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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Times, 1902-2-6, Page 78 C Fatal ower T.flE DESTRUCTION OF A, PROUD SPIRIT. saOSSaeSSefpoeceeo o 0.0(900010000(500414100).00040efje($0 Lord BOXIald. Lisle, the last barOil aseseeasseeseeekaelneetaeleatga*e*O bright, handsome boys, end then his well ever to take to sneoild wife, FOR FARM RS wife died, He loved her rinenory too From the time of hertdeatie be de - h married, young. ITO had two sons, e. -i" votedanself to his children. a 6 was a proud, fastidious man—proud ees to excess ot his name ad lineage IV honestly believing the Lielee second to none, The bare 'idea of =Sal e Race was hateful to hiro. Poor re - 0 lotions" he oneidered cam of the greatest afflictions that could befall. ails' family. When his sister married Lionel VSyverne, the younger son. o a plea baronet, his ager knew no bounds. Lionel Wervern.e, whose for- tune only consisted. in a handsome, aristocratic face and two hundred per annum, struggled for a few Years with poverty and a delicate wife. He died then, tired of the world and its coldness. Lord Lisle haS no re- course save to fetch. his sister and her order child, Arthur, to Lisle Court. Ile adopted his nephew, treating him ever,V nesneet as one of his own children. He educated him with hi t sons, and when his college career ended, purchased for him a commission in "crack" regi- ment. When Captain. Arthur Wy- verne came to his uncle ancl told him he had fallen in love with an+ want- ed to marry a pretty penniless gov- erness, Lord Lisle laughed in. con- temptuous anger. "'Not only," he said, "will I refuse to see you again, and 'withdraw from you all couetenance and support, but your mother, too, must suffer for you. If you Persist in this absurd folly, sho must leave Lisle Court, and you know what suffering that would inflict upon her, Let me hear no more about it, Arthur ; boyish fancies aro soon forgotten." Captain W3rverne paused then. For himself, he could have endured any- thing ; but the thatig•ht of his deli- cate mother, sent adrift from the home she valued so 11).12011, whene every luxury was at her command, quelled him. He said no more to Lord Lisle. After some weeks of anxious debate, he compromised tho matter by a private marriage, as already de- tailed. One brief year, as the reader is azvare, and then a dark cloud fell over the happy home. Captoin. Wye verne's regiment was ordereS to India, and neither wife nor child was strong eeough to accompany. him. Then came his illness, and his ur- gent request that his veife would join him in far -far India. How anxiously he awaited. her arrival may be well imagined, But, instead, there came to him, on his sick -bed, the fatal tiding ; the vessel was lost, and all on. board had perished with her. For many long weeks Captain. Wy- vane forgot his sorrow in insensi- bility. When health and reason re- turned, his Arst thought was of hie child—Margaret's child. What had become of her ? •The little one had evidently been left behind, for there was no mention of her in the passen- gers' list. With whom had she been left ? How should hotfind. her. Dur- ing the lo -ng, weary honrs of con- valescence the young officer lay pon- dering these questions. Surely, in England, there must be some clew. Seine one there must know the whereabouts of Margaret's child. Ho wrote to Mrs. Markham, in whose house his wife had lodged, but the letter was never answered. Ho could. not recover ; his mind and heart were both teetered. At length he succeeded in obtaining a few months" leave of absence, and re- turned home. His moth'er, when she gazed upon his face, did not know her son. The white, - haggard features and dim, saddened eyes told of more than physical suffering. Once more in England, he Com- menced elife-long search for his lost child. How could he best find out to whom. Margaret had intrusted her a On the first day of his return, he went to the house where she had lodged. Then he found out that Mrs. Markham had gone to America; but no ono could tell him where, or to what part of that vast country. One of the neighbors, who remembered tho lady and the child, told him they beth left -the house a Week before Mrs. Markham went away ; so • that, evidently, tho child had not been loft with her. By dint pf great expense and trouble in a,dvertising, the cab- man was found who, had driven the lady and the- little one to the sta- tion. Ho remembered every detail, but he could not say where she was going, he had not remarked the di- rections upon the box. It seemed to Captain Wyverne that every trace of little Margaret was lost. (To De Continued). rit• esnattshCfroili:"Bd tiPsYr'°Tfigebri se ;I e sitEnt*•""*'04Koe'frti's•Wes•***0411-4en*°S0 ISOW TO GET WINTER EGGS., A lazy fowl is an unprofitable one, so by ail means diseourage laziness f in them. Very often strenuous means, must be employed to break tliein of the habit of setting around humped up. The often advised morn- ing mash is to my mind the worst thing that a hen can fill berself up on, for it at once puts her into a condition that will take hours of her valuable time to undo. What she needs is a good waking up, and no- thing is better than a vigorous scratch of an hour or so among a pile of leaves, or straw. Of course the grain should be placed there in liberal quantities., for we caunot ex- pect her to shell otit the eggs on a wind diet exclusively. Some advise a noon meal, but I think two meals e,acctsutsgli for them, writ.es Mr. P. 11. l During the short winter menthe the evening meal should be given at an hour "early enough to allow them to finish and getante the roost be- fore dark, and you know dark comes early in winter. I find cut Clover, or cloveit' meal, fed warm, at night is relished, and should ao mixed half and half with equal parts bran and shorts. Over this pour aoiling water and stir until well mixed. It may then be fed in wooden troughs. Pro- vide at this hour slightly warmed water, seeing that all water 'vessels are emptied as soon as they have finished, for nothing is more annoy- ing than to be obliged to dig the ice out of the water vessels) ON A COLD MORNING.. e at- SatNiapses OF PRECEDING If Ralph. AshAtot could have fore - CHAPTERS, --Margaret Howard, on seen how and Where he would lied the eve of departure tojoin her se- her he would have died before the aretly, married husband, leaves -her blow came. To the last hour of his ehUU witis Simon Rivers anis life he reineMbered every detail of drowned at seek. Susan tease the that scene—tile - distant chiming of thin', Daisy, as ace- own, and. diesthe waver, the' musical voice. that 'Her daughter, Margarea, %Ione knows whispered false words, the magical Daisy?* secret - charms of the girl he loved, the fragt ranee of the roses-, and the mellow evening light. CHAPTER VI The .gloaming passed, aua the gray )"„11 secret?" said.Daisy, raising her tints of night grew deeper. cleer, truthful oyes to Rita's face. "Let me sit with you one hour PI did not think vre had one- in oia• longer, Rita," pleaded Ralph, and home . she asked hiin into the cottage, "It is a secret," continued the "You must give me a keepsake," elder girl, "that the world would he said, when Mrs. Forne plainly never suspect, I, the one concerned, hinted that it was growing late ; never creamed of it, Daisy, can you "anything that you have touched • believe that 1' was not lVirs. Rivers" and cared for yourself." OW11 child ?""Grive him something that will do "Not our own mOther's child ?", him good," said the ' old woman. lYaid Daisy, incredulously. "It is "He is a young man, and he is go- finpoSeible—it cannot be true !" Ing down into the deep seas. 31 will "It, is a fact," said Rita. "The do him no harm, to remember who night before my poor nurse died she keeps him safe in the midst of clan - sent every one away' from the room- gers." and told me the story." Ralph smiled at the words, but elm "Who are you, then ?" cried Daisy, continued, earnestly : "Why, Rita, I cannot believe it 1 "You have two Bibles, Rita. One, You must be my own sister—you are there, your poor mother used every dreeseing V: day. There is another lying on the "hay, it is no dream," said Rita. shelf, there. Give him that." "See, here are the proofs. Yet 1 Rita silently took the book from shall always be your sister and love the upper shelf, where it had lain for you very much. I shall always do many long years, and placed it in see, my best for you." . Ralph's hand. S' The faint inflectionof patronage in "Read it when you are on the • the rielo musical tones was not, lost seas,, she said, gssasly. upon . Daisy. Somethiag like pain He took it from her without a flitted over her features and shadow- word of comment. She was all un - ed her tender eyes. conscious that at Deepdale "Tell ino all about it, Rita," she Rivers had placed little Daisy's pa - said, imploringly. "How can it be? trait and her mother's last letter Why, my mother always seemed to there—the letter which spoke of the Love you bettenthan me 1" golden curie, and directed "No," said Rita,' ,in alarm,. "that again that she should be called Daisy ; all -unconscious that between the leaves lay the portrait of a fair, graceful child, while underneath it, in her mother's own handwriting, were the two words, "Daisy How- ard." In