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Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, October 13, 1889, THIRD PART, Image 18

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- iNt R&tr ,
Hall Caine Gives His Personal Recol
lections of Wilkie Collins.
How He Obtained the Title for His Kovel,
The Woman in White.
WKii ira ros the dispatch.!
"Wilkie Collins was a name to conjure
with -when I was a boy at school, and the
great book that first made it famous was
.published before I was born; but I did sot
make acquaintance with the man himself
until about two years ago. Short as that
time is, and little as it promises of personal
knowledge, I can truly say that it repre
sents a period of great intimacy and famil
iarity. I did not know "Wilkie Collins long,
but I knew him well.
I do not remember who it was that intro
duced me to "Wilkie Collini.or for what rea
son we first met, but I recall the occasion of
it well enough. He had written saying that
I would be welcome to call upon him, but
must be prepared to find him in the turmoil
of a domestic change of some sort. "Never-
Willie Collins.
thelcss I am still possessed of a table, bottle of
brandy, a couple of glasses and a box of ci
gars, and will be happv to share them with
the author of So-and-so, "he wrote, ay nearly
as I can remember. I found him in the heart
of London, for he was then living in
Gloucester place The house was large and
rather dingy, one of the mansions of 100
years ago. when the masons of London were
laying the foundations of the gloomiest
buildings in Christendom, and also of the
most protracted bouts of hypochondriasis.
The air of gloom was as much within as
without the house in Gloucester place. The
walls were paneled, the stairs were of stone,
and the hall was cold, and the whole house
seemed cheerless. Much of this effect must
have been due to the dwelling itself, for
when at a later date Collins removed to
"Wimpole street his house was very bright
and homelike. The door had been answered
by a manservant, whose nervousness, hesi
tancy and diffidence told a long story in ad
vance of the habits ot close retirement ob
served by the man I had come to see. Per
haps it cannot so confidently be affirmed ot
Collins' house as one might have said of the
house of Dante fJosetti, that it reflected the
mind of the man who lived in it, for many
of the quaint things that made it curious
and the beautiful things that made it pleas
ant had come to him from his father, the
"Wilkie Collins was firs pointed out to
me by the poet Bosetti as we were passing
-. through Eegent's Park. "That's "Wilkie
Collins," said Bosetti, and I looked and
sw a small, elderly man, gray-haired and
gray-bearded, large-eyed and lion-headed,
roa-d shouldered and stooping heavily.
Thai was my first glimpse ot Collins, and
swift asit must have been, it left its vivid
impression, so that when he came into the
room to me five years afterward at Glouces
ter Place, I remembered in a moment that
I had seen him before. But he had grown
leebler in that interval, paler of face and
more flabby of body. I think I cannot bet
ter describe tht effect of his face fox those
who have not seen it, but have seen the face
of Garibaldi, than to say that the norelist's
face resembled the patriot's, with the
difference of having less power and
more vividness. The only Eerious point
at which this description would be
at fault would be in roped of the eyes,
which were large and protruded, and had
the vague and dreamy look that is some-
times seen in the eyes of the blind. Perhaps
I would come nearer to giving the right im
pression if I were to add (what I hesitate to
say), that the expression of Collins' eyes at
this time was exactly that of a man to whom
chloroform has just before been adminis
tered. Collins' eyes fixed my attention in
stantly, and he saw that it was so. Perhaps
he suspected that I read their strange look by
the light of my late experience, perhaps he
was loth to trust me then, as he trusted me
later, but before we had been talking to
gether lone he interrupted the conversation
and said something like this: "I see that
you can't keep your eyes off my eyes, and I
ought to say that I've got the gout in them,
and that it is trying to blind ue."
I was much troubled that I had brought
down this remark by the unconscious rude
ness of a too constant gaze into the eyes that
fascinated me by the story they seemed to
tell of daily ha'bit and lifelong suffering.
But I made no attempt to excuse it, and ac
cepting Collins' reference to the gout as a
sufficient explanation, I banished the matter
from my mind. It came up again some
months afterward, and it came up once more
at the end, and then I remembered with a
painful vividness what my feeling had been
at first meeting Wilkie Collins face to face.
I found him a good and animated talker,
never very spontaneous, but always precise
and right ,uot blundering and tripping, as I
have heard brilliant talkers blunder and
trip, bat also no: passionate and overwhelm
ing and irresistible. His voice was fairly
lull and of even quality, without shrill notes
in it, and without thrilling depths, a good
Toice, not at all a great one. In manner he
was quiet, a little nervous, and not prone to
much gesture. He sat while he talked, with
his head halt down, and his eyes usually on
the table; but he looked into your face from
time to time, and then his gaze was steady
and encouraging, and you never felt for a
moment that his eye was upon you. In
deed, without being the most
"magnetic" of men, he was a man to
set you at your ease, to get the best out of
you( to send you away with a comfortable
leeling toward yourself, and yet a man with
a proper sense of personal "dignity. You
never knew it for dignity, and that was ex
actly where its strength lay. Xou left him
with the feeling that "Wilkie Collins was
worthy ot "The Moonstone," and that "The
Moonstone" was not a better product than
"Wilkie Collins. Those who have seen
much of distinguished people will know
what I mean by that, lor the chilling of en
thusiasm that may come upon the first
meeting with someone who has been known
and revered for years is one ot the hero
worshiper's commonest experiences.
Wilkie Collins certainly did not disap
point expectations, and neither did he trans
cend them. Tne same large grasp of fact
and command of detail which you find in
the novels you found in the man. If his
conversation was not large, if his outlook on
life was not wide, if his horizon was not far
away, neither were they little and narrow
and near. His insight was sure, his mem
ory unfailing, and his invention equal. In
n word, to meet him on fair terms and on his
own subjects, was to know, without having
read his books, that he was a full man, pow
erful by nature, and thoroughly .equipped
all round by education and acquaintance
" Iff" A Vr as r Mm ., nitmni nf ri
st meeting we talked on many
"i' ' ', I' '," !"'.
