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The Exeter Advocate, 1897-2-11, Page 6A Dart Night's Wort By Paul Ingelow. (e0Natennere) Le Beitta took the train with an oppressed beart. Somehow, he felt WO lie was gong to meet disaster, that, armed with sonae power ticit yet fully developed, Durand would drive hint from the iled completely at their next inter- view. He had started on a quest, how- ever, and he would not abandon it, and be settled himeelf down in a seat to reflect, to formalate his plan of procedure If he found Gladys an inmate of the • villa, when a hand slapped • him familiarly on the shoulder, • "Iloilo, Le Brittal" spoke a bluff, hearty voice, and its ow'ner pressed into the seat without ceremony. It proved to be one of the visitors to the conclave, who, like Le Britta, was a photographer. They had net that day, and some Inc:intents were consumed in mutually • explaining how neither intended remaining for the last day's exerciees. Le Britta did not feel much like talk- ing, but bis companion was not to be -rebutted. He was a photographer of the old school, and while be was forced to acknowledge Le 13ritta's superior genius from the results it had ananifesay attained, they never met but he forced a heated and lengthy diseussiou as to the merits and detnerite f their respectite eysteme. lCW], Le Brit*" spoke the man, as they drifted into their usual theme of discussion, "you gall hold to your old idea that photography is an art?" "You know nee too well to doubt it." "And I continue to hold to the theoty that it is a business. I hold that pertain processes produue certain results; invari- able conditions, and results remain constant. Give xne a camera, I give you st picture. If people want line effects of light and shade, elegant surroundings depicted, and all that, let them hire a portrait -painter. Photography is a busi- ness. Taot and talent to advertise, to catch custom, ie the key -note of success. A woman wants a picture of her child. r take it. You high-aoned fellows make it look like an angel—nearly complexion, • sparkling eyes, unnatural pose, emotional features, What's the use of all that flummery? It makes more work, and a picture is a petiole, if it shows the face is it tot?" "Yes," reellati Le Britta, with a dry smile. "You nesent cover yourself with a • suit of clothes out out with a hatchet, but you wouldn't look well. You photog- raph a face in a blur of hideous brown, or an ugly back -ground of antiquated soreen-work. The face is there, that is true, but robbed of all attractions. I aim to have all the accessories in perfection. I believe in making the counterfeit presentment a gem, a treasure. Here is what perfect light can do, here is what proper posing can effect, here is what the right development of the negative can do. Step by step I try not to rob the picture of naturalness, but to enhance its naturality, to tone dewn harsh lines, to soften and illuminete. What is the result? We educate people up to a higher appreciation of the eervice, we cultivate the uncultured, we banish botchwork, • and. make of the family photograph album a gallery that vies with steel - plate range in fineneee, nieety of execu- tion. and gloss of fin'sh. I tell you, ray friend, that not one detail, from the merest shade on the bale to the printing on the back of the picture, should •be negleoted." "All right," was the quick reply. • "You please people, you educate them— what fore To make them demand more, •the more they get. • You aroduce fine pictures, they expect finer ones. You give them too xnueli for their money. Why, Le Britta I a photographer of the class you represent bas to think, study, work—be an artist and business man in one. It don't pay"— "It does pay!" interrupted Le Britta, pointedly. "There is a compensation in it all. We give the pnblio better work at •less money than in the past; for what reason? Because invention has aided us Ln the mission. We are not only working for our patrons, but for ourselves. Every •step we advance, we learn. E very experi- ment we succeed in is for our benefit, and that of the world as well. It is all well enough to make money, but how much greater to score a victory as an inventor, an improver, to give to tlae world some new process, some original discovery that beautifies or instructs? Look at the new photographic colors, the latest processes, the advancement in aaanipulathag emulsions, the new ways .of developing negatives, the benelit of sensitive printing paper! Why! I myself am experimenting on a new gelatine printing paper that will practically revalutionze the art in that line. You stick to the albumen paper, I suppose? Why? Because you blindly persist • in shutting your eyes to newer modes. You ,are tan years behind the times, Some !flay, a bright, energetic new -process man will come to your town,oPen a rival establishment, and. you will have to learn what I am forgetting, or abandon the business." "I begin to think lam a bit stubborn," be actraitted, finally; "but how do you keep posted on all these new wrinkles?" "By studying all current literature on the subject, by keepingin correspondence with the lights of the profession, by emulating and excelling the leaders in the photographic) art; most of all, by being in touch and. harmony with the • Association." "What Association?" , "The P. A.. of A." "Oh 1 you mean"— ' "The Photographers' Association of America." "Bahl A regular mutual admiration •, society. I don't allow any set of teen to diotate to me." "Dictate? Why, mean! join it, and if ssou have a bright idea, the various members willbe glad to have you dictate to therm I tell you, these photographers' conventions are a place 'where a man learns—an annual love -feast of the pro- fession that every rase man should ' attend. What are they? An aggregation •; of men with prograssive ideas, eaglet for. on interehange of sentiment, a great t body that formulates the trivial ideas of the art into defleite, centaalized form, so as to devote time and attention to • grander themes. You should attend just one convention! Here is a man with a paper on backgrounds—the result of °areal thought, study and investigation. Here is another with specimens of flash- , eight work. It is studied, analyeed, it instructs, it give e new ideas, it imakits ' you feel that you are tot simply aa ieolated picture -taker, but one ora geeat body of weave, intelligent men, who get out of themselves once a year in a harmonious exchange of sentiment and opinion, and return to routine work benefited, spurred on to do something great for the advance of art and. the eleteation and culture of the amasses. The man wbo preteuds to be an adept photographer, and is not a member of the assoelation is certainly outside a charmed circle that to -day surrounds the world with a ohain deoked with the • finest iewels of art, invention and pro - geese." Whether the enthuelastio peroration convinced his companion, Le Britta did not find, out, for the station nearest to Hawthorne villa was reaohed as he barely • concluded. Be felt refreshed at getting away froxn broodiug anxiety concerning Gladys Vernon, bowever, even if temporarily, and be walked toward the Vernon matsion ha the early morning light with a clear head and fixed plans as to his intentions. "Perhaps Gladys has gone to the lawyer or the doctor" he ruminated. "I will make the villa my first point of progress, however.' ! the servants are stirring," be continued, as he neared the house. Le Britta advanced tip .the steps and rang the bell. The echoes had scarcely died away when the door was opened. Ralph Durand had answered his ring. His face was flushed with drink, his eyes heavy and dull, as if he had been making a night of it. He scowled darkly. Then his face lighted up with a cunning, sinister expression. "Good! The plature-taker!" he jeered. Ahl I understand. You are a quick actor, my friend, You came Imre to find Gladys Vernon, my waed. You traced her hero?" "She is here, then?" breathed Le Britta. "Yes, she is here. Came in. There is no use quarreling with you, for I see a way to settle the whole affair speedily. You won't oall in a hurry again I Come in, I say!" And be led the way to the library. "Now, then, sit down." Le Britta regarded his host uneasily— this reception of him boded no favorable results. There was a oomplacent, satisfied look in Durand's face that showed that he felt sanguine on some new develop- ment of affairs. He lit a •cigar, dashed off a glass of liquor, and smiled familiarly and 'with insolent assurance at his unexpected visitor. "I'm right in supposing you have been looking for Gladys Vernon?" he began. "Yes," replied Le Britta, "I certainly have." "And you traced her here" "I supposed she had. come here, yea," admitted the photographer. "You were right." "When?" "A few hours since." "And she is here now?" "She is. See here, my friend, we will settle this whole affair here and now. There has been row and trouble enough. It will do no good to make any more. You may hound me down, employ detectives and all that, but I am in a position to defy you. You can positively prove tothing against me. As exeoutor of the Vernon fortune, as guardian of Gladys Vernon, I take formal possession of Hawthorne villa to -day. That shuts out prying investigation and interference. You have sought for Gladys Vernon, she is here. You have sought for her former lover, Sydney Vance. You will never find LILL You have tried to con- nect