BgJKjBS I I. 18 to the sheet of foolscap on which he mean tn shadow forth the outlines of his lecture. The effort was absurd. He might keep his eyes mechanically fixed on the paper; but his brain retused toact. Industry capital the proposed resumption by the workers of the world of the mines, factories, docks, ship canals, railways which their labor had constructed the impracticability of land nationalization and so forth: what were these but mere lifeless phrases, when his heart was listening for the smallest sound on the otner side ot the street! And ill-luck pursued him. She did not come once to the window. The chrysanthemums in the little balcony were quite neglected. The after noon passed, and neither she nor her grand father came out alone. Then, when be went over as .usual about 6:30, there was no chance of his speaking to her by herself; in fact, both she and her graudfatbtr were seated at the one table, with a heap of boots and papers before them. "Enough, Maisrie, enough," Mr. Beth une said blithelv, and he rose at once. "You had your wish though I don't see why you should undertake any such drudgery " She also rose to receive the visitor; and as she gave him her hand for a moment, and regarded him with very friendly eyes, there was was not the least trace of self-consciousness in her manner. "Yes," she said, with a bright and frank smile, "grandfather has couferred a new dignitv on me. I am become his amanuen sis. Notthat I ani the slightest real use to him, I suppose; it is only done to please me, still, I take it seriously, and pretend to be doing my share. Time to go, is it? very well, I shall be ready in a minute." He was amazed and mortified beyond measure by this perfect self-possession. Had nothing whatever happened the night be fore, then? There was no secret be tween them at alll She had made no con fession given him no message? And then wounded pride stepped in and spoke with its usual violence and cruel injustice. Per haps there were people who dispensed their caresses so freely that they thought nothing of theml What had startled him, a man, might be only a matter of course to her, a girlt Nay for what will not a lover say in a passion of jealous anger and disap pointment? perhaps he was not the first nor the only one who had been similarly be wilderedl He had no word for Maisrie on her return to the room. When the three of them went out into the street, he lorsook his usual post by her side, and walked with her grand father, to whom he talked exclusively. And of course, as his questions were all about the projected compilation of ballads, and as old George Bethune was always keenly en thusiastic about any new undertaking, there was no stint to their conversation, .Maisrie walked on in silence and unheeded. When they reached the restaurant, and as they were taking their seats at the little table, she glanced at the young man; but his eyes did not happen to meet hers. And there was no place for her in their talk. "No," old George Bethune was saying and with considerable animation, for he ap peared to have been looking over some of the ballads during the day, and his mind was still fired by the recollection of them, "I think they are beyond the reach of illus tration, even if there should be an edition de luxe. I have considered your suggestion more tban once; but I 'ear the drawing would in almost every instance be an anti climax to the power and simplicity and pathos of the printed page. No picture could be as vivid and clear and striking as the verses themselves; why, just think of such lineM as these 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, 2Cor blmwne: snaus incleiuencie; Tin not sic cauld that makes me cry. But my love's heart grown cauld to me. V hen we came in by Glasgow town. We were a comelj sight to see; ilt love was clad i the black velvet. And I myself in cramoisie. What picture could better that? What picture could do anthing but weaken it? You rtmeniber in 'Edom o' Gordon' how the young maiden is lowered from the burn ing tower only to be transfixed by EJoru o Gordon's spejr Thev row'd her in a pair o' sheets. And tow'd her owi c the wa'; But on the point o Gordon's spear She gat a deatlly fa' 0 bonnip, bonnie was her month. Ant' cherry were ber cheeks. Ami clear, clear was her yellow hair, Whereon the red blood dreeps. Then wi' his spear he turned hero owre; 0 bu- her face was wan! lie sanl. Ye aie the first that e'er 1 wish'd alive again." He turned her owre and owre again, O bnt her skin was white! "I in'gut bac spared that bonnie face To hae Decn sonio man's delight. "Husk and bono, my merry men a', For ill dooms I do guess 1 cannot look on that bonnie face As it lies on the grass,'" "What illustration could improve on that? why, it burns clear as fljtnel Then, again, tak'e the girl who was drowned by her sister in "ihe bonnie mill-dams o' Balloray' " At this point the silent and neglected Maisrie suddenly looked up glancing from her grandfather to the young man in a curiously appealing way. She seemed to My 'Grandf ither, you forget; it is not Ball orav, it is Bmnorie;" and again 'Vincent, he has forgotten: that is all.' But neither of them took any notice of her; nay, the younger man, in his insensate indignation and disappointment, would not look her way at all; while old George Bethune, with his mind hied on those imaginary pictures, went on in a rapt fashion to repeat certain of the verses Yc cnnldna fee ner yellow hair. Balloray, O Halloray, For gowd and pearls that were sae rare. By the bonnie null-dams o' Balloray. Yeoou'dna see her middle sma', Balloray, O Balloray. " Her gowden girdle was sae braw. By the bonnie null-dams o' Balloray. Ye conldna see her lily feet, Balloray, O Balloray, Her gowden fringes were sae deep. By the bonnie mill-dams o' Balloray. Sair will thev De, whae'er tbey be, Ballorav. o"Bal'or.y, The hearts that live to weep for tbeer By the bonnie mill-dams o' Balloray! "It is like a pictnre by one of the pre Baphaelites," Vincent said; and then the old man proceeded to talk ot paper and type ami uiuuiu, aa n lug ucn nui. were just ready for press. But silence wis not to reign forever be tween those two. On their way home Mr. Bethune was talking of "The Demon Lover," of its alleged Italian origin, and of a suggestion he had seen somewhere that it was i.o iorsaken sweetheart who had come to tempt the wedded wile, hut a fiend adopt ing that disguise. When they reached the little parlor he began to search about for the volume in which "The Demon Lover" was thus treated; but could not find it; whereupon he went up-stairs to see if it was not among his books and papers there. As soon as he had goue, llaisrie rose and came over to where the young man was standing bv the firenlace. '"What have I done, Vincent?" she said. "Oh, nothing," he made answer, avoiding her eyes. 'I have a right to know," she said, proudlv. "It is nothing," said he. "I I made a mistake; that is all." She looked at him in mute reproach, then she turned away and went back to her seat. There was a paper-knife on the table beside her; she took that into her hands and began to finger it; her eyes were downcast; he was lree to go now, when he chose. But he did not go. On the contrary, after a second or two of vacillation, he followed her. "llaisrie," said he, in a very different tone, "perhaps it's all a mistake on my part. If so, I am sorry. I don't want to vex you" "I don't want to vex you, Vincent," said she, in a somewhat low voice. "Tell me what it is." "Well," said he, "I came here this after noon thinking hoping there might be some more definite understanding between you and me; yes, I was hoping for much und then and then I found you quite care less and thoughtless, just as it nothing at all had happened last night " "Last night?" she repeated. "Yes," said he, rather . reproachfully. "Pon't yon remember what happened last night? Don't you know that Ton pressed my hand to your heart? Bnt perhaps that was nothing perhaps that meaut nothing at all ." "It meant a very- great deal, Vincent," said she, warmly, looking up at him with honest eyes. "We were talking of the value of true lriends and I could not sav much yetl wished to tell you what I thought of all your goodness and kindness. Indeed, indeed it meant a great deal, Vincent and I hoped you would understand" "I have understood too much," said he, and he was silent for a second. Then be went on. "I thought you had more than that to say to me, .Maisrie. For why need I tell vou what you must have guessed al ready? You know I love you; you must have' seen it all this time; there was no need for me to speak. And when the future has but the one hope for me, that some day or other you should be mv wife, then perhaps I was too eacer to believe it had all come true that you were giving me a promise in that quiet way and no need of a spoken word between us. But I was mistaken, I see. You only meant friendship. You only wanted to say 'Thank youP to a friend " But by this time she had risen from her chair; and there was in her eyes the strangest look of pride and joy, and per haps, too, of sadness. "Do you know what you are saving, Vin cent?" she said, quite gently. "You of all people in the world " She hesitated; she regarded with admir ing, and gratelul, and affectionate eyes this handsome lad on whom fortune had shed all good things and perhaps she could not suite confess all she thought. ) '"loti of all people in the world every one maicing mucn 01 you everyone hoping such great things of you and you come seeking a wife here." She glanced around at the shabby little apartment. Then she turned her ryes toward him again; and there was a smile in them, of an unstable kind; and tears were gathering in the lashes. "Well," she said, "it will be something for me think ot. It will be something for me to be proud of. There can be no harm iu that. I shall be able to say to myself, 'Vin cent thought so well of you that he once asked you to be his wife " "But I don't know what you mean, Maisrie!" he exclaimed, and iu spite of her he seized her hand and held it tight between his two. "What do you mean? You are going to be my wife! Ob, I don't want you to make rash promises; I dou't want to frighten you; no, I want you to be of good heart, and you will see things will turn out all right trust me for hat! And if you don't know your own mind yet if you are a'raij to say anything won't you let me guess? Surely we have not been all this time together, and seeing so much of each other, without getting to know each other pretty intimately. And if I did make a mistake last night well, that is a trilling matter and I was too presumptuous " She managed to release her hand. "Sit down, Vincent, and let me talk to you," she said. "Perhaps I may not have another chance; and I do not wish you ever to look back and say I was ungrateful, or unreasonable, or cold-hearted. Cold-hearted? not that toward you!" And then she went on in rather a sad way. "I think the time ha about come that we should parr. It has been a pleasant companionship; I am not likely ever to forget it. But your future is so important, and onrs so uncertain, that I am sure the sooner we go separate ways the better. And lam anxious to make a change now. You know my grandfather spent far more money on my education than there was anv need for; his fancy was that I should be fitted for my new position, it those Scotch estates were to come to us; but now he does not think of that so much; and I have been wishing to make some practical use of the educatipu he has given me. And I think if we went away somewhere where we could live more cheaply where there would be fewer temptations toward the spending of monev I could do something to support him, and leave him the luxury of his books. I am a woman now I want to work" "You work? Not while I can!" he said, hotly. She went on without heeding him. ,'That is why I have been glad to see him so eager about this book of ballads. If he could onlv get rid of all indebtedness, tn friends and others, through this book, then we should start clear; and I should ask grandiather not to fret any more about his literary schemes. He is an old man. He has done everything for me; why should I not do something for him now? And I have no pride. The story about those Scotch estates was always a kind of fairy tale to me; I never had any real belief in the possibility of tbeir coming to ns; I was never a fine lady even in imagination. So that it matters little to me what I turn my hand to; if what little education I have had is useless, I would take to something else; I would work about a farm house as soon as anything for I am a great deal stronger than yon may imagine " "Oh, what are you talking about, llais rie!" he said, with simulated anger, "if you think I am going to allow any such lolly, you are mistaken. There are plenty ot dairymaids in the world without you. And I have the right to say something I claim the right: I am going to interfere, whether you like it or not. When you speak of your duty towards your grand lather, that I understand. He has been everything to you; who would ask you to forsake him? But, as you say, he is an old man. If anything were to happen to him, think of your own position. You have hardly a friend in the world a few ac quaintances in Canada, perhaps but what la that? You will want someone to protect you; give me that rightl If I let you go from me now, how am I to find you again? how am I to know what may happen? llaisrie, have courage! be frank! tell me me that the little message of last night meant something morel" The eloquence was not in the words, bnt in the vibrating tones of his voice; and there were tearsin her eyes as she answered "Vincent, I cannot I dare noli You don't know how grandfather and I are sit uated; you are so generous, so open-minded, that that you see everything in so favor able a light; but then other people might step in " "Between you an'd me? Who?" he de manded, with set lips. "Ab," she said, with a sigh, "who can tell? And besides besides do you not think I am as proud of you as any one? do you not think am looking forward to all that is expected of you? and when I hear of you as this or that, I will say to myself 'I knew what Vincent was going to do; and now he is glad that he did not hamper him self out of out of pity lor a friendless girl' " But here she broke down altogether, and covered her face with her hands, and sobbed without possibility of concealment. He was by her side in a moment; he laid his hand on the down-bent head on the soft hair. "Maisrie," he said, with the utmost gen tleness, "don't make me angry. It you have anything to say why you cannot, or will not, be my wife, tell me; but do not be un reasonable and foolish. You speak of my future: it is nothing to me without you. You talk of the expectations of my friends: I tell vou that my life is my own. And why should you be any drag or hamper you! I wish you would think of yourself a little: not of me. Surely there is something better in the world than ambition, and fig uring before the public iu newspapers." Then he stopped for a second or two; and resumed in a lower and different tone. "Of course, if you refuse me your love, that is different. That I can understand. I have done nothing to deserve it; I have come to you as a beggar. If you refnse me that, there is nothing more to be said. I do not blame you. If I have made a mistake, so much the worse for me " She rose. "Vincent," she said, between her half stifled sobs, "you are not very kind. But it is better so much better. Now I must go and help grandfather to find that book. And ns this is to be the last word well, then dear friend don't be so ungenerous to me in after years when you look back" But he was not likely to let her go like that. He interposed between her and the door; nay, he drew her towards him, and took her head between his hands, and pushed back the hair from, her brow, as though he would read down to the very THE depths or those beautiful, tear-dimmed eyes. "You have not refused me your love, Maisre because you dare not!" he said. "And what do I care whether you say it or not when I know?" And therewith he kissed her on the mouth and again and again. "Now you are mine. You dare not deny mv love And I claim you as my wife '" She struggled backward to be free from him, and said almost wildly "No, no Vincent, you do not understand I have not been frank with you I can not ever be your wilel some day I will tell you " There was no chance for any further en treaty Qr explanation, for at this moment there was the sound of a footstep outside, the door was opened, and old George Bethune appeared, carrying in his bands some half-dozen books. When he saw those two standing opposite to each other, the young man pale and agitated, the girl also pale and with her eyes streaming over with tears, he glanced from the one to the other in silence. Then he walked deliberately forward to the table, and laid down the books. Maisrie escaped from the room. Vincent returned to the fireplace, too be wildered by her last words to care much what construction might be placed upon this scene by her grandfather. But he had to recall himself: or the old man.just as if he had observed nothing, just as i( nothing had happened, but yet with a certain measured precision in his tones, resumed bis discussion of "The Demon Lover." and proceeded to give his reasons for thinking that the story had migrated from the far north to the south. But presently Mr. Bethune had turned from those books, and was staring into the fire, as he said with a certain slow and sig nificant emphasis "It will be an interesting subject; and yet I must guard against being wholly ab sorbed by it. And that for my grand daughter's sake. I imagine we have -been living a much too monotonous life for some time back; and that is not well, lor anyone, especially for a young girl. A limitation of interests; that is wholesome. The mind becomes morbid, and exaggerates trines. And in the case of Maisrie, she has beeu used to change and travel; I should think the unvarying routine of our life of late, both as regards oar employments and amusements, extremely prejudicial to her health and spirits " "Why, she seems very well!" Vincent said, anxiously tor he knew not what all this might mean. "A change will do her good will do all of us good, perhaps," said the old man. "Everyone knows that it is not wise for people to see too much ot each other; it puts too heavy a strain on friendship Compan ionship should be a volunteered thing should be a reward, indeed, for previous isolation and work " Vincent's forehead flushed; and the natural man within him was crying out, "Ob, very well, then; I don't press any further ac quaintance on you!" But forMaisrie's sake he curbed his pride. He said, as quickly as might be "In our case I thought that was precisely how our companionship stood a little re laxation alter the labors of the dav. How ever, if vou think there has been too much of that" "I was speaking of general principles," Mr. Bethune said, with equanimity. "At the same time I confess that, as regards Maisrie. I think-that some alteration in our mode of existence might be beneficial. Her life of late has been much too monotonous." "Again and again she has told me that she delights in the quietude of it!" the young man protested for it suddenly oc curred to him that Maisrie was to be dragged away from England altogether. "Surely she has had enough of travel?" "Travel? That is not what I have in mind," old George Bethune said. "We have neither the time nor the means. I should merely propose to pack up a few books and things, and take Maisrie down to some sea side place Brighton, perhaps, as being the most convenient." The young man's face flashed instant re lief; Brighton thac was something-different from what he had been dreading. Brigh ton Brighton was not Toronto nor Mon treal; there was going to be no wide Atlan tic between him and her; a trivial matter of an hour's railway journey or something of the kindl "Oh, Brighton?" said he, quite gladly. "Yes, that will be very pleasant lor her. Brighton is brisk and lively enough at this time of the year; and it there is any suulight going, you are sure to get it there. I am afraid you will find the hotels lull " "We shall not trouble the hotels," Mr. Bethune said, with grave diguitv. "Some very humble lodgings will suffice. And perhaps we might get rooms in a house on the hill at the back of the town; that would give me seclusion and quiet for my work; then, in holiday half hours, Maisrie and I could go down to the sea front and have a stroll on the pier. Yes, I think the change will be wholesome; and the sooner we set about it the better." Well, to Vincent it did not seem that this proposal involved any great alteration in their mode of life, except that he Himself was obviously and unmistakably excluded; nevertheless, he was so glad to find that the separation from Maisrie was of a mild and temporary nature that he affected to give a quite cordial approval. He even offered to engage the services of his aunt, Mrs. Elli son, in securing them apartments; but Mr. Bethune answered that Maisrie and he were old campaigners, and would be able to sbi t for themselves. And when did they pro pose to go? "Well, to-morrow, if his grand daughter were content. While tney were yet talking .Maisrie made her appearance. She had bathed her eyes in water, and there whb not much trace of her recent agitation, though she'was still somewhat pale. And Vincent to show her that he refused to be alarmed by her parting words to show her that he was quite confi dent as to the future preserved his placid, not to say gay, demeanor. "Do you know what your grandfather is going to do with you, Maisrie?" said he. "He is going to take you down to Brighton for a time. Yes, and at once to-morrow, if you care to go." She glanced quickly from one to the other, fearing sbme conspiracy between them. "And you, Vincent?" she asked, turning to him. He did not meet her look. "I? Oh, I must keep to work; I can't afford to go away down and idle among those fashionable folk. My Mendover lecture isn't half sketched out yet. And then, again, you remember the article 1 told you about? before beginning it I ought really to run down to Scotland, or at least to York shire, and see one of those municipal lodg ing houses in actual operation. They seem to me marvelous institutions," continued this consummate hypocrite (as if the chief thought in his mind at this moment was the housing ot the industrious poorl) "and of the greatest importance to the country at large; worked at a profit, too, that is' the amazing thingl Fancy at Huddersfield: threepence a day includes use of cooking and table utensils, a smoking room, reading room and conversation room, and then abed at night all for threepence! Belonging to the ratepayers, themselves under the man agement of the corporation and paying a profit so that you can go on improving aud extending. Why, every big town in the kingdom ought to have a municipal lodg ing house, or half a dozen of them; and- it only needs to be shown how they are worked for the example to be copied everywhere "And when do you go, Vincent?" she asked, with downcast eyes. "Oh, I am not sure yet," he made answer cheerfully. "Of course, I ought in duty to go, but it will cost me half what I shall get for the article. However, that is -neither here nor there. But if this is to be our last night together for a little while, Maisrie," he went on to keep up his complacent acquiescence iu this temporary separation, "you might give us a little music won't you? you haven't had. the violin out of its case tor a long time." She was very obedient. She went and got the violin though she was in no playing or singing mood. "What, then, grandfather?" ha laid when she was ready. " Whatever you pleaie" PTTTSBUBG "DISPATCH, Then she began and very slowly aud tenderly she played the air ot a Scotch song "Annie's Tryst." It is a simple air, and yet pathetic in its way; and, indeed, so sensitive and skilllul washer touch that the violin seemed to apeak; anyone familiar with the song might have Imagined he heard the words interpenetrating those vibrant notes: Your hand Is cauld as snaw, Annie, Yonr cheek Is wan and white; What ears ye tremble sac. Annie. What makes joure'e sae bright? The snaw is on the ground. Willie, The frost is cauld and Keen. But there's a burnin' fire, Willie, lhat sears my heart within. Oh, will ya tryst wi me, Annie, Oh, will ye tryst rne then? I'll meet ye by the burn. Annie, That wimples d'iwu the glen. I daurna trst wi' you, Willie, I daurna tryst ye here. But we'll hold our tryst In heaven, Willie, In the springtime o' the year. "That is too sad, Msisrie," her grand father said, fretiully. "Why don't you sing something?" She turned to Vincent, there was a mute question in her eyes. "Will you sing the 'Claire Fontaine,' Maisrie?" said he. She seemed a little surprised; it was a strange song to ask for on a nieht of fare well; but she did as she was bidden. She went and got the book and placed it open before her on the table: then she drew her bow across the strings. But hardly had she began to sing the little ballad than it became evident there was something added to the pure, clear tones of her voice some quality of an in definable nature some alien influence that might at any moment prove too strong for her self-control. Bur la plus haute branche This was the point at which she began Le rossignol, cnantait: Chante, rossignol, chante, Tol qui as le cceur gai And so far all was well; but at the refrain , Lui ya longtemps aue je t'alme, jamais je ne vououerai Her voice shook a little, and her lips were tremulous. Vincent curses hia folly a hun dred times over: why had he asked her to sing the "Claire Fontaine?" Bnt still she held bravely on: Chante, rossignol. chante, Toi qui as le cosur gai; To as le coenr a rire, Mol je 1' ai-t-a pleurer And here she could go no further for those choking tears in her voice; she stood for a moment I'll uuceitain trying to master her seli; then she laid the violin on the table, and with a broken "Good night, Vincent aud goodby!" she turned and left the room, her hands hiding her face, her frame shaken by the violence of her sobbing. There was an instant of silence. "Yes, it is time she was taken away," old George Bethune said, with a deep frown on his shaggy eyebrows. "Her nerves are all wrong. Why should she make such a to-do about leaving London for a fortnight?" But Vincent Harris knew better tban that It was not this unexpected departure that was in Maisrie's niiud; it was the words that he had spoken to her and she to him earlier iu the evening. It was of no fort night's absence she was thinking, but of a far wider and longer farewell. To be Continued aYezt Sunday. C0MPBE8SED AIE. Some Facts Concerning the Hevr Motive I'ower to he Adopted at Ellwood. Beaver (Fa.) Journal. H. W. Hartman was seen to-day by a re porter regarding the compressed air project at Ellwood which has recently occupied some space in several newspapers. He said the accounts which he had seen, gave very meager and unsatisfactory impressions of this new motive force. He also said he had beeu having the subject examined by the most competent engineer for a long time past and that the Pittsburg company would utilize all the water power from the big dam to be bnilt at Ellwood, in tnis manner. "The surplus power from the dam nqw building here, will probably be converted into compressed air. Whenever large water powers are available, sav for 1,000 horse power and over, then this plan is entirely feasible. It is a great success iu Europe and will utimately be adopted on an ei ten si v plan in this country. In England, they are making it by steam power, with coal at 16 to 20 shillings a ton, and selling the compressed air to factories as we do natural gas, piping it several miles through the streets. "When such can be done successfully with high priced fuel, what may we not ex pect to accomplish with our water power at Ellwood? We propose to operate ill our own factories with compressed air as soon as the dams are completed. What have we to fear Irora natural gas failures when we have harnessed the water that runs to waste at our feet and with it connected the air we breathe, into the greatest motive power ever known? I have recently been through a factory on a ho August day -where 12 engines were running with compressed air and were ex hausted within the buildings, thus produc ing the most perfect and healthful ventila tion. Not a steam joint, or even a boiler in the place. Oh it's the only thing ever seen that beats natural gas. Truly the world moves nowadays and we must keep up with the procession, or 'all away to the rear " "It is impossible," be continued, "to give anything like an adequate description of what it is doing and what it can be made to accomplish. It is one of the most import ant discoveries of the age." GETTING OUT OF A HOPE. A Simple Iiltln Trick That Alwnys Looks Terj Ppzzllnff. Take a stout rope about 20 feet long and band it to your audience for inspection. While they are examining it let a commit tee of gentlemen, that being the approved style of doing the thing, bind yonr wrists together with a handkerchief. This being done bave one end of the rope passed over the handkerchief, and let the cords then be held up by one of the company. Now re quest the person holding the ends to pull one way while you pull the other, to show that the handkerchief is tightly tied. There is now apparently no way of getting the rope off except the cuds are released or the handkerchief untied. You soon explode this idea, however, for after making one or two rapid movements of your hands and arms you throw the rope off and exhibit your wrists still tied. Wondcrinl as this all seems it is very simple and requires but little practice. The accompanying illustration explains it clearly. The part of the rope marked "A" is rolled between the wrists until it work's up through the handkerchief and forms a loop, through which you pass one hand, and then by giving the rope a smart jerk it will easily come off. GETTING EH) 07 EESEEVE. The Most Populir Dinner Party Among the Fmhloanble of Pari. Eugene Field, poet, paragrapher, wag, humorist and newspaper drudge, records an alleged innovation he lately observed at a fashionable dinner in Paris: "The guests," he says, "do not sit all at one table, but are disposed at small tables in groups ol eight By this means is obviated the frigid solemnity which invariably char acterizes occasions o this kind. A flower, to which is attached a tiny card, signifies to each gentleman which lady be is expected to escort to dinner, and he sits at the place designated by a posy corresponding to the one which he wean. SUNDAY. SEPTEMBER THE BOAT OF THE DAY HcDongall's Derided Whalebacks Will Soon See Salt Water. THET'BB BOW SELF-PBOPELLIHG, And Are Far Superior to Anything Afloat for Bulk Freight. CAHTALISTS OP CDBA INTERESTED rCORRESFONPlCNCX OF THE DISPATCH. 1 Cleveland, September 23. Readers of The Dispatch are already familiar with McDougall's whale-backs of the great lakes. In the early summer of 18S3 there was launched from a little shipyard, newly established at Dulntb, a steel tow barge, christened the "No. 101," unlike anything afloat anywhere else in the world. It was without spars, and was utterly help less so far as navigating itself was con cerned, and was intended solely for towing. It was the consummation of the ideas and dreams of Captain Alex. McDougall, an old lake captain, and the model .was patented. The No. 101 .was the butt of countless jokes. Up and down the lakes every sailor and vessel man was laughing at "Mc Dou call's dreams" and scoffing at the idea that such a cigar-shaped "dugout" should ever become profitable property as a freight earlier. m'dougall's haed fight. For nearly 20 years McDougall had been talking about such a boat, explaining that, as it presented less surface to the wind and waves than an ordinary vessel, it would tow more easily and roll less in a heavy sea than a boat of the old type, and trying to convince those who would listen to him that such a barge, 280 feet long and 38 feet wide, would carry more ore on a lG-.oot draft than a steel vessel of the ordinary type 295 leet long and 41 feet wide. The old vessel men thought him daft, but at last he succeeded iu interesting capital enough in his idea to build the No. 101. She speedily proved the practical nature of the McDougall model, and the American Steel Barge Company was organized, with a THE STEAJIEB number of wealthy men. including John D. Rockafeller, as stockholders and practically unlimited capital at its command. The work of building more of the odd-shaped barges, BtiH referred to by the sailors a "McDougall's dreams," steadily continued. Presently the small shipyard at Duluth was outgrown and transferred across the bay to West Superior, Wis., where its capacity has been enlarged until there are now eight "berths," and it will be able when running at full capacity to turn out one of these steel barges every two or three weeks. THE LATEST DEVELOPMENT. It is over two years since the No. 101 was launched. There are now seven of the "whale-backed" barges being towed down from Lake Superior with ore to the Lake Erie ports and back again with coal. But McDougall and his company were not con tent with mere barges, and a few months ago the first steel-screw steamer on the Mc Dougall model slid down the ways at West Superior, and is now engaged in the same trade. Five more steel vessels are now under construction at West Superior, two steamers and three tow barges, and it is announced that the company will launch five ateel-acrew steamers, besides a number of barges between this and next spring. All that have been built since the No. 101 bave been of twice her capacity or more, and Captain McDougall states that here after all vessels built by the company will be in two classes, the larger with a gross ca pacity ol 4,000 and the smaller of 3,000 tons. The larger vessels will be 300 feet long and 41 feet beam, and will have a larger carry ing capacity on a 15-root draft than any other vessels on the lake. With the Hunch of each new McDougall boat a laugh still goes up among the sailors and conservative vessel men over '"McDpugall's dreams," but with each new one turned out the laugh is fainter. A GBEAT SUCCESS. The two years of practical operation of the McDongall barges have shown that the inventor's calculations were correct. Not only are the barges easier to tow but tbey have an enormous capacity. It has onlv been a few weeks since the barge "No. 107" broke the record, bringing down the largest cargo of ore ever carried from Lake Super ior. This barge is 285 feet over all and 36 feet beam, yet she carried 3,051 net tons of ore, a load that wonld have been remark able for a steamer 300 feet over all and 40 feet beam. To this barge's carrying capacity and easy towing aualityisadded the advantage of low cost. Tnis steel barge, "No. 107," cost scarcely-one-third as much as a steels crew steamer of the capacity of the ordinary type, and a steels crew steamer on theMcD ougall model can be built for less than half the cost of a vessel of like (capacity on the old type. It follows that these homely "whale backed" cralt are money-makers and pay proporticnately larger dividends tban the handsomer vessels built according to the old and accepted models. The first screw steamers of this pattern, the Colgate Hoyt, a cut of which is shown herewith, is 280 leet loug and 36 feet wide, and brought down nearly 2,400 net tons ot ore nn her maiden trip. She differs from the barges in having the crew's quarters built about the stern turret where the en gines are located. TOE SALT -WATEE, TOO. The size of the West Superior shipyard, which was put in complete working shape a lew months ago, at first. mystified and rather alarmed some of the vessel men on the lakes. With a capacity of a "whale-back" every three weeks, and with the certainty that in transporting all bulk freights, such as ore, coaland grain, these peculiar craft possess decided advantages over the regular type of vessels, there begau to be a sugges tion of apprehension that this birge com pany, with the enthusiastic McDougall at its bead, would overdo the business and ruin freight rates. But this is dispelled for a time, at least, and the wide field that the company intends to fill with its barges is shown by the announcement that the barge "No. 108," which will ' soon be launched, will be taken down the St. Lawrence to the Atlantic, and that at least two or three others will be sent to salt water in tbe spring The Barge Company's officials say there is no reason why the McDougall cralt should not succeed as well iu tbe coasting trade, and with minor changes in the trans Atlantic trade also, aB they have on tbe lakes. And, however much others may differ with them on this point, it is certain the company has the capital and facilities to thoroughly test the matter. CUBAN CAPITALISTS INTERESTED. It is understood that some of these vessels will enter the coal trade Irom Philadelphia to New! England ports, a class of business for which they are especially adapted, and that, with the further development of the iron mines of Cuba, these vessels are likely to be extensively used in transporting. Cuban ow to thli country. The owaen of f 21. 1890. iron ore property in Cuba are greatly inter ested in the McDougall barges. The Sigua Iron Company, which includes a number of Philadelphia and European capitalists, expects to.give them a thorough trial in carrying ore from their Cuban mines to Philadelphia, Baltimore and other . Atlantic ports, a nd the Spanish-American Iron Company, of this city, in which the Elys and a number of other leading Lake Superior iron mine owners are heavily Itiercsted, intends to use the McDougall vuh'i iu carrying ore from Cuba to Mamie and other ports. Hon. George H. Ely, who is an authority on lake commerce as well as the iron ore business, says he fails to see any reason why these boats should not succeed in this Cuban oru trade and that in his opinion they are just the thing for it. This is likely to open a wide field for them. POB THE PACIFIC. It Is also well known that the Barge Com pany has for some time been considering the advisability of building a yard on the Pacific Coast. The city of Tacoma has of fered the company extraordinary induce ments and supported its promises by a good bond. An official of the company 'in speak ing of this project recently said: "I be lieve that in another year McDougall's barges will be running between Puget Sound and San Francisco. We have been guaranteed contracts for carrying coal from the Sound to Sin Francisco that will war rant us in building the yard." Meanwhile Captain McDougall is more active and energetic than ever and more sanguine. The -verdict of experience thus far is in his favor, and the success be has already achieved on the great lakes assures him ample reward lor his originality, even should the greater plans for development on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts fail. The inventor lias won his long struggle for recog nition, his dreams are made real and the public will be benefited by the cheaper transport ition that is certain to follow the wider adoption of the McDougall model for vessels engaged in carrying all kinds of coarse, bnlky products. Samuel G. McCltjbe. ENGLAND MAY WANT THIS. Loos Island Sound is bh alacb an Open Sea as Bchrloff. Sew York Press. John M. Guiteau, the attorney, has given considerable study to the Behring Sea in ternational controversy, and he said yester day: "Behring Sea is larger than Long Island Sound, but it is as effectually closed by the property of America and Russia as COLGATE HOYT. the sound is by possessions of the United States. Lone Island Sound is as much of a high sea, and the tide rises as high there as in Behring Sea, and the British subject living next to Maine could reach the sound by fewer days sailing and hours ol time tban the British living next to Alaska. "Why not claim for the inhabitants of Canada tbe right to enter the Sound and capture bluefish and muskrats? They could do it much easier than they could go to Behring Sea for seals and whales to be found there. Neither the United States nor Eng land ever claimed that Behring Sea was a sea open to the entrance of powers others than Russia prior to the cession to the United States. There was a contention about whale fishing, etc., in the North Pa cific Ocean; but that applied to territory clearly in the Pacific Ocean, and that was settled as it ought to have been without even a remote reierence to Behring Sea." B0YALFISH. The Slargreon and Whnlo When Captured Ihe Properly of the Kin?. TV. K. S., In Harper's Young People.l While old and wise head ot the United States and England are carrying on a digni fied quarrel over the ownership of tbe seal in Behring Sea, let me tell you something about royal fish. You know that kings and queens have many rights and prerogatives. Well, one of these prerogatives of English rulers in olden times related to royal fish. Royal fish are sturgeon and whale, which are considered the finest of deep sea fish. For this reason, "on account of their supe rior excellence," whenever one of these fish was thrown ashore or caught near tbe coast ot England it became the property of the king. This seems very unjust to those who might secure the whale or sturgeon, for they were compelled to give it up without receiv ing any pay. However, the Xing had some ground lor claiming these royal fish as his property, because it was he wboguarded and protected the seas from pirates and robbers, and in those days there were very many of them. The most peculiar feature of the custom of royal fish was this that while the whole of the sturgeon belonged to the King, only half of a wbale did. For it was a preroga tive, as it is called, of the Queen that the tail of every whale caught in the way I have told you was her property, while the head only was the King's. The reason for this division, as given by the old records, was to lurnish the Queen's wardrobe with whale bone; and this reason is more amusing than tbe custom is peculiar, for the whalebone lies entirely in the head of the wbale. But there are many more as strange and amus ing customs recorded in England's early laws. This right to royal fish was considered of great importance, and was carefully guarded for many generations. It was also a pre rogative of the Kings of Denmark and the Dukes of Normandy, and Irom one of these it was probably derived by the Princes of England. The Oil Doctor. rWIUTTBN FOB THE PInrATCH.1 They've got a new man down byore At Mason's Cove, thet's young An' got a heap ' l'arnin' An' quite a 'fly tongue. I've nothin' no-way 'ginst him, Bnt tell ye! when I'm sick I want old Dr. Milspaugb. An' I want him mighty quick! He's doctored all my famhly For sixty year, ye know, An' when he couldn't cure us He never told us sol He neverglvo a case up Like doctors sometimes do, Bnt let us die a-hopin' Thet we was pullin' through. 'N most 1 like about him Is thet b never tries New-fannied drue upon ye. Like some that ain't so wise. No differ what's jour ailment. He'll give ye Calermel; Ef thet don't work he'll dose ye With quinine fer a spell. Thar ain't no form o' sickness Thet ever showed itse't Inside u' murtal critters Enj'yln mortal breaf But what old Doc kin spot it An' call the thing by name, Like bo was blood-kin to it An' knovted l'om whar It came. He's hand-in-glove with fevers, 'N' when he strikes a sprain He's jest like be was savin' 'Well, hvcfe ye are again!" An' even Death don't faze him He knows it, branch an' roots, So well ye 'boat 'ad reckon They both was in cahoots. An' beln' bo's so porful, , Ef ever I'm took pick '8 1 say, I want old Doctor, 'N I want him mlddlin' quickl F my time's come, naught kin save me; Ef It ain't, why then old Doc 'TJU fetch me round a-hummln' An' gritty ez a rock. ETA WlLBEB MOOlAMOir. OiN THE INCA E0ADS. Up the Andes to the Highest'HaTisa ble Waters on the Globe. PAYEHERTS OF SLABS OP STOKE. Bridges Swnnj on Kawhide Eopes That Have basted for ices. DEATH FOR EEYEAI.IXCr A SECEET COBRSSFOXDEXCE OT THB PISPATCH1 On the Wing in South Ameeica, August 11. The time has come to leave this remote republic and seek the world once more. There is no way out of it but that the early Spaniards used, up, by zigzig windings, from the sequestered valley of La Paz to the Andean plateau and thence, fol lowing the old highway of the Incas among the mountains, to Lake Titicaca. Small steamers ply between Chililaya, a village on the Bolivian border ot the lake, and Puno, on the Peruvian side. Chiliiaya is 56 miles from La Paz and a diligencia runs between, making the round trip only once a week, timed so ns to meet the regular arrival and departure ofthe steamers. The diligencia is a lumbering coach ofthe oldest "Concord" pattern, resembling an ark more than a carriage, with four seats inside ol it and several perches on the top, which by tight squeezing can be made to accommo date from 15 to 20 passengers. The fare one way is So lor each person. This, however, does not include luggage, all of which mut be .vent the day be ore to the coach office, where it is dnly weighed and charged for at an average ot S3 per hundred pounds, and is then sent on ahead in freight wagons, when it is not forgotten. ONLY TTVO VEHICLES. Though the start is made promptly at 7 o'clock, a very early hour in this country, the accommodating officials will not send the coach to your door, and therefore the mountain must go to Mahomet. Besides the stage there is another vehicle that may be hired lor private use, if one's purse is long enough. It is c tiled a "Tillbury," from the name of the English manu acturer, and is an odd cross between a double phaeton and a Black Maria. A day's ue of it costs any where between $30 and S100, according to the mood ofthe owner and the exigencies of the occasion. If your need is great, such, for instance, as having to convey an in valid, the highest price will invariably be charged. Think of being whirled over the Andes, sitting at ease in a carriage! We have crossed and recrossed thrse mighty mount ains in many places, generally on mule back, over perilous trails; und I am glad to tell you that though grand and pictur esque from any point of view, the Andes cau nowhere be seen with greater satisfac tion than right here on the easy road be tween La Paz and Chililaya. When the plateau is reached at last, the view spread out beneath is more magnificent than tongue or pen can adequately describe. KOASS OF THE INCAS. This vast Andean plain, of which Lake Titicaca is supposed to be apart, lies at a mean elevation of 13,000 leet, and is 180 leagues long by 35 Ieagnes wide a Bolivian league being nearly three miles and a half, instead of three, miles according to the meas urement ef North America. The broad road is excellent, though not even drained, being neither wet nor dusty, and hard as it mac adamized. Part of it leads along the ancient highway of the Incas, a wonderful work, which still endures in good condition though constructed nearly 800 years ago. Perhaps the best monuments left by those people of the past are their caminos reales, or "royal, roads." which extended from Cuzco, tbe capital, to tbe remotest parts of their empire, une or them Jed to tbe sea and the other, which is followed to La Paz, ran along the crest of these Cordilleras, the combined length ol both with their branches being about 4,000 miles. Says a recent writer: "In contemplating them we know not which to admire most, the scope of their projectors, the power and constancy of the Incas who carried them to completion, or tbe patience of the people who constructed them under all the ob stacles resulting from tbe topography of the country and from imperfect means of execu tion. They built these roads in deserts, among moving sands reflecting the fierce rays of a tropical sun; they broke down rocks, graded precipices. leveled hills and filled up valleys, without the assistance of powder or instruments of iron; they crossed lakes, marshes and rivers, and without the aid ot the compass followed direct courses in forests of eternal shade. They did, in short, what even now, with all ot modern knowledge and means of action, would be worthy of the most powerful nations on the globe." PAVEMENTS AND BRIDGES. In ascending mountains too steep to ad mit of grading, broad steps were cut into the solid rocks, while the ravines and hol lows were filled With heavy embankments flanked with parapets and planted with shade trees and fragrant shrubs. The "royal roads" were from 18 to 25 feet wide and paved with immense blocks of stone. At regular distances tambos were erected for tbe accommodation of travelers. Where rivers were to be crossed strong cables of twisted rawhide were stretched from one bank to the othe- something after the style of the great Suspension bridge at Niagara. Poles were lashed across trans versely, covered with branches, and these were covered with earth and stones so as to form a solid floor. A kind of wicker balus trade was made by extending other cables along the sides, which were interwoven with branches of trees. Some ot these old bridges still exist which are known to be over 400 years old. Another way, yet used in many parts of South America for crossing deep ravines and mountain torrents, was to sus pend a wicker-work basket, or car, on a single cable, to be drawn by ropes Irom side to side. THE POSTAL SERVICE. To these conveniences were added a sys tem of posts, by which messages and small packages could be transmitted from one ex tremity of tbe Incas' domain to the other, in an incredibly short time, though the Indians of those days possessed no domestic animals fleeter of foot than man. The serv ice of these posts was performed by run ners, stationed in small buildings erected at easy distances all along the principal roads. Many of these post-houses may still be seen, and as a proof that these runners were swift, though the course was often rugged, it is asserted that fresh fish caught one day on the seacoast, used lo be eaten by the Inca the next day in Cuzco, more than 300 miles away! The messengers were especially trained for the service,and wore a distinctive uni orm. A few years ago, when the Government extended' the Inca road beyond La Paz iu the direction of Obrajcs, the work was be guu with religious ceremonies, presided over by the bishop, assisted by the priests, the president, the diplomatic corps and other prominent personages. In cutting through a hill close to the city, the workmen came upon a number of crushed and buried houses, skeletons, household utensils, etc, doubtless tbe work ot an earthquake at some forgotteu period. Along this wonderful mountain highway the degenerate descend ants of those who built it are everywhere to be seen, with faces which, in shape and feature, closely resemble those on tbe an cient water-jars duj irom the tombs. HEAD 'WABai, FEET COLS. It is always cold at tbis altitude, and the Indians have a queer way of warming them selves by piling all available covering upon their heads, leaving the lower extremities entirely bare. Though nature has provided each with a heavy shock of coarse hair like a mane, he draws a knitted cap tightly over his head and ears, and puts a folded blanket ou top of that. Both men and women perambulate the earth with naked feet. Alternating with acres of stones are fields of barlev. now vellowand ready for cutting. though at thif altitude the stalks are head-1 less. Other fields, freshly planted or just being plowed, are covered with clouds of blackbirds, industriously searching for worms and seeds. Women and children are diguing potatoes that resemble chestnuts in size and color. There is considerable snow in places between the potato hills, bat as those tiny bulbs are all to be frozen before being considered fi,t to eat, an extra frost biting will not make much difference. Somewhere toward noon we stop at a way side tambo for breakfast, an adobe casa of comfortable size, the corral lor mules and cattle in front, all enclosed, like a fort, within walls of adobe as bigb as the house. It consists of cabbage soup, hot, though watery; beef, for which dentists ought to pay a premium, with fried eggs on top; butteries bread, a trifle sour, and coffee; each dish served with ceremony in separate courses, to the tune of a dollar a head. Displayed for sale, on shelves around tho dining room walls, are tin cans of salmon, sardines, pickles, etc., and bottles of native beer, cognac and other liquors, for the bene fit of those who are willing to pay about ten prices for inferior articles. POTOSI'S TVEALTH OP SILVEB. Midway between Illimani and Sorrato, those stupendous sentinels that stand one at each end of this journey, rises Potosi, so famous in the past lor its silver mines, whose lesser height attains something over 21,000 feet. It is said that tbe marvelous richness of Potosi was first discovered by au accident. Early in the sixteenth century, an Indian named Diego Icualca, was chas ing a vicuna on the mountain side, when, happening to slip on the steep ascent, he seized hold of a shrub to steady himself. The bush tore loose from the ground, and what was the Indian's amazement to see a quantity of pure silver clinging to its rootsl Knowing the rapacity of the Spaniards, who had already possessed themselves of the country and were searching it for treasure, he determined to keep bis find a secret. Un fortunately, however, he'hnd.one confidant, a slave, who betrayed him. So tbe mine very soon became public property, and though during the next three centuries more tban $2,904,600,000 were taken out of it, neither Diego nor his descendants realized penny of that prodigious amount. That the modern Indians are not guilty of the indiscretion of telling their secrets, may be inferred from the comparatively recent case of Senora Poso, who lives near the foot of Potosi, and a faithful peon whom she had befriended. Desiring to show his gratitude to his benefactress, he revealed to ber the fact, long known among all the Indians of the neighborhood, but zealously kept to themselves, that on a remote part of her estate was a gold mine, of whose existence she had never heard. While on the way thereto, accompanied by the senora and her agent, the Indian suddenly fell dead at their feet, shot through the heart by an un known hand. About 4 p. 31. this stage of our journey is concluded by the arrival at Chililaya, as desolate and uninviting a village as one cau readily find. Itsjirincipal street, straggling for some distance along the lake, is exposed to the chilly winds that constantly sweep that highest navigable body of water on the globe, and colder airs blown from the An dean snow fields on the other side. The place is important only as the western ter minus of the Titicaca steamers that connect with the railway running across Peru to the sea. Fannie B. Waed. DKIUKirfG SEEB FEOJI GLASS. Tvro Wise German Professor Hnve Gone Into Danle on tbs Sabjrer. A spirited contest has for some while been waged in Germany between the beer-glais and the stone-mug factories. Dr. Schultze clai ms to have established, by a very ex tended series of experiments, that beer, by as little as five minutes' standing in any glass, even when cold and in the dark, will be materially affected both in taste and odor. Hs sustains his claims by trial tests con firmed by some 100 persons. The change, he thinks, is due to the slight solubility ot tbe glass suostance in tbe beer. This is of further importance from the Tact that the glass most generally used contains lead, which has been added for its better and more easy manipulation in manufacture. From a series of experiments made upon glasses obtained from the leiding sources ot supply, he determined that one cubic centi meter of beer, by five minutes' standing in glass, dissolved 6 to 2G ten millionths ot the glass substance containing 0 to 48 thousand millionths of a milligram of lead-oxide. This small quantity of glass substance he claims aflecti the taste of the beer, and, If it also contains this lead, renders it objection able irom sanitary reasons. He gives the 'bllowing comparative scale of fitness lor beer vessels as made out of different material: All lead-glazed mugs are to be wholly excluded. Covered, salt glazed stone mugs he ranks as good, but tin ones as better, and gold-lined silver mugs as the best. Hard lead-free glass he ranks as poor, butsolt-pressed glass as still poorer, and poorest of all lead glass, either pressed or blown. Porcelain, even that made at Meissen, he thinks not serviceable. Wood mugs are doubtful on account ot the pitch varnisb, which, even it it should not flavor the beer, yet is liable to induce loss of sleep and headache. Dr. Schultze's conclusions have been dis cussed and disputed by Processor Linke, ha claiming that, according to Scbultzs's own showing, 20,800 litres of beer out ot tbe worst kind ol lead beer glass must be drunk within fifty-seven years, in order to take in even one milligram of lead-oxide into the body of one drinting a litre of beer a day. From an average quality of lead glass, it would take 74,000 litres and two hundred and three years to arcomplish the same. Moreover, he claims tnat Schultze's lead quantities are seventy-six tinie3 too great, and that therefore it would require that much longer time to imbibe tbat small amount of lead. HE SWALLOWED THE BULLETS. A Wise Fowl That Rcfnsed to be Shot Dead Died of Djspepsln. New York Sun. J "I've had some very queer experiences with owls," said the lame commuter. "There was one owl that came about my grounds that we killed in a remarkable manner. He invariably kept his head tuck right out at us, so that it was impossible for us to shoot ' him anywhere but iu the face. And he seemed to like that sort of thing, for ' if the bullet flew a little too high or too low, ' he would simply raise or lower his head, as the case might be.and catch it in his mouth. I sat out on my back porch and wasted a lot of bullets on that fellow, just to amuse him. "Well, I kept pegging away at him and he began to grow thin. Finally, while I was shooting at him one evening, he toppled off the tree, stone dead." "That last shot took effect, I suppose" said the little man with the chin whitker. "No, sir; not at all. That confounded owl had got so much shot in him as to in terfere with his digestive organs. He stood it as long as he conld, and then died ot dyv pepsia. It's queer about owls." THE SMALLEST SCHOOL. A Cpnnecilcul Itlnn ! Teaching Six Pupils for a Very He ivy Sul.iry. Three little boys, three little girls, and a teacher comprise the school of District No. 9 iu the town of East Windsor. Without doubt tbis is the smallest school in Connec ticut, and perhaps lew can be found any where to beat it. The schoolhouse is a good and com.ortable one. It has seats andSj desks to accommodate 24 pupils; andY benches for as many more. Twenty-seven ' pupils were registered in the school in 1878- 9. In 1889-90 the number had dropped to ' the unlucky thirteen, with an average at tendance ol 4.8 in winter and 6.7 in summer. On the first Monday of the present month the school began with three pupils. Iu the course of a week three more appeared, and tbe register was thus doubled. The teacher ol tbis little school is Henry F. Fletcher. He is a young man, apparently not over 20, and this Is his first, experience as a teacher. His school is equally divided between the sexes. With pardonable pride be informs the visitor that when all are present he hit a school of 16 classes. He receives tha munificent salary ol J6 CO a week. J ,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers