Evening Star Newspaper, March 14, 1896, Page 21

THE WIEES CONFESSION, ed A PARLOR PLAY. —_+—_—_ BY SIR WALTER BESANT AND WALTER HERRIES POLLOCK. —_—_.—__-——_ pyright, 1806, by Sir Walter Besant and W. H. ee Ot rae) DEAMATIS PERSONAE. in shooting dress, aged newly married, aged second lieutenant, First cl Royal Glov aged twenty-one. Martin, th ler. ACT I. SCENE. Breakfast room in Lord Avenel’s country house. Butler discovered. He arranges chairs, smceths the table cloth, puts news- paper at wack of Lord Avenel's chair. Takes bundic of letters from a tray on the¢ sideboard and lays them before three chairs. Butler. Here's the lot, and a pretty lot it is. Gilad i'n not his lordship’s secretary. Answering all these letters eyery day would kill me in a week. Give me my pantry and the silver and I ask no better lot. For his lordship—one, two—(counts)— twenty-four letters, with a percel. (Takes up smail fed with red tape and sealed, looks at it, feels it, weighs it, presses it.) Marked mediate.” Leoks like as if it had paper inside of it. More reading—more writing. That pore young an, the Some folks are great- ly to be pitied. Now my lady's letters. One, two—here’s a scente: one—something sweet from another lady—great ladies ‘ b 1 more than my friends in the servants’ hall. Here's a tradesman's bill, 1 take it. Her ladyship isn’t in a hurry to pay her bills, but give her time, give her tim What's the use fu can’t get time? k rummy siart! The last letter for is just exactly in the as the packet for m = (Compares them.) Great square hand—same s’s; same t's. same—well, it doesn’t matier to me. Here's the cap- le —one—that's woman's in has a way with enother—and— is isn't the rum- his letter is written in the other two. er—or a church incapable—well Ss before lieuten- ‘The capt ‘ Vernon. Butler. Not r. Your letters, sir. (Puts the on tray and hands them. Lievt. Vernon snatches ihe letter whose handwri puts the one open and reads hurriedly.) Vernon. Th (Butler, with impassive face, goes on ‘hips table cloth, setting knives and in proper places, pokes fire.) (Vernon w up and down the With vexatio (Batier room 1.) waiks round the table critically. the letter again) “Since you h letter y second, I shall Prov pu that I bite as well as bark. sent love letters that vriting to Lady Avenel to have an opportu- to him—I under- suest. This will the pleasanter for y business. Why the abel destroy the confounded you have been his lor: i letters w This person is a wom: an uneducated woman —where Why doesn’t she come down in time for breakfast? Oh! What am I to say? there’s no date on confo There any of He will think they were : Lady Have you got moraing—any thing from Ciari Vernon. [ haven't lookel—yet. I've had somet else to think about Lady A. What is the matter, my dear boy? You look werried. - Verren. | am worried. Look here, Isabel— you remember two years ago, when I thought that you were 'n love with me— . (coldly) Well? This is hardly the place for these reminiscerces, is it? Vernon. Y now—but—There were let- —a lot of letters— t about them? I daresay there ember, now, that there were. “Ww docs the wretched woman mean? Vernon. Where ere they? Did you burn Burn them? Burn them? I forget ve they are where they were n my old desk—in my boudoir. Vernon. Go and look. Lady A. nS out and returns immediate- ly.) They are gone! Vernon. ‘ihey are stolen. Do you know this handwri' ? Lady A. It is a common, iterate hand; but I think it is the writing of my last maid, whom I had to send away. Vernon. Read the letter. Lady A. (Re: ) Charlie! Good heavens! What does the wretched woman mean? ‘Vernon. None of my letters have dates. She believes and she hopes that Lord Avenel will believe that they were written yester- day. (Looks casually at Isabel's cover, where there are her letters.) See! Here is a letter for you in the same writing. (Hands it.) Lady A. (Re Madam, I have sent your lover's lette ur husband for him* read. I hope you will all three be please: Vernon. Where is your Musband? Lady A.I suppose he is dressing. What are we to do? Vernon. There isn’t much there? I must e: 3ecret engzagemer take—if he will only believe it. How long is it since the last letter was written? Lady A. Two years—a year before I was married. Vernon. They were rather strongly worded letters, Isabe!—I remember that I thought myself madly in love with you. It was because I had known you from childhood, I suppose. Lady A. I suppose so. Otherwise it would have been impossible, of course. - Vernon. Isabel! As if I could mean that— But it was a mistake, wasn’t it? And I've been in love several times since then— Lady A. And I've been in love once—and only once—in my life—and it isn’t with you, my dear boy. Vernon. And now we've got to pay the piper. Avenel is a fiery man—Isabel—and perhaps he's a jealous man—It’s all very well to explain, but it’s a thing that may rankle. Lady A. I have been wrong—Charlie—It is all my fault. I ought to have explained ong ago. But—I—I was ashamed. 