Evening Star Newspaper, October 5, 1889, Page 14

14 WONDERS OF THE HUMAN EYE. Lots of Curious Things About Nature’s Photographic Camera. 4 LITTLE MIRROR DISK THAT HAS MADE OPRTHAL- Mic SCIENCE WHAT IT IS—DANGERS OF GoIxG TO AN OPTICIAN FOR A SPECTACLE PRESORIP- TION—“OLD SIGHT,” “NEAR” AND “PAR sIGRT.” “I would like to examine the interior of the eye," said the oculist, But, when he per- ceived a slight shrinking on the part of Tax Stam reporter, who assumed for the time the role of patient, he smilingly added: “You need not be alarmed; it will not burt you a particle.” Then picking up a little disk-shaped mirror with a bole through the center be led the pa- tient into a dark closet, and after lighting a bright gas jet told him to sit down on the chair immediately beneath it, Next he himself sat down opposite, so that the knees of the two touched, and held the small round looking- Glass in front of his own eye, like an eyeglass, With the mirror side outward. in such a man- ner that it reflected a ray from the gas jet straight into the patient's eye through the pupil. He could direct the ray easily enough, inasmuch as he was looking along it through the smal! bole that pierced the center of the If you wiil holda big, flat button-mold up to your eye and look through it at the eye Of a person seated in front of you you will get & notion of the way in which the oculist oper- ated. Suppose the button-mold has quick- silvered giass on the surface turned toward the object, and you will perceive how easy it would be to throw a ray reflected from a light above the other person's head directly into that other person's eye, and to watch, through the hole in the button-mold, WHATEVEE TEAT RAY REVEALED. This was what the oculist was doing with the mirror disk. The ray it reflected entered the patient's eve, through the pupil, and lighted up the interior very much as a dark room is lighted up by a buil’s-eye lantern shining through « doorway from outside. Just as the lantern might be turned about this way and that, to illuminate various parts of the dark- ened chamber beyond the doorway, so the lit- tle looking glass was manipulated between the foretinger and thumb of the physician, as he heid it before his own exe, | in such a manner as to reveal to his view every portion of the inside of the ocular camera obecura—for such the eye is; very much like the camera of the photogra-{ pher in its construction and mode of working; and. by gravy! it has been found out quite re- cently that the so-called “ocular purple” in the eye actually produces the pictures of objects seen, on the nerve-screen that lines the organ, by a chemical process very much like that em- loyed by the photographer to bring out the Tincs of hin negatives, Posnbly, some day, by studying nature’s method, the sun-print artist may learn how to photograph colors as the eye does, Who knows? ‘The patient w.s very much relieved at length to hear the oculist say that there was nothing serious the matter. . “I observe a slight inflammation of the inner coat of the lefteye,” remarked the physician, “as well as a mildly hyperemic condition of the lids, both of which little troubles have un- doubtediy been occasioned by the glasses you wear. Now, may I ask where you got those glasses?” “At So-and-so’s, the optician,” replied the applicant for treatment, “HE ADVERTISES TO FIT THEM WITHOUT CHARGE.” “What do you consider to be the business of en optician?” “Griuding glasses and fitting them to frames mostly, I suppose.” “Precisely. In other words. he is a me- chanic. Of the eye. its structure and pathol- ogy he has seareely more kuowledge than you have. And yet he advertises—though there are some opticians who are too bonest to do so --to perform what is nearly the most difficult work the eye doctor has to peform; namely, to fit people with glasses, It takes years of hard stady tor an ophthalmic surgeon to learn how to fit glasses. No two persons’ eyes are quite alike, end few patients have both eyes the same; in ach case a dozen different possible defects have to de looked out for and remedied by glasses ground in special ways if they exist. It is apt to take au hour or more for a skilled oculist to find out just what glasses you require, but the confident optician will call your attention toa few rows of different-sized letters at the other end of the shop, ask you what rows you can read and sell you a pair of spectacles accord- ingly. off-hand. Of course it is always a more or less wild guess on the optician’s part, in- finitely more apt to be wrong than right, and, if you will consider that every bit of error as to fitin the glasses means just so much con- tinual strain upon the eyes of the wearer, you will see what an immense amount of harm must be done in this way. Why, I have known op- ticians to omens near-sighted glasses for over-sighted eyes. and vice versa.” “SHOULD ONE, THEN, FORSWEAR OPTICIANS?” “Hardly. The thing to do, if you need glasses, is to go to the ophthalmic surgeon for the prescription, as you would go to any other physician if you had a pain, and then take the Prescription to the optician, who is the eye doctor's apothecary. as it were, to be filled. ‘The glasses are prepared for you—if need be, specially ground—and you have the satisfac- tion of knowimg that they are precisely what you require. The whole business will cost you $15, perbaps.” “What is the little round mirror called with which you examined my eyes inside?” asked the patient while the oculist was engaged in fitting glasses of various strengths into a huge ose frame for trial. *To that little instrument,” _ mnded the surgeon, “is due nearly ail of ie progress made in ophthalmic science since the days of the ancient Egyptians. 3.000 years ago. And yet, as you see, it is nothing but asmall, round Wirror with a hole through it. It is called the ‘ophthalmoscope,’ and was invented by Helm- im 182 So very little was known the eye beyond what the oid tian physicians were acquainted with. ey Were familiar with the structure of the organ, through dissection, and they even performed operations for cataract. That know, is merely conpeeey. of the crys e which lies just behind the little hole in iris, called the pupil, and serves to bring the Tays of light that enter the eye through the Popul te focus on the nerve ‘screen behind. tis at this focus that the picture of the object seen is formed, like a photograph. But if the lens. which is like a wee bit of convex glass, is rendered opaque by any cause it is termed cataract, and the lens itself must be gotteu out of the ‘vay, so as not to in- terrupt the light raya, So, nowadays, it is cut out of the eve and removed, while in ancient Egypt it was simply pushed down by a needle into the lower partof the eye, frequently to occasion subsequent inflammation and joss of sight. However, as to the opthalmoscope, I Was going to say that it afforded the first means ever discovered for studying the interior of the living eye. From that point modern ophthalmic science really took its rise, and there is not much sbout the eye today that is not under- aecod.” SEAR-SIOHTEDNESS AMONG THE ANCIENTS. “Were people afflicted with near-sightedness in ancient times?” “Oh, yes; though probably not to the same extent. We read, write and study more than the ancients did, ana for this reason pear-sight is more common with us, for it is the excessive use of the eyes at the near point that propa- gates the trouble. In old times troubles with the eyes were regarded as afflictions sent by heaven, for which there was nocure. Nero, who fiddled while Rome was burning, was so bear-sighted that. although ~he bad the very best seat in the amphitheater at the gladiator shows, he could not see what was going on. One day he discovered that a certain concave emerald in his collection of jewels aided his Vision materially, and from that time be al- carried the emerald about with him and, when he wanted to see anything at a distance, looked through it. He regarded the stone as & talisman apd supposed that its properties were ee it true that speo- 5; i ue every person needs tacles at some period of ite ” “Decidediy, if the person lives to be forty- five years of age. At that age, or at any rate before Gity i reached, the crystalline lens, which is of the consistency of jeliy in child- hood, has gradually hardened to the consist- ency of wax, so that the muscles which change the focus of the eye for various distances, by altering the shape of the lens, tind it difticult todo their work. You will pereeive that after look- ing at an object across street, to examine your finger attentively*requires a distinct effort of the eye. You have to exert the muscles that control the sha of the lens im order to make the focus right for the near point. If the lens has got hard, through advancing age, a continuous ef- fort of this sort. as in reading, tire- some, and thus it is that the man or woman finds the first indication of what is ignorantly termed ‘failing sight’ in the blurring of the letters in the book or orig 2s Now, Sess it it the fact is, of course, that the just as good as ever, @ave for the fact needs a litte help in the way of a glass lens to make the focus right for reading and thus save the muscles work. The sight for distance, un- der such circumstances, still remains as good boltz few years ago that about disease, you le t | as ever. because the lens in its natural focus and shape is adapted to distant vision. “BUT THE MIDDLE-AGED PERSON, asa rule, imagines that. the blurring of the letters signifies impaired sight. He or she is aware that glasses will make reading easy again, but hesitation is felt in adopting them on account of the widespread saying that, once taken up, spectacles can never be done without again. truth at the bottom of this lies in the fact that, when one’s sight has once been restored by artificial means, one is not di to throw the help away again. Not realiz- ing this. the middle-aged person keeps on straining the eyes until they be- damaged, come somewhat for want of artificial aid in reading or sewing, and finally the glasses are adopted—bought, in nine cases out of ten, from the ignorant opticians, to cause more trouble. very likely, later on. And all the distress might have been saved by simply going to the oculist when the annoyance first began to be felt and procuring the proper teagan This is what every person at forty- ive years of age ought to do, for tltere is no one that arrives at the age of fifty, at the ut- most, who does mot need assistance for close vite it trae that sighted im “Is it near. eyes improve as bar’ ae older?” “Pah! That is another popular delusion. Near-sightedness may grow worse with age,but not better. Likewise, it is nonsense to sup- o8e. a8 is 80 commonly asserted, that the near- sighted eye is unusu: strong. How should the abnormal egg-shaped eye be stronger than the normal sp! erical ove The near-sighted eve is not necessarily weak, but it is a sick eye, in the sense that it usually belongs to a_person who is imperfect constitutionally. The re- Verse of near-sight is over-sight, which is occa- sioned by FLATNESS OF THE ORB OF VISION. “It is the case of nearly all cases of ‘weak eyes,’andof nine out of every ten cases of ‘squint.’ Any child afflicted with either of these troubles should be taken at once to the oculist and have glasses prescribed for it. Thousands of people go through life without half the use of their eyes,when the whole trouble is simply due to a slight malformation which proper convex glasses woald remedy at once. In the case of a confirmed squiut it may be necessary to cut the shortened muscle of the squinting eye, which removes the ditiiculty and sets the organstraightagain. Let me add, while I think of it, that there is nothing against which the ignorant should be warned more carefully than the ‘eye waters’ sold at apothe- caries’ shops, which almost invariably contain gar of | This chemical applied to a sore eye makes an opaque deposit on the cornea, which may soon render the unfortunate pur- oe of quack eye remedies permanently ind.” _——-_eee _______ HELPED THE AUTHOR OUT. How a Printer Inserted a Good Idea of His Own and Lost His Job. From the Chicago Times. A printer told the story. “I had a geod job,” be said, “in a Monroe street fiction foundry—one of those print shops where they publish stories of the ‘Skeieton Hunter’s Last Gurgling Gasp’ order by the cord. It is the rankest kind of rot, and is liable to give a printer blood poisoning if he handles much of it. It is the sort of literature that in- duces little boys to get up in the night. steal the old man’s pocket book, buy guns, and start out west to rescue the imperiled maiden from the lair of the robber chieftain and restore her to her agonized parents, “There were twenty printers and six liars, each a full-fiedged Auanias, working in the place. The liars sat ata tuble in one end of the room grinding out those unwholesome us fast as we could put them in type. ne day I got a wad of cop; that was positively ickening. It was about a lovely girl who had been captured and torn from her home bya heartless white desperado and his band of bloodthirsty Apaches. The girl was ina des- perate fix. She either bad to marry the villiin or become his wife, he didn’t care which, and he was then on his way to a cave in the mount- sins, where he was going to have the ceremony performed. “That night they camped in a rocky gorge 200 miles from nowhere and bound the unfor- tunate maiden to a tree with the usual buck- skin thongs, which cut deep into her tender wrists. Then they all laid down and went to sleep. In the meantime Ol@ Zeke, the Hairy Scout, who was on the trail, sneaked up just at daylight, when people sleep the soundest, Zeke sailed in poe é killed twenty-five or thirty Indians with the butt-end of his trusty rifle. He didn’t want to shoot for fear he would waken the others, Then, after he had euta notch for each corpse on his gunstock and hung the coarse, black scalp-locks to his belt, he released the girl. hoisted her under his arm, jamped into the saddle and rode away. «He rode at fall speed for forty-ejght miles without stopping. When night closed in the bold scout pulled rein and went into camp. First he picketed his horse, then built a fire, fixed a cot of leaves for the girl and got her something to eat out of his saddle bags. This was where I got in my work. “The first thing Zeke took out of the bags was several thick slices of fresh Vienna bread with honey on them, Next came cold boiled ham, cut thin, an apple pie with a short, crispy upper crust. and last a tender spring chicken toasted a delicate brown. Mind vou, he had ail this stuff in a pair of saddle bags in the wilds of the Rocky mountains, 300 miles from civilization, in the year 1836. It made me sick, but I resolved thatthe poor girl should have one good feed if I died for it. So I shoved iu another paragraph like this, completing the bill of fare: “After getting the girl started Zeke reached intothe saddle bag and pulied out a bowl of steaming hot consomme aud a broiled fresh mackerel, some deviled crabs, cold slaw, po- tuto salad. a half