Evening Star Newspaper, June 11, 1892, Page 7

Difference Between Their Former Manufacture and Now. THE TREE AND ITS SAP. How the Juice is Collected by the Natives— The Processes of Manufacture—Goodyear’s Invention and Its Result—The Maximum Supply of Kaw Rubber Reached. look well—handsomely made and shiny, but they are not going to last me, good a they look, more than = few rubbers I used to buy twelve or thirteen years ago were rubbers that would outwear three or we, four pairs of the best you can buy now.” 80 speaking as he fitted a pair of new rubbers to his feet, the old gentle- Man brought first one foot down and then the other firmly, handed the quiet clerk the dollar asked, and tnen raising his umbrella be went out arm in arm with Tux Star writer. “I know what I am talking about,” he added, as we went down the street. “My father and his father before him were in the rubber busi- ness and I havea pair of one of the first pure and simple rubber shoes ever made. They are @dull rusty red and about as brittle now as glass, I guess, for ther have stood up, unused, @* @ curiosity since 1546. Now, young man, the fact of the existonce of a milky juice in many | them when their tis- | plants, which flows frc is Sues are injured, is a fact that has been famil- iarls known from time immemorial. ever, really only a recent matter of discovery that this particular milky juice of the rubber tree (siphonia elastica) waa of any real economic WATCHING THE SaP RUN. Value to man. It was rot until the expedition of the French academicians to South America in 1735 that its utilityand nature was made known to Europe by a memoir published upon it by M. de la Condamine. This notice excited little Then again subjects of is in 1731 by M. quer. It was se little thought of py economical man. how- ever, that not until and 1806 did it even Geta notice in Great Britain. Then it eame re in small pieces. dark reddish lumps, which were used for rabbing out black lead pen- cil marks and that gave it the name of rubber, which it wears, though the native name in South America, where most of it comes from, Was then and is now ‘caoutchouc.” CHAS. GOODTEAR'S INVENTION. “By 1820 the substance was molded into water- Proof boots and shoes, but the color of the ma- | terial was so disagreeable that no one liked to Wear it unless literally obliged to. But along by 1830 Charles Goodyear began to experiment at Philadelphia on the employment of ‘gum elastic, as we also called it then. s0 as to fit it for generul use bya particular nitric acid cess, which he so perfected m 1536 that he about volved the problem, and by 1839 he had settled the difficulty and succeeded in vuleaniz- or ebonizing India rubber by means of sulpbur. He kept improving his processes and took out over sixty United States patents before he died im 1860. “Well, the result of this work of Goodyear ‘Was to make the rubber boots, shoss and ecats at once and sightly articles of weari gear. and the demand was suddenly i and has been steadily increasing ver since, for supply of the raw material. To give you some Beat the jump which it made then in 1530 only 50,000 pounds of ratural cacutchouc was im into the whole market of Great Britain; in 1342, or about two years after Good- year had produced a clean shiziv black shoe, the ‘British market called for $00,000 pounds, and todwy the amount has prodigiously increased over these figures not only in Great Britain, but the United States and all the rest of the civilized world; this immense demand of thou- sands and thourands of tons annually for every market on the face of the earth. What whole aggregate is I dare not way. This dema.id has set all the natives of India, of Madagaecar, ef South America, of Java and of Central America and tbe Indian archipelago bard at the work of tapping the rubber forests of their na- tive lands. Hard as the natives are driven, yet they have not been able to get the full supply demanded at any time during the last decade; but the dealers must have just «o many pairs of shoes every vear. and the manufacturers man- age to keep th the orders by making such flimsy delicate shifts as this pair I have just put on is. In other words they use not balf us | Much rubber in the make up of these shoes as they ought to use. THE MAXIMUM LIMIT OF SUPPLY. “Now, I believe that we bave fully reached the maxirout limit of raw rubber supply, that it will never be any greater and we shall be Jucky if it does not steadily grow less. But we have not reached the full limit of demand. More boots and shoes will be called for every year and we shall buve them sent to us cast thinoer and thinuer untl the sham will declare iteelf to the dullest buyer. What we will do then I don't know. Perbaps come inventive genius will find a substitute ‘A rubber camp in one of the South Ameri- can or Indian districts pute me im mind some- what of « maple sugar grove as it is worked in , Vermont or Ohio, only everything about the luce is wilder, darker sad ruder. The natives outa e trench or bole at the foot of the rubber tree, which is nota large tree, never much larger than ten to twelve inches in diam- eterand fifty or six high. They then f this tree, which fe make an incision in the trunk o is just about the same cut that a pine tree cut for resin down in North Carolina exhibits. “The caoutchouc, when in the tissues of the tree, is fluid like that of the pines, but it coagu- lates so quickly when it drops down into the earthen trench prepared for its reception that nothing escapes by filtration down into the earth, and in this receptacle, as it runs from the ‘twee, it forms a solid mass ‘similar in external character to vegetable albumen, of @ rusty or @ brownish or agrayisb-red color. It is dense and bard andit may be by proper manipulation Tolled out into a flat sheet so as to look like a side of leather. “In the state of ‘recent coagulation, or while only a few days from the tree, this aap possesses a degree of plasticity which enables the vatives to press it into molds of various patterns, but | the greater part of the raw rubber which our factories receive comes in the rude form of the trench or hole into which it dripped from the trees. “Of course, the pure rubber is now adul- terated even in the forests themselves by the threwd natives and taskmasters, who run in the of many other kindred trees, which in them- selves are of little or no value, but which rudely amalgamate with the genuine sap. WHY OLD RUBBERS ARE OF Xo USE. “People often ask why it is that the old rubbers are never of any use—why they are not made ever into new ones—into « sort of rubber shoddy. perhaps. The reason is that when ees Fahrenheit, and to which temperature it goes in the process of manufacture into boots and shoes... change takes place in its adhesive substance which oa cooling does not recover the primitive properties of caoutchouc, and the rubber once made up can nover be remade successfully. | en; ‘The particular species of plants which are | ver, wi RUBBER SHOES. THESE RUBBERS | It.is, how- | simy Toad | ale rubber is once raised to a temperature of 150 hya of tropical Amerfea utilis), which yields a milky by the natives in the district where it grows, just as freely as our maple sirup makers drink ‘the sap of their sugar groves. pa ie NS DRINKS FOR NEXT TO NOTHING. Making an Alcoholic Beverage by Patent Plan Out of Sugar and Water. HE OLD GENTLEMAN LOOKED LIKE A months, still served as an habitual gathering | center for the conversationally disposed, His | remarks were received with respectful atten- tion by four or five strange beings—a broken- down musician, with » nose resembling a cold | sweetbread, a last survivor of the office-seeking brigade that marched on the capital’ at the be- | ginning of the present administration, a shabby | colonel, wearing the cloak and general aspect of brigand, and a street fakir, whose stock in| trade was in pawn with the hotel clerk for a | meal. | “The chief cause of misery in this world is the squandering of money on ram!” declared | the old gentleman, tilting back his wooden | | chair and looking around at his auditors forap- | Proval of the sentiment. ure, wonder that | palled “when 100 [ opel em drink bill—hundreds of millions of | dollars spent every year for intoxicants. What | | a horrible waste!” || “Net, what is life without whisky?” said the broken-down musician. ‘ce am not declaiming against alcoholic stimu- fresh | “Alcohol ought to be one of the ches] manufactured products,” the speaker con: “It can be obtained readily from almost any- thing vegetable. Every tribe of savages in the world consumes vome sort of fermented liquor. In tropical countries certain ‘and several varieties of pitcher plants brew ready-made | bevernges that are highly stimulating. Why, | then, ebould we pay such an exorbitint prise for rum?” “Why, indeed?” echoed the street fakir in = hoarse voice. “Whatever reason there may bave been ex- ists no longer,” said the old gentleman. “The | problem has engaged my attention for years and I have solved it at last. Far from keeping | my discovery to myelf, I desire to make it public, in order that the luxury of alcoholic | stimulation may be brought within easy reach of the most impoverished.” | “By Jove!” exclaimed the colonel, while the others drew up their chairs eagerly to listen. | “My invention is a process for manufactur- ing an agreeably into: beverage at! almost no expense, raw js costing next to nothing and the labor involved being nil. fact, the work is all performed by a fungus. vegetables could only be made to do all the toil in this world animals would be able to enjoy » rest." “Hear! hear!” said the office seeker. | | “The materials required are simply sugar and water. Take an eight-quart tin pail. ll it two-thirds full from the hydrant and add -three Pounds of sugar. | Common brown sugar is best cause it is cheapest. Then buy a penny’s worth of ordinary yeast and stir it in with the mixture. Fifteen cents for the sugar and 1! | cent for the yeast make 16 cents expended. All. | that remains is to leave the stuff alone for a week; the yeast, which is a fungus plant, will do the rest.” | “The rest of what?” queried the street fakir anxiously. j “As Iwas going to say,” the old gentleman went on, “the fungus develops in the mixture, | feeding ‘upon the sugar and producing the phenomenon which is called fermentation. A jt of the fermentation is the production of alcohol from the sugar. The yeast plant sends its branches in every direction, growing with wonderful rapidity. Finally, when it has used up the available food, it dies. The fermenta- tion then stops.” | “What happens next?” asked the musician with the cold sweetbread nose. | “The fungus sinks to the bottom: and leaves a clear liquor, which is readily pouted off and | bottled. I happen to have a pint in my inside ket, which I will offer each of you a taste of. Ne how is that! ‘Quite an aromatic flavor!” m, ame] pe. ace Teele what Tsay,” the old gentleman lared, beaming in a gratified manner apon Mentions thie liquor has the flavor of an | aromatic wine. Furthermore, it is greatly im- proved with age. From six to seven quarts of it can be made for 16 cents, and, while less in- toxicating than whisky, it is fully as much so as One can produce it by the barrel full or '¥ quantities for the cost of the sugar and a y ‘There is no government tax on it| and the p ‘cess involves no labor. being per- tormed by .he fungus. Let this discovery of | mine once become generally known and every | one will become his own compounder of alco holic stimulants. The saloons will all be closed | for lack of busizess and the-earnings of the , workingman will no longer be squandered for | rum.” Fi “It's the greatest idea I've heard of since a friend of mine and meself, with a straw apiece, worked the jars of fish preserved in spirits at | the Smithsonian,” said the street fakir. And the others all agreed. — } Some Famous Finds. From the London Standard. } The recovery of the Spanish gulleon wrecked off Hispaniola, of which the bullion was secured | by some English speculators in 1637, has cost | Jater generations dearly. The Duke of Albe- marle, governor of Jamaica, received £90,000, | the royal share was £10,000, gentlemen who | had adventured £100 took £8,000 to £10,000. | Innumerabie have been the disastrous enter- | prises which this success promoted. Within | the last few years we sawa company formed | to recover Napoleon's army chest, sunk with | the vessel that contained it, at the battle of | Abukir. © Perhaps the most interesting find, saving | those wondrous tombs in South Russia, was the “Treasure of Guarrazar,” dircovered in 1858, | Some peasants traveling near Toledo noticed cbjects of gold and Jowel work washed partly reke out of the ground by heary rains. They ivided them. | Happily. an | 4 7 Ctr | them to pieces and intelligent man heard the story in time, up every fragment, pieced all together | and fled t0 Paris, whore be sold the lot to the Musee Cluny. The objects proved to be eleven | crowns—-mostly “votive” —of Gothic monarehs who ruled Spain during the seventh century. Of the owner in two cases there is no doubt at | all, for they bear his name in letters of gold | | hanging by gold chains from the circlet, with a | jewel pendant from each letter. = bears the simple inscription, “Suinthila,” who rei fon eneane the other, “Besenevttnes | j His date was 649-672 A.D. Two, if “not more, are queens’ crowns. One, the largest, irty big sapphires thirt, paurts of great alec; below” hangs xf with lar; phires and pearls, which, again, | fies joweled pendant. But we ‘must not de: Bar any scribe minutely objects which are, better now. to antiquarians at least, pieces of goldsmiths’ work e: 3 The “Treasure of Hildesheim™ slso | tone. It was found by soldiers | for siege Factice near the town of in 1860. We cannot doubt that this | trouvaille was the “camp equij very rich ‘traveler, probable Ryn ey bat " pees call them, of a table, stands for lam} | other things | lovely; a z el ig fey it e i | | Of seasonable | afraid, has been thrown a From All the Year Round. CHAPTER I. WO YOUNG MEX, well and fashionably dressed, were saunter ing down the Strand, smoking and laughing. When they reached Catherine street they turned off and made toward Drury Lane. They proceeded some distance in silence. Then the younger of the two commenced: “Isay, Walter, I am getting tired of these ‘smokers.’ You know I did not want to come to this one and I only consented to please you. The thing is fat, stale and unprofitable, and, after this, I shall cut the whole concern.” “Nonsense, man! What possible objection can you have? You're « prime favorite with | the whole club snd when you attond you are always voted to tho chair or the vice chair.” “Oh, yes, that’s all right enough. club itself I'm disappointed in. asked mo to join a lierary and artistic club I expected I was going to associate myself with a very different class of people. I expected to meet’ with men of wit and wisdom; instead of which, with the exception of yourself and one or two others, they are the veriest lot of duffers Tever came across. If literature and art can't roduce something higher and better than the Fellows wo meetat these ‘smokers, I pity the two professions they are supposed to rep- resent.” « “Pshaw! My dear fellow, you can’t expect men always to be riding the high horse: they must unbend sometimes. I'm sure ‘Tho Ca- naries’ are as jolly a lot of fellows as you can meet in a day's march.” “Ob, yee, jolly enough, but so dreadfully vulgar.” P'in'sick of the whole concern. concerts are nothing better than drunken or- sticking yourself up on a you were wiser and better t! mankind. At any rate, if of your appropriate time and a more congenial andi- nce, * e “All right, old fellow!” replied Joe, “only destal us though ou want to give one understand that this is my last appearance | «tory fitted in so closely with certain covert al- but here we are.” among ‘The Canari The two ern, ascended a broad flight of stairs and en- tered a large room on the first floor. were assembled some forty or andafthe two young m there was a considerable and after a good deal of 6] warm welcome from the Mr. Walter, Neame was voted to the chair an Mr. Joseph’ Gregson to the vice chair and the business of the evening commenced. As the concert progressed Joe Gregson did y individuals, jount of applanse, aking of hands and assembled company not feel inclined to 2 of the musical abilities of ‘i Some English ballads were fairly well sung, but the comic portion was mediocre and vulgar, and, being himself « fairly well-educated musician, egson’s soul rebelled against it, progressed the libations of the party were of a rather extensive character, fortunately, Mr. Greg-on, though not appreciating bad music, sectned to fully under- stand the value of good liquor, and his orders for “another whisky” were frequent. Walter Neame noticed this with satisfaction: he did not want this young fellow to ¢lip through his fingers. It was also noted by one of Mr, Neame’s sup- porters, who whispeced: “Your friend Greg- son's going it rather fast. When do vou pro- pose to admit him into the inner ¢ “Allin godt time,” replied M “If matters are pushed too sharp we shall lose him altogether “‘Haght you are, my Loy. I'm not the one to spoil sport by precipitation, only I've set my heart on the bank business. If we were to suc- ceed what a swag there would be!” “Just so,” replied Neame that’s a long way off. He t: the club altogethe tonigh © “He'd better not try # hat game.” replied the The Cana-ies are not likely co stand so he can’t peach.” “And he wouldn't if he did, “If we once get hold of him he'll be and true as the best of us.” CHAPTER IL The following morning Mr. Joseph Gregson felt remarkably seedy, and at one time he con- templated sending a note to the manager asking | €a%¢l to be excused on account of illness, but then he had done this so many times lately that he thought it unadvisable. strong coffee und a pi a brandy and sods, and started for the city. Hehad not lon his seat at his desk when the messenger cai him and informed him that he was wanted in the manager's room. Of course he knew well enough that he was in for a wigging: but he put -me-up in the shape of “Sit down, Mr. Gregson,” said Mr. Be kindly; “I want to have some talk with y Gregson did as be was bid and the old gen- tleman proceeded: It’s the | When you! seed into a brilliantly lighted tav- | i} | These | -y = to your mother at once.” replied the elder man, “don’t be | thin i red the room| the thing. However, he knows nothing, | | So, after a cup of | holiday e pulled himself together | be joll old face and entered the room with « bow. | “You know that since you have been in our employ [ have alweve taken a kindly interest in your Welfare we given yous good deul , Upon which, [am sorry ed, and ‘which, I am to you bave not “Thave alwavs tried todo my duty in the office, and T had fiattered myself that I had succeeded,” replied Gregson ‘That is not the point, sir. austerely. after oitice ing a associates are of a most disreputable characier.”” “Indeed, sir, in the latter case you are en+ tirely mistaken. I admit that I have been lead- ing rather a guy life, but I never associate with any