Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE LITTLE SHOES. bt yrujj r. chambkrlai*. A pair of little slippers, Or shoes, no matter the oaine, T onmfitirnes meet as I rummage. And a sigh betrays the pain That lingers In my bosom; And I sit in the garret there In thought cf a vanished summer That gave a bud most rare. Ton would forgive the tear-drop? Tho' men must be firm, they say? IX you knew of the blossom which faded And fell with the flowers of May; Of how, on the quiet hillside, We broke the carpeted sod And laid away our portion Of the angel returned to God. Unsung sleep these dear secrets, And only now and then Are we permitted to wander Away from the marts of men? To dwell with our household treasures And their history, as we choose? Dreaming such dreams as mine to-day Of this little pair of shoes. Elk Point, s. d. Hi* Plfonotoin'oMiopinn m.iiuoiioioiuoiuiooiuii B RemarKatle Romance. BY EMILY THORNTON. ( \ CHAPTER XXVL WML ITXVZEOAlL RECEIVES AN OFFER. "Miss Nevergal],"said Andrew, a pommm footman at Castle Cairn, as he | knocked at the door of Lady Linwood's boudoir, and was bidden to enter, "a gentleman is in the drawing-room who wishes to see yon." Did he give you a card?" "No, miss, neither would he tell his name." "Do you know him?" still queried Ethel. ' "I cannot call his name, yet I have often seen him." MIt is of no consequence. I will be with him presently," returned the governess, as she resumed her book and continued the lesson she was giving her charge. On no account would she neglect a duty for any person whatever. When the task was finished, and not until thon, she descended the grand broad stairway and entered the drawing it. ruum ui tut> uaono. There a surprise, indeed, awaited her, In the presence of Robert Glendenning. Certainly she had never anticipated a islt from her former tormentor, and the sightof him now brought back so many unpleasant recollections that she hastily tamed to retreat , Too late! The young man started forward and placed himself between the door and ber slight figure, thus completely preventing her sudden flight "Pardon me. Miss Nevergail," ho remarked, ia a perfectly respectful manner, very different from his former unpleasantly familiar one. WI am very anxious to have a little conversation with :yon, before leaving this place forever, aad therefore I beseech you to remain a few minutes. I promise not to detain yon long." "Very well," returned the young girl, gravely, taking the seat ho offered her. "Why do you leave shire?" "The death of my uncle has, of course, deprived my sister and myself of hi9 care and guardianship. As the title and estate now fall to his younger brother, JHtzroy, the present incumbent must remove and leave the hall, to be occupied or not by the new baronet, as he sees fit. 'j Lady Constance will seek a residence with some relatives in London, and we hall make a home somewhere together, unless?unless " Here the young man paused, greatly ^ embarrassed for a proper conclusion to the sentence he had commenced. Breaking the silence again, for it was becoming oppressive, he resumed: "Miss-Ethel, I como this morning to lay before you a proposition that I hope wiii meet with your approval and sanction. I must first, however, express to you my deep regrets for the offensive manner in which I used to treat you. I -know not why I was led to make myself o . disagreeable. I was probably promoted by a spirit of mischief, but as soon a? you left the Hall so suddenly I became aware of my great mistake. V *1 never tnought I should miss you as / much as I did, but as soon as I could see I you no more I became miserable. I lost my appetite and was almost beside myself with despair. I saw then, for the first time, that I really loved you. "Kay, said he, seeing her start up indignantly, as though to leave him, "do not go. Allow me to fiuish what I came to say. ...J loved you, but I felt that it was without hope. In my egotistical haste I knew that I had won, perhaps what I merited, your contcmpt. "To-day I felt that I could endure this misery no longer. I resolved to see you, to ask forgiveness for my course in the past, and to crave the privilege of retvfntriTiiT fnrmor m<QtnVn hv hniniy n.1 ?' *"? -J towed to visit yon as a friend until I can win your lovo and ask you to become my wife. If you will permit me thus to visit you, I will send my sister to a safe retreat with a lady friend, and will take board in this village, where I can see yon often, and finally succeed in perhaps winning your regard." "Mr. Glendenning," interposing Ethel, '* "what you propose is an utter impossibility. I can and do forgive the annoyance I confess your conduct occasioned ae In other days, but the proposed visits I must positively decline. It could never wsnlt as you seem to imagine, for I assure you my affections could never be won." "You are hasty In thus answering," Interrupted the lover. "You surely cannot thus foretell vrhat your feelings would be under such different auspices. * Allow me." 1 > "Indeed, indeed, Mr. Glendenning, I must Interrupt you by distinctly saying that, as I am situated, I cannot receive visits; therefore, I musl teg of you .to receive this, my final answer. It would bo tho same after years of friendly intercourse. I do not love you, and I never can lovo you. I forgive you, and