U
T"
fe
lt
18
upon her. Beatrice's reputation would be
blasted, her employment lost, and her life
made a burden to her. Yes, decidedly,
Honoria bad the best of the position; de
cidedly, also, she spoke words of weight and
common sense.
Whatwas to be done? "Was there no way
out of it? All that night as Geoflrey sat in
the House,his arms folded on his breast And
to appearance intently listening to the long
harangues of the Opposition, this question
haunted him. He argued the situation out
this way and that way, till at last he came
to a conclusion. Either he must wait for
the scandal to leak out, let Beatrice be
ruined and direct bis efforts to the softenin?
of Honoria, and generally to self-preservation,
or he must take the bull by the horns,
must abandon his great career and his
country and seek refuge in anotherland, sav
America, taking Beatrice and Effie with
him. Once the child was ont of the juris
diction, of course no court could foiceher
from him.
Ot the two courses, even in so far as he
himself was concerned, what between the
urgency of the matter and the unceasing
pressure of his passion, Geoffrey inclined to
the latter. The relations between himself
and Honoria had for years been so strained,
so totally different from those which should
exist between man and wife, that they
greatly mitigated in his mind the apparent
iniquity of such a step. Nor would he feel
much compunction at removing the child
from her mother, for there was no love lost
m between the two, and as time went on lie
shrewdly guesed there would be less and
less. For the rest he had some 17,000 in
band; he would take half and leave Honoria
half. He knew that he could always earn
& living wherever he went, and probably
much more than a living, and of whatever
he earned a strict moiety should be paid to
Honoria. But first and above everything
there was Beatrice to be considered. She
must be saved even if he ruined himself to
tave her.
Lady Honoria, it is scarcely necessary to
sav, had little idea that she was driving her
husband to such dangerous and determined
councils. She wanted to frighten Geoffrey,
not to lose him and all be meant to her; this
was the last thing that she would wish to do.
She did not greatly care about the Beatrice
incident, but her shrewd common sense told
her that it might well be used as an engine
to ruin them all. Therefore she spoke as
she did speak, though in reality matters
would have to be bad indeed before she
sought the aid of a court of law, where many
things concerning herself might come to the
light of day which she would prefer to leave
in darkness.
Nor did she stop here; she determined to
attack Geoffrey's position in another war
name'y, through Beatrice herself. For a
long time Honoria hesitated as to the method
of this attack. She had some knowledge of
the world and of character, and from what
she knew of Beatrice she came to the sound
conclusion that she was not a woman to be
threatened, but rather one to be appealed
to. So after much thought she wrote to her
thus:
"A story, "which I still hesitate to believe,
has come to me by means of anonymous let
ters as to your conduct with my husband.
I do not trish to repeat ic now, lurther than
to say that, it true, it establishes circum
stances which leave no doubt as to the exist
ence of relations so intimate between you as
to amount to guilt. It may not be true cr it
may, in which latter event I want to say
this: "With your morality I have nothing to
do; it is your affair. Nordo I wish to plead
to you as an injured wi:e or to reproach
you, for there are things too wicked for
mere reproach. But I will sav this: If
the storv is true I must presume that
vou have some affection for the part
ner of your shame. I put myself
out of the question, and in the name ot that
affection, however guilty it may be, I ask
vou to push matters no turther. To do so
will be to bring its object to utter ruin. If
you care for him, sever all connection with
him utterly and forever. Otherwise he will
live to curse and hate yon. Should you
neglect this advice, and should the .facts
that I have heard become public property,
1 warn you, as I have already warned him,
that I shall be forced, in self-preservation
and for the sake of self-respect, to appeal to
the law for my remedy. Remember that his
career is at stake, and that in losing it and
me he will also lose his child. Remember
that if this comes about it will be through
you. Do not answer this, it hill do no
good, for I shall naturally put no faith in
your protestations, but if you are in any
wav or measnre guilty of this offense, ap
pealing to you as one woman to another,
and for the sake of the man who is dear to
both, I say do your best to redeem the evil,
by making all turther communications be
tween yourself and him an impossibility.
H. B."
It was a clever letter; Lady Honoria could
not have devised one more powerful to work
on a woman like Beatrice. The same post
that took it to her took another iiom Geof
rey himself. It was long though guarded,
cud need not be quoted in its entirety, but
it put the whole position before her in
somewhat veiied language, and ended by
saying, "Marriage I cannot give you, only
lnelong love. In other circumstances to
offer this would be an insult, but it things
should be as I fear, it is worth your consid
eration. I do not say to you come, I say
come it you wish. No, Beatrice, 1 will not
put this cruel burden of decision upon you.
I say come! I do not command you to come,
because I promised to leave you unin
fluenced. But I Dray you to do so. Let us
put an end to this wretchedness, and count
the world well lost at our price of love.
tCome, dearest Beatrice to leave me no more
ill 1stVi T TlTlf mv 1lfC 11 - liflnilri ?
vou take it up, whatever trouble you may
have to face, you will never lose my affec
tion or esteem. Do not think of me; think of
1 yourself, ion nave given me your love as
r you once gave me my lile. I owe
3 something in rctnrn; I cannot see you
T shamed and make no offer of repa-
f ration. Indeed, so far as I am
v concerned, I shall think all I lose as
f nothing compared to what I gain in gaining
you. "Will you rome? If so. we will leave.
fthis country and begin alresh elsewhere.
After all, it matters little, and will matter
a less when everything is said and done. Life
, for me has hitherto been but as an unwhole-
. some dream. The one real thing, the one
happy thing, that I have found in it has
been our love. Do not let us throw it away,
i Beatrice."
I Br return of post he received this answer
U written in pencil : t,
"No, dear Geoffrey. Things must take
their course. B."
f That was all.
I CHAPTER XXV.
k ELIZABETH SHOWS HEK TEETH.
f Hard had been Beatrice's hours since that
$& pray morning of separation. She must bear
4 all the inner wretchedness of her lot; she
must conceal her grief, must suffer the
9 slings and arrows of Elizabeth's sharp
I tongue, and strive to keep Owen Davies at a
; distance.. Indeed, as the days went on, this
,. last task grew more and more portentous.
The man was quite unmanageable; his
passion, which was humiliating and hateful
' to Beatrice, became the talk of the place.
t Everybody knew of it except her father, and
i even his eyes began to be opened.
