Evening Star Newspaper, August 29, 1891, Page 7

MR. HUBBARD’S COUNTRY HOME. SUBURBAN HOMES..| The Country Residences of Mr. Hub- bard and Mr. Bell. | } WHERE FRESH BREEZES BLOW A Bome Adapted to the Natural Surround- | ings—The Besutiful Views From “Twin | Oaks" —Koomy Interior—Mr. Bell's Summer Home—Conventence and Comfort. 3 | QX=_OF THE HANDSOME COUNTRY | places in this vicinity is that of Mr. Gard iner G. Hubbard on the Woodley road. Just | now number of the distinguished foreign | members of the international geological con- | gress are enjoying the beauties and comforts of this elegant suburban home. Within an easy driving distance of the city, the location | bas those vataral advantages which are the charm of the Rock creck region. ENTRANCE TO “<TWI as its location, Mr. Hubbard has, with admir- able taste. ndapted it to the natural surround- ings. The house is a gracefal type of the colonial style of architecture. It is built of | wood and the plain outlines are enriched with the gabled roof marked by the characteristic balustrade and by the wide porches and hos- pitable porte cochere. There is the delicate ornamentation which is one of the most pleasing features of the style and is confined almost entirely to the wreath design in relief, which distinguishes the frieze and aiso the gables. The grouping of the house is an effective piece of work and it is 80 adapted to the surroandings that the visitor is charmed by the harmony and the quiet elegance which distinguish the place. THE MAIN ENTRANCE on the north side is murked by a large porte cochere. The view from this point is decidedly sylvan.as the lawn gradually slopes away to the edge of a handsome forest of onks, which have acool and inviting appearance to the visitor just from the hot and dusty city. Passing through the porte cochere the door opens into splendid hall which extends through the house and has a lofty ceiling running to the roof. Wide doors on the opposite side of the house open on the porch and afford glimpses of the lawn in front and wooded slopes beyond. The ‘The country is broken by picturesque glades and wooded heights, and owing to its elevation, between 300 and 400 feet above the level of the ocean, there is an extended view to be enjoyed which is only limited on the south and south- west by the outlines of the great Blue range. To the south lies the city with the gleaming white dome of the Capitol and the graceful shaft of the monument as prominent features, while the river winds in and out in ite wooded slopes and is lost to sight in the low Virginia hills below Alosandriae hall is richly finisMed in hard woods and isfur- nished so as to appear tobe a room rather than a mere entranee to rooms. Spacious door- Ways on each side give accessto thesalons and parlors, the library and dining room. A view is given of the interior of one of the arlors. which is furnished simpl: ‘he characteristic feature of the interior is i openness. There is an abundance of widows and doors and the greathall extending through the house from north to south invites the move- ment of the air, which in summer time must be coaxed to stir itself with cooling f mous as the country | veland while President, is | seen among the trees. Woodley road is one of | favorite drives in the vicinity of this city, | ‘every pleasant day in the season a line of | fine equipages sweep past the broad entrance | to the grounds surrounding the home of Mr. | Hubbard. H The house is located some distance back from ‘the road and the place bas been given the name MR. CHAS. J. BELL'S ‘MR. C. J. BELL'S SUMME! ME. To the south of Mr. Hubbard’s residence, but on the same ample grounds, is located the cottage, as he is pleased to term it, of Mr. Charles J. Bell, the son-in-law of Mr. Hubbard. ‘The name, however, is entirely too modest for the very handsome house, where Mr. Bell and his family spend a portion of the summer eeason. Like Mr. Hubbard’s residence Mr. Bell's home is built of wood and the design is one of COUNTRY RESIDENCE. of “Twin Oaks,” which was suggested by the two | adfvl monarchs of the forest which rear towering heads just to the right of the house. | | A fine lawn sweeps down from the house to | the road aud through this lawn the roadway | winds to zhe main entrance. The natural beauty of tive place has simply been enhanced | by the touch of art. THE DESIGN. In selecting the design of the house, as well Railrond Wreck in Ohio. ‘There was a pad wreck on the Big Fyar failroad near Delwware, Ohio, last eveuing. A Passenger train due tere at 4:02 p.m. ran into a freight at the end of the yard, telescoping | the baggage car and tender of the passenger ( train. Jimmy Lrown+ll, a lad beating his way, | was instantly killed. Fireman Charles Kanklo { of the passenger train jymped from the cab to weve if and reccived sexious injuries. The wail clerk was also slightly was delayed for several hourm =~ j la the pleasing types of modern suburban arch” tecture. Thelines of the exterior as well as the color tones are in harmony with the handsome natural surroundings The interior is hand. somely finished a1 the convenience and comfort of the summer occupants. | The requirements of # count are made complete Dra fue building which fe unsa for a stable aud occupies in the rear position midway between the fwo houses. ie ‘The Queen of Roumsnis Very IL. Vienna dispatch says the condition of Car- mon Sylvia,Queen of Roumania, has become so is arranged with a view to DOROTHY AMES COUSIN Merab Mitchell tn Harper's Bazar. 