will ever think of you kindly; beyond that we can never go." "Then there is no necessity for my remaining," he said, sadly, as he arose to leave. "None whatever," was the firm reply. "Miss Nevergail, believe me, as long as I live I shall regret Laving made youf I 'residence at the Hall so disagreeable. You certainly had enough to endure in being under obligations to amuse an irritable invalid. The rude manner in which you were dismissed excited my deepest sympathy," "For which I am very grateful," kindly returned the young girl. "If ever, as a friend, I can serve you In any manner, will you allow me to do so?" "I will, if I know your address n_ *TfiaTl8TioT"qinw~T[ecidea, but I will leave it with the Postmaster of this place. And now, thanking you for your kind forgiveness, although feeling deeply for my unrequited love, I will bid you farewelL " \ . ' ' * . rj, . - ? k'' A:*-; j .i KObert Glendenning held oat his hand as he spoke, and seeing that genuine tears were floating In his eyes Ethel laid hers In it without hesitation. Stooping over the little white hand he j pressed his lips upon it, then hurriedly | left the room and she saw his face no I more. That night the whole family left the Hall, and the grand old mansion.was close'd waiting for the arrival", or Orders, of Sir Fitzroy Glendenning. The residence of this gentleman was unknown, but it was believed that he went to America, therefore every effort was to be made by the proper ones to discover his retreat, in order to make known to him the honors that awaited his.acceptance"Tet, while this resolve and duty was to be immediately put in force, many hearts rebelled against his return, and the present aspect of affairs certainly did not denote esteem or affection. All united in feeling that, although acquitted by law of any knowledge of his unhappy brother's fate, circumstances still looked very dark where he was concerned. CHAPTER XXV.U. THE MYSTERIOUS WALLET. Drawing an easy seat close to the center-table for Mrs. Clum to occupy, Dr. Elfenstein seated mmsen in nis own office chair, and laying the wallet before him, said: "This, Mrs. Clum, is a little bag, containing something very much valued by the poor man who has just left this world. I presume it will acquaint us with the residence and address of his near relatives. In order that they may be notified of his death, I deem it my duty to immediately examine its contents, and as I do so I wish you to be present as a witness to the transaction." Signifying her willingness to be this witness, Mrs. Clum bade him proceed. The keys to the wallet Dr. Elfenstein found tied close to the edge of the handle. Inserting this in the lock, he at once opened it and drew forth its contents. All that presented itself to his notice was about fifty pounds in money, and a package of closely written papers. These papers were without address or signature, but seemed a short journal of dally events. Little did Dr. Elfenstein dream, as he/ so coolly turned over these leaves, that they contained matters so vitally important to himself and his future life. Seeing no other mode of ascertaining who the dead man really was, the Doctor commencod at the beginning to read what follows. "June 18? "My God, my God! Why hast Thou forsaken me? Is now almost daily my cry. "Alone! horribly, cruelly alonel how can it be that I still exist? "Nearly eighteen years have I survived this dreadful solitude, and not until today have I gained from my unnatural keeper the slight boon of pen, ink and paper. This gained, I will divert myself by noting down some incidents of my life. But to what purpose do I write? "Who can ever read what, out of an aching heart, I shall commit to these pages? "I know not! "Yet, after my death, some person may penetrate this living tomb, and then they sball here see recorded the terrible wrong, the fearful fate that has thus befallon an unhappy peer of the realml "Have I been missed from my home? Has any ono mourned over my unexplained absence? Has my poor Constance wept over my loss? And has my dear Irother Fitzroy forgiven my harshness now that he thinks me dead? "Dead? Yes; all think me dead! "I see clearly at this late date the' whole of Reginald's fiendish plot. "He used that dagger on my arm to draw blood, in order to leave the impression that I had been murdered, before he shut me into this living tomb. "Yet I live. I, Sir Arthur Glendenning, Bart,, am alive to-day, incarcerated in this concealed room, built in the ruined part of my own residence." "Ha!" exclaimed Earle Elfenstein, startinc to his feet as he read thus far. "Wha.t have I here? If this be true, we have an explanation of Sir Arthur's fate. Mrs. Clum, we must have others present at the reading of this important paper. Let us both seek instantly for the presence of our neighbors. Will you summon Lawyer Huntley, who lives next door, while I go for Rev. Mr. Lee? Not one moment will we waste, for who knows but yonder corpse may be all that is left of poor Sir Arthur Glendenning." Replacing the papers and keeping the precious wallet in his hand, PJarle at once left the house for the manse, while Mrs. Clum ran out to summon Mr. Huntley. Tn Iors than half an hour thev both Dhisjcian's office, accompanied Dy the' above-named gentlemen. Then, while eager attention was to be seen on every