The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on May 24, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, May 24, 1893
Page 3
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THE UPPER DBS MOtNES, ALGONA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 24 1893. >.tfr 11 Sli 11 'bititttoh was gracious and ioncte Scending. She had gained some sort of sue* c&s in town last season, so could afford to' BT HUGH COTTWAIf, '4ut7»or of "Called Back" Eta, JSte. The Moment for departure came. Horace had taken the reins. Herbert was beside him. Frank's portmanteaus were stowed away In the big wagonette. He turned to shake hands with Beatrice. "I came, here an invalid In body,',' he said to himself; "I go away with a chronic mental disease. The exchange Is a sorry one." "Won't you come.with us, Beatrice?" asked Herbert. She drew back her outstretched hand, and hesitated. Frank turned his eyes away. He would in no way plead for this concession. Suddenly, and In a defiant way, which such a trivial matter by no means seemed to 'oall for, she exclaimed, "Yes, I will coine. Walt for me one minute." In one minute, literally, she was back again, In her hat and Jacket, and seated opposite Frank. Few words passed between them duilng the drive to tho station. A mere good-bye was all they said as Frank took his seat hi the train; but as that train rolled out of Blacktown, as his eyes for the last time met Beatrice's, fairly and fully, Mr. Carruthers' heart leaped in a .way which would have been a credit to a boy's of eighteen, and once more and forever ho knew that no vanity of his had led him to dare to think that In Miss Clausen's manner toward him there was an undefinable, inscrutable "something," which had led hlui to risk and apparently lose alL So "hope eternal" sprung again, and the conviction forced itself ou Mr. Oarrulhers that the day might j^mo when, In spite of his conclusion number three, he must perforce "grovel." And, notwithstanding his pride, this fact -was by no means an unpleasant one 1 CIIAl'TKU XV. A. DISPUTED CLATM. During the last three months of the year Hazlewood House did not belie its repute tlon foj calm regularity of Its domestic concerns and immunity from the many petty ills and annoyances which afflict less methodically conducted establishments. So far as could bo seen all promised well for a quiet, placid, and uneventful winter. Horace and Herbert employed themselves as waa their wont. They wero men who could spread out a little occupation over a large slice of time, so never found the hours hang wearily. Beatrice seemed fairly happy with her bright-haired boy. The little fellow was now beginning to prattle merrily, and his manner toward tlio Talberts was more audacious and familiar than ever. Altogether it looked as if nothing would occur to disturb the even tenor of life at Hazlewood House, until the budding hedges esco more brought round the usual spring cleaning. But,all undreamtof by the brothers.storms •were brewing which were to shake their house to the foundations. Christmas came. Now Christmas Diiy was a day on which the Talberts made great sacrifices for tho good of their fellow-creatures. Sylvanus Mordle, who believed that those in poverty wero as much entitled to creature-comforts as to spiritual consolations, always sent the hat round on Christmas, and collected a special fund for the purpose of giving all his very poor people a hearty dinner. At this dinner the Talberts were his henchmen. No one who knew their fastidious tastes could have seen them carving huge joints of sanguinary-looking beef or serving out sticky segments of plum-pudding without feeling sure that, at heart, they were thoroughly good fellows, Herbert did once plaintively ask Mordle if the meat need be quite so red. The curate chuckled. "If it wasn't red, they'd say'twas American,aud leave it," lie answered. It is to be feared that experience had taught Mordle that charity is often looked upon as a right to be demanded, not a bounty for which to be thankful. It was no doubt the terrible sights of the forenoon which made the Talberts rigidly taboo, so far as their own table was concerned, all conventional Christmas fare. As Horace gravely'said, there is, to educated minds, something savoring of vulgarity in supposing that the celebration of a certain holy-day must be attended by the consumption of a certviin class of comestibles. So their dinner consisted of clear soup, fish, a brace of birds and an omelet. " \Vi; never thought of Beatrice," said Her- bertjieuiteutly. "Beatrice might have liked roast-beef and plum-pudding." . But' Miss Clauson did not yearn for Christmas diet. Moreover, her thoughts were far away from eating and drinking. Indeed, •during tho last three months the girl had boon, even for her, strangely quiet and thoughtful. As for a little while longer we must bo contented to regard her from the outside only, her musings cannot be divulged. To-day, no doubt, she was thinking a great deal about an' impending visit to her father's house. Horace and Herbert had urged it earnestly. Not, as they kindly and truthfully told her, that they wished to lose her for oven a day. Hut it was well that tho world should think that the Clausons wore a united family. It is curious what a simpleton most people thin!: tho world, uiul how easily they fancy it can bo taken in. Beatrice consented to be guided by her uncle's advice. So on the day after Christmas she left Oakbury. Sir Maingay and his family were wintering in London. It is surprising tho number of respectable families who do winter in London, Sir Maingay met her at Paddington. The baronet looked a littlo rounder and a little moro commonplace than when last she saw him, lie greeted his daughter affectionately but told her she looked ill and careworn, Then he inquired for Horace and Herbert. As from the very first clay they had kept Sir Maingay in ills proper place, he looked upon them with the greatest respect. "Is it true they have adopted a child?" he asked. Some garbled version of the affair had reached him. "No," said Beatrice. "I have." "You, my dear I Adopt a child I Why, it is timu you thought of the possibility of having children of your own. I have for months been hoping to hoar you were engaged to be i::arrifid." ••I shall novi'r marry," said Beatrice, rather "D -|>.niiil a;ion it, it is the best state," said Sir Mitingay uagoi !y. Then he started off on tin 1 , subject of tho precocity which Beatrice's little half-brothers displayed. How the elder snid this yesterday and the younger did that day before—a record of individual but not j; ••: T.I! iill'T-'.St. r-:i\ j nst iii'foiv i hey reached his house, Sir jSiituiji'ay muUu u moro notable remark. "I rindo tho acquaintance this week of a y-,\i,£ ivl.uive v.i' your poor mother's—a Mr, (' ii-nii.!;i.T.i, \vlio \v;.., staying with you some time ago. Ltohl ;;".:n you were coming up and he promised to call." it was growing dusk, so the flush that :to\M_iss C'nison's cheek was unseen. ut-uu\v«jf a minute, then she gaid qultfly. "We should like to see you in private,'' Said the woman, glancing ronnd the hall. So be so. Nevertheless, Beatrice was In various w&ys shown that she was a stranger within her father's gates. The little boys were brought down to see her dressed In their company clothes and manners. They were good, ordinary, uninteresting .little fellows, and no doubt Miss Clauson contrasted them with a golden-haired pet of hers at Oakbury. Although the ladles were civil to each other they did not sympathize. Like many others, Lady Clauson was utterly unable to understand Beatrice. "Never, if you can help it, marry a widower," she said to a bosom friend. "No one can tell the anxiety a first wife's child Is—no one who has not experienced it." "It must bet", said the friend with great feeling. 1 "If she did not always dress so carefully," Continued Lady Clauson sorrowfully, "I should believe she had made up her mind to be an old maid, 'and might then do something for the boys. She has more money •than any young girl should have." Oarruthors called; Carruthers dined at Sir Maiugay's. and moreover, presuming on his distant relationship. Carruthers had the audacity and, after all that had happened, we may say. humility, to escort Miss Clauson to an afternoon classical concert. Since last October Frank had a thousand times pictured this meeting with Beatrice and a thousand times settled how ho would deporthim- fleit. The result wastnatho rorgotau nis self-training and bore himself simply as nature prompted him. Ho was earnest, tender, respectful. Moro than ever he felt the charm which the girl exercised over him, yet ho dared not speak again of love. In his inner heart ho knew that for well or ill ho must some day re-say those passionate words—but not yet. The second cast of the die must, should be, the last. His nearest verbal approach to love-making was this:— Ho told Beatrice he had received a letter from Horace begging him to spend a few days at Oakbury before the Lent term began. "It is a great compliment," he said. "Yes," answered Beatrice, "very great. Are you going?" "That is for you to decide, not for me." • She dropped her eyes and was silent Frank waited. "Do you forbid it?" he asked in that authoritative voice which women love to hear with a man. Still she was silent. Ho repeated the question. "I have no right to forbid it," she said. "You have every right. We do not allude to the past, but we do not forget it. Look up and answer me. Shall I go to Hazlewood?" Strange to say, lie spoke in a commanding way, such as he had never before displayed when addressing her. Perhaps she liked him none the less for it. With an effort she raised her eyes to his.. "It is most unwise I" she whispered. "Unwise you mean for me, of course," he said quickly. "That part is for me to decide, not for you." She held out her hand impulsively. "We can be friends, Frank," she said. "Always," answered Carruthers. "And now wo may as well settle to go down together." To this she made no objectiou.and Frank's love-making ended for the time. His dreams that night may have been pleasant ones, but as for Beatrice she sat for hours in her room gazing into the fire with a pained, hopeless look on her face. The little line which Frank had once noticed between her brows seemed to have grown deeper and more distinct. If Carruthers had hoped for a great deal from that journey to Blacktown, lie was doomed to bo disappointed. Events occurred at Hazlewood House which took Beatrice back in hot haste and alone. One morning Horace and Herbezt were in earnest discussion respecting a hip-bath, the paint of which showed signs of wear. The question was whether it should be sentto the auctioneer's and sold for the best price, or should bo re-japanned. Herbert, who was given to temporizing, favored the reparation. Horace, who was more thorough in his ideas, thought it should go atonceto the sale-room. The matter was so important and interesting that neither of the brothers heard the sound of carriage wheels outside of the house. 1 The wheels were those belonging to a gig, a genuine, unmistakable gig. Whittaker, who saw it come up the drive and stop at the front, not the side door, was much disgusted. He did not know the traditional respectability enjoyed by the driver of a gig. Ho drew the line at dog-carts. Sylvanus' tricycle was only borne with because it carried a clergyman. The gig in question was driven by a man who dismounted and helped to the ground a woman with a good-tempered looking, shiny face, and who was dressed in refreshingly bright colors. One of them rang the bell timidly, and after a befitting interval the dig- 'nified Whittaker condescended to open the door. The man asked if the Messrs. Talbert were in. This collective stylo jarred upon Whittaker, who had been in the family long enough to remember the time when "Messrs. Talbert & Co." was a well-known form of address. lie replied that Mr. Talbert and Mr. Herbert were in, but at present engaged. "We will wait until they can see us," said the man. So Whittaker let them come into the house. They wiped their feet on entering so carefully and thoroughly that nil doubts of their being persons of any importance were at once set at rest. Whittaker felt lie was quite right in offering them chairs in the hall. They wore too respectable to be left standing, but the gig and the feet-rubbing combined showed they were not to bo ushered into the drawing-room. "What name shall I say?" ho asked. "Wo are strangers," said the man. "You can say we have called on private and confidential business." "You had better give me your name," said Whittaker, "Mr, and Mrs. Rawlings," answered the woman. So Whittaker went up stairs, found his masters, and told them that a Mr. and Mrs. Eawlings wanted to see them on private and confidential business. "Rawlings," said Herbert with a shudder. "AVe know no one with such an awful name. Who are they, Whittaker?" "I have no idea, sir," said Whittaker. As his masters adjudged the name horrible, he felt halt offended at it being supposed he knew any one named Rawlings. "Where are they?" asked Horace. "In the hull, sir." Whittaker felt thankful he had not been tempted to give them sitting-room honors, "Whittaker," said Horace, gravely, "we shall be extremely annoyed if you have let persons come inside our house who are book- hawkers, or, worse still, those who try to buy up second-hand clothes, as these people say they come on private and confidential business." However, they put their eye-glasses up, and went down to the hall and confronted their visitors. They found a woman whose philistinio attire set their teeth on edge, and a pale-faced man with rather prominent light blue eyes, and a weak-looking agitated kind of face. The brothers wondered mightily what these people could want with them. "You wish to speak to us?" said Horace, suavely, Although they kept persons at a distance as long us possible at arm's length, the Talberts were always polite and kindly spoken. wjl you please, sir," said the main. HOJ> Herbert opened the drawing-room door, and ii..»~it M P «n*A.i titel/la "Wrtw tlipn." Raid they all walked inside. "Now, then," said Horace, encouragingly, "what can we do for you, Mr. Rawlings—I believe that is your name?" • , . "Yes, Sir," said Mr. Rawlings, drawing out a pocket-book, and handing Horace a card, on which Was printed, "Rawlings Bros., Purveyors of Fortt, 142 Gray Street, London." Horace shivered. He felt very angry. Pork," he said, "is a meat we never touch." Then he mentioned to Herbert to ring the bell. But Mr. Rawlings interposed, "I didn't come on that Sort of business, sir. The fact is, I have heard that some time last year a child, a little boy t was left at your house, sent from no one knows where. Is this correct, gentlemen?" "It is quite," answered Horace. He was sorry he had misjudged the man in thinking him a touting tradesman. "But why do you ask?" he added. The man grow visibly excited. "Mo and my wife," he said, "have strong hopes that the little boy is one we lost, or had stolen from us more than two years ago." The brothers' faces were perfect studies. That two people like this should lay claim to Beatrice's boy was simply absurd. "Impossible I" they ejaculated in one breath. "Don't say impossible," said Mr. Rawlings. "We may iiiid our little boy ; at last; we have been hunting about all over England for foundlings such as this. It may be this one la ours." "Why should It have been sent here?" "I can't tell, sir. But I won't leave a stone unturned. May we see the boy?" The situation was growing ridiculous, and If the Talberts disliked one thing more than another it was a ridiculous situation. The best way out of this one seemed to be that Mr. Rawlings should see the child and be satisfied it was not his missing offspring. So Horace rang the bell and desired that the little b*y should bo brought down. Mrs. Miller, the nurse, upon receiving instructions to this effect, imagined that her charge was to bo shown to visitors of importance. So she quickly put on his best garments, and made him look very cherubic. He trotted into the drawing-room a cabinet picture of childish health and beauty. Rawlings looked at him with excitement In every line of his face. His lightbluo eyes seemed to be starting out of his head. "Maria," ho whispered, hoarsely to his wife, "look at him. The same hair—the same eyes. Maria, is not this your boy? Answer mean d thank Heaven wehayo at last found him." The wife looked at the child, but did not answer dt once. "It is—I know It Is," said the man. "Tell them so, Maria," "I hope it is;" said his wife. The Talberts on hearing this looked stupefied. The case was assuming undreamt of proportions. Dimly they saw that this re- cognmon meant strange tnmgs. "My good man," said Horace, "you are making a complete mistake." "Oh, no, sir—-no mistake. How can a father be mistaken? Oh, my pretty boy—my-long lost Iambi Come to mo and give me one kiss I Come to your father!" He shot his arms out so vehemently that Harry was frightened, and instead of accepting the invitation ran to Herbert, and hiding his face against his leg set up a howl, which brought in Mrs. Miller, who at once whipped him away. She had strict instructions from Beatrice never to let the child become a nuisance. Horace and Herbert with arched eyebrows sat staring at their visitors. "We may take our little boy back with us at once, sir—may we not?" asked Rawlings. "Certainly not," said Horace. "You have not given us the slightest proof it is your child." "But It is, sir. I know, and Maria knows It is." "Tell us how it came here. Until you can do that we cannot admit your claim for an Instant. It is absurd—you must bo mistaken." "Absurd I" echoed Herbert. "Tell me whoso child itis, if itisn'tmino?" retorted the man. "Do that and I will go away. I don't care how it came here. I know it. I recognize it. It is my poor lost little boy, and I will have it." The man grew more excited than before. Horace was intensely annoyed. He turned to the woman. "You seem to have some sense," he said; "do you claim this child?" She glanced at her husband and tears sprung into her eyes. "Yes, sir," slits said, "1 believe it is my child." The situation grew worse and worse. It was well for the boy that he had made such friends of Horace and Herbert or he must have been sacrificed forthwith, if only to rid the house of his self-styled father and mother. As It was the Talberts temporized; they promised to consider the matter for a few days, and let Mr. Rawlings know tlio decision they might come to. Mr. Rawlings wrote on his business card the name of an hotel at which he was staying, and having again and again asserted that ho would not be robbed of his refound son, at last, to the unspeakable relief