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"J ^ IS?13rKl>3 ?KMI-WBCE1KI,^\ i. m. grists sons, Pubii.her., } % Jfamilg Jjeiosgager: <Jfor the promotion of the golitieat, Social. Agricultural and iommeiitial Interests of the jpeople. } teb"moLe"^pVfivI c*?mVA!ICI!' ESTABLISHED 1855. __ YORKVILLE7S. C., TUE8DAY, AUGU8T 6, 1907." , . . ... . ISTO.~63. 1 1 ? I ?_ ?- * ui- ? J..<? ? -?J r?A?. MVCmt! r By ETTA chapter xxvii. ja "Unstable as Water." L l. in l? ..,.^,.,1 Vvp n <1 he I. "An i uu; i<xU511CU vjin T ? ? stepped suddenly Into view from be- t ^ hind the shrubbery of the terrace, "I a startled you, eh? You thought I was j a road-agent? A little Joke, my dear v Uncle Gilbert, nothing more, I assure j you. Why, how very pale you are! ? ^ a perfect spectre, in fact!" Cyril Vye had never been nearer p death than he was at that moment. Murder, pure and simple, looked out ? of the cattleman's eyes, as he turned upon his nephew. He seemed about to leap at his throat; but Shlrlaw made b an Involuntary movement to step between them, and by some supreme ef- (| fort the older Vye' recovered his composure. p "It Is not always safe to startle a man In that way, nephew!" he said, with a ghastly smile. "It would serve h you right to give you a wholesome p choking for your Impertinence. "Ah!" w mockingly, "here comes the head of our ^ old and honorable house," as the figure e of Philip Vye appeared In the walk be- ^ low. "If you will come down Into the garden. Captain Shlrlaw, beyond reach of further Interruption, we will con- .. tlnue our conversation." n "Not toijlght," answered Shlrlaw, wildly: "pray excuse me!" I, And waiting for nothing more, he n sDrang down the terrace and rushed w of? to the river. g He came upon Abel Llspenard In the garden of faded lilies?poor Lilian's j, garden. The dwarf was pacing back j, and forth there In the dubious light, n his hat pulled over his eyes, his chin n upon his breast. s "Stop a minute, Llspenard," cried a Shlrlaw, breathlessly; "I have some- ^ thing to tell you." o ^ Llspenard paused. "I cannot lift myself to your height, r Victor, so you must bend down to t( mine," he said. n Shlrlaw did so, and was startled by the look on the other's face. e "By Jove! what has gone wrong with n you. old chap?" j "I have tonight received tidings of p ^ that man?my sister's destroyer." n "The deuce!" "He Is?but never mind. Your hand h shakes, Victor. You have something ^ to tell me; what Is It? Speak out." t And out he did speak?told his story, j. ' wildly, hurriedly. j, "I saw the resemblance on the very v night of his arrival at Rookwood," he groaned. "I tried tc fight away the horrible suspicions; I tried to believe ^ that I was laboring under an hullucl- ^ nation, that I had lost my wits?anything, everything, rather than the .. truth! Now, In God's name, Lispen- a ard, tell me, what am I to do?" v f Llspenard stood like a stone. His e * face has assumed strange, rigid lines. A "Will you denounce him?" he an- g swered, harshly. "No, I shall leave that to his rela- v tives. Cyril Vye knows as well as I do p ^ that his uncle, the cattle king, is no other than Black Dave, the western g outlaw and road-agent: Ana tym means mischief?yes, nothing less than s the destruction of the man!" s "But Mlgnon," cried Llspenard, Impatiently: "you do not say anything about Mlgnon! How does this dlscov- ^ ery affect your love for her?" t ^ Shlrlaw changed color. r "Heaven above! Llspenard, why ask s such a question? Would you have me marry the daughter of a thief and cut- ^ throat? Would you, in my place, do s It*" u. 0 "In your place, I would marry Mlg- j non Vye If her father were the prince j( of the bottomless pit!" panted Llspen- s ard. r "Impossible! I cannot!" said Shlrlaw, with a shudder. "My mother, my sis- ^ ters? shall I show them no consider- ^ atlon? Would you have me bringdls- j, grace and shame upon them? That c man urged me tonight to marry Mlg- r non Immediately. He knows that ex- j posure is near; he comprehends, I t think, something of his own danger. ( Poor, lovely Mlgnon! I pity her with , al! my heart: but you expect too much , m of me, Llspenard. What! Take, with wide-open eyes, that man for my fath- ^ er-in-law? Faugh! I swear I was scarcely able to contain myself, as I j stood with him over at Rookwood Just f now, and recalled the encounter on the t Southern Pacific road, when I first saw , the scoundrel with his gang of desper- ( adoes." Llspenard's gaze seemed to be turned inward. . "God pity that girl!" he groaned. | + "Her father is her Idol. How will she r bear this? how can she bear it?" "Don't ask me, Lispenard; you will ( drive me mad!" f "She Is all that Is desirable In woman. She Is as Innocent of her father's ^ iniquities as an angel of light; but I see how it is, Victor; your love is not equal to the trial. What do I say, boy? You do not know what love Is?" "Do I not?" said Shlrlaw, setting his ( teeth; "I think I do?to my sorrow!" t Lispenard made a step nearer to his .< kinsman. t ^ "Ah!" he cried, sternly: "It Is that girl Esther!" i Shirlaw winced, as though a hand t had touched some unhealed wound, ] but his lips were dumb. 1 m "I have not been wholly blind In the j " last few weeks." said Lispenard, "my l poor fickle, unstable Victor! But she, i too, is the daughter of Gilbert Vye? i as near to him as Mlgnon. and equal- { ly shadowed by his guilt." I "She cared nothing for me, Lispen- ] ard." "I rejoice to hear that." dryly- "I < know not whether to pity or condemn i ^ you, Victor. You have, Indeed, been j most unrortunaie tn your loves. 