Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 08, 1891, Image 1
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vol" 37 yorkville, s. c., vednespay, apbil 8, 1891. jsto. 9.
" " ' mriv " toowiavq I nloarlv inarJAnnatp that, in the absence
CREOLE 1
BY T. O.
Author of "Pour Yenw In
"C^rous T
DEDICATED TO HON. HENRY WATTERHON
rNPOROOTTEN, AS OUR SHADOWS 1
[Copyright, 1890, by J. B. Lippincott Cor
meat wit
PART m?CHAPTER VHL
EXPIATION.
Latour-Bev strode rapidly to his quar
tare. Scarce a half hour before be had j
left that gateway; but he had lived years !
in that interim* He penned a hasty tel- j
egraxn to the minister of war that he
would report at Alexandria by the next i
, morning's train; then a brief note to the i
governor of Cairo requesting conge, j
Summoning his orderly, he gave direc- ;
tians far packing some clothing and a i
few designated papers; then sat down j
and wrote full instructions for the Turk.
iah eoloneleeaM? rank and for CaptT
Mustafa.
All this Latour did with the methodical
quiet of his regular life before it had
been broken in upon by the Martin dales.
Indeed, the memory of the past ten days i
seemed literally blotted out from Ids '
lite, or as an episode of the far past, with
no bearing upon the preset*.
Finishing his writing he lighted his chi- >
bouque, unfolded Dale Everett's letter, 1
and carefully read once more every word
of its well remembered pages. Dated
at Paris, six weeks bofore, the letter j
began:
"Constantly of late, here and at Lon- |
don. Lady Martin dale and I have talked :
of yon, and of those dear old days, before
war separated us, and some later
cause, never since explicable to me,
finally divided us. Ignorant as lam
why you farced the duel on me, I have
condnded it a solemn duty to write you |
some facts which it is your right to
know. For, from chance words escaping
her, I am now convinced that Edith j
Van der Huysen knew in those (Jays
secrets which another's command and |
my own sense of honor locked behind I
my Hps.
"1 oould also swear that she lost or
withheld a brief note written me on the
day of Bennie's wedding to further seal
my lips on the knowledge that the love
she denied me was given utterly to you.
The wife he had won?and lost!
"I am sure now, as I suspected then,
that Edith herself loved yon, as far as
she is capable of loving. I am convinced
she visits Egypt now to test on
the man that wonderful fascination of
hers which failed with the boy.
"Another reason this that I should
break my word and my silence now?
that 1 should reproach myself for not
having done so in the past"
Then the letter went on to explain
very delicately the story of that cottage
on the Hudson, and how it chanced that
the pare girl's secret escaped into his
keeping. It further told how the young
widow chanced to be in New Orleans.
She had been wholly ignorant of her
husband's total ruin by the war, and
Dale would not tell her of his failure to
recover the dead man's property, as he
had recovered inadame's plantations adjoining.
Dale had postponed the ill
news, letting her suppose the money he
furnished was her own.
What betrayed his secret, what caused
her sudden change toward him, he never
knew: but after Mardi Gras night she
positively declined another dollar, and
insisted on leaving New Orleans at once.
This she did by selling her diamonds. And.
from that day Dale had never been ab&
to trace her whereabouts, but had received
three kind and gentle letters, each
inclosing a check, but only adding that
she was well and with her father and
aunt *E
The letter closed with frank forgive- neaB
of Latouris violence and insult; with
candid praise for the fame he had won
in his new service; and with most delicate
intimation that, if his memory of
his early love was not really dead, he
might wish tq find its object once more.
Latour again folded the letter carefully,
placing it in his inner pocket
He was absolutely sure that Dale
Everett was as equally ignorant of the
base suspicion he had harbored of the
wronged woman us that they had ever
met and spoken in the garden.
His decision had been made as calmly
as irrevocably on first reading Dale's letter.
There had been no question of it;
his duty to himself, to the true woman
and noble gentleman ho had so injured,
demanded that he should seek them
now, striving as best he might to atone
for his past.
But stronger than duty was his awakened
love for the sweetheart of his boy
hood?the love he himself had bo long
believed dead, not sleeping; that only
last night he had boasted to another was
buried deep and still as the Memlook
(caliphs in their tombs!
With La tour, to decide had been to
act ever. He stood in that still moonlight,
ready and determined to start
upon the quest for his spirit's Sangreal,
as had been that older and less sinful i
Laoncelot. }
With the earliest streak of dawn he .
had gripped Ahmed Mustafa's hand, i
mounted his horse and was riding slowly
toward the station of the Northern railway.
Ashe rode near the Mosque el
Aksar ere yet the first ray of the sun had
gilded its lofty minarets, from one of
them floated the muezzin's note of its ;
advent to the faithful:
"Allah il Allah! Mohammed resoul il
Allah!"
And that call echoed through the
chamber where Edith, Lady Martin dale, :
lay calm and still upon her bed, as
though love and sin and remorse had
never been. It sounded clear into the
chamber near, where her husband heard,
springing from bed as the sound of Sir
Roger Arnyffe's rap blended with its
solemn cadence.
Lord Martindale had been detained
long at the British consulate general.
"It is my duty to make this a national
*nv lrml " her British ma-ieetv'a
representative) had insisted on hearing
the facta of the capture. "Much as you
may desire to avoid publicity, I must
report the detail*to the foreign office."
"Can't stop the wheels of diplomacy, :
I suppose," grumbled Lord Mnrtindale.
"Might be worse, though. Devilish
lucky not to be in America, you know.
Those newspaper fellows would have
twenty different versions already in as
many newspapers, really! Some comfort
in a slow country, after all!"
But at last, escaping the consul general
and refusing the proffered services of
the dragoman, the anxious husband ,
started for the hotel, walking rapidly
through the crooked and narrow streets.
But, swift as was his stride, the Englishman's
thoughts wero still more rapid, j
reviewing the near past and trying to
comprehend its punishment for him.
He not onlv admiral his wife, but loved
D PURITAN.
T>e LEON,
Retool Capitals," ".Tuny,"
apposes."
r, IN MEMORY OF SCHOOLBOY DAYS, STILL !
LENGTHEN TOWARD THE SUNSET.
npany, and published by special arrangeh
them.]
her with the deep passion of a sluggish
nature when waked to feeling; and her
insistent return to a demand for a itupa
ration pained him more than the tai nts
and insults she had heaped upon him
that morning.
Bat, with all that, no shadow of }eal- j
ousy clouded the perfect trust ho re- I
poeed in her. Whatever her whim or ,
imperious temper during the ten-years
she had been an acknowledged leader j
1J kAnvi4-?? in T.AW/1 AT\ DA/vinix* nn
CU1U CUViCU UWUVJ IU mvuuvu y -w
faintest whisper had been heard in any
tqoarter 0 1< I Jill P6** j
feet discretion.
Suddenly the houses seemed strange ,
to him; the street was narrower, and he ,
noticed that more than one of the over- j
hanging balconies quite bridged it He
was at the Turkish quarter of Cairo.
With agony of helplessness he realised
that he was lost in a city of the dumb;
bat what must be thonght of hi.i sick
wife had she waked meantime, and noticed
his long absence from her side.
British plnck rose at thought of her;
he turned, pressed round many a tor- '
tuous lane, suddenly halting to mop his
brow, with a great sigh of relief, as the
Eybikieh showed before him.
Five minutes later he had bounded np
the stair and passed softly across his
wife's sitting room. The lamp npen the
stand was turned low, but resting
against it was a folded square of paper,
addressed to him in his wife's writing.
Tearing it open Lord Martindale read:
Do not wake me, my husband, hat tf'youlore
me take me away at oooa Cairo is hatef dto ma
after today! Forgive me all my waywa tineas?
my taunts. 00, Herbert, take me homo and 1
will never ask to leave you again. iSotm
The great,' sturdy fellow read these
lines over and over, through suspicious
moisture in his eyes: with a great lump i
in his throat
"Husband! Herbert! The first time
she has used those names for months,"
he said aloud. "Poor child! how her
pride muat have suffered tobriogcon- !
feasion! But she loves me the same,
thank God! Go? Of course she shall; I
first train, by Jove!"
He dived deep in his pocket, drew out
his "Murray," and scanned the train list j
eagerly, mattering:
"Um, tun! 6:10 a. m.; yes, that will i
do. Plenty time to pack after dawn." |
He stood irresolute a moment, his face
glorified almost into beanty by the radiance
of a new born joy. Then he softly j
raised the portiere of his wife's room, i
The stillness of death was there, broken ,
only by the heavy, regular breathe of the
Enclish maid sleetnnir nrofouncQv on a <
near divan. Only reflection from the
brilliant moonlight lit the room. Thrown
carelessly upon the bed he saw the graceful,
stately form he so loved, the loose j
glory of her superb hair sweeping about j
the shoulders and shadowing the face. !
The husband paused beneath the lifted j
curtain, the impulse to pass die two j
paces between and softly seal their new !
peace upon her lips strong upon him. |
But he mastered it, dropping the por- j
tier? gently as he whispered to himself: ,
"She would wake so startled! She is '
sleeping so light! But at dawn)"
Lightly crossing the room he sought J
his own, where he found Harris, with ;
bandaged head and pale face, sitting up ;
for him. To the groom's infinite amaze
as he rose to his feet Lord Muxtindale
rushed upon him, seized his hand in vise
like grip and shook it fiercely.
"Glad you're all right! Thank yon
sincerely?very sincerely! She told me,
you know!" the British peer blurted out
at the dumfounded serving man.
Harris let his relinquished hand drop
limp to his side, gasping with surprise
and flaming red with pride.
"Oh! me lnd! me lnd!" wus all he
could mutter, but the tone wsa as eloquent
as most after dinner speeches are
not.
"Leave this cursed place at dawn,
Harris," his lordship added. "Train at
6:10. Get to bed now and wake me at
first light Here, send this to Sir Roger
,at once. Most see him to say good-by,
you know. That's all!"
And soon the lately anxious husband
threw himself upon his bed, the happy j
light of the new day dawning for him
ofill oViirnnc in Ma
t ^Did the beautiful woman lying iu the
Toom so near know what a load her ,
words had lifted from his true, undemonstrative
heart?
When Adiien Latour's last words had
crashed upon her sickening sense, when ;
his tall form passed from her sight, as ,
she felt forever, the horror frozen in
Edith's face rested there, cold and still.
A cunning sculpture of despair had
been not more motionless than the stately
woman there, while the little clock
ticked sixty seconds out upon the deadly
stillness.
Gradually the rigid arms relaxed, the
horror softened in her eyes?only the
anguish left; and a great, gasping sob j
eVnvpT<vl from her heart. '"ho state!v
head, shadowed by the loose hair, !
dropped low in her hands; again the sob
rent her?this time a moan:
"Is anything left?"
So many minutes. Then the face was
raised, white and sorrowful, the eyes
now dark and luminous, the lips no
longer set, but quivering w th the almost
soundless words:
"Yes?expiation!"
She grasped the curtain, rising to her !
feet and putting back the hair from her
broad, low forehead with both hands. |
Quietly, calmly she moved to the table,
opened her desk with steady hand and
began to write rapidly.
"I dare not see him to-nigh;," she said, '
in low tones. "What I owe his faithful j
heart I will begin to pay?to-morrow!"
A luminous resolve lighted the grand j
oval of her face. Rapidly she folded
the note and placed it on the stand with
out, the low voice?not trembling now,
but clear and sweet?repeating:
"Expiation! Yes, thank God! expiation!"
Turning back, the raised curtain still j
in her right hand, a quick agonizing
spasm shot through her side. Her left
hand clutched the laces above her heart,
crushing them hard against it; a labored
breath or two and the pain passed away. '
"That is the first step! The next is so ;
hard?so hard!"
Her whisper was full of shame and i
sorrow; but never hesitat ng 6he sat j
once more anu wrote in rapid characters, j
but firm and clear:
"Knowing you as I do, Adrien, know- ]
iDg myself as you now know me, I feel
that you will never look into my face
this side of the great mercy seat. That
I sinned against you all, more against j
myself, most against God, through my
wild love for you is no palliation. For
what I thought love itself was only
crime! That love which schemed to
make you my husband, which would
have made me your slave had you so
willed?that passion is dead You killed
it at a blow, showing me myself in the
full glare of my sin; but, God be thanked,
not hopeless now. And when we do
meet there expiation will be done, if his
mercy lets contrition, lifelong study of
duty atone here. For now I see that
lust is never love. It may rise to the
dignity of passion, never to that better,
purer love she feels for you. I have told i
my husband enough to lift the load I
studied to heap upon that true heart, so
little conscious of the bareness in mine.
Confession now would pn:aish him as I
am punished! Everything Dale Everett .
believes of me?yes7 far more than he
suspects?is true! I lied to him, lied to
that pure girl, lied to you in everything
save when I said I loved you! And the
letter she wrote to Dale on her wedding
day I gave to"
Again the sharp pain pierced her side,
fierce, unbearable. Agonized, racked,
she pressed her hand upon her breast.
With ashen lips apart, breathless, she
leaned against the table.
Mechanically her hand reached for
one of the bottles near, sprung the stop*
per and the sickening odor of chloroform
stole into the air. She placed it to her
nostrils; the tortured lungs moved gaspingly,
each breath a stab, then gradually
more naturally, under the numbing
drug.
Her right hand closed the bottle wearily,
pushing it back among the others,
then dropping nervelessly upon the written
page.
A moment later that hand closed hard
upon the sheet, crushing it with Spasmodic
strength against her heart She
rose to her feet not noting the jar that
overturned the candle; staggered to the
bed and fell upon it with one deep gasp
of relief unspeakable!
The sputtering taper on tne tame
flared high up, then went 0Trt,~!lsltving
the moonlight dim about the room; but
Lady Martindale lay calm and motionless
as a tired infant on the mother's
breast, until the first gray 6treak of day
rose over the eastern desert and, peering
through her casement, lightly touched
the soft folds of her white drapery.
Then from the minaret swelled out the
call of the muezzin, heard by La to or as
he went forth to his quest; by the eager
husband fresh awakened into his new
life of love; by the trusty old friend corning
to bid them Godspeed. ?
But if the sleeping woman heard the ;
call she made no sign, lying there quiet
and peaceful as though love, remorse
and sin had never been.
Sir Roger was doubtful if his patient's
strength was equal to an early journey,
but Lord Martindale would hear no
doubts. In his new found joy his wife's
will was not his law alone; it must be
law to circumstance as welL
Crossing the sitting room with a boy's
step the husband moved swiftly to his
wife's side. The kiss he withheld last
night might wake her now. He stooped
and pressed it softly on her lips.
Sir Roger in the doorway saw him
8tagger back against the will, wide eyed.
a ghastly horror in his race.
At the bedside in an instant, the surgeon
raised the rounded wrist Quickly
he stooped and passed his cheek before
the lips, then placed his ear to the heart
Tenderly he laid the still hand by her
side, and the face he raised to the husband
struck him to his knees by that
bedside, his strong frame racked by
soundless sobs, his white face pressed
hard on the cold, still one of the wife he
had won?and lost!
No word was spoken: but the old surgeon
turned away. His practiced eye
caught the writing case, the candle overturned,
the bottles. One of these he
raised, smelled the chloroform and shook
his head.
Then, conscious of the crumpled paper
left in his by the stiffened fingers he had
held, he opened it and read a few lines.
Glancing at the still bowed head, at -the
calm, peaceful face near it, with infinite
pity, Sir Roger moved swiftly to the
door and held the paper in the night
lamp there.
When it had curled, blazed and shriveled
black to cinder still no word was
spoken.
Only the breathing of the sleeping
maid was heard in that still chamber,
whence a woman and her secret had
both gone out into the new dawn.
Had her own mocking words been
prophecy?
Had her CEdipus come to her?
And, with the riddle of the ages solved
for him, had a later Sphinx found life
was bearable no more?
PART HI?CHAPTER IX.
WHAT QUEST BROUGHT.
;
I I
Full memory hu>l come back novo.
A heavy snow drove across Broadway,
freezing against the window of the hotel
whence Adrien Latonr peered anxiously
into the late December day that closed
the old year.
From Alexandria, where he chanced
on steamer day, he had gone direct to |
Paris. From the military attache of the j
United States legation there he learned
that Dale Everett had sailed for home i
soon after the Martindales left for Egypt, I
hnt that his arrival at a New York hotel i
had just appeared in late papers. La tour 1
promptly cabled there, taking the next I
Havre steamer; and as her gangplank
touched the New York wharf, not waiting
"the law's delay" in custom house
matters he drove straight to the hotel.
Awaiting him there he found tough
old Dr. Minot, an army surgeon known
in boyhood's days; and from him learned j
that his cable had reached Dale too late
for answer. He had been ordered home - j
for special duty, and arriving quite sick
had insisted on attempting it. Exposure
in the dreadful weather had developed
typhoid symptoms; and he now lay ill at
the hotel.
"Is he dangerously ill?" Adrien asked
the doctor, his face white with anxiety, j
"How the devil can I say?" the old J
surgeon answered gruffly. "You might !
as well ask, Do men get killed in battle? j
Some do; some don'tl Typhoid is as bad
as bullets. If he weathers,the fifth day I
from this he'll probably pull through.
Come up and help nurse him."
And Latour did nurse him, with the
tenderness of a woman, never leaving
the bedside save to confer with the lawyer
and detective he had promptly put
on a Bearch for Bennie Mason. But ad- |
vertisements for heirs of Beverly Mason I
were unanswered; and the detective sys- j
tern of New York remained ignorant !
whether Bennie or her father was in that
city or not.
Twice in that weary suspense of five
days Dr. Minot had shaken his head ominously
on taking his patient's temperature,
and Adrien read in his face that
Dale would die. But twice the mighty
frame and unbroken constitution had (
wrestled successfully with the grim foe, ;
for it seemed that the strong will which
had borne him from boyhood to honors
and distinction had decreed that the
matter it dominated should not yield.
But through the wandering fancies of
the fever one had recurred again and
again?meaningless to all else, but thrilling
Adrien Latour -with infinite pity, j
Half moan, half entreaty, would come
the words:
"We're old?old friends, Bennie!"
And hearing them the Creole had more
than once hid his face in the coverlet
and pressed his grim mustache against
the wasted hand lying helpless upon it.
This wns the day of crisis. Outside
the snowflakes flew faster and more
blinding, pedestrians turned up coat
collars about their ears, and the few cab
horses left at the stands seemed mutely
begging pity and shelter. Inside Dr.
Minot nodded comfortably in an easy
chair before the fire, waiting the wak- j
Ing bo meaningful; Adrien Latour, at j
the window, gnawed his mustache in !
restless thought, mechanically counting ;
the few street lamps now visible through I
the storm.
Suddenly a movement in the bed, and
both watchers started forward to see the
longed for sanity in the eyes of Dale ,
Everett feebly turned from one to the j
other. Gradually memory crept into
them, now steadily fixed on Latour; the
wasted fingers crept out to his hand, and
as the Creole bowed his head over them
Dale whispered feebly:
"Letter?came?dear old boyP
Then, closing his eyes in very weari- ;
ness of content, he slept softly.
"Will he get well?' Adrien whispered
eagerly.
"How the devil can 1 tell?* again answered
old Minot, this time rather huskily
and with suspicious moisture in his
eyes. And he blew his nose trumpet
lie before he added, "Watching and
WiiiU} UUU UO a (Ut A&fyuv uvnt
Since the day his appointment as ca- |
det reaohed him in Paris, Latonr had |
never felt the joy that now thrilled
through him. When the doctor left he
sat before the glowing coals dreaming,
while the snow fell faster without; and
darkness crept into the sick room. But
he heard nothing save the regular breathing
of his sleeping friend, saw nothing
bat pictures of the long past in the
glowing vistas of the sea coaL
Suddenly he felt a light touch on his
shoulder.
"Tapped twice, and feared to disturb ;
him," the new comer said, jerking his
head toward the sleeper. "How'a be,
getting long?"
"Better. Any luck?" Adrien replied
anxiously.
The other motioned him into the parlor
and closed the door before he answered,
quietly:
"Luck's not in my line, general. Dick
Peerman's reputation was made by trusting
to something better'n that. No ,
luck."
The speaker was wiry, medium sized,
and close shaven. He was dressed in
scrupulous black, with natty boots and
stitched tan gloves. The hat he had not
removed was flat rimmed, with a broad
band of crape. He was an ordinary man,
with two extraordinary things about
him: one that, coming from the furious
storm, there was no speck of moisture
on shiny hat or glossy boots; the other
the cool, incisive, meaningless stare of
of his keen, gray eyes. Yet Capt. Richard
Peerman was the sharpest detective
Uncle Sam had ever paid for unearthing
a paymaster'8 "little game" in war or
"clicking the bracelets" round a felon's
wrists in peace.
"So you cannot find any clew?" La tour
asked wearily; but he eagerly seized the
card the other extended by way of answer.
"Toughest case I ever worked up on
no clew," the detective said placidly.
"Tens o' thousands of 'em exactly alike
in this town. But when Dick P*erman
goes for a thief or a woman, either may
as well come down."
The Creole had read the card over and
over by the fitful firelight Without reply
he threw on a heavy army cloak, and
whispering the other to wait stole out
and softly closed the door.
Through howling storm and blinding
snow the driver of a chanced on cab
steered La tour over the East Side, where
tenements swarm with human vermin,
where poverty and pestilence stalk hand
in hand through nazes of their ceaseless
carnival Miles they struggled northward,
out of the closer district, to where
progress had not yet crowded his victims
so closely; then they stopped before a
tall, dingy house, and La tour, springing
out, ascended the crazy stair and paused
at every landing.
At last he halted, a flood of wondering,
pitying tenderness sweeping his face
as he looked around that cheerless home
of poverty.
Twice he raised his hand, twice he
paused before he tapped nervously upon
the door. The answer came prompt and
sharp, but again he caught his breath |
hard before he ventured to lift the crazy '
latch.
Over a very Bmall fine, in a clean but
almost bare room, sat Miss Tabitha Fay
and her brother. She was only a shade
more angular, he far less rotund than
of yore; but over the faces of both time
and poverty had unmistakably passed
their hands.
"Nonsense, Brother Standish! I did
hear a rap. Come in!" were the words
that carried the visitor back on a flood
of memory and pity,
Surprise, greeting and explanation
were 60on over, and La tour asked anxiously:
"Where is Bennie?"
"She is rather later than usual tliia
evening," Miss Tabitha answered apologetically.
"She usually returns by early
lamplight."
"Where from?' queried La tour impatiently.
"It is a very long distance," the spinster
went on as indirectly as ever, "and
the artist photographer detains her at
this season."
"And she now, fortunately," Mi1.
Standish put in, "has been able to secure
extra work."
"Work! A night liko this! Thank
Bod! I have-found her!" Adrien cried in
a half groan.
Then, answering at random the
spinster's voluble cackle and the nnmy
questions of her brother, the Creole
paced the room nervously; ever and
Again pressing his face against the frosty
little pane, or pausing to catch her treat!
upon the creaking stair.
At last it came. Pinched with cold
and covered with snow, Bennie yet ran
in cheerily and kissed her father before
aarxr visifnr.
"Oh! I beg pardon," she said. "I did
not know you had a visitor, papa!?You
here!"
She drew up in surprise, as she recognized
Latour, u dash of old time hauteur
over her face. But the expression on :
his stopped her.
"Bennie, please hear me before you |
speak," ho said, more humbly than he j
had ever spoken to mortal before. And, I
hearing, Miss Fay signaled to her i
brother, strode over, took his arm and
marched him from the room.
Bennie stood silent, her eyes dropped,
her hands clasped listlessly before her.
But eagerly the man went on:
"Bennie, ten weary years ago you
asked my forgiveness. In my pride and
folly I refused it. Five years later you I
besought me, still unchastened by sor- !
row, to stay my cruel judgment. Once |
more, in my sinful blindness, I refused, j
Now, in penitence and contrition, I j
come from lonely wandering to beseech
what I would not givo. Bennie, for the
sake of the old days, can you forgive
mer
Those blue eyes, once saucy, proud I
still, raised quietly from the floor met |
his eager, hungry gaze. The voice was j
low and sweet, but it never trembled as |
she answered:
"From my heart I forgive you!"
His arms were around her, the snow
dampened head pressed close to liis
breast. |
"Bennie! darling!" he whispered, "I '
know all. Dale told mo your secret!" I
"Dale told!" I
Quickly she broke from the strong1 ,
arms; a scarlet flood dyed the face she ;
bent upon the ground.
"Dale told!" she repeated in trembling j
tones. "How could he"
"Hush, darling!" he interrupted. "Do I
not judge him until you know all."
Taking Dale's crumpled letter from I
his breast he put it in her hands. And !
Bennie, standing statue still, read it i
slowly through. But, as she read, the j
play of deep emotions flickered on her j
face, then faded out, leaving no sign to t
the eyes that watched so yearningly.
Then she folded the letter gently, ten- ;
derly, and put it in her bosom.
"This letter must be mine," she sai<l j
quietly, but turning her face away.
"Dale's sacrifice for me I guessed be- \
fore, but some things in it I never
dreamed till now. What he has 'writ- j
ten of me must be mine, tntil I can put
this letter into his own hands again.," j Again,
ns she ceased, the crimson flood
swept the pole face; but Bhe met La- i
tour's eyes bravely as she naked: : j
"Where is Dale now?"
"At tho hotel very ill, ? have"
"I most go to him, tbm," she inter- J
rnpted calmly, but very pale. "Take !
me, please." j 1
And again she raised her eyes and 1
looked fearlessly into tho? of the first j
man sho had ever loved.
? ? <
VHien Bennie Mason softly followed 1
Adrien Latour into the sick r6om Capt 1
Richard Peerman was immersed in the i
bioijraphy of Jamee Mace, ISsq., in the i
current number of a theniamons society f
journal. He rose, removed his hat, as
though that act were greatest conces- 1
?' .nil -nmirlrivl- | i
OJUUy OUU 4 CUM*-?r?. _
"Excuse me,^n.iss, but hanged if you 1
ain't as promptna Dick Peennan!" 1
Then, with a voluminous glance at his ,
employer, he discreetly retired and
closed the door. j 1
Bennie stood by the bed. and looked
down silently and long upon the sleeper. ?
Opposite stood the man who had loved i
and wronged' a?2^" at last, understood 1
her. ; <
Suddenly the sleeper moved restlessly j
and the ever recurrent words came very i
gently this time: \
"Old, old friends, Bennie!" <
Noiselessly and very tenderly the wo- y
man sank upon her knoeu, the bright i
masses of her hair shadovdng the face i
bent over Dale's pale hand. But his i
opening eyes first fell upon his friend's <
face. Full memory had come back now. i
"Dear old boy I" he whispered feebly, j
".Letter all right Find Bennie" i
Then he saw the form beside him. i
Without surprise, without one stan: his j
joy went out in^ne low whisper: f
"Bennie!" (
The woman did not raise her head, |
but her hand very gently pat oat the j
lottter from her bosom. j
"Take this back, dear Dale," she said ]
softly. "Some of it is?true; some must ,
be forgotten." <
Feebly stroking the bright hair he <
answered: <
"Yes, all sorrow must be forgotten,
r.ow! (Give me your hand, dear old j
Adrien. You have found her!" ,
Lying there so feebly, the sick soldier (
tried to join the hands of those two he (
lied loved so loyally, even as he whis- ,
jiered:
"When yon are happiest, Bennie, re- (
member yon said, we are old, old
friends!" ,
Very pale was the face the woman
Ihen raised before both men. Very
Ijeutie, bat firmly clear, was the voice |
l;hat bore these words:
"We were old friends, dear Dale, j
Now with the blessing of God, we will
be more than that, forever, 'till death ,
do us part!'"
THE END.
THE BLAND DOLLAR. ,
There is a curious story about the j
head of Liberty on the obverse of the <
Bland dollar. This is said to be mod- ]
eled from the head of Miss Anna W.
Williams, now instructor of philosophy
and methods of kindergarten training (
at the Girls' Normal school in Philadelphia.
At the time the Bland dollar
made its first appearance, the se- I
cret leaked, out somehow, and to avoid
notoriety the most indefutigable efforts ,
were made to deny the fact, and even J
to this day it4s difficult to get any of ]
Miss Williams's friends who are in the
secret to admit it. Her name went \
broadcast over the land, however, and j
from almost every quarter of the globe j
she was deluged with the most flatter- ing
offers of marriage. Miss Williams i
was a student of the Academy of Fine ,
Arts when Engraver George Morgan, ,
who made the pattern from which the j
dollar was copied, was casting about j
for a model. Some ladies among the j
students at the academy were selected <
to pose. The contour of Miss Williams's
features was chosen as coming \
nearest to the pure Grecian ideal. Be- j
fore the pattern was finally adopted (
it was sent to the academy to get the \
opinion of some artists as to its artistic (
merits. The profile was criticised in
several particulars, chief among which ]
was what was regarded as a too prom- inent
chin. But the authorities at the 1
mint thought it was one of the most j
beautiful types of faces that was ever i
submitted for the head of a coin, und j
it was adopted. As to its strong re- <
semblance to the original, those who
see Miss Williams oflenest are best able ]
to testify. It is considered a good
likeness, but drawn somewhat finer ;
than the living model. Mr. Morgan, .
by the way, is an Englishman, and
some people insist that lie managed to ,
declare his origin in the "Bland" dollar.
By holding the coin with the
date uppermost, and cover the figures
011 a line across the eye to the hair, the (
profile develops a likeness of King
George, the chin being his nose. Hold- (
ing the coin in the same position and
covering the medallion 011 a line from :
the base of the cap, the curl of the
nair develops a uoa wim u? nunc ???.
left.?Illustrated American.
Faces With Lanterns Behind
Them.?There is nothing more catching
than a face with a lantern behind j
it, shining clear through. I have no
admiration for a face with a dry smile,
meaning no more than the grin of a
false face. But a smile written by the
hand of tiod, as an index or table of
contents to whole volumes of good feelings
within, is a benediction. You say :
' My face is hard and lacking in mobility,
and my benignant feelings are
not observable in the facial proportions."
I do not believe you. Freshness
and geniality of soul are so subtle |
and pervading that they will, at some I
eye or mouth corner, leak out. Set |
behind your fate a feeling of gratitude
to CJod and kindliness toward man, j
and you will every day preach a sermon
jus long as the streets you walk, a i
sermon with as many heads as the !
number of people you meet, and dif- !
fering from other sermons in the fact !
that the longer it is the better. The |
reason that there are so many sour faces, i
so many frowning faces, so many dull !
faces, is because men and women con- :
sent to be acrid and petulent and stu- i
pid. The way to improve your face
is to improve your disposition. At- I
tractiveness of physiognomy docs not
depend on regularity of feature. I
know nersons whose brows are shaggy, I
and whose eyes are oblique, and noses !
are ominously longitudinal, and the <
mouth straggles along in the unusual ,
and unexpected directions; and yet !
they are men and women of so much t
soul that we love to look upon them, 1
and their presence is an evangelism.
They get married sooner than the i
painted doll-babies that call themselves |
young ladies, and make home happy !
long after the curls have turned gray, ;
ami the foot of the dance has turned
into a rheumatic shuttle.?Talmage. (
Monopoly-(.Yiwkd.?The Tinted i
States to-day is the worst monopolycursed
nation on the face of the earth. |
They have made more millionaires in
twenty years than all Europe and England
have made in 500 years. Everything
in the country is controlled by a
syndicate, pool, combination, trust, pat- I
ent or corner. If a boy, now grown to :
manhood, desires to go into business, he
must buy himself in. if he wishes to <
enter commerce, he must buy a seat 011 j
the Hoard of Trade; if he wishes to go
into manufacturing, lie must buy himself
into a combination which represents
and has monopolized that busi- }
ness. New Orleans Democrat.
jjfttisretlanfous Reading, j
ON BOARD THE PENSACOLA. P
1
faval Cadet O. W. Williams Writes I
an Interesting Letter from South t
.America. r
The following letter from Cadet Geo. 11
Y. Williams, son of Auditor W. B.
(Villiams, of Yorkville, will be read with
nterest by his many friends and ae- t
luaintances in this county. Cadet f
Villiams is one of the crew of the 0
Jnited States Steamship Pensacola. 9
The Pensacola has been stationed at ^
tfoatevideo, the capital of Uruguay, j,
South America, for several months c
)ast, but on account of a civil war that v
s now raging in Chili, the ship has j]
)een sent to Valparaiso, to protect j.
American interests at that point. The v
etter is addressed to Cadet Williams's (]
nother at this place and is as follows: t
U. S. Steamship Pensacola, Pos- c
esaion Bay, Straits of Magellan, Feb- i'
uary 5,1891.?We left Montevideo on *
Wednesday, January 27, and steamed li
lown the river in the very teeth of a 1
jampero [violent wind that often r
iweeps the South American pampas] i
intil the next day at noon, when we f
. hanged course to the southward. The t
vind hauled aft during the next day i
ind we made sail, and by Sunday, 8
?oon, we were 770 miles from Monte- f
/idee. That night, however, the wind r
?ame out ahead and blew a gale and f
aised a heavy sea, through which we \
plunged for thirty-four hours, making c
jut a little over one hundred miles
n that time. Monday night we got ?
i fair wind, accompanied by a smooth 1
sea, and at 8.30 Tuesday morning, ?
Jape Virgins, at the eastern entrance to c
he bay, was sighted, and at 4 p. m. we I
inchored here in Possession bay in 21 >
"athoms [86 feet] of water. During the a
light a blow came on with such force t
is to malice it necessary to let out more t
jhain to keep from dragging the an- ?
jhor ; so now we are riding to more J
lhan 600 feet of cable. *
The tidal current runs with such $
force through the first "Narrows" that *
v ship but of moderate steam power *
mnnot go through it if the wind also is ?
- ontrary. Such is the case now, and we t
ivill have to wait until to-morrow at '
10 a. m. when we can catch the force 1
if the flood tide. t
Our passage, or at least the last *
three days of it, has been rather un- ]
pleasant:. Going south, of course, made i
it colder, and since Sunday we have i
been shivering in our overcoats. The
season makes no change here. We 1
had hail at sea Monday night, and '
sleet here yesterday, and the strong 1
wind that is now blowing is bitterly I
jold. ][ am thankful to say that I have <
no night watch to stand, but I will have <
a hard time of it all day to-morrow, up 1
an the bridge, taking bearings. I had
a taste of it from 5 to 9 o'clock, coming 1
Dut of Montevideo, and it was not
pleasant as far north as that even.
Down below, however, with the
steam coils, and heavy curtains before .
the doors, it is cosy enough and I
3leep very comfortably. '
We will probably remain at Sandy
Point, our next stopping place, eighty <
rnileB from here, until Monday. Then 1
we will tackle the western end of the '
3traits, which consists of long narrow 1
rocks or channels from two to five
miles wide generally, but at places
narrowing down to one mile. We will
probably pass Cape Pilar, at the west- (
ern end of the strait, next Wednesday 3
morning, and we hope to reach Valpa- 1
raiso within a week afterward. What 1
we will do after we get there is a mat- ]
ter of conjecture. Nobody knows, 1
and nobody cares?at least the cadets 1
do not ; for we have to be back in the 1
States by May, 1892, and after putting j
in three months on the Chilian coast,
it matters very little where we go, as 1
we have but a short time to stay. !
The passage of the straits promises
to be very interesting, as such scenery j
and weather cannot be seen anywhere
else in the world. Here the country {
is nothing but barren hills, as bleak
a looking country as I have ever seen. 1
But further west there are high, heavi- '
ly wooded mountains, which, together 1
with the narrow strait, makes a scene 1
that is very picturesque in its wildness.
Bandy Point, (Punta Arenas, as it is on J
the map) is a Chilian convict colony,
and aside from containing some living !
specimens of the Patagonian tribes,
possess nothing of interest. I have
longed to see a Patagonian ever since
I saw that picture in the back of "Polar
Explorations," that use to lie
around home, and I am looking for- !
ward with pleasure to the gratification
of my wish. i
When we get to Valparaiso, I will
probably have something more to write '
about than drear looking scenery and
a dead town. The Chilians seem to be
having a lively time of it all by them- '
selves, and we consider ourselves quite
fortunate in having some hope of seeing
some naval battles between modern
3hips. Our only fear is, however, that
at the rate we are going now, all the
trouble will be over.
By the time this letter reaches you
you will probably know a great deal
more about the Chilian troubles than I
do, but I will tell you what I under- j
stand about it. Judging from President
Balmaceda's proclamation, the
struggle seems to grow out of a feud
between him and congress. The congress
will airree to not hi uir but to tret
D* ' ' " ?O ?/ ?
rid of the president, and the president
does not propose to be gotten rid of.
He prorogued both houses and administered
the government himself. Congress
attempted to incite a revolt, but
Balmuceda drove its members on board
the fleet, which is in sympathy with it.
I have not heard enough to form an
opinion yet as to which side is right,
but I rather admire the unllinching
nerve with which Balmaceda meets
the issue. He says that he has assumed
a dictatorship because he believed
that it was his duty. He proves, or
claims to prove, by the letter of the
constitution, that congress has acted
in violation of the fundamental law, and
therefore he is justifiable in his course.
I will probably write again in a few
days, but after that you need not be
alarmed if you do not hear from me
again for several months. The Chilian
coast is blockaded and no vessel can
enter the ports. It is possible, however,
that we may have an opportuni- j
ty of sending our mail by stopping j
some outward hound vessel after it j
passes the three mile limit.
Coi.rMill's's Body.?Christopher Co- !
lumhus died in obscurity and poverty :
at Yaladolid, Spain. May 20, loOG. j
By special favor of the monks of St. j
Francis, his body was, for a time, de- |
posited in the vault of their church in I
that city, hut some years later, in pur- j
suance of his own expressed wish, the
remains were translated to Hispaniola
and placed in a crypt under theeathe- i
dral of San Domingo. In 1520 the I
body of Diego, the son of Columbus,
was also buried in the crypt, and some j
years afterward that of Luis, the (lis- j
coverer's grandson, was laid with the j
other two. In 17J)5 the Spanish purt 1
of San Domingo was ceded to the j
French, but before the cession perm is* j
sion was given for the removal of Co- :
lunibus's body to Havana.
A mctalie case, supposed to contain |
the body of the discoverer, was re- !
moved and placed in the Cathedral of j
Havana, and the matter rested until I
1S77, when a metalie casket was found ;
in tlio San Domingo vault, which be- j
yoild ull doubt was that of Christopher
Columbus. It was inscribed both with- 1
i&n v(urjoiiuiio. .
The family at a Pennsyslvania farm
house were kept from church and Sabbath-school
one very stormy Sabbath,
and the boys and girls were anticipating
a long tiresome day, when Uncle
Ned came to the rescue with the list of
questions below. Bibles were brought
out, and the search for answers kept
them all busy and interested a large
part of the day. Perhaps some of our
young people would like to look for
them too:
1. Where does the Bible speak of
boys and girls playing in the streets ?
2. Who cut a book into pieces with
a penknife and threw the leaves into
the fire?
3. What young man went to sleep
and fell out of a window while at a
preaching service ? 5 .
4. What news did the first carrier
i and without, with his name ana tiles,
and proved that beyond question,
hat through haste or carelessness, the
lersons who effected the removal in
795, had carried away the body of
)iego, the son of Columbus, and that
he remains of the great admiral now
est beneath the Cathedral of San Dolingo.
AMONG STRANGERS.
To correctly estimate the real worth,
here is nothing like getting away
rom home and being thrown upon
ne's own resources among entire
trangers.
The friends among whom a man has
een reared are rarely ever capable of
udging him fairly. They either critiise
him unjustly, or overestimate his
rorth. The stranger views him with
inprejudiced eyes; he perceives his
Dibles, is cognizant of his faults, and
las no knowledge of latent virtue,
vhich might make him slow to conlemu
and ready to excuse. The wise
raveler comprehends this, and, not benuse
he is a hypocrite, but because it
s required of him, is on his good belavtor.
He "minds his manners" and
lis speech. He is courteous to hia frlj
ow-travelers, and his self-conceit (fiainishes
rapidly. He realizes that he
s not so perfect as his injudicious
riends have led him to imagine. He
>ecomes aware of his limitations, and,
nstead of an indispensable member of
ociety, realizes that he is only a small
raction thereof. Perhaps this is the
eason such delightful people are to be
bund upon cars and boats and in
lotels and wherever else tourists most
lo congregate.
They may be divided into two geniral
classes?those who have traveled
ittle, and those who have traveled a
:ood deal. Unless he is a hopeless
jynic and malcontent, the traveled
>erson is like those little pebbles
vhich are to be found upon the seaihore.
They have been tossed about,
o and fro, back and forth, until all
heir angularities have been worn
iway, and if not brilliantly polished, a
jood deal of smoothing down has been
iccomplished. He has learned to be
iffable, patient and forbearing. The
nodel traveler is the product of time
ind experience. He has had to
ierve a long and exacting appreniceship.
When he has spent a certain
lumber of years deploring the trains
ie has missed, anathematizing the
runks that will get lost, the boats that
ire delayed?an evolutionary period
narked by much whinning and groanng
and scolding?he at last achieves
esignatiou.
He has learned that these arc unavoidable
incidents, the bitter to be
.wallowed with the sweet. The unpleasant
things attendant upon tripling
are finally expected, as a matter |
if course, and the good fortune is received
as a special manifestation of
Providence.
There are, perhaps, a few who can
never be improved, at least in the
brief span of this mortal existence,
rhe experienced know them at a
glance. They go with a limp, dejected
gait; their eyes are dull and
languid, their voice is fretful and nothing
pleases or interests.
"IjrOOU," US xeiuiysuii iviuiu in ino
optimistic days, is really to be the
'final goal of ill," then the poor souls
have many leagues to journey before
they reach that blissful destination.
THE EVlVoF HASTE.
There are few things worse for any
one's mentality, or for one's achievement,
than this wild breathless hurry?
liurry to be dressed so that nothing is
put on properly; hurry to be through
reading, so that nothing is received
into mind or memory; hurry to reach
i place to the point of tripping and
Tailing; hurry to be over with a meal,
to the point of choking and of incurable
indigestion ; hurry at work till the
lingers are all thumbs, and nothing is
[lone as it should be done; hurry to
bed, too tired to sleep, even the dreams
it last hurrying; haunted by huddling
visions of purposes not to be carried
jut. Is it a marvel that such a one
who is always hurrying, never succeeds
in reaching success, or anything
else, indeed, but shattered nerves and
ruined health ? And the effect of
this hurry on other people, meanwhile,
is nn injurious one; other hearts
with that one beat more quickly, and
breaths are short and circulations disordered
; it is contagious-, it begets restlessness,
it is vexatious, it disturbs the
whole atmosphere with bustle and confusion
of thought.
On the other hand, the person who
is the exact opposite of the hurrying
sort, the person whose movements are
always regular, measured, unvarying,
and never-failing, not necessarily slow,
but never taken at a faster rate than
can be maintained throughout, reminding
you of the steady, never-accelerating
movements of a great engine's eccentric
beam, is the one who must always
come oft* a winner in the end.
And all the world about that calm, uuhurrying
person receives some of the
calm, and is refreshed as if by a gracious
balm, by the unshaped conviction
amounting to instinct that nothing
here is begun that will not be finished
coolly and quietly, without
strain or discomfort, and is content to
[jo ulone 111 tiie compamonsnip ui ohu
who, in the language of the day, always
"gets there."?Harper's Bazar.
About Governor Nichols.?Governor
Nichols, of Louisiana, has lost an
arm and a leg, but so deftly have the
artificial members been fitted to the
stumps, that few people are in the secret
of his loss. His colored body servant
was left behind on the occasion
of his last visit to Yicksburg, and at
his disposal during his stay was put
a likely young lad, who was told
to try and take the old body servant's
place. That night, when Governor
Nichols was ready to retire, he stretched
out one of his legs to Ned and said :
"Ned, unscrew that leg." Ned's eyes
began to open with horror, but he
obeyed and took the leg off. Governor
Nichols then said, calmly stretching
out an arm : "Ned, unscrew that arm."
The boy rolled up his eyes until nothing
but the whites could be seen, but
he obeyed and unscrewed the arm.
The governor, who now realized his
condition of mind, determined to have
a little fun with him, so, reaching out
his neck, he said: "Ned, unscrew that
head." But the boy never waited to
see whether his head would come off
or not, and no one succeeded in getting
him to go near Governor Nichols
again.?New York World.
Shades ok Fai.sk Tkktii.?Said a
dentist, recently, referring to the variety
in the shades of false teeth, "I have
in stock teeth ranging in color from
the dark ones suitable for a negro, to
the lightest blonde."
"Dark ones suitable for a negro?"
was tlie response; "I always thought
negroes had the whitest of teeth."
"They appear so by contrast with
the black skin ; but the fact is that negroes'
teeth have a decided greenish
tinge."
If a false tooth of suitable color for a
white man were inserted between a negro's
teeth, the effect, as far appearance
goes, would be worse than no tooth at
all. Not only does the color of false
teeth have to be thus adapted to
different races, but also to different
complexions of the same race. A
good dentist is particular that your
false teeth shall blend with your complexion.
Also seemingly dirty false
teeth are inserted in the mouths of
people whose own teeth, by long neglect,
have become permanently discolored.
pigCVU ?
5. While cutting wood near a river '
a man lost bis axe-head 4n the water. 1
How did he recover it ? 1
6. What man escaped fronj a walled
city while his enemies were watching '
for him at the gates, by being let down 1
from the wall in a basket?
.... J7. On what occasion was * large '
army put to flight by three hundred
men using only lamps, pitchers and 1
trumpets?
8. Who hid some ear-rings under an
oak?
9. Who hid two spies among some ,
stalks of flax upon the roof of her
house ?
10. What little girl was the means ,
of curing a man of leprosy and turning (
him from idolatry to the worship of the
true God.
POTATOES.
The potato is a native of Peru.
?? ? i o i -J.fi-J
When tne ?pamaras nrn visueu me
West coast of South America, they
found this esculent cultivated by the
natives, although it grew naturally in
uncultivated places, wherever a sufficient
degree of moisture enabled the
plant to live. Tradition has it that It
was on the top of Mt. San Lorenzo,
the islaud in the harbor of Calloa,
where the Spaniards found the first potatoes,
and from whence they took the
seed to Europe. I have seen the plant
as it grows wild on San Lorenzo, and I
could hardly recognize it. It was
about six inches high, with delicate
little vines and a pretty blue blossom
scarcely larger than a violet, while the
potato on the roots below was no larger
than a hazel nut. From this insignificant
plant has been evolved, by cultivation,
the numerous family of the
potato, which, within three hundred
years, has made its way to every part
of the civilized world, and now forms
an important item in the world's bill
of fare.
I watched a few days since a company
of laborers at work digging potatoes
in a field in the valley of the Bimac.
A team of oxen ploughed up
the hills with, a light plow, leaving the
tubers exposed on the ground. Six Indian
workmen picked up the potatoes
and carried them to a pile in one corner
of the field, while the overseer, a Spaniard,
stood watching the work. The
men who were picking up the potatoes
had neither pail nor bag nor box in
which to carry them. Two of them
put the potatoes in their hats, and the
others carried them in their hands,
each one going from every part of the
field to the pile in one corner, carrying
five or six potatoes each trip.?Consular
Report.
An American Engineer in Mexico.?On
the tramway between the
towns of Zacatecas and Guadalupe, in
Mexico, which are a few miles apart,
the way from Zacatecas is down grade.
The cars go at great speed by their
own gravitation; no animals are attached,
for the descent is as steep as a
toboggan slide. It requires six mules,
however, to draw each car back again.
The animals are harnessed three
abreast, like the horses in the Paris
omnibuses. Even the projectors of the
tramway had no fixed idea as to how
it should be operated, and an American
overseer has been in charge from
the beginning. The care were ordered
from Philadelphia, and while they
were being built, the steel rails, which
came from Liverpool by way of Vera
Cruz, were laid down from one end of
the route to the other. When the care
arrived, it was found that they would
not run on the track, as the rails had
been laid on a guage three inches narrower
than that for which the care
were designed. The Mexicans, in their
ignorance, saw but one way out of the
dilllculty; that was, to rebuild the
cars, make the bodies narrower, and
cut off the axle-trees to fit the gauge of
the rails.
The present superintendent, a practical
American engineer, was in Zaeateeas
at the time, and took in the state
of affaire at a glance. He offered for
five hundred dollars to show the owners
how to get over the trouble without
altering an article on the cars. The
money was paid, and with twenty men
and proper tools, the American took up
a few rods of the track, and made a
gauge for the rest, and in one day had
the care running over the short distance.
The managers of the road at
once put the American in charge, and
he has held the position ever since.
A Cat's Extraordinary Leap.?
In the latter part of 1880, at a time
when the Washington monument had
reached a height of 1(50 feet, an adventurous
and patriotic cat ascended the
interior of the shall by means of ropes
and tubing. When the workmen arrived
at the upper landing the next
morning and began to prepare for the
day's work, pussy took fright and,
springing to the outer edge, took a
"header" of 100 feet to the hard earth
below. In the descent, which was
watched closely by two-score of men,
the cut spread herself out like a Hying
squirrel and alighted on ull fours.
After turning over on the ground a
few times in a dazed manner, she prepared
to leave the grounds and had
gotten almost beyond the shadow of
the monument when a dog belonging
to one of the workmen pounced upon
her and killed her, she, of course, not j
being in her best running trim after j
performing such an extraordinary feat, j
One of the men procured the body of
the dead feline, smoothed out her silky ,
eout, and turned the remains over to a i
representative of the Smithsonian In- i
stitution, who mounted the skin and j
plaeedituudernglassea.se. The label 1
011 the ease tells this wonderful story in j
a few words : "This eat, 011 September
2:3, 1880, jumped from the top of Wash- j
ington's monument and lived."?New [
York Commercial Advertiser.
