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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | |m Jndrptndcnt iiutiili) ^civ:ipiijicr: Jor the promotion of the political, Social, gigricultoral and (Commercial interests of the $outh. ] terms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL. 35. YOEKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1889. NO. 36. 1 1 .... 1 ? ; 11 CHEQUE^ A FASCINATING RON SUB By the Author of " By Cr< in Velve CHAPER VII. Cynthia had gone from me, and still I lived. I cannot say it was a very happy, or'oven cheerful life?but I lived. I neither took to gambling, drinking, nor bad company, but I becamo very fond of my own society, had a set of chambers fitted up over tho offices, and spent the best part of my time there, smoking a great deal more than was good for me, and dwelling upon tho past in a way that was not conducive to good health and spirits. Whenever I met an acquaintance about town, he told mo I was looking "precious j queer," and advised a trip to Canada or the States; and I knew my mother and Jem?although the latter had an approaching crisis of her own to distract her thoughts?fretted a good deal about me. I was too selfish, however, to shake off the unwholesome depression that hold me fast in its grip. Living in this deplorable state of self concentration, it may easily bo Imagined that 1 did not trouble myself much about tho well being of people surrounding me. Nevertheless, and in spite of my increasing indifference to outward events, the knowledge was abruptly forced upon my unwilling mind that something was going wrong with our head clerk Levens. Formerly the most steady and sober of men, he was now?when well on in the fifties ?taking to habits of intemperance. The first time I noticed it was one afternoon in the middle of October, when he had brought a letter to me to read. A fog was gradually settling over the city, and I could not read with ease, so I pushed the matches across to him and asked him to light the gas. He lighted it three times, each time turning it out again when lie tried to moderate the flame. The fourth time 1 became impatient, and watched the operation to see what was wrong. His hand w;is shaking so violently that, when ho tried to turn the tap half way back, ho lost all control over his fingers and put the light out again. I took the matches from him and lighted the gas myself; but before he lett the room I had one or two good steady looks at him. What I saw 6et me wondering where my eyes had been not to have noticed the change that had taken place in him. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin bloated and his lips tremulous. This could not have been the work of two or three days on the 6pree, but the result of some months' hard drinking at the least. That evening, after dinner, when I had got my favorite pipe going full blast, and ' Richards?advanced to the post of major domo of my bachelor establishment?was clearing awav the remains of tho meal, I asked him a question or two; and, though he answered with manifest reluctance, I contrived to pump the information out of him that everybody in tho house knew of Levens' weakness. "But it never used to bo so, Richards!" I cried in astonishment. "Dear me, no, sir," he returned promptly. "That's why every one's so sorry about itl It was only early In this year that ho broke out like this; and we've all been hoping that he would/get ever the fit before you noticed it." J "Is ho such a favorite in the house, then?" "Not exactly what you would call a favorite, sir; but he has always been very mucli looked up to and respected sinco he has been with tho firm; and I suppose no one likes to see a man throwing away a good position like ho is doing." fxti r?i-i 1- 1 \ i*i.. t YY iiua IvlLIlcli US IliUI lUJllllU 1WU1, X sat for souio tiino thinking over what ho had said. "It was only early in the year when he broke out like this." Early in the year! Then Levens had taken to drinking liabits at just the very lime when I was least likely to notice the alteration in him?whilo I was still smarting violently from the pain caused by the loss of Cynthia. True, the pain was * no less acute now than it had ever been, but it was a different sofrt of pain. It no longer came in bitter spasmodic attacks, as it had done at first; it had simmered down into a dull, steady, hopeless heartache, a constant gnawing sense of something wanting, which I was always dimly conscious of, no matter how I was occupied. I wondered what she was doing now? In his last letter Iloraco had told me nothing of her beyond the fact that she sent her best wishes. Her best wishes! What a poor, empty mockery after all that had been! Tho next morning I had Levens in and spoko to him as well as I was able, dwelling principally upon tho loss and ruin to himself which must at length result if ho continued his present conduct. "It is troublo that has done it, Mr. Quinton," he said, humbly, as lie turned to leave rue, with every sign of deeply felt sliaruo upon him. "I should never have done it but for trouble." If ho had stopped I would have asked him for his confidence; but ho was so anxious to get away out of my sight, so crushed by tho degradation of his position, that I felt it would bo cruel to keep him, and I let him go with his troublo unexplained. I little thought as I watched him shambling out at tho door how soon and in what circumstances that secret troublo was to be made known to me. A few days passed away in the usual plodding, listless way in which all days passed with me now, and I was again sitting lonely and thoughtful over my after dinner pipe, when Richards knocked at tho door and told mo "a person" was down stairs asking to see me. "Didn't ho give his name?" Disked. "No," said Richards, "ho didn't give his name, but he said you would know him when you saw him." Although I had one of my most misanthropical fits on, and would gladly havo i f? 11 ; l _ DLL.II iL-it ?a*U 1IUII1 <4.11 L'UUIpanIDIlbllip that night, I had no sufficient excuse handy, and was obliged to give a grudging assent to tho unknown's admission. When ho cauio into the brightly lighted room I looked at him attentively, but was obliged to confess myself at a loss? whereat he beamed in evident delight. "I never should have believed a beard could have mado all that difference," ho said. "To think of your not recognizing me, even when closo liko this! My nanio is Benson?tho detective, you know!' i "Of courscl^ I cried, shaking hands. "I remember you now, although, as you say, tho beard does niako an immense change. And how is tho world using you?" "Tolerably well, sir; I've nothing to complain of as things go! I've gone into tho public business?given up tho force altogether. I'd been wanting to do it for some time, and a certain little atfair that took place some nino months ago" | ?with a solemn wink?"put it in my power to make a bid for a little houso j that I'd had my eye on for some time," "I see." I said, wondering if this visit | was due to a tardy fit of gratitude. "And do you liue your new calling as well as the old one?" "Better sir ?much better on all accounts' But I haven't called on you tonight to talk about myself, but about that same little affair. I've played as square with you all through that business as you did with me, sir, every bit." "I'm sure of that, Mr. Benson." NO. 9031. IANCE OF A LONDON URB. >oked Paths," "Sheathed t," Etc. "Thank you. As 60on as I found I was really on the right track I sheered off and- took up another clew which 1 knew would lead ine right away from the true one; and so I managed to divert suspicion from tho real party." "It was very good of you, and I'm all the more grateful to you because it was not so set down in tho bond." "Well, sir, what I've come to tell you to-night is that there's immediate danger of the truth coming out now, in spite of -n ? l.i- i i. rrt,? tin uur iruuuiu iv nt'cp