gSHEn
voj
10
of yon as yon are to be free from me.
Hurry up.
Victor laughed in his soft way as he crept
down into the little cabin to obey orders.
Orton buttoned his rough jacket close
and drew his broad-brimmed hat low over
his eyes in anticipation of a row against the
wind, which was beginning to freshen from
the northwest. Indeed it was a finely in
vigorating experience, that breasting ot the
sweet, sharp breath from the resinous woods
and wide salt marshes of the "Wolf river and
Jordan river countries.
The skiff into which Orton and Victor
had bestowed themselves with the young
man's baggage and sketching outfit was a
slight affair, and the Creole's lusty oar
strokes set it fairly boundinc over the
sparkling water. The course led them
through a long curve around Magnolia
3? oint, giving broken glimpses of the Bochon
house, with its dull drab walls and peaked
roof withdrawn in a soft crepuscular gloom
which was shot through here and there by
fine lines of glowing sunlight.
A person looking from the shore must
have felt the effect of the animated bit of
life and color afforded by the skiff and its
crew. Victor's red shirt and Orton's blue
jacket shone gaily, and the artist's yellow
curls contrasted effectively with the black
unkempt locks of the Creole. Then what a
background; all the wide bay rolling free
before the breeze and the dark, troubled
masses of the woods on the other shore, had
caught tbe full midmorning glow and shim
mer. Southward albng the horizon line
some tall ships under full sail were bowling
on their way, and flights of pelicans, ducks
and geese made the high air palpitant with
their wings.
Some one on shore did see the skiff, and
did watcL it with curious eyes. Gaspard
Bochon stood at tbe extreme point of the
little headland near his house, and with his
sturdy legs wide apart, his heavy band
shading his strong dark face, and his cap
set well back on his grizzled head, gazed at
tentively. "Voila! yonder! see!" exclaimed Victor
eagerly, "Mo'sieu Bochon standing on the
high place; you see him?"
Yes, Orton saw with a thrill in acknowl
edgement of the figure's bold outlines and
picturesque attitude. Be took up a small
field glass, and, justifying it, surveyed with
increasing interest thai burly and hirsute
lord of tbe land whose dreadful deeds and
dark ways Victor has been so fond of des
scribing. "Xbu look at him mighty well now,"
said the Creole jn his glib patois, "for he's
worth looking at, is Mo'sieu Bochon. I
jll vnn tliHt vnn mitrht s well fcpen fihv ot
U him and the Ma'm'zelle, certainly, if yon
14 dnn'tlike trnnble. Bad as a shark, he is.
and the Ma'm'zelle, he "
Just then Orton showed signs of having
discovered something new. The Creole
rested a moment on his oars and gazed. A
second figure had come forth from the
magnolia grove and was approaching the
spot where stood Bochon. It was a tall girl,
probably 16, simply clad in a gown of gray
stuff with a flutter of dark red ribbons here
'and there; she was supple and graceful
evidently, and Orton sa through his glass
that her face, shaded by a wide palmetto
hbt, was charmingly sweet in its expression.
There was little time for this exchange of
inspection, as tbe tide was nearly to the
turn, and Victor, resuming the oars, pulled
vigorously, soon sending the skiff past the
point and on to the mouth of the bayou.
"What did I say?" he exclaimed as he
rowed, "I told you how that man looked
like a great savage bear, and how the
Ma'm'zelle she looked like a lily. Did you
see? Mo Dieu, but whata scowl on his
ugly old face! and she; did yon see how
pretty she is''"
To this and much more Orton made no
response. The spell of the place was upon
him. This was his first experience in the
South; his home was in the far 2Corth, where
life had nothing in it to prepare one for
what one met in this strange out-of-the-way
nook of tbe sub-tropic, and besides, Orton
had been made peculiarly impressible by
tbe unusual and vividly romantic stories of
Victor.
Xow, as the house and the grove and the
. two figures on Magnolia Point passed from
.his vision into memory, a sense of immense
distance from the real world took possession
of him. It was as though he had found a
little region, detached irom earth, set in a
space of its own and filled with the atmos
phere and the colors of dreams, a very para
dise for the artist who longs for what is not
commonplace. He felt that very soon some
adventures and experiences must make a
memorable impress upon him and probably
affect the whole current cf his life. He was
ready for this, even eager, for he was at
that age and of the temperament which de
mands a fair share of the melodramatic and
the strongly colored. He would not have
objected to a little of the tragic and the ter
rible as a condiment, for there was a fight
ing strain in his blood just strong enough
to make him venturesome and courageous
to a degree.
A mile or two up the bayou they came to a
rude wharf of timber, near which a fishing
smack was moored to a stake, driven into
the marsh mud. Back a few paces on the
other shore in tbe midst of scuppernong
vines and orange trees, now beginning to
bloom, stood a low, rambling honse of many
rooms, built partly of logs and partly of
rough boards, and surrounded by a gallery
or rude colonnade, over which clambered a
Cherokee rose vine thickly covered with its
snowy flowers. Behind the structure stood
a huge live-oak tree, whose arms, SO feet
long, spread out a heavy mass of moss-festooned
sprays, completely overshadowing
the irregular roof.
Here Orton was to have his home for a
time, having set out from New Orleans with
this purpose in view. Victor, whose little
schooner he had chartered, describes the
k. place to mm ingiowing colors as an ideal
that an artist and a sportsman, could desire
to follow.
A thin, swarthy man, with a high eagle
nose and deep-set black eves, met them on
the wharf. Victor made him known to Or
ton as M'sieu Edouard Garcin, the proprie
tor of the place, whereupon he gave the ar
tist most profuse welcome and Fed the way
into the house, while two or three negroes
busied themselves with Orton's baggage and
sketching materials, bringing them to the gal
lery, and, depositing them in a heap on the
floor, where lounged four or five deer
bounds. "Come een, come een, mek oose'f at
ome," said the host trying hard to speak
very good English. "Glad I see oo, Mistoo
Orton; ver' proud of oo kindness ven oo
.come at my 'ouse dees time."
The room was ample, with low celling, a
wide fireplace and small windows. The
furniture was, to Orton's surprise, of heavy
carved mahogany, table, chairs, clock and
-bedstead, costly and beautiful. In one cor
ner lay a curious old guitar.
CHAPTER II.
LALIE GABOnr.
Victor, who was in a great hurry to re
turn, scarcely allowed himself time for a
g)ass of wine with Garcin before setting
out, but, so rapidly did he speak, he suc
ceeded in giving a most glowing and appar
ently satisfactory account of Orton whom
he described as a great gentleman from New
York who had become famous all over the
world as an artist and whose skill with the
riflo and the .fowling-piece was something
prodigious.
''He wants to shoot and fish and make
pictures of everything in your country,
Mo'sieu Garcin," he glibly went on, with
, many winks, shrugs and gestures of hands
and elbows, "certainly he does, and he has
come all the way from his grand home in
" the great city on purpose to stay in your
humble house awhile, Mo'sieu Garcin, and
enjoy your company, certainly so."
Edouard Garcin bowed and smiled, first
toward Orton and then toward Victor, and
his fine black eyes expressed satisfaction
and hospitable intent more readily than did
his tongue, since he persisted in trying to
y speak English.
"It mek me joyous 'at ee come so soon to
veesit a. long wile dis time," he remarked,
finding his words with great diffeulty.
When Orton, to relieve him, spoke in
. - very good French, there was an expression
'-Evidently he would have preferred to have
THT
"'TOPWf
the conversation in English, whether he de
sired to leirn the tongue, or whether he
dreaded to have a French speaking alien in
his house, would have been hard to guess.
With that politeness which never deserts a
man of his class, however, he accepted Or
ton's choice and spoke the language of the
place.
"This is your room, Monsieur, your house,
it belongs to yon as long as vou will stay,"
he said with that soft cordiality and perfect
sincerity of voice and manner impossible to
imitate or describe, "Whatever you want
call for it, everything is yours."
Orton thanked him as best he could; but
it was hard to get a word ready before the
adroit Garcin would pour out another and
another flood ot flattering welcome.
Victor snatched a glass of wine then after
a short, hurried consultation aside with the
host, bade Orton au revoir, promising, ac
cording to contract, to bring the Zozo around
again at the end of a month so that if he
should wish by that time to leave Bay St
Louis he could do it.
"Bemember, Victor." said Orton, shak
ing his sailor's little dark hand, "not later
than the 10th of April; I shall expect you
to be prompt. I couldn't think of embark
ing in any other craft than the schooner
Zozo."
The face of Victor lighted up under this
compliment to his little vessel, which was
in lact the fastest on the coast, and he al
most embraced the artist while he said:
"Certainly; exactly on that day I will
come, if the wind is fair, certainly, Mo'sieu,
the Zozo she brought you here, she will take
you away, certainly.
"And. by the way, 1 was about to forget
my letter," exclaimed Orton, taking from
his pocket a sealed paper package upon
which, besides the address, he had drawn
his monogram in a fanciful India ink
sketch. "Here, don't fail to send this by
the first vessel. It is very, very important,
Victor. Will you forget it?"
"Mo dieu, how can I forget it, Mo'sieu?
I shall think of it all the time," and he
fairly snatched it from Orton's hand. It
was addressed to General Horace Orton,
New York City.
Victor could not refrain from sending an
eager glance over the bold superscription,
nor did his eyes fail to rest for a moment on
the puzzling monogram before he bestowed
the package safely in his pocket. Then he
gave Garcin a quick knowing look, as if to
say: "There what did I tell youl This is
proof of my words.
Orton did not notice this scarcely per
ceptible expression of unusual interest, nor
did it strike him as meaning anything
when Garcin excused himself and followed
Victor down to the wharf on the bavou.
"It is just as I said," remarked Victor in
a whisper as he and the host went down the
sandy path under the vines. "He is come to
get Mo'sieu Bochon. He is a secret officer,
lam sure of it, and he has no fear. Tbe
Government, Mo'sieu Garcin, the Govern
ment has sent him."
"But mon Dieu, how do you .know? in
quired Garcin eagerly.
"I was knowing it all the time, but
now," and her Victor, tapped on his pocket
to indicate the letter, "now it is certainly
so.
"The letter?" whispered Garcin.
"Yes, the letter," responded Victor.
The men halted at the. edge of the dock
and looked at each other quizzically.
"He writes to General Orton, at New
York, do you understand, Mo'sieu Garcin?
General Orton!" exclaimed Victor, lifting
up his shoulders and spreading his hands
out before him with great energy. The em
phasis placed on the word general was
tragic in the extreme.
Garcin was vivaciously silent and thought
ful for a few moments, then, with sudden
earnestness he inquired:
"But how do vou know thai; that it is
only old Bochon that he is after?"
Victor smiled a queer little smile, and
shook his head knowingly. "Don't be
afeard, Mo'sieu Garcin, certainly he has not
come for you," he said with a patronizing
intonation in his whisper, "I told him about
you, and he thinks you a great gentleman.
Certainly he'll not suspect you, Mo'sieu
Garcin, never."
They went down the rough steps of the
whart and Victor entered the skiff.
Garcin leaned over the gunwale and said:
"But if he finds out if he finds out?"
"Bahl don't be. a calf, Mo'sieu Garcin,
he is a gentleman and he is in your house.
Certainlv you must treat him well and have
him to like you. Don't you see? You're
safe enough. It's the old man that he's
after."
Victor furtively slipped forth the letter so
that Garcin could see the monogram and
superscription. Both men sighed with the
suppressed excitement of the occasion as
their vivid imaginations illuminated, with
a light that never was on sea or land, the
purport of that mysterious package, so
grand and official looking and addressed to
a general in New YorK Garcin puffed out
his swarthy cheeks and Victor smiled his
gentle Creole smile. He replaced the letter
and made ready to row away down the
bayou.
"Goodby, Mo'sieu Garcin," he said, "I
hope you will have a pleasant time with
Mo'sieu Orton. Goodby."
"But you will return in just a month,
eh?" Garcin called after him as the skiff
was gliding swiftly from the shore. "I
must expect you, then?"
"Certainly, certainly," came back the
musical answer. Surely Victor had a very
sweet voice, almost as sweet as that of the
mocking bird singing yonder on the live
oak.
Garcin stood awhile gazing after the now
fairly galloping skiff, then with his hands
in his pockets he turned about and went
back into the house.
The wind had come to be a trifle sham
and chilly, as it always does when it blows
from the Northwest. A neero started a fire
on the hearth in Orton's" room, a fire of
round wood with splinters of fat pine be
tween, which flung forth a cheerful light,
making the dark furniture gleam and caus
ing the curious old pictures on the walls to
look still more stiff and dusky.
The artist examined his surroundings
"u K"ai interest, xi was aimcnit to
reconcile the costly moveables with the rude
structure in which they appeared so out of
place and with the extreme isolation of the
region Through a partly opened door he
could see that an adjoining room was fur
nished even more Strikingly and expen
sively then his own. Some heavily bro
caded curtains, a high-backed richly cush
ioned, chair and a three-legged spinet were
in the line of his. vision. He noted that the
spinet's feet were exquisitely carved to rep
resent serpent heads, mouth open and
fangs extended, and that the keys were of
ivory and ebony curiously inlaid. Over a
corner of the instrument hung an India
shawl of rich design, and upon this lay a
jaunty hat of some fine straw trimmed with
scarlet velvet ribbons. These things, set in
such a rough entourage, appealed with
great force to the artist's taste for the un
common and the picturesque. That a ram
bling cabin of the coarsest architec
ture, the room of which wore
scarcely better than those of a Western
frontier dwelling, should be filled with ar
ticles that a lord might prire was enough to
start all sorts of suggestions in a mind natur
ally ready to be led toward romance.
