Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 12 November 1891 — Page 6

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M'*.-

BOOK THE FIRST. 'fj? &s.\$

On the afternoon of an autumn day, forty odd years ago, a singular sceuo might have been witnessed in the streets of the seaside town of Linne. oa the south-west coast of Scotland. Townfolk, fishermen, fishwives, "bid men and women, lads and lasses, were gathered in a crowd aear the Cross in the main street, gaping, laughing, and jeering, while folioWiug aa extraordinary looking figure wno flourished in one hand a lonj, ragged stick,attached to which was a sort of banner, composed of au old towel or dish cloth, and held in the other a huge Scots bonnet, very much the worse oi wear. He shambled slowly along-, bare-headed and bare footed, talking loudly as he went, .aid now cud toon pausing to address the crowd, in tones now hhrill aad strident, now low and pitiful, according to the nature of his discourse. lie vms a man about forty, out he might have passed for sixty, so worn and woe-begone, so gray and wild did he appear but his step was strong and springy, and. despite his awkward gait, lie had ail the vigor of one in his prime. In walking, he bent forward, narrowing chest and shoulders, but when he paused,flourishing his banner and addressing the crowd, he drew himself to his full height of six feet upwards. Talking, gesticulating, flourishing his arms in the air,with his ragged coat blowing in the wind and showing a hairy, naked breast and sinewy throat and arms, he continued on his way. till he paused at the Cross, and stepping on the stone step, stood towering a full head and shoulders over the little sea of heads that were turned up to hear him.

Meanwhile the cry was running from door to door, "Willie Macgillvray's hereawa. Prophet Willie's preaching up and doon the town!" People ran from the shops where they were making purchases, the herring fishers left their nets on the chore and their boats on the quay, the landlord of the Tam O'Shanter pa came out to his door, the ragged children ran from every lane and alley with eager cries.

His back to the old Cross, his face to the sea, the man lifted up his fight hand, flourishing the banner, land addressed the crowd. '"In the name of the prophet, Macgill vrav! In the name of Willie the Hermit! hearken to the words o' (wisdom, spoken to a foolish and a feeble generation! Open your lugs, ye rogues and ye hizzies, and take heed to the emblem I wave before ye—ay, look upon it and take heed!"

A huge roar of laughter interrupted him. We're taking heed, Willie!" cried a voice. "What, is't? A dish-cloot, Willie, my man?"

The prophet'.' ../?:* twinkled stangely. •'Ay, a dish-clout, and what for no? "What would you have, Tammos, ye sinner^ Would you have a brand from your smithy tire? Would yo have the Royal Lion o' Scotland, emblazoned in gold on a crimson flag o' the silk? Would ye have a green tree, ye grinning dee il, or kail runt from the garden? 1 take my flag where I find it—a sark bleaching in the hedge, or a young lassock's petticoat from the linen-press, or an old wife's kushion from the armchair! Away, ye limmers! away, ye sinners! away, ye scum o' Egypt and o' Scotland, and get ye dish clouts and cold

bawbee! Gold I cannot take, and. 2reafc

silver I will not take but I seek just

end ansjry, and 'the tanner was

Waved impatiently in the air.

to ye the threat o' hell-fire, like the!^0 1" °U

THE LAIRD OF UNNh

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.

CHATTER I!'""'

WILLIS THE PREACHKR.

and satins like a lady, nor ragged and dirty like you, ye drabs'and fishwives of,the town! She is modest in her demeanour. and wise in her speech, and bornie o' blee, with a sweet mouth and loving cheek, and all she wears is the petticoat and short gown of a fair-hair'd lowland lass that milks the kye! Shall I tell ye what ther call her? Will you hearken to her name? Her name then, is Common Sense, own sister to Christian Charity, and first kissen by blood to Sisterly Love! Hearken to that, now! Hearken to that, now hearken to that, ye that have no sense, and no charity, and no love!"

