NO DELTH. There is no death; the common end Of life and growth we comprehend Is not of forms that cease, but mend; It is not death, but change, When wastes the seed, the sower sows, Beneath: the clog of Winter snows, The Autumn harvest plainly shows It was not death, but change When Science wrighs and counts the strands In economic Nature's bands, She recollects them in her hands, So show no loss from change, They do not die; our darling ones: From falling leaves to burning suns, Through worldson worlds the legend runs— That death is nought but change. When stills the heart, and dims the eye, And round our couch friends wonder why The signs have ceased they know us by— It 1s not death, but change. RL GN SR. THE UNWILLING GUEST. The old Baron did not require much pressing, but soon began his story: I think, my beard of the Countess Repey—the younger, of course—the bewiiching little sprite, my little black-eyed prin- 0: 88, Mine! 1 only wish she were mine, You must all know her, have all lost your hearts to her, as I have done; yet I, insiguiticant as [ am, have been most fayored, I night! True, there was a chaperone present, but I will pot have my good luck disparaged. fly away with such good luck! One evening, in an evil hour, it oc- ball which place at Arad on the following dispensable at a take night, She immediately ordered her carriage. I was the only person near at hand, ‘Please, dear Baron," she cried, ‘‘escort me to the Arad.” ‘‘Dear Baron, dear Baron!” what an- swer could I give her? “Countess, ma dee , it Erebus; the carriage will have to wonder if even two have safe bridges. We shall be drowned, Countess; our road lies through a forest of vast extent, lonely as the grave, and infested with thieves and murderers, We shall assassinated—I could not protect vou alone! 1 so? Let us have an early cup of tea, and set out nu the morning; we shall reach Arad oy noon, and you will have the whole afternoon for your toilette, Liet us start to-morrow, Countess,” My representations were futile—she would start instanter, You know how obstinate she is, is dark as 88ee be moment,” she wished ‘to recover from the fatigue of the journey.” *“‘How can 1 step straight out of the carriage into the ball-room after being heated, jolted, crushed. and tumbled by the drive?” And, besides, ehe has a mania for driving at night—it is “‘so lovely, so romantic; the stars, the frogs, aud the moonbeams,” These were only pretexts —she was determined to satisfy her whim at any price, Enfin, what should I do? accomy her, « alone in the sweet alternative, I course; her the privilege « the carriage The truth will out; it ple asan ] marks of th Jount favor, Fir she baudbox to my care, then her muff, then ner travelling-bag: lastly a pair of goloshes, Next she fell asleep—deal to conversation, slumbered soundly; occasionally when the carriage jolted over a she would wake with a start: “Where is the travelling-bag? Where 18 the muff? : ANY castle? —a de the former atitude she allowed me i sitting opposite her in cil devil was ressed ; op} confided a all she stone bounet-box? For care, dear Baron!” again; then the chaperone, who was suffering from ¢, began a quer- ulous conversation, whimpering piteous- ly the while. I closed my eyes, feign- ing sleep, Suddenly the carriage stop- ped and began to heel over on one aide, as if it also was about to seek repose, The coschman jumped off the box and came to the window, heaven's sake FIT that we have lost our way,” “What matters?” answered the Coun- tees; ‘does not the road lie before us? Drive on, of course." “There is a road, my lady, bul where does it lead?” “It must lead somewhere,” “But I am afraid it will lead us to a place not altogether safe,” “What a fool you are! Every place is safe-—where are we now?” “In the forest of Szalonta.” “Well, this forest ends somewhere, If I remember nght it two hours to drive through it either ” Way. tured, “Is he paid for being afraid?’ “He is afraid, dear Countess, that something disagreeable may happen to you.” “That's no affair of his,” “Or that the horses." “Well, that's his lookout,” “That there are some poor devils in this forest who try to get their living by" “Folly! Isn't our coschman a poor devil himself?” “Yes, yes; but he means those poor men who are iu the habit of relieving \one of a horse, and not nnfrequently of a carriage, too, Countess, ma decssce, take our lives, or eyen worse. had my revolver with me,” *‘Sc that yon might have it stolen, 100,” jested the fair fiend. Thereupon she opened the carriage door, and, be- fore I could prevent her, leaped grace- fully out into the darkness, “Oh, what a lovely might! How fragrant the forest is! how the glow-worms sparkle! Look at them, dear Baron!” “Look? What am 1 too look at? It is pitch dark, I cannot see any- anything.” “Nothing? Is not that alight gleam- ing nuder the trees yonder?” My blood curdied, We were close to If 1only the robbers’ den. The cwachman had also descried the light; he now suid, in a voice which resembled that of a man who was being hanged: “That is the inn, my lady, frequented by the poor men,” “Capital! Drive to the inn, cosch- oan, for we ®ve no other retuge for the nignt.” I was in despair, ‘For heaven's sake Countess, what are you going to do? This is a notorious den of thieves, where we shall all be assassinated; the host is a confederate; many travelers have already met their death, Only lately I read in the papers—" The diabolical creature interrupted me with a loud laugh, ‘““I'ese are only old women's tales,” she said; ‘““who is afraid of such imag- inary bogeys? If there were a hotel anywhere near, we should of course drive to it, As it is, we must put up with the tavern,” So saying, she told the coachman to follow her slowly with the carriage; she meant to advance on foot, to show him the way. Remonstrances were usédless, she threatened to penetrate the sarda alone if we would not accompany her, The little Countess would have | done it, tool As we approached the | audible. “Strange!” jested the Countess, ‘“‘we wanted to go to a ball, and here we suddenly lit upon one, How very for- tunate!” With these words she walked up to { the door, For a moment I reflected that | to betake myself to the forest; but it | would pot have been right to forsake her, and, besides, I had no choice, for Mlle. Cesarine, the chaperone, had | relinquish, | dead with aspen leaf, hear the wild shouts with which those { assembled in the tavern accompanied | their dance, fright, and shook like an door and walked mm, We entered a long, low room, stained with smoke. that I beheld at least fifty bandits dane- jing and singing before me. quently, when I | ered myself, I counted them, and it ap- peared that they amounted to nine in all, ineluding the landlord and the three gipsies who formed the band, Five, however, are plenty! I wished them all at Jericho. Five muscular, gigantic fellows! Their heads a most the ceiling. Their pistols | one—were lying in a corner of room. I noticed them at the { sight. ‘““Well, we shall be lucky if we ever leave this den alive,” thought I, When the fellows saw us they paused in their dance, and stared at us with great sparkling eyes, Our temerity astonished them. My little Countess { advanced into the room, and with a bewitching smile addressed them as follows: ‘Pray forgive us for having disturbed you in your entertainment; have ost way, and as the darkness pre- vented from driving fartner, we beg Subse had the each we our us you to gve us shelter for the night.” One of ¢ i i iva oer x ve i { MIVAD 8 | was the handsomest them all, He tw rled moustache f1 his took off he andits her-—he mest wis of his is spues bowing he said towards 11 of Ee Rb til@® yt was Fekete Fakete Joiz:. ti not ps that eveuiag, and so of inquiring who it was bhomor to address, Before 1 could make a sign to prevent her, the Countess recklessly answered: blood rie gand of gand reckoning {18 the wat bh bows LE Lhe ay] was as | OOK the liberty the he had ‘Countess Repey, residing immediate neighborhood.” “I have the good fortune to know the name, lhe old Count once sent a bullet after me, but missed his aim. | Pray be seated, Conntess,” Here was a pleasant acquaintance! The Countess sat down Fekote seated himself beside her. | never asked me to sit down: he seemed utterly unconscious of my pres- ence, “Where were you driving at such a late hour?” he inquired. “Don’t tell him! Don't tell him!” 1 telegraphed with my eyes. “To Arad, to the casino { (“Farewell to your ball dress jewels!” thought I.) “Indeed! It was a lucky chance tor { us that brought you here, We are giving a ball too, and if her ladssuip | does not despise our invitation, I think I can promise her a delightful evening, | Our gipsies are excellent musicians; | they play csardas that make the blood be a your ball.’ { “Let us have your song of played.’ : : ithout another word the barefaced | fellow, as soon as the music began | slipped his arm round the waist of the { fmir Ccuntess and swung her into the | middle of the room: Another impudent fellow rushed up | fainting from fright and agitation, and { pulled her up to dance, After a few | tains he | was repeated until the poor creature { found herself in a sad plight, The Countess, on the other hand, was | gliding about amongst all the noise with | the same calmness and enjoyment as if | Arad, | Bhe was never lovelier or more sedue- | tive than at this moment, I have often | Sven Hungarian daueing, both at the | theatre and at balls, but I shall never | forget the way in which these two | danced. First the Betyar with majestic | steps led his partner once or twice round the room, his face proud, his gestures imposing. Suddenly he sprang into the | muddle of the room with a loud shout, the fiery Hungarian music waxing wilder | and wilder, Slowly, with steps full of grace, the Countess commenced the dance, She | Hattered about like a butterfly, touehing | every flower, but alighting on none, | Now and again the bandit bent over her, as if abont to embrace her; suddenly stopping, he would throw back his head and turn aside with wonderful grace, the bewitching little fairy float- ing towards him at one moment as it about to throw herself into his arms, and thither in pursuit of her, the glance of their eyes alone showing that they formed one couple. At last the Betyar turned round complete wishing in his rage to dance quite his place before her, their hands met, and he waltzed round with her at light. ning speed, It almost made me giddy to watch them, 1 feared all the time that the unblush- ing rogue would, in his excitement, be rude to the Countess, opportunity. One misdeed more or less price on his head-—the Countess was quite in his power, | that if he forgot himself or displayed any impropriety in his manner toward | the Countess 1 should make a rush for | the pistols and shoot him down like a dog. What are you smiling at? Parole d'honneur! I was bent upon it! Nothing of the kind occurred, Fe- kete led the Countess to her seat, rever- ently kissed her hand, and then turned to me, Laying his hand tamiliarly on | my shoulder, he said: | dancing,” (Insolence! *“‘Old gentleman’ to me!) “Thank you, I caunot dance.” “Indeed, that alters the case.” | turned away to the Countess: | us, your ladyship, for not being duly prepared for the reception of guished guests, I hope you will be content with what we have; it 1s not much, indeed, but none the werse for | that,” He alluded to the supper. It was sumptuous banquet, I can tell you! A | small kettle filled with slices of lamb was placed on the tabie, and the whole band gathered round it. The riches of | the world plate; each person fished scraps meat out of the kettle with a pocket. | knife and a bit of bread! My | Countess ate as though she had had nothing for three days. The captain of the band himself selected for her, and cut several pieces of whi Her appetite was excellent. Fekete suddenly remarked that I was takin n the repast, He first frowned ominously, but soon recovered his temper, and smilingly inquired why I did eat, “Eat away! eat away, old gentleman: this will fatten you-——stolen meat is very { nourishing." “Thank you,” I answered, “it is too highly seasoned for me.” The wine of course kulalsch-—such people know nothing of After their custom Fekete drank first himself, Rabbing the neck f the vessel with his wristband, he handed the wine to the Countess, who took it readily, and, putting her lips to it, drained a hearty draught, Think of it, my friends! she drank, and a good deal too! Onoce my “Drink, old boy” (*'old boy” He “a Tiedlan AERAAE te bread, £ no part 1 not Td {IBA8eH, turn, he had 0 wake ished to intoxi ir an ¥ ake our lives, How they could drink, too! Ti only number, they emptied a 08k of wine, and from tly sober Whilst the others took to the gipsies again approached your h fey well, ough . MyYe 1080 the table rio rf pe pt LA some wine y the captain nmble servant: well, old gentleman” (“Devil take yoa, with your ‘old gentleman!’ ” thought 1); *‘yon don't eat, drink, or dance? How do you pass your time? Dou you play cards?” He took a pack of pocket, “Now,” thought I, “he wants to find out how much money I have,” “I don't do that either,” I answered: { “I have never played,” { ‘No matter. I'll soon teach you a game—it's very easy. [Look here! 1 | put one card here, and another there, | Yon stake on that, 1 this; who- cards from his on stakes," The shameless fellow wanted to teach {of that game | my estates! had not cost me two of Yet 1 had to allow him to {teach me, I had a little silver and some coppers in my pocket-—this I thought I might risk, “What! do you want to play for cop- pers with me? tor, sir? Here is the bank,” He threw a whole pile of brand-new ducats on the table, I had a few gold | pleces in a pocketbook; tremblingly I a one on & card, | shuffled, and I won, The robber paid | At no price would I venture to | take up my winnings, take, same thing, For the third, fifth and sixth times I won. Thick | drops of perspiration covered my fore- head. it is not exactly one of the pleasures of life to win money from a robber, The seventh time also the stakes were mine, 1 quivered like an aspen-leaf. Why had I not had this ill-timed luck at Presburg during the Diet? How ardently I prayed that Providence would relieve me of the money nnd allow the robber to win for once! Vain the wishl--for the eighth time also I was the winner. Now in- deed I was a dead man, “Old boy,” said the robber, “you