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The Home advocate. (Farmerville, La.) 1885-1???, June 10, 1887, Image 1

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YOL. III.
FAKMERYILLE, LA., FRIDAY, JUKE 10. 188;
I Entere«! a- second
, , » 1 H 1 •• ai Farmer, ill
'ter at the l'ost
iraa' y It h, lssä.
NO.
THE SPIDER'S WEB;
)OH,ET3
Trapped on the Trail.
*A Thrilling Romance of the
Silver Hills.
By MORRIS RBI)WING,
Author of "In the Shadow of the Scaffold,"
"Joella," "Cripple of London,"
Etc., Etc.
CHAPTER XVI.—C.omvrEij.
A low, pleased laugh fell on the ear of
the alarmed girl.
"I had no idea the disguise was so per
fect. "
It was Burden Ilrono!
And then Iva felt relieved.
"You have nothing to fear lrotn me, my
child, if you only trust me fully. 1 shall
work to secure your good alone, with due
Tegard for my personal safety, of course,"
said the outlaw, "i am going to visit Sil
snn.i, ..nit may ne absent til! to m n-row,
tint you can trust my partner, ii er Tom,
With your life, flood-by. ''
He hold out his bund, and she accepted
It with a sigh of relief. Even the otitluv.
was a preferable personage to that awful
miner.
A moment later Burden passed from the
house and hurried awav through the trees.
It was well for the outlaw's peace of mind
that he did not see the face that peered
from a thicket as he passed, a face blood
smeared, and lit by a pair of fiercely
(learning eyea.
CHATTER XVIL
"PICKLES' PARADISE. *
Detective Gray had the good luck to find
the white mare, Flight, after a long search,
but after making sure of the noble beast
he turned his attention to hunting up lva
in vain. ,
It was late in the%fternoon ere he gave
over the search and set his face toward
Silversand, the smoke from whose chim
neys was visible in the distance.
"Too bad," muttered the man with the
keen gray eyes. "The girl may have been
rescued by some one from the city, or by a
relative. I will go to Silversand and rest
there for the present. I may meet that
young scamp who sent me whirling in the
Silver Mine card-room. I'd like right well
to do so. And th is Burden Brono, who
cunningly stole my satchel, is at large, yet
not tar away. I am soon to realize my ex
pectations. and will win a cool ten thousand
for my trouble.
"I mast not dec vt the Swayne girl; I
katfl to e* It. , U« i.»., Dut 1
don't think it prudet to remain all night
here, it could ao no g.xni. "
Thus soliloquized the detective as he
wound his way on an ill-defined trail
through the hills. He reached Silversand
at dark, and crossed the little bridge where
the night before he had been stricken down
by the hand of the man he had trailed from
New York.
"It was lucky for me that you did invent
a novel machine for murder. Burden Bro
no," muttered Eagle Gray, as he rode the
white mare across the bridge.
"Hello, stranger! Halt there!"
Eagle Gray drew rein in the middle of
the street, where lights from the windows
illuminated the spot, confronted by a man
with grizzled beard and hair, clad in re
spectable garb.
"Stranger, where did yon get my horse?"
"Your horse? Are you dreaming, old
man?" demanded the detective.
"No. Come down or I'll make trouble
for yon. "
At the same time the old man displayed
• revolver. The detective did not care for
the weapon, but he saw something familiar
in the old fellow's countenance.
"You are the proprietor of Bog Tavern?"
"I am. Thia mare was stolen from me
last night "
" By your niece, Iva?"
"Yes! Have yon seen her? I am very
anxious about the child. I expect she was
indneed to flee from home by a designing
villain."
"Perhaps. I saw Iva Swayne this morn
ing. but lost track of her. "
Then the detective dismounted and stood
beside the landlord of Bog Tavern.
"Ah, it is the gentleman of the stage
coach!" exclaimed Swayne. "I remember
yon now—yon are a detective?"
"Come," said Engle Gray, not heeding
the question of his companion. "Let us
repair to a quiet place and we will talk the
matter over. " •
"Yon acknowledge my ownership of the
mare?"
"Certainly; the girl told me about it."
Lucius Swayne, being pretty thoroughly
Acquainted with the city, led the way to a
house on one of the back streets that bore
over the door the sigu: "Pickles' Para
dise!"
"Go in, sir. I will lead the horse to the
■table, aud then come round and talk with
you. Pete Pickles keeps the quietest house
in town—1 mW*' itop there. Tell him I
sent you, and you'll get the best the house
affords. ''
The detective turned the white mare over
to her owner, and passed iu through the
portals of "Pickles' Paradise."
It might be a quiet place, but it was cer
tainly the dirtiest spot the detective had
yet found iu the West. The air was thick
with smoke, so thick that countenances
were unrecognizable across the room, and
the fumes of poor whisky were almost un
bearable to a sensitive stomach.
Eagle Gray had become hardened in this
particular, however, and did not mind the
rank smell. He wondered, however, at the
landlord of Bog Tavern recommending inch
a place. The fat, red-faced Pickles was
behind the low bar when the detective en
tered. Tossing a quarter on the bar Gray
called for a cigar.
He sat in one corner and puffed at the
weed and watched the faces of the men who
frequented the place—toughs and blear
eyed miners of the lowest degree.
And this was the quiet house so praised
by Lucius Swayne.
Gray sat until he bad finished his weed,
a foil half honr, and then he rose to his
feet and crossed to the door.
Swayne liad not yet put in an appearance,
at which the detective began to wonder.
Me saw nothing of him ouUide. and then
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be turned to the man oentna tee oar, tut
great important Tickles himself.
"You know Mr. Swayne, of Bog Tav
ern?"
"Meester Swayne?"
''Yes."
"Meester Swayne—oh ye««, der drinks
fur dree. "
The detective waited while the barkeeper
set ont glasses and a black bottle for three
men who hid shuffled up to the bar. One
of the three was an old man, poorly clad,
with the symptoms of one well under the
iniuelire of liquor. He had one queer

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eve that persisted m rolling a white dot to- 1
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j calling, was a generous man.
...... ' '
w-urd one in a most unpleasant manner.
The detective noticed this, and started
1 suddenly. Where had he seen that game
eye before? Surely he hail seen it. and 'n
a fai different place than the present. Ah!
now he remembered, it was in a iittle cabin
among the hills. The white of that eye
had Ix en turned outward when the outlaw
1 was ex ited or wrathful.
.Again I leteothe liray cast a sharp glance
at toe seeming miner.
Tie white eye again glared at him, hut it
was the right eye: the defective orb in the
head of Burden Brono was the left one. A'
coincidence, tnat was all. uf course this
man was in no way connected with the
' noted outlaw. Nevertheless the expression
of that eye had given Gray a start and
! placd him on lus guard.
"Strung t, won't you treat a poor cub that
hid ins last cent stole by ondec.-nt white
niggers?"
1 it was the miner with the game eye who
put the question. His two companions had
j sauntered back to chairs at the side of the
room.
"You are unfortunate," answered the de
, tective "Who robbed you?"
"Darned whito niggers."
"Did von have much money?"
j "A heap on it, stranger, all in gold. I'd
. got it toguther, and was jest ready to start
fur old Missonree arler the old gal and the
balues. when a galo t tip and stole the hull
pile, an,d now I'm poorer u ever I was, that's
the solemn fact "
Tears stood in the old man's eyes as he
finished, and his aged, stalwart, yet now
sadly b -ut form trembled with the master
ful power of his emotions.
Even the heart of the detective was
touched, for Eagle Gray, in spite of his
Thrusting his hand into his pocket he
j drew forth several silver pieces and laid
them in the trembling hand of the old
miner.
"There, take that and my advice with it,
' which is to get out of the city and away
from saloons as quickly as possible."
"Thankee, sir. May I ask your name?
I want to 'member you in my prayers," ut
tered the old man effusively.
"My name is Thompson--"
"Aud mice's Hennery Harelip. I'll for
git ye no more, Mr. Thompson."
Then Mr. Harelip moved toward the
door. Eagle Gray watched him as though
pnzzled at something in the man's look or
voice.
On the threshold the old man turned half
( round, throwing a KiriÇt sLu»« b
j Then Eagle Gray started and uttered a low
I cry.
