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\ ============" ,, 4 - i ? .'? .. CHAPTER VII. T Moisiso hide. J lirian saw Margaret returning, and trotting down the book he had been trying to read, he went into the hall to fneet her. Repressing her nervousness his unexpected appearance, she paused as he came up to her with the words: r "Tou have been so long, Margaret. t)id you enjoy your visit so much? Why flidn't you let those people -wait, and Pye me just a little of your company, haven't much chance. I am going away to-morrow." I "To-morrow?" She grasped her raised Bkirt more tightly, but no further comment escaped her lips. Taking this for indifference, Brian continual, after a/brief pause: "I dare jpaj I shall never see you again. Of course you will not regret that, but before I go, I should like to know that you forgive me. If you only knew how I have suffered! If you could realize how I still suffer, you -would be kinder. It la so hard to lose all, Margaret." I* "Have I been so unkind? I am sorry. Have I not told you that I regret, jrith a bitterness I cannot express, the conditions which make me mistress hQXfi? If there i? any way?He interrupted her with passionate renroach. "You do me injustice. Do you suppose I was alluding to the money? I hate the very mention of it. I leave it out of the question. I am thinking of you." > She tapped her foot with her riding whip, and despite the effort to control her countenance, an incredulous expression passed over it. . "You don't believe me," he cried passionately. "Well, I deserve that at your hands, but truth is truth. The very sight of your kindness to others inaddens me. I see how they are favored, and I remember your hardness to mo. I envy the very children who speak to you as you pass. They can be happy "Without your love. I cannot. You need not look your dislike, I feel it. I am destined to offend you so much since I saw you in that place, where only my ?vil fate led me. that I feel no sacrifice ho f?rpn.t for vour salve." i "Isn't tho sensation a novel one?" she asked, steeled to hardness by somo inward remembrance. "I believe -we agreed to leave me out of the question." Brian ground his heel with an exclamation of impatience. "It is useless to hope," he answered bitterly. "You "Will never forget. Hate me if you will, l>ut do not show such contemptuous indifference." "It is not charitable to hate, and forgetfulness does not come so easily as wo might wish." "No," he replied, stung to rejoinder. ml have something to remember, too." She paled perceptibly. "You aro generous," was her passionate answer. "Now perhaps you will allow me to pass." "Ah, no! Margaret, not yet I can't see you go from me so. Forgive mo for what I just said. I meant nothing. I ppend half my time in regretting what ba9 gone before. I cannot stand your anger. Why is all the gentleness in your nature turned against me only?" "I do not know," she answered, half absently, while her face softened visi bly. "Have you anything to ask me?" i "Nothingthat you "will grant; unless, perhaps, it is permission to ride with you to-morrow. Will you allow me that pleasure?" "Iride early,"she answered with hesitation, "but if you care to forego your morning nap I have no objection." "Thank you. You will see how gladly I'll forego that morning nap." "I really didn't expect to see you," Margaret confessed, when they were "both in the saddle nest morning. "I thought " "How could you doubt me?" he interrupted, with some reproach. "I am only too happy to take advantage of this last Chance to spend a little while with you. I'll soon be out of your life entirely. I find it hard to tear myself away." He sighed. His sigh was echoed close beside him, but Margaret's face was impenetrable. wnat a glorious morning, sne remarked rather irrelevantly. ""We shall have a delightful ride." "Are you so fond of riding," he asked, noting her high color and flashing eyes. "Passionately. I feel so light-hearted when I am in the saddle. An hour like this is particularly inspiriting. I love the coolness and the restful quiet, and I love the fresh morning air." "You love the night air, too." Her face flushed at the words. "I suppose you heard me in the garden last night?" she said, bending her head with the pretext of untangling her horse's mane. "The night was perfect, and I couldn't withstand the temptation. I hope you will not speak of it to Miss Hilton. She may begin to V?Ar /lair Kao/1 uV?r?nf tyiq rrnan YtKJliy AiCA uwuu v uig, muvu really I "was only nervous and wakeful. "And you adopted that plan for wooing sleep? Couldn't you have found a more prundent and more effectual one?" "I hate prudence," she broke in, with a suspicion of impatience; "in fact, I revel in imprudence," "I've had ample proof of that," was his tranquil reply. "Why didn't you let 'me play Esculapius, if only to vindicate iny diploma, you know ?" "The idea didn't suggest itself to me, and I don't believe I'd care to be experimented on, anyway. A diploma Isn't a guarantee of ability, you know" "No one can accuse you of kissing the blarney 6tone," he returned, rather grimly. "Sometimes I begin to feai you are too truthful." "No one can be thit. There is The Cedars. No one about. I suppose Col. Barton is an old friend of yours?" "If knowing me since I was kneehigh to a grasshopper implies friendship. he and I must be first-rato chums. I don't fancy I'za an especial favorite In that direction, however. He's a friend of yours, I am sure." "Why ar-' yiu sure?" " RApanso no on? esin hpln lipin<r Vnn have the faculty of making ?\erybody love you, and old men are 110 more proof against it than young ones. It has proved unfortunrte in my case, but he of course, is moi.J favored. I'll begin to wish myself old presently. " ' Tho i shouldst n <t have been old before thou hadst bejn wise!' You should take that Paying to heart. As to the Colonel, he has won his r'ght to my respect and esteem. He has been my most helpful friend in times when I most Seeded help. He U> quick-tempered, to be sure, and expresses his opinion without scruple, but I know him to be upright, honorable, and true as steel. I'd trust him forever." "He has a stanch champion. I wish you had half as good an opinion of me. Speakihg of his temper, he and grandfather never agreed." *1 should think not," was the warm reply. "A warm-hearted, generous man like the Colonel could never admire the hard, cold man your grandfather was. J wonder he could breathe the same atmosphere -grith him." ^ "He" was your gra^f^thgr, too," remarked Brian, ratft&r meekly.* "I don't care to acknowledge the relationship. Please don't speak of him. I commit sin whenever his name is mentioned, and that necessitates after pen&gce. Talk of something more agreeable?do." -"With all my heart. I was never in loV?'w!th him myself. He was forever quoting that abominable saying, which I don't believe was in the Bible, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child," for my especial benefit." "Well, I dare say ho had reason," was the ready response, accompanied by a flash of humor so liae the old Margaret that he began to imagine himself in S'conset again. "You haven't a like objection to Colonel Barton, have you? Tell me whyyoa are not a favorite with him." "I don't know. Perhaps I imagine it. I dare sav he doesn't consider me half 6o worthless as you do. "Who would believe that so fair a face could hide so hard a heart? The tone, as much as his words, vexed Margaret. Her eyes darkened and her voice took on a sharper intonation. "We will discuss neither my face nor my heart, if you please." She gave her horse a sharp blow, which sent him into a hard gallop. Then, with the quick repentance which always followed such outbursts, she pulled up quickly and waited for Brian to join her. This ho did with an air of injured dignity. "Don't look so dreadfully doleful," she called out with an attempt at lightness. "Really you give me the blues. Are you hungry? I'm perfectly ravenpus. If we ride a little faster we'll be home in two minutes." ' ?"I don't want lo be home in two minut. s. I wish this ride would last forever. No, of course you don't; you are thinking of your breakfast, but I Oh, Margaret, I wish you wouldn't trifle with ray dearest feelings." "And Iwish you hadn't such a queer way of coming in with unexpected remarks. You haven't the least idea of the fitness of things. I'm hungry, and I'm going home just as fa6t as this horse will carry me." With these somewhat defiant words she galloped off, and Brian, to give a more forcible expression to his sense of injury, followed at a snail's pace. "When he arrived at Elmwood he found Margaret divested of her riding habit awaiting him in tne dining-room. He pretended not to see the smile with which she greeted him, and during breakfast he maintained a moody silence, which awakened in Margaret a half-grave, half-amused interest. "A thorough baby," she commented, leaving the table when the meal was over and going into the garden, apparently to look at her flowers, in reality to be alone with her thoughts. She walked for an hour in the fresh flower-scented air, and when she returned to tho house her nervous restlessness was so marked that Miss Hilton was both surorised and pained, but she wisely forbore remark. Even when, a short time before luncheon, Margaret stole up behind her chair, and, placing her arms about her neck, said, rather querulously, "I am so tired of the orthodox way of eating, Miss Hilton. Shall wo have our lunch under the trees?" she contented herself with answering: "Do as you like, my dear. I think it will be very nice, and appetizing." "And a change," added Margaret. "How I do want a change. A horrid disposition to have, is it not? Never to be satisfied. I don't know how you put up with me, when I find it so difficult to put up with myself." "Sit down, my dear, and I will tell you," was the quiet reply. "Some other time," said Margaret, quickly. "I hear Cousin Brian. He would prove an interruption. Besides, I must see to our picnic, you know." She was gone when Brian entered the rcom a second later. He noted her absence, and his look of ?i- x ?a?x. J v:~. Z~ disappointment reueuieu aio iccuu^d. "I will send him to her presently," mu6ea the old lady, calling him to sit beside her. CHAPTER VIII. A STRANGE PROPOSAL. Margaret was standing in a veritable shower of sunbeams, when Brian, acting on Miss Hilton's hint., found her under tho trees. "How perfectly charming," he cried, gazing, not at the temptingly'spread table, but at Margaret, whose lovely face seemed to gain new beauty from her surroundings. "What a delightful surprise you have prepared for us. J feel hungry and almost happy." "You have a peculiar way of expressing yourself, Cousin Brian. Are hunger and happiness associated in your mind? I am glad you can laugh. Doleful people give me the blues, and grim looks are not in keeping with this bright sun." "Neither is my heart, for that matter. I have so much to make me miserable. You, everything to make you happy." I, she echoed, with a slight tremor. "I make my own happiness. "I don't know how you manage," he returned gloomily. "I never get what I want." "Then why not be satisfied with what you get? It is much more philosophical." ' How can you speak so lightly," he said with abrupt warmth, "it maddens me to hear you. "What has philosophy to do with misery? Are you always happy? Do you never know the meaning of regret?" "I wish you'd be more careful," 6he said with assumed anger. "You are sitting on the end of the table cloth, and 1 shouldn't be surprised to see every dish in your lap next. I wonder why men are so awkward." "And I wonder why you are so heartless. Your mind is taken up with table cloths, while I Oh, Margaret, how you hurt mo!" Annoyed at the drift of the conversation, Margaret made no pretense of answering, but kept her eyes fixed upon the house in the hope of Miss Hilton's appearance. Noting her indifference, Brian continued in the saino passionate strain. "Why are you so bitter and scornful' Why do you* delight in torturing mei Have you no heart? You can not realize my longing, and you will never sympathize with me. I am tired of being spurned and despised. I have some pride, and I'll not stay another nighl under your roof. I'll go this afternoon then you'll be rid of me." "And if I don't wish to be rid of yoi so soon?" she questioned with an effort. "You told mo you would stay until tomorrow, and I hope you will keep youi word. Besides, I wish " She hesitated. "I wish to talk with you," she concluded with another effort. "I shall be in the library at 3, of half past. "VYil. you come to me there?" He looked at her in some surprise, but her eyes were turned aside and she , was busying herself with some arrangemeat aboyt the t^bl^ .. .. i '"Your request is law to me," he an swored in a low voic? "I am alway happy to do something for you." "And I am always ready to appreciat your effort," was the quick reply. She turned away with a sich of re lief. Miss Hilton had just left th house, and was approaching them, s< there was no further excuse for a tete a-tete. At 3 o'clock the same afternoon Briai entered the library to find Margare seated at a table drawn close to an ope: window? from her position she could see th wealth and beauty of Elmwood, sprea like a map before her Its acres o woodland, timbered by magniflcen trees; its broad extent of orchard in n wildprnafts nf hlnnm. an< its terraced garden sloping to the rivei Einding among the uplands, and reflect ig sparkling vi6tas from a chain o beautiful hiUs. _ <?* Further away lay a broad sweep o undulating land, with the village in th foreground, and beyond many a noa cottage, smart in its coat of paint, o pretentious mansion, crowning a oon venient eminence. Further still, th smoke curling from the quiet farms ly ing under the enchantment that distanc lends. From this picture Margaret turne* with a sigh, to encounter Brian's inquir ing glance. "You are punctual," she said, with i half smile. =WiiI you set down, please? He took possession of the chair indi cated, noting meanwhile that her fac was unusually pale and her voice un naturally quiet. Wondering, yet expec tant, he waited for her next words. "You intend leaving ElmWtwd to-mor row," she resumed, after a pause tha had been embarrassing to both. "Yes," was the answer, given wit] some warmth. "I do not wish to intrud upon you longer. I cannot stay on fro: day to day, making myself more unwel come and incurring only your contempl My sin is past atonement in your eyes I can offer no excuse that will satisf you. I have no hope left, and to-mor row when I isave? ""Where will '/oil go'" she broke ir with a repressed earnestness upon he fa 9 . "Where?" he repeated. "Heaven onl knows. To the devil, probably." She laid down the paper knife she ha been handling half absently, and re garded him fixedly. "I hope you will do nothing so fool ish," she said in a low voice. "It Is nc manly to give up in that way. I hav not called you in here to quarrel wit you, nor do I want to rake up ol troubles; but I do want you to undei stand that, while I acknowledge a cei tain deception on my part in concealin my name from you, I do not hold yo excused thereby. I had a reason fc doing so, a very wise reason, as thing have since turned out. Had you know I was your cousin instead " "I could not have loved you better, he broke in with impulsive earnestnesf "You must do me that much justice." ITO BE OONTINOED.1 Kiilea a siraugc sea Jionsicr. Captain Shannon and bis crew, afte a fierce struggle of over two hourc captured and killed a sea monster ol Caviar, N. J., the likes of which non of the fishermen had ever seen. Th etrange fish weighs about 500 pound and is fifteen feet long, of a light sea color, and is quite slender at tbe tail The head is about two feet long, witi a horn growing from the nose, ani there are two rows of teeth in the larg mouth. The eyes are like thoso of Bhark with an elongated pupil. Th body is covered with a coat of mail or scales that resemble oxydized sil ver. The dorsal tin is very small am there are spout holes in the nose. Th monster is undoubtedly the 6ame on \%na Uaan fVia fiqViormpi at the capes for tho past ten years Some of the fishermen claim that it i a veritable sea serpent. Captain Shannon and several of hi men were laying out their large drif net wnen one of them noticed an ob ject in the water about half a mil down the river. He called the atten tion of Captain Shannon and the res of the crew to the object, which seemei to be making a great commotion i] the water. Suddenly the monste leaped into thB air and the men wer horrified at its proportions. Th< monster moved throngh the wate* s< rapidly that it dashed the spray righi and left. Its head was lifted high ii the air and it was a terrifvin'g-lookinf object as it swam toward the boat in i 1 direct line. Captain Shannon said i' looked like an immense alligator as i ^ v - It. ~1 ?05 nearer ana ne saw mo yieamiuj teeth and glaring eyes. [ As the monster seemed determined to attack the boat, Oaptain Shannoi gave orders for ail hands to secure oars, poles, axes or anything thej could make a fight with, and Etanc ready to give battle. When withii twenty-five feet of the boat the monetei leaped into the air like a porpoise anc dived under the craft. But in going down the Btrange fish or serpent be> came entangled in the net. It ther made a dash lor the boat, carrying the net with it. Captain Shannoi stood in the stern of the craft with s large gaff iron, and as the monstei raised from the water he struck it t terrifio blow on the head. Down th< monster went again, making a circlc around the boat and coming np at the bow. It was completely wound np ir the net by this time, and was sooi killed with an axe and towed ashore. ? Philadelphia Record. J One Feels Chilly When Lying Down The reason is simply tins. xxaiur< > takes the time when one is lying dowi to give the heart rest, remarks Hur ' per'a Bazar, and that organ conse ' quently makes ten strokes less a minuti than when one is in an upright pos ture. Multiply that by sixty minutes , and it is 600 strokes. Therefore ii - eight hours 6pent in lying down th< heart i8 saved nearly 5000 strokes, an( as the heart pumps six ounces of blooi with each stroke it lifts 30,000 ounce 1 less of blood in a night of eight hour spent in bed than when one is in ai J upright position. As the blood flow 30 much more slowly through the vein ? cvhen one is lying down, one must sup r piy xnen wua csira uovenuyo tu warmth usually furnished by circula ' tion. J Iron Mountain Split. I A report has reached Johnson City Tenn., of an immense opening on th i top of Iron Mountain, near the Ten nessee and North Carolina line, whic! ' is six feet wide and one and one-ha] miles long. It is thought to have bee ( caused by the recent very hard rain in that vicinity. The ground becam 1 so saturated that it gave way, causin this mammoth crack. The story i , reported by an eye witness whos 1 veracity is beyond question.?Chatti flooza (Tenn.) Times. J / ; ALL ABOUT WOOL. 0 PREPARING THE STAPLE FOR THE MARKET. 0 0 "Sorting" the Sheared Wool In the Mills?Scouring, Drying and Dyeing?Blending and Mixing ? What Wool Loses in Weight. Q e J | | HE three principal natural ^ ' I fibers which are used in the ,f I manufacture of fabrics, says x. ?t_ ~ nu: t> _ j u tue vuiuago necuru, are coir 1, ton, silk and wool, and tinder a mag^ nifying glass the three are seen to vary '? widely in structure. Cotton is a vegj etable fiber, which flattens and twists when it dries, for it is tubular in its f form and this flat twist gives it the e Jjolding quality needed in textile t fibers. . I ~ & *<-<*.. r A silk filament is almost dead smooth " on its surface, but wool is barbed, its ? scales form little nooks which catchjinq to each other, and easily make a "felt" without weaving or twisting, d Wool is classed in two orders?long - Btaple and short staple. The long staple wool is less barbed and the * fibers are smoother and longer, and are straightened by a "comb," and " hence are called "combing" wools. The short staple wools are called"cardirifr" urni-ilo Vioi?ftttQA t.VlBV fiftTlTlot be I- ?-"& "WW? -- J straightened by combing, but are - treated by "cards," which are some t thing like curry combs. Before a sheep has its wool clipped g from its back it is well washed, and as n much dirt as possible is taken from . the wool. This is done by dipping the i. sheep in water, either of a running i. stream or in a large box in which the y men stand waist deep. The sheep is ' plunged ander the water, and the wool is squeezed, pressed and rubbed, and then the washed sheep is kept in a clean place until the wool^js dry. y Sheep shearing is done in the barn or in a shed set apart for that purpose, d and the shearers are so expert that, - with their springed sheep shears, they clip the wool so that it comes off in " one mass, like cotton batting. '0 The sheep is laid on a low table or b on the floor, and the shearer, begind ning at the breast, clips one Bide up - to the backbone, and then turning the - eheep on itc other side shears that fide. S Tbe fleece is collected and baled for u market. "Palled" wool is wool taken * from pelts which are first treated with n SHEADING 8 lime to loosen the wool, This wool i6 t not so good as fleece sheared from the living sheep. ^ The bales of wool are sent to the woolen mills and are opened in the 1 "sorting room." Each fleece is spread 2 on a table before the "sorter," who quickly decides its quality and grade, and lays it in its proper basket. The dirty, dusty wool?for, no matter how thoroughly the sheep is scrubbed, its wool is not clean?is placed in a t duster, which is a box in which 1 pronged slats revolve, picking up and r dusting the wool and shaking the dirt > from it. . [ The wool is next scoured in hot (. | water and strong soap to remove the I grease in the wool, and after the ' "yolk" or "saint" has been dissolved j the soap is washed out in clean water. ^ The machine which does this delivers } the wool between rollers which squeeze r out the water. Then the wool is dried, I unless it is to be taken at once to the dye room. For drying the wool is first put into | a centrifugal machine, which, revolvr ing at a high speed, throws the excess I of moisture from the fleece. The drying is completed by spreading the r wool over frames of wire net in the | draught of a warm-air blast, or else t spreading the wqol on the slats of a traveling carrier which moves slowly t over steam pipes. } Wool is colored by boiling it in the } dye stuff for several hours. The dyeinnr Trt/im ia fnII nf arp(it, cats from 3 - ? *- w- o" ~? which steam and queer-smelling vat pore constantly rise. The men who work1 in this room do so at a great sacrifice to personal appearance, for their hands and arms are stained with the dyes and their beards and hair do not escape the coloring matter. 0 If the wool is to be dyed black it is j first treated for two hours to a bath of . vitriol, potash and red tartar. After a r Sr l V. 1 1 'Splffir SORTING WOOL. D 9 this preliminary bath the wool is e rinsed off in clear water and dried in the 8 air and it is then ready for the black 3 dye, which is made of logwood and 16 fustic. The chips of these woods are packed 1 in bags and boiled in water for boiqo time. The mixture is allowed to Coot before the wool is plunged in and then the steam is turned on again, and the wool ie kept in the boiling dye until 'iorion $(LtC V(ooi\ ii\( ill m M III ,.?| I I ' XHBEE TEXTILE FIBEBS. , <_ the proper depth of black has been afc tained. The dyer, by squeezing a sample and holding it to the light, tells when the color is just right. Then the dye liquor is run off and clear water is sent through the wool until it is well rinsed. The wool is next sent back to the centrifugal dryer and alterward thoroughly dried bv hot air or steam heat. Wools are mixed because, to secure a desired quality of cloth, it is necessary to combine different "staples." American wools are mixed with foreign wools, and with cotton and silk and shoddy, and this mixing requires great ?kiH and a thorough knowledge of the business! Wools of different colors are blended tb make a mixed color, and browns, grays and other plain colors are secured by blending together wools of different dyes. Blending and mixing are two distinct operations,.for blending is done after the wool is dyed to secure plain colors, and mixing may be done before t^e T^jol is washed In "blending the wool6 are spread in layers on the floor, or "bedded," as it is called. The blender first experiments by taking certain proportions of the different colors and making an intimate combination by carding the wools with a hard carder. He weighs out each color and add6 or takes away until he has the proper blend. Then, knowing the proper propor THS SHEEP. tions, he weighs oat the wool in quan tities and it is bedded on the floor, each layer of one color. While the wool is on the blending floor it is sprayed with oil, for, as the natural greases were removed in washing the wool, they must be restored else the fibers will be wiry and harsh and be apt to break. Lard or olive oil is used for oiling the wool, and then the real blending o Vvtt " ' TKo waa! IQ ID UUJUV WJ l/UQ AUV n WWA *w taken from the edge of the beds and fed into the machine, which is a combination of drums and smaller cylinders, thickly studded with pins which open the wool, pull it apart and thus mix all the colors together. A blast of air which continually plays upon the wool in the teaser aids the interworking spikes and pins to open the wool, and it is finally deliv? ered in soft fleecy ciouds to the storage bin ready to be spun into yarn. Washing and beating the wool removes the dirt and dust, bat does not take out the burrs and other prickly seeds which are picked up by the sheep in its pasture. These must be removed either mechanically or chemically. In the latter case the wool is treated to certain acids which burn out the vegetable matter, but do not touch the animal fiber. For removing tne burrs and seeds mechanically the wool ia fed infn a mfto.hinfi which sr>read8 it out in thin sheets. This is doue by a drum, studded with metal points, which spreads the wool apart so that the blades of ibe "knocker-off" can beat apon every pm t of the 6heet and break the burrs into pieces that are shaken down into the dust box beneath the machine. . Wool loses a great deal of its weight in theprocesses to which it is subjected in preparing it for the spinning mill. One-third of its weight is lost when it is washed on the sheep's back, and another third is lost in the scouring process. Some wools lose so much weight that less than twenty-five per cent, of the original weight remains when the wool is fed into the last storage bin. In a modern mill the washing, scouring and rinsing, which follow the opening of the bale of wool in the sorting-room, are all done in one machine, which takes in the wool on a traveling carrier and delivers it cleai: and nearly'dry at the other end. But the sorting, clyeing, mixing ana blending must be done by hand, for in those lour stages manual skill and individual judgment are necessary to secure satisfactory results. Greeu Whiskers. Every conceivable kind of merchan-. dise is vended on the streets of New York, but it is only lately that the street fakir has taken to vending beautiful pea green whiskers, which apparently have a ready sale. Exactly what the 6taid stream cf business men that passes along Park row want of green whiskers would be difficult to say, but the men who sell them state that business is brisk.?New York ! Journal. J ;; VS.* I HOT-WATER HEAT15G. The Ideal System of Warming Reel* dences In Town and Country. Hot-water heating for dwellings has some prominent advantages that have done much to establish it firmly in favor. It is the safest, for one thing, and it provides the most equable temperature, as it can be carried a long distance horizontally. It is very easily regulated, and the matter of attendance is reduced to a minimum, which is no small consideration. There ifl UO cirnnlafinn nf /Ino*. mVjin'K io tTio inevitable concomitant of hot-air heating. To get the very beat results a hot-water plant should be installed in a new honse, planned with this in view. Hot-water heating is estimated to require one-fourth more radiating surface than steam, and of necessity there must be more and larger radiators ; these can be placed where they will not. be obtrusive. They can b6 adjusted beneath the windows and encased, and arrangements can be made for the passage of a current of fresh air over the radiators, thuB contributing admirable toward the ventilators of the house. The very late* application of hot water to heating is in combination with hot air, and in many ways this is the most perfect system of all. Both sources of heat are in the same furnace, which need be no larger than if either system was used by itself. The furnace is like the ordinary iisseS f?!^ VJfyf PERSPECTIVE VIEW. hot-air furnace, except that a hotwater drum occupies the central part of the dome. Those rooms that oan easily be reached by a direot current of hot air, are heated by registers, while those further away from the furnace are equipped with radiators. this" system is .particularly well adapted for large and rambling country houses, which, from the very nature of their conotvnn+i/vn dan noMT Via Hinrnnwlllr WMUVViVM) MV,V* -w-w-rj J k heated by hot air alcne. In so far as the consumption of fuel is concerned, the combination system is as economical as any other; perhaps, indeed, a greater amount of heat can be obtained from a fire of the same size. "With proper care on the part of architects in arranging inlet dncts for fresh air to accelerate the draught, any desirable degree of ventilation may be secured. Such arrangements should, however, be studied in advance, from principal elements in the design of a building instead of being wholly subordinated (as is commonly the custom) to less important architectural features. The design presented with this is arranged for the use of the combination system (hot air and hot water). A brief description we make as follows: General Dimensions: Width, through library and dining-room, 31 ft. 10 ins.: depth, Including veranda, 52 ft. 10 ins. Heights of Stories: Cellar, 7 ft.; first story, 10 ft.; second story, 9 ft. Exterior Materials: Foundation, brick; first story, clapboards; second story and gables, shingles, roof, slate. Interior Finish: Hard white plaster ; cellar ceiling plastered one heavy coat. Soft wood flooring throughout. Trim in hall and bedroom, oak; in library and dining-room, cherry; elsewhere, softwood. Main staircase, oak. Picture molding in principal rooms and hall of first story. Panel backs under windows in parlors, library and dining-room, bath-room and kitchen wainscoted. Front entrance doors, oak. Interior woodwork finished with hard oil; soft wood stained to suit owner. Colors: All clapboards and sashes, buff. Trim, including water-table, corner boards casings, bands, rain conductors, also front and rear outci/1o onrl on+cii1? KlinrfR. TtlSP-fln yellow. Veranda ceiling and floor, oiled. Brick-work, dark red. Veranda columns, all moldings and balusters, bufl. Pedestals of columns and top and bottom rail of balusters, Tuscan yellow. Wall shingles dipped in and brush-coated with sienna stain. Accommodations: The principal jE^f I kitchen | pir 1 ! fl?] Din i Kd ry^ j |4'X15* 14'X J S' y_p JU ?J n,. j - *'* > r Rtt"'or J-rfl 14>X I 5' J Iclo-Vestf t_=J Ver&nda. *7'wide. FIR1;! FLOOR. rooms and tbeir sizes, closets, etc., are shown by the floor plans. Cellar under the whole house, with inside and outside entrances and concrete floor. Laundry under kitchen. Furnace cellar under library and diningroom. Vegetable celiar under parlor and hall, separated by brick partition walls. Attic floored but unfinished; space for three rooms and storage. Sliding doors connect parlor, library and dining-rooin. Open fireplaces in parlor, library, diuiug-room and two bedrpoms. Hat and coat closet oil" vestibule. 9 ? 3 Three thousand four hundred and fifty dollars is the actual cost to build HBfl this house, cot including heating ap- j^HH paratus, and a fair estimate for a system of hot-water heating giving in-H^H direct radiation downstairs and direct I H K BedR. j ? ^ Bed R. HH I 4i-'-Xl5' ! t4'X t 5* B^8 f* ? ... | , r| , | fl fl . ; I '7 p ."^Rd? SECOND FLOOR. radiation in the second story would be fljfl about $450. Radiators should be placed as near the windows as pos- .' ' eible in parlor, dining-room, library and hall down stairs, and in the three larger bedrooms and bathroom in the ^^9 second story. The estimate is based on New York prices for materials and flH labor. In many sections of the conn- J^H| try the cost should be leas. BBB , Cop yrlght 1896. 9^H I ffl| HIGHEST OF BUGS. *1 . KM Venezuela Has One That Can Easily flMfl Knock Down a Man. Venezuela is a little Bepnblic, but she has one thing that is 'the biggest of its kind on earth. It is a bug?the largest ineect in all the world. The ' creature is known as the "elephant fl I beetle," and when fall grown it weighs nearly half a pound. To be struck in^ the face by suoh a bug, flying at fall speed, would m$ke a man feel as if a mule had licked him. ! I This beetle, like others 'of its kind,' B^Bj both small and large, is clad in a com* ?!? ? "ii* armnr T'fcio a*mn? lfl tg oum vi U4aiaw4( - ? made of a material for more indeatruo-: tible than steel?namely, Chitine. | Chi tine cannot be destroyed except by ( H H certain mineral acids; in other words, only the artifices of chemistry avail1 against it. Thus the shells of beetles that died 10,000,000 years ago have' been preserved perfectly in the roeks, flH so that we know to-day juat what these insects of antiquity looked like. ( LABGEST BUG ON EABTH?O.VE-HALF SIZE. In Europe giant beetles have a con- fl H siderable market value, commanding HB prices in proportion to their size. In London there are regular auctions of insects, and a single butterfly has been known to fetoh as much as $800. A; specimen of the rare and very large' Goliath beetle is worth S60. This is' the largest beetle of the Old World, and it first became known through missionaries in the Congo Basin. Though no other iuseot in existence, rnmnarpB in bulk with the beetle from Venezuela, there are other bugs that exceed it in dimensions. For exam-! pie, there is the Atlas silk moth, which) has a wing-spread of nearly a foot. It. spins a oocoon, the silk of which is' better and stronger than that of the ordinary silk wor.m; but, unfortunately, it counot be reeled. The Department of Agriculture tried for years ^HH| to discover a way of reeling it, but' without success. Moths of this species' often alight on ships in the Indian Ocean. There is a butterfly of the Malay Peninsula and Malayan Archipelago which has a spread of ten inches. In India and tropical Africa are found giant forms of those remarkable in* sectsknownas "walkingsticks,"which look like twigs of trees. Some of them measure eighteen inohes ASHI in length. They are related to grasshoppers and katydids. In tropical America are found certain huge species of bugs that are olosely related to the familiar electric-light bugs of this country. Like the latter, which have been popularly known only since the introduction of the eletstrio light, they fly at night, living during | the day at the bottom of ponds. Japan's Ancieut Banking House. ! Commercial houses which have ex-HH^9 ! isted for over luu years are oy noanap j means common in Europe, and quite^^^^H rare in this country. It is curious to^^HjH , note that commercial houses a l dred or more years old are quite fre-^^^H| > quent in China and Japan, where | great many firms have for centuries^^^^H I been handed down from father to sonJ^^^^H ! and remained in tiie family. The old-^^^^^H j est existing business i<; probably j Japanese banking houee, at KobejH^BH | which has for more than 350.years^^^^H ? .1 : family, the style of the tirm not haV'^^B^^H ing changed once in this long period^^^^H What is Indicated by the Tongue. A white tongue indicates febrile turbance, says tho Medical Age; brown, moist tongue, indigestion; brow, dry tongue, depression, bloocXHflH poisoning, typhoid fever; a red, moitj^H^^Hu tongue, inflammatory i'ever; a rec^^^^^H glazed tongue, general fever, loss digestion; a tremulous, moist an^H^^H flabby tongue, feebleness, nervou^^^^^H ^ Remarkable Case of Manslaughter. Nune Mack, a sculptress in Pari^H^Hfl had a boy for a model. She put I plaster on him to make a mold, | he took cold and died. She j charged with manslaughter, out, I ins; acquitted, his lather is suing for ?4000 damages.