SHAIX KNOW.
When the mists have rolled in tpleador
From the beauty of the hills ,
t And the sunthlne , warm and tender/
Falls in splendor on the rills ,
We may read love's shining letter ,
In the rainbow of the spray.
Wo shall know each other bettor
When the mists have cleared away.
Wo shall know as we are known ,
Hever more to walk alone ,
In the dawning of the morning ,
When the mists have cleared away.
If TYO err in human blindness ,
And forget that we are dust ,
If we-mtes the laws of kindness ,
When we struggle to be Just ,
Snowy-wlngs-ot peace shall cover
All the pain that clouds our way ,
Whenthe weary watch is over ,
And tho. mists have cleared away.
WeflhallJcnow as we are known ,
Never more to walk alone ,
In the dawning or the morning ,
When the mists have cleared away.
When the silvery mists have veiled us
From the faces of our own
Oft we deem their love has failed us ,
And we tread our path alone ;
We should see them near and truly ,
We should trust them day by day ,
I Neither love nor blame unduly ,
If the mists have cleared away.
"We shall know as we are known ,
Never more to walk alone ,
In the dawoing of the morning ,
When the mists have'cleared away.
When the mists have risen abovenis ,
As our Father knows His own ,
Face to face with those that love us ,
We shall know as we are known.
Love , beyond the orient meadows
Floats tie gol'den fringe of day :
Heart to heart we hide the shadows ,
Till the mists have cleared away.
We shall know as we are known ,
Never more to walk alone ,
When the day of light Is dawning ,
And the mists have cleared away.
San Francisco Call.
AN EASTER EILY.
I had seen her morning after mbrn-
% ing.at her stand in the French market
in New Orleans. A girl of about four
teen , whose bright , brunette beauty
would have attracted the attention of
any stranger. She was large for her
age , and the charming , -speaking- face
bore at times all the thoughtfulness of
a woman , mingled with the innocence
of early childhood ,
I had passed the roses and camellias ,
the jessamines and magnolias , all that
wealth of bloom and color which
makes the Freneh market such a gorge
ous picture , when I found myself beside
Blanche's basket of violets and orange
blossoms. Nothing else no other in
truding color in the soft purple and
white bouquets which sLe had formed
with exquisite taste , and in a variety of
'forms. Some were flat , some round ,
others cup-shaped and pyramidal , but
in all there was a grace and tasteful
arrangement which could be found in
no other stall in the market.-
By dint of frequent pauses at her
stand and daily purchases , the 'flower-
girl and I became the best of friends.
There was always a bouquet set aside
for me of the finest and freshest flow
ers , even if I was hours behind my
usual time. And at last it seemed to
be understood that I was never to pass
so good that they help me in every way ;
for they know I can attend , to but one
thing at a time. "
I smiled at-Blanche's "large busi
ness" ; but large or small , my little
flower-girl evidently thought "herself
exceptionally prosperous , and was the
happiest of the happy.
"Where do you live , Blanche ? " was-
my next question.
"Oh , so far ! on the Bayou Bridge
road. 1 own my place. It was left
me by my mother" this with an in
describable air of importance "and
my brother and sister help to work it.
. I have a cow , too , and such milk- and
cream ! "
"I would like to- taste your milk , " I
said , smiling at her. . - - . . .
The grave , business-like look came
back tcTthe laughing face.
"If madame will honor me by com
ing to my house some day. It is like a
nest though we are not'quite birds.
Next week I shall have some strawber
ries , and madame must come then and
taste them. "
If it had been a princess graciously
condescending from her high estate ,
there could not have been more digni
fied courtesy than belonged to the man
ner of my calico-garbed little friend.
So it was then and there agreed that on
the following Wednesday I was to visit
"Le Nid" ( the nest ) , as Blanche called
her home.
