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ABrideforanHonr. k Thrilling; Story of tie Joinstown Disaster. BY DAVID LOWRY. CHAPTER IX (Continued). Somers lay thinking. It would be well if he conld go to sleep and never wake gain. He thought more of the problem of life and death in the nest ten minutes than he had thought during his life. He sank into slumber again, and again be dreamed. He was journeying again. Now he was traveling by rail. He was whirled over endless countries, all new to him. There were as many stations as are usually encountered in the United States, but for some inexplicable reason the travelers passed through these depots one after the other. Never by any chance did two walk abreast. Somers was accompanied in these journevings by his wife. His wife always entered the cars first, always left them first, entered, passed through and out of the depots first. Somers had a premonition that he would lose her, spite of the order in which the vast body of people traveled. Suddenly he misted her, and then ho was in an agony of apprehension as he Btrove to find her. He woke with a 6tart. Tom Jerrold Vas atanding over him. "You were dreaming?" "Yes: I had the nichtmare. I think." He Bat up, and could not bo induced to risk closing his eyes again lest he should experience equally horrible dreams, until Mr. Broadhurst, who was near at hand, came to him. Mr Broadhurst talked of life in a way Somers had never heard any man talk before. There was a philosophy that sustained Broadhnrst?a philosophy that did not rob the world of religion or a God. It ennobled the philosopher, and placed his God upon a higher plane than most preaohers placed the ruler of the universe. Listening to Mr. Broadhnrst, Somers fell asleep a third time, and again he dreamed. When he woke up the third time, this dream was the most vivid and the most disturbing of all. He walked about in the darkness, keeping poor Tom Jerrold company. Tom was thinking of his daughter and his grandchild. If the flood had taken one ?but to lose both was more than Tom Jerrold's philosophy was equal to. "I heard Mr. Broadhurst talking to you. I hope he comforted you?I am orry to say all the religion and all the philosophy in the world cannot reconcile me to my loss, Mr. Somers. It doesn't lessen the pain to me. That baby clutched my heartstrings tighter than its soothe*- ever did. It was never out of my ight twenty-four hours since it was born. They were nil I had in the world. There is neither chick nor child left now. I have not a soul I can call a relative this side of the ocean." Somers sympathized deeply with him, and thus it came about that long before day broke Jerrold was comforted by Somers. Long before dawn the people who crouched on the mountain side, dazed with grief, suffering cold (scarcely one in a dozen had clothing sufficient to keep them warm), were astir. Here and there fires were lit only to flicker a few minutes and then die out. The fewest number were able to find dry wood. As the light broadened, the scene revealed to them surpassed in its simplest features the greatest ruin human eye ever beheld. "Where the city of Johnstown eat between the mountains they beheld a waste of waters, with a few houses standIng here and there. Hundreds of buildings were swept away. The devastation wrought in an hour was indescribable. It appalled those who looked on; the stoutest hearts grew faint looking o?er that scene of woe, where death overtook entire families in many forms. There was enough work for an hundred hands where thero waB only one. By noon on Saturday Somers was fainting?exhausted by his labors. It was well on in the afternoon, however, before either he or Mr. Broadhurst found anything to appease their hunger, and even then the crackers they moistened with water almost choked them as they thought of the thousands up and down the vrUey who had nothing. But there were the dead to arrange decently, so that they could be buried Among the first to whom friendly attention was paid was the remains of Alexander Rati edge, the lawyer. Numbers who knew him well looked on the remains before they were buried in a shallow grave, irith only a sheet around the body. Enoch Broadhurst helped to dig the grave. Si Harkess and Tom Jerrold were also present. Before Broadhurst wrapped the body in the sheet, a man approached the group. There was no one near the body at the time but Si Harkess, who looked up and beheld Giles Brockle. - ? Giles looked down on the face of the dead man. As he looked, he drew a long breath; then, tnrninjj on his heel, suddenly walked away as quickly as he came. 1 Sij Harkess looked after him curiously, ^uttgring: "He mus' be skeered to die. JCouldn't a-bear to look at Mars Rut16086.'' * Wiile Giles' thought was, "The only man I feared is out of the -way. John Watson, the preacher, i6 drowned. The only living man who knew there was a will is Tom Jerrold over there, for whom I do not care a snap. The property is mine?all mine now. I defy any one living to prevent me from doing as I please with it?as soon as my uncle is dead." He did not wait until his uncle died. Before nightfall Giles adopted a manner end tone, addressing many who were ' tenants of Tom Peters, which indicated proprietorship. One of these, more cour. egeous than the others, resented Giles' tone. "Are you acting for Mr. Peters, Mr. Brockle? If you are, I would like to see Tour authoritv. I am not in the habit oi Healing witn two men wnen I bargain with one." "You may have me to deal with alone, possibly." ' "Then there will be no deal," the tenant retorted, hotly. "I am going to bum this shed and this fence if I want to, either to accommodate suffering people or to please myself. I'll answer to Mr. Peters for it. As to answering to you, there can i never be any bargain between us two." "I'll make you rue that speech," said Giles, calmly, as he looked steadily at the tenant. "I'll make you rue you ever trespassed upon my premises ifyoudonot get off them at once. You are an intruder, Giles Brockle." "What will you do?" ' I'll knock your teeth down ycur throat," said the tenant. "A man who talks of 6aving senseless wood at a time when thousands are dead and dying of hunger and cold, who tries to prevent another from warming people who are perishing for lack of clothing?be off with you!" And then Giles, realizing his danger fts the tenant advanced toward him, suddenly walked away. "What was Brockle 6aylng to yon?" Enoch Broadhurst inquired of Tom Peters' tenant a minute later. Broadhurst witnessed the scene but did not understand it. The fiery tenant rehearsed 11 that pawed. J ' ion are not aware fils uucle Is dying?" "Is Tom Peters dying? Then God help any of his tenants that have dealings with Giles Brockle!" "I am inclined to agree with yon," said Broadhurst. "There never were two men more unlike than Tom Peters, as honest a man as ever lived, and Giles Brockle." "As. bifi a sneak ft nil rascal us ever lived in my opinion," said Tom Peters1 tenant. By nightfall half the male survivors id Johnstown knew that Tom Peters was on his death-bed, nrrt that Giles BrockU would inherit ail his possessions. The physicians who were called in when he was seized were in demand everywhere. There was work for scores that livelong day. Spite of their labors, they word able to corroborate the report thr.t in all probability Tom Peters would never set loot in Johnstown again. Squire J epson and Tom Peters were very intimate?"what one knew the other knew" Broadhurst added. "This matter must be determined speedily. Brockle is acting lilra o man wVin id Tint. onino trt loKfl anv time asserting his rights. He ib taking it uyon himself to protect the property as if it were his own. Then Broadhurst related all that occurred in his view between Brockle and Tom Peters' tenant. "So! The wind sits that way, does it?" Tom Jerrold replied. "Well, then all the more reason for giving Giles plenty of rope?and I'll predict he will hang himself. " The death of tbe ncnest man is the county was a matter that did not concern them. Tom Peter6 was never ruined? indeed, only those immediately concerned and connected with him gave the rich man lying out on the mountain elope, in his large empty house, a thought. There were matters of much more importance requiring attention. CHAPTER X. BUr.VTVOBS OF THE FLOOD. "When Rose Somers sank beneath the flood, her last thought was that fate had ordained she and her husband should die together. She felt the surging waters closing around her, and surrendered herself to death without a struggle. Then she became unconscious. When dimly conscious of life again, she suffered indescribable agony. A mountain of waters was pressing her downward. Pains racked her back, her neck. Her limbs seemed to be torn from her. In her agony she moaned. Then a voice Bounded in hor ears. The -voice was like the roll of thunder?it filled nil space. Death was, indeed, horrible. Could anything mortal endure it? Then she became unconscious again. Her next sensation was one of exquisite relief. She had passed the boundary line. She was in heaven. There was no pain. No weight. No feeling such as she experienced in the other world. She knew that she existed?further she knew nothing, oared for nothing. "She is breathing more naturally now. See!" Rose opened her eyes. An old man was Jlooking at her. She moved hei eyes. A Woman stood with her back to her. The woman turned that instant, and advanced to her. "Don't speak. Lie quiet. Sleep, if you want to. You are witn friends. Human nature is a puzzle. Bose Sorders burst into tears. "There?there, my dear," said the old man, "you will be well soon. You are weak now?you will be strong again in an hour or two, you will see." Poor Rose. She was crying because she was brought baok to life, while her husband was dead. She would rather be in heaven. But she closed her eyes again in a delicious languor, and instantly fell sound asleep. When she woke again there was only the woman near her. There was a dim , light?the light issued from a small lamp. \tose Somors looked around her curiously. Yes, she was in some sort of s house. It was a log house. She could Just make out that the spaces between the logs were "chinked." Tne floor was made of very broad boards. There was no sign ( of a carpet or rug. She was lying on a bed. There was something over in the corner of the room that looked like a bed on the floor. She managed to raise herself on her elbow. She was quite strong. She sat bolt upright. Where was she? How did she come there? Was Algernon there too? J In an instant ner feet were on the floor. . She would ask the man?that was no , dream; it was all real now?or the woman j where her husband was.. , No; it would be ingratitude to diBtu~\ ] tnem. , Rose Somers pondered long, Bitting there on the bedside. Then 6he resolved to look on the bed in the corner. Possi- ( bly Algernon was lying there, within arm's , length of her. She stole softly over the floor and look, ed down upon the face in the corner. \ It was a woman's face, but not the face < she had seen before she fell aileec. Shfi . turned around, staggered Dacfc to Ihe bed, ( and, sinking upon it, moaned. Her dis- ] appointment wa6 more than human heart , could bear. Instantly a figure stole into the room and a voice Rose recalled said: j "What is it? Do not be afraid. Noth- , ing can harm you here." I "Pardon me; I could not help it," said ] Rose, between her sobs. "I thought my , husband might be here in this very house; \ but Iknow he is dead. "We sank togethei , in thfit awful deluge." , "He may be living as you are. Hope j for the best. Can I do anything more foi j our , "iso; a thousand thanks for all youi | kindness. I will try to go to sleep again. I hope I shall not disturb you any more.'- \ "Yon do not disturb us. I hope you will sleep soundly; you will be the bettei of it." * a Then the figure disappeared, and Rose ? Somers was left alone again with hei a thoughts. She lay awake hours seemingly, and then sank into a peaceful sleep. ' She was aroused the next moraine by a t crackling sound. It was fat meat frying. The odor of the fat was borne into the room, She coughed. Presently a Biddie-aged, care-worn-looking woman entered. "How do you feel now?" The woman looked at her kindly. "Very well. I want to get up." "Yes-?well?but you must wail a inmate." There was a hesitancy in the woman's speech that puzzled Eose. She disappeared, and returned in afet ; minutes carrying a pair of trousers, vest, and coat in her arms. Eose looked at he! in astonishment as she said: "These are all we have for you to wear, i?I gave my other clothes to 6om? women who came here before you were brought in. I haven't a skirt left, even. There isn't a blessed bit of woman's clothing round, either. "Must I wear them?" "I don't see what else you can do. You don't want to lie in bed, and you might ns well?better wear these than try to go f with a blanket or quilt around you." "Oh, I ought to be thaukful," Eose re- E plied, as the woman disappeared. bne got up ana ares6ea nersen in ? man's attire, wonderingly. What Dext? c be might as well be in another world All trares of tne world she knew had (lis* , appeareA "Break *ust will be ready in a minute," J Baid the woman, looking in at the door. The shake-down in the corner was a vacant. Where was the woman who slept ^ there? Rose entered the next room. This j was where the fat was frying. , A small table was placed near the solitary small window in this room, which Berved the purpose of kitchen, dining, and living-room. There were but two A rooms in the log house. Sittine beside the table was a curious figure. The ficure was bowed down. The sanus were cro6sea aver the figure's breast. The head waB unmistakably a woman's, but th? garb?what was it the woman wore? This figure was swaying from Bide ta 6iue, with the head bowed, the chin almost touching the breast. "This poor woman has lost her child," said the woman of the house. A 6ad face was turned to .Rose. It war a beautiful face, but just now it looked to Rose as if all the joy had left the poor woman forever. "Yon two never knew cach other, I ts.c. J pect. I told John like as not you'd nevei seen each other." "Sorrow makes us one," said Eosef "'mplj-j as she hold out .a hand, which the other woman clasped lervently, saying: "I don't care T7hat becomcs of me. 1 wish I was dead. I want to die." It was pitiful to hear her. It was more trying to look at her bowed head. Eose felt how impossible it was for her to say anything that could comfort this poor woman. For the first tiitoe in her life she felt how weak words are?how puerile in hours of great affliction. "If I could only Bee my babe?if I did not touch it, even, but never to see ii again?what have I done that I am punished this way?" "The breakfast is ready now," said the woman of the house. "You two must I eat. It isn't much we've got to offer?such M it is I'm ?lad to fiive you. You're botb welcome to all we have," said tlie woman, simply. "Sit up no*, my dear, and eat I bite. John!" A man entered. Eose recognized thi face 6he saw in the night. John wui middle-aged. A man with sun-burned face and horny, wrinkled hands. A mas who einrad hi! bread "in the sweat" of his faco. A very eimple-mannered, straight-forward man. He sat down ftt one side of the table. Eose and the other women 6at opposite him. Then the woman of the house seated herself, and the man, bowing his head, asked a blessing. "Now, help yourselves, do," said the m-vmnn ma ?V>o Won nlflffid nnnn tfceii plates a plentiful amount of