The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, April 17, 1895, Image 2
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
#