face, the Doctor again opened the wallet and read as far as we have written above. "Merciful heaven, can this be true.'" exclaimed Mr. Huntley. "Doctor, please read that last clause once more. I am so dazed with surprise that I can scarcely understand it." "Yet I live. I, Sir Arthur Glendenning, Bart, am alive to-day, incarcerated in this concealed room, built in the ruined part of my own residence," again read Dr. Elfenstein. After a pause lie continued: "The fact that this room existed was known only to my latner, sir tieonrey, and he, shortly before his death, confided the secret to my brother Reginald and myself. We three were alono together when he taught us how to open the panels by the aid of a sharp pointed knife, and after leading us inside this strange apartment, he charged us to keep the existence of the place a profound secret, as tho time might come when such a hidden retreat might become of immense importance. "Dear father! how little did he dream that Reginald, for the sake of usurping my lawful title and estates, would drag me hither, in the darkness of night, ami* by chaining me like a beast to the floor, by the help of his valet, Antoine Duval, keep me a prisoner for months, years, life! "Oh, that horrible Antoine! how I always disliked his soft, fawning ways, his smooth tongue and cringing airs. "Villain that he is! Villains, indeed, both master and man. "But I will not thus anticipate. I will go back to our father's leading his two young sons to this place, and pointing out its many conveniences for spending a time in hiding. " 'See,' he said, 'here is a bathroom, with all its appointments, opening from thia small and neatly furnished bedchamber. Soft mattresses, plenty of bedding, heat from an unseen register, through pipes leading to the kitchen ranges. Oh, everything is complete!' "Z.t was the only time I ever saw this room, until the night I was thrust within 'i ty my inhuman brother, Reginald. two flays and" one nTgh't after~I-was forcTEly taken from my bed. "Ah, that night! when they overpowered mo in my own room, shall I ever forget it? "Shall that terrible scene ever be oblit- I erated from my weary brain? "I had retired rather earlier than usual, and had fallen immediately asleep. About midnight, I should judge, I was awakened by feeling a hand pressing something to my nostrils. "I instantly had my complete senses, so dashed the hand with Jhe chloroformed sponge from'myTace,'tLeii"bpraug witli a bound upon the floor. "Two men stood above me, and firm bands seized and pressed me back, while a gag was forced into my mouth. "A dim light was burning, and I sa^ that, although masked, one figure was like Fitzroy's, and his dressing-gown was wrapped around his form. CHAPTER xxvin. THE JOURNAL CONTINUED. On how I struggled to free myself Once I did get a hand loose, and tor< the mask from one face, to find it was not Fitzroy but Reginald who was perpe trating this outrage upon me, his eldei brother. "Turning then to the _other, I. recog nized the form an3 voice oT Aritoiix Duval. "In the course of the conflict, Regi nald drew out a dagger and plunged i' into my arm, then threw the dagger red with blood, on the carpet, sayinf grimly: " 'Fitzrov's dagger. Lie there anc testify that he did this deed!' "Oh, my brother, mj innocent brother have they dared accuse thee of death? "This question harrows me night anc dav. "Alas! I tremble for Fitzroy, whei such a fiend as Reginald has provec himself to be is lot loose upon his track, "Bu| to go on: Binding my hands? for all mf strenpCIT" couT3 avaTT TTEtl* against two hardy men?they passed s rope around my body, after first putting on my clothing, and, dragging me from the window, swung me from the balcony to the ground below. "Carrying then my helpless form tc the lake, they there bound up mj wounds, staunching the flow of blood, which until then they had allowed tc drip as it would, then turned and noiselessly bore me to a lonely cave, situated in the heart of Demon's Wood?a place never frequented, and, I presume, the existence of which was unknown. "This place had been prepared for my reception, and after fastening me firmlj to a staple with a chain they had in ron/Hnaac fcViAv lftft mp.. cached and helpless, there alone, for two days and one night. "Twice they both came with food, and, while one stood with a pistol over my head, to prevent a word, the other fed me. "On the second night they visited me about midnight, and, merely saying: " 'All is now ready for your reception, rise and go with us,' tbey placed me in a wagon as before, and took me back tc the Hall. "Leaving the wagon conccaled outside the grounds, they between them carried me to the ruined part, and, entering, conveyed me into this, my prison, which they had secretly arranged for my use. I was not brought here at once, it seems; because on the very night of their daring outrage they had discovered thai some revolving iron shelves they had fitted to the entrance could not be se-' curcly fastened, as the large screws to be inserted were too short* Not wishing tc postpone the horrible business, they had hastily prepared the cave, and held me there until other screws could be procured. "Now *11 was ready, and here, jus1 eighteen years ago, I was thrust anc kept a prisoner by means of a long chaiu fastened from my ankle to an iron bolt in the wall. "XTn f ervnlron nnttl T wot ~1> UL UUP WUiU TTiVO CUunv.li uuuii 2 no. secuYely Fastened," then The " gag was taken from my mouth and the ropes from my limbs. "At first my tongue and month we sc stiff I could make no sound, but seeing that both were leaving me, closing the entrance securely inside by standing up the shelves and tightly screwing in place the long screws, I found voice, and calling to them to pause I begged an explanation of the cruelty to which I had been subjected, and asked why I was tc be imprisoned there and how long I was to be detained. "At first Keginal would not answer, but finally he did astonish me by these words: " 'You are to be kept concealed in this place as long as you live, so the soonei you die the better for all! I shall not, however, take you life! I never will be a murderer! Food will come to you every night, about half past nine or ten; 011 these shelves. You will empty the plate on dishes you have here, and setting it back the empty plate will at once return to me. By this returning plate 1 shall know you still live. When you fail to return it no more will come, as you will then be supposed to have died. ] alone shall attend to sending this food.1 I TO BE CONTINUED. J TEMPERANCE. BUR *TRISO nAT. "Papn. can you please give me fifty cents for my spring bat? Most all thu academj girls have theirs." So, May, I can't spare the money." The above request was persuasively made by a sixteen-year-old maiden as she was preparing for school one flue spring morning, The refusal came from the parent in a curt, indifferent tone. The disappointed girl went to school. The father started for bis place of business. On his way thither he met a - - -? 1 -M inena, una, uemg iiua-iciivn-nui-mii, invited him into a saloon lor a drink. As usual, there were others there, and the man that could not spare his daughter fifty cents for a hat treated the crowd. When about to leave he laid half a dollar on the counter, which just paid for the drinks. Just then the Buloon-keeper's daughtei entered, and on going behind the bar, said ' Papa. I want fifty cents for my spring hatV" "All right,'' said the dealer, and taking op the half-dollar from the counter handed it over to the girl, who departed smiling. May's father seemed dazed, walked out rIoho and said to himself. "I had to bring nay fifty cents hero for the rumseller's daughter to buy u hat with, after refusing it to mj own daughter. I'll never drink anothei drop."' And he kept his pledge. "DBIXK AND THE WORKJNGMAJf." fn the British Workman Archdeacon Farrar has a paper on "JDrink and the Workingman." In this he sets forth in admirable manner why worlrinjjmeu should becom< total abstainers, treating the difficulties o! the practice in two parts (1) The necessitj of tacing the ridicule of others and (2) Th< pain of giving up a customary indulgence, Touching the first, he suys, "Men are nevci long derided for doing right. In the lonj. run they are respected for doing it. Work iugmen have before them the example o great tribunes of the people, like Richard Cobdon and John Bright, who tvere abstain ers when it was more difficult to be so thai it is now. and of living leaders whom the} trust, whose abilities and energies havt raised them to a high position, such as Mr John Burns, M. P., and Mr. Keir Harrlie, M P.. and Alderman Ben 'fillet, and others o their foremost representatives, who are, ! believe, ardent total abstainers. Foronemai who would laugh at his mate because be hat taken the pledge or wears the blue ribbon thereare a hundred who would admirn an< Imitate his independence and faithfulness.' Touching the habit of indulgence, he point Dut among other cogent statements, tha there are 20,000 prisoners in England who so far from suffering from total abstinence improve in health during their incarceration The Arclideacon begins by saying that in iii series of papers he is addressing to working men, he wishes "to state why it seems to m that they would be acting most wisely, am in such a way ub to help the amelioration o their class, and to increase their chances o individual happiness, if, at once and withou hesitation, in present circumstances, the formed the resolution to be total abstain i era.-' PEACE OF EUROPE. i , 1 ENORMOUS EXPENSES OF THE GREAT POWERS. i The Annual Cost is Nearly $900,000,000 ? France and Germany Both Seeking New Field! pieces and Carriages, I ) _____? ? OEEYER let therf 1 C "? be "Peace on eartfc j I and good -will to' men " t! well intends dj ' xiW'J'- wiV// "wr^e8 tt Paris corf respondent of th< . San Francisco Chronicle, but do you know that it costs nearly $900,000,000 I annually to "keep the peace" ol r Europe alone? There isn't a sign oi a -war cloud in sight anywhere, and I yet never has humanity had such e prospect to contemplate as now. When the mighty struggle does begir the earth will resound with the clash wall "ir-iaf-m pf.orl UL 111 111 iU HO yjx rnou WW! ?Mwt>? I I I A BATTE. il OF P i thoroughly disciplined, and possess! ing the means of destruction the mur| dering power of which increases from j day to day. Now, whether war brings glory or , booty, it iB a bad sort of industry. I To be great and strong, so as to b I one's own master and able to defend t one's self, is not enough nowadays. It is necessary to be in