the strongest armor there is generally one weak point. Rita had made' good her story, serenely 'un- conscious of the only piece of eyi-- , deuce that „could ever betray her, could not be. Did it never strike you how much more anxious she seemed over your education than over mine ? There is little to tell ; the story is a, very simple one. Your mother, when quite a young girl, was my mother's nurse. It seems) that my mother's parents wore (ince very rich people, but lost all they had. Her father died, and she her - sell. after receiving an excellent training, went out as goveraess. The and that evidenae she had placed Th. place where she went was called Mast Hall, I believe. While there some gentleman fell in 'eve with her and married her, But, Daisy, the marriage was a secret one. He was brought up by rich, aristocratic re - rations, who me:mid not hear of such a thing ; so he married my mother, Margaret Arlo, unknown to every "But who was he ?" interrepted Daisy. I would that I could tell you 1" was tho calin reply. "My mother trusted yours, but she never told her that. All she said of oav the hands of the man she intended to dupe and elude. • Ralph thought little of' the gift., He would have preferred theteribboe She wore in her hair, Or the flower that she carried in her hands. • He took the book home with hirn 'sad laid it in his eeciethest. He was many miles awaysfroin' old- England when he saw it again, and found what it contained. • Even that vain, ambitious „ heart was touched with his ,sorrow when the time came for him to leave her. -Ho clasped her in his arms and kiss- ed the face thee lured him on to ruin father was that he was an officer in and death. Tears dimmed the eyes the arnay. She called him "Captain that had seldom - wept before. For Arthur.' 'Captain Arthur went to long hour's after he had quitted her ladle., leaving my mother in Eng - land. But he had a serious illness there ; he sent, imploring my mother to go out to him.e My poor mOther, therefore, resolved to leave me be- hind in her old nurse's care. She took MO to Deepdale, our old horee., and left me in your mother's charge." "How strange 1" said Daisy ; "it Two days afterwards Daisy came ..sc seems like a romance or a, fairy ihoino w th strange intelligence. Ono tale." of the pupils at Miss Toffies' aca- • "The strangest part has to come," domy—the daughter and heiress of •continued Rita. "My mother went in a ship called the Ocean Queep. ; . it was lost at sea ; and frcim the day ' left me until the present time no word has ever been heard of or from, any friend or relation --,no one seems to be aware of ray existence. my father heanever written—has 'never claimed:n..16 ; eith.er, Se is dead or he does not know where I am. I shall never believe that he has left me hero and willfully nbandoned,nee. Your mother told me all „this on the ' night she 'died ; she gave me , the locket, the ring, and the letters. How strange it is, Daisy 1 I do not even know my own name. My moth- er called herself 'Howard,' I shall • take that name: I am 'Margaret Howard' ; but I never mean, to rest until I have found my father or his relations." "Then we. shall be parted ?" said Daisy, sadly. "That deem not follow. When I find noble and wealthy relations I shall not forget you, Daisy:" Daisy, returned on the morning fol- lowing to school. Rita remained at the cottage with old Mrs. Perna Sim had decided upon certain plans, but did not in.tend to carry them out until Ralph Ashton had loft the country. • He Was the one dark spot in the bright future. Already she had thrown ces. her allegiciace-to him in her own rainci ; she had freed ••her- self from. a, proneise that, with her „411),,r prospeets, Was •simply hateful to . a Not one word clid she say to Ralph Ashten of the story told by Mre. Rivers, or of her own version of It, When he returned in three years' time he Would hear that she Sad left Rooks' Nast, and she did riot Weed mean him to trace her: She believed ho Would forget her. or give up airl pursuit of her as tope - ass, Even shoeld he discover her, ehe thought the change in her posi- tion would. awe him and convince him of the impassable barrier be- tween them. That evening he 'came to say good-bye in the gloaming, qz three years 1" Ralph said. Pita hove shall 1 live through theni ? There will' be no one moment I shall not think of you and long for the souial of your yoke Or one glimpse of your face. In three ;rare I ,shall nod you,' When, the IOW - ere are bloeming just as theleloorn ROW, and no aun will be Se bright to tee as the sante 'yeti Wekome toe With w11ef 1entile to clean you," bus warm kisses seemed to burn her lips and brows. She was touched at kris sorrow, .wondered at the depth of his love, but never dreamed of being true to him. When his tall figure disappeared Clown tho high- road she felt released, as had faded from her life, she thought, and wobled trouble her no more. .. John Denham, of Landsmere—was going 'abroad, and nothing. would eatisfy her but taking with her, as companion, the fair, gentle girl who every ono loved. „Mrs..Denham came over to Queen's Lynne, and urgently pressed Daisy to accede to her daughter's wish. Daisy. hacl no oli- jectien..'