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S O IT IS
Here's a jYiend who says that sorrow ti§i
Come-* today or comes"tomonow.
Here's a longfacc who JS» moainngl^lisSyW
Tell him death i-» far away! -w
Let dull age go weep and pray
Heed not grief, the ghost tliere, groaning,
Who would cloud the jocund day!
Ah, they sav tfyit anguish found them,
Men cut down with battle round them—
(Hear the boys there gayly singing.')
In boire region fai away'
What caie weTCIIOJaugh today9
Bring no tears, whate'er jou're bringing:
Honor to the jocund da}'.'
Whata that sound that cools our laughter
Whats that form that follows alter?
Funeial music sadly sounded—
One more man is turned to clay.
Let dull age go weep and pray*
Youth by death was ne'er confounded.
Long shall shine our jocund day.
Oh, my dear one, to my weeping
Marble Mlence sternly keeping,
Lying there in breathless blindness—
Death is never far away
Even youth can weep and pi ay'
Lips that loved have lost their kindness
Dead are they this Ditter day!
—Hose Hawthorne Lathrop, in Scnbner.
IR CHARLES VAVA
SOUR was the happiest
man in England. Young,
handsome, in posses
sion ot a large fortune,
a splendid domain and
noble mansion, he
wanted but a wife to
complete his felicity.
For a year he paid
his addresses to the on
ly daughter of Lady
-=«., Beauchamp, and then
became her happy bridegroom. It
then seemed to him impossible that
he could evince the hapiuness he felt
by showing too much happiness and
•devotion. Even the caprices of the
charming Matilda—and she had'them
—rendered her a thousand times moie
engaging in his eye1, and it cost him
nothing to give way to them.
It was about this time that he
dispa! ched a letter to his uncle, Colo
nel avasour of three or four pages of
panegyric, crowded with notes of ad
miration, which the old bachelor per
Ut-ed, as he said, with terror.
Dunns the second month Sir Charles
began to perceive that Matilda (whom
until then he had believed all perfec
tion) had some trifling faults, and
even the first time he hazarded a slight
dilleience of opinion.
"Ah, Charles,'' she said, "you love
me no longer."
'•Not lo\e you!" exclaimed he
"rather than think so do what you
please, act as you will, order, com
mand," and so the lady had her own
Her mother, too, Auth whom lie was
always in the wrong, came to pass a
few days with them, after which time
they had not a peaceable moment.
Ashamed at last of his weakness, the
young husband resolved to seize on
the first pretext, no matter what, ior
recovering his authority.
They were mviteJ to a ball at a
neighboring country seat, where they
would have met a certain young
wadow, a Lady Oussulton, of whom
liady Vavasour—thanks to the kind
offices of her mothet—had taken it in
to her head to be cautiously jealous.
Matilda refused to go, and absolute
ly forbade her Husband to go, too.
But. he stood firm, and told her it
would be an act of marked disrespect
it they were both to refuse the mvita
tion that she miqhtdo as shepleased,
but that he should most certainly ac
cept it, even it he went alone.
Lady Beauchamp at once said that
he was a tyrant, who wanted to mur
der her poor child to -which Sir
Charles responded by tellinaher plain
ly not to intertere betwixt husband
The night came. Sir Charles felt a
little uneasy at his wife's silence, but
plucked up courage andresolved to go
through with it. As the clock struck
he rose to depart, upon which Matilda
rushed to the window, threw it wide
open, and, with a terrible calmness in
her eye, told him that E he stirred a
fctep she would throw herself out!
Before he could approach—before
he could prevent her—she had precipi
tated herself irom it! By a provi
dential chance, however, there
happened to be a wagon loaded with
hay standing just beneath, and she
fell on it without hurting herself in
Lady Beauehanrpimmediately took
her daughter to the manor-house,
leaving Sir Charles in the elegant
lodge where they had spent the honey
And so matters had remained for a
month, Sir Charles lingering at the
lodge, without being able to catch
eight of his wife until at last, ari\ en
to despair, the fond young husband
had wiitten a letter, imploring for
giveness, the delivery of which he en
trusted to Mrs. Grace Peabody, the
wife of a farmer whose dwelling
abutted on the park gates.
But the messenger returned in do
lorous mood, with no answer from
Matilda her mother was with her,
and she took the note from her, in
spite of the information that it was a
letter which Sir Charles had written
his wife, and to no one else.
•'No," said Grace to Sir Charles,"
*he never answered a word to that,
but she sat herself down and scrib
bled away, and at last she handed it
to me, saying, 'Give the poor mad
it was a note to Sir Charles, com
mencing "This is our ultimatum.
My daughter will only consent to re
ceive j'ou on one condition-that
3011 acknowledge your fault, return
to the manor-hout-e and make an
.ample apology both to me and to
At tins moment a chaise drove
rapidly up to the lodge-gates and
loithwith descended a stout elderly,
nit1!!.-try-looking gentleman, inquiring
l:is way to the manor-liou&e and
grumbling at the post-boy's ignorance,
which he said was all owing to "these
Sir Charles gladly recocnized his
uncle, and speedily found consolation
in acquainting him with his miseries
and some comfort in asking his ad
vice and assistance.
"This morning," he said, "I refused
to go to meet of the Py tchley hounds,
because it took place in Lord Oussul
ton's park, and it might give Matil
da, or rather her mother, room to
"You should have done nothing" of
the kind,'* remarked his uncle.
"What, Charles, would you pass all
your life in Lady Beauchamp's lead
ing-strings? No, you shall go to the
hunt. Make yourself happy. Sing
dance, laugh, chuck the lasses under
the chin, kiss the pretty girls and
never fear but I'll bring you through."
In half an hour there was Sir
Charles footing it away merrily in the
farmer's keeping-room, the bow-win
dowr of which commanded the entrance
to the park, up the great avenue of
which the Lady Beauchamp and her
charming daughter were at that mo
A mutual recognition took place be
tween the Colonel and her ladyship,
followed by an invitation for him on
her part to visit them at the manor
house, which he declared he felt great
regret at haviug to decline in conse
quence of the melancholy position of
The sound of a violin and a "Now
take your places, take your places"
from the farmer's windows opposite
drew off the attention of the party for
"Oh, my dear, you must not mind
this." remai-ked the Colonel, it's the
anniversary of Mrs. Peabody's wed
ding day, and Sir Charles is obliged,
of course, to open the dance Avith her.
See he is proposing her husband's
health, and eh! what, kissing Grace'"
"I can't believe my eyes," cried
Matilda, in a rage, stepping forward
to enter the house. "I will confront
and shame him.''
"Matilda, my daughter," said Lady
Beauchamp, leading her away "think
of your dignity don't degrade your
self ret us leave this disgraceful scene."
"Oh'" said the Colonel, as they
walked off, "it is quite plain that it
is time for us to prepare our ultima
tum now. Well, Charles, how do you
like your dance?"
But when the Colonel told him that
his wish was gratified and that Lady
Vavasour had just departed in a per
fect fury at witnessing his dancing,
drinking and kissing performances, the
poor husband was perfectly bewilder
ed he refused to sign the "ultimatum,"
as his uncle called it.
Matilda was a little confused, and
had scarcely recovered as the Colonel
came up and inquired for Lady Beau
Matilda set to wnrlc to coax the
Colonel and bring him over to per
suade her husband to apologize and
make it up at once.
The Colonel, like an old soldier,
saw his advantage, and'told her that
it was impossible to bring about arec
onciliation that the character of
Sir Charles had been greatly altered
fiom its original gentleness and docil
ity that, in fact, he had become a
complete tyrant, "and in the first
place he I'equiies you to write him an
"That I will do."
"Yes, my dear niece," said the Col
onel, "and express your sorrow' and
"Me! Regret—never' Confess I was
in the wrong! He should do it first, at
"Then, Lady Vavasour, do not de
tain me. I know he will refuse."
Presently Lady Beauchamp rejoined
her daughter. Matilda acquainted her
with the proposals of the Colonel for
an accommodation, and of her indig
nant refusal to apologize or express
"That is my own dear darling
daughter. How could he think us
capable of such a weakness, when he
nearly caused your death?"
"Don't say too much about that,
mamma for, to tell youthe truth, my
life never was in the least danger."
"What the is that?" whispered
Sir Charles to the Colonel, as they
"Not in danger?" exclaimed Lady
Beauchamp. "But unless the wagon
load of hay had been there you would
have killed yourself."
"Yes, mamma, but—I knew it was
there before I threw myself out'"
Both ladies now prepared them
selves to receive the Colonel, who
came forward from the lodge—with a
very grave and important air—hold
ing a paper in his hand.
"Ladies," he said, "I must bid you
farewell Sir Charles and I start at
once for Constantinople."
"Constantinople!" cried Matilda
"that dreadful place where they have
so many wives' Oh, mamma! And
yvou, sir—did you not try to persuade
"What could I do, my dear? You
declined his former proposals, and
now he demands things—absurd
quite inadmissible—inexcusable con-'
"I should like, nevertheless, to know
what they are," said Matilda.
"He says, Lady Vavasour, it was
through the Avindow that you de
parted it is through the window that
you must return,' said the Colonel,
finishing the sentence and coolly taking
a pinch ot snnfb "J-^%
Mrs. Grace Peabocly burst out
laughing Lady Beauchamp pro
nounced the proposition inramous,
Matilda wept. •£,«.
jady Beauchamp went off in a rage,
and the Colonel sat down by the tree,
where he was pined by Sir Charles.
On a sudden they caught sight of
Matilda and Grace Peabody carrying
a ladder between them, and, much to
their surprise, could see them, as they
concealed j^hemselves behind the tree,
place the ladder against the balcony,
up which Matilda mounted, and actu
ally got over to the window as if
about to enter, as Grace held the lad
der at the bottom.
Sir Cnai le« could stand it no longer,
but l)ioke away from the Colonel's
grasp, rushed through the lodge and
opened the window, aa in.rang Matilda
just as Lady Beauchamp entered.
But beiore the dowager could assert
herself, the husband and wife were
clasped in each other's arms, and all
ended happily, with the approval and
acceptance of "the ultimatum."—
LUCKY LAURA LIBBEY.
She Makes Pocketsf ul of Money
Probably the most interesting fe
male personality in New York just
now is the authoress Laura Jean Lib
bey. Her name is more advertised cer
tainly than that of any other woman
hereabouts. She is personally a mod
est little lady, says the New York Re
corder. She has childish blue eyes and
is as unaffected in her manner as a
New England school-teacher. She
came from Cincinnati a few years ago,
poor and unknown. She had no great
life experiences has never traveled
has never seen the commonest phases
of humanity, and yet she seems to
have discovered the art of fixing tlie
attention of the shop girl, the factory
girl and the young women who all ex
pect to marry rich young men and live
a palace. Miss Libbey now has an
elegant home in Brooklyn, where she
lives with her mother and she has a
nice carriage and a pair of sprightly
horses. One oftheMunros pays her
a handsome salary. She writes stories
and they sell so well that she prob
ably makes just now more money by
her own efforts than any woman in
this section. That, of course, does
not count investments. Miss Libbey
is about 30 years of age. She goes to
Saratoga in the summer, to the Berk
shire hills in the autumn, and her en
tertainments in Brooklyn are now at
tracting the fashionables of that city.
Her success is entirely due to her own
AN OD RING.
For a Delusion Riven.
Mam'selle recently saw a ring a
of twisted and cut steel, set with a
peculiar opaque green chrysolite,
which was handed round from man
to man to examine, and was admired
by all. To mam'selle's eye—uneduca
ted iu that line—it looked as if it were
worth about 4 cents, and even three
of those might be thrown away. It
was known, however, to have cost
$160. Not much for the ring femin
ine, perhaps, not a good round sum
to pay for such an article for a man.
Another ring much admired by the
fellows was the product of a young
man's own ingenuity. The foreman
of a large steel works, he had employ
ed some of his hours when on night
duty in manufacturing a curious,
clumsjr, unfinished ring made of iron
and set with an unpolished turquoise.
Turquoise, moonstones and opals are
the favorite stones used in both scarf
pins and rings for men.
What men save in jewelry they make
up in "sticks," as it is now the fashion
to call canes and umbrellas. Few
men do not indulge themselves ad
libitum in these articles for their own
rise, and the man who possesses "a
den" is very apt to have a passion
for canes and "go in" tor making a
collection of them. He must have a
cane rack made to suspend from the
wall or from under his mantel shelf,
ior each one ot his collection is as
choice, in his opinion, as any paint
ing, and quite as worthy to be held up
before the eyes of the visitors to his
own particular sanctum.—Chicago
Where Money Was of Little Value.
En Englishwoman, describing a visit
to an extensive gold mine in Victoria
twenty-five years ago, says that
many of the workers in the mine were
shareholders and very rich men. Few
of them seemed to have the slightest
idea of the value of money or how to
"Many of those who can count
their money by thousands live in the
same little shanties which they built
on first coming to the diggings. They
treat their friends on every possible
occasion, and when they go to the
nearest town buy for their wives the
most expensive dresses they can find?
Few of them have any higher idea of
the pleasures or the advantages or
even the comforts to be attained by
the possession of wealth.
"As illustrating the characteristics
of such men, a gentleman told me
"He arrived at a port in Australia,
and finding no one who looked like a
porter by profession to take his
portmanteau to the hotel, he said to
a rough-looking man who was stand
ing on the wharf with his hands in his
"Here, my man, if you'll take this
up to the hotel for me, I'll give you
half a crown.'
"The man scowled at him, took a
couple of sovereigns out of his pocket,
threw them into the sea, turned awav
without a word, and marched off with
the most contemptuous expression
on his face." „r
A Stern Parentt.. g|g|
Mr. Lefaucheur, enraged at the coift
duct of his son, a student in Paris,
wrote to him as follows:—"Monsieur,
I am so angry with you that I am de
termined to stop the supplies. Any
money that you receive after this
date will be sent by your mother, and
without my knowledge. I may tell
you that if you will not attend to
your studies you will always remain
an ass—Your father (signed) Lefau^'
How It Is a re in an3?
it Is is Of
In November, when the cold weather
has fairly set in, the gathering of
spruce gum begins in Vermont. Gen
uine spruce gum has almost entirely
disappeard from the Bennington mar
ket as aregular article of merchandise.
Formerly the supply was abundant,
the price low and the quality first
class. a, I
But the supply* now largely depends
on chance, the gum-pickers not being
so numerous or industrious as in
former years, as there is little money
in the business. The sawmill, pulpmill
and forest fires have wrought such
devastation among the big tracts of
spruce trees which formerly clothed
the Green Mountains, that the occupa
tion of the gumpicker is almost gone.
Sometime^ a lumberman or a moun
taineer in Woodford, a town adjoin
ing Bennington on the east, discovers
a tree that will yield several pounds
of marketable gum. which is brought
to Bennington, where it finds a ready
market at good prices.
The price depends entirely upon the
quality, ranging all the way from 50
cents to $1.50 a pound. Gum ofpoor
quality is readily distinguished by its
opaqueness and by its intimate ad
mixture of minute bits of bark, which
became entangled with the gum when
it exuded from thetreein a semi-liquid
state. Poor gum is further distin
guished as being too heavy or too
light, bitter and permanently sticky
to the teeth in some cases, and hard
and crumbly in other specimens. Gum
of the finest grade is either translu
cent or transparent, of a light amber
color, filled more or less with the
minute bubbles of air, breaking with a
short shining fracture and having a
sweet, peculiar and balsamic odor and
taste. The word "gum," however, is
popularly misapplied, as the sustance
is a resinous matter.
A considerable portion of the gum
offered for sale in Bennington is sent
West in small packages by mail. The
reason for this is that large numbers
of Eastern people who have gone West
send back to their old home for small
supplies at a time. In this way, too,
quarter-pound packages of gum are
sent across the continent to Califor
nia, where the article is valued almost
beyond price. The Ohio and Michigan
branches of the Olin family, that re
cently held their annual reunion in
Bennington, "cornered" about all the
spiuce gum stocks town —Chicago
Under the name of wTire-glass a new
invention has been brought on the
market in Dresden. The process of
manufacture consists in furnishing
glass in a hot, plastic condition, with
a flexible metallic layer, iron wire
netting for instance, which is com
pletely inclosed by the vitreous sub
stance and effectively protected
against exterior influences, as rust,
etc. The new glass possesses much
greater resisting power than the ordi
nary material, and is, it is claimed,
indifferent to the most abrupt changes
of temperature, and will even with
stand open fire. The glass is specially
adapted for skylights, the powerful
resisting qualities of the material
enabling the usual wire protectors to
be dispensed with. As wire-glass can
not be cut by the diamond, except
under the application of great force,
and can not be broken without creat
ing considerable noise, the substance
is claimed to be, in a measure, burg
The Law at} Expensive Luxury.
Just how expensive a luxury the
law cau be upon occasion is illustrated
by a recent case in London where the
costs were seventeen times as large as
the sum originally in dispute. A Mrs.
Large reiused to pay rent for a house
on the ground that it was in such an
insanitary condition that her hus
band inhaled sewer «as there and
died in consequence. An action was
brought against her, and for some
reason which does not appear, she
failed to defend it. Judgment was
given against her for the £41, and the
costs amounted to £700. Mr. Justice
Grantham went so far as to declare
that it was "one of the most scandal
ous things he had ever heard of," add
ing that "the moment a fund was in
Court it seemed to be treated like a
cow—a thing to be milked." The
Judge's indignation, however, did not
help Mrs. Large, as she practical^
had put herself out ot Court by not
defending the action.
Various Uses for Newspapers.
The uses of a newspaper, aside from
its readable qualities, are not per
haps fully known. If on a raw day
you have to walk across town for
several blocks and meet the keen wind
which New Yorkers invariably en
counter, stop at the corner stand and
buy a newspaper—its politics are non
essential—which slip beneath your
fur cape or wrap, from neck to belt.
Its protection is remarkable. Two
newspapers spread between the insuffi
cient covers of a bed on a cold night
are an excellent substitute for the un
procurable blankets or comfortables.
Jn traveling, one of these clean, new
sheets on the floor of a dirty car
means valuable dress protection. And
iight-soled shoes arc most efficiently
added to by two thicknesses of the
same thing. Stand the shoe on the
paper and draw an outline of the sole,
which then cut out. This slipped in
place is as good as a cork sole, and
vastly more comfortable —New York
Ants Can Carry on Their Backs
Many Times Their Own Weisrht.?^
A gentleman on the island of St.
Croix instituted several experiments
with reference to ascertaining the
truth of what he had often been told
of the ingenuity and apparent reason
ings of the ants of that beautiful is
land, says the New York Ledger.
Having slain a centipede which had
been gent him by a friend, he laid it
on the wiudow-sill within his apart
ment, where, though not a single in
dividual of that mischievous race of
vermin had been seen, to his great
gratification, in the course of a fewr
hours, one solitary ant suddenly
made its appearance through a crev
ice in the casing, attracted probably
by the odor of the dead body.
Shortly after, having surveyed the
premises, it disappeared, but speedily
returned with a host of companions,
to whom the discovery of a prize had
unquestionably been communicated
a more careful survey of the magni
tude of the object was evidently insti
tuted. The whole company then dis
appeared simultaneously through the
crack, but an army was put in requisi
tion, for the third appearance was a
Having mounted the carcass, ex
amined minutely its exact position
and satisfied themselves that it was
actually bereft of life and that no
danger would be incurred from their
premeditated opera tions,|a new and
unlooked-for series of labor was com
menced, bearing such a striking anal
ogy to human reason in what is
commonly called "contrivance," that,
if there is no intelligence it—why,
the metaphysicians have in reserva
tion an unexplored field of observa
Not being able to move the mass
entirely, they divided themselves in
to platoons and cut the body into
portions of about half an inch in
length, which was effectually -and
skillfully done between a late hour in
the afternoon and the following night
and each piece transported to their
citadel through some contiguous ap
erture of sufficient diameter to allo'w
the loads to pass.
When the observer arose at day
light every part had been carried
away except the head, which was
really moving off toward the hole
surrounded by an immense concourse
of "admiring spectators, probably on
the qui vive, happy in the delightful
anticipation of future feasts and rev
On further scrutiny he found that
the decapitated head was mounted on
the backs of about a dozen bearers
who, like a roman phalanx with a
testudo upon their shoulders!, were
marching off in orderly manner tow
ard the same orifice through which
the rest had disappeared.
AN INSTRUCTIVE FABLE.
The Joyous-Tale of the Dervish
and the Walking Delegate.
A dervish journeyed forth to teach
mankind the uselessness of riches, says
Truth. He was scantily clothed in the
filthest of rags his head was bare and
on his feet were fragments of sandals.
About his neck hung a* leather scrip
with a handful of dates.
On the edge of the desert he met a
walking delegate who was on his way
to Mecca to order a strike among the
pilgrims—a non-union hadji having
been permitted to kiss the holy Kaaba.
"Hello, old duffer! "said the delegate.
"Where do you buy your garments?
you look like a locked-out tramp.',
"I am dressed," answered the der
vish, "as befits my vocation and in all
respects am equipped for any emerg
ency. No blight of fortune can cast
me down or impede my mission."
"So?" replied the delegate "suppose
I were to confiscate that bag of grub?"
"I have been inured to hunger from
my youth up and seldom is the thought
of food uppermost in my mind. Be
sides it is the fast of Ramadam and it
is not lawful to eat."
"The stones of the desert are sharp
what if I were to take away your
"Behold!" and the deverish uncov-"
ered a foot and exhibited a sole as
tough and leathery as that of a
"But suppose I was to strip those
rags from your back.
"Sun and simoon have scorched my
back for seventy years and it matters
little whether it be covered or not.
And now," continued the dervish,
"shut your bread-winner and let me
talk. You think your equipment per
fect, but you are not rigged for a long
distance race. A little accident bv
the way will rattle you. See me prove
it'" and grasping his staff, heexecuted
a flourish and with one swift, clean,
horizontal stroke he hit the delegate's
plug hat in the middle and knocked
it a shapeless thing upon the sand.
With a look of anguish the delegate
picked up the wreck. The top was gone,
the sides were caved and the brim
was cut across and hung dangling
from the crown.
"There!" said the dervish, "your
power is gone from you, for what is a
walking delegate without a plug hat?
Oh. Bismillah! Oh, Marshallah! Oh,'
rats! Yah'" and, brandishing his staff,
he drove the delegate forth. And as the
burning Syrian sun rose higher in the
sky the vanishing forms passed over
the line of the horizon, the delegate
ahead, with the dervish a good sec
ond about two jumps behind.
England's Money Guarded.
The Bank of England's doors are
mow so finely balanced that the clerk,
by pressing a knob under his desk,
can close the outer doors instantly,
and they can not be opened again ex
cept by special process. This is done
to prevent the daring and ingenious
unemployed of the great metropolis
from robbing the famous institution.
The bullion department of this and
other great English banking establish
ments are nightly submerged in sever
al feet of water by the action of the
machinery. In some of the London
banks the bullion departments are
connected with the manager's sleeping
rooms, and an entrance can not be
affected without setting off an alarm
near the persons head. If a dis
honest official, during day or night,
should take even as much as one from
a pile of one thousand sovereigns the
whole pile would instantly sink and a
pool ot water take its place, besides
letting every person in the estabhsh
mentknow of the theft.
Japanese and Chrysanthemums.
The Japanese consider it especially
difficult to arrange chrysanthemum*,
and seven faults are noted which
must carefully be guarded against in
disposing of large blossoms of this
plant. A blossom must not present
its back in a composition, nor yet
turn its full face to view. The differ
ent flowers must not have stems the
same length three must not be arrang
ed in a triangular form, nor may any
number be placed 111 aiegular step
like way, the flowers should not be
hidden by leaves, nor should a large
open blossom be put near the base of
the composition, and, finally, the art
ist must not fall into the sin of color
sandwiching, or placing a blossom
of one color betwreen two others of
•another tint —Garden and Forest.
Th Cunnin of Gulis.
An example of the cunning of gulls
was observed at Tacoma when sev
eral alighted on a bunch of logs that
had been in the water for a long time,
with the submerged sides thick with
barnacles. One was a big gray fellow,
who seemed to be the captain. He
walked to a particular log, stood en
one side of it close to the water, and
then uttered peculiar cries. The other
gulls came and perched on the same
side of the log, which under their com
bined weight rolled over several
inches. The gulis, step by step kept
the log rolling until the barnacles
showed above the water. The birds
picked eagerly at this food, and the
log was not abandoned until every
barnacle had been picked.
THOM\S MCCUE, a workman employed in
finishing the new Franklin Trust compa
ny's building, 111 Brooklyn, fell down the
elevator shait from the eleventh story,.
Use Di\ Price's Cream
IF YOU WISH TO AVOID THE TWIN DRUGS,
^LUM AND AMMONIA
Dr. H. Endemann, for twelve years chemist of the
New York Board of Health, in his paper read before the
American Chemical Society at Washington, in October,
"1891, states that an ammonia baking powder acts on the
-gluten of the flour, altering its chemical properties, and
cites numerous high authorities to prove its injurious
effect on the stomach and kidneys.
Webig the great chemist says: "The use of alum in
\bread is very injurious, ^and it is very apt to disorder
'^the stomach and occasion acidity and dyspepsia."
i% The folloTgng powders are known to contain either
^ammonia or alum or both: Royal, Chicago Yeast, Calumtt,
*%£on Bon, Taylor's One Spoon, Unrivaled, Forest City, Snow Ball %.\