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The East Huron Gazette, 1892-05-26, Page 6/ mi I 111 Mr "eel 5-telete ":l TORN ASUNDER - It was on a lovely morning in June, I re- member, two or three years ago, that I ar- rived, on a business journey, at a village in Esse:, which for the purposes of this story 1 will call Amesford. It was a day of glorious sunshine, and everything looked bright, happy, and gay. Even the villagers seemed too be Wearing their best and gayest clothes, and there was altogether such an air of festivity and holi- day making abort the place that my first inquiry of the matronly hostess of the inn at which 1 intended to stay was to the cause of all tkes mirth and frivolity. " Lola bless you, sir, don't you know ? I thought everybody knew that by this time. Why, it's Bessie Blossom's wedding day, of course," said the good-natured. dame. "Ah ! she's a perfect picture, she is ; and as good as gold." "I'm sure I hope Miss Blossom will be happy," I said, reserving the variety of puns which occurred to me as practicable fora more appreciative audience. " As I am going to stay at Amesford till to -mor- row," 1 added, "perhaps I may have a chance of seeing the bride. - " You will have no time to lose then, sir," said the good lady, as she directed me to the room I was to occupy. " The wedding is to be at eleven punctual, and it only wants a quarter. I was just going to put my bonnet on when you came in, so you'll excuse me now, sir, won't you? I wouldn't miss the sight for worlds. As I live, there go the bells," and she bustled off to her own particular sanctum, while I made my way to the church whence I could hear the merry chimes of the village bells. It was a pretty wedding, though the church, full to the very porch, was so hot and stifling that I was glad to get outside and get a breath of fresh air in the church- yard before the ceremony was half over. The bride was not so young as I expected to find her. After the gushing language of my landlady I naturally looked to see a young girl of about eighteen, fresh and beautiful. I saw instead a grave, lady -like person, whose age would certainly not be less thansix-and-twenty, of medium height, wearing a creamy silk dress, a long tulle. veil, and a wreath of flowers which, if not orange blossoms, suited the colour and tex- ture of her hair admirably. She walked through the double row of eager spectators ranged on each side of the path leading from the outer gate to the church porch with a careless grace, and what I thought was e proud, slightly -contemptuous curl of the lip. She seemed to me, by birth or education, to be rather above the average cut of the good people of Amesford—a fact she was evident- ly thoroughly aware of. I gathered that her father was a soldier, retired on a pension, her mother an ex -lady's maid, and the bride -groom the village school- master and leaderof the choir at the parish church. It was probably such a wedding as the Amesford folk did not often get a chance of seeing, and they had turned out en masse to do honour to it. Presently the pealing of the organ and the strains of the wedding march floating softly on the still air announced the conclu- sion of the service, and the people streamed out "of the building to take up their places along the walk, and be ready to pelt the Imide and bridegroom with flowers and rice as they passed on their way to the carriage standing in the road outside. I had noticed, while I had been loitering in the churchyard, a disreputable looking fellow standing near the gate. There was the nervous twitching about the mouth, and the bloodshot, watery look about the eyes which betokened days, and probably nights, of drunkenness and dissipation. He wore a battered top hat, a short frock coat very much damaged, and worn almost threadbare dgwn the front and about the arras; a pair of dirty gray trousers, well fringed around the bottoms, and standing well away from the knees, and boots which were almost heelless, and gaped wide at the toes. A dirty collar, tied round with a soiled silk handkerchief, completed his vis- ible attire. And yet, notwithstanding his seedy, dilapidated appearance and rakish, dissipated look, there was that in his -man- ner and in his talk, when presently he spoke, which induced the belief that he had seen better days. He was looking through the railings with a curiouslyand remained eager gaze, mo- tionless until the people came trooping out of church. Then a cruel smile played about his mouth, and a' glitter lighted up his bleared eyes as he took up a position from which he would face the bride as she came through the porch. I was strangely inter- ested in the man, so out of place amidst that gay and festive throng and moved up cloae to him. A stir in the crowd, and the murmur of many voices, heralded the appearance of the newly -married couple. I noticed that the pian kept in the background till they had reached the middle of the walk. Then hu suddenly started forward, and with a 'sweep of the hand, which drew all eyes upon him, exclaimed : - "Look you, good people, that woman is my wife ! Ha ! ha ! proud madam, you did not dream of this." Instantly the place was in an uproar, as with a piercing scream the startled woman fell back in a swoon. A score of strong hands- seized upon the man who had launch- ed this bolt from the blue, while hoarse murmurs arose. " He's mad 1"--" he's drunk !"