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nr?rn A\/r-n^ B? I KAYtLUJ OF. A DARK MARRIAGE MORN. A Romance of Love, Intrigue and Crime. ' ~ BY MRS. ALICE P. CARRISTON CHAPTER XXVII. THE LIGHTNING'S FLASH IN THE CLEAR SET. Flora had closed her eyes to conceal ber tears. She opened them at the instant Slyme seized her hand and called her "poor angel." Seeing the man on his knees, she could I not comprehend it, and only exclaimed, simply: "Are you mad, Mr. Slyme?" "Yes, 1 nm mad!" Slymq, threw his hair back with a romantic gesture common to bim and, he believed, to the poets. "Yes, I am mad with love and with pity, for I see your sufferings, pure and noble victim!" Flora only stared in blank astonishment. "Repose yourself with confidence," he continued, "on a heart that will be a?- i Toted io yon until death?a heart into which your tears now roll to its mont eacred depths." Flora did not wish her tears to roll to such a distance, so she dried them. A man on his knees before the woman he adores must appear to her either sublime or ridiculous. Unfortunately the attitude of Sly me, at once theatrical and awkward, did not seem snblime to Flora. To her lively imagination it was irresistibly ludicrous. A bright gleam of amusement illumined her charming countenance; she bit her lips to conceal it, but it shone out of her eyes neverthelesa One should never kueel unless sure of rising conqueror. Otherwise, like Slyme, he exposes himself to be laughed at. T''? " w ITIavo nroralv J IUB6, mr. oi^iuC} ooiu Xiwawj v?j? i "This book has evidently bewildered you. Go and take some rest and we will forget this; only yon must never forget your* I elf again in th.s manner." Slyxne rose. He was livid. "Mrs. Cleveland," be said, bitterly, "the I ' love of a great beart can never be an offense. Mine at least would have been sincere ; mine would liave been faithful; mine would not have been an infamous snare!" The emphasis of these words displayed o evident an intention, the countenance of Flora changed immediately. She moved uneasily on the lounge. "What do you mean, Mr. Slyme?" "Nothing, ma'am, which you do not know, I think," he replied meaningly. She rose. *Y<m shall explain your meaning immediately to me, sir 1" she exclaimed; "or later, tony husband." "But your sadness, your tearB," cried the secretary, in a tone of admirable sincerity; "these made me 6ure you were not ignorant of it !** "Of what? How he hesitates ! Speak, man!" "I am not a wretch I I love you and pity you!?that is all;" and Slyme sighed rtAAYtlV "And why do you pity me?" She spoke haughtily; and though Slyme had never suspected this imperiousness of manner or of languttge, he reflected hurriedly on the point at which he had arrived. More sure than ever of success, after a moment ne took from his pocket a folded letter. It was the one with which he had proTided himself to confirm Flora's suspicions, now awakened for the first time. In profound silence he unfolded it and handed it to her. r t . She hesitated a moment, then seized it. A single glance recognized the writing, for she nad often exchanged notes with \ Cora. Words of the most burning passion terminated thus: "Always a little jealous of Flo; half vexed at having given her to you. For she is pretty, and?but // l am beautiiui, am I not, my beloved? and above all, I adore you!" At tb? first word Flora became fearfolly pale. Finishing, she ottered a fearful groan, re-read tbe letter, and returned it to Slyme, as if unconscious of what she was doing." For a few seconds she remained motionlese?petrified?her eyes fixed on vacancy. A world seemed rolling down and crushing her heart. Suddenly she turned, passed with rapid steps into her boudoir; and Slyme heard the sound of opening and shutting drawers. A moment after she reappeared with bat and cloak, and crossed tbe boudoir witn the same stroug and rapid step. Sl.vmo, terrined to death, rushed to top her. "Mm. Cleveland!" he criod, throwing himself before her. She waved him aside with an imperious gesture of her hand. He trembled * and obeyed, and she left the boadoir. A moment later she was on the avenue, going toward Broadway. It was now near mii<night; cold, damp weather, with the rain falling in great j droDs. The few pedestrians still on the | broad pavement turned to follow with their eyes this majestic lady, whotte gait seemed hastened by some errand of life or death. But in New York nothing is snrprising, for people witness all manner of things there. Therefore, the 6trange appearitn<-e of Flora did not excite any extraordinary attention. A few men smiled and nodded; others threw a few words of raillery at her. Boih were unheeded alike. Bea< hing Madison Square, she stopped near the fountain, 'I ho sound of tbe falling water can ht her e r. She leaned against a tree, and gazed into the agitated pool; then bowing her hend, she sighed a groaning sigh, and turned back. Hurrying up Fifth avenue, she pasted ' her own door, and soon reached the Ellis, ton mansion. Arrived