au mo party himself?you know whom I mean; the principal in that little job?has met with a nasty accident, tumbled through a street grating, not much in itself, but a serious matter to him owing to his shak state of health, and he's gone a bit oil his head. They brought him into my house, as luck would have it; and, when I heard what he was talking about, I bundled him into our private parlor and sent off for the doctor, instead of having him taken to the hospital. He's an old customer of mine, you see?has used my house constantly ever since I've had it. When the doctor came, he looked very queer about the case, so I left my potman in charge and came round to see what you would like to have done. If he goes to the hospital, you see, he's likely to blab, and I know you"? "Stop a minute!" I cried, feeling thoroughly bewildered. "I'm all at seal I don't know in the least what you are talking about. Who has tumbled down a grating and gone off his head? You can speak out?there is no ono hero to listen?" "Why, your head clerk, Levensl" 'And what is tho secret that you are afraid he will betray?" "The forgery of that cheque, of course!" "But what does lie know about it?" I asked, rising from my chair in terror and stepping towards tho detective, who also roso with an expression of overwhelming astonishment on his face. "What does lie know about that forged cheque?" he replied, partially recovering from iiis amazement. "Well, if there is ono man on this earth who knows more about the torgery or tuat cneque than another, I should say it is this man Levens, seeing ho did it himself." "You are mad!" I gasped. "What put such an idea into your head? Levens had nothing whatever to do with it; the forger was" As I abruptly checked myself, a new light suddenly came into his eyes, and he struck hi3 leg vigorously with his opeu palm. "Hang me if what I thought once or twice wasn't right after all!" he exclaimed energetically. "You've been shielding the wrong party!" "You're mistaken," I said obstinately. "You must bo mistaken! Levens was not concerned in it." "I wonder if you'd give mo another five hundred to prove that he was," lio returned quietly; and something in his tone of calm conviction kindled in my heart the first feeling of hope it had known for all those weary months. But I was desperately afraid of being cheated; besides, what was this detective's word against Cynthia's voluntary confession? " You're mistaken," I said obstinately. "Suppose I told you that some 0110 had confessed to the forgery?" I asked, trembling lest ho should admit that such proof of guilt would be incontestable; but he only shrugged his shoulders forbearingly. "If it was any ono but Levens 1 should say they had made an untrue confession ?perhaps to cover the real criminal." Even as the words were spoken a veil seemed to fall from beforo my eyes, aud I saw all things clearly. When I discovered tho loss of tho cheque on that fatal night at Kentish Town, and accused Horace of tho theft, Cynthia had also concluded he was guilty, and had resolved to save him by sacrificing herself! The very words sho had spoken in my office tho next morning camo back to mo in support of this theory, "lie told me everything you had said to him?your threats, your accusation, tho consequences to him if he were tried and found guilty, and how strongly appearances were against him." I knew Cynthia well enough to be aware that with her feelings harrowed up by such details as these, with her naturally strong instinct of self denial worked upon by Horace's supposed danger, she was capable of throwing herself headlong into the breach, of sacrificing her good name to save him from open infamy. But again I held in check tho glorious rush of hope that was threatening to take my heart by storm; again I feared to believe this bewilderingly joyful news, lest I should presently bo driven back to my former state of hopelessness, only to find it a thousand times worse than over for my fleeting glance at a brighter existence. ' All this passed through my mind with 1*1.4-: - 1 1 T 1 1 1 T ugiiimug speeu, unu wueu 1 looseu up i found Benson watching ruo narrowly. "Well," ho said, "what do you think of that theory?" "What theory?" "That tho person who mado that false confession to you did it to cover the real offender?" "I think you aro partly right; but, if tho forger is really Lovens, you arc also partly wrong." Mr. Benson looked puzzled. "Come," I cried?"I'll make a bargain with you. Tako mo to sec poor old Lcveus?lot mo hear some of this 'blabbing' that you aro so afraid of, and, if 1 am convinced by it that it is really as you say, I will give you a full account of tho whole chapter of mistakes." In two minutes wo wero in the street; in ten wo wero in my head clerk's presence. They had laid him on a largo couch in tl^o room behind tho bar, and tho doctor was with him when we arrived, having returned to administer a draught himself. I stood at the foot of the couch for a few moments watching the patience of tho medical man, as lie again and again persuaded his patient to put his lips to tho medicine glass, only to withdraw them again in shuddering horror, with a wild declaration that he was being poisoned "I won't be killed like a rat in a hole!" ho shouted angriiy, dinging his arms up with the evident intention of upsetting the draught. "What harm have 1 done you that you want to put me out of the way in this secret manner? Who are vou? I donH know you?1 never saw | you before! W hat are you keeping me ; here for? I must go home at once?they j will bo missing mo and making inquiries. | Inquiries?" ho repeated, as if tho very ! sound of the word had started another ! train of ideas. "Who is making inqui! ries?what about? Can't they let the thing rest oven now?after all these months of miserable torture? I've had ray punishment over and over again; I should have suffered less in prison!" Looking up, I caught Benson's glance I fixed upon mequestioninglv, and I 6hook my head. Thero was some disgraceful secret on the poor old man's mind certainly; but what proof had wo that it had anything to do with tho abstracted cheque? Tho detective's theory was too good to be true, I told myself. 1 was willing enough to consider any idea that pointed towards Cynthia's innocence, but I could not see my way to shifting the burden of tho affair bodily on to poor old Levens' shoulders without unquestionable evidence of his guilt. "You are an old acquaintance, I think ?are you not, Mr. Quinton?" inquired tho doctor, lookiner across at me. "Of Mr. Levens', yes." ""Would you mind trying if ho will tako tho draught from you? Ho may yield to tho familiar voice, even though ho does not actually recognizo you; and it is so essential that ho should get some sleep." "It is a sleeping draught then?" "It is something moro than a mere sleeping draught; it is a powerful narcotic. Half measures arc of 110 uso here. If tho present strain on his nerves is not relieved soon wo may reckon his life by hours." I took tho glass and leaned over Levens. "Will you have a glas3 of wino with me, Mr. Levens?" I asked, in a voice as nearly like my every day tone as I could command. For a moment ho looked at mo with keen suspicion, as if ho doubted his own eyesight. But tho doubt soon cleared uvay, and ho answered in a perfectly rational manner: "With pleasure, sir!" and put out his shaking hand for tho glass. It was barely emptied beforo 6ome new horror seized him, and ho hit straight out in front of him with what ho evidently thought was a crushing blow, although in reality there was scarcely enough force in tho movement to displace a fly. "You cruel devil to torment mo like this!" he whispered hoarsely, with his eyes fixed upon some imaginary object beforo him. "Y~ou incarnation of evil! You heap of wickedness!" I stood at tho foot of the couch again, watching tho wearying, unceasing roll of his head from sido to side, and listening to the words of terror that fell from his blackened lips. Only a year agoonly ten months ago, in fact?ho had been one of tho keenest, most reliablo of business men to bo found in London; and now, what was he? "What?" I asked myself in silent wonder?"what had brought him to such a pass as this at his timo of life?" "What do you honestly think of the case, doctor?" I asked presently. For answer he took Levens' wrist and timed his pulse. "Tho narcotic has got hold of him," he said, "but ho has had a very nasty shako for a man of his advanced ago and of his habits. Has ho drunk all his life?" "Ono of the most 6obcr men I've ever known until about a year ago." "Good heavens?you don't say so! Then ho must have given his mind very thoroughly indeed to it since then. What ' do I honestly think of the case? Well, I think it is just possible wo may patch him up for a few years, under certain conditions. " "And those are?" "Tho most important of course is that ho should keep from tho drink; but absolute freedom from worry and anxiety of all kinds is almost as necessary for his cure. What could have driven such a man to intemperance now?" "On that part of tho matter I can give you no definite information," I replied. "I wish I could." "He is safely off now!" remarked Benson from his nost of observation bv the fire. "We must make him comfortable with rugs and pillows for tho night, I suppose. How long is ho likely to sleep?" "Eight or ten hours, if it is to do him any good." "And will ho know what he's about when ho wakes?" "Most likely; but thero will bo no depending on him. Ho will be sensible one minute and tho victim of his fancies tho next. Hut you'll not find him so difficult to manago as ho has been tonight. I'll look in about tho time I expect him to wake up. If you want me sooner, though, don't mind sending for me." "Hold mo as tho responsible person in this case, doctor," I said, as he began to put on his gloves. "I don't at all know what Mr. Levens' present means are, so it will bo moro satisfactory for all concerned if you know who Is cashier od this occasion." The clocks wero striking twelvo as he left, and soon after I heard tho people in tho bar outside clearing out quietly under the instructions of those in charge. Then some bolts were shot, and a sudden silenco fell upon tho house. "Benson," I said, when ho camo back presently with his wife, "I will stay hero the night, if you will allow me. I shall bo quite comfortable in that largo easy chair; and, if he should wake up before tho time mentioned by the doctor, I shall havo moro control over him than a stranger would have. The first thing in tho morning you must send for a man from Guy's hospital, and we'll get him away to his own home." Thero was a little demurring to this arrangement at first, but I meant to have my own way for a particular object I had in view. I did not quite like the doctor's tono when ho had spoken of the probable length of Levens' sleep. It seemed to me that he had hinted at serious consequences in tho event of the sleep not lasting the predicted time. Something in his manner had even suggested that immediate danger might bo apprehended. If this wero so, I would not run the risk of missing what little chance thero might be of learning something about tho forged cheque in the first few moments of his awakening. Tho foolish hope, once planted in mv tuind, increased in strength every moment. I would not have confessed a9 much to any one, but it was true that, in spite of the warnings of common sense, which told me I was only prcpar* ing a bitter disappointment for myself, those wandering words of Loveus', which pointed to an ever present consciousness of deserved punishment, would associate themselves in my mind with the theft and forgery of my cheque No. 0,031. I kept on telling myself that I was mad to dream of such a thing, that Levens had never had tho least chance of getting at my private cheque book on the night it had been tampered with, but that desperate, wild, improbable hope had been infused into my mind by the ex-detective, strengthened by Levens' unconscious words, and it ilatly refused to leave me again. Benson's old fashioned little tavern was situated in an out of tho way side street, through which scarcely any trafj lie passed at the busiest time, but now, i in the small hours of tho morning, there j I was an intense silence around us, bro- J i ken only by the chimes of tho distant j church clocks as they told off the quar- j ! tors one after another. Now and again tho shouting of a street j brawler would break tho stillness, robbed ! of all its discordant coarseness by the ! distance, and seeming rather to accontuJ ate than disturb tho soothing quiet of I tho night. Slowly tho hours wore away?slowly, but not wearily, for my heart was too wildly expectant of what the morrow might have in storo for me, too full of delicious imaginings, to leave time for weariness or impatience. What if Lcvens should awako conscious, and?what was of far greater importance?repentant? What if lie should confess to abstracting tlio cheque? IIow should I then have the patience to live through the six or seven weeks that would still separate mo from my poor, proud, bravo Cynthia? As often as I thought of her?my pure minded, my noble darling?the mad hope in my heart became stronger. I asked myself if I had ever really believed that she had dono this thing? I do not think I had, for in my heart there had always been a lurking doubt of Horace, so difficult is it to uproot a strong prejudice. Closely occupied with these thoughts, 4 and 5 o'clock passed without my noticing the lapso cf time; and it was only when my patient began to show increased signs of restlessness that I roused myself and discovered that it was a quarter to 6 and that the fire was nearly out. Moving cautiously, I picked a few pieces of coal from the 6cuttlo with my fingers, to avoid making any noise, and then went to have a look at Lcvens, whose arms were beginning to twitch about nervously. Was ho going to wake? ilo had 01113' had six hours of his eight or ten yet. Was that enough to servo tlio purpose? As I leaned over him, trying to place a pillow moro comfortably under his tossing head, ho opened his eyes and looked mo in tho face. For a moment I10 seemed uncertain; but the uncertainty soon cleared away, and his glanco went wonderingly round tho room, and then back to my face, as though I10 were trying to account for tho inconsistencies of his surroundings. "Don't bother yourself to think, Levens," 1 saitj quietly. "You had a disagreeable fall last night?through an insecure grating?and they brought you hero and sent for me; but you'ro all right now, and by and by wo will get you round to your own place." Ho put a tremulous hand up to his head. "I don't remember," I10 muttered feebly. "I remember nothing. What is the time?" "Nearly 0 o'clock?there, it is striking now." "And I have been in a faint all the night through?" "No; you havo been asleep." "Asleep? Not all tho time, surely I Have 1"?a sudden fear showed itself in his glanco as tho idea occuri'ed to him? "havo I been wandering in my mind? Have I been delirious? And did they send for you to hear what I was talking about?" "No," I answered at once, trying hard to speak in a way that would carry conviction to his understanding; "tho landlord?Mr. Benson?sent for mo because ho did not know where you lived, and" "Benson!" he exclaimed, suddenly putting his hand out to feel for mine. "Aro wo at the 'Crown and ThistleY' I nodded, for sooner or later ho must know, and there was nothing to gain by making a mystery of it. Ho sank back upon the pillow, breath ing witli hurried gasps, his eyes lixe<1 with a painful expression of terror upon me. "Don't putyourself outalxmtanything ?there's a good fellow!" I said soothing ly. "You see, you were nearer here than any other public house when you fell, so they brought you in. We'll soon get you away if you don't like the place" "It's not that," ho whispered; "one place is as good as another to me now. I was frightened?just at first?at the thought of your being here, in Benson's house; but it does not really matter much. I fancy I'm about done, sir; and I fancy, too, that you know more than you seem to." lie paused and looked at mo steadily. Tho terror had left his glanco now; ho seemed anxious only to know what was passing in my mind. What was I to do? My whole being yearned passionately to know the truth that I saw trembling on his lips. Would it bo harmful to him to speak? I wondered. He at last relieved me from my painful indecision by saying quietly: "It is as I thought. I've betrayed myself, or Benson has betrayed me. I don't think I'm sorry, though. Would you like to hear how it happened, sir?" "If you don't think it will do you harm to tell me," I answered, trying my utmost to keep my desperato anxiety out of sight. "No; it won't harm me. I'm too near my end for that. I havo a conviction on me that I am about done for, and I should like to tell you all about that terrible mistake of mine. Might I have something to moisten my throat before I begin, sir?" I mixed him some weak brandy and water and gave it to him, for which he thanked mo very humbly. "You were always a considerate man," ho said, as I took tho glass from his shaking hands; "and the thought of many a past kindness makes it all the harder to say what I havo to. You have found out somehow that it was I who took the cheque, but you don't know how I got possession of it even now, do you?" Heavens, how wildly my heart beat with joy as I heard tho words that cleared tho guilt from Cynthia's name! But I still contrived to speak quietly, as I told him ho was right?that I could form no idea how he managed to secure tho cheque. "Do you remember being in a violent hurry that evening?" lie asked. "You had a heap of letters brought to sign?letters for the Australian mail?and you had an important dinner to attend. Whilo you were signing the letters I came in and told you some one had called for a cheque you had promised to some charity. Can't you recollect how you fumed at tho interruption, and how you snatched up your cheque book, filled in a cheque, tore it out and passed it to me without even blotting tho writing?" I nodded in assent, and as ho spoke I recalled every trifling incident he mentioned. "That was where the mischief came in, Mr. Quinlon. If you had turned the cheque over to blot it you would have seen what you had done. You tore two cheques out instead of one, and you pass oil them hotli to me together." Was it possible? Had all this cruel trouble come about through such a simple mishap as this? I sat looking at him, dumb with amazement. 1 must have looked almost incredulous, for he went on again with increased eagerness. "It is heaven's truth I am telling you, Mr. Quinton! You cannot disbelieve the word of a dying man?" "No, no," I cried; "I do not disbelieve you?it is the simplicity of tbething that seems so wonderful to me." "Yes; it was simple enough?fatally simple?for, if the temptation had not been put into my very hand, and then further strengthened by what followed, I might have been a hearty and an honest man today, instead of the wreck, soul and body, that I am. Do you remember how early you came into the oflicc (he next morning?" "Quite well." "And do you remember, too, that young Debenham came into the otlice before I had said more than good morning to you? Well, I had the blank cheque in my pocket to give to you; and I was going to follow you into your room to tell you what you had done and to beg you to be moro careful for the future, when you anticipated me by telling Debenham you wanted to speak to him, and going into your private room with him. The moment he came out I went in to you?still with the intention of returning the blank cheque. I found you with the cheque book in your hand, and I thought you had discovered your loss. The words that would have explained everything were on my lips, when some evil spirit must have put it into your mind to tell me what a fright you had had about the book, and that Debenham had had it at home with him sinco the I night before!" The dying man paused with some signs I of exhaustion, and I tried to persuade I him not to say any more just then: but i ho insisted upon finishing. "Can't you see what a desperate temptation this news was to me? I instantly saw how suspicion must inevitably fall on Debenham when the loss of the cheque was discovered. Then again, knowing | of your engagement to his sister, I felt sure you would not be hard on him, even if you were sure of his guilt: and I wanted the money most urgently. The horrible thought seemed to hold me entranced: I paused?the thing was done, the opportunity for speaking had passed! No matter what happened after that, I knew 1 could not return the cheque, because you would want to know why I had not done so before. Then came an hour or two of torturing indecision, and then?I took the next step?I filled in and signed the cheque, indorsed it with a fictitious name and paid it away with instructions to present it at once. That is all. It is an awful thing to have to tell you; but the telling of it is nothing compared with wnai i iiavcgonu iiiruugu biiiuo mub uuy. First there was the misery of knowing that Debenham was suffering under suspicion, the breaking off of your marriage, the abrupt departure of Debenhain and his sister, and your palpable unhappiness. Then there came a new phase, in which selfish fear blinded me to all other considerations?Benson was on my trackI "Certain inquiries had been set on foot which, if followed up, would, I knew, lead to positive discovery. It was at this point that I began to drink to drown my fears; and when, after a time, I found the evidence against me was not being followed up, I continued the drink to keep mo from thinking. I was puzzled to know why the matter had been allowed to drop, for I was certain Benson had been close on my track once?so close that 1 had serious thoughts of putting a bullet through my brain. Can you understand the curious fascination that has drawn me to this place night after night? Can you understand how? ' knowing he believed mo to be the thief who stole the cheque?I was attracted to his presence constantly, how I was always watching him for signs of his suspicion, how it was torture to be with him, and yet it was impossible to keep away from him? Ah, there ho is!** I turned and saw that Benson was standing in the doorway leading from the bar. .Ii .1 _ llili.il ".IA, there he is!" < "It is .ill out now, Benson," continued < Lovens, feebly; "I've made a clean < breast of it. and I'm not frightened of | you now." i "Let him have everything ho wants, 1 Benson," I said, as I found my hat. "Don't sparo anything on the ground of ] expense. 1 can't stay to see to it myself. I have something else to do that cannot ' wait." 1 I turned and groped my way out through the close bar and leaned against the wall outside, for I was dizzy with excess of joy. I clearly remembered the ' incident the poor drink sodden creature had alluded to. I could even recall tho wordingof the letter I was attaching tny signature to when hccamo into my office and asked for a cheque which I had prom- ' ised to some charity. I recollected what a great hurry I was in on account of my Masonic dinner, and how I filled in tho cheque, toro it out, and passed it to him so hastily that I did not oven wait to blot the ink on it. Thero was nothing in j tho least improbablo in his assertion that j I had torn two cheques out and handed \ them to him together, and thero was something very improbablo in tho idea j that I10 should have imagined such a 1 thing in his delirium. No; ho had spoken 1 tho truth! I knew it; I was absolutely i certain of it! Cynthia's self accusation 1 was false! I took off my hat and raised my eyes 1 to tho morning sunlight with a feeling of reverent gratitude in my heart none j tho less real beeauso it did not express 1 itself in any set form. Then I went ' home, looked at my newspaper, and . found that a ship sailed for Australia in two days' time. , # * * ? * ? * * I reached our office in Collins street, ' Melbourne, a few minutes beforo closing j tirno ono day towards tho end of Decern- | ber. Every ono was groaning under tho j intolerable heat, but I did not feel it; my , thoughts wero so much taken up with | my approaching happiness that I was \ utterly insonsiblo to all mero physical i impressions. When Horace looked up from his desk 1 and saw mo ho gave vont to his feelings \ in a great shout. i "Where is Cynthia?" I said. "Take < iuo to her directly." 1 Ho glanced at tho clock. 1 "Never mind tho offico routine!" I cried, impatiently. "I'll set that straight > for you to-morrow. Como at once!" IIo put on his hat and I followed him ' out into the glaring sunshine. "We aro living at St. Kilda," ho said; "you'll have to exist another half hour without seeing her, although I'm afraid ' it's of no use. Sho has always held to what she said?that sho would not [ marry you with that stain upon her character." I let him go and get my ticket; and ( when wo were in tho train I leaned forward and said quietly: j "But if tho stain upon her character 1 never existed, what then?" 1 He looked at mo incredulously for a 1 moment, and then murmured: "Impossible!" i "Horace," I whispered, "sho never did 1 it! She believed you had done it, and ' she took tho blamoon herself beeauso sho ] was afraid of tho consequences for you. I have found out tho real thief. She had no hand at all in it. There's a sister for \ you!" His eyes met mine inquiringly, and his color came and went nervously. IIo ' seemed to find it difficult to grasp the j idea; but ho mastered it presently, and his face softened under the influence of j a great sense of gratitude. I "Heaven bless her!" ho said earnestly. < "Heaven forever bless her! Sho is a : noble hearted woman! How I thank heaven to be able to say that I have < never caused her an anxious thought 1 since wo left home!" Wo gripped hands, though 1 do not i know what lor, unless it was to let off a little of our suppressed emotion, and that , hand {grip was tiie vanishing point of our j old mutual animosity and the commence- l mont of a lasting friendship. i When we got to the street where they J lived?such an essentially colonial street j ?very wale, very sandy, with a row of tiny one storied cottages with corrugated iron roofs and deep verandas?Horace stopped and pointed out the house tome. "It's possible she may not be home [ from her music lessons for a few min- ' utes yet," ho said, "becauso I'm hero a train sooner than usual; but you won't j have long to wait. She's always homo in time to greet mo. Tell her I'll ho in i to dinner at 7." > I went on alono then to the houso ho had indicated. Tho gato of tho littlo j flower filled courtyard in front was 011 j tho swing, and tho house door stood wide j open under tho shady veranda. I went 1 in and stood in tho littlo tiled hall, j and wondered what I should do next. I Three out of tho four room doors wero j ajar, but there was not a sound to bo 1 heard in tho house. A cool breezo blew through tho hall, and I took off my hat, conscious of tho relief after tho walk under tho burning sun. As I stood there 0110 of tho doors was opened wider and Cynthia stepped into the hall and saw mo. In that dim light I thought she looked j taller and more ethereal than over, although somewhat palo and worn, in spito ! -o 4.1. ...1.:~i. ^ i.AM ! U1 LIIU pUciUU WI1IUI1 ollUIiU 111 IIUI utill I eyes. She stood still, gazing at mo in breathless wonderment, with her lips slightly parted and a look of fear gradually stealing over her face. "Cynthia," I murmured softly, "have you no word of welcome for me?" With a trpmulous littlo cry sho was across the hail and her dear arms wero round my neck. "I thought it must bo your spirit," sho sobbed, with her head upon my shoulder. "I thought you wero dead and that 3'our spirit had como to warn me." "Cynthia, do you remember your impossible dream, dear?your dream of crime and sin?your cruel hallucination of evil doing? The time of tho blessed awakening has come, my childl I am tho prince in the fairy story who is to awaken you from tho long dream of sorrow and trouble. Tho sin was only a delusion after all, tho crimo only an evil dream so far as you aro concerned, my queen among women! Another?in whom wo aro neither of us interested ? has confessed to tho wickedness which in your dream you thought you had committed. Awake, princess, and seo how fair tho world is again for you. Throw off this long dream of evil, and seo yourself as others seo you, a noble hearted, generous, self sacrificing woman, in whoso past life there is no Haw or blemish?a woman who is an honor to her sex and a pride to her futuro husband." "Dear Gerald," sho said softly, with tho tears rolling down her checks, "how came you to find out? Who is tho real culprit?" * # # A fortnight later my wife and 1 sailed for England. Tho idiotic fus3 my mother and Join made when they heard the wholo mystery is beyond tho power of my pen to describe. They have now subsided into a chronic state of adoration of my wife. I often tell my mother she will spoil Cynthia; but sho smiles and answers quietly: "You cannot spoil refined gold." Poor old Levens was dead and buried before I reached home. THE END. ImsccUancous ^carting. ROSS'S VARYING FORTUNE. I'JIOM CASE TO SENATE A\J> HACK AGAIN. From tho Now York Times. Toi'kka, Kan., August III.?Kansas Republicans with long memories ire discussing, with evident relish, the fact that Edmund (t. Ross, late Governor of New Mexico, is now a 30111111011 printer in the office of a Santa Fe newspaper. Ross has not been popular here since the time tvhen, as junior United States senator from Kansas, he saved Andrew Johnson from being ousted from the presidency. In the impeachment trial only one cote was needed to make the twothirds necessary to convict Johnson. The Kansas Republicans expected Ross to cast this vote, but he failed to do so, and immediately incurred their deadly enmity. "Old Jim" Utile had previously lost prestige in Kansas through his friendship for Johnson, and he committed suicide because he realized that his politi;al career was at an end. Although bated by the majority of his constituents, Ross remained in the senate until his term expired, and then ijni;tly resumed his former occupation jf printer. Most men would have been unfitted by congressional life for this radical change, but Ross regarded it as the most natural thing in the world, md frequently told his Washington issociates that he would be found at the case when his senatorial duties were over. 11 is career certainly furnishes some very striking illustrations of the ups and downs of life. The secret of this may be found in the fact that money has 110 particular calue to him. I le was born a spendthrift, and, up to this time, has manifested the most supreme contempt for the almighty dollar. This child of fickle fortune was lorn in Ohio in 1S2G, and thirty years ater when he joined the Kansas 'Free Soldiers," was a first class printer, with strong journalistic tenlencies. With his brother William 10 soon established the Kansas Tri kmc, and for two years it was the only free State paper in the Territory,its predecessors having heen destroyed l?y the pro-slavery men. The opportunity was a grand one, and the voung Ohioan made the most of it. The tiles of the paper are treasured by the State Historical Society, and they furnish very interesting reading. In those days to enunciate Ab>1 itif>11 doctrine was to court death at the hands of the border ruffians who made this region their headquarters, In INoS Koss became editor of the state Record, of Topeka, and