subjects. I remember that X wanted infor
mation on the copyright law, for the plot
of one of my novels had been taken by some
dramatic thief, and I had a mind to fight
him. Collins was very full, very precise,
and very emphatic on that subject, having
paid bitterly for his special knowledge over
two of his own stories, "The Woman in
"White" ana "The New Magdalen." He was
quite sure that I had not a lee to stand on,
though, of course, he joined his wail with
mine against the iniquitous law that recog
niied a copyright in words and none in
Then he talked of French writers, and he
said something that I cannot remember of
how he met with Victor Hugo whose plays,
no less than his novels, he admired. But
the elder Dumas among French novelists
was clearly the god of his idolatry, and
"The Three Musketeers" was his ideal of a
great story. He had been many times in
the way of meeting Duuas, but had never
done so. Then he talked of Scott, whom he
valued beyond words of appraisement, think
ing "The Bride of Xammermoor" the great
est of all prose tragedies. Something he
said, too, of Dickens, but only in the charac
ter of a near and dear friend, with a per
ceptible sinking of the soft voice and melt
ing of the gentle eyes. Charles Beade was
also mentioned in relation of the memoir
that had then been newly published, and
the impression left with "me was that the
rougher side of Beade'scharacter had never
been seen by Collins except as the whole
world saw it'in the squabbles of the news
papers. He was always kindly of nature, always
alert of mind, always enthusiastic of spirit.
His letters were as full of pith as his con
versation. Nothing came out in these letters
more frequently than the boyish delight in
his work. It was not done easily, but with
great and oftengrievous labor labor of con
ception, of construction, and of repeated
writinr and rewriting and yet he held to
it, clung to it, and when torn from it by
sickness returned to it in health with the
fiercest eagerness of the literary aspirant.
If ever was authorship less of a trade to any
author, though he was a competent business
man, and knew how to make the most of his
market. To write stories was a passion to
him, and he was as much a slave to it when
he was beginning the story which he left un
finished at his death as he had been 25 years
earlier, before fame had come to him, or
fortune seemed within his grasp. I had good
reason to know how much his work took
out of him, for I saw him repeatedly while
he was writing "The Legacy of Cain" and
"Blind Love." Alter the first of these he
seemed utterly prostrated and incapable of
ven the least bodily exertion. I then prayed
of him to take rest, and he laughed and said,
"Physician, heal thyself." "When I saw
him again soon afterward he was deep in
"Blind Love." I remonstrated, and he
asked how it was with me. Unluckily I
fell an easy prey to his retort, so we laughed
together at the dunderheadedness we shared
in common. Then, as l remember, he tola
me of another friend a very unliterary one
as I gathered who had remonstrated in an
other fashion (and vastly more effectively)
the day before. On healing that Collins
had begun a new story on the head of one
that had nearly killed him, this discerning
soul had said, ""Wilkie, you're a clever fel
low, a very clever fellow, though you try to
deceive people. But I know what's wrong
with you you're mad."
"Wilkie had many good stories, and he
told them well and in a manner altogether
his own. "Wilkie's style was quiet, but em
phatic, precise, and perhaps slow, the points
cumulative in their effect and most carefully
led up to, and ending always in complete
success. The pistol never missed fire when
Wilkie pulled the trigger. His memory
was strong, and his store of good things was
very plentiful.
Some of bis stories concerned bis own
novels and their readers, and I recall one of
them that relates to the "Woman in "White."
Immediately after the production of that
book, when all England was admiring the
arch villainy of the Fat Fosco, the author
received a letter (which still exists) from a
lady who has since figured very largely in
public view. She congratulated him upon
the success with somewhat icy cheer, and
then said, "But, Mr. Collins, the great fail
ure of your book is your villain. Excuse me
if I say you really do not know a villain.
Tour Count Fosco is at least a very poor
one, and when next you want a character of
that description I trust you will not disdain
to come to me. I know a villain, and have
one in my eye at this moment, that would
far eclipse anything I have ever read of in
books don't think I am drawing upon my
imagination. The man is alive and con
stantly under my gaze. In fact he is my
own husband!"
These were the lady's words as nearly as
I can remember them. , Shall I say who she
was? She was the wife ot the'late Lord
Lytton. And this mention of the "Woman
in "White" reminds me of a story which I
may or may not have heard fiom "Wilkie's
own lips, but seems nevertheless veracious.
After the story had been written (or partly
written, for "Wilkie told me one day that
down to "BJind Love" he had never been
more than five instalments ahead of his
printers) and the time had come to begin
its serial publication, a title had not yet
been fonna. A story could not be pub
lished without a title, but neither the author
nor his friends could hit on one that seemed
suitable. Dickens had been appealed to,
and had failed. So had Forster, who was
prolific in good titles. "Wilkie was in de
spair. The day was approaching when the
story must begin in "All the Year Bound."
So one day the novelist took himself off to
Broadstairs, determined not to return until
a title had been found. He walked for
hours along the cliff between Kingsgate and
what is called Bleak House; he smoked a
case of cigars, and all to no purpose; then,
vexed and much wora by the racking of his
brains, he threw himself on the grass as the
sun went down. He was lying facing the
North Foreland Lighthouse, and half in
bitter jest, half unconsciously, he began to
apostrophise it thus:
"You are ugly and stiff and awkward
you know you are; as stiff and as weird as
my white woman white woman woman in
white the title, by Jove!"
It was done; a title had been hit upon,
and the author went back to London de
lighted. Dickens was much pleased with
the name, and the story began its career.
Such is said to have been the origin of one
of the finest titles any novel ever had at
least the story sounds much like one of
"Wilkie Collins'.
He wrote the book, and was quite ex
hausted at the end of it So he made ar
rangements for its publication in the library
form, and went away for a long holiday in
a place at some distance (I think he said at
sea in a yacht), where letters could not
reach him. "When he returned home be
found his desk piled mountains high with
letters from correspondents, and newspapers
containing reviews. Also he found his
mother (he was still living under the
parental roof) in great distress over the
severity with which the book had been
handled in the press. "Well," he said,"let
us see." So he read the reviews first. They
were nearly all as bad as it is in the way of
our kind of critics to make them I have
seen a few and can vouch for the judgment.
Then he read the letters, and they brimmed
over with eulogy. "Now," thought "Wilkie,
"this teaches me a lesson. These letters
are nearly all from total strangers, and may
be said to represent in some measure the
general public These reviews are by pro
fessional writers, some of them my friends.
Either the public is right and the press
wrong, or the press is right and the public
is wrong. Time will tell. If the public
turns out to be right, I will never trust the
press again."
Thus he waited for the final verdict of
time, and it seemed to come confidently
enough, and the end ot it was that Collins
lost nearly all faith in review articles, and
even went the length of grievously under
stating their effect on public opinion. I can
say with certainty, that during my knowl
edge of him he was all but totally indiffer
ent (except in the cases of important arti
cles like Mr. Quitter's) to what the news
papers said about his works.
