University of South Carolina Libraries
JUDGE HOT. ' *t xcnrrxs m. lovtxtzsl. Y? through whose v?ins the Jife-tides sw&erg With rhvt tunic ebb and measured now, 'Whose pulsu ne'er like ligbtninc leap At paseii n's touch or anser's blow ; Wbo, hedged by custom's narrow round. Scarce know your warmest frieud Irom foe, And think yoa love, liecanso you've found That you :ao dearer friendship know, How dare yoajudge the soul that knows No neutral crotmd 'twixt hell and beaven? Which ever with life's wloit.' teat glows, With jov :ransfixod. or sorrow riven. To such I.ove is n<> idle name. Or rosy dream, inanely sweet. But chords of d<-ep, divines: p:i n, Entwined with every heart-string's beat) Wackxsha, wis. . 'Twixt Life and Death -?or ODER MEDICAL ADVICE. A Story of the FrancoPrussian War. BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. CHAPTER XIV. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. A ^ \^^wfc^AYLIGHT came wounded mnn f??\ Ybq^C lying in a heavy <3?? EB31 sleep. The old dame sat by his ^fflCTadministered the ^anodyne acT^Pcording to instructions of her ^'young mistress, and it seemed to ? hare had an almost miraculous r effect. % Early in the morning Dr. fluet % appeared at the chateau and went ?P to the bedside. He 6aw at a glance that the crisis was past, and after a careful examination and redressing of the wound pronounced the patient out of immediate danger. During the examination the German awoke and made a sign that he wished to speak to the doctor alone; 60 the old dame was dismissed, and the two men were left face to face. "You have something to communicate to me," said the Frenchman, seating himself by the bed. "Ah, monsieur," returned the German officer, "it is not of myself that I wish to speak, but of her whom God sent to save me in my extremity." "Mile, de Gaviolles? Yes, voa are light; you owe your life to her." "More than *my life, monsieur!" cried the other, in a voice choked with tears. "Ah! you do not know. But when I have told you, you will adore her and pity me. Botter if I had died! Better if 1 do not live to look again into her noble face! Charity so infinite is more than I can k. hear." Huet looked puzzled, and began to ' think that the mind of his patient was wandering. "Pray compose yourself," he said. ' Where is she, monsieur?" asked the "wounded man, eagerly. "Have you seen her?" TV o m a "*> UL (1115 UIUXUIU^. xsuuav avwavwm tells me that the young fatly watched during a portibn of the night, find then retired to her own bedchamber." "Not before she had saved my miserable lifet Not before she had snatched me Irom death, though she knew that I, of all men, was the most undeserving! Monsieur, I remember. I was sinking fast "when 6he interfered and succored me? me whom she should have left to perish! ?me whom she has cause to hate so much!" \"Come, come," said the Doctor, goodhumoredly; "of course we know you are a German, one of the enemies of France. But a bullet, look you, absolves all such enmities, and we people of France do not carry our ferocities into the hospital or the sick-ioom." "Thanks, monsieur,"returned the other, adlv. "To vou. also. I know I owe a debt of gratitude; but that is different. To her I owe far more?a debt which leaves me hame-Btricken and penitent before my God!" His look was so frill of anguish, his tone and manner bo solemn, that the Doctor gazed at him in wonder. Tremulously, with the tears 6till streaming down his cheeks, the German reached out his hand, and placed it upon Huet's Arm. "Monsieur, listen. Do tou know? have you heard?that she has lost hex lather?" "No!" cried tho Doctor, starting in amazement. "The Chevalier? He is not dead?" Woful beyond measure, in its utter misery and self-repronch, was the look "npon the German's face as he replied: "Yes, monsieur. I killed him." Thunderstruck and horror-stricken, the Doctor shook off th? other's touch and sprang to his feet. "You killed the Chevalier? Do you mean ft? Grand Dieu, it is too horrible! How? How? In broken accents the German told his story?as he hod told it overnight to Blanche, bnt more clearly and in fuller detail. He described the incident of the surprise, of the cutting down of Gavrolles, of *he scene enacted afterward in the moomignt, wnen tne (tying man committed the medallion to his enemy's care. Dr. Hiet, who had known the Chevalier well J'; and esteemed him above most men, listened in 6impl2 horror. "It is well for you," he exclaimed, when , the otbe: hnd tiuished, "that I d:d not inow this before. I reproa -h myself low that you were not suffered to die like a dog. It is horrible?it is infamous! Even yet, when the t.