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
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