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About The Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 18, 1885)
Corvallis Weekly Gazette. GAZETTE PUBLISHING HOUSE, Pubs. CORVALLIS, OREGON' The decrease of the national debt during the month of October.as shown by the treasury statement was $13, 276,774.18. According to a report of the regis ter of the treasury, of tbe $1,071, 460, 202 United States registered bonds only $11,927,900 are held abroad. The periodical report that the Pan ama Canal will never be built and that M. de Lesseps is bankrupt comes over the wires from New York, but all the while the canal is progressing and its completion nearer at hand. These reports are set alloat by speculators who wish to operate on Congress for an appropriation to other canal schemes. Congress, according to law, meets on the first Monday in December. Decem ber will come in on Tuesday this year, the first Monday in the month falling consequently on the 7th, which will make the vacation between the two congresses the longest possible under the constitution. It is not a matter of wonder that the Washington board ing houses are in favor of continuous sessions. A long vacation is one of the things most to be dreaded in Washington, though the rest of the country experiences no regret. In the matter of the Marine Bank of New York, and the firm of Grant & Ward, a new suggestion has been made by United States District Attorney Dorsheimer, which is, that under the statute of New York, the immense sums paid as bonuses by Ward and his associates to those who loaned them money can be recovered. There is no question as to the law; the stat ute is explicit. He estimates that nearly seven million dollars can be re couped. This is an enormous amount; considered as a usurious account, but there is no question as to the fact ol the opinion or statement of it by the District Attorney. In a recent paper before a scientific society abroad Prof. 0. C. Marsh, the New Haven paleontologist, made the remarkable statement that the size ol the brain in the extinct animals de cided the condition of the survival oi failure in the race struggle. Those ol the same class who had the largest brains were most successful in the race of life. This confirms, if it needed con firmation, the natural law of the sur vival of the fittest to the extent thai the fittest to survive in the great struggles of nature are those who have the most brain power. It is not so much physical as mental strength that determines the existence of both an imals and men. The closing of mills and workshops consequent upon the prevalence of th( smallpox epidemic in Montreal has created great suffering among the pop nlation of that unfortunate city. II is said this stagnation in business is costing Montreal $3,000 a day for the support of its poor, and that the ex penditure is likely to run up into the millions. One result of this poverty and distress is to drive large bodies of French Canadian paupers over into the United States. Drs. Cohn and Watson, of the New Hampshire board of health, have investigated the immigration of paupers from Mon treal, and say that within the past month no less than six hundred have landed in the city of Manchester alone. They invade the mill towns, and every where offer to work for much lower wages than are usually paid American operatives. It is believed that a large exodus will occur during the coming winter, and how to lawfully prevent it is a question with the New Hampshire authorities. ! LITTLE THINGS. A f'mple rhyme, a childish grief, A blossom on a lover's tomb, A bud expanding into leaf. A dewdrop in a clover bloom; How sweet, hovr sad, how wondrous fair, How soon forgot, how quick to fade! Tbe 6onsr, the I loom, the infant care, Puss like the play of sun and shade; But in their passage quicken thought, As sunbeams melt on field and plain And leave their slightest impress wrought In blooming grass and ripening grain, And though etch individual form Grows indistinct, its glow remains, A halo round us in tbe storm, A genial warmth that fills our ve'ns. The critic comes with awful frown To crusti the poe', like a gnat; Frosts nip the teuder b'ossoms down, And childish griefs, for this and that, Are merged In toi row's large estate, That wideni round our frostel heads; And yet the varied web of fate Is woven of such slender threads. The litt'e things of t:meare most Secure of influence, prom se, power: The flying seed, the inject host, Dissolving dew and transient shower; They multiply, build up, tear down, And write their excellence and grace On arid waste and mountain brown, 1 ill nought is bare nor common-place. Eo little murmurs, joined in song. Light bubbles ti at in music break When youth is glad and days nre long In low, soft ecetacies, may wake Tbe living choids of that sweet lyre Which tremb es in the human heart And prompts the .genius to aspire, Tbe man to act a noble part. Then, fcorner' spare the little things! From atoms all the worlds are wrought, Peasants u.av dwindle into kings, Or wits give birth to humorous thought; The great be small, the small be great; And yet through ail life's varied throng This truth holds last as death or fate, The humble ever are the strong. Ben). S. Parker, in The Current. HIS OWN BETRAYER. BY AN EX-ENGLISH DETECTIVE. Bradstreet's journal notices at length a new process of lighting and heating that promises to work a revo lution. It is a fuel gas that yields the greatest amount of heat and light for the cost of materials. It is claimed with apparent reason that this fuol will cost 10c. to 10c. per 1,000 cubic feet only, and that it gives to one ton of anthracite, the economic value of ten tons of such coal burned in the usual way. Stating the cost of such coal to the personal consumer at $6 per ton, the saving is the difference be tween $6 and $60, or the respectable sum of $54. And to efiest this econo my it is only necessary to construct a a machinery plant costing $3,500 to $10,000, according to the number of dwellings or business places to be sup plied with heat. An adjunct appa ratus, or the same one used alternate ly, can furnish illuminating gas to the same consumers. The processes are detailed and it is asserted that there exists no doubts of the complete suc cess of the new invention. Its value will be at once appreciated by reference to the above figures. It is now many years ago since I and my comrade Joyce- were sent to a village in one of the southern counties of England to discover a certain person who had robbed the squire of the place of a large sum of money. Our instruc tions were to stay there till we suc ceeded; and as the'squire was wealthy and grudged no expense, we made our dwelling in a quiet farm house where there was plenty to amuse us in our leisure intervals, we were quite alone, with the exception of an old woman who did the domestic work and minded the house when we were away on duty. Well, we found the thief to be a dis charged footman, whose knowledge of the locality had hitherto saved him from detection, though we proved much too sharp for him in the end. 1 need not trouble you with his after fate. Enough, that I am about to re late an event which happened before he was arrested, and in which I was accidentally concerned in a very curi ous way. We had made two acquaintances in the course of our walks abroad. One was a retired farmer named Branwell, who lived all by himself about a mile off. He was a bachelor, whose relations were said to have quarrelled with him, but nobody seemed to know the exact truth, or to care much about it either. I ascer tained that the lirst week I was there. The other acquaintance was named Cole, and had been a farrier, or some thing of the kind. I had heard of this Cole as incurably irritable and morose, and am free to confess that rumor had not belied him. However, he made a point of being very civil whenever we met him, and would never let us pass his cottage without speaking; to us. He was a heavy browed man, and Ins eyes had a strange filmy look which always re pelled me wheu I met his gaze. I do not believe he liked me; I certainly did not like a.m. Joyce and I were sitting one even ing smoking our pipes, when I casually remarked that 1 had not seen Bran well for the last fortnight. "Neither have I," said Joyce. "That is odd," I remarked. "I think I'll go to his cottage to-night. He may be ill, you know." "I'll go with you, Elder." "You had better stay here and let me go alone," I said. "He might fancy it an intrusion if we both went together." Joyce's attentive face relaxed. "Yes, I understand, " he answered. "Suppose, then, I follow you in half an hour, and meet you outside the cot tage? Don't refuse me, Elder, for I won't have it." So it was settled. I put on my hat and started at a brisk pace down the road, keeping steadily on between the black line of hedges on one side, and the open lields on the other. It was an ugly night, the wan moon shone at intervals through drifcing clouds, and the air was oppressively heavy. I reached the heath; I mounted the hill and there was the cottage, its gray roof showing dimly against the sky. The door was unfastened, and yielded easily to my touch. I waited a minute and then went in. Havinjr no lantern, I struck a match and as it flared up I saw a piece of candle on the window ledge beside me. I lit the candle, and holding it above my head, advanced slowly into the middle of the room. The light showed me a broken chair, an overturned table and a bed. On that bed lay a dead man, whom I at once identified as Branwell. How had he come by his death? Judging by the gaping wound in his throat, he had been foully murdered, and then placed there exactly as I saw him. I know not bow it was, but the thought of suicide never occurred to me lor a moment. No; I was as. cer tain he had been slain as if I had wit nessed the deed myself. The disor dered appearance of the furniture, the dark stains on the bed and floor all told of a struggle, who shall say how fierce and cruel? I no longer hesitated as to the proper course to pursue. Before anything in the placo was disturbed, it was my duty to report the occurrence at the farm and let others decide what fJ should do next. As these thoughts passed through my mind, I suddenly felt a breath of cold air behind me, and the candle was knocked out of my hand. What did it meanP I had heard no sound but my own footstep; 1 had seen nothing but the dead man. The candle was still flickering on the ground where it fell. Before I could reach it, a foot striding out of the gloom trod it fiercely down, and the whole chamber was sunk in darkness. I stood helpless, like one turned to stone. All at once there rose, in the awful silence, the weird howl of a be nighted dog. When this ceased, the next thing I remember was a knock ing at the door, and the cheerful voice of Joyce calling me by name. "Come in, for pity's sake!" I cried. "I shall go out of my senses if I stop here much longer." "Steady, Elder what's amiss? Hold up a second." He bad brought his lantern with him, and he turned its light full upoa me. "Why, man alive, how pale you are!" said he, clapping a bottle to my mouth. "Try a drop of brandy, and you'll perhaps feel better." I did feel better. The brandy sent the blood back to mv heart, strength ened my mind and nerves, restored me, soul and body, to myself. When I handed the bottle back to him I saw that he had bared his head, and was steadily regarding the placid face on the pillow. "Dead!" he said. "Murdered, Joyce." He lifted the lantern higher, and approched the bed. "True. It's a ghastly sight; no wonder it upset you." "Ay, but that's not the worst," I answered. "Let's go back, and I'll tell you all." He looked surprised, but his sur prise was nothing to the amazement that overcame him when he got out side, and I related what had happen ed. "Strange!" he remarked. "Why didn't you let me search the cottage before we left?" "It would have been useless, Joyce. Whoever the miscreant is, it is not likely he would risk detection by stop ping there longer than he could help. We must hunt for him nearer home." As I spoke, we arrived at a bend in the road, and I noticed a light in the window of Cole's house. "Look," said 1; "the farrier is up late to-night." He had heard us, and presently ap peared at the door. His face showed deep marks of care, and the lines about his mouth were very noticeable. Perhaps he was suffering from over fatigue, qr had other matters to worry him of which we knew nothing. He listened quietly to to my account of the murder, and made no remark till 1 bad finished. Then he eyed me closely, and came a step nearer. "Is there any one whom you sus pect?" he said. "No." "Sad very sad. Let us hope, Mr. Elder, that you may be fortu nate enough to discover the crimi nal." We thanked him, and walked on. I sat up all night to write out my report of the case, and fell asleep at last with the sunlight of the new morning pouring info the room. The inquest was held three days la ter at a neighboring inn, known as the Spotted Dog, and I was the first witness examined. On the whole, I would rather not state my opinion of the proceedings, and if you ask me what country inquest means, I treat the question as a dismal conundrum and give it up in despair. There were the usual villagers in greasy smock frocks; there was the usual old lady, who always appears in her Sunday clothes on such occasions; there were the wheelwright, the blacksmith, and the parish clerk, proud alike in the consciousness that they were public officials and not above the honor of doing their duty in a noble and disin terested manner before the eyes of their grateful countrymen. The Cor oner was a fat, pompous man, who loved the sound of his own voice and worried, everybody to distraction at every stage of the inquiry. My inter est was, however, languidly stirred when Cole stepped forward in his turn. Being sworn, the farrier de clared that he had first heard from me of the old man's death and that he knew absolutely nothing but what I had told him. The upshot of it all was that the jury returned a verdict of "Willful murder against some person or persons unknown," and so the mat ter ended. Nothing occurred for some weeks afterward. The future was unknown, the present was monotony; so pass ed the weary hours. The events of life are not evenly distributed over the whole of its course, but come unexpectedly as the advent of a ghost. The course of Time had not flowed peacefully for Cole, either; he was changed in more ways than one. The strangest thing about it was, that the change was hard to describe; it show ed itself in a hundred little signs which a stranger would scarcely notice, but which l coulil not, on my part, mis interpret. At one period the curious look in his eyes was more marked than ever, and he would stalk about, moodily silent, with his hands crossed behind him; at another he would be come tiercel' irritable and grumble in his room for hours together. This alternation between gloomy despondency and wild excitement was certainly remarkable, and taken in connection with what I had ltel v ob served of him, it suggested to me one plain explanation of the mystery an explanation which I scouted at first, but ended by accepting a conclusion which it was impossible to resist. The farrier was mad. 1 dare not say a word to my com rade, for it might have been danger ous to trust him. Jovce never knew why I persisted in keeping the house, door locked, or why, contrary to my usual habits, I carried a loaded pistol in my pocket, and would not trust myself near Cole when the night was closing in. Another matter which occupied my thoughts now and again, was the murder of Branwell. As regards my conduct in that mel ancholy business, my conscience was clear. I had done " all man conld, within the narrow limits assigned to me, to discover the miscreant who had been in the cottage on that memora ble occasion, and had then so sudden. Jy disappeared. If I accepted the common rumor of the village, he was a convict from London, long since lost in the byways of villainy from which be had emerged ; but I preferred to be lieve that he was some person who knew his victim and had deliberately hunted him down. The murderer was a robber as well. "Sooner or later we shall meet again," 1 thought, "and then " I had gone out one tine evening, and, tempted by the beauty of the prospect, had walked some distance into the country before the gathering darkness warned me it was getting late. Being in no hurry to return, I continued to stroll leisurely on when I suddenly discovered that 1 was in a strange neighborhood of which I knew nothing, and where there was no person of whom I could ask my way. More vexed with my own earless Bess than was, perhaps, altogether reasonable, I stopped, and looked around for some lamiliar landmark. There was a heavy mist prevailing which maae it uitncult to see lar, but it presentlv cleared around me, aud the moon shone out brightly through a halo of fleecy clouds. Having turned to the right, on the chance of reach ing the Hue, from which I had stray ed, I found mvself in a lane which sloped away in the distance. After following it for about a mile, I climb ed over a gate, and landed on the side of a hill. 1 started in astonishment. I was back in my old quarters, and before me was the cottage of the dead man. Presently I discerned a human figure moving rapidly along, but when I looked again it had disappeared. Al most disposed to think that my fancy had deceived me, I was hesitating what to do next, when 1 saw the cot tage window lit up from within. I hurried across, and as I got near I heard a strange noise, followed by a sound like the chinking of money. Then came a shout, and a hoarse laugh rang harsh and loud on the damp night air. I crept to the window and looked in. The first object that met my view was Cole. He was sitting on the bed. A trap-door, of the existence of which I had been ignorant, was open at his feet, and on the table beside him were a number of bank notes, and a quan tity of silver and gold. Sovereigns and shillings were tumbled carlessly together, aud he was thrusting his hands among the coins and letting them slip through his lingers with; ah appearance of the highest rejSsh. I drew back in horror silent, breath less, my blood curdling in my veins as I beheld him. Ho had never noticed my presence; he paid no attention to anything but the money he was gloating over the money which was the price of a crime. I withdrew a little way off to regain my breath and decide on my course of action. At first I thought of summon ing Joyce to assist me, but my dread of what might happen to the farrier In my absence induced me to adandon the idea, and 1 epded by determin ing to arrest him myself single handed and unarmed. It wat a des perate task, but there was no help for it. Resolved on this, I took the pistol from my pocket and drew the charge. Next I removed my coat and rolled up my shirt sleeves to the elbow. Then stealthily raising the latch of the door 1 threw it open. As the farrier confronted me, I saw an awful look of consternation pass over his face: his complex ion turned to the hue of lead; his figure grew rigid and motionless. At that moment 1 pitied him from my soul. "Wm. Cole," said I, calmly, "I ar rest you in the name of the law." He staggered to his feet, and his lips moved, though he' said nothing. I kept my back to the door, and walked boldly up to him. There was a fierce glitter in his eyes as they stared into mine. He seemed quite' passive, but the instant he felt my hand on his shoulder he shook it off, and, with a savage yell, sprang straight at my throat. In another minute wo had closed, and were grappling together in deadly conflict. We were not unequally matched. In youth and freshness, I had the advan tage over the farrier, whom the sud denness of the surprise had somewhat unnerved, and who seemed reluctant at the outset to exert his whole force. But th s reluctance did not last long, and as his arms tightened their em brace, 1 knew it would be as much as 1 could do to overpower him. His lean frame had an elasticity, his grip a firm ness, that would hardly have been ex pected from his appearance, and the fury of madness trebled his strength. I would not strike him; 1 struggled as a wrestler to bring him down to the ground. We rocked, and strained, and reeled till the floor shook under our weight, and the door and window rattled again. By de grees I began to tire "him, and to drive him backward in the direction of the bed, when, just as 1 was collect ing my energies for a final effort, my foot slipped and I fell heavily to the ground. In vain I tried to rise I was held fast and my position gave me no chance of releasing myself. Still 1 did not realize my actual peril till, writhing quickly round, he knelt upon me and 1 saw in his hand a long, bright knife. Death. Well, even so. It was but dying once and I was quit of it for ever. . Suddenly, all in a second as it were, I heard the door creak something dark whirled past me like a cloud there was the dull thud of a blow and Cole, hurled across the room, struck against the table with such rudeness that it overturned and sent the coins spinning in every direction. 1 got upon my feet unhurt, but breathing quicker, and found myself face to face with Jovce. I looked for the farrier he was lying senseless in the opposite corner. "A close shave indeed!" said my comrade, with his old, easy gayety. "You never had such a squeak for it in your life, Elder." I knew that as well as he did, and after thanking him warmly for his timely aid, I made him acquainted with the startling events of the last half hour. I will say nothing of the terms in which Joyce expressed his opinion of my conduct, almost wring ing my hand off in the fervor of his enthusiasm. "Our duty now is to secure the far rier and get him away as quietly as possible," I said. "And the sooner the better." We searched the cupboard till we found a coil of rope, with which we bound Cole hand and foot before he was conscious of what was being done to him. Before daybreak it was known all over the country that the murderer of Branwell had been discovered and was safe in our custody. He was, however, acquitted at his tr al the medical evidence proving, beyond the possibility ot doubt, that he was then insane and had been insanu for a long time. He died a month later, having never once spoken a s ngle word to anyone after the verdict, which con signed him to a mad house for the re mainder of his days. Scissors and Paste. Judicious use of the scissors and paste brush, when confined within proper limits, is a part of good, journ alism. What can be done by it alone is told by the English correspondent of the Evening Post: In many out-of-the-way villages the Christian World and the Police News are the only papers to be obtained for love or money, and among the class which delights in the record of deeds of blood and violence the latter isquite a bible. The front page is "drawn" by one man who is paid twenty pounds per week for the job, and the man who arranges the letterpress and wields the scissors and paste receives a simi lar salary. There is not a line of orig inal matter in the whole paper. About 300,000 is the weekly circulation, which yields a princely income from the original outlay of 200 about twelve years ago. 1 mentioned just now the Christian World, and this is another instanee of successful scissors-and-paste journal ism, although I would not wish to con vey the idea that this widely read re ligious paper never contains any original matter. Mr. James Clarke, its present proprietor, bought it for a mere song I believe for 150 when the concern was in a very bad financial position. Now the circulation is a quarter of a million copies weekly; besides which the proprietor runs sev eral other papers, the printing of which gives constant employment to one of the largest firms in Lon don. The Christian World is not a particularly brilliant publica tion, but it has a wonderful lot of advertisements. Every pious grocer or shoemaker who wants an equally pious assistant, every owner of a quack nostrum, every "coupon" dodger, rushes into the Christian World as a capital medium. "Wanted, a young man to look after a house, of the Wesleyan persuasion," "Must fear the Lord and be able to carry three hundred weight," "Low salary, but all the advantages of a Christian fam ily," are fair samples of the kind of thing which graces the columns of the Christian World. Everybody who wants to secure country servants at low wages makes use of this journal. It is a great favorite with the female Dissenter, who admires hugely tbe namby-pamby "novels" which it con tains, and which are now issued in a Family Circle. Ldition. But for sheer impudence in journal ism of the scissors and-paste order, a weekly paper called 'I'id-BUs certainly bears bff the palm. Some genius dis covered that English newspapers were very heavy, and that there were hosts of people who would buy a jour nal which did not require much read ing and was free from a lot of to-be-continued-in-our-next stories. He also found that there was a vast amount of amateur literarv talent which could bo "exploited" for next to nothing. The Art of Good Dining. Let the table, when nee one is pres ent but the home circle, be the mode, of what it should be when sjrrounded by guests. Lay a piece of thick Can ton flannel under yotr table cloth. Even coarse napery will- look a mud better quality with a sub-cover than ii spread directly over the- bare tabl top. Avoid the cheap trick of hotels ami restaurants in the arrangement o napkins and table utensils. Simplic ity is never ridiculous, while preten sion usually is. Place the- napkin or. the left side of the plate with a piece of bread in its folds, the fork on- th': right hand, next to that the knife witl the sharp edge turned from the on, who is to use it, beyond this the souji spoon. At the point of these set the tiimb ler and individual butterplate. Mats, tablespoons, salt cellars and peppet cruets may be arranged to suit one's taste. Banish the heavy castor from the center of the table and put there in stead a vase of flowers, if it be nothing more ambitious than some bits of i.vj or evergreen brightened by a spray ot bittersweet. At the carver's place spread a white napkin, the point toward the middle of the table, to protect the cloth from plashes of gravy. Let the soup be served by the mis tress and eaten with no accompani ment except a piece of dry bread in the hand. Buttering is only less vulgai than thickening the contents of the plate with crumbs. When this course has been removed the meat and vege tables may be placed on the- table. If there is salad, it should be served separately, in a course by itself. The heavy part of the dinner eaten, the maid should be summoned and should commence the clearing of the table by carrying out first the meat, then the dishes of vegetables, and after that plates and butter plates, placing one on top of the other and using a tray to transfer everything except the large platters. Do not permit her to go through the operation of scraping the contents ol one plate into another, with a clattei of knives and forks, and then bearing off the whole at once. Two plates al a time are enough for one load. Next after the soiled dishes, have taken off mats, salt cellars and othei table furniture but tumblers, water bottle or pitcher, napkin rings and ice bowl, and then have the crumb: brushed and tray used. The desert is then served, and ex cept at a ceremonious dinner the tea i or coffee, which should never appeal earlier in the action, and the work ol i waiting is done. When one realizes the exceeding I simplicity of this much-dreaded branch of domestic service it seems incompre hensible that in so many families dainty waiting should be unknown. 1. am well aware that the question ol serving is generally the sticking point It is very hard sometimes impossi ble for the mistress with but one maid-of-all-work to demand that thai one shall be a jiractical waitress, l! is much easier to have the food jumb led on the table in a helter-skeltei fashion than to run the risk of making trouble by insisting that it shall be served in courses. But the matter is not so difficult, after all, if the ser vant understands from the beginning that this will be required of her Good Cheer. Bishop Berkeley to Have a Statue, It is a little more than a centurj and a half since Bishop Berkeley wai appointed to the see of Cloyne, and al last a monument is to be erected to his memory. It will be set up in the course of the present month in the cathedral in which he often officiated, and if the recognition is tardy, at ieasi the homage comes from a wide area. Much of the money is subscribed front America and some of it from England It is curious writes a correspondent. dating his letter from Cloyne, how fevi Sixteen pages of edds and I and faint are the traditions of the ole ends, anecdotes, short tales, cuttings bishop to be found upon the spot. Born from other naoers. etc.. are served ud I in Kilkenny, and educated at th for one penny. Lacu week a guinea prize is offered for the best "bit ' sent in, the right to publish any or all be ing reserved. By this means Mr. Newnes, the proprietor and editor, gets all his "copy" very cheaply and at the same time interests a large cli entele in his paper, which, to tell the truth, is a mighty poor specimen of a journal. But the concern is a great commercial success, and the sublime impudence of a man who can get all his "copy" sent him by his readers cannot be too much admired erage ot aoout 3,000 "bits," less original, pour in every week; one of these "bits" costs a guinea, the re mainder cost nothing. Mr. Newnes and nis office boy cut and paste up the paper, and Mr. Newnes pockets 300 per week net profit from the little venture. Occasionally a bigger prize is given. Six months ago the proprie tor offered a house as a prize for the best tale, original or selected. A sol dier at Canterbury came across some thing interesting in a book he was reading, copied it out, and sent it to Mr. Newnes. It happened to please that gentleman s critical literary taste, and the son of Mars became the proud possessor of a seven-roomed hoase upon the sole condition that he called it the Tid Bits Villa. No less than 14, 000 persons competed for the prize. The paper is only a year or two old, and yet there is probably only one other paper in the world, the Paris Petit Journal, which has a larger circula tion. He Stoppad tlis (rami. "I love billiards," exclaimed an af fectionate little miss to her juvenile sweetheart, as each one picked up a cue from the rack in the "game" room of the family residence, "it is almost as good as playing 'post office.' " "Now 1 know why you are partial to it," replied the young man. "No you don't " "It's because there is so much kiss ing in it," replied he. "And a little hugging by the cush ion, too," said she. "And Tery often amiss-cue," said the father, who had interfered just as a "kiss-shot" was about to be made National Weekly. school there, a graduate of Trinitj college, of whi h he was ultimately I fellow. Berkelev was an Irish pre ate at a tjnie when Irish sees were often tilled by English clergy. He was t patriot, too, and a protectionist, de siring always to encourage native and local industry, so that he made a poin: of ordering his clothes and even hii wigs from the tradesmen of the city o: Cloyne. The see was joined with that of Cork and Ross in the year 1835, aud the Bishop's palace is now let U An av- I a yentleman farmer. But still then more or j remains traces of the old occupancy, A clergyman in those days not untro quently mingled a little knowledge o' medicine with a little knowledge o: theology the herbal lay on the shell with the condordance. It is reportee of the bishop that lie had an extraor dinary faith in the efficacy of tarwater. They "pointed out in the grounds a the palace some remaining shrubs i row of myrtles of his planting, thi roots of which ho carefully tarred be lore the clay was shoveled over them For twentv vears he held the see o' I Cloyne, and when he left for England in 1752, there is contemporary recor that "his neighbors and the countrt folk, with sorrow in their hearts, ac companied him to the ship and watch ed its white sails as they disappeared behind the rising shores of Spike." Pali Mall Gazette. A Meager Wardrobe. A noted scientist had his entin wardrobe stolen from him last week with the exception of a few paper col ars. He had an engagement to call oi a young lady up the Hudson river He sent the following dispatch: "I have had all my clothes stolei except some paper colars. But tha fact will not deter me from coming.' He received the following telegran in response: "If you have nothing but paper col ars to wear do not come. I lov French art but not French realism." The author of "Delusions of Acci dent" said he liked literal translations but not to such an extent. hew i'on Mail and Express. Pierre Lorillard is willing to pa? $10,0.10' year to a good jockey. And yet some peopi banker for a $1,501 consulate.