66] )ID You ENJOY THE LECTURE?” ‘No, it made me shiver, and I shall dream and think of those starving children and overworked women for weeks. How cold itis! I wonder if we will ever get home.” The speakers were two fashionable Boston girls, and while their carriage is being rapidly driven to the beantiful mausion on Common- wealth avenue which they call home let me introduce them to my readers. Dorothy wasa year or two older than her cousin Annie,and although she was handsome! she was not nearly so much loved. Dorothy was avid to be very clever and an acknowledged authority on rare and old books, pictures and china. She was tall and dark, witha proud up- lifting of hor head that left its effect upon those who did not know her intimately. Her cousin was small, fair, and sweet-tempered. She had, asan Annex girl, distinguished herself, but had given up without a regret the recita- tion for the ball room aud Greek and Latin text books for morning calls, afternoon teas nd all the stately frivolties ef Beacon street and the avenue. a Both girls, in fact, had passed the “bud’ age, having’ graduated two seasons before from rehearsal “rush” seats and fresh cara- mels to hours at the picture and art exhibits, Saturday night symphony concerts, and enter- tainments. becoming young women of three- and-twenty. It was Annie who intended to shiver and dream for weeks to come over the pitiful tales of suffering so graphically described by the Rev. Donald Stan! ‘oung man who was for the time Boston ‘society initiation into the “charmed set” had been an odd one. E He had brought a letter of introduction to Madam Kentworths from her youngest son, who was traveling in Europe, and was enjoying in his way the hospitality of her iovely home near Nahant when the opportunity came. She had issued cards for an autum-leaf lawn party and among the entertainments provided was to be a choice selection of music by several mem- bers of the Symphony Orchestra, but when the time came they did aot appear. ' “Have missed the train,” #o the telegram read. What should she do? ‘And while trying todecide Donald Stan- hhove lad como to her ussiatance by suggesting or offering to tell u string of stories of od things that he had seen and heard while on an extended trip in the far south. ‘he very thing!” And while he went for his note books madam saw that the necessary preparations were made and « chosen few advised of what was to be cted. % Pep to this time no one had paid much atten- tion to him—althongh, of course, he was not entirely neglected—so that when he came to madani's assistance she wondered that she had not noticed before how handsome and well dressed he was. ‘Jack always had good taste inhis friends,” she thought to herself. = here uever was a luckier hit. The stories that Donald Stanhope told were of southern negro life and ways, and #0 well did ne inte pret them that from that moment he became the fashion, and not to know or have dined “Young Stanhope” was to acknowledge one's self far behind the times. He was seen every- where where wealth und culture were to be found. When heentered the music hall peo- ple turned in their seats to watch or greet him; during the waits he would go from group to group and was always joyously received: He had a knack of saying and doing just the cor- Tect thing, of leaving at the right moment, of dressing in perfect taste and of giving pleasure wherever he went. Who he was people never stopped to ask; he had come and seen and con- quered them. And even if there been a doubt as to his right within the charmed circle of Beacon street, no one had dared to give vent toit. He was simply delightful. Among bis most ardent admirers were Dorothy and Aunie, and although neither would have acknowledged it to tue other, they both cared more for the stranger than they knew. Perhaps “gentle Annie,” as her friends called her, was more interested in his welfare than her cousin; aud because of this she it was who first began to have doubtsabout him. She had even gone so far as to say, “I believe Don- ald Stanhope is playing a part,” and had then subsided into silence when’ she saw what a whirlwind of surprise and indignation she had raised in Dorothy, who, after being properly severe, and assuring her cousin that he would never have been received in Beacon street if he had not been all that was required, suddenly ned and said: ‘EWrell, now Lcome to think aboat it, who is and where did he come from?” And then resuming the picce of embroidery she was busy with whe wad —Why, Consin Annie, what are we saying and thinking? Of course ho isa gentleman.” “He came from Nehant, so I have heard it said,” quietly asserted Annie, half fearing and yet half delighted at the doubt she had raised in her cousin's mind. Dorothy would never love or marry a man of “low degree.” As for herself—well, it was true she was in lov hopelessly in love, with this handsome, giited stranger. But true love seldom has asmooth road at first, and she was sure that he did not caro for hier (and, she hoped, for no one else), for the night on which our’ story opens he had made every one feel so keenly the suffering on all sides of them, and had spoken #0 eloquently and so urgently on ench one’s duty to those leas fortunate than themeelves. His “parlor ies," as his lectures were called, were never given for money, and therefore he dared many opinions that money could not have bought. ‘They were not sermons—far from it; they were simple stories, with » tremendous lot of information that wus new in its way to the peo- Je who gathered about him; and in telling his their duty he did it in such a way that not even the most haughty or fashionable dame could have taken offense. ‘This was perhaps more possible in Boston than in most cities, for a true Boston woman is never so delightful as when discussing the best methods of charity; they all belong to help or improvement societies. And the daintiest belles will flock to ‘frinity to cut cut red flamuels, or hold meetings and read papers on the best methods of lifting the poor; and they de a deal of good. And so one scarcely wondered at the fashionable and cultured atidience that had accepted Mrs. Tom Greenleaf’s invitation to cream and cake ot 8, knowing well that the Rev Donald Stanhope was sure to be there and would talk to them. Both Dorothy and Annie were there, and both had left Mrs. Greenkaf's parlors determined to do something, and each planned in her own way what she would do and how she would set about doing it. ; “I shall ask his advice first,” said Dorothy to hervelf, while her cousin shrank from even letting him know that he had given her a desire to be anything but a girl of “words, not deeds.” as he bad made an oid colored woman in one of his stories call a wewing society of balf a dozen girls who had taken three months to make two nnel wrappers. ‘The next morning found Dorothy dressed in her prettiest walking costume, and on her way to a Tremont street chrysanthemum show, where she felt pretty sure of meeting many of her