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CHUB. A Romance of West Vii'gioia, BY DAVID LOWRY. CHAPTER XIX. A BTARTLIfiO CHAKGR. All who had heard of tho missing bridegroom wero anxious to see Dan Sash. People came to tho Corners from all quarters to see the man who was held captive by the counterfeiters. They would talk to Eli Potts or his wife; if they were so fortunate as to be on speakterms with Hauk Dawson they made ?? delay, but rode up to his door, dismounted, entered tho house, and congratulated the man who was well out of IDG "ClUWUl'S U1 UlUb Chub Dawson, now for tho first time known throughout tho Stato as Miss Bello Dawson, as tho newspaper correspondents described her, was invariably ought out, complimented highly, admired, and wearied with hand-shaking. "Such a fuss about nothing," said Chub one day, as sho sat down besido her father. "Well, yes?just what I was thinking myself." His daughter looked at him in surprise. "I've 'bout mado up my mind, as we've found Dan here, that the woddin' may *s well go on now. I'm tired seein' so many folks hitchin' up hyar, 'n never a one wanting a shoe for their horse. I'm petting out of practice. If they've made up tLeir minds to call?well, let us give 'em all a good excuse. 1 guess wo may as well send out word to the folks to-morrow. 1 can't stand three days more of this crowd. Lot 'cm all come together, or else spread themselves along aaore over the year." There was a quizzical smile on his face %b Hank Dawson said this. Dan Bash did not speak. Chub was on the point of replying, but her father put out a hand. "See here, Chub. I reckon I'll manAge this time. You go to work and nurse Dan up to his old color. That arm o' his ain't any too comfortabletut thorn doctors isn't to blame. It's coming on right well considering they liad to set it up that way. It won't be In the road of the dancers. And he doesn't dance with his arm anyho\y." said Dan. "And I'm not likely to aance much with my feet for a few <Iay9." "+ "Well, I'm in dead airnest, Chub. Let's get through with all this fussin'. If we'll just give the word out that all them that was invited before are invited again, I reckon that'll be about all that's aecesukry." "Oh; no, dad," said Chub. ?|What el%e?i3 there?" "You'll have to send and have just the tame things you got before for the supper?and the music." "To be sure?to be sure. * "And that will require time to give them notice, and to get the things here." "I am reckoning all that, too," said ber father. "I'd like to have the Monks In prison," said Chub. "They're in jai.. That's good enough, ain't It? They're not likely to bother any one for a spell, I reckon. Leastways, I ain't afoard of them catching bold of Dan again soon." As Hank was in earnest, no more was aaid. There was really no objection to ais project. The . Interrupted wedding, the lovers ay^eed, should De celebrated at the earliest day possible An ob;ectiwn was made however from an unexpected quarter. A man came up the road slowly at that moment, dismounted leisurly and approached the bouse. "It's Tom Walker, the sheriff," said Hank Dawson. "What's he after now, I'd like to know." -v. The she/iff approached the group on porch, and was cordially welcomed fcy the blacksmith. "Mighty fine weather, Mr. Waiter. Have you had >ouT puppet?" V "Thanks, yes.'' Bhedli looked at Dan Bash atid Chub curiously. He made a sign to the blacksmith, which Hank Dawson did not compreheud on the instant j "How's the counterfeiting cang, sheriff. ,A11 In the same row of colls? If they "are, they'll get out 'Taint safe to trust that crowd, sheriff." "We ain't trusting thorn, Mr. Dawson. " He made another sign, which Hank Dawson understood. But it did not suit / his notions. He was resolved the sheriff should say what ho had to say, then and there. "Well sheriff, if you've got any particular business with me?speak out. There's nobody but ourselves here. My daughter, and Dan Bash, my son-in-law that's goin' to be as soon as wo can arrange to havo the wedding, just as it was before that gang and bad luck interfered. " The sheriff cleared his throat. "It's rather a delicate matter I've come on." "Eh? Well, now, that's unexpected. But let's have it, Sheriff. We can stand it if you can, I reckon. " "Why, the fact is. the Monks?Ned. Bill, and Pete, and Dick Treddle?all of tho.in make a serious charge against Mr. Bash." "Against Dan Bash?" Hank wasn't quite sure who was meant. "You see, there's another Bash. The man who came here to catch the gang calls himself Bash." "Theysaid Dan, tho school-teacher." Chub looked at the Sheriff woudcrincly. She listened like one in a dreain. Was it possible anything would corne between her and her lover now? What did the Sheriff mean? "Well, what do tho Monks say? Mind, j before you answer. Mr. Walkej, 1 ^TouTdn'f believe ~aTT 1he~ Monies'"arid"the Treddlee back to four generations if could bring them out of their graves?no; not if four generations of that gang could get on a stack of Bibles and swear to it, I'd not mind it more'n the wind blowing." "That's just my way of looking at it, Hank," said the Sheriff. "But I've sworn to do my duty." "Ju course.. Well, go on." "Why, they've pintedly said Dan Bash Is in tbe samo line they are in." What's that, Sheriff?" It was Chub's voice. She had risen from her scat oo the end of the porch, and was now standing with ner liand on Dan Hash's shoulder. She looked to the Sheriff like some one guarding him. "Yes?I want to know," said Hank Dawson. "Them's strange words." "Jf 1 must put it plainer, they swear or allege he deals in the qucei himself. " "Deals in the queer! (Jueer! What's queer, Sheriff Walker?" "Counterfeit money." The blacksmith laughed derisively "Sho! Humbug. You Know it's "humbug, J-heriff." "1 don't believe a word of it." "I knew it" "But that isn't all." I "Eh?" . Hank Dawson looked half angry. *We!T, wliat else?*" ' . "They do say," here tb? JMI hitched his chair uneasily, "t'Aat tt?y can prove it. And to begin with, they , say his name isn't Bash at all. His real name is something else." "Humbug again Sheriff. Humbug. You don't believe it?" a "No." "Of course not." a "Dan Hash, who was' looking calmly at the .Sheriff all the while, now turned j and looked up at Chub. "Would it make any difference to you ^ whether my name is liash, Brown or " Buff?" . " "Not the least." ,, "It might to others," said the Sheriff. "I'll own up it might make a heap o' ? difference in this case," said Hank, carelessly. "The looks of tho thing, under r the circumstances, might make people think maybe the Monks wasn't alto- . gether wrong. 'Tain't usual for a man . to change his name. " . "Of coure they are wrong," said the Sheriff. "But why they are such fools as to pretend to be able to prove your r name isn't Dan Bash, but altogether an- ^ other name, which they will reveal at the right time?that's what puzzles me, ? unless it's to gain time and help put in time. They've sent mo here on a fool's errand, of course, but duty's duty, Hank." y "Of course?of course," said Hank r Daw.son. ""You can prove your name is Dan Bash p very easily. I suppose?can bring those who will identify you, Mr. Bash, very soon." There was a lengthy silence. Hank Dawson stared silently at his daughter's j affianced. Chub Dawson's lips were parted. Her eyes seemed to read her lover's soul. At last her lover turned to the Sheriff rr and said slowly: * "Well, suppose my name is not Bash? what then?" "Oh, why," the Sheriff said awk- ? wardly, "why, I don't know as it would prove anything, or go for much when , the facts are all known." "Well, then, my name is not Bash, Mr. n Walker." a "Not Bash!" "Not Bash?not Bash!" exclaimed ? Chub, as she caught her hands, intorlac- ? ing the fingers, "You don't mean it, Dan!" J1 "But I do mean it," said Dan, deliberately. c' "Then I'm sorry;" said the Sheriff, ?l "for my instructions were to bring you " with me, and now " w "Stop, S&crift!" Hank Dawson walked slowly opposite his daughter's lover, then he bent down and gazed steadily in his face. w "Let^ me hear that again. Is your name uasn or noty The jover's countenance was equally solemn, his manner grave, as he replied, w slowly: CI "It is not." m "That's all, Sheriff. For God's sak?, take him now?now! I can't bear to see M him, for he was like ray own sod! He was?he was?Sheriff." . I' And Hank Dawson bowed his head be- I' tween his hands. Chub stood spellbound several mln- D utes. Then she rushed on her lover, caught his sound arm convulsively, and M said: tt "There's some dreadful mistake. 1 tt believe In you. I'll die if you are not pi all I think you are! Say you are what we think you are?0! Dan! Dan! Speak qi to father!" cc The Sheriff turned aside and made some suspicious movements, like a man wno was wiping uis eyes. - 81 But the blackcmith's head was still bowed in humility. j(] CHAPTER XX. AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE. . " Dan Bash?or the man who had been known as Dan Bash?looked at Hank * Dawson strangely. He seemed to be re- p vol vine something in his mind. Then he said, very deliberately: v: "Sheriff, I am ready to go with you!" "Dan! Dan!" ' Chub looked at him appealingly. "But before I go," said Dan, quietly, "let me take you into my confidence." "I don't want you to tell me anything. I don't want to know nothing about this miserable business," said the Sheriff. "I'd rather than fifty dollars! I would, plum sock out of my pocket, than see a a] younff fellow as handsome and as smart and with such ways as yours " "Well?" said Dan, looking at him soberly. "Get mixed up with these blamed counterfeiters. Don't you tell me nothing. If they prove it on you, they shan't rtn it. hv me?no. sir. That ain't Tom Walker's style. I'll execute the law, but blamed If I'll furnish tho proof!" - "I like to bear you say so, Mr. Walker. But.what I was going to say is just the opposite of what you imagine.'' llaok Dawson lifted hjLs. head at that aTlie very opposite. To begin with? my name Is a very good name. It is . Ross. My people are very respectable M people. My father is as well known as any man'n the State* And he is very fc well known in other States, too. And in it Washington." ? A peculiar smile played around his mouth now as he glanced at Hank Dawson. v "Your name may bo Ross, ana your folks lirst-elass, but you was going to marry my daughter as Dan Bash. How do you make that gee with respcctability?" 5 Hank spoko sorrowfully. He could fj not speak harshly to the young man. 1 "I had not the least intention to marry ri your daughter under tho name of Dan u.< Bash." pJ "No?" 111 The Sheriff stared at him. ^ "It never once entered my mind." w "No?" w Hank Dawson began to arouse him- m self now. Ho shook his shoulders, di straightened.out his arms, brought his p< * ?3~ ~ ? * ? ? ? -J r?/v.n Hi nifiius lugetuer again, <*uu iuvn1115 uum one to the other said, slowly: . "This is getting too much mixed up ? for mc." ft] 1 "P'raps you'll make It clearer for us ^ I all," said the Sheriff, politely. lii "In good time. I Intended rcscrvlne: ci a surprise until tho minister was ready R< to marry us. Had I been permitted to d< reach the house in time I would have tt said to all the company what I am now going to say to you. I am not Dan t( Bash. That name was assumed?It is jj; the name of another, who is indebted largely to my father for his position in S( the world. And it was assumed with ?< the knowledge and consent of the real it Dan Bash?the detective." fi "I knew you were true, Dan ." ?] Chub stole to his side and put her band on his sound arm. w "I would have told the company that {' my father represented his district in y Congress four terms in succession. c That he has represented the nation abroad. That he is abroad now." n "What!" exclaimed the Sheriff. "Yon ii don't tell me you are a son of the Don. V Dan Ross do you?" " "I am." "What!" - J Hank Dawson peered in Ross' face (l eagerly. i; "You a son of Dan Ross!" d "Is there anything wonderful in that? r or strange or startling?" 11 "Well, but coming up here in the mountains?leaving all your fine folks 0 behind you?starting out for a school! J Blamed if it ain't too much for me to j, grasp just at once. Give mo a little n time," said ilank Dawson, in a dazed \ way.,/- - . t "I don't ask time. 1 know al) abo I, I think." Chub nestled closer to h!s side. "My name is Dan, loo. People w] now me call me Dan Ross junior." "This beats all. It's more wonderf han a play?like the novels one hea bout," said Tom Walker. "My reason for coming here under J ssurncd name was to avoid friends, wl rould, perhaps, follow me. They ha habit of hunting me up. They pi own on me in unexpected places. I hi nother reason, too?a powerful reaso l lady friend?tho most Invetera matchmaker in the State?has resolv* shall marry some one of her young lac n TTq mirrht. Viji.va addfid. o] iece in particular was designed f iim; but his gallantry and sense of pi >riety would not permit Dan Ross int so much even to bis affianced. "I was desperate. I know Strang hings have happened than marriag rought about simply to secure wager Anally, I was on my mettle for anoth eason. I argued?still hold?that oung man may go out in the world his country without a friend, witho loney, and by honesty, earnestness ai bility win his way iirst, providing 1 as no bad luck, such as sickness ther misfortunes." "By George!" sa:d the Sheriff. "Ai ou undertook to prove it?" "I have proved it, haven't I, M )awson?" "Hang your mister! Call me Han 'roved it! Well, I reckon ratheratber. "The gang must have found out yo eal name some way," said Chub. "No! They do not suspect who I ai was too quick for that. I tell y< 'hat they did find. When I resolved dopt the name of Bash I wrote a mer randum stating my name was not Bas 'hat in case anything happened to n ny person addressing John Andersonn uncle, by the way?at such a plac iving a description of my effects, ai srtain things in my possession, and < ly person, would find out who and whi was." "That was right