Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 17, 1899, Page 6

‘ ) CHAPTER XVI—(Continued.) Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOVE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. What had happened? Something was in the air—sueh as precedes the thun- The dinner drew to its close. The | Ger storm. Her eyes fell on the rose at’ flowers began to droop under the glare |}. preast. of the wax-lights, the air to grow op- pressive with their perfume. Another minute, and their lovely hostess would leave them to the solace they might discover in her absence in their ab- sinthe and fragrant weed— so small that they would quic Now | where she led. { Was it accident or design that in this | mom her eyes and those of the youn; t met? Did she feel some reproach, some pity? The ques- tion only her own heart might answer, s the blue eyes rested on that handsome face, they smiled so so graciously, that to w a suiile It) were worth the 7 had suffer thought the boy. The -prince scowled, but she deigned Perhaps his latest gal- ety had displeased her. She rose grace- fully, and all followed her example, but she motioned Dameroff that she might leave the room upon his arm, and when, a few moments later, he re- joined the group, who had resumed their seats, the crimson rose which she had worn lent its brilliant color to the ; glittering gold of his uniform. He wore it more proudly than the prince the decoration of his emperor. Every eye turned upon it, The one vivid spot arlet seemed to concentrate unto | every minor object in the room. ark flush swept over the prince’s then the blood slowly recedea, leaving the skin ghastly in its white- That one minute he seemed to aged ten years. His eyes and of the young lieutenant met. n the same deadly challenge lieute y he Once passed between them, as on the 4 de of Be ence’s SUM- } when Carlo had left th rice to obey Madame F mous to h ‘The prince sprang to his two men stood confronti er. An insolent smile pl. d about the | mouth of Dameroff. The dinner had | been a long-drawn-out torture to him. The memory of | h to permit him feet, and the | mminent, “You wear a flower, I see,’ prince, and his voice hoars Ve “May I inquire how it came your possession?” sdom of speech is natural,” he | Yours is the right to in- | to leave the } into “sy retorted. quire and mine the inquiry unanswered. “But I will know! That flower—is it | the one which M. me Florence wore | but a moment ago, which she took ; from the bunch of rc which were | rift? If so, you have gained p on of it by no honerable means, | 1 demand that yon once relin- | qus i it.” | ‘rhe two men were now equally 1 in pallor. Carlo had whitened | | ly know whom you ad- norach, when you Dameroff of dishonor. I n vors, but this ros st. Deny it if you y that she gave it to you, and you * hissed the nobleman, in a low. sibilant whisper, terrible than ary jiouder note. But se lips than, 1 wine, the bo; excitement, Ss face. wright sprang between them, e her name the com- } ersburg, Russia and all Europe ed. The question Imed them, though £ ood confronting each other with chests and eyes fairly blazing more is left his filled with | th rage and | | nee stooped for his napkin and wiped the wine from his face. He was speechless from rage. Dameroff , lrew a case from his pocket, and tak-: ing therefrom a card, threw it on the table before him. ie! my address,” he said. “You shall hear from,me to-morrow,” replied the prince. “But for fear of her fair fame we would settle it now and her Then, as though nothing had occur- red, the gentlemen returned to the drawing room.The countenance of the | prince had resumed its: old suavity, al- though his eye gleamed with a sinister light, which betokened small weakness on the part of his right arm when it should grasp the sword on the morrow, as he saw not only that the crimson rose had. vanished from the lovely breast it had adorned, but that a blue ribbon Dameroff had worn in merit of a certain order in his butttonhole now fastened a string of pearls upon Mad- ame Florence's waist, Yet, singular to say, his love grew by feeding on its jealousy. Stronger than ever was bis determination to win for his wife the woman who could thus brave lim. Once his wife, she should suffer due punishment for this hour—a punishment which should begin on the morrow, when he, the most noted swordsman in Europe, should see that ! Carlo Dameroff expiated his insolence only with his life. Therefore