4 HE n 6
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 12,1892
EE —————————
UNDER SEALED ORDERS.
Out she swung from her moorings,
And over the harbor bar
As the moon was slowly rising
She faded from sight afar,
And we traced her gleaming canvas
_ By the twinkling evening star.
None knew the port she sailed for,
Nor whither her eruise would be ;
Her future course was shrouded
In silence and mystery;
She was sailing under “sealed orders,”
To be opened out at sea. : !
So souls, cut off from moorings,
Go drijting into the night,
Darkness before and around them,
With scarce a glimmer of light ;
They are acting under “seale orders,”
And sailivg by faith, not sight.
Keeping the line of duty
“Through good and evil report,
They shall ride the storms out safely,
Be the passage long or short ;
For the ship that carries God's orders
Shall anchor at last in port.
’ A TASTE OF THE WORLD.
BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD
in Harpers Bazar.
CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.
Very likely Duncan McMurray ac-
cepted the blush for more than it was
worth. But heknew instinctively that
it meant she had been forbidden his ac-
quaintance; and a certain defiance of
Miss Featherstonhaugh and her sort
would have possessed him, even if it
had not seemed worth while to prose
cite the’ matter for ‘his own pleasure.
Tn the time of a thought, he had turned
and was walking quietly along beside
Sally, as if their acquaintance had been
one of years, Hestooped as he walked,
and picked up a pebble from the sand.
“Tossed by the waves,” he said, (‘like
many another poor plaything of cir
cumstances. Ground smooth by them,
1 suppose it would: have liked to be an
invincible cliff, to throw back all as:
gault. But then,” as he passed the
pretty water-washed thing to her, *i
would never haye been held in your
hand.” :
“She balanced it on her thumb, and
filliped it into an incoming wave. Be
think it likes that best,” she laughed.
“There is an element of cruelty in all
women,” said Mr. McMurray.
“Because they throw pebbles into
the surf?” : :
“Because they like to complete a ru-
in. Yes,” he said, presently, as Sally
made him no reply. “There is noth-
ing ‘a good woman feels more in the
light of a duty than to put the finishing
touch on—let us say, a damaged repu-
tation, - Miss. Featherstonhaugh has
been busy with mine, 1 see. Can you
tell me why a good woman—I admit
that your chaperon is a good woman,
if she isn’t beautiful ; I have more char-
ity than she has—can you tell me why
ghe is 80 ready to believe evil? Itisa
fancy I haye—an impossible fancy, to
be sure—that_ if I were good I would
hold out a helping hand to one as wick-
ed as I. Oh’—at Sally’s startled face
—4] stand convicted ; I make no pre:
‘tensions. I suppose I am no better
than the worst. But if T wished—if I
wished— Oh, well, whatuse? Wish-
ing, of all employments, is the worst,
you know. As if it "were not punish-
ment enough’ to suffer I" he cried, ve-
hemently. “But I suppose you can’t
change the course of the stars,” he re-
sumed, in his usual tone. “And a
man has to accept his doom.”
What a sadness there: was in’ his
dark glance! What bitter pain in his
tone! At least she thought it was sad-
ness and pain—she was not very famil-
far.with the things.
to Sally Sylvester's innocent eyes. She
moved in her impulsive way, holding
out both hands. Saat
“Don't don’t!” she said: “There is
no such thing as doom. Oh, how sor-
ryJam! Whycan’tyou— Can I—"
And she turned away, red to the nape
of her loyely neck, and in a bewilder-
“ment of confusion, defiance, and regret.
~ “No, no,” he said. “I am not worth
it, Don’t give me another thought. It
18 too late in the day.”
7 GTt is never too late!” she said, not
knowing in the least what he meant—
what she meant.
“At any rate.’ he said, “you have
shown me that it is not too late to make
friends ;” and gazing full ‘in her eyes,
he grasped her hands and held them a
long moment, wrung them, and walked
- away to his boat, where the men were
waiting to take him to the yacht.
“I And"when'later in the day she saw
from her window the great sails of the
-; Roe spread and fill and slowly swell
away into the east, a shadowy sadness
filled her soul—a sadness to which
tears are near, like that which comes
with the sound. of evening, bells, or
with the wandering scent of unseen
flowers at night. “It is cruel, it is un-
reasonable,” she said to. herself. ‘1
am his friend. I will help him,”
It never occurred to her to ask how
_she, a child, a little country girl, uo-
used to the ways of the world, was go
ing to be of seryice to a man who, by
his own confession to her, was not suit-
able for ber companionship, But she
spent the afternoon lying on the sands,
and watching the sails far out against
the sky take the light and turn to, the
' shadow, and wily below the horizon,
thinking sad thoughts, or rather snffer-
ing sad sensations, remembering the
‘pathos in these dark eyes, and recall
ing pictures of the melancholy Dane,
And when she went up from her hid-'
den nook, aud Miss Nancy put in her
hands a letter from Dél Griffiths, a
"straightforward manly script, with its
‘brief and feryent assurance of faithful
affection, and with ifs hardly contained
“joy over the news that he had been
' taken into the firm where he had been
studying law, and nothing stood in the
way now of his asking her to share his
_ life, lingering a moment over the de:
“fight of the hearth that should show
“their world the beauty of marriage.
COOL" ghe cried to herself. “What
‘made Yim write it? Why should 1
care? What do lcare? I neversaid
The tears started |
time for sentiment.
I would! The idea, the idea of it all!
Day after day, year after year, there in
the little (village, buried in the hills—
oh, the deadly commonplace of it all!
Dinner at twelve, and the sewing soci-
ety and the pra
Just now, too, wh
what life i¢, when I have begun to find
out how the world'is wide, wide, wide,
where those sails go over the verge—
when— O
{or a0 lamas
And her cheeks were still flushed
with the hour's excitement when Miss
Nancy came. inv and fastened a big
bnnch of damask-roses in the belt of
her white muslin gown before going
down to ‘dinner. sol 14]
Sally was very still at dinner, with
her burning color aud her eyes shining
like stars, full of new thoughts and
sensations and wonderments, and she
kept by Miss Nancy's side in the par-
lor, where Mrs. Vandeventail was gos:
siping with a foreign woman about so-
cial affairs. ae i)
“You have an, entirely erroneous
idea of our life,” she was saying. “Do
yon imagiee that because we are a re-
public afd practice self-government
that we are necessarily vulgar or'squal-
id? I sometimes think we have all
the splendor of theold Venetian days.
Our: mercha rs aie as princely ; our
life—that is our life, that of nous autres
—is as magnificent.”
“Aw if,” grunted Miss Nancy, “it
wasn't a disgrace to be too rich!”
«I really don't see why. Whois too
rich ? - There are many just rich
enough.’ At the Deschoses fete last
winter, the ceiling of the supper-room
was & canopy of roses; there was a
fountain of sparkling wine ; there were
cups carved of solid amethyst and ber-
yl, and others of gold were set thick
aad crusted with precious stones. All
the glass was wonderful old Murano,
all the china priceless old Sevres pate
tendre. And the dress of Mrs. Descho-
ses— Evangeline, you know, the daugh-
ter, is the Duchesse des Bibelots—was
of a white velvet brocaded with leaves
of grass, and on the tip of every leaf,
the whole gown over, sparkled a dia-
mond ; and a vail fastened by & spray
of grass in diamonds and emeralds was
of Jace that cost.a fortune, that had be-
longed to an empresa.” # ; enn
« “That had belonged to an empress !’
You ¢ould not have phrased what I
mean more precisely. Our lace did
not belong to empresses but to our an-
cestresses. It has no'purchasable val-
ue ; it is simply priceless.” :
“But--"!
“Oh, of course it is understood that
you have money, that you know how
to spend it, yet—"
“I inust confess to you,” said Mrs.
Vandeventail, “that I” cannot see the
difference between our lives and objects,
our young men, Why, there 1s Duncan
McMurray, a cousin of the Deschoses.
He has the manners, the breeding, of
a prince ; the education, the brilliancy,
the beauty, the physique, that princes
ought to have; he has the retinue, the
menage, of a prince; princes are his
companions.”
“More's the pity,” said Miss
“Look at his yacht.!”
“Jt has gone away,” Sally was on
the point of saying before she remem-
bered herself.
“Look at his houses! they are pal-
aces. Look at his income! He fits
out an expedition for the magnetic pole ;
he sends a party to the heart of Africa ;
he buys up a town in the West, an
turns a river over it to give him a road-
way he wants ; he has a Russian con-
cession for a railway, and tunnels into
a mine where the political convicts nev-
er see daylight, and runs them off 1
safety.” a5
“All very fine, and very romantic,
and rather impossible, and not at ali
true, I'll venture to say,” said Miss
Nancy. SR
© «But for the rest,” said their foreign
friend, “I hear strange stories of the
darker side of his life.”
“The fire fell on the five cities of the
plain for less reason than’ the life of
some of our jeunesse doree affords.”
' Oh, young men will be young men.
One day they they reform ; they tire of
je
“You call it reform to_ tire of sin?”
“I ghoald call anything reform in
Duncan McMurray’s case.”
And with a suddea shame and anger
and amaze, Sally rose and walked away,
Nancy.
‘and crossed the sill of the low window
into the moonlight. And there stood
Duncan McMurray. is
“Well,” he said, ‘you see I could
not stay away. How sweetly those old
tabbies purr! Haye they convinced
you that the Prince of the Power of the
“Air is a better man than I? Very
likely he id.” For all at once; as she
stood there! in the moonlight, white-
robed, spotless, the sense of her inno-
cence seemed to-give~him a blow. “I
ought to have stayed away,” he said.
“[ never had a fair chance?’ he cried,
hotly, in a moment more. “I was giv-
en my head when a boy.” I never ‘had
a woman about me like you, like Mies
Nancy even, HATA HF i
“] am eo grieved for you,” said Sally,
putting out ber little hand. “I wish'I
could help you.” "°° :
“You can!” he cried, “You can!”
But just then Mr. Balcomb came
along with Lilian Vounah, and present-
ly the band was playing again, and the
gallery was full of, people, It was no
Ir. McMurray
‘made an impatient gesture, and then
he laughed, abd began to tell an amus-
ing story about the resetting of Mrs.
Vandeventail's tiara iz London, which
made Lilian recall another, and Mr.
Balcomb capped hers, and presently
they had all four strolled along to a lit:
tle balcony screened from: the Great
Walk, and there were a table and
chairs, and some glasses of apollinaris
lemonade with rows were orderad, and
if two of the glasses were not inerely
that feeble composition, Sally at least,
did not suspect it,and the quips and mots
were very bright and light; and when
she was in her. own. room, Sally had
enough to speenlate about in his swift:
change’, from, grave to gay, ‘When
Miss Nancy next morning gave her
ermeeting for events |
hen I have found out
h,molpolno! What right
has Del Griffiths to take it all for gran:
what she called a great going over, styl-
ing the half hour over the lemonade an
orgie, Sally began to wonder if the or-
gies she had heard of were any other
than that, and saw injustice and un-
reason and tyranny, and felt full of re-
bellion, Miss Nancy might send. her
home if she would, she was going to
do her duty by this poor fellow. Poss:
shed some aura around him, but she
was not aware of it. The most that
occurred to her about, his fortune was
the happiness it might be to turn it to
200d uses, and he was possibly magni.
fied by the largeness of his possibilities
of act and “purpose. When she woke
in the morning, he was a figure in her
thoughts, striving for better life. And
when she went to sleep ‘at night, his
dark sorrowful eyes, his tender glances,
his lips trembling with unspoken words,
aroused a vague romance and sense of
living in the midst of the unnamed
drama, the poem, that she had imag
ined the life outside her hamlet on the
hills to be. ~ Andall the time Del's let-
ter layin theltop of her trunk un-
answered. Things at home were very
prosaic. Aud since there must be no
dancing, she met Mr, McMurray: in the
woods beyond the shore, and said her
childish say ; and she sat with him in
recesses of the rocks, watching the surf
roll ih, silent themselves, now aud then
his searching and pathetic glance upon
her face, and once or twice in the star-
light she had gone out with him in a
skiff, two of his sailors rowing, for all
this time'the Roc went and came in the
offing; and the sea had murmured its
great music around them, swelling and
falling beneath the vast curtain of the
stars, and they had come in over the
weed-strewn shingle, the white light of
its phosphorescence following their feet,
the salt breath clinging to their clothes;
and Miss Nancy’s suspicions had been
lulled by seeing her come up with Lil-
jan and Mr. Balcomb, McMurray be-
taking himself to the yacht. One night,
indeed, when Miss Nancy had goue off
early to bed with a cold and a hot-wa-
ter bag, Sally staid on the shore alone
with her friend till past midnight, and
he came up with her, and held her
hands in both his at parting, lingering,
hesitating. “Oh I” he exclaimed, as
he released them reluctantly, ‘you
make me another man!” And then
they found the doors were locked, and
she out there alone with him in the
night! They waited tohear the watch-
man’s steps retreat, and Mr. McMar-
ray broke a pane of glass, and opened
the window, and hurriedly helped her
in; and she crept by Miss Nancy's
room with her shoes in her hand, and
opened her door, and ghivering with
fright as if in an ague, she did not stop
to think betore she fell into a sleep of
nervous exhaustion, such an unaccount-
able sense of guilt all at once possessed
her, while she saw her mother’s reprov-
ing eyes, and felt as if Del Griffiths
could only look at her to despise her.
She could not understand it nextday ;
it was certainly nota crime to loiter
late along the shore ;she only knew
she must be doing wrong when she felt
obliged to conceal what she did.
“Come, now, McMurray,” said Mr.
Balcomb to that gentleman a few days
later, “aren’t you going rather too far
with the little Sylvester?”
“That depends on the distance,”
said Mr. McMurray, snapping the ashes
off his cigar, ;
“Jt seems to me,’ said Mr. Balcomb,
“that sheis an unsophisticated little
beauty.”
“That I grant you. Beats the pro:
fessionals. out of sight. There's a
curve along the cbeck— Well, you
find it only in the period of Lysippus,”
he said, sending out a ring of smoke.
“Phat line of the shoulders, too—the
natural poise, the haughty spirit. of it,
take it with those ‘eyes so blue and
tender,’ you don’t often see it.”
“You are talking of a slave in the
market at Stamboul.”
“] never saw one half so fair there.”
“And are all the purchasers as_cold-
blocded as you?” :
The other laughed, replaced ‘his ci-
gar, and said nothing.
“McMurray, I think we both feel an
interest in this pretty country girl.”
“Quite right, so far as you speak for
1
“We shall hardly see her again, how-
ever, after this month.”
“No ”
«Pshaw! Take something worthier
of your steel,” said Balcomb. “Let
the little thing alone. No? What
then 2” .
“Look here, Balcomb, many a man
has made a fortune befcre this by
minding his own business.” And he
threw away his cigar and sauntered in
another direction.
And meanwhile Mrs. Vandeventail
was urging upon Miss Nancy the im-
propriety of making Sally refuse her
invitation to the yachiing party on the
Roc ; it would be #o very marked,
«T want it to be marked,” said Miss
Nancy. ¥
“Bat you will only injure the girl,”
said her friend. “You know what Dua-
McMurray ie. You will simply make
him determine to overcome you, and
put the child in twice the peril. © If
you will take my advice, you will allow
her to go along with the rest as if it
were oaly an ordinary aftair,”
“J wish he had been drowned before
he ever came here!” exclaimed Miss
Nancy. “I can’t accept his hospitali-
ty after all I have said of hiw. You
will keep her under your eye. every
minute? No! I will go myself.” :
"And the next morning, when the
Roe spread her ~reat white'sails to the
favoring summer’ wind, Miss Nancy
sat, a very grim image, among the
‘dowagers and the clusters of gay men
and lovely women aboard, fr, Me-
Murray having received her as if she
were the queen of the occasion, - placed
her in a luxurious sea-chair, and sent
a fur for her knees.
Tt is truce, is it not, Miss Feather-
stonhaugh ?” he said, bringing herhim-
self the claret-cup. *Try the good éf.
fect of being pleased,” he murmured,
bending over her, “and believe noone;
is as black as he is painted.”
ibly the fact of his princeliness, 8s she.
had heard the dowagers telling of it,’
“Perhaps he isn’t,” thought Miss
Nancy, a little repentantly, under the
was not a mild concoction; and she
came very near enjoying herself, while
the Daybreak music of Peer Gynt lift-
ed theskyand lightened the sea. And
afterward, the dancing, wit the inter
change of the great breast-knots of
roses, the swimining figures, the blue
sea, the blue sky, the snowy sails, the
delicious salty odor of the air—all
made it seem to her a dream of beauty,
and she felt as if she were young again;
and later yet, when they went down to
a banquet that filled Miss Nancy with
go much amazement that she found
herself wondering if the tales told of
Duncan McMurray were not, after all,
the creations of those who could not
understand the splendid proflgacy of
his expenditure, she confessed that
champagne was never half so rafresh-
ing as when it had this tang of the salt
sea foam in its bubble.
Tt was sunget when they came on
deck again; and as she sipped her cup
of emperors’ tea, the soft wind, the
placid water, the slow floating into a
double heaven of reflected color, all
made Miss Featherstonhaugh feel as
if she were under some enchantment,
or in a dream—as presently indeed she
was—a deep, sweet, contented dream.
The wind had freshened a little when
she woke, and the slight rolling of the
yacht gave Miss Nancy so decided a
ualm where she lay, with her muffler
fallen about her drooping head, that
she closed her eyes again for a mom-
ent. As the bow rose and fell in the
increasing swell she felt a strange still-
ness about her, an ominous absence of
all voices, for the wash of the water
an the soft singing of the cordage were
the only sounds she heard. It seemed
to her as if she were alone upon the
yacht, All at once she started to her
feet, took a dozen quick steps; her coa-
jecture was quite correct; except for
Mr. McMurray and the crew, she was
quite alone upon the yacht.
It was during that deep sea dream of
ber after dinner sleep that the tug,
which had been directed to follow if
the light breeze changed or fell, came
slowly on their track; the yacht had
luffed up into the wind, and while her
sails were shaking, the gay party one
by one had been handed across. As
they gathered about the gangway, Mr.
McMurray, going from one to another,
standing at the rail a moment to chaff
Balcomb about his sea legs, came to
Sally, and took her jacket, helping her
with an unruly sleeve.
“Ah, there was one thing I wanted
to show you,” he said suddenly, and
walked rapidly forward with Sally up-
on his arm.
“But is there time ?"’ she asked.
«All the time in the world,” he an-
gwered. “There is no hurry. The
tug is at my disposal, you know.
What a pity it is we must go back at
all!” he said, presently, stopping when
they were at quite the last step. “The
sea is 80 alluring in this soft yellow
glow; that star rising out of it will
never seem £0 big when seen from shore.
I wanted you to look at it with me,
and see if it does not seem to have ris-
en to beckon us to the other side of
the world—you and me! Do you know
that—"
While he was speaking there was a
pull, a pant, a churning of the water,
a receding sound, and Sally turned
with a startled look.
Surely the tug was dropping astern
Oh!” she cried. “It is going! It
is leaving us on board !”’
“And why not?’ said Mr. McMur-
ray.
Was it passion? was it triumph?
was it the tenderness of a man who
laid his life at her feet? was it a gleam
of laughing evil in his face? She
neithe thought nor knew nor cared.
Surprise and fright and horror ewept
over her face in swift transformation,
and made it never so beautiful: She
dropped his arm in an instant, bound-
ing away like a fawn, reached the
gangway, and cried at the top of her
voice: “Come back! Come back!
Come back!” And they heard her—
some one did, Balcomb or the pilot;
and the water began to churn. again,
and they had steamed alongside, and
before the steps could be lowered, Sal-
ly had sprung across.
“I'he wind is better than it was,”
cried Mr. McMurray to the others.
“] think it has changed a point or
two, We will go about, aud get in be-
fore you, after all.”
They gave Sally a laughing greeting
on the tug, and quivering with her
fright and her excitement though she
replied as laughingly, “All the ama-
teur circus does not belong to the men,
you see,” she exclaimed. “They can
never get along without my great act
on the flying trapeze.
And Mr, Balcomb led her to a seat,
and stood rather screening her while
tossing gloves with Lilian and Laura
and Johnny Dale. keeping the four
ballgin the air at once; and the twi- |:
light teil,and the little tug forged ahead.
Sally leaned over the side, as if she
were watching the seething of the sea.
She would have been glad just then to
be one ‘of those bubbles, and break and
dissolve into thin air. She was with-
ering with shame and anger. Oh!
why had she ever left her little nest
among the hills? There was safety,
mother, ‘there were peace and inno-
cence, and there—there was Del, if he
ever forgave her! And the thought of
Del’s strong nature rose before her like
a tower of strength, a bulwark between
ber and evil. What plece had shein
Pleasure! And thie snake's sting under
its: roses! What fool was she that
thought she could show a voluptuary|
the beauty of holiness? All hie profes
siofis, his sighe, his hopes, they had
been a ruse, a 'traud, What misbe-
havior.had hers been that he could
have dared such insult? How else
could he suppose she was to be with:
out formal betrothal and the bidding of
the banns before the bridal—as if she
were a flower to be had for the picking?
She had seen” all she wished of the
great world.” She would go home’ to
genial influence of the claret-cup,which |
there was rest, there was her dear
this gay reckless world of pleasure? |
!her ironing table, to the summer
{ boarders, to Del, it he would have her
—to her mother, at ail events.
And she did. And Miss Nancy
went with her on the morning train;
for the yacht came into moorings a
half-hour later than the tug.
“You had the disease of the great
world,” said Miss Nancy to her. “You
have been inoculated with it; it has
taken finely, and you have, I think,
quite recovered.”
And when she saw Sally that even-
ing, leaning over the grassy bank with
Del again, the young moon dropping
down the cleft of the great purple hills
before them,and the honeysuckle shed-
ding its sweetness everywhere about
‘them, all in the late summer quiet and
soft dusk and serenity, “1 declare,”
she said, “ I'ye no right to as much
satisfaction as this moment gives me,
with all which that other moment gave
me too, when I took in the situation
last night on the yacht, avd looked
Dancan McMurray over and said: ‘I
am afraid you will be the laugh of the
town. Forit really would seem that
you have eloped with the chaperon!"”
The Oak's Great Age.
psc ipens of the Tree Known to Be 1,000 years
The extreme limit of the age of the
oak is not exactly known, but sound
and living sepcimens are at least 1,000
years old . The tree thrive best in a
deep, tenacious loam with rocks in it.
It grows better on a comparatively poor
sandy soil than on rich ground imperfect-
ly drained. The, trunk, at fist inclined to
be irregular in shapa, straightenes at
maturity into a grand cylindrical shaft.
The oak does not produce good seed
until it is more than six years old.
The acorn is the fruit of the oak; the
seed germ is a very small object at the
pointed end of the acorn, with the future
root uppermost. The acorn drops and
its contents doubtless undergo important
molecular and chemical changes while
it lies under its winter covering of leaves
or snow. In the mild warmth of spring
the acorn swells, the little root elongates
emerges from the end of the shell, and
no matter what the position of theacorn,
turns downwards. The root penetrates
the soil two or three inches before the
stalk begins to show itself and grow up-
wards. The ¢* meat ”’ of the acorn no-
urishes both root and stalk, and two
years may pass before its store of food
is entirely exhausted. At the end of a
year the young oak has a root twelve to
eighteen inches long, with numerous
shorter rootlets, the stalk being from six
to eight inches high. In this stage it
differs from the sapling, and again the
sapling differs from the tree. To watch
these transformations under the lens is a
fascinating occupation-
If an oak could be suspended in the
air with all its roots and rootlets perfect
and unobscured, the sight would be
considered wonderful. “The activity of
the roots represents a great deal of
power. They bore into the soil and flat
ten themselves to penetrate a crack in a
rock. Invariably the tips turn away
from the light. The growing point of 8
tiny outer root is back of the tip a small
distance. The tip'is driven on by the
force behind it, and searches the soil for
the easiest points of entrance. When
the tips are destroyed by obstructions,
cold, heat or other cause a new growth
starts in varying directions. The first
roots thickens and become leaders to
support the tree, no longer feeding indi-
rectly, but serving as conduits for the
moisture and nourishment gathered by
the other rootlets, which are constantly
boring their way into fresh territory.
earth, salts, sulphates, nitrates, phos-
phates of lime, magnesia and potash, ete,
which passthrough th: larger roots,stem,
and branches to the leaves, the labora-
tory of new growth. An oak tree may
have 700.000 leaves, and from June to
October evaporates 236 times its own
weight of water. Taking account of the
new wood grown, ‘we obtain some idea
of the enormous gain of matter and en-
ergy from the outside universe which
goes on each summer, ”’
' Ouk timber is not the heaviest, tough-
est, or most} beautiful, butit combines
more good qualities than any other kind.
Its fraitis valuble food and its bark
useful in certain industries. An oak
ile submerged for 620 years in London
ridge came up in sound condition, and
there are specimens from the Tower of
London which date from the time of
William Rufus. ' To produce a good
oak grove requires from 140 to 200 years.
Tt seems a long time to an American,
but forestry is & perpetnal branch of
‘economies when once established.
Mr. Gladstone Greatly Improved.
Loxpox, Aug. 2—Mr. Gladetone’s
condition was 80 greatly improved this
morning that he rose from his bed at
11 o'clock and joined his secretary in
his study. Acting under his physician's
advice, however he remained indoors
to-day. biti i
The Public Debt Statement.
W asHINGTON, August 1.—The pub-
lic debt statement issued this afternoon
shows that the interest and non-interest
bearing debt decreased ~$838,855,50
during the month of July. Cash in
the treasury $783,987,271,81.
TTT
Ready For Service.
From the Hazelton Plain Speaker. (0
John Jarrett, consul to Birmingham,
ngland, has resigned. Mr. Jarrett is
needed in this country during the cam-
paign so that he can get in his dirty
work again, buying up labor leaders to
help the Rebublican party.”
SI RT
Unlucky.
She.—I'm not afraid to die but what
comes after makes me nervous.
He~What? i
She—Just my luck to be sent toa
mansion on. Opal avenue.—New York
Herald. .
—— Hood’s Pills cure liver ills, jauns
dice, billiousness, sick headache, congti-
pation.
——TIt is a good thing to wear clothes
that feel comfortable a well as look sty-
lish. oaod t
These absorb water charged with soluble |
EE TE RR RR
Brilliant Engineering.
Creation of a Great Lake to Supply Liverpool
with Water.
For a small country we do a big thing.
now and then, even by the admission.
of our American cousins. The Fourth
bridge was one ; another is the creation
of Lake Vyrnway, in Mid Wales, which
was yesterday declared by. the Duke of
Connaught at Liverpool to be ‘‘open”
and fit to act as the source of the water
supply of that city and the surrounding
district. This means a great deal. It.
means that the corporation of Liver:
pool and their engineer have actually
remade a great lake which existed as
a lake in the glacial epoch, but which
during the time cognizable by human -
record has been a marshy valley,
through which a tributary of the Sev.
ern slowly wound.
It means that a village, a church, a
burial ground and a pleasant country
house bad to be removed bodily ; that
a vast dam, unequalled in the world,
had to be built, and that the water had
to be conveyed through pipes and stor-
age tanks as far as Liverpool, across.
the Mersey aud over seventy miles
away. The work has taken eleven
years to bring to completion, and has
employed an army of workmen and an
engineer, whose name will always be
associated with this great achievement,
Mr. George F. Deacon. Everybody
will join the Duke of Connaught in
congratulating the engineer, the men,
and the corporation on the conclusion
of so great a work ; and not the least
element in the public satisfaction will
be the thought that it has been done
without hurting the susceptibilities of
even the most ardent devotee of natur-
al beauty. Ten years ago the Vyrnwy
Valley was a bare, marshy uninterest-
esting region, which had been a lake
once, but the waters from which had
flowed away. Now, though of course the
engineers work looks raw and new, yet
the good results can be seen again and
there isa lake whereone existed till the
barrier was forsome reason worn away.
An enormous improvement, indeed,
has been effected, as everybody will ad-
mit when the masonry bas toned down
and the trees have grown. We are not
without hopes that the same will one
day be found to be the case with
Thirlmere ; but it was not to be ex-
pected that good Wordsworthians and
lake-dwellers should believe that to be
possible when first Manchester asked
for leave to make works in that sacred
region. We shall see ; and meanwhile
it may be hoped that Manchester will
lose no time in his friendly race with
Liverpool. The making of water-
works in a beautiful country, with all
their accompaniments of unsightly
mounds of earth and heaps of piping,
is a thing which, if done at all, should
be done quickly. There have been, we
know, many unexpected difficulties in
the way; Manchester is rather un-
lucky in these matters, but it is to be
hoped that these have now been over-
come.
TA ACT
Protestant unurches in Rio.
They are Few in Number and Have but a Small
Membership.
The Protestant churches of Rio are
few in number and unpretending in ap-
pearance, writes Fannie B. Ward.
The oldest is the English Episcopal,
spoken of in a former letter, which was
built under the provisions of the treaty
of 1810, which stipulated that it should
have the exterior appearance of a pri-
vate house and use no bells. The ear-
liest attempt at mission work in this city
was by the American Methodist pis-
copal church in 1835, butit was aban-
doned seven years later. About twenty
years ago the southern branch of the
same denomination inaugurated another
mission here, which has resulted in the
organization of two prosperous. societies
for regular service in English and Por-
tuguese, the building of a rather hand-
some church edifice, and the creation of
a first-class school for girls, whieh occn-
pies. the site of a Jesuit Indian mission.
‘Though small, the Methodist church
is the best specimen of church architec-
ture in Rio, with a seating ‘capacity of
about four hundred. It was compléted
ing 1886. The American Baptist socie-
ty also has a mission here, established
about eight years ago, but has not yet
erected a church, The church of the
American Presbyterian mission is a
plain, substantial structure of roughly-
dressed granite, set well back from the
street within its own gronnd, and par-
tially concealed by the mission buildings.
Tt has a seating capacity of six hundred.
The services areconducted in Portu-
guese and its society is largely composed
of natives, There isa German Kvan-
gelical church on the Rua dos Invalidos
(“street of sick people”), very small ard
plain in appearance. The society was
established here about sixty years ago.
The oldest existing wission is that
known as the “Igreja Evangelica Flum-
inense,” which was founded by a
Scotch physician—Dr. R.: R. - Kalley—
and is now composed almosy exclusively
of converted Portuguese and Brazilians.
Their sanctuary on the Rua d’Saa Joa-
quine looks like anything but a church
having been built according to the pro-
visions of the treaty regulating Protes-
tant worship, although finished as late
as 1886. A school is ‘maintained in
connection and its work is said to. be
most excellent.—Chicago. Tribuue:
em em——
Idols Not Less than G00 Years 01d;
It is reported from Santa Fe, N. M.,
that in excavating some Aztec ruins,
near Chaco canyon, Governor Prince
has unearthed twenty stone: idols of a
“different type from any before discover-
ed. They are circular in shave, forming
disks varying from six to fiffeen inches
in diameter; the upper half containing a
deeply carved face and the lower half
rudimentary arms in relief. The, idols
are believed to be at least 600 years old.
Er —
PC ———————
It Took Her Longer Than That,
Rowne de Bout— What did your wife
sayy when you ‘got home last night,
Cross 7” :
Chris. Cross—First tell me how much
time you have to spare.
Rowne de Bont—About ten minutes.
Chris, Oross—Then I can’t tell you.: