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A PLUM ORCHARD. We have had 25 years’ experience in a plum orchard of nbout fifty trees, of as many Varieties. A part of this time personal at tention could not be given to the orchard, Ind this increased the breadth of the experi meatâ€"showing the difference between care n_nd neglect: For the first eight or ten years #31 -_-!L:.~nbAA hut In“ unslcuu. L‘VA vllv u.-- - the ground was kept well =Eultivated, but most of this time, on account of absence, the enrculio ran riot, and not a bushel of fruit was obtained from the whole orchard. These Insects were then taken in hand, and by means of framed muslin, iron plugs, and a. heavy hammer, together with an unremitting “tack every morning for three weeks. over I thousand of the curculios were destroyed, Ind the same year, in August and Septem- ber, the trees bent under the loads of purple and golden plums. These heavy and de1i« elous crops were continued under similar treatment for several years, but the growth of the trees was injured and checked by the continued heavy cropping; and one year after an unusually heavy crop, we had an Intenser cold winter. The trees, exhausted by the heavy load which they had borne, were seriously injured, dead branches show- ed the following summer the effects of the cold, and a part of the trees were killed out- right. Had the fruit been properly thinned when small, or had a. few of the curculios been permitted to do this work, less harm would have been done. 1 ,r A‘.-:_ WI)qu nnvr. n:qu uvuvv After this occurrence, the trees lcst their beautiful symmetry of form, and the remov. 51 of the dead limbs give them more or less tdistorted, one~sided appearance, but under good cultivation, with some manuring, the plums were as beautiful and delicious as ever. A n 1 1, VIVI- Manure, spread copiously over the whole mince of the ground, has been found parti- cularly beneficial to plumrtrees, and trees thus treated are less liable to thelesf-blight, which frequently injures the crop in quality, preventing the tull maturity of the flavor, Ind checking growth. Every year there is more or less black knot, but promp excision the day it is first seen, prevents it from doing harm. It is less trouble or labor to keep the black knot at bay than to cultivate the ground and destroy the weeds;yet we fitan meet with owners who seem to think it a serious hardship to give even a. little prompt attention for checking this disease. -â€"- .u e "A ' _..1 A_nmknnlvg lvwrv mumâ€"u-.. .fi. To sum upâ€"the four princiciml drawbacks in plum culture (on soils where the trees naturally flourish) are: 1. Checking the growth by neglected culture. 2. Allowing the curculio to have the free run of the or- ahsl'd. 3. Neglecting the black knot; and 4. Leaf blight from a want of manuring and good culture. Any one who has a dark back cellar or furnace room may have a couple of small mushroom beds, which will lurnish all of this kind of food likely to be required in a private family. The method of preparation s simple, being substantially the same as for a hot-bed. . Strong horse manure, which has been well saturated with urine, consti- tutes the foundation. It should be fresh and freefrom rubbish and weed seeds, taken from behind horses bedded with clear straw, which is better cut in six or eighttinch lengths for this :purpose. This manure, moistened with warm water, if toodry, must be shaken up and the materials evenly mix- ed. It is then made into a square, evenly laid bed 15 to 20 inches high, tour feet wide, and of any desired length, built against the cellar Wall. The two beds may come together at the corner, but should not both be made at the same time, if a constant succession is desired. The material must be turned and turned again, with intervals for the heat to rise, until it is well tempered, as overheating destoys the spawn. Clean wood-soil is best for covering the bed, say four inches deep on the top, end and front. This should be watered, and kept moderately moist. The spawn, which is sold by seedsman in “bricks,” Is inserted in small bits all over the bed, using a dibble, with which holes are made, at intervals of a foot or so each way, down to and a little into t? e manure. This “ spawn” sends its “ mycelium,” or white, root-like threads , all through the bed ; and from this the “ buttons" are sent up. These should be gently removed before they 0:- pand, care being taken not to disturb the soil more than can be helped, and to smooth it over neatly after each gathering. By keeping fresh material on hand each bed can be renewed, in rotation. as it is exhausted, and a steady supply maintained. Thpre is one call for chickens all over the oountry. but nearly every state has its pe- culiar methodrof cglling pigs. The Pennsylvanian requests the presence of his herd of swine with “ Pigâ€"pig, pig, ig, piggie, piggie.” The North Csrolinian oos, “ Pi -i, pig-i,” dwelling on the “ i” such time. he Hoosier calls, “Whoo-ee, whoo-ee,” and his pigs come on the jump from every direction. A Buckeye farmer reasons with his big, easy-going, well-fed porker, and cosxingly cries, “ Soo, sooâ€"soo, soo, soo.” The Kentucky farmer causes the hills to reverberste with his heavy buss voice, “ Poohe, poohe.” A Dakotian brings his pigs with a. shrill whistle. Probe.ny pigs would come at the sound of any human voice, whatever words were used, for they are creatures of such unbounded appetites that they need no coaxing to come to the feeding-place. “Wonderful,” we hear you say when you are told that this is the yearly poultry product in the United States. But it is true. The product of and consumption of the product of Uncle Sam’s poultry-yards in eggs and poultry reaches this sum an- nually. A blanket in a cord stable will save oats. Wooden troughs are best to hold drinking water for fowls in winter, as it does not. freeze as readlly as in other vessels. A cow well broken to lead is worth ten dollars more as compared to a timid and unmanageable one. She will give more milk, and make more butter, besides al- ways making good nature. The modern fancy» butjzer cpgtajns more The modern fancy butter contains more‘ moisture than the old style. All right, this is the way people want it. It looks better, spreads better and is made Without break- ing the grain and looking like grease. A mushroom plantation has been estab- Lished in a disused railway tunnel at Edin- burgh. The mushroom beds occupy about DOMESTIC MUSHROOM GROWING. CALLING Cmcxzxs. 640,000,000 DOLLARS. FARM. six hundred yards of the tunnel whose total length is about three-quarters of a mile. It is said that 1,000 sheep, kept on a piece of ground one year will make the soil capa- ble of yielding grain enoughâ€"over and above the capacity of the soil without the sheep manureâ€"to support 1,035 sheep the entire year. l Clover hay is just the thing for the breed- ing mare. It feeds the blood to make a per- fect foal. The clover stubs are good after the leaves, blossoms and stems are eaten off â€"we mean hay not dead ripe. With such hay there must be bran and oats or the un- born fosl will he starved. Hay is the most valuable of all Americanl crops; the amount cut in 1880 exceeded thirty-six millions of tons grown on more than thirty millions of acres. It has kept. pace with its rivals, for in 1850, not quite‘ fourteen million tons were groWn. .ven twenty years ago but nineteen millions were, reported, so that it has nearly doubled in two decades. N At the recent English dairy show a. short, horn cow proved the champion milker and‘ huttermaker. After ‘294 days from calving,l her milk amounted to forty-five and one-‘ half pounds daily, and her butter to 4.4 per cent., equal to two and one-half pounds per day. The total solids in this milk amounted to 4.2 per cent, which shows that the cow was not only an excellent huttermaker, but exceptionally good for cheese. g It is as idle to expect that a good cow can‘ show great results without plenty of good food, as it is to expect that a good feed- grinding machine can show a big pile of meal below, when no grain is put into the hopper. A cow must have the foodâ€"what she does with it determines her characterâ€"' Whether she manufactures meat with it to clothe her own body, and make growth in size of frame and amount of fat, or turns it into milk loaded with butter and cheese. ‘ The English papers are discussing “ the mess the British farmer is in.” A corre- spondent of the Agricultural Gazétte shows how the plowland farmer grows ‘wheat. If he raises 44 bushels per acre and 35 hundred weight of straw his crop is worth $58.75" with wheat at 30 shillings per quarter and straw at two shillings per cwt. His (x- penses are : Rent, etc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sumo Labor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3000 Manure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 00 Total . . . . . . . . . . . Value of crop . . . . . . Mr. Kinglake was intruated by Lord Rag- lan’s family with his correspondence with a view to writing that which, under the title of a. history, was intended to be really a justification of Lord Raglan. To know Lord Raglan, to be brought into contact; with him even posthumously and even through his papers, was to love him. And he deeerved love, for he was fearless, honest, unselfish. thoughtful of others, thorough- bred, and with a. marvelous fascination of manner. No wonder, therefore, that Mr. Kinglake has in great measure wandered from the path of the historian into that of the eulogist. Eulogy, however, is not a. dis- proof of accusations, and it is to be regret- ted that Mr. Kinglake should have too often met charges with a general denial and a sort ‘of haughty appeal to character. Again, it is a. little wearisome to find Lor 4 Raglan, in the part of the spirit of good, heingvcontin- ually contrasted with Louis Napoleon in the character of'evil. All that was wise and judicious in the conduct of the campaign did not invariably proceed from Lord Raglan, neither was every mistake to be traced more or less directly the Emperor of the French. Lord Raglan , like his former glorious chief, the great Duke of W'ellington, was the vic- tim of much scurrrilous abuse in the press, and of much shameful slander in the House of Commons, and the public were at one time in a very ill-humor with him. The Chelsea Board of general Officers, however, acquitted him, and public apinion has since done him justice. It has in fact put him in his proper place. He has a noble character, he was a brave, experienced soldier, he was well skilled in his drofession ; above all he possessed great tact, temper, and diplomatic ability. He has been reproached for being too much of a. desk man, but he was ever ready to exchange the desk for the saddle Whenever action was called for. Besides, as his functions were as much those of a diplo- matist as of a'soldierfhenecessarilylhad to deal with a. vast mass of correspondence which was of too delicate and difficult a kind to be handed over to any subordinate. Activity indeed I his activity contrasted very favor- ably with that of Pelissier, who ever pre- , mL_a.I_- AL: -54. nun: . .-.- 0.“. ferred a carriage to horse. That he did-not advertise by a. showy costume and a brilliant escort his almost daily visits to the troops and the hospitals is perhaps the cause that he was accused of neglecting this essential duty of a commander in the field. Lord Raglan erred in this absence of show. but he had been brought up in a. school of almost Spartan simplicity, and ostentation has al- ways been considered vulgar by well-bred English gentlemen. Loss per acre . . . A Typicalâ€"fiugsian “Afi‘air of Honor." A somewhat curious duel took place a. few ‘ days ago at Kichenifl'. the capital of the im- { pertant Russian province of Basserabia. A gentleman of the name of Paul Usakofl' and Prince Temariafi' querrelled together about some triViel matter at the “Nobles Club,” and finally determined to settle their differ- ences by a duel. On the following morning they met with their seconds and a. surgeon on the outskirts of the city and exchanged three shots 3 pieCe without doing any injury‘ to one another. On the following day they again met at the club, and after a short con- versation began to quarrel afresh with in- creased vigor. Growing more and more ex- cited the dispute at length degenerated into a regular kicking and fisticufi struggle. The !» 165:1qu an”..- .h. __-__V Prince, who all Elgng had bégh theagggreesor, was in the act of receiving a sound and well- deserved thraghingf when suddenly the thin 1 111- tfi’e polige court, where the casewill be tried when M. Usukoff is able to leave his bed. Meanwhiie the Prince swaggers about the town and the Nobles Club is exceedingly proud of his “bonne-bonche.“ Lord Raglan itching the latté'r’s lower lip be- :eeth, his it completely off. It is saw that that terminated the fight. .... .373 00 . 58.75 ....$l425 : FLORENCE MARRYAT’S ESCAPE The Novelist Relates Ilow She Bled and Game to Life Again. Florence Marryet tells in the English pa.- pera the extraordinary story of her nearly ‘ fetal adventure while on a lacturing tour in Canada. She was billed to appear in Lon- don, Ont., and an hour before the time the audience were invited she presented herself at; the opera. house. To quote her own words : I was conducted to my dressing- room by a. very polite young gentleman, a. secretary to the committee who had engaged my services, and who was most nnxious that evervthing should be comfortable for me. As I entered the room, which had a large window and a. door, and two gas-burners ; slight, I said: “ There is a. strong smell of [ gas here.” . -. ,,,,r,:l_ “T n... a..- ._-. -. "Yes," replied my companion. “I am afraid there is a. little escape somewhere, but: it must be very slight. for I can’t discover it. Do you think it will inconvenience you T” “ Oh dear no,” I said; “ It can’t be any- thing serious. It will go off after a. while." The gentleman then remarked that it was aquarter-paat Peven,a.nd he should come and fetch me at eight o’clock to go on the stage, and as soon as he had left me I locked the door. There was another door in the room, and before proceeding to undress I tried the handle to see if it was fastened. It yielded to my touch, and opening it, I‘saw it con- cealed a large, dark cupboard. piled with dusty chairs. an the back of which I per- ceived a. thick, black funnel, which seemed to pass through the walls on either side. At the same time a. blast of coal gas rushed into my face, lowing its taste and smell both in my mouth and nostrils. 1 closed and bolted the door hastily, thinking as I did so, “ This is where the escape comes from. Still I never anticipated there would be any danger from it, though I have often blamed mv own folly since for not anticipat- ing it. However. having fastened the door, I returned to the business of dressing, un- packed my basket. did my hair, etc., and put on the skirt of my dress. All this time -â€"perlmps a quarter of an hour -I had no idea that I was, in effect, slowly dying. I remember once saying to myself in a peculiar dreamy voioe, “ I hope I am not going to be ill,” but that is all I can remember, which proves how completely Iainless death may??? during many ‘ ; act of dying was a painful one. . heard people . soul can not be loosed from the body with- | l l a t 1 um, m. What happened after I had put on the skirt of my dress I only know from the nar- ration of others. The secretary told me afterward that when he came. according to his promise, to summon me at 8 o'clock, he found the door locked, and, all his knocking and calling having no effect he fancied I must have dropped asleep from fatigue. On consulting the committee, they broke open the door, when, to their horror, they found me lying apparently dead upon the floor. And to all intents and purposes I was dead, for bad they left me alone I should never have recovered consciousness again. iâ€"lI-kâ€"m-d .gma___4 Some one rushed upon the stage, how- ‘ ever to announce the assembled audience ‘ that Iwas too ill to appear and to ask if i there was a doctor in the house. A gentle- man from amongst them kindly proflered his services and came to my dressing-room, where he immediately pronounced his opin- ion that I was past praying- forâ€"in other words, life extinct. The committee, how- ever, not being satisfied, summoned three more medical men, who threw open all the windows and doors, blistered me over the heart and the temples, and finally carried me, still unconscious, in their arms back to the hotel, where, at 11 o’clock the same night, I woke up to this life again, having ‘ been insensible for three hours and a-half. l It transpired on subsequent inquiry that in order to draw a large audience for the occasion of my appearance the committee who were responsible for expenses, had wished to warm the body of the house by gas, and to that end had affixed a large pipe for its conveyance (the very same funnel I saw in the dark cupboard) to the main meter but without taking the precaution to have the part where it joined the meter properly protected by cement. Consequently as soon as I entered the opera house and the gas was all turned on the escape from the im- perfect fixture came creeping into my room and nearly crept away with my valuable existence, and so insidiously that I was never once aware of it. 1 I never recall the incident of my asphy- xiation without wondering ' whence has arisen the great actual physical fear of death ‘ which makes the anticipation of it a tor- ment to so many. I remember a clever and popular physician once telling me that years of experience he had . never met with a single case in which the But I have shudderingly aver that the ‘ out a fearful wrench. As I know is, that .‘ my soul, or spirit, or life (or Whatever men choose to call me), escaped so quietly and peacefully and easily from my body on the ‘ occasion I have related here that it was less terrible than going to sleep, and that I could ' not wish my best friend a pleasanter death L than by asphyxiation. lion-1d Death in a University Boat Race. One of the most memorable sights yet wit. nessed was that at the Cambridge Lent eight- oared bumping races, when the scene, one of great gayety, was changed to one of con- siderable gloom. It was the third day of the races, and the second division, according to custom. was started first. Some exeiting racing followed between crews representing Queens’ Clare, Trinity Hall, and Emmenuel. Clare had suceeeded in bumping Queens’ early in the race, while Trinity Hall, who ‘ followed Clare, Were pressed by Emmanuel College. Clare had eased up at the bank, having bumped the first-named crew and Trinity Hall, trying their utmost to prevent their downfall, ran the nose of their boat into the Clare ship, but, in so doing, _un- fortunately, the bow of the craft ran into the side of No. 4, Mr. Edward Stuart Cam- bell, and is supposed to have penetrated to his heart. ‘ 1 1 z , 1214 __n_ Only a fowm extinct, and it with the other ate gentleman crowds of spec‘ the races, bu been conveye was witnesse composed of um ucou u. Only a few minutes elapsed before life was extinct, and it was decided not to go on with the other races. While the unfortun- 3 ate gentleman was breathing his last the crowds of spectators, unaware of what had happened, as usual, were very jubilant over the races, but no sooner had the fetal new: been conveyed round than an imposing sight was witnessed. The large crowd, principally composed of representetives clad in colors of the different colleges, were seen wending their way home with downcest heads, while all the boat house flags were immediately dropped half-mast high. other rs. .eman W f spectat i, as usu ;, but no veyed row leased. ’1 :1 of re!) The Retreat Made for nlmselfby a. Scalpleu and Disgraced Warrior. I was riding leisurely along over the prai- rie one day, about three miles southwest of For: Berthold. when I saw, standing ahead of me about ‘200 yrds, four Indi me I thought nothing of it, and turned my head ‘ to look at a deer that was bounding in fright ovar a distant hill. When I looked in me direction in which I had seen the Indians there was a blank. \Vhere could they have gone ’3 There was no buctc behind which they could possibly have hidden. and not a gully was to be seen in which they could have crept. I looked in every direction, and suddenly as they had disappeared they appeared again, though for the life of me I could not have told where they emerged from. They arcse as if they had sprung our, of the ground, as did the soldiers that grew from the dragon’s teeth which Jason sowed. - ‘ m. I ,,",3 A Madan Indian, who, unfortunately for his peace of mind and social standing, lost his scalp in battle several decades ago, con- structed this home her-1. He was disgraced by the loss of his scalp, and never more could live with his tribe. or abide with his squaw or little ones. Determined to make as much as possible of What life he had re- maining to him he hewed a place out of the earth where he was free from molestation. Here he lived alone and in comparative com- fort, secure against blizzards, and equally protected against the heat of summer. , 2, _L _1_:__ ._.._,. r This unique specimen of a fast-dying race was something of an artist. Around on the rock of his lonely abode he had carved a number of the most primitive-appearing de- . signs. I could not learn from my guide whether or not it was probable that the ar- tist was accustomed to drinking the peculiar brand of whisky that years ago the white man traded to the redskins for pelts, but it was a strange fact that the artistic skill dis- played appeared to run to snakes. Repre« sensations of snakes in all attitudes adorned the walls. In some cases they were repre- sented as swallowing a man, and now a huge crawling monster would have an expiring buffalo within his coils. There were a dozen well-preserved impressions of snakes, all of which represented monsters, and not the ‘small, harmless reptiles that are found in i this region. . . a .I . LL, ,,_1_1-.... n...» . yo. __ My guide informed me that ‘he scalpless man depended for his artistic ideas upon a. legend of a huge serpant that existed in this region, and which legend has fed upon a peculiar underground passage, tortuous and sinuous in the extreme, which is pointed to by the natives as being the former home of a. bad spirit in serpent form. Married to Francesco dein Agolenti, the one of her two lovers who loved her least, Ginevra was buried alive during a trance or collapse which looked like death. “’ak- ing up to consciousness in the moonlight she freed herself .from 7 her. grave clothes and crawled to the house of her husband for shelter. He, sorrowful for her death as he was, refused to believe that this pale reven- ante crying at his door was his living wife and superstitiously denied her admittance. So did her mother ; so did her uncle. Then, nearly dying in good earnest, she betook her to the house of her other and truer lov- er, Antonio di Rondiuelli, and sank fainting on the threshold after she‘vhad cried aloud for help. And Rondinelli, enlightened by love, recognized her voice, took her in, warmed, fed, comforted her, and eventually married her as by right. The Bishop, con- sented to the divorce as having been made by death, and to the re-marriage as having been consecrated by love, and faith gained ; What fear had lost. The men of J open are always excessively polite to one another. They bend their backs and bow their heads, and put their two hands back to back between their knees and have a great time. But the most amus- ing thing is to see two old ladies in Japan meeting one another on the street. The street is empty, we’ll say, and-they catch sight of one another three or four blocks apart. They immediately begin to make obeisance at one another and they keep bending and bowing at short intervals un- til they come together, when they make that peculier hiss by drewing in the breath and keep on saying “Oha-yo” for about two minutes. The young things, the“ Moos- mails,” are Very charming and graceful in their greeting of one another, but the old ladies are ornate and elaborate in their ad- dress. An opera of Great Antiquity. Nearly three thousand years ago, a. very wise man and a great sportsman, exchanged the company of philosophers, and grave senators, for that of Wits and gallants. He established a. playhouse in order to enter- tain himself and others with jests, banter and drollery. Solomon had everything that was charming and diverting; all sorts of melody and music, vocal and instrumental, men singers, and women singers, the best voices he could pick up, all the wind and bend instruments that were then in use. ‘But be pronounced them all Vanity and vexaticn of spirit. He obviously came to grief in attempting to run a national opera company on e. theocratic principle. Appar- ently, he could manage 300 wives and 700 concubines, with the Queen of Sheba. thrown into the heap. But the great Israelitish opera experiment fairly paralyzed him. IN A MADAN’S CAVE. The story of Ginevra. Politeness in Japan. A Man who for Twenly-three Tears Endur- ell Almost Every Agony. A wealth of roses, pink and white and yel- low, in place of the usual sombre crape sym- bJI of death, hunggn t‘h_e bell‘knob of 79') ,, JA_ 0J1 Ul ucuvu, I1qu ‘1“ "n. --., ,__, , W _ LlfAyette avenue, Brooklyn, the (it er day, where lay the worn and wasfnl bod of Dr. Charles F. heed, to whom death must in- deed have been a. relief T3 or twenty-three years and six months . ipless invalid. Dr. Reed was, in additio iso great a. sufl'erer that: is was a marvel hat he lived at: all. The catalogue 0t human ills was complete in one number with him, but he displayed a. degree of fortitude, Chriscian resignation, and even cheeriness. that: made upon all who visited him. I have this experience without Valuable feeling that this we] are, after all, of little moment. From 0. medical standpoint: Dr. Reed's case interested nhe profession of the country and of the world. He had achieved an ex- cellent standing as a. physician and in the community, when in 1864 he was attacked with :iysentery, his system beimy all run down in comequence of overwork and er cessive study. A few days treatment con- quered the original disease, but in the mean Lune sciatica, that was in his system by heredity, developed iiseif. Eight: years of helplessness and agonizing suffering follow- ed, and in 1872 he had an attack of cerebra spinal meningitis. The patienb’s pitiable condition became even worse. Muscular distortion and wearing spasms were sufl‘ered. At times sleep was impossible, unless attend- ants held by force the writhing body and contorted limbs of the sufferer. The appe: tite became impaired for the first timefaâ€"nd the digestive functions seemed to be destroy: ed. Inflmlmation of the joints was the nexa complication, and for a. year and a half the slight jar of a. careless tread on the floor near hxm was productive of such excruciat- ing agony that he would faint away and lie as if dead for hours. In 1873 a rash which had broken out on the pntlent's body was communicated to his eyes, total blindness was added to his other afflictions. This result, was first apparent after a. series of suffered by Dr. Reed during a thunder storm in April of that year. He described the shocks similsr to those received from a Layden jar. His heulties remained unim- paired, his mind being remarkably clear angl his spirits good. _ ‘ In 1880 the practice of taking him into the country was begun. and he has spent every summer since in Vermont, near Rut- land. The effect was an improvement of the digestive and nervous systems, but none of his rheumatic troubles. He remained perfectly helpless and blind. During all this time his wife, a slight and physically frail woman, took almost rhe entire care of him. In this she was assisted by a device that he had planned and described so that it could be built, by which she could lift him out of bed unaided. The Wife’s devo- tion was scarcely less remarkable than the husband’s fortitude. He wasIunsble to make any motion beyond an almost imperceptible one of the shoulders, which enabled him to pull a bell cord fixed within his reach, and a slight nodding motion of the head. His jaws were so firmly set that only liquids could be given him for nourishment, and these with difficulty. About a. year ago the decay of his teeth and the exposure of the nerves of four of them of the unfortunate. It was Weeks before a dentist was found who- by pulling the front teeth out was able to get at the ones afl‘ect~ ed and kill the diseased and throbbing nerves. Dr. Reed was supported for the last five years from afund of which D. M. Stone, the editor of the Journal of Commerce, was treasurer. The fund was started at a meet- ing in the directors’ room of the Academy of Mmic. The original contributozs, with the exception of one gentleman who kept his payments of $5 a. month up to the last, gradually fell off. Mr. Stone for the lash two years, by contributions and collections, has raised nearly all of the money that has gone into the fund. The payments have averaged about $1,200 a year. There is money enough in the treasury to pay the funeral expenses, but Mr. Stone, in to-day’s Journal of Commerce, makes all-appeal for ‘ contributions to a purse for the widow. By the Doctor‘s request, his remains were cre- mated at Fresh Pond. Dr. Reed’s death was peaceful and pain- less, though preceded by twenty-four hours of agony. The lingering vitality in his poor tortured body amazed those who witv {less ed it. One stands absolutely open-mouthed and with starting eyeballs before the cases in the museum which contains the Pompeian lady’s rouge pot and the Pompeian doctor’s surgical instruments and the paas~out checks for the Pompeian theatre; and the hair of one’s head stands erect as one comes to a wall in Pompeii and reads what a. rude little Pompeian boy had chalked upon it just seventy-nine years after the birth of our Seviour. It gives one a little flutter of excitement to look at a. man, perfect in form and feature, lying just as he died on that November day exactly 1809 years ago next Novemberâ€"to see his hands clenched and his teeth set, and the very look of horror on his face that came there as he fell, fleeing from the doomed cityâ€"fell to rise no more. And in another case lies a beautiful girl of Pompeii, who died with her arm across her eyes, shutting out the sight of the swift death that was overtaking her. And near lies a. poor little dog Who had died that day. He still wears ‘ the collar and chain that bound him to the kennel and prevented his escape. The poor little Pompeian bow-wow, who lived 1800 years ago, lies upon his side, his limbs drawn together in agony, his lips parted just as they were when they gave the last dying whimper of terror and despair. .u5 m... v- v- M--- m.“ “um.-. yPoor little dog ! He will be handed down perhaps for fhousanda of years yet to come for the Wondering eyes of a new race of hu- man beings to gaze upon. That little dog of A. D. 79 mayâ€"bu flmustn’t lose myself in building up a. Rider Haggard romance about that dog. He‘lms achlgved immortal- ifitfiyli,;nrcrii,flliikré: good many four-footed im- mortals, he paid a good price for the adver- tiaement. A LIVING BEAT ll. A WONDERFUL IMPRESSION SEVERE ELECTRIC SHOCKS ADDED TO THE SUFFERINGS Dug Up At Pompeii. him. No one could without acquiring a this world’s troubles