fry, veal cutlets breaded, with tomato sauce. gr corn on the cob, some clam chowder. stewed turkey,a portion of rice puddiug. two cups of chocolate, pork tenderloin, Rochefort cheese and a boitle of Bass’ ale, Saratoga chips, a plate of vanilla ice cream, a Chinese paper napkin. sliced cucum- bers, some California grapes and # nickel- plated nut cracker.’” “Did it go?” asked an interested listener. ‘No, it didn’t,” said the printer sadly, “but I did. The boss came to m: nxt morning with 8 proof slip and wanted to kuow wiio was writ- ing thatstory. [said the author was making a blind stagger in that direction, but wasn't giving the girl s fair show. t may be,” said the boss, ‘but if he wants to run @ cafe in connection with the story we'll hire a cook and make it easier for ou.” ee ‘Then he told me that I was too smart to be ® printer and had better go out where the cool air would strike me. I went.” The Effects of Whcels on Roads. Prof. N. 3. Shaler in Scribner. The character of the vehicles which are used upon a roadway has a great influence upon its endurance to the beat of the wheels, With the same burden a two-wheeled cartdoes far more damage to the road than one of fourwheels, aud this because of the suddenness in the motion of the wheels and their irregular, twisting movement in the track way. Where the axies are short and the wheels close together the damage to all, save turnpike ways, is greatly increased, for the reason that there is no chance for the growth of grass between the treadway of the wheels and the footway of the horses. This principle appears to have been recoguized in some parts of the country. Thus in the neighborhood of Boston, where the ways are made solid by macadam or other rubble, the distance between the wheels is generaily about five and one-half teet, while inthe andy road district of Cape Cod the length of the axle is usually huif a foot greater. The greatest defect of our American carriages is that for a given weight of carriage and bur- den the tires of the wheels are extremely nar- row. Itis true that on ill-conditioned and muddy roads @ narrow wheel tread is advan- tageous for the reason that the thick mud has aless extended hold when it wraps around the felloes and spokes, but with this arrangement the interests of the roadway are sucriticed to the convenience of the indi- vidual who drives upon it These narrow wheels, with tires often not more than an inch in diameter, cut like knives into the road-bed and sodeepen the ruts. If we could require that no vehicle should have a tire less than an inch and «half im (diameter, ‘and that all spring! carriages sh> ave tires at least two inches in diameter, increasing in widih with the burden, we would secure our ways inst a considerable part of the evils from which they suffer. ———_+o+___ Not Living. “Hello, Billy,” said a traveling man, as he hailed friend, “you've changed your resi- dence.” “Yes.” “Where are you living now?” “I am not li anywhere. I 4d; by m Hesbetr' boarding howe 7 degrees at Mra. Visitor—You dort mean to say that you do on Sundays! How can you do och © Lady of House—Oh! but know, gi adres w. nae : isitor—Ob, well, that’s a different thing, of MERCHANTS OF THE PAVE. Grease Eradicator and Tooth Cleanser For Sale at so Much a Box. The peddler with the carrotty bang and eruptive complexion was fast asleep on the high box that served him asa sort of pulpit {gr preaching*the merits of his wares, which were displayed upona small portable stand readily folded up like the camp stool he sat upon, so that the proprietor, at # moment's alarm, could “up stakes” with the readiness of the proverbial Arab, and, valise in hand, silently steal away. But no unkind policeman warned him to ‘move on,” nor did anybody even examine his stock-in-trade. For the available crowd of possible customers was gathered about a second peddler s dozen feet away, of a cadaverous aspect but infinite parts of speech, who poured forth a Niagara of elo- quence regarding the powers of some soapy- hora de! he sold to take out spots from clot “Takes ‘em out like magic, gentlemen,” he was saying. ‘Grease, paint, stains of all Kinds and every description—hair oil, sardine oul, salad oil, gravy, butter—all removed as with a charm from the fabric, leaving not a speck be- hind—excuse me if, merely for # moment, I rob you of your hat.” Whereupon, he deftly liftsfrom the bald crown of anold colored man, ‘standing by, the most battered old tile imaginable, and, dipping asponge into water first und then into the soapy-looking stuff, rubs it vigorously upon the frout part of the brim, keeping up all the while the same unpausing oratorical flow. “Sardine oil, butter, gravy, paint, hair oil, ham fat, chicken-grease-by-the-light-of-the- moon—is there any kind of grease, I'd like to kuow, that an analytical chemist wouldn’t find in the cloth of thishat? See, I have drawn THE GREASE PROM THE FABRIC into the sponge and now I squeeze the sponge in the water;I sponge the brim off with the water and now look at it—chicken grease, per- spiration, gravy, ham-fat-by-the-dark-of-the- movun—all gone from the spot I have been operating on. Here’s your dicer, uncle. Two boxes, sir? A quarter, please; thanks! And now we'll have auother festa of water from the fountain and remove this large gob of goose grease from the coat lapel of the gent with the stovepipe hat.” The “gent” indigated submitted to the ex) iment with evident reluctance, being grabbed before he could make his escape, and the stain was removed as before, with the same continuous jabber on the operator's part to accompany the performance. As a matter of tact, of course, the preparation applied was simply 4 SOAP-BARK MIXTURE, which made the staing disappear temporarily by removing the dirt on the surface; the grease remained in the cloth and, a few days iater, more dust collecting upon it, the spots wouhl come out as conspicuously asever. But that did not prevent the vendor trom selling a great uutny boxes of his grease eradicator before the other peddler, with the scorbutic countenance, woke up suddenly and began to declaim on his own account to an audience consisting of one small bootblack. Whereat, as if by preconcerted arrangement, the cadaverous orator im- mediately sat down and took up a newspaper to read. The crowd about his stand drifted over to the other, and, for their edification, the small bootblack aforesaid was immediately seized and subjected, without the formality of asking his consent, to. an operation upon his h. Graspimg the boy by the collar, the peripatetic merchant swung bim up on the bor. and, inserting his fingers into the hapless victim's mouth so as to distend that feature uncomfortably, displayed to the interested spectators a set of grinders that had evidently NEVER KNOWN A TOOTH BRUSH. “Did you ever see a worse lookin’ set of teeth than this ‘ere?” cried the man with the carrotty bang, with a suspicion of the cockney in his voice. “Why, it's hawful, that’s wot it is, Ev'ry one of ‘em covered an inch thick with tartar—wich the doctors will tell you is carb‘nate o’ lime deposited from th’ saliver— an’ all sorts of disgustin’ nastiness. A nice con- dition this fer a young kid to be goin’ round in. It gives me a pain, that’s wot it does. See me do the good Samaritan act, now, an’ without a centof pay. Watch me make his teeth as white as snow, ull in the twinklin’ of a bedpost. charge him nothin’ fer the service and send him on his way rejoicin’, Keep still now!” This last admonition was, of course, addressed to the sinall bootblack, who, being held tightly by the back