The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 21, 1895, Page 15

.. o THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 1895. - ) 1 PRESERVED THROUGH AGES The Head of a Prehistoric Monster Embedded in Bitumen. IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH, A Discovery in Asphalt Mines of Considerable Value to Science. able discovery was made about :go in the asphaltum mines in County. when miners working arface excavated the skull s were imbedded in the as- deposit, and “in close proximity es of wood in a fair state of n, though hardened and black- : Irish bogwood of forests belong- to a far-away geological period. Fossils in the bowels of the earth are nothing un- ommon, but this jawbone, or skull more than a fossil, which fact g peculiar significance in the study of geolo and natufdl history. There are several teeth in the jawbpne that still have a coat- ingof enamel, which proves that ®ons of ages ago beasts moving amid ‘the desola- tion of earth had teeth differing none either in texture or form from animals of the present age. The enamel is well pre- served in eolor and substance, though in- side it the dentineis changed to asphaltum. The skull is not perfect, as parts of it had _either turned ipto the black substance Fragments of the Prehistoric Skull Found in Asphaltum 125 Feet Below the Surface« [Sketched by a “Call” artist.] gh to show that it was longer head and shaped like that & moose. Theteeth are longer than | se found in a horse, being about three or four inehes long and 137 inches wide, _and they arearranged in long rows, show- t creature had a mouth business. horn noceros. i From the fore- rudes like the but of different pe, b lat and rese: the broad portion of the moose deer orns. It gives the b a formidable aspect, Now it is merely asphaltum that indicates the bone fiber. As a scientific discovery the importance of these fossiliferous fragments can_be ap- n it is known that scientists the origin of asphaltum. ve whose standing enti to quite as much n-s}mch clai ble substance, or at least or; and probably was animal matter s 1at can now be found at the bott ocean. e they fied if p e reserved as some of the most esting specimens in the Berke f natural history. The gments of mbles embedded in asphalt will also be warded, and no doubt there will not be much difficulty in determining its species. The discovery and preservation of exceedingly valuable specime due to Bernard Bienenfeld, a neer connected with the minesat Asphalfo, who studied at the university, “Tt deals with the mysterious,” said he, while describing some of the wonders of study in the almost scientifically unknown region of Asphalto. *It brings usto think of what might have beeni. The mysterious study opens up a new world to our vy “And is it really so wonderful ?”” ““Well, who can explain it_all? tum is supposed to be of animal origin, or of vegetable origin. The presumption fa- vors the theory thatit isfrom the animal matter of infusoria. “And here—see for yourseli—we havea well-preserved head of an animal hewn out of the asphaltum_deposit 120 feet down in the earth. I would not wish to set up an opinion or draw an inference from this fact, but it does impress me strongly that this head was part of the animal remains that formed asphaltum. Possibly it was i Asphal- 0 { ¢ monster. < lhillsidr's; creeks and litdle lakes of sul- phurous water emitting » gas that ignites and blazes, great masses bFsolid bitumen protruding from the ground like lava long grown cold; all these together and a soil on which a strange, stunted brushwood grows form its characteristic landscape. There are large beds of infusorial earth 300 to 400 feet thick and extremely light. The suriace is bleached intensely white by the sun burning out the little asphalt oil on top. Underneath is a brown, impalpable dust like volcano ashes—a mighty ash heap, and yet composed of shells of the infusoria, visible only under a poweriul mieroscope. From the presence of this dustit may be taken that asphalt is infusorial also, be- ing formed out of animal matter of in- | fusoria, while the mineral matter, or white shell dust, remained ahove it. There are beds of brown sand, almost a sandstone, parallel to the direction of as- phalt deposits, and seemingly underlyin, them in the strata. This brown san coheres through the agency of asphaltum material in it, and has stood like a_dike against the erosion of geological periods. One more very interesting feature of the district is the mineral tar, as it is com- monly called, or liquid asphaltum. Itex- udes in many places and trickles downhill until a hollow is réached and black pools are formed. In those pools lizzards, bee- tles, rabbits, birds, and even a deer and a | bear have been found, all embalmed by | the liquid that killed them. THREE GRS D A 0T | How They Continue to Annoy THRE Bt keeper. | Yet the Goat Is Declared to Be a Fine { One and the Geese Are Ready to Roast. and three white geese are waiting to be sold at the Public Pound, 2354 Arthur avenue, Fordham, says the New York Times. Poundmaster Michael Donohue, the black goat and the three white geese were r part of the sale in-ady to carry out tiy | just as announced. The only trouble was that no one went to the sale. Therefore the black goat is still eating thePound- ’s hay, while the geese are getting maste; | fat at his co: | The fact that the sale did not come off | indicates that the goat and goose market | above the Harlem River is overstocked. | Poundmaster Donohue says he will be | thankful to find some one who is willing 50 or 75 cents for the goat. | The Public Pound at Fordham is within | five minutes’ walk of the railroad station. | There was a_blood-red flag flying in front { of the Poundkeeper’s house all day yester- | day. It bore the words, “‘Public Sale.” | Yet no one stopped to buy the black goat or the three whité geese. 5 | _The pound is not a very attractive place. | One knocks at a little red door in the base- | ment of Mr. Donohue’s house and if it be | a day for u sale Mr. Donohue is there to | guide the visitor shrough a dark passage- Way, more or less encumbered with wasb- tubs into the pens at the back of the house | that constitute the public pound. | There is a row of stalls undera long | shed, in which the animals found straying about the streets or vacant lots of the north side are kept until their owners call for | them, or until they are sold at public auc- | tion. | In one of these stalls yesterday the black | goat nibbled bay. He isa first-class goat {In every way. He had long, wavy chin whiskers and a_band of white about his | neck that looked like a necktie, giving him quite a sanctimonious air. A policeman found him down in One Hundred and Thir- ty-third street, and after a long struggle him to the pound. That was seven s ago. Mr. f).muhue said that late one afternoon he saw a swirling-cloud of dust coming’ to- ward the pound from down the road. Finally he found that in the center of the dust cloud were a big policeman and a little goat, but he could not tell which one ‘was doing the leading. That is the .way the sanctimonious- look ng goat went to the pound. The geese arrived on the same day. Poundmaster Donohue kept goat and ceese three days without saying a word. I'hen he had a notice of the coming auction d traightened things about the yard, an d published and waited three days more. The poundmaster hung out the Iittle red 1 Donohue has not given up, and for a or two longer he will keep them in began early yesterday morning to ke preparations for the sale. He and particular attention to the black Fains by butting them once or twice. But all their work was to no purpose. The staid away. “It’s a bad thinfi altogether,” said Mr. a pound Id starve. A lucky thing for me it1s that I have a little outside business. three times his value already, and he will go right on eating for two or three weeks “Do I get many goats here? Well, 1 | should say I did. Seven or eight some claim them. They don’t amount to a little | bit to sell. People don’t want goats. They my milch goat there. She is good for two pints of milk a day. much. Lots of them are brought here. | Not many chickens, though. They know “We have some pretty big sales up here. | Now and then a horse strays in or a cow a sale that amounts to something.” Mr. Donohue added a few words deroga- | see if there were any customers coming | and then gave the black goat and his own sterday. Though they were notsold, pe of finding purchasers. hired man cleaned out all the stalls s toilet. The goat rewarded them for rain came, and goat and¥goose customers Donohue. "If I had to depend on keeping Now, look at that goat. He’s eaten two or longer, bad luck to him. weeks. Some one most always comes to would, though, if the stray goats were like “Geese and such things don’t amount to | enough to go to their own roosts. that no one comes to claim. Then there is tory to goats, went to the street door to | goats their dinners. millions of years ago—who know Who | e g can count the geological periods in years? | Oklahoma for Divorce. Time is lostin it. “And, think of it, here | South Dakota’s Legislature has finally are teeth with the gray enamel still firm, still smooth and shiny, in the asphalt.” He unpacked the fossils with extreme care lest pieces of the friable stuff might crumble ‘off at his touch. Remember, stri speaking, they are more than fossils, for the teeth are enameled, and— fancy the sensation of h.—md]ins portions of a creature that moved and had its being countless ages before this werld was ready for man! 3 One package contained a piece of jaw- bone showing the teeth on the outer side, er showed sections of teeth and the bone in which they were embedded, with rell-like covers for asphalt that once itine. A tooth curved like a seg- f a circle, fuily 3 inches long and by 134 inches in section, weighed arly a pound. The horn is a horrible thing to look It measures about 6 inches in length, 8 inches in width and from 2 to half an inch in thickness. This stood erect between the animal’s eyes, and must have proved a most persuasive feature in his way of argning. . Among the other interesting pieces is a jawbone seven inches long, ina good state -of preservation, and clearly showing the bone fiber, although really nothing but so much asphalttim, save where the enamel projects. They will have to be put together by the professors at the university, who may be able to reconstruct a complete .skullc?:fi prehistoric animal that roamed over orniain the terti ¢ ; SRR 4 he tertiary or quaternary . Practically little < y geological “w been done in_the region E\vhem th‘;’}‘,,;,‘fi: were found. Just fifty miles to the west of Bakersfield, high up in the desolate moun- tains skirting the western San Joaquin Valley, this strange land lies, Blimiin gshes and parched white dust, pools 0’% liquid asphaltum and streams of that plichy viscid stuff trickling from cracks in | defeated the effort to amend the divorce | law of that State on the line of “free-and- | easy.” The movement to re-establish the | old_conditions, under which no previous residence in the Territory was necessary to the beginning of a suit for divorce, which would be forthcoming in ninety days, has | failed, and the hm.eF-keepers and lawyers | are in a condition of disgust, says the St. | Louis Republi | , Oklahoma is taking the place in odorous fame which South Dakota has refused to | resume. Practically the old Dakota divorce law now qre\'ails in Oklahoma, with the { additional advantage that no notice is to be served upon the person from whom a divorce is sought, \mqms by accident he or | she should happen to see a printed notice | of the application in some obscure Okla- homa