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His Heart's Desire
By SIR WALTER BBSANT
"Very well." mid David. "But you
can't touch the money without the pa
pers, eaa you? Without talking of thoae
coupons for the present, what should you
cay supposing I was to show you now —
this minute- —one of the other papers that
were in the box?"
"Do you mean It, David? do you mean
"I mean businuess, uncle. I mean sell-
Ing, not giving."
"I suppose." said Daniel, trying to
preserve a culm exterior, but trembling
down to the tips of his fingers —"I sup
pose, David, that the man who has the
box hns communicated with you becaus»
he thinks you are my enemy?"
"You may suppose no, uncle, If you
"Papers stolon from me —papers the
unlawful possession of which would in
sure him a long imprisonment V"
"Just ai you like, uncle. Only -don'l
you see? —at the first mention <>f the
word 'imprisonment' all these papers
■wnulii be dropped into the fire."
"Show me —prove to me —that yoo
know something about the box."
"I am going to prove it to you." Da
vid left the door and mum back to the
table, standing over his luncle. "What
■will you give me, I ask you gain, for
only one paper out of the box, just to
prove that the other papers exist?
"What paper is it?"
"You shall see; one of the papers that
are worth nothing. I have actually got
it in this packet, and you shall have, it
If you give rue ten pounds for it; not a
penny less—ten pounds. If you refuse,
and I have to take it back, ten pounds
worth of the coupons shall be torn up
and burned. Te-ffIOHOW I shall come
back and make the same proposal, aud
the next day the same, and every day
that you refuse you shall have ten
pounds' worth of those coupons burned.
When they are all gone you will be
"Oh! I don't know what this man
means'" the old man cried in distress.
"Nephew, I am getting tired of this.
Hhow me the paper if you have it with
you. and I will tell you what I will do.
l'ut it into my hands."
"Well, I don't mind doing that If
you tear it up I shall want the tea
pounds just the same. It doesn't matter
to me if you tear up all the papers.
Now"—he unfolded the brown paper
packet—"what do you think of this?—
The last will and testament of Daniel
He placed it in his uncle's hands.
••This is a precious document, truly,"
said Daniel, "a valuable document. Why,
man, I've maiiu another will since."
"I don't care how many wills you have
made. I dou't care whether it is valua
ble to you or not. To me it is ten
pounds. Tear it up or burn it, just ns
you like. But ten pounds."
"You nre a demon, David. You were
only a fool when you went away. You
have come back a demon."
"Who made me, then? You. Come,
don't let us talk any more. There is
your paper. Give me my ten pounds and
I will go. To-morrow or next day, just
as I please, 1 shall come back."
Daniel Leighan'e hands trembled and
he hesitated. Bat he did not doubt his
nephew's words. He know that the box
had been somehow recovered, and that
the papers were within David's reach,
if not Is his power.
He opened his desk and took out of it
one of those little round boxes which
are mads for bottles of marking ink. A
sovereign just tits into those boxes. Be
kept one in his desk filled with sover
eigns. Mary went over to Moreton once
a month to get the money for him. He
held this box tightly in his left hand, and
began very slowly to count out ten
"Here, David," he said, with a heavy
•lgh; "here Is the money. If you hail
read this will you would have found
yourself put down for something good.
Well, so far I forgive you. But don't
tempt me too much, or you may tiud my
real last will and testament a very dif
ferent thing. You aro uiy nephew, Da
rid—my only nephew—and I've got a
good deal to leave."
"As for my inheritance, uncle, I am
going to take It out of you bit by bit —
a little to-day and a littlt to-morrow. I
shall enjoy it better that way. I think
that's all. Oh, no! You may be t«.uk
mg to charge me with unlawful posses
sion of your property. If you do, the
whole of the papers will go into the fire.
Remember that! And now, uncle, I
think I've done a good morning's work.
Take care not to talk about this little
matter to any one, or It will be the worse
for you—mind, uot to Mary or to George
or to anybody. If you breathe a word,
all the papers go into the lire."
When Mary came in about one o'clock
to clear the table and lay the cloth for
dinner she found her uncle In a very
•urprising condition. He was in tears.
Daniel's papers lay untouched upon the
table, and he had turned his head unto
his pillows, as Ahab turned his uuto the
"Why, uncle," cried Mary, "whatever
U the matter?"
"1 wish I \va« dead, Mary! I wish I
was dead aud buried, and that it was all
over! I would rather be ill. I could
bear any pain, I think, better than this."
"Then what is it? You are trembling
Will you take a cup of tea?"
"No, I can't afford it. I oan't afford
any luxury now, Mary. You will have
to watch over every penny for the fu
"What has happened, then?"
"I am a miserable man. I have been
miserable for six years, thinking
my papers; but I always hopod to find
them. Now they are found—that is all.
They are found, and I never rfally lost
them till they were found."
"\Vh«re were th«y. after all?"
"I cannot tt'U you. Slary. I only u «ard
to-da/ — by po#t—b/ a letter —not by
word of mouth—thnt they are found.
And they are. in the hands of a —<>f a
villain; a villain, Mary, who will rob
me of I know not what, before I get
them back. iVon't nsk me any more,
don't tell any one what I have said. I
must hare told some one, or I should
have died. Don't speak to me about it;
I mast think—l must think. Oh! never
in nil my life before did I have to think
He could eat no dinner; this morning's
business had taken away all desire fa
food. He made pathetic allusions to the
"Conic, unrle," said Mnry, "you will
make yourself ill If you fret. You have
said for six yean that you had lost this
money, and now you find that you really
have loHt it, and you cry over it us if it
vu a now thing. Nonaenae about the
workhouse; you are as rich as you were
".Mary." ho said, "David has been here
again. He nays it Is all a judgment."
"All what, uncle?"
"All the trouble that has fallen upon
me— the fill! from the pony, the loss of
the papers, the very paralysis; be says
it is a judgment for my taking his land.
Do you think that it is a Judgment,
Mary? Perhaps I was hard upon the
boy: but one couldn't stand by and see a
beautiful piece of property going to rack
and ruin without stepping in to secure
it. If I hadn't lent him the money on
mortgage, another would; if I hadn't
sold him up, another would—and it is all
In the family; that's what David ought
to think, and not to come here swearing
and threatening. If it is a judgment,
Mary " He paused for a word of
"Well, uncle," she said, "we are
taught that we bring our sufferings upon
ourselves; and bo surs, if everybody wan
good, there would be a great deal less
suffering in the world. Nobody can deny
"But not such a lot of judgment, Mary.
All this fuss because J)avid had to sell
his farm, and I bought it.' I can't be
lieve that. Why don't other peopls get
"Patience, uncle. Think—whatever
happens now about that money, that it
was lost six years ago."
"Ah." you keep on saying that. You
don't understand what it is to have the
thing you had despaired of recovering
dangling before your eyes and then taken
away again. What does a woman under
stand about property? David laughed.
There's something come over David. He
Is just as slow as ever in his speech,
and In his ways, but he's grown clever.
No one could have guessed that David
could go on as he went on here this morn-
"What has David to do with it, un
"With the property? Nothing, Mary,
nothing," he replied, hastily. "Doa't
think that he has anything to do with
it." lie groaned heavily, remembering
how much, how very much, David had
to do with it.
'Tan I do anything? Can George do
"George would like to see me wrong'
cd. It is an envious world. There is
one thing he could do. It seems a big
thing, but it is really n little thing. If
George would do it, I would—l would
—I would—no; because I should only
lose the money another way."
"You menu you would give your con
"No—no; I can't do that. I couldn't
yesterday ; much less to-day, Mary."
"Well, what is this thing that George
could do for you?"
"A villain has got my property, Mary.
Qtorga might go and take it from him.
If I had the use of my limbs, I'd dog
nnd watch the villain. I would find ,it
where he had put the property. 1 would
tear it out of his hands if I could get it
no other way. Old as I am, I would
tear it from his clutches."
"George can hardly do that for yon,
uncle. Especially when you refuse y.mr
consent to our marriage, and aro going
to driTe him ogt of Ridcote, as you droye
l>avld out of Herry."
"It's business, girl; it's business. How
can I help It?"
"Well, then, unel«, if you are in reel
trouble, send for George, and let him
"George, advise— me! Mary, m 7 dear
when I begin to want advice of any roan
•end for the doctor and order my coffin!
I might use George's arms and legs; bat
my own head is enough for me, thank
you. There is another way," he said
"But I doubt whether you hare sufficient
affection for your uncle to try that way."
"Is it something that I could do? Of
course I will do it, if I can."
-Will you? It's thi«, girl. Hukl don't
tell anybody. It'a this: David has got
n secret that I want to find out. Now, 1
his roice sunk to a whi*p«r, "Darid was
nlwa.Yg very fond of yon, Mary; and he
Is that sort of a man as a woman can do
what ahe pleases with him. Pretend to
let him make lore to you— pretend thnt
you are in love with him. Wheedle the
secret out of him, and then tell me what
"And what would George say while I
was playing this part? Uncle, if you
hare such thoughts as that, you may
expect another judgment."
He groaned, a good deal shaken and
agitated. Then he dropped asleep. But
his slumber was uneasy, probably by rea
•on of his agitation in the morning; his
head rolled about, he moaned in bis
sleep, and his fingers fidgeted restlessly.
At four o'clock he woke up with a start
and a scream, glaring about him with
terror-stricken eyes, just as he had done
"Help!" he cried. "Help! He will
murder mi-! Oh! villain. 1 know you
bow] I will remember— l will nmtmb r
—I will remember!" Here the lorr >r
went suddenly out of his eyes, an! lit
looked about him in bewilderment.
"Mary! I remembered once more. OU!
I saw no clear—so clear! —ami now I
hare forgotten again. Tail is the sec
ond time that 1 hare see a in uiy dream
the man who took my papers and m;
gold— second time! Mary, If it comes
again, I shall go mad. Oh! to be so
near, ad* to have the villain in my grasp
—and to let him go again! Mnry. Mary
i —the lot* of the money, and the dream,
f and your cousin David —all together—
will drive me mad!"
CHAPTER XVIII. I
This was truly an auspicious evening
for mo to present myself with my newly
recovered bag. However, ignorant of
the morning storm, I walked along,
thinking how I would give the old man
an agreeable surprise. His room, when
I called, about eight o'clock, was gloomy
an.i dark. Mr. Leighan wyis hitting
still and rigid, brooding, I suppose, over
David's terrible threats. J
"What do you want." he cried, sharp
ly. "What do you come here for? I
am in no mood for Idle prating.'.'
"I am come on your business, Mr,
Leighan, if you call that idle prating."
"Tell it, then, and leave me. Young
man," he said, pitifully, "I am old now,
and I am in grievous trouble, and I
cannot see my way out of it. Don't
mind if I am a little Impatient."
"I won't mind, Mr. Leighan. Mean
time. 1 have come to please you." |
"You can't. Nothing can please me I
now, u2less you can make me young and
strong, an.! able to throttle a villain—
that would please me."
Then I began, will) Hie solemnity with
which one toads up to a dramatic situa
"Six years ago, Mr. Leighan, you said
that you had been robbed of a bag with j
twenty pounds in it." I
"A bundle of papers and a bag with
twenty sovereigns. I did. Good heav
ens! one man comes in the morning about
the papers, and another in the evening
about the money. Go on, go ou— l can !
bear it all."
"There is nothing to hear, I assure I
you, Mr. Leighan," I said, a little net-}
tied. "Was that bag of yours a brown
canvas bag with your initials D. L. on
"I thought so," he replied, strangely.
"So you, too, are in the plot, are you?
And you are come to tell me that I shall
hare the bag back without the money,
are you? George, I suppose, will appear
next with another piece of his conspir- ;
acy. You are all in a tale." j
"I think I had better finish what I
have to say as quickly as possible. You
are in a strange mood to-night, Mr.
