The Exeter Advocate, 1896-4-23, Page 10LIFTED BY LOVE;
Or, Row the Wharf Waif
Became a Princess.
rYBLisase se 8PS014.L a,10100i SNT.
The driver wee doing something to' the
horse's bit, No ono else was to be soon
on the terrace. 1 saw hint stop to 1uu.c
at me, but as I drew nearer he turned
his face and busied himself again with
the harness. On the fanlight of the
door was written, "Grandison Chang
bars." It was there that Gordon ?ridgy
his rooms. 1 stopped, asking myself.
what I should. do now.
The brisk walk had dissipated that
part of toy anxiety a Well was due to
morbid iutaginatiun. It was ou ncy
mind to ask the tiriter of thebrougbtttu .
!if he had seen any one leave the house
when be cast his eyes around and gave
me another furtive look.
He was a peculiar looking man, gaunt
and ungainly, with deep sunk eyes and
hollow cheeks, and the sidelong glance
under his beetling brows was so sus-
picions and uncanny that in my nerv- I
ons. hesitating mood. I could not sum-
man resolution to question him, I
walked toward the end of the terrace to
settle what course I should take, but be-
fore I had gone a dozen yards from the
door r turned round, impatient of my
indecision, with the resolve to speak to
the man. Some one had just come from
the open door and stood now looking
down the terrace in the opposite direc-
�tton. He turned his head sharply and
`looked toward me.
it was not Tarns. I saw that at the
first glance, but the next instant I per-
ceived that it was Kavanagh. I knew
'loin by his slight, erect, military looking
'figure, his close fitting coat and the car•
Brett hat drawn low over his brows. He
• must have seen me and might have re •
-
cognized me, for I stood under the light
of a lamp, but as if from indifference or
polite discretion he took no further
notice of me, but sauntered to the driver
of the brougham. spoke a few words to '
kiln, inaudible to me at that distance,
and then sauntered back into the house. j
His presence reassured me, and I was
glad that I had neither gone up to Got.-
!don's rooms nor spoken to the driver.
Obviously he had dropped in and pro- ,
'longed the visit of Tarns. Nevertheless
could not make up my mind to go back
to Lambeth yet. I turned again and
walked on to the end of the terrace,
where the railings at the corner of Adam
street screened me, and there I waited.
Very soon afterward Tarns came out {
with Gordon and Kavanagh. They 1
stood chatting for a few minutes ; then
they shook hands, Kavanagh stepped
'into the brougham, and Gordon strolled
off with Tarns in the direction of Villiers r
street.
The brougham passed me at the corner
of Adam street, and the driver cast
another furtive glance at me, bat Kava-
nagh was occupied iu lighting a cigar.
ette.
CHAPTER XVIII.
{ AY OLD IMAM
. I made my way down to the embank-
Fent and hurried along on the less open
de till I caught sight of Gordon and
ara; strolling some distance in advance
ion the other side of the road. Then I
/relaxed my pace, still keeping them in
;night until they reached Lambeth and
went into our house together.
Tarns bad obviously returned for fear
;itis absence might alarm me, and his
lhanal companion, having accompanied
im so far, had turned in to finish the
'night over a last pipe. With a little
khesistation I drew near the house, and
bearing their voices in the front room
If quietly opened the front door, entered,
lint the door as silently and then slipped
unheard up to my room.
"I'm glad you didn't sit up for me last
might," said Tarns when we met in the
morning. "Kavanagh dropped in with
some startling news from the house"—
be held some official post there—"and I
'staid out a couple of hours later than I
intended."
Kavanagh called in the course of the
afternoon. He asked if Tarns was at
borne, but instead of going directly up
to the workshop he carne in to see me.
After exohanring the customary civili-
ties in his ordinary tone of voice he
raised his finger with a significant
glance, crossed the room and opened the
floor softly, but with such celerity that
tad Mere Lucas been eavesdropping he
ould certainly have discovered her.
Ole stood ina listening attitude for a few
+seconds ; then closing the door noiselessly
)ie returned to his seat with a shrug and
a look of vexation in his face.
"Nothing has luippened?" he asked as
the seated himself near me.
"Nothing—to him."
"To any one else i" he asked sharply.
"Nothing of any importance,"
"Mere Lucas betrayed no signs of ir-
ritation when he went out last night ?"
I shook my head.
