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THE FREE PRESS.
GRANGE VILLE, IDAHO. A Thrifty Beau. A young man, evidently from a part of the »untry where the shriek of the railroad en gine has never been heard, called on the county clerk the other day, and in a business like way asked : "Fell any yit?" "What?" "Marriage license fell any yit?" "No, same price. " "Well, I come in the other day* an' er feller told mo they mout fall airter county court met." "No, they are the same price." "I'm mighty sorry iav that, fur I've been engaged to a gal fur about two year. I loves her might'ly, an' she says that she ain't goin' to wait on me no longer, but I wouldn't give $3 fur no set uv license that wuz ever writ out. It's mighty hard to give her up, but I reckon I'll hnve to let her slide." "Look here," said the clerk. "Tell you wliat I'll do with you. I'll pay for your license." "Much obleegcil, rap'n. Jis write 'em out an' I'll go down un' break the good news to Hasan. It'll tickle her mighty nigh to death when she hears uv my good luck." The license was Issued, and the young fel low hurried to the wagon yard where Susan was stopping, and conducted her to the ollico of a justice of the lienee. "Cap'n, whut'U you charge to marry us?" Tho magistrate told him, and shaking his head he mumbled: "Kain't erford to pay that much these hard tlmos." "Nobody will perform the ceremony any cheaper." "Wall, thon, Susan, you'd better go back to tho wagon yard, while I go roun' an' see ef I can sell tho licenso to some other feller. I liuto to give you up, Hue, but I reckon you'd bettor marry Bill. He's er reckless sort uv feller, an' don't mind 'stravigance. "—Arktm saw Traveler. Telegraphing a Headless Man. W. J. Stillman is an American, and lias neon -war corresi<ondont for Tho London Times in every important Euriqicaii scrim mage of late years. While he was in the in terior of Greece during some trouble there tho report came to London that his head hail been taken off. Tho rumor raised great ex citement in London, and the government of the day was questioned aliout it in parliament. Tho Times telegraphed to the prime minister of Greece, but the rumor could neither lie confirmed nor contradicted. One of Still man's friends telegraphed to Stillman himself, saying; "Humor here that your head lias beim taken off. Is it true?" It was not till after the message had lieen |iaitl for and sent that it struck the sender that if tho rumor was true Stillman would be the last man in tho world to admit it. Demi men send no tel egraphic messages. However, the first news of Stillman 's safety came in answer to that message. Tho dispatch from Greece read: "My dear hoy, a newspaper man never loses his head."—Detroit Free Press. Optical Weather ltepnrt. CAI.M. DELIGHTFUL. A. jThf y UNCERTAIN. STORM V. % n v' CLOunv. PLEASANT. —The Judge. Biographical Note». A better man than president—Wright. A noisy fellow, but prompt in making Ills reports—Buchanan. He held the fort—Garrison Active in pursuit of a foe—Chase. A true man ut bottom—Welles Was always ready to enlarge the sphere of his observations—Seymour. Hinting at ivhat an ex-offleial would like to do with regard to iiolitical otllce—Fillmore. Tho weight of his opinions were fully testest —Ben Warle. In demand at dinner parties—Butler. A politician of large experience In making "deals"—Scbenck. He stuck to his friends, was "nuts" to the enemy, but could not be easily handled with out gloves—Burr. Au English name, proving there is more than two kites to a cherry—Pitt. A slippery fellow—Peel.—Life. Provided They Got Up Safely. Some years ago a party of Cambridge phil osophera undertook, for a scientific object, to penetrate into the vasty depths of a Cornish mine. Professor Farnsh, who made one of the number, used,to relate with infinite gusto the following startling incident of his visit: On his ascent in the ordinary manner, by means of a bucket, and with a miner for a fellow ] lassen per, tie perceived, as he thought, certain u; .mistakable symptoms of frailty in the rope. "How often do you change youf ropes, my good man?" he inquired, when aliout half way up Irom the Lit tom of the awful abyss. "We change them every three months, sir," replied the man in the bucket; "and we shall change this one to-morrow, if we get up safe."—Philadelphia Call Obituary. Tho following poor; appears in the obituary columns of a Baltimore news|iapcr, under the death notice of a husband and father; He heard the angels calling him From that celestial shore ; He flopped his wings, and away he went To make one angel more. —By nis Son. A STRAY EPITAPH. Here does the body of Mary Anne rest, With her head on Abrahflm's breast. It's u very good thing for Mary Anne, Lut it's very hard lines in Abraham. —Harpers' Monthly. The rower of the 1'rew. Spriggins—You areasociety reporter, aren't you? Pennibs—I have that inexpressible felicity. Spriggins—You write up the fashions, don't you? Pennt!