-uth becomes known to the people, I will not answer for your life." "My life is nothing, monsieur,"returned the Bi'k man, with a groan. "I set no store by it, God knows, save for the sake of those whom I have left at home. It would have been better, perhaps, if I had died last night." But Dr. Huet stayed to hear no more. With a cry, almost an imprecaution, be tushel from the room. In tie lobby he came face to face with the old di>me. ~un, monsieur, will you come to my young mistress? I have just been to her room, and I have found her lying there like one distracted. I am sure she has not slept all night, and she talks so strangely." Great.y excited, Huet accompanied the woman to the chamber, and there, Stretched upon the bed, her face worn with weeping, her hair dishevelled and still moi-t and cold with the melte l snow, be found Blanche lying. Her eyes were -wide open, but she seemed to see nothing; only at intervals, with strange monotony and regularity, she cave vent to that terrible moan with which she had heard the fterman'8 tale overnighn. "It is cerebral fever," he cried. "Look, Sbe is quite unconscious. Poor child, poor child! It is fortunate that I came ?ere." Under Huet's instructions, Blanche was ondressed and put into bed by the old dame, who wept freely at her task, foi Blanche seemed to her almost like nei own < bild. Returning to the chamber, the Doctoi found the p^or gill lyiug with the same fixed look and utteiinj: the same weiry moan. Clad in her white nisrht-dreHs, with ber 9ilkea hair falling around hei face and setting it in u uoldt-n fiame, sh? looked strangely beautiful. The Doctor s eyes grew moist as thej gaz^d upoa her. "Ht^veiily jiowers!" he ifturmured to | himscir. ""What fatality! The "man who killed her father and the father's heartbroken child both lying under the 6ame roof?his roof?and" under my care. II maSee my head swim to think of it. Well, with God's help I will save her if I can.* Fortunately the good Doctor had both - ? -3 ??>/? mrwonrnr flic , ; Milil till Li eXJIClK? U\*C, nuu, uiviw.x.., infojmation he bad received enabled hiro to o.etennine tlie cnaracter ox tne girr? ailment. He walked back to the chamber where ?e had left the wounded man, who, as he entered, looked up wildly and exclaimed: "Monsieur, have you seen her? Foi pity's sake, toll me of her! The thoushi of what she must suffer is wringing mj heart." "She is unconscious," replied Huet between his set teeth, frowning and drawing back from the other's outstretched handB. "You killed the father, and I fear you have destroyed the child. I doubt if she will ever recover." Giving a great sob, the German turned his face away r.nd covered it with his trembling hands. CHAPTER XV. THE GERMANS. "While these things were taking place at the chateau, the surrounding district continued in a panic of excitement, owing to the near presence of the victorious Germans. A little experience, however, showed the country people that the ferocity of the enemy was, to say the least, exaggerated. Etretat was quietly occupied. Grave foreign officers in spectacles were , found strolling on the seashore. There was no more fighting, as all the French I troops, onlv a handful at the most, had i retired along the coast in the direction of Dieppe. Two days after the wounded officer of Uhlans had been carried into the Chateau of Grandpre a small company of cavalry, headed by an officer, rode up the avenue toward the chateau and halted on the lawn beneath the terrace. The offier, dismounting, walked up the steps to the door and knocked. After a delay of some minutes the door was opened by old Hubert. "What may monsieur please to want?" asked the old man, quaking in every limb. "You have one of our officers lying here wounded," said the German in French. "I wish to see.him." "Certainly, monsieur," answered Hubert. "Will you be good enough to enter? And will you please to step softly, as my poor young mistress is very ill?" "He is alive, of course?" muttered the officer, halting on the threshold. "Yes, monsieur." On receiving this reply the officer beckoned and another German, also in uniform, leaped from the saddle aud ran up to his side. "Yes, he is here. Come with me, Borgfeldt; you maybe wanted." With obsequious timidity Hubert led the way up-sUirs into the sick man's room. He was lying in bed, propped up with pillows, and reading a book. One glance al the book showed its religious character. T4- -n-r> n T^AnnTr n/lifinn t It a Vots Testament. "Hartmann, old fellow!" cried the officer, with outstretched hands, "this is, indeed, fortunate. We had given you up for dead." Hartmann smiled sadly, returning the kindly pressure. "God has been good to me. as you see,' he replied. "I survive, while better men are in their graves. Ah. Dr. Borgfeldt, is tiat you?" "What was it?" asked Borgfeldt, who ' was a tall, clean-shaven man in spectacles. "A bullet wound?" Hartmann pointed to his heart, and the German doctor, stoopiug down, made a hasty examination. "It was an ugly wound," he muttured; "the ball lodged close to the pleura, onlj just missing the left lung. Who extracted it?" "A clever French doctor. Ah! he ie here. Let me introduce him?Dr. Huet.' Huet, who had entered the room, bowed stiffly. "How is mademoiselle, your patient?' asked Hartmann, eagerly. "Better, I praj God?" "Better?and worse," replied Huet, coldlv. "The fever is leaving her, bul i from'time to time are signs that she is beginning to remember. I dread the complete return of her faculties, for then ' "Yes, yes; I understand," cried Hartmann. "Would to Heaven that I could comfort her! but, alas! it is too late foi that. May God forgive me!" The other two Germans Tstened in nc little surprise to this conversation, which, of course, they were at a loss to under- ; stand. Then the officer broke in: "Well, Hartmann, what c^n we do foi ] you? You seem in snug quarters here, sc that it is unnecessary to think of removing | you, I suppose?" 