Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 October 1891 — Page 17

M1 TOTT?

UNDAY JOURNA

AAA AAA A A AAA AA i PAGES 17 TO 20. PART THIUD. Jiff! VII PRICE FIVE CENTS. PRICE FIVE CENTS. INDIANAPOLIS, SUNDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 11, 1891-TWENTY PAGES.

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Subjects of Interest Discussed by Writers for Current Periodicals. What Stcry-Writers Are Doinj The Work of Rives, rgdestonKipling and Davis Oar Ccmmon Roads -Literary Coincidence. Amelia Hives has probably received, first end last, more public attention than she deserved, but unles she writes something more worthy of notice than her latest story, "According to St. John," in the Cosmopolitan Magazine, her prospects for fame or even further notoriety are slight. Her first stories, "A Prother to Dragons," etc., honed a strength and promise that justified high expectations on the part of her icadersexpectations that were shattered by that nnpleasant book "Tne Quick or the Dead." Thepfl early stories showed that the author had been a student of English classic literature, and, while not a mere imitator, had modeled her style upon it. "According to St John" is an evident imitation of modern French models, and a poor imitation it is. She attempts a realism that verges upon vulgarity and indulges in sentimental outbursts that make herself and her characters ridiculous. The heroine, Jean, is a Virginia girl of seventeen, who takes her patrimony of $10,000, and with a negro maid, goes to Fans, where she lives upon her income and studies music Here, after a year or so, she makes the acquaintance of an artist and his wife, with both of whom she falls in love. Discovering her sin as to the latter, she confesses to the wife, who is a consumptive, and about to die. The woman forgives her after first confusing that her own heart had been another's when she married the artist, and tell her that after sho. the wife, is gone she imi-t comfort the bereaved husband. On her death-bed she makes the husband, who has hardly recognized the existence of Jean, promise to marry the girL In the course of a few months, his motherless child needing care, ho recalls this promise, and Jean being still in love with him, he has no ditliculty in carrying oat his deceased wile'a plan. At the same time the heart of this remarkable man was buried in the grave of that wife, and he sntiered great anguish from the daily incidents that reminded him of her. To hear Jean called "Mrs. Farrance" twisted his heartstrings. "He shrank from it as religious men shrink from a blasphemy against ttenameof Hod. He longed unspeakably to hear the voice of the dead Lilian. "Jean seemed to him vague, elusive. She was the magnifymg-glass through which Lilian's features, both of lace and character, becamo more and more distinct. Every movement of the poor child called up the contrasting movement which would have beeu Lilian's; every look of her eyes made him remember the different expression which Lilian's would have worn at such a time. He told himself wretchedly that a nan twice married is like a man who follows two arts. In the depth of his own heart he knows that one is dearer, while he bids himself believe that he loves both equally, though in a ditleront manner." The second wife might never have discovered this unhappy condition of her husband's mind had he not resorted to the plan, only known to sentimental schooi-girls and to novelists working out a plot, of confiding his secret thoughts to a diary. Carelessly leaving this volume within the reach of the baby one day, the child tore twine leaves out; the new wife picked them up. caught sight of the fatal words upon them, and was at once plunged in & gulf of dark despair. At tnis late stage of the story the reason fonts title becomes apparent. Saint John, the disciple had said: "Greater love hath no man thau this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." This the broken hearted wife construed as authority for herself to sacrifice her life for ber husband, who would be happier were she not present to disturb I. is thoughts from the memory of No. 1. Therefore, "according to St. John,'' she took a done of morphine and died in the most artistic style of the novelist's art. Whether the story is meant to teach a lesson is not Known, but its obvious moral is that tin girl should marry a widower unless she can be sure that the ghost of the deEa;ted spouse will not walk and disturb er peace. The Traveler la Cairo. Books of travel are apt to be the most uninteresting of literature. If yon have not been over the ground yourself, descriptions ere apt to fall fiat, and if you are familiar With tho scenes tho account must have peculiar attractions if it holdiyour attention. If the description is graphic, however, it is the one who has seen the places pictured who is Jhost likely to care to know what the itnpreasions ot others tire. Miss Constant e fcVuimoreW ooUon's sketch ot Cairo, in the October Harper, diners from the ordinary tourist's record in hat mg a charm and vividness that must attract all classes of readers. Cairo is a much-bewritten place, and to say anything new of it indicates both freshness of perception and literary talent on the part of tbe writer both ot which Miss YYoolson has developed in another Held. What sbe sees there is not what the hurried traveler sees, lo most tourist Cairo, she say, Is a confesed memory of donkey, dragomans, mosquitoes, dervishes ami tncsque. To learn the charm of the place one must linger and return. Is Cairo worth this? fhat." she says, "depends upon the temperament. If oua must have in his nature somewhere a trace of the foet to love Venice, so ono n nst be at heart something of a painter to love Cairo, lier coiors are so softly rich, the Saracenic part of her architecture is so fantastically beautiful, the figures in her streets are so picturesque, that one who has an eyo for such eilect seems to himself to be living in a gallerv of pointings without frames, which stretch oil in vistas, melting into each other u they go. if. therefore, one loves color, if pictures are precious to him, are important, let him go to Cairo; he will find pleasure a waiting film. Flaubert said that one could imacine the pyramids, and perhar-a the Sphinx, without an actuAl sight of them, but that what one could not in the least imagine was the expression on the face of an Oriental barber hs he aits cross-legged before his door. Thai is Cairo exactly. You must see her with the actual eyes, and you must see her without haste, fche does not roveal herself to the Cook tourist, uor even to Gaze's, nor to tho nan who is hurrying oil' to Athens on a fixed day which nothing can alter." The Faith Doctor. Mr. Edward Eggleston's "Faith Doctor," the concluding chapters of which are given in the October Century, has probably attracted more attention than any story he has written in recent years. It is an excellent study of the recent "mind-cure'' and "Christian-science'' movement, which, in their various developments, have gained such a hold upon portions of the community. He treats the subject in a mot discriminatiug tay, laying bare the fraud where iraud is, and touching with respect upon that phase in which emotional enthusiasts are engaged and whoareeaineotin thiir belief in tho efficacy of prayer as a cute for disease. Aside from the study of this curioua craze, the rtory, as such, is not especially strong, and in its Dual chapter degenerates iiitothe voinmonpJace. 'Ihe heroine does not descend gratefully from her state of exaltation to every-d.iy pructical life and common sense. at?d the pair depart from view just in time to sve themselves from becoming tiresome. 'I liatthey do et away in time nmv he, however, a proof of the author' artistic skill. Juit r to Kipling. Edmund (Josso writes a critical review of UudyarJ Kipling work that will jdease th many who Mill cherish a likingfor that author, in spite of the foolish clamor raised

by newspaper wr'.t .rs, who objected to his boyish and crude comments on things American as he saw them on a Hying trip through the country. Mr. Gosse recognizes Kipling's faults, but he declares himself unable to be iuditlerent to the chaim of what he write. "From the first moment of my acquaintance with him," he saya, "it has held me fast. It excites, disturbs, and attracts me; I cannot throw oil its disquieting inliuence. I admit ail that is to be said in its disfavor. I force myself to see that its occasional cynicism is irritating and strikes a false note. I acknowledge the broken and jagged style, the noisy newspaper bustle of the little peremptoty sentences the cheap irony of tho satires on society. Often but this is chieily in the earlier stories I am aware th.it there in a good deal too much of the rattle of the piano at some cafe concert. lint when all this is said, what does it amount to? What but an acknowledgment of the crudity of a strong and rapidiy-developing young nature! Von cannot expect a creamy smoothness while the act of vinous fermentation is proceeding' He finds it futile to analyze the gilt and tho charm. "1 want more and more, like Oliver Twist. I want all those 'other stories.' I want to know all the things that Mr. Kipling does not like to tell to see the devili of the East 'rioting as tho stallions not in spring.' It is the strength of this new

story-teller that he reawakens in in the primitive emotions of curiosity, mystery i and romance in action. He is the master of a new kind of terrible and enchanting J peep-show, and we crowd around him, begging for 'just one more look.' " A portrait of Kipling that forms tho frontispiece of tho magazine shows a strong face of a man who seems to have lived moro than the twenty-six years that are his. A KU'cg Story-Writer. There is nothing similar in the literary stylo of Kichard Harding Davis and Kudyard Kipling, but the name of one suggests the other, peihaps from a resemblance in their literary careers. Both names became familiar to the public at about the same time as the writers of short stories of unusual interest and originality of theme, lioth are young men, and both, as it turns out. spent years in newspaper drndgery before blooming out in the purely literary field. Doth have printed a great deal in two years, but neither is open on that account to the charge of writing too hastily, because the stories published are the result of years of work in comparative obscurity. "An Unfinished tory" by Davis, in . the current number of Harper, has a finish and a dramatic strength not shown in all his work. If this young man is able to withdraw himself sufficiently from the treadmill of iournalistio work to cultivate his talent he ias a lair prospect of becoming that novelist of the immediate future for whom the literary world is supposed to bo anxiously looking. Oar Common Roads. The subject of road-making is one that is attracting attention in many directions these days. The fact is being recognized that good common roads are as important to the development of a country as railroads, and that their betterment is a matter of national importance. In an article on the subject in Lippincottfor October John Gilmer Speed shows how far ahead of ns the great nations of Enrope are in the matter of roads. He says in conclusion: "If the road-making experiences of modern Europe teach ns in Amerioa one lesson moro than another, it is that our common roads should be taken as much as possible out of the hands of the merely local authorities and administered by either the national or the Statu governments after somo plau in accordance with scientilic knowledge and the needs of the people who use the roads. As all the people use tho common roads either directly or indirectly, it is not unfair that what is needed to be done in the matter of road improvement ahould be paid for by a general tax. All would benefit, therefore all should pay. The present condition of American roads is disgracefully bad, and entails a tax upon the people much heavier than that of the tariff of which we hear so much from the politicians. It is an indirect tax. however, and therefore many are unaware of it. To lift this tax all the people must concern themselves. The country people will not be active in the matter, lor they fear that they would have to bear all the cost of any improvements. They are not to be blumed for this, for they could not afford to do at once, or indeed in any thorough way, what is needed to be done. Nor could they take charge of the improvements: for, even if they had the inclination and the means, they lack the requisite engineering knowledge. It is quite as difficult to locate a good common road as it is to locate a railway; and no one would think of inviting a country store-keeper, a village blacksmith or a backwoods axman to lav out a railroad between l'hiladeiphia and New York; but to such as these are our our common roads and country highways now confided. The road-makers aro not to be blamed, for they do the best they know how: it is the system that is at fault, and until that be remedied our country folk will "wallow in the mire of their ways, pay excessive tolls, endure, in a word, a grinding taxation, generation after genera tion, without appreciating the burden which rests upon them.' A Literary Coincidence. A curious coincidence of plot and character appears in Mr. Howells's serial story, "An Imperative Dnty," concluded in the October Harper, and a short story in the October Century, by Matt Crim. entitled "Was It an Exceptional Case?" In each tale the heroine has negro blood m her veins, bnt is unaware of the fact until it is disclosed by an aunt who has reared her m luxury, and given her every advantage of education, 'lhe revelation comes in each case after the girl has fallen in love with a man who is ignorant of her antecedents, but, as it turns out later, has no race prejudices where she is concerned. The coincidence ends here, for Mr. Howells's hero marries the uirl after somo ditliculty in overcoming her scruples, while Miss CrrnVa young woman runs away and is only discovered by her lover five years later, lying on her bier in a hospital for colored children, where she has acted as teacher and nurse. The similarity in the stories attracted the attention of tho Century editor, who had read the early chapters of the Harper serial, ond he sent Mr. Howells advance sheets of Miss Crim's story. The novelist has written a Iett-r in reply which appears in the Critic of last week. He says: t have been extremely interested in that story of Mi.s Crim's which you hate klr.dly neat me. and hi tho very extraordinary coincidence of parts of it Tvitu my own ntnrv of Au Imperative Duty." You tell me that "tt'as it an Exceptional CascI" was written In 1:; my Rtory was imagined many year njro and actually written last year, after being tirst cast in quite a diiterent form, f o I cauuot account for the resemblance upon the princiule of telepathy, but must fall hack u pon mere blind chance, which frequently sends the same Invention In duplicate and triplicate to the 1'ateut Office. 1 aui glad you have trlven me tho opportunity to testify to the fact that Miss Crim's story w as in no possible wie suggested by mine; I do not even think that mite wa- stolen from her?. You are verv welcome to priut this letter if you believe It will preclude the question that rujiht arUo with some. A Substitute for W ha! ebon e. New York Hfrnld. "There is an industrious Gorman out m my town," sud one of the Indiana men who make the Fifth aveuue their loafing-plac, "who has invented a substitute for whalebone so far as it cnttrs into dress. Whalebone is now worth its weight in silver and grows scarcer every year. This new thing is made from bullock hides, tho oil being extracted by chemical process and the h'rie rendered as toush as a bone, lie calls it 'amber bone,' I believe, though it isn't bone at all. It is a clear, transparent amber in color, and from all 1 heur of it I should suppose it would please the ladies who can t allord real whalebone. There have been a Kood many attempts of late years to produce u substitute for whalebone, without substantial success." Melbourne's 1'oiill n. riillacUliLU llecor Melbourne wants a million from the government for his ram recipe; and if justico iHti'f ilmiH ha riini in L u tl li.i. ar - f .11 uirukjur inn rain recipe; ami u jusii t done he may make tho heavens fall.

THE BENEFITS OF TIIE BATH

Fointed Remarks About the Impropriety of Placing Tasto IJefore Decency. Shirley Dare Tells the Ladles How the Hath Should Be Used in Order to Secure the Best Results in Health and Beauty. Written for the Bnnday Journal. The first attention paid us when we enter this world and the last as life departs from us is a bath. The unwashed corpse conveys the last significanc3 of indignity and forlornness. Outside these tvo fuuetions mot mortals deal with water sparingly as possible that is to say, they wash when they feel dirty, drink when they are parched, but are unconfessedly glad to escape the necessity of either. It is hard to tell what children hate most, learning a Sunday-school lesson or taking tho Saturday batn exacted of them. It takes us much cultivation toappreciate a bath as to enjoy a painting. A country lad will find interest in looking at Veres tchngin's war pictures, but their terrible eloquence is lost upon him. Curious that in an age when conveniences for bathing ere common as street-lights there is not the most distant need of warning devout souls against too great indulgence in the pleasures of the bath, as holy church in the middle aaes fouud necessary, liathmg was allowed to the devout as sparingly as a prohibitionist would permit alcohol in collapse, and as many good reasons were alleged against the external use of water once as there are against the inward use of spirits to-day. Once upon a time a noble ladv in retreat in one of tho richest abbey a of France made up her mind to have a bath. It was objected to, with the admirable excuse that nothing existed in the house which would answer for a bath-tub. Nothing dauuted. the lively dame seized upon a large cotfer lined with metal, which would nerve for her foot bath. She had it dragged to her room, filled with water from the kitchens. and took, let us hope, a partial bath, lor alas! it leaked. Tho water ran through Moors and injured somo lino painted ceilings beneath it. People then, as now, put taste before decency. I notice that public-spirited persons, or those who mean to be such, are anxious to secure a classic pioturesqueness for the facade of tho free baths which they design to mtlict upon the public, while they overlook provisions indispensable for refinement and safety from contagion. Public gifts demand closer scrutiny than they are likely to receive, and none more than a public bathhouse. Tha bath has a Lundred benefits besides actingthepartof washerwoman in laundering our garment of skin. It refreshes by change of temperature, for man is not at his best in air over 75 degrees or below zero. Very few people know, what tho lluss and 'Finn are well aware of, that a hot bath in winter will so heat and stimulate the body as to enable it to bear cold better for days. Few understand the necessity for freehr perspiring persons of two baths daily in hot weather, to clear the nores and cool tho body, morning and night. Prostration by heat would be almost unknown if this were the habit of all classes, especially of working men who sweat copiously. Tho bath ns a means of physicial development is hardly known. A propei ly fitted bath-room in not second to a gymnasium for perfecting the body. A TltOTEST AGAINST TOO MUCH TIir.OUY. People take their baths too much by theory. The rigid disciplinarian bathes in cold water the year ro.ind as a corpo.eal and spiritual benefit and a protest against weakness of the llesh. The nervous, conscientious woman endures it, hoping to harden and strengthen horself, dreading above all things making herself tender. The injudicious parent urges her shivering children into the cold tub or the more dreadful shock of the shower-bath, never dreaming of the mischief she does. To break the constitution of a susceptible child and lay tho train for paralysis, hysteria and epilepsy, nothing is surer than a course of hardening in early youth. If the cold bath or the shower is dreaded, if there is catching of the breath and tremor as the child enters the water, empty the bath of its cold Hood and turn on the warm water till he is glad to get in and play in it. A mother would be alarmed if s child fully dressed took a chill from cold air. which lowers the bodily warmth far less than the morning chill of cold water she administers daily. If you want to give a girl a weak constitution by all means insist on tho various systems of discomfort which excellent persons consider improv ing. A woman speaking of this sort of bringing up said that in looking back to her childhood she could hardly remember ever being comfortable, as she waseithermadeto wash in cold water or weighted with too much olothing when she went out of doors, forbidden to hover round the fire for fear of getting tender, and obliged to sleep in an icy chamber for tho came reason, while diet and habits were regulated with an ingenious spirit of torture. Instead of hardening it undermined her constitution and left her ono of the most susceptible of creatures. We can breathe and move in cold air, though that is ingeniously warmed before it reacnes the skin and lungs, but I doubt if we were ever made to delight in cold water or cold weather. The coldest nations take the hottest baths, and are not enfeebled by thorn. It in blood heated by youth or the fire of full life which likes the cool dip or spray, but bow ire how you have to nerve yourself to endure it. A cold bath may bo a risky experiment. The rule that cold bathing is safe when followed by good reaction is not wholly sound. I recall a woman who used to tak baths of the coldest well water daily and find great refreshment front them, who afterwards charged weakness of the heart and general debility to this excessive stimulus. Dr. Shoemakersays all the persons he has known who boasted of breaking u film of ice to take their butba died early, 3'et doubtless they felt good reaction at the time. It is doubtful if any grown person, allowed free choiee. ever persisted in cold bathing which left a chill. It is safer to say, take a cold bath only when it is absolutely delicious in anticipation and actual cujoymeut. If you would have vigorous, fair, healthy children, make their baths a diversion, having the room and water kept so warm that they ran play in it to their hearts' content. Do not hurry them out ot it, for water is a stimulus tu growth and a tonic to muscles and nerves. Half an hour in a room heated to S0J at tho walls and freo lrom draughts and cracks, with water not allowed to fall below Ki at any time, the children permitted to get in and out of the tub and run about, to spatter and frolic, is as good a system of physical development as you can devise for all under twelve years of age. AN ANTIDOTE TO TAIn One reads with envy Mr. Lafarge's description of the Japanese habits, "a whole family father, mother, children filing down to tho big bath-room at the corner, whose windows were open," where he "heard them romp and splash and saw their naked arms shining through the steam." A bathing-garment for tho elders would satisfy all the proprieties, and we might have in our own houses the charming scenes French artists imagine from the Greek, well known by the photographs, whtre women and naked children lounge and frolic in the marble-hued, fiowerdecked pools of the spacious bathingroom. Our public and private baths are much too businesslike, and in dinjy siirroundinKA hardly moro tempting than scnllericM. Tho bath is woman's best antidote to pain, the tonic for her strength and preservative of freshness. Chrome, irreguluities and periodic attack of pain fceldom relume to yield to a cou.a of varied baths. From the time girls cuter their teens preliminary

aches and languor call for hot footbaths that are footbaths. The best foot-tub I ever saw was the three-gallon tin cans in which xeppermmt-oil comes for druggists, which allows the legs to be immersed to the' knees. Such a leg hath taken with a very warm soap-and-water sitz bath on retiring, wipiniron warm towels and getting immediately into a warm bed. with hot bricks or 6oapstones, is a hygiene which steals a countermarch on acute disorders, which ruin a girl's scholarship, good looks and comfort for years. In contradiction to nearly all doctors' advice en the subject, I say don't finish the hot bath with a cool douche or sponge in cases where there is ache or pain, however slight. Warmth is vitality and anodyne to pain. Kather have a robo of Turkish towelling to slip over the night-gown warmed for sleeping. If it leaves the girl so waim that sho can sleep with tlio window open, so much

the better for her complexion and wellbeing. Fresh air by night and day is far more wholesomely tonic than any amount of cool bathing. The first approach of malaise with girls should be signal for prompt curative practice of the kind named. This prevents the flushings and pimples, tho headaches and fractiousness of growiutr girls. When malaise wholiy disappears, or a few days after, is the time for cold sponging of the back below the waist and the hip muscles, and a finish by rubbing with alcohol or bay spirit is not at all out of tho way. Such treatment transforms girls from lumpish, awkward creatures to supple, vivacious ont s if they aro not educated to death over their books. The complexion of black, purple and livid yellow, which remind one of the colors of nightshade, disappear under this practice, and graceful carriage results from the improved elasticity of the hip and leg muscles. VALt'K OF IIKAT. Tor acute abdominal or visceral pain of whatever nature, in any age or sex, the great cure is hot fomentation, which comes under tho the head of bathing. The only limit to the heat is the endurance of the skin, and it should be increased rather than allowed to cool until the pain is subdued. Hot-water bags and bottles are a delusion. They are never hot enough and cool faster than they get heated in my experience. Besides, most heat is absorbed and exerts a prompter eftect, 60 that the lirst thing when an attack of cramp comes on. as it usually does, in the small hours, when vitality is lowest the first thing is todiDayard of heavy flannel in boiling water, wrap it in a towel, wring by its ends and apply to the skin over the pain just as hot as can be tolerated, covering with a piece of blanket and oil silk or enamelod cloth above that to keep the heat in. Have a change of flannel, and do not disturb the wrappings till you have another hot ono wrung and ready to apply. If you have to depend on dry heat keep half a dozen layers of thin manila or tissue paper over the skin, and put the water bag or hot llannel or brick over that. Tho paper holds the beat and protects the skin lrom changes too slight for notice by well persons, but which cause acute grief in attacks of pain. When face ache comes on and other relief is not near a sheet of soft paper held to the skin by a warm palm is very comforting, as it protects the skin and holds what little heat there is. Neuralgic people never ought to be without two things in their pockets, charcoal and soda tablets, to correct the acidity which causes the mischief, and some tissue paper to apply to the pain. Whilo 1 am about it I will mention from experience that a perfectly lovely treatment lor neuralgia is to brush the skin with hot melted parafiine wax, and leave the coating on as long as possible. It peels oil' very easily, and can bo used again and again, and no lotion is more exquisitely soothing. To enumerate a tithe of the variations of relief by bathing devices will convince one that bath-rooms admit of great additions to their usual conveniences. The tile-lined rooms and silver or porcelain tubs of millionaires havo nothing to recommend them but their pleasure to the eye. for the silver tab is no whit better for all purposes of holding heat than the bright tin one, and tile or marble is not half as good. Try either and you will be content to fall back on the well-polished tin, which does not chill with its stony touch. Tho bath-room ought to be light and sunny, with lloor and walls painted and impervious to moisture. A carpeted bathroom, often seen in city houses, is a nuisauce. There should be somo way of heating the room and warming towels and clean clothes on racks. The bright tub should be long enough to lie down in. and a sitz bath with a canvas seat to support the body in the water should be part of tho furniture. THE DOUCIIK INDISPENSABLE. A shower-bath is not necessary at all. but a hot and cold douche with flexible tube is indispensable. It does not givo the system one great shock like the shower, but concentrates stimulus where needed, gently or otherwise. In rheumatism, paralysis, withered limb or eczema the play of a douche for five to fifteen minutes is a most effective stimulant. I need only refer to the practice at liichfield Springs for rheumatic ails, which is a hot soak for half an hour, followed by a doncho for fifteen minutes, with incredible benefit. For women who worry about their undeveloped figures the warm douche, cooled to tepid over the bosom, is the safest treatment, and the same is true for small legs and arms, care being taken not to overdouche. Sitting with the feet in hot water while a tepid douche plays five to ten minvtctt over the loins and abdomen is right good treatmeut for various weaknesses and aches of both sexes, while a hot douche flowing down the length of the spine is sovereign for nerve ailments. One of the most beneficial devices for modern constipation rarely seen is the automatic stationary foiihtain-synnge, operated by simply turning a faucet. Deep foot-baths and a portable vapor bath finish a fairly complete outfit, the whole of which can be compassed within $100 or less, and will save endless expense and pain. liathmg is carried to a lino art in the best public establishments, which number a list of medicated baths, quinine and iron baths for malaria, oil baths and peat baths, tar baths and pine-needle baths for consumptives, and creosote baths for eruptions. Domestic practice is well equipped with ammonia, alcohol and clectrio baths, which sit) simpler than they sound. Ammonia baths, given by sponging with hot or tepid water with a tablesuoouful or two of liquid ammonia to tho gallon, are of great benefit in all disorders of acid or fetid perspiration, as in consumption, dyspepsia, tuuiora and rheumatism, for which they should be taken at least every other day. They are very agreeable if spirits of lavender or toilet-water is added to perfume it. For refreshing and keeping tin the strength tho alcohol bath, in its varieties, is supreme. if people would quit using alcohol internally and use it outside they would find more stimulus and support. 'Three fingers" of good spirits is quite enough to sponge one from head to foot, and perfumes add to its efficiency and pleasure. A tonio every woman who exerts herself should keep on hand is a bottle of the finest bay spirits, not common bay rum, but the genuine tit. Thomas distillation. It costs only $1 for a wine bottle full, which will bear much dilution and yet be strong as anything ordinarily sold. The odor is a delightful blending ot biyarado orange and Ei men to with bay laurel, and the lotion as a magic over headache from brain work and fatigued muscles, which poured, undiluted, on a spontze and inhaled it quiets the nerves and sends one to sleep. blllRLKY DaKC Why Kngllshmeu Growl. Hochestir Democrat and Chronicle. Englishmen growl whenever a new roval iicir is iiuucu 10 tue loug list or mo uueen a descendants. 1 hey are growling now about tho birth of an heir to Princess Beatrice and rnnco iienryoi uattenberg. When the time comes, liberal allowances trill hn voted as usual and quiet will reisn. The newspapers make jokes about tho newcomer and congratulate Englishmen upon the fact that the succession is not in danger. A ijennan family rules Kngland, and the Queen haa taken care to keep the tierman blood good. The (Jerman husbands of the royal princesses are in high favor with the Queen, while the poor Marquis of Lome is accorded scant courtesy. It seems neoesary for (iermans to rule in England. Otherwise Englishmen would cat each, other up.

CTnDVnttfiYT? WAU X'Q T iVV I OiUli 1 VE UiNli W UJLLAll O liU I

Sad End of a Komance That Yould Wrins Tears from a Heart of Stone. Petted Daughter of Society Moved to an Island in Salt Like with a Husband Doomed to Death and Trimmed His ColSn Herself. Bait Like Tribune. Two weeks ago a brave sonl went out a young man who had felt that he was under sentence of death for six rrevious years, from which sentence there could be no re prieve, and yet while keeping, as he has been, that death-watch upon himself, no one ever heard him complain, either of the sufferings which were rending his body or of the fate which, like a death's head, was always staring him in tho face. Uriah J. Wenner was born in llethlehem. Pa., forty-two years ago. He was of splendid stock; his brother, G. U. Wenner, is now ono of the foremost doctors of divinity in New York city. He took many honors in the schools; he graduated with honor at Yale, and with high hopes began his life work. Then tho disease, which had all the time been latent, developed, and he knew that active work in the career which he had marked out was impossible. He bought Fremont island, in Great Salt lake; he built him a home there, stocked the island with sheep, and cattle, and horses, moved his little family thero, and sat down to wait for the inevitable. The story of Mrs. Wenner's life on Fremont island is about the most patbetio story ever told on the frontier. She was born and reared in luxury; she came to this city, a bride, eleven years ago. When, five years ago, her husband decided to move to Fremont island, sho cheerfully gave up her luxurious home and went with him. Of course, sho had no neighbors. With no one but her husband and her little family around her. with a hired man and girl to assist, she lived there five years. At one time she was there two years and a half without leaving the island. IlEIt IIUBBAXD DOOMED. When, two years ago, her husband beoame too weak to ride on horseback, sho looked after the stcok herself, she attended to her house, she taught her children, she nursed her husband, and in these occupations she was busy every moment of her time. She says she was happ3 and we do not doubt it. Her husband was failing all the time, but he had been a long time ill, and she would not permit the thought of the possibility of his dying to enter her mind. So it went on until two weeks ago, when her husband said he felt more relieved than he had for months before. Of courso great prostration always follows a hemorrhage, and so he lay very weak but cheerful, and on Friday ho wanted the man who had been their faithful employe so long to take the boat, go over to Hooper and get the mail, as ho said he wanted his papers and magazines. The man, however, did not go until Saturday morning. Through the day on Friday Judge Wenner was comparatively easy. He asked his wife to read to him from their favorite books, and also to repeat to him whole poems which she knew by heart, and so tho day and night passed away. On Saturday morning he told ber what to cook for his breakfast, saying he wanted a good breakfast, but while this was in preparation she heard the signal which ho had prepared for him to make in case he needed her.. When she got to his side the fatal hemorrhage was on his lips; when sb. hastened to give him the medicine that was always given him at suoh a time, he motioned it away. Sho put her arm around his neck, drew his head on her bosom, asked him if he loved her; ho answered, "Yes," and asked her if 6ho loved him; at her "yes" he smiled, and in an instant, withouta spasm, that smile was transfixed and his soul had lied. She was there all alone. With her own hands she washed and dressed her husband's bodv, went outside and got the board herself, and stretched it upon the chairs beside the bed. The girl had such a horror of death that sho could not be induced to come into the room to help her lay her husband on the plank. THE SACRIFICE FOR, LOVE. She did it all alone, and when all was composed, she wen.t to her children, told them that their father was dead, explained to them as well as she could what death meant, took them in and showed them their father's face. They all kissed him, and knelt and prayed beside him. The day wore along, and a great stoim came npou the lake, so that it was impossible for the man to return. It had always beeu understood that two signal fires meant that slie needed help, so as the night came down she went und lighted those tfres and then took up her watch beside her dead. At intervals through the nisht she would go and replenish the fires, and so the watch went ou till daylight All that day passed away. At night she renewed the fires; and finally, at great peril, the man reached the island at 10 o'clock at night. There was no possibility to return togst a casket; so the poor woman told the man that he must, from the boards on the place, make the best box he could. The man helplessly said lie eould not, but she encouraged him, and told him she would help him. So the box was made. From the best material she had in the house she, with her own hands, lined the box and fixed a pillow for the sleeper's head. That completed, tho man dug a grave. The only services for the dead was by the wife and little children kneeling around the colhn before it was moved from the house and praying, but then what other service was needed. As best they could they got the box to the grave; the man drove stakes on one side of the grave, aud tied ropes to them; and that woman and that man lowered the body into tho grave. Then she went bok to take care of her children. The storm was so furious on the lake that it was a week before she could take her children and leave the island. What she endured through that Saturday, that Saturday night, that Sunday and that Suuday night, no one knows, no one can imagine. She did not shed a tear, 6he has not shed a tear since; she says very calmly that she tiever anticipated life with out her husband, but that now her children need what strength she has got. And she speaks of what she did as nothing at all. She says it was a pleasure to her to do the last offices; it is very much sweeter for her to think of, than it would be to think that it was performed by some oue who might have been less tender in his touch than she. And that was by a little woman who never knew what work was, or what isolation meant; who knew nothing at all about the rougher side of life until she gave her heart up to her husband and thenceforth lived only for him. A Heretic on Andrew Lang. W. B. TTarte. in NfwEjf la.od Mscazlue. I know that just now it is rank heresy to hint at such a thing, but I have had a satiety of the Andrew Earns esay. Mr. Eang writes too much, and spreads himself over a multitude of subjects, a little too thinly. There is no robustness in him. lie lacks vertebrate. He stands for no principio in literature, and though ho has an easv lluency, he is not a great stylist. He is not a Dr. Johnson or a Goldsmith, a Hazlitt or a Uagehot, an Emerson or a EowelL He is a sublimated ioumalist a fad; a very clever fellow who could emnlato Swift, aud beat him, in writing about broom-sticks, but he is but froth on the waves of these days. He is a wholesale commentator who has been mistaken for a creator. I never think of his work but I am reminded of Sheriidau's rivulet of print meandering through a meadow of margin; only iu Mr. Lang's case it is a rivulet of Mr. Lang meandering

through seas of classical quotations. He has made dilettanteism a fine art, and he

has made it pay. 1 here fore, his name should not perish, for although this is an ideal world for hnmbngs in all vocations, and even occasionally for the literary humbug. I do not recall another name in literature of whom the same thing can be said. LIVING "WITHOUT EYES. Crawling Creatures of Caverns That "e Longer If ave Sight. Kew York Telegram. There are many animals in tho world which pass all their lives in darkness, never seeing a ray of light Every one has heard cf the blind fishes of the Mammoth Cave. This cave is the biggest of 500 great caverns in the United States. All of them are inhabited by numerous othersorts of creatures that have no eyes for vision. Literally speaking, there is no such thing as a blind fish. inco the most sightless of tho finny tribe possesses visual organs in a rudimentary condition; bnt, through want of mo, the optie ganglia and nerves have broken down and been absorbed. Among the animals in these caves where Egyptian daikness ever dwells are blind crayfish, colorless, which in the water by torchlight look like white phantoms of their outdoor kind. Now and then in such places one comes acrosak a common frog, emaciated aud seemingly discouraged, which has fouud its way, how no ono knows, to the Tartarean realms. Also one discovers curious cave rats of the same color as domestic rats, but with longer bodies, like a weasel's, more developed whiskers and much bigger ears. Of bats there are multitudes in the caverns, as one might expect, inasmuch ai they are creatures of darkness. Countless numbers of them frequent the black hollows of Mammoth and Luray. There were times in the past when these vast caves were the resort cf gigantic beasts, such as the megatherium myloden, megalonyx and other huge sloth wiped out by the glacial epoch. With the tones are found those of extinct tapirs ard peccaries. Spiders of several kinds are found in tho caves. They are uuitormly small, weak and of sedentary habits. toweb do they spin, save a few irregular threads sometimes. What they live upon is rather a puzzle, though it is supposed that they catch stray mites and other such 6mall fry. Scavengers constitute a largo part of tho Sopulation of the caverns. Carniferous eetles aro plentiful, particularly in those places where parties take lunch. Such rejectamenta of tourists accumulate in spots in tho Mammcth Cave actually by cart-loads; but though there is so much, moisture, decomposition ' progresses 60 slowly that the ollal is not offensive. The processes of decay 6eem to be accomplished chieily by a few fungi. It is said that meat hung up at the mouth of one of these caverns remains fresh for a long time, and it is surmised that the bacteria which causes things to become putrid are probably rare in the underground atmosphere. No animals whatever are found in tho dry parts of tho caves. Dampness, or a certain degree of moisture, seems to be essential to their existence. Under the stones one finds white, eyeless worms, and in the damp soil around about ure to be discovered blind bcetlesin little holes which they excavate and bugs of tho thousand-leg sort. These thousand-leg bugs, which in the upper world devour fragments of dead leaves aud other vegetable debris, sustain life in the caverns by feeding upon decayed wood, fungus growths and bats' dung. Kneeling in a beaten path one can see numbers of them gather about hardenetldrips of tallow from tourists' candles. There aro plenty of crickets also. So far as the insects of the caves are con cerned, the loss of sight which they gradually undergo is 6uihciently well understood. The first step is a decrease in the number of the facets which make up thi compound eyes, with a corresponding di miui9hment of the lenses and retinse. Aftei four or five generations tho cyesbecomt useless. It would bo most interesting tc breed these or other blind creatures of tht caves in the light, so as to find out if the) would get their sight bacic. In all animaW including man, it is found that naturo tiiei ' to compensate for loss of vision by increasing the power of thesenseof touch. Thusthi nntcQn.u oi cave insects grows remarkablj long. It is very curious to find that nothing in their behavior suggests the fact that they are blind. They walk, rnn, stop, explore the ground and try to escape from the grasp of the bug hunter just as if they really saw. Tho light of a candle startles them as much as if they perceived it visually. It is a remarkable fact, proving that the ancestors of these creatures could see, that in the embryo stage of their existenco they havo eyes well developed. LINCOLN AT CLOSE RANGE. Impressions Made on a Han Who Knew the l'resldent Well Eloquent Trlbnte. Kste FieM's Washington. Fate has been kind to Col. John Hay. I envy the man who, as a student, read law in an oilice adjoining that of Abraham Lincoln. I envy him because youth is the era of impressions, and to be brought in contact with a great, rugged nature that sheds the shams of the world as Flemish gables shed rain is almost equal to a liberal rducation. Uncompromising integrity of character is tho grandest atlribute of man. Uncompromising integrity was the keynote of Lincoln's dumbly Homerio life; therefore I envy the clever man of letters who knew our martyred President wisely and well who can say of him. with as much truth hs eloquence. "Ho belonged to no church, yet he was the uncanonized saint of all chundies. He never uttered a prayer in public, yet prayers for him fastened our cause daily with golden chains around the feet of God. He wascold and ungrateful to his friends, as republics are; and yet men who never saw him thronged at his bidding the road of death aa to a festival. 1 do not wish to make a faultless monster of him; but he comas nearer than any man I ever knew or imagined to being a type of democratic republicanism incarnate' The man who can say this of Lincoln can say more, for note bow clear his judgment: "There never was a President who so little as Lincoln admitted personal considerations in the distribution of places. He rarely gave a place to a friend still more rarely because he was a friend. He had one characteristic which was often imputed to him as a fault, but which 1 think a most creditable quality he was entirely destitUvO of gratitude for political services rendered to himself. He fuled his Cabinet with enemies and rivals, and refused any reward to those energetic politicians who did so much to nomiuato him iu Chicago. This, I cannot but think, is true republicanism. The Kepublio is ungrateful. It ought to be. It is worthy of our best work without gratitude. It accepts our best services as heaven accepts our prayers, not becauso either needs them, but because it is good for us to serve and to worship." A northwest wind is not more bracing and invigorating than this glimpse of Lincoln's fidelity to pnblio interests, than this original and just interpretation of the ingratitude of republics. Ilen II u tier's Grandmother. New England Magazine. I was literally adopted by my grandmother, ray grandfather having died several years before. She was a very remarkable-looking woman, who stood about lire feet eleven inches in her stockings. She was then in the neighborhood of eighty years old, and walked with a stick, yet she was as erect as ever. She alto taught mo fully to understand her politics, which, so far as I could understand it, were that there ought not to be nny kings, princes, barone. nobles or knight. She never s.ud anything against aristocrats, and my memory of her now is that if ever there was a high-priestess of tho aristocracy she was one, and especially did she dilate upon the fact that her faniily. the Cilleys. Vas the best in the State. Can any one doubt where I learned my political status: Democratic politics in government and personal aristocracy! A Chip of the O. It. Detroit Free Tree. There is a rrinter ia this town whose littlo son in the public schools is likely to follow in his father's footsteps. The other day tho natural history class w as up. "What tjpe of man is the lavef" inquired the teacher. "Minion," answered the toy promptly, and then wanted to lick the teacher becauso the accuracy of the answer was questioned.

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