The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 06, 1902, Image 6
yHoldenhii
copyright uk by Bob
CHAPTER IX. |
MCATXiV TO KTTTOL*. j
'As soon os breakfast was over uncle
Sam left his boose to go to Capel
Court, sunt Gertrude retired to her
room to attend to ber correspondence,
and Miss Marsh and I were left alone, j
"Where shall we go this morning.
ErnestT* asked Miss Marob; "I am !
tired of the wk, and we have driven ,
all orer Kensington more than once." (
Miss Marsh had lately learned to .
address me as Ernest, which bad
greatly delighted me, and determined
me henceforth to call her Constance. ,
"Whichever way yon please, but If
It Is agreeabla to you we will go to <
Richmond. We have plenty of time," ,
I said, consulting my watch, "It is
barely 10 o'clock, and we do not lunch (
till 2. I was never there, but 1 have
often heard that Richmond is the most j
beautiful suburb of London."
"By all meant," replied Mitt Marth;
"I will order the carriage and get
ready at once." And she rose instant- (
ty and tripped lightly from tbe room.
American ladies prepare their tol- (
lettes with a detpatch quite unknown ,
to their English tlrtera, though cer- ,
tainly with no lest care and elaboration.
and I had only written a telegram ^
to my father, acknowledging the receipt
of hit letter and promising to re- ,
to it that evening, when Miss ,
Marth again entered the room fully J
equipped for a drive, no bntton of her ,
glove being left for me to fasten.
1 looked np at her with some sur- !
' " "V?? ?? iAnn lwtitrnwl." 1 ob
erred.
"Too mooT* she asked, fixing upon ^
Be Iter steadfast eyes. ,
"No, how could that be?** I said, and
I drew her arm through mine and led
her downstairs. 1
"Good morning, Mr. Ernest," ex- i
claimed a rolce belonging to a tall '
form which stood In the shadow of 1
the hall door; "I am fortunate in not 3
baring Just missed you." and turning <
round I beheld the Her. Dr. Evan '
Wee. '
"Pray, don't let my unexpected pres- 1
ence startle yon." continued the Vicar <
of Holdenhnrst Minor; "I bring no ill <
pews. Being summoned to London on i
hmin*u which but end In mr an- <
pointment to tin.' curacy of All Souls'.
North Brixton, jour father be a asked
me to call here to say that he would
like you to return borne at once for a
day or so. He would like you to catch
the train which leaves St. Pancras at
11.45, and travel via Cambridge."
This Information annoyed me greatly.
I could not find It in my heart to
keep away from my father when be
desired my presence, though to forego
ay visit to Richmond with Miss
llarsh was a bitter disappointment to
ate. For a moment I stood in doubt
how to act
-Of coarse joa will go," remarked i
Miss Marsh.
**I fttr I must" I replied. In a voice
which bat 1U concealed my vexation.
*bot I will return to-morrow or next
day at latest I am sorry to leave you
Id this abrupt manner, and I am sure
By father would be the last to desire
such a thing without very good reason
for It"
We adjourned to the drawing-room.
Whither Miss Marsh Invited Mr. Price
to accompany as, an invitation which
be accepted with great promptitude
and courtliness. He was a man of
fine presence and considerable tact,
gifted with the power of talking interminably
but interestingly about everything
in general and nothing in particular.
Indeed, nothing was more admired
by the feminine world of the
two Holdenhursts than the genial affability
of the Rev. Evan Price. Tbls
handsome and gallant cleric had not
been in the house ten minutes before I
learned that he was to have an interview
with the Bishop of London at <
r uinam mi o o cjock, uoui wujcu uuur
ike was at leisure (which being Interpreted
signified that be intended to
stay until the air, tliat after the said
Interview be would return to pay bis
respects to Mr. Samuel Truman?in
other words thst be would come back ;
to dinner. When I quitted the drawing-room,
leaving Mr. Price and Miss
Marsh together. I was more depressed
than I had ever been before, snd half
regretted that I bad not decided to remain.
1 felt like a runner who. having
kept ahead of bis competitors in
a long race, faints when near the goal
and sees the prise be regarded att bis
own seised by other bands. 1 am almost
ashamed to record bow the tears
started to my eyes, but 1 forced ibem
back, summoned all the courage of
my nature?not at tbat time very much
?and after a severe mental struggle
fell into a strange mood compounded
of pride and fierceness.
It was with some difficulty that 1
contrived to speak to Miss March alone
Jefore I left, but I succeeded iu doing
so. and again assured her of my regret
at the unexpected interruption of our
arrangement*, and 1 laid special emphasis
on the great pleasure it would
tire me to return to Kensington at the
earliest possible moment, at the same
time desiring her to inform my uncle
and aunt of the hasty summons 1 had
received from my father.
Miss Marsh was as gracious to mc
as the most exacting lover could *xoect
or desire, waiving mv apologies
as unnecessary. promising to convey
my message. regretting my sudden
departure, hoping for uiy speedy return.
and permitting me to retain her
band in mine longer than is customary
in the fart wells of mere friends.
?he also suggested that I might write
to her If I did not return in two days;
suggestion which I assured her 1
would most certainly adopt, at thP
same moment resolving to do so under
any circumstances. 1 would bare
given the ?orld if only 1 might Lave
tissed her. but I did not dare to do so.
Uttering a final farewell 1 regarded
Jflifr if- ' Wak .J- . . V- 1
f
c&fci'iiHalin
BH
e- If
lLTER BLOOMF1ELD
mt Boron* Bon.
ber with great earnestness for a fer
moments, then released her hand am
hurriedly left the house.
The course of my life seemed t
bave changed entirely in fourteei
lays. Never before had my mind beej
filled by so many or auch confllctini
Ideas. Before my uncle came to Hoi
ilenhurst I had been idle and careless
dow my head ached from considers
tion of affairs of which I could coo
reive no satiafactory issue. One thing
however, was clear to me. In only \
few days I had frown to love Mis
??-?v ?i*v . hiam Intani
.UUI BU W1U1 tt UCWklVU UlVi V
than I had supposed my. nature pet
mltted; and short as oar acqualntano
bad been I would hare asked tha
lady, before obeying my father's urg
ent call to become my wife bat to
that formidable barrier between usber
wealth. Her eyes' speechless met
sages, an occasional phrase or won
From her Ups, or. rarer still, her gentl*
touch, had assured me that my sal
would accord with the dictates of he
9wn heart But my pride was as grea
tx my lore, and I felt strongly that
could never ask a woman of enonnou
wealth to become the wife of the poi
tlonless son of an impoverished squire
Without commercial training, and wit]
ao natural aptitude for business, ther
ras absolutely no hope for mc to rals<
myself to her social plane by any el
fort in my power to make, and in bit
terness of spirit I alternately curse<
ber wealth and my poverty. Vision
of the perfect happiness which mlgh
be mine were either of these dUBcul
ties removed served only to lncrea*
my depression. As my ancle's car
riage sped toward 8L Pan eras. Brown
ing's remarkable line,
"Money bnys women,"
kept ringing In my ear*, tormenting
me like an evil sprite. Then then
ivas that smart young cleric, the Rev
Evan Price. With the Rev. Evai
Price I had very little to do. and on:
communications had always been o
the most friendly character possible
l)ut heaven, how I hated him now: am
cvlth what fiendish delight I was con
templating his extreme poverty whei
[he thongbt that he was probably a
:he point of greatly increasing bis in
:ome and of residing permanently li
London promptly punished me for mj
incLirltableness, and I winced. Ii
he chaoc of my Ideas I did not forge
Annie Wolsey, the unfortunate play
fellow of my childhood, whose youth
fulness had always prevented me r~
yarding her as an aunt; nor did I for
;et my grandfather, anxioos an<
llone. as far from home as could be
nor my indulgent father, now expect
ing my return, but I do not mucl
ioubt that these consideration! wen
it a minor sort, and that the centra
Sgure in my mind which occasionet
? mmKmI itlctnrhnnM van Con
U J Ui U* ? ?? ?
itance Marsh, and do other.
My uncle's horses "were good one?
>nd soon conveyed me to the Midlan<
terminus, bnt 1 had no time to spare
Saving bought my ticket, I sought fo
Mi empty compartment, for I fel
iveroe to staring at strangers, afte
the manner of English travelers, fo
three hours; while to listen to conver
sation in which I was not Interests
nrould have been simply unendurable
There being no compartment wlthou
passenger* I selected the one whicl
contained the fewest?an old lady, at
tended by a young maid. In my at
j tract Ion I left my Gladstone bag 01
the platform, where, after the trail
was well In motion It was noticed b;
my uncle's groom, who contrived *
thrust It through the window so tba
It fell on the floor at the feet of the oli
lady, causing her to shriek appallingly
I apologized for the clumsiness o
the servant, and for my own forgetful
oess, which had caused the incident
but despite all I could say, and tb
careful ministrations of her maid, th
old lady continued to roll her eyes, t
d&iiL and to utter strange sounds, un
til at last I thought she had suffer*
some serious Injury. When she pel
celved that 1 was really alarmed th
old lady recovered herself with sui
prising suddenness, and remarke
that the hag had not touched her, bu
that It nearly fell on her feet. In wbic.
case It would have been impossible t
tell what might have happened. 8h
then requested her maid to band he
a certain flask. This command wa
more easily given than obeyed, for th
flask, it appeared, was at the bottoi
of a closely-packed portmanteni
which bad to be emptied before tb
article wanted could be got at. Tb
lady scolded her maid terribly becaus
of the delay, and when the maid tin:
idly ventured to observe that tbe flas
bad been tbe flrst thing to be placed i
th*! portmanteau in accordance wit
her own related injunctions, wen
Into a violent passion, and declare
that she never bad and never woul
allow a servant to nnswer her. Wbe
at last the flask was obtained tbe ol
lady at once applied It to her lipR. th
odor of brandy pervaded the carriap
ami her mbit-und features relaxe
into a r,m:le.
It was not lonp Ix-fore the old lad
exhibited symptoms of au intention t
open a conversation with me. but
checkmated Ler by taking from tb
Gladstone bag which had occasion*
this flutter a thick folio volume <
manuscript?the bock I bad found i
the wpper box when I wan getting ov
the Hwldeaburst deeds for uncle Sari
I had brought this book with me 1
I-oniion. intending to carefully exau
ine it and read so much of it as wr
English during my stay in my uncle
house. But if 1 could find no couvi
nicnt opportunity to do so at Holdei
hurst while uncle Sam and aunt Ge
trude were there it is certain I cool
oot id London, wnn mi*s Maren i
the same boose engrossing all my a
tentioo. and the book bad not on]
been in my possession for nearly
fortnight without being ooened. hi
had narrowly escaped being lost Settling
myself comfortably Id a comer
of the carriage 1 determined to study
the volume until I arrived in Bury Ss
Edmund's, and thus keep off any advances
the tyrannical old lady might
make toward a conversation, and divert
my thoughts from my affairs.
The manuscript was still vt*ry damp,
and great care was necessary in separating
the leaves without tearing
them. It appeared to be nothing more
than the commonplace book of my ancestor
Roger Trueman (for so he and
others of bis period wrote our family
name). The handwriting was large
and distinct, but the letters, though
uniform, were quaint and peculiar?
v they approximated more nearly to
3 modern than ancient forms. A large
number of pages were devoted to reco
ords of chemical experiments, with
q notes of the results, and here and there
q a few lines In some Eastern language
g of which I was ignorant even of the
[ name, though I guessed It was Turk*
i; lsh, from the writer having lived in
l- Turkey. I examined each page In regi
ular succession, and found that they
r, were all of similar character, until I
a had exhausted about 200 pages, or
s nearly a third of the book. The pages
e were now filled with close writing,
- unbroken by paragraphs, and the
3,1 1 . \I?? T I fa
e ueauuiif, nciviu ui a ? bbhu <<.?.
t Roger Trueman. his history; written
with his own hand. A. D., 1071." abr
sorbcd my attention, and I become ob
llrloas of the voluble tongue of the
k old lady lecturing her maid. and. how*
1 ever uninteresting It may be to other
e readers, read with absorbing interest
t what I copy in the three following
r chaptera.
t
I CHAPTER X.
8 record or a wasted lot:
booze tbttemak, his hi8t0bt; wei>
i; tex with his owe hand, a. d. 1671.
J
e November 12.?All men being at all
e times like to die. the robust no less
. than tbe sick, it falleth out that but
. few men are troubled by contemplaj
tlon of that circumstance; and Indeed
B I have ever noted, but more particut
lnrly such as bold by tbe Mobamme*
dan faith, that the Inevitable Is genere
ally accepted with stoicism or indifferw
cnce. and that death by natural pro.
gression hath no terrors at all. That
such Is my own case this present writ*
ing sball testify. He who bath exceeded
tbe span of life allotted to man
? by the rsalmisf.; be who for many
e years bath lived amonjr a stranpe peo*
pie In a strange land; be who, having
1 become a recluse, perceiveth now bis
r physical and mental powers to grow
f feebler day by day; wbo, hoping for
;* nothing, feareth nausbt, is not tempted
1 to lie. He wbo lies, lietb for his ad"
vantage, or for what be conceiveth to
1 be such. To this dictum I will admit
1 no exception?and I have had large
* acquaintance of men of divers nations
1 and qualities, so speak knowingly.
T And for what purpose should I record
1 of myself that which is untrue, seeing 1
1 that my earthly course is so nearly
outrun; that certainly this record will
go unread of any until after I am in
* my grave, and may perhaps moulder
to dust ere other eyes than mine shall
1 look upon It ? Should 1 in such clrcum*
stances wittingly chronicle the thing
* which is false, then of all lies lied by
1 lying man from the first man to the
e latest born on earth, this record would
1 be the farthest removed from truth;
1 Its gross impertinence would at once
* astound and appall, and the Master
Liar would pause among his angola
' aghast at being eclipsed by bis lieu1
tenant 1 write only to assist my mind
- in reviewing cast experiences and not
r t> convince any man of any matter.
1 my business with men being past, and
r there remaining nothing for me to
r gain or lose by them.
To be contini -c
i
Ktruce Dolor* of tk? Fr h Armj.
t A most remarkable featur* t the big
a sham battle fought on the pbun around
Fort Vitry by 140,000 French soldiers
- for the edification of the Czor of Rusa
sia was the repetition of the very
a strategy and tactics -which the British
r armies in South Africa long ago disci
covered, at a terrible cost, to be abso*
t lately fatal In the face of modern rifles
(1 and ordnance.
Against Fort Fresnes the French
f generals directed a "frontal assault"
1- ?the phrase that instantly recalls Buit,
ler's deadly and disastrous experience
e on both sides of the Tugela River, j
e This mimic assault. the cable tells as,
o was delivered in "heavy lines" across
i- an open plain that was swept by the
(1 guns of the fort. And, to cap the ell*
- max. "the position was finally carried
e at tbe point of the bayonet." And the
men wbo did the charging and bayod
netlng were clod in uniforms of bright
>t red. blue and gold coloring, by way of
b making the whole thing absolutely abo
surd.
e If the Czar has read M. Bloch's far
mous analysis of the South African
s fighting, which demonstrates that the
e day of frouial assaults, bayonet
d charges across open ground and bright
i, uniforms is entirely over, what must
e have been bis reflections on tbe pre*
e paredness of his ally for real war??
e New York World.
^ roar Captain Lnwtona.
It Is au odd fact that there arc now
| four Captain Lawtous in the United
t States regular army?all young men,
j not one of whom is related to the lute
j Cenernl Henry W. Lawt?n, who made
the name Illustrious in Cuba and the
j Philippines. One of these. Captain
Louis B. Lawton, is to be retired for j
' desperate wounds rect- ved in China, I
J where be distinguish*J biuiself not j
only for extraordinary heroism, but j
for sagacious action in a dangerous j
0 situation. After an exceptionally bril-1
j liant service he must now give up hi9
|e chosen career, because of those Lon(1
orable wounds. In any other country
)f extraordinary honors would await
Q such a man.?Cleveland Leader.
H RuaadlcH Powder .Vest.
a- The chances of smokeless powdei
? seem seriously compromised by the
a* recent invention of the Itoman General
Gilletta. Thanks to the latter's
S "iiMinciir t<Oomnt<>r'' l'( In now nossible '
to a?certain tbe exact spot whence
?* tbe tiring proceed*.?Manchester Guarr"
dlan.
Id
in A French entomologist baa fonnd
t- several species of insects that are
ly edible and is trying to break down tbe
a prejudice against tbeui as articles of.
it diet.
j| The Indian Sorely Fading Before |
* tbe Advance of CtvfUMtkxi. *
Civilization is Laving Its cffect upon
tbe Indian papoose as well as upon
tbe warrior and medicine man. In a
few years more there will be no more
11
RUNNING WATfrR,
AM ARAfAMOfr FFtMCfrSS
little full-blood babies, so fast and
furious is tbe extinction of tbe red race
beiu? accomplished. And when tbe
redskin children are no more, tbe West
will fee tbe absence of its most stoical
little Americans, tbe most picturesque
of all babies.
F"\v children are brought up undei
such peculiar environments and given
*o little of a mother's care?not because
tbe mother does not love her
papoose. but because It is not her way
to bestow affection. If tbe little one
is tnkeu from her life loses all Its dull
chnrms. but should the baby remain
id it* paternal tepee caresses are uiikoown.
care Is a neglected doty and
the child is left to its own resource?.
I toHKAWA CRANP/AoWR /flS
1 AMP CttlLD fjW]
Tet there are few children so beloved
08 these Fame Indian babes. Tbey are
tbe dearest thing tbe IndiaD woman
known. The cruelty of tbe husband
and bis utter disregard for his offspring
only make her cling the closer
to her first born. She sometimes worships
it as if it were a sacred spirit.
I'apoows are brought up on milk
and hominy. Horn times they are fed
sofki. or a mixture of fiour and water.
Tbe Indian herbs are put into everything
that tbe baby eats. It used to
t>e that tbe Indian baby had no cradle
or go-cart, but tbe influx of white iner,ntn
,im now countries of the
UlUUiD iM IV mv > <. _
Southwest has brought many of the
luxuries of modem civilization. Now
out* may Fee a blanketed squaw go
wheeling her copper-colored Infant
al>out the reservation in a go-cart of
the most expensive pattern. Again,
she may have a pony hitched to the gocart
and will ride !n it with her child.
One day a white man who had an Indian
woman for his wife returned to
his nservation home with a go-cart,
which was the first that had appeared
in that section. Imagine his surprise
a few days Inter to come home from
a hunting trip to tind a number of
squaws from adjniniug tepees coast
' * ** * ^ ''
f . *
. . v ' t .- r;-.' ~_z\- ' J1_L_
CAI>DO MOTHER AND CHILD.
<f.? down bill iu tbt baby pcrauibu
later.
Tbe sacks for tbe Indian babies
when bung upon tbe bark arc said by
missionary women to be reolly comfortable
for tbe child. I have seen
squaws carrying their children arouud
iu this ra?lil0U. IUC imitr ouw mm
asleep. But Indian babies are born to
Buffer. Crying Is unknown to then.
Tbey hardly ever smile. Toys of all '
kinds may be placed at tbeir disposal
and tbey will make do effort to play '
with them. There is none of the ,
crawling al?out. throwing their hands
crowing and other traits so common to
the child of white parentage.
I once asked an Indian woman what (
I were some of their cradle songs. She
| looked at me for a moment In blank |
i surprise.
"Have you no songs to lull your
little ones asleep?" I repeated.
A smile spread over her dark face.
She tvus evidently much aroused.
"Songs among our babies are unknown.
We do not even rock them
to induce sleep. When they are sleepy
tbey juftt go to sleep without singing
to or other attention."
And sucb I have noted to be the case.
The baby Is allowed to lie in its little
sack on the bare ground when night
fails. The mother sees that its hunger
Is satisfied, then she tnav go away to a
dance, u feast o; some other form of
amusement, leaving ber baby alone
1 ? T flwArtu A L- 1/k/i n If
JU IIS ItJ'lX. *1 u? Vj'O iu PIVVp, it it
wakes, it lies still until Bleep comes
again. Such is the cane of the red
child. What little white baby would
not strain its lungs to express its objection
to such treatment?
The mothers are proud of their babies
witbul. Once in a great while the
missionary women on the reservation
of the Southwest get up some kind of
a baby-show, giving prizes for the
prettiest and cutest. This stimulates
a good deal of interest for the time,
and every squaw on the reservation
spends her time and money in rigging
her baby so that it may win the prize. '
If it fails she blames the judges and
not the baby.
Papooses of the Kiowa, Comanche
and Wichita tribes of southern Okla- '
ho ma have each recently come into
possession of 100 acres of fine land,
because of the allotment of their country
and subsequent opening of residue
lards to white people. These little
heiresses and landlords are among the
richest children of the United States
to-day. yet their manner of dress would
| not indicate it. Tbey will go aDout in
| sacks, eat sofkl and lire in tepees.
Of late ibe papoose bas been forced
rn WlCPiITA BABY
i| A RtCP CBAPU? J
I to attend school at Ave, which means (
n trying time for the mother*. Gener- '
ally the s<;uaws pack up their few belonging*
and move close to the school, '
where they may visit their children
every day and have them with them
during the night time.
Indian children are generally born
healthy, and few of them die unless
by epidemic. Twine are a rarity among
the red race, and it was formerly an
evil omen to have them born in camp.
In other days they were killed, but
now they are vent East to school and
forgotten by their people. In schools
the little ml children lose nil their loftg
Indian names, and teachers give them
short one* of their own making.
One can distinguish tven these day*
| which among the mothers are of a
i progressive nature l?y the manner in
| which they clothe their babies. Some
j of the women are quite backward inj
dted. about taking up with the white
I people's ways, and they keep beads
' and buckskin dresses on their children.
; while the more civilized are wont to
i dress their babies in white. The pres!
cut generation of full-blood babies
1 now growing up will be the last, for
intermarriages of whites and mis
i have come to be the fashion.?The
i Delineator.
I
Cti?i?p Cahft For TComrn.
Russi.i Is supposed to Ik- :i Packwarn j
i and half-civilized country. Yet wornj
en tljere have privileges which they J
j do not enjoy in our enlightened laud.
I Those who liave property of their own j
! have a voice in municipal affairs. and
j on all railways there are carriages for
j ladies ou!y. In St. Petersburg and
j other cit.es there are cahs set aside
for woiii?-ii only, of which the fares
are. by law. l>ut half those demanded
from mere man.?Chicago Tribune.
What Kiimi? Dtrini Induration.
The orthodox church of Kussia ba&
in Us eiemeuiary scuoojr i,im>.uw
children. alicut forty pupils iu each
scbuol, and the average sum fur a
school 1?< alniut flU5 a year. Of the
teacher#, ninety-four per cent, are uneducated
and they are paid next to
nothing. The school-houses are huts
and there nre no hooks, pens or iuk
furnished. This is the education of
Russians.
@
sKing Edward
|| Foreboding
WE*jm TEQpr'
* ?%
H*>vv , "s^T-sawCaBBTOBafflB
k i '. ffln/...
fey.? j^^mfv-.^gKa^^Mfc^Bgfflg
KING EI
King Edward's Illness has recalled
be runny predictions tbat bave been
Bade tbat he would never be crowned,
rhtgp dismal nronhcHcs bave been
specially frequent during the last
rear. That tLe King himself was not
oblivious to the word* of tbe prophets
and tbat be was not free frotn foretiodings
has beeu mentioned often as
i trait in bis character. Ever since
the death of Queen Victoria, it is said,
lie hast ljeen haunted by a superstitious
fear that be would not live to be
crowned. Reports have been current
In London since his accession that be
sften brooded over the predictions of
evil that Lad been made- about birn.
and tbnt be was unable to shake bis
mind free of them.
It Ik said tbe prophecy that pave
tbe King tbe most uneasiness was
made at about tbe time of bis birtb.
and ran as follows:
"Kin; sball Edward be, but never
ibnll be crowned."
As tbe date of tbe coronation approached
bis thoughts recurred with
Increasing frequency, it is said, to this
prophecy.
Twice In King Edward's career have
public prayers been offered for biro,
and once u public thanksgiving for
bib recovery. On his return from
America in 18GO his ship, the Hero.
wus uemyea uy storms. Auxieiy wu?
so great that special services were
lield in all tbe churches of tbe kingdom.
Id tbe latter part of 1870 be
contracted typhoid fever, and for
weeks bis life was despaired of. Oo
January 14. 1871, bis recovery was
announced as certain, and a national
thanksgiving was ordered for Februiry
27 following. A special service
(vas beld in St. Paul's. The (Jueen
(vent in state to it. and a Te Deura,
rpecially composed by Arthur Sullivan,
iftorward Sir Arthur Sullivan, was
buck in the presence of 13,000 persons.
The heir 'o tbe British throne is
King Edward's second child. George
Frederic Ernest Albert. Prince of
Wale*. The eldest child of Edward
ind Queen Alexaudra was Prince Alt?ert
Victor Christian Edward, the
[>i;ke of Clarence, who was born at
Frogmore on January 8, 1804. and died
it Sandriugbain on January 14. IMC.
rhe Prlnoe of Wales was born at
Marlborough House on June 3. 1SC5.
He was married on July G. 1M>3. to
Princess Victoria Mary of Teck. He
Jas nothing like tbe string of titles
Evbicb his father, as Prince of Wales,
bore, but he is. among other things.
Duke of York and Hotth.-say. Earl of
L'bestcr. Earl of Internes* and Barou
fvillarney. Earl of Carriek, Baron of i
Renfrew. Lord of the Isles and Grand
Steward of Scotland, a Vice-Admiral,
ind holds several offices in the German
military establishment. He is also
msssbp!if :-j' 3
' # bvmh
THE PBINCE Or WILES.
(llur to the Bntuh Throne.)
i Koicbt of the Garter. St. Andrew,
he lioldeu Fleece and other order?.
Lu?t rear, accompanied l?y the I'rin
*e?s Mar.v. In- made n tour of (be
iritish dominions. and arrived in Oanida
at the time uf the death of I'resileut
McKinley. On Lis re.urn to Eng
?s0 SSriSSt <SSp S3T ?Sv
Is vB-' ' <JB' ^5' VB' T"
If J He Was Haunted ^9
IS ^ by a Fear That SsBk
& He Would Not^
QTC \ t Live to Be 9 * ^
J J Crowned t ^
* "
V;,-.
j." ' '* ."'
I^IV --" jhI
V? ^5/^nwnP8 HI
WARD VII.
land be assumed toe title of Princt
of Walen.
~Temporary White HMM."
President Itoosevclt baa rented No, .
22 Lafayette S<iuare, Waablngton, at
a residence and for executive office*
during tbe several months tbat re
pairs and alterations are being mad? .
r'
TBS TEMPORARY mCUTITl MAX8I0V,
WASBINOTOW.
nt the White House. The duelling
has broD dabbed tbe "Temporary
White tlouxe." The Cabinet meetings
nr.. ilu/? ft.nr.. fintl If (? InlirmK
I ing to note that eighty-eight yean
' Lave elapsed siuee a regular K'ssion
I of the Cabinet bag been held outside
| of tbc White House. When the British
: troops hurtied the White House in
, 1 SI4 Cabioet meetings were held In
; private residences pending the repairs
to the structure.
Haying With ratify*.
There is so little level land In N<^
way tbat the making of hay enough
| to last during the long winter is a
| very serious problem. Most of tht
; necessary grass is grown on little
| mountain terraces, sometimes 2000 ox
i 3000 feet al>ove the farmhouse. The
considerable difficulty of getting the
< hay to the barns would bave l?een al!
most insuperable but for a clever con|
trivance which has been In use now foi
many years, and which the peasant#
call the lauperstreng. Tin- grass, aftei
being cut. is rapidly dried on hnrdlet
; tid then tied luto bundles. These
are slung on pulleys on a wire, which
runs straight to the valley liolow. and
I so go flying down at a trem^ndou*
j?nr?'.?i.iiiriniiiiii r,in|uirer.
An Knlliof Time Uu*.
I'asseujrers ou an elevated railway
train this luoruiu? who happened te
lit- looking out of the car window*
sin a strange thing. A district tue?
sctiger l*?y was leaning against a noop
reading ; i?a|?er-covcrcd novel. utt?rlj
j oblivion* lo all iliat was going oc
I around iiilii- At liis heels xniif ou<
I l.ad Hi row 11 a lighted match, and hi?
trciise.s wen* Juki breaking out iuto u
I 'Liz*- as tin* train rolled on. What
lia|>|M'ii?'d it flerward could Ik* onlj
iuiti^'iiii'il l?y tin* people on the traiu
It ought to have l>?i'ti to tin* toy al
most .is excitiug as the novel.?New
' York Pout.
A Hull Klin Trrr.
At tin* historic held of Bull Kun t<v
da' , die jrnkIc leads his visitors to a
(vrtaiii eedar tree that grew fo tnucbH
(aider tliau the others iu that locultt/B
that au Investigation was made. rt-B
vealing that it had grown over the re?B
main* of uu unknown soldier. whkhB
had not been tarried awujr to ArJInc-B
tori willi I lit1 others.?Sau Francisco
Argouaut
(llfaatlc Palm LftTri,
A paliu tree which prows od the
banks of tlie Amazon Las leave* thirty
fort to tlfty feet in li-upth and ted
feci to twelve feet in breadth.