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TO Lynne’s Choijr • -by- r BERPHA-M:'‘CL>'Y., / ContlrnyTiL wha' I 6*ar,” he replied, ‘U4y I ask yopfr help. You have oytr her than any one, muap persuade her. In weeks fyon this day 1 shall ask her to. be my wife; If she refuses, you know the consequences. Do your best for me; and remember, I never fall in keeping my promise.” He did not wait to say more, but left her with those last words ringing In her ears. When Lord Lynne returned he hastened Brut to his lady’s boudoir; she was not there. He rang the bell, and asked her maid where her mis tress was.' “My lady was In the drawing-room an hour or two ago,” replied the girl. “I have not seen her since.” “Inez," erlpd Lord Lynne, as he o'pened the drawing-room door, "are you here?” There was no reply; but, looking Into the apartment on a couch at the far end there lay my lady.i with a pale face and rigid lips. She 1 had lain t'We senseless for hours. “My darling!” cried the bewildered husband, "what is if?” His passionate caresses tnd loving words brought back some color to the pale face. A startled, frightened ex pression was In her eyes as she opened them. “On Philip!” she cried, “is It you, dear? I have had such a frightful dream; It waft so dreadful that I fainted in my sleep.” All that evening he sat by her, every kind word, every proof of his love and devotion stabbing her to the heart. Agatha was seriously alarmed at what she considered a return of her sister’s Illness. Many were the dis mayed looks exchanged between the husband and sister as they bent over the pale, stricken girl, so unlike the radiant and beautiful Lndy Lynne. Late In the evening, when Inez was alone with her husband, she threw her arms around him aud drew his face near her own. “Philip." she said, “my husband. I have loved you you very much, and T have never asked one favor from you. Will you grant me one now, at any risk, at any trouble, at any sacrifice?” He looked with wonder ut the wild agitation shown In her face. “I will do anything e.nd everything you ask me. my dear wife," he said. “I atn- wretched about you." ■’lake me abroad. Philip,” she whispered. “I am 111 and unnerved. All this excitement has been too much for me. lam craving for rest. Tike me away where no one knows us. I shall die If l iVmaln here.” "You shall go, my darling,” he said. "I should have been more careful of you. You were used to sueh a quiet !if(JjPTJi!ame myself bitterly: but I ■vygdo aU 1 M~Hi atone for It. You shall go as soon as you like." "Let us start tomorrow,” she cried, eagerly. He smiled as one humoring the ca prices of a sick child. "That would be too soon." he said. “Yon would not have time to pre"ire. If you like, we will go on alone as far as Haris on Thursday, and the ser vants can follow us with the luggage. "That will do,” she replied. "And, Philip, promise me you will not tell one Mngle creature where we are go ing. cr ‘hat we are going, or anything about It-, will you?" "Not against your wish, certainly,” he said; "but tell me why?” "If you talk about It," she said, "people will try to .persuade you not to go, and you will give in to them. Promise me, Philip, that you will not tell a single creature; St is just tie end of the season, and every one Is going somewhere.” To please and console his wife, Igml Lynne gave the promise. "What about Agatha and Hortlng ton ’ he said. “Our going will inter fere with that arrangement." *iYth<'re Is nothing in it.” replied his wifAwenrily. "Agatha does not care for IP\ nd. oh Philip," she con *• \ " s '>'■ "oiii. \ gat ha must go with \ T would not stir with out her." Owing t<>V td Lynn's g„„t ni;in . agemeu*. all pv'emit;.ms tor th Jour* ney were so<\_ m-. '• mi going a broad caused bdL ■ •••: tlu* - was drawing to a\ mV .... were all leaving N > One- not even his wife's maid. nor Agatha herself knew destlna- one could fly frolk of ' ss " ' ■ \ I hi is I' ii " i ‘v and motme > \ W ▼ \ CHAPTKR XXXVIL IMPreut and sorrowful changes had WoUHuied to Florence Wvverxt ■ ihe sto. the sunl't lawn Of . s< * v< * r the white ■ re - . he . Ffgance anJ uWfniW IndulgencMahc ► • ••"'•'f know**, ungvatV rhe late earl had Ven