Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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ffl^rigaMw* Jttjl -BY AMtLI ^TCopyri^bt, by Bo: CHAPTER IY. CONTINUED. "Then "why are you -whimpering here, instead of being at Levens? And |f the ladies tell you I gave them the Icolding they deserved this morning, C give you leave to talk as they talk. Sou may say I am a perfect Bluebeard, if it will help you to win Katherine Janfarie. And mind, you are to fight lor the wedding in September. Promise all things impossible, the moon and the stars if she wants them. I did that way with her mother. I had to. And sometimes I wonder at the cour age I showed in those days. iSut 1 feel it now. I lost my sleep last night, and nothing touched my palate thi3 morning, and my heart beats too fast, I am very sure, and all this trouble for that conceited, meddlesome Englishman! If it was not sinful to swear, I have a mouthful of bad words waiting for him." As the morning went on they visited the stock and walked into the fields, and looked at the grass now ready for the mowing, and at the growing wheat and barley. Then they had a good lunch, and the laird supplemented it by a long comfortable sleep. He was in hopes that his absence would cause " niioiicinn?? Viiq TV iff thttt she OVUiC UUVUUiuuvw ?v . .. ? might perhaps fear "something liad happened," and send to Wintoun House to inquire after him. He awoke about three o'clock, and asked if she had done so, and Jamie answered, "No," with the utmost indifference. This want of interest rather troubled him, but there was no comfortable course open but that of re' * turning home in the most ordinary manner. He asked Jamie to go with him, and Jamie said he had been waiting to do bo. This ride was a rather silent one. "When all was said and done, Wintoun felt very like a puppet in his uncle's hands; and he resented the position. There had been moments that day when he had longed to tell the laird that he "did not wonder Katherine had resolved to choose a lover whom he could not order or interfere with." They found Mrs. Brathous and Jessy Telfair on a little lawn near the rose garden. It was furnished with ' sheltsred seats and a table, and on afternoons Mrs. Brathous frequently had tea served there. She Bmiled at her husband, and made room for him on the rustic couch by removing her work-basket. He was not able to resist this charming advance, and seeiug that Wintouu was talking to Jessy, he kissed the white hand that had prepared his place, and said: "Oh, Helen! How could you be so cross this morning? I have had a most wretched day. And you never cared to find out whether I was dead or alive." "I knew pretty well what you were doing, Alexander. How are Wintoun fields looking? And wha* kind of a lncch did jon have?" "I had no appetite. When yon are cross I never can eat a morsel. Where is Katherine?" "Somewhere in the garden. I dare say Jessy and Jamie have gone to look for her." He let his eyes follow the conple a moment and saw that Jessie was talking very earnestly to her companion. She was, in fact, telling him that Mowbray was with Katherine in the Hazel Walk, and that they all looked to him to prevent any disagreeable scene between Mowbray and the laird. "You do ask such hard things of me, Jessy," he said, plaintively. "Do you think I like to be civil to tins man?" "I am sure you do not, Jamie; but then we ask hard things of you, because we know you have a heart capable of them." "He is handsome and captivating; what chance have I against him? I have nothing to put beside, his personal advantages." "Oh, Jamie Wintoun! You have a heart of gold! You are the most unselfish soul that ever lived, and at the last Katherine must find out how captivating this noble nature makes you." Before he could answer they saw the lovers standing under the green roof of the meeting hazel boughs. A blackbird was fluting above them, recapturing again and again his few deliciouslv imnlorinsr notes. Mowbrav, with uplifted face, was trying to imitate them, his arm was around Katherine, her head was against his shoulder, and the bright sunshine sifting through the green trees fell all over her fair, brown hair aud snow-white dress. "Ter-a-tene! Ter-a-tene! Ter-atene!" he whistled soft and clear; but Katherine said: "You have not quite understood. I know what he says." "Then tell me, dearest!" "I learnt the Becret from the shepherds, and the angels have told them. For shepherds out oi? the hills all night do hear anu see wonderful things. And they have known for hundreds of yeurs what is the sweet entreaty the blackbird makes every night and rooming." "And now, will you tell me?" "Listen, then!" and in low, mellow thirds she chanted the blackbird's 2nass. "Mnjrdnlen at Michael's gate Tirled at the pin, f Tlie blackbird sank cn Joseph's thora, Let her iu! Let her in!" * The tender little prayer with its mournful cadence blended with the pensive notes of the bird, and when it "Was finished Mowbray kissed the lovely mouth that had made it. "I will go back, Jessy," said Wintouu. "I will wait by the raspberry 'bushes for you." She understood and made no objections, and so lifting herself the old world rhyme, she went singing it toward Katherine. "The laird is home," she said, "and he is asking for you. And Jaaiie is by the raspberry bushes, and you two A *A?AAAAAAAAAaAAAAAAAA/ OWER OF I iALAAVATtR. | JiSTORV || IA E. BARR. S( B**T BOSNXR'6 Sir*'? > . J must come out of Paradise and be just common mortals again. They came out with a sigh, though her kindly imperativeness took away some of the sentimental regret. And then she so managed the situation as to place Katherine and Wintoun together, while she rather ostentatiously walked at Mowbray's side. The laird saw them approaching, and his loose mouth puckered and his eyes sought some explanation from his wife. She was arranging the tea cups, and as her hands moved to and fro she said sweetly: "Now, Alexander, you must not be less than a gentleman. Mr. Mowbray has come to bid you 'good-by.' You gave him welcome for his father's sake; do not spoil your kindness at the last hour." He had no time to rebel against the charge. Mr. Mowbray's perfect manner and courteous words asked for the return, and with his wife's eyes upon him the laird did not feel equal to a dispute. Wintoun also treated his rival with a courtesy which, however cold, was at least irreproachable. Evidently he was determined to give the laird no opportunity of lifting his quarrel, atd Brathous could hardly quarrel on his own account -without making Katherine the cause; and there were many considerations against such a step. So the laird said "Good afternoon, sir," and determined to speak no more. But no one was long proof against Mowbray's charming geniality, and he had almost lifted both his host and his rival to his own pleasant temper, when a servant brought into the cheerful group a telegram. It was for Mowbray, and had been sent to Galashiels, an 3 from there to the minister's, and so on to Levens-hope. . He read it with a polite impassiveness, handed it to Mrs. Brathous, and said: "The message hurries my departure ?for the Mr. Abraham Hewett, who is dying, is my father's oldest friend. I cannot neglect his request, and must say 'farewell' at once." * ; * He bowed to Wintoun, thanked the laird for his hospitality, and then turning to Mrs. Brathous gave one hand to her and one to Katherine. There was not a word uttered by Katherine. Mrs. Brathous spoke Rome hurried sentences that meant nothing at all, and at the Bame time answered his entreating eyes with a look that meant all he asked. His last glance was for Katherine, and he was turning rapidly away, when Jessy said: "Will you not shake hands with me, also, Mr. Mowbray? I thought I was one of your favorites. (Jood-by! Be sure and write to us. Father will want to know if you forget Gala Water." She gave a meaning to this injunction which he understood and answered; and then he was gone, and the tea had lost all flavor, and the laird was gruff and injured and had nothing to Bay; and the girls stole off to Katherine's room to talk about the lover and the telegram. "He did not look much troubled," said Jessy. "People* do not, as a rule, worry about their fathers' friends. You will get a letter to-morrow. A love-letterl Oh, Katherine, a love-letter!" The girls looked at each other with shining eyes, and then sighed for the very joy of anticipation. They took a map and a railway guide and followed the line Mowbray would be likely to take; and Katherine said over the names of the stations softly and musically. They were little stations on a crowded map, but they were clear and vivid to her eyes. She speculated as to the moment at which her lover would pass each of them. "And he will reach Mowbray about sunrise, I should think, Jessy," she said. He reached it in that still chill hour before sunrise. The village was asleep; tho sheep on the mountain slopes were asleep; the silence and mystery of sleep brooded over everything, animate and inanimate. Mr. Hewett's house was on the outskirts of the place, a pretty stone dwelling in the midst of a flower-garden. Mowbray opened the gate and, with swift steps, passed the flagged walk to the door. It stood wide open. Mowbray knew Mr. Hewett's room, and he went there. He found his friend sitting by the open window, and evidently suffering. "I saw thee coming, Richard," he said. "I am sorry, Mr. Hewett; I am very sorry, indeed." "Nay, nay. Richard! I have had my hour, and done my work. I am ready to go as soon as I have a bit of a talk xv ith thee. Take thy pencil and write down what I say. Why, mau! Never look so scared. There is nothing to hurt thee. I haven't murder or theft or anything wicked to tell thee." "I am not fearing for myself." "I know. I have heard tell. lean fancy a bit more. A bonny lass?a Jaufarie beauty. There have been many of them. The Janfaries ure a handsome lot of men and women. Well, it is because of her I speak. There must be no mistakes made?all must be open and honest?eh, Richard?" "To be sure, Mr. Hewett. That in what I -wish." "Then put down first that Squire Iteginaiu luowuray, uetoaacu, married at Edinburgh, at St. Giles Church, January 4, 1821. He was then just of age. He married Annot Fae, a beautiful gypsy girl, who bore him one son and then died. The boy lived, and was called Thomas." "Is hrt still alive?" "I think it is very likely." "Then he is my half-brother, anil my father's heir?" "Not exactly. He proved to be a ' very handsome and lovable lad; -bnt } unsayable ami unbiddable .beyond everything. He ran away from all Bohools. He was sent to sea and deserted his ship. Customs and fashions he despised and disobeyed. In fact, he was a gypsy, and not an English gentleman. When he was eighteen he was allowed to travel wherever his fancy led him. Your father hoped to weary out his roving temper; on the contrary, it confirmed it. He came back with the wild life of California and Colorado and Texas in the middle of his heart. There was no life worth living but that of an Indian or a cow?1 lrr?/1 4-rv 4-V*a amiiro nnf.il KJKJ J . J.JLO WI11XOU VV vuu wv|u?w even he sometimes felt as if he must sell Mowbray ami go with his boy to the prairies. But the wish was only in the squire's imagination; and it was his son's blood. I'll say this?the lad could not help it. It was his nature. And at last his father understood that he could no more make an English squire out of Thomas Mowbray tlian he could make a plow horse out of a red deer. They did not quarrel or angrify about it. They talked the case sensibly over in my presence, and the young man was glad to take five thousand pounds as his portion and go off with it to the West to make his own life and be his own master." Apainful silence followed this story. The lawver breathed with difficulty, and bad been obliged to rest frequently during its recital. Richard sat with a troubled face. He needed no one to point out to him the unfortunate influence this position would have on his" relations with Katherine. The laird would very justly refuse to sanction an alliance while his social standing was so undetermined. He looked anxiously into the lawyer's face, and asked: "Was not this agreement formally authenticated?" "Certainly. I put it down myself in black and whit**, and your brother sigped it." "That is, he relinquished all claims on Mowbray for five thousand pounds?" "Yes." "Alien 111 J lints IU i.u.vwuiaj xa ^i^iu enough." "Your father thought so until just before his death, when I was going through his papers with him. Then the real condition of the agreement struck him: Thomas Mowbray was not of age when he signed it. A minor could not alienate his rights. The transaction had been concluded three days too soon." "And you did not know this?" "Certainly I did not. "Whether your father had mistaken the date of hia son's birth or whether he overlooked the condition altogether I do not know. I confess that it never occurred to me to question the majority of Thomas Mowbray, for travel had given him a very mature appearance." "Had you not known him all his life?" "By no means. Until your birth Squire Mowbray scarcely ever lived in Mowbray. His son Thomas was nevei here, to my knowledge, buton the one occasion when he freely resigned his right in the property for five thousand ponnds. I doubt if the villagers knew of his existence. The action was in accord with his own urgent desire, and there was nothing but affection in joni father's willingness to accede to it. He went with his son to Liverpool and watched him sail away forever from his sight. And he took on a deal about his going?he did that! Then he met your mother, and was comforted by her love and by your birth." "Did not Thomas Mowbray write tc father from America?" "At first he did. Letters came at intervals from California, Arkansas, Mexico and Texas, and soon after your mother's death?when you were ten years old?he sent 'an announcement of his marriage. This letter was dated La Gnadalupe, and was mailed from San Antonio. The squire wrote him a long reply and sent him a picture of your mother and yourself. Since that time there has never been another word from him." "And Thomas Mowbray might come back and lawfully claim an elder brother's right?" "That is tbe case in its absolute {possibility. But I do cot believe Thomas Mowbray would do such a thing. Your father had the greatest confidence in his honor. He was opposed to my making any formal memorandum of the agreement; he said it looked like a doubt of his son's word. When Thomas signed the paper he got up and went to the window and looked at nothing rather than see him doit. He always thought for other people's feelings that way, did your father." "And, after all, the agreement is valueless?" "Quite so." "What would you advise me to do?" [to be continued.] PreliUtorlc Irrigation in Egypt. While modern English engineers are steadily carrying out a plan for irrigating Egypt that is to restore prosperity to its sun-parched fields, an P.nnlioli nntifinorion l>.n<a fnnnd At, ?fc ..J ? Heirakoupolis the records of a primitive system of irrigation that was carried on no less than six thousand years ago. The changeless East has rarely vindicated the reputation of its history in such convincing sort. Before the pyramids of Gizah were planned, or the mighty steps of Sakkara completed, at the very dawn of those earliest dynasties of primvoeal mouarchs who ruled in the floary dawn of Egypt's history, the limestone mace-head of King Nar-Mer recorded the turning of the first sod in some primitive scheme of canalization. Even theu four distinct types of population can be traced, and on the pivot of au ancient door is carved the bent figure of a bound captive, supporting its weight upon his back, exactly like those Romanesque or early Gothic figures to Tlnnfn nrvmnarorl tVio snftVrinf souls of his Inferno. Even so long ago, the vase of sculptured diorite shows a skill in working hard material that would he difficult to surpass today, and the toilet dish from Denderah, dating about 2450 B. C.; is as delicate a bit of workmanship in the same stone as ever could be produced. Professor Petrie found an ordinary coat button, too, carved roughly in bone, that opens up quite novel problems of attire before the days of ''double-breasted vests." The laud of slaves and warriors and priests has always been the same in its essentials. The beauty of its art alone has per!iahed.?St, Jftiues Gf.zstte. -v.--.., / "sewiewi i the realm New York Cut (Special).?The new shirt waists are not so very different from those of last year after all. They are made of deeper blues, pinks and lavenders, and broad stripes have taken the place of the hair-line effects of last year. The inch-wide stripe is P0PUL4R TYPE OF BHIRT WAIST. seen, bnt much smarter are the halfinch wide stripes of color alternating, with hair-line stripes of color dividing an inch-wide 6iripe of white. Fine, firm Madras is the best material for well-made waists, bnt silk and linen, muslin and gingham, are used. The backs of most of the new shirt waists are almost devoid of fulness, and some dispense with the becoming yoke.popnlur for so many seasons. In design there is little, change from last year. Perpendicular tuoks Jor piping that stand out instead of lying fiat oh either side of the front are pretty for slim figures, and more suitable to stout wearers than are the broad crosswise tucks which they wore 30 persistently last summer. A rather novel shirt has a strip of white muslin down the front in which buttons and bnttonholes are placed. On either side of this strip and placed about their own width apart are groups of tucks edged with white muslin. The work is so . daintily done that it is not at all clumsy, and the effect of the white muslin stripes on the rose or blue or green of the shirt is cool and summery. Shirt waist sleeves have not suffered in the general reduction. They are just about the size now that they were then when these cool bodxcm | " " POINTED BASQOTE WITH I ices first took the world of women by storm. i A Stylish Combination. A stylish combination of silk poplin, velvet and liberty satin is illustrated in the large engraving, by May Manton, in three shades of violet. The pattern provides for extra under-arm gores -which are especially advantageous in diminishing the proportions of a too generous figure. The full vest portions are arranged upon lining fronts that have double bust darts and close invisibly in the centre. The fronts are fitted by deep single bust darts and are reversed at the front edge to form pointed lapels, widest at the shoulder and gradually tapering toward the lower edge. The backs are trimly adjusted by the usual number of seams, over which a seamless back fits smoothly across the shoulders with the fulness at the lower edgelaid in overlapping '? ' ? i 1 i 1.? plaits tbat are nrmiy iacKea. uowu uelow the waist line. The neck is finished with a close standing collar. The sleeves, of fashionable proportions, are two-seamed, the fulness at the top being arranged in gathers over fitted linings, while the wrists and J lower edge of basque are finished with bands of velvet. The mode is adapted to silk or wool . fairies. The vest can be fashioned in I white or colored satin overlaid with I mousseline, lace, spangled or jetted gauze. Checked ami figured taffetas make pretty vests of this description, while the garniture is invariably ribbon, p?aloon, braided or jetted passementerie. To make this basque for a lady of medium size will require one and three-fourth yards of material fortyfour inches wide. A Fh<1 in the Silk Skirt. The latest fad for trimming silk skirts is that of very deep accordionplaited rnflles, which are over a half yard deep. They are pinked on the edge, and are caught up with festnous of very bright ribbons, which make them very pretty, indeed. If the skirt is faced with some material more substantial than silk it will wear for a long time, and the ruffles will be stronger for being looped up. Most Expensive of All. The most expensive of all waists are those of uncut velvet, made with a yoke and narrow vest of lace, and below the yoke a trimming on the velvet of pailettes of different colors and a border ribbon. These waists have small sleeves with pointed cuffs, completely coverod with pailettes and the riobon trimming. Few black silk or t V " , . j OF FASHION. $ satin waists are worn except by people who are in mourning. When they are worn they must always have a bright tie or some lace at the throat. The satin ones look particularly well when they have rows of the cording pat on the bias. The cording seems to relieve the dead black of the satin. A heavy quality of black satin should never be used; it is too stiff and unyielding?the liberty satin is a good material for anything of this sort. Popular Tinted Foalarda. The materials that are specially popular for the warmer daya of the season are delicately tinted and pat* terned foulards, various kinds of soft catton goods, very fine cashmeres and dresses entirely formed of lace to be worn over foundations of either black or white. Black lace is used over black silk and white lace over white. Few combinations of color are permitted The Poiy Hat in Vogue. The posy hat is still with us. The hat that is a mass of flowers is to continue in favor, unless all signs fail, and the woman who has been wearing a flower hat can take it to green fields and pastures new. A hat that is a mass of big pnrple pansies is very beeominc and if it is lightened by a red, red rose at the top nothing could be prettier. Basqtte* Are Revived. Basques are coming in again, and many new blouses are made with this part to be worn ontside. Basques of coats are still quite short, but will be longer as the spiing advances. Short basques, scolloped out and finished with rows of stitching, are smart and effective for walking jackets. Harmony In Jewel Colon. A woman who has many pretty jewels says that she does not care for them for themselves, but only as th?y harmonize with tne color tones of her costumes. She varies them with her different frocks with a pretty effect. Skirt Materials Mach Used, Accordion-plaited materials are still in very gr^at favor in the making of skirts, waists and ' overdresses or gowns designed for bolh women and children. LEVERS AND FULL VEST. Military Cycling Costumes. Military cycling gowns are one of *v>/* f/innino Jr. "Poria TVia skirt and Wio anuui&o iu jt (Miwi coat are of dark blue cloth, trimmed with narrow gold braid. The jacket has a piping and facing of red, and the whole is crowned by a dashing military cap. A Favored Handkerchief. Cream and brown linen handker chiefs, edged with cream lace and in some instances hemstitched with bright red, are novel and very much in favor. Short Shoulder Capes. The specialty of this season's models will apparently be the use of short shoulder capee, coming from the collar and standing out slightly over the shoulders. Some times only one little cape may be used, or there may be three or four. These are lined with silk and piped to match, while they may be either plain, embroidered or overlaid with delicate tracery of beadwork. A single shoulder cape of rather coarse lace will also be much in vogue. Sleeves still continue to be like the skirts, skin-tight aDd very long. As to coats for early spring wear these may either be short, with very abbreviated basques cut away in curving outlines over the hips, or else three-quarter length, with the basque sloping from the front to the back. Lace is to be very much worn, especially in conjunction with any soft light cloth. The favorite form of skirts has no seam in the back and CAPE FOR A iiADY. prows gradually more flowing in outline from just above the knees to the feet. A very scant flounce of curving shape is used on some of the new dresses, while others from the knees downward, are a mass of tiny and very full frills. . - - r. THE DEWEY MEDAL 7 Will Be Presented 'to Each Officer and Mall Wlio Fousrht Under the Admiral. By the courtesy of the sculptor, IJaniel 0. French, Harper's Weekly is able to publish the first authentic reproduction of his completed design for the Dewey medal. The Tiffany com? b a sjtaric ''a ? ',2X4 c o*i /v/ i^Tv#' '. 'X After a photograph in Harper's Weekly. Copyright, 1899, by Harper & Brothere. pany will cut the dies and strike the medals in copper?1635 in all. Upon the obverse side is a life-like presentment of the head of Commodore Dewey, with the following inscription: /'The gift of the people of the United States to the officers and men of the Asiatic Squadron under the command of Commodore George Dewey." Upon the reverse, surrounded by the words: "In memory of the victory of Manila Bay, May 1, 1898," is the figure of a yonng sailor, stripped to the waist, who sits upon a gun, with the flag across his knees, and one foot resting upon a swinging loop of rope. In this beaatifal figure Mr. Frenoh has admirably embodied the genius of the episode in its highest and purest aspeot?the spirit of the fleet, such as one's imagination may picture it to have been on that memorable morning, and also the spirit of the country on whose behalf ? ? mi , it was going into action. me cmei characteristic of the face is youth? the beauty, confidence and pure intention of youth. In the pose of the figure are alertness, fearless uprightness and the unconscious grace and composure of assured strength. ' The very disposition of the flag is suggestive. The moment represented is not the one of victory, but of preparedness thereto. The flag is not a menace to the world, nor under the pretext of its name is a policy of aggrandizement foreshadowed. It is safe in the keeping of Young America, and when the cause is right it will be uplifted. Its placing in the circle secures an admirable balance between the varied portions and the flat ones very enjoyable to the eye. The strong horizontal Vio* fsvrmnd Tiv tliA nannnn. low down in the space, lifts np the lithe figure of the youth, and gives it a dig-* nity and sense of size very difficult to obtain in so small a compass. Again, the poise of that foot upon the rope? observe how exquisitely sensitive it is!?brings into the narrow space at the bottom an interest and distinction which make it contribute to the decorotion of the whole. Lastly, the whole possesses that quality which is such a charm of low relief?"enveloppe"?as the sculptor* call it. Atmosphere is, perhaps, our nearesO English word; the pattern of the decoration is not one merely of liget and dark, cut of several degrees of light and several degrees of dark, as if viewed through varying planes of atmosphere. The result is, though, not hard and gritty, but luminous, rich and velvelv.?Harper's Weekly. The Original "Bock of Agea." There are few photographs, outside of those relating to Bible lands, that -will possess a greater fas wwa m<&rr'3L "EOCK OP AGES," AT EUEEIXGTOS C00MBE. [The rent elilT, in whoso hollow Toplndj found shelter from a thunder-storm, is in Somerset County, England.) cinatiou for Christian readers everywhere thau that which appears below. It is a photograph of that wonderful rock in Burringtou Coombe, England, which afforded Rev. Augustus Montague Toplady the inspiration which found expression in the imperishable bymn, "Rock of Ages." At one point there is a conspicuons crag of mountain limestone seventy or eighty feet in height, a prominent object on the right hand to any one approaching from the Blagdon road. Kight down the center of this mass of stone is a deep fissure, in the recesses of which grows many a fern, while on the hillside around are trees, whose stunted growth aud wind-worn appearance tell of the scanty soil anil the exposed situation. In this fissure Toplady took refuge from a thunderstorm, and it was this "cleft" and this rock which suggested the central idea of this beautiful hjmu. \ y.' * ' f % * ^ A TEMPERANCE COLUMN: - : \ " ' r * . THE DRINK EVIL MADE MAWF?ST IN MANY WAYS. < < i An Apostrophe to Water A Chi car A Judge Declares Tiiat Nine-tenth* ol > ' > Our Law-breaking la Hatched In tb? Saloons?At the Itoot of A^ll Evil. What falls from Heaven refresaingly? Not wine, but water clearl \ What drapes with brida-like veil the moan* tain side? \ Not wine, bat water clear! I What gently drops from sympathetic eyes? Not wine, but water clear! 1 What bears rich laden ships from land to land? | ' Not wine, but water clear! J \ In baptism's holy rite bedows thabrow Red wine, or water clear? J Thank God, a Kipling song shlll cheer! and cbeerl ' u I Not wine, but water clear!1 1' ?E. C. Martin A Stem Indictment. \ The presiding judge o( one of tee Chicago courts said recently to anlntev Ocean interviewer: 1 "You mny ransack the pigeon hopes all over the city and country, and loolk ovet such annual reports as are made uto, but they will not tell half the truth. No* only are the saloons of Chicago responsible tot the cost of the police force, the fifteen jus* tice courts, the county jail, a great portion of Joltet State prison, the long mirdez trials, the coroner's office, the morguow the Eoorhouse, the reform schools, .the jiipd* ouse. Go anywhere you please,[ an^^B . will almost invariably find that at the root of all evil. The gamblloj^^B houses of the city, aiffi the bad. houses the city, are the direct outgrowth o( tho^^B boon companions of drink. Of all the^^| prostitutes of Chicago, the downfall ol al- M mast every one can be traced to drunken* ness on the part of their parents or hus- H bands, or drunkenness on their own part. ^9 Of all the boys in the reform school at Pontiac, and in the various reformatories about the city, ninety<flve per cent. ar? the children of parents who died through drink, or became criminals through toe same cause. Of the insane or demented ' coses disposed of here In court every Thun- DW day,,a moderate estimate Is that ninety per c<Jnt. are caused by alcohol. I saw estimated the other day that there were ten thousand destitute boys in Chicago who are not confined at all, but are run* H ning at large. I think that is a small asti* H mate. Men are sent to jail for drunken* W ness, and what becomes of their families? S The county agent and poerhouse "provide H for some. It is a direct expense to the H community. Generally speaking, these H families go to destruction. The boys turn thieves, and the girls *ad mothers gen erally resort to the slums. The sandbag* H ? 3 ..j ......11. .It. " V uiuiuciois auu luu^a gouciaujr ui iuday, who are proseouted In the police courts and criminal courts, are tbe sons of M men who fell victims to drink. The per- - j centage in this case is fully tdxty-fl ve per .fl "I know whereof I speak; 'This saloon,* 9 'that saloon,' 'the other saloon'?saloons* fl saloon, saloons, saloons?figured con* , -S ptantly and universally in the anarchist H trials. Conspirators met in saloons; dyna mite was discussed in saloons; bombs were M distributed over saloons; armed revolution- fl ists were drilled above, under, or in fwrsaloons; treason made assignation in loon?, and time and time again witnesses ^HG Bay,'We went to such and such a saloon for wine and beer.' There is not aoounlwp^M under the sun in which lurks' so moon treason, revolution and murdtor, as in the> saloons of the United States, and notably in the larger cities. These saloons pest* harbor thieves, thugs, hous4-breaker?J ' Jj anarchists, robbers nod murderers. Niqe- 1 tenths of the law-breaking in America l?\ batched In saloons, nnd the admitted fact is palliated by the axiom that saloons ar? headquarters for town, city, and even national gerrymandering. The liquor conn- , ter is the scaffold on wbioh a half-hundred' _ 1 beautiful, vital American things are assassinated, on which scores of horrid ' plagues are glorified." A PhyilclRn'i Experience With Alcohol. I had never been much in svmpathy with any temperance movement until I served as an interne in an alcoholio ward of a large city hospital, writes a pbvsician in th? New York Suu. I have Inquired into the habits of many alcoholics and the circnm- BtRDces of their intoxication. I have come to believe restraint Is Im perative. Lessen the opportunities offered for alcoholic Intoxication by progressive taxation of the liquor traffic; say add $200 a year to Raines law taxation for tea or twelve years as an initial step. Then take your soundings. Let benevolent men or the city found twenty-live "Cooper Unions" as "workingmen's clubs," or more, perhaps fifty?in different parts of the city for ball-room , dwellers and others, nnd yon will deprive the saloon of a large share of its patronage , Practical agitation for legal redress will receive tbe support of alcoholics themselves. Class legislation, even against ^ saloon keepers, is always odious, and justly V so. Agitation from the parson's study i? foolish. Too many clergymen knew noth- ;.j lng of tbe conditions under which fifty per cent, of tbe population of this town live. Physicians who, during their college years and after graduation, have worked among tbe poor and for them know of their nakedness and starvation and alcoholic Indulgence, both by men and women. "Xo Drink While on Duty." _ Close upon the abolition of the "canteen" in tbe army come? the cutting off of Jacky's official "grog" by the Navy Department. 'Both these moves are in response to the elaborate experiments tbat have been made by the military and naval experts of the great European war establishments. They are also in line with the rules now rigidly enforced by every great corporation forbidding their employes to drink while on duty. The complicated and exacting machin- v ery of modern civilization calls for complete presence of mind at all times in all of its directors, high and humble. There pnn hi>nn cnnfnulnn no slinshod worfe. no mixture of business and pleasure. There must bo alertness, attention, clear-headedness?the best service from every muscle iwd faculty. 'No drink while on duty" is an axiom not of morals but of sagacious prudence.? New York World. A Good Book Worth a Dozer. Drink*. Of this you may ba sure: Your best thoughts and your best moments will be free from alcoholic stimulus. And the young man who wants to get on and win in thu lisht iato which he was born need not complain if he drugs and dulls himself into even greater inferiority thau he got at Vifrfh A '?nr\H hnnb f c trnrf h u A r\ f cups that cftecr. A good friend, sober, quiet, intelligent, is worth more than hogsliewds full of cheering cups.?.Sew York Journal. Temperance Notei. Some of the generals are talking abou\ introducing a free ration of beer and spirits iotothp army. They claim that it would increase the fighting and staying qualities of tue soldiers. Tbo other day, says thePaulist Calendar, New York, in one of oar public schools a cbild of twelve years was noticed under the*' influence of drink. It had come to school repeatedly in that condition. The silly mother thought whisky was good for it? health, and so gave the child a dose before going to school. Such instances as the above may be looked for as long as the people are persuaded that intoxicating drinks are 'sscntial to one's health. "Many a j.ie," says the Weekly Freeman of Dublin, ?u answer to a correspondent's queries regardiug good reading, "would rather spend half a crown on bad whisky than two pence on agood book." Thesumd thing holds good In this country. The Hon. .Tosepn H. Choate, the newlyappointed Ambassador to England, spok? at a temperanc meeting In New York City recently and said: "There are more than. 7500 saloons in New York, and each represents damage to families, incalcuable. I believe that more money Is spent for drink in this city than for food or for the education of children. Tbe law can attend to the reduction of the number of saloohs, but it cannot prevent tbo debauching of politics, disgrace of families and ruin to the community which is accomplished ttrough thein." . L A