a year later was a member of the convention which framed the present constitution of the State. The State Record passed into other hands in IS('?2, and Ross entered the army as a private. lie came out a major in IMF), with a most creditable record, md took up the printer's "stick" tgain. The following year Senator Lane committed suicide at Fort Leavenworth, and Ross was appointed by (Governor Crawford to fill the vacancy until the next session of the State legislature. January I'M, 1S(!7, lie was elected to succeed Lane on the fourth ballot. Romeroy was at that time the senior Kansas senator. Although possessed of few statesmanlike qualities and without training in debate, the new senator was blessed with plenty of hard sense, md had learned long before that "silence is golden." So he "sawed wood" and looked wise, and soon received credit for being a wise man. The beginning of the impeachment trial found Ross indisposed to regard Johnson as guilty, although the .Republicans afterward claimed that he had nroniised to vote for conviction. After the evidenee was all in, inn representative Kansas Republicans, the noted Dan It. Anthony anions them, aused this dispateh to he sent to Senators l'onieroy and Itoss: "Kansas lias heard the evidonce and lemands the conviction of the prosiient." Senator itoss replied to this as follows: "1>. It. Anthony and others: I do not recognize your right to demand that I diall vote either for or against conviction. I have taken an oath to do impartial justice according; to the constitution md laws, and trust that I shall have the sourago and honesty to vote according; to the dictates of my judgment ami for the highest good of my country." The supreme moment of the famous trial came soon afterward, and 1 toss's lull lot was thrown for acquittal. The vote stood to I'd. Soon .ifterward, ho received this dispateh, affiled "D. It. Anthony and others": "Your vote was dictated by Tom Facing;, nothy your oath. Your inotivesaro Indian contract and green I jacks. Kansas repudiates you as she does all perjurers tnd skunks." L. "W. Hailey, of Leavenworth, telegraphed to I loss as follows: ? "Probably the rope with which Jmlas hanged himself is " lost, but the pistol with which Jiin Lane committed suicide is at your service." Kansas, then as now, rabidly Republican, went wild when the news of Johnson's acquittal was received. Ross's name was on every lip. Tuesday, May 1!), inns, the soldiers of the 11th Kansas?the regiment to which Ross once belonged?burned him in effigy in front of the State House in Topeka. The republican newspapers used up their stock of epithets in denouncing him. The Leavenworth Conservative, the leading paper of the State at that time, edited by I). \\\ "Wilder, once editor ofthe Roches- I tor Express, said the morning after the news came: "Johnson is acquitted because Kansas is corrupt. The fate of the nation depended on one vote. It was found and came from Kansas. Edmuml (i. Ross, an old settler of this .State, a free State man and an anti-slavery republican, cast that vote. It was left for the State whoso noblest citizen was John Brown, the State whoso soil is hallowed all over with the blood of men, women and children, the State which has only four words on its banner, 'Equal rights for all,' to be betrayed and outraged by this creature Boss. lie is dead?dead to honor, dead to liberty, dead to Kansas. Let him go his own way. A half civilized bushwhacker would spit in poor Ross's face if he should dare to speak to him about honor. Every man in the United States has read the news from Washington and instinctively felt that Ross from Kansas was a coward and a sneak. Wherever Ross lives or travels that record will follow him!" Every day for weeks the Conservative printed editorials of this character. .Mr. Wilder is now State superintent of insurance, and to-day I questioned him regarding his editorial denunciations of Ross. "For heaven's sake," he said, "don't revive those foul articles. I was a youngster then and ought to have been kicked for writing such stuff. Ross wasn't half as had as I pictured him, and [ don't know hut he did right after all in refusing to convict Johnson." Ross defended himself as well as he could, l ie said in the senate that he could not, with the light before him, declare the president guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors* on mere >1inv>i./iiwuw rr/.i'r.i-tuvinn+.i I unlinv Finally, ho challenged any man to appear before the senate and exhibit evidence showing that lie had been bribed to vote as he did. In Kansas the charge of bribery had frequently lieen made,but it was never sustained. The year 1871 came, and with it Ross's last day in the senate. He quietly disappeared from the capital, and a* few months later was heard from as editor and proprietor of Ross's Paper, at Coffeyvillo, Kan. In 1873 he was a printer on the Lawrence Journal, and subsequently he started the Lawrence Standard. lie moved this paper to Leavenworth in 1875. He was now a Democrat, and he preached Democracy for sometime in the Standard. Kansas finally becoming distasteful to him he went to New Mexico, and his friends soon learned that he was following his old trade on an Albuquerque paper. Soon after Cleveland became President, Kansas awoke one morning to discover that the much-maligned Edniund (I. Ross had been made Governor of New Mexico. A number of his old friends, Republicans at that, including Senators Jngalls and Plumb, George R. Peck, Ex-Governor Crawford, Charles S. Gleed and T. A. Osborn, aided materially in securing this fine office for the old-time printer. Mr. Ross entered upon his duties unostentatiously and made an excellent Governor. Kansans who visited Santa Fe during his term were hospitably received by him, and many reversed their opinion of his character. Now, after four years' service at the head of the Territorial government, he has dropped back to the obscure place which is always smsm t/t Intti on/1 \\*lii/?li lift *1 til tr>*ir< to regard with as much satisfaction as the other and higher ones lie has filled. Tint, as an old Kansas man said today, "it isn't safe to wager that Kd Ross will remain long at the case. Four years hence he may again he ({overnorof the Territory or a consul or something of the sort. A person of such varying fortunes cannot he considered to have settled down for good and all until he lies in his coflin." DRV HUMOR. William L. Marcy, Secretary of State, during the administration of President Pierce, had a dry humor in which he often indulged, though he seldom laughed. A lawyer of Richmond, Ya., Mr. It. (1. Scott, applied for the consulship at Rio do Janeiro. The place had heen promised him, hut the nomination was delayed so long that Mr. Scott, becoming impatient, visited Washington to see what caused his appointment to "hang tire." Calling on Mr. Marcy, he frankly said that he was embarrassed by the uncertainty and tired of the delay, and wished to be plainly told what he might expect. "Mr. Scott," said the secretary, in a dry, hard tone, "for every l?ough of the top of the tree of appointments ?forthe mission plenipotentiary, for example?there are about one hundred applicants; for the middle houghs, the secretaries of legation, there are about three hundred applicants; and for the lower limbs of the consulships, there are about one thousand applicants. "Those holding on to the upper 1........K.. if tlwn? <*.? 