me with the murder of Gideon Vernon—a vain effort. You will return home and. abandon y ur meddling inter- ference now, I hope, for it will not avail you longer. Affairs have come to a basis." "What do you mean by a basis?" de - mended Le Bride. "I mean that Glades Vernon has seen the folly of her ways, has decided to obey her dead uncle's injunctions, and remain under this reef until she has attained her majority." Jere Le Britta leo ed dismayed. The statement seemed incredible, and yet the plotter spoke confidently. "You tell me this truthfully?" he demanded. "I do." "Gladys is here, returned of her own free will." "And consents to remain here will- inglye" "She dew" "I can Scarcely credit it!" "Ask her then." "Eh!" ejaculated La Britta, with a hopeful start. "I may see her?" "Certainly." "I may talk with her?" "As much as you wish." Le Britta had aroused to quick hope at the idea of seeing Gladys and conversing with her. • His heart sank, however, at the malignant triumph that glowed in Ralph Durand's face, predicted that he had some sinister aesign hidden tinder his new mask of ready acquiescence to the demands of an enemy. Ralph Durand had. proceeded to the door of the next roora. His hand on the knob, he lingered. "You wish to see Miss Vernon," he spoke, assuming a cool dignity of manner so foreign to his usual demeanor, that it was ombaously menacing. "Yes," replied Le Britta. Durand bowed and retixed. He re- turned at the end of five minutes—five anxious, fluttering re entente of suspense to the photographer. "Gladys—Miss 'Vernon" Jera Le Bride started forward eagerly. A great ory of joy escaped his lips as the doer opened and Gladys Vernon appeared, Durand following her. Her face was pale, her eyes downoast. Like one bound by a spell, under the domination of some powerful tyrant, she did tot look up. Her lips, tightly pressed, seemed to shut In the emotion that was tue,ging at her /acerb strings. • "-Wait!" cried Durand., in a mandatory tone, sharp, clear, resonant, as Le Britta was about to glide forward and seize Gladys' hand. "Miss. Verttot is exhausted by a long journey. She aidsme speak for her. Is it not so, Gladys?" The fair young girl shuddered slightly. Then, with icy, impenetrable reserve she nodded, "I told her you were here," continued the miscreant, • I have asked her if •she wished to see you. Her answer was—no!" "I do not believe it! She is under some terrible cotefteant!" barst forth Le Bette excitedly. ‘`Gladysl Mies Vernon tamale(1 Ana your iriend, the friend of your friends. I wish to tell you"— He paused. Gladys Vernon bad lifted her hautted, pained eyes to his face. "Go,"• s e spoke,in a low, wailing At pea°, "1 do notwisli to dlsauss the past. thor I ha-ve chosen my- future. If you aro my true friend, leave Isere, now and forever, for I shall refuse to see you again!" And then, half reeling, the turned from the room, leaving the petrified Le Britta overcome with consternetiot and despair. CHAPTER 'XX VII. —A T THE VILLA, Jera Le Britta 1..st Hawthorne villa with a depressed haute one Itour after We arrival there. The mournful words of Gladys Se had been decisive, the calm,' mock- deraeancir of Ralph Durand stmain the out of a Whip. The miseries/It triumphed completely, and the ph rapher was bound. to aeknowledge fact. Le Britta, with bowed head and thoughtful mien walked sadly 'toward the village. He found the lawyer at his home, and was soon closeted with in his library. • "I have just come from Haevtleorati villa," was Le Britta's fine statenaret, and the lawyer was at once interested. "Yon have arrived at an opportane season," stack.° Mr. lelunsou. "I have melee to tell• "Concerning Durand, I suppose." "You know that Gladys has returned .to Hawthorne villa?" "What!" The lawyer started as if dealt a sudden blow. Le Britta rapidly detailed his efforts to trace the heiress of Hawthorne villa, and the result of his late interview. The narration petrified the lawyer, "I oan scarcely believe it!" he mur- mured. "Gladys returned to Ilawthortie villa! Why1 if that is so, and I can only tea: with bee"— "She will refuse." "Refuse to converse with an old friend, her dead uncle's counselor?" "Yes, for Durand will compel her to do so. Do you not understand yet how subtle and far-reaching are the plots of this consummate villain? There is but one theory to advance on." "And that is?" "The certainty that he has Gladys Vernon's lover, Sydney Vance in his power." "A prisoner?" 'Undoubtedly." "Then"— "I theorize that he has him hidden somewhere in the vicinity of 1 villa, ‚or in the hands of paid emissaaes av a distance. Further, he has contineed Gladys that this is so. She saw the advertisements he published. While she would never have returned willingly, the dread that her lover might be raurdered, surrendered up to justice'coanpletely overcam e her. She returned to Hawthorne villa." "And that villain, Durand"— "Forced her to agree to carry out his wishes." "Which are?" "To refuse our friendly offers of assistance." "I see," "To remain there with seeming will- ingness." The lawyer reflected deeply. His facie grew stern. He related the discovery about the missing hundred thousand dellacs. Le Britta was surprised but enlight- ened. He understood now what the treasure amounted to which the tramp had located in the ravine. "Then," he said, "if the misseng money is not found, Durand is beaten completely?" "No, he is only handicapped." "I do not understand." "Why, if that amount of ready easb was in his possession, he would begin his fraudulent operations at once. He would pretend to invest with the aid ot• accomplices, he would dissipate the money, seemingly legally, but in reality to got it eventually into his own hands. As it is, the soheme will take more tizne to work." "How?" "He will claim that the mortgages cripple him; that he has not sufficient meats to pay interest and living expen- ses. He will sell the mining property at a ruinous saurifice, the villa, every- thing, anything, in fact, to handle ready cash." "But that will take time." ayes. "And time is all I ask!" spoke Le Britta, with ,determined eyes. "He holds the upper hand now. Wait!" Le Britta did not enlighten the law- yer as to his intentions, nor concerning his discovery of the hiding -place of the treasure. circuitous 'route, for his inspection of the mansion was to be a covert one. He had decided to watch at a distance, in the hopes of seeing Darand, theorizing that if. Sydney Vence was anywhere in the vicinity, tho plotter might go to visit him, and, by following, he might looate the refugee and captive, (TO •• itt eteareatutfh) RISKED HIS LIFE. mon An Oregon bezttler Who.SWItEll Torren ts Chia to SuFrettder ti dostice. g as "you need not send it officer for me. I lied will come when1 am wanted." otog- Vincent Sutton, postmaster at Ore - the town, Tillaanook eQunty, MIAS wanted for embuzlement by the United States authorities. A. plain tale, truly, and one whieh smaoks of the vulgar common- place, but mark the difference, This Sutton is a man of simple mind, and to him it seemed no herm would be done if he eked out the pi otance of his office of postmaster by adding the SUMS paid in for purchase of snowy orders, a matter . of some $855 when all was collated. He would make it good in his OWII time, and, in troth, be thought it no wrong. But the United States does not do business thus, and in due time there came an indictment, found by the Oragen grand jury. Sutton heard. Re eealized that be had done wrote,. He was ready to meet his punishment—aye, he was ready to go to meet it at the peril of his life. Nothing prevented if he those to leave the state. None could find hint in this bitter weather did he prefer to hide in the fastnesses of his own taackless mountains, but it came home to hhn, what he had tot Vealized when he took the mamma, that he had done wrong, and he alone must bear the burden, Now, this was nob a matter of walking down town to give yourself up to the police or the marshal. It was not even a matter of boarding a comfortable railroad coach to be hauled into Portland. Ore - town is; a lonely mem, buried deep in. the Oregon wilds, a round 40 utiles and more from a railroad station, with rag- ing rivers to be crossed between and, no road on which a horse may travel in this teeming winter season, when the whole countryside is soaked and sodden like a full sponge, deep with treacherous, un- fathomeeseas of mud. Forty-three miles on foot, awinming the swftling, wild, unbridled rivers, staggerhig along, through clinging mud, unable to lie down and sleep i8 his drenched olothes lest he perish of the cold, deprived of fire and liglat because the matches he carried were soaked, snatching a hungry bite by the way at the little store of food he had In his pockets, ell sodden and smeared with mud—this was the task that; Vin- cent Sutton' set himself because justioe must be done, and he must bear his part, though his life be foefelt in the doing. So it came that the simple tattled man of primitive mold sat down and wrote a letter to Marshal Grady, in Port- land, that he would come himself to the nearest station on the railroad, Sheridan, and there surrender to an officer of the law. No need to send a man to bring him In from his distant home. Let the officer come to Sheridan by a cerbain day, and ho would be there. Re kept his word, albeit more than once it nearly cost him his life. Sutton has a wife. Ho kissed her good - by and stuffed