- young man who belonged to the theater Jeanne in his arms. ‘ to a rush of color to her cheeks. BETWEEN THE ACTS. BX M. BLOWITZ. It was in 1870 when war had just been declared. MacMahon had received orders to cross the frontier, and strike a decided blow against the combined armies of North and South Germany. In ’Paris, as indeed throughout the whole of France, everyone was in a state of feverish anxiety; but in the gay capital, the Parisians endeavored to make the days of suspense pass more ' quickly by feting the expected victory. "' One could hear the clinking of glasses at the out-door restaurants, the music of the cafes-chantants, and the car- riages filed incessantly along the broad avenue of the Champs Elysees. The theaters, too, were well patron— ized, particularly one on the boulevards a certain evening when Mlle. Jeanne de Bolney was to make her debut. The papers had foretold a most bril- liant success for the beautiful young actress, who was so marvelously gifted, and who would no doubt become the star of the season. She had chosen for her debut “La Dame aux Camelias,” which was at that time in the height of its popularity, and the author himself had said that the role of Marguerite might have been written for this tal- ented young actress, so admirablydid it suit her in every" respect. From the very first act it was quite evident that her beauty and her talent had not been overrated. . The sight of her even had won all hearts. A faultless figure, a delicate, refined face, with lips which were at cnce proud and tender, eyes of deep blue with the most frank expression, a perfectly shaped head, and a carriage ,- which would have done honor to any queen. At the sight of this exquisite creature a murmur of approbation ran through he house and interrupted, for a few seconds, the dialogue. At the end of each scenethe ovations increased, and after the' second act there was a perfect explosion of ap- plause. Among those who were most delighted at Jeanne’s triumph was :1 ——Louis Belcourt. It was through his influence that she had succeeded in making her debut, for the manager of this theater always preferred pupils from the Conservatoire. . Louis had knOWn and loved Jeanne from boyhood, and there was some- thing infinitely noble and touching in this devoted yet hopeless love. it was, indeed, of a kind rarely seen in any man, for it had not blinded him, and he could see and admire the good quali— ties of his rival—the man to whom Jeanne had given all her love. It. had been very romantlc, the en- gagement of the beautiful young ac- tress. A short time before, at the Long— champs races, she had been glancing at the grand stand, where Napoleon III. and the ladies of the court were seated, when suddenly she became aware of two handsome dark eyes fixed upon her. She looked away, but, as though fas- cinated, a few minutes later she glanced again at the place behind the court ladies and she saw a military. looking man, whose face Was bronzcd by the southern sun, and who had risen fr om his seat and was gazing earnestly at her, as though he, too, were fascinat« ed by some spell. Not. long after, Roger de Morfeuille, officer in the emperor’s regiment, had dis-covered who Jeanne was. It was an extraordinary engagement; no word of the future had been spoken between them. Roger knew that he would have to leave, for war had been declared, ' and that until the result of that war ‘ should be known he could promise noth- ing. The subject. of the future- was not even broached between them. Jeanne knew only that their path in life must be together; she felt that it must be so, and there was no need for- words. Only when the terrible parting came, when Roger had to leave to join his regiment, he slipped a. ring he al- ways wore on her finger and took from hers one for himself, and still no words were spoken as to the future. After the second act of the “Dame aux Camelias,” when the curtain had been lowered for the sixth time, and Jeanne had for the sixth time answered to the enthusiastic recalls, she went slowly up to her room. She felt overwhelmed; perhaps it was the excess of happiness at her good fortune which weighed on her like this. Roger knew that it was the day of her debut; she felt certain that, even amid the smoke of the battle- field, he would not forgetit. She hardly dared own it even to herself, but all day she had expected some little souve- nir from him, some sign or word of sympathy; for was she not, too, fight- ing a. battle, one of those battles which decided the life of individuals just as much as his did that of nations? On opening her dressing-room door a. flash of mingled triumph, love and pride came over her as. she caught sight of a telegram on her table. ' She closed her door quickly, not no- ticing that Louis Belcourt was follow- ing her quietly along the corridor. Suddenly, through the thick doors and curtains, in the silence of the empty corridor, Belcourt heard a fearful cry. . It was so wild and passionate that a shiver ran through him. He opened the door and was just in time to catch She was livid with . horror and was clutching the fatal tele- ' gram in her hands. Just as he was wondering what to do for the best, Jeanne’s pallor gave way - She read the telegram to him: “We have been defeated at Woerth. They are tak- ing me to a house near by. Amputation prdbable. Pray for me. My love, dar- ing‘.——Roger.” Belcourt glanced at the telegram and saw that it was unintelli~ , gible, buta kind of alphabet on the table showed him'th'at it had been written by signs agreed. upon. ‘ He stood as though thunderstruck. Suddenly Jeanne put on a hat and threw I W l a long brown cloak over her stage dress. “What are you going‘to do ?” he ex- claimed. ‘ “I am going to Roger.” “But, in heaven’s name, Jeanne, stay a little while. The curtain will be going up. Think what you are doing. You will be ruined—you will spoil your whole life. Wait till to-morrow!” “Listen,” said Jeanne, in a clear, de- cided tone. “It is now a quarter toten. I know there is a. train from the Gare de l’Est at 1; -,for I have sent my letters by a friend ‘ . l“Roger’s who is going by it. If you prevent my going by that train, you see this dagger; well, I will kill myself with it!” , Louis stepped back, dazed and hor- ror-struck. Jeanne opened the door. went quickly out by a back door and Louis followed her, watched her hail a cab and drive away. When Belcourt reentered the theater he found everyone behind the scenes in a terrible state of excitement. Mlle. de Bolney could not be found. The house was impatient and the man- ager desperate. He was sending for the police, that she might. be found and arrested. Suddenly Belcourt, at the idea of the possible consequences of Jéanne’s flight, determined on a bold move. He stepped up to one of his friends who had been taking part in the play, whispered to him and appeared to be begging him to consent to what he had asked. Finally the friend yielded, opened the door and walked towards the stage. Then Belcourt, pushing away the di- rector and stage manageigwho attempt- ed to stop him, gave the signal to lift the curtain and appeared himself be- fore the house. A deep silence ensued. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Bel- court, “Mlle. de Bolney has received a telegram announcing that there has been a disaster on the German frontier and our army has sustained a defeat. She is overwhelmed by the news, and we must ask you to have patience until she feels able to continue her role.” A dismal silence followed these words. Belcount’s friend now stepped forward and executed the order he had re‘ ceived: “We, too, are surely as good patriots as Mlle. de Bolney! Surely, the play ought not to be finished before a French . audience, who has just heard that our army is defeated!” Cries of “Bravo!” were heard, and unanimously the whole house rose and prepared to leave the theater. Belcourt had saved the honor of Jeanne and of the theater. The rumor of the defeat of Reich- shoffen, which the government was keeping secret, was soon spread abroad in Paris by the spectators who had heard it from Belcourt, and the news caused a fearful calm in the gay capi— tal. ‘ Belcourt had been congratulated by all the authorities of. the theater on his happy idea, but just as he was prepar- in g to leave the theater thatsame night he was seized ‘by a police oflicial and conducted to the Mazas prison on a charge of “having divulged a state se- cret,” a crime always punished at least by hard labor, and in time of war by death. For more than a month Belcourt had been in Mazras prison, with nothing to look forward to but dishonor or death. He had been questioned over and over again as to how he had discovered the secret, but in vain; nothing could in- duce him to give any details, for he did not know whether Jeanne would for- ‘ give him for having said so much as he had; The next day sentence was to be passed upon him. Successive defeats had embittered the minds of his judges, and it was pretty 1 sure that he had little chance of getting 5 off without paying the full penalty of his crime. Belcourt was thinking sadly of his hopeless love for Jeanne which had caused him to act as he had done in order to save her, when suddenly the door of his cell opened and the porter announced: “Mme. the Countess de Morfeuille.” It was Jeanne herself, dressed in the deepest mourning. Her beautiful hair had some silvery threads, her face was cold and severe as marble, her beautiful mouth was rigid, her