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AVmoRfl COPYRIGHT BY AMERICAN PRESS ASSOCIATION, 1801. PAET THREE-LIFE. CHAPTER IX, TOM BANNICK'S visrron. "Good morning, sir," said Tom. Near the tipper end of Nassau street, in New York, stands a tall building containing business offices. In the year 1872 this building was regarded as one of the finest in New York and was occu- cupied chiefly by a good class of lawyers. The apartment on the northeast •corner of the top floor bore upon the ground glass panel of its door the legend, "Thomas H. Bannick, Law Office." Mr. Bannick had lived in the building since its erection, but only latterly in his present quarters. Ho had begun business in one of the large suits of offices on the third landing, but, for one reason or another, the larger rewards of his profession had not come to him, and, not being weighted down by gold in his pockets, he had gradually risen from one floor to another, until .'at length he had found himself, architecturally speaking, above all his fellow tenants. To go higher was impossible. He was not yet light enough to live in the empty air, although if things went on as they had been going it looked as if he would have to live on it. Because a man is poor in New York it does not always follow that he is a scoundrel, or even that he is incompetent. Tom Bannick, at all events, was neither. He was born of .1 good North, of Ireland family, and had been thoroughly educated at Dublin university. After a supplementary career in law he came to America with ten thousand pounds in his pocket, and an impression that he was going to make a large fortune. Curiosity and a temper hospitable to adventure drew him to the western states, where for a dozen years he had a very h'vely and interesting time of it. He twice lost all his money, and once was worth a couple of hundred thousand dollars. These vicissitudes, it must be confessed, were not incident to the regular practice of his profession—he speculated in land and mining properties, and • the inevitable ups and downs followed. After his second reverse he tossed up a cent by way of determining whether he should follow the law or go to California and prospect for gold. The cent came up heads, and he chose law accordingly. The many friends he had made and his knowledge of mining got him plenty of biisiness, and it turned out that he was a better manager of other people's affairs than of his own. He was making a fair income when it came into his head that he might do still better in New York. There is plenty of money in New York, but, like the fairy gold of the legends, it has a way of vanishing just when yon think you have your hands on it. Tom Bannick was a sound lawyer and a man of excellent judgment, but he was incorrigibly hoi^est. He was conscientious to a degree that caused his colleagues to ' shrug their shoulders. He objected to taking tip doubtful cases "on spec.," and to defending causes which seemed to him to involve thievery. He had no influential friends to back him up, and he was not a politician. On tho other hand, he sometimes u Ivocated a case that up- pealed to his sympathies, oven when it did not pay him much. Altogether he was not a success. He had lately married a pretty little wife, who had made him very happy, and whom he would have liked to make very rich. She was a good manager, but there was no magic dwarf to help her spin the domestic straw into gold. One October morning Mr. Bannick arrived at his office about ten o'clock, and ascertained from the pale faced and cynical urchin in charge of the anteroom that no one had yet called there^-a piece of news which custom had robbed of its startling features. He then entered the inner room, hung up his coat, lit a cigarette, and sitting down in his revolving chair began to read the newspaper. The French indemnity, it appeared, was paid. Louis Napoleon was not expected to live. Count Lucien de Lisle, the Mexican millionaire was stopping at the Brevoort House. Stocks were Mail. Mrs. Harry Trent entertained a tffw friends at dinner last night. "So she has reentered the world, has she?" said Tom Bannick to himself. "Well, by George, she's got the money! J wish it had been that poor Eaven girl! Hullo! What's that?" The outer door had opened, and eoine one w&S i» the anteroom. "Must be that beggar about the piano Well, if he'd collect my bad debts, hjp, I ttok I'll offer threw open his desk and hacltaken up his pen to write tho day of the month at the head of a sheet of blank paper, when the office boy opened the door. "Gentleman to see you, sir," he said, and handed over a card. It bore tho name-and titlo "Count Lucien de Lisle." "Why, that's tho chap at the Brevoort!" muttered Mr. Brannick. "Show the gentleman in, Jacob," ho added. A tall man entered, removing his silk hat as he did so. Ho was a handsome man, and of striking appearance. His hair, of a light brown hue, inclining to reddish, was cut rather short, and stood upright over his head without any parting, in the French manner. His beard, also cropped short and pointed at the chin, was of the same hue; but his eyebrows and eyelashes, and his eyes themselves were somewhat darker, giving a peculiar