. her only difflcialty was in leaving Rita. Far from opposing the plan, Rita thought it tbe best event that could have ha.pponeci. Daisy at home might, have been in her way, but Daisy abroad could not interfere with her arrangements. By all means let her go. "It would be folly to remain here Lor my sake," Kaki. Rita.' '"1 - shall not be here long myself. In a few inore weeks I intend to take scene active stops for discovering my fath- er's name and whereabouts. 11 I find Win this will be no home for Daisy- was happy. The Denheans intended remaining on the Continent for three years, and during that time she was to be the friend and com- panion of their only child. The June roses were blooming when Ralph Ashton had farewell to the girl he loved so deeply and so dearly. She began then to arrange her plans, but befoee the roses had faded fate had taken the threads into her own hand. There Was no need for the beautiful, ambitious girl to eche= and' arrerige ; the father whom she intended to seek was seek- ing her, and the tragedy of hen- life began. CHAPTER VI, The Lisles, of Lisle Court, stOod foremost in the ranks. of English no- bility. Far back, in 'the reign of Stephen, ono /maid their name in the annals of history, The doomed rate of the Royat Stuarts had no truer friends than the Lieles, of Lisle Coert. Ple bed -chamber where 'Towne ,Prince Charlie' slept 3:g - amine ueteuched, When the last Stuart ceCteed ti) reign their interest in publie life seemed to end. Lord Archibald Lisle, during the reign of George the Sedoncl, gave up his seat in Parliamett, and devoted himself to the care of his estate. In all Enge land there stands no fairer doniain than Lisle Court. It lies in the fere tile inidlaial counties—in the (Inlet, green heart of the lad, HEIRLOOM IN THE FAMILY. The person who is inclined to boast of his valuable possessions is likely to have tbe laugh turned .,upon -him on occa.eions, A. wealthy man was once proudly exhibiting to some ac- quaintances a table which he hid bought, and whichhe said- was five hundred years elci. "That is nothing„j' said one of the company. "I have in any Pos- session a, table which. is More than three thotteand yeas old." "Three thottsand years old," said his host. "That.' is impossible! Where was it made?" "Prebably in India." „ "In India! 'What kind of a. letble le it?" , The multiplication 'table!" linsband—"Ilreil, she Sa.d on orio of those dresses Made of what -you -call - 11 au% of a, kind of a Mixed shade, and trimmed with whalle-his-nalues. I don't remember now whethee it, was cut bow or not, or whether it had sleeves, but Is hhOW it had one or the other, Hei nr was done up the style lige you see i11 pictures— you knoW What I mean, I don't know whether she had ahy ornaments or not, but I expect ehe had. That's about, all, I think, that 1 ioticocL about her, Mit . you can easily tell from that how She leaked," Cut bone is an ideal diet for lay- ing hens, and while it requires som labor to produce it, still it is tan well spent. At from $6 to 510 you can possess a good modern bon cutter and every poultry raiser who keeps even two or three dozeti bens will find such a machine nearly pail for at the end of the year in the extra egg crop. , I do not consider it necessary to discuss -the breed to keep for winter, for it matters but little in regard to the color. If you possess a flock of chickens that aro giving good re- turns, stick to them till they go back on you, improving them each year by selecting the best layers, and most uniform eolored ones, for after all we are apt to favor a, flock that Look as much alike as two peas, and take more pride in them. The nests should be nice and roomy, and pro- vide plenty of material that will permit of consiclerable fixing, ior a hen is touthy on the nett question, She likes to build her own. A pile of gravel in easy reach is always ac- ceptable, and thd hens Will pay a, visit to it ninny times during a day. 11 your hens are laying nicely, and the supply of eggs begins to increase you, will soon be thinking of setting them. Broody hens are scarce these times, so in order to tuake sure of early chicks we must make other ar- rangements and procure an incuba- tor, PRELIMINARIES TO THE CORONATION. WORKING FOR USIIE CORONATION TN CANADA: HUDSON BAY COM- . PANY'S TRAPPERS PREPARING ERMINE AND MIN- ' IVER. PELTS. 