. LeCreux, a sculptor and college comrade. This will was taken off by the assassins, and the wildest reports are current in the neighborhood as to the real instigators of the terrible and mysterious crime.

Etiquette at Weddings.

Detroit PoBt. As weddings in "English style" are all the rage this season, it may be interesting to mention ajew points regarding what is considered the correct form on the other side of the Atlantic. After the departure of the bride and bridegroom tho party at once break un and in London its is not customary to have any festival in tbe evening. In the evening there i& often a dance to amuse those staying in1 the house. Neither cards nor cake are sent, and people discoverfor themselves when the young couple return from their wedding ton and call at their convenience. -Whe bride appears at the first time at a dinue in any bouse she takes precedence of' everyone, no matter how high his rank, provided such appearance is within three months of her marriage, after which time she is no longer* considered a bride. The custom is, however, beginning to fall into disuse, excepting in rural distrii The bridegroom does not ohtaudPt cedence. The bride oftawwears her ding dress for her firstnarge dinners and

Record. parties the orange blossoms must W reThe millionaire who looks the million- ^oved, As they are only pexjpisSble on re more than any other New Yorker is the wedding day. aire more than any other New Yorker is Mr. William Astor. You could not pass Mr. Astor on the street without feeling that he was a very rich man. He looks something like Kaiser Wilhelm. He is over six feet tall I should say, and stout in proportion his complexion is florid, his eyes small and blue or grey, his nose long and rather sharp, and he wears short, grey side-whiskers that lie close to his ears, and a grey mustache that is clipped short, so that it will not interfere with his soup. He walks up town every day from his office an^ there is an air of exceptional prosperity him that is unmistakable.

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The "Artist's Model."

New York Letter. There are some things in the townf however, which are much less mysterious than they are generally held to be. One of these is the artist's model. Many a time have you read about the good and beautiful girl who, to save her decrepit parents from starvation, poses unclad for artists to draw from. You have been deceived. It is true that girls are so em-• ployed, not only in private studios, but before the classes -injjhesdjools of art but it is wholly false TES^toy are less shameless than the occupation Jipgjiefc Invariably they are vicious, and counts to the contrary are mere antries of fiction. There are numerous respectable women who serve as draped figures, but I have the word of a distinguished painter to back the assertion that the indecency of nude posturing is never associated with decency in the posturant.

The Difference In Undress. City Times. So exceedingly decollette are the dresses of the ladies at

the

Washington receptions

this winter that President Arthur shows his embarrassment and discomfort. a great relief for high-minded aqd men to slip away-irem-th 680*7 -mg bitions to the stern and rigid propriety of an "Adamless Eden" entertainment. The difl'erence between an ultra-fashionable woman and a female minstrel is, that th© one begins to saw off at the neck, tlie other at the feet.

-There Were Giants in Those Days. Boston Poet. Now it is ii that Jeffersonian simplicity would mean extravagance in in these days, as Jefferson's diary sliowrf that during his first four years as President he brought $8,500 worth of wfcj and liquors, and eot of the day on a lavish scale.

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misleading evidence. When Jeffersc 1 was President it took at least a barrel d' riim to make even aNew England churclj sociable a success. —T—

Miss Field's Manliness.

Salt Lake Herald. Two Boston papers are flying at thetf mastheads, "Kate Ffeld for Governor of Utah." Come on, Katie, darling, welcome to you. JYou are not as pretty as some Govea^fe that we fcould mention, but voir re a good deal more oi

Win Go!

•i Will

A vain man's motto is r* Win gold ana wear it a generous man's: "Win gold and share it a miser's: "Win gold and spare it a profligates spend it a broker's: "Win gold~afi« lend it a gambler's: lose it a wise man's: "Win geld and use it" i-

No Symptoms.

From the New York Son. Mother—Are you quite stl», dear, that young Featherly is not fond of you? He certainly seemed very devoted last night when he buttoned your glove.

Daughter—Ah, yes, mother hand never trembled.

but his

•What Wealtq Is.

Oliver Wendell Holmee. .... Wealth is a steep hill which the^ climbs slowly and which thofteu tumbles down precipitately.

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1 iniifiTi -y.

Unfortunately True..

8t. Louis Globe-Democrat O'Donovan Rossa waif "shot Qi NeW York yesterday, bnt it is feared thtyiiS-f: wilirecover.

On Gala ^Attire

Minneapolis Tribune, v-^ The Democrats are spring suits and ted *®thet of Marcft- invest!-.

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