a pi-liga! VJ eia life The . iunlm* A b e kept tip at the castle Anifleenf There why# while troops ow dodTestfe, porvunts. and carriages, and most without number; and profusion reigned alike In the hall and kitchen; no one ever looked after anything; and ofthis extravagant and unlimited household Lady 'Florence had sole mistress almost from the time she had been walk. True, there was a stately old house keeper, even as there were a butler and a steward; but the chief occupa tion of the servants at Severnoke Castle seemed to be, In plain and per haps somewhat vulgar English, what is generally known as "feathering their own nest.” The earl himself seldom, If ever, came to Severnoke; he was engaged in a round of dissipation and pleasure that emptied his once well-filled cof fers rapidly. The end to his career came at last, and Txml Wyvern awoke from a long dream of folly and Indulgence, to find himself old, feeble, and ruined. Of his large fortune nothing remained. The estate, which was entailed, was al ready plunged Into debt and difficult ies. The sale of every personal ef fect he had In the world would not clear It: and, worse than all, no pro vision had been made for his beauti ful young daughter. At his death, when Severnoke Castle passed into the hands of his heir, the poor girl would be homeless and penniless. It was this fact that tortured him above all others when he came to his senses, but he was powerless to help himself. It was then too late to undo the evil he had done. The few last months of his life were embittered by this knowledge; It shortened his days, and Lady Florence knew nothing of the dark future that lay before her until she stood by her father's death lied. Then he confessed his folly and his crime; but he knew not where to turn to find 11 friend for his unfortu nate child. He had not one. Men had drunk and gambled with him, and had taken his money In bets, but there was not one among his old companions to whom he could turn In his hour Of bitter need. Florence was even more friendless; she had spent her life at the Castle, and no one visited there. The only relation she had was Lady Hlake; some distant housing of the earl were still In Eng land the Dudleys of Houton—but they refused to acknowledge the prodi gal peer during his life, and they re fused to assist his daughter after his death. The next heir, the present Earl of Wyvern, was young, and of a mean, parsimonious disposition. He sian d.jrod the name of the old earl. And this he did in the presence of the child who had never known anything but indulgence and tenderness from that same father, anu who had loved him with all the warmth of her young heart; so that, when the young earl offered to Florence a meagre Income from the es tate. she indignantly refused It, and told him she would rather starve than he under any obligation to the man who had slandered her father. Something like pity seized him when he saw the young girl bid farewell to the stately home where she had so long reigned as queen. But she passed out of his life, and he was easily con soled for the slight pain he suffered. Lady Blake offered the friendless orphan a home; but the bread of de pendence is proverbially bitter, and that of Lady Blake was of the bit terest. Years and years ago she had imagined herself wronged in some business matters by the dead earl. She had never forgiven him; and she found no better subject of conversa tion with which to entertain his un happy daughter than the constant abuse of her father’s memory. I-ady Florence endured it Tor a time, but she had tenderly loved this poor, prodigal father, and her heart bled at every fresh taunt and insult heaped upon blm v "He is dead: they might spare him now at least," she cried to herself. Then the poor child went to Lady make, and negged her to refrain from a subject that caused her so much pain. Her ladyship's anger at what she was pleased to call such imperti nent interference, was, unbounded: she spoke angrily to pook Lady Flor ence, taunting her with hetyrfependence and her poverty. f Then the child, for shK was >ittle more, found herself akiue In her bor row; her thoughts tleV to Lord Lynne and she longed