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IN the Circuit Court for Carroll Co. sitting in Equity. NO. 24GG Ellen J. Mnssamore, plaintiff, vs. Henry L. Massamore, defendant. The object of this bill is to procure a di vorce a vinculo matrimonii of the plaintiff from the defendant. The bill alleges that the complainant and defendant were married on the twenty-second day of October, in the year eighteen hundred and seventy-three, at Uniontown, Carroll county, Maryland; that said marriage cere mony was performed by Elder W. Palmer (a regularly ordained minister of the Church of God); That the plaintiff has resided at the city of Westminster, in Carroll county aforesaid, nearly all her life, and continuously for the past fifteen years; That by said marriage she has one son, aged thirteen years; That the defendant has not, since his mar riage as aforesaid, contributed to the support of the plaintiff or their said son, but has left the burden of making a livelihood for herself and their said son solely to the plaintiff; That about eight years ago the defendant deserted the plaintiff and went beyond the limits of the state of Maryland, and during said period he has not returned to the plain tiff, nor has he contributed one cent toward the support of the plaintiff or that of their son; That the defendant was addicted to the ex cessive use of stimulants, and when under the influence of liquor was cruelly unkind to and abusive of the plaintiff; That the defendant without any just cause or reason, abandoned and deserted the plain tiff, and that such abandonment has continued uninterruptedly for about eight years, and is deliberate and final, and the separation of the plaintiff and defendant is beyond any reason able expectation of reconciliation. It is thereupon ordered by the Court this 14th day of July, in the year eighteen hun dred and eighty-seven, that the plaintiff cause copy of this order, together with the object End substance of the bill, to be inserted in Lmc newspaper published in Carroll county, ■ the State of Maryland, once a week for successive weeks, before the loth day of A. I). 1887, giving notice U> the in said bill, and warning him to in this Court, in person or by solicitor, before the loth day of November, A. D. show cause, if any he has. why a de- not pass as prayed. WM. N. MARTIN, Clerk. Copy,—Test: r,i Wm. N. Martin, Clerk. ■OKS’ SALE L • OF Luable farm, ■own, Carroll County, Md. Mic power contained in the last Kent of David Foutz, deceased, Le of an order of the Orphans’ Hi county, passed on the 11th n, the undersigned, executors, Bblic sale, on the premises, Hbe-half mile west of Union short distance of the tin* la.'t named place ihc’laiui.' ut’ :iml oi h° r - s * .\n;rsr. LU. I hat valuable farm BBB ; - i'LUiiKS with a two J HHIB 11 rank 4 |P|k, BSli- |S^B BisLctiou g£j )t BxnmtaHt Trustees* sale OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE In Freedom district, Carroll co., Md. By virtue of a decree of the Circuit Court for Carroll county sitting as a Court of Equity, passed in cause No. 2480, wherein William F. Baseman and others are complainants and Emily J. Baseman and others are defendants, the undersigned, appointed trustees by said decree, will offer at public sale on the prem ises of the late William B. Baseman, situ ated on the public road leading from Lewis ville to the Liberty Turnpike, and about one mile from Haight P. 0., on Saturday, the Glh day of August , A. I)., ISS7 f At 1 o’clock, p. m., that valuable farm of which William B. Beasman died, seized and possessed, containing 238 ACRES OF LAND MORE OR LESS, of which about 75 acres are in timber. The improvements consist of a large . two anda-half story stone dwel ling house, two-story kitchen. recently repaired at consider able expense, large bank barn, carriage house with corn cribs, poultry and spring houses, together with all other necessary outbuildings in good repair. There is a never failing spring of excellent water near the dwelling and a well of water, in the barn yard. The land is in a high state of cultivation, having been recently heavily limed, and the whole enclosed with good fencing. There is no better or more productive farm in Freedom district. It is eligibly located with respect to churches, mills, postoffice. &c., and in one of the very best neighborhoods in the county. There are two large orchards of apple and other fruit trees in thriving condition. The farm will be offered in one tract, or may be sold in two parcels, containing 147 acres and til respectively, more or less. Persons de sirous of viewing the premises can call upon Mrs. Emily J. Baseman, residing thereon, and for further information call upon or address D. L. Farra r , or McKellip k Clubaugh, attor neys ut law, Westminster, Md. Terms of Sale. —One-third part of the pur chase money to be paid in cash on the day of sale or upon the ratification thereof by the Court; balance in one and two years from the day of sale; the credit payments to be secured to the satisfaction of the trustees, and bearing interest from the day of sale. EMILY J. BASEMAN, Ufrustccs * DEWEES L. FARRAR, / lrnatcca * McKellip & Clabaugh, Solicitors. julyO ta R. C. Matthews, Auct’r. QRDER OP PUBLICATION. NO. 2524 EQUITY. In the Circuit Court for Carroll county sitting as a Court of Equity. Annie E. Jones, plaintiff, vs. Adam H. Jones, I defendant. The object of this bill is to procure a dl-j) vorce a vinculo matrimonii of the plaintiff,/ Annie E. Jones, from the defendant, A dan# H. Jones. / The bill alleges that the plaintiff aud Jhe defendant were married on the Bth dayl of August, A. D., 1878; that though the conduct i of the plaintiff towards the defendant /has always been kind, affectionate and aboye re- ; proach, the said defendant has, without any just cause or reason, abandoned and deserted her, and has declared his intention/to live with her no longer, and that such abandon ment has continued uninterrupted/y for at least three years, and is deliberate /and final, and the separation of the parties any reasonable expectation of reconciliation ; that i by said marriage the plaintiff htuy four child ren ; that the said defendant is €|ot possessed of any estate to the plaintiff 'jd knowledge ; that the said defendant d®es not reside within the State of Maryland, and that his place of residence is unknown to the plaintiff; and the plaintiff prays to hm divorced a vin cido matrimonii from the Jiefendant. It is thereupon ordered Iby the Circuit Court for Carroll county sitting/as a Court of equity this 30th day of Jane,iBL D., 1887, that the *ibvintiffi , >> / >iu\rsmg'v4?opy of this order to be inserted in some newspaper published in Car roll county aforesaid, once in each of four successive weeks before the first day of August, next; give notice to the said absent defendant of the object and substance of this bill, warning him to appear in this court in person or by solicitor, on or before the 7th day of November, next, to show cause if any he has, why a decree ought not to pass as prayed, VM N MARTIN, Clerk. Trufl copy,—Test: WM. N. Martin, Cleric. 32 INSOLVENTS, In the Circuit Court for Carroll County. In the matter of the petition of John P. Tyr rell for the benefit of the insolvent laws of the State of Maryland. Ordered this Ist day of July, A. D., 1887, that Monday, the I4th day of November, next, be and the same is hereby fixed for John P. Tyrrell, petitioner for the benefit of the insolvent laws of this stalo, in the above en titled cause, to appear in the said Court and tanswer such interrogatories or allegations as this creditors, endorsers or sureties may pro- Kosc or allege against him; and that the peti- Koner, or James A. C. Bond, his permanent Kustee, shall give notice thereof to the cred- Ars, endorsers aud sureties of said insolvent by causing a copy of this order to in some newspaper published in county, fur five successive weeks, he- lsth day of August, next. WM. N. M4.WTIN, Clerk, at the request of Jitmes A, C. permanent trustee. copy, —Test: 6t Wm. N. Martin, Clerk. NOTICE. idersigned, Jixawiners, appointed by j la commission to them issaecj by the , Commissioners pf Carroll county, to j ■ open a public road in said county, Kat a point in the Gorsuch Road near 1 Bers lime kiln, through the land of j ' Blister to the line between the ( ■ and Dayid •Zimmerman: then on . line; then on or near the line be- A. Leister f)4 said David Zira- ‘ on or hoar the Ijp.c between and Nathaniel Leister; then jHihc line between tbc lapds of ; Robertson and Kulhapjel j in the road leading from >t may concern are hereby meet at Luuvcr Postotfice. ll Uh day of A mjust, JSS7, to execute the trust re aforesaid commission. m'CHMAN, w. lamottl, HAHN. . U, p HAWK MAN, D. h. S. BAUGHMAN, H|^BpiSTS. Md. places: BHBHB ei. i'd d..v ■'d.ii;'‘ y ;t! ei Frs- lay J;; - a - :t “ n t ' i, “ * ;i ' l ‘ K ; = i - ; ‘' > ■ ■ ' be found in lb.- sop 23-tf |Si|SifeP^B; ASS BRICK " 5 b’irst Glass w anted. I Vr d oXa I. . "1 ! II n ■ Court i/./I.K. |S^|fm|^!lS^K n^''r ' M<l - H office MD., SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1887 Select f odru. J EVERY DAY. Haiti' Tyng firisirnld, I nth• MVs/,v/? /’j^B The dawn grows red in the ent. With pomp and purple of gold. And curtains of trailing mist, A ■ Are in gauzy films nprolled. f The sun like a painter comes, To illumine the hack ground ’ And ho Wields his magic ,, , . Though few know it. every The hird> awake when the And the bobolink and Rehearse for & feast. The robin, the linct, Arc songsters gladsome The music they make is every The brook begins with morning the bee its soft In the wet and dewy V The sound of all , ; v' Is heard in the The song is of peace earth sings it There arc children And they fair ho^^^^^^Pgbt, And voices from the The children The throb of cet mea>u^^^^^Vbiy- There arc men who And world Half the do. They make the sorr^Tsmile, They make 111 0 wickeo^pray. They make tJ® brave teppure, And they dJ It—evenway. sAtAtorg. rPI&EIf. a * Prom lifgravia. *1 half the story from Moroni himself— Cesarit/ Bartolommeo dei Moroni, as be writes jniaiself now and then—the “Moroni” of London, Paris and New York. \]k is a great man now. Kings, princes amV potentates; celebrities, native and for eign; actors, cabinet ministers and pretty w/bmen arc getting themselves photographed bh his smart studios every day of the week; /but when I first know him he was but a journeyman at an Islington artist’s, and spelled bis name with a “y,” as did the Irish Kings, bis forefathers, before him. We met at Daisycliffe, where we had the hotel to ourselves. It was long past the end of the season. We drifted into com panionship, dined together in the coffee room each evening, and smoked our morn ing pipes pacing the spray-swept, shingle strewn parade in dual solitude. “I like the place,” Moroni said. “I’ve reason to. My first professional success was achieved here, in that very spot,” and he stopped to contemplate a piece of waste ground which a board indicated as the site of “Daisycliffe Mansions West.” “There was a row of fishermen’s huts hereabouts,” he went on. “The hotel was built, but shut up, bankrupt. Five shops in the High street. Two trains to London a day—fare one pound nineteen third class.” ‘“But what ever brought you here?” I interrupted. “Vanity, sir; vanity, and impatience of servitude, and a desire to be my own master. I had a good situation in London, but I did not pull well with the principal, and wanted to start for myself. Also, I was abominably taken in by my wife’s brother —a plausible, lovable, mendacious young seaippr H e h a( f a business down here, however he came by it, and he actually persuaded me to take it off his bands in j lieu of some money which should have come to Teresita on her father’s death. It was too far for previous inquiries. He showed qa his accounts —pure works of fiction, every fine of them —and photo graphs of the place almost as delusive—oqc of the Parade crowded with well-dressed promenaders—that was taken on a Sunday —the whole population came home from church this way, one of the big hotel— carriages standing outside, waiters on the steps, company at the windows —that was done the day the directors held their wind ing-up meeting there—the only visitors it had seen for six months; views of Belmin ster, the cathedral town, with Ite great Northern race meetings—only distant half an hour by train, that never stopped at Daisycliffe in those days—Cliffe Castle, the seat of Lord Sandbar, adjoining the town. Well, you shall hear what that came to fireseutly. We looked at the pictures, b> ieved in his descriptions, closed the bargain and walked into Daisycliffe one lovely evening in early autumn, Teresita caipyipg the bambino, and I wheeling all our earthly goods on a truck from the station. “The studio looked promising. It was a cottage enlarged with plenty of plate glass and black aud gold decoration about ft. It looked OR the Parade, and the Pa rade looked—much us it does now. I went up and down prospecting. A knot of fish ermen lounging round a capstan at one end; at the other a young lady immersed in study. The hotel was shuttered up. All the weedy little row of lodging houses had blinds down apd dingy hills stuck in every jyjpijoif, j went up to the town. A few out-at-elbows-looklng tradesfolk lounging idly at their doors eyed me as I passed with unfriendly curiosity—all except the land lord of the “Blue Lion” public, who was friendly and invited me to come up that evening to a social gathering in the tap room. I pocketed my pride and a dozen plegant gold-lettered cards of terms for dis tribution, and wept. “Such a low-spirited, hopeless lot 1 met there! “Ail the talk was of bad debts, long credit, shortness and poorness of tbe season's business, and tfce iniquities of the railway company, which seemed to have laid itself out to ruin the unlucky little town. “I mentioned Castle CHffe byway of turning the conversation, and asked if Lord Sandbar did nothing for the place. ‘Sand bar? Oh, Lord! Do anything for the place? Sandbar? You may well say Sandbar. Ah, just so. Sandbar —Sand- bar!’ “Not very full of explanatory, but as pregnant with dark meaning as if it had been a chorus of yiftuojja villagers in an opera expounding t)je iniquities of the wicked baron. Not that Lord Sandbar was wicked. On the contrary, he was the result of careful bringing up by his mother and his atpp-fbther—a popular preacher. His sins, if any, were purely of omission. He keep house like a nobleman and make the castle custom worth having ? Not he. Visitors from London and shooting parties ? Sunday school teachers and missionaries out for a holiday—that was about his sort. Hoes he bunt? No. Yacht? No. En tertain or do anything like a gentleman ? Not a bit of it. What docs he do for Daisycliffe? Can't say, unless it’s to shut up all the footpaths round the castle and stop the Forrester’s fete being held in the park. Is he married? No, nor likely. Won't let a come near him, married or single. It’s as much ns the housekeep er’s place is worth to let in hi- jxM-k'-t. ami w.-uM \-l l"°k at h'T if h" caught <>uc p ar k—and >' ui for half an was my lir.-t experience of if seem to see where the profes- conies in,” I said. I can tell you. I took five in the first week, one and sinxpece He second. The third we were left to The fishermen at last gave up B? joke of hustling one another in with B request to me to ‘Take him handsome his young woman.’ Even the small Boy population got tired of us, and left our window unsmeared by inquisitive noses. Then I tramped over to Beuuinster to see if I could raise enough on some of our pos sessions to take us back to die—if starve we must —in London. “I found Belminster a ferment with the stir and excitement of the race week. No murmur of it had drifted over to us. The flag waved over Cliffe Castle, showing that some of the family were there; also, the short cut across the park was hoarded up, and I had an extra mile and a half of road to tramp. That was all the Karl’s coming had done for Daisycliffe. “I reached home dog-tired and utterly cast down- Teresita met me with a smile and a good dinner. She was never dis heartened in the worst of times. She could make merry over a crust, sing and cuddle the baby, and invent excuses for the young swindler Tonino iust as if wo hadn’t changed our last gold coin. I listened gloomily to her and answered sharply, till a sudden, unfamiliar sound silenced us both. The studio bell 1 “We were in the little outer office in a minute. A figure stood there with its back to us contemplating the photographs in a case on the wall—a small figure, a dingy figure, a figure in a bell-crowned felt hat perched on a shock head of hair, sur mounting a suit of ragged velveteen termi nating in a lace-up man’s boot and a trod den-out highlow—a boy, and a boy with ‘tramp’ and ‘gypsy’ written on every inch of him. “I strode in upon him wrath fully; ‘what are you doing here?’ I demanded. “Nowise abashed, he turned and faced me. ‘Did you make all these?’ he asked. ‘Will you please make a picture of me?’ “I stood fairly transfixed at the audacity of the imp. He was a slight slip of a lad —perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, with a small childish face as brown as a nut. He had clawed his hat off as he spoke, and bis hair fell over his eyes in elflocks black as a coal. A red handkerchief was twisted round his slender brown throat, and he had stuck a sprig of honeysuckle in his buttonhole. He carried a blackthorn stick, and I noticed he leaned upon it and walked with a limp. I took all this in— instinctively, I suppose, for of my first look at him I remember nothing but his eyes. “They were cast down when lie first ad dressed me, but as he spoke, up swept the heavy black lashes and out flashed from under the shadow of his elflocks two great dazzling gray stars. A positive shock seemed to pass through me in that second —an odd, unaccountable thrill such as no boy’s eyes ever caused in this world before. Perhaps it was only the startling incon gruity of those clear light glancing irises with the coal-black brows and swarthy skin. I couldn’t resist provoking another look. “ ‘Come, get out of this. What made you think of coming here ?’ The long lashes quivered, but never lifted. He stood fumbling in the bosom of his dingy waist coat and dragged out a crumpled piece of paper folded and refolded into a wad. Then came the look I had been waiting for —the sudden flash of gray lightning from under the cloudy brows. “ ‘A begging letter, eh ?’ But I took it and unfolded it very slowly, watching the boy’s face as I did so. It was a clever face, square-chinned, with a resolute, delicate mouth and impudent upturned noise. When he saw that I meant to read the letter a grin of delight showed all his gleam ing teeth, and he nodded to himself, as if he considered hjs busjqcsa settled, lucre’s the letter. You pan see for yourself,” Moroni searched in his pocketbook and i found it. My Dear Jake : Although no friend, as you are aware, to tramps and pikeys such as yourself, yet I must say I always found you steady and well meaning, Jake, and certainly of use in the matter of Mr. Ulissetfs sick cow, which is why M a friend I would not wish you to hear unprepared that your poor mother, coming home from hopping, was knocked down by a farm cart, Jim Davis driving and not as sober as he might have been, and was taken for dead to the county hospital, where she now lies, as I saw with my own eyes last visitors’ day, kept as comfortable as if she were a lady, but almost out of her m|nd with fret ting after you, which is naturally very try ing to all about her. ‘I want Jake; just a sight of Jake,’ she goes on continual, and keeps your old red handkercher under her pillow and talks to it like a Christian. Now, Jake, I always liked you, and would never hear but that thefe are two sides tq a story, even when it is one’s own fat Michaelmas goose. There were other pikeys about besides yourself, Jake, and I don’t think you would go to harm your friends, so do, like a good boy, come back at once and give the poor soul some com fort if you was but to hear her. Your friepd i)S yoq behave, Louisa Bmssett. “I read this aloud to Tcrcsita, who came in with our boy in her arms. “‘Why don’t you go? At once! she cried. “The boy hung his head and faltered out a long explanation. Michael had brought him there—to Belminstcr. Michael was one of their tribe. They had a horse to sell, and nobody but he, .fake, could utafl age it. It was a poiqt of honor to stay. o ‘But they told me —that you could do my picture —as like as I could send it by one of our people,’ “ ‘How do you moan to pay for it?' “ ‘When the horse is sold —’ he began eagerly. “ ‘Thank you, my good boy, but I dont t work on credit.’ “ ‘Ah, the poor child!’ Tcresita broke in. ‘Think, Cesarino mio, it is for his mother. We are poor, dreadfully poor, but we can help him, and the Holy Mother above will not let us be the poorer.’ “If Teresita had set her heart upon it that was quite sufficient without the inter position of the saints. ‘Come this way,’ I said, not too cordially. But the lad stood staring stupidly and shame-facedly. ‘llon't you want It after all V’ “Then bo made a sudden dash at Teresita and kissed her hand, ‘You are a good, good woman I’ he cried with a choked voice, ‘and shall not be robbed by me. X will pay you. X swear by Heaven —-pre my muUoa dadas !' Then he followed me. “There were the usual stock properties about, among others a low rustic paling. I was studying bow to pose him when ho spied this, dragged it forward, and had kicked off his two unmatched mud-weight ed boots and had sprung astride of the top rail in an instant, bis slender brown fea| lightly twisted together, bis old to make. His spirits went up and his eyes danced; he began to whistle and sing snatches of songs and make grimaces at the baby, who gaped at him open-mouthed over Teresita’s shoulder. Yet he could be still. It was a marvel to me how, but there I had the quaint roguish smile and flashing up ward glance crystalized under my fingers at will. I became fascinated with my work and took negative after negative. The light was strong and clear, and I prom ised to print him a proof before he left. He would not trust to my sending it— wouldn’t tell me where to find him in Bel minster, or the name of the hospital where his mother was. Then while I was pre paring a plate he began to sing. I couldn’t understand a word of the song, but it made me feel like crying, till he gave a whistle and stamp, and, snapping his fingers, start ed off into a dance with a chorus that set Teresita clapping her hands and capering, and the baby jumping and crowing with ecstasy. Before he left he had confided to us the whole story of the missing Michael mas goose with such wonderful mimicry of speech and action that even now I can im agine I saw the whole proceeding. The pert gypsy wench, with a bundle of grass and leaves under her cloak instead of a baby, hovering round the blacksmith’s goose pen with a basket of small wares; the blacksmith’s facctiousness over the choice of a neckerchief and breastpin and clumsy attempts at gallantry; the excitement of the instant when his back was turned and with one artful grasp and twirl the fattest of the flock was seized and gasped his last, done up in the baby's red shawl. He acted it all—the muzzy, beery, amorous smith, the coquettish, wicked-eyed young gypsy, and the dying flap and flutter of the victim. How we laughed ! while I secretly deter mined to make sure that the watch was safe in my pocket and, the drops in Teresita’s ears before I showed our fascinating young friend off the premises. “It was dusk when he bade us good-bye and departed, the photograph tenderly wrapped in the red rag from his neck. “ ‘I will come again in dnl — irin—shfar divmis —in four days more, at this hour, and I will pay you.’ “ ‘lf he does not the Holy Mother will,’ said Teresita with conviction. “I am afraid I had not Teresita’s faith in cither one or the other, miserable sinner that I was. We closed for the night, and I was moodily clearing the studio of the litter of cracked nuts, muddy footmarks, and a stray brass button, when a knock at the door shook our house to its founda tions. “A man in the Sandbar livery was un steadily holding on to the door handle, He brought a note which ought to have reached me an hour before. Lord Sandbar would be happy to sec mo at the Castle to morrow. He wished for some instruction and assistance in photography, and also de sired to have some views of Cliffe and the Castle ruins. The terms offered were princely. How Teresita exulted! “I was at the Castle early next day. It is a splendid ivy-grown old pile, half in crumbling ruins, the other half dark and scowling with fortifications, turret and bat tlement, drawbridge and portcullis—the very home for the grim-visaged man-hating recluse that I, somehow, expected to find; or, if not, then a llyronie youth with a haughty mien and a Woe stamped on his passion furrowed brow. Lord Sandbar was neither. Only a great solemn awk ward lout, with broad shoulders and a ruddy countenance composed into a prigg ish sobriety. He was evidently ‘serious’ and began to exhort me affectionately like a little tract before I had finished unpack ing my traps. I didn’t mind. It was all jn the day’s work, but it looked as if it hadn’t agreed with the other visitor at the Castle —a stout, jovial little gentleman with a merry eye and a weatherbeaten counte nance, whom Lord Sandbar called Major Carberry. I found that he was an old friend of Lord Sandbar’s father, and had asked for a few days’ shooting at Cliffe, and Lord Sandbar, who had come down on business, had staid to entertain hin). "I think they must have had a bad time together. The Earl looked askance at the Major as a little dog does at a big one who may take him up and shake him any day; the Major eyed the Earl with curiosity not unmixed with disgust. ‘Good Lord! that that should be poor Ralph's son!’ I heard him growl in a consternated voice aside once. Both received mo and mv camera cordially as a sort of sale neutral subject. The Major was, as I knew by report, a distinguished amateur artist, and one whom it was worth my while to cultivate. The Earl was anxious to learn. ‘Going to make magic lantern slides for his Sunday school tea parties,' the Major explained. “We worked very harmoniously all day, and I began to got considerably interested jn my employer. He was so big, so strong so full of life and vigor, so incredibly sedate and goody. ‘l’m sure the Countess would say'—‘Mr. Oliphant, my stepfather, would not allow' —were phrases continually on his lips, and all his talk was of the doings of his own special little foterje, outside of which was no salvation. Ho had a great deal to tell about his ‘work’ in the slums, and the ragamuffin class generally; but it seemed to me to consist chiefly in prevent ing its objects being got at by other folks’ ‘missions' which didn't happen to match its shade of opinion. “However, by degrees he gave up preach ing when he found It was not expected from him. The Major relieved his mind by shooting all the morning and working with us in the afternoon, and we got along very harmoniously. Lord Sandbar used to listen with zest to some of the Major’s marvelous sporting anecdotes. Field sports might have been a passion with him if he had ever been allowed to indulge it. When Major Carberry's reminiscences took a social turn it was amusing to watob the good young nobleman’s face, pink with ap prehension of hearing something naughty, his efforts to suppress a shame-faced guffaw, and the extra primness of his demeanor for the next few minutes. “ ‘He's been bottled and corked up too long, that young man,' the Major confided to me. ‘His ideas arc fermenting in his head. There’ll be an explosion some of these days’, and he nodded ominously, per haps not ill content with having expedited the process. “On the fouftb day when I arrived at the Castle 1 saw directly that some disturb ance had already taken place, though not of the kind the Major anticipated. I found him packing his apparatus in a wrathful bustle, and relieving his mind with some very bad language, & fly from the Blue Eton drove up the avenue after me and waited at the door. ‘l’m going to Belmin sler. Yes, and I mean to stay there. I've told that milk sop there that if he won't spare a horse aud trap for his father's old friend—that, by Jove, I’ll put no further strain on his hospitality. It was a letter from his mamma that did it. I’m bad company for him, forsooth! Well, let my lady look out. He’s beginning to find the length of her apron string. He’ll cut it some day, and then—mark and the ried and discomposed by his "west’s de parture. I arrived at the explanation by degrees. It was Cup Bay at Belminster, and Lord Sanbar bad not only flatly re fused to go himself, but had also declined ‘on principle’ to allow his servants and horses to take the Major. lie had, no doubt, gained a moral victory; but it had left him ill-tempered and restless, very bit ter against the world and the things of it, and determined to go back to town by the evening train. “We had a very dull day together. I was treated to one or two sour little ser mons that ought by rights to have gone to benefit the Major, but he was out of range. When I got tired of that sort of thing, I produced, byway of diversion, all the proofs I had printed of ‘Pikcy,’ and per sisted in telling the story. The move was successful. Gypsies and the pikey race generally were a class outside Lord Sand bar’s previous experience, and he listened greedily. Had I tried in any way to ex ert an influence for good over this one ? I confess that it hadn’t occurred to me to do so. Had I not considered it an open ing—a manifest opening? The boy had feelings that might have been worked upon. Lord Sandbar evidently regretted not hav ing been there with a tract to try. He seemed curiously attracted by the photo graphs. He spread them out on the table before him, and sat studying them in silence for a long lime. I wondered if the spell of those gray eyes was on him too. “ ‘Would you like to see him ? He promised to come to-night.’ Lord Sand bar jumped at the notion. He would come home with me on his way to the Daisycliflc Station, and he went off to get his portman teau packed. “Teresita was at the door waving to me excitedly as we drove up. She hardly no ticed my companion. ‘He has come! Come in. See for yourself! Eccolo !’ “Sure enough, there were his boots on the mat, and there he was, several degrees raggcder than before, but with a new bright orange scarf knotted around his neck danc ing a fandango with the baby. “ ‘Sarishan to your kokero !’ he cried as we entered, with a grand flourish of the battered old hat into which he had stuck a fine bunch of red berries. ‘We’ve biken ed the gry—sold the horse, and Michael has given me my share ! Here it is—half ( for you.’ He restored the bambino to Teresita, and with his little white teeth i undid a knot in the corner of his necktie ■ and shook out a little pile of sovereigns | and silver into my hand. ‘ls that enough?’ i “Then he put his arms akimbo, tossed I back the clfloeks from his eyes, and stood looking at Lord Sandbar with the full, in- j nocent gaze of a young kitten on its good behavior. “‘I don’t want anything like this!' I exclaimed. ‘Here, take it back. Keep it for your mother.’ “ ‘l’ve enough—plenty. And I am go ing to her this very night. Prastee! Good-night!’ lie made for the door, but Lord Sandbar’s great figure barred it. “ ‘How are you going, my boy ? Shall I drive you back to Belminster ?’ “‘I don’t want to go back to Belmin ster,’ Pikey answered pettishly. ‘I can start from here just as well.’ “ ‘ Put where are you going ?’ No answer. “ ‘You will be always on the road Now listen to me, like a good boy.’ “Sandbar put his hand on the lad’s shoulder. It was twisted away impatiently. “ ‘What business is it of yours ?’ Pikey demanded, with a vicious little snap, like a squirrel at bay. He looked wonderfully handsome, to be sure. His great eyes shone half fierce, half frightened; his checks glowed through their tan, and all his small white teeth gleamed wickedly, ready to bite. “ ‘This is Lord Sandbar,’ I interposed; ‘a good friend to all poor boys like your ■ self. He wants to be kind to you if you will let him.’ “ ‘Oh, he does, does he,’ said Pikey. The queerest look passed over his face.. ‘Lord Sandbar,’ \\e murmured thoughtfully. He had got clear of the restraining hand, and walked away from us all to the win dow, where he stood in silence. “ ‘Can he have heard of me ?’ asked the Earl, with demure complacency. ‘lt would be deeply, deeply gratifying—’ “Pikey’s shoulders were shaking as if with some suppressed emotion. Teresita stole up to him and laid her arqj across them syropathiaingly. He looked up, and if the young villain wasn’t exploding with laughter over some private joke; but Sand bar noticed nothing. ‘Let me talk to him,’ he said, and I called Teresita away and left them together. “When we returned in a few minutes the Earl was holding the boy’s arm with an air of possession. “I am going to take Jake to his mother, t he announced. ‘He will travel with me to London to-night.’ “‘But you are a boro Gorgio and I am a poor Romani chal —,’ Pikey began to protest; but Sandbar silenced him and bade him say good*byo to us all. “Some unaccountable curiosity made me take the short cut to the station to sec them off. “They had established themselves in a first class carriage. Pikey, his rags con cealed under a sealskin-trimmed eoat which I recognized, was nestling down under the groat bearskin traveling rug, his eyes alight and his cheeks poppy red with excitement. Lord Sandbar sat opposite, gazing—not to say gaping—down on his protege. He looked bewildered, strangely stirred by some novel emotion, absorbing, delicious, incomprehensible. He could spare neither word nor look for me. “ ‘Kushto Bakl’ cried Pikey, waving his pretty brown hand. ‘“The imp’s been putting the comethcr oyer him, too,' I said to myself, and then the train moved off and I lost sight of my Pikey forever.” Moroni came to full stop. “Go on,” I said impatiently. “Which do you want to hear? How I went on and made my fortune, or the end of Lord Sandbar’s adventure?” “I know the end of your story. I think I'd rather go on with Lord Sandbar’s. Did he go to the dickens?" “That is a mattep of opinion, I never heard more qf bint till the following Spring. I was trying to find my way from one out of-the-way suburb to another beyond the range of trams and omnibuses, when I came upon a dismal, forgotten region of old houses, condemned to demolition, sgrpound ed by hoardings. Turning the corner, face tq fape I met ‘my Pikey,’ “Not in the flesh, but foil length on a poster —the very imp, just as I had taken him astride of the fence in my Daisycliffe studio, There was no mistake. The poster was tinted to represent a monster photograph, and was a copy, I could swear, of my own. At the top, to dispel all doubt, was the name in huge capitals ‘Pikey,’ and below the name of a theatre, ‘The Diversity,’ amid a date half peeled off, but evidently that of the past year. “I was so utterly perdKed that I left returning to , ' 1 < ' "T VOL. XXII.-NO. 41 tenberg,’ so, without knowing precisely what I meant to do, I made my way forth with to the box office. “A very civil young gentleman listened to my inquiries with interest, but could af ford me no assistance. “‘Pikey? 1 seem to remember some thin" about that too. It was before my time, though. Ah, ihere’s a gentleman who might be able to help you. Mr. Mountjoy!’ “ ‘Hullo! Why, it’s Moroni!’ An old comrade of mine whose name had become known as a writer,of successful melodrama came up and greeted me. ‘Can I do any thing for you ?’ “ ‘Want to know about “Pikey,” eh ? Yes, it’s a piece of mine. Why was it never brought out? Well, that’s a queer story. That was Nancy Bell’s portrait you saw, of course. You might have seen it all over the place last Autumn. The little wretch put us all in a hole, but she has apologized very prettily since, and I can’t afford to quarrel with a Countess.’ “‘A Countess ? Pikey ? Nancy Bell ? Put it a little plainer, that’s a good fellow. That Gypsy urchin sat to me at Daisycliffe last Autumn —that I’ll swear. Now, how did be get on that poster ? That’s all 1 want to find out.” “ ‘Daisycliffe! Why, of course that’s where it all happened. Nancy sent me the photograph from there—said she’d been taken in character by the load artist. Never guessed it was you, though. She went there to be quiet and work at her part “Jake.” I’d written it expressly for her, you know. Lord Sandbar’s place is close to Daisycliffe, I believe. There, you have it. On the day of first rehearsal, in stead of Miss Nancy Bell came wedding cards from the Earl and Countess of Sand bar.” “I felt the place go round with me; Mountjoy talked on. “ ‘llis people were furious, of course. They thought they had made him so un commonly safe. In fact. I had met Sand bar once or twice myself before, and know ing what I did of him, it’s a mystery to me to this day how that audacious little hussey ever got at him.’ “I could have told; but I held my peace.” The “Tree Puzzle.” The “tree puzzle” that follows is one of the most ingenious trifles of the kind now current: 1. What’s the social tree, 1 2. Ami the dancing tree, | a. And the tree that is nearest the sea? 4. The dandicst tree, 5. And the kissable tree, . fi. And the tree where ships may be? 7. What’s the tell-tale tree, 8. And the traitor’s tree, 9. And the tree that's the wannest clad? 10. The languishing tree, 11. The chronologlst's tree, 12. And the tree that makes one sod? 13. What's the emulous tree, 14. The industrious tree, 15. And the tree that never will stand still? lf. The unhealth lest tree, 17. The Egyptian plague tree, IS. And the tree neither up nor down hill? 19. The contemptible tree, 20. The most yielding tree, 21. And the tree that bears a curse? 22. The reddish brown tree, 23. The reddish blue tree, 24. And the tree like an Irish nurse? 25. What is the tree, That makes each townsman flee? what round itself doth entwine? 27, What’s Uic housewife’s tree. 28. And the fisherman's tree; 29. What by cockneys is turned into wine? 30. What’s the tree that got up, 31, And the tree that was lazy. 93, And the tree that guides ships to go forth ? 33. The tree that’s immortal, 21. The trees that arc not, 35. And the tree whose wood faces the north ? 3G. The tree in a bottle, 37. The tree in a fog, 38. And what each must become cro he's old? 39. The tree of the people, 40. The traveler’s tree, 41. And the sad tree when schoolmasters hold? 42. What’s the tree that has passed through the fiery heat, 43. That half-given to doctors when ill ? 44. The tree that we offer to friends when we meet, 45. And the tree we may use os a quill? IC. What’s Uic tree that in death will benight yon, 47. And the tree that your wants will supply? 48. And the tree that to travel invites yon, 49. And the tree that forbids you to die? ANSWERS. 1. / Pear. 25. Citron. I Tea. 26. Woodbine. 2. Hop. 27. Broom. 3. Beech. 28. Basswood. 4. Spruce. 29. Vine. 5. /Tulip. 30. Rose. A Yew. 31. / Satimrood. ly, 4 Aloe. 7. Peach. 32. (H>elm. 8. Judas. 33. Arbor-viUe. 9. Fir. 31. Pyewoods. 10. Pine. :15. .Southernwood. 11. Date. 3fl. Cork. 12, Weeping-willow. 37. (Smoke-tree. 18. Ivy. i Hazel. 14. Spindle-tree. 38. Elder. 15. Caper. Poplar. 16. Sycamore. 40. Wayfaring-tree. 17. Locust. 41. Birch. 18. Plane. 42. Ash, 19. Medlar. 43, Coft'ee. 20. ( Indian-rnbbcr. 44. Palm. J Sago palm. 4-5. Aspen. 24, (Fig. 40. Dcadlynightshade. (Damson. 47. Breadfruit. 22. Chestnut. 48. Orange. 23. Lilac. 49. Olive. 24. Honeysuckle. Preparing Olivo Oil. The olives arc placed between two mil stones and ground into a paste, stones ant all. This paste is put into jute bagf which are piled up in an ordinary pres and subjected to pressure furnished by screw. The oil oozes through the bags and is caught in pans or vessels, and thei bottled. The most remarkable feature o the process is that some four or five diffei ent qualities are obtained from one lot o olives. This ia explained by the fact tha the oil oozing out at first is the result onl qf slight pressure, consequently is sweete and lacks the ranker flavor of the seconc third, and fourth grades, which partak more or less of the olive stones. The las grade ia frequently so rank that it can 111 be used for eating purposes, but instead used as the basic matter in the manufat turc of soap, etc. The residue or pasi left after the oil has been extracted unde goes chemical treatment, and the oil ol tained from this is used as a lubricant.- Herald of Trade. A Simple Remedy. A correspondent of the “English M chanie”says; Let all of those who suffi with rheumatism read the following i 111 wife has suffered occasionally with aou rheumatism in her feet, with painful swe ing, completely taking her off her feet f many days at a time. The following ret cdy was recommended recently and trio and took away the agonizing pain in le than fifteen minutes, and she can now wa very fairly, and in a couple of days si will be able to button her boots and wa without a stick or crutch. Take one qua of milk, heat quite hot, into which stir 01 ounce of alum; this makes curds and whe; Bathe the part affected with the whey uni too cold. In the meantime keep the cun hot, and after bathing put them on as poultice, wrap in flannel, and —go to slei (you can). Three applications should 1 a perfect cure, even in aggravated oases. In New York 1 EXHAUSTION OF PETROLEUM. ■ 'IVImI S<iunlilir Jlen llnvr fo Say on Subject I'llmlHtiiltublo Si^ns. It cun hardly he doubled, I fear, that supply both of oil and gas has now been largely drawn upon that within less than seoro of years scarcely any will be which can bo brought at reasonable costal into the market. The boundaries and I extent of the oil regions have been deter- B mined. All the sands in which oil ever be found in such quantities as to worth working arc known, and have drilled through in various places. It scarcely possible that any new fields will be B discovered which will be comparable either B in extent or productiveness with those known. So far back as January, Professor Lesley pointed out that no petro- B leum is now being produced in the Devon- I ian rocks, either by the process akin to 1 distilation or otherwise. What has been I stored up in the past, a process which I probably lasted for millions of years, may ■ I be got out. But when these reservoirs are 1 exhausted there will be an end of the pc- I troleum supply. “The discovery ol a few I more pools of two or three millions of bar- I rels each can make little difference.” Carll, whose opinion on the geology of oifbearing districts may be regarded as cisivc, has come to a similar “There are not at present,” ho pointed quite recently, “any reasonable grounds fjlfl expecting the discovery of new fields whiclTß will add to the declining products of the I old, so as to enable the output to keep paeJ ■ with the shipments or consumption." fl The stored petroleum in this region has B then been very nearly exhausted. In Icssß than a generation a small part of the popu-B latinn of this continent alone has used upß nearly all the valuable stores of which had been accumulated during ions of years of the geologic past. More recent inquiries confirm the elusions of Professor Lesley and Mr. Carll. B The signs of exhaustion in the oil prodne- w ing regions can now be clearly recognized. 1 During the last four years there has been 1 a steady diminution in the output, accom panied by an increase in the price per bar rel, which nevertheless does not even main tain the nominal annual value of the supply Mr. Wriglcy announced in 1882 tba 154,0011,000 barrels of oil bad already beet raised up to the beginning of that yean and expressed the opinion that not more than 90,000,000 barrels remained to be raised. In this last estimate he was un doubtedly mistaken, for up to the beginn ing of 1885 no fewer than 2C1,000,00( barrels bad been raised, and in the year 1885 as many as 21,042,041 barrels (nearly 3,000,000 fewer than 1884) were obtained. But although the estimate in 1882 of the quantity of oil still remaining fell far short of the truth, and though wo may admit as possible that even now much more oil re mains to be put out than the most experi enced geologists suppose, the signs of ap proaching exhaustion arc yearly bccomiu more unmistakable. The expense of bringing the oil to th surface grows greater year by year, am threatens soon to become so great that tin profit of working the oil stores will bi evanescent. So soon as that state of things is approached, we may be sure that the oil I men's occupation in Pennsylvania anil 1 western New York will be gone. It has I been stated that the Japanese, unwilling to I let the least fraction of the earth’s interior I stores be lost, have been known to cxca- I vate a vertical shaft to a depth (100 feet, iiJ order to raise a few gallons of oil per But in America, when the oil mines are near exhaustion as this, they will bo doned long before they approach such B condition. With the failure of the oiß supply, all the collateral branches of indus- I try associated with it will fall too. — Knoicl - 1 'tty- Anecdotes about Rev. Dr. Schafif. I The Chambersburg, Pa., Valley Spirit, of last week, contains the following ancc- 1 dotes about Rev. Dr. Schaff, a well-known a minister of the Reformed Church, whirl J will be enjoyed by many of our readers The article says :—That intellectual giantfl and expounder of difficult theological trines was a child outside of his study, pulpit or his class room. A story tohß many years ago and now being reprinted 1 illustrates this admirably. Soon after Dr. Schaff’s marriage the question as to the disposal of the kitchen refuse came up. A neighbor advised Doctor to buy a small pig and the advice was accompanied by an offer to sell him one. Accordingly the pig was purchased, and immediately another problem came up to be solved, viz : how to get a pen for it. Casting about, the Doctor discovered a large dry goods box in which some of his household effects had been received. He set to work with saw and hammer, and with pieces of boards from the box ho soon con structed a pen, which was only a little lar ger than the pig itself. In a few weeks the pig grew so that it hardly had room to turn around, and another difficult question had to be settled. The man who had solved knotty theological problems with ease and rapidity was nonplussed here. He studijßß over this matter several days; meanwhlß the pig was hourly getting larger. lie IB ’ nally decided to go over to the neighboß 5 from whom it was purchased, and ask ila 1 he would not be kind enough to exchangflß ’ evenly and give him another small pig for® ' the large one that had outgrown its pen. 1 The exchange was made and Dr. Schaff ' frequently told his intimate friends of tk|g great kindness his neighbor had him in giving him a little pig for a hig ' without any charge. And the Doctor was r in earnest, too. ’ The incidents in which Dr. Schaff fig -8 ures during his life at Merccrsbmg are numerous. He obtained his wife in Mary -1 land, and on one occasion, before his mar s riage, he started on horseback to visit her. Ho was impatient of the journey and kept e his steed on a gallop nearly the entire trip. '* When he arrived in Hagerstown some of h his friends remonstrated with him. “You’ll kill your horse,” they urged. Dr. Schaff looked for a second disdainfully at the horse and incredulously at his advisers and then burst forth in his impetuous way ; “What! j- I’m on fe wings of love 1” And he started r the tired nag on a gallop out of town. It y should be said for the benefit of those who e never heard Dr. Schaff that the letters fe 1- stood for “the” in his speaking vocabulary. ,r After ho was married he was uneXpect i- cdly visited one day by some people whom 1, he wished to entertain as nicely as possible, as He went into the yard and caught a chicken k and then while his wife held it under the le pump he pumped water on it vigorously ik for a time in the endeavor to remove its rt feathers. A good neighbor was a witness le to the occurrence and compassionately as j. siated in the preparation of the meal. A il The celebrated theologian Is once, while riding horseback^ .had a to ford the t’onococheaguo creek p eeraburg. After he had reached ie In* directed bis steed to a and requested of a lady who call that she give him a