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18.
THE PITTSBURG : DISPATCH, ' SUNDAY, -" APRIL 21, 1889.
:
.a
grav of the morning indeed, when she
could hardly see thonghshe had opened her
exes, .finding herself summonedbyihe En
glish speaking member of the Shawnee
yarty. This woman then made a prompt
gesture of silence, which gave her to under
stand that the fewer words spoken the
better. The woman wakened Mary as soon
as she saw that Sarah was well awake, and
in a whisper Sarah bade her be as still as
she might be. In a moment they were
upon their feet, and their guide silently led
them alonf the beach, on the other side of
t thft island from that where thev had been
Is upset. Here, in the gray morning light, to
Sarah's infinite relief, they could see a
canoe stranded. She needed no solicitation
when her guide pointed her where she
was i to sit. She placed Mary on
the seat, but did not enter it
herself till she had helped the other
to push it down the sand, and it was afloat
in the water. Tne girl had herself rowed
dories through the" Marblehead surf, and
"would have had no trouble in paddling the
canoe even had she been alone, hut ehe was
not to be alone. Her silent guide pushed
the boat into the water, and held it where
the water Tras above her own knees; and
then, when she saw Mary and Sarah both
seated in the stern, entered it herself so dex
terously that they were hardly aware of any
roll in the light craft, and then, with her
own paddle, steered off shore. She let the
current of the river carry her well by the
island, then crossed to the western or south
ern side, and, in the eddy which she fonnd
there, worked up to the very camp which
the girls and Cephas Titcomb had been try
ing to make when their unfortunate acci
dent befell them. The sky began to grow
red in the east as she ran the canoe upon the
beach there, pointed to the ark which lay a
little way above, and then, without so much as
heeding Sarah's goodby, re-entered her own
canoe, as she had done before, paddled
stoutly out into the current, and per
mitted herself to drift down to her
island. She had made no attempt to
explain herself, and Sarah's eager expres
sions of gratitude to her seemed to fall un
seeded; they were perhaps wholly unintelli
gible. For herself, Sarah Parris was more
rejoiced than words could tell. With her
charge she walked along the sand to the
ark, and as she approached it saw one of
the men come out, stretching himself and
yawning, from a little shelter he had made
Jor himself in the cottonwood. He recog
nized her, having, indeed, often seen her
in the hospitalities of the voyage
of the fleet, if it may so be called,
and of course asked her story,
which was quickly told. The other in
mates of the ark were called at once, even
rather earlier, perhaps, than they had ex-
pec ted; a fire was soon built upon the shore,
L. and an early breakfast made. "With the
skiff which this ark trailed with her as a J
sort of tender, the two girls were soon dis-
j patched to their side of the river, and car
ried with them their own account of their
adventure.
"So, my dear aunt, all's well that ends
well." This is the end of the letter which
Sarah wrote to her aunt on the morning as
they were waiting for the return of the two
boys. There was a certain anxiety lest
these boys might have fallen into the hands
of the hunting party whose weaker side had
rendered the two girls the hospitality of the
sight befoie. As often as once in a quarter
of an hour a shot was fired, in the hope that
it might call some response from them if
they were straggling in the woods, and once
Mr. Titcomb even loaded the little swivel
which he had upon the ark, and made it
wake the echoes of the banks on both sides.
But the balance of probabilities wis in
favor of two stout boys who had been last
seen holding on by the canoe; and, in fact,
before 2 o'clock of the same dav, the boys
presented themselves. They had drifted
down the river farther than they wished be
fore they had been able to make the shore;
then in the morning they had made a visit,
which had taken tbem more time than they
liked, to what Mary insisted on calling
"the friendly island;" but they had at last
escaped from the temptations of the sirens
"there, and worked their way up to the en
f been done much more quickly had tney
campment of the party. J.uis would nave
been done much more quickly had they
known the eddies and currents as well as
, did Sarah's guide.
Everything was then refitted for the
voyage'down the river, and we have now
told "the only adventure which was an ad
venture," as Sarah wrote in her letter to her
aunt, which occurred before the party
arrived in the mouth of the Muskingum.
The Ohio river at this point sweeps down
almost parallel with the Muskineum, and
then, alter a sudden, receives the addition
made by that river. The Titcombs knew
the lay of the land well enough to be on the
lookout for the fort, and the great helm of
the ark brought her up at its landing. The
current of the Muskingum that day was
very strong, and the hour was late. General
Harniar and the officers were cordial and
hospitable, and begged the travelers to
spend the night within the barracks, but j
tuey could not bear to come so near tne
journey's end without finishing it, and Mr.
Titcomb excused himself from accepting
these hospitalities. He would leave his
ark, he said, to be carried across the stream
when he should find where she was to lie,
but he borrowed one of the boats of the
garrison, and with his boys paddled the
women of the party across and up to the
Marietta landing, carrying with them such
conveniences as they might need for the
sight. And so, just as the sun went down,
they found themselves in their new home.
It was a week to a day since Harry Cur
wen had landed at the same spot, and had
walked np to First street, looking after the
very people wno, in their turn, were now
wondering at all they saw. Every one
asked first for General Bufns Putnam, that
noble leader of the people, a man who
showed himself equal to the largest cares
and cpneerus, was called upon almost of
course for each smallest service, and was as
ready in the one as he was successful in the
other. At this moment he was in his own
cabin, with the members of his household
around-him at supper. To Mary's amuse
ment, the string of which she had often
heard hung out from an augur hole in the
door, and, when a hearty "Come in" an
swered her father's knock, and be pulled at
this string, the wooden latch rose, and the
door swung open. At a long pine table set
on trestles was a large party of men and
women. At the head was Bufus Putnam,
looking the leader which he was. He was
still in the prime of life, tall, vigorous and
handsome. In a moment he had sprung
from his seat and came, forward cordially,
but he said at once, "I do not know you, do
2?" The elder Titcomb laughed and said,
"I know you, General; everybody knows
you, but you have not spoken to me since
the day when you sent me with a file of men
io burn the bridge over Dobbin's creek in
Jersey. I don't- know, General, but I al
ways thoucht that when you turned away
you said to that Frenchman that the ten of
us was enough to be cut to pieces. I was
Sergeant Titcomb that day, of the Nine
teenth Massachusetts; now I am plain
Cephas Titcomb, and I have come with my
folks to see what kind of farming there is in
the Muskingum."
Bather to bis surprise. General Putnam
seemed to care more lor hisnamethan forthe
memory of Dobson's creek, athough he per
fectly well remembered the circumstance of
the bridge. The General confessed very
frankly that he probably said to the French
officer 'that the file of men he tent were
enough to be cut to pieces. But now, with
l lfl(rli Tio wft TrilHnf In (tar "Vnn iinrlpr-
stood your business so well that we cut offl
that whole cavalry troop, if you remember,
and I think, Sergeant, that you were not
sergeant many days longer." At which
recollection ot his promotion the other
smiled, well pleased. Bnt the conversation
drifted at once into matters of more imme
' diate importance.
i 'Tour name is Titcomb?" said General
Putnam, "Titcomb, and you are from New
Tury?" Cephas replied that it was pre
i cisely so.