a condition tc with a certainty of winnine. sc as to carry off money and provinces. During the ten years that followed I the peace of Frankfort, and while the French Army was being reconstituted, I France was periodically threatened , with invasion, and this was because i she was feeble, unarmed and suffering still from her bleeding wounds, Bui > from the day when it was certain the Republic could fight with equal arme | Germany let her severely alone, and went to work to increase her owr peace force, so that her war budget, which sixteen years ago was only $52,I 000,000, is to-day $120,000,000, and, i as she induced Anstria and Italy to be > her allies, they, too, had to increase their budgets. Now the cost to the Triple Alliancc of keeping up itt 1 forces is $282,000,000 annually. That , of France is $120,000,000 for the i Army and $45,000,000 for the Navy; br- v. the rebuilding of and keeping up i the Army and Navy of France has cost I 13,600,000,000 in the past twenty-two years, and when we add to this enor; mous sum the cost to other countries, , what a tribute do we find paid to the minotaurue of modern wars! I A good deal has been published i lately about the field artillery or these European armies. It has been said, for instance, that Germany has actually in store 3000 cannon with caissons and necessary ammunition, sc that in case of Eudden war they could bring out these 3000 pieces immediately. The conclusion is that the \ \ GERMAN j'EBLD A! r French have permitted themselves t( be outdone, and that it iB necessary tc very quickly adopt & new material, sc as not to remain inferior to the Ger mans. As a matter of fact, in field artillery France is not inferior to any othe: j country. The French ordnance in | vented by Colonel de Bange datei r from 1876, and is more recent thai j the Krupp weapon which is still in use It is superior, also, in the closing o the breach ; for the German pieces ar< I provided with a wedge system of clos t ing which does not furnish a hermeti 1 cal fastening, and presents a consid j erable surface at the side of the piece r as much for blows as for dirt whicl i <;an thus accumulate in the mechanism, Finally, the wedge, after an explosion } permits gas to escape, which injure! [ the cannon. It was shown that an; 1 number of pieces were thus put out o 1 service in 1870-73. ] In France a fastening invented b; ' General Freville de Beaulieu is used 9 This, closing, is gas-tight and lias no t the inconveniences of the German sys \ tern. There is room, however, to per feet it still more by adding a safety s apparatus. It may happen that ii ? moments of precipitation the breed 1 iB not completely closed when the gin 1 is fired. The result is accidents sue: 'j as those which have been too frequem y recently. With a safety apparatui . which would prevent the shot fron being fired unless the breeoh was ee curely closed, accidents -would be avoided and security and confidence would be given to men called to the ; service of tlie cannon. The Krupp guns now in service do not, however, possess this safety apparatus. The German pieces are relatively light, as are their carriages. Some say this is a great advantage for the latter, but it is not an important one by reason of the powder in use in the two countries. In Germany, as in Italy, a powder with a base of nitros glycerine is used. From a ballastie i point of view thiB powder gives very remarkable results, but it has a capit tal fault?it frees a gas of a very r powerful acidity, which produces ero1 sion in the guns, and very often, after a limited number of shots, it renders the piece useless. The fact will, per! haps, be denied in German newspapers, i but it is perfectly true. The French i smokeless powder has nono of these f drawbacks and it has nearly all the advantages of the German powder, so I that the advantage is altogether with t France. How about the new material in t Krupp's warehouses? Well, it does not exist, voila tout. Three thousand cannon, with their carriages, their HENCH ARTILLERY. caissons and their ammunition could not be constructed without the whole world knowing it. For such a work thousands of men would be employed ' for several years, and the fact would be known at Essen and in the neigh' borhood and consequently in Gerl many. From there the news would spread throughout Europe. It would 1 require hundreds of millions to pay 1 for such a new outfit, and such a sum could not be spent without having it, I and to have it a vote of Parliament is necessary. Up to the present moment the German Keichstag has voted notht ing. If this material existed it would be distributed to the different army ' corps, In the event of war there ; would be no time to teach the men to ' handle these guns, and not only would ' they be useless, but even dangerous 1 for those who were obliged to use ' without understanding them. Like France, Germany is really seeking anew cannou. For a long while what is called tne "quick-firing" cannon ' has been known. By rapid firing is meant a theoretical firing of twelve to > fifteen shots a minute; but in practice xi.i -R? > l/LLLB tJUlUJVLlCDD lO iiCY CI UUtauacu. juj i means of changes in the metalic socket i containing the cartridge, the projectile and the priming, the projectile is placed in the breech by one movement, the powder