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XjaTWIS M. GRIST, Proprietor.} gill JlUlcpCltclcnf Jimitg ?1?lWr: Jot till! |)r0lll0ti0ll of tllC }Mfal JlltWCStS Of the j&Otlth. {TERMS?$2.00 A TEAR IS ADVANCE. VOL. 86. Y OBKYILLE, S. C? WEDNESDAY, JANUARY28, 1891. NO. 51^ MYSTERY OF I BY PBBG-TTI CHAPTER XXVm kjlrk nunrun m? a vairon. Aocording to the copy books of oar youth, "procrastinatico k (be thief of timet" tad, eartalnlj. Brian foandtfaat the remark was a true oca. He bad been nearly a week In town, jet oouid not make op hia mind to go and we Caltoo, and though morning after morning be eet oat with the detenniMto to go etraight to Chancery km* jet he never arrived there. He bad gone to m Bmt Melbourne and pawed his time either in tbe boose or in taking long walks in the garden, or akmg the banks of the mnddj Yarra When be did go into town, on bnsinaw connected with MMt Of bis naooo, oe drove ugniaa back in a hansom. for be bad a curious shrinking against seeing any of his friends. As soon as his station was sold, and be married to Madge, he determined to leave Australia, and never set foot on it again. But until he oooJd leave the place he saw no one, nor mixed with his former friends, so great was his dread at being scared at Mrs. 8ampeoa. who bad welcomed him back with shrill exclamations of delight, was krad in bar expression* of disapproval as to the way he was shutting himself up. "Toor eyes twin' 'ollow," said the sympathising cricket, ~it is oatfral as it's want of air, which my 'ueband's uncle, being a draggist an wall to do fa Oolllngwood. mens 'ow a want of ox-hye-gect, being a Preach name, m * called the n tin topers, were fearful for p?iHw people down, an sua kin' "em go off their food, which yon hardly eats anythin', an* not bain* a butterfly It's expected as your appetite would be larger." "Oh, Pm all right. *" said Brian, absently. ftgbtinft ? cigarette and only half listening to hk landlady's garrulous chatter; "but if ? w-Jl sWark IW nAf In I rlrtnt BQJ OD0 rmir wu wm &ui -??? want to t>e bothered by visitors." uBein as wfae ' thing *ha Solomon ever Id." answered Miv B&mpeoa. energetically, "which no doobt to in goad ealtb when eta tba qoaao ot Sbebar, as to nee wary wheoanyooe oalto. and not feelm' dtopond to speak, wfalcb I'm often that way myself on oooayione. my eperita bein low. IV? toard tell seder water 'eve that effect oo 'em which yon takes it with a dash of brandy, tbc/to ha am that might hatha came of yoar want of' hfa, ud?drat that ball." aha a??ieh?H harrying oat of the room u the front door ball jocadsd. "which vaj toga to a-giTts way wirier ma thro* bain* overworked." Meanwhile Brian eat and emoked contentedly. much relieved by the departure of Mra Bampeoo, with her constant chatter, bat ha soon beard bar mount the stain again, and tow entered the room with * telegram, whiab be handed to her lodger " Upln' It don't contain btod noose," she aid. ec she recreated to the door again. Tearing open the red marked envelope, ft turned oat to be from (Badge, saying that they bad oome back to town and asking him down to dinner that evening FiUgerald . folded op the telegram, than rising from hit seat, walked moodily up and down the room with his bands in his pockets. "So be to there." said the yoong man aloud. "and I than Have to meet turn ana bake ha rati with him, knowing all the time what be Ml If it wen not for Madge W leave this rumd place at oooe. bat after the way aha Mood by me in my trouble 1 should be a ooward if 1 did ea" ft was aa Madge bad predicted?ber father was unable to stay long in ooe place, sad had oome back to Melbourne a week after Brian bad arrived. The pleasant patty at the nation was broken op. and, like the graves of a household, the guests were scattered far and wide. Paterson bad left for Hew Zealand en roots for the wonders of the Hot lakes, and the old colonist was about to start for g"gi?nd in order*to refresh hii boyish memories. Mr and Mrs. RoDeston had oome bach to Melbourne, where the wretched Vatyx was oompslled once more to plunge into poUtfoa, sad Or. Ohioston tuul rssmlnsrl his ssnsl routine of fees and patients. On receiving Madge'*- telegram, Brian determined to go down in the evening, bat not to dinner, so he sent a reply to Madge to that effect, He did not want to meet Mark Frettlby, bat did not. of ooarse, tell this to Madge, so she had ber dinner by herself, as her father had gone in to his dob, and the time of his recurs was uncertain. After dinner she wrapped a light cloak round her and went oat loo to the veranda to wait for ber lover. The garden looked charming in the moouligbt with the black, dense cyprwa trees standing op against the sky and the great fountain splashing oool and silvery. There was a heavily foliaged oak jast by the gate, and aba scrolled down the path and stood under it in the shadow, listening to the whisper and rustle of its multitudinous leaves. It is carious the unearthly glamour which moonlight seams to throw over everything, and though Madge knew every flower, tree and shrub to the garden, yet they all looked weird and fantastical in the ooid, whits light She went up to the fountain, and seating herself oo the edge, amossd herself by dipping her imud into the chilly and letting it lull, like silver rain, back into the basin. While thus engaged she heard the iron gate open and shut with a clash, and springing to ber feet saw a gentleman coming up the path in a light coat and soft wideawake bat "Oh, it's you at last. Brianr she cried, as she ran down the path to meet him. "Why did you not oome before r "Mot being Brian, i cant say," answered ber father s voice, Madge burst out laughing. "What an absurd mistake," she cried. "Why, 1 thought you were Brian." "Indeed!" "Yes. In that bat and coat I couldn't tell the difference in the moonlight" "Oh," said ber father, with a laugh, pushing his bat back, "moonlight is necessary to complete Che spell, 1 suppose!" "Of course," answered his daughter. "If there was do moonlight alas for lovers P* "Alas, indeed r echoed her father. "They would become as extinct as the moa; but where are your eyes. Puss, when you take an old man like me for your gay young Lochia varf "Wall, really, papa," answered Madge, deprecating ly, "you do took so like bim in that ooat and bat that 1 could not tell the difference till you spoke." "Nonsense, child," said Frettlby, roughly, "you are fanciful." And turning on bis heel he walked rapidly toward the bouse, leaving Madge staring after bim in astonishment, as well she might, for ber father bad never spoken to ber ao roughly before Wondering at the cause of his sadden anger, the stood spellbound until there came a step behind ber and a oft, low whistla She turned wltb a creaza and saw Brian smiling at ber. "Oh, it's yon." she said, with a pout, as be aaugbt bar in his arms and kissed her. "Only ma," said Brian, ungrammatically; "disappointing, isn't itr "Oh. fearfully," answered the girl, with a gay laugh, as arm in arm they walked towards the boose. "But do you know 1 made such a ounous mistake Just now; I thought papa was you." "Eow strange,r mid Brian, absently, far indeed be was admiring her charming face, which looked so pure and sweet in the moonlight, "Yea wasn't Itr she replied. "He had on a light coat and a soft hat, just like you wear sometimea and as you are both the same height. 1 took you for one another." Brian did not answer, but then was a cold fooling at his heart as be saw a possibility of his worst suspicion* being confirmed, for just *t that moment there came into his mind the curious coincidence of the man who got into the hansom cab being dressed the same as he was. What if?"nonsense," he' said aloud, rousing himself oat of the train of thought the resemblance had suggested Tin sure it isn't," said Madge, who bad been talking about something else for the last five minutes. "Too are a very rude young man." "1 beg your pardon." said Brian, waking opt "You were saying" "That the horse is the most noble of all nr.lTnala Exactly." "1 dont understand"?began Brian, rather puzzled. ;JOf coarse yoo don't," interrupted Madge, petulantly; "considering I've been wasting my eloqoenoe on a deaf man for the last ten minutes, and very likely lame as well as deaf " And to prove the truth of the remark, she ran up the path with Brian after ber He had a long chase of fc, for Madge was nimble and better acquainted with the garden than be was, bat at kst be caught her just as she was running up the steps into the boose, and tbeo?history repeats itself. They went into the drawing room and found that Mr Frettlby bad gone up to his study and did not want to be disturbed. Madge sat down to the piano, bat before she struck a note, Brian took both her hands prisoner* "Madge," he said gravely, as she tamed round, "what did your father say whan yon mds that mistake*" "He was very angry," she answered. "Quite