The Statue,
There was a statue, only common elay,
Which in the sunshine stood one summer
Beoause the sun shone so, seemed finest gold
There was a hero, hero but to one,
Who had his gilded hour beneath Love's sun
And then, Ah, me! the sunshine died away
And loft the hero—bare, dull, common clay
1 ENYOL,
Are you the hero, or are you thesun?
A word, mon ami, and my fable's done.
If you must blame~be just and blame the
san.
Frances Hodgson Burnell, in the Contury.
wo
VOLUME XV.
msn AI A As
The Spirit Ideal.
[Posthumous poem sitributed to Edgar A.
Poe. This poem was not published until
many years after Mr, Poe's death. It is
written in the style of his “Raven,” which
fact will be readily recognised by all admir-
ors of his poetry. ] i
From the throne of life eternal,
From the home of love supernal,
Where angel feot make musio over all the
starry floor,
Mortals, I have come to meet you,
Come with words of peace to greet you,
And to tell you of the glory that is mine for
evermore,
Onoe before I found a mortal
Waiting at the heavenly portal—
Waiting but to eateh some echo from that
ever opening door,
Then I seized his quickenad being,
And through all his inward seeming,
Caosed my burning inspiration in a fery
flood to pour.
Now I come more meekly human,
With the weak lips of a woman
Touched with fire from off the altar, not
with burning as of yore,
But in holy love ascending,
With her chastened being blending,
I would fill your souls with musio from the
bright celestial shore.
As one heart yearns for another,
As a child turns to its mother,
From the golden gates of glory turn to
the earth once more,
Where I drained the cup of sadness,
Where my soul was stung to madness,
And life's bitter burning billows swept my
burdened being o'er.
Here the harpies and the ravens,
Haman vampires, sordid cravens,
Preyed upon my soul and substance till Ie
writhed with anguish sore,
Life and I seamed then mismated,
For I felt accursed and fated,
Like a restless, wrathful spirit wandering on
the Stygian shore.
Tortared by a nameless yearning,
Like a frost-fire freezing, burning,
Did the purple pulsing life-tide through its
fevered channels pour.
Till the “golden bowl,” life's token—
Into shining shreds was broken,
And my chafed and chafing spirit leaped from |
out its prison door.
But while living, striving, dying,
Never did my soul cease crying,
“Ye who guide the fates and furies, give, oh! |
give me, I implore! i
From the myriad hosts of n~tions,
From the countless constellations,
Dna pure spirit that can love me—one that I,
too, can adore I”
Through this fervent aspiration,
Found my fainting soul salvation,
for from out its blackened fire-orypts did my
quickened spirit soar;
And my beautiful ideal—
Not too saintly to be real—
Burst more brightly on my vision than the
fancy-formed Lenore.
"Mid the surging seas she found me,
With the billows breaking round me,
And my saddened sinking spirit in her arms
of love upbore, i
Like a lone one weak and weary,
Wandering in the midnight dreary,
On her sinless, saintly bosom, brought meto |
the heavenly shore. {
Like the breath of blossoms blending,
Like the prayers of saints ascending,
Like the rainbow’s seven-lined glory blend |
our souls forevermore. *
Earthly love and lust enslaved me,
But divinest love hath saved me,
And I know now first and only how to love
and to adore. i
Oh my mortal friends and brothers, |
We are each and all another's!
And the soul that gives most freely from its
treasure hath the more. i
Would you lose your life you find it; i
And in giving love, you bind it,
Like an amulet of safety to your heart forev-
€rmore.
i
MARRIED IN HASTE.
«I demand this, because I consider |
marriage with such a girl as I know
Violet Du Hayne to be, the only hope
left of reclaiming you from a life of |
dissipation. On no other condition |
will I advance the large sum for which |
you ask. In spite of all that has passed, |
your still affectionate mother,
“ EUGENIA ARDEN.” |
The written page looked as hard and |
unchanging to Max’s fancy as its au- |
thor. i
There was that bill which Hardy |
had indorsed for him falling due within |
three days. It would be total ruin to
poor Hardy if it was not met. That |
must not be. He had drawn Hardy |
into this scrape, and he must see him |
harmless, at all risks to himself. Max
strode up and down the room, biting |
his long, fair mustache. i
Marriage! He had never seen his |
mother’s ward. Ske had arrived at |
Arden after the estrangement between |
mother and son; but, at all events, |
there was no one else he wanted to |
INArTY. |
What a lovely face was that girl'she |
had met at Mrs. Montfort’s reception !
She had made him feel like echoing |
Geraint's, “There, by God's grace, |
stands the one maid for me !”
“Pshaw I” shrugging his broad |
shoulders’ “A man could not be in |
love with girl he had talked to for
one evening whose very name he had
failed to hear?”
‘What use in reflecting? There was |
but one course open to him to save |
Hardy's honor and his own. :
He sat down, and dashed off in
heavy black letters:
“MoTHER : Youare using the power
given you by my father’s will—as you
have always done—tyrannically. Butl
have no alternative—I accept your
conditions on these terms : First, that
the young lady be told that I am
marrying as my only means of obtain-
ing a sum of money which is a matter
of life and death tome. Secondly, that
the marriage take place to-morrow
afternoon. I will run down to Arden
on the 8 o'clock train. You can
have a clergyman waiting in the grand
drawing-room, who can unite the
happy pair at once. Your son,
“MAx ARDEN.”
There never was a gloomier wedding.
A heavy fall of snow had impeded the
train, so that the early winter twilight
was already falling when Max Arden
stood in the great, dim room by the
side of his veiled bride.
The clergyman hurriedly repeated
the solemn service. The responses
were duly made, and it was done.
« Embrace your wife, my son,” said
Mrs. Arden, with a vain attempt at
cheerfulness.
«Wife |” cried the young man, draw-
ing himself up to his full height, with
ay Jers in his eyes. “I have no wife.
This young lady v~derstands the terms
of our bargain. . made her Mrs.
Max Arden—to 4 wt you could compel
me, mother—but no woman shall be
wife in more than e to me whom
I have not loved and chosen—ay, and
wooed on my bended knees. Is my
rE
ah aia
RS AERA PIERS
NUMBER 42.
—————
horse saddled, Stevens? 1 return to}
town to-night. In the future, as in
the past, our paths lie separate,
® " a * * ¥
Seene-~the heart of the Black moun-
tains, Time September, when they
are at their loveliest, Dramatis pers
son-for one, a tall young man, with
a wide-awake pushed back from his
good-looking, sunburnt face, a gun
over his shoulder, but little thought of
shooting in his mind. He was peering
through the boughs at what? Only a
and of late watched many times from
his leafy covert, feeling, as Olivia says,
her * perfections with an invisible and
subtle stealth to ereep in at his eyes.”
she sat on the side of the
mountain brook, busily sketching; amd
as he watched, her fell
into the little stream.
In a second he had sprung after it,
other
sketch-book
with a low bow, saying: “May 1 not
claim acquaintance by virtue of this
happy chance and our last meeting ¥
« Our last meeting!” The young
lady shrank from him in undisguised
terror,
“Good heaven, Miss Harding! how
Do [ look like a
tramp In my shooting-clothes? In-
deed I am respectable. My name is
Arden—Max Arden. 1 had the honor
of an introduction at Mrs, Montfort's
reception, last winter.”
A sigh of relief, then hesitatingly:
«Oh, ves, 1 remember you quite
but I—I-—you must
excuse me—1 have heard of you since
then, and I—1-—"
“ You have heard of me; nothing to
credit, I fear,” he said, slowly,
after waiting in vain for her to finish,
“ and you wish to decline knowing me.
Isit not so? Well, I must submit to
Then he lifted his hat and left her,
Now which of his wild doings had
come to those dainty ears and brought
this blow upon him? for blow it was,
He was surprised to find how severe a
one. For, after all, what did he know
of her? And yet, with unreasoning
had followed him as he turned away.
Patter | patter! Rig drops broke in
A true pelting,
blinding, mountain storm was coming
up. Arden hastened to take refuge in
a small cave he knew of. Was it kind
The cave
A sketeh-book, an
umbrella, a slim serge-clad figure pre-
sented themselves to his view. He
“Don't go away,” said the fair oc-
“I would not force my company
*“ Pray, pray, don't let me drive you
treated ; are me
severely for my late rudeness. 1 was
so surprised and frightened then—I—I
“you punishing
She put out her hand to detain him.
Like a flash Arden’'s mind went
back to the last time sof fingers had
lain in his—on that strange bridal
day. :
“If you grant meshelter, it is equiva-
he
the cave and seating himself so as to
shield her from the rain which now be-
gan to beat in.
“ Now, you might almost as well be
outside as do that,” said the girl, re-
proachfully. “What a deluge it is!”
peering out over hic shoulder.
The damp air heightened her eolor
and sent little rings of golden brown
hair curling madly over her pretty
forehead, her violet eves shone, and her
face—it was the fairest that ¢'er the
sun shone on.
Max Arden thought so as he an-
swered dreamily :
“I wish it could last forty days!”
“ What a good conscience you must
have!” gayly; “now, I should be too
afraid of being drowned with the rest
of the sinners.”
“ Miss Harding—"
“ Who told you my name was Miss
Harding ?”
“ My guide, Luke Smith.
to know everything.”
“ He certainly seems to know a great
deal.”
“ Jam camping out near here, and
seeing you so constantly, naturally in-|
quired about you. Itis a lonely spot to
see a lady.”
“J am staying at the Mountain house, |
six miles from here,” she explained.
“J drive over every morning to sketch |
He claims
this lovely glen, and the carriage comes |
for me again at 4 o'clock. I should
be going to meet it now but for the |
rain.”
“ Blessed rain I” murmured Max,
The young lady frowned and ap-|
peared to regret the momentary inti- |
macy into which she had been drawn. |
she turned over the contents of her |
portfolio. Once more nature favored |
Max. The wind blew a loose sketch |
to his feet, which he looked at in
“ Why, it's me I" he cried, exultant |
and ungrammatical, “and a capital |
likeness, too.”
“You-—you are quite mistaken in—
in any conclusiogs you may draw,” |
stammered Miss Harding, blushing, |
and clothed with shame as with a gar- |
“You need not imagine 1]
sketched you because—that is—you are |
not to think-—anything.” {
“I don’t. My mind is entirely |
vacant except for a strong desire to
possess my portrait. You probably do
not prize it very highly.”
“I do not prize it at all.”
« And I would give-—even unto the |
half of my kingdom for it.”
“ Would you give that ring which
looks like an heirloom ?”
Instantly it lay in her hand.
“Oh, no! I was only jesting. I
cannot take it.”
“You must. You named your
price and I agreed, so the bargain is |
concluded. It is an heirloom, as you |
supposed; and I rejoice to see it in
your possession. I always meant”
losing his head a little as he gazed at
her flower-like face—* to give it to the |
girl I loved; but now—"
“Well, now?” she echoed, softly,
with averted face.
“Now, I may never tell my love,
because ”—with an effort—“1 am a
married man.”
“ Mr. Arden!”—angrily — “because
of that foolish sketch you think that
I— You say this as a warning—"
« A warning to myself, perhaps.”
“ As if you needed any!”
“You are right. I am past that.”
He buried his face in his hands.
There was a long silence. Then the
girl said, in an altered voice:
“The rain has stopped ; I think I
will go.”
*
i
* * *
Max Arden stood on.the dark ve-
randa of the Mountain house listening
to strains of musie fromthe ballroom,
and watching the dancers dancing in
girl he loved, How more than fair
Presently she seemed laughingly to
dismiss her little court, and came out
alone upon the veranda. Max stepped
forward. He had to apologize for
startling her, but he was afraid she
was sick, he said, as he had not seen
her for so long,
“Only a week,” she answered, cheer-
fully. “It is my mother who was ill ;
but she has recovered now, thank you.
So we are going to-morrow.”
* Going where?’ with an eagerness
he could not repress,
“ Why should 1 tell you, Mr. Arden?"
with cold surprise,
‘That 1 may follow you,
right? Because I love you."
“ So soon ¥'——incredulously,
“Ay;
catch the plague,”
a bitter laugh, * And the pursuit of
By what
rights of man, you know.”
ness to be a woman and she does not like
pursuit, has no
rights ?"" merrily,
“ Donot jest with me”
She was silent Yor a moment,
in soft, vibrating tones:
“No, I cannot
thing serious to say to you, Mr, Arden.
I, too, am married, and, alas! to ahus-
band who casts me off. Hush, and
listen. 1 was persuaded into a hasty
marriage, partly by love of gg mother,
partly, perhaps, by-—interest in
which she had educated me to feel
Besides, I met him accidentally in so-
ciety, and fancied I could—like him,
Max, take your arm away.
me, I was not told by what means he
was forced into marriage! ‘What!
kneeling to me, Max? Suppose some
one should come. Do get up.”
“Not till you forgive me.”
“ Well, in that case” —with pretended
-* 1 had better forgive you
she
Then,
Jost,
at once.”
x * *® *
ried in haste, but he has not yet re-
pented at leisure—nor has his wife,
Battle With a Bear.
Joe Beef, who keeps a saloon and eat-
ing-house for sailors and "longshore-
men. He has a bear pit under his
canteen on Common street, It extends
all along under the
reigned over by a big black bear, weigh-
ing over four hundred pounds. There
are also a she bear and two compura-
One after-
noon recently, while a colored preacher
room,” three American strangers came
to visit the place, and the trap door
was thrown open to show the bears.
While Joe went into the barroom, his
little boy, SIX Years old, went too near
the edge and fell into the den. The old
bears were in a dark corner, but one of
the cubs at once pan toward the child,
who had uttered a frightful scream. The
ing down, caught hold of the little fel-
low and raised him up. The she bear
had heard the child's cries, and, with a
growl, rushed toward the trap door
and seized the child just as he was
being lifted up. The little fellow was
in an instant dragged into the den, en-
circled by the claws of the she bear,
Joe, hearing the noise, came to the
door, and seeing his child as it werein
the jaws of death, did not hesitate for
a moment to think, but leaped from the
floor to the pit, lighting on the head of
one of the bears. He managed hy a
frantie effort to tear his child fromthe
In another instant he
paralyzed spectators. The mo-
ment the child was out of the pit the
she bear growled fiercely and sprang
on Joe, who had no arms to defend
The savage brute seized him
back. Her teeth were driven fully
half an inch into his flesh.
tameness had disap-
peared, it being enraged at having the
child taken away. Joe did not lose
blood. The trousers
and his stockings were saturated with
blood. The child had not been in-
sss ninsoai II a so
He Sat Down,
We were running through South
Carolina when a great big giant of a
fellow with a terrible eye and a voice
like a fog-horn boarded the train at a
station. I think most of the
whom it would be dangerous to argue
with, but the giant wasn't satisfied
He blustered at the can-
ductor, growled at the brakeman and
looked around as if seeking some one
ta pick a fuss with. Everybody an-
swered him civilly, and he had two or
three seats to himself, but the man who
wants a row can generally find some
pretext. About the center of the car
a pale-looking chap about twenty-five
years old occupied a seat and was read-
After a time the
giant rubbed along to where the young
man sat and growled out :
“Stranger, what may be the first
cost of such a hat as yours?”
The young man looked up with a
flash in his big blue eyes and then
turned to his paper without replying.
“Jey! Did you hear me!" roared
the other, as he leaned over the seat
and lifted the hat off the young man’s
head.
Quicker than one could count six a
shining revolver caine from you
conldn’t tell where, lifted itself on a
level with the big man’s eye, and the
white fingers clutching the butt never
trembled a shair's-breadth as a quiet
voice uttered the words:
“Drop that hat!”
The hat fell from the giant's grasp,
and the quiet voice continued:
“Now you sit down or I'll kil
you!”
The muzzle of the weapon was not
six inches from the man's eye, and I
saw him turn from red to white in
ten seconds. He backed away at the
command, sat down in a seat opposite,
and never stood up or spoke another
word during his ride of twenty miles.
He had a “navy” under his coat, but
something in that quist voice and blue
eye warned him that the move of a
finger on his part would crash a bullet
into his head.— Detroit Free Press.
A STRANGE OCCUPATION,
A New York “Professor” Whe Renews Lost
Noses, Ears, Eyelashes, Huo,
On Fourteenth street, not far from
Broadway, New York, is a certain
show window, in frent of which not
less than ten thousand people !
every day. The window rather
larger than usual, projects outward in
bay form, and lined inside with
plate-glass mirrors, Suspended in the
center of the window by line, almost
invisible wires, are two cork legs
which, operated by clock-work, move
in an up-and-down motion as in walk
ing. On shelves of thick glass, sup
ported by depending wires, is the
curious collection that attracts the
thousands of passers-by. Noses, eyes,
ears, joints and limbs, all arranged in
kind of order, Above the
shelves is this strange announcement
in gilt letters:
ston
iN
is
Lixas, Anms, Noses, Evevasnes, Evo,
Mape axp Hexepwsn,
Pror. R. W, Wriantox, Proprietor.
Pushing through the crowd that was
collected around, says a correspondent,
I entered and asked for Professor
Weighton.
A gentleman behind the glass case
nifying glass that was screwed in his
right eye, scanned me carefully, and
not detecting the absence of a nose, or
ear, or arm, or leg, finally said :
“1 am Professor Weighton
can 1 do for you, sir?”
“1 wish to know, professor, by what
process you renew legs, eyebrows and
noses, It seems to me a rather odd
and difficult profession.”
“1t is difficult—you are perfectly
what
with you that the business is at all odd.
It is the simplest thing in the world.
perfecting,” he continued, pointing to
eyeing through the magnifying glass,
pletion, yet I'll venture to say you
couldn't tell me what sort of a nose it
will be, Grecian, Roman or retrousse |"
1 admitted that I would not have
known it was a nose if he had not
The professor smiled proudly.
“1 thought 80,” he said. * By to
morrow morning this will be one of
the prettiest Grecian noses you ever
saw. See what a handsome flesh tint
I am giving it. It is for a lady on
Fifty-segond street.”
“ How on earth did a lady lose her
nose?"
“It was a curious aceident, which
almost rendered her inconsolable.« Her
father is a well-known scientist and
inventor. While watching an interest.
ing experiment in his laboratory a few
Being
{oon
the eccentric of a cog-wheel,
short-sighted she incautiously bent
low. The wheel was revolving rapidly
—& 8iz and a whiz ! and the nose from
the bridge down was shaved clean off,
I'he family physician was sent for and
but, aside from the pain of that opera.
tion, the uncertainty of turning out a
well-shaped nose raised objections, and
I was ordered to prepare a wax substi-
tute”
“Do you mean by ‘natural meat
substitution’ a real nose of flesh?” 1
asked.
“ Certainly. The skin is removed
from a certain portion of the arm, the
proper preparations made, and the arm
then bound tightly over the missing
nose, The flesh soon adheres to the
face, then the arm is detached and the
nose is shaped. The advantage of this
style of nose, while it may not be :
shapely as its predecessor, is its dura
bility. It will never come off. Now,
& wax nose will look very pretty, an
when her friends see Miss B— they
will probably be more than ever in loy
with her beauty ; but it doesn’t last
and will need constant repairing. It
is scarcely so good as a celluloid. Hav:
Well, it may be exaggerated,
Miss B— could never live in a very
Her nose might
and would certainly soften.”
“This very interesting,
is pro-
not recollect
with artificial
do
many people
noses,”
“ This branch of my business is not
We have, however, a good deal
The de-
In addition to the number
of people needing cork limbs, the liinbs
must be totally renewed every few
years and that keeps the business up.”
“ Do you often have to fit ladies with
cork limbs?”
“1 take their measure. Great pre-
cision and care necessary. Great
skill is required to make the cork of
exactly the same size and length as its
fellow, The more perfectly this is
done the less limping you will ob-
serve,
“ Vanity is the strongest point in
some people. The operation of renew-
ing eyebrows and lashes, for instance,
is not at all comfortable, yet you will
see plenty of people come here and
submit to it, even though they ar
already tolerably well supplied in
those essentials, We use real hair and
a needle so fine it is almost invisible,
The hair is threaded through this
needle and run through the skin.”
“I suppose this business is for the
most part confined to the gentler sex?"
“ Not by any means, It is altogether
a mistake to suppose women more vain
than men. Not long ago I had an
order trom a young man of this city
is
lash,
young fellow, even in an ordinary ten-
minute conversation, will close his
eyes at least six times to display his
long, silky lashes. If you will step
this way I will show you through our
operating rooms,” and, entering a door
the professor led me through a suit of
spacious apartments,
A number of young women working
at small tables, each table covered with
little instruments and things, the like
of which I had never seen before,
On some of the tables were noses in
different stages of completion—some
were just out of the mold, others were
modeled and turned, awaiting the pro-
fessor’s finishing: touch, At one table
two girls were threading needles with
fine, silky hairs, and sewing them in
little squares on a thin, transparent
gauze.
“These girls,” said the professor,
“are making some of those beautiful
arched eyebrows you may sometimes
see in ballrooms.
net are the less expensivekind, and are
only used on special occasions.
real brow is very expensive, and can
only be made by a person of great
skill. I have an operation to perform
be present.”
“THE ART PRESERVATIY
Some Interesting Facts Canneoted With the
History of Printing,
1t is difficult to say at what period of
the world’s history people did not have
ideas upon this subject, Ww hic h were the
germs of what was to come in after
The impr ssion of the Land or
foot, or of some other abject, made in
soft mud or clay and then hardened by
time, or baked by the heat of the sun,
must have suggested a simple and in.
telligent mode of conveying an idea,
before the invention of any kind of
writing, Accordingly these and other
sions are found to COMPOSE the chief
characters of tho earliest writings of
which we have any knowledge, and
which are called symbolic. ;
We find certain evidence that more
than two thousand years before our era
a method of multiplying impressions,
or, in other words, printing existed; and
if we come down to the time of the
Hes,
chief greatness to Nebuchadnezzar,
who died five hundred and sixty-one
vears before Christ, we see that on the
brick with which every important
structure was composed the name of
that wicked king is stamped; and the
acters capable of producing an mm
pression. The ruins of Babylon at
this day consist mainly of three
mounds i—1. Babil, probably the
temple of Belos. 2. The Kasr, or
palace of Nebuchadnezzar. This is an
irregular square, about 700 yards each
way, surmounted with the remains of a
square structure, the walls of which
are composed of burnt brick of a pale
together with lime cement and stamped
A mound now called Amran, of irregu
lar triangular shape, and supposed to
be the ruins of a palace older than
N ebuchadnezzar's, for bricks have been
of more ancient kings than he. That
it should have been thought worth
while to print inscriptions upon mate-
dal destined to be built into
dwellings, argues that the process was
not only not an uncommon one, but
also that there probably existed at the
same time a more advanced and more
mestic and ornamental arts. In fact,
we have specimens existing of articles
of different form and sizes, from a foot
high to the size of a signet—to which
purpose the latter were probably ap-
plied as their shape indicated they had
been worn finger rings, or hung
about the neck like a charm or amulet—
and all stamped with some characters.
After this a long time elapsed befpre
the practice of transferring characters
from a die to any substance, or, In
otMer words, printing was known to
any, even comparatively civilized
people.
ax
There is reason to believe that print-
ing from characters engraved upon
wooden blocks was known to the Chi
nese in the sixth century, though we
scarcely hear anything of its applica-
tion for four centuries after until the
advantages of the art became so mani
fest that we are told that in 932 Fang
Taou and Le Yu, two ministers of the
Latter Han, memorialized the throne
have the *' Nine 'ewhich
had hitherto existed only in the manu
script—revised and printed, and in
about twenty VOArs copies were in cis
culation. But it was not until the close
of the thirteenth century that most of
the literature of former ages, which had
also existed only as writing upon man-
uscript, had been printed.
The original method of printing was
frem blocks of wood. The subject to
be printed was written upon paper,
which was then laid face downward
upon a smooth block of hard wood, to
the surface of which the ink was trans.
ferred. All of the wood, except the
inked lines, was then rapidly cut away
with a sharp instrument, leaving the
letters or characters in relief. Each
plate thus made formed a page, and
he printing was done by first inking
shops Bh and then pressing a sheet
paper upon them, either with the
hand or a soft brush, thus giving the
impression. Block printing, after the
Chinese method, was practiced in Italy,
Spain and Sicily for designs on fabrics
of silk and cotton, which were printed
in ink, as early as the last years of the
twelfth century.
The next obvious advance was the
engraving of pictures upon wooden
blocks, and it is generally agreed that
the art was invented toward the end
of the thirteenth century by a member
of the family of Cunijolords of Imola in
Italy.
Movable type, suchas are now used
in printing, were a European invention;
nt practically the art of printing
waited for the development of the
manufacture of paper, which was not
a staple of commerce before the close
of the fourteenth century. And again
we find the Chinese in the advance
here, for they were the first to form
from vegetable fiber the web which
constitutes modern paper. They used
the bark of several trees, especially
the mulberry, the bamboo, reduced to
pulp by beating, the straw of rice and
other grain, silk, cotton and rags of
different kinds.
It is still a question undecided as to
the person who invented, the place and
the time of the invention of movable
types, and the bringing of them into
practical use. The honor rests between
Dutch, who claim the honor for
Laurence Coster, of Haarlem, who died
in 1440, and the Germans, who claim it
for Johann Gutenberg, of Mentz, who
died in 14068; Johann Faust, or Fust,
of Mentz, who died in 1466 ; and his
son-in-law, Peter Schoffer, who died in
1502,
vention in 1423, and generally hold that
Coster was the real inventor, and that
Gutenberg, one of his workmen, stole
the invention and claimed it as his own.
In 1456 Johann Gutenberg completed
the printing of the Bible in Latin, :
’
to LAASSICS
ea
§
Lae
vellum--a fine kind of parchment made
from the skins of calves, kids or lambs
—and the work must have occupied
in England, in 1474: in Spain, in 1475.
scarcely more than are now found in
we art of stereotyping and other
things of recent date of value to the
printer; but a few words may properly
ye said about the power used in print
ing. The first ol earliest impressions
were taken as by the Chinese with
light pressure of the hand or brush upon
the very thin paper on which their
printing was done. Then impressions
were made by laying the paper on the
type and placing on it a planer or
smooth-faced block of hard wood used
for leveling the type before printing,
as
yroof slips are now often taken.
Path, however, were soon invented
for the purpose. There are engravings
as far back as 1520, They were
small, and the force was applied
by means of a simple screw and lever.
In 1620, or 201 years ago, Blacuw
of Amsterdam, Pfo gue! a greatly
improved press, a kind which, with but
The press upon which Benja-
years,
in
min Franklin worked
fice in this city, is of clumsy construc:
tion, almost entirely of wood, and is
known by the maker's name as the
Ramage press. There were many of
them in use as late as 1825, and a fewn
good deal ater,
about the year 1800 Earl Stanhope in-
vented a press enurely of iron, the
frame cast in one piece, and the power
imparted by a combination of the tog-
gle-jeint and lever. The Columbian
press, invented by George Clymer, of
*hiladelphia, about 1817, was the first
important American improvement, the
ower being applied by a compound
Pe er, consisting of three simple ones,
America as follows:
In Mexico in 1530,
In Lima in 15686,
In Cambridge, Mass, in 1639.
In New London, Conn, in 1709
In Charleston, 8. C., in 1730.
In Newport, R. I. in 1732,
West of the Alleghanies, in Cincin.
nati, in 1793,
West of the Mississippi, at Bt. Louis,
in 1808. Washingion Star.
Scenes in Sardinia,
It takes eleven hours from Terra
nova to Cagliari. Up tor Macother the
scenery is dull and monotonous.
which the railroad seems to cut in two,
A stone wall lines each side of the
way to protect the line of rail from
ginesta bush, which covers the whole
country. Here and there a wild apple
tree is seen, and immense bushes of
fern, poor and thin; a stray ox looks
up and bellows at the train as it
along the plain with his cap bag flying
in the wind, Occasionally, also, a
Us,
seen, they were skeletons. An east
wind blows from the hills, but it stirs
neither plant nor beast,
After a conple of hours of this dull
ride we begin to see a few green
patches of flelds, The green, however,
thin and short. It
ashamed to be there.
and colorless. A few
landscape. At one
which looks like a spot of brocaded
satin on the ground.
scenery changes and becomes more re-
stricted. The hills grow nearer and
almost touch the railway. They are
stony rocks,
herds of cattle and flocks of
sheep, watched over by men covered
with lamb-skins,
the landscape. At Macomer are seen
the first houses,
low and eoverad with red roofs. There
the old monofony recommences, varied
by a few cemeteries which lie along
the road.
reached, when a perfect change takes
place.
midst of civilization once more,
are villas and parks and bronze gates,
and the people are dressed scoring
the latest fashion plates,
parts of Sardinia are past, with their
their rough and rocked hills, and their
uncouth men and beasts,
now civilized Sardinia, which
artist friend compared to an
woman with dyed hair and cheeks,
and dressed in ridiculous fashions,
I do not know what made him think
this: but when he told us of his
thought, we others burst out lau thing,
and said he was right. The naked, rug-
ged desert was better than this show
of cultivation. . If we could have
to Terranova and its marshes,
is more beautiful than art.
afterward we entered Cagliari, The
festival had been held
four days. We reached Cagliari on the
evening of the fourth day, and were
still in time to see the country people
who had flocked together in their holi-
day dress. The women are of the
Zingara type, with olive complexions
and large, velvety eyes. They wear
blue or red skirts, plaited very full, and
their necks are covered with jewelry.
Long, thick gold chains are coiled three
or four round their throats. White
veils are on their heads. The
men wear large white wide-awakes,
instead of the black bag-caps.
If looked at they would lower the
Lirim over the face, and turn away, red
with anger. The fishermen of Cagli-
ari wear the old traditional Sardinian
custom, with only a handkerchief on
the neck. Otherwise, modern fashions
have invaded all classes of society at
Cagliari, which is rapidly forgetting its
old Sardinian customs. In the midst
of the crowd, however, we see the
players of launeddas, or pipers—the
pipes being merely reeds with holes in
them Sardinians used to be famous
launeddas players once, and one of
them, who was blind, traveled the
world about twenty or thirty years ago,
astonishing all whe heard him. The
pipes are only a few inches long. The
gamins of Cagliari laugh at the music
now; they have grown to think them-
selves too good for it. They have in-
stead learned the word “flirting,” which
they use in a way of their own, and
not at all American.-—Boston T'ran-
script,
Cranberry Picking.
A cranberry bed, when the pickers
Picking
begins usually about the middie: of
September and lasts until the close of
night toward the close of the season
Cranberry
picking is made the holiday of the
Whole families come and
“camp out,” or live in rude houses on
the grounds through the season, Some
own conveyances, returning home at
night. The picking is done methodi-
cally, each worker having his or her
appointed section. One cent and a
half per quart is paid for picking.
The presence in a field of 150 persons
of both sexes, most of them young,
cannot but be productive of much
mirth and jollity, Laughter and good-
natured raillery abound, and friendly
contests as to expertness in picking
are common, In these contests it is
generally the case that the awkward
lad is left far behind by the deft fin-
gers of the maiden. However, cran-
berry picking is not allin the sunshine,
His cramped position is apt to render
the workman uncomfortable, and
stooping over the wet bogs of a fros
morning is not pastime.—mBos
Traveler. *
LADIES’ DEPARTMENT,
i p———
A Glanes at the Belles of Barly Ages,
Undoubtedly there is much idle talk
| about the wonderful extravagance of
| ladies of the present day, their pursuit
of constantly changing styles, and the
luxuries demanded by those who can,
| or think they can, afford the expense.
One would be led to suppose, in the
{ absence of knowledge to the contrary,
| that these were things of modern
growth, But just Jook at the “style”
they used to put on in early ages, and
their enormous extravagance,
We are told that the ladies of Leshos
slept on roses whose perfume had been
artificially heightened, And in those
| times court maidens powdered their
| hair with gold,
Marc Antony's daughter did not
change her dress half a dozen times a
day, as do the Saratogd graces, but she
made the lampreys in her fish-pond
wear earrings.
The dresses of Lollia Paulina, the
rival of Aggripina, were valued at
2,604,480. This did not include her
jewels. She wore at one supper §1,562,-
500 worth of jewels, aud it was a plain
citizen's supper. The luxury of Pop-
paca, beloved by Nero, was equal to
that of Lollia.
The women of the Roman empire in-
dulged in all sorts of luxuries and ex-
cesses, and these were revived under
| Napoleon I. in France, Madame Tal
lien bathed herself in a wash of straw-
berries and raspberries, and had her-
self rubbed down with sponges dipped
in milk and perfumes.
taught to smile gracefully,
toilet, The use of cosmetics was uni-
versal among them. Aspasia and
Cleopatra (models of fem
{ to keep her hair from Salling out,
Roman ladies were so careful
| wore masks, The Athenian women
Students’ caps of velvet with a
crown, a shirred band, a large bow |
| front, and a bird's wing on the left
| are worn by Joung and
chosen to match the color of the
| costume with which they are worn.
“and pointed low in front, and the open
space filled in with two frills of lace,
‘Sky blue, crushed strawberry and
|crevette squares are used, with the
| edges sealloped or trimmed with lace
| or hemstitched,
| Velvet round hats with high, square
crowns and straight brims in sailor
| shape, are becoming to youthful faces.
| They have two wide bands of velvet
folded around the crown, and a
‘or arrow of gilt, bronze or silver Is |
| thrust in the band,
| Last year's dresses may be easily
| brought into style by arranging a
| panier draped sash of satin surah on
the edge of the basque,
| last year's basques are
| the seams are sewed u
ithe edges. A pel:
| surah over the bosom is added, and
sleeves are trimmed to match, with
| puff at the top, if the wearer
a plaited scarf at the wrist
| stout. The buttons of
| are replaced by small round
| old buttonholes being concealed
| by making the dress lap the other
or if that cannot well be done,
serting a pointed vest ora
Fashion authorities say that a
many plastrons or vests are to be
some embroidered, some plain,
plaited; these may be either of
| dress material, or ig Sand of similar
| ribbon, which is more the
fabric used for trimming.
PE ———
How to Become a Contortionist,
The St. Louls Chroniclesays : Jesse,
with
last
at s
the Kiralfys, was a
‘night as to the
go in order
| to do a first-class contortion act. The
| reader will no doubt be to
sign of rusticity.
dulating in its outline, and losi
| the two eyebrows
| Romans as a beauty.
the face.
lack serge pelisse.
to cherry lips and cheeks and jet black
eyebrows strongly drawn,
like this:
| look really bewitching.
she is a perfect fright.
| taking off at any time.
| cluding nose-rings,
Africa is thus described:
prisoner in his cell
heaven knows what lumber more.”
Fashion Notes.
little people.
or very sober.
little girls’ wear.
shade of this color.
are the first favorites of fashion.
striking, elegant novelties in millinery.
Plush is as frequently used for child-
| ren’s dressy wraps as for larger people.
Little girls wear pelisses similar to
those of their mothers and older sis-
ters,
Little girls’ dresses are even more
quaint and picturesque than in sum-
mer,
Fashionable women wear laced shoes,
but the button boot is by no mans dis-
carded,
Combinations of materials in con-
trasting colors appear in Paris imported
costumes,
A skirt of bright plaid worn with a
jacket of imperial blue makes a very at-
tractive costume, .
Jersey waists in new forms will be
worn by little children, and to a limited
extent by ladies. .
English walking hats are trimmed
with birds and bows of velvet and
have long streamers of ribbon at the
back,
The @lematis of the East is taking
the place of the wistaria, holding its
bloom longer and being more hardy.
Close toques and English hats, that
have been worn for driving allsummer
abroad, are now heralded in New York.
Copper shades with electric blue;
strawberry red with rifle green, and
brown with green, are the contrasts of
color favored for autumn toilets,
Castellated edges make a tasteful
finish for basques and skirt-front
breadths of cloth and cashmere dresses.
They are made more effective by being
welted with a cord or fold of bias silk.
New basques are single-breasted.
When ornamental bust drapery is added
it takes the form of a long guimpe, or
a short plastron, either square or oval,
and made very full by gathers and
folds.
Corded silks outnumber satins in im-
rted dresses, These are to make a
long, slender overdress, with skirts of
rich brocaded silks that have the figures
of plush or velvet thrown up on a
corded silk surface,
oiled blankets is wg hi that
genuine ease and CAD
be acquired only by long practice.
(Mr. Jesse, who is now in his
| twenty-cighth year, go twenty- | |
| two years’ practice,
ae to John Wilsons well-
known circus man of California, at the
| age of six years. At the time he
| to learn he was only an ordinary
not at all remarkable either for strengt
| or agility. When the fous Jerse
| apprenticeship had expired was pro,
Juin a fair contortionist and ;
‘a good salary by Wilson. At this
| time he was able to do “easy »1
| and by continuing the exercise has been
{able to acquire astonishing
| lowed to do any heavy lifting or jump-
| ing, because such exercise contracts and
stiffens the joints.
| “To be able to tickle your ear with
! your toe,” said he, “you have only to
1 take about two hours’ practice daily
for four or five years, and it is best to
| begin early.” The boy who begins
learn is put
| that will make the ts
| out creating muscle. One of
things he is made to do is
foot in hand, lift it u
leg toward the body.
| been done daily for ten
comes a Tair contortionist, to
ceed after the business is learned
‘man must keep sober. Whisky
| beer stiffen the joints, It is also
‘held to be a bad idea to eat pea
‘nuts and other indigestible food. In
| the third act of the “ Black Crook,
where the three performers named
| appear, most of what is done is called |
| * easy kicking "—that is, over
{ heads. “Hard kicking™
| throwing the leg the back, and |
| otherwise pu the joints to an un-
| natural strain. While the
| and Somtottieusl this act nets de
. wildering to the spectator, are
| difficult to the acters, though the
| work is very ex in its nature
The ease and grace which characterize
their movements are the result of years
of training, and cannot be acquired in
a short time with the aid of any balm |
or ointment known.
The Origin of the Thibetans,
The Thibetan legend of the origin of
the people is that in the Jeginting
only one an and his three sons lis
or tents, but led a mi life, with-
out being troubled with the cares of ex-
istence, for the land was not then des-
ert, or poor, or cold, Trees were grow-
ing which afforded choice fruits, rice
flourished without man ha to labor
to raise it, and the tea-plant thrived in
‘the fields that Buddha
changed into stony Thibet |
was then all the more a fortunate
rich land, because these four
men, then the only li crea-
tures in the world, knew of
war and contention, but lived in unity
and peace. At last the father suddenly
died. Each of his sons wanted his
body, to disposeof it in his own way. |
This was the first dispute. The corpse
lay for some days on a large rock, and
the sons avoided one another. At last
the eldest son e a proposition:
“ Why should we be alienated because
a misfortune has happened to us all in
common? Let us be agreed and divide
the body.” They all accepted the Jie
position. The corpse was divided
three parts, and each son took a part.
The eldest son got the head. He went
away toward the east and became the
father of the Chinese, who excel in | r
craft and have great skill in trade
The second son was satisfied with his
dead father’s limbs. He also left his |
home and settled where the great
Desert of Gobi gives his posterity, the | f
Mongols, plenty of room; their cha |
acteristic is restlessness. The :
son received the breast and bowels. |
He remained in Thibet, and from hin
are descended the Thibetan peuple, |
who are distinguished in ordinary in- }
tercourse by good nature, openness |
and cordiality, in war by courage and
enthusiasm.— Popular Science Monthly.
———
Origin of a Present to a Church,
The old story is revived ng
ter church, New Haven, Conn. This
bow! was presented to the churcha
great many years ago by Jeremiah
Atwater, and his name is ved
thereon. The story is that Mr, At
water bought a keg of nails in Boston
When the keg was opened it
found that after taking off a layer of
nails the keg was full of silver dollars,
and it was out of these dollars
howl was made. The late Le
Bacon discredited the story, and
haps the truth will never get
print,