Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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" ' __ ' - ' ^^ ??? ^ ^1 1 lewis m. grist, Proprietor. J gui Jndepcndt;nt Jamils Jfeicspaper: the promotion of the fditiqal, Social, ;fugi;iciiltaipl and dfonimerrinl Jntercfite of the $outh. j TERMS?$2.00 A TEAR IN ADVANCE. "VOL. 37. ~~ YOEKVILLE, 8. C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18, 1891. NO. 6. I ?/v*a*v ia o-ricro.nt nnrl ?n I r j <V,11??,S??. ffiA pWtJnn. tha CREOLE AN BY T. e. Author of "Four Yonrs Ir "Cross 1 DEDICATED TO HON. HENRY WATTERSOI UNFOROOTTEN, AS OUR SHADOWS [Copyright, 1890, by J. B. Lippiucott Coi ment wi SYNOPSIS OF PART H-IN THE SOUTH. Chaftkb 1.?In New Orleans; 1806; the first carnival week since thejwar. Dale la a Federal general; Adrlen has been a Confederate major general. They are both In the city. Chaftkb 2.?Dale calls on Mme. d'Auvlgne, Latour's grandmother. Latour, In disguise, . visits Mme. Latour. Chaftkb S.?Dale enters the International race the day before the carnival, riding for the United States. Ch>ptkb 4.?The race is exciting and well ridden. Dale wins. Chaftkb A?The carnival. PAST II?CHAPTER VL ORDEAL BY COMBAT. Jutl OiI the trormin fi ^'cU tetvoeton them, in a dead faint. The crowds of maskers were thinning as a tall figure in gray domino paused at the gate of a brick walled garden. Putting his passkey in the lode he glanced up the street, waiting the approach of a Pierrot. The latter came up, with none of the frolic mien his garb suggested, and waited to be questioned. "It seems you rather exceed the license of the carnival," the domino said quietly. "This is the third time you have thrown yourself in my way, and now you dog me home. Do you know me?" "Beyond a doubt," the Pierrot answered, in the squeak of his character. "You are the Federal Gen. Everett" With a gesture of impatience Dale threw off his disguise. "You seek me," he said shortly. "What is your business?" "Admit me into your garden and you shall have it You are afraid of nothing," he added, as Everett hesitated, "but I may add that the danger is only to myself." Everett threw open the little gate, stooped to fasten the latch inside, and j as he raised his eyes the dark, glowing j pupils of Adrien Latour burned into i them. "Dale!" "Adrien!" And they were in each other's arms. For them at that instant there had been no war, no suffer- | ings, no victories. They were boys once > more by the banks of the far rolling Hudson. * "Dale, old boy," the Creole said after ; a pause, "madame told me all, and I felt I must see you once more. I shadowed your camp, but you were so busy train- ! ing I guessed you were to ride, though I ' never could catch you alone."' "I felt some strange magnetism," Everett broke in, "when yon startled my mare last Sunday, though I could not analyze it Ah, you dear old fellow!" The strong arm crossed the other's shoulder as the two men sat on a low bench under a flowering orange tree. "It seems too good to be true, Adrien, to have you back again." "It seems so to me, Dale, after all 1 [ have been through. But I must not let you compromise your ideas of duty. I j am still a rebel. I believe I am dogged j by spies. If I am recognized, presto! j your provost marshal!" a rm 2 ? U "nonsenaei xue war 10 urcx, mcniH ; answered cheerily. "You are perfectly j safe to return to madame and the old home. Not as my friend, but as my late foe, 1 offer you unconditional parole." "You cannot understand my feelings," the other said sadly, turning his face aside. "As victor you can afford to be generous. But Dale, I fled- to Mexico because 1 would not take the eath to the government that had beaten me. We made the election of ordeal by combat, and I accept the verdict in honor and in candor. But I cannot.take the oath." "No argument need ever come between you and me," Everett answered frankly. "I think I understand your feelings; I certainly respect them. You need take no oath. Your simple parole is all that shall be asked." The Creole again shook his head sadly. "I cannot ask protection of the government I tried to overturn," he replied. "To-morrow at dawn a smuggler slips out for Cuba. While the bells call you to church I shall be on my way to voluntary exile." "But, Adrien, this is folly." "Very like," La tour answered, with something of his old smile. "I always did talk wisdom and act folly. But, dear old boy, I cannot do it Better enter some foreign service, where my sword can buy me place." "This is mawkish sentiment," Everett replied seriously. "It is neither reasonable nor manly, apsides, remember your words to me before you resigned?that our old school did not educate Hessians! i Aha! you remember? Yet you will sell j your sword to some cause where your heart is not, purely from bitterness and pique!" "You wrong me, Dale," the other answered gently. "I have no pique, and I know the true soldier accepts the turn of battle. God knows there is no bitterness in my heart for those who fought for what they believed the right! I honor them all?love as well as ever those I loved before." "And can you imagine we respect you who took nn arms believine von were right?" "I do not," La tour answered frankly. "You could not Had I dreamed that would I have risked this dress, however 1 had yearned to take your hand before I sailed? No, not Politicians can break up governments, Dale, but not friendships like ours." "Then why leave your country?" Again the. Creole turned away his face, though he held firmly the hand in hia "I have no country now," he answered firmly. . "It is not your fault, but the iron heel grinds upon us all. God alone knows when it may be lifted?what may be left when it shall bet Ah, Dale, you remember the German's poem, 'None but the freeman hath a fatherland t*" ' You are the same oldAdrien," Dale answered regretfully; "gentle as a woman in your loves, obstinate as a broncho in going your own way; but what of your life all these years?' Then, under the oranges whose perfume struggled with the sweet olive for the mastery, each told his story; and as they talked, heedless of time, the moon rose, bright as daylight, and frolic songs of maskers were borne to them on the soft night wind. At length, after a pause, Dale Everett laid his hand on his friend's shoulder, his voice Boftening as he asked: "And in all these years have you never loved again?' La tour sprung to his feet, took a rapid turn under the trees, then turned and stopped in the deep shadow. "Loved again?' he repeated scofflngly. "Why, man, a dozen times! I have sworn the lips that were nearest were the lips that vrere dearest! I have cast off the black eyes only to tire of the blue" "Stop! You are not speaking honestly," Everett's voice was cold and stern. L D PURITAN. r>e LEON, i Rebel Capital**," " Tuny," Purpose**." J, IN MEMORY OF SCHOOLBOY DAYS, STILL LENGTHEN TOWARD THE SUNSET. tnpany, ami published by special isrrangeth them.] *? ' "I still believe the brother of my boyhood a true man, and such do not forget lightly." There was a long pause. Thought in the brain of each peopled the tdlenoe with memoried shapes too fast to admit of words. Everett spoke first?hurriedly, as though the words cost him an effort and he would be rid of them: "Adrien, Beverly Mason died four years ago?a singular death, on the anniversary of his wedding day almost to the hour. He was found in his chair, a candle lighted on the desk by his side and a charred paper on the salvW by it Heart trouble, the doctors said." The ? ? ? nvtil UA tttAW^ /m Buencu was UUUIU&CU auu UJO wcuv vu slowly, "One tiny scrap only of that pa* per was unconstimed, and, Adrien, that scrap bore your name!" The Creole still stood silent, but his thin lips closed tighter under his mustache, and the haggard look on his dark face sorted but ill with the mountebank garb. At last he spoke calmly, but with great effort: "Dale, if you value our friendship never