of the neck, finally submitted to having his teeth scrubbed with a tooth brush that had been previously dipped into a box of the patent preparation, which the peddler was trying to sell. The stuff performed its work sdenitabt , for, like all such preparations, it contained a powerful acid, which at ouce ate away uot merely the black tartar from the vic- tim’s grinders, but incidentally the enamel that forms the hard protecting surface of the teeth, keeping them from dec Necessarily the teeth were spoiled, to a great extent, for life, but they were made white as ivory ina moment, and, upon their final triumphant ex- hibition by the vendor several spectators were so Impressed with the virtues of the cleansing agent that they invested st once in a box apiece, to take home and injure their own chewing apparatus with. ACCOMPANYING PRESENTS. “With each and every box of this marvel- ous preparation,” shouted the peddler, ‘I give away a packet of needles, a machine that will cut glass like a diamond and an automatic ‘tater parer. Gaze on me while I remove the skin from this large Irish vegetable, Is it not wonderful? Watch me while I slice up this piece of glass with this curious little instru- ment, The glass cutter, the ‘tater parer an’ the needles ail go with a twenty-five cent box of the great tooth cleaning and preserving medium. You can give the glass cutter to your boy, the ‘tater parer to the cook and the needles to your wife, and the whole family will be happy. All these things are given away for gen'rosity’s suke, freé gratis. I'm not tryin’ to make a cent out of wot I sell here, but only to advertise the goods. If it wasn't fer th’ 'taters that I save after they’re peeled I'd starve, fer a fact. Hey!” A WAR OF WorDs, The exclamation was aimed at a rather tall and very thin man in a premature winter over- coat, who had remarked aloud to a fellow- spectator that the tooth cleanser was a swindle, “Wot's that you say, my bloomin’?” de- manded the peddier. with some ferocity. “L suid you was a skin,” replied the stranger, call, y itag’in!” fairly howled the man with the carrotty bang, as if incredulous of his own ea ou're a fraud.” ‘Oh, that’s it, is it?” said the peddler, less ex citedly, but with extreme sarcasm. “And how’s things down at the jail?” “About as they were when you left, I sup- pose.” The crowd laughed, and the peddler re- joined with increased sarcastic intensity “They said you was locked up in the jim-jam ward fer the summer, with pace on the walls and a ball an’ chain fer playthings, But, now the cold weather is comin’ on, the city is get- tin’ flooded with bums.” “So [see, and do all of ‘em make a livin’ by fakin’ with tooth-cleaners and potato-parers?”’ ‘The crowd laughed again at this, and the peddler was thereby wrought up to an addi- tional pitch of anger. “I'm onto you.” he shouted, shaking a clenched fist at his antagonist. ‘Give me any more of yer guff, an’ ll jump down off this an’ ump you in the kisser! 2 “If you've got any change you want to take out of me,” auswered the stranger unper- turbed, *-just come down and help yourself.” Whether and actual physical collision would have immediately followed will never be kuown, inasmuch as a policeman happened to stroll by at that moment and the belligerent peddler became suddenly silent just as a burst of eloquence made itself heard from the other vendor's stand, the crowd moved over in the direction of the greass-eradicator man, who was starting up business again, and what might have beeu a combat of Homeric interest was unhappily prevented. ee No Need To Be Reconciled. From the Lewiston (Me.) Journal, Sept. 14. “Grandsire Caswell” was one of the early settlers of Harrison, Me., ancestor of four or five generations of hardy families, some étill residing on the original homestead, He was'a revolutionary veteran, a strong-minded gentle- man of the old continental school of patriots, and his modes of thinking were in natural and rational ieee I preregn td noted for = special veneration for original New England orthodoxy, but possessed a bi heart, rn of hops for ail our race. He on what was meant by experience a toee life per b e old flag in of peace and its blessings. man, in his eighties, was feeble of body and failing, but with mental faculties still clear, he was visited by a pious neighbor who felt a call regarding his relations to exhort the old soldier ie ee “Have you made your peace with God?” ire the exhortet, bey pss ‘he veteran pondered the question a moment a is snsPease, pence with God?” Why, I haia't ever been to war with Him.” tf PRINCE BISMARCK. The Maa of Blood and Iron at Work and at Home. FEEBLE IN BODY BUT STRONG IN MIND—DETAILS OF GOVERNMENT WORK — PLAIN LIVING AT FRIEDRICUSRUHE—HOW we HAS TAUGHT THE YOUNG EMPEROR TO OBEY HIM. Correspondence of Tax Evexmne Stan. Berurm, Sept. 20.—Of all the old men of Europe there is none whose personality is stronger or who attracts more attention than Bismarck, the man of blood and iron. The American stranger within Germany's gates for the first time sees much of interest as well as amusement. But the presence ot the soldier everywhere draws attention to the fact that the latch string is on the inside, and that those within seem to expect war at any moment. It makes little difference where you goin Germany, or at what hour you go, the soldier is ever pres- ent. You will see them in Cologne, scores of them on the Rhine boats and trains, and a great many thousands of them at Mayence. Frankfort- on-the-Main, Coblenz, Strasburg, Heidelberg, and they swarm the Unter deo Lindea at all hours of the and oight. They are big, broad-shouldered fellows. straight as American Ind.ans, unobtrusive in manner, and aj ntly always on the alert for the ‘unexpected. They & marching through the streets or saunter idly through the beer gardens and concert halls, while the women of the family toil in the fields, mend and sow; in fact, do ail the work that is done about the house and farm. But these women do it uncomplainingly. I asked one whom I encountered in one of the vineyards on the Rhine if she did not think it a mistake that her husband and sons were gaily di and wasting their time looking magnificent while she toiled so hard. She shook her head and replied ia German that she was proud that the ation wanted her husband and sous, ‘ She was glad to give them up to it. She considered it her duty to do so, and if she had had a dozen sons she would have given them up as uucom- plainingly. I saw numerous evidences of the inaguificent training and discipline of the Ger- man army. It makes no difference to the com- mon soldier whether the officer who meets him belonys to his own regiment or not, or what the circumstances, he comes to the full military halt and salutes bis superior promptly and properly and remains in that position antil tye officer sa- lutes the soldier and passes on. GERMAN SOLDIERS. If there was nothing else worth seeing in Germany, a thousand or these big, broad-shoul- dered fellows on parade would repay the time and money spent in the Journey. Nowhere else in the world will you see such magnificently de- veloped and well-drilled soldiers. The soldiers of France are like pigmies compared with them. The soldiers of italy look like boys in soldiers’ cloties, and even in England, with its boasted men of great physique, they cannot compare to the army of Germany. me of the Enzlish regiments, like the Horse Guards, composed of picked men, and the Royal Highlanders, aiso com of picked men, tobe sure would as- tonish the German generals. But there are not many ofthese. In Germany all the soldiers are brawny fellows and seem to have been born to march and fight. It is this great army of Germany that Bismarck looks after as a mother treats’a spoiled child. The chancellor is quite feeble now, but. like the sturdy oak, he may break, but seldom bends. He has changed his views a great many times upon a great many topics, but his political creed is the same today as it was in the beginning. He believes in Germany and the confederation under the leadership of Prussia. And he be- lieves in the German soldiers. What sort of a man is Bismarck? Much has been written about him, yet even in Germany his personality, his method of life, his method of work and his own peculiarities are known only to those who surround him. VIEWING HIS OWN WORK. I may say that he is no longer a worker in the sense that Americans mean work, for he has passed that time of lite. The hewing ot wood and drawing ot water he leaves to others. He simply looks on Low with satisfaction at his own work, with the magnificent prospect of Germany; smiles at his adversaries, leads the young emperor along the road he should take, looks him calmly in the face and knows that his sovereign believes in him and all is well. He is an early riser. All great men seem to have that untortunate peculiarity. Some of us who are not great like to lie abed late in the morning.’ Neither Bismarck nor Gladstone is of these. A daylight the chancellor is awake, He seems to consider himselt a sentinel on duty. He begins his work early, but only such matters as are of the utmost importance are brought to him. The details of unimportant work he leaves to others. His son, Count Herbert Bismarck, who bids fair to become a great diplomat some day, shoulders most of it. But the old chancellor's usefulness is not over, aud when he wants to he Is capable of doing as hard a day's work as any one in the empire. HIS MIND AND HIS BODY. His body Is teeble, but his mind is still as vig- orous as it was when he keptall the reat states- men of Europe awake, thinking what new plot he would spring on them. He sleeps in an un- pretentious and plainly furnished room. Like the old emperor, who has been lald away for- ever, he likes @ military cot or Irun bedstead, Those who have seen his room say that it is so unpretending as to be almost uncomfortable in these days of luxury. There are none of the modern conveniences which are considered nec- essary even by those who are not quite well to do. His moruing meal is a plain one, and is usually tuken in his room. After this such business of the nation as it is important for him to see and decide upon is brought to him. If there be important documents that need his siz- nature, or a conterence of ministers or heads of departments, or if there be any episode of a na- tional or international character he informs himself thoroughly about it and discusses it frankly with his son and then with bis chosen advisers. After this he spends an hour or more with the emperor. The old man has so molded the character of the young man who now sits Upon the throne that only a work or a look is necessary for royal approval. If anything were needed to show that Bisinarck Is a man of iron, it Is tound in the fact that he was one of the few persons who looked so far intothe future as to see that William LI would some day be em- peror. BISMARCK MOLDED HIS CHARACTER to sult himself, and in doing so he taught tne boy to despise his own mother and England and ali that was English, The unfortunate ex-Em- press Frederick, It may be said, has left Berlin forever, unless the death of Bismarck and the return of her son's love and respect should call her thither. It may be all well enough to say that the emperor loves his mother and to point to the fact that he eagerly embraced his royal grandmother upon his recent visit to England and to give other evidences of loyalty to his mother’s country and her family; but those who know the facts well know that it 1s only for show. Bismarck not only hates Enylaud with ail the ardor of his sreat nature, but he hates every other country in Europe, and he bas taught bis emperor to do the same. William [II loves and respects Bismarck. They like father and son. The young man does as he is told. He has never taken the bit in his mouth et, and he probably never will. Bismarck’s influence over him is really remarkable. He controls him in every way. In a word, the emperor is a puppet in the chancellor's grasp. 4 STRONG PECULIARITY. One of the strong peculiarities of Bismarck is that he never forgives nor forgets. The word mercy is unknown to him. He had none even for his empress when the Emperor Frederick lay dying; he has even less for those who have anta onized him through life. He has a re- markuble memory. He never forgets, and if he sometimes appears to have given upa treasured plan it Is only in the appearance. le has been @ patient waiteras well as a great diplomat. He bas been a believer in the old adage, “All thinus come to bim who waits.” He is the most hated and most despised but most admired and the most feared mau in Europe. His remarka- ble plots and bis superior intellectual powers are Ep perp ease and, with the exception, per- haps, of Gladstone, it is nut too much to say that he is the greatest man in Europe, if not in the world, today. He ts the one man who holds the scaie balanced between peace and with the emperor he mavnificent and thea a frayal lunch : mio 4 ae callers, = his family, or ing to some state demand his attention. But he ait he i kuows anything, that increasing and | ical indrmity demand that he shall. have ove and he takes it. His dinner, at 6 o'clock, is the heartiest of the day. For the of thousands who may like to know what Usual dinger consisted of ao in ‘soup, & bies, black bread and a light wine or bes’ tie dines out occasonaliy, but not often. Two or three times a week atew of his chosen friends are invited to sup with him. After this they smoke and chat and tell stories. Sometimes there.Js music, a song, and, if not, an occasiona page pede el PS little from another. The bow of ‘evens to be act in the sky, and there Is: to the old at present. The details of meat he leaves to others; but he | that he ts as well as ever and BISMARCK AND GLADSTONE. It would be hard to find two men who are 80 radically different as Bismarek and Gladstone. Both have arrived at the age when most men = Langue compe bed both geo lcd vigorous and ca; of doing yeoman Bismarck auclore Cadac inter vs iy ing or writing phlets, or discussing this or that ism, ur plunging headlong into some work that many a man would feel unequal to; but Bi trained as a lawver, schooled in state craft as no other man in Europe, able to speak half a dozen languages, conversant with all the classics of the time, cares nothing for them now. He seems to have but one hope and one am- bition. ItisGermany. Few persons know that he ts a proficient Greek and Latin scholar, and it may og yg People to be acguaiated with the fact that in his early days te wate numerous translations of Virgil and Homer. History and geography have always been his favurite studies. He would not be a German if he did not love music. He is a great admirer of Beethoven, avd, while he dislikes everything that is French, he speaks in high praise of the realistic novel- ists of that country. In his younver days he was @ great gambler, and it is on record that he has not bet on acard for many adas. He if a great smoker and prefers the old-fashioned pipe toa ch In personal appearance be Is very stoop-shouldered, and when walking leans heavily on his cane. His clothes are ill fitting, but his eye is clear and the firm mouth is easily discerned through a gray mustache that hardly covers his lips. BISMAROK'S HOME. There is scarcely anything remarkabie in his house at Friedrichsruhe. It is absolutely plain. ‘The furniture is of the simplest character. There are evidences here and there ot the handiwork of woman, but no great paintings decorate the walls, and his library is filled with a choice but inexpensive assortment of books. Portraits of his wife, his daughter and his sons. of Von Moltke, of Cardinal Hohenlohe, of Thiers, of Beaconsfield, of Gladstone and of the three em- berors under whom he has served decorate bis walls. A recent visitor to Biswarck’s home, in seeatae place, says that, although some of the roomd contain much that is plain, others show evidences of luxury and of decidedly his- toric importance. In the drawing room the floor 4s covered with arich carpet, there are three fire- places here, where, as soon as the cold weather sets in, blazing logs light up the room and make it warm and cheerful. There is an abundance of couc es sometimes two or three in one room. The dining room is severely plain. its chief adornment is the bronze statue of the emperor given by himself to Bismarck. There isa bronze imitation of Neiderwaid, which stands ina tine oak cupboard in the smoking room. A leaflet is attached to It, with the following words writ- ten in the emperor's own hand: “Christmas, 1883. The crowning stone of your policy. A festival destined chiefly for you and which you unhappily was not able to attend. W.” IN BISMARCK'S STUDY there is a small card table bearing a brass plate, on which is an Enzlish inscription to the effect that on the table the preliminary peace between yermany and France was signed at Versailles in 1871. When opened there appears the central round of green cluth with the very candle spots that were there when Bismarck and Favre put their names under the treaty. Bismarck often laughingls explains how he became possessed of this curiosity. It required some diplomacy even on the part of the great diplomat. The land- lady of the house who owned the table obsti+ nately retused to part with it for any considera- tion of money, so as a lust resort Bismarck called ina cabinet maker and ordered hun to make another table exactly similar. When the twins were put side by side the landlady, wo- manlike, decided in favor of the new and shiny table, and Bismarck triumphantyl carried off the old one. If the chancellor's study aud bed Toom is plain to severity the cuest rooms, sit- uated on the first floor, are distinguished by comfort, ease and luxury. IT IS A HAPPY HOME, as those who have been entertained there will testify. In it its owner forgets, so tar as he can, all strife. The torch of hate is put out. There is no thought of war, but instead there Is feast- ing and music, the prattle of children's yoivrs and an air of quiet and peace that bodes weil tor Germany. The silent man, the man of biood and iron, the man who has put the stand- ard of statesmanship and diplomacy so high that hts successors will have «reat difficulty in reaching it, the most hated and best ioved man in Europe, is nearing the end, disguise it as much as his friends will. What his thought: are amid the scenes of revelry in which his children and grandchildren take part no one can tell, for he has few confidants, if any. If his lite had been a failure in every other re- spect he would still be great, tor he has taught one magnificent lesson to statesmen, which is the value of silence. FREDERIC SaNBURN, —_§$_<$§_woo—___ BLESSED ARE THE BACHELORS. For They Can Get Their Mending Done Without Petticoat Tyranny. No one who saw the expression of the young man’s face as he hurried along the street in the gathering darkness of the autumn evening could have failed to perceive the tragic horror depicted there. Atintervals, between his set teeth he murmured: ‘Too late; I fear it is too late!” And then accelerated his footsteps to a run almost, until at length he came to a little shop and hastily tried the door, which opened, admittivg him. ‘Gooduess me!” he said toa young woman in attendance, as he laid a small bundle he car- ried upon the counter. “I was awfully fright- ened lest I should find you shut up; and, if I had, I really don’t know what I should have done. The band of my last available shirt— the collar band, you know—was half torn off at the rest I ay eres ita mond —— ay 0 toa dinner it. remark—and it was too late to recall my ac- ceptance of the invitation. However, it is all right now, for you will mend it for me, will you new” “With pleasure, sir,” replied the pretty girl behiwd the counter. And she added, “It will take about half an hour, though; for a new collar band will have to be put on and I shall have to dampen anc iron it afterward so that you can wear the shirt this evening.” “All right.” quoth the young man, with the air of one relieved trom a burden of intense anxiety. ‘I'm willing enough to wait if you'll permit me to talk to you while you sew. I want to ask, among other things, if this business of sewing and mending for bachelors that you do is especially profitable.” “There's not a fortune in it,” said the young woman as she passed a tape measure around the neck band of the shirt. “But we do pretty well. More customers come to us every Yearand they pay very fair prices for the work. Many, of course, are merely accidental patrons, as one might say. They see our vign, ‘Mending Done for Gentlemen,’ and, wanting something of the kind done, they drop in. Our regular customers, on the other hand, usually bring a bundle of things to be fixed once a week, or once a fortnight, or per- haps monthly, We do everything, you see— darning stockings, patching clothes, taking out spots, sewing on buttons, mending shirts and underclothing, and so on.” “It is a bieesing for the bachelors.” “Yes, indeed, but bachelors are not our only patrons in this line. Plenty of married men come tu us also, Some of the latter are the hus- bauds of fashionable women, who are so de- voted to social pursuits as to have no time for mending their men folks’ clothes. You know, it has come to be the style again for young ladies to be rather helpless, They are taught to sing and play and to paint a litle, with perhaps a few other elegant uccomplishmente. but it is no longer considered such good form as it was a few vears ago for them to learn the domestic arts, and the thing for the young lady of fashion to languidly say nowadays is, ‘Oh, how charm- ing it is to be able to cook and sew! [t must be 80 nice to feel that one can do something use- ful’ If she added what is in her heart she would say: “But it is much nicer to be helpless and ornamental, papa is rich and I shall uever @ poor man.’ Such girls, of course. not sew on their husband's buttons, very likely they don’t know how. So the husbands are apt to bring or send their clothes here for ment ing.” “I'd never marry such a girl as that,” said the yor man. “Brobab she wouldn’t have you,” responded ef m, biti off a thread with her e FF rT i f & igs ef ae THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1889—SIXTEEN PAGES. that is ber of the busi- penn. eipeal ds dooms aakiog: end ay coat cooks and puts up all those things you see for sale on the opposite side of the shop and lots “I see all sorts of preserves and things in little cana.” “Yes, all those are of her make, and she bakes all kinds of cakes. too. and wafery things of the sort you eat at receptions Besides she prepares chicken salad ia large or small quan- tities for parties, and chicken croquettes too. and — and lobster croquettes and lob- ster and everything in short in the way of dainties. My sister has the custom of the most fashionable people in Washington. People taste the articles of ber manufacture, like them, and ask where they come from; in | that way the shop's trade grows. All the of Mr, ‘Glovtienis cublon used 60 pa- tronize us. but we haven't got the custom of the new administration quite yet, though Mrs. herself and Mrs. Windom buy their jellies and soon here. The dressmaking, you see, icoly with the cooking business, end the mending is incidental; it is a sort of co-operative plan, all in the family. Now, I have finished your collar: band I will go and iron it, and presently you shall your shirt, ready to go to the dinner party oe - PEN WORK THAT PAYS. Original Ilustrations Stories, Poems, Ete. for LIGHTS AND SHADOWS ARF MUCH MORE EFFECTIVE THAN OUTLINES IN AN INK DKAWING—HOW | VALUABLE THE CAMERA HAS BECOME IN ILLUS- TRATIVE WORK. From the Philadelphia Record. Having pointed out in a former issue of the | Record how the amateur artist may derive great pleasure and profit from the use of pen and ink in making sketches and finished drawings, we | will now endeavor to give some suggestions as | to the use of the same medium as applied to! photo-engraving. As is well known, it is by | this process that all, or very nearly all, of the j illustrations in our books and periodicals are j produced, Illustrations are much more com- | monly used than they were a few years ago in | both books and periodicals, and the number of the latter is constantly increasing. There is good reason for this in that photo-engraving is much more cheaply executed than the old style of wood engraving, which has, indeed, been almost entirely crowded out by its young kinsman. Most of the drawings intended for reproduction by photo-engraving are made with pen and ink, and, notwithstanding the great numbers of draughtsmen who apply themselves to the work. it is still profitable. Herein lies sufficient incentive to prosecute the study of pen and ink seriously and diligently. A series of articles ranning through the Art Amateur treat of this subject at length, and from this source we take the liberty of glean- | ing such suggestions as may be of use to the | beginner in work of this character. WORK THAT PAYS BEST. The most profituble pen-and-ink work de- manded by publishers is in origimal illustra- tions for stories, poems, &c., where the artist must rely upon the resources of his imagina- tion to give inspiration to hishand. Of course | those which best illustrate the ideas of the | writer are most acceptable. Again, sketches | of scenery, copied from pencil sketches or | drawn with a pen by “our special artist on the | spot”, are in great demand and are very remu- nerative to those who succeed at it. It is hardly necessary to add that the best prepara- tion for this work is constant drawing with the pen from nature both figures and landscapes, , Anotber class of work—that of making draw- ings directly from photographs—is profitable because it can be done so rapidly. This work is very largely applied to magazine illustra- tions. For example, a writer on travel sends to the editor the photographs of scenes with which he desires to illustrate his article, Thirty years ago these photographs would have been sent to an artist, who would have drawn them in reverse upon a box-wood block and then have given tuem into the hands of a wood engraver. Fifteen years ago the services of the | draftsman would not have been required. The wood engraver would have taken them first and have photographed them in reverse upon the block aud then engraved them. This method is also practiced now to some extent, but is being rapidly superseded by that of sending the photographs to the artist who cop- ies them in pen and ink, and the photo en- graver reproduces them mechanically for about one-tenth the price the wood engraver would charge. THE CAMERA’S AID. Fidelity to the photograph is, of course, im- Portant, and so to fucilitate his work the artist who draws from photographs very often calla the camera to his aid and has an enlarged negative made of the photograph he wishes to copy, and these he has printed on plain paper, which is called a ‘silver print.” Upon this print he makes his drawing, copying mean- while also trom the original of it. It bei easier tomake a large drawing than a 81 one, and having his outline perfectly made for him, he can get on very rapidly. He puts in the shadows and to some extent the color lines with his pen, and when the print is pretty well covered he pours over it a solution of corrosive sublimate, which bleaches out the photograph, leaving only his pen drawing. When the paper is dry be proceeds to finish the drawing, strenzthening, cross-hatching and adding de- tails, When it is sent to be photo-engraved it is reduced to any required size. From this it must not be inferred that’one need hot be a good draughtsman to work over asilver print. Beyond the fact that the out- lines and proportions are fixed, vers little is gained. A portrait may be utterly distorted, or a landscape falsified, without the knowl. edge and true artistic feeling which would "ea one to make a perfect free-hand draw- ra MAKING SILVER PRINTS, The beginner will do better to have his silver prints made for him at first, although after he becomes expert it will pay him to get amera and make his own prints, The sil- vered paper can be procured from any house dealing in photographers’ materiuls. Be sure to state, in ordering, that you wish the plain and not albumen paper. The paper must be kept in the dark and, when used, mounted on stiff card board or it will curl up." The prepa- ration for washing out the photograph is com- posed of one ounce of corrosive subiimate dis- solved in one piat of alcohol and one-half pint of water. Itis poured lightly over the print, which almost immediately disappears, When the drawing is drs it must be dusted off before attempting to work upon it. For original drawings the snggestions as to paper. pens and ink heret given are ap- plicable, smooth-sucface Bristol board or draw- ing paper; Gillott’s pens, from crown quill No. 659 to Spenceriau No. 1, and liquid India ink. With a pencil now proceed to sketch a series of “guide posts,” as it were, which will prevent your misp ving different parts. When an ont- line is secured and the masses of shade indi- cated with your pencil proceed to fiuish in ink and afterward erase all pencil marks, FEW OUTLINES NEEDED, To those who have never learned any method of drawing the writer suggests making first a sketch in ink (by sketch he does not mean out- line, but merely indications of important ints) and then draw the shadows before fewer the outlines. representing then by parallel lines, close together for dense shadows, wider apart where they are less dense. Obecr. vation of etchings will show how few outlines are required and how much may be done with simple parallel lines, while practice will de- velop remarkable aptitude in making shadows and Tighe express all one desires, yur work will also look freer and more artistic than the cramped and mechanical work of the draughts- man Who first outlines his objects, For those wishing to become illustrators there can be no better practice than that of making simple sketches m one’s friends in easy positions, Use the parallel lines as sim: ly as possible. and try to see how little outline you can manage with. Beginners are forcibly warned Make large st at first with a coarse pen-and-ink artiste prefer a stu! reg ricer for landscape and for tice in uketching. A lithographic pen is, ever, required to work over a silver print —_ trying to work finely, ies pen to a TUE i H t a THE WASHINGTON BRASSES, of Sulgrave, the old home of the Washit (ancestors of the illustrious founder of American republic), by the discovery that memorial brasses of great interest bad stolen from the parish church. They sented members of the Washington family, were placed in the south aisle near to manor pew. It appears that about a ago two men in gentlemanly attire visited grave. As they to be Americans one thought it at all out of the way that should visit the parish church. They wer — free run of the plese. which im ebly is 2 day. a eburch, indeed. is a shrine oe ¢| many patriotic Americans make devo | when visiting the mother count he Sunday following it was discovered two of the brasses aiixed to the Washi : slab in the nave had been forcibly remo and taken away. This slab was mate after th decease of Amy Washington, the wife of La rence Washington, ax a memorial of herself a ber husband. Six different plates of brass we: setin the stone. The firxt contained the W: ington coat of arms, argent, two bars gules. chief three mullete of the second. This. ordinary Envlish, means a white shield cro with two red stripes, and toward the top th: red stars. The coat of arms, borne by Washingtons who emigrated to America, wi the origin of the «tars ands tripes, or stars garters of the United States, the national 6 Near, oue on each side in brass, were former! effigies of Washington and his wife, and belo them on a brass plate of oblong shape was following inscription in three lines: Here lyeth buried ye bodys of Laurence Wasshi Gent & Ameo his ( wyi by whome be bad issue i sous & Vi) daughts wg leure oe Dyed ye day c auo.5 ‘all October ate Dui 1564. |? Pe wed Under this are representations of the fo sous and seven daughters in two groups, The costume of Lawrence Washington and his children is that of the ordinary attire envili of the middle of the sixteenth century, The tather wears aclose-fitting doublet, a lary gown, with demi-canon siceves purtled with tur, and large broad-toed shoes. The boy wear large doublets, kuce breeches, long by and shoes like their futher, and each bas bi ra ficiere at his girdle. The girls clo iting caps, with gow hing to the anki and secured round the waist with aband. Thy brass representing Amy Washington no long remains, From the brasses it would seem that the d cease of the wife was the occasion for the lay ing down of the monument, as the date of bi death, 1564, is inferted, while the date of he husband's demise is left blank (after the cu tom of the time) to be filled in when he, too should die. When he died in 1583, however, that was not done, . was This Lawrence Washington of whose monument bas, just been robbed. twice ay fod Hesthampton, in 1533 and again in nd his name a) Qy tw ot the mayoralty shields in tee tome ball uf Northampton. He is described by Baker as off Northampton and Gray's Inn, esquire. His firs wife was Eizabeth Gough, the widow of Wm Gough ot Northampton, and his second, Amy daughter of Robert Partiger of Greatworth. the thirtieth year of the reigu of Henry VIII} (1538-39), manor of Sulgrave and all lands in| Saigray eeuoneing to the dissolved priories off Canons Ashby and Gatesby, were granted to him. _ After his death in 1583 his heir, Robert] Washington, and Robert's eldest son, als: named Lawrence, sold the manor to anothe member of the family. Of course the great interest in this memori centers in the relation Lawrence Wasbingtor bore to the founder of the United States n public. Baker, in bis great history of North- amptoushire, traces the pedigree of Georg Washington from Joho Washington of Whit. field, in Lancashire, through this identical Lawrence and his second wife, Amy, and their grandson, Lawrence Washiugton, of Sulgrave, Sir Henry Dryden, however, writes: “According to Baker, the last-named Lawe | rence had, among other sons, John and Law- reuce, who emigrated to America, and from the| first of whom was descended George Wushing- ton, the first President of the United Stutes, It bas been shown by Col. Chester in ‘The Herald and Genealogist’ of August, 1866, that) there is no evidence that John and Lawrence who emigrated were the John and Lawrence the sous of Lawrence who died in 1616, or that, they came from this country, and that there is strong presumptive evidence against the identity, Unfortunately, Baker's pedigree has been accepted by nearly all inquirers from his | day to the present. Jt was only « coincidence that a Joho and Lawrence Washington of the Sulgrave family existed at about the same period as another John and Lawrence Washe ington emigrated to America, It is neediess here to go into the question of the relative claims of the ire und Northamptonshire b-anches of the family of John ——— of Whitfield. Each bas ite champions and its defenders. There are, how- ever. many both in America and in England who believe that George Washington's imme- diate ancestors were Northamptonshire People, Time has told somewhat ou this monument of Lawrence and Amy Washington, and it is also to be regretted, the hand of the thief as well, The bead of Lawrence Washi bas been knocked off; the brass efligy of his wife has been gtolen and taken away bodily, and the enamel which the coat of arms was col- ored has crumbled nearly all away, leaving scarce a trace behind, The two portions re- cently taken away are those representing the “ij sons and vij daughters, h of these Pieces could be covered by a sheet of note- paper. We may add thaton the Suigrave brass ‘ton, such the family name is spelled Wasshi authorities as Bridges, Baker an to the contrary notwithstanding. Northampton grammar of this sume Luwrence is 5) Hed Wasey Hadson, in his *-Brasses of Northamptonshire, gives a reduced fac-simile of the Lrasses, bu as Sir Heury Dryden points out, be omitted copy the coatof arms. Probably, however, that was due tothe tact that the arms were originally colored or enameled, and the taking author did not consider thet « painted memorial should be imcluded in « work om brasses. Rubbings of the brasses are still in existence, and we understand that the police are investi- gating the matter. ‘The theft of these interest ing memorials of so famous a race will be a se- rious archwological joss to the country, for there seems to be little hope of their recovery, Written for the Evesixe Sr. Across the Way. When dawn was lighting the rosy heaven, At four in summer, in winter seven, Ere Phabus glowed, Or yet the city had turned in its bed, ‘There by the window with needle and thread, She sat and sewed. And 4s the hand so bus ly plied, A baby boy played soft by her side ‘The whole day jong: And sai! and sweet in the evening mild Were beard the voices of mother and chil In gentle song. ‘Mid toll and trouble and dire despair, ‘The child's smile solaced the mother's care Thro’ dreary years; For the little one had his father's face ‘That faded away from her fond embrace With burning tears. But there came a day when the song was still And the needle stopped at the window sill, For the babe was low; And there camea day when voy was dead And cold and pale in his little bed Where the violets blow. No longer the woman sits and sews, No longer We tear of sorrow flows Or memories throug; For the gentle tones of mother and child Are mingle. again in the evening mild Ip augel song. —Davip GrabaM ADER bit f E i : F 7 Li