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A TENDER CHOM). BY MAKDA L. CROCKER. Stranger, there you've twanged % chord I'd rather never hear. Tho' upon my soul it is the sweetest to my ear; But, ye see, I'd kinder lost 'em?pleasant thots, je Know, of yore? And I wish I'd altogether, ieein's tkej return no more. Yes, your tellln' of the homestead an* yer mother at the door, Watchin' for her bov a-comin' with the cows on jest afore, Makes me think o' times that's drifted out beyint the 6ettin' sun, Leavin' mo, a vag, to wander np and down 'till I am done. I've bin trvin' to forgot it, sanies I would a i troubled dream, All that nestled there together in the ben din' of the stream; From the cabin in tho orchard, where the bLadders uster steal, To the bridge tin' clump o' ciders jest above my flutter-wheel. But yer talkin' of ver childhood brings mine back agin to me. An' the things I hed forgotten are the very ones I see; An' I hear agin my mother callin' me her darlin' Koy, An'?I raley wonder, mister, if I aint her little boy? Seems as if I were barefooted, with the rim all off my hat, Bunnin' 'cross the fields at sunset for the cattle ill ue "rial; Seems to me I hear the tinkle of the hell that Cherry wore, An' look back an' see my mother standin' in the kitchen door! An' I smell the bloomin' clover, as I skip along the ridge; An' hear the clutter, clutter of the wheel below the bridge; Later then my mother comin' with'the milk-pail on her aim, An' she talks, as she is milkin', of the prospects of the farm. Later still I skip before her, puttin' down an'up the bars, Whistlin' to the whip-poor-will an' countin' biggest stars, Watchin' swallers skim the zenith, blzzy with their evenin' meal, List'nin' to the milk a-strainin' whila the shadders round us steal. Beems to me I hear her hummin' of the hymns she uster know; Patient, hopeful mother allers?but, icy friend, that'6 long ago, An', ye see, I'd kinder lost it, pleasant picture, stained by time, If I hadn't heard yer story of ye* happy auld lang syne. But ye ttrailced a chord vibratin' with K bub" blin', childish joy That's bin mighty silent, mister, sence I was a little boy; An' that's why, tho* 'tis the sweetest to my lonely, friendless ear, That I kinder wish ye'd missed it, for I'd rather never hear. Ricrland, Mich. I BETRAYED; OP. A DARK MARRIAGE MORN. A Romance of Loue, Intrigue and Crime. BY MRS. ALICE P. CARRISTON. ?CHAPTER II.?(Continued). It was nine o'clock in the evening t>e lore xiay cauea ni tugeut) hiuvuj. He found bim as be bad expected, writing; and after tarrying for balf an Lour, and speaking what words of encouragement be conld think of. he left, feeling that it would be a relief to his friend to have him do so. The next morning when he arose, Eugene found a business letter awaiting Eim. After a wondering glance at the envelope he tore it open. The letter it contained was brief and to the point: "Dear Sir?I om greatly in want of an efficient book-keeper. You have been stroncly recommended to me, and I offer you the* position. The salary I am prepared to pay is one thousand dollars per annum. If you accept, I should be glnd to have you enter upon your duties to morrow morning. Respectfully, etc., "John* Noriox. Publisher," For some moments Eucene was almost unable to 6peak, or, for that matter, even to think; but presently he was more himself, ana then the truth Hashed upon him. "John Norton? Why, that's Ray's relative. Ah! I see it all now; this is his doings, or?no! it's more like Meta. I must go to them at cnce;" and he went. Yes, it was Meta's doings. Ray had hastened home from the bank, and, full of the subject, had told her everything. Without a word, but with pale face and quivering lips, she had hunied to her own room, and after dressing for going out, had hastened through the sit tins-room, saving, as she pass.'d into the hall: "Brother, I hope to be back in an hour. If I do not come, don't worry; I shall be safe," and then she had almost flown to . r the publisher. He heard her story, gave her a hundred dollars, telling her to see that it was handed to Eugene on the morrow, and then told her that their friend should not want for employJaent. And thus it was that young Cleveland, on this next morning after his dismissal xrom me DanK, ioui.a mrnseu iar oeuer off, in a worldly point of view, than he had been on the day before. In the dark hour of his trouble and disappointment he had written a letter to a 6weet and trusting girl in a pretty New England \illage, informing her that he had lost his situation, but saying never a word about the woman Mho had caused his disgrace. On returning to his room after his second day's service at the publishing house, he found a note on his table. It was simply this: "tome to me, my own love, and be comforted. I am here at my auut's. "Mildred. "0015 Woof TKir+r_oflnn?rl cfraat "Tuesday morning." Eugene gave a glad shout of satisfaction, and started for Thirty-second Btreet at once. Ah! how mnch ihose two had to say to each other! How earnestly she regarded him?how eagerly she watched his every movement! "And so you are to have one tbousmd dollars a year, now?" she said, at last. "Yes, dear; that is to be mv salary." *l?n t iliai a great deal?1 mean, won't it support yon quite comfortablv?" "\es, indeed; una my little wife, too, if 6he will le my wife. What do you Bay, Mildred?" "I see very clearly," Bhe responded delunrely, "that unless I say yes you will be getting into fresh trouble directly." "Ah! then yon consent. B ess you, Mildred? bless you, my own darling!" And he covered her lips with kisses. CHAPTER III. THE WEDDING?THE FLIGHT. Mildred Lester's home was a pretty Tine-coveied cottage, in an attractive New England village on Long Inland Sound, -where her whole life had been passed in qmet happiness Tilth ner wid, owed mother. She was lees than tea years of age when Eugene Cleveland, then in his seventeenth year, first 6a.w nnd became inter~ i ia v.Af 4 a DimnoCfrl OOIVU 111 UVX, UUb AW AO MVK IV WW that she felt drawn toward him at that time. Her mother, however, who wa* still far from old, took a suiirteu nnd great liking to the boy, nd whin Bbe discov**ed hiB nmnitest orofcrenee for her cbtld, gravely, an<t even earnestly, dee are.l to him that it should he tbe one great object of bt-r life to train her up to be worthy of bi-i love. Eugeno wiis deli^btel. and from that moment not on'y tbe inoie duieentlv worshiped his little friend, but included ' her mother in his tlevot.on. And so the years passed?happy, joyoug I reurs, with h'irdly a care. But at length misfortunes came, and the young lover lost fa her and lortune at the* same moment. Then, through his uncle's influence, he became a book-keeper in the Atlantic National Bank. How he lost .his situation we already Know, ana we also itnow^witn what tender solicitude Mildred, who had long since learned to love him with all her heart, had flown to his 6ide, to be with and to I comfort him. Time sped swiftly by; the wedding day was fixed, and was rapidly approaching. The only question that had not been settled was the place where the ceremony should be performed, Should it be at the widow's cottage in New England, or at the bride's aunt's in New York? "I nm afraid, love," said Eugene, one evening, when this question was brought up, "I am afraid that it will have to be here, though I should like so much to be married at your own dear home, where we have both known so much of happiness." I "And why can't we?" "Why, you see, dear, we are so busy now. 1 am wanted at the publishing ? ? ? ? AWAMX *v>Am\AVtf in /1-Or n?>/1 V? f> - 1 UUUbO C? Cl V liiVXIiCUb 1U wuo uhj, nuu AiminR been there so short a time, I hardly Bee my way clear to asking for a leave of absence, even with so important nn object in view as taking to myself a wife. So I think your mother had better come down, and that the ceremony had better be quietly performed in the evening, after the business of the day is over." "But I fear mamma may not be well enough to come down," objected Mildred. "Not well enough?" repeated Eugene, wonderin^ly. "Ah!" sighed Mildred, "you don't know how fast she has been failing lately. w txy, sne can 110 ionger go out oi uuuru. It is even as much as sbe can do to get from one room into another at times." "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "that's bid. I am very sorry to hear that;" and then, after considering for a moment, "but, dear, we must havo her with us some way." "I fear she'll think it best not to attempt to come to the wedding," said Mildred; "but she may come to us after we return from our bridal trio." "I am afraid you have not quite understood me, Mildred," said EugeDe, gently; "we sha'n't have much of a bridal trip, I think." "What! Not have any bridal trip at all?" excluimed Mildred, in a disappointed tone. "Why, really, my darling, I don't quite see how we could have much of one, any way," be responded. "In the first place, as you see, I can't very well get the time, and if, as I greatly desire, we go to house-keeping at once, as my friend Raymond Fielding and his sister have done, why, we shall require all my surplus cash to purchase our fitting out." "It will hardly seem like getting married, not to have a wedding trip," mused Mildred; "but I can very well Bee that it will hardly be practicable or wise to undertake one." "I knew you would look ai it in th?t light, my darling," exclaimed Eugene, approvingly, "and now about your mother. Mildred; let us settle that." "Ah! I will write to her at ODce, and find out what suggestions she has to offer. But, 6ay, Eugene, couldn't we take the i 4 or the 4:30 train up. get married at our j house in the evening, and then return by | the early train the next morning?" "Why?yes; I think we might possibly manage that. At any rate, write and see what your mother says, and when we get her answer we can settle all details more intelligently." Mildred did write that very night before preparing for bed, and two days later the answer came. Mrs. Lester professed herself as very much surprised at the haste the young : couple were making, but did not attempt j to dissuade them irom carrying out their j plan. One thing, however, sbe made very ] clear. She could not possibly bear the , exoitement of a wedding taking plaoe in Vior U?1 UVUCVl She suggested, therefore, tbat they , should be quietly married at her sister's; ! haTe a brief reception afterward, if per- j feitlv agreeable to hc-r, and then take a j late "train to Riverside, and 6pend one ! night at the cottage. After they had been married a month j or so, she further said, she would, if they j wished it, rent her little cottage, and | make her future home with them. 1 As nothing belter could be done, they | concluded to act wholly on Mrs. Lester's j suggestions. j Mrs. Vernon, Mildred's aunt, cheerfully consented to have the wedding and | reception take place in her parlors, and i bo tne necessary arrangements were made, i and the invitations sent oat. It was not their inteution to ask a great I many to congratulate them; but Eugene's acquaintance in the city was large, and Mrs. Vernon had a host of friends, whom, she said, it would not do to slight on such an occasion. So that, when tbe list came to be revised for the last time before the eventful day, they found there was still quite { an army left, after dropping every name ! they could tind any excuse for rejecting. At last the wedding day arrived. Eugene I had seen Ray the night before, ani re- I ceived rrom mm tne assurance that he would be promptly on hand. "As for Meta, poor girl," he had said, "I don't know whether it will be possible for her to le present or not. She hasn't been at all well for some days past, and when I left her this evening 6he said she hardly thought 6he should try to 6it up till my return; and, by Jove, old fellow, if she don't let me in to-nipht, it will be the first time she's missed since we've kept house together." The marriage was to take place at an early hour, and only a favored few were to witness the ceremony. ine appointed nour urrivea, me minister was on hand. They only waited for Raj- and Meta. Five?ten?fifteen minutes passed, and still the expected guests did not appear. The minister looked Impatiently at hi* watch; he had another engagement, and the lime was slipping by. Moreover, it was nearly the hour lor the reception. "I would suggest," whispered*Ihe clergyman, meeting Eugene in the hall, "that the ceremony be no loncer delayed. Doubtless your friends have been unavoidably detained." "We -will -wait just five minutes," rejoined Eugene, "and if tiey are not here then, not a minule longer." "Very well," and the minister turned to answer a remark of the bride's aunt. The five minutes passed; still no Ray ?no Meta. They must give them up. Eugene, who had been to the door for the twentieth time, closed it onco more and went up Btairs to fetch the bride. The ceremony was quickly over; the clergyman, as in duty bound, kissed the bride, and the happy couple received the warmest congratulations of their friends. And now other f^ue^ts began to pour in, and the house filled up rapidly. Presently, while Eugene and his wife were suriounded by and were converging with a number of their guests, the footman who had been engaged for the oc:\a- ) cinn mnria >iia hot tn VllTTl !ill(l tllfleetl ft J Beale.l note in hie Laud. ' * 'Ureent ' the teaivx renuested me to say, sir," he sairt, with a bow, and then discreetly withdrew. "Excuse me," said Eugene, and wonderiDglv he opened the note. His wile, who watching his face with eager interest. s:>w a strange look of fear, remorse or alarm settle there, and was about to speak, when he hastily exc aimed: "I mast leave yon for a little while, dear; I am very soriv, but Jt can't be helped. I sha.l he back in ample time to take the train. Don't let it be ceneraUv known that I am gone." And~ with" a hasty glance at those about him, he left tiie room. A strange rense of impending evil weighed upon poor Mildred's heart, and she even thought that those aronnd her, who had seen her husband's hasty withdrawal, partook of the feeling. Fifteen?twenty minutes passed. She thought she would find her aunt, and ask her what it could possibly be that had called her husband from her side at such a time. She had jnet reached the hall when some one pulled the bell. A J OAtRA/1 VlA* Ond /?! O OT\_ XX DOUCQ \JL uicau OCUOU ucx, auu, Viwu|/ng her hand to her Bide, she leaned against the wall for support. The footman opened the door. A messenger stood without; he handed in a letter, and immediately denorted. The solemn menial glanced at the address. "For yon, ma'am," he said, and placed the mi*6si\e in Mildred's outstretched hand. A sudden impulse took possession of her: nnd catherintr ud her skirts she fairly flew up the stairs and closeted herself in her own room. To tear open the letter was but the work of an instant, and it hardly took longer to devour its contents. This is what she read: "Poor innocent and betrayed one, where do you think the husband you are waiting for is at this moment? Would you know the truth? Then go to the home of her whom he loves but too well ?the sister of his friend. "Do you doubt? Think for a moment. TTsVa. rr-Vlrtm Vi a ^iarrrflPO Kimool# ftnfl * VI VT uwm Ut?? UV VUDglMVV V. lose his situation in the bank? Her brother. Who procured him another and better plnce? This girl herself. "I tell yon again yon are betrayed. She has summoned him to her, and he has gone?even before you are the bride of an hour! "This warning comes from "A Friend." "With a groan Mildred crnshed the oowardly letter in her hand, and abstractedly thrust it in her bosom. As she did 1 60, something white on the carpet attracted her attention. She picked it up nnd saw that it was a Dote. Quickly she remembered that Eugene had left his hnt and overcoat in tbat room, and that he must have come * - - -1 x ??. rm.:_ tnere xor tnein wnen ne weni out. j.mu must have been the very note he had received, and be must have dropped it then. She opened it with trembling hands. One glance was enough. She uttered a sharp cry of pain. "Oh. motherl oh, my poor mother!" she moaned; and, seizing hat and shawl, threw them on any way, and stealthily leaving the house, tied in the darkness of the night. [CHAPTER IV. AN OPPOBTUXITY LOST. On leaving his bride in the parlor, Eugene Cleveland had hastened upstairs to the room in which Mildred a little late sought seclusion. After closing the door, he had once more carefully read over tbe note he had received, and then, as he thought, thrust it intn >110 vflst nnrkfit. His overcoat lay across the back of a chair, and his hat was on the table close by. In putting on his ooat tbe somewhat crampled note, which had been rather carelessly thrust into his pocket, fell ont upon the floor. This, unfortunately, he did not notice; and having buttoned his coat and seized his hat, he hnstened from the room. Passing down a back stairway, in order to avoid attracting attention, be descended to the baseraent, kept on through the servants' hall, and so at last gained the street. For a moment he hesitated, as it uncertain what course to pursue, and then started at a rapid pace toward Sixth avenue. He had hardly reached the corner when he saw an ompty cab approaching. He at once hailed it, and as it drew up to the sidewalk, sprang inside. "Where to?" asked the driver, as he opened the door. "Two hundred and ninety-five West Forty-seventh street," was the answer; and in Rnother moment he was being rapidly whirled up the avenue. "Here we are, sir," exclaimed the driver, as the cab came to a stand nnd he sprang from bis seat. But before he could onen ihe door Eutrene was on the side walk. " \\'a t here," he said; "I shall not detain yon for more than ten minutes," and running rapidly up the 6teps, he gave a loud rine at "the bell. He waited for some time, and hearing no movement inside, rang again. A moment later hd distinguished the sound of heavy footsteps slowly ascending the basement stairs, aud then, with aggravating deliberation, approaching through the hall. The key turned in the lock, and the door was opened just enougu 10 permit the person within to get a fair view of the would-be visitor without. "Who are ye, for, an' phat do yez want here, if ye plaze?" came a voice through the aperture. "Sure, the mistress is out, an' I " "I don't want to 6ee your mistress, you know that very well," interrupted Eugene. impatiently. "I called to Bee Miss Fielding." "Miss Meta, is it? Thin she'd better resave her company wh n her brother's within the house! That's phat I'm tbinkin'." UT?.?* -Va in am/1 VaP C CkT~I f frtr mo I) Ul bUD 19 Diva, (lUU uao ovuw AV* ?mu. I must see her, I tell yon. Come, don't keep me standing out here all night." "I'm knowin' she's sick," nodded the girl, without offering to move; "an' I'm tbinkin' it's best she should he kept quiet loike. Any ways at all, I'm not paid to do her throttin'. Why don't her biotherBtay at home an' wait on her friendsV "Come, get out of the way," exclaimed Eugene, almost fiercely; and, thrusting the impudent girl aside, be hurried through the hall and up the stairway. Bridget started to cry murder and fire; but just at that moment she discovered a policeman on the opposite side of the street, nnd so thought better ot it. Deliberately she shut aud locked the door, and descended to lier own regions in the basement, muttering as she went: "The mane thief, the misernb e Turk, wouldn't givo me aveu a cint to bless meBelf wid; an' him a conrtin' nn' a courtin' of her, wid niver a wan in the way barrin' meself to watch him?" Meanwhile Eugene tad enined thedoor of Meta's sittinp-rconi and knocked. There was no response, and, after an instants hesitation, he mustered courage to open it. The room, as he expected to find it, was empty. He passed on into the next. This also was empty, but just before him he saw a door standiug ajar. He knew it opened into Metn's sleeping apartment, und, <dr wing near, Lo knocked gently. "Who is there?" called a sweet, but feeble voice, in a tone of surprise and alarm. "It is I?Eugene. You sent for me, you know." "Eugene! 1 sent for you? Great heavens! what does thi9 mean? Go back to the drawinq-room. I will join you there directly." "But vou are sick?unable (o rise, perhaps. 1 " b (^r\ ne\ twi't. wnrrw nliAIll m ft I b"- - " *"* -> mnst see 3 on. I must kuow more of this. I will be with you almost instantly." And bo Eugene returned to (he draw, iug-rootn, and, Keating himself in the first chair that came handy, g<?ve himself up to wondering what Mota's etrange reception of him might mean. lie had not to wonder long. The girl herself speedily joined him. After turning up the light, she drew a chair near her visitor, and, as she B .nk into it. eaid. earnestly: 1 "Did von not gay that I sent for yon?" "Yes,"of course, was the reply. "What! to come here?here, when my brother was away, and on yonr wedding night, too?" "Certainly, Meta. Yon know yon sent me a note not half an honr ago." "Who brought it to yon?" "I haven't the least idea?a messenger toy, I suppose." "Let mo 6ee it, please." "Certainly, I have it here in my veBt pocket?no, it must be in the other one. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, growing pale and becoming extremely agitated, "it's wv.1 :b t 4f ?t Vaf. gone. u nab 11 i uiuppcu iv a? vuw * *#*nons', and my wife has picked it up. That wouldn't be pleasant, especially as I am not there to explain." "What did the note say?" asked Meta, with forced calmness. "Why, you oueht to know better than I, as you wrote it," returned Eugene, quickly. "No matter, what did it say?" persisted the girl. "It said that you were *ery ill, and that Ray had suddenly been called out of town on a matter of the utmost importance, and that it was absolutely necessary you should see me this verv nieht. Before 1 left ftfe city, as you had Borne- J thing to tell me that I must hear from your own lips." "It said all that, did it?" "Yes, and-and more." "Whnt else?" "Why, really, Meta, I can't remember even thing. And, indeed, .1 think there was nothing more of real importance." "Well, then," said the fair young girl, very impressively, "let me beg that yon will hnrry back to your wife without the loss of another moment ot time. If yon have a carriage in waiting, so much tie better; don't let the driver Bpare his horses." "What do yon mean, Meta?" "If yon have any regard for me?if yon have any love for your wife?don't stop to inquire, but fly to her at once?fly as you would if yon knew her life and all her earthly happiness were in danger." "I can't comprehend you, Meta." "0 heavens! what stubborn mules men - Z* AT 1 _?.1 ? ? can ue 11 iuey imve umjr u uiuu bu. van . you understand, Eugene, that I ne-er wrote that note?that I am utterly incapable of writing such a thing to a man not an hour married? Do you not see that it litne worir or an enemy?"an enemy ben) apon wrecking your happiness, and perhaps mine?" "Merciful Father! can it be possible? and yet " "And yet you do not know all?no, nor half. I see it clearly now. Ray was utterly confounded when he received the note that called him out of town this /lid mt n-n/taratiftnd it ftt ftll D V "" U*V4 iiw .. WW but felt that it might be something of the last importance to as, nnd so he went. "Yes," she added, "I can see it now only too well. It was all a piece of this same plot to injure you. They thought it necessary to get my brother oat of the way. They mean to do you or your wife some dreadful harm, therefore I beg you to hasten back to her as fast as possible." "You are right, Meta?yes, I am sure yon are right, as you always are, and I will go at once, only let me first aek " "No, no! don't stay to ask anything. How do yoa know but, having got you out of the way, your enemies have found * kA.o n* XUeaiit) Ui uuuiuiuiiiuouu^ miu urn vi, as you yourself suggested a little while ago, how do you know but Bhe has found the note you so carelessly lost?" "By Jove! you're right, I must be off at once," and starting to his feet, he seized bis hat, nnd hurried to the door. But here he stopped, with his hand upon the knob. "We're going to Riverside to-ni?ht, Meta," he eaid; "bnt we shall be back in the morning. And to-morrow evening you and Rny must come and see us, then we will talk over this strange matter. "All," he added abruptly, "I begin to think I can point out the very hand tnat's working against ub. But I musn't stay longer. Good-n'ght " And, having at last opened the door, he hastened across the hill and down the stairway. "And so can I point out the hand that is doing this crnel work," murmured Meta, as 6he slowly approached the window and looked out into the night. "Yes, I could go right to her, and say?'you are the one.' and she would not dare deny it." She heard the front door close, and 6he saw Engene hurry down the steps, across the walk, and enter the waiting carriage. She saw the driver slam to the door, Viat on/1 Afirra nroor And thon UJUUUC UIO UWA IIUU U41TV sbe saw a muffled female form cautiously approach the house and regard it attentively. "Who can that be, and what does she want here?" she involuntarily asked herself. Before 6he could find an answer to her question the woman had moved slowly away and disappeared in the gloom. Feeling weak and faint, Meta sought the lounce and sank heavily upon it. Ah! had sbe but remained at the window a moment longer how much of sorrow ?how much of misery?might have been avoided! [TO BE CONTINUED.J ?? Tiiey Huto No Dally Bread. "The cattle herders of the Argentine Republic are perhaps the oat; civilized people oa the globe who eat no bread," said George J. Giddings, of New Orleans. "I was seat to that couatry a year a*o by aa English syndicate to buy cattle for the London market. I penetrated 703 miles into the iuterior and for months lived among the rural folk. They arc the happiest, gentlest and most hospitable people I ever saw. Their habits are frugal, though not especially energetic, and their mode of life is primitive, but clean and virtuous. The natives, for the most part, live in nttu mud huts. They subsist entirely on dried beef and tea made from a native hero leaf. Wnen they want meat they kill a beef on the pampas ani, after skinning and cleaning him, han^ the carcass up to dry in the blazing sun. After thu3 exposing it to the sua for fn?.i rlaua fh? mPAt is then in Drime condition for tao Argentinian pulato ifter it is cooked. A great thick hulk Df it is sliced o2 the necic or .aides an J, impaled on a wooden fork, is held oyer i dame until it quits s.zzting and crackling. Thea a oouutiful supply of salt and red pepper is sprinkled over the meat, a little grease and water are poure 1 over it and you hive a dish fit for thy Kods, when the tea is drawn aai ready to go with it. Tue better cla?3 of nativej usually keen a snail supply of coir^e corn meal in their nouses with wine 1 to make bread for distinguished guests, out | they never eat any of this brea.l tue-n* selves, nor do they see n to c.tre for iu." ?St. Louis Globe-Dnuocra:. A Simke That Hatclioi E;?g. Pythons, like birds, actually incubate the eirgs they lay. This was first ascertained at the Jardin de* Pla:ites, in Paris. JL'Ijo female arranges tier ia a conical heap, twiner herself around them so that her head surmounts the summit of tlie cone, ami thus can quickly perceive the approach of any ene.uy. She will retnaiu thus coiled for tvo months without taking food, though sh? has been kno.vn to drink copiously upon water being offered her by her keeper.? (Quarterly Review. j A POLYGLOT CITY. BOMB.VX AND ITS PROMINENT FEATURES. People From All Parts of the World i ?A Study In Varied Humanity ?Women Weighed Down With Jewelry. . GSsifcK OMB AY, writes til ffl li Winslow Anderson in tff j S J? the San Francisco lift I Chronicle, is one of I .ml I M the chief cities in lifted $ ?ff *n(^a' anc* *or beauty licf^S ' scenery, as well as In* commercial ad van f) I tages, it is unsur? passed by any other ^WvJP^v^^'ll'Eastern Clty* 11 is vW-^P^aiir ^u!U^ sit gated on one of the j ,i many islands that \ >(?5^S^abound 011 *n~ dian coast of the Arar VJ3?? ?bian Sea, having an area of about twenty-two square miles. The front of the city opens on a wide harbor which is studded witb|islands and jutting promontories, giving secure shel ter to the fleets of merchantmen. Bombay has a stormy history. It was the earliest settlement of the British in India. The island was ceded to the English crown in 1661 as part of the dowry of the infant Catharine of Portueal on her marriage with Charles II. In 1668 it was granted to the East India Company, and in 1773 Bombay Island was placed in a position of qualified dependence under the Governor of Bengal and Calcutta. It is now the seat of one of the greatest presidencies of the Emjmwl fes&a Mhl i [ tf-Ern .r=? jp-l? ONE OP THE HINDOO 1 pire of India. Prior to the English occupation it was under Portuguese and 1 Dutch and native rules, and many a fierce battle has been fought for its possession. Bombay is now a thriving city of nearly one million souls, and one hears more strange tongues spoken there than in any other place in the worW. Its temperature ranges from sevenly-flve degrees Farenheit to 115 degrees, with from seventy to 300 inches of rain yearly, and a daily tide of from fourteen to seventeen feet. The city is handsomely laid out and has many magnificent temples, mosques, palaces and public and private * ? j * buildings, vvnau iniercBteu us iuu&i, however, were the native quarters. The streets are narrow and tortuous, although I am bound to say they are cleaner than those of San Francisco. The houses are picturesque in the extreme, with a profusion of fine sculpturing, projecting stories, curious bay windows and cozy, sunny nooks latticed and matted, without window glass, where the fair daughters of India may be seen basking in the tropical sun without much more tVion a ofr?ncr of npnrls UlULlilLl^ UU bUCUl IUHU <* HM?Mg W for a waistband. There are mosques and Hindoo temples grotesquely carved and gaudily painted, but of all, the street scenes, with their throngs of people and sideshows and by-plays, are the most interesting. Here the tide of Asiatic humanity ebbs and dows in ceaseless streams. Nowhere, excepting perhaps in Constantinople, can one see livelier hues and gayer displays of humanity or a busier throng of city life. Here they are coming and going in endless crowds, Hindoo, Guzerati and Maratha. Here can be studied tbe brightest and darkest specimens of every clime?Arabs from Muscat, Persians from the Gulf, Afghans from the northern lrontier, black and shaggy Beluchis, negroes from Zanzibar, islanders from the Maldives and Laccadivbs, Malagashes, Malays and Chinese, Parsis, Jews, Lascar fishermen, Rajpoots, Fakirs, Sepoys, Sahibs and Europeans? many of them in gaj dresses or clothes of brilliant hues. The Indian lady is loaded down with silver and gold jewelry and precious gems. Her ears have many rings in them, some so large thai they reach her shoulders. Next comes the nose, with rings large enough for a bracelet. Occasionally li-Q^sJd ^ i! 1-^lnNiri HAIR DRESSING OW THE SIDEWALK. the lips are also ornamented. Then she has several necklaces of costly pearls, armlets, wristlets and anklets and inTmmprfthle rin<?s oil most of the tinkers aDcl toes, including the thumbs and great toes. An Indian lady'i jewelry was weighed on one occasiou and it was found to turn the scales at thirty-five pounds. The conventional dress for ladies consists of a piece of silk or gorgeously eolored cotton about five yards long and a halt a yard wide. This is wrapped about the body. The men have much les9 cumbrous clothing. Shoes they seldom trouble about. There are scores of public bathing establishments where men and women perform their ablutions and change their clothing. After each bath they rub cocoanut oil into th?ir heads and bodies. This prevents the skin from becoming too dry and crackf?\ A WATER CARRIER. ing, as it otherwUe would in the tropical nnn All fhpiT hnr^Pna are PArriPfl nn their heads, while their babies are carried astride their sides, as most Orientals do. All kinds of work are performed in the simplest possible manner. Rice and corn are ground between two stones; the upper one, with a handle near the edge, is revolved on the lower one, which is stationary. A small hole in the centre admits the grain. One or two women turn'this original grist mill for hours and so make flour. The bak 'Sn^ot^ iglM rEJTPLH8 AT BOMBAY. ing is equally crude. The flour is mixed into & batter with water and put on hot ashes to bake. This is the whole process. A fermented liquor is made from the juice of the palm tree. It is mixed with water and allowed to QUI 1111 ILL OUUj 4WttuvuvwMVM place, and alcohol and carbonic acid gas is the product. Thw diluted with water is the National drink, aud is known as "toddy," from the name of the palm? the palmyra?and can easily produce intoxication. It is a sweetened alcohol, water and carbonic acid gas mixture of ratber a pleasant taste. As a rule the Hindoos are a temperate people. One might travel in India for a month and never see an intoxicated person, for toddy if prohibited by their scriptures. \i/ HIGH CASTE BRAHMIN GIRL. The barber shops in India are extremely simple. A mat i3 spread on the road anywhere under a tree or in a shady nook. The barber always carries his razor and a pair of scissors with him. A small jug of water is obtained from the nearest pool, and this with a little palm oil constitutes the barber's armamentarium. The person to be shaved sits down on his haunches on oue side of the mat and the barber on the other. Oil is rubbed into the hair and beard, and the razor applied. Priests ure shaved clean, head and beard, one or more times each week. A? Aiirmna me water-camci jo au^uvi person in India. He fills a goat or pigskin at the nearest pool or river, slings it across bis shoulder and supplies water for drinking and cooking, for watering the garden and for sprinkling the streats. Crude as this method may seem, the streets are better sprinkled than those of San Francisco. The picture shows a water-carrier giving a man a drink. Cups are not used for drinking, as one caste could not drink out of the same cup that another caste drank from, so the hand is held to ' the mouth and water allowed to run into it and the mouth by tue very simple process of gravitation. The people of India are as simple- i minded and as trusting as children, pro- | vidin" oue knows how t:> take them. Let them once be deceived and they J never trust that individual again, hi many ways the English have accomplished wonders in India in railroading, commerce and government, but they i have also taught the people not to place j too much trust in their fellow men. Tne white man has robbed and swindled these poor simple minded children of the . tropics to such an extent that the Indian is now fully equipped with falsehoods ani deceit, and c&n nerer be relied upon / In a commercial transaction. Thty ask many, many times the value of their wares, show you one sampte and sell joaj a much cheaper one. The rule now in India is to offer one-fifth or one-quarter what they ask for everything, and yet the moment an Indian is made to understand that you are his friend and want to pay him the correct price for an article and that you do not want to swindle him, that moment he becomes ac confiding and gentle minded as a child. The people of India are very religious. They will die, if need be, for their ancient beliefs. Their domestic life is simple, loving and virtuous. Many of them practice polygamy because it is their religion. Many of them marry a plurality of wives until they are blessed ___ with a male heir, because he is the only one that can secure them a proper: burial. .They are exceedingly kind to their children and their household. Their uniform gentleness and kindness to all animals and livimr beinea excited our highest admiration and praise. Theji never eat animal food, because does it ot necessitate the taking of life? And; who is there in all India that dare take away that which he cannot give? To' r GRINDING BICE. take away one holy, precious life that only Lord Brahma?the Great Creator oi all things?can bestow? The Modern Thumb-Bin?:. One of the representative women of the day read a very clever paper in New York before that intellectual body of women known to the world as Sorosls. There was no newspaper report of her intellectual effort given for the benefit of the great world of women outside of Sorosxs, but we are told with minute detail that "a jeweled thumb-ring uasnea on me nana inac neia tae manuscript, and that the jewels were set thickly in the band and were of large size and great brilliancy.!' It is a fact that a practice which originated with kings of the Orient ia being monopolized by the queens of American society. Mrs. Charles H. Collis wears a beautiful thumb-ring set with sapphires and diamonds. Ella Wheeler Wilcox who writes so pathetically of the "narrow aisles of pain," wears a thumb-ring set with diamonds. Qa aloa r\naa +kn nnnnn a# tho AA. UV OMV UWOB VUU \|UWU Vi ?MV VVIBHW V|?~ era stage, Lillian Russell. Ella Proctor Otis has three thumb-rings, one set with Kg diamonds, and another set with rubies and diamonds, and the third, a EOMAN THUMB-BING. quaint old ring of Pcraian origin. A few men?among them Edmund Russell, tbo Delsartean apostle, and others who ought to know better?wear thumb-' rings. The custom originated with the signet ring of a king. The thumb, being the strongest of the fingers, was used to seal documents of royal significance. As it is worn now the thumbrincr is merelv a bauble.?Detroit Free -.-e, , - Press. Speed of Fish. Now that every effort is being made to increase the speed of ocean steamers it is interesting to know the speed with which different fish can pass through the water. For long distance swimming the shark may be said to hold the record, as he can outstrip the swiftest ships, apparently without effort, swimming and okvine around them, and ever on the I - * w 4 r lookout for prey. Any human being falling overboard in shark frequented waters has very little chauce to escape, so rapid is the action of the shark, the monster of the deep. Tae dolphin, another fast swimming tisb, is credited with a speed of considerable over twenty miles an hour. For short distances the salmon can outstrip every other fish, accomplishing its twenty-five miles an hour with ease. The Spanish mackerel is one of the fastest of food fishes, and cuts the water like a yacht. Predatory fishes a'e | geocrally the fastest swimmers.?industrial World. Not Foud of Freaks. I yplB 'You are the only jrirl T ever loved." iiTKon wo \rnnlr1 hotter mrt?I don't want to marry a freak."?Life. Successive generations of the Allin family of Harrodsbur_r, Ky., have neen in office continuously ai Circuit or County Clerk since 1786. The idea of ferrviag loaded freight cars across Lake Michigan is soon to be put into practice. The damage caused by the recent Western floods is estimated at something over $20,0C0,UQU.