Wednesday was a bright day , and
noon found it e in the cars with Blanche
beside me , the gravity all gone from
her eyes , and her lovely face dimpling
and sparkling at the novel excitement
of carrying a guest to her own home
with her.
Le Nid was a funny little place , with
a small , high house , built very much
like a pigeon house. The house itself
was covered with a mass of white
climbing roses , which made it look like
A large bouquet. The yard in front was
filled with orange and Japan plum
trees , and the Bides and , back seemed
devoted to lowers , vegetables and small
- - - * " - - ' ' -
w * . . * _ r'v 'TT- |
fruit. Not an inch of ground was left
unoccupied ; and the cultivation was
wonderful , considering that it was done
by three children , the eldest only four *
teen.
teen."Take
"Take care of the steps , madame.
They are a little difficult. "
As the said steps were built up like a
ladder and "very rickety , I thought that
to call them a little difficult was a very
mild way of describing them. But I
scrambled up , .and found myself in a
pleasant little porch , scrubbed as clean
as hands conla scrub it , and a rocking
chair pulled under the thickest festoons
of the white roses.
"You will sit here in the shade , "
said Blanche , drawing me to the chair ,
"whilste Elodie apd Igather the straw
berries. Elodie ! Elodie , come .here ,
you and Jean ! "
There was a shout of delight as the
two children heard their sister's yoice
and came flying up. Both Elodie and
Jean were decidedly of the peasant type ,
sturdy-limbed and with rather heavy
faces , a marked contrast to the beau
tiful , intelligent girl who stood beside
me.
me.She , however , saw no deficiency in
"her children , " as she calle'd them ,
and her eyes sparkled with pride as
she told me of Jean's industry and
Eloilie's neatness , and of her dairy
work. t
"Now we will leave' madame' and
gather the fruit. I have drawn your
chair under my favorite"rose. . My poor
mother brought it from Provence she
was Provencal and , dhe nursed and
loved it as if it was a child. I always
wear one of those roses when they are
in bloom , for they seem part of my
mother. If I marry , my * couronne de
noce' ( marriage wreath ) shall be made
of them. But if God wills that I shall
die young , then my 'couronne de mort'
( death wreath ) shall also be of these
roses. Perhaps I may die in the win
ter when none are in bloom , but I hope
not. "
"Her death-wreath ! " I found my
self softly repeating the girl's" words
over and over as 1 watched her flitting
about among the strawberry beds.
Strange words they seemed coming-
from one whose exuberant vitality was
so marked. A full , over-running meas
ure of life seemed given to those lithe ,
active limbs , that glowing face and
happy , joyous voice.
1 did not have to wait long for my
fruit. A bowl piled up with the largest
and reddest of strawberries , well sugared -
gared , and filled to the brim with yel
low cream , was soon before me.
Blanche was a charming hostess. By
some right divine she moved and spoke
like a lady , and there wus no vulgar
fussiness in the manner she served me.
I really ate more than prudence
counselled , for I could not relnsi : to
gra'ify the look of delight with which
she watched my enjoyment nf her
treat. -
But when 1 had finished , Blanche ,
with the grave look on her face -again
her business look set to work to
clear the table wild put things to
rights" .
"The children can do it , " she said ;
"but then they are heedless , and do
not sweep as well as I would wish.-
They will learn in time. "
"How troublesome it must be to *
have such-a , charge , " I answered ,
thoughtlessly ; "jind at'your age too. " .
"Troublesome" ! * ' " In the > extremity
of her astonishment Blanche stood with
her broom poisejk-iu' the air. "Why ,
what should I' do. without them , all
-ttk ihtfieworld ? Ah ! Gpdisvery
pod to give me their help my pre-
otis children ! " She raised her eyes
iverently as she spoke.
f'Only think , madame ! He gives me
1th and strength and love of work
' the best of neighbors , and best of
my mother's Bible. Does madame
w that my parents were bothHugue-
3 , and my mother died holding her
le in her hand ? I read in it every
to my children , and they know all
stories in it. Ah ! we are as happy
he birds here in our nest ! "
'God keep you so , my child ! " I an-
ired , feeling rebuked to my inmost
.1 *
hen , a beautiful boquet had been
e for me , ic was time to go.
nche and her "children" aocompan-
me to the cars , and the last glimpse
ad of my little flower-girl showed
her bright hair blown. , by the wind
aoout her lovely sparkling face.
