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 ' !