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Markdale Standard (Markdale, Ont.1880), 31 May 1888, p. 7

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 :â-  i^^^r^r-.^^^'^^:.- :J.^t^?^fv^E«? Mi|y. -*'â- *, â- *-- " i^mm '•^ rou£ -^â- wv*^,- 'V*' ^^ •ad th«y pj^ PUBU8MD.1 LAll Rienn RanBTXD.} TKE AND UNLIKE. Wat of to th« eaken |Tdk you do one your erently ag only not Chen Anthor of By M. E. BR ADDON, «' Lady Acdlet's Skobet," " Wtilabd's Wkibd, ' Etc., Era fr«u actually do' whole ice loa yott »ot~ veteran i^jXâ€" The Retubn of elms ia KeDsington Gar- lave Weak Week. °heitg Jf you do not^ »*« ^«*. or Hr\'f«.UiTS bed the or or he 3ktthe nearly fivj ires' • lak black,, â- il«i and the »ger and full, more of « er ce a ^^ery boy almost "inwt, »' Would now Itivaneaa aaani ation. donbu .sy?««=s and atro, ch« vigor to the tnem do the the ir langi same to the rer and kid: StOD It m prectly to the the bio, '"goroft .^^«?»WeBitt^do hire keeping health. a sick man to can d u,h^^^ Ii«* "g wind-blown crests were just â-  Z Helen's windows were older by " a vear and a half since that first **°of the flat in Wilkie Mansions, T- t,a1 erown accustomed to married ' deratood by Valentine Belfield. nearnt to recognize the fact that • 'â-  I, he was fond of her, and proud of ^° ntv he had no idea of making any vn in his o^n manner of living, or â- ^^ „ anv one of his pleasures or r*""reDts on account of his wife. If his r en-8 were such as she could share, rf willing that she should share them. k her to race meetings, and cricket " and regattas, when she was well "h to go with him, but if her delicate " kept her at home, that fact made no ice in his arrangements. There came when she was nervous and lo*^- Jted unable to go out of an evening, yet jths burden of her loneliness almost Srable bat her husband frankly told that she could not expect him to sacrifice "evening amuaementsâ€" his whist club, or " tbeatresâ€" because she was moping at !?vi'hat the deuce would be the good if I the other side of the fire he said. "Besides got into a groove that |Not that it ia leas rk to worl wecaual,^, "kely to enter, when con we art jmning than whei e get a good chest? ling both inside and ou Jiorough breathing do Bates the chest aavou" u blow it up and nai les vigorously boilda le breathing. Do Id your neck well back' our backbone, and be whole of you. Next your mouth, but bed into man's nc not into his montl] who goes around wit coward. Thirdly, :o your lungs that ' lies each day as yon i Q train your chest to an extent that you in your later year plenty of it, breathiL, eeply as you can all tb« lungs grand work, and invigorating out-( would never ride wh« dstone and Lowell wed the same rule, aad :eep in a green and plenty of walking, and, g do the deepest, slow] I can. Try every no\ low many breaths yon foot-ball. It may no^ one breatu will fill it] hing very small or n. Stand ten feet froi see if you can blow i^ ering as loudly as yoi singing as your neigh'j ad when singing, as said, "breathe froi as far as you can inon iring the hot seaaoi I in one breath, as the i ou are educatinji gs in a most valuable imple the chest, arm wori (ot work. A man ma) no great chest. Tally have fine chests,! rge muscles on th«' brck. SI .p the bad r high up over yoi les without stopping- i good chest exeroi«l high your chest «nd-j )e breathe it as fnllj is or any other exer-| and elbows, and chin I ouc in front of yon.! r throw your handil ;onal line, never beud-r they are as far hukl 1. Do fifty ofthewl enty five, at a time, f hest has suddenly be- 1 :ork for round shoal- ers are a deformity, the one chiefly to I ow how to straight^ leck back, your bwk knees straight, you you tried to. [is high above your 1 there; now leM* 1 hold it there; then ill they are far out r hands were on • I jver once bending- id do this aU tunM his week, ten umes B after that as yon now stretching ana across the fro«» J, and expanding! Do not forgot all the time. llalsobnUdnptWJj vour chest â- Â» i hairs. "DiPV^ ,nr sides, and^" above your cbej is also good.^^ hof theaeex*"" ly bji.j»?.|i;^ to ««I-i» run down muggiuess w sit upon mope with you,|| have your sister. Voutalk as if Leo were laid on like the luror the gas," Helen said, irritably; Ijhehasher evening engagements as well I yon. « [Jncommonly selfish of her to be gadding Lic3t just when you want her most," said ^eniiae- " It is a woman's place to look £;er her sister at such a time. Helen sighed and was silent. Those ijs and filences irritated Valentine was a relief to him to irs and get into the mild I London autumn, to hail a cab, and fjoffto his daily haunts at the West End was a still greater relief to sally forth iih guncase or hunting gear, on his way to .railway which was to take him to some ieasant country house or snug bachelor den, ijiere there were sport and good fellowship, .(tty women, or congenial men. The fond hopes which had soothed Helen I: her solitary evenings were doomed to bit- \mt disappointment. Her baby -son died Wore he was a week old, and the shock of ieiufant's death, which came upon her sud- ienly, brought on a nervous fever. For more than six weeks Helen was seri- I'ltly ill, and during some parts of that time fcet life was in daneer. Trained nurses took lioisession of that small habitation in Wilkie llluiaiona. Lady Belfield came up to Lon- jk to watch over her dauehter-in-law, and Its. Baddeley showed a great deal of solici- ade, though she did not forego her evening aigagements, or desert Sandown Park. For the hrst two or three weeks Valentine Uii acxious and attentive but after the ill- ies8 had lasted a month his attentions relax- si,and he began to regard his wife's condi bo as chronic. There was a dreary mono- Uy about the sick room which bored him ieyond endurance. The nurses in their uni- iirm, the fecurrents visits of the doctor, the morts from the sick nurse, forever fluctuat- mg between good and evil â€" the whole busi- \m hung upon Mr. Bel field's spirits like a Ijerpetual nightmare. He was gladder than per to get away from his home, more eager ma ever to accept invitations from his lachelor friends. All this had happened six months ago. iHelen had escaped from doctors ana nurses son after Christmas, but sh seemed only ie shadow of her former self when she first Me out of the sick room, and went for an pour's drive with Mrs. Baddeley, in the pretty little Victoria, which that lady had ioind necessary to her existence. It was a jobbed Victoria, as she told her lirienda, piteously but it was a very smart 'ittle carriage, with a smart coachman. Mrs. Siddeley's page sat beside him on the box, I ad the turn-out was alto^tether respectable. Ihe necessity for a Victoria, exchangeable J k the evening for a brougham, was india- jpBtable, seeing that within the last twelve lionths Leonora Baddeley had become in I Mfflewiae a public character. She had tak- Iffl to literature. She wrote for the Society I papers. Stories, essays, hunting articles, ItaciDg articles, fashion articlesâ€" nothing Icame amiss to her facile and somewhat reck- [iwpen. She wrote with the air of a wo- I man who lived among dnchesaea, and who dined every night with Cabinet Ministers. tJpon politics, morals, art, sport, finance, "be wrote with equal authority, and a sup jreme audacity that dazzled the average I f»der. Nor was literature the grass widow s only I jecnpation. She had burst upon the fash- I ionable world as an amattur actress of dis- tinction and capacity. She gave recitations rt charity concerts, she act* d in open-a-r ^ys. She reminded elderly gentlemen in- differently of Mrs. Honey, Madame Vestris, »»d Mrs. Nesbitt. It was not to be tuppos- «d that she eam,ed any money by these diarity performances, and her gowns must tave cost her a good deal but as she was f^porttd to be making a handsome income literature, this did not mattf r, and no- wdy, except Helen, wondered at the elegant *»y m which Mrs. Baddeley contrived to uve, or at the open-handed and thoroughly Irish hospitality of those pretty rooms on he right hand of the third-floor landing. " I can't think how it is that money goes much further with you than it does with â- e." Helen said, with a faint sigh, as she looked round her sister "s luxurious little orawing-room, with its profusion of tnlip* *nd narcissus in the window aillB and the Mephce, and its vases of tuber roses and "n« of the vaUey. ' My dear, you forgot that I am a bread- J^er, while you and Valentine are like "« lilies of the field in neither toiling nor •pinning," j^l wid, could write tor the papers. them, and I have suits me exactly." Helen sighed again. Valentine's way of life was expensive and there were a good many acccunts that ought to have been paid at Christmas, and which were still un- paid in April. Helen's walking gowns were shabby, and her evening gowns bore the stamp of last season yet she dared not goto the milliner's lest she would be re- minded of an account of some standing. First-class fares, tips to gamekeepers, and club subscriptions, to say nothing of that far deadlier item, losses at cards â€" had ab- sorbed the cash that should have kept the little household in Wilkie Mansions clear of debt and difficulty. And now Helen came out of that little world of the sick room into the bright big world outside. She emerged out of dark- ness and weariness and constraint, like Pro- serpine returning from her six months' so- journ in the under- world. She was pale and thin and shadowy looking after her long illness, but the lovely Irish gray eyes were as brilliant as ever, and the mobile lips had their old charm and sweetness. Never had she looked fairer to the eyes of that connoisseur in beauty. Lord St. Austell, than she looked this April afternoon, when Mrs. Baddeley'a carriage drew up t^ainst the railings by the Row in order to give that lady time to talk to her friends. The pen- sive light in those large violet eyes, the delicate transparency of the wild rose com- plexion, had a poetical charm which touch- ed that sybarite fancy and St. Austell looked from the elder sister to the younger, wondering how he could ever have thought Leonora Baddeley beautiful. He had heard of Helen's serious illness and of Valentine's neglect, and this alone would have given her an interest in his eyes. Neglected wives had been his specialty from the year he left Christchurch. He tald her how rejoiced he was to see her out again after her long imprisonment. " It is like the awakening of a year," he said. " I really think this is ths first per- fect spring day. You and our ideal April visit us together. I hope we are going to see you everywhere now." " .She is hardly strong enough yet to go everywhere," answered Mrs. Baddeley, ' 'but mean to take her about with me more than I have done hitherto. I shall not let her play Joan to a husband who never plays Darby. My brother-in law is a delightful young man but he is just one of those! de- lightful young men who should always re- main bachelors. He has no vocation for domestic life." " You have no right to say such a thing, Leo," said Helen, flushing indignantly. " You know how happy Val and I are to- gether." " When you. are together no doubt, dear. The rarity of the occurrence must give it a fiotitiouB interest." " Oh, please keep your smart sentences for the Macrocosm or the Bon Ton, Leo, and let me manage my husband my own way." Those bright spring days, which were full of gladness and animation for a good many people at the West End of London, brought only dejection and apathy for Helen Belfield. She looked out of the window and saw the carriages driving by to the Park, or a hansom cab bowling gaily along the street, with that rakish, devil-inay care air which seems inseparable from a haiisom. She listened drearily to the dreary street cries, borne from some invisible shabby genteel street round the comer. She lay on her sofa by the open window yawning oyer a new novel, until she threw the book aside in sheer weariness of fictitious woes and sorrows which touched no chord in her heart, and sat brooding over her own troubles, which seemed so very real. Valentine was at Sandown or Epsom or at Newmarket, and not expected home for a day or two. Last night she had waited dinner till nine o'clockâ€" to-night it might be ten. He was not unkind to her. He pro- fessed to be as devoted to her as in the d.jbys of their honeymoon and yet his indiflfer- ence wounded her to the quick. He told her that a man must live his life â€" that mar- riage would be an insufferable institution if it obliged a husband to abandon his favorite club and to be home at eight o'clock every evening. " If you don't like waiting dinner, I had bettor dine at my club," he said. " I would rather do that than have to dine opposite a funeral face." " No, indeed, Val, I don't mind waiting. I have never complained of having to wait, so long as you do come home. But some- times you have disappointed me altogether, you have gone to a theatre or to one of your late clubs, and have left me to wonder and worry all the evening â€" such a long melan- choly evening without you." " Yon had no need to wonder and worry. Yon must kno* that a man who has a lot of friends is not always master of his actions." • " But a woman's mind u not always to be governed by needs. 1 could not help wondering. Sometimes I have wondered if I had married your brother Adrian whether I should have had quite so many solitary evenings." ^,, "it's a great pity you did not marry Adrian, if you are beginning to repent onr preference for me," said Valentine, with a darkening countenance. "Dearest Val, how can yon say such things. You know I have nevw repented. I never could repent my dhoioe. My heart went out to you from the finw, and I knw that I had never reaUy loved Adrian. He had been to me aa a kind and dear fnend, never as a lover. But I can't help some- times wishing that yon were like him in jost one respect-that yon were as fond of home as he is." j. i. t «• In other words you loved me beoanse 1 was a man, and now you have got me you would like me to be a milk-sop. No, Helen, I « unlike Adrian in my taste, and nrmiti Ml am like him in my pemm. I owe fat mnsio, « books, or fires I am a man of action, cannot live 3f^ Mrs. Baddeley an«re««d mtlwr !**Ply "there is something in the w« of r*»l wanted, or at leait knack. Besidea, i ^t* Pwa are not bis enoodi to hold oreiy- ^^* owtribationa. I huma to pbMO SSTmw for mnsi^ or bookii; « firerfde muiMO. IamamanofacHon,cannotUve S^STmovement and variety. HyoV" Ite voa'B UBawmr exampio, aadfaHtoad wtoey«»'B ot oiety and firofettog at home, tffi bte eo- yonr atotec I oonld often look JS^ipaf 4 ownii^tt I knnr whom yon Zif- " Ton pcomiMd that lait year, Val, and yon never came to any of my pairtice, I sat for a •whaUm evening watdiing the door, and ref oni^ every dance, for fear I ahonld miss yon when yon came in and yon never appeared." "It wasn't my fault, I aanire yon. There was always something to prevent my turning up." " I thiu it was my ditappointment about you that made me detest parties. I made a vow to myself that I would never go out again withont you." " Ah, that was last year when you were out of health. Now you are well and bloom- ing again, and it will do yon good to see a little bit of life. H I were a jealous hus- band I should be very glad for you to shut yourself up in these rooms, but I'm not jealous, and I know I can trust yon." "Indeed, dearest, yon can," she said fondly, with ber hands clasped upon his shoulder, " you know that for me you are the only man on earth." " Well, I believe as much, Helen. You are one of those foolish lovable young women who are not ashamed to admire their own husbands. But rei^y and truly, my pet, it grieves me to see you mope in the very pleasantest time of the year. Leo says you would be included in «J1 her evening invitations if her friends only knew you were willing. You have but to show your- self to be admired and sought after." " There is one objection, Val," murmured Helpn, blushing as she spoke. •'What is that?" " I have not had a new gown since last summer, and people dress so much now-a- days. I should feel myself an old-fashioned dowdy. "In last year's gown â€" although it cost five and thirty guineas and was dedar-id by you and Leo to be perfectionâ€" quite the gown of the season," cried Valentine mock- ingly, and then he took out a bloated pocket-book, and from a confusion of tissue paper. Holt's lists and bank notes inter- mingled, he selected a note which he handed to his wife. " There, Helen, I was rather luckier then usual at Chester the other day. There's a fifty to sweeten Madame Bouillon. Yon might order two gowns, I should think, on the strength of it." " I will," cried Belen gaily, overcome by her husband's generosity. " How good you are, Val." " I like to see my little wife happy," he said blandly, not deeming it necessary to inform her that he had over a thousand pounds in that bloated pocket book. He never worried her about his losses, so why should he tell her of his winnings. He left her with a kiss, and was oO. to his after- noon lounge at Tattersall's. He left her happier than she had been since her con- valescence. " Dear fellow," she said to herself, " I know he loves me, although he may some- times seem neglectful." It was a lovely afternoon at the beginning of May. The sky was bluer than liondon skies generally are, the balmy west wind blowing the smoke eastward to darken the dwelling-places of the poor. Aristocratic London was dressed in smiles, suburban Kensington had a verdant and aknost rustic air in the bright, glad weather, and Helen's drawing-room was odorous with hot-house flowers. Lord St. Austell bad been sending her flowers two or three times a week since their chance meeting by the railing of the Bow. He sent flowers and plovers' sggs and pre- mature strawberries as to an invalid. Mrs. Baddeley heard of these attentions, and lift- ed her finely-pencilled eyebrows with a somewhat scornful air. " Me is more foolishly generrus than any- one I know," she said. "He is always sending hot-house fruit and flowers to sick chorus girls." " I hope he does not rank you and me with chorus girlsi" protested Helen. "I suppose it is he who supplies yon with all those lovely gardenias and lilies of the val- ley " " He and other people, my dear. I have more than one string to my bow." Helen ran across to her sister^s rooms soon after Valentine left her, and exhibited her fifty pound note. " If you like to take me but with yon this afternoon, Leo, I can order a new gown, and then I can go with you to some of your parties." " Certainly, dear, but one gown won't go very far." "Ob, I can have some of the old ones touched up â€" if I have just one new one in the very latest style, with the season's cach- et. Even one gown is an effort when one has a limited income. I can never under, stand how you manage to have so many and from Mrs. Ponsonby, who is ever so much dearer than Madame Bouillon.' "Oh, Mrs. Ponsonby does not charge me as she does other people. I know how to manage her," Leonora answered carelessly. The new gown was a triumph of art. Helen's was a style of beauty which needed no embellishment from colour. She always looked loveliest in white, and this last acbievement was simplicity itself. A white satin gown, plainly cut, w\th a Ions train, tmd with no other trimming than a cascade of ostiich feathers, soft and pure as snow- flakes. A cluster of thete snow white plumes adorned the bodioe, ami accentuated the dazzling fairness of the wearer's bust and shoulders. Mrs. Belfield had been admired last sea- son, but she had not been talked about. This year it suddenly dawned upon that particular section of society â€" ^neither the best nor the worstâ€" in which Mrs. Baddeley moved, that Mrs. Belfield was the new. beauty. Perhaps she would hardly havl been so promptly elevated to this sodal i^- nacle if it had not been at the same period discovered that St. Austell was over iiead and ears in love with her. Nobody had a word to say agabist the lady as yet, but it was obvious to everyone except to the lady herself, who saw nothing extraordinary in in the fact of his Imrdship's piesenoe. She knew that he was a man about town, and she did not know that the drde in which she and her sister moved, lay for tiw most part outside tiiat inner sanctuary efpKtrioian society to ^rtioh St. Austell banged. She accepted his afetenttons at first witii supreme indlffnenoe. He was her sister's admirer. He had been devoted to hef rister at HoriBomb two years ago, and she had no ideaofanyobaaaeinhissentjmaati. Lso^ flirtatams and Leo's admirers inire taken for gntated by Lm^s sister. Thowvapiio hi^ in aaymdi dttvia^ens from^ttc IliMl* St. AHMidlfH«iz«d. of m mAlmu m* inity who vH i Beaehingte inrt sno e, votedTBe cmtttaOf bigtn elder sister, and to co ne e n te ate his atfeni- tionsnpui the yonnget. Ho.woold ^end five n ten minnteswitti Mrs. Baddeley, and then come across to Mrs. Belfield's draw- ing-room Witt a book or a pieaeef moslc, or tickets for apatm or tlieatre â€" ^tlwets wldoh had been sent him by importunate mana- gers, aooording to iiis own account. " I was told last night that people had to wut six weeks to get staUs,*^ Helen said, incredulously, on one occasion when Sb. Austell brought her three places for a fash- ionable theatret " and yet the manager gives tickets." " Strange, isn't it. The feUow will send me tickets. They like to see me in the stalls. By-the-bye, that ia lost the objection to those tickets. Yon wfll have me as an incubus. It wonld be bad form to accept the places and not show myself. If you and Mrs. Baddeley go, will you much mind taking me, or perhaps Mr. Belfield might go with yon, and would let me make a third." "He wonld be delighted, bub I'm afraid there's no chance of his going. He has so many evening engagements." " Of course. 1 uow his set. Men who always spend their evenings together. And will you and Mrs. Baddeley really not mind having me T" " How could we be to ungrateful." " Oh, but I won't come if I am to be asked out of gratitude. That would make me actually an incubus. May I come, Mrs. Belfield 7 Just tell me, my society won't spoil your evening." " How can in, when we meet almost every evening," Helen answered, naively. " If I didn't wish to see you I should never go any- where, for somehow or other we are always meeting.^' " Society is like the last figure of the Lan- cers," said St. Austell. " Yon must needs meet the same people over and over again. Meeting and passing on and the last chord severs one even from one's own partner." When was the time that Helen began to watch the door for the appearance of Lord St. Austell, as she had once watched for the coming of her husband, only that in this lat- ter case there was no disappoinment When was it that the assembly firat began to brigh- ten at his coming when was it that his voice first began to ' move her like music When was it that the day only began in that lazy afternoon hour when etiquette allowed his lordship's visite to the Japanese drawing- room, whi^h daily looked more and more like a tropical bower, beautified by the flowers which he sent every morning, musi- cal with the rare and costly birds which he had chosen for ite adornment He could never remember how and when her sin began how it was that she passed from the liberty of perfect innocence to the constraint of conscious guilt but she awak- ened one day to the discovery that the hus- band she once adored had become indiffer- ent and was growing odious to her, and that the man who pursued her with unspoken love was the sole master of her heart and of her fate. (to BE CONTINUKD.) AiiSO BIS G£AT SULFAUB MIBES. TUrty HllUon Tons of Brtmstone in one Island. Sulphur is of two kinds, one of which is of volcanic emanation, the other being closely allied to sedimentary rocks. The latter is found in Sicily, on the southern and central portions of the island. Mount Etna, situated in the East, seems to exert no influence in the formation o* brimstone. There are various hypotheses relative to ite natural formation. Dr. Philip Svrarzenburg attributes it to^tbe einanations of sulphur vapor expelled from metallic matter existing in the earth, conse- quent upon the fire in the latter, while Pro- fessors Ho£Fman and Bischoff ascribe it to the decomposition of sulphureted hydrogen. Hoffman believes the sulphureted hydrogen must have pasaed through the fissures of stratified rocks, but Bischoff is of opinion that the sulphureted hydrogen must have been the resuls of the decoinposition of sulphate of lime in the presence of organic matter. The theory of others is that sulphur owes ito origin to the com bination of lacustrine deposito with ve- getable matter, and others again suppose that it is due to the action of the sea upon animal retrains. The huge banks of rock salt, often met with in the vicinity of sul- phur mines, and which in someplace streteh for a distance of several miles, seem to indi- cate that the sea has worked ito way into snbsoiL Fish and insecto which are frequent- ly found in strata of tripoli, which lie under sulphur beds, induce the belief that lakes existed in Sicily. Sulphur mint s have been operated in Sicily over three hundred years, but until the year 1820 its exportation was confined to narrow limits. .At present tixe number of mines existing in Sioliyisabout three hundred, nearly twehundrod of which, beiiw operated on credit, are, it is understood, Msoned to an early demise. It is said that there are about 30,000,000 tons of snlphnrin Sicily at present, and that the annual production amounts to about 400,000 tons. U this should be true, taking tiie foregoing as a basis, tlw supply will oeoome exhausted in about seventy-five years. Medical Aid. Neighbor â€" " How is yonr husband to-day, Mrs. Jones T" Mrs. Jonesâ€"" He is very iU, indeed." " Worse tium he was f "0, ves the nurse says he is beyond the reach of doctors now." "Fm glad to hear it." "Whatf " Fm slad to hear it. Now, if you can only Iteop liim beyond their reaob, I think he win get well rapidly." On the Boad to Fame. Friend (to yonns physician) â€" "How are yon getting on prOTemonally, doctw T" Yoong phynoianâ€" " Famonsly. Since I was fortnnate enough to be called into the oaae of old Mr. TrilBon, my renatation has ra^dly eoctended; anotlunr case like that and my fortune is made." Friendâ€"" But Mr. TrilBon died." Y. onng phyaJCTanâ€" " That doesnt matter. " MAF8 IBIESJ^ AHD £HEI[T. An Aeeennt of tke Mere Invortant â- ICk Bxvleslvcs. Few wonld imagine, as they watch tiie coal quietly glow and consome away in tho grate, that there are present all the materials necessary for predndng an explosion yet such is the ease, and it has been found taat the ignition of coal-dust laden ur is a not infrequent sanroe of disastrous explosions in coal mines. What has occurred with coal may occur with any oomhustible solid which is findy pulverized and suspended in air, and in this manner the explosions of flour which destroy- ed several flour mills in Minneapolis in 1878 are accounted for. The explosions of saw- dust in the Pullman car shops and at Gel- dowsky's furniture factory, the explosions of starch in a New York candy factory, of rice in rice mills, and of dust in breweries and spice mills, are among the many examples of the action of a simihur cause but perhaps the most ususual case of this class of explo- sions was that of finely powdered zinc, which occurrea in 1854 at the Bethlehem zinc works. Two British men-of-war, the Doterel and the Triumph, have been blown up, owing to the presence on board of a dryer for painto of which benzine formed a part and the ser- ious explosion in Pawtncket and the more disastrous one in itschester, arose from naph- tha having been permitted to escape into the sewers. The modem high explosives are bodies which contain within their molecules the ele- mento necessary for ordinary combustion, while at the same time they are more or less cndothermous and the best example, and perhaps the most important, of these is the mercury fulminate. This substance was dis- covered by Howard in 1800, and was made by dissolving mercury in nitric acid and pour- ing the solution into alcohol. Ite discovery aroused the liveliest interest, and it was im- mediately tested by firing in a musket, but, though it imparted very little velocity to the projectile, and produced only a slight recoil and report, it burst the barrel of the piece completely open and hence it was relegated to the position of a chemical curiosity until recalled for use as a priming for percussion caps. Ite adaptation to modern uses began in 1863, when Nobel discovered that by the ex- plosion of a few grains of this substance ni- tro-glycerine might be detonated, and was extended 1868, when Mr. E. 0. Brown dii- covered that not only could dry gun cotton be detonated by this means, but that if a small initial mass o^ dry gun cotton was de- tonated in contact with a mass of wet cotton, the latter would le also detonated, even though it were completely satarated with water. Baron von Lenk of Austria took up the stody of this material in 1833, and his efforts to periect the methods of manufacture and to moderate the violence of the gun charges were attended with such apparent success that a special battery of 12 pounders was con- structed for use with it, and the position of the explosive seemed assured, until 1865, when his magazines blew up spontaneously, and the article was interdicted by the (Gov- ernment. While the Austrian experiments were go- ing on, Abel, the chemist to the War Depart- ment of Great Britain, was also engaged in the stody of the properties of this substance, and the same year in which Austria proscrib- ed the article he announced the invention of the process by which its manufacture has since been successfully carried on. Gun cotton constitutes the best military explosive known, for, while its explosive force vatstly exceeds that of gunpowder and approaches that of nit^roglycerine, it is the safest an i most stable explosive we possess, since it can be stored and transported wet and, when in this state, though it may oe deconated as described above, it cannot be exploded in any other way. As much as 2,- 000 pounds of wet compressed gun cotton have been placed in a tierce bonfire, where it has gr: lually dried, layer by layer, and been consumed without exploding. Besides, gun cotton is the only militaiy explosive which can be detonated with certeinty when frozen. In calling it a military explosive I mean, of course, for use in torpedoes and for military mining, and not as a substitute for gunpowder in guns but it may be, and has been, successfully used as a charge for shells fired from gunpowder guns both in this coun- try and abroad. Shells conteining as much as 110 pounds of gun cotton have been re- peatedly fired in Germany. The most prominent rival ot gun cotton for military uses and the best explosive for industrial purposes, is nitro glycerine uid the mixtures of which it forms apart. This substance was discovered by Sobrero in 1847, while carrying out a series of experimente under Pelonza. Ito liquid form nuJces it dif- ficult to store and transport, and permtte it to find ite way into unexpected places, where it conetitates a source of danger. Consid- erations such as these led Nobel, about 1867, to invent dynamite. The name is now ap- plied to a great variety of nitro-glycerine mixtures, but they all consist of a porous solid absorbent which sucks np the liquid nitro-glycerine by capillarity and holds it in its_pores or interstices. The most important nitro-glycerine mix- ture is explosive gelatine, also invented by NobeL This is made by heating nitro-gly- cerine on a water bath and adding to it mm 7 to 10 per cent, of soluble gun cotton. The largest nngle charges ever fired were employed in the blowing np of Hallett's Beef and Flood Book. In the latter, which oc- curred Oct. 10, 1885, the charge consisted of 240,399 pounds of rack-a-rook, and 48,537 pounds of dynamite No. 1, yet so nicely was this enormous diarge oalcolated for the work it was to do, that Myond l««akiiig down the rock, tossing up an enormonsbody of water to a height (estimated for the tallest jet) of 160 feet, and generating an earth-wave which was observed as far east as Cambridge, Mass., it prodnoed no visible effsot. 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