He was more sensitive when thev dis-
;c.us4 hj &tbU&iapd obaranter-r&sjJtfe
was almost 'that of a 'hermiL During' the
last two or three years he went out very
little rarely or never to the theater, and
only once or twice to a dinner. .He saw a
few triends at his house at Wimpole street,
Mr. Holman Hunt, Mr. Piggott Mr. Watt,
Mr. Chatto, Mr. Tales, Mr. Qailter, Mr.
Besant (I think), and his doctor and old
friend, Mr. Beard, was constantly by his
side. With all the surroundings o'f an in
valid, he had quite a morbid terror of being
written about as a dying man. "My heart
is not affected," he would say, "and there is
nothing amiss with me but what they call
stomachic nervousness or something like
it." All the same he was a dying man dur
ing the whole period of my acqaintance
with him, and this brings me very near to
Willesden Junction on my journey to Lon
don, as well as to the last point in my garru
lous talk about Wilkie Collins.
One day toward the beginning of 1888, I
called upon him at Wimpole street in great
excitement about a difference which I
bad iust had with a collaborates over
a question of art in the drama. I wished
him to adjudicate in the dispute, and he
cordially undertook to do so. "State the
difficulty." he said, and I stated it with
much lulness. He stopped me again and
again repeated, questioned and com
mented. Two hours went by like ten min
utes. We were sitting in Wilkie's work
shop, with proofs of his current work every
where about us. The point was a knotty
one, and a very serious issue seemed in
volved in it. Wilkie was much worried.
'My brain is not very clear," he said once
or twice, taking a turn across the room.
Presently, and as if by a sudden impulse, he
opened a cabinet and took out a wine glass,
and what seemed to be a bottle of medicine,
and was labelled with the name of a well
known London chemist. "I'm going to
show you one of the secrets of my prison
house," he said with a smile. Then he
poured from the bottle a full wine glass of a
fin aid resembling port wine in color. "Do
you see that?" he asked: "It's laudanum."
Straightway he drank it off. I was all but
"Good heaven, Wilkie Collins," I said,
"how lone have you taken that drug?"
"Twenty years," he answered.
"More than once a day?"
"Ob, yes, much more. Don't be alarmed.
Bemember that De Quincy used to drink
laudanum out of a jug."
Then he told me a story.too long to repeat,
of how a man servant os his own had killed
himselt by taking less than half of one of
Hs doses.
"Why do you take it?" I asked.
'"To stimulate the brain and steady the
"And you think it does that?"
"Undoubtedly," and laughing a little at
my consternation he turned back to the dif
ficult subject I had come to discuss. "I'll
see it clearer now. Let us begin again," he
"Wait," I said, "you say, my dear fel
low, that the habit of taking laudanum
stimulates your brain and steadies your
nerves. Has it the same effect on other
"It had on Bulwer Lytton," answered
Collins, "he told me so himself."
"Well, then, Wilkie Collins," I said,
"you know how much I suffer from brain
and nervous exhaustion. Do you advise me
to use this drug?"
He paused, changed color slightly, and
then said quietly, "No."
It was the old story, and perhaps I would
not go back on it, with all its melancholy
side lights of self-deception, and great suf
fering, borne in persistent self-blindness,
but that I see in to-day's World that Ed
mund Yates fa much older and more re
sponsible friend of Collins') has openly dis
cussed it.
I think 'the last time I saw Collins I
lunched with him at Wimpole street. He
was in great spirits, and very full of
"Beminiscences" that be intended to write.
He talked of all bis old friends with anima
tion, the friends of his youth, "airgone,
the old familiar faces;" and there was less
than usual of the dull undertone of sadness
that had so often before conveyed the idea
of a man who knew that he had strutted too
long on his little stage. That was nearly
always the sad feeling left after a day spent
with 'Wilkie Collins. But on this occasion
his spirits were high and almost boyish; he
enjoyed his wine and some old brandy that
came after it, and a couple of delicious
little cigars of a new brand, which he loudly
recommended. The more serious questions
of literature and morality were all ban
ished, yarn followed yarn, and one wild
story he told with great glee of some crack
brain who thought he would checkmate the
"universal provider" by ordering a white
elephant. 1 can only remember a single
sad note in his conversation and it was
ominous. He was talking of Dickens, and
I think he said that he had been engaged to
visit at Gad's Hill on the very day that
Pickens died.
A (ev days later Wilkie wrote inviting
me to lunch, but naming no particular dayT
I was to go what day I liked, only remem
bering to send a telegram two or three hours
in advance of me. So one Sunday morn
ing early in July (I think) of thisyear I
am ill at these numbers I wrote him a
letter telling him that I meant to visit him
the following day, and asking him for a
telegram saying if the day wonld do. In
stead of "Wilkie's telegram there came a
message from his affectionate adopted
daughter, Mrs. Bartley, saying that on the
previous morning our poor dear Wilkie
had been struck down with paralysis.
The two months that followed were an
anxious time for those of us who loved him,
and it seems like doing some violence to
sacred things to set down one's feelings
He is gone now, the good, staunch soul.
He may have had his weaknesses. I know
of very few. He may have had his sins. I
never heard tell ot any. He was loyal and
brave, and sweet and unselfish. He had
none of the vices of the literary character,
envy and malice and unchflrit.ibleness. In
the cruel struggle far livelihood that de
pends on fame he injured no man. He lived
his own life, and was beloved Ay his own
people. A great tree has fallen in the for
est, and left a wide clearing,
Where was the profession of letters at
Wilkie Collins' graveside to-dav? I saw
very little of it. Art, the drama and jour
nalism were adequately represented; but
three or four men of letters were all (so far
as I could judge) who stood for the craft
that the distinguished dead practiced. Was
this as it should have been? Would it
have occurred if Collins had died 20 years
ajo? True indeed it is that the friend of
Dickens, of Beade and of Lytton had out
lived his generation. The nice of novelists
is large enough, yet two only of Wilkie
Collins' brother novelists followed him to
his grave. But the great pnblic were there
to see the last of him. He had cheered
many of their heavier hours, purified
life for them, sweetened and ennobled it
And to-day they did not lorzet their debt
Hall Caine.
The Hurler Sons.
My soul to-night is a-weary.
