Walker Lake bulletin., November 17, 1897, Image 4

About Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926

Image provided by: University of Nevada Las Vegas University Libraries

                
THE LOST MANUSCRIPT.
“Sixthly, brethren,” said the preacher,
Then he anxiously looked 'round;
"Sixthly, sixthly,” he repeated
Tiil it seemed a mocking sound.
Fiercely did his fingers fumble
"Fifthly,” “fourthly,” "thirdly,” nil,
But his lips kept muttering “Sixthly,”
And it answered not his call.
“Sixthly, brethren, ns I mentioned-■”
Then he turned the Bible o'er;
Every hair stood up in anguish.
While his two eyes swept the floor.
Then the good old gray-haired deacon
Rose with “Parson, ef ye plense,
Sixthly’ just sailed out the winder
On the buzzuni o' the breeze.”
Then a small boy snickered gaily;
“All, that wlnd’B a beauty bright;
Thirdly,' ‘fourthly,’ both were winners,
But that ‘sixthlyV out o’ sight”
—Columbus Dispatch.
SEMPER FIDEL1S.
ONG after the speaker's
words had died away
the listening people
’ waited In hushed ex
pectancy, unwilling to
believe that he had fin
Ished, and unable to de
scend, all at once, from
the heights to which
they had been raised.
Hut the announcement
of the last hymn assured
them that the service
wns almost over, and a
little later they began to
file slowly out through the high, nar
row doors Into the (lamp Cornish air.
In almost total silence the crowd sep
arated, with the unconsciousness ot
surroundings which comes to men
when their minds have been stirred
deeply.
John Ordway nnd his wife came
from the clmpel among the last, and
walked arm In arm lo the long, low
shed, where many wagons were wait
ing; both had been strongly moved liy
the evening’s sermon, but In different
ways, Indicative, perhaps, of their
widely differing temperaments.
Ordway helped Ills wife Into the
wagon, the horses struck Into a swift
trot, and the driver leaned forward to
draw the rug more closely about his
companion, peering up Into her face
solicitously.
“A damp night!” he murmered. “Do
you feel at all cold, little girl?”
She started nervously at his voice,
aud shook her head.
“I'm quite warm enough,” she said
mechanically.
They moved swiftly past the scatter
ed houses of the village and out Into a
Btreteh of open country. Three or four
times the woman raised her head as
though about to speak, hut checked
herself with an effort.
"I have something to tell yon. John,”
she said at last. “I—I am afraid 1
ought to have told you long ago.”
Her tone was so serious that he turn
ed and looked at her with quick anx
iety.
“Are ye sure ye ought?” ho asked
gently. “Maybe there ain’t any need.”
“There Is a need,” she answered. “I
have known nil along that It would be
better to speak out, but somehow I
never felt that I could, until to-ulght.”
She paused as though to gather cour
age. “It’s about myself and Willis,”
she said. “You remember-”
Ordway bent forward suddenly with
a warning shout to the horses, aud the
wagon Jolted heavily In a deep rut.
“That’s me, all over,” he said with
a chuckle. “I took special notice of
that hole so os to skip It on the way
home, and here I am, drivln’ right Into
.t again, like an old fool. That’s what
comes of listenin’ to sermons ye can't
quite understand.”
“Won't you listen to mo, John?” his
wife asked pleadingly.
“Of course I will,” he answered.
“Only my nerves bein’ so wrought up.
I’m sort of afraid to have any big
shock conic on me sudden, ye know.”
“You make It so hard for me,” she !
said. “And I am In earnest. Oh, truly
l am In earnest.”
Her voice trembled with the warning
of tears. Ordway put his arm around
her and drew her closer to him protec
tively, ns a mother soothes a nervous, j
sleepy child.
”1 wasn’t jokin’,” lie said. “I’m al- 1
ways glad to listen to ye; only I think ■
ye’d best wait till we get home. Wt- re 1
'most there now.”