« —That is one of my numerous func tions. Spriggins—Well, how much will you charge me for a paragraph stating that a plain gold bond is now the proper thing for an engage ment ring? I have to buy one for Mamie to morrow, and if I could show her such a jiara . graph, it would be $100 in my pocket.—Ram hier. ( KISSES. I strove to make a desert of thy mouth. To gather all Its treasure In an hour; But laughing Love forbade the cruel drouth And kisses fathered kisses, aa a flower Half thirsty, when the summer shower la done, 1 Sighs faintly in expanding; so thy llpa Grew sighing up to mine. And as the sun With ardent ray the Jewelled nectar So drank I of their beauty, till my soul, Quickened with glad desire, as buds in May Burst into bloom. And we together stole The conscience from the hours till all the day j Was one long kiss; and the dark, jealous Prof. Adolf Seeman, the son of the late Baron Seeman, the conjurer, and himself a magician of no small note, is in the city. Among the property inherited by him from his father is a curious gold ring which he constantly wears upon hiB fin- , ger. It was purchased by the late baron many years ago in Sweden at the sale of : the household and personal effects of an old countess who lived with a female ser- j vaut alone in her castle. She had no rel fttives, anil no one save these two women had ever entered the castle within the ! memory of the oldest inhabitant. The ! ring eventually passed into the hands of young Seeman, who remained in igno rance of its origin or value until about a year ago. While in Texas at that time he received a copy of The Gartenblaube, the German monthly, which contained a wood cut of his ring, the original of which, the paper said, was in the posses sion of a Germun couutesss. It was spoken of as the wedding ring of Martin Luther, anil the article remarked that the great reformer had had two rings, duplicates of each other, made for his wedding. One of these he gave to his wife and the other he wore himself. "Where," asked the pa per, "1 b the second ring?" Overjoyed at the news Seeman wrote to Germany and was immediately offered a large sum of money for his treasure, which, however, he determined to keep. The ring in question is curious enough to attract attention anywhere. It is fully half un inch wide at the 'od, and much wider than the ordinary ring at the hot tom. A fine ruby surmounts the crests and divides the designs. The ring is pierced by interstices which divide the various emblems upon it. One side of the ruby thus outlined is a perfect représenta tion of the crucifixion. On the left of the cross is a scourge; on the right the head of a Roman soldier. On each side of these designs, forming the outer edges, are two spears. Below the cross are the three nails which were driven into the Lord, and below these are the three dice with which the lots were cast for iiis clothing, aud above the head of the Savior, plainly visible, is the inscription: "I. N. R. L" On the other side of the ruby is the reprosen tation of a pillar from the temple, the lad der which was placed against the cross, the rope with which He was bound, a sword and the hammer with which the nails were driven in. All these designs are perfectly visible to the naked eye, and are executed with wonderful delicacy and natural effect. There Is no doubt of the genuiness of the ring, and I'rofessor See man certainly has a valuable and inter esting relic of the great reformer.—Chi cago News. j ■ Scarcity of Labor In Brazil. Beyond the abolition of slavery looms up in Brazil the question of labor. There can be hut one solution of the problem, and that Is immigration. How to attract this is now absorbing the minds of the I statesmen. The labor of the liberated sluves and their descendants will never be sufficient for the needs of the country, They are by nature the most lazy and worthless laborers in the world, and have a disposition to leave the plantations and flock to the cities of the sea coast. There they just work enough to keep them selves alive, and as long as they can get raw farina anil casasch are happy. One great drawback to immigration to Brazil is the had reputation for health which the country has in Europe. The northern seaport towns are undoubtedly unhealthy, but in tlie south of the empire and in the interior the climate is as i sips, night Prophetic of another day's delight. —Rev. Waldo Messaros. One of Martin Luther*» Hing». healthful as could bo wished. Still, the horror with which yellow fever is re garded and the difficulty of making im migrants understand the vast size of the empire and its consequent variety of cli mates, render the work of attracting them more difficult owe their great prosperity to the con stant tide of immigration which is flow ing to their shores, and the Brazilians claim that Argentine agents abroad omit no opportunity or scruple at no means to divert immigrants from Rio to Buenos Ayres.—New York Tribune. The Argentines Military Men at Hotel». We have a good many military men among our transient guests who register with the military titles before their names, such as "Col. John Smith, other guests frequently ridicule the prac tice when they see the names so signed. A general idea seems to prevail that any man who puts "Col." before his name is either vain or foolish, and most people at once conclude that one who writes his name that way is an "Arkansas colonel" who never saw a battle in his life and never even belonged to a regiment. Dili cers frequently write "U. S. A." after their names, but nobody finds fault with that. It is a great convenience, for there are several army men who come regularly and look over the register for brother offi cers, and when they find them they at once take it upon themselves to show them all possible attention. But "U. S. A." might properly be written after the name of a private, and that seems to be insufficient also. The best to sign would probably be the official style: "John Smith, Col. U. S. A."—Hotel Clerk in Glolie- De moc rat. and if Envy of the Dyspeptic. The other day a little colored boy stopped in front of a grocery, and, after wistfully eyeing a pyramid of sardine boxes, marked "only 8 cent*," invested in a box. Going to the edge of the pavement, lie opened the box and ate the sardines fast as he could cram them into his mouth and then drank the oil remaining in the box. This did not satisfy him and he invested in another box of sardi gulping them down with a gusto, lie purchased a huge cucumber pickle, which he ate heartily, aad to crown it all he bought a pint of peanuts and ate th for dessert. A gentleman who stood near watching the hoy taking in food said "Great Scott, if I had a stomach like that 1 would give »1.00C."— Chicago Herald. li ties, Then em ( THE "HERR BARl'.'i.'' A city like New York may well b termed the camera-obscura of the world, Each nationality forming a part of our heterogeneous population represents a lit la tie world by itself, obeying its own soclai 1 laws and customs, and jealously main ing all Its peculiarities. Of these nation alties by far the most numerous, best or ganized and most firmly combined by common interests, recollections, tastes, and ways of life, is the German. Slatis tics prove New York to be the third of the in great German cities of the world; and as everybody knows, there are whole dis trlcts in the city in which a knowledge of the German language Is much more necei j sary than of the English. The character lBtic feature of these districts is undoubt edly the beer "saloons," which are as tlio stars in heaven. These establishments scarcely ougtit to be designated by a name which In France is associated with re membrances of powdered wigs, hoops, and Madame de Sevigne, while in America 11 is suggestive of cocktails, stale tobacco smoke and spittoons. On entering one of by the popular German beer-houses you im mediately become aware of the fact that , you are in a wirthschaft, and not in a sa loon. of : One night In passing through one of the quiet streets which run from Second to j Third avenue, and which some ten years "(to still enjoyed the reputation of being U P town, one particular wirthschaft, ! which I had not happened to notice before, ! attracted my attention from its peculiarly of snug look. The narrow entrancu was half concealed by the thick foliage of a creep a it'K vine, from behind whicli a lantern, he with the inscription, "H. Gorr—Wirths chaft," was barely visible. A small white a sign above the door exhibited the word of "Sommergarten." From inside, u female voice was heard singing an old German song, accompanied by u piano. Neither the singer nor the instrument seemed to very much out of tune. j of All this had a promising look, so 1 stepped into the establishment. The bar room and the restaurant were deserted, An open door led out Into the hack yard, at whicli had been converted into a summer Karden, or rather into a bower of ivy and of other creepers. Every available place in j the "garden" was filled with small round tables, and every chair at these tables seemed at present to have already its oc cupant. On my entering, however, a! fleet-footed waiter came flying towar ' rue anil directed me to a small table, situ "ted behind the piano, which had hitherto is pusseil unobserved by the other guests, I 8at down, and was just about to give m y order when the meager form of the waiter who had welcomed me was sud ^euly thrust aside by a superior force, and in his stead appeared a portly, sol eurn-looking man, clad with the most cor rect antl irreproachable elegance, dress coat, white waistcoat, white necktie, a , *V )l£ * n wound round his right, hand—in a word, a model of a waiter such os any first class cafe from Oelnionico's to Big non ' s , might have been proud of. "You can go, Franz," this majestic man 8aid 10 the other waiter in a mellow, sonorous voice; "I will serve this gentle man myself." a The combination of condescending cl vility and self-importance he coutriveil to throw into this one word "myself" was overwhelming. In the presence of this majestic official my original intention ot ordering modestly "one lager" melted away like wax. I felt it would be almost a sacrilege to ask for so litttle of so great a being—it would be like asking Jupiter j lor one of his thunderbolts to light a ei ■ garette! 1 muttered bashfully, "A pint bottle of Rhine wine, if you please." The Kreat man bowed and moved away 148 majestically as he hail come. He had Scarcely disappeared within the restaur ant - w * len a strange self-consciousness I crept upon me of having seen him some where before in very different circum stances, where and when it was impos sible for me to recollect. other, by a mysterious' association of ideas, pictures of a time long past, of bjt ter and merrier days, arose in to lae Kreat. Babylon of Europe. Hail I seen ^ bat man at some cafe in Paris? No, it was not tb at. I could not have remem bL ' ret * five long and eventful years as i sucb a trifling circumstance. All of a Htidden a name flashed upon me, Waldheim—Count von Waldheim— was the man this waiter reminded me of, and to whom he bore a most striking semblance. Poor Waldheim, he of the maddest vivuers of Parisl As open handed and generous as he was reckless always in good spirits, he was the uui uersal favorite of that tout Paris whose center is the Boulevard des Italiens. How well 1 remember the last the poor fellow gave us in the room of the Cafe Anglais! There not more than a dozen of us—three or number who, by virtue of their beauty and their diamonds, were the leading "stars" in that strange hemisphere. I do believe that was the merriest night I ever passed in my life. A sort of frenzy of childish lightheartedness seemed to have seized on all the guests at that "funeral banquet," as Waldheim called it. So uproarious were we in our merriment that about 3 o'clock in the morning a sergeant de ville sent up of the waiters to request us either to shut the window or make less were disturbing the neighborhood, daybreak Waldheim sprang up from his seat, filled his glass for the last time, and, opening the balcony door, pointed to the boulevards stretching quiet and deserted at our feet in the dim, gray light of duwn. a Somehow or my meni I saw again the boulevards of Paris, with all their bustle at the hour when the theatres close. I felt once more about me that atmosphere of feverish excite ment, of restless life, which surrounds re was one supper corner were four ladies in the is at one noise, as we At "My last toast, ladies and gentlemen," he exclaimed, "Is to this great living ster of Pans, whicli has devoured me and so many other! For thee, in thy enchant ing embrace, I have lost all I possessed in the world, well! mon I beggar now, I bid thee fare Moriturus, Caesar, te saluto!" He emptied his glass and threw it out of the window on the pavement below. Then he took leave of ing us promise not to and not to search for him during at least three days, and was about to ouit the room, when Valentine Ghemar, c;._ of the tallies present, a well-known oper etta singer of the time, sprang up, and flinging her arms impetuously around IV aldheim's neck, exclaimed: "You are a man, a brave man, and J love you! Wherever you go, let with you!" * My dear little Valentine," answered VV aldheim with a sad smile, "no romance if you please! The times of love in a cot tage are passed. Here in Paris, if the cot Lige took the shape of a little hotel in the Champs Elysees, it might all be very well. But where I am now going tliing< win look different; it will be uphill work a us, mak follow him one me go fierce battle with want and deatn, and not a life yon, a delicate hot house flower, nught share with me. No, no; let me go," oe said, gently disengaging himself from her embrace. "Farewell, and be happy, all of you!" With these words he disappeared, leav ing us all moved to the heart, and poor Valentine Bobbing disconsolately. In Paris everybody still remembers the dreadful scandal Count Waldhiem's sud den disappearance occasioned. The scan- j dal wat, perhaps, the greater because the count had left no debts -unpaid. Su: h conduct society judged to be preposter ous, incomprehensible. What business has a man to run away after paying all his debts, when by pay-, ing half of them and cheating his credit ors out of the rest, he could have gone on [ living like a gentleman? Two days later the scandal-mongers had a new and still more sensational topic to comment upon —Velentine Gheinar had broken all her engagements and quitted Paris the same night. All the newspapers were full of romantic stories about this double disap pearance, till at last an enterprising re porter of The Figaro succeeded in useer taining that Count Waldheim had sailed from Havre to New Y'ork, and that Val entlne Ghemar had been on board the same vessel. Since then nobody had ever beard from either of the fugitives; the huge waves of Parisian life closed over them, and in a month both were forgot Presently this personage returned, bear ln K tbe bottle of wine I had ordered, neat Iy wrapped up in a napkin. VV Idle lie wns uncorking it, an elderly gentleman, apparently an habitue of the place, en j ter , the Karden, and passing by the 1 wniter, tapped him familiarly on the shoulder, say.ng: "How do you do to night, Herr Baron?" * started involuntarily on hearing the Idle, and again looked fixedly at the man. ^' le resemblance to \\ alilUeim was per j wonderful. ' " **y l '° ,lie >' ca 'i y°u Herr Baron?" I usked, while he was filling my glass. ' ^ i® a j° ke , sir, of some of the friends a! of the house," he answered, smiling dis cretely; "they pretend that I look like a buron." a This old story was revived in my mem ory by the sight of the majestic waiter in a small New York wirthschaft. "What an extraordinary resemblance!" I thought; "could it be possible? the bare suggestion that the brilliant, dashing Count Wuldneim could have been transformed into a kellner. But I laughed at "Not like a baron," I retorted, staring him straight in the face, "but very much like a count. Did you ever hear of a Count von Waldheim?" He turned suddenly pale and his hand shook as he put the bottle down on the table. "No, sir," he answered with difficulty; "I never heard the name." His discomfiture, however, already be trayed him. So I rose, and stretching out my hand to him, said in an undertone: "Waldheim, don't you know me?" "By ail that is wonderfull" he ex claimed, "can this really be you, S-? For heaven's sake do not speak to me here! Nobody knows me. And oh that you should be the first to see me in such a plight!" "My dear friend 1" I observed, "do not let this circumstances put you out in the least. If one of us is to be pitied, it is I. I am a journalist." Waldheim laughed, and said in a more cheerful tone; "Well, I am heartily glad to see you, all the same. In half an hour we close here. Will you then wait a moment for me outside? We can huve a talk about old times." I of course assented, and an hour later we were both established in a snug corner of a Third avenue oyster saloon in com pany of a bottle of champagne to which the "Herr Baron" had insisted on treating me. "And Valentine Ghemar, where is she?" was my first question. "The papers said at the time that you had gone off to gether." "Yes—quite in spite of me, however. I had not the remotest notion of the girl's escapade until she all of a sudden ap peared on the ship when we were already out of the harbor. Poor girll she was a madcap, but a good, loving soul." "You speak of her in the past—is she dead?" "Worse," rejoined Waldheim, sorrow fully? "she is marriedl" "Married!" I echoed; "is it possiblel To whom?" "To an Alsatian named Schmittberger, a head clerk at one of the most important breweries in the city." "How very extraordinary all that sounds," I exclaimed. "But now you must make a clean breast of it, my dear fellow. Come, tell me all that has be fallen you ou our glorious soil of lib erty." Waldheim filled both our glasses, and began by reciting in a lugubrious voice: "Infandum, regina, jubes renovare do lorem I" My career so far has not been a glorions one. I have been alternately a washer in a public bath, a street cleaner, a reporter on a German paper, a 'boy' on a farm in Jersey (the people actually called 'boy,' am' gave me the romantic name of Jimmy), a tramp, a sleeper in the parks, and a car-driver. My last position that of a 'sandwich.' I trotted up and down Broadway clad as an Indian, with a great advertisement for Indian clubs on my back, and another for some 'mi raculous toothache-drops' on my breast. 1 was a combination sandwich. Two eter prising minds had united their energies in utilizing my back and front. "Once I narrowly escaped becoming a valet de chambre. That was after having passed three nights In Madison park. An adversement in the papers caught my eye of a lady wanting a man-servant of distinguished appearance in a first-class household. I called at once at the house (which was indeed set up in most elegant style) and proffered my services. The lady seemed greatly pleased with my ap pearance, and the thing was all settled between us, when she remarked: "Of course you will have to shave you» whiskers and mustache; Ills the rôle of my house.' The blood shot up Into my face at these words. All of a sudden I became painfully aware of the position I was about to accept with all the quences it involved. I declined and went back to the park. "And yet, as you see, I have not escaped my fate. Instead of serving one, I serve many. I will tell you what it Is, my dear fellow, a European aristocrat In this country Is about the most useless being who ever trod the earth, unless he Is rich. What have I ever learned that might have been of any use to me In this country? Except the art of spending money, noth ing thoroughly. The only knowledge 1 could put to profit here was that of a ser vant's or a waiter's duties, which I had formerly claimed from others. I know me was conso exactly the way 111 which a table-service must be laid out. The icing of cham pagne has uo mysteries for me. I know the names of all the dishes In the world, and of all the wines worth drinking. I speak German. French, and English, without mentioning the Russian lan guage, which was not likely to prove of great use In this line of business; with all these accomplishments, am I not a waiter bom and bred? I tell you, my friend, a j ruined nobleman coming to America is predestined to become a kellner! "Do you know what was the most hu- ! miliating and horrible sensation I ever experienced in my life? It was the first time I hèard a whistle and a 'Pst!' and realised the fact that both sounds were intended for me, and that I had to obey [ them. You may laugh at me, my dear fellow, but I tell you the idea of being whistled for like a domestic animal is anything but enjoyable so long as a man j 8 no t accustomed to it." "PoorWaldheiml" I exclaimed, laughing j n spite of myself at the serio-comic good humor with which he told me all his W oes. "But you nave not yet told me what became of Valentine in all this adyssey." | "Oh! she is a Parisian; and Parisian women uct like cats—they always full on their feet. The first weeks of her stay here all went on smoothly. When I had finally got down to my last 500 francs I gave them to the girl and said, 'My dear Valentine, the best you can do now is to return to Puris'; but she refused peremp torily, saying that she would never leave me. Yet 1 was obliged to leave her to seek for work, for I was penniless. It was then that I passed a season on the Jersey farm as 'Jimmy.' While there I received a letter from Valentine,in which, after glowing protestations of love and fidelity, she announced to me her ap proaching marriage with that man Bchmittberger, whose oiler, she said, she had accepted only for my sake! As soon as they were married, she added, she would procure me a suitable positon in the brewery, of which her bridegroom was head clerk, and then 1 could live happy forever more-"emphasizing the words with three dashes! As you may imagine, 1 respectfully declined this tempting offer, and have never seen Mrs. Schinittberger since." "Requiescat in pace!" I exclaimed, rais ing my glass. "But to return to your own affairs. Is It possible that you have got used to this business?" I a "My dear fellow, honestly and truly, yes! Behold the decay of a great charac ter. This business is nol so bad after all. ï am excellently paid, and in the two years during which 1 have worn tills mask of 'Earnest' )this is the name I bear in the profession) 1 nave saved a good deal of money." "So you are content with your lot?" I said. a "Content? no; I take things as they are, without making them worse." "Well, my dear Waldheim, 1 am heart ily glad to have met you," I aid, rising and shaking him by the hand. "1 hope to see you again soon. Now it is late, time for both of us to go to sleep." We took leave of one another like old frienils, with mutual promises to meet Some three weeks after our first meet ing, however, I was sent on newspaper business to South Carolina, and remained there over three months. When I returned the "Herr Baron" h id lett H. Gorrs's lit tie wirthschaft, and had gone—whither, no one knew. a often. I. A year passed without my hearing any thing of Waldheim. A few days ago I caught site by chance of a copy of The Saratoga Adviser, in which I noticed the announcement of the opening of a new "first class hotel" in that fashionable watering-place. After the usual flourishes of rhetoric, promising the "distinguished traveler" all the advantages of a dimin utive paradise on earth, I read the follow ing words: "The manager, M. Ernest, will devote all his energies and extensive experience in hotel business to the direction of his There was no doubt possible; this must be the "Herr Baron." I wrote to him, and received a jubilant reply; his hotel was thriving, and fast becoming one of the most fashionable haunts of the place. And thus Heinrich Kurd, Cotint von Waldheim, the brilliant Parisian viveur, son of the ex-grand marshal of the nobility of Livonia, some of whose forefathers had shed their blood in the crusades, others of whom had at one time aspired to the throne of the German empire, became the manager of a thriving hotel ut Saratoga. —From "Misfits and Remnants," Xifcknur & Co. I a 1 a I I new and vast enterprise." LockJ; Treitteil by liegt, Dr. De Benzi states, in The Rivista Clinica, that by treating patients with traumatic tetanus by means of perfect rest, he has been able to restore four out of five to health; whereas, when treated in other ways, these patients usually die in two or three days. He places the case in a special room, were absolute silence reigns. Even in the passages leading to it and in the neighboring wards care is taken to lay down carpets, so that no sound shall penetrate the tetanus ward, The door of the latter is of course well oiled, so as to open and shut noiselessly, and the patient's ears are stuffed with cot ton wool, he himself lieing strictly en joined not to make the slightest noise. He must, of course, be fed. This has generally been considered impossible, the teeth being clinched and the spasmodic contraction being increased by attempts to masticate. The obstacle may, how ever, be easily overcome by parting the Jaws and introducing liquid food through a curved sound; swallowing is accom plished without difficulty. This method of treating traumatic tetanus has been tried with success by several Italian prac titioners—Drs. Pisani, Maragliano, Hia, etc. The only disadvantage is that the affection is sometimes prolonged for two months. It seems to increase in duration as it diministies in force.— Scientific Amer ican. Dangerous at the Beach. It is a pretty story which Is being circu lated about the Ajax. One round from twp of her 38-ton guns produced such suits that it was considered prudent to order every one out of the turret before the guns were fired round was then fired, when the Admiral concluded that the guns had better not be discharged again. After this it is really of little consequence whether it lie true or not that "the A tube: wore all found to be cracked." is useless, either as a fighting machine a sea going ship. P ot some use as but, then, dredger ought to oust thousands upon thousands of pi und». London Tr 1 th. It is ns a great point of wisdom to hide ignorance as to discover ktwt ledge.— ?«ldeu. rs again. A second lt is cLar that the vessel *>! -ibly she might be a coal- hulk or a dredger; ne I her a coal-lmlk nor a u/uat as. noorourn „ I WMA 1 «Is UBatKVtR SAYS OF THEIR BEAUTY AND ATTRACTIVENESS • _ °®* Tbm Superior Elegance of American t*. die»—German Vomet a ! A greater'number of American worn are here now than I have ever seen befn" at this Athens on the Spree. It U fair?* conceded that there is more of what i called chiselled beauty in America th " In Europe. German ladies, In general ** gance of bearing and beauty and grace person, can bear no comparison to Atneri can women. The features of the latte" are finer and their heads more classic^ But here ends their triumph. Their bust ure inferior to those of the native wom»* and a certain attenuation in the whole fl D ' ure of the American women gives the id«,' of frugality and decay. What the Ameri can women want is soundness of constitn | tion. Their finely-cut faces are too often pale instead of fair, and sallow when thw should be rosy. But why are luanv cf the German women so awkward* U'hv have they such large feet, and whv k I their taste in dress not better? Beautiful complexions and full forms can notatoue for these déficiences, nor can thoroughly cultivated minds anil kind hearts, ATTRACTIVE at middle age. to In this country a woman is in the prime It of her attractiveness at 35. She fre quently remains almost stationary until I 50, or else declines gradually and grace fully, like a beautiful day melting into a lovely evening. In America 25 is the farewell line of beauty in women, beyond which comes decay. At 35 she generally looks a little worn, her flat chest symbol, izing the disappearance of vigor and vj. tality, and at 40 you see in her features quite plainly the marks of premature age. German children, especially girls, are less brought forward than American ones. In America the children, as a rule, take all their meals with their parents, and see all the company that comes to the house, consequently they are less troubled with shyness than German chU dren. A German girl of 1(5 or 17 is much less independent than an American girl of the same age. She must never go out alone nor without a chaperone or a female servant, usually known as a bonne. She must never speak to a gentleman, unless lie should be especially Introduced to lier by her parents, or with the approbation of her parents. Yet the German children are generally overindulged and spoiled by their parents. Every one in the house is expected to yield to them. They rarely reproved for crying, nor is self denial' or self-restraint seriously incul cated. Servants are reproved for not obeying them, and everything is done to induce them to fancy themselves the most important persons in the house. This mistaken system of education ren WOMEN OF GERMANT. Attract! v* Middle Age—Effect» of Diet " d Waai of ExercUi Fresh Air. el«. I are to ders them selfish, overbearing and con ceitcd. A good deal of this egotism is knocked out of them at Bchool and at col j lege, but early Impressions are never en ! tirely effaced, and the feeling remains, j only to be transferred to their own chil dren. I Why is it that the German women are ( superior in freshness of looks and dura j tion of beauty to THE DIET OF AMERICANS. their transatlantic sisters' Is the answer to be found In the j diet? I have often quietly watched the I diet of American ladies passing through j here. Hot biscuits ana tea are varied with preservos made pound for pound, J and endless varieties of cake and the inevitable pie. Pastry, which most children in this country are not allowed ' 1° touch until they get their long frocks alK i tailed coats, is in American families |the every-day food for young and old. j Tea is the grand panacea for all fatigue, * ow spirits, dampness, cold, pains in the head and in the back, and for nearly all | the ills that flesh is heir to. What mere human beauty could stand such regimen? | Want of exercise in the open air is the j S reat enemy of female beauty through j out the world. The transient beauty of | American women is no doubt in a j Kreat degree to be attributed to the ex jtreme heat and variability of the climate [ in America, which will not admit of the exercise requisite for health. The moisture with which the atmosphere here is gener of ' "üy impregnated exercises a most sooth in K influence upon the nervous system, j in America the dryness of the air keeps I t,ie people constantly strung up above the j concert pitch. There they are all the time under the influence of an artificial stimulus. They burn their candles, so to speak, at both ends. The blooming middle j age ot t,le German woman Is the grand j distinctive feature of Germany, and it is ! owin K. not to the absence of a special j diet, but simply to their inhaling a con eiderable quantity of fresh air both in summer and winter. Not that they im hibe enough. Far from it. Their sleeping arr angements and their ablutions are botb ver y imperfect. But it may be a is Question whether their negligence in these respects, though hurtful to themselves, Is uot advantageous to the ruder sex. Things are ba, i enough as they are in Germany, bu *' if G' e women "awoke and pondered the things that concerned their peace," wba * ) would become of the peace of ths men?—Berlin Cor. New York Suil High-Priced Smoking. "Did you ever smoke cigars that cost I5C apiece?" "I should say not." "Try one of these, then." The speaker was one of tho most genial brokers in Wall street. He produced a box of fine cigars, each with a neat paper band about its waist, on which glittered in letters of gold the name or my host. There was ndthing further remarkable about the cigar. It was an "Iraperialis," costing probably fli> per 100 in Havana. The special band may have ailded another $5 to that figure. "A young friend, who had recently cut quite a large figure in New York and Canada, brought me this box of cigars from Havana about a year ago," continued the broker. "I was flattered at this mark of special regard—I mean the band on the cigar. In a confiding moment, born of that feeling, he borrowed $5,000 of me. I realized my mistake a few days later, and laid aside the cigars until 1 should get back my loan. 1 have given that up now, and when I was packing up to come down here I put them into my trunk. The young man has gone to Canada. -Long Branch Cor. New York Herald. Society V». Politic». "I sat just beside Horace Greeley once at a great political meeting in New York just after the war," said Rev. Dr. Bennett, "and heard him define the difference be tween society and politics. Said lie, loo!, ing over the crowd; 'If I were to confin* the right of suffrage to only such of >o men as I would permit to marry in}' daughter there'd be a mighty few of you ever get a chance to vote.' Exchange. a