box is closed and by means i of a blow the shot is fired. Then the breech is re-opened, the socket is thrown back automatically, a new > cartridge is put in, and so o:q. In the Navy these quick firing can1 non can be used practically, because i they can be mounted on fixed carriages, with springs and brakes which permit the guns to recoil at the firing and then automatically take them back i to place again. For field service this 1 system has not yet been practically ap plied, because the gun carriage can! not be fixed. The artillerists have ' \ ^ FlTILliERY tN ACTION. > tried prope, brakes and anchors, but ) without perfect satisfaction. Theprob> lem is difficult, as a system of attach ment is necessary that will serve both in the sand or among the rocks, in r mud as well as on dry land. Of course r the apparatus of attachment must be - made so that iV can be easily de3 tached from the soil, for when thelim1 bers are rushed forward to take the . guns away not a minute must be lost, f for they may be needed elsewhere very 3 quickly. The piece should not be too - firmly fixed to the soil, for if the men - wished to change its position by a for ward movement a good deal of time , would be lost in disengaging it. The i ideal gun carriage has not yet been found, neither in Germany nor in , Prance, but the problom of the piece s itself may be considered as solved, at { least in this country. i- Thu French and German Armlet have about i5000 pieces of field artily lery, and you can understand what . time it would take to construct new t material and what the expense would - be. Then, too, as is customary, a - transformation of material is generally r had at first. It would, perhaps, be i possible to improve the French matei rial without either transforming or i changing it. This would be arrived at i by the addition of the mechanism that t is being sought for, spade, anchor or s brake. A complete change of material i will impose itself in a given time when the solution is found. It ie fcr this that they are working in all the arsenals and manufactories of the State aa well as in private factories. In Germany the old material is still in service, but recently it has been made a little better. The ordinance experts have succeeded in obviating the frequent erosions produced in the breech by adapting a metallic bourlet carX J1 *1 A _ ^ tnuge siimiur iu uibl ui a. iiiUBAct. This bourlet forms a fastening and checks the escape of gas. Meanwhile, they are searching everywhere for the gun-carriage of the future, one that will absorb the recoil. Krupp in Germany and Canet in France appears to be on the point of finding the solution bo long sought. The second question is rather com* plex. What cannon will be suitable? Constructors are not tacticians, but they will satisfy the latter if they are told exactly what is wanted. There are two schools?the old, which is partisan to the defensive, and the new, imbued with the principles of Napoleon, which exalt the offensive. This latter theory seems to be more suited to the French character. If the defensive be adopted they would need heavy and powerful fixed cannon; if on the contrary they should take the offensive, light pieces would be necessary, and it appears that calibers of six or eight centimeters are preferable. Herr Krupp tried before the Emperor two rapic^-firing pieces of 9ix centimeters. Constructed of nickel steel, these cannon were all closed with wedges, but they were of a new model. There is an automatic extractor for the metallic socket and a safety apparatus. I believe that the Germans were satisfied with the trial of these two guns. The carriage, constructed to avoid the recoil, is double; a small carriage supports the piece, and it in turn is supported by a large carriage mounted on wheels. They are held together by a pole bolt, which permits the cannon to have a certair displacement. The large carriage it armed with a sort of spade which holde it to the soil and its two wheels have automatic restraints with friction and ft lever which stop the movement of wheels. This is the exact situation. The French are looking on tranquilly, for they feel that their Forges and Chantiers, their Creusot, their Saint-Chamond, their Barriquand and their other establishments will work without ceasing and will find something as good as Germany can evolve. A New Tide Indicator. The United States Coast an? Geodetic Survey established som( months ago a tidal indicator on tht edge of the wharf at Fort Hamilton, which, when onco understood, is likely to be of much value to the vessels of all kinds passing in or out of the harbor. *? _ ji _ _j Ab tar as is Known 11 is ine htbt/ oi its kind ever constructed, and for that reason it was thought well to allow it to rnn for some months before making public announcement of its existence, in order that its continued operation might be assured. A small model oi it exhibited at the World's Fair by the Coast Survey attracted much attention from those interested in tidal matters. TEE TIDE INDICATOR. Any one passing through the Narrows may notice on the wharf at Fort Hamilton a small wooden building, inside of which the self-registering gauge is kept, and over which the tidal indicator is displayed. The latter appears as a large semi-circle, with its diameter resting on the roof of