paper. Several large hotels are to be erected in the principal towns of Oklahoma, and the divorce lawyers of South Dakota’ are pre- paring to move. ——————— A story is told of an English surgeon who, in his earlier days, nbte%ded a crficiul operation in Paris. hen it was over the complete silence and immobility of the | patient held the students in awed sus- pense. After a few moments, seeing stall no signs of the agonies, they knew the patient must be suffering. they exclaimed in one breath: “He 15 dead; he is dead!” “No, gentlemen,” one of the chief surgeons answered, “‘he is not dead; he is Englisn.” | “An interdenominational convention of Christian ministers is to be held in Vir- ginia duflni the present month. The list | of those who will take part includes 119 Methodists, 114 Baptists, 30 Presbyterians, 15 Lutherans and 11 Episcopalians. The convention is called to discuss the office of the Holy Bpirit. PUTTING ON THE PATCHES, How Valuable Paintings Are Mended by Skilled Artists. A STORY OF ONE OF THEM Three Years’ Time Is Taken Up to Restore a Single Canvas. ‘When I tell you that by a certain science and a delicate art the paint can be removed from wood or canvas and successfully placed upon new canvas, and that even the ink upon a fine engraving may be trans- ferred from one piece to another without in the least destroying the impression of the picture, you may be astonished, al- though, in fact, this is being done every day by the men engaged in this remark- able art, writes Marvin R. Clark in the Philadelphia Times. It is a delicate art, as you will readily understand, and re- quires a patient hand and the eye of an artist to perform the work, but these are at the service of those who can afford to pay well for the work. The most delicate part of this peculiar art and that which is most remunerative is the work upon paintings, and this has two distinet branches—one the easy process of filling the cracks made by age or accident, and the other the more difficult art of transferring a paintine from one canvas to another, and what is most difficult of all work, the transferring of a painting from wood to canvas. The first work—that of filling the cracks—is done with a composi- tion worked in frem the back, after which 1t is backed with canvas. | The renovator of oil paintings makes light of the ordinary work of transferring the canvas-backed painting to a new canvas, but it takes years of experience to accomplish the simplest part of this work, and few men are born who have the tact and delicacy of touch requisite for the art. In such transferring several pieces of tissue paper are pasted on the face of the f],mint- | ing after it is removed from the frame. When this is completely dry the canvas is thoroughly wet and then it is peeled and picked thoroughly, thread by thread, from the back of the picture, thus leaving the ainting fast to the paper on the face. When t%is is dried again a new canvasis glued to the back of the picture, and after this in turn is dry the tissue paper is wet and peeled off from the face. "When again thoronghly dry the picture is ready for the cleaning and renovating process. The transferring of paintings has been rendered more difficult of late years for the.reason that ver{ many paintings of modern times have been done upon wood because painters have become fond of painting on wood on account of its being so firm and smooth under the brush. Many artists in Spain and Italy use wood now almost exclusively, and our American arfists are rafuidly following their example. But wood will decay, and when 1t does it must be looked after and repaired, and sometimes the entire painting must be transferred from this rotting wood in order to preserve it from ruin and complete ex- tinetion. The picture-mender worthy of his title is an aristocrat and he necessarily feels his | importance, for is he not a man of science? Indeed he is, and a man with a science, too. He has learned -his science through many years of experience, perhaps, for the very men who are noted for being adepts in the art—and there are only three of them throughout the entire length and breadth of New York—were brought up, it may be said, one in an artist's studio and the othersin an artstore, where engrav- infs of a doubtful ownership were kept for sale. All started from low and impover- ished beginnings and all have made them- selves wealthy by good work andscunning speech. Three onfy, in a city of a million and a half souls, have reached perfection in an art that pays the artisan a greater remuneration than even the master paint- ers of modern times receive for their labor with brush and pencil. Through the courtesy of the owner of a large artstore I procured the name and ad- dress of the picture-mender regarded by him asjthe best of the three, while he re- iterated ‘‘there are onmly three picture- menders in the entire city, sir, only three and no more—not even any pretenders.” In reply to my question as to the profitable- ness of the business of picture-mending, this gentleman said : I do not know of any profession or busi- ness, trade or whatever name you may | call an occupation by that can compare the profession of picture-mending in re- gard to its money-making qualifications, especially when you consider the small amount of capital and outlay required to carry on the work. In facta man witha good idea of the work before him may start without a cent and make a fortune in a year. There is always plenty of work for him to do, and the only difficulty lies with us who take the work from our regular customers and turn it oyer to the gic!nre—mender. ‘We are pestered to death y the owners of pictures and engravings who are always anxious to get back their Ezz pictures, and it is often a Kear or more fore the return of some of the most par- ticular work. ‘‘It is a singular fact,” continued the art- dealer, *‘that as soon as a picture gets in- jured in any way it becomes an ofijech of greater interest to the owner and takes such high rankin the mind of its possessor that we have come to call such cripples ‘pets’ to the faces of their owners and ‘cripples’ behind their backs. In fact, they are entered on our book of repairs as ‘cripples,’ and known as such throughout the store. Hpelkini; of picture-menders, however, this one I gave you the address of has been in the business for many years, and is now worth, to my certain ‘knowl- edee, $150,000. A portion af this amount he_has accumulated_ by speculation in oil paintings, but the bulk "of it he has gath-. ered in for his work. You will find his Jarge Parl.oru filled with choice. paintings by both old and modern painters, and many of them are of great value, while none are cheap works. Give him a call and you will profit by it.” The residence and workroom, as well as what might be called the gallery of this gjctur&mender is not far uptown in New ork City, and is a pretentious looking four-story brownstone residence, finished in costly hard woods and elegantly deco- rated throughout. It is 20 or 25 feet front by some 70 feet in depth. There was no indication of the occupation of the occu- ?mt upon the outside of the house, and hesitated before touching the electric bell with a feeling of cer’ainty that this’ elegant and stately mansion could not be the workroom of a picture-mender. But it proved to be such. I was ushered into the parlor and asked for my card. I was absorbed in the contemplation of a masterly work of art by one of our own American boys when a soft voice came up over my shoulder and into my ear: “‘A fine thing, that. Pity the poor boy is dead, I say, although, of course, {ou know, his work never was worth anything until he tl‘uiue«‘l the great majority. Pity, isn’t it, that artists, like all the rest of human- ity, are never fully :pg?mabed until they are dead and gone from the face of the earth. Fame, sir, fame is what all the artists are looking for, and few of them get it until after they are dead, and then what ‘does it do them? .'fhe starve and ie by inches all their lives for fame and seldom get a taste of it. Iamat your service, sir.”’ It was the picture-mender. To my surprise the second floor of this costly mansion was fitted up as what ap- red at first sight to bea carpenter-shop, or once out of the hallway and in the front room the mansion lost its identity. There was a long, broad carpenter’s bench, with vises and all the tools requisite for the work of a carpenter, and in the back room was another bench or tabls covered with tools in great variety. At the bench wasa young man employed in planing what appeared to be a piece of oak with a jack plane whose iron was concave, for the wood was grooved in large grooves by the operation of the tool. %{e was getting rid of the wood upon which a celebrated painting was placed many years ago, and when he succeeded in working it down to the white backing of the painting it was to be mounted upon canvas and nobody but a connoisseur on close scrutiny would know the difference. This wood was decayed in several places. In the front room other work was being carried on and still other branches of the business was being attended to by several people on the third floor. “F am very busy now,” said the picture- mender, ‘‘for my patrons have mostly re- turned from the country and the winter is coming on. I getthe bulk of the work in .this and several other cities and manage to keep going all the year round, with work enough ahead not in'a hurry to keep us at it for a year or two. “Yes, our work is varied, but itis all in paintings. We get paintings that are unched with canes, umbrellas, chairs, 1ls from the hands of children, smoked and burned with both fire and acid, almost ruined by some fool of a picture-cleaner or by the owners themselves, who want to be penny wise and pound foolish, We get Ppictures in all sorts of crippled condition, and you would be dumfounded to see some of them when they come here mangled beyond recognition and look at them when we get through with them. “The biggest part of my work is mending ictures 51“ have been ruined by care- e-snegs, but I do a good deal of restoring and cleaning—renovating it is called— and nearly all the fine work in transferring comes to me for I haye always made a success of it. You'd be surprised to know the number of ‘crip- ples’ we get in a year. Theownersof valu- able paintines are very careless about them. It seems to me that parlors where there are valuable paintings and other works of art are very costly places for the children to play ball and shoot air gunsin, But I proflt)hy such indulgences to the babies of wealthy people and will not complain.” P THE DECKIAND. It was a feature of Herringbourne that | the people always wanted something to lean against. As individuals they leaned against walls; as a community they were held up by the church, the brewery and Hurley’s Fleet. When the church had done its “teas” and the brewery its malt- ing the Fleet was a strong supporter. On a November afternoon, when the branches of the trees on the quay were black and bare, the water in the harbor a mud color and the blocks on the rigging of the moored ships stood out like warts against a cold, gray sky, Genth Hurley, the Fleet owner, was doing what all owners do—he was paying a smack’s crew their poundage. The! smack had just come up and the crew, in duffels, guernseys and sou'westers, were scattered about the office, They were a stalwart set of men with basin-cropped heads and shaved mnecks. Some had brought their shifting bags . ashore. and, with the cheerful ease of men who had not washed for eight weeks, sat on the tops of them. One big fellow, seated thus, nursed on his sea boots a boy o small and black that he looked as if he had ‘;xst dropped down a flue. He was the cook. “Well, skipper,” said Genth, as he put first one and then another little pile of money on his desk, “what sort of weather have you had?” » s “Well, ovner,” said the skipper, who was feeling ahout his head for a chaw of tobacco, which he had dabbed at his son’- wester and lost in_his hair, “I'll speak the truth. It wos b'isterous. A tree reeved sail an’ the little jib nearly all the time, | an’ mount’ins o’ sea on the Dogger. Also, a most unfortinate sarcnmstance; a-comin home poor_ Billy Dabbs near]{ ad his bows stove in with the mainsul bume.” “I see,”” said Genth, ‘you are a man short. I'm sorry about poor Billy. Per- haps one of you will take him his pound- age? You'll have to ship another man, olmes. Here's your money; my lads.” He laid the last little pile of money on his desk. One by one the crew claimed their own. When ail were paid, and the sound of .the last pair of sea boots had died on the pavement, Geith started to put ihe books right. He was about eight-and- twenty, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a plain earnest face. Before he had finished the soft illumination of the setting sun had tinted the muddy water thateddied against the bridge. When the red-tiled roofs on the c:{\posife side were a glowing orange he heard a knock. “Come in!’’ he cried. The invitation met no &rompt response. There was a fumble with the handle, a fatiguing wiping of feet on the flags, then, as if by electricity, the door flew open. “Well?"” said Genth. “What is it “I have come,” said the visitor, “about a berth—on a smack.” “It’s no use coming to me, my man,” said Hurley, “You must go to the skip- pers. Idon’t ship any one.’ “The skippers, said the other; ‘‘why they’d laugh at me. I don’tbelieve they’d have me for ballast. Yet they’d have iven something for a nod from me once. fhnd no need then to come like nbegg}a{r to ;he "Fleet—-not I. You know that, Hur- ey. i‘or the first time Genth looked up. His pen dropped from his fingers and made a reat blot on the neatly ruled page. ‘“Tom glarrin on!” he exclaimed. “All that’s left of him,’” said the arrival with a smile that seemed to court some sort of praise for the remains; “rather shady, down at the heel, pockets empty, u&(firn’ of his splendor, but Tom Harrington still.” Genth surmised as much. Tom Harring- ton was the son of a Herringbourne solici- tor. The old lawyer had worked hard to save money ; his son, to spend it, In three or four years Tom Harrington had spent the accumulations of thirty or forty. Yet he had been more fortunate than Genth Hurley, for he had won from Genth the woman he loved, As Genth looked at Harrington the change in the latter startled him. There still existed the cut of the man, trimnesu,mfnuutlness. His hands were still small and white, his face handsome. But the fire in the shifty blue eyes burned low; they were encircled by dark, hollow rims, and the full, red lips were a shade blue and tremulous. He was Genth'’s age, but looked older. He had lost a lot of health in the shearing process. “T was told,” said Hurley,'” “you were goiwg the pace, but I never thought it was 80 bad as this. I'm sorry—" “Don’t—don’t preach; I get enough of that at home.” Genth’s dark eyes unconsciously hard- ened. ‘‘How were you brought to this?” he asked. “C’s and B’s—cards and billiards—and incidentally, B’s and 8’s. In my time have backed many horses. If they'd won I shouldn’t have been here. Understand, I'm not the only one—plenty have been broke besides me. In gentlemanly games, too. All of us love sport. It is the back- bone of England. I can't see it’smy fault; it’s the old man’s.” Genth looked at him inquiringly, “If the old man didn’t mean me to be a gentleman, why did he make a gentleman of me? W'hy id he send me to a tip-top school, give me first-class ideas and then die and not leave me enough money to de- velop these first-class ideas? That puz- zles me. Now, if I hadn’t been a soft fool; E {, Jhad married a woman who had got a it — Genth's eyes grew harder. He picked up his pen and slowly drew a piece of blocting paper over the ink blot. “How is your e?” he asked lbrlt_l{)%lg “Oh, Nell is all right. She takes a bit of dmamn' 9n1d ng:lgml:ryhfhe wuB:l- ways a Wil er ers, But sonyxeh()w tra e?u fallen off m%h her; so I'm_ forced to do mmethmgi Oh, you needn’t look at me like that. have tried before. 1 tried once for a place as billi but some other fellow got th mr'me and I hadall the fi‘:\lble::;l nothir,x'g. But when itfemes to your last loaf— S “My good— X "lt‘}; time _to wake up; so I thought of the Fleet. When there is nothing else do- ing every one thinksof the Fleel ; and if you have a berth ready for me to jump into, why, I'm your man.’” He had suddenly set more than a ballast value on himself. If sp(;wed that Harrington was still mercu- rial, . » “Well,” said. Genth, “a vessel came in this afternoon, the Comet. One of the men, a_deckhand, was injured by the boom. You can go in her if you like.” Harrington looked by no means elated. It was evident that one of the last things he expected was to be taken at his word. He_had hoped for somethin(; better, an easier job, perhaps a loan. “I'm sure,” he said, “I don’t know whether I'm strong enough. I could try it.” **You could,” said Genth, grimly. ““If you give this note to John Holmes, the'skipper of the Comet, he’ll take you.” “Thankee,” said Harrington, but by no means gracefully. Then he stood a mo ment, fifigeted and coughed. #Yes,” said Genth, who easily read these tokens, “I'll advance you a month’s pay. Here is half; the rest I'll send to your wife. If she wants more while you are at sea she shall have it.” “Why can’t I take the lot?”’ asked Har- rin?on querulously. “Can’t youtrust me?” “I'm afraid not.” : “Good afternoon,” said the budding smacksman, and he turned on his heel. “Stop a minute,” said Genth. ‘Take