Again the white of that eye presented
I itself to the puzzled gaze of the det, :Uye,
and this time the defective orb was the left
one!
It was thia discovery that caused Eagle
Gray to start forward with an astonished
! cry
\\ hen he gained the door, however, the
I old man who had been robbed was nowhere
to be seen. A strong suspicion now held
possession of the detective.
I "It was Barden Brono, I am snre of it,"
muttered Gray, as he stood ontside, in the
shadow of a veranda post, and gazed sharp
■ ly up and down the narrow, filthy street
He had forgotten all about the non-ap
i pearance of Swayne under this new excite
ment
The detective hod allowed hia hand to
fall to the bntt of a concealed revolver.
A tonch on the arm caused him to turn
swiftly and look into the face of one whom
he had been longing to see.
"You were right Mr. Gray, alias Thomp
son, quite right The robber has made a
dupe of the great detective. "
Something like s sneer followed the
words.
Gray drew his pistol and covered the
I speaker, who was none other than his old
: enemy, Wallis Wager.
CHAPTER XVHL
A CUFF-BUTTON.
"Don't shoot, Eagle, and make a fool of
j yourself," warned the young man, with the
{ utmost coolness. "You and I oaght to be
friends,"
The detective did not lower his revolver.
; In the man before him he recognized the
assassin of Samuel Fredon, and he realized
that his opportunity had come for making
sure of his man.
"Not a move, or I fire,* threatened Gray.
"I will call the landlord and have yon dis
armed, and then I shall take you to prison. "
"Wait Do nothing precipitately," re
turned Wallis Wager, quickly. "Did I not
S laoe myself in your power voluntarily?
>o yon think that looks like the act of ■
murderer? I know what you would say—
that my assault on you in the card-room of
the Silver Mine was the act of a criminal—
but I can convince yon to the contrary in
less than ten minutes. I will oniv say here
that I am a detective myself, that I am
seeking the good of one who has been
foully wronged—a girl as pure and good as
one of heaven's inhabitants. Yon seek
justice, so do I, only my work is more dif
ficult than yonrs, and on a broader scale.
"I need your help, Mr. Gray, aud have
been looking for you during the dfiv, and
it was a mere chance my running upon you
here. I find too many irons in the lire for
one hand to hold. >Vill you join me in
the hunt for triple game?"
The words of the young man seemed
honest enough, yet the detective was not
disposed to trust him. He had been fooled
once by being too credulous.
"I must take yon to prison first, Wallis
Wager. You will have tin opportunity in
good time to vindicate yourself," said the
detective, sternly.
"If you persist in this you will only make
trouble for the innocent and play into the
hands of the enemy," asserted the young
man. "Not ten minutes since the notorious
outlaw, Burden Brono, was in your pres
ence, end you let him slip through your
fingers; had 'I been with you this would
not have happened. Brono is not' the only
one I seek. He murdered my friend Fre
don, and is a bad man, but he has been the
tool of a gre iter villain. You canuot for
give me for striking you down last evening.
I tell you frankly that that blow was given
to save myself from prison. I wished to
be free--"
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"An innocent man would have nothing to
■ fear."
I "But innocence behind prisons bars is
: utterly helpless to accomplish anything. I
1 will not go to jail. I had much sooner die."
There was an honest earnestness about
the young man's speech that began to tell
; on the incredulous detective.
He lowered his revolver.
People from the interior of Pickles' Par
| adise were flocking outside, and this was
I no place to exchange confidences.
I " Let ns go to a better place, young man.
I will talk this matter over with you," said
1 the detective at length.
A'
And then the two left the vicinity of the
low tavern together. Scarcely had they
departed when a short, heavy figure sprang
to the porch steps and gazed after them.
It was Lucius Swayne.
• So!" he exclaimed, in an undertone;
"those two men are friendly. Both will
work against me now, for, if I am not mis
taken, that voting scamp knows the story
uf the past, and ho wi!l m ike a confidant
of Eigle Gray, the detective. So let it be.
I shall meet them half way, they can rest
assured of that. I have two enemies to
overcome now v.ho are dangerous to my
future well-being. I am sorry that tips
thing has come to such a pass, but the
men who are on my track, hoping to hound
mo to the gallows, will find that I am not
so green as they imagine."
Lucius Swayne then entered Taradise.
quaffed a g'ass of liquor, and then went
once more out into the night.
"The game is never out until it's played
out," muttered the innkeeper as be moved
swiftly down the street.
It was under the roof of the pretentious
Silver Mine that the detective aud Wallis
Wager found a room to themselves where
they could converse without being dis
turbed.
"I am convinced that I can trust you.
Mr. Gray," said the young man. as he sat
down facing the New York detective.
Engle Gray only nodded in reply.
"You came to the West in search of this
Burden Brono, I think you once informed
me. I know you by reputation, since I am
from New York also. It was through a
friend of mine, the old man who was uiur
dered at Bog Tavern, that I learned of this
Brono aud of his crimes. Not being a
professional detective, it is not likely that
I sh uld have followed so many hundred
miles on his trail had it not been for the
fact that I believed he could give me most
important information regarding one who
was rightfully entitled to an immense prop
erty that I have been holding iu trust for
years.
"Perhaps it is too long a story to tell, yet
I am convinced that you ought to know it,
so that you ean act intelligently. A million
is involved in the case, and you shall be
amply rewarded if you assist me to accom
plish the work I have marked out. "
"You may depend on me."
"Aud you will hear the story?"
"I will."
Bending forward, with one hand resting
on the detective's knee, Wallis Wager be
gan, and talked on and on, in low, yot
earnest tones, and when at length he came
to a ran stop an hour had passed since they
entered the room.
"You astound me," were the first words
uttered by Detective Gray when bis young
companion had ci ased his narration.
"1 have seen this girl Edna. She is Iva
Swnyne now, and she fled from home last
night to escape the persecutions of her un
cle and cousin. "
Gray then gave a full account of his ad
venture in the hills.
"Aud that child is lost among the hills.
She will surely perish. Gray, this is bad."
"Admitted."
"You will stand by me and help me
fathom the mysteries, and bring the wicked
io justice and this wrouged child into her
rights?"
"I will."
Both men came to their feet, clasped
rands, and regarded one another in solemn
iilence for some seconds.
"I trust you fully now. Wager. Bnrden
Brono is in the city, and it seems that we
aught to capture him before he makes his
rscape. "
"We will try it."
And then the two left the room and went
aelow. Detective Gray went upon the
»treet, while M allis haunted the card-room.
So discoveries were madfe that night, nor
j for several days thereafter,
i Wallis and Gray, in disgnise, visited
' »very den in the city, and afterward ;
I learched the hills in the vicinity without
! meeting success. Even old Swayne had :
i mysteriously disappeared.
I The detective finally arrived at the con
tusion that the old tavern-keeper had
I 'ornd Iva and returned with her to his tav
j ira- home. A man was seen who said that
j le met a white horse attached to a light ve
1 licle leaving the city for the cast, with two
j jersons on the seat, an old man and a girl,
I >n the day following the night of the de- 1
: motive's meeting with Swayne.
I "I do not imagine harm will come to the
j rirl for the present," said Engle Gray; "but
I if you feel it necessary one of us might i
I visit the old tavern."
I "To-morrow I will do so," returned Wal- j
lis W ager. "I am anxious to trap that ras
! cal of a Brono first, before I arrest old
Swayne and his wife. Brono will be an
important witness against them." _
"He may not choose to tell what he |
knows. "
"I imagine he would to save his own neck." j
"Perhaps, if such an alternative presente
itself, but if he really nranlered Fredon-"
"I am quite sure that he did. His faoe
was not plainly revealed to me as he sped
from the room, but I concluded that it
must be Brono. You see, I was awakened
some time about midnight by a noise in the
room. •
"It seemed to proceed from my com
panion's bed. I had lain down without re
moving my clothes, and the moment the
sound reached my ear i sprang ap. As I
did so a man was passing swiftly through
the open window to the roof of the veran
da, where the rain and wind made a pande
monium of sound.
"I dashed at him. but he escaped by slip
ping from the roof to the ground. A
lightning flash revealed him as he disap
peared, and the same gleam revealed some
thing just within the window that had evi
dently been torn loose ns he grasped to save
himself from slipping off the veranda roof.