—" duck him in the horsepond !" resounded on every side, and the excited rustics would have made short work of it had I not spotted the village constable, and seizing him by the arm dragged him to the pot. "I tell you she is my wife. If you don't believe me ask her," exclaimed the man, as the crowd 'by whom he was being severe- ly hustled fell back to make way for the rxinstable. Meanwhile the bride had been carried Into the vestry, on the table of which still eer the register she had so recently signed. The schoolmaster seemed but a poor tool, and was too bewildered by the suddenness afthe attack to be capable of doing anything but look helplessly on. The constable wanted to take the cause ofall this disturbance into custody as a -rogue and vagabond. I suggested that it might be as well first to hear what the officiating clergyman bad to say, and although he Seemed inclined to resent my interference, 1 induced him at last to take the man round to the vestry door, whither.I accompanied. =them. Here a conference took place. The -man gave his name as William Chandler, and'epeated that the woman just married Aas his lawful wife, adding that he owed her a_grudge and meant to pay her out. He didn't want the woman; wouldn'tlive with her in fact, at any price. But she had com- mitted bigamy; hadn't she, he inquired with cool`efl=ron?~ery, and instead of locking him of. . ,I've had to keep thyself since you ran ftp the retable word • be hatter doing his away and left me, but I mean to make you do it now, you beauty!" And sq, it turned, out.. An officer was sent with. the womantofetch the marriage cer- tificate, which was found` to be `: in proper form. Then:nameMr. Chandler's turn to go I don't think William Chandler had quite reckoned upon this, but he maintained a sullen silence, and amidst the hooting -and hustling of the crowd was conveyed to the round, toll -house looking structure which served as the village lock-up.- - Later in the day I heard Bessie Blossom's story from my landlady, as much of it, at least, as- seas known to the latter. Bessie Blossom had been brought up by her penents with rather exalted views ot life. They had saved a bit of money, and they spent a portion of it in giving the girl a boarding -school education and training, which the ex -lady's maid regarded as abso- lutely essential to her daughter's happiness. Then at eighteen the girl went to London as assistant -governess in the family of a baron- et, and there made the acquaintance of the baronet's nephew, a young scapegrace, who had never done any good for.himself or any- one else. He was sufficiently attached to the girl to marry her. When the affair came to the ears of Sir Dixon Tryton, however, which was not until the knot had been securely tied he immediately stopped the allowance of two hundred a year he had previously made his nephew, and warned him that not a penny piece more in any shape or form need he look for or expect. Idle and dissolute, William Chandler, thrown on his own resources, sneedily developed the innate brutality of his nature, and vented his rage and disappointment on his unoffend- ing wife. She bore with his ill-treatment until her child died. Then she resolved to leave him and go into service again, if pos- sible, and she was preparing to put this plan into execution, when news reached her that in a drunken frolic with some boon compan- ions, in the course of which they had launch- ed and gone to sea in a leaky boat, be had been drowned. Bessie Chandler returned to her parents to take counsel with them as to her future, for she was left. penniless. She found her mother stretched on a bed of sickness. No- thing was known in the village of the girl's marriage, and it was supposed that she had returned home to nurse her mother. And when, a few weeks later, the mother went the way of all flesh, Bessie yielded to her father's entreaties to remain - with him: That was a matter of two years ago. - Then came the wooing of Bessie by the school -master. She had become very much attached to him, and gladly accepted his proposals. But she had not enlightened him as to that dark experience of hers, and had forbidden her father to do so under a threat of leaving him and never seeing him again, which to the lonely old man was quite sufficient. So that the blow had found the schoolmaster wholly unprepared, and had broken him down. The question remained—what was to be done. It was clear that Bessie had committed an act of bigamy, which, though done innocently and unwitting- ly, none the less made her amenable t+, the law. And during the evening news was brought that Mrs. Chandler had been arrested on a warrant, and was in the custody of the inspector of police at the neighboring town, where the Amesford con- stable had reported the affair assoonas he had disposed of Chandler. - The police -court at the town, where the petty sessions for the division in which Amesford was situated were held, was al- most as full of Amesford folk the next day as the church hadbeen. There was a charge entered against William Chandler that he had been brawling in Amesford churchyard and that he had no visible means of subsis- tence. For these offences he was liable to be sent to gaol for three months. But as he would have to give evidence in the bigamy case it was decided to take that first. Although I had lost the greater part of the previous day, as far as business was con cerned, I was by this time sufficiently in- terested in the matter to make one of the audience when the case was called on. On being placed in the dock, Bessie covered her face with her hands, and burst into a pas- sionate burst of tears. The suddenness and unexpected nature of the event, coming at a time when a woman's nerves are naturally overstrung with excitement; then the arrest, the thought of the disgrace and exposure, and above all, as I afterwards heard from her own lips, the dread that she might have to live again -with the man who had done her such cruel wrong, had unnerved her. But after that first outburst she sat calm and quiet while the constable gave his evi- dence, and the clergyman deposed as to the service performed at Amesford Church the previous day. Then William Chandler stepped into the witness box, and stated that he had been rescued from the boat accident, but had made no effort , to let his wife know he was alive. He had been very unfortunate, and hearing that his wife was living at Amesford, he had tramped - his way to that village to hear, as he entered it, that she was to be married again. He did not deny that he could have stopped the marriage ceremony taking place had he liked, but added, amid the unrestrained hisses of the spectators in court, that he " did not see why he should have put himself out about her—she never cared twopence for him after she knew he had no money." "And you say this woman is your lawful wife ?" asked the presiding magistrate. "I do," replied the man. " When and where were you married ?" asked the magistrate's clerk. " At Chepstow Church, by license, on the first of May, 1878," was the reply. " You being then a bachelor ?" was the next question. The witness hesitated a moment, then answered " Yes." "You lie, you villain," exclaimed a shrill female voice at the rear of the court. " It you're William Chandler, I'm your lawful wife, for you married me first. Ain't one enough ?" " Make way,for that woman," said the clerk. " Come forward." By dint of much pushing and exertion the woman edged her way through the excited crowd till she stood by the side of the man she claimed. She was a coarse -featured, red-faced woman of middle age,yet with the remnants of 1-ygone beauty. " Yes, it's him, sure enough," she said, when she had glanced at Chandler. " Like ire, he isn't so handsome as he was. I was a barmaid when he married me--" "It's false," interrupted the man, who had utterly collapsed at the sound of the woman's voice, but hadnow recovered some amount of self-possession and - assurance. "It was not a legal ceremony." "Oh, that's your game, is it," exclaimed the woman, placing her arms akimbo, and facing him with an expression which boded ill for him. "But it won't do. I've got the certificate safe enough, and have satisfied myself- it's -all right : and proper. No, Mr. William Chandler, you're my husband, safe enou h, though you're nothing to be proud he ocked her up. Ilstable;said. he would e" oold take the risk utt 1r tjf andler under leck and key _,; afrathe woman would I• into the dock on a charge of bigamy, and he was duly committed for trial. I don't know what became of him or his wife. But Bessie was escorted back to Amesford in triumph. restored to the arms of the schoolmaster, and, I believe, "lived happy ever after." PEARLS OF TRUTH. "Of all fruitless errands, sending a tear to look after a day that is gone is the mo t fruitless." - As the shadow of the clouds glidesover the fields and leaves no trace behind, so does evil over pure lives. To err is human; but the pain felt for the crime that has been committed separates he good from the bad.—[Alfieri. We are so mach in the habit of wearing a mask before others that at last we do it before ourselves.—[La Rochefoucauld. The spirit of life is like the seed in our gardens; it either grows and bears fruit in the sunlight, or it rots in the darkness. Meeting trouble is just like going into the enemy's country. There is not a siugle promise given us for such a useless, fool- hardy journey. "It is not by turning over libraries, but by repeatedly perusing and intently con- templating a .few great models, that the mind is disciplined." There is a great deal of unmapped coun try within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms. —[G. Eliot, Trample not onany; there may be some work of Grace there that thou knowest not of. The name of God may be written on that soul thou treadest on. —[Leighton. Men and women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague, uneasy longings, sometimes for - genius, sometimes for religion, and oftener still for a mighty love.—[George Eliot. THE 1REAT VICroRIA FALLS. Amongthe Grandest In the World, Though Very Little Can Be'Seen of Them. Livingstone was the first to describe to us the great falls of the upper Zambesi River, which he called the Victoria Falls. These falls are among the greatest in the world. The most recent visitor to them is Mr. Decle, a French explorer, who is now carrying out ethnological investigations in the Upper Zambesi "region. He has made some remarks about these falls which give us a different impression of them from that commonly held. He says that all his predecessors have spoken so enthusiastically of the falls that he hardly dares to express his own opinion. " I will content myself," he adds, " by saying that they would be very grand if one could only see them. The great river, about a mile wide at this place, suddenly con- tracts and disappears, apparently into the bowels of the earth, falling from a height which I estimate at about 400 feet, into a gorge which is about 500 feet wide. The water dashes itself with such violence to the bottom of this gorge that much of it re- bounds high in the air,and a column of spray and vapor rises at least 300 feet above the level of the river. Ore can see this column plainly marking the location of the falls, seven miles away, and their roar can be heard for several miles. I could find no position where I could see the bottom of the gorge, and there was only a single .place where it was possible for me to see as much as 600 feet in width of the falls at one time. It is impossible to compare the Vic- toria Falls with those of N iagara. The latter are very grand and the- former are terrific, but more on account of what we imagine than because of what we can see. Crow's Nest .??ass Railway. A despatch from Ottawa says :—Col. Baker, M.P.P. for Kootenay, B. C., and one of the leading promoters of the B. C. South- ern railway, which is chartered to build a railway through the Crow's Nest pass, ar- rived here to -day for the purpose of furth- ering the company's bill now before Parlia- ment. The company has received a land grant from - the Provincial Legislature of 3,400,000 acres, and liberal terms have been offered to the Canadian Pacific to de- cideover the charter theywill take v whether and subsidy and build the line. The C.P.R. has been given until the 2Sth inst. to decide whether it will accept the offer. Re3ult of Observation. He—I don't see how a girl can marry a man she's known only two weeks. She—And I don't see how she can marry one she's known longer. A Frightful- Example. Teacher—" What is the meaning of the word `contiguous'?" - Pupil—"Dunno." Teacher—" -It means 'touching.' Give an .example of a sentence containing the word." Pupil (after a prolonged mental struggle) " The ' Babes in the Wood' is a very con- tiguous story." His Brother Looked Like Him. "Didn't you warrant this suit of clothes not to fade ?" indignantly demanded a work- man of Moses on York street. " No, my frient." " Yes, you did. I bought them on your warrant not to fade." " My frient, keep cool: You vas in der wrong store. I vas der man who warrants de clothes not to shrink. It vas my brud- der, two doors away, who goes on der no fade peesness, and he failed last night." Too Much Frivolity. Farmer's- Boy—There's goin' to be a minstrel show in Piukintown next week, can I--- Old —Old Hayseed—Gee whittaker ! It ain't a month since you went to the top o' the hill to see the 'clipse of the moon. D'euth wanter to be always on the go ? In a battle between British troops and Lushais, between Lungle and Damagiri, in India, 40 of the latter were killed. The oldest capital in the United States is Santa Fe, which was the seat of government in New Mexico as far back as 1640, and yet its populationis only 6,185 according to Porter's census. Mankind is always happier for having been made happy. If you make them happy now you will . make them thrice happy twenty years hence in the memory of it.—[Sidney Smith. There is a rock in Mexico which foretells the weather. In fair weather it wears a neu- tral tint, and :when .it is about to rain it turna to a dingy red. Its temperature in- creases, and it appears as if it were :being heated by an internal fire. HOUSEHOLD. A Spring Song. When all the world goes sweethearting— When all the world is young— In cowslip -time. in blackbird time, The waking fields among, Give me thy hand, my dearest love, Andecme abroad to see ; The land is full of love and hope— And soislife tome! The starling's love, in long, shy calls, -- Comes from the leafing trees; And thrush and chaffinch swell the tale 40 Adown the moist, warm breeze. See, primrose and anemone From the soft ground have sprung ;fp And the green earth is all in bud— For all the world is young ! Come, let us "smelithe dew and rain," Now it is overpast; For every breath is incense -fraught, The Spring i3here at last! And gone is Winter's long, dark night, And fair has dawned lne's day. Sweetheart, we never can grow old— lt must be always May! —[Marcia Tyndale. A Good Husband. A most delightful man, who is handsome enough to cause many a maiden's heart to flutter, and who is well enough off to be a suitable cause, in mamma's -estimation, for the fluttering was modest enough to affirm that he remained single owing to the fact that he did not feel capable of making a woman happy. This very statement re- vealed the truth that he would indeed be the man to make one of the best of hus- bands, and in consequence make a very happy woman of the girl he chose for his wife. It is not the man who is afraid he will not fill the bill in the matrimonial play that is the one that fails signally in the role. If he ever ventures so far and asks a woman to be 1 is wife she is pretty sure that her life will be pleasant so far as her domestic rela- tions are concerned. If his modesty is not assumed he will never quite recover from the surprise at her accepting him, and he will always regard her love as a possession that is exceedingly ,preciuus and mustbe carefully guarded Lest it slip away from him. No matter how many years they are mar- ried it will always be the same, and the modest, unassuming bachelor will prove the devoted, admiring husband to the end. On the other hand, the superb creature who considers that he bestows a little slice of heaven with the giving of his name is the one that is going to make a girl wretched. He feels as though perhaps he were too pre- cipitate in his wooing and shows her by his actions if he does not tell her in so many words that there were many other girls just dying for him. If money is scarce it will not be he that will suffer. His glorious form must be ar- rayed in gorgeous apparel his luncheons necessarily of the finest, and his cigars the best, though perhaps at home, his wife in a garment that may have been one of the dresses of her trousseau many years ago, eats warned over messes and does her own work. He, in his p-ide, considers it enough honor for any woman simply to bear his name, and if it were suggested to him that his wife was miserable he would not credit such a ridiculous statement. Girls, do not be deceived by the gay, showy men, who are essentially selfish and who could never love anyone as well as their own charming selves. Do not let the fine figure, handsome face and dashing air make you snub the quiet, modest chap who blush- es when you speak and appears a trifle stupid before the gay witticisms and flow of - talk of the more dashing rival. Themodest man is the one for the long race and, if your head is level and your heart in the right place, the evanescent charms of the one will be completely swallowed up and lost sight of in the substantial lasting character of the other. - Housekeeping Outfit. I would not get too large a supply, says a writer in the Housekeeper in giving ad- vice to prospective brides. I think the following would be a good outfit if I had to pay for it : Six sheets, six pair pillow slips (don't get shams, they are quite out of style), two cheese -cloth eomfortables, two blankets, two summer (light) quilts, two or three turkey -red or silesia comfortables and one or two nice bedspreads. For sheets get the Utica sheeting, two and a half yards wide, at from 22 to 25 cents a yard. It requires two and a half yards for a sheet. The pillow -cases should be made of fruit -of -the -loom muslin, 45 inches wide, which costs about 15 cents a yard and requires one yard per pillow. The cheese -cloth comfortables yon can make yourself. Cut the cloth in desired lengths and sew up seams, place as many layers of cotton- as desired between the cloth and fasten at regular intervals with, blue or red zephyr or Germantown. Buttonhole stitch 'or bind the edge. Your summer quilts you might make of,white twilled muslin, stitch- ed in some pretty design with the machine, or - you can take six -inch -square blocks of the muslin upon which work outline de- signs in red embroidery cotton, and around edge of blocks sew strips of turkeyred to form a border. Sew blocks together, line with turkey red and bind the edge with the same or with braid. When completed, your quilt looks like a lot of little pictures in red frames. This, however, would take more tune than you probably have to spare at present. You can make the silesia quilts too, but you can buy comfortables ready-made at all prices, from the turkey - red, calico on one side, at 98 cents, to the pretty sateens which come as high as $3.75, I like all white best for a bed and would advise you to get a white marseilles spread which sell from $1.50 upward, or evenna honeycomb spread would look better than none at all. - For your table you will need a cover of heavy white canton flannel, sixty-eight inches wide, which comes special for this purpose at from seventy-five cents a yard. Table damask by the yard is cheaper for ordinary use as are also the napkins, and therefore more desirable for you. Of course you will have to hem the two ends. As to the quantity and quality in this as well as in the towels, you must follow your own judgement and means. Tray cloths, doilies, carving cloths and scarfs can be added gradually. - A dozen toilet towels with a few Turkish. bath towels will probably be sufficient to start with. You can add to your_ stock gradually the same as in table linen. For the kitchen get the twilled crash/for dish towels and checked linen glass toweling at from 10 to 22 cents a yard, according to width. Also provide yourself with a few neatly hemmed dishcloths and dusting cloths. - Care for the Pace. It is said that good soap is a great beauti- fier and a great preventive of the uncomely looking " blackheads" which are such "a dis- figurement and are so hard to get rid of. The real cause of these unpleasant little specks is not, as a rule, anything more serious than this. Some people have much larger skin pores than others, and the dust collects, settles and finally forms a hard, black little substance which probably would never have had a chance of development if the skin was thoroughly washed with soap twice a dayand rubbed vigorously with a coarse towel. Do not be afraid of a red nose ; the redness will soon fade away and leave no trace. We will add that the face should be greas- ed well after the soap washing has been gone through with. A good plan to follow is ; At bedtime wash the face with hot water and soap, rinse thoroughly ; then " work in" by rubbing slowly and firmly the grease—cold cream preferably. This loosens the blackheads which are so snugly imbed- ded, and in the morning the soap and water will do better service upon a softened, pliable skin. Persons with rough skins will be amply paid for their trouble. It is tedious to be sure—weeks and months it may be needful to persist in the greasing. Veils are undoubtedly a contributory source of blackheads. The meshes become satur- ated with dust and exhalations most injur• sous to a ielicate skin. By constant friction they are rubbed in and settle in the pores and are sealed there by a black speck. Street dust is unavoidable, but it is much less harmful taken straight to the skin than through a veil. On a Point in " Cleaning Up" and Disease Germs. Every housekeeper or head of a family should know that the germs or spores of diphtheria and typhoid fever, as well as cholera and probably some other diseases, unlike those of scarlet fever, small -pox, tuberculosis and others, will take root, de- velope mature and multiply outside the living human body, or other living organism, as on or in collections --even very small collec- tions,—minute quantities of damp, organic waste matter. The typhoid bacillus for example, is cultivated in the laboratory on the damp, smooth surface c£ a cut potato. Indeed, it seems that typhoid fever is never communicated directly from one person to another, but that its germs must pass through another phase of existence outside of a human body after they have been cast off from the body of an infected person be- fore they can again take root in any other body. The same appea s to be the case with cholera. This phase of existence requires damp or moist organic matter with a certain degree of temperature, and, it may be, absence of free sunlight. Either milk or water not quite pure appears to be a good soil for these germs. A few years ago typhoid fever broke out amongst a small body of soldiers in barracks on the Contin- ent of Europe and in spite of what seemed to be every precaution in regard to cleanli- ness, there were from time to time for years recurrent outbreaks of the disease amog them. Eventually, however, it was found that the under or inside clothing of the men had not been properly looked after and washed as it should have been and that all spots of excreta had not been removed, but some had been allowed to remain on the clothing, and on or in these spots the germs had gone through their other form of life, whence they had reinfected the soldiers. After all the underclothing was regularly and carefully cleansed there was no further outbreak ot the disease. In " cleaning up," then, it must be borne in mind that minute quantities of dirt in certain conditions may harbour and even develope, from a chance germ or 'seed, the infections of some of these communicable diseases. House - Cleaning Now and Among the Ancient Jews : A Contrast. The Jews of Scripture history knew nothing, it appears, of the microscope nor of the nature of disease germs, but the Jewish housewife evidently felt more than does the modern housekeeper the importance of thoroughness in house sanitation. If she found a spot of brown or yellow mould growing upon the wall of her house, she did not simply wipe or wash it off, nor was she satisfied with what is now considered as doing all that domestic sanitation requires, the application of a coat of calcimine or whitewash, or fancy wall paper to paste over the walls. Instructed by the priest in reference to the danger of living in a house permitting the growth of mould, with the myriads of kindred germs which may am io the wife and compan each condition, moter of that period on the discovery o the patch of mould—the " plague spot," in her dwelling, immediately moved her family out of the dwelling, with all her stores— mats, rugs, blankets, robes, pots, cups, etc., probably into a tent, and the priest came in and looked the premises over, and instead of using a little carbolic acid or lime wash he brought his servants with trowels, shovels and baskets and laid bare the stone- walls of that house with such a cleaning and scraping as would astonish our modern civilization. - Mothers should bear in mind that in rooms, closets or corners which are not scrupulously clean and dry and in which air and sunlight cannot freely penetrate, mould spores will take root, and where mould spores will develope and grow, there the soil favours the development of such disease germs as diphtheria, whence they may be transferred to the little throats of the children. Almost a Eint They were walking under a very little umbrella, and she liked it well enough not to want a large spread of alpaca. He was modest, and seemed to be nervous, and she finally remarked very sofsly and with a tone of interrogation: "Charley, I'll carry the umbrella if you will let me." "Oh, no ! I can carry it." " Yes, Charley, but your arm takes up so much room that one side ot me is out in the wet." "I know, Fannie, but what will I do with my arm ? Won't it be in the way all the same ?" "I don't know, Charley. But Tom Clark always knows what to do with his arm -when he is under an umbrella with Mary Martin, because Mary told me so." The Luckless Poet. Young Seriblets is full of wonderment To know the reason why The poem: he sent so hopefully Brought back such curt reply. The editor wrote with brevity, And with a touch of scorn : " It's fellows like you that make a man Regret he e'er was born." But here is the cause—the poem read, "An Ode to Gentle Spring," And it chanced the day it was received To snow Tike everything. The tallest trees in the world are the gum trees of Victoria, Australia. In some dis- tricts they average 300 feet high. The longest prostrated one measured 470 feet, and 81 feet in girth near the roots.. THRUST INTO THE FIRE -BOX. How Engineer Scovel Got Rid of the Men He Had Run Down. Engineer Snal, told a story of hea Mexi- can railway ope tors dodge respeisibility. "Jinn Soovel," he said, "was running a freight en the Central and had a crew of conductor, fireman and two brakemen. One night about a year ago Jian was running through a big sheep and goat ranch. in the State of Durango, near Peralta, witven he saw two figures on the track near a switch. Be thought they were railroad men and blew for them, but they seemed dazed. Jim then saw they were greasers and he blew for brakes and reversed, but the train was on a down grade and there was no help for it. The engine struck one of the men and killed him outright; the other was shunted off into the ditch, and when they backed up he was still living but unconscious. His head was crushed, and it seemed every bone in his body was broken. Of course the magnitude of the affair impressed Jim Scovel. He knew he was 500 miles from home. Fortunately it was a freight train and the accident had occurred at night in an isolated place. The train crew got together around the tank of the engine to discuss the situation. They were in great doubt. Jim Scovel said the wounded man ought to be taken to the next station and he would take the consequences. But the conductor said that would never do —they would all be jugged. finally a brake- man, who had read somewhere once upon a time that in order to establish a charge of murder it was necessary to have a corpus delicti, suggested that it might not be a bad idea to dispose of the corpus delicti there and then. He looked significantly at the fireman, and the latter, taking the hint, proceeded to shovel coal into his furnace. Jirn Scovel objected to this, but finally gave way to the extent that the man, already dead, should go into the furnace, though he did not like to have the fire grates deluged with greaser grease. Then came another deliberation—as to the wounded man. He was yet unconscious, and his death inevit- able, but he still breathed. Jim Scovel put his ear to his heart, and said : " Boys, it will never do ; the man's alive." " Can't help it." said the conductor, " he'll never know anything again and we can't wait here." The brakeman who had discovered the corpus delicti theory agreed with the . conductor ; so did the other brakeman, and the fireman signified his acquiescence an shoveling in more coal. Meantime the myb who was already in the furnace had raisde the steam to that pitch where it lifted the safety valve and was blowing off in a way to drown all discussion. " Shove him in !" yelled somebody, and in went the man, who was yet breathing." Mr. Smith says that Jim Scovel after- ward told him that for the next fifty miles that engine wouldn't make steam. She was cranky and stubborn, and when they got to the shops they had to take her apart and clean her from piston head to fire -boy. But the corpus delicti was disposed of, and to this day probably the governor of that estate does not know of the incident. Whitewashing and Kalsomining. When the spring comes there is always whitewashing, and often kaisomining to be done. In the city, where one can send for a professional worker and put the whole busi- ness in his hands at a low price, the matter is easily attended to but in country districts this must be attended to by the housewjrfe her- self, or be done by the few unskiltui hands in her employ whose work will require her superintendence. The first thing to be done is to inspect the walls and zee if they a will bear another coat over the ore which has already been put on. If the wall has been whitewashed and has begun to chip off, it must be scraped before another coat is put on, and this is quite a serious undertaking. It means the removal of the old coats that have been put on the wall. We believe there are scrapers that come especially for this purpose. It is better to remove every- thing, furniture and all, out of the room to be scraped, as the fine dust of the old lime penetrates through everything. After the room has been thoroughly scraped, the new whitewash can be applied, though it is best to fill in or mend the boles in the wall with plaster of paris, wet with paste or water. It seems to us that the very best and sweet- est whitewash is made by mixing ordinary water, addingsimply salt slack -lime in pY enough to make it cling to the wall and bluing enough to give it a pearl -white tint. Ordinary laundry bluing will not do for this purpose. What is known as Mason's bluing is the very best to use, as it will go further and do better werk-andgive better effect than anything else. It is an easy matter to apply whitewash, and a good whitewash brush does not cost over 75 cents. It may be found in any country store. A kalsominer's brush is a more expensive article, and a satisfactory one may cost as much as $2. A kalsomine wall which is to be re-kalso- mined should be washed. It is impossible to apply kalsomine to a wall that has been whitewashed. It would look streaked and queer. An ordinary rule for l reparing kalsomine calls for ten pounds of zinc -white, mixed to a thick cream with warm water, half a pound of dissolved glue, all stirred together. The kalsomine must be applied while it is warm, adding a little hot water when it is too thick to spread easily. Old- fashioned kalsominers always spread their kalsomine on as painters usually spread their oil paint, evenly in one direction, row after row, and this is probably the easiest way for one to do who is not expert. It may be just as well for a beginner to use common whitening, which is less ex- pensive than zinc -white, and which is ap- plied in exactly the same wayn For side walls a pound of give instead of half a pound should be used. This is necessary to pre- vent the whitening rubbing off on the hands and clothes when they are brought in con- tact with it. This extra amount of glue will prevent all trouble for a year or two, but as there is nothing that will prevent old kal- somine from rubbing off, it is always best to gapes or paint the sides of a room. Where kalsomine is applied to a fresh plastered wall, it should be sized with glue and a kalsomined wall which is to be pape:ed should be treated in the same way. Curious Portuguese Custom. Among the Portuguese at Fayal, where I once spent a winter, writes Colonel Higgin- son, the young gentlemen were expected to wear black trousers to parties in winter, and white in summer ; but to decide on which particular evening summer began was the point of difficulty, so the young men would sometimes go to the house in black, with the white garments under their arms, ready to peep in through the window and take a hasty census of black and white legs. If the latter prevailed they would make their toilet afresh in the bushes outside. It was not a matter of social caste, for they were all of the same caste ; it was only a wish not to be singular. During the reign of Queen Victor'AGreat Britain has had fifteen wars, xl PETE✓, nORA it had been for in the little villa fall heir to Aunt she deied Thereen were her wh kin, iii the -first Marvale, an -ami: immensely prope bnen very dutif her invalid aunt. maiden, with sun curls, who taugh -mother's support it at all, she was some. She had for her aunt exce __prim old rooms b a saucy, inveigle self very much 1 l ; ve grounadydsit Miss Do pectation, so the thw bhenrat been aere life to charities, missio. trustees fully ex by Miss Marval bours knew too and pride of fa would not give h stitutions. Still went in favour 0 vale or the churc Ani now the Marvale was d solemnity and pr be.knowu who w of her fabulous had become, and terested friends sure, she had ne and no one in G money except in she was known t in her habits, amounts stowed The lawyer sa. rattling the imp Miss Marvale - looking pale, mel new and fashion, Peter Horace, a life had evinced money until is attentively near. Dot Mayburne in the uncompro stiff old sofa, with that appealed to presence. Wil penniless physic admirer, supper ing, of course, o. the church sat in or two "oldest spare corners of pan. After the usua that all of Mar moneys, and pe unconditionally thea Maybourne cant legacies Bertha Marvale, tionate attentio foot -stool. Its the fact that s the support feet, would ind- often expressed . wealth, she wo - dross. The whole fo one, after all, a. woman. And s eyes in wonder brightly upon gratulations. M. in her black-edg could tell how Rorace's fac ✓ The deacons loo word. Everyb. out of the way possible, and aloneI. hope, co make this hou- timidly. " You prise to me as of a home and not want you t0 • we all live toget "No we can ped Bertha, co pocket handker derhated cheat, charity from yo is not necessary Horace is ampl come to want," Dot retired, o intelligence, as should be. " I am sure I mured. " And friend, you will " Bother you irate lady, res' pense with each cannot ask you will take the li That evening a hundred tea- wonderings, an to and fro. W admire in Dot s of all the wealt oweed, why sh= man to Bertha, and so forth, w and left as ans- before. In a little m town Mr. Peter resting dejecte. eral air of forlo tude. He had self, his money, more than anyt woman had stir shirt -front whe bMean 3 it was pr yfsnr:e engaged himae elderly maiden the world.' mor footttooi,! What a-donk: had it come abo Marvale the he; upon? The old entirely acconn lived in the - ho, deemed her a p must have bu nom ehow. Then he bur stretched arms, again. Sudden Did not people romances, who them knock the by accident, or find them stuffe This was cert centric gif tF and missing wealth I sure existed to and paced Vara •