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(? ^ ^ XSST7SD SEMI-WEEKI,^ l. m. grist & sons, Publishers. } % ^amilg fleirspper: 4or the gtrontoHon oj[ the political, Social, Sgricultnral, and <Eommeiicia]^nten>sTs of the gttplt. iterms-^oo^ye^n adv^kck established 1855. YORKYILLE. S. C., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1900. NO. 99. THE MYSTE AOA' By ANNA KATHA Author of "The Leavenworth Cas and Ring," Copyright, 1900, by Anna Katharine G Synopsis op Previous Chapters. In order that new readers of The Enquirer may begin with the following installment of this story, and understand it lust the same as though they had read it all from the beginning, we here give a synopsis of that portion of which has already been published: The story opens with the close of a ball after daylight in the morning. While the guests are leaving the house , Frederick Sutherland dashes out fran- , tically and disappears in the woods on the other side of the road. Agatha J Webb is found up stairs murdered. The' body of Batsy, the cook, is found hanging from a window. Philemon Webb, Agatha's husband, is discovered sitting before a dining table asleep. I with a smear of blood on his coat sleeve. Philemon being charged with the murder, his mind, alrady feeble gives way completely. All Agatha < Webb's money has been taken. Miss j Page, standing on the lawn, points to a , spot of blood on the grass. Frederick , Sutherland, who has been a wild fel- ' low, promises nis father to reform; also to give up Amabel Page, whom he has ( been expecting to marry. Miss Page tells Frederick that she followed him on the night of the murder and saw him secrete $1,000 in a hollow tree. She declares that he shall either marry her . or she will proclaim him a murderer. She is about to leave him and the town when she is held as a witness. The 1 past life of Agatha Webb. Six children have been born to her and all died in infancy. It is learned that the money ! taken from Agatha Webb was all in new bills. A storekeeper produces one J of them that a strange man with a ! flowing beard gave him the night of the . murder. The problem now is to find the man with the long beard. Suspic " 41 ? 4.1 1 ion talis on ine ^.aoei uiuiueio. ricuerick visits the hollow tree and finds i the money gone. Wattles a gambler from Boston, demands $950 of Frederick in payment of a gambling debt. 1 Frederick secures a check for the amount from his father, pays the debt . and is about to leave home when he is , stopped by Miss Page. CHAPTER XIV. THE DAGGER THAT KILLED AGATHA j WEBB. Confounded by this check and filled < ?.?*v> ?.. nnrrof iliot wns nifrh to dan- 1 W J III ail Ull^VTi iwttv V.W ^ gerous. be fell back and tben imme- ^ diately sprang forward. "What are you doing here?" he cried. , "Don't you know that it is 11 o'clock and that my father requires the house , to be closed at that hour?" "And you." was her sole retort, j "What are you doing here? Are you searching for flowers in the woods, j and is that valise you carry the re- , ceptacle in which you hope to put your botanical specimens?" With a savage gesture he dropped ( the valise and took her fiercely by each shoulder. "Where have you hidden my money?" he hissed. "Tell me or"? "Or what?" she asked, smiling into his face in a way that made him lose , his errin. "Or?or. I canuot answer for myself," he went on. stammering. "Do you ! think I can endure everything from you because you are a woman? No; I ' will have those bills, every one of them, or show myself your master. 1 Where are they, you incarnate fiend?" 1 It was an unwise word to use. but * she did not seem to heed it. "Ah." she said softly and with a lingering accent, as if his grasp of her had been a caress to which she was not entirely averse. "I did not think you would discover its loss so soou. When did you go to the woods. Frederick, and was Miss Halliday with you?" He had a disposition to strike her, but controlled himself. Blows would "Where havevou hidden my money?" he hinsert not avail against the softness of this suave yet merciless being. Only a will as strong as her own eouhl hope to cope with this sniiliug fury, whom lie was more than ever determined never to marry. "A man does not need to wait long to miss his owu," said he. "And if you have taken this money, which you do not deny, you have shown yourself very shortsighted, for danger lies closer to the person holding the money than to the one you may vilify by your threats. This you will find. Amabel, wheu you come to make use of the weapon with which you have thougnt to arm yourself." 