Here, just in the warmth of his argument, he stopped short, dropped his banner, and crooned most piteously— "Lord preserve me, I'm awfu' dry! Who'll give Willie the Prophet two bawbees to kill the drouth?

A loud roar greeted this sally. The smith who had previously spoken—a huge fellow, in his shirtsleeves —then stepped forward— "Sing us a song, Willie, my man, and I'll treat ye to half a mutchkin!"

The prophet looked at him with an expression full of mingled suspicion and approval. "I ne'er can sing till my throat's wetted, Tammas! Oil my voice, and I'm your man!"'

With a laugh and a nod, the smith strode away to a small public-house in the corner of the quay. Willie followed closely at his heels, and the crowd followed Willie. The smith and the preacher disappeared into the public-house, but, after a few minutes, emerged again, Willie wiping his mouth with the cuff of his ragged coat. "Noo, Willie my man!" cried Vulcan whereupon, without more ado, Willie spraug into the middle of the street, and in a loud voice, clear, though shrill, sani* the following ditty:— "Come sit down, my cronie, aad gh me your crack. Let the wind tak' the cares o' this lifo on its back Our hearts to despondency we ne'er will submit,

We've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet! And say will wo yet. and sae will wo yet: When we fell, we ayo gat up again, and sae wiU we yet? "Let the glass keep its course, and gae merrily roun', The sun has to rise tho' the moon should gae doon, Till the house be rinnin' roun' about, 'tis time enough to flit When we tell we aye gat up again, sae will we yet!

And sae will we yet, and say will we yet When we fell, we aye gat up again, and sae will we yetl"

As the man sang, his face grew transformed, his wild eyes grew soft and dreamy, his whole manner inexpressibly sad and tender. There was no laughter now. The crowd listened as if spell-bound, and the smith, with a great gulp in his throat,threw a handful of coppers into the singer's hat, crying— "Cover that, some of ye!"

In a moment, men and women pressed forward to shower halfpence into the hat, nor did the almsgiving cease, till the sum amounted to several shillings. Gathering the money up in his clenched hand, Willie thrust it into the breast pocket of his coat, and then, with a skip and a jump, ran rapidly UD the street, with a flock of shouting children at his heels

Suddenly he paused in the middle of the road, in front of a man on horseback, who was coming along at a slow trot. The horse paused suddenly and swerved aside, nearly throwing the rider—a thin, cleanshaven, keen-eyed man of between forty and fifty—who uttered an angry exclamation, and aimed a blow with his riding whip at the mendicant's bare head.

water from the well, and wash your souls clean! Never heed jrour faces this day—look to your souls, for the! Lords coming dov, thisway. and I, lie, parrying the'blow with his sticli Willie Macgillvray, am his prophet!" and seizing the horse's reins. "What

Here, suddenly sinking his voice ails you this bonnie morning?" Then #nd changing his tone, he held out' drawing back and bowing low with the great bonnet, and continued like mock reverence,he added. "Room for a mendicant— the laird o' Castle Hunger! Room

All that I ask for mv pains is one

Gently, lairdvgently!" cried Wil-

thero

YPU

imPs

Slller to

one bav/oee from each and all." "Out of the way, you drunken There seemed td be no response to

Ills, solicitation. The people nudged f0"1'

each other, and grinned, andlau-hod

docking hens o' the kirk! No, ya\ ,, .. limmers no, ve hezzios no, ye &• I the words uttered, norant loons I'll tell ve the trae more particularly the manner tidings that came to me from the "prance, seemed to render the mouths o' the loaders of mankind. I

J3 world, and what for ro' with a t.ish-clout! It's reeking and stinking with dirt! It's as foul as a mid-tK-n an I as black as a common sewer! Will yon tell me that the auld wife o' Rome can clcan it—she's tried her best for eighteen hundred years, and what's she done but spilt the pot into the fire and filled the house with rock and fume? WiU you tell me that Rome can clean it, or Presbytery, or Free Kirk, or any kirk, for that's a lie! Theone that is coming lo do the job—with a' dish-clout in faer hand—is neither bedizened like the Sea?!** Woman, nor clfid in silks

r'der

In the name of the prophet. Willie striKsIr Uis horao smartly over the Maogillvrav, who had sat at the feet' ZM?

of fiohcrt" Owen o' Lanark and:"'

drunken the words wisdom from I Srom»

and loons, for the

man with his

pouches fu

Sie

thc

poor."

sa!d, th"

horseman, with a

wl"le

f°? lcg

,h'3 horse planted his

flrml

but not a copper was forthcoming- beforethe waving banner "Do you so that the voice again pealed shrill I

me to

bld

''What, ye limmers, nothing! Not example! Who a doit, not a bawbee! Will 1 curse

w™ld

ye with bell, book, and candle, like a! re.d ,w!nTe? of Castlo Hunger .f the priest o' Romel WiU I sneevel out,

stood anting

break my neck?

foJ wor'ds lai^'

Lord tor

I?1'""1'1 ™b creation ol a shin

.mherlt. the flesh-pots and the

alrd

without issue and

th,°

lips o' William Pulton o' Kiliuar-1 ^en'at a hard gallop, he passed up rock! There's one coming to clean

tho

°aUSey

furious. With a sharp oatl. he

hls

7hlp

an,d

sP"n«

,oreed

fcrward, nearly over-

mendicant in its career

out of

»W«-

CHxVPTER II.

ROBIN.

William Macgillvray, better known as Willie the Prophet, was one of those extraordinary characters only to be found in the kingdom of Scotland, and rapidly dying out even iliere. Regarded by many people as a harmless madman, and by those who knew him best as a strange compound of wild enthusiasm and sly common sense, he was known everywhere on the southwest coast, .vhero no led a mysterious kind of

life, from hand to mouth. Mean and ragged as was his appearance,, hq was, nevertheless, a gentleman by birth, and in his early life had taken orders as a minister of the Scottish Church. If the truth must be told, drink had been at the bottom of his eccentricities. After certain outrageous performances in the pulpit which led to his expulsion from the only living he ever enjoyed, he had disappeared for several years and been a wanderer on the face of the earth, extending his pilgrimage as far oast as the Holy Land, and as far westward as the United States. Reappearing in his native country at about the time when Owen of Lanark was inviting proselytes of all degrees to learn and teach the new doctrines of Socialism, he had joined the little band of Socialist missionaries but his evil genius pursued him even here, and during an extraordinary passage of arms with a certain minister of the Church whom he had invited to meet him on the platform in a three days' debate on the thesis, 'Whether or not orthodox Christianity has been an unmixed benefit to Society," he had broken down so ignominiousiy under the influence of strong drink, that even the Socialist party regarded him as a devil's advocate. and eagerly washed their hands of him. From that time forward, he led the life of a vagabond, roaming from place to place, and shelterless as a bird of the air mobbed sometimes for his shocking heterodoxy, which he took no trouble to disguise, and which deeply offended the prejudices of most of the population, but protected generally bv the good humor of public opinion, which classed him, perhaps rightfully, as a harmless lunatic. In good truth, few of those who listened to him knew exactly what he was driving at, so mixed was his matter and so wild his mode of delivery on these occasions, when, leaving his retreats he burst out into the streets and market places, and proclaimed his prophetic vocation.

Those who knew, said that Willie was by no means so hair-brained as he pretended to be and, for some reason or other, he had friends far and wide. Pawky farmers, respectable and religious in all their belongings, welcomed Willie to their inglesides, and gave him a shakedown when he wanted it. Peasants and fishermen enjoyed his gifts of conversation and song-singing. His wants being few, there was always some one to minister to them, and he generally contrived to be of service to those who treated him with that kindly consideration.

His fits of prophesying and speechifying came on periodically, under the influence of the liquor which had been his lifelong bane. At other times, he came and went quietly enough, and was sufficiently shrewd to keep his wildest opinions to himself.

An hour or so after the sce'ne,~ or scenes, described in the preceeding chapter, Willie was wandering alone along the sea-shore beyond the town trailing his banner along the ground like the tail of a dog in disgrace and oscillating wildly in his gait. It was the close of a golden day, and the sun was setting in splendor upon the mountainous islands of the sea. Not a sound broke the stillness, save the occasional cry of a hovering seagull or the lonely call of a curfew.

He walked on unsteadily, muttering to himself, till he had left the town far behind then, pausing, and leaning on his stick, he looked backWard with lack-lustre eyes. The distant houses, the dark quays, were reddening to tne sunset, and one or two red-sailed herring boats were beginning to creep out to the night's fishing on the almost windless sea. He turned with a sigh, and saw before him a craggy promontory, on the edge of which was a lonely lighthouse the dim beacon of which nad just been newly lit. Between the promontory and the path he had followed stretched many miles of rocky sands and reefs of erimson weed left bare by the tide, which was at its lowest ebb.

He walked on for some minutes, then, pausing again, threw his banner down, and cast himself full length on the shingle, closed his eyes, and seemed to go to sleep. Presently, however, he sat upright, $nd, after passing his hand wearily across his brow, gazed at the sunset, with a look so long, so wistful, so dreamy and absent-minded, that it was some time before he perceived that he was not alone.

Just above him, on the irough and scanty grass which fringed the shingle's edge, stood a tiny figure, looking down upon him, as .silent and moveless as himself a little boy of seven or eight years old, whose dress consisted of a single garment like a girl's frock—which, indeed, it might once have been—who wore neither shoes nor stockings, and whose long, golden hair had no covering of

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any

kind. The child did not stir, but stood watching Willie with eyes as sad as his own, yet pitiful as well as wistful—till, drawn by some magnetic attraction of the little one's steadfast gaze, Willie started, looked round., and greeted him with a curious smile. "Is that you, Robin?" he said, gently.

took you for a fairy,

Robin, with the light shining on your bonnie golden hair, and your, eyes of elfin blue. Come, and sit you here by my side." "The boy sprang down and seated himself -on the loose shingle, gathering up the mingled sand and shells with one hand, but looking steadily into the man's face. '.'What ails you, Robin?" asked Willie, a little uneasy under that steadfast gaze. "What brings ye here, and where have ye beenir

"Up tho toon, Willie! I saw ye amang the folk, and followed you hereawa'."

Willie's face fell. "I did not see you,Robin," he said, softly. "But I saw you, Willie and I saw the folk making fun o' ye! and I thought shame o'ye when I saw ye drinking at the public-hoose!"

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had just two glasses, Robin," apologetically. "Ye had mair than twa," said the boy, firmly. "Ye were drunk, Willie, and you're half-drunk noo!"

This was plain speaking with a vengeance, but Willie did not seem at all astonished. He looked at the child, smiled sadly, and then, reaching out his hand, passed it gently over his long, golden hair. "You're right, Robin—I'll not deny it! The spell was on me, and I yielded to the tempter, as you say. But I'm sober now, Robin! It's away like an ill dream!"

Still lightly smoothing the child's hair, he continued— "But there are bonnie dreams as well as ill ones, Robin, my doo! It was a bonnie dream I had the noo, when you came gazing down upon me. saw a bairn like yourself standing yonder at the gates o' brightness, and he had golden hair like this, and he was waving his two hands and beckoning me to come and who think you was the bairn but wee Willie Macgillvray—Willie, as he was thirty years sync, a laddie like yourself, Robin? He's living yonder, and waiting till I come for there's sense as well as nonsense in what the ministers say about 'except a man be born again, he canna' enter the kingdom o' heaven.'

This curiously irrelevant discourse did not seem to astonish the listener at all. With the red light on his sweet face, Robin listened and nodded then, pointing seward, he cried— "See till the sue, Willie! Is it no' bonnie?"

The wistful look grew on the man's wan features, which shone as if anointed. •'Yon's no' the sun, Robin!" lie said smiling. "Yon's Gad!"

The child started, as if somewhat afraid then, catching his friend'3 smile, he cried— "Is God in the sun, Willie?" "God's yonder, Robin. I can see him plain—His face, and His eyes, and His hair, and the shining of His smile. He's watching you and me and the world. Whether we're waking or sleeping, He' watching. Eh, but He's looking down on a heap o' dirt and wickedness, and wondering, maybe, why He made it I Could He not have made it better, and made folk wiser, and kept men forever young, and saved them from the curse o' drink and such abominations? It must be an awful thing to be God, and to think of the responsibility! If I were God, I'd snuff the worfd out like a candle, and begin it all o'er again with a loving lad and lass, not naked, but decently clothed, and nae De'il to tempt thom to wander astray!"

Even this raving did not disconcert or astonish the child, who, seeing an occasion to point a moral, interposed— "The De'il made a whiskey, Willie! A'body kens that!" "But God made the De'il" cried Willie, with a grin, rising to his feet.

The boy stooped down, and lifted the banner, placing the stick across his shoulder-that he might bear its weight the more easily then, side by side, the curiously assorted pair turned inland, crossed an arid patch of meadowland, and reached a narrow country road- By this time the gloaming had fallen, and here and there in the sky glimmered a star.

As they passed along, Willie began to sing, in the clear, pathetic tones peculiar to him— 'c fs "I'm wearing awa,1 Jean, ,Llke snaw when it'sthaw, Jean:

I'm weaHnr awa, to The Lando' tho Leal." All at once he paused and pointed up. "Did ye ever see bees thronging, Robin, when a body drumm'd to them on an old tin can or a saucepan lid? Well, that's what he who made the world is doing now, only it's a kind of a harp He's playing (harken, Robin, and ye can hear—a kind o' a still, small sound!) and the stars are thronging out with a hum! hum! hum! and flying round and round Him and they'll throng and throng all night, aye growing thicker and brightei*, till He gathers them into His byke at the grey of dawn. No man can cou^t them He canna' count them Himsel' and yet, Robin my man, each star's a world like this spinning round and round to yon heavenly playing. And the priest can blether, and the minister can sneevel, and the kirks battle together like the beasts o' the field, in the face of a sight like yon, in the hearing of yon awful music. Look up again, Robin. Strain your een, my doo, and you'll see glints o' light coming and going, and a shining as of a wonderfu* gate o' gold." "I see thc lights, Willie, but na gate," said the child. -'Are the lights angels?" "They're ghosts o' dead men and women coming and going and watching the thronging the stars. Eh, Robin, it's a sad sight, yon, to a sinful man—a man saddened with the curse o' drink. But never believe the blether about angels and such like chimeras of the poets. There's one Milton pictures them like muckle sodgers, with swords in their hands, and powder guns, and cannon to blow eaoh other into space and the de'il himself a kirid p' Napoleon. Bonaparte, haranguing ttie sddgers and riding about on a charger—for all the world like a scene in a peep-shoir!

lr.9•V*

That's foolishness, Robin—foolishness and havers! Yet the angels arg men and women, and the de lis ara men and women! The one thing in yon daft chiel Sweden borg that pleased me is .that be kenned this, and put it in his long-winded books."

The boy gazed up in his face, wondering. "I dinna like to look at thc stars, Willie. They make me feared!" "No wonder!" returned the man, standing bareheaded under the sky. "I said the same thing to Robert Owen once, when we were walking at gloaming on the banks o' Clyde. 'They tell rnc you're an atheist, Mr. Owen can ye look up at yonder sky and say without trembling, 'There is no God?' Man! Robin, ye should have seen the look he gave me and do ye ken what he replied? 'They call me an atheist, Mr. Macgillvray,' he said, 'because I believe in no God but goodness because I worship no form of evil, and respect no tyranny, be it human or divine.' I took cJff my bonnet to him then and there— like this. He was a grand man, Rob ert Owen, and dispelled a heap o' vulgar superstition."

Strange talk, surely, between a grown man and a child but it was this very freedom of conversation

A Lord, Thy wUl be done. When tyrant feet are trampling

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themes he did or did not understand that fascinated the boy. It nevei seemed to occur to Wlilie to explain anything, or to assume an inequality of Ideas between himself and hi^ companion. He talked away out ol the fullness of his simple heart, a« to a friend and equal and thougt Robin scarcely followed his drift, there was between the two a perfect ly sympathetic understanding. "Come awa," whispered Robin, pulling the man by the coat

sleeve.

"Mither's wanting 3'e, Willie. SLs sent me into the toon to seek ye." Willie hastened on by the side ol the boy, who ran to keep upwith him. "Why did you not tell mo before that she was seeking me? "Because you were drunk, Willie!" replied Robin, sententiouslv.

Willie took the home-thrust in silence but presently as he hurried along, he muttered to himself— "Not so drunk either! I had my ears and eyes! .1 ding'd the truth into them and then I sang a bit song, and got a handsome collection. And I seaur'd the laird o' Linne, on his road to Castle Hunger! Not so'drunk, but maybe drunk enough for one that Wiis preaching the religion o' common sense." "I saw ye scaur thc Hard," cried Robin, panting and looking up to him "I thought he would hae been coupit trae the saddle." "He would have gotten his desserts, Robin. I'll tell you this—a broken neck is is better than a broken heart!" ,^ [TO BE CONTINTED.]'

Men that Women Abbots

New York Ledger. The chivalric gentleman never boasts of his popularity with the ladies, but the coxcomb has the ineffable meanness to brag of favors, that he never has received, and that he is an object of admiration in quarters where he is regarded as a nuisauce. Now and then one of these pretenders gets a horsewhipping from the indignant brother or husband of some lady" whose taste as well as character he has libeled, but many of the tribe— morc's thc pity —go unwhipt of justice. We recently heard of one of the genus who is in the habit of procuring the cartes de visite of ladies at photographic establishments for the purpose of exhibiting them to his male acquaintances as portraits sent to him by the fascinated originals These are some vilenesses which can only be reached and adequately punished by the right arm of a private avenger, and this is, we think, one of them. Only fools of the lowest caliber seek popularity in this way. All women, without exception, abhor such men. -I THY WILL BE DONE.

Not In dumb resignation We lift our hands on high. Not like the nervous fatalist

Content to tru3t and die. "1' Our faith spring3 like the eaglo I Who soars to meet tho sun, \'"And cries exulting unto thee,

Upon the common weal, Thou dost not bid us bend and wrltv Beneath the iron heeL "In Thy name we assert our right

,v"

By sword or tongue or pen, 'And even the headsman's ax may flash Thy message unto men. ®1Thy will! it bids the weak be strong 111, It bids the strong be just

No lip to fawn, no hand to beg, No brow to seek the dust. Wherever man oppresses man

Beneath thy liberal sun, O Lord, be there Thine arm made bare. Thy righteous will be donel —John Hay, In Harper's Magazine.

Even Corn Husks Are Valuable. St. Louis Globe. The fates are combining to make things pleasanter for the western farmer, the latest discovery of value to him being that the husks of corn will make excellent paper. Hitherto husks have not had any commercial value and have only been eaten by stock under protest and during hard spells. Now, however, the establishment of paper mills in the West should put a stop to the constant shipping of paper from the East, and also convert a waste article into what manufacturers would call a "residuary profit," such as coke in a gas factoy. It is not many years since old rags were looked upon as the only possible raw material for thefnanufacture of paper, and' thc course

froni

cast-off shoddy to th

covering of oornoobs has been botk steady and interesting

MILLI05 A. TEAfL

Lottery and Prize Scbemes Used to Sell Alum and Ammonia Baking Powders.

A New York concern, manufacturers of an ammonia baking powdei boasts that its yearly profits

enormous. A business so profitable, will always attract to itself those whose gre3d will cause them to utterly disregard the effect their traffic may lmve upon the health or life of others.

Alum baking powders are introduced largely by gifts, prizes and lottery schemes. A piece of glassware or china, a child wagon, sled, a pewter spoon or some ether article of attractive appearance,but of small intrinsic value or cost, is given with each purchase, or a number is attached to the can which entitles th» customer to a similarly numbered article or to a prize of some kind. It is in some such way as this that the trade in alum and ammonia baking powders has attained such giant proportions, and their consumption by the public has reached an extent thai is truly alarming.

The highest authorities of all countries condemn the use of alum in bread without reserve. In America the most distinguished physicians, chemists and hygienists have declared that the traffic in alum baking

faw.

)owders should be suppressed by In England and France, the 6ubject of pure food and its effects upon the system, have been more fully considered and made the subject of extended experiments by the scientists, and so serious a matter is the use of alum in bread or other food considered to be, that most stringent laws have been enacted to prevent it. These laws are rigidly enforced, and the sale of alum baking powder would not be permitted for an hour. Any one who attempted to make them for uso in food, or attempted to use them for raising bread, biscuit or cake would suffer Bevere penalties.

The ill effects upon the system of food raised by alum baking powders are the more dangerous because of their insidious character. It would be less dangerous to the community were it fatal at once, for then such food would be avoided but their deleterious action because imperceptibleat first is no less certain.

The puckering effect which alum has when taken in the mouth is familiar to everyone. Physicians say this same effect is produced by il, upon thc delicate coats of the stomach and intestines.

What housewife wouM take home to her family a can of lu or ammo* nia baking powder if le knew it* Such powders not only undermine the system, but it is pointed out that ammonia taken into the system in even infinetessimal doses day after day, imparts to the complexion sallow and blotched appearance.

It is safe to discard all baking powders sold with a prize or gift. What a misnomer are the words "Absolutely Pure," as applied to. baking powders. Two of the largest* selling brands, one made from alum, the other containing ammonia, and both of these drugged baking powders have stamped upon their labels and circulars these words, "absolutely pure." As a matter of fact they are "Absolutely Poor, "as shown by official examinations.

people.

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Queen Victoria has prohibited smoking in Windsor Castle. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone have determined to pass the winter in Florence.

Abraham Lincoln was the first President to issue a Thanksgiving proclamation.

Ex-Go v. Moorehouse, of Missouri, was the third ex-Governor of that State to die by his own hands.

Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee are room-mates at the Washing* ton and Lee University, Lexington, Va.

Sixty-three students are now said to be working their way through Yale College and paying all their ex* penses.

Mrs. T. N. Egery, of Bangor, it said to be the richest woman in Maine. The Bar Harbor Tourist rates her at $4,000,000.

Senator Vance, of North Carolina, is in Rome with his family. He re« turns to the United States at tht nd of October.

Tasker Polk, of North Carolina, a phew of President Polk, is nowtnt arest of kin surviving his distinguished relative.

Mary Lowell Butman, sister o| James Russell Lowell, the only su* viving member of the poet's generic tion, will soon be 81.

Miss Florence Hartley has been ap» pointed a court reporter at Wichita^ Kas. She is the first woman t»m ceive such an appointment*

-fir

art

over a million dollars. While, perhaps, none of the makers of alum powders individually can show such large earnings, yet their profits

are

A Philanthropist. "Thank you very much lot.

Tramp:

tho lunch mum but could you spai me 25 cents?" Woman: "Merc.,. What do you want with 25 cents?* Tramp: '"Well, I don't want it foi myself, mum. I'm just collecting a lit* tie here and there, the same as the rest of the profession, and when we get enough we're going to found a horn# for destitute tramps."

The crop prospects in India at* rowing worse, though the long' ooai^ ued rain has ceased.