1! could not bear to think that even a mis- take had been made I ought to have de- stroyed the letters and told him every- thing. Then, if he chose—he might have— sent me away—Ch! I was so foolish—so foolish—— Wernon. It was a thousand pities, Isabel, that you did not burn those letters. Lady A. I forgot them. They were lying in my desk—I was so happy that I forgot them..I never looked at them. What do they matter to me—now? Vernon. Nothing—nothing—as you say. Yet —a thousand pities— Lady A. And then that detestable woman : THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 1896~TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. : found them and—and—I wonder ‘it my|iady A. Please do not’ mock, Guy. It is : husband has thoge letters yet. Vernon. There are his letters of the day— (turns them over)—. Igabel, there is her handwriting—(takes_up_packet)- ? the packet. There are the letters! Lady A. Let me see. (Takes the packet.) Yes—It is her handwriting. There is no doubt. This packet contains the letters. (She holds the packet in her hand. They look at each other in silence.) Vernon. What is in your thoughts, Isabel? Lady A. Tell me. Vernon. If this packet were dropped in the fire: if it were taken quietly away—in my pocket— Lady Hush: Charlie! Hush! Vernon. (Takes the packet out of her hands). These letters are mine, really, because I wrote them. Let me have them back, Isabel. Then no harm can possibly come to you. It is for your own sake, Isabel. Lady A. No—no— Vernon. They are stolen letters. They were stolen from your desk by that ac- cursed woman, your maid. Put them back in your desk—and in the fire after- wards. (Offers her the packet.) Lady A. No—no. That was my tempta- tion—those were my most unworthy thoughts, Cha ‘my old friend—my old playfellow—my brother—would you help me to deceive my husband again? Vernon. You have never yet deceived him. Lady A. I have not told him of things that he ought to have known. And now he is to find out—to be told by a woman .who will give the thing all the coloring ‘that belongs to her depraved imagination. I have deceived him. But I will not de- ce‘ve him any more. Vernon. Take the packet, then. Put it among his letters. Then farewell to your happiness, Isabel. Think! A revengeful woman seeks to injure you in that point which you will feel the most keenly—the point of honor. All you have to do is to put that packet in the fire. Lady A. I will not, then. Whatever hap- pens, I will not deceive my husband again. (Enter Martind Butler. My .ord have sent for his letters, my lady. By your leave, my lady. (Sweeps them on to a tray—looks about). I beg your ladyship’s pardon—there was a sealed packet—I noticed it among the letters—I don’t see it here. ‘ Lady A. It is this packet that you are looking for. Butier. Thank you, my lady. picks it up.) (Aside)—It’s the packet as has the same writing as her letters and (Exit Martin.) Vernon. Well, the die is cast. got the letters. Lady A. Yes, he has got the letters. He will learn for the first time that his wife has received love letters from another man. Vernon. A pleasing discovery. What shall you do, Isabel? Lady A. I shali tell him everything—con- fess all that there is to confess. Vernon. Come—there isn’t much, really— Boy and girl business, at the worst. We thought we were in love, and we wrote (Stoops and He has now “I shall tell him everything.” burning letters—pity they were quite so burning—pity women can’t burn things hly). Heavens! I was so foolish as not to letters, I have a pleasant quarter of an hour befcre me. Now, Charlie, it's no good getting savage. Leave me for a few minutes with my husband. Go away. You have got a tel- egram to send, or a letter to post, or something—You have gone to the stables. Go now. Come back in a quarter of an hour. Vernon. And then? Lady A. You will be guided by circum- stances. Above all things, remember that you have nothing to conceal and nothing to be ashamed of. Vernon. And you, Isabel—have you noth- ing to be afraid of? (Exit Vernon.) ACT IL = Lady A. Nothing to be afraid of? Yes— everything. He will learn that the girl he thought innocent of so much as a flirtation had received love letters—writ- ten love letters—with another man—had gone through all the business—before he appeared upon the scene at all. Nothing to be afraid of? Everything. Everything. If I lose his respect what will remain of his love? Love dies without respect. To lose his love—to become that miserable thing, a wife unloved—it is a hard price to pay for a girl's mistake. And I might have destroyed the packet! No—no— never!—it a cowardly thoughi—a base a unwort thought. Oh! Here he is— (Enter Lord Avenel.) Lord A. Good morning, my dear. (Kisses her kindly. Throws his letters, including the packet, carelessly on the table.) Where is Vernon? : Laiy A. He was here five minutes ago. Gone to the stables, I believe—or some- thing else. Let us have up breakfast. (Rings bell.) We needn’t wait for Charlie. (Enter Martin with tray, places it on table. They sit down. Martin takes off ) A. You need not stay, Martin—I will t on his lordship. (Exit Martin.) Lord A. You mean, my dear, that I am to wait upon you. But why send away the faithful Martin? ady A. He can come back presently, per- aps. I have something to say to you, first, Guy—in his absence. Lord A. Is it something very terrible? You look, my dear, as grave as Rhadaman- th Lady A. It sion is terrible. Lord A. Then, my dear, don’t make it. (Gets up and leans