)
4
18
his courage very damp. "Yon are an ani
mated microscope," he said with a forced
smile, witiing Ins perspiring forehead with
his table napkin and le.ivini .idab of the
. volk of an egg over his right eyebrow.
'You are Ecinecke the fur and a wizard!"
He had recovered his mind and his courage
by this time, although his checks were still
several shades less ruddy than usual.
'Ton will learn to appreciate me, doctor,
as I appreciate your coflee!"
With admirable composure I drained my
enp and refilled it with steaming mocha.
"I have alvravb appreciated yon, my friend,
at your full value, and this leads me to ask
if you are thoroughly prepared to continue
your investigations in the manner inaugura
ted toward uic? Have you got the murderer
yet?" he asked, holding up his fat hairy
.Land and counting off the questions on his
fingers. "Have you settled really who the
murderer is. Is it Cyril Dura'nd? Is it
Mrs. Glaye, or is it Dr. Brandt?"
He held his extended hand toward me,
smiling his broad German smile over it.
"I have mlly prepared my line of action,
as the guilty will discover," I said with
dignity.
"Good! I will wait here until you suc
ceed, if I remain here the entire winter."
The words were uttered lightly, but I in
terpreted them as he intended they should
be interpreted.
"The assurance gives me much pleasure,"
I said, imitating his drawing-room light
ness of manner, to conceal a deeper object.
"You have anything more to say, my
friend?" he asked, gravely
"I pre er to wait until you speak."
"Then you will wait lor a very long time,"
was his dry answer. "I am not paid to help
nil the wise Lecoqs on the police force;
and besides," he added, with another broad
smile, "it would be tearing the laurels from
your brow."
. "I spoke for your sake, doctor, not my
own."
"Ion are kind, my tnend, bnt yon, in
your wisdom, have an undeserved contempt
for my intellect. You are not irank with me;
I receive you in my house as a friend, and
you snspect me. Jiy life is the clearest ice;
you are welcome to look through it, but yon
will discover no flaw. But it is not amiable
on your part; you shonld have tried frank
ness first. Tell me, my friend," he said,
caressingly, "what fault do you find with
me or my actions?"
If he wished to play a part with me, I was
equal to the emergency. I immediately as
sumed a frank, simple air.
"I have no suspicion of yon, doctor, but
I b 'lieve you could give tne a good deal
more information than you have done."
"To one who suspects me, who conceals
facts from me and misinterprets my actions.
Dr. Brandt may be coaxed, but not driven.
But come, my friend. inake categorical
charges; wherein have I failed in my duties
as an honest man?"
"First, in not sharing with me the knowl
edge you have ol Mrs. Glaye and her condi
tien." "Mrs. Glayel" he repeated irritably.
"Listen, my friend." he continued impres
sively, "until within a few hours I had no
doubt of that lady's innocence. So firmly
did I believe in her that I paid her the high
est compliment in my power by offering to
marry her."
"Yon were smitten with her?" I exclaimed,
mightily tickled at the thought
"Love is yesterda's delusion and to
morrow's nightmare," he answered, calmly.
"I am too old and too wise to play the
poodle; but in all seriousness I offered her
my hand and heart, as the saying is; I
offered once, twice, thrice, and she had bad
taste enough to refuse. I was not her beau
ideal of a husband, she wanted a younger
and softer headed man. It was her right
and I was not angered. So mnch for my
personal relations with Mrs. Glaye."
He paused to sip at bis coflee, then con
tinued with increased seriousness:
"ifow lor my provisional relations: I am
asked I do not offer my services I am
asked to attend on Mrs. Glaye; all the medi
cine she has received you will find in my
prescriptions at the druggist's. 1 write my
prescription and I go away. I find her case
the most puzzling; I have never seen its like
before in ail my great experience. When
the key is discovered all is easy, and the ex
planation flashes on me this morning for the
first time. My iriend, you shall share my
discovery; Mrs. Glaye is the victim of
double consciousness."
"Double consciousness," I repeated, not
very much enlightened by the words,
"Of a double individuality, if you like it
better. Anatomically, my iriend, we have
two brains, as we have two lungs, and in
certain rare conditions each brain can per
form its functions independent of the other,
with the result of producing two individu
alities in one person. A person thus
afflicted may be one individual to-day, an
other to-morrow; a perfectly moral, virtuous
citizen on Monday, a conscienceless wretch
on Tuesday, and what they do in one con
dition they may be entirely ignorant of in
another. The phenomenon is well known
to the prolession, bnt if you wish to read up
on the subject you will find a very able ar
ticle oc it, written by your Prof" Proctor,
called 'Dual Consciousness, and a very
striking case quoted in Prof. Huxley'r essay
on 'Animal Automatism."'
"I will look up the articles and read
them, doctor."
"They will interest you, my friend. Now,
Mrs. Glare is a victim of this abnormal con
dition. Yon have seen her a calm, sedate
lady. I have seen her a veritable fiend.
As a fiend she loses a diamond ear-ring, as
a sedate lady she is unconscious of the fact,
and honestly denies it when you charge her
With it She also denies going out when
witnesses can swear to her doing so; she can
not explain the scratches on her hand, and
my friend," continued the doctor, impress
ively, "bad she committed a murder in one
condition she would be utterly unconscious
ot it in the other."
1 was amazed at this announcement, and
honestly said so.
"Kow, my Iriend, in her normal condi
tion, Mrs. Glaye may be a woman of the
strictest veracity and morality; in her ab
normal condition I know she is a reckless
liar, and that her oath is as little trust
worthy as her word. She is an irresponsible
person, and I doubt whether the law could
holJ her either on her false oaths or evil
actions. Finding her in this irresponsible
condition, 1 can now say to yon that which
at first I feared to utter. On the night of
the murder a little before I discovered the
dead body I met Mrs. Glaye. At first I
supposed she had been meeting the young
man with whom she was in love. I did not
know her condition then. On seeing mc,
with a rage for which I could not then ac
count, she rushed at mc and I received the
wound which has so aroused your solicitude.
Now, mv Iriend, you know all I know of
Mrs. Glaye."
"You think she committed the murder?"
"I think nothing; bnt if she should kill
me, you or herself, there would be no cause
for surprise."
"Bnt then Durand must be innocent"
"It is yonr duty to find out The woman
may not hare committed the particular act
in question, even if she were canable of do
ing it Your wisdom must decide in the
matter."
"Her place is in the madhouse."
"The law would not agree with you; but
that is not to the point Just now I am
only vindicating myself; it vou have fur
ther doubts of me, question me;iryou donbt
my diagnosis of the case of Mrs. Glaye,
summon your own physicians."
It was impossible to doubt bis sincerity,
hut I still had some lingering doubts which
I proceeded to resolve.
"Taking advantage of your offer, doctor,
I would like to ask why you receive a
Miss lone Grande in your house after mid
Bight?" Again I scored a hit For a moment the
doctor was staggered by the question, but he
skillfully hid bis embarrassment behind a
smiling, arch expression of countenance
that was more diabolical than attractive.
"You are indiscreet now, my friend, and
my lips are sealed. That is a personal mat
ter, a matter of feeling, of sentiment, of ten
derness." With the words, be laid his fat, hairy
hand on his breast and bowed toward me.
He now lett me to visit his patient, and,
puffing turiously at a cigar, I grappled with
the subject tor a lull hour. Granting that
all the doctor said was true and he would
not utter a statement.. which, if false, could
be easily fastened on him I could not per-I
suade myself that Durand was not the prin
cipal in the crime; and I was fortified a lit
ie later in the belief, when Policeman
Grope came up from the city bringing a
letter to me from the superintendent Let
the reader judge, for the letter was as fol
lows: "Detective Fox: The man Cyril Durand
has been found, too sick and prostrated to
be removed rom his present retreat He
will be carefully guarded. Questioned as
to the murder, he is very reticent, but in
sists that he alone is the guilty party and
alone deserves the punishment This is the
only statement ttfat we can extract from
him, but it is doubtful if he is speaking the
full truth. Continue your researches, but
be more energetic and try and reach
some solid fact, or we will be compelled to
send another officer to take your place.
You are ordered to watch the woman Glaye
with unsleeping energy and to distrust Dr.
Brandt I am persuaded that some teeling
other than jealousy is the motive for the
crime. Take all the assistance you need,
but do something for the credit of the force
now that you have the opportunity."
I give the letter litrrally with all its
sneers, envy and malignity, and am willing
that the reader should decide between a
man ol brains who knows his business and a
political usurper who kept a bar room betore
he was raised to his present position.
Enough for my purpose and vindication
that the man Durand had been discovered
aod confessed his guilt Whether the ac
cessories were Mrs. Glaye or the doctor, or
both, did not affect my argument As for
jealousy not beine the motive of the crime,
the superintendent spoke with a superin
tendent's ignorancel
With tho letter carefully tucked away in
the breast pocket ot my coat, I now decided
on a little plan that would not have shamed
the man whom I am honored by being nick
named after. The redder will catch the de
tails as I proceed in my narrative.
In the first place, I kept watch around the
hotel until I saw the doctor leave it, and
then boldly ascended the steps and asked to
see the fair lone Grande. The young lady
invited me ud to the hotel parlor and re
ceived me most graciously. Assuming an
air of great frankness and respect, I said:
"I tronble you. Miss Grande, lor the pur
pose of announcing a very happy piece of
news. From the present moment I have no
doubts of Mrs. Ulaye's innocence.
"I am very glad to hear it, and I thank
you for your kindness in announcing it"
"It is only my dnty, since I was tbecanse
of your anxiety. The man Durand has
been arrested and has confessed all."
It the superintendent had beenpresent, I
think he would have modified his opinion
of my skill, if he possessed enough brains
to understand my plan and ideasl The
young lady turned very pale, and held on
the table for support She was in love with
the man, and I intended to work on this
love.
"The news is surprising!" she said with
an effort, smiling feebly.
"Yes; he has made a clean breast of it,
and his only anxiety now is to see Mrs.
Glaye. He must be very deeply in love
with her, to think of her in his present con
dition." As I intended, I had touched her on the
weak point of woman's nature jealousy.
Her little eyebrows were knitted into a
frown.
"She thinks of him as mnch as he thinks
of her," she said, bravely veracious, yet
with a deep sigh. "His disappearance has
driven her into her old ailment"
"She will forget him when she learns that
he is a self-confessed murderer."
"I believed as you do," she answered,
deepening her frown, "but I am convinced
now it will make no difference in her infatu
ation." I'm afraid I was digging a grave between
mistress and maid, but it was in the line of
my dnty. I wanted lone to tell me all she
knew of the habits of her mistress, and for
that purpose it was necessary to harden her
heart against Mrs. Glaye.
"Durand has written a very affectionate
letter to the lady," I continued, elaborating
my fiction, "which, ol course, we opened
and read. He showers her with affectionate
words and asks her to judge of his devotion
from his actions. A strange request to make
to a lady by a murderer!"
My words hardened the little maiden's
heart, I could see that at a glance, and I
verily believe if she had her way she wonld
have liked to use her rosy nails on Mrs.
Glaye's face then and there." But her only
comment was:
"He deserves no mercy!"
"He will receive none, Miss Grande. In
the case of murder the principal cannot save
his neck by confession."
She did not answer, but stood staring down
at the reflection of her little hand in the pol
ished tible.
"Is Mrs. Glaye very ill?"
"The doctor has just seen her. and finds
her very nervous and unmanageable. But
I am neglecting my duties to her by re
maining here. Pardon me, and receive my
thanks."
I allowed her to go, knowing that the
leaven of jealousy would work, and that
when I again saw her she would yield more
readily to mv questions.
While at the hotel I took the trouble of
studying the position of Mrs. Glaye's rooms,
and of finding ont who lived in the adjoin
ing rooms. The room on the right was
vacant had been vacant for several weeks;
to the lett Mrs. Glaye's bedroom abutted
directly on the staircase. So it will be seen
that in ormation from a spying neighbor
could not be obtained. I arranged with the
clerk that I might make use of the vacant
room to the right whenever I felt so dis
posed, and then, all in furtherance of my
plan, left the hotel. I would ask the reader
to remember that hencelorward all mv
actions were the results of a prearranged
plot, and that never for a moment did I
allow impulse to swerve me from them.
I reached the doctor's cottage rather early
in the day, and I sat in the sitting room pre
tending to read a newspaper. When he re
tired to the kitchen I knew that I should not
see him again till dinner. He had no sooner
disappeared than I whipped out the spray of
goldenrod from the vase in the window and
substituted a bunch of white asters in its
place. I allowed the asters to remain a good
full hour; that was until it was too dark to
see them any more; then I took them out
and replaced the goldenrod in its usual posi
tion. What was my object? Patience, and
you will see. I passed a very enjovable
evening with the doctor. I pretended
great frankness with him; he pretended
or really was very frank with me. He dis
coursed on the subject of "donhle conscious
ness," and told me in what condition he had
found Mrs. Glaye. Just now he regarded
her as a creature of impulse, whose actions
could not be predicated from moment to
moment, although he doubted whether his
belief would be shared by others. He had
advised the landlord of the hotel to have
the woman carefully watched, and had
been laughed at for his pains, the landlord
answering that "she was more sane thau
nine-tenths of the women in the world,"
and that he was perfectly contented she
should occupy his rooms ail winter ii she
paid for them.
I listened, lying on the lounge and pre
tending to be aw.ully sleepy. I kept yawn
ing and yawning, and apologizing and
apologizing. At an early hour I went to
my room, locked the door, blew out the
light but I did not go to bed. I expected
too much entertainment to do that foolish
action. The doctor retired almost immed
iately after me; and when I heard him snor
ing, I carefully opened my door, closed and
locked it after me and then crept down
stairs and hid myself under the sofa in the
drawing room, which was inky black. My
patience was severely tried, but I did not
yield, lor I was certain ot my conclusions
and would have been willing to stake my
lire on them. After what seemed a century
ot waiting I beard strange noises outside,
then, after an interval, I heard the doctor's
door open and stockinged leet descending
the stairs. Then a figure came into the
room and cantiously opened the front door.
The moonlight gave me the opportunity of
seeing the doctor in nightcap, hastily don
ned trousers aod dressing-gown. A young
lady came into the dark room, but, thanks
to the moonlight, I recognized lone Grande.
"What has brought you here tonight?"
asked the doctor irritably in a hoarse
whisper.
You called-me; J. -saw the -asters. -and
came according to order."
THE
"But, little idiot, you are losing your
sight The golden rod has been in place for
dayi, and I changed the water just before I
weut to bed."
"But I saw the asters," she persisted:
"saw them plainly for a fnll hour, until
darkness shnt them from sight You know
I am not fond enough of coming here for
the pleasure of the thing."
"The stupid detective was in the room at
the time you mention; his early return sur
prised me, ton. It must have been one of
his idiotic tricks!"
Stupid detective! What would the good
doctor have said if be knew where the
stupid detective was hiding!
The wise doctor called me stupid, but
from my hiding place I listened unmoved
to the conversation between him and the
woman.
"I am tired of the entire business," said
the lair one, "and now that the wretched
man is arrested, vou might give me my
liberty."
"I never before needed your help so
much, my pretty one. You are brave, but
you are a .woman, and out ot my sight you
wonld spoil il my plans. Patience a little
longer, and I predict that both you and I
will profit by the delay. I will keep my
promise to the sacred letter, if you keep to
yours.
"But it is so agonizing waiting, and I am
so alraid o' some mistake."
"I have promised, and while you are true,
my life will be sacrificed be ore yours. But
yield to your fears or your sentiment, and I
will sacrifice everything without a moment's
'hesitation. You know me; you know I
keep my promises, and so leave me. I am
chilled to the bone; and the idiotic detective
shall pay for the mistake."
Despite her pleas he gently forced the girl
out ot the room into the open air, closed and
locked the door, and with muttered curses
walked upstairs. I heard him try the handle
of my bedroom door, but I had'toreseen the
action, and he was not the wiser for his cun
ning. I now crept out from my hiding place,
and for the first time discovered that I had
invaded a region sacred to sticky fly-paper;
a large square of it was lovingly sticking to
my hair and beard, and another square
stuck to the palm of my left hand. I ireed
myself from the nasty stuff, thrust the
squares under the sofa, and, waiting until I
heard the doctor's snores, crept up to my
room and to well-deserved sleep.
After breakfast I went out, as usual, to
dismiss Policeman Blind for the day. The
only item of interest he had to communi
cate was to give me a little note which
Bertha, the adopted daughter of Mrs. Glaye,
had placed in his hands during the night,
with the express orders that it should be
given to me in the morning when there
were were no spies around. The note, in
dainty handwriting and ondaintyperlumed
paper, read as follows:
"Detective Fox Sir: Could I see you at
9 o'clock on the morning on which you re
ceive this? I do not wish to be seen speak
ing to you. Perhaps I am wrong in doing
so, but I am anxious, and if you wish to see
me, ii you will direct your steps at the in
dicated hour toward the deserted house near
the pond you will find me."
Need I say that I did not keep the Toung
lady waiting? I was on the spot at the ap
pointed time, and found her pacing rest
lessly up and down the floor of the moulder
ing house, a fresh, delicate flower for such a
place.
She smiled gratefully at me and held out
a dainty gloved band to greet me.
"I am very anxious and very depressed,
Detective Fox, and I can no longer keep mv
suspicions to myself. If I am wrong, you
will lorgive me and forget what I say."
Her pretty trust in me was very attractive
and very flattering.
"Do vou doubt Miss Grande's goodness of
heart?"' I asked.
"I doubt Dr. Brandt's goodness of heart,
and, as he recommended Miss Grande to my
mother, I have the right to doubt both. I
know nothing against the woman except the
doctor's recommendation."
"You are not fond of the doctor?"
"I hate and scorn him," she said, fiercely.
"Without love, tenderness or respect he
flings himself at my mother's feet and asks
to be her husband, with no other pnrpose
than to grasp her money. He is refused; he
proposes and proposes again and is rejected.
Like the brute he is, he flies into a passion,
shakes his fist in her face and swears to be
revenged."
"You have seen him do so ?"
"I have my mother's word for it"
A very poor authority, I thought; but I
only said: "If she does not like him, why
does she employ him as her physician ?"
"She is afraid of him; she is his slave. I
believe if he ordered her to leap from the
window she would do so. She has iron bars
placed before the windows out of fear of
him; yet at his slightest tap the door is
opened. I fear him and his serpent's eyes,
and if I did not avoid his presence I believe
that I, too, would become his slave.
I had not such an exalted opinion of the
doctor's powers; but then I am not a woman,
and remembering his power over the little
lone, I mistrusted my own judgment on this
point:
"And yet your mother is capable of tak
ing care of herself," I said. "Do you know
that she gave him a dagger thrust in the
arm?"
"If it had been in his heart it would have
served him right!" answered the fiery little
maiden. "He pursues, annoys, tortures her.
And yet she will not listen to me and drive
him away."
"I feel sorry for your troubles, Miss
Glaye, but you have told me nothing that
will allow ot my interference. Perhaps,
however, vour mind will feel easier if I in
form you that the man Durand has been ar
rested, and that he coniesses that he com
mitted the murder, and alone is responsible
for it"
She stared at me in verv pretty surprise,
then vigorously shook her head.
"I do not know his object, Detective Fox,
but I feel sure he is innocent."
"One moment, if you please; he was once
paying his attention to you!"
"Never!" She answered, turning to face
me with flashing eyes.
"I got my information from the doctor."
"Can the doctor ever utter the truth? To
torture my mother and punish me for my
contempt he started the rumor, and it spread
until even Mr. Octo Morton believed the
falsehood." She flushed a trifle at the name,
then added, with a smile, "but Mr. Morton
is disabused by this time."
"It was not complimentary to you; may I
ask if yon knew the murdered woman, Ella
Constant?"
"I never saw her."
"Good. Now let ns return to the ques
tion, why do you not believe the man,
Durand, committed the murder, despite his
confession, and despite certain facts that
prove he was interested in removing the poor
girl rom his path."
"Beoause I have another theory. Detective
Fox, I believe the murder was deliberately
committed to throw suspicion on my poor
mother, and thus ruin her, and it was a re
venge worthy of the wretch whom I sus
pect" "Dr. Brandt?" I ased with a smile.
"Yes, Dr. Brandtl" she retorted unflinch
ingly. "A risky business for the sake of a little
spite," 1 said, doubtingly, to draw her out.
"Not u little spite if it accomplishes its
object."
"And that is?"
The seriousness of the little philosopher
amnsed mej
"Prevent my mother from marrying the
man she loved, and fastening the crime on
one or the other was a most effectual means
of doing so."
"But what was the object?"
"I find one in the following facts: I do
not know if you have heard of the strange
will by which if my mother marries she
comes into a very large fortune "
"Your mother was good enough to tell me
so, and added that if she died unmarried the
fortune would go to a distant relative of the
dead man."
"Did she inform you who this distant
relative is?"
"She did not"
"I will supply the deficiency. It is the
wretch, Dr. Karl Brandtl"
To be Continued A'ext Week.
The census takers have unearthed a
colored woman in Macon who claims to be ISO
rears old.
PITTSBURG- DISPATCH,
AS GOOD AS THE MEN.
Facts in Kesard to tho Employment
of Women by Uncle Sam.
PAI IN THE POSTAL SERVICE.
Photographs, Stamps and Odd Finds in
the Dead Letter Office.
MATKIMOXY IN THE DEPARTMENTS
COBEESPOKDKlfCE OF THE DISPATCH.!
Washington, July 5.
SPENT a day this week
among the ladies of the Post,
office Department. They
are the brightest of Uncle
Sam's daughters, and Post
master General Wanamaker
appreciates the valne of
woman's work. He has his
journals kept by a woman
nlorlr Anil fhia nlprlr is nn?t
III 51.600 a year, which is the
' highest salary paid to a
woman in the department.
I have made a thorough in
quiry as to tne value of
women as clerks, and I find they are fully
the equals of men. They are not so prone to
loaf as their brothers, and as one of them
said to me yesterday:
You will not find a single girl in these
offices who makes a practice of having two
hats, and leaving one on the peg when she
slips out with the other and takes an excur
sion over the city. I know of men who do
this very thing. Their chiels see that their
hats are there, and they suppose they are
busy at work in some other part of the build
ing. The women are not on sick leave any
more than the men are, and their work will
average np mlly as well.
SALARIES PAID TO WOMEN.
"There are in round numbers 80 ladies in
the Postoflice Department," she went on,
"and these receive from $720 to $1,G00 a
year. There are only about six who get
720 a year, and the average salary must be
at least 51,000. Fifty-five o us get 590 a
year, 15 receive 5100 a month, and there are
fully a dozen who g -t 51,000. These salaries
are not large in comparison with those re
ceived by the men who, in many cases, do
Bringing Dead Letters to Life.
the same work, and in Washington they do
not mean anything like riches."
"Do most of the women support them
selves, and what is their average age?"
"Three-fourths of the women here are
above 30, and we have many gray-haired
ladies among them. The gray-haired women
in many cases make the best clerks, and,
though some of them could not pass the
civil service examination, they know all
about the work and can turn out more and
better work than the school graduates who
are now coming in under the civil service
rules. We have many blooming maidens
ot 18 or 20. The most of the lady clerks
have families depending upon them, and
not a few oi them are widows. Many of
them have had fathers or huabands noted in
the history of the country, and the average
social standing of all is high."
IN THE DEAD LETTER OFriCE.
The main work of the Dead Letter Office is
done by women, and the variety of its work
is but little known to the people. The lady
I talked with is a Dead Letter Office clerk,
and, like the other ladies I met in the de
partment, she is as quick as lightning and
as bright as a dollar. One of the depart
ments relating to dead letters requires a
knowledge of the foreign languages. All
unclaimed foreign letters are sent to this
bureau, and these ladies have to read the
addresses on the envelopes, whether they be
French, German, Russian, Swedish or
Dutch. There are 15 different countries be
longing to the Postal Union, and thousands
of misdirected letters are received irom
these every week. The skill shown by
these clerks is wonderful, and they find the
right addresses of letters which are more
difficult to read than a Chinese puzzle. A
complete record is kept of every such letter
received, and any unclaimed foreign letter
which comes to the department can be
traced back to the country irom which it
was sent.
Another department of the Dead Letter
Office, of which the country knows nothing,
is devoted entirely to the taking care of and
sending back misdirected photographs.
More than 30,000 photoeraphs go astray
every year, and fully 15,000 lovers never
get the pictures which their sweethearts
send them. Photographs are returned when
Going Borne at U O'clock.
possible, but they are never destroyed, and
there is an odd million or so living dead
men boxed up in the cases ot the Postoflice
Department and stored away in the rooms
of the basement.
STAMPS THAT GO ASTRAY.
Auother department is devoted entirely to
the returning ol stamps, and more than
100,000 letters are received every year at the
Dead Letter Office containing postage
stamps. If these stamps amount to more
than 2 cents they are returned to the owner,
and if the owner cannot be found they are
never used atrain. It there is no index to
the sender the stamps are pasted on sheets,
50 stamps to the sheet, and with a brush ot
red ink one of these fair lady clerks spoils
the faces of Washington, Jefferson or Jack
son fli tnp ontw) mav hp nnrl vtiitn n Iu-m
number of these sheets have accumulated j
tfmk
FT
m
If I is 'Ji '
SUNDAY, JULY 6,
they are taken down to the basement fur
nace and committed to the flames.
Some of the letters that come to the
Dead Letter Office are the vilest of the vile.
For this reason women are not permitted to
open the dead letters and this work is all
done by men. With long sharp knives
they rapidly go through the letten cutting
them open and passing them on to the lady
clerks. They are then divided into deoart
ments. For instance, all Alabama letters
are sent to one woman and another girl has
the looking over of letters of a certain
number of cities in the great Northwest.
The knowledge of the country possessed by
these clerks surpasseth understanding, and
like the wonder ul ' lady clerks of the
Treasury, they seem to know by intuition
jnst where a "letter ought to go, and by a
sort of mind reading, to be able to carry out
the wishes of the sender.
SOME OP THE PUZZLERS.
I was shown a letter for Lizzie P. Gerard,
Lancaster, Pennsylvania. It came to the
Dead Letter Office instead of going direct
to Lizzie, because Lizzie's correspondent
Mending Mail Bags.
was evidently a college sophomore who
wanted to show that he had learned his
Greek alphabet and he addressed his lady
love in Greek. Some letters are sent with
the evident intention of puzzling the Dead
Letter clerks, and one was received last
week so written that it looked like a perfect
scrawl. The bright lady who handled it
whipped a looking glass out of her pocket
and in this it read as plain as copperplate.
The letters of tho Chinese in this country
are continually coming to the Dead Letter
Office. ,
You would think that a person sending
money in a letter would be very careful
about addressing it. Bnt this does not seem
to be the case, for list year $25,000 in cash
was found in dead letters and returned to the
owners, and nearly 51,500,000 in notes,
checks and money orders were misdirected.
In addition to this there was 512,000 worth
of money and merchandise that could not
be returned.
It was in the Postoflice Department that
the rule of allowing clerks to marry was
first permitted. Under the old spoils sys
tem it was not thought right that a family
should have more than one representative in
the Government departments at Washing- i
ton, and in the case a young lady tell in
love with the 51,200 man working at her
side, she was expected to give ud her 51,000
or more and leave the office for love in a
cottage.
GALLANT ME. VILAS.
While Mr. Vilas was Postmaster General
a young lady came to him and said she
wanted to get married to a fellow clerk, but
she did not want to lose her place. He very
gallantly replied that he saw no reason why
she shonld not do as good work for Uncle
Sam when married as single. "I am mar
ried myself," said he, "and I don't believe
that it impairs my work. If you want to
enter into the bonds of matrimony, bv all
means do so, and J. will see that you are re
tained." Postmaster General Yilas not only said
this, but he kept the maiden, and it came to
be known that other clerks might marry if
they would, and the rule is now one of the
unwritten laws of the Postoflice Depart
ment. The working hours of postoffice clerks are
from 9 a. M. to 4 P. M. and tb'ere is a half
hour or so given lor luncheon at noon. Most
of the ladies bring their lunches with them
and piece these out with a cup of hot coflee
or tea from the restaurant. In the Pension
Office, and I suppose the same holds good in
the Postoflice Department.some of the ladies
have little alcohol lamps which they place
on their desks just before lunch time and
heat some hot water with which they make
tea. A lew of the ladies go out of the de
partment tor their luncheons and the regu
lar luncheon for the half of Washington is
bought for 10 cents. We have a set ot dairy
luncheon rooms here which are different
from those of any other city. They furnish
only coffee, milk, sandwiches and pie. You
must stand up to eat your lunch.
THE STREETS AT i O'CLOCK.
The streets of Washington are always
crowded at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. At
this time the great Government departments
dismiss something like 20,000 clerks and a
stream of all sorts ot humanity pours forth
from tho cave-like entrances of the
Treasury, and these 80 Postoflice ladies
trot down the steps oi the big stone build
ing and mix with the crowds which rush
forth from the great Parthenon-like Patent
Office across the way
It you will now re-enter the great build
ing you will fiud a different class of work
going on. The scrubbers and the cleaners
have takeu it in hand, and scores of brooms
and mops are moving over the marble floors.
These women are paid by the day. There
are 60 women who do nothing but repair
mailbags, and these sew away here on heavy
canvas for 545 a month working almost
steadily Irom 8 A. M. to 4 P. M.
Each land has its own mail sacks, and the
sacks of the English are as black as a hearse.
All of the French sacks have a binding of
leather about their tops, and the German
sacks have to be patched with leather.
Miss Grundy, Jr.
TAKING IH JOE JEFPEES0H.
How a Crowd of Wondering Brltona Saw the
Actor Frrform for Nothing.
- Joe Jefferson relates in J7ie Century the
following concerning a London experience
of his: My approaching appearance was the
important dramatic event of my life. I had
been five years from America and was on my
way home, and I felt satisfied that if this
new version of "Kip Van Winkle" suc
ceeded in London my way was quite clear
when I returned to the United States.
On Sunday evening, being alone in my
lodgings, I got out .'or my own admiration
my new wig and beard, the pride ol my
heart, and which I was to use in the last
act. I could not resist trying them on for
the twentieth time, I think; so I got in front
of the glass and adjusted them to my perfect
satisfaction. I soon became ehtbused, and
began acting and posing in lront of the mir
ror. In about 20 minutes there came a
knock at the door.
"Who's lbere7" said I.
"It'ii me, if you please," said the gentle
but agitated voice of the chambermaid.
"May I come in?"
"Certainly not," I replied; for I had no
desire to be seen in my preseut make-up.
"Is there anything wrong in the room,
sir?" said she.
"Nothing at all. Go away," I replied.
"Well, sir," she continued, "there's a
policeman at the door, and he says as 'off
there's a crazy old man in your room, a
flingin' of his 'arnds about and a-goin' on
haw ul, and thereis-ii crowd of people across
the street a-blockin' up the way."
I turned toward the window, and to my
orror I found that I had forgotten to put
down thecurtain, and, as ic seemed to me,
the entire population oi xionuou was taking
iii my firt' eight,
1890.
HOPE IN THE SOUL.
Without It the Christian's Life Wonld
be Gloomy indeed.
A MOTIVE IN EARTBLT AFFAIRS
And a Great Actuating Principle in the
Domain of Eellgion.
ST. JOHN'S FEELING OP ASSURANCE
rWElTTZX FOB THB niSPATCrt.1
St. John, who said so many helpful, up
lifting and encouraging things, set down in
bis first epistle this inspiring sentence, with
which I begin, and from which I start, and
upon which, as a good, solid foundation, I
build up what I have to suggest to-day
about Hope.
That apostle, who is described as the dis
ciple whom Jesus loveJ, and who was, of
all the twelve, the most appreciative of the
spirit of his Master, said thus: "Beloved,
now are we the sons of God, and it doth not
yet appear what we shall be; but we know
that when He shall appear we shall be like
Him, for we shall see Him as He is. And
every man that hath this hope in him puri
fleth himselt even as He is pure."
Here is a description of the Christian life
gathered into a single sentence. At the
beginning, the love of God bestowing upon
us the gift of sonship. At the end, the
blessing of God, revealing Himself, and
making us even better and closer than sons,
calling us into a nearer kinship, making us
like Him. And, all thewiy between, a
blessed hope is held out. There mnst be
some ground for hope, and there must be
some purpose toward which hope is directed,
in order to have any real, availing and per
manent hope. And that is what I want to
speak about this morning about the foun
dation and about the object ot hope, for this
is what the ground and the purpose of hope
mean, leaving the rest 'or another time.
HOPE MUST HAVE POrjNDATION.
Hope must have foundation. Groundless
hope is bnt idle imagination and ends in
despair. It must have been of some such
phase of hope as this that Sir Arthur Helps
was thinking when he said in one of those
most practical and inspiring essays of his,
"the men who hope little are the men who
eo on working." The men who imagine
Tittle, who do the duty next them, instead of
fancying what tney would do it some great
and remote duty were given them, they in
deed are the men who go on working.
False hope hinders work but not true
hope. And the men who have little hope,
little genuine and worthy hope, are just the
men who will not and cannot go on work-'
ing long.
That is a very solemn truth, which is get
ting tested and verified in these days. More
and more there is growing up about us a
whole class of men without hope. Whether
or not the statements of the Socialists
be true, whether or not the reason for
poverty is progress, he at least is right
who warns us that "it is a laboring class
without hope of improvement for themselves
or their children which will first test onr
institutions." The men who have a well
grounded hope, who can look forward con
fidently toward something better, and who
realize that that something better can he at
tained only through work, are the men who
not only go on working, but work best.
IT APPLIES TO RELIGION.
This is as true in the spiritual world as it
is in the social or the business world. It
applies as much to him who looks forward
toward a heavenly hope as to him who an
ticipates the winning of the goal of an earth
ly ambition. Imagine our spiritual future
to be blotted out, no life beyond, no God, no
hope, and from such a point of view con
template the work of the Christian life. We
hardly realize how large a part hope has to
plav in the Christian life until we imagine
it withdrawn.
Bead in the letters of St. Paul how hope
sustained him in the manifold trials of his
lite. "It is true," he said, "I suffer this
and that, nevertheless I am not ashamed,
for I know whom I have believed, and am
persuaded that He is able to keep that which
I have committed to Him against that day."
Hope bore him up. "That day" was ever in
his sight. "It we be dead with Him, we
shall also live with Him. If we suffer, we
shall also reign with Him." "Hence. orth is
laid up for me a crown of life, which the
Uord, the righteous judge, shall give me in
that day, and not to me only, but unto all
them that love His appearing."
There wis, yuu rememner, an ancient
philosopher who cried, "Give me but a
place to plant my lever, and I will move
the globe." Hope is a good lever. It will
remove all obstacles; it will accomplish all
tasks. But it must be well grounded.
Ground it upon the Word ol God; that was
where another and still greater philosopher
planted it, who said; "1 have a good hope
because oi Thy word." Take that word of
St. John with which he began: "Beloved,
now are we the sous ot God." Here is a
good ground for hope.
Even now are we the children oi God.
God, who has given for us His own Son.
Snail He not with Him Ireely give us all
things? God, who has so loved us as to call
us His own children ''Behold whatmanner
of love the Father hath bestowed upon us
that we should be called the sons of Godl
do not His latherhood and His love assure
us of blessings beyond onr imagination?
NOT A HARD TASK MASTER.
We are the Sons o God. That is what the
Christian religion teaches. Our sips are
offenses against a Father not against a hard
tak master, who is ever watching the race
with anxious and angry eyes to spy out our
transgressions and to measure out our pun
ishments, but against our Father, who loves
each one ol us, who is grieved at our offenses,
who sorrows over our shortcomings, who asks
.or our love in return, who would have us
behave toward Him lovingly, truthmlly,
and obediently as children, who desires the
salvation and happiness now and torever of
every one of us. Gud is our Father. That is
the ground of our hope.
Hope must have an object. We must not
only have a reason for being hopeiul, but we
must have something dehuite to hope for.
This is the other part of a good hope, and
here again, we have a good hope because of
God's word.
Here is another sentence ont ot the decla
ration of St. John. "It doth not yet an
ear," he begins to say, "what weshall'be."
et us set that down as the end of profitable
speculation. We know not vet, nor can we
know the blessings of the iuture. We can
frame no adequate conception of the condi
tioLS under which lite will go on afterdealh.
Eye hath tiot seen, nor ear heard, neither
hath entered into the heart oi man the bless
ing uh'cli God has prepared tor those who
love Him. All the descriptions of the other
world the pearly gates, the golden streets,
the many mausious, the white robes, the
crowns and palms none of these are
realities. They are only symbols. They
shadow forth in a faint way lor our imper
fect understanding, the glory and the joy
ot the beatific vision and of the near and
abiding presence. In such words God
speaks to us, as He must needs speak, as we
to children. We could not understand if
He were to tell us. The words out of which
the sentences oi revelation should be con
structed are not in onr dictionaries. Human
speech stammers when it undertakes to
voice the mystery of "bur blessed hope. "It
doth not yi-t appear."
THE OBJECT Of CHRISTIAN HOPE.
But here is something which does appear.
Here is a truth which we know. People
say sometimes that we know nothing about
the other world, and that in the presence of
that undiscovered country silence is fittest.
That is true, and not true. Here, at all
events, is something which St. John
knew: "We know that when He
shall appear we shall be like Him, tor
we shall see Him as He is." This is the
object of hope. Toward this, through ail
the wanderings of our earthly pilgrimage,
we may look forward. The sight ol Him,
and the entire transformation of ourselves
into His image this we hope for. To see
Him whom our soul lovetb, to- behold Him
who, for our sake, gave up His life, to hear
His gracious words, to be with Hira, nay
more, lo be like Him what happiness un
speakable! Here we see through a glass
darkly; we seem to lose sight of that divine
face; the thick cloud of our transgressions
hangs between us and Him; our prayers are
cold, our aspirations weak, even our fiith
seems sometimes to fail, even our Iove grows
dim, even our hope is near to losing its
hold; we see Him far away, the sins, the
troubles, the distractions oi our earthly
lives between us and Him; but there we.
we shall behold Him lace to face, we shall
look upon the King in His beauty, we shall
see Him "as He is."
Here we are, oh, so sadly unlike Him, so
zrievouslv unchristlike. stained and marred
with evil thoughts,, full of purposes half
orrued and rarely so much as half per
formed, our ideals low enough, but our
lives far below our ideals; here the struggle,
the grief of spiritual defeat, the piin oi con
quest; here no peace, unless a false peace,
which means surrender no peace beaause
we are not what we would be; but there the
struggle ended, the battle finished, peace
won.
A PICTURE OP THE TUTUHE.
We shall be like Him because we will
live every day, in that blessed life beyond,
within the radiance of His upliiting pres
ence. Somebody said to me the other day,
questioning about the future, that, in his
opinion, il all Pittsburg should be suddenly
taken up into heaven, heaven would be
very much like Pittsburg. Yes, if all the
temptation and the evil opportunity came
along with it. But suppose that all
Pittsburg is taken up into heaven and every
man and woman comes into a relation, in
finitely closer than is recognized here, with
the hero of heroes and the saint of saints,
comes really to know Christ. The railroads
are gone, the iron mills and the glass fac
tories are gone, all has passed away which
claimed so much of the time and thought of
many men that they had no space for look
ing up into God's sky, and every man,
woman and child in Pittsburg is in a place
which is penectly clean and perfectly gov
erned, where there is plenty of leisure for
thought and rest after weary days and
nights, and everybody has a chance.
Just imagine that! Would it be the same
Pittsburg after all, up there? Why, an
hour in the company of one whom we recog
nize as better than we are, uplifts everyone
ot us.
.THE TRANSFORMATION.
And what will come anew into our imper
fect and unworldly lives when we shall see
Christ "as He is?" Away pass all the
shadows which mistaken doctrines have cast
about Him, away fall the curtains behind
which skepticism and superstition alike
have hidden Him, and there is Christ, the
real, true Christ, just "as He is." O course
we will grow "like Him." Who could help
it?
See how in the heart oi that disciple
whose words we are studying hope has
chanced into assurance. We do not read,
"we hope that when He shall appear we shall
be like Him, lor we hope we shall see Him
as he is." And yet in a moment he calls
this a hope "every man that hath this
hope in him." But the word here is one oi
certainty "We know." Even as St. Paul
had said before, "I know whom I have be
lieved." That is what we need, this translation of
hope into assurance. We need to put hope
into love's furnace, so that all dross being
purged out of it, it may come forth bright
and clear to be named knowledge. We
want more and more of that spirit which
shall make uj able to say as we loos: for
ward toward the celestial country, not "I
hope," but "I know."
George Hodges.
LOCUSTS AND I0CTJST BIBDS.
Systematic Warfare Wnced on Destructive
Inaect in Cjprus-
Beoently a Parliamentary paper was is
sued giving the report of Mr. James Cun
ningham, Superintendent of Public Works
in Cyprui, on the loenst campaign in that
island last year. Since 1883 systematic war
has been waged against these destructive
insects, an average of about 1,500 per
sons having been employed in that work
alone each year at an annual cost varying
from 3,000 to 5,000. In Cyprus, as well
as in Algeria, the locusts have no natural
enemy to contend with beyond man, but in
South A rica the numbers are kept under
in a variety o: ways. Many of the species
are eaten by the human natives,
while dogs, jackals, monkeys, pigs
and fowls prey on them. But the
most destructive enemy of the Airican lo
cust is the great locust bird Cinconia alba.
This bird breeds in the interior ot Africa,
and like the lesser locust birds, al
ways builds its nest in the neighbor
hood of large swarms of young locusts,
by which foresight they secure plenty of
food lor their young, as the locusts remain
a good while near the spot where they are
hatched preparatory to going on their march.
The great locust bird is all white in color
except the wings, which are black, and the
bill and legs, which are red. Its body is
about four leet long, its wings two feet, and
its tail one foot.
The lesser loenst bird, or wattled starling
Delopus carunculatus somewhat resem
bles the common swift in size, color and
flight. Unlike the great locust bird", which
attack the insects on foot, they always take
the locusts on the wing. They may be seen
keeping un a rapid and continuous
flight, darting backwards and forwards
among the dense swarm of flying
locusts, apparently enjoying the excitement
oi the chase, while the success of their at
tack is indicated by perfect showers of de
scending legs and wings. Occasionally the
two kinds of birds attack a swarm together,
the small ones in the air and the large ones
on the ground, and between the two
very few locusts escape. Though both birds
build near where the young locusts will ap
pear when hatched, they sometimes, owing
to lateness of season, miscalculate the time,
so that the locusts are able to get away be
fore the young birds are large enough to
leave the nests and follow. In snch a case
the parent birds follow the locusts, and
return to their brood as lone as possible, hut
it 'requently happens that the young locusts
get too far away, when the old birds, acting
on the law of self-preservation, are forced to
abandon their callow offspring, and follow
their retreating food supplies.
TTBH WAGES WITH A PEIHCS.
A Fnmouii Soobrclto of Vienna Wln Prince
Frnnz von Ijicliiensteln's Money.
PaUilallBadset.
Fraulein Ilka Palmay, the famous sou
brette of the "An der Wien" Theater, a
handsome blonde woman, whose features
are familiar to trader and noble alike in
the Austrian capital, has won a large sum
of money and a breakfast from Prince Franz
von Lichtenstein ia a most amusing man
ner. The Prince was chaffing her the other
night, and told her that she could never dis
guise her identity from the Viennese. She
at once exclaimed that she was willing to
make a wager that she would sell vegeta
bles for a whole morning in one of the pub
lic markets without being recognized, al
though she would not put on any disguise
beyond the ordinary attire 6f a small
farmer's wife.
The Prince accepted the bet, but was so
certain that the actress wonld lose that be
insisted on laving her 1.000 florins against a
pairoi riding'boots. The bet was duly de
cided on Friday morning. Shortly alter 2
A. M. Fraulein Palmay appeared behind a
stall in the. "Am Ho " market-loaded with
all sorts of green stnffand spring vegetables.
She was attired in a calico skirt, woolen
shawl and wore wooden shoes. Until the
sun was high in the heavens she did a roar
ing tradr, making the best o bargains, and
returning the chuffof the market men with
out anybody suspecting that sne was other
than what she pretended to be. Finally,
the Prince and two oi his companions, who
were lounging round disguised as peasants,
declared himself satisfied, and to the aston
ishment ot the rest ot the market the
stranger greenswomau and the three men
jumped into a splendid carriage and drove
away.
THE FIRESIDE SPHINX
k Collection of Enioiatical Nnts for
Hois Crafting.
Addreu communications for tM department
to E. R. CHADBOURN. LewUton, Maint.
1111 A QUOTATION ILLUSTRATED.
Copyright. 1890. bjE.lt. Chadboubx.
BOLOX,
1112 ENIGMA.
I may not be a horrid vice.
And yet my ways are never nice;
In every sbane in which I'm seen
I mnst confe-s I ratber mean.
I may pitch forward. Jerk, or throw!
Affected utterance I may show;
In a low whining voice I speak.
And when I teem a Christian meek
It is a bypocritic art,
I've no religion iu my heart.
The talk of Gipsies I describe.
As well as of 'he tbieTish tribe.
Ye who wonld be considered mil,
Eewara of me In every gnise.
NzLSONIAJT.
1113 TRANSPOSITION.
He who boldly shapes bis first
Cannot be bv first acenrsed;
For be holds mat destiny
Never is bjflrsCs decree,
'lis a two to be admired.
When by rieht ambition fired;
Poverty or humble birth
Cannot chain a man to earth.
Bitter Sweet,
1114 numerical.
The 1, 2. 3 is to carrv on. as a contest.
The 3. 2, 1 Is not mixed or adulterated.
The 4, 5. 6 is a chamber or cottage.
The 6. 5, 4 is a whetstone.
The 7, 8. 9 is tba prevailing fashion or mode.
Tne 9, 8, 7 is a word of negation.
The whole an English writer (1810-1852).
II, C. BUBQSB.il
1115 ANAGRAM.
Like Dickens in his Little Dorrit,
I say of whole that I abhor It;
For in anv light woyiewit
It is a way bow not to do it.
Under various forms and guises
It trammels business enterprises;
With useless forms in countless numbers
The State Department ic encumbers,
And clerks it worries till the traces
Of grim despair are on their faces.
Why do commercial men employ itf
Why not cut it and destroy it?
It seems Invented for befatmg
And keeping Progress always waitings
Tis the "dear pet" ot those who ever
Seek for a way to do things never.
J. MoK,
1116 DOUBLE LETTER ENIGMA.
In Mary's Iamb, her "little pet;"
In all the "foreien" wool we t- !
In "crackman's" craft lor gettingstores;
In skilful "knack" of onenliu- doora.
In total we may see displayed
bnpenor wool of hisbest grade;
jb aiso urings to nnnu me way
A burglar may bis skill display.
NELSONIOjr.
1117 DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
Five letter words.
L Security. 2. Dialect, a A deputy or vice
roy in India. 4. Genus of plants. 5. An anno,
tator. 6. Perspicuous. 7. A country. 8. Suf
f erspain. 9. Keason or speech. 10. To cover.
II. To allow.
JPrimuls: In relation to public revenue.
finals: Disconcerted.
Connected: Bankrupt in common use.
B. O. CHzstzx.
1118 CHARADE. '
An one two not an all
The difference is not small.
The firsts' for the wood-pile.
Tramps' leisure to beguile;
Bat total is a Una
Which axlo will define.
BlTTSB SWXIT,
1119 DECAPITATION.
There is a whole in music sweet
That makes the heart with rapture beat,
And fills the soul with joy complete.
There is a whole in beauty's grace.
In loveliness of form and face
Where virtue's image we can trace.
When in a calm, reflective mood.
With self-communing thongnts imbued,
There is a whole in solitude.
There's last in acts that bad men do.
There's last in pleasures some pur.ue.
There's last in vice of every hue.
NelsosixK.
1120 NUMERICAL.
Those who have never taken oil
Can't 7 to 10 tne least idea
Of the sensations that befall
Ere consciousness again is clear.
AT. 4. d, 3, balmy air
Seems to envelop consciousness.
And dreamy joys, and visions fair.
The willing victim first do bless.
AtfirstI BotS. 2, soon the scene
Is changed to horrors D-inte might
Have viewed with an abashed mien.
And counted those he saw delight.
To fall from heights; to bang in space:
To freeze, to burn; and wake to know
That one's front teeth have left their place.
This is what taking all may show.
A. L.
yOR JULY WINNING.
For Inly three prizes are offered each a
handsome book tbac will be certain to gladden
the heart of the winner. These prizes will be
awarded the senders of the best three lots of
answers to "The Fireside Sphinx" published
dnring the month. The solutions must be for
warded in weekly installments, and as small
liats rometimes win. no would-be competitor
should withhold bis results on account of thttr
incompleteness.
ANSWERS.
1101 You are fall of fancies. (U R foil el
fans E's.)
llttt Advise to posers.
ins ieaves.
11W
K D
a s
H
II E
B.
1105 Chuck-hole.
1100 Noble womn.
NoD-cur)lew.e-man.
11U7 L A-SDlre. 2. Con-spire.
4. In-spire. 5. Ke-spire.
1108 Cosmical, comical.
1109 Bloom, loom.
1110 Crown, crow.
e. .rer-spira.
TWO REMABgABT.T: TWIHS.
Tfio Similarity Extends Even to tbe Number
nnd grx or Tlaoir Children.
Pall Mall Budget
There are two young artisans of Bristol,
named Johuson, who are twins, and between
whom the similarity is far more remarkable
than in Shakespeare's two Drotnios even.
Not only are they of the same height and
weight, having the same colored hair, eyes
and comnlexion, identical physical meaure-
ments. and feeding, walking, running, lau?h
ing crying, singing and speaking alike, but
they are of the same occupation, hold tbe
same position, and have the same religious '.
persmsion and likes and dislikes. More
singular still, they have espoused very
similar wives, and they have the same num- i
ber ot children, who are of the same sexes,
three girls and three boys each.
He Is netting Tbore.
Detroit free Press.
A colored man in South Carolina watched
a white man's bee-hive pretty close and one .
day when there, were signs of a swarminir.''
be !e-t his old mnle with a bundle ot hay on,,
bis back in the right position and the swarm t
which settled on the hay was salely walkedWl
off with and hived three miles away. tU