University of South Carolina Libraries
CRUEL j THE GRAVE; -=S=o*==The Secret of DunraYen Castle. i ' _ BY ANNIE ASHMCRE, Author of "Faithful Margaret," Etc., Eto CHAPTER XIV?Continued. When she was nearly down she saw a oat close in shore, with a man standing fcy its bow, doing something with a rope. tThe stormy darkness, added to the shade ?f a clump of water-willows, hid his features from her. but he seemed liko a fentleman, perhaps one of the neighbor- I - ? -*-4? Vvaa** /vrt ficVir f? lug geiibrjr wuy uau uccu vuv uc?i>ir> The skiff was an elegant thing, such as % gentleman might use. Almost delirious with the idea of Acerington's proximity, Loveday galloped close up to him, dropped to the ground, and standing before him, blinded and dazed, gasped out "Will you?will you row me under the bridge and hide me until that person who Is coming pa?ses by?" Even as she was speaking, he was leading the trembling Ahmed round behind the thick trunks of the clump of willows where she stood panting, with drooping neck and heaving sides; he then lifted Loveday lightly into the cushioned stern of the skiff, flung a great white bear skin over her, shoved off; and was aafe hidden under the low stone arch of the bridge, when the horseman thundered overhead, and up the road. Then the skiff shot out into the swift current, and the gentleman plied the oars till they raced between the banks, and in a few minutes were out of sight of bridge and horse. ' f . Loveday had lain just where she was placed in something so nearly like a ewoon that she took no note of anything lor perhaps five minutes. Then she heard the swift brush of the water against the planks, and felt the tremor of each mighty pull of the oars, and lifting her head from the downy cushion, and smoothing back with both languid bands tne clinging maze 01 ner Jjair which had broken loose and fallen over her face, she looked at her deliverer, who faced her not three feet off. It was Col. Accrington himself! The shock was enough to have killed her; quite oblivious of where she was, she started up In the frail boat, uttering scream after scream, so piercing in their heart-rending intensity that they echoed for miles around. Accrington seized her . hy the half-coiled rope of hair which Bwung toward him, and drew her back Just as she was plunging oberboard, clasping her round with an exulting exclamation: "I have you at last, safe, poor frightened darling!" She writhed down from his breast. moaning, and convulsed with horror;? the frail boat rocked in tbo swirling current under their violent motions; he xlasped her again, with all his roused strength, blind to everything bat the capture of his madly coveted love,?he had her safe this time, when over*surged the skiff, and they were struggling in > the water. Even there he held on to her with a grasp like naKod nerve, and the instant they regained the surface he swam with a few vigorous strokes to the boat, which floated near, bottom up, and flung his unoccupied arm over the keel; And thus braced, he could draw her head and shoulders up out of the water, and support her thus. Her sweet deathwhite face drooped on his shoulder, her dear eyes were closed. "Ah! she will escape me yet!" groaned the man, and be uttered a blasphemous curse at the Power which had defeated him after all his plotting. He gazed around the darkening scene; the river rushed in a strong, deep current fcetween two precipitous banks as far as the eye cocld reach; he knew that for miles below the bridge there was no dwelling or chanco of rescue, aDd, although a strong swimmer might have ;made hts way ashore alone, in Accrington's encumbered situation he bad as !much as he could do to keep his com-~!panion above water. p A sortof dark rage took possession of (him; to perish thus was such a lame ^conclusion to what promised to be the most intoxicating love-idyl of his life! Why had he miscalculated the strength !of this timid, de'icate creature's will no contend with him for her freedom? ' Why had he allowed vanity to delude Ihim Into the beliof that because his igaze could fascinate her into a passive jbearing for the moment, she would not .rebound from him with tenfold revulsion when she unexpectedly met him again? ' For his magnamimous submission to "her will at Silverstream had all been a iruse to prevent a scene. He had beguiled her to Silverstream, where nls "skiff was in waiting, hoping for a quick ?nd quiet conclusion to the day's misadventure in an elopement by boat to a remote railway station, by which they might take flight to London, and thus throw off pursuers until the marriage was consummated, when he believed that Mrs. Dellamere's pride would present her from taking further steps to recover her daughter as a minor. Loveday had not been so pliable as he hoped; and he had been obliged to let her start for home alone; but he had already set an obstacle in the way of her return by loosening her mare's shoe with his own hands with an old cavalryman's deftness: and when she started by the .highway, he went the much swifter way by the river, and was -waiting at the bridge long before she appeared; expecting to see her cuite tamed bv the acck ^deTit to her horse, and ready to Jet bim think for her. And here she Jay halfdrowned against hiin, and much more willing to die than run away with him. "It is all that, accursed Crecy!" muttered he venomously; "Laura said that iher heart was engaged." And he curscd the youth with heart and soul. He wondered who the rider had been from whom Loveday was Hying bo frantically; he guessed that she had mistaken Dim lur XilUJSeii. ailu uiumgu a, UIOUIH,!, pang at this proof of her aversion to him. Could it Lave been any One sent on their track? Surely not yet? These thoughts glanced through his Excited brain without distracting it from ns ocnemes to escape rrom tneir peris?uB Bltuaticn. The cold was intense: the bitfer winda furrowed ihe black waters, and a squall of hailstones pattered and splashed about them; dreary as death was the prospect. "Loveday! Loveday!" muttered Accrineton, laying his cheek against her cold white one, as it lay on his shoulder, her long fine hair swathing and binding Ibem together, as it flowed over both fferms Indiscriminately. "How is It yon could not love me when 1 love you so much?" An expression of hope'es;. anguifh came upon his face; he begun to feel that to win this girl to love him, he cou.14.almost try to be worthy of her...^ ' Suddenly a great roar of faTTIng water reached his ear; he gazed wildly around. Not far below he saw a great flour mill near the river, while along the bank, above him, ran a mill-race, which opened on the river by means of a sluice. The sluice was now open, and the waste water from the flume was pouring into the river like a great cataract, stirring the waters Into a boil- ! Tfcg whirlpool, which must Inevitably 1 swamp the skiff and drag the castaways . down to their death. Accrineton caxed in dismay, then j shouted for help till the welkin rang j again. A voice replied, and following Its di- | rection he saw through the slanting i lines of blinding hail the vision of a horse siretcned to tne gallop on the opposite bank of the mill, and its rider' waving his hand to him. The thunder of the machinery<in the mill prevented the workingmen from: hearing anything else. No one came out to shut down the sluice. The steep banks gradually sank to grassy levels, and the horseman was seen leaping the ditch of the roadway and urging his horse down to the brink.. Again and again he wajs about to plunge in to the rescue, but the ever-quickening torrent drew the skiff past him. and he galloped on again. 4 Accrington watched the gallant stran-! ger with hopeless eyes. He did not be- | lieve that a swimming horse could save them from these fierce waters. : At last, having outstripped the skiff | by about fifty yards, the horseman I plunged In and swam his powerful ani-< mal obliquely to the center of the river,, ana sicoa tnere on a sunKen rocs, up to the horse's belly in the water. Amazed to see him stationary, Accrington swept nearer and nearer, doing his best to guide toward the stranger, who shouted directions which were almost lost in the roar of the falling water. . Nearer and nearer the castaways drew, aud now the stranger set his horse broadside toward them, and braced himself for the shock; and Accrinpton tightened his grip of Loveday, and gave the sweet, sweet face a long look, which might be his last. And then the shock came?skiff and clinging forms struck the living barricade, which staggered, and plunged, and then stood firm again under the low command of the rider; the skiff settled against thfe horse, and a pair of eager hands seized Loveday and drew her up clear of the water. Accrington lifted his bloodshot eyes to the rescuer, and saw?Auberon Crecy! "You!" grated Accrington, all his satisfaction poisoned. Auberon did not heed him, he was por ing over ine paie iace 01 .Lioveaay wiw despairing anguish. "Loveday! my Loveday!" be tremblingly besought her; "look up, dear, it is Auberon; you are safe with Auberon! I Have you driven her to her death?" he said to Accrington with sudaen bitter reproach, "is she dead?" Accrington made no reply; but turned with frantic energy to the work of righting the skiff and baling it out, that Bhe might be taken ashore as soon as possible. He had obtained foothold on .the flat rock, which Auberon had detected in the channel by the peculiar run of the water over it. He it was who had pursued poor Loveday, having traced them to Silverstream, and learned that she had started for home alone; he had lost the sound of her horse's feet soon after crossing the bridge, and while retracing the way had heard Loveday's cries when the first recognized I Accrington; guided by the sound he had struck off the highroad through a horse path on the river bank, and had soon caught up with the skiff turned bottom up, and accompanied it, in search of a place where he mif?ht enter the stream. "Unless we can make the men hear, and shut down the sluice, there is little hope that any one of us wiil get safely ashore," said Auberon, who was wrapping the chilled form of Loveday in his own overcoat, and forcing some sherry between her lips from his hunting flask. "My horse is almost done, and yonder whirlpool dratrs us towards it at racing ?nitn Aiir vnlooo anH SJJCtU. Tt O UiUOV uuito vu? tviWM U11M 6hout for help" Accrington drew forth his own hnnting flask, which wa9 filled with more potent stimulant than the inDocent Auberon's, and handed it up, eayhiR anxiously, "Try the brandy; it's best. If I could only have got at it before she would not be so far gone, but I dared not loosen my hold of the boat. She is chilled to death, I fear; she is not drowned, oh, no, she only went down once and I had her up instantly. Chafe her temples with the spirit, and her hands. When the boat is dry we might wrap her up and lay her In the bottom." Thus planning and working for Loveday; all animosity for the time was dropped; and they shouted simultaneously, and consulted with each other with odd unanimity of purpose; though - '' * v a milma a tvi a kaflatvt At thnm aam illJ Lilt: wuiic at tuc u: hijvh vuu~ , sciousness lay a passionate doubt on Auberon's side, and on Accrington's, a fierce unscrupulous jealousy. Suddenly Loveday revived, and opened her eyes on the dreary scene, half obscured by night now; two slender hands clasped her, two strong arms held her to a wildly beating heart; water all around, and a fierce roar in her ears. Where was she? Then Auberon's beautiful eyes looked into hers; his pa'e lips smiled pently; shy felt the-encircling arms gather her up more tiphtly to the bounding heart. "Loveday! my own love:" whispered Anberon; "are you not. are you not?" A wild thrill ran through the maiden's bosom; her eyes looked into his eyes strangely, solemnly; heaven and earth, and all that in them are, were quite forgotten by the two * "Sweet, say you love me, or I shall die!" whispered Auberon, in daintiest accents, his warm velvet lips on her cheek, and the friendly dusk concealing them from the busy Accrington. "Say it, darling." Sbfi lay in his arms," a wonderful heavenly smile growing and growing 2J?d growine in her eyes. "Love!" she murmured: one honeysweet note, made for his ear alone, in effably expressive. Auberon stopped quick, and k!s?ed the lips that uttered that delicor.8 word; and kissed them again; this time a long close kiss, during which the two spirits rushtd together and wore knitted in that sweet bond that Death even cannot unloose "No one shall part us now!" said he, solemnly. "Thank God you are mine!" "No one shall part us!" echoed she, with sweot dazed joy in her voice. Ajvrinirtnn heard that voice, and started round to gaze, bis haggard face afoot apart from hers. She lecoiled with a violent shock; everything rushed back upon her, she looked and comprehended all. "You are better now, beloved?" said Accrington, distinctly, having resolved upon his course?that of compromising her with himself as much as possible. "Permit me now, Mr. Crecy, to lay her In the boat; she Is ray care now, I am proud to say," and he laid hold on her to draw her from Auberon's arms. Without a word Loveday clung convulsively to Auberon, who struck off Accrington's hands, saying, sternly: "You claim too much, sir; respect the lady's will, if you please Miss Deliamere was placed in my charge by her 1 mother, and I shall relinquish her to none!" "And I shall permit none to meddle between my betrothed wife and me."' re " ? lorted Accrlngton; "least of all yon, sir, who are eitber playing with another lady's heart or with hers." Auberon felt Loveday wince at that, and cried, indignantly: "That Is false, Col. Accrington. I have no love, if this he not she." "Tate me home to mamma?I want to be with her, I belong to no one else, yet!" said Loveday, in sudden overwhelming shame, and shrinking as far from Auberon as his encircling arms would permit. "That is true, and it's shameful for us to be wrangling over you instead of saving your life," said Auberon, penitently. "Come, Colonel, a trnce to pri? vate animosities; let us get out of this." I Accrington's look was dam enough to Justify the suspicion that he would almost prefer to perish where he was, providing bis two companions in danger | perished with him, rather than escape to see his love carried off from his arms by his rival. But he gnawed his lip in silence and possessed his raging soul. The two men raised a loud shout once more; and probably because they were somewhat revived by their brief rest, uneasy though it was, their cry was ! stronger, and reached, at last, the preoccupied ears of the miller and his men. A figure or two came dimly into view on the bank, there wa9 a sudden hallooing and running: the sluice was dropped; and in a momeut the foaming whirlpool was as a mirror, with the normal cur* Mrt. (iimnHnff alnncr its midst. men the rivals put Loveday Into a skiff, and the oars being lost, Auberon ewam bis horse ahead, while he held the painter, and Accrlngton swam by the stern, guiding her course. The current swept them still further down tho river, but they landed In safety on the mill bank, among ?n astonished crowd oi men and boys. Brief were the explanations mads while the half-frozen lady was being carried to the miller's house on Auberon's horse, supported on either side by a rival. Accrington was the explainer; being in the diplomatic line he felt quit* at home as an improvisator. The three bad started out with the Salford Hunt, he said; the lady's horse [ got lamed and they tried a boat to tho * railway station, and got capsized by accident. He deigned no fine links to perfect the probability of the tale; and the honest rustics, though much puzzled tc account for some of the facts, thought it was all right, only they had not heard clearly. It was nightfall when they entered the wide, bright kitchen of Miller Grover's substantia! stone cottage; Auberon loading in the tottering figure of Miss ueuamere on nis arm, wane Acuringi>ua hovered around ho.r with a distinctly possessive air, though, in truth, he dared not touch her. "Hot blankets and a hot bath, as quick as yon can, my good mother," bustled he to the mistress of the cottage, who came forward with kindly ejaculations of concern; and he it was who ordered round, expressed unbounded anxiety, and showed the greatest distress about the pale exhausted lady; while Auberon only pressed close to her, and held her trembling hand under cover of fee* wraDS; and wrung the water out of her long, long hair?at which his rival turned white with envy! "It's easy to be seen which is lovei and which is 'the brother," observed Mrs. Grover, nodding sagaciously, as she and her red-cheeked daughter Betty Btripped the bed in the "best chamber* for the young lady. "The oldest one is half out of his mind aboux her, while the brother takes it easy enough." "I don't Know, mother," objected Betty, with a conscious look, "the youneest one stands closest to her, and looks at her the whole time as if he could fairly eat her." And doubtless, JbSetty being younger, naci more recent experience of love affairs than had hei mother. When Lovcday was .iust going to the bed-room the eood people had prepared for her, she brought both gentlemen to her with a glance. "I am quite safe here for to-night," said she, looking down, "and I know how much mamma will be suffering on my account; will you both go home and tell her the who!e story? Both; I mean it " Accrington ground his te-th- in bittei chagrin. Well he knew why she would send them both away from her?she trusted in Auberon, and set him as a guard over himself, lest he should come back to her before she could return tc her home. But he cnoked down his emotion, and promised all she wished. Auberon, too. cneeriuny propnesiea mat tney wouia be' at the Pavilion before dawn; that "Ahmed* should be searched /or and re. 6tored to her stable, and everything else that was comforting. Then, the rivals bade her good night, sot daring to tako hand since she seemed so shy and unresponsive; and she shut the rough door between herself and them. So after having borrowed dry clothes from honest Grover, and eaten supper, the pair .cet forth for Salford In the miller's tax-cart, driven by Grover junior, and reached the Pavilion without adj| venture. CHATTER XV. MARRIAGE SHALL SAVE HER, BUT ] SHALL UK THE BRIDEGROOM." "You have come at last!" exclaimed Lord Inchcape, with brightening eye, a8 Edgar Arden hastened into his presence. Immediately upon his arrival from the north. "My dear boy, never were you more Deeded at the Fossa: I would have cummnnen von nome naa l anv mKlluff of your whereabouts." Edgar thought his kinsman more worn and melancholly looking than before; and regarded him with such new perceptions of his secret wretchedness that he read in every lin? of his gloomy face a revelation of the past. He had traveled straight from Scotland, and chanced to h?,ve arrived on the morning of tbe^hunt; he was astonished when the servants announced to him that he would find his lordship at home, for hunting was Inchcape's one pleasure, and he was seldom absent from the meet. "And why am I particularly welcome to day, my lord?" asked tlie young heir, seating himself in the chair before Lord Incluape's, as he was desired. With suppressed bitterness, Inchcape told him that a powerful candidate had appeared to contest tho borough with him. "lie has bought a castle and & wide domain," said Inchcape; "he has a numerous tenantry, and can command great interests in Salford Archerfiold is bis kinsman and supnorter. and his friends will be legion, no doubt. He has been indefatigable in conciliating the people, and he is far more popular to-day, stran^ ger though he be. than you are. But then, my boy has not learned the art of beguiling men through their weaknesses, which is the favorite policy of Richard Accrington." "It is Richard Accrington!" cried Edgar, springing to his feet?"here, at I the very door! Glorious news!" | His eyes were sparkling with joy; the miscreant, lor whom he had eipecteu to search to the ends of the earth, was here, within his grasp. "What do you lcnow of that man?" demanded Lord Inchcape, amazedly. "I know that he is your evil genius', ; my lord?that he has been the curse of Inchcape. Dear kinsman," said Edgar, respectfully, "I would never have presumed to peer into your past afflictions had not accident thrown me strangely foio ft eflnat.'on where I learned alT, fa* voluntarily," Dark grew the proud Earl's brow. He gazed upon the unwelcome discoverer of his disgrace with painful earnestness. Edgar then narrated the circumstances which had cast him upon Sleatna-Vrecken; his recognition of Dunraven Tower as one of Lord Inchcape's properties which he had seen in the chart; his amazement upon discovering a young and lovely Lady Dunraven, and his inevitable identification of her. And as he detailed this portion of his life at Sleatr na-Vrecken, when he lay sick and helpless, visited daily by that gentle, melancholy lady?how tenderly he portrayed her in her pining sorrow, and described the unutterable eloquence of her patient suffering, which pleaded with him day by day to deliver her from her undeserved misery! "Without one word from her, all that was most honorable in my manhood rose up within me to tight her battles," said Edgar, watching with eager hope tho shifting expressions of the nobleman's countenance. "And then, was I not her kinsman, bound to her cause by the >?ry accident that revealed her to me?' "Ah!"~muttercd Lord Inchcape, rising from his chair to lean upon the chimney* piece and burv his face in his hands. Edgar told of his conva escence, of his grief at witnessing Lady Inchcape's incurable melancholy; and as he pictured her spirit-like pallor and the febrile gleam of her hollow eyes which never smiled Lord Inchcape stifled a choking sigh. He told how he had prayed her to make him her friend, and how at last she had trusted in him, and given him the written story of her misfortune. "And when I had read it," continued he, with thrilling earnestness, "I saw that these past five years of miserable estrangement between my loved Lord Inchcape and his lady had been utterly causeless." "Ah, generous young heart; 'tis but natural that you should think so!" exclaimed Lord Inchcape, hoarsely; "but what will cast out fell suspicion from my heart? I would give my life to believe!" Edgar spread the manuscript before him. "You will believe when you have read this!" exclaimed he, with sparkling eye; "and *.hen I shall prove my lady:s truth." "Can you Qo mat?" "Ye?, I am sure I can! But first I n 4 nclr Will mil cnmmftn liavc tfc t a> v v/i vu aorv. ?i in juu uuiuiuvu .Mr. Sircombe nere upon a matter of business?" Lord Inchcape dispatched a telegram Instantly. Edgar explained that be had not avowed his identity, consequenty that Mr. Sircombe would,come to Inchcape Fosse utterly unsuspicious of his presence there; and that through this surprise he hoped to wring the truth from his lips. He did not choose to reveal to Lord Inchcape the attempt which Mr. Sircombe had made on his life: ho was keeping that as a secret by which he might influence Sircombe. Lord Inchcape's hands trembled as he turned over the many pages written in her own defense by his once idolized Engelonda; the harsh and saturnine expression of his face melted away; unspeakable anguish and tender, pining regret looked from his fixed and dreaming eyes. Edgar turned away that he might not Bpy upon the proud heart's softened mood; his own eyes were wet, his own heart swelled with tender hope. At length he heard Inchcape dash down the unread papers, with a grating laugh. "Fool!" be muttered, beginning to pace the floor restlessly; "to think that I should ever again dream of happiness ?r love; I, whose name is a mark for icorn *brough a traitor's falsehood!" "You mean Accrington!" Interrupted Edcar. eaeerlv. "And Aecrinsrton i9 here, within my reach. He shall confess. " Inchcape grasped his hand and wrung It, while his eyes glistened. "You know all then, my boy; and you believe in my integrity?" faltered he. "Yes, my lord; your wife has told mo the story?taught me how utterly guiltless you were. Ah, my iord, when you read what she has written, you will do her the same justice which she does you." [TO BE CONTIJTJED.J SLAUCHTERlNC HORSES FOR EUROPE. Three Indiana Plants Utilizing the Former Street-Car Motive Power. Three slaughter-houses for the killing of horses aretn operation in Indiana. A lot of 200 horses sold at the Chicago 8tock Yards recently were driven to the abattoirs, which are not operated in defiance of the law, because none of the meat is sold in this country. It is shipped to Belgium, France and other countries of Europe, where there is always a ready market for it. The horses that are sold one day are killed the next and cut up, pickled and packed in tubs ready to ship to Europe. They also manufacture sausage from the meat. The hides and the parts of the horse used for glue bring more than the original cost of the horse. This industry has grown of late on account of the number of cheap horses placed on the market by the streetcar companu'.0. JAPAN'S ARMY CHAPLAINS. Native Christiana to Be Employed for the First Time in That Capacity. The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions has received from Hiroshima, the military headquarters of Japan, a statement which shows that for the first time in history a pagan Nation has authorized the employment oi native Christians of the evangelical type as army chaplains. Ten missionaries and sixteen Japanese workers have been designated for the special work for soldiers at Hiroshima. The local committee has obtained permission to send a number of Japanese evangelists to the front as Christian workers for the army. This service may be sustained as long as the war continues. It is the first permission of the kind obtained by Japanese Christians and marks an epoch in tne progress of Christians in Japan. INCOME TAX IN PRUSSIA. Over Two-Thirds of the Citizens Exempted by the 8214 Limit. Prussia's income tax last year yielded $29,043,084. Every income above $214 is taxed, and of 30,387,331 persons scheduled 21,233,024 were exempted because their in come was less than ?214 or because they were foreigners. So the tax was paid by 2.520,930 taxpayers, of whom 1922 were societies or corporations. the latter paying $1,845.272. In the cities each taxpayer paid for 3.18 persons, while in the country he represented 4.26 individuals. The average income in Prussia of persons above the minimum of $214 was $634.06 in cities and $422.57 in the country, the general average beinff $746.56. Of the total tax the cities paid $27,196,811 and the country $7,102,097. The amoaut of tax of each taxpayer averaged 2.15 per cent, in the cities and 1.61 in the counti^ Opening the Baltic Canal. The opening of the Baltic and North Sea Canal is set for. the latter part of June with a great parade of warships and other ceremonies. From 4000 to 8000 men have been ! at work since 1887 building the canal from Kiel on the Baltic to connect with the Elbe below Hamburg. Sultan Bar* Gladstone Portrait*. The Sultan of Turkey has forbidden the sale or exhibition of portraits of Mr. Gladstone or Professor Bryce in Constantinople. Copies of portraits sent to the Armenian alergy have been seized as "seditious literature.-' rracticed Medicine Sixty-two Tear*. Dr. W. G. Sampson, Sr.. died in Tiffin, Ohio, in his ninetv-third year. He practiced medicine in Wyandotte and adjoining counties for sixty-two years, and for fifteen years practiced among the Wyandotte Indians. A DOG-OF WAR. CHINCHI CONSPICUOUS IN THE BATTLE OF FORT ARTHUR. A Queer Little Animal Found by a Correspondent Guarding the Body of Her Slain MasterBrought to New York. ITT? n A w-?/-vi-? r\( PViiw V*i 4V> a ||| J I, u auvcuvuigo ui vuiutuj| i>ug I , long-nosed, squirrel-tailed, J human-eyed pug who was 6 found guarding her dead master's body in the outworks of Port Arthur, are, according to the New York Advertiser, becoming matters of international importance. The Emperor of Japan has ordered the incident recorded in the "Book of War." Chinchi has already become know to Londoners through pictures in the Graphic, and in New York to-day she has been the topic of conversation. This is the history of Chinchi: The battle of Port Arthur was fought November 21, 1894. Among the correspondents who were on the field was A. B. de Guerville, of the New York Herald and Frank Leslie's Weekly. With him was a Japanese AFrER TH photographer, sent otit to take snapshots for the artist of the London Graphic, who didn't like the noise. Field Marshal Oyama had jnst ordered a battery forward a bit, and the correspondent followed. As they moved forward and took position on the crest of a hill, overlooking Port Arthur, they saw a man lying on his side in a little hollow of the hill. Hie * 11 i - i _ Jit v 1 neau naa Deen crusnea id, ana ne naa evidently been dead for many hours. They knew him for a Chineee soldier in spite of the fact that he wore civilian clothes. "The Chinese officers and* men alike," explained Mr. de Guerville, "threw away their uniforms and weapons when defeated." The dead Chinaman had probably been an officer, or at all events, an official of some rank. Just behind where he lay was a tent, which had been looted. Nestled up against his breast, in a fold of his dead arm, lay the little dog. She looked up and growled as they approached. Field Marshal Ovama and his staff, the correspondents and all, forgot all about the battle raging down the hill, and gathered round the dead Chinaman and the dog. The French military attache, Dr. Labry, tried to pick her up, but Chinchi snapped at his hand and he jumped back. They all took a turn at trying to pacify her, Chinchi clung to her dead master and refused to be cajoled or frightened. While this was going on Mr. de Guer THE PORT . ville told the Chinese photographer to take a snap shot of the scene. The picture which appeared in the London Graphic, is reproduced here. Field Marshal Oyama, however, had no time for sentiment; he wanted a telescope for watching the maneuvers of the Chinese fleet erected near the 6pot, where the dead officer. and his faithful little dog lay, and ordered a couple of coolies to remove the corpse. One of the coolies crabbed the dead man's arm and Chinchi caught him savageiy by the leg. He kicked her away and drew hie sword to kill her. At this moment Mr. de Guerville thrust the coolie aside ana snapped up the dog. She snapped at his hands and wailed as though she were heartbroken. He wrapped her in his coat and gave her to his Japanese servant. When jVIr. de Guerville got back to his tent that evening he found his Japanese servant and the 6mall dog. It was a long time before he could make friends with her. She mourned for her dead muster and refused to be comforted. Finally he persuaded her to drink a little milk, but it was a lmfnro clio wan nvcr hpr fpflr nf the "white devil." She had never seen a foreigner before. She didn't know what to make of a man without a pigtail, who wore breeches instead of petticoats and after they got a bit better acquainted she used to sit and watch him by the hour, with a mixture of friendliness and contempt. They warit honfc in .Tanan t,o<rfithpr nn nnp of the troop ships. She had been named Chinchi, whioh in Chinese means Faithful. She readily learned her name. On the troop ship was a great deal of the loot of Port Arthur, including two camelB and a lot of strange birds which were destined for the Emperor. The Japanese officers tried to persuade Chinchi's owner to present her to Hie Majesty, who had heard the'story of the dog who was faithful unto death. Mr. de Guerville thought he would keep the dog, but promised, if Chinchi ever decided to go in for a life of t matrimony, to send back one of her ' offspring. And so Chinchi came to America. By the time she reached Vancouver she was on terms of intimacy with the "white devils," and did not mind them much, but when she got to the hotel a negro porter, black as the ace of spades, suddenly appeared in her room. Chinchi nearly had a fit. Life was becoming altogether too cosmopolitan for her. What with "white devils" and "black devils" she didn't know what to make of it. The day before they left Vancouver she and her new master went out for a walk. All of a sudden Chinchi set up a wild yell and vanished round a corner. Mr. da (rnerville followed and saw her cutting along the street, her squirrel tail waving in the wind, while far ahead pattered a little, long queued Chinaman in a purple blouse. When she got near the Chinaman < turned and faced her. She looked at < him for a moment and then, howling dismally, ran back to her new master. E BOMBARDMENT?FAITHFUL UN] She hcwled and moaned all afternoon and during the night when he woke he could hear her sobbing softly on her pillow. Mr. de Guerville says she was thinking of her .dead master, ' the Chinaman who lay oat on the hills by Port Arthur, over whom she had . watched so faithfully. Mr. de Guerville, who had traveled for a number of years in the East, has fitted up one of his apartments in the j Chinese fashion, and among the red 1 and yellow screens, hangings, vases and idols Chinchi felt at home. On < her journey, however, she had con- i traoted a cold, which developed into a serious attack of the grip. Her master, who is a bachelor, felt that she, : needed a woman's care and sent her-to the house of a friend in West Seventy- i second street, where she recovered. Chinchi is ten inches long and short legged. She has long ears, a tail like a squirrel, a face like a fox terrier? 1 with a hint of the snubbiness of a : spaniel?and her soft hair is white and brown in beautiful markings, ner eyes are large and tender, and re- 1 markably intelligent. Indeed, she is : an extraordinary dog, and would be 1 noteworthy anywhere, even had she not proved herself a heroine?a loyal little friend, faithful unto death. aho is about two years and a half old. As < far as known, she is the only dog of ] her kind in this country. Even in China the breed is only seen in the ; houses of mandarins, and they are i very valuable dogs of long pedigree. ; The only ones kncwn to be in Europe "SK. rf : ARTHUR DOG. are three which were sent to London a few years ago by the English Minis- ' ter to China. Chinchi has fine quarters, and le as happy as a lady-dog with such a "past" can be. Her only grief is when in her walks abroad she meets a Chinaman. The common laundrymen she hardly notices, but the other day she met one of the attaches of the CodsuI's office, and whether | she thought he was her old master i or the meeting recalled the old days to her, she was very unhappy that night. Her master thinkn ^he reI called the night she spent by her dead j master's side, there on the bills above JPort Artiiur, wmie tilts aerear.ea i i Chinese troops hurried past, and the : noise of battle roared seaward. And j I whenever the little heroine re- I J members those cold and lonely hours, when she lay there guarding the dead Chinese oflicer whom all his friends : and soldiers had deserted, she crawls j into a corner and sobs like a woman. ! Chinchi has a right to be numbered among the famous dogs of history. She ha6 had wonderful adventures. The little brown and white spaniel [ was the special feature of the lecture which Mr. de Guerville delivered in j the Madison Square Garden Concert ! Hall, New York. It was carried on I the stage by the lecturer, and was re' with tumultuous applause for ' its fidelity to the dead Chinaman in I'/ar away Port Arthur. 1 An Otld Gold Jiuffsret. There is on exhibition in Lumpkin j County, Georgia, a large and beauti; ful piece of gold in the shape of a leg! less duck. It was purchased from a man who fouud it a few years ago I while mining, on theChestateo River, near Dahlonega.? Chicago Timesi Herald. I Krrt lady of Franc*. I ..J France's tanner President wa? bornj ^ under a lucky star, and nothing in his MADAJIE FAUP.E. sventfnl life waa luckier than his win- .'?/ ning of Mile. Marie-Mafchilde Bellnot, j who became Mrs. Faure on July 10, rv? TYF. ATFT ' 1865. She was a niece of Senator * ^ Guinot, of Araboise, in the Department of Indre et Loire, and it was in that pretty town that he saw and fell in love with her. She was not only one of the belles of djejag A.mboise, but was celebrated for her /. "j wit, her grace and her perfect manners, all of which have brought her farther renown in her trying situation1 as "first lady of the Republic." Mme. ' Faure has presented her hosband with* ^ two charming daughters, the youngerf of whom is, the wife of Conseiller-Gen-, eral Berge, of the Seine Inferieure.i The elder, Mile. Lucie, is as bright as! her mother, and often acts as her 1.\' father's secretary. She has a talent for verses, and shares with Mme. Bergej a talent for entertaining that ha* 'X'M: brought back all the old life andgayetj, ]?? to the Elysee receptions. The home of the Fauresat Havre ie' on the Boulevard Maritime, command-; ' Y0. ing a superb view of the sea snd! boasting'a beautiful garden. It stands next to the Yilla Marie-Christine, ? owned by the Queen of Spain, and . . near the Sainte-Addresse villa, built' by Sarah Bernhardt. Poe's Cottage at Fordham. . - ^ The little story-and-a-half white cottage on Kingsbridge road, Fordham, a few hundred feet above the junction of Highbridge road, where ' ^4 Edgar Allan Poe lived and wrote, has. > ^ once more changed hantts. Joha Ross has sold it to Edward Chauvet, a den- ty/M tist of Kingsbridge road, for Austin , E. Ford, the editor of the Freeman's ^j? Journal, who ha? owned it since 1890, THE POET'S COTTAGE. . Mr. Ford expected to diapoge of the cottage to a syndicate that would preserve find treasure it as a relic, but he ^ was disappointed, and at length . I placed it in the market. It lay va- * cant for months. Hundreds called for the key at Mr. Ross's office and after going through the cottage once occupied by the author of "The Raven," went away with everything portable as souvenirs, aud always with ' f the key. Mr. Haffen'a new map of the Annexed District, which calls for the , f[ widening of Kingsbridge road, takes away three-quarters of the house, and Dr. Chauvet will move it back to the >.'?j rear of the lot and use it for an office. -New York World. " f JM?iiA P<iwnhrnfcpr_ "JUUgV o JDIVlUUVUVft w*v * ^ |/j '5 t #