he smiled and murmured langnidly in his fair ’ ear. younger man was a poorer dis- sembler. His cheek was paled ana flushed by turns. Madame Florence, too, wore a certain air of constraint unusual to her, and her gaze often wan- dered toward Dameroft’s face. But he avoided her glance, and rose early to take his leave. “So soon?’ she said, proached her. And as her hand languidly lay an in- stant in his, she gently pressed it in emphasis of her regret. “No hour so late, madame, that it would not seer all too early to tear one’s self away ftom your presence,” he answered, gallantly, but with a cer- tain coldness in his tone her ear was quick to detect, ~~ as he ap- | sweet, fair face—a face less beautiful— | love! | death s | burnt low, and the old days came back | | to him with eruel force and cruel long- | g each oth- | a | the day ! ashes?” “You will wear my colors?” she half- | yhispered. es,” he answered, “to the death!” But she little dreamed that the words held literal meaning. That he would be worsted in the impending conflict. Dameroff had no doubt. The prince’s-reputation as a swords- nw s well known to him as to others, and his own skill was as noth- ing compared to it. Yet, singular to uy, it was not of the woman for whose e his life blood would be spilled merrow that he thought as he went out from her fair presence into the ight. A voice within him told him that when they brought her the news that he, indeed, had worn her colors “to the death,” the lovely cheek would mo- mentarily pale, perhaps, the exquisite bosom heave a sigh, the sweet voice would murmur, “Poor boy! a life fora rose!” and then he, like a rose, he, too, would be forgotten, her smile drying her tears ere they had time to fall. Wrapped in his furs, he paced the street, the cold, frosty air upon his face. Slowly he seemed awakening from a dream, and out from the dead and buried past there shaped itself a ar less beautiful—than hers on whom his eyes so short a time ago had rested, but lighting into beauty, as electricity to flame, by the magifie fluid called Aye, she had loved him—now, when ed him in the face, the pas- sion which so long had swayed him } ing He had bartered gold for dross, and} the price he had paid had been, first, | or—to-morrow, life! Yet to-night | nd once, mere, himselt vould gain, if might be. some gay scene, and later would n to her home. | lking hastily now, he gained the | street, the house, once so familiar. Up and down he paced before it, to keep the blood warm in his veins. At last a covered sleigh stopped be- | fore the door, and the bells near rang out one sharp, single stroke. ‘ He cowered behind a “marble lion, as a thief might hide, but his long wait- ing met with its reward. Onv instant the lamplight streamed full upen Beatrice Leonard's face, as,- wrapping her furs more closely about her, she sprang, with a slight shiver, from the sleigh and disappeared within the doors, which flew open to receive her and the tall, stately man who fol- lowed her. = The doors closed. Once again Carlo Dameroff w alone in the darkness the night, indeed, for he knew now rat by his own hand he had shut out ight and the dawn. He died for Madame Florence—for the beauty which had fascinated and bewitched him—but his heart, false and fickle as its beats had been, once and forever, lay in Beatrice Leon- 's own keeping, CHAPTER XVII. me Flerence’s guests had taken departure—all save one. The e and the attache had vanished. Harry, Arkwright remained behind. His mouth was stern, and a weary, anxious lock was in his brown eyes, yhich had seemed born but to laugh- ter. He and his hostess were alone. He rose from his chair and stood be- fore her. “Florence!” he said. She glanced up with a smile so bright that one could not fancy it forced from a breaking heart. “Still the old name?’ she asked, in implied reproach. “Have 1 not told you that it and she who owned it—both are buried? Have I not warned you that it is treason to resurrect their “Both dead?’ he answered, gravely, unheeding her light tone. “Semetimes I fear they are. Really, I feared so to- night. Florence, do you know what your coquetry has wrought?’ She glanced quickly up, forgetting the question in amaze at this man, who dared to her face accuse and re- proach her, in one breath, of coquetry and its result. . Yet, as her eyes scanned the fresh, handsome face, the tall, muscular young form, holding itself so erect and bravely, her anger died in admiration of his noble bearing and the courage which forbade him to utter platitudes of falsehood. “Really!” she responded, “it must be that my ear is, indeed, satiated with flattery that I find your rudeness re freshing.” “Is truth rudeness, Florenée? Phen I, indeed, must bear the implication. But once more I put to you the ques- tion: Do you know the consequences of your rash act to-night? An act which could be dictated only by a wo- man’s vanity and atoned for in a man’s blood?” “Of what are you speaking?’ she re- plied. But, involuntarily, her glance fell to she ribbon on her arm. His hand followed the glance, and lightly clasped her wrist. “IT speak of this, Florence, and you know it well,” he said—“this tiny bit ot ribbon, tinted with the blue of heay- en, but which has done the work of nell—this and the red rose fashioned by God and cursed by man, with weman’s seal upoh the curse. Are you aware j did so, murmuring the while words in | entered the drawing room my bracelet | snatching the ribbon from his coat, tied < that the prince and Lieutenant Damer- off fight to-morrow, and that you are responsible for the duel?” The lovely cheek grew pale. He felt her arm tremble beneath his touch, Her lips quivered. His own glance softened at the signs of womanly weakness. y Then she leaned back in her chai and laughed—a little, low, rippling laugh. “Fight for a ribbon or a flower? Tru- ly, men’s lives on trifles hang. Which, may I ask, is the better swordsman of the two?” Nothing could exceed the languor and utter indifference of her tone. It would have defied the closest scrutiny to have discovered what was the fact—that her heart was beating madly, suffocatingly and the blood congealing in her veins to ice. Over Harry Arkwright’s face swept a look of almost horror, Before him sat the woman whom he had enshrined in his soul as the one perfect being he had met. He had worshipped her for years. Her pain, her suffering, had been to him acutest torture. She ideal- ized womanhood in his sight, And now she Inughed when he told her that one, perhaps two men went for her sake to their death! Laughed! Yet—God help him! he murmured inwardly—he loved ; loved her with the blind, wor- devil, he would love her to the end!” “Florence,” he said, and his voice rang out clear and stern, ‘tell me— what made you do this thing?” “Listen, then, my inquisitor,” she re- plied, as she rose from the table. “My conscience (ah, perhaps you did not know I had a conscience!) whispered to me that I had been overkind to the} prince, who loved me through his van- ity—less kind to the boy, who loved me through his heart. Poor Carlo! He ecnceals his passion poorly! There- fore, I need not hesitate to speak of it, and, after all, he is but a child. He needs the lesson. Well, as you know, I motioned him to give me his arm. He my ear of passionate reproach. As we became entangled in one of the but- tons cn his sleeve. In disengaging it the clasp broké and it fell to the floor. Instantly he stooped to pick it up, and, it together by the silken strand upon my wrist. Poor boy! His uniform had lost its bright bit of coloring, and he ad sacrificed it for my sake, What less could I do than replace it by an- other? Consequently, the rose took its place. For the moment I was abso- lutely forgetful that it was the prince’: gift. This is the story. Is it the story | of a crime?” This, doubtless, was the explanation | which, later, she would murmur in the | prince's ear. Him it’ might satisfy. | Net so with Arkwright. The cloud lift- | ed not from his brow, and his eyes still | were stern. His lips quivered with the | anguish at his heart. Could it be that Louis Gervase had stamped out from | exquisite frame its soul? erence,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “God knows I love you too well, | to deeply, to be either your censor or your judge, nor will words repair the evil wrought. Can you find no way to prevent this duel being fought?” Her face hardened, and the smile died.. . “I am not the prince’s keeper, nor do I control his majesty’s guards. You | put strange questions, Captain Ark- wright.” “At least you will not say I leave them unanswered,” he replied, with | the old imperiousness she so well re- membered; “at least, you shall not re-} proach me that I suggested ends with- out the means. There is one way in which you can prevent the murder of this boy, for it will be murder, let the world call it what it will. There is a way open by which you may yet es- cape the haunting memory of this .t's work, and, Florence, the way is : Let me go to these men to-night —at once—and say to them: ‘The lady for whom you fight to-morrow is my affianced wife. The dispute has been ke, an error. As her future hus- | I ask you to drop this matter be- | tween you.’ The prince is a gentleman. | He will apologize to Dameroff for his | hasty wdrds when he realizes that you, | indeed, are hopelessly lest to either. | Oh, Florence—oh, my love! can you guess the pain which stabbed my heart | to-night, when you let these men whis- per in your ear their flatteries, and an- | swered them with the glance’you know so well how to throw into your eyes? Give up this false, this artificial life. Remember the old days—the old hours!” “Hush!” she cried, springing to her feet. An instant before she had list- ened, her lashes sweeping her cheek, her breast heaving, her lips tremulous. But, alas, at the last words, all woman- ly weakness had fied. “Hush!” she commanded. “You dare bring back that past here? You dare fling Flor- euce Vane in the face of Madame Flor- ence? What living thing, think you, she hates as she hates the girl who bore that name? Go show to the crim inal his portrait when, a little lad, he knelt at his: mother’s knee, when deep in his soul he knows that at his door lies that mother’s early death! Go point to the beggar and the outcast, the rich man feeding by his warm fireside. Tell Dives to look up to Lazarus, and whispering, ‘So might I haye been,’ find content. What these pictures are, each to the other, so is the picture you have painted before me! I love no past—you hear me?—none! I have no future. My life is the*present; and if men Tive for me, let them live; if they die for me, let them die!” Her words struck him like knives, but, through his love, he judged her more truly than she judged herself. The woman in@her slept—lulled to slumber by the poison Gervase had- mingled in her blood. Some day it would waken. i He would be patient to await that day. Aljready it stirred from its slum- bers, She thonght to hush it back to rest by the fiercer denial of its exist- ence. But it yet would convert her de- feat into a glorious victory. Yes, the hour would come; but already two lives hung in the balance. Sadly he looked toward her. There was no relenting, no softening. How would it be when remorse ‘kindled its fires? A second time Arkwright had pleaded in vain. But he forgot his own pain in thinking of that which yet must be hers. “My love,” he whispered, “I shall love you always—remember that,” and then he turned and left her. She threw herself back in the chair witha long, low sigh. Tears—the first that Madame Florence had shed—trick- led unheeded through the closed ting- ers, and splased unheeded on the white lace of her robe. They would fight for me,” she mur- mured, “It must not be. It is as Har- ry says—their blood would stain my soul. But how to prevent it—how?” The question still echoed in her heart when she entered her own apartment. Her maid handed her a note, whicu had been brought during the evening. The envelope was addressed in a crab- bed, unformed hand. . Indifferently she tore it Cpen. Another moment, and her good angel had crossed with her the threshold of her room; but when the note was ended, a mocking demon stood in its stead. Yet the note was very short, and these were the words it held: “A friend would warn Madame Flor- ence that her former husband, Louis Gervase, arrived in St. Petersburg to- day, and is plotting mischief. He in- tends to do her evil.” She crushed the paper in her hand, then thrust it into the very heart of the glowing fire. “He shall know to-morrow that a prince fought for my sake,” she mut- tered to herseif. “He shall know, as well, that I shall wear a prireess’ t!- tle. Louis Gervase, I defy you and the world to harm me then!” Surely this woman, standing in tho midst of the exquisitely-appcinted room—her figure reflected at full length in an opposite mirror, her eyes blazing scorn, her white teeth clenched, her head thrown proudly back—had spoken truly when, leoking at this picture of herself, she said that Florence Vane was dead. “Let them live for me or die for me,” she murmured, with a cruel, mocking smile upon the perfect lips. “It is my due, and through it do I pay my debt to him!” : CHAPTER XVIII. Unmindful of the human joys with which it sympathized, or the human sorrows which it mocked, the next day’s sun rose bright and beautiful above the grand old city of St. Peters- burg. Harry Arkwright, whose eyes had not, clesed through the long night, watched the shadows vanish at its coming, while his heart sickened with ineffable dread. Look where he would, he saw but the brilliant beauty of one woman's face, while in his ear rang the gay mockery of her musical laugh—a laugh which failed to hide from him the pain it meant it to disguise. What added burden should this day lay upon her soul? Whatsoever it might be, its weight equally would rest on his—though, alas, it could make it for her no lighter! In van he sought to find some means by which the sheddirg of man’s blood might at least be spared. Lis task was hopeless. Yet, perhaps, he thought, ere this her mood would have changed. He would appeal to her to see the prince, and ex- ert the magic for good, that heretofore she had wielded but for evil, At as early an hour as he dared he | presented himself fer admittance at the door; but as she looked up form the depths of a great chair in which she gracefully reclined, and languidly ex- tended to him one little, soft hand in greeting, her beauty’s flawlessness de- fying the bright rays of the sunlight which streamed into the dainty boud- oir, the faint hope died ere he scarce had acknowledged its existence. An indefinable change had taken place in the few hours which had elapsed since their parting. He could net tell where it lay or whence it came, but it was there. The evening previous she had feigned hardness; to-day the hardness was no feint. It seemed to him that this de- fined the difference; yet he could not passively accept defeat. It was for her ke that he made the brave struggle against overwhelming odds. “Madame,” he said (he weuld not venture in the future to eall her by the orly name by which he recognized her, though he still held in his the little hand she had given him), it is not yet too late to undo last night’s work. Use but your sorcery, and the prince will spare his victim. I have come to plead with you—not with the same plea I used but a few hours past. Perhaps you may have deemed that selfish; but, casting all thought of self aside, it may be that .you are ready to accept the proud title offered you. Do I not, in- deed, forget myself, when, loving you with all the strength and soul of my manhood, I ask you, then, to go to him and plead this boy’s life as the gift to his future bride?” Each word that he spoke evidenced the effort that it cost him, but save for a slight thrill which he once felt run throngh the hand which trembled in his own, she sat silent and unmoyed, the old, mocking smile upon her lips, When she saw that he had finished, ; and stood waiting her reply, the smile deepened into a little rippling laugh, which somehow reminded him of a cold mountain stream bubbling up from depths which have no warmth. “Mon cher captaine,” she said then, “[ shall have to wound your vanity, like that of Dameroff’s, by calling you ‘boy’. Who but a boy could conceive an idea so romantic? Offer to the prince my heart and hand, that: he may spare another claimant to the same! Solace his jealousy by feeding its fires! Besides, how am I supposed to know anything about the matter? Nor do I wish to know anything. I skall not look im the papers for a month, and I trust my friends will spare me their garbled version. And now, my good friend,,do turn your elo- quence into a more agreeable channel! Stay and breakfast with me, will you not? I feel bored, and I am sure [ shall find in you an entertaining vein. By the way, I have heard among the late distinguished arrivals in St. Peters- burg is a Monsieur Louis Gervase. Is he not the man connected with that scandal in Paris, a little more than a year ago?” And as she asked the question her nonchalant tone never varied, and the lovely, laughing eyes were full to his face. (To be continued.) SCIENTIFIC TOPICS. CURRENT NOTES OF DISCOVERY AND INVENTION. Electric Canal Haulage —England Is Believed to Offer Creat Opportunities for the New Power—Some Recent New Things—Acetylene Gas. Electric Canal Haulage. Expleiters of electric canal haulage systems are confidently looking to England as a field for early operations on an extensive scale. The decay of the vast network of canal communica- tion in that country is due chiefly to the slow speed of transmission as’ compared with that of railways and coasting steamers, and the heavy charges for tolls and for towing, The method of hauling in general use re- mains the same as it was ‘a century ago—by horses. The steam tugboats which have been tried have invariably proved a failure, and now the canal- boat owners are falling back on elec- tricity. A system now under trial gives good promise of being a practical solution of the situation, as it acceler- ates the speed of traction, while ma- terially reducing its cost. It is claim- ed that this economical and efficient method of haulage can be applied to any canal without in the least inter- fering with the use of horses, thus en- abling the latter to be dispensed with by degrees if desired. In this system the motors are made entirely indepen- dent of the barges, which are hauled with ropes, exactly as with horses. In this way the waste of energy incurred with a screw propeller is almost en- tirely obviated. An aerial railway, consisting of two steel rails, braced to- gether at one side so as to form a rigid girder, is supported at a height of nine or ten feet above the towing path by cast iron brackets on wooden posts at intervals of about 30 feet. Each of the rails is a running track for an elec- tric locomotive. This machine is sim- ply an electric motor mounted on a four-wheeled car; two of the wheels run on the upper surface of the rail supporting the weight of the locomo- tive, and two run beneath the rail, bearing against the lower surface in such a way as to insure the stability of the locomotive. The locomotive is controlled entirely from tue barge, no driver being required. he advan- tages claimed for this system are: That the boats require no attention what- ever; the delays in passing incurred with horse haulage are obviated; bridges and tunnels cause neither trou- ble nor delay; no time is lost in wait- ing for a train of barges to be loaded; power can be supplied to private con- sumers at a low rate; the cost of haul- age is reduced by 50 or 60 per cent, and the time occupied in transit by 20 to 50 per cent as compared with horse haulage, and when frost ties up the canal the machine eats up no food. The respective ‘costs per ton mile in English practice are: Haulage with horses, .033c.,and electric haulage, .02c, Jump Seventy-Eight Feet. Ski running is to Norway what cricket is to England and what base- ball is to America, Not only 1s it a national sport, but aside from the fea- tures of amusement it has a practical value which is of no mean importance, The ski is a long piece of strong wood, firmly strapped to the foot and slight- ly turned up at the front end. By means of these skates or snowshoes the peasants of Norway have for gen- erations traveled in winter over the snow covered hills from farm to farm and fiord to fiord. Just as figure and race-skating were the results of the primitive method tue .Dutch used in binding bones to the ‘bottom of their feet and sliding down the frozen canals and ri--~s, so run- ming upon the ski has developed, and perhaps the. most remarkable branch ‘of the art is the jumping of immense distances. Having gained a tremendous impe- tus by running downhill on the ski, the runner takes a leap -~-1 flies through the air for uifty, sixty or sev- enty feet, or even greater lengths. The length of the leap pictured was sev- enty-eight feet. Acetylene Gas. Some of the facts connected with the discovery of acetylene gas are worthy of note. Some time ago Thomas L. Willson of St. Catherine’s, Ont., was smelting for metallurgical purposes. From time to time he used a good deal of rock salt in his furnace stock, and also limestone as a flux. Whenever these two materials were fused to-~ gether the slag produced by the in- tense eléctrical heat included a dirty grayish substance wholly unlike any- thing else he had ever seen. For weeks he noticed this substance witaout gi¥- ing more than passing attention to it, dumping it into the stream upon the bank of which he had built his fur- nace. One day a curious thing oc- curred, and at a time when the pile of slag had become so large that its top rose above the surface of the wa- iter. A minute or two after dumping ‘ne slag as usual into the stream, some of it going under and part of it remain- ing apove the water in a red-hot state, the sizzling and steaming was fol- lowed by a bright burst of flame. The next time Mr. Willson used rock salt and limestone the blaze again agpeared over the slag after it had been cast into the river, and, it being night, he was much struck by the brilliant white light produced, The next time that he had a batch of the queer grayish residue to dispose of he did not waste it, but saved it and poured over it some water for experiment. He held 2 lighted match over the pile, when in- stantly there was a white, glowing flame. For the Summer Room. Here is a pretty and convenient scheme for heating water for 5 o’eloc« tea, This outfit consists of a wire frame and a small brass kettle large enough to hold about a quart of water. The frame can be purchased at, any hard- ware store with the little bowl attached for holding the alcohol. The kettle is filled with water and set over the frame. In a few minutes it is boiling and ready to pour upon the tea. The vessel can be refilled as often as de sired. If kept clean and bright it makes’ an attractive oraszient in the corner of the summer girl’s boudoir. A wire frame can be fitted at home to an old standard and make a fancy bor- der for it. : Heard Forty Miles. A whistle has been constructed at the Atlanta Milling Company’s mill, in Atlanta, Ga., which is audible at Ma- con, 40 miles distant. It is eight feet in height and consists of three bells of special composition of bronze and bell metal, arranged between two disks of steel. The larger bell has the mouth turned upward, and the other two their mouths turned downward, a three-inch pipe conveys the steam through shallow openings in the cir- cular disk. The bells are turned to an an eighth and a fifth of a chord, and harmonize as accurately as the best tuned piano. Through the peculiar ar- rangement of the gongs they chime with the accuracy of a set of well- tuned bells, and the vibrations are such that the sound of the whistle is not harsh, but soft and low, and yet of such power that it can be heard for 40 miles. The amount of steam re- quired to sound the bell would run a 70 horse-power engine. Two steel cables are required to open and close the conical valves, operated by a pul- ley, that admit the steam. New Use for Aluminum. With a pencil of aluminum indelible characters can be written, or drawn, cn ‘glass or porcelain, and when treat- ed with hydrochloric acid the surface covered by the characters becomes etched. Waen the characters are not etched, but simply burnished, they ex- actly. resemble inlaid silver. This property of aluminum was_ recently discovered by Mr, Charles Margot of Geneva, Switzerland. It is indispen- sable first to remove every trace. of grease from the surface to be orna- mented by polishing with chalk, else the aluminum will not take hold. Since the effect is only produced on sub- stances containing silicic acid, it has been suggested that an aluminum pen- cil would be an unerring detector of false diamonds. Magnesium, cadmium and zine act in a similar manner, but their traces readily oxidize, An Accommodating Waterspont. It is very rare that an opportunity occurs to make a truly scientific ob- servation of a waterspout. An Eng- lish engineer, Mr. D. R. Crichton, had what is said to be a unique experience of this kind off Eden, New South Wales, last year, and his report has been published by the Royal Society of that colony. Fourteen complete waterspouts formed off the shore where he was at work with a theodo- lite and he made careful measurements of them. The largest spout consisted of two cones, coanected by a pipe- shaped spout. The top of the upper cone, which was inverted, was 5,014 feet above the sea. Each cone was about 100 feet in diameter at the base, diminishing gradually until it merged into the spout. The length of the cones was about 250 feet eacu, leaving 4,500 feet for the length of the spout connecting them. ~ A New Lampblack. ea A valuable product, especially for} color industry, is produced from ghe soot of the acetylene flames, 1 acetylene gas is burned with a smok- ing flame it produces three or four times as great a quantity of soot as do mineral oils. It is very light in weight and exhibits an absolutely black color without a tinge of brown, and has none of the tarry admixtures or other sub- stances that appear in lambblack. It is also very bulky, and is admirably adapted for use in India ink, and the colors of fine inks for liiuographic work where a positive black is re- quired. It is now being manufacturea in France by a patented process by which eonetaen! bps purity ot color and texture is obtained at a compara- tively small cost. ' ers, Some people can best make their presence felt by their ab : a oa Po sastgttie: