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' "fflE KING ( _^HONE * ' A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIFE BY MAURICE! cocrricbt, 18?2 and 18P3 t CHAPTER XVI. 2N* THE RAIh\ "Do yon know me?" "Ta! Yes, how do you do?" It was evident tbnt Mr. Vernon was trying hard to cast oft' surprise aud appear quite at ease; but lately he had been finding this more difficult than he was willing to acknowledge. His mind had been disturbed, and pne burning suspicion was falling deeper and deeper into his heart. ^onid not iuet then fairly under r stand why to see Burns standing before him should startle him so. True, / the old man's face and form were / clothed upon with au indescribable suggestion of weirdness; but to amau like Mr. Vernon this could not be a source of mental disquiet; it was not Specially observed on the moment. "I hope that you and your family have been well and happy since the ~ "t*?ie of your great kindness to me," said Burns, offering his hand, which Mr. Vernon felt to be like ice when ho touched it. Not the chill wind nor yet the almost numbing rain could account for the singular shiver and repulse which came out of that hand-clasp into Mr. Vernon's blood. It was like touchingthe flesh of a corjise, only it was fur colder. On the old wanderer's cheeks burned hectic spots. "Yes?yes, we are all very well? yes, very well. I am glad to see yon again, sir. The ladies will be proud tn iiftvft von come. Whv haven't you been to the house?" '*1 have been often tfat could not ' get in. Your man thinks I'm a beggar." "Ta! I'll teaph him better." EvidentiV, the presence of Burns, while not exactly an annoyance to Mr. Yernon was by no means a pleasure. . Aside from any effect produced upon him by 4iv-apparition so unexpected, and taking no account of the startling expression of the old preachv er's strangely emaciated face and cotfcentrated gaze, there was something inopportune, out-of-place and unwelcome in the sudden meeting. We have moments when any index to our past is unbearable. Mr. Yernon was constrained; his manner and voice were unnatural. Burns eyed him a moment, then said: "No. Don't bother with it. I am a beggar, a tramp, and I do not wish | to disturb a bajjpy family. What 11 want is easily told." "Speak it, my dear sir, speak it; it is already yours." ' Mr. Yernon was still holding that clammy hand and looking firmly and kindly^ albeit with a sort of artificial expression, into Burns's deep-sunken and inflamed eyes. "No, that is a polite lie. Wait till I make my desire known, then see if you can be generous." "Ta! I see you are ill. Come in and have some wine." "I drink nothing but water. I am not ill. I am well and strong and shall reach my goal soon." "I am glad to hear it, sir?very glad, indeed. Mr. "Vernon wanted to shake him off for the present and go into the club-room of the Chats-Huants; he wanted to see Colonel Loring again; but Burns would not be abandoned. "I am close on the track of Pierre Rameau," he said, "and I want your help. Turn your hand for me now, and I have him." Mr. Vernon stood silent, and a j peculiar shadow crept over his face. "A.b, I see you are quite prompt, | quite ready!" exclaimed Burns, after \ a mere moment. The irony was merciless. "What do you mean, sir?" demanded Mr. Vernon. A gray film of passion or of some other deep feeling crept over his cheeks above the beard. "Bah! Where were you going just now?" demanded Burns, as if with authority. "Sir!" "I can tell you. You were going upstairs, in there, to the room of the Chats-Huants, to meet Pierre Rameau, the robber. "Sir!" "You know tliat it is so." "It is not true?it is " "Don't be angry. Stop and think. Stop and turn about. I like you; I owe my life to you. I would save yours now. Don't go in there." Two or three suspicious-looking fellows came near and acted as if they were trying to overhear what was i)eing said. Perhaps they -thought it was a quarrel that would end in a fight, the most interesting thing in the world to Buch characters. Burns, like the Ancient Mariner, was holding his auditor with his glittering eye. The wedding-guest was not more enthralled than was Mr. Vernon, albeit the latter turned abrnptly aud would hear no more for the moment. He could'not, however, tear himself loose from the old man, who followed him and stepped again in front of him, now laying his hand on his top-coat's lapel and thrusting his eager, cadaverous lips close, to his oai. "Come aside