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BETRAYED; A DARK MARRIAGE MORN. A Romance of Loue, Intrigue and Crime. BY MRS. ALICE P. CARRISTON. CHAPTER XXII.-(Continued.) He admired her like a rare plant, a beautiful object, an exquisite work, in whloh nature bad combined physical and moral grace with perfect proportion aud harmony. Bis deportment as slave neaz her was not long a performance. Our fair readers have, doubtless, remarked an odd fact, which is, that where cfinf imflnt of two feeble hu man beings has reached a certain point of maturity, chance never fails to fnrnish fatal occasion which betrays the secret of the two hearts, and suddenly launches the thunderbolt which has been gradually gathering in the clouds. This is the crisis of all love. This occasion presented itself to Clnra Denton and Warren Leland in the form of an unpoetio incident, with which the rag-picker and his little grandchildren were intimately connected. It was the end of the month. Leland had gone out after dinner to take a ride in the neighborhood. Night had already fallen, clear and cool; but as he could not see Mrs. Denton that evening, he be-, can to think only of being near her, and felt that unwillingness to work common to lovers, striving to kill time, which hung heavv on his hands. He hoped also that violent exercise might calm his spirit, which had never been more profoundly agitated. Still young and unpracticed in his pitiless systft-m n? wan troubled at the tnoucht of a victim bo pnre as Clara Denton. To trample on the life, the repose, ?nd the heart of each a woman, as the horse tramples on the grass of the road, with as little care or pity, was hard for a novice. As strange as it may appear, the idea of marrying her had occurred to him. Then he saia to himself that this weakness was in direct contradiction to his principles, and that she would cause him to lose forever the mastery over himself, and throw him back into the nothingness Of his past life. Yet, with the corrupt inspirations of hiB depraved soul, he foresaw that the moment he touched her fcat>ds with the lips of a lover, a new eentiment would spring up in her soul. As he abandoned himself to these passionate imaginings, the recollection of Amy Brownell came back suddenly to his memory. He grew pale in the darkness. At this moment ho was passing by the edge of a piece of woods a portion of which bad been clearod. It was not cban<e alone tbat had di.4 l.?-? * V? in Plo?o ICUIUU Ullli IV bUlD viiuu J^vi4?va lovod this spot and had frequently taken him there, and on the preceding evening, accompanied by her daughter and Mildred Lester. nad visited it with him. The site was a peculiar one. Although not far from houses, the woods were very wild, as though a thousand miles distant from any other place. You would have said it was a virgin forest, untouched by the ax of the pio neer. Enormous stumps without bark, trunks of gigantic trees, covered pellmell the declivity of the hill, and barricaded here and there, in a picturesque jnanuor. the current of the brook which ran into the valley. A little higher up the dense wood of tufcod trees contributed to diffuse that religious ligbt half over the rocks, the brushwood, and the fertile soil, and on the limpid water, which is the charm and honor of old, neglected woods. In this solitude, and on quite a space of cloared ground, rose a poor cottage. Thi< was Jennie's borne, and here bier children and her father lived with her. The old ruR-pioker Interested Clara Denton greatly, probably because, like Leland, he had a bad reputation. She lored the children, too, who, though dirty, were beautiful as angels, and she pitied their mother. The little ones had been quite j'il. -Clara had helped to nurse them, and ap.porcaatly they had recovered; indeed, only the evening before, Leland and the party with him had met hem wandering in the woodB, careless and happy as children ought to be. Leland slowly walked his horse over the rocky nnd winding path on tbe slope of tbe hillock. This was the moment vhen the ghost of Amy Brownell had, as it woro, risen before him, and he believed he could almost Lear her cry. All at-once this illusion guve place to a <trnnaa ra Thn voinn of ft womun plainly called him by name, in accents of distress: "Mr. Loland. Mr. Leland!" Stopping his horse on the instant, be felt an icy shodder pass through his frame. CHAFTEK XXIII. AT THE HAG-PICKEBS' COTTAGE. The surae voice rose higher and called i him iigain. He recognized it as the voice of Clara Denton. Looking around him in the obscure lkht with a rapid glance, he saw a light ?hiniDg through the foliage in the direction of Jennie's cottage. Gaided by this, be put epurs to his