The wagon swung around n sharp
turn, nnd then, far up on the hill ahead
of them the clear-cut outline of the
farm buildings showed ngalust the
horizon. And the horses plodded on lu
silence.
“Go in by the lire,” said .John Ord
way, when at length they rattled Into
the farm yard. “It’ll take uie some time
:o tlx things up.” But when he came
oaek from the stable he found her
waiting, leaning against one of the
square posts of the |>orrh nnd looking
)ut across the darkness of the valley.
“I wanted to wait until we could go
In together,” she said. The long, low
kitchen was full of changing shadows,
which danced across the time-polished
floor and lost themselves In the corners
>f the Irregular celling, when Ordway
trossed to the huge fireplace and piled
some sticks of soft wood on the glow
ng ashes.
Then, twisting himself out of his top
.•oat aud bestowing it, together with
Ms cap, on a convenient table, he drag
red from the chimney corner a groat
old-fashioned chair and sank back lux
uriously In its capacious depths. His
wife had also removed her wraps, and
aow took her seat at the other side of
the lireplace on a low stool, drawn
hack just within the wavering bound
ary of shadow. At length she spoke,
slowly nnd with evident effort at calm
ness.
“You must try to be patient with !
me,” she sold. ‘•You’ll be astonished.
I know, and I am afraid you’ll be an
gry—nnd I eooldn’t blame you—but 1
want you to wait till—till I’ve fin
ished.”
“Arc ye quite sure ye'd better begin,
or hadn’t ye better let It go till to
morrow ?”
“No!” she said quickly. “I’ve wanted
to speak—to speak so many times, and
haven't dared to. I’ll feel a thousand
times happier when I’ve told you, no
matter what happens. Let me go on
now.”
“Maybe I know what-” he began,
but checked himself suddenly. “I’m
listenin’,” he added.
Klie hesitated as If to gain strength,
and he marked how the slender figure
quivered with the effiort of her hur
ried breathing.
"I had promised to marry Willis be
fore I knew you.” she said unsteadily.
“We quarreled about some little thing
nnd each was too proud to speak first.
Finally, he went away without seeing
me. You know how we heard that he
died in Africa. I believed It—we all
did—and I cried myself to sleep night
after night, because I hadn't acted dif
ferently. As time went on I began to
forget little by little, and after a while
It all seemed like a sort of dream; then
you came Into my life, nnd taught me
to trust you nnd turn to you for help
In everything. And, In truth, I loved
you more than you could ever under
stand.” Her voice trembled pitifully.
“You believe me, John?” she asked.
“Hay that you do believe me.”
Ordway drew Ills bauds across his
eyes with an Involuntary movement.
"I ain't never doubted It,” he answer
ed softly.
She gave a quick sigh of relief, aud
let her head sink again upon her breast
ns she spoke again.
“I was hnppy nnd contented for two
long years. It was like heaven; aud
you were happy, too, John?”
“Happy!" he said. “Ah, yes; nobody'll
ever know how much.”
“And then little Dora was born," she
wont on, “and somehow all our trouble
began right there, for It seemed ns
though her baby hands took hold of our
henrts nnd pushed them apart, a little
at first, nnd then more and more. I ac
tually thought that you didn't care
about her—I know It was wrong, but
I thought It—and I got to feeling
against you ns I would against some
one that was watching for a chance to
hurt my little one. Well, things got
worse and worse, nnd when she died I
almost believed you were to blame In
some way—I didn’t know how. Oh! It’s
awful to think nbout, but I couldn't
help feeling that way. Will you ever
forgive me for It?”
“I never laid It up against ye,” he
answered. “I reckoned It was natural,
nnd I knew ye wasn’t well; so I tried
to forget all about that part of my life,
and I done It—almost.”
She looked up at him gratefully.
“You are trying to help me,” she said.
“Not many men would do that. The
rest of my story Is harder to tell, and
harder to listen to. You remember
that Willis came back and hunted us
up. He came at the worst time for all
of us. I was set against you, nnd half
wild about baby's death, nnd reckless
to everything. He found that out, and
kept pleading with me and urging mo
to go away with him. Day after day,
wlieu you were at work, he used to
come to the house and talk to me—al
ways In the same strain. I ought to
have sent him away; but—I didn’t. His
sympathy was so ready that I didn’t
see the purpose nor the falseness of
It. It was ns though some evil spirit
put the word Into his mouth, and I
listened; God help me, I listened.”
She started to her feet, aud stood fac
ing her huslmnd, her arms raised to
her head in a wild gesture.
“It was no fault of mine that I did
not sin against you In deed ns I did in
thought,” she cried. “If it had uot been
for some accident—I don’t even know
what it was—I should not have been
here now. 1 went to meet him one
night. We were to drive to Oakley and
take the train for some place. I wait
ed, I don’t know how many hours, but
he didn't come; at last I crept homo
nnd found you asleep. All night 1 sat
liy the fire waiting for some word from
him. for I was ready to go-yes. even
then I was ready to go. In the morn
ing when you were away a letter came,
saying that an unforeseen accident had
happened and he would let me know
nbout It soon. 1 never heard from him
again."
She paused and looked at him fear
fully, ns though expecting a violent
outburst of anger; but he said nothing,
nnd at Inst she spoke again, unable to
benr the silence.
"Won’t you speak to me?" she cried,
tremulously. “Hnven’t you been listen
ing? Have I done wrong to tell yon?
Speak to me, for God's sake; I enn’t
benr It."
The words were lost In a storm of
sobbing, and she threw herself down
on her knees beside him. hiding her
face with her hands on the arm of the
old-fashioned chair. Ordway looked
down at her through eyes that were
dimming. "Don't take on so, Eunle,”
lm said gently; “ye’ll he glad all the
rest of yer life, I think, on account of
Jest what ye’re eryln' about now. Look
up, my girl, an' maybe I can finish the
story for ye.” He put out Ills hand aud
stroked the bowed hend with clumsy
tenderness. "Ye say ye never knowed
why he didn't come that night,” he
said. “I could a told ye why.”
She raised her hend with a startled
exclamation. “You?” she cried.
"Yes,” he answered. “Jest me. He
stayed away because I told him he'd
better, and he knowed I meant what I
said.”
Her eyes grew lull of a wondering
fear, aud she shrank away from him;
but he smiled again and detained her
with gentle force. "Wait,” he said. "I
ain’t crazy. Did ye think I was so
blind all them months that 1 didn't see
what was happening? I'd a knowed 11
I’d been miles away, for there aia'1
never any trouble In your heurt bvt
whnt I don't feel It. Lord bless ye. I
seen what was goin’ on, but I thought
'twas best to say nothin’ an’ let ye
wrestle It out alone. Finally, when T
noticed that circumstances an’ every
thing was likely to be too much for ye.
why, 1 jest stepped In an 'talked to
Willis. He understood, an' that settled
It.”
‘‘Then you've known?” she Interrupt
ed breathlessly. “You’ve known all this
time?"
He nodded cheerfully.“All this time,”
he answered.
"But you never said a word to me—
you never acted as though-’’
“It’s always harder for me to talk
than to keep still,” he said slowly.
"Surely ye've found that out long ago.
I couldn't a said a word without mak
ln things worse most likely; so I
thought the best thing to do was to jest
wait—an’ I have lieen waitin’."
"Waiting!” she repeated. "Waiting
for what?”
"For what’s happened, Eunie,” he
said softly. "Waiting to hear Jest what
I've heard to-night; to have ye kneel
down here beside me ns ye’re kneelln’
now, a-wantln’ the help I can give ye,
an’ a-trustln' me enough to nsk for It."
He lifted Ills hand to check her ques
tion, and went on In the same tone. "I
ain't never been like any of the men
ye used to know. Why, for a year or
more after we were married I used to
set an’ watch ye, wonderin’ all the time
whether it was really me. an’ whether
my luck wasn’t too good to he true. 1
was always nfraid that there was a
mistake somewheres, for It didn't seem
right nor natural that ye should see
anything In me to care about, unless—
unless It was because I cared so much
for you; I tried to think that some
times.”
The woman was clinging to his arm
and weeping convulsively.
“ ’Tweren’t your fault, little girl,” ho
said. "It Jest happened thnt way.
There ain't no need to cry about it
now; the time for cryln’s all gone post,
an' I don’t think it'll ever come again."
He stopped abruptly, ns though half
aslmmed of his sudden outburst, and
let his glance rest lovingly upon the
kneeling figure at his feet.
"Ain't ye glad it’s happened?” he
asked. “Surely ye ain’t grievin’ over
the very thing that Is to make us so
happy ngen.”
She did not answer, and for a mo
ment he watched her in perplexed anx
iety. Then lie understood, and knelt
down by her side.—Toronto Saturday
Night.
WASTED ENERGY.
A Good Thing the lee Man Wasn’t
There.
Across an uptown street an ice wag
on was extended. The street was nar
row and the horses attached to the
wagon had evidently been halted at the
curb and then had turned diagonally
across the roadway. Usually these wag
ons are manned by a crew of two men,
but In this case neither man was in
sight. Presently along came n horse
and wagon with two men on the seat.
They couldn’t get by because of the Ice
wagon. They halted in the rear of the
obstruction and one of the men called
out:
“Hi, there, get a move on you.”
The ice wagon was full of Ice and the
driver’s seat was entirely concealed
from the men In the other wagon.
There was no response.
“What’s the matter with you?” yelled
the man: “don'tyou know you are block
ing up the highway?”
Still no response.
The vociferating roan grew angry.
“Say,” he howled, "If you don't drive
ahead I'll take off one of your wheels.”
The other man laughed. The wheels
of the Ice wagon looked ns if they might
have been made for the Juggernaut car.
The wheels of the other wagon were
light and shaky.
"If you don't drive ahead I’ll get off
this wagon and chuck you into the gut
ter,” shrieked the angry man.
"Say,” said the other man,.“don't talk
like that. These Icemen are all fighters,
lie'll come back here with an ice-hook
and welt the heads off of us.”
“I.et him come,” roared the first
speaker. "He can't bluff me. Say,
there, you wretched, white-livered ice
peddler, get a move on you, or I’ll tram
ple all over your worthless carcass.”
And even this didn't elicit a response.
Then the angry man slowly got down
from the sent, and, grasping his whip
in a firm grasp, cautiously circled
around by the way of the sidewalk un
til he could get a look at the driver's
sent.
“Why, there's no one here,” he called
back. Then he took the horses by the
heads and pulled them to the side of
the road.
As he climbed back Into Ills wagon
he said:
“It’s a blamed lucky thing for that
driver that he wasn’t there. I’d ’a’
beat the life out of him.”
And he pulled up the horse savagely
and rattled along.
For the Bike.
In a newly designed bicycle It Is not
necessary to use the feet and keep the
pedals moving all the time, ns the
spiked rear wheel can be lifted out of
line with the runners by means of n
lever near the head of the machine, so
that after speed has been attained or
In going down hills on the road the feet
can be held still.
Business Transaction.
Yabsley—See here, Mudge, why
haven’t you paid that $10 us you prom
ised V
Mudge—I heard you were going to
leave town.—Indianapolis Journal.
It Is saia that half the people born
die before reaching the age of 10. Some
others we kuow wouldn’t be missed
very much.
ADVICE FOR THE THIN GIRL.
GIRLS with slender proportions
r are usually picked out by their
more heavily weighted friends
ns persons to whom lots of advice
about increasing their avoirdupois
must be given. Probably a little in
formation on tills subject will be val
uable. The candidate for added flesh
should get all the sleep possible—from
nine to ten hours. In addition, a nap
in the middle of tlie day will help.
While napping no stays, tight shoes or
bands must be worn. If one cannot
sleep one should lie down in a dark
ened room at least thirty minutes in
stead. In the mornings a cold plunge,
or at least a cold sponge, must lie tak
en, dashing the water on the shoul
ders, neck and collarbone, drying with
a Turkish towel and avoiding heavy
clothing. A thin woman should avoid
cumbersome wraps, heavy-weight
dress goods and linings. She should
not tire herself bicycling, and she
should have plenty of fresh air. Diet
deserves a consideration. For some
drinking malt liquors is a great help,
but many cannot stand it. A diet with
an eye to acquiring flesh should con
sist of liquids—milk, water, but not
coffee and tea; no hot oreads, plenty
of butter and cheese and good cocoa.
The very thin woman should have live
meals a day, should eat marmnlade
anil plenty of warm milk and cream.
Indeed, if warm milk Is drunk before
retiring it is in itself almost a sure cure
for thinness. Above all, eat slowly and
never exercise until a half hcur after
meals.
Hustles Here Again.
When the Czar of Russia nnd the
President of France embraced at Cron
itadt roads they didn't dream that
their affectionate
greeting would
change the shape
\ of the feminine
s) form all over the
' civilized world.
But so It was, for
no sooner were the
P significant tidings
Hashed over the
wires than the
SETS THE SKiHT. C 1 G V G V Parisian
fashion-makers went to work to estab
lish the vogue of the Hussion blouse!
Now the Russian blouse, us all the world
knows, is a baggy, puffy, sloppy look
ing garment, hiding all curves of the
humanformdlvineand giving a general
air of limpness to its wearer. This
effect on the figure must be remedied
somehow and bustles and hip puds
Room to l>e tlie only
counteracting In
fluence. So t hoy i
nre selling rapidly.
Made of hair or^j
wire and ranging
In length from six
Inches to the length
HIP HUSTLE.
ot the dress skirt, they ure supposed to
give the proper “set” to the skirt, while
the pads for the hips accentuate the
smallness of the waist, and so give the
desired hour-glass effect which Is deem
ed necessary to emphasize the beauty
of the fashionable Russian blouse.
An Ideal Hostess.
She must never look bored.
She must make you feel perfectly nt
home.
She must know how to get congenial
people together.
She must never let any one be slight
ed or overlooked.
She must be perfectly unselfish abt t
her own pleasures.
She must know how to keep conver
sation always going.
She must make you feel Individually
that you are the favored guest.
She must see everything, and yet
possess the art of seeming to see noth
ing.
She must know when to ask the
amateur musician to dlsplnhis or her
talents.
She must remember that nothing Is
so tiresome, so surely death to all en
joyment, as the feeling that one Is be
tng entertained.
Feather lions.
Feather bcas arc still very fashiona
ble; they must never meet under the
chin, as they shorten the neck; they
should be invisibly fastened on eacii
side to frame the face and protect the
back of the neck and ears, which Is
really all that is needed. Neck rutiles
are popular also In three shades of rose
or lavender chiffon, silk, muslin or lib
bons, edged with velvet or gold braid.
Tnese ruclted collarettes are prettier
for very young girls than the feather
boas.
Restoring the Complexion.
If the complexion has been neglected
or Injured by the use of poisonous cos
metics or soaps, and it Is desired lo re
store it to its former healthful condi
tion, it must be done by administering
the proper food and nourishment to the
hungry pores and relaxed muscles. Is
It not reasonable that what can be done
Cor the body can ulso be done In an
other and more delicate way for the
face? Women can feel assured tknt by
a systematic, Intelligent and persistent
physical culture of their skin and com
plexion the hollows In the cheeks, at
the temples, under the eyes and about;
the chin, also the advent of the much-!
dread crowsfeet, can easily be post-j
poned many years.
Killed a Huge Hear.
Miss Hattie M. Richards, dnughter
of a dry goods merchant who lives at
130 West 8<>th street, New York, killed
one of the biggest bears ever slain in
the Dead River region of Maine. Mr.
Richards left New York with his fam
ily to spend six weeks In his handsome
camp at Chain of Ponds, on the Megali
th: tish and game preserves, which con
1 \\\ W
_ MISS H ATT IK M. HICK ARDS.
stst of 250 square in I U’s of the choicest
hunting ground in Maine. Miss Rich
ards carried a rifle that had been made
expreshly for her. She is familiar with
the use of firearms, and has often
brought down deer, but this was the
iirst time she had had a chance to
tackle n hear. Suddenly there was n
loud cracking of the underbush, and
looking In that direction she saw a
huge black bear coming toward her.
Bruin trotted along In blissful Ignor
ance of the presence of the young wo
man with rifle raised waiting for him.
When he had approached to within 200
feet of her she tired. The bullet struck
the bear in the neck and made a bad
wound, which caused the animal to
grow very savage. It made a rush for
the girl, but when it was about seventy
feet away Miss Richards’ rifle cracked
again and the bullet hit the bear behind
the ear aud killed It. The bear was an
old fellow and weighed more than 400
pounds. Guides said It was the largest
killed In the Dead River region in
years.
Paris Skirts,
In Tarls skirts nre made with five
and six gores respectively. The latter,
measuring about four and a half yards
round, Is the most popular. Horsehair
Interlining Is de rlgeur and, to give
additional “spring” to these skirts,
French modistes stitch the horsehair
In with each seam, and while perfectly
flat and tight about hips aud back the
newout skirts are more buoyant and
Irrepressible than ever at the hem.
Vocations of French Women.
French statistics show that there are
now 2,150 women In France who earn
their living ns authors or by writing for
newspapers, while there are only 700
painters and sculptors of that sex.
Among the writers are 1,000 novelists,
200 lyric poets and 150 who publish
children's stories and educational
works.
l.ntest Fuel.
Tnxldenn.v Is one of the latest fads I
of New York women. It Is said that '
Mrs. Jack Astor started the fashion by j
learning the art In order that she could i
preserve with her own hands the !
feathered trophies of her huntlug expo- ^
dltlons.
The Train Now Worn.
The train has arrived and fair ladles ■
will wear It this winter for home, din
ner and evenings, while even walking
gowns betiay a tendency to to sweep '
microbes from the street.
Women of Finland.
In Finland women have the right of
suffrage. They usurp men's privileges {
and are carpenters, paporhangers, I
bricklayers and slaughterers.
Every mother knows how i ard It is
lo put ou a child’s rubbers over his '
heavy shoes, and many a nurse will
testify lo a bent thumb nail and nu
abraded huger received during this
troublesome performance. One mother
discovered by accident tuat by the use j
of a shoe-horn the fructlous rubber lie
came amenable to treatment. She slips i
the shoe-born into the back of the rub
bet' while the child presses Ills foot
down, aud lo! the overshoe Is ou, sure
and linn, and (he mother’s temper and j
Ungers unharmed. It Is a trick that Is
worth the trying, |
PORTERS’ NEW TRICIC '
Convey Information by Marks on *>.
Baggage of Travelers.
The hotel porters of Europe have
new trlr-k, which may explain to *
tain travelers why they were ilot r'
eetveil ns cordially and treated wim
ns nmeh attention at some of thP i ‘
t.'ls ns otlier guests. The porters Lit
your baggage with certain hierog|VDif
les, as tramps are said to chalk t'
gateposts along the village road to m
form other gentlemen of mlsfomn,'
where fierce dogs are kept, where u,*
cook Is sympathetic and hospital?,!
and where they can tlnd eomfortah!
lodgings In the ham. The hieroglyph
les which the porters place upou
trunk are intended to indicate to tl
members of their profession at oth?
hotels the disposition of the traveler a
to fees. If you are stingy they lean,
the fact before they have expend/
any energy- In making you comfortabh,
and happy. If you are generous the!
know- that their services will he lib/
ally rewarded and pay you special n't
tentlon. The fee system Is becoming
serious to American travelers because
our fellow-citizens have been so lavish
in distributing their favors that the
employes of hotels and railway sta
ttons expect more from Americana
than from Europeans.