I secured it; it proved to be a gold cuff
button with a peculiar setting. I preserved
the button, believing that it might lead to
the discovery of the assassin. "
The young man paused in his explana
tion and drew a wallet from an inner
pocket. From this he brought forth a
glittering bit of jewelry. The latter held
it up to the light, and the moment he viewed
the button he nttered an exclamation.
It was indeed a curious design—a tiger's
head encircled by the coil of a serpent
Qtyptly reversing the button. Detective
G rat! uttered the low cry noted above.
•W^Sat now, Eagle?"
"llxe seen this article before. Look
thorp."
Eagle Gray pointed to the inuer surface
wheys Wallis Wager saw two letters, E and
G ergraved.
"My initials, boy," cried the detective in
a thrilling voice. "I lost the buttons one
year ago. while in Yonkers near New York.
Some thief took them from my room, aud
that thief it is likely is the man we need for
the murder of your old friend. "
"Good gracious! but it is strange that
they should turn up two thousand miles
from the spot where you lost them. Do
you imagine that it was Burden Brono
who took them?"
"I cannot say. Wo must find its mate;
Huriwill determine the case."
Before Wallis \\ ager could speak again
a tremendous crash came to their ears from
below. Then came the sharp report of a
pis-Vd, lollowed by yells, and a loud cry
that rang high above all others:
"Munir)-'"
This was the startling import of the cry.
[TO lit: CONTINUED 1
TO UK CONTINT KI>.
TRETTY SHOP GIRLS.
All I ill crest i ng Sight <
Broadway When They
>ii Lower
are Out iu
ll'ioin New York Letter.]
If is a pleasure to walk up Broadway
from Chambers to Kleeckei street any
bright afternoon from 5.30 to 0 o'clock.
Nearly every one of the big buildings
within those limits has factories on
every floor, where hundreds and thou
sands of girls are employed in making
clothing, underwear, neckties, cloaks,
fancy boxes and other articles of luxury
and necessity. Pretty much all of them
are between the ages of 14 and 25. By
the time they are 25 they are either mur
ried or swept away,no one knows where.
3lost of these factories close at 5.30 and
the girls lmrrv on their wraps and start
for home, and great numbers of them
Jive in Brooklyn and New Jersey, where
hoard and lodging is mueh cheaper than
in Now York, and so they walk down
Broadway to the ferries. They are as
handsome a set of girls as can he found
anywhere. Like nearly all American
women, they have the knack of dressing
liecominglv, and their trim and shapely
figures are shown off'to good advantage.
They do not look discontent, if their
Bright and cheerful faces are any crite
rion, aud they chatter merrily as they
pass along two or tin. e at a time. They
have the independent bearing of girls
who know they earn their own living
and are not dependent on any man for
support. Some of the prettiest are nc
cdpipanied hvyoimrr men perhaps some
of the clerks who have taken a fancy to
them. Nearly all of them have been
pui«!' in the public schools. They read
the newspapers and can talk cleverly.
A vast amount of rot is printed about
them, but in point of fact they are as
jolly and contented a lot of young women
as can be found elsewhere in the world.
There is a great outcry on the part of
theatrical, short-haired and atmospheric
philanthropists, at times, because fac
tory and shop girls do not give up their
employment and seek homes as servants
in uptown families. The girl knows
what she is about. The bedraggled
maid of all work, nagged by a silly mis
tress, abused by a horde of snappy chil
dren, and saddled with a thousand cares,
has one night out a week, when she has
an opportunity to be courted Hy the
coachman or hostler. The working girl
is her own mistress absolutely from the
time she leaves the factory at ß o'clock
in the evening until she returns at 8
the following morning. Her indepen
dence is absolute, and during her hours
freedom she is as much a lady as the
wife of the President. She visits lier
friends aud receives the calls of men
who are by no means to be despised in j
the matrimonial market. A arreat. and
the matrimonial market. A great and
welcome change has come over public
opinion respecting women who have the
courage, faith and energy to go out in
the world and make themselves the nr- |
biters of their own futures instead of
moping at home, a burden to their
friends and a trial to their relatives.
That workingwomen command in many
instances the highest respect cannot be
denied by any man who has an intimate
knowledge of New York lift*. There are
ladies of high culture, finished accom
plishments aud many graces of mind and
person in the l»oarding-liouses of New
York who are the popular leaders of lit
tle social circles despite the fact that
they are employed during the day.
There are grades of labor, and women
have learned to look the world in the
face and fight for the best fields.
Wood anti Bones in a Deep W ell.
The Eureka (Col.) Time* says:—
In addition to bits of charred wood,
which we noticed the other day as hav
ing been brought up from a depth of
500 feet in the artesian well which tho
Ricks Wahr Company is drilling, we
have l»een rim wn pieces of shells such as
are common along the ocean beach. !
These camei up from as far down as 580 j
feet, which (depth has now beeh reached.
These fragments of shells are found in |
considerable quantity, and Mr. Ricks
informs usjJlso that two or three pieces |
of lame from the skeleton of a bird have j
come up. The finding of such things so
deep in the earth is exciting eonsi lera
hle interest in the community, and the
inquiry naturally arises, How came they !
there ? It seems pretty conclusive that
at some period the strata in which they
are embedded were not below the level
of the sea. At some time those shells
were on the surface, and on the surface, i
in ages past, somebody kindled the fire
that charred those bits of wood; some
time that bird was winging about abovç .
ground. But when was that. *v..<i by
what means were they entombed in so '
deep 3 sepulchre ( * , •
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null
1 xv a
ik (
>n \\ it ii '
uino i
of the
imguiin
would ll.TV
one of the si
market won
precincts ant
his stall each
of his wart
carry a con e
responsible f
theft. The
stands so eh
fresh men
ed at tin
time t
ring ap
, but In
tak<
watchmen
ap
st him. Before
meat (b aler makes ,
■ exposed. The wi,
spending list, and .
ir the loss of any gi
-i\ watchmen guard
»sei v that thieves f
on
man,« I
ill the
of them
of great
to
ws up
to the wharf a
ar
■ seve
•al refrigerator
ceil
burr
ing from ( hi
»ad
s of f
eef. The ear
mt
of til,
ear, hung on
ovc
on
iron ways
ed
into
great ice
he
retail
dealers have
c<
mie f
>r their stock.
rdav
nornings busi
el.
ek.
{ousters in the
1 .
row :
s blithely as if
place a barren waste for their trai
3 o'clock the stands in the retail
begin to open.
The eminently healthy butchers
place whistle merrily and several i
are cutting beef kidneys out
masses of fat and tossing the suet over
on counters, whence it will be taken to
the big factory known as the fat as-., ia
tion, and there made up to the base of
••genuine dairy butter." Beyond the
retail market, and bounded on one side
by the North Hiver, is the wholesale de
partment of Washington Market. It
looks like a street intersected community
of one-story structures, peopled with
carcasses of beef, veal and mutton, and
crates of quacking, cackling fowl
A wheezing tue
lighter, on which
cars that have b
cago with their h
casses arc passed i
hooks that m
and thus roll
houses, where t
already begun t<
On Friday and ?
ness begins at 2 o
crates full of fow
they were on their perches at home and
not doomed prisoners. Philadelphia i
the great fowl-producing centre, and
many Washington Market firms display
plackartls reading: •■Philadelphia poui
try a specialty.''
Four o'clock comes and the retail de
partment of the market lias become quite
densely populated. Half of the 3,0t>0
persons w ho do business in anti about the
market have already arrived and begun
to arrange their wares. A few early pur
chasers are on hand for choice bargains.
Several shivering buinm rs win. I'requi ut
the place and deep, Heaven knows where,
are standing about and looking wistfully
in at the windows of the little restaurants
in the market. They will, late in the
day, run the chance of earning an odd
dime or so carrying baskets.
The poultry dealers have come and are
unpacking boxes of frozen turkeys. Of
the Western States Iowa is famous for
its frozen turkeys, which now sell at 14
to 15 cents u pound. Vermont and
I
8
Rhode Island turkeys, however, sell for
20 to 22 cents.
On the bills of fare of recherche
restaurants one learns that prairie chicken
can be had. They are not in the market,
but long rows of Guinea hens are hang
ing there, and the brunette flesh of the
Guinea hen is palmed off on the mi
j suspecting customer for prairie chicken
ROWS of adult pigeons that sell at $2.51
a dozen are on sale, and
pigeons, alii
dozen,
| At six o'clock
peopled with til
$2.50
lusters ofyt
alias squabs, are worth $5
!
j
|
|
j
!
i
.
'
the oyster stands are
of oyster openers who
begin their unroinantic toil of turning
3,000 oysters a day out of house and
home. These oyster opener-get $17.50
a week and work from 0 in the morning
until 1 at night, and on Saturday until 10.
Skilled oyster openers in other .sections
of the city work for $1 a thousand and
make $30 or more j week. Anglomania
ha- evidently entered into the game
trade, for English snipe are selling at
$2.75 a dozen and sand snipe at but
$1.50.
Everything eatable is sold in this great
market. At one stand that has a foreign
air and odor a customer is buying little,
hard, spiced cakes from Germany. Over
another stand in the li-h community is a
placard announcing that the dealer has
worms that can be had there for 10
and 10 cents a dozen. They are sand
worms, used by ti-hermen for bait. Over
the fish stands hang bottles of cod liver
oil, aud under one of these bottles a big
cod, stil! alive, is gasping in horror, as if
at the sight of tile essence of ail ancestor's
liver.
At Ï o'clock the stewards of the big hotels,
when» tli< marketmen treat with great
deference, begin to arrive. The steward
of the Fifth Avenue Hotel is one of the
first in the field : the I'nion Square HiflfJ
steward comes at 0 o'clock, and of Tai
lor's Hotel, in Jersey City, hail ;t n hour
later. At that hour the l»u-i,»es.s of the
market begins to be confusedly brisk.
The marketmen cry finir wares, but do
it with an air of "I •'don't care much
whether you buy vf not." Everybody
seems independent. He owns his'stand
privilege, wortl;'from $2,000 upward,
and holds it as Jong ; »s he behaves him
self anji-j^ys his rent of $7 ormoreafort
nigd 1. Failures in business are rare. The
'lean rs are healthy and contented, and to
them Washington Market is the universe.
Ose who has not been in business in the
market over fortv years is considered a
I
,
i
i
!
w
new comer. One bustling old won, un,
who was selling Florida strawberri*** at
thirty-live cents a quart, is up at 2 o'clock
every morning buying her stock. Sin is
Mrs. Fowler, and a cordial neighbor \
plain
;s that
dn
• has been on the in :it<
f«»r! v
-OIK* V«
ar
-, She mild, a fertiin
i
unci',
, and <>\v
ne
d a brown stone It ut. be
misf<
Htimo a
ml
Hie sicknc-s of her i hi
j
«lion
turned l
:h.
• tide against lier, and mo
'
^!n i
s
ra!
lively poor, but as hnpp
j
CY
or.
;
Tli
IO trad.
UK
are very neighbor > '
t ikt*
jiride in
hit ing the history o : h
!
-M
market.
Trinity Church gi\,
j
oit\ ;
. part -
f
tlie market, and what
i
now
known
i- :
Hi, Trinity < !i in h m t r *

i- .*% !
out; all.
where the butter deahu
j
arc.
Tli- t!
■ people point out lh,
< do!
Hit i* - w
it h
p: ide. A iu mg tin sc 5
i
vol! n
man i
:ai
m d William l'uri ell, w h
d ho
ir ï.» a n
i am and w oiks at les me.
!
Mam
l a< if t.
) k
cep the well away.
i

lion
km
tin a
III:
T 1c
111'
1 1 :111 \
mil
fill
the balance of l
he }
rod lie I. Tin
e are
two different pr
>res>
rs o
silvering
mor
cury being use.
to
OIK
and nit
ale of
silver for the
nth
*r.
The latt,
r a rc
known as 'patent 1
arks
' nlthong
i not
patented, and
ire
Uem
rail, rep
acini;
mercury on a, <
oun
of
the gri at!
