Walkerton Independent, Volume 24, Number 49, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 June 1899 — Page 2

! ‘MM®f j n <7 xV, IMJrm b1 1 r w -^piy^iliaimry-j&^jl^^ yiM- L, jmj' «SBBZ^==m^» t — r—-fry * | THE DUEL ON THE | j : : : MOUNTAIN. : : : lv*vr\'>v>v»\,»v>v,»v>vrv»v.»t»>^».i»v»v»v»!'

©URING a visit to Ireland, I was one of a very jovial party at the hunting lodge of my cousin, Mr. Farrel, whose generous and social disposition was well known in the neighIborhood of "Hollow Glen.” ’ It was in September; the shooting season had just set in. and the entire party, with a single exception, and that myself, was composed of Irish gentlemen devoted to the gun. Among those assembled was Capt Conan, who, I learned during the conversation of the evening, was about leaving in a few days to join his wife and daughter, then at Castlerock. Unrestrained by the society of the fair sex, we enjoyed ourselves exceedingly, and indulged rather freely in the contents of our host’s wine cellar. The last thing I remember of that night is my making an effort to respond to ”our visitor." The next I knew was. when aroused by the cheery voice of Jemmy O'Neill, my cousin's man-of-all-work, I found myself on the sofa in the smoking-room, whither I had been carried some hours before. "Here's a letter for ye, sir,” said Jemmy. ‘‘All right,” I replied, rea hing my hand for it. He gave me the letter, then left the room. I felt I must have slept a long time, as the sun was streaming in at the windows; and, as the light seemed to aggravate my headache, I merely glanced at the superscription, and, laying the letter on a chair, proceeded to draw down the blind. My next thought ’vas to take a bath; but, seeing the letI turned from the window, 1 con e<l I would read it first. thr^^ lnto a cba ’ r ar >d tore open. WhM° 8 lbe eave ^°P e on the table, begin- V&S surprise on seeing it "My Belova H as b and » The next insuwx Capt. Conan walked in and passed me in direction of the tireplace. As he did so,^ ~5 „ the letter. "You miserable, ill-bred puppy!" he exclaimed. "How dare you have the impudence to open my letters':' snatching it rudely from my hand as be spoke.

Smarting under his insulting words. I sprang up and replied: “In justice to myself, I deny having opened your letter intentionally. Further,’’ continued 1. trembling with passion, “you prove yourself ill-bred and no gentleman by your vile language,” “What!” he screamed; “no gentleman, do you say?” Retract instantly, sir! Refuse at your peril:’ and he advanced with uplifted arm. "I never retract,” cried I; “but I repeat—no gentleman would speak as jou do.” aU-' • say you shall, though, else I’ll choke the life out of you.'” springing toward me as he spoieHow this would have terminated I know not, for at this moment Mr. Farrel rushed into the room in time to catch him ere he reached me. “Hold, Capt. Conan!” cried Mr. Far- j ret “Mr. Morton is here as my guest. | and as such I consider it my duty u> [ protect him from violence. The captain seeded to see the justice of this observat^p* hut bis fury was not abated. Turning to my cousin, he said; “i^rhnr® ' ou a ’ so consider it,

yonf duty to teach him some manners. b ad the impudence to open a letter addr essed to me, and instead of offer- ■ jug apology, added to his misbenavior by saying I was no gentleman Here is the envelope,” taking it from the table, “plainly addressed to me. and I caught him in the act of reading its contents.” “However that may be,” replied mv cousin, “as a relative and friend of mine, I demand that you treat him as a gentleman.” “Out of respect to you and as your relative, he shall be treated as a gentleman,” replied the captain, hotly. “So I trill begin by demanding an apology from him for opening my letter: also for saying I was no gentleman, and that he shall retract that remark.” “Regarding the letter,” said I. “I will say I opened ft by mistake for my own. Regarding the remark. I shall not retract it, and repeat—no gentleman would use your language, and not apologize for so doing. It is from vou an apology is due. and. if given, will be * accepted.” “Enough,” said he. “Mr. Farrel S(Vs you area gentleman. 1 i; < ~ ~ him either right or wr. ■. : by . you as one during th- day.” an 1 lie c.m. u .. the house without another wo: 1 “A duel without doubt.” said mv cousin; “nothing less will satisfy him. How did this all happen?” I tht told my cousin h>w the mistake had taken place. I left my letter on the chair and bad taken up the captain's. which Jemmy bad left there for him, believing it to be my own. On learning what the captain had said to me, be thought me very moderate in my resentment of the insult, and agreed with me that it was from the captain an apology as due “The devil of it is,” said he, “the < np. tian is such a good shet he generally pops his man every time.” “Pops his man!” said I “What do you mean?” “I mean that he will challenge you to a duel, and if you de not accept it I must, for I demanded that you be treated as a gentleman. But come,” he continued, "and set- what John has In the dining-room for us; for my part, I feel as though a dozen of port would not quench my thirst.” While discussing our wine, a messenger came with a note addressed to m “From the captain. I’ll bet:” said try cousin. "You must go it my boy.” 1 opened the seal and .•ad as dlvws