It Is always an advantage to stand
well with the porter of n hotel. He is
not the man who handles the baggage
but is usually a fine-looklug gentleman
in a uniform as gorgeous ns that of a
French major general. IIs Is always
at the front door and carries around lit
his head an encyclopedia of infornn
tiou concerning every point ou which
a traveler can possibly question him
He speaks several languages and
knows the nationality of a guest before
he crosses the threshold. The most re
markable porter I ever knew Is em
Ployed at the Slavinskl Bazaar hotel at
Moscow, and although people from all
the corners of the earth go there and
stop at that place It Is said that he Is
able to address every man hi his own
language. He can speak all the dla.
lects of Europe, Asia and Africa aiid
knows everything that any person cm
possibly want to know.
As a rule the servants In European
hotels receive no wages. They are fur
nlslied their food and often tiiolr lodg
ings, but depend entirely upon thi
gratuities from the guests for compen
sation. The waiters’ union in Paris re
cently attempted to secure the aboil
tlon of fees, not for the benefit of trav
elers, however, but for their own ad
vantage, because they want to compel
their employers to pay them flxed
wages; but their plan will not succeed,
and the patrons of hotels and res
taurants will be required In the future
as In the past to pny the wages of the
servants who wait upon them, al
though '“attendance” Is usually charg
ed In the hill. European traveler)
calculate the fees as accurately as the
Interest upon a loan, but it is a system
which an American can never acquire,
He first puts his hand Into Ids pocket
and takes out the first eolu he finds,
without regard to the value of the ser
vice he ts paying for.
If a European spends a week In a be
tel ho gives the porter 5 francs $1. It
he stays a month he usually pays al
the same rute. If he stays only a day
at the same rate. If lie stays only
a day he pays 1 franc. The head
waiter receives the same amount. Tin
waiter who brings up coffee and roll!
In the morning Is entitled to 3 franc)
» week, the chambermaid 2 francs and
the porter who cleans the hoots 1
franc, with a few centimes extra la
ease you have heavy baggage to ban
die. None of these fees Is paid until
you leave the house unless you arc a
regular boarder, when you are expect
sd to distribute this amount of money
svery week when you pny your bill at
the desk,
Tills Is very much better than thq
lack of system which prevails In the
United States, where hotel guests have
the same person to wait tqion them
twice, and are expected to pay a fee to
somebody every time n service Is ren
dered.—Chicago Record.
Testing the Earth's Heat.
The deepest hole In (he world Is be
Ing dug just outside of Pittsburg. I’m
under the direction of Frof. William
flnllock of Columbia College, and be
fore the cold wenther sets In he expects
to prove that the Interior of the earth
Is a vast furnace, capable of furnishing
an Inexhaustible supply of steam.
Already the hole has been bored to a
depth of nearly 0,000 feet, and It Is ex
pected thnt a depth of 10,000 feet wih
be reached, or approximately, two
miles.
Prof. Halloek was Induced to try tin
experiment of finding natural steam by
the knowledge of the proven fact tb.i
the earth grows steadily hotter t w
deeper It Is penetrated. If nn,|"'1
steam Is not encountered Prof. H®* ol\.
believes thnt the walls of the well «
be so hot thnt cold water can he Pu®r
ed down and pumped up again In 1
form of steam. The economic value
such a discovery Is readily «PPar®
It would be the birth of the nn " •
power of the future, and In 'l|e
run cheaper than any yet dlecou-r*
not excepting the power obtnlnec
the harnessing of Niagara.
The observations taken show Inn
tempernture Increases on an ®'er^f
one degree for each sixty feet. "
tain stages of the work the Increase
been greater and In others less ■
thnt. At 1,500 feet the tempern
was 00 degrees, and at 5,000 lee '
degrees, au Increase of 07 degree
4,400 feet.
Foxy Dolly.
Ted—When you were Hitting
Holly on the sand uud asked for11 ‘ ’
did she want to know If you iel1
loved her? tl„
Ned-No; she asked If I was su«
parasol wasn’t transparent.—No"
Evening Jouruu’