11.6•11.100.1. o ing except the labor of sowing th seed. Wo don't think the' crop o corn was damaged much, as w gathered close to 800 bushels of ear from an eight -acre field, which is - fair crop for this section. Whea butter fat sells for 129 cent a pound, surely the fariner gets goo pay for the tirao and labor expen.de on. Ins cows. In feeding pumpkins, i is important to remove the seeds. LITTER FOR BEDDING. Such forms of vegetable produe tion as weeds, vines, stalks, etc., i gathered and 'burned return but lit tle value to the farm. If allowed to remain on the ground they hinder plowing. Weeds will grow, and they are productions of our lands end have remo-ved from the soil a por- tion of its fertility. How to return this to the soil 111 tho most - con- venient form and get other benefits from this refuse should be considered by 'every ,farmer. Near large cities straw has become Ialmost too expensive an article - for bedding. Shavings and sawdust are not entirely satisfactory. Upon the farm. we have that whith ca.n take the place of these for stable litter. 13y a little extra labor and caro weeds and rubbish can be -gathered and secured for bedding. Although not as soft as straw, they are clean, absorb much of the liquid manure, and soon decay in the manure pile. When the seeds of weeds have ma.: tend they ha,d best be burned, but rather than have tho seeds scattered on the ground, we 'Would chance them iri tho compost heap, where a large " portion of them, will be des- troyed. The leaves from trees can be easily gathered and stored for stock. bedding. These may be considered by-products of 'the farra that have been going to waste. Utilize them by returniug them to the soil, an4 let them carry in their tissues some fertility froni the stoble. Mien ma REIS'. • • . , We must keep the fattaing pigs warm. If they are kept in a cold pen or allowedto run out in cold weath- er, 'at least twenty-five per cent more food will be required to give a given gain. Two hundred pounds is n. good market weight, awl do not have the pigs too fat. It does not injure a well nurtured, mature sow to give birth to two litters of pigs each yea. The squealing pig. with Staring coat and humped back, who crowds and pushes in the steamy nest for a warm place, is surely losing , money for his careless owner. There' is no great secret of success in swhie raising. A good, warm, dry well -ventilated hog house and pure water for all seasons A good pas- ture for spring, summer and fall, and a variety of feed for winter, with thrifty, strong pigs, and success is Slut% a good idea, and one the hogs will like, to throw over to them every -week or so a few freshly cut DAIRYING WITHOUT- A SILO. The farmer with a small dairy will find that he can obtain good results 'without a silo. Last spring we fed rye and clover once a day. Atenight all the cows would at clean, says Mr. P. It' Hartwell. The dry weathe er having set ill before our corn was large enough to feed, we fed a grain ratiozi of bran, gluten arid cob meal. By this means we kept tho cows well up to their work, with but little shrinkage. When the corn was ready we fed itfreely until the -rains had greened up pasteres. When these be- gan to fail, We fed the stalks from a late patch of sweet coro. By the time_ the corn was gone we had gathered scene ten two -horse loads of pumpkins which had grown in the corn. We began by feeding about a peck of chopped pumpkins to each cowetwice a day. Later, when it was necessary to give dry feed, we added to the pumpkins a half bushel- Of cut eats and hay, with two quarts of cob meal and four • quarts of beer grains. This mess was made wet and fed morning and night. When the ptunpkins -are gone we luite beets and turnips to follow, so that we can give succulent food till spring. Thet cows have shrunk but very little, in milk, and as the milk made on this feed in November test- ed 1.20, I guess it is al/ right. We planted our corn with a plant- er, going over tho ground twice, which made the rows 20 inches apart. ,Wo used about 250 pounds of geed fertilizer to the acre each time, From less than three acres we fed eight cows all they would eat and had several loads left over, 'which the cows Will eat, butts and all. • The pumpkins and turnips were groven e can find little opportunity for root - kg about. The fresh earth is good o for them and they will not fail to s show their appreciation of the treat. a Do not keep over two or three brood sows in the same pen. Give s, them a dry, comfortable nest so they d will not crowd and pile up ; they d should also be kept reasonably warm t to avoid this result. 'neu brood sows do not have a proper nest, or when they Eght and race each other about the pen, there is great danger of their getting injured. r CARE OF DAIRY UTENSILS. with the coi•ri, and so cast toth- sPds during the winter, When they It is often, difficult to keep dairy utensils in tho best possible con- dition in winter, because of lack of sunshine. On most farms vessels are washed and welded and then put in the sunshine until wanted. Many winter days have no sunshine. Uten- sils should therefore be boiled thor- oughly and subjected to live steam if this is obtainable. At aty rate, give thoni a good scalding in boiling water and place thorn where they aro exposed to outside air. Sunshine is the best possible disinfectant. Keep your dairy utensils in the sunshine as much as possible, TRY Tate,M. A Pew Little Things Which You Cannot Do. ' A man cannot rise from a chair without bending forward, or putting his feet under the chair or outside of it. Many a man will back himself to give another a start of fifty yards in a. race of one hundred, provided the man having the start' hops all the way. But no runner, however swift, can give that amount to an ordinary man. For the first five yards they go at practically the stone pace. , I Therefore the runner, to go ninety- five yards Witile the -"hopper" goes forty-five, would hove to run more ! a weak man who could not hop than twice as fast, and it would be for- ty-five . yards at a pace equal to twenty seconds for orie hundred yards, and that Would mean that the runner, in orddf to win„ would have to beat all previous records. • . If a man boasts that his penknife is particularly sharp, ask him to cut with one stroke of the blade Otte of those yellow ribbons, mostly of silk, Which are around bunclies of cigars. In 999 cases out of 1,000 the knife is net shape enough to do this. It will cat through all the ribbon ex- cept the last strand, and that will pull out long, e,nc1 the more he tries to cut it the longer it will pull out. No one except a blind man can stand without support of auy kind for five minutes at a, stretch, if he is thoroughly.' bl indfolded, without moving hia feet. If he does not move his feet he is pretty sure to topple over in about a minute. .-...-_-...4-----... AT LAST, "I sea that Wa.gson is going to get married." "I'm glad- he has found a Way- to support himself." Is Too 'Well Known to Ilosts of Nerve.Exhausted. Men and Women—The Fatal Farr r of Using Opiates. Cured by Using Dr. Chase's Nerve Fo To lie a,wake night atter night, the brain on fire with novena excitement and thoughts flashing befote the mind in never-ending variety, is the common experience of persons whose nereee aro weak and exhausted; During such eights nerve force is consumed at a tremendous- rate. Instead of beiog restored and reinvigorated for anothet clay's wear and teat the 'body is furthet Weekeiied and exhausted and the tuind le 'unbalanced by this terrible Waste of energy 'which the lamp of life is rapidly burniag ou.t. It is in this, 'despairing Condition that many mon an'd woolen atterept to 'drug arid deaden the her'trea by the use of opiates, This is a fatal step which hastens nerve decay. Surely it is- wiser to barrefip and completely reStore the nerves by using Dr. Chase's Nerve Food, a treatment vehich get A right, down to the foenclation of the diffieulty and effect...a perniaziezit reaulte by revital- ieing the Witeted nerve tells, - Sleepleseness is only coo of th;a limey 'distressing syreptotie which entirely flapper with the nee, of Dr, Obeeit's Norte Food, It is a positive euro fOr wettlenese of _nerves and body, and be speelfie kr Woman's becatiet they ahneet, iova.riablY arise frau eXhausted tterees. 50 eta, a box. 5 boxes- fot$2.1,50ah all dealer's or FidnIesiaozi, tlate$ Se Toronto.; e BRAITS PEEWIT DOOTORS sozaniY1rm$ wao ICMLM DESERVE TO 13E V, t, The Terrible Ra'sks pastsrs Rtitt14 Aupidxseess.for DeadlY, Typhus is, fortunately, a rarer dia. eese neevadaye that it used to be, i$ caused by filth, hunger, and oyma crowding, anct in old days was bet- ter known as gaol -fever. It iluUy c) frigate eiaufreectii.souee,o;idwyre:i:a 4 tisubalipcoost-, sible to leave Sufferers alone, for tint stlailintowfebaer alt this perlectly well, Dr. Sinith, of Dung,loe, comity Donegal, Ireland., having Inaira that there WELS a case of virulent tyPhlte over me the lsiaiitt Of Aranraore, im- mediately set out for the place. Ile had ate greatest difficulty in setting a boat, but eveatually got hold of au old one, went over alone, and succeeded in bringiog the patient across to the mainland. The man re"' covered, but the doctor sickened, and in a week was dead. Doetors take chances Of thiS, kind as a matter of course. In the Wa" periments which so many are a trying, with the object of finding ant tidotes for deadly cliseasee, the rieks run are far more tenable. A. distinguished member of the Ir- ish College of Surgeons, at present practising at Lowestoft, has lately offered himself as a subjeet of a still: more terrible experiment. He wrote recently -to Dr. 