his pockets with thefood. which she, poor wonaan, had put up for him with loving care, enough to last him two days, it might be, on • the way to Sheridan. The Three rivers, triple them- derer in sooth, was booming with sullen, hungry Tone, turbid with swirling mud, carrying on its angry breast sweeping logs and jagged. roots, tone from their sockets by the searching flood. Five times it had to be crossed. by &atm on his way, swimming or wading or chanc- ing his life on a treacherous log. Once he was nearly smothered in a bottomless pit of mud as dangerous as the quiet, re- morseless • suck of a quid:salad that 'never gives up its dead. it was bitter cold, and he must keep afoot or. perish. But there is iron in this anapes blood, He had pledged his word,and he got there. Now, when this simple tale was told to Judge Bellinger, sitting in Portland as the representative of federal law; he, being a man, was troubled. in mind, for here was one who had set his life at the value of a pin fee that the law might have its way, and yet justice must be done and punishment meted as is set down in the books. Nevertheless there are degrees, and Judge Bellinger resolved that this was a case where it would not strain the (parity 'of justice were it soft- ened with mercy. Therefore he imposed •the loweet penalty, walch is imprisou- meant for six :months and a line equal to the sum which , Sutton appropriated.— Portland (Or.) Letter in San Francisco Examiner. He wished to investigate that branch of the case alone. More than that, he resolved, in ease be found the money, to withhold it from Durand's hands, if be had to retain personal secret possession of it until Gladys came of age. He correctly and readily surmised that one anotive Durand had in wishing Gladys' return was to learn of the miss- ing money, and he wondered what Durand's next move would be, when lie ascertained that the heiress yeas entirely ignorant concerning it. The lawyer had arrived at a common- place decision that they could only wait until something had developed, but Le Britta left him with a far more serious and definite thought in his mind. He had but one hope of ultimately defeating all the plots of Ralph Durand, and that was based on the recovery of the tramp. In case Doctor 1111ton brought him through his illness, and in case, furthermore, the tramp would give his evidence against Durand, the affair was ended. Tlae Gladys Vernon estate would forever be free from the plotter's wiles, Sydney Vance might return and face his fellow- men came more, and the efforts of the photographer to right a great wrong would be crowned with success. I3ut the tramp might not receiver. 1.1 he did it might be too late. Durand Was no lax schemer. He had Galdys Vernon in his power. Suppose he should foroe the girl to wed him; suppose he should dispose of what little wealth the mortgage • had left it sight; suppose he should do away with Sydney Vance, for the testimony of the latter on the witaese- stand would alone convict Durand, were i,t not not that Vance was himself • suspected of the crime of killing old Gideon Vernon? ,:The tramp is eafe with Doctor Mil- ton," mused Le Britta, "the hidden money is in the ravine, and I hold the clue to its whereaboute. Sydney Vance is the element of mystery in the case. How cat 1 get/ an inkling as to his place of incarceration!" Le Britta was wearied from his long quest, and, going to the hotel, he sougbt the met he so needed. • aighteall he darted again for Haw- ne villa, He _app./a/meted it by a Saved Eris Eye. A man 62 years of age was admitted to one of the London hospitals. He bad lost his left eye seven years before. The right had always been myopic and had especially troubled him during the last three months. The pupil was Oval and reacted to the light; the iris was teemed ous; the lens was opaque and. floating freely in the vitreous, but never came through the pupil into the anterior chamber; TIS1011 was imperfect, but was improved by aid of a concave 'lens. The eye gave myopic refraction to the opthal- moscope; there was a ,larger posteroir sta,phylorna and extensive changes in the ohoroid in other parts; the lens when at rest lay on the retest dependent part of the eyeball. The patient was determined to have an operation performed, as he was gradually losing sight. • An attempt was first naade to transflx the lens with a cataract needle inserted behind the iris and extract it, but the • attempt failed. Six days later the patient was turned on his face, with his head projecting over the end of an operating • tablean which position the lens rested on the hack of the his. The operator sat upon the floor, had the eye illuminated by an ordinary opthalmoscopic mirror, made a small flap section upward and removed the lens. A small quantity of • vitreous was lost. The patient was turned over, the eye bandaged and washed. His recovery was uninterrupted his vision ranch improved. As a recent surgical work contained the statement that "a lens lyine,e in the vitreous can rarely be extracted with safety to the eye," it is interesting to know that it has lately been so easily done.