Haunted, I know not wby,
By dreams of a strange wild legend
Oft told in the days gone by. ,
Cool fall the airs of evening,
Tranquilly glides the Bhine,
Mirroring bank and summit
Tinted In red sunshine.
High on a rock is sitting
A maiden so wondrous fair,
Badiant in garments golden,
Combing her golden hair;
Combing with comb all golden,
And singing a wistful song,
A melody faint but resistless.
So tender, so sad, so strong.
It reaches a youthful boatman,
Entrancing his heart so warm;
Nor rock, cliff, nor water heeds he
He sees but one radiant form!
Alas! alas! young boatman,
Too well do we know thy doom
No wonder the Lurley singing
Has left my soul In gloom.
E. Hoth in Philadelphia Timet.
One of New York's most fashionable
Fifth avenue modistes completes her
toilettes bv. Jliirnll''tJaeketrjiAtLiiivin' 1
achet Powder. I
Where Leather for Shoes Comes From
and How it is Prepared.
Importing Hides From South American and
Mexican Ranches.
Since the day that Adam and Eve ex
changed fig leaves for fu-s the human ani
mal has had a habit of clothing himself in
the integument stripped from his dumb
brothers. How, when, or where hides were
first converted into leather no wise man ever
pretends to know. Doubtless the process
was evolved, not invented.
Leather certainly antedates the earliest
records, and no savage tribe, however low in
the scale, has yet been found ignorant of
some way to dress skins. Our American In
dians, in especial, are pastmasters of the art.
Bude as are their processes, deer, bear or
buffalo robes dressed by them are far ahead
of those that white men supply, while the
buckskin of their mocasins, leggins, and so
on, is a positive luxury lb the touch, so soft
and pliant is it.
Neat cattle furnish bides for more ihan
half the world's leather. Next to them
come goats, and after them the East Indian
buffalo and the sheep. Horse hides are in
considerable in amount and of low value.
Pigskin used for saddles is in limited de
mand and supply. Dogskin and ratskin for
gloves are mere items of account, not at all
equal to the kangaroo skin, which has quite
superseded some grades of calf, while deer
hides famish glove leather, as well as that
for a variety of other needs.
In 1886 New York imported from all
sources about $7,500,000 worth of leather.
In 1889 the amount fell to a little over
$6,000,000. The home supply of hides is far
below the demand, spite of all the cattle
upon our 10,000 western hills.not to mention
the plains of Texas or the ranches of New
Mexico. Mexico herself sends us many
hides, both ot steer and goat Indeed, she
ranks next to South America, from whence
comes two-thirds of pur importatiqns. For
a dozen years past hides have been admitted
duty free, to the great and manifest better
ment of the whole leather industry.
The, heaviest, consequently the best, ox
hides' come from Buenos Ayres. They
weigh over 20 pounds each, and fetch 16
cents per pound. Big fortunej have come
out of making "flint" hides that is, pur
chasing the hides from the plainsmen, soak
ing them for weeks in saturated salt water.
then dyeing and selling them. The advance
in price is nominal, but each hide takes up
ten pounds or so of salt, and this yields a
big profit, besides cost and carriage. New
Orleans is the main seat of the business in
North America, as it is also the great in
terior entrepot for hides of all sorts. The
20-poundtox hides all go to sole leather.
Cow skins and those from young cattle fur
nish the kipskin of commerce, and the hides
of animals a year old or under all the sev
eral dozen varieties of calfskin.
For cheap work, both kip and calf are
often split that is divided by machinery
into two sheets, each by courtesy called
leather. It will wear lor a day or maybe a
week, but it is about the most unsatisfactory
investment the bargain-seekers can make.
The first thing is to cut the hides in two.
Then they are soaked in limewater four
days, milled for six hours to free them from
loosened hair, then Washed clean and left
for four days to sweat. After that comes the
acid bath, lasting five to ten days, and next
the tan vats, six in number, filled with
ooze of varying strength, in which the hides
remain from five to 60 days. Once the
process stretched over a year. Modern in
vention has reduced it one-half. It is
claimed that the new electric process will
make good leather in a month's time; but
so far that remains to be demonstrated, at
least, on a commercial scale.
Oak bark, hemlock bark and the now.
dered leaves of sumao are the things that
supply tannin. The bark is coarsely ground
and steeped in fresh water to make ooze for
the vats. A very late invention is a mill for
grinding oak wood, as well as bark, into a
sort of coarse meal, which, it is claimed,
makes a double quantity of the very best
ooze, at less than half cost
Once through the vats, the hides are
washed again, scraped anew on the flesh
side, curried with tanner's oil, whose source
is those cod livers that are not fresh enough
for medicine; then steam-dried, pressed be
twixt hot rollers, and send to market the
"sides of sole leather" that everybody
The bulk of it is hemlock tanned. That
bark is cheaper and gives a harder finish,
which is thought to stand rough usage best.
Oak leather fetches always a cent or two
more in the pound, and is invariably used
for fine footwear, as well as wheneverleather
ot peculiar strength and toughness is re
quisite. There are many big houses in New
York City, which deal in nothing but cut
soles. They buy leather in quantity, cut it
by machinery in the most approved patterns,
and can supply shoe men with exactly what
they want, at a great savingof time, expense
and material. A curious feature cf the
leather trade is that while Philadelphia and
Boston have each more shoe manufactories
New York leads both largely in sales of raw
material and of the finished goods.
Kipskin goes through much the same
process only less so. Being thinner, it re
quires less time and care. More chemicals
too, are used in tanning it, and when fin
ished, much of it is blacked ready for the
boot or shoemaker. As much of the best
sole leather goes to the maker of leather
belting, so the hnest of kip falls to the har
ness and saddle makers, who also use a good
bit of fine russet calf.
Nearly all of the finest calfskin is im
ported from France. It is and will likely
remain the favorite for men's shoes, though
kangaroo leather, runs it closely. Indeed
so popular has that become that Australian
governments which began by offering boun
ties for kangaroo scalps have now decreed a
close'season six months long, each year, to
prevent the extermination of the qneer ani
mal. Its skin comes hither via London and
Calcutta, and furnishes a leather pleasant
enough to the toot, but liable to stretch all
out of shape, if wet, and not very carefully
dried. .'
Goatskins, whence come kid and morocco
leather, are sent to us from Southern Eu
rope, Mexico and South America. The
very bert are shipped from Brazil or Cura
coa. Formerly they were tinned with
sumac; now the alum process is mainly used.
Each of the big factories, however, has its
own formula, and guards it jealously as the
corner stone of success. It is known, though,
that after tanning the skins are beaten in a
bath of yolk ot egg also that albumen is
largely used in some stages. Glazed kid
not so long ago under ban of fashion, is now
the height ot style. "Pebble" surfaces are
produced by machinery, and are given only
to the heavier grades ot stuff.
Sheep skin, as befits its varied uses, comes
from pretty well everywhere. It is the
foundation of the parchments that license
men to practice on the bodies or the pockets
of their fellow-men, no less than of the
"chamois" that the street fakir flourishes
imploringly in your face. It served, too,
for "morocco" linings, for insoles, for welts,
Iiipings, what not In fact, its uses are
egion. It, too, is tanned with alum. Coun
try housewives who own flocks and kill
their own mutton maybe interested to know
that they may tan themselves handsome
rugs by covering the flesh side of a fresh
skin, thickly with powdered alum and salt
in equal quantity, letting it lie three
then trim, scrape off all loose flesh,
fhrnllfH - twn - nii endt .lrti 'and- iiulliMVif
n a "trail to dry. Let it remain a week,
then take down and beat over a beam until
pliant, ,
All the lighter 'skins are nsed to make the
so-called "Russia leather." There are manu
factories of it galore, but only one turns out
goods with 'true Buisian smell, which comes
from dressing the leather at the finish with
empyreumater oil of birch, which this house
alone imports at an enormous coat from Rus
sia. It is said that the secret of the odor was
so guarded by the Bussians that for years
and years our tanners got no clew to it de
spite their best endeavors. Then our Mini
ster to Bussia was a practical man, and iu
course of his official life found it easy to
penetrate the secret More, he spent some
time in the factories there watching the
manner of using it; came home with a head
full of knowledge, and from it quickly
realized a fortune. ,
The dyeing of leather is In itself an art
Its followers pay strict heed to the caprices
of fashion. What colors she di esses in,
silks or ribbons, they straightway begin to
dye for and rarely dye in vain. What
with fans, belts, bags, bands, even bonnets,
fair woman manages to make way with a
good deal more than her shoe leather. For
awhile she so pinned her faith and fancy to
alligator skin that the saurian was in dan
ger of extermination. American iBvention,
however, came to the rescue. Machinery
was devised to give plain calf or sheep the
coveted diamond markings, which, together
with the marked abatement of the usage, as
sures us that plenty of the big reptiles will
be left for seed. ' All the more so. that it
'has been shown his hide is not waterproof
when tanned, as was once a cardinal article
of the shoemaker's faith.
Patent leather is made by covering fine,
lightweight calfskin with the varnish that
gives it its peculiar gloss. Sweet oil is used
to keep the leather soft, and is the only
thing that should be applied to it when in
wear. It may be well to add that while
mud or water does but little harm to a good
article, sudden attenuations of heat and cold
will invariably crack and ruin it
About the costliest as well as the most
peculiar leather in the world is that known
as "piano leather." It is made solely from
the skin of a small deer peculiar to one dis
trict of Germany, and its manufacture has
for ages been handed down from father to
son in a single family in the district It
costs nearly its own weight in gold. Efforts
are now being made to naturalize the ani
mal furnishing the skin in a part of Michi
gan very similar to its native habitat
Should they succeed there is a chance that
we may rob the old world of another of its
peculiar institutions.
"There is nothing like leather," says the
proverb, and truly. Absolute human neces
sities rank about thuswise: Salt, iron,
leather. The aluminum age may dethrone
iron, but salt will always be needed to save
the world's bodies, and leather no less to
give comfort to its soles.
M. C. WlLIilAMS.
Frankincense Will Drive Pests and Odors
From the Home.
Kev. Father Shea, in Globe-Iemocrat,l
One of the most pleasant and one of the
cheapest things to use about the house as a
deodorizer is frankincense the same used
at the altar to typify the sweet savor of as
cending prayers in the nostrils ot our
Father. Nothing will so effectually drive
away the damp, heavy odor that prevails so
largely in darkened rooms. The penetra
ting of its fumes is remarkable. When I
search in the sacristry closets for the holy
vestments after an absence from the parish,
lean determine whether frankincense has
been properly used, as the tell-tale perfume
will 'get into the minutest corners. It pre
serves clothing, too, from the ravages of
insects. I never observed closely, but I
have often been told that the mosquito.will
travel from it in haste and stay there.
I cannot recollect being met by one of
those pests in a Catholic Church. A great
deal of mystery surrounds this simple drug,
however, a3 many people imagine the Cath
olic clergy have" a patent on it. The fact is.
it is a simple compound of gum arabrdand
cheap spices, and most any druggist will
give a pocketful foradime. Still others think
the Church proscribes it, but this is error,
as the Church cares not how much a man
uses so he obtains it honestly. I would re
commend a little, burned daily in the house
of every Christian.
The Qneer Bed Chosen by a Pretty Chicago
Cblcaco Herald.l
Over en the Westside is a very handsome
young lady who is afflicted with somnam
bulism. When she puts her pretty head
upon the pillow at night she does not know
what may befall her before she awakes in
the morning, and she worries a great deal
over this strange affliction. Her people
watch her as closely as possible, butjhe ob
jects to any regular espionage during her
sleeping hours. One night not long ago she
went to bed at the usual hour. Along about
1 A. M. her sister, who slept in an adjoining
room, awoke and went to see if the girl was
all right Her bed was empty and her door
was open. The house was aroused and a
search lor "La Somnambula" was begun.
She was found but where? Curled up
in a little ball on the coal in the cellar coal
bin sleeping soundly. She was aroused
quietly and went hack to her bed, where
sue slept well until morning. In her dreams
she must have imagined that the coal cost
more than a good bed, and she was about
A Bee' Idle Moment.
Lewlston Journal.
History is full of instances in which a
small and insignificant bit of vitality has
accomplished great results, from the day
that the mouse let out the lion down to the
present time. Another case was added to
the list, in the town of Harmony the other
day. An idle bee came along and for want
of better business stung a man's horse.
When the remnants of that team were
gathered up.behold there were 12 baskeisful.
That little bee had wrecked a big batcher
Dress l'arnde at the Fort.
She Lieutenant Gray, for what purpose
is that little square box back of your belt?
Lieutenant Gray Oh, it is to carry blank
cartridges and powder, don't you know.
She (wbo has seen the Lieutenant leading
the german) I thought it was to hold a
powder rag.
Autumn Prairies.
Wide, shadow-dimpled amber leas
Stretch far away before the door;
The grasses, rolled
By autumn's breeze,
Recall the tales that seers of yore
Wrote of deep-waved Hesperian seas
Of molten gold.
The clonds that in a foamy train
Creep slowly through an opal sky
Through darkling blots
Upon the plain
Like fabled Blessed Isles tbey lie
Amid the sunsliine-flooded main,
In shadowed spots.
Wild purple asters swing and sway
Dark beacon banners, tall and grave;
The golden rod.
Like yellow spray.
Upholds Its head with bearing brave,
And wind-flowers show their suits of gray
Above the sod.
Where yonder prairies fade to mist,
There hangs a line of blushing baze;
Tbe smoky hills
Are splendor-kissed
By iair October's gleaming rays.
The meadow larks in glee persist
To sound their trills.
Tls joy upon tho spreading mead:
Yetin those .plains of saffron light.
In bird-tones clear,
In flower and weed,
In bending skies so strangely bright,
C. M. Bargerin 'jDttroU JVe Prm.
New York's Beantifnl and Haughty
Soda Water Cashiers Who
Young Society Women's Craze for Locks of
BilTer Gray.
New York, October 12.
WENTZ years ago
when you wanted to
see the "lady cash
ier" you'bad to go
to Europe. That Is
written on the au
thority of a middle'
aged man. My re
collection runs not
so far back. Our
girls were very nice
and exclusive then.
But, as that singu
larly observing Bo
man author acutely
remarked, "times change," and here we are,
before the experiment is fairly of age, so to
speak, with as manv lady cashiers as there
are in the city of Paris, At least I think
there are as many; for although there is not
a wine shop or cafe in the French capital
which is unsupplied with one of th&e highly
interesting objects of decoration and use,
still the Parisian public continues to exist
without soda water, while the enormousness
of this business with us, a lady cashier going
to each fountain, swells the domestic aggre
gation of lady cashiers to incalculable pro
portions. The finest soda water fountains and the
finest soda water lady cashiers in New York
are grouped within a comparatively small
area about the City Hall square. There are
wonderful places in the shopping district up
town, of course, but in point of size and
magnificence the downtown fountains are
unparalleled, and
who handle their enormous revenues are un
speakably more distinguished than the best
specimens that Sixth avenue and upper
Broadway afford. I sat half an honr on a
settee yesterday and studied one of the
I use the word "distinguished" advisedly,
as the lawyers say of a hard name when
they want "to rub" it in. Nearly all lady
cashiers are beautiful, but when it comes to
language, bearing, facial expression and all
that, there are lady cashiers and lady cash
iers. The City Hall Square lady cashiers
I may use the somewhat clumsy term for tbe
Eurpvse of lucid differentiation have
auteur, a London accent, and manicured
finger nails. They are duchesses,every one,
in all that is concerned with outward form.
I do not think that they are really English.
They are so remarkably pretty, but their
breeding has been accomplished upon tbe
most unmistakable and to-ploftiest English
lines. It is qnite terrible for a diffident
man to be obliged to. pass in the price of a
glass of soda water to them as they sit so
wonderfully and awiuuy in their splendid
wickerwork cages. It seems so bold, so
vulgarly intrusive and offensive to lav a
nickel down upon the glass plate before
them and shove the mean little thing in
npon their loveliness and privacy. I sus
pect that many a poor devil has given up
his soda water drinking through sheer lack
ot courage to face the terrors of this sort of
thing. '
Do you know, oh diffident male reader,
precisely the sensation? Have you not felt
the panic stealing over you as you have
stood before the soda-water lady cashier and'
handed in your 5 cent piece? To see her be
hind her vase of deep red roses, cilmly read
ing a novel printed in large text jn a broad,
pure margin; to behold her attention dis
tracted by the base click of your paltry
coin; to suffer the slow contemptuous sweep
of her eyes from her book to your money,
and the somewhat spatulous digit behind it;
to hear the deliberate music of her bangle as
she wearily lifts her hand; to see her own
rosy, taper, perfectly cared-for finger de
scend wearily and fearfully upon the money,
as though it had the smallpox, and send it
with a auick. sharp flip, jingling into the
drawer, and then to observe her renew her
novel without even so mucn as -a giance at
your interesting face do you know any
thing, oh diffident reader, that has ever sent
you down further and with a colder and
more hopeless humiliation info your boots?
and you scrubbing your mustacne witn lev
erish zeal all the while in order that when
tbe proud and peerless creature looked you
over she might discover no froth upon itl
"I'm sorry, madam, but it is impossible."
"Are you sure?"
"It is absolutely out of the question,
A slender, rather fresh-faced young
matron had left her carriage in front of a
Fourteenth ' street establishment where
time's ravages upon the beauty of the
female face are repaired with neatness and
celerity and was discussing a certain matter
warmly with the clerk. in charge.
"But it would become me so much, don't
you see?"
"Unquestionably it would, but it cannot
be done."
"Are you sure of that? I saw Mrs.
Brown yesterday with the loveliest gray
hair I ever saw and she ain't a day older
than lam."
"She wore a wig."
"I don't believe it."
"But it is true, nevertheless," replied the
clerk, "and I know it, because we made it
here." ,,
After the young matron had left the shop
the clerk turned to the writer with a sigh of
relief aud observed:
"That is the tenth so far this week."
"Tenth what?" I asked.
"Tenth miracle seekers. You have no
idea of the craze there is for gray hair.'
Young women, especially those with fresh
complexions, are absolutely wild about it
'It gives to a face that is not striking a cer
tain effect that must be seen to be appre
ciated. I don't wonder that tbe women all
envy the owner of a fine head of gray hair.
But graying the hair is beyond the hair
dresser's art We can make hair yellow as
gold, red as copper, black us a ravens wing
and as brown as the coat of a deer in win
ter, but gray is out of our power We can
often maKe wigs of gray which would defy
detection. You remember the late Matthew
Arnold's visit to America? When he was
in Washington be said, with his accustomed
candor, that he had met there the hand
somest woman in the world. She was the
wife of ex-Senator Joseph A. MacDonald, ,
of Indiana. Mrs. MacDonald is a slender
woman with flashing dark gray eyes, a com
plexion of peaches and cream, and has a
wonderful head of"whitish gray hair. She
would be an ordinary looking woman were
it not for her hair."
"Is there no way of graying the hair by
artificial means?"
"Yes, but the artifice is transparent
Women can use powder sprinkled over tbe
hair after it is arranged, but unless they
have black or very dark brown bair the
effect is bad. The man who can invent
some other method has a fortune within his
He opened a few boxes that he toobdown
from a shelf. Tbey were filled with tresses
of various colors and of various lengths.
"Here is a fine head of yellow," he said.
"It is worth 510. Here is one of brown that
I will sell for half that sum. But for one
pound ol gray or white' hair I will pay $800,
There is not one woman out of a thousand
j& L J
who fea a pound of hair oh her head.
Wosaea who hare half a pound are extreme
ly rare, and moat women only have from
three to five ounce. That is not half enough
for a witr Look at these."
Here the wig-maker displayed a lot of
bunches varying in bulk and length, and
of all (imaginable tints save white or
gray.There were bunches of brown, yellow,
black and red. They were worth from 8 to
$10 each, and represented the entire market
valne of a woman's head of hair. Such a
lot only brnnzht to the owner a bare dollar
or perhaps less. ,
"No, added the wig-makerin conclusion,
j. wouia not aavise a yount.omau to cut
off her hair and sell it unless she happens-to
have either gray or white hair. An ordi
nary head of hair will not bring as much as
will par for a plain switch, and as for a'
wig, it willnot pay for the making of it"
Claea Belle.
Amusing-Things fipokea and Written by a
Maine Teacher's Paplls.
LewUton JonrnLl
I once saw a book entitled "English as
She is Taught" Some of the ridiculous
blundersjl read there led me to collect a
few mistakes of my own pupils. I have
not had time to gather many gems, but I
think some of them are rare ones. Writ
ten examinations bring ont what a pupil
knows and what he doesn't know also.
Grammar has yielded some of the choicest
specimens. One boy says' a "principle is a
verbal adjective." That boy was a satirist
without knowing it
An exercise in the grammar called for a
sentence containing Greece for a subject
"Greece runs," was the very original sen
ence brought in.
"An intransitive verb is one that denotes
an action tormenting an object. The other
referred' to in this case was probably the
A pupil one day proudly remarked that
an "artillery" verb was one used to assist
in conjugating another verb. The teacher
could not help asking him Were not the verb
he used to shoot his lessons with.
"Write a sentence containing the word
is." This request, one Friday afternoon, 1
movea a tune gin with a spotted face to
write, "My aunt Isabella has anan."
"A verb is modified by an adverb," wrote
another little dame.
Some very rare fruit dropped from the
history branch or the educational tree.
"At the battle of Monte Cristo General
Sloth commanded the Mexicans and Gener
al Lincoln commanded the Americans."
One genius, was inspired to proclaim that
the four Presidental candidates for 1860
were "Lincoln. Dudley and Belle." An
other declared that they were "Henry
Clay, Franklin Pierce, Daniel Webster and
Magior Anderson."
The largest, seaport in Mexica is Sarah
"The principal products of the United
States are tobacco, oranges and Indiana."
In physiology we are told that the "blood
flows through the body in tubs, "and that the
"heart is a peer-shaped body situated exact
ly iu the middle of tbe chist"
The cuticle is the inside of the outside,"
says one embryo anatomist
B. P. Shillaber Regretfully Acknowledges
Tnat the. Old Lady Is Dead.
When the name of Mrs. Partington was
mentioned B. P. Shillaber, of Boston, the
author of, that famous lady's sayings,
stated to a Detroit Free Prttt correspond
"The old lady has gone tocher grave. I
have written a book about her, but hare de
cided not to publish it, because nowadays
the publisher' wants all the profits. It was
quite by. accident that the old lady became
famous at first It was in 1847 that my Mrs.
' Partington was born. One night we had
some news about breadstuffs from New En
gland and I printed the comment that 'Mrs.
Partington could continue to pay SO cent
for a half dollar's worth of flour, the same
as ever. It went the rounds of the coun
try." "How did you happen to write about
"Ike was the universal human boy." an
swered Mr. Shillaber, as his mind looked
backward lovingly: "They have always
seemed like real people to me. A friend of
mine in Tennessee was at an eating house
and heard a discussion between two men
about Mrs. Partington, one saying that she
was a reat woman, tne otner maintaining.
tnat it was a man, till tbe lint party rose
up, and, striking the table with his hand,
shouted; 'I know she is a woman for I have
seen her!' "
The Captain Thinks It a Shell and 588 Men
Laugh at Him.
!ew York Sun.'S
When -we were advancing at the battle of
Chantilly to take our position in battle line,
the Captain of my company look occasion
to show off a bit in the presence of several
general officers. Instead of being in his
place according to regulations, he stepped
out in front of the company and kept wav
ing his sword towards the rebels, exhorting
us, as we loved the dear old flag, to stand
firm and die like brave men. Pretty soon,
as -we were approaching a thicket in an old
field, a thumping big hog, which was in
hiding and terrified half to death, charged
full at the Captain, upset him in aheap,and
made his escape through our ranks.' As
we came up with the Captain who had
turned on the broad of his back he called
"Boys, I'm struck by a shell! Go right
on and die with your faces to the foel"
"Shell be durnedl" replied one of the
men. "Ton were hit by a hogl Get up
aud come on."
Five hundred men caw the accident and
had a laugh over it, and we suddenly got
the commands. "Haiti Front! Kneel!
Fire at will L" the cheers of the rebel skir
mishers advancing in front of their battle
line were answered by peals of laughter
from our front es the hog-struek Captain
limped In" the rear.
Not on the Tented Field.
Jones had been entertaining a few friends
at dinner. Ordering coffee to be served in
tbe library, he led tbe way to that apart
ment Taking down a sword that was hanging
on the wall and brandishing it with, much
affectation of martial ardor, he said:
"Never, gentlemen, shall I forget the day
"when I drew this trusty blade for the first
time." -
"And where was that?" asked a curious
"Why, in a raffle."
Blan's I.lfe Is Like the Lean
Now dropping silent ceaseless, fleet,
In open field, iabusy street,
Thform, light driven to and fro,
A carpet rustling under tread.
Faint glowing still, their beauty fled.
Till cmD and withered, broken, dead.
Their eldry lieth low.
Lo, as the countless leaves that fade
The countless race of men are made;
Like leaves tbey spring to sudden birth
upon lire's tree; a little day
They grow, and come to rich array
Or bright success, perchance: away
They soon are borne to earth.
Spring covers autumn strips the trees;
So century after century sees
Man's generations bloom and fade,
Each leaf U flectine season knows;
Though brave tbe splendor tbat it shows,
Death's ct-illing blast remorseless blows;
Withered in dust 'tis laid.
Bat dieth man as dies the leaf r
Cometh his seasons all too brief,
To hopeless nothingness and dostT
Nay, only ashes and the grave;
"The spirit eniHees life shall have
Through faltb ta Xe.wae eeaie to save,"
Saltti.ChriKta waan we trust
v. 0iefO Interior.
A Collection of EUdhM Kits fc
Hg Craeftc,
nrw ammuTueoHofufer vm (Wpanmmi
to E. B. Chadboubw. LewUten, Maine,
Copyright. 188S. brE.B.ChUboara.
CLHl. -1..
Bead the. initials forward and flaals baek--
Tbi WfJflf
ward, and find a name for tbe objeet at the wp ? j
oi toe picture.
770 THE
Green earth the garb of day had desaed.
The sun had risen the hill bevoad,
A warrior clad in armor brigat
To chase away the vanqaisfeed sight
In mood for meditation ripe,
I sat me down to ssoke say pipe.
When, harkl a rat-tat at tbe door!
A dapper geat stands on the Soot .-
One of those itinerant Thnsa
Who murder men by vsodiBg drugs.
His wiles 'tis useless to descrtfea.
My readers know the IoBg-aaJied trifciC,'
xie, aiter many lsteriaaes.
Permission asked to sbow hts zeeds
no uau mree uquras oaoiee aaa rare
To Deal the frame or baaieti ewe.
"JJow, neighbor, spare your diatribe,
You call me fiend -could I Imbihe
This liquid here, yon may depend
I'd prsve myself a faittif at f riead
Tbe halter bere, wbo lives next deer., 4
This outer took when be was peer; li
TTa's nfl 4 (m.t 1lMaAtl !.(..
You may this same in daytime mix, rr''-?
If fond ot pyrotechnic trfeks: v?.'
A fierce explosive then is sees, ,i ; -
As strong as nitroglycerine. .-
You see in third, tbongh seemiae ssaaH,
The oae thtsg ueedf after us aH;
No doubt you'U taint Jay claim aseard
It makes tbe world is a werd," ' ' '
I bade him go I never joked
With frauds like hiia bat as I tmeked,
I thought there might be with a laugh
A grata of truth In all his ete
1. Acts of makingr simple. 2. Enmities. -S
Capable of being consolidated, i. Riek delet
ing. 6. Beckons. 0. Parties. 7. Topreseeate.'
8. An addition to a hease. 9. Part of the feet.
rT)lN 1 13 Tandliu. m . MM...- rim 'i
"- j - AfcH... w ntvB incsnstim. - .
AicbiuiMuun. ia vuatesne. j'j
Rare. Right, up. Wretofacdnoaa. Centra!. ,
w. twtv. unprowCTOBS canoinsioiL:
down. Skepticism.
Hncsn' '
A miner in a western town l. -
Against seven toughs was pitted; i:
Ana knowing to seecarab et deaMlKW
He would not be oatwttted. ' & :
fm.. uaxa .. j m t. .- 3
Asa for revests bad striven!
at mtnvr pmewtcw 40VCN."
niiaaiX W
A dockmaker set three pteeks tosjetheriatlAj."'
noon. One of them lest two minutes a day,' oae ,
gained tr ramates a day, ab4 the third gjrined .'X-m
fourteen minutes a day. What Msse dM.;. the' .- t
three clocks indicate when they were togeiher ,'.
again far the first timer J. H. FKuirsB,
774 rmrmrn-amr -? j
Tli nnntM fflfi had Tlnrl T.nfr r
He'd almost prove that white was Maeav1
wnen asxea to name bm lavonte newer,
To symbolise Columbia's power.
The staff of life asd labor's iev
Is all the flour l'tnead- nrW."
In polities a Desseerat,
I asked him oaee haw ease tt titftt-j.
His party is taetr tote defeat
Were like tbesteeUags on his feet,' ...
When Jack suggested, nothing loth, .
Perhsua. beeania .
1. Alerter. 2. Parte a wheel, i To teaa.&M?
4. Kinds of tenures. 6, Numerates by nead.'tfft3
a. DelirerHl OH. 7. Tito-mtat TTftamit
9. Collection of boxes. (Trass.) la To &i
cern. U. A letter. Feahx,
A sentence you will Had oomploto;
Also, to Jadge ami;
Behead, aad yoa perform a feat
Which brings a watch aajfrh.
Whole. 1 am active, 1 bestow;
Beheaded. I defeod. yoa know. ,
L A letter. 2. A. unit EV OtberwaK.feMTa
cut with scissors or shears. 6. Qu4etv&fA
workman employed in a steam Sear aji.V 7. A
letter of news. S. The corona. 9. Not! either.
10. A Scriptural proper name. II. Left. (Aba.)
12. A letter. Sux.
Tbe first rolls.
The second tolls.
The third lows.
The last sows.
J. a
760 The prisoner took a word from each
name In the following order; Grant rant;
Hood, hod; Wilde, wile: Barns, barn; Twain,
twin: Lever, leer; Sterne, stern; Scott, Scot;
Whittler, wittier: Pope, pop; Keats,; eats;
Aikin. akin; Dante, date; Gray, ray. Password;
"God Save the King." 1. ,
TBI Blnnderbasa.
782 The man's son.
763 Angel-us.
764 Desperation.
T A O L, I A
T H. K K A D
768 Fane, fan, fa,
TOT Column.
788 A violin.
i 8k: Rolled Gold Rings
FriesdsMa KI9S-.
By mail, tight cents
Chased Sins-.
By mail. Twenty cents!
Band Itlmr.
By mall. Thirty cents
Girl's King-.
By mall. Sight cents
tvxldinir King-.
By mall. Fifteen eel
or . ..v.- lnrtflbe1
tto warrant uimoDu'c "-.: w- i
reUedawW. These rloa are waularw J
2? " ? fJ!?naiM in
"i.?i!,2L?,riKS."ssHT. i
w the goods. Postace f3!
hut Htw utttmreA. Send slip OC
AAlreM - -
JSjTliI fcseewaft.!
a- jaw
i -fe&
y t "imFi
- sssssH

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