The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, June 05, 1895, Image 6
MUSIC.
Oh, take the lute this brooding hour for
me?
The golden lute, the hollow crying lute?
me even with thine eyes; be mute,
And touch the strings; yea, touch them tenderly;
Touch them and dream, till all thine heart
in theo
Grow great and passionate and sad and
wild. '
Then on mo too as on thine heart, O child,
The marvelous light, the stress divine shall !
be, 1
And I shall see, as with enchanted eyes,
The unveiled vision of this world flame by, J
Battles and griefs, and storms and phan- '
tasies,
The gleammg joy, the ever-seething fire,
The hero's triumph, ana tne martyrs cry,
The pain, the madness, the unsearched desire.
?A. Lampmctn, in the Century.
The Lesson of the Strike,
BY FLAVEL SCOTT MINES.
Over one hundred men were crowded j
into the little assembly rooms at Maw- |
haka. The air was redolent with the
fumes of tobacco that came from numerous
pipes, and the hot close room was
filled with the smoke. At one end was
ft platform, upon which stood a dozen
chairs and a table, and a score of hard
benches scattered about completed the
furniture of the room, unless the tiny
broken stove in one corner be included.
The company assembled there was one ^
of men?sturdy fellows, who puffed dog- s
gedly at their black pipes, as though '
they held some grievance against them. c
The men of the great iron-mill at Maw- 6
haka were dissatisfied. Trouble had '
been brewing for some time between *
John Parsons, the young mill-owner, and ?
the operatives, and the friction increased 1
daily. The original cause of the trouble 1
had been forgotten, but trivial things oc- *
curring from time to time had served to ?
keep the men inflamed, and they threat- 1
?ned to burst into open rebellion. Mat- 1
ters would have been brought to a focus *
before, but the men were not properly ?
organized, or rather they had no leader 1
among themselves. On this night dis- 8
trict managers from neighboring towns s
wert to address the men, and bring y
them to some sort of order; they were 6
ripe for revolt. c
Half a dozen men ascended the plat- *
form and took seats, while the others
stretched out on the benches. The hum ^
oq fnppmftn rif thft ?
VI Wiueo OUV9&UVM Mw ?uw av-awwwM v. ?
mill arose and walked forward, and I
when there was a momentary lull, he 8
rapped fiercely on the table with a 1
stick. "The
meeting will please come to 8
order." ? I
Parliamentary rule, like death, is de- *
Void of respect, and consequently all 8
classes are ruled by it. As the foreman }
spoke the noise subsided, and the silence c
was broken only by the shuffle of heavy ?
feet. j
'A chairman must be appointed for (
the meeting," said the foreman.
"I move that Mr. Peters be elected '
chairman," said the red-faced man on r
the platform. (
"I second it!" "Aye!" "Aye!"came 1
.from all parts of the room. r
Mr. Peters, the foreman, colored and a
bowed. "Before I take the chair," he a
said, "I wish to say a few words. You I
know I'm with yer every time [cheers *
and applause], but I've been requested *
by the boss [a low hiss] to say a few c
words to you for him. 'Peters,', he says, 8
says he, 41 hear there's goin' to be a 3
meetin'to-night. Now,' he says, 4I want
the men to come to an understandin'. I J1
don't want no more of this foolishness? ^
this growlln' that's been goin' on for some
months past. Tell 'em to make up their *
minds one wav or 'nother. ter Quit
growlin' an' go to work, or else they can n
quit work. There's no half-way busi- b
ness. I'm dead tired of it,' says he, 'an' k
I want you to tell 'em so.' New, I've F
x told you, and it rests with you. You 11
know how .1 feel, an' I'll foller ther t
crowd. Gentlemen, Fll introduce to t
you Mr. Murphy,who won the lock-out in o
Coverton a few weeks ago." a
The chairman sat down, and the t
man who had b.efoie spoken rose to his t
feet, and came forward rubbing his face f
with a red bandanna. .The cheers that
greeted him told the feelings of the '
men, lor Mr. Murphy was well known as o
a general "kicker" against any sort of 3
authority.
f
At the moment of Mr. Murphy's in- <
troductioa John Parsons and two inti- *
mate friends were laughing and srnok- ?
ing over their postprandial coffee. E
Parsons was a young man of about thirty j1
years of age, with a strongly marked, 1
-I r J ~ ik!? Xi T
UiUULl-siJttvtJU itttc auu a iuiu, uiui uiuuwu. i j
Of independent manner and over-bearing *
to his subordinates, he was much disliked 1
by a number of people; but those who c
were counted as his intimate friends 11
loved him and believed in him, and j i
beyond them the-young man did not care i t
what people thought of him. At his j
father's death he has come into posses- ' 3
sion of the mill, and for three years had *
managed it successfully. A bachelor at
the time, he was shortly to be married ?
CD a girl of his native town. Fond J
hopes of moneyed alliances were!1
blighted when this highly eligible parti ;
announced his engagement, and many a j
mcther wondered what he saw in Rose ' 1
Auderson. She bad no money, it was .1
true; but John Parsons was not mercen-11
ary, and the long line of ancestry on j
the girl's part would have been f&r more j1
attractive to mm tGan weaitn untoia. n ; ?
was simply a love-match, and all indi- i
cations pointed to a happy marriage. .(
Parsons traced his lineage back to the
days of feudalism, and he gloried in it.
He was a curious combination of aris- 1
tocracy and democracy, and the senti- '
meut of "family'' predominated. Strange |(
ideas for a nineteenth-century American 1 >
to hold, but they were a part of his life. 1
"I hear that you have had some ;
trouble at the mill," remarked Wake-, s
nnf? of his coumanions. who3e !
prosperous mill did not compare in j'
size with that of his friend. "Any i
truth in it?" :
Parsons frown?d. "Yes," he said, <
shortly; "but it cannot last. It bus to l
stop, or the mill is closed.
'Can you afford to doso?" asked Tom
Poster, a young lawyer, who made up i
the trio. ! i
"I will afford it," was the answer. 11
"Have you heard from any of the labor
men on the subject?" volunteered
Wakeman.
The young owner's fist came down on
the table with a crash. "No, sir; I do !
my business with my employes through
no third person. That chuckle-headed ,
Irishman Murphy is to address a meeting |
that is to be held to-night, and I have !
sent the men an ultimatum?to shut up
or stop work. I will not be dictated to
by any third party; it's an outrage that
that mill-owners stand it."
"But have the men no rights?" questioned
Wakeman, who was notoriously
weak in his management.
"I do not discuss their rights," rejoined
Parsons. "The question is simply
this, will they work as I wish, or will
they not? They get their money regularly
; they arc paid for the time they work;
if they are dissatisfied, let them get out,
md'givejothers a chance to fill their places.
[ know you will laugh at me, but I tell
pou that when the land was owned by
the aristocracy and ruled by them, when
class distinctions existed, man was happier
than he is to-day. It is very beautiful
in theory, but independence is a poor
practice for everybody."
"Quite a sermon." muttered Foster,
lighting a cigar.
Parsons laughed. "I do not mean to
preach, but once started, I am carried
iway withr the subject. I have often
tvondered where my ideas came from,
ror my father was a democrat in the pure
ose of the word. I think that the spirit
>f som&old feudal ancestor is reincarm+n
vi mo far T havft a pertain sense of
(uperiority that I have no right to by my
>wn merits. I don't mean the reincarlation
of tho Buddhists?I wouldn't rerain
from kicking a miserable yellow
log because it might contain the soul
>f my mild old nurse, I'd refrain simply
>ut of consideration for the dog?but
vhat I do mean is the reincarnation of
mcestral spirit which may have been
atent for generations; hereditary, in
>ther words. Let me illustrate by a
tory. Last year while in England I
ooked up the branch of our hou3e
vhich remained there while an ancestor
if mine emigrated about 1700. I did
lot make myself known. The family
lame is the same, but the Euglish
>ranch holds a title, .and everybody does
lot know what the family name is. The
mmediate family was in London, and I
vas shown through by an old housekeeper.
My pulses thrilled as I trod the
>ld ancestral balls, and I almost bewailed
ny fate at having a younger brother for
in ancestor.' I tapped the armor with a
;ense of pride, and listened to the old
voman's stories with a feeling of peronal
admiration, for the men she spoke
>f were as much mine as the noble
ord who lingered in Mayfair.
iVhen we reached the portrait galery,
I lingered before each face with
trange sensations, but there was one
)icture that suddenly attracted me, and
is soon as I saw it I seemed to remember
he original. The picture was that of a
jeautiful girl ot aoouc eignxeea yvam ui
ige, and she seemed a queen by the very
rose of her head. I was bo entranced
hat my guide noticed it, and began this
itory?I give it in her own words: She
vas the daughter of old Sir Francis, who
lied about 1740. He was a fierce, headstrong
man, holding his people in subection,
and feared by all. His only
laughter inherited some of the old man's
itrengtb, but she was kind as she was
)eautiful, and an angel of goodness to
ill her inferiors and greatly loved. One
ivening in summer, however, while
valking unattended through the park, a
ough soldier addressed her. She turned
way, but the man caught her in his
xms and tried to kiss her. At this
>oint I interrupted the narrator, and said
hat I knew the story. I looked at the
ace again and knew the rest. Her
ousin, who was passsing, heard the
creams and hastened to her defence,
tabbed the man and left him lying dead.
La, sir,' said the. housekeeper, as ^1
inished, 'that's right; ye must have
ieard the tale.' "
"Had you?" inquired Foster, in
"No," replied Parsons,slowly; "I had
ever heard the circumstances narrated
before, but the first words of tht house:eeper
called up the scene as iu a
(icture. It seemed as though I had heard
he scream, and bursting through the
tushes had seen the girl struggling in
he man's grasp. It was like a memory
f a long-ago happening in which I was
n actor. Then I saw the girl turn to
ler rescuer with a smile; the man before
ler inspired her with no sense of pity,
or he had attempted to be her eaual."
"Ah! I see," laughed Wafceman;
'and you feel as she did; you are probibly
the reincarnation of the cousin. Did
'ou marry her?"
For a moment the young man's eyes
frew angry, and then he answered,
luietly enough: "I asked the houseceeper,
and sfte said that he did. The.
jirl was the old man's only daughter,
md the young man was his heir, so they
vere both ancestors of mine. I attempt
10 explanations of my part of it, but tell
rou the story as it happened. I do, howiver,
know how the girl felt, and to-day
; hold myself as far above the lower
classes as did the old knight in his own
ime. Have I not aright? Perhaps not
n these later days, but I cannot destroy
he feeling."
A servant entered at that moment. "If
rou please, sir, Mr. Peters would like to
see you."
"Tell Peters to come in. My foreman
it the mill," he exclaimed to his friends.
The man walked sheepishly into the
'ichly furnished room.
"Well?" queried Varson3.
"The man are going to strike at noon
;o-morrow, sir, unless these conditions
"* - *? -i r? a. L.I J a ?
ire agreed to," ana reters ueiu uui a
japer.
The young mill owner took the document,
deliberately tore it in half, and
;hrew the pieces to one side.
14At noon to-morrow?" he asked
juietly.
4'Yes, sir."
"You may tell the men, Peters, that
;hey may declare their strike on now if
they desire, as the mill will remain
jlosed untii further orders. Goodaight."
!
The young owner kept his word. For
lis months the forges of the great mill
!ay silent, and the furnace tires unlit.
The men lingered about hoping for satisfaction,
but to each query, John Parsons
replied, 4'I am ray own manager; I will
spen the mill whea I please, and not before."
Winter was near at hand qnd the men
were suffering. The district tried to
organize a general strike with no success,
and the spirits of the sufferers fell
accordingly.
"Will you ever open up again, sir?"
timidly asked Peters one day.
"When I get ready," was the answer
of the owner; "and when I do, no union
man will come inside the door; the work- 1
ers will be under contract to me. But
why do you ask? The meu are free to
go *here they please; thoy needn't wait
on my pleasure, poes the union no
support them?"
"They have no funds, sir," Peter
said, sadly, turning away. ]
And when the men heard this thej
cursed the you - j mill-owner with all the
| bitterness of hate, but when a young man
suggested force, and hinted at something
else, there w&s a deep sullen growl?but
it was not favorable to the proposal, >
There were little ones that wanted food <
and raiment; there were wives thai 1
worked through all the lull in the storm,
while the men stood idle and their unioD 1
failed them for lack of funds. <
One evening after dinner Parsons ?
strolled through the village on his waj 1
to visit his fiancee. He hud come to the i
conclusion that he had nearly won the ?
fight, but the surrender of the strikers 1
must be unconditional before he accepted
it. The fault was not his; he had given
warning. Two of his old workers passed
him by, and though they looked at him j
appealingly, he did not appear to see j
them. There was a circus in town, ana ?
the streets were filled with wagons and j
people from the country, mixed with t
that crowd that follows in the wake of a t
circus. Parsons strolled by the great E
tent, where the venders of pea-nuts and t
pop-corn were shouting their ware, and t
then walked on to the house whither he t
was bound. Miss Anderson was cot at f
home. (
"She went out directly after dinner,"
said her mother, "and promised to return
at once. She was bound on an errand
of charity, and will surely be back i
before the darkness." x
John Parsons sat on the piazza and (
smoked his cigar slowly. He was at (
peace with himself, and in a very good s
humor with a certain person in whom he (
believed implicitly. Facts were nothing (
to him if he did not choose to be con- (
vinced by them,but he could bring him- \
self into a belief in anything that pleased y
him. He was thinking that the lesson ?
of the strike would be a good one for (
his men and also for other mill owners. ?
He did not notice that the minutes \
slipped swiftly by, and that Miss Ander- f
son did not return. Suddenly he real- t
fhot it. VinH nrrocen miita dark. and. ,
-- -? & , , ,
looking at liis watch, saw that nearly an
hour had elapsed Since his arrival. He
hurried into the house.
"I think that she was going to Barton
street," said the old lady. "She surely
ought to have returned.", 1
John started. He recalled the crowd- 1
ed streets, the rough crowds, and his ]
heart sank. He was madly in love with \
her, but the realization of the fact came ]
at that moment. It was quite dark, and '
a horrible chapter of possible happen- 1
ings flashed through his brain. He '
thought of the gaunt, hollow-eyed men 1
he had refused that day to see, and the 1
idea of revenge suggested itself. As he <
reached the gate three figures approached 1
and stopped. 1
4'Good night," he heard the voice of 1
Miss Anderson say. "I am much '
obliged." And as two forms disap- 1
peered, the girl walked into her lover'e <
arms. 1
i l 1KT W n n*n.n fliAOO man!" }l O (lcVoH
TT UU WCIO tUUOV UiWUt ajv
quickly.
"Friends, John," she answered. "I
was coming home, being detained longer
than I thought, and was passing by the
headquarters of your strikers?your (
strikers," she said softly, "when two <
men came forward?"
"Scoundrels!" cried John Parsons, J
fiercely, catching the girl's hands in a 1
tight grasp. <
"No, John, no," she replied, vehe- '
mently. "One of them came up and *
took off his hat. 'Excuse me, miss,' |
he said, 'but there's a pretty tough crowd ^
in the village to-night, an' Jim and me 1
thought we'd better say as we'd see you '
home;' and they did. They acted as ]
gentlemen?true gentlemen?never say- ]
ing a word until spoken to; and they \
came all the way home with me through
that horrible crowd. They were so good 1
and kind, and wanted to knock a man 1
down who stared at me." <
"Did they mention me?" the young 1
-a j
man asKeu.
"They said they knew I was the 'lady
as Mr. Parsons was to marry.'"
In one brief moment all that he had
ever said against the working-man came
into John Parsons's mind, and in that
time he thought of the old baron and the
men he called his inferiors. Liberty
was equality in one way, after all.
The next morning the whistles of John
Parsons's iron mill blew lustily at seven
o'clock, and when he arrived there half
an hour later, he found all the men assembled
in the court yard wondering
what was to come.
The young man mounted a bos.
"Men," he said, "we have probably
both been in the wrong. I, at least,
have, and I will confess it. The anvils
await you, and the forges are lit. Go
to work. Let the past be forgotten.
We will begin all over again and work
together. To-day is Wednesday; on
Saturday you will receive one week's
pay in full. I know that money is
scarce, and I want to thank you for hav- g
ing acted as?men." (
And-the cheers that arose from these (
VtAM/vnf fkvAnfa ?**n*n Vinai>ha?* tV?nn fKr\Qfl
UUUUdb I/UIUQUO YYCIO UWU1 Vlbl vuuu vuvswv
that greeted^ Mr. Murphy six: months
ago.
"I guess the ghost of my old ancestor
is laid effectually now," laughed Par- ,
sons to himself. "He couldn't appreciate
the era of chivalry and free labor." 8
?Harper's Weekly.
? 1
The Largest Telescopes.
The largest twelve refracting tele3Cope9
are those of the Lick Observatory, with
an aperture of thirty-six inches; Yale
University, twenty-eight; United States
Naval, twenty-six; LeanderMcCormack,
twenty-six; Princeton, twenty-three;
Denver, twenty; Smithsonian, twenty;
Dearborn, 18.5; Carleton College. 16.2;
Warner, sixteen; Washburn, 15.5; and j
Harvard, fifteen. The largest reflecting ,
fnlA^nAnna oro /\f TTurvor/3 nnlliinra
icicouupoo UIU VU>/WV V* AAMi VV4ftW^Wf ?
twenty-eight inches, and the Rev. Dr. j
John Peate, twenty-two. Dr. Peate, (
who is an amateur maker, is now finish- j
ing a thirty-and-one-half inch silver-on- r
glass mirror, which will be presented to f
the Allegheny College at Meadville.
When mounted it will be the largest reflecting
telescope in this country. There
are numerous reflectors made by Brashear
from nine to twelve inches in diameter.
The Clarks are now grinding an object j
glass of forty inches for a telescope to
be mounted in an observatory yet to be \
built upon Mount Wilson, in Southern J
California. Though the Lick Observatory 1
possesses the largest telescope at present, J
Harvard College has the best equipped
observatory for general astronomical
work in America, and one of the best in
the world.?New Orleans Timet-Democrat.
WOMAN'S WORLD.
PLEASANT LITERATURE FOR
FEMININE READERS.
BLUE JEAN FOIt HOME USE.
Blue iean is becoming a most popular
material for many home uses. It sheds
iust easily and can be washed without
:hanging color, and for thesfc reasons it
s liked for table covers, seats for par;ially
worn out chairs, crumb cloths rnd
:loset portieres. It should be worked in
ibold, conventional pattern, with rope
inen of coarse embroidery silk, and it
nakes a splendid cover for an invalid's
10fa pillow, worked with white rope
inen.?New YorkPrets.
THE BIO HAT MUST GO.
Paris has declared war on the big hat
it public performances. French papers
ire ridiculing it with merciless satire,
ind prominent critics hare gone so far
is to refuse to attend performances where
;he big hat is allowed. It is thought
hat the beginning of the end is come,
ind that soon amusement goers all ever
,he world will be delivered from the
yranny of the constructive mountain of
nillinery, for, of course, Paris sets the
ashion for the rest of the world.?New
Orleans Picayune.
FOR HOUSE WEAR.
For house wear a very handsome dres3
s made of the princesse shape?and it
nay be mentioned en passant that all
Iresses are being made on this pattern?
irossed and draped,of iron gray swansicin
ilk. The corsage closed in bias over a
louble ruche, which is stopped by a bow
m the skirt. The right side of the
:crsage is draped at the shoulder with
;hree pleats, which are held together
irith a bow. A ruched collarette. Tne
ikirt is ornamented with two rows of
embroidery, separated with small ruches,
i double ruche ornamenting the bottom,
rhe sleeves in bias,rather high shouldered
ind gathered, being narrow at the bot rim
nnrl trimmed at the wrist with two
rows of embroaery and ruches.?New
York Herald.
THE SCOOP BONITET.
The sccop bonnet is a favorite because
it is generally beaming and is so shaped
;hat while being a bonaec it has the
fouthlul appearance of a round hat. The
iistinctive feature of the scoop bonnet
is that it h&s no brim at all, and that it
lies perfectly 3at upjn the front of the
hsad, just ov6r the forehead. This gives
i very nice chance for a bscoraing face
trimming. Women with small, regular
featu.-es find the 3coop bonnet very besoming
if trimmed with a standing bow,
which is placed on the front of the boartof
in fVi? mnat nnricrht. aorcrflMlVe man
UWV AM ?"W ?V? -Jf-o 7 -OO
aer po3sibit. Around the edge of the
sonnet thjre must be a heavy ruching of
iome kind 'A velvet, and at the back anther
upright bow. This makes a very
pretty hat, and one which will probably
59 fashionable all winter.?New York
World.
A WOMAN AS TRAIN DESPATCHES.
It is said that the office of train
iespatcher on the New London Northern
Railroad is held by Miss Lizzie E. D.
Thayer. As this is a single-track road,
aer position is one of great responsibility,
since she controls the movements
>f all trains from one end of the line to
:he other. Miss Thayer was for some
lime assistant to the former train dejpatcher,
and upon his resignation, pending
the appointment of his _ successor,
>he proved herself so thoroughly capable
jf doing the work of the place tnat the
position was conferred upon her. She
is at Ler office from seven in the morning
until six at night, superintending the
181 miles of track under h^r care. She
ias a man assistant, but the responai-lilitv
is all hers. During her two years
? w
)f service there has been no accident for
which she is to blame.? New York Wiliest.
THE SILK SKIRT.
What seems an extravagance to many
women is the silk skirt which a good
Iress-maker always insists a wool gown
ihall be made ever. Yet even to the
:conomist there are several points in its
ravor. One silk lining often serves durng
the reign of two gowns, the toot
uffle, perhaps, being replaced. It is
ighter than cambric and has besides a
:ertain buoyancy, which adds to its want
)f weight. Its slippery surface prevents
;he wool clinging and does away with
;he disagreeable swathed sensation which
wool gowns on cambric lining3 are sure
:o evolve. One may even economize a
iftle in the amount of cvermaterial when
;ne silk s?irt 13 used. It is beginning
;o be understood that there is a rationale
it the bottom of many s>-cailed extravagancies;
no woman for instance, nowaiays
who respects herself wears the atrocty
known as a sham skirt?and the
iilk underskirt is a conspicuous example
>f such well conditioned luxury.?
Chicago Nem.
LOVELY OLD SILK GOWN'S.
Speaking of economy reminds me of
he lovely old silk gowns that everyjody's
mother or grandmother is pretty
mre to possess. How often have I
jazjd upon those quaintly cut remnants
>f past glories and thought what a deicious
frock this would make if only the
vidths were straight. Now is your
ime, clever girls. Gored skirts are
* - ?? -? ? ? f kn /\1 fl fnf k
Yltn us tigaiu, su xepuu lu iruu uiu-ioouoned
camphor chest that nearly every
veil regulated household possesses, and,
rith a little head work, a neat hand and
i few accessories you can turn yourself
>ut a dinner gown or an afternoon dress
hat will piease yourself and everyone
vho is fortunate enough to see it on you.
; speak, not blandly, but from expe ience,
for I have just finished making
>ver a simply lovely old lilac silk poplin.
; am very proud of it, for "with my
>wn hands i have done this thing," and
[ don't believe "Mme. Adelina" or
nadame anybody else could have made
i more successful thing of it.?St. Louis
Republic.
X.M'L.lU.UAUUCi UVVVOi
My business here is to sell things,"
remarked a middle-aged salesman to his
friend, as he made a memorandum of a
;ash sale in bis book; "and, of course,
I expect to sell whatever goods people
isk for, if I have them in stock. But I
do wish they wouldn't come hero and
buy Canton flannel for curtains and draperies.
There is nothing that I sell
that makes me so uncomfortable as this.
I have had some frightful experiences
with these goods, which I suppose have
made me unusually nervous about them.
There is nothing In the whole range ol
dry-goods so inflammable as the fin<
grades of Canton flannel. I have had
the house set on fire repeatedly because
some one lighted a lamp in the vicinitj
of a Canton flannel drapery. I ufed tc
be very fond of this sort of goods, bul
there is nothing that would induce me tc
put a yard of it in my house. If yoi
want to understand the occasion of mj
fears, just take a bit of the stufi anc
hold it near the flame of a lamp. The
blaze will travel over it faster than J
prairie fire. I have sometimes thought
that I would positively refuse to sell thf
goods, but people want them; and ]
suppose no one would thank me for ad
vice on the subject."?New York Ledger
EARNINGS OP LITERARY WOMAN.
Women are more favored in literary
work at present than are men. For ex
ample, Mrs. Burnett has a larger incomi
from royalties than is received by anj
man. Mrs. Humphrey Ward will mak<
a small fortune out of her "David.'
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps commands th(
Highest prices ior an tne magazines
Mrs. Margaret Deland sets her own fig
ures. Sarah Orne Jewett receives aj
much for a short story as does the mos
successful male author. Auna Katharin*
Green sustains a comfortable home solelj
from the proceeds of her pen. Elli
Wheeler Wilcox sells everything she
writes. Amelie Rives writes little, bm
what she does write and sell brings he:
the best prices. Maria Parloa lives or
the income of her pea. Mary J. Holme
receives a larger yearly check from hoi
publishers than dees many a bank presi
dent. Amelia E. Barr is kept busy sup
plying stories and articles at flattering
figures. "The Duchess" makes severa
thousands of dollars each year with he:
pen, while "Mrs. Alexander" does thi
same. "Octave Thanet" has more thai
she can do at the most remunerative rate
of payment, and one might go througl
an almost endless list of women, such o
Julia Magruder, Elizabeth B. Custer
Frances Courtenay Baylor, Harriet Pres
cott Spofford, Miss McCelland, Mollii
Elliott Seawell, Louis3 Chandler Moul
ton, Ellen Olney Kirk, Grace King andi
score of two of others.?Chicago Port.
FASHION NOTES.
Feather trimmings and boas are styl
ish.
A feather ruching is used for th
neck.
A few embroidered dress patterns ar
shown.
A rare jewel on a slender chain please;
fastidious tastes.
Flannelettc-s will be much used fo
drapery this winter.
Swivel handles of buckthorn are madi
for ladies' umbrellas.
Brown will be the standard color ii
dre3s goods for winter.
Ornate vases of Berlin ware acre amonj
the new importations.
Oxford ties of black ooze calf are suit
able for ail house gowns.
Rough fancy clothes are fashionabli
for long cloaks and mantles.
Safety matches lie concealed in a min
iature little wood basket of silver.
Sleeves are still made high on thi
shoulders, and are made very full abou
the top.
Beads and metal fringe from four an<
o Violf tn oicrht-oon inr?hAs in dflnth ftr
<* """ ? ~*a- ? ?r
used as trimmings.
The elongated basque bodice or coa
is now modified to meet the require
ments of short women.
All kinds of odd silk and vslve
sleeves are allowable with wool gowns
the most common, however, being th
leg-of-mutton.
Here is one of the axioms on whicl
the art of good dressing is founded
Fashion must be followed, but at a be
coming and discreet distance.
Very handsome dresses for tbo seassi
are made of black drap d'ete or Bedfori
cord, garniturned with bands of rea
black ostrich feathers, often with an ad
ditional decoration of rich black sill
passementerie above the feather band 01
the skirt, on the panel showing at thi
left side of the gown, and on the bodici
and sleeves.
A new variety of hat is called thi
Brighton; that with a cleft crown beinj
so styled. Ia place of the fancy open
work straw of which the model was firs
made, the Brighton is now produced ir
a soft hairy felt, like pressed camel'i
hair. The most popular are of fawi
color, with a nondescript pattern, shau
ing to brown, and the hat is trimme<
with a simple brown silk cord or browi
velvet.
Blue English serge costumes, witl
coat and dark blue felt hat to match,wil
be fashionable during the entire season
Tweeds in brown and blue mixtures an
also popular. Golden brown crossed
with red forms another pretty combination.
These tweeds are of various quail
ties, but a special sort is that woven bj
the fishermen in the Orkney Islands dur
ing the winter when they are unable t(
carry on their .ordinary vocation.
The perfection of American silks am
tapestries now brings within the reach o
the moderate purse the new satin damasl
hangings in colonial or Louis XV
patterns. They are liued with silk anc
draped now in irregular festoons, falling
to the floor only on one side th<? opening
Some of the portieres, called Derby, an
I reversible and require no lining, express
' : :?1 n?*fa??nc rvn hrvfVi oino
lUg- lliu UUIULIKU patWCi uo VU wv?M wimv
alike. They are looped or draped wit!
heavy corda.
A simple bodice that you want tc
freshen up for house wear will look quit
elaborate if it is turned in a little ac th<
neck to permit a full frill of chiffon tc
fall over it and to extend down each
side of the closing so that the button
and buttonholes are entirely hidden anc
a soft, duffy effect is produced. Th<
prettiest chiffon is that which has a tin<
scallop for its edge and a tleur de 11
I crescent, or uuy uui ciuuiuiuuw
I above it.
Exhibited among new cloakings an
cloths as soft and flexible as velvet, whicl
show a shaggy nap both outside and w
side. Some of the fancy cloths have i
rough reverse side like camel's hair.
These require no iiniug. Some of th<
patterns have blocks and stripes o
canvas-checked and netted meshes.
Among the lining stuffs are those of woo
sateeu, with a smooth satin facing
These keep their color perfectly, ant
outwear all other linings of silk or satin.
It i9 estimated that there are now 16,
750,00!) sheep in the colony of Nev
Zealand, as against 16,110,00 a yea
ago.
' v
- rl
THE SADDLE
ITS INVENTION, AND CHANGES eij
IT HAS UNDERGONE. ea
Magnificent Coverings by Roman
Cavalry?From Cloth to Leather
?The Indian Howdahs? A
Great Industry. tei
T1
iu
Originally the rider rode his horse bareback,
but in the course of time various
coverings, made of leather, were brought
m : V.??? Ve
JUtU UfcC. iliC UUVCHU^o cvcutuauji uuujj ^
' down on both sides of the horse, were of cg
very costly material, and were beautifully
adorned. Apuleius called these
coverings fucata ephippia, and Yirgil, on
J several occasions, makes mention of their P
expensive character. ^
3 The Roman cavalry used extensive
J coverings on their horses, which the old
3 Germans considered effeminate, and they *u
' dispised them for it. In the time of
3 Alexander Severus, the horses of the Ro- m
man cavalry wore magnificent coverings ]
Before the time of Nero the cavalrymei
3 were obliged to present their horses with to
t ont covering during the review, that it to
3 might be more easily seen whether thej at
r were in good condition. Nero, how- oc
* ever, abolished the wise regulation on th
review. He had a -?akness for display,
t and wanted the cavalry to present a th
r grand appearance on such occasions. qS
i Even after the introduction of these ta
3 coverings it was considered more grace- th
r ful and manly to ride without them, pj
* Varro boasts of having ridden, when a
young man, without a covering to his
> horse.
I The evolutions from cloth coverings to
r the saddle were as gradual as they were ^
3 natural, finally bringing us to the saddle ^
i of lo-day, consisting of the wooden
9 frame known as the saddle-tree, the
i skirts or padded underflaps, the seat
8 (generally made of tanned pigskin), the rc
? girth or belly-band, the stirrup straps, ?
* the stirrups and the crupper loop. This *
b combination is the saddle proper, no
- matter how varied its shape, how near
? its approaeh to elegance on the one
band, or to awkwardness on the other.
It is supposed that the saddle was in- at
vented about the middle of the fourth tt
- century, but the fact, in the opinion of 1some,
has not been positively proven. 6'
e Zonaras, the historian, tells us that Con- tt
stantine, the younger, was killed in the
year 340, when he fell from his saddle, tl
e The word translated into saddle also
means, however, the back of the horse, 5
3 or the place where the rider sat. It is
true, nevertheless, that Sidonius P
r Appollinaris used a word that unmis- n
takably reiers to the saddle tree.
3 Nazarius, in hi9 panegyric on Conetantinc
the Great, in describing tire P
manner in which the enemy's cavalry P
were destroyed, says, <4the men, almost 11
lifeless, hung sedilibus." Some think n(
S that they couid have hung in chis man- jz
ner only by saddles; others, that they h
r could have clung to the coverings. The ft
latter, however, to warrant the in- w
> ference, must have been girded to the tr
horses, but the girth was not introduced ^
until alter tne invention or periection 01
the saddle. jn
In Montfaircon's engraving of the p]
3 pillar of Theodouius, the covering upon 01
' which the rider sits seems to have a pommel
in front of it and the extremity of a ^
3 saddle-tree in the rear. That the saddle
e was in use in 385 is substantiated by an ^
edict of that date issued by the Emperor
t Theodosius, forbidding riders of posti
horses to use fiddles of more that sixty
pounds in weight. The saddles of that ^
j day must have been ponderous affairs ^
compared with the light, yet strong and ^
3 compact saddles now in use.
In the fifth century saddles were mad? tj.
, so extravagantly magnificent that a pro_
hibition was issued by Leo I., in which
: it was ordered that no one should ornament
them with pearls or precious stones, jf1
In the sixth century the Emperor Mauri1
tius required that the saddles should V)
^ have large coverings of fur. The igno- a<
1 minious punishment of "bearing the Q'
- saddle" had its origin in the middle 81
i ages. **
1 Bedemann, the German author, alter "
2 considerable research, attributes the in1
vention of the saddle to the Persians. ^
Xenophon's testimony seems to warrant
a the inference, for he tells us that the 18
r Persians first began to render the seat of e(
the rider more easy and convenient by a
t gradual increase in the number of coveri
ings. He censures them by putting
j more coverings upon their horses than 88
x they did on their beds. A later author b!
- informs us that Persian horses were in te
1 great demand in his day because they la
i were trained to bear a saddle. w
The Indian howdah is a sort of car or oi
x pavilion, a saddle for elephants. It is a hi
[ handsome affair with gorgeous trap- fa
pings, and, though of various forms, i? hi
j usually covered overhead. The driver tl
[ is not seated in the howdah, which is gi
reserved for his master, but sits on the es
elephant's neck. tl
r England exports large quantities of H]
. saddlery, the most of which is made at te
) Walsall, in Staffordshire, or in the im- in
mediate neighborhood. The value of fc
, the export, including harness, exceeds fc
j $2,000,000 annually. ai
Tbe saddlery business of this country ki
is a great industry and our exports are a
j keeping pace with new avenues of trade, st
Millions of dollars are invested in the bi
' business, the general term of saddlery tt
including mauy articles besides the mere h<
2 saddle. During the Civil War some of w
the manufacturers became immensely w
wealthy. The village saddler manufac- hi
1 turcs verv few saddles nowadays; there at
is no profit ia it to him; lie either has T
} to buy them ready-made or put them to- at
e gether after purchasing the variou3 T
5 parts. The saddle has reached such a h<
' degree of perfection that there is very as
1 little left for inventive genius to suggest. n<
3 ?hitroit Free Press. o\
I b i
J *1
i The Old-Teetli Market. j'
5 An uptown dentist displays a peck or
c more of teeth, the product of many
aching jaws, in a glass case in front of
3 his establishment. A curious individual P<
i :i few days ago 3sked the doctor if the w
- teeth cutsidc were all drawn by him. D(
i Yes, and down in my cellar I have w
a Hour barrel full, of all sizes. We used
J to sell them to articulators of skeletons, d*
r and we got $1 a quart for them. They S(
had to buy more than a quart sometimes
I to yet even one tooth to suit, because a of
skeletou with a full set of teeth was r0
I worth at least $15 more than one not I '
having ali its teeth. But that trade is of
about lost to this country because they w
. cau set up a skeleton so much cheaper to
r iu France. There ought to be a heavy th
r tariff duty on skeletons.? Philadelphia' at
Record
I J
*
POPULAR SCIENCE |
Versailles, Mo., claims a vein of coal '
jhty feet thick, the thickest vein on jw
Recept experiments in Queensland v:;
,ve shown that mother-of-pearl shells
n be made to produce pearls artificaily. j K
The only purely platinum mineinexisace
has been discovered in Oregon.
lis mineral elsewhere occurs in con- .3
nction with other minerals.
The experiments made in England
ith a view to determine the value of 1
irtical signaling by means of the elecic
light have proved a complete sue* :
The asteroids now number 318. The
st seven were discovered between Au- -y.
ist 28 and September 11, four of them s
r Charloia at Nice, and three by Palisa
Vienna.
A mangrove plant has been success- ;;
lly grown in the University of Pennlvania.
Hitherto it has been found M
lpossible to grow this plant away from 'I
e ocean.
An instrument invented at Georgewn
(D. C.) College, known as the pho- V/
chronogtaph, is said to record with
>solute accuracy and precision the time :
:cupicd by a star in its transit across
e meridian.
Professor Virchow is the originator of
e cell-crowth theory of disease, which
is been characterized "the most impor- '
nt step in pathology" of the period, in ^
at it ha9 'Little less than revolutionized %
ithological study."
Slips for the broadside docking of
issela have been built at three of the :\<k
incipal ports of France. By this means
:ssels are to be hauled out of the water
ithout straining, and the cost is less
lan by the ordinary means of placing ia
dry dock.
There is a train on the Central Rail?
iad of New Jersey that runs but twice
year and is called the "stove train." */%
i the spring it collects all the stoves ,
ong the line and in the fall the train
ing puts them up again after they hare $Ji
sen repaired and renovated.
Humboldt estimated that Asia stands
; an average height of 1150 feet above $,
le level of the ocean; South America, . j
L30: North America. 750: Europe. / M
rO feet. The average height of ati 3
ie land above sea level?omitting Africa .
id Australia, which are mostly south of
ie equator?is about 820 feet.
a. .Norwegian rarraer nas devised a
urious lock, in which the bolt is released
y a stroke from a pendulum bob. The V-fej
endulum, invisible from the outside, is ' " yi
loved sufficiently by blowitg sharply 'M
iveral times through a hole in the door, ^
ut the puffs of air can be given at the
roper time only by swinging a key
endulum previously adjusted to vibrate
1 unison with the lock, oendulunu VThe
waste of a paper apd pulp mill,
jar "We3t Troy, N. Y., is being util.
ed as the basis of a new fuel, which U
id to be of much value. The waste as
comes from the mills is nearly pure
irbon, and by cleansing and chemical
eatment it is converted into a form
iat permits of nearly perfect combua
on. It is said to burn rapidly, with
tense heat and with little of the un- ^
easant features attendant upon the use
' bituminous coal.
Any one who has made* a trip to sea
is seen the ingenious propeller-shaped ;
jpliance which is thrown overboard at '. ?&
leend of a long cord, and by means of /J
hich the officers get an approximate
lea of their speed. This is not a new , 3$
lea, for in ancient times the Romans
id a similar appliance for ascertaining
leir rate of progress at sea. They
ragged little paddle wheels behind theii
lips, the revolutions of which enabled 'jl
lem to estimate the distance which the
lip had traveled.
A new electric light support has been
esigned especially for use around ;%>
enches in machine shops and under
irious conditions when a light that i*
ijustable to any desired position re- ' '3
aired. The extensible lamp-supportiag ' ^
m is hung by a ball-and-socket joint '*
om the ceiling and a set serew regu,tes
the friction on the ball at the upper ' i \'|
id of the first rod, to which is adjusta- /:(
ly attached a rod upon which the lampipporting
and current-conducting wire
secured. This device can be used
^ually well on wall brackets.
A Family of Giants. I
Fred S. Pond, Webster avenue, City, ?
lys :My father's grandfather's family con- . '*
sted of thirteen brothers and two sis- r'\
irs. The aggregate weight of all the
st time they met at the old homestead
as 3000 pounds. The average height /,
f each was a fraction over six feet. I t.
ive heard my father say he has seen his
,ther, who wa3 below the average of his
rothers in height, weight and muscle, : ;
irow in quick succession several fortyillon
casks of cider overan ox-cart with ' '$
Lse. and have also seen him lift one of .
ie same sized casks by the chimb3 to his
ps and drink therefrom. ' At one time
n of the brothers went to a barn-raisig.
They lifted the bend, thirty by Jujg,
>rty feet, with its sixteen-foot posts and
lurteen-inch square timbers, without-, *J
ly effort. Old New Englanders will
now what that meant. Ira Pond was
man noted for his great physical
rength. He could take any two of his
rothers, one in each hand, and handle
lem with ease. He once caught and '?^1
jld two live aeer. On one occasion, 'j
hen he was working about the barn,
hich was enclosed with a lence six feet
igh, a noted pugilist presented himself
id bantered the brother for a fight,
he brother said he was a church member
id it was against his principles to tight,
he pugilist then bantered Ira, who said
? did not want to fight for nothing, but
- he spoke he took tae pugiust uj me
ck and trousers and lifted him clear
rer the fence. The pugilist walked
ick to the barn, bowed to Ira and said:
[ have had enough of you.''?Chicago
ribune.
Potato Pea Wipers.
Several hotels in this city use a neatly
:eled aud cubed potato as a place in
hich to stick the pens, kept handily
;ar the register. A man from elsehere
got to talking with Clerk Roney,
the Colonnade, about the idea yester*
iy. "\Vhv use potatoes?" asked Mr.
jmcbody, of Elsewhere. "They clean
ie pens,', said Mr. Roney. "The acid
the 'murphy' neutralizes all the cording
principles of the writing fluid,
re figured that it will take 178 bushels
potatoes to supply a city hotel counter
ith these potato-pen-wipers. The potaes
have to be big one3, selected for
eir size, and as soon as one gets black
iother ha3 to be sent for."?Fhiladd'
iitf Prrn.
i