This spring I retur-ned to the city.
It was just a year since my last visit
and the very day after my arrival found
me in the French Market. I went to
the place where my little friend had
kept her stall , but she was -nowhere to
be seen. A stout , red-faced Alsatian
vegetable dealer , whom .Blanche had
often pointed out to me as one of her
food friends , sat in her place. She
new him instantly.
' "Ah ! here Is'poor Blanche's mad
am ! " she cried. "Did you know that
the poor lamb is dying ? yes , dying ? "
I stood dumb and paralyzed , unable
even to ask a question.
"Ye , I see madame is shocked.
Blanche had scarlet fever this winter ,
and it has left her in a consumption , so
the doctor says. Ah ! we had the best
of doctors for her. We are very poor ,
madame , but there is not one of us who
would not have worked our fingers to
the bone for our bright little bird. We
shall never see her in her old place
again. Never ! never ! "
I hardly knew how I made my way
out of the market. I did not realize
the terrible news ; no , not even when I
found myself in the Bayou Bridge cars ,
speeding to the quaint little House 1
had seen so often in memory.
We stopped at the very spot where I
had last seen the beautiful face smiling
at me. The house , as I approached it ,
looked as usual. The white rose was
in its full wealth of bloom , but it struck
me that it was more unpruned and ran
more wildly than at my Jast visit.
I saw a figure sitting on the porch
as I mounted the stairs , but I had to
stand before it and look into the sweet ,
kind eyes before I could believe that
bloodless phantom was really iny
Blanche. A gleam of joy leaped into
those eyes as they rested on me. She
held out her wasted , trembling hands.
"Ah ! it is my good madame I have
thought of so often ! So you have
come to see me , my friend , before I go
away ? "
"Go away ? " I repeated , question-
ingly. '
"Yes. Does not madame see I am
going on a journey , which will take
me far away from hero ? Ah ! I have
been very sick and tired -for many ,
many months ; but it will be all right
when I meet my mother up there. "
I could not restrain my tears. She
laid her hot little hand in mine.
"Why does madam cry forme ? It
would have been hard had God called
me when I was so well and strong ; but
now every breath hurts me so that it
will be better for me to go. "
There was silence between us for a
lone time. At last she said
1 shall never more sell Easter roses
or lilies in the market as I used to do.
Does madame think there are trees and
flowers in heaven ? I know what the
Bible says about the Tree of Life ; but
will there be trees like those on earth ?
If the earth brings a resurrection of the
flowers , will not heaven also ? "
I tried to explain to her the perfect
life , the flawless fruitage of the Eternal
Garden. I did my best to lift her in
nocent thoughts up to those high
regions of eternity , where the flowers
never fade , but merge into new growths ,
each more beautiful , more perfect , than
those which preceded itt Her eyes
grew dreamy with these new thoughts.
"I asked , " she said , "because you
know , madame , I am so simple , so ig
norant , that all I know'is to tend'flow
ers and fruit. Perhaps the blessed
Lord will give-me a little' corner in His
garden , that I may work. But my
mother , my beautiful young mother ,
who has been there so long , will tell me
what to do.
"AhI she was so good , my mother !
My father died when I was quite young
before Elodie was born ; but he was
good , too. " She-paused , , exhausted ,
and a terrible fit of coughing shook her
feeble frame.
"Ah ! my children are not back yet , "
she said , when it ceased.
"I sent them out for a walk. They
have nursed me day and night , and
they look quite pale. Oh , such blessed
children they are ! so patient , so watch
ful ! never leaving me unless 'I 'make
them. "
y&She dozed a little in her chair after
this , then wakened with a start.
"Have they not come yet ? I want to
see them so much ! "
I looked , but could see nothing of the
children.
"Not that I fear for them , " she con
tinued. "They will have the nest and
the flowers and fruit and the birds and
all my kind , good friends. They will
have my Bible , too , " pointing the
little worn French Bible which lay on
her lap ; "but above all , they will have
Gid to care for them. No , madame , I
do not fear to leave my children. "
"How they will miss you ! " I could
hardly speak , for the tears would come.
"Yes , they will miss me. " Her voice
was very culm. "Every year they will
put their wreath of 'immortelles' on my
grave. I tell them they must bring
bunches of violets 'and those roses , "
pointing to the flowers , overhestd-
"Does madame see how' beautifully
they bloom , thiff" ' spring ! JMy-burial
wreath is ready' fpr me , and. Iwant
them to put a few" in my hand. When
my mother meets me , I wish her to rec-
pgnize her favorite roses. "
Another fitnf coughing , and this
timea little stream of blood trickled
from her lips.
With the help of the weeping chil
dren , who had returned , I carried
Blanche to her bed. I did not leave
her again that evening no , not until
the tired , tender eyes were hidden by
the white lids , and the wasted hands ,
holding the roses , were folded over the
pulseless breast.
My blessed little flower girl ! Methinks -
thinks she has carried the aroma of
those Provence roses straight up to the
steps of the great white throna. In
God's great kingdom my bird , which
has fled from her nest , has found a ref
uge where her steadfast , innocent faith
will develop the glorious life of which
only dim possibilities reach us here.
' '
'A
rose
She blest us ; but , as bless the roses ,
A morning's swift , brief space. "
The blooming Easters come and go.
She is no longer in the flower market.
Other hands deal in Easter roses and
lilies. But every Easter i lay a white
flower on her grave , and I love to re
call her memory , and to dream of her
as bne of the flowers in the immortal
gardens , and to speak of her as my
Easter Ijly [ Youth's Companion.
Dazed by Deciphering.
Evansvlllo Argns.
"Did you ever hear of those men
who have a mania for reading symbolic
writing , secret signs and the" like ? "
said a journalist to us the other day.
"Are you one ? " we asked.
"I am. To me a hieroglyphical nd.
in a newspaper is like a glass of whis
ky to a chronic drunkard. I cannot
rest till I have deciphered it. "
"And do you often succeed ? "
"Generally , but the other day I got
hold of a poser. Coming down from
the office I picked up a letter , the con
tents of which ran :
Dear Nettie : The order is : K 3 , o ,
n , o , k 3 , o , n , purl 1 , n , purl 1 , u ,
purl 1 , n , o , k 3 , o , k 2 , o , n , purl 1.
Eliza.
"This puzzled my brains , I can tell
you. It was evidently something crim
inal. Written by a woman , too. Hour
after hour I sat over the thing till its
mystic figures were burned into my
brain. I transposed them into every
shape of vowel and consonant. The
strange signs danced before my eyes
until my head reeled and ached. "
"Did you find it out at last ? "
"Last night my wife was turning out
my vest pockets for looose change.
'Why , Will,1 she said , 'where on earth
did you get this direction for a pattern
of lace insertion ? It must be very
pretty. ' I tell you it was rough. Didn't
think I could bo such a soft-headed
fool. Tata ! "
Whales were eaten by persons of the
upper class in Europe as late at least
us the latter part of the thirteenth cen
tury. The tail and tongue dressed
with peas or roasted were prized as
choice delicacies. The Princess Elea
nor de Montford paid , in 1266 , the
sum of 243. for " 100 pieces of whale"
to be used as food in her household.
DISCONTENT.
Two boats rocked on the river ,
In the shadow of leaf and tree ;
One WAS in love .with the harbor ;
One was In love with the sea.
