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i-kwis m. grist, Proprietor. j ^ii Jndcpendent ^aniilij Dcicspaptr: Jw the ?romotion of the folitical, Social, ^jriniltiiral and (fi.oinmfi;riat Jntercsts of the J>outh. j TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR in ADVANCE. VOL. 39. YOBKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOYEMEEJt 15, 1893. MO. 43. ROBERT! A DRAMATIC AND ' SYNOPSIS. On apt Kit I?Robert Mueaire, a vagabond criminal, strolls into the secludes village of Chariuont-sur-Pont and wind for a bride Marie Heaumont, the prettiest girl in the place and the daughter of the wealthiest farmer. Oiiaptkr II?The lucky rascal carries things with a high hand and stirs up jealousy among rivals suitors for Marie. Pierre Lamar quarrels with him and mysteriously disappears. Oiiaptkr II I?Macaire dogs his fatherin-law's steps and sees him bury gold. Mario is also alert, suspects her husband and secretly removes the treasure. Oiiaptkr IV?The three are at cross purposes over the hidden treasure, and Marie retains it on her person. Pierre Lamar's IkxIv is discovered, and Heaumont misses his money. Oiiaptkr V?Marie confesses theft, vaiiuy trying 10 wnni on sus1 : h?ii mnu the man she loves. CHAPTER VI. THE ESCAPE. The sergeant of the gendarmes now took a decisive attitude. Calling to the men under him, he ordered them to arrest both Marie and her husband, as it would be necessary to bring them before the magistrate of the commune. Mme. Beaumont protested vigorously. Her poor child was in no fit condition for a journey; that there was no charge against her that would warrant such a thing; that her father would not prefer the charge against his own child; that the whole thing was a mistake; that if any harm should happen to Marie it would be a murder?nothing but a murder?and that he, the gendarme, would be the murderer, and for all his smooth ways and words that they all knew now to be false would hereafter perish in everlasting torment, for that the le bon Dicu was just and would not suffer such things. A thousand such things the poor soul said in her distraction, to the 'satisfaction of the neighbors and to the growing anger of the other gendarmes, who would fain have resented them in some forcible way. But the sergeant was a strong and masterful man and knew how to keep his subordinates in order. He was himself full of pity for poor Marie, but he believed that she was screening some one?most probably her husband, to whom he had taken a strong aversion. There is generally an instinctive feeling against the other on the part of both the predatory man and the man of the law. ! Besides all this there was the mystery of the death of Pierre Lamar to be cleared up, and the sergeant had somehow got it into his head that in some way or other Robert Macaire was con- | cerned in the matter. He had not got any ostensible ground for the belief, so I he did not venture to even hint as yet at such a thing, but he had every intention of following up the train. He had fully made up his mind to keep his eye on him, and he was not satisfied how it was that a man so different from oil arnnTid Viim hn/1 nr\ma fn K) in this little unknown village. Indeed j were the most secret thoughts of the astute gendarme known ? not those which had actually found a voice to his ' own suspicion, but those which as yet his instinct had not revealed to his reason?it would have been found that he half suspected him of being in the category of "wanted." Robert tried at the first go off to take a high hand in the matter and claimed the righfs of a citizen, but the sergeant i took such a prompt and decided view in the opposite direction that he quickly succumbed to the inevitable and determined to trust to the chapter of accidents, the more so as the views of the j gendarmes were accompanied with ap- i propriate action in the shape of manacles, j The party that set out over the moun- j tain path that afternoon was a sad one [ indeed. Marie was quito broken down witji grief and pain. She had not even the consolation of a kind word, for Rob- j ert not only kept scowling at her all the time, and treating even any direct ques- i firm wViinh bVia michtask him with silent contempt, but he resented her speaking to any of the gendarmes, who now and again proffered some little kindness of | speech or action. fD TtSt I The party that set ou* over the mountain path that afternoon uas a sad one. Moreover, tho cart which carried her carried also a ghastly burden, the remains of i>oor Pierre, which had been found at the foot of the precipice and which the sergeant thought might be necessary for his later investigations. It was late in the afternoon when they started, so that the sun was beginning to throw long shadows through the mountains when they had reached the scene of Pierre's death. When they had arrived at the fatal ledge, the sergeant culled to them to stop. Then he pointed out to the others the disposition of the ground and made a rough sketch of the place, remarking to Robert, in a voice of casual unconcern, which chilled his wife's heart: "The juge de paix will require you to tell how and where you passed the night that Pierre Lamar left his home and why you predicted that ho would go for a soldier and would probably never be heard of again unless he got promotion." <- Robert made no answer, but scrowled at his wife when no one was looking in a way that boded ill for her happiness and even for her safety in case he should have her in his power. The night seemed endless. The rude cart bumped and shook to a degree that would have rendered sleep impossible under the most favorable conditions. The gendarmes walked stolidly along, i ; ?i? v.?*. * itet'piiig ivuuci t ai?aj o uctwccii tvvuui them, for they seemed to fear that at any moment he might make an effort to escape. As for poor Marie, they took little heed, for they never thought for an instant that it would bo possible for her to make the necessary effort. When the morning broke, cold and gray, and a wider range of country was under their view, the gendarmes relaxed their vigilance so far as to let Robert walk behind the cart, holding on to its back as they ascended a hill. Hitherto there had been to Marie a hideous and ever increasing doubt as to her husband's guilt as regarded the death of Pierre, but his attitude the very instant he got an opportunity of saying a word to her in private turned the doubt into an appalling certainty. When his face came opposite the opening of the curtains of the tilted cart, she was struck with the expression which she saw there?an expression quite different from any that she had ever before seen there. It was one of brutal, unmitigated ferocity, such a look as the galleys or the hulks only can produce. When a man descends in the scale of humanity to his very lowest, he can be, where his safety is concerned, more calp lous than even the bru.'es. The better MACAIRE. THRILLING STORY. ' qualities of mind and heart can disappear altogether, and the relentless in- ! stinct of self preservation can be seen in j I all its possible baseness. Such was the look which met poor Ala- j rie's sleep forsaken eyes as they sought for some gleam of hope in the gladness of the morning and chilled her to a pitch j I requisite to hear unmoved the terrible confirmation of her fears. She hardly knew her husband in the j cruel looking, remorseless wretch who glared at her and spoke in a fierce : whisper: I "Do you hear? I must getaway somehow or they will sottlo me for that affair of Lamar. Yuu must do it for me. I I shall make some excuse to get into the cart. Be ready to change clothes with i me. Then put out your head and ask to be allowed to walk a bit. Then lie close, ! no matter what happens, or it will be > worse for us both." She attempted to remonstrate with him, but with a terrible oath fiercely j whispered at her he enforced his order. Half paralyzed with this new fear, she I heard him ask the sergeant to let him rest in the cart for a bit, as he was tired to death and chilled with the cold. The sergeant consented with a con| temptuous oath, but refused to stop the j cart. So with a clumsiness quite unusual : to him, for he was a man of great strength 1 and activity, he half scrambled, half I tumbled into the cart, breathing male- ! dictions on everybody and everything. i , Once in the cart and hidden from the : j view of the gendarmes the change was | easily effected, and with Marie's petti- j i coat and cloak over his own clothes he j was ready for the next step of the es- ' j cape. By his instructions Marie, with her little shawl over her head and her j body hidden in the interior of the cart, asked the sergeant to let her walk for a i ! little while, as her limbs were cramped j with sitting so long in the cart. The sergeant could see no harm in so simple a request, 60 told the driver to stop j for a moment while she got out. But at the very moment that the cart stopped Robert slipped down in her stead, im- j itating, with a skill that showed that ' at some time he must have l>een an actor, the peculiarity of her gait, so that the soldiers never suspected there was any I trick on hand. For awhile he walked behind the cart holding on as if to aid in walking. But after awhile he began to fall behind. Now and again the sergeant looked back to see as iu duty bound that his prisoner was still there. One of the others asked him if he should not make her hurry up, but he answered that it was all right, as the man was safe in the cart and that the woman could not go far. fAmn litflii fimo fliov tirnrrwicuflil Jl VI OVXXAW 4UV4V V*u*v VMV^ v^? vuuvu in this fashion. Marie's state of mind } was terrible, and she only longed for j death to put an end to her sufferings, j All the light seemed to have gone out of her life. As yet 6he could not realize , the blow that had fallen?her husband a murderer, herself arrested as a thief j and even now on the way to some un- j known peril, while the author of it all, j the man whom she had loved and loved j still in spite of all, treating her not even J with a cold indifference, but harshly, and threatening her. When the cart 60ine little time after , came near a wood which stretched for many a league around ntfray to the fron- j tier, the sergeant tnnw4 mouim! to. tell . his female prisoner that it was time to get back into the cart or to come again : into line with the rest of the party. He j could not see her. With a quick rush I he ran to the cart and dragged back the ' curtaip, calling: "What does this mean? If your wife j has escaped, it will be the worse for you. Get up, you lazy"? Here he started back in amazement, for his eyes met those of Marie, dilated with fear. "Sacrel' ho called to the others, "he j ! has escaped! Run, mes enfants. Quick! , : He cannot be far. He was here but a ; moment ago. Do not hesitate to shoot if he does not stop at the word." The gendarmes ran back and scoured the road right and left, but all in vain, for Robert Macaire had broken from prison and escaped from custody too often to be caught napping when there was a chance to escai>e. He was already safe . in the wood and under cover of its shelter, putting each moment a great dis- I ! a i??/i i,;? IttllUU uctwccu HiaiOCll UUU MB puiouu^, while they were vainly searching for him on the ground which he had passed over. Seeing that search was in vain, and that the only chance of recapturing hint 1 was by raising the hue and cry from the Btation, the sergeant called his men back. They came, naturally enough thoroughly angry at the way in which they had I been tricked and vowing vengeance on Robert Macaire in case they should ever lay their hands upon him again. The sergeant said nothing to Marie for awhile. He was a merciful man according to his lights, and he knew it would only cause her more pain without doing her any good, and ho felt that it was only natural for a woman to help her husband under the circumstances. Besides, he I was not at all sure in his mind from the [ : first that she was guilty. He could see that there was some mystery on foot, and he thought that in all probability she was npt the most guilty party in whatever ill doing was on hand. Presently, how- ' ever, he came to the cart and said to her ! gently enough: "I wanted to treat you as kindly as I could. You mustn't blame me if there is any rigor shown to you after what hus happened. Poor soul! I pity you from the bottom of my heart. And you so young, too?little more than a child. 1 have girls of my own, and who kndws but some day they may need a friend or some hand of pity stretched out to them? Well, there! he's a worthless wretch to my thinking, and perhaps you're well rid of him?but he has escaped, and we are so near the frontier that if he is decently careful he may get away all right, so don't fret yourself about any danger coming to him, but keep your strength for what you have soon to go through." This kindliness was too much for poor Mario after all tho bitterness she had ; gone through. A floodtide of gratitude rushed to her heart, and with a rush of tears she bent over and kissed the rugged hand that lay on the back of the cart as the old soldier walked along trying to comfort her. From thenceforth Marie had a stanch ftiend in the old sergeant, who made up his mind that he would aid her all lie could within tho line of his duty. CHAPTER VII. AT THE SHRINE. After a few hours inoro journeying the party reached their destination. For ! Marie it was a time of blessed peace, for the kind words of the scnreant had brought her such relief that wearied ( nature asserted her power, and she slept, j So weary was she that she lay as one dead, and even bad dreams came not to her. The road had got somewhat j smoother as they drew nearer to the valley, so that she was less jolted than had J been the experience hitherto on the jour- j nev. When they arrived at the gendarmerie, the sergeant would not have Mario awakened. "Let her sleep, poor soul, j while she can," ho said. So a couple of men lifted without awakening her and j placed her in a room, where the ser- i geant's wife had her laid on a bed as 1 good as was to bo had. Tho door was i locked, and she was left alone to sleep until tho morning, when sho was to bo taken beforo the magistrate. When sho awoke, after a long sleep, tho sergeant's wife gave her a comfortable meal, and in many little ways such as kind women know helped to ease her . distress. I In the morning she was taken before j the magistrate and charged with the theft of the money. Of course the sergeant had to tell the story of the escape of i the other prisoner. Those in the court- < room wero much interested in the recital, | and when his description was given one of I the gendarmes who had newly come to < the station said: ? "That must he the very man who cs- i caped from the galleys at Marseilles i after killing two of the guards." ( i He was immediately interrogated as 1 to the antecedents of the murderer, and Marie had to listen while the whole cat- ! 1 alogue of her husband's iniquity was unfolded. With growing horror she learned i that ho had been many times in prison, I from which ho had by some trick or sub- ] terfuge escaped on each occasion; that ! he was a criminal of the deepest dye < ?remorseless, pitiless, cruel; that his 1 want of gratitude to those who had ; UoVftil V%-?TVk liia fiwoo f\f irnnhlft VifL#1 ( UC/i^U A44AA* tii UUJ v? ..??? alienated even those who had clung to I him the longest; that he had been accused of several murders and suspected of many more, but that his cunning had been such that he had been able to prove on nearly every occasion that tho guilt had rested with some of his dupes; that he had never hesitated to betray his fel- | lows and accomplices when it had ! served his purpose. In tho opinion of the speaker thero was not so black a criminal in tho whole roll of crime. ' Finally he had been convicted on a charge of murder and condemned to the galleys for life. Ho had been in tho gang at Marseilles for only a short time when he had escaped by an effort of des- i perato courage, having in tho doing so 1 murdered two of the guards under cir- . cumstances of peculiar atrocity. When the recital had come to an end, the magistrate said that so far as the charge of tho theft was concerned he would have been content to let it lie over until a later time had there not been di s rect evidence of tho woman having taken the money and its being discovered in her possession. As from the fact of her husband being such a desperate character it would have been presumably as a J tool in his hands that she had committed 1 the theft. As, however, ho had escaped ; t with her assistance, it would be neces- t sary that she should be held in custody c for both charges?that of the crime with ^ which she was charged and the addi- t tional one of conniving with and aiding c in the escape of an arrested forcat. "At the same time," said tho magistrate, "on * account of the prisoner's extreme youth ' and owing to the urgency of her condi- , tion, and further relying on the fact that c she may have on her trial some explana- . tion to give which may mitigate in the 1 Awflfl r\f nnnrf hor mnrnl ^oli'nnnnTi/iv C CJVO Vfc I-MV Wi**v "V. vAVi.M^uv.ivj in the matter, I am willing that every kind of personal consideration should he c shown to her consistent with her safe cus- \ tody." a The hint of the magistrate was nut ^ lost on the sergeant or his kind hearted 0 wife, and when sho returned with them 11 to the gendarmerie they shared with her J whatever comforts they themselves pos- a sessed. But though sho had some measure of comfort her state of mind was pitiablo ^ in the extreme. At ono fell blow she had n lost all that earth had to give her?hus- a band?for was not tne discovery of his v true character worse than death??father ? mother, home, friends, honest name, all a that makes the happiness of life. Nay, j S was she not even at the moment a prisoner on a criminal charge? A prisoner, j " so that her child must bo born in prison " and be stained for all its life with the ^ prison taint! o The idea appalled her, and in the great j ^ anguish of her soul a wild idea came to Efer. 5H0 vroum rtnr away if she could ' ^ from the prison. She had every oppor- " tunity, for the room she occupied was n not even locked, 6inco no ono thought it possible that sho could even mako an at- 1 tempt to escape. She would seek a shel- , " ter somewhere?any where?in her trou- v ble. She might die, starve or perish : v from the cold, but death had no terrors v for her. All she hoped was that her 6 child would not bo born in the prison. I1 She felt that if she could once get out y into the free air, no matter where, her " little one might escape the prison taint? a that it might not be cursed with the sins 81 of its father or with her own unhappi- | n ness. v While the thought was upon her she rose up and stole to the door. It was c night. Not a sound was to be heard Q save the gentle rustling of the trees. She lJ was a mountain bred girl, and the sound j v ?this voice of nature to which sho was a accustomed coming through tho still- v ness?brought an unutterablo relief to her soul. A sense of freedom came to e' her through all the pains that racked her. ' ^ She passed into the night and fled on n her way with one blind hope ever before her?that her child should not bear tho > ? prison taint. h As the morning was breaking she found e herself close to a little wayside 6hrine. v Her strength was going fast, but tho c sight gave lmr renewed energy. As sho s; looked through the grating that guarded ? it in front she saw the figuro of the di- 11 vine mother, and her heart gave a glad throb as she sank to her knees in the dust and bowed her weary head while v Bho prayed. She felt no fear now. With c that divine image of motherhood and 0 suffering before her she felt that her ? prayer was heard, and that her child would bo free from the curse of its fa- a therhood. There alone, save for what . she felt to be tho presence of the Mother of Sorrows, she endured all the pangs of j. her maternity. . . As tho light grew in the east her thoughts hovered between the child that lay upon her breast and that other Child whose star was seen in the eastern sky so ? many centuries ago, and the solace of ^ her ]>ain came in the joy that a man was ^ born into tho world. ^ ^ J "H. ;; * ? t sr." . ( ? ... _ .. i 41.., ,...,7 t, ?>/(C Sllllli III Iter lillirH III mv utini UIIII ilineal her weni'ii haul while she jn ni/al. As the morning grew, however, a new li fear began to assail her. She thought S that she might be captured and taken a back to the prison again. Tho fear that, ti after all, her son might yet get tho taint v of tho prison gave her strength to stir y herself, and she looked around her eagerly for some clew through the maze of t< doubts beforo her. She thought that e tho best thing that she could do was s: to put her child some place where it d would bo taken care of and where it 1< would never know the sufferings or tho despair of his poor mother or his father's 1 shame. The thought of leaving him almost broke her heart. ?Sho faltered in a tier Tiiiriin^e 0 Suddenly she listened. There was tho v sound of a horse's feet quietly cantering. The thought came to her like an inspiration that it could not he any one pursu- y ing her, or tho paeo would have been ' quicker. Slio made up her mind?she t would trust her child to the mercy of this stranger. fi] Hastily wrapping him in her woolen n shawl, she laid him tenderly at tho foot tl of the shrine, after kissing him with passionate fervor, and hurriedly hid herself v in a clump of trees that grew thickly around the shrine. ( si The horseman approached at an easi pace. She peered out eagerly througi tho leaves to see to what, kind of persoi sho was about to trust tho fate of hei child. Ho had thrown tho rein on tho horse'i neck and was to all seeming unconscioui Df what went on around him. Ho wu: evidently in some deep distress, for tin tears wero rolling down his cheeks. Thi mother's heart grew glad, for the eye: seldom weep when the heart is hard. Ai lie drew near, the child, which missed tin warmth of its mother's breast, gave t Feeblo cry. The horseman instantly stopped, anc it struck Mario with surprise that hii first glance was upward, as if he sup posed that the voice had come from th< sky. She understood the reason, how jver, with a gush of thankfulness frou tier motherly heart when she saw bin jump from his horse and rush to the fooi af the shrine, where he fell on his knee: mil raised the baby tenderly in his arms is ho exclaimed through his tears: "Tho good God has pity on my loneli ness and sends me this little one that ] may cherish him in the stead of mylitth Charles. Look down today on me, mj young wife, from your high place beyonr :ho stars. See for your sake and that oi >ur little Charles, whom I laid in the iarth on your breast so little while ago, [ take this little one whom its parents lavo abandoned to bo my son." Mario sank to the ground with a heart :ull of gratitude, and as the strangei rode away holding the child in his arm? die bowed her head in her hands and (aid: "They may take me to the prison now f they like. They are sure to seek foi lie, and if they seek they must find me, 'or my strength is gone. To thou, Mother of Sorrows, helper of the afflict;d, be tho praiso of my tears today, foi hou hast guided my footsteps to this ipot and hath rescued my child." CHAPTER VIII. AFTER LONG YEARS. In all tho department of the Saone-et^oiro there was no man more generally iked and respected than M. Dumont, he proprietor of Les lions Amis, a hriving auborgo which stood in the >utskirts of tho village of Simard, just vhere the highroad to Montret passes ho end of the lane leading to the old :lmrch. M. Dumont was a widower, having ost his wife some 120 years before. They lad gone to Marseilles to see her father, icr only remaining relative, who was lying. The fatigue of tho journey had >een too much for her, and 6he had died n giving birth to a son, their first and ?nly child. Having laid his young wife and her >ld father side by side, M. Dumont reurned to Los Bons Amis with a little lark eyed infant, a few weeks old, to bo lenceforward tho great joy and interest { his life, for he never thought of reaarrying, but devoted himself to the (ringing up of his child and the care of lis inn and his farm. In course of time the little delicato aby grew up to be a tall, strong young .ian, the pride and joy of his father, the pple of his eye. He was a general faorite with old and young, while his genie manners and soft dark eyes made iin specially popular among the young iris of the surrounding villages. Things had all gone well with M. Dulont, and at the time of which we write e was a very prosperous man, as he well eserved to be, for he was always generus and ready to help his poorer neighors. An air of well being pervaded every llufa llOUUl?LliU tllUMU llllfl (UIH1I Vila driving fields of golden grain, now allost ready for tho sickle, were a picture 3 behold, while rows of great pot bellied ellow courges lined the furrows. From ruuk to trunk of the slender poplars ere festooned the carefully cultivated ines, already showing promise of a good mtage and a ousy 111110 rur me voiiuuneurs who a little later would gather the urple fruit and tread it out in yonder arns, with many a laugh and jest, for 1 those days when the century was still ut young such simple methods were till practiced, and modern improveicnts were quite unknown in that quiet illago in the heart of France. Tho auberge itself was a picturesque Id building, with high peaked roof and uaint little dormer windows lighting lie spacious roomy grenier, where the ,-inter store of fruit was kept?apples nd pears and nuts of various kinds, ,'hile from lines stretching from rafter 0 rafter were hung bunches of grapes, aoh bunch snugly ensconced in its own ag and carefully separated from its eighbor. And the kitchen?kitchen but in name, or 110 rough work was ever done there? ow comfortable it was and liow pictursque, with its deep fireplace, where in ,-inter time great logs blazed and rackled, its roof hung with well moked hams and many a bunch of weet and savory herbs and pepper pods, :s rows of shining flagons and well pre?rved quaint old china and earthenware, :s polished oaken tables and settles, the ivid color of its red tiled floor! In the orner by the fireplace was the picture f tho Virgin, with a jug of fresh flowers n the little carved bracket beneath it, or they were pious, these simple people, nd tho Virgin never was without her ttlo offering. Up stairs what piles of soft wool matresses, with store of snowy homespun lien sheets and cozy blankets! Then the est room, with its armoire a glace, its cd damask covered chairs and sofa in tie style of the first empire, tho tall ilt framed mirror over the chimney, the roups of wax ami paper flowers under lass shades, and on the wall facing tho ,-widow the portraits of M. Dumontand is wife, taken when they were first mariod. Thero was not a girl in tho comluno who did not envy the future inisress of that room, for Charles, tho only on of M. Dmnont had made his choice, ml the pretty, hloml, blue eyed Clemntino Germenil was to be the future listress of Les Bons Amis. M. Germenil was a wealthy farmer ,-ho lived at Brocard, on the borders of ho forest of La Murche, some miles on he other side of Siinunl. Ho was an old rieml and crony of M. Dumont?a warm nan, too?who could give his only daugher a nice bit of money. The two old icn had long planned this marriage and ad watched with satisfaction tho growng affection between the young people, ml hardly a Sunday morning passed hat did not see the carriole of M. Garlenil, with its owner driving and his aughter beside him, arrive at Les Bons Linis just as the bells began to ring for lie midday service. The carriole was hen put up, and the four set off together o tho church. M. Germenil pretended that he liked otter the preaching of tho good euro of iiuard than that of the euro of Brocard, ml that was why ho came. But for all hat every one knew quite well that it ,-as but a cunning devico to give tho oung folks an opportunity of meeting. Charles was a little shy, but at hist jok courage and sluice as ho and Clemntine walked home from church side by ido under the tall poplars which borered the stream, while the elders folDwed slowly at a dis..-root distance. "Clementine!" "Yes, Charles?" A long pause, during which she gives sidelong glance at him out ol' her blue yes, having a pretty correct idea as to rliat he is trying to say. "Clementine!" "Well, Charles, what is it? Why do on repeat my name like that?" "Because?because? Dear Clemenine, may I speak to your father?" "Sneak to mv father! Whv. of course!" lio replies, perversely pretending to lisunderstuml liim. "I hope you don't [link I wish to monopolize you!" "You know what I mean, Clementine, . hen I ask you may I speak to liim!" "Indeed, I don't, M. Charles. IIow hould I?" ! "I lovo you, Clementine, and 1 want ' 1 you to let 1110 ask your father's consent i j to our marriage. You know I love you, r and that in my eyes tliero is no girl in all , the country to compare to you. If you 1 3 refuse me, I will never marry any ene. 3 Say you lovo me a little, Clementine, and 3 that you will be my wife!" I ' "Say you love me a little, Clementine." i "I don't know, M. Charles! And what j I about Jeanne du moulin?" ' i "Jeanne du moulin I What is she to > 1 me, Clementine?" "Oh, well, you danced with her often I I enough at the fete last week, and then j you" Charles interrupted her, crying: ! "If I spoke to her at all, it was only I : because you made me angry by your ! civility to that great lout Francois." 1 I "I don't know why you should call j him a 'lout!' I am sure ho is very gentil I to me always." "Well, don't let us quarrel about him, 1 I Clementine, only tell me you like me ! ' | well enough to give me leave to ask your I father's consent to our marriage, and there won't bo a happier or a prouder 1 man in all France. Speak, dear Clemen1 tine. You know how much I love you j and know mv father wishes for no dauerh 1 ter but you." 1 "Well, Charles, I do like you very much, and perhaps after a time?a long j time, you know?wo might?get?mar- i ried." "And I may tell your father now, may j 1 1 not?" "Well, yes, since you are so persistent!" j And so it was all settled, and thero I was much rejoicing when on their nr- j rival at tho inn Charles told what had , happened and made his request. "With all my heart, mon garcon," said Germenil. "I have longed wished this. A good, steady lad like you is just the j husband for my girl. Your father and myself have talked it over many a time. But, Sapristi, we began to think you would never make up your mind to speak. Eh, Neighbor Dumont?" "The boy has been my right hand and ! comfort this many a year," said Dumont, I "and now he brings me the daughter I , desired, and their little children will i cheer my old age. On the day he marries, neighbor, he will become the owner ; of this inn, and when I die he will inherit all my savings." "Oh, father!" exclaimed Charles, tears ! standing in his dark eyes. "And I," said Germenil, "will give ! Clementine a dot of 12,000 francs, and at i my death? But there, we are not going I to die yet, my old friend. We must not ! ?frmd; that Morn u-a diqjQ-^.linvfi. tfwdance at the weddings of our grandchiT- j dren. Eh, old crony?" And tho two old I men laughed, while Charles and Clementine looked away. "Wo have many a hearty year before us, I trust." It was then urranged that M. Germenil and his daughter should como to Lcs Bons Amis tho following Wednesday. The contract should then bo signed and the wedding take place tho next day. | TO UK OONTINt'KH XKXT WKKK. | WHAI A MUUtm U\U. A Buoy Community Found Time to Go to i u Greut Deal of Trouble. It was a sweet Juno day in town. The j hour was on the stroke of 10. The peo- j pie of Amsterdam avenue had breakfasted and were gazing from the windows of the six story flats upon the j steam drill, the shovelers, tho blasters, j. the masons, the roofers, tho hodcarriers, tho iron workers and tho other similar ! characteristics of that booming neigh- ! , borliood. Tho distant hum of the great ; business city seemed to come purring { , among the solid rows of brownstone palaces like the sounds from a sleeping 1 kitten, anon rising above the nearer sounds of tho builder. Nature appeared to smile ui>on busy man and to graciously approve of his industry. Tho sun shone upon not a single visible idler. Upon this scene a little, innocent, li inch mouse obtruded. Ho had come from somo debris of the morning and frightened by his own temerity or calculating on tho general occupation to pass unnoticed hurriedly sought to cross the road. A grocer's boy forgot his lazy gait, quickly dropped his basket and dashed after tho terror of elephants and women. A driver stopjied his cart and jumped down and headed tho fleeing animal off. He struck wildly ut him with his whip, and the grocer's boy yelled with pain. Four men at work on a new excavation joined in the chase, and two shovels were smashed to fragments on the stones. Work on nil tlin ndinceilt buildiinrs ceased, and i>eople came out from tho stores and markets and took a hand in the scrimmage. They butted against one another and stamped on each other's toes 1 in attempting to put an end to his frightened mouseship. 1 In tiV: meantime tho latter, so everlastingly scared that it had im wit left, ran about in a circle and this way and that, untouched, from tho sheer multiplicity of its pursuers. Getting nearer the op- 1 positecurb it finally discovered the friendly grocer boy's basket and made a break ! i tor it. So did tho now frantic mob. In 1 two seconds the walk was strewn with green peas, tomatoes, cucumbers and ' > other garden truck. One man who had uo part in any of this stepped on a tomato and fell with force enough to break | every bone in his body, but only spoiled I a suit of clothes. Tho grocer himself ran out and kicked the boy for setting down the basket. The whole neighborhood was excited and demoralized. The mouse got away. Evading tho kicks and blows of a dozen men and 20 | boys, it dashed into a cellar head first. It ! had found tho world pi 2tty busy, but not too busy to knock off and give a mouse a little exercise.?New York Herald. A I''Iorl?ti? FIhIi Story. 1 ! A prominent Pittsburg business man, , who with his family spent a winter at ; Lake Worth, Fla., has this story to tell, ' which, unlike fish stories generally, is true, every word of it: Along the coasts of southern Florida sharks were unusuj ally abundant during the winter. As a rule, they keep well out to sea, but that winter they ventured closer to shore than j usual. Our party succeeded in catching one. When we hooked hiin.it looked at first more like his taking us to sea than our drawing him to shore. But we gave him rope until in time ho exhausted himself, and bv one long, 1 11 ft*. ,,tl nil ) ?" ?"?? I""' v. , in landing the shark on toe beach. The j 1 ladies of the party beat a masterly re- * ' treat, fearing the fate of Jonah. Tho | 1 1 shark uninsured 0 feet in length, and ac- , ' I cording to the opinion of natives weighed J about 400 ]iouiuis. He was of no value J for food. With the exception of tho j glory of catching such a fish, the only 1 ! result from that fishing expedition was j a cane made of the shark's spinal column, ' | which one of our party carries at this I j time.?Exchange. | I IHisccUancous grading. SPOTS AM) KL'TI RKS. A HI'MORors VIKW OK COTTON Sl'KCfI.ATION. When the heart is full and the brain teems with sorrows, there is nothing so soothing as cotton. Its chief recommendation is that it is as clear as noonday. There is no painful figuring about it. Railroad stocks, mortgages, income bonds, construction company shares, wheat, pork, lard, and other real and transferable things are too complicated for pleasure and too uncertain for business, unless one gives his whole mind to them. They are like chess; not a recreation, but a wearying labor. The "dolce far niente" of speculation is to be found in cotton. Nothing could be simpler. Two minutes with your broker does it. The unit is one hundred bales, just as in stocks it is one hundred shares. You take a hundred, say, of "September." It may be 11.8:5 or 11.89, or anywhere along there?that doesn't matter?the main thing is to get in at something. The "margin" is $2 a bale, and your brokeais charges, say, $25. The "ante," then, to borrow a convenient term from a kindred diversion, is $225. At this point the sport begins. You have nothing to do but watch the tape, the morning and evening papers through all their editions and extras, the bulletins and reports of the Department of Agriculture, the bulletins from all the cotton exchanges in the country, the shipping movements, ocean freights, Surats, mill takings, the weather, the cotton worm, and the guano trade. Of course, you must be already familiar with the condition of each of these things for everyday of the past five seasons. The game is based almost wholly on comparisons, and to be a master of the data implies incomplete preparation. This technique is petty, of course, but essential. Before going into cotton one ought to be able to take the worm aud guano statistics, acreage, condition, forward movement, port receipts and any good estimate of the probable size of the "city crop," at a glance, in the twinkling of an eye, unerringly foretell the number of bales in the year's crop; anil incidentally it may he added that the ability to foretell next year's crop with equal precision is a gift of 110 mean value. Leave "hammering" to the cotton exchange folks and the professional speculators. It is their business to magnify or minimize the crop as their interests dictate. A speculator who has sold half a dozen coming months is certain that the top crop and late pickings will show the season's yield to be not only abundant hut excessive, while the gentlemen who buys is secretly confident that unprecedented takings for Liverpool and the Continent, coupled with an enormous demand for the New Ktiglund mills, will 1 practically exhaust a crop that is at the very least a million bales short, j But the indecent lust for gain is the ruling passion. Let the amateur speculator be content to take the fruit as it drops into his lap. What can he, with his puny one hundred bales, do to ufl'ect the market ? He would be outlined at every point, and in these matters a sense of inferiority is humil- ! i&aP;. Ms - %??. %#-! nave SuICT TTgaTa I\Ji iliCl* uiuial , natures and confine themselves to the : innocent watching of the tape, the bulletins, port receipts, etc. The perfect case with which the profits or loss resulting from the market fluctuations is computed is the j supreme charm of cotton speculation. | The changes are registered in cents and hundredths of a cent per pound, j The hundredths arc called "points," and on a hundred bale investment each one of these points represent $4..r>0 For instance, some East Haddam or Glastonbury gentleman, with a little i money and plenty of leisure, reads this article and comes down to take a hand in the pleasing diversion. He buys, not one hundred, but five hundred bales, and takes a seat by the "ticker." It happens to be an afternoon , on which the discovery is made that j the cotton crop has been bought four ' or five times over by the speculators, and about 2.30 o'clock there is a sudden tumble of say 20 points. The Connecticut amateur hastily does something of this kind on the back of ; an envelope : $4.50 x 5 is $22.50 x 20 | is $595. Now, as a matter of strict j mathematics, this is ten dollars out of the way, but the nervous cipherer is never quite respectful toward the mul- , tiplication table ; besides, this particular Connecticut gentleman is probably in some worry lest he may miss the last train for East Haddam. This purely imaginary example illustrates the astonishing ease with which losses on cotton futures may be reckoned. Another winning feature of this i fascinating recreation is the delightful uncertainty about the cotton you are J buying, supposing, of course That you leave vulgar "spots" to men who want cotton to make bags or shirts of, and confine yourself to the idyllic "futures." It is easy to imagine that one bale of the hundred may be on an East river wharf, another in the hold of a coasting steamer. Another in the ponderous jaws of a giant compress, another in an Alabama gin house in the seed, and others in the baskets of bent old black men all the way from 1 Currituck to the Itio Grande. As a matter of fact, the cotton is nowhere? , except for the unlucky last buyer who is pinned for delivery. There are I more Southern than Northern speculators in "futures," and it is said that the South loses in this way the annual , sum of $30,000,000. A very good rule, so cool headed "operators" say, is to find out what the Southerners are doing, and then do just the other thing. There is no law to prevent any East Haddam gentleman from trying the experiment.?X. V. Times. A PLEA FOR THE KICKER. A writer in The Arkansaw Traveler makes a strong plea for the kicker. He says : Some folks don't like "kickers." I do. I shouldn't like to be one, but I like to have them around. They are as essential as the brakes upon a locomotive, or the governor upon a steam engine. Of course, you say this is untrue. Well, maybe it is ; but you haven't proven it. There is a difference, you . know, between saying a thing and proving it. One man may make a statement that a dozen men can't disnrnvp. Rut I have said that the kick it is ft necessary evil. And I stick to it. Kickers in England catnc to America and set up a little government we would bleed for to-day. And we have been kicking ever since. The kicker is the worst enemy of the political schemer. Two or three politicians lay their wires with astute ncss and say we will nominate this man ; or we will adopt this measure. No! The kicker raises the alarm, and the best laid schemes of the tricksters come to naught. The people have i voice where they would not, had the kicker not come to the rescue. One redeeming quality about the kicker is his unselfishness. He steps into a waiting room where the lire is 1 Dut?frost is hanging on the stove. 1 I'old as whizz?everybody shivering? nobody has nerve enough to raise any i objection to he being frozen to death ) >v a heartless railroad company. The j kicker comes, and he raises a howl, ile swears at the agent, and threatens to report to the company if the fire is not started. Soon a roaring fire warms up the waiting-room, and tlie people, as they thaw out, bless the kicker. One man will eat burnt steak every morning for three weeks, rather than murmur. Another will look the waiter square in the eye, and say : "Now, I don't eat charcoal! If you've got 1 anything fit to cat, trot it out!" and . : ! if there is any edible steak about the premises, the kicker will get it. He is a much-abused personage? and why? Because he insists on hav- | i ing his rights, and is constitutionally j opposed to being trodden underfoot. , No, I am not a kicker. But I have j a great deal of respect for that individ- | , itai. J,et us weaK-Kiieeu icuows learn j , a lesson of independence, copy the good | ; points of the kicker's makeup, discard ! his weaknesses, and be not like "dumb, j driven cattle." I FOR THE MOTHERS. ; < As boys grow up make companions | ' of them ; then they will not seek com- ' ' j pauionship elsewhere. Let the children make a noise some- ( I i time; their happiness is as important i as your nerves. 1 Respect their little secrets. If they have concealments, worrying them | will never make them tell, and patience * ! will probably do the work. Allow them, as they grow older, to f | have opinions of their own : make in- \ dividuals and not mere echoes. 1 Remember that without physical health mental attainments are worth- 1 less; let them lead free, happy lives, ( which strengthen both mind and body. ' j Rear in mind that you are largely j responsible for your children's inherit- ' cd character, and have patience with ! faults and failings. Talk hopefully to your children of I ; l:fe and its possibilities; you have no * right to depress them because you J have suffered. J Teach hoys and girls the actual facts J of life as soon as they are old enough ' to understand them, and give them the j sense of responsibility without sadden- j : iug them. Find out what their special tastes . arc, and develop them, instead of | | spending time, money and patience in forcing them into studies which are repugnant to them. As long as it is possible, kiss them , 1 good-night after they are in bed; they I (lo like it so, and it keeps them very j ; close. i If you have lost a child, remember that for the one that is gone there is j nothing more to do ; for those remaining, everything; hide your grief for their sakes. Impress upon them from early infancy that actions have results, and they '' cannot escape consequences even by being sorry when they have ucted : v wrongly. I v As your daughters grow up teach '' I them at least the true merits of house- a keeping and cookery ; they will thank 11 you for it in later life a great deal j more than for accomplishments. I ? Try and .sympathize with girlish j ^ Hights of fancy, even if they seem ab- ; e surd to you ; by so doing you will re- * tain your influence over your daugh- c ters. and not teach them to seek sym- ; * pathy elsewhere. j Remember that although they are all ' your children, each one has an indivi- \ " dual character, and tastes and quali- > s Cultivate them separately, and not as : if you were turning them out by machinery. 0 Encourage them to take good walk- j c ing exercise. Young ladies in this I d country are rarely walkers. Girls I d ought to be able to walk as well as ^ boys. Half the nervous diseases which afflict young ladies would disappear a if the habit of regular exercise were ; ^ encouraged. * Keep up the right standard of principles. Your children will be your v keenest judges in the future. I)o be h honest in small things as well as in ^ great. If you cannot tell them what they wish to know, do not decive them. 11 Reprove your children for table bear- A ing; a child taught to carry reports i c from the kitchen is detestible. Remember that visitors praise the j u children as much to please you as they ^ deserve it, and their presence is oftener an affliction than not. S WILDING FROM THE TOP DOWNWARD. | } A great building of twelve stories in j j course of construction in Chicago pre- t, sents a sight that would dumfound an v architect of the old school. The steel > skeleton framework is finished up to q the twelfth story, and the stone-work t< is done from the foundation to the first j storv. Then there is a skin of two stories, and the exterior walls of terra p cotta, in imitation of stone, have been j, started at the third story and are being \ run up from that point. In other words, the exterior of the upper part jj of the building is being completed, i Cl while the lower stories are mere skeletons of uprights and cross pieces, but being of iron they furnish a strong p enough support for the operations of the s| builders. This method of construction .. is becoming very common in Chicago, I *. and it is thus explained : According to t] contract, the building must be ready 0 for occupancy by next May, and the j. contractors cannot afford to waste any of the brief time allowed them. The a walls of the first three stories arc to he , t( of stone, and as that portion of the e, work will not he completed for two S( months yet, the contractors started the -j terra cotta section of the walls where %v the stone will leave off, and are travel- ^ ing upward, leaving thej stonework of ^ the lower stories to follow. The terra -s cotta blocks are so made that they lit <y exactly around the big upright steel t( beams. At the same time steel rods, t| or anchors, as they are called, are run through the wings of the beams, there- 1 t -i tr. : uy aiirnuitu^ uiu iuiuici iu iuu lauvi. It is these anchors that hold the terra ! ^ eotta walls in place and furnish the tj supports for the blocks to rest upon.? tj St. Louis (ilobc-Democrat. ?i ? UENKSIS OF THE STEAMBOAT. ' n The first steamboat was built by b Dennis Pa pin, who navigated it safely el down the Fulda as long ago as 1707. ' p rnfortunately, the pioneer craft was tl destroyed by jealous sailors, and even ai tbe very memory of it was lost for three-quarters of a century. In 177o Perrier, another Frenchman, built V an experimental steam vessel at Paris, h Fight years later, in 1793, Joutl'roy li took up the idea that had been evolved w by Papin and Perrior and built a steam- ai er which did good service for some fi time on the Saone. The first Ameri- di can to attempt to apply steam to nav- m gation was John Fitch, a Connecticut w mechanic, who made his initial experi- hi ments in the year 1785. To what ex- gi tent Fitch was indebted to the three sr illustrious French inventors named ai above we are not informed, but that tl his models were original there is not T the least doubt. In the first he em- tl ployed a large pipe-kettle for generat- in ing the steam, the motive power being hi side paddles worked after the fashion In of oars on a common rowboat. In the tc second Fitch crntt the same mode or si propulsion was adopted, with the ex- ai eeption that the paddles were made hi to imitate a revolving wheel and were tl: affixed to the stern?clearly Ibreshad- In owing the present "stern-wheeler." F The last mentioned boat was the first sa American steam vessel that can he io pronounced a success. It made its : first trip to Burlington in July, 17SS. to Hut after all, it was not until after the . st opening of the present century that j lu I steam navigation started into actual life. In 1807 Robert Fulton (whom , every shool child knows was an Amer ican), in conjunction with one Robert R. Livingston, built the Clermont, and established a regular packet service between New York and Albany. The success of this undertaking was so satisfactory that four new boats were built before the end of 1811, at least two of them being designed for service in other rivers. PATENTS FOR SMALL THINGS. It has been said that two-thirds of ; the wealth of the United States is due to patents inventions. Often, too, pat- ? ents for small and trilling things have won fortunes for their lucky inventors ; , a shoe-peg, a heel plate or a toy prov- i ing to be a bonanza. Here are some of the little things 1 which thoughtful people have devised : A metal paper fastener, for keeping j the pages of documents together, the metallic shoe-tip, the rubber pencil tip, j 1 i wooden screw, wooden pegs for shoes, the inverted glass ball, which is hung aver gas jets; the return ball with a rubber string, and the ball and socket ^love fastener. Children have taken out quite a number of profitable patents. Arthur [r. Smith, of Rockwood, Illinois, at ! 1 iwelve years of age, invented and pat- i jnted a rowing apparatus. Donald M. . 1 Murphy, of St. John, Canada, when 1 six years old, obtained from the Unit;d States exclusive rights in a sound- j i ng toy. i (Icorge C. Pyle, of Wilmington, Del., < it the age of eighteen, patented a majhine which makes sixty horse shoes a i 1 riinute. He sold it for a sum sufficient ] o lift the mortgage off his father's lomo. Benjamin F. Hamilton, of Boston, < vhen seventeen years old, took out i natents on a number of devices for , i ,i \r.,Koi t ncuu it; auu uicvatcu iuin> ajo. iuuuti < Toward, of Washington, I). G\, eleven 1 ,-ears old, invented an ingenious game i "or an invalid brother and got a patent i or it. ( Common sense has sometimes been 1 nore useful to inventors than a me- ] :lmnical education. Many eggs used to get broken on i heir way to market by rail. A conn- < ryman conceived the plan of packing < hem in trays of pasteboard, with a 1 eparatc compartment, in which each gg might stanil upright. The happy hought was worth a fortune, and f uch trays are now universally used, i In using bath bricks for cleaning t :nives, housewives formerly found that i he most troublesome part of the job i ras scraping the powder from the t >rick. One day it occurred to some- , f tody to sell the bricks ready powdered | 1 n neat packages, and he got a fortune 1 >y it. ( Formerly inventions were nearly al- t rays made Imp-hazard. People hit j ipon them accidentally. Now the i liscovery of new ideas in mechanics is j t , profession. The inventor is a skilled 1 nan, employed by a firm of manufac- ; r urers with the understanding that all c lis inventions shall belong to them. i f )ne electric company picks up trained I lectricians all over the world, sets 1 hem to work and gives them every : s onvenience for producing new indus- i t rial applications of electricity. j 1 These salaried inventors are excelt ! c jntly paid. PMectricity is the greu- ! t eld for invention now. Twenty thouand electrical patents have been granttUaimia 138flU m .. The Nation's Capitals.?Any boy 11 r girl who might be asked the difier- i nt capitals of our country would no u oubt give them in the following or- i (: er, Philadelphia, New York and j 4 Vashington. That answer would be correct so far I a Jf rrAOC? Knf tlin friith ic thflf WA llflVO S ,3 IV -'UV V.V- V VW. I..V.V ..v.,^, ad ft good many more capitals than I hose named. a During the Revolution the British f rould have liked very much to get i old of the "rebel" congress; and, I nowing this, that body kept moving. > Wherever congress went, it took the ational capital with it, and so the * allowing named places were really the a apital at the dates named: j <! Philadelphia, from September 5,1774, i * ntil December, 177G; Baltimore, from i ^ )ecember 20, 177G, to March, 1777; ! > n. ;i ? r. ht.% i 1 rrr llllUlieipilIU, Hum in a 11; n i, i ill, iu eptember, 1777; Lancaster, Pa., from ! eptember 27, 1777, to September 30, f 777; York, Pa., from September 30, s 777, to July 1778 ; Philadelphia, from s uly 2, 1778, to June 30, 1783 ; Prince- 1; an, N. J., from June 30, 1783, to No- s ember 20,1783 ; Annapolis, Md., from j t Tovember, 1783, to November, 1784; " 'renton, N. J., from November, 1784, ; o a January, 1785; New York, from fi anuary 11, 1785, to 1700, when the n jat of government was changed to , a 'hiladelphia, where it remained until n 800, when it was finally removed to e Washington. x Thus it is that nine different towns n ave figured as the capital of our p ountry. j " The Temperatureof the Body.? 0 f you take a thermometer on a hot v immer day anil watch it until it runs p under the influence of the sunshine ' ' ) 1)8.4, you will sec it, when it reaches j int point, at the exact temperature j f your body, if you are in normal ealth. I 81 Your temperature may lluetuate a | ? action above or below 1)8.4, according 1 ) the time of day or night, but it nev- i ?. r varies to any extent until fever or 1 )ine other kind of disease sets in. i 8 hen the temperature begins to do hat the pulse does not do?tell just j ow dangerously sick the person is. j ? .nil one of the strange things about it that it does not vary many degrees ^ -oiii this normal point of 98.4, no mat- ,l ;r how ill the patient may become. If !l lere is a high fever it may run up to , f)3 or 105, and sometimes to 106, but a seldom stays at this point for any ngth of time. If it goes up to 108 le good physician who is watching at 7 le bedside of the sick person concludes , 11 lat death will soon put an end to v ic suffering. j* Sometimes, as in cases of cholera, it 7 lay drop several degrees below 98.4, *' ut it seems to be impossible for it to ^ tiange many degrees from the normal oint. There are cases recorded where 'l ic temperature ran up to 110 or 112 n nd the patient recovered. a ? i tl Thk Faulk of thk Hoksk Siiok.? f on know the German fable about the 11 orsc shoe. In the olden times in a ttle village of Germany a blacksmith ' 0 as hard at work. The sound of the I nvil and the lurid flames from the irnace attracted the attention of the evil. lie saw that the smith was n laking horseshoes and thought it t! ould he a good idea to get his own p oofs shod. So the devil struck a bar- tl lin and put up his foot. The black- $ nith saw with whom he was dealing w id nailed a red-hot shoe on, driving G ic nails square into the devil's hoof, cl he devil then paid him and left; but ' le honest blacksmith threw me money i i the fire. He knew it would bring , 31 in bad luck. Meanwhile the devil gi id walked some distance and began ni > sutler the greatest torture from the toes. 'the more he danced and kick ?d ] id swore the worse the things hurt si in. Finally, after he had gone pi trough the most excrutiating agony, li j tore them otfand threw them away. p< roin that time forward whenever he n ,w a horseshoe he would run oil", anx- ri us only to get out of the way. The F erman peasantry all believe this story pi day, and one can scarcely find a door- la ep, or a barn door, that hasn't a is irseshoe nailed up. j Si Takinc Fori. AirOut ok a Well. I saw, says a writer in The GlobeDemocrat, a curious method used the other day in Illinois, to lake the foul air out of a well. The well was to he cleaned, but the man that took the job was afraid to go down until he had ascertained the quality of the air at the bottom. He let down a lighted candle, and when it descended to about six feet of the bottom it went out as suddenly as though extinguished by a whiff of air. That was all he wanted to know. He was then sure that the well had poisonous gas in it, and took a small umbrella, tied a string to the handle and lowered it open into the well. Having let it go nearly to the bottom, he drew it up, carried it a few feet from the well and upset it. He repeated this operation twenty or thirty times, with all the bystanders laughing at him, then again he lowered the light, which burned clear and bright even at the bottom. He then condescended to explain that the gas in the well was carbonic acid gas, which is Uion nir aiul fliarafArA 4V/* "llv* V?lV4VlVr.W he brought up in an umbrella just as though it was so much water. It was a simple trick, yet perfectly effective. The Peanut Industry.?The "goohcr" industry of Norfolk is unique. Here is a little city in Virginia that has become the greatest distributing center of peanuts in the world. A. peanut is a pretty small item, but an annual crop of something like a,000,000 bushels, worth millions of lollars, makes a pretty big item. The demand for goobers has doubled within the last five years, and the supply does not fill the growing demand. Pew people know the curious uses to which the goober has been put in trade af late years. No other single plant raised in this country is used in so many different ways. The Chinese say the cocoanutpalm has as many uses as there arc days in the year. The goober is not so universal as that, but it has as many valuable qualities as there are lays in the week. The solid part of the nut is peculiarly nutritive and supplies fruit and food for many a family, flie vines make fine, fodder, some say is good as clover hay, while hogs fatten in what is left in the fields after the Top has been gathered.?New York [ndependent. The Busy Bee.?When you eat a spoonful of honey, you have very little lotion as to the amount of work and ravel necessary to produce it. To nake one pound of clover honey, bees mist deprive 02,000 clover blooms of heir nectar, and to do this requires 5,7">0,000 visits to the blossoms by the iees. In other words, one bee, to colect enough nectar to make one pound >f honey, must go from hive to flower md back, 3,750,000 times. Then, when ou think how far bees sometimes fly n search of these clover fields, oftener ban not one or two miles from the live, you begin to get an idea of the lumber of miles one of these industrials little creatures must travel, in orler that you may have |the pound of loney that gives them so much trou>le. It may also help you to underlain! why the bee is unamiable enough o sting you if you get in its way. rVheti one has to work so hard to acomplish so little, it is quite irritating o be interfered with. Greetings of all Kinds.?The ate ire of a very varied character. The American or the Englishman isks, "How are you ?" or "How do you lo?" The Frenchman wants to know, How do you carry yourself?" The >wede puts the rather indefinite quesion, "How can you?" The Arab ays to his fellow Arab, "Allah be iraised, how are you ?" The German sks, "How goes it?" or "How do you ind yourself?" The Russian formula 3, "How do you live on ?" and the Egyptian anxiously inquires, "How do 'ou perspire ?" There is a wonderful affinity between his greeting from the land of the Nile .nd the crocodile and the familiar [uestion put by the Americans, from he Atlantic to the Pacific and from akes to the gulf, "Is it hot enough for -ou?" Lazarus and the Rich Man.? Cver since the days when your Sunday cliool teachers tried to teach you omething which they very imperfecty understood themselves, you have poken of the aristocrat who refused o befriend Lazarus, the beggar, as Dives," being well satisfied in your wn mind that was his name. The lets are these: Dives is a Latin word, leaning "rich." It is a common or ppellativc noun, but is often regarded s a proper name, especially when refrence is made to the parable in Luke :vi. It is said that the mistake origially arose from the fact that all old ictures on the subject were labeled Dives et Lazarus." My authority ays that it was quite natural that unducated persons would take the first ,-ord to be the rich man's name, as the ist was unquestionably that of the eggar. Don't Talk Loudly.?Nothing larks a true lady or gentleman more nrely than a low voice ; and a man an have it as well as a woman. A )ud voice arises either from extreme arclesstiess or low breeding. No one kes to walk beside a person in the inllro 1 n 1AI1<1 IfAI/lA Til O Li i't'i ? nu uuiva in a iuuu ? wi\>* , a mw tmc rule applies to girls and boys, lay is one thing and conversation is nother, though the former need not e boisterous. Children may have ood lungs and use them in cheering t the right time ; hut when they talk, low distinct voice marks one who as been accustomed to good society ml possessed of innate refinement. Why Bio Men Have Little Wives. -There is a very general and ancient npression that big men, in choosing ivcs, prefer small women. At first lance this would appear to be true, ecause the number of big men with ttle wives is certainly in an overhelming majority as we see them. In lie live years I have held my office I avo learned a thing or two through tedium of the marriage license office, nd it is my impression that it is not Iiut big men prefer little women, nut liat little women prefer big men, and , is the experience of the world-wise lint what a woman wants and starts ut to get she generally captures.?St. ,ouis (ilobe-Deniocrat. Waf" The costliest mile of railroad is a die measured on the steel portion of le Forth bridge. The length of this ortion is a mile and twenty yards, and le cost of it was considerably over 10,01)0,000. The most expensive railay system in the world is the "Inner ircle" line of London, which cost, inluding the purchase of the land, from 1,000,000 to $5,000,000 per mile, he last constructed mile, between the rausion House and Aldgate, cost altoether, including "compensations," early $10,000,000. Jka)"" The three Slavic States of Kusa, Koumania, and Servia, are said to assess the highest percentage of ilteracy of any in tlic world. Eighty er cent, of the people are unable to ad or write. Of the Latin-speaking ices, Spain heads with 48 per cent., ranee and Belgium having about 15 jr cent., Austria thirty, and Ire,nd 21. In England the percentage 15, Holland 10, United States 8, and L'otland 7.