?? 7 ;
lewis m. grist, proprietor. J gin Jmlcpeiutcnt rJfainily $Jeu;spapf r: <^oi! the promotion of tlti) 'Ijoiitiqal, Soi(ial, ^5nitultui|iil and ^ommqtial Jntcrijsts of the J?outh. | terms?$2.00 a year in advance.
vol.37. yoekyille, s. c., wednesday, october 7, 1891. no. 35.
I ?;?,! rarrnnt to til A PflflVPTllfttlCe Of IDRIl.
THE MELVIL
EDITED BY AL
Copyrighted by America]
CHAPTER X.
CONTRIBUTED BY TUB KEEPER OF THE
* DEAD HOUSE.
1
At latt faint gltmmcriny* of his former
life came back to him.
I have been shown the contribution of
Mr. Edward L. Pelton and asked to take
np the story where he laid it down. In
the winter of 1863-4 I was employed in
the Federal hospital camp to which he
refers. I remember all about the camp,
for i had some startling experiences
there. What I know about Private
, Maurice Green can be get down in few
words.
To begin with, I never knew the man
^ in his lifetime. It was in my official
capacity as keeper of the hospital dead
room that 1 received him on the morning
following the accident which caused
his death. 1 had work enough on my
hands in those days, God knows, for the
poor fellows were dying right and left,
and I am now able to recall Maurice I
* Green to my mind only on account of
the nnnsnal manner of his death. I pre.
pared his body for the grave, and it was
my hands that set above his last resting
place the pine board that bears his name.
Now for the first question: How do 1
inow that the man I helped to bury on
the day following the explosion was j
Maurice Green? Let me answer the
question by asking one. Why should the
attendant in the ward in which he died |
report a false name to me? Surely the
attendant could not have been mistaken
in the man. Surely he could have had
no motive in deceiving me.
Look at the common sense of the
thing. The attendant had fed and nursed
him through an attack of brain fever. If
# ^ such an-experience as that wont post one
man as to the identity of another, what
^ ?:in
nui*
Then again, the man Pelton is pleased
to call the foraging soldier did not belong
in Pelton's ward. So only one man
under his care was killed by the explosion.
The wounded were taken back to
their beds, and the only dead man he
was responsible for he brought to me in
person. You must admit that the wounded
men knew their own beds.
Stop! I remember now that one of
the wounded men lay moaning for weeks
and weeks, and never knew until long
afterward to whose kind offices he owed
his recovery. Then his mother came
from New York and took him away.
? Yon can't arjrno with me ths? this self
sacrificing mother, hot knowing her Own
son, took another man away to her home.
So that disposes of the question of identity
which, 1 am told, has been raised in
the case. Green was the only man who
left Pelton's ward for good that night.
Pelton's identification is therefore complete.
* Stop again! 1 have been too fast, and
I have a trifling confession to make. The
case which looks so strong to me now
did not seem so then. At the time 1
helped to bury Maurice Green I did not
see fit to depend entirely upon the attendant's
identification.
1 presume my own observations made
at the time amount to nothing, but 1
may as well set them down.
Wtian >?*? nnnrAar ornlrulnl in t.hft hrtfU
pital the men grouped about the fire
were, for the purpose of increased
warmth, wrapped in the blankets from
their beds. TTie blankets bore numbers
-corresponding with the numbers of the
bed3 to which they belonged. When the
body of Maurice Green was brought to
me his hands still clasped the blanket he
wore at the time of his death. The number
on that blanket was ninety-nine. The
ward book showed that the number of
his bed was ninety-nine.
This satisfied me. 1 did go so fur as to
make an examination of the dead man's
pockets, but I found them to be empty.
The clothing which had been brought to
the hospital with him had been destroyed,
and there was no record of the preservation
of any article found on his person.
Now you have all 1 know of the circumstances
of Maurice Green's burial.
Now for the second question. What
can 1 remember of the man from New
York? In the first case I can't see what
the case of Private Maurice Green has to
do with the case of the man from New
York. Perhaps that is no affair of mine.
WHothar it in nr Tint. I will nhftV orders.
Within a week of the time of the ex- i
plosion the roads became passable and
the hospital camp was broken up. There
is no knowing how long our sick and '
wounded soldiers might have remained j
there only for the.fact that the building j
bad been shattered beyond repair by the
accident
The man from New York was in no
condition to be moved. He was assigned
quarters in a farm house a short distance
from the site of the camp, and I was detailed
to attend him. The prospect was
a dreary one for me, but there is no such
thing as a private's having his own way
in the army, and 1 had to make the beet
of it The only ray of hope 1 had to
cheer me as the soldier guard marched
away was conveyed in the last words of
the officer making the detail.
"Lieutenant Melville's friends will
soon arrive from the east," be said, "and
then you can join your regiment."
Owing to the lack of proper transportation
the young man's relatives did not
reach him until three weeks had passed.
When they did arrive he was still unconscious.
They had learned of our exact
whereabouts only after a visit to the
camping place of the company which
had acted as guard to the hospital. With
their instructions for finding the farm
house they had also received some writ
ten orders to be delivered to me. The I
orders were as short as they were disa- i
greeable: "Stay with your charge so long [
as yon can be of use."
I said just now that Lieutenant Melville
was still unconscious when his rela- j
tives arrived. By relatives 1 mean his !
mother and a famous New York surgeon 1
in some way connected with the family.
He was more than unconscious. He was
raving night and day like an insane person.
His mother?a pale, aristocratic
lady with perfect manners and a perfect
face?sat by his side nearly a month before
he recognized her.
The morning he regained consciousness
his mother, acting under the directions '
of the surgeon, took his wasted hand in
her own and called his name. The j
patient's eyes rested inquiringly for a i
moment upon the kind face above him !
and turned away. I was in another part j
of the room at the time, but the cry of I
anguish that came from the bedside the I
next moment told me what had hap- ;
pened. The wounded man, although !
seemingly in the full possession of his
senses, had failed to recognize his mother!
The surgeon quieted the mother as
best he might and led her away. Then
began a systematic examination of the
invalid's shattered mind. For days the
surgeon's skillful efforts produced no
hopeful results.
LE MURDER.
FRED B. TOZER.
[i Press Association, 1891.
The injured man's brain retained not
one incident of his life previous to the
time he was struck senseless by the accident
in the hospital. lie did not even
remember the occasion of his injury.
Lieutenant Melville had been a patient
student, and had been regarded in his
regiment as a well read man. Now
~ ? An?1t? otri/lmo Korl
every resuit ui uio cai ovuui^o uuu
passed from his mind. He could not
even remember one single event of his
home life. His mind was an absolute
blank.