the tide house. The outer circular edge of the semi-circle is divided into spaces by means of heavy black lines, which can readily be seen from the deck of a vessel passing at any point in the Narrows. These divisions are numbered by figures in black, so large that they can easily be read by the aid of an ordinary marine glass from the greatest distance possible for paesing vessels. These figures indicate the height of the tide in feet, and the shorter division lines show half-feet. A pointer turning about the centre oi -1- 4-1,? oArre IH6 circle ewccpo tuu xuu^ vvjqV, of the graduations, as the hand of a clock moves over the dial, only thai in this case it moves toward the ri&ht, or clockwise, when the tide is rising and toward the left when it i6 falling. At any moment tho pointer indicates the depth of water above or below the plane of reference used in constructing the charts issued by the survey, which is that of mean low water. At extreme low water the surface of the sea is lower than this plane, and the indicator shows this by pointing on the left of the zero line?toward the minus sign shown near the left edge ol the semi-circle. The rise or fall of the tide is so sIoty that it is impossible, of course, to know whether it is rising or falling by simply looking at the pointer, but au arrowhead in the centre of the disk i? made to point up as long as the tide it rising and down when it is falling. Thus, by looking at the indicator, the navigator can tell the exact stage oi the tide and whether it is ebb or flood. The index pointer is moved by means of u cord or wire passing over a large wheel to the axis of which the pointer is fixed. One end of the cord is fastened to a float, which moves up and down with the rise and fall of tho tide. To the other end a counterpoise is fastened, so that, as will be easily understood, the wheel moves in one direction while the tide is falling, and in the other when it is rising. To prevent the disturbance of tho float by waves due to wind or passing vessels, it is confined in a long box, to which the water is admitted through a few small openings. In this way, while any general change in the level of the sea affects the float, short waves and momentary disturbances do not,-?New York Tribune. \ \ RELIGIOUS READING. i i "i < j ' the rkst-dat. This is the first gift of God to the human race. Shall we esteem it a slight thing and take no pains to preserve our inheritance? H we inherit a house and land or money, or any tangible possession, we are not likely to let our neighbors encroach upon it, or to give ji over 10 mem ior an inadequate sum. ic? this is What we do when we permit our Sunday rest here to be given over wh-.lly to activity. It makes little difference, so far as the actual loss to ourselves is concerned, whether we lose our Sunday rest by doing paid labor or whether we allow it to be encroached upon by social demands of whatever nature; the loss of all that might have been ours through rest is the same. Yet there is of course a difference in the character of the loss and in its effect upon ourselves. There are many instances?to the shame of our Christian civilization be it spoken?where there seems hardly any choice. The laboring man must labor on Sunday or lose his job. Thirty years ago the president of an impor- i tant railway, in answer to a petir tion from the pastors and people of a certain terminal town that trains should not be sent out on Sunday, made the reply, "God made rivers to run on Sunday, and why not railroads?" The audacious and senseless remark caused disgust amcng many who were not thrilled with horror at its impiety. Bat. 30 years have passed and all railroads "ran" on Sunday, and Sunday >rork has become a matter so much of course that a very great number of people seem to be forced to perform it, however much against their will. If these Sunday workers were to take account of ali they lose by their Sunday work they might be willing to run considerable risk of being out of work rather than continue in it. If they are ill-pnid for their week-day services,and mostof ;hem thinkthey are. how much less adequate is the pay for Sunday work, which not only takes their labor, but robs them of their privileges. It ifl no small thing for a man to give up bis weekly opportunity of becoming acquainted with his children and influencing them as a father should do; no small thing to lose the time from the rest which his body needs, and the refreshment through reading and pleasant conversation that his mind requires. But greatest of all is the loss of time for worship, for study of the . I "Rihlfi fnr nil tbftf llffa a men nhnvp thfltrAnH mil] of life and brings him into touch with the highest things. 1 When we lose our Sunday rest voluntarily s and wantonly through mere idleness, lying , late in bed, spending the time in sauntering andBocialvisiting, how great is the lose! And how senseless are we if we thus wantonly and for no returnsquanderourprecious heritage.?[American Messenger. BEING USED TO HELP OTHERS. With many the great controlling idea is, "How best can I help myself? In what ways and by what methods can I secure the greatest advantages and the most of them for myself?" The idea of helping others, helping them over the rough places of life, helping them to become better men and women, is altogether a secondary matter, if indeed it has the least considerate attention at ail. Others may be helped by them, but it is incidental . and not directly and positively intentional. ' It is from no set and devoted purpose. The help is the result which flies off from the main purpose of helping one's own self, regardless of the good of any one else. Of course, no thanks are due to the selfish seeker of personal gain and comfort. Bishop Brooks truly says: "Not by mere moods may I know whether I am living the life of God, but only by knowing that God ia , using me 10 ueip oiucis. uun wuujr uwo are who seek to settle the question whether , they be Christians or not, by consulting their feelings! If they cannot discern any particular hostility towards God and do not feel hateful towards the members of the church to which they belong, they conclude that they i must be pretty fair Christians, whereas they ! may be verily destitute of the life of God. The truth is, a personal possession of the life 1 of God will constrain one to help others, to help them out of pure love for their best good, without hope of fee or reward. There will be a positive yearning to do this. It will not necessarily be in the form of money in all cases, nor even in numerous cases. It will not necessarily take the shape of leaving one's own duties and neglecting home obligations; hut it will manifest itself in a thousand little opportunities of free handed assistance where neighborly help is needed, where kind words may be fitly spoken, where expressions of timely sympathy may find sweet lodging place. If God really lives in us we will show it by living in other lives. ?[Religious Herald. DOING ONE THING AT A 111IE. I never could have done what I have done without the habits of punctuality, order and diligence?without the determination to concentrate myself on one subject at a time, no matter how quickly its successor should come upon its heels, which I then formed. Heaven knows I write this in no spirit of self-praise. The man who reviews his own life as I do mine in going on here, from page to page, had need to have been a good man indeed if he would be spared the sharp consciousness of many talents neglected, many opportunities wasted, many erratic and perverted feelings constantly at war within the breast, and defeating him. I do not hold one natural gift. I dare say, that I have not abused. ' Mv meaning simply is that whatever 1 have tried to do in my life I have tried with all my heart to do well: that whatever I have devoted myself to I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest. I have never believed it possible that any natural or improved ability can obtain immunity from the companionship of the steady, plain, ' hard-working qualities and hope to gain its end. There is no such thing as such fulfill( ment on this earth. Some happy talent and some fortuDate op1 portunity may form the two sides of the lad[ der on which some men mount, but the round of that ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear; and there is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent talent and ( sincere earnestness. Never to put one hand > to anything on which I could not throw my whole self, and never affect depreciation of my work, whatever it was. I now find to have been my golden rules.?Charles Dickens. TEE MTJ8TAF.D SEED OF THE KIXGEOM OF GOD. It is one of the mistakes that mankind are constantly making, to judge prematurely. 1 They decide upor. the character and potency of influences at work before they are mai tured. Hence they fail to recognize the frequency of the occurrence of the evidence that the small things are confounding the mighty. They fail to duly appreciate things of apparently small moment because they do ; not wait to see full results. How many principles and individuals once despised or unnoticed are now honored and revered. The 1 seeds of truth, the principles instiiled into i the mind and heart of the child by . that praying mother. in her deep p seclusion" have changed the destiny of nations and pervaded a continent. Said an honored and useful man who gave life for his country in the late was The prayers and counsels of my mother alwaye came to me in memory in the hour of severe temptation and saved me ftom ruin. Here is i the sufficient encouragement for every child , l of God. however humble and secluded his position. In defense of the virtuous senti' ment he is on the side of omnipotence and no finite mind can measure the extent or ! amount of this measure. A I To hunger no mor?- and to thirst no more is but to have our ever-returning need perpetually satisfied, and from tho overflow of j our biessedm-ss to beeome wells of the water 01" life to other soul.-:.? Lucy Larcom. vicuna r-ooci isxposruon. An exposition is to be opened in Vienna Austria, about the end of April, devoted to exliibits in connection with food, army and navy supplies, and transport, together with a special exhibit in connection with sport. It will be held in the Prater grounds, and ia ; the Rotunda, which was built for the Inter* national Exposition. A Lively Spring Trade." i With regard to prospects for the drygoods trade this spring, the Dry Goods Economist reports the trade very generally anticipates "a trade very nearly up to the average.^ _ - - \