there, the unfortunate child knew not what to do, nor even why she had come. She had some vague design, as though to assure beraslf pxlpubly of her misfortune: 10 touch it with hnr linger, or i ernaps to una some reason, tome pretext to <io bt it. She dropped down on the stone steps and bid her face in both her hands, vainly striving to think. It tt-as past midnight The streets were deserted; a shower of rain was falling, and she was chilled to numbness. A policeman pas-ed by. He turned and stared nt the young woman, then took her roughly l?y thr arm. "What are yon doing here?" he asked, brutally. She looked up at him with wondering eyes. *1 do not know myself." she answered. The mau looked more closely nt her, discovered throng all her confusion a I nameless refinement and the subtle per* M ? * "Da * ?nlr nifv nn Vior I I U III U1 puiltj* JLLU IVVB ^??,7 v? Mv.f "But, mad.iin, you cannot stay here,"be rejoined, in a softer voice. "No?" Yon must have some great Borrow?" Tery great." "Wh is yoar name?" "Flora Cleveland," she said, simply. The man looked bewildered. "Will you tell me where yoa live?" hi asked. 8he gave the number with perfect simplicity and perfect indifference. bhe teemed to be thinking nothing of what he wag Baying. "Ah! juBt below here," said the offl(MT. Yes." she rejoined. 'Will you take my arm?" She did bo quietly, and they started slowly down the street. Eugene had just reached the house, and heard with stnpefit-d surprise, from the lips of the lady's maid, the details of hi6 wife's mysterious disappearance, when the hall rano Tiol^ntlv. He raahed oat and met his wif? nn stairs. She had somewhat recovered her calmness, and as be interrogated her with a searching glanoe, made a ghastly effort to smile. "I was slightly ill and went ont a little," she said. "I walked too far and am somewhat tired." ft otwithstanding the improbability of the explanation, he did not hesitate. He mnrmured a few soft words of reprorch and placed her in the hands of her moid, who removed her wet garments. During that time he called the officer, ftho remained in the vestibule, and close !y interrogated him. On learning where be had found Flora, Eu?ene knew at once and folly the whole .ruth. He went directly to his wife. She had retired and was trembling in every limb. One of her bands was resting ontside ;he coverlet. He rashed to take it. bnt she withdrew rt; gently, bat with sad and reBolnte digaity. The simple restore told him they were leparated forever. By a tacit arrangement proposed by her, iad'as tacitlv accepted by him, Flora became virtually a widow. He remained for some seconds immovable, his expression loat in the shadow of t curtain; then slowly left the chamber. The idea of lying to defend himjfelt never occurred to him. His line of conduct was already ar ranged?caimiy, memoaicaijy. uui iwo bine circles had already sunk around his Byes, and his face wore a waxen pallor. His hands, joined behind his back, were clenched together; and the ring he wore sparkled with their tremulous movement. After half an hour he stood in the door of her chamber. "Flo!" he said. She turned her eyes gleaming with (ever upon him. "Flo, I am ignorant of what yon know, md I sh 11 not ask you," he continued, as he stepped into the room and ap AU ?J U A?t V\A(1 I " T Vl a TTA f^AQfl VAH( pioauiiou UC* UCU, ? JL u??o WOOU ?'' sriminal toward you, bat perh&pa less so than you think. "Terrible circomstances bonnd me with ron bands. Fate ruled me! But I seek no palliation. Judge of me a* severely as rou wish; but I beg of you calm yourself -preserve yonrselfl You spoke to me this morning of your presentiments-of yonr maternal hopes. Attach yourself to those thoughts, and rou will always be mistress of your life. \s for myself, I ahull be whatever you ffill me?a stranger or a friend. But now [ feel that my piesence makes you ill. I will leave you for a time, but not alone. Would you wish Mrs. Morgan to come to rou?" "Yes," 6he murmured, faintly. "I shall go for her; hut it is not necessary to tell you there are confidences one muit reserve from one's dearest friends." "Except a mother?" She murmured the question with a supplicating agony, very painful to see. TTa of ill noln? 1 or on inaf anf * I IID JJiOff OUti VU?Wii WM "Except a mother!" he said. "Bei it bo!" She turned her face nnd buried it in th? pillow. "Your mother returns to-morrow, does she not?" She made an affirmative motion of her head. "Yon can make your arrangements with her. I shall accept everything." "Thank you," she replied, feebly. He left the room and went to find Mrs. Morgan, whom be awakened, and briefly told her his wife had been seized with a severe nervous attack, the effect of a chili. The amiable lady ran hastily to Flora and spent the night with her. But she was not the dupe of the explanation Eugene had given her. Women quickly understand each other in their: griei. Nevertheless she asked no confidences and received none; bat ber tenderness to the stricken one redoubled. During