Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1908-3-26, Page 244:04:037.t. +>(+): + +A+A+ti+Kt+ +0+ +4+i:(+ax +> +.t+ l A Ilousc of ystery OR, THE GIRL IN BLUE i 4.0-1- +3 4 .040431 int+E+1:t+04- 4- Gt+3 + -4.1 +#+0-F 4•Xii+KE+Ki CHAPTER I.—(Continued), I arose from my bed a fortnight facer stone blind. • With this tierrible at[liclion upon me i returned to London with Dick Doyle, who came out to Florence to fetch me home. For me, life had no further charm, Thebeauties of !be world which had given me se much pleasure and happiness were blotted out for me for ever, I lived now only 1n an eternal dankness which by day, when the sun shone upon my eyes, seemed to assume C. dull dark red. At fleet It struck me that tecauso mysight had been destroy- ed my personal apfioarance must have altered, but Diok assured nio that it had not. No one, he declared, could tell by looking at my eyes that they wore actually sightless, ' And so I, \Villbrd Heaton, lived In those dull old chambers ` in Essex Street, in rooms that I had never seen: You, who have sight to 'read these lines, can you Imagine what it is to be suddenly struck blind? Close your eyes for a brief five .minutes and see how utterly helpless you become, how entirely dependent you are upon others, hew blank would be your the if you were always thus. Dick gave to me tho time he could spare from his work, and would come and sit with me to chat, for oonver- satlon with hint was all thatwas left to me. Ho described my rooms and my surroundings with the same minute- ness with which he wrote, and tried to interest me by relating scraps of Lhe day's news. Yet when he was absent, away or at work in his rooms above, I sat alone thinking for hours, count- ing time hy the chiming of the stock of St. Clement Dents. So heavily did time hang upon my hands that at last I engaged a leacher from the Blind School over in Lambeth, and with his books'ot raised letters he used to visit me each day and teach mo to read. I was an apt pupil, I sup- pose, yet there was something strangely grotesque about a man who had already graduated recommencing to learn his alphabet Mee a child. Still, it saved me tram being driven mad by melan- choly, and it was not long before I found that by the exercise of pains 1 could read slowly the various embossed books, standard works manufactured .for tho recreation of those unfortu. nates like myself, who would other- wise sit eternally idle with the'r hands before them, And not only did I Learn to read, but also fo melte small fancy basi,els work versintricate at Met, but which, on a^count of P (he highly de- veloped veli ed sense of touch that I hadac- quired in reading, soon became quite easy. The long months of winter darkness went by; but to me, who could not see the sun, What mattered whether the days were brilliant August or black De- cember? Sometimes f went out, but not often. I had not become proficient Le finding my way back by aid of a stick. I had practised a good deal in my rooms; but for a blind man to go berth into the busy Strand he must have perfect confidence, and be able to guide himself among the bustling throng. Therefore, on my airings i usually went forth upon Dick's arum, and the extent of our wanderings was the end of the Embankment at West- minster Bridge, or around those small ornamental gardens which extend from the Charing Cross sLoL:on of the Under- ground Railway up lo Waterloo Bridge. Sometimes, on rare occasions, he would take me to dine with him at the Sav- ago Club, in Adelphi Terrace; and mon, easygoing Bohemians, whom I could not see, would warmly shake my hand, I henirl their voices—voices tet artlsts and literateurs whose names were as household words—snot charmed by their merry gossip of artistic "shop," laugh- ed at their droll stories, or listened to one or other of the members who would 'recite or sing for lite benefit of his brother Savages. Those evenings, spent amid the tobacco -smoke and glasa-jingling of the only Bohemian still existing in London, were the b•ap- ptest in all that dull, colorless, dismal lite of sound and touch. They were the only recreations left to ane. Truly mine was a LrtsLful life. In April, elder I had lived in that dingy den six months or more, Dick came into my room one morning and made an announcement. It was that he had been commissioned by the Daily Telegraph to go as its correspon- dent with a British punitve expedition en the North-West Frontier of India. "You'll go, of course," i said, reflect.. !ng that such an offer meant both ad- vancement and profit. He had long ago kid me that a commission as war correspondent Was his greatest ambi- tion. "No, my dear old fellow," his deep voice enaweresi in a tone more grave than usual. "1 can't leave you alone." "Nonsense!" 