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mwzxy f| -A^LOVE jS2 'BY AMELIi CHAPTER IV. CONTINUED. "You might go on as your father did." "No. He had a surety?or, at least, he thought he had one. I know I hove nnn#>. Beside. I cannot marry Mies Janfarie in a character which may not be mine." "Is Miss Janfarie marrying the Sqnire of Mowbray or is she marrying Bichard Mowbray?" "That is a question by itself. She supposes that I am the owner of Mowbray. Her guardian, even in that position, objects to me. To ask for her band in any lower one is to subject myself to the rudeness of a very vulgar and ill-natured man." "What will you do then?" "I must see my brother. Though he wished to let his own right slip, he may now have sons and daughters, whose right9 he will feel bound to consider. I must see him, though I go to Texas to do so. Have you any more certain address?" "La Guadalupe and San Antonio are enough, I should think. I know none other." "Texas is a large State." "From what I saw of Thomas Mowbray, I should say it would take a very large State, indeed, to lose him ' in it." "Then I shall find him if he is ' alive. I must find him." "Yes. I am much of your mind. But go at once, and don't dilly-dally about it." "I will stay with you as long as you need me." , "I want no one with me. I have ! F lived alone. I will die alone, wnen k God 6ays, 'Abraham Hewett, come!' ^ I wish to be alone with God. My ' W dear lad, at the last hour no human ? creature can keep you company, j 'There is none then like unto Him!' H I have told thee all. The case ?s in B thy hands now. Do what is jyabAr Vila it." ~ J ' 'Can yofrfts^lne any further ad| vice in the ogitter?" "I should-say trust thy brother. I v . think thou may do so. I do, indeed! He had his father's great heart. His wild nature was in his blood, and came through his mother?'a very noble r. creature,' I heard thy father call her. Tee, Richard, I heard him whisper her name on his deathbed. She was < Squire Reginald's first love. * And , there is a deal of something everlasting in first love. You are a bit put out about it, I see?" "Yes, I am, Mr. Hewett. It is news I never expected." "I know that. But it will turn middling well, I dare say. It is near strike of day, Richard. I would get a-going if I was thee." "I will stavt for America at once, I think. Farewell, sir." "Farewell, Richard Mowbray. It will be many a long day ere we two meet again." "After all, I ought to stay with you, air." "I have told thee no. Once for all, I mean no." "Farewell, then!" "Fare thee well heartily. Be good and do good, and God be with thee j evermore!" CHAPTER V. GUADALUPE AND GALA WATER. All his words bristle! with passionate' threats.?Phiedus. 8ome men can more easily hold Are in their mouths than keep a secret. Whatever they hear gets abroad, and excites their world with sudden reports.?Petronias Arbiter. Mowbray left his friend's deathroom in a mood of mingled sorrow and stress of events. A great and sudden cloud had come over his hopes, and all the lover in him was angry at the false position which his father's blind trustfulness or carelessness had induced. He drove very rapidly to his home, and the beautiful park and fitatalv hnikliutr looked more desirable than they ever bad done before. Only yesterday his sole thought with regard to Mowbray had been how best to adorn and furnish it for his bride. All through his midnight journey he bad been planning new decorations; and now he could not even feel as if it was certainly his home. This unseen, unknown brother might yet covet and take possession of it. During the next two hours he fought a great battle with himself. For a little while the meaner man within him pleaded for his own way. He said: "What your father did, you may surely continue. To attempt to alter what he arranged is tantamount to accusing him. Your brother's right must have lapsed; he has been once fully paid for it, and as for yourself, you have alwoys been your faf^or'c hoir Vn r\na could blame you for keeping -what has been 8(>, long given to you.' Amid such pTeadings it was some time before the braver and nobler soul contending for the right could obtain a hearing. At last, however, Mowbray rose like ft man who has made a good decision. "I will go and see Katherine," he eaid. "I will tell her everything; it ?he will wait until I have found my brother and we have settled permanently the succession of Mowbray, I shall be all the happier for this proof of her love. But. whether or no, I must see Thomas Mowbray; I must find out whether I be really Squire Mowbray or only Richard Mowbray, the squire's brother." He spent the day in giving instructions to his steward; in providing himself with funds for his proposed search,- in securing an early passage, and in ordering his house for a few mouths' absence. There were papers :to destroy and papers to write, lor ne j ^believed it to be proper to leave beihind him the story of bis father's first 'marriage and the probable residence JWEK W | iALOYATER-I STORY. ?j h E. BARR.I ?2 XXT BONNXX'I 80N? .> , of the heirs from it in case of any accident to himself. When all duties were performed be left at once for Galashiels; but it was after midnight when he arrived. He had thought of nothing but Katherine on his journey, yet he could make no definite plan for an interview with her. Finally he resolved to go to Doctor Telfair. It might be that he could make a confidant of him. He was beginning to feel the weight of his disappointment and the uncertainty of his position very muoh. He craved sympathy; he wanted some person to say to him: "You are doing right." It was Friday morning, and the doctor was busy on his Sunday sermon, but he met Mowbray with unaffected pleasure, and listened with great interest to the young man's story. "I knew of the gypsy, Annot," he said, "but I never heard of the marriage nor yet of the child. Squire Reginald must have made her bis wife immediately after entering the classes at Edinburgh; for during his last year in oollege he was deeply in love with a woman whom I also loved?the daughter of one of our professors. HOW^t.^.. ciy trnilf Knlll'RP 1*B rtllitfl fileftr. ?'?l ?"l J"? ? 1 Yon cannot ask the laird of Levenshope for the hand of his ward, Miss Janfarie, until your right in Mowbray is absolute and undoubted. When do you leave for America?" "To-morrow afternoon, if I can speak with Miss Janfarie in time to catch the steamer. I expected to see Miss Telfair. I have been disappointed." "My daughter is at Levens-hope. She will return about eleven o'clock. Katherine will be sure to convey her part of the way home. Why not go md meet them?" "I will, sir." "You had better leave youjvTiorse here and take the He^nflditrtScPpleasantly to the suggestions and followed both. The opper road was very private; he would not be likely to meet any one on it, unless it was ^shepherd counting his flock or a little child going a message for its mammy. And from its elevation he could see the girls leave Levens-hope, and so arrange matters as to descend to their level at the most favorable point. All happened as well as he could bave desired. Just before reaching the stile by which Leavenswood was entered, the girb began to linger; then they stood still, and it was evident Katherine was hesitating about her return, and equally evident that Jessy was urffinc her to coback. for the mid day sun was very hot, and there was uo shade after the wood was passed, the road then being a bare path over the mountain breast. He forsaw that Jessy would gain her way, and that he might meet Katherine at the stile leading into the wood. So he hurried through the timber and across the patches of mossberries, and when he reached the stone wall which enclosed the plantation, he saw Katherine resting beneath it. She sat upon the grass, a large tree overshadowed her, and she was almost up to her chin in purple foxglove bells. He called her, and she stood up, eager, all attent. all radiant with smiles. The next moment his arm was around her and his face against her face, and they were laughing softly together. "I knew you were coming!" she whispered. "I felt sure you were near me. " For*a few moments their rapture had the perfection of all that is spontaneous. In them Mowbray forgot his anxiety and Katherine forgot her fears and her position. Then consideration oame and forced them to realize that they were yet bouDd by mortal conditions. "You must come "with me to the Saint's Well, my sweet Katherine," said Mowbray. "I have something important to tell you, and there it is not likely we shall be disturbed." So, still full of childlike happiness, they went hand in hand over the stile, and through the wood to the glen where the well dripped into its fernbordered basin. Here there was a natural seat formed by the rocks and carpeted with the fragrant pine needles; and there they sat down. "I have come to tell you a strange story, Katherine, one that may, perhaps, part us forever." SCVio amilerl a cnilPT TlPCrftlivP. ftlld moved closer to him. "Nothing but death can part us," she answered, "and death has no 'forever' for true love. Let me hear this story." He told her all; and as he proceeded he forgot to be very serious or anxious, for her face grew brighter and brighter and the pretty wrinkles she made were rather marks of depreciation than of worry or annoyance. It was not nearly so hard to tell her as he had thought it would be. She did not interrupt or exclaim, nor even try to give an air of romantic misery to the complication. Her sympathy and apntAt>A ClV> AWn 1T* WOVfl nillfo flQ I piurai " ci t Duunu iu ?wju \ju*w intelligible and far moie delightful. When he began his story he folt it incumbent to wear an air of uncertainty and distance?to presume nothing on the past or to take no advantage from it. He had withdrawn a little from her side, with his face slightly dropped tcward his folded hands. But as he proceeded, Katherine went close to him; she took one and tbeu both his hands in hers; she laid her he&d against his shoulder, and as he finished his confession she kissed mm. "You are doing quite right," she said. "And, pray, what does it matter whether you are Squire Mowbray or not? You are Richard Mowbray; that is enough for me." "I shall t?e comparatively? a poor man if my brother asserts his claim." "We have .enough anil to spare, 3 ? I Richard. We are rich. Is it any mat* I ter which of us has the money? If I was the minister's daughter, -without a penny of tocher, I am sure you would gladly marry me!" "God knows I would, most gladlyl" "Do you think, then, that I am less unselfish?" "Your guardian " "Will make trouble under any circumstances. He says that if I do not marry Mr. Wintoun by the eud of September he .will 6end me to school or make me a chancery ward, or do some other improbable or disagreeable tiling. I am not afraid of him; yet I must affect to acquiesce, or else face a sea of troubles and annoyances. Can you be back before that date?" "If I am alive, I will be back." "I shall then be within sixteen months of my emancipation. Is sixteen months too long a bridal trip in countries wnere ne cannot ionow ana interfere with us?" "Mj love! My love! How happy you make me!" "You understand, then? I will be your wife when you return. I do not care whether you are squire or master. I do not care for a splendid wedding. Jessy and I and you and the minister are enough. Mamma will give us her^ consentand her blessing, and the blessing or banning of Mr. Brathous will make no difference. Do your part, Richard, do it honorably, as you wish to do it, and whether it leaves you rich or poor, you will be just as welcome to me." "You dear, brave girl! I feared you would " "No, Richard, you did not fear I would fail you in the least. You know better. As for Mowbray, if it is your3, I shall be glad for your sake. If it is not, we will buy a lovely site and build up a far finer home. Be true to me, darling; that is all I ask." They lingered until mid-afternoon in the lonely wood, saying over and over tlie same fond words; giving again and again the same strong assurances. But at last Mowbrny knew that they must part. There were no te^rs and no lamentations; Katherine was cheerful to the last^?oment, and she sent hiua away^fth a Mart tuned to sweetest accopft with her otfQ: And all things najr seemed possible* "i^d all things^ndurable, for be felt BufS" that y'&atever he might lose, Katheriuj/'was his forever. She had heard feis story without one doubt; she had faced his poverty with her wealth, and where his humility had feared to ask for anything she had planned happiness for both. The journey across the Atlantic was a summer sail, a mere pleasure trip on the water. He had only one annoyance, the sense thai-, time was flying fast and he had so far to go and so much to do. Yet the spirit Katherine had inspired enabled him to enjoy the marvels of the new, great woild-whioh he saw and felt and wliich encompassed him round about. His insular conceptions of what was vast received a wondrous enlargement; for he felt that Europe had only shown him the world in miniature, but that in America he had the archetype of all his dreams of greatness. "I am not astonished Thom&s Mowbray gave up bis rights in the Old World for his franchise in the new one," bethought; and the further he traveled tha more confident be became of his own position as Squire of Mowbray. All the way down the Mississippi Valley.his ideas expanded, his mind enlarged; he searched his memory continually for new words to express hisemotion3. But when he breathed at last the wondrous air of Western Texas and tasted the freedom of its life, he had not a doubt or fear left. For his fear had become au indifference. "If Thomas does want Mowbray," he thought, "he can have the place and all that belongs to it. Katherine and Texas would be joy enough for one mortal. We will make our bridal trip here and choose Bome noble location, with wide horizons and lofty skies, and so build in paradise. Oh, how the Flower of Gala Water would bloom on the borders cf these honeysuckled creeks, pontooned over with lilies!" And the idea so enamored him that he almost hoped his brother would have a hankering for the gray, old house of Mowbray, with its homely air of Northern lands?would remember fondly the little river flashing past it in swirls of broken water full of good bull trout; and the rounded hills on which the plaided shepherds watched patiently their flock of wandering sheep. [to be continued.] W Wanted?A Cat. A firm which deals iu Angora cats recently received two applications for pets which read as follows: From an engine builder in Kansas City: "Specification for cat?Not too vicious, not too gentle, not too old, not too young; any color, except Spauish." And the following from a druggist in Grand Rapids: "It seems ridiculous to introduce another cat to the already overcrowded cat population of Grand Rapids, because in these warm summer evenings a stranger might readily inftr that the cats own the town. It is said that among the feline tribe we have an undue number of what are called moon cats. This special variety of cats, when the moon is shining bright, are addicted -to what doctors cali curvature of the spine. "They are called moon cats because it has been ascertained from reliable sources that their tails, during the process of spinal curvature, are pointed _ X. _ V *._ t iUA Til A in me mrecuuii 01 luciuiuiumj. electricity from tbe moon is attracted to tbe end of tbe tail ami runs along tbe course of tbat appendage to tbe spinal column. Fr6in tbis it travels to tbe cerebellum, which organ becomes surcharged and finally emits sound tbrougb tbe natural aperture. "I take it for granted that tbe Angora belongs to a distinct breed, d?. mestic in its habits, will not go out with the boys at night and return with mutilated features in the morning. We will await its presence with anxiety, will treat him well, and trust that his respectable surroundings in New York have so impressed him tbat be will never wander from his own fireside." ?New York Mail and Express. Afghanistan has a regulsr army of about 00,000 meu. , ROMANCE OF . COMM Who Will Get the In Harmony Seven aged and infirm people, clinging to life by an almost worn out thread, are all that Btand between one young man and a fortune estimated at four millions. John Dues is the fortunate mortal, and he bids fair soon to be the sole survivor and heir of a quaint communistic society which hae nestled in peace on the banks of the Ohio for nearly a century. Away back at the birth of the nineteenth century George Kapp, a youth of some education and originality ol thought, became so obnoxious to the Prussian government through his advocacy of communistic doctrines that he was forced to leave his native country. Determined to seek a land where he would be free to carry his ideas into practice, he chose to emigrate to America, where political and personal III L J 1- 1 ?J uuertjr eeeiucu tu xiitvc ocuuxcu ? uiuj foothold. Ho landed at New Orleans in 1802, and for several years seems to have explored the almost 'unbToken wilderness of the Mississippi Valley for a suitable site for'a settlement. He reached St. Louis, and from there turned his steps eastward. By this time he was followed by a band of intrepid spirits, attracted, by his enthusiasm. Finally Rapp located in Posey County, Indiana, and established a settlement alon<^ the lines of his communistic ideas. The settlement was named Harmony. Posey County proved unhealthy, and a few years later Rapp led his followers intoPenq/ sylvania. They first sottled in Bntljar County, .where a second "Harmony1 was founded. Then Rapp heard of/the fertile tracts and the beautiful site for a town overlooking the Ohio in Braver County, and the society moved /to the present town of Economy, Peon., in 1836. Here the society thrived. In . the course of years hundreds^f habitations rose, and to-day busy rfcills, overflow^ granaries and fertile fields are numbered yuong the possessions ol the society. - "One for all, and aYi^or one," was the motto of this little band o? wmmunists. On being admitted to the Harmony Society a new member wai obliged to cede all his money anc worldly possessions to the commun' JOHN S. DUSS. (President of tbe Harmony Society at Economy, Penn.) ity. Members received no compensation for their labors. Somo peculiar Jaws thero were. No member was permitted to marry, "Father" Rapp's theory being that every member should be able to add his share to the general endeavor. Thus there were no members born into the society, but ail recruits came by election. The members looked not to the future, but thought only to secure contentment and plenty in this world and | everlasting happiness in the next. A | tenet 01 me couiuiuim wu? uu> I "Father" Rapp died Christ was to make His second appearance on earth and take all mambers to His bosom. During "Father" Eapp's lifetime, and under his administration, tho society prospered wonderfully. Notwithstanding that a sufficiency was all that was aimed at the industry of the members bronght annually a large surplus, and - wealth accumulated. "Father"-Rapp made profitable investments of the society's furds. In the later days of Rapp's reign the society reached the height of its prosperity. After his death, however, disintegration began. By this time all the original members had far j passed the prime of life, and were j well content to abate a little of their efforts and enjoy more at ease the "IKS' S w- ? ** . HAY MAKING IS fruits of their earlier labors and the income from their wealth. In order that ' thero might bo enough to go round, admission of new members became rarer and rarer, and finally ceased altogether. The lands of the community were leased to tenants, while the aging brothers and sisters camo to pass their declining year? in peace and free from toil. j Now but seven remain, six aged * 4 FAMOUS " LUNIST COLONY. imense Fortune of tlVe Society? , J women and one bent man, an a they ; have little concern for the dissension and dissolution which threatens the ; community. They think /and talk chiefly of when they will /be laid to i rest in the "orchard," as tlfiey call the \ society burying ground, afcd of a joy i they expected to realize lo?g ago?that i of meeting their Lordf/ For days, weeks, years, they /have eagerly watched for the spcand coming of S<i1_ 4 ITT _ 1 J 1 rr. jurist. jae una uuinyea uiB coming to ns, but we shall s^on go to Him," the serene faced /sisters whisper to one another as thwalk out together 7 / j i 1 THE LABORATORY, OLD MILL AND "GR i on jpleasant days. The wrinkled man : rartely speaks to them more than to s?y, "Good day, sisters, God bless i /you," for men and -women in this an/'cient community have always dwelt i apart. j Now comes John Duss, the pres1 ent "patriarch" and prospective heir. Duss is virtually a child?the only . child?of the society. His mother took him to Economy with her in 1862, when-he was two years old. His father, who was then in the Federal army, died: of a wound received in the battle of Gettysburg. The mother | ^ ent to Economy to accept employ| ment as a nurse. She remained in the service of the society until early in 1876. I John was sent to the Soldiers' t Orphans' School, at Phillipsburg, in 11878, and remained there until 1876, | when he returned to his mother and , entered the service of the Harmony Society. The mother took him to Germany for a few months' visit. They returned to Economy, and in 1878 young Duss was given a position as a teacher or German in the Economy school. He remained there about a year, and then entered Mqunt Union College, but did not remain long. He received an offer to teach in the Kansas State Reform School, in Topeka, and as his limited means would not have permitted him to complete his college course, he accepted. John Duss was always enlarging his interests, however, and when ho saw a chance to buy a tine farm oi 160 acres in Webster County, Neb., for $1280, he took it, an<i devoted considerable time to agriculture. In 18SS Duss, who in the meantime had married, returned to Economy. He claims this was at the earnest solicitation of "Father" Henrici, who had succeeded "Father" Eapp as the head of the society. Duss took charge of the Economy public school. In 1890 he was admitted to membership in the society through the influence of "Father" Henrici. Then came his election to the Board of Trustees, and his wife was also admitted to the Society. At the instance of "Father" Henrici the Dusses took up thenabode in the "Great House." Although under the same roof, they lived apart, in accordance with the doctrine of the community. The election of Duss and his wife and the elevation of the former to power created dissension to the society. Several of the members withdrew, claiming that Duss exercised undue influence over "Father" Henrici. Thns' dissension, so long excluded, got a foothold, and now threatens to totnlly disrupt a community which would have soon been dissolved by death. On the death of "Father" Henrici, Duss was elected "patriarch," and yisssj -V JzJsdfcit ,/yy ^ i 1/ /S* i ?'/ \\:W'Sr.fr''// h '/ '> """ ',>''',//, //J/',?ss ?wW'/' .fi"/'^ ? s///'-' THE OLD DAYS. thus the youngest member of the society became its head. There has been practically no change in the town in the last sixty years so far as its buildings are concerned. The "Temple," which is thronged each Sunday by tenants of the society, is as simple and quaint as ever. The clock in its steeple, which is run by r. huge stone weight suspended from the belfry, has never ceased to tell the , I _ f / ; y*Jgi timfe of day.' The sawmills still clat'w; althongh the water power of the gmrly days has given way to steam. JThe factories where the silk looms ( used to rattle from morning to night * n tiro nilenf Thoofl Vmildinca am now filled with grain. Economy silks were famous a half century ago. Acres of mulberry trees had been planted, silk worms were imported, and this branch of the industry flourished for years. Then the worms began to die, and it was decided the climate was not favorable for them. The products of the society's lands and mills were much more than the community needed for its own use, and much was sold in Pittsburg and - neighboring towns. The receipts all went into the common fund, which in time grew to a great amount. When Christ did not come at the death of "Father" Rapp, disappointment was keen. Jacob Henrici, who was eleoted senior trustee and patri- i arch of the society, predicted that they would not have to wait much J. EAT HOUSE" OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY ' longer. He encouraged the members to more ascetic religions life and to J more diligent toil. Father Henrici in his early career was an excellent financier. Money ^ accumulated rapidly for the society under his management. In his later ! years, it was charged in the recent ^ suits, be had become just as careless ^ about finances as he had formerly ^ been careful. Much of the society money was inTested by Father Henrici in Pittsburg , and Lake Erie Bailroad stock. - Father Henrici was president of this road in its enrly history. He was later associated with W. K. Yanderbilt in ^ building the McKeesportand Yougho- , gheny Bailroad. He was also a di rector of the Lake Shore and Michi- , gan Southern. He invested money , 1 MRS. BUSS. E for the society in all these corpora- s tions. Up to the time he was eighty? 3 t_ 1- - J ?1 J seven years om ne preacueu, piaveu .he organ and led the choir in the "Temple" on Sundays. d A unique mausoleum marks the 1< resting place of Father Eapp, in the C "Great Garden," which is Economy's t park, in the centre of the town. In v this garden the Economy Society has c held its "harvest home festitals" for y the past half century. The "harvest n home," invuriably held after the grain crops have been garnered, is the thank offering to God for His beneficence. Each of these festivals in recent years has seen fewer and fewer of the aged members of the society in their accustomed places in the front benches, while the attendance of outsiders has increased each year. John Duss has welcomed the outsiders, and has introduced many innovations on these occasions. He has organized a baud among the society's tenants ana ouiit a gauuy band pavilion, too, in the "Great Garden." At the entrauce to the "Great Garden" stands the "Great House." Father Henrici spent his last days in the house. The "Great House"' has been a subject of controversy in the ' case before the courts. It is alleged that Dr. Cyrus Teed was introduced to the society and preached his doctrines in Economy, with a view to transferring his colony there and. making it a part of the Harmony Society. Duss, tho petitioners allege, "built a fine houso before Father Henrici's death for the accommoda- T tion of Teed and 6ome of his principal r] followers." This raised a rebellion g - - 3 lx_ J among tue iiannoniies ana resuneu ; c in the withdrawal of some of the mem- c< bers, "who received certain sums of j s) money at their departure." This dis- w satisfaction, it is said, caused the c abandonment of the Teed scheme. o So the Harmony Society, born in peace and good will, seems doomed to go to pieces in the courts, unless legal delays can postpone adjudica- t< tion some years, when there is apt to be left of those interested only?John p Duss. p The Language of the Turk. E The Turkish language is said by S( scholars to be the softest and most t( musical language of modern times, being better adapted to the purpose of musical notation and recitation tban ^ even the Italian. The Santiago "Ikimtdw Tr?.'ft j-Yy ' The insatiable Amerieta relic hnnter is already getting in lis fell work is ? Cuba, and a living monument of tho lamoaiflrn around Santiago is in immi ??? ? ^ - THE SURRENDER TREE. [Last. photograph of the famoas tree Br" A der which Toral surrendered twentv-t? . -t thousand Spanish troops andtheprflH ince of Santiago to General Shafts* showing the base of the trunk partly whittled away by ruthless relio geeker?.f aent danger of dying at the hands of Its friends. This is the famous tre? it the foot of San s nan hill unden rtbich General Toral surrendered. ;thA 3panish army to General Shatter. li has been named the ''SurrenderTree,'^ ; ind is the shrine toward which all^k Americans first direot their steps. Every visitor seems to become raudal when in its presence and th^Hfl trunk is rapidly being whittled aw^^H by souvenir seekers. It is urged that some action shoul<^H^ be takon at once by the authorities tbe historic tree is to be preserved. It is certain that in another season^H it will be destroyed piece-meal if th^^f present vandalism is not stopped. HH A Machine That Digests Food. In the modern manufacture o)^H paper whole trees are "digested'^^J and made into wood pulp. The ma-HH chines, or wood caldrops, .used foz^Hj this purpose are important factors in^H paper making. A* New York State^H paper company has just otdet&d the^B largest digester ever made. Ii will^H be forty feet high and long, with a^H diameter of fifteen feet,, and wilt'be^H made of l?-inch steel plate. Tho^H digested is to be nsedin developing process for weaving cloth from wood pulp. Large chunks of wood, about H thirty inches long and six inches in H diameter, are thrown into the diges-; H t?r And thero boiled and treated with an aoid. This process lasts for twelve fl boars and the wood is rednced to a H Said palp, in which state it easily fl felts, or mats together, in any deeirea H thickness. This matter palp in then H dried and passed through rollers that fl irush the libers together and' makft the paper.?^Chicago Record. ^flj Joy and Life. , H And to wbat does tho old, old man, Jaj the incredibly old man in YieniXa^it- ^ tribute his present happiness? "X .J ever worried and I never grieved. I worked until I was tired and then i slept in unbroken rest until it wil ^ tiriae to work again. It is those whcj sit brooding over their misfortune^ who grow old before their time, and 4 1a onfrnroinrr VlQQ llflrflf T\Tti ITUViO UI^UV O | ? copper in any man's pocket or made i misfortune lighter to .bear." Thif uan in humble circumstances is a true philosopher. Ponder his words, if > pou are anxious to pa9s a happy old ; ige and if you really believe .tbat life s uf itself the chief blessing. Bat ilso remember that the art of life is to je reasonably thankful each day; and i3 lot to wonder why you should be J yildly tbankfnl at any set and ap- | pointed time.?Boston Journal. >,J Virginia's Woman Executioner. F In pre-Kevolutionary days there waa k woman public executioner in Virginia. At that time death sentences rere respited on condition that a erimnal should perform this office. "Lady v? Betty," as she was afterward called,' ras sentenced to death for murder. >lie offered instead to becomo public ixecutiocer and held this office for | aany years. It is said that on the * caffold she officiated without a mask. \ , V; Duches* Befriends Women Convict*. v? Adeline, Duchess of Bedford, knowu aore about women convicts in Engand than any other woman. Her Trace holds special permission from> he Home Secretary to visit the conict prisons in which women are iiw ^ arcerated for longer periods than two " ears, and very excellent use she ha* lade of the great trust reposelinher. DUCHESS OP BEDFORD. * ? Pith her colleague, Lady Battersea, be does everything in her power U> ive the prisoners, upon their disliarge, a frtsh start under improved j onditions. The Ducbess is a hand- I ome woman in the prime of life, and I heu speaking from the platform her I harming voice is curiously like that 1 f her sister, Lady Henry Somerset. Victoria'* Marriage Ring*. Not many years ago 11 was xne cub jiu to distribute a large quantity of J iags at the occurrence of some im- I ortant event. When Queen Victoria I larried several dozens of rings were Jlfl resented to important personages. lach ring bore her portrait, but it was i small that a magnifying glass had HB > be used to recoznize it. A perfectly proportioned man is iid to weigh twenty-eight pounds for ftrv foot of his heieht. <