over her.) What is the matter, Isabel? You look quite pale and anxious. Lady A. It is the confession— Lord A. Then I say, don’t make it—I don’t ‘ant your confessions, my dear. y A. You must hear me. Sit down and listen— Lord A. Well—you have your own way al- ways. Is Vernon to have the confession as well? Lady A. You shall answer that question for yourself. Oh! Guy—how shall I be- 2 s a confession. Every confes- Yord A. Better begin somewhere near the erd—so as to get it over. That’s the best “Guy! what do you menn?” way, always, with confessions. Come, Isabel, my dear, one would think you had committed some kind of crime. Lady A. I believe it is a crime. But you shall hear. It’s the confession of a situa- tion. Lord A.A situation? Well—let us have the situation. In a play, they tell me, the situation is everything. Lady A. There was once a boy and girl— Lord A. Not uncommon. The world is very much made that way. Lady A. Oh! Guy, believe me—it is very, very serious. Lord A. Go on, dear—with the boy and girl. Lady A. They were very much together when they were chil ‘When the boy went to school they wrote to each other— Lord A. Dear me! This is very rare and wonderful. Lady A. They continued to write te each other— - Lord A. Did they, really? very, very serious. How can I go on? ‘Well, they wrote to each other after the girl had come out, when they ought not, you know—It was ‘a sécret engagement— because they thought they were in love with each other. Lord A. Lots of young:people write to each other because they fancy they are in love. It is a common hallucination. It is not gererally known, but half the pri. vate houses in this country are, private lunatic asylums in consequence. ~ Lady A. Guy—I am so miserable and you will not be serious. Lord A. Let me take a kidney, my dearest wife, and a cap of tea and then I will listen. Sorry Charlie is not here while the kidneys are hot—Will you take one? or an egg? Nothing? A little buttered toast—there now-—silence for a brief space. (Eats breakfast.) Lady A. (Lays her head in her hand and sighs.) Lord A. (Ecoks up.) Dear child—(Finds and takes her hand and kisses it) you don’t lock well enough to go en with the story. Suppose I finish it for you—(Push- e8 chair round, takes up newspaper and makes a kind of fan with it to hide his wife’s face—plays with it as he speaks) Yes, I think 1 can finish that story. They wrote to each other, this pair of semi- attached lovers, for some time. Their letters became ardent, as becomes young lovers. As for the young gentleman, Romeo himself was not a more extrava- gant lover. Of course I have never seen his letters, bat I can quite understand them—because, you see, my dear, this girl was the most lovely girl in the world, and-the sweetest and the best—quite the best—my dear—(Kisses her hand again)— quite the best, I say (Rises and kisses her forehead). Lady A. Guy—what do you mean? Lord A. I am finishing the story for you. Lady A. But—but that is my story, except that the girl was nothing of the kind. She was capable, though she didn’t know it, of the vilest deception. Lord A. Don’t interrupt, if you please, Lady Avenel—let me see—Oh! yes—they went on writing to each other until some- how—some day—I really don’t know how, they came to the conclusion that they had only been playing at love, and they didn’t mean it in the least. Lady A. It was his exaggeration—he pro- tested too much—so that the girl began to ask herself—and she found out— Lord A. Yes—She found out? Come, I've given you a good life—now you can go on. Lady A. She found out that I—I mean she did not love the young man at all. And I —I mean, she—told him she had made a great mistake and I begged his forgive- ness— e Lord A. Well? Lady A. And he wrote back to say that he, too, had made a mistake, and we—I mean —they were to remain good friends always and nothing more—So thag was all cver. Lord A. Happily. All over—else what would have happened to the other man? Lady A. What do you mean? ~ Lord A. Well; there was another man, wasn’t thera? Lady A. Ye-yes—there was another man— Lord A. You see—I am always right— Lady A. She was ashamed of this stupid love passage—and she told him nothing about it. Lord A. After all, a boy and girl business. What did it matter? Lady A. She ought to have told him—Not to tell him was «cowardice. He thought the girl was fresh and innocent and had never heard any words of love. Lord A. You think he had that opinion? Lady A. I am sure of it. Lord A. I find I must finish the story, my dear, after all. It is your turn to listen. This girl did not tell her real lover that she had madea mistake. But as it was off with the old love before it was on with the new, and as there never had been more than a boy and girl fancy, there was no reason why she should tell him anything unless she chose. Her new lover neither expected nor desired any such confession —He knew that he had the affections of the girl; he trusted her altogether; and if he had known this thing it would not have made him trust her the less— Lady A. But she ought to have-told him. Lord A. I doubt it. But it is a knotty point. We will argue it another time. Well— they were married—these two—and they lived happy ever afterward. Bia Lady A. No—they cannot. { Lord A. Ever afterward, I tell you. Mean- time the girl had left some of the letters in her desk; forgotten them, I suppose. These were found by a maid whom she dismissed, and stolen. Lady A. (Springs to her feet) Guy—you know everything, then! Lord A. Th woman took the letters and, I suppose—one knows her kind—she tried to’'get money on them from the man aap had writetn them.. She failed; she .thel threatened to play her last card. She wrote to the lady’s husband and offered to sell him the letters. When she got no answer she waited awhile, then tried once more to extort money from the writer of the letters, end when that failed, she sent them to the lady’s husband. Is that your story, Isabel? Lady A. Yes—yes—yes! But—Guy—how did you know about Charlie? Lord A. My dear, do you suppose that when people in our position get engaged there are not always other people ready to scrape up anything against either of “I can never forgive you, Isabel. us? I was told of your boy and girl busti- nes3 bkefore our engagement had been made known fcur-and-twenty hours. Yet you both thought it was a secret. My child, everybody knew. Lady A. Oh! Guy—and I was always afraid to tell you. Lord A. My dear, I have known it all along, and as for these letters (takes up packet). Yes—this is the handwriting of the creature—could you believe, my dear, that I would stoop to read them? Could you really think that your-husband had so little respect for you that he would condescend to open such a packet? Lady A. Guy—you are too noble! Say only. that you forgive me. Iord A. No. For that wofild mean that my wife had done _ something blame- worthy. Forgive you, Isabel? (Takes both her hands and kisses her.) Never. I can never forgive you—believe me. (Lady Avenel sinks into a chair and coy- ers her face with her hands.) (Enter Verngn—Icoks around—hesitates.) Lord ,A. Ah!; Charlie? My wife and I were just talking about you, and won- dering what you would advise in a par- ticular matter. But the fact is, I have mag up my, mind— Vernoh. “As té what? Lord A. Why, as to a certain packet of letters which some one has tried to mis- uso. We need not talk about them. Here they are, and (throwing them-into fire) there they ere. And now for breakfast. ly A. (Aside) Guy—I adore you. Curtain. -_— A Queer Pet. From the Philadelphia Record. A Tioga man has probably the most curious pet on record. It is nothing more nor less then a trained shrimp. One would scarcely believe a shrimp to be possessed of any intelligence, yet this little crus- taceen, whom his master has christened Neptune, really seems to be a most de- serving little ehap. Neptune is the pride of quite a large aquarium, in which he rules supreme. He is very fond of music, and when his master places a mouth organ against the glass side of the aquarium and plays, Neptune chows every manifestation of joy. He hops around on his tail and twirls his body as though dancing to the time of the music, and when the strains cease he places his little nose against the glass as though begging for more. His favorite airs are “A Life on the Ocean Wave” and “Rocked in the Cradle of the .”" Neptune’s master has a little stick which he places in the aquarium, and the shrimp will play about this for hours, sta-ding on his head, turning and ther doing o equally romarkable tinge ——S——— Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup has.ne rivals, remote ancestor, in the age before t USE OF <THE HANDS| Curious Enfotteation: . About - the -Preference-for the Right. IN PRIMITIVE MES BOTH WERE USEr z Location of ‘Buttons on Men's and Weinen’s Clothes. 2 ob OUR BODIES ONE-SIDED +4 oe From the Philadelphia Press, HE OTHER DAY, on offering to shake hands with a self- Possessed “young gentleman,” I re- ceived from him the left hand for saluta- tion, and his revered parent instantly re- marked: “That 13 the wrong hand.” Before I had well gotten out of my mind the thoughts stirred up by this ex- pression, I saw 4 carpenter driving nails with his left hand in the most easy-going fashion. There are left-handed players in the base ball field, in the cricket field and the tennis court, and it is curious to note the changes made in the disposition of the “field” in the first two cases, and the evi- TAN .dent discomfort of the other players in the third case. We may even seo left-handed gunners in the sporting clubs, but the by- standers instinctively draw back when one appears on the line, as if they were afraid that the weapon held in the left hand might shoot round the corner. These things, and many others of like kind, are considered abnormalities, for men and women are supposed to be normally right-handed and not left-handed. There are, however, some marked inconsistencies, as for instance that we mupt hold our knife in the right hand and not eat with it, but with tne fork held in our left; while @ spoon must be held in the right hand, and the soup conveyed to the mouth by that, for every eye at the table would be turned on a person who ventured to use the spoon in the left hand. It is evident that there must “be several points of interest in these differences, which 12 may be worth while to enumerate althougn it may be far beyond the reach of ordinary reasoning to discover why the rule of knife, fork and spoon has become an imperative one in “polite” society. The curious in such matters will find. much that {s amusing, as well as instructive in Mr. Grant Allen’s essay on the subject. > What Language Shows. The fact that some persons are left- handed may start the question whether the human animal. wag always right-hand- ed, for abnormally often indicates a “try- ing back” to an ‘tntestral condition. Now, when we look af gut language, and that in the case of man_isgg fair test, we tind how strongly the con, ive force exhibited by each of the hands has left its mark on our common expreesfons. ‘The right is the “ruling:” hand, pe dete is the “worthless” or the ‘weaker’ Hand, if we regard the derivative meanings of the names. In words imported, frog the Latia a certain ability is called “dexterity,” or right-nand- edness, while thint“Which has an evil or unsuccessful influénite becomes “sinister” or left-banded. dn ke manner, 4f we Jook at words from m .Bywench, sour we find that a clever person is “adroi because a bea une ded qualities, but a clum- erson is uche,” because his wi ig-left-handed. 30% cticslae It is evident, that when our race bevame 80, far advanceg,.a,-to frame words sfor ideas and Pier the rule was that ghe ers of it Were right-handed. And if we examine other tafiguages, we find proofs that suck a rule existed among the people using them. ‘Phere is, however, good rea- son for thinking that man originally could use either hand equally well. ‘This seems @ hazardous statement to make about a 1¢ great Slacial epoch had furrowed the mountains of nerthern Europe; but, nevertheless, it is strictly true and strictly demonstrable. Just try, as you read, to draw with the forefinger and thumb of your Tight hand an imaginary human profile on the page on which these words are printed. Do you observe that (unless you are an artist, and therefore sophisticated), you naturally and instinctively draw it with the face turned toward your left shoulder? Try now to draw it with the profile to the right, and you will find it requires a far greater ef- fort of the thumb and forefinger. ‘Tho hand moves of its own accord from without inwards, not from within out- wards. Then, again, draw with your left thumb and forefinger another imaginary Profile, and you will find, for the same rea-~ son, that the face in this case looks right- ward. Ixisting savages, and our own young children, wherever they draw a figure in Profile, be it of man or beast, with their right hand, draw it almost always with the face or hed turned to left, in accordance with this natural instinct. Their doing so is a test of their perfect righthand 2dness. Among Primitive People. “But primitive man, or at any rate the Most primitive men we know personally, the carvers of the figures from the French bone caves, drew men and beasts on bone or mammoth tusk, turned either way indis- criminately. The inference is obvious. They must have been ambidextrous. Only am- bigextrous people draw so at the present day; and, indeed, to scrape a figure other- wise with a sharp flint on apiece of bone or tooth or mammoth tusk, would, even for a practised hand, be comparatively difficult.” (Allen.) In connection with this passage it is interesting to examine the reports of the bureau cf ethnology, where it will be seen that, although the majority of profiles executed by the North Ameri- ean Indians follow the rule, many faces also turn to the right; and it is found that left-handedness, or rather ambidexterity, is very common among these tribes. But, doubtless, the reader wiil notice that in writing his hand moves from left to right, and not from right to left. Here is an apparent violation of the principle laid down in the quotation given from Mr. Grant Allen. It is, however, more appar- ent than real. If you study Egyptian hie- roglyphics you will find that profiles inva- Yiably look to the left. Hebrew, Arabic, Hindustan and other ancient languages read {rom right to left. In these, as in some modern tongues, we have to begin the book at what is to'us the wrong end. The reason of this is: that the early languages were inscribed, pot; written. A tablet of marble or a brick formed the page. The right hand could? erefore, carve or im- press the symbof if the natural way and Pass on. With :thé introduction of wax tablets of papyrys, and, in later times, of parchment and paper, a difficulty arose; for if the hand” began at the right and worked leftward, ‘it’ would obliterate its own work. > 10 Hence, the hahit.of writing from left to right, so that not omly may the writing be clean, but also that if may be visible. With writing from left to“right came also read- ing in the same‘diréction, and one result of this is very turiéus. We have become 80 accustomed Ep anya: the eyes fri left to right that we stinctively look at in that way. Cloge*your eyes inoacg and then- open tRem.* You will you make a positive‘ effort, that ; take in the objec ts on theiett first and then-move to the right. This is the way in which we view a landscape or a picture. The painter follows the habit of the writer, and works from left to right to avoid-“‘smudging” his work, and it has been remarked that when several composi- tions enter into one picture, as ig.some of the ancient altar pieces, the chr ological order runs from the upper left-hand cor- ner to the lower right-hand one. In Battoning. The results of the prevalent right- handedness of man are shown in many curious ways. If we look at dress, we find that a man’s button-holes are on the left, while the buttons are on the right. “A man, in buttoning, grasps thé button in his right hand, pushes it through with his right thumb, holds the button-hole open with his left and pulls all straight with his wight forefinger. ‘Reverse Mrs. J. A. Sample For the unforturates wko lie awake, staring at the cefling and counting the strokes of the clock, every sleepless night is an eternity Mrs. J. A. Sample of 1358 Broadway, New York clty, was afflicted with insomnia until her nerves were on the verge of prostration. She thinks her condition wes due to indigestion, Here is what Mrs, Sample says: have used Paine's celery compound with mark- ed ané decided benefit. It is espectslly useful in irsomvia, arising from indigestion and poorly nour- ished nerves. “I -shculd add that my granddaughter, Vera Hafieigh, was co thin ond puay at the age of ten as to cause us the greatest arxiety. AVe had no difficulty in inducing her to teke Paine’s cclery compound, Today the ruses bloom in her cheeks, and I never saw a healthier, stronger child than Prine’s celery compound has made her. ‘The brain is the center of the nervous system. Sleep alone rests this vital organ, together with the rerves. Durirg the waking hours the nervous both hands at once seem equally helpiess. Not very long ago the button-holes and buttons of women’s dress were on oppos:te sides to those of men. It may be so to a large extent even now, but I am told on very good authority that with the intro- duction of tailor-made dresses the old rule is going out of vogue. If so, this last badge of masculine superiority is doomed, and the future man will have but little difficulty in donning the coat of the new woman. A man generally carries his loose cash in his right-hand pocket, in order that he may reach it with ease. His pocket handkerchief is placed in the right pocket cf his “sack” coat, if low down; in the left breast-pocket if higher up, for a similar reason. His railway ticket and nickels for car fare occupy a middle position on the right-hand side, in order that they may be “handy.” A soldier wears his sword on the left for convenience; the driver holds his reins in the left hand, while the right carries the whip as his weapon of offense. The right hand is the seat of honor at banquets and ceremonies, and the phrase has come into use for the post of dignity in mattere-bothvsacred and secular. We hold out the right hand of fellowship, not so much, perhaps, from any sense of its su- periority as because, in days gone by, it was found that if it was extended in greet- ing, it could not be used to grasp the sword, and thus give an unforeseen blow. In the way of tools, screws are made to be turned by the right hand, and that use- ful articles at picnics—a corkscrew—is fitted for dextral and not sinistral use. ‘Ciocks and watches run round from left to right, as the sun appears to do; although the earth, whose time they are keeping, is so perverse as to move from right to left. In walking down the street we keep to the right-hand, and that is the rule of the road in driving, as well as the way’ in which trains move along the track. Our Bodies One-Sided. When we come to-augury, matters be- come mixed up. The Romans held that a lightning flash from left to right was pro- pitious, while one from right to left was unfavorable. It may have been because, as the lightning was supposed to be hurled by Jove, from left to right would be the way in which it would be seen if the Deity had his face toward the suppliant; but if Jove turned his back on the watchers, the lightning hurled by his right hand would move from right to left. But why is there this difference in our hands at all? The truth is, our bodies are one-sided. The heart is, after all, a very important item in a man. An injury to it is fatal. Hence, even savage man found. out that he had to defend it, and devised the plan of covering the region of his body where it is located with a shield. Blows, therefore, were struck by the right arm, and soon right showed might. With fre- quent use in this way followed aptability in other ways; and as each generation of the imitative genus followed not its own bent, but the practices of its predecessors, right-handedness became the mark of the individuals, and, although there might be less necessity for striking blows with each generation, tae right hand did not “forget its cunning.” Civilization has adopted the principle as a law of polite society, and, therefore, to be right-handed is right, to be left-handed is wrong. I must cut my food, write my letters, greet my friends, and do a thousand other things with my right hand. In the main, I must tell the truth, for that is right, but, according to a cer- tain phrase of the code, I may tell an un- truth, if I qualify it by the phrase “over the left.” ———— TEAPOT COLLECTING. A Fad That Many Women Find Ex- ceedingly Interesting. From the