THE CONSTITUTION THE UNION AND THE ENFORCEMENT -OF THE LAWS. F. BOHWEIEB. I I MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 16.1898. VOL. LII NO. 10. . u 4 v-.. r 1 I 7" CHAPTER I. It wrs the close of vn autumn day, ami Dr. Stephen Letsoni had been standing for some time at his window watching the sun go down. It faded slowly out ol the western sky. There was something ol sadness in tne w no.e - j The doctor evidently shared it The ac . looKin; irom .. but a cheerful one. He was to all intents nd purposes a disappointed man. Years before, when his eyes were bright with the fires of youth, nnd hope was strong In his heart, he had invested such money as he possessed in the purchase of n prac tice at Castledene, and it had proved to be a failure why, no one exactly knew. Castledene wns one of the prettiest little towns in Kent, It had a town-hail, a market-place, a weekly market, and the re mains of a fine old cnstle; but it was prin cipally distinguished for its races, a year ly event which brought a great influx of visitors to the town. It was half buried In foliage, surrounded by dense woods and green hills, with a clear, swift river run ning by. The inhabitants were divided Into three distinct class" the poor, who gained a scanty livelihood by working in the fields, the shop-keepers, and the pen try, the latter class consisting principally of old maids and widows, ladies of un blemished gentility and limited means. Among the latter Dr. Letsom was not popular. He had an unpleasant fashion of calling everything by its right uame. If a lady would tnke a little more stim ulant than was good for her, he could not be persuaded to call her complaint "nervousness;" when idleness and ennui preyed upon s languid frame, he had a startling habit of rousing the patient by mental cautery. The poor idolized him, but the ladies pronounced him coarse, abrupt, unpleasing; and when ladies de cide against a doctor, fate frowns upor aim. ... Matter . were . growing oesperace, thought . Dr. Letsom on thla autumn : long been evincing i at discontent. She had not l gh for her requirements she wanted oney for a nunareu uiuncm iu.ub and the doctor had none to give her. He was almc-Bt tired of the struggle life had not been a grand success with him; he had worked hard, yet nothing had .eemed to prosper. In his early youth he had loved a bright, pretty girl, who j bad looked forward to becoming his wife; but he had never married, s.mpiy Decau.ie he had not had the means, and the pretty girl had died a sad, disappointed woman. Now, as he watched the stars, he fancied them shining on her grave; he fanc.cd the grass waving above her head, so long and cool, studded with large white dais.es; and he wished that he were lying by ht-i aide, free from care, and at rest. He was turning away, with a feeling ol t jutemut for his own weakness, when h wns startled by the sound of 'a vehicle driven furiously down Castle street. Ste phen Letsom stood still and watched. IU saw a traveling carriage, with two horses, driven rapidly up to the door of the prin cipal hotel the Castie Arms and there tnnd for some minutes; but after a time the horses' heads were turned, and then, like a roll of thunder, came the noise of j th n; rrinep wheels, The vehicle drew up before his door, and the doctor stood for a few moments as though pnralyzed. Then came a vio lent pe.il of the door bell; and he, know ing that Mrs. Gaibraith had retired for the evening, went to answer it. There, kwlped, in the starlight, were the hand some traveling carriage, the pair of gray horses, and the postilion. Stephen Let som looked about him like one in a dream. He had been twenty years in the place, yet no carriage had ever stopped at his door. lie heard a quick, impatient voice, say ing: "Are you the doctor Dr. Lptsom?" Looking in the direction of the sound, the doctor saw a tall, distinguished look ing man, wrapped in a traveling cloak a man whose face and manner indicate d at om e that he belonged to the upper ranks of society. Dr. Stephen Letsom was auiek to recognize that fact. i am ine uocior. u , ne repnea qu:etiy tn nUiiost mad. My wife has been sml- aeniy mwen iu. am. u u. noie,. snere ioe, u,.,t . mom in which they can lodire her. the 1 . . . .... - . u i , "I will do what I can," returned the doctor. Had fortane indeed knocked at his door at last? lie went to the carriage door, and, look Ini: inside, saw a lady, young and beau tiful, who stretched out her hands to him. as though appealing for help. "I am very ill," she moaned feebly. lht. .a he stood ycatcWng tne enrysan- i tw uuw-- - i:nrea nc etD.ara. and t f yia g ghJb jSe Ji'gg'OJ .-bftJfl WL unV r, . 22fld inst 1 l:mn 4 i T1 P TL-'- .uha. . rw . . .1 HBr nutiui'iutt r-' uKtti'"i ma con Kmc tie rerusea u in lue mm. ... innr Pr. Letsora guessed so much from her ,,T, . x. , ,., pallid face and shadowed eyes. , .Do fpr the worat. he said "She "What is the matter with your wife?" !n th ;.hnnds of n- fm he asked of the strange gentleman, who ' ,'ly Fd"?ary Precautions. I do not say bent down and whispered something that e,,e 19 ,n ,!nnser I merely say that she la ma.le Dr. Letsom himself look anxious. noi. wel! ns "hu'd iike to see her." "Now. doctor." said the traveler, "it is Z1 hrt'e o clock struck. A sweet voice, nseless to raise objections. You see how "ipt nl -'r. broke the silence of the the matter stands; my wife must stop o.euin scene. . r . here. The hotel is full of visitors-people 'IIu'",t? here IIuDert? I must win. are here for the races. There is no- ,e . w . . wheie else for her to go she must stay A ,fp,w p later Lord Charlewood j,,.re, stood by the side of his young wife. "Wait one moment." said the doctor; I ''H"lert " he said to him with ont and he hastened to rouse his housekeeper, ! Wretched hands. ' Hubert, my husband, I ho, curious and interested, exerted her- m s" fngh'ened. I hey do not tell me elf so as to satisfy even the stranger. tlip ,ruth- Am 1 K,n to d,e? Then the strange lady, all white and j tren:V:iv.', was helped down from the car , bent down to kiss her- ri.ie lu;o ti:e doctor's shabby little par- , 'Die darling? No. certainly not. lor. Am I coing to die?" she asked, raising ! her la rge blue eyes to the doctor's face. I 'Certainly not." he replied promptly; "inu must not think of dying. "Have you any brandy In the nouseT asked the traveler. "See how my wife trembles." . . Av . j t rri ... or e ,or ?utlu" IVitlt' TIT' JLSE:i tient murmur, the stranger called to the postilion and sent him to the Castle Anna with such an order as made Mrs. Gal braitb open her eyes in wonder. Then, without seeming to notice the doctor or jiia servant, he flung hJanU b.v the i.idy's side, and kissed the beauti ul white fact and colorless lips. "My darling," he cried, "this is my fault. I ought not to have asked yon te audertake sucn a journey, onu ; forgive me?" "You did aU for the best, Hubert," she said. The doctor and Mrs. Galbralth led the 6e,utiful trembling K,rl to the r, h&i bM prepared room for her, and, when she was installed therein, the doctor returned to the stranger, who was pacing, with quick, impatient steps, op and down the little parlor. "I should imagine." said the strange jentleman. "that no man like, to plmU guilty to a folly. I must do so. Let me first of all introduce myself to you as I-ord Charlewood. I am the only son of the Earl of Mouutdean, and my father lies dying in Italy. I came of age only last year, and at the same time I fell in love. Now I am not in any way dependent on my father the title and estate are en tailedbut I love him. In these degen erate days it seems perhaps strange to hear a son say that he loves his father. , I have obeyed him all my life from this motive. I would give my life for him. But In one respect I have done that which will cause him great annoyance and an ger. I have married without his kuowl dge." The doctor looked up with great inter est: perhaps his thoughts reverted to the grave In the starlight. Lord Charle wood moved uneasily in his chair. "I cannot say that I am sorry," he con rfnued, "for I love my wife very dearly; but I do wish now that I had been leas hurried, less precipitate. My wife's great loveliness must be my excuse. She is the daughter of a poor curate, the Itever--end Charles Trevor, who came two years ago to supply temporarily the place of the Hector of Lynton. He brought his daugh ter with him; and the first moment I saw her I fell in love with her. My heart seemed to go out from toe and cleave to ner i ovei her with what I can see a' decided manner, and told me to think no more 0f what after all was but a boy's fancy. After a time she consented to a compromise to marry me without my father's knowledge. It was a folly, 1 own; now I see clearly its imprudence then I imagined it the safest and surest way. We were married eleven months go, and I have been so happy since then tj,at it has seemed to me but a single day. I did not take ber home to Wood Lynton, but, laying aside all the trappings of wealth and title, we have traveled frctn place to place as Mr. and Mrs. Charle wood, enjoying our long honeymoon. lint t letter from Italy came like a thunder bolt my father had grown rapidly vore and wanted to see me at once. I cou'd lot endure that he should die without see ing, loving and blessing my wife Mada line. I told ber my desire, and she con sented most cheerfully to accompany me. I ought to have known that in her state of health traveling was most injurious. We started on our fatal journey only this morning. At first my wife semed to enjoy it; and then I saw all the color fad ing from her sweet face. It was not nn til we reached Castledene that she gave in nd told me she corid eo no furthpr. Still fnu say there is no danger, and that you do not think she will die?" "Danger? No, I see none. Life and death lie in the hands of One above us; but humanly speaking, I see no fear of danger." Then came a summons for the doctor from the room above, and Lord Charle w.d was once more left alone. He wa. a young man, and was certainly both a g' nd and honorable one. lie hnd never deliberately done anything wicked on the contrary, he had tried always to do what was best; yet, as he stood there, a strange sense of something wanting came over him. The young wife he loved with such passionate worship was in the hour of need, and he could render no assistance. Later on a strange hush had fallen over tlie doctor's house. It was past one in the morning; the sky wns overcast; the wind was moaning fitfully, as though a storm was brewing in the autumn air. The dew lay thick and heavy on the ground, i Inside the house was the strange hush th.lt danerous gickne5s always brings with it. The doctor had In haste snm- I moned the best nurse in Castledene, Him nah Furnev, wj,o shook her head gravely, wh(,n fhfk Baw the bpnutifuI )e faoe A . , . r uour pnsseo, anu once more ur. Letsora ii'ti-lu his distinguished guest. "I am sorry not to bring better news le said. "Lady Mrs. Charlewood ts rH so well as I had hoped she would be." The sudden flash of agony that came into Lord Charlewood's face tru a reve lation to Dr. Ijptsnm; he laid his hand with a gentle touch on the stranger's arm. ; xou are going to live, to De wnat yos. wwaya Have been, the dearest, aweetes " e ln wnoie worm. Then the doctor bade him leave her he must go down to the shabby, lowly little room, where the gas was burning, and the early dawn of the morning was coming in. Suddenly he heard a sound that stirred the very depths of his heart that brought a crimson flush to tear, to hi. eye.. It wa. , his face the faint I crj- of a little child. Presently he heard the footsteps of Dr. Letsom; and the next ' minnte the doctor was standing beforr him, with a grave look on his face. "Yog. hayt a Uttle lUo&hler," ha said a beautiful little girl but your wife ii In dauger; you had better come and ac her." Even he the doctor accustomed t scenes of sorrow and desolation, wai startled by the cry of pain that cam.? from the young man's lips. At five o'clock the young wife died ah. had given up ber life for her child. CHAPTER IT. On the western slope of the little coun try churchyard, where the warmest and brightest snnbeams lay, under the shnda of the rippling lime-trees, they laid Lady Charlewood to rest. For long years af terward the young husband was to carry with him the memory of that green grassy grave. A plain white cross bore for th present her name; it said simply: In Loving Memory of M VDALINK OHAKLEWOOD, who died in her 20th year. Erected by Her Sorrowing Husband. "When I give her the maonument she deserves," he said, "I can add no more." Then came the morrow, when he bad to look his life in the face agai-n life that he found so bitter without Mada llne. What of little Madaline, the child wh nad her dead mother's large blue eyps and golden hair? Again Lord Charle wood and the doctor aat in solemn con clave; this time the fate of the little out hung in the balance. Lord Charlewood said that if he found his father still weak and ill, he should keep the secret of his marriage. Of course, if Madaline had lived, all would have been different he would have proud ly owned it then. But she was dead. The child was so young and so feeble, it seem ed doubtful whether it would live. What need, then, to grieve the old earl by the story of his folly and his disobedience? Iet the secret remain. Stephen Letsom quite agreed with him in this; no one knew better than himself how dangerous was the telling of bad or disagreeabU news to a sick man. And then Lord Charlewood added: "You have indeed been a friend in need to me. Dr. Letsom. Money can no more repay such help as yours than can thanks; all my life I shall be grateful to you. I am going now to Italy, and most probably X shall -remain there until the enrl, my father, grows better, or the end comes. When I return to England, my first care shall be to forward your views and pros pects in life: until then I want you to take charge of my child." Among the doctor's patients was on a-ho had Interested him very much Mar garet Dornham. She had been a lady's maid. She was a pretty, graceful wom an, gentle and intelligent worthy of a far better lot than had fallen to her.share. 6he ought to have married a well-to-do tradesman, for whom she would have made a most suitable wife; but she had given her love, to a haudsone--ue'er-do-well, with whom she had never hiVl one moment of peace or,-happiness, rtenry nestw borne a good chirac- gypsy-like beauty-Abut r-ouitlifications. He was neither Industrious, nor honest, nor sober. His handsome face, his dark eyes, and rich curling ht had won the heart of the pretty, graceful, gentle lady's maid, and she had n-arried him only to rue the day and hour in which she had first seen him. They lived in a picturesqne Uttle cot tage called Ashwood. and there Marga-tt Dornham passed through the greatest Joy nnd greatest sorrow of her life. Her little child, the one gleam of sunshine that her darkened life had ever known, was born in the little cottage, and there it had died. Dr. Ietsom, who was too abrupt for the ladies of Castledene, had watched with the greatest and most untiring car aver the fragile life of that little child. When a tender nurse and foster-mothei was needed for little Madaline. the doc tor thought of Margaret Doinham. He felt that all difficulty was at an end. He sent for her. Even Iord Charlewood looked with interest at the graceful, timid woman, whose fair young face was wo deeply marked with lines of care. "Will I takp charge of a little child?" she replied to the doctor's question. "In deed I will, and thank heaven for send ing me something to keep my heart from breaking." "You feel the loss of your own little jne very keenly?" said Lord Charlewood. "You will spare neither expense nor trou ble," he continued, "and when I return you shall be most richly recompensed. If all goes well, and the little one prospers with you, I shall leave her with you for two or three years at least. You have been a lady's insid, the doctor tells me. In what families have you lived?" "Principally with Lady L'Estrange. ol Verdun Royal, sir." she replied. "I loft because Miss L'Estrange was growing up, and my lady wished to have a French maid." In after years he thought how strange rt was that he should have asked the question. "I want you," said Lord Charlewood. "to devote yourself entirely to the little one; you will be so liberally paid as not to need work of any kind. I atn going abroad, but I leave Dr. Letsom as the guardian of the child; apply to him for everything you want, as you will not b able to communicate with nie." In all things Margaret Dornham prom I'Pil'obedience. One would have thought she had found a great treasure. To her kindly, womanly heart, the fact that she once more held a little child in her nnns was a source of the purest hnppiness. The only drawback was when she reached home, and her husband laughed coanely at the sad little story. "You have done a good day's work Maggie," he said; "now I shall expect you to keep me, and I shall take it easy." He kept his word, and from that day made no further effort to earn any money. Faithful, patient Margaret never com plained, and not even Dr. Letsom knew how the suffering of her daily life had in creased, even though she was comforted by the love of the little child. CHAPTER III. The day came when Ixrd Charlewood was to say good-by to his little daughter, and the friends who had been friends in deed. Maragret Dornham was sent for. When she arrived the two gentlemen were in the parlor, and she was shown in to them. Every detail of that Interview was impressed on Margaret's mind. The table was strewn with papers, and Lotd Charlewood, taking some In his band, said: "You should have a safe place for those, doctor. Strange event, happen in life. They might possibly be required some day s evidence of Identification." "Not much fear of that," returned the ioctor, with a smile. "Still, as you say. It Is bent to be cautieaa." "Here Is the first you may as well keep it with the rest," said Lord Charlewood; "it is a copy of my marriage certificate. J men yon hare here th. ceroncates or my little daughter's birth and of my poor wife's death. Now we will add to these a signed agreement between yon and my self for the sum I have spoken about." Rapidly enough Lord Charlewood filled j op another paper, which was signed by (he doctor and jiimsetf ; thenStepb.es Let- om gatheroi thein all together. Margaret Dornham saw him take from the side board a plain oaken box bound in brass, and lock the papers In it. They parted, the two who had been to strangely brought together parted with a sense of liking and trust common among Englishmen who feel more than they express On arriving at his destination, to his freat joy, and somewhat to his surprise. Lord Charlewood found that his father was better; he had been afraid of finding him dead. The old man's Joy on seeing bis son again was almost pitiful in its excess he held his hands in his. In the first excitement of such happiness Lord Charlewood did not dare to tell his father the mournful story of his marriage and of his young wife's untimely death. Then the doctors told him that the old earl might live for .ome few year, longer, but that he would require the greatert care; be certainly had heart disease, and any sudden excitement, any great anxiety, any cause of trouble might kill him at once. Knowing this. Lord Charlewood did not dare to tell his secret; it would have been plunging his father into danger uselessly; beside, which the telling of it was useless now his beautiful wife was dead, nnd the child too young to be rec ognized it made of consequence. For two years and a half the Earl of Mouutdean lingered; the fair Italian clime, the warmth, the sunshine, the flow ers, all seemed to join in giving him new life. During this time his son had every six months sent regular remittances to England, and had received In return most encouraging letters about little Madaline. Bhe was growing strongand beautiful; she was healthy, fair and happy. She could tay his name; the could sing little baby songs. Once the doctor cut a long golden brown curl from her little head and sent It to him; but when he received it the enrl lay dying, and the son could not show his father his little child's hair. He died as he had lived, loving and trusting his son, clasping his hand to the last, and mur muring sweet and tender words to him. Lord Charlewood's heart smote him as he listened, he had not merited such implicit faith and trust. "Father," he said, "listen for one mo ment! Can you hear me? I did marry Madaline I loved her so dearly, I could aot help It I married her; nnd she died ttne year afterward. But she left me a little daughter. Can you hear me, fath er?" No gleam o light came into the dying fyes, no consciousness into the quiet face; die enrl did noj hear. When, at last, hig ton had made .up his mind to reveal his secret, it was loo late for his father to hear and he died without knowing it. He died, and waa brought back to Eng land, and buried with great pomp and magnificence; and then his son reigned In his stead, and became Earl of Mount lean. The first thing that he did after his father's fnneral was to go down to Castledene; he had made all arrangements for bringing his daughter and heiress home. He was longing moat impatiently to ce her; but when he reached the little town a shock ot surprise awaited him that almost cost him his life. CHAPTER IV. Dr. Letsora had prospered; one gleam f good fortune had brought with it a sudden outburst of sunshine. The doctor had left his little house in Castle street, and had taken a pretty villa just outside Castledene. He bore his good fortune as be had borne his ill fortune, with great equanimity; It had come too late. The greatest happiness he had now in life was his love for little Madaline. Besides his great love for the little Madaline, he be :anie interested in the story of Margaret Dornham's life in her love for the hand luine, reckless ne'er-do-well who had giv iu up work ns a failure in her wonderful patience, for she never complained in ber sublime heroism, for she bore all as a martyr. ' So the two years and a half passed, and :he child, with her delicate, marvelous frace, had become the very light of those two lonely lives. In another six months they would have to lose her. Dr. Ix-tsom knew very well that if the earl were still living at the end of the three years his ion would tell him of his marriage. On a bright, sunshiny day in June the ioctor walked over to Ashwood. He had i little pat ket of fruit and cakes with him, and a wonderful doll, dressed most royally. "Madaline," he cried, as he entered the cottage, and she came running to him, "should you like a drive with me to morrow? I am going to Corfell, and 1 will promise to take you if you will be a .H1 girl." She promised for a drive with the doc tor was her greatest earthly delight. "Uiiiig her to my house about three to morrow afternoon, Mrs. Dornham," luiid Dr. Letsom, "and she shall have her drive." Margaret promised. When the time came she took the little one, dressed in her pretty white frock; and as they sat In the drawing room, the doctor was brought home to his house dead. It was such a simple yet terrible acci dent that had killed him. A poor man had been injured by a kick from a horse. For want of better accommodation, he had been carried up into a loft over a stable, where the doctor attended him. In the loft was an open trap door, through which trusses of h y and straw were rais ed and lowered. No one warned Dr. Let som about it. The aperture was covered with straw, and he, walking quickly across, fell through. There was hut one comfort he did not suffer long. Margaret Dornham nnd the little child sat waiting for him when the sad pro cession stopped at the door. "The doctor is dead!" was the cry from one to another. A terrible pain shot through Margaret's head. Dead! The kindly man, who had been her onlj friend, dead I Then per haps the child would be taken frow her, and. she should see it no more! An impulse, for which she could hardly account, and for which she was hardly re sponsible, seized her.. She must have tbe box that contained the papers, lest, find ing the papers, people should rob her of the child. Quick as thought, she seized the box which always stood on a bracket In the drawing r, m and hid it under her shawl. To the end of her life she was puzzled as to why she had done this. It would not be missed, she knew, in the confusion that was likely to ensue. She felt sure, also, that no one, save herself and the child'a father, knew of it. con tents. She did not wait long in that scene ol confusion and sorrow. Clasping the child in her arms, lest she should see the dead face, Margaret Dornham hurried back to the cottage, bearing with her Uie proofs of the child's Identity. The doctor was buried, and with him all trace of the child seemed lost. Care ful search was made in his house for any letters that might concern her, that might give her father's address; but Stephen LeUom had been faithful to his promise he had kept the secret. .There was noth ing that could give the least clew. There were no letters, no memoranda; and, af ter a time, people came to the conclusion that It would be better to let the child re main whra aha w, lor ber father would be rare In time to hear of the doctor's death and to claim her. So September came, with its glory ot autumn leaves. Just three years had elapsed since Lady Charlewood had died; and then the great trouble of her lift came to Margaret Dornham. To bo Continued. Useful tilnti. For mildew, use lemon juice ana sun shine. If the mark is obstinate dissolve one tablespoonfnl of chloride of lime in four quarts of cold water and soak the article until mildew disappears. Rinse very thoroughly to avoid any chemical action upon the linen. Crass stains may be removed by cream of tartar and water. After stains are re moved, to keep table linen at its best, souk in cold water until the dirt is loos ened, wring out and put in cold water with shaved soap, and bring to a boil, lloil twice rather than rub, as the rubbing wears the fabric. Rinse out the soap carefully and be careful about the bluing as much of the bluing used, contains iron. If a little stiffness is needed, add thin starch to the bluing water, or iron the article while damp. An excellent perfume for perfuming clothes that are packed away, and which will reluin its properties for a long time, can be made in the following way: Pound to a powder one ounce each of cloves, caraway seed, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon and Totiqtiin beans; also, as much orris root us will equal the weight of all the foregoing ingredients. All that is needed is to till little bags of muslin with this mi xl lire and lay them among the gar ments. When stovepipe cleaning is in progress, be as careful as one will, there is pretty sure to le more or less soot dropped upon the carpet. There is never any need of being very much alarmed over this, how ever, for if an equal quuntity of salt be added to the stmt and the whole swept up together. lher will scarcely be a trace of the latter left. The drying of clothes in frosty weather is sometimes, in the case of delicate fab rics, attended with tearing, because of the quick stiffening in the very cold air. A simple precaution which will prevent any such trouble, is to dissolve three or four handfuls of coarse salt in the last rinsing water, thus making it, in fact, u week brine. Articles so rinsed will not suffer from or stiffen with the cold. In case of fire, quickly close all do-rs and windows to check the draught, as this may enable you to confine the fire to a single room. A stale loaf may be freshened by dip ping it in scalding water for an instant and then placing it in the oven until dry. Mud stains can be easily removed from silk by rubbing with a piece of flannel. If the stain proves obdurate, rub with a piece of linen saturated with alcohol. One of the most convenient things for washing the inside of lamp chimneys, is a piece of sheepskin with the wool on, tucked around the end of, a stick of convenient length. This is easy to keep clean, and will dry quickly. A little whiting dissolved in the boil ing wuier in which the silver is cleaned laily, will remove all grease and dullness md make the weekly polishing almost unueccessary. They should be well driev nd rubbed afterward. Stage Gossip. Joseph Jefferson is a millionaire. Elita Proctor Otis will star in "Oliver fwist." Marie Corelli has dramatized her novel 'Barabbas." Delia Vox expects to star next season n "I.a Poiipoe." Frederick Warde will probably go into .amleville in the near future. A French opera company that has leen playing in Costa Rica will shortly e seen in New Orleans. Von I'rittiwitz Palm is designing the llusions for Lillian Burkhart'a fairy lay, "The Lady of the Kowan Tree." Joseph Jefferson has asked Rose Cogh an to play Mrs. Malaprop in his pre diction of "The Rivals" next season. Hume is not rie for D'Annunzio's days. The "Spring Morning's Dream" vas hissed recently at the Teatro Valle, hough Duse was acting. A. B. Sloane, coinKser of the music or "Jack and the lieanstalk" and sev iral other pieces, has gone into partner hip with J. (. Saville, and their first mtput will be "All in the Family," a nusical comedy. Anita Vivanti Chartres is the author ;ss of "That Man." which A. M. l'almee vill produce; "Her ladyship," which s to be used at the New York Casino, and (Jood and Evil," which Klconora Duse ins accepted. Ida Mulle has secured the rights to a iumlK-r of Lot la's plays, and will star n them next season. Richard Carroll did Miss Mulle appeared in Boston rn Monday last in the 'Normandy Weildii g" '" Papa (Sou tiou"). The Castle Spuare management have recently made an important offer to Miss Dorothy Morton, which she is still con sidering. They wish to engage her with the privilege of renewal for a year le yond the expiration of the first contract. At Auburn, Ind., the Maekey Thea trical Company was fined $10 and costs for distributing improper literature, by Judge Roby. Their attorneys replevined the line and costs, and the company signed a written agreement to leave the btate within 24 hours. Industrial. The Centreville, Rhode Island, cotton mills were closed on account of the strike of the weavers. There will be no strike of the textile workers at Lawrence, Massachusetts, for the present. 1 The 5000 operatives at the Atlantic and Pacific cotton mills, at I-awrence, Massa chusetts, decided to accept the 10 per cent, reduction in wages. About forty employes of the bleaching department of the "American Printing Company, at Fall River, struck work liecause of an excessive reduction in wages, which they claim has lcpn made. 2 Our Clothes. Dr. Von Bebbci, a German nieteorol jgist, has determined how Lot are the clothes we wear. When the outside temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit the temperature of the coat is 71.2 ( grees. that between the coat and th. waistcoat 73.C degrees, between waist coat and shirt 75.9 degrees, between shirt and undershirt 77.4 degrees, and between the woolen undershirt and the skin 90. Nothinu New Under tho frun. "It flatters her dreadfully," they ob served. In respect of the Roentgen protograph. "Why, anybody can see that her skeleton was padded. Yes." Wherein It was made to appear that the Zeitgeist would rise early In the morning to get ahead of the ewing weibliche. I: troit Tribune. Persia has one glass mill. In 1813 there were only 250.000 spin les for yarn spinning in Russia. Now do re are 6,000,000. (toear Charlton Wa. la Actual for Flftyoa Tears Apropos of th. lwg serrrce wMefc ome railroad mea bars see a, aa lntar atlniT st-ry Is told of a maa who Is a a rinhtl. ko Mi. MDd,(. In th United States, If year. eaUbll.h ' a raoord. Ilia nam. Is Osear Charlton, : and he was connected with th. Gen tral railroad from 183? to 1888. placing the number of years In aotual servlc at fifty -one. Mr. Charlton bow Htm at Quytoo, 111. He says at the time of which he speaks th Central railroad bad been built from Savannah, 111., to Pooler, a distance of ten miles. The roadbed was of light and Insecure con struction, unfit for fast or regular ser vice. The company Imported two lo comotives from Charleston, and they were placed on the narrow-gauge track. Mr. Charlton says that in comparison to the giant mogul of our day they strongly reminded htm of a dog and an elephant. They were small, cabless af fairs, known as the Tennessee and Georgia. Charlton was the conductor of the first train that traversed the road, and when the terminus was reached In an hour, the owner. Colonel W. W. Gordon, was dumfounded. "Ten O'CAB CHARLTOIT. miles an hour:" he exclaimed. "Won derful! wonderful! wonderful !" The Central system, of which this was the beginning, now embraces many bun Jreds of miles. NEW UNICYCLE. a Contrivance Which, It I. Promised, Will Eclipse All Bicycle Records. The latest novelty In wheels Is a nnl jycle, which it Is promised will eclipse ill records of the bicvcle. The contrivance is tBe Invention of Emory B. Sowers, of Wesrvllle, Ohio, who has succeeded in making surprls ugly fast time on It. The motive pow r of this Invention Is obtained by the ase of a safety, which can be fitted to X.A1ES CYIL1.NG KOVF.LTT. and be taken from the large wheel without much loss of time. It Is clalm ?d the new machine will make It possi ble to develop a much higher rate of speed than the ordinary form with the same expenditure of energy. The unicycle is guided by the handle bars the same as an ordinary. The rider's weight may be thrown or shift ed by turning these, which. In turn, guide Ibe larger wheel In the same di rection. The. new unicycle may bo .'hanged to a safety by taking off the. top wheel and putting a wheel In the front forks as In the ordinary cycles. Paper Bags Tor Bread. A novel improvement has been made by one of the most prominent bakers mt Berlin, which Is the natural conse quence of the Increasing tendency to ?mploy hygienic methods In erery trade dealing with food and food supplies. While rolls have long been delivered In paper bags to customers. It has always been the rule to handle loaves with the fingers, each loaf going through a number of hands before delivered at the consumer's door, there to be re ceived by the bare, often not too ciean, fingers of the servant The recent Im provement, which has been covered by patents, consists of using paper bags the exact shape of the various sizes of bread turned out by a baker. These bags are open at both ends, and, being slightly longer than the loaf, the ends are turned together with a twist as the loaf is shoved from the oven straight Into the bag. This cover will protect the bread from any pollution after It leaves the oven, as the loaf Is kept In the bag not only while being handled In the bakery and by the delivery man, but while the loaf Is being used, being cut at one end as the loaf gets kiiorter. The new system has found a very quick spread, and the beat bakeries, which at once Introduced the new Im provement, gained by Its adoption. Bank Note Over 80 Tear Old. After orer eighty years from Its Is sue a 1 note of Fector's Dover bank. In England, bearing data 1816, has Just been presented In Dover for payment. The bank was taken over by the Na tional Provincial some sixty years ago. The note was found In a book, the property of an old lady who died re cently in South Wales. It has been se cured by the Dover coroner. Provided for Her Oat. "By the death of a cat, the Tempi quarter In Paris," says the Boston Transcript, "receive, a legacy of 10,000 francs for Its elementary schools. Th cat's mistress, who died In 1802, left the money for the maintenance of bet pet cat, with the reversion at its death to the district municipality if It would look after the cat. It speaks well foi the honesty of the trustees that the cat which is now dead at the age of II year, should have inrrlTed Its Biatrial ST JIM," V SERMONS OF THE DAY ' '"" "Glint." u the Sobjert of th. Twelfth of th Jew Herald'. Competitive SmnoM-i Dr. Talmas;. Preaehe. on the Stjla of the Christian Character. Text: "There were giants in those days." -Genesis, vi., 4. This text represents the wall of the mor bid roan who refuses to enter into the ac tivities of life and finds no fit leadership among the men of to-day. He views the men of yesterday, and, by comparing them with bis own nothingness, calls them giants. Unwilling to follow bis rightful leaders, he pines for the mighty men of the past. If the wall were only the expression ot dissatisfied donothlngs In the world it would be ot little account; but the cry re garding the ancient giants has connected with it an Inference that no giants exist to day, because there is no opportunity for giant life. This pseudo reverence for tb great men ot the past carries with It the poisonous pessimism that says, "There can be no giants now." It is discouragement boiled down and sugar-coated with a pious worship of ancient worthies. "Cffisar, Napoleon and Wellington wers great generals, but there never will be any more;" "There will never be another poet like Homer;" "No more orators like Burke, Pitt and Webster;" "No more preachers like Wesley, Whitefleld and Edwards;" "No such statesmen as Madison and Jefferson." "There is no chance for such men to-day, and no demand for them." This is a fair specimen of the Idle talk ot men who pretend to appreciate the great ness of the fathers, and with this pious plaint nnnerve the ambition of youth. Were this simply the silly talk ot imbecility no protest from the pulpit would be In place, but In behalf of discouraged youth I pur pose to enter an unquaiitled denial of the spirit of all this word. Bid It not seem like impious rejection of sacred writ, I would afllrm that there were no giants In those days. The men ot yesterday were not so great as the men of to-day. Physically men are better than ever be fore. The average men of to-day Is too large to wear the English armor discarded by giant warriors of a few centuries back. The collegian of to-day surpasses the ancient Olympian. Cicero and Demosthenes were giants In oratory by comparison. Orators were few and poor at that time, so these were easily noted. There are better preachers to-day than Wesley. Edwards Is far surpassed in truthful presentation of the word by modern sermon makers. Bis marck, Blaine and Gladstone overshadow ancient men in Statecraft. Macauley tells us that men usually put the golden age of England at a time "when noblemen vera destitute of comforts which would cause riot in a modern workhouse." Ho men are constantly placing the age of mental and spiritual greatness in times when men were conspicuous not so much for their own individual merit as because of the lack of ordinary merit among their fel lows. In a very true sense we may say that In the lisht of the nineteenth century men there were no giants In those days. There is a proper egotism which boasts of to-day, and imperiously declares that no such men lived in the past as our generation has proaucea, 1lJ"rD'Dg 'rom th's- 8my bo with def erence to the coniinsr man. The vonth nf to-day may rise above the best of tlieli fathers. There was never a greater call for giants than now; not a giant here and there, but a race ot giants. Every profes sion is crowded with little men and is seeking for giants. Professions, like sky scrapers, have vacant rooms on the top Boor. Kailroads are anxious for first class men; editorial offices will give handsome salar ies to skilful writers; pulpits seek com manding preachers; corporations seek in vain for properly qualified counsel; the na tion calls for better statesmen, the oolloges for better teachers, the merchants for bet ter salesmen, the manufacturers for better artisans. "Top floors for rent" H hung out at every corner. Inviting boys who are willing and able to climb the old-fashioned stairs. There is no elevator for carrying Idle seekers to the top of business and pro fessional life. Men who work at the head of a profession or business must have strength, and that strength best comes by toiling up to the high places. Giants are not born, they are made. In herited adaptability will have some bear ing, but earned qualities will have more. Common strength, common sense, common honesty are the flrst requisites. The gen ius of hard work, frugality of time and power, controlled by an indomitable "I will," must enter Into the makeup of a gieat man. Time, money and nerve pow er dissipated by young men, not in true retreation and 'relaxation, but in Idle loit ering, would, if truly directed, make many greit. Nor will we foriret that "Godliness is prolUable." The ;iaots spoken of in Gene sis wer grandsons of God; the giants of to-day are real sons of God. The strong est men are they that aM strong In the Lord. Jesus is the giant ot the age, and the nearer related to Jesus the more gi gantic is man. Christian qualities are realizable assets, for Christ rules to-day more than all earthly potentates. Men who sooff at religion desire Christlike qual ities In their employes. Faith, hope and charity are fit emblems for the market, for eommerce and the pro fession. There are Calvarys along the road to greatness; men must bear crosses if they wonld rise. "It is good for a man that be bear the yoke In his youth." It Is more than good it Is essential; and the Christ yoke Is the typical emblem bv which- men may work themselves, by the grace of God to be present day giants. James A. Chambeblix, Ph. D., Pastor of First Congregational Church of Newark, N. J. KIND OF PEOPLE NEEDED. Dr. Talmag. Describes th. Stjla of Christian Character Required To-d.y. Text: "Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" Esther iv., 14. Esther the beautiful was the wife ot Ahasuerus the abominable. The time had come for her to present a petition to her infamous husband in behalf of the Jewish nation, to which she had once belonged. Bhe was afraid to undertake the work, lest she should lose her own life; but her oousin, Mordecai, who bad brought her up, en couraged her with the suggestion that probably she had been raised up of God for that peculiar mission. "Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" Esther bad ber God-appotnted work. You and I have ours. It is my business to tell you what style of men and women yon ought to be in order that you meet the de mand of the age In which God has cast your lot. So this discourse will not deal with the technicalities, but only with the practicabilities. What we want Is practi cal, earnest, concentrated, enthusiastic and triumphant help. in the flrst place, in order to meet the special demand of this age, you need to be an unmistakable, aggressive Christian. Of half-and-half Christians we do not want inv more. The Church ot Jesus Christ will be better without them. They are the ;hief obstacle to the church's advance ment. I am speaking of another kind ot Christian. All the appliances for your be soming an earnest Christian are at your band, and there Is a straight path for yon Into the. broad day light of God's forgive ness. You may this moment be the bonds men of the world, and the next moment you may be princes of the Lord God Al mighty. But yon need to be aggressive Christians. tad not like those persons who spend their lives in hugging their Christian graces and wondering why they do not make progress, lfow much robustness of health would a man have if he hid himself in a dark closet? A trreat deal ot the pietv of to-day is too exclusive. It hides itself. It needs mora fresh air, more ontdoor exercise. There are many Christians who are giving their entire life to self-examination. This style of self-examination is a dame age instead of an advantage to their Chris tian character. I remember when I was a boy I used to have a small piece in the garden that I called my own. and I planted i corn there, and every few days I" would J pull it up to see how fast it was growing, Now, there are a great many Christian peo file in tnts day wnose seit-examl nation mjre y amounts to the pulling up of that which they only yesterday or the day before planted. Oh. my friends, if "yon want to have a stalwart Christian character, plant It right out of doors in the great field of Christian usefulness, and though storms may come upon it, and though the hot snn of trial may try to consume it, it will thrive until it becomes a great tree, in which the fowls of heaven may have their habitation. I have no patience with these flower-pot Christians. They keep them selves under shelter, and all their Chris tian experience in a small, exclusive circle, when they ought to plant It in the great garden of the Lord, so that the whole at mosphere oould be aromatlo with their Christian usefulness. What we want In the church of God is more strength of piety. Again, if you want to be qnalifled'to meet the duties which this age demands' of you, you must, on the one hand, avoid reckless iconoclasm and, on the other hand, not stick too much to things because they are old. The air Is full of new plans, new pro jects, new . theories of government, new theologies, and I an amazed .to see how so many Christians want only novelty in order to recommend a thing to their confidence; and so they vacillate and swing to and fro, and they are useless and they are unhappy. New plans secular, ethical, philosophical,' religious, els-Atlantic, trans-Atlantic long enough to make a line reaching ;from the German universities to Great Salt Lake City. Ah, my brother, do not take hold of a thing merely because It is new! Try it by the irealities of the Judgment Day. Bnt on the other hand, do not adhere to any thing merely because it Is old. There is not a single enterprise of the church of the world but has sometime .been scoffed at. There was a time when men derided even Bible societies, and when a few young men met in Massachusetts and organized the first missionary society ever organized in this country there went laughter and ridi cule all around the Christian Church. All the great enterprises in and out of the Church have at times been scoffed at, and there have been a great multitude who have thought that the chariot of God's truth would fall to pieces if it once got out of the old rut. And so there are those who have no patience with anything like Im provement In church architecture, or with anything like good, hearty, earnest church singing, and thev deride any form ot re ligious discussion which goes down walk lug among everyday men, rather than that which makes an excursion on rhetorical stilts. Oh, that the Church of God would wake up to an adaptihiiity of workl We must admit the simple fact that the churches of Jesus Christ in this day do not reach the great masses. There are fifty thousand people in Edinburgh who never hear the gospel. There are one million people in London who never bear the gospel. Ah, my friends, there is work "or you to do and for me to do in order to this grand accomplishment. I have a pulpit. I preach in it. Your pulpit is the bank. Your pul pit is the store. Your pulpit Is the e litorial chair. Your pulpit Is the anvil. Your pul pit is the house scaffolding. Your pulpit Is the mechanics' shop. I may stand in my place and, through cowardice or through self-seeking, may keep back the word I ought to utter while you, with sleeve rolled up and brow besweated with toil, may utter the word that will jar the foundations of heaven with the shout of a great victory. Oh, tbat we might all feel that the Lord Al mighty is putting upon us the hands of or dination! I tell you, every one, go forth and preach this Gospel. You have asranab. right to preach as i ha'V " -'J1 Ing. I remark again that in order to i qualified to meet your duty in this par ticular age you want unbounded faith in the triumph of the truth and the over throw ot wickedness. How dare the Christian Church ever get discouraged? Have we not the Lord Almighty on our side? How long did It take God to slay the hosts oi Sennacherib or burn Bolom or shake down Jericho? How long will it take God, when he onee arises in his strength, to overthrow all the forces of iniquity? Between this time and that there may be long seasons of darkness, and the chariot wheels of God's Gospel may seem to drag heavily; but here is the promise and yonder Is the throne, and when omniscience has lost its eyesight and omnipotence falls back Impotent and Jehovah is driven from his throne, then the Church of Jesus Christ can afford to be despondent, but never nntll then. Despots may plan aud aravicc may march and the Congresses of the nations may seem to think they are ad justing all the affairs of the world, but the mighty men of the earth are only the dust of the chariot wheels of God's providence. And I think before the sun of the next cen tury shall set the last tyranny will fall, and with a splendor of demonstration that shall be the astonishment of the universe God will set forth the brightness and pomp and glory and perpetuity of His eternal govern ment. Out of the starry flags and the em blazoned insignia ot this world God will make a path for His own triumph, and re turning from universal conquest He will sit down, the grandest, highest throno of earth His fooUtoc! I prepare this seiii!ilvwuse I want encourage all Christian wo.'itsr'f everyt. possible department. Hosts of the living God. march on! march onl His Spirit will ' bless you. His shield will defend yon. His sword will strike for you. March onl ainrh onl The despotisms will fail and paganism will burn its idols, and Mahome :anism will give up Its false prophet, and :he great walls of superstition will come lown In thunder and wreck at the long, loud blast of the Gospel trumpet. March Dn! march on! The besiegement will soon be ended. Only a few more steps on the long way: only a few more sturdy blows: only a few more battle cries, then God will put the laurels upon your brow, and from the living fountains of heaven will bathe oft the sweat and the heat and the dust of the conflict. March on! march onl For you the time for work will soon be passed, and amid the outflash tngs of the judgment throne aud the trum- Eetlng of resurrection angels and the np eaving of a world of graves, and the ho panna and the groaning of the saved and the lost, we shall be rewarded for our faith fulness or punished for our stupidity. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting and let the whole earth be filled with His glory. Amen and amen. V WOMEN OF ABYSSINIA.. . They Are Said to Be Very Beantlfnl, bnt They Are of Many Color. The Abyssinian women are sn Id to he very beautiful. They are of different colors, some Jet black, others copper colored and others fair. They are noted for their yery pretty soft hands, which are to small that in general they will pass thnetogh the bracelets which fit Wiser iWaitta. They" use mutton fat in Use Arestrthg of their hair, and sleep utroa. liUows, upon which they rest on&r aha neck, much like the Japanese. The women do all the work connected witii the household and the men scorn to do anything of a domestic nature. The women do not fight in battle, though they go to the field and take care of the wounded. They are often given charge of the captives, and dur ing Gen. Dye's trip one of the doctors escaped through a woman who fell la lore with him. Abyssinia Is said to be the land of free love. Marriage seldom lasts any length of time. Couples marry and separate at pleasure. Upon separation they divide the children. The eldest son goes to the mother and the eldest daughter to the father. If there Is but coo daughter, and all the rest are sons, the father gets the girL bnt If there Is one son and all the rest daughters, the boy goes to the mother. - I i i - 5. r
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers