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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1892-9-15, Page 6IIDIS URLAVEN. aon* nassenre CHAPTER V. seentemE larenta had moved rapidly that afternoon Liulaven. Within the viceange all was codusiou and dittress, Wben Clara, re- covered suakientlY to. remenaber what had happened—the reading a the paper—the finaiug of the watch, which, she felt eon- vinocd, must have been her father's—the eerronstricken face of Uncle Gilee as the eaport wee reat out—all came back to her enmity, and the first use which she made • a her returniug consciousness was to ask her husband to go and find, that old man at once. She felt that she had read her fat° in his face. Captain Norham had left the house on this errand, when his attention was arrest- ed by a rider coming rapidly down the drive from Brathrig Hall. it was Mr. Brookes. He had been summoned to the death -bed of Dame Norhaan that morning, and now he had ridden down to the vicar- age to say that all was over. *'What is to be done?" asked the Cap- tain. "Nothing can be done, so far as I can see," replied the lawyer, "Linley will have taken possession by :Monday, and the estates will go to a limn who has scarcely any reasonable elaiin to them, except that he wee remotely connected with the Nor - hams by the female line, and that the old lady has umae a will in bis favour." "But might not, the will be disputed ?— . niornent to watch, when the lower windows Look here." Aud he took from his pooket tare clear of flame, and then the child is too much for her already merstrainea pow- combination, The members were enrolled ers, and she sank baela in her husbaud'a under feigued names: and one of these anus, like One dead. members was Arthur Naseby. On one cm- Meatiathile, the crowd looked on with caeicnu,. two or three years later, a riot broke breathless enxiety. They had seen the man out in the streets, and, Giles 'eves seized enter the red. doorway, to struggle upwards among others by the police; whereupon through the fiery furnace should they Naseby bed headed. a resouepartya and car ever see him return ? The stairs must, be ried the prisoners off while an their way to burning," said one. It is the foolhardia the police office. ness of a madman," saki another. And as It was a time when Government was yet there had been no sign from within the very severe upon such offences; and GUS building, From moment to moment rhe and Arthur Naseby fled. Grateful for the Raines belched forth in their red fury, and liberty which had thusbeeu secured to him, at other times the whole building seemed to the former advised Naseby to go to Stook - be covered with a cloud of smoke and fire. heretical, in York•shire, where he would find A few moments more elapsed, and there refuge with Giles's aunt, Mrs. Hales. He was heard the crashing of glass in the ueper himself would. take passage in a vessel as storey, and through a gap in the curling a. marine engineer, and leave the country smoke the white hair of the brave ald men for some years. Ile gave Naseby a letter was seen at the open window. A. half -sup. to his Aunt, also a message to his cousin pressed cheer burst from the crowd; but Esther, his aunt's only child. Esther he the event was too greatly fraught with had loved from his boyhood, though he had peril and anxiety for any longindulgence in never yet spoken of it to her, for she was exultation. well educated, and he but indifferently so; They heard his voice up there at the win- yet lie imagined, there was a sort of under - dew.; 'The caild is here,' he eried; "but standing between them, and fondly hoped the stair is burning, and I cannot return that, by industry and success, he might that way. Send me up a rope.—There 1" some time be in a position to ask Esther And he aunga ball of cord, from the window Hales to be his wife. The winning of her out amongst the crowd, retaining the loose love bad. been the ambition of his life. end, of the ball in his hand, "Fasten a rope Be remained abroad for nearly two years, to it," he shouted again; "and for the bairn s returning to langland towards the end of sake be quick." 1853, when he wrote to Arthur Naseby, Almost in shorter time than we can tell saying that he was most anxious to visit his 't, a rope was made fast to the cord," and aunt mid couslia, and askingif it was safe Giles was drawing it up towards hire. The for him yet to do so. Re was afraid the people awaited with breathless suspense pollee had not forgotten, him. In reply lie till he reappeared at the window. At last receivea a letter stating that inquiries had —he is there! The child is in his arms, quite recently been made in the town re- wrapped up iu some large covering for aerating him, and not in the meantime to itsbetter protection. He leans forward for a genie nearer Stookborough than the village of Bromley, a few race to the south. Here he received a second letter from Arthur Neseby, stating that the writer, after an absence of two days, was returning home to Stockborough, and would meet with him en the following evening, after dark, at a place indicated, between