Philadelphia Times. As a fad it is as harmless as it is inter- esting, and in both r¥spects it ranks with the craze for pitchers, great and small. An Englishwoman, an aréist, who. spent some years in Japan, managed while: there to ac- cumulate more than } thousatid, of which no two had the same pattern. There were black pots and white, blue pots and gray, big pots, little oness pots in glaze, in crackle, in yellows and browns and reds and blacks. One was like an old man, whose head formed the lid, and could be set at any angle. Others were in the shape of birds, beasts and fowls, not to mention fish, frogs, a beetle or two and a fat, squirmy eel. Buddha even was pressed into service as a model. There were lotus- bud pots, and other pots in semblance of a tea house. One huge caldron-like affair Reld three gallons, and at least a dozen specimens would not have contained a thimbleful. Among these were several Swans—all truer than life, correct to the last curl of neck and feather, and of a size to be hidden in the palm of your hand. As to material, there were inlaid silver, hammered copper, iron—most exquisitely wrought—silver-gilt alloys, and all the myriad sorts of Japanese pottery. It was, in fact, a liberal education in teapots to run an eye over the ranks of them. Sev- eral specimens had cost nearly a hundred dollars each; yet, such is the cheapness of artistic handicraft in the far east, many of the others had been bought for a few cents, Yet altogether the assemblage was reck- oned to be worth $5,000, ——_-oo___ Corroborated. New Yorker—“Are Philadelphians as slow as New Yorkers think they are?” Philadelphian (surprised)—“‘Do New York- ers think we're Sow" = Owes Her Strength. All Remedies, - system works incessuntly, Poor sleep means a poor Ret vous condition, «nd prolonged insomnia leads in every case to prostration, and too often to dread insenity. The mischief that results from weakened nerves is much greater and more destructive than most folks even dream of. The all-important thing for nervous, run-down Perrons, 2nd for those who are losing sleep, is that Paine’s celery compound builds up the whole physi- ystem, and by ‘improving the digestion and ting the nerves it insures sound, refreshing reg sleep. In vinter most women and many men lead hot- hcuse lives. A flagging appetite, a disposition to Pick at this dish and that, rather than to eat a Square meal, is among the early indications of fall- ing health. Then comes delay in falling asleep, and the fretful, uneasy feeling the next day. Deliverance “from such a miserable condition by tke use of Paine’s celery compound bas caused men and women from every section of the United States to write sincere, hearty words of praise and thank- MINING ON THE COAST. The Barkeeper’s Pay Was Gauged by the Size of His Finger and Thumb. From the Butte Daily Inter-Mountain. Gathered in and around Butte are men who have mined in almost every country under the sun, but although charming con- versationalists in the society of their friends, for some unaccountable reason they become suddenly dumb when ap- preached by « newspaper man. It was a reporter’s tuck» yesterday to run against one who talked in an interesting way. He was a large, rather fine-looking man, ap- parently about seventy years of age, and @ man who had watched with close interest the progress of mining on the Pacific coast since the historic days of °49. “Yes, I was out in Californy in the old days,” he replied to a question, and then added with a pleasant smile, “I was thar from '49 to ’89 and took all the courses, from pan to little giant and from hand- made black powder cartridges to d:nnymite. “When gold was discovered by Marshall in that tail race Sutter was digging for his saw mill at Coloma, rot a man in that country knew a thing about mining. Never heard how they knew it was gold, hey? Well, there has been a great many stories told about it, but here is the right one. It was a little nugget Marshall picked up, worth three or four dollars. Each one of the gang looked at it, bit it, tasted it, rub- bed it, smelled it, but none of them had a clear idea what it was. Several thought it might be gold, but none was sure of it. A happy thought struck Marshall. Mrs. Web- er boarded the hands. She was making soft soap from pine ashes lye. Marshall Proposed the lady should boil the nugget in lye a day or two, and if it didn’t change color or lose its substance in the test it was sure-enough gold. Well, it stood the test. The world knows the rest. “Among the first on the ground was a lot of greasers, a cross hetween Mexicans and a lower class of humans. God knows they w all low enough, but the cross was no improvement on the general run of the cattie. The greaser brought his w! low-made pan and knife as his mi tools. He cut and scraped among crevices of rocks at the water's edge for ‘chispas,’ or, as we call them, ‘nuggets.’ An enter- prising white man made a ‘rocker.’ That was a great improvement over the willow pan and knife. In the fall of "49 picks, shovels, iron pans, and sheet iron for reck- er screens had been shipped in from the outside. Rockers sold for three ounces, shovels half an ounce apiece, picks the same; pans for a quarier of an ounce, gum boots au ounce a pair, and whisky a pinch a drink. That was the price in mining camps. A pinch was what a_barkeeper could take between his forefinger and themb. They had big fingers and thumbs in those days, and a barkeeper’s salary was meusured by their size. Wages was an ounce a day. “The ‘Georgia bumper’ displaced the rocker. It was something like a rocker, but much larger, and had several ‘riffles’ to caich the gold. The ends of the rock- ers bump against blocks of wood to jar the gravel in the screen, and between rifles. A bumper cost $200; a wheeibar- row two ounces, and a China pump $25. That made a bumper mining outfit. The bumper didn’t last long, for the ‘Long Tom’ soon took its place. That was a stationary affair with a long screen in which the ‘pay dirt’ was thrown. Water was conducted on the screen, the sh’ falling through the perforations while one of the hands forked out the rocks or small stones. soe. THE FACE IN ILLNESS. To the Trained Eye It Quickly Shows a Patient's Cendition. From the Trained Nurse. ‘The face is a good index to the state of one’s physical being, and from it symptoms of disease can be detected almost before the patient is aware that anything serious is the matter with him. For instance, incom- plete closure of the eyelids, rendering the whites of the eyes visible during sleep, is a | symptom in all acute and chronic diseases of a severe type; it is also to be observed when rest is unsound from pain, wherever seated. Twitching of the eyelids, associated with the oscillation of the eyeballs, or squinting, heralds the visit of convulsions. Widening of the orifices of the nose, with movements of the nostrils to and fro, point to embarrassed breathing from disease of the lungs or their plural investment. Contraction of the brows indicates pain in the head; sharpness of the nosirils, pain in the chest, and a drawn upper lip, pain in the abdomen. To make a general rule, it may be stated that the upper third of the face is altered in expression in affections of the brain, the middie third, in the diseases of the organs contained in the abdominal cavity. Proof Positive. From the Somerville (Mass.) Journal. ‘When a man has made his application and passed the physical examination and the civil service examination, and has duly seen a few people with pulls, and has got tis appointment, and his uniform, and his billy, and twisters, and revolver, and has had a beat marked out for him, he feels at last that he is really a policeman, but when he sees a dirty-faced small boy stick his head around a corner at a safe distance and shout, “Aw, go chase yourself!” and then run violently away, he is absoluteiy sure of it, - PAINE’S CELERY COMPOUND to This the Best ol fulness this grand invigoraior. People enjoys ing perfect health sometimes wonder at this gratl- tude; but whoever has suffered from prostration of the nerves, of which insomnia is one of the symp toms, will understand how hard it is to overstate the torment of this condition. And whoever has been wade completely well by Paine's celery com. und feels that no words can overstate the iv and gratitude such persons feel. ‘This is the state of mind of thousands of nerve: ‘s, sickly, broken-éown persons who have used Paine’ eclery compound and been made well. Mrs. Sample tells of the happy result in the case of her grandchild. One of the most conspicuous ine stances of the remarkable power of Paine’s celery compound over debility is shown in the relief it has afforded children. Of course, the dose is ad.pted to the age of the little patient. The come petnd purifies the blood and corrects any tend-ncy to constipation. Pale, puny children are made vige orcus, rosy and healthy by this incomparable remedy. = ———— AND STARE, The Absorbing Interest & Characteristic of Women, From the Ninetecnth Century. ‘Two women pass each other in the street of a provincial town; they are not acquaint- ed, yet it is long odds that one of them turns around to look after the other—very short odds against both doing so. It is not the gait, or the figure, or the hair of the stranger tHat has attracted attention, it is the dress, and not the person within it. The gentle anarchists who are busy organ- izing the debrutalization of man will, of course, attribute this little failing to the vacuity of the feminine mind by reason of man’s tyranny in excluding women from boards of directors and other intellectual arenas. It may be conceded that psychology and betterment are more recondite fields than millinery,but this would be but a dull wor! and far uglier than it is if every woman had a soul above chiffons. Odds grenadine and tarlatan! that were a consummation by no means desirable. No, let all men who have eyes to see withal or hearts to lose set great store by the pains bestowed on pretty dressing: but if one may speak and live, the art should be studied with subtler tact than is sometimes seen. It should be better concealed; it is distressing to see @ young woman's eyes wandering over the dress of her with whem she is talking, for if the mind be, engaged in taking note of external detail, conversation ceases to bs | intercourse, and becomes the crackling thorns under the pot. —+e+—____ A Struggle With Wagner. From the Sketch. Dresa