borne, crossed the cleared ground up the &ill6ide, and found himself faco to face with Clwra. bhe was standing on the threshold of tbe oottage, her head bare, and ber beautiful 'hair disheveled under a long black weiL She was giving a farm band some liasty-orders. When she saw Leland approaching she ?om* toward him. "Pardon me,"?i?e said, "but I thought 1 recognized you, and so I called >ou. I am bo greatly distressed??o distressed! Tbo two children of this poor woman are ?iuk again?they ape dying! What in to be done? Come in?come in, I beg of y?n!" He leaped to the ground, aecured his borse, and followed Clara intotbe cottage. Tike two children were lyiug side by ?ide on a little bed. immovable, rigid, tncir eyes open ana tne.r pupils wtranRely dilated, their faces red and agitated by trnuge convulsions. Tkey soemod to be iu the ag-ony of death. A doctor wm loaning over them, looking at them with fixed, anxious and dexpnirine eyes. 'J'ho mother was on her knees, her head clasped in her hands, and weeping bitterly. At tb? loot of the bed stood the ragpiekor, with his savage- mien?his arms cronaed and his eyos dry. He shuddered ut intervals, and murmured in a hoarse, uollow voice: "Doth of thoui< Both of tbem!" Then iio relapsed iulo his mournful attitude. The doctor approached Warren quickly. "iir. Leland, s?id he, "what ean this I be ieve it to be poisoning, bat c..n detect no definite symptoms; otherwise, tt)<* mother shoald know?but sho knows nothing! A sunstroke, perhaps; but as both were struck at the same time? and then at this season?ah. my dear sir, out {jrof3f>8ioii is very useless sometimes." "I n't it a relapse?" .No, no! nothing at nil like the recent il)nr c? x^eiaca mtde further ana rajaa inquiries. They had sought the doctor, who was dining with Mr. Metcalf's family an hour before. He hxd hasteued, aud found the children in a state of fearful congestion. . It appeared they had fullen into this state when tirdt attacked, and became delirious. Leland conceived an idea. lie asked to see the clothes the children had worn during the dey. The mother gave them to him. The doctor touched hiB forehead, and turned over with a feverish hand the rough waistcoasts, the knee-breeches, searched the Dockets, and found dozen* ot a small fruit like cherries, hall crushed. "A species of deadly nightshade!" he exclaimed. "That idea struck me several times, but how could I be sure? You cannot fiud it within sixty miles of here, except in the vicinity of this cursed spot ?that T Am sure of." "Do you think there is yet time?" asked Lei and, in a low voice. "The children seem to me to be very ill." "Lost, 1 am afraid; bnt everything depend;* on the time which has passed, the quantity they have taken, and the remedies I oan procure." The good physician consulted quickly with Clara, wno found that she had not 'in her country pharmacy the necessary remedies, or oounter-irritants. which the urgency of the case demanded. He was obliged to content himself with the essence of coffee, which Jennie prepared in haste, and to send to New Milford for the other things needed. "To New Milford!" exclaimed Clara. "Good heavens! it is more than ten miles ?it ie night, and we shall have to wait probably throe or four hours!" Leland heard this. Doctor, write your prescription," he said; "my horse is at the door, and with him I can do the twenty miles in ad hour; in one hour I promise to be here again." "Oh, thanks!" exclaimed Clarn. He took the prescription which the doctor had traced on a leaf of his pad, mounted bis horse and departed. The highway was, fortunately, not faJ distant. When he reached it he put spurs to hii horse, and rode like the phantom horseman. It was 9 o'clock when Clara Dentoc witnessed his departure; it was a fen moments after 10 when she heard the tramp of his horse at the foot of the hill, and ran to the door of the cottage to greet him. The condition of the two children seemed to have grown worse in the -? A - ?? 1 VM4 41>A It A/I rrvAaf VtAnAO interval, uui tuo UOU 5>V<IV in the remedies,which Leland was tc bring. She waited with impatience, and received him like the aawn of the last hope. She contented herself with pressing his hand, when, breathless be descended from his horse. Bnt, womanlike, she threw herself on the animal, who was covered with foam, and steaming like a stove. "Poor Sultan," she 6aid, embracing him in her two arms?"dear Sultangood Sultan! You are half dead, are you not? But I love you well. Go in quickly, Mr. Leland. I will attend to Sultan." And while the young man entered the cottage, she confaded Sultan to the farm hand, with orders to take him to the stable, and a thousand minute directions to take good care of him after his noble conduct. The doctor had to obtain the aid of Leland to pass the new medicine through the clenched teeth of tbe unfortunate While* Kftth TIL'ATA AnaADP^ in this work, Clara was sitting on a stool with her head resting against the wall. The doctor suddenly raised his eyes and fixed them on her. "But, mv dear Mrs. Denton," ho said, j-ou are iil. You have had too much excitement, and the air in this poor place is very bad. You muBt go home." "I really do not feel very well," she murmured. "You must go fit once. "We 'shall send you the news. Your father's hired man will take you home." She raised herself, trembling; but one look from Jennie arrested her. For this poor woman, it seemed that Providence deserted her with Clara Denton. "No!" she said, with a divine 6weetness; "I will not go. I shaH only breathe a little fiesh air. I will remain until they are safe, I promise you," and left the room smiling upon the poor woman. After a few moments the doctor 6aid to Lei ind: "My dear sir, I think you; but I really have no further need of your services; so you. too, may go and rest yourself, lor you are growing pale also." Leland, exhausted by his long ride, relt sunocaiea oy me aimospnere ui iue cottage, and consented to the suggestion of the physician, tilling him he would not go far. As he put his foot outside of the cottage, Clara, who was sitting before the door, quickly rose and threw over his hie shoulders a cloak which had been brought for her. Sbe then reseated herself without speaking. "But you cannot remain here all night," he said. "J shou'd Ve too uneasv nt home." * uut tne nigni is utunp ana coiu. nniii I make yon a fire?" "If you wi6h, Bbe said. "Let us see where we can make this little fire. In the midtt of the. woods here it is impossible; we should nave a conflagration to finish the picture. Can you walk? Then tnke my arm and we will go and search for a place for our en campinent." She leaned lightly on his arm nnd made a few steps with him toward the forest. "Do jou think they are saved?" she asked. "I hope so," he replied. "The doctor's face in more cheerful." "Oh! how glad I nm!" Both of them stumbled over a root and commenced laughing like two children 101 several minutee "TVe shall soon be in the woods," said i Clara; "and I declare I can go no farther. Good or bad, I shall cbcose this Bpot." They were still quite close to the cotcage, but the branches of tha old trees wbich bad been spared by the axe spread like a somber dome over their heads. Near by was a lL"ge rock, slightly covered with mo^s and a number of old trunks of trees, on which Clara took her seat. "Nothing could be better," r"Md Lelond, gayly. "I maxt collect my iL.t^rials." A moment after he rei ppeaied, bringing in his arms brushwoop, and also a heavy blanket which he had found somewere. He cot on his knees in front of the rock, prepared the fuel, and lighted it with a match. When the flame began to dicker on the rustic hearth, Cli-rrf trembled with joy and held out both hands tp the blaze. *. "Heavens! how nice it it!" she raid, 'and then this is amusing; one would bay we had been BhipwreckeJ. Now, Mr. Lelnnd, if you would be perfect, go and see what the doctor Bays." He ran to the cottage, and quickly returned. "W?U!" she exclaimed. "A great de?.l of hope." "Oh! bow glad I am!" She pressed his hnnd. "Sit down there," she said. He sat down on a rock near her, and replied to her eager questions. He renotit.A/1 in detail his conversation with the doctor. She listened at first with interest, but little by little, wrapping her head in her veil, and restins it on the boueh interlaced btnind her, she deemed to oe , uncomfortably renting from fatigue. ! "You are likely to fall asleep tnore." be aid. laughing. "Quite so," she murmured?smiled, and went to *leep. Her sleep resembled death. it was bo profound, and so calm whr the beating 1 of ber heart, so regular her breatbiDg. Leluud knelt down again by the hearth, to listen breathlessly and to gaze u, on her. From time to time be seemed to meditate, and the t-olitude was omy disturbed by th/j rustline of the leaves. tlie eyes lollowed tHe flickering of the flame, sometimes resting on the white rock, sometimes on the woods, sometimes on the arches of the high trees, as though he wished to fix in his memory all the details of this sweet scene. Then his gaze would rest on the young woman, clothed in her beauty, grace and confiding repose. What heavenly thoughts descended at that moment on this somber soul?wbat hesitation, what douot assailed it? What images of peace, truth, virtue, and happiness pHBsed into that brain full of storm, and cnased away phantoms of the cnnhiBtriAfl he cherished? He himself knew, but never told. The briBk crackling of the wood awakened her. She opened her eves in surprise,' ana as Bhe saw the young man kneeling before her, addressed him: "How are they now, Mr. Leland?" He did not know how to tell her thai for the laat hoar he had but one thought, and that was of her. The doctor appeared suddenly before them. "They are saved, Mrs. Denton," he said, abruptly; "come and see for yourself, and then return home, or we shall have to cure you to-morrow. You are very imprudent to hare remained in these damp woods, and it wsb foolish of Mr. Leland to let you do so." She took the doctor'6 arm and re-entered the cottage. The two children, now roused from the dangerous torpor, but who seemed still terrihed by the threatened death, raised their little hends. She made them a sign to keep quiet, and leaning over their pillow, kissed them. - ? * - 3 "To-morrow, my darlings, ~ sue bbiu. But the mother, half laughing, half crying, followed Clara step by step, speaking to her, and kissing her hand. "Let her alone," cried the doctor, querulously "Go home, Mrs. Denton. Mr. Leland, take her there." She was going out, when the old ragpicker, who had not before spoken, and who was sitting in the corner of the room as if stupefied, rose suddenly, seized the arm of Mrs. Denton, who, slightly terrified, turned round, for the gesture of the man was so violent as to seem menacing; his eyes, hard and dry, were fixed upon her, and he continued to squeeze her arm with a contracted hand. . "My friend," she said, although rather uncertain. "i'es, your friend," muttered the old rag-pioker, with a hollow voice; "yes, remember! whatever comes, your fri^ndl" He could not continae; his mouth worked a6 if in a convulsion, hiB frightful weeping shook his frame; he then threw himself on his knees, and they saw a shower of tears torce themselves through the hands clasped over his face. "Take her away, sir," said the doctor. Leland gently pushed her out of the cottage and followed her. She took his arm and descended the rugged path which led to her home. CHAPTER XXIV. AN ASTOUNDING PBOPOSITION. It was a walk of fifteen minutes from the woods. Half the distance was passed over without interchanging a word. Once or twice, when the rays of the moon pierced through the clouds, Leland thought he saw her wipe away a tear. He guided her cautiously in the dark"i?knnoli *Vio lioht fiten of the "COD, a??UVUQM *MV --0 r younsj lady was scarcely 6lower in the obscurity. Her springy step pressed noiselessly the fallen leaves?avoided without assistance the ruts and marshes, as though endowed with a magical clairvoyance. When they rcached a cross-road and Leland seemed uncertain, she would indicate tbe way oy a sngnt pressure or tne arm. Both were no doubt embarrassed by the long silence?it was Clara who first broke it. "You have been very good this evening, Mr. Leland," she said, in a low and slightly agitated voice. "Ah! I love you so!" said the young mtui. , He pronounced these words in such a deep, impassioned tone that Clara Denton trembled and stood still in the road. "Mr. Leland!" she exclaimed. "Well?" he demanded, in a strange tone. "Great heavens! What is this? But? but it can be nothing. I must have misunderstood you!" "You did not, ma^am. Bnt I have said either too mucb or too little. I will endeavor to explain the error." His voice was calm, bnt she recoiled a step or two ana stood trembling before him. "What I said just now," he went on, "ia no more nor Iobs than the truth. I love you?love you as you deserve to be loved, with nil my soul aud might and strength. I never kDew what love was before." Clara stood tnere trembling, but made no fl'gn. "But don't fear that I would take advantage of this solitude?of jour loneliness. Believe me, you are sacred to me." "I have no fear,"'she whispered. "Uh, do! nave iio ie irr ne rrptwmu, iu a tone of voice infinitely softened and teuder. "It is I who am afr.id? it is I who tremble?you see it; for since I have spoken, all is over. I exiectnothinamoro ?I hope for nothing; this night has uo possible to-morrow. I know it. Your nu sband I d are not be?your lover I should not wish to be. I nak nothing of you? understand well! I should like to bum my heait at jour feet, as on an altar? this is nil. "Do yon believe me? Answer! Arc you ca'm? Are you confident? Will you hear me? May I tell you what image I carry of you in the secret recesses of my heart? "Dear creature that you are, you (lo not ?ab, you do not know how great is your worth, and 1 fear to tell you, so much ami afraid of stripping you of your charms, or one of your virtues. If you had been proud of yourself, as you have a r ght to be, you would be less perfect, i n<i I should love you lets. "But I wish to tell you how lovnble and how charming you are. You alone do not know it. You alone do not see the soft Hum nf vniirlnnre evas?the reflection of your heroic soul on your young but serene brow. " Your chnrm is over everything you do ?your slightest gesture is engraven on me. Into the most ordinary duties of every-day life you carry a peculiar grace, like a joung priestess wno recites her daily devotions. Your band, yonr touch, your breath purifies everything?even the mont humble and the most wicked beinga ?and myself first of all! "uh, how I am astonished at the words which I pronounce, and the sentiments which animate me, to whom you have mode clear new truths. Yes, all the rhapsodies of the poets, all the loves of the martyrs, I comprehend iu your presence. ThiB is trutn itself. I uuderst nd those who died for their faith by torture ?because I should like to Buffer for \ou ?because I believe in you?because I respect jon?I cherish you?I adore you!" He stopped, shivering, and h i)f prostrating himself before her, seized the end of her veil and kissed it. " Now," continued he. with & kind of crato tadness, "go, Mrs. Denton; I have ior^otten tvu ioug you require repose. Purdon me?proceed. I shwll follow you at a distauce, until you reach your homo, to protect you?but fear nothing from me." Clara Denton had listened, without onoa interrupting him even by a Bigu. "\i if thi? vnrmcr mAn >' U' UH HUUIU UJJIJf ?WI? ?*? >? J ? more. Probably she understood, for the first tirno in her life, oue of those sonfjs of lore?one of thoBe hymns living \?ith paseion, which every woman wishes to hear before she dies. Should she die because she had heard If She remained witnout speaking, us though just awakening from a dream, and lot tall iliese words, soft and feeble, like a sign: "My God!" AfUr Nnother panse. she advanced a few steps on the roud. "<jive me your oriu as X?r as my House, Mr. Leland," she said. He obeyed her, and they continued their -walk toward the house, the light of which they soon saw. They did not exchange a word?only as they reached tho gate, Mrs. Denton turned and made him a slight gesture with her hand, in 6ign of adieu. In return, Leland bowed low, and withdrew. This man had been sincere. When true passion surprises the human soul, it breaks down all resolves, sweeps away all logic, and crushes all calculations. In this lies its grandeur, and also its danger. "When, this sublime folly possesses you, it elevates you?it transfigures you. It can suddenly convert a common man into a poet, a coward into a hero, an egotist into a martyr, and Don Juan himself into an angel of purity. With women?and it is to their honor ?this metamorphosis can be durable, but it is rarely so with men. Once transported to this stormy sky, women iraDKly accept tneir proper juuiuu, and the vicinity of th? thunder does not disquiet them. Passion is their element?they feel a.t home there. There are few women worthy of the nnme -who are not ready to put in action all the words which passion has caused to bubble up from their lips. If they speak of fligftt, they are ready for exile. If they talk of dying, they are ready for death. Men are far less consistent in their ideas. It was not until late the next morning that Leland regretted his outbreak of sincerity; for, during the remainder of the nisnt. still filled with his excitement, agitated and shaken by the passage of the god, sunk into a confused and feverish reverie, he was incapable of reflection. But when, on awakening, he surveyed the situation calmly and by the plain - * - j llgni ox uay, ana iDougutwei uie petw ing evening and ite events, be conld not fail to recognize the fact that he had been cruelly duped by his own nervous system To love Clara Denton was perfectly prorier. and be loved her still?for she was a person to Co lovea ana cresirea; but to elevate that love or any other, as the master of nis life, instead of its play* thing, was one of those weaknesses interdicted by his system more than any other. In fact, he felt, he had spoken, and noted like a schoolboy on a holiday. H? had uttered words, made promises, and taken engagements on himself which no one 1 Viim WA UOiUUJUUOll VI U4UJ. I V wmwuv. vvM.M have been more ridiculous. Happily nothing was lost. He hnd yo? time to give his love thnt subordinate place which this sort of phantasy should occupy in the life of man. He had been imprudent, but th:s very imprudence might finally prove of service to him. All that remained of this scene was a declaration?griicofully mnde, spontaneous, natural?wh'ch subjected Clara Denton to the double charm of a mystic idolatry which pleased her sex, and to that manly violence which conld not displease her. He had, therefore, nothing to rej?ret, althongh he certainly would have prcferret, taking the point of view from his principles, to have displayed less childish weakness. But what course should he now adopt? Nothing could be more simple. He would go to Mrs. Deuton, implore her forgiveness, throw himselt again at her feet, promising eternal respect, and succeed. Consequently, at about (en o'clock, Leland 'nrote the following note: "Dear Madam: I cannot leave without bidding you adieu, and once more demanding your forgiveness. , "Will vou permit me? "W. Lvland." fhie lettor he was abont sending. when he received one containing the following words: "I shall bo happy, sir, if yon will call apon me to-day, abont foor o'clock. "ciiara Denton." Upon which Leland threw his cwn note into the tire, as entirely superfluous. No matter what interpretation he pnt upon this note, it was an evident Big? that love had triumphed, nnd that virtu* was defeated; for, nfter what had passed the prev;ons evening between Clara Denton and himself, there was only oni? course for n virtuous woman to take, aud that was never to see him again. He soliloquized on the weakness of fTO BE CONTINUED.! An Authority 0 i Tar lo*. Tom Haskill, a laborer residing on Tehama street, near Fourth, knows a great deal more about turtles now than he did when ho btarted for a stroll along Market street the other afternoon. A large turtle lying on the sidewalk attracted his intention and he stopped to admire the ungainly reptile. A couplo of gentlemen also stopped to look, and one of theni remarked that turtles were said to live longer tnan anything else under the sun. "About how old would you take this one to be?" said one of the men to Haskill. "When I was catching them fellows around New York we never took the old ones to market because they wero too tough. You tell how old a horse is by his teeth, and of course you do the same thiug with a turtle,"' said Haskill, as he stooped down und tried to pry open the reptile's mouth with a pocket knife. At la3t he succeeded in opening the strong beaklike inoulh and then he rna nf Vii? hpBvr broiran in fJIUUCVJ VUt ^ v.. J side to keep it open. The turtle did not miud beinc; lied u^out, but it did object to having its mouth used that way, and it shut its jaws like a two-spr.ng bear trap. Husk ill yelled: "Take the beast off. He's eating the loot off me." Some oqo got a piece of iron and forced open the big beak. The in jured mau was taken to a drug store, where a burgeon fo'Jnd every toe on the right for>t badly bruised. The foot was dressed and Haskill went home. ?San Francisco Examiner. A i'am no Old Grizzly. In the Gray's Harbor Country of "Washington there has been a famous grizzly lor ten years or more. His habitat ia in the Big Creek neighborhood, a few miles south of Montosano. The settlers all pronounce it a grizz'y, and one of immense size. No one has yet had the courage to attemntto kill it, but all get out of the way assojn as possible. It is said to b? in large as a good-iized ox. and E. L. Wade, wno mjisurcd its footprints, lound iticai to i?e fourteen inches long. It is t'le only "frizzly bear ever heard of in that section of the State. ?Sin Francisco Eximiner. There Are Miiiera.s i:i tireeiiia >u. Greoalund is n high, mountainous region, risinqr to a height of 10,001) feet above the sea, inclusive of the ice and snow which covcr it. It contains coal nod several other valuable minerals, and its gigantic granite shoulder* project out of the ice wherever it is exposed to the rays of the long summer of nearly ail months.?New Orleans Picayune. That yachtsman who beat the Em peror of Germany may bo a gowl allor, but he it a bad diplomat. i HOP HARVEST. PICTURESQUE SCEMES IN CE: TJKAL NEW YORli. An Invading Army of Hop Pickei *roin Surrounding Towns?How tlie Hops Are Pinked ?Busy Scenes. . ffijN a realistic illui -i Iff trated account < the annual hop har vest in Centrai Ne' York, which is tl rffCjuljCS headquarters of tl y?iE3|wjpfc/f hop industry in tk xfewfriKdU^ East, Frank Leslie Weekly savs: V- This hop-pickin beginB the first r pecond week in September. It depend! of course, on the weather and the kirn of hops growD. This year the season : backward, and late hops may yet h nipped by the frost. The vines must t stripped without deluj, and ao there : a great demand ior "help.*' fiverybodj without regard to age, sex, or previou condition of servitude, is welcomed Great preparations are made to feed th invading army of workers. The house TIIE LAST wife prepares big "batches" of cakcs .pics aud crullers. The hop "bands' like to go where there is a good table Thoee who set a poor table soon becomi known and are avoided. Th majority of pickers come from near-b; towns aiid cities, Utica, Oneida, Komi r.nd Syracuse furnishing their quota The other day I met a heavy wagon-loa< of women, young and old, going to thi fragrant fields. The party came fron Syracuse, so I heard. They weie all 11 high spirits, laughing, joking, callin< out to every passer-by, and breakinj forth at short intervals into song. Th girls seemed happy in the thought tha at last they were out of the city and ii the couQtry, where there is no style an< no policemen. When 4'help" is scarce the hop-growers advertise in the news papers for pickers. Their tempting in luccmente, which appear in the "want' column, must not be taken literally, a the following will show. "WantedFifty hop-pickers for the finest place 11 Otsego County: ODe minute's walk froi the village; fine table board; boating fishing, ridiug, dancing and music; far both ways." Some notices 6tate tha "women are preferred." The chief r?i son is that women are quiet, industrious and give less trouble than the mcc In days gone by the hop-yard wu often the scene of fierce fighting an bloody affrays. The "roughs" fror * * * " 1?? J L*an VftTC cmes were invoiveu iu uiuu?eu and provoked geueral disorder. Sorrn times the presence of the women-fol rather added to than allayed the trouble To nip disturbance in the bud the arow ers have deputy constables sworn, ani tne hop bands arc afraid to iiicito mis chief when they are almost sure of be j ing lugged olr to the village "lock-up, fined, or sent to jail. In large hop-vard from 100 to 200 people are employer Afnct of ihpsp are either boarders c lodgeil dunng the season. One of th largf-tt hop-yards in the country lies i | i T1AC01 fe*v miles south of Wuterville. The yard with its seemingly endless rows of poles is as wn'.l kept as a garden. Here, i Sep tembcr, a ;;ang of pickers herd lil; do<rs iu a kennel. They room in rud cabins fitted with "buuks" io Bower lodging house style. Two or three yoai a?o somtvhop growers had Italian3 com 1 from New York. The ''dagos'' prove clumsy and inefficient, and in most eas< the experiment has not been repesitsc i Perhaps the most expert hop pickers ar the iuuiuii* uad half-breeds Jroiu York and Canadian reservations. They have their own food supplies and cxik for themselves.. They are peaceable, industnous pe6ple. Once in a while, daring the picking season, a brave takes too much ''fire-water,'' but more often ; after the season is over, when he has s been paid. Many a grower tends his hired man with a large wagon iu which pickrrs are conveyed to the yard in the morning and back to their homes in the PICKING 'I night. It is surprising now many jvuuv, people flock to the yards and take part in the picking. Many look forward to the hop crop frotn year to year as the chance to make a little ready money. About the time that the pale saffron > tint in the eastern sky turns into a rose ' glow, the pickcrs are at work stripping the vines. The sharp and easier morniDg air is saturated with a cloying odor of some kind; soon the nostrils are tickled by the pugent aroma of hops, and the lungs drink in to their full the potent influences of the vines. The hands of the picker, which, whether he be a Pharisee or not, he has little chance of washing before meat, are begrimed' with the pollen, or "gold dust," some of I which is-neewwarily swallowed and aftftr-1 LOAD OP HOPS. , | ward acts as a tonic anl sedative. Tb " beneficial effects of bops as cured for . browing purposes are well know. Aav 2 hop picker can tell you of the wonders e wrought by a fortnight's stay in the hop* y yards. It is as good as a month's out5 ing by the seashore; better than . doctor's pills and bills?so say those who 3 have tried this simple prescription. e The picturesque side of hop picking is i seen in the morning hours, when tbe 3 dark-green vines with their yellowish y strobiles o2er a highly-elaborate backX j ground or setting to the moving human e j figures. All over the yard there is life 11 and activity. Here are glimpses of color a I ?a navy-blue blouse, a bright red rib3 j bon. or a gay striped shawl; and here j the Desartian pose and posturings or strong-limbed young men and women. I and the quick movements of the supple " I Indian aud swarthy half-breed pickers. ' s | From diffire.it points in the yard come - j bits of song?a girl's sweet voice, a j | boy's shrill treble, or a mans deep bass. 11 ' Yes; the American girl picking hops , I compares well with the Chinese e "Lady Picking Mulberries." She is j ;t just as "cute." just as bewitching, i Then there is something about this hop i, picking that breaks through manly i. reserved and maidenly modesty. The is boys and girls side by side whisper d | short messages for two ears; merry je3ts n I and sharp repartees are bandied from lip 3' to lip; often there is a sly pressure of ;- 1 hands which is explained when the k ; day's picking is ovef.. ;. j The hop crop is picked in boxes which 1 hold from seven to eight bushels. These rt j boxes are ingeniously constructed and i- have four compartments combined in a ! main box. There are four pickers to a box. two on a side, each one having his s or her own fection to fill. Then there I. are ''pole-pullers" who attend to some >r six or eight pickers, or to four or five if ie the crop is light. These men pull the a poles from the ground and cut the hop XG HOPS. , vines near the root. The poles and i, strings rest on a support at the end of n the box for the convenience of the pick... ! TUn ?mllap id a la.* u hr?T- Hndor. U j CI **. A JL?V puiioi 10 Uiou vwM 7 " J seeing that leaves are not mixed in with y j r)i?: hops. He also "keep9 tally" of the i number of bushels or boxes picked, e VVheu a box or section is tilled, the d "tender" is notified and the contents are is emptied into ft sack. Twice a day the 1. -aclcs tire gathered and taken to a kiln?n e the hop-houoe and there dried. The f hops must fcc lightly and evenly scat f?>m,l nnf rroooa/l /1/>nrn rtr uvu uw IT u wi pavnw* After being subjected to a beat nevei rising above one hundred and thirty do greet, they are bleached with brim ?x>nc to the right color. Ths hop-pickers are paid by the box, and according to whethet- they board themselves or not The rates of wages are regulated usually by the Hop Growers' Association, whicl fixes the scale just before the season, opens. This year the prices are twenty. BOPS. tire ceuta per box with hoard, aud fortyfive cents per box without boartl. There is a wido difference in the amount which a picker will gather in a day, ranging all the way from two boxes for a blower worker to four and even live boxes for an expert one. The competition between these experts is not the less keen because it is good-natured. The rivals have a "setting"?that is, three rows on each side of the box, and six poles from the end?and the, boxes and pickers mo7c forward to another setting. The morning hours pass all too quickly, when dinner-time comes. Many of. the nickers bring their own lunches. and so, in some shady nook or secluded corner, or beneath the spreading bcwwhes of a big tree, the"noonday meaJ j ' * 'i ' IVC'ifiT _ II - I is spread, with the green sod lor a table. It is one of the features of the day?this eating, gossiping, laughing time. Dinner over, the work goes on, but the afternoon hours seem long drawn-out. The young folk grow restless and tired. Oh, if something would only happen ! The expected does happen when some* one cries, 4'flop sack!" Then, if the picker be a comely lasa, she must be dumped in her own box, before it can be properly ^nplied. Again, the mis-, chievous boys claim a kiss when the/ ' find a vine which grows in the form of the letter 0. The gray shadows of the autumn sun creep foot by foot over the hop-yard, and the enu of the day's work is announced by a shout and a jell that would not disgrace Oaondaga Indians. Thereis a general rush, or "break," for home and supper. In lar*e hop-yards, where a hundred or more "hands" are employed, there is something going on every evening during the picking season. After supper, a circle of choice spirits will gather on the moonlit side of the kiln, and there play "kissing games"? "postotfice'* and "forfeits"?and sing Gospel hymns and also popular son?s. " - *-? 1 The hop dances are often wua auu boisterous affairs, &ad need to be seen to be enjoyed. Coud?n*cd Milk. Condensed milk is au American invention, and the method in foreign countries, as France and Switzerland, a* well as in England, where the basinet is now carried ou, is precisely the same as the American way. This is tc? evaporate the water from the milk by steam heat in vacuum pans, at suca a low temperature as will entirely avoid danger of burning it. So that not only is steam needed to keep up the vucuum by air -- ---- t pumps and remove tne vapor irum mo puns, but to furnish the beat. A tenhorse power boiler, or one to tarnish , ' steam for a ten-horse power eugine, would do all the work for a small factory using 1UOO pounds of milk daily. A two-horse power engine would do the pumping required to keep She vacuum periect. This quantity of milk wiil furnish one-fourth as much condensed. ?New York Times. { A remarkable specimen of silver ore has just been obtained from the Mollie Gibson mine at Aspen, Col. It is a block twenty-two inches long, eighteen inch*, wide and eight inches thick, weighs 400 poundn and is said to assay eighty-eight per cent, silver.