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PRESERVED THROUGH AGES The Head of a Prehistoric Monster Embedded in Bitumen. IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH. A Discovery in Asphalt Mines of Considerable Value to Science. A reiparkable discovery was made about four Weeks ago in the aspbaltum mines in Kern County, when miners working 120 foot below the surface excavated the skull of a prehistoric monster. The bones were imbedded in the as phaltum deposit, and in close proximity were pieces of wood in a fair state of preservation, though hardened and black ened like Irish bogwood of forests belong ing to a far-away geological period. Foss ils in the bowels ol the earth are nothing un common, but this jawbone, or skull, is more than a, fossil, which fact gives it a peculiar significance in the study of geoloey and natural history. There are several < teeth in the jawbone that still have a coat ing of enamel, which proves that aeons ol ages ago beasts moving amid the desola tion of earth had teeth differing none either in texture or form from animals of the present age. The enamel is well pre served jn color and substance, though in side it the dentine is changed to asphaltum. %he skull is not perfect, ass parts of it had, either turned Into the black substance itself or rotted away, although there re- Fragments of the Prehistoric Skull Found in Asphaltum 125 Feet Below the Surface. [Sketched bjr a "CctV artist.] mains enough to show that it was longer than a horse's head and shaped like that trf a moose. The teeth are longer than those found in a horse, being about three . or four inohes Jong aild l^inches wide, .and they are arranged in long rows, show . ing ' hat the extinct creature had a mouth bml? for heavy business, from the fore head a massive horn protrudes like the spike >.f a rhinoceros, but of different Vuape. being flat and resembling the broad p.irtion "f the moose deer's norns. It gives the head a formidable aspect. Now it is merely asphaituui that indicates the bone liber. , A* a scientific discovery the importance of these fossiliferous fragments can be ap preciated when it is known that scientists . differ regarding the origin of asphaltum. Some of the most eminent geologist? have factorily reached the conclusion by in ductive processt-s that it is a^ mineral formed by certain chemical action, while i■' other*, whose standing entities their opinions to quite as much respect, claim it ■ iretable substance, or at least organic, and probably was animal matter similar to what can now be found at the bottom of the ocean. The fragments are now packed ready to be sent to the University of California, where they will be classified if possible and preserved as some of the most inter acting specimens in the Berkeley museum of natural history. The fragments of brambles embedded in asphalt will also be forwarded, end no doubt there will not be much difficulty in determining its species. The discovery and preservation of those exceedingly valuable specimens are mainly due to JJernard Bienenfeld, a civil engi neer connected with the mines at Asuhalto, who studied at the university, "It deals with the mysterious," said he, while describing some of the wonders of . study in the almost scientifically unknown region of Asphaito. "It brings us to think of what might have been. The mysterious study opens up a new world to our view." "And is it really so wonderful?" "Well, who can explain it all? Asphal tum is supposed to be of animal origin, or of vegetable origin. The presumption fa vors tne theory that it is from the animal matter of infusoria. "And here — see for yourself— we have a veil-preserved head of an animal hewn out of the asphaltum deposit 12u feet down in the earth. I would not wish to set up an opinion or draw an inference from this fact, but it does impress me strongly that this head was part of the animal remains that formed asphaltum. Possibly it was millions of years ago— who knows? Who can count the geological periods in years? Time is lost in it. And, think of it, here are teeth with the gray enamel still firm, still smooth and shiny, in the asphalt." . He unpacked the fossils with extreme care lest pieces of the friable stuff might crumble off at his touch. Remember, strictly speaking, they are more than fossils, for the teeth are enameled, and— fancy the sensation of handling portions of a creature that moved and had its being countless ages before this world was ready for man! '. One package contained a piece of jaw ing the teeth on the outer side, another showed sections of teeth and the . bone in which they were embedded, with .-. mere th^ll-like covers for asphalt that once • was dentine. A tooth curved like a seg ment of a circle, fully 3 inches lone and S inches by lj£ inches in section, weighed •nearly a pound. The horn is a horrible thing to look at It measures about G inches m lingth, 8 inches in width and from 2to half an inch in thickness. This stood erect between the animal's eyes, and must, have proved a most persuasive feature in his way of arguing. Among the other interesting pieces is a jawbone seven inches long, in a good state -of preservation, and clearly showing the bone hber although really nothing but so much asphal turn, save where the enamel projects. I hey vail have to be put together by the s professors at the university? who may be able tg reconstruct a complete .skull of » prehistoric animal that roamed °Iri r od rQia 1U tertiar y or quaternary Practically little geological work has been done m the region Where the fossils were found. Just fifty miles to the west of tains skirting the western San Joauuin Valley, this strange land lies. Blinding ashes and parched wnite dust, pools of Jiquid asphaltum and streams of that pitchy Viscid Etuff trickling from cracks in hillsides; creeks and little lakes of sul phurous water emitting .v gas that ignites and blazes, srreat masses of solid bitumen protruding from the ground like lava long grown cold; all these together and a soil on which a strange, stunted brushwood grows form its characteristic landscape. There are large beds of infusorial earth 300 to 400 feet 'thick and extremely light. The surface is bleached intensely white by the sun burning out the little asphalt oil on top. Underneath is a brown, impalpable dust like volcano ashes — a mighty ash neap, and yet composed of shells of the infusoria, visible only under a powerful microscope. From the presence of this dustit may be taken that asphalt is infusorial also, be ing formed out of animal matter of in fusoria, while the mineral matter, or white shell dust, remained above it. There are beds of brown sand, almost a sandstone, parallel to the direction of as phalt deposits, am} seemingly -underlying them in the strata. This brown sand coheres through the agency of asphaltum material in it, and has stood like a dike against the erosion of geological periods. One more very interesting feature of the district is the "mineral tar, as it is com monly called, or liquid asphaltuni. It ex udes in many places and trickles downhill until a hollow is reached and black pools are formed. In those pools lizzards, bee tles, rabbits, birds, and even a deer and a bear have been found, all embalmed by the liquid that killed them. THREE GEESE AND A GOAT How They Continue to Annoy a New York Pounds . keeper. Yet the Goat Is Declared to Be a Fine One and the Geese Are Ready to Roast. A black goat and three white geese are waiting to be gold at the Public Pound, 2354 Arthur avenue, Fordham, says the New York Times. Ponndmaster Michael Donohue, the black goat and the three white geese were ready to carry out their part of the sale just as announced. The only trouble was that no one went to the sale. Therefore the black goat is still eating the Pound master's hay, while the geese are getting fat at his corn-crib. The fact that the sale did not come off indicates that the goat and goose market above the Harlem River is overstocked. Poundmaster Donohue says he will be thankful to find some one who is willing to sive ">0 or 75 cents for the goat. Ihe Public Pound at Fordham is within five minutes' walk of the railroad station. There was a blood-red flag flying in front of the Pouudkeeper's house all day yester day. It bore the words, "Public Sale." Yet no one stopped to buy the black goat or the three white geese. The pound is not a very attractive place. One knocks at a little red door in the base ment of Mr. Donohue's house and if it be a day for a sale Mr. Donohne is there to ! guide the visitor through a dark passage way, more or less encumbered with wash tubs into the pens at the back of the house that constitute the public pound. There is a row of stalls under a long j shed, in which the animals found straying ! about the streets or vacant lots of the north ! side are kept until their owners call for them, or until they are sold at public auc tion. In one of these stalls yesterday the black goat nibbled hay. He is a first-class goat in every way. He had long, wavy chin whiskers and a band of white about his neck that looked like a necktie, giving him quite a sanctimonious air. A poiiceiuan ; found him down in One Hundred and Thir i ty-third street, and aftex a long struggle eot him to the pound. That was seven I days ago. .Mr. Donohue said that late one afternoon I he saw a swirling cloud of dust coming 1 to- I ward the pound from down the road, i Finally he found that in the center of the 1 dust cloud were a big policeman and a little : goat, but he could not tell which one was j doing the leading. That is. the way the sanctimonious ! looking goat went to the pound. The geese 1 arrived on the same day. Poundmaster Donohue kept goat and ! geese three days without saying a word. Then he had a notice of the coming auction sale published and waited three days more. The poundmaster hune out the little red flag yesterday. Though they were not sold, Mr. Donohue has not given up, and for a week or two longer he will keep them in the hope of finding purchasers. He began early yesterday morning to make preparations for the sale. He and 1 his hired man cleaned out all the stalls, straightened things about the yard, and j paid particular attention to the black | toilet. The goat rewarded them for their pains by butting them once or twice. Bat all their work was to no purpose. The rain came, and goat and'goose customers iluid away. "It's a bad thing altogether," said Mr. i Donohue. "If I had to depend on keeping ! a pound I'd starve. A lucky thing for me : it is that I have a little outside Business. Now, look at that goat. He's eaten two or 'three times his value already, and he will ! go right on eating for two or three weeks j longer, bad luck to him. "Do I get many goats here? Well, I j should say I did. Seven or eight some J weeks. Some one most always comes to j claim them. They don't amount to a little bit to sell. People don't want goats. They would, though, if the stray goats were like my milch goat there. She is good for two ! pints of milk a day. "Geese and such things don't amount to ! much. Lots of them are brought here. j Not many chickens, though. They know i enough to go to their own roosts. 'We have some pretty big sales up here. j Now and then a horse strays in or a cow ! that no one comes to claim. Then there ia , a sale that amounts to something." Mr. Donohue added a few words deroga i tory to goats, went to the street door to j see if there were any customers coming I and then gave the black goat and his own | goats their dinners. • * « Oklahoma for Divorce.' •; I South Dakota's Legislature has finally I | defeated the effort to amend the divorce i law of that State on the line of "free-and | easy." The movement to re-establish the | old conditions, under which no previous residence in the Territory was necessary to the beginning, of a suit, for divorce, which i would be forthcoming in ninety days, has j failed, and the hotel-keepers and lawyers are in a condition of disgust, says the St. j Louis Republic. ■ - Oklahoma is taking the place in odorous fame which South Dakota has refused to resume. Practically the old Dakota divorce law now prevails iv Oklahoma, with the additional advantage that no notice is to be served upon the person from whom a divorce is sought, unless by accident he or she should happen to see a printed notice of th. application ■ in some obscure Okla homa | kpti. ■.... Several large hotels are to be erected in the principal towns of Oklahoma, the divorce lawyers of South Dakota are pre paring to move. ' , . , • — — +- ". A story is told of an English surgeon, who, in his earlier days, attended a critical operation in Paris. , When it was over the complete silence and immobility of the patient held ■ the students in awed sus pense. After a few -moments, seeing still no signs of the. agonies, they knew the patient must be suffering, they exclaimed in one breath: "He is dead; he is dead!" "No. gentlemen," one of the chief surceons answered, "he is not dead ; he is -English.", -\ ' An interdenominational convention of | Christian ministers is to be held in Vir ! prinia during the present month. The list of those who will take part includes 119 Methodists, 114 Baptists, 30 Presbyterians, If, Lutherans and 11 Episcopalians. The convention is called to discuss the office of the Holy Spirit. THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 1895. PUTTING ON THE PATCHES How Valuable Paintings Are Mended by Skilled Artists. A STORY OF ONE OF THEM Three Years' Time Is Taken Up to Restore a Single Canvas. "When I tell you that by a certain science and a delicate art the paint can be removed from wood or canvas and successfully placed upon new canvas, and that even the ink upon a fine engraving may be trans ferred from one piece to another without in the least destroying the impression of the picture, you may be astonished, al though, in fact, this is being done every day by the men engaged in this remark able art, write 3 Marvin R. Clark in the Philadelphia Times. It is a delicate art, as you will readily understand, and re quires a patient hand and the eye of an artist to perform the work, but these are at the service of those who can afford to pay well for the work. The most delicate part of this peculiar art and that which is most remunerative is the work upon paintings, and this has two distinct branches — one the easy process of filling the cracks made by age or accident, and the other the more difficult art of transferring a pain tine from one canvas to another, and what is most difficult of all work, the transferring of a painting from wood to canvas. The first work— that of filling the cracks — is done with a composi tion worked in from the back, after which it is backed with canvas. The renovator of oil paintings makes | light of the ordinary work of transferring the canvas-backed painting to a new canvas, but it takes years of experience to accomplish the simplest part of this work, and few men are born who have the tact and delicacy of touch requisite for the art. In such transferring several pieces of tissue paper are pasted on the face of the paint ing after it is removed from the frame. When this is completely dry the canvas is thoroughly wet and then it is peeled and picked thoroughly, thread by thread, from the back of the picture, thus leaving the painting fast to the paper on the face. When this is dried again a new canvas i 9 glued to the back of the picture, and after this in turn is dry the tissue paper is wet and peeled off from the face. When again thoroughly dry the picture is ready for the cleaning and renovating process. The transferring of paintings has been rendered more difficult of late years for the reason that very many paintings of modern times have been done upon wood because painters have become fond of painting on wood on account of its being 90 firm and smooth under the brush. Many artists in Spain and Italy use wood now almost exclusively, and our American artists are rapidly following their example. But wood will decay, and when It does it must be looked after and repaired, and sometimes the entire painting must be transferred from this rotting wood in order to preserve it from ruin and complete ex tinction. The picture-mender worthy of his title is an aristocrat and he necessarily feels his importance, for is he not a man of science? Indeed he is, and a man with a science, too. He has learned his science through many years of experience, perhaps, for the very men who are noted for being adepts in the art — and there are only three of them throughout the entire length and breadth of New York — were brought up, it may be said, one in an artist's studio and the others in an artstore, where engrav ings of a doubtful ownership were kept for sale. All started from low and impover ished beginnings and all have made them selves wealthy by good work and»cunning speech. Three only, in a city of a million aid a half fouls, have reached perfection in an art that pays the artißan a greater remuneration than even the master paint ers of modern times receive for their labor with brush and pencil. Through the courtesy of the owner of a large artstore I procured the name and ad dress of the picture-mender regarded by him asttbe best of the three, while he re iterated "there are only three picture menders in the entire city, sir, only three and no more — not even any pretenders." In reply to my question as to the profitable ness of the business of picture-mending, | this gentleman said: #l I do not know of any profession or busi- 1 ness, trade or whatever name yon may call an occupation by that can" compare the profession of picture-mending in re gard to its money-making qualifications, especially when you consider the small amount "of capital and outlay required to carry on the work. In fact a man with a good idea of the work before him may start without a cent and make a fortune in a year. There is always plenty of work for him to do, and the only difficulty