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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1888-3-8, Page 3mow ruteT PUBLISIIED.1 datattattattatteareetrenlan CALL RionTS RaennVan.)Ithe girl took up his naad ,and kiseed it i a burst of gratitude. F „ YQ11 are a good mana' elae said, " Yes LIKE AND I'Poor old grandiather, Bel UNLI By M. E. BRADDON. ll come. 12 --41 • miss me of an e taping, when he 00M0a ham —but anything will be better then it ha been lately. We've both been roleera,ble— eud perhaps eome thy-.---" , She smiled, her face flushed again as it AnTlion on " LADY ATIDLEY'S SECRET, 1:Vyaretem a ve man, ETO. ETC, had flushed, at the firet mentioa 01149,4 Belfield's name. Will they let me come and me my grandfather :sometimes ?" ahe asked. "Of 0011M10, and if you leant to be a val- uable :servant, by and be you will get good wages, and thou you oan be a substantia help to him in his old age. I hope I may be able to help him when he is old," Madge appeared at the Vicarage before three o'clock with all her worldly geode • tied up in a cotton handkerchief. She waa pot overcome by the grandeur of the Vicar- age, for that grave, gray old house, with its sumbre old TOMS, cool 111 eummer, and warm in winter, had been familiar to her in her childhood, when the Vicar catechised her on Sunday eveninge, with a class of Sunday -school children, in his library. She remembered the look of the pannelled and the old Oriental jars, the Vicar's fish- ing taokle, and the perfume of rose leaves and lavender, Deborah, the housekeeper, who was a very homely personage compar- ed with Mrs. Mumble at theAbbey, received her inetruotions from the Vicar and Bellied a out with with Madge to the village -shop, where all the indiapensables of this life were kept M stook, and ' here the two women sat for nearly an hour, choosing and boxing, Deborah keenly interested, Madge curiously indifferent, looking with incurious scorn upon the pure white calico and the neat prints whit% were being bought for her. ' "I aupr ose you can make your own gowns." said. Deborah, • rather snappishly, provoked at an indifference which implied ingratitude to the good Vicar. "I have never had anybody else to make 'em for me,' answered Madge. "That one you have got on fits pretty fair, though I 'don't like the style of it," said Deborah, eyeing the supple form from top to toe. "I wouldn't let one of our maids wear such a gown as that, and you'll have to dress different at the Park. And you will not be allowed to wear beads ronad your neck." "And yet they say service isn't elavery, retorted Madge, with a scornful laugh. Deborah spent a couple of sovereigns grudgiegly, knowing how many claims Mr. ROckstone had 1111011 his benevolence, and having very little sympathy with this un- graeious young woman. "You're to dome back to the Vicarage and have tea with ns," she said curtly, "and then John is to walk to the Abbey with you." John was the Viear's valet, butler, and general confidant and factotum. Be was known only as John, and seemed to have no occasion for any surname. The Vicar's John was known and respected all over the pansh. He was a tall, lean, sharp -nosed man, very chary of apeech, and never talk- ing except to the purpose. He was a great reader of newspapers, and a profcnutd politi- cian. Of books he knew none but the Bible, and that he knew better than five curates out of six. He had a way of talking about the patriarch; and the kings and heroes of Israel, as if they had been Peel and Broug- ham; or Bright and Gladstone, which was curious, and quite unconsciously irreverent. "1 don't want any tea," Madge answer- ed, ungraciously. "Oh, but you must want your tea; you must be almost sinking. What a queer girl you are. Come along now; let's get home as fast as we can. Martha will have got the ettle boiling, and John will be wantb'ag his 8- OEfikPTER (Cor/moo,) Don was browsing contentedly upon sons rank gram on the edge of the causeway, an had no more intention of gointe env. than he had been the origioal antedoluvian hors in a museum. The two men wont out together, an strolled along the causeway side by side. "OE OPUr80 you can gee what it is, can you, parson ?" began Dawley abruptly "No mistaking the signs in a gal." "You think she's in love," hazarded th vicar. centric she ist parson. Thetas th Way it allus beghts—sighird and sulkina au sleepless nights a thinkiug of him. Curs hint, whoever lie is ! He'll lure this on away like the other one was lured away, o a sudden, withont a word of warning to th pO0? old father. I dursen't leave the co tage, lest I should find it empty when come back, I habit sold a basket for fortnight. I'm here to guard her from th ament." "Who can it be," asked the Vioar with punted air. "Is there anyone in the vil- lage that she cares for ?" Lord no,. paraon. It ain't no one in th village—it ain't a working man, or