somewhere, only for a minute. Don't stay here?for heaven's" Bake, don't!" be exclaimed, in a shrill whisper. "The time is at baud! Vengeance i9 mine! Come! I hear them approaohiug." While he spoke, he was fairly forcing Mr. Vernon along, leading him way from the door of the restaurant. About this time, a young man rode . down the street at a -.?'ft pace and, flinging himself from lit- "addle of his 1 beautiful horse, rau into the place, leaving the animal standing uuhitched - and unattended. A little later Colonel Iioriug came out, mounted and rode away. So intent was Burns in his effort to draw Mr. Vernon aside, he did not' jiotico this incident. Out slipped the Chats-Haante. one by one, two by k: ^ k - -* . . ' I > OF;^ Y ISLAND : DURING THE WAR OF 1812. THOMPSON. y F.obcrt Bonner'# Son#. two, quickly, silently, scattering and disappearing as if by magic. A little later, a company of mounted soldiers swept round a sorner ami deployed in front of the building. Of course, they were too late to make the capture they had intended, and when they leaped from their horses, pistols in hand, end rushed in, they discovered that their bird had flown. The clatter of hoofs as they came up attracted Burns's attention. He lot go his hold and turned. "In there! In there!'* he cried, leaping forward. "Up the stairway to the right! Follow me!" Ho led the way with incredible nimbleness for one so old and fraillooking. A lcng, keen knife flashed in his hand. The rush was over in a minute, Doors were dashed open or kicked off their hinges, and the rooms above and below were searched without ceremony. Mr. Vernon stood looking on, apparently quite calm. He had seen Colonel Loring go, and now he comprehended the whole affair. It had been well planned and well executed, notwithstanding the outcome. But for the faithful spy at Jackson's headquarters and the swift courier sent in; the very nick of time, Loring would have been taken. "I said all the time that the old fool was crazy," growled the officer who had led the dash. "The whole story was absurd." "Yes, sir," replied the subaltern whom he addressed, "it was indeed a fool's errand. Storming a junk-shop and led by a ragamuffin!" They were coming oat of the building, disappointed and vexed, ashamed of the part they had been forced to play in a scene so like a* farce. "You'd better1 go home and soak your head, old maul" added one of them, turning With brutal severity and addressing Burns. "I s'pose you've been drunk for a month." The old man paid do attention to the remark^did not even glance at the speaker, but walked forth into the street and awav, with his chin on his breast and his kiiife in hie hand. He overtook Mr. "^ernon, or rather they camo together when the latter emerged from a side street a block or two distant from the scene just witnessed. The rain was still slanting along the wind in a fine drizzle; Burns looked pinched and blue. Without d word, Mr. Vernon drew off hjs top-coat and hung it over the old man's shoulders. "Put awa^ your knife," he said. ''You will need it." Burns obeyed mechanically, hiding ?i?~ It DUUIOWUCVO 1U HAD UUOUUi. JU?A' dently he was but vaguely aware of what he was doing. His vision was introverted, his feelings were numbed. "You will come home with me now," Mr. Vernon added, taking him gently by the arm. "We will have dinner." Burns looked up quickly with a glance of suspicion or, perhaps, of deeper meauing. . "No," he said, "I will not.". Farther words on the subjeot were shut off by the peremptory tone and manner. They walked on a little way in silence, hearing the surface-water bubble in the gutter beside the trottoir. Few people were in the streets; bat the gambling-rooms were full, the coffee-houses noisy. Suddenly Mr. Vernon closed his grasp more firmly on Burns's arm and, looking into his face said with the force of a command: "Tell me, is Colonel Loring Pierre Rameau?" Burns started at the mention of the latter name. "You know Pierre Rameau; I know you do," he answered, elowly drawing out his words. "He calls himself Colonel Loring here in fhe city; but you know that he is Kirk MacriollfirinrV* orvn nf .Tqtiq M anHnllAn orh whose husband was Thomas MacCollougb, the traitor, who was-banished nearly forty years ago. There was a horrible leer in the old preacher's eyes. It was the same glare that had been in the eyes of the vultures when they sailed low over him during those dreadful days in the woods. Behind his words there stretched an infinitude of significance; it was as if each syllable echoed back to some far date and stirred up long buried sentiments. Mr. Vernon stopped short in the street and held him as in a vise. "What are you saying?" he demanded hoarsely. "What do you know about Thomas MacCollough and Jane MacCollough? Who are you?" Burns did not speak forthwith. "Ta! You are crazy!" Mr. Yernon add^d, thrusting him away with such force that he almost fell into the gutter. But there was no anger in the act. "Yes, I am crazy," the old man said, when he had regained his equilibrium, "aud you ought to be." At this moment came a curious ex- i change of glances between them. It t as like a quick ackuoweldgemeut of & common thought, pang burdened f.nd unwelcome to one, a matter of hopeless indifference to the other. Mr. Vernon picked up the top-coat, which had fallen from Burns's shoulders, and replaced it. with geuile care. "I knew Jane MacCc'.longh," ha said; "she was Jane Alexander before she was married." "Yes." "And you said she had a sod?" "Yes; Kirk?Colonel Luring? Pierre Rameau. These three are one." "Vou know this?" "You know it." They stood there in the rain and searching wind, the water dripping from their hat-brims and their gray locks tossing about. Mr. Vernou combed his abundant beard with his fingers. i Buvus came closer to him. "I think I had best tell vou," he i ./ 53^:, 7 ' I ) said; "for, after all, yon ought to ' know." "I know already," Mr. Vernon ! calmly replied, "all that you can tell me and more." "No, not all. Kirk MacCollough's last?no, not exactly last, nor yet bis worst, but one of his acts you ! have no account of.^ I will tell you." i Then the old man described his j meeting with Pierre Rameau in tho Pearl-River country and tho cold- | blooded event of it. He showed no j senile garrulity in delivering him- I self. Indeed, the blunt thrust of his sentences "gave an awful realism to his etory. "I felt that it was beat to tell you," ! he added at the end, with something like a suggestion of regret or apology j for the infliction. "Oh, certainly!" said Mr. Vernon, j The coolness of this remark, not i far removed from sheer indifference, j seemed to excite .Burns inordinately, and, as if in retaliation, he begtfn at ; once to tell what Rameau had said re- j garding the fate of Margaret, and con- | sciously with great cunning or uncon- : sciously with supreme feeling he- pre- j sented the absolute dramatic spirit, of the terrible deed. Mr. Vernon stood in an attitnde of stark attention.- The story was quickly told with few gestures and in a low tone. j "But?but?" Burns hesitated a | moment as ho was concluding, gazing \ fixedly the while?"though you saved \ my life, though I would all but die j for your and yours, I cannot spare him?I cannot spare him even -for you!" Mr. Yernon wrung water from h;3 i beard and stood silent. The rain j was soaring his clothes, but he ,did j not feel it. .. '; A little later the two., old men > parted, Burns refusing-to accompaay i the other any farther jor to accept any : aid from him. Unconsciously, how- i ever, he wore away Mr, Vernon's com- | fortable top-coat. ' At Chateau d'Or, meantime, Paul- ; ine and her mother were discussing a subject which mothers and daughters : have busied themselves with sip ue the ' first day that love' and marriage .were lifted to a true sanctity in human J households. Fairfax had just gone | away; and Pauline, with true French impetuosity, an inheritance from Madame Vernon, ran to that warm-' hearted woman and flung herself into-1 her arms. The act interpreted'itself, for the mother knew everv movement of her child and its meaning. She had expected this and was glad of it, and yet she felt a thrill that was more than half a pang as' she clasped the lithe, quivering form and began pas- j sioaately to kisB the bloqming lips ; And cheeks. She felt hot tears dropping from ihogitl's eyes. ""Bat he is going to the army,"' Paulin6 sobbed. "Going right away to fight!" < "And your father, too, is going." j said Mrs. Vernon, stroking her bright ! hair, soothingly. "Wo must be as brave as they." . In the midst of her distress, whicli waft 00 largely joy, Panline felt a distinct satisfaction in th'e parallel implied "by her mother's remark. It wa3 as if she had BafSl "My dearest one, too, is going to join the army. If I* can let mine go, you can let yours go. We are quite on &n equality in the the matter." The comfort in this ! leveling and blending suggestion fray : Lave been remote and obscure to a degree; but it was nevertheless un- j mistakable. "But they will bo killod! Thef j will be brought* back dead!" Pauline j continued, putting a hand on each j side or tier motner s lace auu gaziug through her tears. > , 'We'll hope not. We'll pra^ for j their safety, my dear. God takes care j of us all. He keeps our beloved ones for us." . "Our beloved one6!" The phrase was like a sweet chime in Paulino's ears. 1 "But why must war come just now, mamma, dear? Just now?juBt now when we are so happy!" v' "Men must fight, you know; it is their glory. And we poor women must j wait aud pray." , A servant announced 'Mademoiselle de Sezanues, who soon appeared, still , muffled in her carriage-cloak, with a . touch of the rain on her jolothos. Her | beauty was much heightened by her j air of excitement. She had come to j Pauline for comfort in her distress, j Lieutenant Ballanche had been sent I down the river in command of a scout- j ing party detached by order of Gen- | eral Jackson. ,(to be continued.) Mr. Dooley Defines a Poet. The Archey Road Literary Club wa? holdiug a meetingafc Molly Donahue's, and Mr. Donahue and Mr. Dooley engaged in an analytical discussion of poets and poetry: "Why shud men, grown men,-write pothry?" Mr. Donahue demanded, with a great show of spirit. "Well,".said Mr. Dooley, "'tisthis way with thini. A pote's a man with something to say thabhe hasn't thought out. Now, ye'er in a way, Malachi, > a pote. When ye'er at homo bustin' | to expriss yerself, an' not knowin' ex- ( actly what it is ye want to say, or how j ye ought to say it if ye knew, ye have j th' raakin's iv a pote inyo. Ye neeun't j look savage. Ye'll niver be wan while j .ye feel sthrong about your throubles. A pote doesn't feel really bad. He on'y thinks he does. He's able to find wurruds to pour out his heart in, an' more thin that he's able f'r to cut up th' 'wurruds into proper len'ths an' have thim fit into each other like j matched fiurin'. Think iv a man | sittin down witn a woiiu passion 12 1 his hear-rt an' thryin' to measure it } with a pocket-rule! Th' man that's j rale mad, that's mad clcar through, I can't speak plainly. Ho splutfern as j you do, avick. That's wan reason | I'm agin pothry. There ar-re other reasons, but that's wau iv them. But we've got to take ivcrything in life, th' good with th' bad. Iveryman that r-reads must r-read his peck iv pothry." ! ?The Anthor of "Mr. Dooloy," in tho ! Ladies' Home Journal. During the last twelve months at i least a dozen elephant trainers have \ been killed?more than have been killed in a dozet^-years previous. Tho first law in tartans is that every 1 rtripe, of whatever breadth or colors, must be tho sam9 in botb tha length and breadth of the web r J. I WBT THE TRAMP IS Tl I EAILEOADS' HK ONE of the greatest sources of annoyance and perplexity to every railroad superintendent ' the "hobo." The members of this easy-going gentry have selected the road cf steel as a natural successor for their purposes to the "king's highway" of a century and a half ago. It is stated on good authority that the various railway lines of the country spend each year more than a million dollars in attempts to keep their lines free from tramps. It is easy to understand, says the New York Herald, why the "hobo" prefers the railways to the highways. Jn the first place, they offer the most direct routes between towns, and, in spite of beliefs to the contrary, the genuine "hobo" prefers not to stray any further than id necessary from those centres of population. It Is easier to count ties than to pick one's ??Att/?Vi +Vin nhrtot'f n intloc nf >vn,y iuiuu^u tuu uuv?i vuiuv*w v>. country dirt roads. The railroad is never muddy in wet weather nor very dusty in the dry season. Moreover, there Is r.lways the alluring possibility of stealing a ridfc on the trucks, the "blind baggage" or within the friendly shelter of some box car. "VV.-ile the railway is a great boon to the members of the genus hobo, it cannot be said that the reverse Is true. In fact, so great a dislike do the railway officials show to the free and indiscriminate use (f 1'ieir property that they spend .thousands of dollars in emplo3'lng men to drive the tramps off trains'and.away from the line. A single line of railway?one of the more important companies?spends upward of;'$40,000 every year In fighting tramps,JaEfd it is probabje that most of the tbjsjpgh lines pay out not less than apfece In attempts to keep their *rao*Tciear of these unwelcome travelfirs. If these men. are drjven off 6ne train they catch onto tMfe* next that comes along. If they are sent to the penitentiary they, se^ve their terms arid return tMrtWfkl ' l%AaHn/v At* IU Hit? JL~U~?U? (UiiUUUi. vi vcutiug vi Jmprigonment serves to discourage' th'em'.v and the problem of dealing with them is a source . of continual perplexity'to .rati way official^ The use of the railways by pie inveterate hoboes menaces not alone the BEADING SIGNS OK BOX CARS. property of the companies themselves, but also the peace and security of tee.. it >?r2.U_. > sections rnrougn wuien tueyr-puss, which is practically the same ,as saying of the whole country. On this point the opinion of an expert is available, and is interesting as showing how the present lax system of policing the railway lines , tends to. .keep filled the ranks of/#the vagrant and criminal classes. Mr. Josiah Plynt, who has sp?nt many years among tramps stu-' dying theii*. ways and habits, says: "All the great railways are spending thousands of dollars on their 'detective' forces, as they call them, and they are all overrun bv mobs of ne'er do wells and criminals. There are no worse shims In the country than are to be found on the railroads. Refdrm-. ers and soiinl agit s are accustomed to speak of the congested districts of the large cities as the slums to which attention should be directed, but in the' most congested quarters of New York City there are no greater desperadoes nor worse scenes of degradation than may be met on the "iron highways" of AU. C11.4.An A /vf foil lilt; UillltJU OUUC9. A UUUiUCi Vi &anroads are recognized bj' vagrants and criminals as the stamping ground of particular gangs that are generally found on the lines with which their sanies are connected. V "Take the Lake Shore and Michigan ' Southern1 Railroad, for exainple. For NIGHT BATTLF. 1 several years a mob of cutthroats nn<l 'hold up' men, called the 'Lake Shore Push,' were operating on that property. The hangman's noose and long ': I . B BIG I r EXPENSIVE PATRON. 1 d L ?1X1 IvLQXl 1*1 ?l$^Xl^Cli*iIvl ?? sentences to the penitentiary have weakened the gang and removed its terrors, but originally It was a strong criminal combination. "The men had no leader or organization in the strict sense of the word, but they were bound together, as well as criminals and thugs can be, by the determination to keep the Lake Shore Railroad, from the outcasts' point of view, in their own hands, and there have been times when it was all a man's life was worth to be caught by thegang on a freight train. They had made up their mind that a syndicate of ruffians was as appropriate and like ly to succeed as any otjier kind of syndicate, and for several years they levled toll. In the shape of money or any* thing else of value that they could get, on all sjrange wanderers found on the property which they had picked out*? If. a mnn whnm "they located beating bis way on a freight car' refused wto pay toll they pummelled him until be acquiesced in their demands, and then, if tbey happened to be drunk, they were as likely as not to throw 'blni off the train. Only a few of ,tbe' flfriginal gang a*e alive or free to-day,, but it still behooves a mafi beating bis way on the Lake' Store to'be on the lookout for men of their stamp. "Besides holding up tramps they also robbed freight "pars, and I doubt whether any other gang in the country ever brought to such perfection this kind of thieving. The robbery generally took place at night when the train was going round ft* curve. Two of the gang would baard the train before' the curve was^eacb&Jit^rryin^ with them a rope la'daer wjiieh.'Osuld he fastened to the rtinninj^ffpard on the/top of the car to4^"?t6bbed. ..On! of the. men sawt .to jt thai the ladder did not^sllp, and thtf other' climbed down to The side door of the car, broke the '86^1, opened the door, and threw out on the ground as much plunder as he thought could be carried away, the same being -picked up later by the rest of tho gang scattered along the track. Tho two men would jump off the train as soon as it slackened Its speed sufficiently to allow them to do so. rejoin the push,' and help in disC#buting the plunder among the 'fences' in pelght boring cities." The method generally wdopted by the railway companies in ridding their lines of tramps, and the one which is being followed by the Central road at the present time is that. o? scaring the great number of hoboes away from the line by making examples of a fewof thejr number.' The Central employs, on its Hudson River division four de lecuves wuu are euipuncicu w arrests in any county of the gtote through which the line extends. These men are the general officers of the 4etect{ve force, and in the performance of their duty they are able to call upon other railway employes who hold local commissions in the various towns along the line. Since the order was issued to use more stringent efforts in getting rid of the tramps those detectives and their local assist :ints fin ve been exceedingly busy. Be- ' ginning at the southern <>iul of the <li- 1 vision they have worked their way to4' ward Albany, riding ou freigLt traintf going.through the yards in the different towns and raiding the hoboes' camps along the railroad property with the aid of the local police force in the different places. Half a hundred tramps have been arrested and sent to jail, and a number of their established camping spots along the iirfb have been broken up. The problem of dealing with this nuisance is a less serious one for the Eastern roads than it is for those of the West. In the first place, in this part of the country the tramps are distributed over a great many lines. In the second place, towns are closer together, and it is always possible to *urn the hoboes over to local magistrates to be dealt with. In the West, however, where the towns are further apart, the question of what to do witjU the hobo after he is caught is often a grave and difficult one, and some of the Western roads have adopted the policy of permitting the tramps to ride undisturbed onVheir freight trains so long as they do not interfere with the ranroau property or oieui nit* una. The tramps themselves are well aware as to which lines have adopted this - policy, and they are to be found in great numbers along, all these ronds. It Is a well-known fact among their fraternity that the railways will not pnt them off trains In passing over the Rocky Mountains or across the Southern desert. The lines in these sections have suffered sovinuch from flres started by tramps that, had been put off trains that they prefer to carry them as free freight rather than to have mileB of their property destroyed. One of the easiest "lays," in tramps' parlance, to be found in the country is that extending from Texas to Southern California, or from Den METHOD OF BOBBING A BOX CAB. ver to Salt Lake City, so far as beating one's way Is concerned. It Is estimated on good authority that there are no less than 100,000 professional hoboes in the United States. These men travel from end to end of the country over the railroad lines, and live uy preying upon the property of the companies or upon the people who live along the roads. The cost of unwillingly supporting them amounts to hundreds of thousands of dollars every year, but thus far no way has been fourd to successfully suppress them. Snored in the Wrong: Key. The night clerk of a leading hotel of | Washington, D. C., says thS^ast wintor a Southern Congressman came to him and demanded that his room be changed. When asked what displeased JJ1 iilf lit" it'imuu, au^iiij . ti v.M . German musician iu the next room and I don't get along well. Last night he tooted away on his clarionet so that I thought I never should go to sleep. After I had caught a few winks I was awakened by a pounding at my door. 'What's the matter?' I asked. 'If you please,' said the.German, "dot you vould schnore of dor same key. You vas go from B flat to G, and if spoils der moosie.' "?Argonaut. The Evaporatloh ot Tree*. * Some curious facts concerniugN^ee* have been discovered. A single ^tifc of good size is said to ,11ft 123 tyus of water during the mftiths it is iu leaf. This moisture is evaporated ' i and rises to form rain clouds. From this estimate of the labor of a single oak we can gain some i#ea of the lin- \ mouse fon***VlifHWlie*'forests e:;ert ( in equalizing the evapowfi^A^preeipitntion and preventih)j9im|H^>l inundation and drought.?Cineuli^> Enquirer. An Uncanny Quest. It is rumored that more tliau one s employe of Parisian hairdressiu" 1 lirms have been soon of late traveling 1 West and1 South in Ireland, bent or" ^ exploiting a new country I?v the "hail J harvest." Red-gold hair, the fashion ( able: French shade of Hie year, i> most uncommon on the Continent where dark and blonde locks only an to be readily obtained. But, observe.* ? the Freeman's Jouri^il, the true Miles- ^ ian possesses the linest red-gold hair t irf the world. Hence tills quest. J FISHING WITH BIRDS The Chinaman Uftes Cormorants to . Catc| . > HU Finny Prey. In this country the fisherman is man who uses hook or line or the n?$jt*gip In following his profession, and folk! ^ would stare with wonder to see hinp/ ."-w start off with a flock of birds to hell in catching fish. Yet is (lone ia A China. There the Chinaman may bevjjM seen in his sampan BfTf^nded by coe*$H| morants which have been trained to :jBk dash into the water at hi* order. eeI?&;M the fish and brine them to the boat. "18 Should a corraorantjUfcpture a fish too >|j large for it, to caqnr alone one of its ^ companions will'jBto it sas8istance/-*|a and together they *11 bring it in. I? If the ChiHamwi'wIshes to eatcli turties he will do so with the-aid of a! 'Tjjj sucking flsh or remora. This fish iW^H on top ot itrf head a long disc or suckeivAa by which it' attaches itself beneathr^ajfl moving objects such as sharks, wbalesH?| and the bottoms of ships rather make tjjft^fort accessary to indepand- 3 cut iuo?||fent. The^flgnnan fastens the remora to a lon^,?plrtied to a brass ring about its taih and when he reaches the. tur- rtie ground puts it oferboard, taklrijf^A care to keep it from the bottom of the boat When a tuftle passes near the'1? remora darts beneath hlna^andfasteng J'r to his shelh Struggle as b^ wlll. tb^:^ turtle cannot loosen the grip of tfii?/;;j| sucker, and the Chinaman has onlyj^pl haul in on the line, bring the turtle bi> <&jf to the boat and take him aboard'. . Rapid Growth of Beard. Three brothers, bearing a remark3'^| able resemblance to one another, in the habit of patronizing the same^jl barber shop.' One day one of the-'. - J, brothers entered the shop early in the' morning and was duly shaved by a German who had been at worifc in/he- ^ establishment for pqe or two1 days. J About twelve o'clock1Tanother brothy' jtta came in and underwit a similar oper- %81 ation. In the evening the thfrd brother^Mjl made his appearance, when the Ger- ' man dropped his razor in aitonht" .ov. ment. "Mine gootness, dat man has th^ || fastest growing beard I eves saw. ftv-yjl shaves him dis mornin' anoder shaves him fit dinner times, and he gome#. back now mit his beard so long never was."?Chicago Journal. 'v'5Jl Atclilson People Noted For Honerty^vfrB An Atchison (Kan.) man points witfc pride to the honesty of Inhabitant?' "ffig city as exemplified in the fact that.a, , }^ woman left a well-filled pocketbook. mM on a chair in front of a hotel there aud found it safe and unrifled on returning several hours later. A Jeal-^j ous. contemporary in a rival town com^H ments on this circumstance as follows^Bj "As a rule people pass along thfl^E streets of the place oftener than It really Isn't so bad as thestory wou^^H indicate." ; '?. * Pretty Home Made Screen. In a picturesque cacSp cottage in HRH woods the dining room is separ^H^^ from the living room by a really screen. One panel is illustrated^^HHH with to show how easily such a may be constructed. The frar^Rj^BH is an ordinary* clothes horse. of gfeen Japanese matting is H on the lower half on either the selvage edge top and bottom': haff''*. ~ inch rope, which has been painted green; and cut in the right lengths,' EASILY CONSTRUCTED SCBBgy^ J forms the trellis, and a larger size, alsffc^I? painted gre^u, the finish. This i$ <ot9^H ily nailed to the wood by lieans of long wire nails. Several green soda'-^M ivji tor fenrtips with round bottoms are huug at intervals along the edge, which finishes the top of the matting on the dining room side. They are<.^H filled with water and kept filled the trailing vines of the neighborhood;, sf which there is a great profusior&^2i These are trained In among the rope trellis, and give, as may readily seen, a most charming effect.?New*'* S lurk Tribune. ltuiwia'ii Blind. There are twice as many blind per- ja sons iu Russia as iu the whole of the* ) est of Europe. They number 190,000, ' . jj vhich is equivalent to two in every LOO of the population. In Trance and :'h England the proportion Is not quite me per 1000. -. .,3 The King of Diamond*. ' The Rajah of Matlau owns the larg- ,</ ^ si diamond in the world. It weighs ^ja !GT carats, and is shaped like an egg, -yj vith afaueer little dented hollo'w a? ' |g he smaller <?nd a.. nfc- ". >' ' ..IT ' -1 ' 't . / *4^3