tbe silence of that dreadfal night the only service she could render her was to make her weep. Nor did those laggard hours pass less bitterly for Eugene Cleveland. He tried to take no rest, but walked up and down his apartments until daylight in a sort of frenzy. The distress of this poor child wonnded him to the heart. The memories of the past rose before him. and paused onward in sad procession. Then the morrow wonld show him the crushed daughter with her mother? her loving mother. Mortally stricken in all her best illusions, in all her deareBt hopes, in all connection with the buppinesB of life! He found he had yet in his heart lively feelings of pity; yet some remorse in his conscience." ' Strange to say, this weakness irritated him, ana he denounced it to himself. Who had bfltraved him? This QtieBtion agitated him to an eaoal degree, oat irom tne tlrst instant he had cot been deceived in this matter. The sn den grief and half-crazed conviction of his wife, her despairing attitude, and ber silence, could only be explained by strong assurance and certain revetaiiou. After having turned the matter over and over in his mind, he arrived at the conclusion that nothing could have thrown such clear light into his life save Clara's letters. He never wrote to Mrs. Elliaton, but jould not prevent her writing to him, for to her, as to all women, love without letters was incomplete. But the fanlt of Eugene, inexcusable in a man o his tact, was to have preserved these let'ere. No one, however, iB perfect, and ne was an >.rtist. ? He delighted in these chef d'oeuvres of p ssion.te eloquence, wm prond of inspiring them, and he conld not make up his mind to barn or destroy them. He examined at once the secret drawer where he had concealed them, and by certain signs discovered the lopk had been t <mpered with. Nevertheless, there was no letter missing; the arrangement of them nlone had been disturbed. His suspicions at once reverted to Slyme. whose scruples he suspected were ulif?K4 01%/) In f U a mafnmrt tt? n *n I UUV nii|^uvt SUM iu buo iuviuuig IUUJ n??o confirmed beyond lioabt by a letter from tlto seorettry to his employer. Ia tact, Blyme, after passing on bit pnrt a most wretched night, did not feel bis nerves equal in the morning to meeting the reception possibly in waiting for aim at the Lelandg'. His letter was skillfully penned, to put asleep suspicion i it had not been fully aroused, and if Flora had not betrayed him. [Jit announced hi* acceptance of a lucrative situation, suddenly offered him in a iommrrcittl house in Boston. He was )bliged to decide at once, and to Btart bat same morning, for fear of losing au jpporiunity which coul not recur Hgain. [t concla.'ed with the liveliest gratitude ind re ret. Eugene oould not very well reach hi> orother-jn- aw's secretary to strangle bim; so he resolved to do the next best thing. He not only sent him a friendly letter tbRnkin,'him for all bis kindneea ; > his wife, but a handsome present in viditton as a testimonial of his sympathy ind too wishes' This, however, was a simple precauion, for he pprehended nothing more from the venomous reptile, so far beaeath him, after ho had once shaken him )ff. Seeing him deprived of the only weap)n be could possibly use against him, he felt pafBesides, so far as he knew, Slvme ad ost the o ily interest be oonld 1 ire to subspive, for he knew this man b d do?e nim the compliment of eourtnj ii'K wtfe. 4it i h? Trail? stMttned him littln , V \ ...... '.ess low, after discoTenng this gentle* nanlr taste! < Ah! but the end was not yet. i 1 CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DAUGHTER AND HER MOTHER. It required on the part of Eugene Cle ve- 1 (and, this same morning, an exertion of 1 ill his courage to perform his duty as a 1 !;entleman in receiving Mr. and Mrs Le> < and upon their return home. But courage ' had been for some time past his sole regaining virtue; and this, at least, *he 1 songht never to lose. 1 tt * 3 iv * Viia lie receiveu tuouu xuudv ^atciuuj?? father and mother-in-law as they descended from their carriage ?dd entered die broad hall. "Mr T Alnr.ri woo *nnr?>i V>rnk*m in TiAalth. ' ice trip, which it naa been nopea would ' senffit, had only wearied him: and now, j in again entering his own door, he begged ; to be at once assisted to his sleeping 1 :oom. 1 Mrs. Leland lingered in snrprise at not seeing her daughter there to meet them, 1 ind cast an inquiring look upon Eugene. { He informed her that she had been a ' little indisposed since tbe preceding even- ' ng. Notwithstanding the precautions he s :ook in his language and by his smile, be . lould not prevent Mrs. Leland from feel- I Inga lively alarm. f He did not pretend, however, entirely to reassure her. Under his reserved and 1 measured-replies, she felt tbe presentment nf BomA After having ! 1 orerRed him "with, many questions, she roddenly turned and hurried up stairs. Flora, to spare her mother the first ihook, had quitted her bed and dressed herself; and the poor child had even put ?'little, rouge on her pale cheeks. ?nz'ene, who h*d hastened after his mother* in-law, himself opened' for her the door of her daughter s chamber, and then withdrew. All that passe d between them at first wa? ? silent interchange of mutual cai esses. Then the mother seated herself near her daughter, drew her head on hex oosom, and looked into the depths of hei lyes. "What is the matter?" she asked oadlv. "Oh, nothing?nothing hopeless! only fou must love your little Flo more than ever. Will you not?" "Yes; but why?" "I must not worry you; end I must not wrong myself, either. You know why!" "Yp.s: hnt I imnlore vou. my darline. to tell me." "Very well; I will tell you everything i But, mother, yon most be as brav# as I ] ?m." ' She boried her head lover still on her mother's breast, and commenced to recount to her, in a low voice, withoat looking up once, the terrible revelation which haaheen made to her, and which her husband's avowal had confirmed. Mrs. Leland did not once interrupt her daring this cruel recital. She only imprinted a kiss on her hair from time to time. ^ ] mora, who aia sot aura ig ?me nor | eves to her, as though ahe were ashamed of another's crime, might have imagined that she had exaggerated the gravity of her misfortune, since her mother had re* oeived the confidence with so much calmoess. But the calmness of Mrs. Leland at this terrible moment was that of the martyrs; for all that could have been suffered by the Christians under the claws of the tiger, or on the rack of the torturer. this mother was suffering at the hands of her best-beloved daughter. Her beautiful pale face?her large eyes upturned to heaven, like those they give to the pure victims kneeling in the Roman circus-appeared as though demanding of Qod if Hs really had any consolation for such torture. When Bhe had heard all, she summoned < ftn cmiTo at. Vi?r rlftnohtpr whn at Iftst looked up to her -with an expression of timid uncertainly, embracing hex more tightly still. "Well, my darling," said she, atlas^ "il is a great affliction, it tv true. Yon arc rixht, notwithstanding; there i> nothing to despair of." "Do yon really believe so?" "Certainly. There is some inconceivable mystery under all this; bnt be assured that the evil is not so terrible as it appears." My poor mother! but he has acknowledged it?" 1 "I am better pleased he has acknowledged it. That proves he has jet some pride, and some good yet left in bis soul. Then, too, he feels very muchafflicted; ha suffers as much us we do. Think of that. Let ns think of the future, my darling." They clasped eaoh other's hands, and smiled at one another to restrain the tears which filled the <yes of both. After ? few minutes: "I must go to your poor father now, my child," said Mm. Leland, "nnd tben I would like to repose for half an hour." "T will VOM to DftDa's TBOm. Oh, lean walk! I feel agreat cfealbetter." "I think yon Had better wait a little, my dear. "Vonr father is reposing aftei the fatigue* of the journey. I will come for yon by and by." "Very well, mamma." Mrs. Lelaud rose to leave the room. A the door she turned : "Be sensible," she said, with another smile, "And you also," rejoined Flora, whose voice failed her. Mrs. Lei ind hastened to her own private room, closed and locked the door, raised her clnsped hands toward HeHven; then, falling on l>er knees before the bed, she buried her head in it, and commenced to weep despairingly. | Flora, left alone in her room, dropped ' - - * -1 .1 T 1 J ? upon Qer itDetJB, tll?ucu uci iibuud, niiu supplicated the Great Throne for strength to Dear the terrible trial through which she was passing. 1 Tba npartment occupied by Eugene was continuous to this chamber. He had been walking with long strides up nnd down the room, exj ecting every moment to eao Mrs. Leland enter. As the time passed on he tat himself down and tried to read, but his thoughts : wondered. His ear eagerly receivadp , sgniust his will, the slightest sounds in the house. If a foot Feemed approaching him, be rose suddenly and triea to com- ' pose his countenance. When the door of i the neighboring chamber was opened his i agony was redoubled. j He caught the sound of a weary sigh, then, an iustnnt after, the dull fall of Mrs. Lei and npon the carpet, then her despairing sobs. * Eugene threw from him violently the ' book which be was forcing himself to read, placing his elbows on the bureau which was before him, held, for a Ion7 t me, bis pale forehead tightened in hiB contracted hand*. ^When the Round of tue sobs abated and ceased, little by little, he breathed freefc A little after midday he received this note: "My husband's health if hopelessly broken. He has sent in his resignation to the directors of tbe bank. He longs for the country. Warren has placed his house xt Roxbury at our disposal, and we depart almost immediately. If you will permit me to take mv daughter with me for a few dayB, I shall be grateful to you. Aonkb L .land." He returned this simple reply: 8 "You can ><o nothing of which I do not t approve to-day and alwa>?. I , "Eugene Cleveland." ^ j Mrs. Leland. in fact, having consulted the inclination and the stre igtb of her J daughter, hjid determined to remove her t witho t delay, if pos ible, from thu mi- 6 press ons of the spot where sne had . suffered bo severely from the presen e of her busba-id, aod from the uxifortu- I ~ ? ? 