V- de
creased risk in 1
and
in IT
In th, :
minor
process a sheet
of
tin
foil, m in
■w hat
larger than I lie mirr<
>r \v
lilted, i- |
•laced
upon a le,el tab
e. tl
c be
1 of Whirl
is of
glass or marble.
and
whi.
Il lllll-t 1,1
abso
n' 1.
rn d.
tj:
French plate, the < ii r
I million A nu i h an glass
is. The latter ean be
me\ !.. plant the uosi
rd the I ar. or a more i
fl'ort to get both ey i :
place. The < lei man plate
regular -i/e-. already silv
very thin, but generally
and comes about one-titth
I he French plate, which . d .n ogether
for first-class mirrors. Tie difference
ean be told by pressing thr linger on the
face of the glas-, by which the lliiekiu ss
ean readily be perceived. There are
three fat tories in tin* I'nited State- man
ufaeturing plate glass, but none of them
1ms yet succeeded in seeming the nece—
s.-irv whiteness and freedom from bubbles.
Imperfections that are not noli, mbh in
clear plate become very prominent \vh"n
silvered. Silvering quality glass, as il is
known, is carefully selected by the
French manufacturers and sold for that
purpose, commanding a higher pre < than
lately clean and free from even
ightist scratch. Strips of glass
then placed on the edges of the foil
prevent the mercury from run
As much mercury as the inclo-ure will
hold is then poured over the foil, aft t
which the plate is floated on and entirely
covered with heavy iron weights. The
table is then tilted and the surplus mer
cury drains oil', after which they are
stood on edge to dry. which requires
from one to 1 wo weeks. In makings
•patent hack' the glass i- laid on a table,
underneath which is a steam coil. The
nitrate of silver in solution is then
pound on. a gentle heat applied, ami
the silver precipitated. The back is then
painted and the mirror is complete.
Either process requires a great amount of.
skill and care. Absolute cleanliness is
imperatively necessary in every part of
the work. Distilled water is used in
cleaning the plate preparatory to si! s i
ing, and a drop of perspiration or dust
spoils the work."
Big Doctar's Kills.
Big Doctar's Kills.
The public often marvels at the prient,
paid by rich persons for art objects.
Greater surprise might be caused by the
sums given to physicians for the preser
vation of health. It has been said ttiav
Miss Wolfe, the hopeless invalid, owner
of $10,000.000, pays Dr. William Tod
ilelnuith $(i.000 a year to doctor her. She
confirms those figures. Mrs. Alexander
T. Stewart retained three doctor- at at;
aggregate cost of at least $40,000, and
called in one of them nearly every day.
She had what seemed like a system, by
which she abided by the decision of two
out of three in matters of diet and medi
cine. Mrs. William Astor pays to Dr.
Fordicc Barker personally an average of
$20,000. always sending a cheek for
double or trMe the amount of each bill
rendered. Ib r idea is that by rewarding
his skill and vigilance liberally sic will
get the very be-t service of which he is
capable. Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt's
I physician is Dr. W. S. Beiden, and
, though her health is excellent he is eon
i suited often, prevention being preferable
to cure, doubt less, and the belief is lhut
the prevention costs not less than $10,000
annuallv. N> ir York Letter.
'copie.
publishc
II»
i purely left
! sonic frit*
u. 1
that.
Left-Handed
Dr. Louis .lubert lia- ju
book on The Left-Hand,
lie treat- exhaustivi ly of tl
sons who are mole dextrou
use such a pun, with the
w it!i the dexter liant!
traveler !,.t- \ et come
handed
-Tiirari.
time. hav+-'j_r »,[) preference to tie u-r f
.the left hand. Among -m h nils -, how
ever, not more than seventy per cent, are
left-handed. It is sometimes the rule
among such tribes to account the left
handed side, in-tead of the right, as the
place of honor. He prints a curious ap
pendix by Dr. Monro, who has made > x
tensive studies of the physiological |>o
culiaritics of the criminal class. Dr.
Monro asserts that he has found among
the condemned criminals twenty-five [ter
cent, who wen- left-handed, while a com
parative research among other pcrsnus
has convinced him that the proportion of
the left-handed is tt ot above nitn per
cent. This would seen» a sort of justifica
tion of the moral application of the word
•'sinister ."—Poll Mall GaztiU.

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