a gentle Man's servant, or anyone of her own statio else it would be all fair and above -board and she wouldn't be afraid to tell her ol grandfather. It's eomebody whose lov mating ruin. Some lying, fine gentleman who'll speak her fair and tempt her to g away with him, and leave her to rot whe his fancy's over. I knows the breed." "Have you any reason to suspect inia chief?' "Too many reasons but I'll tell you one or two, and you can judge. It's just about six weeks ago that I noticed when I came home late at night that there was a smell ot 'buoy in the room yonder. Well, I'm a that I smelt, and it wasn't twelve hours old smoker myself, but this wasn't my 'Jamey, neither. It was a gentlenaan's 'beau ; as different from what I smoke as the cham- pagne you gentry drink is from the eider they sell up street. I know'd Morel been a stranger here when I smelt that 'buoy. I asked my gal if there'd been anyone corn to the cottage all day. She said No,' bu I could see she was lying. I noticed the same smell three nights running; and o the morning after the third night I foun another traoe of my enemy. There'd been rain the day before, but the wind shifted to wards evening and there VMS a sharp fres in the night; and when I went out onto th causeway there were my gentleman's foot prints, as if they'd been cut in a rock—th prints o gentleman's strong -soled shootin boots. .here's no miatakin' the cut of a fin gentleman's boot: it's as different from a poor man's clodhopper as a gentleman's 'bacoy is from mine. Somebody had been hanging about the cottage and talking with my gal." 'ati that alt? Did you never see the man hunaelf ?" "Never, he was too artful. I've scarcely been three days away from home since I saw the footprints in the causeway; but my gentleman has never shown up hereabouts, and my gal has moped all time." "Have you never questioned her since then?" "Now and again, carelesa, like—Had e there been anyone shooting the wild fowl, inybody going. past in a boat? and such tike. But I might as well expect to get ans- wers out of a atone. Not a word would she say to me, except she didn't know, she naeln't noticed—what reason was there for her to watch for people in boats ?" "Well, Dawley, we must be on our guard for her, poor child. She is too handsome to be exempt from danger and temptations. I don't think she ought to be left to live this solitary life any longer. Solitude encour- ages brooding. She wants change and oo- cupation—the sight of strange faces." How is she togetthem ?" asked Daw- ley despondingly.""She might go into service." Yt He mounted Don, and rode slowly home- ward aercess the open waste to the lane with its tall tangled hedges, bare now for the most part, save where the foliage lingered on the polls:ad mike, and the, beechwood showed cepper-colottred leaves that were to last till late into the coming year, when the young growth name to drive them away, Very slow WM the hotnewerd ride, for Don had exhausted all his freahnese ia the out- ward joueney, and only quickened his pace when he saw the old church tower and smelt the clover and hay in the vuorage stable, But M his astonishment the Vicar took him pitet thet famalier gate, and trot- ted him snorting with indignant protest, to the gates of rielfield Park. and along the avenue to the .Abbey, where tb.ere was some consolation, as a groom ewe out at the sound of hoofs:, and condePted the clerical steed to a loose box, while his master went into the house to see Lady Belfield. S110 was in her usual place in the inner- most drawing -room, a woman always ready to see her friends, and, give them cordial welcome • not ono of those women who have to be hunted for on the arrival of a visitor, and who are never fit to be seen except when they are en grande tome. Constance Belfield was sitting with a bookstand on one aide of her, and a eepeci- ous work basket on the other. She was A great worker as well as a great reader, and her needlework was the admiration of all her female friends, who went to her for ideas and inspiration m satin stitch, and copied her achievements with the needle at a reepectful dist:woes She gave her hand to the Vicar with a Emile, and he sea down in the luxurious chair at her side, and felt that life was worth living for. Ho told her the state of things at old Dawley's cottage, the young life wasting, the young, undisciplined heart pining for want of womanly care and eiympathy, and he had enlisted her feelings before his story was half finiahed. "You want change of scene for her, a brighter, busier life, a home where she will be taught and cared for," she said, when she had heard all. "Let her come here by all 0 t- b meana. My housekeeper is an excellent creature—but you know my good Mrs. Mor- n table as well as I do." d "1 have reason to know her. Yes, she s a heart of go ." s "Well, I will place this protegee of yours t under Mrs. Marrable's especial care, and I g will do all I can for her myself " You are always good, Lady Belfield. Yon have taught me to rely upon your good- ness. But 1 must warn you that this girl may be of very little 1280 112 your establish- ment. She is untaught and inexperienced." "1 don't expect her to be of use to me; I want to be of use to her. Bring her to me as soon as youlike, Vicar. "God bless you. I will bring her to you to -morrow, if I can." "And be ruined and broken-hearted be- fore she had left me six months. I know what servta,nt gals are, and how little care there is taken of 'em. She's not old enough or wise enough to be left to take care of herself. Send her out to service anywhere hereabouts, and the fine gentleman who left his footmarks on this causeway would soon lind out where she was, and be after her. She'd have her evenings out, belike, and he'd be waiting for her somewherea in the dusk. I know the world, parson. She don't, poor child; and kuowledge of the world ain't to be learn'b second hand. I might preach her sermons as long as my arm, but she'd never be warned by them." "There is service and service, Dawley. I know of houses in which the maids are as well looked after as nuns in a convent, n1 talk to a lady I know about your grand. daughter, and if I can intereat her—' "It will be hard to partwith her," said the old man, "but I can't keep watch over her always and sell my baskets ; and if I don't sell them we must starve. And she's gettin' to hate me for,being • so watch- ful of her, I can see thn it's a wicked world, parson." „It's a troublesome worIcl,,my,friend, and we must make the best of it for ourselves and each other. Man was born to trouble as the sparks fly, upward. Have you heard anything of lkladge's mother lately?" Not a word, parson. Ah, she was a bad lot, an out and out bad lot, with a heart as hard as the nethermost millstone." "You must not judge her, Dawley. She was brought up in darkness and ignorance. No one ever taught her her duty, "There's duties that don't need to be tau a The duty of loving your father and me sten That ought to come natural even toi savage." our daughter may have died years ago. "I don't think so, parson. I heard ot her six or seven years ago—not a word from her, mark yOu—but I heard from a man who had seen her in London—riding in her Car- riage—or in somebody's carriage—as bold as brass—as fine a lady as any in London, J00 Trounion said. t fe's a gispy hawker, sells brooms, and baskets, and such like, and travels all over the conntry. He saw ray gal, he did, not seven year agone, all among the gentle folks in London, dressed in silk and :satin, as brazen as you like, she that never came to look after her•ohild slime the little one was three year old." " Well,wehad best forget all about her, Dawley, till God puts better thoughts into her mind and brings her back to us. I'll see what can be gdone about Madge. She wouldn't atilt everybody, never having been ID service—but 1 think I know s lady who will help 1210." •thie or in any other einetgency," he said to himself, by way of postsetipt. CHAPTER VL —Bear To Loan HER. The Vicar rode Don aoross the marsh early next morning, a liberty which that sage animal felt inclined to resent, so rarely was he taken far afield two days running. But the Vidor VOA i00 intent upou humanity just now to spare horeefiesh. Old Dawley had gone to the market -town with a load of basket:it his exchequer having •k sunk to the lowest dire necessity f point, oro- ing.him to abandon his post as guardian of John was a person whose wants must' al- e, girl's heart and honor. ways be studied. He waited upon the Vicar Madge was alone, in the same moody at- with exemplary devotion, but he expected ti tude—with the same moody countenance which the Vicar had observed yesterday. She took but the slightest notice of his en- trance seercely stirred from her p/aoe by the wind° et, soarcely ceased from her con- templation of the marsh, only looked at him with a bored expression and muttered a sul- len good morning. "Madge,I have got you a place," he said plunging into the core of things without cir cumlooution. "What place ?" "A place in a lady's house, where you will be kindlytreated, and taugh to be use- ful. I am going to take you to a new and cheerful life, to a good home, clean rooms good wholesome food, and companions of your own " You mean that I'm to go into service " she said, with the same sullen air. "Folio have oft -times talked to me about that." "Yea, my dear girl, the life you are lead- ing here la altogether an unnatural life. It is high time you went out to tservice, and learnt to get your own living." The girl was silent for some snonaent% looking across the marsh with that dreamy air of hers; then she turned slowly and looked at the vicar, half in wonder, half in scorn, with large dark eyes that were capa- ble of looking unfathomable things. "Did my grandfather put that in your head 1" she asked. "No. Your grandfauher told me only that you were unhappy. It was I thought of the cure." • "A pretty cure 1" she cried contemptu- ously. "You think it will make me happy to scrub floors and pots and pans, or per- haps yon would send me out as a nursemaid to mind squalling babies. I would rather starve and have my freedom than be a w ell - fed slave." "There is no such thing as slavery in the house where I am going to take you. Lady Belfield is one of the kindest women I know. She will take you into her service as a favor to me, and she will have you treated kindly and taught to be umful, "Lady Belfield," cried Madge, jumping up and flushing to the roots of her hoer, "Lady Belfield will take me into her ser- vic°'.; ies, Madge, and wilt interest herself in your welfare. • She has heard of your dismel life here, and she has promised to do all ia her power to make you happy. You won't refuse such a service as that, will you ?" "No," answered the girl, after a long pose, "1 won't refuse. I ought to be very grateful, I suppose. It's a fine thing for dirt like me to be let into such a house as that." "]t will be the making of you, Madge," anewered the Vicar gravely, And I hope you ateept the aituation in a right spirit, and will try to do your duty to that excel- lent lady.' The gift vouchsafed hint no assurance as to her intention upon this point. "When am I to go ?" ho asked sun leely, "At once—to-day." "1 have hardly any clothes but those on my back." 44 My housekeeper shall get you :some more clothes. Yon can come to the Vicerage AS fast as you can, and Deborah shall buy you what you want, to begin with, in the that the women folk should wait upon him. In the kitchen and servants' premises he was first in importance, and all gave way. hefore him. The Vicarage kitchen looked vory cheery in the winter afternoon, with a bright red fire burning in an old-fashioned open grate, and the hearth spotless, and the fender Min- ing like silver. The Vicar dined at eight, so this afternoon hour was &period of leisure and repose. The large oak table at which Deborah did her cooking was pushed On one side, and a snug round table covered with a snow.white cloth stood infront of the fire-plaoe. Martha, the house and pastor maid, a rosy cheeked buxom lass, prepared everything except the actual making of the tea, a sacred office in which Deborah al- lowed no interference with her privileges. The tea tray was spread, and there was a dish of hot -buttered cakes frizzling on the hearth, by whioh sat the Vioar's John in a dignified attitude reading the Standard. (TO BE O01IT/2417ED.) Discipline and Death. Many desertions continue M take place from the French army in Tonkin. All the deserters who are recaptured are shot with- out compunction. Lately eighteen soldiers of the Foreign Legion ran away from Sonthay with a lot of arms and accoutrements. They were caught in the mountain defiles after a Chase which lasted a considerable time and the eighteen were condemned to be shot at once. • It is said that when the men were drawn up in single file in front of their graves the adjutant, who was in charge of the firing party cried out with an oath, on seeing some of the doomed men fall slightly out of their alightment, "Can't you fellows keep your dressing bettor than that? Eyes right ! Dress 1" No sooner was the com- mand given than the prisoners With parade - like punctuality straightened themselvea up and obeyed as if they were on the drill ground or at a review. Then the fatal corn - mend was given, and the eighteen went down before the terrible volley. The adju- tant's wqrds—if they were ever uttered, and it isprobable they were --show thee an iron discipline still prevaile in the French Foreign, Legion. Progrees under Difficulties. Dakota Immigration Commitaioner— Say my friend, you are interested in the future prosperity of Dakota, ain't you? Dakota Citizen—In what way? "You would like to see population pour in upon us by the million, wouldn't you? Of comae you would. Well sir, we have ! had sixteen tons of pamphlets printed, show- ing the rnarvellouti agricultural, horticul- finial and floricultural resources of this wonderful section and calling upon farmers everywhere to sell out and come to this garden of the gods. But we need a little , heir: to get these beautifully written treat- ises 'hetore the public," "Oh 1 Want Money for postage, eh ?" "o, we've got that fixed. But the train which is to beer them to the outer world has got stack half a mile from the :station, and we want yeti te shoulder a :shovel and help dig it out of the enow."-110maha World. • IlEALTE. A Lon; Isiot efltemedieefor gleepleserteatt. It will. he interesting to collect the manY remedies oKt, have been suggeeted for sleep, lessuess. hut shower -hath at bedtime 'eleenses the altia mid predieposie to tleeP: it is claimed. The "cue sure and :tate Way" is to tulle e brisk weak 'of a mile or tWe before going to be& and there after the aoldleg the head :leder a ttreten of cold teeter. Thie, newever, should be done when ttie habit of sleePhestleaa tint buflitta. A butineee man with a mechanical tufa cf mind should lit up hie atticaa a cerpenterds sliop; and spen:I an hour therein slier sup - is per, A walk of two or three miles a day sufficient, gaps one writer, while anothe maintains thee nothing will do but horse book ridings. Again, relief tor sleepleasnesa Ca/1 be found by wetting a linen kerchief, folding it and pleasing it under the back of the neck, with a' dry cloth under the ker. chief to protect the pillow. Still again werm the feet by friction, extra wrappers, dm., and °col the head., either in a draught, or with cold water or me. One :sufferer has, palliated the distress of his vigils by leaving. hia bed, lighting a fire and sitting in a chimney' corner, reading and eating by turns, until the demon intimated a desire to depart. A phyrsician writes that the evening ahold be a Period of relaxation and recreation, relief from care and anxiety Ns be found in cheerful converse, - tion, pleasant games and light reading, while persons ot sedentary ocempation are to take plenty.of open-air exercise: A feeble circulation m to be overcome, and cold feet are to be warmed. The stomach is to be attended to if the digettion is not good. If it is overloaded, easy and refrealtiug sleep is impossible. Weakly persons and int valida often find a cup of hot broth or gruel, or some other light and easily digeetible food taken on retiring to be the beat pro- motive of sleep. The bed should neither be too hard nor too Boit, nor • the clothing too abundant nor too scanty. All un- pleasant sights, sounds, and melts should be excluded and early hours of retiring are essential. No viatim of insomnia can with safety burn the midnight oil or engage in evening diattp.ation. The man who observes these precaunons and adds thereto a dear conscience and e. sound mind has the prom. - Ise of unfailing Bleep. A student, troubled with insomnia dis- carded his feather pillow for one of hair with wonderful effect. •The hair pillow does not get warmed up to an uncomfort able degree, because it rapidly conducts away the heat impartea to it by the head. The mote person found that sleep could be brought on by simply warming the body espeoially the feet, or by taking a walk, or by a cold shower or sponge batn, followed by rubbing with a coarse towel. Getting out of bed for a few minutes when the air was cool often broughz relief. He had lain awake halt the night, and then, after being up long enough to ma and drink a lemon ade, had fallen asleep at once on going to bed. This student found that a light lunch just before going to bed relieved hia brain by drawing Me blood to his stomach. Another victim of sleeplessness found that a continuous low noise favoured sleep. The sound ot water dropping on a proa has been prescribed by a pb.ysician. The ex- plana,tion seems to be that a. simple monotou ous impression quiets the hrain by occupy- ing% to the exclusion of more varied and interesting, and therefore stimulating, im pressiona. On the same principle • are the devices of °minting backward or forward imagining sheep jamping one by one through a gate, but they are open to the objec tion of eausing one portion of the brain to be exerted in order to control the rest o it. Aman who has "struck upon the right plan et teat," and who opens up to the world something that is calculated to make man- kind rejoice and do away with all lirowsi- nese, serttes that all you have to do is to imagin yourself going on a long journey. Think over the details of it everynight when aslnedephaplapgys.. The plan made him healthy A physician has one simple remedy, which requires no medicine. Compose the mind as much as possible, and confine the thoughts to one subject, or a number, or individual, and close the eyelids rolling the eyes con- tinuously in one direction. In a short time :tenaciousness will be lost, and you will be in the blissful land of dreams. After an experience of two years, aiaother man found that he was always able to go to sleep very :shortly after retiring to rest by keeping his eyes looking down; he found that they turned up when he was sleepless and was cogitating something that kept him awake. An editor finds relief by wetting a cloth with cold water and bindhag it across his forehead. Another plan is to draw in a long, slow breath by the mouth and to force the breath out through the nose, imagining that the currents can be seen. .An attenapt may also be made teemed au amusing novel in bed or report a familiar poem, but all study or serious reading should be stopped half an hour before going to bed. In a pa- per read by b Physician before the Boston Sopiety for Medical Improvement, he said that sleeplessness is often caused by Star- vation, and that a tumbler of milk, if drunk in the middle of the night, will often put opfeotphleeirtpouslrepeopse.when bypnotics would tail • l'inCer Naile and Disease. Tn..* metione it prevents the breeldog cf the nail and alto the accemulation 0 much foreign obetence. The oornere Mold not be very closely cut, or the troublessome con- ditton knoysu us an ingrown nail MaY be Produced. To prevept the breaking of the akin near the root of the eail (commonly ealled " hang -nail' a the ekin should. be pressed, not scraped, by a dull instrument back from the noel at leaat once a week. Engliali Love of the Tulle ,A. recent incident shows how uniyersal and earnest ie the ietereat • a/hien the Bil- lion peopie take in netional !sports, end eto peoially in horse -racing. The Earl of Durham made a epeeell before - a :sporting oeiety called the " Gimcrack Club," in which he raade chargee, directed against bonne one whom he did not name, of haeotrisengs.dishonestly in the racing* of one of hie, The Marge, practieally, was that this per- son, while running one of his own horses in a race, bet on other horse e in the :same race, and took means to prevent his own home from winniug. A weil-kuown "sporting bar- onet, Sir George Chetwyad, guessed, cor- rectly, as afterwards appeared, that he was the person aimed at, and yery foolishly be- gan a controversy with Lord Durham, in which he has slot ishown hinaaelf to great ad- vantage. The general interest taken in horse -racing Is Mown bY the fa ea that Lord Durham's charges were excitedly diecussed throughout England, and that the principal pipers de- voted to it a number of long Mating arti- cles, as they would to a great parhameotary debate, or to a serious crime m European affeirb. One of the weighty matters thus discussed was whether the investigation as bo the truth of Lord Durham's accusations should be made by a court of law, or by the etewards ot the famous "Jockey Club." The Jockey Club is composed of noblemen and gentlemen of rank and wealth, and con - Mole all the great national races, which take place, at various seasons, a Epsom, Don- caster, Chester, Newmarket, and other rac- ing centres. ' • • It licensee the jockeys who ride the horses, lays down the rules under which the races are won, investigates alleged ants of diahonesty and corruption on the port of owners and jockeys and sees to it that the races are run under proper conditions. Al- ready, as a result of the coatroversy refer- red to, the Mumma of two jockeys have been - taken away, and these two men cannot ride horses in any race ie England until their 2 called its "stewards." They constitute 1 licenses are restored. The chief officers of the Jockey Club are both an executive committee, and a sort of court to try offences against ita rules, and veress.tionable sots on the turf of its mem- These stewards are three in number, and are always men of high social rank, as well - as expel -mime in racing, and general good character and judgment. Of the preaent stovrards, Lord Hastings is a peer, Mr. James Lowther is a relative of the Earl of Lonsdale and a member of Lord Beacons- field's ministry, and Mr. Fitzwilliam is the , son of Earl Fitzwilliam. So national, indeed, is this custom, that both Houses of Parliament always adjourn - over Derby Day. In recent years, the evil influence of the turf has induced some mem- bers to try to stop this adjournment of Par- - liament for suoh a purpose. • But they. have always been out -voted by a large ma3ority, , even such statesmen as Gladstone and Bright yielding t� the custom. - One consideration that makes the care of the nails of high importance, is the fact that every person who 'Mors with the hands is liable to gather, under their free margin, matter, which may be very poisonous. Many cases have occurred in which slight scratches of the skin by means of the finger- nails have resulted in malignant, and even fatal, inflammations. If, ' from any cause the nail becomes Mick i and nelastic, it soonbecomes rough, and as- sumes the appearance of an excrescence rather than an ornament. In this condition it is much more difficult to keep clean. To avoid this the hand should not be :subjected to the action of strong alkalies, such as quicklime, etc. ; neither should foreign sub- stances be removed from the surface by serving, as this will utuelly cause the nail to thicken. To cleanse the surface and the margin ad- joining the skin, a soft nail -brush, mild soap, mid soft water should he applied once eaah day, while the foreign inflater acciteaut lated under the margin should be removed as often as the hands are washed, with the use of e hard wood or ivory nail cleaner, • This being done while the nail is wet, one movement will generally be sufficient to remove the subatomic completely. A knife -blade is objectionable for this putpose beoatuse it scratches or toughens the nail surface. The paring should also be done while the nail 10 soft from washing, with an instru- ment which will Make a perfectly smooth edges and Sufficiently often to litalit the breadth of the free margin to about one - twelfth of an inch. This breadth is best, especiallyin the case of peroes who have to rotzgh work with the hand% for two Ho• rse-racing even under the best condi- tions and strioteat regulations does a great deal of harm, especially to young mem It gives rise to numerous temptations to cheat, which are too readily yielded to ; it fosters reckless gambling, which is not frowned on even by reputable people; it tends to throw young men into coarse and corrupting com- panionships, and causes the ruin of many - who might otherwise be useful members of society. A Locomotive Lost in the Quicksand. "In the construction of the Kansas Paoi- fio and Atchison'Topeka and Santa Fe Railroads," said IL L. Carter, a railroad contractor of St. Joseph, the other day," one difficulty of frequent occurrence was met with, which, as far as my experience goes, is unique in railroad history. I refer to the trouble arising from quicksande. From western Kansas to the mountains quicksands are to be found in nearly every stream, no 'natter how small, and to successfully bridge them required an expenditure out of all proportion to the size of stream to be crossed. We tried pile driving, but the longest piles disappeared without touching bottom. Then filling with earth and stone was attempted, and met with equally poor success, as the quicksand was apparently capable of swal- lowing the entire Rocky Mountains. The only raeaus of crossing a quicksand was found to build Bhort trues bridges across them. This was very expensive, but was the only thing to be done. " As an instance of the practically bottom- less nature of the quicksands, I may cite the case of an engine that ran off the track at River Bend, about ninety miles from Denver, on the Kansaa Pacific. The engine, a large freight, fell into a quicksand, and in twenty minutes had entirely disappeared. Within two days the company sent out a a gang of men and a wrecking. train to raise the engine. To their surpruie they could not find a trace of it. Careful search was made, magnified rods were sunk to the depth of sixty-five feet, 1 ut no engine could be found. It had sunk beyond human ken, and from that day to this hes never been discovered. Cattle and horses are frequent- ly lost, the only animal that is safe being o mule—the only auimal that never gets caught. Nogreateriastanceoftheintelligence of this ranch -maligned quadruped can be cited than the skill and care with which it avoids all unsound bottom. As its hoofs are much smaller and narrower than those of a horse it would mire in places where horse could safely :pass. Recognizing this fact, whenever a mule feels the ground giv• hag way under itss feet it draws hack and cannob be induced to advance a step, al- though a whole drove of horses may have iniraedia,tely preced.ed." • His Recommendation. Jones --Hello Bill 1 I hoar you have a position seith my friends, Skinner Et Co. 13111-0h, yes; I have a position as col- lector there. Jones—That's:firet rate. 'Who recommend- ed you? Bill—Oh, nobody, I told themthat I once collected a bill ftom you, and they inetantly gave me the place. • Skillttlly Evaded. She (eingle, of course): Even the birds seem to be happier running in couplea. He (a bachelor, suddenly rememberitg 1.1 is leap year): Yes, Mies, but they are geese, and knots, no hatter. Tile Point of View. A great lot of every person's time is de- voted M making faces et other persome The leatnitigeted reepect of no one man is ever given, very long, to any ether men, No mon ever thinklf himself seem:m-11ot even when for polioyat smite he admite him- self to be in error,. It is sawayo the other fellow who really is mistahen. When two or more persons are agreed, ona given point, they Werraly applaud ea.oh etherts wisdom, tthen thy disagree, they feel contennet for each ether, even if they doo't eapresa it. pig-headeduese or orankisra marks every man whose tenets differ from ours. 110010Zy mon ouffe up his nose at the :scientist, and the scientiat teolta wita disgust on the society man, Each regards the employment and diver- siciaa of the other as a waste of time. Vrdra. the social point of view, the scion - tit is a dry, musty old fogy ; and from the latter's point of view, the society ma.n is a buttermilky, rattle-pated ass. Both are eight, and both are wrong. This may sound paradoxical, but it is not, . Everything depends on the point of view, and it runs all through life in every direc- tion. All earth is either a heaven or a fool's paradise—just as you happen to 'look at it. , • The daw likes his own voice better then that of a nightingale, and the donkey can't understand why his outlines should be less admired than those of a blooded horse. Several oritict attend a play, and nO two of them agree on its merits. A book is published by a famous author, and some people call it good, and some call it bad. . Women of taste differ on questions of dress and deportment. One person prefers beer to coffee, and another cheese to oranges. It is wholly a matter of where you sit, as to whether you see most of the heads or the heels qf a ballet. Nothing is judged according to definite i standard. There s no system of reasoning by which M reach just conclusion's. The giddy, foolish old world, plethoric enough of some things, is badly barren of others, and ohief among these is the lack of appre- ciation of ethics. Now, all things are matters of personal warp and bias—ell points of view. If a man has corns, he thinks they are aw- ful things' and if he hasn't he laughs at the Ines whichothers make about them. The tramp thinks that vast riches should. ID legislated against; and the millionaire thinks that the laborer has as much as he eserves The reformer howls against the abuse of power, until he has power to abuse; and the preacher moralizes against yielding to temptation, until somebody tempts him. Man owes his narrowness to being more familiar with the contents of his own hide than he is with the individuality of others' and to thinking that because he is himself, he must, necessarily, be nearer right than those who differ from him. • All men are either fools or philosophers' just as you please; and all life is filled with wisdom and goodness, or evil and lunacy, just as you have a mind. to accept it. There is no way of getting at any of it definitely, for there are no balances to weigh it in, and no standards of raeasurement. There is nothing, anywhere, but the point • of view. BEGAJWING H.EARTS. Which ColicinsivelY Proves WhY Man Gen* amity Proposes to Women. A German doctor has lately been making some investigations as to the size of men's and women's hearts. He found that there is a difference in favor of the man, the mas- culine heart weighing more and being larger than that possessed by the fairer half of creation. A heart, it would appear, mows moat during the first and second years of life, and between the second and seventh year it has again almost doubled. In the fiftieth year, and until a half century of birthdays have been kept, the heart grows a little, Summer after Summer. At 50, however, the growth hoe stopped, the only change from now to the close of life being a slight diminution. In childhood the male and femelehearts are the same dee, but after manhood, the mas- culine heart develops much more than the female, and the former euds with being two square Inches larger than the latter. If, as the poet says, the centre of the affections lies in the heart, the reason for man always proposing to woman and becoming the affec- tionate bread -winner, the thoughtful hus- band, and the loving houseband, as the meaning of the word really is, ;emight be found in the region of his heart. His Generosity Explained. They tell down East ot a poor fellow who owned a remarkably fat hog, and who also owed a rich man. The hcg was about the only property the poor debtor had worth levying on, and the law exempted a man's only pig. One day the creditor meeting the debtor said :—"You need another pig. Let me send you a nice little one." The poor man was astonished. "Why, I owe you for the hog I've got now," he stammered. "Never mind, you need another one and I'll send it," and he did, and the little pig was put in the pen by the side of the fat' one. In less than an hour tho constable mune and attached the fat hog and took it away, and thus the law and the rich man wore satisfied. --Philadelphia Bulletin. He Knew What He Was Talking About. One stormy night about four months ago a little girl came into a family up town where there was already a boy three or four years old. One bad evening this.week the father and mother were going out and the boy wanted to go along and take the belay. To Mite' the mother objected strenuously, and for a final moment Me said: "But, my son, don't you know we can't take little sister out such a stormy night as this 1" Well, I don't care," he replied. "Ib was a good deal stormier than this the night she come here." Napoleon 111. 's Mausoleum. The Empress Eugenie hat expended £100- 000 me the maciaolenin at Farneborough. The buildieg is constructed of Bath end Portland stone, in the Feench Renai8satoe style, and 10 18 surmounted by a bronze cup- ola, which is a conspiouons objeot for milee aroma& The altar, a highly create piece of work, is of Caen marble'and the flooring is of red and white Corsicaa marble. Theta is a white marble altar in the crypt where the two cons are deposited, above which is -a • arge a ver cruel x.