lies witli us who take the work from our regular customers and turn it over to the picture-mender. We are pestered to death by the owners of pictures and engravings who are always anxious to get back their pet pictures, and it is often a year or more before the return of some of the most par ticular work. "It is a singular fact," continued the art dealer, "that as soon as a picture gets in jured in any way it becomes an object of greater interest to the owner and takes such high rank in the mind of its possessor that we have come to call such cripples 'pets' to the faces of their owners and 'cripples' behind their backs. In fact, they are entered on our book of repairs as 'cripples,' and known as such throughout the store. Speaking of picture-menders, however, this one I gave you the address of has been in the business for many years, and is now worth, to my certain knowl edee, $150,000. A portion of this amount he has accumulated by speculation in oil paintings, but the bulk of it he has gath ered in for his work. You will find his large parlors filled with choice paintings by both old and modern painters, and many of them are of great value, while none are cheap work 9. Give him a call and you will profit by it." The residence and" workroom, as well as what might be called the gallery of this picture-mender, is not far uptown in New York City, and is a pretentious looking four-story brownstone residence, finishec in costly hard woods and elegantly deco rated throughout. It is 20 or U;> feet fro by some 70 feet in depth. There was n indication of the occupation of the occ pant upon the outside of the house, am I hesitated before touching the electn bell with a feeling of cer'amty that th elegant and stately mansion could not 1 the workroom of a picture-mender. Bu it proved to be such. I was ushered in the parlor and asked for my card. Iwa absorbed in the contemplation of masterly work of art by one of our ow American boys when a soft voice came v over my shoulder and into my ear: "A fine thing, that. Pity the poor boy dead, I say, although, of course, you knem his work never was worth anything unt he joined the great majority. Pity, isn' it, that artists, like all the rest of humau ity, are never fully appreciated until the are dead and gone from the face of th earth. Fame, sir, fame is what all the artists are looking for, and few of them get it until after they are dead, and then what good does it do them ? They starve and die by inches all their lives tor fame and seldom $et a taste of it. lam at your service, sir." It was the picture-mender. To my surprise the second floor of this costly mansion was fitted up as what ap peared at first sight to be a carpenter-shop, for once out of the hallway and in the front room the mansion lost its identity. There was a long, broad carpenter's bench, with vises and all the tools requisite for the work of a carpenter, and in the back room was another bench or tabls covered with tools in great variety. At the bench was a }poung man employed in planing what appeared to be a piece of oak with a jack plane whose iron was concave, for the wood was grooved iv large grooves by the operation of the tool. He was getting rid of the wood upon which a celebrated painting was placed many years ago, and when he succeeded in working it down to the white backing of the painting it was to be mounted upon canvas and nobody but a connoisseur on close scrutiny would know the difference. This wood was decayed in several places. In the front room other work was being carried on and still other branches of the business was being attended to by several people on the third floor. "I am very busy now," said the picture mender, "for my patrons have mostly re turned from the country and the winter is coming on. I get the bulk of the work in this and several other cities and manage to keep going all the year round, with work enough ahead not in a hurry to keep us at it for a year or two. •'Yes, our work is varied, but it is all in paintings. We get paintings that are punched with canes, umbrellas, chairs, balls from the hands of children, smoked and burned with both fire and acid, almost ruined by some fool of a picture-cleaner or by the owners themselves, who want to be penny wise and pound foolish. We get pictures in all sorts of crippled condition, and you would be dumfounded to see some of them when they come here mangled beyond recognition and look at them when we get through with them. "The biggest part of my work is mending pictures that have been ruined by care fesnegs, but I do a good deal of restoring and cleaning — renovating it is called — and nearly all the fine work in transferring comes to me for I have always made a success of it. You'd be surprised to know the number of 'crip plea' we get in a year. The owners of valu able paintincs are very careless about them. It seems to me that parlors where there are valuable paintings and other works of art are very costly places for the children to play ball and shoot air guns iv. But I protitDy such indulgences to the babies of wealthy people and will not complain." THE DECKHAND. It was a feature of Herringbourne that the people always wanted something to lean against. As individuals they leaned against walls; as a community they were held up by the church, the brewery and Hurley's Fleet. When the church had done its "teas" and the brewery its malt ing the Fleet was a strong supporter. On a November afternoon, when the branches of the trees on the quay were black and bare, the water in the harbor a mud color and the blocks on the rigging of the moored ships stood out like warts against a cold, gray sky, Genth Hurley, the Fleet owner, was doing what all owners do — he was paying a smack's crew their poundage. The' smack had just come up and the crew, in duffels, guernseys and sou'westers, were scattered about the office. They were a Btalwart set of men with basin-cropped heads and shaved necks. Some had brought their shifting bags ashore, and, with the cheerful ease of men who had not washed for eight weeks, sat on the tops of them. One big fellow, seated thus, nursed on his sea boots a boy so small and black that he looked as if he had just dropped down a flue. He was the cook. "Well, skipper," said Genth, as he put first one and then another little pile of money on his desk, "what sort of weather have you had?" "Well, ov ncr," said the skipper, who was feeling aSout his head for a chaw of tobacco, wnich he had dabbed at his sou' wester and lost in his hair, "I'll speak the truth. It wos b'isterous. A tree reeved sail an' the little jib nearly all the time, an' mount'ins p' sea on the Dogger. Also, a most unforti'n&teaarcumstance; a-comin' home poor Billy Dabbt* nearly had his bows stove in with the mainsul bume." "I see." said Genth, "you are a man short. I'm sorry about poor Billy. Per haps one of you will take him his pound age? You'll have to ship another man, Holmes. Here's your money, my lads." He laid tho last little pile of money on his desk. One by one the crew claimed their own. When all were paid, and the sound of -the last pair of sea boots had died on the pavement, Geiith started to put ihe books right. He was about eight-and twenty, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a plain earnest face. Before he had finished the soft illumination of the setting sun had tinted the muddy water that eddied against the bridge. When the red-tiled roofs on the opposite side were a glowing orange he heard a knock. "Come in !" he cried. The invitation met no prompt response. There was a fumble with the handle, a fatiguing wiping of feet on the flags, then, as if by electricity, the door flew open. "Well?" said Genth. "What is it?" "I have come," said the visitor, "about a berth — on a smack." "It's no use coming to me, my man," said Hurley. "You must go to the skip pers. I don't ship any one, "The skippers, said the other; "why, they'd laugh at me. I don't believe they d have me for ballast. Yet they'd have fiven something for a nod from me once, had no need then to come like a beggar to the Fleet— not I. You know that, Hur ley." For the first time Genth looked up. His pen dropped from his fingers and made a great blot on the neatly ruled page. "Tom Harrington!" he exclaimed. "All that's left of him," said the arrival with a smile that seemed to court some sort of praise for the remains; "rather shady, down at the heel, pockets empty, shorn of his splendor, but Tom Harrington still." Genth surmised as much. Tom Harring ton was the son of a Herringbourne solici tor. The old lawyer had worked hard to .«ave money ; his son, to spend it. In three or four years Tom Harrington had apent the accumulations of thirty or forty. Yet he had been more fortunate than Genth Hurley, for he had won from Genth the woman he loved. As Genth looked at Harrington the change in the latter startled him. There still existed the cut of the man, trimness, janntiness. His hands were still small and white, his face handsome. But the fire in the shifty blue eyes burned low; they were encircled by dark, hollow rims, and the full, red lips were a shade blue and tremulous. He was Genth's age, but looked older. He had lost a lot of health in the shearing process. "I was told," said Hurley, "you were goiag the pace, but I never thought it was so bad as this. I'm sorry — " "Don't— don't preach; I get enough of that at home." Genth's dark eyes unconsciously hard ened. "How were you brought to this?" he asked. "C's and B's — cards and billiards— and, incidentally, B's and S's. In my time I have backed many horses. If they'd won I shouldn't have been here. Understand, I'm not tho only one — plenty have been broke besides me. In gentlemanly games, too. All of us love sport. It is the back bone of England. I can't see it's my fault; it's the old man's." Genth looked at him inquiringly. '•If the old man didn't mean me to be a gentleman, why did he make a gentleman of me? Why did he send me to a tip-top school, give me first-class ideas and then die and not leave me enough money to de velop these first-class ideas? That puz zles me. Now, if I hadn't been a soft fool; if I had married a woman who had got a bit"— Genth's eyes grew harder. He picked up his pen and slowly drew a piece of blocting paper over the ink blot. "How is your wife?" he asked abruptly. "Oh, Nell is all right. She takes a bit of dressmaking and millinery. She was al ways a handy girl with her fingers, But somehow trade nas fallen off with her; so I'm forced to do something. Oh, you needn't look at me like that. I have tried before. I tried once for a place as billiard marker, but some other fellow got there before me and I had all the trouble for nothing. But when it comes to your last loaf—" "My good — " "It's time to wake up; so I thought of the Fleet. When there is nothing else do ing every one thinks of the Fleet; and if you have a berth ready for me to jump into, why, I'm your man."* He had suddenly set more than a ballast value on himself. It showed that Harrington was still mercu rial. "Well," said. Genth, "a vessel came in this afternoon, the Comet. One of the men, a deckhand, was injured by the boom. You can go in her if you like." Harrington looked by no means elated. It was evident that one of the last things he expected was to be taken at his word. He had hoped for something better, an easier job, perhaps a loan. "I'm sure, he said, "I don't know whether I'm strong enough. I could try it." "You could," said Genth, grimly. "If you give this note to John Holmes, the skipper of the Comet, he'll take you." "Thankee," said Harrington, but by no means gracefully. Then lie stood a mo ment, fidgeted and coughed. "Yes," said Genth, who easily read these tokens, "I'll advance you a month's pay. Here is half; the rest I'll send to your wife. If she wants more while you are at sea she shall have it." "Why can't I take the lot?" asked Har rington querulously. "Can't you trust me?" "I'm afraid not." "Good afternoon," said the budding smacksman, and he turned on his heel. "Stop a minute." said Genth. "Take the money. I thought you might be tempted. And now listen. Tom. If you do go I wish you luck. Make one trip and directly your foot again touches Herring bourne quay I will rind you something better. Here is my hand on it." The angry flush on Harrington's face died away, the shifty look in his eyes van ished, and his form suddenly straightened, for a time only. Then the old expression came back, his shoulders drooped, and, muttering something, he shambled out. When he was gone Genth restlessly paced the office. His successful rival had come to this. He thought of a little house on the hill and a garden overlooking the sea, where old Ned Hall, the retired master of the floating light, had eked out his pension and his life ; and sweet Nelly Hall of the laughing blue eyes and chestnut hair. Were those eyes now dim, the cheeks care worn, the hngers — ? With a sigh he dosed his books, put the key in the office door, and, paler than usual," stepped out upon the pavement. Contrary to Genth Hurley's expectations Tom Harrington took the berth offered him. A week after the interview in the office he sailed in the Comet for the fishing grounds of the North Sea. Eight weeks, long and dreary to those at sea, soon pass ashore. To Genth, in the office, time flew. The morning the Comet was due again found him nervously pacing the quay. He had found a desk for him in the office, and under his own eye Harrington should com mence the new life. Though Genth's mind was busy his eves kept straying down the harbor; and at last he heard the pant, pant of a tue and saw her red-banded fun nel passing the lower ferry. Astern was a dandy-rigged trawler. Scores of smacks and luggers were already moored at the quayside, and what "with scandal ized sails, masts, shrouds and dangling halliards it was a minute or two before he could make her out. When the Buake like coil of the tow-rope was cast off and the tug sheered out, Genth saw the new comer was the Comet. He made a step forward, then stopped as if he had been shot. His eyes were glued to her rigging. She was flying her flag half-mast high ! It was not the first time Genth had beheld that ominous sign, but now it turned him faint. In his mind ran one thought — sup pose it was flying for Tom Harrington! He stood for a minute fascinated, then walked gloomily back to the office. He sat there with his face buried in his hands, when the opening of the door, the sound of sea boots, and the voice of Holmes, aroused him. "I ken see, owner," he said, "you ha' been on the quay." ""Tell me," said Genth with dry lips, "whom have you lost?" The skipper of tlio <'p:uet passed a large hand through his uakum-tt-xtured hair. "Well, owner," he said slowly, "I'll speak the truth. Twor this way: The wind were east — " "In God's name!" cried Genth, "who is it?" *• "To sail straight to the pint, owner, 'tis the new deck chap." Genth looked at him helplessly. Har rington! He had made all his little plans and a greater hand than his had swept them away. "When did this take place?" he asked. "The night afore last. We wor a-comin' home," said Holmes, directing his gaze to a nautical almanac and telling his tale to it as it hung on a nail, "wi' the wind east nor'east; I had jest fixed the port an' star board lights an' wos taking a spell at the tiller. All of a suddent I sees a great green sea a-comin', which I knew we'd ship, an' I Ming out to the chaps to keep below. Just as the words passed my lips sume one popped out o' the hoodway (companion). The sea an' him must ha' touched the Com et's deck at the same time, an' afore I could clutch him he wos swept over the starboard rail. I hulled a belt at him an' put the til ler up. A'most as sunc as we gat about, our boat was launched, an' the chaps were in her. They pulled like madmen • but you know, owner, how fast a drowndin' man drifts to wind'ard. They conld never git nigh him; an' when I picked the crew o 1 the boat up they wor done for. They couldn't ha' pulled, another stroke for the Indies. An' the deck chap wos gone. All we picked up wos Jhis. He held up a soiled sou'wester. "You must report it," said Genth, heav ilp — "it's all you can do now." Holmes nodded and slouched away. When he was gone Genth went to his desk and drew from it a sheet of note paper. On it was written the number of a "row." "And I must break the news," he said. On a bleak January afternoon, two years .later, a man came through the tollgate. To save a mile or so, he had reached Herring bourne by a cheerless, treeless cut called the New Road. He was thin and bearded. His clothes were shabby and his steps un certain. As he tendered the halt-penny toll his fingers burned like fire. The suu went down as he came through the gate, and the traveler shivered. An easterly wind was blowing. It lay in wait for him as he rounded a corner and a roaring gust brought j him up gasping for breath, But still he wearily plodded on. At last he stopped before a "row," went up it, and then stopped again in front of a house with the shutters closed. On them was chalked — "To Let." In a dazed sort of way he looked at the letters, then made his way to the quay. Here he halted at the office of Hurley's Fleet. With a trembling hand he tried the door. It was locked. Then, in deed, he seemed to lose heart, and sat a moment on the doorstep. He was looking at the black bough of a tree that flapped noisily against a lighted lamp, when a smacksman came past. The weary object stopped him and asked where Hurley lived. He was told; and with a sigh went on again, this time toward the Drive. The sky grew darker, and it began to snow, first in light flakes, that he feebly tried to brush away, then faster. Soon* he heard the roar of the angry sea and saw the flaming eye of the Floating Light as it rocked inside the Scroby. Here the wind blew fiercer; it gathered the white flakes together and hurled them into his face till they blinded him. Staggering, clutching at iron rails and turning nis face to them when the strong gusts swept off the sea, he went till he reached the gate of a house where the blinds were parted and the room illuminated by gasjets and a merry, leaping fire. By that fire a man sat reading. It was Genth Hurley. The stranger outside opened the gate, the wind drove him up te the door, and he pulled the bell. It was answered by a servant, who gazed at him curiously. He asked if he could see the smack-owner. "Of course you can," she said, sharply. "But shake some of that snow off !" f He tried, but his lingers seemed numb. She impatiently beckoned him in and left him on the mat while she informed her master a man wanted him. Before she could speak the visitor had stolen up be hind. As she drew back he and Genth came face to face. The attitude of the shabby figure was humble and his knees shook. "Come in," cried Genth, cheerily — "come in. my man. You wanted to see me?" In a hesitating way the other stepped forward; particles of snow had melteu on his beard and hung in glistening drops. "Don't you know me, Hurley?'' he asked, ixx a trembling tone. "I wonder if Nell will know me? I'm Tom Harring ton." h With a strange gurgling cry Gentb ell . back and clutched at the mantelpiece. He ] seemed turned to stone. The visitor looked wistfully at the bright tire and caressed '■ his thin hands as if he were warming them. ; "No, no!" gasped Genth hoarsely, "not! him!— not Tom Harrington! He was i drowned at sea." "Not drowned," said the other, and his I voice sounded so gentle, so unlike the Har- j rington of old, that there was plenty of room for mistaking his identity ; "but picked up by. a schooner when he had lost all hope. I was carried to a strange place, and I had the fever." He drew a little nearer the fire and put his hand on the back ! of a chair, then with a smile he looked at j Genth. Hurley's face wore an awful frozen look. He appeared cowering back. "I'm very tired, said the wanderer fee bly. "May I sit down? I have been to : some strange places, but I'm home now, ! and want to find Nell. I have been to the j old house, but she was not there. But J vcm'll help me to find her, won't you? You'll tell me where she is?" His voice was eager, and again he looked i at Genth. The door of the room was only j partly dosed, and through it there came a ; iaintcrv; then a soothing sound ; then a I cry louder than the first. The rescued man ■ pricked his ears. "A baby !" he said. "So you are married. Perhaps— perhaps," he added, timidly, "you don't want me here. I had better ! go. I had no right to come ; but I thought you could tell me where Nell was." He ! gazed again at the fire, and his shabby j fingers strayed over the buttons of his threadbare coat. With an effort he stag gered up. It was only Genth's lips that moved. "Yes, yes'," he said in a hollow tone, "go! And in the name of God go quick! To-morrow — I'll see you to-morrow.' A gust of wind drove the snow against I the window. Before the fleeting patterns of the flakes were off the glass another gust made them afresh. Harrington shiv ered. "It's very cold," be said, "but I'll walk quick, and you'll tell me where to find Nell?" As he put the question there sounded a rippling laugh; then the joyous snatch of i a song, as some one tripped down the stairs. The wanderer's face grew bright. | He held up his hands. "Listen!" he j cried breathlessly. "There is Nell's voice! j My Nell! That's the song she used to sing long ago ! Why, she is here. Hurley — J she is — " He turned wonderingly to I Gents. The smack-owner's jaw had fallen, his teeth were chattering, and, tretobling j in every limb, he barely held up by the .i mantelpiece. A puzzled look stole over Harrington's face. It cleared, and he, too, began to tremble. "Your wife!" he whispered. "You have married her! You thought me | dead ! lam going— l am going !' ' He put his hand out to feel -for the door. ! He was trying to find the handle when it j swung open and Nell stood on the | threshold. He gave a low sob, and with bent head tried to pass her. She tried to see his face. "I am going, Nell," he mumbled — "I am j •f NEW TO-DAY. ''...'/ LIKE A MIRACLE. A Grateful Patient Who Will Recommend the Hudson Medical Institute to His Friends. Mr. Samuel Brown Allen Only Too Gladly Sends His Testimony. . . Zacatecas, Mexico. Nov. 7, '94. through the mall. I must also say thanks to the Hudson Medical Institute— Gentlemen: After Han Francisco Chronicle, who sent the advertise- I received the medicine which was sent to me ment of the -HUDSON MEDICAL INSTITUTE through mv order by Wells, Fargo * Co.'s Express !in one of pages, so that ail suffering humanity turougn my order i>y wells, ± argo « co. s Express may moat tTUIy Bad out wbere t0 cure tneir many In September last, I started taking said treatment ■ sufferings. In short, I must say that for me the on the 7th of October up to this date, and the mcd- HUDSON MEDICAL INSTITUTE has done icine is just finished. I must herein inform you .wonders, and lam willing to answer any questions quantity of medicine it seems like a great miracle. don £ for mP , while I have the honor to remain, and I cannot do otherwise than give my testimony i gentlemen, very respectfully, your obedient serv- about your treatment. To begin with, I must say ant, [Signed] . SAMUEL BROWN ALLEN, that lor over four years I have been suffering Zacatecas. Mexico. , from disgusting feelings at night, my sleep always p. S.— Now all of the above feelings which I had being distressing. In the morning I always felt as j before are all gone and lam a new man. I shall tired as if I had been working all night and always not need any more of your medicine for the future, had some depressing dreams. My appetite | I shall recommend the Hudson Medical Institute was very poor. I could not eat a com- jto all whom I know suffer so that they may cure forwble meal without taking . two or three ! themselves. - S. B. A. strong drinks of Mexican tequila. and j regularly when I finished eating my meal there | It Is now a matter of common notoriety that the was a sickening of the stomach and then I had to Hudson Medical Institute is doing more good for throw up all that I had eaten. If I aid not throw I those who are really sick than any institution of; up, it was because I bad a cigar or a couple of clg- j its nature on the continent, and it is proverbial arettcs, then and there, as soon a3 I stopped eating, that "if yon can be cured at all you can be cured I also used to have a kind of dizzy spell and had to j at that institution QUITE QUICKLY, QUIETLY, sit down to Drevent from falling. My sight was j SAFE SCIENTIFICALLY AND SATISFAC- very dim or dark, and I could not make out a small . TOKILY." . •,-■,;,-. i; : r <: -; object at two hundred or three . hundred yards dls- • The Hudson Medical Institute now occupies that tsnee. . I couKl only see the shape as It moved, but large white structure at, the junction of Stockton, ' could not tell whether it was a man or a woman. Market and Ellis streets, San Francisco, Cal. '. ' I also used to have spells of : headache; and there ' . - . . . has always been nervousness throughout my _, . ' whole frame, especially my legs and arms.; I could ' Circulars - and testimonials of cures not lift half .the weight I was once able to; and my effected sent free. ■■■■'"■ .' ■ -•■ tongue was a regular, mass of whiteness and noth- ■ ; - • : . ■■•> : ■ -■ ■ ing tasted good. > ; ' , . : But, gentlemen, since I commenced taking your HliflKflN MFfilHlll TIiTF treatment I commenced to reel a great change. I IIUUUUII .*< IiILUiUf IL Hit) 1 1 1 UI L, had nervous debility, biliousness, and my. general Htnclttni. i\ro»i,.» »n«l viu. St. paln3 were ' rheumatic pains. I . must say your Stockton, Market ana tills Sts. treatment drives all such pains away, and lam ••' ■ : ?3&B£EP&&TZ~ rr ~ ■ '■ • .!• now enjoying a different ' life and : feelings. -: lam ■ JOB^T; • Send for Professor J.JL. Hudson's making new flesh, creating " more blood < and celebrated lecture on the f Errors of Youth strength and more weight. I can see- pretty and Lost Manhood." It will cost you noth- , clearly, sleep as a buck, wnke up in the morning inn ' - " \ at present as a man who has been on a long jour- "' ■ . • ■ • '■' ney and, after a good night's rest, feels refreshed in I'■ V i.if tiio TncMintu wiifn yon run All mtt.ni. IVift mrtrnintr n*Kan I „.,(.,. 4 t.i! A ,. n i % .. t l. A .* A *»* V ISIC mC inStUUtC \MieH JOU CUD. All patients hpln m n anrl-hViS t oouldw^h'.n'reiv'i « wa In private consulting rooms. Out ■of town wufd 2at?tSt I ,m ™», «^mrS^Srt i^^-p tv/ Patients can learn all about their cases if they send couia say tnat 1 am greatly- improved In weight; f nP «vmntnm wantii ah lptten «r« strictiv mnfi > I must say in these lines that the HUDSON Of individuals cured. ; ...,... MEDICAL INSTITUTE has done for me what I - CSJ*" ' Office hours: 9 A.M. to 8 P.M. did not believe could nave been done for mo Sundays If to i.V*. t ■'■ f\ foing." He was quite helpless now, and linded by tears. At the sound of his voice, at the sight of the shaky figure grown suddenly old, some memory stirred her, and she clutched. him by the arm. He lifted his head; their eyes met, and with a wild scream she sank to the floor. An hour later a doctor came. He looked at Harrington, .who had been put to bed, and shook his' head. "I'm no use," he said. "Cold, exposure, a debilitated con stitution. The man hass been dying for weeks. He may last the night out; I doubt it." The doctor was right. Harrington grad ually grew weaker and weaker. His brain wandered to strange scenes, the River Plata, Costa Eica; then home and Nell. Wh.n his mind partially cleared she was bending over him and Genth sat holding his hand. Like a child he put up his face and she kissed him. He looked, smiling, at Genth, then his head fell back on the pillow. "I am going," he said softly — "I am going." There was a faint flutter of breath and his eyes closed. The deckhand had gone.— Charles King in Chambers' Journal. A Kicycle Highway. Benton Harbor will be the first city in the United States to build along one of its public streets a track for the exclusive use of bicycles, says a dispatch in the Detroit Free Press. Plans are now complete for the way along Territorial street, and to morrow morning graders will be set to work to carry out the design. It is pro posed to construct the track 6 feet wide along the side of the adjoining street, and on a grade even with the sidewalk, leaving the shade trees to mark the line between the path for pedestrians and that for the wheel riders. The gutter will be recon structed along the side of the bicycle track, and the outer edge of the latter will be de fined and protected by posts placed at in tervals, which can be utilized as hitching posts. The path will be made of earth with hard clay surface. About one mile of the track will be built now as an experi ment. If it proves satisfactory, tracks on the principal streets along the town will be made. • A Serious Subject. She (sentimentally) — There is always an element of sadness and solemnity in a wedding. \ He, (cheerfully)— Oh, yes; but I don't care so long as it's somebody else's wed ding. An advertisement in a Xew York daily I stated that "a one-legged man would learn of something to his advuntage" by callina |at a certain address. A curious individual ! called and met the advertiser, a man who ' had lost his right lee. He aaid: "If I car* ■ find a man who has lost the other leg and wears the same size shoe that I do, we caa | whack up, and by buying our shoes to -1 gether we would save considerable." In Boston on St. Patrick's day twelve parading members of the Sarsiield Guard* carried rifles in violation of the law, an<s Captain J. A. Murphy .submitted by ar rangement to arrest with a view of testing the law. It is proposed to get an authori tative decision as to the constitutionality of the act of 1893 which forbids private organizations to parade in public with fire arms. 15