in her grief for a kind, sympathising word ft am cme who had been a friend: but he made no sign. *be heard he was married, and she to herself bitterly, that he happiness and pros verity had en her. Hut to continue at l,adv Take s was an impossibility. ’ lieiv u, „ , help for }t .. V '• Florence. "I must do as other \ hl,v done before me. 1 must wKy k 'or my living." Mr ii*'w wh< re her old singlsg innate*, s inor llucchi, reaUftd, in her despair be Vent.to him and asked his assignee^ g cBWo. cried. '1 wlir\teaoh. work, or beg. but remalr with Ijkiy Blake I cannot." Signor itacehi\ was too astounded I for iyeeoh. WhcWluf he had seen rthHi siting girl. sheXwns mistress of I Severn 'Ke Cast'f a vhole retinue of [wfint he called “pampebed menials" at Her command Her was fair, bvigut, and beautiful jlel fresh ti ne rose. She was magnificently droased, arid bore herself with easy dignity. Now the fair young face was paie and tear-stained; the heavy mourning dress was neither elegant nor be coming; and to complete the wonder, she stood before him, homeless, friendless, penniless, and asking for his aid to gain a livelihood. No wonder that he stood for some moments In silent wonder, too moved to speak, an(j then seizing the little white hands, that he had once seen sparkling with jewels, bathed them with honest, sympathizing tears. jr It seemed like a miracle,, he said, that he should know of Something which might suit his honored y"jng lady. By a strange coimrtdence, a lady, wose daughter he taiftht. asked him three days ago if he could find a traveling companion for bejisi if and her two daughters, who widtgoing to Italy. The lady was MrS||cadwell, the widow of a rich city merchant. It waß agreed between them that Signor Bacehi should name Miss Wyvern a/a lady in every way suited for what Mrs. Cadwell required. Lady Florence begged him to forget her title, and not mention anything of her rank or her former life. “There will be no need,’*; she said gently. “No one will write to me,—no one knows anything about me, or cares whether I am alive or dead.” Mrs. Cadwell was much pleased with the signor’s description of Miss Wy vern. “The chief point is that she should be refined and well bred,” she said. "My daughters, moving as they do in the best society, could not endure any thing else.” The singing master smiled as he contemplated the red faces of the Misses Cadwell and remembered the fair loveliness of Lady Florence. Mrs. Cadwell begged that the young lady would call on the following day; so, In compliance with her wish, the young girl went early In the afternoon to Hyde Park Square. Mrs. Cadwell was puzzled and sur prised at Miss Wyvern’s behavior. She manifested neither surprise nor embarrassment when that lady received her in her grandest manner in a drawing-room that seemed one blaze of gilt and mirrors. She passed her examination creditably, flushing the whi!<;, poor child! at the strange ques tions asked her She could speak French and Italian fluently. She had never filled a similar position; and she was living at present withadistant rel ative. When she said something about references. Mrs. Cadwell smiled, and said that Signor Bacchl’s word was quite sufficient. The Interview ended satisfactorily; Mrs. Cadwell would start for Italy on the thirtieth. If Miss Wyvern could join her two days previous to that time. It would be qute sufficient. “You will not object Miss Wyvern,” said the lady, as Florence rose to take her leave, “to giving my daughters a little instruction In Italian. t Unfor tunately, they know nothing of It, and so I am obliged to take a traveling companion.” Lady Florence declared herself will ing to do anything that Mrs. Cadwell desired. I think I have made a bargain there.” said that astute lady, as the door closed upon her visitor. “She will take all the trouble off our hands,— teach the girls, and be of great jst* to me. The only thing is Maria nai ■itilia may think her too handsome; but they must be reasonable. One can not have everything. At the appointed time Miss Wyvern made her appearance. She brought witli her to Hyde Park Square two well-filled boxes, for she had dresses in abundance. l he first contretemps that occurred, was her Ignorance of the exact posi tion of a companion. The young ladies were not visible when she arrived. Mrs. Cadwell received her kindly, and informed her that the dinner bell would ring in half-an-hour. Al though the house was partially upset and the young ladies busily engaged in packing. Florence never dreamed that they would omit the ceremony of dressing for dinner; accordingly she quickly unfastened one of iter boxes, and took out a dinner dress of black crepe, exquisitely made and trimmed. A jet brooch with a diamond in the center was her only ornament. The rich masses of her golden hair were neatly arranged; and Lady Florence looked what she was—one of Na ture’s own ge \tlewomen. She uotieed the start and surprise that Mrs. Codwell tried to conceal when she elite tea the drawing-room. She introduced uer daughters, Maria and Julia, and then offered some kind of apology, saying they were too busy and upset to dress for dinner. Miss Julia looked at the companion's enuisite toilette with something like dismay. J'he dinner was good, the table well-appointed, the servants well trained. With sharp, scrutinizing eyes. Marla and Tulia watched the uew-comer. amiahlV anxious to de tect the smallest twee of mauvaiee or 111 breedhn Rut they saw *kat the beautiful, w.ieeful girl before th\ ■: was - i.tei: ■ accustomed to h gti society. Th* Hvening was long ar. l dull; and in oApliance with Mrs. CadWvU's reque M Florence play ed atone of Jr ndelssohn's "Lie dcr o4 Ul e \Vte” and sane i 'tne Operatic \ airs. The girls were Ihi.li rathd sulky at being eclipsed; vou*,t neither play nor " ns Sl ' ''ellAs Uie companion. It "as not eletwtt o’clock when the . and . s were or® red. and Florence wearied and dMrfirited. retired to her room. w Mamma." sMd the eldest Mn Cad solemnly,# when the ,loor was ' ' -a 1 and t'w>y were alone, "were you ma 1 when y®u engaged that girl to live with us"*' To# ha continued. PEARLS IN THE CLAM HERMAN MYER DEVELOPS INDUS TRY OF GATHERING THE GEMS. NATIVE STREAMS; ■ . .I'- Sugar River in Wisconsin Said to Con tain Costliest Specimens—Wealth : u State of Tennessee —Gathering if the G-tos May Le Promoted Arti ficially. Half a gallon of pearls and one of them worth more $600! This is the remarkable sigfft today displayed by Herman Myer of New York to a few of his personal acquaintances who were invited to his rooms in the Pal mer house. Although a young man. Mr.Myer is recognized as the chief promoter of fresh- water pearl fishing in the United States. He is returning from an extended tripthrough the West and South, in the course of which he has not only visited all the streams which have acquired reputation as pearl-producing waters, but has dili gently prosecuted a campaign calcu lated to give this peculiar Industry's start in places where the inhabitants h*;ve not dreamed, of having a fortune dormant and useless in the shells of the clams in the beds of their creeks and rivers. Probably no other person has so wide and accurate a knowledge of the pearl fishing Industry in America as Mr. Myer, who now carries in a shot bag the largest number of pearls ever col lected in one place and at one time in this country. His purchases on this trip amomt to $12,000, and include all degrees, costing from 10 cents to S6OO. “The finest and, indeed, costliest pearls in the world,” said Mr. Myer, “are taken from the Sugar river in Wisconsin. This stream empties Into the Rock river in the northern extrem ity of this state. Pearls of a beauti ful metallic green and possessing a superb luster are peculiar to this little Wisconsin stream. Generally speak ing. these pearls are worth about three times as much as first-class white spe cimens. Nothing found in the Orient approaches in beauty the superb green pearls or the Sugar river. “The grey test find in the fresh-water field Is tl ,*t of White river. Ark., dis coverer it 1879. The year following the opei.,ng of these fisheries they yielded at the lowest calculation $400,000 worth of exquisitely colored pearls which were bought to New York and shipped to Paris, where the de mand for this variety is strong. Hun dreds of negroes came up from Mem phis and