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CHAPTER 3:. Mrs: ‘Minny was oddly pale and quiet when Oliver met her in the hotel parlor. She looked as if she had not slept ; and his I Oliver: “grub” heart throbbed at the pain he had caused her. 0! course she had worried about her strange position and the trouble in Denver on account of it. He could tell her at least the fear of the divorce was over. Death had settled the case. Yet it was hard to tell her of that death. He hesitated and talked of the weather. _“ It is always horrid in Chicago,” she said mournfnlly. " I shall hate this hotel, too; they would not let. me have Skye in my_ room ; they put him in some cellar, and he was not like himself when I took him for a little walk before you came.” Oliver had a bunch of roses he had bought for her on his way, but it seemed even heartless to offer them to such an afflicted being. However, he sat down be- side her on the sofa and laid the flowers on her lap. “ Thank you,” she said mournfully. “I l don’t think I ought, to wear them. The chambermaid asked me if I was askirt- dancer.” The gloom settled on Oliver now. “ She was impudent,” he said, crossly. “ You see how impossible it is for a young lady to go to hotels alone.” “ Well, you didn’t offer to come with me," she sighed : “ you even went to an- other hotel. Oh, I know l I looked for you in the register.” “ You were down in the office?” “I had to go down for my dog and to tell them how mean they were," Mrs. Minny said, wearily. “And you don’t She is so brave ; she said she wouldn’t be afraid of him living or dea . ” . “ Minny, you are tilking foolishly,” said " No dead person comes back. I am ashamed of you. And to be so ' silly, so heartless, when that poor soul is lying dead 1” “ You don’t know anything about the dead; no one does," she gasped. “ My grandfather was drowned at sea, and that night he came and knocked at grandmother’s door-«his old knockâ€"three times. Even Aunt Hannah says that story‘s true. I can’t be sorry,-â€"truly 1 can’t. I was afraid all the time ; and he was so dreadiul. I gave him all mamma's money, and he took herjewels, everything of value. I am not a hypocrite. Mr. Oliver; I can't make up sorrow just to please you.” “I don’t want you to,” he whispered close to her car. They wore alone in a corner of the big room, and no one could see. “Ispcke hastily because I hated to think of that dream and how you would make yourself believe he came back." She drew away from him indignantly. “I am not a child, Mr. Oliver, and you must not treat me as one. In some things in sud‘ering and worry, I am older than you are; and few women could come out unscathed from the horrors of that ranch. I did. I kept my reason because I was friv- olous and had my little dog to love, and a brightsunshinyday would chase all my night terrors away. I’d say ‘ Minny, it's good just to be alive.’ But always I have been afraid in the dark ; whenI was aohild queer faces used to peer at me, faces circled in yellow light. As I grew older, I was more afraid of them, and slept in a lighted room. At know what an, awful great ghostly room I the “Dell Hen“ “39d ‘0 01‘an “P the POTCh . they gave me, full of closets and wardrobes and places for people to hide. I burned the gas all night, and I had dreadful dreams. ” She bowed her head over the flowers and sighed again. “ Roses make me think of funerals : do they you?” ’ “ I am sorry I troubled you with them,” Oliver said stillly. “ Now you are cross, and you’ve got that little wrinkle on your forehead." She looked at him thoughtfully. “ When you are smiling I think you are the kindest friend in the world. I guess I am cross myself. Do you know, I dreamed Henri came into that room last night. The bath-room had a little window looking into the room, and I dreamed he looked through this at me and made dread- ful faces. He used to frighten me that way once,”â€"shs blushed and hung her head then, and was silent s. moment,â€"“when We were first married, you know. He’d wake me up by storing at me,-â€"testing the power of the eye, he called it. I was afraid, anyway, because my mother had just died, and I had never seen a dead person before. I can see her yet in her colfiu,so dreadfully wuxen and strange. Henri swore once over the Bible that if he died first he would come back and haunt me. After the dream I couldn't sleep, but lay siiivering With fear until daylight. I must go away from here to-day. Another night in that room would frighten me to death.” . She trembled so at the thought, Ollvel‘ felt his task doubly diflicult. “ Don‘t you think,” he asked, gently, “ that those fears are very cliiltllSll 1’" “ Of course,” she said, briefly. “I know I am not sensible ; you, Aunt Hannah, and Doctor John call me frivolous ; yet I have tried to do right. I came here on my way to save your good name, and I get scolded. I tried to go home once,â€"the time I was so sick; and even Aunt Hannah said I was brave then. When my horse ran away in Maine I held on,and that red-headed young man said 1 was game. " She looked at him wickedly out of the corner of her eye. A little smile curved her pretty mouth as she saw the wrinkle on his forehead. “ I wish you could be serious for a little while," Oliver muttered. “I want to talk to you about something that concerns your future,-â€"-â€"somotliing that has happened.” Oliver hesitated now :' how could he tell her? She listened with her eyes on the our- pet, ’a doleful expression on her face. He went. off on a new tack. In an easy con- versational tone he asked,â€" “ \Vould you not like tolive in France ‘2” “No,” she said, promptly: "I should hate it." “ Why '3" “ Becauseâ€"because," answered Mrs. Minny.picking viciously at one of her roses, scattering the petals on the floor, “from Henri’s descriptions his relations must be horrid. Then he or they think America queer and not nice ; everything is France. 1 should be mad a hundred times aday. The English up in the Park used to say, ‘ This blarsted country, you know,’ until I felt like saying, ‘ Why don’t you go back to England and stay there 2’ To the De Restands Ishould be the. unpleasantforeign- or our poor son married; in my own couno try I am myself, an American. I think it is very mean of you to talk about my going to France; and if this is the. serious thing you needn‘t talk any more. If you are going to be horrid I think [shall go out and take my dog for a walk.” How sweet she was in her wilfulncss! Oliver forgot his errand, looking at the lovely childish face with month and rebellious eyes. “ I think you are cruel to my poor rose," he said, softly. “ You are cruel to me." ’ “ Minny," he drew nearer and took in his firm warm clasp her little hand, "I must tell you somethingâ€"something that will shock and grieve you. Try ainilm bravo.” “ Not the little baby 3" she criczlquitceus- ly. ” lie is not dead 2” “No, no; but some one is dcad,~â€"onc that you feared, almost hated. and now mus: forgive and try to think kindly of,â€" the man whose name you bearâ€"~-" She gave a frightened cry and hid her face against his sleeve. He could feel her tremble and quiver, but she made no sound. “'hat must he do! “'ould she faint? How i did women act, anyway! lie put his arm l around the cowering figure and tried tolook ; into her face. She was ghastly pale, in her? eyes a curious frightened look. " My dream. Mr. Oliver 2" she cried, shuddering. “Oh, he will keep his w:rd:£ he will haunt me always. I shall go mad‘ from fear. List night that was him. Hei looked just as he used to when he woke me i up making faces. I am all alone. What shall ldo! Oh. if Aunt Hannah were only? here 2 I could cheep up to her in the night. its pouting and peer in the window with a mask on, I until I shot one night : then it was not so ' funny. It amused him to torture me. I won't tell you any more, you can't under- 1 stand. But. I shall not go to Denver. It would be a. mockery.” “ Doctor John telegraphed you need not â€"-you must not come. Shall I tell you any more ‘2” “No.” She rose and scattered the petals of one of her flowers on the carpet, brush- ing her dress With a. trembling hand. “Nor will I put on black. I shall go home; What is my home, Mr. Oliver ‘2” she cried, accusingly. “You have brought me here. I was doing your bidding. My aunt has left me: she has taken my baby. The man Imsrried is dead: he has no interest in me but to haunt me. Everybody is gone. I who have made all the trouble am left to bear it alone. If she comes back she will know of this,â€"my being here: she will mistrust me; even Doctor John will. I seem to have grown old and wise, and, oh, so tired of the world i” “Come here, Minny,” he said in a strange tone. She started, and looked into his l face. It had a different expression some- how, yet the gray eyes were very kind, and there was a tender smile about his mouth. She hesitated, then she returned to the sofa, sitting gingerly at the extreme end. « He turned so as to face her, but sat nol nearer. “Minny, we are both culprits,â€"innocent ones. \Vc have been punished long enough. If I thoughtâ€"~â€"-but I am twice your ago, ' you have not been happy in bondage, and it would be bondage still, though a. lovmg one.’ No red-haired young man in it, no. wild journeys alone, no drawing back when I once entered in. If I dared to dream, Ii would hope that you cared for me. I would say, Minny, I love you; let us go away from our troubles and have a long vacation. It is dreadful to talk this way in the shadow of death, but I cannot let you go back to M sine alone or to the terrors there in that lonely house. I do not know where your aunt is, or when she will return; and if people should talk of this time, 1 could silence them if you. were my wife." She was strangely quiet, but he saw the roses tremble on her breast. “ You talk, Craig,” she said, sadly, “as if this were part of your sacrifice for help» ing me once, for being a kind friend.” “How cruel women can be,â€"-even the sweetest of them l How can I be different, when I must remember the dead in Denver? Yet, Minny, I could talk love to you ; other women have said I did that thing well, and I did not care for them : Your little finger is more precious to me than all the women I have ever known.” She sighed and moved a little nearer, a blush on her fair cheek. “Even to touch you, to take your hand seems dreadful,” he cried hastily. “What a coward custom makes of us all ! If it were a year now, instead of a day. Let the worst come.” He took her cold little hand in his and drew her to his side. Shall we go forth on our holiday, Minny, leaving no address, forgetting the past,and he as if the world wej-e new and we but just _ created 2” holding herself erect and stately in spite of his restraining hand, “but you said bondage, and that has frightened me. I have been scolded so much and driven about ; I want to be loved and made a friend of. If you would be as sweet as on that ride, if vo‘x-___--_.H He drew her close and pressed his lips against that soft round cheek blushing so prettin now. “Try me, Minny. I swear to you those dcar eyes shall never shed tears from any word or act of mine. I have loved you since you came out in the light that dismal right and I thought you a little girl.” “And I loved you," she whispered, lifting her tousled head from his arm, “when you looked so disgustcdly amazed at things in that ranch that I told you, and all of a: sudden'smiled on me as you are smiling now. Craig, I mean to try and be grown-up and good always." “No, no; just be yourself. And now. . dear, go smooth your hair and get youri things on. \Ve will be married in the l quietest way. I know a couple of fellows I can get for witnesses : We can pick them up 3 on the road." ; “You talk nicely now,” she said slowly, I ’had taken, looked out on the street with unseeing eyes. 'In his heart, though, he was Restand isdead. happy, delirionsly so. He had loved her from the first, and there had been few holi~ days in his busy life. He would forget that hastly spectre lying at the morgue in enver, and for me: ths li re for love. The world lay all before them : they would put the past by. “I will steal my happiness from life,” he cried. “Let the world condemn me. I can fight her battles ; and no man knowing my story and hers, seeing her frightened, tortured by that maniac’s memory, would do otherwise than I do now.” Mrs. Minny appeared in her jauntv trav- ellingosuit, her seal-skin jacket, 8. dainty dotted veil over her hat, and her dog under her arm. “I never get married like other people,” she said,cheerfully. “Look at me in these clothes : and the other time I had on an old dress, too.” Oliver winced. “Perhaps at the third you'll have better luck, my pet.” “I have said something awful,I suppose,” she laughed, “ but I am so happy I don’t care,and Isaid good-byeto that ghost-room. Oh, I'm so glad I’ve got somebody alive to be with l” “I believe you are marrying me out of fear,” he said, as they drove along in the carriage. ~ “You don’t think that, sweetness,” she said, contentedly ; “and you have got your lovely look. You always were like a man out of a novel to me. A city bachelor, Aunt Hannah says. Won’t she be surpris- ed ? but, do you know, she said I had lean- ings towards you all the time.” Mrs. Minny was very reserved when the two strange gentlemen joined them, and when the marriage service was being read qrclnbled a