Through a little window he had a view of
the bayou and the broad, grassy marsh
meadow beyond. Looking that way he savf
Victor rowing hard, leaving a long silver
wake behind the skiff and tossing bright
sprays with the feathering of his oars. Soon
man and skiff were lost to sight and in
spite of himself Orton felt a little thrill of
loneliness as he realized that for a month
at least he must be shut up in this wild,
queer little region utterly out of the world
P9d given over, it appeared to him, to the
whims of a very strange people.
When Garcin re-entered presently, light
footed and smiling, Orton turned from the
window to meet him.
"It ees beegin to blow varee cole, Mistoo
Orton," the host began saying, then, recoj
lecting himself, continued inFrenchr "We
shall have a -cold night; it may hurt tbe
fruit. I think you will -find the lira com
fortable. Bray sit down, sir."
He offered Orton a chair and took one
himself, waiting, however, for his gnest to
be seated first. His manner was grace
itself, and, although his voice was not so
mellifluous as Victor's, he spoke French
with a charming Creole accent Orton soon
learned that he was a native, of Martinique,
i
- - .
wW&QK&samM
- , "I&ftZ?
THE
whence he had come many years before to
settle here in the blooming wilderness -of
the Gulf coast country. He had found it a
most delightful place to live, he said, heie
on the quiet bayou where he could have his
cattle in the broad marsh meadows and his
sugar cane fields beyond. There Avas excel
lent shooting near at hand and the fishing
was glorious in all the waters. He exam
ined Orton's guns a rifle and a fowling
piece and found them very fine; then he
fetched his own and exhibited them; they
were still finer, but of much older pattern.
One of them, a short, heavy, smooth-bored
piece for shot or ball, had a stock of some
rich,satin-like wood upon which was carved
the same snake design noticed by Orton on
the feet of the spinet in the adjoining room,
and its lock was a masterpiece of engraving
and modeling.
While they were looking at these weap
ons, along with some pistols, pouches and a
pair ol rapiers, Orton became aware that a
thitd person had entered the room. He
heard therustle-ofadress and the sound of a
light foot-fall on the floor. Looking up his
eyes met those of a petite, plump girl whose
oval face was very dark and whose lips were
as red'as cherries.
"My friend, Monsieur Orton my daugh
ter Lalie," said Garcin as Orton rose.
The girl dropped a quaint courtesy and
came forward to take thevoungman s hand,
a faint blush showing under the dusk of
her beautiful skin. She was not more than
15. but she appeared quite developed, one of
those quick, warm growths of the South,
soon to flower, soon to fade.
"The gentleman is a very great artist,
Lalie, and he has come to live with us
awhile. Maybe vhe will make a picture
of our house; our chateau," said Garcin
gaily.
"They say a ruin does welljn a picture,"
she responded, "but I should think that the
Bochon place would be a better subject.
That is a very beautiful place."
"Yes. I saw it from the bay," said Orton,
"it must indeed be interesting. By the
way, I saw the master of the place, too,
and the young lady, what is her name?"
"Felicie Bochon, is her name," said the
girl quickly, "and she is very, very beau
tiful." "Is she? I thought so, too, but she was
so far away that I could not make out her
features very well. What a pretty name it
is, Felicie Bochon, don't you. think so?"
He spoke to her as he would have done to a
child. "Are you acquainted with her?" he
added.
She blushed as she answered iu the nega
tive, though she spoke without confusion.
"We are not friends, though not enemies,
Monsieur Bochon and I; said Garcin rather
gravely. "We have never been ovei-so-ciable,
nor have we ever quareled. You
see how it is."
Of course, Orton did not see how it was;
but much as he would, have liked to
know more he felt that it was out of the
question to make any further inquiries for
the present The name of Felicie Bochon
was running through his mind like some
haunting strain of music, and the vision of
the two striking figures standing forth on
tbe breezy bluff at Magnolia Point was still
firmly set in his memory. It was a picture
whose impression grew "deeper all the time
and whose colors increased in richness and
purity.
"Mo'sieu Gaspard Bochon is looked upon
with a little suspicion, just a little suspi
cion, by some people, but I don't know
about" it," said Garcin, moving rather
nervously. "Some say he ought to be taken
in hand by the Government, but I don't
know, to be sure. I could not testify against
him in the least"
Nothing could have sharpened Orton's
interest more than this indirect tattle con
cerning Bochon, for it confirmed, in a way,
the romantio stories told by Victor, and
bung about the figures most in his mind a
thicker veil of mystery.
"I came in to tell you that luncheon is
ready for you," said the girl, going close to
her lather and laying a plump hand on his
thin muscular shoulder. Now, for the first
time, Orton noticed how the dark blood of
Martinique had set an unmistakable seal on
all her features. She looked up at him
quickly, and, as if she had read his
thoughts appeared to shrink a little, the
smile slipping from her lips, leaving them
pouting and serious, while her eyes quivered
and fell quickjy. A moment later she went
and drew back a heavy, somewhat faded
curtain, showing the way to a spacious din
ing room in the log part of the house.
Madame Garcin, a heavy, commonplace
woman of almost African complexion,
greeted them with profuse politeness. She
spoke very rapidly, and with a marked ac
cent and a broadening of all the vowel
sounds.
Orton glanced around to see the walls of
round pine logs hung with antlers and
other trophies, of the chase, guns, pistols,
swords, knives, the wings and tails of
bright-feathered birds and a few unim
portant pictures, mostly shooting scenes.
Small art had been shorn in the arrange
ment ot these curious ornaments, but the
effect was replete with a half barbaric sim
plicity and strength. The two narrow
windows of the room were hung with cur
tains of dressed buckskin upon whose rich
yellow ground had been wrought simple but
pleasing designs in embossed needlework of
blue silk. Above each was a tealskin with
wings and neck outspread. There
were strong dashes of red, orange
and green, here and there, from
the feathers of paroquets, jays, gros
beaks and flamingoes massed in odd places.
The ceiling was the roof itself made of
heavy boards of heartpine, rich with resin.
A very simple luncheon was spread upon
an oval table in the center of the room.
Hard, sweet biscuits, thinly sliced dried
venison, preserved fruit, coffee and wine were
served in a leisurely way by a negro girl,
whose head was bound with a snowy cotton
cloth.
During the course of the repast, Orton,
whose mind would wander back to dwell
upon one subject, inquired about the dis
tance to Bochon place, and was surprised
not a little when, in the conversation which
followed, Madame Garcin said:
"Mo'sieu Bochon is a very fine gentle
man: he is a. preat friend of ours."
The host coughed a little, fidgeted in his
chair and remarked:
"Ah, well, not a great friend, Madame,
not a near friend, certainly. Only just a
neighbor of whom' we must speak well, you
know, out of due politeness."
"Mo' dieu! precisely so," exclaimed the
vivacious hostess, glancing half-inquiringly
from her husband to her daughter nnd
finally at Orton. She poised her stout figure
with an effort at reserve and added:
"Mo'sieu Orton will not misunderstand."
In truth the young man could neither un
derstand nor misunderstand; the whole mat
ter was a mystery to him. For lack, of a
better way out of the awkward situation, he
simply said:
"I should very mujh like to visit the
Bochon place."
Swift glances and furtive signs were ex
changed by tbe Garcins, but this escaped
Orton's observation, so busy was he with in
ward vision. It brought "out a common
smile when all three of them said at, once:
"The young lady is extremely beautiful."
Madame Garcin even'laughed aloud in a
subdued way.
"It must be so," remarked Orton, "when
everybody declares it"
"Ob, but she is perfectly lovely," ex
claimed Lalie, "I never have seen anyone
else who was half so beautiful. When you
once have your eyes on her, Mo'sieu, you
will say this yourself, certainly."
"Doubtless," said Orton'and before long
that is just where I hope to have my eves.
I shall feel honored, indeed, if I can 'but
see, from a little closer point of view, this
lovely Lily of Bochon."
"Oh, that is charming," cried Lalie,
"that name for her. You are clever,
Mo'sieu Orton, to think of it It suits her
precisely. The Lily of Bochon, J like it."
The smiles and surreptitious signals went
around again; this time Orton was indirect
ly aware them.
"Miss Bochon is known by the flowry
title, is she not?" he inquired quickly,
looking from one to the other; "Captain
Victor said so, and it pleased me to accept
his nomenclature along with his very ro
mantic stories."
"Certainly, Mo'sieu Vlctoi told you
c aiij vi uyuuuu ia hum me sau
,ors all call her," said Madame Garcin with
her inimitable readiness and. swiftness.
"V SSS&' '
PITTSBURG-
DISPATCH?
"Probably Lalie did not know that; Lalie
is very young, yott see."
"I am past 15 now," 'the girl affirmed,
pouting prettily and glancing shyly at Or
ton, "and certainly that isn't a baby's age.
Do you think it is, Mo'sieu Orton?"
"Lalie I"
"Lalie I"
In one breath both father and mother
chided the girl, while at the same time
they were laughing admiringly and look
ing with wide-open eyes from each other to
Orton.
Olives and little dry salt fish, with claret,
were served just then by the demure
waiter.
"For my part." said Lalie persistently,
"I am quite tired of being sucha veiy little
bit of a girl. Beally I Bhould like to be
called Ma'm'zelle Garcin, with a low bow
and a very deferential air."
. "Lalie!" '
"Lalie !"
Orton laughedand the host and hostess
looked contentedly surprised at their daugh
ter's show ot boldness and spirit.
"She is quite spoiled, is Lalie," observed
Madame Garcin, presently as she
gave the signal for rising: "She has been
our only one and has not seen much of life.
The birds in the woods know as much as she.
Certainly she is a little wild and untaught,
but she is a good child'
"She speak Englees mo' fas' fan me,"
added Garcin in an undertone, "but she
shame, she scare w'en she speak eet cer
tainly. I don 'no w'at at she scare w'en
she speak zat Engless. Now, myse'f, it
scare not me w'en I speak zat Englees so
veil. Eeet ees not any shame to speak
eet."
They passed into the, room where the
spinet was, and Lalie after a while sang
some light songs, playing quite cleverly.
Her voice was not strong, but it had the
touch of wildness which Orton liked, a bird
like sweetness with a quality of its own,
rare and engaging.
The wind continued to blow from the
north during the rest ot the day, so that
Orton found it very agreeable to remain in
doors, now chatting with Lalie, now smok
ing with Garcin, anon reading in an old
French romance that he found on the man
tel in his room.
At night the wind fell. A calm of two
hours was followed by a balmy breath from
the Gulf. Soon it was warm again. Dinner
came at 7, tbe table bearing a load of viands
charmingly served. The house was'lighted
with myrtle-wax candles, whose faintly fra
grant smoke touched the air with a delicate
film of dreamy individuality,' so to call it,
at qnce gratifying and unique.
By the time that Orton sought his bed the
moon had come up and the air was 'full of
tender warmth. That night while the
mocking birds sang as if under their breath,
and while Lalie slept just beyond the wall
from him he -dreamed of the Idly, of
Bochon.
Continued Next Sunday.
Copyright, 18S9, by Maurice Thompson.
TOMATOES A LUXURY.
Their Adoption Into General Use In England
of Recent Date.
From the London Tattler.
American readers, accustomed to see
tomatoes in some shape on the table nearly
every day of the year, will scarcely ap
preciate how nearly that familiar vegetable
comes to ' being a rare delicacy in En
gland. Ten years ago it was an ex
ception to find this delightful fruit on
the tables of any but the wealthy; but
to-day they are to be found in most houses
during the.season, their extensive cultiva
tion haying brought down the prices so as to
make them come within the reach of all.
The tomato, or love apple as it was former
ly called, originally came from South
America, but it was not until the climate
of the United States was found to be eminent
ly adapted to their growth that they came
into general use, the taste for the same
spreading to Europe. It is, in addition to
its valuable hygienic qualities, one of the
most profitable fruits to cultivate, and we
know of one private gentleman who sends no
less than one ton to market daily in the
early season, the price paid for the Eame
averaging 6d per pound,, all of them
being grown under glass. Few come to per
fection in the open air, owing to the short
duration of sunshine in England. Like
the olive, it was a long time before people
became accustomed to the peculiar and deli
cate flavor, but each day they grow in popu
larity, so much so, indeed, that Cape Town
has been requisitioned for a supply of the
same when they are out of season here.
REPUBLICAN PLEDGES.
Mr.
Theodore Booaerelt Says HU Party
Should Make Good Its Promises,
From the Baltimore San.
. Mr. Theodore Boosevelt said: "I am
very glad to show my appreciation of what
reformers have been doing by going
to the Baltimore meeting, and I also
wish to add what little weight
I may have to keeping the in
coming'administration straight on the ques
tion of civil service reform. It is a pleasure
to me as a Bepublican to take part in any
such gathering. I want to do all I can to
help my party make good its pledges. Now
that the party has come into power I think
it especially incumbent to every civil serv
ice Bepublican to show that he is thorough
ly in earnest
"I want the Bepublican party when it
comes into power to make good the prom
ises it made in adversity, and to show that
the criticism made of its foes were made
honestly, and not merely to score partisan
points. It is for this reason that I have
heard with peculiar pleasure such speeches
as have been made by Senators Hawley and
Hoar and Congressman Lodge, and felt in
dignant as a Bepublican with certain of
Senator Ingalls' utterances. I expect, in
response to an invitation, to make a short
address after the main addresses are deliv
ered at the Baltimore conference."
