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THE UPPER J3ES MOtNES, ALGQNA* ••••MiM^iaaJai— -— Z^l— -ji^j^^^.'?^^_^r*_-*^ WEDNESDAY* JtTLY jfo tggjj*. MADCAP; —OR— - ! STORY OF A SIN. BY HELEN B. MATHERS. 0 mammy l" he crieci, nis eyes wan- over her head t'o the open win- p dow beyond; "me quite forgot-us is go- cowsipinpwiz 'oo; lots of time lor fi,™ ery; (here thread ' ma ' am < totne nur *your daisy chains weave your cowslip balls, ami bs hap' i "4,?, d , s "PPosmg I would rather stay herer 1 " she said, twining an unwilling hand about his neck. "Besides, you- you'ye forgotten something!" "What's that?" lie said, looking with cold and grudging eyes at the little mouth ,, , tllc """rod smilo ot youth, DM lljrlit outward its own sijrlis: "to wish you more years in which to see me grow old? Tour babies have done that. To kiss you? It was Madcap that I used to kiss— and she's gone; it's a body without a heart that perches so , „„, „..„ said, the red of her pressed to the warm white af his neck, "I want to hear them." Perhaps the mail who believes in nothing receives no greater shock to his unbelief than when ne hears his child lisping out at its mother's knee— Pity my simplicity, Toticli mo how to come toThoo. He would be less than human could he detach those little folded hands, cloud with doubt that innocent mind; as he listens he must surely put himself in the child's place, and, for one brief moment, believe. "And peese Gawd, don't send daddy 'ome till we'se bin cowsiping, 'cos cow- sips is nearly over, Amen," concluded Body; adding in the same breath, "0! look at that little boy in your eyes!" "Is 'oo going to ky?" he said, in wonder: then, spying a brown mole on her beautiful neck, and thinking that it was something that hurt her, he leaned forward and pressed with devout faith his tender lips to it, "to make it well." as she had now and again done for him in his childish aches and bruises, and for want of which he had so often cried himself to sleep. "Madcap!" said a stern voice behind them; and they turned aghast to see the master of the house looking with a frown of strong disapproval at the group. "Off with you!" ho said, glancing from one child to the other, for Doune had just reappeared, bearing his brother's clothes; but the one stood motionless, his brows drawn into an absurd reproduction of his father's frown, while Dody, made desperate by vanishing joys', actually dared to nod his small head gravely at his father, and remark— "Us is going cowsiping wizmnrnmy!" "Next year, perhaps," said Mr. Eyre, dryly, anil pointed to the door with a gesture that neither child dared resist; they ran to each other, and not daring even to pause and kiss their mother, clasped hands and tottered down the corridor, sobbing b.uerly as they went. "Good morii'ii:.". ma'am!" said Mr. Eyre, with trencaant emphasis, as the sound of those little footsteps died away, and still Madcap had not advanced a stsp to meet him. "Good morning, sir!" she replied, wiping a tear away with equal spirit. "Anil pray." said he, "is that tear due to my absence, or my return?" "To neither." she said, sitting down hv the open window, and looking up at tlie pale sky as if she sought and found her children's faces there. "So that's over," said Mr. Eyre, as he lonsL-ned his riding-cloak and threw it aside. "What is?" said Madcap, looking round. "No more than I can make shift to live without," ho said, as he sat down at some distance, and stooped to unfasten his spurs. "What could that have been?" said Maclean, the mother in her eyes dwindling to two specks as she insensibly approached him. "Only a sweetheart; not much when you get a besotted mother iu her place; and'then for the husband to object to he sunk in the father of a lino family— what folly 1" And Mr. Eyre detached a spur with a viuor worthy of the thought. "Itisabeautifulciiaracter—a father," said Madcap, shaking her head gravely; "but somehow—somehow you don't seem to fit it!" "Not I," he said, grimly; "such folly is for mothers, not men." "Yes," she said, sitting down opposite him: a young light shape with bare arms crossed lightly' on its knees, and upon brow and lips something lovelier far than the childish dimpled beauty so clear to lover's heart; "for mothers, like mo. Have yon ovf r thought of it; that I must love them because—because I am their mother:"' He turned and looked at her keenly, for the first time in his life consciously regarding her as the mother of those mere unconsidereil trifles that he called his children. As idolized sweetheart, wife, friend, and the little wild Madcap who, in electing to dance through life to the tune of hia own sober footsteps, had come to him to Fill nil the slops of life with tuneful breath, lie knew her well; but this motherhood —there was to him nothing lovely or sacred in iu on tlio contrary, a fierce pang smou' him as ho realized that his sole, mi'livUl-jd rinht to her was gone, and thai others hail as great a claim upon her as himself. lie snatched her in his arms, as though by sheer force he would keep hor still; then put her from him, and heavily, with the fires of lovo suddenly grown chill in his eyes, turned away. "There—go," ho said. "Forty years of my life I managed to live without you; the rest of my existence, as I told you but now, I'll eke out somehow." For a moment she shrank from him— from this selfish virile love that swept aside all, even duty, in its course; then with an instant recoil of feeling, the woman's heart thrilled to the man's ex- a9ting devotion, and she approached him softly. "Love has no second place," she said; and could you live without me?" she added, all the mother gone, and the sweetheart's airs and graces in full blow, "Indeed I could. It's living with you, and taking a second place, that I won't endure." "You might do worse," said Madcap Badly, and uplifting to him two such sweet mirrors of fatherhood as a man might look ju and iind himself euno- Wed, not dethroned. "And better," ho said. "For instance, he might breakfast " and he opened the door as he spoke. His will carried him across the threshold; but ilesh and blood is sometimes stronger than iron, and somehow Mr. kyre found himself led back to a chair while Mailoup, in a more accidental way, sealed huraulf on his knee. "And pray, ma'am," said he coldly, What do you do here?" Ol I'm used to it," she said, nodding, as she chins* to his coat lappel to save UerseU from slinping from the ungracious support afforded. "Precisely," |jo said. "Mere hahi-b^ fluty—what you will—not a spark of real 1 "" 1 --•'- ' " ' ' woulcj do, as confidently on my knee." " " Is it?" she said, suddenly clasping two round, young arms above his ebon head; "then— then kiss me as a mother!" For a moment he did not stir, only looked hard in her eyes, where bit by bit he saw himself as detested parent disappearing, and the lover growing, in his own proper form; then as their hearts rushed together, their lips met in such a kiss as suspense had quickened into heaven. "And you will love them a little— for my sake?" said Madcap, wistfully, as he released her. "No; you for theirs. And for me, Madcap— for me— Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And lovo me still, but know not why, So hast thou tho same reason still To duto upon inc ever." CHAPTER HI. Ills certain iife that never could deceive him, Is 1'uil of t'lonsaiif] sweets nnd rich content; The smooui-leiiv'd ueec-hes iu the lleld receive him With coolest shade till noontide's heat is spnnt. His life is neither toss'd in bolftorous sens O'or the vexatious world, or lost in slothful case: Pleas'd and full blest ho lives, when he his God ei\:i please. Two little faces—one tear-stained, the other proud and angry—at nine o'clock saw tho hurries led to the door, and Mr. Eyre came out leading his wife, who was laughing at something he said, and somehow forgot to look up at tho casement and kiss her hand to the children as she passed. She remembered them too late, and then but lor a moment; her husband filled memory and landscape alike, ruling her every thought, and carrying her back to those days when, deprived of his company, she had tried to live without him and nearly died of the attempt. The momentary coldness of the morning had in its recoil drawn them but the closer, and something of that yearning sense OL love being before, not behind them, rode with them as they went, and gave to the life around that subtle touch which brings the lowliest blade of grass equally with God's noblest handiwork, into sympathy with the heart's content. There are moments when memory quickens and becomes a living joy; the mere hue of a llower seems to say, "Do you remember?" and the note of the bird to cry, "Have you forgotten?" when a sound—a scent—is as a word spoken by one to another; when if your beloved bu at your side, in fancy you clasp hands and go back together to the remote beloved past; and when—ah, God!—if you have lost him, but not by death, he comes to you living and real as the grass at your feet—your very own, as when together you plucked the flowers that look up at you with clear eyes that remember both you and him. Strange that the past should have such power over us, turning our present gold, as it were, to dross—dimming the sunset hues that point to a bright tomorrow; reaching out to us from the darkness like a clear dead hand to hallow our living joys, as the good ship that lies at anchor casts far beyond her on the waters a silvery track of light that she herself shall never traverse. Mr. Eyro's heart exulted in him as he bared his brow to the air, "nimble and sweet," and looked around—Madcap, honor, fame, riches; all these were his —and what lacked he? Life held not one joy that he coveted, or did not hold in the hollow of his hand, and through the gathering years he saw himself as now, for love is immortal, and Madcap was youth, and with the twain ever at his side he might defy age. He had never before counted up his treasures thus—whence, too, came this odd sense of power and mastery over fate that swayed him as though ho were unused to sovereignty, and must take the braggart's loud pitiful uride in it? Dear to him were those peaceful breathings that, ascending from the village below, spoke of duteous toil, followed in its turn by grateful rest. Not a sight or sound met eye or ear but spoke of happiness in the past, of sure coming peace in the future. Content was he to dwell amoncr clods, so he might share the clods' noble portion of air, sky, and earth. "A sweet without a snare—a pleasure that brings no pain—to sow and plant in hope, waiting in the rainbow promise that harvest shall never fail," lie said, thinking half out of his own mind, and half from a well-loved book. "And there are those who pity us, Madcap— who smiled at this 'rich attendance on our poverty,' and who would beckon us out of our' content to the feverish delights that would please you about as well as a jewel would in comparison W lle turned aside to pluck a pale earthstar, louelv, belated, seeming to shrink within herself from the too vivid, voluptuous lii'e around; for they were pass- in" just then between hedgerows sparkling through spring showers-hedgerows upon whose'banks the season met aud clasped hands, the bright young beauties of a month ago standing braye- lv up in their faded smocks side by side with the bold, gay new-comers, about whose skirts the breath of early summer clung. And these wistful eyes, that seemed to say, "I)o not pass us by because we wear so happy a mien, but wither us for the sake of the yesterday m which we and you were so happy, and that perhaps will have no morrow," are Madcap's so that it was a tiny, knot indeed that at length she placed m her are pouring out that triumphant, throbbing joy "What were you thinking, Madcap?" said Mr. Eyre, struck by something in her face. "That if I were not happy, such a song as that would break my heart!" She was trembling violently, and though he caught her in his arms, she trembled still, then sat erect, and passing her hand before her eyes, gazed around. "What was it?" she said. "Something — some one— and yet I saw only you — alone— hating all the beauty on which you looked because I was not beside you!" "Tint's true enough," said Mr. Eyre; "not a twig, leaf, or blossom pleased mo on my way home this morning; all I saw was Madcap at the end of my ride, and I found - " "Something that could think of you. not them, if- — " "And so you are to die in spring, Madcap," ho said, as he held her close, "and, like Sir Thomas Overbury's milkmaid, have good store of flowers to cover you; well, you'll let me creep under the same coverlet, I hope — but no, not even for you will I submit to be made ridiculous. Two sculptured lovers weeping under a willow-tree never inspired me with anything but disgust; they ought not to have died— had they wilkd to live they must have done so." "But. before now, lovers have willed each other to die, "said Madcap, dreamily: "and all-for love!" ''No— for jealousy," said - Mr. Eyre; "and what a man has reason to be jealous of, is not worth killing— he should equally scorn to harm, as to detain her." "And so you could not be jealous?" said Madcap, some of the old color and mischief stealing back to her pale face. "Not I! Do you mean to try me?" "Look!" she said, as if in answer; and they turned on the brow of the hill, and together gnzed clown on the vast woods of Lovel spread out below— woods upon whose brown surface the young green had encroached little by little, like the sea upon a coast set thick with little islets nnd promontories, till at length, growing bold, it had overspread all, and now lay pulsing in the sunlight— a tide whose ebb and flow bore mysterious whisperings with it, rising at moments to a song more sweet and human than ever yet was reached by ocean's lullaby. "It is like a bird's variations on the one note that he has by heart, and expresses so perfectly," said Madcap dreamily, her eyes fixed on that exquisite green. "And do you wish him back?" said Mr. Eyre, looking keenly at his wife. "Indeed L do!" she said, looking toward the distant turrets that rose gray- ly out of that shimmering light. "Not a day passes but I think of him— poor Frank!" "And do you think he has stayed away these six years on your account?" "I don't know,' said Madcap, turning her head aside; "only you see I was Frank's first, his only sweetheart!" '•And that is better than being a man's last," said Mr. Eyre. "And why not first and last?" said Madcap, that spark of faithfulness iu her eyes which, once lit in a woman, from however unworthy a source, is quenched but with her breath. "Might not two people love each other in youth, and grow to each other in middle age, "And yet you stayed away an day and last night," said Madcap, as they left the high-road for apart of Mr. Eyre's estate that he rarely visited. "0! a mere matter of business; it won't detain me again," he said, carelessly, as through an open gateway they Itorlo under proves that looked a paradise Of blossom, over sheets of li.vncintli That seemed the heavens npbrouklng through the earth; for high above them closed vast apple- boughs, now all coral and white with blossom, while at their feet the hyacinth of her million bells had woven a carpet of azure across which now and again a bird swept low, as thinking that in seeking earth he had chanced to light upon heaven. From overhead the busy coil of winged life struck out a faint aromatic scent, penetrating as the wild, far-oil sweetness of the blackcap's note. To an exquisite rhythm ot sight, sound, and scent Madcap seemed to move as ahe passed down that long arcade, silent, yet no more dumb under her dwlight than is a flower whoso language is her breath, or a stormy sunset who speaks living words to us by its hues. Mr. Eyre was no longer by her side, but he was close at hand; and there UPS the soul of a woman's rest or unrest, whether the man she loves be within her reach or beyond it—and Madcap did not miss him as she went, counting her treasures upas poor mortals will, when all unknown to themselves the first quivering shaft of disaster threatens them. "This apple-blossom looks well for the crops." said Mr. Eyre to the farmer who had joined him. "Well, sir, there's the late frosts yet; and Providence don't usually take much 'count of farmers." "I suppose Providence is not responsible for all your gates being open," said Mr. Eyre, who had en joyed tho ride through half a mile or so oC uninterrupted orchard, but blamed the carelessness that had made it practicable. "It's just that old Busby," said the farmer, scratching his head, "ho must ride through here instead of by the high-road; he's scouring the country about the 'modal for the poor soul up at th' jail, and every unborn babe in the parish must sign it, or he'll know the reason why." "Have you signed?" said Mr. Eyre, looking at the man keenly. "No'," said the man, sturdily; "the woman drowned the child, and an ounce of fact is worth a pound of talk. Whether th' feyther was up at th'Tower or elsewhere—I beg your pardon, sir," he acldded, stumbling in his speech; "and to be sure, you wero married to the young mistress then; but somebody she come to look for in this village, that's certain, and who else could it be but the von us lord?" To be Continued. HAND Of THE MtTRDJERlER. Men TPho Tnlie life In Coltl Blood Detected by the Thnmb. Has the murderer a distinctive hand? M. Desbarolles, a Frt,nch servant, who made the hand his study, was emphatic on that point, says the St. James Gazette. The murderer, he was convinced, is known by the thumb, nnd to this thumb he gives the name of pouce en bille. Desbarolles remarks that the faces of the murderers may not, necessarily be repulsive, but that the hands are always hideous — self-condemnatory. Evidence on tha latter characteristic is but scanty, and rests upon the investigations of the French chiromanciuts, but as to (he forniw it is a fact that some of the most brutal uiurderH on record have been perpetrated by men whose countenances habitually wore a mild expression. Williams, the murderer of the Marrs, it is^aid, had n singularly soft voice. A girl who knew him, giving evidence at his trial. WHS asked by the prisoner whether she would bs afraid if she awoke from sleep and found him standing by her bedside. "Not if I heard your voice and knew it was you, Mr. Williams," was her reply. Mr. Scott, chaplain of the prison in which Deeming was executed, says the murderer was a pleasant OTTK NATIONAL. BIRD. I love to see you so," said Mr. Fvre "with a simple llower in your luuid' a. d vour hair with only its own '"it to view it by. After all, what is everv ornament with which a foolish womaninks to adorn herself but an imitation of those natural ones that a "" AiKniow^iiuch less beautiful!" said Madcap, lookinsr up to a. gold-crested wren who sang at ease, swinging amidst the yellow tassels of the hazel: while, I'lrdbv as if in mockery of the tiny creature's soulless splendor, a russet thrush poured out his song-the careful thrush who The first fln oarolew rapture, d whose song, when we are happy, is flSonTof ouvowfl hearts, audit is ana grow 10 eacn ouiei in miuuio UKC, till at length they toddled down the steep incline more in love than ever?" "As you and Prank might have done?" said Mr. Eyre; "and now I come to think of it, yon seemed to love each other very much. That box on the ear, for instance " "He had been worrying me," said Madcap, hanging her head, "and so I got on the ladder to count the plums." "And ate six," said Mr. Eyre. "I reckoned them as I stood atxthe bottom." "You came three hours before you were expected," said Madcap reproachfully; "and who would have thought of your walking straight to the kitchen garden?" "You came down backward," said Mr. Eyre, smiling at his recollections; "such a young shape, and such a slim foot and ankle, I wished the descent had been twice as long; and half way down you stopped, and said you would stay there till doomsday unless I promised not to try and kiss you." "And you promised," said Madcap, jogged by memory into fiercer blushes than the actualities of lii'e had caused her these live years. "It sounded just like Frank's voice; but when I turned round and saw you—why had you got that look on your face; 1 she cried, stopping short to laugh. "Of course I boxed your ears—who could help it?" "And so my acquaintance with Frank's sweetheart began," said Mr. Eyre, thinking of his friend. "Why did I go?' he added, as one thinking aloud. "I loved the boy, and I suppose loved you for his sake before ever I saw you." "But when did you begin loving me for myself?" said Madcap, coaxingly. "Let me see," he said: "was it when you tucked your skirts round your ankles and walked out of the room on your hands?" "Yon had no business in the schoolroom, nor Frank either," cried Madcap, ashamed. "I had forbidden him to come there; and—and how do you know it was I, after all? No one could positively swear to another person's heels!" "And, when next we met, you walked demurely and wore boots," said Mr. Eyre, gravely; "yet I could have sworn to those shoes as the very same that I had seen twinkling down the ladder. No—I did not fall ia love with you then." "But perhaps you had done it already?" said Madcap, saucy, though abashed. "Perhaps," he said; "and you?" "You were so old, so grave, so—so respectable," said Madcap, looking away. "Do you know, I was so amazed •when I heard that you had the reputation of being—wicked." "Did Frank tell you that?" "Frank! No; it was Lady Betty." "And what did you say?" "That it must have been so long ago. I wondered people hadn't forgotten it!" "Did I seem such an old fellow to you as that Madcap?" said Mr. Eyre, laughing. "0! yes," she said, gravely; "you see Frank and I were HO dreadfully young —and two of a trade never agree!" "And so, as I was old, the tales of my Wickedness did not trouble you?" "No," said Madcap, very low; "only —when you staved away so long—sometimes they would knock hard at my ears to be let in; aud when Lady Betty screamed out, 'He's got another sweetheart; he'll never come back' I began to say to myself that I was to be punished just as I had punished Frank." "No," said Mr. Eyre; "others may suffer, but you never sliall. It was our first parting; would to God," lie added, \yith sudden bitterness, "that J might never have left you fpr an hour -'-4-Via mATnoni* t-Hn.fi WA ni'Rii nflflli 1 ** An Appropriate Emblem fur the Tip of our Fluff Staff, It has been proposed lately to ornament the tip of the flagstaff used in the regular army of the United States with the representation in metal of the bald eaple, which is the emblem of our republic. The staffs of regimental standards DOW terminate with pikes. The e-igle has already done duty in this way upon the standards of other nations, and particularly upon those of Rome and Prance. The American eagle, however, is of a different variety from the eagle of France and the Roman republic. It is of an American variety— the "bald," or white-headed, eagle. The ordinary name of the bird is a misnomer. It ia not bald, but simplj white-headed, the feathers on the head and neck of adult specimens being snowy white. The honor of first naming this bird as the emblem of the United States belongs to John J. Audubon, tho naturalist, whose namn will be for over associated with our bird life. He called the bold eagle the "Washington eagle," because, he said, "Washington was brave, as the eagle is. Like it, too, he was the terror of his enemies, and his fame, extending from pole to pole, resembles the sowings of the mightiest of cue feathered tribe. If A raer- ica has reason to be proud of her Washington, so has she to he proud of her great eagle." The bald eagle, with wings extended, or "displayed proper," aa it is called in heraldry, was made the emblem of the United States in the year 1785. Benjamin Franklin did not approve the choice. The bald eagle, he declared, was a very evil-disposed bird, who would not earn an honest living, but got his livelihood by violence, deceit, and rapine. He did not consider such a creature the worthy emblem of a people who hid gallantly driven out of their country all kingly birds of prey. Franklin's critical judgment did not prevail. It is tine, as bo declared, that the buld eagle lives chiefly by violence and theft, swooping down upon the osprey, nnd snatching 1 from this industrious bird tho fish that it has just caught. But the eaele, on occasion, can t-ike fish out of the water with great skill. The eagle is, moreover, a bird of dignity, as well as of bravery and beauty, and its strong attachment to its ycung and to its homo cortainly recommends it as an American emblem.—Baltimore Sun, to -speak to until crossed, and the man's influence over women certainly supports this statement. Some of the medical authorities who examined Dceming's bands declare his broad thumb indicated the born murderer. But tho drawing which has been published is not that of tho pouce en bille. The true pouce en bille, or bald- headed thumb, an it might be termed in English, gives to tho first phalange a round bulbous appearance. It is short, and the nail is so abbreviated as to suggest that ifc has been gnawed. It is embedded in the flesh which rises on either side ami extends beyond it. In tho drawing of Daeming's thumb tho bulbous swelling is carried below the phalange, and the nail is level with the tip, but. those differences msiy be due to the inaccurate observation of I he artist. Deabaroltcs examined the hands of many murderers, and in all he f"und the pouce en bille. He also discovered other signs. The fingers of Armando Pnilippe, who committed an atrocious murder, wore bent toward the loft side, and tbe linos of the palms were of a deep red, as though they had been dipped in blood. Tiie fingers, especially the second and third, were spatulous at the tips, and the noils, short and ugly, were buried in tho flesh. Lemaire, who murdered his father and throe other persons, had crooked, spatuloua fingers, and the pouce en billo, but on one hand only. Du- mollard, a wholesale murderer of the first rank, had a hand remarkable for its thickness and length of palm in proportion to the fingers, Thia abnormal length oE palm, according to the rules of the science, indicates intense animalism. Dumollnrd had a significanb sign, common to most rnurderero— namely, the almost entire absence of lines in the jialm. save the three principal— tho • lines of life, head, and heart. "These lines were very strongly defined. The line of the bead—the center line extending across the nalrn—was violently cut by the line of life, running upward from the wrist. Chiromaoy interprets this to foretell a violent death. Desbarolles noticed ifc for the first time on the hand of Lemaire, and eight days afterward saw it on the hand of DumoDard. The fingers of the latter were uneven and knotty at the nail phalanges. Tbe hand of Dumollard indicated inflexible will, avarice, and absence of moral feelings. Troppnmnn, another wholesale murderer, had nothinc particular about the shape of his hands. Indeed, they -were almost elegant, but then as M. Desbarol- les remarks, he was not born precisely for crime. Still the palm was dtficieiit in markings beyond the three principal lines, and he had the fatal Hign of the scaffold. Troppnmn's hand was also distinguished by an abnormal development of the Mount of Mars—in other words, a thickening of the outside edge of the hand. His fingerb were fat, and he committed murders for gain, becnu5e, as M. Desbarolles philosophically puts it, of his determination to be comfortable at any price. Lacemure, another notorious malefac- A SECOND WIPE. A Clever "Male Impersonator" Foolu Clergymen Whenever She Tries, One of the strangest characters of the actor's colony of New York is Miss Annie Kindle, a "male impersonator" invaude ville performances. She baa led several clergymen in her time to make her the husband of some pretty and demure young woman. As late as June 26 she was married to Miss Louise Spangehl by Rev. G. 0. Baldwin of Troy, N. Y. Rev. Mr. Baldwin of course believed Annie to he a man, foi she was dressed and looked like one. It appears thut she has three times been married. Once she was a bride, twice she has been a groom. Once she had a husband, twice she had a wife. Once she was a widow, once she was u widower; now she is a husband again. Annie Hinclle was born hi England and •went on tbe variety stage when a child. She early developed fireat cleverness as a male impersonator. In 1868 the was married to Charles Vivian, an English actor, in Philadelphia, and she lived with Lira, but a short time. He blacked her ey_es too often. After Vivian died, his widow, having hud enough of men, de- cidfdto marry women thereafter. So hi 1886 she married Ler dresser, Aniiif Ryuu, in Detroit. Miss Ryan died a year or two ago, after a h ppy life with her woman husband. Miss Hindle did not reappear on the stage until some a oaths after her wile's death, Then she accepted several engagements, and it was during' one of these that she met Miss ftpangehl, whom ehe has Juet married. A oubio tor, had large, spatulous fingers, a long palm with the lino o£ the head cut in two,' short nails, and the thumb absolutely en bille. Serreau and Brouillard, who murdered a woman in the Rue (Jlichy, had hands of a similar pattern. Muller, the murderer of Mr. Biiggs, possessed the pouce en bille, the finsera crooked, and an absence of Hues in the palm. He also had the omnious scaffold mark in tho severonca of tho line oE the head. Th« hands of Mullius, the Stepnoy murder, was soft, and the fingers crooked. He had the pouce eu bi'.le, but rather longer than usual. To sum up, the signs of tho murderer's hand are: Firstly, the pouce en billa, S condly, and only less important, the thickness of the Mount of Mars at the edge of the hand, from which flows the blood direct to the brain at the slightest motion and canwes fchg man to "see red." Thirdly, the scaffold sign. Fourthly, the preserce only in the palm of the three principal lilies, occasionally reduced to two, and almost always roducod to a bright ecarlet. Fifthly, crooked fiagers with spatulous tips, the nails small aud uneven. According to tho rules of art, therefore, a murderer if a murderer by disposition and not (as in most cases) by accident, ought to have a hand with all or nearly all these characteristics. their work, they pull the drill about the field in response to the commands of the man at the handles. , In some cases, instead of using the pole, (wo ropes are attached to the drill, and the cooley beasts of burden take the ends of these lines over their sholders and plod over the fiielb. Backward and forward they go, just like hors?s, and apparently as contented with their lot. Certanly in no other part of the United States is such a sight to bo seen.thafc of human beings voluntarily taking the place of work animals. When the Mormons founded Salt Lafee city and populated the country thereabout the working of women in the field was couimen, nnd c <: ea until a few yeais^ago many an old Morinen could be seen front the cars driving a heard of his wives hit* ched to a plow like oxen, and like them staggering under the yoke, receiving but his curses if they stopped to rest. The in* flux of Gentiles has, it is supposed, put an end to this inhuman treatment of the Mof* mons' female slaves. In some older countries, where the poor* er classes are downtrodden and animals are scarce and fodder dear, such conditions still exist, though even there they are fast becomming rare. In Holland women, aided or hindered by dogs, are compelled to draw canal boata, while their lords or masters sit complacently on the boats snicking their pipes, removing them only to yell at their beloved and admired helpmates if they lag in their heavy tusk. In tho north p£ Germany women are compelled to do similar work to that of the coolies in Alnifda county and hitch themselves up wi'.h horses or cows to bo driven cither by othrr women, who change off to give the first a rest, or by th«ir fiushandg who consider that their position is at the "helm,' 1 ami never change. In the north of France women can still be sefm harnessed in carfs with dogs dragging the products of the fiald into market, but this is becomming extremely rare, though formerly oE common occurence. The fellahs of Egypt are the only other class of degraded human beings that are forced to do the work of beasts and the only men so employed, and they probably have the hardest time of it. They arelstiU compelled to draw the primitive plow, made of two wooden sticks, one of which serVes i or a handle and the other pointed down into tho ground. But in thin hind of plenty, where animals of all kinds are in abundance an,d cheap and the fodder for thorn can be raised at a nomial cost, it is indeed a peculiar thing for Chinese even to consider themselves cbeapur than beasts; audit is all the mare astonishing that this should occur but a few miles'.Cram S'in Francisco and^n a country of fertile and very remunerative fields. It is difficult to understand by what idea of economy the Chinese see an advantage In employing their own fellows "after the manner of boasts of the field," but it probably has its basis in the fact that in China men do about all the field worlr. Bat, tr ere thuy have no farming machinery and few horses and all the work is dome by hand.—San Francisco Chronicle. • A. WOMAN'S HANDS. She Uues Thorn Very Differently From tlie Girl of Sixteen. There is nothing so great and indication of maturity as the way a woman uses her hands. She has out grown the period when hands and feet seemed only to have been bestowed to continually remind her that she was iu possession of something she positively did not know what to do with, and as a reault she to sitting upon her pedal extremities and awkwardly burying the other obtrusive members in the folds of her gown or behind her back when anyone was present. Somehow, even when dressed in her very best for some festive gathering in the neighborhood, tho mirror would persistently return a reflection that was very suggestive of hands and feet rather than of a pretty white gown and a smiling, youthful face above it. In later years before .full womanhood was reached'the feet were brought under control, hut the hands still needed a handkerchief to hold, o fan to wave or a parasol to carry. They were not at eiise when empty, but when at last the bud blossomed into the lovely rose then at last came rest for the hand-i. The pretty members could hang listlessly graceful at her side or emphasize with easy gestures her sprightly conversation. The woman of twenty-five had gained the repose that the girl of sixteen lacked, and nowhere is it shown more plainly than in the action of the hands, for though in motion they have lost the nervous and hesitating manner that showed the self-conscioness ot the novice, which in latter years is swallowed up in the assurance of a woman of the world. At a mapquerade not long ago a plump aud pretty woman assumed the costume of a pea--aot girl. Her little fe* t, Uim ankles and little girlidh figure gave everyone the impression that the fair mas-leer was indeed a girl in her flcHt youth until a gentleman, who was watching her attentively, noticed the movement of her pretty childish hands. "She is not a girl," he cried, "but a woman of twenty- four or five at least," and thus it proved, for when the masks wire removed the peasant girl proved to be a gay young matron nearer thirty than twenty. HUMAN BEASTS OF BURDEN. pi pewly Man Chinamen Hitched Up as Homes iu Parts of California. An astonishing sight has been presented recently to observant travelers over the narrow gauge railroad to SivntaCruz while pasfiner through the p;re.tt murk-it pardons near Newark, in Alameda county. It is nothing more or lobs than the utilization of Chinese luboic'ra ns beasts of burden, und of their own volition, too. Along tho railroad near tho station mentioned bands of coolieti have rented large tracts of laud for tUe purpose of raising vegetables for (ho Sin Funcifico market. For the past few woek* Ghinet>o have been engaged ia pi uiting beats, onions and other vegatables, using largo drills in doing tho work. Iloi'itts have usually been 001& loyed to nail tmv-o drillc, bat hero the hiuoso luuoior* hubstit.atf thfimoives for the UBUH! heiuii* of burdoji, hitch thumsel- selves up iu their stead, and are by another coolie guided like ''dumb driven oatilo." Tlialorpo boed drill somewhat resembles a plow. It has handles like that implement, aud from **-** -—- -*"-- J ! " — Dou't Uo Iu Huste. To break off an. old and tried friendship. Or contract a now and doubtful alli- To give advice without being asked for it. To spend your salary in advance of earning it. To make bve to more than one woman, at a time. Deliberation is the great preventive of a ieputable business to misery. To give up dabble in politics. . To bluuie your children for following your Lad t simples, To tale part in the difference between your niegbb:irs. To ooarrel with your wife because she eriticfet-jcur fruits. _ . To give up a -afe but ploudtng business for a bubble spBoulation., To uccflpt the scandalous stories you hear concerning other people. Oc with your husband because he doesn t tell you everything he knows. Or with your s.wtfttheart because she tre Us other gent|erne4 wuh oourtewy. Or with yotjr Jgye because he nuses laye-uiakin#.