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A week after the events of the last chapter the people oi San Francisco had something to talk about. Al- ready they had learned that, in con- sequence of the death 0! her mother, Haida Carringiord would not return to the stage {or a few days; and then, just as the time set by her manager for her return came. there gwas an additional sensation that she had disappeared. With this, by some singular chance. was whispered the fact that Caryl Wilton, the hand« some young Englishman, had disap- peared also. He had paid his bet without a word oi explanation, and had not been seen afterward. It was learned, however, that it was he who had taken the part 0! Home on the last night 0! Maida Caningford’s appearance. and the good people of San Francisco. with all the acumen which distinguishes the public in its relation to the stage. saw at once that the young lady had broken her mother's heart by running away with the proliigate young nobleman. You see. they recognized his nobility by his conduct. . For once at least. however. the public was wrong; for, whereas. Caryl was in the northern part of Caliior- nia hunting grizzlies, the young lady was on her way across the plains in a stage. having pram-red that route to the one by water. which was ac- counted dangerous then, by reason of the lever raging at Panama. SYNOPSIS 01" PRECEDING CHAPTERSâ€"Guy Ilutleigh leaves England to find his long lost cousin in San Francisco. Mauls: C‘arring- ford, an actress in that city, is peo- tered by genteel loafers amongst whom is Caryl Wilton who proposes nnd is rejected. She learns the story of her mother's betrayal. She let her head {all upon her} breast. and for a while there was no i word spoken between them. The; mother was thinking 01 the man: who had moved her with lalse prom-’ files, and the daughter, with a shudâ€".‘ der. was thinking 01 the man who! had stood in that very room, saying? to her much the same words that’ other false man had said to heri broken-hearted mother. And as she! thought. a detestation of all meni came over her. She had been hall inclined to let her heart solten to the man who had pleaded his cause. so nobly and tenderly. She couldi lee now that it was only a trap he was setting [or her. just as long ago her latherâ€"she winced at the thought --had set a trap for the loving heart of her mother. "Mother," she cried. with a new ring in her voice. “I will not falter. I will carry out your behest with a heart as cold as his own was when he ruined your young life."‘_ as Sir Richard IIartleigh. Ile mar? tied a Constance Faulkner. She was a beautiful girl, and she loved him with a passionate devotion, only equalled by his for her. IIeaven helped me when I seemed powerless to help myself. He was of a madly jealous temper, and he suspected his young wife. after five years of happi- ness. of unfaithfulness with a friend of his. He killed the man, and the wife fled from him, fearing him, even though she was innocent. He was too angry at lirst to try and find her. but after-Ward he learned in some Way that‘she had been true to him. and he tried to find her. I had been waiting for this time, and I watched over the fugitive woman. and in one way and another I made her believe that he was seeking her to take from her her little daughter. He put detectives on her track. but each time that they found her I would send her away and they would lose her. The wife he loved has lived the same outcast life as the woman he betrayed, and the hus- band and betrayer has suffered agon- “Wâ€"illvyou ”Maiaaihâ€"will you?" was the glad, eager cry. "Hear me. Your father is known to tho world _'-â€" - ics of remorée all these years. I have educated you so thatâ€"-â€" Oh, oh.â€"Maida, brandy! There, there; I cannot. last. long. lâ€"mustâ€"tellâ€" you. Nearer. Haida! lâ€"have edu- catedâ€"youfl More brandy! 1 canâ€" notâ€"sw-aIâ€"- 0h Yâ€"rememberâ€"proâ€" ;miseâ€"rcmemberâ€"oath! ' ’ 6: discgord 'have entered your heart --hutrcd and distrust. And only by purification in the crucible of love shun peace enter your soul. The wrecked and ruined life was gone. leaving a legacy of woe to the bright young life, hardly yet. out. on its journey. “AI'V wéll. you may weep, Maida Curringturd, for the tw:m brothers The stage was crowded, although there was but one other of her own sex in the company. This lady was young and beautiful. but the charm of her face was not in its beauty, but in its sweet, gentle expression, that told of a mind at peace with it- self and all the world. And yet it was not a weak (ace. It was full 0! "u- "v cellâ€"reliance and cheery courage; and Haida, with her wretchedness fresh upon her. was attracted by it. She sat at the farther end 0! the stage, gnd could not talk with her, but she achanged Smiles and glances occa- donally and finally, at supper-time, .503 they all alighted to eat at the little station. the tan) came together filth-sud! a mile of recognition, as ‘1 than Ila have travelled the The great transcontinental railway was not then finished, though it ex- tended some distance out of San Francisco. As far as it went Haida rode on it. and then exchanged it for the straying, lumbering stage, with its eight horses. CHAPTER lll.â€"-Continued CHAPTER I V. Maida did not ask the name of her companion, because she did not care to tell who she was, lest her name should betray her as the actress of whom all San Francisco was talking. And the other young lady, leeling as i! by instinct that Maida did not wish the question asked, proved her delicacy by not volunteering her name. . They became none the less good friends. and fell asleep in the swaying coach with shoulders touch- ing and hands clasped. How long they slept neither could have told, but the night was far ad- vanced when they were awakened by that sound so dreaded by every overland traveler before the great railway spanned the continentâ€"a man's voice speaking from the road- side. There was no mistaking the sound. It was a gruff, peremptory. voice. and it said: “Throw down that box!" "Road agents!" whispered Maida, and she and her new-found friend drew closer together. o a Yes , journey “It is a. hard ride," said the stranger. doubtfully. “I have been over the route once before, and know what it is. I hope you have plenty o! wraps, {or we shall get into cold- or parts before the night is spent." journey it. )0 "I, too," answered Maida with a smile, “have been over the stage route before, and am. prepared. I was about to warn you. I wonder it we could not sit together in the stage. It will be less lonely i! we have each other to say a word to once in a while.” ”Do you ride all night?” asked Maida, as they sat down to the rude meal together. "No box here,” growled the driver. Let go them horses. Lot ’01!) have it. boys.” The last was evidently addressed to the guards, who had mounted the stage as soon as darkness came on. There was a click of the hammers, and then a jeering laugh from the road. “Doctored!” was the exclamation from the roof. "Duck, and go it!" Although the words were in the slang:r of the road, the people in the stage had no difficulty in compre- hending what it meant. Indeed, the actions of the men on the stage and of those in the road explained them- selves without the help of any words. The words seemed rather in- volunt’ary, for they were simultan- eous with their actions. The whole dialogue was sharp and quick, and the startled passengers were hardly awake to the situation when they realized that the guns of the guards having been tampered with, they had determined to lash the horses be- yond the control of the detaining hands at their heads, and make the attempt to run the ambush. Every head was bent to shelter at the words of the guards. There was a furious rocking ol the coach, cries, oaths. and reports of guns, and the coach came to a dead stop. "Fight for your lives!” shoutcdl one of the guards, and on the in-‘ stant all the men in the stage rush- ed out pell-mell. “Let us fly!” whispered Maida. The other merely pressed her hand and rose from her seat. Under the cover of the darkness, and crouching low to avoid the bullets which were whistling through the air, the two slipped out of the stage and made for the thicket bordering the road. They had scarcely reached a place of safety when Maida felt the hand in hers relax its hold. “A little farther," she whispered. "I am wounded. Leave me and save yourself,” came the gasping answer. “Where are you wounded?” “In the side. A bullet struck me as I stepped out of the stage. Leave me. I am afraid I am mortally hurt. I am getting so weak. Go,» go! Iâ€"Iâ€"cannot move.” “I hear water running near us. Will you mind if I leave you to find it so that I can bathe your wound?" “How good you are. I am not By the sense of hearing Maida groped through the underbrush, and. finding the stream, wet.her handker- chief and returned to the sull‘erer. The dawn was beginning to break by this time, and Maida could see suffi- ciently well to lay aside the girl's clothifi'g and see the wound. It was an ugly looking sight, and the blood, which had saturated all the under part of the gown, was still flowing. ,It seemed a hopeless tsunami the a little farther where they would be more likely to escape the sight of the ruffmns, capture by whom would be far worse than death. The poor girl made an elTort to rise to her feet, more to please Maida than from U She sank almost fainting from loss of blood. Maida knelt by her side and tried to coax her to try to _\Ya_lk any hope of saving her own life. Maida put her armmbout her, and, with wonderful perseverance and courage, helped her through the thicket until she felt they were far enough from the road. There she made a couch with her own heavy shawl. and covered the fainting girl with the one she had worn over her shoulders. Ui'vu-wv- w. “How good you are,” whispered the su’fiering gix‘l, taking Maida’s hand in hers and softly caressing it. “I knew you were good when I first. looked at. you in the stage.” “Does your wound pain you now?” "It. burns as if there was a coal of fire on it." I am anxious to have the over. Do you?" like you, I do not enjoy the enough to wish to prolong girl realized it, for she said, in her patient way: “It is ageless, I know I am dy- ing. I can hardly speak. and my breath comes hard.’ ' - ‘wvvv VW- And then, as Maids. tenderly wash- ed and bound up the wound as well as she could. with the means at her command, she drew her nearer to her and whispered with her failmg breath: I 'v ts” v v v "v- __-_- The face before her was cold and white now, and as she placed her hand on the heart, she found its beating stilled. She raised her eyes to heaven with an agonized look, and then threw herself over the inan- imate body, sobbing like a soul wrecked. But by and by she calmed herself and dried her eyes. She look- ed for a few sad moments at the fair young girl, so lately full of loving life, and then with a harder look up- on her beautiful face, leaned over her and took.froni her pocket the book spoken of. She took nothing else, but rose with averted eyes, and with a shud- der turned away, and fled like a guilty creature. Which way'she went, or how long she had no defined notion. There was but one thought in her mind. and that was to get away from the dead girl whom, even in death, she was bent on wronging. She kept repeating to herself that it could not matter to her now, since she was no longer liv- ing, and that the vacant place in the far-away English home was as much hers as it had ever been Constance’s. “Will you tell me yo _ ‘ nOW? I would like to know it. on have been so kind to me." “Maida Carringford.” . “The great actress?" with a smxle ”My sister! my sister! 1 could not have hated you, and I had sworn to wrong you; for, oh! I know it, it wagwhat my mother meant." V“-.-I 'vv‘ ’l‘he dying girl smiled feebly in ac- quiescence. and whispered in the ear bent low to her lips: “You will find a. bookâ€"book in my pocket. Itâ€"Wlllâ€"tellâ€"youâ€"uboutâ€" me. Namk-Constance Faulkner." She smiled, shut her eyes, and Mnida, looking at her in that dim light, saw her grow unconscious. But she did not move from the pre- sence of death she saw hovering there. She sat and gazed with a sort of horror. and at last covered her face with her hands and walled: of pleased surxrvrisg. VI yl‘aub3V‘J wu- I'. 50": “Yes. And wh'at is your name? friends?" I. IUIIUO 5 "I have no friends in all the world. Would you like to know my story?” “You are not. strong enough to talk. I can hardly hour you now." Was she not the elder daughter? Had the law any right to deprive her of the place she was determined to take? And she argued with her- self and thought of her mother, dead so far away from her native coun- try, her heart hardened. and she be- came indill‘erent to everything but the success of her plan. She sat down in the desolate for- ests of the Sierras; she read the lit- tle book she had taken from her sis- ter. And as she read the tears flowâ€" ed, for it was the mirror of a gentle, lovely life. made only sweeter by the hardships it had undergone, and at each recital of some new and unex- pected trial, coming at a time when peace seemed at last to have settled on them, Maida sobbed harder and harder, for she knew that which the dead girl had never suspectedâ€"that the wronged woman, lying in her grave in San Francisco, had been the cause of it all; that the mother of the girl now living had wrecked the life of the girl just dead. But the gentle, unrcpining spirit of the dead girl had not moved Maida's moth'eF‘to any softer feeling for the man who through it all had been living in case, luxury, and, as she thought, indifierence. If she pitied the woes of the fugitive Wife and the innocent child, she was all the more confirmed in her hatred of the cause of those woes, for she saw in her mother only the instrument in the hands of fate, and visited on the man the whole of the indignation and bitterness she felt. She read the little record of Con- stance’s life as a sister might and should, and then she read it as an avenging Woman, conning,r its dates and occurrences with all that won- derful capacity for remembrance which her training as an actress en- dowed her, and entering into the life of the dead girl so that she might fittingly play the part when the time came. a light, and though it were to lead her to the very'scoundrels who had robbed the stage, she would go on. Indeed, it came to her. even in the state she then was in, that there was really something in common be- tween herself and those men, for bad they not killed herniater, and so put And she did it then and there, in that strange spot, far from any hu- man eye, because from that moment she buried Maidn Carringionl and re- surrected Constance Faulkner. It was henceforth the child of shame who was dead, and the child of wed- lock who lived. She rose from her study, for it was study, and hard study. too, and dragged herself, weary and fainting with hunger, through the silent for- est. How long she went, thus she never knew, for she rested and walk- ed alternately until nigmcame on again. And then she still walked. She was footsore and famished, but her wonderful spirit and will power kept. her up, even after she had lost all sense of pain in the very excess of sulTering. When darkness came on she would have dropped and rested her weary limbs on the soft leaves, but the call of the puma and the wild-cat could be heard waking the echoes of the vast solitude, and with a shudder she kept on. At last she came upon the stage road, and that put new courage in her heart, and enabled her to drug herself on with more hope. She could but go on and on now, and she did so. By and by she thought she saw a glimmer of light. What it was or whence it came, she did not stop to ask hersell. It _was no now? 'ou have her in the way of avenging the wrongs of her mother and herself. She drew nearer to the light, and saw or understood in some way that it came from a window. She stum- bled more than once, and as she lay on the earth she tried to cry out for help, but her throat was too dry, and her strength was too spent, to enable her to emit more than an in- distinct murmur. and she was forced to rise to her feet again and stagger onward. But the light was. nearer at every step, and at length she'could make out the dark outlines of a cabin. A Vuv voov w“- â€"_ _ few.morc steps and- she would’bc saved. She lifted her hands thank- fully, and rushed forward with ghat strength she had left. It was the last cn‘ort of exhausted nature. She was not yet on the threshold of the door when her head began to swim. She uttered a faint cry for help, and fell headlong to the earth. I:;.I “You have to get an order from the United States legation for the Forbidden City and from the British legation for the Summer Palace. The former is on view on Tuesdays and Fridays from 10 to 2, the_ lat- ter on Thursdays and Sundays from 11 to 4; the altar of Heaven can be visited at the same times. For the Dowager Empress's’winter palace in the Imperial, not the Forbidden city, you have to get permission or an escort from the German legation, as also for the island where the Em- peror was imprisoned. People Flock to See the Sights in Pekin Long Denied. A correspondent of the North China. Daily News, tells of the cur- iosity of the people to visit the For- hidden city and the proper way to go about it. He says: VISITORS TO FORBIDDEN CITY. cv-v But faint as the cry was it had been heard; and a moment later the door of the hut opened and a young man, with a pistol in his hand, stepped out on the threshold. He looked around for an instant with a puzzled look, and then his eyes fell on the prostrate form on the ground. He stooped and lifted her as tender- ly as if she had been a child: and Maida Carringford lay in the arms of Guy lIartleigh, who had come this far in hot pursuit of his cousin, whom he had traced to the ill-fated stage. “People [lock to see the Mongol Luna Temple, because it used to be impossible, otherwise it is a question if they would. The Hall of Classics and Confucian Temple just across the road might be visited at the same time. And those going to the Summer Palace might as well di- verge a little to the right on the way out and see the great bell. "At the Summer Palace the spec- ial sights seem to be the great bronze ox on the far side of the lake together with the camel-back bridge and theseighteenâ€"arch marble bridge connecting the island with the main- land. There is a bronze pavilion as you climb the hill, and as you come back there is the marble boat on the water to the left. The Thousand Buddha Temple on the top certainly calls hr a visit if only to see the reckless devastation within. It must have been beautiful. "The ruined pagodas on the other side where everything,r was broken down in 1860, are very striking, and there are five marble bridges across the canal at the base, but the enpr- mous Cloisonne screen and the beau- tiful painted screen in the English oificers’ dressing room are perhaps yet more interesting, while the spec- imens of the Dowager Empress’s handwriting give a very high idea. of her gift as an artist." Almost Incredible Story of Murder Told in a French Court. A strange and almost incredible story of murder has been told to a French army court-martial in Al- geria. For the last year or so there has been much agitation in Germany over the murder in Koenitz of a stu- dent named Worser. It was attri- buted at the time to the Jews and was seized on by the antiâ€"Semites as additional proof of the existence of ritualistic murders. But, as might be expected, nothing came of the case except the prosecution and conviction of some of the witnesses against the Jews for perjury. The murder itself was not explained. Re- cently a German soldier in the French Foreign Legation, serving in Algeria, was put on trial for making away with his equipment. I-Ie excused himself by saying that he had been about to desert, as he was afraid he was going to be ar- ‘rested for the murder of Worser, ‘whom he had killed. His story. was : that at the time of the crime he was lin Koenitz and in great want. On ‘the day of the murder a man ofl'ered him money to go to the synagogue. s'I‘here he found some masked men who ordered him' under pain of death ito kill a young man who was asleep in the place, evidently under- the in- jiluence of drugs. He did as he was ‘bid. and cut up the body, the blood .irom which was drained into a sil- ver vessel. Then the money was giv- en to him, also a sealed letter which if in need. he was to show to any Jew he might meet. He used the letter in llreslau and Frankfort-am- Main, and then, fearing arrest, en- tered French territory, ultimately enlisting in the French Legation. My dear, .said young Mrs. Jellus. I thought you ought to knowâ€"there's a married man who is violently in love with me. What ? he cried. Who is he? I! I tell you will you give me those ear-rings I wanted 7 Yes. Who is it? You. His story, extraordinary and hor- rible as it is, is very circumstantial and correct as to dates and place. He has been condemned to six months' imprisonment, and the au- thorities are to make a thorough in- vestigation. A STARTLING CONFESSION. ‘1: To be Continued, Upon Which the Duke and Duchess of Cornweii and York are flaking Their Tour or the British Empire and Which Will Bring Them to Quebec. In the first place don't use tin in any stage of the process, if porceL lain, enameled ware or aluminum can possibly be obtained. It tin must be used at all. don't let the juices stand in it a moment longer than is absolutely necessary. Put up the fruit as soon as possible aft- er picking,and use only granulated sugar. Wild Grape Jelly: Choose grapes which are only just reddened, leav- ing in a good sprinkling of those still green, but rejecting all that are ripe, or nearly so. Pick from the stems, looking over carefully for wormy ones. Wash, put over the fire. and pour on water until it is nearly in sight-so you will have to tip up the kettle a little to see it. This makes strong juice which will not have to be boiled down. Boil the grapes up quickly, and as soon as skins are broken strain through cheesecloth, but do not squeeze. Measure the juice, and put on the fire again. Boil up and skim, then while boiling, add measure for mea- sure oi sugar. Boil not longer than 15 minutes, skimming as necessary. This makes a very clear, delicately tinted jelly. Follow the same re- ceipe with Concord grapes, and you will have a very dainty jelly, but the flavor is not quite as fine, and it will not stand as well when turn- ed out. Wild Grape Marmalade: Let the grapes be black-ripe. Put on water same as for the jelly, boxl up quick- ly, and when skins are all broken, press through a 'sieve to remove skins and seeds. Measure juice, put over fire, and when boiling add mea- sure for measure of sugar. Boil 10 or 15 minutes, but be careful not to have too quick a fire. as the thicker juice burns easily. This sets very solid. but not the least bit gummy or stiff. Other grapes may be used, but wild are best. Wild Grape Preserves: Pulp the ripe grapes, keeping skins separate. Boil the pulps thoroughly in a very little water, and put through a sieve to remove seeds. Measure pulp and skins, and put over with half as much sugar. Boil about 20 minutes. put in cans boiling hot, and seal. - Grape Ketchup: _To four quarts of grapes add one quart of vinegar, put over the fire, and boil up thor- oughly. Strain through a sieve, put juice over a slow fire, and add two quarts of sugar and one table- spoon each of ground cloves and cin- namon. Bring to a boil and seal. Any dark grapes will do for this re- cipc. Unfermentetb Grape Juice Np. 1: Put ripe Concord grapes over the fire with one pint of water to a gal- lon of fruit. Boil up, and when the skins are broken, strain through cheesecloth, but do not squeeze. Measure the juice, and when boiling add one-fourth as much sugar. If fruit is perfectly ripe, one-fifth will be sufficient. Seal in bottles or cans while boiling hot. In bottling, fill nearly to the top, hold a fine fork- tine or toothpick inside the neck of the b‘b'ttle, and push the cork down into the juice, drawing the tine out instantly and leaving the cork well down into the neck. Cover the top with melted parafllne or sealinguwax; Unfermented Grape Juice No. 2 (extra quality): Put. ripe Concord grapes in a double boiler, adding no water. A stone jar set in a big iron kettle is just as well as an ex- pensive utensil. Cook until skins are thoroughly broken, strain through .cheeseclotli, but do not squeeze. Measure the juice, put over in a porcelain kettle. and when boilâ€" ing add one-half as much sugar, put‘ up and seal while boiling hot. Grape Cordial: When blackberries are scarce, make your cordial by ad- ding to each quart of unfermented grape juice one tablcgpoon each of ground cloves, cinnamon. and all- spice. Boil up and seal. For sum- 11.101- complaint and dysentery this is excellent. 0n arising in the morning the eyes should be bathed gently in cold water-twenty “passes” are said to be decidedly strengthening. While THE CARE OF THE EYES. PRESERVED G RAPES. THE ROYAL YACHT OPHIR, using them closely they should be rested at intervals of an hour or two. for the strain of constant read- ing or sewing is like that of extend- ing the arms at a certain height im- movable. Imagine the taxing of the eves. which cannot complain save after years of irreparable neglect. When dust settles in the eyes warm water will sooth them of any in- flammation; rose water is extremely refreshing, but it should be bought. in small quantities. as it keeps but a short time. Five cents' worth will give a daily bath for several weeks. Tea leaves and alum water were the eye tonics which our grandfathers used, but in those days of absolute- ly hygienic and antiseptic simplicity water. especially in distilled form, was considered powerful enough. Strawberry Puffs: Roll out a rich pull paste 1; inch thick, and cut into twice as many rounds as you wish to serve, with your largest cake cutter. Take the rolling pin and roll out half of them a little larger than the others. Spread the smallâ€" er ones with butter and lay the larg- er ones over them. Bake in a quick oven. When done remove the top crust. and lay on each under one a spoonful of sliced berries; sprinkle with sugar. Replace the top crust and serve with whipped cream while warm. Another preventative is a bread crust, very hard, and very stale. Drop it into the water just as it strikes a boil and lot it stay ten minutes, then skim out. Most of the oil will come with itwfiirtlier: the 590318)! crust will have kept: it. from vaporizing. Cauliflower not Quite ireSh, always smells tremen- dously. The best. thing for it is a scald in weak, salt Water. before the cold soaking. If the hemls are big, cut them into pieces, so as to make sure oi removing every bit of dis- New English words are constantly being made to fill the needs of mod- ern inventions. To give some idea of the tremendous growth of the language, the words and phrases un- der the letter A have increased in fifty years from 7.000 to nearly 60,- Cherry Pudding: First stone your cherries. then make a dainty biscuit crust, and line a granite or earthen dish. Lay an ample quantity of the fruit upon the paste. and pour over 2-3 cup molasses. Sprinkle a little flour upon the molasses, cover with an inch-thick crust and steam two and one-half or three hours. Serve hot with cream and sugar well mix- ed. This is delicious. Odors are subtle, withal search- ing. In dealing with these in the kitchen an ounce of prevention is worth at least a ton of cure. The heavy smell of stale grease, most clinging and most offensive of all, comes more than anything else from slopping or sputtering over, which a very little care in range management prevents. 'l‘he acrid smell of burnt or scorched things is positively painfulâ€"so much so that a cook’s first lesson ought to be that the fire was given for cook- ing, not burning. Leaving unwashed pots and steWpans to dry and sim- mer on the range is a fruitful source of ill-odors, easily remedied. Dis- solve two pounds of washing soda in a gallon of boiling water and keep a bottle of it handy. As you empty cooking-vessels pour. in soda water an inch deep. shake it well all around the sides and leave until washing time. If the pots and pans keep warm, so much the betterâ€"the soda will do its work more perfectly. Onions, turnips, and all the cabbage tribe may have their scent some- what abated by a little care in the boiling. The odor comes from their essential oils,_ which volatilize. If the vegetables are prepared some hours before they are wanted and left to soak in weak, salt water, rinsed, and put over the fire in fresh cold water, they throw up this esâ€" sential oil largely in the form of scum. Let them come to a boil be fore putting in the salt and skim very clean. After the salt is in. add a dash of cold water-wit will throw up a second scum, which must be removed at once. Cook all such vegetables uncovered, a lid strength- ens the odor tenfold and makes it more offensive. ' colored curd. CONTROLLI NG K I'I‘CIIEN ODORS TWO G 00]) RECIPES THE HEALTHIEST TRADES The Tut-Worker’s The best and healthiest trade in the world is dye-making trom coal tar. There is no manual work that. comes near it. for tar, and the smell of it, is the finest of all tonles and tissue-builders; so much so that the life. of a tar-worker comes out at eightysix years. The mortality is eighty per cent. lower too, than in other factory trades. Distilling saccharin (mm the to: is equally good. and the bony! framework and circulation of c worker in tar is always Iirstclass. Malignant diseases are almost un- known in aniline-dye factories, and even in epidemics the workers suflcr little. And there is nothing like u tar works for keeping oll' influenza. Yet the. work of actually making the tar. which falls to gas and coke works, is virulently unhealthy, be- cause of the sulphur fumes; but when the finished tar is passed on to dye-works it brims with health (ind strength. and the weakliest ulcu improve when working it. Elghty-six years i; '4 marvellous average, by the way. for the avob age 0! the population it forty-nine. n4 9.- less healthy than any other (arming work. but TEN DI NG COW STABLES. Here the average length of life in eighty-five, and scores of stalled-cow keepers live over the age of 100. This is because a cow is the only an- imal whose presence is thoroughly healthy for manâ€"the verv breath of England has. on an average, 66 sales a your. a cow‘is beneficial. Consumption, and kindred ills, are utter stranger. in cow stables; and the best thing a. man can do to lengthen his life is to look after cows, and. if possible, sleep in a room above the stable. There is a very strange difierenm in trades that go on side by side in the way of life-lengthening. The In- bar of wheeling a wheel-burrow in particular. has such a strengthening efl‘ect on the muscles and joints that confirmed barrow-wheelers show the best average in all the building tradesâ€"nearly seventy-seven years, and a great many touch the 10¢). This is largely because. if a man wheels 11 barrow properly, the wide- apart arms open the chest, and help to strengthen the lungs in a Wonder- ful way. Whereas, though wielding a pick-axe seems as if it should be a fine exercise, it really knocks the life- average down to forty-live. The partly steeping position. and the bent inWards position 0! the arms, contracts the chest dangerously, cramping the lungs till they are easy victims to pneumonia. INHABI'I‘ANTS OI“ MARS. "As for me." says M. Flannmurhm, Speaking of the inhabitants nl' Mars. ”I rather envy them. A “'Ul'ld Where it is always beautiful, where there are neither tcmpcats nor ry- clones, where the years are twine as long as ours. where the kilOL‘fl'J .i is of 376 grams, and where. the-re- ‘OI‘L‘. men and women whn hem: weigh SGVL'nty kilos there weigh nn'y LWL'nty-su. and where, in a Wurd, everything is lighter, more delicate and more refined.” And in another plate he goes further, pointing out that if the Martians wished to com. municate with us they would doubt- less have made the eflort many time. in the past and probably long ago abandoned it. deciding it a hopeless; business to attempt communication with a planet so stupid. Europe is now able to boast of the longest. telephone line in the world. It is that. which connects Berlin With Bordeaux. and the length of UN: wire [I not less than 1,200 miles. .I'D “I.“ \.V. valued a ”fro-1;;- $150,0(MMKN) to $200,000,000, have been taken from the famous Kimberley, South Africa. diamond mines since their discovery Finally. barring accidents. tin-r.- would be no trade to hm: Hm steeplejack's for keeping lite gunm. The task of working at emn'muus‘ heights from the ground keeps the nervous system in such perfect urdrl‘ -und that is two-thirds uf thv hul- tieâ€"that steeplejacks who :H'N HM. killed by accident Show the magnifi- cent. average of eighty-nine. I “O N-SMEL'I‘I NG . puts ten years on to the average life of a man, if he has good lungs to start with; but if he is weak-lunged it. is liable to cut him of! altogether. The hard work and perspiration are life-givers to the strong, but {atal to the weak. Coal-miningr is not good; but copper-mining brings the aver- age up to eighty years with a run. for the composition of the ore, when powdered. has an extremely strength- ening eflect on the blood and nerves. This seems odd, because crude cop- per is a poison; but the ore in which it lies is a fine tonic-giving mixture when breathed in small quantities. and the allâ€"round work has a very good meet on the muscles. Few copper-miners die before they are eighty three or four; whereas copper- smelters are lucky if they see Mty. A first-class trade to put a few exâ€" tra years on to your life is whiskey distilling, WhiCh afl'm'ds as good a set-up to the system as spirit-drink- ing pulls it down. The vapors of n. distillery are extremely health-givâ€" ing. and a fatal foe to disease and sickness germs of every kind. Illsâ€" tillery workers, who are not given to intemperance, by the way. shnw the excellent average of eighty-om: years {or life, and seldom sunk-r fl‘ulll illness; while brewery enlplnym's. on the other hand. have the lll'('l(lt‘l”y bad average of forty-seven. Five and one-half tons Consume. Very Hunky: YOU A CENTENABIAN. mumâ€"the very bread: 6! Lit. Avert" of diamonds