'Koala tlue famous consumption specialist, offering to submit himself to inoculatioa with tubercle poison from A TUBERCULOUS COW. According to Dr. Koch's theory, such inoculation, could have but one end—a. lingering death from con- sumption, Dr. Koch refused to take the risk, as he did also that of Inca" elating Dr. Gerhault, who made a similar offer. The latter, however.' has agreed to drink for twelve months nothing but milk from a tub- erculcius cow, and to live meantime upori the smallest possible quantity of food, so doing his best to solve the question. 'whether consumption is caught from infected cattle. A balloon ascent is a, trying ordeal. for a, person who has never before ventured above Oran ground. 'Yet three Parisian doctors not only brav- ed such an ascent far the sake of science,. but also the much greater) one of rising to the extreine height at which life is possible, in order to experiraent at that height upon the effect great altitudes have on the circulation. For this purpose they took up see veral dogs and other animals, and' also bled themselves. The difficulty, of handling lancets in the intense, cold of an elevation of 20,000 feet was immense, and the whole partyt were gasping for breath. Yet the wrote their memoranda as calmly as if they were in their, own laborator- ies on firm ground. ' ee Another Parisian notable for his pluck is Dr. Calmette, Pasteur's as- sistant hi -the great work of discov- ering a serum which shall be an effi- cient cure far snake -bite. For this purpose the doctor has frequently to handle newly -arrived, savage, and poisonous serpents. A few months ago an immense cob- ra which he was handling slipped from his grasp, aud struck him on the forefinger. Death itt twenty rain- utes is the result of cobra bite. Calmette did not hesitate an instant. IIE SEIZED A LANCET, ripped tne injured finger open, and called to an assistant. The 'atter immediately injeeted some serum of the doctor's own invention, and he recovered. So far from bebag dis- tressed at the risk he had ran, M. Calmette declared himself delighted at suchtutexcellent opportunity for testing his remedy. Dr. Pestanto of Lisbon, we'nt to Oporto when the plague broke out, did ma& 'useful work, and then, af- ter thormigh disiafection and qua-. antine, returned. ;dile day after hia arrival at hoine, as guests were ar- riving to a dinner given by his wife to celebrate his return, certain sym- ptoms proved to the doctor that he had plague, Elo immediately sent word to the authorities, and befora. he was taken away to the hospital gaverainute instructions as to the precautions his family should take, and arranged for their isolation. Then he himself took his medieinea and papers, and resigned himself to the care of the lazaretto attendants. Everything was done that eould be done, but all ia vain. Yet, even aa he was in the last deliritun, he kept on talking about the diseaee. His last words were: "Alas1 we know lit, tie mote about the plague than was known in olden ties."—London An- swers. ' READILY .k.NgiNERED. When a, man tempts fate by re- mixidinie a spinster of her condition, his punishment is generally swift and sure, In a counter of Ireland where tlae Quakers are numerous, the entire body were cm one occasion gathered.. together far one of 'their quacterly meetinge. After the exercises of the morninga public leucheon was serv- ed, at which all the friensie attemied. The coriversatiori tuened on matri- mony. "Dri,dget," said an etaman- nerly member of the society, epeak- ing- %tress the crowded table to a prim, elderly maiden laeiy, thou tell me why thoti hest never mar- ried?'' "Certainly, friend William." responded the ready 13ridget, in a voice audible ell over the room. pleaseel es thy wife Was." 'Tis becenee I _..aan.....not, tie cile31' -----mo arN rEkvrat TITAN' WOMEN, A Frenen surgeon has collected sta. tistics relative to deafeeSs. It ap- pears that males are mere eubject to aural diseases than feinalee, and that out of every MWett middle-aged per - sots there are tete Who do Not, beat, SO Weil, With one ene as gIh ttto ' tii6r.