worked the White river beds. fc“At Paterson, N. J., in 1858, were dis covered the first fresh-water pearls brought to public attention in America. About the same time weiiiers along the Little Miami river, in Ohio, found a few good specimens in the mussel shells of that stream. Not until 1883, when pearls were found in astonishing num bers in shells taken from the Cumber land river, in Tennessee, did the indus try of fresh-water pearl a beginning. From the year of its dis covery to the present the Cumberland has yielded an annual pearl crop worth $150,000. No finer white pearls are found anywhere than, those taken from the Tennessee streams. These have the brilliant silver-white luster which distinguishes the American from the oriental poarl. The latter has a creamy tint. “The pearl for which I willingly paid S6OO was taken from the Clinch river, in eastern Tennessee, and was bought by the local Jeweler for SI,OOO. I know of no other pearl in this country that Is superior to this in size, luster and all the other points which go to make a perfect specimen, with the exception o? that owned hy Mr. Stetson of Phila delphia. That is far superior to mine, and cost SB,OOO. “The most expert and conservative dealers in pearls are now ready to ad mit that the silvery globe taken from the American clam is superior to the oriential article. The former has the biliiant luster of a drop of mercury, while the latter is more like a globule of cream. London is the great pearl market, and the dealers there at fiivt said the American pearls would not ie tain their beauty: but this was only an excuse to gain time in which to dispose of the orientals. They thought Amer ica would flood the market. On the contrary, the supply of pearls has never been equal to the demand, and the demand is constantly and rapidly increasing. * “This increase is to be accounted for by a combination of causes. The first" 1 of the reasons for the popularity of the pearl Is one of sentiment. The pearl has a modest beauty and a purity quite Its own—an individuality pos sessed by no other gem. This makes it in good taste at all times and under all circumstances. It can be appropri ately worn when the display of an ornament of any kind is allowable. The . the wearing of 'baroque,' or rougu, pearls has become fashionable In Paris. They are mounted for scarf pins for men and In a hunderd forms tor feminine adornment. Those re sembling in form the wing of an insect are quite common and formerly wore regarded as of very unforunate form. Xow they are mounted as the wings of pearl insects and bring excellent prices. "Young men in Turkey have taken to the wearing of rough pearls in the form of watch charms. Turkey Is one of the beat markets of the world for the cheaper grades of pearls. Thte is ■ because all the members of the Turk ish harem must be provided with jew elry of some kind, and the roost satis factory investment In this line seems to be the pearl, as quite a showing eaa' be made at small cost with pearls of ordinary value. “The opinion seems to prevail that the value of a pearl depends on Its size*- This is not at all true. It depends mainly on the color luster, and, next, on its shape. Another popular error is that a pearl having an Irregular, warty or pitted surface may be cut or ■ground to a desired shape -and a smooth surface. This is not 9|b case, as the touch of the instrument com pletely destroys the luster. “As to the industry of fresh-water pearl fishing, it is certainly in a most undeveloped stage. About $500,J00 worth of pearls' are annually taken from the streams of this country and this Is only a fraction of what the pearl crop might be made to be every year, for,where there are clam or mussel shells there are pearls. To make this statSaent Is easy, but to convince peo ple lWjng along a stream not known to have Bpduced pearls is a difficult mat ter. A*iver, like a prophet, has gen erally honor in its own country. ‘What! wpearls in our own home river?’ Lam asked whenever Igoto a new stream to set the industry in mo tion. Then the incredulous often add: ‘Well, it’ll be time enough to’ believe that when I can dig gold out of the gar den.’ “The only way in which people can be convinced that pearl fishing will prove a practical and profitable pursuit is that which I invariably follow. I first hire thrive of four young men by the day, paying them good wages. Then I instruct them how to gather and open the shells and find the pearls. “By close calculation I have dis covered that there is one pearl to about every thousand shells and one pearl of exceptional value in 10,000 shells. This ratio may be fairly relied upon. It Is not so difficult for a man to gather and open 2.000 shells a day, and this means that the pearl fishers seldom average under $3 a day and many run £.s high as $5 daily for the season. smali boat is used in gathering shells. The men wade beside boat>nd us.e only their hands in picking up the shells and loading them. Opening th® shells is hard on the hands, but it 9 done with great rapidity by those sho are experienced. A small knifeblad© is in serted between the halves at theitwo tendons connecting the shells. As these are the parts open, and a quick pressure of, the thumb at tne points just inside the outer ritn. where the pearls are siTre.iabe found if they are there, is all that is needed. Just as soon as one good pearl, worth $5O to $lOO, is found I know there is no longer any need of missionary work in that place and the industry will take care of itself. I have held to the policy of paying fair prices for pearls with the selfish idea that I w-ould rather make a fair profit on a thousand pearls than a large profit on one. The market is still large, and all that encourages the industry will benefit every buyer. “A series oj long and careful scien tific experiments in the growing of pearls has been conducted by Vane Simmons of Charles City, lowa. I visited his place and learned much from him. He demonstrated that a tiny, hard, globular particle implanted just within the-shell of a clam will pro duce a pearl in sbenit two years, but his expertafnts have not tended to show thsipHie culture can be made profitable. The life of a clam is five to eight years, but the growing period is not over three years. “It is interesting to know that the aborigines of this country appreciated the beauty of pearls quite as much as do the most cultivated Americans of today. W. E. Myer of Carthage, Tenn., opened an Indian burial place and found a ‘gorget’ or necklace of scallops strung with pearls. The latter were of remarkable size, but long burial and contact with the earth had rendered them chalky and valueless. Professor Warren K. Moorehead of the Ohio State university and Professor G. W. Putnam of Harvard university openei a sacrificial mound near the great Ser pent mound in Ohio and took from it two bushels of pearls.' All were ruined and bore evidence of having been sub jected to a hot fire at the time tney were offered in sacrifice —probably to stay the ravages of a plague or the in vasion of an enemy.” In his private collection Mr. Myer has a necklace made for a member of the household of Napoleon and long the property of an old New York fam ily. It is one of thp most remarkable examples of artistic pearl grouping known and required the moor of four men for six months. Its thousands of pearls fire strung on silk and horse hair an<s the design is most elaborate. Mr. Myer's.j home was in ©arthage, “Tenn.. and the early discovery of pearls In stream near the town attracted his attention while he was attending Har vard university. He took many pearls North wi * him at the end of each va cation as slfts to his friends and class mates. This led him to .ook into the commercial possibilities of the pearl industry. Immediately on leaving the university he began to develop the fresh-water pearl interests of America and has visited nearly all the sections of this country and of the old world from which pearls have been taken. He believes the west and south wi’V sooh rank pearl gathering amonsytfieir important industries.—Chfcag#ost. f ROM HAND TO aSUTH. l "I'lloiever to him again!” ex claimeJl the young woman in the pate blue jacket. “He eallbd me his queen and nqked if he might kiss my hanji I said Ires, and—an—d' after that jM .kissed me or. the lips without "I su||o*:e." said the young wonaiM| the yelliw buskins, "he follows the Hn# of least resistan t. ■ FISIUNi; ox THE SNOW !}■s?£:s Unusual Sort of Norwegian MountaimHßra| A snow avalanche with '-Br™”* usual result* is reported from Shß| It gave the people ofTttrlsUaniW|||| • • talk ahom { ,r\ a wsmT^B unique phenomenon occurred amBI the Jow mountains back 9t the March 13. There' had been an B traordinary fall of snoig, and came a big thaw, which,melted a Bgj deal of the ice'in the.?little ijfllj River. Avery l*rgq J number bad their home in Mu* *treanM||| what happened to them is the utBIS feature of this a valance 1 , JBt In the night a large jMqes of sJKSBi tiie hills on one side of stretHf|f|| lied from the slopes and idideiMSllljl great velocity down into th*BP The face of the avalanche was alic a mile in length, and for that dhtei it slid into the river;' not sharing t river bed with the water, but violent ejecting the stream and the-.fish livli in it. The force of that concussion mi have been very great, for if the wail and fish were hurled hundreds of fe Next morning the people #hra ve much surprised vo find. 1 slopes of the hills bordering the oti side of the valley, a great number fish scattered over the snow.*For sq days there was a most unusual son fishing in progress. Men. children were floundering about infil snow gathering'the fish in basketsßj ttie people living along the vadeyßi all the fish they could eat witfli baiting a hook. —New York Sun. NOISY I.ITTI.E FI RECRACKpIBB So far as the manufacture flH||i§ of fiiv-ci-arkers are I'oncernd^aßßS world ntins t<> lie divided parts ■ iml the UnitflHSßßj Lim ('a m : liie i 'in! i" ’■ .it; ■ :■ m - lin y do die work tin' fun. mostly. No otfIHBHHB outside of China itself, waked up yet to the joy and bloodshed that is ib thesienß tle-red-coated terrors from the Celes tial kingdom. According to . a recent report from Consul General of Shanghai, fit of 26.705,733, pounds of fire-crackers exported from China during 1897, over 20,000,000 \potmds came to the United States. A >ma!l quantity went to England., Other coun tries took only infinitesimal amounts. The value of our patriotism thus ex ported in the concrete was over *1,00,- 000 in gold as valued in China. Haw much more money was involved inlit by the time it got down to the stw'.l boy and its final destiny, depoaSntA saith not. In making crackers of! y*' the cheapest kind of ■ can be produced in the cality where the crackers used for the body of the little finer paper is used for per. A piece of straw paper3o inches will make 21 crackers, ■■ and one-half inches long and oiflladh of an inch in diameter. also of the cheapest ia made in the locality costs $1.50 to $1.70 per catty, cents gold per pound fuse, a paper (called Shanghai) is used, which is lnftort(3 from Japan, and is made from (fee Iqß ner lining of the bamboo. In othqjQ places a fine rice paper Is usea gen 4 eraily stiffened slightly witlAbucjUi wheat flour paste which the i'tKneiß say adds to its inflammabt-jf. JjS| strip of this paper one-thifAiSf *Bt inch wide by 14 inches HByS loot) long is laid on the very iittle powder put do die of it with a hollow A qui.-k twist of the Lise ready for use. ConsflHHHBB u Main •• they come and aifIfBHHHB nected wi.h ;!ic trade.' th'ejHHHHHj witn us are remarkably ctfflHHHB ever tin* American think about it. this cheap n !y an nnmixed hlcssiqg. an 'mm iuan citizen ot himself when be learns of labor and miserable wagefl|ijl|l|B tire-cracker makers. The labor are from 6 a. m. to M p.BHflHf ' here are seven working ea- h week. Of the paid worlflHHj large proportion is and tno and children, who are paid BHH {<'■• ■ It is estimated that ami ten men can make 1 1 ’ i"'r day, for which ve five cents each an a hour seven c.U.fcs .each.iß^j^A^| ■ ee is bound for 'mm ng .hat time r. eiv-s fIBHBHHH ' he end of that perß"' l, ' ■'••ive. if he is a fa riyJHHHHHH va.-h" ii,iy *i fv,■! 1 llltcil >l limy . , L a, * jo ten cents go! if : üßf*. is ’tint Tile pay ,s not to" i..i: - iml.e.iithß.*' ■; , N * m \ ons to a nigh degree. i- >"' i.•• an : tch-r t 1 ’ ■ mat. :p e t'.>* "■i ■■' 1 poor rcat..^HßnMHßH| • Leslie A \\’A V <ju.gr. s'-::,an A!tfß l-T: r ' !