1 "Pardon me," interrupted Huet, "the ( sooner he is removed from this house the better." "Quite right," said Hartmann, sadly. "1 have no mht here, where my very presence is an outrage. Take me away as soon i as possible." , Without asking any further questions j the offiw>r momised to ?<#nd an ambulance c%rt that very atternoon, and in the teeni. time to tell off a couple of soldiers to keep I guard over the patient and attend to his ttants. In the afternoon the ambulance arrived and Hartmann was assisted down. It was an open vehicle with a canvas awning, Mi/laltr nvlnTnriAri'/fl/l fnn ornl | ? LiUCtJ UA?VU1| UIK'VU AVI WUU ^UlL/VOV. UUU | bti'own thickly with straw, on which the invalid wus ab? to lie almost at full \ length. Lying thus, with his head propped up by pillows, he could see the wintry 6cene" around?the trees laden with snow, j the dri.rt upon the ground, the gray, still heaven above the woods. Huet stood on.the steps of the chateau watching his departure. Hartmann beckoned to hiin. I "Monsieur," he said, "I am going away , with a heavy heart. All my thought and care tow is for Mile, de Gavrolles. | Should slie ever speak of me?should she ever bear to think of one so nnworthy? tell her that I shall never forget her, nevei cease to pray for her and to bless her. May God comfort her, monsieur, and watch over her, now and fotever!" Huet made no reply. The cart moved slowly away, driven by a soldier in undress" and with a mounted soldier in uniform on eithc-r side. Down the long bleak avenue, through the wintry woods, went the little procession. Here and there the snow was so dc?p that progress was difficult, aud it was necessary for the. 6oldiers to alitfht an.l free the wheels. Hartmann lay Iocfklng on the desolate scene, his heart full of a kindied desolation. His thoughts were wandering backward to the 6ick-room where the mar- ] tyred girl was lying. " Tuey had traveled some distance through the woods, and could tee the | open country close at hand, when the ] driver came to a full 6top. Blocking the , narrow road was a traveling carriage, one ( of the wheels of which had loosened and j was lying deeply imbedded in the snow. The driver was on foot, now examining the c image, now gesticulating wildly to j the soldiers rs they approached. Seated in the carriage, with his face turned away from Hartmann, was a tall J gentlemen in military undress, carrying ( his arm in a sling. With an?ry exclamations in their native | tongue, the German soldiers rode up to the driver and seemed commanding him | to clear the_jvay. He answered them with i, volley m French, not a worn ot wmch ] they understood and pointed to the wheel. "What is the matter?" asked Hartmann. addressing the diiver of his own vehicle. 1 "An accident, Herr Captain," replied the man, salut^ug. "The cairiige has ' broken down." 1 At this moment tfce strange gev.tleman, i leaning on a stick or crutch, alighted from 1 the carimge. The light fell upon his pale face i.nd close-cioppai hair. < H..rtiuan'i started nnd raised himself 1 upon hi6 pillow. .Something in the face Eeemea iamuiar. ITS ancl Ioosea onoin Ciinfc nf linnrpn mnM it bft nOB Bible? Tiembling violently, he called to the driver of the ambulance: "Quick! go to that gentleman! Demand his name and wbitber he is going!" Xh6 man leaped down, and, joining the group nt tbe side of the carriage, addressed the stranger. Then he came back to Hartm inn. 0'id said, painting: "His name, Herr Captain, is the Chevalier de Gavrolles, and he is returning invalided to his home yonder at the chateau." Had an angel from heaven alighted npon his path, bringing some happy message from another woild, Hartmann could not have fal? - vildsr .suture 01 a mor? wonaermg awe. A cry Droue irom Ms lips; his eyes swam with sudden tears. On. the goodness of God! the great mercy and marvel of His ways! The world brightenod as if with morning sunshine. Eavth and heaven seemed radiant with 6ome holy light. 'Ask him to come this way. Entreat him. I must speak to him. Quick, for Heaven's finks." j.xie man ooeyec! and again walked ovei to the carriage, where the coachman, assi6ted by the soldiers, was busy attempting to mend the wheel. Then, after a minute, the gentleman, leaning on hia crutch and partly supported by the soldier in undress, made his way laboriously to the side of the ambulance. Hartmann leaned over with trembling, /I fKo Inntftd I up at him in surprise. "Monsieur, do you not know me?" cried the German. "Ah, heaven! do you not remember? I left you for dead. You f;ave me that last message?that medalion?" "Is it possible?" returned the Chevalier. "The German officer who " "Who thought that ha was guilty of your death, but who now thanks God for restoring you?so unexpectedly to life. Ah, monsieur, it is a miracle! It is God's doing! Tell me?how did it happen? How were you saved?" "By your countrymen," answered the Chevalier, smiling and taking Hartmann's hand. "A party of Germans carrying the Red Cross lound me lying where you left me, and, discovering some faint signs of life, bore me (o their ambulance. Your Burgeons are both skillful and humane; under their care I at last recovered." "Thauk God! thank God!" cried Hartmann, raising his eyes to heaven, while the tears streamed down his cheeks and he