One night it was the same upon which
? Geofirey and Honoria had respectively
posted their letters to Beatrice anybody
f looking into the little room at Bryiigelly
f Cast!?, which served its owuer for all pur-
' "" poses except that of sleeping, would have
(witnessed a very strange sight. Owen
Davies was walking to and iro walking
rapidly with wild eves and disheveled hair.
At the turn of each length of the apartment
J. ' be would halt, and, throwing his arms into
y the air, ejaculate:
$ "Ob, God, hear me, and give me my de-
sire! Oh, God, answer me!"
For two long hours thus he walked and
thus cried aloud, till at length he sank pant
ing nnd exhausted in a chair. Suddenly he
missed bis head, and appeared to listen in
tently. "The Voice," he said aloud; "the Voice
again. "What doe it say? To-morrow, to
morrow I must speak; and I shall win her."
He sprang up with a shout and once more
began his wild march. '-Oh, Beatrice!" he
said, "to-morrow you will promise to marry
me; the Voice says so, and soon, soon per
haps in one short month, you will he my
own mine only! GoeBrey Bingham shall
not come between us then, for I will watch
vou day and night. You shall be my very,
very own my own beautifnl Beatrice," and
he stretched out his arms and clasped at the
empty aii a crazy and unpleasant sight to
see.
And so he walked and spoke till the dawn
was gray in the east. This occurred on the
Friday night. It was on the following
morning that Beatrice, the unfortunate and
innocent object of these amorous invoca
tions, received the two letters. She had
gone to the posloffice on her way to the
school, on the chance of there being a note
from Geoffrey. Poor woman, his letters
were the one bright thing in her life. From
motives of prudence they were written in
the usual semi-formal style, but she was
quick to read between the lines, and, more
over, they came from his dear hand.
There was the letter, sure enongh, and an
other in a woman's writing. She recognized
the hand as that of Lady Honoria, which
she had often seen on envelopes directed to
Geoffrey, and a thrill of fear shot through
her She took the letters, and, walking as
quickly as she could to the school, locked
herself in her own little room, for it was not
yet 9 o'clock, and looked at them with an
ever-gathering terror. "What was in them?
Why did Lady Honoria write to her?
Which should she read first ? In a moment
Beatrice had madeup her mind. Shewould
face the worst at once. With a set face she
opened Lady Honoria's letter, unfolded it
and read. We already know its contents.
As her mind grasped them her lips grew
ashy white, and by the time that the horri-
hie tmng was aone sne was nigo. 10 lamung.
Anonymous letters! oh, who could have
done this cruel thing? Elizabeth, it must
be Elizabeth, who saw everything, and thus
stabbed her in the back. Was it possible
that her own sister could treat her so? She
knew that Elizabeth disliked her; she could
never fathom the cause, still she knew the
fact. But if this were her doing, then she
must hate her, and hate her bitterly; and
what had she done to earn such hate? And
now Geoffrey was in danger on her account,
danger of ruin, and how conld she prevent
it? This was her first idea. Most people
might have turned to their own position and
been content to leave their lover to fight his
own battle. But Beatrice thought little of
herself. He was in danger, and how could
she protect him? Why, here in the letter
was the answer! "If you care for him, sever
all connection with him utterly, and for
ever. Otherwise he will live to curse and
hate you." No. no! Geoffrey would never
do that. But Lady Honoria was quite right.
In his interest, for his sake, she must sever
all connection with him sever it utterly
and forever. But how how?
She thrust the letter in her dress a viper
would have been a more welcome guest and
opened Geoffrey's.
It told the same tale, but offered a differ
ent solution. The tears started to her eyes
as she read his offer to take her to him for
good and all, and go away with her to begin
life afresh. It seemed a wonderful thing to
Beatrice that he should be willing to sacri
fice o much upon such a worthless altar as
her love a wonderful and most generous
thing. She pressed the senseless paper to
her heart, then kissed it again and again.
But she never thought ot yielding to this
great temptation, never for one second. He
prayed her to come, but that she would not
do while her will remained. What, she
bring Geoffrey to ruin? No, she had rather
starve in the streetsor perish by slnwtorture.
How could be ever think that she would
consent to such a scheme? Indeed, she
never would; she had brought enough
trouble on him alreadv. But ob, she blessed
him for that letter. How deeply must he
love her when he could offer to do this for
her sake!
Hark! the children were waiting; she
must go and teach. The letter, Geoffrey'
dear letter, could be answered in the after
noon. So she thrust it in her breast with
the other, but closer to her heart, and went.
That afternoon as Mr. Granger, in a
happy frame of mind for were not bis debts
paid, and had he not found a most conve
nient wav of providing against future em
barrassment was peaceably engaged in con
templating his stock over the gate of his
little farm building, he was much astonished
suddenly to discover Owen Davies at his
elbow.
"How do vou do, Mr. Davies?" he said,
"how quietly you must have come."
"Yes," answered Owen absently, "The
fact is, I have followed you because I want
to speak to you alone quite alone."
"Indeed, Mr. Davies well, I am at your
service. What is wrong acou uon t iook
very well."
"Oh, I am quite well, thank you. I never
was better; and there's nothing wrong, noth
ing at all. Everything is going to be right
now, I know that fnll surely."
"Indeed," said Mr. Granger, again look
ing at him with a puzzled air, "and what
may you want to see me about? Not but
what I am always at your service, as you
know," he added apologetically.
"This," he answered, suddenly seizing
the clergyman by the coat in a way that
made him start.
"What my coat, do you mean? It's old,
I know."
"Don't be so foolish, Mr. Granger. No.
about Beatrice."
"Oh, indeed, Mr. Davies. Nothing wrong
at the school, I hope? I think that she
does her duties to the satisfaction of the
committee, though I admit that the arith
metic" "No 1 no ! no ! It is not about the school.
I don't wish her to go to the school any
more. I love her, Mr. Granger, I love her
dearly, and I want to marry her."
The old man flushed with pleasure. Was
it possible? Did he hear aright? Owen
Davies, the richest man in that part of
Wales, wanted to marry his daughter, who
had nothing but her beauty. It must be
too good to be true!
"I am indeed flattered," he said. "It is
more than she could expect but not what
Beatrice is not very good-looking and very
clever," he added hastily, fearing lest he
was detracting from his daughter's market
value.