'Tut, tut!" was her contemptuous reply. "Do you consider me a child? Pq RYOF THA WEBB. .RINE GREENE, e," "Lost Man's Lane," "Hand Etc., Etc. reen. I Took Tike a babbling Infant, Frederick?" Her face, which she had lifted to his in saying this, was so illumined, both by her smile, which was strangely enchanting for one so evil, and by the moonlight which so etlierealizes all it touches, that he had to think of that other purer, truer face he had left at the honeysuckle porch to keep down a last wild impulse toward her, which would have been his undoing, both in this world and the next, as he know. "Or, do I look simply like a woman?" she went on, seeing the impression she had made, and playing upon it. "A woman who understands herself and you and all the secret perils of the game we are both playing? If I am a child, treat me as a child; but if I am a woman"? "Stand out of my way!" he cried, catching up his valise and striding furiously by her. "Woman or child, you shall know that I will not be your plaything to be damned in this world and the next!" "Are you bound for the city of destruction?" she laughed, not moving, but showing such confidence in her power to hold him back that he stopped in spite of himself. "If so, you are taking the direct road there and have only to hasten. But you bad better remain in your father's house, even [f you are something of a prisoner there in company with my very insignificant self. The outcome will be more satisfactory, even if you have to share it with me." "And what course will you take." he asked, pausing with his hand on the fence, "if I choose destruction without j-ou rather than perdition with you?" "What course? Why, I shall tell Dr. ralbot just enough of what I know to prove you to be as desirable a witness in the impending inquest as myself, i'he result 1 leave to your judgment. But you will not drive me to this ex:remity. You will come bnek and"? t ?111 ......... I,.ml- | MUUUllJ, I Will UVMCI VUUIV UUVU. shall have to dare your worst iu two iveeks, aud 1 will begin by daring you aow. I"? But he did not leap the fence, though lie made a move to do so. for at that aioment a party of men came hurrying t>y on the lower road, one of whom ivas heard to say: "I will bet my head that we will put aur hand on Agatha Webb's murderer touight. The man who shoves $20 bills irouud so heedlessly should not wear a heard so long it leads to detection." It was the coroner, the constable, Knapp and Abel en route to the forest road on which lived John and James Zabel. Frederick aud Amabel confronted ?ach other and after a moment's silence turned as if by a common impulse toward t lie house. "What have they not in their heads?" queried she. "Whatever it is it may serve to occupy them till the two weeks Df your probation have passed." He did uot answer. A uew difficulty had entered his already overcrowded life. Let us follow the party now winding up the hillside. In a deeply wooded spot on a side road stood a little house to which John and James Zabel had removed when their business 011 the docks had terminated. There was 110 other dwelling of greater or lesser pretension on that road, which may account for the fact that none of the persons now approaching it had been in that neighborhood for years, though it was by 110 means a long walk from the village in which they all led such busy lives. The heavy shadows cast by the woods through which the road meandered were not without their effect upon the spirits of the three men passing through them, so that long before they reached the opening in which the Zahel cottage stood silence had fallen upon the whole party. Dr. Talbot especially looked as if he little relished this late visit to his old friends and not till they caught a glimpse of the long, sloping roof and heavy chimney of the Zabel cottage did not shake olT the gloom incident to the nature of his errand. "Gentlemen." said he. coming to a sudden halt, "let us understand each other. We are about to make a call on two of our oldest and most respectable townsfolk. If in the course of that call 1 choose to make mention of the $L'o bill left with Loton. well and good, but if not you are to take my reticence as proof of my own belief that they had nothing to do with it." Two of the party bowed. Knapp ouly made no sign. "There is 110 light in the window," observed Abel. "What if we find them gone to bedV" "We will wake them." said the constable. "1 cannot go back without being myself assured that no more money like that given to Loton remains m this house." "Very well." remarked Knapp. and going up to the door before him he struck a resounding knock that was startling in that place of silence. 1 tut loud as the summous was It brought 110 answer. Not only the moonlighted door, but the little wiudows on each side of it remained shut, and there was no evidence that the knock had been heard "Zabel! .lolin Zabel!" shouted the constable, stepping around the side of the house. "Get up. my good friends, and let an old crony in. James! John! Late as it is we have business with you. Open the door. Don't stop ? dress." But this appeal received no more recognition than the first, and after rapping on the wiudow against which he had flung the words be came back and looked up and down the front of the house. It had a solitary aspect and was much less comfortable looking than he had expected. Indeed, there were signs of poverty or at least of neglect about the place that astonished him. Not only had the weeds been allowed to grow over the doorstep, but from the unpainted front itself bits of board had rotted away, leaving great gaps about the wiudow ledges and at the base of the sunken and well nigh toppling chimney. The moon flooding the roof showed up all these imperfections with pitiless insistence, and the torn edges of the green paper shades that half concealed the rooms within were plainly to be seen as well as the dismantled knocker which hung by one naii to the old cracked door. The vision of Knapp. with his ear laid i-i.j- nrl.l/wl ts\ fnrlnrn UgHIUSl 11113 UUUI, uuvicu iu w??and sinister aspect of the scene and gave to the constable, who remembered the brothers in their palmy days, when they were the life and pride of the town, a by no means agreeable sensation as he advanced toward the detective and asked him what they should do now. "Break down the door," was the uncompromising reply. "Or wait! The window* of country houses are seldom fastened. Let me see if I cannot enter by some one of them." "Better not," said the coroner, with considerable feeling. "Let us exhaust all other means first." And he took hold of the knob of the door to shake it. when to his surprise it turned, and the door opened. It had not been locked. Rather taken aback by thla. he hesitated. But Knapp showed no such scruples. Without waiting for any man's permission he glided in and stepped cautiously, but without any delay, into a room the door of which stood wide open before him. The constable was about to follow when he saw Knapp come stumbling back with a face whiter than his own. "Devilish work." he muttered and drew the others in to see. Never will any of them forget that sight. They had not as yet recovered any more than the mass of their townsfolk from the shock of seeing Agatha Webb lying in her blood on the old horsehair sofa. But this?this was so - * 1 ? .3 1~..~ Klrx fhnf unexpecreu anu so ucijiuiuuic iuai( Lardy men though they were, they succumbed without being able to resist the overpowering impression made upon them. On tlie floor near the entrance lay one brother in a streak of moonlight which showed every feature of his worn and lifeless face, and at a table drawn up in the center of the room sat the other, rigid in death, with a book clutched in his hand. Both had been dead some time, and on the faces and in the aspect of either was visible a misery that added its own gloom to the pitiable and grewsome scene and made the shining of the great white moon, which filled every corner of the bare room, seem a mockery well nigh unendurable to those who contemplated it. John dead in his chair! James dead on the floor! What could be sadder and what more piteous? Knapp. who of them all would naturally feel this least, was of course the a, ? i. a persuu iu s>iJt*?iiv uioi. "Both wear long beards." said he. "but this one on the floor was doubtless Loton's customer. Ah!" he cried, pointing at the table, as he carefully crossed the floor. "Here is the bread, and"- Even lie had his moments of feeling. The appearance of that loaf had stunned him: one corner of it had been gnawed off. "A light! Let us have a light!" cried Mr. Fenton. speaking for the first time since his entrance. "These mooubeams are horrible. See how they cling to the bodies as if they delighted in lighting up these wasted and shrunken forms." "Could it have been hunger?" began Abel, tremblingly following Knapp's every movement as he struck a match and lit a lantern which he had brought in his pocket. "God help us all if it was." said Fenton in a secret remorse no one but Dr. Talbot understood. "But who could have believed it of men who were once prosperous. Are you sure that one of them has gnawed this bread? Could it not have been"? "These are the marks of human teeth." observed Knapp. who was ex amining the loaf carefully. "I declare, it makes me very uncomfortable, notwithstanding it's in the line of regular experiences." And he laid the bread down hurriedly. Meantime Mr. Fenton. who had been bending over another portion of the table, turned and walked away to the window "I am glad they are dead." he muttered. "They have at least shared the fate of their victims. Take a look under that old handkerchief lying beside the newspaper. Knapp." The detective did so. A three edged dagger, with a curiously wrought handle. met his eye. It had blood dried on its point and was. as no one could j doubt, the weapon with which Agatha Webb had been killed. TO BE CONTINUED. More Strict Than West Pointers. It is commonly stated by army officers that men appointed from the ranks are the strictest disciplinarians in the service and more harsh in dealing with the privates than West Pointers. Probably they may recall their own experience and regard harsh conduct as necessary to compel respect.? Washington Times. grttettllanrouis finding. WHEN THE FROST IS ON THF PUNKIN. When the frost is on the punkin anc the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble ol the struttin' turkey cock, And the clackin' of the guineas, anc the. cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hally looyeh as he tiptoes on the fence; Oh, it's then the time's a feller is a feelin' at his best, With the risin* sun to greet him frorr a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, barehead, anc goes out to teea tne siock, When the frost is on the punkin anc the fodder's in the shock. They's something kind o' harty-like about he atmosphere, When the heat of summer's over anc the coolin' fall is here? Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin' birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the air's so appetizin', and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock? When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. The husky, rusty rustle of the tossels of the corn, And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; The stubble in the furries?kind o' lonesome like, but still A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The horses in the stalls below?the clover overhead? Oh, it sets my heart a'clickin' like the tickln' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. ?James Whitcomb Riley, NATIIffl WKMIIi. 1 A Condition That Perverse Man Declines to Recognize OTHER ANIMALS SHOW MORE SENSE. Some VHlunble Points For People Wlio Have the Intelligence to Take Tliem In?Bad Health the Penalty of the Violation ol Nature** Lawn-Drug* and Nostrums Are Mainly Make-Relieve Specific*?Unnatural Stimulation Is 8teady Deal ruction?Instinct a Safer Guide Than Perverted Philosophy?How We Blame Nature For Ills That We Bring Upon Ourselves. Written for The Yorkville Enquirer. My object In this article is -to show sinners the fallacies of their anti-natural dogmas and to try and Induce them to put their trust in their instinct ?the true guide of nature. Anti-naturalism has been the besetting sin of the human race from time Immemorial. "A national superstition Is a national misfortune. No pious fraud has ever advantaged the world, for every popular delusion becomes the mother of a noxious and numerous progeny," says Helvetius. Logicians distinauish between inferential and presumtive fallacies, the first being founded upon illogical conclusions from correct premises; the second upon logical conclusions from incorrect premises. With few exceptions the most mischievous popular delusion of all ages, has arisen from the latter?the "presumtive" fallacies If a man had been persuaded that cold was a panacea, that man would naturally conclude that Siberia is the healthiest country in the world. In Hindoostan, where the sanctity of horned cattle Is an established dogma, no true believer would hesitate to indict an irreverent bull driver for blasphemy, or to preserve a beefsteak as a sacred relic. As long as we believe in anti-natural dogmas, it is perfectly logical to ascribe diseases to witchcraft and their cure to prayer; to regard man's natural instincts as his natural foes; to deny the difference between one and three, and treat mathematicians as enemies of the human race. From the moment a man is born into the world, he is treated on the principle that all of his instincts are essentially wrong?that nature must be thwarted and counteracted in every possible way. He is strapped up in a contrivance that he would gladly exchange for a straight-jacket, and prevent him from moving any limb of his body. His first attempts at locomotion are checked; he is carefully guarded from the outdoor world, from the air that would invigorate his lungs, from the sport that would develop his muscles. Hence the peevishness, awkwardness and sickliness of our young autocrats. Poor people have no time to imitate the absurdities of their wealthy neighbors, and their children profit by what the model nurse would call neglect. Christian mothers reproach themselves with neglecting their duty to their children if they do not constantly interfere with their movements; but they forget that in points of physical edu cation nature herself is such an excellent teacher that the apparent neglect is really a transfer of the pupil to a more efficient school. When a child complains of headache, lassitude, or want of appetite, the nurse concludes that he must "take something." If a baby squeals day and night, a doctor is sent for, and is ex| pec-ted to "prescribe something." What that something should be, the parent is unable to define; but has a vague idea that it should come from the drug store, and that it cannot be good lor much unless it is bitter and nauseous. Traced to its principle, their theory would be about this: "Sickness and depravity arethenormal conditionsof our nature, and salvation can only come through abnormal agencies, and a remedy. in order to be effective, must be as antj-natural as possible." Rut nature still persists in following her own laws. Her physiological laws she announces by the instincts which man shares with the humblest of his fellow creatures, and health is her free gift to all who trust themselves to the guidance of those instincts. Health is not lost by accident, nor can it be repurchased at the drug store. It is lost by physiological sins and can be regained only by sinning no more. Pisease is nature's protest against a gross violation of her laws. Suppress lng the symptoms of a disease witl drugs means to silence that protest in I, stead of removing the cause. W< might as well try to extinguish a fin by silencing the fire bells; the alarn will soon be sounded from anothei p quarter, though the first bell may noi ring again until the belfry breaks dowr 1 in a general conflagration. We cannot bully nature or defy hei ' resentment by a fresh provocation i Drugs may modify the terms of th< protest; but the law cannot be bafflec * by complicating the offense. Befon j the drugged patient can recover h< must expiate a double sin?the medI icine along with the original cause ol the disease. However, something musl be done for the sick child. The diseast * itself is a cry for help, but not foi [ drugs. Something ought to be done and oftener something habitually - done ought to be omitted. If th? baby's stomach has been tormentec 1 with twelve nursings a day, stop > four of them. Omit tea and coffef from the young lady's menu. Stop ! the dyspeptic meat rations, and th youngster's grammar lesson after dinner. Open the bedroom window and I the back door, and allow the childrer a romp in the garden. Send them tc the country to spend the day with ar 1 uncle who has a good orchard; or send for a barrel of apples. Send for a carpenter and let him turn the nursery or the woodshed into a gymnasium, Prwr tho hoKv onrooH o noiinla nf riiP'C 1 in a comfortable corner and give th? i poor little martyr a chance to move his cramped limbs. Let hirn roll, tumble 1 and kick to his heart's content and complete his happiness by throwing the paregoric bottle out of the window. I Fatigue is a warning that the physical organism is being overtaxed, and it is a sad day for anyone who finds ou< that he can rally the activity of the vital powers by means of stimulating beverages. He mistakes the effect as a sign of returning vigor, persistently Ignoring the circumstance that the excitement is invariably followed by a prostration worse than that from which relief was originally sought. Feeling the approach of a relapse, the stimula, tor again resorts to his old remedy, thus inducing another revival to be followed by increased prostration and ' so on. Before long the dose has to be increased and the stimulation ber comes a slave to his poison. The stim' ulant habit in all its forms is a dire delusion. Playing with these poisons is a losing game. The sweetness of the excitement is always more than disi counted in the inevitable reaction. The influence of anti-naturalism is most strikingly illustrated in our superstitious dread of fresh air. The air of the out-door world, the woods and hils, is par excellence a product of nature?of wild, free and untamable na ture?and therefore, the presumptive source of innumerable evils. Cold air "is the general scapegoat of all sinners against nature. If an old glutton has a cramp in the stomach, he ascribes it to an incautious exposure on coming home from a late supper. Children are forced to sleep in an unventilated bedroom till their lungs putrify with their own exhalations, and then the mother reproaches herself for the most sensible thing she has ever done, "opening the windows." The old dyspeptic, with his closet full of patent nostrums, can honestly acquit himself of having yielded to anv natural Impulse. After sweltering all summer behind hermetically closed windows, wearing flannel in the dogdays, abstaining from cold water when his stomach craved it, and swallowing drugs until his appetite has given way to nausea, his conscience bears witness that he has done what he could to suppress the original depravity of nature, nniv nncp did the enemv eret a chance