Evening Star Newspaper, May 25, 1878, Page 2

[For Tie Star. THE PHONOGRAPH BY DR. A. W. ADAMS. ‘As the all-absorbing topie of the day seems to be Phonograph, its construction, workings, and conjectured future, I have ventured to | choose this certainly very int ingtgpetive theme se tee mmeiewe It will not be my object to give a de‘ailed account of the construction of the phonograph, for that subject has long since been exhausted in the various monthly magazines of the day; but to bring before you in as concise a manner as practicable a few of the more prominent successive steps which have led to its discov- ery, and also to bring to your attention the fact that Mr. Edison's phonograph, wonderful as it is, is simply an improvement upon an instrument the existence of which has long since been known to professors and students of natural philosophy, although not tothe gen- eral public. In none of the departments of science within the last few decades have there mo such rapid progressive strides towards perfection ashave been made in these two, viz.: Sound and electricity. Probably it would be difficult to attribute any particular reason for this other than a mythical one, such, for instance, as would have ages. to the effect that the gods presiding over these two elements, who had lain in a quiescent state in their undisturbed realms above for centuries past, were now suddenly aroused to the importance of instituting an activity which would so intluence the human intellect as to eguse it to make discoveries of hidden mys- teries which would place the subjects over which they had dominion in an unrivalled position amongst the long eategory of wonders, Tt is strange, but nevertheless true, that there exist at certain wregular intervals in the world’s history what might be appropriately s yled eras of invention or di ery, during nent discoveries are re- are! id. Many facts, were it within the domain of this article, might be cited in support of this assertion. The researches which opened be the present field of discoveries were instituted about forty- s ago. They resulted in the discovery, Page, of M the fact that musi conveyed for a limited distance by electricity. He based his hypothesis upon the observance by himself of the emission, froma soft iron rod, of a peculiar sound or click, which oc- curred at the time of breaking a current of electricity which was then passing through the longitudinal axis of this ron rod. ‘This was occasioned by a molecular movement uced a change in the length of the the bar was created a magnet, by passage of this current of electricity, it elongated about 125,000 of its length: and when divesied of this electrically-created magnetism, by suddenly breaking the cireuit, it resumed its original length: and synehro- nous with this pechliar molecular change came forth Prof. Page's characteristic click. It isto Prof. Henry that we owe gratitude for the knowledge of this alternate elongation and contraction of a soft iron rod upon the passage through it of an intermitted electrical current. Prof. Page's discoveries, however, reached no degree of perfection under his own hand, and his work in this direetion was sunk into oblivion, not to be resurrected until the year 1851, when Philip Reiss, of Friedrichs. dorf, Germany, began investigation where Prof. Page left off. He ushered in the di phragma ic system of invesugation, by utiliz. ing a diaphragm which would receive sound waves as an armature to mike and break an electric current. And thus virtually created the germ which has led to the recent discov- eries. Long before this, however, the character of sound was thoroughly investigated ; its degree of velocity was accurately measured ; the con- stitution of a sound wave was studied; the number of vibrations per second neces for the production of the various mu: tones was determined. and the limits of audi- bility were ascertained. In all this series of gation Helmholtz figured coaspicu. multaneous with all this came the promulgation of the theory that articulate sounds were caused and accompan by the expulsion of air from the mouth, causing im pulses varying in quantity, pressure, and in the degree of suddenness with which they commence and terminate. The wext step then to be accomplished was the construction of an instrument by means of which this uld be proved and the supposed observed. This was first accomplished by Konig, Lis- sajons atd others, who worked on the princi- ple of reflected light, and produced an iustra- ment similar in principle tothe one by means of which we now receive “electric Hashes” from across the cable. Konig’s instrument ES a zigzag outline which represented he sound vibrations. He was followed by others, who invented more perfect instru- ments, to which were given the name of pho- nautograph or phonograph. These were able to very accurately record these impulses, or vibratory movements of the atmosphere. By means of this style of instrumenta series of sounds, whether simple, or (when repre- senting articulated sounds) complex, ree be graphically Ss prereed upon an endless strip of Paper, in the form of a tracing consisting of an irregularly curved line, resembling some- what in appearance the tracings produced by the sphygmograph, an iastrument by means of which the exact character of the pulse beats are graphically recorded. The great difference between the tracin: | aap ages by this instrument, and that create: y the phonautograph, is in the regular inter- vals at which there occur elevations and de- pressions; and the cause of these is the alter- nate expansion and contraction of the arterial walls, to which this instrument is intended to be applied. The variations in the tracings of this instrument will, therefore, be attributa- ble to the degree of quickness, uniformity, or Paps peste of the heart's pulsations. Whereas in the tracings created by the phonautograph, the excursions of the traces are great or small from the base line (which represents the quiet membrane.) accordiug to the force of the im- Ru , and are prolonged according to the uration of this pressure, different articulate sounds varying greatly in length as well as in their intensity. Farther, another great differ- ence in them consists in the relative abrupt- ness of the rising and falling inflections, mak- ing a tracing consisting of curves of various shapes, even or irregular, with turns acute or obtuse, according io the peeuiiar sound to which their existence is attributable. The smoothness or ruggedness of a sound has then its own graphic character, indepen dent bo'h of its actual intensity an Again, in the tracings produced by thisinstru- ment, the elevations and depressions of the irregularly curved line, are produced by and correspond to the force, dura‘iot nd other characteristics of the vocai impulse. There was as late as 1574 a still more delicate | egpey sono invented by Alex. Graham ll, of Cuicago, and Dr. Blake, of Boston. In this instrument the membrana tympani of the human ear was used. But the peculiar style of phonautograph to whieh I particularly wish ‘o call your atten- tion, is one which was devised some time be- fore this by Leon Scott; and which is, in point of ae. the ex exempiification of the Edison phonograph ; and, as regards physical properties, its exact counterpart. A model of this instrument has for some time back been lodged on one of the she'ves of a case in the Smithsonian Institution at Wash- ington. So great and striking is the similarity between it and the phonograph. that now, since that marvelous instrument has excited such wide-spread wonder, numerous visitors may be seen daily, standing with a great de- ee of satisfaction before the case containing it, Supposing themselves to be viewing the wonderful \alking-machine. This instrument consists of a square plat- form, from each side of which arise stand- ards, which support an axis possessed of a serew thread, and which passes through a brass_cylinder, precisely like the one used in the Edison phonograph, with the exception that it has noendless