1 ejaculated, "I'm not going to allow you to fling away such a geed offer fo remail with me. No, you must go, Wok, You'll be back in throe months at most, won't you?" "Perhaps before," and his voice sounded low and strange. "'But really, old fellow. I can't go and leave you (helpless lake this;' "You'll go," 1 said decisively. "Mrs. Parker will look atter me, and three months will soon pass." "Na," he said. "It's all very well, but youcan't sit here month after month, helpless as you are. It's im- possible." "I shall amuse myself with my books and my basket -making," 1 answered. Truth le tell. this announcement of his had utterly crushed me. His society was the only bright spot In my lite. If he left me I should be entirely alone, timeless and melancholy. Neerlhelcs when the sight is destroyed the mild is quickened, and 1 reflected all that this offer meant to him, and admired his self-donial and readiness to refuse it on my' account. Therefore I lrtsisted Chet he shoubl go. in the end he was persuaded, and three days later lett Charing Cross for India. When he had gone i became hope - testy depressed. In vain did I try to interest myself in the embossed brooks, but they were mostly works which 1 had read tong, ago, and in vain I toiled at basket -making until my flinger -Ups were sore and aching, Sometimes at evening Mrs. Parker, herself a sad scho- ler, would ley and read a few of what she considered the choicest morsels of the "extra special." She read very slowly and inaccurately, poor old soul, and many were the words she was compelled to .spell and leave me to solve their meaning. Indeed, in those long hours I spent by myself I sank lower and lower in dejection. Ne teng- er I heard Dick's merry voice saying— "Come, cheer up, old chap. Let me telt you all I heard to -day over at the club." No longer could I lean upon his arm as we descended that steep flight of steps leading from (he end of Essex Street to the Embankment; no longer did I hoar those playful words of his on such oacasione— "Take care, darling, or you'll fall." Dear old Dick! Now, when I reflect- ed upon it all, I saw how in lay great efiliclton he treated me as tenderly as he would a woman. Forlorn, hypped, ani heartsick, I lived on from day to day, Viking interest in nothing, mop- ing doleful and unmanned. A single letter came from him, posted at some outlandish place in the Noel - West. It was read to me by old Mrs. Parker, but as Dick was a sad scrib- bler, tis translation was not a very brilliant sueceas. Nevertheless from 't I gathered how deep were his thoughts of me, and bow eager he was to com- plete his work and return. Truly no man had a more devoted friend, and oertalnly no man was more in need of one. As the days grew warmer, and I sat ever with the ttedium vitro upon me, joyless and dispirited in that narrow world of darkness, I felt stifled, and Longed for air. Essex Street is terribly eboso in July, therefore, finding the heat intolerable., I went•forth at even- ing upon the Embankment with Itis. Parker, and, with my slick, practised walking alone upon that long, rather unfrequented stretch of pavement be- tween the railings of the Temple Gale dens and the corner of Savoy Street. Try (o walk a dozen paces as one. blind. Close your eyes, and tap light- ly with your siiek before you as you walk, and see how utterly helpless you feel, and how erratic are your footsteps. Then you will know how extremely dif- ilcult I found my first essays alone. I walked full of fear es a child walks, stumbling, colliding, halting, and even wailhyg for my .Pitying old woman - servant to take my arm and gu(de me in safely. Yet evening atter evening I went forth and steadily persevered. I had, In the days before, lite world become shut out from my gaze, seen men who were bland guiding themselves fearless- ly hither and thither among the Lon- don crowds, and I was determined, in Dick's absence, to master the means el visionless locomotion, so that I might walk alone for health's s51ce, if for no- thing else, And so I continued sts•it'. ing and striving. When Mts. Parker had served lay dinner, cutting it up for me just as one places meat bofore'a helpless infant, we went forth together, and for an hour each evening l went out upon that wide expanse of the Em- bankment pavement which termed my pg ractico rowtd. Gradually, by slow degree.