1? ? iknin vnntna) o.tn j 4 u>iio eiuuuniMbuicuiux lucu I tion. She desired also to meditate in solitude, in order to decide whut coarse to take un.ler unexpected iroumstances. , Finally, she had not the courage to see Eugene again?it she coal I ever set him again- until some time had el psed. It wa- uot without tuixietj that she n waited J his reply to the request she had addressed ? bint. In the midet of the troubled confusion >f her ideas, she believed him capable of tlmost anything; and she feared every:hinp from him. Eugene's note reassured her. ?l? - ?A in 4* in har /lanohtAT OU3 UttDiCUCU IV ?vuu * ?v mv? ind both of them, like two lost creatures irho cline to the smallest twig, remarked vith pleasure the kind of respectful abandonment with which be hnd reposed :heir destines in their own hnnd. He spent the remainder of tSe day in lis counting-room, and when he returned hey had departed. CHAPTER XXIX. THE REPTILE TUBNS TO fiTIXfl. When Flora Cleveland returned to New fork and her home she there experienced j he painful impressions of the past, and J ;he somber preoccupation of the future; i fViAm iritVi )iat nlthnnoh I Mid DUC l/41/UgU* V?JV>V wwmwrnrn W ?0 n a fragile form, a most powerful con-( lolation?her first-born child. Assailed by griet, and even menaced by lew emotions, she was obliged to relounced the nursing of her li tie one; >ut nevertheless she never left him. for me was jealous even of bis nurse. She it least wished to be loved bv him. She loved him with ?n infinite passion. She loved him because he was her own >oa and of her blood. He was the price of her misfortune?of aer pain. Sbe loved him because he was her only J aope of human happiness hereafter. She loved him because he was as beau- i liful as the day. And it was true be was io; for he resembled nis latner?ana sue loved him also on thai account."' ' ' She tried to concentrate her heart and ill her thoughts on this dear creature, nn d it first she thought she had euoceeded. ! She was surprised at herself, afrherown Tiinquillity, when she saw Cora Elliaton; for her lively imagination had exhausted, ix advance, all the sadness which her new sxistence conld contain. Bnt when shechad lost the kind of torpor into which excessive suffering had plunged her?when her maternal sensaiions were a little quieted by custom? Her woman's heart recovered itself in the mother's She conld not prevent herself from renewing her passionate interest in her graceful tnough terrible husband. Mrs. Lelana did not retnrn to the city irith her daughter, but remained in Boxburv. with her husband. Flora wrote her quite or ten, However, and told. her everything that was taking place. For this wise young woman, ma:nred by misfortnne, observed everything, saw everything, and exaggerated nothing. She touched, in her letters, on the most delicate points in the household, md even on her husband's secret thoughts, with accurate justice. Eugene, as yet, was not at all converted, nor near being so; but it woald be bely' * ? n v?fa ! LUg uumnu XiOtUio iu omiuubv ?w mid . tieart, or of any other human being, i supernatural impassibility. If the dark ana implacable theories irhioh Eugene Cleveland had lately made the law of his existence could triumph I absolutely, this would be true. The tri Is he had passed through did j lot reform him. they only staggered him. He did not pursue his path with the lame firmness; he strayed fro his programme. ' He pitied one of his victims, and, ae ane wrong always entails another, after pitying his wife, he came near loving his jh;k These two weaknesses bad glided into lis petrified soul, ns into a marble fount, ind there took root?two imperceptible roQts, however. The child scarcely occupied him moro ;han a few moments every d ly. He thought of him, however, and vould ret- rn home a little earlier than lsual each day than whs hi* habit, neireetly attracted by the smi'e of that ;resn inc. The mother was fc* him something more, ler sufferings, her yonthfnl heroism, had oucbed him. She bicame in his eyes lomebody. He discovered many merits in her. He >ereeived she was remakably well inormed for a woman. She understood lalf a word, knew a great deal, and [nessed at the remainder. She had, in fine, that blending grace ind solidity which gives to the conversaion of a woman of cultured mind an in:omparable charm. She was a lovable creature, and it can ie understood that she might have many attractions, even for her husband. Yet, though he had not for one instant he idea of sacrificing to her the passion !??> life it ii ciirtam. however. hat his wife pleased him as a charming fiend, which she trnly was. fTO SZ CONTINUED.] How Hairpins Are Made. Eairpins are made by automatic and rery complicated machines. The coiled vire is put upon drum3, and becomes itraightened as it feeds itself to the mashine. It passes along until it reaches ;wo cutterj which point the cuds at the tame time that they cut it to the length equired. This piece of wire then slips ilong an iron plate until it reaches a slot, through which it is pressed into the reguar shape. The hairpins are then put ntoapan and japanned, after which j they are heated in an oven with a tem perature of from 3UU to 4UU degrees. There are but four American factories. The largest are in Birmingham and Waterbury, Conn., the others in Philadelphia and Brooklyn. Five hundred thousand dollars' worth of hairpins are annually imported from England, France and Germany.?New York World. The OrlglnaF "Turn Coat." Duke Emmanuel, of Savoy, who reigned from 1553 to 1580, found himjelf sorely tried in endeavoring to preserve his dominions from the aggres* Hons ot toe rrencn on tne one nana and of the Spanish on the other, and in bhe effort to prevent the absorption of tiis territory by one or the other, was compelled in turn to aide with bo ;h. His changes being irequcnt, he humorously ordered a military coat mcide which on one side was blue, the color of the Spanish uniform, and on the other side white, the mark of the French, rhe coat was so made that either u aiform could be worn on the outside, and :hus he could accommodate himself to' jircumstances. By a liberal display of ilever diplomacy?the frequent turning >f his coat?he saved his dominions and lave to the world a new word.?Detroit Free Press. What are these startling rumors :oncerning the decline and fall of McAllister? Are they meant to (lis furb the autumnal tranquillity or xne irbiter of fashion, and especially of orm, as he 6its playing on pastoral jipcs in the shades of his Newport arm? Are they the gaspings of ealousy or the mouthings of ambi/ion? Does green-eyed Envy walk beilde the illustrious farmer, as, in his )road straw hat, decorated with gay ibbons, he prods the unruly ox with ,he goad, or chases the rugulsh cow * - ? *? s AU- . vnen sne oreaxs irom me pun.- jl/ucb routh promise more activity in the sonduct of social functions? Does it igree to show less dictatorial spirit ,han the great man has shown? Seize the stylus; O pastoral McAllister, and respond! COM!MRUS FIRST. THREE DISCOVERERS AND HOW THEY GOf TO THIS COUNTRY. A Very Interesting Article by Professor Mason, ot the Smithsonian Institute. Abont the Discovery ol the New Continent. OR n. Tsar to nome hyou will hear the A praise of Columbus. J Nevertheless, it 19 certain that the first bold navigator who **^^1 set foot on the American continent was not named Cbristoforo Colombo. We well know when and where the Italian first landed from the Santa Maria on the western world. It was on the morning of Friday, the 12th of October, 1492, that clad in complete armor and carrying in his hand the royal banner of Spain, Colum bus descended upon the level shores or the small island that had iirst greeted him and which he bad found to be very fruitful, fresh and verdant and like a garden full of trees. On touching the land Columbus and all the Spantards were present fell upon their knees and with tears of that deepest" kind men do not know the cause of, poured forth their immense thanksgiving to Almighty Qod. The great business of the day then commenced, and Columbus, with the due legal formalities, took possession, on behalf of the Spanish monarch, of the island of Guaoibam, which no forthwith named San Salvador. Bat this man was "Columbus the Third" at least, and the Santa Maria was a tolerably well developed ship much like that shown in the accompanying illuitration. Who was "Columbus the Second!" A Northman, whose ancestors settled in Denmark, conquered Norway and Sweden, then ventured forth to colonize Iceland and Greenland. As early as the vear 875 of our era [ncrolf sailed to Ice land and presently founded the city of Rqjkiavik. Ten years after Eric the Red sailed westward and found Greenland. whose existence had been i previously reported. Humbolt says: "While,the caliphate was still flourishing at Bagdad, and Persia waa still under the Samannidea, whose age was so favorable to poetry, America was discovered by Leif, son of Eric the Red, by | _ ** ? ??T- - BEEESG SEA ESKIMOS < the northern route, and as far aa forty* * V? i wf TT minnfao TiAi>tK loft. UUC U^ICCO VUii b T AUlUUkW UVAkU AM MAtude." (Cosmos. ii., 603.) We are not perfectly sure of the kind of vessels in which this bold work was done, but arctfaeologists hare dug up in a dozen places around the North Sea remains of ancient boats older than the discovery of Iceland. When you see at the World's Fair next year a "viking ship1' brought over by the people of Norway and modeled after what is known to learned men as the "Godstad 7iking boat," you will know how the sailing vessel of "Columbus the Second" probably looked. The Godstad boat, as pictured here, is now set up in the archaeological museum, in Christiana, Norway. It was dug up in 1880, by Nicolaysen, at Godstad. She was entombed in a cir cular barrow, or burying place, resting on ber keel and decorated with shields bung close together aloug tbe rails after the Norse fashion down to quite recent *mes. Abaft her mast they bad built a mortuary chamber of logs with gables of planks set on end. In this "Davy Jones's locker" were found the remains of the dead. It was the custom then for a mariner to be buried in his boat. This curious grave bad been looted before Mr. Nicolajaen's arrival, so be failed to discover tbe implements of tbe ancient I CRAFT OF COLUMBOS'fl TIME. viking. The boat is of oak, clinker built and nearly eighty feet long. Her stakes were fastened with iron naiU and the 8eam9 caulkcd with oakum made of cow's hairspuu into three-stranded cord. She was propelled both by oars and canvas. like the viking boat of the tenth century, shown here. The oara- were about twenty feet long, plied through holec in the aide of the boat, thirty-two of which can be made out. She had no dcck and her rudder was hung by a rope forward of the stern post. The expoI sition boat, constructed to show exactly | how she was built and how she was I ?M.J ?11 I S&lieu will uu iUbVtccviu^. | Bui. these white navigators found people living ou tho continent. There! fore there must have been another CoI lumbca, if not any more. If y?u take a map of Alasia jcu find that Behring Stra't has a pretty little group of island*., the Diomedes, juat hall way across?it could not be a hard forenoon's work to I row from the mainland, to these islands, or even to skate there and back in cold weather. Savages do cross there now continually in the most primitive craft. I have been so fortunate as to obtain a picture of these primitive boats from THE GODSTAD VIKING BOAT. tbe Den of the distinguished artist. Mr. Henry Elliott, from which a drawing is here given. Tne natives are crossing the Bering Strait, pushing off from Diomodes for Cape Prince of Wales, on the American side. ' The National Museum possesses a lumber of these Eskimo umiaks. I can tell you how they are made. In that cold land no good boat timber grows, but the currents in the3 Pacific Ocean bring driftwood, and the natives harvest it with the greatest care. They use no nails. If they had nails they could not use them in driftwood. Besides, in such a cojd country, the frost would bite them in two like icicles. But they have something much better in the line of fastenings. The Eskimo ship car penter makes up his frame of driftwood by tying the bits of -wood together with tbongs of walrus rawhide and draws over it'a covering of sealskin prepared in the best manner to make the material tough and keep out the water. This umiak we may consider as the first "Santa Maria." It floats like an eggshell, ana nas great sustaining power, holding a family and all their effects as they move from place to place. This sort of navigation must have been going on hereabouts for a very long time. Mr. Dall opened shell heaps of great antiquity lower down the coast. Mr. Murdock found relics of the Eskimo many feet below tbe surface in digging through a gravel bank at Point Barrow. It does not matter whether or not all the aborigines of this continent are the descendants of those who first came over tbe Arctic waters. That is not the point now. The certain thing ia that long before Lief Ericson there were navigators visiting this continent, and no doubt in just such a sealskin "Santa Maria" as I nave described. Christopher Columbus and his men dressed somewhat as we do, only they wore plate armor. They had rude fire ; ' . ^ i i f \ 1 :R098rN0 THE 8TRATT8. arms and cannon, and made havoc among the naked aborigines with their insignificant shield and bows and arrows. Lieutenant Ericson's men had no firearms. They wore armor, however, and carried the cross bow. Perhaps they taught the inhabitants they found here " i A VIKING SHIP OP THE TENTH CH5TURY. to u*e this weapon; at any rate, it is in common use Among the natives or Labrador. But "Columbus the First" was clad in all the rude simplicity of Robinson Crusoe. The reindeer or the fox furnished him with hat, coat and trousers, and the seal was the purveyor of bis boots. His wife was a woman of taste and decorated his coat with dainty bits of colored fur. He himself was an artist of no mean ability and knew how to carve ivory to perfection. More than all, he was a skilled sailor, and braved the sea in a hnAf. whprii no white man has ever ven. | tured with safety. All bail, thou Columbus primeval!? J Atlanta Constitution* I I ! A Sandwritlng Table. The accompanying picture shows the singularly primitive way in which writing was taught in some places so recently as sixty years ago. The sand writing table consists of a plain board with a ledge.around it and resting upon legs. Ordinary sand was placed upon the board, and with the forefinger the pupil ' aa AWa Ia^am tinAn f Kfl was laugui* tiav^c tuc ickitio u^uu huu sand. When the table was full the characters could be easily obliterated with small, square boards, used for smoothing it over. Tne old man, Robfrt Reevre by name, is now about eighty years of age, and more than sixty years ago he learned to write upon this very tabb during the time he attended the Simday-school in the Dennington Church at Ipswich. This sandwritim* table is said to be the only one still ex istiDg m ijjQgiaaa. The Stanford University of California has begun its second year with 600 students. The freshmen class numbers 270, of them more than oue-third are from the East. Neariy one-third of the applicants for admission were rejected. i .. . \L Vv.'. ), ' ! ' " " .' v-J ' ' * ' "y--' **? ^ A flood Indian. - * W&shefcia, or Kills-on-the-Run, whose portrait is here presented to the readen of the Free Press, is obe of the sood Indians who need not die in-order to be appreciated. He is the umei or me Shoehones, and lives at the Shoshone Indian Agency in Wyoming. He won his name by his prowess as a mark man, Us aim being unerring. A few yean ago most of the surrounding tribes were hostile to the Shoshones, the allies of the whites. The country was subject to constant raids and attacks from armed bands of marauder?. Washe kia performed many deeds of valor in defense of bis'"' people. He was never seriously wounded; a scar which shows on his chest is from an arrow wound received from fighting,the Crows. He has on severd" occasions rendered valuable aid 'with his warriors to the United States troops in repelling unfriendly Indians. In the portrait the head-dress is a war, bonnet made of eagles' feathers. A. similar one?it may be the identical one . ?.was sold in New York for the benefit of the mission for $80. In hiv left hand ? he carries the ordinary pipe used by Indiana. vhich the* manufacture them selves out of a soft' red siodstone, not much harder than clay when cat out of the quany, but which becomes quite hard when exposed to the atmosphere. Washebia does not know hit age, but thinks he is about eighty. His hair is gray, but he is still erect and walks with a firm step. ' He has endowed the school at the Shoshone Indian Agency with 160' t -ft M&i WASHEKTA, acres of land for the benefit of the Bishop Talbot School, where the youth , ;j of his tribe are taoght farming and industrial art?.?Detroit Free Preu. r , . , , . . : The Japanese Persimmon. / The kaki, or Japanese persimmon, of -which there are many varieties, baa proved of value for tbe cotton growing belt of tbe Bournera oiaies. in tut Southern States, however, the kaki thrives better on seedlings of the wild persimmon than upon the Japanese roots. While as yet comparatively little is known in the markets, the kaki is , considered of sufficient importance by ' j the National Department of Agriculture to justily assistance and encouragement for its permanent establishment in this country. The range of cultivation in the GuU State* is i^ovr defined for the varieties positively identified, extending from Key West, Fla., to Augusta, Ga., aad into the Carolrnas near the coast. As , far south as Manatee, Fla., it succeeds admirably on native stock, and is cultivated as a special fruit all through central Florida; but in the northern belt of j Al? nn'tk fhn MTtrpmA CQUUUQO^ uvgiuaiu^ n?M* vmv ?...w? . limit , of orange culture, it is most at home, althpugh trees hare been injured by frost where an early season has induced too free growth. The fruit of most varieties described is of a bright orange red or light Vermillion color, in shape and general appearance resembling a smooth tomato, and begins to color when half grown. If gathered before a frost there is a slight ^stringency next the skin, but it disappears after bring kept in the boose a few days or weeks. If allowed to be sligutly touched by the frost the flavor is much improved, but the fruit will not then keep many days.! Some varieties will remain sound until! January or Febmary. 7 be nesn is sou,, rich and sweet, with a slight apncot flavor. There are many varieties of the; ! persimmon raised in Japan; some are eaten in a fresh state; others are used for drying. Samples of dried persimmons have been sent from Japan, and they are equal to the be*# Smyrna figs, but with a peculiar and pleasant aroma. JAPANESE PER3IM1T0N. Tbo yaraa-tsuru, here illustrated, differs in shape from some of the other varieties of the kaki in being decidedly pointed. In size it varies from i by 2 to 2 by 3 inches in diameter. The name ' *- ?*" " ? ? ? ?? * 1 aimna von>k means muuuiaiu ui ?uu uau^?j meaning mountain, or, literally inter* preted, wild, and tsuru the stork or crane. A Japanese poraologist says it is perhaps the wild progenitor of the large and more improved variety called tsuru. During one month recently Japan exported 814,590 gross of matches. Transformation oftlia Lunch t'onutir x icua* W w r ?Life.