or Spiral groove cut upon its surfaces. The axis, also like the one used in the Edison machine, has upon one extren ity a large balance wheel to regulate its mi tion, and upon the other a crank, by means of which the cylinder is revolved: or, this may be replaced (as specified by the inventor) by a clock-work movement, arranged to produce uniform rotation. { will here cal! your atten- tion to the fact that Mr. Edison, likewise, pro- to substitute a clock-work movement lor the crank, with a view to regular move- ment. Arranged in front of, and in close prox- imity to the brass cylinder, isa t: eone- large shaped mouth-piece, open at its large end and closed at its small by a thin animal membrane which is stretched more or less by means of three screws. Behind this membrane there is a delicately adjusted lever or marker, the short end resting the membrane, while the long = which is inserted a style, plays upon the cylinder, which is covered by paper coated with a thin carbon film. Thus any quivering or vibration of themem- brane, which is stretched across the small end of the cone, as the result of sound waves crea- ted before the large end, is recorded by the marker the cylinder in the form of a tracing, h has ali 'y been described. At the time of the invention of this instrament “Uits future was undetermined, and it was con- sidered to be little more than an acoustic toy and apparatus for the lecture-room. Some of the anticipations were, however, that it would be possible toso connect the style with elec- trical devices, that its executions, both as to distance and eer. might be repeated at any distance by the telephone cireuit; or, the instrument might be made to operate a type- writer, and so the spoken words might become # record. printed in orainaxy At will be observed, therefore, that the con: struction of this nt anticipated the existence of the tele hope. But they had Se Tey itil ears ni mess of an instrument ould. be the greatest wonder of “tee miorenes gentury. Ag instrument which would, when been propounded in the dark } length. | perfected, revolutionize everything and stir the entire civilized world into wondrous amazement. And all this as the result of an improvement upon an old instrument in which was involved the undeveloped prin- eiple,and which would throughout the few modifications in its construction, retain its neral characteristics. The modifications consist ply in the insertion of a seeing. less > rangement than the mark- Some ita Pd Rddition” of ‘an endiese nr spiral groove cut upon the eyiaaer, and the substitution of a soft indentable covering for the cylinder, in the place of the carbon film. When there could be produced a plane of these very same Gece which only repre- sented its profile, the elevations and depres- sions of which would simply represent the ris- ing and falling inflections of the old phonauto graphie tracings; and by simply allowing the stylus to retraverse these tracings, which, in- stead of being recorded on paper are im- bedded in tin foil in the form of indentations and elevations arranged in a furrow, the diaphragm could be again thrown into anal- ogous vibrations, and thus reproduce the vi- bratory waves first created before the mouth- piece of the instrument. And so is constituted the long-looked for talking machine, which, instead of endeavoring, like Prof. Faber’s machine, to imitate the source of sound, would adopt for the principle of its construction the effects produced by sound. I say they never dreamed of this, but left the instrument in its crude and almost impracticable state, to be improved and perfected by that wonderful grates of the present age, Mr. Thomas A. ison. It will, therefore, be seen that the phonauto- graph or phonograph simply recorded sonor- ous vibrations, whereas, Mr. Edison's ma- | chine not only records, but reproduces these same sonorous vibrations. And strange to say, he not only copies the pattern of this in- strument, but he also adopts the same name, although it is inappropriate and inadequate to express the scope of power possessed by his instrument, which, in view of the fact that it both records and reproduces sound- waves, should be called phonographthephem and not phonograph, which is derived from two Greek words aud simply implies a re- corder of sound. : Mr. Edison, in speaking of Mr. ventor of the phonograph, s deuce didn’t he think of s of tin foil for his carbon film Mars’ Little Moons. THEIR INHABITANTS MUST BE FEEBLE AND INACTIVE, | [Prof. Proctor, in Belgravia } Probably the most convenient assumption we can make is that there may be creatures in @ general respect like ourselves, on those moons of Mars, but that, owing tothe extreme | rarity of the atmosphere, their vital energ: so far reduced that they are not more active | than we are, despite the feeble action of gra’ ity intheir world. The air must be exceed. ingly rare, most certain'y, even if the quanti- ty 18 proportioned to the volumes of these moons. On this assumption the qu: air is less than the quantity of terr is less than 40) times 400 times 400 amounts only to 1-64,00),009 part of the trial air. Being spread over a surface which is but 1-160,000 of the earth's it follows that the quantity of air above each square mile of sur- ree is 1-400 part only of the quantity over each square mile of our earth’s surface. This | would be little enough in all conscience; but | this is not all. For the action of gravity polis « according to our assumption, only 1-600 of | terrestial gravity, itfollows that the atmos- heric pressure, and therefore density, is urther reduced in this degree, ¢iving finally | a density of equal only to 1240.00) of the den. sity of our own air. Now, at a height of seven miles, where the atmospheric pressure is reduced t9 one-fourth that at the sea level, men of ordinary consti- | tution perish ina few minuiés, if not | instant In Coxwell’s ascent to u iy t height, Glaisher fainted, and Coxwell only just had stfength left to draw the valve string with his teeth (his hands being already powerless). Yet at the height of seven miles, the density of the air is 60,000 times greater than that whieh, according to our very reasouable as- sumption, prevails at the surface of the Mar. | n MOONS. We can very well believe, then, that in | whatever way the inhabitants of these moons may be adapted, cogporeally and constiiution. | ally, for existence in their small homes, the rarity of the air there must tend to reduce their vital energy. So that we may weil | imagine that, instead of being able to leap to a height of half a mile or over a distance of | two or three miles, they are not more active | than we are on earth with 6)) times greater | Weight, but far more effective respiration We might, perhaps, go even further than this, and assume that, in order to give the inhabi- tants of these moons locomotive powers pra portioned in the same way to their own di- | mensions as ours are, they must be supposed | 5 much smaller than we are. e might imagine them in an atmosphere so. Gxceedingly attenuated that creatures which could have vitality enough to move freely about must be no larger than flies or ants, and must have also some such provision as insects have for more effective inspiration. In this way we might find in the Martian moons a miniature of our own earth, not only in the proportions of these worlds themselves, but also in those of the creatures living upon them But it would not be very interesting to | consider mere miniatures of our earth such as the moons of mars would thus come to be re. parsed. Indeed, in that case, little more could said than that all the relations presented by this earth were, or might be, represented in Eee Martian moons, but on a greaily reduced scale. at is, it terres- Salmon in the Connecticut. The Connecticnt river fishermen are quite excited over the advent of salmon into the river. I watched a party of them at hauling a seine at Old Lyme Saturday night, and the eagerness with which they inspected its con- tents when they hauled in. was like that of a party