little, until Skye, yawning dolcfullyâ€"he had not slept well, poor dog, in the hotel cellarâ€"made her smile and sue was radiant when the solemn ceremony was over. They were mar- ried in a shabby parsonage of an out-of-the way church, by an underfed person in threadbare clothes, and Minny’s generous heart rejoiced when she caught a glimpse of a fifty-dollar bill Oliver paid for the few moments’ talk that meant so much,â€"the ceremony that is, after all, the strongest link in the chain of human happiness. Oliver had told his two friends something of the events preceding this strange mar- riage, so they Were tactful enough to say the right things at the little dinner the four had in the very private room where Minny had eaten the day before. Skye behaved pretty well, and the only cloud on his mis- tress’s brow was when one of the strangers stupidly asked if the dog was going on the wedding-trip. “ Of course,” she said, decidedly. “ Of course,” echoed Oliver, meekly, and the two guests smiled the old, old smile of the married man who knows. “It was it little like Hamlet,” Minny whispered when she and her husband, and of course the dog, drove to the- depot,â€" “ the wedding-feast.” He laid his finger lightly on her lips. “ Sweet, there are things best unsaid.” “ You will find me so full,of faults,” she sighed, in remarkable meekness. “Skye, give me your paw ; this is your new pups, and if he gets cross, why, I can pet you. It grill be no new experience to you,-unhappy og.’ Then Oliver laughed and hugged her. “ “What a child you are l” he said. At the depot he sent a telegram tr.- Doc- tor John : “I have married Mrs. de Restaud. Vile are off on a trip, and want to hear nothing from Denver. Tell my clerks I won’t be home for four months. Have sent word to Jones and Bailey to take my cases. I am happy and she is divine. We have the dog along.” “ Craig Oliver." W hen, after two months’ absence, Oliver telegraphed Doctor John to forward his mail to St. Augustine, the first letter he opened was one addressed to himself from New- castle, Maine. Mrs. Minny leaned on his shoulder as he read : “Dear Mr Oliver,â€" “ The first thing I saw on my getting home from Paris, France, was a letter in my niece Minny's unreadable handwriting, which she says is Italian, but is as hard to read as a picket fence. I would have wrote right away. but the house was in such a muss from shiftless peopleâ€"I left some Baileys in charge of itâ€"that I had to turn to and go house-cleaning before I could live in the place. I made out that Minny was married to you, and most likely on the very day her first husband was being buried. I do hope folks here won’t learn of it: my family has given the village more to talk about than they ever had before, and they are dragging me over the coals now. Most of ’em knows I’ve been to France, and they poster me to death inquiring round. “ I guess j on about felt obliged to marry “I can't have no regrets that Mister do He was a dreadful profit. less man to everybody, and made Minny unhappy enough.’ 1 hope he had change of heart alore he died in that asylum: but DoctorJolin wrote he didn‘t know anything. It was good of Doctor John to go there and stay by him : there ain’t, to my mind, many men angels walking about on earth, but the doctor’s one of ’em. Before I for- get it, bring him with you when you come down next summer, asl hope you will come .\lr. Oliver, for I set a store by you on ac. count of your kindness to the poor child.” ‘ You see she pats you on the back now,’ chirped Mrs Minny. “ Before I close my letter I must tell you about my visit to Paris, France; and, though it seemed heartless to take Fanny away, Minny is honest about it and she will tell you I done right. I was mortal afraid Henry would steal him off, and, ashc is a croupy child, he would get his death: so I just took him myself across ocean to Henry’s folks. I wa’n’t in cell sick on the voyage, nor the baby, but was bothered most in France on account of folks not understand- ing me. Howsomevor, there was some Philadelphia people along that I got so. quainted with, and they set me right, for they could talk with the French. Finally, when I got to the general’s house, coming in ajcab that charged a mortal bill for waiting on account of me being interested in talking, I found the'general inâ€"a fine old man, too, and he could talk English reasonable well. I up and told himeverything, keeping Fran- kyon my lap. ‘ Now,‘ says I,‘if you don’t want this poor little child and treat him as your own,I take him to my home, forI'm well- to-do, and the little oreetur’s grown into my affections.’ Goodness me, he knowed most of it, that man Lewis having kept him informed. He sat right down and talked friendly as possible, said Minny ought to have come to him, he would treat her as a daughter; then his eyes filled with tears, and he took little Franky in his arms and told me their Alphonse was dead, and his eldest son’s wife was a helpless invalid who wept night and day. I took my things and went upstairs with him' to her room,â€" such a grand house lâ€"and there she was, a pale little creetur, that could only jabber in French; but baby smiled on her, -â€"babies knows any. lunguage,â€"and she shook hands kind ’with me, and the up- shot of the matter was I stayed two weeks in their house, till Frankie got acquainted with the new nurse. I forgot to tell you I never thought of that cab till I was eating dinner three hours afterwards; and I jump- ed right up, and was running out, but Henry’s brother, a respectable solemn- looking man, sent one of the help out, and and a bill there must have been, but he wouldn't let me settle. Tom I left, news of Henry’s death come, and upset them all, and then Lewis and Annette was ex- pected, and, as I didn’t want to see them two,â€"â€"especially him,â€"-I went away. They sent a cordial invite for Minny to come but I told them I guessed she’d like Amer- ica. best, as I do, where you can tell what folks say when they are talking. “The they would legally adopt Franky, and I told ’em you would sign any as I known you wouldâ€"for the boy’s sake. He will have a fine property some day. l was awfully lonesome going home; my old arms was empty, and I cried myself to sleep lots of nights. “I will now close. Be good to Minny, Mr. Oliver, and come down early and stay all summer. “Yours to command, “HANNAH PATTES.” Sometimes, as the years glide by, Mrs. Minny’s arms are empty too, and her heart yearns for the little baby over the sea. No other child has come to her, and her hus- band frowns at the mention of 9 journey to France: he is jealous of even the little hold the lost baby has on her affections: so there is a thorn in her bed of roses. Skye, too, is old and sleepy ; or is it herself who has no desire for play? Is she becoming grown-up and different? Will he love her just the same, perhaps more? He must tire of her childishness. But he does love her, and so fondly. ' Oliver, on his part, saw the decay of his political prospects with calmness. He heard one day at the club something they did not wish him to hear. A knot of men were discussing the possibility of his secur- ing the nomination for governor in the coming election. “Never in the world," said one of his friends. “ There is some story about his wife : she does not go in society at allâ€"s. pretty little thing. I wonder, though, how a man can throw away his future for a pretty face.” “ What was wrong?” asked another. “ I’m not sure,” answered the first. “I do know he married her the day after her husbandâ€"that crazy French fellow, De Res- taudâ€"died, and that he ran away with herons Minny to take care of her,and I foresee shc i, night from her home up in the North Park set a store by you before her first husband ' Oliver lisd a shooting box there. died. I was right, too. in questioning you couldn’t make . . Well, folks’ ways is diiferentlexodus of our Wives to the East: they If I'd had niece Minny’s bad Inever would call on her.” about her. nowadays. luck with one man I never should have tak- en snother one.” Oliver looked back into the may leaning over his chair. with a soft little kiss, ' “she don’t dream how lovely you are l Read on : I don’t care. Aunt Hannah’s letters are like cold shower- batlis: they send chills all over you, and stings, but make you feel good afterwards." “I am sure, though, you, being well on in years, can regulate Minny’s conduct, and be stern with her, too. Mrs. Poole is mighty bitter towards Minny for her goings- on with Sam, and says he’s taking to smoking cigars and playing billiards since she rode with him and acted so flirtatiously. But Minny didn’t do much." (“ Aunt Hannah's rclenting,’ Mrs. Minny.) “And that Poole boy ain’t half baked. anyway: none of tho l’ooles over were. I want you to see that Minny wears her rubbers when it's wet, and takes care of herself; for her mother's folks is weakly, and her mother died of consumption.” Oliver drew his wife to his knee, and I laughed 55'” lllml‘e‘l “P a“ "’53" “‘1 {miiinz- f“ dropping the letter,looke.l at her anxiously. the door she_lopked bass. ‘_‘..lay I use, «The puma! are awfully yongqivcd’u the drill. Crfllgi'Slle 53l‘l'l‘031l3‘fl‘2‘Y-_ lshe said, merrily. “Don't be a goose. H" 3"““‘-d- "Of “unev” beam-l; "Elgn‘ lShe didn‘t think I would hear that. you edly. “ You don’t have to ask ‘ may I '2’ 3 know.” we are cam-"35m- ysm know?- By the wait: ”i shall take. you to Doctor John," he tell the ciiamoermanl to pack your trunk. as)“. seriously, "when we get, home}? I"? h”- “e “1” S0 “‘“Y m "‘9 earl)”, “I like him so much 5" she murmured. afternoon. 1 want to be free from all z n [n my trunk I have hi. gmrlkil;g.cap; ,. ., _ h . m°ffmmf3~ _ I’ll give it back, now I have you. I kept Sue kissed her hand as size ran away. and i, to “gummy” our rim, by.“ he, somewhat dosed at. the turn matters, :ivc; wok up we leg,“ 53m; 1 I ! You him governor; regular The words stung Oliver a little ; but that evening, when his wife ran to meet him at face ‘ the door wearing a little yellow gown, too, “ Well, Minny? ” g as in that night in the past, with Skye at “ You dear thing,” cooed Mrs Minny, l her heels, he smiled in content. How in- finitely small were all honors men might give man beside the real heart-happiness of love! He thought he would rather be married than be President ; and be blessed the kind- ly fate that led him to the valley of the Troublesome and the little Troublesome lady there. [THE 331).] ~â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"- As Others See Us. THE TRUU_B_L_E§_Ql/lE LADY. - l general give me to understand swordfish- ‘ ., action under a test which may be called‘ crucial, so largely does sentiment enter in to the question.a[l‘hiladelphia Record. " , TERRIFlCâ€"COMBAT IN THE OCEAN l-‘lght lo the Death Between Three Oreas and a In: Whale. Hank \Velsh, who has followed whaling for many years,was lucky enough to bonus of a crew beyond the gulf of the Holy Cross last spring that came upon a large whale iu distress,surrounded by three monster cross, or billers, which had him winded and bad- ly wounded. The story of the fight he tells as follows : . " \Ve saw a big broadhead half a mile away to windward, and he kept a jumping so hard that we knew he was in trouble: \Vhen we got closer we saw some thrashers or billers afoul of him, and the water for an acre or two around was bloody. The cross were pretty big ones and very vicious, especmlly one, which was fully twenty feet long, and when the whale went down a few fothoms this old boy rushed down after him, and gave it to him hard. You see a whale can stay under about half an hour, and he can go down 400 to 5120 fathoms without minding the pressure, but he can’t do a single submarine trick ahead of an orca, These orcas sometimes chase a whale so hard that when he hits the bottom he breaks his jawbone. Well, this old orca followed the whale so savagely that he did not stay down over five minutes at a time, and when he came up he was jumped on by the other two, which kept watch on him like two hungry wolves. When he saw the ferocious gang he seemed to lose heart, for they were too quick for him. I think he was just about worn out or downhearted or something, for he anchored for a second. This gave the big area a chance to slide up and catch him by the under lip and hits a piece out. The old fellow lashed and dived, but down went another area after him. “W hen the whale came up the orca had him by the lip, and the third one caught him by the tongue. Now, a whale’s tongue is six feetlong and weighs its much as a man. The way the cross jerked it all out; of him piece by piece and then ate off his Iowa? lip in spite of all he could do beat all the fights under the sun. How that whale did suffer till we got up and let a dynamite bomb into him. When Bill Peters lauced him he seemed to enjoy it, for he turned over and died easily.” It seems to be agreed among sllwhalcrs that no fight ever seen equals the awful combats which these sea monsters wage against one another with unilaggiug ferocity. The orca is the ohly grampus or warm- blooded animal of the ocean that constantly preys upon warm-blooded creatures of his own kind, preferably the whale, the largest of his species. The crca’s habits are pre- datory, and his strength and ferocity are remarkable. “The cross often travel with swordfish," said Capt. Thompson, an old wlialer, “and I have sometimes seen a whole school in combat With four or five areas and a few When the swordfish get under a whale and the cross commence to tear his documenm_ under lip and tongue, which are choice morsels for them, he seems to know his days are numbered. I don't know how long a whale can live after these savage creatures attack him, but our crew have found several caresses of whales which have bled to death from the wounds thus inflicted by their enemies. I have also seen broken bucked orcas which had been struck by s. whale’s fiukes.” ELECTRIC LIGHT FOR FARMS. A New Plan to lltlllzo \Vlnlllllllll for Lightng Plants. In order to test the practicability of manufacturing electricity by windmill power a company has ' installed a generatv ing plant in one of the windmills at the works of A. J. Corcoran, Jersey City, N. J., the well-known builder of windmills, and during a recent visit of the writer to these works the operation of the system was demonstrated to its fullest advantage, says the Electric Engineer. The dynamo, driven by belt from the main gear, charges a. set -of storage batteries. It is so designed that through- out the wide variation of speed of the Windmill it maintains the potential constant. The automatic switch. which constitutes the only auxiliary apparatus in the entire system, is so arranger as to close the circuit to the battery when the dynamo speed is such as to generate an E. M. F. equal to the counter E. M. F. of the bat- tery. At this point the cells begin to be charged, and as soon as the dynamo pres- sure falls below the required potential the cut out acts so as to prevent the battery from discharging through the dynamo. The switch is so designed that it opens and closes the circuit when the current itself is at zero, and hence no sparking occurs at the contact points, while the brushes on the dynamo remain fixed under all condi- tions of working. The Corcoran mill at Jersey City has a diameter of eighteen feet, and at a s iced of twenty miles an hour is capable of ( elivcr- ing three horse power. The dynamo is driven by belt in the manner shown, having a maximun current capacity of thirty-five amperes at thirty-hve volts, and is cut into action when the speed is 600 revolutions er minuteâ€"that is, when an eight-mile )rceze is blowing. The machine is of the ironclad type, entirely inclosed, and occupies a floor space of only thirty inches square and fifteen inches high. The plant, though merely an oxperimcn‘ to] one, has operated without a single mis- hap from the start, and the storage cells furnish currentfor twenty-four incandescent Across the border them hm, just been l lamps distributed through the workshops. concluded a plebisCite, in which women took part, which ought to dispose of the charge that women voters flock like sheep The smoothness of working and the evident reliability of the entire arrange- ment leave little room for doubt that we and cut, their b311,,“ blindly a, prejudice or shall see a wide application of this system. fashion or assooiation impels them. This was the vote, in the l’rovmce of Ontario, on the question whether the Legislature of of that province should enact a prohibitory liquor law. The l l l -.â€"-.â€"-.. Dr, John Murray's proposed expedition to the south pole is attracting favourable attention in Europe. ltis more than fifty general impression of ; years since James Ross, after discovering course would be that the women would vote‘ Victoria, penetrated to the 78th in a body for prohibition, with the idea that 2 south latitude, and since then, degree with the My” prohibition means temperance. On the l exception oithe Challenger, hardly a vessel contrary, the women of Ontario showed has gene that way. The present proposal themselves aimest as conservative in pm- is indrectly due to the reports brought portion to their numbers as the men. The back by a muple of Scotch whslcrc which great majority of boil: sexes voted for pro- in 1391 went southward of Cape. Horn in hibition; but, taking the city of Toronto for-3 tin-iv search for fresh hunting-grounds. illustration, it appears that more than one' Dr .‘vlurry believes in the existence at the out of five of the women vnled against it, ., south pole of a continent as large an Ant!- whilc hardly more than one out of three of ‘ trails, in which are to be studied the two the men ware opposed. This would s;cm' great pheocmcna of glaciation and vuleanid to show a capacity for independence of,r.ctiou.