the money. I thought you might be tempted. And now listen, Tom. EI_f you do go I wish you luck. Make one trip and directly your foot again touches Herring- bourne guay I will find you something better. Here is my band on it.” The angry flush on Harrington’s face died away, the shifty look in his eyes van- ished, and his form suddenly straightened, for a time only. Then the old expression came back, his shoulders drooped, and, muttering something, he shambled out. When he was gone Genth restlessly paced the office. His successful rival had come to this. He thought of a little house on the hill and_a garden overlooking the sea, where old Ned Hall, the retired master of the floating light, had eked out his and his life; and sweet Nelly Hall L laughing blue eyes and chestnut hair. ‘Were those eyes now dim, the cheeks care- worn, the hnfi:rs—? With a sigh he closed his bool , put the key in the office door, and, paler than usual, stepped out upon the pavement. X Contrary to Genth Hurley’s expectations Tom Harrington took the berth offered him. A week after the interview in the office he sailed in the Comet for the fishing- rounds of the North Sea. Eight weeks, ong and dreary to those at sea, soon pass ashore. To Genth, in the office, time flew. The morning the Comet was due again found him ngr\'uusly acing the qua; e had found a desk for g)im in the office, and under his own eye Harrington should com- mence the new life. Though Genth's mind was busy his eyeskept straying down the harbor; and at last he heard the pant, pant of a tug and saw her red-banded fun- nel passing the lower ferry. Astern wasa dandy-rigged trawler. Sgores of smacks and luggers were already moored at the ~ quayside, and what with scandal- ized sails, masts, shrouds and dangling halliards it was a minute or two before he could make her out. When the snake- like coil of the tow-rope was cast off and the tug sheered out, Genth saw the new- comer was the Comet. He made a step forward, then stopped as if he had been shot. His eyes were glued to her rigging. She was flying her flag half-mast high! It was not the first time Genth had beheld that ominous sign, but now it turned him faint. In his mind ran one thought—sup- ose it was flying for Tom Harrington! y{e stood for a minute fascinated, then walked gloomily back to the office. He sat there with his face buried in his hands, when the opening of the door, the sound of sea boots, and the voice of Holmes, aroused him. “I ken see, owner,” he said, “you ha’ been on the quay.” “Tell me,” said Genth with dry lips, “whom Lave you lost?"" The skipper of the Comget passed a large band through his oakum-textured hair. “Well, owner,” he said slowly, “I'll speak the truth. 'Twor this way: The wind were east—"" In God’s name!” cried it? ““To sail straight to the pint, owner, ’tis the new deck chap.” Genth looked at him helpless}i‘. Har- rington! He had made all his little plans and a greater hand than his had swept them away. ‘“When did this take place?’ he asked. ““The night afore last. We wor a-comin’ home,” said Holmes, directing hisgaze toa nautical almanac and telling his tale to it as it hung on a nail, “wi’ the wind east- nor'east; I had jest fixed the port an’ star- board lights an’ wos taking a spell at the tiller. All of a suddent I sees a great green sea a-comin’, which I knew we’d ship, an’ I sung out to the chaps to keep below. Just as the words passed my lips some one Eenth, “who is . “Come in,” cried Genth, cheerily—“come in, my man. You wanted to see me?”’ In a hesitating way the other stepped forward; particles of snow had melted on his beard and hung in glistening drcgs “Don’t you know me, Hurley?” he| asked, in a trembling tone. . “I wonder if | i\ell, will know me? I'm Tom Harring- | on.” ‘With a-strange gurgling cry Genth ell | back and clutched at the mantelpiece. He | seemed turned tostone. The visitor looked | wistfully at the bright fire and caressed | his thin hands as if fie were warming them. | {No, no!”- gasped Genth hoarsely, “not him!—not Tom Harrington! e was | drowned at sea.’’ | ““Not drowned,” said the other, and_his voice sounded so gentle, so unlike the Har- | rington of old, that there was plenty of room for mistaking his identity; “but | picked up by a schooner when he had lost all hope. I'was carried to a strange place, | and 1 had the fever.” Hedrew a little nearer the fire and put his hand on the back | of a chair, then with a smile he looked at | Genth. Hurley’'s face wore an awful | frozen look. e appeared cowering back. | “I'm very tired,” said the wanderer fee- bly. “May I sit down? I have beento | some strange places, but T’'m home now, and want to find Nell. I have been to the | old house, but she was not there. But 1 you'll hcip me to find her, won't you? You'll tell me where she is?” - | His voice was eager, and again he looked | at Genth. The door of the room was only | artly closed, and through 1t there came a | Enim. cry; then a soothing sound; then a cry louder than the first. The rescued man pricked his ears. | “A baby!"” he said. *‘So you are married. | Perhaps—perhaps,” he ‘added, timidly, | “you (Eon’t want me here. I had better | go. Ihad noright to come; but I thought you could tell me where Nell was.” gazed again at the fire, and his shabby fingers strayed over the buttons of his threadbare coat. With an effort he stag- gered up. It was only Genth’s lips that moved. ‘“Yes, yes,” he said in a hollow tone, “go! And in the name of God go quick! To-morrow—I’ll see you to-morrow.’ A gust of wind drove the snow against the window. Before the fleeting patterns of the flakes were off the glass another gust made them afresh. Harrington shiv- ered. “It's very cold,” he said, “but I'll walk quitk, and you'll tell me where to | find Nell 2”7 | _As he put the question there sounded a | rippling laugh; then the joyous snatch of a song, as some one tripped down the | stairs. The wanderer's face grew bright. | He held n{) his hands. ‘Listen!”" he | cried breathlessly. ‘There is Nell's voice! | My Nell! That’s the song she used to sing | long ago! Why, she is here. Hurley— | she” is—’ He turned wonderingly to | Gents. The smack-owner’s jaw had fallen, his teeth were chattering, and, trembling | in every limb, he barely held up by the | mantelpiece. | A puzzled look stole over Harrington's face. It cleared, and he, too, began to tremble. “Your wife!” he whispered. | *“You have married her! You thought me | dead! Iam going—I am going!"’ | He put his hand out to feel4or the door. | He was trying to find the handle when it | swung open and Nell stood on the | threshold. He gave a low sob, and_with | bent head tried to pass her. She tried to | see his face. | “Tam going, Nell,” he mumbled—"I am | ® oing.”” He was quite helpless now, and Elin ed by tears. 3 At the sound of his voice, at the sight of the shaky. figure grown suddenly old, some memory stirred her, and she clutched him by the arm. He lifted hishead; their eyes met, and with a wild scream she sank to the floor. An hour later a doctor came. He looked at Harrington, who had been put to bed, and shook his head. “I'm no use,” he said. “Cold, exposure, a debilitated con- stitution. The man has been dying for weeks. He may last the night out; I deubt it.” g The doctor was right. Harrington grad- ually grew weaker and weaker. His brain wandered to strange scenes, the River Plata, Costa Rica; then home and Nell. When his mind partially cleared she was bending over him and Genth sat holding his hand. Like a child he put up his face and she kissed him. He looked, smiling, at Genth, then his head fell back on the pillow. “Iam going,” he said softly—"I am going.” There was a faint flutter of breath and his eyes closed. The deckhand had gone.—Charles King in Chambers’ Journal. A Bicycle Highway. Benton Harbor will be the first city in the United States to build along one of its public streets a track for the exclusive use of bicycles, says a dispatch in the Detroit Free Press. Plans are nmow complete for the way along Territorial street, and to- morrow morning graders will be set to work to carry out the design. It is pro- posed to construct the track 6 feet wide along the side of the adjoining street, and ona Erade even with the sidewalk, leaving the shade trees to mark the line between the path for pedestrians and that for the wheel riders. The gutter will be recon- structed along the side of the bicycle track, and the outer edge of the latter will be de- fined and protected by posts placed at in- tervals, which can be_utilized as hitehin, posts. The path will be made of eartl with hard clay surface. About one mile of the track will be built now as an experi- ment. Ifit proves satisfactory, trackson the principal streets along the town will be made. ——————— s A Serious Subject. She (sentimentally)—There is always an element of sadness and solemnity in a wedding. \ He (cheerfully)—Oh, yes; but I don’t are so long as it’s somebody else’s wed- ding. —— s o o An advertisement in a New York daily stated that ‘“a one-legged man would learn of something to his advuntage” by calling at a certain address. A curious individual called and met the advertiser, a man who had lost his right leg. Hesaid: “If I can find a man who has lost the other leg and wears the same size shoe that I do, we can | whack up, and by buying our shoes to- gether we would save considerable.” In Boston on St. Patrick’s day twelve parading members of the Sarsfield Guardg carried rifles in violation of the law, and Captain J. A. Murphy submitted by ar- rangement to arrest with a view of testing the law. Itis proposed to get an authorie tative decision as to the constitutionality of the act of 1893 which forbids private organizations to parade in public with fire« arms. ! NEW TO-DAY. LIKE A MIRACLE. A Grateful Patient Who Will Recommend the Hudson Medical Institute to His Friends. Mr. Samuel Brown Allen Only Too Gladly Sends His Testimony. ZACATECAS, Mexico. Nov. 7, '94. Hudson Medical Institule—GENTLEMEN: After T received the medicine which was sent to me through my order by Wells, Fargo & Co.'s Express in September last, ¥ started taking said treatment | on the 7th of October up to this date, and the med- icine is just finished. I must herein inform you that for such a short time and with sucha smail quantity of medicine it seems like & great miracle. and I cannot do otherwise than give my testimony about your treatment. To begin with, I must say that for over four years [ have beén suffering from disgusting feelings at night, my sleep always helng distressing. In the morning I always felt as tired as if T had been working all night and always bad some depressing dreams. My appetite was very poor. I could not eat & com- fortable meal twithout taking two or three strong drnks of Mexican tequila, and regularly when I finished eating my meal there was a sickening of the stomach and then I had to through the majl, T must also say thanks to the San Franciseo Chronicle, who sent the advertise- ment of the HUDSON 'MEDICAL INSTITUTS in ome of its pages, so that all suffering humanity may most truly find out where 1o cure their many sufferings. In short, I must say thai for me the HUDSON MEDICAL INSTITUTE has done wonders, and Tam willing to answer any questions which any one may choose to ask me, personally or by letter, as to my cure which said {nstitute has dona for me, while I have the Lonor to remain, Eentlemen, very respectfully, your obedient serv- [Signed] SAMUEL BROWN ALLEN. Zacatecas, Mexico. P. 8.—Now all of the above feelings which T had before are all gone and Iem & new man. I shall not need any more of your medicine for the future. 1 shall recommend the Hudson Medical Institute o all whom T know suffer so that. they may cure . B. A themselves. Tt is now a matter of common notoriety that the Hudson Medical Instltute is doing more good for throw up all that T had eaten. 1¢ I did not throw up, it was because I had a cigar or a couple of cig- | areties, then and there, as soon as I stopped eating. 1 also ised to have a kind of dizzy spell and had 10 | opped out o’ the hoodway (companion). 'he sea an’ him must ha’ touched the Com- et’s deck at the same time, an’ afore I could clutch him he wos swept over the starboard rail. I hulled a belt at him an’ put the til- ler up. A’most as sune as we gat about, our boat was launched, an’ the chaps were in her. They pulled like madmen; but you know, owner, how fast a drowndin’ man drifts to wind’ard. They conld never git nigh him; an’ when I picked the crew o’ the boat up they wor done for, They couldn’t ha’ pulled angther stroke for the Indies. An’the deck chap wos ionc. All we_picked up wos phis.” He held up a soiled sou'wester. ““You must report it,”” said Genth, heav- ilp—*‘it's all you can do now.” olmes nodded and slouched away. ‘When he was gone Genth went to his desk and drew from it a sheet of note paper. On it was written the number of a ‘“‘row.” “And I must break the news,” he said. On a bleak January afternoon, two years ter, a man came throu&'h the tollgate. To save a mile or so, he had reached Herring- bourne by a cheerless, treeless cut called the New Road. He was thin and bearded. His clothes were shabby and his steps un- certain. As he tendered the hali-penny toll his fingers burned like fire. The sun went down as he came through the gate, and the traveler shivered. An easterly wind was blowing. It lay in wait for him as he rounded a corner and a roaring gust brought for breath, But afillghe him up ga‘s)gin wearily plodded on. At last he stop before a “row,” went up it, and then stopped again in front of a house with the shutters closed. On them was chalked —“To Let.” In a dazed sort of way he looked at the letters, then made his way to the gquay. Here he halted at_the officc of Hurley’s Fleet. With atrembling hand he tried the door. It was locked. Then, in- deed, he seemed to lose heart, and sat a moment on the doorstep. He was lookin, at the black bough of a tree that flnppes noisily against a lighted lamp, when a smacksman came past. The weary object stopdped him and asked where Hurley lived. He was told; and with a sigh went on again, this time toward the Drive. The sky grew darker, and it began to snow, first 1n light flakes, that he feebly tried to brush away, then faster. Soon he heard the roar of the an sea and saw the flaming eye of the Flmfinfi Light as it rocked inside the Scroby. Here the wind blew fiercer; it gathered the white flakes together and hurled them into his face till they blinded him. Shfifing, clutching at iron rails and turning his face to them when the strong gusts swept off the sea, he went till he reached the gate of a house where the blinds were gnrted and the room_illuminated by gasjets and am ) leaping fire. By that fire a man sat reading. It was Genth Hurley. The stranker outside opened the sate, the wind drove him up te the door, and he pulled the bell. It was answered by a servant, who i gazed at him curiously. He asked if he could see the smack-owner. “Of course you can,” shesaid, sh. y. “But shake some of that snow off1” - .He tried, but his fingers seemed nurab. She impatiently beckoned ‘him in and leit him on the mat while she informed her master a man wanted . Before she could speak the visitor had stolen up be- hind. As she drew back he and Genth came face to face, The attitude of the :l‘::b'gy figure was humble and his knees 00] slt down to vrevent from falling. My sight was | very dim or dark, and I conld not make out a small objeet at two hundred or three hundrea yards dis- tance, I could only see the shape as it moved, but could not tell whether it was & man or & woman. Ialso used to have spells of headache, and there has always been nervousness throughout my whole frame, especially my legs and arms. I could not lift half the weight T was once able to, and my tongue was a regular mass of whiteness and noth- ing tasted good. But, gentlemen, since I commenced taking your treatment I commenced w&l a great chl::m I had nervous debility, biliousness, and my general pains were rheumatic pains. I must say your treatment drives all such painsaway.and Iam enjoying a different life and - bfl- Tam ood and now making new flesh, creating more and n I can see pretiy up in the morning i more ' weight. clearly, sleep as a buck, wake at present as 4 man who 'has been on a long jour- ney and, afier a good night's rest, feels refreshed in (he morning when I wake, Although I have not Deen in here where I could weigh myselt. T could say that I am greatly improved in weight; but as soon as I can manage to weigh myself you T e HUDSON mi n o MEDICAL INSTITUTE has one for me what X did not believe could have been done for me those who are really sick than any institution of its nature on the continent, and it is proverblal that “if yon can be cured at all you can be cured at that ipstitation QUITE QUICKLY, QUIETLY, SAFELY, SCIBNTIFICALLY AND SATISFAC® TORILY.” The Hudson Medical Institute now oecug(ou that large white structure at the junction of 3 Market and Ellis streets, San Francisco, Cal. Circulars and testimonials of cures effected sent free. HUDSON MEGICAL INSTITUTE, Stockton, Market and Ellis Sts. w' Send for ProfessorJ. A. Hudson’s cel ated lecture on the ““Errors of Xouth and Lost Manhood.”” It will cost you noth- Visit the Institute when you can. All patients seen in private consulting rooms.” Out of town patients can learn all about their cases if they send for symptom blanks. All letters are strictly confi- dentlal. Two thousend testimonials in the Wwriting of individuals cured. hours:' 9 A.M.to 8 P. M, 8 9 to 134