—Exchange. During the past year 112,160 persons wore arrested in New York city, 550 less than during the previous year. Of this number 73,537 were held for trial. There has been a decrease of 7,700 arrests for nais- deineanore, T.he number of epeeists for being drank and disorderly was 60,906, or an increase of 500 over 1895. WHY BANNER; ARE }RED. A socialist Explains the laleatilleg of 11— ttie Eiebioin or aegenerittiose The editor of Justice London protests againet the view that the death of many revolutionaries is to be conunemerated by the crimson hue of the emblem of revolu- tion, for if the loss of blood gave the right to raise the red fiag, the lerotestants slaughteeed. by Catholics and the Catho- lics slaughtered by Protestants might llaTe an equal right to claim that red is the proper color for their flags. 1 -le than gives an original and somewhat idealistic expltuuttion:— " Those who have not yet quite shaken off the barbarism of the past may like to think that our flag is red because of the blood the peoPle have shed and are ready to shed again for the cause. The more philosophical nand will prefer to thilik that one flag is red because red is the color of fire, and fire is the great purifying and reetenceating agent of the universe. Without heat motion is im- possible, vegetable and animal life cane not exist, 'minerals cannot be fused, salts cannot crystalize, existence cantot be. By fire all is purified, by heat the world is regenerated. * * Thus the annual regeneration of the world is brought about by the sun, by heat, by fire, which in all time has been represented by the red that colors our flag. Nor is this em- blematic meaning confined to one nation; it applies equally to the whole universe, to every living creature; therefone red is the true color for an international flag. * 'I. N. R. I.' might as well be in- scribed on our flag as on the banters of the Christian church. By the ignorant fanatic these letters may be interpretect as metinitak,, Testis Nazarenus Rex Iudeo- rum, though Jesus was never King of the ,Tews, but we should know that these letters mean Igne Nature Renovatue Integra, and wheu we thus say that nature is entirely regenerated, by fire we proclaim a truth which none eon deny, and eve select as the color of our flag the color, of lire, because we also intend to regenerate the world." Dangers .0f the Role attic A prominent physician says he feels it a matter of duty to warn bicyclists and the public generally against the use of the kola nut. This drug was virtually unknown two years ago, but be judicious advertising, in which was emphasized the wonderful staying pewee derived by savages on their long lilints in the forest, from the kola nut alone, the drug has become popular, and is now put up in every conceivable shape, pale, tablets, still and sparkling wines, and in oombin- atien wall other drugs, principally quin- ine and, cocoa. The terrific power of kola may be tuiderstood from she fact that it contains three times as much caffeine as coffee. It is this thatt makes it dangerous. Tleere are coffee drunkards. The kola chamlsarcl is just three times as pitiable an object, and escape for him is just three times as difficult. Kola was taken up by people who would never mislay° themselves to ram or opium, because it was announced as a stimulant without reaction. That is the sheerest nonsense. There must be reaction from the exhilar- ation of any stimulant. The first effect of kola is hardly noticeable. The man who takes it simply feels refreshed, but after eight or ten hours, the heart's action is increa,sed enormously. Then, later, in the habitual kola drinker or eater, there is the lassitude, the nervous weakness and the tremulbusness that ensue from overdrinking. The difference is that with kola, the reaction domes on more gradually. Tho VISO bicyclist, who is wheeling not only for this year, but for many years to come, will let kola in all its forms severely alone, It is in the insidiousness of the drug that the danger lies. It does away with the fatigue that along biosale aide brings, and a "pill," or a nip at the tinyllask will add greatly to the pleasure of a day's run. Before long, the nut comes to be relied upon, and from that stage the development of the slaver is easy. The effect of the kola itself is aggravated by the alcohol which is used in making it into a liquid form. Many a wheelnaan, who would not drink, alcohol, does not know that in taking kola to fortify himself, he is getting "rum" just the same, The important point for the public to bear in mind is that while kola is in many respects a most valuable and useful drug, they rust not suppose it ie harmless, but must regard it with the same suspicion, find use it wilh the same caution, as they would opium or morphine. who Use or Atimsthetlos. The employment of the juice of the poppy or the mandrake, and of other narcotics to diminish sensibility is very old. Herodotus (fifth century B. C.) tells us that for this purpose, the Seethians used the vapor of hemp seed. It is even maintaited by some that the early Greek physicians produced hypnotia insensibilify before operations. Pliny, who died A. D. 79, says that a decoction of mandragora (mandrake) is taken before cutting's wad ptuneurings, lest they should be felt." Diosoorides, of Cilicia a physician of the second century, says in his book on Ma- teria Medica, that mandragora "causes insensibility (anaesthesian) in those who are to be out or cauterised." According to a very ancient Chinese manuscript, the physican, Hon-thow, used. to give a preparation of hemp beiore operations, to prevent any pain being felt. In medical books of the llth and 12th centuries, we read of preparations, the smelling or in- haling of which caused insensibility in, patients about to be.operated upon. The indiscriminate use of anaesthetics by quacks made them fall into disrepute, and their use seems to have almost died eat when Sir Humphrey Davy began in 1800 to advocate the use of nitrous oxide as an anaesthetic. Little notice vette taken of his suggestions, or of other similar ones for some years. However, in 1844, Dr. 'Wells, and in 1846, Dr. Morton, both American dentists, began the use of ni- trous oxide and ether in dentistry with great success. In 1846, thepractice began to spread in England and on the contin- ent. In 1847, Sir James Simpson, of Edinburgh, began the use of chloroform which rapidly saperceded the others. Story of a Sicilian Tragedy. A thorough piece of work in the emo- tional tragedy line was mantle done in Novara, in Sicily. A young woman who had been abandoned by her lover Maimed Iser mother to help her to avenge herself, and the two, putting on men's clothes and armed witli daggers, lay he wait ha a path, along witich the lover was to pass. They Maned to death the first person who came along and then dike:levered that they had killed the weong man. It was the brother of their intended victim. The lakber appeared soon, however, and at once strangled the mother. The daugh- ter then jumped bato a pond near by and Was drowned, Thereupon the lover cut his own throat. FAMINES IN INDIA. Accords of Some of the Most Destructive lu Pollee)? Use. . With an overcrowded population of 200,- 000,000 of peasants whose annual supply of food depends upon a rainfall subject to decided irregularities, it is inevitable that India should suffer from frequent and destructive famines. Meteorological observations have disclosed no rule of periodicity in these failures of rainfall by wi ice seasons of drouth can be forecast with certainty. They have, on the other hand, established the fact that the fall is note either deficient or excessive in any single year throughout the whole of India. There is thus always a reserve of food supply in some part of its area, which may be drawn upon for use in the needy districts. It has been discovered, too, that winters marked by an excessiv,e snowfall in the Himalayas are always fol- lowed by diminished summer rainfall, generally in Northern India, but some- times in other portions of the (treat pen- insula. Apart from these few facts, gathered withinthe past quarter of a ceuttery, there is little data haft which seasons of drouth may be foreoast, though it is known that a drouth, once begun, generally extends over two years or more. The approach of scarcity can be deter- mined only in the year in which it actu- ally cactus, and by a system of observa- tions beginning with the June rainfall and continuing until the autumn has made certain and insufficient supply for the winter crops. Of the extent of the suffering from drouth and crop failure in theAsiatic world Western people have but a faint conception. In the great droubhs in Northern China in 1877-1878 no less than 9,500,000 persons perished; and al- though during the present Century alt least no siugle famine in India, bas at- tained that magnitude, it is estimated that in the score or more disasters of the kind ,which have occurred, between 15,- 000,090 and 20,000,000 lives have been lost. net Whicla began in 1875 and cul- minated in 1877 was the most prolonged and destructive, resulting in the death of 5,500,000 persons. In 1865-66 a third of the population of 8,000,000 starved to death in Orisso, and in 1868-1870 about 1,500,000 died from want in. Rajputana. The famine of 1861 in the northwest provinces was a huge calamity, and the Berea drouth of 1878-71 was only pre- vented ftrom becoming so by lavish ex- penditure on the part of the Indian Gov- ernment. Prior to the white conquest famines of hronense dimensions devas- tated the peninsula, resulting occasionally in an appalling decimation of the feebler classes of the population. These classes, numbering approximately 40,000,000 are always so near starvation that a season of drouth reduces them at once to ex- tremities of hunger, In the old days tae devices for famine relief in India were of the usual Asiatic sort. First, the shops of the grain dealers were sacked and their owners murdered. When that failed, the offices of tbe native governments were besieged, and when the royal granaries were emptied the gods wore propitiated with sacrifices, ending with the slaughter of human victims and the distribution of their flesh over the barren fields. But during the past thirty years these devices bare given way to eemedial measures of a more practical e and effective kind.. Taught by long ex- perience, the government of India has elaborated a system of relief, machine- like in its operation, capable of being put into effect at any time, and of adjust- ment to the needs of any particular searcity. The old notion that a eovern- anent can not be made responsilile for death from starvation any more titan for deaths by fever has disappeared. Every rural official is made to feel his responsi- bility, and is minutely instruoted before- hand as to his particular duty in each stage of scarcity. First, a system of crop forecasts gives notice of the possible ap- proach of faatine. When the possibility becomes from further reports probability, the government begins active preparaions to meet it. Its forecasts may tob prove correct, but it acts once and energetical- ly, knowing that if it waits to verify its estimates action will be too late to be effectual. An Eastern Toilette. An eastern lady of high degree spends an amount of time over her toilet that would astonish the most American fash- ionable society lady. First, she has her hair dressed by her maid, mem, after brushing and. anointing the long siny black locks with a little oil made from aloe wood or cocoanut, arranges it simply Lan long, smooth plait, low on the nape of the teak, and decorated either with gold or jewelled ornaments. Next, the bath is prepared, as hot as it can. be borne, and in this the lady may stay as long as two or three hours. Soaps are not used, but instead, there are multi- farious unguents, secret preparations of the bathing women, which render the skin soft as velvet, and delicately per- ftuned. Oftettimes the face is washed overnight with milk, into which has been squeezed lemon -juice. Although the eastern women use many cosmetics fo t Improving the beauty of their complex e. ion, and darken their eyes and brows, they do not interfere with the "lateral color of their hair. This is left in its original blue -blackness, and may be con- sidered their chief charm, The hair of Oriental women is usually beautifully long, soft, and glossy, and the way they ttrrange it is invariably becotning in their ..i.ofti type of beauty. Perfumes are much indulged in. These are introduced in the bath, and permeate the garments, but are rarely used on a handkerehief, as is the custom with western nations. She Wants Tier Brother, While unpacking a saniple order of chinaware from Germany the other day Frank C. Young, a Second street im- porter, discovered a blue envelope tucked away in a vase. On opening it a lettet weitten in German was disclosed. Being an expert German scholar, Mr Young translated the missive, which read as fol- lows: "To whom it may concern: My brother, Wilhelm 131etzner, left Gaels- bady, Germany, two years ago for Amer- ica; where he intended to engage in the china business. After .a 'short time his correspondence abruptly ended, and after that all our letters 'were rettualed un- claimed. I am a packer in a china house , and have been placing these note ' tt every order to America in hopes that they m g t be seen by my brother or some one that knows him. Trusting that the person who findsi this will convey any information which would aid n • ' main, very truly, Cora Bletzner, Carls- bad, Germany."—Philadelphia Record, Stole Church Carpets. • Two churches of Jasper county, have been visited by thieves, who stole even the carpets of the aisles and pulpit platform.