The one that loved the harbor
The winds of fate outbore ,
But held the other , longing ,
Forever against the shore.
The one that rests on the river.
In the shadow of leaf and tree ,
With wistful eyes looks ever
To the one far-out at sea.
The one that rides the billow ,
Though sailing fair and fleet ,
Looks hack to the peaceful'rlver ,
To the harbors safe and sweet.
One frets against the quiet
Of the moss-grown shaded shore ;
One sighs that it may enter
That harbor never more.
One wearies of the dangers
Of the tempest's rage and wall ;
One dreams , amid the lilies ,
Of a far-off snowy sail.
Of all tint life can teach us
There's naught BO true as this :
The winds of fate blow ever ,
But ever blow amiss.
NO FAITH IN BANES.
So He Kept 8100,000 t-jlug Around
1.0080. '
New York Bap.
Isaac Steele , an aged farmer living
near Petrolia , Pa. , made § 100,000 from
oil that was found on his farm a few
years ago. Having no faith in banks it
has been his persistent custom to keen
from $80,000 to $100OQO ; in bank notes
stowed away in different places about
his house. Five or six years ago he
had $100,000 locked up in a number of
boxes. One day he was examining his
treasure and found it damp and mil
dewed and moldy. He took the notes
from the boxes and spread them out in
afield to dry in the "sun. This became
noised about the neighborhood , and
people flocked from all directions to see
the novel spectacle of a fortune scat
tered about. For two days the money
was thus exposed , guarded by the old
farmer , his wife , daughter and hired
man. It was then returned to its hiding
places in the house.
Three nights afterward Steele woke
up and found three men in his room.
They were all masked. They seized
the old man and his wife and bound
and gagged them. While searching
for money about the house they were
frightened , by the appearance of Steele's
hired man , who had been absent in
Petrolia. The robbers fled , having se
cured $1,000. This experience failed
to induce Steele to trust his money out
of his house. One night in April , 1881 ,
about midnight , three masked men
broke into Steele's house again.
Mrs. Steele was knocked uncon
scious by a blow-from one of the rob
bers , who drove the hired man into a
bedroom at the point of a pistol. Both
.Steele and his daughter were soon over
come , but not before the masks had
been torn from the faces of two of the
men , who proved to be Jim James and
William Macdonald , well-known resi
dents of the neighborhood. The noise
made at Steele's house during the
struggle aroused a neighboring family ,
and tne robbers fled. The third was
not recognized. James and Mcdonald
were arrested next day , and were sen
tenced to state prison for five years.
Every one supposed that Steele would
put his wealth in a place of safety after
the second warning he had received ,
but he stubbornly refused to do so.
Only a few days ago a neighbor who
called at the house found Steele sitting
in the kitchen , while the floor , table
and. chairs were covered with bank
notes , which the old farmer was once
more drying. There were 815,000 in
the lot. An oil operator from the
lower country brought the news here
on Saturday that Steele's house had
been visited by masked burglars on
Thursday night and they succeeded in
getting away with $5,000 before they
were forced to fly from the house by
approaching neighbors. They bound
the family as usual , and escaped de
tection. It is said that Steele has at
last decided to put his money where it
will be safe.
A Dying Boy's Story.
Philadelphia Press.
A youthful soldier had a presentiment
that he should die on a certain day of
the year , because it was the anniver
sary of the drowning of his sister. He
was taken sick , and as the day drew
near he grew rapidly worse. The doc
tor and nurse pooh-poohed his fears as
absurd , but he said all the same he
should die on a certain night. The
day came and he was very low. About
8 o'clock hem called a comrade to bis
m
bedside and s'aid :
"It is almost time , Billy. Good-bye.