of gamesters. Hurriedly ignoring, for he moment, the handsome catch of shad they had made, the owner of the seine was greatly delighted to find aten pound salmon in his net and at once proceeded to put on all the airs of a “coupon clipper,” over his fellow fishermen. And well he might, for his one salmon was worth more than all the shad caught in the haul, as Sey have been selling at some 75 cents a pound. This price, how: ever, cannot long continue as Mr. Silloway, the genial clerk of the Granite State, tells me that since the Kennebee salon are begin- ning to appear in York, the dealers who came to the Hartford boat daily with inquiries for Connecticut river salmon are reducing their former high offers, and that 40 cents will soon be their maximum bid. The fishermen claim, however, that the Counecticut river salmon is so much superior to other salmon as its shad to other shad, and hence hope for a contin. uance of high prices. So far the catching of | them is a lottery in which but few draw prizes, and our fish commissioners claim that, if the fish continue to be caugns a@s now, they | will soon disappear altogether, and all the | time and money expended in raising them willhave been wastedyat the same time that } on, ermont and New Hampshire | will have a right to claim that they have been swindled by onnecticut, who fails to protect the fish that they united with itin producing. To this the Connecticut river fishermen reply, with how much truth I know not, that they always find the salmon dead in the net, and hence that it would be useless to return it to | the river, and, as of course they cannot run a | not so as to catch shad and skip the salmon, they are not to blame. My own opinion is that, as in case of the fish pounds at the mouth | of the river, the temptation is too strong to be resisted, and that nothing but rigid legisla- tion as to the methods and hours of fishing will ever serve to protect either salmon or shad.—[ Hartford (Cor.) “Springsield Republi- can, The Ice Monopoly. ““Gem'len,” said Brother Gardner, of the Lime-Kiln Club, “some of de members hev bin inquarin’ ‘round if de club ‘tended to havea lump of ice in de water-pail dis summer. Dat bizness kin be settled at dis meetin’. We see de gorgeous ice-wagins rollin’ frew de streets; we am roused up at daylight by de yells of de drivers as dey slam de frozen el'ment against folks’ front tes; we see de noosepapers bilin’ full of pictures representin’ refrigerators full of custard mes and cold chickun. We read of ice panics an’ high prices an’ so on, an’ by an’ by every common darky in town be- ‘ins ‘to feel dat he must hev ice or perish, xem'len, was der any ice in de Garden of Eden? When de multitude was fed on de loaves an’ fis was der eny ice-water aroun’ der? Who in dis crowd am a bigger man dan Adam was? if he fot along wi aout ioe, = sung songs of jo; ay long, am we poor folks wine ter buck de track? All dere is about ice am its coldness. Am we gwine to spend ten dollars for wood to heat de stove in winter, and eight dollars to cool de water-pail in summer?” “ No—never!” came in thunder tones from the crowd. “ Dat settles it—dat knocks de co'ners off de queshun,” replied the president, as he bowed his acknowledgments. “We am now on de pint of se tin’ our- selves apart. We am all wery busy at dis sezun of y’ar, an’ work seems to hole out fine. I want to say to all you’uns dat honest, squar’ talk am what de publicheza rant to expect of us when we take a job. What ry dat is, if you am called npos. to whitewash a par- lor, an’ de lady sweetly axes if you kin white- wash ober de carpet, dean’ go back on de teachins of dis club. Stan’ right up like a man an’ reply dat you kin not only whitewash ober de carpet, but you kin whitewash de carpet ail ober, an’ dat you won't make any ex.ra charge! We will now leave de janitor to ef- face de hoof-prints and lock de doahs.’ Mrs. Mary A. Bootn, widow of the late Junius Brutus Booth, has sold her farm in Maryland, containing 148 acres, for $3,500. This is the place where Edwin Booth was born. Junius Brutus Booth being an Englishman fo teste mate ts Teoainay and conmeuuene, hold real est 0 fee-simpie, ly leased the farm for fimple, am from Richard Hall at a yearly rate of one cent, | Allher references have | Speaks truth, PRETTY MRS. OGILVIE. (From Cham!er's Journal.) All the women are jealous of her; there is no doubt about that. The first time she ap- ier in church with crisp mauve muslins loating about her and a dainty mauve erec tion on her head, which presumably she calls @ bonnet, I know at once how it will be. . ALI of co er sex will rango themselves On her aae tS Sian that is also beyond ques- tion. As she rises from her knees and takes her little lavender-gloved hands from her face and looks about her fora moment with a sweet shy glance, she fs simply bewitching; and I | doubt if any male creature in our musty little | church pays proper attention to the responses | for ten minutes afterwards. A new face isa | great rarity with us, and such a new face one might not see more than once in a decade, so let us hope we may be forgiven. | As I gaze at the delicate profile before me, | the coils of golden hair, the complexion like | the inside of a sea shell, the slender milk- white throat and the long dark eyelashes, which droop modestly over the glorious gray eyes, shall 1 own that I steal a glance of dis- approval at Mary Anne—my Mary Anne—the | partner of my joys and sorrows for twenty ears and the mother of my six children? | lary Anne's figure is somewhat overblown, | her hair 1s tinged with gray, and the complex: | ion of her -humo} face is slightly rubi- cund. But she has been a good wife to me, and I feel, with a twinge of compunction, that I have no right to be critical, as I think of a | shining spot on the top of my own head, and of | a little box I received from the dentist only month ago, carefully secured from obser’ tion. But as we emerge from church I draw myself up and try to look my best as we pass the trailing native robes. Jack, one of our six, stumi les oyer the train, which gives me an op- portunity of raising my hat and apologizin, ‘othe brat’s awkwardness, and I am reward- d with a sweet smile and an upward glance iy tof fe grcat gray eyes which is simply in- oxieating. “We must call on Mrs. Ogilvie at once,” I observe to Mary Anne as we proceed across the fields on our homeward walk. ‘It is my duty as her landlord to find out if she is com fortable. She is a lady-like person,” 1 con- tinue, diplomatically forbearing to allude to the obvious beauty ; “and I daresay, my, dear, you will find her an agreeable neighbor.” “Lady-like!" cries my wife, witha ring ofin- | dignation in her voice. “I don't call it lady- | like to come to a quiet country church dressed | as if she were goln g to a flower-show. Besides, she is painted. ‘* color like that can’t be | natural. But you men are all alike—always taken with a little outside show and glitter.” | “But, my dear,” I remonstrate, “perhapsshe | did not know how very countrified and bucolic our congregation is; and I really do think it will be very unneighborly if wedon’t call, It must be very dull for her to Know noone.” I | | ignore the remark about the paint, but in my heart I diction. Mrs. Ogilvie has rented a small cottage which I own in the west-country village in which I am the principal doctor. “She is the | wife of a naval oflicer who is away in the Fly- | ng Squadron, and had settled in our sleepy little hamlet to live quietly during his absence. en quite unexcep- tionable, and, indeed, she is slightly known to r Squire, a3 is also her absent husband. “A ndid fellow he is,” Mr. Dillon tells me; ‘stands six feet in his stockings, and is as handsome as Apollo; indeed, I don't believe that for good looks you could find such another couple in England.” The following day Mary Anne, with but lit- tle persuasion, agrees to accompany me to the cottage to call on Mrs. Ogilvie. The door is opened by a neat maid-servant. She is at home, and we are issued into the drawing- room, Which we almost fail to recognize, so changed is it. Presently Mrs. Ogilvie comes in, looking, if possible, even lovelier than she did the day efore. She is inasimple white dress, with here and there a knot of blue ribbon about it; and she has a bitof blue also in her golden hair. Her manner is as charming as her looks, and as she thanks my wife with pleasant, cor- dial words for being the first of her neighbors to take compassion on her loneliness, I see that my Mary Anne, whose heart a large as her figure, basely deserts the female faction and goes over to the enemy. Mrs. Ogilvie is very young, still quite a girl, though she has been married three years she tells me. “It isdreadful that Frank should have to foeney. she says, and the tears well up in her large gray eyes: ‘that is the worst of the give the assertion an emphatic contra. | service. See; here is his photograph, lifting a case from the table and han ding it to Mary | Anne. “Is he not handsome ?" He is most undeniably so, if the likeness | and we both say so; Mary Anne, with the privilege of her sex and age, adding a word as to the beauty of the pair. “O, yes,” replies Mrs. Ogilvie without the | smallest embassassment ; fe are always called the ‘handsome couple.’ "” | I suppose something of my astonishment expressed itself in my countenance, for she smiles, and says: **I am afraid you think me very vain; butI cannot help kuowing that I am good looking, any more than [ can help being aware that my eyes are gray, not black, and that my hair is golden. It is a gift from God, like my talent, a valuable one too I think it, and I own that 1 am proud of it for my dear Frank’s sake, who admires it so much.” Yes, this is Mrs. Oxilvie's peculiarity, as we afterwards discover—an intense and quite open admiration of her own beauty. At first every one is astonistied at this idiosyncrasy of hers, but in a little while we all come to laugh at it; there is somethin; original and amusing about it; and in ail other ways she is so charming. .__My wife, with whom she speedily becomes intumate, tells me that she is sure she values her beauty more for her husband's sake than her own. “She evidently adores him,” says Mary Anne; “and he seems to think so much of her sweet looks. She says he feli in love wah her at first sight, before he ever spuke to er,” rr. But Mrs. Ogilvie has many more attractions than are to found in herface. Sheisa highly educated woman, a first-rate musician, and a pleasant and intelligent companion, and more than all, she has a sweet, loving disposi- tion, and a true heart at the core of ail her little vanities. She is very good to the poor in our village, and often when I am on my rounds Imeet her coming out of some cottage with an empty basket in her hand, which was full when she entered it. in a quiet little neighborhood like ours such a woman cannot fail to be an acquisition, and eve ‘, one hastens to call on’ her, and many are the dinners and croquet parties which are inaugurated in her honor. To the former she will not go; she does not wish to go out in the evening during her husband's absence—much to my wife’s satisfaction, who approves of women being “keepers at heme,”—and it is only seldom that she can be induced to grace one of the croquet parties with her pres- ence. But when she does, she eclipses every one else. She always dresses in the most exquisite taste, as if anxious that the setting should be | worthy of the jewel—the beauty which she | prizes so hi; hly. been Settled at the cottage rather more than two yearsand is beginning to count the weeks to her husband's return. We do not number them quite so eagerly, for when he comes he will take her away from us, and we | shall miss her sorely, It is summer again—a hot,damp summer; it has been a very sickly summer, and my hands are full. “I shall have to ggta partner, my dear,” I say to my wile as I Prepare to go out. “If this goes ouT shall have more to do than I can manage. There is a nasty fever about which 1 don't like the look of: and if we don’t have a change for the better in this muggy weather, there is no saying what it may turn to.” “Tam_ glad all the boys are at school,” ob- serves Mary Anne, “and I thiuk I will let the gitls accept their aunt’s invitation and go to er for a month.” | “It would be a very good plan, and I should g0, too. A little change be glad if you woul would do you good.”” “and, pray, who is to look after you?” asks my wife, reproachfully. “Who is to see that you take your meals properly, and doa’t rush off to see your patients, leaving your dinner untasted on the table!” Meutally | confess that I should probably be oorly off without my Mary Anne; but it is a Bea’ Plan to encourage vanity in one’s wife, so I say: “Oh. I should do hat Age by my- self ;”’ and with a parting nod betake myself io my daily duty. te n the village I meet Mrs. Ogilvie, basket in band. She dvesn’t look well, and I say s9. “You have no business out in the heat of the day,” I tell her. ‘What will your husband say, if he does not find you looking your best when he comes back?" A shade comes over her face. “Ah! he would not be pleased," she. aye casher. gravely ; “he alws 3 likes to see me ik my very best nd prettiest.’ ant ell, then, as your doctor, I must forbid your doing any more cottage visiting just at present. You are not ‘ooking strong, and gving into those close houses is not good ‘ou. 1 will come and see you on my way ‘Which I do. I find there is nothing the mat- ter with her; she is only a little languid. “You had better send the chiidren away to- morro% morning, Mary Anne,” I say as soon asigetin. “ Ms. Black Is very iil, and I am afraid—I_ cannot quite tell yet, but I am afraid—she is goiug to have smalipox. Of course, I shall have her removed at once, if I am right; but it may prove not to be an’ iso- = case, and i wil be as well to ge ee children out of the way. I si Ty au 5 suade ever y,one in the vi lage to be vaccinated tomo. row.’ “You will be clever if you m: that,” Says my wife. “Iam afraid some of the peo- ple are very resus. just it. You know hen the ‘children and I were re-vaccinated ree years ago, you could not pr 4 of the villagers to be done at the same time.’ On the following day we h the chil. dren early to their aunt's, under the care of Ghem of T go dows to Mes Bish eae seen them rs. ’3. To consternation, 1 find Mrs. Ogilvie just leaving the house. | to the cottage. | ingly | band and wife, when | and I hasten to the door to meet him. “T have been disobedient, you tf ‘ gayly; “but I_ promised to’ bring Mrs Black | something early this morning; and she seemed | so ill yesterday that I did not like to disap- point her. But Tam not going to transgress orders again—for Frank's sake," she adds softly. I give an internal groan. Heaven grant she | may not, have, transgressed them save too | vfi'cu: ANd 1 nasten Info the cottage, to find my worst fears confirmed. Mrs. Black has small-pox quite unmistakably. For some hours I am occupied in making arrangements for her removal to the infirm. | ary, and in vaccinating such of my poorer pa- | tients as I can Tighten or coerce into allowing me to do so; and it is afternoon before I am able to go and look after Mrs. Ogilvie. She seems rather astonished when I inform her what my errand is—that I want to vaccin- ate her (for of course I do not wish to frighten her by telling her about Mrs. Black); but she | submits readily enough when I say that I have heard of a case of small-pox in a neighborin, village (which I have), and I think it would | bea wise precautionary measure. “It is very good of you she says,” in her pretty gracious way, as she bares her white arm. have never been vaccinated since I was a baby, so I suppose it will be desirable. Desirable? I should think so, indeed! And I send up a prayer as I perform the operation that I may not be too late. Lam so busy for the next few days that I am unable to go down née or two more cases of small- pox in the village, and I am anxious and hard worked ; but Mary Anne tells me Mrs. Ozilvie has heard of Mrs. Black’s