crisp break, fast bacon. There were fresh biscuiti and good butter, and plenty of cream. The man and woman talke^.for the purpose of turning the mind cf the womai who lost her child from her dead. Rose, realizing this, aided them, and in doing it, somehow experienced wondeiful re lief. In this way 6he learned how she be< came an iamate of the log cabin, and th< particulars, or all that was known, concerning the young mother, who, aftei trying to eat, eat nibbling at a small pieco of a biscuit listening to the others. "You oee, it rained awful?it rained Wednesday and Thursday. I never did hear such rainsaid the woman. "I told John?I mean on Friday morning jus< before break of day when I got up?] couldn't aleep for the rain?6ays L 'I'll com you, tnere isn v a sneep alive tt they're in the fold.' That's a crik bj this time." "It_ was, most," ?aid John. "I had hard work savin' em. "But we nav?r dreamed of trouble yesterday, axeept we knew the meadow wae ruined with all the sand flowing over it, the crik came up so, runnin' all over it. John, he had his hands full, hardlj stopped to eat a bite, working around generally. I was looking out of th? window Dack of your head ther.% sitting just here, when I seen something unusual. I went to the door, and there war a house floating down, an' people cryini for help. Their screams was awful. I'll never forget them to my dying day. John ran into the barn to get a rope. H? flung it out an' a ffirl caucht it. but she couiun i nom n a minute, tne river run 60 fast. The house just then turned over?something must have happened? and we never saw another live soul near it "There wag a whole lot of things all ovei (ho river then?everything jou could name?and there were people holding to logB and everything they could put handi on. John threw the rope to two men, and they got ashore somehow, I couldn'i tell how. There were some near th< Bhore. Then the crik backed up, and the drift got up in it?that wts where h< found you." Rose started. "You was lyiDg on a lot of boards. Th< boards were crosswise. Our neighbori just over t.'te hill, they came to see tin flood; by an.' by others come?the SSandi and the DidbertB viere there, all trjing t( help people who lloated pabt. An' tnej saved a good many. But they said yor was dead. There wasn't a sign of lif< about you. John, he stood on a long board and leaned out in the eddy where you were turning 'round, and then he fell in. But he held on to the board like ieath." "So would you," said John, calmly. "He got on the board again and reached out for the board nearest him, and pulled all the boards you were oil. Jim Sands, he's got hie wits always?he waded righ( in the crik, an' got hold, too, ju6t in tim< before a big tree swung up in the eddy, l'hey got up to you, and brought vot ricrht. nn to tha house. I Baid vou wer< "o ? ~r ? 1/ [lead, but Jim Sands 'loved you wasn'tj be'd seed men brought to after drownin aft en. A master band is Jim Sands. "Well, he worked with you, and Mrs. Didbert helped, an' we all had our hands full; an' in a little whila we knew Jin tras right. But it was gettin' dark bj that time, and Mrs. Didbert had to go bacS lome. She had to hunt clothes for s Jozen women folks that hadn't a stitch oe them. The men were just as bad?not i jne had a coat or vest on, an' some hadn'l 1 anything. Bat we were glad they wer< living." "Some didn't care whether they lived 01 ]ot,? said John, "I never want to g< ' ;hrough it again. "It was Jim Sands?if it Hadn't beet for his judgment " "Come, now, Sairy, you helped just ai ouch," bftid John. "Ton got the warn lannels, and rubbed, and did just as much s Sands." "Well, anyhow you came to, PJid we 1 rere glad of it thefc The fennels, they lad their handB full while Jim was here. Ctey saw this woman holding on to the oof of a house, with her head just out of rater. They've a big skiff, and they wero ij^ht out in all that wreck, and took her iut just in time. , She was net aWe to salk a step, 60 they carried her up nere. she w.is lung on tbe floor all night; we'd >ut you on the bed. I reckon a dozen or uore were picked out by theDidberts and sands. Anyhow, there was enough worn ill folks to take every bit of women's vear. The clothes were all tore off them. Jere and there one had 6ometh:ng left. They were all crazy?every one, except an >ld man, who said he didn't know why 5od spared the most useless one after aking all his sons and daughters. He ;aine in and looked at yon befora he went iwav. They all made their way over the tills; there's no neighbors here much, ["bey had to get help we couldn't give." Eose listened to this spellbound. It sxceeued anything she had read in fic? ionv ? 1* uere aro we nowi now lar are we Vom?" 'Trom Johnstown? Tout six miles," aid John. "Only six miles!" Rose's heart leaped. 'Then I can go back there to-day?at ?nce." John shook his head. "I dcn't Bee how. t'ou can't go the river road?it's flooded vay back three miles up the crik?an' hey say the railroad bridges are washed iway above and below. You couldn't get TAKncfnnrn if T?/vn P.rnweAr? fhA riv#?T. 1^/ u " J ? t'B moro'n nine mile across the country o the station?the roads are awful 'tween icre and New Florence?it would take ou longer " 1 "But how am I to get to Johnstown? fly friends will be distracted. The toner I can let them know I am living be better." 'J don't b& ?9 oof. You can't 1 walk up and down the monntalns?you'd got lost anyhow if you tried," John snid. "Well, but I can't Blny here. How far is it to 3telegraph station?" "Now yon ask me what I can't tell. I know one thing, Jim Sands says there isn't a wire standing. They've tried to get word to Philadelphia and Pittsburg and had to give it up. The country's wild back there in Sang follow." John 6hook his head toward the mountain side. Rose dranV her coffee in silence and reflected. She ate another biscuit, ana by that time she felt strong enough to undertake anything. She said as much. The woman of the house laughed at her. "Nonsense! You can't do anything for a day or two, till we get some way to take you two to the river road. X^iat's all." "But I can't. I must not stay h&rB. I must get to the railroad." "You can't get back to Johnstown then," said John. You're both welcome here for weeks." "I shall walk to the nearest station today." said Rosa. recolnfftlv .ton can do as you please," said the woman of the house, "only you may as well stay with us as go to another house." "If I can reach the nearest station I can find some way to get word to my friends if I can't go to them. I must send word to my friends." She began to hope her husband was living. It was like death to stay an hour longer with these people, simply grand and kindly as they had proved themselves. John was a hero in common life ?his sister a woman who was ready to rerfonn her dutv at all times. J he woman who ba^ lost her child * Aied to this with eyes shifting from out to the other. "I'll go, too." "Well," said John, "if yon two are go. ing, I don't know but you ought to go together. But I'd rather you'd wait till I can find a horse for you to ride?you might spell each other; it would be a heap easier." "No, no! We have given you sufficient trouble?more than you can ever be rewarded for now," said Rose. "Will you give me your name, sir? I want to tail *uv friends who saved mv "tfonn f raumin, ana my Bisters crulecl Sarah. Same name ? never married Neither of us two married." "How are you two going to travel i& them clothes?'' Sarah asked. "I don't care what I wear?I want to go where I can send word to my friends. That is all I think of now." "And I want to go where there is new* coming. I want to go where I can Ret down the river to look for my dead baby. It will be somewhere?I must find my poor baby. I'll never rest till I find it, said the mother, weeping afresh. "Can't you find them hats somewhere, John? I'd give them my sunbonnet, only ?how would they look with your old clothes and any sort of bonnets? "I guess I can rake up an old straw hat somewhere, Sairy?and there's another." "No!" said Rose, resolutely. "Yon wore that in the house. It is all you have." "No, it isn't. I've another just as good." "I want to see the other, then." John was a long time getting the other. When he handed it to her he looked guilty. A. tinge of color rose in his wrinkled cheeks. It was torn and battered. "This will do me very well," said Rose, and she refused to take the best. "Be you two going right now? I wish you wouldn't?you'll never find your way." "xhe power that haB preserved our lives will sustain us, Miss Franklin," said Rose. "Now, tell us the nearest way to New Florence." John scratched his head. "I don't know as you can do better?but it's awful foolish?thin to keep right straight over the bills. Don't go up to the top?you'll have to travel 'bout half-way up. Back a mile you'll strike Didbert's, and near them is Dick Sands'. 'Long a mile or so _i 1.1-4 i? T>~1, T{?m Then you'll find plenty of farms for awhile, but like aB not there won't be a horse or wagon, and the roads?nobody is making much head-way on them now, Everything's so torn up by this flood." Rose turned and kissed Sarnh Franklin on either cheek. Then sho extended a hand to John. _ . -uoofl-Dy, ana maj God reward you until I can return eoc_jOthing better than words for all I owe ycu." "I?I?guess I'd better go along with you two." Rose shook her head. Sarah kissed tha weeping mother, who also shook John'i hand convulsively; then these two susr Ivors of the flood walked 6lowly but resolutely np the mountain side, whili John and Sarah Frauklin stood watching them. "And to think, Sairy, I never thought to ask them their names." "Never fret, John; the one with the coat on vi ill be sure to let you know who she is, nLd she will tell you all about the one wearing jour old fed 'wamus.' I wouldn't let the other po if the one you took ont of the river didn't look like as if she could take care^i both." [to be cosmued.] the first -wMte "woman tnat ever penetrated the mysteries of the Olympic Mountains has just returned from an extended trip accompanied by her | husband, Phil Hamilton, and twenty others, says the Seattle Press. Tiie party entered the range from the head of Quilcene River, this county, crossed ove^ the divide, and descended down the Press Valley to the Elkwa Kiver, thence to Port Angeles. "While in the Press Valley the party distincly