Education In Nebraska.
Teacher (from the East) Npw, children,
all of you who intend to behaye and be good
hands up! '
Chorus No, you don't, pard.
gittin' no drop on us! Judge.
You ain't
Try It on Uncle Sam's Kary.
Detroit Free Press.
A .Norwegian engineer locates leaks in a
ship while in dry-dock by filling the ves
sel with smoke. The leaks are soon shown
by an escape of smoke, the process requir
ing only 30 or 10 minutes.
If you have not tried 8alvation Oil you
should do so, and you will be greatly sur
prised. -
rrnf riihi
j W'jfjKf3 wiii $ i .1
1 .Jti
'STOTDXT;
THE SWELL AT HOUR
How the New York Bachelor Out-
i
shines His Parisian Brother.
GAUDY APARTMENTS DESCRIBED.
The Queer Habits and Freaks of 'Some of
the lonn-r Millionaires.
A QUAINT COLLECTION OP PHOTOGRAPHS
wiurcjur roa the disfatch.J
wmm
HE lich bachelors of
New York are to my
mind the most comfort
ably and luxurious
ly housed men in the
world. I dd not know
exactly how to account
for it It seems to me
a condition of things
which exists only in
New York. Tbe London bachelor may be
a tremendous swell if he is rich, but in nine
cases out of ten he is satisfied with quiet
chambers in Jermyn street or in, a locality
that is similarly near the clubs', while the
larger portion of his income is expended for
guns, dogs, horses and a house or shooting
box somewhere in the country. In Paris
the apartments of bachelors are nearly
always pretty and tasteful, but seldom ex
pensive. The Frenchmen have a great
fancy for creton hangings and white paint
well gilded. The pictures in their rooms
are invariably good, but the decorations do
not display anything like the magnificence
that prevails in the homes of New York's
unmarried men. I think" that this is largely
because there are very few confirmed bache
lors in Paris. Every man in France looks
upon marriage as his fate. It is largely a
business transaction and he simply waits
until he can make a good bargain. Pend
ing that time he lives comfortably, but does
not invest fortunes in his surroundings.
I had breakfast once in Paris with a man
whose reputation as a vivier is more than
national. His name has been associated
with those of a number of famous women,
but aside from this phase of his life he is a
promoter of cable companies, a man of title,
a member of the Jockey Club and a Parisian
to his fingertips. He was just the sort of a
man, in tact, that one would expect to find
housed in magnificent fashion. I found that
he lived in an apartment on the first floor of
a big house on the Boulevard Haussmann.
His stable was in the rear of the house.
There was a drawing room, a dining room,
two or three bedrooms and then a long
passageway, at the end of which were the
servants' quarters and the kitchen. The
dining room was the most pretentious room
in the apartment We took breakfast there
at a table that would accommodate about
ten guests. The decorations were, in blue
and gold. Tbe table was oval to match the
room, the chairs were oak and the hangings
neither notable nor particularly valuable.
It was precisely like tho interior of any one
of five thousand flats in New York City.
A LUXURIOUS BACHELOR.
Yesterday, on the other hand, I met a man
on Broadway as I was walking up. toward
home to dinner whom I knew slightly, and,
who insisted upon my going into bis apart
ment for a glass of sherry as au appetizer.
His age is about 40 years, his habits are
stocky and methodical and he is not particu
larly attractive. "We turned into the Metro
politan Opera House building, went np in
the elevator and entered his apartment. The
reception room wasneutral tinted and every
thing was perfectly harmonized. "We went
from there into the drawingroom, and for a
moment I was astonished. There were
sixty or seventy thousand dollars' worth of
paintings on the walls, and the room plight
have perved fittingly for the antechamber of
the Czar. Indeed, X doubt if the Czar has
so cozy and beautiful an apartment in either
of bis places. The room was octagonal, and
in the middle of it was a plush lounge, or
settee, precisely the shape of the room in
miniature. The back rose to a marble base,
which was surmounted by a superb bronze
water nymph lite-size and wonderfully
graceful and perfect in outline. There were
several smaller bronzes about the room, and
all the divans and chairs were built so that
they fitted into certain niches in the, wall or
corresponded to the general contour of the
room.
The decorations of an adjoining room were
quite the reverse of all this. Everything
was blue and gold. The pictures were water
colors, and the panelling of the doors repre
sented a small fortune. Even the furniture
was of the light French pattern. It was
one of the prettiest little breakfast rooms I
have ever seen. The gentleman lives
alone in this magnificent place, indulging
his fancies with a lavish hand.
"I do not care to marry," he said in the
course of our short talk. "It is so much
better this way.'
A PHOIOOEAPH FIEND.
I know another bachelor in New York
whose rooms are. interesting from the fact
that he has for several years been an inde
fatigable collector of the photographs of
women. All of the photographs which ho
has secured in the course of many years' ac
quaintance with the women of the stage and
of the lesser strata of society are arranged
around his sleeping room in the form of a
deep frieze. There are two or threehundred
of them, and it is the most remarkable col
lection of notable faces that I have ever
seen. The frames are small and precisely
alike, and beneath tbe pictures is a fantastic
design which merges into a lot of goblins
and sprites painted on the four walls. The
bed is in the middle of the room, surmounted
by a canopy. The face of every famous
woman in the world is to be found in that
collection. Another row of photographs
may be added when the bachelor has col
lected enough.
This particular suite consists of fourrooms
in one of the most pretentious bachelor
apartment houses in New York. The rent
is 200 a month. The place is furnished
luxuriously. The bachelor's only regular
companions are bisservant and his dog. He
swears at them with equal eloqneLfo and
treats them precisely alike. One day when
I dropped in there at noon 7 found the 'oc
cupant of the apartments ttill in bed.
"I can't get ud yet," he said testily, "be
cause my servant hasn't come."
"While he spoke the servant came in in a
breathless and evidently much agitated con
dition. He was a middle-aged personage
who has been in his present service for many
years. He apologized for being late and
asked to be relieved at once. He said bis
mother was lying ill in St. Luke's Hospital,
and be didn't know at what moment she
might die.
"Well, this is a queer sort of a position
for a man to find himself in," said the
master, looking at the" servant solemnly.
"I'm in a blue funk. How can I dress? I
don't know where any of my things are."
"I'll lay everything out if you'll let me
go,',' said the man humbly.
"All right," said the rounder good-naturedly
alter a little deep thought Put the
studs fn the shirt and turn on tue bath and
I'll have a go at it myself."
" . AN ECCENTRIC FELLOW".
I suppose that there are no men on earth
more ntterly lonesome and unhappy than
the bachelors of a big town. Everything
goes well with the -first 40 years of a bache
lor life, but after he has passed that limit,
the crankiness he exhibits at all points is
almost beyond belief.
Another bachelor who interested me very
much in the course of my more or less ex
tensive acquaintance with New York and
New Yorkers was a man who was known by
the name of Mr. Davis. Bfit Davis was
not his name, because I ran across him
in London onceat a dinner and he was there
known by his own and entirely different cog
nomen. One summer jn New York a friend
of mine went to Europe suddenly two weeks
after having completed the furnishing of
a small snite 6f rooms in one of the most ex
pensive apartment houses in the city. He
fi
was a rich man, but like all of his kind, not
averse to turning an honest penny. He
offered to rent his rooms for $100 a month
and I took them for three months. They
were cool, airy and comfortable, and I lived
there nearly two months when I discovered
the janitor one morning craftily tiptoeing
along my corridor. The elevator had
stopped running and I had come upstairs
afoot, and so he had not heard me. it was
about two hours before daylight Tthought
at first he was a thief, and I watched him
quietly until he had passed my door and
gone to tbe end of the corridor. There I
saw him go down on his knees and apply
first his eye then his ear to the keyhole. It
occurred to me that I did. not want to have
that sort of a trick played at my own door,
and I called to him shortly. He did not
seem the least disconcerte'd but rose with a
sight of relief.
"The fact is, sir," he said with great can
dor, "I was scared nearly to death. One of
the maids told me as how Mr. Davis bad
come in half an hour ago, and I happened
to remember th3t for the first time in.three
years we had failed to leave a log smoulder
ing on the hearthstone with his slippers be
fore the fire."
""What do von mean?" I asked.
He took a passkey from his pocket and
led me into a suite of four rooms on the
corner of the house.
A QUEEB CONTBACT.
"Mr. Davis has had these rooms," said
the janitor, "for five years, and during that
time he has lived here only three weeks.
"We do not know where he lives or when he
comes to town, but the lease will be broken
according to his contract if the rooms are
not always ready for him. Winter and
summer we are to keep a log smouldering
on the hearth, leave his slippers before the
fire, turn his bed down, and see that there is
fresh water on the buffet."
Then he took me through the rooms. He
lighted the gas, and I had the pleasure of
looking upon some magnificent paintings
and small specimens of 'Oriental tapestry.
Fifty thousand dollars would be a small
value to put upoz the furniture and pictures
of the apartment It chanced that Mr.
Davis did come there for a night before I
left, and I got a glimpse of him the follow
ing morning in the elevator. He was a pale,
dissipated and bent man of perhaps 56 years
of age, with a wrinkled, discontented face
and a churlish manner. I discovered his
identity in London, but am not at liberty to
reveal it. He is a rich man, an Englishman
and' a bachelor. He has apartments in
London, Paris and New York, but when and
where he goes, or what his habits are, -no
one whom I have met could say.
I had rather be a coal heaver and live in a
cabin, however, than such a bachelor as my
quondam neighbor, Mr. Davis.
Blakelt.Hall.
A NEW-FANGLED WEDDING EINtt.
A Report From a Rosy Youth Who Has Jnat
Had to Gef One.
"There is a constant demand for novel
ties in wedding rings nowadays as well as
in every other article of luxury," an expert
jeweler said the other night, "and we have
to meet the demand or lose the very desira
ble custom of young couples contemplating
matrimony. This season has brought forth
the most curious and beautiful wedding
rings yet designed by the trade. Now isn't
this a dandy?"
The expert held up an oval loop of gold.
"Why.that's just like any other ring. The
oply difference is that it has a crooked
scratch asross the surface."
"Ah, that's just where the beauty lies,"
retorted the expert "Just notice this
effect."
He thrust a tiny pair of jeweler's priers
into the inner edge of tbe ring opposite
what appeared to be the scratch, pressed
lightly on the needle", and instantly the
ring dropped intohis hand transformed into
two tiny hoops of gold looped together. The
needle had split the ring into two halves,
each half having a flat, broad edge.
"There," said the jeweler, "you see that
the ring is more elaborate than it ap
pears to be. Those flat surfaces are de
signed for the purpose of being engraved
with any tender or romantic inscription
that the bride or groom desire to have
placed upon the ring, and they will contain
mnch more than can be put upon the inner
surface of an ordinary ring. After the en
graving is done the ring is closed again by
fitting the two hoops together, and locking
them securely by a concealed catch fitted
on the inner edge of the hoops. It requires
the closest scrutiny to discover, as you see,
that the ring is not an ordinary hoop of
gold. These rings have made a big hit.
One of them was used at a swell society
marriage in a Fifth avenue church the
other day. The society belle who was the
bride made the selection herself."
"How much do they cost?"
"The cheapest bring S16, and the value
increases with the increase of weight in the
ring. But of course the exquisite workman
ship and the knowledge that the ring is
something new and fashionable compensates
for tbe increased cost oyer the ordinary gold
nuptial symbol."
NOTHING LOST.
What Becomes of Food Waste In ''Paris
Everytblnc Utilized That Can Be.
Tbe Heme des Deux llondes has some
curious statements respecting the food con
sumption of Paris. In the large lyceums
and schools boys are generally very waste
ful; they will throw away half
the bread they get for lunch, tread
upon it, kick it into the gutter, ink
it, etc. None of these iragments are lost
The servants sell them to certain dealers
who are called boulangers en vicux, and
turn their acquisitions to good account.
They first pick out all the tolerable pieces,
which they heat in an oven and then rasp
clean. Thus prepared, these bits reappear
in the market in the shape of toast for soup.
Most of the coutons cut into lozenges and
served on the tables of the rich, with
spinach, have no other orign. As for the
dirty crumbs and refuse left after the pick
ing, they are pounded in a mortar and sold
to butchers as chapelure, with which they
cover thtir cutlets and knuckles of ham.
The reall) filthy remainder, which is too bad
even for chapelure, is blackened over a fire,
pounded, and then mixed up with honey
aromatized with a few drops of essence of
peppermint. This is sold as an opiate for
the toothache.
Poor Unman Nat ore.
First. Histrion The great need of the
stage, to-day, gentlemen, is a higher and
more ennobling standard of dignity among
its professionals! In the words of our great
master, the immortal Shakesp
Practical Soker-rHere's a glass of beer
for somebody! Puck.
11 lLidJons-
A liJMftB mm
HI.
.,.,,. IE!- IT
frajp
CTisa8MJs-aaZi
SOURCE OF DISEASE.
Dr. Hammond Tells How Occupations
Affect Health.
THB PROFESSIONAL- A1LMESTS.
Hoir the Struggle for Wealth is Wrecking
the Active ilen.
FANCIES OP THE TICTI3IS OP PARESIS
tWaiTTZK Ton TOI D1SPATCH.1
EOPLE well know that
certain occupations fol
lowed by mankind are in
themselves prejudicial to
health. It is not, how
ever, so distinctly recog"
nized that there are oth"
ers which, though pos
sessing no unsanitary
features, are detrimental
o the organism solely from the accidental
circumstances surrounding them or from
the unremitting energy with which they are
pursued. Thus the workers in lead, if not
extremely careful, and even at times, in
spite of all the precautions that may be
taken, become affected with paralysis and a
certain peculiar kind of colic. Painters
whojise pigments into the composition of
which lead largely enters are especially lia
ble to these diseases. Other artisans whose
labors require them to be exposed to the
vapors of mercury are affected thereby in a
very characteristic manner through the
toxic'influence of the metal, which is slowly
absorbed into the system Workers in
quicksilver mines, fire-gilders and looking
glass makers rarely escape contamination
and consequent poisoning. There is a wool
sorters disease, a grinders' disease, and
others too numerous to be referred to in a
paper like the, present.
PEOFESSIONAL DISEASES.
Then we have an interesting class of af-'
fections developed from the constant use of
the same muscles in the same occupation
and which are, I think, becoming more fre
quent with the advance of so-called civili
zation. These are met with among writers,
telegraphers, pianists, engravers and others
whose profession requires the frequent repe
tition of certain delicate muscular actions.
The professional diseases, as they may be
called, are especially remarkable for the
characteristic that the spasm, cramp or
paralysis, which is their principal symptom,
is only manifested when the affected muscles
are employed in the particular occupation
which has produced the disease. Thus the
subject of writers' paralysis, though utterly
unable to move his pen in such a way as to
write words, can perform any other act with
the fingers that may be witliin their power.
He can paint, draw, engrave, play the
violin, without the least difficulty, provided,
of course, that he is acquainted with the
technique of these several performances.
The various muscles employed in these acts
must be exercised to a great extent in ex
actly the same way as when engaged in
writing, and yet the one is impossible while
the others are" accomplished, not only with
ease, but even with pleasure. I have known
telegraphers who were utterly incapable of
manipulating the key ot their telegraphing
instrument but who could play the piano in
a skillful manner.
It would seem that in such cases the mind
must be affected to some degree. The cells
of the nervous centers which supply muscu
lar force appear to be exhausted only so far
as some one particular series of volitions is
concerned, while for all other volition) act
ing upon the same muscles their vitality is
unimpaired. The main element of cure in
such cases is absolute rest from the occupa
tion which has produced the disease, and
this not-only for a few weeks or months, but
generally for several years.
THE SPREAD OF PABESIS.
There is a disease which is certainly be
coming more common every day, and from
which recovery is so rare that many physi
ciansmostcapabIeof judging doubt if it ever
takes place, and that is general paralysis, or
general paresis, as it is sometimes called.
While probably not resulting from any par
ticular occupation, as such, it may be caused
by any employment which is above tbe
mental capacity of the individual, or which
involves great anxiety or in which there are
reverses or disappointments. It is especially
prevalent among those who are engaged in
financial speculations or in some business
requiring inventive powers or a degree of
knowledge which tbe nerson does not pos
sess. It is a most terrible outcome of the
struggle for wealth and position in which
the whole civilized world seems to be now
engaged. Those who are satisfied with their
lot in life or who, if not contented, have no
hope of improving their condition, and
hence make no effort in that direction, are
never affected with this disease. I doubt if
a single case ever occurred among the slaves
'of the South, while since their freedom it
has made its appearance among them and
their descendants.
There are both mental and physical symp
toms in general paralysis, and while the ap
proach of the disease is generally insidious,
its presence is indicated by certain phenom
ena which are unmistakable in their insig
nificance. .Chief among these is what tbe
Frpnch call deft're de grandeur, the "delir
ium of grandeur." THe patient, for in
stance, imagines that he is the richest or
the most powerful, or the strongest or the
handsomest man in all the world.
FREAKS OF THE AFFLICTED.
One poor fellow who did not own so much
as a mill pond informed me that all the
lakes in the universe belonged to him, and
that no one could navigate them without
paying- him toll. Another, who, after a se
ries of harrassing financial misfortunes, had
lost all his possessions in Wall street, imag
ined that all the diamonds in the world be
longed to him; that kings and bankers and
jewelers from all the countries in Europe
were in correspondence with him,offering him
immense sums of money for some of the
diamonds which he had stored away in a
cave in South America. He declared that
he had placed a sreat many of bis diamonds
on deposit with Tiffany and other venders
of precious stones, to be sold for his benefit
Another, while scarcely able to drag one
foot after another, bragged of his great run
ning capacity. Nothing in the whole world
was as fleet lie. He could outrun tbe swiftest
horses or tbe fastest railway engines.. If he
only could get beyond the attractive power
of the earth he could beat the planet in its
course around the sun. Like other general
paralytics, he knew no impossibilities, and
the most egregious incongruities were to his
mind models of logical reasoning, gashed
him one (lay how many children he had.
"Children,' he exclaimed, "I have thous
ands of acres of them." .
CKAZED BT GOOD LTJCK.
While it is true that general paralysis is
eenerallyproduced by disappointments or
reverses, yet such is not invariably the case.
One of tbe worst instances of the'disease I
ever saw was in ihe person of a gentleman
who, after many financial lossess, by a
stroke ot sudden good fortune made several
hundred theusand dollars. Here the sud
den revulsion appeared to be the exciting
cause, for a few days afterward the delirium
of grandeur made its appearance. He
stopped at Tiffany's on his way uptown,
and, purchasing a large amount of beauti
ful jewelry, made his wife put it on and
walk up and down In frontof him while he
sat admiring her. The slightest service
rendered to him was paid for by $1,000 or
more. In the course of one morning he
wrote 20 checks, each for'over $1,000, which
he tendered to bis servants for opening or
shutting a door, bringing him a glass of
water, ,or handinz hint a chair.
General paralysis is rarely seen in women.
There appears to be no reason for this, com
parative immunity other than the fact that
their ambitions and struggles are not so
weighty and intense as those which actuate
men. But as theex enters into politics aad
k
assumes the earn aa anxieties of a bsri
ness life it will doubtless be the case that
this exemption will disappear. A few cases
of the disease in women that hare come un
der my observation have been in thosa who
had been obliged to buffet with the world ia
the effort to save themselves and those de
pendent upon them from destitution, and
who barely accomplish their object in the
face of almost overwhelming oDstacles. .
"W'ttLIASt A. HA3CM02TD.
THE FIEESIDE SPHIflX.
A COLLECTION OF ENIGMATICAL NUTS
FOR. HOME CRACKING.
Address communications for this department
(oE.lt. CSADBOVKS.Lewitton, Maine.-
407 A CARD TBJCJC' "aSl
I'm ford of cards; like many mea -j
My taste for tbem developed wnea
I Anew thn difference between ' .
The jack and joker, king and quees.' Jf
Although the pass I cannot make.
Or any antics undertake.
In dealing once I turned a knave.
When lo! on my astonished gaza ' JJHfe
There hurst a picture of the world.
In panoramic view unfurled,
As if 'twere viewed from some balloos
Or empty crater in the moon.
Should any reader wish to see
The picture that so puzzled me.
He'll And the task is not so hard
If he bnt turn toe proper card.
whliax WrtsoaJ?
Mokteeal, Quebec:
498 NTTMEEICAL.
The 1.2. 3, 4, 5,
In swamps Is said to thrive.
The bark from this small wood ;
For 6, 7, 8 is good.
Cures his ills: and 'tis said
A whole can mend bis bead '?
Bv sending hira for 30 days ,.
Where he will try to mend his ways.
OwX.
499 A5T ORCHARD PUZZLE:
In one corner of a farmer's apple orchard
stood three rows of three trees each which he
give to his nine children. The following year
the entire yield from these trees was 183 bnsh- -els.
and the farmer and his children noticed
this peculiarity .about It: tbe yield from anv
three trees standing in a row was the same as
that from any other three also in a row, whether
counted straight from a side ordiaconallyfrom
a corner. Mary's tree bore tbelarget and
Tom's tbe smallest number of bushels. Fred's
bore one bnsiiel more than Suy's, and John's
one more than Dick's, and Will s, Harry's and
Anna's together bore 66 bushels. The girls'
trees stood In one row. Find the position in "
tbe square of each child's tree and the nomber ".
of bushels it yielded. Zoe.
500 A BOX.
Think over all tbe boxes
That you have ever seen.
Ana all that, you have heard of.
'L
u.nen name tne oox J. mean. j
Its lid was once uplifted y
On an unlucky day;
Gues. If you can, who opened It, . . w
And what within it lay. ? i
And then, when most its contents ' .
Were scattered to tbe wind.
Pray name to me the precious je-ra!
That still remained behind. -
Geo.
501 AjrAOEAM.
2Ir"Warbler" is no singing bird.
Whose notes are soft and mellow;
For yon will find him, on my word,
A very noisy fellow.
KELS03IA3
602 DIAMOND.
1. A letter. 2. Imperial ensign of a glooe,
with a cross on it 3. A painters frame. 4. An
idle talker. 5. Covered with pustules. 6L High
ly effective. 7. Cities in Spain. 8. A coarss
woolen cloth. 9. A letter. A. B. Or.
503 OBSCUBE aTEANINOS.
Obscure meanings? Tes. a few.
About a score perhaps will do.
Italicized to give more clew.
I am the one vou leer and Koot at.
1 am the mark you fix to shoot at;
And otherwise than that disclose
Tne-metal ring upon a hose.
A timber's end I am, and what
Seems rather s trance. 1 am that not;
While called the objert of an aim,
ln on the other hand, I claim,
A short piece ofunfurrowed land.
And thickest part of ox-hides tanned, ,
A limit, end, or bound, I mean.
And yet I am as a vessel seen.
A push or thrust I am, and more
Perhaps vou'lt-nnd me on yoardoor.
And yet I am. It may seem odd,
The end of a connecting rod.
If other meanings can be told.
They're snch as I shall not nnf old.
NELSoxmr.
504 A drummer's charade.
I had a distant point in view.
And thought, as many others do.
That it would be discreet and wise,
In all ways to economize.
To an official then I said,
"Can I two one to Marbleheadf
"That" said he, "you cannot do,
Unless you show me a one-two."
Bat when I told bim I bad none
He bluntly said, "Vou can't go one."
It was his duty to refnse;
I had no right a two to use.
And so I paid and onward sped;
I went not one to Marblehead.
505 A T0T75O
MECHANIC'S
LESS02T.
SPELU2TO
A boy was told to learn to spell the words in,
the following list He studied tbem carefully,,
rearranged them on his slate, and without'
transposing letters in any word, was able to
find the name of nearly every article in his
father's shop. How many of these names can
you And?
Mercantile, Nomad, Ascribe, Dismal. Defile,
Honesty. Zebra, Aspen, Vellum. Catechise,
Ganger, Stockade, Shawls, Terrible, Babbit,
Cllicious, Laxity, Advice, Haven. Enjoin,
Lethargy, Planet, Sham, Velvets,Awf nl.
J. W. Haekszss
505 INITIAL CHANGES.
First, we bave for washing ores the place;
Secondly, may mean a close embrace;
Third, we do when drinking to excess;
Fourth, a promiscuous crowd or press;
Fifth, see a confused or turbid fix;
Sixth, a nlace where dirt and water mix;
Seventh, to walk along with head inclined;
Eighth, a species of red earth e find.
M. E. Woodvoed.
HANDSOME PBIZES FOR MARCH.
Tbe sendee of tho best lot of answers to tha
puzzle published dnrin: March will receive a
Deantifully bound, profusely illustrated sinelo
volume cyclopedia of useful knowledge. Fo;
tbe next best lot a prize well worth winning
will bo given. Send tho solutions weekly, ana
don't expect to get them alL
ANSWERS.
4S9 At 1 o'clock P. M.
430 Nice bat.
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492-Yard.
3. play-yard: 2. yard-arm: 3, navy-
Vard; 4, dock-yard; 5. (bip-yard; S, brick-yard;!
i, steei-yaru: o, coaj-yara; v, inmucr-jrafu; Sm
nrison-vard: 11- barn-vard: 12. front-yard: MLl
yard of 88 Inches: 11, grave-yard:'lS, goldes-I
yard, the three stars In the belt of Urlon. S
TO-AVil VIII,
494 Rhirt-rinrlr.
4QrL-'RnltlIa fhrtftA, t 1 "!
406 M-on-key.
PALINDROMES.
Summer and Autumn.
Rnmmv ilinwara lnn treasures.-
There e woko tbe pipe and taborjji ,
By and Bye of social pleasures rSS
JtOO an autumn mutuu uwr.
A trilling BelpmeeU
Wo need no cook to read her book,
10 noil, 10 jry or wuu a i
Am ample neip, mamma.
"Thy speech doth betray the. ''
"Tell me the city which
I bail from, there's the raV "
And somethlnc In his speech '-test
Savored of tbe Hnb. K ,
Ana inns x nooKea tuo na Jfe. v-rfi
By phrases to let go; aw".
O slana is not so bad '-r1
A Motion tian also. L-j
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