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r? ~ P T] | Swamp 5*\ \j/ twwvwv ^ A STORY OF 1 /f) kWWVW Nst/ By EBEN E 5& ***8s Copyright by Rotxrt Bonner's Sons. CHAPTER XIX. CONTINUED. Bhoda was inclined to resent his poor excuse, for it indicated that he thought any explanation would satisfy her. And, then, she had begun to ^xave some doubts about him. Samanthy had exerted an influence against him, and when Samanthy "didn't like body, she didn't, an' that -was all there was to it," aocording to her own statement, and she had left no stone QAtnrned in her effort to make a point against Wayne. She had been influenced by two motives: She did not like Wayne, and she did like Bhoda. "Yes, you look somewhat incredulous," he said. "Is it necessary for xne to tell you all I have been doing to prove to you that I have been busy?" "Oh, you needn't put yourself to that trouble," said Bhoda, with a simulation of indifference. She wasn't going to let him flatter himself that she cared very much if he did not come to see her. Just then some one called him away for a moment. It was Bill Green. ~ " ?3.3 When their consultation was enaeu, they stood and chatted together for a moment. Then Khoda heard Bill saj: "Hain't b'en havin' a tiff with Bhody, hev ye? Seem's ef she looked kin' o' riled up about suthin' or ruther." "I think she doesn't like it very well beoause I haven't been to see her lately," answered Wayne, withalangh that brought the angry color to Ehoda's face. "I did go there quite 1 ?? 1?V?nf T a a ix7 often, as pernaps yuu uiun, the girl was inclined to take everything in dead earnest, and I've rather fought shy of her since. A nice sort of a girl to help one pass away time when it hangs heavy. I wonder you don't lay siege to her heart, Green. She'd make you a charming wife." Wayne had no idea that Rhvda could hear what he was saying. Bat she heard every word of it, and her eyes fairly blazed with anger under cover of her sun-bonnet. "Oh, you misierable wretch!" she said under breath. "I despise you! I hate you! I winh I could make you feel how much contempt I have for you! To talk like that about me to such a thing as Bill Green! Oh, you puppy 1" Mere printed words fail to express 41. ~ nt nrratVi fVlO.+. WftS fiOU UULO 1UICJUJ311J VI TfAMVM - centrated in Rhoda's tone. Girls with a nature like hers can hate qnite as thoroughly as they can do anything else. In much less time than it has taken to tell it her liking for Wayne had changed to hatred and repugnance. She saw now that what Dick had told her was true. There could be no mistake, no doubt, for she had the truth vy from Wayne's own lips. He had made her his dupe. He had made a plaything, a fool, of her. "If I ever get a chanoe to pay you back, I'll do it!" she said, with a flashing glance of scorn at him. And she meant it. The chance was nearer at hand than ihe dreamed of. !~ When Wayne came back to the seat he had vacated, from his interview with Bill Green, she turned her back upon him squarely, and ignored every attempt of his at conversation with lofty but silent contempt, much to his vexation and consequently to her delight. Some new arrivals necessitated a change of seat. This brought Rhoda next to Samanthy and Nannie. "You don't like Mr. Wayne as well as you used to, do you?" she whispered to Nannie. Rhoda was never given to beating About the bush. "I don't like him very well," answered Nannie, cautiously. Of late she and Rhoda had not been very intimate?rather cool to each other, in fact?and she was at a loss to understand -what Rhoda's tactics were; therefore she thought it best to be rather reserved in her ooruaunicaViri+il Via* nkicot in afo.rt.incr STIftVl \ ? ""Jvvv o a conversation became clear. "I just hate him!" said Rhoda. "] never saw anybody who looked meanei to me than he does." f "I'm glad of it,** said Nannie, suddenly waxing cordial. "I don't believe you hate him any worse than ] do!" Thus it was that hatred?a feeling that should not have been tolerated al camp-meeting?mide better friends oi these two girls tnan they had been foi Bome time before. CHAPTER XX. 8AMANTHY HAS TOOTHACHE. Mr. Roone had slept in the barn flverv nicrht since Deacon Snyder's ? If O r horses were stolen. He was afraid the horse-thieves would be after Dolly and Nell. He attended the day services of the camp-meeting on Friday and Saturday, and Saturday evening found him all on fire with religious enthusiasm. But he hesitated, somewhat about attending the evening service. He wanted to go, but he felt that some one ought to remain at home. There was no telling what might happen if the place were left alone. But he finally concluded to go. Samanthy went over to Mr. Boone's, to accompany Nannie to the grove. At first Nannie had declared that slit wasn't going to attend the camp-meeting. It hardly seemed right for hei to be enjoying herself, or, at least, trying to do so, while poor Dick was a fugitive and a wanderer on the face oi the earth. "Good Lord!" argued Samanthy. with good, hard comrnon-sense. "Your stayin' to hum, mopin' an' cry in', hain't a-goin' tu make it any bet ter fer him, is it? He'd ruther y'd git along with yer trouble as easy's %' ' AJZV/W ;OXlXfay i Secret. ? wvwvvw W 'HE FRONTIER. 0 wwww. (V) !. REXFORD. \$Z 7K ' 7f\/?\ TPs 7P\ g^^ieie^ ^ I possible. I know him -well enough ' *? AI__A Aiii i :i .?} i?i)M .u ier mat, vjrn yer uuumv uu xob o uo goin'." They went by the way of the hollow tree, and Nannie deposited there her daily loaf, adding a great wedge of her mother's camp-meeting cake and a half-dozen donghnnts of her own manufacture. "They'll taste good to him, I hope, poor fellow," she said patiently. "Course they will," said Samanthy. "'Poor feller,' indeed! Sh'd think he'd git the r'umatiz sleepin' out these awful damp nights. I've felt 'em all day jest from bein' out to meetin' las' night. I don't s'pose I'd orter be out to-night. But, land! I don't see how I c'd stay tu hum with everybody else goin'; so I've took my chance o' gittin' laid up. I got out the arnicky bottle afore I started, so's to hev handy when I git hum; an' mebbe af I rub it in II Till 1 >? won, X 11 loci an ii^ui wmunDi. "Lots of nights I can't sleep, just for thinking of poor Dick, ' fBaid Nannie, tears coming into her eyes. Her remorseful conscience made her thoughts of Dick very tender ones just now. The forest resounded with the shouts of newly awakened souls, the singing of devout attendants, who hoped by. their songs to cheer on those who were wavering between good and evil, and the lusty exhortations ofv the ministers. One could hear the campmeeting farther than one could see it. "I s'pose it's all right," Baid Samanthy, in a tone that meant that she thought it was all wrong. "But fer my part I don't b'leeve in hollerin' an' shoutin'. I'm a reg'lar hard-shell Baptis'; all my folks was; an' we never took no stock in sanctification sji' gittin' the power an' the high mount o' holiness an' sioh, as the Methodis' folks tell about. I don't fellership it myself, an' none of our folks could. Sprinklin', tul I sh'd feel *s ef I wa'n't more'n half converted ef I didn't git right down into the water. Xe needn't tell me! it aont stair tu reason that a bo 3y can be immersed by throwin' a few drops o' water on him; an' the Bible says jest as plain as can be that emmersion 's right, an' I go by what that says more'n I do by man's say-so. When I go in fer anything, I b'leeve in bein' thurrer, an' sprinklin' ain't thnrrer enough to suit me." * They passed on to the edge of the grounds and observed the congregation. Deacon Snyder was in the middle of a most powerful exhortation to a group of young men, who were listening with great interest, apparently, and a look on their faces that gave good grounds for the belief that they might be penitent before the exhortation was over. In another part of the grounds old Mrs. Green was singing that quaint old piece of religious doggerel which most persons who have attended an old-fashioned camp-meeting, or have known an old-time revival, must remember: "0, the sisters want religion! The brothers want religion! We've got to have religionGlory to the Lambl" The zeal with which she was singing it rendered her wholly oblivious of all things earthly, but it could not prevent her from being a very comical figure as she swayed to and fro, her hands olasped, her eyes closed, and her old poke-bonnet tipped over on her shoulders, and hanging by its strings, making the worldly-minded and irreverent think of a small mortar aimed skyward, ready to fire off the good old lady's head at the moon. Bill Green was among the penitents, VnopliTur at. t.hfl RTTximiH-sfifit. The minister had said some things that frightened his cowardly heart, because they told the trnth about him, and he could not, at such a time as this, deny it, and the excitement of the occasion | had a contagion in it which natures , like his are very susceptible to, and it ) had fastened upon him, and here he was, among the "seekers," groaning l and writhing as if the devil hated to let go his hold upon him. So the struggle between good and ! evil went on to the accompaniment ol strange sights and sounds which made the scene seem fantastic and unreal enough, to the looker-on who took no - active part in it, to be a fragment from a dream. , "Daar sus a day!" cried Samanthy, ! in the middle of a hymn, greatly to the f surprise of Nannie, who felt sure from . the nature and the time of the ejaculation that her companion was about to "get the power." "O my days!" "What's the matter?" asked Nannie. Samanthy answered with a smothi ered groan, for she had enveloped the i lr?w?r nn.rf nf ViAr in n. nVin.'url [ "Are you getting the power?" asked Nannie. "Wus'n that," answered Samanthy, i in a sepulchral tone, from the depths oi her shawl. "It's the jumpin' tooth[ ache. O Lord! "When it jumps, I can't keep my mouth Bhet. Oh! Oh!" ; "Hadn't we better go home?" asked i Nannie. "It will be likely to keep ! on aching if we Btay out in this damp i air." > "Yes, I reckon we'd better," said Samanthy. "Oh, my goodness!"?with a frantic grab at her jaw, as the refractory tooth gave another excruciating twinge of pain. ! "Sister Samant'y, be you a-groanin: . . i... iv . _i ?_ _i ii :in>! ! unaer ine siriviii s u me uperritr asked Deacon Snyder's wife, Beeing , Samanthy's convulsed face and heari ing her groan of anguish. "Ef it is a f pleadin' an' a intercedin' " " 'Tain't," answered Sainanthy, con, cisely and sharply. "It's the toothache, an' I'm a Baptis', Mis' Snyder, an' don't b'leeve in the power, an' ? 1 n ? > !xL spnnKlin, n sicn tilings, ana wnu I this general declaration of non-beliel j she broke loose from the detaining / clasp of Mrs. Snyder's hand and she and Nannie left the grounds. As they passed the minister's stand, Wayne was just striking np the old recruiting hymn of the grand old Metho? dist army: "Am I a soldier of the Cross, 1 A follower of the Lamb?" "Sh'd a 'nough sight sooner think he was a stealer of a hoss," said Samanthy with grim and irreverent humor. Her unexpected and accidental rhyme set her to chuckling, in the midst of which mirthful demonstration her tooth gave a twinge outdoing all former efforts in that line, and bringingthe tears to her eyes. "Sarves.me right fer sayin' foolish < things on a solium time," she groaned, i and they passed the singer without i his seeing them, and set off home- < ward. CHAPTER XXI. CAUGHT IN THE ACT. They walked home in silence. ! Samanthy was too busy with her efforts to keep the cool night-air from her tooth to be willing to attempt a conversation. "Hev to go in the back way," she mumbled, when they reached the house. "Mr. Porter's got the key to the front-door padlock, an' I took the one b'longin' to the back one." In this way it happened that they did not go around to the side of the house fronting the barn; therefore they were not seen by any one who might have been there at that time. "Now, tell me what I can do for you, "said Nannie, as soon as they were in the house. Samanthy had dropped into a chair and was swaying to and fro with her hands at her jaw, groaning dismally. "Hops?git a bag o' hops?an' pour b'ilin' hot water on 'em," she directed, spasmodically! "On top shelf?bot'ry. Dear bus a me! Wish Mr. Porter was here?'d hev him yank it out with the bullet-mol's. Oh, my goodness!" Nannie went into the pantry, and was preparing to climb on an old barrel, in order to get at the top shelf where the herbs for winter use were stored away, when she heard a sound that seemed like the creaking of a door on wooden hinges. 1 She stopped down and peered out of the window on the side toward the barn, from whioh direction the sound had seemed to come. A cry of surprise escaped her. The barn door was open! "Samanthy!" she called in a low, excited whisper. "Samanthy!" "What's wanted?" asked Samanthy, from the kitchen. "Come here," said Nannie. "Be quick!" "What's up now?" demanded Samanthy, coming to the pantry-door. "Can'tyou find the hops? They're " "The barn door's open. I do believe somebody's after Uncle Ezra's horses," said Nannie. "Look and see?I'm not mistaken." "Good Lord!" cried Samanthy, running to the window. " 'T is so, true's you're alive! Nancy Boone, it's hossthieves, ye can d'pend on it! They thought we was all off to meetin', 'n they'd hev clear sailin'!" "Oh, what'll we do?" cried Nannie. ;,Do you think it would scare 'emifwe screamed?" "I'll scare 'em," said Samanthy, * 1 1-1-1- itt^i grimiy ana resoiuieiy. uesi aecp ao still as de'th, an' hist that winder about two inches. Be Bpry about it, too." Nannie knew that any plan of action Samanthy might decide on would be wiser and more effective than any she might propose, so without stopping to ask questions, she raised the window, as directed, while Samanthy was in the kitchen. She came back with Mr. Porter's old musket. "Oh!" almost shrieked Nannie. "You aren't going to shoot them are you?" , "I be ef I can!" replied Samanthy. "I don't expect to hit nothin' 'cept the side o' the barn, but ef I don't 'twon't be my fault. If I don't hit, mebbe I'll scare 'em." She thrust the muzzle of the gun through the opening, and waited. Presently she faucied that she saw something moving back in the shadow with which the barn seemed to be filled. It was impossible to make out whether , it was a man or not, but it was safe to conclude that it must be, for the door , would not have been open had human , agency not been exerted on it. "Hoi' yer breath!" whispered Sa* manthy, bracing her feet and shutting' her eyes. "I'm a-goin' to pjill the i trigger!" f [To be continued. ] The Human Family. The human family is subject to fortyfive principal governments. As to > their form they may be classified as , follows: Absolute monarchies, China, [ Madagascar, Morocco, Persia, Russia, , Siarn, Turkey; Limited monarchies, Austria-Hungary, Belgium, British Empire, Denmark, Germany, Greece, Italy, Japan, Netherlands, Portugal, , Roumania, Servia, Sweden and Norl way, Spain; Republics, Argentine Re. public, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colom, bia, Costa Rica, Ecuador, France, Guatemala, Hawaii, Hayti, Honduras, . Mexico. Nicaragua, Orange Free State, Paraguay, Peru, Salvador, Sac , Domingo, Switzerland, Transvaal, i United States of America, Uruguay, VonMnoiii Tiosidps these are the undefined despotisms of Central and South Africa, and a few insignificant independent States. A Faithful Scholar. Mrs. Emma Corbet, of Carlisle. Penn., won for the Biddle Mission the 1 credit of having the most regulai i scholar in America, as well as winning a ? handsome Bible worth $25. The prize was given by the Christian Herald, of 1 New York, and Mrs. Corbet's record i won the prize, having attended Sun* day-school every Sunday for tweuty; four years. Har<l on Goldfish. ' fT" " * Jn L-doii. xnere is uneu ; ing goldfish. Half of the ca|)tives die from sheer want of rest. As fish have i eyes so formed that they cannot endure the light, a glass vessel is a poor place for them. This is self-evident from the way in which they dash ahout and go round and round until fairly worn out. i l The wealth of New York City grows ; by $100,000,000 every year_ H me ixuoie iveu S In His W SHow He Gets a Homestea Dignified Mode of Life, H When I was allotting lands to Indians in North Dakota I lived in tents out on the Fort Barthold reservation &bout a hundred miles from a railroad or a civilized settlement. With me was a surveying corps including several Indians and an Irishman, a German, a Spaniard and a memi * j.v._ A?4. nt Der OI UlltJ Ui lLie Alio11 lauiiiioo v* vm ginia. We joyously entertained anybody who chanced to come by our way without regard to his present or pre-, vious condition. One day a boastful stranger hauled ap, with hungry look, in front of our dining tent and without so much as "good morning" for a preface, sprang off his horse and remarked: "A big syndicate is paying me $5 a day and expenses to sell land?no difference what I get for it or whether I sell it at all or not." He seemed about to follow thiB announcement of his importance by asking the price of a 'bite' when I replied: "Picket your bronco and sit down to a feast. This surveying crowd con-1 * 1 1' 11 ? ^ T mA?1rin/v I troiB an loe country. j. ?w >Tuiaiu8 for a bigger syndicate than you are and it pays me bigger wages than you get just to give land away." The invitation needed no repetition, but the statement that I was. being paid to give land away required considerable explanation to the visitor. And the explanation may not be without interest to you. The Indians, you know,-were long accustomed to have everything in common: to graze their ponies on the common plains; to get their wood from the common forests; to stack their tents where they pleased; to hunt or work and appropriate the common reserve as freely as the fish use the sea. This was their old time and natural way of doing things. It violates every principle of the rights of property and was correspondingly conducive to savagery. It is the desire of the Government to get them entirely out of this state and to make them citizens. One of the means to this end is to nn the reservations that they hare held in common and to allot the LONG BULL IN HI lands in severalty. That is, to give each Indian a homestead, mark it off by distinct boundary lines, require him to build a house on it, teach him to cultivate it, and in various ways help him along until he is able to support himself and his family upon it. Of course the Indians have to be sufficiently advanced to be willing to do this before it can be done with any degree of success. A portion of land is allotted to every man, woman and child. When the child grows up, instead of finding tne land around belonging to everybody and nobody, he finds a distinctive tract all his own. He is "nnvaVitr fonofVif Ma law nf inheritance. ?-o ? The desire at onceB comes to him to leave to his children an inheritance at least as good as that which was left to him. He sees other Indians all around him cultivating their farms and earning for themselves the comforts of life. A healthful rivalry is thus established and ambition previously unfelt is fostered. The Dawes bill, under which allotments are made, provides that the Indian shall become a citizen with all the rights thereunto appertaining within six months alter he has taken his allotment and severed his tribal relations. It provides also that the Government shall keep the Indian's allotment in trust for him fortwentyfive years. Then he is allowed to do as he pleases with it. It is supposed that by this time he will be able to hold his own against all settlers in the THE TRIDE OF THE CAMP. competition for homes. Just after getting nn allotment, the average Indian would be strongly tempted to give a hundred and sixty acres of land for a week's rations. The next step after dividing out the Ion/I a oml nlo^inc* pnrVli Indian under lo,,u" JP" -o his own vine and iig tree is to build a school house, equip it well, put good conscientious teachers in charge of it, require every Indian of school age to attend it, and thus push on the work of civilizing the Indians right in the : i pc Man 8 ? estern Home. ? f ,d From Uncle Sam, His Jlh C? is Sports and Pastimes. Jfe! ? W heart of the reservation. The Indian ^ school qnestion has for some years en- ^ gaged more than any other the thought m m 11 _! x.J _ T? ?m?1p oi inoBe mxeremeu iu mamu nuia. ^ And "the Schools to the Reservations" ^ was the policy of the last administra- -g tion, and will, I presume, remain the policy of the present administration. The Fort Berthold reservation is on both sides of the Missouri River in the M northern part of North Dakota. It contains about a million and a quarter acres and is as far from civilization's "w haunts as any similiar-sized piece of & ground outside of Africa. The nearest railroad train passes by nearly a hun- n dred miles away. The nearest telegraph instrument tioks at the same dis- g i) I THE HOMES OF THE HOHSKIS. tance. The agency. employs a few white men who have married squaws, and a missionary or two are the only whites on the reservation. There are three tribes on this reservation, the Gros Ventres, the M&dans and the Ariokarees. .There is a subtribe of Gros Ventres known as the 1 band of Crow Flies High. They long , ago cut loose from all other Indians. 'I They had to be brought with troops ] from their mountain fastnessess down J to the reservation. They call them- j selves "Hoshkis" (huskies), which i means "bad lands." They still refuse j i- -iBI.'.i 111. W aillilUVtt Willi ?JL!jr uiuoi vail/vi | It was to this unreconstructed band that I bad to make allotments. Crow / Flies High bad been deposed as obief and Long Bnll pnt in bis place. Old J Crow now oalls himself Chief Medioine 8 REGIMENTALS. J man. He still has great influence and 8 is said to use all of it for the bad.| The Indian chiefs are great sticklers D for dignity. Crow Flies High has a v superabundance. The first time his 3 band came down to have a council 8 with me he assumed marshalship of *( them although Long Bull, dressed in e full regimentals, was spokesman. They halted their horses and wagons within a few hundred yards of my camp and sent me word that they were ready for P the conference. I replied that I was * at my "tepee" and would be verypleased ^ to receive them.' ;Crow insisted that I ^ should come to him and it was only 1' after an hour or two's parleying that 8 he consented for his band to come to - me. I was not afflicted with Crow's spirit of dignity,<but I knew that if the game was opened by my going to him, I wonld never get one of his band to take an allotment without going for him with a horse and buggy and giving him his dinner to come. Most of these "Hoehkis" are hunters, fishers, warriors, sports. They are great jnmpers, runners, boxers, wrestlers. They have a supreme and loftly contempt for an Indian who will spend his time working "just like a white man." They believe in the sovereignity of leisure. Wherever a crowd of them meet, they test their strength in manly exercise. Whenever their horses come together their mettle is tested in a race. Tliey are Drave, bright, strong. They have their tender qualities, however, and the two little girls that they brought out from their tepee homes to show me as the 'pride of the camp'?the only two children in the band that had been sent off to school?were as gentle and pretty as Indian girls should be. I induced them to decide to be "good Indians," and there is hope in their : future. They had heretofore refused to take allotments. They signified their willingness to me, but they were very slow to put it into execution. When one /?omA fnr his Allntmfint,. freouentlv. he talked about this way: "What cau I get?" He was given a great variety of land to select from. "I want none of that," said he. "Is there any special piece that I can't have?" He was told of the portions already allotted or reserved. "Then," he would cry triumphantly, "I want that or nothing!" "nil tViA nil of f i 11 ACflnt, had a real nice o ?o time changing this notion. The average Indian's god is his dinner. In influence with him the "Great Spirit" does not play even a poor sec- t' ond. You may fail to get him to agree p to anything else, but if you will invite n him to a meal he will foresake all J things and come with you. Then you I have at least a fair opportunity to rea- s * \ ' 'J } n with him and drill your persuasive I >wers. 1. When an Indian who means busi!bb?and there are many such?is to lect an allottment, he gets his pony, < des over the land, decides npon the iighborhood in which he desires to re and then picks ont the special ' aot that he wants with a view to its , ater supply, its nearness to wood or , >al mines, its meadows, its plow round and all of its conveniences, is decision once made stands, and it usually good. Too frequently, how rer, he selects a pieoe of land that , n't good for a thing in the wide, ide world. After the allotting agent ied in vain to indnce him to seleot a etter, he always comes to Mark wain's conclusion that "if he wants lat kind of a thing, that's just the ind of a thing he wants."?Claude N. ennett, in Atlanta Journal. A HORSESHOE RACK. [ king the Beit of Thins* In the Mountains of Went Virginia. In the mountains of West Virginia, here there is little money to spare >r the small things of life, are to be een, Bays the New York Tribune, lany evidences of making the best of aings. Tin cans, traditional diet of oats about New York, are here made ito hanging baskets. They are out' ito strips lengthwise, fastened in portion by wire and the whole is line*} dth a moss to prevent the escape of be earth. < New uses are also found for the old orseshoes. Instead of having holes a posts to hold the ends of the movale bars of the fences, or the more wkward double posts, with crossieces of wood joining them and holdng the bars, one thrifty man has tailed horseshoes to the posta and ests the bars on them. An idea of Ma and a further sucraestion is (riven a the illustration. The old shoes are A HOB8E8HOR BACK. tailed upon the side of the cottage and lold the "alpenstocks" of chestnut ?nd pine used in mountain climbs. Beneath the sticks is a "sand table," rhioh affords endless amusement to he little children on rainy days. Hard WlntU. When the Californian tells you that te has seen the wind blow so hard hat it blew the grass out of the pound, you will smile in spite of rourself; it is so perfectly ridiculous. Ind yet it is trne. I once planted a awn in March, sowing Kentucky blue pass. It came up beautifully and lourished Juntil May, which is the uonth in which the norther is preval* ' V - A XV- XV.? int. X IH1J1J& WttB Uie liuuuiD U1 Itue Qonth, and the-grass was about three nches high, when the norther came Jong. In two days I had no more awn; the grass had been blown out of he ground. 'As previously mentioned, he norther ia a desiccating wind, and t dried the loose soil about the grass oots until it was reduced to a powder nd thus unable to resist the wind, rhioh dispersed it. The roots, having 10 further hold in the ground, gave ray, and the wind carried off the Tass. This is how the wind blew the rass out of the ground. It is a Caliornia yarn, but simple enough when xplained:?Lippincott's. The South Polar Expedition. The commercial and scientific erudition to the South Pole, under lerr Borchgrevinck, will start from England next July. Inquiries are now eing made for a suitable ship in ScotHid and Norway. The object will be o reach Cape Adairi and proceed to THE BIG KLONDIKE N1 be South Pole on snow shoes. The arty will include several scientific aen. Herr Borchgrevinck will go to forway at Christmas, and, with some forwegian friends, practice snow hoe running. ? ;?r-??I? , ;? 'THE IRISH JOAW OF ABfc* | (otcmtlnf Young Wonun With ? *1#? ion How la Thli Ooutrjr, i]r Miss Maud Gonne, who has to Amerioa in the interest of the hidr cause, is one of the most interesting -SW young women that ever came to these, shores. Her life has been one of )o?. of country, the poor people of wmW country and romance. She now in France, where she edits a newspaper devoted to war for justice to Erin anet; . where the imaginative Prenohmen have given her the title of the "Joan \ ' of Arc of Ireland.** She if a convert to Irish nationalism from the eiunp of the Unionists, and she declared' npon reaching America that there was bni iim-a?i ' 11 one ODjGOi m me ior uer-?vuc "* the cojmnonere of her xwtire country J Miss Gonne iB the daughter of Colostl J MI88 MACD Q ON KB, Gonne, who .was an attache1 of the 1 AmUAantr Of iJU^UCU OUIUMOJ JU1 JJD, l A She was reared in the society which would accompany such a position, but h as a young girl the stories of the life of O'Connell, the Liberator, caice under her attention, and at the age of nineteen yeare she had resolved to devote her energy and years to the I whioh had been his. She has been iq active battle for eleven years, has " wn?V^ omnnn tiiA Invlv in Ti/IOiIaII and the dungeons and orgjunsed many *' societies for the improvement of the Irish peasantry. "Worry. Modern science has brought to -< ^ light nothing more curiously interest- ' ing than, the fact that worry will kill,; ^ and the way in which it kills is to be that worry injures beyond-repair certain cells of the brain. The / brain being the nutritive oe&tre of y / the body, the other organs beo<*m?f. gradually injured, and when some disease of these organs or %' combination of them arises, death Anally ensues. 'Occasional worrying of the system/the uraut ?U1 wpe WJIUI, tm? wv and reiteration of on? idea of a die- \ ; quieting sort the cells of,the brain are Sjj not proof against. ~Ftannaoeutioai> ^ Products. < Sapv From PotflfM. ' J An extensive economical revolution ^ is in sight, if the claims of Dr. Prinzen Geerlings turn out to be what the dootor asserts they are. Dr. Geerlings, a Government official of Java and form erly Professor of chemis&y at the Uitir$ :! versify of Amsterdam an n on noes the discovery of ft simple method of converting potato starch into' sugar. Ho :'% has lodged his description of the method with the Prenol i Academy of Soience, so as to secure priority for . ; his invention, although he is not quite ready to make the details public. COLD NUCCET WORTH 1983. ???? It Weigh! Thirty-Four Ooaew and V?. / Found In the Klondike Gold Field*. . .. ; pi Michael Knutsen is one of the few '' / ; '; miners who have come ont of "the Klondike region with a sack. Hie chief distinction among the miners rests in his being the possessor of the . largest nngget jet found in that die* | triot?a solid ehnnk of gold that weighs, aocording to Dawson Oity qnotations, nearly $600. Knntsen's nngget weighs afrsetioti over thirty-Joar onnees Troy, and came into his possession two days before he got ont of tha land where famine stalks. ' ' : This nngget is somewhat irregular JGGET?ACTUAL SIZE. . i t__j. T+ ia in scape, dui vtsi-j ouhu. j? ? . yellow in color, and nearly four inches in length in its largest part and about three inches in width. It was weighed and found to be worth exactly $583.25. T_ jj