Stoekborough and the White Horse Inn. "He mine," said the old man, addressieg Clava; "and how can I tell thee tyliat, took place between us? All theft, years, and all the way home, I had been thinking of Esther Hales; 1 had done well, and my heart was set upon winning her—inerean tongue can tell, And. when I found as how ne had married her—the man wbo had carried my last messacm to her—I think I mun ha' gone the paper whieh Lawrence Dale bad been reivaing from, He opened it, pointed to the paragraph, " Remarkable Discover)," and passed it to the lawyer. Mr. Brookes read the paragreph twice ovet carefully, and not without some ex- pressions of astonishment. " Extraordinary —startling—watch belonged to one Arthur Naseby—real name Arthur Norham—the tree clue we have got to all this mystery,— But, George," he said, turning to the Captain, "this may all come to nothing. We cannot tell whether Arthur Newham is dead or alive—or, if dead, when he died. Then where are wet" Captain Norham narrated to him what he eid his wife had seen that afternoon as the aper was being read—the agitation of the old. man who was a stranger In the place— also nhat he himself had seen in the church, as well as the fact that this man, whea in his delirium, had called Clara by her ther's name. "There is something strange, certainly in all this.—Go, George, and find this man, and bring him to the vicarage. Wo must at least speak with him on the matter," Uncle Giles was not to be found. His cottagewas empty. No one had seen him aince afternoon. But, Captain," said Mrs. Dale, "he often walks of an evening round. the head of the lake to Langley Bridge, and he may ha' gane there now. The Captain. walked off in the direction seen to be descending through the air. Quickly, but yet cautiously, does the old man pay out the rope upon which depends the life of this little burden so precious to his heart. A score of hands are held up to receive it; and as Lucy is safely rescued and placed in her mother's arms, tears might have been seen on many a sunburned face. Before this had been more than done, it was observed that the man who bad saved. tbe child, high up in that place of dauger and death, was attaching the rope to some- thing within tbe building, and was himself preparing to descend. The first part of the descent on the rope Was made, hand over hand, quickly and, skilfully, "es if he had stark mad. I mun ha' threatened lum ; for, been a sailor all his life." So said an on- he throwed his arms around. me to keep um looker. But juse when he bad rea,ehea the from striking him; but ia my madness I windows of the second floor, the fella merle shook hint off, dashing him to the ground. portion of the interior sent a fierce volume We were on the road. by the river -bank ; of flame with a euffooating rush from the and when be staggered from me, and fa, shattered windows, half enveloping the dee he rolled down the bank into the river. The acencling man. He Was seen to maltean un night was dark, and I could not see him, steady clutch at the rope, but missed. it; and the river was in high flood, I only and, to the horror of the spectators, in an- heard the splash in the water, and his wild other second be had fallen heavily, with a cry.—This brought me automat to mysell, dull thud, to the ground. and I saw the terrible thing I had acme. " He saved. others"—came from amidst had been the death of the man who had been the crowd.in deep, tremulous tones. It was my friend. till this wild love o' mine for the Vicar who had spoken, standing there Esther Hales cam* between us. with white uncovered head. I ran wildly along the watern edge; but . . nowt o' my old mate could I see. I called There was mounting and. riding in Linke- for help, but no one came. I said, "I am a ven tbatnight. A de,ctor bad. to be brought murderer !" A greet fear came upon me, awl I turned, and. ran off through the dark- ness, 1 knowed not where. At last I saw lights. It was the White Horse, and I weat in. There were voices laud in the bar -room; but no mun Ind seen me, and I went into the Blue Room. In the lighb of the fire, what wee my horror to find a watch daugling at the end of it bit of it ohain that had fixed itself to a button of my coat? It was the watch o' the man whose death 'I had been: I could scarce handle it, for ib lookoa in my eyes as if red wi' blood, and 1 aSmost sickened at the sight of it. I tore it from its fastening, and looked about to see where I could hide it. There was a brok- t i th ti d I d more in the old church at home by his mother's knee, with his baud in hers, the sunshine and the pleasant music filling all the place? Again the penitential words are on his lips Forgive as oor sins "— And, agate a change has come, "gaick and. sudden -like," But not surely this time into Darkness. Rather, let us hope, into the Day that knows no evening, into the Light that has no eclipse. . . "UNCLE GILES." That was the name by which they had known mod loved him ; it is the name yon may still see carved upon the little headstone above his greve ; and that grave is in the place wbush of all pieces was most pleasant to him —within the sound of "them beautiful bells," the Bells ef Linla,- yen. [THE EIRD,1 "Dear Old Bess, The storekeeper of A little country town in Connectiout, writes it correspondent, drove a nondescript colored mare whose peculiarities of glut and figure were a, source of constant merriment to the village people. Old Bess" cared nothing for their talk, however, though her master often declared that "she knew what folks seta about her" well as he " But then, he used to add, she has too much horse settee to mind that sort of thing 1" Opposite the store, Across the road, was a steep ascent leading up into the farm- yard, where was it shod limier which 'Bess was in tbe halat of standing when not ac- tively employed. Up to this shelter she Was in tate haaxt of going alone when the waggon had been unloadea the store door, and Mr. P.--, her owner, had ac- customed her to come clown again at his call ; or rather, as he said, "She Welt up the notioe herself ; I didn't teach her to do it, " The whcle raiinceuvre was tomewhat complicated. She bed, to back the wagon out of the shed, turn it partly round, pick her way carefully down the rather steep de- cline, cross the road, and then come up and turn again to bring the wagon into praetor position before the door. It was a constant pleasure for us boys to witness the perfornts mice, and we often lingered for that purpose when we beard the well-known call, "Come, Old Bess, it's time to go to work 1" Oue day the call Was again and again re- peated and atilt she did not came. We could just see a part of the run of the hind wheels,. and at each call We saw them push out an ',richer two and then draw up again, as if Ola Bess la stertad and thee chang- ed her mind, At last, after loud and impatient calls, • Ale. P --.went, over to see what was the trouble. We tollowed, and there, atendiug directly in front of the wheel with her hand on the shaft, stood little May, Mr. P --'s three-year-old daughter. Poor Bess, divided between duty to her master and her eoneern for her mester's daugater, was irresolutely drawing the waggon formed and baek, as far as ehe could without lifting her feen evidently conscious that any further movement might involve danger to the little one. "Dear Old Bess !" said May, and "Dear • Old Bess !" cehoed Mr, P—, with tears in his voice, while Bess, with it whitely of relief, no sooner saw him take the cleld in his arms—she was looking back at the child when. we a:me un—thau she proceeded to back out and go clown to the attire, just as if nothing had happened. There the small boys patted ber fondly, while t he larger ones, some of them with strange lunges in their throats after it timid glance at the tears still to be*, seen in the fether's eyes, silently turned away to tell at home the stery of Ohl Besan "knowing- ness."—tasouth's Companion. indicated ; but he saveno Dee. He reached frone &steam, as also a Justice of the the bridge, and stood for a little upon it, l!eace; for Mr. Brookes, with lawyer -like meditating on the distracting events of the instinct, having been informed of all that day. The sun hail now sen and twilight was known and suspected about the old was rapidly deepening. The silence was for teen now lying ouco more unconscious on it time unbroken save for the rushing sound , his bed, thought it well to be prepared for of the brook as itswept beneath the bridge ; any emergency that might arise. If this then there came the swede of hurrying luau, as wouldappear front what had been footsteps. In a few minutes a. man appear. seen by Clara and her husband that day, ed, shouting something wbich in the dis- tance the Captain was unable to catch. The man, however, instea,d of eoming en straight towards him, turned up by the road that led to the claurch - and shortly thereafter the bells rang out'from the tower with un- wonted violence and clamour. It at once occurred to Captain Norham that fire had broken out somewhere. Little did be know how terrible to his own heart end Clara's the result of that fire might be. When he entered the village all was tur- moil, commotion, and alarm. The Old Grange was on fire. A woman was flying towards Lawrence Dale's cottage. It was Lucy Norham's nurse. "Oh, Lawrence," she cried. "heve you seen our Lucy ? I have been out at tea, at Mffiridge Farm, and when I came home she was not to be found." "I ho.' not seen her, lass," replied Law- rence, as he walked off towards the tire; "but thou may keep thy mind easy. She be safe enough somewhere with old Giles." Captain Norharn also hurried on towards the burnin,g edifice, in front of which every living creature in the village had now con- gregated, the women uttering loud excla- mations of distress and alarm, and the men hurrying hither and thither, vainly sugs gesting expedients for checking the fire. When they saw Captain Norha.m approach, ley waited for his directing hand. We cannot save the old building," he said, a,fter a pick survey of the situation; "but its connection with the mill must be out off." And under his brders, some .vooden and other temporary structures that had been erected between the Grange ind the mill were forthvrith torn down and removed with willing hands. Upon the Old Grange itself the fire had already got a firm hold; the ancient time -dried wood- work of its floors, with the various com- bustible materials stored in it, fed the fire with fierce rapidity, and in an almost in- credibly short apace of time the flames had burst forth from the „lower range of win ilows, threatening the whole building with 'immediate destruction. In this crisis Captain Norham felt a hand on his arm. It was Clara, with anxious eyes, asking if no one had seen Luoy. "Miss Lucy ?" said a, bystander. "She will be wi' Uncle Giles. I saw her a -seek- ing for him P the afternoon." • No, ma'am," said a lad who had over- heard the conversation ; "Miss Lucy be nob with Uncle Giles, for I saw him a-goin' up the Fell more 'n an hour ago, and there was Bo one wit him." "Oh, my child," cried Clara, "where can she be ?" And she looked at the door of the burning builling, a,s if she even dar- ed go into the jaws of death itself in quest of her child. ,naptain Norham stepped forward in order tie draw his wife back trom the crowd. At that moment, it tall man, with uncovered head,. and white hair streaming in the wind, dashed in amongst them. It was Uncle Giles. Clara was at his side in an instant. "Oh, Giles," she cried, with wild. eagerness, " have you seen our Limy ?" "Yes," he replied, and there was a kind ef preternatural &nines,. in his demeanour, like that of it num who has stung himself up to the doing of it great action—" yes, ha seen her ; and wi' God's help I shall see her again." ' And before the onlookers had tithe to take in the full significance of his words, he had made it dash forward into the redillumined and disappeared within the doorway ev"aCe, or the, burning edifice. Clam, wieh lightning rapidity of percep- tion, gathered teem his words and his mad ection that her child was there --within those blazing walla, The Iceewledge wes knew "Arthur Naseby," it clue might be Sound to some of the hidden mystery ot the lost Arthur Norham's life, Two hours elapsed before the doctor and the magistrate arrived. The termer imme- diately proceeded to examine into the in- jured man's condition, and after it time pro- nounced his injuries fatal. He might pos. sibly live till morning, but could not live long, Clara stood by the bedside, watching with more than womanly solieltude. This man, whoever he waa, and whatever he may have been, bad saved the life of her child at the cost of his own; and as she thought of this, and all his tender ways aforetime towards the little Lucy, her heart went out to him in deep love and compassion. Slowly the hours moved on, one by one, and still the sufferer gave no sign of return- ing consciousness, The niglit passed, and the grey dawn began to show itself at the window; whereupon Lawrence Dale raised the blind, extinguished the lamp, and al- lowed the soft fresh ligbt to enter theroom. Gradually a flush of rosy brightness kindled in the eastern sky, and then the sun himself came up over the hills, shed- ding a golden halo through the curtained window on the pale face resting there before them—so calm, e yet so death- like in its rigid lines. Clara thought of that morning when she first looked upon it —not more death -like now than it was then; and a faint hope quivered in her breast for a, moment, as she thought it pos- sible that he might yet live. Before she was aware, she found that he had opened his eyes, and that they were resting full upon her. "Al, Esther," he said, in faint tones, "it be thee. I know ed thou would find me at last." Then the eyes again closed, and he lay thus for some time. When he once more looked up, he seemed to recognize his sur- rouudings and asked in an anxious voice "Where be little Lucy? Ha' thou found her?" "Yes," replied Clara. "Thanks to you, Giles, she is sleeping safe and sound in her little crib." "Thank Heaven, and name, miasma. It were me as left her in danger; and her death would ha' been another lsurden on my soul. God knows I ha' enough." A look from Mr. Brookes to Clara indicat- ed that the time had come when she might, now speak. She went forward to the bedside and said softly: "Giles, you have twice called me Esther, and I am wonde-ing why." A strange look passed over the man's face as if he were suddenly brought into touch with some great sorrow • but he re- mained. silent. He lay thus fen a little; then, as if commuuing with himself, be said: "It were true as the preacher mid : Be thon ever so fleet o' foot, the vengeance o' God is fleeter,' It ha' come up wi me now, and I cannot die with the burden on my His eyes moved slowly round the room until they rested on Lawrence Dale, and he said to him: "Thou remembers what was in the paper thou. reed from, about the White Horse, and the finding of the watch?" Lawrence nodded, but did not speak. " Then my time ha' come, and I must tell it all." • While this was proceeding, Mr. Brookes had got paper and ink in readiness; and, although the story was told by the dying elan in slow words, and after long intervals, it was to the following effect: In that year of Revolutioes, 1848, thia man, who now gave his name as Giles Bar- ton bad become a, member of a society which, although its aims were to laeriefit the social condition of working men, was in reality a secret and somewhat dangerous en par a e wa nsco ng, an roppo it down there, and rolled from the house, "Ah, that runnin' away was the one great mistake o' my Wel But 1 could not go back to Stookborough, and look on Esther Hales, and know that I had been the death o' the man who loved her—the man, too, as was my friend. I fled ; und summer and winter, from year to yeav, I ha' been trying to fly from trepan ever since, How I wished to die that night in the storm on the Fell 1 Yet here in Lin- laven. Ilia' been a'most happy—happier than I ha' been for all these thirty years; for I found folks as wore kind to me ; anal loved thee—and thy bairn. But the coat -of - arms on the tombstone in the church gave me a great scare; for they were the same as was on the last letter Arthur Naseby wrote me. And. when the story was read. from the paper ca the finding o' the watch, I said to mysen' ; "I will fly from my fate no Ringer," and was agoin' to tramp to Stookborough, to give mysen' up, when the bells called me back. 1 knoived where thy Tittle Lucy was, and 1 could not leave her to perish." Clara asked him if he had still Arthur Nasaby's letters. He put his hand into his breast and pull- ed out the little leather case. There first fell but the tress of fair hair he bad shorn from Lucy's head, which he beta out his hand, to receive back, and pressed to his lips; and then two letters. Both, the Vicar saw at once were in the hand- writing of Arthur Norham. The latest one, in which he had named the final and fatal place of meeting was curiously enough, written on the back of the last let- ter which the Vicar had written to Arthur before his disappearance, and which had. the Norham arms stamped upon it. Arthur's letter was dated, "Christmas Eve, 1853." "That is sufficient whisperedMr. Brookes to the Captain; it forms indisputable proof that Arthur Korb= was alive after the time of his father's will. We can beat off Linley now, and the estates are safe," But Clara heard nothing of this. She was intent upon every word that fell from the lips of the dying man. "Thou knows now," he said, "the story o' my miserable life; end I feel easier in my heart that I ha' told thee of it." Clara went close up to him, and took his band "Giles," she said, "Esther Hales was my mother." "Thy mother !—Ah 1" And he looked as it a greet light had burst in upon him. "Thou be Esther Hales child ?—and Lucy be thine ?—little Lucy?" ,• He lay silent for a while, and then said: " Yes, that be it. 1 knowed there was summat about thy little Lucy as went be- yond me. I see it all now She ha' Esther Hales's eyes—my Esther's.—And yet," he added, looking at Clara as if in fear, "I were the death o' thy father." "And you have atoned for it,' seid Clara, steeping and kissing the brow of the dying man, "for you have saved my child—and hers." Some hours after, as they stood by the bed -side, watehing his last Moments, there stole along upon the sunbright air the sound of Linlaven bells—not heath and dissonant, as on yestereven, but soft and melodious, like the winged messengers of peace and tor- givenees. Once more, as outhat other Sab- bath morn came the clear melody of the bells tilling all the room wibh their sweet jargoning ; and the eyes of the dying man opened, and his lips were seen to move, Ile was saying "Our Father!" Was.he once eememomarmaerolimitessamilltal RAILROAD NOTES. A tunnel from Scotland to Ireland is broached. Wherever the Pennsylvania R. R. builds a new bridge it will be observed that pro- visions are made for six tracks. The Peunsylvanie is showing its coufi- deuce eompound locomotivea by adding new ones of this kind, to its complement aa fast as they are turned out. The higheat viaduct in the world has tust been erected in Bolivia, over the River Lea, 9,833 feet above the sea level, and 4,008 feet above the river. According to it published guide to the railroads of the United States there are, or lately were, seventeen different gauges in the country, varying from two feet to live feet seven ladies in width, The longest railroad in the world is the Canadian Pacific, the main line of wbich is nearly 3,000 miles long. A lad at Buckingham Station, on the BelvidereDelaweee, railroad, greatly annoys the engineers by sitting on the track nail the engine is almost on top of him, The trouble might be abated by allowing the boy to sit still mita the train paws. . The Reason river tunnel is within 1,884 feet of being finished and yet, the work has been abandoned for it year for lack of funds to prosecute it, Steps will be token to re- orgemize the eompany . here. The Eugliah stookholdera will appoint it trustee. Needed no Lessons. stream instance of inherited testa and aptitude is cited by Mr. Morley Roberts in his "Land -Travel and Sea -Faring." He was in Australia, in "tbe land of sheep," ana had it collie pup, which he had named Boson. • He was only two months old when I took him with me to Strathavon, and until then he had never beheld it sheep at close quar- ters. For three or four days 1 kepb him tied up close to my tent, but on the fourth day he got away, and followed. me and my big dog Sancho down to the gate of the pad- dock, where I had just driven about one hundred and fifty rains. On reaching them I found I had left my fence tools behind, and rode back after them Sancho following. I did not notice that Boson remained. behind. When I mine back in a faveminutes, I saw, to my surprise that the rams had not spread out to feed, but were bunched in a close mass, and that the outer ones were following the motions of something which I could not see, but Which they evidently feared. I reined in my horse, waved back San- cho, and watched. Presently I saw woolly little Boson, who oertaiely was no bigger than the head of the least of the rains, pad- dling round and round the circle in a quiet, businsss-like manner. I remained motion- less, and watched to see whether he was doing it by accident ; but no, he made his rounds again and again'and as he did so, the huge -horned ra,ms followecl him with their eyes. It was with much difficulty that I enticed him home, and, from his air, I have no doubt he would have gone on circling his self-imposed charge until his legs failed iirm Hints for School Teachers. Air should be fresh, pure and warm. Every schoolhouse should have a rear yard. Adapt the height of seats to the size of children. Light should never enter schoolrooms from opposite directions. It should come from above the pupils' heads and from their left. Nothing in school is worth so much and costs so little as good ventilation. School walls and ceilings should be tinted in subdued but cheerful colors. In the case of furnace or steam heat it should enter above the children's heads. Rid your school of double deeks as soon as possible. They cense the spread of ver- min and disease. Blackboards should extend entirely around every schoolroom. For the teecher's sake the top should be 6i feet, from the floor, and for the children it should come within 2 feet of the floor. eamesane-essee,--. • Chicago is said to be overcrowded with unemployed bakers. Union Nos. 2 and 64 of that city have issued a circular re- questing bakers to stay away. These unions have also agreed not to wet the in- ternational label, but a local label of their The neighborhood of Demeter is known as the Sixth distriot of Pennsylvania, or the starvation district, where the cheapest cigars are made by the farmers and a their wives and children at wages on no other cigarmaker could subsist. Notes on Soienoe and Industry. A writer in the Ironmonger expresses the opinion that ideal is liable to be changed by the action of time unaided. by any external, mechanical, or el:entice' influence, and, in support of his view that time alone appears to be sufficient to produce these ohanges, lie citeaeveral examples of failures whieli have occurred within his own experience, some fiat steel plates cracking spentaneously, and others on being tested by dropping. Mention is made of numerous boiler plates that °rack- ed after the boilers had been at work for years and weeks after the steam pressure had been reduced and the water run Qua end this too, in face of every boiler being tested to double its working pressure when new. Auother bistence is the cracking of hardened armoratiercing steel abelle several mouths after their delivery to purebasersa this being attributed to the After effeets or the hardening process—though, if indepan- dent of time, the sholls ought to creak during the operation or not at all. Such accullar- Wee are presumed to be caused chiefly by the unequal tension of the metal, whether due to the process of oil hardening or to some other fact. It is well known that some cutlery manufacturere prefer to keep their cast -steel ingots two or three years before working them up, their experience demon- atratiug that the steel is thereby improved. It bas recently been pointed out that few of the industrial occupations, as at present pursued, exceed in unhealthfulneas that of the potter—that, on joining the trade, the mortalityis low, but eller the age of 35 ' i years it s am above the leverage. In 'Eng- land this mortalite has been capecially noticeable, it being exceeded only by cost- ermongers' miners and. hotel servants. This highdeath rate, indeed, in this speciality, has led the Register -General of • England to seriously consular whet, if any- g,.thmmay be consicierea it remedy, It Is claimed fair America that in this respect, the potters are much better off, working as they do in factories that are larger, better light- ed awl ventilated, and wbere the use of anthracite coal so universally prevents the smoky atmosphere which surronuds the English pottery districts. There Is certainly no doubt of the correetuess of the statement that it is not so much the physical labor i that injures the potter as it s the dust arising from the materials on which he works. At cme 01 14110 principal lead miues 10 Brussels, the Mechernich, some special fea- tures have been introduced, for not only is the mine electrically lighted, but a current is used throughout for economy of Au enormous quantity is daily raised—more than ,3,000 tons—but so perfect are the autos =tic arrangements that only twenty-five hands are roe nired for this great output. A peculiar appliance is in vogue which has proved a great conveniente, audit is thought is destined to quite general adoption. When a wagon of ore is tipped at the shaft's mouth electric contract is :nada in the tip- ping and a small needle in the office makes a re t mark on a band of paper revolving by clockwork, the object of this being not so much to give automatically the number of wagons tipped, as to show at a glauce that the ihaulingis proceeding regularly ; the paper band. s divided into half hours for it week throughout, and, at the end of the week's work, it is clearly seen and known at once what number of wagons Is ve been tipped on any day and at any time. Some valuable experiments have been made at one of the n oat extensive manu- facturing and engineering plants in Boston relating to the resistance to the flow of air through pipes at a high velocity. These experiments show that a single opening of a given area, is vastly more effective to con- duct steam or air than the same area divid- ed into small separate apertures It is evi- dent that a long, thin opening will not carry the same amount of steam that a wider and shorter opening will when of the same area—or, if two openings have the same area, the one which has the width and length more nearly the same will carry the larger amount of steam in a given time and at a given pressure. Again, as locomotives arc now built only a fraotion of the total weight is utilized at speeds above forty miles per hour ; hence an increased weight is not necessary to pull heavy trains at high speeds after they have attained speed, There is also steam capacity in the ordinary locomotive to furnish the steam required to do heavy express work. The only means, therefore, of increasing the .power of ex- press locomotives at speed ni to increase the mean effectian pressure in the cylinders, and to do this there is no surer way, it is asserted; than to increase the outside lap and the travel of the valve. One of the decided advances of late lathe photographic industry is the production of it plate -coating machine as a substitute for coating such plates by hand—the well known slow process �f pouring the emulsion over the glass from it graduate or dipper. In this new machine the plates are fed to an endless belt or carrier, the lower part of the belt mining through ice water; the plate passei under the coating apparatus, and out at the other end of . the machine, evenly coated, and with the emulsion so thoroughly chilled that the platee are ready for standing on end to dry. The coating of the plates by this means is almost as rapid as cards can be fed into a job printing press. The work has to be done in the dimmest of ruby lights hoise ever, owing to the extreme sensitiveness of the emulsion to white light. Nothing in the English photographic methods and appli- ances, it ie stated, at all Keels this unique American device for the paepose intencleal, LIES ON A NILE DEFIABBAIL A. Charming Way ro Wet e Part of Egypt tr One Is Not in a anseree Given a good boat and crew and pleasant companion -a, I know nothing more enjoyable in the way of travel than life for some months on board e delmbeith on elie Nile. The Nile is seldom rough enough to cause discomfort even to the most timid, and an the worst the delutheali mut be moored against the bank while the storm lats. Another greet advantage of sailing on the Nile is the steadiness of the wind. From the beginning of winter to the end of spring —that is, while the Nile is navigable—the north wind blows steadily ea stream with sufficient force to drive sailing boats against the current at it fair pace - wbile on the other hand, the current is st'rong enough to trey a boat without sells down against the wind except when it Moves it gale. A pleasure dehebeah under full sail live. beautiful sight. It eas one great sail, lat lateen pattern, attached, to it yard of enor-4 mous length. Small sails are added as oa, caaion may require. Ovec the cabins and, saloon is a railed high poop, with easy chairs and lounges, and gay with planta and flowers. To the east stretchesthe Arabian, to the west the Lybian desert, each flanked , by a range of bare hills, which in a feta pieces touch the river, but lie for the most part two or three miles back on eithw. side. t Ages before the pyramtila the Niles d the whole of the valley to the der' ° ' acme 200 feet, end the yellow hills, nok. are, were clothed with a luxuriant vegetation, of whiali the evidence still remains in pet- rified forests and fossilized plants, It was plainly it period of heavy rainfall and im- petuous torrents, carving out vest gorgea and pouringtheir waters into the Nile. i The Nile s a busy river, full of life and movement, dehabea.lis, bent 00 pleasure or on trade, passing up itud down its stream with scarcely any Intermission, while its banks are full of interest to the lover of the picturesque; crowds of women, with graceful forms and, not seldom, very come- ly faces, filling heavy earthen jars with • water, and earrying them home on their heads ; men, with skins of breeze, toiling in relays of three hours each at the abadufs under it burning sun, and einging the while to relieve the monotony of their daily labor; boatmen, iloating with the stream or sailing againat it, and they also singing a weird, wailing chant, like the echo of it hopeless cry wafted across tbe centuries from hard bondage under Egyptian task- masters, such as the Israelites endured be. Sore the exodus ; 'flocks of peliCalis litintl- ing an the Rana or manoeuvring in the ai' like taddiers an the marob ; kingfishers, now hovering over the water, now darting bee neath its aortae° in (meat of apassiem fish. And then there is the mysterious Nile its self, mysterious still, though its sources have been disclosed and its long meanaer- inge traelted, from the uplands of Central Africa to the margin of the Itlialend Sea. The voyager now, it is true, madom seea crocodile, unlesshe goes beyond the Second Cataract; still leas has he a chance of wit- nessing any of these fierce encounters be- tween crocodiles and hippopotami, which are sculptured on the walls of the temple of ladfu. In those ancient dean when the shores of the Nile down to Calm wertlined with reeds and papyrus, the river ab (laded with crocodiles and hippopotami, both of which afforded excellent—albeit eoreetimea perilous—sport to the dwollera " on the banks. Firearms and steamers driven those fierce monsters of th yona the Second Cataract. But, apart from its inhabitants, itself has it mystic interest of its own. not wonder that in the mythology of Egypt it was endowea with life, and some sort of divine honors. Its inundations, while their causes N known, placed it outside the eate rivers,and invested it with an attnospli mystery. And in tbe youth of our vac when woods and glades and rivers were be- lieved to own appropriate denizens, itis easy to understand how the Nile came to be re- garded as endowed with more than useural life. It is so full of sub-ourreuts and eddies that the amphibious natives, who swim like fish, will not venture to cross it except as- tride on bogs of wood. In the stillness of the night these eddies gurgle and murmur past your dehabea.h like spirits from "the vast deep" engagedin confidential talk. And who can adequately deseribe those splendid dawns and gorgeous sunsets whicb ate among the commonplaces of Nilesconeryl I have seen thewholesky, from the zenith to the horizon, become one molten, mantling sea of color and fire, every ripple and wave transfused into unsullied, shadowless crim, son and purple and scarlet and opalescent hues, shading off into colors for which our language supplies no words read previous ex- • perience no ideas. This splendor of inde- scribeble intermingling colors appears ab sunset on the western horizon, and. is fol- lowed by it soft sheen; as of moonlight, re- flected on the hills on the eastern bank of the river. In short, life on a dahabeah eis Rae per- petual picnic. You stop whore you please, and either enjoy the dolce far *elite of re- mainmg on board or making excursions to old temples or tombs, or taking pert in a ver- itable picnic in the deseet—and it picnic in the desert, under favorable auspices, is not likely to be forgotten. C'hitese laborers are being.. importedanto- Africa tosteach the natiyes how,a6aealtivate tett ana tobacco. a A Delicious Cough Candy. A delightful cough candy is made from the following receipt, and will be found a most agreeable medicine as well as beneficial to all who use their voices and are troubled with throat affections: Break up a cupful of slippery elm jaark let soak an hour or two in a cupful of water Half fill a cup with fax seed, and fill lip to the brim with weber, leaving it to soak the same time as the slippery Cline When yo are ready to make tt e„candy, put one poun and a half of brown sugar in a porcel stew -pan over the fire. Strain the wat from the fax seed and slippery elm an pour over it. Stir constantly until it be gins to boil and tarn back to sugar. Then pour it oub, and it will break up into smal crumbly eieces. A little lemon juice ma be added if desired . Bo sure to use th same measuring cup. Liquefied Air. "The resources of the lecture -room it decidedly increased," says The Indepen dent, "whenlarofessor Dewar wa,s able, in lecture on chemistry in Lon ion lately, to produce lictuid oxygen in the presence of th( audience literally by pints, and to pass lior iiide air atbout the room in claret glasses, Oxygen liquefies at about 250 degrees belme zero and air at 343 degrees below zero. 11 the earth were reduced to a temperature of 350 degrees below zero, it would be cover: ed with a sea of lipid air thirty-five feet deep. Professor °Dewar's process., of lique faing oxygen and nitrogen waa with a hint data patinas of. lipid. ethylene A/al:flit, pomeds of nitrousoxide, with the ma of two air Pumps and two coniotiasors driven by steam.,"