% I leonine prOOcient in guiding myself with that constant tapping that marks a blind Consumption is less deadly than it used to be. Certain relief and usually complete recovery will result from the following treatment Hopef rest,air, fresh and—Scott°.s E niaL,a'kln. ALL DRCiQOISTSI 500. AND 51.00. 4040004.01141,44014.0000444100 man's progress through the black void which constitutes hie own narrow joy- less world. At last, lifter several weeks el constant preotice, I found to my gro•aL delight that I could actually walk alo110 the whole length of the pavement, gulding myself by intuillee when encountering passers-by, enol con- tinuing straight on without stumbling 01 rollidin,g with any object, a furl which gave me the utmost sntisteclion, fur it seemed to place nuc beyond the need of a constant guide, With this progreaa I intended to astound Dick upon his return, and so gradually pen aevcred towards prefclency. CHAPTER U, August was dusty And blitzing in London, and I felt it sorely in Essex Street. The frontier war dragged en its weary length, as frontier wars al- ways drag; and Did( was still unable to return, Itis brilliant desoriplions of the fighting had become a feature in the journal he represented. On ane el my short wallas from end to end of than long even strip of pavement s hand was suddenly plaood upon my shoulder, and the voice told mo that it was Shadrack Fennell, a charming old fellow, who had been a popular ac- tor al a day long since past, and was now a prominent "Savage," well known In that little circle of London Bohemia, He walked with me a little way, and next evening called and spent an hour over cigars and whiskey, He was the only visitor ! had in all those months of Dick's absence. A blind elan has, alasl very few friends. Once or twice, when the heat became Insufferable in my close stuffy rooms, I contemplated going to the Country or le tate sea. Yet, on reflection. I told myself bitterly that, being unable t,: se the beauties of God's earth, I was just as well there moping in that gloomy street, and taking my evening airing beside the Thames. Therefore with all desire for life or enjoyment cruelted from my soul, I re- mained in Loddon, going out each Inc evening, sometimes with Mrs. Parker, and at others, with a fearlessness se- quh'ed by .practice, I carefully guided myself down the steep granite steps leading from Essex Street to the Em- bankment, and then paced my strip of pavement alone. But how irlsttul, dis- ph4ting, and soul -sickening was that monotonous world of darkness fn which eternally existed, none can know, only those unfortunate ones who are blind themselves. About batt -past eight O'clock one breathless evening in mid-August, Mrs. Parker being unwell, I went forth alone for my usual stroll. Tho atmosphere was close and oppressive, the pavement seemed lo reflect the heat, and evert along the Embankment there was not a breath of air. Atone, plunged in no, own thoughts—tor the blind think far store deeply then those whose minds are distracted by the sights around them—I went en with those short steps that I had acquired, over tapping with my stick to discover the cross- ings. 1 wee afraid of no street traffic; only of cycles, which, by reason of their silen'oe, are veritable orgres to the blind. Almost unconsctou.d, i passed be- yond the limit of my regular track, beneath t t he railway-bridgewilt h I C knew led from Charing -f reps station and then straight on, with only a single crossing, until i came to weal seemed the junction of several roads, where I hesitated. It was an adventure to go so far, and I wondered where I was. The chiming of Big Ben, however, gave me a clue. I was at the corner of Bridge Street, for I felt the wall of the St. Stephen's Club. The turning to the left would, 1 knew, take me over \Vestmttsler Bridge; to the right I could cross Palace Yard and Broad Sanctuary, and so gain Victoria Street. Beton my afllibtien I knew well that portion of London around the Houses of Parlia- ment. I decided, therefore, on keeping ee the right, and some one whom I know not kindly piloted me over the dangerous crossing from the corner of Parliament Street, for such I judged it to be from the tries of men selling the evening papers. Again, three times hit suocession, did eynspathetic persons, noticing my helplessness es I stood upon the kerb, talcs my arm and lead me across, but in these constant cross- ings I somehow entirely lost my bear- ings. I was, I knew, in a long straight thoroughfare, and by the iron railings before the houses guessed it to be that road at (tat-dom, Vielorta Street. Amused at my intrepidity, and eon- gratulattng myself upon having gone as far alone, I. kept on, knowing that even if i lost myself I had only to call a passing hansom and be driven back le Essex Street, Thus for perhaps three-quarters of an hour I wandered on. From a lad who helped ase over one of the crossings I learnt that I had passed Victoria Station, and now ap- peared to 'Inc traversing several large squares—at Least, such was the impres- sion conveyed upon my mind. Itwas uscl se to stop possons-by every moment to inquire where I was, therefore, laugh- ing inwardly at my situation, lost in London, the great city I had known s'i well, i went on and on, down long straight thoroughfares that seemed e ndless, in enjoyment of the first real walk I had taken since my onushing alttict!on bead fallen upon ate, Suddenly, In what seemed to be a quite deserted street, I left the kerb to cross the road alone, but e'o I became aware elf impending danger a man's voice shoulid toughly, end i found my- self thrown by violent c,.anousston up- on the raodway, struggitng fanlioally beneath a horses Ito' fs. I clutched wildly at air to Savo myself, but next second received a violent kirk on the left side of the head, which caused g i nuke to appear before my sightless ryes, shinned tee, and nendered me air most tnslnetly insensiltle. ilnw long i remained ignorant of things about the it is impelssiblo le tell, 1 fanny it must have boon a gecxi many hours. On my first, Morn to ccnseiousnese i heard strength Confused ✓ rnd5 about me, low whispering the w ,r<le of which were utterly uninlel. i.igihlr� la ere, itllbnlum,ed Tonle, and the quick rustling of silk. I remember 'wondering vaguely where 1 wash Tite Thirty=Eighth Annual " sport 1 TO JANUARY ist, 09(08, OF THE LfL' of Ca HEAD OFFICE, _ WATERLOO, ONTO CASH ACCOUNT INCOME. NET LEDGER ASSETS, December 31st, 1600 .... .... ....5 9,900,471.70 PREMIUMS: First year ....5 230,636.63 Renewals .... . , . , .. 1,519,322.77 Annuity .... 3,450.00 Less Re -assurance 51,763,409.40 20,367.52 "1i0F1T AND LOSS .... .... 1,733,041.89 508,240,02 1,288,25 812,194,047.85 DISBURSEMENTS.\ TO POLICYHOLDERSi Death Claims „53(7,770 60 Matured Endowments , 176,785.03 Surrendered Petioles ., 92,138.68 Surplus .... .... ..... 80,805.19 Annuttics .. 10,71099 5 080,220.30 EXPENSES, TAXES, FTC ..,. 383,981.33 BALANCE NET LEDGER ASSETS, December 31st, 1907 , ... 11,069,840.22 BALANCE. SHEET ASSETS. Mortgages .... .. . . ... . .......... $5,756,070.05 Debentures and Bonds .. .. 3,593,965.84 Loans on Policies -.... .... 1,410,130.87 Premium Obligations .... .... ..,22,53421 Real Estate (companys bead Otticc) 30,875,70 Cash In Banks . ... .... .... 280,494.29 Cash at Head °Mee .... 0,505.19 Due and deferred premiums, (net)319,277.97 Interest duo and aoorued .... 241,554.01 Audited and found correct. J. M, SCULLY, F.C.A., GEO. WEOENAST, Auditor Managing Director. Waterloo, January 291h, 1908. 61 1,656,409.92 812,134,047.85 LIABILITIES. Reserve, 4p.c., 33;p.c, and 3p.e. standard .... ... .. . . .. . . .:810,019,563.2 Reserve on lapsed policies`on which surrender values are claimable. 4,171.22 Death Claims unadjusted .... ...... 58,350,00 Present value of death claims pay- able in instalments ..,. 38,500.03 Matured Endowments, unadjusted 1,693,45 Premiums paid in advance .... ..., 12,737.18 Due for medical fees and sundry Credit Ledger Balances .... .. Surplus; December 31st, 1907 (Surpl'us on Government Standard of Valuation 81,897,358.28.) 10,030.75 25,730.82 1503,719.68 S 11,056, 40292 New Ouslntess written (gain over rgo6, $x,577,835) Insurance in force (gain over rgo6, $4,[79,44o) - Surplus (gain over rgo6, $300,341) - $7,081,402 - 85,091,848 - 51,503,719 Booklets containing full report et the Annual.Report, held March gth 1908, are being publishes and will be distributed among Policyholders in due course. 