Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. J %n faboptabtitf Jirattlg |ttfospptr: Jtr tjjc promote of i\i political, Soriaf, ^gritnlfnral anJtr Commercial |nftrtsfs of % Soafj). |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 33. j YOEKVILLE, S. O.. VEl^ESDAY. JULY 1887. 3Q. ? /' BY H. RIDER HAGGARD, "' AUTHOR OP "KING SOLOMON'S MINES?" "SHE," ETC., ETC. J t I , CHAPTER XXX / "WE MUST PART, JOHN-" Jess and her companion stood' in awed silence and gazed at the blackening and distorted corpses of the thundes'blastt'd Boers. Then they went past them to ,'tho trvo wtuch grew some ten paces or m011 the other 1 side of the place of destruction. Thero was some little difficulty in getting the horses past the corpses, but at last t>lcy came with a wheel and a snort of suspicion, and were tied up to the tree by Johj*. Meanwhile Jess took some of the hard boiled eggs out of the basket and vanished. Sh>b sat herself 011 a slab of dot stone out of-the glare of the sun, and ate her braaJriasfc *?f fcar^bgiled .,e?gs? reflecting meanwhile the position In which she found herself- For her heart was very sore and heavy, fund she could find it in her to wish that she was lying somewhere beneath those rushing waters. She hod calculated on death, and now she was not dead, and she and her shame and her trouble might yet live for many a year. She was like one who in her sleep had seemed to soar on angel's wings out into the airy depths, and tton awakened with a start to find that she lmd tumbled from her bed. All the heroic scale, all the more than earthly depth of passion, all the spiritualized desires that had sprung into being beneath the shadow of the approaching end, had come down to the common level of an undesirable attachment, along which she must now drag her weary feet for many a year. Nor was that all She had been false to Bessie, and more, she had broken Bessie's lover's 4 troth. She had tempted him and he had fallen, and now h'e was as bod as she. Death would have justified all this; she would never have done it bad she thought she was going to live; but now ueatn nau cneatea uer, us u?j has a way of doing with people to whom his presence is more or less desirable, and left her to cope with the spirit she had invoked when his sword was quivering over her. What would be the end of it, supposing they escaped? What could be the end except misery? It should go no further, far as it had gone, that she swore; no, not if it broke her heart and his, too. The conditions were altered again, and the memory of those dreadful and wonderful hours when they two swung upon the raging river and exchanged , . their undying troth, with the grave for their altar, must be a memory and nothing more. She rose and walked back to the spot where she bad left John an hour before. He was , employed when she reached him in saddling up the second of the two grays with the saddles and bridles that he had removed from the carcasses of the bors--s which the lightning had destroyed. ,,. "Hullo, Jess, you look quite smart Have you dried your clothes?" he said. "I have after a fashion." "Yes," she answered. He looked at her. "Why, dearest, you have been crying. Come, things are black enough, but it is no use crying. At any rate, we have got off with our lives so far." "John," said Jess, sharply, "there must be no more of that Things have changed. We were dead last night; now we have come to life again. Besides," she added, with a ghost of a laugh, "perhaps you will see Bessie tomorrow. 01 should think we ought to have ) got to the end of our misfortunes." John's face fell, as the recollection of the impossible and most tragic position in which they were placed, physically and morally, swept into his mind. "iSy dearest Jess," he said, "what is to be donef She stamped her foot, in the bitter anguish of her heart. "I told you," she said, "that there must be no more of that. What are you thinking about? From to-day we are dead to each other. I have done with you and you with me. It is your own fault; you should have let me die. Oh, John, John," she wailed out, "why did you not let me die! Why did we not both die? We should have been happy now, or?asleep. We must j>ort, John, we must part; and what shall I do without you? what shall I do?" Her distress was very poignant, and it affected him so much for a moment he could noc trust uimseu tu uunu uu. "Would it uot be best to make a clean breast of it to Bessie?" he said at last. "I should feel a blackguard for the rest of my life, but upon my word I have a mind to do it." "No, no!" she cried passionately, "I will not have you do ifr! You shall swear to me that you will never breathe a word to Bessie. I will not have her happiness destroyed. We have sinned, we must suffer; not Bessie, ?-ho i9 innocent and only takes her right I promised my dear mother to look after Bessie and protect her, and I will not be the one to betray her?never! never! You must marry her and I must go away. There is no other way out of it" John looked'at her, not knowing what to say or do. A sharp pang of despair went through him as he watched the passionate, pale face and the groat eyes dim with tears. How was he to part from her? He put out his arms to take her in them, but she pushed him away almost fiercely. . "Have you no honor?" she cried. "Is it not all hard enough to bear without your tempting me? I tell you it is all done with. Finish saddling that horse and let us start. The sooner we get off the sooner it will be over, unless the Boers catch us again and shoot us, which for my own part I devoutly hope they may. You must make up your mind to remember that I am nothing but your sister in law. If you will not remember it, then I shall ride away and leave you to go your way and I will go mine." John said no more. Her determination was as crushing as the cruel necessity that dictated it. What was more, his own reason and sense of honor approved of it, whatever his passion might prompt to the contrary. As he turned wearily to finish saddling the horse he almost regretted with Jess that they had not both been drowned and got it over. Of course the only saddles that they had were those belonging to the dead Boers, which was very awkward for a lady. Luckily for herself, however, Jess could, from constant .practice, ride almost as well as though she had been trained to the ring, and was even capable of balancing herself without a pommel on a man's saddle, having often and often ridden round the farm in that way. So soon as the horses were ready she astonished John by clambering into the oo'Hio of tliA older and steadier animal, plac . ing her foot in the stirrup strap and announcing that she was read}* to start "You had better ride some other way," said John. "It isn't usual, I know, but you will tumble off." "You shall see," she said, with a little laugh, putting the horse into a canter as she spoke. John followed her on tho other horse, and noted with amazement that she sat as straight and steady on her slippery seat as though she were on a hunting saddle, keeping herself from falling by an instinctive balancing of tho body which was very curious to notice. When they got well on to the plain they halted to consider their route, and as they did so Jess pointed to the long line of vultures descending to feast on their wouldl>e murderers.. If they went down the river it would lead them to Standerton, and there they would be safe if they could get into the town, which was garrisoned by English. But then, as they gathered from the conversation of their escort, Standerton was closely invested by the Boers, and to try and pass through their liues was more than they dared to do. It was true that they still hod the pass signed by the Boer general, but after what had occurred they were not unnaturally somewhat skeptical about tho value of passes, and certainly unwilling to put their efficacy to the proof. So, after duo consideration, they determined