character to his countenance, scarcely modified by the gold rimmed eyeglasses that sat astride his handsome nose. A black double breasted coat was buttoned round his figure, and his erect and slightly formal carriage bespoke military training. His clothes were perfectly cut, with j ust a suspicion of dandy- ism in the fashion of the collar and the design of the scarfpin. But dandyism in a foreigner is simply "foreign," and bears no stigma. It was evident at p glance that Baron Lucien de Lisle was a gentleman in the most exacting sense of the word. "Good morning, sir," said Tom, glancing from the card in his hand to the visitor before him. "Have a chair. Can I do anything for you?" "I desire it," returned the count. His voice was quiet and grave and marked by a Gallic accent, perceptible at first, but to which one soon became accustomed. He spoke English, as Tom soon noted, quite idiomatically, though with a more careful precision than a native would use. He sat down, put his hat and gold headed cane on the book shelf and began to take off his gloves, which were of the two button variety, and elaborately stitched on the backs. "I am in New York to stay some time," he continued, "and I wish a house. The hotel, you comprehend, is excellent, but not—not—not"— He made a gesture with his right hand, on the finger of which was a large and beautiful ring. "Not enough elbow room," Tom suggested. "No, I suppose not. But, by the way, I'm not a real estate agent, I'm a lawyer." "I comprehend. But I am a stranger here; I find the customs unfamiliar. I thought, if I got some one to act for me, it is more expedient and quicker. 1 pay each month so much, all is done and I make no mistake. Am I clear?" "I understand what you mean," said Tom, endeavoring to disguise his excitement by rubbing his chin and looking out of the window. "By George!" thought he to himself, "If this fellow's as rich as they say, I may make money out of him. Wonder how five thousand a year would strike him? Courage, my boy! Now or never! You would like me to take entire charge of your business affairs while you are here?" he continued aloud. "Well, I suppose some such arrangement could be made. But there'd be a great deal of work connected with it, and prices are high in New York, you know." He looked up at his visitor with a smile. "I shall hope there will be no disagreement about that," said the count, with a slight inclination of the head. "I shall submit to your demands; but I had intended offering you ten thousand dollars" "Ten thousand a year!" exclaimed Tom, surprised into a jubilant tone. In a moment his warm Irish imagination had built a hundred castles in the air. "Pardon me; I would not expect you to accept that," said the count, gravely. "I had hoped to induce you to give your time almost wholly to my affairs, and if ten thousand dollars a month, paid monthly in advance, will secure your services the arrangement will gratify me." Tom turned his chair round so as to face his interlocutor squarely, and looked at him several moments in silence. "Do you seriously propose, Count de Lisle," he said at lengtTl, "to offer to pay mo a salary at the rate of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year?" The count inclined his head without speaking. "Well," said Tom, "I'm afraid I shall have to decline it." "I should be sorry for that. May I ask why?" "I'll tell you just what's in niy mind. Such a sum is unheard of. In my profession I've made it a rule never to do anything that would make me feel uncomfortable—ashamed to look myself in the face. You can get any legitimate business done for ten thousand a year; at any rate, I'd do anything that didn't hurt my conscience for that, or half of ijt. But ten thousand a month means that you are after somet' : -ig that is not legitimate, and I must tell you that you've come to the wrong place for it?" The count listened to this speech very attentively and it evidently pleased him, "I see I have not been misinformed about you," he said. "I am glad you have so frankly spoken. When you know me better you will withdraw your reflection on my motives. I intend no crime; nothing that your conscience $r your wife would not approve. Mr. Bannick, I wish you to remain entirely independent. You will be at liberty to terminate our agreement without warning, at the moment when I suggest anything that you may disapprove. But you must meanwhile let me be judge of the value of your service. An honest man is not easy to find, even in New York; and he is therefore valuable. You will have tho management of large interests and the offer I wake you is not more than a fair commission." "I can't believe it!" ejaculated Tom. "I mean—I beg your pardon—it seeaw as if there must Ue something behind, I pay be a fool, no doubt—in, fact, .§ Better of camffli, f ajwa " 14 m By tho twenty-fifth of November you will know me well enough to know whether you desire our relations to continue or not. Meanwhile I give you your salary for that first month. Next month, if you be not content, we part. Is that right?" "I have been a poor man most of my life," said Tom, clearing his throat and looking steadfastly at the other. "It's no use blinding the fact that you are making me a wonderful proposition. It's not ordinary business, and I can't account for it. If I had saved your life and you wanted to reward me for it you couldn't do more. Such an amount of money isn't a salary; it's a fortune. I can't earn it; it would be a gift, not a payment. But if you are buying only my services, and not my soul, I'll accept it. I'll make my services as vdfcmble as I can." "If you have not saved my life, perhaps you may some time have done for some one a good act for which you were never recompensed," remarked the count gently. "And I perhaps take this means of discharging an obligation conferred upon me by some one whom I was unable to reward at the time. We must make use of each other in this way. If besides your services I gain your friendship I shall be still your debtor." The somewhat formal manner of this speech did not detract from its evident sincerity. The count took ten one- thousand-dollar bank notes from his pocketbook and laid them on the desk, observing, "I cashed a check at the bank just now—if the notes will not inconvenience you. Some time today you can make a receipt, and also draw up a paper to give you my power of attorney, and, if you like, one embodying our agreement. And now," he added, as if to prevent Tom from giving expression to the feelings that were swelling in .his heart, "let us return to what I was saying. I have seen a house that will suil me. I want you to secure it for me." "Whereabouts is the house?" inquirec Tom. The count described its location. "Why that's the Harry Trent house?' Tom exclaimed. "It's a good house— '. don't suppose there's a better in town but no one has ever lived in it. Do you know why?" "Its situation pleasedme, anditseemec to have—what you call elbow room." "The owner, the man who built it Harry Trent, was murdered there two or three years ago. It was a famous case I was retained in it myself. It gave the house a bad name. Do you care for tha sort of thing?" "No," answered the count simply, think I have heard of that man," he added, after a pause. "Was ho not a merchant of diamonds?" "That was the man. Tall, fresh looking, with white hair. An agreeable fellow, I believe." "Yes, I have met him. Was he not in Paris in eighteen hundred and sixty- nine? Yes, the emperor was said to do some business with him. And he was murdered, you say? And you were of the counsel?" "I appeared for the prisoner." "The man who murdered him, who was he?" "Well, my conviction was then, and is now, that the prisoner was not the man who murdered him. Appearances were against him, but I believe ho was innocent. His name was Keppel Darke, an artist." "Did you prove it to the jury?" "No," said Tom with a sigh; "they found him guilty in the second degree. He was sentenced to imprisonment for life. They might as well have hanged him." "Why do you say that? If he is innocent, it is always still possible that it may be found so; and then, since he still •lives, it can be made good to him." "It will never bo much good to him, poor boy! He was killed in a railway smash as they were taking him to Sing Sing. He's out of the question. But I'd like mighty well to get on the trail of the real murderer. That would be worth while still!" "Have you suspicions on the real one?" "I can't say I have. Nobody seems to have benefited by his death. His widow, to be sure, got his fortune; but she must have had the use of it while he was alive. My idea was that Trent had some intrigue or othe» that never was known about, and that that was the cause of his death. But there's no telling." "Had he no relations—no friends—to whom a part of his fortune might have been left?" "No blood relations, as far a 1 ? is known: but—well, this was an odd feature of the case. There was an old lady and her daughter in whom he was interested, and I believe they were some sort of distant cousins of his. It was reported that he thought of marrying the girl; he was acting as her guardian, and allowed the two an income out of his own pocket. But when he died his will gave them nothing, not even a continuance of the allowance." "And the will was not contested?" "No. Miss Eaven was sensitive under the circumstances and preferred not." "But if he left a widow how was it that he expected to marry this young lady?" "That was a little surprise. The marriage had been secret, and wasn't known till after his death; took place in Prance somewhere, I believe. Yes, there were several queer things about the case. 1 should have advised following it up. Still I think the murder was not connected with the other questionable features. It stood by itself." "The widow is still living?" "Oh, yes; and if I'm not mistaken she means to play a big part in society this winter. She has money enough, and a good position. I wish the Ravens, pool things, had had the half of her luck." "Ah! and have they met with misfortunes, then?" "Well, it's hard enough for a man to hjys jvay,. let alone ^ <$£$$ ol eat limped at the idea. I got a few for her, and she succeeded so well with them ;hat others came along. But pupils are lot to bo had in summer, and she would >e fortunate to make eight hundred n year. Luckily, I had more room than I needed in my house, GO there was no •ent for them to pay, and they are com)any for my wife when I'm away," "They are living with you, then?" "^At my invitation—yes. Miss Raven ,nsists on pay ing board; but"—hero Tom chuckled—"I use it to buy the pictures she pitts on sale in the shops when no one else buys them. I've got quite a lollection of 'em; but, bless her heart she doesn't know it?" You have told me an interesting story," remarked tho count, "and because I appreciate it I will buy some of the young lady's pictures myself. You shall give me the name of the shop where they are to be sold. She shall also paint a picture to order for my house." "That's right good of you," said Tom heartily. "She's a nice girl, but deserves a bit turn of the wheel. But I beg your pardon for getting off the track of thejhouse; you happened to touch me on a spot right over my heart. What rent would you like to pay?" "I want to buy the house." "To buy it! That'll cost you something. You might get it at a reasonable rent, as the house is under a cloud just now, as I was telling yeu; but when it comes to buying, it's another thing. Property up there is rising, and I doubt you would buy tho house for less than it cost to build it—and that's not far off half a million." "Who owns the house?" asked the count. "It'll bo his widow, I think—Sally Matchin that was." "I wish to say no more than is necessary; but I must have the house for my own in any case. It is probable I may desire to make alterations in it. And if property becomes more valuable then I could sell it afterward perhaps." "Yes; that's true. You'll pay half a million, then, if it's not going for less?" "You will have the power of attorney; you can draw for whatever is needed," said the count, buttoning up his coat. "If you please, let it be done by tomorrow. The season is now near, and I wish to be at home this winter." "Very well. Here is the receipt for the ten thousand dollars. I'll say nothing about thanks, but I'll do my best to keep my end up. The power of attorney will be at your hotel for your signature this afternoon. I'll step over to Cartage Browne's office and see about the house before lunch, and here's the address of the dealer where the pictures are for sale. It's not far from your hotel." "What is your own private address, Mr. Bannick?" inquired the count. "It won't be long in the place where it is now," returned the Irishman, his eyes twinkling,-and indicating by a nod of the head the little pile of banknotes that lay on the desk. "I shall move this week, and give my wife and our friends the Ravens some elbow room of their own. But we shall be happy to see you, sir, wherever we are, and whenever it suits you. I'm in East Thirteenth street just at present." The count rose slowly. "I thank you; I will not incommode you until you are settled," said he. "It came to me," he added, with some hesitation, "that if I find the pictures of this yoiing lady to have merit, and I therefore decide to give her an order for one, it would be necessary for me to have a personal interview with her. Would tnat be > convenient to her?" "Indeed, then, I think it would!" exclaimed Tom with a chuckle. "And you'll find her acquaintance as well worth making as any girl's in New York." The count bowed. "And if," he added, "you should find any obstacles in the way of obtaining possession - of the house—any, I mean not with reference to the price—it would give me pleasure to wait upon Madame Trent. She and I could, perhaps, come more quickly to an understanding than through the medium of an agent." "It's .quite on the cards she may find a reason for seeing you," Tom returned, rubbing his chin; "but as for the money, I fancy she'll take it, so there's enough of it. However, you'll get a full report this evening." "Then I will detain you no longer," remarked the count, stepping toward the door. "Before you put on your gloves I'd wish to shake hands with you, Count de Lisle," said Tom, advancing with his hand outstretched. "There's four of us at least that you've made happy today, and if that's your custom all I have to gay is New York will be sad to part with you!" De Lisle took the Irishman's hand and gave it a powerful grasp. "I have had enemies," said he. "I have felt the hostility of the world. Now that I have power, it is my wish to make friends. Not to buy them, Mr. Bannick, I know how to exact the value of my wealth, when that is my cue. But 1 should be glad for a few people to feel that there is something in me to like and respect besides my money. It is a great deal for a rich man to hope that he may be thought of as anything except a rich man; it is a penalty of great riches. But I have ventured to hope it this morning." "And by George, you were right!" replied Tom, with tears in his eyes. "There's stuff in you better than evei came out of q gold mine. So good luck to you!" "To you ajjo," returned the count; and then the door closed, and he was gone. The rest of that day passed very pleasantly to Tom Bannick. He deposited hie ten thousand dollars in the bank, and then drew out one thousand dollars in the form of twenty dollar bills. One of these he presented to his office boy, surprising the latter out