friends, and perhaps Donald Stanhope him- self. ‘Annie, uneasy and unbappy, had watched her start, and thought how handsome and correct ahe was, while she could think of nothing but her own inability and weakness, and when » deantiful bunch of roses bearing the card o! young man with whom she had coquetted only ‘a few evenings before was brought to her, she could have cried with shame for her falseness, as sbe called it, and with the sudden awaken- ing of how much, how very much more Donald Stanhope was to her than any other man and how unworthy she’ was of him in every way. ‘Then the sun, which had been ciouded sll morning, barst forth in all its splendor and sent a ray of light across the flowers, that secmed still wet with dew, and in some way Annie felt that they bad forgiven her, and she lifted them tenderly. Half an hour later found her walking briskly across the common, bent on what she called a very small errand. But how little we know what and whom we may mect when we leave our own doorstep before returning again; often ‘a whole life is changed between the front door and the gate. Moth tas witheAmsia, Jest ae she reached ‘the West street crossing she was importuned by an old man for help, and while in the act of emptying her, little ‘silver purse into his out- stretched hand some one said: “It i better to give than to receive always, is it not, Miss Ames?” It was Donald Stanhope, and Annie turned, with joy in her heart, toward the young man. “No, not always, Mr. Stanhope. ‘There are some things 1 am longing to receive.” “What, for instance?” Anvie did not auswer, and after walking on for e few moments Donald said: “Are you on pleasure bent this lovely morn- critical that Dr. Charcet, the celebrated Pari- | yes. ‘4 n physician, has been telegraphed for. King Charles is reported on his way to Venice from Roumania. Dr. Theodore, the Queen of Bou- mania’s private physician, says that the queen is suffering from epi roan exoeping There are isease of the cardiac at of organic ‘ou can doa great kindness as well as give Pleasure to some one who fe in need of if You will.” Annie felt her face grow crimson and her heart seemed to stand still. She stooped Suswine = “There, that iv an illustration of what I am 0lng to ask you to do.” ig Po perigee ner gomerenipirst hepes "g said, time looking him in the face, for her woman's heart divined be wan not love making. ‘Edo, Will you?” “Then we must retrace out steps across the ope lorious this time, and was a morning b; an simply to. Ifve was « ‘ploentve 70 it secmed 10 Annie as she and Donald threaded their way across the common, along Charles streetand up Cambridge, turning into quiet little court of old-fashioned houses, but poorly kept. As Donald lifted the knocker of one of the smallest but best looking, he said: “I have told you nothing about the person 1 am taking you to see, for i think it best yon should find out for yourself. One thing, however, I am very sure of, and that is that you will find her a lady in many ways." lere the door was opened, and after request- ing that Miss Amos be shown to Miss Brace's room, be said good morning, leaving Annie half afraid of what she bad undertal en, and surely not at ail prepared for the task. She hesitated a moment before following her guide, a little old woman, who wes saying: “Tam trély glad thee hae come; the poor child has been sore put to this morn. Annie wanted to ask a dozen questions and the thought of all the perfectly proper inquiries her cousin Dorothy would have insisted on ask- ing and on having answered before “under- taking the case.” Just as they reached the head of the stairs she said, timid! ly: “Is Miss Brace very ill?’ ‘The question was answered by Nellie Brace herself, for a door opened at the end of tl hall, and there, in a flood of sunshine, stood young girl beautiful golden hair. $I stepped hesitatingly into the passage, with out- stretched hands, as though to shield horeelf; and there was need, for she was blin ‘ait a bit, dear,” said Annie's guide. ‘Here ina young lady come to see thee—a friend of Mr. Stanhope’s.” It is very kind,” began Nelli Auniesaw her opportunity, and taking Nellie’s hand, said eweetly: “My name is Annie Ames. Let me take you back to your chuir, unloss,” she added, “there is something 1 can get for you out bere.” ‘0, we will go back, please.” After both were seated Neliie began, ina timid way: “It is very kind in you to come. . I lonely since my trouble came, for work is my only friend. No, 1 do not mean that,” she added ‘quickly, at my constant friend, and it has been five ys now wince I had my last look at it.” ‘ell me,” said Annie, “are you ® Boston o, I am @ Texan,” said Nellie, « little roudiy. “I was born. brought up and always ived there until two years ago, when J came to Boston with a lady as nurse for three little chil- a She went abroad, and since then I have made a living by doing fine embroidery;” then adding very gently, as though it were expected of her: “My fatuer, mother and home all went “Don't, don’t,” said Annie. to question you,” did not come toralresdy Annie's heart was aching for the girl. “Lou must have suffere and want to be a friend. 1 want to help you, aud I only want you to tell me how I can do it} nothing more.’ ‘here was such sweet assurance in Annie's voice and words that the poor girl before her could not doubt her new-found friend's wish aud wiil to help her, and she poured forth he trouble in even its smallest details. ‘That which seemed to fret her most wax not being able to finish a set of embroidered napkins tat were te be used at a tashioauble wedding breaktas\ ‘here were three wozen and ull but five of the wt dozen were le ‘The stitch was a ditticalt, old-fashioned one, and uot many were able or willg to do it. |e person wo had ordeved them bad insisted on the work being delivered by the 15th of the month, and it was now the 10th and they were not tiished, uor could she hope to be able to do them now, and | as she lad been compelled to disappoint ber employers weverul times before on account of her eyeright, they had mades bargain with her about this work ibat it sue did not bring it at the appointed time she should only receive half pay. ‘That very moruing she hat decided that it would have to be returned unfinisued, as the doctor had said no work tor two months. “Let me see the work or tell me where I can raid Aunie, remembering the other irl's helplessness, “Thank you; it is in the top drawor of my work tabl ‘A faint odor of rose leaves filled the room as Annie opened the drawer, and there, in neat ittio piles, lay some of the most beautiful hand work Annie had ever sec “Why, where did you from what establishinen ‘From O. & B. 3,” said Nellie. “Oh, you poor, poor girl! Why, I ordered this work, and indecd you shali not ‘suffer for it, Why, Nellie, 1 used to be very wkillrul at this stitch, and that is why 1 ordered it used: like it so much. Now 1 will tell you what I am going todo. Lam going to finish this work Inyeclf, and in the nibantime you must get well 1 will'see Mrs. Dun—that “is the landlady’ name, I think you said—and arrange with her to tke cure of you and let no one see you. You sec, I have always insisted on having your lark on my work, so it is now necocsiry that it be not known that you are unable to work. {shail come and see you every morning, and You must get well just an quickly as poswibie, for there is w great deal tu do. You said Dr. H— Was visiting you, and 1 know you could not be in better hands. It was, perhaps, strange that not once did Annie remember Donald Stanhope during her visit, nor bad the girl spoken of him. Aunie had nearly reached home when she re- membered that it was ho who had been the cause of ull her happiness that morning; for she had been happy in giving happiness. Kefusing herself to ali callers, she set herself to work at once to trace out the difficult and exquisite pattern which had caused poor Nellie so much trouble, and it was nearly dark when she discovered the key to'it; and Lam sure she felt prouder of her day's work than slie did the day ‘she carried off the Aunex prizes, afew years before. And she worked so diligently that the napkins were sent off to 0. & B.'s at the appointed time. ‘hey soon came back to Annie done up in little bundles of +ix, tied with daincy ribbons aud folded in perfumed paper. A’ bill tor $250 accompamed them and two weeks later Nellie received ¥75 us her share. How the two girls did enjoy it all! And as Nellie’s eyes were really getung better, she had been allowed one peep at the finished work Lefore it was vent to the wedding feast. It was not long atter that Aunie persuaded Nellie to make her home with her. The two girls enjoyed a great deal together, aad Nellie’s Jovely nature developed wonderfully in the happy home and emong friends. A strange thing was that neither Annie nor Donald Stanhope ever spoke of Nellic; neither knew exuctly why. Annie did not want to be praised or questioned about what she had done and liked to do, and Donald divined this. Aud after that first attempt to explain who she was to Annie Nellie had never referred to the subject. Aunie was thinking of this one morning when Donald’s card was bronght to her. She had not seen him for some time, and she tried to hide the joy in her voice when she bid him welcome. “I have come on a strange errand, Miss Ames; a happy one for me. And I want to thank you first as far as it is powsible for your great kindness, yonr tender kindness, to my sister, my dear ‘sister, whom { have been in search of, and whose’ name is Nellie Brace ee this work? I mean, e ‘eae let me expiain to you first, as I have aright to, before seeing and claiming her. Our father, who was Scotch, was disinherited for marrying an English girl, and came to America under his mother's name, Brace, be- fore I was born, settling in Texas. ‘There both our parents died of fever when 1 was three and Nellie two years old. I, as the only grandson of an old Scotch lord, was sent to him, Neli being adopted by a ‘neighbor, as our ‘gran; father, who disli children, especially girls, lad mid he would have nuihing to do with hei nor would be do anything for hei In fact, I should never bave known of her’ existence, except fo ofold letters that came into m: trav ‘The only two things on was my taking orders and on staying away from Grant Court, his home. I never won him, although the last deed of his life was went, of course, to our old home. but found that her adopted ‘mother (a Mrs. Huston died, and all I could discover was that Nellie had come to Boston some time before. I knew she must be poor, and therefore I went in search of her among th te j i (ad and false came. Some way I thought of Fouatonce. Tfelt sure you bo goer te , 80 when I met you that morning I knew that you were the one sent, and oh, how grate- Iam, Miss Ames, thatI trusted you. And it was you who gave me the key to finding Nellie. — gay one eve! that Miss Brace was e Texas girl and that he, seamed to have no . Here the scales fell from my poor yen and what T hoped and longed for was come Pe det “Bho is a sister to be proud et me bring her to you,” said Annie, scarce realizing w! she was saying or doing. Who can describe the meeting between two loving souls who had lost and found each other after many days? Nellie had thought her brother dead, and had really known noth- ing of her grandfather. Why name had not suggested to Donald who she was was ono of those odd instances that ‘are unexplainable, and, in fact, he had traced the origin of a dozen Nellie ‘Braces, only.to find them not hi Nellie, but at last, in the most unexpected wi she had come to him. Such py trio as gpent tho day together! For Nellie, after the rst great Joy, could not be content until Annie joined them. Society never had a chance to wonder who Donald Stanhope was until it discovered that he was himeelt and some one else besides, and it will be many a day before the splendid wed- ding of Dorothy Ames’ cousin, little Annie Ames of Boston, and Sir Donald Stanho} Grant of Grant Court, one of Scotland's rich- st and most honored nobles, will be forgotten, or the good he did while in’ search of bis lost sister. ——__+e2 —_____ WITCHCRAFT IN ITALY. ‘The Terrible Experience of a Poor Woman in Milan. From the Spectator. Few English people are aware of the extrao dinary extent to which a belief in witchcraft is carried in Italy. As an illus:ration we give the following vivid sketch from the Secolo of Milan of some little time ago: ‘We seem to dream. But yesterday morning