University of South Carolina Libraries
The kinc ^ { ...:h0n1 I \ A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIF BY MAURICE Coprri?ht, 18?2 and 1PP3 " * ; CHAPTER XV. CONTINUED. F Tliore is a great reserve in the Scotch piysique as there is in the Scotch character. Mr. Burns was an extreme example, else how could he have lain there on the wet soil of the woods for three days and nights without so much as a sip of water and with nothing to stop the bleeding of Ibis wound? He was but half conscious most of the time, and yet he heard a panther creaming all through one night, and once a wolf barked and howled close by. There was nothing in these eounds to frighten him; they came to him as in a dream, appealiug to no particular sense, touching no particular chord of consciousness, simply echoing through him. Slowly he sank ( away, weaker and weaker, down int^f darkness. Every thought faded^ut L but one?the thought of failui^_the A thought that he wa3 dyin^^yjthout hope. _ ^ On the thirJMjjB^tfhe afternoon, Borne great evil-looking, with bare, beads and hungry eye^^pP^^qai]iQg {ow round ?uu iu mm. jcitj saw H them, andJ^T J. "They will oat me as soonFr,a(j;>? there was no horr^her M?H;e<3 witli tho vision, |H whic^t, Lown'ther and displayed his MRB scatter Bell wfl 'clean-picked bones. mK ^^C/LaUmnt matter to him, old, de* jftf went jandoned, dying, if vultures p their work, at once? Could anunp^rtoD. Teaks add one pang to his torKay, R. HnjH|fe*s. Huckal' l^ciay mornin;th singular minuteness, for his mentioned'Te was ample, ho reviewed his that place t;iouB life, seeking for some justiWoodmen -*on of ttl? ftct of Divine Provi, Mr. Chinee in thus casting him aside like HWe^ bit of old rubbish after all this eatiD> wearying and fruitless effort?after all his trust and prayer.# , ' And little Margaret?what of her? Beautiful,1 ycfting, purev with eve-ry bud of tender nromis^g iast showing the pink?why shoul?i she have been made the plaything of an gnormlous wrong, the helpjess .victim of an.' ac1 . trocions fate? He sjaw her as sbe'was when she left him, fair, bright^ lovin^jj^^g^of his.widowed heart, Iter, by step, 1 descent, she lay rfl?HRH^HBM8^Btfjclered by that man. 9^E9j^H^BnH|K|^V'ey'ion3 cerebal action, B^n^n|KKojte the correlation of BHHfiK^RHB|^8^n?ce with the girl's, a flash, the meetHH|nMmr9 with the succesB9nH?gBHHB|^Bushes of her misernHMQBBHHVit where he songht confidence aud bewith greatest faith, met with calamity or WHSBtftejlMfiHbsperate step in infamy. HH9nMfl|Hras the fanlt? Surely HEHKflHl^^U^Hbeen born with the taint blood. BBffl^HMlMWMMacCoIlongh! The name IBBUjj^Rh the old man's fevered the tall, dark outlaw HBIH ^ his vision liko an aotor of melodrama. What HHKt strength, what immunity ^^^SBphysicil effects of moral iu the pursuit of this had wasted himself, his HgHis career, his prayers, his not a drop of desire [BH*n lost by the outlaw. It HHHer food for reflection for the BHPre&cher as he lay on the his withered limb3 out M-d and the weakness of death |Bs nerves. Slowly his mind ^Ped its way down to that last Jene and began to take up the deils one by one, analyzing them with erciless exactness. Meanwhile, by ?at mirinna nnwftr of tha hrain which I Enables it when abnormally stimulated lo follow two lines of thought at Jnce, he waa reviewing Kirk Macfcollough's origin and accounting B)r his career by referring all his Krker charactcrists to inheritance om his father, Thomas MacCollough., ho committed a great political crime Bid was transported therefor in the Brst prime of his manhood while Kirk His yet a mere boy. Burns had never sen Thomas MacCollough, nor had ne known much of the family before Kirk began to pay attention to Margaret; but since then he had fouud out the history which now seemed to account fitly for the young man's unparalleled course of evil. From father to son had descended the curse of outlawry. RB|H But it was natural tbat Burns's mind, HBfiB even in the last extremity of despair, should turn with all its Scotch stubHU bornness and tenacity to take a re KgV iigious surrey,60 to call it, of the situation. Perhaps it would bo better to eay that his thoughts were not driven at once, even by direst calamity, out of the groove in which they had been running since first lie began to, be a preacher. It had been his rule to measure everything by the standard disclosed to him in the Bible. "Thus eaith the Word" had been his hobby, his guide, his comfort. Never during 1" Lis long, absorbing chase after his [ child aud her atrocious lover, had he fr- forgotten the Sabbath or failed to r keep it holy; never had he neglected * ^ a frwma a# Trnraliin onrl nf I liUO OIUJ^I^ Junuo vi n viou*^ muv* I prayer :o which his austere conscience P and the obligations of his church r -v bound him. Ho had lived unspotted, I aud now death hovered over him iu I that lonely place, with none to lift his ft head, speak a word of comfort to him S or to touch his lips with water. Upou his soul the bitterness of all this setB tied, as his brain drew it in and anaB lyzed it. 9F Suddenly there was a revulsion, aud it was as if the poles of his nature B had been reversed on the instant. S From some source he gathered strength to lift his head and shoulders; then, a leauing on oue arm, he gazed wildly I around. There was a terrible look iu I his face. He almost bounded to his ^ feet and stood swaying and trembling, his long legs far apart and one hand raised far above his disheveled head. j,,,, i OFak BY ISLAND E DURING THE WAR OF 1SI2. i THOMPSON. Eobert Bonner'e Son*. ' A dying tiger might have glared as did he, and it was with a wild beast's voice that he cried aloud: "I will not die?I will not die?I I cannot die, Kirk MacCollough, while while you live!" j It was a grand theatre /"in which to make such a speech. The dusky trees and the lurking wildAhings were fitting audience. The realism of the acting was superhuman, and it was also- superhumivaily romantic. The stage accessories were in perfect harmony witli Loneliness, grimness, solemnity brooded there, and the wide silencers fitting applause. Two of the ewft birds took wing with loud flaPMng and sailed away from the dead lwffgh on which they had been sttting /so piitiently. Burns was indirectly 'aware of them, as he rolled his bloodshot eyes and shook his head till the tangled hair fell over his forehead and temples. His strength was but spasmodic. The next moment he tumbled down motionless. Slowly the sun passed on to the western slope of the sky. The hideous vultures returned to circle round and round, lower and lower; but they did not dare make the attack. They might have done it soon, however, had they been left to their will. Once more the old man roused himself and struggled to his feet. The I /laafVi flororl rmf. r>f his face. the frenzy of death glittered in hlsl eyes. There were fragments of djBfji leaves and clots of earth in his jjSir and beard. Again he fluDg his hand on high and stood wavering^ and trembling, while his voice brok<porth with awful sonorousness: "Vengeance! 'Vengeance isjune, and I will repay 1'" This time the theatre held onS human auditor, who stopped shMsJj his walk and gazed with wid^jj^^&iyes at the towering aotor^^^^^Hrild scene. At first Burn?^^H^B,ost twice his statuj^^^^^^^Hwas the expression of^^^^^^^^Vseen agai^st dusl^^^^^^^^^Hjomy trunks''-of the "Wall,. tah^^^^^^^^^^H)-kitting o n W'at in all^^^^^^^^^^^Voing' yer?" MMH Burns start^^^H^H^^^Bf the haiS^^^^H^^r The effort lost himl^^^^^^Q^ down he fell again, outstretched. ^DRSnnw "Hello! HellJ^^^^^^Hie man, running forward crooked leg would permit, ^^^^HBfiin' parson?" I^HHh He half recoiled .i^^^Hght of the blood on the Burus's^Hs, and his rough face showed suq^^B and quick sympathy. He had be^Rccustomed to open-air tragedies, ^Kd, indeed, been a star performer in^Rt a few; but here was a mystery as wl as a catastrophe. For lack of oth^ vent to relieve his feelings withal he began to swear disapprovingly, intimating through his oaths that it would please him to hew limb from limb the mau who hurt Parsons BurnB. "Parson, parson!" he eiclaimed, stooping over him and touching his shoulder. "Wat's the matter of ye, parson?" "Then, as he received no answer, he straightened himself up, leaned on his gun and scratched his head with an air of contemplative confasion. Just then, a horse gave forth one of those casual snorts characteristic of the genus. It was the animal that Burns had ridden. Not far away it was browsing dolefully, with a melnn-. choly twist in its cadaverous neck and switchiug its tail this way and that more oy iorce oi uuun. w?u iu icspouse to the attaok of one or two thriftless flies which were content to worry a skin too tough for their tiny spears. "Yer, yer, parson! Wat's this mean?" he went on, blustering a trifle and shaking the old man's shoulder. "Can't ye speak to a feller? Air ye bad hurt?" Burns writhed about, turning his (jrimy face full upon his interrogator. The stare he gave the man fairly chilled him. "Pierre Kameau?that's your name, eh?" he gurgled harshly. "Pierre Rameau, I will kill you?ki-i-ill you!" Ho tried with desperate energy to gain his feet, but he faltered and fell. ' Kill! Kill!" lie moaned. "I caunot?I will not die till I have killed you!'' ' The incomparable strangeness of his voice and the awful expression of his couutenauce cannot be indicated; nor can mare words give any adequate impression of the man, old, withered, ill-clad, groveling in the wet, sandy soil, soaked in blood and panting forth intolerable passion. He looked scarcely human?more like a beast of prey, wounded to death, tearing madly, blindly at whatever he could feel. His words soon became indistinguishable aod ran together into a harsh, guttural growl. Dick Beckett (doubtless the reader baa recognized him) was at first too I much astonished to be at himself. As soon as he began to pull hia wits togecher, however, the whole truth became more than a suspicion in his mind. "Who hurt ye, Daddy Burns?" he demanded in his natural tone of voice. "War it that air Pierre Rameau?" Perhaps hearing Burns repeat the great robber's name had suggested tho thought to Dick Beckett, or it may have risen out of the prevalent habit of laying everything cruel and otherwise unaccountable at the feet of Rameau. Dick kuelt down beside the old man, and, still holding his gnu in one hand, felt of tho wound, after pulling away the reut clothos from around it. i Iu vain ho tried to arouse him. "Well?well?tut, tut, tut!" lie j spluttered. Rising again to his feet and eland-! 7 I - ing with mcft of his freight on his ' crooked leg, ho contemplated the situa- ' tion, while with the fingers of his left hand he worried the frowzy red hair ! that hung uuder the brim of his bat- ; tered cap. "Poor ole daddy!" he exclaimed, 1 after a while. "He do seem to bo j 'bout done for!" Dick possessed executive ability of j a sort, and when he got his faculties i rightly put together there was no such a thing as hia giving up to circumstauffes contrary to his wish. He examined Burns and found that he was not yet dying. The next thing was to save him. This looked like a forlorn hope, but he would try it at all events. So he caught the lingering horse and with its aid bore Burns through the wood to his cabin. Here I insert a short paragraph from the "Honey Island Records." The reader will feel, in reading it, a waft : from the old reckless life of the frontier: "Dick Beckett," it goe* on to say, ; "found the preacher iu a sad condition when he reached home with him, j which it was after dark at the time, | and he struck a light. The wound ; oJrln /3nnr Kw a rnafnl ' >vua a icui iu duo otuv wj M bullet that had been amaziugly flattened on a silver watch afore doing it. j 'I will save him!' said. Dick Beckett, 1 who was a good nurse besides a dis- j tracting fiddler: and, belike, he had original medicine?strange roots and ! such. Some do say he did possess a j root of the man-plant which he j salvedthehurtwith. Sure enough,auy- j way he cured him betimes. What they ! do say, also, is that Dick*Beckett did j fiddle and play profane musik unto ' the ; preacher what time he conva- j lesced, even such tunes as 'Sugar in ' the Gourd' and "Biding on a Bail.' | No doubt, however, this matters not, j seeing that the preacher survived and.; at last went on his way." In the French version of the stury , there is a statement' not to be found in the othe^accounts. ; "^(?ani>)'' b? deoied,"- runs this! CJ?Q%edocum^nt. ^hich appears to bo j transition of some lostEng- j lish writing?"1* cannot be denied j that Bums, the preacher, did sweai I vengeance on Pierr'S Bameau, the robber (forban is the French-word used), J anl did fixnreaa himself in language ' dreadful in its nature."^Some think ( that this Diok Beckett hafltfiddled all J the piety aud tenderness ^>f religion J out of the old man's 6on? for, after i this, he is mightily chnnjbd in his temper and disposition, ande^pe desyl perate acts are set down to his Dick Beckett himself, in his extfcirc old age, when his mind .ran mostly on things long since done, was sometimes ready to talk about Burns; but even the garrulity of nearly a centnry of years did not overcome a certain tanJalizing discretion. The most that he would tell was to the effect that Burns seemed a little "onsettledin 'is upper story w'en 'e got well." "Yes," he wouldremark, "I 'member how 'e looked w'en 'e up an' tole me good-bye an' went off to s'arch for Pierre Rameau. 'Twas ob a Thursday mornin* an' 'e said: " 'Farewell Dick. I go unto Honey Island an' woe be upon that infernal darn rascal what stole my chile!"' Doubtless this seemed to the aged fiddler the exact language of Burns; but it does not sound like him. If we cannot wholly believe that there could have been a change ao sudden ana so radical in the character of one who had been for so many years a sincere and singularly humble-minded preacher, we must, at least, give due weight to the evidence tending to prove it. One thing is pretty conclusively settled: Burns did penetrate to the innermost fastnesses of Honey Island, and, not finding Pierre Rameau there, made his way, by what route is not known, to New Orleans, where for some time he attracted little attention, though he wandered about by night and by day, going into all soit of places, his eyes full of a half-smoldering fire and glancing keenly into the face of every person he met. He had no money, and how he lived has never been found out, though after a time he met Vasseur, who thenceforward took such care of him as circumstances permitted. He had but one thought and that thought was Pierre Ramoau. (to be continued.) Tito Spanish Minister ana Ills Wiie. When the Spanish Minister and his American wife drive out in Washington thay attract no little attention. They drive in a very handsomely appointed victoria, and the men on thj box are in very light liveries with brilliant scarict cockades in their Lata. The duke is very fair and the duches3 a decided brunette, pnd they maka a very handsome couple. They are great friends of Admiral and Mrs. Dewvy, and if the duohess, who was Miss Lowrie, ever did refuse the admire'I, as the popular storv goes, he has g-:s bravely over his wound, and tho duiro certainly bears no Spanish ? against the hero of Manila, for thstwa are frequently to be seen laughing and joking together. The duk-s is a v-.?ri unostentatious man, and whiio iae duchess goes on a shopping tour ho remains in the carriage and sm;kc?. ?Washington Post. Married at Sunrise. A romantic wedding was celebrated at sunrise tha other day beneath an oak tras in Sellers Park, where Cobbs f!riolr tvinrlrn f.l>? dividing line between Philadelphia aud Delaware Counties, Peua. Tho bride was Miss Sara "Wilmes, aged twenty years, of Darby, and the bridegroom Thoma3 Elcome, of Mecca, Ga. The idea of gettiug married uuder these peculiar condi-, tions originated with the brido, who is a member of the Society of Friends. When asked her reasons for having the ceremony performed in that War, I an': replied: 'I feci that I am entitled to my own ideas, especially on the occasion of my wedding. I dislike conventionalities, ! aud as my Church is the universe and Nature my God, and I am bound bj* no creed, I see nothing strange in our vedding."?New York Sun. Electric a By-l'roduct. It is stated that tLio plate glass works at El wood, Ind., which oper- j ates an up-to date electric light stu- | tion as part of its plant to supply ita ' own li.'rlit, inlands to enter into competition with the local lighting com* j pany to supply the city with lights. This is a uuiquo by-produot of a glass manufacturing establishment. ^ j i * ii Wl / r//-//i//-//'//,//,/r//-/r/r^r//-/r' eS ru.vvTv\.v\;v\. \vv\.v\.\\. uwwii.u. | How Pennsylva: I Miners' Euj yiSfr-jr-rf-jr/ r yr//- rr^'f't r/r/ / // M r*v\\ rvv.Ti "v\ ;\\Vw..w. v\ .\\. \v. w. \v. w MOST people going for the I first time into the region J of tlio great anthracite ? mines would at once put the mine workers and their families in a class apart from the ordinary human beings, writes Paul Latzke, in the Detroit Free Tress. The newspaper accounts have paved the way for this, and the appearance of the men and hoys in their working ontfii clinches the impression. No other body of laborers in the world carry such strong external evidences of their vo cation. From the top of their heads, where their mining lamps flare from tlx- peaks of their queer shaped caps, to their feet, shod with great, gritny. thick-soled, clamping hoots, the m'.neworkers hear tho obtrusive stamp of their trade. They look uncanny, fierce. Take the most mild mannered and inoffensive little man that lives, clothe him in the miners' regalia, let him hammer for eight or ten hours underground. and he will come up a fearsome object. The most courageous woman from the outside world would run from such a man at the least demonstration. Should she unexpectedly meet him at dark on a lonely road, having never seen a miner before, she wonld probably have an attack of hysteria. The faces of the men are hard and seamed and sallow, and. thick with coal dust, they are almost less than human to the unaccustomed gaze. Their eyes are outlined with crows' feet, no matter how young they may be. and they have a peculiar squinting look, due to their constant working in the half gloom of the coal tunnels. It is recorded of some of the mules, tliat pull coal cars in the mines, that, bavI iug worked for years under ground without once coming up. they have gone instantly blind, on being exposed to the daylight. In a measure it is so with the men r.nd boys who spend their working hours day after day, underground. The daylight giv<;sJ them an uncomfortable yetfStffynthey acquire the habit o?f serp^g .tgp their eyes that finally /affects aWfcfc ^muscles of the face. J | owing to these/strongly marked peculia?.tlesy'TIit tliie' mine workers ! are put down at* 4'rst by newspaper J correspondents and writers in the dis! trict as something apart. Even the ; trained observer' requires isrome time j to accustom himself to their striking j appearance and to realize that after ! all these men .are like otbei1 oieq, and that their wpmen. though they have absorbed mpjhy of the characteristics of the men. are like other women. It is not until he has spent a little time among the miners, that,he comes to regard them as ordinary workmen. On a Sunday or holiday with the grime washed off their faces, their mining lamps hung away, their working cioxnes rempvtju, me meu iuu& ?u tutirely different lot of human beings. Then it is only by their crows' feet and the paleness of their skins, due to their underground life, that tb'ey are to be recognized. The first time I ever y?w a considerable body of the miners together was a Sunday mass meeting before the big strike was called. I was amazed at the unlikeness to their pictured appearance. For all that any one co'uld have told the \ m ONE OF TH1J COMPANY STORES. mas6 meeting might have been at Cooper Union in Now York. The'only difference was that most of the men ?and women, too. for there were lots of women in the crowd-rwere much better dressed than ihe crowd that turn out at Cooper Union mass meetI ings. / If the miners and mine laborers were I engaged :n work of an ordinary eharj acter, no one would think of putting them down as being underpaid as a .class. , Compared with other forms of ft'ork. mining, even in its liighest form, is little more than unskilled ! labor, and the scale of prices may i seem high. But in determining the j earnings of miners as compared with j the earnings of other laborers, a nmn? i ber of things are to be taken into consideration. The character of t heir work is extra hazardous. Every time ^?jll fjlj A Gltour OF BRElKElt BOYS AT Tli a man goes down llio shaft lie puts himself at tho mercy of all sorts of; dangers over which he hate no control.? Gas explosion)?, a "S(]ueete." the fall-' ing of a mass of coal, nud a dozen I 1 > nia Coal 11 Work and Live. 1: 85 other thing. -1x1011300 his life every moment that lieig underground. And so shrewdly hav^the operators managed that the fiuan?'iai penalty for an accident novel- fa'is on them. In almost any other pursuit in which an cmj-voye is killed jjs family has a chance of claiming carnages. In the coal mines no one iTer dreams of putting in such a clainas a legal right. Many diligent inquires I made to find a case where a cfal operator had been mulcted in d\mages, for injury and loss of life, l*ut none could be found. There was a hazy story that an unknown operator had once paid the family of an inknown driver boy, who ( j" nL**nss&&^^Si , ,. -?. c # . rTVplcAL Ho^E ~~of" A J ' Pennsylvania HI* r/ i-tu-.j t??r t>..j. 4.l.:? ???? ?a?M I WHS KlJlfU, ?>Ul lill? vuuiu ^ot be traced within the time at the Ordinary man's disposal. Most of the /operators make some sort of reparation by furnishing special employment about the works to the men crippled in their employ, and where the father is killed a place is generally found f<?r the boys if there are any in the family. . But such a thing as a cash settlement is never dreamed of. The little chance that the miners had in this 'direction was skillfully taken from^tliem by a piece of legislation that was passed, "in the interest of miners" and that jwas hailed with joy by the men at that time. This was the creation of county examining boards, to insure miners' licenses. Without such license no man can mine coal. The men foolishs " N ' A TYPICAL BREAKER IN THE COAL MINING REGIONS. ly thought that this would protect them from unskilled competition, and especially from the competition of the foreigners that were pouring into, the region. They soon found, however, that the protection didn't protect. The county boards are paid a fee for each license they issue. Naturally county politicians are not going to work against their own. politics by refusing licenses to men prepared to pay for the luxury. So the."li.'ense" has degenerated into a farce, in so far as it serves as a protection ^against competition. and danger from the presence ' of poor workmen. But for the operating comnanies the measure has proved a great thing. By employing only "licensed" miners they are released legally from till responsibility for accidents. If a miner is buried uuder tons of coal and rock when he is at work, the fault is his own. If the laborer working at his side is also killed, the laborer's relatives may look to the family of the "licensed" miner for damages, but not to the operator. If there is an explosion of gas, the miner i in whose chamber it occurs is the re| sponsible party. J The operator hired him on the | strength of his license, the possession | of which presupposes that the man knows all about gas, and how to get away from the chambers where it lies before it accumulates in dangerous quantities. | The "fire boss" who inspects the mint every morning for gas on behalf of ? | | \ ^ * ic> .? ? r - E HOUTn OF A COLLIERY INCLINE. 1 jtho operator warns the miners as they go in when gas may be expected and it is up to the miners to avoid explosions. This is what the "license" f Lias done for the men. UaMMMiMl I I ./ t "Mother" Mary .Tones, "queen of the mines" and the idol of the miners, occupies a unique place In the world of labor. This kind-hearted, philanthropic woman is so loved by the rough delvers of the coal mines in the 1 anthracite regions that with them her word is tantamount to law. Mrs. Tones is fifty-six years old, silverhaired and beautiful. Her voice has been sweetly eloquent in behalf of the workers whose cause she has adopted, and her appeals have won unstinted sympathy for her simple, hard laboring friends. She lives at Wilk?sbarre. The Woman and Her Conquest. There was once a Woman who Succeeded in Attaching to Herself ? very Eligible Young Man. She ha? Taken Great Pains to do this, and ahe was Very Much Gratified at the R??ult of her Labors. So was Her Mother. They Walked upon the Tier dailv with the Young Man, to Show Him Ofl. ."r\0THElV '! tiiLi-' f ,? I "See what my Daughter lias Done for Herself!" said the ^lother. "And yet it was Nothing to her?she Accomplished it all Very Easily. They are As Good As Engaged. It is Wonderful how My Daughter Attracts E?erybody." The Other Women Heard this and Resented It. "If She can Attract him so Easily," said they, "It would be a Pity if We could not." And they Set About it with Such Zeal that in a Few Days tlie eligible Young Man decided that with So Many to Choose From he need not Make Up His Mind immediately, and the Woman's opportunity was Lost. Then her Mother regretted her Premature Satisfaction, but it was Too -Late. This teaches us that She Laughs Best who Laughs Least.?Harper's Bazar. New Nursery Carousel. If the invention shown in this illustration does not serve to give the children many hours of thorough enjoyment then we miss our guess. Almost every child is ready to ride on a merry-go-round as often as invited, and with this machine set up in the nursery tlie invitation can oe given ; many times a day without squander- j ing a nickel. The inventor's intention is to have one of the older children propel the carousel by means of pedals located as shown. The seats are adjustable, in order that children of different ages may be accommodatcd, "domestic." merry-go-round. anil the baskets were for the babies. The vertical post is pivoted in standards secured to the ceiling ajid floor, and the horizontal arms are rigidly attached to this central post. The pedal shaft is connected to a shaft parallel to the supporting arm by a chain or cord running over the pulleys, and power is thus transmitted from the pedals to the inner end of the shaft, where a gear wheel meshes with a toothed disk attached to the standard, the revolution of the shaft driving the machine around. High Lights. Weak coffee often nerves a man sufficiently not to tip the waiter. Other people's blunders either educate us or make us mere conceited. j Good luck is simply having the j ngility to get on a car that is going j your way. The cheerful life is like all other entertainments; we have to seek it out and pay to get in. We like the people who don't put on too much style and the people who don't put on too little. When we try to blame other people for our mistakes we usually get hold I of the wrong person. Polite people are those who listen to us while we talk about something they have no earthly interest in. It is well occasionally to put yourself in the other man's place, even if j you feel yourself too big to be a good j fit.?Chicago Record. Druramoml Oh*11p. Drummond Castle is one of the finest and most picturesque country seats in Great Britain. The house, the oldest part of whifli dates from 141)1. was rebuilt during the last century in excellent taste, and it contains a tine collection of family and historical portraits. The terrace and gardens, described by Mr. Charles GrenviHe as "fabulous," were originally laid out by John, Earl of Perth, who died in 1UC>2, and they extend over ten acres, and comprise the best features of the French, Dutch and Italian styles. The castle is approached by a magnificent avenue of beeches and limes.?London Truth. SILK fROM THE SPIDER. fl I Beautlfnl Golden Thread Taken From Madagascar Insect*. 9 A French writer, wlio recently paid ^v4B j visit to Tananarive, on the Island of . '3 Madagascar where the web of the J'3| spider is utilized to produce silk, se- _.1S cured some very interesting photo Hil'lHit ll Pglgggj-1 SILK SPIDER IN* THE GUILLOTINE. graphs of the operation, cuts from J which are shown herewith. The in-{ 9 sects are brought from the country In ffijM light baskets by Malagash women oa ' the day upon which the silk is to--be] reeled, and piaced in a frame in; groups. ~ of one or two dozen. It is important Jj not to mutilate or wgBBd thera during- ;fl the operation, since Jbey are!, capable * of being submittedSTfour or.five sue- |fl cesfiive reelings In |tjnonth, represent- f? ing about ,j$our t?usand yards of ^9 thread. 4pthe School of Tananarive the idea ;nas occurred to place... tfc'e #JH spiders,ih what are called "guillo- -;? tines," crescents of which hold theHRjjjtwe^u, tli e abdomen ani^prsQr ...aB y&j are turne<V)fl cornet and their^H|^^B|^H| emerges from the -side on unwinding and twisting of t^^RHSD^^H is done. The Malagash girls, in tltef '#eilcate operaWcn, toucflKfflHBH -35ti * UL UUUUliHtl Ul LUL pi the finger and then gently^^BflBHBU the, latter. thu? carrying single bundle, the twelve four threads to a<^ook tl^^HHE^^B them, into a single oife wlflHB|9Bfl ~ * ~^~+KKBLINO THE SPIDER flHHHH at toward start for the which they are to be woobd^H^^H^Rfl The spiders thus . plete reeling withoqt when they are "emfcty" 1>H|9^B placed by others.^ Those been operated upon are pla^^fl^^HMH| atom in a MMMBm for the purpose and consisti^^H^^H^H boo plauted iu the ground^H^^HHH| neetedbystriupssoas to forir^HB^BMDH After a few days' rest in are taken out in order to be ted to another reeling. The slllHjBHHH a wonderful golden Not an Iron Heart. ^HH^D William Allen was known as "Iron Governor" of Ohio, not beca^^^^H he had been an Iron king or anyth.^H^H like that, but^ because he had not.iH^^H slightest sympathy in the world foi^Hjj^B criminal, and whenever an applicati^^B^H was made to lr.'m to pardon an errl.^U^H one he was as "iron," and could be moved, so be- was called tiie Governor." One Thanksgiving Eve be was ap-^^H plied to for executive clemency by the ^Hj wife of a notorious horse thief, and' one who was serving a third''term, at that. He sat at his desk, his back. <j9 turned to the tearful pleader, not even. j| condescending to look at her. She .9 had brought witlj? her ;i fire-year-oUf' /* girl, who had be<$n quietly watching. | Suddenly the child^ went to him, and, . pulling his coat-taiK. said: "You mean eld Ijhing; I want my 'M And the "Iron Governor" snatchecT^JjB her up, kissed her srjlack in the mouth . .*S and sajd: "Aud j'ou shall hrfve him."' y-gjj True to his word, .'later that day thefo^M wife and child cauje away from the ; prison with the pardoned husband and father.?The Evenlilg Wisconsin. Tlilcklce Frozen JXapldly. ; In the illustration^ is shown an ap*vi^H paratus which will;aid materially in j thp formation of ic<? on a small lake. It is well known tV*it when a body of water starts to freeze on the sur- , a face the latent heat of Congelation Is $ liberated into the waten underneath, ";'J thus retarding the freezinjg process and * often preventing the formiation of ice" vjfl beyond a certain depth. \In localities JH where the temperature seldom falls jB much below the freezing pfojnt It difficult to obtain a good crop'^rr8U by natural methods, in which case this machine will be found useful. The apparatus is so arranged that it will .JH withdraw the water from beneath the '* thin sheet of ice. cool it, and return lt.^.^J sit the opposite side of the pond. The sluice through which the water passes is provided at intervals with planks ' '3? set obliquely, to stir the water and. extract the latent heat. The water * re-enters the pond in a very thin 1 ilirpi-tlv nndor the it-e for matiou. and being now of a low tem- N perature freezes rapidly, the inventor elaiiuiug that :i crop of ten or twelve *':S -5 ,.:4 . J t! FACILITATING THE FORMATION OF ICE, inch ice c:iu he harvested several times a year with the aid of the apparatus. In the cut an endless chain elevator is shown iu the act of feeding the waste ice into the returning stream of water at the rear of the dam, thus further aiding in the cooling process. New Zealand is practically free from i the plague of tramps. J