11 f<\ 1111_ .. uuV ..... .......v.. on the houghs of the secretaries; and those disappointed in obtaining them, hope to eateli on the limbs of consulships. "For the place of plenipotentiary hut one of the hundred can he appointed, and the ninety and nine falling upon the next houghs increase tlie number of applicants to three hundred and ninety-nine. For the latter but one can be appointed, and thus three hundred and ninety-eight fall upon the consulships, increasing the number of applicants to one thousand three hundred and ninety-eight. The chance for a consulship is one in one thousand three hundred and ninety-eight. You can, therefore, calculate your chances for the consulship at Rio." "Then, sir," answered the astonished and dismayed Scott, "I may as well go home to my clients, and quit the business of office-hogging !" and he rose to his feet. "But, Mr. Scott," resumed Mr. Marry, motioning to him to resume his seat, "I have advised the President that the failure to obtain the higher office should not give a lien on the lower offices; thus your chance will remain as one to a thousand only for a consulship." "Well, that chance is not worth waiting for, and I'll go home," said Scott. "When you do," answered the Secretary with a twinkle in his eyes, "go and prepare for your passage to Rio, for your appointment is already determined upon." Then the Secretary's fat sides shook with his enjoyment of Scott's joyful surprise. ??ii,?v< " <;iill the merchant to ,? ?- y his employees, "1 am sorry to say I'll have to make a reduction of your salaries." "What," asked the head clerk, "ain't business good?" "(> yes, business is pretty fair." "Well, if business is good I shouldn't think you would want to reduce our salaries. You own a yacht, and have been sailing about in her with your friends all summer. I shouldn't think a man who owns a yacht would want to reduce the pay of his employees." "There you are wrong, my friend. It is precisely because I own a yacht that 1 am obliged to reduce your pay. When you own a yacht, and have lots of friends coming on hoard to visit you in asocial way, you will see the point. ' "NOW I LAY ME." [The Wichita (Kan.) Eagle says the following poem was left at the ollice by an unknown man, who came to ask for work.] Near the camp lire's llickoring light, In my blanket bed I lie, Oazing'through the shades of night At twinkling stars on high. O'er me spirits in the air Silent vigils seem to keep, As I breathe my childhood's prayer, "Now I lay mo down to sleep." Sadly sings the wbippoorwill In the boughs of yonder tree, Laughingly the dancing rill Swells the midnight melody. I Foe man may be lurking near In the canyon (lark and deepLow I breathe in Jesus' ear; "I pray the Lord my soul to keep." 'Mid those stars one face I see? (>no the Saviour turned away? Mother, who in infancy Taught my baby lips to pray. Her sweet spirit hovers near, In this lonely mountain brake? Take mo to her, Saviour dear, "If I should die before I wake." Fainter grows the flickering light, As each ember slowly dies; Plaintively the birds o"f night Fill the air with saddening cries. Over me they seem to cry; "You may never moro awake." Low I lisp: "If I should die, I pray the Lord my soul to take." "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; If I should dio before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." VALUABLE*HEALTH HINTS. One of the best ways to keep 111 good health is not to think or worry too much about it, observes the Popular Science News. I f you feel strong and well, don't imagine that some insidious disease may he secretly attacking your constitution. Many people are like the inexperienced traveler, who anxiously inquired about the symptoms of seasickness, and how he should know when he had it. One generally knows when he is sick, and frequently many supposably alarming symptoms prove, mwin hiviwtimitiAn tn lie nithnr nor i.j.w.. ... , v^v?^?.*.v..., ^,.w.v. rv. fectly natural occurrences, or of very slight importance. Eat and drink what you desire as long as it agrees with you. Your stomach knows pretty well what it can digest. Plain, simple food is desirable, as a general thing, but the luxuries of the table, in moderation, will do no harm. Alcoholic beverages are not fit for habitual use. They are true medicines, and should only be used like any other medicines?under the advice of a physician. As a regular beverage they can do no good, but will almost certainly do harm. Take all the sleep you can get, but remember that the necessary amount I varies greatly for different persons. Some must sleep at least nine hours, while others thrive under six. Only don't rob yourself of what you really need. The "midnight oil" is terribly expensive to burn, either for purposes of labor or study. Avoid sudden changes of temperature. You cannot entirely avoid them, hut you can guard against them by always wearing flannel underclothing/ The lightest grade of flannel, sold especially for summer wear, is a great life-preserver, and not oppressively warm, even in the hottest weather. Always treat a common cold with great respect. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred it will get well anyway, but the hundredth cold, if neglected, may lead to bronchitis, pneumonia, or consumption. It is best to take no such chances. Don't read medical works, unless you are prepared to have all the different diseases therein described. It takes a strong mind to read a minute description of any disease without discovering some of the symptoms in himself. The quacks know this well, their so-called "medical" books consisting principally of descriptions of every imaginable symptom, appended* to the most painful and fatal diseases. Hem em her," that if you think you have undoubted symptoms of Bright's disease, consumption, cancer, insanity or paralysis, that you probably haven't a trace of any such ilL-n.i-u ..lu.i.f i'<*n By all moans take as much exorcise as you can, and be in the open air as much as possible. (hitdoor life is the natural condition of mankind, and the more one can have of it the better. The practice must not be carried to extremes, however. There are many days when one is much better off in a warm, comfortable, well-ventilated house than trying to takeout-door exercise in a midwinter storm, or under a July sun, and no one ever strengthened his constitution by sleeping with his bedroom window open, with the outside temperature at zero, or allowing the snow to drift in upon his pillow. Fresh air, sunlight, good and sulficient food, pure water, outdoor exercise, temperance in all things, and a cheerful disposition, are the chief remedies in Nature's pharmacopoeia, and are worth more than all the drugs and medicines of the shops. Dr. Holmes lias truly said that if nine-tenths of all the medicines in the world were poured into the ocean it would be all the better for mankind and all the worse for the fishes; and the best physician can do little more than provide good nursing, and aid Nature in throwing off disease. THE BAD OLD TIMES. For a change, asks the Golden Rule, how does the foregoing caption look ? We have long been accustomed to the other phrase, "the good old times;" let us change it. There were tiie had old times of the French Revolution, when blood flowed like water and the greatest murderer was the best fellow. There were worse old times before the French Revolution ; times of tyranny and royal caprice and unutterable debauchery in high places; times that could only be purified as by fire. There were the bad old times of the Middle Ages in Europe, when children were allowed to have their feelings wrought up so that they would enlist by the lo,ooo in a hopeless crusade against the Moslems, only to die by the 10,000. There were the bad old times in England when it was a perfectly respectable thing for a gentleman to get drunk once in a while, and when no one was read out of good society because he was a gambler, and when women labored half-naked in the coal mines, worse treated than the donkeys themselves. There were the bad old times when only the few could obtain an education, and the masses could scarcely hope to get above the condition of their fathers. There were the bad old times in our own land when there was only one professing Christian to every ' fourteen of the population, instead of one in five as at present; when our rulers were pronounced atheists and our scholars were pronounced skeptics. There were the bad old times of slavery and disunion and civil war and carpet-bagism. There were the had old times when not one solitary voice, even of one crying in the wilderness, was raised against the curse of rum-selling; when some ministers .. 41... Ciunuil llinni<nlvi'< tinned :if Ill IJIV" viuqivi U.vi... ..ri each house on their round of pastoral calls, and the members of the Hock were not slow to follow their example. Let us thank (?od that the bad old times have gone never to return, as we hope. The new times are not as rood as those that are coming, but they are better than the past, and the eastern sky is brightening. Xoth i xo'Li k k Leather.?Leather is a unique material. There is no substance in any way analogous to it. Flexibility and durability are opposite qualities that 110 other product possesses in such a marked degree. in the tanned skin the gelatine and tannin, the animal and the vegetable Kingdom, an* luniinnw. ... an indissoluble union which will withstand the continuous frietional wear which shoes, harness, belting, etc., are subjected to better than anything else. It is the one commodity for which there is absolutely no substitute, says the Shoe and Leather Reporter. Cotton, wool, linen and silk are to some extent interchangeable; wood, iron and stone are frequently used in lieu of each other; but, notwithstanding the scientific researches and discovery of the present age, nothing has been invented to supersede or obviate the necessity for leather. With the single exception of breadstuff's, none of the great staples of commerce has such a numerous constituency. Every inhabitant of the country, with out regard to age, sex, color or condition in life, is to a greater or less degree a convimirir nf if CONTAGIOUS DISEASES IN CHILDHOOD. The most common and important of such diseases are whooping cough, measles, scarlet fever and diphtheria. They are all to he avoided if possible, and in relation to them the parent should guard the children from exposure. Maintain in them that degree of vigorous health which both lessens the liability to take the disease, and more readily triumphs over it, if taken; and keep the house, from cellar to garret, and all its surroundings, as free as possible from all noxious miasms?mainly by absolute cleanliness, by free circulation of air, by unobstructed sunshine, and by a copious use of good disinfectants. Though whooping cough is seldom fatal, it is best to ill in a physician, for he can lessen t..e severity of the paroxysms, shorten the term of the disease, and prevent its running off into a protracted and exhausting cough, as it too often does. Measles are apt to be treated as a trifling affair, and, indeed, many parents purposely expose their children to the disease; but, owing to carelessness in treating it, more die of it than of diphtheria or scarlet fever. Besides, it often leaves permanent harm behind. Though the disease is generally lighter in childhood, yet the susceptibility to it is much diminished in adult life. Measles begin as a cold, with a running at the eves and nose, and the rash is in dark red spots, first seen on the face and forehead. Scarlet fever commences with a sore throat, and the rash appears as a general redness of the the skin, and shows itself first about the neck and chest. Diphtheria begins with marked weakness, and the inflammation in the back part of the mouth soon has a peculiar smell as of putrid meat. In no case should either of these cases he trusted to home treatment. While the physician looks after the cure of the patient, the friends should actively co-operate in preventing the spread of the disease, not only in the whole matter of disinfection, but in completely isolating the child until possibility of communicating the infection is over. Some forms of ophthalmia (inflammation of the eyes) are very contagious, and may be communicated from child to child at school. Teachers should be 011 the lookout in this matter. 11 is mostly prevalent anion g the poor. It would he well if, at our public schools, during a period of infectious disease, the girls were cautioned against the habit of putting on each other's hoods and hats, and of frequent hugging and kissing. Infectious diseases are often thus propagated. ^ DIED OF GRIEF. The emotional life of the horse is remarkable. There are instances on record where the death of the horse has been traced directly to grief. One instance is called to mind which occurred more than twenty years ago. A circus had been performing in the little town of Unionville, Pa., when one of the trained horses sprained one of his legs so that he could not travel. He was taken to the hotel stables and put in a box stall. The leg was bandaged and he was made as comfortable as possible. He ate his food and was apparently contented until about midnight, when the circus began moving out of the town. Then he became restless and tramped and whined. As the caravan moved past the hotel he seemed to realize that he , was being deserted, and his anxiety I and distress became pitiful. He would stand with his ears pricked in an attitude of intense listening, and then as his ears caught the sound of the retiring wagons he would rush, as best he could with his injured leg, from one side of the stall to the other, pushing at the door with his nose and making every effort to escape. The stable man, who was a stranger to him, tried to soothe him, but to no purpose. He would not be comforted. Long after all sounds of the circus had ceased his agitation continued. The sweat poured from him in streams and lie quivered in every part of his body. Finally the stableman went to the house, woke up the proprietor and told him he believed the horse would die if some of the circus horses were not brought back to keep him company. At about daylight the proprietor mounted a horse and rode after the circus. He overtook it ten or twelve miles away, and the groom who had charge of the injured horse returned with him. When they reached the stable the horse was dead. The stableman said that he remained for nearly an hour perfectly still, and with every sense apparently strained to the utmost tension, and then, without making a sign, IV.I1 ?,wl /iin/1 M'itlmnt <rrii(rfr]p.? 1VJII (lliVi \ I 1 VA4 It 4V?IV/V? V ?? - * **pp[Western Sportsman. Wish Words.?Practice is ninetenths. Never trust much to a new friend. Living only avails, not the having lived. Concentration is the secret of strength. Employ no one to do what you can do yourself. Trust thyself; every heart vibrates to that iron string. Letter to die at the post of duty than to live elsewhere. Evil is talked of, hut good is taken as a matter of course. Most things that are said to he smart will not hear analysis. No man was ever strong enough to conquer his own prejudices. Slander is a slime which envious people throw on others better than themselves. Evil talkers should he arrested for carrying concealed weapons in their tongues. Knowledge, like money, increases our responsibility in proportion to the amount obtained. We build harriers against the flood tide: we should place some restraints to all prosperity. The man who runs from a bumble bee may show great courage when lighting with a lion. Flags, brass bands and ii reworks may influence weak minds, but they are not real arguments. The grounding of the cruiser Boston in Newport Harbor calls attention to the fact that our ships of war are not permitted to carry pilots. A naval officer of the United States is expected to know every harbor in the world, be ail accomplished diplomate, understand the game of poker, be proficient as a leader of the german, understand electricity in all its applications, and, in short, be a sea-going cyclopaedia without fear and without reproach. There is a good deal that is unreasonable about this. There is a limit to the mental capacity of even an Annapolis graduate. JQ