Tarl ??7fS "' V' IS that I would never quarrel -with you again?" "You said , tut " "But you did not expect me to keep my word," said Keyork, slipping from his seat ou the table witi considerable agility and suddenly standing close before her. "And do you not yet know that wheu I say a thins I do it. and that when I have got a thine I keep it?" "So far as the latter point is concerned, I have nothing to say. But you need not be so terribly impressive; and unless you arc going to back your word, by which you seem to set such store, and quarrel with me, you need not look at me so fiercely." Keyork suddenly let his voice drop to its deepestand most vibrating ker. "I onlv want ou to remember this," he said. "You are not an ordinary woman, as I am not an ordinary man, and the experi ment we are making together is an alto gether extraordinary one. I have told you the truth. I care for nothing but my indi vidual self, and I seek nothing but prolon gation of life. It you endanger the suc cess of the great trial again, as you did to day, and if it laiis, I will never forgive you. You will mate an enemy of me, and you will regret it while you live, and longer than that, perhaps. So long as tou keep the compact, there is nothing I will not do to help you, nothing within the bounds of your imagination. Aud I can do much. Do you understand V" "I understand that you are afraid of losing my hclo." '"That is it of losing your help. I am not afraid of losing you in the end." Unorna smiled rather scornfully at first, as she looked down upon the little man's strange f3ce and gazed fearlessly into his eyes. But as she looked the smile faded, and the color slowly sank from her face, until she was very pale. And as she felt lierself losiug courage before something wnich she could not understand, Keyork's eyes grew brighter and brighter till tney glowed like drops ot molten metal. A sound as of many voices wailing in agony rose and trembled and quavered in the air. "With a wild cry, Unorna pressed her hsnds to her ear' and fied toward the entrance. "You are very nervous to-night," ob served Keyork, as he opened the door. Then he went silently down the stairs by her side and helped her into the carriage, w hich had been waiting since his retnrn. CHAPTEK XL A month had passed since the day on which Unorna had first seen the "Wanderer, and since the evening when she had sat so long in conversation with Keyork Arabian. The snow lay heavily on all the rolling moorland about Prague, covering everything up to the very gates of the black city, and within all things were as hard and dark and frozen as ever. The sun was still the sun, no doubt, high above the mist and gloom which he had no power to pierce, but no man could say that he had seen him in that month. At long intervals, indeed, a faint, rose-colored glow touched the high walls of the Hrauschin and transfigured for an in stant the short spires ot the unfinished Cathedral, hundreds of feet above the ice bound mer and the sepulchral capital; sometimes, in the dim afternoons, a little gold filtered through the heavy air and tinged the snow steeples of the Teyn Church, and yellowed the stately tower ot the town hall; but that was all, so far as the moving throngs of silent beiDgs that filled the streets could see. The very air men breathed seemed to be stifiening with damp cold. For that j not the glorious winter of our own dear 2orth, where the whole earth is a jewel of gleaming crystals hung between two heavens, between the heaven of the day and the heaven of the night, beautiful alike in sun shine and in starlight, under the rays of the moon, at evening and again at dawn, where the pines and hemlocks are as forests of plumes powdered thick with dust of silver; where the black ice rings like a deep-toned bell beneath the heel of the sweeping skate the ice that yen may follow 100 miles if you have breath and strength; where the Largest voice rings musically among the icicles and the snow-laden boughs where the quick jingle of sleish bells lar off on the smooth, deep track, brings to the listener the vision 01 our own merry father Christ mas, with snowy beard and apple cheeks, and peaked fur cap, and mighty gauntlets, and hampers and sacks full ot tovs and good things, and true Northern jollity; where all is young and fresh and free, where eyes are bright and cheeks are red, and hands are stronjr and hearts are brave, where children laugh and tumble in the diamond dust of the dry, driven snow, where men and women know what happiness can mean, where the old are as the giantpines, green, silver-crowned landmarks in the human forest, rather than as dried, twisted, sapless trees, fit only to be cut down and burned in that dear Xorth to which our hearts and memories still turn for re freshment, unoer Indian suns, and out of the hot splendor of calm Southern seas. The winter ot the black city that spans the frozen Moldau is the winter of the grave, dim as a perpetual alternoon in a land wnere no lotus ever grew, cold with lho unspeakable frigidness of a reeking air that thickens as oil, but will not be frozen, melancholy as a stony island of deatu in a lifeless sea. A month had gone by, and in that time the love that had so suddenly taken root in Unorna's heart had grown to great propor tions, as love will, when, being strong and real, it is thwarted and repulsed aterery turn. For she was not, loved. She had de stroyed the idol and rooted out the memory of it, but she could not take its place. She had spoken the truth when she had told Keyork that she would be loved for herself, or not at all, and that she would use neither her secret arts nor her rare gifts to manu facture a semblance when she longed for a reality. Almost daily she saw him. As in a I'rcjm he came to her and sat by her side, li- ur alter hour, talking of many things, :.lni, apparently, and satisfied in her so ciety, but strangely apathetic and indiffer ent, ifever once, in those many days, had she seen his pale face light up with pleas ure, nor his deep eyes show a gleam of in terest; never had the tone of his voice been disturbed in its even monotony, never had the touch of his hand when they met and parted, felt the communication of the thrill that ran through hers. It was very bitter, lor Unorna was proud with the scarcely reasoning pride of a law less, highly gifted nature, accustomed to be obeyed, and little used to bending under any inflnencc She brought all the skill she could command to her assistance; she talked to him. she told him of herself, she sought his confidence, Ehe consulted him on every matter, she attempted to fascinate his imagination with tales of a life which even he could never have seen she even sang to him old tongs and snatches of wonderful melodies, which, in her childhood, had still survived the advancing nave of silence that has over whelmed the Bohemian, 'people within the memory of living man, bringing a change into the daily life and temperament of a whole nation, which is perhaps unpar alleled in any history. lie listened, he smiled, he showed a faint pleasure aud a great understanding in all these things, and he came back day after day to talk and listen again. But that was'all. She felt that she could amuse him without charm ing him. , And Unorna suffered terribly. Her cheek grew thinner and her eyes gleamed with sudden fires. She was restless, and her beautiful hands, from seeming to be carved in white marble, began to look as though they were chiseled out of delicate, transparent alabaster. She slept little and thought much, and if she did not sbed tears, it was because she was too strong to weep for pain and too proud toweep from aiiger and disappointment. And yet her l evolution remained firm, for it was part and parcel of her inmost self, and was guarded by pride on one hand and an unalterable be lief in fate on the other. To-day, they sat together, as they lad so often sat, among the flowers and the trees in the vast observatory, she in her tall, carved chair, and he upon a lower seat before her. They had been silent lor some minutes. It was not yet noon, but it might have been early morning in a Southern island, bo soft was the light, so freshly scented the air, so peaceful the tinkle of the tiny fountain. Unorna's expression was sad, eg the gazed in silence at the man she loved. There was something gone from his face, she thought, since she had first seen him, and it was .to bring that something back that she would give her life and her soul if she could. Suddenly her lips moved and a sad melody trembled in the air. Unorna sane, almost as though singing to herself. The "Wan derer's deep eyes met hers, and he listened. "When in life's heaviest hour Grief crowds upon the heart One wondrous prayer 'My memory repeats. The harmony of the living words Is full ot strength to boat There breathes in them a holy charm Pass understanding. Then, as a burden from my soul, DouDt rolls a war And I believe believe In tears And all is light so light! She ceased, and his eyes were still upon her, calm, thoughtful, dispassionate. The color began to rise in her cheek. She looked down and tapped upon the carved arm of the chair with an impatient gesture familiar to her. "And what is that oae prayer?" asked the Wanderer. "I knew the song long ago, but I have never guessed what that magic prayer can be like." "It must be a woman's prayer I cannot tell you what it is." "And arc you so sad to-day, Unorna? What makes you sing that song?" "Sad? No I am not sad," she answered with an effort. "But the words rose to my lip and so 1 sang." "They are pretty words," said her com panion, almost indifferently. "And you have a very beautiful voice," he added thoughtfully. "Have 1?" I have been told so some times." "Yes. I like to hear you sing, and talk, too. My life is a blank I do not know what it would be without you." "I am little enough to to those who know me," said Unorna, growing pale and draw ing a quick breath. "You cannot sav that. You are not little tome." There was a long silence. He gazed at the plants, andhis gaze wandered from one to the other, as though he did not see them, being lost in meditation. His voice had been calm and clear as ever, but it was the first time he had ever said so much, and Unorna's heart stood still, half fire and half ice. She could not speak. "You are very much to me," he said again, at last "Since I have been in this place a change has come over me. I seem to myself to be a man without an .object, with out so much as a real thought. Keyork tells me that there is something wanting, that the something is a woman, and that I ought to love. I cannot tell. I do not know what love is, and I never knew. Per haps it is, the absence of it that makes me what I am a body and an intelligence with out a soul. Even the intelligence 1 begin to doubt. What sense has there ever been in all my endles3 wanderings? "Why have I been in every place, in every city? "What went I forth to see? Not even a reed shaken by the windl I have spoken all languages, read thousands ot books, known men in every land and for what? It is asthoughlbadoace had an object in it all, though I know that there was none. But I have realized the worthlessness of my life since I have been here. Perhaps you have shown it to me, or helped me to see it. I cannot tell. I ask myself again and again what it was all for, and I ask in vain. I am lonely, indeed, in the world, but it has been, my own choice. I remember that I had friends once when I was younger, but I cannot tell neat 'has become of one of' them. They wearied me, perhaps, in those days, and the weariness drove me from my own horns. For I have a home, Unorna, and I fancy that when old age gets me at last I shall go there to die, in one of those old towers by the Northern Sea. 1 was born there, and there my mother died and my father before I knew them it is a sad place! Meanwhile, I may have 30 years, or 40, or even more, to live. Shall I go on living this wandering, aimless life? And if not, what shall I do? Love, says Keyork Arabian, who never loved anything but himself, but to whom that suffices, for it passes the love of woman." "That is true, indeed," said Unorna in a low voice. "And what he says might be true, also, if I were capable of loving. But I feel that I am not. I am as incapable of that as of anything else. I ought to despise myself, and yet I do not. I am perfectly contented, and if I am not happy I at least do not real ize what unhappiness means. Am I not al ways of the same even temper?" "Indeed you are." She tried not to speak bitterly, bnt something in her tone struck him. "Ah! I see! You despise me for my apathy. Yes, you are quite right. Man is not made to turn idleness into a fine art nor to manufacture contentment out of bis own culpable indifference! It is despicable and yet here I am." "I never meant that!" cried Unorna with sudden heat. "Even if I had, vt hat right have I to make mvself the judge of your lileY" "The right of friendship?" answered the "Wanderer, very quietly. "You are my best friend, Unorna." Unorna's anger rose within her. She re membered how in that very place, and but a month earlier, she bad offered Israel Kafka her friendship, and it was as though a heavy retribution were now meted out to her for her cruelty on that day. She remembered his wrath and his passionate denunciations of friendship, his scornful refusal, his savage attempt to conquer his will, his fail ure and his defeat She remembered how. she had taken her revenge, delivering him over in his sleep to Keyork Arabian's will. She wished that, like him, she could escape from the wound of the word in a senseless lethargy of bod v and mind. She knew now what he had suffered, for she had suffered it all herself. He, at least, had been tree to speak his mind, to rage and storm and struggle. She must sit still and hide her agony, at the risk of losing all. She bit her white lips and turned her head away, and was silent "You are my best friend," the "Wanderer repeated in his calm voice, and every sylla ble pierced her like a needle. "And "does not friendship give rights which, ought to be used? If, as I think, Unorna, you look upon me as an idler, as a worthless being, as a man without as much as the shadow1 ot a purpose in the world, it is hut natural that you should despite me a little, even though you mav be fond of me. Do vou not see that?" ' Unorna stared at him with an odd ex pression for a moment "Yes,-1 am fond of you," she exclamed, almost harshly. Then she laughed. He seemed not to notics her tone. "I never knew what friendship was be fore," he went on. "Of course, as I said, I had friends when I was little more than a boy boys and vounc men like mv self and our friendship came to this, that we laugnea una leastea ana hunted together, and sometimes even quarreled, and cared little, thought even less. But in those days there seemed to be nothing between that and love and love I never understood, that I can remember. But friendship like ours, Unorna, was never dreamed of among us. Such friendship as this, when I often think that I receive all and give nothing in re turn." Again Unorna laughed, so strangely that the sound of her own voice startled her. "Why do you laugh like that?" he asked. "Because what you say is so unjust to yourself," she answered, nervously and scarcely seeing him where he sat "You seem to think it is all on your side. And yet, I just told you that I was fond of you." "I think it is a fondness greater than friendship 'that we feel for each other," he said, presently, thrusting the probe of a new hope into the tortured wound. "Yes?" she spoke faintly, with averted face. "Something more a stronger tie, a closer bond. Unorna, do you believe inathe mi gration of the soul throughout ages, from one body to another?" "Sometimes," she succeeded inlaying. "I do not believe it," he continued. "But I see well enough how men may, since I have known you. "We have grown so inti mate in these" few weeks, we.seem to under stand each other bo whol!y,7with so little effort, we spend such happy, peaceful hours together every day, tljat I can almost fancy our two selve's having been together through a whole lifetime in some former state, living together, thinking together. Inseparable from birth and full of an instinctive, mutual understanding. I do not know whether that seems an exaggeration to you or not. Has the same idea ever crossed your mind?" She said something, or tried to say some thing, but the words were inaudible; Ire in terpreted them as expressive of assent and went on, id" a mnsing tone, as though talk ing quite as much to himself as to her. "And that is the reason why it seems as though we must be more than friends, though we have known each other so short a time. Perhaps it is too much to sav." He hesitated and paused. Unorna breathed hard, not daring to think of what might be coming next He talked so calmly, in Buch an easy tone it was impossible that he could be mating love. She remembered the vibra tions in his voice when, a month ago, he had told her his story. She remembered the in flection of the passionate cry he had uttered when he had seen the shadow of Beatrice stealing between them; she knew the ring of his speech when "he loved, for she had heard it It was not there now. And yet, the effort not to believe would have been too great for her strength. "Nothing that yon could say would be " she stopped herself "would paiD me," she added desperately, in the attempt to com plete the sentence. He looked somewhat surprised, and then smiled. "No. I shall never say anvthing, nor do anything, which could give you pain. What I meant was this. I feel toward you and with you, as I can fancy a man might feel to i dear sister. Can you understand that?" In spite of herself she started. He had but just said that he would never give her pain. He did not guess what cruel wounds he was inflicting now. "You are surprised," he said, with intol erable self-possession. "1" cannot wonder. I remember to have very often thought that there are tew forms of sentimentality more absurd than that which deceives a man into the idea that he can with impunity play at being a brother to a young and beautiful woman. I have always thought so, and I suppose that in whatever remains of my in dolent intelligence I think so still. But in telligence is not alxays so reliable as in stinct I am not young enough, nor foolish enough either, to propose that we should swear eternal brother and sisterhood or perhaps I am not old enough who can tell? Yet I feel how perfectly safe it would be for either of us." The steel had been thrust home and could go no further. Unorna's unquiet temper rose, at his quiet declaratioc of his absolute security. The color came again to her cheek, a little hotly, and though there was a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke, yet her eyes flashed beneath the drooping lids. "Are you sure it would be so safe?" she asked. "For vou, of course there can be no dan ger possible," he said, in perfect simplicity of good faith. "For me well, I have said it. I cannot imagine love coming near me in any shape, by degrees or unawares. It is a strange defect in my nature but I am glad of it, since it makes this pleasant life possible." "And why should you suppose that there isnutlanger forme?" asked Unorna. with a quick glance and a silvery laugh. She wds recovering her self-possession. "For you? "Why should there be? How could there be? No woman ever loved me then why should you? Besides there arc a thousand reasons, one better than the other." "I confess, I would be glad to hear a few of them, my friend. You were good enough just now to call me young and beautiful. You are young, too, and certainly not repul sive in appearance. You are gilted, you have led an interesting life indeed, I can not help laughing when I think how many reasons there are for my falling in love with you. But you are very reassuring you tell me there is no danger." I am willing to be lieve." To be Concluded Next Sunday. AN ANCIENT WINE MACHINE. Contrivance the Egyptian Priests Used to Deceive the People. An ancient contrivance is described by Hero which involves considerable ingenuity. It was probably used by the Egyptian priests to delude the people into the belief that they could change water into wine, or cause different liquors to How at will from the same spout. Now adays we should prob ably call it an auto matic bartender, be cause it is supposed to operate so as to give back a particular kind of wine in consideration of a coin or other object of certain weight dropped into a receptacle. It consists of a large jar divided by two partitions into three compartments, as the picture shows. Closing the mouth of the bottle is a sieve, and through this sieve extend three little tnbes, one entering each compartment At the bottom of the vessel is a cylinder which commuuicates with the three compartment; but the openings into, the cylinder are located at diflercnt places. In the cylinder is a tube also having three openings in it But these are so disposed that only one opening at a time in the inserted tube can coincide with a cylinder openinc, so that if the inserted tube is tiartlv rotated it will let the liquid flow out of ,pnc compartment; if J ii ia lumcu a nine lurmer it win lei me liquid in the next compartment flow out, and if it is turned a little further still it will allow the last compartment to empty itself, but will not allow the liquids in all three compartments to escape simultaneous ly. Now on the end of the inserted tube is carried a little box into which the leaden weight or coin which turns the tube mav be dropped. And also connected with the inserted tube is a counterweight which tends to return it back to its original position, and so shut off the flow entirely, when there is no weight in the cup. The mode of operation is quite ingenious. The three little pipes in the neck of the bot tle are closed by the fingers of the operator who pours a certain kind of wine directly into the mouth and upon the slieve. He then uncovers one of the little tubes, which acts as a vent to allow the escape of air from one of the compartments, so that the wine can enter it The other tubes being closed will prevent the escape of air from the other "ompartments, and hence the wine will not flow into them. By uncovering each tube in turn, the three compartments are filled. Now sup pose the three compartments to be filled with different liquors; all that the user has to do is to drop iuto the little box or cup a weight sufficient to turn the tube around enough to carry the opening in it to such a position as will allow the liquid to flow out of the proper compartment It he wants another liquor he puts in a heavier weight PHYEICIANS VEESTJS DBTGGISTS. Between the Two Belligerents the Poor Pa tient Tares Badly. St Louis Chronicle. A prominent physician: "There is a very curious warfare going on between druggists and doctors. The druggists have been cutting the doctors' throats, figurative ly speaking, by usurping their functions and prescribing for every ailment of their customers, from a stomach ache to spinal meningitis. "The doctors, in revenge, have taken to prescribing patent medicines. The result is that the occupation of the prescription clerk is almost gone, and nine-tenths of the drug store's profit lies in prescriptions. The extent to which doctors are using patent medicines is something astonishing." Tweedledum and Twoedledec. Eomervllle Journal. The difference between modesty and bash fulness is, of course, that you are modest, while the other fellow is Tush'ful and how ridiculous he looks! . Tins PITTSBURG DISPATCH.' SNAP SHOTS AT A DOG. i Mr. and Mrs. Fielding Photograph Thoir Candidate for a Show. TROUBLE WITH A FLASH LIGHT. A Terrific Explosion Results in an At tack From the firemen, , TH2 PET- GETS THE WORST OP IT rWBITTEK POB THE DISPATCH.! There is a valuable dog in our family, and he is to be one of the principal objects of admiration at the coming bench show. I say this because I do not wish to contradict my wife. He is her dog and I am her hus band, and we both mind her pretty well when we manage to find out what she is driving at Personally, I know him to be an ill favored beast of defective intelligence and miscellaneous ancestry. "We took him into the country last summer, on accqunt of his distinguished 'merit as a watchdog, and he barked continuously for 13 nights, though nothing else of a disagreeable nature oc curred. On the 14th he held his peace, while a tramp entered our house through the back window, and might have carried away everything we possessed if he hadn't at tempted to refresh himself with the contents of a pint flask of ammonia, which we used lor the alleviation of mosquito bites. The noise which he made trying to get his breath woke up everybody in the house except the dog. Taking the Dog's Picture. This remarkable animal bears a general resemblance to an Irish setter, but it is only because that part of his nature is nearest Beauty Taivned in the Camera. the surface. The likeness will not deceive anybody who is not strongly prejudiced in his favor. However, he will be entered in that class; and if he doesn't win a prize the judges will do well to absent themselves trotn the city until the excitement blows over. Maude calls him Beauty. I like the name; it is a wholesome and necessary re minder that anybody who criticizes the brnte's personal appearance will wish he hadn't It occurred to Maude that when Beauty had won the prize all the news papers would want fo print his picture. This was intended as a hint that we ought to have him photographed "br "mugged," as they say at police headquarters. To oblige her I had a friend bring his camera to the house, and. we took a snap-shot at Beauty. Unfortunately he yawned just at the criti cal moment, and we obtained nothing but a misty view of his larynx, with a few teeth in the foreground. It "Was a Faithful Likeness. My friend understands the photograph business as well as a professional, and when he presented the proof of this picture to Maude he tried to convince her that the pose was easy and natural, and the expres sion characteristic and amiable. He said that he considered it quite unnecessary to have another sitting; he was sure that all Beauty's Iriends would be greatly pleased with the portrait Having thus done his duty as a representative of the photographic profession, he suggested that if Maude ab solutely refused to be satisfied with this triumph of his art it might be well to try the flash-light next time. Perhaps something sudden and suprising, like the explosion of flash powder under his nose, miebt give to Beauty's expression that appearance of animation which was pos sibly the one thing lacking in the first pic ture". We decided tn try the flash lieht. A i luxhlighl. 1'iclufe. Maude posed Beauty in a big chair, and she bestowed an amount of painstaking atten tion upon him equal to that which she would have given to her own toilet if she had been about to display it in the presence of her bitterest enemies When she had put him in position she withdrew iuto the next room, because she knew that the flash powder would frighten her halt to death. It was so dreadfully like a flash of lightning. Beauty Made His Escape. "While she was escaping I carefully dark ened the apartment, producing a gloom so deep that I fell over several pieces of furni ture in endeavoring to , reach a place of saiety while my friend was preparing to ig nite the powder. He was rather slow in getting it to burn, and when it finally blazed up we secured a fine picture of the chair in which Beauty had been sitting, but he, meanwhile, had wandered away. I tnrned up the gas and hastily tummoned Maude, who stumbled into the room with her handkerchief over her eyes, asking in nervous tones if th,it barrio" stuff had gone off. We replied that it had, and Beanty also. A careful search of the room failed to reveal him. Maude hysterically accused us of burning him up with our incendiary flash-powder, but we repelled the accusa tion with scorn. Then she said that Beauty must have escaped through my imbecile carelessness in leaving a door open. I called her attention to the fact that they were nil closed except the one which she .herself had just opened. This led toaiearch of the apartmcut in which Aie had taken refuge; and in a remote corner of it we found Beauty fast asleep. He had just nat urally followed Maude out, and she 'hadn't seen him because she had kent her eyes shut through fear of the flash-powder. Willing to Try It Again.' Jack, "the photographer, was considerably annoyed by this incident. He objected to having his camera made the subject of prac tical jokes. I mollified him somewhat by telling him how glad I was to get a really satis! ac tori picture of that chair. I had 1W - : rNVf ft ' SUNDAY. "FEBRUARY 22, long yearned to possess something which would remind me of that valuable piece of furniture after the dealer from whom I had bought it on the installment plan had taken it away. We chatted thus pleasantly while we pre pared for another attempt to capture Beauty's likeness. Maude enticed him back into the room aud posed him once more. In order to guard against a repetition of the mishap which had brought our previous efforts to naught, we arranged that Maude should conceal herself behind Beauty's pedestal and detain him by encouraging words and a firm grip on his tail. Perhaps her own wild fear of the flash powder prevented her from exercising that soothing effect upon Beauty's spirits which we had hoped tor. She was pretty badly scared and she talked Consolation in the Cellar. to that unfortunate animal in a way that would have undermined the calmness of the sacred gnu. A Period of Suspense. Her agitation was increased when Jack remarked that he proposed to make a sure thing of it by using a double dose of the illuminator; and by the, time all was ready both she and the dog were in a state of nervous excitement bordering on hydro phobia. Jack had brought some sort of an appliance for lighting the powder in an artistic manner, but he had lost it in the con fusion incident to the disappearance of Beauty, so he put the illuminator in the middle of a sheet of paper and touched a match to one corner. The paper smouldered and was unwilling to burn. Several painful minutes elapsed. "Oh, this ruspense is killing me," moaned Maude; and Beauty chipped in with a long, melancholy bowl. ,- ''Can't you do something to precipitate the catastrophe?" said I to Jack. "This confounded paper has gone out," he muttered, fumbling around for a match. Now, Jack was in error regarding that pa per, and he discovered the truth about it just at the moment wben his open hand was directly over the pile of flash powder. There came a dazzling flash, in the light of which I saw Beauty soaring in mid-air with his mouth wide open and fear and agony in his eyes. The next instant I heard him land with a crash on top of the camera, smashing it to fragments. A Period of Excitement. I heard Jack rush to the window yelling fire and murder, and as I made a dash to stop him I ran straight against Maude, who clasped her arms around my neck and scream ed into my left ear. Jack meanwhile bad torn the window open With a crazy notion of cooling his burned hand in the outer air. His howls attracted the attention of a police man on the sidewalk opposite, who saw the smoke of the flash powder pouring out of the window, and at once pulled in an alarm from the nearest box. Half an hour later when the department had extinguished the contlagation in the palm of Jack's hand, and had broken in their impetuous baste the few articles of fur niture which Beauty and the rest of. us hadn't had time to attend to. I discovered Maude and the prize dog seated on the back stairs consoling each other. 'The unfortunate Beauty had encountered a three-inch stream from a chemical engine, which had taken almost nil the outer crust of Irish setter off him, and had made it somewhat difficult to say just what part of a dog-show he was best fitted to adorn. J called Maude's attention to this, and said I feared that his disjointed and frag mentary appearance might subject him to the ridicule of the judges. "If they are human," said she, caressing the unhappy animal, "they will pity and forgive him." Howakd Fielding. HENEY IBVINC5 FIBST NIGHT. 'A Description of the Great Actor in the Be ginning; of His Career. Mr. Alfred Dav.'s, a well-known provin cial actor, relates as follows in Pall Mall Budget the circumstances attending Mr. Henry Irving's "first appearance on any stage," on the opening of the new Lyceum Theater: "As promised, the theater was opened in September, 18513, and on the 29th of that month. Among the names of a care fully selected corps dramatique was that of a youthful novice just 18, 'his first appear ance on any stage,' called Henry Irving. Mailing his first appearance, he spoke the first word in the first piece (played for the first time in Sunderland, I believe), on the first, or opening night, of the new theater, from which he has, by his industry aud genins, worked up to the proud position of the first man in the first theater of the first citv ot the world! How's that for an A 1 record? The words of the speech itself, 'Here's to our enterprise!' have in them almost a prophetic tone of aspiration aud success. "I was compelled to notice the great and most minute care which had been bestowed by our aspirant on the completion ot his costume. In those days managers provided the mere dress. Accessories, or 'proper tics,' as they were called, were found by everv actor. Henry Irving was, from his splendid white hat and feathers to the tips of his shoes, point device, a perfect picture; and, no doubt, had borrowed his authority from some historical picture uf the Louis XIII. period. From the' very ontset of his career, he gave an earnest of that attention to detail, in its inicroi-copic points which has culminated in his being facile princeps among stage directors, and the best arranzer of realistic theatrical pictures in the world." TWO TAXES OF I0BT PICTUBES. Both Found After a Lous Search In Oat of tho Way Placed. Brooklyn Standard-Union . The story is told of a collector of paintings who was very anxious to find a certain pic ture. He sent his agents to all the leading art centers of Europe, but without success. After a time one of bis servants came to him and said: "I have found the picture." "Where did you find it?" was the eager rejoinder of the collector. "In the garret of your house, with the face turned to the wall." A somewhat similar experience has just been made known in New York. Commis sionerof Public Works Gilroy has had his attention caljed to the fact that in the attic of the county Court House, stowed awav with a lot of old lumber, there was a portrait of Commodore Decatur, painted by Sully. This picture is now to bo restored and placed with the pictures of other great men in the Governor's room. A Rich Field for Lawyers. St. Louis Globc-Dcmocrat. ''is there much litigation in Oklahoma?" was asked of a Judge from that Territory. "I never saw anything like it The three Supreme Court Judges also sit as District Judges for the threejudiri.il districts in the Territory, audi have been holding District Court nt Guthrie. 1 opened court nn Sept ember 1, aud have not yet adjourned it. There are now something like 5UU canes on the docket There in't a quarter section of land or a town lot in Oklahoma which hasn't from one" to a dozan claimants." ., , - 1S9L HE DENIED HIS LORD. The Conduct of Peter on the Fate ful Kight When the Savior WAS COXVICTED OF BLASPHEMY. The Insults of the Exultant Rabblo Hid Sot Hurt Half So Sad. QUESTIONS THAT COME HOME TO ALL v iwiUTTKJf ran the dispatch.! Out of Get'nsemaqe goes the band of servants and soldiers back into the city, Christ bound iu the midst of them. "They take Him first to the house of Annas, and Annas sends Him, still bound, to Caiaphas. Caiaphas is the high priest Peter and John follow afar off. John goes in when they come to the house of Caiaphas, aud presently, knowing somebody iu the high priest's house, gets admission for Peter. Jesu3 is in. the inner court.stand ing before Caiaphas. Outside in the outer court is a crowd of servants. The soldiers have gone back, their errand done, return ing to their quarters. These are the'servants j who had gone out with clubs and staves to tne arrest They are cold and tne nignt is chill. They have lighted a fire of charcoal on the stone floor and stand about it talking over the events of the evening. John stands apart beside the door which leads into the inner court where Jesus is. Petr stays with the servants beside the fire and warms himself. The red light flickers upon the bearded faces of the eager talkers, and the long, shifting shadows fall upon the walls. Somebody chances to notice this stranger in their company. Who is this man with the unfamiliar face and the Galilean accent? Where did' he come from? The maid who kept the door, and had let him in, charges him with being a disciple of Jesns of Naza reth. Peter's, heart sinks with fear. All eyes are turned upon him. What will these rough fellows do with him if the truth be known? He hides behind a lie. He denies, saying: "I know not what thou sayest" Peter's Second Denial. But now the examination begins. Caia phas questions Christ He asks Him about His disciples and His doctrine. And in the midst of His answer an officer strikes Him, strikes Him in the face. Again there is a pause while messengers go for wit nesses and to summon the chief priests and scribes. Again, f hey begin to look at Peter out there beside the fire, and to wonder who he is. Again somebody accuses him of be ing a friend of this arrested malefactor, and again he makeshis denial, sealing it this time with an oath. And in a space of silence a sound is heard without a cock crows. But Peter pays no heed. But here are hurrying feet, and there is riding to and fro across the courtyard. The witnesses begin to come. Here Is a com pany of scribes and elders. Again the ex amination proceeds. Witness after witness is examined, but no two agree together. Out they go across the outer court, stopping to answer the questions of the crowd of servants. And Peter listens. witness after witness is examined, Jesus answers nothing. No wrong is proved against Him. At last up rises the high priest and calls the accused to witness aeainst Himself. "I adjure Thee by the living God," he says, "that Thou tell us whether Thou be the Christ, the Sou of God." That was the supreme question. And Christ answers "yes." It is the end! There is no more need of witnesses. The high priest sets the matter before the coun cil. "Ye have heard His blasphemy," he says. "What think ye?" And they an swer: "He is guilty of death." The sentence accordingly is given. Christ must die. The Assertion of Divinity. Jesns Christ was crucified for blasphemy. Here is. the trial so far as such a tragic mockery of justice can be called a trial and here is the sentence of conviction at the end of it. He is to die for blasphemv. He, be ing a man, they say, makes Himself God. And that was the honest truth about His claim. They were quite right about it. Jesus'1 Christ did actually, as His accusers asserted, make Himself equal with God. It is in a hundred places iu the gospels; now. byimplication,now by clear affirmation. tve may take away all the miracles; still, this assertion of divinity .remains. We may take away first one gospel, and then another, and then a third, it matter not which one is left, Jesus of Nazareth is seen claiming eqnality with God. No question of docu ments enters into this couclusion; no posi tions ot modern criticism touch it. So long as any history of the Prophet of Nazareth is left, still may be read this extraordinary claim of His. It is not from the theolo gians that we learn the doctrine of Christ's divinity. He teaches it Himself. The purest soul that ever lived; so holy that the holiest in all the centuries since have been content to fall in humility and reverence belore Hun; so wise, so clear sighted, so true in judgment that after all these ages of progress, after all the profound thoughts of the philosophers, and the teach ings of the saints and the sages, we are still behind Him. The ideal of the worthiest manhood, the one perfect hero, the one im maculate and supreme saint what said He of Himself ? He said such words that again and again men took up stones to stone Him as a blasphemer. He said such words that theShigh priest in horror rent His garments, declaring "He hath spoken blasphemy." He asserted His equality with God. What Must lie Believed. In these days, when so much faith is of Peter's temper slinking, afraid, easily passing into denial, let us make it per fectly plain to our own hearts what we do honestly believe. Jesus of Nazareth was either divine, or else he was not good or not sane. "Eternal Jesus, it is Thyielf who hast bidden us either despise Tnetj or worship Thee. Thou wonldat have us despise Thee as our fellow man, if we will not worship Thee as our God. Gazing on Thy human beauty and listening to Thy words, we can not deny that Thou art the only Son of God Most High. Disputing Thj; "divinity, we could no longer clearly recognize Thy human perfections. Bnt it ourcars hearken to Thy revelations of Thy greatness, our souls have already been won to Thee by Thy truthful ness, by Thy lowliness, and by Thy love. Convinced by these. Thy moral glories, and by Thy majestic exercise of creative and healing power, we believe that Thou hast the words of eternal life. Although in un veiling Thyself before Thy creatures Thou dost stand Irom age to age at the bar of hos tile and sceptical opiniop, yet assuredly from age to age, by the assaults of Thine ene mies no less than in the luith of Thy believ ing church, Thou art justified in Thy say ings and art clear when Thou art judged. OfatruthThoa art the King of Glory, O Christ. Thou art the everlasting Sou of the Father." God, manifested among men, stands here belore the judgment seat of Caiaphas. The judgment is given. It is a sentence of death. Peter's Third Denial. Now Christ is given over to the hands of anybody who chooses to insult Him. Blind folded, and with hands tied behind Him, the servants andmeuialsof the high priest's court make Him the victim of their brutal merriment, striking Him with the palms of their hands and crying out as they dance about Him, "Prophesy now, thou Christ; who is he that smites you?" And they spit iu His face. And when they are weary at last, and have no more brejth for insults nor strength for blows, they lead Him out across the out er court thatthey may tike him to the Gov ernor. Again the tervjuts have been assail ing Peter. Again one and another have accuted him of being of Christ's company. Finally the terrified apostle breaks out with oaths una imprecations declaring that he has never so mucu as seen before this con victed blasphemer of Naztreth. 'And Christ passes by! Outside, the day begins to break, A second time the cock crows. Peter locks up, startled at the memories which that sound brings him, and here i the Mas ter passing by, and hearing it all. Peter looks into the face of Jesus. Jesus turns and looks upon Peter. Here is the apostle who had declared that though all should be offended because of Christ that nigbj, yet would he never be offended. Here is the apostle who had cried out. "Though I die with Thee, yet will I' not deny Thee." And all that show of bravery has come to this. "Simon, Simon, behold Satan bath desired to have you that he may sift you like wheat!" "And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had -said, Before the cock crow,' thou sbalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly." The Betrayal By Follower. It is only an apostle that can betray bis master. It is only an apostle th&t can deny bis Lord. It is only one who has been in Christ's company that can forsake Him. Others maybe hostile. Others may dc their worst against Him. One may 'strike Him in the face, another may revile Him, another may spit upon Him. But who does not know that all this brutality and dvision and insult fell but lightly upon the soul of Christ as compared with the betrayal of Judas, and the denial of Peter, and the for saking of the rest; that hurt unspeakably. It is Christians who to-day "can grieve Christ unspeakably. There are denyings and blasphemings outside, among those who have never taken Christ's allegiance upon them. But it is our disloyalty, who are numbered among His own disciples, which hurts Christ most When we betray Him, setting ourselves upon the side of His enemies; when we deny Him in shame and fear, declaring that we know Him not and are none of His; when we forsake Him, go ing away into the paths of sin, then we re peat the scenes of that night. Judas, the betrayer, Peter, the deuier, sit to-day in Christian congregations. . " "Lord, is it I?" let us each one ask ourselves. Trials come, testing our loyalty and love. It is so hard sometimes to be a Christian! So hard to say a gentle word, when an angry word demands our utterance! So hard to forgive when we are despitefully entreated, wben malicious injury by deed or speeches visited upon us! So hard to be faithful in our Christian service when temptations assail us, and the path of al legiance is encutnberediwith difficulty! So hard to be a real believing Christian in an unbelieving generation, to listen to the words of those who speak against our Mas ter, and to show ourselves openly upon His side! So easv to teep cowardly silence! "Lord, is it 1?" Am I in Judas' place, or Peter's. George Hodges. THE ABM0BED TUBBET3. Engines of Destruction That Can, Be Moved by Three Horses. New York Herald. The atteution of artillerists, and particu larly that of the late Lieutenant Colonel Schumann, of the German army, has been lately directed to the construction of a turret light enough to be transported bv troops in the field. This result,it was found", could be achieved only in part by sacrificing to a certain extent the power of the turret to resist the enemy's hre. Two types of turrets were made and armed with guns of 1.25-inch and 2-inch calibre. The turrets, each of whichcontains a rapid firing gun, areplaced in position iu the infantry trenches. They are transported on specially constructed car- Turret Sunk in Earthworks. riages, which require at the least three horses to draw them where the country is at all rough. They consist ot cylinders 38 inches in diameter, protected by steel armor in the shape of cupolas or cases one inch in thickness. The gunner sits upon a saddle like the seat of a bicvcle. and can turn the tower on its pivot and change the gun ele vation at win. FAIE WOMAN'S LIVING DEATH. The Hard Lot of the Half Dozen Female Life Convicts at Sins Sing. Brooklyn Standard-Union. The thought of thecondition of the woman life convicts is harrowing. No wonder thoughtful minds prefer hanging or even death by the dynamo to life imprisonment The pale, furrowed faces and muffled voices of those women is a sight not easily forgot ten. To prolong a conversation with them would be cruel, unless one was in a position to help them eet out The ope ray of cheer fulness in their desolate, monotonous lives is the consideration which they get from the officials and matron. After a woman has been there 10 or 15 years, she is regarded as a member of the family, so to speak, and if she proves obedient she gets many little at tentions and privileges not granted short term women. t All the life prisoners have two cells at their disposal; one for sleeping, and the other, nicely fitted up with carpet, chairs, pictures and curtains, is used for a sitting room. Outside the cells of the long-term prisoners many potted plants were to be seen. The cleanliness of the cells, tiers, both lower and upper, in male and female prisons was remarkable. CABEHO) A BULLET 30 YEAE3. A Colonel Had One Indeed In HU Nose, hut It I Finally Kemovcd. After carrying a bullet in his face for nearly 30 years, Judge Calvin E. Pratt, of the Supreme Court, who received it in a battle in the war, has at last had it removed, and will hereafter preserve it outside of his person, says the New York Tribune. Judge Pratt was a colonel commanding the Thirty first New York Volunteers when he was wounded at Gaines' Mill, "Va., in 1862. In the course of it he was struck by the bullet in the left cheek an inch below the eye, and it passed back of the nose and lodged under the cheek bone, close to the nose. It was several days before the wound was dressed. For the last 25 years Judge Pratt has had to spray the place where the bullet lodged just above his nostril twice a day, an he has suffered more or less from neuralgia and local irritation. About three- years ago Dr. S. Fleet Spier tiled to remove the bullet, but found that a portion of the bone ot the nose had grown over it and it wonld be dangerous to remove it. The case has been carefully watched, and it was found recently th3t the bone bad degenerated and the bullet could be easily reached and re moved through the nostril. Where the Poor Spend Their Pennies. Boston TraTcller.3 There is a little cake and candy shop op posite a large grammar school in the suburbs of Boston, and the keeper of it told me re cently that on school days be takes about $6 a day, mostly in pennies. He says that the most curious thing about his customers is that the poorer clad the children the more pennies they seem to have for candy. "Oh," explained one, "Marm says dad don't ever give her enough money to bay us clothes, and we might as well have what she does get to spend." She Lived Near Boston. Somcrrlllc Journal. 1 Bjenkcnson has just returned from church in a dim religious frame of mind, and for the instruction of his 4-year-old daughter he told her in graphic style the Biblical story of Jonah and'the whale. Wheu he had finished Ethel looked up in bis face, and eagerly said: "Now; papa, you listen, and see if I can't teliyon a bigger lie than that!" THE FLOWER WORLE Standard Carnations Retire Befoi the Brighter New Ones. NOVELTIES IN FLOEICDLTDEI Soma Wild Shrubs and Trees Desirable i Lawn Decoration. A COLUMN FOR L0VEES OP BEACT rwnrrmt roa the dismtch.3 The old standard carnations look poor an commonplace beside the reach-hued oni now offered by the florists in their fine co lections of plants. Some of these, howeve. owe their beauty and richness of color t the peculiar soil and climate in which the have been grown, and seeds and slips froi the delicately-tinted ones displayed at flora exhibitions do not always produce flowers which are called novelties. They do nc possess the virtue of hardiness, and unles they are cultivated very carefully the soon loose the very qualities for which the were bought It takes many years for a new variet. to become thorougbjy acclimated, as i were, so that it will perpetuat its good Qualities indefinitely. In the hand of a beginner, or. an unfaithful amateui they soon revert to the old commonplac types, and great disappointment follows The beautiful royal purple carnation tw years ago was the novelty of the season, an its beautiful soft violet hue makes it Stan out as a unique specimen of carnation. Tc day it is found in many drawing rooms, an decorates many a stately dinner table. Thi violet carnation marked a new step in th culture ot this plant, for it has not a ting of red or blue apparent The Quaker City is a white, beautifu carnation, which looks well in a drawin room group. It is -a heavy bloomer an blossoms beautifully in the spring. Th Century brings in its brilliant carmine ;o decoration, and by gaslight emits rays o color that cannot "but fascin'te all. "Th Andalusia is a bright, straw-colored fringed yellow carnation that has its appropriate place in a group. To accent the harmon; of shading and coloring there are severa other colored carnations that recomment themselves, such as the Lydij, buff dashet with red, and the deep, ricn yellow Pride o Pentbnrst. AVhen the Black Knight can be inducei to flower more abundantly its deep, velvetj red will be found more generally in tht gardens and drawing rooms. It is now quite an ornament to a room when speci mens :n lull healthful blooms can be oh tained. Kobert Craig stands first amoni the scarlets, and its Uowers are large ano full of vivid richness. It fills all of the re quireinents for a good house carnition, bott iu color, size, prolificness and habits. Eua Spark. TEEY DESEEVE CTTLIUBE. Crlnioms, Day Lilies and Other Koveltlef of Floriculture. IWBITTKjr TOB THE DISPATCH. J The beautiful crimums, plants which mij be made to bloom in either sammer or winter are seldom seen, either in the window gar den or outdoor garden. Yet they are per haps as deserving of culture as many of th other kinds of flowers which are clung tc for years. They can Le made to flower twict a year, but it is not well to attempt to make them do this double duty. The old plac was to dry off the bulbs in fall, but as thej are evergreens the better way is simply tc transplant to large pots or boxes, and keep in the house through winter. Partially withhold water during this resting period, and begin to force them again in spring. The (unkia or day lily is another plant which needs rejuvenation and more wide spread popularity. It is quite a handy plant, and the bulbs should be left in the ground over winter, and the clumps may then be divided in early spring for propoga tion. For pot. culture the bulbs shouldbe taken up iu the fall and rested a month or two, bnt they sbonld not be allowed to get wholly dry and withered. This is to take the place ot the usual winter'3 rest. Then pot and bring them gradually to heat in a way similar to that of hyacinths. Novelties in floriculture means now to a lara extent a return to the old favorite flowers, which at one time reigned supreme. Fashion in Sowers. like fashion in garments, appears to go in circles, and after a certain period the oncefavor.te flowers return to their former popular place. Many of the old flowers ad mired so ninch by our early, parents are now competing successfully for popular favor with the newest productions of the florists' skill. The amaryllises have not lost their early pres tige, and during the coming summer they will be found holding their own among the many other competing plants. In many a conserva tory they reign among tne first, and never fall to attract attention. Better cultivation is bringlog out deeper and rich colors, and this Is probably one reason why old flowers are admired so trenerallv. Thev are -flowers that were admired years ago, but they are oetter, ricner and more varied than tney were in the time of our forefathers. Improved methods of cultivation have changed and en hanced their beauty. The amaryllises that are not need for pot culture should be packed away In dry sawdust at this time of the year, and they should be taken np later and prepared to be set out in the garden early in May. Those for the conservatory or window garden should he in the height of their glory now. The quan tity of water fed to them sbonld be gradually lessened after they have begun to flower freely. HELmr WHAKBtTBTJOX. PBETTY SHRUBS AND TRrTRS. "eat Little Growths That Are Suitable loj Lawn Ornamentation. lwnrrrxK von tbs disfatch. There are many ornamental shrubs and trees found growing in different parts of the country, both in a wild and cultivated state, which are hardly known in other sections, and yet which answer all of the require ments for beautifying lawns and gardens. The West is prolific in many wild native shrubs, while the East has acclimatized many imported shrubs. The two combined make np a list of shrubs that are both orna mental for their foliage and fruit, and of great beauty and variety. The Wanoo or Burning bush is a shrub found growing wild in the West on the borders of woods, where when grown to perfection it is great beauty. The dark brown blossoms of summer and the green of the foliage are quite attractive, but the true rnamental part of the tree is the brilliant ooloringof the autumn fruit, which chal enges admiration from all. For this rea s on the trees are valuable for ornamentation Tbe Bhamnns Caroliniana is a neat, tree like shrub of five feet in height. The shin ing dark green leaves, from three to fiya inches long, ore beautiful in themselves, but tbe loads of brightly colored berries which adorn the shrubs make 'the trees especially attractive. The fruits are about the size of cherries, and grow in clusters of from three to six. About the first of August they have a scarlet color, and from. that they pass on to a sort of dart: crimson, and finally, late In autumn, become a waxy black. The dark polished leaves brine oat the beauty of tbe fruit bv contrast and form a background of exquisite hue for them. The tree is well worth extended cultivation, not only tor its foliage, bnt for its ornamental fruit One of the most difficult of all our native shrubs to cultivate, and one which well repays all work given to it, is the Viburnum Lantan oides, or, as it is commonly called, the Hobble bnsh or Moosewood. It delights in rather moist soil and thrives best in tbe deep shade ot de ciduous trees. It makes a fine ornamental sbrnb, and occasionally reaches 12 or 13 feet in height. It has showy whiteflowera late In sum mer, and coral red fruit la autumn. Its autumn foliage is unsurpassed aud gives tone and va riety to all ot the other shrubs. It may jet prove one of the leading ornamental shrubs. C. S. WaXtebS. Competitoks may err it down, bnt it will not "down at their biddinsr." We refer to Salvation OiL It is ahead. Pries 23 cents. Stop at the Hollenden, in Cleveland. American and European plans, ' gr I - "z-J?"' i-ili.&tU! gggBMJPEMPMTflffigS ffirWW' '" III '"flf5 m1' L
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers