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 â- Pi»^*!iM?j'i «i ,pi^ii;.'j'i.uy-. "n*?v^^- I m -.^a 'M A NAMELESS ROMANCE I ham » Maare hocr to spend now aod Una, and I apand it in nmUiag roaad tbe tha oitj whan I dwatL Ptrhapa aoma of Jroa may think thia ia poor aDJoyment, but t does SOS aaem ao to me. Tnia. were I vooog and lioh, I might aeek my pleaauTM nrthcr afiddâ€" on tlM annny abona ot the Ifaditenaaaan, or in the gay gardcna of nance. 1 mi^t hatk more in the amile of gentle damea. fovgetting my lonelineaa, aa one forgata in the aonahine that only a mo- ment before the aky hong black with ctonda. Bot I am neither yonag cor rich and even if I wer« it sac ma to me that no rl*ce in the world oonid cTer be ao dear aa thoae laoea and meadow a I love ao well Yea: I am old now, and chilly aometimea at night when the fira geta low, wearing a great coat even on the anmmer da} s, and ahiTaring often when the zephyia fan my face. Bat I am kept yonnn by my love lor nature I woo her aa amoronaly aa aver maid waa wooed by swain, and the is not afoaid to preaa her roay lipa to mine, yellcw and withered aa thf y are, and to twine her lovely arma roand my neck. I love her for her hopefnlneea, for her inezbatutible store of yoath. Everywhere with love she le hnkea poor mortals for aitting down aad with folded handa, and with a glad voice bids them be up nd doing. She ia iirepressible. Yon may craah her down with atuny hand and plaster over every vestige of her beanty, and then say to yourself in pride of hf arE, 'I have made a city, a place for commerce and traffic, and plrasore and sorrow " and, yet, tnrn yoor back for an instant, lo I a Uttle blade of crasa cornea op between the atonea of the causeway and laughs in your very face. We may baild oar houses op story upon story, with the dingy attic at the top, for women's hearts to break in, and the tqualid court beneath in which little children may get their first taint of sin; but a gleam of sunshine will day after day work its way down to the very centre of the filth and squalidness, and a rose will bud and bloom m some poor man's window, flushing back with pleasure into the face of its kindly keeper. Then think how charitable she is, how slow to return an insult, how cheerfully she bears an afifront. I often think â€" though, of course, it is but the vagary of an old dream er â€" that those who build up masses of brick and mortar would be well repaid it nature left a sterile belt round their work, a belt gray^and cold aa their own walla. But no I She tikea no auch revenge aa this. Long before the city smoke has mingled with the clouds, or the hum of city life died away, we come on patehes of green, smiling us a welcome on trees, too, sprouting forth in beautTt or draped with leaves and flowers nodding to us in a grave and stately way, as if to show that- they at least bear no cmdge, and are prepared to be friendly in spite of all rebuffs. Euminating thus, many a lesson have I learned on ct:a-ity and forgiveness. Kor are my rambles unromantic, though the scenes are no longer strange. Every house and farm has become familiar to me. I have seen a generation or two of cow boys de- velop into ploughmen, wed themselves to rosy dairymaids, aid go their ways. I have beguiled idle hours in weaving webs o' fancy round their married lives, listening fi r the merry laughter of children in their co .- tages, and watchioc; tor the glad light of love en. many a'mother's fao. Aod as with men and women so with things. The old castie with its tnrreted wa'ls and secret passages ttes furnished me much food iPor thought. I have recalled in farcy the noble men aid fair women who used to triad its halls, their ODurtly, gallant ways, their feasts and tourna^nents and as I stand in the chamb- ers, girt with gray stone and canopieo by heaven. I can see the coats of ma 1 still r n the walls, and hear through the mist ot years the voice of eome gay Warrior recount ing his triumphs in tbe field. And many a story, too, have I heard from the rustic people about the whole gray house which stands in the hollow among the trees. Y u see, I am old enough to pat the com 1 7 maidens on the shoulder without exciting the ire of the'r brawny lovers, and to chat, to^, with impunity to the bnxom matrons in tl e cotteges while their husbands sit smoking by the fireside. And tbua it was that I heard the story of the Old House in the Hollow. I had often wondered if it did not contain » secret, so silent was it, so forbidding in as- pect, with its old porch black with age, and its windows stained and weather baaten. In looked so grim, that I used to think it, too, must have witnessed deeds of blood, and taken the best way to avoid detection bv standing for evermore in glcomy silence. I: stood among thick foliage, so thick, that even on a summer day but a stray sunbeam or two rested on its blackened walls, wa- vering and ^morons, aa if scared at their bravery in venturing so far. Tne carriage road from the «rate to the door had faded •at of sigh^, and there was nothing a.^uni but grass heavy and dark-coloured, with the weeds that grew among it. The woman in the cottage not far off waa glad enough to give me tiie key of the maty iron gatn which admitted to the grounds, and there I used to wander more from curiosity than pleasure. But I always felt morbid under the old trees and the grass, too, was thick and rank, that it was like walking over de aerted graves. In that old garden, raid the villagers, a lady in a white mantle used to walk among the trees, and look with yeam'ng glance t« warda the windowa of the old boose. The e I have waited for her, but she never came for. through hatnt. I have fallen into b-;- lieving the stories I hear. Perhaps the sun- shine frightened her away; perhi^, from long living in the shades, her eyes had grown too weak to bear the light perhapi she cared not that strangers should share her grief, and wished to mourn there alone with the darkneaa for her friend and the winda sighing comfort to her among the trees. Whatever the reason was, I never met her face to face in that gloomy hollow. Yet, although she waa so fair and young, the older villagers could not teU her tale without a shudder and though the lads and bases laughed aloud, yet it waa a wavering uncertain laugh, which died on their lipa, and left a sQence all the more profound. Forty years had paaaed since the oaken door created on its hinges to admit the mas- ter and his fa^'r young bride and a year la- ter, it had closed on her as they bore her away to sleep in the churchyard, to the grave that had proved too small for her wiindering restless spirit. On that day, cold, and with a drizzling, chilling rain, the '"nail cortege pasaed through the gate, a man btidking behind, with head host and eyea »it on the ground, hia faoe calm, but chill and pny aa the aky. And if the enriona one had tarned hu eyea on the hooae be woald have aen. at an apper -vindow, a woman'a figwe. ohd ia w^wJit. with Iwad Ixvl, ibtently wstehieg the paQbearfra aa tiwy woond along tiie mnddy road. Had the enrkna one ear^d to look eloaer, ha might have aecB thegliam of trinmph in her ^yea •â€"dark, iathwg, coalpUack eycaâ€" m aba watched tbe tad bent figure walk behind with auch a weary, liatlma alep But aoon a tarn in the road hid the obmpanjr from view, and the window waa empty again. One year had aaffioed to darken the brigfatneaa of that fair young life. Did it ever atrikeyon, reader, that aome men and women aeem to have haid n aunlight bath be fore entering thia wwli, ao daatined are they to make everything around them pure and good whUe otiiera. wafted from the r^iona of glcom, oaat all aronnd them the ahadow of death Into thia baleful darkneaa had the young bride fallen, and In it her apirit had been quenofaed. She loved her husband truly, that tall, bronzxl man, who had come from the Indies to woo her in the aunny lanea of her own England. Bight glad too, had ahebeen to become miatreaaofhis old home. For irontha, no apot had come on tber home picture. Hewaa happy In hia treasure she, tCi, in her simple life in the village, where, from her kindness, she al- ready was receiving the homage due to a queen. But one day, when the snow waa on the ground and the flowera were dead, a woman came to the Old Houre in the Hol- low. She «ai dark, and radiantly beautiful with the beauty that bl)srons under west- em skies She neither asked nor received leave to stay ai a member of the family eircle in the old house, but there was no one lo oppose her action. Toe master was her cousin, she said and even ai she spoke, the gham in her eyes gave her words the lie. Yet he said nothing, for suddenly he had grown silent and old, aroiding even the wistful, questioning glances of his wife. The shadow spread slowly over the house, up the staircasef into the nooks and comers of the rooms, laying its black hand now on this and now on that, but nowhere so strong- ly as en the heart oF the young mistress. Her rippling laufihtor changed to sighs, her bright smilis were repliced by downcast locks; she passed from summer to winter with no mellowing autumn days to make the change less sad. It was not that the woman who had come so strangely, sought the love of her husband, or in any other way a:- tempted to disp 1 the sunshine of her life she simply dwclb with them, nay, was friendly enough at times but the dark dress whioh she wore, and the masses of dai k hair which at times she would let fall about hsr shoal iera, seemed indicative of the mo- ral cloud irhich was slowly gathering over their lives. The lily droopsd day by day for want of sunlight. She became morbid, neivou3,falI of strange and wayward fancies. She thought the love of her husband was dead; and she took to dressing herselt in her wedding garb, to try if by that strange way she might make it live a.ain. Clad in the soft lustrous satinsâ€" in which as a happy bride she had t lushed and smiled in the little Enalisb church but a few months be tore â€" she would pacs h«r room for hoars, and stand, tro. loo(;in£l y before the glais peericg wis f..I'y lo see if aui{ht of ber, charm were vone. Ii this garb, too, she would walk among tbe old trees, and deck her bosom with tae snowdrops of spring but they ^e'-med to wither away at her touch and hoUjj listless and dead. Thus it was one day she wa: found sitting among the trees on the fresh sprmg grass, sr m? faded snowdrops in her lifelesd hand, her golden hair surmounting a face darkened with some myster'o is presence. Apala gleam of opriug sunlight had crept down an'l setded on her brow; but it wan ou*: "f place; aad timid as the sunbeams w hich I have seen playing on tho old house iuelf. Tnus quietly as the eliding of a river did her spirit depart, or rainer was effaced, aa a cloud cai hide the silver moon from us for a time. And to, they tell me, she can be seen at times in the old garden, j Tst as, when the clouds grow faint, the Wbicom^shaftsof light come down to assure us that tbe r mo ther orb still lives. KILLDTfi HMl CHIIJ) 1N» HHWBI" Where Meteors Come From. If, about 200 years ago, a witness had seated that he had seen a witch at midnight riding through the air on a broomstick, he would have been believed but if he had stated that he had heard a loud explosion, a d found a large hole in the ground, and, up n thrusting his haid in, he bad found a Btoae which was warm, hiii veiacity would have baen doubted. Meteors must have fall- en in olden times, but it is only in latter days that these cases have been reporte Unt)! 1749 it was the belief that meteors were visitations from God. A Danish as- I ronomer was the first to write on the sub- ject. Ptillas found a meteor which the form- er examined, an 1 recognized its traechar kcter. being a compisieion of iron and nickel. Ia 1883 a large sDOw^r fell in Normandy, which was of meteoric origin. A Hindoo cla m3d that a meteor followed him for two hours before it fell to the earth. The most celebrated one fell in 1492. in Alsace, and it- haa hung for three oeatnriea in a cathedral It weighed 290 pounds, and fell with the Boond of a clap of thnnder. It penetrated tne earth six feet. Tbe best bnown meteor i one of 1874, which fel in Wolverhampton, Eag, A tarmer saw a hole in the ground, and an examinatioa showed the earth to be warm, ana a meteor waa finally unearthed which weighed ahaat 700 pounds. Being polished, ic resemhles solid iron, and is now stored in the British Moaeum. In falling, meteors start from above the atmosphere, where thero is little resistanc( and coma down with a velocity twenty t mss greater than that of a bullet. Com ng in contact with the atmosphere great heat is generated and the meteor ia broken in pieoea. Tbe most common meteora are atonea, and can- not be found because they resemble atonea, on the earth'a surface. In S beria and South America the most are f onnd. Where tbey come from has caused much discussion. One theory ia that meteors originally came from the earth, and were due to atapendona volcanic eruptiona of ages gone, when the meteors wero thrown beyond the attraction of tne earth, and sent revolving; around the sun. When the earth in ita orbit comes near one of then wandering meteors it at tracts it, and it plunges into the earth. Any stone thrown at the rate of six miles a second would be thrown outside of its attractive power. Every one of these must In time enter the orbit of the earth and must, of course, return to it-^[Prof. Ball before a Boston audience. A BMBMlcA WlCaAa â- u wfee â- â- Â« Bcear«c« In a hnmUe room npoa the •«•»*««« of a CaUowhiU afreet, Philadelphia, boarding bonae, a mother and ohild lay doim recently •ni died in- e^ch other'a arma. Upon the b«hd of Jaaae Logan,' the recreant bntband and father. re«ts the moral r aponaibilny for tbe doable tragedy. When Mra. Theo^ dore Se'fer;, the miatreaa of the boarding hoiwe, aroae in the morning an i went about her dntlea, ah* wondered way her lodgeta in the back room alept ao 'a^ She did not go to their room on^il nearly noon. Than f ahe knocked violently and called, but the room « as quiet. She put her face to the keyfcole. It waa atoppad with a aai of paper, but ahe detected the odcr of cacapmg ga*. The door w»a forced open. The body ^f Annie Logan was tn the bed. She had un- dressed for the night. Her careworn faca was almost ai peaceful as though sbe a'.ep';. One aim waa outatrotohed upon thapillO'V and the rther damped in a tight embrace tbe body of her baby boy, Howard. The bed- room waa ecropulously neat. The clothing of mother and child had been cu-efully packed away in a trunk, together with aome littlo trinkete. OJyafew articlea of the child's clothing were in sight. Theas had been carefully need to aral cracka about the doer and window frames. Under the door waa tightly wedged a piece of carpet. The gas jet waa turned on. A cup 00 the waahatand v ai partly filled with laudanum, and a teaipoon redolent with tincturd of opium lay upon the flo )r where. Annie Locan had thrown it aft- r giving her child a fatal dose and draining the dregihfriielf. The forsaken wife had also twisted and knotted a towel about her throat to hasten the work of suftocation. On the bureau wero a few rumpled and tear- stained leaves ^aitily torn from a memoran- dum book. They contained the story of tbe woman's shattered life, or aa much of tbe story as the heart-broken wife ohoae to make public en the night of her death. The first note, hattily written with a pencil found beside it, waa addreaaed to her land- lady. It read Mrs. Sbifest Yon will let my brothers know it aa aoon aa possible. The eldest, Jerome Fegley, lives at 2 418 Beece street, between Fifth and Sixth streeM. Thomas Fegley, 2 816 Poplir street, ia fireman at Twenty-third and Race streets, with Nortn Brother. iln the other meaaage, written closely upon ve pages, the trembling hand had confessed the motives that bad prompted to murder and suicide. The letter wus addressed to her family. It read Deak Bbcthbbs and Sistebs My dear husband has forsaken me and his dear little boy that thought there was no rne like his papa, and was looking for hm every day. 1 bope he will often think of the beat friend hi has had for tb latt six years. I gave np all for him, and I will die for him. I hope he wilt forgive ma for what I have done, and I hope we will soon meet ach other in the other world, for I forgive him and still love him, and hope our little boy will. Howar 1 will be three years cli tbe-Sch day of next March. Please bury him in my arms. Dear brothers, forgive me. T^e care of my trunk and bar/ ma whereever yoi wish tu. Good-bye to all an i every one^nd to our dear papa. To him Howard said the last word. I have lived as long as I could bear it, for these two weeks I bare lived in misery, but before that I was Haro the writing wavered and stopped ia the mddl 3 of a sheet. Six years ago Annie Fegley lived with her pirtn-^n in Pottsvillj. Here she first met Jdsse Logan, a man considerably her senior. Tbey were married, She was tbtn 24 years old. They cam* to Philadtlphii, whera Mrs. Logan's little fortune was soon spent. Then the bust-ani began to neglect her, and finslly he left them apparently forever. On the foilowiog day Mrs. Lo^an receitred a postal card. The htuband s biief meaaage was this Will not be home again. Kisi Howard for me. With the drunkaid life ia reeL A Simday Seene In Texas, Ap.rfcv of hunters returning from a trip on the plans captured, eleven miles from Colorado City, Texw, ahusie bla?k bear weighing, in lis half-fam's led condition| about 300 pounds For days he would neither eat nor sleep, anl kept the curious at respectful distaace, aa he paced uneasily to anl fro the length of his chain, rolling his blood-shot eyes and giviag vent to his rage and fear in snarling, menacing growh. On Sunday morning as thechutcb IwIIa were calling the children from all direction i to Sabbath School, brnio waxed desperate, tnd, with a powerful tug, snapped the ain that held him, and waa off on a clnmiy gallop through town. A great hue and cry waa raised, and pursuit m«de. Bruin, thus hard bsset, and having long fasted, male a break for a large paned window ia the dmmg-room of the Bendrebrook Hotel landing with a crash in the midst of the ai- WMshed gueata, who "atood not upon tbe order of thel^lng,but wentat once." Amii the clang and clatter bruin placed hima^lf at bay in a com?r, unoonaionsly, but undeni- ably, ' monaroh of all he auryayed." Brief, however, waa his leign. Soon a cowboy entering tbe long hall,thr8w a laiaeo over his ahoulisrs a second and third foUowwl, and the great angry brato was draped mto tlie atieet. Then a Uwlf skir- mish followed, oanaing a general atampede of the crowd, the three cowboya endeavotiua to mount their plunging,bncking,fr'ghteiied poniea, who evident did not like hia bear- ship. The feat was acoompliahed, however and then came the "tug of war"â€" 4be ""'H^JTS^ 'fi[^y f ^y* 'â„¢8«* *o the rght and left, whUe the poniea. with feet spread, bracing stnrdUy a^unst thetremen dona atrama of the larlata wound about the saddle horns, wen witii their riders drasoed hither and thither over the hard, amSoth ground. A girth snapped, and a aaddle went apmniog over the horae'ahead, leavins the nimble rider astride tiie neck of the eaordng equine. But the war waa unequal, and Brain at length, utterly apent, aurrandered, aad aolloaly allowed hlmaelf to bs led off towarda tbe Zoo in the park. Croaains the Lib« Wall Creek, •• Una Major's' spirit ul^i^ tailed him, and he laid him down In the shaUow water and gave up tito ghoat ',; even only for a time, iia deMil/nn.fl!!.^' but even aetliag it on fire did it no ,^' nentgood. The atrcets are imt as rt!?5^ the butter-colored houes last as v.ii« **'*^ duat cloud, jnat asstiflini, the.unS juat aa ontn^eonsly modem as whei T^ â€" „ last hero In 1873. Oae chansa i^A le wrong way, and ao undue much of „p.„nt^ ^^ xhat the names of «.. •» it «,quired by perpetual twulme iu ^*^ ^^^ ,„^„i 'f^^l*!" Pn«. neito direction. For, aa we event- ^^ n^j^ ^^ appew in r1 °/.?«»« Tbe Fmyer Bwrel. lint met with P"y« 5^"L *»" $! tf Thibet, whrti trawlfing the narrow pa^hi whioh wind a'ong the face of m»3aalicrpre;ipitoaa HinaUyao orage, we S^J nativStra^lni »«»«'« 1 S«*Zi r-tradbi» driving flooka of laden goata. worn n witi qtaint headdro«ea of ainpa ot amoer and large, or arae lurquoiaea f«*«»«» on banda of dirty oWlh. ani !»•" «»d there a man holding In kit hand a *maU b onae or biasa eyln-'er whicli he twirlwl uMchanioaliy all the tmehe "•â-  i'«^y"«- ' fcTfJ tome time before I BBOoeedod m getting hold of one of theee for a oioeer ex^mmatum, as the ownera are nervoualy afraul to trnat their tnaiaTM in the handa of ime who, albeit in ignoranoe. '8^* '*^^^zZ!S!'!!^t them the -^ â€" .. the merit the oppneito ually rtiacovered, not only is the aaorad mx avUabled charm (mboaaed on the matal cylindir, but tbe aame myatic worda wero written over end over again on very lengthy atrips of cloth or panrma. which ara bound onnd the spindle on wbioh the cylinder ro- tatea.and one end of whioh forma the handle. Ii ia therefore nsoeaaary to turn thia little barn 1 of prayera in auch a direction that the characters formingthe holy phraaemay pa a on proper order beforo the peraon taming, and aa all Oriental booka aro read from the right aide of each page to the left, the birrel is turned in the same direction. For the fltm « reason the Thibetan walkb in this direc- tion round the great terracea and other bnildings, on wbioh the holy worda are inscribed, in order that bis eyes may rest on the words In due courae, whioh can only be the caae when he keepa hia left hand toward the object round wbioh he is walking. Hsp- ptly tlua produoea a doubly aatiafaotorily r«*- hult. for ia Esatem lands, aa well •£ in our own Wast, it baa ever been aooountod lucky andmeritorions to walk round aacrod objecte or placea m thia snnwiae course â€" an act of fcoaoage to the aun which I have aeen ren- dered in many lands. Jnat aa Our Britiah anceatora cont-'n led thua to oiroamambnlate their churches longafrer they had nominally abandoned all paganim, ao throughout the world we find aurvivafa of the old homage. -~ [The Contemporary Bevi^w. ^USSU'8 eREATciii^^^ L**«»laeki mtbi ito CluurMtMristie FeillJ^ *^ There are aome towns, rb thet« faces, upon which the htp,e of vJ" **• to leave no trace, and the area* i«-* â- *"» Biaalaia one of them. It. h^^'^^ oy the onmHiMd fleeta of K.an^ ""'•«t â-  »*"^-.-Q Undin 1854 might almost"K,«5^og. â-  ^^^S/.l Canrlng Ivory and Bo0e. All the ourioualy oarved handlea which aro ao faahionabje, and tiie qnamter that are sought after, aro shaped hpon a aeries of rapidly revolving wheels, rangion' from an eighth to three inches in diameter, and which are a cross between a file and a saw upon their cutting surface. Ivory and bone aro oarved in prec78"ly the aame manner, tbe only differonoe in the handling of the two being that bone haa to be boiled a long while to free it from animal matter beforo it goes to the carver, while ivory is clean and pure from the start. When it la desirod to produce any object in bone or ivory, an umbrella handle with a crouched tiger upon it for instance, the car- ver takes a piece of the material of suitable size, and presses it upon one of the wheels derciibed above. At the po'nt of contact it cute with ainazing rapidity. Soon the shape- lens block begins to assume the rouirh out- lines of the object intended. The lathe is then stopped, which reqnires ibnt an instant and another, probably a smaller wheel, is substituted. In this way a dozen wheels may be used before the firal finish is given with a delicate diso.a little larger than a pin's head but when the work leaves the deft fingers,otthe skilful worker a perfect mini- ature nf the royal native of the jungle is seen. The only remaining thing to be done polishing, which is aocomplishei by meaiis of canvas belts with pumice upon them; and finally, by canton flannel belts or wheels. Many paople suppose that billiard balls are turned by moans of some exquisitely ad- justed machinery in order to secure .their spherical parfection. The exquisite niach- inery ia the eye and hand of the artisan. The writer saw a gray-ha rad w -kman turn aev- eral billiard balla, and the oaly tool he used waa an .crdiuary tnrner'a chisel. His eye waa hia gauga. M I m mm â-  1 The Drunkard's Tonghnesg. In his "Scrambles Among tbe High Alps" Leslie Stephen telis the story of a guide who while drunk fell over a prespica so deep that a fall over it seemed aimcst certain death, and yet sustaiaed little injury. Stephen accordingly gives his readers the advice either not to fall over a precipice or to get thoroughly drunk bafore doing so I myself once. caw a min who had thrown himself while drunk over the Daan brilg^, in Edin- burgh, a height of about 20O feat, on to the rocky bed of the straam below. A saber man would probable have been instantly killed, but tbi iudividnai though he had broken both of his thigh bonea, quickly re- covered. The reason of this immunity pro* bably is that the nerve oenttrs which regu- late the heart and veaaela, aroao much para- lized In the drunken man aa not to be a£fooi- ed by the fall, whioh in a aober man would have acted on thrm ao vio'ently aa to atop the heart, arreat circulation and oauae in- atant death. Tbeplaaibarmuriiolbea mii^i«iM, he Mibn playi ou uie'piMa, ^^ but The Pie-Eater and the Lnnchman. The other day a newapaper man, en route from Columbuh to bia home in Cin^ ionatti iu search of a clean ahirt, might have been aeen munching a pieoe of pie at the lunch counter ot the depot at Xeni*. The pie- eater o'oaerved to the lunobmau "I notica that this piece of pie la balow the regulation «ize." I'ly'^i*" "•" *»"» "Ply. " the faotis, I am a tattle abort on pica thia morning, and I had to make a draft on the tranifer pies. The troth of the matter ia. I sail a piece of pie to a railr tad employe or transfer hand for 5 cento and I change passengers 10 oenta. I cuta paaaenger pie into three pieoea and get thereby 30 oenta for a pie. The trana- fer piea are out into four pieoea, and I set oenta for the pie trom the transfer handa. You juat ate a piece of transfer pie. Ten cento, plaaae" *^ ».rj^ u **"?«« happana to get aerved with a hunk of tranter pia he £» to nav regular paraanger rates, en f ' ' "Correot again." •' Sappoae the tranafer piea ahonld run out and the paasenger pica had to be aerved to the railroad employee, whatrato would they " Then goes your train, sir." appear in Rassian ai«« Bat in a 1 other points Odessa is oi^ atill. The atataes "aftar the antique" ao long after It that It has forgotten about them. The gaunt, scraggy chn^ *o^fin}«k.^y\pyn[eroym coffee pots, aad all the larger buildings arp so exactly 'aiik; trat I am in hourly expecta-jion of aeein newly-arrived tourist swagger into the^wl hall or the public library, instead of S, ^^1 here ma great deal of fiaah:^lk«k1^ ooming over the wires nowaday., *SSS3 attompatoauppNMit. """' â-¼* *«»^«^ hotel, shruting tothe astounded cuBtodi»« to "trot out the bill of fare." ^^ But this universal nnprogressiveness ii merely the natural and inevitable result of the peculiar temperament whioh character- izes the Slavonian race. Paradoxoal as the aasertion may appear, there is not enoneh discontent in Russ'a T.oere is, inde^ misery enough and far too much but, m- stead of being thereby goaded into advan ing, the sole idea of the suffariug masses is to endure doegedly until the evil day u paaaed, and then to jog on in the old ruts after the old fashion. Tbe Finn s'ill inhab- ita the lane log hut, wears the sama shoes of twisted bark, .feeds upon the same dried bread and fish mixed with sawdust, which aerved hia forefathers in the days of Peter the Great. The Russian peasant, in an age of railways and telegraphs, is still the tame careless, hospitoble, thievish, drunken, gcod humored savage that he was two centariet ago. The Tartars of the Crimea burrowing like rabblto amid the mine of Chersonesu or in the oaverna of the Inkennan valley, will tell yon. aa they told Mr. Kinglake, in Ostober 1854. that thmr are content tecanae they lived happily under the czars for three generationa. It ia not from such material as thia that great nations are wrought. The sheep-skin irooked philosopher of the steppes, a conservative by natore and a fataDat by creed, accepts without a mnrmor the coarse fare and log built hovel which aerved his anceatora in the middle a^es, content to remain as his father was before him. and as his son will be after him. T» offer civilization to such a race is like read- ing poetry to an oyster. But however morally backward she mvf be, the grea^ empire has visibly advanced in a mater al sense since the day when I saw all Moscow mourning for "the good czarina" four years ago. If railways are indeed, as the well-known saying declares, the "trae civilizers of mankind," she Has ccnstructsd enou!{h of them lately. Apart from the famous militory railroad from the eastern shore of the Caspian eastward across the Kbiva desert â€" which has. jusi received a tresh extension whereof I shall have more tn say before long, the whole southeast of Europaan Russia is now being opened up in all directions. The prolongati?n of the Poti-Tifl's, railroad to Bakua and the new petroleum fields has at last connected ths B'ack Sea with the Isolated Caspian. Along the nrrthern slopa of the Ciucaias, acotHer line, running southeastward from tbe point where the D3n pours in'o the pea of Azof, is already open as far as Vladkavksz, at the** foot of the great central ridge, and woikine its way slowly among the mighty precip'oas of the Dariel Pass and Mount Kasbek to jo'n the trans C^^ucaaian track at Tiflis, and link the border provinces with the interior of Russia. From the Ponti Tif- lis line a branch has been run out to Baa- sia I new port. Batoum, ceded by Turkey in 1878 and a "Caspian coast railroad " ii now being p ejected, which Is to run southward into Persia along the western shore of the great lake, although Persia herself seem? in no special hurry to accept the beiefit. It is an unspeakble relief to find one's self once more, after so many dayo among the unintelligible dialects of Hungary, Transylvania and Roumania, ia a country where one can understand every word that is said When I first heard Ruas-an spoken a few days ago at the frontier station of Umgheni, it was like the first glimpse of the minarete of Bagial to a' travslUr on the plains of Mesopotamia. Bat te any one who does not undentand it, the gtand old Slavonian tongue must have a somewhat startling sound. The Russian word for "Thank you" ir pronounced exactly I'ka "Blackguard are you," while the phraee for "Pass me the salt "â€"viz "Dai myne sol, is, as any one will see who pronoances it quickly, anggeative of a very unorthodox remark indeed. The formidable length of aome of the wtn^da, too, reminds one of the kin^ of Kamboja'a title, which required three men and a boy to recite it. All that I have said regarding tbe nnpro- gressiveneaa of Odeaaa might as joatly I** retorted by Odeaaa upon ua, for just F^ aent our progr'^fs baa come to a standstill altogether. My draft upon the Oiesn bank, for aome myaterioua reason l"i* yond the comprehension of any beu'-ghted gentile who haa not graduated upon tbe etook "xohange, cannot bs cashed w'*°?°* some lurther commercial hocus-pocus, wbion I have just telegraphed to St. Pete.-sburg to obtain. M anwhile we were stranded here, with the satisfaction of seeing the steamer that ahould have carried us to Sebastapoi going quietly off without ua. Nor « tlus a^. Oar total wealth in the currency or the realm being exactly 25 Russian kopeoKs. (about 16 oenta,) we may weUfeel like em- bodied frauds in one of the best hoteU m Odeaea. Every dUh that I order makes me feel aa if 1 had picked aome one's pocke^ and the mere presenoe of a waiter asts upon my nerves very much aa that of a detective might act upon those of a suspected burgiw or murderer. M. Elouard DetaiUe, the well-knowj French painter, who haa been '^^y^fJZ moat oharaoteriitio typas of the »««»_ soldier at the recent manoeuvres at f"^i Selet, found himself excoption»lly »'°^' by the Commander-in-Chief. HewasinoB edinthe palace, and every facility g^^ him.to masier his aubjeot, Ha has reW" to Waaoe with a great number of aem^ aad aketohea to be worked up loto a a battle pieeo hereafter. B sraaAli^ ynj- ma-*! Stfoo of it: ^T0a Oct. "HJ^depen^ jm^ foroea. 2aadeeper- tfdaaperatelyl ^igjfqnarten 1 4^a».6»vyfirel MpsI in icrcel gi to tbff a*en| UK at onje se ^y and horl j^y to aaaul g0t to wait loni SWEPT f 0,d with our ,n« $avve qui light ajad ^rare advanced 4aptre playinJ Keanwhile a 1 liouly movedl agna promised I «*Lord RagUl strength of tb« jBOStbe remo^ iJio foresaw ti beferetheleapl myatery. TM brigades, Lot{ liiotiiws-in-lav last, were wail lAcan being tl â- ped Capt. Not ating the Gknea .^unwritten â€" f liattory must Y tared. Lord to have earned CB,' fearing to ambushed danj adm. With t of hia handsoi Minted in the md: •• 'You aee yo "Even the £s be waa, genera ccmmander in d owing to the u tween them, KEITHEB WOT and once more his sword, whicl jta scabbard, an( tried 'Take orders I' "The crisis hi left but to do as sent fiom Lord frcm Lord Cirdi ward charge ' I echoing cheer is as with clang bridle and bit, t and the ringing Fourth and Ttic and Eleventh Hi digan's own coi cherry colored tn Lancers, with r, KDB dressed aa e trot forward dow their head ride 1 danntleaa Cardig acment with a r as he arguea aoi toither hnaaar. "The unmask belching foith 1 treaka into a gall A FUKIODS, Already Nolan grape shot, the sc with him. Thei fip aa aaddle ^/Icse up I Clos eeatlng cry, anc tekes to tell th disclosed to the lew, cannon to ri; eftbem, canncn «anon behind broku Russian I «t martyn. the icadai^s flashing 1 "With a wild we cherry clad i hghtly as they me on the hunt: Wia as they leap *7, holds fatt lo arry to death ci f?t 'My mothei ^Pnglips, aiiUj 'Far away, cl «ecampandafe' â„¢ ai^on hi( »g«»g lika a lioi Jope. the leadei "Kht B igade. *od hia brawny .power of slang •jMy moment 1 *?™»erand furl " way with hi «M» reachea the la !,„.*[•». when !?^H» *b het £l^. WmoQgnia "ttwtottmpt Sgyanaoalml ^•Mn the situi ?• »*d to the ^•**«a.noaign. S?** A dozei 2?*«ne,aaVeIioi 5 "ware « leaa 4rhere la *4 ibeir rR^ ah jh'llie bo]r i behind tni N i^bleb •tandpo 'vikhadc i:.--.-.:iiS4i-i::