1 blind quickly develop a habit of ex- treme caution and with n Y senses dulled by the excruciating pain in my seize [laIrefecting without speaking. . The throbbing in my head was fright- ful. When the rocollectlons of my long walk which had ended so disastrously surged through my brain, it struck me that I must have been taken to a hos- pital after the accident, and that I had most probably remained there some days. Yet in ho,epitale there is no per- fume of peau d'Espegnc, nor do the nurses wear silken flounces. 1 tried to catch the words uttered by these about me, but In vain. It may have been that they were spoken in some foreign longue, or, what is much more likely, rho terrible blow I had re- ceived from the horse's hoof had uttet'- ly disarranged ley sense of hearing. This single thought appalled me. If my hearing had really been injured, then I was rendered absolutely help- less. To the blind the acoustic organs become so sharpened that they roan de- tect sounds where those in full pcsses- ston of sight and hearing can distingu- ish nothing, it is the ear that acts for the sightless eye. Therefor rho fear that even this had failed me held me appalled. i stretched forth my hand, end to my surprise felt that I was not in a hos- pital bed, es I bad at:first believed. but upon a silken couch, with my head resting upon a soft pillow. The cov- ering of the couch was of rich brocade in wide stripes, While the woodwork had a smoothness which caused me to believe that it was gilt. I raised my hand to my head, and found It band- aged with a handlcer•chief and some apparently Innprovtaed 'centpreases. (To he Continued.) PRIN'CE'S ORUMY COUSIN. The Late fling Oscar's Meeting `With Another Bernadotte on a Steamer, Dr. Wilhelm Koehler, of Mannheim, Germany, contributes a new anecdote to the recollections of the late Xing Os - ear of Sweden. It goes hack more than fifty years, to a time when Oscar, then Crown Prince, was travelling about See- ing the world, Ona day be boarded a passenger steamer at Marseilles for a trip to North Africa. Ile was in civilian's dress and unattended. The captain, who did not know who ha was, accosted him, "!t scams to me 1 saw you at the naval review yesterday," he said. "Very likely you did,' said Prince Oscar. "And it seems to me ,yeti were wear- ing an Admiral`s uniform,' "1 rather think I was." "You meet be a remarkable seaman to have reached that rank at your age; you can't be over 25." • "Oh, a little alder than that, isut I'm no seaman at all. I wear art Admiral's uniform in right of my name." ".Which 11.1----" "Bernadotte," "Ah, some relation of the old Mar. - shai? "-Merely his greed -10e. t am P1'11lce UN THE FkRM. PURL' AIB FOR COWS. Hoard's Dairyman has repeatedly asked Its readers this question: Is there any reason why a cow should not have u3 .pure air in winter as in summer? Of course, no one has ventured to answer to the contrary. Milts is se- creted .prbnarily from blood. All the elements of growth are carried and de- posited by the blood. Think of the won- derful action of the heart that conveys finally 50 pounds of milk to the udder sc wo can get it. But tine blood is kept pure by the air in the lungs and is vital by these things. It goes out on its hidden and mysterious journey to the farthest extremity, carrying with it for deposit what is needed for each bit of tissue for all different purposes. Then it gathers up on its return jour- ney a .lot of impurities and comes to the lungs for purification. These impurities are taken out by the oxygen of the air ton the lungs, When the blood comes to the lungs it is of a dark liver color. As soon as it feels the effect of oxygen taken from the air the color is changed to bright crimson. Right here do we see necessity of pro- viding the cow 10 her stable just as na- ture does in the lleld with a full sup- ply of pure oxygen in order that the blood may bo vitalized. Many a fann- er who is ignorant of these principles shuts, his cows up in a foul, close stable. miens with the fumes of manure and urine, and never thinks how ha 1s beat. ing himself In the faze all the time. Ho. c3 doing all he can to prevent his cows from yielding an abundance of good milk' for he is robbing them of their supply of oxygen without which the blood cannot help the udder to secrete. This matter of milk secretion is a Oscar of Sweden, brother of the King.' "Then maybe your Highness would Uke to meet a cousin," "I shouldn't object. I know there ore some, but I have never seen one yet," rho captain stepped to the speaking tube end shouted to the engine•, room: "Send up Bernadotte," In. a minute or two a grimy stoker, naked to the waist, appeared. "This is your cousin,'' said the cap- tain,' who was an extreme republican, with a bow in which the irony was only latent; But it the captain hoped Ie embarrass. or annoy. the Prince, he was disappoint- ed ()sear put out his hand and shook his tenant's black hand: lie asked hien about 11,e relationship; about other ccu- Sits near Pau, where the Marshal ons kern, and aboul.isis ovtt life find work, Then he made the other i3ernadotte a present worthy of a Prhlce. and took his name end address with a view 10 future benefits, wonderful thing. IL has Maimed the 01. let -Won and deep study 'of thousauda cd the world's brightest minds since tho day that Aristotle the Creek wrote of the human another. And still 11 is a mystery. But we may know some thing about it it we will. Among then( is rho ever -pressing importance of water and pure air, Ignorant men can own cows and can shut them up in foul, d'seasc- brocding stables, but nature punishes then for their recusal to know the laws. Again was asked: COW STALLS AND TiES. ` There was never a time in the history of dairying when so much at'ontton 's given. to the building of comfortable ties for tate dairy caw. The rigid stanchion is giving away to the swinging stanchion, to the diete- tic stalls where the cows de -not have to be tied, and many. other new and mere comfortable arrangement for fast• ening cows, While the cows seen to thrive and do well in tho rigid stanchion, yet the new devices for tying dairy cows must be more comfortable. It leas sbweys seamed to nus that any stall which per- mits tato cow to move her head to her side is preferable to a do which keeps her head in a nearly straight position. The modern methods of hitching cat- tle not only gives the cow more free- dom and therefore more oemfort, but they invariably give the cows a better opportunity to keep. creat. This is a strong argument. in favor of some of the more modern lies, for everywhere Moro is a pressing demand for cleaner milk, and everyone knows that it is easier to produce clean milk from clean cows than from dirty ones. Give 'each cow a small stall by her, self and she is fastened in It by stretch- ing a chain from pest to post or from pavWUon to partition at the rear end of the stall, This arrangement gives the cow considerable freedom as she Is at liberty to hove {ter bead to iter ;side. when lying down and to lick herself when standing up, The movable gale to Pront of her limos her to the gutter end ,prevents her to a largo degree from dirtying her stall. One of the chief objections to this form of stall is the posts which aro nec- essary for building it, but many of the ueors do not consider this objection at all. serious. It is not possible for to to sn,y whet kind of stall another man should build or buy, bud every dairyman ,should atm to make his cows comfortable and keep them clean. -- THOSE MANURE PILES, Regardless of the fact that in eget- Cultural papers, farmer's institutes and from other sources the teaching of 001 - mot methods of hnndlieg manure is feughl, we still Ned great piles from the stables accumulating under The raves where much of fertilizing proper. ties will le washed out befnra it roaches the soil. It is net practicable to haul 11 evrt;y day to the field it should be Waved under cover. 13y nixing the elf-. !arced kinds. giving the loose stork a Memel\ to Masud I1 noon dhere wilt be 11;t1C loss from &clang, �qlryn�jr SALT 414444.424.44414410464 FIS[).SKIN DISEASE, Ichthyosis—front the Greek word f sr fliaselenifo attend for a ,pa:u- ltarh--Is dlsnasethe, or rather d„fortuity of 1105 stein characterized hy an overgrowth of a horny, scaly layer and an abnormal dryness, it usually exists from birth, although a few cases of acquired ash. skin disease have bee:(. Observed, Its cause is unknown, It often affects sev- eral members of the salve family, and in many eases is evidently hereditary, Although ex!eting from bullet, 1t may not Inc very marked in the Infant, but may be little more than a roughness and unusual scaliness and dryness of the skin. it increases gradually, be- coming very apparent by the tilled or fc,urth year, far six or eight years per- haps, and then its progress slops and it remaptically tnd for ((15, althoughins rac a slight imuncltprovanllgoenl is sometimes noticed as the child approch- es manhood or womanhood. It varies with the seasons, being bet- tor in the summer --and betis' the hot - lei and moister the air is—and worso again in winter. The skin is also liable to inflammation in cold weather and chaps easily, giving rise to painful cracks over the knuckles and at the lips of the fingers. The nails are rough and often breatc and split, and the hair is also dry and frayed al the ends. There are all degrees of the disease, from a simple, dry roughness and scali- ness, to a condition in which the sur- bano is covered with thick plates re- sembling the scales of a crocnriile, In a:ntost alt cases there aro more or less lethals markings, especially over tho eelenser surfaeee of the joints, resemb- ling fish -scales or a serpents skin, The disease may occur in patches or in cure - el bands of varying width, with hea- thy or nearly healthy skin between, but most commonly it !evolves the entire surface, being least marked where the skin is nslurnlly thin, The Treatment is :mainly local, lis ob- ject being to remove tine excess of hor- ny scales and keep the skin soft, Anoint- ing the body at night with soft soap, followed by a warm baht end thorough rubbing with a coarse towel Or lla.;h- brush will, If often repeated. keep the scaling within limits. The free use of a good cold cream, borax and glycerin in water, lanolin or vaselin. nppiled im- mediately after the hath, and 11 neees- saty again in the morning, will go far to keep the skin soft and pliable. More severe cases wilt require more severe remedies, which shnuld be used only under medical direction.—Youth's Com- panion. QUININE FOR iNELUIEN7,A. ht a paper on the treahnenl and pre- ventien of influenza Sir William Broad - tent, surgeon in ordinary to the king of England, is gm,oled cls saying: "As a prophylactic (preventive) i early ordered two • grains of quinine every morning during the prevalence ai the epidemic, and the results appear r ,o he good. Of caw 'se tiltt patients who sr.re taking r uinine did occasion- ally aItY gat influenza, bill I have ca n very many instances in which Thi, dose has made a complete. difference In the pat,enl's liability le infection and even to the general. mode of life. "I have moreover had opportunities of obahnhng extraordinary evidence of its protective power, hl a Ingo public school it was ordered to be taken every mn "orSameing. of the boys in the school were home boarders, and it was found that while the boarders at the school took the quinine in the p1', seICe of the 1 05' ter every morning (here were scarcely any cares of influenza anong then(, et. Mengel the home boarders suffered near. 1y Much 5s fre, ” fssn a large girbelsc' srhool neer Lon- don the sante thing Wass ordered and the girls and mistresses took their morning dose, but tilt servants aero forgotten. The result was that scarce - .any girl or mistress suffered, while the servants were all down with Ibis influenza." ROBBERY BY IIYPNOTishi. '1110 Marquis of Town- shend Makes an Odd Accusation. A remarkable case of hypnotism and blighted affection is occupying the at. tention of a London court, in which the Marquis of Townshend is one of the principals, The other Is the Rev, Arthur Robins, one thea curate of the fashionable I•loly Trinity Church. The Marquis Is the plaintiff in the case, and he eherges ihe. curate with having hypnotically tvhcedled hole him vaeietis large sums of money anti valu- able heirlooms, and else the love of his beautiful wife, which the curate has deprived hint of by slander. The. Marquis wept so hysterically when he related his woes on the wit. nosy stand that he could scarcely be understood. 1'ltc plaintiff's story is (int he studied hypnotism with the de(ondent, who found the. Marquis so plastica subject that he put Min tauter hypnotic con. Ural and in that Stale secured many of the Townshend paintings, wort*: of art and jewels, and also the Townshend ready money—all under the simple selteme of making the (hornets think he didn't need any of the possessions. The affairs of the Marquis of Towns. hand have had many strange ;Mem, In 1005 he inarricd Gladys Ethel Owen. dolen kugenic. the beautiful daughter 0t Thomas Sulhersl•, a law,ver, Tho Marquis is n 11111e, hnslgnlflonnt man, and not particularly bright, while I.114 Marchioness is a woman of great toil and enco. Aftonlntelllgthe haneymoon, which was a farce, there were legal entanglements over money matters, which waro brought to n topsy-lurvey end by the declaration of wife and father-in}law that the Marquis was mentally inoap- able. Seine sort of roroneillaffnn was 10tclted , and 6)5100 'Oti gt;lct fax brooded ovuper Iba downslhhend luenago, { 'r.