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f f : r^??888??888888?88?888: ' 'liTHE 1 HC OOOOOOOQOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OqQOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO , QOOOOQQO COO r :Io?THE|l f OgOOOOOg c oco Copyright 1601. l> CHAPTER xn. 13 Continued. As neither knew the wildernes paths, progress was slow; but the; pressed steadily forward till the dis tance seemed to lengthen intermin ably. Then Jacqueline spoke. "Surely, we are both lost now,' she said. "I think we are walkinj in a circle. Let us call again to Vic.' St. George raised a shout, whicl was answered by Vic in person. A ?. swift trot the girl came througl the thickets and screeched at sight o St. George. "Goodness me! You here, sir? I'v< been hunting high and low for Miss Hatton?thought she'd got skairt anc turned back. Come along?it's ih< house. I can see it from the edge o the wood." The trio emerged from the islanc wilderness and stood on the level o; ^tttUClCU I5UCUUO IUVA ftUVTV 1 Uilif Trevor's hermitage. There the calam ity of the night was fully revealed t( all. The stone house, gutted and black ened, was still spurting jets of flam< from fallen roof and rafter; but th< stone walls remained firm?a grin: ruin, indeed, like the nest of a se? ' eagle that hunters had harried. Th< little party drew near to it in silence looking vainly round for the dispos sessed inmates. Nat a vestige of lif< was anywhere visible. The snapping of the fire, the falling Of the debris the swish of waves on the neighbor ing ledges, were the only sounds thai greeted their ears. Vic's keen ey< turned to the pier. The sloop was gone! She pointed seaward. St. Georg< and Jacqueline looked, and saw a sai flitting southward, like a great bird Before a rising wind, it dipped intc the gray distance, and seemed tc melt away with the line of far feadei sea. "There they go!" shouted Vic "ftoodby to your hopes of a fortune Miss Hatton, dear! They're all left the island?burned the bouse anc taken themselves off by the light ol it!" Jacqueline's eyes followed the vanishing sail, and , filled with bittei tears. " 'Diseases deperate grown. By desperate appliance are relieved; Or not at all,' " she quoted. "Philip Trevor is the very man' to adopt this heroic measure!" Vic turned to St. George. "Fear of you and of Miss Hatton is at the bottom of the whole business!' she said. "I knew last night he was ready for anything. Say, I'll wagei my head Joe Raby is sailing thai ^ sloop! Let's go to his hut!" A In gloomy silence St. George stalked after the two girls. He was burning with rage. His enemy ha<2 balked and defeated him. As the party neared the skipper's dwelling they saw that the door stooc open. Raby's sea chest and various other things had vanished from the interior; but in their place sat z woman, groaning and rocking hersell in pain. It was the Portuguese cook "Goodness gracious, Juana!" criec Vic, as she bounced into the hut, 'whj didn't you make off with the others' Who set the house on fire? And whj did they all go, and leave you be hind?" The woman's swarthy face llghtec a: sight of the former house maid She was badly burned about the arm: and hands, and was nursing her hurts with moans and lamentations. Sh< replied to Vic in a patois that St George and Jacqueline did not under stand; but they saw Vic's e>;pressiv< face grow black with dismay. "Oh, my soul!" she cried, in hor ror. as she turned to her companions "Juana says that Raby has gone alon< in the sloop. Mr. Trevor and his wif< are?are?in the stone house!" Jacqueline dared not even glanci toward St. George. Her .limbs begai to shake under her. Constant asso L ciation with Juana had made Vic fa miliar with her broken speech. Sh< plied the groaning woman with ques f tions, and interpreted her replies t( | the others. The cook was gesticulat ing wildly with her burned hands. "She says," quoth Vic, "that verj | late last night Mr. Trevor was talking [ with some one outside the house? i oh, Lord, 'twas me! When he cam< in he went to his wife's room, anc the pair had high words. Juana wolc< from sleep, and heard them quarrel ing. Of late Mrs. Trevor has beer kept under lock and key. Cook hearc something thrown down violently ii the poor lady's chamber?she think! it was a lamp. In a few minutes'th? house was ablaze. She says Mr. Tre vor brought his wife out of her roon in his arms, and then ran to his library to secure papers or moneyhas a safe built there in the wall. H< v i was never seen again. Cook founc Mrs. Trevor, wrapped