at him and that was when the window was left up for half a minute. To that half minute he attributes his rheumatism. The truth is, that cold air often reveals the existence of a disease. It initiates the re-constructive process, and thus, apparently, the disease itself; but there is a wide difference between a proximate and an original cause. The only objection to a draught through a defective window is that the draught is generally not strong enough. An influx of fresh air into a musty sick room is a ray of light into darkness? a messenger of Vishnu visiting an abode of the damned. Cold is a disinfectant to a great extent, and under the pressure of a high w'nd a modicum of oxygen will penetrate a house in spite of closed windows. This circumstance alone has preserved the lives of thousands whom no cough s>rup or cod liver oil could have saved. This war against Nature is the pendulum's struggle against the law of gravitation; it is the school-boy's attempt to obstruct a mighty river. Swinging right, swinging left, the pendulum must return to the middle; the stream will find its way to the valley athwart all dams, in spite of all obstructions. We cannot suppress the source of natural instinct. All we can achieve by such an attempt is to divert the stream from its natural course?to turn a natural into an unnatural passion. The deluge of madiaeval superstitions is fast assuaging, and many a submerged truth has reappear--i ?!>? ? nf q fnrmpr and better CU 11 n. tr <x uniucoi. w*. c*. world and now stand as a waymark on the road to a true science of life. We have rediscovered the truth that the weal and woe of earth are not distributed by the caprices of a mysterious fate; but that they follow as sure effects upon ascertainable causes. Our best thinkers have ceased to doubt that man can work out his own destiny; that ti.e Creator has made us the keepers of our own happiness on . conditions which he never violates; , that he has attached pleasure to every right act, and pain to every wrong; that he fulfills the promises of our yearnings and never permits us to sin unwarned. We have at last begun to realize tbe fact that the physical laws of God find an echo in the voice of our Innate monitor, and only a hereditary mistrust in the Instincts makes us still hesitate to commit ourselves to its guidance. shall we persist in a hopeless endeavor? The dam builders are still at work; but the rising stream surges with ominous eddies, constantly threatening to burst through all obstructions, - and cover the valley with wreck and 1 ruin! There Is only one remedy. We - must re-open the natural channel. We must repair and improve its ancient i banks?remove the dam that obstructs i the stream, and build a dike along the r shore. C. F. Williams, M. D. t " i COMMANDANT BOTHA. r Pen Picture of the Brave Young Leader of the j Boers. 1 A. G. Hales, ill the London News. i Louis Botha, who has cut so .deep a i mark in the pages of history, is only a young man yet, being about seven and f thirty years of age. He is a "fine figure t of a man," standing in the neighbori hood of six feet in his boots. His face is handsome, intellectual and deter, mined, his expression kindly and comr passionate. The razor never touches ; his face, but his brown beard is always I neatly trimmed, for the young com> mandant-general is particular in re; gard to his personal appearance in a ) manly way, though in a measure fool? ish. He is now. and alwavs has been. an excellent athlete, a good rifle-shot I and a first-class horseman, not given i at anytime to Indoor pastime over> much, though fond of a quiet game of l whist. He was born In Natal, of Dutch 1 parents, and married Miss Emmet, a relative of Robert Emmet, the Irish r revolutionist. Young Botha was edu. cated at Greytown, and though a good i sound commercial scholar, he gave no ! evidence in his schoolboy days of what i was m him. No one who knew him t then would have dreamed before he I was 40 years of age he would be the t foremost soldier of his country. His folks were moderately well off, but the adventurous spirit of the future gene1 ral sent him inland from Natal when : a large number of Natal and Free State Boers enlisted under the flag of General ; Lucas Meyer, who was bent upon war, i on a powerful Negro tribe in the neigh' borhood of Vryheld. During the fighting young Botha was his general's right . hand man, displaying even at that eari ly age a cool, level head and a stout ; heart. When the Boers were firmly settled upon the land, Vryheld was rei clared a republic, and Lucas Meyer ( was elected first president. But the 1 new republic lasted only about three i years, and was then, by mutual consent, merged into Transvaal territory, and both Lucas Meyer and Louis f wotha were elected members of the i Volksraad. Louis Botha retained his i seat right up to the time hostilities broke out between Great Britain and the republics under Mr. Kruger and i Mr. St'eyn. During the many stormy scenes ' which preceded the actual declaration of war, Louis Botha proved that he possessed the most level head in the Volksraad. He opposed the war, and with prophetic eye foresaw the awful devastation which would follow i% the footsteps of the British army. But when the time came and his nla/ltrorl trv I COUIlliy Wcia lucmcvauij f<^u&vv4 vw war, he was not the man to hang back. He was one of those who had much to lose, and little Indeed to gain by taking up arms against us, for by honest industry he had become a wealthy farmer and stock breeder. At the first call to arms he threw aside his senatorial duties and took up his rifle, rejoining his old commando at Vryheld as commander under General Lucas Meyer. It is said that at the battle of Dundee, General Meyer, feeling convinced that the god of battles had decided against him and his forces, decided to surrender to the British; but Lucas Botha fiercely combatted his general's decision and point blank refused i to throw down his arms or counsel his men to do so. What followed all the world knows, and Botha went up very high in the estimation of the better class of fighting burghers. At the Tugela, before the first big battle took place, General Meyer was taken ill, and had to retire to Pretoria, and Louis Botha was then elected assistant general, and the planning of the battle was loft ontirelv to him. It was a terribly responsible position to place so young a man in, for he was face to face with the commander-inchief of the British army, Sir Redvers Buller, a general of dauntless determination and undoubted ability. Experience, men, guns and all the munitions of war were in favor of the British general; but the awful nature of the country was upon the side of the newly fledged Boer leader, and he made terrible use of it. The day of Colenso, when Sir Redvers Buller received his first decisive shock, will not soon be forgotten in the annals of our army. A man of weaker fibre than the British leader would have been daunted by the disaster of that day, for there he lost ten guns and a large unmber of men. But Buller carried in his blood all the old grit of our race, and the heavier the check the more his soul was set upon ultimate victory. I have been over that battle ground, and have ; looked at the positions taken by Louis Botha. They were chosen with consummate skill, born of a thorough knowledge of the nature of the country and inherent generalship. I have looked at the country Sir Red?.... r>.,iiQ^ H..H tn rwss throueh to eret vera liuiivi i?mv4 |?? w_ _ ^ at his wise and skillful adversary. The man who dared make the attempt that Buller made must have nerves of steel and a soul that would not blanch If ordered to storm the very gates or Hades. The worst fighting ground that I saw in all the Free State was but a mockery of war compared to the ground around Colenso, and I have 1 seen some terrible places In the Free State. But a man has to see the ground Buller fought on to realize the magnitude of the task he set himself at the beginning of the war. The battle of Colenso made young Louis Botha famous, and from that hour the eyes of the burghers were turned toward him as the man fit to lead them. As Splon Kop, when the Boer leader, Schalk Berger, vacated the splendid position he had been ordered to keep up, Louis Botha's genius grasped the mighty import of the institution, and he at once realized that Schalk Burger had blundered terribly, and it was he who retook those positions with such disastrous consequeni ces to our forces. His fame spread far and near, and his name became a thing to conjure with. When the command er-general of the Boer army, General Joubert, lay dying, he was asked who was the best man to fill his place. And, he, the gray veteran, did not hesitate for a second; but with his dying breath gasped out the name of Louis liotha. The Boer government appointed him to the position, and from that day to this he has been the paramount military power in the Boer lines. He is not the only one of his line fighting under the Transvaal flag. There have been four other brothers in the field. As a soldier Louis Botha has proved himself the foeman worthy the steel of any of our generals; as a man, his worst enemy can say nothing derogatory concerning him, for in all his actions he has borne himself like a gentleman. He is generous and courteous In the hour of victory, stout hearted and selfrenant in the time of disaster?just the type of soldier that a great nation like ours knows how to esteem, even though he is an enemy in arms against us. RURAL FREE DELIVERY. Rapid Growth of tho Service a Source of Gratification. The continued and# rapid growth of the postal service Is a sure Index of the great and Increasing business activity of the country. Its most striking new development Is the extension of rural free delivery. This has come almost wholly within the last year. At the beginning of the fiscal year 1899-1900 the number of routes In operation was only 391, and most of these had been running less than twelve months. On the 15th of November, 1900. the number had Increased to 2,614, reaching Into 44 states and territories and serving a population of 1,801,524. The number of applications now pending and. awaiting action nearly equals all those granted up to the present time, and by the close of the current fiscal year about 4,000 routes will have been established, providing for the dally delivery of mails at the scattered homes of about 3,500,000 of rural population. This service ameliorates the isolation of farm life, conduces to good roads and quickens and extends the dissemination of general information. Experience thus far has tended to allay the apprehension that it would be so expensive as to forbid Its general adoption or make It a serious burden. Its actual application has shown that It increases postal receipts, and can be accompanied by reductions In other ' branches of the service, so that the augmented revenues and the accomplished savings together materially reduce the net cost. The evidences which point to these conclusions are presented In detail in the annual report of the postmaster general, which, with Its recommendations, is recommended to the consideration of congress. The full development of this special service, however, requires such a large outlay of money that it should be undertaken only after a careful study and thorough understanding of all thati^jflxolvesr^President McKlnley's r^ssage to congress. GRACE McKINLEY SCHOOLMA'AM. President McKinley Wanted to Adopt Her; But She Prefers to Teach. It is seldom that a young girl, who may have wealth and the highest social position, chooses the drugdery and Irksome duties of a schoolteacher. Such a unique specimen of fair American maidenhood is found in the orphan illCVJC Ui JTICOIUCUV 1UV1V.I1 1>1?WW Grace McKlnley. A year ago, last June, the president and Mrs. McKlnley, with a party of friends?cabinet officers and other prominent officers? went to that staid and distinguished seat of learning, Mount Holyoke college, Massachusetts, to see Miss Grace take her degree of A. B. Few events In the official life of our present executive have given him such genuine pleasure as this graduation. Miss Grace stood at the head of her class, while her record during the entire course, had been one of praiseworthy endeavor. The president, to show his appreciation of her success, bestowed on his niece a beautiful diamond pin. The graduation dress, a dainty creation of white chiffon and lace, was Mrs. McKinley's gift. It was made at the White House, under the personal supervision of its gentle mistress. It was after this great event that the president offered to adopt Miss Grace, formally, and thus make her the reigning belle of the nation?the social leader of the capital?the only young girl in the presidential mansion at Washington. This was surely a tempting offer, but it did not swerve this beautiful and brilliant girl from a long-cherished aspiration. She wished to use her gifts in a fitting way?in one to which she had endeavored to train herself during her long and severe probation at Mount Holyoke. She chose the arduous profession of a school teacher, and this fall, on her own application, sustained by her record at college, she secured a position In the high school at Middletown, Conn. She began her duties in September.?December Success. Z-:? The peaceful Mennonites of Pennsylvania, who believe that Christians ought not to take oaths, hold public offices, or render military service, have a curious way of electing their bishops. There were three candidates for a recent vacancy. Three Bibles, ir. one of which were a slip of paper, were placed on the pulpit of the "meeting house." Each wouldbe bishop took a Bible, and the one who secured the white slip was declared elected. t*r "She's In a terrible predicament." "In what way?" "Why. that rich old man that she promised to marry has offered to have his life insured in her favor." "I should say that was both considerate and thoughtful of him." "But you don't understand. If his physical condition is such that any insurance company would accept him as a risk, she doesn't want to marry him." iW Mamma,," queried little Ethel, "what are the stars in the sky for?' "Each star is a world like ours, dear," replied her mother. "Why," exclaimed the astonished Etnel, "I thought they were just little holes to let the rain through."?Chicago News. V . -.J*