/)- ' CHAPTER!.
OREAT storm toad
raged with una
bated fury for three
days, but now at
the shutting down
of twilight the
clouds were break
ing. and toward
the sunset there
gleamed a single
spark of blood-red
..n light low down
upon the western mountains. The wind
had changed from the east, and the
breeze that fanned the boyish brow of
Ralph Trenholme as he paced back and
forth over the shingly shore, was like
the breath of early June. And it was
the last of October. The nea was still
high, tossing in at intervals remnants
of the lll#tarred ship that had gone to
pieces on Joliet Rock, Just outride the
hartor’jnibvrth of Portlea.
Hoej uitxloua had been the hearts on
shore tiff that wretched ship! How
earnestly they had watched it since
early dawn, when It had appeared in the
offing—driven about helpless, at the
mercy of the winds and waters, and at
last dashed upon the cruel rocks. Thoy
had devised iVainly among themselves,
those harflg fishermen, wnyS and means
to save the vessel from her fate. The
prouckralstress of Trenholme House—
bet^eunown as High Rock—had come
out Into the storm, as pale and anxious
at the ruffist fisherman's wife among
them—come out to beg them to do all
thabhAmrfh'arm could do; to ofTer them
golf'll they could save hut one poor
life4, and, those brave, courageous men
had looked at her, and at oach other,
sorrowfully and In silence; they knew
by stern experience that no boat oould
live an honr In a sea like that. And so
the ship was left to go down unaided.
But Ralph Trenholme could not bo
quiet. With the daring Impulsiveness
Of a boy of fourteen, he bad thrice
launched the Sea Foam, bis own little
boat, to gp to the aid of the sufferers,
but as uby times had the men of the
coast forced him back. They would
not stand by and see him go to death
for nought. Ralph fought against
them bfavely, but was obliged to yield,
and restless, and chafing at his Inac
tivity, which seemed to him almost
cowardly, he- paced the shore, and
jooaecr out 10 sea.
There camrf a great wave. He watched
It rising afar off, and aaw that it bore
upon Its crdit something whiter than
even the toafli. He darted down to the
water line, and stood there when it
came so near that It drenched him
through, but he caught the precious
freight it bore in his arms, and by the
wan light he looked into the face of a
little child—a girl—perhaps six or seven
years old, with pure features, stilled
", Into calm repose, and long, curling locks
■ of gold, floating dripping down, and
tangled with seaweed. She waa dressed
In white, and around her waist was a
scarf of blue tissue, but the other end
a; was lost, torn away, probably, from the
support to which she had been bound
bysome ohe who had cared to save her.
ttalph gathered her up with something
Uluttriumph swelling his heart. If
ag she were only alive he might have the
" satisfaction of knowing that he had
' saved a life, for it she had been dashed
in upon ' the shore, the sharp rocks
:f; would have crushed out from that beau
'll titu! face every semblance of humanity.
,/ He puts his lips down to hers. There
-s “was a faint warmth. He ran up the
steep path leading to High Rock, bear
- Ing his treasure in his arms, and in to
... his mother, who was sitting before the
' great fird that streamed redly up the
chimney.
\ a “See what the sea has given me!” he
cried, putting her down on the sofa. “A
;fT real little sea nymph! and as beautiful
as an angel!’*
"Softly,Tmy son,” said Mrs. Tren
holme, with mild dignity. “Run for
Dr. Hudson—perhaps she can be re
storea. \ ■
Ralph was off Instantly, but when he
returned with the doctor, the little girl
did net heed his aid; she was sitting up,
and looking around her with great,
wondering eyes, and a flush of scarlet
•M either cheek. But when they ques>
“Jjoned her, she conld give no satisfac
tory reply. She put her hand to her
m ahead, in a confused sort of way,
and gpid she could not remember. All
knowledge of the past was blotted out.
It was as, It it had never been. She
had forgotten her own name. She did
,not even remember that she had been
,.ea shipboard, and when they asked her
a*mfcb5r parents, she looked at them
Mrswh'a dazed sort of a. way that Mrs.