cross, Tm sore I dont know why." Brian sighed as he released ber hands, and 1 HANSOM CAB. 9 W. HUME. j was about to reply when the visitors' bell Kronded, they beard the servant answer it, and then some one was taken ap stain to Mr. FVettlby's study WImd the footman oame in to light tbegai), Madge asked who it was that bad come to th? door i "I dont know, miss,'' be answered; "be mil ! be wanted to see Mr. FVettiby particularly, , sol took him np to the study." "But I thought that papa said be was and , to be disturbed r "Yes, miss, bur the gentleman had as aj> pointment with him." "Poor papa," sighed Madge, turning agatu to the plana "He has always got snch a lot to da" Left to themselves, Madge began playing Waldteufel's last new value, a dreamy, haun;> ing melody, with a touch of sadness in ft* and Brian, lying lazily on the sofa. Listened Then she sang a gay little French song about I lore and a butterfly, with a moo king refrain, i which made Brian laugh. Madge suddenly stopped, as she beard a , load. cry. evidently proceeding from bcr father's study Recollecting Dr. Chinston's warning, she ran oat of the room and o]> stairs, leaving Brian rather puszied by bisen ceremonious departure, for though he had beard the cry, yet he did not attach much importance to it Madge knocked at the study door, and tbe? i she tried to open it, bat it was locked. "Who's there!" asked her father sharplly from inshda "Only me, papa," she answered. "I thought you were"? "Not No?Hm all right," replied bor father, quickly. "Go down stairs, PU joiln you shortly " Madge went back to the drawing room only half satis tied with the explanation. 81? found Brian waiting at the door, with rathar an anxious face. 1 "What's the matter?" be asked, as she paused a moment at the foot of the stairs. "Papa says nothing," she replied, "but I am sure be must have been startled, or lie would not have cried out like that." She told him what Dr Chinstoo bad s&id 1 about the state of her father's heart, a re* cifial which shocked Brian greatly They did not return to the drawing room, but went out oo the veranda, where, after wrapping i a cloak around Madge, Fitzgerald lit a cigt^r; etta They sat down at the far end of the veranda, somewhat in the shadow, and could see the hail door wide open and a wai-m 1 flood of mellow tight pouring therefrom, and beyond Che cold white moonshine After about a quarter of an boar, Madge's alarm about her father having somewhat subsided, they were chattiug on indifferent subjects, when a man came out of the hall door and paused for a moment on the steps of the veranda. He was dressed In a rather fashionable salt of clothes, bat, in spite of the beat of the night, had a thick white silk scurf round bis throat. I. "That's rather a cool Individual," told Brian, removing his cigarette from betvnjen his teeth "1 wonder what?good God!" he cried, rising to his feet as the stranger t urned round to look at the bouse and took off his hat for a moment. "Roger Morelandl" The man started and looked quickly round Into the dork shadow of the veranda where they were seated, then, putting on his hat, ran quickly down the path, and Shey heard the gate clang after him. Madge felt a sudden fear at the expression on Brian's race, and revealed by a ray of moonlight, streaming foil ou it, ! "Who is Roger MorelandT she asked, i touching bis arm. "Ah! I remember," with sudden horror. "Oliver Whyte's friend." "Yes." in a hoarse whisper, "and one of the witnesses at the trial." CHAPTER XXIX. n. cxlstoit's curiosity 18 SATISriXtX There was not much sleep for Brian that , night. He >eft Madge almost immediately, ' and went l. me. but did not go to bed. He felt too anxious and ill at ease to sleep, and i passed the greater part of the night wallang up and down his room, occupied with his own i sad thoughts. Be was wondering in his own . mind as to what could be the meaning of Roger More land's visit to Mark Frettlby. All the evidence that he had given at the trial was that he had met Whyta. and had been drinking with him daring the evening. Whyte then went out, and that was the last Moreland had seen of him. Now, the question was, "What did he go to see ft [ark j Frettlby forf" He bad no acquaintance with him, Hnd yet ho called by appointment It is tine he might have been in poverty, and the millionaire being well known as an extremely generous man, Moreland might have called ou bun to get money. Bnt then the I ... i mliinli GVot-tlhtr hu) eriiren nftar thfc ln? torview bad lasted a short time proved that i I bad been startled. Madge bad gone op , stairs and found the door locked, her father reftmng her admission. Now. why wits be so anxious Moreland should not be seen by any one' That he bad made some startling revelation was certain, and Fitzgerald felt are that it was in connection wltta the hansom cab murder case He weaned himself with conjecture about the matter and toward daybreak threw himself, dressed as he was. on the bod, and slept heavily till 13 o'clock the next day When he arose and looked at himself In the glass be was startled at tbe haggard and worn appearance of his face The moment he was awake his mind went back to Mark Frettlby and tbe visit of Roger Moreland. "Tbe net is closing round him." be murmured to himself. '1 dont see bow he can escape Oh' Madge' Madge' If 1 could only spare vou the bitterness of knowing what you must know, sooner or latei. and that other unhappy girl?tbe sins of the tethers will be visited on the children?Ood help thorn * j He bad his bath, and, after dressing him! self. went into his sitting room, where be had a cap of tea. which refreshed him considerably Mrs. Sampson came crackling merrily upstairs with a letter, which proved to be from Madge, and tearing it hastily open, he read it "1 cannot understand what is the matter with papa." she wrote. "Ever since that man | Moreland left last night, he shut birnsalf up in bis study. and is writing there hoar after hour t went up this morning, but be would aot let me la lie did not come down to ! breakfast and 1 am getting seriously alarmed. Comedown tomorrow and see me, for 1 am anxious about hfs state of health, and 1 am sure that Moreland told him something which has upset him." "Writing." said Brian, as he put tbe letter in bis pocket, "what about 1 wonder" Perhaps he is thinking of committing sulcidel If so, 1 for one will aot stop him. lit Is a horrible thing to do. but it would be acting for tbe best under the circumstances." in spite or his determination to see Calton and tell all. Fitzgerald did not go nexr him that day He felt til and weary, the want of sleep and mental worry telling on him fearfully and be looked ten years older than he did before the murder of Why to. He was having his breakfast at half-past 8, when be beard the sound of wheels, and immediately afterward a ring ac the bell. He went to the window, and saw C.aJton's trap was at the door while the owner was shortly afterwaro shown into the room. "Well, vou are a nice fellow." cried Calton. after greetings were over " Here I've been waiting for you with all the paciunce of Job. thinking you were still up country " "You must have some breakfast with me," NUU Lit UUI Calcon bavins been supplied with vrhat be required, prepared to talk business. "I need hardly tell you how anxious I air to hear what you have to say ." he said, leaning back in his chair "but 1 may as well tell you chat 1 am satisfied that 1 know half your secret already " "Indeed'" Fitzgerald looked astonished* "in that case, i need not" "Yes you oeed," retorted Calcon. "I told you 1 only know nail." Which half" "Hum -rather difficult to answer?bowever. I'll tell vou wtia. | know and ron can supply all deficiency*. I am quite readygo on?stop?" he arose and closed ( be door carefully "Well." resuming bis seat, "Mother Guttersnipe died the other night," "l* she 'Vail'* "Aii a door nail." answered Calton calmly. "And a norrible death bed it was?ner screams ring in my ears vet-hut before she died she sent lor me. and said" "What?" "That she was the mother of Irtosanna Moore." "Yea I" "And that Sal Rawlins was Rnsamuft child." "And the father'" said Brian, hi a low voice "Was Mark FYettlby " "Ab "And now what have yon to tell mer "Nothing'" "Nothing." echoed Calton. surprised. "then this is what Rosanna Moore told you when she died?" "Yes i" "Then why have yon made such a mystery about it?" "Too ask chat," said Fitzgerald, looking op In surprise. "If 1 bad told ft, dont yon see what a difference It would have made to Madge r 'Tm sure 1 dont," retorted the barrister, completely mystified. "1 suppose you mean Frettlby'a connection with Rosanna Moore; well, of course, it was not a very creditable thing for her to have been Frettlby'a mistrem, but still" "His mlstressf" said Fitzgerald, looking op sharply, "then yon dont know all" "What do yon mean?was she not his mi* tressf' "No?his wifel* _ "No?