of cynicism on the spot. Th^r«uiaiuiog forty-nine he deposited in, toe. hjip pockets of his trouseva. He would iaie preferred the jingle of • After attending to the count's business ho walked to his tailor's and was measured for a couple of the best suits to be had. On his way uptown he stopped in at various emporiums of fashion and bought such things as a lady's sealskin coat, full length; a couple of dozen pairs of |ie finest silk stockings; half a dozen changes of ladies' cambric and silk underwear; handkerchiefs, gloves and scarfs in quantities to suit, and of quality extra superfine; and he came near buying a lot of bonnets and boots, but reflected, in time, that it is wiser to leave those mysteries to women. There being still a couple of hours before dinner, he visited a new apartment house above Madison square, and finding a handsome suit of a dozen rooms vacant he engaged them then and there. Returning home he looked in at a florist's and spent ten dollars in a profusion of rich color and fragrance, which he ordered sent to his address, and then home he went, with one twenty dollar bill in his pocket, a joyful heart, and a countenance studiously grave. He played the silent and serious role all through dinner; but not so cleverly as to satisfy his wife. "Seems to me you're very queer this evening, Tom," she said at length. "Don't you think so, Olympia? Is anything the matter, dear?" At that moment Tom heard the doorbell ring, and knew that his various purchases were beginning to arrive. "I suppose I ought to tell you, my dears," he said, addressing tho three ladies in a solemn tone, "that we shall be obliged to vacate these lodgings next week." Mrs. Bannick gave her husband a sympathetic look, as much as to say, "It's an outrage, their persecuting you so, but don't worry about me." Olympia said; "Perhaps I have money enough to pay your rent, Mr. Bannick. I'm sure I have!" "I can't stand this much longer," said Tom to himself. "Why don't they bring that confounded parcel up stairs?" But he compelled himself to shake his head and sigh as if all hope were vain. "I've spoken for other rooms already," he remarked. "Well, we shall feel more comfortable in some less expensive place," said Mrs. Bannick, with a smile that made Torn long to jump up and hug her. "Mamma and I have been thinking that we are able now to take lodgings by ourselves," began Olympia, "and" Tom could not have held in another moment; but just then the door opened, and in came the servant girl with a big paper box, addressed to Mrs. Bannick. "To me!" exclaimed that lady. "Why, what in the world—who can have sent me anything?" "Open it and let's see what it is," said Tom, thrusting his hands in his pockets lest, in his impatience, he should tear it open himself. Mrs. Bannick opened the box, unfolded some tissue paper and disclosed a magnificent sealskin cloak. "Oh, this is evidently a'mistake," she said. "The idea of my having a sealskin! But oh, how lovely it is I" • "No," put in Olympia; "here's a card pinned to it: 'To Mrs. Bannick, with the best love of— Why, my dear, it's from your husband himself!" "Hurray! Hal ha!" cries Tom, "it's all right, girls! The new rooms we are to move into are a palace! We're as rich as Croesus! I spent nine hundred and eighty dollars this afternoon, and here's the other odd twenty!" And springing to his feet he embraced first his wife and then Olympia and her mother amid a chorus of exclamations and questions and a scene of excitement impossible to describe. And before they could settle down to any sort of composure the bell rang again, and more bundles and boxes appeared, until the little dining room looked like a haberdasher's and cos- turner's shop. The four happy people talked so fast that you would have thought there were a dozen of them, and between the outbursts of admiration and delight at the new things Tom interlarded his account of the morning's adventure with the millionaire count. Finally the flowers arrived in two divisions, one for Mrs. Bannick and one for Olympia and her mother. "This is too glorious!" exclaimed Tom's wife, kissing him. "I couldn't bear another thing—tonight! Tom, you are an angel, and so is the count! What sort of a looking man is he?" "Oh, French style," replied Tom; "blonde, with dark eyes; a handsome fellow, Miss Eaven! He's a bit stiff in his manner, but that's only outside. We got to be quite chums before he left, tintl, by the by, I caught myself half si dozen times feeling toward him as if he were an old acquaintance, though I never met any one a bit like him before. I suppose all good fellows will be like one another, somehow. But it was odd, all the same." (To be Continued.) THE MOUNTAINS. -i.rili.iirr ( All through tho f ro«6n land we sped, Through ctittlngs whlto and marsh* drear; Through black plantations, grim and dead, And forest giants darkly sere. . , I The landscape fled and passed below, And gazing still, we saw no more ; Than one great cheerless waste ot snow, j An ocean with no farther shore; Until tho mountains rose aronnd, ; So sternly from the ley earth, ; And beauty, though rejected, found : A homo in her own very dearth. Cold they were, pride Intensified ; In every Uno so gaunt and grim— i A mantle and a pall of pride, j That lingered when all else grew dim. j Tho rocky heads all powdered o'er, And in the valley far below j A forest tangle, and once more ; A long and stainless slope of snow. t They seemed as mourning for tho peat, ', In hopeless mourning for an age So distant now, its records cast But mystery on earth's dim page. They seemed as frowning on tho eye < That arrogantly dared to read j The secret thoughts they laid so by, j And to such silence had decreed. They seemed as wrapped in voiceless scorn Too passionless to stop to hate, That anything of mortal born Should dare one thought to penetrate. : I met them, and I left them so, Still watching from their fortress white, Their cold, vast citadel of snow, To see the first approach of night- Longing to feel its shadows glide, And veil their grief and hide their pain, With eager longing, even pride, Though measureless, could not restrain. —Lilian Winstanley in Chambers' Journal. He Wants to Be Saved from His Friends. "Why do I keep my proposed trip to Europe so secret?" repeated a man whose circle of friends is larger than common to a person who had asked him the question. "Well, to tell the truth, because I want to escape being made a purchasing agent for a dozen or two of people whom I know. Whenever they learn that I am about to go abroad they overwhelm me with commissions of all kinds. One man wants a photograph of a certain tower of the castle at Heidelberg; another wants a peculiar kind of a match-safe, which may be bought at a certain shop in Paris; still a third is anxious to have a few London neckties, and others want umbrellas, sticks, opera glasses, cigar holders, jewels or something else. "It's a nuisance in the first place to buy these things, especially as you are likely to be in a hurry at times. Then when you arrive back in New York you are likely to have trouble with the customs officials, because your friends always expect you to get their articles in duty free. Besides, no one ever pays you in advance, and you have to go around dunning the people. To cap the climax, you often buy things that do not suit the persons who have asked the favor of you, and their disappointed looks or words make you feel unpleasant, to say the least. Consequently, having been through these experiences several times, I now keep my intended departure as secret as possible."— New York Tribune. ^ Preference of Cannibals for Chinamen. The black cannibals of northern Queensland are exceedingly partial to Chinamen. The reason is said to be that the flesh of the Chinese is peculiarly tender and palatable, owing to rice being their staple article of diet. There is now a numerous Chinese population in the north of Australia, and scores of them who have ventured beyond the confines of civilization hav« been captured and devoured^by the natives. This explains the nonchalance with whicbithe northern Queensland surveyor recently reported in these terms to the government: "The blacks have stolen all my provisions and 'sampled' two of my Chinamen."—Lon- don Tit-Bits. Fate of tho Turkeys. ; A certain parish not a thousand miles from Portland devotes one Sunday evening each month to what they term a "missionary concert," it being the duty of some of the church to keep posted on the progress of mission work, in the different countries and report the same at these meetings. A certain active worker whose study was the land of the sultan . electrified the audience by announcing one evening that "bis was a sorrowful report," adding, in all seriousness, "that the Turkeys had all had their crops cut off."—Lewiston Journal. BANCROFT, IOWA. Artistic work guaranteed. Pictures enlarged at reasonable prices. T. M. OSTEANDEE, Veterinary + Surgeon Bancroft, Iowa. Has his barn ready for tbc sick and lame horses, so bring them along. Charges reasonable. Phoenix House, BANCROFT, IOWA. Now running mule? new management Catarrh of the ears and catarrh of the Eustachian tubes often cause deafness. Catarrh of the stomach loads the stomach with tough phlegm and interferes with digestion. Catarrh of the gallbladder. obstructs the, outflow of the bile, which is absorbed into the circulation, and thus gives rise to jaundice. Catarrh of the bladder is a dangerous disease, from the difficulty of getting rid of the mucus. Waldless steel chains are being experimented with in England. The chains are cut from a blank after the same general methods employed in cutting cot a chain from a single piece of wood. As steel-is used, itis asserted that the weight can be reduced one-third from what was necessary in old chains ot strength. - S The largest yawl on the is said to be the Whitec feet over all, owned by Dr, J. T. Roth* rock, of Philadelphia. The Whitecap ie well known in Massachijsette hay, having been forr aerly owned by P. H, Rjce, of the Hull Yacht cluib. She was bottt ia Essex, and rigged first; m a schooner. Of the 11,0001,000 80joare«Bito(of AWoa, only about 4,500,OOQ*e»«i» which not been cJbtimed by some power, and more thjan half of this lies witirin tfiie descat of Sahara- The Yword,ra.Twliu comet from in Asiatic Turkey, where4t mi fJMpft time largely uianu&ctwed^wt; a* '