Norwalk gazette, Friday, July 16, 1897 · page 10

 

 

A JUST INSTINCT.

EVERETT HOLBROOK.

 

Fate was a cat, and Leonard Hen

' rick was a mouse. There had been
some rare sport, but Herrick was oi

the Opinion that it could not last much

longer. He had run this way and that

way, and a thousand times he had fan-

cied that the velvet paws, with the

long, sharp claws springing out of

them, had caught him just in time. S:

at last he lay still panting, not know-
ing which way to turn.

He was in a big city, all alone. The
people who rushed by him were like
the thoughts that whirled through his
brain—they were shadows, and the
everlasting train of them had no be
ginning or end. He could not distin-
guish the real men and women whom
he saw from those whom he
merely remembered. New :21; again
there appeared in the throng the faces
of the dead. He did not mind those.
But there were others tl at he shrank
from.

He stood with his back against the
iron fence in front of Trinity church.

Herrick's hands were in his pock-
ets. He crumpled a crackling piece
of paper, which meant that he could
live several days longer if he cared to
do so. As to' a more extended future,
he could not picture it. All the lines
of his life seemed to end in a knot
which could by no means be untied,
but must merely be dropped. He rt-
membered that there were miracles,
but he could not think of one to wish
for. .

He crossed Broadway and walked
down Wall street, slowly and with hes-
itation, for he had no errand. A voice
cried, “Cab, sir!” almost in his car.
He turned and looked up at the man
on the box. .

“Is it possible,” he said to himself,
“that I still look like a gentleman?"

He felt toward the cabman as toward
. one who had given him a helping
hand. Why not pay the debt? To do
so would cost him only a day of his
life. He had a five dollar bill in izis
pocket.

“Yes,” he said. “Take me up to the
Fifth Avenue hotel.”

It was the first place that had come
into his mind. He got into the cab
and snapped the door. The cushioned
seat and the comfortable support for
his head were very refreshing. A fan-
cy came to him that he would dine de-
cently and then go to a theatre. The
extravagance would be trifling, for it
was really of small importance
whether he starved to death on Sun-
day or the following Wednesday. He
was in a mood to make a jest of it
all. ' 1 l

A strong glare from an electric light
struck down into the carriage and
made visible to him a package in
brown paper that looked as if it might
be a sandwich. The object protruded
from under the seat. He thonght it
must be the cabman’s supper which
had been hidden in some small locker
and had fallen upon the floor. The
idea that the food should be spoiled
was disagreeable to Herrick, and so he
picked up the little brown bundle.

It was smaller than he had supposed,
and it did not feel like bread. But
had it been food, and he at the last
pang of starvation, the touch of it
would not have sent such a thrill
through: all his frame.

He knew that the contents of that
. package was money. It felt like a mass
of bills folded, awkwardly wrapped
up and fastened with elastic bands.
Through the brown covering Herrick
could feel the crispness of the govern-
ment paper. The amount might be a
poor man‘s monthly wages or a rich
man’s profit on a great transaction.

As to his own conduct in this matter,
Herrick had no doubt whatever. Fate
had thrown this money into his hands,
and fate might takeiit away, but not
if he could hold on tightly enough.
His fingers trembled as he picked at
the elastic bands. Suddenly and with-
out his knowing why the rubber
strings vanished with a loud snap that
'startled him, and the package sprang
open on his knees. He caught a flash
of green color, and then the cab rolled
out of light into shadow.

It seemed a long time before
another light struck in upon him. At
the moment when it did so he saw a
face close to the cab door, and he
dodged back, covering the bills with
his hands. But the chance passenger
on the street saw nothing. He was
thinking of his own affairs no doubt
and had no inkling of the strange

thing that passed so close to his eyes.’

Herrick was himself again in a mo-
ment, and he bent forward, eagerly
scanning the bills in his hands and
counting them feverishly. T here were
forty of them and each was of the de-
nomination of $1,000.

Throughout the latter period of the
young man’s misfortunes he had had
substantially but one wish-~to rest.
Rest has many forms, suited to a vast
variety of individual tastes. To Her-
rick in his day dreams it had always
taken the form of travel without care.
All paths lie open for a man who has
forty thousand dollars, and there is no
reason why care should sit behind him
as he rides.

He disposed the notes in his pockets
in the best interests of comfort. and
safety. Then he folded up the brown
paper and pocketed that also, with a
dim consciousness that if it were left
in the cab it might get the driver in-
to trouble. The fellow was honest, no
doubt, and Herrick did not wish that
he should suffer wrong.

How to leave the cab was a question
which concerned him nearly. He did
not wish to confront the driver again,
for there might be an investigation,
and a question of identification might
arise, in which case it would be well
to have the man know as little as pos-

‘ sible of Herrick‘s personal appcarance.
He reflected with satisfaction that the

 

 

spot on Wall street had been rathei

dark.

The cab stopped. suddenly, its path
being blocked by a tangle of vehicles.
Herrick softly put his hand upon the
catch of the door. It yielded noise.
lessly; the door swung open.

Herrick stepped out. Turning back
for an instant, he perceived the cab-
man sitting upon his box in entire un-
consciousness of the fraud that was
being practised upon him. He was
a poor man and doubtless worked hard
for all the money that he received.
Still, it was reckless to attract his at-
tention again, especially so after hav-
ingr left the cab in that strange man
ner.

There was a way to the sidewalk
through the press of vehicles. Hen
rick saw it from the corner of his eye
and was about to take advantge of it.
Instead, to his surprise, he found him-
self turned toward the cabman, and
immediately he heard his own voice
saying,—

“I have decided to get out here. How
much do I owe you?”

The cabman named his price, and
Herrick paid him with a $55 bill which
had been the sum of his Wealth and
the end of it, so far as he could see,
so short a time before. He counted
his change carefully, remembering that
he would probably have to wait until
the next day before he could break
one of the thousands. Enough re
mained to him from the bill for a sup—
per, a bed and a breakfast.

When he had found a restaurant he
ordered a meal and ate it with relish.
It was enchanted food. It was the
fare on the Atlantic liner, the delica-
cies of European hotels and the fruits
of the tropics.

He cared little for his bed. It would
be no more than a place to lie and
think of the future. It was many a
night since he had really slept. Cer-
tainly with so much upon his mind he
would not sleep this night, even if he
should try. So when he had been
shown to his room in a. hotel he piled
his pillows against the headboard of
the bed and reclined against them,
fully dressed. He was very happy.
No question of right or wrong in what
he had done or what he expected to do
came to torment him. For a long time
he had borne his life like a tremendous
burden. This had suddenly slipped
from his shoulders. leaving his natu-
ral powers benumbed.

In the midst of his first vision of a
new life he was aroused by a knock-
ing at the door. He started up; his legs
would hardly support him; he had no
voice with which to ask who was
there. But one explanation was possi-
ble. He must have been watched by
the police.

He tottered to the door, and gave ut-
terance to a hoarse, inarticulate sound.

“Eight o’clock, sir!” cried a voice
without. “You asked to be called, sir.”

He rushed to the 'indow and flung

open the shutters. Day streamed in,
strong and beautiful. The gas flame
paled. He knew that he had slept as
he had not slept before in years. In
the mysterious depths of his life he
felt a new strength stirring, but it was
only nascent as yet.

A bath and a breakfast revived him
still more. He felt the exhilaration of
a busy day upon which he was enter-
ing. He scanned the papers, but so
far as he could see they had no news
of the money that had been lost. He
was not conscious of any excitement
in searching for that news. The fear
of detection had quite left him. Of all
stolen gods, money is the hardest to
recover.

His pockets were bulging with
money. but there was something in one
of them that he couldn’t remember to
have put there. He pulled it out and
found it to be the brown paper that
had contained the money. As he held
it in his hand it was concealed by his
newspaper. No fellow passenger could
see it, and it was doubly fortunate, be-
cause in plain sight upon the paper
were the name and address, “Herbert
L. Graham, 40 with street.”

The train was just stopping at Rec-
tor street. That was the station near-
es the steamship oifice. ThruSting the
brown paper back in his pocket, he left
the car and went with the throng down
to the street. He was thinking about
the accommodations he would choose
on the steamer. He continued to think
of that and kindred subjects, yet he
turned north on Broadway instead of
south. Presently he found himself
asking an elevator boy in a big build-
ing if ,he knew where Mr. Graham‘s
office was.

Mr. Graham happened to be in his
outer office when Herrick entered. He
was pouring a story into the ear of an-
other grey haired VV-all street man, and
Herrick heard a few words of it—some-
thing about cabs and cash and care-
lessness.

“I have found the money that you
lost,” said Herrick. “Here it is.”

“Zion!" cried the
the bills in his fingers.
low, tell me all about it."

“There's nothing to tell,” replied the
young man. “I merely found it in the
cab.” ,

Mr. Graham eyed him a moment in
surprise.

“You take it coolly,” he said.

“I couldn’t take it at all.” responded
Herrick, with a feeble smile. "I don’t
know why. It was instinct; I suppose.
My ancestors must have been honest
men.” ‘

“Upon my word, you must take one
of these notes.” said the banker. “I’ve
offered it in an ad., and ”

“I can’t do it,” said Herrick. “I don’t
feel it would be right.”

“But, my dear boy,” exclaimed the
old man, kindly, “I must do something
for you. I want to, believe me. At
least come back and take lunch with
me. Shall we say at 10 o’clock?”

“It will give me great pleasure,” said
Herrick, and, bowing, he turned away
and walked out of the ofiice.——St. Louis
Globe-Democrat.

 

banker, clutching'
“My dear fel- .

LACE JACKETS AGAIN TO BE WORN.

Fancy Collars a Special Feature of Gowns.
Some of Taffeta Finely Tucked.
(By Special Arrangement with the N.Y. Sun.)
The expression s0'often heard, that
some women have a superior way of
wearing their clothes, has a signifi-
cance which is well worth considering,
since the accomplishment can make a
plain gown appear elegant. Change,
too, is a vital thing in the fashionable
world, particularly in summer, and the
more variety we can give to the outfit
the more successfully it will fulfil its
mission. The coat and skirt gowns of
pique, linen duck, and—various woo-l
materials help out this scheme to an
unlimited extent, for no end of changes
can be made with a variety of vests.
Checked taffeta silks, striped across in
the form of a yoke, With narrow vel-
' vet ribbon, make pretty and servicea-
ible vests. but this little accessory of
' dress is constructed out of any old bit
‘ of lace, silk, or chiffon which may be
at hand.

 

 

 

For light weight wool costumes there
is a new style of coat with a blouse
back and close fitting front, well cov-
~ ered with a large collar, rather narrow
. in the back, but wide and extendingto
the bottom in front. Wide collars of
some sort are a special feature of the
new coats, and many of the very latest
gowns, whether they are made with a
icon/t or round waist, quite regardless
lof the kind of material. Very pretty
, collars are of taffeta silk, finely tucked

in groups or closely all over, and to be
, correct the tucks must be in the nar-
. rowest possible width, with a finish on
"the end of tiny side plaifings. The

 

collar, which is narrow front and back,
meeting at the neck band and extend-
ing out over the sleeves in the form of
an epaulette, is especially good style.
. The wide fancy collar is a feature of
the new thin bodices of gauze or chif-
fon, as well as the heavier materials,
and it is sometimes made of the same
thin fabric, shirred full of tiny tucks
or of tulle in some contrasting color,
lined with silk of the color of the bod-
ice. Batiste and muslin gowns of the
daintiest description have the same
style of collar, made of alternate rows
of 'tucks and insertion finished around‘
the edge with a. lace frill, or entirely
; of lace over colored silk. An example
of this in the new shape is shown in

the first illustration, which is a charm-
Ii-ng model for a colored or white or-
igandie or an écru batiste. White or-
I gandie is the material employed in this
’ case, and the new fine Swiss embroid

 

 

 

I cry so popular this season is the trim-
ming, set in two rows of insertion
down either side of the, skirt and in
the bodices and sleeves. Two rufiles
of edging trim the bottom, and the col—
lar of pale green and white shot taf-
feta is covered with the embroidery.
The silk also forms the dress, and the
underdress is of pale green, fine and
sheer.

The underdresses of organdie or very
sheer lawn are trimmed with ruflles at
the bottom, which make the skirts
stand out and preserve the lightness in
effect much better than the silk lin-
lugs.

Lace jackets worn with very thin
gowns are one of the latest novelties,
and the newest form shows a postilion
back.

Cash-mere is coming into vogue
again. Dealers say that its return is
being greeted with enthusiasm. There
never was a more manageable or
graceful material.

 

CHILDREN’S NURSES.

THEY ARE TRAINED FOR THE OCCU-
PATION AND IN GREAT DEMAND.

 

Good Salaries Paid—The Maids Engaged
Ahead of Their Graduation — Not:
Enough to Fill the Many Requests from
Almost Every Country in the World.

In these days, when all fields of
work, especially woman’s work, are
said to be overcrowded, it is a relief
to find one exception. This exception
is the profession of trained nursery
maids, the demand being from fifty to
a hundred per cent greater than the
supply.

“We can graduate about twenty-
three girls a year,” said the Superin-
tendent of the New York Training
School for Nursery Maids, “and we
have applicants for several hundred
during that time. The subject of train-
ing nurses for the care of children is
receiving each year more attention,
and intelligent parents are beginning
to feel that the old idea that any per-
son can mind a baby is about ex-
hausted.

“This training school for nursery
maids is the oldest in the world, and
up to two years ago it was the only
one. The idea, I believe, originated
with Mrs. Robert W. Chapin, who,
owing to some serious mistake of a
nurse, began to think what a good
thing it would be if we could have in-
telligent women with training to care
for our babies. She thought the mat-
ter over, and, selecting the Babies’
Hospital as the most suitable place,
offered to support two or three nurses
for the year if the management would
give her plan a trial. This trial proved
so satisfactory that the school was
founded, and has been enlarged,
though, as I said before, it lacks a
great deal of supplying the demands
for trained nurse maids. Our waiting
list is large, owing to the very limited
number of girls we can accommodate.
An applicant, to be admitted, is re
quired to be not under twenty and not
over thirty, to be perfectly healthy. to
come well recommended, and to have
a good common school education. Un-
der no circumstances do we consider
an applicant where there is a. suspicion
of lung trouble. The reason for this is
perfectly obvious to any one with any
knowledge of the relations between a
baby and its nurse. The applicants
are received on one month’s probation.
and if at the end of that time they
prove satisfactory they finish the
course of six months.

Their wages on leaving the school
are in a measure regulated by us. The
wages paid our graduates on first
leaving us—they are always engaged
several months ahead of their gradua-
tion—are $20 a month. After that
time, of course, their wages depend on
their own efforts, for if a nurse makes
herself valuable a. mother is always
willing to increase the pay to ‘a reason-
able amount. Many of our graduates
receive as much as $50 a month, which
is very good when one takes into con-
sideration the few expenses of a nurse.
She has one of the most desirable
rooms in the house, for the nursery is
always a good room. When the family
travels she goes in the same coachs
Next to their parents, the children love'
and respect her.

“In our training we do not attempt to.
give medical knowledge, for we con-'
sider ‘a little knowledge a dangerous
thing,’ but we seek to make them ca-
pable of taking a. healthy baby and
keeping it healthy. The nurse learns
nursery hygiene in its broadest sense,
with the rudiments of kindergarten.
As a life work for women this profes-
sion seems much to be preferred to
that of a shop or factory girl. ‘We
have applicants for our graduates from
eVery State in the Union and almost
eVery country in the world. Several
of our graduates are abroad now as
nurses in the families of the nobility.
Of course, as I remarked at first, the
demand is greater than the sa‘apply. so
we are forced to answer ." many
time: where we would be only ten glad
to supply a good nursery snail}. 6.);in
a. short while ago we had an applica-
tion from the West Indies, Lin-.1 the
place was an admirable one. but we
had no one to send there. livery girl
graduated up to August is already en-
gaged.

“During the last two years there
have been similar schools founded in
Montreal, Newark, Brooklyn uni lit-
trait. All. of these llistitUl5:.i;is
been modeled after this -
managers 'of one of the
quently visited us, and in :32:
their superintendent to us for
months experience. W’hetu‘vc‘r a new
institution of the kind is projected the
call immediately comes: “Have you
not erme one whom you -"'<'-.‘.i send to
us to organize the work“? We are al-
ways forced to say ‘No.’ ”—Kew York
Sun.

 

i . .‘l 70

 
 
 
 

 

 

That Old Cork Leg.

In the time of the Crimean war a
regiment of infantry was ordered to
a position where some sharp work was
going on.

In the action an Irish soldier named
Thady, Whose father was a second-
hand dealer, happened to get his left
leg blown off just above the knee.

A comrade, seeing him fall, picked
him up, and carried him to a place of
safety.

When asked by an officer if he fell
grieved at the loss of his leg he re-
plied:

“Faith, no, yer honour; for now me
puir old fayther will ,be able to get
rid of the old cork leg that he has had
on his, hands so long."——Auswers.
He—W’hat is the name of your
wheel?

She—Do you mean the name the
maker gives it or the names papa
called it when he fell over it in the

 

Pull night before last:

. attained to the notoriety of their sis-
i fer, Sophie, for she forfeited a king-

 

 

A FAMOUS FAMILY.

FACTS RECALLED BY THE DEATH OF
‘DUCHESS D’ALENCON IN PARIS.

The Great Disaster Marked an Epoch in
the Life ofa woman \Vho Lost a Crown
by Frivolous Flirtatiou — Disappoint-
nlent Caused the. Royal Lover’s suicide.

The death of the Duchess d'.‘-.lencon
in the Paris disaster recalls some in.
teresting facts in the life of this ex-
traordinary woman. She was a
(IaUghter of the Archduke Maximilian
of Zweibruecken-Birkenfcld a side-
line of the royal house of Bavaria.

Besides Sophie, the late DucheSS
d’ Alencon, there are several children
of the Archduke. Maximilian, of whom
Elizabeth, the Empress of Austria, and
Carl Theodor, the famous physician,
oculist, and philanthropist, are the
most widely known. All the children,
however, for some reason or other
have attracted the attention of Europe
at some time.

But neither the Empress of Austria
nor the Archduke Carl Theodor has

dam and on the eve of her marriage
to a King lost the crown because of
her frivilous flirtation with a young
officer. The Princess Sophie was born
in 1847, and at the age of 19 was the
most beautiful woman at the Bavarian
court. Like her sister, the Empress,
she had a magnificent figure, dark
eyes, and black hair. At this time
Ludwig II, was King of Bavaria, be-
in then 21 years of age. The King
was of romantic character. He was
ambitious and idealistic, a great lover
of art, and one of W'agner’s most en-
thusiastic admirers and protectors.
His love of Wagner’s music amounted
almost to a passion. In this the Prin‘ ,
cess Sophie sympathized with the I
King. The common interest in. music '
attracted them to each other, and
son the King become the constant
companion of his cousin. It was not'
long before the Court perceived that!
the King was deeply attached to So—'
phie, and that she seemed to recipro-
cate his affection. The enthusiastic
nature of the King manifested itself
in these days of his first love. He was
extremely happy, and wrote to his
fiancee letters of the deepest tender-
ness and affection. The Princess was
in the habit of turning these letters
over to her father, and through his
carelessness they fell into the hands
of unscrupulous courtiers. One of
them is addressed “To My Dearest
Elsia,” and signed “Lohengrin.”

Great was the preparation made for
the royal nuptiaus. It was the ambi-
tion of the King to make it the great—
est royal wedding of modern times.
He was during all his life most lavish
in his expenditures and a. great lover
of display. His castles are monuments
of prodigality. All Munich was to cel-
ebrate the wedding, and the crowded
heads of Europe were to lend pomp to
the occasion by their presence. While
the preparations were proceeding on a
great scale, the King, without a word
of warning, suddenly left Munich, and,
accompanied by two servants, went to
his castle on Starenberk Lake. Soon af-
terward it was announced that the
King had broken the engagement. At
that time only very few knew the true
reason for the King’s action, and these
few were so nearly concerned in the
shipwreck of royal love that they were
most careful to guard the secret. The
wedding had been set for August 25,
1867, the date which was also the birth-
day of the King. Ludwig, however,
forbade any celebration of the anni—
versary, and spent the entire day in
the solitude of the Bavarian Alps.
Only a few days before he had written
to the Princess Sophie: “I thought I
had your heart, but I know I never
possessed it. You want my hand, but
you care nothing for my heart. My
hand and my throne go only with my
heart. She who is to be my queen
must love me truly. Farewell.”

The rumors which were first whis-
pered as to the cause of this love trag-
edy at the Bavarian Court, have since
the death of the King been proved his-
torial fact. While the King paid his
devotions to the Princess, and while
she simulated afiection for him, she se-
cretly maintained a desperate flirtation
with a handsome young officer named
Hanfstaengl. Young Hanfstaengl was
a son of the Councillor Hanfstaengl,
one of the most versatile artists of Ba‘
varia. So deep was the love of Sophie
for young Hanfstaengl, that she gave
to him some of her most costly jewelry,
and the discovery of these gifts led to
the disclosure of Sophie’s unfaithful-
ness. She was obliged to leave the
court. Soon after she married the Duke

 

d’Alencon. King Ludwig became a
wdman hater. 'He had lost all faith in
the sex.

On J un-e 16, 1886, King Ludwig com-
mitted suicide in Starenberg Lake.
The death of her cousin deeply affect-
ed Sophie. She became mentally un-
balanced, and spent a number of years
in an asylum at Gratz in Austria.—
New York Sun.

Quick Diagnosis.

Stranger (after an examination)—
Well, doctor, what do you think? Have
I the gout?

Great Physician—Hem!
your income? ,

“Twelve hundred a year.”

“No. You’ve got a sore foot.”—New '

York Weekly.

Er—what is

 

Determined.
“Don’t appear to be in such a hurry
to meet him, Maud.” ~

“I’m only hastening to pass him by.”
—Judy.

 

.lived this death in life existence.

 

“Why. Mr. Portly, you are all done I
up. What’s the matter?" , ‘
“Bicycle.” ' .

“But you don’t ride a wheel-—” 5
"No, but the other fellow does." l

 

CONVENT IN CATACQMBS.

au'on de Baye’s Vivid Pen Picture ofa
Unique Russian Institution.

The following extract taken from a
chatter in Baron de .Baye’s book on
the convent in the catacombs of the
Cathedral at Kiew describes perhaps
the most unique institution of its kind
in Russia. we might say, in the world:
-—“This subterranean convent is also
called Laura. In- Russian Laura is
synonymous with ‘convent;’ in modern
Greek it signifies ‘little cells.’ This
catacomb monaster , made illustrious
by the virtues of its first founders,
Theodore and Antoine, preserves in its
immense subterranean passages the ins
corruptible bodies of its ascetics and
its miracle workers. Here is shown
the tomb of the monk Nestor, the first
Russian historian.

“There are fifteen hundred monks at
the Laura of Kiew. He who would
study the ethnography of Russia is at
liberty to dwell for a certain length
of time in this monastery, which forms
a little 'city in itself. Here will be met
representatives of every race in Rus-
sia, for pilgrims flock here from every
part of the Empire. Nothing can be
more picturesque than their encamp‘
ments in the courtyards and gardens
surrounding the old Cathedral.

“When I entered this temple for the
first time evening vespers was being
celebrated. The walls of the edifice
were completely hidden by the plaques
of gold and silver covering them and
by the gorgeously bejewelled golden
frames surrounding the images, before
which were burning hundreds of mul-
ti-colored lamps, held by so invis-
ible a wire that they resembled more
a golden glittering shower of raindrops
than sanctuary lamps. Through the
clouds of incense and the glimmer of
thousands of candles, more brilliant
and luminous than any I had ever seen
before, the saintly images had the ap-
pcarance of being off in the great dis-
tance. 0n the main altar the figure
of the patron saint scintillated in its
aureolas of diamonds.

It was impossible to approach the
sanctuary, the distance which sepa-
rated me from it seemed impassable.

'The tiling had disappeared entirely un-

der a multitude of prostrated human-
ity, pressed closely one against the
other, rising sometimes to make the
sign of the cross, and prostrating them~
selves to the ground again to kiss it.
They resembled a human ocean, now
calm, now agitated, from the bosom
of which prayer arose in the form of
a long sigh or the vibrating song of
faith.

“And deep down, under all this gor-
geousness, stretched corridor after cor-
ridor of subterranean cells, catacombs
in which only the dead have been
thought to dWell, and deprived of light,
air, ventilation—fifteen hundred men
It
is true they have spacious gardens in
which to roam at certain hours, but
their devotions, their duties, are all
performed in these living graves; they
sleep and eat there, and before them
is the constant image of their certain
‘death,’ around them are the mumified
bodies of their former associates.”

TELEPATHY WITH A DOG.

The Exhibition Given by Mr. Davis Before
the Boston Scientific Society.

W'. E. Davis of Boston possessess a
dog that does things which. his master
thinks are the result of telepathy. He
gave an exhibition of the dog recently
before the Boston Scientific Society
that aroused an immense amount of
interest.

Among the score or so of performan‘
ces by the animal was one that neces—
sitated the exercise of something that
approached very closely to human in-
telligence. Mr. Davis first Spread out
red, blue, salmon and yellow handker-
chiefs in the order prescribed by the
spectators. The dog picked them out
as suggested by those who witnessed
the test at the mental commands of
Mr. Davis. The dog apparently paid
no attention to the commands of the
spectators and Mr. Davis never re-
peated the order, but simply said:
“You heard what the gentlemen said.
Bring it.” The dog brought it in each
case.

Similar experiments were made with
four numbers on blocks, five silver
pieces, and numbers on a slate. Sev—
eral times the number was not spoken,
but simply written. on the slate or in
dicated with the fingers. Mr. Davis
was blindfolded several times during
the test, but it did not seem to make
any diderence, as Dodgerfield, the dog,
had some way of understanding his
master’s wishes—New York Sun.

SEDAN CHAIR COMES AGAIN.

It is Reported that Fashlor able Women
will Try to Make Them Popular.

While New York is trying to accus-
tom itself to the novelty of the horse
less carriage, there has commenced in
London a demand for the sedan chair
as a vehicle of fashionable travel. One
firm, according to a. newspaper par»
agraph, is busy in the manufacture of
these relics, which of recent years
have proved useful only as ornaments
or on the stage.

The new chairs are not to be deco-
rated as of old with paintings or gild-
ed mouldings, but the colors popular
for the decoration of ordinary vehicles
will be used.- They will be painted
birc‘x, dark green, blue or maroon, with
light yellow, green and red for trim-
mings. The chairs will be very light,
and the promoters of the scheme are
said to expect their pro-fit from the use
of the vehicles for evening parties, din-
ners or other gatherings where the dis-
tance to he travelled is not great.

Other pairaeigers will not be carried,
and the interior of the chairs will in
this way he kept perfectly clean, and

. maps or Greases of light color are not

likely to be soiled-«New York Herald.