eyes seemed to be gazing at some invisible object, and she had a. deathly pallor—sueh as one sees on the faces of those who have received some mortal wound. , It was pathetic to see‘so fair and so young a girl in such hopeless despair, and Belcourt was deeply touched by it. “You are free, Louis,” she said, gently but sadly. “The empress herself has asked for your release. Thank you so much, my friend, for all you did for me. I came directly I heard of your lmpl'lS° onment. My husband had only just been brought home and buried at Mor- feuille.” Very soon after, Jeanne returned to her husband’s stately home, that she might visit daily the tomb of him she had so dearly loved and who had mar‘ ried her on his deathbed. When Louis had tried to console her and gently hinted that. she was too young to go through the rest of her life alone she had answered, decidedly: “Do not ever speak to me of anyone else. I will live and die the widow of Roger, and will certainly never be any- one else’s wife.” . It was thus,that a great artiste was lost "to the French stage, but the mem- ory of that debut will never be lost to any of those who witnessed it.——From the French, in Strand Magazine. Could Hear. Hans has climbed up into the cherry tree to gather cherries. Meantime a storm came on and the father called out to the lad: .. .. “Come down, Hans, it is beginning to thunder.” “There is no need, father,” shouted the boy. “I can hear it where I am.”- Illustrirte Chronik. —The instinct of brutes and insects can be the effect of nothing else than the wisdom and skill of a powerful, ever- living agent—Newton. , BATTLE or GERMSf How the Infusorian Attacks and Devours Its Prey. '_. Its Slngular Method of Multlplylng Itse --'l‘hc Wonders of a Drop of Water as Revealed by a Powerful Microscope. To the ordinary mortal, a drop of water is what the primrose was ~to Peter Bell, a drop of water and noth- ing more; but to the student of nature, armed with a high-power microscope, it immediately becomes a. world teem- ing with living creatures, the most minute representatives of animal life. These thoughts were suggested by reading-Prof. Grace’s description of a battle he once witnessed while exam: ining a collection of rotifers, which 'I were amassed in a single drop of fresh water. Among others, Mr. Grace no- ticed a fine specimen of infusorian, which was swimming back and forth among the rotifers, as if intent on mis- chief. On the following day it was E EKLSY'I- no R w Ann, QGIAIZ’ETTE— ty and then spring 03 and Seize a leg and pull it almost from its socket. .Mr. Grace says that he watched this une- qual combat for nearly half an hour, wfien it was noticed that the rotifer was. dying from exhaustion. Noting the death of his victim the infusorian proceeded to devour his prey as he doubtless had done the others that were missing. examined a small body of water, con- sisting of four drops. in which there were several infusorians and rotifers. The former proved the enemies of the latter, Just as in the single drop pre- viously examined. It was also noticed that the infusoria, having devoured a victim, would almost immediately di- vide into two or four new animals, each of which would quickly swim away in search of prey, just as its parent had done before—St. Louis Republic. Will an lndlan Work? MM: Ever since the white man and the Indian came together in what is now the United States, the effort has been made by the white man, in the inter- vals of his hostilities with the Indians, to induce the latter to work. “Farmer” Mr. Grace next, ‘ noticed that the rotifer colony had lost several of its members, and that the infusorian’s form had rounded out . until he resembled a miniature St. Louis bartender. Mr. Grace now re- solved to watch the infusorian’s move- ments and ascertain. if possible. the modus operandi whereby the capture of such expert swimmers as the rotifers are known to be was ef- feeted. Afew minutes’ wait sufiiced. Soon it was noticed that the infusorian was slowly and continuously working his way around the foot of a rotifer, which was resting on the glass slide. Around and around he went as slyly as a mouse in an oats bin, and when he had finished it was noticed that the rotifer‘s foot was firmly cemented to the glass. Theinfusorian, seeming to know that his victim was secure, be- gan to goad the tethered creature and torment it in all the ways that devilish ingenuity could suggest. He would jump upon its back and bite it in sev- eral places with lightning-like rapidi- to the Indians is as old an office as In- dian agent and missionary. Not an Indian tribe has passed away without first being supplied with work cattle, plows, barrows, wagons and so on, wherewith to prosecute the calling of farmer. The Indian tradition, com- mon to many tribes, that the Great Spirit gave in the beginning to the white, black and red man whom he created, respectively, a. book. a hoe and a bow and arrows, is still be- lieved. The Indian will be a. warrior, ahunter andaloafer, but he will not be a laborer in the “white” sense of the word. He will drink the white man’s drink; he will learn to gamble with the white man’s cards, but he will not‘ work with the white man’s tools. —Kansas City Star. ; The largest experimental apple or- chard in the world is at Farmindale, Ill. It is owned by Benjamin Bu'cknan, and contains 550 named varieties of apples. m Tobacco ALWAYS STANDARD “It Saves Her 5 ‘ MuCh Scrubbing” “ I have used "”31 [vorine WASHING POWDER for a long time, and find it a perfect washing powder. At house cleaning time it saves me much hard scrubbing. I would not be without it." MRS. F. WARNER, Crompton, R. I. THE J. B. WILLIAMS 60., Glastonbury, Conn. Makers of Williams’ Famous Shawng Soaps. WM“ of Choice Premiums sent Free upon Request. " .13. 77" 5. - egg-19.33.10; °i§323£v015137f2i§m ° A choice cake of Olive Oil Soap will be foundin each pack- age of IVORINE ' THE NAME 01'" TEE NEZ': . OF THE . . PRESIDENT! UNITED STATES WILL BE‘ANNOUNCED [N i vadflftaa Weekly Tribune, 'OF NOVEMBER 4. l896. Public interest will steadily increase, and the disappointment of the men whose votes turned the scale at the last election. With the results under the administration they elected. will make the campaign the most intensely excttmg m the history of “’e °°““”TYHA :7va YORK WEEKLY TRIBUNE, the leading Republican family newspaper of the United Staten will publish all the poli news of the day, interesting to every american citizrm regardless of political atfiliations. . . . . . the Also eueral news in attractive firm. forelzu Qorrespmdence covering the news_of world. at? agricultural department second to_ none in the country, mirket reports which ahre recognized authoritv. fascinating Short stories. co-nolete in each number. the cream of t a ho norm; :1 ers. foreign and domestic,with their best comic pic was. fa~hion plates and elaborate dgsclf'iptions of woman’s attire, With a. varied and attractive apartment of household interest. The “ New York Weekly Tribune” 1.5 an ideal tamny pan 3r? With a. circulation larger than that of any other weekly publicati m in the countryuseued . mm the office of. a. daily. Large changes are being made in its details. ten line to give 1': greater lite and variety. and especially more interest to the women and young people of the househol A SPESIAL CONTRACT enables us to 0116: this splendid journal and “ THE WEEKLY GAZETTE" for . -‘ ONE YEAR FOR ONLY $ I .03. fifffl-éiz‘. . (The regular subscription price of the two papers is 32.00.) SUBSCRIPTIONS. MAY BET-ll}! AI‘ AYY TIME. Annunss ALL Qantas to T313 GAZETTE Write your name and address on a poszal card, send it to Geo. W. Best. Room 2 Tribune Building. New York City, anl a. sample copy of THE NEW YOBK W EEKLY TRIBUNE will be mailed to you. '6' A' FRAME The Nurwalk Fire Insurance Us THE HAIR. “CUTTER mammal... .. 32d SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS YEAR, , And has not. outstanding .a. dollar“ of unnai l losses or claims for losses. No sound com any insmms for Less Beavang Pram; G. B. Sr. Joan. as... .Gno.R Cowms. Sec'v. A No. 1 Gazette Building, Norwalk . TreatI HOT AND COLD BATES TELL ‘ME' so. If you love me, tell me so, \Vait not till the summer glow Fades in autumn's changcful light, Amber clouds and purple night; I Wait not till the winter hours Heap with snowdrifts all the flowers, Till the tide of life runs low- If you love me, tell me so. . .‘i If you love me. tell me 50, While the river’s dreamy flow Holds the love-enchanted hours. Steeped in music, crowned with flowers; Ere the summer’s vibrant days Vanish in the opal haze; Ere is hushed the music flow— If you love me, tell me so. a: , ‘ .-. If you love me, tell me so, . Let me hear the sweet words low! Let me now, while life is fair, , Feel your kisses on my hair; . While in womanhood's first bloom, ‘ Ere shall come dark days of gloom, In the first fresh dawning glow— If you love me, tell me so. —Lilian Whiting, in Atlanta Constitu~ tion. . ‘ A SUBURBAN MYSTERY. The purpose of this story is to clear up a suburban mystery and provide the last chapter which is to set at rest all speculation. For more than two years the resi- dents of Morton’s Grove have been guessing at the cause of the tracks, and if they have not guessed correctly it is no discredit to them. It was two years ago this last Febru- ary, and on a certain evening toward the end of the month that amoist snow of big, lazy flakes began to fall upon the suburb of Morton’s Grove. There was hardly a breath of wind, and the snow sifted itself evenly and clung wherever it touched. There were but few trees in Morton's Grove. In the christening of the sub- urb the real estate Napoleon had an- :icipated that period when all the shrubs and swaches would have their growth. Thereforethe snow did not lose itself in tangled boughs, but. settled peace~ fully on broad levels of lawn and steep pitches of roof. Except where a wall or fence stood bolt upright there was an'unbroken mantle of white. Sven every picket wore a plume and every fence-board a ruff. The snowfall eased at 11 o’clock, and by that time Morton’s Grove was al- most hushed for the night. The big wooden houxc-s stood spaciously apart and were darker and more fantastic than ever against the white. One by one the windows winked themselves to darkness, and several hundred nice peo- ple slept, not realizing that a mystery was upon them. If reports be true, the second Miss Eaten was the first to see the foot- print-s. She arose very early in the morning to reassure herself that the geraniums were far enough removed from the win- dow and still not too near the base- burner.. She walked to the window and looked across the snow at the dull, sealed houses across the way and the wiry bushes frozen in the front yard. It was the gray of the dawn, and the shapes outside were not distinct, but when her eyes fell to the foreground she saw enough. First she stared in puzzled surprise, and then she moaned and ran to the stove to warm herself, still gaz- ing at the window. No wonder, indeed. This is what she - had seen: Huge footprints, marking the course of a man, undoubtedly, who had come from the street to the very window at which sh" had been standing. That was not the worst of it. The. footprints led from the street to the window. but I there were no foot-prints from the win- dow to the street. ’ What did that mean? It meant that the man had come to the window but had not gone away. He had come through the window into the house! He was in the house at that moment! There was a pit-a-pat of slippered , feet on the stairway, and the second Miss Eaton gave a gasp and, discon— nected account of her discovery to the first. Miss Eaton, who was still in bed. The first Miss Eaton couldn’t under- stand what was meant, but she became . convulsed with fright, merely through sympathy. Christine, the Swedish girl employed as a man-cf-all-work for the maiden la- dies, hcard the noise and came to the rescue. She valorously clad herself and went through the. house from end to end, lifting every coverlct behind which man or boy might have concealed ‘ . himself. There was no man in the house and there was no sign that any man had been there during the night. although Miss Eaton discovered, to her horror, that the snow on the window sill had been disturbed as if by a man crawling in at the window. “What large tracks,” shivered the first Miss Eaton. as she surveyed the. hideous trail across the front yard. “Oh!” The tracks were rather large for a fact. A foot that measures 18 inches from heel to toe goes above any know-n average and is supposed to belong only in burlesque literature. Iiut these were real tracks. The Eaton sisters, or the “Eaton girls” as they were still termed, out of compliment, stood together at the win- dow after breakfast. They saw Mr. Ballard Johnson, who lived in the first house to the east, come along the side- wa‘lk. Occasionally he stopped and shook his head, and then he walked on with his eyes fixed on the snow-covered ground. The Eaton girls rushed to the’ door and the first Miss Eaton shouted: “Oh, Mr. Johnson, have you seen those tracks, too?” He turned, apparently somewhat con- fused, and replied: “Have 1? Why, those tracks lead up to my front win- dow. I thought at first some one had got into the house. Did you ever see a man with feet as big as these tracks ?” “No, but they’re real tracks. What I can’t understand is how the man ever got away again after walking up to our window. My, I’m so scared.” ' 2 . “Well, I’m going to follow these tracks and see where they go to.” ‘ . The first Miss Eaton closed the door, and Mr. John son continued to follow the ‘ trail, leaning forward like an alert In- . dian scout. ‘ ' Mr. Johnson had not proceeded far before he met Mr. Morton, who discov- cred the suburb before the first house - was built. “Are you looking at these tracks ?" in- quired Morton. . “Yes. Have you noticed them?” “They beat anything I ever saw. I traced them up the street from my house a little distance, and all at once they stopped. Come on and I’ll show you.” They followed the big footprints around into Baldwin street and thence over a block to the north, and then sud- denly the trail ended at a place where the snow had been kicked about as if men had scuflled there. ’ i “This is where it started,” said J ohn- son. “Now, let’s see how far we can fol. low it the other way.” They went back along Baldwin street to where the tracks led over to Morton’s house, the same as they had at the Eaton and Johnson places, but strange to say, the trail divided, one set of tracks leading over to Morton’s house, the other continuing south on Baldwin street. , . . At Chester avenue the trail turned toward the Eaton house and continued- to the east, although there was a side trail leading over to the Eaton house and another to Mr. Johnson’s front win- dow. . The two men followed the main line. From Cihcster avenue it turned into Miller street and came to an abrupt - end near the Methodist church. There were other tracks of ordinary size to be seen, but at the point where the trail ended the man with the giant feet Had evidently gone up into the air. The snow was badly kicked about. Perhaps there had been another struggle. “According to the size of his feet,” observed Mr. Morton, thoughtfully, “that man should have been 14 feet high. What do you think of it?” “I simply give it up,” said Mr. John— son. “I never in all my life ran across anything like it. These are real tracks. You can see the marks of the nails and the print of the heel. But they begin nowhere and end nowhere. Here’s a single trail and suddenly it splits into two trails going in different directions. One set of tracks goes right up to a window, and yet there’s nothing to show that the man turned around and came back. He didn’t go in the window. though. Now what the—” “Don’t ask me,” said Mr. Morton. At the station that morning the men talked of the strange tracks and not one could explain them except by bring- ing in a. supernatural agent. And they never did find out. And now for the solution of this story of mystery. Bertrand Thompson, one of the livelier spirits of the quiet suburb, had lbcen to town on the evening of the snowfall. At a small free-and-easy club .which he often visited he had become acquainted with a well-known min- strel performer. The minstrel gave Thompson a pair of huge shoes such as , are often worn in burlesque pieces. He ‘had promised them to Thompson long before and on this evening he brought them to the club. Thempso-n reached Morton’s Grove on the last night train. He started for home, the shoes wrapped up under his arm. The snowfall had ceased and it was a clear night. He had taken a few drinks and was in an imaginative and 'creative state of mind. He. saw the ' unmarked snow and it occurred to him that. it might surprise people in the morning if they saw tracks 18 inches long. He leaned against a- fence and changed his shoes after some difficulty . and the-n marched homeward. . I When he came in front of Morton's house a brilliant idea. came to him. He i walked over to the front window of the ‘house and then with extreme. caution f backed his way out to the street again, ; taking care to put the big shoes back in the footprints already made. Then he took up his homeward jour- ney again, but he. thought of the Eaton girls, so he favored them with a special set of footprints, and afterward did as ' much for Mr. Johnson, whom be dis— liked very much. When he reached the Methodist church corner he realized that he might be tracked to his home, so he charged' ' shoes again,‘ with a great deal of Lop- ping around in the snow to keep from losing his balance while he was stand- ing on one foot. - When he learned how successful his experiment. had been he kept quiet, and allowed the tale of the monster foot- prints -to become a suburban classic.— Chicago Record. THE UNDER EARTH. Man’s Dependence Upon Products 130-- neath the Surface. So slow was the advance in the util- ization of the earth’s products' that when our ancestors first came to this country there were not more. than about 20 substances other than building stones or gems which were won to com- merce from the under earth. These were scantily used; the amount of iron required per capita each year probably did not exceed five pounds, and the amount of coal consumed was even less. At present the annual consump- tion of iron in this country amounts to about 250 pounds, and of coal to more than 1% tons per head. The num- ber of earth materials and their im- mediate products which enter into the arts is to be reckoned by the hun- dreds; each year the number augments ' with surprising rapidity. Measured by the quantity of the materials won from the depths, the civilized man to-day, as compared with his ancestors in the time of Queen Elizabeth, has increased his dependence on the under earth by not less than 50 fold—Prof. N. S. , Shalcr, Sc. D., in Chautauquan. ‘ o
Norwalk Chronicler