must be in love with the beautiful Countess, or you would not have such good luck at cards,” The man still had the face to joke at my expense. My heart beat as if 1t would burst when he shuffled for the ninth time. “There it is, you've won again!” Fekete struck the table with his fist so that the gold jingled, and rose from his seat. ‘If you went on winning like this, old gen- tleman, I might in an hour lose all the money of the neighborhood,” he eried, | fresh with a laugh, putting the remaining pieces of money in his pocket, ! the sum which I had won, Proud as a | hidalgo, he cast a glance of withering soc rn at me, “What do you take mé for, sir? Put | throw you and it out of the window.” Good God! what was I to do with this money, which had doubtless already been the cause of bloodshed, and would probably lead eventually to my own de- struction? In my trepidation I threw it, large { sum as if was, to the givsies, I regret. | ted the act at once; it betrayed the fact | that I was rich, and that money was no | objeot to me. The gipsies overwhelmed | me with thanks, and offered to play me anything 1 liked, I sent them to the Countess to be rid of them, { much pressing the Countess, with the { voice of a syren, set up one of her | favorite Volkslieder. Forgetting in the perfection of the melody all the sur- rounding circumstances, I applauded as madly as if 1 were in my opera box at Pesth, The bandit captain applauded just as heartily and volunteered to sing himself, He favored us with one of of every stroet, turned to me: “Now, old gentleman, it is your turn; | we must have your song.” I was in asad quandary, I singl— | under such circumstances, too!—I who, except the song ‘‘Fare the well, thou i silent house!” had never been able to learn a tune in my whole life “]—1 cannot —]1 can't sing at gr The song ended, he BlOg | all (Tne fiend of a woman who had got | us into this fix always laughs immoder- ately when I absently begin to hum an operatic air, I Lave a high squeaking voice. A peacock is more melodious, ) The Countess begged me in French hurtful to all, That was all that was wanting-—what was 1 to do? Con valeed with terror, my heart transfixed as it were with fear, 1 “Fare thee well, thou silent house!” I sang in a soul-stirring, yet ear- splitting fashing., Painfully enough I got half-way through my song; whet in my third strophe, by unlucky mischance, I made ap agonizing shriek, The Countess could no lon herself, 1 burst into a hearty laugh, The also began to laugh; and, lastly, 1 in the though 1 cause for ment, The dance De an ger contain ut bandits myself joined had little chorus, merri- was then renewed, The Countess was unwearying. They danced till dawn, Not till the sun’s first rays began to peep through the windows did she interrupt the festivities and beg her partner, as it was hugh time, to have the horses put to, “We shall now see their true aspect,” thought I; “may God have mercy our souls,’ The robber coachman and horses harnessed that the carriage parture, “Of course on went out roused the servants, had the the and then announced they mean to murder us ey ied Zoeried, ach the OC ong tions cond had was hogan ree ber very ict, and to remind hes the danger to exposed, from wh eh authority alone had rescued her. Who knows what might have happened to the Cot bad I not been with ber? The humiliation, too, of dancing ihe 1 with Belyars till daybreak! She list whea I had finished, she said: “Apropos of daybreak, dear are you not sleepy?” “Not in the least,” I answered, cross. iy. “Then be so good as to sing me the song which yon left unfinished.” Yon may imagine how quickly I be- came sleepy, I had flattered myself that the Coun- tess would fain purchase my silence with some of the sweetest marks of her favor, How mistaken 1 was! wilh 3 how great been Wich she my nteca Jaron, hour later all the fashionable story, She even robbed me of this slight satisfaction. She was yet she was queen of the ball, Bhe pleaded weariness as {ean well believe she was weary after { foundedly tired. | 1 hastened to the ecard-room, “I am playing lansquenet at one table, 1 shall pluck you, my pigeons.” Nicely I did pluck them--I lost all my money, and incurred a debt of a thousand gul- den, Hix months after these even's [ read that he wonld be executed according to law in that town. I at once hastened to tell the news to our little Countess, "What a pity!” she remarked, laying down the paper; ‘‘he was such a charm. ing dancer!” Paper may be stuck on wood by moans of this solution; Gum arabic, half-ounce; powdered-gum tragaocanth, half-ounce; water, one and one-half-oun- ces, and acetio acid, 20 dro It will cause labels to adhere very flrmly with- out staining them, unless the paper 1s of an unusually bad quality, A clear solution of gum arabic applied onoe or twice is all the varnish required in fin- ishing for most purposes, =A 10,000 spindle cotton mill,to em ploy 500 hands, is about being com- plated in Sela, Ala, The American Soldier, On entering the office and making his | wishes known, says an intelligent United | States soldier, tha recruit is taken to a side room, stripped and examined by | the doctor, after which an outfit of elothes, consisting of blouse, cap, | drawers, stockings, shirt, shoes, pants, | and blanket is issued to him, He signs | & blank form for the clothes he Las just {the officer, A note at the bottom of the form declares that all spaces not ' used to denote articles drawn shall have #n red ink line drawn turough them, to prevent any person having charge of { the same [rom inserting other articles | of clothing than those drawn after the blank has been signed. This filling is never done, and when the recruit | himself charged with clothes he uever | drew, and is truly fortunate if the com- never had, As there are several grades of clothing he often gets the poorest and is charged for the best, whiie when any of the recruiting squad draw clothes i they draw the best and pay for the poor- est, After drawing his uniform he is informed that he must dispose of his citizen's clothing as he will not be al- lowed to keep it, The sergeant or one of his men accompanies him to a dealer in old clothes, who offers him one | twentieth what his suit is worth, He refuses to part with them at the price { but is told by the sergeant that h not running aronnd town with him | as he has other duties to perform, Not & Can- be | takes what is offered, knowing h posed upon, and returns to the office. | Had he kept lus eyes open he might have seen ball explain why his clothes, When, at last, he is shipped with a i number of others to the depet, he is again examined, and, having passed, is put out to drill, His drill master, times ont of ten, is a Bwede, German, or foreigner of some sort, whose slight fund of English is composed principally of oaths. Under such a teacher he does progress very rapidly, for which failing he receives an ample share of abuse, he could get no more for Line not seted to tell about the cleaning recruits at the depot bj st sutler, It # brush, one blacking brush, hair brass brush, two combs, one cake of soap, button mall paper of tripoli for cleanin buttons and a box of blacking, Id not ask the cost of these articles, bu on reaching the oompany found §3 charged for sutler Now the brass brush, button stick and poli, 1 have seen the other articles sold in Chatham street for fifty cents and of a better quality. After the recruit reached his company and drill he is assigned for company and draws ane As the price of these clothes is taken out of his pay he usually serves six months or more before he draws any mouey. i fd WO Lhe consists of one 4 $6 ’ * q on Bll RE EY 8g Bik learned his inty wi er out! th his 4 i { 4 1 Hn iv OF ciothes, ———— i —— What's the Row? DUE AWAYIDR iran tipr PIRI safely beu “What's crossly. ‘Can't m your "bus? The driver was bis hands wielded erey, anol i another ¢ for swellering passe { 8 rushi”™ sa ? } f ager ‘What's the varying his question as | nickel. “We're racin'!”’ barked voice strangely resembling the a high pressure tug-boat w | barge in tow. “With whom!” asked the seeing nothing but a cheap cab and a dry goods truck pear the Dus “Back there,” gasped the driver, { Jerking hus the over nis shoulder, Half a block down Broadway a Fulton ferry bus was swinging clear ia He 0 the driver, in ith a heavy of | & clear stretch of street. “We've raced up and down Broadway, beiween Fullon street and sireel, every day for two I've beat bim every time. He's a fresh { young man, he is, an’ he's got a good | team, but I baven't drove "bus for twelve year to be lsid out by a young cub from a street car Line,” Then the old driver and cursed roundly at a truck-driver who was blocking the war. There was a momentary pause, and when the street the white horses of the "bus were stretching their front of the Bouth ferry | ‘bus. ‘Ihen the race began in earnest The driver of the grays shouted, shook lus fists, and invited his rival to on behind," but the old man confined his whole attention 10 the rare art of cutting the hair off his horses’ ears with the cracker of his whip. Neck and neck the "buses ran for a block. Then they plunged into a wedge of wagons-—a slow. moving current of black, with white umbrellas showing above it, like upturnca boats on a troubled sea. “I've got "im now,” smd the old driver, reining in has horses, “He can’t drive in a crowd, you know. Street car drivers don’t know how. There! See imi" The grays became blocked behind a one-horse truck, and the young driver, with his hat and coat off, swore hike a pirate, “Swing that horse around apd let ne pass!” be howled, The driver of the truck turned upon him a cold, calculating blue eye. “An’ how would I swing hum?" be sneered, with withering sarcasm. The Fulton ferry weeks, and Fulton ferry heads past the | ‘bus next became entagled with a back, but the driver cursed himself loose, Then he charged up the street, scattering people right and left, and making a hot race for two blocks, At Fourth street Le got hope- lessly mixed up with a coal cart and 8 south bound ‘bus of the Wall street line When the South Ferry ’bus turned the angle at Grace Church he was hopelessly in the rear, snd with a strieg of trucks and part of a funeral procession yet wo over- come, ‘““Bame way every day,” sald the old driver, as the passenger prepared to get down. ‘‘If the street was clear, he'd give me a kot race, but you see, he can’t drive. it’s a science, drivin’ 18.” semm——— A ——— Tricks of the Flower Boys. “Buy a bckay, mister? All fresh flowers, ten cents each,” Any afternoon or evening, until near. ly midnight, a little fellow with bright eyes, dirty face, and a basket of bat. tonkole bouquets on his arm, can be in the neighborhood of Twenty- street and Broadway, New York, acoceting every passer by with the above invitation, He works witha will, and seems to enjoy it. A few nights ago he saluted the re- porter: “Won't you have one, sir? I've only a few left, aud it's getting late, Buy one to help me out; they ave nice “Isn't it pretty late to be out with reporter asked, “Oh, no, this is ime to sell There fellows snd ie the t of ust 15 lots Hold on now, and see me do it, Here comes a dude and his girl The couple referred I'wenty-secona street, and up Broadway, They were just rounding the when the flower boy made iis assault, He addressed himself to the young woman: ‘Won't you have They are fresh prety « “(ret came to up fryer 3 warneq corner bouquet, miss? “ and nice, Have a ne out of the way,” growled the asket, “Oh, you good-looking buy ry ta the t have such a r if you cannot 1 uet when , With a nd the evel hat's the way we catch them,” said sllow, as the couple passed sil you I can fetch them "most make much money on the 13 h, that depends on how many we I made a dollar and five cents to- and : out since 1 velock this afternoon, Bometimes I make a good deal more,’ ““What is the most you ever made in ¥ basen "in ail nty- s dollars, clear money. two years ago at the fair, I s $13 « day On An excursion up river, know I go out on the ne You whe flowers?” he flower dealers, and s myself, Pretty soon Cap en ugh to sell the piece, and “Where do you get your ‘Buy them of mage the bou jue lowers will get ch bouquets for fi then we will it vé Ooents a AEE IDoTe. EE ————— A Royal Matchmaker Outwitted. isy fr arin y he > ¥ h ix tf oiel 3 [| SEN owen figure, Was at her; u will be passing 1 fare a aed . Potsdam, and will no doubt to the commandant, receiv. . dollar for your trouble.” But women, even when tall, are not so easily utwitted as Kirklands, Josephs, and the ike. ri knew the King by might wing thst 10 refuse probably bring her a from the rattan, accepted near the gate of und there a oid to whom she entrusted the delivery of the er, honestly banding ver the dollar ‘hen forthwith ards home. The com. be note, and found ham. ordered 0 marry the bearer 0 a gigantic Ireh grenadier mamed (IM Dowall). He robbed his there could be no doubt about The gren- for, and then began a The man was in absolute Such a mate for one of his thews yf ri he m1 the note woul fo. s § she 1 itie mwonedd t »eneq i self Macdoll adier was sent CUnous scene. GespAIr, The proposed wife, on the contrary, was quite ready to submit bersei! to the orders There was no escape; to refuse farther would be flat mutiny, and The mistake was not discovered vext imoroicg, when Fredenck, finding himselt thwarted in lus designs for the development of giants in Germany, con. ill~matched til the couple, ——— Assia Burgundian Tapestries, The restoration of another of the Grandson and Murten, has just been The work was commenced some years ago by Fraulein Katharina Puller, the sister of the heraldic artist. Experts say that no one else could have executed the task so skilfully and reve- rently. Without some sort of attention the tapestry must have fallen to pieces, One of its companions, the tent-carpet of Charles the Bold, was restored about five years ago. These works are judged to have Leen in part wrought at Arras, on the frontier of the industrial Flan- ders, and in part at Bruges. They are in wool, interwoven with gold and sil- ver thread, and were mo piecewise and afterward joined together. The subjects are partly religious, partly his- torical, and partly heraldic, One of them represents the legend of the ‘‘Heiligsprechung” of the Emperor Trajan, ~Silk is now grown in twenty of the United States,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers