w $ V ir Pfc ;u- F?M- L .- Br i? 'A' 3$ti ..1 .mlh IS ad X am never tore of my grandfather, because he can believe things so easily." 6be was calmer now; and on her face there was the enrions loot: of resignation that he had noticed when first he saw her, and that seemed so strange in a young glrL "X might have expeclea this," she went on, absently and sadly. "My grandfather can persuade himself of anything; if he thinks a thing is done, that is eoouch. X am sure X hare urged him to get on with this hook not that X thought anybody could be so 'mean and cruel as to step in and forestall him but that he might get free from those obligations; but X suppose -when he had once arranged all the materials in his own Blind he felt that tho rest was easy enongh and that there was no hurry. He takes things &o lightly and now the humilia tionwell, I shall have to bear that" "I say you shall not," he said, hotly. "I claim the privilege of a friend, and you can not refuse. Who are the people to whom your grandfather is indebted over this volume?" he demanded. "For one, there is Lord Jtlusselbnrgh," she said, but indifferently, as if no hope lay that way. "And there is Mr. Carmiehael, who owns an Edinburgh paper the Cftronicfe." "Very well," said he, promptly. "What is to hinder my explaining to them that circumstances have occurred to prevent Mr. Bethune bringing out the volnme he had projected; and that he begs to return them the money they had been so kind as to ad Vance?" She shook her head again and sighed. "27b. It is very kind of you. You are talways kind. But I could not accept it. X must try some wav myself" though X am , rather helpless it is so difficult to get my grandfather to see things. X told you be fore; he lives in a world of imagination, and he can persuade himself that everything is well, no matter how we are situated. But it was shameful of them," she said, with her indignation returning, and. her lips be coming at once proud and tremulous, "to cheat an old man out of so poor and small a thing! "Why. they all knew he was going to write this book all the writers them selves they were known to himself per sonally and glad enongh they were to send him tbeir verses. Well, perhaps they are not to blame. Perhaps they may have been told that he had given up the idea that is quite likely. At all events, I don't envy the miserable creature who has gone and taken advantage of my grandfather's absence " She could say no more just then, for there was a sound below of the door being opened and shut; and the next minute they could hear old George Bethune coming with his active step up the flight of stairs, while he sang aloud, in fine bravura fashion. '"lis the march 'tis the march 'tis the march of the Cameron men!" The little dinner in the restaurant that evening was altogether unlike those that had preceded it. The simple and innocent gaiety the sense of suugness and good com radeshipappeared to have fled, leaving behind it a certain awkwardness and re straint. Tiucent Harris was entirely per plexed. The story he had heard from America was in no way to be reconciled with Maisrie's interpretation of her grand father's position; but it was possible that the old man had concealed from her certain material facts, or perhaps had been able tc blind himself to them. But what troubled the yoncg man most of all was to notice that the old look of pensive resignation had returned to Maisrie's face. For a time a brighter light had shown there; the natural animation and color pt youth had appeared in her cheeks, and her eyes had laughter in them, and smiles, and kindness and grati tude; but all that had gone now quite suddenly, as it seemed and there had come back that strange sadness, that look of un resisting and hopeless acquiescence. Alone of the little party of three George Bethune retained his usual equa nimity; nay, on this particular evening be appeared to be in especial high spirits; and in his careless and gairulous good humor he took little heed of the silence and constraint of the two .younger folk. They made all the better audience; and he could enforce and adorn his main argument with all the illustrations he conld muster; he was allowed to have everything, his own way. -i.ud perhaps Vincent, thinking of Maisrie, and her tears, and the hoplessness and soli tariness of her position, may have been in clined to resent what he could not but regard as a callous and culpable indifference. At all events, he took the first opportunity that presented itself of saying "I hope I am not the bearer of ill news. Mr. Bethune; but I have just heard from New York that someone over there has taken up your subject, and that a volume on the Scotch poets in America is just abont ready, and will be published immediately. Maisrie glanced timidly at her grand father, but there was nothing to fear on his account; he was not one to quail. "Oh, indeed, indeed," said he, with a lofty maenanimity. "Well, I hope it will be properlv and satisfactorily done; I hope it will be done in a way worthy of the sub ject. Maisrie, pass the French mustard, if you please. A grand subject; for surely these natural and simple expressions of the human heart are as deeply interesting as the more finished, the more literary, pro ductions of the professional poet A single verse rough and rugged as you like and the living man stands revealed. Av, ay; so , the book is coming out Well, I hope the public will be lenient; I .hope the public will understand that these men are not pro fessional poets, who have studied and writ ten in leisure all their lives; it is but a homely lilt they offer; but it is genuine; it is irom tne Heart and it speaks to the heart " "But, grandfather," said Maisrie, "you were to have written the book!" "What matters it who compiles the pages? that is nothing at all; that is, in a measure, mechanical. X am only anxious that it shonld be well done, with tact, and discretion, and modesty," he continued and with such obvious sincerity that Vin cent was more than ever perplexed. "For the sake of old Scotland I would willingly give my help for nothing a little guidance here and there a few biographical facts even an amended line. But after all the men must speak for themselves; and well they will speak, if the public will but remember 'hat these verses have for the most part been thought of during the busy rush of a com mercial life, and written down in a chance . evening hour. It will be a message across the sea to show that Scotland's sons have aot forgotten her. MacGregor Crerar Hueh Ainslie Evan MacColI Andrew Wanless I wonder if they have got Wanless' ad dress to the robin that was sent to him from Scotland you remember, Maisrie? There's xnair than you, my bonnie bird, Hae crossed the racinc main, "Wha mourn the blythe, the happy days, They'll never see again. Sweet bird, come sing a sang to me, Unmindf u' o' our ills; And let ns think we're ance again V 'Mang onr ain heather hills! The book will be welcomed by many a proud heartand with moist eyes, when it gets away up among the glens, to be read by 'the fireside and repeated at the plow; and I think, Maisrie, when yon and X take a walk along Prince's street in Edinburgh we may see more than one or two copies in the book seller's windows. Then X hope Blackwood will have a friendly word for it; and X am sure Mr. Carmiehael will allow me to give it a hearty greeting in the Weelly Chron icle." "But grandfather," said Maisrie, almost ' piteously, "surely vou forgetthatyou under .took to bring out this book yourse'lll" "Yes, "yes," said he with perfeciPgood humor. "But 'the best laid schenes o' mice and men, gang aft agley. And X do not grudge to some other what might have been mine I mean the association of one's name with such a band of trne and loyal Scotch men. No; I do not grudge it; on the con trary X am prepared to give the volume the most generous welcome in my power; it is not tor a brother Scot to find tault in such a ease, or to be niggard of his praise. X hope ,we are capable ot showing to the world that 'we're a' John Tbampson's bairns.'" Maisrie was growing desperate. Her " grandfather would not understand; and yet u Sow was she to speak plain with Vincent - listening to every word? And yet sbe knew iihat now he was aware of all the circum- stances; concealment was impossible; ana 'w sha forced herself to utterance. , "Grandfather," she said and her face -was flushed a rose-red, though she seemed to take no heed of her embarrassment, so earn est and imploring was her speech, "you can not forget the obligations you cut yourself under to Lord Musselburgh and Mr. Car miehael, and perhaps others. Ton under took to write the book. If that is impossible now, it is a great misfortune, but at least there is one thing yon must do; you must explain to them what has happened, and give them back the money." The old man conld no longer shelter him self behind his gay and discursive optimism; he frowned impatiently. l "I have already told yon, Maisrie." said he, in severely measured accents, "and you are grown up now, you might under stand for yourself that there are times and seasons when the introduction of business matters is uncalled for, and, in fact, unbe coming; and one of these is, surely, when we come out to spend a pleasant evening with our young friend here. X do not think it necessary that we should discuss oar busi ness affairs before him X presume he would consider snch a thing somewhat inappro priate at a dinner table." Maisrie's lips quivered; and her grand father saw it. Instantly he changed his tone. "Come, come," said he, with a cheerful good nature. "Enough, enough. X can quite comprehend how the res augusta domi may tend to give money, and questions of money, an over-prominence in the minds of women. Bnt money, and the obligations that money may place us under, are surely a very secondary affair, to one who looks at humiin nature with a larger view. I thank God," he went on, with much complacency, 'that I have never bten the slave of avarice, that even in times of great necessity X have kept subsidiary things in their proper sphere. I do not boast; our disposition is as much a matter of inheritance "as the shape of onr fingers or feet; and that disposition may do canned down without the accom panying circumstances that developed it You follow me, Mr. Harris?" "Oh, yes," said the younger man, gloom ily; that quiver of Maisrie's lips was still in his mind. "What X mean is that the use and wont of many generations," he continued, in no bly oracular fashion, "may produce in a family a certain tendency and frame of mind which can be transmitted independ ently of the creating conditions. It is a matter of common observation. You see people who we in possession of large for tunes that hive been built up by the mean and grasping persistency of their toiling and scheming ancestors, and with this great wealth they have inherited the mean and grasping instinct which produced it, and which is no longer necessary. It is only of set purpose that snch people can be gener ous that they subscribe magnificently to Mansion House funds, and give splendid entertainments, and so forth; their natural instinct is to snatch at everv xixnenr. They will outwit yon for the sake of a three penny bit; and when oncethev have made np their minds to it forgive vou a debt of a thousand pounds. Now," "the old man proceeded, with a certain proud air, "take the other frame of mind, that has been developed by an assured posi tion, sufficient wealth, and the valuing above all other things of honor and dignity and the claims and obligations of birth and blood. You perceive? You follow me? The descendant of snch a family may have inherited a scorn of the baser instincts of money getting while enjoying little enough of the fortunate circumstances that develop it in his forbears. They have bequeathed him a mental attitude without the sub stantial conditions that created it Very well; I for one, do not repine. Much rathe'r would X be a proud pauper than a peddling spirited millionaire. I hope I see things in their true light I know where I place money and the arts of money-getting and money-saving in such small scheme of the world as I .have been able to mate out for my own guidance. No, I say nothing against money; but X say, let money and all things connected with it be kept in tbeir proper place, which is altogether an inferior and subsidiary one. You do not know Mr, Harris, the writings of our Scotch poet, Dunbar the predecessor of Burns? Let me recommend them to you. Let me recom mend especially one verse which may be serviceable to you, in these days when the worship of Mammon would seem to be the only honest, as it is the most widespread, worship in the land. Dunbar says Be merry, man, and take not sair in mind The wavering of this wretched world of sorrow: To God be humble, to thy friend be kind, And with thy neighbor gladly lend and borrow; His chance to-night it may be thine to-morrow. xe ui luc ill ucarb lur any a venture. For oft with wise men it has been said aforow, "Without Gladnesse availeth no Treasure. For the first time since he had known them Vincent was glad to get away from his companions that night; the situation in which he found them and himself alike in volved was altogether so strange that he wanted time to think over it And first of all he put aside that matter of the Scotch American book as of minor importance; no doubt some kind of explanation was possi ble, if all the facts were revealed. x It was when he came to consider the position and surroundings of Maisrie Bethune that the young man grew far more seriously concerned; indeed his heart became surcharged with an ;immeasnrablt pity and longing to help. He began to understand how it was that a premature sadness and resignation was written on that pensive face, and why her eyes so rarely smiled; and he could guess at the origin of that look of hopelessness, as though she de spaired of getting her grandfather to ac knowledge the realities and tbe responsi bilities of the aotual life around him. To Vincent tha circumstances in which this young girl was placed seemed altogether tragic; and when he regarded the future that might lie before her, it was with a blank dismay. Moreover, he sow no longer sought to conceal from himself the nature of this en grossing interest in all that concerned her, this fascination and glamour that drew him toward her, this constant solicitude abont her that haunted him day and night Love had originally sprung from pity, perhaps; her loneliness had appealed to him, and her youth, and the wistful beauty of her eyes. But even now that he knew what caused his heart to leap when he heard her foot fall on tbe stairs, or when he happened to look up at the table to find her regard fixed on him, there was no wild desire for a declaration of his fond hopes and dreams. Bather he hung back as if something mys teriously sacred surrounded her. He had asked her for a flower; that was all. Proba bly she had forgotten. There seemed no place lor the pretty toyings of love-making in the life of this girl, who appeared to haVe missed tbe gaiety of childhood, and perhaps might slip on into middle-age hardly know ing what youth had been. And yet what a rose was ready to blow there he said to himselt it only sunshine, and sweet rains, and soft airs were propitious! .It was the wide, white days ot June that were wanted for her, before the weeks and tbe months went by, and darkness and the winter came. No. be did not sneak: perhaps he was vaguely aware that any abrupt disclosure on his part might startle her into maiden reserve; whereas in their present relations there existed the frankest confidence. She made no secret of the subdued and happy content she experienced in this constant companionship; her eyes lit up when he approached; oftentimes she calleVl him"Vin cent" without seeming to notice it She had given him a flower? yes, as she would have given him a handful at any or every hour of the day, if she fancied it would please him, and without ulterior thought They were almost aa boy and girl together in. this daily intercourse, this open and avowed comradeship, this easy and unrestricted familiarity. Bnt sometimes Vincent looked ahead with dim forebodings. He had not forgotten the murmur of that wide sea of separation that he had beheld as it were in a vision; the sound of it, faint, and sad, and ominous, still lingered in his ears. It was in one of these darker moments that he resolved, at whatever risk, to ac quaint old George Bethune with something of his irresolute hopes and fears. The op portunity arrived quite unexpectedly. One morning he was as usual on his way to his lodgings when, at the corner of Upper "as-i rTHE Grosvenor street, he met Mr. Bethune com ing into Park lane alone. "Maisrie is well?" Vincent asked, in sudden alarm, for it was tha rarest thing in the world to find grandfather sad grand daughter separated. "Oh, yes, yes " the old man said. "Sha has some household matters to attend to dress-making, I think. Poor lass, she has to be economical; indeed, I think she car. ries it to an extreme; but it's no use argu ing with Maisrie; I let her have her own way." "X wanted to speak to you about her," Vincent said, and he tnrned and walked with the old man across tbe street into Hyde Park. "I have often wished to speak to you and and, of course, there was no chance when she herself was present " He hesitated, catting about for a begin ning; then he pulled himself together, and Doiaiy nung nimseil into it. "I hope you won't take it for imperti nence," said he. "I don't mean it that way very different from that But you your self, sir, you may remember, you spoke to me about Maisrie when we we,re down at Henley together abont what her future might be, if anything happened to you and yon seemed concerned. Well, it is easy to understand how you should be troubled it is terrible to thick of ayoung girl like that so sensitive, too being alone in the world, and not over well provided for, as you have hinted to me. It would be so strange and unusual a position for a young girl to be in without relations without friends and having no one to advise her or protect her in any way. Of course you will say it is none of my business "Bat you would like to have it made your business," said old Georsre Bethune. with a bland and good-natured, frankness that considerably astounded his stammering companion. "My dear young friend, I know perfectly what you would, say. Do you think X have been blind to the friendly and even affectionate regard you have shown toward my granddaughter all this while, or to the pleasure sbe has enjoyed in having you take part in our small amuse' ments? Ko, I have not been blind. I have looked on and approved. It has been an added interest to our lives; between you and her I have observed the natural sym pathy of similar age; and T have been glad to see her enjoying the society of one nearer her own years. But now now, if I gueis aright, yon wish for some more definite tie." "Would it not be better?" the young man said, breathlessly. "If there were some clear understanding,- would not a great deal of the uncertainty with regard to the future be removed? You see, Mr. Bethune, I haven't spoken a word to Maisrie not a word. I have been afraid. Perhaps I have been mistaken in imagining that she might in time in lime be inclined to listen to me " He stopped; then he proceeded more slow ly and it might have been noticed that his cheek was a little paler than usual. "Yes, it may be as yoD say. Perhaps it is only that sbe likes the companionship of one of her own age. That is natural. And then she is very kind and generons; I may have been mistaken in thinking there was a possi bility of something more." He was silent now and abstracted; as he walked on he saw nothing of what was around him. "Come, come, my friend!" George Bethune exclaimed, with much benignity. "Do not vex yourself with nseless speculations; you are looking too far ahead: vou and she are both too young to burden yourselves with grave responsibilities. A boyish and girlish auaenment is a very pretty ana engaging thing; but it must not be' taken too seri ously " And here for a second a flash of resent ment fired through Vincent's heart Was it well of this old man to speak so patron izingly of Maisrie as but a child, when it was he himself who had thrust upon her more than the responsibilities and anxieties of a grown woman? "Take things as theyarel Do you con sider that you have much cause to complain, either the one or the other of you?" old George Bethune resumed, iu a still lighter strain. "You have youth and strength, good health and a constant interest in the life going on around you; is not that suffi cient? Why, here am X, nearing my three score years and ien, and everv morning that I awake I know that there lies before pie another beautiful, interesting, satisfac tory day, that I am determined to enjoy to the very utmost of my power. Look at those elm-trees at the water down there at the moving clouds; isn't it wonderful to think that in the immeasurable life of the world this should happen to be the one mo ment when these things are made visible to you?" Vincent perceived in a kind o! way what the old man meant; bnt he did not under stand why this should make him less con cerned about Maisrie's position or less wist fully covetous of winning her tender re gard. "Well, well," said old George Bethune. "perhaps it is butnatural that youth shoutd be impatient and eager to anticipate; while old age may well be content with snch small and placid comforts and enjoyments as may be met with. I should have thought there was not much to complain of in our present manner of life if you will allow me to in clude you in our tiny microcosm. It is not exciting; it is simple, and wholesome; and I hope not altogether base and gross. And as regards Maisrie, surely you and she have enough of each other's society even as matters stand. Let well alone, my young friend; let well alone; that is my advice to you. And I may say there are especial and important reasons why I shonld not wish her to be bound by any pledge. Yon know that I do not care to waste much thought on what may lie ahead of us; but still, at tbe same time, there might at any moment happen-certain things which would make a great difference in Maisrie's circumstances. Vincent had been listening in a kind of absent and hopeless way; but these few words instantly aroused his attention; perhaps this was the real reason why the old man wished Maisrie to remain free? t "A great and marvelous change indeed," he continued, with some increase of dignity in his manner and in his inoSe of speech. "A change which would affect me also, though that would be of little avail now. But as regards my granddaughter, she might be called upon tafill a position very different from that she occupies at present; and I should not wish her to be hampered by anything pertaining to her former man ner of life. Not that she would ever prove forgetful of past kindness, that is not in her nature, but in these new circumstances sbe might findherself confronted by otherduties. Enongh said, X hope, on that point And well X know," ho added, with something of a grand air, "that -in whatever sphere Maisrie Bethune maybe placed, she will act worthily of her name and of the obligations it entails." He suddenly paused. There was a poorly clad woman going by, carrying in one arm a baby, while with the other hand she, halt dragged along a small boy of 6 or 6. She did not look like a professional London beg gar, nor yet like a country tramp; bnt of her extreme wretchedness there could be no doubt; while there was a pinched look as of hunger in her cheeks. "Wait a bit! where are vou going7" old George Bethune said to her, in blunt and ready fashion. The woman turned round, startled and afraid. "I nm making for home, sir," she said, timidly. " Where's that?" he demanded. "Out by Wattord, air Abbot's Langley It is." "Where have you come from?" "From I latherhead, sir." "On foot all the way?" "Yes, indeed, sir," she said with a bit of a sigh. "And with very little food, I warrant?" said he. "Little indeed, sir.' "Haye you any money?" ' "Yes, sir a matter of a few coppers left. I gave what X had to my old mother sbe thought she was dying, and sent for me to bring the two little boys to see her but she's better, sir, and now I'm making for home again." "Oh, you gave what you had to your mother? Well," said he deliberately. T don't know whether what X have will amount to as much, b :t .whatever it is you are welcome to it" - , -i' TlTTSBTJBGr , DISPATCH, He dived into his trousers pockets' and eventually produced about half a handful of shillings and pence; then he searched a small waistcoat pocket and brought forth two sovereigns. It was all his wealth. "Here, take that, and in God's .name get yourself some food, woman I" said he, un consciously lapsing into a pronounced Beotch accent "Yon look starved. And this bit of a laddie, .here buy him some sweet things as well as hread and butter when you get up to the shops. And then when you're outside the town, you'll jnst give some honest fellow a shilling, and you'll get a cast of an emptveartto help you on your road. Well, good day to ye no, no, take what there is. I tell ve. womanl bless ye, you'll need most of it before you get to your own fireside. On your ways, nowl and when you reach the shops, don't forget the barley sugar for this young shaver." So he turned away, leaving the poor woman so overwhelmed that she had hardly a word oi thanks; and when she had gone for some little distance all he said was with something ot a rueful laugh "There' went my luncheon; for I promised Maisrie I should not return home till near dinner time." "And you have left yourself without a farming? tbe young man exclaimed. 'Well, that's all right X can lend you a few sovereigns." "No, no," said old George Bethune, with a smile, and he held up his hand in de preciation. "I am well pleased now; and if I shonld suffer any pangs of starvation during the day, I shall be glad to think that I can endure them bettor than that poor creature with the long tramp before her. To-night," said he, rubbing his palms to gether with much satisfaction, "to-night, when we meet at Mentavisti's, I shall be all tne nnngner and all the happier. Ah, must yon go now? goodby, then! We shall see you at 6:30, I suppose; and meantime, my friend, dismiss from your mind those cares and anxious thoughts ibout the future. To the gods belong the morrow!' " Now this little incident that had just hap pened in Hyde Park comforted Vincent ex ceedingly. Here was something definite that he could proudly set against the vague and unworthy suspicions of Mrs. Ellison. Sure ly tbe man was no specious impostor, no sham preacher, no crafty schemer, who could so readily empty his pockets, and look forward to a day's starvation in order to help a poor and unknown vagrant woman? No donbt it was bnt part and parcel of his habitual and courageous disregard of conse quences, his yielding to the generous im pulse of the moment; but, if the truth must be told, Master Vin was at times almost in clined to envy old George Bethune his splendid audacity and self-confidence. He had an old head on young shoulders; and it neeoea no profound reflection to tell him that life could not always consist of the Bestaurant Mentavista and La Claire Fon taine. To be Continued Next Sunday. CATTLE OK TEE SEA. Borrtble Crnelllea Which Stay Lead to a Prohibition of Shipping. A crusade is on to prevent the abuse of cattle on the ocean, says the Boston Eerald. Samnel Plimsoll, ex member of the British Parliament, a well-known humanitarian, was the anthor of the crusade, aided by his brother, Henry D. Plimsoll, who has been sent to America to interest Congress in the matter, to prepare reliable statistics as to actual losses of cattle at sea, and to secure evidence of the alleged cruelties which, as stated, had been committed on shipboard. August 13 the announcement was made that Parliament had been petitioned to prohibit the transportation of live cattle across the Atlantic after January 1, 1891. The effect of such an enactment would be a hard blow to the American export trade in live cattle, while it would greatly increase the shipment of dressed beef (in ships fitted with refrigerator apartments) of which tremendous quantities are now annually ex ported. Mr. Plimsoll, while considering the economic qnestions involved, mainly lean ui3 van ujuu iiuajuaiuiriau principals, and the arrangement he presents, with-re-spect to the inhumanities alleged to be practiced, is truly startling. On board a steamer which entered tbe Mersey in January last, from a Virginia port, CO beasts were killed durlnp a hnrri. cane which lasted four days. The manner in which these beasts met their death is shocking to contemplate. Their bulky bod ies, rolling twoand fro, were dashed against each other, tbeir horns goring whateverthey came iu contact with, until they became masses of bruised and quivering flesh, from which life at last departed when agony and exhaustion had done their cruel work. Mr. Plimsoll relates with culminating de tails the horrors resulting from overcrowd ing, prominent among which is the practice of clubbing, stabbing, etc., by attendants, to keep the animals from lying down, as once down an animal is almost surely killed by trampling. The ship's officers are powerless, as the cattle, to them, are only freight, and the attendants are responsible only to tbe snippers. FIFTY-TWO TEETH GERMS. That Is What the Delictus Little Jaw of a Baby Contains. The development of teeth germs, from in fancy to mature life, is one of the most in teresting phases of hnman growth. Pass the finger along the tiny jaw of the new comer. Not only is there nothing which presages future teeth, bnt the jaws them selves seem too delicate and frail to become tbe sockets for soch hardworking portions of the anatomy. Yet there are 52 tooth germs bidden there. Twenty of these are for the temporary teeth, with which, in due time, tbe child will begin to gnaw or chew his way through lire; tbe others include tbe Eermanent set and the molars, none of which egin to make their presence known till the child is abont 6 years old, and the "wis dom" teeth do not usually appear till abont the age of 18. The little pulp-germ grows and develops till it approximates the shape o; the tooth it is to become; then it begins to calci'y, form ing the dentine part of the crown, while the enamel is deposited by an independent pro cess. The surface of the crown attains its full size before the process of elongation com mences. Then gradually it pushes its way outward through the gum, absorbing tbe tis sue as it advances till the pure white enamel peeps out, to tbe mother's great delight The process of "teething" is invariably one of disturbance, especially if the outer membrane or skin of the gnm proves tena cious. In this case it should be lanced an operation which is humane, in that it re lieves the discomfort of the child, and is en tirely harmless, as there is seldom any hem orrhage worth the name, and if there shonld be a slight flow ot blood it readily yields to simple treatment The application of a dust of powdered alum is usually sufficient. POWEB OF BELTS. Tbe Hair Side Should Ran on tbe Poller and Air Bole Are Advisable. Wade's Fiber and Fabric. It should be the hair side of a belt next thepulley,altbough it seems at first thought, contrary to reason. Practice decides, with out exception, in favor of the hair side. Probably the reason commonly given of gaining very large contact with the surface of tbe pulley is the true one. A smaller amount of elastic air is held between tbe belt and pulley. If the belt is to slip as a condition of a test, I should say that the rougher side, that is, the flesh side, would give a greater resistance to the slipping, but no belt known to mechanics carries a greater amouut oi power than the band saw, a steel belt which plows its edge through lumber at a perfectly astonishing rate. Tbere are two ways of improving the pull or the belt (both I think patented), which support the air cushion theory. Holes are punched in, in one case the belt, in the other the pulley. These holes theoretically allow the air to between belt and pulley to escape. The result is a decided gain, al though It is evident that the plain surface of possible contact is lessened, probably the practical surface, ie.j the working surface is increased. ., :p SUNDAY,- 'AUGUST FROM A LUMP OF CLAY Stose Ornamentation of Pit tab org's More Secent Buildings. HOW THE FORMS ARE CARTED, The Example Set by tha Court Home is Saving a Good 1'ffect. SCENES MODELER'S BOOMS rwsrrzxx rox tux dism.tch.3 a ujh aragon, witn " the mythological expression of face, which is above the fourth floor of tbe Hnssey building, has an interesting history. It comes from a lump of clay, in the hands of an ingenious man with an idea in his head. And here is how the clay model is made: In one corner of the workshop of the carver in stone a workman is bending over a beau tiful ornament in plaster; tbe cap of a column for the picturesque Hostetter resi dence now being built on Fifth avenue. Be yond him is a lad working on his knees at a clay model,, and in an adjoining room a man is breaking the mold away from the plaster of paria cast that he has made. This is the carver's studio, and, though not very commodious, there is still room at the end of one of the benches for a lesson to be taken in modeling. As much clay as can be held in the hand easily is sufficient to make a "rosette." the first ornament the tyro attempts. As you dig your fingers into it a whiff comes up that is like the dead-and-gone mud Die days, and you willingly would relinquish every hope in the world to model in clay forever. The modeler only uses his fingers here, for the "rosette" is made simply and quickly. With nervous, deft movements the clay is shaped out Tbe thumb, nail down, makes good deep ruts; then with the thumb and forefinger the delicate relief is pressed out The rosette is'a sort of conventionalized four-leafed clover, and the model of it doesn't take more than five minutes to make. MAKING THE MOLD. Then the very next thing to do is to pre pare the cast A pink or salmon-colored "batter" made of plaster of paris is poured over the clay model pretty evenly, covering it all. In a few minutes this dries, after which another hatter, this time of white plaster of Paris, is poured over the hard enedpink lump. Iu another five minutes this is also dry. Then some taps loosen the mass from the board. It is now turned over, thus exposing the clay model once more. As the clay is quite soft it is easily removed from the hardened pink and white plaster, and the interior of the mold is made perfectly clean by a little soap and water. The pattern in the clay has now been transferred to the plaster. Another batter is formed of plaster of paris of the same consistency as that of which the mold was formed and poured into the mold. In 10 or 15 minutes, though sometimes it takes longer or shorter, according to the humidity of the atmosphere, the plaster is hardened, and nothing remains to be done bnt get the model out ;of its mold To watch the man Hiffffinir awav with mallot anrl nhie.l of ti huge model in the other room thoroughly explains it ail, and now is made clear the reason for using tbe pink colored composi- uuu. j.i hw, it win ue reuiemuerea, pourea over the clay model, therefore when the clay is removed and tne white plaster of pans poured in tbe pink is immediately next it forming a thin skin. The colored plaster tells at once where the mold ends and the coat begins and is a guide to the workman as he chips the mold away. EFtfECT OI THE "WEATHEB. But it has been raining all day and the damp air penetrating in from outside, the cast and the model obstinately adhere. On a clear, dry day the mold often will lift off in large pieces, but now it is slow, laborious work, every piece reluctantly breaking off, and sometimes spiteinlly refusing to do so without carrying along a piece of the model. When every part of the mold is removed the injured parts of tbe cast have new bits of the plaster grafted on which quickly fasten to the larger piece. The rosette comes to an untimely end, all through the dampness of Modeling in Clay. the day, for the cast, not being sufficiently hard when the mold was broken from it, a tap of the mallet penetrated and one of the clover leaves came off entire. Though the ten fingers of the modeler are bis most important aids in working with clay, he has a little collection of tools. Tbey are all hard wood; so beautifully finished that the material easily would be mistaken lor ivory or bone.- Some of them are per fectly straight, others curionsly carved and still others have a flatteied surface at either end. Tbey are all small, being not more than six to nine inches in. length. They are formed with due regard to the various straight lines and their combinations, which must occur in a pattern. WORKING IN STONE. For stone work is used tbe same set of tools, made in steel. Tbe application of them differs somewhat, though, and the mal let or hammer, whicb, of conrse, arejiotused in making a clay mold, come into requisi tion when the pattern is transferred to the stone. The carver in. stone always makes his model in clay and casts it in plaster before the stone is tonched. He shows the model to the architect, and if it is approved the work of reproducing it on the stone is begun. It is rare that the modeler works on tbe stone. He usually leaves that for his workmen. The carving requires only fair skill after a good model has been furnished. But some of the very handsome ornaments on bnild ings, such as the dragons I mentioned on the Hcssey block, or the ones on the Marine Bank, on Smitbfield street, the modeler himself cuts into existence. Perhaps everyone has given at least a cursory look at the German National Bank, now going up on tbe corner of Sixth avenue and Wood street Last week the carvers were at work on the ornamental caps over the windows of the sixth floor. It is rather a dlzzv height alongside the workmen, and though high, it is not an uncomfortable po sition, for tbere is a tiny awning everhead to shjeld the carter from, tbe blaze of the summer sun. The stone is always in it's place in tbe building before the carver puts a stroke to it, lor, if it were done otherwise, there would be danger of damage to, the or namental work, and of chipping those parts in prominent relief. QUIDE3 70S THE EYE. Up beside the carver is the" plaster-of 5rv IN THE si? i MiAStih, 81, 1890. paris model, some tracing paper, a lump of colored chalk and his tools. He has the pattern traced on the paper and this he transfers to the stone by cutting the paper away between the lines of the pattern and following these lines with the colored chalk on the stone. He then verifies the transferred pattern by measuring from one important point to another on the model. Then he Bnts the. chisel against tha line. 'Strikes it with the mallet, and the work is oegun. xi is slow work and the carver must keep his eye closely on the model so as to follow as much in spirit as possible the de sign of tbe modeler. Stone carving in Pittsburg buildings is of recent growth. Ten years ago there was none of it here: five or six vean turn It was introduced, wbeu tbe Court House was built Not an important building has been put up since in which stone carving has not a significant place. There is the Masonic building, on Filth avenue, with its delicate filigree work over tne win dows, and the Pittsburg National Bank of Commerce, and several other banks. The Carnegie Free Library in Allegheny, has a little carving though not so much as might be expected in a building of its pre tentions. Strange to say that revere piece of architecture, tbe Dnquesce Club Honse, has only a coudIc of caos overthe doorwav: it forms the only exception in which atone carving has not been prominent in recently erected buildings. SOME BAD EXAMPLES. Everyone has laughed at the absurdities in carving, adorning the new postoffice, from the bangled woman of fashion to the monocle-eyed-mutton-cbop-whiskered Eng lishman that are the mostatrocions examples of the pancityjof the brain that conceived them. The most of -the carved stone work in Pittsburg is by a young Italian. He makes all his models himself, and. sometimes does the carving in stone, thongh as a general Working at a Dizzy Height. thing that is left to his workmen. Almost every building in Pittsburg bears the im press of this young man's gifted hand. The few exceptions are those that were in charge oftEastern firms, which have tbeir own artists in stone, though they quite frequent ly make "copy rather than original work. Carving in stone or granite is as far as it has got in Pittsburg; no marble for bnildings is cut here. And private houses have comparatively little stone work. It so far is confined to the public buildings and business blocks of tbe city. Mabiok Cbaweobd Gaxlaheb CAFIUBIKO FOBPOISES. Exciting: Flshla Waged by the Indians la the Wnleri at Cease. Boston Herald. The harbor of Causo is not one broad sheet of water by any means, for it abounds in queer openings and channels which are rare surprises to one. There is the Tickle, which is a narrow but deep channel, mak ing down between an island and the main land. Boats use this as a safe passage to tbe sea day alter day, while for capturing porpoises it is without a rival. The whole thing is managed adroitly. A seine is stretched across one end or opening, the captives are driven in, then the remaining outlet is seined across, and immediately the march of death begins. Such proceeds in a few hours. The Indians are experts at spearing them, and to watch the fearful gyrations of one of these wounded animals with a whirling boat and a swarthy savage attached is a sight never to be forgotten. Human ingenuity and skill conquer in the end, and alter the fear ful race up and down the harbor right side up, wrong side up, matters not, so long as tbe "poppus" is held by the Indian is end ed, there are so many gallons of splendid oil for booty and a memory to last all one's life. When the mackerel and porpoise schools arrive in theharbor the whole place is in a furore of excitement If it happens on a week day, well and good; but shonld it occur to these creatures to make their annual call on the Sabbath, is is all the same. At once the churches areemptied. The sermon, hastily abridged, has to be put aside without a ben ediction oftou, and the minister is saved from writing "a'n extra." The people argue: "If we must live and the Lord sends the fish on His day, it is our duty to catch them" being a remunerative, if not exact ly orthodox belief, at which one cannot won. der." PICKING. THE v.ima A Person Should NeTer Put Anything: bat Bit Elbow In the Organ. People who are in the habit of "picking their ears" with tbe heads of pins, ear spoons, etc., frequently suffer from small abscesses in the parts irritated. These are called aural furuncles, and are not only ex ceedingly annoying, but often very painful. A wise old doctor once cautioned a patient never to put anything into his ear bnt his elbow. This is good sonnd advice, which all should follow, and if they do they will seldom if ever be troubled with tbe abscesses' in question. When one of them forms, says a writer in the Boston Herald, it is well to use the following mixture: Menthol, 15 grains; sweet oil, five drachms. .Wet a small p;ece of cotton with this and gently press it back into the passage to the ear until it lies over the abscess. Be new the application twice a day. Apropos of this, a sad case of ear trouble has recently been brought to the notice of the writer. A few weeks ago a bug crawled into the ear of a young man, causing, of course, much 'dis comfort lie sought a physician, who en deavored to remove the intruder, using in strnments wholly unsuited to the purpose. Tbe result was be tore out completely the drum membrane of the ear, and yef the bn remained behind. Then he syringed out the ear, as he should have done in the first place, and so expelled, tbe offender. The victim of this operatidn is "stone deat" on the affected side. SIMPLE WEATHEB PEOPHECT. Bow to Foretell Bain and feanililne by the Color of tbe Eky. Laning, in his "Weather Wisdom," says: A deep blue colored sky, even when seen through tbe clonds, indicates fair weather; a growing whiteness, an approaching storm. When the sky in rainy weather is tinged with sea green the rain will increase; if with deep blue it will be showery. A bright yellow sky at evening indicates rain. A pale yellow sky at evening indi cates wet weather. A. nentral gray sky at evening indicates fair weather. The same in the morning indicates wet weather. Haziness in the air, which fades the sun's light and makes the orb appear wbittish or ill-defined, or if at night tbe moon and stars grojw dim, indicates rain will follow. A CHRISTIAN'S DUtT. It is Kot to Stand 01 and Bewail Corruption in Politics. BUT TO FIGHT AT THE PRIMARY. The Preacher's 'Delicate Position Begarding Men and Issues. EIGHr0P WOMEN TO THE BALLOT IWlUITEr 101 THX DISPATCH.! What is the duty of a professing Christian in regard to matters political? Let us ad mit, for sake of argument, that the politi cal atmosphere of existing parties is im pregnated with miasma deleterious to good morals; that to a large extent parties are controlled by unscrupulous men; tnat nomi nations are made in questionable places; that whisky plays a prominent part in'these nominations; that large sums oi money are raised and used for purposes of corruntion: that men are induced to prostitute their dearly bought electoral privileges for filthy lucre; that votes are not always justly counted, and that machines control the will of the people. These and many other in dictments, suppose them to be proven, what then? Says the honest, moral, Christian man: "I don't want to touch your dirty politics. X cannot keep my self-respect and mingle with such people." My friend, you are wrong. To protect your country from foreign invasion would you not take your rifle or sword and fight with might and main? Indeed you would. And yet you will allow an invasion from the political Dick Turpin, who is so ubiquit ous that eveiy department of Government. you say, is under his control. Is this logic? Is this true patriotism? Every citizen owes it to his country to sink his personal con venience and his sentimental seclnsiveness when men are being chosen for public office. It is a matter of vast import ance what character of men sit in onr municipal, State and national legisla tures. The tremendous strides this great nation is making in numerical and material progress makes it more necessary every day that her affairs shonld be in the hands of competent men. Leaders there must be and always will be, but bossism and ring rule must be obliterated. This can never be done until more clean men take an interest in poHtics. Among the masses of corrupt politicians that curse our land there are many pure men, who manage to leaven the lump in some degree, but they need rein forcements from the ranks of conseryatiam. that conservatism which thinks that politics are too dirty for -esthetic fingers. 'Go to the Primaries. How can a foul vessel be cleansed? By allowing it to collect still more foulness, or by drenching it with pnre water? The rankest sewer can he flushed if sufficient water be sent through it The more water the more certain the purification. If the few pure men in our political system save it irom utter corruption and decay, would not an increased number still further annul that which is deleterious? Men of evil in stincts are not going to nominate exemplary persons to represent them. The pot-house politician is more likely to vote for his own kith andkin than any other. It is a sad fact that, as a rule, rogues are more clannish and stand by each other better than honest men do. Propriety is a very good thing in its way, but it sometimes becomes cantish, and I bate cant The physician who dis sects the dead body of a man who has died of some loathsome disease, does not have a pleasant job. He who removes a cancerous erowth with the knife, or performs any operation upon tbe physical parts of man does not necessarily enjoy his occupation. He does his work for the good of his fellows. He sacrifices his convenience and schools himself to un pleasant things in the search of knowledge. It may be a delicate, difficult and very obnoxious business to enter tne arena of politics and amputate its mortifying limbs. It may not be refreshing to act as a scav enger, bnt it seems to me to be a duty all good men owe to themselves and their pos terity I am afraid we are many of us like the British member of parliament, who only made one speech during his whole career. A matter of national importance was being discussed.. Watching his opportunity, ths provincial M. P., witn much gusto arose to bis feet, and addressing the Speaker, said: "There is a great deal of talk about pos terity. Posterity indeed; I wonld like to know what posterity has ever done for us. Yes, .gentlemen, if you want politics to be pnre, and you yourself belong to that cate gory, nie you to the primary meetings and infnse a little of your virtue into them." The Prenchera Position. The position occupied by the preacher in this connection is unique. In his congrega tion he has Democrats and Bepublicans, Prohibitionists and Greenbackers. He has to watch very carefully that he does not of fend some of these. If he speaks of Thomas Jefferson as an illustration of elevated sim plicity tbe Bepublicans begin to prick their ears and look a little sour. He may say a good word for Mrs. Cleveland, but it he should extol Grover he is a goner. Although General Grant has passed into history as one of its fixed stats he mnst not be landed too free'y or your Democratic Christian will kick. It is better for a minister to give poli tics the cold shoulder in the pulpit if he de sires to escape having a tottering time when he pays his next pastoral or social visits. When some great national question which is likely to touch the life of tbe nation or impede the onward progress of Christianity is on the, carpet, the preacher disgraces his calling who does not strike out right and left in defence or his country. Bnt it is not advisable for a minister to be hob-nobbing around among politicians, standing on the streets and haranguing little crowds, venti lating his opinions and denouncing other people's. His office is a spiritual one, and yon cannot do a man very much good spirit ually if you are openly and radically op posed to him politically. I would not have a minister so far removed from his citizen ship that he declines to vote. Neither do I think it necessary that he shonld pnt his light under a bushel. If a man sacrifices his rights of citizenship for fear of offending a few cranks who do not think the same as he does, he makes a mistake. He should ever preserve the dignity of his manhood invio late, bnt it is not essential that he should sing a song at every street corner jnst to let tbe public know where he stands. He may very quietly let it be known where his affiliations take root II he does this in a modest and becoming way, without seeking to give offense, he will not incur the dis pleasure of anyone worthy of his friendship. Privileges ef Public Official. The line between offensive partizanship and legitimate advocacy on the part of those in public office is not easy to define. It hardly seems right to deprive a man from advocating that which promotes his own best interest, and yet an officious, over bearing domination is productive of results which turuish our system of universal and unconditional franchise. Tboughtlul men are not willing to agree with those who hold that a public officer of the United States should be excused even from voting while in office. This wonld deprive thou sandiof our most intellectual people from exercising the one grand privilege whiah is the birthright of every American. i Women a: the Bailor. Woman's positio n a political sense is peculiar. There a: only one or two things which can be said. igaipst woman suffrage, and they are not ountablo objections. When I look into the home of an Intel gent, refined American woman, whose he band's bones lie mingled with the dust Southern battle-fields, a woman who 1 dona so much and made so many sacrific for her country, and from that picture tu. to the drunken brute in the gutter, remel benng thatrhe can vote while sbe cannot look m vain for the justice of it fcii,0i,,n A- P111. Mrs. Grant, Mn Garfield, Mrs. McClellan, and thoasands o our soldiers' widows, who are wearing th weeds of sorrow long before tbey would hav done so but for the untimely death of tbo dearest to them, have no voice in maki g the laws which govern them, whereas thou sands of men who trampled the flag of their country in the dnst and filled a million graves, are permitted riot only to vote but to nivnnv t.Htn ! i -- rjm """us (jusmuuj in tne councils o the nation. All this may be right It may be justice, but for the h e of me I cannot see it The Country Pabson. SEEVAHTSf CESTTJBIES AGO. How They Were Treated and How They Acted In Sbakeipearo'a Time. Chambers Journal. In the time of Shakespeare domestic service was in a state of transition; the old system was decaying, the new one springing into life; and if one may be allowed to judge from casual references scattered throughout the plays of the poet the new order does not appear to have been altogether satisfactory. In "King Lear" to take ono example Kent denounces Oswald, tha steward, as a "knave, a rascal and eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beg garly three-suited, 100 pound, worsted stocking knave." From Shakespeare's plays it further ap pears that the servants of the period were oompanions and confidants of their master, and that they were generally sly and pil fering, and players of practical jokes. In great families it wai customary for seryv ts to take an oath of fidelity on thefr enf into office. Posthumus alludes to the( when he says of Imogen's servants: , Her attendants are Alt tnrnrn onI hinA.aM The condition ot servants at this period was therefore pecnliar, and it is clear that they were ruled by a enrious mixture of stern discipline and great laxity. One mode or enforcing obedience was by imposing for feits or fines, some of which are ennmeratid by Sir J. Harrington in his "Nugae An tique." For being absent from prayers, for uttering an oath, for leaving a door open, or "for any follower visiting the cook," a fine was inflicted, while in another set of rules it is provided that If anyone this rnle doth break. And cut more bread than he can eat Shall to the box one penny pay. In case an oflender should refuse to pay "direct without resistance," provision u made at the conclusion that Each one here shall ba assistance, And he that doth refuge to aid By him one penny shall be paid. THE POEIEE IK HIS PALACE. No King Ever Rated With a Tyranny 31 ore Unrelenting; and severe. Boston Courier. A gentleman who was traveling on a sleeping car and who was to alight at abont 3 in the morning, gave the porter explicit directions to wake him at the proper time," and went to sleep. About midnight the porter came and aroused him. "Excuse me, sah," the porter said, "but X lorgut whare you's goin to getofE" The passenger, not much pleased at this interruption, repeated his directions, and then again addressed himself to sleep. Ha slept until a few minutes of the arrival of the train at tbe point where he was to stop, when he fortunately awoke. Looking at his watcb, he discovered that he had barely time to get dressed, and he scrambled into his clothes with a celerity that saved him from missing his station, all tbe time saying to himself things concerning the port' which were-by no means complimentary that individual. As the train drew into the station, where it made a stop of only a moment, tbe gentle man hurried out of the car, and as he did so passed the porter, sound -sleep on a seat in thesmoking room. With a poke of hi valise tbe passengerawakened him. "I say," he demanded, "why didn't yo call me as I told you to? I came very nci sleeping over." Tbe porter drew himself upwitbsleer dignity, suppressing a yawn and rubbir,, his eye open. "On dis car," he returned with the air of one who had been grossly iusalfed, "dar aint none of the "passengers 'lowed to waka up the porter, an' you'll have to wait till dis individual wakes up of himself before you can get any snch question answered." With perfect coolness he laid himself down again, and the passenger hurried out of the car without waiting to continue the conversation. BISMARCK EATS DET. Restrictions In Regard to Hi Stlmalaata aid Ilia Favorite Weed. London Weekly. At luncheon I observed that-Prince Bis marck drank nothing with his food, and asked him whether "eating dry" were a habit of his own choice or an article in tha dietecedetio drawn for him by his famous "Leibarzt," Dr. Schweninxe. "The latter," he replied. ''I am only al lowed to drink tbnee a day a quarter of an hour after each meal and each time not more than half a bottle of red, sparkling Moselle of a very light and dry charasf'. Burgundy and beer, of both of which A extremely fond, are strictly forbidden to m, so are all the strong Rhenish and Spanish wines, and even claret. For some years past I have been a total abstainer from all these generous liquors, much to tbe advantage of my health and my 'condition, in the sport ing sense of the word." "Formerly I used to weigh over IT stone. By observing this regimen I brought myself down to under 14, and without any loss of atrengtn inaeea, witn gam. JUy normal weight is now 185 pounds. X am weighed once every day by my doctor's orders, ana any excess of that fisure I at once set to work to get rid of by exercise and special regimen. Xride a good deal, as well as walk. Cigar smoking I have given up al together, of course, under advice. It is de bilitating and bad for the nerves. An in veterate smoker, such as X used to be, prob ably gets through 100,000 cigars in his Ufa il be reaches a fair average age. But he would live longer and fee! better all his time if he did without them. Nowadays X ' am restricted to a long pipe, happily with a deep bowl, one after each meal, and Ismoka nothing in it bnt Dutch knaster tobacco, which is light, mild and soothing." TOBACCO AND CrVTLIZATIOff. No New Faith Ever Traveled aa Fast aa the Bnblt ot Smoking. Prot Staler in Scrlbner. The development of tha American colo nies, their rapid growth in the century pre ceding the American revolution, depended in a large measure on a botanical accident, viz., on tha introduction of tobacco into tha commerce of the world. No contribution from newly discovered lands has ever been so welcomed as this so-called noxious weed. N.o new faith has ever traveled to fast and far among men as the habit of smoking. In scares a century from the first introduction of tha plant in Europe, its use had spread to near ly half the peoples of the Old World. The eastern coast of America, irom the Hudson southward to South Carolina, is peculiar! well suited for the growth of the tobacc plant, and tbe rapid extension of the British colonies in America, which brought their population at the time of the Revolution fo a point where tbey numbered about oae-t sixtn pari oi tne .English people, was I lydueto the commerce which rested i ubm iae use oi ta piaat s - Er -ht u. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers