The East Huron Gazette, 1892-04-21, Page 6it
DR, SABINE'S PATIENT.
CHAPTER III.
A CLAIMER nF HOPE.
Snow Ile the ground, white and dazzling;
now on the roofs, walls, doorsteps; snow
on the bare, leafless trees and lawns of gar-
dens—everywhere the white, ghostlike un-
reality of snow.
That was what a beautiful girlish face,
with eyes overshadowed by an awful horror,
looked out upon the morning of that Christ-
mas -eve each time she came to the window
in her restless walk to and fro—to and fro—
the whole length of the spacious room, her
fingers ceaselessly twining in and oat each
:they.
" You said he would come early, doctor,"
she said, in a rapid apprehensive way—
"you said he would come early, to be all
Christmas."
" It is quite early yet, my dear," an-
swered Dr. Sabine; "and he is quite sure I ..No, my dear. The doctor said not, un-
to come to you, you know. I showed you less you or Isabel wish it, or the gentlemen
his telegram from Dover, you remember, desire it."
but it was too late to come here last night, "Don't leave me, Albert!" pleaded the
of course." girl, nervously.
" And you are sure he hasn't killed Al- go away, you knew"11. "e might kill you if you
bert? How like—like— Who was it that "I will stay then, darling, if I may.'
was murdered?" she said, so suddenly, and He turned to Mrs. Sabine again :
for the first time using the word, that even " Kindly ask the doctor not to introduce
Sabine scarcelgrepressed a start. me by name ; you, understand wh "
"We won't talk of such a dreadful thing, " Quite." y
my child," he said, She left the room ; and Claremont, too
"OIs ! yes, we will '—she put her hand to haughty to challenge notice from men who
her forehead, then pushed it through the might shrink from him as a murderer, drew
clustering locks of gold—"because this was back into a position in which, es the visitors
me. Ah!"—with an impatient frown—entered, be stood in shadow.
"it's gone so—it's gone so. What is that?" Isabel glanced wistfully in her lover's
A light tap at the door, and a nurse's face, but said nothing. Either somecurious
voice saying, quietly:working in her brain, or the mere intuition
"You are wanted, please, sir.99 ' of the true woman's love, male her dimly
"it is Albert!" cried Isabel, grasping the conscious that he wished to be unnoticed.
doctor's arm—"it is Albert!" She only resumed her seat, waiting. Then
"If it is, my love, you shall see him ve rythe visitors were heard in the corridor ° but
goon; but yon must stay here for him, or I
must call a nurse. Will you promise?"
"Yes—yes; I won't stir."
Dr. Sabine knew she would not disobey,
and, with a nod and a smile, went out.
"Mr. Claremont has arrived, sir," whis-
aered the nurse outside. "Shall I sit with
Miss Guest?"
"No, thanks, not now."
And he went down quickly.
Warm was the greeting between the eld-
gr and younger man after these eighteen
mouths; the latter had to hear that the be-
loved patient was certainly much better in
wealth, and the brain plainly stronger,
ttrngeling against the shock; as she had
ust now shown, the elder had to learn Al-
bert's odd meeting with Winton, and the
possibility of a clue thus obtained.
There certainly was a man who, if he had
not paid Guest, had an interest in his
death.
" We'll talk it over later, dear boy," said
the doctor. "I won't keep you now, and
if Isabel asks you any questions, I can, I
think, trust to your discretion. By the way,
I shoulcl not wonder if the commissioners
In lunacy make their visit to -day."
" What—to-day—Christmas-eve ?''
" Yes ; it was about their time last week.
They should be here before Christmas—two
if them and a secretary. Be off. If they
:erne now they will see the other patients
first and Isabel last."
" Do you know them ? Have the same
commissioners come before ?"
"Yes, old Mr. Hampton and Mr. Grave;
their old secretary has died since their last
risitation, so there will be a new one this
Sime. Now go up to Isabel."
Claremont knew the room well enough,
tnd if he paused a moment at the door, it
was to gather himself together as it were, it
was such joy, yet bitter pain, to meet his
betrothed again—such doubt, yet hope ; but
the would know him this time. He opened
bright, shrewd eyes, ana close -trimmed
moustache and beard that became him very
well, as perhaps he knew, though hia man-
ner betrayed no vanity. On the contrary,
during the visiting of the four patients, the
doctor noticed that he was rnacsuming,
quiet, and, notebook in hand, kept judicious-
ly in the background as he took shorthand
notes of questions, answers, or remarks, as
his duty required.
Whilst the gentlemen were conversing
with the last of these four patients, Mrs.
Sabine entered the apartment where Isabel
Guest and Albert still sat. He sprang up
to meet her at once, as she exclaimed:
"My dearest boy, 1 should have come be-
fore, but I was so engaged, and I knew you
had better company. Now, the doctor has
sent me to say that the commissioners are
here, and coming this way directly."
"And I must retreat then?" he asked.
just outside the deep voice of Mr. Hamluh
the senior commissioner, exclaimed :
"How stupid of me ! I have left my
glasses somewhere ! 1 do believe, in my
ulster. Mr. Forrest, will you kindly step
down to the hall, and look in the pockets ? "
"Or perhaps in the dining -room," added
Dr. Sabine. " Perhaps Mr. Forrest will
hook."
" Thank you, doctor, I will."
Someone went downstairs, and Dr. Sabine
entered the room with the two barristers.
With graceful ease Isabel rose to receive
them as they came forwards.
"I am glad to see you again," she said,
with her sweet, pathetic smile. " I hope
you are quite well, and wish you a happy
Christmas."
"Thank you my dear Miss Guest; the
same to you. What a pleasure to see you
looking so well ! Why, we shall find you
gone, I expect, next time we come," said
Mr. Hamlin, with a side glance towards the
tall figure in the background, that made the
doctor say quietly, en passant, as it were :
"A young friend of mine and my patient's,
come for Christmas. I am very glad you
find Isabel looking stronger."
"Oh, not the same being at all ! And I
suppose, Mise Isabel, as devoted to the
doctor as ever, eh? Nothing to complain of?"
smiling, as well he might, on so fair a face.
" Oh, how you will jest ! "
" Well," said the other gentleman, Mr.
Graves, "it is better to laugh than to cry.
Isn't it, Miss Guest ? "
Whilst they were speaking, just as ivlr,
Graves addressed her by name, the secretary
quietly entered, unnoticed at the moment,
save by the doctor, who was on that side of
the room, and Claremont.
Forrest looked quickly towards Isabel as
her name was spoken, doubtless struck by
the perfect outline of profile presented as
she faced the commissioners ; then his glance
caught sight of Albert's, gave him a second,
the door and entered softly. , more intent look and lifted his brows a
" Albert 1 0, Albert !" little in mildly -surprised recognition ; then
She sprang to her lover's open arms and moving to a side -table, put on it the spec -
flung herself upon bis breast with that pas- tacle-case he had fetched, and said in a quiet
sionate cry. undertone to Dr. Sabine :
" My darling—my own Isabel ! There is
thee to live for, come what may !" Albert
said, pressing his lips to hers again and
again, and then for minutes just held her to
his throbbing heart in silence. She was so
beautiful, she was so physically recovered
and like her old self, that it wai hard to be-
lieve the mental balance still was wanting,
save for that look in the eyes that told such
a sorrowful story :
Then he drew her to a sofa and sat down
by her ; but before he could speak, Isabel
laid her soft cheek coaxingly against his,
and whispered mysteriously, with a subdu-
ed eagerness that startled him.
" I want you to tell me something, dear,
that I haven't asked even t1r. Sabine. I
was afraid, because I slipped away and lis-
tened inside the big greenhouse. You won't
be -angry, will you?"
" Withyou, myheart—impossible ! What
is it ?" tenderly caressing the gold head.
"Bend close then—so. Who was it that
was murdered lone ago? And who was it
they said had done it?"
Claremont held his very breath for a sec-
ond, so intensely was he internally startled.
" How do you mean, sweetheart ? Tell
me what you heard and I shall be able to
answer your questions."
"I was in the hothouse, and the coach-
man and gardenor were talking outside the her right hand at the secretary. " There
door, which was ajar ; I heard them say stands the man who murdered Rolf Guest !
something about someone who," she staid- There stands the assassin of my brother ! I
dered, and the horror in her eyes deepened,
" who was murdered, and a gentleman they
said was ---Ah, what is it, I mean ?" she
said, piteously, " it all goes—goes !"
"Accused—tried for it,dearest,' suggest-
ed her lover, trembling for the end of
this,
" Yes, that was it. I knew you could
tell, dear, because of the trouble in your
face. 0, the misery—the misery and hor-
ror of it all !" she cried, clinging,shuddering,
to him.
.01esrly memory was stirring the brain,
ronsingand connecting its buried knowledge
with himself, but he folded her closer and
soothed her agitation by tenderest words
and t eac t ove can dictate, till present -
"Pardon, but s'irely that gentleman is
the same—such a marked face, and I was in
court —who was tried—"
" Yes," said Sabine, shortly, vexed at the
recognition : " and acquitted, remember."
"Ah, yes, of course, pardon me."
"That you, Forrest? Got my glasses?"
said Mr. Hamlin, turning round a step to.
wards him.
" Yes, Mr. Hamlin."
The secretary took them up, came for-
wards, and handed them to their owner with
a bow.
As he moved from the gloom into the full
light of both windows, Isabel turned, as one
naturally does towards a moving thing, and
her eyes rested on his face for one moment,
with a wide, startled look, through all their
habitual horror.
Three of those present saw her with
bated breath—her lover, the doctor,
and Mr. Graves. In the next second
there swept over that young face such
a change as no man could ever see in it
again ; for, suddenly, like a flash, the full
noonday blaze of light burst through the
awful veil of insanity, full reason glowed in
that terrible gaze of recognition, quivered
in every line of that beautiful, avenging
face.
At last !—at last !" she cried, pointing
saw him do the deed 1"
"By Heaven ! what I thought !" mutter-
ed Albert, instantly at her side.
But the man so suddenly, so terribly ac-
cused, staggered back as if a pistol shot had
struck him, livid to the lips, struggling to
speak, his starting eyes glaring at the wo-
man, who stood there still pointing to him.
" Good Heavens ! What does this mean?"
burst out Mr. Hamlin, horrified and be-
wildered.
And with a desperate effort Forrest ral-
lied.
" Itmeans," he said, hoarsely, "that that
poor creature is raving mad instead of bet-
ter, as Dr. Sabine affirmed."
h tha 1 Somehow, by one common instinct of
ly sly was listening eagerly to his tale of things, all those four other men present left
what he had done and seen abroad in his the accuser, the murdered man's sister, to
answer : each felt, each new that madness
was passed away, and Truth revealed.
" It means," she said, and the low, stern
tones vibrated through the room like a knell
of doom to one at least—" it means that
whereas I was driven mad by the awful
sight of murder done, now I am made sane,
in Heaven's justice, by the sight of the
murderer, who all this time has suffered this
guiltless man"—she laid her hand on her
lover's now--' to bear the doors cf his awful
crime !"
",` Gentlemen," interrupted the secretary,
with some dignity, ' "if you are going to
gravely listen to the unhappy ravings too
plainly aroused by the sufferings real or not,
of this lady's lover, permit me to retire, as I
decline to be made their object."
But Claremont: strode to door, and set
his back against it.
"Pardon me," he said, sternly, " you only
pass out under arrest, Pierce Bovill."
It was.a daring shot, sent in the assump-
absence; and seemed to have forgotten her
questions; which, in fact, he had not ans-
wered et
CHAPTER IV.
"rums ABT T i3 MAN. '•
Dr. abine's prognostication about the
commissioners in limey was quicaly ful-
filled by their arrival.
For obvious reasons it is the rule that
these officers of law should not give notice
to those in charge of insane patients, which
alto' therefsea, nnezpeeted by days, or even
weeks; -though -4'f course something of the
period when .they may be calling gets to be
. known, ay experience; hence Dr. Sabine's
remark, which had scarcely been uttered
• �` half an hour, when he was summoned to re-
ceive tfrn- two commissioners and their new
secretary.
This gentleman was introduced as Mr.
&larkFOrr.st, &fair !slhn, well with
tion suggested by Winton's information, but
it told, for the secretary stood for a moment
as if paralyzed.
"Yon speak in a riddle, sir," he said, re-
covering himself ; " my name is Forrest,
and you, I am forced to suggest, have a dis-
tinct interest in trying to throw the onus of
that crime on another person. Gentlemen,
that man is Albert Claremont !"
Before anyone could speak Isabel Guest
stepped forwards, and no one looking on the
girl then could for a moment believe her to
be still insane.
"I understand all now," sho said, with a
concentration and passion that belong only
to sanity. " I see fully what I heard meant
that Albert Claremont has been tried for the
murder that man—your secretary gentlemen
—committed —acquitted legally — cruelly
condemned morally. I now stand forward
as the accuser of the real assassin—whether
his name be Forrest or any other. I witnes-
sed the deed unseen myself. Hear me, and
then say if I look or speak like Dr. Sabizie's
mad patient, or like a witness risen as it
were from the dead."
Forrest drew back to a chair and sat down
folding his arms close across him, but he
said nothing—his lips were parched and
livid.
" My brother," Isabel went on, steadily,
"had refused Mr. Claremont's suit—wish-
ing me to marry very wealthily ; but," and
now the soft cheek flushed, and her dark
eyes glowed with noble pride in her love
and lover, " I had given my heart and troth
to Albert Claremont, and I knew he was
coming that fatal day to tell Rolf—my
brother—that he intended to wed me,
whether he consented or not•. I was in my
boudoir above the library, where they were
and I heard high words pass ; then I saw
Albert leave by the French, window and
walk rapidly away eastward towards the
lodge. Shortly afterwards Rolf also step-
ped out, muttering angrily to himself, and
strode away in the direction of the old
copse near the fern -brake. Meaning to
speak to him, to -plead, and if that failed,
tell him I meant to marry Albert as I had
promised, I stole downstairs and followed
Rolf."
She paused and pressed her hands against
her breast.
"I stopped short behind a mass of bushes
a little distance off, half afraid to go on just
then, for he had paused, I saw, near the
treesand looked so angry: then he took
out his pocket -book, looked at a paper he
took from it," Claremont gave Dr. Sabine a
look, "and stamped his foot with an oath.
The next minute I saw - Heaven can I ever
forget !—a man come out from the trees be-
hind Rolf—that man before you. I saw
every feature clearly as he drew a revolver
and shot my brother in the back. 1 saw
him call on his face, saw that man take the
pocketbook quickly from his victim's breast -
pocket, abstract a paper, replace the book,
and steal away. I stood frozen, paralyzed.
I felt something going from me, and I re-
member no more, but I must have reached
my room in the madness that the shock of
that awful scene brought. What that
paper was, or the motive of the crime, I do
not know, but I swear to that man as Rolf
Guest's murderer !"
"And I, gentlemen," said Claremont,
"have a witness in London who can
supply motive and identity—one George
Winton, a jockey, who knew this
oi-disant Mr. Forrest as Pierce Bovill,
a betting man"—how the man had started
—"who owed Mr. Guest a large sum of
money for which he had given an I. O. U.-
that was the paper taken—that the motive
of the crime. Dr. Sabine, will you send for
the police ?"
•
It, was not till all the necessary formal-
ities of the secretary's arrest were over for
that day, and they had returned from the
police -station to the doctor's house again,
that Claremont and Isabel were alone, and
then even, folded to her lover's heart in a
wild ectasy of happiness, it was difficult to
realize in fulness that she was no more what
she had been since that terrible day of the
murder; difficult to realize that the long -
borne dread weight of such a deed was at
last to be removed from his head to that of
the real criminal ; hard to believe that he
might claim his darling as bride before the
face of the whole world.
O ! it was a happy Christmas indeed for
all, even though chastened by the memories
that could never die -when can memory
whilst brain and heart throb?
And when, in the gloaming of Christmas -
day, the doctor and his wife, and the two
young people, sat round the blazing fire,
Isabel would be told all that had passed
with Albert, listening as she nestled within
his arms, whilst the flickering shadows
danced to and fro on the walls in the fire-
light.
" Oh ! what you have suffered !" she
whispered, shuddering.
But he answered, softly :
" it is all over and repaid now, my dar-
ling !"
" there is one puzzle," said Dr. Sabine,
" how the fellow escaped, so quickly as both
you and the gamekeeper arrived on the
spot." .
" He was sharp and daring," said Isabel.
" I think the only way he could have escap-
ed was by crouching in the fern till alt were
gone, and then walking quietly off across
the country to the n ext station. You see,
I know the country."
" He must have intended," said Albert,
"to hide till night and watch fbr the chance,
that came after all in broad day. I wonder
if I had been condemned if he would have
still kept silent? I think he would, seeing
what he is."
" H'm, yes ! I hope your jockey will not
fail to pick him out in the police -yard to-
morrow ,• my dear boy."
" Winton was very positive, doctor ; I
no not fear he will fail myself," said Clare-
mont.
Nor did George Winton fail, for—though
the secretary was amongst a dozen others
—he walked straight up to that one man
and said, decisively :
" That is Pierce Bovill."
The day after that the prisoner was
brought before the magistrate ; he simply
denied the charge of murder and identity,
and reserved his defence, but finally he was
committed for trial.
That was indeed a notable trial, and the
Central Criminal Court was croe ded. All
the world remembered the trial of handsome
Albert Claremont for that very same mur-
der, and those who had believed him inno-
cent crowed loudly over their astuteness
as they listened to the weight of evidence
piled up, which demolished the prisoners
defence that the witness Mies Guest was
mad, and that he was not Bovill. '
The judge and jury thought otherwise,
and with reason, and the grim verdict
"Guilty" was recorded, and sentenced to
death was passed on the wretched man.
In court he brazened it out to the last
but three weeks later, the day before his
exeoutien, he confessed his guilt to the
chaplain, and asked him to beg the forgive-
ness of Albert Claremont and his just -wed-
ded wife, whom his deed had for so long
made " Ds, SABINE'S PATIENT."
jTsa END -1
GIANT PINES.
Trees Which, Like a Majestic procession,
Stretch for Lilies and Miles in the Aaa-
tralasian Forest.
[From the London Globe.]
The kauri pine is undisputed sovereign of
the Australasian forest. -No other tree can
approach it in grandeur of proportion or in
impressiveness, when, as one of a clan, it
holds as its own stretches of country hun-
dreds of miles in extent. Perhaps the sight
which a kauri grove presents to the eye is
unequalled in the whole realm of nature.
As the traveller gazes around him in the re-
cesses of the forest he is impressed even
against his will.
To walk between those mighty pillars,
smooth and dark as ebony, uniform in age
and size, and buried in a perennial twilight
and silence that the wildest storm only
disturbs by the merest ripple of sound,
awakens a feeling of awe.
Mile upon mile they stretch into distance,
in a majestic procession that follows every
irregularity of the land, like some colossal
temple dedicated to night or melancholy,
the sombre aisles full of an awful monotony
and a solemn stillness.
Like the Egyptian `sphinx, they ignore
the lapse of time, preserving the same ma-
jestic calm and unvarying expression before
the cataclysms which have altered the whole
aspect of the globe, and before the social up-
heavals which have swept away civilizations
as if they had hever been.
If geologists be correct New Zealand is a
fragment of a continent which sank beneath
the waters as the new world rose. it is a
relic of a bygone age.
The youth of the oldest kauri groves is
therefore shrouded in the mists of the past.
But that they are very ancient is beyond
doubt. They were mere saplings when the
Pharaohs adorned the land of Egypt with
i.nperishable memorials of their power, and
were still slight and graceful when Solomon
filled the East with the fame of his glory ;
they stood in all the pride of maturity when
Hannibal crossed the Alps, and Rome enter-
ed on her victorious career.
They have seen the splendid dawn of all
the great empires of the world,. and seen
them seat in gloom, when the canker of de-
cay had sapped their very foundations.
But the kauri has now fallen upon evil
days ; its closing years are full of danger.
It has survived to see the forms of life, long
dead in the great masses of land, fade away
before the vigorous fauna and flora of an-
other order of things.
At no distant date it also, like the natives,
the birds, the grasses, will have passed in-
to the measureless oblivion from whence it
came. In the presence of this venerable
giant pine of Maroiland, the grandest repre-
sentative of a primitive age, the colonial, a
creature of yesterday, feels like- a pygmy,
as he gazes on the solemn files on every side.
As though ashamed of his own littleness
and painful newness, he is possessed only
with the passion of destruction.
The weirdness inseparable from the very
nature of a kauri forest is intensified by the
total absence of animal life. The contented
droning of insects, hum of the bee, theglad
singing of birds, so distinctive of the nixed
bush, are never heard beneath the umbrage-
ous canopy which excludes the radiant
southern sun.
The kauri reigns supreme in its own do-
main. Nor is there the enchanting diversity
of ordinary • )hush—the palms and the
tree ferns, the shrubs and the pro-
digal wealth of beautiful parasites, whose 1
bewildering variety is unrivalled even to
the torrid zone. '
With the e.cception of a living carpet of
delicate maidenhair, which attained a
height of from five to six feet, and the ropes
of creeper ferns 'which swing from tree to
tree like fairies in the castle of a giant, the
forest is altogether bare of undergrowth.
In the woods of recent growth, however,
vegetation is more luxuriant.
The long tendrils of the clematis and rata
connect trunk with trunk in garlands of
white and scarlet boom, and at their base
flourishes an infinite variety of ferns, while
here and there a graceful tree -fern rears its
silvery -lined crown.
It is a curious sight to English eyes to see
a groupe of young kauris standing dark, tall
and erect against the pale blue and gold of
the sky and the lighter greens of the back-
ground of forest. Like all the species, the
dome is out of all proportion to the height.
But their doom has been spoken. The
axe of the lumberer and the whirr of the
sawmill resounded in the land and the earth
quivers with the shock of falling patriarchs.
With the recklessness of the spendthrift
the New Zealander is spending his heritage
and before- another 50 years have passed
away this noble tree will be ns extinct as
the moa.
But to really bring home to the mind the
stupendous size of the Colonial_ oak, as it
has been called, it must be compared with
the largest trees in the islands.
In England there are several elms 70 feet
high and 30 feet in girth ; oaks 80 feet high
and with trunks 40 feet in girth, and in
Scotland there is an ash 90 feet high and 19
feet in girth. But these are regarded as ex-
traordinary and grow in solitary grandeur.
The average girth of trees in Britain is
not more than 12 feet nor the average height
above 50 feet. But in New Zealand there
are miles of kauris whose average height is
not less than 100 feet and whose girth is
not less than 30 feet and 40 feet. The larg-
est kauri yet discovered was 70 feet in girth,
and the trunk was 200 feet high. ,
The Farmer of the Future.
" The only hope of the future farmer
will be in his brain," says Gen. Rusk.
" The sharp competitions between sections
and countries which will be induced by in-
creased facilities for transportation will stir
the agriculturist up to his best efforts. His
chances for fortune -making will be great,
but he will have to be prepared to fight the
battle of competition for them. He must
be sufficiently well educated in science as
far as it is applicable to agriculture, and he
must be intelligent enough to study his sur-
roundings and to apply his knowledge to
the conditions about him. He will be able
to meet his fellow -citizens on an equal
footing, and his brains will command from
his elass in the. industry which he repre-
sents, the respect and consideration which
he deserves, and he will give other classes
and other industries due respect in re-
turn. The farmer of the future will be a
business -man, able not only to compel his
soil to do its best in the matter of product-
ion, but to study the markets and know
what will sell the best and what will aim -
emend the highest price. This farmer will
keep his accounts like any other business-
man, so that he may know exactly where
his profits are and where have been his
losses. These are strong qualifications but
they are essential to the farmer who would
do his business on a broad plan and sho
would succeed. As to the question of his
education, when you consider that he must
have a knowledge of all the principles of
animal and plant life, that he must under-
stand the const:tuent elements of soils and
fertilizers and tiat he must have some know.
ledge of meteorology, chemistry and the
other sciences closely connected with crop
raising, you will see that the ideal farmer
of the future will have to be not only a
brainy but a well-educated man."
Ho, For the Kankakee.
Ho, forthe marshes, green with Spring,
Where the bitterns croak and the plovers
piWhere the gaunt old heron spreads his wing,
Above the haunt of rail and snipe;
For my gun is clean and my rod's in trim,
And the old, wild longing is roused in me
Ho, for the bass -pools cool and dim !
Ho, for the swales of the Kankakee!
Is there other joy like the joy of a man
Free for a season with rod and gun,
With the sun to tan and the winds to fan,
And the waters to lull, and never a one
Of the cares of life to follow him,
Or to shadow his mind while he wander
free? -
Ho, for the currents slow and dim !
Ho, for the fens of the Kankakee!
A hut by the river, a light canoe,
My rod and my gun, and a sennight fair -
A wind from the South, and the wild fowl due
Be mine All's well. Comes never a care.
A strain of the savage fires my blood,
And the zest of freedom is keen in me ;
Ho, for the marsh and the lilied flood !
Ho, for the sloughs of the Kankakee!
Give me to stand where the swift cur rent
rush,
With my rod all astrain and a bass corning
in,
Or give me the marsh, with the brown snipe
aflush,
And my gun's sudden flashes and resonant
din ;
For I am tired of the desk, and tired of the
town,
And I long to be out, and I long to be free ;
Ho, for the marsh, with the birds whirling
down!
Ho, for the pools of the Kankakee!
—[Maurice Thompson,
Spring Poetry.
There came a day of showers
Upon the shrinking snow ;
The south wind sighed of flowers,
The softe ing skies hung low.
Midwinter for a space
Foreshadowing April's face,
The white world caught the fancy,
And would not let t go.
reawakened courses
The brooks rejoiced the land ;
We dreamed the spring's shy forces
Were gathering close at hand.
The dripping buds were stirred,
As if the sap had heard
The long-deairel p:•rsuasion
Of April's soft command;
But antic time had cheated
With hope's elusive gleam ;
The phantom spring, defeated,
Fled down the ways of dream.
And in the night the reign
Of winter came again,
With frost upon the forest
And stillness on the stream.
When morn, in rose and croedi
Came up the bitter sky,
Celestial beams awoke us
To wondering ecstacy.
The wizard winter's spell
Had wrought ss passing well
'i'hat earth was bathed in glory,
As though God's smile were nigh.
The silvered saplings, bending,
Flash cd in a rain of gems:
The statlier trees attending
Blazed in their diadems,
White tire and amethyst
All common things had ki,,sed,
And chrysolites and sapphires
-Adorned the bramble stems.
In crystalline confusion
All beauty came to birth :
It was a kind illusion,
To comfort waiting earth—
To bid the buds forget
The spring so distant yet,
And hearts no more remember
The iron season's death.
--[Charles G. D. Roberts.
Three Doves.
Seaward, at morn, my doves flew free.
At eve they c ire 1. d back to me.
The first was faith ; the second, Hope ;
The third—the whitest—Charity.
Above the plunging surge's play.
Dream-like they hovered, day by day,
At last they turned, and bore to me
Green signs of peace through nightful gray.
No shore forlorn, no loveliest land
Their gentle eyes had left unscanned,
'Mid hues of twilight heliotrope
Or daybreak fires by heaven -breath fanned.
Quick visions of celestial grace
Hither they waft, from earth's broad space,
Kind thoughts for all humanity.
They shine with radiance from God's face.
Ah, since my heart they choose for home,
Why loose them—forth again to roam?
Yet look; they rise! With loftier scope
The wheel in flight towards Heaven's pure
dome.
Fly, messengers that find no rest
Save in such toil as makes man blesti
Your home is God's immensity ;
We hold you but at his behest.
The Czar and the Kaiser,
A St. Petersburg correspondent says:—
The following story reaches me from a
good source, but I give it under all
reserve : —After the German Emperor's
late speech, a gentlemen who was
present remarked that, whilst his Majes
ty was confident about coming glory, he
should not forget that Russia was behind
him. William II. retorted:—I will pulver-
ize Russia." General Thovaloff heard this
story, instituted inquiries, and, finding it
was true, reported the matter to M. de
(tiers, who repeated it to the Czar. Alex-
ander III. sent for General Schweinits, and
said to him—"Tell your Kaiser, when he
wants to begin pulverising, I will throw
half a million men across the frontier with
the greatest pleasure." There is nothing
intrinsically improbable in this anecdote,
which pretty accurately represents the pre-
sent state of feeling. In reference to the
statement that there are 300,000 mounted
troops in Poland, I am inclined to believe
the figures to be exaggerated, but there can
be no doubt whatever that every available
Cossack from a considerable number of cav-
alry divisions is now quartered within easy
distance of the frontier.
Poetry Advancing in }rice.
AlfredTennyson, when a very young man.
had a longing desire to visit the highly in-
teresting churches in his native country of
Lincolnshire, but to use his own words,
" the eternal want of peace seemed to make
the projected tour impossible." An elderly
coachman, whom his father used to employ,
being a man of resource, one day said :
" Why, Master Alfred, you are always
writing poetry. Why don't you sell it ?"
Pleased with the idea, Alfred consulted
his brother Charles, also e poet, and the re-
sult was the first publication of anything
written by the laureate in the book entitled
"Poems by Two Brothers," each brother re-
ceiving for the copyright £10. The manu-
script is now valued at more than £1000.
Irish Humor•
A provincial citizen, for the purpose of
arresting attention, caused his sign to be
set upside down. One day, while the rain
was pouring down with great violence, a
son of Hibernia was discovered directly op-
posite, standing with some gravity upon
his head, . and fixing his eyes steadfastly on
the sighOn an inquiry being made of
this inverted gentleman why he stood in so
singular d de, het s :
"i sinantryinattitug to read thatansignwered."
HOW FALSE HAIR IS OBT,LsED-
Mucb of it Comes From the AA Darrell
of Paris.
The best false hair comes from France,
where it is soli by the gramme at prices
which vary according to quality zed color.
The most expensive false hair is the eaves
white variety, which is in great iennand
and very difficult to find. This is due to
the fact that men grow bald in a ajerity
of cases before their hair reaches ale. antes
white stage, and women, whether bald or
not, are not disposed to sell their white
hair at any price. They need it them-
selves.
Still women growing bald must have
white hair to match the scant allowance ad-
vancing age has left them. The chemists,
have taken the matter in hand and are able
to produce by decloration of hair of auy
color a tolerable grade of white hair, which,
however, has a bluish tint not at all ap-
proaching in beauty the silver softness of
hair which has been bleached by nature.
False hair in the ordinary shades is ob-
tained in two ways. The better and more
expensive kind is cut directly from the
heads of peasant women, who sell their silk-
en tresses sometimes for a mere song and
sometimes for a fair price, ac:ording as
they have learned wisdom. Every year
the whole territory of France is travelled
over by men whose business it is to per-
suade village maidens, their mothers and
aunts, to part with their hair for financial
considerat ions.
These men are known as "cutters," and
there are at least 500 of them in the country,
always going from house to house, from
farm to farm and through all the villages in
all the departments, seeking akibjects for
their scissors. A good cutter averages from
two to five heads of hair a day, and he pays
from 2f. to 101. for each. It is estimated
that a single head of luxuriant hair weighs
about a pound.
The false hair thus obtained—at the cost
of the tears and regrets of marry foolish
maidens—is the finest in the market, and
sells for an exaggerated price, which puts
it beyond the reach of the ordinary purchas-
er. Besides, it is evident that the supply
of genuine "cuttings" must fall far short of
the demand for false hair. So the majority
of this wavy merchandise is obtained—yes,
ladies, I am exceedingly sorry, but it is the
fact—from the rag -pickers. These busy
searchers of the ash heaps and garbage
barrels collect every day in the City of Paris
alone at least a hundred pounds of hair
which some hundreds of thousands of women
have combed out of their heads during the
preceeding twenty-four hours. This hair,
all mixed together and soiled, one would
think, beyond redemption, is sold to hair
cleaners at from $1 to $1.50 a pound, which
shows simply that the fair sex in one city
alone throws away annually about 300,000f
worth of hair, for which they afterward
pay—and it is the same hair, mind—con-
siderably over 1,000,000f.
The cleansing of ti is refuse hair is an
operation which requires careful attention.
After the hair has been freed from ire dust
and dirt and mud and other unpleasant
things with which it has cone in contact
in gutters and slop buckets it is rubbed in
sawdust until it shines once more with its
pristine gloss, and then the process. of sort-
ing is begun. In the first place skillful
hands fix the individual hairs in frame with
the roots all pointing the same way, and
then they are arranged according to color.
Finally, when a sufficient number of hairs
of one color have been obtained ---nor is this
number so immense as is generally supposed
—they are made into the beautiful braids
which are shown so seductively in the win-
dows of fashionable coiffeurs. If, as the
good book says, wisdom goes with the hair,
she who places on her head one of these
conglomerate braids might be said to receive
a portion of the wisdom of hundreds or
thousands of other women who had worn -
those hairs before her.
It is said that the " cutters" in France
have plied their trade so industriously that
at present it is hardly possible in the whcXe
republic to find a women who will sell her
hair. The business has been done to death
and now the enterprising dealers in false
hair are sending their representatives
through Switzerland, Belgium and Norway,
canvassing for unsophisticated lasses who
will allow themselves to be robbed of their
hair which is half their beauty, for a few
pieces of silver.
A Terrible Weapon.
The following item from an English scien-
tific journal is of interest as showing the
awful destructive power attained by the
marvellous progress in gun building during
the last half of the nineteenth century:
" The heaviest inodern ordnance is the Eng-
lish 100 -ton gun.. Its charge is 760 pounds
of best prismatic gunpowder, and the
cylindrical steel shot weighs 1800 pounds.
At last test this enormous shot penetrated
entirely through compressed armour (steel -
faced iron) 20 inches thick ; then through
iron backing five inches thick ; then it
pierced wholly through 20 feet of oak, five
feet of granite, and 11 feet of hard concrete,
finally tearing three feet into a brick wall
No existing fortress, much less armoured
vessel could withstand such a shot."
The Sowing of Glover.
If clover seed is to be sown with spring
grain, barley is much preferable to oats. It
does not exhaust the soil as oats does, and
though its leaf is much broader than the oat
leaf the crop is cut and out of the way a
week or more before oats can be harvested.
If the barley ground is fall -plowed and the
grain sown or drilled in without plowing in
spring, the clover seed will catch better and
make a better stand. The a„periority of
winter grain for a spring ca:,eh of either
clover or grass seed is due to the fact that
the seed falls on a surface mellowed and pre-
pared by repeated freel , and thawing
through the winter.
The Biggest Kite Ever Made.
The biggest kite in the world was made
in Durham, Greene County, New York,
about a year ago. It may be taken as the
biggest kite ever made. The frame consist-
ed of two main sticks 28 feet long, weighing
each 100 pounds, and two cross sticks 21
feet long and weighing 75 pounds each ; all
of these sticks were 2x6 inches in dime,
sions. Over this frame work was stretched
a great sheet of white duck 251'18 feet, and
weighing 55 pounds. The tail e,f, the kite
alone weighed 50 pounds and ceat-tained 155
yards of muslin. Twenty-five hundred feet
of half-inch rope served as " kite strings."
This plaything cost $75, and whom it mount-
ed into the air it exertetb. a lifting
power of 500 pounds. Six meronce per-
mitted it to ascend 1,000 feet.
Eight hundred men are on strike in the
Michigan ore mines.
The paddlers and rollers of the Ohio Gal-
ley, to the number of 10,000 me , ?treaten
A�
to leave the Amalgamated erc etior-. of
Iron and Steel Workers and redrganize the
Sons of Vulcan.
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if you w
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and now
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quish us
see if th
is no lon
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tribes to
told the
pact bet
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and I
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and the
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and the
send any
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and a co
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