in a whit< dressi>j-gown. standing at a window . and calmly looking out en the sea i Tuana implored her to leave ta< | house?to make haste. She ever f seized and tried to drag her by force F but Mrs. Trevor resisted stoutly, ant commanded cook to let her alone. V j do not want to live,' she said; 'I wil ! not live!' Juana stayed till she was well scorched herself, as you can see; f then she fled fo:- her life, and Mrs Trevor was smothered in the smoke.' i More groans and gesticulation: 11i/hj nit- w^iiitiu ;.tuu vie comiiiuec her woeful tale: "Juana says she reused Peter, anc he got safely out of the house. Imi he couldn't be satisfied with that Like Lot's wife, he Lad to turn back 'I know where Trevor keeps his u ' money,' he said to cook. 'Plenty o: ? it?enough to make you and me ricl for life." He went into^he house JjjS again ?by a rear door, an^^^hasn'i w 8888888888888888888888?8?Jf >use||on1| yOOOOOQOOOOOOQOOOOQOOOOQO oooooooooooooooocoooooooo JO! A M SsSSisSs noi^nn LI l??o8^?88So8^^?^l^{ U F. M. LUl'TuX. bub woke him, of course; but he didn't wait to help any one. He just got the sloop under weigh, flung his 3 traps aboard, and sailed off in the ^ early morning." Vic and Jacqueline fell to bandaging the Portuguese woman's burns. , When this was done they found that St. George had left the hut. They ? looked out and saw him standing on the pier, with his face turned sea! wa,rd. Jasqueline could guess the bitter thoughts that now possessed him. J Presently the sun arose gloriously from the sea and all the lonely island blushed with joy. The night of horror I was over. Wan spirals of smoke still 5 curled about the ruins, but the fire was fast dying out. Having made ' Juana comfortable, Vic and Miss Hatr*r\4 oKai if nrnnorino' hrOQlffaftt in iuu oci auuut Kfi vmuimwv ?M Joe Raby's hut. Tea was made and * the larder rifled of such remnants as remained in it. Then Vic said: } "Won't you go and speak to Mr. St. George, miss? He must be awful} ly shaken with all that's happened, and he not half well yet!" Jacqueline went softly down to the i pieri?to the silent, stony figure i standing there alone in the joyful 1 morning. She called his name, and 1 her strong, sweet voice went through J him like an electric shock. Here was * one who summoned him out of his gloom into a new life, where hope and i happiness were again possible. He ? turned, with a sudden renewal of ? strength, to see her descending the rocks, with the blithe sun on her face t and the rich, disordered hair blowing J out in the wind. J "Both you and I have suffered much from Philip Trevor," he said, 1 "but he has managed to escape us * after all." "Still, we have been terribly ' avenged!" shuddered Jacqueline. * "Pray come back to the hut. I have 1 made you a cup of tea. Do you mean to bring to naught all my nursing at * the cave? You need stnength to-day. ' The old question is still staring us " in the face?how are we to leave the ' island?" ^ "What! Has that infernal skipper taken boats as well as sloop?" "Vic has found the Victory, with a big hole stove in her bottom, but Raby's skiff has disappeared." Jacqueline and St. George returned , to the hut. She poured him a cup of tea, and he drank it absently, while > they discussed the situation. "Two things we must do," said Vic; "hoist a signal of distress, to attract passing fishermen, and plug the j hole in the Victory. I hope Joe Raby ' leit eume luujs ueie. vau /uu iucuu 5 a boat, sir?" to St. George. "I can try," he answered, with a ; grim smile, "though I never learned the trade." ? "You see, help must he got some5 how to make a search for the?the? I bodies"? "Halloo, the island!" 3 Strong and loud the hall came from [ seaward. The party rushed out of ? the hut. A cat boat was dancing over > the Tvatcr straight toward the pier. t It held two men. E "Halloo, the boat!" shouted Vic, at the top of her lungs. One of the 1 men waved his sou'wester. "Jim!" r screamed Vic, and ran down to the > pier, leaving the others to follow r more leisurely. Jim Bumpus brought . the beat to the stair, made it fast and saluted his sweetheart first and I St. George afterward. "So here you are, sir?" he said. 5 "You're not drowned, then? I began 3 to think you and the Victory had ? gone down together. You've made a longer stay at Deadman's than's per. mitted to most people. Gosh! what's ? happened to the house?" Fire? You don't say! I've brought over a gen. tleman that's looking for Mr. Trevor. He reached Watchhaven last night, 5 and nothing would do but he must start earlv. Seems to me a curus Z w tide of travel has set this way lately, j I'll have to raise the price of boats." ! The gentleman mentioned stepped . ashore. It was now Jacqueline's . turn to start. He extended his hand, j "Mr. Craven," she said, half-angri. ly, "this is a great surprise! What j brings you to Deadman's Island?" "Several things," replied Teddy, in a meek, apologetic voice, "but the j principal one is?yourself. I came , to find you, Miss Hatton." j CHAPTER Xni. 1 Frowningly Jacqueline looked at ; her erstwhile suitor. Teddy wore his. - usual shy, unobstrusive air; but uni der her searching gaze he winced vis1 ifciy. l "Did Doris send you?" demanded 5 Jacqueline. ; Teddy grew as red as a lobster. "No," he stammered; "that is, your ! sister is greatly worried, but she did 5 not send me?I came of my own ac. cord, i wanted to speak with Philip ? Trevor myself." 1 "Then you are too late. Mr. Craj ven. Look at the house yonder?it was burned last night, and Philip Trevor in it." 5 Craven staggered back a step. i "Heaven above!" lie cried in Horror. "Hew did it happen?" I It Xvas Vic who poured forth the I story to the astonished Jim and his ] passenger?Vic, overjoyed, now that 3 help had come, and woes were passed. ; When the gruesome tale was told, Teddy drew up his inferior person, as though throwing off some weight 5 long endured. With a dignity new 1 and strange he faced Jacqueline and St. George. A swift and subtle 1 change had come over him?both I saw that, in a moment, Teddy Craven was an altered man. "This matter concerns me more s closely than either ol' you can well f imagine," he said, mournfully. "Miss j Hatton, you were angry just now be5 cause 1 had presumed to come in I search of you. Forgive me. I could / heart longer. I determined to appeal to Philip Trevor myself. There was a chance, slim, indeed, but a bare chance, that he might listen, for?he was my father." "Mr. Craven?Teddy!" cried Jacqueline. "Yes. He married my mother, Margaret Craven, of Yorkshire, England, in his early youth. He deserted her and she returned to her own country, her own people. At my birth she died. My mother's kindred cared for me, educated me, and called twa olnrova hw tlio riomn nf Pravon U1C Ulll W.J O U J LUV \J i. ViMl VUI When I reached maturity I came to America, and thare learned that my ' father had covered himself with infamy, and was practically a fugitive. Accident flung me with the Wingates, and with the daughters of John Hatton, who had suffered so much at Philip Trevor's hands. I cannot hope, Miss Hatton, that you will pardon me for being his son, but permit me to say this: Should I find the fortune of which you and your sister were so vilely robbed, it will be my blessed privilege to restore it intact to you." "Oh, Mr. Craven," said Jacqueline, "this is, indeed, a strange thing to hear! , And yet I know, I feel, that you are speaking the truth! The son of Trevor! But you are not like him?no, neither in body nor soul, you dear, good boy!" It was an involuntary cry, wrung from her by the kind, honest eyes and frank, open face that looked into her own. She forgot then that he had ever been her'lover?her whole heart went out to him, as to one who had suffered wrongs greater than her own. "I blame you for being your father's" son?" she said, indignantiy. "No pno?never!" He drew 60me papers from his pocket and pressed them into her hand. "Thank you!" he said, gratefully. "Here are my mother's marriage lines, and the certificate of my birth and baptism. I brought them with me, thinking they might be needed, in the interview which I meant to Ii. ve with Philip Trevor. I beg you to read them, and I?I?will go away by myself a little while, and try to realize all that has happened." Tlnfrtra f V> r* /lov rtr a a /Innn + Vt a /1{q_ mantled house had yielded Its secrets. The bodies of Philip Trevor and his wife were recovered from the ruins, and likewise the few charred bones that remained of the man Peter. All were buried together on the island. The safe, built in the wall of the library was found uninjured. Aided by St. George and Jim Bumpus, Teddy Craven opened it, and took charge of its contents?bonds, securities, money and bank accounts. The young man was Philip Trevor's sole heir, and Deadman's Island, and all other possessions of the deceased, belonged now to him. Jacqueline returned to Doris and the Wingates, and St. George to the white-haired mother and the little hunch-back son, in the aristocratic Back Bay house. To John Hatton's daughters, Teddy Craven restored every dollar of John Hatton's fortune. Jacqueline's endeavors had brought her nothing?it was solely by means of the insignificant Teddy that the lost wealth came back to its rightful owners. Vic and Jim Bumpus received, on their wedding day, a fine new fishing schooner, a snug house- at Watchhaven, and* a sum of money that secured them from future want. Then Deadman's island was lett to tne storms or me Atlantic and the tragic memory of its late possessors; for Teddy Graven, after adjusting the affairs of his deceased father, received a sudden call to England. Hio maternal relatives desired his presence there. So Teddy shook the dust of America from his feet and sailed sadly away. ?**?* It was an opera night, with Verdi's passionate music pulsing in the air. In a corner of her gilded box sat Jacqueline Hatton, gazing dreamily down upon the stage. A cream-white cloak, bordered with ostrich tips and lined with soft rose silk, like the first blush of dawn, slipped back from her dazzling shoulders. La France roses drooped in the lace of her corsage, here and there a diamond flashed i from *he rich coils of her hair. Mis? 'Wingate, in a neighboring chair, made a quiet foil to the beauty of her companion. The soaring voice of the silverthroated tenor rang through the house. George St. George, standing in the shadow of the curtain behind Jacqueline, heaved an impatient sigh. "Of all the operas Verdi wrote, the best, to my taste, is the Trovatore," she murmured, mischievously. "But you are not listening to this aria." "No," he admitted, With reckless candor. "I did not come to the opera to hear arias, but to talk to you." "Merci! Already J.liss Wingate is looking at us in wonder." "Miss Wingate's eyes have no ter. rors for me, and do I not know that her ears are sealed? Jacqueline, 1 am desperately tired of life, as I now live it!" She gave a laughing glance at the blond face which still bore the scar of skipper Joe's bullet. "You should consult a physician," she said. iuai is exacuy iyuul i am trying to do. And you are the physician. Jacqueline. Remember, this is not the first time I have been cast helpless on your hands. 1 am lonely and hear*sick, and I love you, and covet yo i with all the strength left in me. Cometo me, darling?I need you inexpressibly?poor Easil needs you!" The color fluttered in "uer cheek? her eyes grew moist. "Will Basil ever love me as he loves Doris?" she answered, softly. "1 fear not; but 1 must try hard to win a place in his heart. If you need me, 1?yes, you shall hear me confess it?I also need you!" Three month:: later Jacqueline married George St. George. Far away in her villa, among the olive and lemon gardens of the Rivi era. Aunt uraasnaw Learct tne news and wrote her stiff congratulations. She had by n maans forgiven Jacqueline, und her wounded amour propre spoke aloud in the closing lines of her letter: "Doris is now left alone. Formerly she was not my favorite; but I am lovable than yours?she has not hall your willfulness, Jacqueline! I beg Doris to corns to me here?I am old and alone. She is probably worn out with the fatigue and excitement o1 your wedding, and this paradise of a climate will give her just the rest and change she needs. Some English friends of mine have a villa at Nice? the Cravens, of Yorkshire. A nephew of the family, Mr. Theodore Craven, has lived in the States, and he tells me he knows you well. He will have business in Havre about the time the steamer arrives. Let Doris cable me, and Mr. Craven will meet her, and conduct her safely to Mentone." ' * A . . _ rp S\rl A ir n/roirt f 1 ' OQ^/l Tftrtrtll n. V-/UI 1CUU J a5aiu. oaiu line. "Oh, Doris, will you go to Aunt Bradshaw?" "For a little while," answered Doris, sweetly. "Why should I not? You are now too happy to miss me and I have never been abroad. ] will return in a few weeks, dear." "Once I forsook Aunt Bradshaw tc fly to you," smiled Jacqueline, "now you forsake me to go to Aunt Bradshaw! Well, you certainly need the change, love, and," with a glorious blush, "I should be selSsh indeed tc put so much as a straw in the way oi your pleasure, when my own cup ol happiness is full to overflowing." So Doris sailed for Havre, and in that old French city she found Teddj Craven awaiting her ? Teddey, the helpful, the kindly, with the same honest eyes and simple manners that had marked him of old. He made no attempt to disguise his joy at seeing her again. "I was never so proud in my life," he said, ingenuously, "as when Mrs. Brawshaw gave me permission to escort you to Mentone. My mother's people are at Nice. I have been fortunate enough to make myself valuable to them, and my maternal grandfather, who died a few months ago, bequeathed me?a?a?property in Yorkshire." He colored awkwardly as he told his good fortune. Doris looked at him with sympathetic eyes. She knew that he had not retained a dollar of Philip Trevor's money.. "I am very glad for you!" she said, softly. Jacqueline's marriage aroused no emotion in Teddy. "St. George is just the man to make her happy," he commented, with cheerfulness. "I am sure they are an amazing fine pair." During the journey to Mentone he waited tirelessly upon Doris?devoted himself, body and soul, to her comfort. His was the vigilant thoughtfulness that smoothes life's rough places and makes pleasant paths for tender feet. Aunt Bradshaw^ receivd her niece with cordial delight. * "It will go harfl with me," she mentally resolved, "if I do not keep her?she shall not forsake me as Jacqueline did." Man?and woman, also?proposes, hut God disposes. One morning, a week after the journey from Havre, Teddy Craven entered the red-roofed villa at Mentone, and in its garden found Doris, walking alone, with her hands full of Mediterranean violets. A flood of sunsfiine steeped the surrounding olive slopes, and the gray peaks, of the A^pes Maritimes, and shone on the girl's, snowdrop face and golden hair, as Teddy came resolutely to her side. "After T sailed for Rntland." he said, "I tried my very best to forget ycu?for what right had Philip Trevor's son to think of John Hatton's daughter? I tried, Doris, but I failed! I've been trying ever since?and with the same result. My infatuation for Jacqueline passed, but my love for you remains, and grows stronger daily. Now, tell me?what am 1 to do?" "I think your efforts are misdirected," she faltered, "do not try any more, for John Hatton's daughter would sooner possess the love of Philip Trevor's son tban any treasure in the world!" THE END. Snakes of East Africa. For one thing East Africa must have credit; snakes are not numerous, as they are in the South, at least I have never seen many. There are pythons, but they do not appear to be dangerous. I shall never forget how, down in South Africa, during the war, I once awoke and found a hlnfilr Mwambn. in bed with me. This snake is absolutely deadly. It frightened me so that after the whole thing was over I went out and "was sick. Fortunately I was quite ignorant of the fact that it was under the blankets with me, and rolled out unconcernedly. Had I known it was there, in all probability it would have struck me.?Forest and Stream. First Aid. The telephone bell rang in the consulting room of a doctor wh^>vas an enthusiastic cyclist. In hij /bsence his assistant answered it, and said the doctor was out. "Will you tell him," the voice asked, "that Mrs. Thompson has a gymkhana coming on and wants to know if he can do anything for it?" ? 'T *^11 Vmto t}-io mnmont hn comes in," the assistant answered. "Meanwhile put a bread poultice on it, and renew every two hours."?'/itBits. Their Favorite Topics. "My friends all call me down,'" conplained the artist who had just made a beautiful portrait of a well known actress, "whenever I begin to talk about my work. They won't let me brag a minute. Their either snub me or get up and go away." "They are partly right," remarked the poet sadly. "If they let us talk about our work all we wanted to there'd be no other subject of conversation."?New York Press. Large quantities of cherries are sent from Europe to this country, simply preserved in brine, to escape the high duty on fruits preserved in sugar. They are then made into "Maraschino" cherries. English mercantile marine, which forms more than one-half of the whole world's shipping, brings * at country about $450,000,000 every k \ : Kitchen at Ai ' [ . CONVICTS ACl > . Handy Fire Apparatus. , A compact and efficient-fire-fighting , apparatus that is a big improvement , over the old-fashioned system, that > required a string of buckets hanging > along the wall, has been designed by a New York man. This apparatus ! consists of a tank, inside of which is a , ' device for centering the buckets as . they are lowered into it, so that each i >i ?: i , i * ? 11 " " Each Comes Out Full. bucket fits into the one below it, and they are thus "nested," a series of them occupying little more space than 1 one would take up. The tank is filled with water or with some specially prepared fire-fighting fluid, and holds enough to insure each bticket being 1 filled as.it is drawn out. There is no time lost in seizing a bucket and running to another place to fill it, and everyone knows that speed is an essential feature in fighting flames. The ' apparatus not only does away with an unsightly row of buckets, but expedites the work of combating the blaze to an important degree. Kindly Old Plug. Auntie?"Are you sure this horse is gentle?" Miss Kentuck?"He sure is, auntie, If he'll stand for that sort of treatment. " N SUPPRESSINl .KUlf"aJl "Look here, John Henry, you ne* have a right to vote. I've a good mim next time there's an election."?Froi No Matches Wasted. Men who are accustomed to taking two cents' worth of matches every lime they buy a five-cent cigar will be I 4 uburn Prison. NNG AS COOKS. ?From Leslie's. Weekly. The False Teeth Trade. Some Idea of the general use ol false teeth may be gathered from the statement that twenty millions ol them are exported from America tc England every year. When we consider that probably not more thai half the inhabitants of Great Britair indulge in the luxury of false teeth, no matter how many grinders thej may have lost, these figures would seem to indicate that nearly everj one in England suffers from defective or missing teeth. As far as observation goes, the United States is no better off than England in this respect -Tit-Bits. Can't Knock Down Fares. Tf the trnllfiv mmnanles that, ar* experimenting with pay-within and pay-as-you-enter cars could make us? of the invention of a Nebraskan theii clifficulties would be solved and conductors with peculiar ideas of ownership would find it impossible'to.knoch down fares. This Invention is a passenger register for public vehicles but is adapted for use in carriages and coaches and not', in cars. The seats are in sockets and mounted or I Tells Distance, Too. - v sprigs. When not in use they are partly raised, but when a person sits on them they clqse and set in operation an electric registering device, which registers the length of time a person is seated, the number of persons who use the seat and the distance covered during the time the said seats are occupied. The last-mentioned figures are obtained by means of a chain gear which is attached to a wheel of the carriage, and which works after the method of the device used in taxicabs. The pounding noise of steam pipes can be obviated by attaching to the pipes a small check valve, set to admit air, but not to release any pressure. S THE VOTE edn't give yourself airs because you d to keep you in the house all day m Brooklyn Life. disappointed when they encounter th<j match machine invented by an Ohio woman. Storekeepers who have been victimized by this form of petty larceny are conversely grateful for the chance to end it. The match safe in question consists of a case a little wider than the length of a match and with inclined plane inclosed. Under the plane ia a slide with a groove running across it just large enough to admit a match. The little sulphur sticks can bo seen, piled neatly, through the glass in front of the case, but as only one comes out at a time even the hardiest "grafter" will hesitate before attempting to lay in a 1 week's supply. Another advantage of this device is the fact that it keeps the matches dry, whereas they often become damp and useless when left out in the open. In the Flatette. Miss Knicker ? "Wtiy-didn't 70a have theflat tepapered?" \ Mrs. Bocker ? "It would have I made the room* so much smaller."? MHlilltaHHtf MB ^ hhbi THE WISE MAN O' BEATJFOR& IHH \ ,Jm I [ mind the day I went away, awa} Beaufort town, Me passage money in me purse an else beside RnraJB Fhese two strong hands I meant wan M D to lay on Fortune's frown JS39| An' twist the fickle face of her til] it B smilin' wide. 1 J[H Hj Not there among the Kerry hillMeo^HHS such a task tpe done, Not there where Freedom's self h" five hundred years an' more< With each day, from the risin' to the tin' o' the sun', As like the waA to follow as the wan went before. | IVhere young men trod their fathers' IH H contentedly an' dreamed, mm, ctmvo fnr creater weal knowledge or renown Than blessed the master o the John Kearney, who was deem^^Hj^BG The wisest an' the richest man Beaufort town. With hoDes an' fears these many toiled in foreign lnndn, M An' cheek by jowl with on behind the plow, But these two restless hands o bare, work hardened han^HB^H^HQ| That plucked the frown fror^B^HHsHiB brow are filled.with mcn^B M An' knowledge deeper than ever scholar read HBHBRBI ! Or master ever taught f^KflD^HlldHQ^H quiet study hall,' ,- I've gathered through theflnH^BHfl^HHj within this grizzled hJBHBBBU All ready there for insj^^^HHHflHQHHB need may cally^^^m^R^BjjH^H Small wonder, then/that Wisdom wijlriy fameqBBR^^^H^^H Would smiled pity in' gmn^KIHM9|H| thought jtf the renown Of Master K arney there at home tnL^ \ the neighbors named ' H 1 The wisest an' the richest man in afl^H^B Beaufort town. * To-day I roam where once was home. Bad^^H here in Beaufort town JHB I walk the ould familiar ways, but 0 tHR bitter change; flyH For out o' tune with everything I wambH^H up an' down. A stranger to tne neighbor folk irlflHfl very speech is. strange. jH The great wide world I fought nnj|fl^^H]| yielded me its gold AjHB I Has put its mark upon me, an' it M let me rest. I look with sorrow on the hills^H|^H^^Hfl more can hold Contentment' for the resyi^Hfl^^H^HBJ beats within me brea^B|H|^BH^H An' so for all me wealth me presence here, John Kearney o' the prates of verb an' An' has no care for anytfl^BHB^^^^^H narrow sphere, HI Is still the wisest, rich?N|^H^M^MBS Beaufort town. ?r. A. lJaiy, m Times. SMBHHHH PFfH AND POINT. Jjjfe said he wouldn't let his daugb^^M marry a man who couldn't keep I / job." "But did you explain that yen V| loved her?" "Yes;. but he h*fl come-back ready. Said- he loved boelB too."?-Louisville COurler-Journal. Nell?"Judging from the way MisgJBBj Antique guards the family Bible sh^^D mu3t be exceedingly fond of It. ShjtaM even keeps it under lock and key^^H Belle?"YeB; you know, the date her birth is recorded in it."?Phila^flHj delphia Record. Baby's in tke ice cream freezer, GfH Willie turns the crank to squeeze her. Ma sayri: ''Dear, the way that's fixed H You'll nave that child completely ?Life. Mvpr?"AomrrHnc tn r#?nnrt? th*mi mK are no cats In the arctic region?/4^H| Gyer?"That's a fortunate thing flWf the natives, isn't it?" Myer?"Howl B9 so?" Oyer?"Well, just imagine* U cats in a country where the nights are jH sis months long." ? Chicago' Dally] fl News. JaB The housewife views with failing nerve *^B| Preserving time's proximity. |Bj She fears she can't at once preserve rvjfl| Her fruits and equanimity. ?Catholic Standard, an The Shooting Season ? Extract? from a letter from Bertie to his^H friend Percy?"Dear Percy: TheBSj Daunceys, with whom I am staying,^H are awfully decent, and do every-?HH thing they can to make my visit ?n-J^M joyable. For instance, whenever go shooting, they give me a whole H field to myself."?Punch. The Respected "Cowcatcher." afi The "cowcatcher," or pilot, off H American locomotives is an object off V derision to European engineers, who H regard the presence of a large animal S on the track as a possibility too re- pfl mote for serious consideration. Bat I constructors of locomotives for age I in colonial or oriental countries would I do well to adopt the American prac- ? tice. In Siam recently two railway accidents were caused by elephanta. 9 In one case a train of twenty-seven. X cars, drawn by two locomotives, was fl derailed, both engines were over- jjB turned and six cars telescoped. In jfl each case the offending elephant wa^^H killed by the collision. A Germ^HH firm which builds locomotives, for t?H9H railway from Damascus to Mecca vides cowcatchers of light constrao* jfl tion, but strong enough to throw a vagrant camel off the track. Then Hj engines of two Algerian lines are al-so nrovided with cowcatchers.?Scien tific American. Carp as a Food Fish. jSH When Setli Green stocked waters in this State with Gcrnaan carp to add to the "ood supply he didn't count on HI the delicate taste of Americans. The? wouldn't eat the coarse fish, and HH treated the carp with contempt. Now it seems a use has been found for the carp. Some food experts, noting the low prices at ,whlcti KB smoked salmon was offered it Chi- ^9 rago, and investigating, found that it was carp treated with pink paint and liquid smoke. Of course, that jnB fraud will he stopped; but if it was H palatable, honest smoked carp, sqld under its true name, it ought to bo a good contribution to the country's H food supply. Evidently it only needs VH smoking to make it good.?Watertown Times. "A Beaut," JR The golden-haired 3ong hird hadflSE Just bowed to her audience when a^HI man rushed frantically upon the stag^HH and cried: HH "Is there a physician in house?" fifli A young man in the third ro-n^^H ^blushing with embarrassment, arose^^H A "Say, doc," asked the man on ttaH^H sta gr-^'ith a jerk of his thumb fcflgn warfJ^^nger, "ain't she a beautjHHfi