■yfreaholtai saw at once It was useless
'to&preas'tne matter. The severe shock
' her Mhvoas system had received from
, r|psalning so long in the water had
brought total oblivion of the past.
™rj*«r clothing was fine and costly, but
•^fherc were no trinkets by which any
slug to her parentage Could be obtained.
The only thing that might serve to
identify her was a minute scarlet cross,
just below the shoulder, on her arm—
feMtWVv.v >5-’
.. I
a mark that had evidently been pricked
Into her skin with some indelible sub
stance.
After a few weeks the wonder and
curiosity which this sole survivor of
the wreck had excited died away, and
Mrs. Trenholme, yielding to the earn
est solicitations of Ralph, decided to
adopt her, and rear her as her own.
The child was christened Marina, which
means from the sea, and turned over to
the care of Kate Lane, the nurse, who
still had the charge of Agnes, Mrs.
Trenholme’s little six years' old daugh
ter.
Marina was a beautiful child—you
would seldom see a beauty so faultless
as hers. Every day developed some
new charm. Her golden hair grew
more golden, her eyes bluer aud deeper,
and her smile rarer and sweeter. Oc
casionally, sho would break out into
snatches of song — old melodies —
strange to all who listened, something
sho must have learned in other lands,
and beneath sunnier skies.
The waif had found a good homo, all
the neighborhood said. So she had.
High Rock was the manor house of the
vicinity, the Trenholmes the wealthiest
old family In that part of the state.
’The lands belonging to the estate were
v/lde and fertile, the old house was a
romance in Itself, albeit a mo3t stately
one. It was built far out on a great
peak, closely overhanging the sea—a'
massive structure of gray stone, with
towers and gable windowa, and wide
piazzas.
Mr. rrenholme had held many offices
of public trust, and as a man and a
scholar had Btood very high. He had
.died suddenly, two years before the
opening of our story. Mrs. Trenholme
had truly and tenderly loved her hus
band. and natures like hers never for
get. Her best consolation she found in
the affection she'bore her children; and
Ralph and Agnes were worthy of all
the love she gave them. With very
little of their mother’s haughty pride,
they bad inherited all her beauty and
gentleness, while to Ralph, along with
his father’s fine intellect, had descended
his earnest heart, his strong affections,
and his almost chivalrous sense of hon
or. Ralph was eight years older than
Agnes. At fourteen he was a tall, hand
some boy, with a dark, clear com
i plexlon, brown eyes, and curling chest
nut hair. Agnes was of the less Intense
type, with delicately cut features, dark
hazel eyes, a pale complexion, and a
flush of scarlet on her sweet lips.
These were the children with whom
little Marina was thrown. They grew
up together. The girls loved each other
like sisters; indeed, there was little
chance for them to know the difference.
The children had but few playmates.
The neighborhood was not very select,
and Mrs.Trenholme was very particular.
Lynde Graham, the only child of a poor
fisherman that dwelt at the foot of the
Rock, was with them most frequently.
The proudest mother in the land would
have no objection to Lynde Graham as
a playmate for her children. He was
about Ralph’s age. a darling, noble
aouled boy.
And sometimes from Ireton Lodge—
the stately residence of Judge Ireton—
came Imogcne, his daughtor, to pay
little visits to the Trenholmes. Some
day Imogene Ireton would make hearts
ache; some day she would be absolutely
magnificent in her beauty. Even now
she was queenly. Hor complexion was
like the creamy petals of a lily; her
hair and eyes were black as ulght, and
at times her cheeks flushed like car
nations. and her voice rang out like
the music of silver bells. Her whole
bearing waa llko that of one who knows
she was born for conquest. She was
haughty, arrogant and selfish.
At sixteen, Ralph Trenholme left
home for college. He remained there
four years, returning home only for a
week or two at vacation time, and then
not always seeing Marina and Agnes,
who were at a boarding school for
young misses. After his graduation, he
made the European tour, and four years
elapsed before, bronzed and bearded, be
again set foot upon his native land.
Meanwhile, Lynde Graham had
fought a hard battle and come off
| conqueror. Men with eyes like his
I seldom fall to accomplish what they
I undertake with their whole souls. He
| had fitted htmaelf for college, taught
| to gain the money requisite to defray
! hla expenses, and just as Ralph arrived
home, Lynde Graham had come back
to the fisher’s cottage, with the diploma
from Harvard in his pocket. He had
graduated with the very highest hon
ors, and at once began studying medi
cine with Dr. Hudson, of Portlea.
CHAPTER II.
ELL, my son. what
do you think o(
your gift from the
sea?” said Mrs.
Trenho'.me.one day.
e few weeks after
her son’s return.
He was lying on
a lounge drawn up
before a south>-u
window, where the
late October sun
poured In its gold, his head ly
ing in her lap, her white fingers
hidden among hl3 chestnut curls. He
! looked up into her eyes, took her hand,
and pressed it slowly to his lips.
"I think, dear mother, that she Is the
ruuHt beautiful being I over saw. I
have seen the brunettes of Italy, the
fair-faced women of Circassia, the
languid Spaniards, with their eyes of
fire, and the oriental seraphs of the
Turk’s harem, but none like Marina.”
Something like a shadow fell over
the face of Mrs. Trenholme. He felt
the change in her voice, slight though
it was.
“Yes," she said, "Marina is beautiful.
I It were a pity that, she has no family
no name, even, save what we have
given her. Her parentage must ever. I
suppose, remain a secret. Indeed, my
son, I blush sometimes to think of it,
but perhaps she was the offspring of
shame, and thus abandoned. You will
remember, perhaps, that no female
bodies were ever washed up from the
wreck of the vessel. And it is not cus
tomary for children like her to bo put
on shipboard without a woman’s care."
An angry flush rose to Ralph’s check.
He sprang up quickly.
“Never, mother! you wrong her! I
would stake my life that Marina is
nobly born. We may never. In all
probability' we never shall, know tho
secret of her birth, but if we do, mark
me, we shall find her fully our equal!"
Mrs. Trenholme smiied at his earnest
ness, as she replied:
"To change the conversation, Imo
gene Ireton is coming here tomorrow,
for a visit of indefinite length. I think
Imogens will surprise you. You have
not seen her since you left home, I
think?”
I have not, but I have no doubt she
has developed wonderfully. Imogene
was always magnificent!”
“And now she has no peer. I have
never seen one who would compare with
her. But tomorrow you shall judge for
yourself.”
The conversation closed, and Ralph
thought no more of it, until Imogene
Iretoa burst upon him. He was amazed.
He had expected to see a very beautiful
woman, but, instead, he touched the
hand of a princess. Three years older
than Marina, at nineteen she was fully
developed, with a form that would have
driven a sculptor mad with ambition
to rival it. Sho was rather tall, with
that graceful, high-bred ease of man
ner that came to her so naturally, and
the voice that in her young girlhood had
been so sweet, wa3 now a breath of
musical Intoxication. Her complexion
was still rarely clear, the cheeks a little
flushed, tho mouth a line of scarlet, the
hair dark and lustrously splendid, and
the eyes!—such eyes are never seen
twice in the world at tho same time.
Ralph gazed into their depths, with a
strange feeling of bewilderment. She
fascinated him powerfully, and yet he
felt a sort of coldness creeping round
his heart—an almost Incipient shudder
shook him, as her soft hand fell like a
snowflake into his.
In the dally Intercourse which fol
lowed, the feeling somewhat wore away,
and though Miss Ircton, at the end of
a fortnight, had not succeeded In cap
turing the heir of Trenholme, It must
be admitted that she had Interested
him. Toward Lyndc Graham, who was
at the Rock almost daily, sho was cold
and reserved; she never forgot the dis
tance between Judge Ireton's heiress
and the son of a poor fisherman. And
yet, despite her coldness, which at
times was almost scorn, before she re
turned homo Lynde Graham had
learned to love her. Ho kept his un
fortunate secret to himself; he felt that
it would cause him nothing but pain
and sorrow, should it escape him by
word or deed.
The winter passed quietly. There was
an occasional pleasure party, but they
were by no means frequent, and It was
not until summer came that the real
round of pleasuring, which was des
tined to break the calm of the Rock for
the season, began.