"Good-looking clever; she is an angel,"
murmured Owen.
"Oh, yes, of course she is," said her
father, "that is, if a woman ves, of course
and what is more, I think she's very-fond
of you. I think she is pining for you. I
have thouehtso lor a long time.
"Is she?" said Owen anxiously. "Then
all I have to say is that she takes a very
curious way ot showing it. She won't have
a word to say to me; she puts me off on every
occasion. But it will be all right now all
right now."
"Oh, there, there, Mr. Davies, maids.will
be maids until they are wives. We know
all about that," said Mr. Granger senten
tionsly. His would-be son-in-law looked as though
he knew very little about it indeed, though
the inference was sufficiently obvious.
"Mr. Granger," he said, .seizing his hand.
"I want to make Beatrice mv wife I
do.
indeed."
"Well, I did not suppose otherwise, Mr.
Davies."
"If you help me in this I will do whatever
you like as to money matters and that sort
of thing, you know. She shall have as fine
a settlement as any woman in "Wales. I
know that goes a long way with a father,
and I shall raise no difficulties."
"Very right and proper, I am sure," said
Mr. Granger, adopting a loftier tone as
he discovered the advantage? of his posi
tion. "But of course on such matters I
shall take the advice of a lawyer. I dare
say that Mr. Bingham would advise me,"
he added, "as a friend of the family, and,
besides, he wouldn't charge anything."
"Oh, no, not Mr. Bingham," answered
Owen anxiously. "I will do anything you
like, or if you like to have a lawyer I'll pay
the bill myself. But never mind about that
now. Let us settle it with Beatrice first.
Come along nt once."
"Eh, but hadn't you better arrange that
part of the business privately."
"No, no. She always snubs me when I
try to speak to her alone. You bad better
be there, and Miss Elizabeth, too, if she
likes. I won't speak to her again alone. I
will speak to her in the face of God and
man, as God directed me to do, and then it
will be all right I know it will."
Mr. Granger stared 'at him. He was a
clergyman of a very practical sort, and did
not quite see what the power above had to
THE
do with Owen Davies' matrimonial inten
tions. "Ah, well." he said, "I see what you
mean; marriages are made itf'heaven; yes,
of course. Well, it you want to get on with
the matter, I dare say that we shall find
Beatrice in."
So they walked back to the Vicarage, Mr,
Granger exultant and yet perplexed, lor it
struck him that there was something a lit
tle odd about the proceeding, and Owen
Davies in silence or muttering occasionally
to himself.
In the sitting room they found Elizabeth.
"Where is Beatrice?" asked her father.
"I dont know," she answered, and at that
moment Beatrice, pale and troubled, walked
into the room, like a lamb to the slaughter.
"Ah, Beatrice," said her father, "we
were just asking for you."
She glanced round, and, with the quick
wit of a huuted animal, instantly perceived
that some new danger threatened her.
"Indeed," she said, sinking into a chair
in an access of feebleness born of fear.
"What is it, father?"
Mr. Granger looked at Owen Davies and
then took a step toward the door. It struck
him forcibly that this scene should be pri
vate to the two persons principally con
cerned. "Don't go," said Owen Davies, excitedly.
"Don't go, either of you; what I have to say
had better be said before you both, I should
like to say it before the whole world, to cry it
from, the mountain tops."
Elizabeth glared at him fiercely glared
first at him and then at the innocent Bea
trice. Could he be going to propose to her,
then? Ah, why had she hesitated? Why
had she not told him the whole truth be
fore? But the heart of Beatrice, who cat
momentarily expecting to be publicly de
nounced, grew laintcr than ever. The wa
ters o desolation were closing in over her
soul.
Mr. Granger sat down firmly and worked
himself into the seat at his chair, as though
to secure an additional fixedness of tenure.
Elizabeth set her teeth and leaned her elbow
on the table.holding her hand so as to shade
her face. Beatrice drooped upon her seat
like a fading lily or a prisoner in the dock.
She was opposite to them,and Owen Davies,
his face alight with wild enthusiasm, stood
up and addressed them all like the counsel
for the prosecution.
"Last autumn," he began, speaking to
Mr. Granger, who might have been a judge
uncertain as to the merits of the case, "I
asked vour daughter Beatrice to marry
me." " v
Beatrice gave a sigh and collected her
scattered energies. The storm had had burst
at last, and she must face it.
'I asked her to marry me, and she told
me to wait a year. I have waited as long as
I could, but I could not wait the whole year.
I have prayed a great deal, and I find that I
must speak"."
Elizabeth made a gesture of impatience.
She was a person of strong common sense,
and this mixture of religion and eroticism
disgusted her. She also knew that the
storm had burst, and that she must face it.
"So I come to tell you that I love your
daughter Beatrice, and want to make her
my wife. I have never loved anybody else,
but I have loved her for years, and I ask
your consent."
"Very flattering, very flattering, I am
sure, especially in these bard times," said
Mr. Granger apologetically, shaking his
thin hair down over his lorehead, and then
rumpling it up again. "But you see, Mr.
Davies, you don't want to marry me" (here
Beatrice smiled iaintly) you want to
marry my daughter, so you had better ask
her direct at least I suppose so.
Elizabeth made a movemeut as though to
speak, then changed her mind and listened.
"Beatrice," said Owen Davies, "yon hear,
I ask you to marry me."
I2& be continued next Sunday.
EDWIN BOOTH'S OPINION
Of the Difference Betwoen Audiences of the
Eat nnd Weal.
"I have nowhere found," says Edwin
Booth, "more enthusiastic audiences than
in the West, and I see no special difference
between their behavior and the conduct of
Eastern theater-goers. There'has been a
good deal said about the readiness, of West
ern people to applaud some .favorite senti
ment in a play, stopping the actor in the
middle of a soliloquy even toVxpress approv
al,and I have been asked since I have been in
St. Louis if that were not intensely annoy
ing. "Well, I don't find it so. The applause
not only cheers and stimulates the actor, but
it gives him an opportunity to catch bis
breath and rest for a moment, considerations
which far more than balance the very slight
interruption of his thought. It is only per
functory applause that chills the actor. He
is perfectly willing that people should stop
a speech or the progress of an effective
scene if they are moved by the acting to
break into a demonstration of approval."
WONDERFUL SUBMARINE BOAT.
Rtpori. of the Trlnt. Tat the Goabet Far
Ahead of Any Vet.
NcwTorkSun.J
A new submarine boat called the Goubet,
after its inventor, is on trial at Cherbourg,
in France. The cuts give a fair idea of it.
It is 18 feet long and 5 feet in diameter, and
requires a crew or but two persons. As it
weighs but seven tons it can be taken
aboard vessels. The dome is airtight and
The Goubet Out of Water.
provided with peep holes of glass. Air is
kept fresh from tanks of compressed oxygen.
It is claimed for the new-boat that it can be
handled under water or upon the surface
with penect ease, twisting and turning at
lull speed under the absolute control of the
pilot That it can remain below 24 hours,
or eyen longer if necessary, without ever
having to come to the surlace, and that it
can remain motionless at any given depth
beneath the surface for anyength of time,
instead of having to keep moving constant
ly to avoid coming to the surface,
as was the case with other boats. The
Taking a View of the World.
longest time it has yet remained under
water is eight hours, and its two occupants
spent the time playing cards. Electricity
is the motive power. The dome is so small
that it will be a hard mark to hit when in
motion, and the boat can safely approach
within a comparatively short distance of a
hostile vessel with the dome above water.
When the balls from the rapid-fire, guns of
the enemy get to coming unpleasantly near,
the submarine captain can take a good aim,
sink below the water, and' shoot ahead at
full speed, until the torpedo with which the
bow is armed strikes something and goes off.
If nothing is struck, the Captain will know
that be has undershot his mark or that his
aim has been bad, and he will have to come
to the surface and take a peek at his sur
roundings before trying again.
M a n Lv-iwesw1"
PITTSBURG- DISPATCH,
EVERY-DAY DISHES.
A Paris Authority Describes Some of
the Simpler Luxuries.
SECRET OF SERVING RED CABBAGE.
French Monks Were Great Inventors of
Appetizing Morsels.
ONE OP THE TIPICAL EPICURES
rCOEKESPOSDENCB OT THE DISPATCH.!
PAEIS, April 12. France is the country
where the preparation of food for luxury
has become a fine
art. and the Culinary
Exhibition which
was held in this city
recently may be re
garded as an apothe
osis of the French
chef. But it is also
the country where the
economical prepara
tion of food for mere
existence has been
most studied and is
best understood. The masses live simply,
and the smaller squires as simply as the
bourgeoisie. La Grande cuisine is not
within the reach of everybody's purse.
In what Antonin Careme called everyday
cooking, we may discover pleasures of an
order not despised. Among the most sub
stantial and inexpensive of regales that I
know of is abattis de dinde, or turkey's
giblets, a la bourgeoise. The giblets should
be chosen fresh, fat and tender. Scald,
singe and cleanse thoroughly. Slice the
neck into three, the pinions into two, and
Tlie Artiitt at Work.
the gizzard into four pieces, carefully dis
carding the gravelbag in the latter and the
turkev's head, which is ugly. Reserve the
liver for cooking ten minutes before serving.
Put a good lump of butter, rolied in fine
flour into a stewpan, with a thin, broad
slice of bacon, then place on a large fire, and
when in full fry add the giblets, and let
the whole stew for seven or eight minutes.
Pour on gently some hot broth, add a bou
quet garni p'arsler, chervil, thyme, sage,
laurel, leeks, &c, with two onions, in each
of which a clove is inserted.
don't siak its homely gkace.
Let the whole boil a quarter of an hour or
so; then add turnips, red potatoes, four or
five slices of carrot and a small root of
celery. Do not peel your turnips, only
scrape them, as the slightest departure from
the style of preparing this fine old ragout
would mar its homely grace and natural
simplicity. That is why a small bit of
sugar is indispensable. Cook for one hour
and a half. Ten minutes before the time is
up take the liver aside and acjd it to the
rest Carefully skitn off the fat and take
out the bouquet garni. Serve on a dish,
with the giblets in the middle, the pinions
on top and the vegetables all round.
With the foregoing directions, any house
wife with the least gumption will be enabled
to prepare one of the best ordinary dishes
in the world; as her guests, to use a homely
expression, will not fail "to lick their chops
over it" to the last morsel. Beware, how
ever, of the treacherous turnip; it not ex
cellent, it is abominable.
Old diners-out are appreciative of sim
plicity, and never eat of more than half the
dishes set before them. Baron James de
Rothschild, after a long experience, came to
the conclusion that elaborate menus were a
deception. He fell bacc upon a head of
cabbage well tied up and boiled gently for
seven or eight hours in a pot-au-feu. The
vegetable so prepared, with a slice of roast
beer or mutton, was what he generally
dined upon at home, i Know nothing bet
ter than cabbage boiled in beei broth a la
Rothschild.
A FAVOItlTE WITH A KINO.
Speaking of ordinary dishes reminds me
of the fact that Louis XV. was a bon vivant
of the first quality, and ought to have been
able to set the fashion in edibles, not only
for his own age, but for a long while to
come. That he was not, in fact, equal to
this task may be easily perceived from the
example of one vegetable alone, which has
sneedily and undeservedly descended from
the high place to which he raised it into a
humble and miserable position of inferior
ity. The plant in question is the red cab
bage, which was an immense favorite with
the royal gourmet, and was more highly ap
pr'ciatedat the little suppers given to His
Majesty by Madame de Pompadour at Marly
than any other article in the bill of fare.
At the banquets at Versailles the same vege
table was allowed all its due honors, and was
usually served at the second course among
the sweets.
The taste thus encouraged soon made its
way not only among the rich families of
Paris, who affected it out of pure compli
ment to the court, but also among the
bourgeoisiewho were delighted at finding it
possible to combine fashion with economy,
and treat themselves to one of the dishes
most highly appreciated by the court at
the cost of a lew sous. The most correct
way of serving up the red cabbage was the
style known as a la d'Orleuns, nhich was
invented, as it seems, by the Princess of
Bavaria, who married the Duke of Orleans,
and who no doubt imported from her own
country much knowledge of the excellencies
of the succulent plant so nearly allied to
"saucr kraut"
A KECEIPT IN A WIXIi.
This lady managed to preserve the secret
of the recipe until her death, and the
dishes of red cabbage a la d'Orleans which
were served under any excopt her special
supervision were none of them quite genu
ine, however good might have been the imi
tation. She lelt the recipe written out it
length on a paper signed with her lull
name, and by a clause in her will declared
that she could con er no greater benefit
upon her noble friends than to bequeath to
them this famous recipe.
The pleasures of an ordinary table may be
highly increased by a judicious selection
from the cheaper "specialties" which nowa
days abound ut groceries and provision deal
ers. In France, travel by what line you
will, you are sure to come across some town
famous for something nice in the edible way.
We have the pates de canard at Amiens and
the biscuits d'Abbeville, which really de
serve the reputation they enjoy. Getting
nearer the German frontier, the confitures
of Bar-Ie-Duc and the niadeleines de Com
mercy, are by no means to be despised. At
Metz the dried frnits, the mirabelles in par
ticular, command a great sale; Troyes
is lamous for its andouillettes, and Coulom
miers is noted for its cheese. The lark pates
sold at Pithiviers and the rillettes de Tours
may not, in the opinion of some good judges,
be worth all the praise that has been be
stowed upon them, but there is no gainsay
ing the excellence of the pat de perdreau
SUNDAY, APRIL 20,
aux truffes sold at Bailee, a small wayside
place between Poitiers and Angouleme; and
so on throughout France.
TO THE FBENCn CLEBGY.
It is a remarkable fact that the epicures
of the world should be so' largely indebted
to the French clergy for the luxuries they
enjoy. Two innkeepers established at Mont
St. Michel are at daggers drawn to this day
respecting the right sort of omelet to be put
before a hungry traveler who comes their
way. One is Ridel, who holds out for the
old Gallic omelette aux 'fines herbes; while
Poulard, his rival, contends that the gen
unine article is an omelet the secret of which
has been transmitted down through ages by
the antique religious order of the place.
Such rivalry is an honor to either party. I
have tasted both dishes, and is difficult to
decide between them. Perhaps that of the
monks is the more epicurean of the two. It
is easily prepared. The whites and the
yolks of the eggs are not mixed. The whites
are well flogged up to a creamy consistency,
to obtain which much elbow grease is re
quired; the yolks are only slightly beaten.
The whole is then poured into the frying
pan and a large lump of butter put in at the
same time. After cooking for two minutes,
the result is a miracle in its way.
The monks and enres of France have, I
say, done as much for their country in the
preparation of savory delicacies as the most
renowned chefs. It has been suggested that
during the long season ot Lent these holy
men have been in the habit oi relieving their
privations by employing their ingenuity in
the inventiou of pleasant foods and drinks
in readiness for the return of the days of
feasting.
SOME OF THEIK INVENTIONS.
One of the largest oyster parks in the
country was started by the Abbe Bonnetard.
of La teste, whose system of artificial culti
vation is so successlul "filat, of the number
of oysters distributed throughout France
every year, perhaps a quarter are produced
by the Abbe. Canon Agen was the dis
coverer of the terrines of Nerac. The
rillettes of Tours are the work of a monk of
Marmoutiers. The renowned liqueurs
Chartreuse, Trappistine, Benedictine and
others betray their monastic origin n their
names, and the strangest part ot their pro
duction is that they should be the work of
the most severe and ascetic oi religious
bodies. The Elixir ot Garus is the in
vention of the Abbe Garus. The Beziers
sausages were first prepared under -the di
rection of the Prior Lamoureux.
The popular Bergougnoux sauce was first
mingled by the Abbe Bergougnoux. The
delicate Floguard cakes are the invention
of the Abbe Flognard. Even the immortal
glory ot the discover of champagne is at
tributed to a monk. To these may be added
the innumerable delicacies in bonbons, con
fectionery, and the like, which owe their
origin entirely to nuns in the French con
vents scattered throughout the land.
DREAM OF THE EPICURE.
An Englishman, at once thoughtful and
ingenious, gave himself up one day to a
strange speculation. He imagined an epi
cure, after the manner of Lord Seldon,
Baron Brisse or Grimod de la Reyniere,
placed, at 70 years of age, on the summit of
a lofty eminence, whence bis eye might em
brace at a glance all the multitudinous array
of animals and things that had served to
appease the pangs of hnnger in such a
gormand since he first had an appetite for
solid lood. The author of "Le Ventre de
Paris," Zola, would recoil at sight of such
an enormous concourse of animals and
vegetable'. In a broad plain would be seen
grazing all the oxen, calves and sheen he
had eaten; out of the waving corn whereof
his bread was made would be seen to escape
thousands of larks, quails and young part
ridges which had decked his table.
At the foot of a hill would be seen a river
and its tributary streams, which would be
all the wine, beer, tea, coffee and cordials
the septuagenarian bad drunk in his day.
In the river swim the fish that were his de
light, and on its banks swarm the ducks,
drakes and rabbits upon which his cook
daily made snch sanguinary onslaught A
huge fortification, including a triple row of
cakes, tarts and puddings, piled on numer
ous layers of watermelons. Circles the base
of the whole display; while, at regular
breaks along the whole line,' enormous bar
rels of rice, pepper, allspice and mustard
project outward like so many pieces ot ord
nance. SUCH IS THE PRICE OF LIFE.
The old gormand's eye wanders over all
the treasures of this blessed land. He smiles
with evident satisfaction at the prodigious
number of his repasts; his mouth waters at
the souvenir of so many good things. He
would fain renew the strife; his eyes dilates
and his arms extend; his every movement
seems to say: "Such is the price of life!"
Our century has made great strides in the
art of feeding. First came Grimod de la
Beyniere with his Almanack des Gour
mands, which he published for eight con
secutive years; later on, during the Restora
tion, Brillat-Savarin appeared on the scene
with his Physiologic du Gout, and, at the
same time, Careme with his own well di
gested work. The labors of Bernard and
Jules Gouffe have since upheld the tradi
tions of the French school of gastronomy.
It seems to me that the moderns, however,
have not been over prodigal in their praise
of Baron Brisse He was a typical, perhaps
a transcendant,epicure, and therefore de
serving of encomium. His corpulence was
such that the Paris cabmen denied him the
use of their vehicles. He was little ruffled
at this refusal on their part, and rather took
vanity from tbe thought that he was one of
the very few in the gay capital to whom such
a thing could happen.
FAITHFUL TO THE LAST.