here in Milan something occurred which is true in every detail, even the most startling and terrible. “In Via Ripa Porta Ticinese, No. 61, ina modest room on the fourth story, dwells the family of a journeyman varnisher numed Mala- terra Franciosi, with his wife Virginia, aged twenty-five, glovemaker, and two children, one of whom us been ill for a month with some obstinate and strange disorder. A temale neigh- bor, who pretended to some knowledge of med- icine, declared that the child was bewitched, that it was needless to have recourse to phyni- ciaus or priests, the only meane of cure would be to discover the witch who had done the mis- chief, and that this done the cure would be immediate. The womun, as a great secret, after much entveaty, was to take the iid, put them Na pot of water and heat it. ‘The instant it would begin to boil the witck would be forced by an irresistible diabol and thus be Just as the pot began to boil, a Mie dl, wife of a work- mouths, who was on jay with a pair of wooden shoes to have them mended, came in? She was a friend of the Franciosi, and called to inquire as to the e child. Seeing her, Mrs. Franciosi , “Give it to the witch! Mrs. Michel- etti, thinking her iriend wax mad, tried to ‘u Ler; but the other, raging, roared loudly, ‘Help! The witch! And in an instant all the neiguborhood was out in a crowd and attacked Michelctti, seeking to tear her to. pieces. an ded, pursued by the raging cried, Dalli alla strega!’ (Give ir to the wite Micueletti, more dead than ali in the Chureh of Saute Maria del Nuviglio, aud the crowd rushed in, crying out and seeking a squarcingola (to teat her to pieces). ‘I. ‘hed wouan, kneeling at the grand altar, raisod her hands in suppl cation, sobbing, trembling, begging for mere: In vain. The wildest of ‘the aleywre pulled out her huit, treated her disgracefully and beat her without inerey. ‘Lhe priest (parroco) tan ac the ery and tried to shield her, but in vain, and was neat being trampled on kamself by the impetuous crowd. “With every abuse, to the house of the Franc stairs. In Finally the delegate, Omo- dei, with uid of guacdie, succeeded in dispersing the crowd, when Mrs. Franciosi. perceiving too Jate her anjardonuble telly, threw herself at the knees of her triend, begging her forgive- ness, declaring that another womau had coun- seled ber, and that what she had done w love of lier ehiid. inthe afternoon the Woman, accompanied by her husbund and ‘Sig. nore Uniedei, was tken to her home in » brougham and pat to Led. She was better next moruing, but still trembling from her suffer- ings. ‘the sad memory of this savage medi: no will long Le remembered in the suburb of Ports Ticinese. ‘fhe women who bad. torn the hair from the head of Mrs. Michelesti burned it, uttering incantations, and then :an to the house of the Franciosi to find J the child bad recovered. Aud as it was, according to them, much better, they cried: ‘See if it was not bewitched.’” It may interest the reader to know the details of the mystic ceremony of boiling the clothes. ‘The writer, who has made a very large col: lection of such current soreer 8, obtained the following in 1888 from a woman who had been regulariy educated as a “‘wite “Quando si ha uno bambino stregato” (when a babe is bewitched) “take the clothes of the child and put them in a pot to boil, inst at midnight. All the garments must go in, with the shoes and stockings. Then take'a new aud very large knife and sharpen it ata table and say, ‘Non intlo questo coltello,” &e. * 'Tdo not sharpen this knite, I whet the acensid wite. ‘That she « “Then the witch will probably appear at the window, or it may be at'the door, He the form of a cat or dog or specter. But be in no fear, for theee are Lut shifting forms (forme com- diate). And do not take’ the knile from the table, nor let the clothes cease to boil till 3 a.m. And being by this charm compeiled to appear and obey, the witch. being ordered, will remove the illness of the child. ‘There are several incantations to be pro nounced on burning the hair of any person whom we may wish to injure, the following being probably the one used by the women re- ferred to. When hairs are fouud they should bo burned while these lines are repeated: **Se set anima buona, Vain pace. Bosal una streza,” &e, ““If thon art a good soul, Go in peace! Har so thar tite pound May be heard a And bursting his chains, ‘May coie and take thee!” ‘Those ceremonies, and especially the incanta- tions, aro jealously guarded as great secrets among the ‘adepti, and even while practicing them they murmur the latter and conceal a portion of the former, , ———o-____ Slept in His Coffin, From the Chicago Herald. There has just died at St. Joseph's Hospital in Chippewa Falls an eccentric individual called Andreas Lowes. He was born in 1834 in lower Bavaria, His trade was a worker in woods, which he learned in the piano factory in Munich. Perhaps no man in the United Staton has acquired like skill in renovating wood work nd restoring its polish. About ten years ago built « repair shop, in which be lived, doing is own cooking, for he never married. He manufactured @ beautiful coffin composed of different kinds of wood, in which he slept, de- spite the persuasions of intimate friends: +e After Robbing the Mails. ‘From Puck. madman has been discovered in the Penn- sylvania mountains, beeps boarder who of 10s water.— Baltimore American. ae? CURIOS FOR MUSEUMS. Some Funny Adventures Met With in Gathering Them. FOSSILS AND MINERALS. A Talk With Prof. Ward on Collecting—Pick- ing Up Mineral Currant Bushes in Japan— Two Rig Salamanders—The Largest Gold Nugget Ever Discovered. 66f]VHAT BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF MINERAL formed of long shining bar-shaped crystals resembling steel has a curious story attached to it,” wid Prof. Henry A. Ward, the famons natural science collector of Rochester, toa Sran writer yesterda;. “It is antimony— a substance without which you could not print your paper very well, inasmuch as it is re- required to harden the types in the process of making them. A few years ago there were very few crystals known in the world of this bright ‘stibnite,’ as mineralogists call 1t, anti- mony having nearly always been found in dull crystals. At that time, therefore, such a specimen as this one would have been worth a great deal of money. “It was just my luck at that period tobe traveling in Japan. As usual, [was on a col- lecting tour, and it chanced that I had made up my mind to do the country in a rather ec- centric manner. I had hired a jinricksha and two men, and in this vehicle I caw what 1 could of the mikado’s empire, inside and cut. One afternoon we were going along a road at an easy gait, my hirclingy dragging the miniature buggy in a dog trot. when I saw in front of a a row of metal cnrrant jumping house what looked Ii bushes. I cried * i out, approached the curiosity. or some main- utes 1 could scarce believe my eyes, for the currant bushes quesiion were evidentiy masses of pure stibnite crystal ‘Lasked the people what they would take for them, and they put on what they thought was a high price. because they saw I was anx- o buy. ‘The bargaining ended with my taking the lot for about $75. One smill piece the wife of the owner insisted upon retaining, but neither of them imagined what was the fact—that I would have willingly paid for a scrap of that size as much as I gave fcr the en- tive quantity purchased. ’ *Tloaded my jinricksha as full as it would hold with the stuff and made my way back with it to the nearest town, whence I shipped it by express to Yokohama. It was a good day's work, for that one find paid theentire expenses ot ‘my tour throngh Japan, Borneo, Sumatra, New Gumes, New’ Zealand and Australia, with considerable mar- gin besides. [ sold $1,000 worth of the stib- nite before I left Japan, and up to the present time Ihave disposed of $4,000 worth of it,though T have a good deal left for sale. Perhaps you will buy this piece: it is only $75. Subsequent finds of the mineral have cheapened it a good deal, so that it is no longer worth more than @ third of its value at the time I speak of. It was while riding in that very jinrickeha japan tHat I came across two superb . I picked them up by the road- and they measured three fect each in Tput them into the vance, but was no telling where. I bad onl time to catch my steamer, but I decided to miss it if necessary rather thin lose my beautiful valamander. o 1 turned back after it and was fortunate enough to tind it in the road only a quarter of a mile back. A BIG NUGGET. “That gold nugget on the shelf above the stibnite is the biggest one ever found. No, that is not the original. but only a cast in plaster gilded. The original was come across funny way It was at Ballarat, Ans tralia, and the owners of the ‘hole’ had" gone away to lunch, jeaving a hired man digging in it with a pickax. Suddenly the pick struck something. The workman dug uround it to see what it was,and then he fainted. Pres ently the owners returned, and seeing the man lying in the hole they thought he was dead. One of them jumped in to see, turned the man over, and then he fainted also. The two were dragged out, and immediately digging was wildly begun for the nugget, which lay partly exposed. “The mass was so great that at first they thought they had come upon a reef of pure gold.” When they got 1 out it weighed 180 pounds and odd ounces. ‘The value was 41,000. it wus taken to England and exhibited there for a time: during which Iwasgiven an opportunit to makea mold of it. under sirict watch by ban officers, lest any of it should get away. he lump was dually melted aud turned into good English sovereigns, ROW HX FOUND LIVINGSTON. “I have often thought,” said the professor, in conversation later on, “that I would like to write a little acconnt about ‘How I Found ington.’ It was not in Africa, but in Lon- and the incident wasa rather odd one. I Wasa very young man then. It was in the early dys of my collecting for « livelihood, Iwas very poor. Incidentally to my work for « certain museum [ met Lord B—, a nobleman, who took a keen interest in science. was living in a six-penny lodging near London bridge, and { remember well the astonishment of my fellow lodgers when there came for me a #1 rb card of invitation to a reception at Lord B—'s mansion, with armorial bearings on it, It was puzzle with me whether to goor not, because Thad no dress suit, but at length I decided to do so. e footmen, as L entered the great house, stared at me with impudent astonishment, re- marking the black street suit I wore, but I pre- sented ‘my card, which was earcfully scruti- nized, lest there be some mistake, and so I could not be denied admittance. ‘As I went into the drawing rooms the butler announced, ‘air. Ward,’ in a hanghty voice, scanning me from head to foot. My lord shook hands with me and I passed on toa group of youths fault- lessly attired in evening costume, with whom I exchanged a few words, while they winked slyly ut each other, commenting aside upon the uuconventionality of my attire. “Incidentally I madea dreadful faux pas; for, veeing a very neat-looking maid arranging things abouta table in the adjoining apartment, I inquired innocently if she was Lady B— ‘This occasioned a snicker, and I could see that my question was repeated around. Altogether, it was very embarrassing, and I found myself very uncomfortable and quite ‘out of it.” Bo it went on until about 9 o'clock, when just about Cliquot vintage with very plensant feelings. 1 Went to thoee vineyards at one time for coliect- ing purposes, because at that point is an ont cropping of the ed, of the it geologica: basin of Paria, which is filled ‘with ail sorts et fossils of interest to the student of the earth's history. The mauager of the vineyards would not give me ageneral permirsion to dig lest J spoil the landscape, but he marked out a space on the ride of a bank and told me that I could tunnel into it as deep as I wanted. So I hired # couple of workmen at 40 cents a day each and found that I bad struck a mine of great cerithem giganteum shells—the largest univalve- that ever existed—which I sold for several dol- lars apiece, so that in a short time I made what was to me quite a big sum of money. ‘all the years that I was material in this fashion I sent dupli - lections to my home in Rochester, and when I went back there in 1861 I found ‘myself pos- sessed of what was bly in ite way the finest assemblage of fossils and minerals in &x- istenee. Rochester aubsequently raised $20,000 to buy it, and 1 wax given « professorship in the university there. Subsequently 1 went into collecting things zool: also, and at present I have in store houses there enormous quanti- ties of such material, including about 4,000 skeletons of iiving vertebrates alone. I manu- facture reproductions of wore than 300 extinct vertebrates in plaster and papier mache, in- cluding many of the monstrous reptiles ‘and maunnals of "the My collections of in- vertebrates, living and fossil, is very much larger. Collectors whom Lemploy and corre- spondents with whom I have bu: relations sen‘l me specimens from all skeletons, Akins, foonils, ab Written for The Evenin Star. ‘The Summer Girl, On the ocean's heaving bosom All the biiows hum her pr: And the echoes ring a weicome ‘From the distant shores aud bays, And the clouds around her hover, As they sail above the waves, And the sun in vellings cover, Like her thoughtful, willing slaves, All the zephyrs gently kiss her Aad rejoicing oaward go, all seem to mi 8 her As they surge aud onward flow. She appears to smoothe the water And to charm the winds to sleep, And to reign like Neptune's daugnter On the azure surging deep. She is winsome and #0 charming Tn her free and easy ways, That the fact is quite alarming How we treasure all she says. For she stays us, then she sways ua, Or transports us with a smile, And no afterthought deiaya us When she beckons us the wail While we would not taunt or tease ber For a dozen worlds like this, ‘We would give our souls to squeeze her Aud ituprint one burning kiss, ‘Then who wonders that we prize her, ‘Or for prising her can blame? ‘Though she hate an idolizer, We adore her Just the same. —B. T. Dorze. From the Detroit Free Press. The barber had adjusted the towel, patted is Victim's face and proceeded with the open- K Herape. It sounded like the noise of a street sweeper. “Do de razah hu'ht you, sah?” the barber asked. “Hurt me! Ishould say so. It about killed me.” le procured another and gave a Jong scrape. ‘How ‘bout dat one?” he asked. hat hurts worse than the othe Still another was brought out, and this time @ wail announced the result. “Dat'n bu bts yer too, do it?” “You infernal rascal, of course it does. What do you mean by getting me here and tearing the face off me? Haven't you got any good ra- zors: ; bose, but foh er fibe ob ‘em needed 3 fuce seemed right tender like 1 thought I'd je take de opperchunity ter tes’ ‘em an’ make ————+e+—_____ He Had the Bulge on Them. From the New York World. 1 hadn't but one cigar to offer, and there were four men onthe bench. In this emer- gency the man on the end observed: “Boys, it’s only enough for one to smoke, id I moves that it goes to the best eddicated of ue” ‘There was considerable growling at this, but holding the cigar aloft he Treating ‘The man who can spell the best gets the — ., The word is pneumonia. Go abead, jack. . Not one of the three dared tackle it and the end man calmly lighted the cigar and be- gan smoking. “How do you spell it?” I asked, as be looked ,” he whispered, it's n-c-w f course. Where Igot the bulge was in being in the hospital with it ks and I kept track of how the doc- tors spelled it.” ——————+es+-____ The Old Lights of London. From the Buslder. ‘The history of lighting the city isa subject of much interest. In remote times the city must have presented a very curious aspect there was no method of street lighting at all; the narrow, unpaved streets were deserted when darkness fell except by thieves, who found m the want of artificial illumination a splendid confrere to help them in their noo- turnal undertakings. Notwithstanding the ring tad of the curfew bell and the order that all tie! its and fires were to be extinguished when its sound was heard, it was soon found that a city could not conclude ail its business at 8 o'clock in the summer, or when darkness came over the city in the winter. Kindly die- posed citizens as early as the fourteenth cen- tury began to hang outside their Coors a com- mon candle made of rushes and coarse grease, and these gave # faint glimmer on moonless nights. We find that in the year 146, in the reign of Henry V, the citizens were called upon as a duty to light the streets, and although some obeyed the injunction the duty was ver; inadequately pertormed. ‘It was the custom then for aucient watch- 3 burning can- les placed on, the top of a long pole, thus IF SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION BAS prepared for the world’s fair at Chicago ® most interesting exhibit of the bunting and fishing industries of the northwest coast, Ber- ‘ing sea and the Aleutian archipelago, the sub- ject being Mustrated vividly by models and pictures, Before the bold Aleuts were exposed to the diseases and alcohol of the white man they were a far sturdier and braver race than now; Dut most courageous an! venturesome of them ail were the natives of the Akoon Islands, whe devoted their attention chiefly to the pursait of the humpback whales. These great cetacean® frequent the waters of that region in enor- ‘mous numbers, their schools literally number ing thousands, and the fearless Akoon hunters sought their capture in frail canoes, armed ‘With spears that were shod with barbed spikes of jade, as shown in one of the pictures. They would paddle far ont to sea the giant “blsck creatores that fed there, | rivi at tervals like gigantic porpoises to breathe, and strike the monstrous prey with unerring tween the blow bole end the back fin. No further effort did they make tosecure the mighty game, but the was left to slowly work ite way into vio tim's vitals. The latter took no notice what- ever of the wound when strack, bat dying later its huge carcass tlonted sabore, te be hicks cut up and utilized for food and oli, Danger was always imminent in this form of bunting. Not only migh but « ght rise beneath « boat fog Might atany time within @ few minutes hie the distant land snd am adverse wind drive the frail bark out into the ocesn, where certain death awaited the adventurous enilor. THEY NOW WUNT BARY WRALKE Supplies of coal oil and whisky bave now rendered the Akoon natives independent of whales and indisposed to the risks attending the taking of them. Another picture in the collection described shows bow the strait Eskimos still industriously pureue one jar industry in a vastly safer fashion. In sum- wer they erect great tripods along the shore, made of drift i nd perch upon them to watch for the appearance of cow whales with their calves. When such game ie tbey “tout after itin boats of walrus bide. They do not attack the mother whale, throw darts into the calf with inflated seals’ bladders overturn assailed agi floats on the surface, where it is danced to death. Its blubber and pacthens abe the flesh betas not used except in times soarcit: skin is regarded ase particu- larly delectable dish toasted. DRIVING SEA LIONS, Another picture shows the manner in which sea lions are taken in Bering sea. When they have “hauled up" at night on the beach men creep along on theit bands and knees close by the water Line, so as to cut off the animale from ‘Then they jump up, shout and fire off pistols, the result being « wild panic among the poor beasts, which skurry in every direc tion to escape. ‘Some run into the ing the hunters troub while oth ter ai Perhups, in corralling 150 or 200 animals and drive off the unwilling flock to the killing ground. This is the method foliowed on ®t Paul's, which is one of the two fur seal islands, and it takes from ten days to three drive the sea hous to the village of St. eleven miles away. If the weather is in is wet the task be performed imum time. Supposing that there is « bot dry spell, driving cannot be done at all. usual plan is to compel the luckless flock to through as many pools of water as is possible ‘on the way over, in order that the animals may , but under the most favorable conditions many die from exhaustion en route. Not only are their hides useful for mak- ing bonts, but their blubber is greatly prized for cooking purposes, being inodorous and agreeable, whereas the blubber of the fur seal ts most offensive to the taste and smell. ‘TAE SEA OTTER. Another interesting product of the chase in the northwest I acific is the sea otter. It is an imal about 4 feet long, and ite skin is so re- markably elastic that’ it may be readily stretched to 6 feet. In fact, as a dealer in clothing would say, ite coat is enormously too big for it. This, howover, is not a disadvantage from the commercial point of view, insemuch as the far is extremely valuable, o le hide of first-rate quality often worth $500. To capturo this animal the Aleurs of Ounalaske ave carried in the vessels of white traders 200 or 300 miles to the islands 4 ye the game. The hunters are left on tor three or four months, the arrangement being thst, in exchange for the carrying of them- selvesand their bouts, the natives shall give the traders a first option on the furs secured. ‘The hunters take nothing with them in their fragile boats but rome flour, r, tubacco, tea anda little cotton tent course they carry firearms also, and these are of the Sret- rate Winchester make. Usually they shoot the otiers asleep on the water, but after a long storm of several days, when the animals are tired out and have crawled upon the rocks to. take needed repose, they seize the opportunity and interrupt their dreams by clubbing them to death. eroup of the unfor- ‘A model in clay shows a tunate walrus, soon destined to extinction. Being incapable of defense against man, not- withstanding thetr enormous tusks, and having small power of locomotion, they are readily attacked and finished with sj while on hore, contributing the to the worker in ivory and their whiskers for opium pipe jicks at a penny apiece, prized by the Chinese. fore long they will have met the fate of the huge sea clephunt, whose cambrous dinensions caused it to be wiped from the face of the earth. Wonderful it is how man assumes the fanctions of the Creator, producing by artificial selection the dog from the wolf and useful domestic animals from wild types, at the same time urrogating to himself the right to annii- late off-hand species for the evolution of which ages have been required. KILLING FUR SEAL, A series of models and pictures shows the manner in which far seals are taken and killed for market on the islands of St. Poul and St. George, where are located the famous rooker- ies in Bering sea—almost the last refuge on earth of these valuable beasts, which once swarmed in the South Pacific and elsewhere. One sees the “bachelors” being driven to the killing grounds by shouting Aleuts, waving cloths, over a path worn through the there was a bustle without, and the butier an- nounced in # loud voice, ‘Mr. Robert Living- ston.” The great explorer was at that time the lion of London society. He entered, and Lord B— and himself literally fell into each other arms, for they admired each other greatly. WHY HE WAS OLAD To BEE HIM. “Then it was that I began to feel better, for Livingston Africauus was attired not in even- ing dress at all, but actually in a pea jacket,and without either collar or cuffs. My own a tionality was thrown into the shade. Of course, every one gathered about the explorer, who was the guest of the evening, and discourse naturally fell upon what Mr. Stanley has since galled the ‘Dark Content.’ “Lord staked vingston some question respectin, “ citce Soumliy, sheng ten’ Welt ef Bank ooh tes latter replied that he had never been there. “I have long wished,’ he said, ‘to fiud some one who had visited ‘that, country could tell me something abont it, never been so fortunate.’ “ ‘Pardon me,’ I said, breaking. for the frst time into the conversation, ‘if I interrupt you to say that I myself have been all through thé Diafira country and it will give me great pleas- ure atany time to tell you anything J can about isd rmectiaprmet ype nae ore what pat; but Livingston immedioicly” bocasse ny terested and pe with ion fil if a hting in some small way the streets over ich they perambulated. It was in the reign Of Quen Eltzabeth that the fear of a Bpeeieh invasion drew attention to the daugerous con- dition of the streets at night. ‘The darkness might hide foul conspirators; grass and mossy uplands by myriads of redecessors. Most unfortunate is the jor seal, not only because he is not to haul up on the shore with the i G i i i § Pry i age HH hil a i oFEY chee ik i inn i j 4 li Hl i j I li f f j Hi H H if !