SHEPHEBD COWLEY IB PRISON,
A Minister's Bxpsrtsnce mm m Ossvlrt ss
Blukwull's IslssS.
Rev. Edward Cowley, who was sen
tenced to one year's imprisonment in
the penitentiary on Blackwell's Island
for ill-using and starving the children un
der his charge in the Shepherd's Fold, a
New York charitable institution, is now
undergoing his punishment. A New
York paper gives the following graphic
account of his first day's experience as
a convict:
Arrived at the penitentiary, the party
adjourned to the inner office, where the
prisoner was introduced to Warden
Fox, who, in response to his earnest
prayers, allowed him to wait three
quarters of an hour, In expectation of a
stay of proceedings. To the warden
Cowley said: " I didn't wnnt to come
here, and I feci terribly about coming,
but now that I'm in for it I propose to
take the bull by the horns. I shall give
up all hopes of getting out, and settle
down to work like a man." The war
den shook his hand and said: "I'm
glad to hear you say that Mr. Cowley.
When a man oonies hern and puts on
our shoes, the best thing he can do is to
walk in them under the guidance of the
rules. Do your work well, and don't
give your keeper an opportunity to crit
icise you. That's my advice to you."
The warden added that if he had a me
chanical turn he might find something
to do in tho blacksmith shop or the
shoe shop. "Yes," said Cowley, ear
nestly, with the tears standing in his
eyas, " I want to work as hard as I
can. to kill time and keep from think
ing."
At 1:30 o'clock the ex-shepherd gave
up his hopes of a stay and resigned
himself to the hands of the prison bar
ber. His glossy iron-gray beard and
whiskers, whieb have been his pririo
during the twenty-five years of his min
istry. were eut off short, and his chin
shaved and trimmed till it was as
smooth as a Dutch choose. He was
stripped of his clothing, placed in one
of the three bath tubs ranged along the
wail, and hot water turned on till the
rooms were filled with a cloud of steam.
Altera refreshing hath he dressed him
self, and, putting on a clean shirt and
striped trousers, stepped upon the
scales in his bare feet and was weighed,
touching the beam at exactly 137
pounds. Then he mounted a measuring
machine provided with a crossbar ana
post marked off in inches. The cross
piece was adjusted over the shepherd's
gray hairs by a fellow convict, who
sang out to the recording clerk, " Five
feet two and one-half inches." which
was duly entered in the prison books as
a part of the description.
After this ceremony was completed he
was dressed in prison garb, and then
taken to the shoe shop. Mr. Cowlty
was introduced to the foreman of the
shop, who consigned him to the care of
an instructor, who in turn set him to
work cutting out leather for the soles of
the shoes. He was given a bench in the
front row, near the middle window
and under the eye of the keeper. Be
fore going, Mr. Ambrose enjoined the
keeper to mark for punishment any
prisoner who insulted or taunted the
new comer in any manner. After the
olfigers had left Mr. Cowley found some
difficulty in cutting the soles, and was
accordingly provided with a punch, and
instructed to punch holes iu tne leather.
It was a strange sight, the bare-headed,
pallid-faced man, bending down pa
tiently and resignedly to liis unaccus
tomed task, handling his tools with the
clumsiness of a beginner, and yet work
ing away with the determination to do
the best he could and give his keepers
as little cause of complaint us possible.
At 5:30 o'clock the men quit work
and marched in lock st p to dinner. Mr.
Cowley came the last but four in"the
shoe shop division, and found great
difficulty in keeping step with his fel
lows. At times he would almost fall
out of the line, and there was always
more or less space between him and the
man ahead o f him. He ate sparingly of
the mush and molasses set before him
and seemed glad when supper was over
and he could seek the seclusion of his
cell. In closing the door at tho word of
comn and his "greenness" was again
observable, and he was in danger or be
ing marked for tardiness, until the con
vict ahead of him—a stalwart, good
natured youth stepped to his relief and
showed him how to close the grating.
Deputy Warden Ambrose, who person
ally saw the shepherd safely into his
cell for the night, says the other prison
ers have treated Cowley with kindness
and consideration, and manifested no
disposition to exult over his fallen for
tunes. This is the more noticeable from
the fact that a considerable number were
prisoners during Cowley's chaplaincy in
1871, when he ordered prisoners into the
dark cells for coughing during service.
The cause of his dismissal at that time
was his refusal to go into the smallpox
hospital to administer spiritual conso
lation to the sick patients. The shep
herd's cell—No. 5 on the second tier
is barely four feet wide, with just room
enough for him to lie down on the nar
row canvas cot which fills it. On Sun
days he will sit under the same pulpit
from whioh he preached to the prisoners
nine years ago. He is the first regulnrly
ordained white clergyman that ever
prved a term on the island.
A Combination o Ralls.
A few years ago there was on a Texas
cattle ranch a largo and valuable im
ported Brahma bull, the acknowledged
'hampion of the range. Two graded bulls
seemed to be the obiects of his dislikes
and he never missed an opportunity for
felling them to the ground. These two
bulls were also never seen to meet each
other on friendly terms. One morning,
however, the herdsmen observed them
standing with their horns locked and
their noses almost touching the grass,
yet there was nothing in their actions
that indicated an unfrimdly spirit.
They appeared to be communing about
something. This attitude continued a
few minutes, when one of the balls
started off in a heavy trot, nttering an
angry, subdued bellow, and lashing his
tail. The other followed a short dis
tance behind. On they went to where
the Brahma bull was grazing. The
meeting, as usual, resulted in the Brah
ma promptly knocking over the first
null that approached, but just as be was
in tho act the other ran up and drctve
his horns into his side. The Brahma
staggered a few steps, fell and soon died.
The two graded bulls then qnietly
walked off in different directions, and,
although they remained in the herd
long afterward, they were never again
seen fighting.
A Minnesota man is pursuing a party
of gypsies, who break cimp whenever
he gets near them. He thinks they
have stolen his little girl, three yearc
old, who disappeared a few months ago.
FOB THB FAIR BIX.
CMtHM Of Ik. Ilium.
Dressy costumes for street wear dor
ins the spring Mid snmmer are made
with a fancifully cut aurtout, or radin
gote, as It is also called, and a foil short
skirt bordered with a heavy thick
ruche, or else a cluster of narrow plait
ings. The idea in Buch costumes seems
to be that of dispensing with all drap
ery. and giving the desired roundness
by the fbllness of the skirt, also by the
richness of the material used in the
skirt. The fancy for directoire styles
has brought this undrnped toilette into
fashion, and it has also contributed the
exaggerated revers collar and pockets
which belong to the directoiro cos
tumes. Brocade ia chosen for tho long
coat, and either plain satin, silk of
heavy quality, satin dc Lyon, or velvet
for the skirt. Black directoire suits
are very stylish, with facings of satin,
either red, cream-color, or heliotrope.
showing on tho coat. Single-breasted
coats havo the wide notched directoire
collar set on, while those with double
breast have it cut as part of the
coat. The seam at the waist line,
with the pockets set there, is
used to give u short-wuistcd appearance.
The back is made of the two middle
forms, and a short side t*>d v on each
side beginning in the armhole. Below
the waist line the seams are left open,
and the skirts are lined with colored
twilled silk, or else satin; this gives
four straight hanging pieces of the coat
skirt. Two large buttons of enamel or
of bronze, or else painted pearl, define
the waist in the middle seams of the
back, and under these buttons the waist
lino seam begins, as the middle back
forms are the only ones that are con
tinuous. The skirt has four straight
breadths, and a single gored braulth,
which is in front. The width at tho
liottoiu is about four yards. Sometimes
linings, and indeed weights, are added
to these skirts; but this is superfluous,
as most ladies tyke great comfort in the
slight weight of these new costumes,
and also in the fact that fifteen yards
are now sufficient, when formerly from
twenty to twenty-five were required,
A broad band of the brocade will serve
for trimming at the bottom, or, when
economy is the first requisite, the skirt
may be left quite plain; but there is a
much prettier effect given when a wide
ruche or a cluster of three or four fine
knife-plaitings borders the skirt. A
black brocaded satin surtout, lined with
lavender satin, and worn over a full
skirt of plain satin de Lyon, makes a very
rich costume for the street. Dark green
brocade is very handsome faced with
cream or old gold, or else with red satin,
and a plaiting of the red satin is then
placed around tho foot of the green skirt
byway of "illumination.'' Bended
cords, with passementerie spike* rather
than tassels at the end, are draped around
the hips to hang in front or on the left
side. Sometimes a Iwaded fabric is used
for the directorie collar, cufTs and pocket
flaps of plain black satin coats.