Leighan, with your plots and conspira
cies—a very strange mood! Is this your
I produced it and gave it to him.
"Yes, it is the bag I lost. I never lost
brut one bag, so that this must be th«
:>ne. As I said —the bag without the
money. Well, I don't care. I have had
greater misfortunes— much greater. You'
have come to tell me that the bag was
put into your hands."
"Not at all. I found the bag; I found
t on the top of Hnmil Down, bidden
reside the Gray Wether Stone."
"Very likely." Ho tossed the bag!
iside. "Why not there as well as any
)ther place, when the money was one*
)Ut of it?"
"Mr. Leighan, the money was not tak
:>n out of the bag. It was hidden away
it the foot of the Gray Wether Stone,
where I found It by accident, and hero,
Mr. Leighan, are your twenty sorer- '
I took them from my pocket and laid
them on the table in a little pile. His
long lean fingers closed over them, and
be transferred them swiftly to his pocket
without taking his eyes off my face, as
if he feared that I might pounce upon
"And what, young man, do you auk
for your honesty in bringing me back
"You might have kept it. I should
have been none the wiser. You are
rich, I suppose, or you would have kept
It. Many young men would have kept
it. Can I offer you a pound—yes, a
pound!— for your honesty?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Leighan; I do not
want a reward for common honesty. Be
sides, you must thank George Sidcote,
not me. It was George who discovered
that it was your money."
"As you please— as you please. In
London you are so rich, I suppose, with
your writing, that you can afford to
throw away a pound well earned." ,
(To be continued.)
Call Bin Kubb«r Horse."
"Tlie rubber horse" Is the sobriquet
given by the members of No. 1 truck
company, Harrison street, between'
Fuyette and Baltimore streets, to Dum
barton, the great gray gelding that
helps to pull their apparatus to fires,
says the Baltimore News.
"The rubber horse" has the peculiar
faculty of being able to stretch him-i
self exactly as a cat sometimes does)
In front of a fire. When he la a little ''
tired or feels that his muscles need!
relaxing, Dumbarton stretches his
front legs directly In front of him,'
bending down on them until they are
almost flat on the ground and extend-'
ed In front of him, while his back legs ■
and hind-quarters appear from his po
sition to be lifted upward.
The first time that Dumbarton per
formed this contortion was on the
street while b* and his wagon mata
were waiting for their friends to ex
tinguish a blaze. The position was so'
unusual for a horse to take that tbe
firemen around tbe truck wagon
thought that the animal had a fit of
some kind and rushed forward to raise '■
him tip. But Dombarton, with a twin-i
kle in his eye, seemed to say. "I was!
only doing ■ little contortionist stunt. 1
for you," and slowly regained his feet I
Sometimes Dumbarton performs his
contortionist act In his stall, but ho
generally does it while he is standing
on the street, nnd when he elects to
perform a crowd always gathers
around the "rubber horse" to see him
stretch like a cat.
The Bachelor— Say what you please,
but I don't believe there was it/r a
man that could lisa ■ woman ur\
The Benedict—My brother can.
The Bachelor- Ha! How do rot
The Benedict—Because he is a la
if A Uttle Lesson I
1 A Little Lesson ff
1 £ In Patriotism s|
'-'■.'■ . '.:'■.
James Biewerton lUcketts had
served on the Canadian border guard
and had been conspicuous in the war
with Mexico for his
gallant conduct on
the fleid before he
entered the Union
army at the be
ginning of the civil
war. His tirst duty
In the civil war
was the defense of
the city of Wash
Ington. Later he
was transferred to
the capture of Al
In the disastrous
battle of Bull Hun.
On the 21nt of July,
jamf.sb. hick kits. i B 6 1, he was
wounded and captured, On that very
day he hnd been brevetted lieutenant
colonel and made brigadier general of
I United states volunteers. He whs
held aa a prisoner of war, but was
exchanged in the following year, in
, June, 1882, he was active in the opera
tions In the valley of the Shennndoah,
and participated with the Army of the
Potomac In the Maryland, the North
ern Virginia and the Richmond cam
He served in the slejre of Peters
burg, Va., In the defense of Mary
land against the raid of Gen. Jubal
Early, receiving the brevet of ma*
| Jor general for gallant conduct dur*
; Ing the war.
Ills bravery at the battfc of Cedar
Creok was exceptionally noteworthy.
lie was never out of the range of the
Confederate fire, and was always to
; bo found In the thick of the fight, eveo
though he himself was wounded dur
Ing the charge.
HISTORIC LONG ISLAND CHURCH.
I St George's Episcopal Church at
Hempstead, L. 1., for the remodeling
of which plans are being arranged, is
one ef the historic edifices of the coun
try. In April, 1004, the two hundredth
anniversary of its passing into the con
trol of the Episcopalians was cele- '
brated. The present church is the
fourth that has stood on the site. It
possesses a royal charter presented by
Queen Anne, and also a communion set
given by the same ruler in 1700, to
gether with a Bible, prayer book, a
book of homilies, and silver chalices
and patens. The interior of St. George's
Ib considered to be unusually quaint
The roof Is supported by twelve huge
pillars of solid oak that extend into the
basement. It boasts a clock that has
kept time for nearly 100 years.
Mtp with (ow anil I'tjjs.
Dr. William B. May and Detectives
Condon and Shook, under orders from
I Health Commissioner Greene, investi
! gated the house of Ludwig Staronskl,
| a Russian, says a Buffalo special to
the St. Louis Republic, Dr. May's re
port Is as follows:
I "Adjoining the house Is a small sum
| mer kitchen. In that apartment was
a closet, In which a pig was quartered.
The improvised sty was so narrow that
the animal was unable to turn. In the
front room, what might be termed a
I parlor, was a cow.
I "While we were on our tour of In
i spection two goats dropped in to see
I what was going on. The stench was
; unbearable. Four dogs comprise the
j rest of the menagerie, not to mention
i the numerous chickens which were al-
I lowed to roam at will through the
; house. We were Informed that eight
i persons, including some small children,
lived In the small rooms, along with
the cow, the pig, the goats, the dogs
and the chickens."
Sin- Batted In.
A nicely dressed doll faced little
! girl about 5 was standing on Dearborn
avenue near Lincoln Park. She cur
ried a flaxen haired doll which must
originally have had a face the replica
' of Its young owner's, but was in a sor
;-y condition from being battered
,iaf.jnst the wall. The little girl gave
it it resounding whack Just as an old
It&v came along.
' Child," said the benignant old lady,
"why do you treat your pretty doll
The child's innocent blue eyes looked
Indignantly up as she answered:
"I wish old women wouldn't butt In
"My gracious!" was all the old lady
«nld as she hurried away.— Chicago
A diplomat Is a man who loves his
lother-in-b. w —lf the old lady ha*
Some gln.V elbows netu.illy look n*
If Ui«?y iutt corn* on Jj»ui.
POWER OF ENDURING PAIN.
Many Undergo Bnrgical Operation
Without Taking Anaesthetics.
The Incident of a physician with a
dislocated shoulder going from one
doctor to another to get It set without
' an anaesthetic and finally securing the
heroic treatment at Bellevue is to to
day so much out of the ordinary that
It secures liberal space In th.c newspa
i pers. The fact that a painful opera
| tion was performed without chloro
form or ether is itself thought worthy
jof notice. The refusal of several phy
'. sicians to perform It is eloquent in
, the state of surgical practice.
Now and then In some doctor's of
, fice or medical museum we see a case
| of instruments which seem better fit-
I ted for the carpenter's bench or the
I butcher's block than for the surgeon's
I table. There are knives as large aa
I carvers for cutting through quivering
and sensitive flesh with free sweep
and swift stroke, as If it were dead
meat, and great saws for severing hu-
I man bones like firewood. The Bight
: of them is enough to make one glad
1 not to have lived in the old days. It
is much more comfortable to be carved
If anybody doubts that anaesthesia
j was the greatest blessing of the nine
teenth century to humanity the threat
of an amputation with these old in
struments is likely to change his opin
ion. Out of the football field men
now and then get joints dislocated and
stoically have them set without ether
and rush bock Into the scramble. Bat
tle and accident and disease still in
flict untold suffering under circum
stances which no anodyne can deaden.
But In ordinary life for the most
part we have become so accustomed
to relief from physical pain in surgi
cal practice that the deliberate pre
ference for endurance rather than ob
livion excites interest and remark. Yet
only a few years ago such endurance
was a matter of course. To-day many
people, even to save their lives, would
not face the pain of the old-time prac
tice, so much hare habit and th«
knowledge of surgical luxury affected
us. Just as It is impossible for him
who has grown into the life of ease
and self-indulgence to take up the re
gimen of early days, when he worked
with his hands and lived on hard fare,
so it is impossible for most of us to
face pain as our fathers and mothers
Some students of the Chinese tell
us that their remarkable endurance
of pain is not so much stoicism as
lack of sensitiveness. They do not
feel pain as the Caucasian does. If
that bo true it is easy to believe in
great variations not merely In self
control, but in sensory responsiveness.
Perhaps our people, besides being less
habituated to the endurance of pain
as a matter of course, are also more
sensitive to it, not only mentally, but
physically. The modern nervous ten
sion and quick responsiveness may
lay upon the hero of to-day a vastly
(greater burden than was borne under
the same suffering by the man of an
earlier time, who was not braver or
more self-contained or more the mas
ter of his own soul, but whoso physi
cal being did not vibrate with any
thing like the mime Intensity under
CLEVELAND'S REAL INCOME.
Authoritative statement About Much-
After a considerable period of be
lief that Mr. Cleveland had become
comparatively rich as the result of fi
nancial operations In association with
his friend, B. C. Benedict, the broker,
a story to the other extreme la now
going the roundH to the effect that his
, income Is only $5,000 a year, Bays
n.i'-pcr's Weekly. Tho truth Is that
Mr. Cleveland's Income from his In
vestments Is between $8,000 and *10.
--000, to which he adds an average of
about $3,000 by writing occasional es
says for publication. He might have
acquired a larger fortune, doubtless,
but for the fact that he would never
permit his bankers to buy or sell stocks
on margins. Mr. Benedict, however,
makes his few investments, and tlu-y
aro generally wise ones.
Some years ago Mr. Cleveland had
(5,000 to spare and Mr. Benedict ob
tained for him the right, which he
availed himself of, to subscribe for the
stock of a projected trust company.
The knowledge that the former Presi
dent was to become one of their share
holders inspired the promoters with a
! brilliant Idea. After consultation, th«gr
sought Mr. Benedict, and through him
offered Mr. Cleveland the Presidency
of the company at a salary of ViO.OOO
I a year. It was a legitimate undertak
ing, backed by reputable men, but Mr.
Cleveland somewhat reluctantly de
clined on the ground that he was un
acquainted with the details of the busi
| ness and that the condition of his
| health would not permit of the sever*
application requisite to effective serv
Again he was urged to accept, with
the assurance that his duties would be
' nominal, his mere official connection
1 with the company being considered
sufficient recompense for his remuner
ation. Mr. Cleveland replied simply
that that would seem to him too much
i like selling the use of his name, which,
'of course, he could not do. That closed
' the Incident
"Mr. Slopay, did I understand you to
»ay you believed my coffee to be hall
"I believe,** replied Mr. Blopay, peer
ing into his cup, "I have grounds fot
such a belief." —Houston Post
It Isn't always safe to bet that th«
man who howls loudest about thieving
I politicians never tried to beat a street
' car conductor out of a nickel. '
Butter with a fishy taste has arous
ed complaint in Australia, where in
vestigation has shown that the flavor
has no connection with fish, but la
due to one or more of four micro
organisms. The rusty Iron of cans was
found to have a bad effect on milk
The newly patented electric cook-
Ing stove of Prof. Bllhu ?.'hompson is
heavily jacketed outside iflth a layer
of asbestos, fireclay or mineral wool
and Is provided with a lid of the same
character. Inside is placet] a mass of
refractory substance, wilt in which is
embedded a granular resistance ma
terial. Silicon is recomti ended as a
resistance material, as It hs a high
speciiic resistance, and acquires a
suitable temperature without fusing or
oxidizing. The whole interior of the
stove can be kept red hot, and It Is
anticipated that the runn.ng cost for
cooking through the day will not ba
The British Museum authorities
have decided to make a collection of
phonographic records preserving the
voices of great living orai:ors, singers
and actors, and the instit mental ren
derings of famous musicians. The
master records will be of nickel, from
which molds will be taken. Hut for
the sake of posterity the records will
be very sparingly used dining the life
time of those whose voices are record
ed. A similar undertaking is on foot
In Italy. Imagine, if there had been
phonographs when l> L >mo!ithenes de
nounced Philip, when Cicero prosecut
ed Verres, when Mlrabeau addressed
the French revolutionists, and when
Webster answered Haynel
The danger of explosions In mines
Is not entirely confined to inflammable
ga&es, carelessly managed fuses and
neglected charges or cartridges. It
has been observed in the Derbyshire
lead mines that some oi the great
rocks are liable to burst on being
scratched with a pick. The explosion
is supposed to be due either to gases
enclosed la the rocks, or to molecu
lar strains. Last December a severe
explosion of slate rock occurred in a
mine at Hlllgrove, New South Wales,
and the shock was felt for a mile or
two over the surrounding country. la
this instance it io believed that the
rock wall where the explosion oc
curred was subjected to a mechanical
The best results yet attained in the
various attempts that have been made
to produce a wearable cloth from
paper are nald to be those produced,
by a patented process employed in
Saxony. Narrow strips of paper are
spun Into yarn, which may be woven
to form cloth. Better results are ob
tained by spinning paper and cotton
together, and still better cloth Is made
by a combination of paper and woolen
yarns. The fabrics do rot posses*
the strength and durability of ordi
nary cloth, but useful clothing 1»
made of them at a low price. They
may even be washed without injury-
Yarns are also made from wool-pulp,
although their manufactuie has not
yet attained commercial importance.
One of the sights of the Great Salt
Lake of Utah, developed liy the pro
gress of scientific industry, Is the sys
tem of Immense salt-making pond*
on the shore of the lake. At Saltalr
the lake water is pumped Into a great
settling basin, where the Impurities
fall to the bottom, and, containing
much Iron, form a reddish deposit.
Prom this basin the water Is drawn
off into "harvesting ponds," averaging
90,000 square yards In area, nil six
Inches In depth. The pondil are kept
supplied with winter, as tin; evapora
tion goes on from May to September,
when the salt harvest begins. The
water having disappeared, i dazzling
layer of salt, two or three inches
thick, Is found covering the bottom of
the ponds, which Is broken up with
plows before being conveyed to the
mills, where the final crushing and
winnowing are done.
Two Views of It.
A girl In Haddam went to a base
ball game and surprised her escort by
her knowledge of the game. The
young man had ventured to say:
"Base-ball reminds me of the house
hold — the plate, the batter, the fouls
and the flies." "And it reminds me
of marriage," she added. "First, the
diamond, where they are engaged, the
struggle and the hits, when the men
go out, and^ finally the difficulty they
have In getting home."— Haddain,
After the Spii nk i 7»i*.
Mrs. Whittler Lowell—ln disobey
ing me, Emerson, you wjre doing
wrong and I am punishing you to Im
press it upon your mind.
Emerson —Aren't you mistaken,
mamma, in regard to the location of*
my mind? Life.
The Cause ot li.
Doctor — Do you ever hctx % buzzing
noise In your ears?
Patient —Of course, doeti/. I thought
you knew her.
Doctor — Knew whc<n?
Pattest—Mj wil v.— l*ladelphla .
Press. , .
Children soon learn tha la's pa
tience doesn't last any longet than It
tan en the last gurst to get ou of the
It Bomiriimes happens that a mean
man Is «o absent minded that he .
-ruilea at people hr doesn't Ilka.