“Horace Morton. Esq.—Sir: Capt. Conan has selected me to arrange a meeting between you and him. that the affair of this morning may be honorably settled. Have a friend, for you, to communicate with me during the day. Yours respectfully, “Robert Sinclair.” “Sinclair, as I live!” said my cousin, when 1 showed him the note. “Just as hot-headed as the captain himself. What are you going to do, Horace?” “Do?" said I. "What can I do?” “Why, tight or apologize.” ; “Fight by all means, then,” said I. “I’ll never retract.” ; “Who will act as your friend in this - matter?” e “You, I hope. I know no one else I could ask.” t “Very well. I shall proceed direct to i Mr. Sinclair. Have you any instruc , I tions.” “None whatever, except the request that you will arrange the affair to come off soon; to-morrow, if you possibly can.” My cousin departed on his mission, while I, to calm the turbulent feelings of my mind, took a walk along the base of the mountain. My mind was filled with the most gloomy forebodings, nor could 1 banish the thought of my lamentable fate—coming to Ireland on a visit of pleasure, to be shot down by an angry gentleman. I was roused from these gloomy reflections by the sound of a rapidly appreaching carriage. I looked up and saw » hnrse and carriage come tearing at breaknv vv speed down the mountain road. "What reckless u. l htl The only occupant m carria ., P was a young and beautiful K ” ' ing wildly the seat in front of . ' knowing the moment she might 1 dashed down one of the chasms of the ■ mountain side. The anguish depicted on her sweet countenance went directly . to my heart, and I resolved to make an effort to save her. • Why should i hesitate,”-thought I. , ! “when to-niorrow I may fall a prey to ' • the captain's bullet?” . I On came the frightened horse, and f when within a few yards of me 1 in-

stlactively felt a desire to get out of the way; but a glance at the fair being in danger nerved me to the effort, and I threw myself with all my strength on the bridle-rein. But what was my strength compared with the force that / *7—— C" ‘ ' - x — / - ... y ---• & - if -'^l" “heavens!” SAID I, "WHY DON’T HI FIRE?”

r resisted it? 1 was off my feet in an instant, but clung to the bridle with th? - tenacity of despair, for I well . that to relinquish my hold would add i to my danger, as the carriage would 1 certainly crush me beneath it. 5 While I did not succeed in stopping the horse, I somewhat lessened its im7 petuosity, and was at length conscious ’ ’ of others coming to my assistance, and ; knew we were saved, 1 fainted from ! exhaustion. When I recovered I found : myself at my cousin’s house, my nerves badly shattered by the excitement, and • my body considerably bruised; but beyond this no material injury had been received. During the evening my cousin in- | formed me that he had seen Mr. Sinj clair, and had arranged a meeting between the captain and me the following morning at 8 o'clock on the mountain, where we were to fight with pistols, at thirty paces apart, one shot <®ly to be I exchanged. "Under the circumstances, though,” said he, “I am justified in having the neuter posts i>ned until you are better pr. pared, ami will see Mr. Sinclair to- > night forthat purpose.” "Xm at al. " mi.-d I. "that would be •. as ribed to cowardice. Anyhow, I will ! . be ail right to-morrow.” The morrow came, and. true to our . appointment. Mr. Farrel and I proceeded to the spot indicated on the moun- - j tain. We were accompanied by a doctor, in case his services might be need- ■ ed, and Jemmy O’Neill, who drove the :• ■ car. Though not yet 8 o’clock, we found 1 the captain and Mr. Sinclair awaiting - I us. I noticed that the captain was ex--1 : ceMingly pale, and regarded me closely i as I approached. The preliminaries were soon over, and each of us took our stand, and had the pistol given us. No effort at conciliation was made. J ' The signal for firing was to be the discharge of a pistol by Mr. Sinclair. ) i Mr. Farrel stood to my right, encouri i aging me, Mr. Sinclair about midway - । between us. to my left, while the cap - < tain and I. with arms elevated, and ’ , pistols presented at each other, awaited I the signal. t Bang went tne pistol, and the next j instant, though scarcely conscious of it • ; myself. I discharged mine. As the smoke cleared away I beheld f the captain standing just as he was before I fired, and still holding his p;stol presented at me.

“Reavens!” said I, “what suspense is | this? Why don’t he fire?” He did not do so, however, but,, ‘ throwing his pistol to Mr. Sinclair, approached me and extended his hand. ! “Mr. Morton," said he, “as it was I who challenged you to this meeting, I , would say nothing to interrupt the : duel; but now that you have had your ; shot, 1 will say I could not bring myself to shoot at the man who had done , me such an invaluable service as to save the life of my beloved daughter." "Your daughter!” said 1, in astopishment. “Yes,” said he; “it was my daugnter j whose life you saved yesterday, so today I withheld my fire on that account. . Besides, 1 apologize for my rude words j of yesterday morning, and admit I was ■ wrong in using them. For preserving my beloved child, I thank you from my heart, and she herself will thank you in person ere long.” As I write these lines now, a familiar form hangs over my chair, and, looking up, I see the same sweet countenance I beheld in the carriage on the eve oa the duel on the mountain.—Chicago Journal. AN OLD VIRGINIA DOCTOR. He Was Far in Advance of His Time in Medical Practice. Dr. Charles Everett, a Virginia physician who died in 1848 at the age of 81, must have been as lonely in the practice of his profession as "the voice of one crying in the wilderness." Doctors in those days had little faith In the healing power of nature; their pills were large, their doses nauseous and freely given. But Dr. Everett, whose practice extended over eight counties, anticipated the medical teaching of the present day; he held that the physician's aim should be to help rather than coerce nature, ami that medicines ought to be administered by the band of a miser. Thomas Jefferson and Dr. Everett were neighbors, but politics separated them in social life. A joe >se remark, made by the ex-I’resident in his last illness, pushed them still farther apart. Dr. Everett had been in consultation with two other doctors, and as they entered the sick man's room Jefferson looked up and said. “Whenever 1 see three doctors together 1 generally look out for a turkey buzzard.” Dr. Everett immediately withdrew, highly offended. The Doctor was a keen observer of human nature, and often used the knowledge he had thus gained for the benefit of his patients. Mr. E. C. Mead, iell's' -i “Historic Homes of Virginia.” his a/pi'am?* wlse once - by a man's nau^ wi ^ the of acionsness. ' d a patient to conA notorious old n , had fallen into a stupe from ] nothing had been able to n Dr. Everett was called in. ma. several futile efforts to rotis • • old man. Seeing the county sheriff ] by. and recalling his patient's rula... passion, he went out aud hastily sum ! moned the officer to his help. It was arranged that the sheriff should cut r the sick man’s chamber and drop his saddle-bags on the floor, making them rattle as though they coma': .d a am tity of specie. "Mr. Sheriff." said the Doctor, as soon as the jingle subsided,“bow much money did you say you had collected for Mr. Jones here?" Before the official could reply, the old miser stirred, and in his eager, weak voice cried, "How much did he say*” Dr. Everett must have found many patients who appreciated his advanced i medical opinions, for he left a fortune amounting to more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He was also iu advance of bis neighbors as to slavery. His will directed that his many slaves should be freed, transported to Liberia and settled there In furnished homes. Oue thou^ 0 ^ dollars iu money were also to be gn en to each family, iu order to srart them iu their new life. ' His ueph'”’’- t 0 whom the estate was left, becoming convinced that the । i ajar*’* could find no suitable home in L-ifricu. took advantage of a codicil to the will, and settled them in Mercer County, Pennsylvania. No Anxiety About Herself. Among th© guests at an old lady’s recent birthday party was her son. As the old lady was celebrating her centennial aud the son was eighty years old they made a remarkable couple. The mother, in spite of her years, was so strong and vigorous, both mentally and physically, that it seemed almost incredible that she had rounded out a full century of existence, and her son had been absent from her for several years. The meeting between them lin'd been very affectionate, and they had remained close to each other during the son’s stay. When the time came for him to go he embraced his mother, saying, wistfully, “Weil, mother. I suppose this is the last time I shall ever see you.” The mother looked up quickly and astonished. “Why. dear, what’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you fee] well?” releph.mcs to Hospital Beds. Telephones are to be placed iu the ! waids of one of the Paris hospitals ■ within reach of the bed-ridden pal Herds. so as to enable them to com- ; muuicate with their friends outside. ■ niere will also be an arrangement , whereby the telephones may lie switch- ! ed on to a wire connected with a conI cert hall, so that the performance may . be enjoyed by the invalids. Getting Kid ot a Splinter. When a splinter has been driven deeply into the hand it can be extract- I l 'd by steam. Nearly ill] a wide-mouth- I । ed bottle with very hot water, place ' the injured part over the mouth and I press it slightly The suction tints I produced will draw the flesh down i and in a minute or two the steam will | extract splinter and inflammation toI gethet. Truant Laws Enforced. | The absence of a child from school In Switzerland, unless in case of illness 1 is punishable by a tine, the amount of ! which is daily increased, if it is suspected that the child's illness is shammed a doctor is sent by the school au thorlties, and. when he is convinced | that the suspicion is correct, the par | ents have to pay his fee. When a man is noted as a bore, other men try to get by him without being | seen

I I QMsofwonffl!

I evil of anonymous letters, YpN ID you ever get an anonymous i Jfjil letter? Ditl y°u ever write one? ■ ^^lt is a habit that belongs to the v ery young, though older ones have been known to relieve a petty spite in that way. To have a desire to write an anonymous letter that will give pain reveals a cruel nature. I'he young who have a desire to wreak petty revenge in this way should remember that nothing is wc rth considei ing to which you are not willing to append your name, says a writer in the Philadelphia Times. Have the courage to say what you have to sa.r boldly if it really should be said, and have the grace to be ashamed to wreak spite in the dark. The sending of comic valentines is only a form of anonymous letter. It you wish to hold someone up to ridicule to dK-iir'olvcs, you select a valentine that shows up sonic fault or weak mm in the most ridiculous manner. You mortify, pain or anger the recipient in the cruelest possible sense, for 1 there is no blow more keen than the bio tv of self-love. Anonymous communications are not worthy of eonsid eraiion, lint they have more than once wrought incalculable injury. Manage* a Farm. Miss Sarah Hewit. daughter’of New York’s former Mayor, manages her father's farm at Ringwood. N. J.. '

where she is known as "the ’squire.” In town she is a society leader. At Ringwood, on the farm, there is ; a blacksmith's forge ' and bem h. To the | farmers, hands and employes it is no strange sight to see "the ’squire," clothed

F»' y** MIS- HFWITT.

with a leather apron, raise n horse's (y,’< f. remove an old shoe, pare the hoot : anil re^ct the shoe. or. Indeed, fit a new shoe. Miss Hewitt uever punishes a hn?se with n vhip. an l it is said that nuriiy a night she has sat up with a horse Hint was ill ami ministered unto hith. To her is due Hie church. Hie school, the training shop; to her iuflu । euCes is due Hm dc<;rm ticii of Hie I wiMebed. Joyl ill lighted log <-ab ami in their stmid the nett frame with tiieir uri^lit brick chim i ! I! ' ' 'ir sunny windows and the । brilliant sunflowers 1 au '> Jojo. sw!v t geraniums. 11 i, 11,, u rnlhcr . w t oMrage !b .‘ ! '»on’s sister. M <s Ann.e. ' : 7 ' o H liorse* ,

- 1 the viciuit^* had mounteif a fiery Kentucky thoroughbred for a dash across the i [ country, when the an . . I mal bolted with the bi. lietween Ins teeth. The

plucky girl stuck to her q S s mm.-ox. I eeat and sawed the reins, w jj e t j le . in . j > mal turned corners that h' ave I unseated an ordinary hm ^ WO i Uan 1 5 The horse, after running > blocks, was finally brought to, s . n ' [( j s with Miss Hobson none tiie wm. * her experience. Street Car Magnate's Wife. Mrs. Charles T. Yerkes, the wife o. the Chicago street car magnate, who has gone to New York to spend his

great fortune, is mistress of one of the finest houses in that city. When being built it attracted much attention because of the $30,000 b a t h-r 00 m which Mr. Yerkes , placed in it for his wife. Mrs. Yerkes’ home cost $700,000. the ground S3OO,-

Mg! W-. IP MRS. YERKES.

| 000, furnishings §600,000, and an art I gallery with a collection valued anywhere from §500,000 to §1,500,000. Are You Jealous? After marriage jealousy should be striven against just as one battles with fever or any other kind of disease. It creates misunderstandings by the hundreds; it chills love, though it is a sign of love, and it makes the unity of thought and feeling that should exist between husband and wife a hollow mockery. It is the wife's part to cure this canker. Women are so delicat dy sensitive and so wonderfully wise an I diplomatic, that without throwing their cards on the table, and thus revealing their hand, they can force the garni* t<_> go any way they will. Jealous husbands are very quick to see win n their wives really adore them, ■ Hid them alone, and the woman who is the victimized wife of a jealous man, instead of scorning his weakness, does "ell to be lenient toward it, and tender. remembering that her conduct alone is its eure, or, on the other hand, its aggravation. there are wives who argue falsely that when their husbands cease to be jealous they also cease to love them 'Mth the passionate fervor of the first i few years of married life. Never was | ’here a more absurd mistake. or a i truth, only the woman who has not known the pangs of jealousy would so at gue. Jealousy Ims been known to । kill people. Jr s;t j)s the strength and । weakens tb e vitality °f tlm heart. So. though it does invariably imply love, it should he quenched by the sufferer , ; and the object of lj ’s or her devotion, j i f*°ve remains; he certain of it. and i . m ore truly it j s love where the green- ■ j nyed monster has been killed. 1 A<lvic e for Worrying Women. | l! is trite advice f 0 tell women to j take every day aS it comes, to avoid ‘ remorse over what is done, and fore- ; boding S over what is to come, but it is i no less valuable advice. Nervous pros- * trat'on is seldom result of present

trouble or work, but of work and trouble anticipated. Mental exhaustion comes to those who look ahead and climb mountains before they arrive at them, says the New York Magazine of Sanitation and Hygiene. Resolutely build a wall about to-day, and live within the enclosure; the past may have been hard, sad or wronfe—it is over. The future may be like the past, but the woman who worries about it may not live to meet it—if rhe does she will bear it. The only tiling with which she should concern hernelf is to-day, its sunshine, Its air. Its | friends, its frolics, its wholesome work, and. perhaps, its necessary torrow. May and Her Big Bov. The woman in the picture is May Irwin, th > actress, whose special forte is "coon" songs. The strapping yobng man next to her is her sou, Harry /Gc t A f -■ I; may iitwis. hakry inwin. — Irwin. Harry has just passed his seventeenth year, and as a birthday present received an appointment to the I nited States naval academy in Annapolis. Miss Irwin worked bard to secure the appointment for her son. Cleaning Jewelry. Gold jewelry may be cleaned by washing It in a lather of warm fljapsuds. to which a few drops of sal folatile have been add <l. This Imparts brilliance, and the articles should then be dried with a soft cloth and rubbed with a chamois leather. Silver jewe Tj sinmld aiso be washed in a little w.-vm soapy water. It may teen be {xtlfsh <1 with a very lithe of tile Ih»s; whiting or har shorn peuder and finished off with a soft leather. Maltese silver ornaments of fitigre work do not io quire a powder to be ttM-.l; th y sh.ml 1 b ■ 1 rushed wDh a small brush ami soapy water, dried ean fuly ami rubb d with a soft leather. After gold jewelry Jias Do n cleaned, ■ should be placed in a bag of boxwood sawdust, to be procured from a j?wel- < r shake and rub lie ornaments thorot'ghl.v iu the due. ami they will look beautifully bright and < lean when ! ! ! “' ” Chains and n e]<letF may t o. Xountry Itous. C.Hlcrn, A well appointed country house Is 1 provided with the following con-' : venh nee tor visitors who arrive when | the mistress of the house is out, tsc "not j at home." or when important messages i must be left. At the inner door of the ! vestibule, ami generally belli id it, stands a small japanned meta’ rack, ' containing a pad of writing paper, a ; I w hole pack of blank cards, two well . i sharpened pencils, a pencil sharpener ; and an India rubber. ; By providing these conveniences the , waiter does not have to leave the house ! door unguarded while he goes to search ’ ■r a pem il and scrap of paper on "‘‘ hto set down the message. Neither w il. o obliged to charge his mem- ‘ ory with names of visitors who find ! hemstdves 'tout their own cards.— : Baltimore New f . Reniodeling Hints. A waist of black or dark satin, silk or wool which lias grown too small I may be made over into a pretty peas--1 ant’s bodice by cutting it low. square I both frout and back, with just a strap over the shoulders and no sleeves. It should not meet in front by three inches at the top, running to a point at the waist line, and it should fasten with a black silver lacer. AVear a white waist and sleeves of thin stuff under the bodice, and the whole, when wqrn with the black skirt to match it. makes a I piquant, pretty effect. A princess may be made fresher looki ing by adding a panel in the back from I the hem to the collar. The panel slopes i a trifle narrower st the waist, and is ’ crossed its entire length by a lacing of ' cord to match the dress. In remodeling a sleeve too long, al- ’ ways shorten at the waist after the ' top is fitted, else you may get the elI bow out of place. The skirt must never . l>e shortened from the top. lest you ' throw the gored seams and darts out I of pla< e. but first finish about the hips ami belt and then trim what is not needed fro»i the bottom. For Old Lace. q'ery fine old lace can be beautifully : cleaned by being sewed in a clean piece : of linen and laid all night in salad oil. । Next day boil it in a large pan of soapy J water for a quarter of an Imur and i rinse in several waters. Dip into su- • gared water and pin on to a strained i cloth to dry. Commercial Advertiser. Stylish Shoes. The most stylish shoes for golfing, bl- | cycting and the street are made with I the “bulldog toe.” The wise man knows enough to conI ceai what he doesn’t know.

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PRACTICE READING ALOUD j Sext to the Writer of a Great Thought Is He Who t eads It Well. “It will surprise every girl who has pot already grown to a realization of her shortcomings in this direction to hear how little of the author’s thoughts she brings out when she reads aloud,” writes Kal home Junkerman, giving instructions on “The Cultvation of the Speakng Voice” in the Woman’s Home Companion. '"Die monotony of her voice will surprise her, too. and her throat will grow tired. She will stumble or hesitate at unfamiliar words, even though she knows their meaning thoroughly, just as one who reads music readily will misplay it from lack of practice. Os course, you think you understand about what you are reading, but when you read aloud you must not only do this; you must make it clear to the listeners. The eye can travel more rapidly than the voice, so that it is easy to read a few words ahead and get the meaning before the voice needs to take up the words. By । doing this, continuity of expression is I insured, consequently continuity of thought ou tiie part of the reader is possible. “It is a very rare thing to hear a good conversationalist who does not read well, and they are the first to ackuowledsie the help their resuling has afforded them, in reading aloud new words are brought to us. and we familiarize ourselves witli them, aud also with the mechanism of pronouncing them, so that the risk in using them when we talk Is small. In reading graces of expression and new arrangements of words come to our notice, and we can acquire them; depth and versatility of thought grow to be ours by assimilating the thought of others, and that most desirable thing of all, a large vocabulary, also becomes ours. M hat girl has not stumbled and blundered vocally sei*king an apt word to express her thought? And who । among us has not listened to the ex- ' travagant ‘How perfectly lovely!’ ap- । plied to all sorts of things, from the । newest in shirt-waists to a snow-cap- | caped peak of the Rockies? If girls read I aloud more they would acquire a bet- : ter idea of the value of words, and use them more appropriately.” r "Heroes of the Middle West.” by i Mary Hartwell Catherwood. is full of ; romance and power. It is said that the sales of "David j Harum.” by the late Edward Noyes W< <teott, are averaging nearly 1,500 a • day. Eden Phfllpi Ts. author of "The : Children of the Mist.” has brought out a very successful comedietta called “A Golden Wedding.'' “Each Life Unfulfilled” is the title of .a :• »vol by tuna Chapin Ray, a gradu < . XnuTh College, and the author of "i‘ illy, Her Book.” । Dean Farrar has written a book . which he entitles "Texts Explained.” • and describes as helps to the under- > standing ol the Now Testament. j "The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore" is an absurdly funny story by a । writer calling herself "Hal Godfrey.” ■ It deals with quack advertisements. "A Double Thread" is the title of a I new novel by Ellen Thornycroft Fowler, author of "Concerning Isabel Car- ; naby,” which is to be published short- ' ly ’ Lord Charles Beresford's book is to have the title "The Break-Up of China.” This might seem, at the first glance, to make against Lord Charles’ policy for keeping China intact. "What ! he refers to, however, is the process of division which has been threatening China. Mfss Braddon is still, at the age of G 2, as industrious as ever, and a new novel, "The Infidel,” which has been promised for publication soon, makes i it sure that 1899 will not go by with- ■ out a novel from her pen. Since ISG2, when she began to publish in book form, she has skipped only two years, and th e total number of her novels since sh.- wrote “The Trail of the Serpent,” in 18G0, comes to fifty-six, inc’uding the book almost finished. A book of the musical memories of Sir Arthur Sullivan will be published during the early summer. It is being written by Arthur H. Lawrence under the authority of Sir Arthur Sullivan. Naturally, we may expect the volume to give us, more or less, a history of the Gilbert-Sullivan operas. But it will । also be a general picture of the English musical world of our own day. Sir Arthur Sullivan has known all the not- , able figures associated with modern : English music. IJrawn at Xi^ht. The architect and his friend the builder were driving back to the former's office. They had been out to the edge of the city to look at some work i on which they were engaged. As they i drove by a certain bouse the builder looked up at it proudly, saying, “There - is a house that I built myself. I not i only built it, but I drew all the plans. 5 Every bit of work in it is mine.” The 5 architect looked at the house and f smiled in a provoking way. The builder noticed the smile and looked at the - house in a new light. “How hard I ' worked ou that!” lie said. “In the ■ daytime 1 had to do something else, but ' every night 1 would sit up late draxv--1 ing on those plans. 1 drexv on ’em : every night for a month.” The archii tect looked at the house again and smiled once more, and tire builder saw him. Again he turned his eyes toward the product of his brain, twisting his neck to squint at it after the carriage hail passed it. Thon lie looked at the architect with humility. "It looks as if those plans were drawn at night, doesn't it?” he said, and there was pathos in his voice.—AVorcester Gazette. The average poor man is not more firmly convinced of anything than that one has to be mean and dishonest itt order to get well. There never was a greater mistake. An honest man is one who admits that his baldness is due to old age, and not to sickness.

i they ■ a.nd Cramps’ shipyards at Philadelphia now employ 5,000 men. American exports of manufactured goods now average 81,000,000 a day. The daily shipments of oil from the Indiana field amount to 36.111 barrels, and the runs from the wells, 9,30,4 barrels. Preparations for the erection of the $15,000,000 steel plant which is to be located at Stony Point, near Buffalo, N. Y., are in active progress. The recent advance in wages, equivalent to about 20 per cent., enables the \ street car men of Pittsburg, Pa., to now earn $2.50 a day of twelve hours. During the month of April the American Federation of Labor issued thirtythree charters aside from the charters Issued by its affiliated national unions. The printers in the government printing office at Washington will receive an increase in wages of 10 cents per hour, Ihe increase to begin with the next fiscal year. During the first week of May over 2,000 new members were added to the । Tobacco Workers’ National Union. One union tobacco firm in Brooklyn, N. 1., used 2,000,000 blue labels in the : month of April. The largest tin plate factory in the world, the Shenango mill at New Castle. Pa., is to be operated in its entirety by electricity 7 as soon as the necessary machinery can be installed. The mo- ’ tors will be used in all parts of the 1 plant. J. R Sovereign, ex-grand master ( workman of the Knights of Labor, now publishing a labor paper in Idaho, was refused a seat as delegate from a ‘ “workingmen's union” of Gem, Idaho, at the session of the Western Federa- ’ tion of Labor at Salt Lake City. Contracts have been awarded a , Pennsylvania firm for the constru^'°X of six steel bridges on the line ’’ Traussiberian railway—making' ’ n eighteen bridges which this company has undertaken for the same project. At Schweinfurt, Bavaria, is one of the largest of the world’s manufactories for bicycle ball bearings. 'lhe two factories there, belonging to one firm, turn out annually 2,000,000 gross of these little steel balls, and employ GOO men. working for a day of ten hours’ duration. LAW AS INTERPRETED. । The presence of all the directors of a I corporation at a special meeting is held, iu Troy Mining Company vs. White (S. D.), 42 L. It. A. 549, to make the failure to give proper notice of the meeting immaterial, although the statute requiring notice is mandatory. The statutory lien of a corporation upon its stock for the debt of a stockholder is held, in Aldine Manufacturing Company vs. Phillips (Mich.), 42 L. R. A. 531. to lie one which cannot be foreclosed in equity unless the remedy by judgment and execution is inadequate. The damages which a florist may recover for injury to plants by escaping gas are held, in Dow vs. Winnipesaukee Gas and Electric Company (N. H.), 42 L. R. A. 569, not to include any injury to his business reputation on account of sales of damaged plants, as that is conjectural and too remote to be allowable. The conversion of a public highway into a pleasure driveway, from which loaded vehicles are excluded, is held, ' in Cicero Lumber Company vs. Cicero (111.), 42 L. R. A. 69G. to be within the power of the municipal authorities and not to constitute a taking of property ; without due process of law or for public use without compensation. ’ For the death by exposure of an intoxicated passenger who was carried ; past his station and put off against his wishes at the next station and then 1 driven out of the depot late at night, 3 when the weather was stormy and ’ dangerously cold, it is held, in Haug ’ vs. Great Northern Railway Company 1 (N. D.). 42 L. R. A. 6G4, that the rail- ’ road company is liable in damages. 3 Describing lands as "lying on the south side” of a non-navigable river, which is also named as a boundary, ia held, in Hanlon vs. Hobson (Col.), 42 c i L. R. A. 502. to convey land to the center of the river. The question of the 5 effect of bounding a grant on river or r tide water is discussed, with a careful • analysis of the decisions, in a note to 3 this case. f —, j Stand Up Whi*n Trying on Shoes, j “People would find less difficulty with • ready-made shoes,” said the experi- . enced salesman, “if they would stand ] up to fit them on instead of sitting 1 down. Nine persons out of ten, parI tieularly women, want a comfortable • chair while they are lilting a shoe, and it is with the greatest difficulty you* -1 can get them to stand for a few minutes, even after the shoe is fitted. Then, when they begin walking about, they wonder why the shoes are not so comfortable as they were at first trial. A ; woman’s foot is considerably smaller *- when she sits in a chair than when she • walks about. Exercise brings a larger * quantity of blood into the feet, and they 1 swell appreciably. The muscles also ‘ require certain space. In buying shoes ' this fact should be borne in mind.” > The Uastness of London. ’Die vastness of London is becoming more aud more striking. The real London is comprised in what is called the Metropolitan police area, and in that area there is a population of 5.633,806, which is as great as the combined popular. ir gr<‘at capitals of Europe St I’etorslmrg. Berlin, Paris and Rmm Already London extends eighiccn mi ' S from (.'haring Cross all around, ud the mind cannot grasp the Moa of tiie London of fifty years hence. In its streets, houses, workshops, rivers. 66 persons die from various kinds of violence every week; so that nearly 3,500 men, women and children every year meet their deaths from accident, negligence or design. 1 Im discovery by the neighbors that a girl had a promising voice, costs her father a thousand dollars before she settles down and forgets her ambition in marrying.