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^ ? -v. X . gggg?gjgg?. --? .-^???MMMMWi^hiia^^tM^iMilteMMIiiMMBiiiMi^MilM,i,,Mli,l,,,IMM,IMMM,,,M,,,,,.,,,,,,,IIMM,,^ ^ ISSUED SKMMTBEKL^^ l k. OEIST'8 sons, Pvbii terT~j 7 ? ^amilj $ewigaftr: jfor lh^ promotion of th< political, gonial, g-gricuttaral and ^owmeijtial Jitttrwis of thi gtoflt. {TEg''?8w^opy^UNci?ii!''cg" ESTABLISHED I8?i YORKVILLE, 8. C., FRIDAY, JANUARY 6, 19Q5. . 1STO. 2. \ k f jyrTi By IR' ING Author of " Ebon Holde " M D L 9 I (Copyright, ma, CHAPTER VIL The sun was lifting above the treetope when the oount's valet tiled me that morning at the Chatei i Le Ray. Robins were calling und< my L windows, and the groves rang with tournaments of happy song. 01 that dinner-party only the count w s at breakfast with me. We ate hur &dly, and when we had risen the horsefwere at the door. As to my own, tall chestnut thoroughbred that Mr. ] irisn had brought over from Engla d, 1 never saw him in finer fettle. I tarted Seth by Caraway Pike for 0[ lensburg with the count's message. Mine hoet laid hold of my elbof and gave it a good shake as I left him, with D'ri, taking a trail that led wth k by west in the deep woods. Thef had stuffed our saddle-bagB with a ?enty foreman and horse. I could not be done thinking < the young ladies. It put my heart |n a flutter when I looked back at thicastle from the wood's edge and sa' one of them waving her handkerch! ( in a window. I lifted my hat, an put my spurs to the flank with st ih a pang in me that I dared not look >ack again. Save for that one thi g, I never felt better. The trail was sn nth, k and we galloped along in silent for m a mile or so. Then it narrowed o a stony path, where one had enou, i to do with slow going to take care i his head, there were so many boug i in the way. r "Jerushy Jane!" exclaimed D*i , as he slowed down. "Thet air's a ran* place. Never hed my karkiss 1 no sech bed as they gin me las' ni it? a softer 'n wind, an' hed springs 01 like them new waglns ye see over 'n Vermont Jerushy! Dreamed I was fljpn'." I had been thinking of what do if we met the enemy and were lard pressed. We discussed it freely* ind made up our minds that if there ime any great peril of capture we i wld separate, each to take his own ray out of the difficulty. We halted by a small brook at Jd* day, feeding the horses and oursiree out of the saddle-bags. "Ain't jest eggzac'ly used t' ^ls kind uv a sickle," said D'rl, as he felt the edge of his saber, "but I be dumed ef it don't seem es ef I 'd ter be ruther dang'rous with thet a 'n my hand." He knew a little about rough fig] Ing . with a saber. He had seen my fi her ^ and me go at each other hammer ind tongs there in our dooryard even lay of good weathob^ c!t?>. ui> tlayKlS BW" always stood by in the kitchen, | iaring with laughter, as the good j teel rang and the bouse trembled. He tiad been slow to come to it, but had lad k his try with us, and had learne to ^ take an attack without flinching. I ent at him hard for a final lesson that lay in the woods? a great folly, I raa nswim (n Irnnw Wo cot warm tnd I made more noise than I had any thought of. My horse took alarm md pulled away, running into a thick I I turned to catch him. "Judas Priest!" said D'rL There, within 10 feet of us, I taw what made me, ever after, a more ru?, dent man. It was an English oljcer leaning on his sword, a tall and hi idsome fellow of some 40 years, in styny top-boots and scarlet blouse ind gauntlets of brown kid. "You are quite clever," said n, touching his gray mustache. I made no answer, but stood pal lie g myself together. ^ "You will learn," he added, snllfcg, with a tone of encouragement 'Vet me show you a trick." He was most polite in his manfer, like a play-hero, and came toward me as he spoke. Then I saw four other Britishers coming out close in u>on us from behind trees. He came at me quickly, andil ?et him. He seemed to think it would be ^ no trick to unhand my weapon. Ufce ^ a flash, with a whip of his saber.be tried to wrench it away. D'rf had HPi! GODS OF THE I 8PARKS FLY.| begun to shoot, dodging txtw?n trees, and a redcoat had tumbfed over. | bore in upon my man. tit ae came ^ back at me with surprisinf vfeor. On W my word, he was the quickest swordsman I ever had the hon<r a' facing But he had a mean way o saying "U?t" 00 ho tiirnori mvl nnnt Ho Ibood angered me, whereupon I lost a bit of caution, with some Mod, for he was at me like a flash, and gazed me on the hip before I could get ay head again. It was no parlor ply, I can tell you. We were lighting for life, and both knew it. We fought hp add down through brakes and busies md over stones?a perilous footiig. I could feel his hand weakening, I put all my speed to the steel tlen, knowing well that, barring accidfot, 1 should win. I could hear somebody coming up behind me. "Keep away there," toy aJrersary shouted, with a fairness | admire when I think of it "I can hagdle him. Get the other fellow." f md I 1 BACHELLER irrel of the E.lessed Isles," Eto. * Jf op PnMlihlnp OompMiyJ | I went at him to make an and of it "I'll make you squint, you young cub," be hissed, lunging at me. He ripped my blouse at the shoulder, and, gods of war! we made the sparks fly. Then he went down, wriggling; I had caught bim in the side, poor fellow! Like a flash 1. was off in a thicket One of the enemy got out of my way and sent a bullet after me. I could feel it rip and iiting in the muscle as It rubbed my ribs. I kept foot and made for my horse. He had caught his reins, and I was on him and off in the bush, between bullets that came ripping the leans about me, before they could give chase. Drums were beating the call to arms somewhere. I struck the trs.il In. a minute, and. leaning low in the saddle, went. bounding over logs and rocks down a steep hillside as if the devil were after me. I looked back, and was nearly raked off by a bough. I could hear horses coming in the trail behind with quick and heavy jumps. But 11 was up to rough riding and had little fear they would get a sight of me. However, crossing a long stretch of burnt timber, they must have seen me. I heard a crack of pistols far behl id; a whiz of bullets over my head I shook out the reins and let the b >rse go, urging with clock and spur, r iver slacking for rock or hill or gwalr. It was a wilder rids than any I have known since or shall again, I can promise you, for, God knows, I have been hurt too often. Fast riding over a new trail is leaping in the d irk and worse than treason to one's self. Add to It a saddle wet with your own blood, then you have something to give you a turn of the stomach thinking of It When I was sear tumbling with a kind of rib-ache and could hear no pursuer, I pulled up. There was silence about me, save the sound o' a light breeze in the tree-tops. I rolled off my horse, and hooked my elbow In the reins, and lay on my belly, grunting with pain. I felt better, having got my breath, and a rod of beech to bite upon?a good thing if one lias been badly stung and has a jo lrney to make. In Ave minutes I wax up and off at a slow jog, for I knew I was near safety. I thought muqh of poor P'ri and how he might be faring. The last I had seen of him, he was making good use of pistol and legs, ruunirg from tree to tree. He was a dead shot, little given to wasting lead. The drums were what worried me, for they Indicated p. big cMrp. *jd jmle? Aa-moi ?hn stirrups in short order, he must have been taken by overwhelming odds. It was near suadown when I came to a brook and fslls I could not remember passing. Hooked about ir e. Somewhere I had gone off the old trail? everything was new to me. It widened, as I rode on, up a steep hill. Where the tree-tope opened, the hill was covered with mossy turf, and there were fragrant ferns on each side of me. The ground was clear of brush and dead timber. Suddenly I heard a voice singing?a sweet girl voice that thrilled me, I do not know why, save that I always longed for the touch of a woman if badlyIhurt. But then I have felt that way having the pain of neither lead nor steeL The voice rang in the silent wood^ but I could see no one nor any sign of human habitation. Shortly I came out upon a smooth roadway carpeted with sawdust. It led through a grove, and following it, I came suddenly upon a big green mansion among the trees, with Doric pillars and a great portico where hammocks hung with soft cushions in tbem, and easy-chairs of old mahogany stood empty. I have said as little as possible of my aching wound: I have always thought it bad enough for one to suffer his own pain But I must say I was never so tried to keep my head above me as when I came to that door. Two figures in white came out to meet me. At first I did not observe?I had enough to do keeping my eyes open?that they were the Miles, de Lambert. "God save us!" I heard one of them say. "He is hurt; he is pale. See ths blood running off his bootleg." Then, as one took the bit, the other eased me down from my saddle, calling loudly for help. She took her handkerchief?that had a perfume I have not yet forgotten?as she supported me, and wiped the sweat and dust from my face. Then I saw they were the splendid young ladies I had seen at the count's table. The discovery put new life In me; it was like a dash of water in the face. I lifted my hat and bowed to them. "L8dies, my thanks to you," I said in as good French as I knew. "I have been shot May I ask you to send for a doctor?" A butler ran down the steps; a gardener and a stable-boy hurried out of the grove. "To the big room?the LouisQulnze," said one of the girls, excitedly, as the men came to my help. The fat butler went pufTing upstairs, and they followed, on each side of me. "Go for a doctor, quick," said one of them to the gardener, who was coming behind?a Frenchman who prayed to a saint as he saw my blood. They led me across a great green rug in a large hall above-stairs to a chamber of which I saw little then save its size and the wealth of its ippointments. The young ladies set t^e down, bidding one to take off my boots, and sending another for hot water. They asked me where I was hurt. Then they took off my blouse and waistcoat "Mon Dieu!" said one to the other. "What can we do? Shall we cut the shirt?" "Certainly. Cut the shirt," saia uw other. "We must help him. We camnot let him die." "God forbid!" was the answer. "See the blood. Poor fellow! It is terrible!" They spoke very tenderly as they cut my shirt with scissors, and bared my back, and washed my wound with warm.water. ' never felt a. touch 801 I caressing as that of their light fingers, but, gods of war! it did hurt me. The bathing done, they bound me big with bandages and left the room until the butler had helped me into bed. They came soon with spirits and bathed my face and hands. One leaned over me, whispering, and asking what I would like to eat Directly a team of horses came prancing to the door. "The colonel!" one of them whispered, listening. "The colonel, upon my soul!" said the other, that sprightly Louison, as she tiptoed to the window. They used to call her "Tiptoes" at the Hermitage. The colonel! I remembered she was none other than the Baroness de Ferre; and thinking of her and the grateful feeling of the sheets of soft linen, I fell asleep. CHAPTER VIII. The doctor came that ntglt, and took out of my back a piece of fattened lead. It had gone under the flesh, quite half round my body, next to the ribs, without doing worse than to rake the bone here and there and weaken me with a loss of blood. I woke awhile before he came. The baroness and the fat butler were sitting beside me. She was a big, stout woman of some 40 years, with dark hair and gray eyes, and teeth of remarkable symmetry. That evening, I remember, she was in full dress. "My poor boy!" said she, In English and in a sympathetic tone, as she bent over me. Indeed, my own mother could not have been kinder than thst good woman. She was one that had a heart and hand for the sick-room. I told her how I had been hurt end of my ride. She heard me through with a glow in her eyes. "What a story!" said she. "What a dare-devil! I do not see how it has been possible for you to live." She spoke to me always in English of quaint wording and quainter accent She seemed not to know that I could speak French. An impressive French tutor?a fine old fellow, obsequious and bald-headed ?eat by me all night to give me medicine. In the morning I felt as if I had a new heart in me, and was planning to mount my horse. I thought I ought to go about my business, but I fear I thought more of the young ladles and the possibility of my seeing them again. The baroness came In after I had a bite to eat. I told her I felt able to ride. "You are not able, my child. You cannot ride the horse now," said she, feeling my brow; "maybe not for a ver' long time. I have a large house, plenty servant, plenty food. Parbleu! be content We shall take good care of you. If there is one message to go to your chief, you know I shall send it" I wrote a brief report of my adventure with the British, locating the scene as carefully as might be, and she seat it bp mounted jg<ws?nger to "the Burg." "The young ladies they wish to see you," said the baroness. "They are kind-hearted; they would like to do ? * - " "TWA T **11 *k*m nn> I wnat mey can. dhi & ?,cn wcui they will make you to be very tired." "On the contrary, It will rest me. Let them come," I said. "But I warn you," said she, lifting her finger as she left the room, "do not fall in love. They are full of mischief. They do not study. They do not care. You know they make much fun all day." The young ladies came in presently. They wore gray gowns admirably fitted to their fine figures. They brought (big bouquets and set them, with a handsome courtesy, on the table beside me. They took chairs and sat solemn-faced, without a word, as if it were a Quaker meeting they had come to. I never saw better models of sympathetic propriety. I was about to speak. One of them shook her head, a finger on her lips. "Do not say one word," she said solemnly in English. "It will make you ver* sick." It was the first effort of either of them to address me in English. As I soon knew, the warning had exhausted her vocabulary. The baroness went below in a moment. Then the one who had spoken came over and sat near me, smiling. "She does not know you can speak French," said she, whispering and addressing me in her native tongue, as the other tiptoed to the door. "On vour life, do not let her know. She will never permit us to see you. She will keep us under lock and key. She knows we cannot speak English, so she thinks we cannot talk with you. It is a great lark. Are you better?" What was I to do under orders from such authority? As they bade me, I hope you will say, for that is what I did. I had no easy conscience about it, I must owa Day after day I took my part in the little comedy. They came in Quaker-faced If the baroness were at hand, never speaking, except to her, until she bad gone. Then?well, such animation, such wit, such bright eyes, such brilliancy, I have never seen or heard. My woand was healing. War and stern duty were as things of the far past. The grand passion had hold of me. I tried to fight it down, to shake it off, but somehow it had the claws of a tiger. There was an odd thing about it ail: I could not for the life of me tell which of the two charming girls I loved the better. It may seem incredible; I could not understand it myself. They looked alike, and yet they were quite different. Louison was ft year older and of stouter build. She bad more animation also, and always a quicker and perhaps a brighter answer. The other had a face more serious, albeit no less beautiful, and a slower tongue. She had little to say, but ber silence had much in it to admire, and, indeed, to remember. They appealed to different men in me with equal force, I did not then know why. A perplexing problem it was, and I bad to think and suffer much before I saw the and of it, and really came to know what love is and what it is not. Shortly I was near the end of this delightful season of illness. I had been out of bed a week. The baroness had read to me every day, and had been so kind that I felt a great shame for my part in our deception. Every afternoon she was off in a boat or in her caleche, and had promised to take me with her as soon as I was able to got "You know/' said she. "I am going V | 10 make you stay Her a full month. I have the consent of the general." I I had begun to move about a little and enjoy the splendor of that forest home. There were, Indeed, many rare and priceless things in it