sobbed like a little child. That evening Dr. Huet stood by Blanche's bedside, watching her as she slept under the influence of a narcotic administered in the afternoon. Suddenly she 6tirred, moaned faintly and opened her eyes. The wild look of delirium had faded from her face and Dr. Huet saw that she recognized him. Then, in a moment, came memory, flashed before her like a mirror. All hex brain was clear and he saw that she remembered, "With a wild cry 6he covered her face with her hands and uttered hei father's name. "Mademoiselle," said the Doctor gently, "are you listening? I have something to tell you." She drew her hands from her face and raised her eyes to his. He placed his hand 6oftly upon her shoulder and continued in hn cnmA VinrHv tone! "Will you tell me about your dreamsi Sometimes, I think, they were about youi father, my old friend the Chevalier, were they not? Ah! then you must not distress yourself. Sometimes, when love is so great as yours, it works miracles and brings back the dead." Who wns that stirring the shadow oJ the door and listening? Blanche could not see., for her eyes were blind with tears. "FatliCr! she crind "Alademoisfu'o, ao not weep. 1 hnv? had news which will give you comfort Your father lives still, an.l sends yon his loving blessing." She rose up in bed wilh a wild cry and seized Huet's arm. "Lives! lives!" she cried. "No; he is dead! He killed him! Monsieur, foi pity's sake, tell me! What have yoo heard?" Who was this stealing into the ch&mbei ?a tall, gray man, with a face full ol eager love and rapture, and eyes full oi blinding tears? Was she dreaming still, or was it th? spirit of her father? Xo. not dreaminp, and no spirit. He came close to her; he bent over her. "Blanche, my darling, do you not kno\* me? It is I?your father." "Fofhpri" nTin priftd; and. onenint? her arms to embrace him, fell swooning upon his breast. "My child, my child!" he Bobbed. fc] have killed her." "No, old friend." said the good Doctor, brushing away a tear from his own check. "Jo? doe? not kill eo easily; 6he will recover. " CHAPTER XYL CONCLUSION. Meantime, while the events were pro* feeding at the chateau, Honzcl, the "for. ester, had conducted himself more like a madman then a rational being. A nameless race, tempered with dread, pursued him. During the long nights he watched the windows of the chateau, where he knew the wounded officer was lying; then, when day came, he wandered through the woods and by the saa, a prey to his own Btormy thoughts. As the enemy came nearer, overrunning the district, Houzel was among the foremost in residence until, on the very day of the Chevalier's return, he was caught lurking in the woods near the village, attei having just nreu irom me nusnes ni some officers of the enemy. Dragged from big hidin?-place, struggling like a wild boast, and loudly proclaiming bi6 treacherous deed, he was given a shoft shrift. He died fearlessly and defiantly, and as he fell th< ast word on his lips was the name of his mistress. Two years had passed away, when, on :he first day of the new year, a little party ?-as gathered together in the Chateau of Grraudpro. At the head of tbe table sat the Cbevnlier de Gavrolles, Btill partly srippled by his wounds, but otherwise sell and strong. Facing him was his laughter Blanche, a little paler and saddei ;hnn of old, but as beautiful as ever. On his left sat worthy Dr. Huet and t> e little cure, and on his right, with eyes over fixed on Blanche in teuder respect and iffection, the German officer of Uhlans, in plain civilian dinner costume, like any srdinary gentleman. The Chevalier had his glass charged, md was in the act of giving a toast. "The old year has gone oiit in peace; nay the new year bring further forgiveless and reconciliation. Peace for France! Peace for the world!" "Amen to that!" oiid Hartmann. me om landmarks c'nnnge," proceeded the Chevalier, smiling. "Who would ever tiave piophesied that a savage Teuton ivould ever be welcome in tbe Chateau of Krandpre? Yet Blanche will have it 60^ it seems." "Xo. father," cried Blanche, blushing; "it was you yourself that wrote to Germanv and brought an enemy back." "Under ra&dical advice." interrnDted Huet. "L'oj-Dleu! I did not want to nave mother funeral; and as mademoiselle was so delicate. I prescribed the only remedy." A merry peal of laughter went round the table. "I nm a Teuton no longer," exclaimed the German. "I find mynationality where I found mv life?in the Chateau of Giandpre." Here the little cure broke in: "Th -t'B all very well; but if there should be another war, what then?" "In any case,"8'tid Hartmann, "I am invalided forever. No more fighting for me. I shall remain at the fireside with my dr.rlins nurse; and if ever the nations te'.'in quarrrfling again, I 6hall say " "Peaje to France! Peace to the world!" nied the Ch^alier. And All drank the toast again together. [THE END.] I APrrrrnnMPQ I J1IIV11V llUMJUUi ARCHITECTURE OP THE NATIVE HOUSES IN ALASKA Houses ot Snow and Ice?Securing ' Heat and Light?Winter Villages on the Coast?The Tote in?In British Columbia. Beginning with the Eskimos of the extreme north and coming down the coast of Alaska the architecture keep on improving until it reaches its culmination among the coast Indians of southern Alaska and British Columbia. The Eskimo often builds a house of ice and snow, cutting blocks of frozen snow and laying them CDe on tht other. They are first.arranged in a circle; then other block9 are added, each layer projecting a little beyond the other on the inside, till nothing is left but a small bole in the top. Then a tunnel-like passage to the outer air is made and the house is complete. A SNOW HOUSE. The Eskimo has an original way of getting heat and light for his house. His stove and fireplace combined is nothi ing more than a stone dish, above which he suspends a piece of blubber by a string. In the dish is a wick, which is H/VK+orl tlip nirl nf flint and nrritea. ? g-J , or by twirling a stick of wood between the palms, against a larger stick, or by using a bow drill. The heat, ascending, melts the blubber drop by drop, and thus feeds the stove or lamp. This simple contrivance does not furnish a very great heat, but as the native is used to it he gets along pretty well. The denizens of Point Barrow can stand a temperature of fifty degrees without any clothes on. Another kind of habitation for winter use in the far north is made from driftwood. This sort of house is erected without much regard to proportion or effect. A rude framework is made by simply laying the picces of woodvso as to form a room with a hole in its top for the ingress of air and the egress of smoke. The outside is sometimes banked with earth to 3top up the cracks. A sort of open-air store house is often put up, consisting of a platform on which the pro visions and general effects of the family are kept. The Eskimos often build huts of bones and whatever drift they can get and cover the entire outside with earth, making a house which is in general appearance like a mound. From as far north as Mt. St. Elias to Puget Sound, in the State of "Washington, there is a continuous archipelago. Running along this extent of coast are the Cascade Mountains, which divide off a strip of country 1000 miles long and A WINTER BOUSE AT PT. BELCHER. 150 miles wide. This is generally desig nated "the northwest coast." Winding through the tortuous channels of this archipelago is the steamer track to Sitka, abounding in wild and grand aceneiy. The climate1 of thU country is much milder than is generally supposed. This is due to Asiatic currents and a large annual rainfall. It is said that the mean annual temperature is about that of the District of Columbia. Thi3 area is a thickly wooded one, pine, fir, spruce and hemlock abounding. The soil is fertile, the forests well stocked with game and the waters full of food fish: This abundance of nature's <?ifts is reflected in the character of the people inhabiting it, many of whom have made considerable progress in various arts, being workers in metal, bone, slate and other substances, but par excellence in wood. The Indians of the northwest coast are the Tlmgit, Haida and Tsimshian, Kwakiutl, Wakashaw and Bilgula, besides the Salish or Coast Salish. The northern Indians, especially the Haidas, are the greatest carvers in horn, wood, slate, etc. Scattered throughout this country are the winter villages of the coast Indians. These villages are always locacod near the shore and generally near a sloping beach, which admits of readily hauling up the canoes at high wuter. The canoe is their only means of transportation. The houses are built in a single row facing the beach aud far enough back from it to leave room for a street, where fish are dried and canoes repaired. Sometimes, where the space is limited, the houses are built in two rows with a narrow street between. At one end of the village is situated the graveyard with a variety of sepulchres and mortuary col umns all cut out of wood, and the colums often elaborately carved. "Wood is the material mostly used in construction. The interiors of the houses vary according to location and the wealth of the owner. A quite general practice is to excavate the inside of the house so as to form two ledges or steps, one above the other, and extending completely around it, the higher one next to the walls. Thejo ledges are covered with slabs made of cedar. The lower one is used for lounging and sleeping on,while the upper one serves as a depository for the family's effects. 1 In front of each house 19 generuuy to be seen one or more carved columns. ' Occasionally can be seen a very tall one. This is a totem. None but the wealthy can afford to erect these and the owner of one is, as the head of his household, a petty chief in his village, and consequently a person of importance. In general these columns are genealogical J and illustrate the descent or traditions i of a family. They are in no sense idols, 1 as many persons suppose who see the specimens of these columns in the U. S. National Museum. i There are generally platforms either 1 attached to the house* or across the i . - r..., ' \ r \ V roadway toward the shore. In the latter case they are supported by pole3 if there is a bank next to the beach. Upon these nlntfnrma in rrni-irl -monf.ViAr the Tin - tives gather for social intercourse and to gamble. The Haidas, Tsimshiaa and Tlingit are inveterate gamblers. Daring the winter leisure or whenever they get together in any considerable numbers gambling is the invariable and constant