heard subterranean noises, which indicated internal disturbances. Large bands of elk and deer were frequently seen, and Beveral exciting bear fights were indulged in. Mrs. Hamilton rode the entire distai ?.q on horseback. Although the following is from one of Sam Jones' recent sermons the New York Tribune almost feels that we ought to apologize for quoting it: "Some ladies think they must keep a little whisky to make camphire, etc., but what are you going to do when you wnke up in hell fire, old gal ? I tell you, dudes and duciines, if you come fooling about me I'll spit on you and drown you, you are so insignificant. "We don't bury dudes. They haven't got smell enough after they are dead to annoy any one, and we just hang (hem on a limb." The Czar of Kussia Is a Hopeless conservative, but in sending his son and heir to travel around the world, visiting all countries "to gain vigor of constitution and breadth of intellect," he does a more liberal thiDg than any of his predecessors ever did. The czarewitch will even visit and study the United States. If the knowledge he i*rrl>An lin g UlIiD VI ILL CQUOC 11JLLU, niiCU UC VUUioo vu ; the throne, to give the Russian people a parliament, and treat Siberian prisoners like human beings, then his travels will be to some 'purpose. It is reported in Washington that i ex-President Haye3, of Fremont, 0., is engaged to be married to a Virginia lady, whose name is familiar at White i Sulphur Springs and other society re- ' iort?. ^ - 1 ~~ TAMED LIONS. MORE READILY BROKEN THAN ANY BEAST OF THE FOREST. Taught to Appear Ferocious?Experiences of Circus Men "With "The Kin# of Beasts"?Romances AUUUt LH't'Ub ALtlUCUlO. The writer has taken the trouble to hunt up the records of lions that have been shown and performed in the United States during the past twenty years and finds that there is not a single instance on record of a performer or anybody else having been bitten by a ferocious lion. In all that time only one man,who was drunk at the time of the occurrence, has been struck by the paw of a lion. This man was paid for brutally maltreating one of his charges by a blow that knocked him senseless and was left lying in the bottom of the cage lor twenty minutes, while the four occupants of the cage which he was in quietly curled themselves up in the corner and watched him. That occurred in Pennsylvania, and he was a man named Adam "Wenzel, who was with the O'Brien show. A HIGHLY TRAINED FOREST MONARCH. "As ft matter of fact," said John B. Doris, the well-known museum manager, but formerly a circus proprietor of some thirty years' experience, "there is no animal with which we circus men have to deal that is so easy to handle, and so safe for a performer as a lion. In everything they are just like great big goodnatured dogs, easy to train and more than ordinarily easy to perform. In fact, after they are once trained to do their tricks, anybody with whom they are acquainted, such as an attendant or a man whom they have been accustomed to see around the show, can go into their cage and put them through their act with perfect safety. Why, in one season I had no less than eleven men perform my lions and in each case these men were feeders, canvas-men, hostlers and other employes of the circus who would be apt to be about the animals all the time. "It is the appcarance of the lion and that dreadful roar of his that strike terror into the heart of the spectator and cause him to think that he is in great' danger; but that roar of the lion, while so dreadful in sound, is like a good many other things in the show bijsiness, more of a deception than otherwise. A lion really only roars when he is in a particularly good humor, and he can no'more help doing it than can a dog help barking. "An incident occurred with my show in Indiacapolis which proves how great the terror a lion will cause and really how docile he is. "We wefe fixing up in the spring of 1886 to go on the road, in the Exposition building, and I believe there were three hundred men at work in the building. One of my men, named Pearl Sowder, was transfening the four lions from the old cage to the newly painted wagon, when, by the carelessness of one of the attendants, the door flew open and two of the animals, Romeo and' George, jumped out and started across the room towards a couple of barrels that contained fat from the meat with which the animals were fed. The minute they struck the ground somebody spied them and shouted 'The lions are loose!' In a half a minute?yes, in less time than that?every one of those 300 men was out of that building, and they didn't' stop for doors either: they went through windows, taking, glass and everything else. "Sowders heard the noise, and looking round, jumped out of the cage, ran across he room, crabbed Romeo bv the scruff of the neck and draecred him back and literally Dooted him into the cage, and then served George the same way. All those two lions cared for was the fat iri the barrel. I paid $80 for the glass, though, that the men broke when thej went through the windows, and so mj recollection of that incident is a vivid one." THE LIOXS A TIE LOOSE. The two lions Mr. Dorris spoke of as jumping out of the cage were two of the best trained animals ever shown in [ America and when Dorris sold out his circus the Orrin Brothers bought them and took them down to Mexico, where they are still performing. Romeo was afterwards trained by a man named Volta to do the riding act and it is said that the exhibition of the lions in a bull pen in Vera Cruz by the Orrins netted them $10,000 in one week. This part of Romeo's act consisted of crouching on a ill I paaueu xiorsc wmie tut; uuisu imping around the ring, and then at the word of command jumping over a banner and alighting on the pad again. Romeo has also been taught to walk a narrow plank much in the fashion as a tight rope. Prof. Geonrc Conklina, who is Barnurn & Bailey's animal trainer, smiled when asked if lions were dangerous and said: "Well, no; I should think not. And theie are only two animals that we have anything to do with that arc dangerous; one is an elephant and the other a leo- i pard." Lions arc very easily broken and \ very easily performed after being broken, i Why, I took four lions when the Barnum . show went into winter quarters and broke ) them to do a half-dozen tricks in two i weeks, in addition to training dens of < wolves, bears, hyneas, leopards, tigers j ind pumas. The way I usually ( brain animals is to give them i in hour or two hours' practice i i morning and afternoon. In training lions, we begin with the simplest of tricks; for instance, take the act of a lion jumping through a hoop. One attendant holds the hoop on the ground and the lion is made to walk through; if he docs not -walk through or does not understand, why take hold of the back of bis necit and naul mm turougb. After he knows that he has got to go through that hoop anyway, it is lifted up a little t XT. ?J *:i A?ii_ mguer irom me ^ruuuu, uuui uuuuy iuo desired height is reached." 4'How do you train a lion so that you can put your head in his mouth?" "That doesn't require any training; just yank his mouth open and put your head in." "How about the sensation when tho lion stands up and puts his paws on your shoulders?" "Well, we lift him up until he ismado to understand that he must get up himself. The usual performances of the lions are in this manner: The cage is divided into three compartments, with a door between each, and tho trainer goes in there and he first makes a picture; he stands in the centre with a whip in each hand, while one lion stands up with his paws on the cage in one corner, and then crouches in one end, and the other two squat and watch him in a restless fashion; and then the trainer puts them through all their tricks, separately and together, such as jumping over a pole and through a hoop bound with oakum and saturated with naphtha, all flaming, puts his head in their mouths and winds up the act by firing rapidly a six-barrelled revolver, and jumps out and slams the door of the cage behind him. And if he has an especially well-trained lion, as he slams the gate that lion will jump against the bars and make them rattle." "How are they trained to jump against the bars?" "In the same way they are trained to jump over a pole. We wind up the act in the same way every night, and the closing of the gate is a signal for the lion to jump." "Are they amenable to kindness, Mr. Conkling?" "Yes; but they are much more amenable to the discipline of the gad. But they are unlike other animals in this particular; they do not have to be constant-; ly watched after once broken. A leopard is treacherous, and no matter whethei you have worked him ten years or ten days, if you take your eye off of him for one instant he will strike you. Of TEACHING A LION TO JUMP. course, some animals are more easily trained than others, and so when we get a lion that is not easily broken we don't waste time on him, but set him aside and train those that are most intelligent." "Are there many performing lions in the United States ? ' "Well, I couldn't say just how many, but there are a great number. Mr. Forepaugh had so many at one time, over thirty, that he gave them away for almost nothing to save the cost of his meat bill. The female -will have a litter every six months of three to five cubs, and as the whelps are ordinarily healthy and breeding of lions has been going on for the past thirty years there must be a great many throughout the United States. A good specimen, full grown, and well broken male is worth $2000." One of the animal attendants at Central Park had something to say about lions, and he confirmed the statements of Mr. Doris and Mr. Conkling as to their docile qualities. He raid: ''Young man, have you ever seen an attendant clean out a cage? He just gets in there and sweeps away, and if the big 'cat' is in the way, he sweeps him to one side with the dirt; there is no more harm in lions to a man that knows 'em than there is in a big dog. I'll tell you a curious thing aboul lions and animals. Just watch animals that are fat and healthy, and then you look at the man that takes care of tnem and l'eeds them, and you'll find that he is a great, big, red-faced, healthy man himself. Animals don't like thin, consumptive-looking chaps, and they get thin and worry and lose their tempeis with that kind of attendants. I was with Forepaugh for ten years and he wouldn't have a thin man 'rouna tn? show?that is, near the animals. No, 1 never did hear of a man being bitten 01 scratched by a lion, except one man and he didn't know his business. "Why, lion performances are so common that the circus people don't think the act any good any more, and a lion trainer can't get over $30 a month. That's the reason I quit the circus business. I can remember a time when there was good money in tt. I first went with Van Amburgh, who was the greatest animal trainer that ever lived." Every season, while a circus is traveling around the country, wrecks occur. Cages get smashed and animals get out. When that is the case and a lion gets out of the cage which is his home he doesn't know what to do, and crouches on the ground much more frightened than the people arouud him, and he stays there until somebody takes and puts liim in his cage or brings the cage up to him and theu he will jump in. A good illustrative instance of that kind occurred in a railroad accident in a tunnel just outside WIT1IOCT CEREMONY. Puirimnro nbaut two years aaro. In the Cole show the lion and tiger cages ivere wrecked in the center of the tunnel, ind the lion got out and roamed through the tunnel in the dark until finally he ivalked out one end and jumped into an jmpty cage. But Mr. Cole had to take 1 lantern and go in the tunnel and secure :he black tiger himself, which he did ivithout much difficulty. There is a school for the training of ' .'.-J [ animals or properly a building in wnicikj animals arc trained on the edge of thdj rriMdnws nt the hack of JerSOV ClfcVi Heights, and over theze is a lion whelp being trained to do some remarkable tricks. Already he can see-saw on a board, stand up on his hind paws aitt walk a few feet, drag a wagOTv" around while harnessed to it, anc his trainer is trying to make him wine up his performance by trotting off to hit cage carrying the apparently senseleai body of his master in his mouth. If hfl succeeds in thoroughly training him, and it looks now as if he would, the lion will undoubtedly be worth a mint to Mr.-:'. Seaman, his master.?New Tori World, . COO Miles on Snowshoes. Mr. J. W. Phillips, a resident of Toronto, is preparing for a winter'? sojoufli in the woods of Newfoundland, whew he has what is called a 4'timber limit'' of 250 square miles. It was in connection with this lumber enterprise that, soma seasons ago, Mr. Phillips undertook one of the most perilous journeys on record; One day in the dead of winter he started ; to walk on snowshoes from his mil] at PHILLIPS ON HI8 J0URN1ST. Point Limington to Bay d'Espoir, a distance of 250 miles. At the latter poinj he hoped to catch a steamer for St. John, \ but in this he was disappointed. There/ upon he decided to cover the intervening : 350 miles on foot. He had a terrible experience. Danger! from avalanches of snow besft him con^ ^ tinually. Then wolves struck his trail and followed him closely. He wai obliged to kill deer and leave the bodie* untouched that the wolves might eat them instead. Twenty-two days aftei leaving his mill Mr. Phillips reached St. John. He had covered 600 miles on snowshoee, carrying all the while a pack. weighing forty-five pounds. Bill Nye's Attempt at Dignity, j Hfr - r TV' ;(* " > " \ Wax people are noted for their dignity, and repose. They have no brains, but they never forget to be dignified. I hate dignified people, writes Bill Nye in the New York World. I never tried to be dignified but once, and that was two weeks ago. I wore a handsome new. frock coat and suit of dark blue and d new shining Russia iron silk hat, to drive my family over the Finger Bowl road on Staten Island and on to flouth Beach. I was proud and haughty, dressed up, serene and mentally vacant in order to look dignified. People who saw us driving thus afterward paid me a high compliment by telling my wife what a dignfr fled and thoroughly clerical-looking coachman she had. Since that I have not tried to look dignified. Inroads of Civilization iu Africa. ! Mr. Stanley writes to us, saying that "the advertising sign painter is doing his share toward the civilization of the female portion of the dark continent."? Life. A Sensible Wedding. Out in Keokuk, Iowa, a couplo were married recently after the homely fashion of our ancestors and with no eni of fun. They were well-to-do people, but the bride wore a calico dress, the groom a suit of jeans, the decorations were autumn leaves and the guests were requested to come in calico and jeans and without presents. Mr. "Ward McAllister might not aDDrove such primitive simplicity,' but there is nothiug like calico to set off the native beauty of a pretty girl.? 2?ew York Mercury. ' The municipality of Genoa, Italy, has, it is reported, consented to restore the house in which Christopher Columbus' lived. It is rapidly falling into decay,_i and has long stood in need of repair. Germany is the largest coal producing country of continental Europe, the amount of the production for 1887 being 81,863,611 tons. A flock of blackbirds three miles long and half a mile wide passed over Arlington, Ga., a day or ivto ago.