removal and is dread. | fully nervous about herself. ‘I hope she will | | not frighten herself into it,” adds my wife. “If she hadn't contracted it before I vacei ated her, I think she is pretty safe,” L reply; “but there is jst the chance that she may have had the poison in her previousiy.”” Almost as I speak a message comes from Mrs. Ogilvie, who “wishes to see me profes sionally.” My heart sinks asTseiz my hat | and foflow the messenger ; and with too good | reason. I find her suffer td from the first | symptoms of small-pox; and in twenty-four. hours it has declared itself unequivocally and threatens to be a bad case. ‘0 keep the nature of her illness from her, but in vain. She questions me closely, and when she dis- covers the truth, gives way toa bi spair that is painful to witness. marked ; T 1 be hideous!” she exclaims, | sobbing bitterly. “Poor Frank, how he will hate me! In yain I try to comfort her, to convince her thatin not one out of a hundred cases does the disease leave dreadful traces behind it; she re- fuses to be consoled. And soon she is too illto. be reasoned with or indeed to know much of her own state. She is an orphan ana has no near relatives for whom we can send, so Mary Anne installs herself in the sick room as head nurse ; and as I see her bending lovingly over the poor, disiigured face and muttering with tender hands to the ceaseless wants of the in valid, my wife is in my eyes beautiful exceed- so does the shadow of a good deed cast Jory around the most homely countenane ‘or some time Mrs. Ogilvie’s life is in grea danger; but her zesty Aud good constitution prevail against the grim destroyer, and at | length I am able to pronounce all per past. | But alas, alas! all my hopes, all my care, all | my poor skill have been in’ vain: andthe | beauty which we have all admired so much, | and which has been so precious to our poor ient, is a thing of the past. She is marked ightly it is true; but the pure complexion is thick ard muddy, the once betane eyes heavy and dull, and the golden hair is thinand lustreless. We keep it from her as long as we | can, but she soon discovers it in our sorrowful looks; and her horror, her agony, almost threaten to unseat her reason. My wife is with her night and day,watching her like a mother, using every argument she can think of to con: sole her, and above all, counselling with gentle words submission to the will of God. But her misery, after the first shock, is not so much for herself as for the possible effect the loss of her beauty may have on her husband, who is now daily expected. His ship has Been at sea, so we have been unable to write to him; and only on his arrival in Plymouth hear of his poor. young wife ligurement. Before her sickness she had been counting the hours, now she sees every day go es with a shudder, feeling that’ she is rought twenty-four hours nearer to the dread. trial.” Atlength his vessel arrives, and I re- ceive a telegram telling me When we may ex- pect him, and begging me to break the news gently to his wife. She receives it with a flood of bitter tears and sobs,erying out that he will hate and loathe her, and that she is about to lose all the happiness of her life. My wife weeps with her, and Iam conscious of a chok- ing sensation in my throat as we take leave of her half an hour before Mr. Ogilvie is expect- ed, and pray God to bless and sustain her. We are sitting in rather melancholy mood after dinner, talking (of the poor young hus- r. Ogilvie is announced, “She will not see me!”’ he says impetuously, coming in without any formal greeting. “She has shut herself into her room, and eails to me with hysterical tears that she is too dreadful to look upon, that I shall cease to love her as soon as I behold her, and that she cannot face it.” And then the strong man falls into a chair with a sob. “Tt is not so bad as that, begin. “] don't care how bad itis,” he cri “she need not doubt my love. My poor darling will always be the same to me whether she has lost her beauty or not.” hand to him and Whercupgn. I extend m: shake his heartily; and I know my wife has great difficulty in restraining herself from en- veloping him in her motherly arms and em bracing him. “We must resort to stratagem,” I say. “I will go down to the cottage at once, and you follow me in ten minu'es with my wife. I Will try and coax Mrs. Ogilvie to come out and speak to me and you must steal upon her un- awares.”” Mrs. Ogilvie at first refuses to see or speak tome; but I go up to her door and am mean enough to remind her of my wife's devotion to her and to entreat her, for her sake, to come down to me. “Where is Frank?” she asks. “T left him at home with Mary Anne,” I reply, feeling that I am worthy of being a diplomatist at the Court of St. Petersburg. as she opens the door and descends the stairs. I take her out into the garden and_ begin to re- prove her for her conduct, with assumed anger, She listens with eyes blinded by tears. I,on the lookout for it, hear the late! of the garden gate ciick; but she absorbed in her sorrow, does not notice it. 1 look up and see Frank Ogilvie’s eyes fixed hungrily upon his | wife. Her changed appearance must be an awful shock to him; but he bears it bravely; and in a moment he has sprung forward. clasped her in his arms, and the poor scarred | face is hidden on his true and loving heart! Then Mary Anne and I turned gen ly away, and leave him to teach her that there are tifmgs more valuable, of far higher worth, than any mere beauty of face or form. After all, we do not lose her, for Mr. Ozilyie coming into some money, leaves the navy and purchases a small estate in our neighborhood, on which they still reside. Mrs. Ogilvie is no longer young, and has a family of lads and lasses around her who inherit much of their mother’s loveliness. But one of the first things she teaches them is not to seta ficti- tious value on it; “for,” she says, “I thought too much of mine, and God took it from me.” No one ever hears her regret the loss of her beauty; “for through that trial,” she tells my wife, “I learned to know the true value of my Frauk’s heart.” ; She simply worships her husband, and is in all respects a happy woman. Indeed, seein the sweet smiles which adorns her face an the loving light which dwells in her eyes, [am sometimes tempted to call her as of yore— Pretty Mrs. Ogilvie. -—___ Lost HER HEAD.—Every one knows, that among all the rest of our Schools for women, there are ample means now for a woman who seeks to become a physician to make herself familiar with all the principles of practice and all the secrets of medicine and surgery. A young student who had pursued her studies up toa certain int in another city came to Boston last winter and proceeded to visit a cer- tain dissecting room to which she had been invited. Mounting the stairs, she come at last to the landing, from which opens the apart- ment where the wonders of the human frame are, materially at least, all found out. Wait- ing to cateh her breath, perhaps to catch her courage, she overhears the following froin the physician in attendance upon the class: “There are ndt enough heads to go round, Some of you must choose something else.” The listener turned pale and leaned against the wall. She thought she wouldn’t pay her visit that day. She thought she would go home and perhaps study a little further and approach the di ing-room a little more As she turned to carry this resolu- ‘ion into offect, she met the janitor of the building, who was evidently familiar witi visitors, and students in this stage and state of mird, for he said, encouragingly, “If you'll wait a minute, miss, ani KK a drop of brandy you'll be all right. They al of ’em feels this Way at the first start.” Bat “miss” didn’t wait that day.—[Ohicago Tri bune Boston Letter. A Toucn:NG Love Story.—', a’onz with several onlookers, yesterday observed & swa:: | low enter an exhaust-pipe in the roof of one of the Grand Trunk workshops, evidently for the purpose of building her nest in it. Unfortu hately for her she cou'd not get out again, and her partner entered the pipe also, and backed out again with a feather in his beak. Three times did he ineffectually attempt to rescue his mate. When work was Fyumed atlp.m the swallow was blown out of 2 force ol steam, and lay e t bnilding, the survivor ing rom | by showing signs of intense distress.—[ Moni reat Witness. oy pon eet |, 18 am eur the Paris exposition. It came from the head of a Norman Merlot by name, who lived with her m in the extremest poverty. It is se’ eu feet long, of an exquisite golden color, luxuriant, and silky. 4 LORD LEITRIM. His Death the Penalty for a Dishon- ored Home—The Outrage that Led to Deliberate sengeance— Two of His Slayers Now Safe in Amorica. New York Herall, May 16.) rian ita dark product of pers uu is a question which has beea iauch | hitherto not satisfactorily set tled. The noble Lord's relations with his ten ants gave warrant for either hypothesis, and each thereof found numerous stipporters. Yes- terday there came into the possession of the | Heraid information of a character which | ewcets away the presumption that land trou- bles had anything to do with his taking off, | and goes far to prove that his death resulted | from the fieree resentment which sought to | avenge a dishonored home. The informant is | a relative of the two men who were concerned | in the death of the Earl of Leitrim, and wao | are now, he says, safe in America, technical- ly, no doubt, within reach of the extradition treaty, but practically beyond its operation and beyond the potent and far-reaching sway | of British gold. Only one other party, he says, | had anything to do with the shooting’ of Lord Leitrim, and as his security is not yet so per- fectly assured, he makes his communication with some reserve. He himself left Ireland when quite a boy, and has not been there for twenty-seven years. He has memories, however, of some of its worst days of landlord sway’ and autocratic tyranny, of dispossessed tenants, of profligate opulence and dishonored peasant famuie , and, not having known any of the ameliova tion’ ot these evils, isin quick sympathy with what he would doubtless sull call “the wild justice of revenge.” Upon this topic he burst into a strain of passionate, natural eloquence, avowing that he would, without ruth or mer cy. Kill the highest oficial in the iaud it he should be guilty of violating his home. “Tiere was nothing agrarian in this,” he said here was no organization ; three men, and only three | men, had anything todo with it, and:wo of them are where British gold can never bring | them back.” When asked for his reaso: touching the motive which led to the killing of Lord Leitrim, he drew a letter from his pocket from which he permitted the reporter to copy all that bore upon the subject. He made we condition, however, that dates and names o. persons should be omitted, and also na nes of places of inconsiderable extent, but permitted a free reference to large towns like Liverpool cow, believing that they would afford noclew to the police authorities. The leiter, which is written in a rather indifferent hand, is not remarkable for orthographical exactness ner precise structure, butit at least points very explicitly to the motive of what society calls a crime and what these men calla strict and stern justice. It runs as follows, no attempt being made to improve its diction or its or- thography: . DEAR Cousin ‘Before this reaches you there will be news of the deaih of the ould villain Whom you and some others don't love over much. You Know who | mane sf His times up and passed. Nor he didu't die in his bed either, but just in the bed he made for many a hundred and thousand of his own poor starved victims. and young came over from the (their place of busi- ness) of Liverpool more nor fore months ago. just forced to company him J sup- pose you werent aware that neece died at last harvest, and si ays as how he thinks he sent you word, but isn’t shure in troth, he isn’t share of scarce anythin ce her death. She went against his wilt jay she tuk the big wages froin the di ould varmint—weil, at any rate she died poor enough, poor thing, and ihe child died afore her, and ever since ‘hen has his blood up, and no wonder. God help hiin, for many’s the time he would lie awake of nighis just chinkin of it all, and so he came over niais and and they both took lodgings in tor over fore weeks, and then went off io —— and saw brother for a week and theu leit. I ean’t give you any of the parti rs of he ould varminv’s death, but may be you'll heer it from their own lips afore loug and the death of the Driver—that cud not be heiped, and the agent that was with them both, as they had not none of them time to say much ayer I'm tould. So you see the law is olferin’ grate sums of money for information, but there’s nobody going to get it, for men can't inform much on theirselves you Know, They'll sail this week if possible, for there isn’t the laste difficulty, and maybe they’! go by Glas gow, in Scotland, and Maybe they'll go by Liverpool. “The niece,” said the Informant of the writer—" that accounts for it all; that was the pivot upon which the whole thing turned. The and question never entered into it.” It wil be observed that in the above letter the name of the Earl of Leitrim is never mentioned, the reference always being to “the ould vil lain” or “the old varmint.” This fact was pointed out by the Herald representative, and in reply his informaut said that before receiv ing that letter he had received anotier, in which that matter was fixed beyond a doubt— @ letter which contained “the head work,” as he put it, and in which, in fact, the Earl of Leitrim’s death was planned. He was asked if he would not be willing to give patuciy lo this document also, but this, he said, he could not consent to do until the security of the third party involved was assured prrene any pos- sible doubt. For the other iwo he had ao ap prehension whatever. Their escape without any difficulty or detention he attributed to the fact that they had not lived in Lreiand. They were not all engaged in agrarian pursuits, vu were active workers among ‘he masses of on of the large Engiish industrial communities. The dishonors however, which had befallea a member of their family rankled in their breasts, and their plan of retribution brough them to Ireland. There, with the aid of a ihird party, a resident of the country, they suc- ceeded in their terrible and unfliaching pur- Pose. Their deed was denounced as murder and assassination, but they only regarded it as retribution. They did not account it any worse than what has been justified ere now as “smiting the smiter with tie scimitar.” The circumstantial details of the killing of Lord Leitrim and his companions the informant of the writer could not communicate, but he said | that no obstacle stood in the way of their es- ; cape. hey were separated at London by a blunder—a superstition, he added—and one | came by that way and the other by Glasgow. One arrived in Boston and the other in New York, the Jatter landing first. “Both have since been together in New York,” he pro- ceeded. “I have been with them, aud they are now where they cannot be reacned; nor | do I believe, from the sentiments expressed by | the press of New York, that they would ever be given up.” “Are you quite sure that the third party is not in custody in Ireland?” queried the re- porter; and he received the reply that he was | hot only not in custody, but not in Ireland. Finally the person who supplied the above in- formation assured the Herald representative that as soon as the safety of that party was beyond all doubt (and he intimated that it would not be long until it was so) he would cheerfully supply further details, and would place the document containing what he called the oad work at the disposal of the Herald readers. LYDIA SHERMAN, THE DERBY (CT.) Pors- ONER, preserved to the last the cool uaconcern which enabled her to pe three husbands and seven children out of the way before she was discovered, and died in the role of the peni- tent Christian she represented during her con- finement. Though over 50 years of age, Mrs. Sherman did not go into the wholesale arsenic business until about thirteen years ago, when the New York police officer, with whom she was criminally intimate, suggested it asa con- venient way t rid of her first husband, Mr. Struck. Eighteen years she had been his wife, during which time seven children had been borne to her, but at last Struck had lost heart and head, discouraged at his discharge from the New York police force. He troubled his wife by fretting and lying about the house, and she readily accepted her paramour’s sug: gestion, a little arsenic in his oatmeal ‘quieth finished Mr. Struck, It was such a sure and easy exterminator that Mrs. Struck put her boy and girl of six and two out of the way in the same fashion, afterwards giving arsenic to an older son and her youngest girl to relieve them from their sickness ; she is also credited with the death of her oldest daughter, whom she says she did not poison. The’ widow became Mrs. Hurlburt of Huntingdon, L. I., but three months after that husband made his will he was under the daisies. Remaining a'one but a few months, this charming widow yielded to the suit of Horatio N. Sherman of irmingham, Conn., who wanted a wife to get his mother-in-law out of thehouse. Mrs. Sher- man sold her Long Island farm, and not only drove off the mother-in-law, but also got rid of an inconvenient Sherman baby boy and older daughter by means of the usual arsenic. Sherman kept himself thoroughly drunk with his wife’s money and, as she could not reform him, he was providentially laid aside. At last tardy justice landed Mrs. Sherman in the New Haven county jail, where she told the story of the horrible crime that had been see: car. ried on while she passed for a respectable but afflicted woman. The story shocked — body, and the woman was taken to the stat bcs ‘at Wethersfield, lest she should be lynched. There the same calm exterior and hypocritical pretense were kept up, Mrs. Sher- mao using i, crayon to excite pity for her unhealthy fook. She imposed on the matron an d for a week; but was recaptured and died on Thursday unconscious, after vio- lent nausea and spasins. ——<—— Now savagely from roof to roof The pussy-cat is driven, For her there is no sweet repose Nor nor quiet given; She not where to say ee heai, A vazrant’s pangs do fill 'er; But soon the summer time will come And bring the caterpillar. [Yonkers Gazette. 4a-A young lady who is doing the Alps, r2- fae S io ner guardian: a tried yer. eres pnd climb the Matterhorn ; didn’t near C re absurdly thing is in this country—please ser Tt is lv nigh—every- mime." A MAY TIME IDYL. pin the morning when the skies aro red, nell soep on the stairway: The'e's a big tub of suds by th And 1 sound. do- 0 siairs likes fair day. There's som: boty sorabulng in the up-stairs hall, And I see a mop through the winder: It smells and sounds like It did last fa 1. There's nobody bere that can hinder." What to bim was love or hope? ‘What to bim was jey or care? ona ping of Trish soap ir! had le Con the topmost stair. And his feet flew out like wild, fierne thing: And he struck each stair wich asound like arm: And the gir) beluw with the scrubbing thing , ‘Lavghcd like a flend to see him come, For what is life when the heart is dead, And a man ts thumping aJown the stair, ow ov his back. and now on his head, ‘Po land on the legs of an upturned chair? Ty clutch with a fierce, unhelping grasp Al the sipping tatusters fy tog ? oe ‘9 drup, at the end, with a si ng Ina wash tub full'or suds aud tye? Better, a shoneund dees ana — life tht t a man shou leep his whole li rough, Aud startle ‘he day with a nightly snore, nd scorn the sparkle of m-tning dew. why should he rise from his deep-breathed sleep, With his outstretched hands to feel and grop, To flounder and flop and crawl and creep ‘Through the treacherous swirls of the slimy s: Burlington Hawkeye, ir According to our W. another use has been found for gun-cotton in ‘oolwich correspondent, warfare. The novel explosive isto beemployed for disabling guns of the enemy. It is to take the place, in fact, of the spike and the armor ers haminer. A slab of gun-cotton, simply laid upon the muzzle of a gun and detonated, so injures and distorts the weapon as to der it prac ically useless for firing, whil case of a muzzfe-loader it at once prec! any attempt to load the gun. The old p may be remembered, of rendering an enen guns useless after storming a battery, was to pike them by driving an armorer’s nail into t n y being driven out of y again, or retiring, the weapons could not be'used against them—at any rate for a time. The rapid injuring of a gun by meAns of gun-cotton in the Way now suggested will pr yent the cannon ever being Spiel ed again; but thisis, after all, a questionable advantag for in the case of a spiked gun, if the enemy can use it once more on the subsequent boring out of the spike, so also may the stor party, should they prove strong enough the position. This not the first applic that has been made of gun cotton for th vad of destruction before the enemy. ody of men, termed Cavalry Pioneers, first created by the Austrians,and now adopied in the British army,are toemploy charges of gun. cotton in a similar way for break ilway lines and destroying bridges quickly. The trooper, mounted on a strong and rapid horse, is provided with a belt containing a few pounds ssed gun cotion, and on arriving at y he dismounts and places a chasge upon one of the rails. The gun-cotton is de: tonated with a fuse, and the result is thai half ayard of metal is seen flying over the next hedge. Probably not more than sixty seconds are necessary to work the mischief, but the man is up and away before the explosion can take place. In the case of bridges the work naturally of longer duration, but two or three intelligent men would not _be long in discover- ing a weak point in the structure and adjust- ing their charges so as to do the greatest amount of harm.—[ London News. LADIES’ GOoDs. M®*- M. J. HUAT Would invite the attention of the ladies to her handsome assor’ment of PATTERN HATS and RONNETS. = | A full assortment of CRAPE BONNETS siways on baud. CBAPE VEILS RENEWED equal to new. SPECIAL ATTENTION GIVEN TO ORDERS. 8. M. 4. HUNT. 1 and 623 D Street, s‘ MMER OPENING, _™) 23-tr MRS. J.P. PALMER Respectfully announces her opening of PATTERN BONNETS AND ROUND Hats * ON THURSDAY AND PRIDAY, The 234 and 24th of May, to which she invites th» attention of Washington and vicinity. my20 tr is SELL~ also ad lad orders for ele~ AEE, Parisian Drossmaking ‘sent to 88 North me led to, A perfect ft guaran’ 5 = ssi may6-tr NEW STOCK OF PARASOLS, With Pancy Handi $1 00, $1 25, - i. 198.80. 3.0, era LT 00, IVORY HA st PEARL INLAID HANDLES, FRENCH HORN Iz Plain and Twilled Silk, #2 inches, 24 inches, at C. M. TOWSON & OOS, 636 Pennsyleania avenue, Bonth Side, my@tr SPrreciaL NOTICE. LADIES FINE BOOTS for Spring wear of m. own make for sale at very reasousiie Mi JAS. H. VERMILYA, Oppontio Patent Ofos. oni q Ladies Boots and Shoes tade to order xt short aotice, oe _mar30-tr -ENCH ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS, Received to-day, from importers’ auction, an tmibense stock of Very fine FLOWERS that we will offer at about bait thelr value, ‘ON NO ap26-lm 608 Ninth tent Otis. M. WILLIAN has this year made a speciaity ° READY-MADE DRESSES, and is now constantly receiving invoices of KI't Tourist and other Suits in all the desirable stadod and materials, direct from his house in Paris, LSO, A choice line of Silk and Cashmere Mantilias, Circulars, Linen Dusters, Musiin and Cal Tap! Undergarments, J. B. P. Gorsets, and new and exclusive designs In SONNETS, MILLINERY GOODS and FINKE DRESS TRIMMINGS, ail at very attractive pri; opp. AAV Not on the Square. Attentive spectators of the spring trotting matches haye seen that false records have been given, and that miny trotters were entered in ciasses much slower thun that in which they honestly belonged. On more than one track the judges have been requested by the owners ° horses to hang out slower time than was actually made. Noble trotters have been held back, and horses that could have won small purses were prevented by. their drivers from taking first money, inorder that their |, and that hereafter Notably . Wi time might go unrecorded. they might rake in large amount: this been the case on Long Isl: trotters entered in the three-minute ¢ under the wire in 2:34, and others entered in the 2:45 class were close winners in 2 In one instance the deceit was so palpable that one man, Mr. Alden Goldsmith, in the judges’ stand, who had watched both ji § and horses, in his indignation, cried ow “That won't do, dges; you can't give that horse a record of > when he has just made 2:29'4." The judges, who had given out the time as 2:35, at firsi re- fused to correct it, but after threatening dem. onstrations from an angry group of horsemen in frong the stand, the time was finally hung out a , This tampering with the truth is not confined to the vicinity of New York. It is the almost universal practice from the rock-bound coast of ine to the slopes of the Pacific. The con sequence is thateven at country fairs, on un- known tracks, honest grangers, who have taken pride in raising promising trotters, are the prey of professional horse sharps. and in rvery contest one or two of these will capture the purses, and often leave good horses for the class in which per are entered distanced. If honest records were given of horses it wou'd narrow down the contests to trois of real interest. The horses would not be harassed and broken down in so many useless efforts to sco e, and the tracks would be better patron- wed.—[N. ¥. Sun. Tne RELI Furure —J mil D re me GION MR. FROUDE SEES IN THE —James Anthony Froude has traus- (ted his second paper on “Science and The ology” to the International Review, of New York, stating in substance that the modern na- sions of Europe, like the Greeks and Romans, founded their original policy on religion; but that the will of God has no longer a place, even by courtesy, in the statutes ; that respect. able people fight sine the unwelcome truths in regard to Christianity thrust upon them; the «lergy pay deliverance from evils which they Know depend upon natural causes and the bishops themse ves do not actually be- lieve what they profess. Mr. Froude asserts, however, that the message of science is not the last nor the highest, and that the time will come when the illusions which have over- whelmed religion shall have passed away ; that a society without God in its heart cannot ex- ist, and that when a new religion has estab. lished itself which men can act upon and fully believe, it should never be ruined by the ex- travagant pretensions of its founders and propagators. THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN'S FATE.— Chief Naches informs us that at a council of Indians which is to be held in a few weeks he will resign the chieftainship of the Piutes. He has a little farm on the Big Meadows, and is going to try to be an American citizen, and will no more be chief. He said:—* My people are dying of diseases they do not understand and cannot prevent. They are passing away like the snow on the mountains. Thirty-four of them have died in Winnemucca and at Big Meadows within the last two or three months.” —[ Winnemucca Silver State. A CHALK SERMON.—The modern fashion of the preacher taking a singer with him into the pulpit as a helper, has nm made familiar through the examples of Moody and Sankey, Whipple and Bliss, Hammond and Bentley, Graves and Hillman, and other famous evan. gelists, working in couples, one preaching and the other singing. But another sort of helper ig now indemand. On Sunday the Rey. Mr. Ferris, of Brooklin, delivered a *chaik ser- mon,” in which as the notice ran, he was ‘‘as- sisted by Frank Beard, Esq., artist.” We have all heard about the “ ministry of art” and the inissionary service it ought to fulfil; here we have them. Not long agoasermon in New York on “Hell” was vi aly. illustrated bya painting done in oil. If the Methodist preacher reinforce his sermon with chalk sketches, and the Presbyterian or Lutheran with oil paint- ings, surely the Baptist may invoke the aid of water colors. Thus the draughtsman and painter may rival the singer and preacher in the Sunday services of the future.—[N. ¥. Sun. “CHAMPAGNE AND _OysTERS.”—In the Re- formed Presbyterian Synod, in session in New York, in Monday’s session the action of the local presbytery In the case of Rev. W. J Clark, of Lisbon, St. Lawrence county, N. ¥., charged with immoral and unministerial con. duct, was sustained and Mr. Cla and, he said, “ My enemi vietim of their hellish machinations. They caused me to be invited to visit an improper tothe piace but got Out as soak ani ating 3 n bad character.” ca aerial — AN INDIANA TRAGEDY.—Miss Houlton, a farmer's daughter, Hving in De Kalb couaty, Ind., was aroused last lay night, by hear. ing a burglar in her room. She sereamed, and her r, coming to her rescue, was shot dead at the door. The burglar then calmly searched the house, but got no plunder. Au alarm was given and the murderer captured euivi apa Sete Unc tata hi anneah ved one term for though only 20 years old. > THE EaktTaquakeg in Ve 4 fay Mea hantoee hae aos ol be wn el it aes from , Was entirely destroyed, as were cy year ed to the amount of ———_________ STUNG TO DkaTH BY BEezs.—Morris Elli: farmer pear Georgetown, IIL, started dg Vermilion Grove T stands of bees In his ‘wagun “The tists Stet very angry, doubtless, from the jolting of the Wagon, and in a solid mass lit upon the horses suas pes ont horses did not try to Lond horses have since died, and Mr. is in a ces, 907 PENNSYLVAN 7 Cite Trevise, Paris. oe N KS. SELMA KRUPPERT, a 614 9TH STREET, OPPOSITE PATENT OFFICE, Has just opened a large and select assortment of INFANTS’ AND CHILDREN’S LACE C. and BONNETS, BOBES, —— LONG AND SHORT DRESSES, And all Kinds of CHILDREN'S FURNISHING GOODS. Novelties in Lisle Thread GL Bisel MIITS, LACES, LACE G: TODS and EME ROLY ERIES, SILK and WORSTED FRINGES (n all she newest styles, CHILDREN'S LACE CAPS le to order. mar8-tr ee GENTLEMEN’S GOODs. Pyros TO REMOVAL, To reduce stock, I will offer for a few days, Best Four-ply LINEN COLLARS, 8 for §1, LINEN CUFFS, 25 cents a pair, READY MADE SHIRTS, which have been so popular, are still sellt and % cents for the unfinished: fuished, 7 cents; laundried, (read L or hove: SHIRTS, 12. DREsS SHIRTS made to order, Fit always guaranteed . the cause ‘of low prices, Men's FURNISHINGS complete, THOMPSON'S Suint Factory, myl4lm 806 F st. n.w., opp. Patent Ofc, Frees STOCK a or STRAW HATS For Gentlemen, Youths and Boys, just received, Elegant assortment of Ladi a o SUN UMBRELLAS. at the lowest INBrLst prices, UMBRELLAS and PARASOLS covered. paired in the best manner, us ee WALTER KER, Hatren, 1419 at 60 and 90 apli-tr TRAW HATS. IN GREAT ABUNDANCE, ‘or men, youths and children. Qelebrated Macki- oer Straws, all grades. Silk Umbrellas, $3.60 Best Goods, Lowest Rete ™ a cy my9 tr 1937 Penn. ave., next cor, ath st, Avonus, Above Willard’s Hotei. rae ES LONE SHIRT,” Bigors Bawa aed Cine ae aateria with Linea ottne Wamsutta 0. ‘and 80 cts. finished, Finest 4-ply Linen Collars, 6 for $1. &@-80ld at our Branch, 1002 F street n.w. mar27-tr C. GEO, MEG@INNIBs. GQboner F. SCHAFER, MERCHANT TAILOR, Offers for gale the balance of his stock at and below cost to close business. Bw A call is solicited, mars3m_ 1111 Pennsylvania are. = ww. XX Shirt 1s 75 cts. unfinished, AMAZINGLY LOW PRICES FOR LUMBER ar WILLET & LIBBEY's. OOBNEE 6TH STREET AND NEW TORE Ay, VIRGINIA PINE FRAMING, per M......$13 33 we offering LUMB! lower figure oRRIESRE SESS JOIST, alll sizes (medium length) .... .. .....813 33 Our LOW PRICES command the attention of alPpurchasers who wish to buy low. STUDDING (medium length)...... .. .....813 33 ‘With the largest Stock in the city, WE HAVE THE LOWEST PRICB LIST. WILLET & LIBBEY, Corey, Rial ave ane New York Avenue. es end ian AE Ee