to avoid Standerton and ride in the opposite direction till they found a practicable ford of the VaaL Fortunately, they both of them had a very fair idea of the lay of the land; and, in addition to this, John jxjssessed a small compass fastened to his watch chain, which would enable him to steer a pretty correct course across the veldt?a fact that would render them independent of the roads. On the roads they would run a momentary risk, if not a certainty of detection. But ??the wide veldt the chances were that they would meet no living creature ex cept the wild game. Should they come across houses they would be able to avoid them, and . their male inhabitants would probably be far \ away from home on business connected with \ the war. Accordingly they rode ten miles or more along the bank without seeing a soul, when they reached a space of bubbling, shallow water that looked fordable. Indeed, an investigation of the banks revealed the fact that a loaded wagon had passed the river at no distant date, perhaps a week before. "That is good enough," said John; "we will try it" And without further ado they plunged in. In the center of the stream the water was strong and deep, and for a few yards took the horses off their leg6, but they struck out boldly till they got their footing again; and after that there was 110 more trouble. On the farther side of tho river John took counsel with his compass and steered a course straight for Moolfontein. _kt midday they offsaddled the horses for an hour by some water, and ate a small portion of their remaining food. Then they upsaddled and went on across the lonely, desolate veldt. No human beinc did thev see all that long day. The -wide couutry was only tenanted by great herds of thundering game that came rushing past tike squadrons of cavalry, or here and there by coteries of vultures, hissing and., fighting fpriously over some dead buck. Itnd " so at last twilight came on and found them alone in the wilderness. "Well, what is to be done now?" said John, pulling up his tired horse. "It will be dark in half an hour." Jess slid from her saddle as she answered, "(Jet off and 50 to sleep, I suppose." She was quite right; there was absolutely nothing else that they could do; so John set to work and hobbied the horses, tying them together for further security, for it would be a dreadful thing if they were to stray. By the time that this was done the twilight was gathering into night, and the two sat down to contemplate t heir surroundings with feelings akiu to dcspi.ir. So far as the oyo could reach there was nothing to bo seen but avast stretch of dreary plain, across which the night wind blew iu di-eary gusts, making the green grass ripple like the sea. There was absolutely no shelter to be had, nor anything to break the monotony, unless it were a couple of ant heaps about five paces apart John sat down on one of the ant heaps and Jess took up her position on tho other, and there they remained, like pelicans in the wilderness, watching the daylight fade out of the dftv "Don't you think that we had better sit together?" suggested John, feebly. "It would be warmer, you see." "No, I don't," answered Jess, snappishly. "I am very comfortable as I am." Unfortunately, however, this was not the exact truth, for poor Jess' teeth werp already chattering with cold. Soon, indeed, they found that the only way to keep their blood moving was, weary as they were, to continually tramp up and down. After an hour and a half or so of this, the breeze dropped and the temperature got more suitable to their lightly clad, half starved and almost exhausted bodies. Then the moon came up, and the hyenas, or wolves, or some such animals, came up also and howled round them? though they could not see them. These hyenas proved more than Jess' nerves could stand, and she at last condescended to ask John to share her ant heap; there they sat, shivering in each other's arms, throughout the livelong night. Another drawback to their romantic situation was that they were positively soaked by the falling dew. There they sat, or rather cowered, for hour after hour without sleeping, for sloop was impossible, and almost without speaking; and yet, notwithstanding the misery of their circumstances; not altogether unhappy, since they were united in their misery. At last the eastern sky began to turn gray, and John rfese and shook the dew from his hat and clothes, and limped off as well as his half frozen limbs would allow, to catch tho horses, which were standing together some yards away, looking huge and ghostlike in the mist. By sunrise he had managed to saddle them up, and they started once more. This time, however, he had to lift Jess on to the saddle. About 8 o'clock they halted and ate their little remaining food, and then proceeded slowly enough, for tho horses were almost as tired as thoy were, and it was necessary to husband them if they were to reach Mooifontein by dark. At midday they halted for an hour and a half, and then, feeling almost worn out, wont on once more, reckoning that they could not be more than sixteen or seventeen miles from Mooifontein. It was about two hours after this that a catastrophe happened. Tho course they were following ran down the side of one land wave, then across a little swampy sluit, and up on the opposite slope. They crossed the swampy ground, walked their horses up to the crest of tho opposite rise, and found themselves face to face with a party of armed and mounted Boers. CHAPTER XXXI. JESS FINDS A FRIEND. The Boers swooped down on thein with a shout, liko a hawk on a sparrow. John pulled up his horse and drew his revolver. "Don't, don't!" cried Jess; "our only chance is to be civil;" whereon, thinking better of tho matter, he replaced it, and wished the leading Boor good day. "What are you doing here!" asked the Dutchman; whereon Jess explained that they hod a pass?which John promptly produced? and were proceeding to Mooifontein. "Ah, Om Crofts?" said the Boer as he took the pass; "you are likely to meet a burying party there," and at the time Jess did not understand what he meant. He eyed the pass suspiciously all over, and then asked how it came to be stained with water. Jess, not daring to tell the truth, said that it had been dropped into a puddle. The Boer was about to return it, when suddenly his eye fell upon Jess' saddle. "How is it that the girl is riding on a men's saddle?" he asked. "Win*, I know that saddle; let mo look at the other side. Yes, there is a bullet hole through the flap. That is Swart Dirk's saddle. How did you get it?" "I bought it from him," answered Jess, without a moment's hesitation. "I could get nothing to rldn on." o w? The Boer shook his head. "There are plenty of saddles in Pretoria," ho said, "aud these are not the days when a man sells his saddle to an English girl. Ah! and that other is a Boer saddle, too. No Englishman has a saddle cloth like that This pass is not sufficient," ho went on, in a cold tone; "it should have been countersigned by the local commandant I must arrest you." Jess began to make further excuses, but he merely repeated, "I must arrest you," and gave some orders to the men with him. "We are in for it again," she said to John; "and there is nothing for it but to go." "I shan't mind so much if only they will give us some grub," said John, philosophically. "I am half starved." "And I am half dead," said Jess, with a little laugh. "I wish they would shoot us and have done with it." "Come, choer up, Jess," he answered; "perhaps the luck is going to change." She shook her head with the air of one who expects the worst, and then some gay young spirits among the Boers came up and made things pleasant by an exhibition of their polished wit, which they chiefly exercised at the expense of j>oor Jess, whose appearance was, as may well be imagined, exceedingly wretched and forlorn; so much so that it would have moved the pity of most people. | But these specimens ot tlie golden youtn 01 a simple pastoral folk found in it a rich mine of opportunities. They asked her if she would not like to ride straddle legged, and if she had bought her dress from an old Hottentot who had done with it, and if she had been rolling about tipsy in the veldt to get all the mud on it; and generally availed themselves of this unparalleled occasion to be witty at the expense of an English lady 111 sore distress. Indeed, one guy young dog, called Jacobus, was proceeding from jokes linguistic to jokes practical. Perceiving that Jess only kept her seat on the man's saddle by the exercise of u curious faculty of balance, it occurred to him that it would be a fine thing to upset it and make her fall upon her face. Accordingly, with a sudden twist of the rein he brought his horse sharply against her wearied animal, nearly throwing ic down; but she was too quick for him, and saved herself by catching at the mano. Jess said nothing; indeed, she made 110 answer to her tormentors, and fortunately John understood very little of what they were saying. Presently, however, the young Boer made another attempt, putting out his hand to give her a sly jiush: and, as it happened, John saw It, and the sight of If indignity made the blood boil in his vein Before ho could reflect on what he was doin he was alongside of the man, and, catchin him by tbo throat, had hurled him backwai over his crupper with all the force be coul command. The man fell heavily upon h shoulders, and instantly there was a grei hubbub. Johu drew his revolver, and tl other Boers raised their rifles, and Jei thought that there was an end of it, and pi her hand before her face, having first thankc John for avenging the insult with a swi flash of her beautiful eyes. And, indeed, i another second it would have been all ov< had not the elder man who had taken the pa interposed; the fact being that he had wi nessed the proceedings that led to his follov er's discomfiture, and, being a decent man t bottom, had disapproved of them. "Leave them alone and put down tho: guns," ho shouted. "It served Jacobus righ ho was trying to push the girl from the hors Almighty! it is not wonderful those Englis call us brute beasts when you boys do sue things. Put down your guns, I say, and or of you help Jacobus up. He looks as sick i a duck witn a Duuec tnrougn ic." Accordingly tho row passed over, and tl playful Jacobus?whom Jess noted with sa isfaction was exceedingly sick and tremblin in every limb?wy. with difficult? .hoisted o "to fife noree, and proceeded on his journe with not a single bit of fun left in him. A little while after this Jess pointed out long, low hill that lay upon the flat belt, dozen miles or so away, like a stone on stretch of sand. "Look," she said; "there is Mooifontein t last!" "We are not there yet," remarked Johi sadly. Another weary half hour passed, and the they suddenly, on passing over a crest, sa' Hans Coetzee's homestead lying down by tt water in the hollow. So that was whei they were being taken to. Within a hundred yards of the house tt Boers halted and consulted, except Jacobu who went on, still looking very green. Final! tho elder man came to them and addresse Jess, at the same time handing her back tt pass. "You can go on home," he said. "Tt Englishman must stay with us till we find 01 more about him." "He says that I can go. What shall I do asked Jess. "I don't like leaving you wit these men." "Do? why go, of course. I can look aft* myself; and if I can't, certainly you won't t able to help me. Perhaps you will be able I get some help at the farm. At any rate, yc must go," "Now, Englishman," said the Boer. "Good by, Jess," Baid John. "God bless you "Good by, John," she answered, lookin him steadily in the eyes for a moment, an then turning away to hide the tears whic would gather in her own. And thus they parted. She knew her way now, even across tl open veldt, for sho dared not go by the roo< There was, however, a bridle path that ra over the hill at tho back of the house, and f< this sho shaped her course. It was 5 o'cloc now, and both she and her horse were in condition of great exhaustion, which was 01 hanced in her case by want of food an trouble of mind. But she was a stron woman and had a will of iron, and she hel ?? vnswf wAmnn WAnlrl VIQVO .TfW VU KUViO AXAVOV if vuibll "WU1U iii*? V VMV>A. V v? meant to get to Mooifontein somehow, an she know that she would get there. If si could only reach the place and get 3ome be! sent to her lover, she did not greatly cai what happened to her afterward. The pat of the horse she was riding got slower an slower. From the ambling canter into whic at first she managed occasionally 1 forco it, and which is the best pace 1 travel in South Africa, it continually co lapsed into a rough, short trot, which wj agony to her, riding as she was, and froi that into a walk. Indeed, just before sunse or a little after 6 o'clock, the walk becan final. At last they reached the rising groun that stretched up the slope to the Mooif ontei hill, and here the poor beast fell down, u terly worn out. Jess slipped off and tried t drag it up, but failed. It had not a yard c go left in it. So she did what she could, pul iug off the bridle and undoing the girth, s that the saddle would fall off if the horso eve managed to rise. Then she set to work t walk over the bkl. The poor horse watche her go with melancholy eyes, knowing that was being deserted. First it neighed, thei with a desperate effort, struggled to its fe< and ran after her a hundred yards or so, onl to fall down again at last. Jess turned an saw it, and, exhausted as she was, she po itively ran to get away from the look in tho: big eyes. That night there was a cold ran in which the horse perished, as "poor" hors< arc apt to do. It was nearly dark when Jess at lengt reached the top of tho hill and looked dowi She knew the spot well, and from it she coul always see the light from the kitchen windo of tho house. To-night there was no ligh Wondering what it could mean, and feeling fresh chill of doubt creep round her hear she scrambled on down the hilL When she wi about half way down a shower of sparks su< denly shot up into the air from the sp< where tho house should be, caused by the fa of a piece of wall into the smouldering embei beneath. Again Jess paused, wondering or aghast. What could have happened? Di JAXTJE CREPT THROUGH AXD JESS FO LOWED 1IIM. herself in a small apartment about six fe square by eight high, principally formed 1 the accidental falling together of several b bowlders and roofed in by one great natur slab. Discarding a three legged stool tb Jautjo offered her Jess sank down upon a p of skins in the corner. "Stop before you begin," she said. "Ha you anything to eat here/ I am near starving." Jantje grinned knowingly, and, grubbii in a heap of rubbish in the corner, ilshed o a gourd with a pieco of flat sheet iron whi i? had once formed the hack plate of a stove, s- placed on the top. It contained "mans," or S | curdled buttermilk, which a woman had g brought him down that very morning from a d neighboring kraal, and was destined for Id Jantje's own supper. Hungry as he was is himself, for he had had no food all day, he it gave it to Jess without a moment's hesita10 tion, together with a wooden spoon, and, 53 squatting on the rock before her, watched her it eat it with guttural exclamations of satisfacd tion. Not knowing that she was robbing a ft hungry man, Jess ate the maas to the last n spoonful, and was grateful to feel tho seusa;r tion of gnawing sickness leave her. 23 "Now," she said, "tell me what you mean?" t- Thereon Jantje began at the beginning and related tho events of the day, so far as he it j was acquainted with them. When ho came I to where the old man was dragged, witn >0 kicks and blows and ignominy, from his own t? house, Jess' eyes flashed, and she positively ? ground her teeth with indignation; and as for h her feelings, when she learned that he was h condemned to death and to be shot at dawn ie on the morrow, they simply baffled descripis tion. Of the Bessie complication Jantje was quite ignorant, and could only tell her that i0 Frank Muller had an interview with her sist ter in the little plantation, and that after that g she was shut up in the store room, whero she n -still was. But this was quite enough for Jess, t y who knew Muller's character better, perhaps, than anybody else, and was not by any moans a ignorant of his designs upon Bessie. A few a moments'thought put the key of the matter a into her hand. She saw now what was the reason of the granting of the pass and of thedeterit mined and partially successful attempt at wholesale murde of which they had been the i? victims. She saw, too, why her old uncle had been condemned to death?that was to be n used as a lever with Bessie; the man was ca17 pable even of that. Yes, she saw it all as clear 18 oc stavlirrVif* anfl in Vim* Vipnrf. kVi? swni'A. llplrv *? less as she seemed to be, that she would find a way to prevent it. But what way? what ie way? Ah, if only John were here! But he s> was not, so she must act without him, if only y she could see the way to action. She thought first of all of going down boldly and facing 10 Muller and denouncing him as a murderer 10 before his men; but a moment's reflection lfc showed that this was impracticable. For his own safety he would be obliged to stop her mouth somehow, and the best she could ex^ pect would be to be incarcerated and rendered quite powerless. If only she could manage,to 5r communicato with Bessie! At any rate, it ^ was absolutely necessary that she should know ? what was going on. She might as well be a lU hundred miles away as a hundred yards. "Jantje," she said, "tell me where the Boers ? are." "Some are in the wagon house, inissie, some are on sentry, and the rest are down by the wagon they brought with them and outspanned behind the gums there. The cart there, too, that came just before you did, with the clergyman in it" 'e "And where is Frank Muller?" "I don't know, missie: but he brought a 11 round tent with him in the wagon, and it is '5 pitched between the two big gums." "Jantje, I must go down there and find out a what is going on, and you must come with l" me." CI if XT ill mioein io a 1UU will WO vau^iii, liliOOlCi i.uvic id u ? sentry at the back of the wagon house and two in front. But," he added, "perhaps we ? might get near. I will go out and look at the night." 16 Presently ho returned and said that a P "snail rain" had come on and the clouds covy end up the stars so that it was very dark. ^ "Well, let us go at once," said Jess, 'j* "ilissie, you had better not go," answered the Hottentot "You will get wet and the a Boers will catch you. Better let me go. I can creep about like a snako, and if the Boers catch me it won't matter." 13 "You must come too, but I am going. I ^ must find out" ' Then the Hottentot shrugged his shoulders l? and yielded, and, having extinguished the candle, silently as ghosts they crept out into , 11 the night Kr 10 CHAPTER XXXII. >f j. EE SHALL DIE. jo The night was still and very dark. A soft, jr cold rain, such as one often gets in the Wak:o kcrstroom and Hew Scotland districts of the ;C1 Transvaal, and which more resembles a truo it north country mist than anything else, was falling gently but persistently. This condition 2t of affairs was as favorable as possiblo to their y enterprise, and under cover of it the Hottenl?i tot and tho white girl crept far down the hill y. to within twelve or fourteen paces of the' so back of tho wagon house. Then Jantje, who 3| was leading, suddenly put back his hand and 3? checked her, and at that moment Jess caught the sound of a sentry's footsteps as he tramped ;h leisurely up and down. For a couple of i. minutes or so they stopped thus, not knowing Id what to do, when suddenly a man came round n? the rnrnpr of the htiildinc holdinir a lantern lernnneu ui> an uuzarus m uisouver, &uu oiej on very cautiously. Before she had goi another twenty yards, however, n hand wi suddenly laid upon her arm. She tumc quickly, too paralyzed with fear to cry ou and as she#did so a voice that was familiar 1 her whispered, "Missie Jess, Missie Jess, is you?' into her ear. "I am Jantje." She gave a sigh of relief, and her hear which had stood still, began to move agaii Hero was a friend at last "I heard you coming down the hill, thoug you came so softly," ho said; "but I coul not tell who it was, because you jumped fro: rock to rock, and did not walk as usual. Bi I thought it was a woman with boots; could not seo, because the light all falls dea ! against the hill, and tlTe stars aro not up. ? i I cot to the left of your path?for the wind j blowing from the right?and waited till y< ! had passed, and winded you. Then I kne I who you were for certain?either 3011 < 1 Missie Bessie; but Missie Bessie is shut up,: j it could not bo her." "Bessie shut up!" ejaculated Jess, not ev< | pausing to marvel at the dogliko instinct th ! enabled tho Hottentot to identify her. "Wh l ? ??..in uu J UU iLicau; "This way, missie; coino this way and I w tell youand ho led her to a fantastic pi of rocks iu which it was his wild habit sleep. Jess knew the place well, and hi often peeped into, but never entered, tl Hottentot's kennel. "Stop a bit, missie. I will go ai | light a candle; I have some in thei | and they can't see the light from tl ' outside," and accordingly he vanishe j In a few seconds ho returned, an taking her by the sleeve, led her along j winding passage between great bowlders, t j they came to a beeholo in the rocks, throuf j which she could see the light shining. Goii I down on his hands and knees Jantje ere I through and Jess followed him. She foui t. in his hand. On seeing the lantern Jess' first a impulse was to fly, but Jantje, by a motion, t, made her understand that she was to stop is still. The man with the lantern advanced i- toward the other man, holding the light above Dt his head, and looking dim and gigantic in the 11 mist and rain. Presently he turned his face, rs and Jess saw that it was Frank Muller himid self. He stood thus for a moment waiting e- till the sentry was near to him. it "You can go to your supper," ho said, le "Come back in half an hour. I will be rcis sponsiblo for the prisoners till then." td The man growled out an answer, something t, about the rain, and then departed round tho to end of tho building, followed by Muller. it "Now then, como on," whispered Jantje; "there is a hole in the store room wall, and t, you may be able to speak to Missio Bessie." Jess did not require a second invitation, but slipped up to the wall in five seconds. Passing tb her hand over the stonework, sho found tho ^ air hole, which she remembered well, for they m used to play bo-peep there as children, and it was about to whisper through it, when sudI denly tho door at the other end opened, and Ld Frank Muller entered, bearing the lant.-rn in >? his hand. For a moment he stood on the is threshold, opening the slide of the lantern in >u order to increase the light His hat was off, w and he had a cape of dark cloth thrown over or his shoulders, which seemed to add to his so great breadth, and tho thought flashed through the mind of Jess as she looked at ;n him through the hole and tho light struck ! at upon his face and form, and glinted down las | at golden beard, that he was tho most magnifl- j cent specimen of humanity she hud ever seen, ill In another instant he had turned the lantern le round and revealed her deur sister Bessie to to her gaze. Bessio was seated upon one of tho id half empty sacks of mealies, apparently half tie asleep, for she opened her wide hlue eyes and looked round apprehensively like one sudid denly awakened. Her golden curls were in e, disorder and falling over her fair forehead, bo and her face was very pale and troubled, and d. marked beneath tho eyes with deep bluo lines, d, Catching sight of her visitor, she rose hura riedly and retreated as far from him as the ill pile of sacks and potatoes would allow. , "What is it?" she said, in a low voice. "I 'E gavo you my answer. Why do you come to I Pfc torment mo again?" 1(1 lie placed the lantern upon an upright sock of mealies, and carefully balanced it before ^ he answered. Jess could see that he was ' taking time to consider. , "Let us recapitulate." he said, at length, in i his full, rich voice. "The position is this. I gavo you this morning the choice between consenting to marry mo to-morrow and seej ing your old uncle and benefactor shot. FurJ ther, I assured you that if you would not ft consent to marry me your uncle should bo ! shot, and that I would then make you mine, ! diseasing with the ceremony of marriage. j Is that not so'" Bessie mode no answer, and he coiftinued, \ his eyas fixed upon her face and thoughtfully j j stroking his beard, "Sileuce gives consent. I will go on. Be- I fore a man can be shot according to law he | * must be tried and condemned according to j * law. Your undo has been tried and lifts been 1 condemned." "I heard it all, cruel murderer that you | are," said Bessie, lifting her head for the first i ^ time. "Sol I thought you would, through the et crack. That is why I hod you put into this ay place; it would not have looked well to bring iig you beforo the court," and ho took tho light al and examined the crevice. "This place is at badly built," he went on, in a careless tone; Lie "look, there is another spaco there at the back," and he actually came up to it and held ve tho lantern close to it so that tho light from ly it shono through into Jess' eyes and nearly bliuded her. 8ho shut them quickly, so that ig the gleam reflected from them should not beut tray her, and then held her breath and rech mained as still as the dead. In another sec cud he"took away the light and replaced it on the mealie bag. '"So you say you saw it all. Well, it must hjfcve shown you that I was in earnest. The old man took it well, did ho not? Ho is a brave man and I respect him. I fancy that hi will not move a muscle at the last. That comes of English blood, you see. It is the best in the world, and I am proud to have it in my veins." ;.aCannot you stop torturing me and say Vfaat you have to say?" asked Bessie. J:"I had no wish to torture you, but if you like I will come tS the point. It is this. Will you now consent to marry me to-morrow ntorning at sun up, or am I to be forced to carry the sentence on your old uncle into will not. I will not. I hate you und defy you." fuller looked at her coldly, and then drew hb pocketbook from his pocket and extracted ftbm it the death warrant and a pencil. ^Look, Bessie," he said. "This is your uhcle's death warrant. At present it is value1(98 and informal, for 1 have not yet signed, fugh, as you will see, I have been careful t everybody else should. If once I place nqr signature there it cannot be revoked, and thb sentence must be carried into effect. If yea persist in your refusal I will sign it beTtfoyoaf eyes," and he placed the paper on the book and took the pencil in his right hand. "Oh, you cannot, you cannot be such a fiend," wailed the wretched woman, wringing her hands. "I assuro you you are mistaken. I both can and will. I have gone too far to turn back for the sake of one old Englishman. Listen, Bessie. Your lover Niel is dead, that you know." Here Jess behind the wall felt inclined to cry out "It is a lie!" but, remembering the absolute necessity of silence, checked herself. "And, what is more," went on lluller, "your sister Jess is dead too; she died two days ago." "Jess dead! Jess dead! It is not true. How do you know that sho is dead?" "Never mind; I will tell you when wo are married. Sho is dead, and except for your undo you ar e olono in the world. If you persist in this he will soon bo dead too, and his blood will bo upon your head, for you will have murdered him." "And if I were to say yes, how would that help him?" she cried, wildly. "Ho is condemned by your court martial?you would only deceive me and murder him after all." "On my honor, no. Before fho marriage I will give this warrant to the pastor, and he shall burn it as soon as tho servico is said. 1 But, Bessie, don't you see that those fools who tried your uncle are only like clay in my hands? X can bend them this way and that, and whatever the song I sing they will echo it. They do not wish to shoot your uncle, and will be glad, indeed, to get out of it. Your uncle shall go in safety to Natal, or stay hero if ho wills. His property shall bo secured for kiin, and compensation paid for the burning of his house. I swear it before God." She looked up at hitn, and ho could see that she was inclined to believe him. "It is tme, Bessie, it is truc?I will rebuild tho placo myself, and if I can And the man who fired it ho shall be shot. Come, listen to me, and bo reasonable. The man you loved is dead, and no amount of sighing can bring him to your or ma. I alone am left?I, who love you better than life, better thun man ever loved a woman before. Look at me, am I not a proper man for any maid to wed, though I bo half a Boer? And I have the brains, too. Bessio, the brains that shall make us both great We were made for each other ?I have known it for years, and slowly, slowly, I have worked my way to you till at last you are in my reach," and ho stretched out both his arms toward her. "My darling," he went on, in a soft, half dreamy voice, "my love and my desire, yield, now?yield! Do not force this new crime upon me. I want to grow good for you - sake, and have done with bloodshed. When you oi*o my wifo I believe that the evil will go out of me, and I shall grow good. Yield, and never shall woman havo had such a husband us I will bo to you. I will make your life soft and beautiful to you as women love life ; to be. You shall have everything that money i can buy aim power urmg. i iein iur j ?ur i uncle's sake, and for the sake of the great < love I bear you." ] As ho spoke he was slowly drawing nearer ] Bessie, whoso faco wore a half fascinated ex- < pression. As ho camo tho wretched woman gathered herself together and put out her J hand to repulse him. "No, 110," she cried, "I hate you?I cannot be false to him, living or dead. 1 shall kill myself?I know I shall." i He made no answer, but simply camo always nearer, till at lust his strong arm* ] closed round her shrinking form and drew her to him as easily as though sbo were a : babe. And then all at once she seemed to i yield. That embrace was tho outward sign of his cruel mastery, and sho struggled 110 rnoA), mentally or physically. "Will you marry me, darling?will you marry me?" ho whispered, with his lips so 1 close to tho golden curls that Jess, straining her ears outside, could only just catch tlio words: , "Oh, I suppose so; but I shall die?it will kill me." Ho strained her to his heart and kissed her ( beautiful face again and again, and next moment Jess heard tho footsteps of tho returning sentry aud saw him leave go of her. ] Jantje, too, caught her by the hand and 1 dragged her away from tho wall, and in ten seconds more she was once moro ascending ] the hillside toward tho Hottentot's kennel. 1 She had gone to find out how matters lay, and she bad, indeed, found out. To attempt ] to portray tho lury, tho indignation and the ] thirst to be avenged upon tho fiend who bad attempted to murder her and her lover, and had bought her dear sister's honor at the price of her innocent old uncle's life, would ] be impossible. All her weariness wus forgotten; she was mad with what sho hail seen and i heard, with the knowledgo of what hail been 1 done and what was about to bo done. She even forget her passion in it, anil swore that ] Muller should never marry Bessie while sho i lived to prevent it. Had she been a bad ; woman she might have seen herein an opportunity, for Bessio once married to Muller. \ John would bo free to marry her, but the idea never even entered her mind. Whatever Jess' errors may have been, she was a ] self sacrificing, honorable woman, and would j have died rather than take such an advantage. Presently they reached the shelter again and crept in. "Light a candle," said Jess. Jantje fumbled about and finally struck a match. The bit of candle they had been using, however, was nearly burned out, so from the rubbish in the corner he produced a box full of "pnds," some of them three or four inches long. Jess, in that queer sort of way in which trifles do strike us when the mind is undergoing a severe strain, instantly remembered that for years she had been unable to discover what became of the odd pieces of the candles used in the house. Now the mystery was explained. "Now go outside and leave me. I want to think." The Hottentot obeyed, and, seated tbero upon the heap of skins, her forehead resting on her hand and her fingers run through her , silky hair, now wet with the rain, sho began to review the position. It was ovident to her that Frank Muller would bo as good as his word. She knew him too well to doubt it for ( a moment. If Bessio did not marry him ho I < wouiu muruer mo 0111 mun, as ne uau irieu 10 murder her and John, only this timo judi- 1 cially, and then abduct her afterward. ' Bessio was the only price that he was pre- 1 pared to take in exchange for her uncle's life. But it was impossible to allow Bessio to be so sacrificed; the thought was horrible to her. How, then, was it to be prevented? She thought again of going down and confronting Frank Muller, and openly accusing him of her attempted murder, only, however, to dismiss the idea. Who would beliove her ? and if they did believe, what good would it do? She would only be imprisoned and kept out of harm's way, or possibly murdered without further ado. Then she thought of attempting to communicate with her uncle and Bessie, to tell thein that John was, so far as sho knew, alive, only to recognizo the impossibility of doing so now that the sentry was back. Besides, what object could be served? The knowledge that John was alive might, it is true, nerve up Bessie to resist Mulbr, but then the sole result would be that the old man would be shot. Dismissing this from her mind, she began to consider whether they could obtain^assistance. Alas! it was impossible. The only jKjoplo from whom she could hope for help would be the natives, and low that tho Boers had triumphed over the English (for this much she had gathered from ler captors and from Jantje), it was very loubtful if they would dare to help her. Beiides, at the best, it would take twenty-four lours to collect a force, and that would bo too ate. The thing was hopeless. Nowhere ;ould she see a ray of light. "What," she said aloud to herself, "what is ;bere in tho world that will stop a man like Prank Muller?" And then all of an instant the answer rose ip in her brain as though through an inspira;ion: "Death!" Death, and death alone, would stop him. For a minute she kept the idea in her mind ill she was familiarized with it, and then it was driven out by another that followed iwiftly 011 its track. Frank Muller must die, md dio beforo the morning light. By no jtherpossible means could the Gordian knot 30 cut and both Bessie and her old uncle saved, [f he were dead he could not marry Bessie, ind if ho died with the warrant unsigned .heir uncle could not be executed. That was ;he answer to the riddle, and a terrible one it ivas. But after all it was just that he should die, lor had ho not murdered and attempted murler? SuAlyif ever a man deserved u swift ad awful doom it was Frank Muller. And so this apparently helpless girl, :rouched upon the ground a torn and bespat:ered fugitive in the miserable hiding hole of i Hottentot, arraigned the powerful leuder of nen before the tribunal of her conscience ind without pity, if without wrath, passed ipon him a sentence of extinction. But who was to be the executioner? A Ireadful thought flashed into her mind and node her heart stand still, but she dismissed it. She had not come to that yet. Her eyes wandered round the kennel and lit upon Jantje's assegais and sticks in the corner, and hen she got another inspiration. Jantjo should do the deed. John had told her one lay?told her, when they were sitting tojether in "The Palatial" at Pretoria?the whole of Jantje's awful story about the masacre of his relatives by Frank Muller twenty rears before, of which, indeed, she already cnew something. It would be most fitting hat this fiend should be removed off the face >f the earth by tho survivor of those unfortulates. There would be a little poetic justice ibout that, and it is so rare in the world. But the question was, would ho do it? The ittle man was a wonderful coward, that she cnew, and had a great terror of Boers, and (specially of Frank Muller. "Jantje," she whispered, putting her head soward the bee hole. "Yes, missie," answered a hoarse voice outiide, and next second his monkey like face :ame creeping into the ring of light, followed jy his even more monkey like form. "Sit down there, Jantje. I am lonely iere, and wont to talk." He obeyed her, with a grin. "What shall we talk about, missie? Shall I tell you a itory of the time when the beasts used to [peak like I used to do years and years ago?" "Xn .Tiintin. Tell inn about that stick? ;hat long stick with a knob on the top, and &e nicks cut on it. Has it not something to lo with Prank Mullerf The Hottentot's face instantly grew evil. 'Yah, yah, missie!" he said, reaching out a ikinny claw and seizing the stick. "Look, ;hat big notch, that is my father, Baas Frank shot him; and that next notch, that is ny mother, Baas Frank shot her; and the next one, that is my uncle, an old, old man, Baas Frank shot him, too. And these small lotches, they are where ho has beaten me? pes, and other things, too. And now I will make more notches?one for tho house that is burned, and one for the old Baas Croft, my own baas, whom ho is going to shoot, and one for Missie Bessio." And without further ado ho drew from his side a very large, white handled hunting knife, and be;an to cut them then and there upon the hard wood of the stick. Jess knew this knife of old. It was Jantjo's peculiar treasure, the chief joy of his narrow little heart. lie had bought it from a Zulu for a heifer which her uncle had given him in lieu of a half year's wages. Tho Zulu had ;ot it froni a man who came down from beyond Delagoa bay. As a matter of fact it was i Samali knife, manufactured from soft native steel (which takes an edge like a razor), md with a handle cut from the tusk of a hippopotamus. For the rest, it was about a foot long, with three grooves running the length 3f the blade, and very heavy. "Stop cutting notches, Jantje, and let me look at that knife." He obeye 1, and put it into her hand. "That knife would kill a man, Jantje," she said. "Yes, yes," he answered; "no doubt it has killed many men." "It would kill Frank Muller, now, would it not?" she said, suddenly bending forward and fixing her dark eyes upon the little man's jaundiced orbs. "Yah, yah," he said, starting back, "it would kill him dead. Ah! What a thing it would be to kill him," he added, with a fierce half sniggle, half laugh. . "lie killed your father, Jantje." "Yah, yah, he killed my father," said Jantje, his eyes beginning to roll with rage. "Ho killed your mother." "Vuh. ho killed mv mother," he repeated if tor her with easel* ferocity. "And your uncle. He killed your uncle." "And my uncle, too," ho went on, shaking tils fist und twitching his long toes as his voice rose to a sort of subdued scream. "But ho will dio in blood?the old Englishwoman, his mother, said it when the devil was in her, and the devils never lie. Look! I draw Baas Frank's circle in the dust with my toe, and listen, I say the words?I say tho words," and lie muttered something rapidly; "an old, old witch doctor taught me how to do it, and what to say. Once before I did it, and there was a stone in tho way; now there is no stone; look, tho ends meet. He will die in blood! Ho will die soon. I know how to read the circle," siud he gnashed his teeth and sawed the air with his clinched fists. "Yes, you are right, Jantje," she said, still holding him with her dark eyes. "He will lie in blood, and ho shall die to-night, and you will kill him, Juntje." The Hottentot started, and' turned pale under his yellow skin. "How?" ho said; "how?" "Bend forward, Jantje, and I will tell you how;" and she whispered for some minutes into his ear. 'BEND FORWARD, .TANTJE, AND I WILL TELL YOB HOW." "Yes! yes! yes!" bo said, when sbo bad lone. "Ob, wbat a fine thing it is to bo ?lever# like the whito people! I will kill him to-night, and then I can cut out the notches, uid tho ghosts of my father and my mother md my uncle will stop howling round mo in :he night us they do now when I am asleep." [TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.] Salt a Cure for Vailing Hair. "I am very glad of the opportunidy gi von ne by tho query to thank 'Notes and Queries' tor the recommendation of dry salt as a cure tor falling hair. My hair had como out frightfully for several months, so that I dreaded louching it with a brush. Thinking that salt :ould do no harm, anyway, and remembering ;ho benefit always derived from sea air and mtbing, I tried it, and was surprised at the esult, for after three applications?putting t on at night and brushing and shaking out n the morning?not one hair came out with :hemost vigorous brushing. I have used it ihree or four times a week since the middle >f November, and notice a perceptible thickrning of my hair and no disagreeable results whatever. The treatment might not be so aeneflcial to every one, of coui-se, but I have written this fully, feeling that I could hardly >ay too much in praise of what has been so tuccessful with myself."?Boston Transcript. pisccUnttcousi ^fading. jj ARIZONA REPTILES. Arizona, says the Cleveland Plain bi Dealer, is about the worst place in the United States for people who are at all timid in regard to venomous reptiles, which are to be met with tl upon all sides here. But a native, w or people who have been in the Ter- n: ritory a short time, soon become ac- p customed to these trifles. A few n years ago the breath of the "Gila b monster" was supposed to be very 01 poisonous. This saurian, a species of w the lizard tribe, is from fifteen inch- nr esto two feet in length, is covered c< with scales, and looks not unlike a C young alligator. It is of a reddish w brown color, and when sitting on a w rnntr otnitfinor o trrOPniQh frnthv tl slime, which comes from its mouth o withasouud of a miniature steam d engine, it certainly looks fiendish T enough to frighten a tenderfoot, p However, this bravado, and at heart C perfectly harmless braggadocio man- n ner, is.quite as chaxacteristic. of many o of the human inhabitants as the e: abused, harmless "Gila monster," E and a cowboy should be treated in J much the same manner as this lizard, s; Show him that you are not afraid of ti him and his blustering will die away a in smoke, like the "Gila monster's" b venom. There are many species of p smaller lizzards abounding upon the ci sandy "mesas," and one can hardly If move a bit of rock without disturb- n ing the siesta of one or more of these d bright-eyed, inoffensive little crea- t( tures, but which would seem to prove a; themselves descendants of "Eve," t( for more curious bits of animal life t( were never known. Thus curiosity b will overcome their natural fears, t for while writing upon a large rock n two or three came out and ventured p clear up to the paper, tasted an en- li velope, and upon being frightened ai away soon returned to pursue their t( investigations, which, could a per- n son keep quiet enough, would be a carried to a rather obnoxious extent, b The horned toad is another little n animal which seems to have a fond- E ness for human company, and many p ofthem make their homeunderporch- I es and steps. They much resem- n blea large lizzard, save that around h their necks is a number of sharp, u projecting horns, about half an inch a long, and the same distance apart, n and which gives to them a most fe- e rocious look. They are of a dark r< stone color, and perfectly harmless, v There are quite a good many centi- ? pedes, which, however, it is well to v inspect from a distance. Upon see- u inf* the first one runnintr across a t< room, a person is ready to take his lj oath that the reptile is not less than I three feet in length, but which, upon b actual measurement, would probably n be about nine inches, as that is the e average length. They are a sort of o transparent brown, and have two si rows of legs the entire length of the a body. They are put together in sec- r tions, and look like the hundred- a legged worms often found in Ohio c around rotten wood or under old d boards. It is not the bite of the centipede that is so poisonous, but each end of his numerous claws that contains the venom, and when fright- d ened or an attempt is made to brush c him otf, every claw is fastened into p the flesh, and the poison discharged, v The only way when one gets on to F any portion of the flesh, is to keep xi perfectly quiet until the visitor walks t off of his own account. This, howev- s er, is a by no means easy thing to a do, as one at a first impulse is very s apt to make a decided endeavor to t remove the offender. This poison is a never known to prove fatal, but pro- p ducesan intense irritation, and which r will affect the whole system in the v same manner as the bite of a rattle- s snake. b Tarantulas are to be found quite g plenty in the mountains, and when t< camping out our party had frequent- v ly to shoot a number in order to clear n a spot on which to spread their blan- I kets. This may seem small game ii for shooting, but a man's revolver is P his handiest weapon in this country, o These tarantulas look like huge spi- c ders, with legs about two inches long t: and covered with long, black hair, ti It is not safe to get too near one of I these creatures, as they are capable of ti springing into the air several feet, b and apt to alight too near one for p personal comfort; yet, if left alone, a they will never molest one. But ti they are furious warriors among ti themselves, often fighting one anoth- ti er for several days. Their bite is a poisonous but not dangerously so. ii Scorpions are found quite plenty n around the foot-hills, and their sting o is very painful. They resemble a h monstrous flea, and are very fond of u ' A I 1 _ If * crawung into ueus. luuuy pcupic, ? newcomers especially, are in the hab- u it of making a thorough examina- r tion of their couch before retiring, n not caring to receive the warm re- s ception which would be awarded a them by these small intruders. s There is a small insect about the c size of a flea, dark-brown cclor and p without wings, which lives in the u sand, and is said to be the most pois- fi onous of anything here. It is called fi an "Indian killer," that being the o only uame for it that can be learned. 1 It, however, is almost unknown, o and after a residence of several c months I have seen but one, and s that a dead one. It is hoped the o fear of it will not prevent immigra- a tion any more than the earthquake, h which in this little town, only lasted v about twenty seconds, but stopped r several clocks and frightened the inhabitants, but otherwise did no material damage. ^ Patmos.?The great remedy for I the evil eye on Patmos is to go and cut off the end of the girdle I of this unenviable characteristic, li This must be burned in an incense s burner, and be waved before the s person or the object which has suf- e fered, and then by throwing three c carnation leaves into the lire, it can t be seen whether the charm has been i effectual or not. If the leaves crackle c it is a sign of healing, and some one r must spit thrice on the person or thing t saying, as he does so, "Uncharm- d ed!" Hut if the leaves refuse to s crackle it is best to go to the monas- d tery at once and secure a monk to fi come and read a prayer to avert the s clanger. The inhabitants of Pat- p mos half worship the monks of their \ monastery, and believe them entire- v lv devoid of the failings which other s flesh is heir to. When a monk pass- h es by or enters a house it is customa- h ry for the people to touch the ground t with their fingers, and then to kiss f: the hand which the holy man prof- a fers. A Patmiote mother's highest t ambition is to see her son introduced 1 as a "reader" into the monastic rJ church, with the prospect of being a eventually admitted as a monk when v the days of his probation are over, t All the monks are now of Patmiote h origin. This was not the case in former days, when many came from afar. But of late years many things e have been abandoned, and the hand- v some common room, with its fres- tl coed walls, is rapidly falling into t decay. Visitors have stolen most of I the old tiles which once adorhed the a common table, the Superior's throne t! is now tottering on three legs, and 1 d le fine baronial kitchen, which addns the common room, is now used 5 a depository for that hateful lime ith which they love to besmear t'erything which is architecturally sautiful. THE ORIGIN OF THE POST OFFICE. The Post-Office is an example of le mode in which things change hile names remain. It was origially the office which arranged the osts or places at which, on the great )ads, relays of horses and men could e obtained for the rapid forwarding f Government dispatches. There 'as a Chief Postmaster of England lany years before any system of mveyance of private letters by the rown was established. Such letters 'ere conveyed either by carriers, 'ho used the same horses throughout leir whole journey, or by relays f horses maintained by private inividuals, that is by private post, 'he scheme of carrying the corresondence of the public by means of rown messengers originated in conection with foreign trade. A postfflce for letters to foreign parts-was stablished "for the benefits of the Inglish merchants" in the reign of ames I., but the extension of the ystem to inland letters was left to lie succeeding reign. Charles I., by proclamation issued in 163G, may e said to have founded the present ost-office. By the proclamation he mmmanded "his postmaster of ,Engind for foreign parts to settle a Tuning post or two, to run night and ay between Edinburgh and London, ) go thither and come back in G days, nd to take with them all such letirsas shall be directed to'any post nvn in or near that road." Neighoring towns, such as Lincoln or lull, were to be linked on to this lain route, and posts on similar rinciples were directed to be estabshed on other great high roads, such 3 those to Chester and Holyhead, ) Exeter and Plymouth. So far no louopoly was claimed, but two years fterwards a second proclamation forade the carriage of letters by any lessengers except those of the King's 'ostmaster-General, and thus the resent system was inaugurated, 'he monopoly thus claimed, though o doubt devised by the king to enance the Royal power and bring loney into the Exchequer, was dopted by Cromwell and Parliament, one main advantage in their yes being that the carriage of corespondence by the Government rould afford "the best means to disover and prevent any dangerous and /loborl Hoainrnc urroiricf tLn oAtnmnn. i ili\v/u u^aiuoi biiu vvjiijujwu ,'ealth." The opportunity of an exBnsive violation of letters, especial/, if they proceed from the suspected loyalists, was no doubt an attractive ait, and it is rather amusing to otice how the tables were thusturnd on the monarchial party by means f one Sovereign's own acts ofaggresion. However, from one motive or nother Royalists and Parliamentaians agreed in the establishment of State Post, and the institution has ome down without a break from the ays of Charles I., to our own. HOW INDIANS PAINT THEIR FACES. The Indians have, without much oubt, been called red men on acount of the universal custom of ainting their faces and bodies, /rites a correspondent, and for thi? mrpose they used fine clays containng different oxides of iron. Since he establishment of their trading tores they purchase these ochres to great extent, but usually have ome of a similar character which hey have themselves found. Some dvantages are claimed in the use of aints as a protection against the igors of the climate, both the icy zinds of the north and the torrid ummersof the south, but it is also ecause of their superstitions in reard to it, viz., that it is conducive o good luck, and that its original use /as in obedience to the direct command of God. In applying it, an ndian puts a little ochre and grease n the palm of the hand, and then the ialms are rubbed together to thor ughly mix and obtain the proper onsistency; this is used for the "flat ints" and the stiplings and fancy ouches are put on afterwards. Some ndians take more kindly to a paricular color, imagining that it gives etter luck than another. When the aint is rubbed on the face the eyes re closed so that the lids may have heir full share, and it may be for his reason that some tribes pull out he eyelashes, as these, by holding n extra allowance, might cause ritation of the eyes. The skin of oany Indians' faces, especially that f the nose, becomes full of little oles, caused, no doubt, by the paints sed. The squaws ordinarily use ed for the cheeks, and a bright veroilion does add to their beauty, or ather, in a way, hides their ugliess; a perpetual asmosphere of moke, grease and dirt, with such ccesories aslongand fatiguing rides, evere work, and rough food, is not onducive to female beauty. Waraint, so called, is only an excessive se of any color. After returning rom an expedition most tribes paint ices black of those who have been ut, that being the color of rejoicing, frequently these ochres are rubbed ver the uppers of moccasins and on lothing, and at their dances horsehoe marks are painted on the body r on the clothing, and the pony is Iso decorated in this way. If one as been wounded, the place of the k'ound i3 glaringly represented by ed paint on their historical pictures. Alfred the Great's Last Vords to His Son.?Alfred the ireat was fifty-two years old when te died. His body was interred in the great ,'athedral at Winchester, and the :ingdom passed peacefully to his on. His own dying farewell to his on Edward is fche best memorial ncomiuin which can be passed upn his life, and he most truly earned he title of Alfred the Great?great n wisdom, great in power, and best if all, great in goodness; and his mrified spirit passed from earth with hese truly great words upon his 1 2 (irPUnti m *v unn il|JS JL 1IUU, IHJ Ul/Ul ouii) it thee now beside me, and I will leliver thee true instruction. I eel that my hour is coming. My trength is gone; my countenance is >ale; my days are almost ended. Ve must now part. I go to another wrld, and thou art left alone in posession of all that I have thus far ield. I pray thee, my dear child, o be a father to thy people. Be he children's father and the widow's riend. Comfort the poor, protect nd shelter the weak, and with all hy might, right that which is wrong, ^nd, my son, govern thyself by law. ?hen shall the Lord love thee, nd God Himself shall be thy regard. Call upon Him to advise hee in all thy need, and He shall lelp thee to compass all thy desires." Eclipse of tiie Sun.?The total clipse of the sun on August 19, rill be visible all over Kussia from he Baltic to eastern Siberia. Asronomers from the United States, Jngland, Itussia, Germany, Italy nd France are arranging to observe he phenomenon from at least five ifferent stations.