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$2 PER ANNUM..
IN the Circuit Court for Carroll Co.
sitting in Equity.
Ellen J. Mnssamore, plaintiff, vs. Henry L.
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
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
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.
r,i Wm. N. Martin, Clerk.
L • OF
■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
:iml oi h° r - s *
I hat valuable farm
BBB ; - i'LUiiKS
with a two
g£j )t BxnmtaHt
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
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
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
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.
WM. N. Martin, Cleric.
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.
6t Wm. N. Martin, Clerk.
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
. U, p HAWK MAN, D. h. S.
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.-
|Si|SifeP^B; ASS BRICK
" 5 b’irst Glass
w anted. I Vr
d oXa I. .
"1 ! II n ■
|S^|fm|^!lS^K n^''r ' M<l
MD., SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1887
Select f odru. J
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
The brook begins with
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,
The throb of cet
Half the do.
They make the sorr^Tsmile,
They make 111 0 wickeo^pray.
They make tJ® brave teppure,
And they dJ It—evenway.
rPI&EIf. a *
*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
“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
“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-
“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
“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,
“I read this aloud to Tcrcsita, who came
in with our boy in her arms.
“‘Why don’t you go? At once! she
“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
“ ‘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
“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
“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
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
“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
“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
“‘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 ?’
“ ‘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
“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
“‘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
“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
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
, ' 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.
“ ‘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
“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
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
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?
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.
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
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
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