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If J CiEOROE^^/SSSII#^<3^" V^' CHAPTER VIIL [continued.] It was an open window that looked out on a private court, that ended at Merwyn stables. Against it stood a ladder. When last he had stood at that window, it was closely shut, and the ladder was certainly not there. Its presence now perplexed and worried the schemer. "Perhaps the officers put it there in tryinp to pet in,'' reflected Dacre, but uneasily. "At all events. Flora frst. I'll release her, and force the rear door." He approached the vault. Its combi nation was familiar to mm. /v mere mechanical twirl of the linger?, and the tumblers clicked. He swung back the the ponderous door and glanced within, deciding that his prisoner was still insensible, for all was silent Then, a great hollow cry rang from his lips, for, peering into the gruesome void, he made a marvelous, a bewildering discovery. The vault was empty?the banker's daughter was not there! r.v CH AITJLK IX. WHITHER? i * "Gone." Arnold Dacre recoiled from the vault door of the Bank with that word gaspingly uttered, with heart and soul bewildered and benumbed by the startling" discovery of the moment. Gone?vanished?disappeared! What Hid it mpnn? What could it mean, but treacberv, or providence! Securely shut In he had left Flora Merwyu. The massive door had been doubly locked. How had she penetrated that barrier, or, rather whose hand had liberated her? Certainly not that of the Sheriff or his guards. Tbey had not visited the room ?ince he had left the bank for the Court. Wharton? A fierce, passionate rape burned in the plotter's bosom at the suggestion of that thought. Had his hireling relented? "Would he turn craven at a critical moment? What more natural than that, under the stress of consciencestricken misery, he had stolen back to the bank, rescued the imprisoned Flora, restored the stolen fortune, and washed his hands nf thfi entire affair bv SDeedy, precipitate flight? With a cry of ungovernable anger, Arnold Daere made a bound for the door, as if to overtake and punish his treacb erous subordinate at once. Thep he halted abruptlv. "Dolt, idiot that I am!" he ejaculated. "Why it could not have been Wharton. He does not even know the combination of the lock." The decision was a momentary relief, but this emotion speedily gave way to a new and far more intense dread. If not Wharton, who? Only the dead banker and himself knew the combination, only they had power to enter the vault. Vainly the .scheme worried his brain for some solution to the overwhelming mystery of the moment. Speculation, theory, dread, doubt, anxiety ran riot in his haunted mind. Then, with a sickening conviction that somewhere along the line of his well-laid plans a broken link bad been unRarded, be lerttne room and the bank, and proceeding around the square, rung at the front door of the banker's dwelling. Flora had escaped. Flora had been rescued. Flora was free! Wnat would that mean to him? Strongly entrenched behind a carefully-erected fortification, propped up with fraud, foruery, and cunning, he did not so much dread a battle with a penniless orphan. He could set down any public accusation she might make as the ravines of a distracted mind, as the natural en* deavor of a daughter seeking to cast the blame due her father upon some one else. But a vacuo intimation told him that the hand which had liberated her was a friendly hand, that a hidden, secret foe, whose identity he could not even surmise, had appeared to disturb his well-laid projects. An enemy in the dark?what latent power to unmask, betray, and punish, might not this first act of antagonism predicate! The old housekeeper answered his summons. Her nervous, hysterical manner made her greeting almost incoherent. fTHw* woo /iooH OH/1 VlftM HoH flic. X UC uvuu uuu ?. IW? w uwu s*>w appeared. With stern-harshness the cashier subdued her agitation. ~ v,Speak!'rhe ordered. "Where is Miss Merwyn?" "She left the house for the bank,hours <jince. I have not seen her. She has Dot returned. 1 went through the covered passage way and called her. but tne door leading into the bank is locked." The open window?the ladder! Dacre decided that Flora had not returned or been brought to the Bouse. Where, then? He went around into the little court. It had but one entrance ? from the stable. Rarely used, the tiles were moldy and covered with dust, and a disturbed path showed leading from the bottom of the ladder to the carriage house. "Ah! what is this?" Dacre uttered the startled ejaculation with a movement toward an object lying on the ground, it was a lace- collar, and the pin that had held it in place bore the intelligent initial "F." "Flora came this way," he decided, "or was brought this way. Yes," his heart sinking, "here are the marks of tour feet. Why! the carriage and the two gray horses are gone." The discovery threw new light upon the subiect The iuvestieation of the ensuing half-hour verified the growing dread in his mind, that the mysterious disappearance of tho banker's daughter was due to a rescue, and that, whoever her protector, her subsequent safety and retirement from the proximity of enemies had been well looked after. For, coming out upon the street, Dacre had not questioned half-a-dozen people, before be fcyu.d one fully able to answer his anxious leadine questions?had they seen anything of Mr. Merwyn's close carriage? "I did. confidently announced one ox a croup. "When?where?" demanded the eager questioner. "Making for the river road, just at the edge of the village, just before noon." "You are sure?" "Don't I know the horses? Didn't I see Merwyn's initial on the door? Tho * inside curtains were all drawn, but 1 got a sight as the wind wafted one aside. Plain as I see vou now T saw Flora IVIerwyn lying back ainonc the cushions. J suppose she's making off with what her thieving old father didn't steal from the bank." Dacrc passed the unjust insinuation by unheeded. That phase of the case would help his own side of affairs. Prejudice for Flora would militate against any effort she made to accuse her lather's cashier of crime. "And the driver?'' he queried sharply. "Oh, him! lie had on a great coat, and a slouch hat drawn down well over his eyes, and drove so fast I could not make him out." Arnold Dacre turned from the spot with darkening brows. Who was the J ' / RWYNS' FORTUNE. mysterious coachman?this strange un- i known who possessed ihe secrets of the bank, who knew just bow and wlien tc i act in the interests of the dead banker's | daughter? Whither had he removed the ! one living witness to the crime of the cashier? In an agony of suspense, Dacre hurried to the nearest livery stable. He ordered Its swiftest horse, and once mounted dashed down the road that led to the city like one mad. At ever? road tavern and farm house he baited?of svery passing pedestrian he made the in:essant inquiry?had they seen a close :arriage and team of grays? No. was the invariable reply. Once free of the town, the flying vehicle and its occupants had disappeared as effectually as though the earth had opened and swallowed them up. A man, making slow, limping progress with the aid of a cane, shambled out of the horseman's way as he dashed past at break-neck speed. It was John Wharton's pensioner, the paralytic, Tom Cupples, bent an his mission of secrecy. He stared strangely at Dacre: he was about to call alter him, but he remembered orders, and plodded on. The excited schemer little dreamed that the toiling cripple ...k<-im Vi harplv bestowed a \ipuu "UUU1 uw Aauv. V., ? , glance, was bearing away to biding the ! precious packet be had entrusted to the | keeping of the old bank clerk, only a | few hours agone. CHAPTER X. THE UXKXOWX. The shades of night were falling as ! Arnold Dacre, an anxious disappointed i man, turned his horse's bead homewards J once more. The lone arduous quest had been vain. ! Here a hint, there a'.trace of vehicle and j occupants, but only a bint, barely a j trace?clues indefinite, unreliable, which, followed up. led to nothing. "I give it up!" he muttered grimly, and with savage energy. "They have not gone citywards. West lje the forests, the scattered settlements, and It would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack to seek them there. One consolation is afforded me, however: Flora Merwyn's mysterious menu seeui> mure vj a jjiutector than a champion. Were ho cognizant of the true state of affairs, and intending to unmask or fight me, he would have pone straightway to the city, to the lawyers. Instead, they are j in hiding. That evidences fear, and i affords me time to penetrate their obscurity later on. To-morrow I will resume the hunt more thoroughly and systematically. For the present, important | issues demand careful attention." He was wearied as he drove into the little town. He went straight to his lodgings. While he ate a rejuvenating meal, he listened to the g09sip of his landlady. Her tittle-tattle showed that affairs were progressing in full accordance with his well-laid cherished plans. The banker's body had been removed to his home, and prepared for interment. An inquest had been held, but ; the identity of the assassin had not been established. Meantime a duputy sheriff ; guarded the bank, and the quieted mob relied on judicial interference to give tbern their rights eventually, i/ne me- ; ory had got abroad that Abel Merwyn bad been a sly, scheming scouudrel, instead of the man of probity and unselfish public spirit he had been adjudged. Meditating wholesale robbery, adverse speculation had swept his illgotten gains away. It was rumored tbat the failure had nearly killed old John Wharton, and that the only person who j had striven to save enough from the wreck to pay the beggard deposits, was Arnold Dacre, who had remained at his post of duty like a hero. Dacre smiled complacently at the intelligence. Then, in the shadows of ! dusk, he stole towards the dead banker's mansion. It was silent, solemn, and gloomy. He I meditated a brief call upon the housekeeper?he would venture an inquiry regarding any possible word she might have obtained concerning the missing TTInrQ. Just about to go up the front steps of the house, however, Dacro started violently, and strained his uncertain Raze towards the street acain. " "it Is hot possible," he ejaculated, focibly. At the curb stood a conveyance?a i close carriage. Attached to it, untied, . droopine, covered with foam, jaided, ' worn out, were two grey horses. It was the Merwyn turn-out, the self I same team that had so mysteriously left I the stable eight hours previous. "What does it mean?" Uttering the query vaguely, Arnold ; Dacre ran excitedly to the side of the j vehicle. There was no driver in the seat, ; He pulled open a side door. The vehicle contained no passenger. "Oh! Mr. Dacre." He turned sharply at the words. They ' were spoken by the housekeeper, who. a handkerchief held hysterically to her j eyes, stood on the covered side porch re- I carding him. "Oh! it is vou?" murmured Dacre. "Tell ! me?Miss Merwyn, Flora sbo has re- I turned?" "No." "IJut this carriage?" "Wandered up here a few minutes I sinco." "Driven by?" "No one, just as you see it Oh! where is my poor mistress?what has become of her?" ' The schemer's eyes dilated with rapid, j excited thought To him the situation | was plain. Flora Merwyn and ber mys- j terious protector had reached a place of I seclusion and safety, had turned the j horses loose, and tbey bad fouud tbeir way home as intended. tal'n tKom tn o+aV?lnc " I said. He siezed ihe bridles and led the tired , steeds into the court yard. Just unloos- ; ening the gates, he looked up as his i name was called in tones of inquiry, and j a form loomed up in the near distance. "Is that you, Mr. Dacre?" "Yes, who is it? Oh! the Sheriff. > What is it?" "You are Deeded." The schemer looked annoyed. "Needed?" he repeated vaguely. "What for? No more hother about the bank, I hoDe?" "Oh, no;*but I think you had better see your old clerk." "Wharton?" "Yes." "What's the matter with him?" As if he did not know! Consummate actor! As if he had not anticipated the u^ru infnrrnotirm ahnur ho f> wn 1 to him! "Well, he's acting mighty queer." "How?" "Cranky?peculiar. The people say he's gone clear daft over this trouble. He's got positively unmanageable." Arnold Dacre chuckled to himself. Tt) himself, too. he muttered complacently. "Good! Wharton is carrying out the scheme nobly." :.' V-... ; "Will you come. He's at bis room and cutting up badly." "Yes," replied Dacre, "I'll be tbere in fifteen minutes. "Very well." ?-V n ? +/I /I AMI *-? iVlfl ! J. (If' 0111:1111 UVJJCH ICU uu H 1 i VUO OllUbV iii the direction ot Wharton's lodgings. Arnold Dacre looked after him with glowing eyes of mingled contempt and triumph. "The unsuspecting dolts!" he ejaculated. "They little dreain the plot we're playing. Wharton adjudged insane, and irresponsible, and unable to answer certain ucrly questions about the bank accounts which might be difficult to explain, Merwyn dead, the papers all fixed to suit mv claims, ray course is plain sailing?only the eirl and her unknown protector!" he muttered darkly, as he led the horses into the carriage house. "If I was sure of her silence and his identity,, if I could only trace them, I would feel the victor complete." He groped about until he founr a lantern on a hook. This he lighted. By its aid he unhitched and stalled the tired horses. Then, taking up the light, ho held it close to the vehicle. It showed rough i/sase,. evidences of hard driving. A peculiar sanav loam attached to the wheels, and he noted it. "Hello! that's a clue. Thoy have gone west beyond the swamp lands. I will prosecute my search in that locality tomorrow. He flashed the lantern through the door of the carriage next, striving in the appearance of the seats, the floor, the robes to trace the possible movements, of the two persons in whom he was so eugrossedly interested. "No mud or loam here," he reflected, "so the drive was made without stop. Ah! what is this?" What, indeed! with the eagerness of a zold miner groping in the glittering dust for a nugget, Arnold Dacre snatched up a card lying just under the driver's seat. It was yellow?ominous hue, suggestive of the tawny flag of quarantine, the lottery card, tne convict ticKet oi leave, i It was worn, its edges frayed, and had been trodden into the mire of earless j feet lie held it nearer the lantern. He glanced at it, stared, recoiled, and. gaspine for breath, fell back against the stable door as if struck there by a powerful blow. The lantern went jangling to the. floor. Into his eyes came a weird, superstitious dread, a nameless horror. The truth was revealed now. No need j to seek further for the identity of persecuted Flora Merwyn's mysterious friend. For that ominous vellow card dropped accidentally %y the driver ol the carriage. was a revelation complete?it told all. His brain reeling, his senses distraught. all the past hovering over him like a dark, threatening cloud, all the future menacing him like a flaming sword, he seemed to see duplicated in the air everywhere, swaying in serpentine flashes of tire, the words that little card bore: * : Convict 2.324, : : Good-Conduct Card. : ? And convict number 2,324, as he well knew, was the man his villainy had consigned to hideous prison cell, the man whom Flora Merwyn had loved and lost?Ray Webster! [to be continued.] A Cheering Companion. "What a small thing will keep a man from insanity when in solitary confinement," said a prison warden recently. | "I read the case of a prisoner who I somehow in solitary confinement had managed to keep his silver watch secreted on his person. For a time he kept up very well, and, as his crime was a terrible one, we did not feel like releasing bim, but one day he became violeut and crazy, and we finally decided tn remove him to the hospital. Iu his cell we found the watch, with the mainspring broken. "It seems that as long as the watch continued to tick in his ear at night he felt as if he had a companion and his dark cell did not seem so solitary. He caressed the watch fondly, talked to it' and it talked to him. Hour after hour it spoke and he was enabled to endure the terrible loneliness, with this cheering and gossippy companion. He told me afterward that he put words to that ticking and that the watch seemed almost like a thing of life. "But one night something snapped and its voice ceased. He wound it up anxiously and still It was silent. It was like the death of something bo lovea, uie passing away 01 iur uenrcsi thing oil earth. Before It had been an lmated and full of life, with a tongue that wagged and wagged. Now it was a bit of dead, lifeless metal. The long hours of the night weighed upon bim. He seemed to see strange visions. His loneliness was frightful. And tbenthe next morning they found him raring crazy."?Detroit Free Press. Quite a Difference. The fabulist of the Chicago World bas invented a little tale of two men and a dog. Its lesson is too obvious for comment, perhaps, but cannot be learned too often. It is commended to all readers, both to those who keep dogs and to those who do not. Johnson and Thompson were nextdoor neighbors. Johnson had a dog that barked a considerable part of every night. Finally Thompson said to Johnson: "Look here, Johnson, we have always been friends, and I hope you won't take offense if I tell you that the barking of your dog Is driving me and my family mad for want of sleep." "Dear me!'' said Johnson. "That's o.ueer. I haven't noticed that Leo ever barked any to speak of." Two or three evenings afterward i Thompson came home leading a dog? | the dog?by a string. "Now, then," said he to Mrs. Tliomp son. "we will soon have a chance tc | Bleep. I didn't like to shoot the beast j while belonging to Johnson, so I bought j him. Nobody can blame us for killing j our own dog. I'll get some chloroform j to-morrow." A month passed, and Johnson and j Thompson met. "Well. Thompson, you haven't chloroformed that dog yet." "No," replied Thompson. "The truth is we have become rather fond of the fellow. He is so lively and playful." "But doesn't his barking at night annoy you now V" "I haven't noticed it." I "H'm!" said Johnson. "The brute I keeps us awake lmlf the night. I do not see how you rnn put up with it." A County Treasurer'* Shortage* I Sidney J. Sandford, County Treasurer at j Barrie, Ontario, Canada, has disappeared. | He went away, leaving a letter, saying that there was a shortage in his accounts, which I he could not meet. A partial investigation ! shows a loss to the county of about $100,000, j which will probably be increased by tuture investigation. E1DE IN SEDAN CHAIBS. ANTIQUE VIFTHOD OF CONVEYANCE BECOMES SOCIETY'S NEW FAD. Primitive Vehicle Again to he Used In London and New York?Men Employed to Carry Them?Appearance of the Modern Sedan?Itich Interior Finish, Tbe ultra fashionable set of Chicago will soon startle the pedestrians of Lake Shore drive and Michigan boulevard by a new fad, says the Chicago Times-Herald. They are about to adopt the antique and aristocratic sedan chair as a means for conveyance over short distances. This new traveling fad has already become quite common in London, where the more fashionable people have begun to indulge in the practice to an alarming extent. They use the sedan chair for all functions in their immediate neighborhood, and only hesitate on veritable State occasions to abandon it for the brougham. The fad soon reached New York, where swelldom is now trying to accustom itself to the primitive novelty of the horseless carriage. A corporation has been formed and hundreds of sedan chairs have been made to be let out at a .nominal price per hour on .A iutl,.4 ?r muuii nit: aauic sj'Dicm aa luui uj. tue hansom cabs. The promoters of the scheme are already reaping a harvest from the use of the new vehicles for evening parties. Small dances, receptions, dinners and all functions of a purely private and exclusive nature. Between the conspiracies of the fashionable world and the wheeling world the poor horse seems to be in the decline of his popularity. All the universe seems to be contriving to push him out of usefulness. For the sedan chairs are to be carried by grooms, footmen or equerries, whichever term the society woman chooses to apply to her servants of the chair. Each will be propelled by the strength of four men. It seems like the revival of a barbaric, mediaeval habit, when human beings assume again the duties of a pack horse. But the sedan is extremely light in weight, and the burden, divided between four, is said to be not so trying a9 one would presume. The men V THE SEDAN CH change their positions from one side to the other, so that the muscles of one shoulder and arm are not overtaxed to the neglect of the muscles of the other. "When my lady appears on the boulevard in her 6edan she will not attract so much attention as one would fancy. For there is nothing showy, extravagant or ill-bred about the new fad. It is not redolent with cheap gilt, pink satin and panels daubed with high impressionism. The new sedan is, in fact, a characteristic modern vehicle, similar to the body of any closed carriage, nnd differing only in the absence of wheels. In place of the latter two long highly-polished poles are fastened to the underside of the vehicle, exa> iw/v 4- r\ fka on/1 IttA tcuuiu^ U XCCt IV LUC 11UUU (?UU uuv to the rear. By means of these poles the sedan is lifted from the ground and borne by the equerries. The more popular style of modern sedan looks then like a correct brougham. It is constructed, however, on a much smaller scale, it is vastly lighter in weight and will accommodate only one person. The frame work is very slender and delicately fashioned, though durable. It is made of pine, ash or oak. Over this breast plates, so to speak, of mahogany or rosewood. Others are pnveypil with less expensive woods and painted black, dark green, blue or maroon, with yellow and red for trimming. Still others are covered with leather in dark hues or canvas painted in the dark somber colors mentioned. Thus only the colors popular in the decoration of ordinary vehicles are utilized exclusively. A striking and fundamental difference exists between the modern sedan and the European one of two centuries ago. The latter opened in front by a double door like the modern hansom cab. The modern sedan, howerer, opens only at the side by a single door, constructed precisely like that of a brougham. 1- -Li- - 1- ?~/l aa/|n<r. AllllOUgll XXJC ?114yic-?cttic?.i ocuiiu dow holds the popular sway there is another double-seated style, which will probably supersede it. This sedan for two persons is much more bulky and heavy than the single sedan, and requires, or should require, eight equerries. In outline it has the graceful curves of the English state carriages, with a suspicion of rococco ornamentation about the moldings. The seats are vis-a-vis like the old English "sociable," and there is a single dooi on both sides like the modem closed carriage. The severe and correct exterior oi the sedan will be left unmarred by anj attempt at elaborate decoration. However. the panels of the door will be finished with the crest, heraldic arms 01 simple monogram of the family. The equerries, too, will be costumed aimly. There will be little or 110 display of brass buttons, gilt braid or knee breeches. The equerries will be cos turned as grooms, in blue, green or maroon, with high top boots and the f?n(i mul llitrll iiat. Sc that the equerry will be n cross be tween the footman and the man on tb< box. It is upon tbe interior of ths sedat that tbe greatest attempt at luxury i: made. Tbe richest tapestries, rar< old brocades, velvets and satins wil be utilized to tuft and feather th?? so ciety queen's nest. Not only dull gold silver and old blues will be put in, bu even brocades of pale, delicate tint: J lik^ my lady's own dainty satin toilet. For she will not call out her equerries and her sedan except when she is about to crn fifornnrl in pvpninc rlr?Q<i The hired sedans in New York are not fitted ont on such an elaborjfte , scale, of course, but, nevertheless, the i U9e of them is reserved by the month for fashionable women who are sure that no ene else is allowed to travel in them. The interior of the chairs are thus kept perfectly clean and dustless. Consequently the long, marvelous evening wraps of shimmering white are not contaminated and soiled by contact with the vehicle. The private sedan chair is going to be an expensive luxury, for the orig. inal cost, not to speak of that of the maintenance of the vehicle and the servants, is by no means small. The , body or frame of the sedan costs but little. Several hundred cheap sedans were made by a local carriage manufacturer for use on the Midway during il /.* - i. AOA V T) i. 1.1 I ine iair aL sou apiece. jdui tuey were covered only -with canvas and lined with chintz. The new sedan, with its elaborate interior trimmings and exterior appurtenances, will cost from $500 to $1500, a tidy sum for a mere whim. Unfortunately for those women who possess elaborate gilt sedans, they cannot put them to this practicable use. Some beautiful relics of the olden time have been used, however, for decorative purposes, and maintained their usefulness well as bric-abrac cabinets for little antiquities in porcelain, brass and silver. Or they have served as chests for old linen, laces and brocades. Nearly all of the sedan chair made in 1893 for the Midway are scattered throughout the city in the homes of curio collectors. Several society women succeeded in getting the unlovely things, rather soiled after contact with the rabble of the Midway, and then having them recovered and decorated, they exhibit them with pardonable pride and vainly as the real Eastern palanquin. One woman is now using her sedan chair as a decoration for her lawn, after having filled it with a profusion of rare trailing vines and beautiful blossoms. Famous Collections of Antlers. Of the famous collections of antlers formed in the seventeenth century only two or three have escaped the AIR AS REVIVED. general fate of conflagrations, sieges and pillage. One of these is in Moritzburg, the King of Saxony's historical hunting castle, near Dresden; while in the celebrated gun gallery in Dresden itself are to be seen, in an unrivaled show, the wonderfully inlaid arms used by the elector. The great banqueting hall of the castle of Moritzburg is one of the sights with which no doubt many a traveled reader has been charmed. It is a chamber of noble proportions? siytv-aiT feet, lone bv thirtv-four feet O ?/ " wide and thirty-eight feet high. On its otherwise unadorned white walls hang seventy-one pairs of magnificent antlers, which one may describe as the most famous of their kind in the world. Not a single one carries less than twenty-four tines, or is less than two hundred years old, while some are probably double that age.?Century. How America "Was Named. Vespucci himself must not be held responsible for the usurpation. The xinconscious criminal was a certain Martin Waldseemuller, of Fribourg, an eminent cosmographer patronized by Rene, Duke of Lorraine. * The Duke probably showed a letter of Vespucci's to his geographical friend, who incorporated its contents with the treatises which he was issuing under the assumed name of "Hylacomylas," and, as these publications had a wide circulation, the use of the name Amerigo fVinn hficftms r>rr>r>A?rftted tlirouch out the world. A Famous Tablecloth. A famous restaurant in Vienna possesses a remarkable tablecloth, on which are inscribed the signatures of the majority of the reigning sovereigns of Europe, the members of the house of Hapsburg, and of a great number of celebrities in art, music and letters. The names were written on the cloth in pencil, the proprietress of the establishment afterward carefully embroidering them. The Philosophy of Marriage. Miss Hunter?"Don't you think, I my lord, a man should aways marvy n girl of entirely opposite cliarao*.2ris! tics?" i Lord de Busted?"Yaas, I certainly ; do. That's why I'm looking for a 1 girl with money." , In 1808 the number of Bibles printed t in England was 81,107; in 1896 tnere 3 were 3,970,439 copies published. V*&WV?a ' ."?' ; $?p \ QUE BUDGET OF KU10I LAUCHTER-PROVOKINC STORIES FO LOVERS OF FUN. All's Fair In War?Evasion?Danger i Delay?Safe?No Regrarder of Persons The Cornerstone ? Surprised ? Bargai Day in Stamps ? Far From It, Et A bioyole corps, With weapons galore, Ml strapped to the broad, slanting back Charged after the foe With a whoop and hallo? But the road had been sprinkled with tack ?Chicago Record. Evasion. Miss Rivalle?"Now, Mr. Jone Fm sure you think Miss Minks pretty, The Astute Jones?"Yes; site : pretty tall."?Pick-Me-TJp. Danger of Delay. "Ob, doctor, yon have been so vei I aw r* in iVinf rv? rr r\oin Vtoa 1o lUAJLg A1A UUlUUi^ UUUU XXXJ l+CtO It me." "I am exceedingly sorry, bnt P a snre yon it shall not occur again. Jndy. No Regarder of Pergoni. . "George, I fear yon are marryir me jnst because my uncle left me fortune." "No, my precious. I'd marry yc just the same if any other person ha left it to you."?Tit-Bits. Safe. "Umpire, "why didn't you dodj when that pitcher struck at your he? with his bat?" "Dodge? Haven't I been watchin him play ball all season? He can hit anything."?Detroit Free Press. 'Surprised. City Nephew?"I have very litt money in the bank, but I have a goo deal tied up"? Uncle Josh ? "Land sakes! thought you city folks was all pa i > ? &eejjiu jrer uiuutjj in DUUUMM D. Puck. The Cornerstone. Mrs. Buinpus?"I see in the papei that Millionaire Van Dough only lai the cornerstone of his fortune a fe yearb ago." Bumpus?"Ah, mebbe he was or of the fellers that sold me that go) brick then."?Pittsburg News. Reckless Extravagance. Tommy (reading)?"The despera' outlaws, finding themselves su rounded, resolved to sell their lives i dearly as possible; but the assailan advanced bravely?" Edith?"How foolish! Why didr they wait till bargain-day?"?Puck. Bargain Say In Stamps. "Can't I get these two-cent stam] cheaper if I take a quantity?" ask< Mrs. Chestnut of the stamp clerk the Philadelnhia nostoffice. "I can let yon have a dozen for qnarter," replied the clerk. "Very Avell, I'll take them."?Ha lem Life. Far From It. Mr. Citiman?"I don't see how y< can spend the best years of yonr li in a place like this." Mr. Subbubs?"Hang it all, ma I am not spending the best years of n life here. The years I have spent he have been the very worst years of n life."?Puck. Athletic Diet. "I know a man who lives on bas h?lls ? "What do you mean?" "Well, he begged a quarter of m said he hadn't had a square meal for week, and when I got out to the gan he had a better seat than I had."Detroit Free Press. "Sot Much Luck. "Are the fish biting well to-day! asked a man of a boy who was fishii in a brook not far from Boston. "The fish do not bite, sir," replit the boy, respectfully. "They swallo the bait, and the hook embeds itself: their mouth. But they are very wai to-day, sir."?Puck. Not to be Expected. Salesman?"If the goods are n< just as represented, we will cheerful refund your money." Rural Customer?"Don't tell n sech yarns as that, young man! 1 might gimme me money back, but ain't human natur fer ye to be chee ful about doin' it."?Puck. Interegting. "I find the American farmer so i: teresting," twittered the poetess. "I manage to extract a good deal interest out of him myself," was tl answer of the short, elderly, doubl chinned gentleman, who, as it afte ward developed, was in the mortgaj business.?Cincinnati Enquirer. Changing the Figure. Van Arndt?"See. those two gir over there? Not much difference : their figures, eh?" Fenilworth?"Not the slightes I'd call them both gawky, long ai angular." Van Arndt?"Yes; but the one i blue is heiress to millions?so she always referred to as being 'svelte.' ?Puck. A Modern Munchausen. "Any quail about this neighbo hood?" inquired a tourist, who wj about to register at a "Western Texi hotel. "Quail!" said the proprietor, wil an indulge smile; "they've got to I a nuisance. The cook complains thi she can't throw a piece of toast out the back window but four or five f | quail fight to see which one shall g j it."?Texas Siftings. Over-Cautious. "I wish," said the clarinet playi thoughtfully, "that they'd leave 01 one of the numbers in this pr trramnie." "What for?" inquired tbj leader. "You see, the genf!c:wu in charj of this occasion doesn't know vei much about music. That selectic requires me to rest for thirty-tvi measures, and I'm afraid he'll thir I'm not earning my salary."?Was] ington Star. TVHnhlneton'8 Survey. Gem-ge S. Deakins, of Rowlesburi W, Ya., a surveyor, has the coinpa and the instrumeuts which belonged hia grandfather when, with Washini ton, he surveyed the road from Wasl ington to the Ohio. ___ ... . Ij I >_ SICK-ROOM HINTS. For cramps or pains in the stom^^HH P try a few drops of essence of camphc^^^H For a nervous headache a cap I moderately strong tea in which two or ! three slices of lemon have been in- s _ fused. 1 in For tired feet put a handful of com- 1 c. mon salt into four quarts of hot water. | Place the feet in the water while it is ' hot as it can be borne. Then rub the fl? feet dry with a rough towel. For making a clear complexion stir two teasnoonfuls of flowers of sulphur into half a pint of new milk. Let it stand a while, and then rub the face 8j over with it a short time before waahm ing. is For binding np cuts and wounds always use linen, not cotton, as the fibres of cotton are flat and apt to irritate a sore place, while those of 7 linen aro perfectly rounded. For baldness try the following tonic: g Liquid ammonia, almond oil and _ chloroform each one part; alcohol, five parts; oil of lemons, one dram. Apply freely and often after first thoroughly brushing the hair. This is a mild ig stimulant and perfectly safe. a For a nail-cleaning liquid use the \ following lotion: Tartario acid, one v ^ dram; tincture of myrrh, one dram; ^ eau de Cologne, two drams; distilled water, three ounces. Dissolve the acid in the water, mix the tincture of | myrrh and eau de Cologne and add to 1 ^ the acid solution. Dip the nails in this ' solution, wipe and polish with a chamois g pad.?New York Tribune. ^ Smoke and Health. Fogs are said to have a very beneficial effect on the health of districts le where they are prevalent, as they are T I(1 great purifiers of the atmosphere, and. even the sulphur which makes the j London fog so pangent and irritating at is credited with effecting quite an ap_ preciable limitation of prevalent infectious diseases. Professor Maur is now of the opinion that smoke may be , turned into a hygienio ally, and, under ' - ' rjj some circumstances, be made capaoie - \ l" of preserving the public health to a dew gree little imagined. The dust collected from the smoke of some Liege I 16 furnaces, burning coal raised from the neighboring mines, produces, when dissolved in hydrochloric acid, a solution from which considerable quan, tities of arsenic and several other me6 tallic salts may be precipitated. It is- J r" now suspected that this breathing of J3 arsenic and other minerals in a finely I 8 divided state may account for the , singular immunity from epidemics en1 joyed by certain industrial districts, such as that of St. Etienne, and medical authorities in those regions and , ps elsewhere are asked to throw upon >d the subject what light they can. It is at suggested that the ventilating effect of 11 ? wftlr- -,'i me numerous ciiiiwicjra m uuu man.- , , a ing and other industrial centers has its due share in constantly driving off j- the vitiated air and replacing it by fresh quantities of pure air. It -was noted that when pestilence was raging in the English town of Clifton, an ele>u vated and apparently salubrious reside dential district, its inhabitants mi- I grated to a low-lying and murky parish J n! in the adjacent town of Bristol, where M the air was black from the smoke of re numerous chimneys, while the mor-: iy tality was lower than that of the fash- J ionable quarter overlooking it.?St. p Louis Globe-Democrat. I friceiese itopuibb ui u? auuu W. A. Baillie-Grohman writes of e "Sports in tlie Seventeenth Century" a for the July Century: The author is says: _ The stag was altogether the most highly prized animal of the chase; and I his antlers, if they were of great size Dr showed any abnopmity in their j >" growth, were the most treasured . ig trophies of the hunt. "When potentates [j made one another presents, these usu- 1 id ally consisted of some famous deer j w head; for these Nimrods not only vied in with one another in the quantity of ry game they laid low, but also regarding their collections of antlers, upon which i enormous sums were spent. For the* j famous sixty-six-tined head killed in 1696 by the Elector of Brandenburg, ly and which is still preserved at the Castle of Moritzburg, near Dresden, it is said that the Elector of Saxony gave fe a company of the tallest grenadiers in his army. For an abnormal thirtyr* six-point head one of the Dukes of Wurtemburg gave a whole village, *M *1 1A?w1 ^aiiooo on/1 Witn lis lUUUUiUimo, muu, uuuovw. _ church, including even the parson's Q" prebend, as the chronicler does not , forget to mention. A Duke of Pom0 erania for a celebrated thirty-two16 tined head, which he was anxious to 0" have for his collection, a sum which r" would correspond to ?25,000 of our present money, and what is more, his j bid was refused. Upon the spots j where great stags were killed monu- ^ jg ments were erected; and in more than m one instance monasteries and cloisters were founded in such localities, as lt well as in those where some great 1(j Nimrod had escaped mortal danger. ^ Two Uses for Money. >B Money is what it will do. A piece ? of money was seen "doing" what it was never made for, in front of the Mail and Express office this morning. A smoker had a cigar and a match, but no onT>v?nip.nt nlace to strike a lij?ht. i9 The sole of his shoe was damp, and is he may have had an esthetic reluctance to join that ignoble army that marks buildings with saltpetre scars. )e He fumbled in his change pocket, at found a half dollar, struck his match of upon it, and walked away serenely at puffing the cigar of the Havana, et , Not every wearer of eyeglasses knows that a piece of paper money ie i the best thing with which to polish dull j lenses. Sometimes the clean, ooft er 1 handkerchief carried for the purpose nt i fails to remove that blui on the glase o- that so vexes the wearer. A bill of any denomination, but not too new, will, if used in place of the linen, ;e make the lens like crystal in a moment. y The action may look like vulgar os>n tentation of wealth, but it costs nothro iug after all.?New York 3Iail and Ex*k press. jS li- ( Killed by Potato Bugs. Charles Price, a farmer, residing^ftfi aear namourg, auu., 10 uc?u, no m ?y result of poison from potato bugs. ^ He was at work iu bis potato patch t0 tilling tbe beetles that were devouring tbe plants. Swarms of bugs ^ alighted on his face and hands, which were soon impregnated with the ' poison. He died in great agony. .'