but gentleme: ‘Perhaps you think so, but I know better. Were the men you were in company with last night gentlemen Gregson was silent for a moment. How did the old gentleman know where he spent the evening? “Well, he said at last, “T can't ray they were. I orly went to q smoking cert given by an artistic and literary club.” “Artistic and literary,” growled Mr. Benson. ‘My good fellow, is it ‘possible that you have becn so hoodwinked? But stop a bit and [ll ‘open your eyes,” and he touched a bell, whi ‘was answered by a messenger. “Send in Mr. Rodman,” he said. - When this gentleman entered the room Greg- son started, and he was more startled when Mr. Benson introduced him, saying: “This is Detective Sergeant Rodman. You, however, know him by a different name. Now, said Mr. Benson, Tam alluding to what takes place ure. I understand you are lead- ry dissipated life and that Some of your | | | Gregson was #1 AN ASSOCIATE OF THIEVES, 'nsssxretss ment in enabling the gang to accomplish their object. You were first to be induced to take impressions of the keys of the outer office and the strong room, and afterward to report the time when, os Mr. Rodman phrases it, they swag.” could get the For some seconds * stood paralyzed i he cried at last, mn ith horror. ‘Good heavens!” “did they think me capable of such meanness and treachery?” “Yer,” answered Mr. Rodman. “Mr. Walter Neame’explained the whole matter to me, and last night he told me’ that you were disgusted with the whole concern and talked about send- ing in your resignation.” “That, at least, is correct. If thie had not happened you would never have seen me at any of these smokers again, and I shall send in my resignation at once,” said Gregson. “No, you will do no such thing,” replied Mr. Rodmmi; that would spoil everything. | We are going to have a grand capture, but we must make sure of a conviction before we make our attack.” “Well, T am quite willing to be guided by you and Mr. Benson, if you will tell me what are your wishes.” “Then when you leave the bank you will go straight to your lodgings, peck up what you wish to take with you, and at once prooeed to the Paddington station and take your ticket to Plymouth, whero I understand your mother is living. You must not write any letter or see any one, or communicate with any one but your landlady. You will say nothing to her except that you dre obliged suddenly to leave town, and ihat you will write to her if need be. If you adhere to these instructions, well; if you to act in opposition to them, you will find out your mistake. You have been for some time past under police surveillance, and are known as ‘an associate of thieves.’ ‘ i ir; that will do!” exclaimed there is no need for any “bat it’s quite as well that this young gentle man should know what a mess he has got him- self int “Just so,” said Mr. Benson, rising. passes and I must bid you good mornin And then, turning to Gregson, be said: “Time Joe Gregson cashed his check and left the it you do not feel) hank and made his way to his lodgings as uickly as he could, and then he eat down to All that bad transpired in the manager's room seemed to him like a bad dream, Could n all the rest of | it be possible that it was true? Was it within the bounds of probability that his old school- igh moral lectures, just select a more | fellow and dearest frien'l should have fallen so low as to have become a thief, and, worse still to have tried to entangle him in the same net: he could not believe it. Yet the detective’ A 7 lust ons made by some of the members of the club, which he at the time thought were spoken | in jest, that his belief in Walter Neame began to In this | waver. But time was passing; if he wanted to catch 145 train he must pack up his things at once. This done, he called up the landlady, p@id her the rent and started for Paddington, lo took his ticket, obtained a comfortable seat in a second-class carriage, and the train started. Now a new source of uneasiness arose on his mind. What was he to say to his mot! what was he to say toa certain young lady to whom he was engaged tobe married? Until these thonghts came into his mind he did not realize what ar ‘The journey frox ion to Plymouth is a long and tedious one, and what, with the excitement of the morning and the worry of the situation altogether, it is not to be wondered at by the time the train reached Bristol be thoronghly tired ont. The compartment in which he had t graduaily emptied, and by the time they reached Weston he had it to himself, and had curled himself up and was fast asleep. At Bridgwater two men ran slong the plat- n till they came to the carriage in which ping, and one said: Get in here.” f rriage. gson, by the talking of the strangers, ¥ awoke to consciousness. There was something in the voice of one of the mea that was familiar to hin, and he lay quite still and listened. ‘The voice was that of Walter Neame. disturb 1 CHAPTER IIL Two ladies, the one past middle age and the erhaps not, sir,” replied the sergeant; | “I shall | ot proceeded far when Joe | . es stopping here. We had better have a fly and take them home.” n. “Yes, certainly,” was his reply. “Whatever will mamma say to this?” ques- tioned Ellen, after a pause. “If anything has ‘happened to Joe it will break her heart.” ‘Now, don't worry,” said Bella; “I've been thinking the matter over, and I see no cause for alarm. Something tells me that it will all come Tight in the end. Joe never does anything without « purpore.”” But what purpose could Joe have in leaving the train without taking his luggage with him?” asked Ellen mystery must wait CHAPTER IV. ‘The train rolled on. Joe Gregson lay per- fectly still and quiet, listening to the conversa- tion of the two men in the next compartment. | He knew perfectly well that the least noise or movement on his part, if heard by these two men, would, in all probability, cost him his life. “T know the house as well as I do my own. I could find my way about it blindfolded. I was | down here last summer on a skgiching tour and 1 got an introduction to the old baronet and he showed me all his pictures and treasures,” said Mr. Neame. Talso made the acquaintance of the lady’s maid and she introduced me to. the | housekeeper, xo that, one way and another, I got pretty well the run of the house.” “And you've waited a whole year? Well, you | are a deep un!” exclaimed the other man, | “Well, you see, ifa burglary followed close upon my Visits to these country mansions it would create suspicion and I should have the pélice on my track.” “And how are you going to get in?” asked his confederate. “By one of the dining room windows. I've often found ‘em left open on hot nights; but, if they glass and unbasp it, and in we go.” really thunk the swag will come up lady's jewels were worth more than that, and I | know exactly where to put my hand on’ them; besides which there's galores of plate in the butler’s pantry and r ups in the libra: Ob, we shall have a glorious sack and be miles jaway before they wake upand discover their loss.” After this there was silence for some time, ex- cept the rumbling of the wheels and the puffing of the engine. Then there was a whistle, and shortly after the train stopped and the two men | alighted. In an instant Joe had decided to fol- | low them, and, if possible, frusttate their inten- tion. He stepped out on ‘to the platform, und, passing up to the end, jumped over the rails into the road just in time to see Walter Neate and | and his confederate issue from the statioa door. | 1 ‘The night was clouds, but as the mgon almost at her full there was light enodgh f him to descry two dark figures stealing along | the road some distance ahead. ‘They ‘vent on and on for more than an hour, the men ahead proceeding very slowly and leisurely. At last they came to a stile and the two sprang over. When Joe came to it he paused, for at that | moment there came a rift in the clouds, and a gleam of moonlight revealed his quondam friend and his companion standing with their | heads turned in his direction. | He dodged down and and listened. Not a sound was to be heard but the sighing of the night wind. He waited ja few minutes and then be | Peep. but the two men, had disappeared. and f e jumped over the stile and followed them. | He pushed on over two fields, soul was to be seen and nota sound was to be heard. lock, for he conld not tell wha! men had taken and he was com dark as tothe whereabouts of the intended burglary. At this moment a clock commenced to strike the hour. He counted the strokes—12 o'clock. | Where there was a clock there must be a house, |and he at once made his way in the direction from whence the sounds came. we cannot solve,” replied | id. vee.” e closed, we've only to break a pane of | ept under the hedge | took another | Mi but not a! Here he was now entirely at a dead- direction the | tely in the ager were 4 “Yes, alr,” the was “T think your theor? inte plausible one, end If be off at ‘once, beeause I'm rather anxioas, too, to know something about the burglars.” “You think they are likely to be some of ‘The Canaries?’ Fephed | Mr. Rodman; Neame’s jobs. The following morning Mr. appearance at the hall, and was ushered into | the presence of Sir Thomas Kilbey,who recelved | him courteously. ; You think you can solve the mystery of who this voung gentleman is. Well, I shall be glad, as i want to let his friends know of his critical situation.” “You think bis condition critical, then?” said | the detective. “Certainly. The doctors say it is very crit- | ical,” replied the baronet; “he's quite uncon- | scious, Come with me,” and he led the way | upstairs. “Yes, Sir Thomas, it is as I The oung gentleman's name is Gregson, and he is iw Glock ta a Loodon bank.” “Bat how came be here, and why did he risk his life to save my property?” asked the baro- net. “That is an explanation for which we must wait. All I know is that he started from Pad- ington and was bound for Plymouth, where his mother lives.” ‘Do you know her address?” Yes: Myrtle Cottage, Stonehouse. But, now, Sir Thomas, ‘You what bas become of the burglars: “Oh, Pll tell you all about it. You see, they made off with the spoil; but our young friend icked up such # noise and smashed so many wind6ws that it roused the grooms and _stable- men, andafter a smart chase they captured them and, what was more important, brought | back the plate and jewels they were making off with, As there was no chance of getting any assistance from the police till the morning we locked them up, as we thought, securely in one | of the coach houses. Bat in ‘the morni: | found they had made their escape, | was not particularly sorry.” “What wort of persons were they?” asked | Rodman, “One was tall and the other short and stout but, really, did not take particular notice | their appearance. Twas too anxious about our poor young friendhere. and thought more about getting a doctor for him than of noticing what the fellows were like.” It was late the same day, and the family at Myrtle College was sitting pondering over the strange disappearance of Joe Gregson, when a The lady’s maid said her | telegraph bor made his appearance, aad Bella | | Snowden, in her eagerness for news, rashed out | and took the red envelope from him and handed it to Mrs. Gregao 1 she asked. “Open it and Your son has met with an accident, or, | Father, was attacked by burglars, and is ill at | my howe. Tf you and any of your family like to visit me at ‘Kilbey Hall warm welcome. “Thank God! thank God!” exclaimed Bella, ‘and the thanksgiving was echoed by the other two. But my dear boy is ill. Oh, what shall I xelaimed Mra. Gregson. ‘Do, my dear Mrs. Gregson! Keep as quiet as yon'can and be ready to start By thelist train in the morning,” replied Bella. No, no,” remonstrated Ellen; “restrain your patience: mamma must have her breakfast before we start. There is a train,” she con- tinued. referring to the time table, “at 9:05. We might catch that.” ‘e had better wire back and say what time we are coming, had we not?” suggested Bella. “Yes, you will receiv. | do’ certainly,” answered Ellen, “I will put on my jacket and hat and do it at once.” Isabella Snowden was of a ho} ing disposition, and she tried rs. Gregson, b “He'll die, Bella, will.” ful and trust- rd to soothe rithout much success, she sobbed; “I’m sure he that makes me think he's imagine. Attacked by burglars hat puzzles me,” replied Bella; she went on, “how didhe get to It's six miles from the station.” dear, it's all mysterious, Why omas tell us plainly what was the matter? Attacked by robbers; why, there may | dida‘t Sir Th He hai not | be concussion of the brain, ‘fracture of the other just budding into womanhood, were proceeded far when he stopped short and lis- | Skall and trepanning. These wretches some- seated it an elegantly furnished room ina small cottage situated