1 With a distracted air, Shirlaw drew < out his watch. i "Pity me, old fellow; don't condemn 1 me! Doubtless I suffer as keenly as more worthy men. I must take the < next train to town. My presence here I will only precipitate matters, since I s act upon Cyril Vye like a red rag upon ( i or CMK r. PIERCE i bull. Moreover, there Is a limit t .11 things, and I can never again prac Ice dissimulation to the extent o reating Gilbert Vye as though he wer ,n honest man. My blood bolls whei think of him here, mingling freel; irlth these aristocratic Dale people. S< must go." "Without explanations of any kind? "How dare I?how can I make ex ilanations, Lispenard?" Lispenard stared blankly into th< ray night "It is a bad business," he muttered a most distracting and compllcate< usiness!" "True, and you mur.t help me out o t, old chap." The dwarfs pale, bitter face flushe< ainfully. "I!" "Somebody at some future date, wil ave to tell Mignon. You must be tha erson. You love me, you know. Yoi rill not be too hard upon your un jcky kinsman. If there is a shadow o xcuse for me in what I have done ou will give me the full benefit of it.' Lispenard drew his breath sharply. "Let us go up to the house," he said Jarvis has Just brought in the eveninj tail." They went In silence. Two letter ad arrived for Shlrlaw?one from hi! lother, the other an official documen ;hich he tore open and devoured ea erly. "I am ordered to rejoin my comman< nmediately!" he cried, in a tone o lflnite relief. "Was ever anythlnf tore fortunate? I have Just time t< lake a flying visit to my mother anc Isters, and then, oh! for the frontiei gain! I hope to Heaven I shall som< ay have the pleasure of encounterint ur soi-disant cattle king there!" "Do not tempt Fate by rash wishes,' eplled Lispenard, gloomily. "Far bet er that you should never see hin lore." Vila aK n IS t'llttllt'CS Ui 1CIUI1U115 IV 1110 va xploits are small, unless he cai lanage to propitiate his nephew. B: ove! It is shameful that he shouh eturn, to resume his nefarious busi ess, is it not?" Ltspenard made no reply. In sileno e watched Shirlaw's preparations fo lurried departure. Why should he de ain him? He no longer loved Mignor le could neither assist nor comfort he 1 the approaching crisis. Verily, i ras better that he should go. Over the river, at Rookwood, Phill) rye and his son were standing alon ieside the library fire. "My dear father," said Cyril, grlmlj long ago, when you told that stor; bout Martin, did you think I had no kit enough to put one and two togeth r, and see through the whole affair Lccording to tradition, we have ha< reat men in our family. It remainei or us to produce a scoundrel, alsc rhose career, thus far, has been un recedented." The thin, gray face of the elder mai xew grayer yet. "In Heaven's name, Cyril, keep you usplclons to yourself! For Mignon' ake, say nothing, even to me!" He laughed, wickedly. "For Mignon's sake! Oh, but I ow ler one, you know! It is really quit 00 gratifying to think of her in con lection with this business! At last hall have my revenge!" "He Is your uncle and my brotherle Is our guest. Whatever we ma; uspect, we have no positive knowlelg if anything wrong. Your revenge Consense! You talk like a stage vil ain. Well-bred people do not mentioi uch things nowadays. What do yoi nean to do?" "Let me ask the same question, m lear father. What do you mean t lo? Allow Gilbert Vye to return t lis old haunts and resume the nam ?f Black Dave, and the occupation c obblng. murdering and train-wreck ng? Will you be his accomplice t hat extent. Ah, you wince! True, h s your brother; but I hate him non he less for that. Mignon's father wi ecelve no mercy at my hands." "Cyril, the family honor of all th /yes, living and dead, is at stake!" "Family honor be hanged, as it sure y must De. some uay, in tne perso >f my Uncle Gilbert! I swear to yo bat no consideration of that sort sha empt me to spare either him or hi laughter." A faint sobbing cry startled the tw nen. Both turned quickly, and sai hat the library-door had been noise essly opened. On its threshold a wo nan was standing, frozen with horrc ?a woman whose bloodless face an iilatlng eyes betrayed that she ha verheard all. It was Elinor Vye. CHAPTER XXVIII. A Pair of Spurs. Abel Lispenard went to a windoi jpening on the river, and looked acros he gloomy current to the old manslo standing so stately on the opposit >ank. Shirlaw had gone without one part ng word to his betrothed?gone neve :o return. Now, what could he, Ab< Lispenard, do to help Mignon?to sav ner from the vile plots of her cousii ind the tempest that was ready t nreak over her golden head? He wa In soul of integrity and honor. N man could regard crime with greaU ibhorrence. or visit sterner censure o the criminal, and yet, at this momen Lispenard was not thinking of Gllbei Vye. his two-fold life, and his outrage >us deeds perpetrated under otht names, but only of Mignon?Mignoi it the mercy of Cyril Vye?Mignoi mieny ignorant ur tne true enaracu >f her f tther, alone, defenseless, dt <erted by her lover?how?how coul fie help Mlgnon? He started at last, shook his hug ihoulders, hesitated: then went straigl to a cabinet of teak wood in a corne md took out?what? A pair of an tique gold spurs. These he sealed I a tiny box; then stepped forward and I rang the bell. "Jarvis," said Abel Lispenard, quietI ly, "can I trust you?" "I think you can, sir," answered the man. "Then go immediately to Rookwood, and give this, privately, to Gilbert Vye ?remember, prl.'ately?" "Yes, sir." "And keep your eyes open, in case you see anybody, or anything that seems strange to you over yonder, and report in full to me." "That I will, sir." Jarvis departed on his errand. He o was gone exactly an hour by the clock. - Lispenard paced the room and waited, f By-and-by he heard the man's step e outside. Jarvis entered, with an imn Dortant air. y "I saw him, sir!" 0 Llspenard motioned for him to close the door. "Tel! me everything!" he command- ; - ed. "Well, sir," said Jarvls, "when I e reached Rookwood, Mr. Gilbert Vye was just coming out of the stable? : going on one of his long rides. I went 1 up to him and says I: ( " 'Wait a bit. sir, here's something f for you.' *T gave him the box. He struck a i match, tore off the cover and turned ( pale?pale as a spook?the luclferwas flaring on his face and I could see It 1 plain." t "Who sent this?' says he. x " 'My master, Mr. Lispenard,' says I. "'Ah!' says he, drawing his breath | f hard, then he put a hand in his pocket t, and gave me this, sir." ' Jarvls showed a five-dollar bank- ] note. A shudder shook Abel Lispen. ard's square figure. He pointed straight ] I to the fire burning under the tall man- , tel. 3 "Throw it there, Jarvls!" I 3 Jarvls obeyed, meekly. A little spurt | t of flame and he resumed his narrative, j "He slipped from his saddle, sir. He seemed scared, or bewildered, or some- ] i thing." f ' 'I'll go up to the house,' 1 neara j him mutter, 'and bid Mlgnon good-by!' ) "Well, he started for the house and ( i I with him, for you told me to look , r after anything that might be strange ] i at Rookwood. Well, sir, we hadn't r gone far, when we both saw some tall, , black shapes moving along the terrace " ?two men, sir, and then a door flew ] . open, letting out a streak of light, and ( i Mr. Cyril Vye ran down the steps to meet the pair, j "'Ha! Here you are, sheriff! I j ! heard him say, In a guarded voice? V Mr. Gilbert and I had stopped short in 3 the shelter of the shrubbery. 'So my , . telegrams found you?' says he. 'The one I sent from New York this morn- , e Ing was explicit enough, was It not? I ( r should have requested you to meet me , _ in Boston on the arrival of the train, ( u but there was a lady In the way, who r might have made an awkward scene.'" t "Is he likely to give us the slip?" , says the person who had been called , sheriff. p " 'More than likely," answered Mr. e Cyril. "If once he suspects mischief. Speed is the one thing necessary In ^ this case. First of all, you had better y set a watch at the station." I " 'We have done that already,' says . . the man. ? "Then they seemed to stand and 3 whisper together, after which they J 3 went softly Into the house. I turned , t;> look for Gilbert Vye, but he had dis. appeared, sir?I didn't see him again. I went back to the landing-place, but P my boat was gone, too, and I had to walk round by the bridge. Yet the r skiff is now down at the Jetty, moored s all right. How it got there I am sure I don't know, sir." "You may go, Jarvls," said Llspene ard, as the servant finished his story. e Jarvis went his way. His master ----J ' .Ul V,n ,1 1 _ SUMJU POIIUCMIIK llir llllliKa i?c Iiau j heard. Officers of the law at Rookwood! _ A watch already set at the railway stay tion, and perhaps at other avenues of e escape, also! Cyril Vye had lost no * time. He had determined on the ut. ter destruction of his uncle. Family ! n considerations were of no Importance u to him now. It was plain that he would stop at nothing. How long would Migy non remain in ignorance of all that 0 was passing about her? 0 Abel Lispenard could not rest?he e could scarcely breathe. The night seemed charged with dynamite. An explosion was close at hand. He won0 dered what the dwellers of the Dale e would say when the real character of e the man whom they had feted and adII mired was made known to them. At last he seized his hat and went e down into his dark, still garden, followed by a long-nosed Llvonlan hound. _ The hour was growing late, but there n was no rest for Lispenard tonight. He u seemed raked up In red-hot coals. II He stood on the stone Jetty. Yes, at s his feet lay Jarvls's skiff, safely moored. Lispenard knew well enough who 0 had appropriated the craft and left his v servant to walk round by the bridge. He looked across the current at Rookwood. All there was silent as death, >r but once or twice he saw a little point d of red light flash out, like a star, In d the shrubbery along the river side, gleam for an instant, and then vanish. Scouts were at work, surely. The river made a bend not far from the jetty. As he gazed down stream, Lispenard fancied he could distinguish, t.? *i'o tore onm'a t ho niltllno iv of a boat lying close In to the shelterts ing bank. n For a long time he stood waiting for ;e he knew not what. The night was very quiet. Only the wind sighed In the tree-tops over his head. He was >r just turning to go back to the house el when the hound at his side began to e bark. 1, "Be still, Cossack!" commanded LIso penard. grasping the brute by the colis lar. o At the same moment, out from the ;r nearest clump of trees a figure moved, n and stood directly in his way. t, "You did not send me the spurs in rt time, Mr. Llspe'nard," said Gilbert Vye. (- "Now help me, or I am lost!" ;r Had it come to this? Was he, Abel n. Lispenard, to furnish aid to this man? n. He looked at him steadily. He was >r ashen-gray, and quaking like a leaf. >- He seemed half ashamed of his apd pearance, for he made haste to say, in a hoarse, broken voice: ;e "All men have their weak moments, it Mine has come at last! I have never r, been a coward till tonight; but now? i- now I can feel a tightening here!" 11 grasping his throat convulsively. It was fear, then, that made him 1 tremble. This bold desperado had turned coward at sight of his kindred arrayed against him. No foes so pitiless none so much to be dreaded, as those of a man's own household! Abel j Llspenard recoiled from the so-called cattleman with a haughty, forbidding gesture. , "What would you have me do?" he an Id atnmlv. "That d<>g Cyril Is resolved to run ^ me down." gasped Gilbert Vye; "he's blocked my way to the station. I started down the river In your servant's boat; but I found another craft watching yonder. They hailed me, and I put back to your landing place. He's hemmed me In, you see. Hide me, ^ or I must hang." ^ Heaven knew that he deserved hang- ~ ing over and over again. With loathing unspeakable, Abel Lispenard surveyed the man; then he turned, and again looked across the river to Rook- ( wood. A tempest of passion shook him like a reed. . "Follow me!" he said, sharply, hurriedly. Abel Lispenard plunged into a path dark with trees, passed Lilian's grar- ,, den. crossed a lawn, and avoiding the main entrance of the house, came to a J g side door, which was locked. He drew J a key from his pocket, and leaving the dog Cossack outside as a sentinel, ( he darted Into the house, and Gilbert Vye with him. r "What I do is not for your sake, but for your daughter's," he said. "My a servants must not see us. For your ^ life make no sound!" He snatched a silver lamp from the - " ?- . I 8 nana 01 a ngure in urunze nuti biwu ^ Just inside the door, and with more ^ rapidity than might have been expect- c sd from his short legs, mounted a j tufted stair, entered a handsome cor- ^ ridor, and at last paused, with the fugritlve, before that holiest of holies, the long-closed rooms of Lilian Lispenard. Was there no struggle in his heart as ^ he unlocked that sacred door? Ah, r verily! But he went in, and Gilbert v Vye after him. "Shelter me, Mr. Lispenard." said the a outlaw, "till the hue and cry at Rook- o wood Is over, and I will give you no further trouble." li "If I do that," answered Lispenard, g sternly, as he put the silver lamp down a on the table, and turned to the hunted, j haggard man, the degenerate son of 0 an ancient race, pursued now by his e own kin, you must swear by every- e thing you hold dear to quit your old ^ life; to abandon, from this hour, both |( the name and the character of Black Dave: to repent of your past misdeeds, r and become again an honest man." o Over the back of a chair in the cen- t tre of the floor trailed a priceless In- }i dian shawl. Gilbert Vye stumbled r blindly in its rich folds, then recovered himself, and smiled down at the 0 dwarf In a ghastly way. t "My dear sir, you think, doubtless, ( that you are asking an easy thing. a However, I have no choice. Yes, I will ^ swear to do all that, and as much more as you please!" fc "Understand me!" said Lispenard; "I t know your crimes, Gilbert Vye, and I o abhor them! You Justly deserve the fate that threatens you. Nevertheless, ^ I give you my word that you are safe v here, that I will do my utmost to save you from your nephew, not that I feel t the slightest sympathy for you, not p that I wish to shield you from punish- c ment; but solely for the sake of an- ^ other person, who will suffer if you receive your Just deserts." t Uo went Gilbert Vye's shoulders. ? "Greatly obliged, Mr. Llspenard, I'm f sure! You have me at an Immense 2 disadvantage just now, so I shall take f care not to be angry with you. It Is s plain that I made a bad move when I j came east. How unfortunate, too, that my daughter's lover should possess so good a memory! I hope to Heaven he fl will not know that I am hiding here!" 3 "Captain Shlrlaw has left the Dale," v answered Llspenard, shortly. * "Ha!" 1 "And this room Is never visited by a any member of my household?I alone 1 have the key to it." h "Good." v In a sort of stem wonder, not un- I mixed with positive aversion, Lispen- s ard recoiled from his guest. J "You are by birth a Vye," he said, f "and by breeding a gentleman. How t could you fall so low!?how could you d become the creature you now are?" t "It Is a long story," answered Gil- a bert Vye, with perfect indifference. "I t had lost everything, and necessity I knows no law. It was Imperative that I should have money, so I took It, sans 1 ceremonie. Remember, I had two 0 young daughters to provide for, and, p 'pon my soul! I meant to give up the f business when they should be set- v tied in life, and return east and become c the most respectable of all the respect- t able Vyes. But my plans have mis- s carried." His eyes fell suddenly on the \ wonderful portrait of Lilian Lispen- t ard hanging above him on the wall, v Hp snatched up the silver lamp that a he might examine It closer. "Heaven r above! what a strange resemblance!" r he muttered. "Do you not see It," turn- s Incr uhotmlv vtiiviitlnlmiQl v nn T^ISD6n- fl ard. g "Resemblance?to whom?" demanded 1' Lispenard. "Look for yourself. You are blind! ?you cannot recall the person who has a face like this? Then, perhaps, I V had better not mention her!" putting the light coolly back upon the table. Abel Lispenard could bear no more. t The boudoir of his idolized, Ill-fated ^ sister changed to the hiding-place of a f robber and murderer?It was too much! t He went out quickly, locked the door behind him, put the key In his pocket ( and descended to the lower portion of ^ the house. t He sat down to the piano In his luxurlous music-room, and struck a few v chords. In the midst of Donizetti's ^ sweetest music, and played as only this t frogman could play, steps crossed the terrace without. Cossack gave a warning bark, and a sharp ring at the bell ^ followed. He knew who his visitors were? knew their errand, but he went on playing brilliantly, breathlessly, ab- _ sorbed, apparently, In his music. Pres- ^ ently a footman opened the door. ^ "A gentleman to see you, sir," he s announced, and then Abel Llspenard turned and saw Cyril Vye, with his ^ eye-glass screwed In his eye, standing1, like a smiling Mephlstopheles, on the threshold of the music room. (To be Continued), c piscettenrow parting. f" STORIES OF SENATOR PETTUS. Romance of Hia Love For a Neighbor's W Daughter?Other Incidents. t( Many entertaining: anecdotes are jr old of Senator Pettus. He told this ,j >ne of himself: C When I was a boy down in Ala- 0j >ama the hunting and Ashing were ^ itill prime and I was very fond of my od, my dog and my gun?much fond- C( ir of them than of my books. I didn't c, Ike going to school and played hook- 33 ty frequently to go fishing or hunting. Vhen I was about 17 I fell deeply In c' ove with the daughter of a neighbor. )ne day I went to her house and ound her on the gallery watering lolets. Her sunbonnet was hanging iy Its strings down her back, the sunIght fell on her pretty face and shlnng hair and she looked very lovely. In stood and looked up at her and I m ust couldn't help plumbing right out m he question, 'Mary,' I said, 'will you ro narry me?' 01 " 'You go 'long,* she answered, vc Who'd marry anyone as ignorant as as ou are? You won't go to school, but Ir pend all your time hunting and fish- dt ng.' to "I was ashamed and heartbroken," la ho senator continued, "and I answerid not a word. I knew Mary was hs Ight. I didn't miss another day from vl chool that term and the next fall I th rent away to Clinton college, up In M 'ennessee, where I spent four years, ta ill this time I kept away from my tv weetheart. But when I returned In rom college I knew a little Greek and th ^atln and other things and this en- W ouraged me.to go to see Mary again, al found her again on the gallery and to stood as I stood before, looking up cc .t her from the ground. 'Mary,' I ht aid, 'I've been to school and I'm not hi .? ignorant as i useu to De. wen, w ilary didn't just say she would marry be ne, but I knew it was all right. We of yere married the next year." th They lived together In the greatest th JTectlon and happiness until the death er if Mrs. Pettus less than a year ago. pi After the war he and another young he awyer settled down to practice law at in ielma. They were miserably poor and . fee of 1100 seemed like a fortune, ct Jut somehow Pettus' partner got hold bi 1 a very Important claim for a north- th rn concern and won it. They recelv- so d t>e tremendous fees of $15,000. !y Vhen Pettus got his share of It he w ooked ai the Immense sum of money th lubiously, -?nd remarked to his part- 111 ler, "Well, t?.'s will certainly keep us ro ut of the poorhouse, but what about a he penitentiary?" He couldn't make ta ilmself feel It was honest to make so dt nuch money In so short a time. th He was very fond of a quiet game co if poker. A few years ago he spent he summer at Tate Springs, Tenn. cc )ne day a friend met him walking th iway from the hotel, and asked him ro rhere he was going. tli "I'm going to that little white th tulldlng among the trees over there," th he senator answered, pointing to the h? nly gambling place in town. si "But, general," said his friend, "you m mow that place is run by two of the w vorst card sharps in Memphis." so "Yes, I know," grumbled the sena- co or, "but there Is no place else to w ilay." He would rather take the w hance of being cheated than forego w lis little game. ur As Indicating the friendship be- nc ween Morgan and Pettus, habitues of er he Capitol recall some remarks Mr. 'ettus made in the senate on January h? 3, this year, when the subject of the th iroposed increase In congressional ed alaries was under discussion. Mr. w lorgan was absent, and, referring to th ilm, Mr. Pettus said: "He began his education at the old in leld school. He has always been a se tudent from boyhood. I knew him wi i-hen he first became a lawyer, and I vs lave known him ever since. I have th Ived In the same village with him for of .bout sixty years. He commenced ht ire wunout anytning. rou an see in low hard he works here. He has at rorked that way all his life. When th le came to the senate his income was se omething In the neighborhood of b? H5.000 a year. He has been here now th or thirty years. Had he worked at fti he profession I have no doubt that w luring the time that he has been in so he senate his income would have been to it least $20,000 a year. He might T1 lave been a millionaire today if he pi lad stuck to his profession." ar Senator Pettus was universally be- er oved and respected by his colleagues in both sides of the chamber. A Re- ed tublican of great prominence and in- of luence said to a friend one day last is vinter, discussing the disinclination th if the senate to handle a certain mat- br er so as to gratify a strong Republican rli enator from a middle western state a vho is not liked by other senators, th hat if it had been Senator Pettus who vanted a favor done, the whole sen- ?> ite would have been more than glad to Cc nake any sacrifice In order to -accom- (jt nodate him. Pettus was not a great b? tatesman. as Morgan was, but was a ht Ine, genuine, honorable old Southern p? gentleman, whom to know was to yf ove. From Various Papers. er TOO GOOD TO LOSE. ?t th Vhy a Brave Man Saved the Life of ea Hie Enemy. hr In the little town of Midway, Ky., wo men lived at enmity, personal and ^ >olitlcal, so long that their feud was ne of the traditions of the town. Only 6S he intervention of friends had more 0(. han once prevented them from doing ach other bodily Injury. One day a ^ 'ear ago, says World's Work, one of af he men, Richard Dodson, was discov- . Is red at dusk lying senseless in his priar ate gas well, dying of suffocation, .. s'o one of the crowd that gathered at ^ he mouth of the well dared to risk ' ac ds life in an effort to save him. Then his enemy, Rufus K. Combs, . ame breathless to the spot. By the .. Ight of a lamp he looked down and | aw the body, face downward, in the ^ nud at the bottom of the well. Wlthmt hesitation, he slipped into the narow manhole, hung by his hands, and Iropped into the darkness and the uffocating fumes of the pit. He lifted the body of his enemy, .nd, by dogged effort, raised himself ^ o a foothold on a small tank inside . he well, and lifted the body above h lis head to the manhole. The crowd I aught Dodson's hands, pulled for a| * loment and lost their hold. The body HI back Into the mud. The rescuer's own breath was fall- Tl ig. He raised his head out of the lanhole long enough to All his lungs 1th air, and dropped again. gc Again he struggled with his burden hi > the tank and raised It to the open- Bi ig overhead. This time the crowd he rew the body out. Choking with gas. ut ombs clung desperately to the rim dl f the manhole until the crowd drew 1m up into the open air. dr Two hours later, when he recovered be )nsclousness. some one asked Mr. th ombs why he had risked his life to Lve his enemy. uf "I hated to see such a good fighter toke to death," he said. _ 11V STUDIES OF ROOT LIFE. th ureau of Plant Industry Carrying on a Valuable Work. bo Icl The experts of the bureau of plant ar dustry of the agricultural depart- _ ent are getting at the roots of the th atter. This Is literally true, for the CQ iot experiments with plants are the ta itcome of a study of the problems In- nfl >lved In wide and shallow planting, of i opposed to close, ordinary planting. ty i the former methods, a great root D( ivelopment would enable the farmer m do well with very little rain; in the sj tter, his reliance Is entirely-on rain, Experimenters have hitherto been indicapped by the absence of a de- j,f ce properly to study root growth, but ..j. is difficult has been overcome by A. kr . Ten Eyck, a member of the Dako- m , station^ Mr. Ten Eyck dug a trench w vo feet wide about a block of earth A] which were growing some plants, se le roots of which he desired to study. er rhen the block stood out quite clearly one he made a light wooden frame fit around It and covered this with immon wire poultry netting. This q( jld the earth In place and enabled e(J m to pierce It through with small tl, ire rods, which were then fastened at Wj >th ends to the netting. When enough T) ' these thin wire rods had been run m irough, to hold up the roots in case W| e earth was washed away, he cov- pj ed the top of the ground with a thin jv aster of Paris paste, which soon dried w )ldlng the plants he desired to exam- or e firmly about the base. The subsequent stages of this pro- q( ss, which has been adopted by the ot jreau experts, Involve the washing of e earth from about the roots with p( >tt, warm water, leaving: them whol- jj, exposed and suspended upon the tu Ires which had been forced througrh at ie earth. It becomes easy then to ar 't the cage, with Its plaster of Parts ur of, holding the desired plants, to such place as desired for study. Care Is n8 ken to dig the surrounding trench jn :ep enough in the beginning to avoid a ie possibility of the roots being still r{) nnected with the earth below. 0{ The root experimenters have met 8t msiderable difficulties. For one thing e(, ,e fine thread-like portions of the or >ots are destroyed at their extremi- er es by the warm water washing. The reads, however, at the points where nf iey ended, have been analyzed, and It er is been found that even at this early a age of the progress of the nourish- fj, ent upward, the grreat chemical ^ ork, the taking from the soil of lime, idium, nitrogen and the like had been fQ impleted by the tiny filament. Somehere, a little further on In the soil th hich had been washed away, the ca ork had been going on. It Is the fr, iderstanding of this process which is |y >w desired, and which is still appar- jn itly as far ofT as ever. to Nevertheless, some valuable results th ive already been attained. Naturally, te e Investigations so far have concern- ari I the plants most valuable to man? ne heat and corn, potatoes, beans and th e like. to "Roots" observed one of the bureau's tri vestigators, "seem to possess actual tie ntlence in regard to their search for ater. One of the Interesting and ex iluable results of this investigation is ne at now science can determine which ag the plants are deep feeding, and he nee which are most suitable to dry, a sufficiently watered soils. For in- ci ance, a species of wheat which had th e power to dig down six feet In Its iei arch frr food and moisture, would be th >tter adapted to the dry regions of |C] e west than one that could dig but ^ iur. There are certain species of bi heat which do splendidly In naturally ar >ft. sandy soils, but whose roots are Q( 0 weak to dig through heavy soils. t\> his cannot be determined by simply 3h jlllng up a stalk. It requires such ti 1 Investigation as this which the gov- m nment has inaugurated. m "Another thing which has been prov- ej I by the investigation of root devel- to iment Is why land laid down to grass 0f made better. It has long been known at when the wild prairie Is first pe oken the soil Is mellow, moist and as ch. producing abundant crops. After qj few years of continuous cultivation Cfl e physical condition of the soil langes. The soli grains become finer, hlch is bad; the soil becomes more ro mpact and heavier to handle; it ies out quicker than It used to; it ilks worse and often turns over In ird clods when ploughed. This comict texture makes It difficult for the jj. ung roots of plants to develop proply. It also causes an insufficient ou ipply of air In the soil and makes it ed Icky when wet, dusty when dry, so w at when loosened by the plough it Is islly blown away. This Is because re lacks roots of the right sort?stout, sfl irdy, deep reaching roots. ot "A little table of soil conditions Is j ing prepared for regions In which ^ + ' *?'lll r\t ese rooi mvcraugutiiJiis v?m piu?c P o peclal value?which will prove Inter- ( ting and suggestive, seeing that It j( ay be modified to suit almost any .01 glon. It contains the fact that an th ire of soil to the depth of one foot estimated to weigh 3,225,000 pounds id then tabulates the facts, namely, at within the first foot of soil there aa found: 6,722 pounds of phosphoric |jr Id, 32,897 pounds of potash, 47,407 cj) tunds of lime. Thus within the reach nearly every plant is found four nes this sum per acre, for nearly all ants reach four feet downward with eir roots. "It is figured out that this means ^ iough phosphoric acid to supply the ? . . . , fui ants or i,4uu annual wneai crops ana ^ the other constituents even more. ( ie relation of this to the root invesratlons lies in the fact that no root muld be deprived for lack of ample oughlng of free search among these lemicals for what it needs." _ Co y Pari3 eats 450,000,000 eggs yearly, on A MAN OF NERVE. he Remarkable Career of General D. J. Cook. "Whenever you hear that a man is i >lng to get you, go after him. Hunt i m up. If necessary get him first < ? ffanerollv whAn th? man la found. I s will not be ready. A talk and an iderstanding will remove causes of fflculty. i "Give a desperado no opportunity to aw a pistol. My motto has always i en: 'It Is better to kill two men an to have one kill you.'" < These two principles faithfully lived 1 > to through forty-five years of ac- < ve life on the frontier as a peace of- < :er were what made General David J. i >ok known and feared by "bad men" < rough the whole Rocky Mountain reon from the Canadian to the Mexican irdere, says the San Francisco Chron- i le. As a brigadier general In the I my, Indian scout, United States 1 arshal, chief of police of Denver in e lawless days, sheriff of Arapaho unty and head of the Rocky MounIn Detective agency, he created a ime that was a terror to the bad men the border. Though he was seven-one years old when he died In his enver home last week, there are still en living In the west who heaved a ?h of relief when they heard the luntless peace officer had followed the ilde across the range. General Cook id little respect for the professional tad man," and members of that class lew it. In his time he had arrested ore than 3,000 of them, beginning ith his career in Denver in 1859. mong them were between fifty and venty-flve murderers, all gx\n fights and professional terrors on the ontier, who boasted of the notches on elr gun barrels. Through so many dangers General >ok escaped unharmed to an advancI age. He explained his good forne through the curious fact that he as left-handed in handling weapons. I me and again the desperate borderen, waiting for first chance had atched Cook's right hand while preiring to get the drop. Then suddenCook's unguarded left flashed out Ith a forty-four on a bewildered prisler. Cook did more to drive outlaws from dorado and keep the peace than any her man In the western country. An Indlanlan by birth, born in La arte, where some of his relatives still te, he early entered on the advenrous career to which a love of peril tracted hint. He came to Denver id was In the ordnance department itil 1863. One of his exploits was the extermlitlon of the Reynolds guerrillas durg the war. Captain James Reynolds, Texan, with a courageous band of tiers, came north toward the close the war, Intending to take and deroy Denver. On the way they burni a number of New Mexican and Colado villages of pro-Union sympathlss. They were met by Cook and his ngers thirty miles south of Denver, >ar Elk creek, and a pitched battle isued. The Texans were routed with loss of nearly all their forces, and 'e of their captives were shot. One caped, however, and told a story at has led to a never-ending- hunt r burled treasure. It seemed that the guerrillas on elr way north, had attacked and ptured a Mexican treasure train, om which they secured 170,000, mostIn greenbacks. These they buried a locality on Elk creek, intending return and secure the treasure after ey had destroyed Denver. The exrmlnatlon of the band lost the secret, id because the only survivor was ver able to describe the place where e fortune was buried, It remains safe this day. Cook hunted for the fasure often, and every summer par>s spent weeks seeking it. One of General Cook's most notable polits was the quelling of the Chl se riots In Denver in 1880. Feeling ainst the Chinese who then lived re In great numbers, grew to such pitch that Infuriated mobs captured ilnese on the streets and strung em up to telegraph poles. The lawsness grew to such an extent that e sheriff and the police were power*s, and the Chinese quarter, with Its mlatlon of 3,000 was threatened with irnlng. In desperation the county id state officials appealed to General >ok for assistance. He swore in renty-flve picked deputies, all dead icts and fearless men like himself. ley were Known 10 me nuicia ao en who would do their duty, and obs dispersed as fast as they advanc. Without bloodshed peace was resred in a few hours and many arrests leaders were made. It was about this time that Cook rformed a feat as famous In the west the ride of Sheridan In war annals. ie of the banks at Leadville, then a mp just bursting into fame, was reatened with a disastrous f*un. lere was a telegraph, but no railed. The bank officials wired to Denr to a correspondent for aid, and Is bank employed Cook to ride 180 lies over the mountains to Leadville, rough an outlaw country, to carry 0,000 to the distress bank. Cook undertook alone the dangeris mission, and heavily armed startwlth the fortune in his saddle bags, herever the telergaph wire reached stage station messages were sent for lays of horses. Jumping from the ddle of one exhausted horse to anher Cook spurred over the trail in *s than twelve hdurs. All one day e cashier stood at the window and Id the clamoring crowds of angry Iners, while Cook was making his ie. The bank had twenty minutes iger to last when Cook spurred rough the streets of the camp and de a horse covered with foam rough the crowds up to the door. As lifted the bags of money from his ddle and carried them Inside the le of cursing miners they broke into eers and melted away. The most noted detective work done Cook was in connection with the urder of four Italian musicians In ?nver. The murderers, who were ne countrymen of the victims, had ur days' start when the bodies were und hacked to pieces In a shanty, ok traced and arrested them all In Terent parts of the state, and later ved their lives when, with his depus he fought off a mob that tried to ich them in Denver. All nine were nvlcted. As a government detective ok saved the government $100,000 cases handled by him. in spue 01 ins auviniccu oee utueral Cook appeared regularly at hla deak at the Denver police headquarters, where hla experience made his assistance valuable. He was assigned to Bpecial duty and contributed only recently to the solution of a number of difficult cases. Until attacked by heart disease only a few months ago he was vigorous In spite of a life of great Btress and activity. He stood over six feet In his stockings and was as agile as a cat General Cook was a thirty-second degree Mason and was high in the Odd Fellows and Knights of Pythias orders. Among: police and detective officers his reputation was national, and he was equally known In military circles. From 1863 to 1890 he held the posts of commander of the state troops during the Indian wars or was sherlfT of Ahapaho county or chief of police of Denver almost without a break. Pioneers assembled from all parts of the state to attend his burial. NEGRO UTOPIA FOUND. Educator Invites Colored Americans to Go to Republic of Liberia. Dr. R. A. M. Deputies, superintendent of public Instruction for the Republic of Liberia on the west coast of Africa, who although born In America, has spent fifty years In Monrovia, Liberia, started recently on his return trip by way of the Batavla, bound for Hamburg. He was a delegate to the general assembly of the Presbyterian church. Doctor Deputies went to Africa by way of the Underground railroad on his first journey there, and contrasted It with the palatial comforts of today, says the New York Tribune. He declared that this will be his last trip across the ocean. The doctor declares that Liberia is a God-selected spot for the American negro and that within five years he wants to see 100,000 Amerl can negroes in Liberia, where they can be happy, prosperous and wealthy and can truly worship under their own vine and fig tree. "We want no 'undesirable citizens' though," said Liberia's superintendent of education. "In Liberia," continued he, "we want men of our own race from America who would sympathize with us and deal charitably with us If we have any faults. We want men who will come with the desire to help us build up our country and establish there a nation that can be made the wonder und admiration of the world. In Liberia the American negroes could have a government of their own people and be ruled by men of their own race. Then, free from molestation and all fear, they could In composure worship the God of their fathers, build good schoolhouses, seminaries and colleges and maintain them for posterity, which would eventuate in the formation and the perpetuity of the United States of Africa. This is no Utopian idea. I wish that could get to the ears of ten million &f my raee in-America and the miBioiw more in the isles of the seA aait urge them to come home. : * , ' 4 X) "We want the American negroes to . come over and help us to bring fresh life and light to shine away the darkness. President Barclay and his cabinet would welcome all intelligent and well-to-do negroes, and would give them facilities for becoming happy and prosperous. Let those who desire to come secure here all the education possible, let them bring with them some money, and when they reach Africa they will be born again. "Of course Liberia is situated," said he, "in tropical Africa, and yet it does not get as hot there as it has been in the United States within the last few days. It Is the easiest country in the world in which to live after one has remained a year or two, but one must have patience, and plenty of it, when he first comes to Liberia. If, however, a man wants to go to a field to be useful and helpful along all lines of industry, let him come to Liberia. There ^ he will find no opposition, no competition and a great and varied field. "The American negro need not go to Liberia expecting to And work unless he starts something himself. He has the whole country before him In which he may do this, and there will be none to molest his legal operations." He took occasion to refer to the success that is attending T. McCants Stewart, who some years ago lived In this city, and was the first negro to be admitted to the bar in the state of New York. Doctor Deputies declared that if Stewart had remain In Liberia instead of returning to America, he would have been president of the republic long ago. Unlike most of the negroes who advocate negro colonization of Africa Doctor Deputies made no harsh criticism of America. 9 THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Swallows Fly Much Faster Than Pigeons. The French scientific weekly, Clel et Terre, prints a very Interesting article about the speed of several birds, as observed by August Vershcurin of Antwerp. The rapidity of flight credited to the swallow (200 feet a second) seemed exaggerated to him, and he undertook some experiments on his own hook. He sent several baskets of pigeons to Compiegene, France, and In a separate cage a swallow which had its nest under the gable roof of the railroad station at Antwerp. On November 7, at 7:30 In the morning, all the birds were liberated at Compiegne; the swallow took a northern direction, as quick as lightning, while the pigeons made several spirals in the air before they started in the same d'-ectlon. The shallow arrived at its ntst, in Antwerp, at 8:23, a number of witnesses being present at its arrival. The first pigeons only arrived at their destination at 11:30 of the same morning. The swallow had, therefore covered the entire distance of 1461 miles In 1 hour and 18 minutes, which Is equal to a speed of 1281 miles per hour or about 189 feet per second, which is about double the speed of an express train. The pigeons only reached a speed of 35 miles an hour, or 48 feet per second. It may be gathered from these figures how rapidly the mf.q-atlons of swallows take place, as vlth the speed given above It would require only half a day to fly from Belgium or central Germany to northern Africa.