I "Who is it who is it that is here that
t wants to see you?" said General Putnam.
' "There was a man askingfor you here yester
day no, not yesterday, but not long ago.
h Are there any Newbury people here whom
you know? The Bovntons and their set
(lave moved up the liver to Belpre."
Cephas Titcomb enumerated the various
jfewbury families who would know him,
nd the General again racked his memory,
UriH.VW MM TIIW f.MH VUVIUMW UVUU? I
tails, to recollect who had been asking for
some Titcombs.
But meanwhile his women-folk had asked
in the other women-folk, had entreated
them hospitably, and made them lay aside
their wraps; and stools and boxes and bar
rels bad been provided for them to sit upon.
The men ot Putnam's household had moved
away, some with bits of bread and pork in
their hands and some pretending that their
supper was done; clean plates had been
brought and put upon the table, and in
spite of all protestations that they were not
hungry, good Mrs. Titcomb, Sarah Parris,
Mary and the rest, found themselves seated
at the amply provided table. No token
here of the destitution or starvation of new
colonists ! The different hospitalities were
pressed by Mrs. Putnam, who -presided at
the table, and matters were going on, with
rapid question and answer as to the success
if the voyage, when Sarah's cheeks flushed
and she was unable to answer the question
as to what she saw at Fort Pitt, because she
heard General Putnam say:
"I know who it was. It was that young
fellow from the fort you will remember
him, Titcomb, you will remember him. It
was Harry Curwen. He is a Lieutenant in
your Salem company; he acted us aid to
Varnum only two years ago in the muster at
Ipswich. I don't know whether your com
pany was there, but I sav him. We had
dinner together in my tent that day nice
looking, manly fellow, he is, thongh he is of
the old Tory stock. It was he that was here,
and he was asking after you."
"Asking after me?" said Cephas Titcomb.
"Why should any of the Curwens ask after
me? ily brother John, he see old 'Lisha
Curwen in London once, when the war was
over, and he said the old Tory sung pretty
small, and wished he was back to Essex
again. I guess they all do, General. I
guess they'd rather be in your cabin here
than feasting with the King in his palace.
But I never see any of the Curwens; they
went their way and I went mine. Why
should any of the Curwens ask after Cephas
Titcomb?"
Sarah Parris listened with all her ears.
bnt the conversation refused to turn on thel
TrnvawA-! ,nw amJ & f Jl &m. dL.
UUIDCJIBAUI 1UU1C, flliU BUG iUUUU. VUlk. IUC
men were talking of trees and lumber and
sawmills and boat building, while the
women were talking of Jersey tea and dry
ing berries and weaving and spinning, and
she was left to wonder herself to sleep that
night with the question, How could it be
that Harry Curwen should be talking to
General Putnam? and in wondering what
had become of him.
CHAPTEE EC
THE LOG HOME.
Into all the intricacies of land titles,
reservations, town lots and farm lots, which
occupied the politics of the Titcomb family
for the next weeks, this little story must not
go. There are conveyancers who would
make the ins and outs of that narrative as
attractive as ever Dickens made a tale of
London slums. But our story runs for the
present on other lines, and we must leave it
to one of our Ohio friends to work out as he
chooses those delicate rootlets of the title.
Suffice it to say that to Cephas Titcomb's
experienced eye it was soon clear that the
very best spots in the neighborhood of Ma
rietta had been taken up. He determined
to accompany the surveying party up the
Muskingum river, and before a fortnight
was over he and his, by the aid of a good
stiff south gale, much hauling and poling
and infinite work on the part of all con
cerned, had succeeded in bringing their ark
some 10 or 15 miles from Marietta, where he
had taken for himself a new claim, more
distant from the town than Mrs. Titcomb
would have liked, bnt on the edge of a grove
so beautiful that the Titcomb's of this gen
eration bless him with all their hearts for
the choice of that summer day when he
planted them there. Perhaps he would
have said that the choice was Hobson's
choice that he went as far as he could, and
that he stopped because he could go no
farther.
It was already late in the summer and
little enongh could be done in the way of.
farming, although the provident man did
land, that be might try some experiments
before the winter.
And yet another novelist, of the archi
tectural or constructive vein, would make
for us a story of the history of those two log
cabins as they rose. Most of Mr. Titcomb's
companions had determined "on the
whole" to remain with him through the
winter, though to people who understood
the New Englander it may be said that no
man had bound himself, no, not for an hour,
to do anything or to be anywhere in the
future. But "on the whole" again, it
"seemed as if they "might as well" stay
with him. And the sturdy men who had
helped build the ark began the work of
erecting the cabins. None of "them were
afraid of work not a man, woman or child.
The women did not ply the ax, except to
split wood, but the men did and the boys
did. Hobson's choice and Titcomb's
choice together had resulted in their being
near one of the groves which distinguish
the Ohio prairies from those farther west.
And it was not long before logs enongh
were cnt to make the walls of these
cabins high enongh for any man who would
enter through the door. "We'll make 'em
seven foot in the clear, said Cephas Tit
comb, with a grim humor, "lest any of them
big Virginny men they tell on, want to
come in and make us a visit. They shan't
have to duck their heads because they come
into onr cabins.' The little sawmill on
the river was heavily pressed by the differ
ent settlers, but still a few planks were
floated up for use in the floor and for mak
ing doors and tables. Cephas went so far
as to rig a sawpit, much to the grief of the
boys and young men who occasionally had
to work in it, but this work was avoided by
every device, and the simpler power of the
stream was made to take its place. The
days were growing shorter, and at the
very best they seemed only too short to the
industrious "workmen and workwomen.
"You're alias hungry as bears three times
a day, said Airs. Titcomb good naturedlv,
as her working party came into her cabin
after it was finished. The reader under
stands, of course, that one and the same
room was hall of entrance, kitohen, sitting
room, best room and bedroom. At one end
an immense fireplace of logs, covered thick
with clay, opened an immense chimney to
the sky. It never really happened
that logs were hauled into the kitch
en by the horses, but they were
rolled up by crowbars, and lifted to their
places by the joined force of two or three
men. A fire once made held to its work
through the day and evening, sever went
out, indeed, and, as the great log, burned,
the women threw in light stuff enough to
give the blaze or special heat which they
required when a pot was to be "brought to
a boil" or when a turkey was to be roasted.
For food there was constant stock of what
we call prairie hens, until the family tired
of the frequent luxury; there were as many
turkeys as people would eat The gardens
of Marietta, as autumn drew on; furnished
already the white beans which replaced
those which Mrs. Titcomb had taken from
the barrels so carefully brought from New
England. The Marietta farms had also
produced enough Indian meal to carry them
through the winter. They ground this in
hand-mills from time to time as they needed
it If anybody complained of salt pork, he
was told to take his gun into the woods and
bring in a deer or a bear, and there was no
difficulty in supplying the demand. It was
clear enongh that they were not to die of
hunger that winter.
At first there was no lack of society. Al
most every day there would be a messenger
sent down to the town for this or that, which
had been forgotten, or which was seeded in
the building. But this changed as autumn
came on. They were themselves almost the
last of the settlers of that summer who came 1
up the Muskingum. At first, from time to
time, one or another adventurer going far
ther, or one or another surveyor returning,
stopped for their hospitality at night, or at
breakfast, at dinner, or at supper. Bat
such occasions became more and more rare
as October closed in, and now it wo.uld hap
pen that for a week at a time no one spoke
to them from outside their own company.'
it mignt be tnat an inuian tramp came to
the door, and gave an unintelligible indica
tion that he was present and -wanted some-
thing to eat. They already knew that the
MBBW.B V. fW.WMU IUVHUI IIHI J9 "CM
hungry. These lords of the soil had estab
lished a certain ground rent, shall we say,
by which the new occupants were notified
from time to time that they were not the or
ignal possessors. There was not a woman,
and there was hardly a man who would have
dared refuse the application thus made.
And if a great Shawnee hunter did apnear,
Mrs. Titcomb and Sarah had learned, before
the winter came on, not to be afraid of him.
They .knew that, like other menj he was
hungry, and they knew that he expected to
be fed. They knew he would be quite in
different as to knife or fork, but they knew
that he would eat more than they had con
ceived it possible for a human being to eat,
when they left home.
On the other hand, they were not par
ticular as to what they gave him. If there
were dry and hard Johnny cakes laid aside,
they were good enough for Indians; if there
were hominy only half-cooked in the pot, it
was good enough for Indians; if there were
salt pork not yet boiled or fried, it was
good enough lor ipdians; and they had no
experience of any warrior or hunter refus
ing anything that was set before him. If
the man wanted to spend the night, a buf
falo skin was given him, and he spread it
'where he chose. No salutes were exchanged
on the arrival of such guests, and none
when they departed.
Sarah Parris wondered with herself some
times, especially when the quiet Sunday
came, with an opportunity to look .in upon
herself a little, that she was so entirely
satisfied with the life that she was living.
There was no writing in a journal; there
was no committing to memory of Mr. Cow
per's poems or Dr. Young's sentimentalities;
there was no chattering with other girls of
her own age; there was no cutting over of
dresses or matching of ribbons; there was
absolutely nothing of the life which had in
terested her only a year ago. And yet, as
she said to herself again and .again, she was
happier, stronger, indeed in every sense
she was better than she was in Salem.
Sometimes, when she was in the mood for
analysis, she said to herself it was because
she was of more use; sometimes she said it
was because she dealt more with the realities
of things. Sometimes she tried to persuade
herself it was because she was in the open
air; sometimes, in her reverential moods,
she said she was nearer God under His
sky, than she was in a lighted
dancing room or in an elegant parlor. Of a
rainy Sunday, she would bring out from her
little chest one or another of her books and
try to read, as she knew she would have read
in her pretty room at Mrs. Whitman's if she
were in Salem and there were a storm.
Sometimes she did read, but she was well
aware that she was not interested in the
book as she had been when there was less to
interest her outside. She even wished
sometimes that she had the writing of the
book herself, and felt that she could come
nearer to what she called "the true thing"
once, when she was trying to make Mrs.
Titcomb understand her, than the stately
English writers in whom she had been so
much interested while she was at home.
The truth was that in.the six months which
the girl had spent in measuring herself
against other people and against the world,
she had advanced in life as she had sot
done in five years before. Her soul was a
larger soul, her mind was a larger mind,
even as her body was a different body. And,
as she sat one day cutting to pieces one of
tne dresses wnicn sue bad brought out tor
the winter, so that she might be able to put
it on, she said to herself what she dared not
say to Mrs. Titcomb that she believed she
had grown as much in other ways as she was
sure she had gained in the length of the belt
she wore.
They were all happy because it did not
occur to them that they were happy. They
had not time to ask themselves the question
whether they enjoyed their lives, and the
first consequence was that they had "the joy
of eventful living," and all lived as if they
had neverlived before. So passed October,
and so, with an occasional frost now, the
glorious Indian summer of November came
in.
Concluded Next Sunday.
Copyrighted, 1889, by E. E. Hale.
CHICAGO GIRLS' GAME.
They Faint Without Reason, Except to Get
a Carriage Ride.
Chicago Times. 3
"I don't think women faint as easily as
they would have us men believe," remarked
a horny-handed young man who is employed
in a Westside factory.
"There is a number of girls in the shop,"
he continued, "who work among the drying
ovens, where the heat is intense, and every
sow and then a girl succumbs to the heat
and faints dead away. The head of the
firm is a kind-hearted man, and he has
given instructions to the foreman, in events
of this kind, to order a carriage and send
the girl home. A girl who can faint fluently
is an object of envy and admiration among
the other girls, and she is sometimes re
garded with jealous suspicion, too.
"Not longagoa serious accident happened
to one of the girls while at work, and then
followed one of the most harrowing fainting
recitals I ever witnessed. The girls fell in'
all directions; some went into hysterics and
others had fits and tried to bite the gallant
workmen who endeavored to revive them.
As fast as they fell they were carried out of
the fainting department, and a doctor, who
had been sent for at the time of the accident,
applied restoratives. Then, when they were
able to travel, they were sent home in car
riages, barouches and coupes, each girl in
charge of a trusty male employe. A fat
blonde, who was among the first to lapse
into utter unconsciousness, was being car
ried out by a little sparrow-legged Norwe
gian, who had clasped her about the waist
from behind. As he staggered along under
his burden the obliging girl held her feet
clear of the floor to make the trip easier
for him. But she went home in a
carriage just the same. ..Well,
the excitement had about died
out, when a big, red-cheeked, 200-pound
eirl. who had never before been known to
faint, suddenly slid into a state of coma. A
dozen muscular workmen got a plank under
the girl and carried her out to another
room, where an attempt was made to revive
her, but without avail.
"The doctor was feeling her pulse, an
other girl was plying a fan, the foreman
was pouring water down her back and two
men were slapping her feet, when a big po
liceman came in to make a police report of
the accident. He approached the group
surrounding the unconscious girl, when she
accidentally opened one eye. As she caught
a glimpse of the big copper she jumped to
her feet and shrieked:
" 'I an't acoin' home in no patrol wagon?'
"She waited."
A Princely Tooth Poller.
Portland Oregon ian.
One European Prince has quit living off
the toil of others, come over to the United
States and gone to work to make an honest
living. This is Prince Karl Ludwig, of
Wurtemburg, and he is practicing dentistry
in New Orleans.
It Came Higher.
5 - ? .
o
-3 -
(Scene New York Banking House.)