sensible, too," sa 'ank. "Yes; and now I begin to see tbroug je whole thing, Mr. Dawson," said tl heriff. "The gang'jumped to the conclusic [r. Eoss waa ashamed of .something:vd done something he had to run forlanged his name, and was just tl aicUen they were looking for to ho! ing dust in the commonwealth's ey< hen the trial comes on." . "I see?I see it now just as plain i 3U do, Sheriff," said Hank, eagerly. Than grasping Dan's hand Hank sai< ith deep emotion: "Don't mind urned old fool like me a mite?I didn lieve it! 1 couldn't b'iieve it; but ijida'obfust^d. me?twisted mj all u; hen you said you wasn't Bash. Chul bub! He's worth a milliou commc en! He is. Chub!" "Darned if I don't thintt you aro righ 'r. Dawson," said Tom Walker. "But now, as sheriff of Pino Count] m in a blessed predicament here, ain "Why? It's all clear now," said Han awson. "You forget. I'm expected to arrei r. Ross as' a confederate, or a dealer i 10 queer. Which is a mighty que* ling to do, if you'll allow me to make jn on this occasion." "]S'oI On the contrary," said Chul aickly; "it is the very best thing thj mid have happened." Whereupon thay all looked at Chub. "Explain, Miss Dawson," said tt leriff. "Yes, Chub, out with it I want i low," said her father. "I dare say Chub is perfecting a pla iat will 'promoto the ends of justice i the newspaoers say, and land tt onks and all their associates in th initentiary." And Dan Ross looked at her proudl] "Weil, then, listen," said Chub. ]T0 HE CONTINUED.] TEMPERANCE, ROT ! Amid rotting grains and rotting frull Icohol has birth. No wonder if his wor ways shows the traces of his origin. Rot of barley, rot of corn. That's where Alcohol is born. T9 hig rotten natiuc true, ^ aO rut *o ttii ihat h$ cub Jo. Rotten men fifid rotting boys, Rotten hopes and rotten joys Rotten fame and reputation . Rotten politics in the Nation; Rotten ballots, rotten laws; Parties with a rotten cause; Nursed on Nature's rotting juices. Rot is all that he produces! ?The Voicc. PSOMOTIKO TEUTERANCE IS RUSSIA. In Russia tho Government n^w promotes iRtfuirf of oDDosinc temperance work [embers ol the temperance societies among! leMoujike undertake to abstain from vodk >r a twelvemonth. The first time one ( lem breaks his promise he is fined thrf mblcs, and receives nineteen strokes wit le rod. The second time the punishment i oubled. TLATINO DBtJNR. The experience of a skilful profession! an was lately given me, by a friend, : jout the following words j "My early pra ee>," said the doctor, "was successful, ar soon attained an enviable position. I ma ed a lovely girl; two children were born 1 5, and my domestic happiness was con lete. But I was invited often to social pa es where wine was freely circulated, and >011 became a slave to its power. Before as aware of it I was a drunkard. My nob ife never forsook me. never taunted n ith a bitter word, never ceased to pray fc y reformation. Through my criminal h algence and neglect we became wretched] aor, so that my family were pinched f< lily-bread. "One beautiful Sabbath my wife went I lurch and left me lying on a lounge, sleej igolT my previous night's debauch. Iwi rouHtJU uy u earing ?o in turnup imii uuuvuy v ie floor. I opened my eyes, und saw m ttle boy of six years old tumbling upon tt iroet. His older brother said to liirn, 'No\ et up and fall again. That's the way pap pea : let's play wo are drunk !' I watche 10 child as fie personated my beastly mov< lenl s in a way that would have done cred ) an actor! I arose and left the hous< roaning in agony and remorse. I walke ff miles into the country, thinking ov< ly abominable sin and the example I wi itting before my children. I solemnly r iived that, with God's help, I would qu iy cups, and I did. No lecture I ever hear orn Mr. Gough moved my soul like tl poetaehs of my own sweet boys 'playin runk as papa does.'1 I never pass a dn rithout thanking my God for giving me rayiug wife, and bestowing grace sufllciei ) conquer my detestable sin of the bottl ladam ! if you have a son. keep him, if yc an. from ever touching a class of wine." The narrator of this touching story m.i ever see it in these columns , but if ho doe r will pardon its publication. It may be imely warning to more than one father, wl 5 by no means a toper, and yet is putting ane-glass right before his own children. i the ready excuse ol many a young lad f< nking a glass ol ehampagne?"Wo alwa; ave it at home." The decanter at hon indies the appetite, which soon seeks tl iriuking saloon. The thoughtless or reckle; i.irent gives the fatal push which sends tl >oy to destruction. Long labor in the temperance reform hi onvinced me that the most effectual way i iromote it is at home. There is the sp fliero the mischief is tc.j often done. The: i the spot to enact a "prohibitory law." L t be written upon the walls of every house Vhere there is a boy there should never be mottle.?Evangolist. ut A TREASURE HOUSE. i0 THE UNITED STATES SCBul TREASURY IN NEW YORK, rs - ? Two-Thirds of tlie Financial Operain 10 lions of the Government Are ve Transacted There?How 3p s Jty Business is Done. id to '"'V WRITER in the ;d J /V\ ^ew York Herald iy / / \ \ 8a^s' ^nc^e Sam's se / / \ \ strong box is situOr '///_ \V\ Wnll Wnc to i/fc ' -vA 8ftU and Pine streete V and is officially er known as the New es York Sub-Treas3" ur^' ^e ftTeraJ?e ?r individual who a 1' passes it. by on ;;J cither of the three jd thoroughfares ie bo 1 ivH thoroughly acor * v quainted with its massive granite 1(* Trails, hugo columns and severely . classic style of Grecian architecture. r" Half way up the long flight of stone k steps which communicates with the _ main entrance in Wall street stands a bronze statue of Washington of heroic ur size, keeping watch and ward, as it were, over tho vast treasure within n- Upon the same site in 1789 and for a score of years later was Federal Hall, n_ standing upon the balcony of which h. tho Father of His Country took the no oath of office as the first President of ? the United States. The building, o, therefore, rests upon historic ground, ld which lends to it a double charm and }? connects the present with the past. Washington no doubt had an abiding i(j faith in the destiny of his country, and ? ? TL ri- r ? l?Lf L_J | ^gg >gS |1^ MAIN FLOOR OP T b, it believed that it would attain an important place among the nations of the earth, bnt never, it is safe to assume, ie did his mind picture the transformations that have come to pass over the to site of the old colonial hall within the brief space which separates his gener? ation from the present. ' men ine counwy wimj emerging ' front the effects of a devastating war and woe without a revenue or public r. credit. Now ita resources are boundlees, and its credit, unshaken by a financial storm, stands pre-eminent among the nations of the earth. , On the site where in 1789 the infant Re: public was launched forth upon an unknown and untraversed sea, without a penny in its coffers, stands its treasure house in which is stored wealth beyond the droams of avarice or the combined fortunes of Croesus of old or Mpnte Cristo of modern times. Within the gray granite walls of the New York Sub-Treasury are transacted two-thirds of the entire financial operations of the United States Government. In 1892, its receipts were $1,259,730,591.30 and its disbursements were $1,'27$, 679,904.24. This would bftYQ shown ^.deficit but for the fact that the Sub-Treasury nad a small balance of $138,072/240.63 left over from !: *. |iT||l||LL||LL|[LL||L(.H it ~ , I?I?? -1 , ? ' r f r r r r r r * ,:jr\ 1" " ly "WHERE THE TREA8TTRT NOTES ARE KEPT. )r the year before, and hence a year ago j. last June, when the balance was struck, is the Government found that it had n stored in its New York treasure house the neat sum of $118,222,977.69 to beF> gin the work of the fiscal year of 1893. ia It is difficult to conceive of one hunld dred and eighteen million and odd jj hundred thousands of dollars in coin e and bills, and yet at the Sub-Treasury ifl this is a trifling amount, and haw freJr quently been exceeded by a hundred e. or two millions more. it The building fairly groans under the "d weight of gold and silver and heaps of copper anil nickel and huge stacks of iy bills. Stored neatly in little steel ii cubby holes, inside huge vaults, them Helves incased 111 metal ami granite, or ' scattered aronml on desks or counters, undergoing 1he process of weighing iy and counting, the building fairly reeks s- with wealth. The very air seems iml0 pregnnted witli an odor of riches. In a one instance this amounts to an emIt barrassmcnt, for in the cane of the sil" ver dollars, forty millions of which ,0 are stored in a series of vaults in the i?> basement, the heavy iron lattice work 53 and huge steel bars are bulging out of 10 plaee under the enormous pressure of as 1200 tons of silver, for $1*000,000 Gf to silver weighs thirty tons, and $40,ot 000,000 is the burden of the vault. ot Under ordinary circumstances the ? Sub-Treasufy handles very little coin, n The metal lays stored away in the vaultB in neat canvas bags, $3000 in o- weagh one containing gold and $1000 in a each bag of silver. At the presont c time, however, all this is changed. The t Government has suspended the issue ? of gold certificates against deposits of e that metal, the free silver dollars are \> exhausted, and only those secured by t silver certificates remain in the vaults; v the Clearing House balances are settled a in actual coin, gold is coming in and f going out, is weighed and counted, and the paseer by in Nassau street at the corner of Pine hears all day long the clink and clatter of metal. j At any time a visit to the Sub- . Treasury is interesting, but it is E particularly so now. Walk up the f i long flight of stone steps leading from B Wall street to the main entrance of c the building any morning after 10 ^ o'clock, pass by the guardian statue of j Washington and between the huge . granite columns which support the projecting roof, and you enter a cool, lofty counting room. Standing at the main entrance between two supporting granite columns similar to those outside, the view is unobstructed to the .fine street, or rear, entrance of the building. Before another step is taken the visitor . becomes at once aware of the over- 0 powering strength and massiveness of e the structure. He has passed throngh v a doorway of solid granite blocks six feet in depth, guarded by an outer c door of huge iron bars, an inner door p of heavy steel plates and a frame door d the projecting rivets in the surface of D which bears testimony that it is metal g sheathed. ft On either side of the entrance is a a room of comfortable proportions. r That on the left, or Nassau street side, d bears the words over the door, "As- g sistant Treasurer," while to the right are the quarters of the Cashier and a Acting Assistant Treasurer. The one c ? k 11 u? " - I. J '4f d l 4 I d Is ?i-i a: BE SUB-TKEA8TJBT. g is occupied by Oonrad N. Jordan, the * other by Maurice L. Muhleman, one of the moat popular, painstaking and . thoroughly efficient Government em- ' ployes in the country. The entire . executive work of the Sub-Treasury? " and it ie vast and multitudinous in de- ? tail?ie transacted within these two P rooms. ] The interior arrangement of the Sub-Treasury is peculiar to the date of its construction. The oeiling of the main room rises in the form of a dome to the extreme height of the building, Q and is supported by granite columns, _ forming a rotunda Four galleries afford a means of communication between the rooms situated at either angle of the building on the second floor, from which can be obtained a bird's-eye view of the clerks at work in three departments on the floor below ?the cashier's, receiving and paying. These, situated on the main floor, are separated by bank counters of wood and partitions of iron, pierced here and tbrere by the familiar pigeonholes of a bank. In fact, the entire appearance of the main room of the SubTreasury suggests the arrangements of a large bank as they existed two score years ago. The departments of the Sub-Treaeury are the cashier's, receiving and paying, which is sub-divided into cash paying and check paying; coin, divided into paying and receiving; minor coin, boBd, coupon, authorities, accounting and superintending. The names of these in most instances amply describe in a general way the nature of the work performed. The duties of the authori- ties department, however, are pe- ri culiar. In it are kept the lists of cor- w poratfons having business relations "V with the Government and the names of g the officials of each who are authorized tl to sign and receipt for checks. In the fi accounting department are kept, in tl " ? > x_ .r Al. ~ I ii addition to tne general accounts oj tuc u Sub-Treasury, the account of the Post Y Office Department, always maintained separately, and the accounts of the disbursing officers of the United States Array and Navy, etc. At the present time the daily bal- . ance in the Sub-Treasury averages 81 about $125,000,000. It runs, how- ^ ever, at times as high as $225,000,000, ' a sum of money of which the ordinary : mind can form no conception. Naturally enough every safeguard is taken ei for the protection of this immense w treasure. The casual observer of the 81 Sub-Treasury building kuow6 full well "? its massive exterior. Its full strength, however, is not apparent until after a n. careful scrutiny of the interior. The Cl building itself was constructed for the purposes of the Custom House in 1832 and used as such until 1862. Strong as it was originally it was, in remodelling, made absolutely impregnable. A board of United States army officers were intrusted with the work, and an it stands to-day it contains many features of a fortress. The walls in the basement are eight feet thick and are built of solid granite blocks. No part of the walls anywhere are less j tbn.ii four feet through. All the partitiouR between the rooms are of masonry. The ceilingH are concrete, all the floors are of stone or metal and the various doors are of steel plate. The treasure is stored in live principal vaults, three of which hold the greater proportion. These are the gold vault, the note vault and the vault in which is stored the silver dollars. The first two are on the main or rotunda floor, while the other is a huge cavern in the cellar of the building. The vaults on the main floor are bombproof and burglar proof and proof against everything else uhort of g \ > general cataclysm. That in the ellar is equally so. The walls of the >uilding forming the sides of the < aults are eight feet thick, and masonry < ncases them on all sides, saving ( Fhere the entrance doors pierce i hrongh. The ceilings of the npper j aults are about twelve feet in height ] nd the dimensions perhaps twelve by j ourteen feet. ] ? ? | A Pest of Western Farms. f To the order of animals known as 1 lodentia, or gnawers, belongs the ( ground squirrel, or gopher, one of tho i tumorous enemies against which the 1 armer has to contend. These pests, 1 ays the New York World, have'beome so destructive that many schemes 1 tave been suggested for their exterm- * nation. The latest report of the Wy CALIFORNIA GROUND SQUIRREL. < { ming Agricultural Station details the e xperimentB undertaken to destroy the arious orders of gophers. The ground squirrels attack root i rops and seeds of all kinds as soon as. ilanted, though they do the greatest am age after the plants have comlenced to grow and are through the Tound. Their burrowing habits are source of annoyance to the farmer, nd greatly injure the land. In this espect gophers resemble the prairie ^ ogs, their burrows being close to- v ether so as to form towns. ^ While the gophers are fond of seeds 8 nd have a particular weakness for -j arrots, sugar beets and roots of all inds, they also attack fruit trees. ' 'he latter suffer so much from their epredations that a California orhardist suggests tying newspapers ^ round the trunks of the trees in such way that when the squirrels attempt 8 o pass over the paper its rattling will ? righten them away. 1 The plan of drowning these pests ut of their burrows has also been ried. But this is a tedious method nd water is not always procurable, trychnine or some other poison mixed 'ith grain has been used with considrable success. But the danger atsndant on thisimethod is great, as bock, poultry and wild birds are as iable to eat the poisoned grain as the quirrels. As the result of a number of expedients, the station advises the use of i-sulphide of carbon. The method of pplying it is to take a ball of cotton bout the size of an egg, thoroughly iturate it with qi-sulphide of oarbon, tirow it into the burrow and close the pening with some earth. The bialphide of carbon evaporates rapidly,, ^ ad being heavier than the air, soon lis the burrow and smothers the 4 juirrels. A pint of the fluid is suf- ' cient to treat twenty burrows. < Bi-sulphide of carbon is good also * )r prairie dogs, rats, ants and any 1 ind of vermin. A caution in its use i, however, necessary. The liquid is ighly inflammable, and should never e brought near fire or any kind of ght for fear of an explosion. An Autumn Bonnet. A stylish little bonnet for autumn i made of velvet with just a touch f gold lace about it. In shape it ie H * ^ tf ither long. The low jrown is covered ith a dark, rich wine-colored velvet, inhere the velvet touches the hair the old lace'appears. Graceful loops of 1 ie velvet and wings decorate the a ont with a gold feathery aigrette in f le center. The tie strings are wider * lan those worn last season.?New s ork World. I i Combinations in Locks. r It has been proved that in a patent * >ck, with an average sized key having (-j x "steps," each capable of being re- ^ uced in height twenty times, the numer of changes will be 86,400 ; further, * lat as the drill-pins and the pipes of ^ le keys may be made of three differ- ' at sizes, the total number of changes ould be 2,592,600. In keys ol tne nallest size the tota] number would ? e 648,000, while in those oi' cxtraorinary size it could be increased to ot less than 7,776,000 different hanges.?St. Louis Republic. tl The Little One's Guardian Angel. b "Aunt, have 1 a guardian angel?" f( "Certainly, my dear. 1 am your y run difta wjgel 1Pliegende Blaetter. a A Hercules Beetle. f The Hercules beetle (Dynaate s Her* mles), one of the largest species of the Uoleoptera or beetle family, is frejuently seen in the cases of the entomologist, but it is seldom that one :s seen alive in New York. Just at present William Beutenmuller,. Professor of Entomology at the National Eistory Museum, has one of the giant jeetles alive, and the huge insect seems to be doing uncommonly well, ia it has a capital appetite. It was jaught in the Island of Dominica and Drought here by a sailor. It is fully six inches long from the tip of the lpper branch of its pincers to the end >f its body. The head is jet black, ind from it grows out a long black iorn, somewhat irregular in shape. , ["he lower surface of this horn is cov;red with deep, gold-colored bristles, vhich no doubt aid in holding whativer the beetle seizes. Another but ihorter horn grows out from the ihorax, and the two form a powerful iair of pincers, with the body Sor a landle, The elytra, or wing covers, are of a lirty dapple gray, while the upper >art of the body is black. There are ,ix powerful legs armed with claws, HKHCDLES KKTOT/K. rhich easily sink into the human flesh, fhile a nip from the pincers is a thing o be remembered, even when the in- V ect has only began to pinch.?New fork Tribnne. Chairing ot the Bard. The Rev. Evan Bees, of Cardiff, k>uth "Wales, won the prize offered for he best poem at the assembly of Welsh ingers in Chicago. . The great event >f the day was the ''chairing of the ard," a historic ceremony inherited rom the ancient Cambrians, which, it b said, had never previously been perormed outside of Great Britain. 8urounding the poet, the bards clasped lands over his bowed head and Hwfe ion, unsheathing a sword, challenged 11 to dispute the rights of the victor. The challenge was given three times by intflrroc&tion. "Is there t>eace?'* Three times the bards and audience .nswered, "Peace." The aword wa? ' hen sheathed over the poet's head, he benediction was pronounced, and he chief bard commanded the poet to eat himself in the oak chair and de- >r tared him to be the most honored Velsh poet of the age.?New York ') Times. v Fish or Sea Serpent? ' The fishing schooner James B. Steton, Captain William Wolfe of Proincetown, brought to T. wharf a fish hat comes nearer, probably, being a ea serpent than anything yet captured. ?he curiosity in question ia about five tAN ODD FISH. ' eet long, and is nearly the same siae >t the tail as at the head. It is slenIcr, not being over seven inches in cirumference at the largest portion of ite ?ody, resembling, save for its fin-tail, . snake. There is a long fin pome ten nches high, running nearly the entire ength of its back. It has a head shaped very much like hat of a boa constrictor, and its teeth xe long and very sharp. One upper ooth is one and one-half inches in <. .?,< engtb, about one-quarter or threeighths of an inch wide, and as sharp s a needle at the point. The jaws are ong and when open in an ordl- I lary position easily reach eight inches part at the end of the nose. The fish is of a bluish colorj The all fins are large, and the two fius unler its jaws are exceptionally largo for kg size, measuring not less than eight nches in length. Ths thing was capured off La Have, Nov*1. Scotia, in 100 athoms of water.?Boston Globe. M The Vision of Birds. Birds have very acute vision; per* laps the most acute of any creature, ,nd the sense is also more widely difused over the retina than is tho case vith man ; consequently a bird can see ideways a3 well as objects in front of t. A biru sees?showing great uneasi* iess in consequence?a hawk long boore it is visible to man ; so, too, fowls nd pigeons find minute scraps of food, listinguishing them from what appear o us exactly similar pieces of earth or javel. ? T7 ? ? olflA flWrt in fin#) -LUUUg UUIUACUO ax KJ OIQV iw*v ??? heir own food?knowing its position ad bow distant it is?as moou as they re hatched, whereas a child only very radually learns either to see or to unerstand the distances of objects. Several birds?apparently the young f all those that ne6t on the ground? an see quite well directly they come nt of the shell, but the young bird? but nest on the trees or on rocks are ^ orn blind and have to be fed. ?Chamers's Journal. According to ancient custom the hieen of England has forwarded to ho Lord Mayor four fat bucks from luskey Park and to the City Sheriff* dree bucks. Thisusage had its origin 1 the times in which the city had ights of hunting in tha royal forests nd parks. Similar presents are mad? i due season in January of each year. In British India the number of perans adhering to the sects of th? Dcient Brahmanic religious belief is stimated at 211,000,000. There are ,000,000 Buddhiats, 90,000 Par sees, 7,000.000 Mahometans, anil 9,000,000 f the ancient Pagans o.- Nature v/oruppers. There is a Japanese student, a bright illow of eighteen years, in the third ear at the United States Naval cademy.