in the outskirts of Ply- mouth. It was not that the furniture or ap- pointments were of an expensive description; replied Neame. | ft'was the judgment and taste which were dis | as stanch | paved in their selection and arrangement which gave its chief charm. ‘The elder Indy was seated in a low easy chair, with a telegram in her hand, “Coming home to stay till Christmas!” exclaimed. lien, dear. what can it mean? ‘The girl thu; addrewed looked up from her nd asked: Who is coming home to stay till Christmas?” “Its from Mr. Benson,” explained Gregson, “Joe is going to have four months’ What can it mean?” ‘Oh, never mind what it means, Won't it n't sce it in that light, my dear.” re- plied the mother. “Of course I shall be glad to have my dear boy with me; but I'm afraid there must be something wrong. He eays Joe will explain. If he’s ouly coming for a holiday what need is there for any explanation?” hook her hi “That's a riddle only time can solve. If we a few Lours we shall know all.” few hours! Viv dear girl, it’s now a little after und the London train is not due til 12:15. That's ten hours!” y urs will roon pass if you don’t M wort, ) to do, 80 I'm off to put on my things. it's my drawing class at 3, and after that there's the Brink ve a music lesson, so I shall not be ba rly. Besides, I think Bella ought to know, so I shall call in and tell her.” “Do, dear, and ack her to come back to tea; T'll have it ready at balt-past 5.” So Ellen Gregson departed, and her mother was left alone with her thoughts. Her raind was fall of anxious foreboding. Was her boy ill? Had he done anything to offend her kind time, I've got my work friend and benefactor, Mr. Benson? Four months was a long he mething must be wrong. Punctual to her time, Ellen returned with her friend, Isubella Snowden, the. latter receiving a most cordial xnd motherly reception from Mrs. Gregson, She was a singularly beautiful girl and as good as she was beautiful. It would be searcely possible to imagine a more picturesque con-| group than that assembled around Mra. Grog- son's table. She, though on the wrong side of was still a handsome woman; Ellen was Deing of a more intellectual acter than her mother’s, but ft was Isabella Snowden who formed the great charm of the picture. She was the very personification of grace and beauty and her very presence seemed to have a soothing effect on Mrs. Gregson’s | nerves. Her voice was soft and musical and don’t see any cause for anxiety, dear Mrs. sergeant,” he went on, “tell Mr. Gregson what | Gregson, sho was saying; “at any a it'sno your report isof the society known as ‘The “The clab Pig = inner circle, thieves!” (0, not atall!” exclaimed Gregson promptly: “not my old echool fellow and friend, Walter Neame. known as a contributor to the illustrated weekly PRAT quite true, sir,” replied the sergeant; “but that is only a cloak to cover his more nefarious coceupation. or what they term the nest, are all, to a man, G@ a “{ don't believe it!" exclaimed Gregson. | come by the last train, “He isa gentleman, every inch of him, and would not condescend to do a mean action.” “It's all very well, sir,” continued the ser- it; “but facts are facts, aa you will very He is an author and artist and is well | | use meeting trouble half way; it's enough when it comes.” #0; but who is that coming across'the 0 should it be, my dear lady, but Lieut. Rennison, come to hear the news?” “Good afternoon, ladies,” said man, who stood with a smiling face looking in ut one of the French windows. “I've come to see if the good news is true; are we really to wee Joe tonight?” “Well, George, I hope so,” ded Mrs. “Thea 0s thlegrtas 60 ony bo would it come Won't you have some tea?” “Certainly he will. Do you think he came all the way from the docks ‘merely to satisfy his curiosity?” said Bella, archly. “I think,” said Mr. Rennison, as be sipped i tea, “I shall go to the station and meet Will you? That is "said Mrs. Greg. at it would be im- Mra, | open, and, vaulting on to the sill and taking off tened. Yes, he could hear voices and footsteps. times carry pistols, and he may have been shot and he advanced cautiously and saw two figures | 2d mortally wounded.” | scaling the park palings which lined one side of | With a | the lane a short distance in advance. | feeling of exultation at having once more got on the track ofthe burgiars, he noiselessly fol- cowed them, end in a short time a large house | °" began to loom up in the distance. Stealthily and noiselessly Walter Neame and | | his confederate stole across the lawn and dis- | | ap) into the shadow of the house. Joe | waited under cover of some shrubs, and then | he cautiously approached the spot where the | figures had disappeared. Just as he had ex is boots, he entered the room and made his | way to the door, which was partially open, and | beyoud which a faint ray of light was visible. He stood there for some little time, for he did not want to alarm the inmates till the robbers jhud secured the greater part of their booty. Presently the gleam of a dark lantern became | visible and the two men appeared, ench heavily Haden with a carpet bag, and approached the room in which he was secreted. behind the door, and there, with a beating heart, but with admirable coolness, watched | them deposit their burdens near the open win- | dow and then turn and proceed in the direction of the stairs, As they softly ascended they had |no-idea that a Nemesis, in the shape of Joe | Gregson, was dogging their footateps. They entered the drawing room, and Joe, who had been following in their wake, paused till they commenced their operations, and then Fett rope, he commenced to ring violently, at the same time shouting “Murder! Thieves! Thieves!” Then, seizing the first thing that came to hand, he sent it crashing through the window. Fora minute or two Walter Neame and his companion stood paralyzed; then, as the shout- ing and ringing and the crashing of broken | glass continued, he drew a heavy jimmy from ‘is great coat pocket and dasl into the next room. There was a struggle, a blow and a cry of pain and them Walter Neame returned to his companion, and picking up the bags containing their booty they sped down the stairs and dis- appeared into the dining room. ‘Tie whole hotise was in an shouted, the women scream: Kilbey, in a very airy costume, was loudly “de- manding what it all meant. ’ The butler, who seemed to be almost the only person who hag his wits about him, and who bad, on the first alarm, rushed down to his pantry to look after his beloved plate, at this moment came rushing | back and answered the baronet: “It means robbery, Sir Thomas. The plate’s -y ounce of it.”” iy lady’s jewels, too,” cried the lady's mgid, whoat this moment made her appear- ance. “Who was it discovered it?” asked Sir Thomas. ‘They all looked at each other and no one answered. “Some one rang the bell and shouted; who was it?” demanded the baronet. “Not me, sir,” was the universal reply. “Tt was in the small dra roar; the men and Sir Thos. room, papa,” wid Sitio haters Ge: BT sith “A very sensible , my dear Blanche,” and he to the room in question. fe “Ob, gracious, here’s a man! dead?” CHAPTER V. Tt was the day following that of the burglary at Kilbey Hall and Mr. Bonson sat at his desk No, gees Hi 4 ii ig 8 i iB pected, he foundone of ‘the windows. partially | 30° Was lying « He drew back | [ into an adjoining room, and seizing the | ella, though she was sad at heart, tried to the poor old lady's catalogue of woes. But, as | her-motto-hadalwaysgeen never to anticipate she continued tofook on the bright aide of ¢ situation as far as she was able, and when she laid her head on her pillow that night she had strange misgivings. What if her lover | were dangerously ill? Worse still, what if he should die? So Bella Snowden Jay awake for hours pondering on the uncertainty of life, and at last fell asleep, at one time dreami: that soft bed with upturned. face d tends uarecome!” and at another time eaven, that he was lving stitf and stark in his coffin, | but still with the same tender smile on his lipa, | yore, they come!” eried Biahche Kilbey as | the carriage ‘appeared coming up the avenue. “T wonder what they will bo lke “If they are anything like the poor you: fellow responded Sir Thomas, “they | will at feast be very good looking; but come, | he said to his wife, “we must go out to meet them.” “How is | ae soon as the usual greetings were over. | “Very sadly, my dear lady, I am sorry to say: till quite unconscious,” rejoined ‘but the doctor is hopeful."* | “Nofhing that could contribute to his com- fort or restoration has Lady Kilbey. ‘We have had two doctors and we have got a professional nurse; no expense will be spared, we feel so greatly indebted to him. You see, he saved us from a great los, My jewels alone are worth more than’£2,000, besides the plate; but we value the former es. pecialiy because they have been in my family | “Dear, dear!” exclaimed Mra. Gregson. “I'm so glad.’ I've not seen him for years.” pi lcantime Bella had been malking friends with e Kilbey. your lover?” asked Blanche. ies,” replied Bella with a nod and a blush. re you engaged?” whispered Blanche. “Yes,” answered Bella with another pretty | blush. Ande clisin of eympathy And a chain of sym| was at once estab- lished between then. “Could not I go up and seem him at once?” asked Bella, “Yes, if you wish it speak to as. Benson?" “No; at present he's a stranger to me.” So, while the others were in ing Mr. Benson, the two girls room, Blanche explaining as they went, as far as she knew, how the accident occurred, and de- scanting volubly on Joe's bravery. “How is he getting on nurse?” asked Blanche, as they entered the room. “Not at all, miss,” was the reply, “he's been fo give him , but won't you stop and worse this last hour and I've had ia stood with chasped hands, at the pale face and ee her lover. His brea‘ was slow feeble and, though his eyes were wide were contracted. "At this it tremor passed across his face and a conscious- neas seemed to shoot from his eyes. She sank on her knees, and placing her soft cheek close to his, whispered: “Joe! dearest Joe! know me?” “lady j id i iff Ext big fs i z in f it & if 1 % r Thomas Kilbey,”’ she said, and | put ona cheerful countenance and smiled at | all ki smiling lips, whispering, “Thank | dear boy?” asked Mrs. Gregson | been wanting,” put in | he conch “T've reason to bless the day hen be pulled! me up in my dowaward course and showed me that I bed, unconsciously it is true, become ‘an associate of thieves.’ ” bie. HUMAN BEASTS OF BURDEN, Chinamen Hitched Up as Horeee in Parts of California. ‘From the San Francteco Obrontcle, An astonishing sight has been presented re- cently to observant travelers over the narrow Gauge railroad to Santa Cruz while passing | through the great market gardens near Newark, in Alameda county. It is nothing more or less than the utilization of Chinese laborers as beasts of burden, and of their own volition, too. Along the railroad near the station mentioned bands of coolies have rented large tracts of land for the purpose of raising vegetables for | the San Francisco market. For the past few weeks the Chinese have been engaged in plant- | ing beets, onions and other vegetables, using | large drills in doing the work. Horves have usual- | ly been employed to pull these drills, but here | | the Chinese laborers substitute themeclves for | the usual beasts of burden, hitch themselves | up in their stead, and are by another coolie | Guided like “dumb driven cattle.” The large | seed drill somewhat resembles a plow. It hae handles like that implement, and from the front | of the drill extends a rope six or eight feet long. On the end of this rope s pole about eight feet ja length is tied. ‘Two Chinamen place \ |in front of them, about the middle of bodies, and bending to their work they pull the drill about the field in mse to the com- mands of the man at the handles, In some cases, instead of using the », two Topes are attached to the drill and the coolie beasts of burden take the ends of these lines over their shoulders and plod over the field. Backwardgand forward they go, just like horses, and apparently as contented with their lot. Certainly in no other of the United States is euch a sight to be sen, that of human beings voluntarily taking the of work animals. When the Mormons founded Salt Lake City and populated the country thereabouts the working of women in the was andeven until a few years ago many an ol Mormon could be seen from the cars driving « herd of his wives hitched toa plow like oxen, and like them staggering under the yoke, Feceiving but his cursos if ther stopped to rest. 2 influx of Gentil itis sup] , put onal So'this Inkuman teatemes of tastier mons’ a oe a In some older countries, where classes are, downtrodden and animals are scarce and fodder dear, such conditions do «till exist, though even there they are fast becoming Tare, In Holland women aided or hindered by dogs are compelled to draw canal boats, While their lords and masters sit complacentl; on the boats smoking their pipes, removing them only to yell at their beloved and ad- | Bired elpmates if they lag in their heavy k. In the north of Germany women are com- led to do similar work to that of the coolies jin Alameda county and hitch themselves up with horses or cows to bedriven either by other women, who change off to give the first « rest, or by their husbands, who consider thetr posi- tion is at the “helm,” and never change. In the north of France women can still be seen harnessed in carte with dogs Sregeing, the —— of the field into market, but this of degraded hi ¥ madi tn aman Pops ot ed, and they probably have ime of They are still | the primitive =, made Beene Ue {one of which serves for a handle and the i i i ! 