amusement. They keep it up for several days at a time. The players sit about the platform, in the center of which is spread a mat. E?ch man has a bag of painted or carved pins about five inches long by half an inch in diameter. One of the players selects several of these r\ inn on fViam tin uuixi ms uacj uuu uucm in a pile of finely cut bark tow. The game is either odd or even, or to guess in which or two piles a particular stick is hidden. Many of these Indians are addicted to overindulgence in liquor, and the kind they get ia not of particularly good quality. . The Kwakiutl Indians of British Columbia have very original residences, which are well worth a description. Their houses have a framework of poles and heavy rafters. Two heavy beams run through from front to rear to support the roof, which has a gable. The THE WINTER VILLAGES. house has no chimney, but some of the boards forming the roof can be removed to allow smoke to escape. These houses provide accommodations for four families, who occupy the fou* corners, and there is a fireplace for each of them. The corners are divided off from the main rooms by a framework of poles on which each family dries its fish or other food. On each side of the fireplace there is an enormous settee capable of seating the whole family. But the bed rooms are the most curious feature. These are really small houses with gable roofs and are built on a platform running around the inside of the large house. They have in these rooms small fireplaces. In summer the southern Alaskan and coast Indians generally live in houses of temporary construction. While the salmon fishing is good there will usually be found close by the mouth of some fresh water stream owned by a family a rudely built structure. This varies in size,, etc., according to circumstances. As a rule these summer houses are built with a light framework and have a roof made of strips of bark overlapping and held down by poles and stones. Then there is a primitive form of tent, which is carried in canoes when the Indian is traveling. This consists of strips of bark. When he wishes to go into camp he simply cuts two sapling3 with forks at one eud of each, sharpens them to a point and sticks them in the ground. Then he lays a pole in the forks, rests his strips of bark against it and is ready foi the night, or "for rain, either, as the bark will shed water readily. | KWAKITJTL HOCSE. Many of Ihe Indians of Alaska now use cotton sheeting to make their tents of. This kind resemblos the regular A tent. The people of King's Island have very queer looking houses. They are made of skins stretched over a framework of j wood and are perched high in the air on ' elevated platforms.? Washington Star. Slie Accompanies Her Husband. "''i'ii'.iii4V',!S*' Mr?. Josephine D. Peary, depicted above, is the wife of Civil Engineer R. E. Peary, of the United States Navy, who is in commnud at Ncrth Greenland of aa expedition which has gone out under the auspices of the Philadelphia Academy of Science?. Mrs. Po?.ry is with her husband on this long journey. Her costume, as shown by the cut, well becomes her, rendering her appearance exceedingly juvenile. The party has | established headquarters at Whale Sound Vampire Bats in Brazil. Vampire bats are so destructive to cattle in the Brazilian provinces of Matti Grossi and Eutre Rios that stock-raising has become unprofitable. The Government offers SnOOU reward for the suggestion of auy plau which will tend to abate the pest. In a single night as many as twenty of the winged bloodsuckers attack a single cow, leaving it helpless on the field.?Chicago Times. A mosque is about to be erected in Vienna, Austria, for. the use of the Mussulman troops from Bosnia and Hersegovina, when these are temporarily sta:ioned in Viepna. Late developments in elcctro-photography indicate that it may be possible to take photographs of views located many miles from the camera. / I ' " / ' ' "* "v / ' v ' V'-r: SPONGE FISHING. DETAILS CONCERNING AN INDUS^RY IN THE BAHAMAS. The Methoil of Gathering th? Sponges and Preparing Them l'or Market and the Profits of the Work. Consul Thomas J. McLain of the United States consulate at Nassau, in the Bahama Islands, in respone to the direction of the State Department, has furnished an interesting paper on the sponge trade of the Bahamas, in which the value of the industry and the methods of catching the sponges are given. The vesseb employed in the trade are small, varying from five to twenty-five tons, sloop or schooner rigged, and are built in the local shipyards. The construction and repair of these vessels constitute an important industry in itself. They have small cabins for sleeping purposes. The cooking is done on deck. About 500 of these vessels are engaged ii rnu ^ m garnering sponges. iuc jjuluuci ui persons gathering sponges in the Bahamas, handling them and preparing them in various stages for market, is from 5000 to 6000, all of whom, except the shipowners, brokers and shippers, are black people. Hands employed in clipping, washing, packing and prepairing finally for shipment abroad get from 50 to 75 cents per day of ten hours. The amount earned by the men who go fishing depends entirely on the number of sponges obtained. The owner of the vessel fits her out at his own expense, and the profits of the voyage are divided up in shares among the owner, the master, and the men. They are never hired by the month, nor do they ever get specified wages. The most that can be said is that the men make a tolerable living, and the sponge fisherman who earns over three hundred a year is the exception. The method of gathering sponges is by means ot iron hooks aiiacnea to *oag poles. JJy using a water glass the fisherman can readily discover the sponges at the bottom, and then by the pole and hook can bring up those he may select, leaving the smaller ones untouched. Some sponges adhere firmly to the bed of the sea, while others are not attached at all, these latter being known a3 'rollers." About ten yeare ago an attempt was made to introduce dredges, but it was found that their use was likely to ruin the beds, becauso in passing over the bottom they dislodged and brought up not only the good sponges, but the young and unsalable one3 as well, killing the spawn and working great mischief. Such an outcry was raised against dredging that an act was past forbidding it. "When brought to the vessel the sponges are at once spread upon the deck and left exposed to the sun for several days, during which time the animal matter that covers the sponge gradually dies. This is a black, gelatinous substance of a very low order of marine life, which, during the process of decay, emits a most objectionable odor. The vessels visit what is called the kraal once a week to land the load from the dcck. The kraal is an inclosed pen, fenced in by sticks of wood so as to allow a free circulation of water through it, usually built in a sheltered and shallow bay or cove on one of the bays near by. The sponges are placed in the kraal and left to be soaked and washed by the action of the water from four to six days, when they are taken out and beaten with sticks until the decayed covering i3 entirely removed. Having been subjected to this course of exposure, soaking, beating and washing, the sponges are quite clean and are taken on board the vessel, packed iu the hold, conveyed to Nassau, and in this condition are sold to the local market. Of the larger sponges a catch of 50U0, or of the smaller ones 7590, would be considered a fair lot. Occasionally a cargo of from 12,000 to 15,000 large sponges has been brought in, but this success is exceptional. The principal varieties gathered in the Bahamas are as follows: Boat, grass, glove, hardhead, reef (white and dark), velvet, (abaco and cay), sheep wool and yellow, of which the most vaulable is sheep wool. The total export in 1890 reached over 900,000 pounds, valued at $306,896. The crop of that year was about the average, being really the most valuable one in many years. Of that crop there were shipped to the United States, 708,000, valued at $238,000. Bahama sponges are not considered very | good, but a ready market is found for all that can be obtained and at constantly improving prices. There are no indications of any failure of the supply. ?Philadelphia Ledger. Largest Lily in tUo World. The Botanical Garden has succeeded in propagating tne iarnous royai water i lily, or as it is known in botany, "The Victoria Regia." One of them is now in full bloom in the little fountain soutti of the main greenhouse, and several are ! in bloom in the basin of the large cen- I ten nial fountain in the centre of the ! grounds. J The plant is a most peculiar growth, the lesve3 resembling in form huge frying pans, varying in diameter from six to eight feet, and, on account of their peculiar construction, are capable of sustaining considerable weight. Yesterday a tjihotograph was taken of the lily with tire nine-year-old son of the assistant superintendent of the gardens complacently sitting in the middle of one of the mammoth leaves. This is not the first time lilies of this variety have been grown in the United States, but it is the first instance where they have flowered in water not artificially heated. The flower is exceedingly beautiful, and resembles in its first stage a large magnoiia. As it grows older its color changes to a delicate pink, gradually becoming red, until finally it sinks from sight and develops a seed pod. Hundreds of persons visited the gardens and viewed the curious botanical creation. Superintendent Smith has decided to keep the garden opeu every daj | during the blooming of this lily until ! dark, so that every one can have a chanct of viewing the largest water lily in the world.? Washington Star. A Cross-Eyed Dog. One of the curiosities at the Union Depot Tuesday was a cross-eyed dog. He seemed to be conscious of his deformity and did not at all relish the curiosity he excited by the crowd. The animal belonged to a traveling man, who said the dog's eyes became afflicted from watching too long the antics of a fly on his nose.?Mexico {Mo.) Intelligencer. , . . ....... v. , * - " v - :-;<***' r. <* 1 }* . ;7:- . I 11 * HARVEST SLUMBER SOMA Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleeps Red is the moon in the night's still deep, "f White are the stars with their silver wingt' v Folded in dream ings of beautiful things, And over their cradle the night-wiad sings; Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep. Soft in the lap of the mother night The wee baby stars, all glowing and bright^ I Flutter their silver wings and crow To the watchful winds that kiss as theK blow Round the air-cradle that swings so low, Down in the lap of the mother night. Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep. Bed is the moon in the night's still deep, And the wee baby-stars are all folded and kissed In a luminous cradle of silver mist; And if ever they waken, the winds cry whist! Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep. ?W. W. Campbell, in Youth's Companion* PITH A|D_ POINT. The trouble with the crank is that h?j will turn only one way.?Dallas News. ; It is the uninstructed delegate that is ordinarily the most intelligent.?Botton Herald. | The love of the man who marries forf moneyisfouDded upon the rocks.?Pitt+> lurg Press. It's odd that by devoting all her time to Browning a girl can get pale.?Chicago Times. A great mauy men are like new ground ?do better when they are broken up.?< Columbus Post. What is monopoly? A corporation iof which other fellows hold all the stock.?J Texat Siftings. ! A turtle is a lazy fellow; but no other # 11 ,1 . , * t ** * t ienow tniniis ne nas a son snap.? mond Recorder. Sailors are the only class of men known* who will voluntarily sit down on a tack. ?Philadelphia Press. The most difficult ups and downs of, this life are keeping expenses ddwn and appearance up.?Atchison Globe. j Female pages were employed by thd last Legislature in Oklahoma. This is, turning over a new leaf.?Rochester Pott-\ Express. -| The musical fad in London is playing the harp. The lyre?no matter how yoa spell it?cannot "be kept down.?Philadelphia Ledger. ' | Many barbers refuse to ahave a customer in a thunder storm; they don't like to be disturbed in the middle of their talk.? Richmond Recorder. i Warm was the look in her eyes of brown When I met her down by the summer se?? To-day when I meet the maid In town, ? Cola is the stare that she gives to me. ?Philadelphia Inquirer. { Figgs?"Closefist left his property so, that his widow could not marry again.'1) Diggs?"How was that?" Figgs?"Hfli left it all to his son."?New York Her aid. He?"I am resolved to live no longer if you reject me. You?you?are my, lite. Speakl" She?"Well, I don't care if you take your life, then."? (7Ai-! cago News. Bloofer?"I suppose your wife has vials of wrath in store for you now and} then?" Breyey?"Vials? No, .sir; noth-j ing short of a shower-bath suffices foe her!"?Truth. * George "Was Doing Quite Well: Ethel ?"I have had more than fifty offers this season." Maud?"For the land's sakef Who from?" Ethel?"From George." ?New York Sun. if The Prodigal Son: Sunday-school Teacher?"Johnny,who was the prodigal eon?" Johnny?"Oh, that was the fel-1 low who went away a auae ana came back a tramp."?Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. . The Oldest Inhabitant: Tourist? "How long have you been living here, my friend?" Native?"See that big hill over thar?" Tourist?"Yes." Native? "Wal, that was yere when I came jere.J> ?Jury. | -if "Do you think you could support my daughter?" inquired the cautious father. "Why, sir," replied the suitor, "ij , think so; I never heard it intimated*, . that she was insupportable."?Washington Star. "That was a very reasonable request the Rev. Mr. Whitetie made last Sunday." "What was it?" "Herequested that no buttons be contributed for the heathen without garments attached to' them."?New York Sun. Rich Uncle (struggling in the water and on the point of drowning)?"A thousand dollars to the man who savea me." His Nephew (an expectant heir) ?"I'll give ?10,000 to the man who doesn't."?Brooklyn Life. No Dry Goods Measure: Young Housewife?"I think we'll have some eels for the first course, cook." Cook? unr.nrrr irmch shall I pet?" Younsr Housewife?"Oil, about three yards will do, I should think."?Drake's Jfajazine. Clerk?"A Montague street man complains that there is a lot of rubbish ia front of his house. What shall be done!" Street Commissioner?"That's an easy qne. Have it removed and placed in front of the house- next door."?Brooklyn Life. "I might not be able to cover as much ground as you," said the camel to the elephant, "but if it came to a race I could hump myself." "And I," boastfully chimed in the giraffe, "could beat both of you by a neck."?BaV.imort American. Above the Snow Line: Guest (at Chicago hotel)?"I wish vou would have one of the boys take my overcoat up to my room and show me the way." Clerk ?"I would advise you to put it on,sir, if you are going to your room. It's on the top floor, and you'll need it before fou get there."?Clvthicr and Furnisher. Mrs. Bingo?"You know we ladies are anxious to do all wo cau toward' building the new church, so each one of us has agreed to deny ourselves the privilege of a new gown." Mrs. Kingley? "How self-sacrificing! Have you subscribed?" Mrs. Bingo?"Oil, yes, I got the moiiev from my husband the first day."?Cloak Jicoietc. Architect?"A modern seaside cottage built on this plan would cost you $1500 ?" Millionaire (disgusted)?"That might do for a dog kennel." Architect (with rare presence of mind showing another plan)?"Yes, sir; that was my idea. It would do for the dog kennel. Here is the plan for the cottage itself, which can be built, I think, for about $100,000."?Chicago Tribune. ' . .Vv