(TO DB CONTIXUSD.I
TH3 WATCH ADJUSTER.
Ha In n Man Whmii D.<Kmte Work Hr*
quire* Iairge Ksperienre and Mach Skill.
Perhaps the most highly shilled and
best paid men In the watchmaking
business are the watch adjusters. One
adjuster in a great factory used to re
ceive $10,000 a year. The adjuster's
work is one of the important elements :
of cost in the making of a fine watch,
and a $10,000 adjustor should be com
petent to perfect any watch,whatever
its delicacy and cost. It is the business
of the adjuster to take a new wafeh and
carefully go over all its parts, fitting
them together so that the watch may
be regulated to keep time accurately to
the fraction of a minute a month. Reg
ulating is a very iifterent process from
adjusting and mu ih simpler. A watch
that cannot be regulated so as to keep
accurate time may need the hand of the
adjuster, and it it Is valuable
the owner will be advised to
have it adjusted. There are
watch adjusters in New York working
on their own account and earning very
comfortable incomes. To the adjuster
every watch that comes under his
hands gets to have a character of its
own. He knows every wheel and screw
and spindle that help to constitute the
watch. He knows its constitution as
a physician knows that of an old pa
tient. He can say what the watch needs
after an accident, and can advise as to
whether it is worth adjusting. No new
watch can be depended upon until it
has passed through the hands of the
adjuster, for however admirable the in
dividual parts of the works, their per
fect balance is to be obtained only by
such study and experiment as it is the
business of the adjuster to make. The
adjuster is a highly-skilled mechanic,
with wide knowledge of his business,
and the utmost deftness in its prosecu
tion.
Above Mannheim the Rhine is to be
made navigable as far as Slrasburg.
As F. canal will be inadequate, import
ant changes must bo made in the rh er
bed. i
DAIRY AND POULTRY.
I ■
INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR
j OUR RURAL READERS.
I —*—
Bow Successful Farmer* Operate This
Department of the Farm—A Few
Hint* aa to the Caro of Lira Stock
and Poultry.
i -
E HEAR THE RE
mdrks ao often that
they have become
common, “There is
no money in farm
ing. There is no
money in dairying.”
The men who give
vent to these decla
rations usually
speak from person
al experience; they j
find no money there. As a matter of |
fact, however, not all dairymen make
these complaints, else we might be in
clined to believe that the majority were
right. A New York farmer and dairy
man told me that the net receipts from
his place of 150 acres did not average
over J250 per year. Very true, and 1
know of plenty more whose net yearly
receipts do not average nearly that
sum. There are others who have less
to show than their hired help, after the
latter have been paid their monthly
wages. Dairying as a business is not
wholly to blame for this, neither are
the dairymen themselves.. The class
who made money must necessarily be
on a better track than those who didn’t,
but yet the entries are free and open to
all alike. No thoughtful man who
milks cows can disregard these facts.
If you attend the institutes this com
ing winter they will there be presented
to you In much more forcible shape
than I can do it, and I trust with fruit
ful results. It one does not possess
enough roots for all winter feeding, 1
think they can be fed to better ad
vantage after New Year’s than before.
Cows have not yet lost the effect of
green pasturage as they will by Feb
ruary, ‘and then succulent roots (not
withered by storing in hot cellars) will
prove decidedly beneficial. From per
sonal experience with root feeding to
cows covering several winters I am
impressed with their value. The best
results are obtained where they are fed
conservatively and as an adjunct to dry
fodder. I have never had any trouble
with turnip flavor in milk, complained
of by some, and have only seen it where
such roots were fed in large quanti
ties. It quickly becomes apparent then.
It is a grave mistake to feed these or
any other roots with dirt clinging to
them. While trimming off the small,
fine roots at the bottom of the turnip
or best will take most of the dirt, they
need washing before feeding. Like ap
ples, roots keep best at a low tempera
ture, which is best met by storage in
a properly constructed cave cellar.—
George E. Newell, in Am. Cultivator.
Cost of Keeping a Dairy.
, The following is an extract of an
article from the Agricultural Student
of the Ohio State University:
The following is a summary of the
receipts and expenditures of the Uni
versity dairy for the"year ending Dec.
31, 1894:
Pounds of milk produced.160,534
Receipts for milk....J3.842.75
Cost of food. 983.76
Cost of labor. 1,595.44
Total expenditures. 2,579.20
Net gain. 1,333.55
There was an average of about twen
ty-six cows actually in milk in the
dairy during the year. As cows are
ibought and sold, not the same twenty
six cows were in the herd throughout
[the year. There are generally, also,
three or four dry cows in the herd.
From the summary it will be seen
[that for the number of cows actually
in milk, 6,175 pounds of milk were
given per cow. The cost of food per
cow was $37.83, and the cost for labor
was $61.36, making a total expense per
cow in milk nearly $100. The labor,
however, included a considerable
amount of experimental work and also
the labor of taking care of dry cows,
heifers, calves and bulls. It also in
cludes the cost of retailing the milk.
.The cost for feed only relates to the
cows In milk.
; Assuming 8.6 pounds per gallon of
milk, the cost of food per gallon of
milk is 5.2 cents, the cost of labor per
gallon of milk, 8.5 cents, while the
average price recelved-for milk on this
basis was 20.5 cents. It will be seen
that the average cost of a gallon of
milk retailed to customers was 13.7
cents. The real cost, however, is
somewhat greater than this, because
.more than 8.6 pounds are required for
a gallon of milk when peddled to the
consumers.
| It is worthy of notice that the work
was all done by students, for which, it
will be seen, they received $1,595.44.
,The gross income from each cow ac
tually in milk was $147.80, the expense
$99.19, leaving a net income per cow of
$48.61, or for herd of twenty-six cows
a net gain of $1,333.55.
Thomas F. Hunt
Market Poultry.
; Market poultry experts, says the Poul
try Monthly, generally agree that the
most profitable way of conducting the
business is to combine egg farming
with broiler raising. In this way a
regular income can be maintained the
entire year. But Just how the combi
nation should be conducted all do not
| agree.
Some say make egg farming the prime
| object, and only hatch broilers when
| there Is no sale for eggs. We cannot
! exactly understand the logic, as there
j is constantly, every day in the year, a
! call for this article and the supply does
! not equal the demand. It must be that
1 the writer has refbrence to the retail
' trade.
; In some sections of the country eggs
take a decided drop as soon as spring
opens, while in other sections prices re
I main good until summer. Where con
tracts arc made at a certain figure for
the entire year, of course, It becomes an*
other matter.
To our liking, wo should say, sell
eggs as long as prices are good and
turn them into broilers when prices
decline. We should sell them so long
as the retail figure did not get below
twenty cents a dozen and begin incu
bation when that price was reached.
We believe that it will pay better to
turn eggs into carcasses than to sell
at less than twenty cents a dozen.
. Some writers claim Hint to produce
an egg costs one cent. This would make
their cost twelve cents a dozen and
anything over that would be clear
profit. They will sell eggs as long as
they can get eighteen cents or over
that. At eighteen cents they have fifty
per cent profit and they are content
with that.
Supposing that a dozen eggs cost
twelve cents and out of that dozen
only four chicks were raised up to a
marketable weight, and the total
cost, including price of eggs, would
be $1 for those four broilers, and they
brought $i a pair, the usual price in
New York market, there would be
even $1 profit. Of course, in some sec*
tions of the country broilers would not
bring $1 a pair, but then generally In
such localities feed is cheaper, which
would equalize it, and besides, we have
given a very low percentage of hatch
ing and rearing.
There is money In the broiler busi
ness, but it is a branch that must be
entered carefully, managed diligent
ly and perfectly understood, if suc
cess is the result. No amateur should
start this branch on a large scale.
He should begin at the very bottom
of the ladder and climb up. There
is so much to know. First, how to
run the incubator so that it will re
quire less responsibility and do best
work; second, how to brood the chicks
so that they will not become chilled
and die from bowel trouble; third, how
to feed so that they will attain the de
sired weight without being subject to
leg weakness and other troubles. All
these matters must be carefully stud
ied and watched. There is a big respon
sibility and the work requires "eternal
vigilance.” j
Egg farming is the easiest branch to
follow. Start with that and leave the
broiler department to be an adjunct . I
Various Foods.
Cheapness in grain is generally at the
expense of quality. Wholesome food
is as essential to the good health of the
flock as it is to human beings. Never
have food of any kind around after the
flock have been fed. Keep the flock with
good appetites. It is safer to see the
hens come for their, food quickly and
partake of it with a relish than to see
them indifferent about it. One is a sign
of good health, the other indicates the
indifferent specimen is out of condi
tion. Green food of some nature is
necessary for egg production in winter.
Cabbages, turnips and other vegetables
can be secured for the purpose. If the
flock can have access to a field of grow
ing rye or crimson clover In winter
they will find the proper requirements.
When fattening fowls for market corn
can be used in various forms. Made <
into mush and fed when cold is a good |
form. Mixing corn meal with scalding
water and boiled corn and the whole
grain are all used for the purpose of |
speedily fattening fowls. Boiled wheat j
is also good to feed with the corn. Cel
ery tops are the best green food to !
give fowls when fattening them.—Bal
timore Sun.
Aim In Hen Feeding*
The aim in feeding laying hens, to
induce continued egg production, j
should be to furnish as great a variety !
of food as possible, and when .the sea
son will not permit the hens to secure
plenty of Insect food, green-cut raw
bone should be given, as it is properly
recognized as the missing link in egg
production in winter. Char a cob of
corn in the oven occasionally, and let
the flock have it. Crushed oyster shells
or sharp gravel Aould always be ac
cessible to the hens. Water is a great
essential. All the foods named can be
given to growing chickens, and in addi
tion cracked corn. Chicks will require
more liberal feeding and oftener than
fowls, as they are making flesh, muscle,
bone and feathers at the same time,
thus requiring a good supply of varied
and nourishing diet. Wheat screen
ings may supply bulk, but a very little
nourishment. The man who depends on >
such feed for a flock won’t have a flock
very long to feed. Damaged grain of
any kind should never be fed to the
poultry.-*—Ex. _
Filled Cheese In. the South—A New
Tork commission man says: “The
whole South is fed on filled cheese now,
excepting those people who know what
pure cheese Is. The Southern popula
tion always ate more cheese and less
meat than we do, and we used to sell
great quantities of cheese in the South.
Where I used to sell large orders reg
ularly I now sell a few boxes at long
Intervals. Instead of pure cheese
Southern store keepers are now selling
filled cheese, except to those* customers
who insist upon having the pure arti
cle. I sell to one man just enough
cheese to supply his fine trade. The.rest
of his stock is filled cheese from the
Cook county people. To another I sell
a box now and then for his own use
only. He buys the filled cheese wholly
, for his stock, but he won’t oat it, and he
gets the cheese for his table here in
New Yor^, where he used to get all of
his stock. The grocers down there
know what they are buying, but their
customers in the greater number do not
know what they are getting.”—Ex.
Science or Not?—It is true that in
many cases farmers make the most of
their money on hogs, but more often is
it that they do not get the most possi
ble good out. of their business. They
have a slack way of feeding out corn to
them which spoils the profit. Feeding
for bone, size, muscle, substance and
quality is a science. After the “blood”
is procured so much depends upon feed
and care.—Ex.
FERRIED ON A POLE.
Kovel Feat Performed br aa Aged Lum
berman la Maine.
I Although John Cusack, exlumberman
. of Moose island, in Morc-hetid lake,
| Maine, is now 65 years of age, he has
; not lost his dexterity in executing some
| of the difficult feats in log walking that
| made his name famous on the west
j branch of the Penobscot for many
j years, says the New York Sun. He
recently made a bet with Sam Sanford,
the liveryman, that he would that af
ternoon cross the Piscataquis river with
no other support than a stick so small
1 that, rested upon his wrist, he could
held it out at arms’ length. The word
quickly passed abont the village of what
was about to be attempted, and at 4
o’clock the hour set for the trial, the
banks of the river above the mill dam
were lined with spectators. Mr. Cusack
appeared on time, carrying a long pike
pole, which was to serve him as balanc
ing pole and propeller, and a bundle
containing a checked gingham shirt and
drilling overalls, his substitute for pro
fessionable tights. Attired in his per
forming costume and in his stocking
feet, Mr. Cusack launched his stick,
pushing it out to deep water, and with
a quick spring landed on it at a point
about six feet from the butt, where he
perched as securely as a rope walker
upon a tight rope. The end of the stick
upon which he rested sank beneath his
weight until the water was breast high
to him, while the forward and smaller
end rose from the water, pointing like
a finger mark to the opposite shore.
Using the pikepole, held by both hands
in the middle a3 a double oar, the old
man, with a forward motion, scooped
himself along at no small rate toward
the further bank, while two men fol
lowed in a boat ready to rescue him in
case of mischance. There was no oc
casion for their services ir. his behalf.
The distance was two hundred yards,
but he did not slacken stroke as he
churned along, his head and shoulders
rising and falling above the chill black
waters with his swift strokes, while he
varied the monotony of the exercise by
an occasional whoop or shouted com
pliment to the ladies among the specta
tors upon the opposite shore. He
crossed the river in five minutes and
landed, fresh and smiling, amid the ap
plause and congratulations of the peo
ple gathered there. After his return to
the hotel he refused all stimulants ex
cept a comforting bowl of ginger tea
pressed upon him by the landlord, and
has since shown no ill effect whatever
from his recent exertion and the severe
exposure he Underwent. He has offered
to repeat the performance this week on
a similar wager.
't
SCENES IN HYDE PARK.
Shows Are Given on the Public Pleasure
Ground That Are In Bad Form. ^
It appears that the condition of Hydl
Park, in London, is disgraceful, as de-'l,
tailed by a correspondent in the London
Times, as follows: “It has come to be
a thing tacitly acquiesced In that the
broad graveled space in Hyde park op
posite the Marble arch shall be dally
given over to atheists, spouters of sedi
tion, et hoc genus omne. For a long
time past men have been in the habit of
giving recitations and a sort of vul
gar dramatic performance in the center
of a huge circle of admiring loafers,
protected and, apparently, patronized
by the police. These men, often three
in number, are provided with certain
stage accessories in the shape of paint,
red wigs, clowns’ dresses, and other
tawdry things of the kind, while their
vulgar sallies elicit roars of laughter
and subsequently pecuniary contribu
tions. This sort of thing being per
mitted, I can conceive of no equitable
reason why a nigger troupe, a German
band, a set of jugglers, or any other
class of street performers should not at
once take possession of part of the va
cant space and cater for’public favor.
Many of them—‘Punch and Judy,’ for
instance—would be infinitely less ob
jectionable than the tatterdemalions
who are now in possession."
A Clever Prince**.
The Princess Maud, whose engage
ment to her cousin. Prince Carl of Den
mark, has just been announced is the
favorite child of the Prince of Wales.
The prince speaks of her as “a good
chap,” and in the family circle and to
the intimate friends she is known as
“Harrie.” The princess is quite a de
termined young lady, as the following
little story will show: Some two or
three years ago the Wales girls were
somewhat restricted a.s to dress allow
ance, and Princess Maud grew so tired
of a certain costume that wouldn’t wear
out that one day she applied a match
and the garment came to a brilliant if
untimely end. Latterly the princesses
have dressed well. The bride-elect af
fects a certain "mannishness” of attire,
wnd has been known to sport a single
eyeglass with chic effect. The princess
is three years older than her affianced
husband.
1
Russian Despotism Is No More.
Over 25,000 persons bave been set
free from Russian prisons or have bad
their sentences lightened by the action
of the new czar’s proclamation »f last
November, and many more will be
dealt with as soon as their cases can be
examined. “The agents of the Bible
society have free passes on all crown
railways in Russia, free carriage for
their boxes of scriptures, free ingress
to steamers, trains and schools,” says
the correspondent of the New York
Observer, and they are treated with
urbanity and generosity by the high
officials.
The Rainiest Spot.
The rainiest spot in the United States
is at Nean Bay, Washington. The an
nual rainfall there is 123 inches. • In
New York city it is 45 inches.