8 f f f | g E i ii z 3 i, i i i iia Ay field, It is difficult to understand by economy the Chincse see an | Ploving their own fellows ‘after | the beasts of the field,” but it | basis in the fact that the field work. But i F H & bi i ‘Has 6600 Worth of Arms and Legs. ‘From the San Francisco Examiner. The clerks of the Grand say that the most rial, he would burst into the hotel like a rey of y light on a dark. cloudy He was the victim ‘of one of the playful of Minnesota. ‘When it was over and he was gathered up from the snow it was difficult to tell what pieces would withstand the allurements of the grave of the thumb on the He practiced fora while walking with teathorn boots which everybody ha ton lgles men wear. Finally he raised enough money to by his various cork extremition, Ir. Dowlii likes a joke, and when stopped ints strmeteoe ned opera beraae nl men with one leg or arm, or both legs or gone, would immediately take them to Testaurants and load them up with « big at his om e , all the time their tale of misfortune with the bee : at. ‘When it was all over his face to their astonishment, g 4 & ii & i | at Ocala, Pla, a collection BAMBOO CULTURE. Why Not Introduce the Plant for Coltion- ton in This € s IE DEPARTMENT OF AGRICT Tecommends the cultivation of the haw for eeomomical purposes in the United St Asuggestion to the same effect fe conveyed tna He mays that the plant val ® in this country as far north as Now York, and consider it their best paying rep. and er abundantly on otherwise worthless wet lant utiliging for the purpose border of felis, from cuttings of the roote. Marketable canes are prodnes! in one year, anda plantation yields fora doven Years, requiring no cultivation, A Kingle ploat gives five or six canes thirty feet long, the stock becoming stoutor each year. The canes, being very light, #tiff and Jurat’ nish material for fencin, grape and bean poles. or laths and in the maw | hampers and baskets, CULTIVATED IN THE UNITED STATES, In the United States the bamboo is cultivated to a small extent, but only f ental poses. There are at lewst ten epecies natives of China, Japan and the Himal which may Teasonably be expected to thrive in the ail lor Intitudes of this country. Two of these be been found to be hardy even in New E A number of sucoosful b tious have already been H ern California, One of th B. W. Kirkham of Onkian old. "The canes grown 0: from Chinese stock, m. as thirty-five foot in o of the state the Indian baunboo, wh height of fifty bas been found capi ture of zero. At t © enough for fence rails wns +) oy in that state. Bamboot have a wide cally, and range in lntitude to 10,000 and even 15,000 fret on the Hiraninvan They ap; to flourish best in warm, my climates, though in ma! regions subject to drought, thes ravines and valleys with » cool aiuno-) ben best development ther require » deep, m: loose, rich soil. Secretary Ruvk, in bax enn Teport just issued, save that “few extra-treni plants indicate, in their ability to endure « Figors of their wative clima of successful introduction into or than the bamboo.” A number of Aminti cies occur as far north as the fortieth parallel Suitable conditions may be supphed. ve i al ready done in southern California, by arrign.ti larly in the southweat, wiiere bamboos would be regarded ax very desirable. MANY KINDS OF BAMBOUS. The bamboos belong to the true grammes and comprise about twenty genera, with nearly 200 species. About fifteen genera, of which ty called “Bambum,” “Arundinaria, “Dendrocalamus” and *Guadua” are the m wn by Lee ¢ ribution climntt- the sen level 1 forms of tae tribe. “Bambusa,” perhaps the most valuable economically, ‘there are forty-six species. Thirty of these are found in the old world, fifteen in Sonth America and one in Africa, A single species, “Barubucs ris,”” i ovem0- politan and Iv distributed by cultivation. “Aran P*Damboos are utilized chy making of , rafts, water rigging, carts, Doren,” mata, Cordage and Feraiture fashion just et present. i i F j i L i geFs hi i Hu! t i i | 4 i exceedingly dificult to germinate, and bene the plants are propagated almost exclasively from root cuttings, eyes and offsets Aste How People in Washington Have Their Hands Put tn Order. “VM ARE NO LONGER ASHAMED to have their nails attended to, fashionable manicure specialist to # Srak writer. “Yes, indeed, they used to be very much #0. Fourteen years ago, when I first came to Wash ington, my occasional male customers were Let your fingers rest in this little basin of warm water, if you please. But, as I was about tosay, that has all changed. Very many gontlemen, about half as many a6 ladies, come tome to have their hands treated. Nor, if they happen to be sven here by any of their friends, do they feel abashed. “You see, people have come to consider it as much # matter of course to bave their nails st- tended to as to have their teeth kept in order. atime it was regarded as nothing out of the way to have decared teeth, and tooth- aches were a. common complaint. Let me take your hand and dry it in this towel, so. I bave uite a little arsenal of weapons. ‘you observe, Paring the nails and other necessary vpera- tions. Take notice how delicately those i , itis the thing now to have The most tachi manicuring originated in France it to this country about fifteen Allittle while before that it had become only he loved more than a joke was the brown and there was nothing he hated more than He lived all alone in a little but beside it &