In an hour I shall be with my sister ,
and we will be looking at our mother. "
"Nonsense , " said his comrade. "If
you were with your dead sister how
could you be looking at your mother
who is"living and well ? "
"It's a strange story , " he said feebly ,
"but if you don't mind it 1 will tell it
to you ; it will make the time shorter. "
"It was three years asjo my sister
Jessie was drowned at 9 o'clock at
night. She was engaged to be mar
ried , and on her birthday , three months
before her wedding , mother gave us all
a party. On the evening of that party
mother cried bitterly because it was the
last birthday she would have sister with
us. My sister ran to her , and , throw
ing her arms about mother's neck , said :
" 'Never mind , dear mother , I will be
with you always on my birthday ,
whether dead or alive. ' It was a rash
speech , and our good folks shook their
heads gravely , for they did not like it.
"We are Scotch people , you know ,
and very superstitious. People said
Jessie had bound herself body and
soul. " He paused , exhausted , and ,
having rested a little , preceded more
slowly : "My sister was married and
she and her husband went away to livo.
In a few months we heard she had boon
drowned while crossing a swollen
stream in a nuggy with nor husband.
It was a bitter bio w to all of us. Mother
fretted a good deal , and father , al
though he said nothing , looked old and
haggard , and we * all knew ho was
grieving his heart for sister. The an
niversary of sUter's birthday drew near ,
and/mother fretted more than ever and
father looked older and older. The
night came , and we knew sister would
keep her promise and be there. We
sat in the room , waiting for the first
sound of her footsteps. I heard her
fust coming up the walk , and the water
was running from her garments. She
came to the open window and looked
in. It was only for a moment , and
then she was gone , and we knew we
should see her no more for u year.
Lost year she came again , and to-night
she will come to our old homo and look
in at the window , and mother will be
watching for her. "
He closed his eyes and lay still for so
long his comrade thought ho was dead ,
but at last ho opened them again , and
continued :
"When I enlisted it almost broke
poor mother's heart. On the day I left
her I told her I would come back to her
in the spirit. She said I never would
return. I knew I should die somehow ,
and something told me I should perish
on the same day of the year and at the
same hour that sister had died. It's
almost time , " he said , "and I soon
must go. Don't you hear her coming
and the water dripping from her dress ?
See , she is putting roses in her hair.
How cold and clammy her hand is , and
it grows dark " With these words
he raised up a little , hold out his hands
and fell back dead.
Poisonous Plants.
There are many plants whose leaves ,
flowers and seeds contain virulent poi
sons , which every one should know , seas
as to avoid , them and keep children
'from them. Buttercups possess a pois
onous property which disappears who'n
the flowers are dried in hay , no cow
will feed upon them while in blossom.
So caustic are the petals , that they will
sometimes inflame the , skin of tender
fingers. Every child should be cau-
.tioned against eating them ; indeed , it
is desirable to caution children about
tasting the petals of any flower , or put
ting leaves into their mouths , except
those know to be harmless. The oleander - .
ander contains a deadly poison in its
leaves and flowers , and is said to be a
dangerous plant for the parlor or din
ing room. The flower and berries of
the wild briony possess a powerful pur
gative , and the red berries , which at
tract children , have proved fatal. The
seed of the laburnum and catalpa trees
should be kept from children ; and there
is a poisonous property in their bark.
The seeds of the yellow and of the
rough podded vetches will produce
nausea and severe headache. Fool's
parsley has tuberous roots-which have
been mistaken for turnips , and pro
duced a fatal effect an hour after they
were eaten.
Meadow hemlock is said to be the
hemlock which Socrates drank ; it kills
by its intense action upon the nerves ,
producing complete insensibility and
palsy of the arms and legs , and is a
most dangerous drug except in skilful
hands. In August it is found in every
field , by seashore and near mountain
tops , in full bloom , and ladies and chil
dren gather its clusters of tiny white
flowers in quantities , without the
least idea of their poisonous qualities.
The water hemlock , or cow-bane , re
sembles parsnips , and has been eaten
for them with deadly effects. The
water-dropwort resembles celery when
not in flower , and its roots are also
similar to those of the parsnip , but
they contain a virulent poison , pro
ducing convulsions which end in death
in a short time. The fino-'ieaved water-
dropwort and the common dropwort
are also dangerous weeds. The bulbs
of the daffodil were once mistaken lor
leeks and boiled in soup , with disastrous
effects , making the whole household in
tensely nauseated , and the children did
not recover from their effects for sev
eral days.
Peculiarities of Hand-shaking.
London World.
The different modes of shaking
hands will delineate human character
better than any other single act can do ,
and many peculiarities of different per
sons naj be noted in the performance
of this social custom. Who would ex
pect to get a handsome donation or
any donation at all from a man who
will ] give two fingers to be shaken , and
keeps the others bent as upon an "itch
ing palmb" The hand coldly held out
to be shaken and drawn away again as
soon as it decently may be , indicates a
cold , selfish character , while the hand
which seeks yours cordially , and un
willingly relinquishes its warm clasp ,
gives token of a warm disposition , and
of a heart full of sympathy for human
ity.
ity.How
How much that is in the heart can be
made to express itself through the
agency of the fingers ! "Who , having
once experienced it , has ever forgotten
the feeling conveyed by the eloquent
pressure of the hand from a dying
friend when the tongue has ceased to
speak ? A right hearty grasp of the
hand indicates warmth and ardor , while
a soft , lax touch , without a grasp , in
dicates the opposite characteristics-
the grasp of persons with large hearted
generous minds , there is a "whole
soul" expression most refreshing and
acceptable to kindred spirits , but when
a man presents you with a few cold ,
clammy lifeless fingers , feeling very
much like a dead fish , and expects you
to do all the shaking , it will naturally
make you think of the hospital and other
cheerful things.
Contrary to this style , there is a habit
among the rude class of giving your
hand a crushing grasp , which is often
most painful. In thes"e cases there may
be great kindness and a "strong" at-
fection , but itis as crude as it is hearty.
If the grasp is warm , ardent and vig
orous , so is the disposition. If it is
cool , formal , and without emotion , so
w the character. If it is magnetic and
animating , the disposition is the same.
As .we shake" hands so we feel , so we
are.
Mr. Bancroft , the historian , is a fre
quent companion of the president in
life leisure hours.
;
Comraom Flesr th Beat.
N. 7. Ban.
Those intelligent persons who are
now habitually rasping their digestive
tracts by eating branny fooda on ac
count of the gluten supposed" tx > be
found only in the fourth layer of the
of the grain , may bo interested to learn
of the investigations of Dr. N. ' A. IJan-
dolph , of Philadelphia , whjoh offer
food for reflection , requiring no mental
pepsin to aid digestion. The manufac-
lures of specially prepared foods have
always maintained , on good , scientific
authority , that the gluten of wheat refa
sided only in the cortical cells of the
grain , the body of the grain-being com
posed almost wholly of starch. Up to
now , microscopical examination has
upheld this dogma , although Prof.
Richardson , of Philadelphia , and Prof.
Leeds , of Hoboken , have pointed out /
that such was not the case.
Dr. Randolph now demonstrates that
the wheat grain itself possesses a large
amount of gluten , which forms a sort .
of network around the starch. It ap
pears that the gluten of this central
portion was always masked by the large
number of starch grains , and thus , Dr.
Randolph declares , it escaped
observation. By dissolving out the
starch grains a network of gluten
was found by Dr. Randolph ,
which may be demonstrated in more
than one way. In fact , the starch
grains mav be said to lie in a bed of
gluten. It is , therefore , satisfactory to
know that those who desire this highly
important nitrogenous element of iood
will find it in considerable quantities in
the ordinary prepared flour.
But this is not all. Dr. Randolph
has made experiments to discover
whether the gluten which undoubtedly
exists in the external covering of the
grain was capable of serving as food to
man. The result showed that even af
ter careful cooking , the hard , dense , ) \
cellulose walls which enclosed the /I
gluten were unaffected by the digestive \ |
juices , exhibiting no change after pro
longed maceration at the temperature
of tne human digestive tract. The cells
were also found to be unaffected by
maceration for thirty days in liquor
pptassa. Even immersion in strong
nitric acid for several days practically
had no effect upon them.
Such being the case , the use of branny , i
foods for the purpose of obtaining glu- /g
ten appears to be a fallacy and worse / I
than a blunder ; for , in rejecting fine
wheaten flour , which really contains
gluten in a form easily digested , refuse
product is accepted which yields up no
part of its gluten , but rasps the diges
tive tract , clogs the stomach with indi
gestible trash , and lays a future of dys
pepsia.
Mrs. Turnout's Book.
Washington , letter.
. Alrs.'iJessie Benton-Fremont , wife of
Gen. John C. Fremont , is one of the
best known and moat popular women
in this country. Nearly every winter
she pays a visit to Washington , whera
every one who is worth knowing pays
her the most : > iarked attention. She is
in Washington now , and will remain
here for several weeks yet. I called
upon Mrs. Fremont yesterday morning ,
and was received by her while she wus
engaged in receiving a call from the
favorite neice of her father , the great ,
Benton , with her vivacious daughter- !
in-l.-iw at her right. '
She is now engaged in writing a
book , covering her reminiscences of
the political periods of Benton and
Fremont with notes up to the present
day , for her past relations with promi
nent political leaders gives her to-day
a footing with the leaders of the pres
ent , which her knowledge of politics
and social powers enable her to easily
maintain.
"What will be the title of your book ,
Mrs. Fremont ? " I asked.
"Oh , I can hardly say as yet. If I
could borrow a French title I should
prefer to call it 'My Memoirs. ' 1 in
tend to give a fireside study of the po
litical life of my time. I hope to make
it something better than a mere record
of personal gossip and reminiscence.
You know I was with my father when
he was writing his 'Thirty Years in the
United States Senate , ' and was the con
fidant of many of his private papers.
He made his 'Thirty Years' book much
more comprehensive than he would if
he had been preparing it simply for
public men. But he intended it should
be a political bible ; it was especially
prepared for the instruction of young
men just entering politics. This book
has certainly reached the place in pub
lic consideration for which it was orig
inally intended. "
Mrs. Fremont then said : "I think
there is one thing lacking in the his
tory of our times that adds such full
ness and completeness to French his
torical literature , and that is the lack
of recording the personal observation
and gossip of a period which is so
fully covered in French by the memoirs
of noted people. "
The Safe Part of a Car.
Merchant Traveler.
A party ol merchant travelers in a
passenger coach were talking over their
traveling experience and the danger of
accidents , and finally the question
arose as to the tafest part of the car.
Failing to settle the question among
themselves , they called up the conduc
tor , and one of them asked him : "Con
ductor , we have been discussing the
matter of the safest part of the car ,
and want to know vour opinion. "
"Want to know the safest part , eh ? "
replied the conductor. "Yes , that's
it. " "Well , " continued the conductor ,
borrowing a chew of tobacco and look
ing disappointed because he did not set
a cigar , "I've been on the road for "fif
teen years , and I have been turned
over embankments , busted up in tun
nels , dumped off of bridge ? , telescoped
in collisions , blown off the track by
cyclones , run into open switches , and
had other pleasant incidental diver-
ttsements of kindred nature , and I
should say , gentlemen ; the sifest part
of the car was that part which hap
pened , to be in the shop for repairs at
the time of the accident. "
Lately at a , dinner given by some ho-
mcepathic doctors in Paris , after the
memory of Hahnemann had been
toasted and the health of various celeb
rities drunk , Alphonse Karr was asked
to propose a toast. "Your patients ,
gentlemen , " he said.