/its un/o/* Calton sprang to nis feet, and gave a cry of mirnrian. "His wafer Fitzgerald nodded. "Why, Mother Guttersnipe did not know this?she thought Rosanna was hla mistress. " "Be kept his marriage secret," answered Brian, "and as his wife ran away with some > one else shortly afterwards, he never re! vealed it," i "I understand now," said the barrister, slowly "For if Mark Frettlby was lawfully married to Ros&nna Moore?Madge ts Illegitimate." "Yes, and she now oocupiee the plaoe which Sal Rawlou?or rather Sal Frettlby? ought to." ! "Poor girl," said Calton, a little sadly. "But all this does not explain the mystery of Why^e's murder." j "1 will tell you that," said Fitzgerald, quickly "When Ros&nna left her husband, she ran away to England with some young fellow, and when be got tired of her she returned to the stage, and became famous as a burlesque actress, under the name of Musette. There she met Whyte, as your friend found out, and they came out here for the purpose of extorting rrv uiey from Frettlby. Wheu they arrived in .Melbourne, Rosanna left Wbyte do all the business and kept herself quiet. She gave her marriage certificate to Whyte, and he bad It on him the night I he was murdered." I "Then Gorby was right," interposed Calton. eagerly "The man to whom those papers were valuable did murder Whyter "Can you doubt itf And that mar was"? "Not Mark Frettlby*" burst out Calton. **In God's name, not Mark Frettlby J" Brian nodded. "Yes. Mark Frettlbyf" j There was a sileuoe for a few momenta, Calton being too much startled by the revelation to say anything. " \V her did you discover this*" he asked, after a pause. 1 "At the time you first came to see me In ! prison," said Brian. "1 bad no suspicion till j then, but when vou said Whyte was murdered fat the sake of certain papers?know. ing what they were and to whom tney were ; valuable?1 Immediately guessed that Mark i Frettlby bad killed Whyte in order to obtain j their and keep hiB secret." "There can be no doubt of It," said the barrister. with a sigh. "8c this is the reason Frettlby wanted Madge to marry Whyte? | bear hand was to be the price of his silence. When be withdrew bis consent Whyte threatened birr with exposure. I remember be left the boose in a very excited state on the night ' be was murdered. Prettlby most have followed him up to town, got into the cab with J talm. and aftei killing him with chloroform took the marriage certificate from his secret pocket and escaped.p Brian rose to his feet and walked rapidly tip and down the room. "Now you can understand what a hell my life has beeik for the last few months,"-be I paid, "knowing that be had oommitted the crime, and yet I had to sit with him, eat -with him and drink with him, with the knowledge that he was a murderer, and Madge?good God?Madge, his daughter!" Just then a knock came to his door, and 'Mrs. Sampson entered with a telegram, which she handed to Brian. Be tore it open as she withdrew, and, glancing over it, gave a cry ! of horror and left it flutter to his feet Caiton turned rapidly on hearing his cry, ' and, seeing him tall into a chair with a ghastly white face, snatched np the telegram and read it When be did so his face grew jm pale and startled as Fitzgerald's, and, lifting his hand, he said solemnly: "ft is the judgment of Goal" CHATTER XXX. NEMESIS. After all, the true religion of Fate has been preached by George Eliot, when she says that our lives are the outcome of our i actions. Every action, good or bad, which | we do has its corresponding reward, and Hark Frettlby found it so, for the sins of his youth were now being, punishod in his old age. No doubt be haa sinned gayly enough in that far off time when life's cup was still brimming with wine, and no asp hid among i the roses; but Nemesis had been an unseen i spectator of all his thoughtless actions, and | bow came to demand her just lues. He felt j oomewhat as Faust must have felt when Hephistopheles suggested a visit to hades, in repayment for those years of magic youth and magic power So long ago it seemed since he bad married Rosanna Moore, that he almost persuaded himself that it had been only a dream?a pleasant dream, with a disagreeable awakening. When she had left him be bad tried to forget her, recognizing how unworthy 6be was of a good man's love He beard that she bod died in a London hospital, and with a passionate sigb for a perished love bad dismissed her from his thoughts forever His second marriage bad turned out a happy one, and he regretted the death of bis wife deeply. Afterwards, all his love centered in bis daughter, and he thought he would bo able to spend his declining years in peace This, however, was not to be. and he was thunderstruck when Whyte arrived from England with the information that his drst wife still lived, that the daughter of Mark Frettlby was Illegitimate Sooner than this. Frettlby agreed to anything, but Whyte's demands became too exorbitant, and be refused to comply with them. On Whyte's death he again breathed freely, when suddenly a second possessor of his fatal secret started up in the person of Roger Moreland. The day after be had seen Moreland, and knew that his secret was uo longer safe, since it was in the power of a man who might reveal it at any moment In a drunken lit or out of 6heer maliciousness, he sat at his desk writing. There seemed to be only one way open to him by which be could escape the relentless fata nrhtnh rlncrtrtvl hia He WOllld Write a oonfession of everything from the time he had first met Koeanua. and then?death. He would cut the Ixordian knot of all bis difficulties, and then his secret would be safecafe, no, it could not be while ftloreland lived. When he was dead Morelaud would eee Madge and embitter her life with the ctory of her father's sins. yes. he must live to protect her. and drag his weary chain of bitter remembrances through life, always with that terrible sword of Damocles hanging over him But still he would write out his confession, and ufter his death, whenever it may happen, it might help if not altogether exculpate, at least to secure some pity for a man who had been hardly dealt with by fata His resolution taken, be put it into force at once, and sat all day at his desk filling page after page with the history of his past life, which was so bitter to him. He started at first languidly, as in the performance of an unpleasant but necessary duty. Soon, however, he became interested in it, and took a peculiar pleasure in putting down every minute circumstance which made the case stronger against himself. He dealt with it, not as a criminal, but as a prosecutor, and painted bis conduct as much blacker than it really hod been. Towards the end of the day, however, after reading over the early sheets, he experienced a revulsion of feeling, seeing bow severe he had been on himself, so he wrote a defense upon his conduct, showing that fate had been too strong for him. It was a weak argument to bring forward, but still he felt it was the only one ho could maka It wusquitejdark when he had finished, and while silting in the twilight, looking dreamily at the sheets scattered all over his desk, be beard a knock at his door and heard his daugber's voice asking if lie was coming to dinner. All day long ho bad closed his door against every one, but now his tusk being ended, he collected all the closely written sheets together, pluced them in a drawer of his escritoire, which he locked, and then opened the door. "Dear papa," cried Madgo as she entered rapidly, and threw her arms around his neck, "what have you been doing here all day by .yourself f" " W nting." returned her father laconically, I as he gently removed her arms. "Why, 1 thought you were ill," she an- j swered, looking at him apprehensively. "No, dear," he replied, quietly. "Not 111, but worried." "1 knew that dreadful man who came last night bad told you something to worry you. Who was hef "Oh I a friend of mine," answered Frettlby, with hesitation. "What?Roger Morelandf Her father bturod "How do you know it was Roger More- ! landr "Oh! Brian recognized him as he went out * Mark Frettlby hesitated for a few momenta, and then busied himself with the papers on his desk, as he replied in a low voice: "You are right?it was Roger Moreland? he Is very hard up. find as he was a friend of poor W byte's, asked me to assist him, which 1 did" He hated to hear himself telling such a deliberate falsehood, but there was no help ; for it- - Madge must never know the trnth as | long as he could conceal it "Just like you," said Madge, kissing him lightly with filial pride. "The best and kind- ' est of men." He shivered slightly as he felt her caress. and thought bow she would recoil from him I did she know alL "After all," says some cynical writer, "the illusions of youth are mostly due to the want of experienoa" Madge, ignorant in a great measure of the world, cherished her pleasant illusions, i though many of them bad been destroyed by the trials of the past year, and her fattier longed to keep her in this frame of mind. "Now go down to dinner, my dear," he i said, leading her to the door. "I will follow soon." "Dont bo long," replied nu aaugmer, -or 1 shall come ap again," and she ran down stairs, ber heart feeling strangely light Her father looked after her until she vani is hod, then heaving a regretful sigh, returned to his study, and taking out the scattered papers fastened them together, and indorsed them, "My Confession." He then placed them in an envelope, sealed it and put it 1 back in the desk. "If all that is in that packet were known," he said aloud, as he left the room, "what would the world say!" That night he was singularly brilliant at the dinner table Generally a very reticent and grave man, on this night be laughed and talked so gayly that the very servants noticed the change. The fact was that be felt a sense of relief at having unburdened hit mind, and felt as though by writing oat that confession he had laid the specter which bad haunted him for so long. His daughter was I delighted at the change in his spirits, bat the old Scotch nurse, who had been in the bouse sinoe Madge was a baby, shook ber head. "He's fey," she said gravely. "He's no Lang for tho world." Of course she was laughed at?people who believe In presentiments generally are?but, nevertheless, she ' held firmly to ber opinion. : Mr Frettlbv went to bed early that night, as the excitement of the last few days and the gayety in which be had lately indulged ! proved too strong for him. No sooner had | be laid his bead on bis pillow than he dropped | off to sleep at once, and forgot in plaoid slumber the troubles and worries of his waki ing hours j It was only 9 o'clock, and Madge by herself in the great drawing room began to long for some one to talk to, and, ringing the bell, ordered 8al to be sent in. The two girls had become great friends, and Madge, thongh two years younger than the other, auumed the role of mentor, and under her guidanoe Sal was i rapidly improving. It was a strange irony : of fate which brought together these two children of the same father, each with inch 1 different histories?the one reared in luxury and affluence, never having known want; the other dragged up in the gutter, all onsexed and besmirched by the life she bad led. "The whirligig of time brings in its revenges," and it was the last thing in the world Mark Frettlby would have thought of seeing: Rosonna Moore's child, whom be fancied dead, under the sams roof as his | daughter Madge. On receiving Madge's menage Sal came to j the drawing room, and the two were soon . , chatting amicably together. The drawing room was almost to darrnea, amy one uanp being lighted. j They had been talking together for some time, when Sal's quick ear caught a footfall ! on the soft carpet, and, turning rapidly, she saw a tall figure advancing down the room. Madge saw it too, and started up in surprise on recognizing her father. He was clothed in his dressing gown and carried some papers in his hand. "Why, papa," said Madge, In surprise, ?p "Hush P whispered Sal, grasping her arma I "He's asleep." And so he was. In acoordance with the ' I dictates of the excited brain, the weary body , had risen from the bed and wandered about j the house. The two girls, drawing back into i the shadow, watched him with bated breath as be came slowly down the room. In a few ' moments he was within the circle of light, 1 and, moving noiselessly along, he laid the I | papers he carried on the table. They were in a large blue envelope, much worn, with writing in red ink on it Sol recognized it at | once as the one she had seen the dead woman with, and with an instinctive feeling that there was something wrong, tried to draw Madge back as she watched her father's i | action with an intensity of feeling which held , her spellbound. Frettlby opened the enve- ! i lope and took therefrom a yellow, frayed piece of paper, which be spread oat on the tabla Madge beat forward to see it, but Sal, with sodden terror, drew her back. Madge bent forward to tee it, "For God's sake, no," she cried. But it was too late; Madge had caught sight of the names on the paper?"Marriage i ' ? Rosanna Moore ? Mark Frettlby" ? the whole awful truth flashed upon her. These ! were the papers Rosanna Moore had handed j to Whyte. Whyte had been murdered by the man to whom the papers were of t value "God! My father!" She staggered blindly forward, and then, with one piercing shriek, fell to the ground. In doing so, she struck against her father, who was still standing beside the tabla Awakened suddenly, with that wild cry in his ears, he opened his eyes wide, put out feeble hands, as if to keep something back, and with a strangled cry fell dead on the floor beside his daughter. Sal, horror struck, did not lose her presence of mind, but, snatching the papers off the table, she thrust them into her pocket, and then shrinked aloud for the servants. But they, already attracted by Madge's wild cry, came hurrying in, to And Mark Frettlby, the millionaire, lying dead, und his daughter lying in a faint beside her father's corpse. CHAPTER XXXI. ETUSH MONEY. An soon as Brian received the telegram which announced the death of Mark Frettlby he put on his hut, stepped into Calton's trap, and drove along to the St. Kilda station, ih Flinders street, with that gentleman. There Calton dismissed his trap, sending a note to U1S Cierii Willi me gruuiu, uuu weubuunu IAI Bt. Hilda wiifo Fitzgerald. Oil arrival they found the whole bouse perfectly quiet and orderly, owing to the excellent management ot Sal Rawlins. She bad taken the command in everything, and although the serv ants, knowing her antecedents, were disposed to resent hei doing so, yet such were her ad ministrativc powers and strong will that they obeyed her implicitly Murk Frettlby's body had been taken up to his bedroom. Madge hail been put to. bed, and Or Chinston and Brian sent for. When they arrived they could not help expressing their admiration at the capital way in which Sal Rawlins bad managed things. "She's a clever girl, that," whispered Cal ton tc Fitzgerald "Curious thing she should have taken up her propel position in her father's bousa Fate is a deal cleverer than we mortals think her " Brian was about tc reply when Dr. Chinston entered the room. His face was very grave, and Fitzgerald looked at him In alarm. "Madge?Mis? Frettlby," he faltered "Is very ill," replied the doctor; has an attack of brain fever. I can't answer for the consequencer yet." r Brian sat down on the sofa and stared at the doctor in a dazed sort of way Madge dangerously ill?perhaps dying. What if she did die, and be tost the true hearted woman who stood so uobly by him in his trouble! "Cheer up," said Chinston, patting him op the shoulder: "while there's life there's hope, and whatever human aid cmn do to save her will be dona" Brian grasped the doctort hand In sOence, his heart being too full to speak. "How did Frettlby dieflasked Calton. "Heart disease." said Chinston. "Hisheart was very much affected, as 1 discovered a week or so ago. It appears he was walking in his sleep, and entering the drawing room be alarmed Miss Frettlby, who screamed and must have touched him. He awoke suddenly, and the natural consequences followed?he dropped down dead," "What alarmed Miss Frettlbyr asked Brian in a low voice, covering his faoe with his band. "The sight of her father walking in his sleep, 1 suppose," said Chinston, buttoning his glove, "and the shock of his death, which took place indirectly through her, amounts tor the brain fever." "Madge Frettlby Is not the woman to scream and waken a somnambulist," said Calton, decidedly, "knowing as she did the danger There must be some other reason " "This young woman will tell you all about it," said Chinston, nodding toward Sal, who entered the room at this moment "She was present, and siuoe then has managed things admirably, and now I most go," he said, shaking hands with Caiton and Fitigerald. "Keep up your heart my boy; Fll poll her through yet" After the doctor hgfl JfcWS Caltoo .turned sharply to Sal Rawlins, who stood waiting to be addressed. "Well," he said briskly, "can you tell ue what startled Miss Frettlby!" "1 can, sir," she answered, quietly, "I was In the drawing room when Mr. Frettlby died ?but?we had better go up to the study " *T Uy f (UKCU v^aiuuu, UJ wu pi loo, mm uv and Fitzgerald followed her op staira. "Because, sir," she said, when they bad en tered the study and she bad locked the door, "1 don't want any one but yourselves to know what 1 tell you." "More mystery," muttered Calton, as be glanced at Brian, and took his seat a* the escritoire "Mr. Frettlby went to bed early last night," said Sal, calmly, "and Mia Madge and 1 were talking together in the drawing room, when be entered, walking in his sleep, carrying some papers" Both Calton and Fitzgerald started, and the latter grew pale "He came dowu the room and spread out b paper on the table where the lamp was. Miss Madge bent forward to see what It was. 1 tried to stop her, bnt It was too lata She gave a scream and fell on the door. In doing so she happened to touch her father. He awoke, and fell down dead." "And the papersf asked Calton, uneasily. Sal did not answer, but producing them from ber pocket, laid thorn in his hands. Brian bent forward as Calton opened tbe envelope in silence, bnt both gave vent to an exclamation of horror at seeing the certificate of marriage which they knew Rosanna Moore bad given to Whyta Their worst suspicions were confirmed, and Brian turned away bis boad, afraid to meet the barrister's eye The latter folded ap the papers thought fully and put them in his pocket. "You know what these arel" he asked Sol, eyeing her keenly. "1 oouid hardly help knowing," she answered. "It proves that Rosanna Moore waa Mr. Frettlby's wife, and"? 8he hesitated. "Go on," Kid Brian, In a harsh tone, look tng up. "And they were the papers she gave Mr. Whyte." "Weill" Sal was silent for a moment, and then looked op with a flush. "You needn't think Pm going to split," she said, Indignantly, recurring to ber Bourko street slang In the excitement of the moment "1 know what you know, but s'elp me G I'll be as silent as the gram" uThank you," said Brian, fervently, taking her hand; "1 know you love her too well to betray this terrible secret." "1 would be a nice un', 1 would," said Sal, with eoorn, "after her lifting me out of the gutter, to round on her?a poor girl like me, without a friend or a relative, now Gran's dead." Calton looked up quickly. It was plain Sal was quite ignorant that Rosanna Moore was her mother. So much the better; they would keep her In ignoranoe, perhaps not altogether, but it would be folly to undeceive her at present "I'm goin* to Miss Madge now," she said, going to the door, "and I wont see you again; she's getting lightheaded, and might let it out, but I'll not let any one in but myself," and so saying she left the room. "Cast thy bread upon the waters," said Calton oracularly. "The kindness of Miss Frettlby to that poor waif is already bearing fruit?gratitude is the rarest of qualities, rarer even than modesty." Fitzgerald made no answer, bat stared out of the window, and tnought of his darling lying sick unto death,- and he could do nothing to save her. "Well," said Calton, sharply. "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Fitzgerald, turning in confusion. "I suppose the will must be read, and all that sort of thing." "Yes," answered the barrister; "I am one of the executors." "And the others!" "Yourself and Chinston," answered Calton; "so 1 suppose," turning to the desk, "we can look at his papers, and see that all is straight." "Yes, I suppose so," replied Brian, mechanically, his thoughts far away, and then bo turnod again to the window. Suddenly Calton gave vent to an exclamation of surprise, and, turning hastily, Brian saw him holding a thick roll of papers in his hand, which he had taken out of the drawer. "Look here. Fitzgerald," be said, greatly excited, "hero is Frettlby's confession?look!" and he held it up. Brian sprang foward in astonish meut. Bo at last the hansom cab mystery was to be cleared up. These sheets, no doubt, oon tainod the whole narration of the crime and how It was committed. "We will read it, of course," he said, hesitating. half hoping that Calton would propose tc destroy it at once. "Yes,1- answered Calton, "the three executors must read it, and then?we will burn it." "That will be the better way." answered Brian gloomily "Frettlby is dead, and the law can do nothing in the matter, so it would be best to avoid the scandal of publicity But why tell Chinston f "We must." said Calton, decidedly. "He will be sure to gather the truth from Madge's ravings, and may as well know all He is quite safe, and will be silent a' the grave. o? i ? .-ii I7:i.i., P outi axil uii 'i c ?ui i jr w vcxi ump. The detective! Good God, Caiton, surely you will uot do sol" "1 must.'' replied the barrister, quietly. "Kilsip is firmly persuaded that More land committed the crime, aud 1 have the same dread of his pertinacity as you bad of mine. He may find out all." "What must be, must be." said Fitzgerald, clenching his hands "But 1 hope no one else will find out this miserable story. There's Moreland. for instance." "Ah. true!''said Caiton, thoughtfully. "He called and saw Frettlbj the other night, you sayf" "Yea I wonder what for!" "There is only one auswer," said the bar rister, slowly "He must have seen Frettlby following Whyte when he left the hotel, and wanted hush money " "1 wonder if be got it," observed Fitzgerald. "Oh, Pll soon find that out." answered Caiton, opening ch-drawer again, and taking out the dead man's chock book. "Let me see what checks liuvo been drawn lately." ?- laol* itKvnn fl 11 nA un rmfK OiUSI/ Ul tut* Ultn:K^ nuc Illlt-U up xmu small amounts, and urn ortwc for a hundred or so. Calton could rind no large sum such as Morelund would huv? demanded, when, at the very end of the hook, bo found a check torn off, lenvine the block slip quite blank. "There you are,1* he said, triumphantly, holding out the book to Fitzgerald. "He wasntsncb a fool as to write in the amount on (the block, but tore the check out, ?nd wrote in the sum required." "And what's to be done about itr "Let him keep it, of course," answered Calton. shi-ugging his shoulders. "It's the only way to secure his silence." "1 expect he cashed it yesterday, and is off by this time," said Brian, after a moment's pause. "So much the better for us," said Calton grimly "But 1 don't think he's off. or Kilsip would huve let mo know Wo must tell him, or he'll got everything out of Moreland, and the consequences would be that all Melbourne will know the story, whereas, by showing him the confession, we get him to leave Moreland aloue, and thus secure silence in both cases." "1 suppose we must see Chinstonr "Yes, of course I will telegraph to him and Kilsip to come up to inv office this afternoon at 3 o'clock, and then we will settle the whole matter " "And Sal RawlinsC "Oh I 1 quite forgot about her," said Calton, In a perplexed voice "She knows nothing about her parent-), and. of course, Mark PVettlby died in the belief that sho was dead." "Me must tell Madge." said Bruin, gloomily "There is no help for it Sal is by rights the heiress to the money of her dead 1 lather." "That depend* upon the will," replied Cal; toil, dryly "If It specifies that the money i 1* left to 'my daughter. Margaret FVettlby,' Sal Rawlins can have no claim, and If such is the case, it will be no good tailing her who , she it." "And what's to h- done/" "Sal Rawlins," went on the barrister, wtth: oat noticing the Interruption, "has evidently never given a thought to her father or ; mother, as the old hag, no doubt, swore they were dead So 1 think It will be best to keep silent?that is. If no money Is left to her, and, as her father thought her dead, 1 dout think there will he any lu that case, it would be best to settle an Income on her. You can easily find a pretext, and let the matter rest" "But suppose, tn accordance with the wording of the will, she is entitled to all the money r "In that case," said Calton, gravely, "there ! is only one course open?she most be told everything, and the dividing of the money left' to her generosity. But i don t think you i need be alarmed; I'm pretty sure Madge is the heiress." "IPs cot the money I think about," said Brian, hastily. "I'd take Madge without a penny." "My boy," said the barrister, placing his hand kindly on Brian's shoulder, "when you marry Madge Frettlby, you will get what is j Mter than money?a heart of gold," | [to be continued next week.j j Miscellaneous Reading. BEEF TEA IS A FRAUD. | IT COXTAIXS XO MORE SOURISHi Jf EXT Til A X WHETSTONE SOUP. Written for The Yorkvllle Enquirer. There is probably no idea that is so thoroughly grounded into the minds of the public generally than the supposed ! fact that In beef tea, or essence, we have ! one of the most highly concentrated j forms of nourishment?more nourish| ing than beef itself?because it is supposed to contain only the nutritive part | of the beef, and none of the non-nui tritious fibre. Some people, and I am J sorry to say a good many medical men, ; seem to think that a cup of strong beef tea does more good to the inner man ' than three square meals. They not ! only think it is very nourishing, but | they also think it very digestible, and ! that it is capable of sustaining life inJ definitely. These supposed facts, taken ! together, form the public ideal of a ! typical food for the sick. We meet this I idea in nearly every case of serious ! sickness that we are called upon to : treat. Just so soon as a patient can no 1 longer take food, and before we are able j to decide what would be the most suitI able nourishment under the circum! stances, the good lady in attendance informs us that she has some nice beef, and will soon make for the patient some beef tea. When you say that this will be unnecessary ; that you can sug! gest something better, she looks greatI ly astonished, and tells- you that the | first thing her good mother taught her j about sick people was how to make ' this for them ; and, furthermore, some' times adds that "you young doctors I have a great many new-fangled noI tions with which you try to upset all 1 that she was taught when a child, and I that she has heard ever since." She i says, also, that old Dr. A said there was I nothing like good rich beef tea for tne | siok, and that he kept her brother alive ! for .seven weeks on It?alopg with 9ome j milk and a soft-boiled egg occasionI ally. This good lady will generally | go on and give the tea anyway, which, ; however, doe9 not matter much, for it j" has the great advantage of being harmless. ! Frequently, in the sick room, you j will see some of the visitors and | nurses get oil' together in a corner und i discuss the various sick people whom I they have nursed, "that just cume as near dying as anybody ever did who did not actually do it." One will say, "I believe, iu fact I know, if I had not made and given hijn so much beef tea he would have died," They will theu enter into a profoundly scientific discussion as to the best method of pre: paring it. No conclusion eun, however, be reached, for each one ha# a recipe peculiarly her own, which is undoubtedly the best. Notwithstanding the opinion of all the laity, and u very large number of the doctors as well, I say, and challenge scientific contradiction, that the idea of beef tea being nutritious, as it is made in ninety-nine cases in one ! hundred, is a delusion and a snare. I say a delusion because it practically contains no nutriment ; and a snare, because it is given to our sick and depended on for nourishment that it does - - '"1 I not contain. i nc uiieuuuum aa mu; isfied that the patients are being nour| ished when really they are being slowly ; but surely starved to death. I believe j that a great many siek people who j might have been saved have been nlI lowed to die through too implicit re] lianee upon this much over-rated I "nourishment.'' j Let us now lay aside all of our pre! conceived opinions for the present? ! remembering that wise men change i their opinions?fools do not; and look j into this matter from u scientific standj point. In the first place, the most j used and approved way of making beef tea is to lake one-half pound of beef, i chip up very line, pour on one pint of i water, let it stand for one hour, then i place the jar in which the above is conj tained into a pot of cold water. This : is then put on the lire and boiled from ! two to four bom's. The tea is then strained through a cloth. The resulti ing product is a nice, clear liquid, I which, after seasoning with a little salt j and pepper, is ready for the patient, i Now, before allowing the patient to take his dose, suppose we look at it. We see a clear liquid with soniesettlings i at the bottom, and continuing the ex; animation, we find that the liquid is I simply water, containing a few mineral ! salts which were dissolved out of the ' beef, "but a world of disappointment" t so far as any nutriment is concerned, for outside oft he slight sediment at the | bottom (which is a coagulated albu; men. and is nutritious as far as it goes) there is no more nutriment in it than in boiled water. So we could save ourselves a great deal of trouble, and i do our sick as much good by giving them a glass of cool water at the start. j Let us look a little Curt her. Heel" is j composed mainly ol' lihrin ami albu| men (samesiihstanee as the white of an ' ejrc) alon?r with some mineral salts ami { coloring matter. The alhumen is the nutritive siihstanee. and is the substance that we attempt to lioil out. This substance is soluble in cool and tepid water; and so that when the beef is soaked in the cool water, a part of the albumen Is dissolved out. but the very moment the water is brought to the boliiift point (lili!" Kali.) every particle of albumen contained in the beef is conciliated into a hard luni|i which can never be dissolved in the water -not so much as one jrrain in a barrel. If you take the disintegrated beef that settles to the bottom of (he liipiid ami ?rivc it to the patient, you will then ?rihim something that is really very nourishing. This, however. is strenuously avoided. Ibryou are directed to strain it. and thereby you ret rid of every particle of nutritive ajreiil eoiitaineii therein. You mi^ht just as reasonably expect to sustain life by making an ccjr tea. breakinjr half do/eii eir^s into a pan. pour water on lhem. boil four hours, then strain and jrive to the patient. < hie is just as rood as the other so far as the amount of nourishment is concerned. If you want the beef essence, or tea. to be of any use. you should never raise the temperature of tin- water above one-half the boilinjr point. Beef essences, made without water. liuve a rich beef color, and smell and tuste like beef; but they are also practically worthless for food, and the same may be said of chicken-broth. I do not mean to be understood by the foregoing that these preparations should not be used. They should be, and are very valuable in their place. They act as a decided stimulant to the digestion of the patient, and also to the heart, owing to the salts and other chemical substances which are extracted from the beef. They suit the taste of some patients, and in such cases can be used as a menstruum in which to incorporate some nutritious substance. Possessing these properties, they fill a very useful place, but I repeat that they do not nourish, and should never, under any circumstances, be given with that end in view. A great many people will say that they have seen patients kept alive for a long time on beef tea, and that their practical experience is of more value to them than all of your "fine-spun" theories, however well they may be backed by chemistry. To such let me ask if they have not also seen patients who were not able to take any nourishment of any kiativhon fwii thirty to forty ii days, live and recover. To them I would emphatically say that they never saw any person kept alive 011 strained, clear beef tea. The various beef extracts and juices on the mar ket are mostly worthless. The most used?Liebig's extract of meat?is ut- ' terly worthless. This fact has been several times proven by experiments on dogs. One dog is given water and no food whatever; another is given water and Leibig's meat, and the one that is fed with the meat dies first. George Walker, M. D NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN. We pride ourselves on living in an age of discovery and invention and pity our ancestors for being born too soon. Yet much of this pity is misplaced. The real truth seems to be that the ancients knew about everything that we know, only the knowledge was not generally diffused. The learned man two or three thousand years ago was so far superior to the majority that he was regarded as a wizard, and prudently kept his learning to himself. In our schools of the present day we use "Euclid's Elements of Geometry," written by Euclid twenty-two hundred years ago. Euclid also wrote on music and optics, antedating much which we think we discovered. The science of optics must have been pretty far advanced in his day, because we know that Alexander the Great had a copy of the "Iliad" inclosed in a nutshell, and it is quite certain that It could not have been written without the aid of a microscope, bayard found in the ruins of Nlnevuh what Sir David Brewster pronounced to be a "magnifying glassand, nearly four thousand years ago the Egyptians and Assyrians observed the stars through a "sliding tube," which we have reason to believe was a telescope. We make some very fine razors at the present day. but we cannot make nol fbon oAtif oinn/1 in any unci nicci U1U1I liiaw VUiUUUIVU IM the Damascus swords and knives which the ancients used several thousand years ago, At the same time, the people of Tyre were such experts lu dyeing that the Tyrian purple remains unexcelled to this day, The Egyptains were also wonderflil dyers, and could produce colors so durable that they may be called imperishable. The ancients were wonderful glass workers, and discovered a method of making it malleable, which we have not been able to do. They could spin glass into garments, dye it in every shade of the rainbow, and etch it with marvelous skill. Twenty centuries bpfpye the biyth of Watt, Hero of Alexandria, described machines whose motive power was steam, He also luveuteu a double force-pump, used as a tire engine, and anticipated the modern turbine wheel by a machine he named "Neolpile." Electricity derives its name from the Greek word for amber, "electron," because Thales, about 600 B. C\, discovered that amber, when rubbed, attracts light and dry bodies, and in the twelfth century the scientific priests of of Eturia drew lightning from the clouds with iron rods, All the mechanical powers, the screw, lever, pulley, inclined plane, wedge wheel and axle, were known to the ancients, and used in every day life. They were i?M.i? expert ouuuers, us i-Aisuuft icmfl testify, The ancient Gauls used a reaping machine. Hobbs gave his name to a lock found in the tombs of Egypt. Natural gas. conveyed in bamboo tubes, was utilized in China centuries ago. and one of the old Mongolian authors writes of boxes which repeated the sound of voices of men long since dead. An approximation to the phonograph of Edison, In medicinal skill the oriental physicians of India practiced vacillation a thousand years ago, Amusthetlcs were known in the days of Homer, uud the Chinese, two I thousand years ago had a preparation of hemp, known us "una yo." to deadI en pain?something similar to the ! modern cocaine. Coins were stamped I with engraved dies so far pack that we I have lost the record, and movable I types are said to have been known to I the Romans. In all that pertains to j sculpture and painting, the ancients knew so much that their superiority lias never been questioned, and their work remains ns unsurpassed models. \Vc may say with truth that much of our boasted light and mechanical wisdom is hut the match put once again to the old caudle of our ancestors. | The old times were days of war and ! oppression, and the inventor hid his j invention for fear of being robbed. I The vast majority had no money to buy j a labor-saving device, even if they had brains to use it. It was not a practical age, and knowledge, as well as wealth, was con lined to the few. Nowadays an invention of value spreads over the world like a Hash of gunpowder, and in the light of modern common sense, j tiie invention of the common friction ; match lias doubtless done more for the { good of mankind than ail the diseov, cries of antiquity.?Golden Days. 1 .. I A \ It! 11. A NT TKKASl'KKK.-?T lie lull' i (Sen. Spinner was tint* of thi' most reI markablc liicii of hisaetivcdays. Dur' ing tIn* war. when exriti'im'nt ran , Inchest, lie liatl his meals served to | him at the treasury building. ami slept j near the vault doors. At this time it i was neeessuiA to almost daily transport large sums of money from Washj ingtoti to the sub-treasury in New York i city. Often one million dollars in } greenbacks were in one shipment, and j the express companies were charging j "war rates" for the conveyance of the j money. At this the general renioii! strated, but it was useless: the express ' company would not let up one iota, i and (ieii. Spinner, becoming angry, exclaimed. "The treasury shall not be thus robbed. I'll have a line of my own." In his department was a trusty intelligent Irishman in whom the general w as satisfied he eoulil eoiilide. That ' night, after all was still about the 1 building, one of the general's valises was filled to its full capacity, a hack drove to the treasury, and the trusted friend of the general was soon on his I way to New York with not less than a million dollars in greenbacks. This i was continued for several mouths, and i not a dollar was lost, and the express company ami the outside world were kept in total ignorance. Later an ollieer of the express company called oil j the general, who. without divulging his methods, dictated his own terms, and the man, who at the risk of his life had been the principal actor, assumed his old position at the department. RUBE BURROWS HOME. Mr. Lucien C. Minor, a route agent for the Southern Express company, was recently interviewed by a correspondent, who obtained some interesting information with regard tc Rube Burrows, the noted outlaw and train robber, who was killed in Alabama several months ago. Mr. Minor was with the detectives and officers on several occasions when they made attempts to capture Burrows, and he was in a position to learn much of the history and life of this noted desperado, and can detail a great many facts and incidents in connection with Rube's career that have never found their way into print. He said : Rube Burrows was an extra ordinary man in many respects, it is the popular belief that this freebooter of the swamps was a dashing, happygo-lucky sort of fellow, who loved excitement and lived high on his ill-gotten gains. The truth of the matter is neveriiadbntr very Tittle : at any one time, and his life was by no means a romantic one. In all his train robberies he never secured more than several hundred dollars at once, and his last raid, on the train at Flomaton, Ala., resulted in his securing only a little over $200. On other occasions, when he obtained $1,000, only apart of it fell to him, as it had to be divided with three of his partners of crime. He was often compelled to spend a very considerable part of what he did receive to get away from the scene of his robberies. He was as low a specimen of humanity as I ever looked upon. When killed he was dirty and filthy in the extreme. The cheap cotton shirt he wore was shiny with accumulated dirt and grease, and his torn and badlyworn coat was in the same plight. The dirt on his bearded face was so thick that it could be scraped off, and he certainly looked as though soap and water were, to him, altogether unknown quantities. His instincts were of the lowest sort, and he grew up tinder influences by no means civilizing. His parents, for $20, have sold the suit of clothes and coffin in which he was buried, to a museum man. His body was disinterred and the clothes removed. The enternrisimr museum man also took an impression for a plaster east of the dead outlaw, and in a short while a plaster figure of Rube, dressed up in his own grave elothes, with his coffin near to set off the picture, will be exhibited throughout the country. His usual hiding place waa *n the swamps of Florida. I have learned something of his manner of living when hiding out there. His rendezvous was in Santa Rosa county, across the bay from Pensacola, and a better place to hide one's self from the law could hardly be found. It is a dreary, desert sort of country, and very thinly populated. The swamps are covered with a thick, bushy growth, springing from a sort of white, shiny sand, that is dry and slippery, making it almost impossible to walk on it, for when you make a step you step back again with a scuffle and scramble to maintain your equilibrium. This sandy soil was Rube's bed, and the overhanging bushes his only roof. He never slept under the roof of a house, and this it was that made it so difficult for the officers to capture him. In the swamp known as "Tighteye swamp," the outlaw lived for months, eleven miles from any human habitation but one, There was a denizen of the swamps who lived in a hut near Rube's hiding-place, who befriended the bandit and regarded him with a certain sort of admiration. Burrows introduced himself to this old man's household as Mr. Ward, and kept them in ignorance of his real identity up to the time of his capture, though they knew he was an outlaw and that a price was upon his head. The old man had two daughters, with whom Rube is said to have been playing the part of a very gay Lothario, in his out-of-doors home in "Tight-eye swamp." The girls by turns visited him in the swamps and carried him food and drink. He always had some money with him, and as a dollar in the eyes of Rube's benefactor, the old man of the hut, seemed as big as a cart wheel, lie regarded the outlaw as a very great man, and treated him accordingly. A kind of signal service, which, while crude, was successful, was established between Rube and the hut. When there was no danger around, the girls would place a white rag on an old ox-whip and stick it up against the side of the house. Seeing this the outlaw at once understood that he could go to the house without danger of detection, hut lie would never go out of the swamp when the white flag was not visible. With the assistance of this family and the friendly covering of that almost impenetrable swamp in which he lived like Robin Hood in the heart of Barnesdale forest, it was next to impossible to capture him. and if he had not ventured out to secure more booty, instead of being killed he could still be basking in the smiles of the two devoted girls who so often befriended hint in his voluntary exile in ' Tight-eye swamp.'' TWO SPIKITKD UKXTLEMKX. Out of a misunderstanding that arose between Col. Algernon Hanks and Cupt. Bob Ball, there grew a perfect understanding?an understanding that these two highly influential and spirited gentlemen should meet at sunrise on a certain morning and deliberately shoot at each other. The cause ofthe quarrel matters not, this sketch deals with results. One evening just after Ball's ehal| lenge had been aeeepted, Hanks wussit| ting in his library, fondly gazing at his collection of rare old books and wondering if he had much longer to enjoy their refining influence, when there came a vigorous ring at the door bell: and. a moment later, a servant announced ('apt. Bob Ball. (Ireat was Hanks' astonishment, mixed with indignation, but being a gentleman of so pronounced a cast, he told tlie servant to show the visitor in. (food evening, ( apt. Ball." ' (iuod evening. Colonel. I hope I find vou well." "Well enough to lie food lor some- I tiling better than your powder. I I hope," Hanks responded. "Haw a | seat." All! thanks." Hall remarked, seat- j ing liiinself. After removing his gloves, | the visitor said : "1 know that yon can- j not help being surprised at this seem- | ingly untimely call, but when I have j explained, I opine that you will roek j your astonishment to sleep and awake j your gratitude." I "I shall enter into no eomproinise. j j ('apt. Hall. Volt have challenged me j j and nothing hut your blood?and I do \ ; not believe that it is of the best quality, ' either?will satisfy me." i "Oh! I did not eouie to request a ! change in the plans of our active ope- j rations, 1 am quite as anxious to tight as you are: more so. in fact. You ! know that I have ever borne the repu- j I tat ion of being one of the most prac- j tieal of men. My barbarian ancestors | . may have written rhymes, but there is no poetry in me. Man in an advanced I state of civilization is not poetical, he i is practical. Hut I will come at once to the point : Hotli of us have recently j I met with Huaiieial reverses: both of, j lis are at this moment in need of j j money." "True enough, but what has that to : do with our duel ?" "Has a great deal to do with it. sir. I l nave Deen mimcing 01 a pmu uy which one of us might be relieved. It is this: Our fight ? not to take place until day after to-morrow. Now suppose that we have our lives insured to-morrow. I will have my policy made over to you, and you have yours made over to me. If I am killed, you get twenty thousand dollars; if you fail, I get a similar sum." "By George, Ball1" the colonel exclaimed, "I don't know but that it is a good idea; but we shall not have time to fix up the papere." "We can put off the duel until the policies are fixed up. No one but our most intimate fHends know of the affair and they'll not say anything." < "I'm willing," said the colonel. "Twenty thousand dollars would come in mighty handy, I tell you. Say, I'll call on you at your office to-morrow and we'll make the arrangements." "All right. Good evening." The applications were made the next day and the policies were issued with as little delay as possible; but in' tile meantime, Hanks and Ball had seen so much of each other?had been drawn so close together by common interest? ^Lo^ ^here^^said Hanks, upon meeting Ball on the evening of the day before the fight was to take .plaof, hanged if I don't feel rather sorry that I shall have to shoot you. I have discovered points in your character that I like." < "And I feel that way toward you, too, Colonel, but as practical men we should not let sentiment interfere with our business arrangements." "That's a feet. Business before sentiment, you knpw. You'll be on the sandbar at sunrise, will you?" "Oh, yes, for I always keep my business engagements." The two men were promptly on hand the next morning. Their seconds, both worn out professional duelists, made no effort to bring about a peaceful compromise, but rather encouraged a fight. The two principals advanced and shook hands. "Captain, if I don't see you again, hold me in close recollection, please." . "I will do so, Colonel, and by the way if I should not meet you again, give my regards to all the folks." "Captain, now is your nerve urns morning?" "Might be better, but X think it is strong enough for all practical purposes. How is yours ?" "A trifle wabbly, but some of my best shots have been made .on the dodge." "Take your bases, or rather positions, gentlemen !" cried out one of the seconds. "By the way," he added, "nothing has been said as to the number of shots to be fired." "We are to shoot until one of us falls," the captain answered. "All right, proceed." The combatants were stationed twenty yards apart. They took aim in a cool, dispassionate way. At the command they fired simultaneously. Both men fell. Col. Algernon Hanks now goes about on a wooden leg and Capt. Bob Ball has only one eye. Their life insurance policies have long since expired. The colonel and the captain are now in business together, running a sort of plantation store. The name of the firm, written above the door, is "The Two Fools. Hay, corn, oats, meal, bacon, salt, fish, cheese and goose feathers." Do Not Tamper With Your Body.?Four women, between the ages of fifty and sixty, residing in Brooklyn, who considered their figures too stout for beauty, resolved two years ago to try one of the "systems for reducing fat" given in a newspaper. They were in perfect health at the time. They gave up at once and wholly the use of certain kinds of food to which they had been accustomed since childhood. ' They took each day excessive and unaccustomed exercises, and overstrained their muscles by lifting heavy weights. All this was done without the knowledge of a phy3iciau. The result was unexpectedly successful. During the first fortnight they lost weight rapidly. The decrease in weight was accompanied with a sense of prostration and pain.3 in the limbs,but these things mattered little compared with their joy in the more narrow waists and delicacy of feature. They persevered with their experiment. One is now a victim of nervous prostration ; a second contracted typhoid fever, and after a struggle of weeks for life, died ; the two others have suffer- 4 e<l with rheumatic vout. In each case the physician stated that the weaken-, iug of the tissues by the sudden and complete change of diet had rendered the patients unable to resist disease. Do not tamper with that most wonderfully complex of all machines, your body. When you attempt to change its workings, unless under the directions of a skillful physician, you lay your ignorant hand upon the mainspring of life. "v Indians Versus the Locomotive. "When the Kansas Pacific was first opened," said H. W. Vedder, a locomotive engineer, to a Globe-Democrat reporter, "the Indians were hostile, and there was constant fear that they would wreck the trains. That they did not is due to their ignorance of the iron horse and the best methods of destroying it. One of my firemen had an experience with the Cheyennes that he will never forget. He was on the road near Fort Wallace, when he saw that the Indians had cut the telegraph wire, ami knew that he might look out for squalls. They were never satisfied with simply cutting the wire, but chopped it into inch pieces with their tomahawks to effectually stop the mysterious messages. As the train came near a large patch of sunflowers which grew up on both sides of the track, over one hundred Indians rose up, stretched a strong rope across the track, braced themselves, and prepared to receive the shock of the locomotive. As was afterwards 'learned, they had taken raw-hide strips, braided them together, and with a force of fifty at each end of the rope, thought that they would be able to stop the train. The instant the'locomotive struck the I rope the air was full of Indians. They J were thrown in all directions. Some wen- ierked clear across the train, and I o j more than a dozen were killed or severely injured. This was the last attempt made for \ears to stop the trains." A Word to Votm; Men.?A physician writes to young men as follows : My profession has thrown me among women of all classes, ami my experience teaches me that the Creator never gave man a greater proof of his love than to place woman here with him. My advice is: (fo and propose to the most sensible girl you know. If she accepts you, tell her how much your income is. and from what source derived, and tell her that you will divide the last shilling with her, and that you will love her with all your heart iuto the bargain : and then keep your promise. My word for it, she will live within your income, and to your last hour you will regret that you did not marry sooner. Stop worrying about feminine extravigauce and feminine untruth. Just you be true to her. love her sincerely, and a more fond, faithful, foolish slave you will never meet anywhere. You will not deserve her, I know, but she will never know it." It is reported that in the past fifteen months seventy-one thousand negroes lmvelelt North Carolina.