of our friends, drove away in his gig., Never had Horace and Herbert been placed In such a difficulty. They sat stroking their beards for at least half an hour, but could see no way out of it. The arrival of the child on that evening of last year was as nothing compared to the present dilemma,. Then, had they chosen to use it, there was at least a short cut out of the difficulty; now there was none. The more they thought, the more improbable it seemed that these people could bet the parents of the boy. And yet the man at least asserted that it was so, as if the matter was beyond doubt. The belief that the child was "some one's" child still clung to both Horace and Herbert. It seemed, moreover, an absolute insult that the child of such persons as Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings should have been sent to Hazlewood House. Why should they have been chosen out of all the world to have this child foisted upon them? Why did not the unknown sender return It to its rightful home? The whole claim was a mistake; whether willful or accidental, it was a mistake. Fond as they had really grown of the little boy, the Talberts were far too just to think of wishing to keep him from his legitimate owners; but they had no intention of surrendering him to the first claimant. Besides, what about Beatrice? what woul<f she say? Beatrice, to whom the child seemed as the apple of her eye. Bitterly they blamed themselves for ever having yielded to her request that she might keep the foundling. But what was done, was done, and could not now be helped. Horace wrote to Beatrice by the next post. He told her that some persons had called and claimed her boy. The whole thing, he said, was a great puzzle to him and to Herbert. They had deferred their decision for a few days. If possible they would do nothing until her return. Beatrice was alone when she read that letter. She turned deadly pale and seemed to gasp for breath. Then she rang the bell and ordered her things to be packed. At breakfast she quietly told Lady Olausoa that she found she must return to Blacktown by the next train. She gave no reason for this abrupt departure, and her sudden deterwina* tlon annoyed Lady Clauson Immensely. Sir Maingay sftid nothing. His dftugt»te_r b.a.4 long ago snown him she was entire ini of her own actions. "Mark my words," said Lady Clauson a? soon as Beatrice had departed; "that girl will some day do something which Will disgrace the family." "Oh, nonsense, toylove,"saldSirMaingay, who had now been married long enough to find out that his beautiful wife was not all his fancy had once painted her. Beatrice reached Hazlewood House quite unexpectedly. The Tnlberts wero out, so the glrlranftraighttotho nursery. "Where Is my boy?" she cried, so vehemently that she startled Mrs. Miller, who knew nothing of the purport of the visit paid yesterday. The boy was flicro all safe, and Miss Clauson, without removing her outdoor garments, hugged and caressed her pet until she was told that her Uncles had come in. She went to them at once. They greeted her in astonishment "Waat have you done about those wretched people?" She asked, quickly. "The people who claim my boy, I mean." • "My dear, we have done nothing as yet." "You will not dream of giving him up?" "I hope wo shall not be obliged to." "Listen, Uncle Horace," her cheek flushed as she spoke. "I will give him up to no one —no one at all." - "I am sure, my dear Beatrice, yon will bo entirely guided by us," said Horace. "Of course she will," said Herbert, kindly. They must have been sanguine men, as the set of Miss Clausen's brow did not promise well for her submitting t« guidance of any kind. "I shall never give up that boy," she snid in a firm voice, "until the person Who claims it gives every proof that it Is his. I would rather run away with him and hide myself." Horace looked extremely shocked. "My dear Beatrice," ho said, "It grieves us both to hear you talk so wildly. The child is a very nice child, but you speak of it as if it wero of our own flesh and blood." Beatrice did not reply to this; but the upshot was that the Talberts promised to write to Mr. Rawlings and say that they held his recognition of a child not seen for more than two years insufficient proof that it w:is his own, and in the absence of further evidence declined to entertain his claim. After this Beatrice left them, and for some time they mourned over this new and startling phase of demonstrativeness displayed by one of their own kin. Two mornings afterward, Horace opened a letter addressed to him In clerkly writing. Ho read it and it seemed as if his jaw was about to fall. In silence ho handed the letter to Herbert. Herbert road it, and his face reflected his brother's emotion. One glance passed between them and they know tha they wero of ouc mind. Horace turned to Beatrice. "Beatrice," ho said in a voice solemn ns the grave, and in a manner decisive as the laws of the Modes and Persians, "that child must be given up." She shiricd, but before she couldspcak she heard Hi.'rluTl's echo, o<|!y solemn and decisive: '-r.L'iitnw, t,,mU-hild must, be given ODDITIES OF NOTED PEOPLE. A PEOPLE'S PARLIAMENT. Oceoutricitlos of Mou Whoso Shine In History. Xainos wcdcs up.' Secretary CORN FOR .FOOD. Morton Advocating the Cereal for tlio Table. SecTclury Morion is doing some active propaganda work In extending the use of Indian com for Iranian food. "I believe," he said, "that, our own people, as a rule, do not appreciate the value of our grout American cereal and its extraordinary adaptability for food pin-poses. The variety of foods which cau bo prepared from it is extraordinary, and it: seems to me that no matter how many years a man has been using corn In various ways for food, he is constantly learning of-,some different form which is new to him This vari ety in the food preparations made from corn is a very important item, for everybody understands that a, variety in the form of foods is essential to the maintenance of a. healthy 'appetite. "As to the value of corn, it has beon claimed by good authorities that one pound of parched Indian com or an equal quantity of com meal made into bread is moro than equivalent to two pounds of fat meat. It lias also been'' found that, owing to the combination of alimentary compounds which are found in Indian corn, it is capable of sustaining man for a longei time than, any other cereal during a period when other food, such as. animal food, ttc., are not available. A careful comparison of tlio analysis showing the mean composlton of various cereals was made a short time ago by the chief chemist of riiy department, with tlio result that he awards to maize a very as a food, anil ho adds that this conclusion is supported by long years of experience. He. says: 'Whether to bo used as a. foot! for producing muscle, for labor or as a means for fattening animals, it has been found to bo of superior value to any of the other cereals produced In the United States. 1 '1As -regards its introduction into Europe," he said, "its heat-producing qualities seem to make it especially adantable to the wants of people of cold'cllmatos and, moreover, it has beer found to lie remarkably well adapter to mixing with rye, barley and otliei cereals grown' in those countries, al though the corn itself cannot be ripened there. Tills fact, however, inerelj serves to emphasize the importance to the Amehrican corn-producer of seeming the use of corn by the people of those countries. I nm convinced that if such measures are pursued as to bring about a thorough understanding among the peopjles of northern Europe of the characteristics of corn, of its real yal- ue as a human food, nothing can prevent a steady foreign demand for the food^'«vlucfs of American Indian corn. Tills Hviix iaise the price of corn on an average of at least 5 cents a bushel on the farm during a period of ten y%rs." TO DESTROY DERELICTS. r 7rhe recommendation of the international marine conference that met in Washington in 1889 that a steam vessel be especially fitted and adapted for the purpose of destroying derelicts, like many another excellent suggestion, has received no attention from congress. This vessel, when fully equipped for service, was to be attached to tb,e navy department, which was to direct its movements. It Is much, to be regretted ttot a vessel o* th|s Wnd fc put George TV. was fond of low practical okos, says the St. I/nils Globc-Domo rat, and on one occasion came near voiug thrashed by a companion whom 10 pushed Into tlio water. Hcrschol. tli.o,£,nstroiiomoi-, had been player in a -Prussian roglmenltil band, ml often, in his old age, sot his noigh- >ovs' tooth on edge with a hautboy. Pennants, tho great, traveler, hated >vigs, and got Into innumerable broils vy .snatching oft the head covering of jvcry man lie mot who wore n wig. The groat painter IUiz/A filled his unise with all sorts of animals and aught hLs raven to cry "Come in" when there was a. knock at the door. Quezon Anno- of England was extremely fond of brandy, and her face bo- :!umo so bloated that among the jwpu lace she was known as "Brandy-Faced Xau." Both Pope and Campbell wore ac ciisloinod to ring for pens, ink and ton at unreasonable hours of tho night that (hoy might: record Iho thoughts that occurred to them. Cowpor loved pets and had at one tiiivo, tlvo rabbits, three hares, two guinea, pigs, a. magplo, a. jay, a starling, two canary birds, two dogs, a "retired cat'' and a .squirrel. Coleridge found a .solace for his troubles In tho fi'ix'otJv.lluess induced bj opium, and when under Its iutlueuci would sit: for hours threading the dreamy infixes of his own mind. Mo/.art always kept, his note book in his pocket, and while walking 01 playing billiards, his favorite amuse incut, would often .stop to ;|ot down i melody that occurred to him. Macaiilnly took his Sunday diiuioi alone at, a coffee house. After dhmet he would build a pyramid of wine •SSOM, which usually toppled over Ho would pay for the broken glass am go. Diocletian after his abdication spcn his leisure In gardening. "If you couU see the cabbages I raise," ho said h a deputation, "you would not ask mi resume the crown." Kant, the German philosopher, was- fond of walking, but was so fearfu of contracting some infectious disoasi -lint he always walked with his lip: closed and his handkerchief over 111 lose. Sheridan spent his leisure In maim i'acturing clever repartees and I'linu and after golug into company would lead up the conversation to point which they could be worked of is impromptu. SUWUITOWS, the Russian general, wa fond of jewelry, and always carrle about: him a bag of unset diamonds:Vt night, when seated by his camp fire, he would take them out and enjoy their brilliancy. David, the artist, when not painting, amused himself lijy scraping an old fiddle, which he did abominably. He would insist'oil playing for every visitor, and often exclaimed: "Oh, if I had only been bom a violinist!" Byron's household, according to Shol- lojy, consisted, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, live cats, a crow and a falcon, and all except: the horses went to and fro In the house at their pleasure. Turner, the painter, would, Saturday )i'.>lit, put ii £5 note in his pocket, dress lii'nisolf in a suit of rough clothes, and disappear till morning. After his death it was discovered that he spent tho intervening time in carousal at a sailor's drinking house. Emmanuel Bach's favorite diversion w'as organ playing, and on more than one occasion at church service he forgot himself and played so long that the Moving for Universal frnge. Sur- Whilo the whole world has heard inch about tho movemet for universal utl'rago in Belgium, a similar move- lont of much more remarkable feat- ros has matured almost unnoticed in ,\vcdou. lu the middle of last month people's parliament of 130 members lot. In Stockholm to act as the repre^ out at IVOR of more than 1,000,000 >wodish moil who- are not allowed to oto for regular candidates. 'I'Jio people's parliament, contains hlrty workiugmon, Iwcutv-iHp jourml- sls. twenty farmers, twenty-one artl- inns, seven sliop-kwpors. seven school oaoliers, four preachers, three clerks, wo lawyers 0110 musician, and one fe- nalo editor. Four of its members are iipiubcrs also of the regular parlia- neiit. Tho groat: majority of members Iciiiaud the privilege of suffrage for very male Swede of 21 yon re or more. V few mombei-s, conspicuously the oue 'oinalo editor, Miss Hathou, favor grant- ng tho privilege of suffrage to nil Swedes, men and women, of 21 years >r more. Tho people's parliament, will conduct ts proceedings mid will be renewed [HM'lodlcuHy by elections on the Hues followed, by the regular parliament. Its efforts will be confined exclusively, lowevor, to promoting the cause of nanhood suffrage. At present the parliamentary electors In Sweden number Duly about ISOO.OOO, as all men having taxable incomes of less than .f200 each annually are excluded from the frail- chi-so Some time ago the lower house of the regular parliament passed, by voto of 174 to 70, a qualification. The plan was to make the minimum of the taxable annual income which would qualify the possessor to vote $125 lustead of $200, and thus increase the number of electors bly about 180,000. Tho measure, was rejected by the upper house by a vote of 75 to 51. This refusal of the upper house to sanction even a moderate reform, of the laws applying to the suffrage caused radicals and socialists to renew their agitation on the linos which have led to the choice and meeting of the people's parliament. ANCIENT NAME OF AIN. GHEAT BHIT- Tlevud lArcheologique:—Tlio oldest form of the name of Great Britain is Ortanis, from which comes the adjective Ortaulcos, which In Irish is Cruit- ncch. This last is the uamc which the Irish gave to the Picts, once- masters of Groat: Britain. Tho adjective mentioned became*in the language of the Gauls Protaiiicos. Pythcas, the Greek navigator of Marseilles, who nourished iibout the time of Alexander the Great, nnd is said to have, made a voyage to Britain, in one of liis few fragments now extant, calls Great Britain tho Protanic island. A century after Pyth- eas, a Gallic people—the Britanni— drove the Plots out of the large portion of Groat: Britain, and established themselves there. From this came confusion in the minds of Greek geographers between the name of the con-' querors and that of the conquered Island. Out of this confusion arose various and mixed forms. The Pretanic island became Brctanule, and then Britannic, which form became fixed, and has come down to us. preacher, who was waiting to begin his sermon, was forced to send a mes- seuger to him to oblige him to stop. Beethoven was fond of bathing, and, while doing so, would splash the water over the floor so that It ran down jinto the i-ooms (below. AVhil'e composing ho would howl and groan In tho most dismal manner, so that the neighbors complained, and he was frequently obliged ou this account to change his lodgings. THjE SPIDER'S HNEM.X. A Fly, Gveeu In dolor and Wasp- shaped, Leisure Hour:—A writer gives an Interesting account of the ichneumon fly of Ceylon, the natural enemy of the spider. Tills insect is green in color .and In form resembles a wasp, with a marvelously thin waist. It makes its nest of well worked clay and then goes out on a hunting expedition. Its victims are iuvariaby spiders of various kinds, but all are subject to the same mode of treatment. A scientific stiug injects some poison which effectually paralyzes the luckless spider, who is then carried off to the nest and there fastened with a dab of moist clay. Another and another victim is brought to this chamber of horrors. Then the prescient mother ichneumon fly proceeds to deposit her eggs, one in tho body of each spider, Avhich can just move its legs in v.ague, aimless manner, but can offer no resistance. This done, the fly returns to her work as a mason. She prepares more clay and builds up the entrance to this ghastly cell. Then she commences a new cell, which she furnishes in like manner, and closes; then she adds yet another cell, and so proceeds til her store of eggs are all provided for, and, her task In life being accomplished, she dies, leaving her evil brood to hatch at leisure. In due time these horrid little maggots come to life and flud themselves cradled in a larder of fresh meat. Each poor spider is still alive, and his juices afford nutriment for the ichneumon grub, till It is ready to pass into its chrysalis stage, thence to emerge as a winged fly, fully prepared to carry out the of; }^s «acestora TROLLOPE'S .REMINISCENCES , ^ Visiting Bellano after the earthquake, we were taken by our guide to a handsome Palazzo belonging to one of the patrician families.of the place. It was built in tho Venetian stlyle, with marble pillars and staircases, and, a, central hall from'which the living rooms opened. The house still stood, although in a ruinous condition. Beneath one side of the hall ran a range of stables, tenanted by some fine horses of which tho owner was extremely fond. On tho night before the earthquake those animals kept up a constant stamping and pawing, the noise echoing through the corridors. More than once the head groom and once the muster himself wont into the stables to see what might bo amiss. The horses wore in a strange and unaccountable state of agitation, bull they could discover nothing else. In what way the coming convulsion was convoyed to their senses who cau say. For these dumb beasts evidently had a knowledge of it, denied to man. Sheriff Robert Ladd, of La Crosse, had an exciting time near Beaver Dam with a prisoner whom he was taking to Wauptm to servo a three-year term. When a few miles west of Beaver Dam the sheriff got up to get a drink of water. The prisoner had complained of the handcuffs hurting him, and the sheriff had taken them off. The prisoner ran to the other end of the car and jumped from tlio train, which was going thirty-live miles an hour. He ran down the track some distance into a marsh and got mired. Conductor Castle stopped the train, and he with the sheriff pursued the prisoner. Conductor Castle got mired also and the sheriff and prisoner helped him out. The train was backed to -where the three men were and they were taken aboard:" Sheriff Ladd proceeded to handcuff his prisoner and the train again started e>n its journey. There is nothing I have ever used for muscular rheumatism that gives me as much relief as Chamberlain's Balm does. I have been using it for about two years— four bottles in alias occasion required and always keep a bottle of It in my home. I believe I know a good tiling when J get a hold of it, and Pfltn Balm is the best I ever met with. W- P- New

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