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About Tillamook headlight. (Tillamook, Or.) 1888-1934 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 3, 1891)
INCORPORATED), A FULL AND COMPLETE SET OF»------------------------------ -A. stracts of _A_H x_1a,nds ELnd Town. Lots in tixe County The only Set of Abstracts in the County the doctor eudor . Yes, y«." r«Plled he----- utrtUl b. did not «uru from bis glowing go ill, so very ill, doctor, that I fear”----- Go to tbs devil with your fears! Do you good woman, that I am busy.” Busy!” replied the old woman. “How do iOw what att Trying to discover the t secret, perhaps, and while you are thus jy tempting the devil, the poor dear b dying " Uni secunda elapsa hora, et aqua incan- •nte, canidem iterum Injlcies pulverem.” • doctor threw two handfuls of white [er in the vane, and went on reading old parchments. a old woman drew a long and deep sigh, doctor was a young man, twenty-eight i of ag*. i*rhap»*, but it was difficult to sat it from his pale and emaciated coun ties. You could only see that hard study, erh.nps gr-ef, anything but years, had int**d on his forehead a deep, solitary, premature furrow, and to look at his iv chocks, sallow complexion, and long tangled hair, one could not but feel re- that the bloom of health did not now late his regular and beautiful features. wu bending over the vase; sometimes idling, with his breath, the dying coals, Ise interrupting his reading to throw len and herbs into the water. he great secret—old goose—better, much r than that A right of life and death 1” d suddenly he exclaimed: hat is it—admirably, admirably done.” ow, old mother, 1 am at your sorvice,” i be, an if the old woman was still there ; she had gone. »doctor poured into a small bottle his ical preparation, a blue liquid which iced a sweet tier fume; he threw his dark le over bis disordered clothes, and left iboratory, bolding in his hand his pre- vial, carefully wrapped in the folds of mtle, to hide it f;-> u the curiosity of i, or to preserve it hum the accidents ong and rapid walk. i twenty minutes’ fast walking from the de i’Horloge to the Rue des Tournelles; »nty minutes the doctor had reached his stion. He stopped before a large and ome hotel, the walls that surrounded urtyanl were high and thick, the door ind bordered with iron—a precaution l»e forgotten—for all this took place in iber, 1584, during the reign of King F the Third. knocked, and from behind a barred w a servant recognised and admitted as! Sir Eudor,” said a man of about 60 of age, "I have but very little hope.” doctor hardly restrained a smile, but 1 man did not perceive it—his eyes were vith tears. i must not give up entirely, M. le ); nature and science have so many re- ” These consoling words were ut- i a sneering manner, and the count ed to weep. Eudor shrugged his rs as if the husband’s grief struck him d or ridiculous. Without adding a le drew aside a covering of thick , and entered a large and somber «it. The count followed him. • the patient's room. In the back- surrounded by curtains, stood the he doctor a; »proached and motioned >unt to open the window. The beau- ceof a female then became visible; g had scarcely altered her delicate ■feet features. Her sweet face was, pale, and beneath her long black eye- 'as a small blue circle—but who would e preferred her appearance, ill as she ¡the most blooming t>eauty? ' gazed fixedly at her. Tbe count limself on the foot of the bed and i eyes on the doctor, who, wrapped own meditations, thought neither of fing nor discouraging him. After a I lent« of silence, Eudor gently lifted rlid and took the arm of the patient sr pulse. Ider indicated that the countess was ioint of waking; tbe doctor looked y around. irisis will take place when she awakes, i emotion may prove fatal. You Ire, sir.” * hide behind this curtain,” said the ‘I do so long to see her open her thinking that in past days your power would have conquered my reason, then 1 might have been yours without crime, but now”- “That Is true,” replied Eudor, abruptly Ah, it is clear enough we were uot made for one another; we have uot the same way of lov ing. Miserable fool that 1 um, 1 was sacri fleing to you honor und conscience! But what can Ido! 1 have one of those weak I minds, over which love reigns like a tyrant, a crime would lie of no consequence in my I eyes if it would make you mine. Do you bear me? a crime-if it but free you!” An exclamation of horror burst from the countess. “You need uot be frightened,” returned Eudor, hastily; “you do not understand me.” After a minute of silence, the countess said bi a sweet and melancholy tone of voice; “Eudor, why do you thus torment a poor suf | faring woman? Is this a time to talk thus to me? Probably you know even better than my- self that it would be no longer in my power i to accept of the guilty happiness vou offer me. I 1 feel so weak, soou, very soon, I trust, all ' will be over—fears and Borrows, and this broken heart will be at rest ” “Why these sad thoughts?” “Sad? oh, nol they are happy ones. How often have 1 prayed to God to take me from this earth, where all happiness is lost to me. God has heard me.” “Then,” said Eudor, “you would like to”----- “Die,” replied the countess calmly “If I were to tell you that there was no more hope: that your disease was a fate! one”----- Endor’s countenance was lighted up, as he Bpoke, with an almost infernal expression of joy; he gazed for an instant on this beautiful young woman, who seemed to be almost dying, and then, he continued: “Well, then, since you are prepared, I will tell you the truth. When 1 just now spoke of a future, of joy and love, 1 wished to de ceive you, and to give you a hope that I my self have lost”— He stopped; it Beemed impossible for him to articulate another word, she fixed on him such a look of love aud melancholy; and in her beautiful black eyes, there was such an expression of tender ness and regret at leaving this world, that the young man seemed deeply moved. “Ahl you are not as much weaned from this life as you saidl” A smile played on the pale lips. “Yes,” said she, “1 own it, I felt, I do not know why, my heart sink; but my courage is returning. I am ready now,” added she, takiug Eudor’s hand and putting it on her heart; “now repeat those words, and you | will feel it beat neither faster now slower.” j “Well, then,” said Eudor, disengaging his hand; “let the will of heaven he done I” He retreated a few steps, and concealing himself behind the curtains, he drew from his bosom the vial he had placed there onenteringl An instant more, and he calmly presented to Emma a cup filled to the very brim with the blue liquid. “What for!” said she; “will it prolong my life?” “No,” replied Eudor. “Well, then—why must I take another bitter potion?” “This one is not bitter, Emma; and if it cannot conquer your fever, it will, at least, save you from all sufferings in your last mo menta.” The counteaa put the cup to her lipB, and, while she slowly drank it, Eudor con tinued: “Y^)U will deep os if after a ball, quietly rocked with the sounds of sweet music, your flowers and your dress before your eyes.” “Yes," replied the countess, returning to him the empty cup, “yes, all my happy recol lections will assist me at this moment, since you are there, you with whom all the joys and pleasure of ray past life are connected." One hour had passed, and ever since she bad taken Eudor’s prescription the counted had l>een hopelessly weak. 8he asked for the consolations of religion. Priestaand Levites soon arrived carrying the Bacrwi Host It was a Bad sight, a room full of kneeling persons, repeating in a low voice th«» prayers for the dying, which only sobs of anguish occasionally interrupted; here and there yellow lights throwing their flickering rays over the kneeling crowd, and bending over tbe bed an aged priest ministering to a youthful female. Soon the crowd dispersed and again Eudor was left alone with Emma, but the interview waa not long. Her last look, ber last prayer, ber last Bigb were for tbe only one she bad ever loved, and death seized bis prey. Did Eudor display grief at her mournful end? He gazed at her calmly; but now and then, as if to quiet some importune thought, he repeated: “She wished to die Tho worst can only be that her wish has been granted.” He called the count and led him to the bed. “You are the person to close her eyes.” The despair of the old man was heart rend ing. He fell senseless by the body of his wifa When the count was come from tbe cham ber Eudor returned to the bedside. He seemed to feel an exquisite pleasure in wateb^ ing tbe body Tbe clred eyee. the .tiffened linibe, the features once so beautiful, now pale and sunken He gawd and murmured with a smile: •• Tl» right, no breath, no hf»-cold-rigid -dead.” ... The room soon filled with domestic, all with tears in their eyea and grief at their hearts end on their lip.; all prayed for th. nul Of tbe deceased-she will go straight to paradise, said they, She was so good. ••Without reckoning that she had her pur gatory in this world," half murmured the doctor, who alone did not bend bi» knee or pray for her who bad died. There wa. in then JO man old relation. Eudor addrewssl r," said Eudor, with a disdainful and nile. “Well, count, enjoy that and risk your wife's life for such a 1 satisfaction." unt, after a moment’s hesitation, the doctor promised to call him as »Bible. of joy brightened the features of ; man when he found himself alone m, and his countenance, animated I emotion, ap|»eared singularly He no longer stopped to gaze; but, by the bedside, he covered with *cs the hand of the young woman ly passed his fingers through the lishevelled curls, and even dared to •urning aud perched lipa (claimed be as he gazed at her, icb courage is uecessary? But 1 t; and in a few hours five years of id labor will be rewarded.” it words aw.»ke the countess. or did not change bis posture, he ,n his knees, and still held tbe pa rt. she turned her beautiful eyes m and started with mingled sur- ©nd joy *• • nv>ment of silence, ’.either other spoke. I’erhan* ,uey were B "T1 “u«bt end t ’.eir happiness, dhksadrmm. wd Eu.lor, "ws are alone, alone ‘" ■Slie murt be buried a. won a. .L.1 lbe first time since I «1,1 I,,-, "her disease u. con tag. ora, and if you it is the first time in fl vs wnit more than two hour», your live, will aU be , .lunger." Half frightened coontem prevented her oid .Oman gave her ordere, tbjr began to toll, tbe crosse. «ere raise.», tn. light* prepared, th. room, hung «ithmou«^ ing. ami - owly th. funeral procemion cam. from tlie church. Tfte Issly had been dreraed In ber bandsom eat ga me ms-adre» of brocade with apeari necldace. ' rwl :, l> lace around th. neck, and her feet < overwl with stocking» of rilk and gold, and sii.es of white ••It is her bridal dre»»," »aid win» on. to E “That i. right, for th. ram. occadoo. ram. | dr£.effln «» there, but th. c-unt'** «till on ber bed. The old aunt approached, ill re tn band. Un. would bar. thought ‘^prreenufv.of R. R. HAYS, Manager, Tillamook, Oregon. I the coffin, and, wot with thia sacred dew tt w as taken to the tumb Three hours had elapsed since the last cere- niomes had been pertvnned. aud the church presented a striking and imposing scene, cal culated to Impress on weak mid wavering minds the terrors of religion. The rays of the moon striking on the painted window panes threw strange figures over the white and lofty walls, while the different effects of light and shallow gave to the images of the saints a fantastic and unusual appearance. The altar was still hung with black, in the middle of the church yet stood, covered over with black cloth sprigged with silver, the stools ou which the coffin had been placed, and from the pillars around still bung the escutcheons of the late countess. It was a solemn spectacle, and occasionally the moon, bidden by a cloud, left the whole in dark ness, which was only relieved by the flicker ing and uncertein flame of the lights around the altar Suddenly a slight noise was heard, a foot step, a man carrying a lantern and long ex tinguLsher appeared. It was the sexton. He went his rounds in silence, and as he returned suddenly dropped bis extinguisher and uttered a loud exclamation The cause of bis surprise and affright was a man leaning against a pillar, immovable, and so weak, so suffering, that apparently he bad not strength enough to drag him from the church when the last l»ell had tolled, bls dry and sunken eyes were fixed on the face of the sexton, and his right hand supported his aching brow. “Bountiful provideuce, is it a ghostr said Maitre Arnoux, the sexton; and as he pro nounced these words he let his lantern shine full upon the stranger “ What are you doing here, sir f” said he, when he found he had to deal, not with a ghost, but with a young and handsome man. “ The church is closed. ” The person to whom these words were ad dressed, answered only by a half suppressed groan; his limbs gave way, and he fell on the pavement. “ May my good saint, St. Anthony, help me,” exclaimed Maitre Arnoux, “ what am I to do with this man I 1 verily believe he is half dead.” As he uttered these words, he shook him violently by the sleeve, and filling his hands with holy water, bathed his temples. The young man opened his eyes. “ I am very weak indeed,” said he, in a low and faltering voice. “ My sufferings have overwhelmed me. • • • Have you no cor dial, good man f" "1 have but one,” replied the sexton, "which is excellent for recalling one to sense —goxl wine.” “Yes, I think a little wine might restore me. ” “Well, then, my friend, you must crawl up to my cell, for it would be offending the 6aints to drink here.” Assisted by Arnoux, the young man reached a little door that opened into the church, and, having ascended a winding staircase, found himself in the rooms of the sexton, who immediately poured out some wine for him. “Well, friend, do you feel better now?” “Much, much better,” replied Eudor, while bis companion emptied a large glass. “True Burgundy,” exclaimed Arnoux, striking the table with the cup be bad just emptied. The cups were again filled; but one merely raised his to his lips, while the other threw himself back, and scrupulously swallowed the last drop of the nectar. “His excellency the urchdeacon does not drink any to compare to it,” exclaimed the sexton in his bacchanulian enthusiasm; “I will tell you the whole story.” Eudor listened with imperturbable sang froid to all the stories of his companion, which became more and more obscure after every cupful. The enormous face of the sex ton shone with a color of the brightest red; his eyes wandered; he smiled stupidly. At last, after emptying his cup for the thirteenth tune (fatal nunil»en, the joyous drinker burst into a loud fit of laughter, threw l»ack his hea<l and stretched his cramped legs. This motion was too rapid; his feet slipped on the floor and he fell flat. The doctor immediately sprang on him, as a dog on the wild boar just wounded by the hunter’s ball, quickly and silently bo drew from the sexton's belt a bunch of keys, seized his lantern, cleared with one jump the wind ing staircase and found himself in the church. The door opened, Sudor was in the damp repository of the dead. Amidst all the splen did monuments there was one place where the earth bad been newly turned up and a wreath of flowers thrown over it. That was it. Eudor pushed aside the wreath aud dug away at the last resting place. The coffin appeared; the lid was broken, and once more he contemplated his victim. At this instant the clock struck, the doctor counted the slowly proceeding strokes with terror—ho counted ten. “Weill ‘Opportunum p«mt duoflecim boras moiuenitum permane nt. ’ There is still plenty of time." Having pronounced these mysterious words be raised the corpse os carefully as if it had been a sleeping woman be was afraid of dis turbing, and laid it on bis cloak. The coffin was empty, but when the monument would be finished they would find it lightened of ita contento, aud what might then be suspected? A few years before a horrible profanation bod taken pbce. A young and beautiful girl having died, was buried, and the next day ber body disappeared. It was afterward known that the lover of tlie young girl had stolen the corpse and embalmed it The young man was burnt alive on tbe Flace de Greva Tlie grave must be filled Tbe coffin must have ita weight. Eud«»r threw in it tbe statue of a saint, worm eaten and abandoned, and carefully nailing it up once more, placed it under ground. Eudor then bent over the body of the coun ted and after an anxious examination raised it in his arms and left the church yard, ami through dark and out of tbe way streete, at length reached bis dwelling In 10UI, seventeen years after this adven ture, a duel Ujok place one night on tbe Quai de I'Horioge, between the Chevalier de Com- mingea and tbe young Marquis de Ja-piea. Tbe latter having received a woufui in tbe side waa earned by bw attendants b> tbe Dr. Endor’s, who* dwelling was near and repo- tetion great Recalled te life by tbe skillful care that was taken of him. tbe marquis wM •truck with the reniarkabie bkeneaa, notwith standing a great difference of age, which ex ited bet ween lb« d««’te>r and the late Counter de la Jaques, bis aunt, wbo bad die! at the age »f ami of whom be bad c-nly ttw portrait -Tranateted fr<xn tee Frencit ___ ______________ A pg« Orer«l. t*. Cr<rel»«. to follow I *^Are you mad I Do you Thia hair MUI wet with the death «-«h brers tbe .eeda o< drath. !»•»••* ratbrt think of bun,,n» : mreta. aU that U» touched. Rebra raireu rwiwmher her «ord. red bar dre»* Ha thre ptored it tn ire lifted it oo their shoulder», red tb. furerm procrerino movwi. Al church tre «rvic f irmwl. a loaf and red eoM nod grave word* A .10*4 Wral Fourth «u—t U» otbre d*. »bite tb. i»tre •'»*«« •» th. retire«» rt —iot. I — •» En«1“ ruM> in red t**« ““ bF »** t,*Ct w «*" IM g.u do«* b. rereoo b“ taunrtre Md. r«u>.< b* trout pun b. «ood m u»t « < Turning bta »red “ ••• “• £7by. »«•■’»'I-’1 •■» *** ¿*7 to r»n m uud toar.i th. that b» >«»«td •»*"■ ■“ red IL «... unit, ire unm >v. a . uri>. *»F THE VILLAIN PURSUED. I I CHICAGO’S PHYSICAL PECULIARITY. Villages Which Have Beeotue Cities lu Sise—A Prophecy. Chicago baa a physical ptvuliarity that radically affects its social conditiou, and pre vents its becoming homogeneous. It has one busine68 center and three List met residence parts, divided by the branching river Com munication between tbe residence sections has to be made through the business city, and is further hindered by the bridge cross ings, which cause irritatiug delays the greater part of the year The result is that three villages grew up, now Itecome cities in size, and each w ith a peculiar character. The north side w as originally the more aris tocratic, and having fewer rail ways and a lees occupied with business lake front, was the most agreeable as a place of residence, always having the drawitack of the bridge crossings to the business part. After the great tire building iota were cheaper there than on the south side within reasonable distance of the active city It Las grown amazingly, and is beautified by stately housesand fine architec ture, and would probably still be called the more desirable place of residence. But the south side has two great advantages—easy acix«#» to the busim** «'enter and to the great southern parks and pleasure grounda This latter would decide many to live there. The vast west side, with its lumlier yards and factories, its foreign settlements and its population outnumbering the two other sec tions combined, is practically an unknown region socially to the uorth side and south side. The causes which produced three villages surrounding a common business center will contiuue to operate. The west side will con tinue Co expand with cheap houses, or even elegant residences on the park avenues—it is the glory of Chicago that such a large pro portion of its bouses are owned by their oo- cupanta, and that there are few tenement rookeriea, and aven few gigantic apartment houses—over a limitless prairie, the north side will grow in increasing beauty about Lincoln park, and the south side will more and more gravitate with imposing houses about the attractive south parka Thus the two fashionable part« of the city, separated by five, eight un i ten miles, will develop a social life of their own, about as distinct as New York and Brooklyn It remains to be seen which will call the other “Brooklyn.” At present these divisions account for much of the disorganisation of social Life, and pre vent that concentration which seems essen tial to the highest social development.— Charles Dudley Warner in Harper's Muga cine Three A "MASHER" DISCOMFITED BY LADY’S SEi_F POSSESSION. An Incident Which Took Place on a Itrouklyn Promenade— A Self ( oocelted Club Man Brought to Grief—Coinuieuda- ble Feminine Dignity. Ordinarily the women of Brooklyn are ex empt from insult on the stieeL That uni versal nuisance, the "masher," is uot often seen in this city An incident that paxsed under the Ham bier’s observation, however, showb that there are exceptions to the i*ule,and that some of our bowling swells occasionally transceud the proprieties of gentlemanly be havior in their treatment of the fair sex. The incident occurred ou a bright Saturday after- nooiL Fulton street, in the fashionable mer cantile quarter above the city halt was crowded. Robust dowagers, blooming ma trons and radiant maidens brightened the thoroughfare ou both side« The swish of 6ati*is and silks w as al most audible above the tinkling car bells. Rich perfumes, exhaled from dainty handkerchiefs, permeated the air Wonders in millinery flouted about like so many immature flower gardeua The scene was brilliant, enlivening aud pictur eequa Suddenly a womau more beautiful than any on the promenade appeared in the throng She sailed along Like the Puritan, the Mayflower or Volunteer amid a aquudron of inferior yachts She was a beauty, and no mistaka Her figure, of about medium height, was admirably proportioned aud su perbly developed. Her skin, as smooth as ivory or alabaster, mingled the hues of the lily and the rose. Her rich brown hair, brushed straight back from the temples, re vealed a perfect forehead From beneath her pretty bonnet her luminous gray eyes, deli cately shaded by sweeping lashes, looked forth in candid confidence upou the surround iriga From the tip of the plume in the bon net to thy little feet that pattered ou the pavement this dainty lady was dressed in ex quisite taste. Her ooKtume, a dream in old gold and rich brown, admirably t>eran)e her charming person. Nothing could have been more modest than ber demeanor, and yet, by her superior charms, she attracted general at tention. Men, and women too. stop;»ed to look after her in udmiratiou. Quite unaware of the sensation she created, she continued quietly on her way But the vidian still pur sued ber CRIMSON WITH CHAGRIN Just os she neared the corner of Bridge street the "inaKher’’ ap|»eured Those famil iar with Brooklyn affairs would readily reeoguize him asa well known club man who is largely engaged in the wholesale import ing trade. He is ban<lsomo, wealthy and well connected. His personal frieuds num ber a small army His reputation has been aLxive reproach in the elevated sex11al circles in which< he moves, and he eujoys the de lights of a refined home and a large and interesting family Bounding along at a rol licking pace, he approached the belle of the pronienude. In a moment he was walking rapidly tieside her She looked neither to the right uor left He bent upon her lace a gaze of ardent appreciation. Ou ward she marched without recognizing his proximity. They moved forward side by side for per haps a hundred feet. The "masher” turned crimson with cha grin The lady was as cool and colJ«*<*ted as if she bad been within the sacred precincts of her boudoir Buddeuly the interlo|»er whispered swiftly in her ear and switched into a side street in order to note the effect of his worda What he said elicited not so much as the respousive elevation of an eye- bryw The lady proceeded calmly and with much dignity on her way When she reached Macouitier Btpiare she gracefully trip;»«! across the car tracks and entered a mercan tile palace in the neigiitiorhood Her pursuer, very much cresltallen. slunk into a conve nient inn aud pru«*vede<1 to drowu his dis con>fltlire in copious litmtiona Had ha learned a leaaon that would prevent a rej»eti- tion of his misconducts-Bruoklyu Eagle “ Ram bier. ” ___________ Artist Prior’s Famous Cartoon. At Tamni, in the Egyptian campaign under Gen. Graham, Mr Prior came "witbiu au ace” of losing bis lifa “The gallant Forty- second” having been ordered to charge, o[»ened up a gap and advanced in double column. The brunt of the Soudanese attack fell at once on the frout of the supporting Sixty fifth Prior, who had been hard at work milking sketches, was by this change of front left fully exposed to the enemy's fire, and turned towards the Sixty-fifth. They were already retiring, pressed back by the momentum of the fanatics' charge. This left the correspondent in the open, and the brown warriors made a rush for him. They came to within fifteen feet, almost overtaking him. As the foremost Arab launched bis s|»ear, it whizzed over Prior's shoulder and transfixed a soldier of the Sixty fifth immediately in his front Prior fell Into his proxy’s place in the fly ing ranks, and when the rally was made the native assault was easily repulsed. The column was reformed into a long line and in their advance 4,01)0 Soudanese were killed and wounded. The rest fltxl. After the flurry Prior went to the scene of the deadliest attack and began sketching this famo<< iMiltlefleld. The flying enemy were out «»I range aud the sand was strewn with •ii vage corp«***—as he thought Suddenly he heard a voice from the rear call out “Come out of that. Prior; we've just had a man kill«*d there I” He turned. Within eight feet of him writhed the bloody yet still supple form of a wounded Soudanese. There was a gleam of bloodthirstiness in tlie fallen chiefs eyes and of triumph al tlie swift vengt'ance be already L'ftrfiiln«*«* of the Phonograph. counted sure on one at least of the white In The improvements In the phonograph have vaders His steM.ing spear, a short, heavy now been carried to such a degree of perfec weapf»n with a t»nj«d double edged steel bluds tion that the instrument is practically ready and an Ironclad butt, was raised in his right for general introduction. Undoubtedly band, ready for the thrust be would In a mo means will be hit iijmm » from time to time to ment t»e near enough to make. eniianoe the value and efficiency of the phono One look was enough. Prior “«‘erne out of graph. but It «land« today, in our opinion, that.” And then the British soldiers went far more practical and complete than was over the battlefield and shot every one of the the tyjiewnter when Unit brought out and wounded, as a means of self protection. This plat'll on the market Hark of all Lite tall talk scene furnished for The Illustrated News Mr. and exaggeration on the subject, for which Prior’s famous cartoon “Killing the the daily pre* is chiefly responsible—cer Wounded,” which ex<4ted so much feeling in tainly not th owe who are introducing lt>— is a London that a parliamentary investigation machine of admirable performance, wboee waa had into the justification of such “cru utility is so wide and various that it Is bard elty "—John Paul Bucock iu New York to determine just which work wL4 give it the World. __________ largest fields of employment And tbeu, too, Mbits Natives of Africa. aside from the practical use. is the wonder— for wonder It la—that not only can the hu Most people who have read Rider Hag man voice be registered, but it can be dupli gard's tale of the great white race in Africa cated in oountieas electrotypes consider it the purest fiction, but such Is not We may be wrong but not greatly, in be the cam Hou th of Timbuctoo and north of lieving that thia century will be memorable Kong mountains, io the western part of above others because it io that which And Africa, live the Foolahs, the white tribe of preserved articulate speech for after tuna the Dark Continent. This tribe has good AU poetry of every age. is full of the yearn features, a skull modeled like that of a white ing one of the dee|M*( in human nature, for tnau. and a complexion about as dark as that the voice whom gentle greeting could be of the Italians They were great slave trad beard no more, and yet this tender Beatuneot ers tn the eld days, bat they uiade a «[»ertally will he gmtihed. and ea< b elusive to<ie aud of the finest grades of caplives, aud Itut few accent now has conferred on it a perpetuity of their own number were ever transported. that is not an attribute of even the graven Ills ««aid that a shipload of them was once stone or brant — Electrical W or Id. buxled on Ute coast of Izmisiaoa, and that the Creolea. refusing to believe them darkies, popular Newspaper Literature. set them free and bung Itos slaves What sort of literaturs is our popular Thaw P<M»iabs settlwi down Io the marshes nx.lern ue««reref 10 *» of Houthem Izxilsiaaa, and after a while tee would b. unfa'/ to iguore the fart that aoma earns civilised, and in that part of the »tate of our n.w»(ia(*r. do exert tb. tret literary today yon will find tell, dark, rather good influence on tbeir r<-a>leni and corwrtaotioualy l<F/klng white men who have all ti»e lnd«>iao«w aubonlinata outer feet urn. of tbelr work m of It* black Afrkwn. wbo are sometimes as their duties a. educator» But th. typical fierce as the Arab, aad always hospitable and modem oew.|«per. to meet th. la«e which rnusual 1tews pei»ple are the dmnendanto Il tiaa erretrd. mu»l .urn-txler »hoi. <x»lumna of the Foolahs. and tbelr Mayfl«»wer was • to writer, wbo aim only al I—mg amuaiog, Slavsr There are strange people la thia and Often wx-cewJ only in 1*10» |wrL «Unity great country of ours. - ILanaaa City Star. or wanda lou. and it mwt find or In rant “uaw." item, «hkb ■»»•about a. lofty an influence 00 tb. mnxi. of aa th. woreler. of th. fair twd 00 Uw mind of M'rea Frimmaa A continual flr*»l of «uch mattre 1, O.X U) 1« offkel M a.rm-ttrl by an anew- kxmal brilliant whtotiaf or a tuuf column «jrei-b by a public man. or a -.ybdiunlw- story by a good writer A nd the effw-ts srs curnulati »* H« m T j new»- Mpw»ar»«redily trainia»a large oumtre of rredcr. to falw WnnUnl. in Uw only liter*- tun ot wlurt» u»y «*»• anddally re parwore and th. n.wei«l»r. urewreiraaare — »Mdily treng fonwd to aa wl'<pt>oo of ■ arendanU la brMf tb. uawp» par at U» ire»- bf rkreoo of it. lac« «f oje port unity waa cuo.fwiire to rewrtrt iu rm<lan to matter of pwmanaot wliwwtlooa» ratu. to. a.w«pe<"« “« orreml tnrough Ita repreatoodarre of CM"«“11! “ “» ofteu uaiaina tt. raadre. out (X all enowt vtg, at « rare tor adwrauoanl Mandan»*- TbaLretary THE IIUXGER STRIKE. GRIM DETERMINATION OF POLITICAL PRISONERS IN RUSSIA. They Wanted Permission to Work, to Re ceive Food from the Outside, to Read and to Go to Church—Victory Secured at Last. The following morning—it was July 3—all the prisoners of the "right solitary” refused to eat their food. When the warders, at the order of the director, o[»eiied the cells at 3 o’clock ill the afternoon they found the food, placed th« re in the morning, untouched. Au excellent sup|ier, consisting of fragrant bouillon, delicious roast beef ami filming tea and cakes—food the prisoners had already for gotten the taste of—was placed in the cells in the evening, but they wore not to be tempted and took no notice of it. The same night they were joined by the "lefts,” or the occu pants of the “left solitary,” who had by some means learned of their action and of the causes w hich prompted it. Seeing that the prisoners were iu earnest, the director, at midnight, ordered all food and water to lie removed from the «ells. “1'11 make them beg for food," he thought He did not sleep that night. He stole on tiptoe from one wicket hole to another, watching what the prisoners were doing. They lay on their pallets, gazing at the ceiling, or talking to r ich other by knocks, and in the twilight of the cells their bodies reminded the director of hobgoblins. Grim silence prevailed hi the corridor. Early in the forenoon a delicious breakfast was brought into the cells, but the prisoners exhibited no desire to eat it, and it was taken back to the kitchen. At noon a luxurious dinner was served, ami although it remained uutouche«', it occurred to the director to leave it all day in the cells. The voluntary sutTeivi’s thre.v th«» food into the “parashkas." In the evening the same story was refloated, with the same result. The director ordered Mishkin, Alexandroff and Cicianoff to lie brought from the "karrer” back to their cells, hoping to reconcile the prisoners, and that the three men, touched by their |>ardon, would try and [lersuade the others to give up their dangerous undertaking, but he found be had made a mistake—Mishkin, as well as Cicianoff and zViexandroff, joined their fel low prisoners. At a late hour of the second night the di rector, aec<>mpHiii«‘d by the prison physician, went fr »in cell to cell, begging ami suppli cating the prisoners to «»at, reminding them of their homes, fathers, mothers, relatives and friends, to whom they might soon re turn, apologising for the rudeness he had dis played whuii overzeal« > uh in the |»erformun<'e of his duties, mid explaining that he was merely a subonlinate official who had to oliey the orders from those almve him. At all the cells the director received the same laconic reply, “Grant what we are asking.” In the forenoon of the tliir<l day the pris oners were all led into th«» yard, where the common prisoners and soldiers sat around large tables eating and drinking. The direc tor thought that the sight of |»ersons eating would induce the hungry to take fisxl, but they di<l nothing of the kind, and were taken buck to their cells. Outside the prison walls nothing was known of all th«*«« horrors. The direct« r gave strict orders to all soldiers and warders to keep their mouths shut, and, fear ing his wrath, they carried out his orders to the letter. The serious character of the airair so frightened the director that in the morn ing of the fourth day he dismissed all the warders whose insolence hud displeased the prisoners, and gave orders to their successors to lx» us [>olite mid gentle ux [tosiiible. Again mid again be visited the cells, humiliating himself before those whom he formerly truuUsl as IxAasts, and conjuring them to oat and to live for the sake of their relatives and friends, but hh> efforts were of no avail. In the e» Tiling of the fourth day the prison priest, a low lived hy[»orrite, went with a large crois in his arms from cell to cell, sup plicating the prisoners to eat, in the name of G<si, but his prayers and entreaties received no attention from the half d«*ad sufferers. Their condition that night was of a most de priving nature. Most of them could no longer stand on their feet; some fainted, others raved i*onstantly, an I sjieeial warders had to watch at their beds all night in order to prevent their sudden expiration. The director did not sleep all night. Tbe physi cian and bis asNistants had never had such a busy time Isffore. Fifty-eight men were ap|»arently dying slowly from voluntary starvation. Tiiey touched nothing but water, and some also atNtained even from this. The «aine night a conference, preside« 1 over by tbe director, and attended by the [»hysi- rian, tbe pri<»Mt, the officers of the garrison mid the bead warders, was held at ths prison office. The director deliver«*! a mournful B|*eeeh, saying that he was tired of the duties of his office, that his ofli« e would kill biin la a few years, ami that he was ready to resign if bis resignation would be acfwjjted. “But what Is U> l«e done now/” he axclaimed, dm- matically. “1 cannot grant their demand«, it’s la’.vond my ¡xiwer to «io it. Up b» ths prevent time ! still hof»ed tlie fellows would change their minds or br«-nk down an«i lx*gin to eat. For this reason I intended not to let the governor know of this h«»rribie affair But now I ace they are in earn«*Mt They ara determined to die. 1 don’t want b» be solely rexponsibie for their deaths, and 1 think it’s time to report everything b» the governor ami let him act a* he thinks best.** All agreed tltat no other course was ¡«oasi ble aader tlie circumstances, ami a nqxjrt was got up and forwarded immediately to the governor of KharkolT. On the sixth day of the famine July b Conm-ilor Homntxeff, a<tfMHnpahied by tlie chief doKor of tlie province, arrived at the “centralka.** They, too, began by exh«/rting the [rrisonera bjtake ««»me mairiBhment. Acnompanied by tlie difWtor ami the prison physn lan, they went from cell bi cell, arguing, liegghig end threatening, lait their efforU w.-re as useless a« tha»e of tlie dirwtor and his amistants. On the seventh «lay tl»e priwai was visitai by a niimler of genemls and tlie pr«M*ursur, or attfwney general, of the province. Tliey received the same calejpwtell reply; “Grant tmr «Wt.vaml*. ' He. ing that mXhing could shaka Ute raw.lut km of the prisoners, and fearing to wait any longer, the governor ord* rwi U m «lire. b»r to capitulate that is, to ¡«omise to fulfill ail their demanda As tie* prisoners ba.1 no faith in pr »misee of RussiaJ* g</verume»it «»ftiHab, I.Mith the gov ernor ami the director bad b> sign a paper obliging themselves to permit tba ¡»ohUcal pneiners to w>»rk, rwelve f«xjd from the ««Hauls, Vf road all tie* books permitted by the state censor, to visit the prison church on a Humlay uainsd by them. etc. Thus, ou the eighth day <^f the famine-July 10 -Che prie- ouers usee again took food.*-*111« bacl Malkoff hi Chicago howa Wk««t th. a..*.. I. Kleh- —Mtr. ? alway« alm to Ull th. truth," re- (narkwi a pobtk-ian wU> waa la a Brtnul yrwt *!■<« UM night, and wbuaa «aracity 0*1 Iren tni|iuxoed. n»« n»y U> IriHi," waa th. qub h rUiwt. 'Irat )u»*ica «wup^a the Urerraibia that A DIPLOMAT’S DINNER, A 1*1»in and Cheap Uanquet Where Every- b'Mly Was Extremely Well I* I eased. Some yearn ago an acoompliithed diplo mat© at Washington, the representative of a power not of the first importance, expressed his regi«‘t to a fri«*nd that he could not give dinners, “because,” he said, “mv government is poor, and I cannot afford it.” The conversation oc curred at the profuse and splendid table of a rich and courteous host, whose feasts were of great fame, and whose invita tions w«‘i e credentials of admission to the best society. A young diplomatic cctn- rade who sat by heard the remark, and smiled as he said: "My government is poorer than yours, and 1 um but lately arrived. But what is diplomacy without dinners? and I am going to give one. It will not be like this, but the splendor is not an essential [»art of the feast. 1 shall give a plain and ( heap dinner, to which I invite you ix>th.’’ His manner was gay, and bis in vita tion was gayly and gladly accepted b«u cans«» he was one >f the delightful ui» n in Washington. 11 is colleague, however, who had spoken first, shrugged tus shoulders, and said that, fot his ¡»art. be couhln’t doit; he couldn’t ask |>eople to come to his house and eat a poor dinner. ••N«»t so fast. ’ replied his friend; “I didn't sav a [M«>r dinner, but a [»lain and cheap dinner. 1 ho[>e it will be go«»d, nevertheless, although there may lie no baked carp or stewed nightingalea* ton gut's. But come and see. ” The young minister of the small and poor kingdom was one of tho most ac complished men in Washington He waa known to have connected a justice of the Biipremo court in regard to a decision of u United Stub's court in a western state, and to have made tho correction in Eng lish, which was a foreign tongue to him, hut in English ho exquisitely chosen and urbanely expressed that tho justice was probably unconscious of th«* mortification of tho correction. The young minister had no foolish, fond reserves. “My gov ernment is [Mxir, I am [xxir, we uro all poor m my country.” he said, “und I and my w'eretary work like duy laborers here in Washington to ne<pure and to re- port n«vess;iry information to my gov ernment.’’ I’ut nobody was m<»re sought; there was nolxaly whose coming more surely brought pleasure to any circle than that of tho young minister. Tho duy of the dinner came, and a plainer ami pleasanter dinm-r was never known in Washington. Every guest, from tho seen tary of state ami die Eng lish envoy to ail their neighljors ut table, gave every week, intk'ed, repasts much more magnificent. But the simple din ner, admirably cooked and served, with out display of tab!«* w*rvicc, without the carp and nightingales' tongues, but with the enlivening und inspiring charm of the ho*t and tho welcome variety of plainness, Utter th«» luxurious extrava gance and ostentation of the usual din ner. was ho fn*sh and delightful that the HutiNfaclion and pleasure were universal, and the skeptical colleague who had thought great coat es«entim to u succe«- ful dinner owned hiinflelf converted, and the next month ventured u ] m > ii a similar feast, uni with the same success.— George William Curtis in Haqier's Muga zine. Lifting h Thousand round«. To lift 1.000 pound* on the health lift Is no very remarkable feat for u jtereon <>f average strength, giving sufficient thm daily for a few month* to practice. Mr lllaikie learned in this way at the ag < f 17. to lift I 000 [»ounde after only hix months' practice. Tliono who pref r to lift an actually mcaauied weight will find it necetwary to adopt Nome such plan a* wan employed by Topham. preparing a framework to Iwur the weight and standing in iln midst, ho aa to lift the weight by mean* of Hymnit tricaJly at* tachvd BtrajiH. F< r the body cannot. wh<*u at all aslant, I»*ar tiuch a weight ua 1,000 | h mnd*. Whether such exercize in good for the body uh a whol • depend© a good deal on the oppurtunitiee which a num has for correcting an abnormal development of th- lifting m uncles by meana of other ex ert ¡nos, increasing the development of other iuimc I m and giving activity an well qh strength to the frame.—Richard A. Proctor. Georgia'» and < Irrassian. Th© Georgian lias a beauty quit© differ ent from that of the Cifcaarian. TheCir« caaMian is dazzling, queen lik< an«I stately. She I ihh a fuir skin. Hho is elegant in form She 1« kindly an<l gentle in voice, but lazy in movi»rnent an«l without spirit. Onp of her own sex ban an id : ‘‘There is no »u»uI in a CuTHtehin beauty; und as she pillow s lier pur«*, jmle dieek uixin her small dimphxi hand, you fw»l no inclina tion to arouwe her into exertion; you are contented to look upon her and to con- template her 1«>veiln«*«*».” The Georgian i* • creature with ovea like meteors and teeth almout ax dazzling ns her eyes. Her mouth d««vi not w« ar tlie sweet and un ceasing Hinde of her teas vivacious rival. But the prom I expremion that sits U|»on finely arched lips areorda so well with her stately form and lofty brow that you do not seek to change ila character.— Ilorno Journal. Origin »»i < olor Ullndnrss. Ths'it the origin of color blindncMi lie© in the brain, and not in th© eye. has beM MggcNted by Pr<»fí*^or Ramsay. Whil© engxgtd in teaching in Brooklyn some years ago. tlie prm«*i[sd of a school in- Misted hi tr'iiting ev» ry case of the sort as dependent on tlu* will of th© pupil. His remedy waa tl>© rod. This certainly leemel a tyrannical and unwarranted treatment, but the result WHH favor a bio to his tlMXjry. Is it MMaihl© that a thor ough examination will ultimately demon strate that tlie fault lies very largely in the hhiftD-Ms methorls of obaervatfaMl which liave grown up under tlie old classical sysU’in of education, and which have U>a large extent tacuoi© hereditary? —Science. IhK r.mteet l«»iM»ry of Vodla. AU kiivhof oremivl. of brown Migar, many of 1| m M inoldwl into varuxt. of I4r*l< and l^aatn. Tul«-, al-' ar» iiuab-, filled with honey, and tainted into iiui 'Ux fortn*. Then there ara bull, of augar and < luriUed but- Ur. Tlu-w oonfectioo. riea are writ and . i . » re»« • *• - •«•