speak of this again. That woman's name has been blotted from ray brain since the night she sold herself! It shall never cross my lips again, so help me God!" He raised his hand in the moonlight as Everett turned away and cried: "How she sold herself you have never dreamed!" Then silence again fell between them. Adrien's face was dark and set. Over Dale Everett's emotions played and flick- : ered like clouds across the moca's, tern- ; pering, not hiding, the great light of ! pity that shone upon his friend as he j thought: "Dare I tell him?now?" At length La tour turned and asked, not in raillery, but in interest"And?you?" "I have and do," Dale answered. "No, do not start; I am not married. But one woman is far more to me than wife could ever be! I am true to her as though the sacrament had made us one; my highest happiness to make her the. pride, the envy of all other women I" "You!" The Creole stared at his friend. "You waste your life for a woman!" "No, not waste it," Everett answered gently. "But I do all this?for lover There was silence. Busy thought in : Everett's brain was again shadowing j the face he raised to the moonlight La- I tour kept his bent in the shadow of the | orange tree. Suddenly Dale started up, mattering : to himself, "There is one way only!" Then he turned to La tour. "Wait!" he ! said quickly. "You shall see' my excuse!" * Hastily drawing the domino over his uniform the Federal general passed into the street And as he went on rapidly he repeated: "Even that may fail, bat it is the only hope." Left alone Latonr paced the garden, laughing bitterly to himself. "He, too! Dale Everett the plaything of a woman!" he thought aloud. "And bled so, too! Well, we are all fools for them, each in his own way! I sm bi.ter enough, God knows! yet I can never part with this!" He drew from his breast a woman's glove, white once, and delicate, but soib ed and worn now. Dropping heavily upon the bench he looked upon the glove bug and dreamily. The hard glint faded out of his eyes; the better nature lit them softly as he murmured: "Six years ago I stole this from her wedding! And through toil and danger and death this toy has lain on my heart! Even now it wipes out all between and carries me back to the cottage on the river?before she lied at the altar and I lied when 1 cursed her!" The proud head drooped in deep and : motionless reverie, the little glove still j held in the battle browned but delicate | hand. So deep was the man's thought that he ! * - _ ? *? jl\_ _ : neara notmng 01 an opening uoor on uio : gallery behind him, of a woman's step upon the walk, or the rustling of her : train on the fallen orange leaves. He did not even hear her laugh, so low and musical it almost seemed to melt into moonlight, as she regarded him, around the tree against which he leaned. Developed in the fullest splendor of 1 womanhood, Bhe was still lithe and graceful enough for girlhood, the perfect neck and rounded arms glittering with diamonds, and the wholo toilet?a : Pompadour costume?combining costliness and taste. A satin half mask, with lace fall, hid the face, but through it two bright eyes peered curiously at the I dress of the figure before her, half hidden in the shadow. Then she advanced on tiptoe, saying to herself: "So this is our general's excuse for j delay t I must be hours late at the balls, while he plays mountebank among the people. Di done, Monsieur Pierrot!" She spoke the last words aloud, and [ again laughed softly; but Adiien Latour | did not look up. He started vaguely, as I though the laugh were an echo of his own memories, now far away by the fast rolling river of the north. She i laughed again softly behind her mask. j "Come, Dale," she said, "give me credit, and I'll offer two pennies for the thoughts? Merciful heaven!" The rich satin draperies crumpled back against the tree, and the little ! hands clinched tightly over the heaving j bust For, at the first words he heard, the Creole had stooped forward, thrust : the soiled glove into his breast, and then I turned full to the speaker. Now he looked with half sorrowful, half curious air upon the startled, palpitating form J ; before him. "So this is Dale's expensive toy!" he [muttered. "Truly he pays well for it in silks and diamonds! Confound the jade! ! I'm sorry she caught me mooning, though. I wonder if she saw." j In a husky voice, forced out of her in , half gasps, the woman answered his i thought in two words: "That glove!" Hardly recking to what manner of ; woman lie spoke, and more in mockery of himself than of her, Latour replied: "The glove? Oh, that is only a souvenir of one man's idiocy, of one woman's sin, long years ago." ! "Where?" The woman's voice was i lower than before. "Where you have never been, pretty i Creole," he answered, all the lightness ! in the words, none in the voice. "On the cold banks of a northern river, where one woman's one act killed *he future of ! two men and her own hono as well!" A quick gesture tore av ay the satin : mask, and Bennie Standis i raised her , head haughtily to the speaker. There was small reminder of the pert girl of the past in that proud pose of head and j | stern compression of lip; and the man, : : never changing liis attitude of easy grace, gazed at her with a dumb horror freez; ing his eyes. Then out of his face fell every drop of blood, leaving it blanched and sallow, j But its lines grew hard, and the bloodless lips set in a straight cruel line. Still he moved no muscle; only tho eyes dii lated and glowed with evil fire. Equally motionless was the woman; but she regarded him half in sorrow, half in anger. When at last she spoke : the voice had only coldness in it, neither menace nor entreaty. "Aclrien Latonr, the last time you saw that woman it was to insult her. Do not let six years' malice prompt yon now to slander her!" "Slander?you! How could I?" There was infinity of scorn in the man's tone, but even through that struggled surprise. Bennie Standish advanced one step toward him. "Those days were so long ago," she said more gently. "Even then you never dreamed all I suffered. Since, we both have suffered more. Let us forgive at least, even if neither can forget." She held out the dainty, diamond covered hand. He seemed not to see it, yet the flash of the moonlight on the stones made him shudder. "Oh, God!" he groaned, in bitterness of soul, "this cursed war has passed over our country like a blight It has dried up the springs of honor in men, poisoned the founts of purity in women!" Then, as though in mockery of the strong man's agony, a snatch of merry song, with glad refrain of laughter, broke on the night air, floating to those two under the orange trees. If Latour heard it his face underwent no change. But a flood of pitying memories swept over the woman's, leaving it very gentle, as she said: "Have time and memory made you only more bitter?" "Bitter? I am scarcely just!" he said, in a dry, hard voice, more to himself than in reply to her. For a second he looked full in her eyes, his own glinting with cruel, steely glitter. Through set teeth, with effort to speak calmly, he added: "That day 1 told you that you sold yourself. It was only your body then; now it is body and soul!" For some seconds the woman stared at him in dumb wonderment. Suddenly she recoiled as if he had struck her with his fist; surprise, horror and contempt sweeping over her face. She dropped her eyes, but held out her hands to him, entreating piteously: "Adrien, you must hear" He broke in almost brutally. "Go! Go at once!" he cried hoarsely, "or you will force me to do what I never feared before?insult a woman!" There was no mistaking the tone, even had the mere words been less plain. Instantly her face changed. The hard, proud look rose to it and set there. Without another glance at him Adrien Latour's old love turned her back upon him and, drawing her rich laces about her, passed under the orange trees