The verve of Baron Brisse delighted
Monselet, although somewhat vehement and
raffish. The Baron was then at the height of
his culinary reputation, and had juit
brought out his journal, La Salle a Manger.
About that time Emile de Girardin got him
to compose the bills of fare for his daily
paper, and bis menus cot to be quite the
rage. The Baron, who had great powers of
persuasion he was ot southern stocK, lrom
Ninies or Barbentane induced his patron to
give some of those dinners he was so well
qualified to arrange. M. France, the direc
tor of the organ La Fresse, was present at
one of these convivial bouts; when he, like
the rest of the guests that evening, wore tbe
white apron and tbe white cotton cap of the
diet de cuisine. Fancy the author of Les
Questions de mon Temps in this lndicrous
accoutrement
Until his last hour Baron Brisse fought
the good fight for gastronomy. Death found
him with a fork in one hand and a pen in
the other. In tbe modest village of Chatil
lon, where he now lies digesting his life, I
propose that the following words be in
scribed on his tombstone: "Served up piping
hot!" Maueice Dancoukt,
Editor in' Chief of the Art Culinaire, or
gan of tbe Society of French Cooks.
What Mar be Expected Next.
Possibilities of the dress riie.Euffalo
Express.
4aLW
1890.
TKADE OF THE SOUTH.
Imports of $450,000,000, and Uncle
Sam Furnishes but a Ninth.
CARGOES THAT GO TO ENGLAKD.
Sailing the South Pacific on a British Com
pany's Steamship.
SPANISH GOLD BURIED IN TAB SEA
fCortnEsroNDKNCi or tots pispjltch.1
On Board the Steamer Sereno, )
South Pacific Ocean, March 3. J
You may search the world over for pleas
ant sea traveling without finding anything
more agreeable than down the western coast
of South America, where one is always sure
of fair weather, still waters and fine steam
ers. Especially is this the case during the
season of our Northern winter the summer
time in these latitudes when breeze blow
cool and invigorating even directly over the
equator, without the damp chilliness that
pierces one's marrow on the Atlantic.
Strange to say, not an American keel
ploughs the Pacific from Panama to Cape
Horn yet not altogether unaccountable
when we consider the reasons that have left
the America of the North almost without
commercial dealings with her Southern sis
ter. The short-sighted policy of the United
States Congress in refusing -to aid steamship
lines, even by payment of a moderate sum
for carrying the mails, has much to do with
it; for the venturesome capitalist who might
invest money in such an enterprise would
have to compete with the well-subsidized
companies ot Europe. At present there are
two nnei oi steamers plying cetween .Panama
and Chili one Chilian, the other English.
The latter, which is by far the best, was
projected as an American company, by
William Wheelright, of New York City.
More than 40 years ago this gentleman se
cured a "concession" for its establishment in
these waters, and then he hnrried home to
the United States, expecting to readily raise
the necessary funds for' carrying out his
plans.
SNAPPED UP BY ENGLAND.
But neither the merchant princes, capi
talists nor Congress could be induced to
offer him any sort of aid or encouragement,
and finally he took himself and his project
to England, where a wiser government
snapped at the chance of securing rich
emoluments for all time to come. Subse
quently Mr. Wheelright obtained subsidies,
also, from several of the South American
Bepublics, whose ports he enters. The
natural consequence is that tbe whole pas
s'enger traffic ot the Southern Pacific,
together with nearly all its commerce, has
passed irrevocably into British hands, whose
vessels sail every week from Panama to
Liverpool, via the Straits of Magellan. The
Chilian line sends a vessel every second
week and carries mostly local ireicht. Sev
eral smaller steamers belonging to French
and German companies, ply between various
west-coast ports; and there used to be two
lines, Spanish and Italian, but both tbe
latter have recently withdrawn their boats.
The "Pacific Steam Navigation Com
pany," which Mr. Wheelright organized, is
to-aay tne largest enterprise or its kind in
the world, owning more than 60 first-class
steamers and carrying every bit of cargo be
tween Europe and South America. For this
trade it maintains two sets of steamers,
those for the still waters between Panama
and Valparaiso being large and beautiful,
with open decks aud airy staterooms; while
those designed for the rougher passage
through the straits and across the stormy
Atlantic were especially constructed lor
heavy seas. Mr. Wheelright a(so built the
first railroad in South America-fin Chili),
and the grateful natives have very properly
honored him by a huge statue in the city of
Valparaiso.
SOME CHEAP BIDING. ,
The distance from Panama to Valparaiso
is 3,315 miles and the trip, would become a
very tedious one occupying 25 days were
it not for tbe fact that hardly half the time
is spent at sea, there being no fewer than
38 ports to be visited on the way. Through
the many years that the British company
enjoyed undisputed monopoly its charges
were enormous not less than $40 per ton
for freight, and $297 per capita passenger
rate for a distance about the same as that
between New York and Liverpool. The
Chilian line, however, has lately made com
petition so brisk that our fare for the whole
3,315 miles was less than $32 eaoh, Ameri
can gold, with no charge for extra luggage
and "stop-overs" ot indefinite length al
lowed. And we were given extraordinary
attentions and courtesies withal afternoon
tea in the captain's cabin, nice little lunches
sent up before bedtime, and everybody had
a stateroom all to himself, mother and
daughter, or husband and wife, being given
two large communicating rooms with plenty
of extra space for trunks and steamer chairs.
Tbese big English steamers are three
storied affairs, and the lower deck, into
which one is ushered from the tender, is far
from prepossessing at first sight There are
long lines of stalled sheep and cattle, most
of them to be slaughtered for food during
the voyage, and groups of shock-headed,
saddle-colored Peruvian and ChiliandccK
hands, who look as if they would like to
slaughter us. So perfectly do they person
ate one's ideas ot pirates, as gained from
opera choruses, that one momentarily ex
pects to hear them burst out into singing.
And the resemblance to well-remembered
opera scenes does not cease with these lower
regions. Ascending a ladder-like stairway
tothe main deck, you find that the "Sereno,"
and Her Majesty's ship "Pinafore," are in
many respects as alike as two peas in a pod.
There may be no Dick Deadeyes nor Little
Buttercups on board, bat the gallant cap
tain is as typical a Briton as was "never,
never sick at sea;" and on all sides one
hears a deal of self-congratulation that in
spite of all temptations to the contrary,
everybody "remains an Englishman."
A GEOGRAPHICAL PARADOX.
By the nay, those going north from
Panama must first sail due south more than
one hundred miles, in order to round the
peninsula of Aguero, which stretches forth
a long arm; slightly curved eastward, en
closing in its embrace tbe bay ot Panama.
It seems a paradoxical statement, but is
nevertheless absolutely true, that Aspiuwall,
on tbe eastern sideot the Isthmus, is in
reality farther west than Panama City on
its western coast! By consulting the map
aud getting the crook of the Isthmus well
in mind, you will see that the Panama rail
road, instead of westward-ho-ing from
Aspinwall, as its passengers fondly imagine,
runs southeast In this connection it may
be mentioned that the port ot Guayaquil,
in Ecuador," the very westernmost town in
all South America, lies almost in a direct
line south from Washington, D. C.
Panama Bay, which is 110 miles Ion? and
nearly 150 miles wide at its mouth, is
swarming with sharks, especially in the
neighborhood of the port The sailors de
light in spinning gruesome yarns in the
hearing of land-lubbers regarding persons
who have been snapped overboard from
canoes or who have lost a leg or an arm by
some act of carelessness, or have stumbled
into tbe sea in the perilous transit between
dock and tender or lrom tender to steamer,
their horrible fate being told by a Ijrief red
dening ot the surface oi the water. If vou
desire to test the likelihood of Mich a catas
trophe just toss overboard anything at hand,
from a biscuit to a gripsack, and note how
quickly a dozen pairs of wide-opened jaws
will show themselves.
COMMERCE WORTH HAVING.
To the last moment that the vessel waits
she is surrounded by a crowd of canoes and
pit-paus, bringing from shore cargoes of ba
nanas, pineapples, cocoanuts, oranges, man
goes, figs, paltas, parrots and monkeys, some
for sale on the spot to whoever will buy,
but mostly loaded below for transportation
to other ports. We have now on board
about 1,300 tons of freight, but that is con
sidered a small cargo, 2,500 tool being the
limit. It consists chiefly of cattle, wood,
metals, sugar, rice and tobacco; aid nil of it
goes to Europe, except the cattle to be eaten
on tbe way,-and a little fruit lor local ports.
A large quantity of rice will be taken on
at Callao, it being the great staple of Peru,
where the finest rice in tbe worid is grown,
a single grain being sometimes half an inch
long. There is also a lot of chaneacha
aboard, a native preparation from sugar
cane, used in the making of dulces, or
sweetmeats; and at Pisco, one of the ports of
Northern Peru, a jppod deal of the brandy
manufactured there will be loaded. The
average valuation or the cargo is about
300,000 per annum. The exports from
Chili alone are from $15,000,000 to $20,000.
GOO a year,-and Peru is but little behind
those figures.
OUR INSIGNIFICANT SHAKE.
As to imports, the Argentine Bepublic re
ceives over $1,000,000 worth per annum,
about 1 per cent of which come from the
United States. Brazil imports an avenge of
$105,000,000 wortb, to which the United
States contributes only about 8 per cent.
Taken together, the imports of all Central
and South America reach a total of at least
$450,000,000 every year, toward which vast
sum tbe United States, the nearest sister re
public, contributes less than $50,000,000.
Nor is there good reason for this lamentable
state of things, except high tariff, lack of
transit and. a few other obstacles which
might easily be removed were our legislators
less inconceivably stupid, any more than for
tbe fact that the United States merchants are
compelled to send the few goods they can
now dispose of in Brazil, etc., away around
to Havre, Hamburg and Liverpool.
We crossed the equatorial line in the
night, soon after leaving the coast of Colom
bia; and, contrary to all expectations, the
weather grew perceptiDly cooler, instead of
giving us an increase of heat The steamer
reaches Guayaquil on the evening of the
fourth day out from Panama. During most
of the time we are beyond sight of land, the
blue and placid waters of the Pacific filling
the horizon on all sides; but sometimes to
the eastward, when the mists of morning are
dispelled and the evening shadows fall, the
lolty uordilferas that form the northern
most spur of the Audean chain suddenly
sianu out lull in view, snoKe issuing lrom
the top3 of some of them, proving that we
are fast approaching the region of earth
quakes and volcanic eruptions.
APrEOACHING GUAYAQUIL.
On the morning of the third day some
thing that looks like a gigantic corpse float
ing on the water is dimly visible through a
yellow haze, which we know to be the Isla
del Muerto, or "Dead Man's Island" an
unmistakable landmark for seamen, mark
ing the entrance to the Gull of Guayaquil.
In order to make for the port of Ecuador,
our course is now sharply changed due east
ward, and, though the mainland is not dis
cernible through the fog, its proximity is
unmistakably announced by a complete
change of odors, the salty and fishy smells
of the sea being overpowered bv a mixture
of malarial dampness and the fragrance of
tropical fruits and flowers. Presently we
pass the Island of Gorgona, famous as the
site of Pizarro's desperate deed of devotion,
and the Cape oi Emeralds at the mouth of
the Guayaquil, where he .first landed, and
whence the towering summits of Cotopaxi
and Chimborazo are for the first time plain
ly seen in nil their majesty. To the left lies
Puna Island.
The Gulf of Guayaquil is very large, but
its channel is narrow and tortuous. At
times we steam dose to the low, slimy
shores, which are lined with mangrove trees,
among whose gnarled roots numbers of alli
gators and water-soakes find congenial
homes; while farther out, in the safety of
deep water, huge porpoises show their shin
ing black sides in uncouth gambols.
TREASURES BURIED IN THE SEA.
Our attention was called to a tiny island,
green as an emerald "set in the ring of the
wave," close by which a Spanish treasure
ship is said to have 'sank a century and a
half ago with several million doubloons on
board. To this" day divers occasionally
bring up golden coin, and were imormed
that the chance was open to us, as to every
body, of possessing half that submerged
wealth, the other half of all that is recov
ered to go to the Ecuadorian Government
Since "golden opportunities are rare in
these days, it.seems a pity to decline this
one, and I hasten to' mention it for the bene
fit of my'needy countrymen.
They assure us that in many places off the
coasts of Chili and Peru ship3 laden with
treasure were purposely sunk during the
war; and all the world is welcome to re
cover the money, providing only that half
is given to the Government
I should have mentioned in its proper
place that Puna Island is now the Saratoga
of Ecuador. An English gentleman, Cap
tain Chambers, owns the finest house in the
town, an immense, blue-painted structure,
circular in shape, with verandas all around,
which in the distance looks about as much
like a residence as the grand stand of a race
course.
The Guayas river empties into the gulf of
Guayaquil, and 60 miles up its nanow and
winding course is Ecuador's only "sea port"
called Santiago de Guayaquil nearly 100
miles from the ocean! And just as twilight
shades shut off the view we find ourselves
anchored opposite the port, which we will
proceed to explore. Fannie B. Ward.
WITH AS H0XUR ATTACHED.
A Mississippi Lawrer Who Admitted Gelling
Mellow Occasionally.
New York Tribune.
General Spinola made a reference in Con
gress the other day that three different Con
gressmen thought wasdirected attbem. "That
reminds me," said "Private" Allen after
ward, "of a case I bad in Mississippi. A
lawyer was on trial for drunkenness and
pleaded his own case. 'Why gentlemen of
the jury,' said he, 'a thing that is habitual
is certainly different from a thing that hap
pens sometimes. Now, at my house wo have
biscuits sometimes, but that doesn't mean
that we are in the habit of having biscuits
at our house everv day, and because I get
drunk sometimes, does not signify that I am
in the habit ot getting drunk. Why the
most distinguished lawyer in tbe State of
Mississippi gets drunk sometimes, but he is
not in tne habit of getting drunk everv
day. There's a big difference.'
"Just then an old lawyer over in the
other end of the courtroom arose, and look
ing squarely at the man who was pleading,
said: 'You are mistaken, sir: decidedly
mistaken. I get a little mellow occasional
ly, but never get drunk.
"'lam not alluding to you, General,'
said the defendant
"When the case was concluded the Gen
eral approached me," concluded Private
Allen, "and said: 'That fellow claims that
he was not alluding to me; but darn him
Allen, he was. I know he was.' " '
CATCMXG .F0XKS TC1TU HOOKS.
A Yonnc Trapper Utilize, tbe Principles of
Iiank Wnlion Wlih Sacceis.
Foxes love ground hog meat Francis
West, an inexperienced trapper of Pike
county, N. Y., discovered this one day and
proceeded to have some fun. He
took 20 feet of strong twine and tied to
one end of it a slronz, Iarze-sized pickerel
hook. This hook he baited nicely with a
small but choice piece of ground hog meat
He placed this carefully on the ground in a
hollow and hid himself behind a stump a
lew leet away, holding the other end of the
twine in his hand. The twine was covered
with dead leaves and twigs.
West waited an hour, and then saw a. big
red fellow stealing down the slope on the
other side of the hollow, trailing a splendid
brush. The fox stealthily approached the
piece of "meat by circling around it, each
circle drawing him nearer and nearer.
Finally he pounced upon it, seized it in his
mouth ocd started away with it He had
taken but a step or two wheu West gave the
line a strong jerk.
Tbe hook caught in the fox's jaw, and, in
spite of the ground and lofty tumbling he
indulged in, he couldn't tear the book loose
or break the line. West managed to tangle
the fox's legs in the twine until the animal
was as helpless as a fly in a spider's web.
He then killed the fox with a. clnb. Since
then West has captured three foxes in the
same way.
A COTTAGE TO SELL, f
Plans for a Snns Little Dwelling
That's Bound to be Popular.
THE COST ESTIMATED AT $1,888.
A Well-Anchored Frame Stands Tornadoei
Better Than Brick.
SOLID WALLS DO SOT HELD EK0TJGH
twBrms too nn DisrATcn.i
The design given herewith is one that is
almost universally popular, which is in
formation of special interest to those who
build to sell. Those also who build low
cost cottages for bome3 should bear in mind
that Dame Fortune regards them with un
usual favor. Future prosperity may impose
duties and awaken ambitions that will make
it desirable to sell the small cottages and
build more pretentions dwellings.
Following wiP be found a somewhat de
tailed description:
General Dimensions Width, 28 feet 6
inches; depth, including veranda, 50 feet 10
inches. Heights of stories First storv, 9
feet; second story, 8 feet.
Exterior Materials Foundation, brick
piers; first story, clapboards; second story
and roof, shingles.
Interior Finish Hard white plaster ceil-
'!&
Perspective.
ings; walls plastered for papering. Soft
wood floors, trim and stairs finished in hard
oil.
Colors Clapboards, lattice work in front
gable, sashes and piazza floor, light brown.
Siding below window sills in first story, ali
trim, and doors dark brown. Bnckwork,
dark red. Wall shingles dipped in buff
stain and brush-coated. Koof shingles left
natural.
Accommodations The principal rooms
First Floor Flan.
and their sizes, closets, etc., are shown by
tbe plans. No cellar.
Cost 51,888, including mantels in parlor
and library. The estimate is based on New
York prices for material and labor. In
many sections of the country the cost should
be less.
FeasibleModifications Heichtsof stories,
sizes of rooms, colors and materials may ba
changed. Cellar may be placed undsr
a part or whole of house. Veranda
may be reduced in size. A part
or all of the plumbing may
3p&dJu.
z:o$u:o
pAaJs-iM
&&&&& i,
Second Floor Flan.
be omitted. If heating apparatus be used
one chimney will suffice.
It may interest many to be advised that
frame structures, well anchored, afford the
best protection where cyclones and earth
quakes prevail. A frame house is not so
rigid as a structure of stone or brick; it will
bend a good deal before it will break.
B. W. Shoppeix.
An Elrctrlc Flntlron.
One of the latest novelties in electricity
is an electric flatiron. It consists of a
hollow flatiron, in the interior of which a
coil is placed which is heated by tbe current
passing through it The ease and comfort
derived from the use of such device, in hot
weather especially, is apparent
. RADAM'S
ICnOSE
KILLER.
Cures All Diseases.
AH sickness Is caused by disease germs, called
microbes. If you are In poor health or suffer
ing from any acute or cbronlc disease, if your
blood Is Impure, yon should read up on ths
germ theory. Oar pamphlets explaining ths
above and girlng history of the Microbe Killer
are given away or mailed free to any address.
PIttsbure Branch. 12 Liberty aye.. Boom 3.
Second Floor.
The Wm. Radam Microbe Killer Co.,
M SIXTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY.
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