St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 10, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 September 1892 — Page 2

^womans Influence

jiiloli-' CHAPTER Xll’—Continued. She bent he r head, pretending to examine the gleaming stones, but raised it immediately, to say rather slowly: “Teil me what you wish most, and you shall have it.” Brian gave a questioning glance at her half-averted face. He hesitated, but only for a second. The next he had caught ner in his arms, and holding her against his beating heart he pressed a long, passionate kiss upon her passive lips. She made not the slightest resistance, though her face had grown very white. He laid his own interpretation upon this sign, “You are angry,” he said, allowing her to go at last. “No, no, not angry; that was your Christmas gift.” She spoke with an effort and once more fell to admiring her pin. Brian watched her with a longing she felt rather than saw. To avoid his eyes she drew her chair closer to the fire and buried her head in its cushioned back. “It is odd,” remarked Brian, after an awkward pause. “I think the world would smile to know that a husband is only permitted to kiss his wife on Christmas day.” “Some other time we will talk of that, Brian. Not now. It will only stir up old discords.” “There is always the shadow of discord between us,” was the answer given with a sigh. “Heaven knows I should like to be a different man; but as I must be what I am, why can we not be happy together?" “Are you unhappy?” “You know I am. What pleasure can you find in hearing me say so? You know your love is the one thing I long ! for. Yet you will kill ’-ourself in the interest of others, while .w me ” । He paused with a passion more elo- I quent than words. Margaret could not' reply immediately. A strange, nervous j weakness benumbed her faculties, and j she waited for a stronger moment w 1 answer his reproaches. “You speak unjustly,” she said at last, ! with great effort. “I do not take pleasure in your unhappiness. If ycu knew how utterly exhausted I am, you would spare such remarks. They pain me. I —I can’t Lear them now.” She had risen from her chair with the ! last words, and With sudden trembling swayed as though she would faint. , ‘ Margaret! ’ he cried, catching her in his arms, “tell me the trouble.” “lam only tired,” was the answer, i with a half sob as her head rested for a ; ' second on his shoulder. “Only very , - ' ’ - ' 7; ,

“I have been a brute,” he re.oined, < penitently. “I should have seen you ( were ill. Let me do something for you, darling." “Oh, no, Bran; I thank you. I shall ; be better when I have slept. I need . only that, I think. I must say goodnight now.” With a sigh he let her go from him, and she moved away unsteadily, but coming back under the impulse of an after-thought, she said, very slowly: “Brian, won’t you try to beiieve that want to see you happy and contented, and that I try very hard to make you so? If I am not a better woman it is not because I do not strive to be.” “No more,” cried Brian, w.th much warmth. “Margaret, you hurt me. Not to win your love, but to be worthy of it, that should be my ambition. You are too good for me, I Good-night.”

CHAPTER XIV. । A BITTER REVELATION. The old year died amid the festivities j incident to the season, and the new year । was already a week old; but st.il Mar- J garet had not regained her old-time spirits. ; Brian was at first anxious and then ; annoyed. It was too bad of Maigaret ; to look so pale and thin, when he, liked i to see her strong and well. Thus he ar- ; gued with man’s sublime selfishness. j “I wish you would tell me what is the ' matter with you, ” he said, rather sharply, at br akfast one morning. “You say you feel strong. You will not allow me to prescribe for you, nor will you see Dr. | Philips; and yet you go around looking like a ghost. I can’t understand it.” “There is no necessity for trying. Brian. I was never rosy in my best days, and people often grow thin from very simple causes. Will you pass me a roll, please?”

“You need not try to deceive me,” put j in Brian, complying with her request. | “It is well enough to talk of being pale ! : and growing thin from simple causes. I । know there is a reason for your indispo- < sition. The place is dull enough, dear i knows. I think you might try to be I cheerful, if only for my sake.” Margaret’s lips twitched. Her temper | had been tried by several circumstances ’ that moin'ng, and now Brian’s com- j plaints capping the climax, put her in a mood for retaliation. • ■ “I wish you had thought of the dull- : ness before you married me,” she retorted with the bitterness that filled her ' breast. 1 “I suppose you are angry now. I i know you’ll drive me mad. I wish I . could hate you.” j “Don’t quarrel, please. I don t tme ; it. If you do not find sufficient to in- ’ forest you at home, it is not my fault, and I will not bear the blame.” I Her eyes flashed as that determined will passed her lips. . , “Are you going to the city again? “Yes to-morrow. I can’t stand more than a little of this life at a time.” | “Nor of my company,” added Margaret, rather bitterly. _ ” You are com- j plimentary, decidedly.” | “As to standing your company, Mar- ( caret, you know my feeling perfectly well. It is of the place, not you, I corn- . plain. What under heaven can a sane man do here?” , v , , “What can he do tn the city? Mhat do you do there?” Margaret asked this quest.on very quietly.

"What can one do?" repeated Brian, ignoring the personality. “Bather ask: । What can’t he do? New York life is so . flex ble, my dear, that it bends to every caprice. Wonderful and accommodating both. There’s pleasure for everybody. A thousand amusements to fill up one’s tims. Ask a Gothamite how he enjoys himself and hear his answer.” “Then from your account I am to assume that enjoyment is the end and ' aim of his existence. I think your Gothamite’s life would not suit me.” “Not if you hold your present principles, certainly. Really, Margaret, you are a most self-opinionatod young woman, and I’d be delighted if you won!d drop one cr two of your theories by the wayside." । “I dare say it would be as well,” was . । the answer; “they could not fall on more t ; barren soil than your unappreciative I mind offers.” b I Say philosophical lather than unap- । preciative. You must admit that I have i reason on my side. Show me the bene- . fit of working one’s self to death, when k j there is no necessity for it. You only , see the surfa e, Margaret, but I go deeper. ” I “On the contrary,” smiled Margaret, I “you see only the surface, while I look i deeper. You hok only at the need of I money, but I see a hundred effects in । which money has no part. Necessity is I a very accommodating term, and has a | different shade of meaning for different people. As for working one’s self to | death, I m afraid that is also an accom--1 modating term. A lazy man might consider the slightest exertion a step toj ward that lamentable end. “I suppose I am that lazy man?” | “I shouldn’t be at all surprised. And, I setting joking aside, Brian, I do think that no man has a right to do nothing. Lounging about day after day, with no higher ambition than to amuse one’s ■ self would, it seems to me, make a man or woman (more particularly a man), . tire I of himself. Now, don’t look at ; me with that expression, please. I don’t ; want to be a shrew, or a preacher, I either. I detest everlasting preachers, j and I don’t intend to be one. Nevertheless, I wish to gracious you’d find something to do, and have a better I reason for going to New York than your present one, which is—well, not particularly creditable.” i Margaret’s voice broke slightly, but she tried to hide the momentary weak- 1 , ness by sipping her coffee. Brian s face had flushed very visibly i at her allusion to the reason of his visits I to the city and he, too, went on eatin" I in silence.

I “Margaret,” he said, presently, “if you । have any old men or women who need doctoring call me in and I’ll show you what I can do. I’m oretty fair, not- । withstanding my want of practice. “Very well, Brian, be prepared for an early call. It is not your ability I i doubt, though. ” As he had said, Brian went to New Y ork the next day. “I shall be back in a day or so,” he told Margaret on bidding her good.-by. “Y'ou may expect me. ’ Margaret did expect him, but she was disappointed. 8 P a33e fl > and after his first letter she heard' no more from him. S! ' V I*?. ■ ■ f —ri I I

nvmeu anu anxious, though even to herself she would xiof; aoknowl- j edge her alarm. She did not dream of bodily harm. I Intelligence of such a mishap would have reached her quickly. Yet in some intangible way she felt that he was :n danger and needed her. In cases like this philosophy is of l little avail. To tell herself that this or I that was impossible, that Brian was merely forgetful and indifferent, augmented rather than relieved her fears. To relieve her mind she role over to The Cedars to see and talk with Alice; but upon reaching her destination she was told that Alice had left the house with the intention of returning in a short ! time. j As she had the afternoon at her disI posal, Margaret decided to wait; so she ; found her way to the small room adjoining the library and seated herself in a

lounging chair. The house was very ( ' silent, and the room unusually warm, I ; and as a consequence Margaret, becom- I ing rather drowsy, was soon quite un- j । conscious of her surroundings. How long she remained so she did not ! know, but presently she was aroused i ! by loud voices raised in some alterca- ' tion. At first they were rather indis- I ; tinct and seemingly put part of a dream. . i “Very well, sir, go to the devil for all ; I care.” ; ■ “The Colonel’s voice,” Margaret decided, still unable to shake off the im- j ! pre s don of dreaming i “What’s the good of your cdu cat’on, I’d like to know?” the voice continued. : “Do you imagine I gave you the oppor- ' tunity of reading law for you to give it up when you grew tired? No, sir! This idea of writ’ng that’s turned your head is only another name for doing nothing. ' Confound me! I believe you want to be like that d scoundrel, Leigh ” I Margaret started. Was this dream-

ing? “You are mistaken,” came the answer in Bertie’s voice. “I have no desire to emulate Brian in any respect. Please credit me with some consideration for Alice.” „ “If you didn’t show more for her than he does for his wife, I’d shoot you with my own hands. He ought to be hung, the scoundrel! Leaving his wife as he has been doing, allowing his domestic affairs to be the talk of the neighborhood and her name to become the subject of discussion with every vulgar gossip in the place, and he gaiivanting ; around the city like a loafer, lounging in i clubs mornings, noons, and nights, and ' drunk at that. Beale saw him the other 1 day lying on the club house steps, too i drunk to move. And Margaret has J thrown herself away on such a creature. Don’t get so excited, you say? Do you ' think lam made of stone? Do you | think I can talk quietly and calmly 1 when I remember her? Why in the name of heaven do such men have I wives? Why in the name of a just i heaven should she have such a husband? I And why in the name of the devil don’t some one shoot or hang him? i Margaret had heard all —every word. ; the Colonel’s high-pitched denuncia--1 tions, Bertie’s lower but not less em--1 photic ones, and now she could hear the ‘ Colonel angrily pacing the library, his 1 regular rapid steps seeming to keep l time with her quick heart beats. No this was not dreaming, ohe was fully’ awake. And cr.uching down in her chair she pressed her hands over i her eyes as though she would shut from

her sight the shame and disgrace th .A was actually touo*»ng her life. Why had it never occur ed to her before? Why had she not ^messed that, whi’e she passed her thoughtless, unthinking days in the safety of her own home, he was following a path of ruin amid the gilded temptations of New York? How much of the blame would He at her door, and what would be the end? Ah! those bitt r questions, with their more bitter possibilities! Before her mind rose the memory of a solemn moment and the never-forgot-ten words: “Don’t forget Brian. Be good to him for my sake. ” Did she need such memories to make her realize that now as never before his future, his destiny rested in her hands? She could not sit here and wait quietly for Alice nor could she be found here by either Bertie or the Colonel. She must leave the house unobserved if possible. Alas! it was not possible. Scarcely had she reached the hall than Bertie, leaving the library at the same moment, came suddenly upon her. "Margaret,” he said, starting at sight of her. “You here? I did not know. You are in trouble. You are ill. Tell me.” “Heart-sick, Bertie, only heart-sick,” she returned, with a half-sobbing breath, while she caught at the door for support. “I came to see Alice. She is out; I cannot wait longer.” "You have been waiting then,” he questioned, quite bewildered by h r sfrange manner. “Margaret,” he added. with sudden revation, “you ’heard.” “Yes,” she answered, lowering her eyes before his p.tying glance. “I was in there and I hoard all. I did not know before.”

I “Poor child," ho said, with unusual gentleness. “If Brian could only see you now. I wish I could have told you Joss abruptly. It was cruel. Father I will be so sorry. Let me bring him | hero. He might comfort you, MarI garet." Margaret smiled sadly, an I leaned i rather heavily against the stairway. “No, B rile, no one can do that. It is impossible, impossible. 1 think his sympathy would be very hard to bear ; now. Don’t pity me. Advise me. I feel so helpless. Have you known —long? AV hy has God sent me this — this trouble:” It was hard for Bertie to meet this Inquiry calmly. “Not for any di eert of yours,” he said, rather huskily. "You ask me if I have known long. I’m afraid I must say yes. The first time I saw Brian not himself—l am hurting you.” “No. Go on, please. Tell me all. It ' can make very little difference now.” "I was surprised and shoe < . I thought of you and I talked to Drtan. He promised to do better. I believe he intended to, and I think he tried, but his resolutions are weak and easily broken. Do you remember the day I m> t you in the road and you remarked upon my long face? It was the day before Brian left on this last visit. I dreaded the result for him, and I determined to tell you all and let your persuasions influence him. But, Margaret, when I saw your face my heart failed me, and I allowed the opportunity to slip. Yet you can remember how earnest I was jn begging you to use your influence to keep Brian at home. Here the temptation st e i s to have no power over him. I think your presence mu st ■ be the cause. Unfortunately, though, ! he loves the allurements of city life. And you arc not there.” , “No, but 1 shaft Ju", 111 , “Tlmnk you^or showing'meTfm wiuv.” "It is so little to thank me for," he i returned, sadly. "I wish I could do a i thousand times more for you. If Brian ' is not content to stay with you at Elm- | wooe, the next best tiling is for you to I be with him in New York. It will be a gain for him, but leaving your home will be a heavy sacrifice for you. Do you fell called upon to make it?” He looked kindly in her face, but he found no hesitation there. , "A hum red tin es, if necessary, she respom el. "I ha I not thought of that part, and I cannot speak of it yet. A) ill you see that John brings my horse? And remember me to Alice and your lather,

please.” “Keep ip a brave heart, he said, as helped her on her horse a few moments later, “and don’t forget me if you need a iriend, though heaven grant you never may.” Margaret nodded. She could not speak, and pressing her hand with sympathetic warmth, Bertie watched her ride away, and then went in to recount to his father all that had passed between them. This served to in reasetheold gentleman’s indignation at vhat he called Brian’s despicable conduct. While Bertie talked he paced the room, alternately praising Marg iret, whom he loved like a daughter, and condemning Brian, who, in his estimation, had been false alike to the highest principle of mrnhood and to the honor and respect due to his wife. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

Imitation Mountain. Just now, at the office of the Geological Survey, they are engaged in building imitation mountains, for the purpose of studying the way in which the eternal hills were formed by the crumpling due to the contraction of tne earth’s crust. The coal basins and other valuable mineral deposits in many parts of the United States hare undergone just such crumpling, so that it shall resemble in consistency the brittle rocks near the surface of the earth or the plastic rocks which are in that condition because of the great pressure that exists even at depths of only two or three miles, as the case may be. The mixture is cast in layers of a given thickness by melting and flowing it in a wooden trough. When each layer has hardened it is taken out, and a number of layers thus made are superimposed one upon the other like layers of jelly cake, representing geological strata. The next process is to place the layers in a machine, piling shot on top of them to represent the force of gravity, after which pressure is applied from the ends very slowly by a piston advanced with a screw. This causes them to crumple up, and under the artificial contraction they are found to take precisely the forms of mountain ranges like the Alleghanies. Mexico’s Cathedral. The cathedral in the City of Mexico is the largest in America, and cost nearly $2,000,000.

The Streets of rekin.’ The town is always most animated. At certain hours of the day the streets are as crowded with foot passengers, riders on horseback, atid carriages as those of London or of Paris. There is plenty to interest and amuse the spectator: Tartar carts and Chinese chaises, blue or green sedanchairs, the color varying according to the rank and importance of the owner; grooms of the palace in yellow livery, couriers of the Emperor in yellow and black uniforms, long strings of camels belonging to Mongol caravans, condemned prisoners wearing or carrying their cangues, etc., etc.; and on either side ot the carriageway, under shelters or in the open air, musicians and jugglers, mountebanks and necromancers, public scribes, secondhand booksellers, old-clothesmen, furniture brokers, cobblers, and har-ness-makers, barbersand chiropodists, cooks and pastry cocks, sellers of fruit and tea merchants; in a word, every variety of itinerant dealer, re-| suiting in an infinite variety of : bright and picturesque scenes. Or a ' wedding procession marches down the street, with its band, its lanterns, its banners, its parasols, the attendant servants in gala costumes, and the bride carried beneath a red canopy. Or perhaps a funeral cortege of apparently endless length, with its flute-players and song-beaters, its in-cense-burners, its Buddhist priests chanting litanies, its mourners making grimaces and howling, succeeded I by a long string of vehicles laden ' with all the things supposed to be necessary to the defunct in the life beyond the tomb; behind which come the relations and friends of the deceased, clad in white hair-cloth: and, last of all, borne on the shoulders of sixteen, twenty, or thirty hired assistants, the huge catafalque itself, loaded with gilded sculpture, and hung'with beautifully embroidered blue silk hangings. The filth of the street is yet an-i other element of the picturesque. No ; description could possibly give an idea of it. Dust two feet deep, or lakes of mud, and at every turn i heaps of refuse, tor which half-naked ' beggars are fighting with many dogs; j every conceivable smell, and every! conceivable variety of rubbish, no police, and no drainage!—Harper's Weekly.

Foreign Paper Money. The Bank of England note is five inches by eight in dimensions and is printed in black ink on Irish linen, water-lined paper, plaid white, with ragged edges. The notes of the Banque de France are made of white, water-lined paper, printed in blue and black, with numerous mythological and allegorical pictures, and running in denominations from the twenty-franc note to the one thousand franc. South American currency, in most countries, is about the size and general appearance of American bills, j except that cinnamon brown and slate ■ VIAVt .AD?...the r,revailing colors, and enemved. on Ute lace. | The German currency is rather] artistic. The bills arc printed in green and black. They run in denominations from live to one thousand marks. Their later bills are printed on silk fibre paper. The Chinese paper currency is in | red, white and yellow paper, with gilt lettering and gorgeous little hand-1 drawn devices. The bill, to the ordinary financier might pass for washing bills, but they are worth good money in the Flowery Kingdom. Italian notes are of all sizes, shapes and colors. The smaller bills —live I and ten lire notes —are ’printed on i white paper in pink, blue and carmine । ! inks, and ornamented with a linely- ' engraved vignette of King Humbert’ i The one-hundred rouble note of ! Russia is Barred from top to bottom ! with all the colors of the rainbow, I blended as when shown through a | prism. In the centre, in bold relief, stands a finely executed vignette of the Empress Catherine L This is in black. The other engraving is nut at all intricate or elaborate, but is well done in dark and light brown and black inks. The Australian bill is printed on light-colored, thick paper, which show's none of the silk fibre marks or geometric lines used in American currency as a protection against counterfeiting.

Swimming Power of Trout. We sat for an hour or more, a few , evenings ago, on the east bank of the ! Beaverkill at Eocklani, says the I American Anglei for July, and I watched the trout of that celebrated [ river passing over the dam, which is I nearly three feet high, with about a four-inch volume of water pouring I over it. The trout ranged in size ; from ten to eighteen inches, and during the time we sat there at least ; twenty managed to get over. In i many instances a first attempt failed, [ owing, however, more to an apparent I want of judgment, or perhaps of ex- ! perience, than from lack of physical I ability in the fish to accomplish the j feat, the smaller fish, as a rule, fail- | ing to get over in the first effort. But few of the larger fish made a clean jump into smooth water above the ' apron of the dam; most of them passed perpendicularly up the falling ! waters and with apparent ease. These ! fish were enabled to swim straight up this downpour of the waters by the great muscular power they possessed: there was no trick, no slight of hand about it—it was pure strength of body, which is evidently centered in the peduncle or tail and the tail tin. They actually sculled their bodies up this comparatively dense mass of water. The query naturally arises: If a ten inch trout can swim up such a fall, what is tin capacity of a salmon of forty inches under similar conditions? What we saw the trout do has never before, so far as we

I know, been placed on record, and ft establishes a fact from which greater swimming power should be assigned to the salmonid® than has been given them by previous observers. Forests in Kussia and America. A European student of forestry has been considering the effects of the removal of forests in Southern Russia. Their immense growths once lined the banks and guarded +he sources of the Volga, the Don, ae Dneiper and other rivers, insuring a lull perennial flow. But a spirit akin !to the “enterprise” which has destroyed wide forests and desolated broad areas in the United States has devastated the Russian wilderness and left a wilderness of different character. The result as seen in the great rivers is deplorable. “The ‘Mother Volga’ grows yearly shallower; the steamers find scarcely seven or eight I feet of water in midstream; and the i ferries persue their snake-like course I from band to bank in search of the I ever shifting channel The Don with its tributaries is choked; the sources iof the Dneiper creep downward and ; its chief tributary, the once noble AVorskla, with a flow of some 220 English miles, is now dry from source to mouth. The exhauston of the springs indicates that this river will not reappear. The Bitjug, a river in the Don region, has likewise disappeared; “valley and bed are filled to । the banks with sand and earth.” Aci cording to a Russian writer a great part of the country is threatened j with the heat and aridity of the Central Asian steppes. As long ago as ISSO, shortly after a famine in Russia, the effect of deforostation in the country about the Donez was complained of. No attention was paid to the complaint. Deforestation went on; streams and springs dried up: spring and summer rains began to fall, and their cessation, says a Russian publication, is the cause of the failure of last year’s harvest in Russia. The Russian Government is waking up, too late, perhaps, to restore the trees except at an enormous expense and after a long period of labor and waiting. That which has occurred in Russia and other European countries, changing fruitful regions to deserts, is going on in the United States. Let us not plunge our heads deep into conc it and optimism, assuring ourselves that the laws of nature have no force in America.—Syracuse Standard. Needed no Lessons, A strong instance of inherited taste and aptitude is cited by Mr. Morley Roberts in his “Land-Travel and SeaEaring.” lie was in Australia, in “the land of sheep,” and had a collie pup, which he named Boson. lie was only two months old when I took him with me to btrathavon, and until then he had never beheld a sheep at close quarters. For three or four days I kept him tied up close to my tent, but on the fourth dav he got away, and followed ■mabout one I On reaching them, I found 1 had left my fence tools behind, and I rode back after them, Sancho following. I did not notice that Boson remained behind. AYhen I came back in a few minutes I saw. to my surprise, that the rams had not spread out to feed, but were bunched in a close mass.and that the outer ones were following the motions of something which I ' could not see, but which they evidently feared. I reined in my horse, waved back Sancho, and watched. Presently I saw wooly little Boson, who certainly was no bigger than the head < f the least of the rams, paddling nmnd and round the circle in a quiet, businesslike manner. I remained motionless, and watched to see whether he was doing it by accident: but no, he ma te his rounds again and again, and as he did so, the huge-horned rams followed ■ him with their eyes. It was with much difficulty that I enticed him home, and. from his air. i I have no doubt he would have gone ion circling his self-imposed charge ■ until his legs failed him.

Webster’s Opinion. In the year 1840 the locomotive was a small, weak machine that was employed to drag a few coach-like cars at a speed of about ten milesan hour. Then the directors and stockholders of railroads constituted the meekest, class of citizens, very different from the dictatorial, influential class of the present.

Daniel Webster, in describing the American railroad of that time, said, “They are made of two stringers of scantling,notched into ties thatoften get loose in the ground. Upon the stringers two straps of iron, the width and thickness of wagon-tires, are nailed. ‘•These straps of iron frequently get detached at the ends, which turn up like snakes’ heads, and pierce the floors of the cars.” Such an accident actually happened to a car between Elizabeth and New York. “Then,” said Webster, “the wheels slip on the iron straps, in winter especially, so much that no dependence ! can be placed upon the time of arrival, and many people think it is not j certain that railroads will be a success.” A Tarpon’s Last Flop. A. C. Frieske of Floral Bluff, Fla., while going to church Sunday to New i Berlin in a steam launch, had his i meditations rudely aroused by a tre- : mendous tarpon jumping into the ; boat and playing havoc for awhile I with all the movables. So powerful- ■ ly did the big fish struggle that it was believed that the boat would be swamped Finally the fish became i exhausted and Mr. Frieske carried ! him home in triumph. He measured I 5 feet G inches and weighed 90 pounds.

Shooting: Stare. Doubtless the falling of mrolites, shooting stars, and meteoric showers have been witnessed by the people in all ages of the world’s history. Holy Writ has recorded that “signs and wonders” have an 1 will appear in the heavens from the day of Adam until, time shall be no longei. It is not our purj ose at this time to speak of the appearing of such phenomena of “ancient days,” but to notice a few of the meteor;- showers of modern times. In the year 1799, on the night ot November 12-13, there was a mvteoric shower that extended north of the equator over North America. Labrador, Greenland,across the Atlantic and into Germany. As there were no railroads or telegiaphs the full extent of the shower was not known until the following February. In the north-western portion of the United States the display was delightful. On the night of November 12-13, DIS, England was visited with a meteor;c shower of great brilliancy. Three things were noticeable at the time—the rapidity with which the meteors fell, the exceedingly dark blue color of the sky, and the soft, melodious sound that was heard in the firmament, as of the wind blowing softly from the east to the west. In the year 1831. on the night of November 12-13 a most beautiful meteoric shower appeared in England, which extended across the Atlantic and over the United States. In Liverpool the display was exceedingly grand. Vessels arriving in New A ork and Liverpool, the officers reported that at sea the display was most beautiful, that generally the passengers were composed, and locked-"" upon it with supreme delight.giving thanks to the God of the heavens tor the manifestations of His wonderful works.

But nothing in the history of meteoric showers has ever equaled that of 1883, on the night of November 12-13. It was visible all over the United States, Mexico, and the AA'est India Islands, intermingled with fireballs which darted forth at intervals, leaving behind luminous trains which remained in view from five to thirty minutes. In North Carolina one was seen which appeared as large and of greater brilliancy than the moon. In Indiana another, not so large, was seen emitting most beautiful streams of red and while lights. Nothing in the history of meteoric showeis—so brilliant, so grand, so sublime—was ever before beheld by man. Never shall we forget, as we looked upward and beheld the firmament descending in fiery torrents over our beloved land, the home of the brave and the land of the free. It appeared as if the heavens were on fire. The impressions made upon the minds of the people were varied. The educated and intelligent looked upon it with supreme„,d4AigM . uneducated and unintelligent viewed as colored people onlj’ can pray—■ thinking that Gabriel was about to blow the trumpet call “Come to judgment.”

California’s Mysterious Cavern. On the north side of Table Mountain and near its top is an opening in the lava that has since its early days been known as ‘-the lion’s den.’’ It was so named from the fact that for years it was the lair of a band of ferocious California lions that, when the country was largely devoted to sheep-raising, made mighty depredations upon the flocks and caused the owners much annoyance and loss. When pursued the animals would seek refuge in this den and no hunter would dare to enter it. The ground about the entrance was covered with bonesand remnants of sheep and other animals. With the increase of population the lions have - gradually disappeared, although as late as lastspring two of the animals were seen to enter the cave, The Oroville Mercury says no known man has ever penetrated this cave to its fullest depth. The mouth is about four or i live feet high and three feet wide and i the opening descends with a sharp incline for about 200 feet. Further than this it has never been explored. Now, however, a party of young men have made arrangements to explore it, and, if possible, penetrate to its bottom. That it is of great depth is certain, for one can stand at the opening and heave great stones down the declivity and the sound will gradually die away in the distance. The young men have procured several hundred feet of rope, torches and ladders and will thoroughly explore the cavern.

What adds a peculiar interest to the expedition and gives zest to the explorers is the well-known fact that in the heyday of his career as a bandit Joaquin Murietta and his band of faithful followers made the recesses of Table Mountain the base of their operations in this section. From there they would swoop down on the miners, and then, laden with gold dust, retreat to the mountaiuxSearch as they might, the officers could not locate them. It has been supposed by many this same cave was where the famous outlaw secreted himself. It may be, too, that deep down in the bowels of the earth Joaquin hid the greater portion of his ill-gotten, but nevertheless just as potent wealth. Giving Is Getting. M we seem to be sacrificing things mtMt precious to us we a^e often receiving them back in some imperishable form. When we seem to be working solely for others wears often serving ourselves in the highest and noblest way.—Christian Union-