Lucknow Sentinel, 1907-09-18, Page 2| THE SACRIFICE
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OR
FOR HER FAMILY’S SAKE.
CHAPTER VI.—(Continued).
She had a long time to wait. Could
he have forgotten that she was waiting
here? And Katie was by no means ac
customed to wait. What did she care
if he had .promised a book to Lora?
What did it mean? Katie made up her
mind to study this book a little, before
she gave it to Lora. She did not be
lieve in this, sort of thing. Lora was a
hypocrite. She so often blushed when
they mat the doctor in the walks, or
when any one mentioned his name.
Katie suddenly stamped her foot and
clenched her fist. She could have
shaken Lora for sheer vexation, and
ye1 she did not know for What. She
would go away, and yet she was held
back by the thought that she must find
cut what it was about the book.
At last he came. The book was wrap
ped up in a newspaper. “Were you
afraid?” he asked. “You ought to 'have
gene in to my mother.”
“I am not afraid,” she replied cross
ly. She snatched the book out of his
hand. “Is there anything else I can
do?”
“No; Fraulein von Tollen knows about
it. But perhaps it may interest you to
know that I cannot give the lesson in
literature next Thursday, because I am
going away for a week.”
“Indeed! A pleasant journey!” She
meant it to sound very indifferent.
“It is not a journey of pleasure," tie
remarked, “I am going to a philology
meeting, in Maniz. But we will go
now. I will accompany you ho,me.”
“No, thank you," she replied, “I
should much prefer to go alone. Good
evening.”
Katie fled through the garden, out
into the street, as if she feared pursuit.
Not until she got into the street that
led into the town did she go more
slowly; but then the book burned like
fire in her hand. She stopped under a
gas-lamp beside the bridge, and looked
at the packet.
It was tied up with a string and fast
ened with a seal. Her mouth took on
a cold, scornful expression, which
■made the young face look older by
many years. Her fingers twitched as
if they must break the seal, but she left
it untouched.
“It is shameful!” she murmured, hur
rying on with redoubled haste.
She rushed noisily into the door of
her father’s house, and, as she heard
Lora’s voice in the kitchen, she stood
the next moment before her sister, who
was busy at the stove, getting ready
her father’s supper.
“Here!” she exclaimed in a hoarse
tone, holding out the packet to Lora,
“here is your book.”
“What book?” was the surprised in
quiry.
“The book from Dr. Schonberg. You
needn’t look so surprised. Take it. I
am not anxious to stand here holding
it to you.”
Lora took the saucepan, in which her
father’s bio th was cooking, from the
fire, and then took the packet. Katie
stood with folded arms, watching her
sister as she stood at the kitchen-table
before the little kerosene lamp, untied
the string, and took a book out of the
wrapper. As she opened it a slip of
paper fell to the floor, unobserved by
her. Katie did not stir.
Lora shook her head.
“A Greek lexicon- Katie, there must
be some mistake."
The young girl laughed aloud.
“The explanation is lying at your feet,
Lora,” she cried. “Probably; Schon-
berg hadn’t an idea that you would
find it so hard to comprehend; other
wise he would no doubt have written
on the outside of the packet, ‘A billet-
doux within.’ ”
Lora stooped quickly and picked up
the note; she read it, blushing deeply:
“I did not meet yout to-day, Lora, and
I wanted to see you. I must talk with
you about speaking to your father, for
I cannot bear this sort of thing any
longer. Make up your mind, and come
to-night, after dinner, to my mother.
I have told her everything. I must say
good-bye to you for eight long days.
I have just found a letter which calls
me to Maniz. If you love me, Lora,
grant my request.”
She remained standing, with drooping
head, and a thoughtful expression on
her lovely face. Could she manage !t
this evening? But there was no ques
tion about it—she must speak to him
before he went away. She wanted to
fee! herself protected from Herr Bech
er’s persistent attentions; at the worst
she would go secretly.
A heavy sobbing aroused her.
“Why, Katie, why are you crying?"
she asked.
“Oh, you!” gasped "the young girl,
with eyes sparkling with anger; “you
—go; you are horrid; you have a clan
destine love-affair; you arc deceiving
father and mother. You have thrown
yourself away-----”
Lora calmly poured the broth into
her father’s large cup, and when she
was ready to leave the kitchen, she said
gently:
“Come, Katie; father is waiting for
his supper. I will answer you after
ward.” She went upstairs with the
steaming broth, and entered the old
gentleman’s room.
He was sitting in his arm-chair by
the stove, smoking, as usual.
“I should think you had been grind
ing the meal,” was his greeting to nis
daughter. “Punctuality has gone out
of fashion. Where is your mother?”
“She is downstairs in the parlor,
with Aunt Melitta; Frau Becher has
only just gone."
“What do those old women want
anyway? I could hear that old Becher
shrieking all the way up here.”
“She wanted to inquire how I was
after the ball," replied Lora, shrugging
her shoudders.
The u.aisiTf './Im had been drinking his
9
broth, wiped off his moustache
laughed.
“An old cat, eh, Lora?”
£
4*
$
, ■ 4
-4»■£
¥
and
comb?'
Yes, papa.
“And that pack have millions, and
they don’t even know how to spend it
decently. And we must go hungry.
There must be something wrong with
the regulations up above, or else that
fellow Adalbert would be making shoes
fC'- the regiment, eh, Lora? Or do you
like him?”
She stroked his unshaven cheek ten
derly.
“Dear papa,” she said.
“Lora,” called Frau von Tollen.
The daughter hurried to the door.
“Yes, mamma.”
‘Aunt Melitta will stay to tea,” was
the answer; “boil a few eggs.”
She ran down the stairs in dismay.
That was stupid of Aunt Melitta.
“But soft, child, very soft,” called out
the old Fraulein, after her.
When a few minutes later, Lora car
ried the tea into the little dining-room,
she found her mother, aunt, and sister
already sitting there. Rudi’s place,
next Io her own, was vacant. The
major always took his supper in his
own room. "Fraulein Melilla was exces-
snely talkative, and she appealed con
tinually to Lora..
“I was just saying to your mother,
Lora, that one ought never to judge
tco quickly. This Frau Becher is real
ly a charming woman; a perfect lady,
Lcrchen.”
“She lakes almost as much upon her
self as if she were one,” remarked
Katie.
“Katie, I must beg that you will not
be so ready to give your very unripe
opinions,” said Aunt Melitta reproving
ly and her curls shook all over her.
head; “besides, I was not speaking to
you. I spoke to Lora.”
“Lora has no time to-day to think
about Frau Becher,” replied Katie,
sticking an egg with her knife, “have
you Lora?”
“We have some secrets to talk over,
by-and-by—about papa’s birthday.”
“After tea, I hope,” said her mother.
“Yes, mamma.”
' Lora cast a grateful glance at her
sister, but Katie looked through her as
though she did not exist.
“Really, I have seldom -seen anything
so tasteful as the Becher’s furniture,
began Aunt- Melitta, again. “Omy
fancy, dear Marie,” she continued, turn
ing to her sister-in-law, “the salon is
fitted up with violet velvet, and in the
boudoir, adjoining, they have maize
colored satin, embroidered with flow
ers—a charming effect. I shall decorate
my next doll’s house like it; and more
over, Frau Becher declarss that the
upper rooms, which her son partly oc
cupies now, and which he will fit up
entirely when he gets married, are
I much handsomer. The bride whom
Adalbert may choose will not find it
necessary to bring more than her per
sonal wardrobe with her, for everything
else is already there.”
“Except decent ideas,” murmured
Katie, fortunately so low that her aunt
could not understand her, and had to
ask what the young lady said.
“Oh, nothing,” replied the latter; “I
was only talking to myself; it is. a ha
bit I have.”
“Yes; and Adalbert Becher told me
yesterday, that he would not go any
where but to Italy on his wedding-jour
ney. He has often been in ‘the land
where the golden orange glows;’ ‘Thi
ther, oh, thither—’ Lora, how does it
go? ‘I would go, 0 my beloved, with
thee!' My poor dear Plover used to
sing it so beautifully.”
Lora suddenly got up.
“Will you excuse me, mamma?”
“Yes, but make haste; for papa wants
to play a rubber of whist. As auntie
is here, we can easily manage it if you
play too.”
“Mamma,” stammered Lora. v
“Go now, quickly, child. You Know
your father is so impatient.”
Imra, followed by her sister, ran
through the dark hall into the little
salon, which was opposite the dining
room. It was a very plain, room, dimly
lighted by the kerosene lamp, which—
still unheard of extravagance!—was
burning on the table before which the
ladies had been sitting with Frau
Becher.
It was all very poor and plain, and
ye! there was an air about it that al
ways gave a visitor a sense of com
fort. The walnut furniture, with its
polish worn off, an old-fashioned mir
ror, in a horribly ugly gold frame, over
the console, between the muslin cur
tains, with a clock in front of it which
had long since ceased to go; a large
flowered carpet, before the sofa; on
the right and left an arm-chair, an old
embroidered fire-screen, a. littlp tetra/
gere, on which stood an alabaster vase,
which here and there showed marks of
repair, and a writing-table, a very use
less piece of furniture, covered with
little knick-knacks from better days,
when the mistress of the house was
young and beautiful.
Here Lora sank into a chair. “Katie,”
she cried, “you must help me!”
“No!” replied the perverse girl.
“But you don’t know----■”
“And I don’t want to know."
“Katie," Lora went up to her with,
clasped hands, “we have always been
fond of each other—I love him so much,
Katie—do help me!”
The younger girl’s face grew pale as
death.
“You cannot have such a foolish pre
judice, Katie, as that we are not suited
to one another because I happen to be
called Lora von Tollen, an?! he Ernest
Schonberg. Katie, he is such a dear,
splendid fellow, and you like him,
too-----”
“No!” gasped Katie.
“I must speak to him this evening,"
said Lora, taking another tone. “If you
will not help me, then I must manage
for myself. I only ask you to say no
thing;.”
“That Is of course,” replied her sis
ter, with a curling lip.
“Lora, Lora!” sounded a voice out
side, “your papa is waiting.”
“Katie,” implored the young girl, “I
cannot get out—I beg of you—no one
will miss you; run over to Frau Pastor
S.chqn^ergas,. and say I cannot come,
much as I -Would like to——”
“In the name-of.all the devils!” thun
dered tHe-’^iajbr, hat the head of the
‘what' are you about? Will you
Lora flew to the door. “I am coming,
papa, this moment! Katie, for Hea
ven’s sake go! Say I will be at the
station to-morrow morning, at half
past seven. It is no matter if some one
does sec us. I beg of you to go, Katie,
if you care for me at all, and I will
thank you all my life. Tell him not to
fret-----”
Her eyes were full of tears.
“Oh, yes,” murmured Katie, and Lora
flew upstairs.
Katie did really put a shawl round
her and steal out of the house. She
knew she would not be missed; every
one would think she was writing her
exercise.
It was a dark, stormy night; the
lanterns, which were swung across the
street, swayed- in the wind. The young
gi.r' walked very fast; though she did
not realize it herself, she almost ran.
Her head seemed burning, and the
whole world seemed to be turning round
with her, she felt so oppressed and so
melancholy; and yet she was angry.
She thought what a comfort it would
be if she could seize Lora by the arm,
and shake her, and say to her very
face: “You serpent—you hypocrite!”
As she drew near to the Schonbrg's
garden-gale, she began to walk more
slowly; she felt about in the dark for
the latch, for there was no lamp here,
and she looked for the small ray of
light over the blinds of the Frau Pas
torin. It was all dark in his room up
stairs. All at once she felt her hand
seized, and the next moment an arm
was thrown around her, and a kiss was
pressed on her lips.
“Lora, Lora, thank God you have
cornel” murmured a passionate voice.
She was quite overwhelmed by this,
and for the moment she could not utter
a word. Not until he had kissed her
forehead and her hand, and repeated,
“Lora, my Lora!” did she find strength
to free herself from his arms, and
thust him away.
“It is I,” she said hoarsely, “Katie-
Lora could not come.”
For a moment he remained silent..
Then “Katie?” sounded in her ear in a
tone of vexation and disappointment.
“I could not help it,” she murmured,
beginning to sob.
“No, no; only you must excuse me,
Fraulein Katie. I hope Lora confided
m you. But won’t you come in?” His
voice now- sounded as cool and com
posed as if he were at his desk.
At this moment the house-door open
ed; light streamed out into the dark
ness, and the small figure of the Frau
Pastorin appeared like a silhouette in
the frame of the doorway.
“Is my little daughter there?” £he
asked in a low and pleasant tone.
“No, mother; it is Fraulein Katie."
“Will you not come in?” the old lady
asked, repeating her son’s invitation.
“No, I cannot; I will not,” murmured
the girl, retreating. “I only wanted to
say that Lora could not come; she had
to play whist with papa and Aunt
Melitta; but she will come to the sta
tion if she can, or will write.”
“Was it really so absolutely impos
sible?” he inquired bitterly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Lora said so—but Lora is a coward,”
she muttered passionately; “if I—it it
bad been me—good-night!”
She disappeared suddenly in the
darkness. When he hurried after her
to the gate, he could perceive no trace
of her in the lonely, dimly-lighted
street.
“Let the little will-o’-the-wisp go;
what can happen to her in Westen-
berg?” he murmured, and went back in
a rather angry moo-d. Lora ought to
have come, he thought; she ought to
have found ways and means. Why
should she be so particular when it re
garded the happiness of two people?
Was it not a rather petty trait? He
stcod before his mother with a pale
face.
“Well, well," said the old lady com
fortingly, putting the cake-plate and
the teacups carefully away, which had
been taken out for the refreshment of
the expected guest. “These are a lov
er’s troubles, my boy. Don’t fret; it
will all come right.”
Lora sat at the whist-table, with the
cards in her hand, and listened to every
footstep that went- by in the street.
‘Confound it, look what you .are
about!” shouted the major, who was
her partner. “I played clubs. The
way you play is enough to drive one
mad!” j
She looked at him absently.
“There comes Katie upstairs,” said
Fraulein Melitta, as she trumped the
trick. “Thank you, Lora; we are sure
Io win now.”
“The devil may play with you!” thun
dered the old man, flinging his cards < n
the table. “I would rather have a dum
my.”
Lora got up hastily and went to the
door.
“Come here!” shouted the major; “sit
down and pay attention. How else will
you ever learn ”
She returned obediently and sat down
at the table again, like a marble sta
tue. Now and then the major asked
her a question: “Well, child, how would
you manage that? How would you
play?”
She looked at him with an axious
giance as her thoughts came back from
her lover.
“Papa, I have a bad headache," she
Baid in excuse, as the cuckoo-clocH
struck ten, and the cards were shuf
fled again.
“Go to bed, then, for all I care,”
grumbled the major, as he arranged
his cards.
Shle said “Good-night,v and went
quickly to her sister’s room. Katie was
sitting on her bed; her cheeks burned
like fire, and her eyes looked fixedly
st Lora.
“Katie,” cried Lora breathlessly, tak
ing her sister’s cold hand in hers, “did
you see him? What did he say? Was
he angry?”
Katie shook her head.
“I told him what you said, and what
else had I to do?” she replied, turning
away.
“No, nothing else. I thank you, Ka
tie,” was the disappointed reply. “But
arc you ill?” she asked, as a Slight
shiver passed over the frame of the
young girl.
“No, let me alone-”
“Don’t be so horrid, Katie. When a
girl loves a man, she doesn’t think
about his family tree.”
Katie laughed shortly, but. she did
not reply. Lora made an attempt to
stroke her hair, but her sister thrust
her away. “Let me alone!” she repeat
ed.
“Good-night, Katie,” said Lora, and
went away. She had hardly shut the
door behind her when the bolt was
shot and she thoubht she heard pas
sionate sobs. “Katie!” she called once,
but all was still.
She went into her room and began to
write a letter to Ernest Schonberg:
“Yes, Ernest, it is better that you
should ask my father’s consent as soon
as possible. I am so anxious -and
afraid. As soon as you come hack from
M., come to papa, and I will prepare
him. I wish you a pleasant journey,
but don’t forget.
“Your Lora.”
“In case of an emergency.” she mur
mured, “if I cannot go to the station,
Katie must take it. She will have had
her cry out by that time, and will get
reconciled to it, the foolish, proud
child!”
She stayed awake for a long time
yet and read, in Scheffel’s “Trompeter
von Sakkainen." The lamp lighted up
her pure, beautiful face, which looked
so happy at this moment, when she was
dreaming over a charming poem. Then
she started up suddenly. The outer
door shut.
“Rudi!” she cried, and, like a heavy
weight, the anxious reality settled
down on her spirit.
(To be Contiucd.)
-------------------
WHAT SMALL MISHAPS WILL DO.
Single Ton of Coal Put Into Wrong
Bunker Sunk a Ship.
The foundering of that “crackest” < f
al! the crack German liners, the Kaiser
Wilhelm II., in Bremen Harbor the
olher day, serves to show how easily
vulnerable -are these modern marine
monsters, given precisely the right- con
ditions.
The Kaiser Wilhelm -could not have
been sunk in open ocean by any storm
no matter how fierce, -and she was fire
proof and practically unsinkable by
collision. Yet, so slender is her beam,
in the interests of the speed she is built
for that a comparatively small weight
of coal placed a little too much to one
side caused her to capsize.
A very similar accident, it will be le-
membered, happened to the Orient liner
Orotava at Tilbury, England, some few
years back. And in 1899, again, the
fine new steamship Utica was sunk in
New York Harbor owing to a single
ton. of co<al being shot by mistake into
-the wrong bunker.
Through a small valve being accident
ally left open the Iron Duke was" once
filled with water, $650,000 worth of
damage being done. A steel spar fal
ling from aloft pierced through and
through the huge Esperanza as she was
lying empty in Canton Harbor, and
sent her to the bottom. The breaking
of one link in a chain attached to ner
sleering-gear sent the Utopia drifting
helplessly on top of the Anson's ram
in Gibraltar Harbor during the night
of March 17th, 1891, with the result
that she went to the bottom, and nearly
six hundred of her passengers and crew
were drowned.
Then, of course, there is the typical
case of the Royal George, the finest
man-of-war in the British Navy of that
lime, which was lost in Portsmouth
Harbor on August 29th, 1872. While
heeled over to repair a pipe, a sudden
gust of wind washed the sea into her
ports, and down she went, with the
resultant, loss of come nine hundred
valuable lives.
WORK HARD AND DON’T WORRY.
Rules for Living to be 100 Given by Mrs.
Brown, Who is 105.
Mrs. Johanna Harper Brown, of Wor
cester, Mass., who celebrated her 105th
birthday the other day, delivered a
short lecture on the value of hard work
for prolonging one’s days. The boys
and girls have too easy a time, Mrs.
Brown thinks, and depend too much
upon their elders to clothe and feed
them.
Plenty of hard work is good medicine,
according to Mrs. Brown, and she adds
that’if she had not worked hard all her
life she would have been dead long
ago. She thinks it better for a woman
to work hard than to waste her energy
carrying a poodle dog.
“A great fault of most women to-day
Is that they worry too much,” said Mrs.
Brown. “Worrying isn’t going to help
them at all and I always made a prac
tice not to worry and fret.
“Just take things as they come, and
take it easy. When women do that they
will live to be as old as I am.”
Mrs. Brown is also certain that the
same rule applied to man will lengthen
his days.
Mrs. Brown was born in Montreal and
went to Massachusetts eighty-four years
ago, making the trip overland by wagon
and on horseback. She was of a family
of six children and the mother of eight.
Her hearing is perfect, she reads news
papers without glasses and daily climbs
a flight of stairs unaided to visit neigh
bors in the house on Lake street, where
she lives with.her daughter.
She believes in the old oreder of meals
breakfast at 7, lunch at noon and sup
per at 6.
At the birthday celebration this week
there were ninety descendants of Mrs.
Brown present and five generations.
-----*----“When she gave you the piece of cake,
did you say ‘Thank you’?” “Yes, ma;
but it didn’t do no good." “Didn’t do
any good?” “No; she didn’t give me
another piece!”
Howell—-“A good deal depends on the
formation of early habits." Dowell—
“I know it. When I was a baby my
mother paid a woman to wheel me
about, and I have been pushed, for mon
ey ever since."
FAMOUS DEATH VALLEY
IT HAS BEEN THE SCENE OF MANY
TRAGEDIES.
Gradually Losing Its Terrors—Railroads
Entering—Stories of Robbery
and Bloodshed.
The famous Death Valley of Colorado
is losing its terrors. Perhaps no other
area of equal size in the world has been
the scene of so many tragedies and
dastardly crimes. Now the hand of
civilization is reclaiming this devil’s
garden of the West. It will be Death
Valley in name only, or as a memory,
in but a few more years.
Formerly only desperate characters
lived on the desert, but within the last
few years they have been practically
thinned out, and the advent of rail
roads and the consequent rush of min
ers will complete the renovation.
OLD DAYS OF CRIME.
The desert characters are not so
dangerous as they were even a few
years ago. There are several settle
ments of “Arabs” scattered throughout
the desert, one of these being not far
from the borax mines-, where they are
within easy reach of passing teams.
There was another band that hibernat
ed near the Black Crater, in San Ber
nardino County, several miles east of
Johannesburg. Like the Orientals from
whom they were named they left with
out being allowed the formality of fold
ing their blankets.
At Leake’s Springs about forty miles
from Johannesburg, was a “Robbers’
Roost,” the most noted and dangerous
spot on the desert. It was settled in
the early days by criminals, principally
from Los Angeles. Here they held up
the first waggon train from Salt Lake
bound to Southern California, killing
several, burning the waggons after
plundering them and taking the stock.
These thieves, like pirates wailing for
a treasure ship, waylaid and robbed
the borax waggons after pay days, and
killed the teamsters if they resisted.
Mining prospectors who passed that way
were never seen again. In addition to
the ranch house of the robbers there
was a saloon.
BEGINNING OF GRAVEYARD.
Now there is only a row of stones
marking the lines of the walls. Near
ly on a sloping mesa was an old In
dian camping ground, where agate,
jasper and obsidian chippings. are found.
From a peak above, a figure resembling
an elephant’s head, carved by the hand
of nature, seemed to be looking down
upon the desolate and once bloody
scene. There was a pitched battle be
tween the outlaws and the Indians, but
the red men were vanquished by the
longer range arms of the paleface.
In the Valley of Death at Saratoga
Sorings, on the banks of the shallow
Amagorsa River, are the rums of two
stone houses, one of which was a store
and the olher a saloon. This spot was
settled in the early days—more than
half a century ago—and the place did
a lively business, as the road was spot
ted with teams. Nearby is a grave
yard. The place bore a bad name,
and more than one teamster was killed
end robbed at this oasis. Local tradi
tion records a noted gun fight fe&tween
a teamster and his “swamper,” in
which -both were killed, and this was
the beginning of the graveyard. A
“swamper” is a helper who walks along
and helps the 'teamster manage the
Tne, pulls on the waggon brakes and
also assists the teamster in swearing.-----*---—
TRAVELLING TELEPHONES.
The Civil and Military Gazette re
ports that Lord Kitchener has -accept
ed for use in India a form of movable
telephone, which can be employed with
great facility in the field. The cable
weighs only seven pounds per mile, but
is so well insulated that it can be
stretched across a stream of water
without loss of current. It withstands
a strain of 120 pounds. An apparatus
.for placing and removing the cable,
working automatically, and capable of
being attached to a saddle, is employ
ed. Recently in the Punjab a horse
man, proceeding at a gallop, placed the
cable over a distance of two miles in
seven minutes. To remove it 18 min
utes were required.
-----------O-----------
FORTUNES TOLD FROM TEA-LEAVES
After a tea-party or a picnic it adds
to the general entertainment if the hos
tess can read her guests’ fortunes in
their teacups. An old lady who has
built up quite a reputation in this way
has revealed to us how she does it.
“Is the first place,” she says, “you must
turn the cup upside down above the
saucer, and slowly revolve it three times.
Then start your inspection. If there
are any drops of tea adhering to the
cup, it is a sign of tears to come. A
long line of leaves means a journey,
and if the line is broken, a sea voyage.
A little square patch means a letter.
A circle means a proposal of marriage,
and a short line means a visitor. Then
there will be patches resembling ani
mals and objects, such as birds, etc.
Having observed all these indications,
you start to weave your story, using
your Imagination freely, but keeping
everything within the bounds of pos
sibility, from your knowledge of your
guest’s character and circumstances.*’
---------->?<---------
“What do you call your little dog?”
“i used to call him William until be
'had fits, and now I call him Fitzwil-
liani!” _____________
BUY WATER BY POUA'D
SOME REMARKABLE NATUKE FAtTIfj
SIMPLY TOLD.
Everything You Eat Contains More or
Less Water, and You Have to
Pay for It.
How much a pound do you pay for
water? Not what you draw from the
well, dear madam, but the water you
buy at the market. You don’t buy v^a-
trr at market, you say. Indeed, you are
mistaken. You purchase it there every;
week in considerable quantities, and the
price you pay tor it is well-nigh stag
gering.
For instance, you go to market and!
buy a porterhouse cut that weighs two;
pounds. That is to say, when the but
cher puts it on his scales, it looks as'
though you were getting two pounds oL
sleak. It never occurs to you to reflect
that the meat and bone contain scat
tered through their tissues, no less than;
two tumblerfuls of plain, ordinary'
water.
HALF TIIE STEAK IS WATER.
In other words, slightly more than
half of the steak is water, which, at 25
cents a pound, is a good deal to pay for
such a commodity. But, whatever you
may choose to purchase, you are “up
against” the same fluid proposition.
You buy a six-pound leg of mutton, and
the market man charges incidentally at
the regular rate for three pints of water
which it contains. If you pick out a
chicken for roasting that weighs two
pounds and a half, it holds one pint ol
water. A ten-pound turkey contains two
quarts.
EVEN IN FISH.
It is much the same way with fish.
A six-pound shad contains just, about a.
quart of water; but the roe, taken by it-l
self, is less than one-third solid matter.;
A lobster is nearly one-third water. The,
average fish that lies, dresed, on the
stall in the market is about six-tenths
water; and even a salt cod, which looks
as if it were one ol the dry-est things in
the world, holds a pint of water ton
every two pounds of meat.
Chestnuts are nearly one-third water,
but black walnuts, English walnuts, and.'
butternuts contain only one per cent., er,
less, of water, while pecans, hickory;
nuts, Brazil nuts, and almonds run from
1>2 to 3 per cent. Peanuts are 7 per)
cent, water.
WATER IN EGGS.
Let us supose that you invest your
good money in eggs. It is not likely to.
make you better satisfied if you knew;
that the dozen “strictly fresh” ones, fori which you pay thirty cents, contain'
nearly a pint of plain water. But milk
i« worse, being eighty-seven per cent,
water; while even the butter, which is
comparatively water-free, holds eleven'
pei cent, of the fluid. Cream cheese is
three-fourths water.
A pound l-oaf of good wheat bread,
delivered by the baker at your door,1
contains about two-thirds of a tumbler
ful of water.
But, when it comes to fresh vegetables,-
the trouble becomes greatly aggravated,
inasmuch as only a small percentage of
them is solid substance. Tomatoes, for
instance, are ninety-four per cent, wa
ter, spinach, ninety-two per cent.; let
tuce, eighty-one per cent.; stilng beans,
eighty-three per cent.; cucumbers,
eighty-one per cent.; shelled peas,
seventy-six per cent.; cabbage, seventy
seven per cent.; sweet corn off the cob,
seventy-six per cent., and beets, seventy,
per cent.
TWO-T1IIRDS WATER.
Potatoes and turnips are not so bad,/
they are only about two-thirds water.j
When fruits are considered, it apears;
that apples and oranges have the sama
percentage of water as potatoes, while
pears run up to seventy-six per cent.,
and strawberries to eighty-five per cent.
It seems surprising that an apple and
an orange of equal size should hold just
thj same quantity of water, but it should
be remembered that Mie skins ara counted in, and there is a lot of fibre in!
an orange.
Probably, if you were asked to men-;
tion the most watery of fruits, you)
would say, the watermelon. But tha
fact is that, owing to the great thickness'
of the rind, and to the quantity of fibre,
composing the pulp, the watermelon,
taken as a whole, is relatively dry, being
only a little more than one-third water.
---- -—---------
DUSK, AND InE DAY IS DONE.
Dusk, and the day is done,
Homeward I turn ;
Bright as the setting sun
Its fires do burn.
Dusk and the shadows fold
On the hill’s breast;
Dark ’gainst the fleeting gold,
In the far west.
Dusk, and the waking stars
Glimmer on high
Like candles newly lit
In the gray sky.
Dusk, and I see your face,
Soft lips apart;
Waiting to find your place,
Near to my heart.
Before marriage a man promises to
refuse his wife nothing, and after mar
riage that’s about all she gels.
That hacking cough continues (
Because your system is exhausted and (
your powers of resistance weakened. (
Take Scott's Emulsion, 1
It builds up and strengthens your entire system?11 Dulius up ana streng uicus yuui enure ayavc***. i
It contains Cod Liver Oil and Hypophosphites so
epared that it is easy to take and easy to digest.
A ALL DRUGGISTS: 50c. AND $1.00 A
».