that came ; out of her chateau in France. She had eome curious old clocks, tokens of ancestral taste and friendship. There was one her grandfather had got from the land of Louis XIV.?le Orand Monarque, of whom my mother had begun to tell me as soon as I could hear with understanding. Another came from the bedchamber of Philip II. of Spain?a grand high clock that tolled the hours In that great hall beyond my door. A little thing, in a case of carved ivory, that ticked on a table near my bed, Mollere had given to one of her ] ancestors, and there were many otheife of equal interest Her walls were adorned with art treasures of the value of which I had little appreciation those daya But I remember there were canvasses of Correggio and Rembrandt and Sir Joshua Reynolds. She was, indeed, a woman of fine taste, who had brought her best to America; for no one had a doubt, in the time of which I am writing, that the settlement of the Compagnie de New York would grow into a great colony, with towns and cities and fine roadways, and the full complement of high living. She had built the Hermitage?that was the name of the mansion?fine and splendid as it was, for a mere temporary shelter pending the arrival of those better days. She had a curious fad, this hermit baroness of the big woods.' She loved nature and was a naturalist of no poor attainments. Wasps and hornets were the special study of this remarkable woman. There were at least a score of their nests on her front por-1 tico?big and little and some of them oddly shaped. She hunted them in wood and field. When she found a nest she had it moved carefully after nightfall, under a bit of netting, and fastened somewhere about the gables. Around the Hermitage were many witherod boughs and briers holding cones of wrought fiber, each a citadel of these uniformed soldiers of the air and the poisoned arrow. They were assembled in colonies of yellow, white, blue, and black wasps, and whitefaced hornets. She had no fear of them, and, indeed, no one of the household was ever stung to my knowledge. I have seen her stand in front of her door and feed them out of a saucer. There were special favorites that would light upon her palm, overrunning its pink hollow and gorging at the honey-drop. 'They will never sting," she would say, "if one does not declare war. To strike, to make any quick motion, it gives them anger. Then, mon cher ami! it is terrible. They cause you to burn, to ache, to make a great noise, and even to lie down upon the ground. If people come to see me, if I get a new servant, I say: ' Make to them no attention, and they will not harm you.*" In the house I have seen her catch one by the wings on a window and, holding it carefully ask me to watch her captive?sometimes a great daredevil hornet, lion-maned?as he lay stabbing with his poison-dagger. "Now," said she, "he is angry; he will remember. If I release him he will sting me when I come near him again. So I do not permit him to lire?I kill him." Then she would impale him and invite me to look at him with the microscope. One day the baroness went away to town with the young ladies. I was quite alone with the servants. Father Joulln of the chateau came over and sat awhile with me, and told me how he had escaped the Parisian mob, a night in the Reign of Terror. Late in the afternoon I walked awhile in the grove with him. When he left I went slowly down the trail over which I had ridden. My strength was coming fast. I felt like an idle man, shirking the saddle, when I should be serving my country. I must to my horse and make an end to dallying. With thoughts like these for company, I went farther than I intended. Returning over the busby trail I suddenly came upon? Loulson! She was neatly gowned in ? ?- 3 t.li. piDK ana wants. "Le diable!" said she. "You surprise me. I thought you went another way." "Or you would have not have taken thli one," I said. "Of course not," said she. "One does not wish to find men if she is hunting for?for?" she hesitated a moment, blushing?'"mon Dieu! for bears," she added. I thought then, as her beautiful eyes looked up at me smiling, that she was incomparable, that I loved her above all others?I felt sure of it. "And why do you hunt bears?" I Inquired. "I do not know. I think it is because they are so?so beautiful, so amiable!" she answered. "And such good companions." "Yes; they never embarrass you," she went on. "You never feel at loss for a word." "I fear you do not know bears." "Dieu! better than men. Voila!" she exclaimed, touching me with the end of her parasol. "You are not so I terrible. I do not think you would bite." "No; I hare never bitten anything but?but bread and doughnuts, or something of that sort." "Come, I desire to intimidate you. Won't you please be afraid of me? Indeed, I can be very terrible. See! I have sharp teeth." She turned with a playful growl, and parting her crimson lips, showed them to me?white and shapely, and as even as if they had been wrought of ivory. She knew they were beautiful, the vixen. "You terrify me. I have a mind to run," I said, backing off. "Please do not run," she answered quickly. "I should be afraid that? that " She hesitated a moment, stirring the moss with one dainty foot. "That you might not return," she added, smiling as she looked at me. "Then?then perhaps it will do as well If I climb a tree." "No, no; I wish to talk with you." "Ma'm'selle, you honor me," I said. "And dishonor myself, I presume, with so much boldness," she went on. "It is only that I have something to say; and you know when a woman has something to-rto say?" "It Is a fool that do?a not listen if she be as fair as you," I nut in. "You are?well, I shall not say what I think of you, for fear?for fear of giving offense," said she, blushing as she spoke. "Do you like the life of a soldier?' j "Very much, and especially when I am wounded/ with such excellent care and company." "Dut your s|de?It was horribly torn. I did feel very sorry?indeed I did. You will go again to the war?" "Unless?unless? Ah, yes, ma'm'selle, I shall go again to the war," I stammered, going to the brink of confession, only to back away from it, as the blood came hot to my cheeks. She broke a tiny bough and began stripping its leaves. "Tell me, do you love the baroness?" she Inquired as she whipped a swaying bush of brier. The question amazed me. I laughed nervously. "I respect, I admire the good woman?she would make an excellent mother," was my answer. "Well spoken!" she said, clapping her handa "I thought you were a fool. I did not know whether you were to blame or?or the Creator." "Or the baroness," I added laughing. "Well," said she, with a pretty shrug, "is there not a man for every woman? The baroness thinks she is Irresistible, >8he has money. She would like to buy you for a plaything?to marry you. But I say beware. She is more t terrible than the keeper of the Bastyle. And you?you are too young!"! "My dfar girl," said I, in a voice of pleadingi "it Is terrible. Save *e! Save me, I pray you!" "Pooh! I do not care!"?with a gesture of Indifference. "I am trying to save myself, that Is all." "From what?" "Another relative. Parbleu! I have enough." She stamped her foot impatiently as she spoke. "I should be very terrible to you. I should say the meanest things. I should ci.ll you grandpapa and give you a new cane every Christmas." "And If you gave me also a smile, I should be content" More than once I was near declaring myself that day, but I had a mighty fear she was playing wfth me and I held my tongue. There was an odd light in her eyes. 1' knew not, then, what It meant "You are easily satisfied," was her answer. ? 1 a- ?? T I J (llf... "I am 10 leave bouu, i amu. iuo; I not see you here to-morow?" "Alas! I do not think you can," was her answer. "And why not?" "Because it would ndt be proper," said she, smiling as she looked up at me. "Not proper! I should like to know why." "It would make me break another engagement," she went on laughing. "I am to go with the baroness to meet the udtnt 1Tlie*TOmw??heita? commanded. The day after, in the morning, at 10 o'clock, by the cascade?will that do? Good! I must leave you now. I must not return with you. Remember!" she commanded, pointing at me with her tapered forefinger. "Remember?10 o'clock In the morn* ing." Then she took a bypath and went out of sight I returned to the mansion as deep in love as a man could be. I went to dinner with the rest that evening. Louison came in after we were all seated. "You were late, my dear," said the baroness. "Yes; I went away walking and lost something, and was not able to find it again." TO BE CONTINUED. A Slave to Habit. "If it is Just the same to you, please 'et me have that chair you are sitting oil,' Earn a ciern in an unite mc wnier day. His request was grranted without any objections, but several men in the office wanted to know why he wanted the particular chair. "Well," said the clerk. "I have simply got in the habit of using it, as well as a certain penholder, pencil, desk, typewriter and so forth. This thing they call habit Is worth some thought and study, even for busy clerks. Now. for instance, I suppose you are used to smoking a certain brand of cigar. Your dealer might try to convince you that another cigar is as good, or even better, but you would cling to the old friend. Getting in the habit of doing things is responsible for this. "Again, you may be used to wearing a certain style of shoe, which pleases you very much and looks well also. You want to buy a new pair. The shoe store salesman has a new toe he wants to Interest you In, but you ask for the same old style as before, simply because you have been accustomed to It, that's all. I recall an Incident which brings my theory Into full relief as an example. I use a typewriter In my business. I need not mention the make, but I may add It is a standard machine and reputed to be very fine. Well, I went away for a few i days in the country." I wanted to use a typewriter, but I could not secure my old make. I tried to write in pencil. To my surprise, I met with the same difficulty. "I might go on citing many other habits I have acquired, but I am quite sure you are a victim of the 'get the 1 habit' fever. My wife never buys my < neckwear or collars any more, Decause she tried to please me several times, ; but I had simply become accustomed to wearing things after my own style, and the wearables she bought did not < appeal to me." Tired of Being Fired.?Peter was a good workman, but he would go on 1 sprees. His employer was lenient but when Peter turned up after having been absent for a couple of days without leave he discharged him. But Peter did not take his discharge seriously and went back to work as usual. Again he went on a spree, and again he was discharged and taken back. These little escapades had been re- 1 peated four or five times within a couple of years, when Peter walked Into the shop one morning looking much the worse for his celebration. "See here," said the employer, "you are discharged." "Look here," said Peter, "I am tired of this. If I am fired again i I'll quit the Job." And he went on about his work and has not been ; "fired" since.?Philadelphia Record. JKisccllaneous Sraditif). LYINQ WITNE88E8. Lawyer* Who Know Thair Buainota Can Catoh Thorn. How does a lawyer know when a witness Is lying? And when he knows a witness Is lying, how does he go about.It.to expose the perjury? Jf all lawyers knew these two things there woyld no longer be good lawyers and- poor lawyers, for all lawyers would be good. Sometimes lawyers take a long chance and "guess" that a witness Is deliberately lying. A story Is told of Jeremiah Mason, the famous New England lawyer of Daniel Webster's day. Mason was cross examining a witness whose testimony could not be shaken. Time and again the witness repeated his statement and It never varied. Suddenly Mason, pointing his finger straight at the witness, said In his high, Impassioned voice: "Let's see that paper you've got in your waistcoat pocket." Taken completely by surprise, the witness mechanically drew . a paper from the pocket Indicated and handed It to Mason. The lawyer slowly read the exact words of the witness md called attention to the fact that they were in the handwriting of the 'awyer on the other side. "Mason, how under the sun did you know that paper was there?" asked a brother lawyer. "Well." replied Mason, "I thought he <rave that part of his testimony Just as If he'd heard It, and I noticed every time he repeated It he put his hand to Ms waistcoat pocket and then let It fall again when he got through." It Is a startling fact that perjury In \merlcan. courts Is on the Increase. Francis L. Wellman of the New York bar. In a book on "The Act of Cross Examination," declares that at the present time scarcely a trial is contacted In which It does not appear in a more or less flagrant form. It seldom happens that a witness' entire testimony Is false from beginning to end. Perhaps the greatest part of It is true, and that only the crucial part?the point, however, on which the whole case may turn?Is wilfully false. Then again there Is the witness who is deliberately lying to shield himself from the consequences of his own crime. This Is the ugliest form of perjury. There Is one great historic case of the exposure of this form of perjury, and the lawyer who exposed It was none other than Abraham Lincoln ?In the days when he was only a struggling young lawyer, tall, gaunt, and uncouth. The story Is related Im Judge J. W. Dunovan's "Tact in Court," onrt in Houhlv interesting because it was Abraham Lincoln's first effort to defend a man accused of murder. A man named Grayson was accused of killing. a roan named Lockwood at a campmeetlng. A man named Bovine claimed to have witnessed the murder. Sovlne's story was so circumstantial that Grayson was indicted and narrowly escaped being lynched. Abraham Lincoln was employed by Grayson's mother to defend her son. The case came to trial. He cross examined none of the witnesses, save the last?the man Sovine, who swore that he lyiew the parties, saw Grayson fire the fatal shot, and saw him run away. The evidence of guilt and identity was morally certain. When Sovine was turned over to him for cross examination Lincoln stood up and eyed the witness In silence, without books or notesk and began the defense by these questions: "And you were with Lockwood Just before and saw the shooting?" "Yes." "And you stood very near to them?" "No! about twenty feet away." "May it not have been ten feet?" fNO, II. wua iwciu/ icci, ui uiv<v. "In the open field?" "In the open field?* "No; In the timber." "What kind of timber?" "Beech timber." "LeaVea on It are rather thick In August?" "Rather." "And you think this pistol was the one used?" "It looks like It." "You could see the defendant shoot ?see how the barrel hung;, and all about It?" "Yes." "How near was this to the campmeeting?' "Three-quarters of a mile away." "Where were the lights?' "Up by the minister's stand." "Three-quarters of a mile away?" "Yes?I answered ye twict." "Did you not see a candle there with Lockwood or Grayson?" "No. What would we want a candle for?" "How, then, did you see the shooting?" "By moonlight!" (defiantly). "You saw this shooting at 10 o'clock at night?In beech timber, three-quarters of a mile from the lights?saw the pistol barrel?saw the man fire? saw it twenty feet away?saw It all by moonlight? Saw It nearly a mile from the camp lights?" "Yes, I told you so before." Then Abraham Lincoln drew from the side pocket of his coat a blue covered almanac, opened It slowly, offered It in evidence, showed It to the Jury and the court, read from a page with careful deliberation that the moon on that night was unseen, and only arose at 1 o'clock the next morning. Following the climax, Lincoln moved the arrest of the perjury witness as the real murderer, declaring that nothing but a motive to clear himself could have induced him to swear away so falsely the life of another man. Sovine afterwards confessed to the murder. There have been Instances In which men high In the medical profession have been caught In the act of giving expert testimony by a lawyer who knew how to conduct a clever cross examination. One Instance of perjured medical expert testimony was a doctor who had been the medical expert for the New York, New Haven and Hartford railroad for thirty-five years, for the New York Central railroad for twenty years, and for the Erie railroad fifteen years. He was so expert that lawyers Anally became afraid to cross examine him. There was one lawyer, however, who was not afraid. The case was one in which a woman had sued the city for S60.000 damages, claiming she had been permanently injured by tripping over a street obstruction. Her counsel was ex-Chief Justice Noah Davis. Dr. Ranney, the famous expert, had been in daily attendance upon the woman for three years and testlAed he had examined her minutely 200 times. The city's medical experts declared the woman was only hysterical, but the Jury evidently believed Dr. Ranney. The cross examination was as follows: Counsel (quietly)?"Are you ah'e to give us, doctor, the name of an> .iedical authority that agrees with you when you say that the particular group of symptoms existing in this case points to one disease and only one?" Doctor?"O, yes. Dr. Ersklne agrees with me." "Who is 9r- Ersklne. if you please?" "Well," said the witness, with a patronising smile, "Ersklne probably was I one of the most famous surgeons that England has ever produced." There was a titter In the audience at the expense of the lawyer. "What book has he written?* "He has written a book called 'Erskine on the Spine,' which is altogether the best known work on the subject" The titter around the courtroom was becoming louder. "When was the book published?" asked the lawyer, quietly. "About ten years ago." "Well, how is it that a man whose lime is so much occupied as you have told us yours is has leisure enough to look up medical authorities to. see if they agree with him?" "Well, Mr."?. to tell you the truth," said the doctor, fairly beaming on the lawyer, "I have often heard of you, and I half suspected you would ask me some such foolish question; so this morning, after my breakfast, I took down from my library my copy of Erskine's book, and found that he agreed with?me entirely." This anajrer provoked a loud laugh at the expense of the lawyer. But the lawyer reached under the table and picked up hia own copy" of "Erskine on the Spine," and, walking deliberately up to the witness, said: "Won't you be good enough to point out to me where Erskine adopts your view of the case?" The famous doctor was visibly embarrassed. ? "O, I can't do it now; it's a thick book," he said. "But you forget, doctor, that thinking I might ask you some such foolish question you ay am in ed your volume of Erskiqe this morning after breakfast and before coming to court." The doctor showed his embarrassment plainly. Refusing to take the book, he said: "I have not time to do it now." "Time!" thundered the lawyer. "Why, there is all the time in the world." ine uociur gave 111/ aiisno. "I am aure the court will allow me to suspend my examination until you shall have had time to turn to the place you read this morning in that book, and can reread it aloud to the Jury." There was absolute silence in the court room for three minutes. The doctor wouldn't say anything, and the lawyer for the city didn't want to say anything. He saw that he had caught the famous witness in a manifest falsehood and that the doctor's whole testimony was discredited. After a few minutes more of this distressing silence Presiding Judge Mr. Justice Barrett dismissed the witness and the whole case collapsed. ?Jonas Howard in Chicago Tribune. Reward or Perseverance.?"Once there was a long, slim, lantern Jawed customer that used to come to my place once a day to get a 6 or 10 cent lunch," the retired restaurant man was saying, "and after he had paid for it he always took a match, put it in his pocket, and went out. I used to wonder what he did It for, as they were of no account to him. They wouldn't light anywhere but on the box. Safety matches, you know. One day, after he'd been doing It for about six months, I thought I'd surprise him. Just before he'd finished his feed I took all the matches out of the box and slipped them In a drawer. A minute later he came around to the cashier's desk, handed over his dime and reached for a match as usual. There wasn't any. His face lighted up qulcker'n you could say scat! "'Hello!' he said. 'You don't need this empty box, do you?' " 'No, 1 guess not,' I said. v " 'Well,' Bays he, 'I'll Just take It, If you don't mind.' " 'Take it along,' I says. 'I reckon you've earned it' "Think of It, gentleman. The durned old tightwad had about 200 safety matches laid away somewhere, waiting for a chance to get a box he could light them on. Now he'd got the box. and the outfit' hadn't cost him a cent. Some men are too mean to live!"? Chicago Tribune. Doo Cams Home 250 Miles.?There was revealed a remarkable example of canine Instinct and memory In Plalnfield, N. J., through the return of a dachshund to the home of Mrs. A. M. McKee, In Westervelt avenue, after an absence of three years. Mrs. McKee went to Glens Fall In 1901 and left the dog there. A few days ago, In Plalnfield, a dog trotted up to her and grew frantic after gazing at her an instant. It was thin and hungry owl lOOKing, uui rctugiiiiouic cw u>e iw.i mal she had left behind three years before. From Glens Fall she learned that the dog had run away several weeks ago and had been seen to cross the Poughkeepsle bridge. It had to cross the Hudson again to get to Plalnileld, beside traveling nearly two hundred and fifty miles. How it got over the stream is a mystery. Mrs. McKee also found that the animal went first to the house where she formerly lived and that the present occupants had driven it away. cause it is necessary to have some excuse. 'tsr in some parts of this glorious land of the free weddings are almost as numerous as divorces. 4 PER80NAL INJURY QRAFTER8. A Railroad Detective's Work In Damaga Suits. The chief detective of a greai. Southem railway system had adjourned to the smoking compartment of the Pullman for a final cigar before he climbed Into hie upper berth. He had Just finished a Job of clever sleuthing and was in a talkative mood, which quickly brought the half dosen other umokers to attention. '1 suppose in the beginning I was supplied with as much confidence In human nature as the average man," he began, as he settled back Into the cushions and put his feet on a chair, UUl Blier I^IIUIIII inmi/ /cuia finding out just bow much tte truth Is stretched every time somebody sues the company for damages for personal injuries there Isn't much left of tt_.. "I hadn't been wearing railroad gumshoes very long before I was turned loose on a case where a sixteen year old boy wanted $100,000 damages because he was deaf and dumb as the result of a yailroad wreck. "I worked on the case for two years, during which time the suit was postponed from one term of court to another, untl| finally It had fo be tried. The sum total of all my knowledge was that the boy hadn't spoken nor apparently heard a word for two years* "On the morning of the trial I advised the company's lawyers to settle for $25,000, which they offered to do. The plaintiff's covnsel refused the offer, so the case was called. "The evidence was so completely one-sided that the case would certainly have been finished and gonn to the Jury before night, but at noon I had an Idea. I thought that if we aad one more day something might turn up to us. I conferred with the company's lawyer, and at at>out the hour when the case was ready for the jury our leading attorney was taken suddenly HI. The judge had no alternative but to adjourn court until the next day. "That night I went to the plaintiff's counsel and explained that ** were ready to settle but wanted to make a physical examination of the b>y first. He bad no objections, so we rented a room In the local hospital and took the hoy there. "We put him upon an operating table around which were gathered four white coated, white whiskered men, altered to be eminent surgeons, but in reality the company1* lawyer* "After baring the youth'* boeom over the heart, the chief surgeon grabbed an ugly looking knll'e, and solemnly said: " 'Brethren, there is Just about one chance in a hundred that the patient will survive this operation, yur* you willing to take the chance? "'We are,' arswered the others. "The words were hardly spoken before the boy let cut a j U, and cried, 'For Qod's sake, don't kill me.' "Then he snapped his Jaws together and oecame dumb again, but the few word? he had said ware might? costly for him, for his laywers immediately threw up the sponge and asked for the dismissal of the case the next morning.'* Then the detective relighted his cigar, and remarked that he always bad more trouble getting the truth out of a woman than a man. "A few years aj(o a Buffalo woman, who was known to us as a member of a fake injury syndicate, put in a claim for $50,000 against us for alleged paralyse of all her limbs," continued the detective. "She pretended that her spine had been Jerked out of kilter in a little one horse wreck down In Tennessee. "I was positive that the woman was as sound as a dollar, but I couldn't prove It. So I ha I to move to Buffalo and camp on her trail. Finally I managed to strike up an acquaintance with njnmnn wlfin was On VCrv Intl mate terms with the supposed paralyzed one. "I professed to be a member of a band of personal Injury grafters out In Chicago, of whom she knew something, and I such an extensive knowledge of the gang that she believed me. Of course, she wanted me to meet her friend the paralytic the first thing, and I was for It stront:. "She gave me a very effusive letter of Introduction, and I started out on the warpath. When I found the woman I wanted, she was propped up in bed, and was certainly doing the helpless act to perfection. When I sprung the letter she wanned up, and we were soon merrily discussing our experiences in taking various kinds of falls out of railroad treasuries. "When I arose to go I suggested that v her friends in Chicago might like to read a little note from her, which I would be pleased to deliver within a couple of days. Never suspecting for a moment, she hopped jauntily out of bed and dashed off a few lines in no time. "Then J sprung my detective's badge on her and she suddenly became the most active woman I ever say. She made a break for a gun, but I pulled first, and had her in a cell in less than an hour. "She was arrested not long ago in Chicago for trying to flim-flam another railroad."?New York Sim. Sympathy.?Sympathy is food to a starving heart. Sympathy is two hearts pulling at one load. Sympathy is the staff on which trouble leans. Sympathy is the cream that rises on the milk of human kindness. *' Svmnathv in sorrow's hour is like the gentle rain to drooping flowers. Sympathy is the least the rich may give, the most the poor can offer. Sympathy Is the blossom grown from the costly bulb called personal suffering. Sympathy Is a well toned Instrument that readily responds to notes of weal or woe. Sympathy Is the most powerful human magnet for attracting and holding: friendship. Sympathy Is perfect forgetfulnesa of oneself In true feeling for the unhapplness of others. Sympathy Is love's healing balm spread by pity's tender hand on sorrow's .leart wound. W Many a married man believes In the control of one mind over another. 'Or An old bachelor says there are no marriages in heaven because It Is heaver.. j *Lr" ?' ' '-J5 Q