"She was just the same as she always
is just. If there had been any differ-
ence, .I must have seen it."
"She did not go down stairs in the
aright, you think ?"
"After Taras went up I put my door
wide open and kept alight burning all
might. No one could pass my door
without my knowing it."
"Your vigilance niay have warned
her. On the other hand"—He broke off,
and nursing his knee sank his chin in his
band, knitting his brows in thought.
Suddenly raising his head and turning
to ate,, he said:
"I am afraid' must confess to having
)been fooled. I am still more afraid that
I have done Mere Lucas a great in-
nstice. You have a far better knowl-
edge of her character than Z. Do you
think her capable of deceit and trickery
--of conspiriug at the ruin of her mas-
ter 2"
"No, that.I don't. I believe she's as
)good as any one."
"I'm sincerely glad to hear you say
leo. It seemed unlikely to me; that is
=why I felt it negessary to say nothing
ton the subject to Tarns."
"He'd neverhave believed you."
• "That was another reason for sayin
xrothing till I had absolute facts to sup
ort my suspicion.. Yon , have not said
S. word to him or her either, I hope, with
ea pect to my communication ?"
No, not a word. But how about
Oat friend you spoke of ?" o t
"Alii there again I believe 1 was all
St fault. I believe she is no more'a con-
lspirator than poor old Mere Lucas her-
eelf. I find she is a cookat a restaurant
an Greek street, and so of ` course elle ,is
not at noerty to come here ants see Mere
Lucas."
He looked terribly vexed as he admit-
ted this. "Do you know a man named
Matveef 2" he asked abruptly.
"I think I've heard tb.e name, but I
don't know him."
"He's one of the poor beggars who
come to sponge on Tares, It was he
who put this precious nonsense into my
head. The feet is, the lower class of
nihilists are like a set of starving dogs
—jealous of each other and ready to
snap at any one who seems a little. bet-
ter off than the rest. It is natural that
they should envy the old woman her
comfortable position here, but it sim-
ply proves what a treacherous, faithless
lot they are when one can circulate such.
slanders as this. I fear Ihave made you
very anxious. I hope you will forgive
me. For the sake of Tarns, whose life
is so dear to us, and of suoh enormous
ivaportapce to the welfare of his country,
one cannot afford to turn a deaf ear to
any hint at such a time as this, when
real peril exists."
"That's all right. I feel just like
that. Don't you mind telling me any-
thing. I'd rather know it than not if it
makes me ever so frightened. Besides
it makes you feel so light hearted and
happy to find it isn't true that you can't
be vexed by what's past."
"Yon cannot have better " philosophy
or better feeling than that, said, he,
shaking nay hand kindly as he rose.
The feeling of relief, now that I had
no longer any serious reason to regard.
Mere Lucas with mistrust or look for
the development of some sinister design,
afforded me such happiness that I al
most forgot the existence of danger, and
when Tarns about a week later told me
that he should not return probably till
2 or 3 o'clock from the smoking concert
to which he had been invited I bade him
good night 'when he went out after din-
ner without any feeling of alarm.
That afternoon my dressmaker had
sent to say that the dress she was mak-
ing for me would be ready for me to try
on this evening. Nothing could have
happened more opportunely, for I in-
tended to take Tarns by satirise with
this beautiful velvet, and here was the
very chance I needed of getting the
important work of fitting done without
his knowing anything about it.
The moment he was gone I ran to my'
room, dressed, and telling Mere Lucas
where I was going—for she was in the
secret—I started off for Kensington
road, where my dressmaker lived.
It was between 8 and 9. At that time
Lambeth road is deserted. Heavy rain
had fallen in the afternoon. and such
sounds there were seemed particularly
clear. The rattle of a train over the
railway bridge, a whistle from a tug, on
the river behind me, were noticeable by
their distinctness; my own footsteps as
I hurried along made quite a clatter on
the wet pavement.
Struck by this fact, I presently fan-
cied 1 could hear an echo to iny foot-
fall. Was it that or some one follow-
ing? To satisfy the idle doubtlglanced
back, Just within sight a man was fol-
lowing- There was nothing in that to
call for particular attention, but when
I had gone another hundred yards or so
the echoing sound arrested my wander-
ing thoughts and I glanced round again.
The man's figure was there exactly, at
the sante distance. It was odd that
both should be walking in one direction
at a precisely similar pace. For the
next hundred yards I walkedslower, but
the following step carne no ueeeer, and
when I turned the man's figure appear-
ed to be just as far off as before.
It was unpleasant even to fancy that
my steps were dogged, and I turned the
corner of Lanfheth road sharp with the
determination to go on ata still quicker
pace now that I was out of the man's
sight, but the whistle of a tram sug-
gested a still better means of avoiding
annoyance, and I stopped with the de-
termination to ride the remaining dis-
tance.
Just as I stepped into the car the man
came running round the corner fYoin
the Lambeth road, and as I took uty
seat he sprang on to the footboard. As
he passed the door to go up the steps
the lightfrom within fell on his face.
There was no mistaking the yellow
complexion, the sparse black beard and
high cheek bones nor the sunk head and
high shoulders.
It was Drigo!
CHAPTER XIX.
DItIGO.
I got out of the train at my dress-
maker's. The car moved on, but glanc-
ing after it I perceived the man hastily
descending. He must have waited till
he saw me step out on to the pavement,
and I could only hope, as I slipped into
the house and hastily closed the door,
that he had lost sight of me in getting
down from the car.
With the terrors of going home alone
before me, I found little pleasure in tru-
ing on my dress and discussing the
matter with my dressmaker, but I
lingered till she had nothing more to
say and I could invent no pretext for
staying longer.
I looked around eagerly when we
went to the door, and to nay great relief
saw no one who looked like Drigo. I
concluded that he had lost sight of me
or gone off on a wrong scent.
"It rains a little. May I lend you an
umbrella?" asked the dressmaker.
"No, I think I will wait for a tram,"
said I, "that will take me home to my
door," and when the car came in sight I
bade her "good night" and ran downto
stop it. As I stepped in my heartquaked,
far I saw the man I dreaded. .come out
from the shadow of the wall, and before
I had found a sest I heard his foot grat-
ing on the steps outside.
It was a Westminster car—not, as I
bad hoped, one that would take me to
Lambeth. To avoid the terrible stretch
of deserted street I went on as far as
Hercules buildings. That gave Me a
little start, for until he saw me get out
my pursuer could not tell which turning
I should take. Glancing up, I saw
Drigo s hideous face peering over the
railing to discover who was alighting,
and the moment he recognized me lap
began to scuttle down the steps.
Iran without stopping till I reached
the tavern at the Lambeth road end of
the buildings, thinking in my weakness'
that I would seek protection if he was
on my heels rather than venture alone
on that last strip of deserted road. I
had made up my mind now that the
enemy of Tarns had resolved to put me
out of the way as a preliminary to at-
tacking him and bad given the job to
this villain. But he was still at some
distance—just near enough to keep me
in sight, no more. It would be absurd.
to ask protection from a man so far off,
r.' said to myself, and ashamed of my.
cowardise I again took to my heels. He
might have overtaken me in a few min-
utes, and there was no one to prevent
him strangling ine in the open road had
he Chosen, but he came no nearer.
Whether I ran or whether 1 walked,
whenever I tuned he seemed to be pre-
cisely at the same distance front me—
just near enough to keep in sight -no
nearer, and as I stood panting at the
door waiting for Mere Lucas to' let me
in I perceived him standing motionleset
by the lamppost at the corner of Lam-
beth palace.
Concealingmy trepidation from Mere
Lucas as wel as I could, I hurried up
to my room, and there tried to find an
explanation of this strange pursuit. As
I grew calmer and my thoughts more
collected one fact became more and
more evident.' Drigo would not have
suffered me to escape in this way had
his designs been directed against me.
His spirit of revenge would not have
rested content with giving me• a scare.
And as he had not taken advantage of
this opportunity to injure me it was
scarcely credible that he would make
any, further attempt in that direction.
"Probably," 1 said, going to the win-
dow, to reassure myself, "seeing that I
have come in and am not likely to go
out again to -night, he has gone away."
But looking out ander the window
blind I discovered him standing on the
embankment over against the bridge
nearly opposite the house. What did
that mean? .A. solution of the mystery
began to dawn upon me as soon as I per-
ceived thatthe man had been posted
here ta-watch my movements and quick-
ly took the definite form of conviction.
An attack was to be made, not on me,
as I had foolishly imagined in iny fright,
but upon Tarns. He was to be waylaid
on his return by the gang, who had de-
tached Drigo to prevent me communi-
cating any suspicion of their design to
him. But a week before I had watched
outside Grandison chambers and fol-
lowed Tarns home. That fact might
very well be known to the secret enemy,
who seemed to be acquainted with every
movement of Tares and clearly explained
an object in setting an outpost tc watch.
me. As I recalled this incident the
figure of the man who drove Kavanagh's
brougham came before my mind, and I
saw again the furitive glance of sus-
picion with which he regarded me.
Might he not be a spy obtaining infor-
mation by some covert means from
Kavanagh?
Mere Lucas came to the door and bade
me good night. When she was gone, I
went to the window and peeped again
behind the blind. Drigo had not stirred
from his place at the foot of the bridge.
His presence served to confirm my sus-
picions, and I saw that Tarns, to be
saved, must be warned of the danger.
But how was I to reach him? I saw
clearly enough that it would not do to
expose myself to a personal encounter
with Drigo. That would not save Tarns.
Yet how could I get to Tarns without
that risk?
In seeking an answer to this question
it presently occurred to the that work-
men had been doing something to the
wall which separated the yard from
Gordon's pottery, and recollected hear-
ing that an opening was to be made to
facilitate the transport of the group to
the kiln, where it was to be burned. If
I could get into the pottery, I might
find au exit in the street at the back,
and so get away unseen and unsuspected
by Drigo,
.Leaving the light burning in my
room. I ran down to the kitchen. pro-
vided thyself with a candle and silent-
ly went out into the yard. A heap of
bricks and rubbish showed where the
men had been working, and on lighting
the caudle I found to my inexpressible
joy that a break had been made in the
wall and roughly closed for the night
with a couple of boards. I pushed one
aside and found that I could easily get
into the cellar beyond, where I saw the
square blocks of clay piled. up from
floor to ceiling.
With some little difficulty I made my
way. through the cellar into the ware-
house and thence through an office/11M
the shop, and here I thought I had no-
thing to do but unbolt the door and
walk out. But when I came to ex-
amine the fastenings I discovered a fact
which I might have foreseen, knowing
that no one inhabited the pottery—the
door was locked on the outside. My
heart fell, and I stood looking at the
solid lock stupidly for. some moments,
quite overcome by the hopelessness of
my position. In the silence that fol-
lowed my ear caught the sound. of a
distant footstep and then the heavy
scrape of a nailed boot on a ladder and
the rustle of straw on the warehouse
floor. With unreasoning terror I
figured Drigo pursuing me hither, and
my heart stood still with the conscious-
ness that I was utterly at his mercy.
A irlimmer of light appeared. It
grew stronger, and then a pair of rough
corduroys appeared at the head of the
steps with a lantern on one side and a
crowbar on the other, but the next min-
ute I breathed again as a man came into
sight whom I recognized as a hand em-
ployed in the pottery. He could say
nothing for astonishment on finding me
there, nor was his amazement lessened
when I made him understand that I
wanted to leave the pottery without go•
ing back through the yard.
"Well, miss," said he, "there's only
one way you can go out if so be you don't
want to go back the way you come, and
that's the way I come in when I've got
my fires to look after, as the case is to-
night. It's a longer way round and a
sight dirtier, for you'll have to go
through the coalyard and out into Ferry
street, where the road's all up for the
drains."
The eagerness with which I agreed' to
take this roundabout and unpleasant
route must have led him to doubt
whether on the whole I was quite in my
right mind, and indeed my exultation
and joy were little short of madness
when 1 got out into Ferry street, where
I knew I was quite safe from Drigo.
CHAPTER XX.
.A FtYBSUIT AND RNSCun.
A simple scheme of action suggested
itself to my mind as I hurried along the
back streets, and conning into Kenning-
ton road I looked about for a cab. A
smart new hansom stood by the curb in
the light of a public house, and as I
stopped, wonderingif it were disengaged,,
the driver came out' and said bristly,
"Cab, miss?"
He was as smart as his cab and ,look-
ed' mare like a gentleman's servant than,
an ordinary cabman. I liked the look
of him.
"Are you disengaged for a good long
while—perhaps four or five hours?." I
asked.
"Where do you want to go, miss!
"Burlington street. You will have
to wait therefor a gentleman, and he
may not coarse out of his club before 2
o'clock."
"All right, miss. If it ain't running
along all the time, I don't mind how
long I'm on. in a manner of sneak-incr."
"If you
do what I tell
you,I'll
pay -you
on
just what you ask. Can you put out
that light inside?"
"Certainly, roles."
$e seemed to understand my position
to a nicety and asked which end of Burl-
ington street he was to drive to,
"The Pantheon club," said I. " Draw
up, if you please, so that I can see any
one who comes out "
. To BB CONTINUED.
HARD WORK AND HEALTH.
Men Injured More by Imprudence Than
by Continuous Labor.
A number of suooessfal business man
were engaged In a most animated con-
versation in one of the rooms of an -up-
town club t.,a other day, when the con-
versation turned on a newspaper para-
graph that announced with great im-
pressiveness tend a man known all over
the civilized world as a brilliant writer
and humorist was dying from overwork.
Regrets were expressed at the condition
of one who was known to many members
of the club, and some comments were in-
dulged in on the folly of wanking oneself
to death.
A man of fit ur thereabouts broke into
the conversation with the remark: --
"I don t believe that any man ever
died of legitimate hard wort, and I am
willing to bank up my statement against
any reasonable proof that may be fur-
nished.
"Title naturally created a sensation,
and there were very sharp criticisms on
this man's position But he persisted,
sad gave his reasons, which were so full
of common sense and logio that most of
the company were,00tnpelled to admit the
truth of them.
Men do not die of legitimate work,
neither do they, as a rulo, die of wbab
they do during business hours. ' If the
man would leave his office and go quietly
home to rest or to reasonable recreation
he would not bo likely to stiffer in
health. But hedoesnot do this. Be goes
out of his aloe to the' club, to the bil-
liard room, to the saloon, the gaming
house or other occupations or amuse-
ments even loss reputable.
Many a man rushes through his busi-
ness, simply that he may get away to
plunge into excesses of various sorts.
There may be instances in sable!) a com-
plicated business, handicapped by look
of means to oarrp it on in a comfortably
smooth fashion, may wear on a man's
mind during his waking and sleeping
hours, and eventually undermine bis vi-
tality. But this is not legitimate busi-
ness. No man has n right to work against
suob desperate odds. 1t is much bettor to
begin ou a smaller scale, to adapt one's
hopes to the means at hand and remem-
ber that vital force is too valuable to be
squandered in straining for the almost
impossible.
Straightforward oommerlal trensao-
tions, unattended with the enormous
risks that many men take, are healthful,
and rarely bring bud results. Indeed, all
mines being equal, it Is net businsss
worry that kills, except as a man lifts
the burden of business worry on shoul-
ders weakened by excesses, dissipations
and unwarranted .indulgences.
If man would attribute their ill -health
to its just cause and would be honest
with themselves anti the world, in the
majority of cases they would be forded
to admit that it is uutsido matters that
cause the brain on their systems and
eventually bring than to broken health
and shattered int'ileots. The man who
has something to concoal,wbo bas unwar-
ranted business or domectio affairs to
look after, matters about which he must
be perpetually on the qui viva, lest some
one should detect him, is the man who,
nine times out of ten, will break down,
and this dissipation is almost invariably
charged to overwork in business.
"Poor fellow, he was so devoted to
business that he wore Himself out at
it," is the verdict, and a more unjust and
unwarranted one It would be diIiaoult to
render.—Now York Ledger.
A Motor to ltteduce the Labor ou Sewing
Macbiaes.
Sewing machines are usually driven by
a treadle to which one or both of the fent
may be applied. This answers very well
for the stitching of exceptionally stout
materials, and for the purposes of various
machines driven with the foot by mon,
snob as turners or printers, but for aver-
age sewing work it has the drawback of
requiring more effort than is necessary.
The extra fatigue caused in this way is a
serious consideration in the case of fe-
males employed all day long at the ma-
chine. A modified treadle has been intro-
duced by which the labor of the worker
will be greatly economized without any
sacrifice of efficiency. The ordinary
treadle is horizontal when at rest, and
has to be forcibly depressed by the foot
in order to turn a flywheel by means of a
Drank. •In the new system the flywheel
and crank are retained, but the hori-
zontal treadle is replaced by a vertical
one, wbioh is hinged to the under side of
the table on which the machine rests, and
hangs down ahnost to the floor, where it
ends in a horizontal platform for the
foot. The worker's foot is not moved up
and down to drive the Machine by press-
ing the treadle, but produces the same
effect with less labor by a gentle swing-
ing of the foot backward and, forward.
The muscles chiefly employed are the
flexors and extensors of the knee joint,
and the weight of the foot and leg is sup-
ported by the'platforna on which the foot
rests. One of the most prominent points
in the new motor is that in operating it
the continual movements of the thigh,
inevitable under the present system, is so
diminished as to be hardly perceptible.
Seamstresses, who sit all day at the ma-
chine, find that the to -and -from move-
ment of the foot is much less exhausting
than the old alternate upward and down-
ward movement,
Electrical Drying of Fruit.
Fruit dryers are turning their atten-
tion to electric heating, which promises
to develop into a most important addi-
tion to their resources. Freshly gathered
fruit must: be dried before 1t is paokeel.
The process, though apparently simple,
necessitates great care, and if the tem-
perature is not regulated to a nicety,
there is groat Bangor• of the fruit being
damaged. Large drsingrams are gener-
ally heated by steam, but, in the smaller
drying faotories this system Is not always
practicable. Fuel, moreover, is often ex-
pensive, and water power, in parts where
fruit flourishes, is usually abundant, In
such situations electric heating oould be
used with advantage, The perfect regu-
lation allows of any temperaturebeing
obtained, and, whatis of great cense-
gfieuce, In many each installations, ,prac-
tically no attention would be required.'
The electrical plant could also be used for.
lighting, and a few motors to aid the
packingcould easily bo laid down. The
gain tntle by the shipment of cargoes of
sound fruit would far more than cover
the cost of running the necessary ma-
chinery.
LADIES' FANCY WAiST.
To be Worn With Either Lang or Short
Sleeves.
This very elegant evening waist Is
made from any of the new brocaded or
figured silks. The front is very full, but
unlike most of the waists which have
been out this winter, the fulness Is con-
fined to the neck. and does not run onto
the shoulder seams; this effect makes the
waist perfectly smooth and well -fitting at
the sides; the gathers are brought in
closely at the bottom, but the whole of •
the front is lett very bouffant. The waist
hooks invisibly up the middle of the
•
back. The straight collar is ornamented
with squares trimmed with jet. A garni-
ture of jet beads in scallops is put onto
the waist and over the shoulders, The
peculiar beauty and usefulness of this lit-
tle garment are shown In the sleeves whioh
can be either long or short as the wearer
pleases. A broad girdle entirely covered
with jet passementerie gives an exceed-
ingly stylish finish to the waist.
How to Pack Away furs, '
"About this time," as the old aimanao
MSC "look out for instrnotions about
preserving wearing apparel from the rav-
ages of moths. Every woman must know
the theory, but every autumn a wail goes
up from women who have not been able
to make praotioe and theory agree, and
who and their furs and woolen garments
more or less the worse from, the inroads
of moths
The secret of preventing moth ravages,
in a nutshell, is this: Prevent moth mil-
lers from laying their eggs in the gar-
ments. If garments are packed away
free from miller eggs, and are kept where
the moth miller can't got at them, there
is no danger of the goods being injured.
If there are moth eggs in the gouds when
they are put away, all the "prevents
Ives" that oan be packed among the
goods will not prevent the eggs hatching
out the worms that eat the goods,
Furriers, as a general thing, do not
peek away their furs. They fill their shop
with strong -smelling drugs, and onoo a
week shake and refold or rehang the gar-
ments to keep them from becoming
creased and marred, and feel safe enough
with these provisions to accept private furs
and insure them agaisnt damage. But the
housewife cannot -turn her house into a
drug shop, and is obliged to put her furs
into special receptacles. The best one
would undoubtedly be a light room with
hooks and shelves and a tightfitting door
and window. Thin room could be aired
occasionally, a screen in tate window pre-
venting moth millers getting in surrepti-
tiously, and old sheets or unbleached or
calico covers would keep off dust.
In the absence of such a rooin dark
closets must generally be made the re-
ceiving places for wools and furs. Moths
love the dark, and have a penchant for
tucking themselves away out of sight.
Therefore it not infrequently happens
that goods are 'put away moth free, but
in closets where stray mi lers aro hov-
ering, and the result upsets alt calcula-
tions as to the efficacy of all prevent-
ives. To outwit the millers do all the
packing in the sunlight. First Olean
clothing free from spots, beat and dust
and hang every piece out of doors on a
breezy, sunshiny day. Bring thein in at
night and hang them out a second day
for an hour or two, as it is not wise to
pack away goods that have lain over night
exposed to the sly miller looking for a
soft nest, without another airing. After
a final shake, do the packing in trunks,
boxes, drawers or bags, but always In
something that can be covered up tightly.
Be sure these receptacles are clean, teen
line with newspapers and have the edges
overlap widely. Between every two lay-
erspf goods spread a newspaper, and put
one over the top.. Moths do not like
printers' ink and will not eat through it.
The use of the paper is to prevent moths
getting at the goods from the outside,
and from eating in more than one layer
if by chance. a collection of eggs has
been deposited in some garment before it
Is packed away, despite one's best en-
deavore. Dresses, and men's sults, which
cannot well be folded, may best be bung
upon wooden "shoulders" and covered
with a cotton bag. This bag should have
double -stitched seams and the top should
be folded down twice and basted, a strip
of the stuff being wound about the wire
hook where it comes through the top of
the bag to hang the shoulder up by.
To sum up, it is not the miller, but
the miller's eggs, from wbioh are hatched
the ravenous moths that do the mischief.
Moth marbles and camphor, tobacco and
pepper, and all the other odorous sub-
stances are useful only where the air can
be so saturated with them that millers
cannot live in lt. They do not prevent the
hatching out of eggs once laid. Brushing
dislodges eggs, wind and sunshine and
beating operate8 to keep millers at bay,
and the combination of these agents with
keen eyes and newspapers and tightly -
covered receptacles will prevent moth
ravages without the aid of any ill -smell-
ing or expensive chemicals,
It .may not be generally known that
while all, woolen Is beloved of'moths, not
all furs are. The miller seldom settles
down, to lay her eggs upon sealskin or
Persian lamb, for instance, but will get
at marten wherever it happens to be un-
less the utmost care Is taken to prevent
her doing so. The explanation is that
certain dyes are obnoxious to the fastidi-
ous moth, , while certain natural scents
please her mischievous mightiness. If,
therefore, your marten -trimmed cape or
gown is kept about after 'moths begin to
fly, to be worn on chance days, be sure
that the garments ars' not left hanging in
a dark place for. many hours at a;tinte.
The more others are untrue, the snore
God needs loyalty in us. ,
You can generally tell whether people
love the Lord by the kind of company
they keep.
COLOR OF WOMEN'S EYES.
The Mere Question of Pigment Has S ttied
Harry a Man's Fate.
"Did you ever notion that men always
instinctively put confidence in a girl w1Nh
bine eyes, and have their suspicions of
the girl with brilliant black ones, and
will you kindly tell me why" writes Lil-
ian Bell in April Ladies' Hoene Jeurnat.
"Is it that the limpid blue eye, transpae.
ent and gentle, suggests all the soft,
womanly virtues, and because he thinks
he can see through it, clear down into
that blue-eyed girl's soul, that she is the
kind of girl he fannies she is I think it
is, but some of the greatest little frauds
I know are the parry, kitteny girls with
big lnnooent blue eyes. Blazing blank
eyes, and the rich warm colors which
dark-skinned women have to wear, sug-
gest energy and brilliance and no end of
intellect. Mon look into such eyes and
seem not to be able to see below the sur.
face. They have not the pleasure of a
long, deep gaze into unmeasurable
depths. And so they think her designing
and clever, and perhaps (God save the
mark I) even intellectual, when perhaps
she has a wealth of love and devotion
and borotein stored up behind that im-
pulsive disposition and those dazzling
biaok eyes,whioh would do and dare more
in a minute for some man she had set
that greet heart of hers upon, than your
wool-binodod, tranquil blonde would do
in forty years. A more question of pig-
ment in the eye has settled. many a man's
fate in life, and established him with a
wife who turned out to bowery different
from the girl he fondly thought he was
getting."
Hardening Steel by Gas.
The new process of hardening steel by
gas appears to be snaking great headway
in France. It is well known that gas. un-
der great heat, deposits carbon in solid.
form. Upon this depend its light effects,
and also the formation of the so-called
retort graphites, a think covering of pure
oarbon on the walls of the gaslight re-
torts. This deposit is loft by the gas
which strikes the retort wails. This fact.
is the basis of the new invention, by
which steel armor plates are cemented
together. A -very important ;natter in
the production of armor plates is to have
them comparatively soft inside and hard
outside. This hardening is obtainable by
the application of oarbon. l+'ormerly the
process of hardening consisted In cover-
ing
overing the plates with layers of coal and
boating thaw ti1l. they glowed. in the
new process two plates are put into a fear -
team ono on top of the other, with a liol-
low space between. This space Is made
gas tight by means of asbestospacking
put around the edges, and the plates are
heated red-hot, while a stream of light
gas is poured into the hollow space, The
carban thrown out by the gas is greedily
taken up by the glowing plates until they
are thickly covered. The depth of this
carbon coveting oan be regulated by the
nmonnt of gas admitted. In order to se-
cure regular and uniform notion during
the process, and to prevent the pipes that
parry the gas to the hollow space from
absorbing any of the carbon, they are
insulated in other pipes through whioii
water is constantly oiroulating Steps are
now being taken to apply this simple
and rapid carbonizing process to many
other branches of the steel industry.
The Cryptoscope.
But littleadditional detail has been
furnished concerning the wonderful
invention of the cryptoscope by Prof
Salvioni, of the University of Perugia.
By means of this instrument Prof, Sal-
vioul claims that he can actually see
the bones of the living body or hidden
objects through the aid of Roentgen rays.
The oryptoscone is simply a bleak card-
board tube, coated inside with a fluore-
accent matter, such as barium platlno
cyanide, or sulphate of calcium. At one
end is a lens, which enables the observer
to see the fluorescent surface. The object
to be examined is planed in the light of a
Crookes tube, and the observer looks
through the cryptoscope from a suitable
distance. On the fluorescent card board,
which is excited by the Roentgen rays
passing through the object, the shadows
oan bo seen by the eye as though they
were developed on a photographic plata
A. duplicate instrument, made. and tested
in llama, is said to have shown the
bones in the hands, the coins in a purse
or in the clenched hand. The essential
fact in the instrument Is the substitution
of a phosphorescent or fluorescent scree.
for the photographic plate, allowing the
rays which pass through the body to fall
on the screen and excite phosphorescence
in it awarding to their strength, just as
they excite more or less chemical action in
the sensitive plate. If this invention
turns out to be all that is claimed for tit
it will he of infinite value to medical
men in that it will allow of immediate
investigatipn luso the condition of a pa-
tient without tate undesirable delay which
follows on having to wait until the pho-
tograh is developed,
Tho Hollander and Ids Pipe.
The custom of smoking is so prevalent
in Holland that a gonuine Dutch boor,
instead of describing distances between
places by miles or hours, will say a town
or hours is so many pipes away. Thus a
man may reanh Delft from Rotterdam in .
four pipes, but if he go to The :Hague,
he will consume seven pipes during the
journey. All Dutchmen of the lower
class, and not a few in the higher walks
of life, carry in their pockets all requi-
sites for smoking -an enormous box
holding at least half a pound of tobacco,
a pipo of clay or ivory (according to In-
clination or means), instruments to
cleanse h, a pricker to 'remove obetruce
tions from the stein, a Dover of brass to
prevent the sparks or ashes from flying
about, and a bountiful supply of
matches. A Dutchman in Holland with-
out a pipe would be a rara avis—and mush
pipes! Some of thein are of an antiquity
which entitles them to veneration, but
certainly not to respect, and sn monstrous
in size that as weapons of offense or de-
fense they would certainly prove formld-
able,—Now York Times.
A Poeot's Custom,
In the March number of the Cam-
bridge Magazine Miss :Alice Longfellow
reveals a pleasant custom of her father,
which illustrates his kindly and gener-
ous disposition "Whenever be saw is a
newspaPer any pleasant notice of friends'
or acquaintance's, a review of a book, or
'a subject In which they were interested,
he out it out And kept the scraps in an
envelope addressed to the person, and
mailed them when several had accumu-
lated."
Inference.
Garrulous Boarder—Tor ten years my.
habits were as regular as oloolr-work. I
rose at the :stroke of 11; half an hour later
I sat down to breakfast; at 7 I was at
work, dined at 12, ate sapper at 11, and
was in bed at 11.30; ate only hearty food,
and wasn't ill a single day.
Sarcastic' Boarder
Dear me 1 And
what Were you in for? (Awful silence!)
i,