Ql'KKK I'KN N'SYI.VA NIA JfrtTIOK.? i
A novel sentence has been pronounced
by a justice at Huntingdon, in this I
State. A wife had kissed "another !
manher husband had chastised her
with corporal punishment, and Justice
Kelly, supplying the third act in a
1 * 1- -! tnn 1
(U'ilina llllli:i]l[)ll\ mm IV.U
much fmiuenry in all our courts, gave [
a verdict "that the wife retire to her
usual place of abode, and lock the ;
doors s?> that 110 strangers can he adi
milted for a period of six days; that
j the husband for the same length of
j time hoard with his next door neigh- I
! bor and sleep in the barn, and that
! each party pay half the costs and stand j
committed until the sentence is coin- ,
plied with." Of tho cflicacy of such j
an original judgment there cannot he
much doubt, although a question '
I might he raised on the constitutional
j ground of its being cruel and unusual ,
j punishment?at least for the next
j door neighbor. The usual punish- I
! ment for wife-beating, however, is so i
)f a whipping poet, the result of the
lew departure in dealing with this
iespicable crime deserves careful
watching.?Philadelphia Record.
VST Apropos of Matthew Arnold, it
jeems that his son Mat. had very derided
opinions. One night the boy
leard some one say the moon was
lihde of green cheese. Very quickly
lie said: "I don't believe the moon is
made of green cheese." "Don't you ?"
laid his father. "Why not?" "O,"
said the young gentleman, "I don't
enow why ; but I don't." "Well, for
my part," said his father, "I have no
respect for people who give opinions
for which they can give no reasons."
young Mat. was very much mortified,
ind went off by himself to hide his
feelings. The next morning, as bright
is possible, he greeted his fhther with
this: "I know now why the moon is
aot made of green cheese. I found it
rot in Genesis." "Ah," said Matthew
Arnold, Sr., "you have the advantage
if me; I did not know the subject was
mentioned in Genesis." "O, yes, papa,"
said the boy, "there is an account
of the creation, and the moon waa
made* before there were amy' cows."
So Matthew the younger triumphed
over Matthew the older.
Origin of Long Measure.?Our
measures of length originated in the
dawn of civilization, and came to us
through the Anglo-Saxons. The yard
was originally the length of a king's
arm; the foot, the length of his pedal
extremities. The word inch is derived
from the Latin uncia, a twelfth part;
but why the foot was divided into
tno+An/1 nffant.Hg ni* Alovanthfl
IVVClibUOj uiowuu w? r
do one claims to be wise enough to
tell. It has been suggested that probably
the inch was originally the length
of the second joint of the forefinger,
and that twelve of these equal the length
of the forearm, which averages about
one foot in length. The inch used to
be divided into three "barley-corns,"
which were simply the length of the
grain or "corn" of the barley. The
"mile" was reckoned at 1,000 paces, as
its name shows, from the first word of
the Latin phrase millia passuum, "a
thousand paces." The origin of the
"rod" is doubtful.
9&~ By far the larger part of the
coffee used in the United Stafes comes
from South America. The imports
there amount to more than 525,000,000
pounds annually, of which 69 per cent,
comes from Brazil. The second largest
shipper to this market is Venezuela,
11 per cent. The first cost in this
country averages 10 cents and a fraction
a pound, aggregating $56,347,600.
The first record of production in Brazil
begins with 1870, when 180,000,000
pounds were shipped to the United
States. High-water mark was reached
in 1885, with 400,000,000 pounds of
shipment. One large item of expense
in Brazil is to get coffee to market.
Freight charges as high as 14 cents a
mile have been-paid, which from a distant
plantation to Rio Janeiro, means
$1.75 to $2.50 a sack. The highest
charge from Rio Janeiro to New York
is 65 cents a bag.?St. Louis Republic.
Area of the Counties in South
Carolina.?From the census bulletin
just issued by the Department of tho
Interior, the area of this State in square
miles is as follows: South Carolina:
Gross area, 30,570; water surface, 400;
land surface, 30,170. By counties:
Abbeville, 1,006 ; Aiken, 1,068 ; Anjnmnn
rofl bnnill'oll 1 21 4 ? rpau
UC/iOVll) UWV J A/Wtunvwj . ? J
fort, 967; Berkeley, 1,742; Charleston,
793; Chester, 570; Chesterfield, 986;
Clarendon, 664; Colleton, 1,920; Darlington,
673; Edgefield, 1,852 ; Fairfield,
775; Florence, 578; Georgetown,
742; Greenville, 716; Hampton, 1,141;
Horry, 980; Kershaw, 775; Lancaster,
535; Laurens, 680; Lexington, 780;
Marion, 1,024; Marlboro, 530; Newberry,
600; Orangeburg, 1,400; Oconee,
620; Pickens, 464; Richland, 608;
Spartanburg, 949; Sumter, 870; Union,
660 * Williamsburg, 948 ; York, 750.
VST The grip of an ant's jaw is retained
even after the body has been
bitten off and nothing but the head remains.
This knowledge is possessed
by a certain tribe of Indians in Brazil,
who put the ants to a very peculiar
use. When an Indian gets a gash
cut in his hand, instead of having his
hand sewed together as physicians do
in this country, he procures five or
six large black ants, and, holding
their heads near the gash, they bring
their jaws together in biting the flesh,
and thus pull the two sides of the gash
together. Then the Indian pinches
oft' the bodies of the ants, and leaves
them clinging to the gash, which is
held together until the gash Is perfectly
healed.?Medical Record.
S?T The hour before falling asleep at
night is one of the most important of
the twenty-four. The reading or conversation
of that hour usually takes a
deeper hold on the mind than that of
any other. Long passages may be
easily memorized by reading them
over carefully several times during the
last waking hour. They appear to
imbed themselves in the mind while
it rests in sleep. The impressions
parents leave on the minds of their
children at night have much to do
with the formation of their characters.
Punishments inflicted at that season
sometimes loosen the bonds which
bind the hearts of children to their
homes, while kind words and affectionate
counsels, given at that hour, often
prove a savor of life unto life.
fikir The most perilous hour of a person's
life is when he is tempted to despond.
The man who loses his courage,
loses all; there is no more hope of
him than of a dead man. But?it
matters not how poor he may be, how
much pushed by circumstances, how
much deserted by friends, how much
lost to the world?if he only keeps his
courage, holds up his head and, with
unconquerable will, determines to be
and to do what becomes a man, all will
1 1' T4 - - ? .-,(/]a A#1 KSm
I)C WC11. 11 IS IIUIIIIII? omnmi; ui jiiui
that kills; it is what is within that
makes or not makes.
SaT To every 1,000,000 whites in
this country there are 500 convicts.
To every 1.000,000 blacks there are
2,000 convicts. One in every 120
adult male negroes is a convict. This
is a fearful showing for the colored
people, but it cannot be set down to
an unfair discrimination in the South.
In some Northern States, one in every
twenty-five adult male negroes is a
convict. New York has eighty-live
negro convicts to every 10,000 of colored
population, while Mississippi has
only six to every 10,000.
Thk Collie.?The name "collie,"
used for the Scotch sheep dog, takes
rise not from any peculiarity of breed
in the dog. but from the kind of sheep
he once drove. In Scotland there was
a class of sheep with black faces and
legs called "collies," from the AngloSaxon
"col," signifying black. The
dogs which looked after those slieep
were collie dogs, which in time became
shortened to "collies;" hence the name
which the sheep dog now bears.
flnT A stalwart young man at Leavenworth,
Kau., recently accepted a
wager that he could not stand a quart
of water dropped into his open hand
drop by drop, from a height of three
feet. Before 500 drops had fallen into
his hand, he almost cried with pain
and said he had enough. After a little
water had fallen each drop seemed
to crush his hand. A blister in the
center of it was the result.?Boston
Journal.