out of his sight And again the mocking maskers' cho rua, ringing ont upon the night, was borne, meaningless yet jarring, to his stnnned sense. For a fall minute he stood still as thoagh carven stone. Then he dropped upon the seat, the proad head buried in his hands, with the wrong cry: "Fallen! and through him!" For minutes, that might have been hours for anght he knew, the still moonlight flooded the motionless figure. Then the 6treet gate opened again, and Dale Everett, followed by his two aids, re-entered the garden. Passing straight to Latour he dropped his hand upon his shoulder as he began: "I just missed her. Arnold says she" At the tonch the Creole had sprung to his feet, his face full in the moonlight. Something in that face cut off speech as a thunderclap might It was marble calm, but the set lipe and the ugly gleam in the eyes there was no mistaking. The cold steel ring in t&e voice nullified the excess of courtly polish in manner, as La tour said: "Pardon! but you have been at too much pains to amuse me. And truly your new carnival does show strange sights?" "What do you mean?" Dale asked wondering. "It unmasks characters, while it masks faoee," the other went on coldly. "It teaches that in your service, Gen. Everett, a man may rise to his brigade and yet be a?scoundrel!" The quietly whispered word fell so distinct and clear that Everett recoiled as though he had stung him. "You say?that!" he exclaimed in surprise, almost breathless. The Creole drew one step nearer. An ugly smile twisted his lips, that scarcely moved, as he whispered: "You shall fight me?here?nowl l have used one word; do not force me to use another?coward!" For a single instant Everett's right hand clinched, his arm half raised, as his brow grew black and knotted. The next, the arm fell, the hand unclosed; but the teeth were set through which he forced the words: "Had another Bpoken either word, I had stretched him there! From the brother of my boyhood I must better understand" "Do you understand?that?" With the quickness of light, Adrien had drawn the torn glove from his breast and passed it sharply over the other's face. But, vivid as was the motion, Dale had seized his wrist in a grip of steel and held it motionless. While one might count five seconds no sound, no movement, was made. Then Everett softly loosened his grasp and dropped his hands. His face bore no trace of anger, his voice only a solemn pity, as he said: "Adrien Latour, you have put blood between us. Why, God alone can tell. May he pardon you in your madness!" Dale Everett had no bigotry. As a soldier he used the soldier's weapon, and if he condemned ho followed the tenet of the school he was reared in. Five minutes sufficed for preparation. Neither the general's humor nor his rank brooked question. The two aids acted as seconds; their sabers went into the opponents' hands. "Capt. Arnold, you will act for Gen. Latour," Dale had said, as calmly as if he gave the aid an order to form parade. "We prefer this matter kept t?x-t :?i- m i.i T ftDSOiuteiy private. ouuutu x tuauuu iu be hurt, remember, Gren. Latour is to be passed by you, masked, by all sentinels. We are ready." While ho spoko Everett had thrown off his uniform coat and vest and cast his hat on the ground. Baring his arm above the elbow, ho took his saber from the young captain and stood still. Latour tore off his mountebank's jacket, stripped the sleeve of his'army shirt from a brown, sinewy ann, and took his sword from Arnold. Then, in the calm moonlight sifted through the oranges, the friends of boyhood looked into each other's eyes as men look when they kilL The even skill, that years gone had been the wonder of West Point, was now to have its deadly test. The sabers crossed, shivered the moonlight into silvery spray, from feint and thrust aud parry. And the giddy song of the maskers, nearer and more gay, swelled in the chorus of a wild scream, as Bennie Standish flew from the distant shadows toward the combatants. At the same instant, Everett's saber? made by contract for other work than this?shivered at the hilt, flying ten yards away. Before the fragment touched the ground, the Creole had stepped back one pace aud grounded his point, just as the terrified woman fell between them in a dead faint. For an instant Latour stood like a 6tatue. Then he said to Capt. Arnold: "The general does not demand another 6word. His lifo is his. Please say to your commander, captain, that if he desires to have the rebel arrested he must do so before the dawn. For your sendee to me, thanks!" Dale answered nothing?seemed to hear nothing. He was bending over the prostrate woman as tenderly as though no deadly combat had over known him. ! With a courteous salute to the young captains Adrien Latour put on his hid eons mask and passed ?rom~?h6 garden into the shadows of the street. PAET m?OTDEB SHADOW OF THE SPHINX. CHAPTER L OLD FRIENDS IN NEW PLACES. Latour started forward and grasped lord Martindale's hand. One of those delicious December afterj noons, only dreamed of elsewhere, but ! common under Egyptian skies, was set; tling down over Cairo. Warm, soft and hazy as the "Indian summer" of America, the day was dropt- ! I ping half relnotant in the lap of night, j The red globe of tho sun hung low over | the distant desert across the Nile, its j ever shifting sand waves motionless I now, under the light breeze, and the ro' freshing moisture of night beginning al; ready to creep into the air. I Far to the southward showed the dimi ming line of the Mokattam hills, while away toward sunset rose the tall con<*s of the pyramids; the Sphinx a grave and silent sentinel thrown forward in a<ll vance. Between them and the city fhe j immemorial Nile sent her current raci ing to the sea, low now and curving like ! ? o!lm. oaminf WnrAfin rotTBatiniy hAnln) C* OUTCA ovft|a/UV krv v ti wvu v ,. . , fringed with tall topped palm trees and ; dotted with splendid palaces, i Within the city sights and sounds bej gan to make themselves known which ! ever shun the day in this strange land; ! for duy is dnll and still in Egypt to all i save those unfortunates whom need and j toil call into activity; and there, by the j fiat of climate, only night lives. Central in El-Kehirah, the victorious I city, is the great groved public i>ark, i covering several acres and known as the j Ezbekieh. Ancient?for what is young i in this land which makes Antiquity herI self look new??and unique, too, this j common breathing place of all the mixjd ! races combines the gayety of the Boise j de Boulogne with the chaffering of the J Bowery. About this great open park I group the principal hotels and many i residences of the better class of Euroj pean population, occasional palaces rearj ing their lofty domes among them, i Over one of these last, at the gateway j of which an armed soldier walked his j post, in place of the usual bowab or ! porter floated the crescent flag of the j Sublime Porte; for the semi-sovereignty | of Egypt, under the firman granting its | powers, is permitted no separate flag. In its spacious court yard and garden was stabling and grooming space for a cavalry detachment, the lower range of rooms being used for offices and barracks. In the main apartment above, stretched i upon a divan and enjoying the long, I deep whiffs from his nargileh, reclined ; an officer of the array of the Khedive | Ismail Pasha, for that luxurious grand: son of a warrior ggandsire?Mehemet | Ali, "the Lion of Islam"?now held the j reins of a government almost independent of Stamboul. This soldier's lithe I but powerful frame was half hidden in | the full folds of pajamas of India silk, j but the languid poso and femininity of | dress were negatived by the clear, strong i lines of a face out of which flashed black | eyes, restless and defiant even in his j reverie. The thick, 6hort black hair, ; touched with white about the temples, j proclaimed him a Christian, spite of th6 red fez lying near upon the cushion, and | the features were those of a Frank, I though their swarthy olive denied his I being Ingleeze. Even an old acquaintance might have ! needed a Becond glance to recognize in i Latour Bey the Creole youth so famed i for manly prowess at West Point a decj ade gone Yet Time had set no special i pressure of his signet on him, spite of j the light snow round his brow and the i stray white threads marking the droop; ing mustache. The change was that ' nameless something which indurates 1 characteristics, impressing the inner ! upon the outer man; that something i which whispers, even through casual ex| pression and movement, that the man : has lived. j His head resting on hands locked be; hind it, Adrien Latour gazecl through j the western casement long and without i motion, but his eyes?in which the light flickered, glowed and died in turn?held little of the level landscape there. But whatever his eyes 6aw they came back promptly as the curtain, everre| placing doors in eastern houses, was raised and the tall, lank form of an orderly entered, saluted and stood at "At! tention!" like a statue. The man was a j Syrian, gaunt as a greyhound and as i deep chested, and his eyes and position i as he waited would have challenged score from the keenest judge of compeI titive drill. For three years had given the Creole soldier time to bring the Egyptian i cavalry anu into discipline equal to its j former efficiency, and nothing of a martinet, he had yet taught his troop com; manders that the faults of subalterns and men would be visited on them. On leaving homo ? forever, as he thought?Latour "had been among the first Cenfederate officers to accept the offer of service made by Ismail soon j after his succession to liis uncle, Said I Paslia, in 18G4. His keen soldiership ! and strong personal traits had early j made him a favorito with the vacillating viceroy, who, by taste and education more a Frenchman than a Turk, ever had a weakness for the Frangi not pleasing to his i>eople. But La tour's good work in the council and the field had i proved the wisdom of his choice for the ! high rank of colonel, and the campaign | in Abyssinia earned the brevet of bey, i the khedive not being permitted under I the finnan to give the rank of general. I "Well, orderly?" the colonel said, in j Arabic. The man stepped forward and presented a letter in long official envelope. The only thing about it un-English was the Turkish signet in a great splay of black wax. It was very brief, slating j from the minister of war, the court be ing then at Alexandria, that British vis- j itors of great consideration and largely interested in the Suez canid would at [ once visit the capital, and that his high- I ness desired every courtesy shown them j by the ranking officer thon at Cairo. "Peki! Oa!" he Baid to tho orderly in j Arabic; the man saluting, making tho rightabout and disappearing liko an j automaton. "More of theso cursed English!" La- ! tour added to himself in French, as he | rose and strode about tho room. "More ' boredom with titled donkeys, all whis- j kers and eyeglass, and frowsy old red i faced dowagers! Notn du (liable! why ! cannot his highness keep them within tho light of his own face! It is bad j enough to command his black soldiers 1 and train his infidel officers! Not much I better than if I had taken the oath and j applied for a nigger regiment! But this : bear leading for John Bull is worse! I'd J rather, ten to one, have tho Sheik Abou- j Ali refuse to pay the tribute, and be I sent to squeeze it out of his black hide. I Ah! Ahmed's escort back? Perhaps I may!" With a smile at his own warmth over a trifle the Creole changed his mood, ; walking calmly to the window that overlooked the court below. The clatter of hoofs and challenge of the guard, had died away; and he saw a handsome young officer dismount, give sn order to his sergeant and, as the troopers-of the escort rode off, disappear under the portal. The next instant, preoeded by the orderly, he entered the chaml>er and sa- ; luted. "Well,, captain," Latour queried in ! French, "what did theaheik answer?" 1 "Literally notldng, colonel," the other ! answered in the same tongue. "We i smoked many pipes and drank much | vile coffee, under his tents at Miuieh, i and we also paid many compliments, j Sheik Abon-Ali spoke most loyally jof | his highness; bat 1 could, only induce | him to promise to send a tins ted. messenger of his own to Cairo with a letter regarding the tribnte." Captain Ahmed Mustafa was a high Turk of influential family., young, talented and soldierly. One oil the young Egyptians sent to Europe by Said Pasha for education, his tastes were Parisian rather than oriental. Be was La tour's adjutant, and more nearly his friend than any native offloer. "But you know tbaAv^rato, colonel," Ahmed added. "From our conference I have no idea that the sheik will pay the tribute." "Then we will doubt less be sent to bring it," Latour answered. "It will be j a pleasant change from garrison routine, | captain. But you have a hard ride, and ; need food and rest." As the younger soldier saluted, about i to turn away, the sharp note of the bugle ! rang out clear in stable call, floating , fainter from across the river at the cav- ; airy barracks. "By the way, captain," Latour added, "order the officer in charge of evening Btables to report the number and condi- : tion of the extra mounts. His highness | sends a fresh squadron of beefeaters to | be furnished wi th horses. That is all." As the other 'disappeared, Latour clap- j ped liis hands to summon his Arab servant, soon donning his brilliant, gold in- ; crusted uniform of the staff. For Ismail j Pasba delighted to load his officers with I more gold and color than most of them j could carry gracefully. Scarcely was the military toilet complete when the clang of the sentry's [ musket sounded from the court, followed by his call for the sergeant of the guard. Almost immediately heavy feet hurried np the stairs, and the orderly appeared, almost brushed aside by the close following visitor. He was a burly six footer, red J.'aced and mth long flowing yellow whiskers. A huge veil turbaned his linen helmet, and black straps crossed and recrossed the broad chest that seemed struggling to escape from his wax fitting cutaway of dingy plaid twe<Hl. "Delighted, my dear boy! delighted, really!" he cried heartily. "Didn't have an idea, you know, till they told me at the Hotel d'Orient. Knew you were in Egypt, my dear Latour, but hikdn't gueased our good luck!?hadn't, 'pon I o T - .1.. ^*11 Ka ,1a. tUULl-Jr; AMHiy iuai Hiiuoiu will uo u?lighted, as I am, really!" Iatour started forward and grasped Lord Martindale's hand warmly. "I am equally charmed," he said cordially. "How this does bring back old times! Why, I was a cadet, my lord, the last time we met; and Lady Martindale is with yon? A double pleasure." Throwing himself on a divan, the Englishroan ran on about the boredom of travel, Lady Edith's insatiable desire for change, his interest in Suez canal mattern and the extreme courtesy ol! the Khjdive Ismail. Meanwhile he drank all the coffee and smoked all the pipes steadily provided by the diligent chiborique-ghi of the host. Iatour listened courteously with his ears, but not with his brain. That was filled with confusion of memories conjured up by this sudden visit. He heard the rush of the Hudson as he walked rotmd "Flirtation," the swirl of the riding school and the "sound off" of the band at dress parade. But the voice that spoke softly to him, the eyes that looked approval from the gallery, the hand that waved "Au revoir!" from the plain were ? i ti _ f TUltl. IT not anotners, our inoee or rxiun van der Huyscn! That rich, dark face, with its mobile features; those sensitive lips, parting in rare smiles over perfect teeth; those marvelous eyes, that deepened from brown to black as they looked into his? all seemed things of yesterday. For, in the four past years, active work in new scenes and ibsolute sever- i ance from anything Amer can had greatly changed the Creole. Living absolutely in the present, cureless of the future and forgetful of the past, the influences of climate and surrounding had told unconsciously upon liim, and if not actually a fatalist in theory, he took quite kindly to the practice. Time, the consoler, had done his work fairly well; and Latour had either forgotten the old wound, or had ceased to feel it pain him. One's tastes change over with the years; and a -decade of them in war, ! travel and hard work, had had their ef- j feet in casting into obli non the early j episodes of Latour's life. And now, if j tliess came up as a mist, shutting out the burly Briton from his sight, the i voicB that sounded tlirough it was the i low, thrilling contrjilto of Edith Van der Htivsen. and the eves that empha- j sized the voice were those deep, lumi- j nous ones he had looked into, without J understanding, so many an hour of his 1 "eniiampment year." Bat suddenly returning to Egypt from ! his lightning backward trip to the Bud- j son, Latour heard tlio Englishman any- i ing: "So I told her I'd beat up your quar- | ters myself, sans facon, and bring you ' over to dine, you know. No duty, I i hope?" "None, fortunately," Latour replied ! quickly. "Only one order to scribble, ! and I am yours." He took up a tablet and wrote hastily ! in French: "Captain?Countermand request for i report on extra mounts. Horses will j not be needed. "Latour-Bey, Colonel." i He clapped his hands. "This to Capt. i Ahmed Mustafa," he said iu Arabic; j then, turning to Lord Martindale, ho ; added: "Now, my lord, I am yours." And j as the burly form of tho other preceded 1 him under the portiere he muttered to ; himself: "What echo to my reverie! Is it-- i kismet?" FART HI?CHAPTER II. TDK RIDDLE OP TIIE AGES. /f(! i And now they sat alone. MV?w? +Vi(i? n Tt-r-ulr lirul rvLftUPil ninr-0 tllO sadden advent of the Martindales at Cairo, each day of it filled with that unique sightseeing possible only in the land of tlio Pharaohs. They were already familiar with the suburbs of Boulak and Musr el-Aatik?the old musr, or capital?and expeditions had been made to all points of interest farther off, always on horseback when practicable. For Edith was a superb horsewoman, and the usually particular cavalry inspector had promptly placed the choice of hie stables at their disposition. One exception he made, in disfavor of Lord Martindale's man, a bulky cockney who rodo fourteen stone ten, and so badly at that as to handicap his horse twenty pounds additional. So Harris was relegated to the heaviest brute iu all the regimental stud. Edith had grown more intimate with the face of the Nile than she was with the dirtier one of the Thames. She had several times crossed its bend to visit Gizehin the long, flat ferryboats propelled by strong, yellow arms at the sweeps when wind failed the great yellow lateen sails. She had picnicked amid the ruins of old Memphis, and in a light | caique had inspected the gleaming marbles of Rhoda island and its ragged Nilometer, that index finger of eldest hydrography. The English party had religiously clambered over the chin high base tiers of the Great Pyramid, climbing its two hundred and three steps before lunch time; and daring the passage to the "king's chamber," when fortified by bitter beer to better resist its mingled stuffiness of potted Rameses and living Arab guide. And here, as in many other rambles, a valuable adjunct to the party was the English physician, Sir Roger Arn;rife, a long resident in Cairo, whoso Bkill had won the confidence of the khedive beyond that of any native hakeem, and whom the ioreign coiony qnue iaoiized.. One whole morning was devoted to the Sphinx. Sir Roger had given mnch valuable information about the grand colossus of Gizeh, hewn mostly from the solid spar rock, some hundred paces eastward of tho second Pyramid. He had taken part in the excavations at the front to which the party had descended. Edith seemed deeply impressed with the giant proportions of the statue?looking upward, as they stood between the fore paws of masonry which make its total length gome hundred and seventy-two fe^t, the great head rearing fifty-six feet over them. "How majestic she looks!" she exclaimed with a half sigh. "So you insist.on the female theory?" Sir Roger asked with a smile. "Certainly I do," she answered earnestly. "I am sure she is the embodiment of the earliest legend of the name ?of the wickedness of woman and her punishment." "Oh, very well," the old surgeon laughed back. "Then we'll dismiss the broken beard theory, or change it into the bow of her ladyship's nightcap. It is useless to argue with one woman about her views of another?especially when one is thirsty." And he moved off to where Lord Martindale stood, with his back to them and the statue, deep in contemplation of the immediate present as represented by the Bass ale and potted meats Harris was carefully transferring from a hamper to the slab that perhaps held down the ashes of a long dead king. "And how calm the grand face is, though seamed by ages!" the woman added. "She looks as thongh her memories of the past cannot be broken by the littleness of the present And such a present!" The tone of the last words made Latour's glance follow hers toward Lord Martindale. Then it sought her eyes, to find in them a restless contempt, seen once or twice before, but always dismissed as figment of his own imagination. But as her eyes met his the light in them grew softer, and again she raised them to the towering head above them. "And those deep lines may mean either suffering or thought," she added. "'They probably mean age in part," Intour answered, smiling. "But in lai-ger part they meap that your adopted countrymen are only vandals, in plaid cutaways, who have despoiled -her majesisy'B countenance for souvenirs before avnannHnn anarprl if And in nart. tOO. the tears are blows from lances of the Bedouins. The followers of the prophet, in the pure simplicity of their faith, revile those images and symbols of materiality which their cousins of Rome and Oxford and Hindoostan bow down before. They show their contempt by blows as well as words; though I grieve to dispel your more poetic view." "Then all the grander that calm upon the face which insult even cannot break!" The exclamation had more the resonance of a thought inborn than the sound of casual criticism; and again Latour saw the dark face turned from the Sphinx toward the men about the luuch. "This Sphinx has always been to me the most interesting of all the monuments," he said, turning again. "Whether king, or queen, or god, the diverse theories leave me understanding her origin and purpose less than any of them. Ehe puzzles me, even as she seems to taave puzzled the ancients." "Naturally. She is a woman of stone," Edith answered. "Even woman of flesh has been the riddle of the ages!" "Perhaps," he answered. "And this statue is typical. The tablets in her breast may symbolize those illegible things every woman hides in her own bosom" "And which are not comprehended even when shown to man," she broke in quickly. "Yet, as shown in the statue here, those very mysteries may form her holiest chapel, in which her better self does sacrifice higher than was ever burned upon that altar in the lion's paws." "Then you would imply," the man rejoined quickly, "that the popular early myth of the Sphinx must have been 'woven by some woman; that the death of him who guessed not ner names was just punishment for his lack of comprehending that incomprehensible thing?a woman's heart." His eyes were glowing upon her face; hers were far away beyond tho desert sands. But tho features softened, as did tho low, rich voice that said?he know not whether to herself or him: "And yet CEdipus came at last to her. It must bo so over if CEdipus will only dare tho test. 'Tis his lack of courage, not her inscrutability, that leaves womanbe she stono or flesh?the riddle of tho ages I" Then into tho philosophy of the enig inaed past crushed the ruthless realism of tho present. The cockney groom approached and said: "Wud ye' leddyship 'ave me pull tho hale now?" And waving his hand across tho improvised table over the possible Ptolemy Lord Martindale's voice rang cheerily: ' Come to luncheon. These bloaters are worth a dozen dead Pharaohs, you know." Without reply Edith moved toward the others. But Latour saw her lip curl strangely as her eyes rested upon her husband. The next moment they glanced into his, a strange, deep glow in them, as she almost whispered: "You see, my CEdipus has not yet come!" That night they all visited the Ezbekieh; and it was really within the walls of Cairo that the woman of tho party fouml most to interest her. Tho palaces, i the mosques, with their marvelous minarets, the bazars, with their sleepy seeming but shrewd traffic, all pleased her with their novelty. But it was tho shifting kaleidoscope of faco und dress and habit through which tho orientality of tho land mast impressed her, and night on tho Ezbekieh always charmed her. Truly tho Cairo dear to tho artist and tho poet is fjist fading, like a mirage; tho Cairo dear to tho British tourist flourishes liko a green oasis against the gray past. He who, with Hope's Anaj stasias, "goes tliero expecting, if not an earthly, at least an aquatio paradise, j finds filth and ruin on the outside and i filth and misery within." I But none of this obtrudes itself upon the Ezbekieh, whore Edith sat that night. Latour again beside her, as had grown to be a certainty now. Blase as he was with sightseeing, and more disgusted with the average English speaking tourist, ho now proved a most complaisant cicerone, never tiringin explanation, and each day suggesting some new jaunt for the one succeeding. And really good excuse he had, for no ordinary sightseer had Lady Martin dale approved herself. Her quick intelligence, extensive reading and ready wit he remembered as posing him often in J-i. .* -1 J i.1.- L cuut)L uaya, uuu uuw, uittbuiouf vuvjr uuw only lightened the toilsome round of show places, hnt even invested them with fresh motives for thought Whether he recognized the glamour of this unwonted contact he surely felt its charm, and without analyzing he yielded to it unquestioning. And now they sat alone, Lord Martindale and Sir Roger having strolled off, deep in the Suez canal affairs with a prominent British banker from Alexandria. About the beautiful park, with its tall, waving palm trees, its acacias and shrubs, lush in growth and rich in hues, gathered groups as varied and as picturesque as the world can show. Greeks, Armenians and Copts, differing in dress and pdrt, mingled with grave, sedate Turks and stolid faced Arabs, sinewy and bare of limb. Here and there Jews in their oriental garb moved quietly among Syrians and native fellaheen; while stiffly uniformed regulars of the khedive's army strolled around with picturesque Arnaouts, the white, full skirts beneath their braided jackets tightly bound by the sash ever ornamented with the double rows of pistols. Nearer, around the principle cafe, the | groups were European, yet varying in i style and dress?Italian, Greek and | French merchants' families, dotted with occasional Americans, mostly of the nouveaux riches, and a goodly sprinkling of unmistakable English; and for the delectation of this group the garrison band performed at intervals the national airs of all nations. Over the whole scene babeled the hum , of many voices, cut by the cries of the : venders of refreshments, and bv an occa | sional laugh, invariably coming from j the foreign groups. For your oriental is sedate and seldom j yields to merriment of any sort, a smile being unusual and a laugh considered | indecorous. Lady Martindale had been silent longer , than her wont Suddenly she looked up ! at Latour and said: "Does not this carry you home?" "Scarcely," he replied, with a laugh. I "Were I asked to name the spot I had j seen most un-American I should say the I Ezbekieh." "Not American, perhaps," Edith an! swered, "but Creole. Two years ago j Martindale and I were in New Orleans ' at carnival time, and of course we did ' the French market Only at the antipodes do extremes meet, and nowhere else than here have I seen such varied types of men and women, such differing complexions and so many toagued a babble. These fellahs and Nubians replace your negroes and mulattoes; the high Turks 1 represent the dominant northerners, con| trolling the government and the business; while these Copts and Egyptians ?*??? vrvVirv novor nllflTlffA tin j UIO J UUl VlCViVO) nuv uwiv* w?v~?0w ! derauysky." "You are a singular woman," the man i answered, with the easy freedom of old I friendship. "To what your sex usually lend their eyes you give your ears and brains as well. I have 'done' the Ezbekieh with lords and ladies, with savants from nearly every country in Europe and with many an American, and never before have I heard such a suggestion." "Familiarity, you know," she said, | with her rare smile. "But this wonder! ful adopted mother of yours has recalled | your natural one to me a dozen times, i though I never spoke of it before." j "There certainly is something in what you say," Latour answered, falling into her mood. "The different quarters of Cairo, confining the different nationaliI ties, do suggest Frenchtown and the i eastern district." "And yonder," she said seriously, the i graceful arm sweeping toward the Nile, i "is the antipodal first cousin of your ! Mississippi." ' "By Jove! Lady Edith," Latour cried, "1 believe you are making note.; for your book upon Egypt. But there is strong analogy between the rivers. Only note a difference," he added moro lightly. "With the Arab nature's beneficence is joyously hailed and utilized; we Christians, at home, dam the mud?in both senses; forcing it to bar out commerce instead of enriching our fields." "Attempts to coerce nature are never fully successful," the woman answered, looking dreamily at the others of their party. "I see proof every day in England. There it is a curious study to watch the results of transplanting buds from the American forcing house into that social garden of Eden tho British aristocracy." "Doubtless," Latour answered frankly. "But all our women are not fitted for that transplanting as you were." "As I was!" There came the old time i darkening into the brown eyes raised to j his, but behind it a something which I he could not read. "As I was? Oh, how ! little men read us! How little we understand ourselves!" There was an awkward pause. Latour thought of a hundred things in tho brief interval; but not one of them would do at all to answer her strango speech. Her eyes were fixed upon tho ground. Without raising them she said rapidly, with suppressed vehemence: "My old friend, I can say truthfully that not only was I less fitted to find happiness in outward success than most | other slaves of that harem of convenance, but, had I then known myself at all, I should have starved beforo I became one of the western odalisques!" j Latour stared at the beautiful woman by his side in much wonderment. Like lightning his memory reverted to that long summer, when they had wandered about "Flirtation," she already the thorough woman of society, he the gauche, untried cadet. How different, yet how i little changed, 6he seemed now to his more perceptive eyes?all the traits of ! her grand face toned, but not matured, i by time, the always lissome figure devel| oped into absolute perfection, without one suspicion of overfulness! Never before, even in tho close intimacy of the renewed past, had the physical woman so attracted him .-is now, sitting under the palm, with the clinging folds of her rich gown suggest| ing those perfect lines, seen only in the | taper feet peeping beneath it, the long, firm hands lying listless in her lap. Never beforo had the menial woman been so dazzlingly turned upon him as ; now. And there was suppressed sadness I in her tone, spite or the hitter worus?a i world of feeling growing in the eyes into : which he looked. That nameless thrill of feminine contact?softer than the mesmerist's spell, more dangerous than the serpent charm?dryw about the man, closer and more resistless. There was nothing awkward in the silence now, yet it seemed unbearable to j him. He spoke as men often do, so moved?at random: "1 never dreamed you were sentimental!" "I never was sentimental," she answered slowly. "No; even when, onco in my life, I knew that I?loved!" She raised her eyes full to his. They glowed in their black depths with something which might be the memory of a dead passion, might bo its living and burning reality. Hut, as the eyes dropped quickly, the voice was uumoved in i its rich music that added: "Had 1 been sentimental I had never \ been his?wife!" "But?you seem so happy together!" As his words sounded on his own ear ] Latour felt that the cavalry colonel was floundering, deeper than the cadet had ever done. Vr English"?she pat bitter emphasis upon the words?"are so different from the Egyptians. We hide our skeletons. Be* sides, it would be a triumph for the stately and bloodless automatons recognised by her gracious majesty annually as the Martindale dowager peeresses to suppose that I was unhappy." "I do not understand"? La to or began abruptly; but she answered before be finished: "Certainly you do not Men never do, as ! told you before the Sphinx today; but 1 am not unhappy in the least? about that I am only dreadfully weary of it all?the forms, the boredom and the acting." "And he suspects?" His voice wiijs ? ? * - i i fit. eager, ana ne le&nea lowara ner with his old Creole impetuosity. "No, be does not suspect," she answered rather wearily. "He knows. 1 told him in Paris, six weeks ago, that a quiet separation and a residence abrofsd might be pleasanter to as both." "And he refused! No man coold give you up without more reason!" Latour said with ill suppressed vehemence. "Yes, he loves me, and he knows ' he will have no more reason. The seventeenth Lady Martin dale respects Edith -Vhn' tier Htlysto too much ever to forfeit her good opinion." She turned away her face, the same expression on it as when, ten years before, she sat with him by -the Hudson, waiting for the words that never came. The lines of that face were firmer now, a set determination about the lijjM. Suddenly the eyes, darkened near to blackness, glowed with a passionate yearning in them. In the deep shadow between them his hand rested lightly, tremulously upon hers. "You know my past," she said low and sadly, not moving her face; "a motherless girl, foster reared by society, with an old name and a false position to support. What was I but?an adventuress? No, do not deprecate the ugly word. It is God's truth. I had to buy my future?unless destiny could be reversed, and the man I worshiped caired for me! And to buy it I had only?myself!" Lord Martindale, the British banker, and Sir Roger moved toward them, benpnt.h the nalms. Lndv Martindale drew on the long glove she had removed. Her voice was the usual one as she still looked toward the others and said quietly: "I have found that women who marry for independence are like states that 1 combine for it. Neither get it without j ?a revolution!" . The three Englishmen were very near, I almost within earshot, as she rose, adding: "Yes, I was an adventuress then. Now I am worse; I am a failure, Adrionl" She spoke his name without emphiisia, but it thrilled his ear like music. His heart beat faster than it ever had in all their "Flirtation" days. A dull sense of wonderment was about his brain?a query sounding in it, if he had really been fit to comprehend her in all those wasted days of the long ago?if really he comprehended himself now! And once more, as the others reached them, he muttered to himself: "Is it ldsmet?" [to be continued next week.] piiscdlnnfous pending. THE LITTLE BOY'S TROUBLE. t *' 1 * ? yt.l ?v?*? iaiiai?a 1 UlOUglU WUUIl xu leunicu my icucm That all my troubles were done; Hut I find myself much mistaken? They only nave just begun. Learning to read was awful, But nothing like learning to write; i I'd be sorry to have you tell it, But my copy-book is a sight. The ink gets over my fingers; The pen cuts all sorts of shines, And won't do at all as I bid it; The letters won't stay on the lines, But go up and down and all over, As though they were dancing a ilg, They are there in all shapes and shies, Medium, little und big. There'd be some comfort in learning If one can get through; instead 1 Of that, there are books awaiting ! Quite enough to craze my head. There's the multiplication table And grammar, and?oh, dear me! There's no good place for stopping, When one has begun, I see. Mv teacher says, little by little to tho mountain top we climb ; It isn't all done in a minute But only a step at a time. She savs that all the scholars, All the wise and learned men, Had each to begin as I do; And that's so?where's my pen ? 'SOCKLESS JERRY." Everybody lias heard of Jeremiah Simpson, familiarly known as plain "Jerry," or "Sockless Jerry," congressman elect from Kansas. When he takes his seat in congress, he will be the most strikingly unique character that has figured in that body since the days of Davy Crockett, and it is doubtful if even Crockett was more singularly quaint or original. Simpson is a plain spoken, uneducated, horneylianded tiller of the soil. He is possessed of an unusual amount of plain, hard sense; is as true as steel and as honest as the gold which he hates. He is not a politician, and has never sought olficc, but owes his present position to the confidence of his fellow ! Alliancemen. They nominated him in | secret caucus, insisted on his accept, ing the nomination, and elected him to ; the office by an overwhelming majorj ity, and altogether not so much as $300 ' was spent in his election, i Simpson is a native of New York I State, having been born in Oneida | county, in 1S48. His parents were poor, and when a boy be was required to do an unusual quantity of bard ; work. He became discouraged and' | ran away to become a sailor 011 the J great lakes. Upon the breaking out ! of the war he volunteered 011 the Fedej ral side, but after about three months was mustered out of service 011 account j of sickness. He then returned to the I great lakes and became captain of a j vessel, and continued as a mariner un; til 1S7S. In the winter of 1H77, his vessel, the James H. Ilutler, was wreck I ed, but t>v bis heroic conduct the crew ; was saved from drowning, j The following year Simpson deterI mined to become a farmer and located ! in Kansas. He met with hut inditler! cut success, and finally, on account of j the ill-health of his wife, moved to the i town of Medicine Lodge, and served | for a time as city marshal. About this time it happened that the | farmers of the Seventh Kansas district, i the largest district in the United States, | wanted a candidate for congress. They wanted some one, however, who was ( not seeking the ollice, and finally een tered 011 Simpson. The ltepuhlicnns, j who had put up Col. James It. llallow; ell of Wichita, one of the most able lawyers and politicians in the State, looked upon the matter as a joke, but Jerry accepted and went to work, i In his speeches he would contrast j his condition with that of his oppoI nent. lie said he was unable to appear before his audiences like Col. Hal1 iowell, with silk stockings on, or indeed with any stockings at all, except I those of the natural bull'presented by . his mother. Then he would take off ; his boot and display a sockless foot. Immediately the air would be filled with shouts of approval, and an avalanche of hats. Jerry was accused of illiteracy, and it was said that he spellJ ed the name of his own town asuMnid| son Lodge." In answer to the charge, j he said he had no use for a man who j could not spell a word in more than one : way. As the campaign progressed. { Jerry's strength grew until finally the J enthusiasm of his constituents knew no bounds. Finally, when the votes | were counted, it was ascertained that the majority of the sockless candidate ran way up into the thousands. It is said that no man ever had such I a strong personal following. For a ICW uojro iui.vn.UB , result seemed to be involved in doubt. Every sort of rumor was in circulation, and among others a report that Jerry . was being counted out. At this the farmers mounted their horses, shouldered their guns, and swore that 8ockless Jerry should go to congress. When the later returns came in, however, Simpson's majority was swelled to such proportions as to remove all doubt of his election. In Simpson's district there are 70,000 voters, and in the convention by which he was nominated there was no lawyer, only two men with white collars, and none with white shirts. Simpson is an uncompromising advocate of the free coinage of silver. He said that there was not gold enough in J Wt. nf tne worm w an mo ucmjrcu wom< w the people, much less to ftrrnish an adequate circulating medium, which should not be less than fifty dollars per capita. While it may be true that a farmer can buy as much with a gold dollar as he ever could, it costs him at least three times more of his products to get the dollar than it ever did before. Last year, Kansas corn, which cost twenty-one cents to raise, sold at thirty-seven and a half cents. It was cheaper than coal, although the coal miners are starving to death. Simpson advocates government control of railroads as well as every other Alliance measure, and as it is believed that he will develop into a powerful champion of the farmers in the halls of congress, his sayings and doings in the coming session will be watched with unusual interest. THE CENTRAL ASIA COTTON RECKON. Mr. John S. Scott of liars Bluff, Florence county, was employed by the Russian Foreign Trade Company about two years since to go to Central Asia for the purpose of instructing the natives in the art of cotton growing according to American methods. He was interviewed a few days ago, and we make a few extracts from his account of his observations and labors in that far-away country. . He was stationed at Sarmacand, where the company had a farm of 700 fT1?Dnoalano u/flM crlir* ncrea. iwu yuuug uwdwus nv>v e.. en him as assistants to be instructed how to plant cotton. He found that the cotton was cultivated in the rudest manner and with the rudest implements. The seed were sowed broadcast, and the land cultivated with wooden plows. He also found the native species of cotton much inferior to the cotton of this country. He carried a quantity of American cotton seed, and found that the common upland cotton was best suited to that climate, which greatly resembles that of middle Carolina. The natives were averse to any progressive innovation, and it was with difficulty he could?get them to use the improved American agricultural implements he introduced. The soil he fbund very fertile and capable of producing large crops with the aid of irrigation, but without it the yield is not large. American gins and presses are in use and the cotton is pressed into bales of about 350 pouhds each. The cotton is more carefully handled, and as a result reaches the market in a better condition than does American cotton. -- hi .J J The country is tniCKiy semeu auu has many populous cities, all of which have garrisons of Russian troops. Justice is administered by military courts, and he praises the kindness and leniency with which the natives are treated. The inhabitants of the cotton belt are of the Mongolian race, and are a shiftless and indolent people, averse to I work or innovation of any kind. They are content to live in the same mauner as did their forefathers, hundreds of years ago. They are to be commended for one thing, however, they confine themselves to drinking tea, leaving I strong drink entirely alone, i The South need have no fear of com: petition from Central Asia, for the country is so densely populated that | it will always require a greater portion j of it to be planted in breadstuff's, leavt ing but a small area to be devoted to : the production of cotton. ~ Mr. Scott seems to be well pleased with his sojourn in the far east, but still thinks South Carolina the best country to live in. A Curious Movement.?The inhabitants ot the sleepy village ofWilmette, Illinois, were astonished not very long ago to find an enormous elm tree standing in the middle of their priifcipal i street. It had been moved along the highroad, and was being conveyed to Graceland Cemetery, where it was to be planted over the grave of Mr. J. H. Lathrop of Chicago. A rather romar.j tic story is told about the reason for I the transportation of so large a tree. I It was said that while Mr. Lathrop and j a friend were out shooting about two j years ago, they stopped to take lunch | under the spreading limbs of an enor| mous elm. They stood admiring the j tree, and finally entered into a com1 pact that upon the death of either, the j tree was to l>e transplanted to the ! grave of the deceased at the expehse j of the survivor. Unfortunately, there is no reason to believe that there is any j truth in the story, as Mr. Lathrop was not a sportsman. He knew the tree, j took a fancy to it, and made up his j mind that he would be buried under I its branches. To that end he provided I a fund of $10,000 in his will for the reI moval of the tree from the forest where '! it stood to the cemetery, a distance of I twelve miles. At the time when the | photograph which was published was , taken, the tree had been moved five | miles without accident, save the sad fate which met one of the laborers, who was crushed to death beneath it. A force of thirteen men is employed, and the expense of removal so far has been $2,000. ' A- hole has been chiseled through i the tree about ten feet from the ground, j and through this has been passed a * * * * * t - A?V* Alt | steel oar, wiucn projt*c-i? mi cuuugu either side to hear upon the heavy i timber braces which support the tree in an upright position. Wire guy ; ropes are attached to staples driven in | the limbs, which serve as a further supi port. The roots are carefully wrapped : up to protect them from freezing. : The tree is about seventy-five feet j high and seven feet in circumference. j Tim Worm in the Cigarette.? ! The worst trouble that cigarette dealj ers have to contend with is the tobac| co weevil. It is a new insect, or at : least it was a few years ago, when it ; appeared at leading cigarette factories . in the South and bid fair to ruin the I business. It was the only insect, so | far as known, except the tobacco worm, | that could thrive 011 tobacco, and 110 insect powder had the least effect 011 it. One or two factories in Richmond were, some years ago, compelled to change their quarters to get rid of the weevils. They finally succeeded, but I every little while a big lwx of cigaj rcttes is found spoiled, the insects hav1 ing bored it through in every direction. I They seem to prefer cigarettes as places , to deposit their eggs, and if any one perceives a strange taste or smell in a i cigarette he is smoking, just let him 1 stop, pull it to pieces and ascertain whehter or not he is smoking tobacco bugs.?Interview in St. Louis I)emo; crat. One of the speakers at the Epis1 copal congress in Philadelphia, described an agnostic as a man who professes ; to know nothing, but who gets angry if you believe him. The definition has | been given before, but it is so true that i it is worth keeping in view.