and he made no explanation nor apology
for his absence.
'Toil have been away all day," laid
Joan, timidly addressing: him.
"Yes," he replied briefly, and during
dinner he scarcely spoke. Then Joan
thought of her Ions: sleep, and wondered if
her tongue had spoken in her dreams. She
dare not ask the man who sat opposite to
her with unbending brow. And tne Gen
eral never alluded to it Joan's sleeping
words had smute him sharper than a sword.
He began to remember little things. Joan's
complete prostration when Robert Conray
died, and Miriam's firmer mood, though she
declared the dead man had been her plighted
lover. Good God ! had this fair woman de
ceived him all these years? the General bad
thought many a time during this miserable
day. Had she loved Robert Conrar, and
not her sister? Had he shot himself "in'tlie
shame and anguish of his sin? Pilled with
distracting doubts and fears he knew not
how to act. And Joan sat trembling, know
ing that something had happened; that
something stood between her and her hus
band's love.
And when she went to her room at night
the servants were conveying a bed into the
General's dressing room.
"What is this lor?" she asked.
"The General ordered it to be put here,
ma'rn," replied one of the servants and
Joan said no more. She sat down, half
benumbed in her room, and pnt her hands
over her face. Had the blow fallen? "What
did he mean? And Joan moaned alouil.
Hours afterwards she heard the General
go into his dressing-room, and lock the ad
joining door. Then she crept to bed, but
dare not sleep. And this went on for many
dayt and night;. The General barely spoke
to her, and Joan lived a miserable "life of
doubt and fear. But the strain was too
great to last. Joan's health broke down,
and when the doctor was sent for, he said
she had fever. She grew worse and worse,
and one night became violently delirious,
and her maid, who was watching her, got
frightened, and ran down to the General,
who was in the library, for assistance.
Then he went upstairs, and stood by
Joan's bed, who started np when khe saw I
ffl
liifcW
Ira
CALL ROBERT KOBEKT
him. Her eyes were shin'ng .with fever, I
and her face "was flushed, ami she evidently J
did not recognize him. I " '
- "Whofp'ou?" she askid.
"Joan ?' began the General, but with a
wild, unnatural laugh .Joan waved him
swav.
"Yon need not star," she said; you are
an old man call Robert Robert Conray,
my dead loer."
The General started and gnawed his lips
under his white mustache.
"Call Robert Conray and the man who
killed him," went on Joan, yet more ex
citedly. "He is liMing, the "coward who
killed" my Robert Miriam knows where he
is hid ask her, she has him safe."
"Go from the room; I will watch her,"
said the General with pale, faltering lips,
addressing the maid; "she is best kept very
quiet when she is wandering thus."
So the maid went away and the husband
and wife were alone, and then once more
the General addressed her.
"Joan, is there any truth in this?" he
Eaid, "or are they but dreams?"
Joan's face softened strangely.
"Dreams?" she repeated." "I see Robert
in my dreams, and the man who killed
him."
"Who was the man?" asked the General,
sternly.
"Hugh Ferrars," answered Joan, readily;
"and Miriam hid him."
"Where did she hide him?"
Joan put her hand to her head as if
trying to recollect.
"Somewhere by the sea," she said. "I
can't remember, but somewhere by the sea."
"And he did this," said the General,
darkly. "He shot Robert Conray. Whv
did he do it?"
"He shot him, and he died he died!"
moaned Joan, beginning to wring her hands
and fling herself to and fro in the bed.
"He tried to speak he looked at me.
Don't you know my gown was all blood
blood! Miriarn burnt it it was Robert's
blood it drained right down into mv
heart !"
"Mr God!" muttered the General, below
his breath, "this is too terrible."
"Why do you stare so?" now asked the
delirious woman, peering in her husband's
pale face with her gleaming eyes. "Did
you know Robert? He was not old like
vou he was young there was none like
him none, none!" And once more she
wrung her hands, and then went on with her
babbling words.
But the General asked no more questions.
He sat there as if turned to stone, lintening
to Joan telling again and again her pitiful
Ktory. It had burnt into her brain as she
told Miriam, and now, when reason had lost
its sway, the one dominating idea was ever
on her tongue. She rambled on for hours;
telling the stern gray-haired man who was
watchine her how she used to meet Robert
Conray in the still gardens. How they had
loved each other, and how he had died. At
last General Conray could bear it no longer.
He started up and rang the bell, and bade
the servants to go for the doctor bring him
at once and when he came he gently shook
his head after he had examined her.
"The fever is running very high to
night," he said, "she must be" constantly
watched."
Then the unhappy woman began again
the old story of Robert Couray's death, and
the doctor listened, and the General bowed
his gray head and covered his face with his
hand.
"That unfortunate occurrence has evi
dently got on her mind," said the doctor.
He too Knew this tragic story, and how the
General's nephew had been found cold and
stiff in the early morning in the grounds of
this very house. There might be some
truth in all this, and there might not At
all events he tpoke of Joan's wild words as
the mere ramblings ol delirum. He stayed
with her for some time, ai.d he said "he
would send tu o nurses in the morning. She
might try to throw herself out of the win
dow; she might do a hundred things, for in
case of lever you could never depend on the
patient for a moment
Joan was verr ill for days, for weeks
after this; so ill that her father and mother
were telegraphed for, but when they arrived
she had sunk into a state of listless apathy.
She did not rave now or talk of her dead
lover. She lay with her eyes half closed,
and rarely spoke. She seemed to recog
nize her parents, but without interest. Mrs.
Clyde tried to talk to her about Miriam, but
Joan never answered.
"Would von not like to see her, my
dear?" said Mrs. Clyde. "She will soon be
home now, and I am sure she would come
and see tou at once if you wish her to do
so?" But still Joan made no reply.
General Conrav was standing in the room
when Mrs. Clyde" said that, and he presently
turned round and addressed Mrs. Clyde.
"When did you say Lady MacKennon
would return?" "he asked.
"They were to cross to-dav, and she is
going straight to Scotland to be introduced
to her husband's mother," answered Mrs.
Clyde. "But I am sure if Joan wishes to
see her she would come here first."
"I do not think it would be advisable,"
said the General, and then he left the room
and Joan closed her sunken eyes.
A letter came from Miriam the next day
to inquire about her, and"1 Mrs. Clyde
answered it guardedly. 'Miriam knew Joan
had been ill, but not' how seriously ill she
had been, and was. Mrs. Clyde had thought
it kinder not to make Miriam anxious about
her sister during her honeymoon. But
Miriam had been anxious in spite of this,
and when she heard her mother and her
father were at Tyerord she grew more
anxious stilL
But Mrs. Clyde's letter from the General's
house, after she had seen Joan, was on the
whole reassuring Joan was weak, but re
covering, Mrs. Clyde wrote, and the Gen
eral did not think it advisable for them to
have any more company in the house at
present Joan had to be kept perfectly
quiet, but when she was stronger she hoped
that Miriam and her husband could come to
see her.
Mrs. Clyde added this apparent message
from Joan (who' had not sent it) because
Miriam had said something about seeing
Joan before she went to Scotland. But
after she received her mother's letter
Miriam and Sir James decided to go direct
to Kintore, and accordingly they only
stayed two days in town, and then pro
ceeded north.
Shall we look at them for a moment as
COXRAY, MY DEAD LOVER.
they sat side by side in the railway carriage
on this journey to Miriam's future home?
On Sir James' face there was absolute con
tent, and what on Miriam's? She looked
very sweet and fair wrapped in the rich furs
that had been purchased by Sir James
lavish hand. She looked, too, in her hus
band's face gratefully, almost fondly. The
weeks they had spent together had certainly
drawn her heart nearer to him. It was
impossible, indeed, for a loving, sympa
thetic nature like Miriam's to lemain quite
cold to anyone so completely kind and
affectionate as Sir James. She had not been
used to mnch tenderness and consideration
at home. Mrs. Clyde had always been the
most important personage at the command
ant's house at Xenbrough-on-the-Sea. But
now Miriam found herself not only sur
rounded br new luxuries, but by the
si ncerest i flection and love. He was always
giving her some pleasant surprise; always
thinking how he could please her. She had
not forgotten her fir&t love for the unhappy
man, whose mad jealousy had so nearly
shipwrecked her young life. But she un
doubtedly had some leeling very like affec
tion for Sir James. And he seemed so
perfectly happy. He had no -misgivings
nor fears regarding their future life
"I am glad I can make him so happy,"
Miriam often thought in these early mar
ried days, and if a dark shadow sometimes
stole over her face she always tried to
smile the cloud away in the presence of Sir
James.
He was naturally anxious that she should
make a favorable Impression on his mother,
and Miriam also felt a little nervous re
garding the dowager Lady MacKennon.
"She's old-!ashioned, you know, dar
ling," he told her, "and a bit prejudiced,
but you'll soon fall into her ways. "
"And, of course, she will never think
anyone good enough for you," smiled
Miriam.
"Ye, she will think you are too good,"
answered Sir James, with a tender light in
his grey eyes, as they rested on the sweet
face of his young wife
This brief conversation took place during
their journey to Scotland, and was like
many of their conversations, very simple
and kindly. They were excellent compan
ions, and Sir James always looked on the
bright side of everything. He was so
genial that it became infectious, and
Miriam sometimes found herself smiling
quite brightly at his harmless jokes.
His place, "Kintore, was in the Western
Highlands, a substantial gray old house
standing by the blue waters ot one of the
most beautiful of the inland locus. Sir
James possessed a large estate here, but the
principal part of his income did not arise
from the heathery hills and glens of his
ancestral property. His mother had been
the rich and only daughter of a Glasgow ship
builder, and when his maternal grandfather
died, some years after the death of his own
father, it was found that the late Mr.
Munro, the Glasgow shipbuilder, had be
queathed, perhaps in the pride of his heart,
a large lortune to "my grandson, Sir James
MacKennon, BarL"
To his daughter, Lady MacKennon, he
also left a considerable sum, but the bulk of
his money went to Sir James. Lady Mac
Kennon, however, was a rich woman beforn
she received her father's legacy. Her
mother, the late Mrs. Munro, had "been an
heiress, and at her. death she had left every
thing she had possessed to her daughter. It
was after this event that the father of Sir
James had married her, and the people
said he had done so to prop up the
fallen fortunes of his house with
money that had been, made in trade
Miss " Munro (Lady MacKennon) was not
handsome, had never been handsome, and
was inclined to look upon fair skins and
bright eyes only as snares of the evil one.
Slie had been proud or. and deeply attached
to her well-born husband; but she had car
ried many of her narrow prejudices and
ideas with her to- her new state. There
fore, we can understand that Sir James,
knowing well the nature of this stiff,
somewhat self-righteous old dame, was
anxious about what she would think of his
young wife. And it will be as well to tell
what she did think.
It was dark, and had been dark several
hours when the young ceuple arrived at the
mansion house of Kintore. A handsome
carriage had been waiting for them at the
THE
nearest station to Sir James place, but a
half moon had shone out to partly light
them on their way, and its glimmer fell on
the waters of the loch as they droTe by Its
side. . .
"How beautiful it seems," said Miriam,
with enthusiasm, who had never been in
the Highlands before.
"Wait till you see it in daylight," an
swered Sir James, with some pride.
They were both sitting haud-clasped,
these two, as they approached their future
home, and only thoughts of happiness were
in, Sir James' heart As for Miriam, she
was excited bv ber surroundings, and had
not time to think. But as they drove up
the avenue to the house she clasped Sir
James' hand a little tighter in her own.
"I feel quite nervous," she said.
He stooped down and kissed her.
"What for, darling?" he whispered.
"You are only going home."
Almost as he said this, they reached the
hall door which was standing open to re
ceive them, and several servants also ap
peared. Sir James spoke kindly to some of
these, and then turned and handed Miriam
out of the carriage, and drawing her arm
through his, led her into the lighted hall.
And as he did this, a spare figure in black,
with her iron gray hair plainly braided be
neath her widow's cap, nppeared on the
threshold of one of the rooms leading from
the hall, and fixed her scrutinizing gaze
upon the bride.
For a moment Sir James did not see her,
and Lady MacKennon did not advance.
Then Sir James caught sight of bis mother,
and with an exclamation of pleasure, ran
up and kissed her furrowed cheek.
"Well, mother, here we are," he said,
"and this," he added, drawing his young
wife forward, "is Miriam."
"So I supposed," said Ladv MacKennon,
and she held out a bony hand enclosed in a
black mitten, "well, welcome to your hus
band's home, Lady MacKennon."
She did not offer to kiss her, and Miriam
felt in a moment that her reception was not
a warm one. But she made the best of it
She smiled and put her slim hand with a
graceful gesture into Lady MacKennon's.
"I'm afraid Miriam will be tired, it is
such a long journey." said Sir James. "I
think, dear, you fiad better go upstairs at
once and get off your hat and cloak, and
then mother, I am sure, will have some
thing for us to eat"
"Supper is prepared, James; I thought it
was too late lor dinner as it is past ten,"
said the dowager. "As soon as Lady Mac
Kennon is ready yon can have it"
She spoke with a strong Scotch accent,
and looked a woman of very determined
will. She was hard-looking, in fact, and
the stillness of her manner and appearance
made Miriam feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"I shall be ready in a few minutes," she
said. "Where is JTorS? You must show
me the the nay, upstairs, James."
"Come along, then," he said brightly:
"it's so jolly to see the old place again,.
motner, ana to see you loosing so wen.
Lady MacKennon's hard face relaxed.
"I am pleased to see you at home," she
said, "and your wife."
Thanks very much," answered Sir
James. "Which room is she to have,
mother?"
"The blue room; the best," replied his
mother; and with a" good-natured nod Sir
) James led his young wife away.
In "tne blue room; tne best, as .bany
MacKennon had described it, they found
Ford, and a gaunt, grizzled, hard-featured
Scotch woman, whom Sir James warmly
shook by the hand.
"Well, Jean, and how are you?" he said
kindly. "This is Jean iiiglewood, my
mother's maid, Miriam, aud she has known
me since I was a baby."
"Ay, Master Jim." said the Scotchwoman
with a smile. "But I beg yer pardon, my
leedy, I snouldna say Master Jim now, but
Sir James, but I have minded him since he
was a bairn. "
Miriam smiled, and held out her handito
the old serving woman who had nursed her
husband.
"Then I must shake hands with you,"
she taid, pleasantly.
Jean made her best courtesy in .acknowl
edgment of this honour, and then Miriam
was left to the care of Ford, and presently
appeared downstairs in a cbarmingtea gown
ot pale primrose silk, fantastically trimmed
with white lace and ribbon; and her prim
mother-in-law glanced at her costume with
disapproval. Sir James, however, was
enchanted with it, and was delighted to see
that Miriam was looking very handsome.
"We bought that gown in Paris, mother.
Isn't it smart?" he said.
"I fear Paris is a very sinful city," an
swered Lady MacKennon, with a doleful
shake of her head. Whether aimed at the
tea gown or city she did not explain.
Sir James laughed good naturedly, and
then they all went into the handcome old
fashioned' dining room where a sumptuous
supper was laid out The heavy sideboard
was laden with costly plate, and all around
were the evidences of wealth. The butler
had grown gray in his lady's service, and,
too, remembered "Master Jim," and looked
with great interest on his bride. During
supper Lady MacKennon relaxed some
what, and it was evident that her son was
the very pride and darling of her heart
Her eyes rested on him, and softened as
they looked. Sir James, too, was fond ot
his mother. He got up when supper was
over and went to her cliair and kissed her,
and whispered in her ear as he did so:
"Isn't she awfully pretty, mother?"
Lady MacKennon made no jeply. She
took her son's hand and petted it tenderlv,
as she might have done when he was a little
boy. Then she sighed softlv, wishing, per
haps, that those days coufd come again,
when she had been first in her son's heart
But she made no complaint And when
they parted for the night, as Miriam was
about to shake hands with her mother-in-law,
Sir James called out: "You should
kiss her, mother."
Then Lady MacKennon did for a moment
touch Miriam's lovely face with her thin,
blush-tinted lips.
"I am not much given to kissing, James
but she is your wife," she said; and then
she turned and kissed her son.
And when she went upstairs her old serv
ing woman was waiting to undress her, and,
of course, eager to discuss the bride.
"Well, Jean, what do you think of Sir
James' choice?" asked Lady MacKennon.
"Weel, my leddy," answered Jean, "she's
unco well favored, anyhow."
"Beauty's but skin deep, Jean."
"Av.'but the men folks think a lot a' it,"
said Jean, reflectively.
"It's a snare to them," replied Lady Mae
Kennon, shaking her head; "a pit into
which rnanv fall."
Keither Jean, nor her mistress, however,
could complain that they had wrought much
evil by their good looks. Tney were both
plain, hard-featured women, and Miriam's
beauty was no recommendation in Lady
MacKennon's eyes. Still she did not deny
it, aud she was gratified the next morning
by Miriam's enthusiastic admiration of the
wild and beautiful scenery around Kintore.
"I shall never weary ot looking at it,"
said Miriam; "James, you never told me it
was like this."
"It is too late to see it in perfection,"
said Sir James, going to the. window aud
laviug bis hand tenderly on Miriam's shoul
de'r; "wait till we are here next August and
September; it's splendid then, isn't it,,
mother?"
"It's like a fairy scene even now," went
on Miriam; "how'blue the loch is, and the
dark firs, and that great mountain towering
away into the sky. And have you always
lived here, Lady MacKennon?"
"Since my marriage," answered Lady
MacKennon. "I came here as a bride, and
will only leave it when I am carried away
to my long home."-
"No dismal talk is to be allowed, mother,"
said Sir James, in his bright, kindly war.
"I want Miriam to enjoy her first day in her
new home."
The inner drawing room was divided
from the front drawing room by heavy bro
cade silk curtains, which were alw ays kept
closed on account ot the draught' They
were both pleasant rooms, and on this day
large stad cheerlul fires were burning in
each. Miriam had finished her letter to her
mother, and was busy writing to Joan, de
scribing the scenery round Kintore and the
place, when the butler raised the brocade
curtains that divided the two drawing
rooms, and, to Miriam's intense surprise,
announced "General Conray."
To be continued next veek.)
PJTTSBURQ DISPATCH.
THE DOGS OF PARIS.
Hydrophobia Drove the City Author
ities to a Systematic War.
THEY ARE SMOTHERED BY GAS.
At First the Tress and People Heoelled
Against the Procedure.
HrZZLES ARE -UNIVERSAL JUST-NOW
CORBESrONTE.VCE Or TKK UISPATCB.J
Paris, July 13.
Y way of diversion I
went one day not long
ago to hunt up the Four
riere. It is not an art
gallery or a museum.
It is what we in Amer
ica call the pound, it
mayseem like depraved
taste to be visiting a
pound in a city where
two brilliant salons are
open, where the great
f . annual races are being
Lrun, and where flower
fetes are calling to
gether all the nobility
and fashion for com
moners to gaze on, but
the truth is the pound
of Paris has been almost as much talked of
this summer as the salons, and it has caused
almost as many heartaches as the gambling
at the races. The reason is simple enough.
The Parisian authorities have resolved to
prevent hydrophobia.
That this disease should prevail in the
city which possesses Pasteur seems a mock
ery, but it is a fact Perhaps the reason is,
K Ct-jC..
TIIE DEATH CAGE
to a degree, because it does possess Pasteur.
Were there no reasonably sure cure within
reach greater pains to prevent the spread of
it would undoubtedly have been long ago
taken.
Parisians T.ove Tlielr Dogs.
There are in Paris, it is estimated, some
80,000 dog, about 1 to every 30 inhabitants.
The Parisians are especially fond of them.
Every lady of fashion owns her pet Many
street venders keep them by their carts. A
delivery wagon almost invariably is accom
panied by a bright little mongrel, which
sits on the seat by the driver and seems to
have quite as much to do with the outfit as
the man with the lines. Running free as
they do, if one goes mad he is sure to poison
many other animals.
In the month of May last the institute,
which M. Pasteur directs, received on an
average 10 cases a day from Paris alone for
inoculation against disease contracted by the
bites of mad dogs. M. Pasteur conteuded
that this was unnecessary. A few other
friends of humanity in the city persisted in
demanding protection. It was shown by
statistics that in Belgium, Holland, Prussia
and other European countries hydrophobia
was almost unknown because dogs were re
quired to be muzzled the year around.
Finally the police determined to take the
matter up in earnest For the three or four
past years a spring excitement has been car
ried on in Paris by an order that the dogs be
muzzled, but the excitement and the muzzles
passed away quickly. This year has been
quite a different thing. An ordinance ap
peared the 30th ol May calling upon the
owners ot dogs to either" lead them in the
streets or muzzle them.
Getting Orders From Bulletins.
In Paris the community gets its orders
and its advice from posters. The bulletin
boards bearing municipal and governmental
posters are read quite as faithfully every
morning by the populace as are the news
papers. When the posters calling upon the
people to muzzle their dogs appeared there
was a certain expressive shrugging of the
Parisian shoulders, but there was no special
obedience. The police seemed quite as in
different as the people. After a few days
of laxitv, however, there was a sudden
quickening. The policemen were discov
ered to be "running down stray dogs with
great persistency. The rumor went abroad
that numbers were being killed. It was
said that the Prefect of Police was in earn
est' about the ordinance.
The mental condition of Paris when it
found that the law against its favorite pet
was to be enforced was something astonishing.
It was veritable hysteria. Fully two-tHirds of
the press fell to abusing the Prefect. They
called him a carricide and warned him sol
emnly to beware of the judgment day.
(Ordinarily the press of Paris shows no
sign that it believes in a judgment day,
but on occasions it can refer to that great
institution with remarkable effect.) The
stories of the arrest ot dogs and of their
slaughter at the pound, when not called for,
took a tragic tone, laughable to an Anglo
Saxon temperament, but calculated to make
French hearts burn and French eyes weep.
The head lines announced: "The Massacre
of the Innocents; Carnage Among Our Pets;
Hecatombs of Dogs, etc., etc" The law
was called Draconian. The "neighborhood
of the -pound was declared to resemble p the
precincts of the revolutionary prisonsand
the scenes enacted there to recall the horri
ble days of September, 1793, when it was
men, not dogs, and the pike and ax and not
a painless'gas were the weapons.
'I ho rrr Via In UeLelllon.
Certain papers did no't hesitate to state
that a few daily cases of hydrophobia was
an altogether inadequate reason for spoil
ing the happiness of the Paris dogs and one
asked why if such an ordinance were passed
another did not mate it forbidding wagons
in the street, since men were sometimes
knocked down and killed by them. The
policemen were told that the business of
arresting dogs was beneath them and that
if they refused to obey their orders, the
people would be with them. The high-ciass
papers which upheld the wisdom of the or
dinance and urged the Prefect to firmness
were stigmatized as"Enemies of the Dog"
and in the state of Parisian feeiing it was
almost, as dangerous a name as spy in war
times.
It was the tragic tone of all this which
led me to look up the fourriere. It stands
near the heart of the city, a low building
7"(tA
RwwLStbw
ti3r &j&Sk BKBSfSjt-'
Tji" i"" TO.M8gViWttigrTrri s&iSJA ffiflwM
V
Capturing a Small Specimen.
SUNDAY, JULY 24
with the inevitable wall in front Over the
gate are the words Liberte! Egalite! Fra
ternitel the legend on every public build
ing in Paris, whether devoted to senators
or live stock. Below the motto was the
word Fourriere. A permission from the
Prefect of the Police was necessary to get
in. In fact, no French institutions pan be
visited without a permit. It is not difficult
usually to get such permissions if you
have plenty of patience and when once in
hand they insure the utmost courtesy and
full information. The day of my visit .at
the pound the excitement on the dog ques
tion was evident from without the gates.
Men were hurrving in their captives. A
gentleman was bringing forth a rescued pet
and shutting it in a closed carriage while
his wife and lackeys rejoiced aloud over the
merciful deliverance. Within a half dozen
people were searching for missing canines
and abusing the administration in low tones
for their vigilance.
Thnv Kp Dp a Ceaseless Yelplne.
The Paris pound is not for dogs 'alone. It
receives all sorts of broken down and lost
articles. A visit to its inanimate depart
ment is said to be highly interesting, but as
I had come to see dogs I hurried into the
court from whence a great yelping and
snarling proceoded the prison of the much
lamented dogs. There were scores of them,
of all sizes and all varieties, a few with
aristocratic marks, but most of them noisy,
sturdy, little fellows of mongrel type and
common habits.
AND GAS BETOKT.
When a dog wearing a collar giving its
owner's address is arrested, the police im
mediately send the owner a card notifying
him of the whereabouts of his pet. The
animal is then kept three days. If at the
end of that time he is not claimed he
must go the way nf all the con
demned into the "death cage," as the
sensational press has dubbed it, and he suf
focated by gas. There are a great manr of
the dogs not marked, and these are killed
at once. The process is simple aud not
painful. Twelve or 15 dogs are put into a
little car which stands on a small track at
the side of the prison. This car is then
rolled into a box at the farther end of the
track. Into the box runs a gas pipe. The
gas is turned on andin a le" moments a
load of dead bodies is rolled out The
barcasses are piled up waiting what? That
is not told. They say the skins are made
into gloves, the bodies thrown into the
sewers.
Thousands Killed In a Month.
It is not a pleasant thing to See for one
who loves a dog. And who does not ? but it is
better than that they should go mad, even
if there were no question of human life con
cerned. The number of dogs killed at the
pound in Juue reaehed into the thousands.
The firmness- had its effect It always does
with the Parisians, and a dog without a
muzzle tin leading is to-day a rare
sight. The excitement over the case, the
demonstration, the opposition, the speedy
and complete acceptance of the
regulation are a good example of what
one sees and hears again and again among
these volatile people. A law, however
sensible, if it touches one ot their senti
ments raises a hubbub which to a colder
temperament looks like a veritable revolu
tion. If the authorities persist, however,
the populace resigns itself as completely
and quickly as it rose in revolt It seems
to harbor no resentment, to forget its elo
quent protests and its despairing wails.
The question loses its interest now that
there is no use in struggling, and a new
excitemeut is looked for.
In the midst of the excitement over the
muzzling of the dog the fishing season
opened. With its commencement there re
appeared in Paris one ot her most pic
turesque types, the urban fisherman. They
are a numerous tribe. From one end to the
other of the Seine within the city walls
the quays are sprinkled with them. Some
times they sit on the low walls close to the
river. Again they hang out loug lines from
the top ot the steep high stone banks. Often
they select a quiet corner of a bridge.
Again they rock all day in a little boat
anchored to a bath house or a pier. I never
saw one ot them catch anything. I never
found anybody who had seen a fish pulled
out. Parisians usually sneer at-the idea of
there being fish within the walls and affirm
that the products of the river at Paris are
mainly broken bottles, rags and departed
cats. Ida M. Tarbell.
IXPL0BEK OF A DE3EBT.
. .
Charles Thtelson Undertakes a Perilous
Trip Throuah Colorado.
San Francisco Chronicle.
Charles Thielson will long be remembered
as an explorer of the Colorado desert, for
within the past few weeks he has mad an
involuntary trip from the month of the
Colorado river to . Salton, a distance
of over 600 miles, and the greatest
wonder exists how he lives to tell
the tale. On May 10 he left Yuma
in an 18-foot skiff, going down the Colorado
river to the mouth of Hardy's Colorado to
hunt for the plumes of the little white
crane, which are plentiful there. Not meet
ing with success he went up Hardy's Colo
rado to Volcano mountain, there camped
and hunted for plumes.
He then determined to follow up the New
river, which comes into Hardy's Colorado
two miles northwest of Volcano mountain,
which place he left June 15. Entering up
the New river, he found a slow current
running northwest, and after proceeding 15
miles came to a laguna with "an in
creased current; from that into a channel
with quite a rapid current, and thought
lessly went on, cutting his way through the
mesquites until he came to another laguna.
Then, realizing his dangerous position, he
made camp and concluded that it was im
possible to return by boat to Yijma through
the channels on account of the rapid cur
rents. The thought then occurred to push on
and endeavor to reach Salton. Tne next
day, thinking the water would rise, be, went
back to his brat and found, to use his own
expression, thaf'the water was being licked
up by the sun." There being no sign of a
rise he went back to Durmid, and, not being
treated kindly, started lor Salton afoot to
advise G. W. Durbrow of bis trip. At Sal
ton he was taken care of, and to-day he was
fitted out with provisions and water to re
turn to his boat for his gun and baggage.
Mr. Thielson will return to Salton aud will
be the guest of Mr. Durbrog.
The water shows on the marsh abou t four
miles from the track at Salton, but with the
great evaporation there is but little increase
to the water, which is accounted for by the
fact that only one stream is running into
the lake, and as the river will be falling
every day it is not probable that the water
will attain a depth of over six1 inches on the
marsh, which Mr. Durbrow says "will be
very acceptable."
1
They Detest Their Muzzles.
1892:
LIVING 'IN ENGLAND.
Prodigious Efforts of British Editors
to Pacify the Workers.
CURIOUS REPORT FROM CHICAGO.
letnal Prices Paid in London by a Corre-
sporident of The Dispatch.
WAGES LOW AND NECESSARIES HIGH
cokkesfoxdixoc or th dispatch.
London, July 15. A topio of never-failing
interest oii both sides of the Atlantic is
the relative cost of living in England and
the United Siates.r The English press, al
ways ready with an opinion on this subject,
has been discussing it for some days with an
assiduity which, in view of the pending
campaign) is somewhat suspicious. There
has been published recently a report from
the British Consul at Chicago on wages and
the cost of living in the States of what we
know as the Middle West "Whether this
report was timed by tha authorities here so
as to make its appearance just before the
election I do not know, but it has unques
tionably been used for election pur
poses. It is held forth as
a sort of soothing syrup for the
disturbed spirits of those classes who have
come but lately into their political heritage,
and who, from the recklessness of new
found freedom and the desperation engen
dered by long years of oppression, have
threatened to upset things in this staid, old
land, both politically and socially.
To adapt such a report to a purpose like
this has not been easy, and 1 can hardly be
lieve the undertaking has been successful.
Not having read the report in full, I re
frain from adverse criticism upon it But
to the conclusions drawn from it in British
newspapers I can do no otherwise than dis
sent in the most emphatic terms. I cannot
believe, in the first placi, that such infer
ences are warranted by the report itself.
Indeed, from what I have read of it, I know
they aie not; and even though, by any pos
sibility, the statement of a British Consul
should be found to justify them, I" am posi
tively certain that these opinions would
find no countenance in the facts of the case.
They Concede the Higher Vf a;r.
It is admitted in the comments of the
press that wages in the United States are
far, very far, in advance of what is paid in
England. It is even conceded that in some
branches of industry the average earnings
of the American worker will amount per
week to double the sum pocketed by work
ers in the same lines over here. But the
cost of living there's the rub, they tell us,
and their assumption is that the relative
difference in this respect is fully enough, if
not more than enough, to make np in Eng
land's favor for the relative diflerence
shown in the wage sheets of the two coun
tries. This position is taken and strenu
ously maintained by every English paper
that has fallen under my notice
since the matter came up for
special discussion, and it will certainly
be through no want of pleading on the part
of ponderous British editors if the notion is
not crammed down the throats of the
British public. One paper, an influential
London daily, warns those wbo are thinking
of emigrating to the United States to look
before they leap, and its warnings are
emphasized by the astounding observation
that "bad as is the condition of the British
workman, we think that he is much better
off than his brother in America."
Now, what I propose to combat in this
letter is the assumption, which I hold to be
altogether baseless, that living in England is
so much cheaper than it is with us: and; dis
carding details for the present, I shall offer
only a few cursory observations npon this
point If workmen can buy their neces
saries at so low a cost as is claimed, it will
surely transpire that living. in general can
be conducted at a low rate, for it is incon
ceivable that the general public would put
up with prices which were out ot propor
tion altogether to those paid for the same
articles by the daily laborer. What, then,
are the facts?
r
Bates on Railroads and In Hotels.
As regards the cost of things to the aver
age resident one lees at ouce how far
fetched is this idea of cheapness if he only
Jooks at the two items ot railway and hotel
rates. To travel ou the English railways in
a style at all comparable with that afforded
on ordinary American cars, you must travel
first-class. Even then ypu will get no con
venience, beyond that of a fairly comfort
able seat, and the rate will be 4 cents a
mile. Second-class costs about the same as
the American first class, that is, 3 cents a
mile. Of conrse you can take a third-class
ticket if you like, which will cost a cent per
mile less'than this. But your standing is
impeached by riding third while others are
riding first-class on the same train. You
will "get there" just as soon, but you will
neither be co comfortable in body nor so
happy in mind.
At first-class hotels in large towns you
will be entertained, of course, on the Euro
pean plan. The lowest price for a iairly
good room will be four-and-six, with one-and-six
for attendance. This means $1 0,
and if afterward ym fee the many persons
for whose attentions you are supposed to
have paid, but have not, in the extra one
and six, it will mean $2. Your meals you
can take where you please. But it will be
a poor meal of any kind, and poorly served,
which you will get for less thanSO cents,
barring, ot course, the English tea,
and here again - you will have to
drop twopence for the waiter each time. So
that even when you have saved all you can
you will be running closely upon the Ameri
can (3 50 a day rate. But it is common,
and a little humiliating, to have to get
meals, for economy's sake, outside the
hostelry where you are putting up; and yet,
if you" take them at these cheap English
hotels, look at the cost Seventy-five cents
for breakfast, $1 25 for dinner, 50 cents for
tea, and it you take the regulation "fourth"
meal, be it lunch or supper, about 75 cents
more; which foots up'for the day, including
room, a hotel rate of something over f 5.
That's how cheap living is in England if
you pnt up at a fairly good hotel.
EncJIsh Workers Do Not Travel.
To weaken the force of these observations,
it may be said that the ordinary run of peo
ple do not trouble hotels, and that those
who do patronize them can afford to pay
well for their entertainment Which may
be quite true, but business men and those
who travel, whether in England or Amer
ica, are compelled to patronize such places.
Not only, therefore, may we properlv bring
them into account when the cost of living is
under treatment, but they may surely be
held, in the scale of charges they maintain,
to express in some measure the current
value ot at least the comforts aud luxuries
of life, if not 0' its ordinary necessaries.
As to railway travel, here the case is mucii
stronger, for the poor man has to use the
train as well as the rich. He "does not
travel so much as his fellow toiler in Amer
ica, because he cannot rfbrd to do so. He
would probablv travel TOore, and, in conse
quence" know more and enjoy more, if his
wages were better, and he might do it even
with his wages at the present standard if
conveniences and concessions were afforded
him in railway travel such as would put
him on a level in such matters with the
workmen in the United States.
But clothing, we are assnred, is surpris
ingly low in price. The common idea is
that you can get it for about one half what
it costs in the United States. This, how
ever, is another fallacy. If such clothing
as is worn by workmen at their daily toil,
and such as the laboring classes are content
to wear on Sundays and holidays, can be
purchased any cheaper in London than in
Chicago or New York, I have vet to see the
advertisement of any responsible English
shopkeeper which demonstrates this fact,
and have yet to find any place, notwith
standing the search I have maintained,
where such clothing is displayed to view.
The truth is that for the lower grade of
goods and workmanship in the clothing
line prices in the two countries are about
equal.
Cheap Clotblog I Not Cheap.
And in higher grades the situation is
something like this. The same goods which,
when Cut in the American style, and fitted
with American exactness, ana finished ac
cording t6 the American quality of well
paid workmanship, would cost yon in the
laud of the stars and stripes about $45, you
can get put together and hung on vour back
here for, sav $25. But for the $20 you may
have saved in money you will pay awfully
dear in the sacrifice of comfort. I write
feelingly upon this point, repeated experi
ments in cheap English clothing having
fully convinced me that garments which
come at so low a price are never properly
made, that they never fit and never give
satisfaction. Nevertheless, you can get a
good suit of clothes here quie as good as
any you can get in America. The only
thing is that, to do this, you must go to
some fashionable, high-priced tailor a man
who keeps good hands and pars fair wages.
Here you will find yourself quite well
suited in both the literal and figurative
sense. You will find, too, that the cost will
be, if anvthing, a little more than 'your
tailor in'New York would have charged.
It would be ungenerous, after saying all
this, not to make an admission favorable to
the other side ot the question. I do it
cheerfully. I admit that in rents the En
glishmanhas a decided advantage over us.
He can get shelter cheaper than we can, as
a rule, though not in all cases. It wonld be
awful indeed if he could not, considering
how much worse offhe i3 at the week's end
in wages. But against this advantage I may
well instance, with a very pardonable sensa
tion of pride, the large proportion of Amer
ican workmen who are above the necessity
of paying rent, from the fact that they have
become their own landlords.
American Workers Own Their Homes.
These solemn London dailies, in their
comments upon the report ot the British
Consul at Chicago, are telling their fellow
subjects, for election purposes, that work
ingmen seem to be "in no better condition to
save money in the United States than in
England." It takes all they get and more
than they are able to get, they assure us, to
clothe and feed their families respectably,
because prices are so high. When, how
ever, they inform ns incidentally, in th5
same connection, that, on the testimony of
their own representative in that territory,
something like one-half ot the wage work
ers withiu the consular district of the mid
dle West, are living in their own houses,
they give away the whole case. This is let
ting the cat out of the bag with a vengeance.
But people in both countries need some
thing more than clothing and shelter.
Ilome Is more than foursquare walls,
It needs something to endear it.
In America the ordinary workman thinks
that home, to he a real home, should have a
carpet on the floor and, perchance, a musi
cal instrument in the parlor. And if the
cost of things is so much less here than in
the United States, or, in other words, if
English wages have the same buying power
in England as American wages have in
America, why is it. that the homes of Eng
lish workmen are not brightened the same
way?
No Spring Chicken for John Boll.
The American workman likes meat, and,
as a rule, he eats it from two to three times
a dav. He gets it; too, in most sections of
the country, at trifling cost. With spring
chickens obtainable at 25 cents each, ami. a
good big fowl for roasting or boiling at from
39 to 40 cents, he can occasionally treat
himself to even such a luxury as that But
here meat is meat, and chickens fly too high,
altogether to ever sit, except on the very
rarest occasions, on the table of the work
in gman. If you can pick up a fowl here for
65 cents, you are lucky indeed. You will
generally find them roosting in the market
the few that are available at about the
attitude from of 80 cents to a 51 25. Here is
another instance of the dirt cheapness, so
to speak, of living in England.
Of course they telr us here that working
people do not need such delicacies as these.
If thev do not. it is well they do not We
are told indeed that they do not need much
meat of any kind, and here again are con
gratulations in order, for how on earth
could they get much, if they needed it ever
so badly?" For our own table, we are pay
ing on the outskirts of London, 22 cents a
pound for only a fairly good roast of beef.
For steaks w e pay 24 cents, and for the best
mutton chops even more than that
Four Days' Waires for Two Days' Meat.
Becently, in a market about 50 miles from
London, I" put down 2 for a leg of mutton
weighing nine pounds, and when yon con
sider that to thousands of agricultural la
borers living in the vicinity of that market
town, the 52 I was assessed for only enough
meat to last a medium-sized family
a couple of days, represents two
thirds of a week's income, you
will get some idea both of what wages
are in this country and of the ntter fallaev
of the proposition, so strenuously contended
for over here just et this time, that the En
glish workman is as well off relatively as
the workman in the United States. Such
an idea is all moonshine.
To be sure, the English workman man
ages to live mnch cheaper than the Amer
ican. He is compelled to do this because
his earnings are so much smaller. He does
it, however, not because prices are lowa'r,
but rather as the result of the economy he
is forced to practice, and the privations to
which he subiects himself in the heroic
effort to cut his coat according .to the small
measure of cloth doled out to him.
Henry Tccklet.
Insrc's In the Ear.
A physician, in discussing the preva
lence of ear trouble, caused especially in
summer time, when all who can fly to the
country, by the entrance of earwigs and
other insects into the ear, points out a sim
ple remedy. When living insects find their
way into the external auditory canal the ear
should at onee be turned to a bright light,
in the hope ot inducing the intruder to back
out by virtue of the attraction which light
naturally has for him. If this prove un
successful the ear should be filled with
sweet oil or glvcerine, which will kill the
insect by occluding its breathing pores and
generally float it out Sometimes, how
ever, a syringe and warm water are necessary
to remove it. In cases where these means
are not at hand, as when hunting, blowing
tobacco smoke into the ear directly from
the stem of a pipe, the mouth being placed
over the bowl and protected from it by the
hand, will kill or stupefy the intruder, and,
at all events, reduce him to a state ot inac
tivity pending the ability to dislodge him.
Tor Fassenpers or for Freight.
The launching of a freight steamer re
cently built in Scotland deserves more than
passing attention from the fact that she was
fitted for portable accommodation 'tween
decks for 72 first class passengers. To pro
vide for the large influx of passengers,
which at certain times of the year avail
themselves of the facilities to travel afforded
by the company owning the steamer, and at
the Fame time not to absorb any of the cargo
space, it became necessary to adopt some
svstem by which one of the principal carjo
compartments could be transformed into
passenger accommodations aud vice versa in
the shortest possible time. A simple ar
rangement was adopted. Two or three
hands can make the change in an hour, and
when done it is hard to believe with the
curtains, carpets and neatly painted bulk
headsthat this metamorphosis has taken
place in a compartment ordinarily intended
for cargo.
S3 xcon!on to Cleveland Via Pennsyl
vania I.lnes
Tnesday, July IB, .from rittsburx for
special train leaving Union stntlon 8 A. M..
and lor regular ttnins at 1:30 p. M. an U 11:05
r. sr., centnl time; tickets good to return
until 3 nly 30. Inclusive. - Thsu
Excursion to Cleveland,
Via Pittsburg and Lake Erie Railroad, Tues
day, July 26. Tickets Rood for return until
July SO. Only $3 for tbe round trip, tusu
. - z.t-. jcJ- .t&ejt&SZ - ' -
MONEY ON THE OCEAN.
What It Costs to Take an Atlantic
Liner Between Continents.
A WOOD CONCRETE FR01I GERMANY,
Simple Method of Getting Additional Light
Prom-a Gas Jet
NEW PETICES FOE PH0T0GBAPHERS
rwniTTzx ron thz dispatch:!
In view of the fact that in a few months
the Cunard Company will have two vessels
afloat, which are expected to reduce the
passage between Queenstown and New
York to 5J or 5 days, some statistics
givin by Arthur J. Maginnis on the ships,
men and working of the' Atlantic ferry are
of great interest
In a ship like the Teutonic, to begin with,
a sum of about $3,000,000 is invested, and
the working expenses are proportionately
heavy. In the sailing, engine and passen-
Lger departments the large number of 322
nanas are requires a in tne nrsi, 101 in
the second and 114 in the third. Ttje wages
paid for these hands amount to, say, $1,500
for the sailing department, $4,800 for tha
engine and $2,350 for the passenger, mak
ing a total of $8,650 per month.
When these figures are considered, to
gether with the other expenses of mainte
nance, office expenses, insurance, agency
commission, shore staff, works, port charges,
interest on capital, and depreciation, it may
be fairly taken that at least the sum of $S0,
000 mnst be realized per trip before any
profits can be counted on; so that some idea
of the enormous sums at stake in the work
ing and management of an express transat
lantic line can be formed.
Mr. Maginnis holds strongly to the belief
that when these vast figures are considered,
together with other equally extensive re
quirements, the chimerical nature of some
of the schemes proposed from time to time
for forming new lines which promise three
and four days' passage across the Atlantic
can easily be discerned. He regards them
as overwhelming proof that insurmountable
difficulties are in the way of any company
or firm without shipping experience who
would create all at once a service more
luxurious and having higher speed than
that now afforded by the existing lines
which would at the same time prove a
financial success.
To Save the Doctor's Hands.
In the necessary use of disinfectants phy
sicians are liable to special affections of tee
skin, redness, eczema, Assuring, etc., and
Dr. Meyer, of Berlin, recommends a treat
ment which be has found of the greatest
benefit in such cases. Every time the hands
have been well washed with a freely lather
ing soap, rinsed and dried, they should bo
well smeared, especially the backs, with a
small quantity of lanoline, which must be
thoroughly rubbed in, the hands being after
ward tubbed free from excess on a cloth. It
is especially essential that the lanoline
should be rubbed into the skin as com
pletely as possible. Its favorable action is
attributed to its property of readily mixing
with water, whereby the moisture remaining
on the skin after insufficient drying of the
hands is taken up bv the lanoline, and the
hands are protected by a minute layer of tat
impenetrable to the' raw air. This is also
an excellent remedy for the face of actors
whose skin has suffered from the application
of paints.
seir Kind or Filter.
An endless traveling band made of any
material snitable for filtering, so arranged
as to assume tor a portion of its length the
form of an open horizontal shallow trough
or cistern, is the latest innovation in filter
ing method'. The band is mounted so as to
cause it to make a slight descent atbne'end
simultaneously to have the two sides or
edges ot the fabric turned up. In this form
the band extends horizontally for a certain
length, and is then made to rise on an in
cline and to spread out flat. A shallow
traveling cistern is thus formed between the
two inclines, wherein the water for filtering
is received. Tne speed of the traveling
band may be regulated in such a way as to
allow it to be coated to any desired degree
with the matter collected from the filtered
liquid, and on continuing to travel it may
be conducted through a cleansing apparatus,
whence it will return cleansed and readyfor
the repetition ot the operation.
Braking ihe Gas Jet Brighter.
As is well known, the light given by an
ordinary coal gas flame is due to the pres
ence of carbon particles in a highly heated
and glowing condition. Those particles can
be collected by placing a cold, white plate
of porcelain or china in a coal gas flame,
when the black carbon will immediately as
sert itself. The thorough consumption of
this carbon adds greatly to the efficiency of
the light, and a new "blender" is said to
effect it. This blender consists simply of a
tin difc suitably fixed on tbe burner. This
enables just as mnch air to be mixed with
tbe gas as will prevent the deposit of
carbon, making a clearer light, while the
disc, assisted by the upward rush of warjn
air, spreads out the flame into, a white sheet
of incandescent and glowing carbon parti
cles. The size of the sheet- is fully twice
that of the zone of light given by the
ordinary burner without the patent and is
said to give double the light
A Scheme for Rapid Photography.
A ferrotype dry plate camera has been in
troduced in London by which it is possible
to turn ont a ferrotype print every few
minutes with an apparatus which, all told,
does not equal a cubic foot in bulk. This
camera dispenses with the necessity for a
dark room, and promises to give rise to a
new industry in penny portraits. Another
device which, will be appreciated by the
large army of amateur photographers in
this country also hails from England. It is
a changing bag that weighs only a few
ounces and packs in a very small compass.
The bag fastens around the head, allowing
the eyes and lower part of the face to go in
side. " The plates are passed through two
sleeve holes which are made to fit tightly
around the wrist by the aid of elastic. The
bag packs up into a convenient form, and
will be of the greatest service to camera
enthusiasts on the warpath.
Making Concrete From Wood.
A new wood concrete invented in Ger
many is composed of a most extraordinary
mixture. Shavings and planing mill chips,
either of common or fancy wobds, which,
maybe stained before use if desiredj'jJre
mixed with casein, calcined magriestan
limestone, glycerine, silicate of soda and a
linseed oiL After being mixed the whole
is forced by hydraulic pressure into molds,
where it is allowed io harden. Whey dry
the composition is said to be so strong and
solid that it can be sawed, planed, polished
and varnished. It is likely to-be utilized
for panels and possibly as a covering for
entire wall surfaces.
Take Good Care or the Children.
If you have children you will be inter,
estcd'in the experience of Mr. John Cook,
of Pilot, Vermilion county, 111. He says:
"Two years ago two of my family, a young
man and a girl, had very severe and danger
ous attacks of bloody flnx. The doctor here
was unable, after a week's time, to checS or
relieve either case. I threw the doctor
overboard and began using Chamberlain's
Colic, Cholera and Diarrhoea Remedy. Im-
Srovement was seen very soon and mr chil
ren arose in a few days from what I feared
would be their death-bed. It is a grand,
good medicine." TuWThsa
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