Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

A WEIRDMYSTERY I Tracing a Dark Crime. BY ALEXANDER ROBINSON, M. D. CHAPTER X. Availing myself of the first oppor* A?-:x- T ?U r\f mtt nonlrof ittnuy, jl wun, jlo uuu kjx uij The inclosure was speedily in my hands. I was surpiised at what I found. Theodore Parker: 1 positively and for the last time refuse to grant you the interview you so impudently demand. The past has not been blotted from my mind. I am Inexorable? the same yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow. Never daro address me again in any shape. I look upon you as one dead. Abraham Seaburt. That was all. The two policemen had seen fit to weave a romance about this young man, believing that he was in love with Leonore and disliked by the old Doctor. In all but one particular the letter bore out this view of the case. This exception was in the l?8t sentenco: "I look upon you a6 one dead." This, coupled with the picture turned with its face to the wail, gave me aD Idea which, however, I could not as yet fully seize upon. An, a mougDi cazne w ma: Why not see Leonore again? She might be able to tell me who Theodora vu, and even where he was to be found. Of course I would not breathe a whisper of the reason I desired to learn this lest she take the alarm and close hei month to all utterances with respect to him. Again I made for the manse sot in the old park. It was well on to 10 o'clock when J reached the place. The policemen still stood at the gato, and by this time quite a crowd had col* lected around the outside. Crime of all kinds has a fascination foi the morbidly curious, and always wivistVt fVten o fTACTU?l UldWO UiUVU WCVTOi WiiWH W pvw|/w? 4MVV* log. . I knew this as a fact, much as I deprecated It. The officer at the gate regarded my magic mention of Mr. Ketcham's name Just as his comrade had done, and Allowed me to pass by without trouble. An old woman answered the summons. Her eyes were red with weeping, and I knew this wa6 Ursula. I mentioned that I had been in the house before that morning with the gentleman who had told her the sad news, and that I wished to see Miss Leonore. "Please give her my card. I will wait In the library," I said. -Miss Leonore Is in there herself." "Ah! then never mind the card. I will ntered unannounced." I stood for a moment before the partly opened door of the library. Looking through I saw a sight that wonld not soon leave my mind. Leonore sat beside the table, upon which both her elbows rested. Her hands clasped her throbbing temples. Upon that beautiful face was an expression of misery such as I never hope to look upon again. It was the stony stare of one who looks upon a cold world for the first time, or peering back sees a terrible something that must haunt her forever more. Such an expression on a face, young or old, was Indeed terrible. I knocked upon the door. Leonore stood up and turnod her eyes ?pon me. "May I come in?" ?ne caugni. ner oreaxn. "Ah! it is you, Dr. Burton? Enter." From hqr manner it seemed as though she were relieved to see me. I did not know whether to take it as a compliment or not to have my company preferred to ghosts. Without waiting for a further invitation, however, I went in. Again I was in the presence of the young girl against whom circumstances v had arisen to accuse her of a hideous crime. Again I felt within myself that she T?s innocent beyond all doubt, and I resolved to prove her so to the satisfaction of the old detective who seemed deter mined upon running aown nis quarry regardless of sex or condition. To him justice was above all. He could even fail to be haman when e&gaged upon a duty. I had come here with a distinct purpose In view. This was to fipd out, or at least endeavor to do so, who Theodore was, and what connection he bore to both Leonore and the dead poison Doctor. I meant to approach the subject gentlv. striving to read what her face mieht betray while I spoke. So I began speaking of the novel situation in which she now found herself, and inquired of whom she should seek protection, now that her guardian was dead. She shook her head sadly. "Alas! I hardly know what to do, Doctor. I might get a companion and live on here. It all depends upon guardy's will." i Ah! I had never thought of the will. It must be in the hands of some lawyer, and very possibly would explain things to a considerable extent I made up my mind to appeal to Mr. Xetcham about it at the first opportunity. He would know what to do. T- *1- At T 1: J * IV . IB me mea.ii nine, jl uiai true opportunity for which I had waited was dow at hand. Assuming a careless manner, I said in calm tones: "Can you not look to Theodore now?" I had not imagined one-half the result that followed my words. She turned upon me like a flash. Into J?or exes there leaned a Quick gleam that was instantly followed" By a wondering look. I could seo her bands open and shut In her great emotion. Of one thing I had already been assured?she knew who Theodore was. Though her lips might refuse to speak of him, her face had betrayed this secret. "Oh, no, no! A thousan I times no! Dc not mention him, please. 1 cannot beai to hear his name!" "Is it, then, so hateful to you?" "The connection it bears with the past Is far from pleasant to me. Besides, he, my guardian, would be displeased. It may seem strange to you, but even though ho is dead, 1 seem to feel his spirit near mo, to guard and protect. It is a pleasant thought, Doctor, though you may laugh at It as the silly conceit of a poor girl." I was determined not to get. off the wacK waico nau ueen siarwju. -Did you know, Miss Leonore, that Theodore has been hovering around this house for the last week or two?" She hid her eyes with her hand. M'es; I_kuew it," faintly. "What did fie seekT* "An interview." "With whoro?" "With me." Ah! now w?. were getting closer to the rock-boUom tacts. Why should he seek an interview with her unless he hod a right to, either as a lover or something nearer?her husband. This latter was a thought that had not come to me before. It gave me something of a shock. w " * * J " ? ? ? ^ ??? T V? A /inapfinn uesuaung no juu^er, ? puu iuo yut^uvu. "Miss Leonore, who is Theodore?" She raised her ereat black .eyes to mine in a half-dazea way, and I iancied I could see something of pain there. "Don't you know? I cannot tell you? I dare not tell you, Doctor. It would be displeasing to him." I came very near uttering something disrespectful to tho dead physician, but caught myself in time. "Leonore, in solving a mystery it is essential that I should know this thing. Believe me, for your own sake tell mo what relation this man Theodore bears toward you and Dr. Seabury." "I cannot tell you," she said, sadly. "For the same reason you spoke pi before?" "Yes. I know his wishes in this matter. Some day you will know all. It is not for me to reveal it. Doctor, you have been kind to me. Forgive me, but my lips are sealed by a promise?a vow." That ended it, but I was just as fully determined to discover the truth as when I had started upon this tack. There were more ways than one of accomplishing a thing. Her words had made me believe more firmly than ever that Theodore must be her husband. Perhaps he had done something in the past and had been kicked out by her angry guardian. This would account for many things; yes, even the writing on the back of the photograph, for if Seabury had grown /I foo> fnr hi a lifo n.t. t.hft hands of thi9 mas he could well ascribe it all to Leon ore. I was beginning to build up quite a pretty theory that would soon rival that of the old detective. Then we should see whose castle fell first. Having reason to know how set a woman could be in her way, I did not attempt to change Leonore's mind. She believed she was right. I could find other ways of learning the truth. So I talked with her on different subjects for a short time, until I made her forget her late fears. All the time I was reading her. It waj a pleasure to me to watch the light come and go in her eyes, and note the blush upon her cheeks. I was not so practical as Mr, Ketcham, who let nothing influence him. After spending quite a pleasant hall hour, I arose to withdraw. Id passing through the hall, I felt sure that I saw the form of Mr. Ketcham at the head of the stairs, but I did not pay any attention to the fact. Possibly be had come back to the house for more evidence. While he waa winding the spool, I was just as industriously slipping it loose, and between u? It seemed simply a question of time 01 endurance when something must happen. When I left Leonore, my mind was made up. My next endeavor would be to find Theodore himself. From him perhaps I might learn the truth. There seemed to be no clue to hia place of resident, as he had received hid letter through the general delivery at the postoffice. I took it out again to look at it. Then my eye was attracted by something that seemed to have escaped it on my previous examination. CHAPTER XL There was something written in pencil ? ? ? ~ At-* *v# AnvolnnA KCrUbS biiO Uttv;a vx vud The rain which had beaten down upon the paper had almost obliterated the writing, but it was still faintly visible. I turned my eyes upon it and proceeded to decipher the almost faded characters. The task was difficult, but presently I saw that the writing was an address, and the name of the street was Dudley. When 1 had become satisfied with this, I turned all my powers upon the number. At first I made it out to be 95. Then I saw there had been another figure in front, whether two or three I could not say. It was plain, however, that I had come exceedingly close to the truth. Delighted with my success tnus iar, jl now set out to find the street. It was not one of much importance, but I soon came upon it, and in a short time passed in front of No. 295. Although not appearing to do so, I surveyed the building. It was a modest-looking house, and I could see nothing in its external appearance to indicate that there was any con nection between us inmates anu meu ui a burglarious stamp. Indeed, so quiet did it seem that I even experienced^, feelinsr of disappointment concerning the probable outcUETe of my quest. I remembered, however, that very often the most daring of thieves were the most cunning. They did not associate with men of their class, but were select Perhaps this man Theodore, having once been a gentleman, persisted in carrying his old surroundings into his new business. He must live after a certain style, and have at least the comforts of civilization around him, even if his trade was now that of a common housebreaker. Somehow this thought gave me confidence once more. I began to feel that looks were not everything in this world, and when I had gone some little distance down the street I turned to look back. Ah! A man was coming out of the very house which I had been watching. He came toward me at quite a rapid pace. ao my intense surprise aim ueuguv i saw the object of my search before me. There could be no mistake?I was looking upon Theodore Parker?the man who had climbed the vines leading up to the window, and who was in the chamber.of Dr. Seabury on the night of the murder. Knowing that I now had need of all the coolness I could command, I resolved to act my part with discretion. As I walked on the man rapidly overtook me. 1 waited until tie bad come np alongside; then I turned. "How do you do, Theodore?" I said. He came to a sudden halt, and seemed very much astonished, yet I could see that my shot had gone home. "You have the advantage of me, sir," he replied, coldly, ignoring my hand. "You admit that you are Theodore Parker?" "Why should I deny it?" "Then I wish to have a private conversation with you." "I do not know why I should grant it, sir. You are a stranger to me." . "That is true. Allow me to introduce myself," and I handed him my card. "Dr. Burton," he read. "At your service." "Well, sir. will you be so pood as_to Inform me why I should grant you an Interview? I am no wiser than before." "I come from Leonore." The shot told. I could see the color go and come. His white teeth became tightly clenched, as though he were de* ?? mn v /-? onv nmntinrt ICILUiUCU liUt hU ^IYC Ttaj i?v ?IJ/ VU1VV?VM| yet the mention of that name had knocked his reserve away, and left the past open to assault. I knew that my name had been my passport into his favor. He looked at me again, for I had assumed new im- | portanco in bis eyes. "You have seen lieonore?" toe asked, I huskily. "Yes." "And she sent yon to me?" j I could hardly say that, and yet he must be led to believe something this way. "You see I am here." "For what?" "As I said before, I seeK to nave an i interview with yon. Will you go with I me to some quiet restaurant where we f can talk without being overheard?" "Why not go back to my room?" "That would do, only I do not know who else you have in the house." His |ip curled as though he believed I was actually . afraid _ .when ipj Inquiry was directed merely through fdesfFC for secrecy. "There is only an old widow lady in the house. I have a room there. She is deaf as an adder and can hear nothing." "We could not find a better place. 3 will go back with you, Mr. Parker." As I turned and walked away with him my heart beat high. At last I could see a fair prospect of reaching the end I had in view. Theodore Parker would be obliged to confess what he knew of the murder, for I mqant to pic him down with questions that he could not evade. He opened the door with a night-key and led the way along a hall; at the end was a door which he opened. I now found myself in a cozy room, comfortably furnished. Theodore motioned toward a chair. "Make yourself comfortable, sir." Wh?n I sat down, I managed it so that the light from the window should be upon the face of my vis-a-vis, while my own was in shadow. His hand was trembling, and I could see that he awaited my speaking with a great deal of subdued excitement. A great question was before me. 1 looked at his left hand, and saw that the upper half of his forefinger was gone. This was positive proof in one way. To all appearances the crime now lay between Leonore and Theodore. Which could I believe the guilty party? Already in my mind I had acquitted the girl; hence, this man must be the one whose frenzied hate had buried the blade in the heart of the old Doctor. To beard a murderer in his den is no play. It must not be supposed that I had come here unprepared for an emergency. Safely hidden In my pocket was a reliable revolver. I knew how to use it, too, and more than once in my researches in the Holy Land and in the old countries of Europe I bad found it a faithful and efficient friend. . i I could reach it with one quick move* ment should the occasion demand sucb action on my part Theodore waitad for me to speak. Of course 1 did pnot mean to jump at the question in the start. I believed in leading a refractory horse gently. "Mr. Parker, of course you have heard the news?" "News, sir! what news?" Dr. Seabury is dead!" "What!" The word burst from him like a pistol shot ! His face became white as chalk, and J thought the man was about to faint; but be recovered bimseii witn an enort, ano even controlled his voice. "Will you repeat that, sir?" "Dr. Seabury Is dead." "When did this terrible event happen?" "Early this morning, at ten minutei after iL" "You are precise. Ah! I recollect? you are a physician?you w^e called in. Did she?Leonore send you for me?" This was spoken naturally enough, bul it did not beceive me. I knew that tht man who could commit such a fearfu! crime could act his part in covering 11 up. At the same time, I meant to keep hint on the rack, giving him no rest until th< final rhn.rt?fi was sent home. "Leonore did not send me, though ii was partly for her sake I came h9re. Dr. Seabury did not die under my charge. When he breathed his last, so far as wi know, he was alone." I was surprised to hear the young mas groan aloud. Surely he was acting his part to perfection. "Tell me about It, Doctor." "You appear deeply interested." His eyes flamed up. "I have a right to be." "That Is so," I said, meaningly; bu' | he did not appear to see me undertone. "If no one was with him when he passed away, how can you affirm that he died at ten minutes past two, Doctor?" "I shall have to tell you something oi the story, Sir.- As I said before, I am a doctor, and, like the deceased, made a specialty of the science af toxk-alogy. "About half-past two this morning ] was aroused from a nap which I had been enjoying upon my sofa by a knock at the door. "Opening it, I found there Abnei Ketcham, one of the best of New Yo/i detectives. "He said he required my services, aua as we were friends I entered a carriage and rode with him to Dr. Seabury's house. "There I found the old Doctor lying dead, and at the request of my friend ] examined a small phial which the dead man held in his hand. "It contained a terrible poison, found In a tomb in the Egyptian pyramids." "He committed suicide, then?" There was an air of relief in the voice of the other, as ho put this question, which I could not fail to c*tcb. It was as tbougn he suddenly saw an avenue of escape loominK up. "So I thought when I Baw that phial? and discovered that a part of the contents had passed his lips, for it was deadly poison, and would bring a collapse within ten minutes after being taken." "How came your friend the detective on hand, Doctor?" "That concerns another part of it. The old Doctor feared sudden death from some source, and his room was connected with the office of the detective by telegraph "My friend heard the alarm bell, and was in the house before a quarter of an hour had elapsed, yet he found the old gentleman stone dead." "Terrible, terrible, to think he died alone. I feel now that all was not done that might have been on my part. Doctor, do you think he suirered?" "I fear he did, but more from mental than bodily anguish. I am not yet done, young sir. My friend Mr. Ketcham asked me to examine his breast, to see if there were marks of the poison having caused the blood to gather about the heaxt"TTTdge of ray amazement when I dis covered a small puncture directly over bis heart and a drop of blood upon bis clothes." Parker uttered a low, gurgling cry. He was surveying me with a lixed etare, and there wa9 something set and stony in it that made me think of the dead. Was he trying to read my mind?to learn what I suspected? I went on: "My friend now told me why he had brought me to see a dead man; it was not to save but to avenge. "He wished me to learn, positively and without the faintest shadow of doubt, whether the terrible stroke at the heart had been the cause of death or the poison." "And what did you decide?" hu6kily ttifl vougy man. ... 1 witB"tH?Com7Trg~TIiore cool and collected as I proceeded, while he showed all the symptoms of intense excitement Nor could I blame him. If he was trailtv of this terrible crime, then it must seem to him as though the day of Judgment had surely arrived. "My examination convinced me of certain things which could be readily proved should the occasion ever arise. "I knew that the Doctor had taken the poison before receiving the stab-wound, but that it had been given Immediately after, and that the last spark of life had left his body before the poison had had half a chance to work, so that Dr. Seabury did not die by his own haud, but was murdered." I said this in a cold, ringing voice. It was my intention to send the charge home to his guilty soul like a cannon shot. He betrayed all the symptoms of one who was in mortal fear. His hands worked convulsively, and his ^ies sought .mine again with much Su^lC CApiCOSiUil ill mcin J. Btt*T seen in a dog as he cowers before the master from whom he expects a whipping. I believed I had cornered my game right here, and that presently I would extort a confession that must not only raise my prowess in the mind of the great detective, Mr. Ketcham, but at the same time save Leonore. It only needed a little more skillful manipulation and the thing was done. "This is a terrible thing, Doctor," at last fell from his lips. "Yea, Indeed, Mr. barker, it was bra enough to believe the old man had take, his own life, but Is much worse when wt find that some cowardly assassin crept u; behind him and slew him." He hid his face in his hands, as his emotion became too powerful. In my eyes this was a strong sign of guilt I was about r?ady to send the final bolt home. Leaning forward so that I could watch him closely, while at the same time my hand slipped around to where my revolver was hidden. I said: "Theodore Parker, what business ?ought jou tQ-that room on_the.night of the" ffiuTufci^?fhST. 'c&USB'CT "yCTI TC cilflaD the vines to the window above? Speak!" "Great heavens! Do you believe it was I who did this terrible deed?" ho suddenly asked, showing his face. "I have reason to think so:" "But you do not seem to know'my connection there." "I can guess it?you are Leonore's lover." He groaned dismally. "Worse 8till. I am Abraham Seabury's Ron." It was my turu to be amazod. pro B? CONTINUED. I Genius and Snicide. Huydon, the celebrated historical painter and writer, overcome by debt, disappointment, and ingratitude, laid down the brush with which he was at work upon his last great effort, Alfred and the Trial by Jury, wrote with a steady hand "Stretch me no longer upon this rough world," and then with a pis* tol shot put an end to his unhappy existence. Richard Payne Kaight, the poet, Greek scholar, and antiquary, was a victim of melnncholia, and finally destroyed himself with poison. Burton, the vivacious author of "The Anatomy of Melancholy," who had the reputation of being able to raise laughter in any company, however "mute and mopish," was in reality constitutionally depressed,* and it is believed that be was at last so overcome by his malady that be ended his life ia a fit of melancholy. Eleist, poet aod dramatist, brooded over suicide, attempted it once unsuccessfully, and finally, by agreement with Henriette Yogel, who believed, herself affected with an incurable disease, repaired to a small inn near Potsdam, where they ended their lives together. Lessmann, the humorous writer, like Burton, put an end to himself in a lit of melancholy. Sir Samuel Romilly, a man of brilliant genius, by whose efforts the criminal laws of England were remodeled?a man loved for his sweet nature and up right manliness?while overcome by grief at the death of his wife, with his own hand sought rest beyond. Michael Angelo, after receiving a painful injury to his leg by falling from a scaffold while at work upon "The Last Judgment," became so melancholy that he shut himself in his room, refused to see any one, and "resolved t* iei mmseu aie. ' x oriunateiy, nis intentions were frustrated by the celebrated physician Bacio Rontini, who learned by accident of his condition.?Popular Science Monthly. Steamships of the World. The new list of the merchant marine, compiled by the Bureau Veritas, gives the following statistics concerning the great ocean steamship companies of the world. TVi*. RntiaVi Tnrlta nf fUftqorft W ftnd thfi inv o British India Steam Navigation Company and the British India Associated Steamers?all one concern?head the list with 102 steamships. Their aggregate measurement is 239,635 tons. Next comes the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company ("P. and 0.") with thirty-six steamships, representing 216,887 tons. TheCompagnie desMes sageiies Maritimes has sixty-one vessels, whose aggregate tonnage is 202,522. The fourth on the list is the Norddeutacher Lloyd of Bremen. This company has sixty-six steamers, measuring in all 197,109 tons. Other important lines are the Navigazione Generale Italina, 10G steamers, 170,755 tons; the Compagnie Generale Transatiantique, 66 steamers, 167,437 tons; the Hamburg-American Packet Company, 56 steamers, 165,442 tons: the Wilson Line. 86 steamers, 158,089 tons; the Austrian Lloyd, 73 Steauers, 128,359 tons; the Allan Line, 39steamers, 123,038 tons; the Spanish Com .n ? Oj -A 04 ICO pama i ransaiantu;*, o*? siuamcio, ?,iuo tons; the White Star, 20 steamers, 95,370 tons; and the Cuaard, 20 steaiaera, 65,913 tuns. Letters Pat nt on a Ee.intj Device. The Patent Office has granted a patent on a device worthy of the ancient ? -1-- Ti l e u vxreuitu. il is u sy&iulu u 1 uu^ci-inpuiu^ and joint-reducing bands. The idea is to make thimble-shaped bands of thin and pliant aluminum in seta of various sizes to lit the fingers and thumbs, and, by wearing them at night, gradually produce the slender and tapering digits so much admired by the fashionable half of the world. The aluminum bands aro provided with rings, which arc crowded down on the outside, so as to compress the fingers and drive the blood back to any desired state of diminutiveness. The letters patent do not state whether the I use of the new device is attended with j pain or not.?Globc-Democrat. CANDY MAKING. BTORY OP HOW ALiL KINDS OP SWEETMEATS ARE PRODUCED. A Barrel of Sugar for One Kettleiul of Cream?Deft Fingers Make Pretty and Delicious "Goodies." ^ HE art and dftiT n ii twtfm mystery of candy mak used to be skill and sugar. But very many other things enter into candy "fin de siecle." Flowers and fruits add flavor and fragrance, and color, too, to ! sweetness, says the New York Press. Fine candies are made from the best double refined BUgar. It is put, a barrel at a time, into big, deep copper ketties, with more or less water, according to the consistence of the candy to be made of the syrup. The cooking is done by steam, which is turned into the iacket two-thirds high around the ket ties and soon has everything inside hissing hot without danger of burning. These candy kettles are watched all the t)me, and the Bteam shut off the very instant the syrnp is cooked enbugh. If it is to be creamed it goes into the creaming mill, where big curved iron arms, moved also by steam, whirl and toss it until it is a white foamy mass. Cream is usually ,kmade up" on a LwKffe /fj(\' ?fOta:oiW& \r[_ S^fflT"*' I _l? * /Til COQnT n "itn r SKETCHES 15 A < team table, in which a dozen small kettles are sunk. In these kettles the cream is heated and worked to a thick smooth liquid, viacidly adherent to whatever is thrust within it. Two girls at one end of the steam table are dipping walnuts. One has a pile of kernels at her elbow, a twisted loop of wire in her hand. She lays a kernel on the loop, dips it down under the thick, pink surface of her kettle, withdraws it, and drops it on a coarse sieve beside her. One swift, deft turn of wrist and fingers has done it all. The nuts now go to her companion; they are shapeless oblong bits, the yellow skin showing here aad there through the pink jacket. Eaoh is again set in a looped wire, goes down again into the thick pinkness, and comes up nearly doubled in size. A quick wrist motion sets it on a white paper, where other pink bonbons stand in rows. The Innrori thftllffh. is Dot ftbfUDtlV withdrawn. Instead it slips along up to the top, drawing the warm candy with it in two faint horns, then is turned slowly over and is taken away, leaving a truly artistic curlicue by way of finish. The process is the same with all creamcd nuts, also with creamed dates. GlacO bonbons, all except the very finest, are first molded in starch. It is made as fine as dust and packed smooth and hard in light wooden trays. Next the plastic shapes or molds, made fact to strips of wood, are pressed down into this fine packed starch, where they leave a perfect imprint. Into these "prints" candy warm enough to be fluid is ponded quickly and left to harden. As soonas the candics have "set" the trays pass into the drying room, which is heated by steam to -a degree that evaporates some of the water in the syrup and forms a bard outer crust. The trays are taken out of the room again as oon as that point is reached. When they are thoroughly cold the bonbons are picked out and laid in a tray of wire netting. Then a man with a huge bellowe plajs upon them until all this white dusty starch blanket is blown away. Next they are crystalized, which is accomplished by spreading them out ;' T- JV PI V * MOLEING PEPPERMINT CREAMS. tViSn and aViakinrr hot susrar thicklv over ?? ?o O ? them. The bulk of bonbons are dipped in chocolate. That is what happeas nine times in ten, no matter what the beginning. And every bit of chocolate dipping is hand work. Here is some one making young, green pea pods, true to life in form and color. He has balls of bright, green candy be fore him of the bigness of yoar thumb; he has also smaller and paler ones the size of peas. Flattening a large one to a thickish round, he lays these small ones along the middle, bends the two lobes nn together, and behold your pea p?d is ~r "o ? ready for its sugar coat. THE DEN OF THE COCOANUl' CHOPPER. Rose leaves and violets are crjstalized by dropping them for a minute into boiling hot candy, taking them instantly out, spreading them very thin and then sprinkling them with hot sugar?an altogether tedious and troublesome. process. It is much the some with glace fruit, save, indeed, that the fruit must be cooked antil clear ana sugarea an through. Creamed chocolate and glace almonds all begin the same way. First the nuts are blanched by scalding in hot water, 3ANDY FACTORY. then rua through a winnowing machine to remove the bulla. Then the almonds are put by the bushel into huge conical copper pots swung at an angle of fortyfive degrees, and so* arranged as to be revolved rapidly by a steam gearing at the bottom. Steam also keeps the pot warm, while thick, white syrup is poured over the almonds, that are kept whirling, whirling, until the sugar lies thick and white all over each kernel, j After they are creamed, or tbey are dipped m chocolate, perhapo both. Filberts and Brazil nuts fare the same way. Very many candies, especially those of satiny surface, are stamped between dies. The candy, flavored and colored, lies in a long roll on a marble slab, with a hooded gas flame to keep it warm enough to work. It is drawn oat to a small round; a quick knife cuts off a length that the next minute hag been DIPPING NUTS FOR BONBONS. caught betwixt iron jaws and turned to squares and rounds or what shapes you please. Caramels are made from soft sugar cream and butter, cooked barely enough to handle and flavored with chocolate, maple sugar or molasses. The mass Is stirred soft and grainy on a marble slab, and then chillcd to allow of cutting into squares. Last and best of all let it be set down that in candy making cleanliness rules. Ball Fighting on the Increase. Judging by the following summary of the past year's bull-fightiDg record in Spain, tbe national sport is ccnoim/ not failing in popularity. The number of first-class bull fights in important cities has been 2S9, the bulls killed being 1594. There have also been 307 fights of young bulls, "in which 1407 were slaughtered. Two men picadors were killed. Of the espadas and ban derillos sixteen were more or less seriously wounded. In each course from six to eighttbulls are done to death, hut recently in Madrid, in a fight which extended two days, eighteen were fiuished off. Many of the enthusiastic judge the merit of the tight by the number of horses slain. On some days fourteen or even more are gored to death by the long horns of the Spanish bulls. The bull ring in Madrid holds 15,000 spectators, who are still apparently delighted ?'L '" "I" * ? flftTPfl WICQ tue bptXlB'Jie 1U nuiui uiuvplentifully and aged or unsouud horses are disembowelled on sandy arena.?Atlanta Journal. The Mark Lane Express says: "We hear that the millers of Bordeaux, France, are complaining strongly of the inferior quality of American (1892) red winter wheat." i f . j To Seek the North Pole. The Norwegian explorer, Dr. Prid-j jot Nansen, is about to start oa another. ^ expedition ia search of the North Pole. He returned in 1889 from & remarkable ' ?? ??? fl?Mnlind T)r VnnflAn ujra^c ih>ivoo vhvwm*4?**?? ? recently came from Norway to London,'' where he has lectured before the Royal Geographical Society on his proposed expedition.' The explorer is over six feet tall, finely built and of the ideal Scandinavian type. In speaking of the proposed voyage recently he said he should be in absolute command of every- ' body on board, scientists included. He will leave Norway in June, revictual at ?? " <3 i-J i_ T..1 l i nova Ziemoia, ana Bomcuue m o uij siarv for the Kara Sea, skirting the Siberian coast as far as the month of the River j Lena, from which point he will steer J north until pack ice renders farther nar- H igation impossible. Then he will ram r I the ship as far into the ice as possible ] and remain for the winter. He expects 1 to be gradually taken by the ice floes DR. XAK0EK. , .'flj right serosa the polar region down into the east Greenland Sea, between Spitsbergen and' Greenland, haying in this ' ?-a ?J >i VT__av. ttAu way reuoeu miu powou iuc ?u?u l uw. He will take provisions for fire yean, thinking this will certainly be the limit ' of hie voyage. The vessel in which be expects to reach the Pole, a? described , by the New York World, is very service- / able,and is provided with all modern im- ! *? | provements. She is rigged as a three* master fore-and-aft schooner with square sails, which can be rigged on the foremast when required. The engines are of about one hundred and seventy indicated horse power. She takes a balloon, to be held csptite for -purposes of ob- , servation, and canies seven boats. Two or tnem are capaoie 01 noiaing we entire crew with provisions for several months, and wArm teats in ctte the ship must be abandoned. The sides of the vessel are so shaped as to permit her to rise when under pressure from the ioe. Jj She has been christened Fiam, a Nor- * wegian word meaning forward. The Ibis. Yob have all read aboat Egypt, that ancient country which has its great pyra- V I THE BACKED IBIS. mids and monument? thousands of years old, and dates back beyond the times of ' Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Many of the old Egyptian monuments have hieroglyphics on them, in which the figure of this bird is frequently found. Their mummies, or preserved remains, are also found in old Egyptian , i.?u.. jf ia oallpd the sacred ibis. IUU1UO) UVilW <w ?v wo..*? w as it must have been an object of wor- I ship to the ancient Egyptians, who, as jour Bible tells you, were idolators. It seems indeed strange that human beings should worship a mere bird like the ibis, which is only the size of an ordinary ! fowl.?Now York Mail and Express. I Roma:.cc ru. Reality. JlraLei He?"Miss Hyson?Margaretta! I may call you Margaretta, mayn't I? Margaretta! That name; so full of love and romance! 80?" Female Voice from A.bove?"Mag!" You M-a-a-g! Tell that young man that it is time to go home."?Puck. - 1 Fruit and Vegetable Di?tinctron. Strawberries are fruit; so are toma toes, melons ana cucumoers. une suggested distinction between a vegetable and a fruit is that the latter may be eaten raw, while the former must be cooked,. but that doeant hold always. Technically a fruit incloses the seeds of the plant and is matured overground; plant growth matured underground is a vegetable.?New York Commercial Advertiser. ? It is said that about 10,000 gross of / pens are produced from a tou of iteel.