1.-adh-s who object to surtout suits be
cause they are not used in the house, as
many short dresses now are, have bro
caded snirted coats of medium length,
with plain silk <w satin de Lyon skirts
trimmed with brocade like the coat,
lengthwise tiimmings of brocade are
considered most effective, such as an en
tire front breadth out out in forked
tongues at the lower edge, and made to
rest there at the foot upon two or three
fine knife-plaitings, which are a,so con
tinued across the side gores, and some
times ali around the skirt. A brocaded
panel revers on each side gore, showing
facings of satin its whole length, is an
other design for trimming such skirts;
the front breadth is then wrinkled
slight ly, and the back is covered by two
straight breadths shirred in clusters, or
at most very irregularly draped; for
stout ladies two and a naif or indeed
three full breadths are sometimes worn,
hanging straight and plain in the back,
with very deep slurring on thetournure.
Apron effects, shirred scarfs and moder
ate puniers are, however, still used by
those to whom they are becoming, and
they will remain popular during the
summer l>eoause they are so well adapted
to grenadines, fine buntings nnd other
transparent fabrics. TheTallien over
skirt, open up the left side, and scarfs
that hang in Oriental style down the
left side, where they end in tassels, are
favorite designs for such drapings.—
Basar.
S'Mhlon SUM.
Beaded trimmings are in great vogue.
Some of the new suits are flounced to
the waist.
Everything odd, everything quaint is
considered stylish.
The fashionable hat of the summer
will lie a broad-brimmed Tuscan straw.
Mercutio plumes and Prince of Wales
tips will be the feathers worn this sea
son.
Jet fringes, passementerie and the
new " blackberry buttons " of fine jet are
used on rich black dresses.
For fnll-drcss bodices a new cut is
coming in, viz., high on the shou'ders
and en c<eur back and front. It is not
becoming.
Polonaises are too useful to lie set
aside, and are being resuscitated in Paris
as "over-dresses," often made with
paniers.
Black polka-dotted grenadines are
made up over black satin, and there arc
very fine black cashmeres embroidered
with polka dots to be made up with
plain black cashmere.
Long scarfs of black twilled silk to be
worn in mourning arc made double,
edged with black footing, and are shirred
a short distance frcrm the ends to give
the effect of tassels.
Embroidery is invading all domains,
end only awnits the spring to bloasom
in full splendor—embroidery in silk or
chenille, mixed with bends, embroidery
entirely of bends, in various colors, or
of one color only.
A narrow knife-plaiting of dark red
satin is around the bottom of the skirt
of nearly all the French dresses, no mat
ter how light or how dark the material
of the dress is; indeed, this gay finish
is seen ns frequently as were white lace
or muslin balaycuscs on dresses last
year.
Dark blue linen and navy blue Scotch
ginghams are made into short dresses
with striped claret-colored borders, or
else the gayest Turkish red calioo with
palm-leaf figures is used for the cuffs,
collars, pockets, borders and for a full
gulmpc, which is finished at the top
with a frill.
Harper'* Bazar says that in Now York
white petticoats are entirely abandoned,
and there are in preparation petticoats
of black foulard or Surah, trimmed with
narrow flounces which are edged with
white lace, or else with lace embrold
ered with tilk or wool in red, rose, blue
or orange.
Diagonal bands crossing the fronttif
the underskirt are a favorite way of ar
ranging beaded embroideries. Pearl
and satin beads are often mixed in these
bands, and the surface is usually quite
covered.
One of the new ways of making over
worn polonaises is to keep the upper
Eart unaltered, and to replace the lower
readths by draperies of brocade stuff,
long enough to hide all of the underskirt
except the flounce.
How They Feed ■ Prima Donna.
This being the age of indiscretions, re
murks the /nrmaw.weurp almost bound
to be indisercet. For the benefit, there
fore, of future eantatrices we will reveal
la Patti's diet. When she wakes in the
morning she drinks a cup of chocolate.
This habit is invariable. On days when
she baa not to sing she eats heavily of
underdone meat. She has, too, a strong
liking for a certain garlic soup, which
has been invented especially for her by
an ingenious cook. On days when she
sings la Patti breakfasts at eleven on
eggs and meat, with Bordeaux wine and
seltzer water. This is the only iflrious
meal she eats until after the perform
anee, when she sups. On hei singing
days la Patti does not dine. After break
fast she retires to her room and sleeps
for a couple of hours. About four o'clock
she dresses, takes a ride, then returns
home and practices at the piano for an
hour. Before going to the theater she
drinks a clear consomme. This hygienic
system is scrupulously observed by la
Patti. We may adil another detail. She
never opens her mouth until she has
tnkon her chocolate; then she tries her
voice by calling Caro, herchambermaid,
with all her might.
A lVovel Ball.
Dr. Sieplian, the chief of the German
postal and telegraph department, gave a
novel ball in Vienna lately. All tncser
vants were dressed in the costume of
postillions. In the course of the festivi
ties a post wagon, fully equipped, with
harness and driver, was driven into the
dnncing saloon. The guests danced
around a telegraph-pole adorned with
many-colored ribhons. Envelopes con
taining bon-bons were distributed
among them from letter-boxes exactly
likethoseupon the Berlin street-corners.
Werner Siemens, the inventor, who is
called the German Edison, provided for
the occasion a novel electrical light
house. The dancers were given keys to
the door of the towers, some of which
had the magic quality of causing the
lamp to send forth a brilliant flntne.
The couples posses.',ing the right keys
waltzed in the glow of the sudden illu
mination. but those who could not make
the tower respond were obliged to retire
from the floor amid the amusement of
the spectators. At one o'clock the pos
tillions' horns gave the signal for supper.
Latent Feminine Mania.
The latest female mania is the collec
tion of advertising cards. The giddy
little things are swooping down upon
the shopkeepers like an army of devour
ing locusts, carrying all things in the
way of advertising cards liofore them.
Someot them, residing out of town, even
j?o so far as to send letters, with stamps
inclosed, asking that the canls be sent
to them. It is curious to see how far
the mania is extending. In some in
stances young women have been known
to go into stores and make purchases of
goods for which they had no need,
merely for the sake of obtaining a pret
tily-colored and printed card. The
candv dealers and confectioners are
reaping quite a harvest by keeping these
cards, which they give purchasers only.
Even " 13-15-14' pales now iwfore the
new craze, and the female mind lias at
last found something to occupy it even
more than dress.— New York Express.
The tzar and the Victim* or the Winter
I'alare Explosion.
In the church of the military hospital,
at St. Petersburg, a requiem mass was
celebrated in memory of tiio soldiers
killed by the recent explosion in the
Winter palace. Side by side stood the
ten plain white coffins. Toward the
close of the requiem the emperor ar
rived. accompanied by the czarewitch
snd the Grand Dukes Vladimir and
Serge. During the singing of the
"Eternal Mrmory " the czar fell on his
knees. Then he summoned to him the
oflh-crs who were on duty in the palace
on the fatal day, thanked them warmly,
for their loyal fulfillment of their duties,
and congratulated them on their nar
row escape. Pointing to the ten coffins,
lie said, in a bitter tone: "This re
minds m? of the Inst campaign." Then
the czar visited the wounded soldiers,
the surviving victims of the explosion
in the palace, and spoke kindly to each
one of them.
On the next day, after mass, the burial
of the ten bodies took place. The burial
procession was honored by the presence
of the Grand Duke Constantine, accom
panied by bis son, Governor-General
Gourfco, Prince Imeretensky, General
Zoumff, and a large number of generals,
officers and soldiers. This is the first
instance on record of the bodies of pri
vate soldiers being carried to the amve
by officers of the highest rank. The first
coffin was borne bv Prince Rouvoroff-
Rimniksky,Count Wrontzoff-Dashkoff,
two generals and two colonels. All the
coffins were decorated with wreaths
sent by the Grand l)ucheas Alexandra
Josephovna. The bodies of the ten sol
diers were buried in one grave, over
which will soon tie erected a monument.
—Parts Goto*.
Leap-Tear Laconics,
This being leap-year, a hoarder at an
up-town amateur hotel thought it line
fun to put a bent pin on each vacant
chair, until one agile feeder leaped up
four feet in the air and came down with
his great unwashed hand in the only
bowl of hash in the house. There was
a famine until supper time. — Wheeling
Sunday Lender.
. ?. ur Burlington girls—ahem I young
ladies —are like " the frog who would
a wooing go." they leap to If this year.
—Burlington (N.J.) Enterprise.
The most dismal feature connected
with leap-year is the revival of old maid
jokes. Tho jokes are older than the
maids.— Quinr.y Modern Argo.
Old maids hold the fort this year,
consequently we are mum concerning
this charming class of people.— Qovmnia
Enterprise.
Baid one of society's smart ornaments
to a lady friend: "This ia leap-year,
and I suppose you will be asking some
one to marry yonP" "Oh, no, waa
the reply, " my finances won't permit
me to support husband."—Oil Oiiy
l/CTTick.
YALCE OF COIFS.
What Peculiar Coin* from ITM to lITS
ara Worth.
We print below the prices paid by
moat of the large dealers in the United
States for the coins mentioned. Private
collectors would in many cases pay
more, as there aro very few complete
collections, the one at the Philadelphia
mint not even being complete:
1793— Half cent, 75 cents; one cent,
$2.
1794.—Ha1f cent, 20 cents; one cent,
10 cents; five cents, $1.25; fifty cents,
dollar, $lO.
1795—Half cent. 5 cents; one cent, 5
cents; five cents, 25 cents; fifty cents, 55
cents; one dollar, $1.25.
1796—IlMlfcent, $5; one cent, 10 cents;
live cents, $1; ten cents, 50 cents; twen
tv-fivc cento, $1; fifty cents, $10; one
1797—Half cent, 5 cents; one cent, 5
cents; live cents, 50 cents; ten cents $1;
fifty cents, $10; one dollar, $1.50.
1798—One cent, 2 cents; ten cents, $1;
one dollar, $1.50.
1790—One cent, $5; one dollar. $1.60.
1800—Half cent, 5 cents; one cent, 3
cents; five cents, 25 cents; ten cents, $1;
one dollar, $l.lO.
1801—One cent, 3 cents; five cents, $1;
ten cents, $1; fifty cents, $2; one dollar,
$1.25.
1802—Half cent, 50 cents; one cent, 2
cents; ten cents, $1; fifty cents, $2; one
dollar, $1 25.
1803—Half cent, 2 cents; one cent, 2
cents; fiv cents, $10; ten cents, $1; one
dollar, $l.lO.
1804—Half cent, 2 cents; onecent,s2;
five cents, 75 cents ; ten cents, $2; twen
ty-live cents. 75 cents; one dollar, $lOO.
1805—Half cent, 2 cents; one cent, 3
cents; live cents, $1.50; ten cents, 25
cents.
1806—Half cent, 2 cents; one cent, 3
cents.
1807—Half cent, 2 cents; one cent, 3
cents; ten cents, 25 cents.
1808—Half cent, 2 cents; one cent, 5
cents.
1809—Half cent, 1 cent; one cent, 25
cents; ten cents, 50 cents.
1810—Half cent, 5 cents; one cent, 5
cents.
1811—Half cent, 25cents; one cent, 10
cents; ten cents, 50 cents.
1812—One cent, 2 cents.
1813—One cent, 5 cents.
1815— Fifty cents, $5.
1821—One cent, 5 cents.
1822—Ten cents. $l.
1823—One ctnt, 5 cents; twenty-five
cents. $lO.
1824—Twenty-five cents, 40 cents.
1825—Half cent, 2 cents.
1826—Half cent, 2 cants; oneecnt, 50
cents.
1827—One cent, 3 cents; twenty-live
cents. $lO.
1828— Half cent, 1 cent; twenty-five
cents, 30 cents.
1829 Half cent, 2 cents.
1830—Half cent, 2 cents.
1832-'3-'4—Half cent, 2 cents.
1835—Half cent, 1 cent.
1836—Fifty cents. $3; one dollar, $3.
1838—Ten cents, 25 cents.
1839—One dollar. $lO.
18-16—Five cents, 50 cents.
1849-'so—Half cent, 5 cents.
1851—Hall cent, 1 cent; twenty-five
cents. 30 cents; one dollar, $10.90.
1852—Twenty-five cents. 30 cents;
fifty cents, $2; one dollar. $lO.
1853—Half cent. 1 cent; twenty cents
(with no arrows), $2.50; one dollar,
$1.25.
1854—Half cent, 2 c<.nts; one dollar,
$9.
1855—'57—Half cents, 5 cents; one dol
lar. $1.50.
IHso—Half cent. 5 cents; one dollar,
$1.50.
1858—One dollar. $lO.
1803-'64-'6s—Three cents. 25 cents.
I*66—Hall cent, 6 cents; three cents,
25 cents; five cents, 10 cents; twenty- j
five cents, 30 cents.
1867—Three cents, 25 cents; five
cents, 10 cents.
1868 'o9—Three rents, 25 cents.
1870—Three cents, 15 cents.
1871—Two cents, 10 cents; three
cents. 25 cents.
1873—Two cents, 50 cents; three
cents. 50 cents.
1877-*7B—Twenty cents, $1.50.
These prices arc for £Ood ordinary 1
coins without holes. line specimens
are worth more.
The Stevens Battery.
Speaking of naval matters, writes a
New York correspondent, I notice the
approaching sale of the Stevens battery,
which is one of the strange features of
this port. The I uilding in which it is
enclosed, with the surrounding prem
ises. covers two a res, and as there is no
probability that it will ever be used its
demolition is now urged. The Stevens
family hns become Famous for its im
mense wealth, which is chiefly due to
the Hoboken property and the ferry,
both of which have become immensely
valuable. Old John Stevens was a re
markable inventor. # He not only built
a steamboat almost contemporary with
Fulton's first effort, but he was our rail
way p'oneer. In 1896 he built a small
railroad on his grounds and operated a
locomotive which made six miles an
hour. It was a great curiosity, espe
cially when he gnve his opinion that a
railroad would soon he built from New
York to Buffalo. He lived to see bis
locomotive in successful operation. His
son, Robert L. Stevens, died in 1856,
aged sixty-eight. He was a remarkable
inventor, at least in navigation, and
among his other creations was the above
mentioned iron battery. He began the
work in 1846. bis plan being to con
struct a vessel which shoulcf be proof
agninst the heaviest shot. This work
he continued til) his death, but when
the rebellion began it was not accepted
by the department, and the improve
ments of the age have rendered it really
worthless. Hence the mighty vessel in
which a quarter million has been ex
pended will be taken to pieces and its
material sold for old iron; a sad instance
of a work of genius becoming not enly
utterly useless, but also an incumbrance,
and whose removal will be an item of
heavy expense. The dimensions of this
enormous vessel are as follows: length
415 feet, breadtli 48 feet, depth 32 feet.
She has ten boilers, eight driving engines
and nine subordinate engines. Site
is built entirely of iron, with sharp bow
and stern, and her measurement as com
pared witli merchant vessels is 5,500
tons. Such is the monster which is to
be torn to pieces—a task almost as great
as Its construction.
Street garments are of two kinds.
They are ither very long or vary short.
The stylish raglan reaches to the heels.
The 0 hu cape scarcely covers the
should rs. Between these is the jacket,
very plain but well cut into the figure
and with a strait Jersey skirt.
TWDTY-FIYE TEARS OF HIMKE,
T** f"*"" MmOm fey BwU mtmem lh
Present ( tar's Arrssslna to tfe Throns
—A InUrtatlni Nunimwr.
Referring to the recent twenty-fifth
anniversary of the Czar Alexander's ac
cession to the throne of Russia, a New
York paper says:
The opening of the reign which has
just completed its twenty-fifth year was
the gloomiest period of Russian liistory;
but it was also the most profitable.
" We owe gratitude," says the Moscow
Gazette , "even to England herself, for
her blows shattered the pernicious sys
tem that was destroying us, opened our
eyes to the real state f our internal
strength, and cleared the for all the
reforms now in progress." This is no
exaggeration. Russia has made more
real-progress since the accession of Alex
ander If. than during the whole preced
ing century. In 1855 she had only 419
miles of railway; she has now upward
ofIO.OOO. In 18550n1y three cities in the
whole empire—viz., St. Petersburg,
Moscow and Odessa— were even toler
ably paved or lighted; whereas, now
every leading provincial town is well off
in both respects, and the new St. Peters
burg gas company is one of the most
flourishing in the empire. In 1855 the
total number of factories in European
Russia was 17,536, representing a vearly
value of 350,000,000 rubles, ($262,500,-
000.) By 1867—the half-way point of
the present reign—23,72l factories were
at work, with an annual yield 0f500,000,-
000 rubles, and both figures are now con
siderably higher. The iniquities of the
legal system of that dav, carried on ac
cording to the obsolete forms of inedia?-
val law, were almost too monstrous for
belief; whereas, now trial by jury, in
troduced in 1803, is a national institu
tion. The Russian soldier's term of
service then extended over twenty-five
years, whereas it is now limited to
seven. Various cruel and degrading
punishments, than in constant use in the
imperial army, are now almost abol
ished, only one man having "run the
f nutlet" in St. Petersburg since 1861.
he 23,000,000 peasants who were slaves
n 1855 are now freemen, and not a few
of them have become land-owners or
thriving merchants. Even in actual
territory, Russia has gained consider
able. In Europe she has acquired
Southern Bessarabia. In Asia Minor
she has annexed part of Northern Ar
menia. In Central Asia she has won a
territory as large as France, while her
Siberian frontier has been advanced
nearly a 1,000 miles at the expense of
China, and the important island of Sag
halin, extorted from Japan.
But, apart from all this, Russia has
achieved a step which will go far to
supply her greatest want. She has
formed, not indeed a substantial middle
class, but tlrnt which will be the germ
of such a class, and which is expanding
every yenr. This is the one thing lack
ing to insure the stability of the empire.
01 the 55,000,000 inhabitants contained
by Russia proper in 1861.20.000,000 were
free peasants and 23,000.000 serfs, leav
ing only 1,000.000 nobles, 4.000.000 bur
gesses, and 650,000 priests to form the
eountcrlalancing minority. The eman
cipation of that year, by destroying the
power of tlie nobnity, while that of the
people was still non-existent, placed
Russia in the position of a state with its
upper class gone, its lower class not yet
come and no middle class at all. The
same sluggish ignorance which makes
the Russian "rntgik" proof against the
whispers of disaffection, renders him
absolutely useless to the political life of
his country. What is wanted is a rea
soning. not a reasonless, obedience.
Russia's safety lies in the creation of a
class of practical and well-to-do men of
business, for whom order implies pros
perity, and disorder alieolute ruin. The
existence of such a class in France made
Hie commotion of 1830 short and com
paratively bloodless, rindered alortive
the attempted outbreak of 1n32, and
tided over the great political crisis o
1878-9 without any outbreak at all; and
thercmcdy which has succeeded in Paris
may be trusted not to failin St. Peters
burg.
How to Make an Aadtfsa.
A correspondent of a New York pa
per write*; I have experimented con
siderably to ascertain the cheapest as
well as the best method of hearing
through the teeth- lam partially deaf
myself and naturally sympathetic with
those so afflicted, especially with those
who are unable to purchase the liigh
priced audiphoncs.
For the small cost of ten cents what I
call an audifan can be made which will
give as good satisfaction as any audi
phone yet invented.
I take a common Jnpanese fan, one
with reed handle and braces entire, cut
off nhout hall an inch from the top edge,
adjust thereto a small strip of tin bind
ing, four or five indies in length and a
uuarter of an inch in width when
doubled, and clinch the same for mouth
piece, I then give the whole fan one
coat of shellac and lampblack, using
enough black to overcome in part the
gloss of the shellac. If one end of a
small strip of curved spring brass wire
be inserted just over the string that
gives tension to the curved wooden
brace, so as to rest against it, and the
other end is clinched between the edges
of the metal binding, the fan will as
sume the proper position and bo always
ready for use. The fan should be painted
and allowed to dry thoroughly before
the curved brace is adjusted. The fan
can be used without the brace. If the
brace is used a strip of narrow silk
should be pasted down the center of the
fan to protect the paper. Persons who
have tried the high-priced audiphonea
and dentnphonrs have thrown them
aside for my simple contrivance.
Mother.
There is one being in this world who
can afford comfort in the heaviest sor
row and soften the most rigorous time
of our life. We call this being mother.
God gave her to us to sweeten with her
kisses of love the bitter cup that is often
pressed to our Hps. He sent her to our
eradle with the wings of affection to
hida from our view the dark future into
which we are to be hurried to contend
with death. lie appointed her to fold
our bands in the first prayer, and made
tier smile the dawn of the Infinitude of
our hopes. To us she is the incarnation
of goodness, virtue and mercy, and in
the hour of temptation we may hear
her tender voice pleading to our soul.
Whenever we feel a generous emotion,
the desire to dry a human tear, to help
the unfortunate, to break our bread
with the hnngry and to perform any
noble act for our fellow-being*, we are
often unconsciously impelled by the
subtle power of the mother's influence,
for it is she who fashions our character
and stamps upon it impressions that rs
raaln forever.
Wbtt She Had La*.
Somo funny incidents occur on the
night cars on the Bellefontaine railway
and not the leant droll among these re
cently was what followed the advent oa
the ten minutes to two car of a vigor
ous ladv who, with her husband, had
evidently been making a late visit at
the house of some friend. She wes a
stalwart, aggressive female, in rather
striking personal contrast to her milk
and-watery looking husband, and as
soon as she had taken her seat she
thrust her head forward and began a
careful scrutiny of the face of a lady on
the opposite side of the car. She evi
dently knew or thought she knew the
name of the person she was staring at.
Finally, unable to restrain herself any
longer, she asked:
"Ain't you Mary Slawson, that wasP'
The lady addressed replied that she
formerly bore the name given, though
she had been married since.
" And don't you remember me? We
used to live close by you, you know?"
"Oh, yes; I remember you well."
"Ah, I thought you would. Well,
I've lost my daughter Sarah since I
knew you."
" Indeed, I'm sorry to hear that.' -
"Yes; and John you remember
John, well—he's lost a leg."
"That's very bad. I'm sure."
" Yes; had it cut off by the cars; and
my daughter Jane, she'a lost her hus
band."
"That is too bad."
" Yes; and Henry—you remember my
son Henry—he's lost liis place."
"That is unfortunate,certainly."
"Oh, it's real mean; and I've lostul
moßt all my teeth."
" I hadn't noticed it, I'm surel've.'j
"That's because I've got new ones,
but I've lost 'em just the same; and my
husband, he's lost most of his hair."
The lady on the other side of the car
had exhausted her stock of sympathetic
expressions, and said nothing. The
lady who had lost so much in one way
or another, leaned back in her place,
beaming with satisfaction and Beif-suf
ficiency. She had evidently a profound
contempt for such people as talk only
about the weather when they meet a
friend.— ®. I/mix Republican.
An Eccentric Character;
George Albree, who died a short time
in Pittsburg. Pa., in his seventy
eighth year, was apeouli&r character as
well as a local celebrity. Although he
had been a merchant and had made- an
ample fortune, lie had many crochets
ana various private pursuits which he
was fond of discussing. He took a
deep interest in meteorology, having
kept a record of the weather for nearly
half a century. He w- s often called the
weather clerk, and he believed that
no American living was so intimately
acquainted as !< with the subject, on
which he wa l - -ilwsys voluble. The •
signal service bureau report never
pleased him. He always declared that
the men who made it did not under
stand their business, and that they were
continually blundering in their predic
tions. He had long been a weatner
firophet, and a number of lucky guesses
ind so fillea him with self-confidence
and egotism that he was impatient of
any opposition. One of his favorite
speeches was " What I don't know
about weather isn't worth knowing."
Born in the ancient town of Salem,
Mass., be ran away to sea when he was
only ten, and served on board a pri
vatecrsman during the war of 1812. He
took part in a number of minor en
gagements; witnessed the fight between
the Boxer and Enterprise off the coast
of Maine, and. having been wounded,
drew a pension from the private navy
fund. lie was, it is said, tb last pri
vate* r_ pensioner, having spnrived all
his fellows. Theology was one of his
specialties, and he hat! written and pub
lished at his own expense several works
th< rcon. He did not belong to any
ect, havng so many opinions and be
liefs of his own. Nearly everybody
knew him in Pittsburg and liked him,
for his eccentricity did ot prevent him
from being interesting
The Hero a Hull-Fighter is la Spain.
Speaking of the fete held in Paris for
the relief of the Murcia sufferers, a cor
respondent of the London Truth writes:
Of all the innumerable lions at the
Hippodrome, the espadas, or profes
sional bull-fighters, were the most lion
ized. In Spain their yearly earnings
range from $20,000 to $30,000 a year,
and no prima donna receives hand
somer present* from male enthusiasts
and female admirers. If it were cus
tomary for them to go in their bare feet,
they would, I dare say, wear diamonds
in their toes as well as on their fingers,
which are covered with these sparkling
Spins. They have double buttons of
iamonds, large as marrowfat peas, to
button their shirt-collars, and rows of
smaller ones fastening their embroidered
linen breast-front*. In the rosettes oi
their shoes are stones of t he finest water.
Spanish ladies of ran* arc not ashamed
to write love letters to espadas. The
espada is a dandy without being a fop.
If he chooses, he can pass his evenings
in the tximpany of grandees. If he is
ill. the king sends daily to inquire after
the state of his health, and he must be
a careless dog if he is not able to retire
in the prime of life from the arena on a
good fortune.
He Found ■ Bowery Hoy.
It is related of Thackeray that, being
very desirous to see a " Bowery boy." a
New York rough of twenty years ago,
he went with a friend into the haunts
of that peculiar creature to look for one.
Very soon his companion pointed out to
him a genuine specimen, standing on
the comer of a street against a lamp
post, red-shirted. black-trousered, soap
locked, shiny-hatted. with a cigar in his
mouth elevated at an angle of forty-five
decrees.
After contemplating him for a few
moments, Thackeray said to his friend
that he would like to talk to the fellow,
and asked if he might do so.
" Surely." he was told; "go to him
and ask him to direct you somewhere."
Thereupon Thackeray approached,
and said.politely:
! v "My mend, I should like to go to —"
such a place.
"Well"replied the Bowery boy, in
his peculiar tone*, and without moving
anything but his lips, as be looked up
lastly at tlie tall, gray-haired novelist—
" well, sonny, you can go. If you won't
stay too long."
Thackeray was satisfied.
A fellow stopped at a hotel at Lead
/illc and the landlord charged him seven
dollars a day fcr flvs days. "Didn't
you make a mistake?" "No," Mid the
landlord. " Yek, you did; you thought
you got all the money I had, but you
aw mistaken I have a whole purse IW.
in another pocket."