At last, by such patient efforts as
only a mother could exert, faint glimmerings
of his former life came back to
him, scenes of his childhood coming first
and most distinctly. At first he recognized
only such scenes as were suggested
to him time after time by his mother's
loving words. Then be began to- askquestions
regarding circumstances to
which his attention had not been called.
The joy of the mother at these faint evidences
of her son's recovery is beyond
my poor powers of description. The
surgeon constantly warned her not to be
too sanguine.
"You must remember," he said, "that
the injury to Richard's brain was inflicted
just as he was recovering from an attack
of brain fever, when he was weak
mentally as well as physically. I hope
for the best, but it may be years before
his brain recovers its former strength.
Such cases are not rare. He will soon
be well physically, but mentally he must
begin life anew."
? With this faint hope in her hear t Mrs.
Melville started home with her invalid
son. I returned to my regiment, and
the farmhouse and all I knew there
passed out of my life.
CHAPTER XL
CONTRIBUTED BY CHARLES* OAT IS.
ul can't bear to see you In Unit woman's
company."
In the early days of this inquiry I took
occasion to request of Mr. Richard Melville
a private interview.
The exact time was the day following
the interviews with the domestics of the
Melville household. I made my request
without consulting Mrs. Melville. If
you desire to know why I did not first
consult his mother, who was also my
employer, I will quote you a few words
from the first conversation I had the
hopor of having with that estimable
tejyt "My son is a Melville and a gentleman,"
she said at that time. "No
servant ever had cause to complain of
ill treatment at his hands." These are
her exact words, and, well, my business
with Mr. Richard Melville was to inquire
into his relations with a servant
Now, vou can see that I was right in not
consulting his mother.
At first Mr. Melville positively re
fused to grant me tlje interview, i naa
not gone to him to find defeat I refused
to take no for an answer. My interviews
with the domestics had put in
my mind positive information that the
housekeeper had been beard to address
Richard Melville in terms and tones in
which no servant should be allowed to
address her master. She had been heard
time aud again to address Mr. Melville
in terms of pleading, reproach and of
anger.
I wanted to know what there was between
Richard Melville and his mother's
housekeeper. I put the question straight
to him. Again he refused to answer,
and again I insisted on being answered.
"If you have private and personal reasons
for not complying with my request,"
I explained, "you can state them
to me in confidence. In that case I
pledge my word of honor that your confidence
shall not be violated. If, however,
any of your conversations with the
housekeeper were upon matters connected,
however remotely, with the death of
her brother I shall insist upon all my
questions being answered. I have no
power to force yon to speak of these
matters in private. I have the power to
force you to speak of them ia public. I
must leave yotT to decide the time and
place?now and in private or tomorrow
and in public."
To uso a Drofessional terra, Mr. Mel
ville weakened.
"I can't see how my private conversations
with my mother's housekeeper can
in any way affect the question of her
guilt or innocence," he said. "I am informed
that but for the protection of my
mother the housekeeper would now be
in the custody of the police. 1 believe
the course my mother is pursuing to be
the correct course. I do not think the
poor woman should be taken to jaiL
She shduld be taken to a madhouse. In
my opinion the housekeeper is insane.
She has been insane since her husband
was killed in the army.
"For the sole purpose of proving my
position to be the correct one I am about
to grant your request Y,ou shall know
what we talked about when the meddling
servants overheard us. You
shall know all that I know regarding her
deformity of mind?all that I know regarding
her claims on me.
"The housekeeper accused me then
just as sue accuses me now 01 uemg an
impostor in Mrs. Clark Melville's house!
She accuses me of being Maurice Green!
She accuses me of being the man who
married her in Maine and who died in
the hospital!"
1 can write down here the words
spoken by Mr. Melville. I cannot describe
the white heat of rage his voice
and manners betrayed. That is beyond
the power of any human pen. I have
seen many a man in passion. I never
saw a passion like that which had possession
of Richard Melville at the time
of that interview.
"She has been a curse to me ever since
she came into the house," he continued.
"When her own efforts proved futile to
accomplish my disgrace,, she set her
brute of a brother on me?her coachman
in disguise!"
In my mind I saw snares gathering
about the feet of Mr. Richard Melville,
but his passion was so great he saw
nothing. lie raved up and down the
room like a maniac. I made no comment,
but ait patiently waiting for him
to go on.
"I know what you are about to ask
me," he continued. "I will answer your
questions in .advance. I can't tell you
why I did not turn both of the miserable
creatures out of the house. Perhaps
it was because their reproaches and
demands annoyed without distressing
me until Miss Clara Roberts arrived in
the house. Up to that time I believed
that the poor, deluded woman would
soon discover her mistake. When she
talked to me on the subject I think I always
answered her in that way. I always
refused to consider tho matter
seriously.
"I offered to give her tho influence of
my bank account and my naino to aid
' her in her search for the husband she be|
lieved to be alive, but I refused to in aDy
way.discuss or argue the matter with her
or her brother. All my offers were de|
clined. She had only one thing to demand
| of me. That one thing was that I should
\ recognize her as my wife before my
| mother and before all the world.
"When Miss Clara Roberts came to us
; she came as my promised wife. From
that time on I had no rest, night or day.
' Wherever I went the housekeeper threw
herself in my way. Wherever I went
her reproaches filled my ears, 'I can't
bear to see you in that woman's company,'
she would say, wringing her
hands and crying as you saw her wring
hor hnnda nml nrv nt thA inrmAsfc. 4Ynn
"v* ? 1 * ;
are my lawful husband. I won't have
you making love to her!'
I "My pity for the woman alone restrained
me from confiding the condition
i of affairs to my mother and requesting
her to have the housekeeper examined as
to her sanity. More than once I sought
I my mother for the purpose of making
I the disclosure. Each time my courage j
| failed me. She is still ignorant of
her housekeeper's.preposterous claims.
"I resize that I am treading on
' fffiflgSfohs ^h)fffid~nr'statlng th"eie facts'
i to you. I have shown you that I had a
! motive in the coachman's death. That
is what the public officers would say.
The public officers, as usual, would find j
; themselves mistaken. My safety de- ;
| pended on the life of the mad woman's i
1 brother. Let me explain:
I "It is now my firm belief that the
coachman grew in time to realize the
j mistake his sister had made regarding
. me. He is known to have quarreled
with her almost constantly for a month
prior to his death. There is only one
thing they could have quarreled about;
that one thing was the question of drop!
ping or pressing their claim against me.
"Without the aid and countenance of
her brother the woman's claim against
i me was certain to fjill to the ground.
| I believe the coachman to have been an
i honest man. He had become satisfied
j in his own mind that his sister was mis|
taken. He refused to aid her in wreck- I
icg the life of an innocent man.
"Regarding all their charges against j
< me, 1 make to you a firm denial. Being
| Richard Melville, it is impossible that I '
| should bo Maurice Green. Take from !
J my life the few months when 1 suffered
j from the explosion in the hospital, and
| my memory establishes my identity l>ej
yond a doubt. It would establish it in j
] any court of law. Ask the family surj
geon who brought me back to life and j
| reason in the farmhouse. Ask my early j
! fwan/lo I rtv?ntrni7Afl nnnn mV TP- I
| covery, and whom Maurice Green could ;
: not have known. Then if you are still 1
J in doubt as to my identity and the house- !
i keeper's sanity, ask my mother, Mrs. ;
Clark Melville,
"About the life of Maurice Green i
know nothing. 1 remember the man.
He was instantly killed by the accident
that wonuded me. I have heard that it
was claimed by persons in the hospital
that he resembled me. I don't believe it
"There, you have 'my statement It
. points the search for the coachman's
slayer in the same old way. Some day,
in a lucid interval, the housekeeper
may confess that she murdered her
brother rather than have him live to
thwart her in her insane efforts to bring
me to recognize her as my wife. If she
ever does coufess, it will be when she
has abandoned her pursuit of me."
CHAPTER XIL
CONTRIBUTED BY THE DEPUTY COUNTY
PHYSICIAN.
"/ see how it is," s)ie said.
I am a physician and snrgeon by profession.
At one time I was one of the
deputy county physicians of the county |
of New York.
It was while I occupied this position j
that I received a note from Mrs. Clark j
Melville requesting a short interview !
with me at her own residence. Mrs.
Clark Melville was not a lady whose re- 1
j quests were to be ignored, and I lost no :
| time in placing myself at her disposal.
"I have sent for you in your official
i capacity," she began, after I had l>een
j seated in her elegant parlor. "I desire
I to call your attention to a strange case
! which is to me of the greatest impor|
tance. I have taken this step only after
days of careful deliberation, and I ask
at your hands a painstaking examination
of the whole matter. I want you
to tell me what I ought to do.
"When I leave this room a lady will
enter from the library on the right. At
; this moment she is there waiting to come :
J to you. That lady is Mrs. Caroline
j Green. You have undoubtedly heard 1
! her name mentioned in anything but fa- !
j vorable terms in connection with a mur- .
j der which recently took place in this
( house. If you have read the daily news- I
! papers I need say no more to yon in this i
I connection.
"I want you to talk with her, with a :
! view to ascertaining the condition of her '
mind jis to sanity. I presume you phyi
sicians have a set rule of procedure in
such cases. Therefore 1 must leave the
I details to you.
j "You understand, of course, that Mrs.
; Green is still' in my employ and under i
j my protection. Only for this, instead of
| being in my library at this moment she i
would l>e in prison awaiting the official
i investigation of my coachman's death.
! The reporters, through their respective
i newspapers, have been blind enough to
; accuse me of sheltering and protecting
I an insane criminal. I have called you
) in to secure a final and official decision |
on that ono point.
| "Summon all the assistance you re- '
: quire at my expense. In case you find
the poor creature to bo insane it is my
purpose to provide for her in a private j
asylum. If your report shows her to be j
i in her right mind and in the full possession
of all her faculties, I shall no longer !
interfere with the officers, who have thus
far kindly allowed 1110 to have my own
I way."
Almost at the same instant that Mrs. j
Melville left the parlor the library door
opened and Mrs. Carolino Green advanced
to the center of the room.
I saw a woman whose hair was whiter ,
than that of her mistress, who was a j
good twenty-five years her senior. Her 1
i face was pallid and wrinkled, and there J
were dark circles under her eyes, which
seemed to mo to be f;uled and dull to an
| unusual degree. Her form was slight
J and shrinking. As she stood before me,
: with her hands clasped tightly together
and her eyes turned downward, she appeared
hardly able to maintain her upright
position. She stood there the ;
wreck of a once handsome and spirited ;
j woman.
I hardly know how to record tho coni
versation that took place between us. I
began by saying that I had been summoned
fis a physician to inquire into the
stato of her health.
"Yes, I know," she said, wearily sinking
into a chair. "Mrs. Melville told me
that you had been called. She is very !
kind."
At first I could do nothing but make '
' the usual inquiries.
"You have every appearance of being j
1 out of hearth," I said to begin with:
"can you locate your difficult} ?"
: "I am not ill," she replied. "I am not
j in pain. In the kindness of her heart
I Mrs. Melville puts too much strass on
my temporary inability to perform the
services for which I am paid. Will you
be kind enough to say that to her when
you make your report?"
( I tried to explain to her that there
were diseases of the nerves and diseases
of the brain which at times baffled the
skill of the ablest physicians, and that
these were the most fatal of all diseases,
unless treated in time and treated by
those having the confidence of the patient
to the fullent extent.
j "All the world knows," I said, and
God knows I endeavored to say it kindly,
"that recent events in this house have !
taxed your mental and physical strength j
to the utmost Try to believe that I j
| am not here to pry into your sorrows, 1
but rather to give you strength to endure
and overcome them. Confide in me, j
and you may have a long and useful life 1
before you. Refuse to aid me in ray efforts
to assist you. and the end is not far
away."
"I see how it is,"shesaid. "You have
been reading the reporters' accounts of J
my condition. The newspapers have j
decided that I am insane. Have you j
come to verify that decision?"
"My dear madam"? She interrupted j
mo before I could complete the sentence."Stop!"
she said. "I have heard that j
between the honorable physician and his!
patient there exists a confidence aa sacred, j
as the confidence of the confessional. :
Tell me if this is true!"
I assured her that it was true.
"Then listen to me," she said, walking j
wililv un and down the full length of j
the room. "I am growing old before
my time because I have suffered wrongs
such as few women could endure and
live. I start at the sound of every opening
door and tremble at every unusual
noise because my life is constantly ir.
danger. Before yon have time to report;
the result of this interview to Mrs. Melville?kindest
and most generous of
women?I may be d&id?stricken down !
by a hand that should protect me; by a :
hand that would protect me were it
r lided by a healthy brain!
-Don't set down what 1 say to you, j
under the seal of confidence, sis the rav- !
ing8 of a mad woman. If yon knew how i
I have been followed and watched since >
that horrible night when they found my !
brother dead in his room, yon would
have only pity for me. I am safe at no j
time?at no place. I am pursued in the '
street. Evil and revengeful eyes are j
upon me wherever I go!"
The woman's terror was too intense
for any man to look upon calmly. I j
went to her with my arms extended in j
the kindest tnauner, for the purpose of j
reassuring her and pledging her my pro- j
tection. She stopped me.
"Stand where you are!" she cried, with
a hard look growing on her pallid face;
"stand where you are! How am I to decide
whether you come here as my
friend? If you are in the league against
me, I warn you that I mean to make a.
hard fight for my life. 1 aiu not so helpless
as you may suppose, lam armed! j
If you mean fair, stand where you are j
and listen, under your honor and your !
professional pledge of secrecy, to what j
I have to say. Then, perhaps, you will
not wonder at the frame of mind you see
me in.
"Imagine the peaceful lifo of a girl
wife in a quiet New England village.
i 1.: i
see ner give wim ureattiug ueuit u?
husband of a day to the service of his
country. See her watching day by day
for long and loving letters from the
south. Hear her cries of agony when a
comrade writes that he is dead.
"Then put yourself in lrer place when
the proof comes that the story of her
husband's death was miserable subterfuge?that
instead of having met an
honorable death her husband has basely
deserted her. Follow the unfortunate
woman in her efforts to find and reclaim
the man she still loves. Stand beside
her when at last her search is successful
?when she looks once more into her
husband's eyes and extends to him her
empty arms!
"Then do aught but pity her, if you
can, when the face she worships is
turned scornfully from her; when her i
claims as a wife are ignored; when the !
false and brutal husband of her youth ;
fondles and caresses a fair young sweet- |
heart in her very presence. What wo- j
man could endure all this and not go !
mad?
"Do I speak in riddles? I am that |
suffering woman. Who the false and j
traitorous husband is I may not say. All j
the world shall know some day. Some j
day there shall como an accounting be*
?
t WC'JIi uo?
With these hist words on her lips she j
fell into my arms in a swoon. Was I ;
justified in making a report which the J
next day consigned her to a private nnid
house?
CHAPTER XIII.
CONTRIBUTED BY TIIE MATRON OF THE
PRIVATE ASYLUM.
I could not hear their worth..
In the year eighteen hundred and seventy
I was matron of a privato and :
most exclusive asylum for the insane in
New York city. It was in this capacity
that I first saw Mrs. Caroline Green.
From the day of her arrival at the !
iisylum she became my especial charge.
She came to me accompanied by Mrs.
Clark Melville and a deputy county pliy- i
sician.. When I entered the leception
room on the morning of their arrival I
oonlil nnt for tho lifn nf mn liiivf Ri'lficffvl
from the t'.vo well dressed ladies before
me the one who was to be placed in my
charge. I was not long kept in doubt.
"I am Mrs. Clark Melville," said one 1
of the ladies, advancing to meet rac,
"and I have brought you a guest, Mrs.
Caroline Green. We do not consider
the case a serious one. I act only on the J
advice of my family physician and at
the request of an officer of the county."
Mrs. Caroline Green seemed entirely
unmoved by this novel introduction. In
fact, I think she was the more composed
of the two at the time.
"I ain informed," Mrs. Melville con- !
tinued, "that your treatment of diseases
of the brain and diseases of the nerves is
invariably successful- Spare no trouble
or expense to make it successful in this
case. :
"At times you will find your patient
in great distress of mind. She lnis suffered
most cruelly, and I can't get the
notion out of my head but that for her
connection with my household she would
still be a happy woman.
"It is my wish that she lie allowed all
the liberty possible under the rules of
the asylum. If people call to see her let j
her .act her own pleasure about receiving
them. She has been much in my com- !
pany during the past, and I do not expect
to be parted from her now. 1 shall !
call frequently."
These are almost the exact words with
which Mrs. Caroline Green was placed
in my charge. During the entire internew
Bhe romained seated, wi;h her oyes
fixed upon the carpet. No ono would j
ha vesuspected from her appearance that j
it was her prospects and her privileges j
which were being so hopefnlly discussed
In her very presence. When Mrs. Melville
had taken her departure she lifted ;
her eyes to mine.
"Mrs. Clark M&ville is very kind," j
she said, "and I am sure she has left me
in kind and skillful hands. From this
moment J: shall le*w0 everything to you.
I mean to obey yotf implicitly. Give me
the proper instructions and your patience
shall be taxed no farther."
She spoke cheerfully enough, but during
all ray long service at the asylum a
face more hopeless, a form more shrinking
and dejected never passed from the
reception room into the locked and
barred apartments set aside for patients.
I, in person, accompanied her to the
ward where cases like hers were treated,
and gave her the best rooms nt my
disposal.
I may iis well say here that from first
to hist I never detected in Mrs. Green
the slightest evidences of insanity. She j
talked coherently, and seemed to bo entirely
free from the petty whims and
caprices with which patients of her class
almost invariably make the lives of
their attendant!) jaj^rable. Her taeais
wero taken in herovvu room, and fr6-"t"
quently some of the more rational patients
were invited to share them. She >
ordered all the daily papers and read !
them eagerly. j'
I knew from the day of her arrival |
that the attending physician was not !
treating her for brain trouble.
"We shall lose our most desirable j ii
patient," he said to me one day, "so i c
soon as I can get her nerves under ^
control. Let her feel the restraint of ,
the place as little as possible, and we
shall soon return her to her patroness a *i
well woman.?' b
The apartments occupied by Mrs. b
Green were in a wing running north r
from the main building. The wi ndows t
of this part of the structure faced east
and opened on a well kept lawn running j s
the whole length of the wing. The i
lawn was separated from the street by a i u
high brick wall. In the center of the t
lawn was a fountain surrounded by j tl
flowers and growing plants and vines.
East of the fountain was an iron gate g
opening on the street. The gate was ' a
composed of perpendicular iron bars set j r
solidly in metal cross beams, and per- j c
mitted a full view of the lawn and the j' ti
fountain from the walk outside. This a
gate was invariably kept locked, and no ! c
one save myself had access to the key. i v
The lawn was reached from the wing by
means of an ordinary door in a direct v
line with the fountain and the gate, j c
This door was also kept locked except in j
rare instances, when the patients were . t
allowed to use tho lawn, xmder the ?
watchful eyes of the attendants, for
promenading purposes. | n
Mrs. Green had full permission to walk
in this quiet place whenever she desired. n
She spent a great deal of her time at the 0
fountain and at the gate. At first she f,
frequented the place only in the day c
time. Then she complained of being
unable to sleep in her bed, and asked the p
special privilege of evening promenades u
on the lawn. My private room over- a
looked the lawn. I recalled my instruc- a
tions regarding Mrs. Green. I granted
her request. From that time on every c
pleasant evening found Mrs. Green by
the fountain or by the gate.
\fa1villa wan n. frennent
visitor at the asylum. It was her custom
to come alone, but one day a gentle- ^
man, whom she introduced as her son,
came with her. From the windows of v
my apartment we saw Mrs. Green on E
the lawn and proceeded there at once.
Once there I left the party of three e
standing by the fountain, and wens to a 0
room on the first floor of the wing to at; 8
tend to some detail the nature of which ?
I have now forgotten. From the win- *
dows of this room I saw Mr. Melville n
and Mrs. Caroline Green walking up and
down the graveled path which bordered n
the lawn. At the end of a few turns
they stopped at the gate and stood gaz- v
ing into the street. !
I could not hear their words. They o
were evidently not intended for other v
ears than their own. But actions some- 1
times convey stronger impressions than j
words. I knew in an instant that she I v
was asking for something he declined to j p
grant. I knew it from his stubborn and j hi
defiant attitude. I knew it from her i o
manner?at times threatening, at times n
beseeching. s;
While I stood at the window, forming t<
my own conclusions as to the meaning of
what I saw, Mrs. Clark Melville ap- i
proached the spot where I stood and '
pointed significantly to the two figures j
bv the crate.
"You see how it is," she said, with a j
worried look ou her kind old face. "For i
weeks Mrs. Green has seemed contented j 1
only in the presence of my son, and yet I e
she is always worse after being in his j
company. Does she talk about him to !
the servants here?"'
I assured her that she did not.
"Well," was the reply, "she may como j
to that in time. If she does, do not fail j
to let me know. Perhaps it is wrong to j d
tillow them to talk together alone, j 11
Richard!" i c
At the sound of his mother's voice Mr. j
Melville turned from the gate and from ;
his companion and started up the j "
straight walk leading to the wing door ! P
by way of the fountain. Mrs. Green I h
followed, laying her hand on his arm 1 si
when her excited talk failed to stop him. "
What she was saying seemed to inter- A
est him. j o
He hesitated an instant, and then, with d
Mrs. Green again at his side, turned n
into the walk which bordered the lawn, j si
Mrs. Clark Melville saw the move- ; v
-i A i ofvnaan/i Viv if n
WCLlL ami ajijjcaicu uiomvuuvu .?? , ~
For nn instant she seemed resolved to j 1;
advance along the walk for the purpose . 1<
of meeting the loitering couple, and stop- 1 t<
ping by her own presence any private j i<
conversation they might be engaged in.
The next moment she turned in the opposite
direction and entered the build- j
ing. For the next three minutes I heard ! 1
her walking impatiently up and down !
tho corridor which bounded the wing on
the west. ' ti
In order for the couple to reach the ' n
wiug door by tho route they had taken, j a
it become nccessarv for them to pass v
within a foot of the window where I t!
stood. ti
I was not in sight from the walk. It k
is not always my duty to be in sight , v
when I desire to know what is going on b
in my house. As the couple approached t.
the window they stopped as though to j,
gain time to complete an important con- j f.
versation. f,
T ma]. ItAnMmUof IUai* ooi/1 TX71 mn_
X UUUIU IlUt UUcll u naw HICJT D<IU4? TT l?V? | j*
ever Mrs. Caroline Green raised her v Dice ! j
above a cautious whisper, Mr. Richard j c
Melville checked her. This of itself was Y
suspicious, .and I did my best to hear i ^
more. S(
A't last they started slowly along the y
walk. As they passed the window where |
I stood I heard my patient's voice:
"If not here, then at the gate,"' the t
voice said, "and not later than ninel"
The next moment Mrs. Melville met
them at the door and walked away with s
her hand on her son's arm.
[to iik continrki> nkxt wkkk.1
1 I s:
ICvciincillnt; Old Kncrnlcs. j y
There inay not be much in a name, but j ]
an item gatherer of the Palatka (Fla.) , si
Herald found some fun in two names u
the other day, and went away reflecting ; 0
on the beautiful impartialities of peace.
An old colored woman stood at the |)
station waiting for -the Jacksonville ( ,r
train. Beside her stood two little pick- 1 r
auinnieswith faces as black as the inside 1 r
of a stovepipe. When the old mammy's 1(
train arrived she exclaimed, "Bress de ;
Lor'!" and then, looking down at her .,
children, remarked, "Here, you Abra- s;
ham Lincoln, take hold of Jeff Davis' j c
hand, and come along heah, quick!" e
And the namesakes or the two great ].
statesmen of the war joined hands and j ..
walked away, as though the names had
not expressed such a dissimilarity of {.
purpose. '
CLEMSON COLLEGE. j
We have received quite a number of j
iquiries lately in regard to Clemson j
ollege, the splendid new State institu- :
ion soon to be opened at Fort Hill. ;
Liiswering all the inquiries at the same :
ime, as fully and satisfactorily as possi- |
le, we herewith print a cut of the j
uilding now nearing completion, and j
eproducc from The Keowee Courier j
he rules regulating the admission of j
tudents:
Students are not to be admitted i
uder 15 years of age, except where
wo brothere apply, one being over 15,
he other not under 14.
Thorough proficiency in arithmetic, j
eography, history of the United States i
nd a fair knowledge of grammar, are
equired for admission in the college
lasses, but on account of the condiion
of the public schools the faculty
re required to establish preparatory
lasses for pupils not sufficiently adanced,
but of required age.
Students will be required to bring
rith them two sheets, two blankets or !
oraforts, six towels and one pillow.
All student will be required to work !
wo hours each week day, unless ex- j
used for sickness or other necessary |
ause, and compensation to be allowed ;
ot to exceed eight cents per hour.
Students who perform extra labor, |
ot necessarily educational, shall re- 1
eive compensation according to faith- :
illness and quality of work, not to ex- j
eed nine cents per hour.
A fee for medical attendance, or hos- '
ital fee, shall be charged each student j
pon admission, not to exceed $5.00, j
nd no extra charge shall be made in I
ny case of sickness.
Expenses for board shall be actual !
ost of provisions and service, not to j
xceed $7.00 per month; washing fifty |
cuts per month. Books and station- j
ry at acuuu coat.
All the students shall be required to !
oard in the institution, except those j
/ho live with their parents near i
nough to attend from their homes. !
^he government shall me military, and
ach student shall be required to pur- i
hase a prescribed uniform of cadet j
ray, to cost not more than $16.00, and
fatigue suit not to cost more than ,
8.00, and such work clothes as he j
my desire.
Each student shall deposit, upon ad- j
lission, the sum of $24 for said suits, j
Board shall be paid monthly in adance.
The first Thursday in February shall j
e the beginning of the collegiate year,
/hich shall terminate on the fourth
'uesday of November.
The board decided that with the ;
/ork, recreation and diversity of em- j
loyment, the students could well j
tand ten months, with the six days
f regular duties, better than nine j
lonths and five days under a different j
ystem, and it would enable the boys
' * * * 5- r ? I
o get a Deuer aavance m iour jcmib.
The cost to poor boys sums up :
For board ten months 870 00
For medical attention 5 00
For washing 5 00
For uniforms or clothing 24 00
8104 00
Which he may reduce by his labor,
'o this for boys of means must be addd
a tuition fee of $40.
The cost to those able to pay :
As above $104 00
Tuition fee 40 00
$144 00
The college shall have two regular
epartments?the Agricultural departtent
and the Technological or Mchanical
department.
The general purpose of the board is
0 require the same course of study for
oth Agricultural and Mechanical dcartments
in English, mathematics,
istory and political economy and phy- i
ics. The course will begin to diverge !
1 chemistry after first year's course, j
igricultural chemistry will be required j
nly of students in the Agricultural I
epartment, as will also biology, botay,
etc., with horticulture. In the j
hops, drawing and farm mechanics ,
511 lin ivinniriul tn n flpfrrpp for SttldeiltS !
r ... .. ,?0
fboth departments, but -will be great- |
Y enlarged for Mechanical or Techno- \
jgical students, who will be required
o take an extensive course in median- j
ml and civil engineering.
WHY NOT RAISE WHEAT?
'he Farmers Lose Money by not Giv- j
ing Proper Attention to this Crop.
This season of the year being the j
ime when all those fanners who have j
ot already sown their fall wheat, are,
s usual, doubting and hesitating
whether or not to sow any, we desire I
his week to submit a few observaions
011 the subject. Everybody j
nows that during the past twenty
ears wheat raising in this country has |
een on a gradual decline. Each sue- ;
ceding harvest is smaller than the i
receding one, and except a few i
irmers here and there, who continue
lithfiil, the raising of our own bread- (
^t.~ .. a.;.,,, ?r i
Ill IIS lIIIX*IllL'lir> IU UCIA/Mli; ?l Uiaia^ Vf* ,
lie past. Why is this? Have you j
ver thought about it? Some will say j
hat they can buy bread cheaper than |
hey can raise it; others that our
oil and climate is not adapted to
.heat; and still others, that they can j
se their lands more profitably in the
ultivation of other crops. But are
hese things so ? We say not. Don't!
ou remember that wheat used to be a j
tuple crop of this country, and that
ur people raised enough not only for j
heir own consumption, but also con- i
idcrnble quantities for export ? Well
ucli is the fact, and more clear money j
ras made then than is made now. J
hit this was previous to the war, and
inee that time there has been a gradal
decline. Do you know the cause j
f this decline ? Here it is:
Years ago, before the cotton craze |
ceamc epidemic, the people sowed J
ood land, thoroughly prepared?these !
equirenients, you know, are neeessa- j
y to make much of anything?and I
lake good wht'at. When the cotton
raze came along the people gradully
worked themselves into the debt- ;
ion that there was more money in
otton than there was in wheat. Now j
vcrybody knows that it takes good
ltid to make good cotton, and it was 1
ot long before the people began to
hint cotton where they formerly
owed their wheat. Year after year,
CLEM80N AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE.
by the encroachments of cotton, wheat
was forced on land poorer and poorer, 1
until nt tViia timn wo find snmfi nponlfl 1
trying to raise' it on land that will not
produce even enough wire grass to <
feed a sheep. As a rule, it is these
people who are wondering why they
cannot raise wheat. They attribute i
their failure to the climate, the seed, i
the price, and everything else but the <
real cause?lack of proper cultivation
and plenty of manure. i
Such are the facts in the case, briefly
stated. Now, seriously, there is money i
in wheat, and any farmer who neglects
to raise it loses money, not only for 1
himself, but for the whole country.
Every bushel he buys in the North- i
west costs him a dollar or a dollar
and a quarter for what might have
been raised at home for about thirty
cents, and costs the country the circulation
of a dollar or a dollar and a
quarter, which should never be allowed
to go away on such a foolish, extrava- i
gant and wanton errand. There is
more money in raising wheat than
there is in raising cotton. You don't
believe it? Of course you don't. If
you- did, you would raise wheatwouldn't
you ? Well, we believe it,
and we will tell you why. All the best
farmers that we know raise enough
wheat to at least keep their plantations i
in bread, and it is the expression of all
of these that it pays.
Last year a reporter of The Enquirer
interviewed various prosperous
farmers in the surrounding vicinity,
with a view to getting information that
would be of val ue to those who are not
so prosperous. Nearly every one of
those farmers had something to say
about wheat raising, and as this subject
is of special interest just now, we
reproduce what they had to say :
Mr. W. S. Wilkerson, of the Hickory
Grove neighborhood, significantly expressed
himself as follows: "I haven't
bought tj pound of flour or a bushel of
wheat since I have been farming."
Mr. James Gordon made some very
level headed remarks. He said : "Of
course we can raise wheat, and we
can't afford to buy it with cotton either.
I sowed nine bushels last year and
made 159 j. But the way some people
prepare their lands, I don't see how
they could have the impudence to expect
to make anything. Why, I've
seen them sow wheat on cotton lands
without even knocking down the
stalks. To make wheat, you've got to
have good land, well manured and
pulverized thoroughly. Be carefnl in
sowing; see that it is well covered?
not too deep for it won't come up?and
leave your land in fix for the cradle.
You can't get on it any more after the
wheat comes up. Each year is better
for some crops than others. This year
has not been a good year for wheat, i
but if you have done your duty by it,?
you are bound to make some."
Mr. John Nichols has made a great
deal of money raising cotton. One of
his secrets is this: "You can't afford
to buy your flour. It is cheaper to
raise it.
Mr. H. F. Horton, of Bullock's
Creek, gave in his ideas as follows:
"If you will just look back you will
see that the wheat crop hus been on
the decline ever since the fence
law went into effect. There was a
big crop?about the biggest I ever
saw?in 1884; but that was an extraordinary
good year. It is true that
very few persons make as much wheat
as they used to. Here is the reason,
simple and plain. They pasture it in
the winter and spring. That will
never do in the world, w ny, Deiore
the fence law went into effect, there
were people in this neighborhood who
would raise a row if they saw a hog
walk across the field. But very soon 1
after the fence law passed, some fel- I
low 'discovered' that it didn't hurt j
wheat to pasture it, and the practice
soon became general. The crops got
lighter in proportion until almost
everybody is disheartened. Last winter
(1889-90) was fearful 011 wheat,
but those who did not pasture made a 1
better crop than those who did, unless
there was a wonderful difference in the
land."
Listen to Mr. David T. Leslie, of
Leslie Station. He said: "There is
more clear money in wheat and oats
than any other crop. Take an acre of
wheat: You can buy the seed, break
up the land, sow cradle and put it in
the barn for two dollars. An average
acre ought to make say five bushels,
which we will put as being worth
$0.75. Now take away $1.50 for your
day and a half's work?man and
horse?and 50 cents for your-seed andyou
have left $4.75, or about $3.80 a
day clear profit. This does not include
fertilizers of course. The more
fertilizers you use of the right kind,
the more wheat you make, and con- |
sequently the larger the profits."
Here is a paragraph from an interview
with Mr. \V. Holmes Hardin, of
Chester: "In speaking of wheat, Mr.
Hardin deplores the fact that our people
seem disposed to quit raising it.
ire admits that this year (1890) his
wheat has cost him about two dollars a
bushel, but he has harvested forty-two
crops, and this is by far the poorest
harvest he has ever seen. He has,
however, raised forty bushels 011 an
acre, and one year averaged seventeen
bushels on a whole crop. On his plantation
is a splendid grist and Hour mill
which he built some liftcen years ago,
at a cost of $10,000. He used to buy
a great deal of Western wheat, and
keeping a sample of his own wheat 011
hand, would oiler the drummers a certain
advance on the carload if they
would come up to his sample. 'Hut
they could never do it,' says Mr. Hardin.
'We can raise as line wheat right
here in this section as can be raised in
the world.'"
The interview with Dr. Tom Campbell,
of Energy, also contained some
points that are worth thinking about.
Although a large and successful cotton
raiser, it is the doctor's experience
that the profits in agriculture in this
country, at this time, are in grain and
grass. Speaking of wheat, he says the
country is making a great mistake in
paying no more attention to its culture.
It is true that a great many farmers
have found that it does not pay; but 1
with few exceptions this is the fault of
neither the seasons or the land. The
trouble, as a rule, arises from a lack of '
proper cultivation. "I have been sow- j
~ I
1
(
1
I
]
1 l
I
]
fcV^*v" E~*^MORGAN. ~~$]
Eggj/r*- ??cnrecrai atu?hta.ga\ ]
<
ing wheat," he says, "every season for
the past twenty-five years, and daring
that time I have made but two failures.
Last year, from not quite five bushels ,
of Ripley wheat sowed on ten acres of
land, I harvested 180 bushels.
" 'But the best wheat for our south- '
em climate is the Nicarauga. It is the
3urest of making a crop of any I have
ever had any experience with, and I
' *- ?? ii?i :r I
Have no nesiiauon in saying mat ?
each farmer in this county would sow
just one bushel of this wheat for each
member of his family, on fairly good
land, properly prepared, he would never
be under the necessity of buying his
bread. This wheat, it is true, has some
disadvantages. It is a bearded variety,
and then it is so hard and flinty
that our ordinary mills cannot grind it
into fine flour except by running it
through the mill twice. It is the very
thing for the patent roller mills, however.
This wheat contains very little
starch and so much gluten that plain
bread made from it tastes as though it
had been sweetened with sugar.
"The Nicarauga is absolutely rust
proof, and in order to get rid of the
beard, I have for several years been
mixing it with ordinary rust proof
wheat. The result is I now have a hybrid
nearly smooth, and a great deal
softer than the original, while at the
same time the best qualities, of the Nicarauga
seem to have been only slightly
impaired. This wheat is also heavier
than the other varieties, weighing 65
pounds to the bushel, and has another
important advantage; sown any time
from September to March, I have never
seen it fail. Though of course it does
better when sown in the fall." i
"What about the best manure for i
wheat, Doctor?" 1
"Peas or clover. We can get all the j
ammonia and nitrates that the land i
needs out of vegetable matter cheaper 1
than from any other source. I have
raised the finest wheat I ever saw on the i
poorest of land by first sowing in clov- ]
er, plowing under next falLand then ]
sowing in wheat." i
Economy in Cigars.?A well-known J
business man walked into a cigar store
the other morning and took out two ,
coins. One was a dollar and the other j
a half dollar. He laid them both down ,
on the case and pointed to a box of (
imported cigars, saying: "Give me a
dollar's worth of those." The clerk
handed them out and the buyer laid
the six that he wanted in a row along i
the case. Then he said to the clerk : ]
"Give me a half dollar's worth of any
good five cent cigar." The clerk did <
as he was bid and the five-centers were ]
laid along in a row also. The gentle- i
man then took the row of imported <
cigars and cut the ends off of them all.
Then he mixed the five-centers and the 1
twenty-centers up together and put ]
them all into his capacious vest j
pockets. i
A friend who was standing near, and
who had watched the operation with a i
good deal of curiosity, said : "Where- i
fore ?" "Simply this, my boy," replied i
the man addressed. "3. am in a busi- i
ness where I have to give away a good
many cigars. I am a man who likes a i
good cigar. I cannot afford to give
away the kind of cigars that I smoke
myself, so I buy a day's supply and 1
cut the ends off. Then I buy some
cheap ones. When it is necessary for
me to give away a cigar, I pull out a
handfull and offer one to the person,
whoever he may be. He thinks the
ones with the ends cut off I have had
in my mouth, and takes one of the
cheap ones, whereby I save a good 1
many dollars in the course of a year and j
also keep myself on good terms with 1
the neonle to whom it is necessary to 1
x r
give cigars."?Rochester Democrat.
Thk Drop Test for Car Wheels.? 1
The Pennsylvania Railroad company <
has begun to put its cast iron car <
wheels to a very severe test. For i
each fifty wheels which have been
shipped or are ready to ship, one wheel I i
shall he taken at random by the railroad
company's inspector?either at
the railroad company's shops or at the
wheel manufacturer's, as the case may
be?and subjected to the following ;
test: The wheel shall be placed flange
downward on an anvil block weighing 1
1,700 pounds, set 011 rubble masonry 1
2 feet deep, and having three supports
not more than 5 inches wide for the 1
wheel to rest upon. It shall be struck
centrally on the JiuL by a weight of
140 pounds, falling from a height of 12
feet.
Should the wheel break in two or
more pieces after eight blows, or less,
the fifty wheels represented by it will
be rejected; if, however, the wheel
stands eight blows without breaking in
two or more pieces, the fifty wheels will
be accepted. The wheel for the test to |
be furnished by the manufacturer iu |
addition to the fifty wheels ordered.? j
Pittsburg Dispatch.
Limits of the Steam Locomotive.?The
most experienced of rail- ! 1
road men feel that the possibilities of
steam are nearly reached?much greater
speed is not practicable, writes
Frank J. Snrairue. in Sent ember Forum.
A maximum of 90 miles an hour, with j
a running speed of oO or 70. is all that i
can he hoped for under the very best
conditions which can be provided, j
The limitations are numerous, and they ' i
are well known to all engineers. The ;
maximum speed of which a locomotive !
is capable has not been materially increased
in a number of years. The |
schedule time has been shortened j
principally by cutting down grades, 1
straightening curves, filling up ravines, ;
and replacing wooden structures with :
iron or stone; by the use of heavy !
rails, safer switches, improved methods
sf signaling, the interlocking signal
and switching system, the abolition of
grade crossings ; in short, by improve- I
ments in detail and management which I
permits higher speed on a more extended
section of road because of great- I
er safety and the greater degree of
confidence inspired in the engine :
driver.
HoRSK Sri'KUSTITlONS IN A KAMI A.?
The horse is involved in the most
ancient superstitions of the people of I
Arabia. They la lieved him to be endowed
with a nature superior, not in
degree only, but hi kind, to that of all ,
all other animals, and to have been
framed by the Almighty with a spc- I
U1U1 IVgUlU W ?MV VVM ?
One of their oldest proverbs tells them
that the horse is the most eminent of
dumb brutes, and that the most meritorious
of domestic actions is that of
Feeding him. Mohamet himself inculcated
a lesson of kindness to the horse
when he said: "As many grains of
barley as are contained in the food we
give a horse, so many indulgences do
we daily gain by giving it." The belief
is widespread in the East that all
pure Arabian horses are descended
from Mohamet's five favorite mares,
upon one of which the prophet fled
from Mecca to Medina.
An Equine Giant.?There is in
Detroit at present an equine thoroughbred
which is pronounced not only the
handsomest, hut one of'the largest
iinrsps in existence.. He is in truth a
ilant, and the veriest novice in horseflesh
could not but view his size and
beauty without a certain feeling of
iwe. This colossal animal is 6 years
)ld and yff 21 hands high, weighing . $
2,365 pounds. And ordinary sized
nan cuts bat a small figure beside him.
He is owned by Richard Tregaskis and '$jg?
can trot a mile in four-minutes. "**
It seems a pity that there will be
none of his progeny. He was imported
from France by a Kentucky horseicreeder,
who paid $5,000 for him. K yj
When put in the stud the animal became
a veritable fiend. He would kick
ind bite on the slightest provocation
ind no one could do anything with
iim. He soon killed one attendant
ind a short time after another man fell
i victim to the vicious brute. The death
)f these two men caused the owner to
change the animal into a gelding and
with good effect, his temper being
greatly improved.?Detroit Free Press.
10 1
I&" The extermination of the mosquito
is again promised, this time by a
French scientist and electrician. His
apparatus is a large cage of closely interwoven
wires, in the centre of which
s an incandescent lamp. The wires of
the cage are connected with a battery
which keeps them charged. When the
cage is set at night in a place infested
with mosquitoes, they flock in swarms
to the light, and, passing between the
wires, receive a shock which kills them
nstantly. The tiny sparks which flash
out as each insect dies makes the region
round about and inside of the cage
a mass of scintillating light; and in
the morning bushels of dead mosquitoes
can be swept up underneath. The
plan will prove a gold mine to the seaside
towns which first adopt it, and
can advertise that "mosquitoes are all
electrocuted, instead of having to be
killed by the tedious, old-fashioned
methods so long practiced with indifferent
success by summer boarders ih
rival watering places."
Value of Good Watee.?The 'importance
of pure water for stock will
readily appear when we consider that
this element constitutes about 70 per
cent, of the entire animal, and not less
than 87 per cent, of milk. It is plain
that if 70 per cent, of an animal's body
is impure water filled with genns of disease
and inorganic vileness, that neither
the flesh nor the milk can he
wholesome food for man. Just how
much of our prevalent liver and kidaey
disorders, dyspepsias, malignant
fevers dysenteries, infectious diseases
and the numerous and fatal diseases of
children are attributable to this cause
cannot be accurately known. Analogical
reasoning and the deductions of
plain common sense, however, impress
us that many of our physical ills originate
in the filthy mud-holes from which
our stock obtain their drinking water.
?Texas Farm and Ranch.
AST One of the peculiarities of the
telegraph business is illustrated by a '
portfolio in the possession of Mr. Geo.
Ryley, superintendent of construction
of the Western Union Telegraph company.
It is made up of f^c-similes of
all the telegraph poles in the Sixth
district, which comprises the States of
New Jersey, Maryland, and that portion
of Pennsylvania east of the Alleghany
mountains. Each pole is perfectly
reproduced in pen and ink, showing
the number of cross-bars, together
with the different wires attached, each
_A* 1. ! -L ? ? ?? Wknn io
I WHICH 13 UUUiUClCU. (luvu > ?. >/ .?
trouble with any of the wires in the
district, it is an easy matter for Mr.
Cyley to direct a lineman to the spot
in need of repair in a very short space
of time.
An Oddity Showing a Law in
Optics.?Here is a very singular illustration
of the optical delusion which a
change of position will sometimes effect.
Take a row of ordinary capital letters
aud figures.
SSSSSSXXXXXX333333888888
They are such as are made up of
equal shapes. Look carefully at these
and you will perceive that the upper
halves of the characters are a very little
smaller than the lower halves?so
little that an ordinary eye declares
them to be of equal size. Now turn
the paper upside down and, without
careful looking, you will see that this
distance in size is very much exaggerated
; that the real top half of the letter is
very much smaller than the bottcfai
half.?London Tit Bits.
Sfiy Long ago Joseph Wharton explained
that when the sap ceases to
How in the fall, and the natural growth
of the tree ceases, oxidation in the
leaves takes place. Under this oxidation
the leaves change to red, or, with
a slight change of the condition, it
might be yellow or brown. This, however,
is the only chemical explanation,
says Median's Monthly. Life, or, as
we would say, vital power, has to bear
apart. If a branch is entirly cutoff
from the main plant no change of color
occurs. On the other hand, if a branch
is injured, though not entirely cut off
from the tree, a change of color takes
place, even if it be midsummer. In
other words, chemistry alone cannot
account for the bright colors of autumn
foliage; the mysterious power we call
life has to work at the same time.
8fc??" The following American war
ships arc now engaged in making, or
are about to make, long passages in
different parts of the world : Chat lesion,
en route from San Francisco to
Hongkong; Lancaster, New YOrk to
Hongkong ; Marion and Alert, Behring
sea to Hongkong; Iroquois, Sandwich
Islands to Samoa, at which latter place
she is probably now; training ships
Portsmouth and Jamestown, England
to United States; also frigate Pensarola
preparing to sail from San Francisco
to Honirkong.
BttT" It appears that comparatively
little baggage is lost or injured on the
railroads, notwithstanding the imprecations
heaped upon baggage smashers.
The figures of the Union depot at Chicago
show last year nearly 1)00,000
pieces of baggage were handled inside
the depot. Besides this there were
00,000 tons of mail and 300,000 packages,
boxes, etc., not counting a vast
amount of train mail. Ami yet in
handling all this stuff, the damage accruing
from breakage, going astray and
theft, amounted to less than $150.
BaT The average number of American
patents issued yearly is about 20,000.
England, which comes nearest
to us, issues only about 4,000 to 5,000
a year, and its system is very much
more lax than ours. Patents are issued
without any conditions as to novelty or
merit, and no 2 applications in 100 are
rejected. In Prussia the number granted
annually is less than 100; in Belgium,
1,500 to 2,000.