Sir Rotten Bowe (just over, to Office
Boy. who has brought him some American
money) What is this ?
Office Boy One cent, sirl
SirBotten Bowe (with satisfied air) Ah,
yes; I can tip me hotel waiter with itl
Office Boy (aside) Guess he don't know
the anunalf Puck. ' ,ijT, '
LK ' Ku ? -r-s ? --
BATHS OFTp- RICH
That Vie in Splendor With Those of
the Great Roman Emperors.
MRS. VANDERBILT'S BATHROOM.
Mirrors, Exquisite Marbles and Frescoes
Combine to
MAKE IT A THING OF IDEAL BEAUTY
rwMTTES FOB THE DISPATCH.
If the Persian who is represented as ex
ploring among the ruins of New York in the
editor of Life's recent skit, had discovered
any one of several bathrooms in which some
of our rich men and women lave, as Cuvier
could build up a mastodon from a single
bone, he might have reconstructed entire
our era of great wealth. With their marble,
and onyx, their crystal and silver, they are
like tales out of the Arabian Nights. They
seem to be the culmination and epitome of
our material prosperity.
Somebody has said that the three ideal
bathrooms of the world are those of Marie'
Antoinette at Foiitainbleau so recently, of
Madame Daniel Wilson at Chenonceaux
and ot Mrs. William K. Tanderbilt. But
that of Marie Antoinette can claim pre-eminence.
Artists have raved over it, lovers
have dreamed of it, poets have Bung it,
and architects have copied it. It has
evolved more print and more eloquence
than all the rest of the historic pile. The
walls literally exude romance. The Em
press.Eugenie endeavored to link her name
with the charmed spot, but the ruthless
French effaced her monogram and the verses
she wrote on a glass panel they removed en
tire. It, in fact, not only inspired Mrs.
Vanderbilt's bathroom, but the one de
signed for Mrs. Seward Webb in her
father's house.
FBENCH I.UXUBY.
Marie Antoinette's bathroom is a series of
three rooms; or, one room in three divisions.
Of these, one overlooks a garden; the mid
dle connects with bedrooms on either side;
the third is an alcove in which is the bath.
The first two rooms are hung in silk, with
beautiful paintings over the doors; the ceil
ing is in relief and colored with soft rich
tint. The tubroonr is panelled in marble,
and the tub, which is of marble, is set in the
wall and fed by swans' necks and heads of
solid silver. Back ot the tub is a large
mirror, and this mirror is painted over with
dimpled little boys why always boys no
one knows pelting one another with
flowers. Mirrors are set also in the ceilings
as ponds like crystal lakes amid the soft
Louis XVI. garlands. Imagination can
scarcely go further than this reality, in
which beauty is reflected and multiplied,
and in which is inextricably mingled the
figure of the fair and luckless Queen.
The splendor we have, the romance we will
have to do without. In fact, in this busy,
money-getting age, the imagination carries
one too near the Iudicrons to be unleashed..
The late Mr. Vanderbilt was no nymph.
No more is Mr. Marquand, nor Mr. Bobert
Garrett and other rich men who have bath
rooms panelled in mirrors and wreathed in
morning glories. In two of the Vanderbilt
bathrooms the feature of the mirrors is
doubled. In that of Mr.W. H. Vanderbilt's
house now attached to the guest room, the
wood used is the lustrous silken satin wood,
and the wainscoting, the wardrobes and the
bath are lined with Mexican onyx, which
repeats in greater beauty the tints of the
satin wood. The doors are panelled with
mirrors to the floor. Above the wainscot
ting the wall is overlaid with small bevelled
mirrors, and these are carried up to and
over the ceiling. Veiling these thousand
eyes is a filmy net-work of lace painted on
the mirrors, but parting above in order that
cupids may peer through. What would
Mr. Mitchell's Persian have thought of this
pretty fancy?
AMERICAN GOKGEOUSNESS.
Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt's bathroom is
even more ideally beautiful. In fact Mr.
Jt. M. Hunt, who is the architect of the
house, has done nothing more absolutely
perfect. The room has a high marble
wainscoting, perfectly plain to the top,
where there is a band of incased ornament
traced in gold. The walls above are pan
elled in small bevelled mirrors separated by
bands of gilt molding. Over these are
I tainted apple blossoms, drooping sprays
aden with bloom. The ceiling is modeled
in Henry II. ornament, for the bath con
nects with a Henry III. bedroom, and is
colored in cream and gold. The color har
mony of this cream, pink and gold caught
here and there and echoed by the mirrors is
one of the triumphsof latter day decoration.
Beneath all this beauty is the tub cut out
of a solid block of marble, with a carved
molding of scallop shells. The faucets are
swans heads and breasts of solid silver, and
at the head of this magnificence is a niche
in which is a copy of that fair figure of a
bather with her tunic lifted and about to
step in the bath, by one of Coysevox broth
ers, sculptors in the days of Louis XVL,
and the original of which is in the Louvre.
A marble slab resting on fabled creatures is
the only piece of furniture in the room.
The Uhenonceaux bathroom is the inspirer
of other New York bathrooms equally mag
nificent, as those of Mr. W. K. Vanderbilt
and Mr. Marquand. No chateau in France
is richer in memories than Chenonceaux.
It was begun bv Louis XTT. for Anne of
Brittanny. Hither the gallant Henry IT.
brought the fair widow Diana de Poitiers,
who was ousted after a time by the strong
minded Catherine de Medici, "who coveted
this gem of the valley of Loire. For two
centuries Chenonceaux has not been state
property, and its fortunes have been brill
iant, dui vagrant. j.ts last owner was Aiadam
Pelouze, the devoted sister of that recent
scapegrace, Daniel Wilson, son-in-law of
President Grevy, and for whose debts
Madam Pelouze has had to sell and resign
the chateau she had so enriched.
SPIiENDID SCE25TC EFFECTS.
This bathroom was added by Madam Pe
louze. It is a large room with a vaulted
ceiling, or what the architects call a barrel
arch. The walls are paneled to the arch in
colored marbles, and the arch is painted
with sky, clouds, birds and vines to render
an out-of-door effect. The bath is made of
marble sunk in the floor and occupies the
entire room. A flight of marble steps de
scends into it from the door, and it is fed
from dolphins' heads cut in the. marbles.
Mr. W. K. Vanderbilt's bath copies this
with a difference. The vaulted arch is laid
in Moorish designs, and the walls are wains
coted in Moorish tiles. The bath does not
occupy the entire room, but it is sunk in the
floor and reached by steps, and the bath and
all the toilet arrangements are faced in
"Mexican onyx.
Mr. Marquand's bath resembles this in
some features. The walls are wainscoted
and the bath which is not sunk, is faced
with old Saracenio tiles, broughtfrom Spain
with shining, lustrous faces, lost with the
disappearance of the Moors. All the
angles are cushioned with round, polished
metal. Above, is a barrel arch decorated by
Mr. Francis Lattrop in design and tint to
complete the Moorish character of the room.
In the bathroom of Mr. Marquand's son
there are further reminiscences of Chenon
ceaux. The bathroom is three times the
ordinary size, and the length of the room
and half its width is occupied by a marble
basin into which several steps descend. It
is so large that youngJIr. Marquand may
chose the spot in which he prefers to bathe,
and in a moderate way strike out. It has
Indeed something of the effect bf a swim
ming tank, and is fed through carved dol
phins. , X rOMFEIAJT BATHTUB.
The private bath of the late Mr. W, H.
Vanderbilt was Pompeian in decoration.
It was panelled in mahogany and the ward-
aqy, while the interior was lined with glu
-tiles. Above, the freize was painted in
Pompeian designs of women and cupids.
Mr. Bobert Garrett in his bathroom
makes a new departure at least in decora
tion, lor his bath, which is also of marble, is
sunk in the floor as those of Mr. W. K. Van
derbilt and yonng Mr. Marquand. But the
room itself, after the designs of Mr. George
Maynard, takes the semblance of an arbor.
It is, to the eye, bounded by a lattice
wreathed in morning glories. On each side
is an octagonal opening. One is filled with
a mirror; on the other cupids sat gathering
flowers. Everything contributes to an out-of-door
effect. The climate of Baltimore is,
warmer than New York and so airy a bath
ing place may-affect the imagination as de
lightfully as it does the eye, for it is charm
ing in color. Mr. Maynard's painting has
been done on white marble, and then sub
mitted to what is known as the endo
lithic process by which marble is made to
take any design or any hue. Here it is
made to harmonize with the creamy tints of
Siena marble, which is used in bands below
the decoration.
So varied are tastes that while Mr. Gar
rett luxuriates among vines and flowers dur
ing his purification, in the house of Mrs.
Seward Webb the bathroom is a gleaming
white marble case. The floor, walls, ceil
ing and bath are spotless white marble, the
only variation of tint being in the silver fix
tures, the flashing crystalline tint of which
only accents the coldness of the interior. It
would be like bathing in a snow bank.
Possibly the sensation of contrast may be
one of the delights of this bathroom, for the
heating arrangements are perfert.
A TEMPLE OF PUBITY.
The bathroom of Mr. Howell Osborne in
the Mamaroneck villa is also a very temple
of purity. It is lined and ceiled with white
enamel tiles, which yield a lovely soft
radiance from their highly polished sur
face. The only color in the room is from a
large decorative panel three feet by four at
the head of the bath. This was designed by
Mr. Maynard, the subject being a fountain
attended by three nymphs, graceful in form
and charming in color. This painting is
on tiles that were afterward fired, and hence
cannot be injuriedby any amount of splash
ing from the tub.
in JJir. v niteiaw Keid s home to each
chamber is attached a large toilet room and
bath. In these there is no attempt at deco
ration. The walls are wainscoted high with
white enamel tiles, the baths are porcelain
lined and the final evidence that everything
is bent toward cleanliness and health, is the
plumbing, which is all exposed. In the
upper floor among the servants' apartments,
are two bathrooms appointed in the same
manner, one on each side of the long par
tition that separates the quarters of men
and maids.
In Mr. Marquand's house the servants'
baths are as carefully considered as in the
Villard home. Thev are lined with the
same white enamel tiles, and if necessary
can be cleaned with a hose.
These enamel tiles, which are not only
white but may be found in the tints of
heaven sunset, pearl and gold, all of which
seem to make them practical as well as
pretty, are all in all the most valuable
things that the desire for decorative in
teriors has produced. They come within
the means of people who cannot afford to
spend much money, and the possibilities of
prettiness and cleanliness go hand in hand
in a manner that presses closely upon that
cleanliness which ranks next to godliness.
Glass tiles are also used for bathrooms, and
in turquoise or tints of sea green have
special fitness
Maey Gat Humphbets.
A CfiAWLING FENCE.
A Snake Story Told by an Old Resident of
the Mountain Regions.
Kingston Freeman.
"The Traps" is the name of a locality on
the top of the Shawagunk Mountains, about
midway between New Paltz and Tnttle
town. It is nearly all rock and covered, as
the settlers who live near there Hsay. with
"underbush, huckleberries and snakes."
The mountain seems to be split at this poin.t,
and into the split hunters set traps for
game. This is why it is called "The
Traps." This forenoon a resident of that
delectable neighborhood told the following
snake story, which he said he had every
reason to believe was true: "About ten
years ago a man named Daniel Hasbrouck,
called ly his neighbors "Mountain Dan
Hasbrouck,' owned a farm which took in
a part of the mountain where 'The Traps'
are. One forenoon he started out to build
a piece of rail fence. He had cut the
rails about two weeks before, and
had them near at hand. The night before
was a cold one, and early in- the morning
the frost covered everything. 'Dan' worked
hard and fast. About 11 o'clock he went
home for dinner. The forenoon had been
cloudy and disagreeable. The wind blew
cold and chilly, 'and 'Dan' was satisfied to
go home early. About noon the sun shone
out brightly, the wind died away and it
was warm like. 'Mountain Dan,' after hav
ing finished his noon meal, returned to his
work. When he reached the spot he found
that his fence had disappeared. Not one
rail was left. The disappearance of the
fence which had been carefully made bhim
was beyond his comprehension. Going to
the spot where he had commenced his work
he was startled by the movement of a big
Id Icicle si! &kc
" 'There,' said Dan,' as he told the story,
Til be busted, by gosh, if I haint laid that
there fence up with black snakes.
" 'Sure enough, the snakes had been
frozen stiff during the night, and 'Dan'
thinking they were rails, had laid them up
just as he would wooden rails. While he
had gone to dinner the sun had warmed
them up a bit and they crawled away.
'Dan' said that he measured the snake lie
killed and it was eight feet in length. He
had an ax with him, and it was as long
as four lengths of the handle. I reckon the
whole lot of blpckies must have been from
6 to 10 feet long and about from 3 to i
inches through."
FISHING FOR GANDERS.
now a Soldier While Foraging Caught a
Bird for Supper. '
The old story of the Maine soldier who
was caught skinning the sheep and re
marked that no sheep could bite him and
live, reminds a contributor to the Oxford
Advertiser of a veteran of the "unpleasant
ness" of 20 years ago, who regularly draws
his check from a P. O. on the banks
of the Androscoggin. At' one time while
in the enemy's country the order "no forag
ing" was issued. About dusk our hero
might have been seen on a very rapid re
treat from the rear of a farmhouse near by,
closely pursued by a rebel gander with
wings outspread, whqye feet seemed to
scarcely touch the ground, and from whose
beakjssued angry screams. .
The fugitive was not at all reassured by
the dies of the owner,"H6ld on, soldier, be
won't hurt you?" The soldier nevir stopped
until he reached his friends, who of course
relieved him from his pursuer with the
aid of the butt of a musket. Who removed
the hook with the cod line attached from
the mouth of the unfortunate gander, still
remains a mystery, but several witnesses
say it was there all the same.
The Present Epidemic.
a..
Star Actress Ladies and gentlemen, I
never disappoint my friends. Now, Antony,
get over in your corner and we'll start the
oireuj. jruat.
AFTER CHIEF JOSEPH.
A Running Fight Across the Conti
nent With the Shoshones. '
JOSEPH'S SPLENDID STEATEGI
And Bis Escape Down Clark's Fork of the
Yellowstone.
METANDCONQUREDBIGENEEALHILES
CWBITOK POB THE PISPATCB.1
Sherman's "March to the Sea" was the
dramatic and picturesque episode of our
great war. Tho admirably organized and
disciplined army, complete in its commissa
riat and transportation and unencumbered
with "deadwood" of any kind, cnt loose
from Atlanta and tramped through theheart
of the Confederacy to Savannah, meeting
hardly any opposition that its advance
guard could not easily brush away. In pro
portion to numbers engaged and obstacles
to be surmounted, an Indian chief, Joseph
by name, simply triple discounted this bril
liant exploit of our brave and brilliant gen
eral, and despite pursuing forces, despite
incessant efforts to head him Off, despite five
times his number? in fighting foemen, despite
the fact that he was burdened with all the
women and children of bis tribe, this cool
headed yet daring Indian general, this mod
ern Moses, led his people through the wil
derness from the eastern border of Washing
ton Territory, through the prairies of Idaho,
up the valley of the Salmon river, across
the Bitter Boot Mountains, through Mon
tana to the Yellowstone Park, down Clark's
Fork, across the Yellowstone, then straight
way northward for the British possessions,
and, not until within a day's march of the
Big Missouri not until two days more
would have landed him safely across the
line, was he finally hemmed in and cap
tured; by which time just about half the
cavalry and one-fourth of the infantry of
the United States army were in the field
engaged in the chase. Sherman's storied
march to the sea was completed in 250 miles
with little to hinder. Chief Joseph's rush
across the continent carried him some,760
miles by the way he bad to tro. and it was
fight or dodge every inch of the route.
QUElMNG BIOTS..
At the outbreak of the war, we of the Fifth
Cavalry were stationed on the Union Pacific
Bailway headquarters, and six troops (com
panies) at Fort D. A. Bussell, just west of
Cheyenne, the others at Fort McPherson
down in the valley, and at Sidney Barracks
midway. Early in the season General Crook
had sent five of the six troops from Fort
Bussell to establish a camp of observation
way up along the northeastern foothills of
the Big Horn range, where he fought the
Sioux the previous summer, and we had
only the band and Captain Payne's troop
(F) to "hold the fort" at Bussell. Similar
ly, all the troops from McPherson and Sid
ney, except a mere postguard. were in the
field, scouting toward the Sioux reservations,
when -the great railway riot of '77 burst
upon thei land. Pittsburg was in flames,
the militia overpowered. Chicago was in
the hands of the mob and the police ex
hausted. Then came the order for the reg
ulars, and all the Fifth Cavalry within
reaching distance of the railway were hur
ried in. TheMcPherson battalion rodelike
mad for the nearest station; left their horses
with the quartermaster and a small
gnard, and were whirled through to Lafce
Michigan by special train. The Ninth In-
laniry started nrst trom Umaha, but the
strikers "side-tracked" them somewhere, and
the first command to reach Chicago was this
tough-looking battalion of troopers from the
plains; bearded, bronzed, dusty, destitute of
anything like glitter or gold lace; dressed in
their rough scouting rig, flannel shirts,
buckskin or canvas, re-inforced breeches,
and old slouch hats, out Chicago gave them
a welcome they have never forgotten.
"These fellers ain't got no bouquets in their
muskets" was the remark of a newsboy that
made the troopers grin. And while the
regulars in Nebraska were hurried to Chi
cago, those along the railway in Wyoming
and Utah were similarly hurried to Omaha,
and our colonel, General Wesley Merritt,
was assigned the command at this latter
point. Here we guarded the big bridge
across the Missouri and kept order from
July 26 until the 9th of August, when we
were sent back to onr stations, the trouble
being over.
OBDEBEO TO THE FBONT.
Meantime General Crook had got in from
a scout through the extreme northwestern
section of his department, and the very day
we started for home Gibbon, with his little'
command, was having its death grapple
with the Indians at Big Hole Pass. The
next thing we heard was that Chief Joseph
was across the mountain, coming east. Still
the War Department hesitated. Still it was
believed that despite all his ill-luck so far
Howard with his big force must overhaul
the wily Nez Perce. But day after day
crept by; every dispatch showed the Indian
still ahead, and at last it became suddenly
apparent to the powers at Washington that
he was almost at the Yellowstone Park, and
meant to cross the mountains. Once over,
there were just three ways for him to escape:
nortneastward, oy way oi uiarK's Jbark;
eastward by the Stinking river to the Big
Horn, or southeastward through the Wind
Biver Valley.
The Seventh Cavalry, already out along
the Yellowstone, was ordered to block the
first gap. Hart's Battalion, of the Fifth
Cavalry, already up on the Big Horn
range at the headquarters of the Tongue
river, was ordered to march in the Custer
oattlefield of the previous year, where some
sioux and Cheyenne scouts would join-
!.... U .... T ..-- 1? 1. 1 It.- Cf.IT-
ing Biver Valley, until they reached its
head, and to stop the second hole, while
General Merritt, at Bussell, received tele
graphic orders to go at once to Camp Brown
(now Fort Washakie), in the Wind Biver
Valley, and organize a force to meet Chief
Joseph, should he come that way. All the
Third and Fifth Cavalry near the railway
were hustled aboard the cars and shipped to
Green Biver station, whither the General
and I, his Adjutant, hastened by first train,
reached there the morning of the 30th of
August, jumped on a buckboard, drove
northward all that day, that night, and the
next day, reaching Camp Brown at 4:30 p.
M. The cavalry followed by forced
marches.
, WHERE IS JOSEPH?
General Crook soon arrived, and on the
9th of September, with seven fine troops of
veteran cavalry and 35 picked Shoshone
scants, away we went, still northward, un
der orders to reach the head water of the
Stinking river and tackle Joseph if we
could possibly find him. It was cer
tain he was coming southeast, and General
Crook, who had not been consulted, ap
parently, in the orders coming from his su
periors shook his head over the plan.
"You won't be apt to find him," he said,
"he will be over and away long before you
can get there, and he is making for the
British possessions or I'm mistaken."
Never have I seen anything in wild
beauty to match the magnificent mountain
country through which we marched day
after day. We climbed and crossed the Owl
Creek Mountains on the 12th of September
a wonderful experience. Then came range
after range, valley after valley the Meeye
ro, the. Beaver, the Gray Buil, the Mee
teetse; all clear running streams from the
towering Shoshone peaks on our left. We
lugged our wagons along until the 14th, but
they hampered us so that Merritt could
stand it no longer, and we left them. We
ran into a blinding snowstorm on ths 15th,
and I, "topogging," as usual, out on the
flanks, lost all sight or trail of the regiment
until, catching a view of some four-footed,
objects a few yards ahead, I trotted un
hesitatingly among them, never dis
covering until my horse almost turned
a back, 'somersault in his fright,,
tnai'swe naa autea 'law me huok
of a herd of buffalo. Then It cleared as
suddenly as it stormed, leaving the face of
nature six Inches deep in powdery white
with our column crawling like a black
snake over the divide to the nextvalley.and
finally, after a rapid 25-mile march on the
morning of the 17th, throngh an atmosphere
clear as a bell and a sweep of scenery sim
ply superb, we reached the forks of the
Stinking river, and struck a recent and
heavy cavalry trail. Sturgis or Hart?
Seventh or Fifth? that was the question.
At 3 P. si. the General had his command
bivouacked between the beautiful streams,
the north and south branches of the river
with the infelicitous name. Cedar Mount
ain loomed right to the east of us. Pure as
snow, clear as crystal, the waters plunge
into and under it on the western side and
reissue on the other, slimy, yellow and
thick, and smelling like sheoL It would
seem as though they had plunged through
sulphuretted hydrogen.
A IXXKG BIDE.
And now came the longest ride of my
life.
,It was necessary that the General should
know at once whether the Indians had
passed or were coming this way. It was
necessary that he should know at once
whether Sturgis or Hart had made these
trails and whither the makers had gone.
"Take any Lieutenant in the regiment you
choose, and what scouts you need, and find
out," were his brief orders to me, and, after
a cup of steaming coffeeand a hearty lunch,
mounting ny spare horse who had been led
along during our 25-mile jog of the morning,
at 4-30, rode out northward with seven com
panions, six Shoshone Indians on their airy
ponies and my "statesman," Lieutenant
Bishop. I had chosen him because he was
ail muscle and sinew a man who never
tired, and who could stand all night's work
if need be and be just as ready lor a chase
on the morrow.
We rode light-burdened, with nothing but
our arms and ammunition, and at sunset we
were loping up up up following a wind
ing trail leading to the summit of the lofty
crest beyond which lay the valley of Clark's
Fork. It was the old Bannock trail, said
one of our Shoshones. To our right was the
long narrow range that at its southeastern
end is called Cedar Mountain. To our left
the main divide between us and Yellow
stone Lake the backbone of the continent
Ahead of us the bold range connecting the
two. We had ridden miles along that twist
ing, tortuous trail and still could sot say
whether 'twas made by the Seventh or Fifth.
That they had gone in eager haste was evi
dent. We passed horseshoes, we picked uj
abandoned lariats, a saddle blanket, two
canteens, but oddly enough there was no
distinguishing mark. At last, under the
rays of the full moon, I found the evidence
I wanted. Generally the trail was that of
a double file of horses following in each
other's track.
FOOLED BY THE INDIAIf.
Here and there were places, though,
where in crossing the brook, or ascending
or descending deep places, each troop leader
(company commander) had chosen a separ
ate path for his men. We had passed sev
eral where four and five separate trails were
made, but Hart had five troops and that
proved 'nothing. Far up in the narrowing
gorge we came upon a grassy ridge they
hacTcIambered across and here were seven
distinct trails of troons in columns of twos.
It was the Seventh Cavalry and they had
unquestionably crossed the rangs to Clark's
Fork. So much was settled. Back Mown
the Bannock trail we cantered the full
moon high in the heavens now and turn
ing westward when we reached the broad,
beautiful valley of the north fork we rode in
wide, dispersed order scouting it for miles
toward Yellowstone Lake, tnding game
trails innumerable but not a trace of lodce
pole, pony hoof or Indian property, and at
last, at 11 P. 31., I gave the word to rein
about and made for camp a glorions gallop
oyer springing turf through silvery moon
light that made the valley bright as day.
At midnight we were challenged bv our
sentries after our 45-mile jaunt, and at day
break, changing horses once more, Bisbon
and I, with five of our six Shoshones, were
off again. Twentymiles we trotted around
Cedar Mountain to the fords of the Stinking
river, 15 miles further up the highlands to
the;north we went back on the Sturgis trail,
nearly running over a magnificent'elk as we
rounded a sudden turn, and then my field
glasses detect a dust clond miles away down
in the valley. Thither we gallop, and in an
hour, waving our hats, we ride full tilt into
the halted column of Hart's battalion.
Twenty-five miles we lead them back around
the mountain to Merrift's camp, reaching
there at 6 p. Ji., in time for supper, having
been in saddle 29 hours out of 36, and ridden
nearly 140 miles. Where was Joseph? Oh!
He had dodged past Sturgis ten days before
we got there, and wag far beyond the Yel
lowstone. Charles Kmp, U. S. A.
THE'THEOSOPHISTS' CREED.
A Belief as Old as the World, Which Is
Rapidly Gaining Ground.
Chicago Inter-Ocean. 1
Theosophy is as old as history, but among
what the present is pleased to call the
civilized people of the earth it never gained
a foothold, being confined chiefly to the
Orient, Even there it has during the past
few centuries slumbered, and, strangely
enough, it was left to two persons of very
different sex, race, creed and characteristics
to revive it in its old home and to propagate
it in other natious. They were a New York
Tribune reporter and a widowed Bussian
Countess, H. L. Olcott and Mme. H. P.
Blavotsky. The former is now President of
the Central Branch of the Theosophists of
the World, and the latter the General Sec
ure tary.
t While Count Blavotsky was alive he and
the Countess sojourned for a while at one
time during their travels at Adyaa, Madras,
India. There the Countess became greatly
interested in th e religious records of the
country, and devoted considerable time to
their study. Beturning to Bussia, her hus
band died" and she was given a pension oT
f5,000 per annum. This, together with the
Income from her private possessions, she
spent in travel. One evening she found
herself being introduced to a Tribune re
porter, Mr. H. L. Olcott, at a soiree lit
eraire in New York City. The conversa
tion turned on India. Olcott had devel
oped much time to the subject of the In
dian religions and theosophy, and their
mutual knowledge led to mutual regard for
one another. They struck a partnership-, as
it were, and derided to travel to India to
study the subject on the ground and revive
theosophy.
But the Countess was still a subject of the
Czar of all the Bussias, and if she should
go to India as such the English would re
fuse her residence there on the ground that
she was a spy. To surmount this obstacle
the Countess refused her claim upon the
pension of $5,000 and became a naturalized
American. The reporter and the Countess
then.journeyed to India and fulfilled their
object of extending their theosophical
knowledge and ot reviving the tenets of 1
theosophy. Tbis was about 15 years ago,
and since that time the new faith, if it may
b'e so denominated, has had a wonderluL
growth. The society has 125 different
ranches in India, as many in Europe and
aiuiuai. as ju;iuy iu tue umeccub vibin
America. Chicago has two.
of
At a Disadvantage.
Stage Carpenter (to Moss. Comestwisto,
the contortionist V-You navs me that-dollar
you borrowed, or you dea't ge qverl Fuck,, I
LOOK AT T0UE HANDS?
r
And See in the lines Yonr Character
and Tour Likelihood of
SUCCESS Iff I0YE AND MARRIAGE.
A Professor of Palmistry Speaks of ths
Wonders of His irt
A MAH'S EAHD THE IBDEI OP HIS SOUL
rWBITTXN IOB TBX PISFATCH.l
A prominent expounder of palmistry, ia
explaining the methods of his art to a DIS
PATCH reporter yesterday, said:
"The reason we are able to discern many
hidden truths from the simple inspection of
the subject's hand, is, briefly, in this way:
We know from having observed the char
acteristics of innumerable people that per
sons with this or that hand have such and;,
such characteristics. Certain occupation-,
produce certain lines in the hand, and ws
can most always tell the person's occupation '
from the character of his hand. Knowing .
his occupation, it is not very difficult to tell
his characteristics.
"The lines of life and accident are fixed,'
and the predictions which we are able to
make from an inspection of them are almost,
invariably fulfilled. There is a certain line,
in the hand which tells me that the subject
has recently passed through a serious diffi
culty of some kind. You remember when
Kate Claxton came so sear losing her life in
the Park Theater fire in Brooklyn a num
ber of years ago. Well, I was in St. Louis,
at the time and was an enthusiast in palmis
try. I traveled all the way to New York
to'see whether that line indicating difficnl-
ties had developed in her hand. I inspected
her palm, and there was the line as plaia a
day.
"Here is another instance. In my youth
the line of life indicated that I would die at
about the age of 36. I had looked forward
to the time with some dread, and when it
came sure enough I was laid low with a se
rious illness. The doctors gave me up and
were about to arrange for my funeral, but
my will dominated the disease. I simply
said to myself : 'Here, it isn't time for you.
to die yet awhile. Your business is in bad ,
shape and you can't leave your family in
this way. You must recover.' And recover
I did.
THE LIUE OF MAEEIAGE.
"The lines of marriage are less distinct
than those of accident and death, but, nev
ertheless, we can tell pretty accurately
whether a man is to be married at all and
if so how often. A man of domestic, affec
tionate and impressionable characteristics
will in all probability tate unto himself a
wife. More wives die and are divorced than
husbands, therefore it is pretty safe to say
that this impressionable man will marry
twice. There is the man who has the
Shylock hand. It is easy enough to tell
that he will attempt to gather great riches.
Then there is the man with the fat, pudgy
hand. He's generous. The man with long,
taper fingers is likely to be an artist
and to have ths artist's characteristics. A.
man with short fingers and round hand is
more of the sensual order. And so on with
the other kinds of hands.
"You may smile when I tell you, but it is
a fact, nevertheless, that it is the most in
telligent class of people who have the great
est faith in palmistry. Yon can't satisfy as,
ignorant person by telling him what his ca
pabilities are or what special line of useful
ness he can pursue with the beit prospect of
success. He wants to know everything of
his past and future, and if you cas't tell
him he is dissatisfied. On the other hand
an intelligent person knows that the art of
palmistry does not pretend to go as sir as
that and ia satisfied with the simple charac
ter reading. It is curious, but trnexthat
nothing ismorer.4nteresting to the average
man or woman than hearing about himself.
That's what brings most of my visitors here.
They have their own opinions ot their char
acteristics but like to have them confirmed!
by an expert. I do sot say that a man is a
poet, a musician, an artist, an orator or an
artisan because his hand presents certain
features, lines or mounts, but being of a
certain character and in possession of cer
tain powers his hands reveal the character.
The soul is the reel man, and the body is
simply its material manifestation. The
body exists and subsists trom the spirit, for
its use and changes naturally solely in obe
dience to the power and direction of the
spirit. It can be changed mechanically by
outside forces, but it can be developed only
bv the spiritual and vital force working
within it.
THE SOUL'S ETDEX.
"The soul i3 constantly developing the
fleshly body. Every lineament and pecu
liarity not the result of some objective op
position or injuring accident is the result of
the character and development of the inner
man. Every human being is constantly in
carnating desires, thoughts and acts in his
own body. The hand is the immediate
servant of the will. It is the index to the
man himself.
"But to return to hands and what they
reveal. The palm of the hand shows physical
strength, endurance, activity, or their oppo
sites. It is also a health bulletin. It shows
also the appetites and inclinations. The
lower part, next to the wrist, indicates ani
mal strength and instincts when sromi.
nently developed, the middle of the hand'
the power of the brain and nerves, ana the
upper port the force and character of the
emotions.
"Large hands belong to those that work.
A man with such a hand executes his plans,
acts out his impulses and materializes his
thoughts. Hei is complete in the perform-r
ance of his work. Small hands indicate'
magnitude ot plans, grace in execution,, and
a delight in dealing with generalities- The ."
medium sized hand is the hand that will do
the thing best-. James B. Eads, the origina
tor of the great St. Louis bridge, had very
small hands, as has also Jay Gould. Tho
hard hand indicates persistency in effort
and endurance in physical exertion. The
sinewy handexpressesrapid,skillful activity,
and so on."
A CONTRACT HE C0DLD PI1L.
A Scotchman Telia His Pastor How to Tun
on Honest Fenny.
Scottish American.!
"Hoo's a' wi' ye minister?" asked Don
ald M' Alpine of his minister, anj old
fashioned Established Church clergyman.
"Oh,brawly, Donald, brawly; but the
glebe's ho' doing well at all this year. The
tnrnips are fair rotted away, I'll need to
do something to bring in a bit o money.
Maybe get some city lad to tutor or some
thing." "Could ye no dae something in the corf
trac way, dae ye think?"
"Contract way! What dae you mean
Donald?"
"I see the Highland Bailway's advertis
ing the noo for sleetws. an I wis thinkin'-
ye had mair in the kirk than ye kent what
to dae wi', "an " "
Here the minister started in to give him'
such ajHighland railing that Donald hag'
not ueen to cnurcn since. ji
IEM0NS FOE INS0MMA.
A Clergyman Names a Simple and Effects!1
Core for Sleeplessness. 5
AshevlIIe Chronicle.: i5f
The Bey. T. S. Brown, the pastor of tlie
Lutheran Church of this city, is runaingjiT
opposition to Bishop Lyman on insoraniai
cures. Mr. Brown yesterday told a
Chronicle reporter that lemon juice diluted. z
in water and taken just before retiring, will
almost certainly produce sound aad refresh
inz sleep.
Mr. Brown also said that he fed lewsed
froa an eminent physician Oat if dilated
leaos juice were drunk after a. hvy doar
of quinine it would prevettiel'- ,
MMiSg HUHSf IB UN MM,, Mjfc&ffti ;
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