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lewis m. obist, proprietor.! Jiulcpciulcnt .jftmiilij llciuipaper: ",c. |)romolio? of the golittal, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Jnterests of the ?outh. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. vr?t. afl. YORKVILLE, S. O, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 80, 1898. 3STO. So. Waring; BY CAPT. CHAR] [Copyright, l&W l?y J. H. Lippinoott A* Co VIL Forty-eight hours had passed, and not a trace had been found of Lieut. Waring. The civil officers of the law had held grave converse with the seniors on duty at the barracks, and Cram's face was lined with anxiety and trouble. The formal inquest was held as the flood subsided, and the evidence of the post surgeon was most important. About the throat of the murdered man were mauoiiaoie mams of violence. The skin was torn as by j finger-nails, the flesh bruised and discolored as by fiercely-grasping fingers. But death, said the doctor, was caused by the single stab. Driven downward with savage force, a sharp-pointed, I two-edged, straight-bladed knife had pierced the heart, and all was over in I an instant. One other wound there I was, a slashing cut across the stomach, which had let a large amount of blood, but might possibly not have been mortal. What part the deceased had taken in the struggle could only be conjee tured. A little five-cbambeFed revolver i which he habitually carried was found on the floor close at hand. Two charges ! had been recently fired, for the barrel was black with powder; but no one had heard a shot. The barkeeper at the Pelican could throw but little light on the matter. The storm had broken, he said, with sudden fury. The rain dashed in torrents against his western front, and , threatened to beat in the windows. He called to two men who happened to be j seated at a table to assist him, and ^*as busy trying to get up the shutters, , when Lieut. Doj'lo joined them and j rendered timely aid. He had frequently : seen Doyle during the previous month, j Mrs. Doyle lived in the old Lemaitre house in the block below, and he often supplied them with whisky. They J drank nothing but whisky. _ As they ran in the side door they were surprised to see the lights of a carriage standing at the edge of the banquette, and the j driver begged for shelter for his team, saying some gentlemon had gone in- j side. The barkeeper opened a gate, and the driver put his horses under a i shed in a paved court in the rear, then came in for a drink. Meantime, said j the barkeeper, whose name was Bonelli, three gentlemen who were j laughing over their escape from the storm had ordered wine and gone into j a private room, Doyle with them. The only one he knew was M. Lascelles, though he had seen one of the others fr?nnent.1v rk he rode bv. and knew him to be an officer before Mr. Doyle slapped him on the back and hailed i him as "Sammy, old buck!" or something1 like that. Mr. Doyle had been l drinking, and the gentleman whispered to him not to intrude just then, and evidently wanted to get rid of him, but M. Lascelles, who had ordered the wine, demanded to be introduced, and would take no denial, and invited Mr. Doyle to join them, and ordered more wine. And then Bonelli saw that Lascelles himself was excited by drink ?the first time he had ever noticed it in the year he had known him. The third gentleman he had never seen before, and could only say he was dark and sallow and did not talk, except to j urge the driver to make haste,?they must go on; but he spoke in a low tone with Mr. Lascelles as they went to the room, and presently the rain I seemed to let up a little, though it blew hard, and the driver went out and looked around and then returned to the private room where the gentlemen were having their wine, and there . was some angry talk, and he came out in a few minutes, very mad; said he wouldn't be hired to drive that party any farther, or any other party, for that matter; that no carriage could go down the levee; and then he got out o *\A Vkflolr tA +/~VTT7r? D TI/1 UIO t^OUl UUVi V* V W?*V? KV | then Bonelli could hear sounds of al- j tercation in the room, and Mr. Doyle's voice, very angry, and the strange gentleman came out, and one of the men who'd been waiting said he had a cab, , if that would answer, and he'd fetch it right off, and by the time he got back it was raining hard again, and he took his cab in under the shed where the carriage had been, and a couple of soldiers from the barracks then came in, wet and cold, and begged for a drink, and Bonelli knew one of them, called Dawson, and trusted him, as he often . had done before. When Dawson heard Lieut. Doyle's drunken voice he said there'd be trouble getting him home, and he'd better fetch Mrs. Doyle, and while he was gone Lascelies came out, excited, and threw down a twentydollar bill and ordered more Krug and some brandy, and there was still loud talk, and when Bonelli carried in the bottles Doyle was sitting back in a chair, held down by the other officer, who was laughing at him, but, nevertheless, had a knife in hand?a long, sharp, two-edged knife?and Doyle was calling him names, and was very drunk, and soon after they all went out into the rear court, and Doyle made more noise, and the cab drove away around the corner, going down tho levee through the pouring rain, one man on the box with the driver. That was the last he saw. Then Mrs. Doyle came in mad, and demanded her husband, and they found him reeling about the dark court, swearing and muttering, and Dawson and she took him off between them. This must have been before eleven o'clock; and that was absolutely all he knew. Then Mr. Allerton had told his story again, without throwing the faintest light on- the proceedings, and the hackdriver was found, and frankly and fully told his: that Lascelles and another gentleman hired him about eight o'clock to drive them down to the former's place, which they said was several squares above the barracks. lie said that he would have to charge them eight dollars such a night anywhere below the old cotton-press, where the pavement ended, llut then they had delayed starting nearly an hour, and took another gentleman with them,and that when driven by the storm to shelter at the Pelican saloon, three squares below where the pavement ended, and he asked for his money, saying ho dare go no farther in the darkness and the flood, the Frenchman wouldn't pay, because he hadn't taken them all the way. lie pointed out that he had to bring another gentleman and had to wait a long time, and demanded his eight dollars. The other gentleman, whom he found to be one of the officers at the barracks, slipped a bill into his hand and said it was all he had left, and if it wasn't enough he'd pay him the next time he came to town. Hut the others were very angry, and called him an Irish thief, and then the big soldier in uniform said lie wouldn't have a man abused because ho was Irish, and Lieut. Waring, as he understood the name of this other officer to be, told him, the witness, to slip out and say no more, that he'd fix it all right, and that was the lust he saw of the party, but he heard loud words and the sound of a scuffle as lie drove away. And Mme. d'llervilly hnd given her testimony, which, translated, was to this effect: She had known the deceased these twenty years. lie had hoAn In the emDlov of her lamented husband, who died of the fever in '55, and monsieur had succeeded to the business, and made money, and owned property in town, besides the old family residence on the levee below, lie .was wedded to Emilio only a little while before the war, and lived at home all throuch. but business lan s Peril. ? LES KING, U. S. A. and jnililisliod liy special arrangement.1 guished then, they had to contrilmto much, and his younger brother, M. Philippe, had cost him a great deal. Philippe was an officer in the zouaves raised in 1SG1 among the French Crennil mnrrdirwl wit.li tllf'in t.O Po lumbus, and was wounded and came home to be nursed, and Emilie took care of him for weeks and months, and then he went back to the war and fought bravely, and was shot again and brought home, and this time M. Lacelles did not want to have him down at the house; he said it cost too much to get the doctors down thciv; so he came under Madame's roof, and she was very fond of the boy, and Emilie would come sometimes and plaj* and sing for him. When the war was over M. Lascelles gave him money to go to Mexico with Maximilian, and when the French were recalled many deserted and came over to New Orleans, and M. Lascelles was making very little money now, and had sold his town property, and he borrowed money of her to help, as he said, Philippe again, who came tp visit him, and he was often worried by Philippe's letters begging for money. Seven thousand dollars now he owed her, and onlj- last week had asked for more. Philippe was in Key West to buy an interest in some cigar business. M. Lascelles said if he could raise three thousand to reach Philippe this week they would all make money, but Emilie begged her not to, she was afraid it would all go, and on the very day before he was found dead he camo to see her in the afternoon on Rampart street, and Emilie had told her of Mr. Waring's kindness to her and to Nin Nin, and how she never could have got up after being dragged into the mud by that drunken cabman, "and she begged me to explain the matter to her husband, who was a little vexed with her because of Mr. Waring." But he spoke only about the money, and did not reply about Mr. Waring, except that he would see him and make proper acknowledgment of his civilit}'. He seemed to think only of the money, and said Philippe had written again and must, have help, and lie was angry at Emilie because she would not urge with him, and Emilie wept, and he went away in anger, saying he had business to detain him in town until morning, when he would expect her to be ready to return with him. ' Much of thistestimony was evoked by pointed queries of the officials, who seemed somewhat familiar with Lascelles' business and family affairs, and who then declared that they must question the stricken widow. Ilarsh and unfeeling as this may have seemed, there were probably reasons which atoned for it. She came in on the arm of the old family physician, looking like a drooping flower, with little Nin Kin clinging to her hand. She was so shocked and stunned that slie could barely answer the questions put to her with all courtesy and gentleness of manner. No, she had never heard of any quarrel between M. Lascelles and his younger brother. Yes, Philippe had been nursed by her through his wounds. She was fond of Philippe, but not so fond as was her husband. M. Lascelles would do anything for Philippe, deny himself anything al,most. Asked if M. Lascelles had not given some reason for his objection to Philippe's being nursed at his house when he came home the second time,; she was embarrassed and distressed. She said Philippe was an impulsive boy, fancied himself in love with his brother's wife, and Armand saw something of this, and at last upbraided him, but very gently. There was no quarrel at all. Was there anyone whom M. Lascelles had been angered with on her account? She knew of none, but blushed, and blushed painfully. Had the deceased not recently objected to the attentions paid her by other gen tiemenv 'mere was a murmur 01 reproach among the hearers, but madame answered unflinchingl}', though with painful blushes and tears. M. Lascellcs had said nothing of disapproval until very recently; au contraire, ho had much liked Mr. Waring. He was the only one of the officers at the barracks whom he had ever invited to the house, and he talked with him a great deal; had never, even to her, spoken of a quarrel with him, because Mr. Waring had been so polite to her, until within a week or two; then?yes, he certainly had. Of her husband's business affairs, his papers, etc., she knew little. lie always had certain moneys, though not large sums, with all his papers, in the drawers of his cabinet, and that they should be in 60 disturbed a state was not unusual. They were all in order, closed and locked, when ho started lor town the morning of that fatal day, but he often left them open and in disorder, only then locking his library door. When she left for town two hours after hirn, the library door was open, also the side-window. She could throw no light on the tragedy. She had no idea who the stranger could be. She had not seen Philippe for nearly a year, and believed him to be at Key West. Alphonse, the colored boy, was so terrified by the tragedy and by his detention under the same roof with the murdered man that his evidence was only dragged from him. Nobody suspected the poor fellow of complicity in the crime, j et he seemed to consider himself as on trial. He swore lie had entered the library only once during the afternoon or evening, and that' was to close the shutters when the storm broke. He left a lamp burning low in the hau, according to custom, though ho felt sure his master and mistress would remain in town over night rather than attempt to come down. Lie had slept soundly, as negroes will, despite the gale and the roar of the rain that drowned ull other noise. It was late the next morning when his mother called him. The old mammy was frightened to see the front gate open, the deep water in the streets, and the muddy footprints on the veranda. She called Alphonse, who found that ljis master must have come in during the night, after all, for the lamp was taken from the hall table, the library door was elosed and locked, so was the front door, also barred within, which it had not been when he went to bed. He tapped at the library, got no answer, so tiptoed to his master's bedroom; it was empty and undisturbed. Neither had madumc nor Mile. N'ir. If in been to their rooms. Then he was troubled, and then the soldeirs came and called him out into the rain. They could tell the rest. Cram's story is already told, and ho could add nothing'. The oflieials tried to draw the batteryman out as to tlie relations existing between Lieut. Waring and madame, but got badly "bluffed." Cram said lie had never seen anything in the faintest degree worthy of comment. Had he heard anything? Yes, but nothing worthy of consideration, much less of repetition. Had he not loaned Mr. Waring his team and carriage to drive madame to town that morning? No. llow did he get it then? Took it! Was Mr. Warii.g in the habit of helping himself to the property of his brother officers? Yes, whenever he felt like it. for they never objected. The legal i official thought such spirit of camaraderie in the light artillery must make life at the barracks something almost poetic, to which Cram responded: "Oh, at times absolutely idyllic." And the tilt ended with the givil functionary ruffled, and this was 1 bad for the battery. Cram never had any policy whatsoever. Lieut. Doyle was the next witness summoned, and a more God-forsakenlooking fellow never sat in a shell jacket. Still in arrest, physically, at the beck of old Draxton, and similarly hampered, intellectually, at the will of bold John Barleycorn, Mr. Doyle came before the civil authorities only upon formal subpoena served at post headquarters. The post surgeon had straightened him up during the day, but was utterly perplexed at his condition. Mrs. Doyle's appearance in the neighborhood some weeks before had been the signal for a series of sprees on the Irishman's part that had on two occasions so prostrated him that Dr. Potts, an acting assistant surgeon, ! had been called in to prescribe for him, and, thanks to the vigorous conj stitution of his patient, had pulled him out iu a few hours, nut tms time "Pills the Less" had found Doyle in a state bordering1 on terror, even when assured that the quantity of his potaI tions had not warranted an approach to tremens. The post surgeon had been called in too, and "Pills the I'itij less," as he was termed, thanks to his unfailing prescription of quinine and blue mass in the shape and size of buckshot, having no previous acquaintance, in Doyle, with these attacks, pooh-poohed the ease, administered bromides and admonition in due proportion, and went off about more im' portant business. Dr. Potts, however, stood by his big patient, wondering what should cause him to start in such terror at every step upon the stair without, and striving to bring sleep to eyes that had not closed the livelong night nor all the balmy, beautiful day. Once he asked if Doyle wished him to send for his wife, and was startled at the vehemency of the reply: "For God's sake, noltf and, shuddering, Doyle had hidden his face and turned j away. Potts got him to cat something towards noon, and Doyle begged for more drink, but was refused. lie was sober, yet shattered, when Mr. Drake j suddenly appeared just about stablecall and bade him repair at once to the presence of thb commanding officer, j Then Potts had to give him a drink, or he would never have got there. With the aid of a servant lie was dressed, and, accompanied by the doctor, reached the office. Braxton looked I him over coldly. "Mr. Doyle," said lie, "the civil authorities have made requisition for?" ! Ilut he had got no further when Doj'le | staggered, and but for tho doctor's ! help might have fallen. "For God's sake, colonel, it isn't true! Sure I know nothing of it at all at all, sir. Indade, indade, I was blind dhrunk, colonel. Sure they'd swear a man's life away, sir, just because he was the one?he was the one that?" "Be silent, sir! You are not accused, that I know of. It is as a witness j-ou are needed. Is he in condition to tes tify, doctor?" "lie is well enough, sir, to tell what he knows, but he claims to know nothing." And this, too, Doyle eagerly seconded, but was sent along in the ambulance, with the doctor to keep him out of mischief, and a parting shot to the effect that when the coroner was through with him the post commander would take hold again, so the colonel depressed more than the cocktail stimulated, and, as luck woiild have it, almost the first person to meet him inside the gloomy inclosurc was his wife, and her few whispered words only i added to his misery. The water still lay in pools about the | premises, and the police had allowed certain of his neighbors to stream in and stare at the white walls and shaded windows, but only a favored few penetrated the hallway and rooms where the investigation was being held. Doyle shook like one with the palsy as he ascended the little flight of steps and passed into the open doorway, still accompanied by "Little i Dills." People looked at him with marked curiosity. lie was questioned, requcstioncd, cross-questioned, but the result Was only a hopeless tangle. lie really added nothing to the testimony of the hack driver and Bonclli. In abject remorse and misery he begged them to understand he was drunk when he joined the party, got drunker, dimly remembered there was a quarrel, but he had no cause to quarrel with anyone?and that was all; lie never knew how he got home. He covered his face in his shaking hands at last, and seemed on the vergo of a fit of crying. But then came sensation. Quietl}' rising from his seat, the official who so recently had had the verbal tilt with Cram held forth a rusty, crosslriltcd, two-edged knife that looked as though it might have lnin in the mud and wet for hours. ii.:- v.?_ "J.1UVO you UVt'J' aeeii nu.-i nuuu wtfore?" ho asked. And Doyle, lifting up his eyes one instant, groaned, shuddered, and said: "Oh, my God, yes!" "Whoso property is it or was it?" At first lie would not reply. lie moaned and shook. At last: "Sure,the initials are on the top," he cried. But the official was relentless. "Tell us what they are and what they represent." 1'eople were crowding the hallway and forcing themselves into the room. Cram and Ferry, curiously watching their ill-starred comrade, had exchanged glances of dismay when the knife was so suddenly produced. Now they bent breathlessly forward. The silence for the moment was oppressive. "If it's the knife I mane," he sobbed at last, desperately, miserably, "the letters are S. 15. W., and it belongs to Lieut. Waring of our bathcry." But no questioning, however adroit, could elicit from him the faintest information as to how it got there. The last time he remembered seeing it, he said, was on Mr. Waring's table the morning of the review. A detective testified to having found it among the bushes under the window as the water receded. Ferry and the miserable Ananias were called, and they, too, hud to identify the knife, and admit that neither had seen it about the room since Mr. Waring left for town. Of other witnesses called, came first the proprietor of the stable to which the cab belonged. Horse and cab, he said, covered with mud, were found under a shed two blocks below the French market, and the only thing in the cab I was a handsome silk umbrella. London make, which Lieut. Fierce laid claim to. Mrs. Doyle swore that as she was . going in search of her husband she met the cab just below the Pelican, driving furiously away, and that in the Hash of lightning she recognized the driver as the man whom Lieut. Waring had beaten that morning on the levee in front of her place. A stranger was seated beside him. There were two gentlemen inside, but she saw the face of only one?Lieut. Waring. Nobody else could throw any light on the matter. The doctor, recalled, declared the knife or dagger was shaped exact lv as would have to be the one that gave the death Mow. Everything pointed to the fact that there had been a struggle, a deadly encounter, and that after the fatal work was done the murderer or murderers had left the doors locked and barred and escaped through the window, leaving' the desk rifled and carrying away what money there was, possibly to convey the idea that it was only a vulgar murder and robbery after all. Of other pers'ons who might throw light upon the tragedy the following were missing: Lieut. Waring, Private Dawson, the cabman, and the unrecognized stranger. So, too, was Anatolo's boat. VIII. When four days and nightshad passed j away without a word or sign from War ' ing, the garrison had come to the con elusion that those officers or men o Battery "X" who still believed him in noccnt were idiots. So did tho civi authorities; but those were days whci the civil authorities of Louisiana com manded loss respect from its educate* people than did even the military The police force, like the state, weri undergoing a process called recon struction, which might have beci impressive in theory, but was ri ' diculous in practice. A reward ha* been offered by business associate: of the deceased for the capture anc conviction of the assassin. A distan relative of old Lascellcs had come t< take charge of the place until M. Phil ippc should arrive. The letter's address had been found among old Arraand'i nancrs. and dispatches, via Havana had been sent to him, also letters Pierre tVIIcrvilly had taken the weep ing widow and little Nin Xin to bonn< maman's to stay. Alphonse and hit woolly-pated mother, true to negrt superstitions, had decamped. Nothing would induce them to remain undei the roof where foul murdr^j had beer done. "Be hahnts" was what they wen afraid of. And so the old white home stead, though surrounded on every sidi by curiosity seekers and prying eyes was practically deserted. Cram wen about his duties with a heavy hear and light aid. Ferry and Pierce hot! commanded section snow, as Doyle re mained in close arrest and "Pills th< Less" in close attendance. Something was utterly wrong with the fellow Mrs. Doyle had not again ventured U show her red nose within the limits o ' the "bars," as she called them, a hin from Braxton having proved sufficient but that she was ever scouting thi pickets no one could doubt. Morn noon and night she prowled about tin neighborhood, employing the "byes,' so she termed such stray sheep in arm^ blue as a dhropof Anatole's bestwouk tempt, to carry scawling notes to Jim one of which, falling with its postmai by the wayside and turned over by th< guard to Capt. Cram for transmittal was addressed to Mister Loot'nt Jamei Doyle, Lite Bothery X, Jaxun Barx and brought the only laughter to hii lips the big horse artilleryman hat known for nearly a week. Her cus tomary Mercury, Dawson, had vanishec from sight, dropped, with many an other and often a better man, as a de serter. Over at Waring's abandoned quarter the shades were drawn and the greei jalousies bolted. Pierce stole in eael day to sec that cvcr}'thing, even to th< augmented heap of letters, was undis turbed, and Ananias drooped in th< court below and refused to be comfort ed. Cram had duly notified Waring*! relatives, now living in New York, o: his strange and sudden disappearance Vvn* mn/ln r\r\ mnnfmn r\f fVia almiH /V suspicion which had surrounded hii , 'name. Meantime, some legal friend* of the family were overhauling tin Lascelles papers, and a dark-complex ioncd, thick-set, active little civiliai was making frequent trips betwcei the department headquarters and bar racks. At the former lie compare* notes with Lieut. Reynolds, and at tin latter with Braxton and Cram. Tin last interview Mr. Allerton had befori leaving with his family for the nortl was with this same lively party, the de tective who joined them that night a the St. Charles, and Allerton, being i man of much substance, had tapped hi pocketbook significantly. "The difficult}' just now is in havinf a talk with the widow," said this offi | cial to Cram and Reynolds, whom h* had met by appointment on the Thurs day following the eventful Saturday of Braxton's "combined" review. "Sin is too much prostrated. I've sirapl} got to wait awhile, and meantime g< about this other affair. Is there n< way in which you can see her?" Cram relapsed into a brown study Reynolds was poring over the noti written to Braxton and comparing i with one he held in his hand?ai old one, and one that told an old, ol< story. "I know you'll say I have n< right to ask this," it read, "but you'n a gentleman and I'm a friendless worn an deserted by a worthless husband My own people arc ruined by tlife war but even if they had money thei wouldn't send an}* to me, for I offend ed them all by marrying a Yankee offi cer. God knows I am punished enougl for that. But I was so young and inno " cent when he courted me. I ought t< of left?I would of left him as soon a I found out how good-for-nothing hi really was, only I was so much in lovi I couldn't. I was fastenated, I suppose Now I've sold everything, but if you'l only lend me fifty dollars I'll work nr fingers to the bone until I pay it. Fo: the old home's sake, please do." "It-'e the name hnrul?the same worn an, Cram, beyond a doubt. She blei Waring for the old home's sake th< first winter he was in the south. IT< told me all about it two years ago ir Washington, when we heard of her tin second time, Now she's followed hin over here, or got here first, tried th< same game probably, met with a re fusal, and this anonymous note is hei revenge. The man she married was i crack-brained weakling who got int< the army the fag end of the war, fcl in love with her pretty face, marrie( her, then they quarreled and he dranl himself into a muddle-head. She rai him into debt; then he gambled awa; government funds, bolted, was caught and would have been tried and sent ti jail, but some powerful relative save< him that, and simply had him droppe< ?never heard of him again. She wa about a month grass-widowed whei Waring came on his first duty there lie had an uncongenial lot of brothe officers for a two-company post, an< ' really had known of this girl and he: people before the war, and she ap pealed to him. first for sympathy tint help, then charity, then blackmail, reckon, from which his fever savei him. Then site struck some quarter master or other and lived oiT him fo awhile; drifted over here, and no soon or did he arrive, all ignorant of he presence in or around New Orleans than she began pestering him again When he turned a deaf ear, she prob ably threatened, and then came thes< anonymous missives to you and Brax ton. Yours always came by mail, yoi say. The odd thing about the colonel1 ? this one, tit least?is that it was wit! his mail, but never came through tlr post office." "That's all very interesting," sail the little civilian, dryly, "but what w want is evidence to acquit him and cor vict somebody else of Lasccllcs' death What lias this to do with the other?" "This much: This letter came t Braxton by hand, not by mail?b; hand, probably direct from her. Wha hand had access to the office the da; when the whole command was out a review? Certainly no outsider. Th mail is opened and distributed on it arrival at nine o'clock by the chic clerk, or by the sergeant major, if h happens to be there, though lie's gen .orally at guard mount. On this occc sion he was out at review. Lear^ 1 chief clerk, tells Col. Braxton he openei and distributed the mail, putting th colonel's on his desk; Boot was wit' him and helped. The third clerk cam in later; had been out all night, driub ing. His name is Dawson. I)awso: goes out again and gets fuller, an' when next brought home is put in bos pital under a sentry. Then lie hear of the murder, bolts, and isn't hear from since, except as the man wh helped Mrs. Doyle to get her hnsban home, lie is the fellow who brough that note, lie knew something of it contents, for the murder terrified hirr and lie ran away. Find his trail, an you strike that of the woman wh wrote these." "Jly the Lord, lieutenant, if you'] quit the army and take my place you'] make a name and a fortune." I "And if you'll quit your place an take mine you'll pet your coup d ' grace iu some picayune Indian %h " ' and be forgotten. So stay where yon j ' are: but find Dawson, tind her, find what they know, and you'll be famous." i 1 [to hk oontini:ki> xkxt wkkk.]' i Ittisfdliincous jSfatlinj). ; THE DUTY OF THE DAY j 1 REV. THOMAS DIXON'S LAST SERMON ! ,S AT CHARLES CITY. ; } Fulfillment of the Too Greut Cominiinilnirnts, Love to God nml Love to Man, 3 ' Will Solve All Financial and All Social j i I'rohlciiiK. , Care Charles, Va., Aug. 27.?Rev. i Thomas Dixon, Jr., preached today the 3 last of the summer series of sermons on 3 j the "Problems of Money." He will re- I > turn to New York next Sunday and ? take up the work again in Association ! r j hall. The text today was, John xiii, 34, j f "A new commandment I give unto you, J that ye love one another, even as I have i * ' loved you." 2 There is one sense in which we are too * familiar with tho Bible. We are lrnrd' ened to it. In my college days we 1 were forced to attend preaching services ! 1 ] on Sunday, and consequently upon my j [ mind preaching made not the slightest " j impression. The sound was too familiar i ' ?unpleasantly familiar. I knew the j j theme in one sense too well?in a real * j sense, not at all. t tiih 11idle too familiar. . ; A Boston woman lay dying in a hos2 pital, and the nurse was reading to her t from tho New Testament. She read the | 3 sermon on the mount. To her surprise ; > the woman looked up and asked her j r . who wrote that book, "That is a j 1 wonderful book! It will make its , author famous." We need to hear the I i i word of God, it seems to me, some- j 3 times as this poor woman heard it for ; , the first time. We need to take it lit- | s erally, to hear it thus and to believe that j , its message is a real one to us. s The two great commandments that 1 sum up the duties of life, love to God j and love to man?love to God through ^ love to man?how familiar we are with them, and yet how little we really know of them. And yet it is in the fulfillment of this simple law of Christianity that ; 3 | we shall find the solution to tho great 1 financial and social problem that presses I 1 now upon us for solution. The literal fulfillment of this, tho great est commandment, is the pressing duty ! 5 of today. Obedience to it means the j solution of the problem of the ages, of ! the salvation of tho race, because: First?Love is the fulfillment of the j ^ law. It fulfills the negations of the law. | Love worketh no ill to its neighbor; | } therefore no man who loves his fellow i a man can enter upon any business that . j can result to the injury of his neighbor. 1 JUSTICE IS LOVE, i At the touch of the fulfillment of this law every gambling business, every sa- 1 1 , loon and dive and brothel and question2 ; able resort must-perish. 2 j Love cannot be unjust. 2 The master who loves his servant gets i from him the very highest service. Tho general who commands the love of his j t j soldiers gets the very highest order of ! 1 soldier. Tho master who wins the love ; s of his servant is just to him. The gen- i ; eral who wins the love of his soldier is a j ? j just general. j Love seeks not simply its own, but tho 3- i good of another. He who seeks the good of another can- i not destroy another in the process of at- | 3 tabling his own good. Love cannot take , r' advantage of misfortune. At the breath j 5 j of love in tho business world the bar- I 2 j gain counter must disappear, and our j i taking advantage of our neighbor's neces- ! ! sities to drive a hard bargain must be ! 2 relegated to the age of barbaric compe- i ' j tition. Every bargain counter is a proc- I J ! Imitation that somebody has failed; that j j some factory is closed; that somebody j 5 ; who dreamed fair dreams of prosperity i s and of success had a broken heart and a broken life. ? j Love is tho fulfillment of the positive ' ! commands as well as the negative ele- ; _ | meats of law. It makes us to study ! i and to know each other. Ignorance and j ' | indifference are impossible if our hearts j are engaged. We do not know each ; 3 other. If we really loved our fellow I s 1 man, we would mako it our business to j a i know him. It is difficult for us to sac- j , rifice for those we do not know. I.OVE AND TREASURE. 1 j A preacher struggled to raise a collec- ! ^ i tion tor tuo neacnen during me ?m m r his church. Tlicre was little or no re- ; , spouse. While in the pulpit he received j _ . a telegram from the seat of war an- 1 j ! nouncing a terrible battle, giving a fear3 ful list of the dead and wounded, call3 j ing immediately for supplies, for nurses, ! i i for lint, for food, for bandages and phy; 1 sicians and for money to supply all j i these needs. They passed around the ; contribution box, and it came back load , ed?piled with money and with jewels. | r. | They took their rings from their fingers. | i i Women took their earrings from their j > ears. They piled them in the basket, I 1 and many of them were wet with tears, t 1 Love fulfills the positive commands of ! c j the law. If we love, we will sacrifice, j i Love will send us out after the people j 7 ' who need us. It will make principle, i , i not policy, the mainspring of life. Love j in the heart of man for his fellow must 1 j bring obedient action in a thousand hu1 man relations where now there is eter- J s nal conflict and friction. If we leve, we 1 are at one in wills. Christ said, "If ye | love me, keep my commandments." r Second?Love not only fulfills the law, ' 1 I but from the mountain peak of fulfilled ; r . law opens the universe in which to ex- | " 1 pand and to grow. "Love thy neighbor | ' ' as thyself." Higher love than this cannot : | be required of man. Jesus said, "Love : J one another, even as I have loved you." ' For this climax we strive. The highest i r point in the development of love is this j divine climax. His love was matchless, I r because it was the love of jierfect human'' ity. Jesus' greatest discovery was him- j Tim 7nn?f. innrvelons revelation i " ! he made to the world was of his ' >t ! deep knowledge of the Father found j within his own great soul. But [ he buried self. He saved others. l Himself he could not save. He threw e his life away in the briefest possible ministry. He was tender of the smallest 1 ( needs of those who were about him. He c had compassion upon the multitude lest h they faint by the wayside. He fed them [. last they should be overborne with wearij ness as they returned to the city. When i o his disciples were wearied with work, y ; he said to them, "Come ye apart and rest ' t : awhile." And in his last hour of helpy lessncss and of excruciating pain and of j t. soul darkness on the cross his final e thought was not of himself, but of the s sorrowing mother who stood by the j f cross. Her he commended to the loved i o ! disciple. i- In spite of faults, of desertion, of de- | | nial, of unfaithfulness and of cruelty he '> i loved them. The pharisecs hated him. d | The common people professed allegiance, ! e ! Judas to be his disciple, Peter swore ! h I that he would never desert him, and yet e I all alike were found with scribe and I pharisee in the end. The common poo- ! n pie cried, "Crucify him!" Judas be- ! d trayed him, and Peter swore he never 1 knew him. Even his loved disciple he ? I found asleep when lie asked that they ; c j watch with him while with anguish of ? i bouI lie prayed in the garden. Tliev all . j forsook him in the hour of his supreme 1 j trial, and yet he died for them. And on I ' | his re1rn after the resurrection not a j (j | single relmke, only a new joy, only ns- ! | surance, only love. Such was the love of Christ. It is U commanded that we shall love men thus (j in vital ways; that we shall hot love j them merely in sentimental ways. We . shall love one another thus in our business relations, in our social relations, in j ^ our political relations. 1 INHUMANITY OF SIN. On what was this divine love based? On the intrinsic divinity and nobility of human life, that it belongs to God, is the utterance of God's life and is in that sense an incarnation of tin; divine. Everything that is not pure and noble is essentially inhuman. It belongs to the lower nature, to the soil. Jesus Christ saw in the vilest of the vile this element of the divine. Hence the love which enwrapped his soul and was the mainspring of his mission. He loved the thief on the cross not for what the thief was, but for what the aspiration of his soul declared him to be capable of. Not for what he had attained, but for what he might attain. Not for his actual character, but for the image of God, in whose form he was fashioned. THE WEAK. So we arc commanded to love tho weak, and the criminal, and the helpless, and the improvident, and the despairing; so we are to hear their burdens in a boundless love that shall include the race; so we should love with a mother's undying hope. And, if humanity cannot reach this ideal, human life must become a starless, orphaned one. Tho capacity of the heart is the measure of the depth of human need. The object may bo all unworthy, but love loves on. So Jesus loved the unworthy. So he ministered unto them. So ho lived for them and died for them. THE POOR ALWAYS WITH l*S. It is this principle that must solve the problem of the poor, who will always he with us. It is this divine aspect of love that makes life as worthy as we find it today even in the midst of sin and of shame and of sorrow. Bill Sykes could slay tho woman who had given everything for him, and yet whilo he slays her, wliilehe brutally beats her from day to day, she crawls back to his den, faithful to that higher, to that holier instinct, which calls in love for sacrifice?sacrifice at all hazards. Love suffereth long and is kind because of the greatness of the heart. If we could only infuse this great thought into the heart of the race, tho problem is solved. A mother recently petitioned the governor of a state for the pardon of a boy. The boy was guilty of the crime for which he was serving the sentence. It was a case of most aggra-' vating circumstances. But the mother was ho persistent in her appeals, so eloquent in her expressions of love, that her indescribable devotion so moved thheart of the governor that he wrote out the pardon for tho bo3*. And when the boy came into his presence he said to him: "Young man, you do not deserve the pardon. Your crime is without excuse. Butforthe8ake of this mother and for the matchless love she bears for you, and the possibility of that love working your salvation, I give to you this pardon." A DRUNKEN* MOTHER. Such love is the power unto salvation, both for the individual and for society. A mother was arraigned in a polico court charged with drunkenness. She was guilty. The judge fined her $5, in default of which sho was to go to the island. A little ragged urchin stood by and heard the sentence. He cried to the judge, "Wait a minute, judge, I'll get the money." He rushed out to all the places of business where he was known. He seen red from all his friends all the mone possible. He told them of his mother s difficulty; that she was to go to the island. He secured $2.35. He came back and poured the money out on the judge's desk and then said bravely to him, "It's all I could get now, judge, but if you will send me to the island for her I'm not so large, but I'll stay longer and work out the balance." The poor woman, overwhelmed by this evidence of her child's devotion, rose and snatched him to her heart, while 6he cried between her sobs and tears that she would be a better woman from that day for the boy's sake. The j udgo remitted the fine, and from that hour she was a changed woman. A child's passionate love for a mother had lifted her from the ditch. Love is the fulfillment of the law. It is the power that fulfills its negations, its positive commands. It is the power that opens the new heaven to humanity, with its divine possibilities. So we must love as Christ loved. And if we are to solve the great and solemn problems that confront humanity today we are to solve them in learning the lessons of Jesus. Only those who strive to fulfill his command are Christ's children. That nation is only a real Christian nation that aspires to fulfill it and that will never rest content until the struggle for fulfillment has taken shape in incarnated life. Until the church shall learn this deep lesson of fraternity?of love for the race ?there must grow up outside the walls of the church a larger church. Such a church is growing today, and its basis is the love of man and the service of man. They do not call themselves members of the church, but from many of them I fear we must learn some of the deepest lessons of true Christianity. As the city must increase its corporate limits to take in the city that is outside, and as the city grows by this incorporation, so the church ecclesiastically will grow in the future, by the process of enlarging its borders and of learning the lesson of a larger life, with its larger possibilities, even from those whom they have despised in the past as teachers. "A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another, even as I have loved you." An Able ThIc From Georgia. At a recent barbecue in southwest Georgia seven strange and hungry looking men were seen huddled together in a corner of the woods remote from the big crowd. But now and then, while the "carcasses" were roasting in the pits, one of the men would come forward, get a whiff of the savory meats and return to his disconsolate companions. No one seemed to know the men?they were strangers to all, and yet they had the appearance of farmers who had raised a big crop of cotton at G cents. But m erybody knew then/ after the horn blew lbr dinner. With a mad rush those hungry looking men made for the table, and with wild eyes and open mouths they went to work. Shoulder after shoulder of beef dis appeared, tho men devouring everything in sight. Tlio crowd stood amazed ;uul forgot that it was hungry too. Those seven lank men were the attraction, and it was not until they gould eat no msre and had crawled off to rest?or die?that the people remembered where they were and that they had appetites. The chief of the barbecue approached the men and in a faint voice asked: "Where did you fellers come from, and when did you eat before you struck this neighborhood?" One of the men answered: "We came from this county, but we've been iirhidin an hungry. We jos' heard that the war was over and that .Sherman was a-givin out rations, an so wo thought we'd git some!" The chief of the barbecue fainted, and they carried him away more dead than alive.?Atlanta Constitution. Tributes to ail Artist. Miss Ellen Terry is among the most entlmsiastio of Eleanora Duse's many admirers in this country, ami sue is reported to have said with her usual generous appreciation, "I feel like a child in acting when I see this great artist." One of the highest compliments that was paid to the signora's inimitable art was not intended as a compliment by tho speaker. One night when the curtain fell upon her fine and absolutely naturul impersonation of the peasant woman in "Cavalleria Ilcsticana," a lady in one of the boxes remai ked toiler companions: "Do you call that acting? Why, any one could do that."?London Pictorial. SIX INCHES OF TWINE. It St(i|i|ii'd an OliNtiimtf Nosi'-IJNmmI u 1'liyKlriau Could Not Stop. l'retty soon after the morning train on the Consolidated road pulled out of New London Station the other day, ! westward hound, the conductor bolted through the drawing room car-iloor nn/1 ocL-r>il "I? tlioro o vsieinn in this car?" All the passengers gazed at a tall man who laid down his paper, spoke | to the conductor, and went out with ; him a minute later. Twenty minutes after, when the conductor came in j view, every passenger asked him the same question, and in reply he said : "Oh, it's a man in the smoker. He's i got nose-bleed?nasal hemorrhage, the , doctor calls it. His nose has been bleeding over since we left East Greenwich, and it hasn't stopped yet." "What is the doctor doing for it?" j i inquired a man. "He has just put in a tampon, and we've all pooled in our handkerchiefs for the poor fellow. He is getting aw- j fully white and weak." In one of the rear chairs of the car sat a young woman who had Hushed ! and paled at rapid intervals as the conductor talked, and when she finally heckoned to him, he quickly moved to her side. "I think I know something to stop j the nose-hleed. I never knew it to I fail," she timidly asserted, "hut maybe I ought not to suggest it if the gentle( man is in the doctor's care." j "The doctor is about getting discouraged, and the packing in the man's j nose don't seem to staunch the llow at | ' all. If you know anything I guess j ! everybody would thank you to tell it." A few moments later the conductor ' I took the young woman into the smoker | at the physician's request. The medical man said : "Pardon me, but if you ! have any knowledge of a remedy to stop nasal hemorrhage, both this patient and I would be intensely grateful i to you." "Have you a piece of twine?ordi- ! nary wrapping twine?" said the girl. / Ml o hnmlln rnit/?trlv n W|| 1.1MI. ?, VT....V..V. .. | piece. The girl took it, asked the loan of a knife, and, cutting a piece of the twine about six inches in length, 1 j tied it very tightly around the little j linger of the left hand of the man with ! the nose-bleed. Then she asked the ; conductor to escort her hack to her , car. It was not five minutes later when ' j the doctor came through the car-door | and went straight to the place where I the young woman sat. She was busily ( engaged in reading a magazine, but looked up as he spoke to her. j "Your remedy has been perfectly \ successful," he said, and asked permis- i sion to take a vacant chair near her. ilIt is strange," lie continued, "how many times in a physician's life he ; finds all his acquired science useless before the common sense of some noil- 1 professional person. Why I might | have known, if I had only stopped to think, that your remedy couldn't fail. ' "Just as soon as you began tying j that string around the little finger, I j ! knew it would stop the bleeding, and j it could not have done otherwise. Of j course you know the scientific reason | | for it?the fact of the arteries passing ! ' through the little linger, and all about j | that?" "No," she said, "I only know my ; I grandmother told mother of it, and she I ! told me. I am a teacher, anil quite I i often in the first warm days in spring ; ' the little children in my department i I in school have nose bleed. I always j get some twine from the boys' pockets : and tie it tightly around the little I linger of the child and it has never ; I failed to stop the How." I was in a down-town restaurant j that evening when the physician was | telling the story, and he said at the j end of it: "She was a devilish pretty J : young woman, with a mouth that said all the time 'Kiss me !' and eyes that j i said no man ever had or wotdd but her | sweetheart?when she had one."? New York Recorder. "HEAR JOHN Ql'I.NCY ADAMS." "Silence! Silence!" resounded j through the hall of congress. "Hear i him ! Hear him ! Hear John Quincy ! Adams!" It was one of the most dramatic in ' i : CIUCUIK II) ./IIUCJ'ICUU IIISIUI V, JIIIV twenty-sixth congress, which began in ; December, IS.'hi, had been in session three days, and yet it had not been able to organize. It was the custom for ! the clerk of the preceding congress to act as the chairman of the new congress until it had organized and elected j I a speaker. Mr. Hugh II. Garland, the j i clerk, refused to proceed in calling the ' roll after reaching the State of New ; Jersey, because the membership from that State was in dispute, j The fourth day opened, and eonfu- j i sion still prevailed. The clerk had i begun the roll call with Maine, and, as | lie was proceeding toward Mnssachu1 setts, John Quincy Adams, ex-presi! dent of the I'nited States, one of the 1 most learned and most eloquent statesi men of the world, was seen to clasp ! the front edge of his desk to assist i him in rising, for lie was an old man. His keen eye was riveted on the ! clerk. "Mr. Garland, call New Jcr- I I scy," Mr. Ajlams said. The clerk replied that "rather than do so, I repeat that?" Before he could finish the sentence, i Mr. Adams sprung to the floor, and said : "I rise to interrupt the clerk." "Silence! Silence!" resounded ? *' 1 II 111r...,.. i.:?. I llirougn me nan. m-4n . ....... him ! Hear what he has to say ! Hear | John (juincy Adams!" In an instant the most profound : silence reigned throughout the hall. ( Mr. Adams said : "This is not the time or place to discuss the merits of j the conflicting elements for seats from l New Jersey: that subject belongs to the house of representatives, which, by the constitution, is made the ultij mate arbiter of the qualifications of its members. Hut what a spectacle we | here present! We degrade and disgrace ourselves ; we degrade and dis grace our constituents and the country. "We do not and cannot organize; and why? Hecause the clerk of this house, the mere clerk, whom we create, whom we employ, and whose exisj tcncc depends upon our will, usurps the throne, and sets us, the representatives and vicegerents, of the whole American people, at defiance, and ! holds us in contempt! And what is this clerk of yours! Is he to control j , the destinies of fifteen millions of frec, men ! Is he to suspend, by his mere i negative, the functions of government, and put an end to this congress? He refused to call the roll! It is in : your power to compel him to call it, if | he will not do it voluntarily." Here Mr. Adams was interrupted by a member, who said that he was authqr - -* ...1.1 . l/.Ctl 10 say IIIIll CUllipiunnJii wuhi nui roach the clerk, and that he would rcj sign, rather than call the state of New Jersey. "Well, sir," exclaimed Mr. Adams, "then let him resign, and we may pos sihly discover some way by which we i can gel along without the aid of his all powerful talent, learning and genius. "If we cannot organize in any other ; way; if this clerk of yours will not i consent to our discharging the trust j confided to us by our constituents, j then let us imitate the example of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which j l when the colonial governor, Dinwiddie, ordered it to disperse, refused to I obey the imperious and insulting man\ date, and, like men?" -- ?? .1 ...11 ,i. ,i.? | I lSl'IOl'C ->ir. -itiuins COUHl lima" I sentence, the whole body,together with the multitude of onlookers, unable longer to repress their enthusiasm, hurst into cheers. The anarchy of the last few days was dispelled in a mo- 1 m en t. Several members shouted: "How ! . shall the question he put?" "Who will put the question ?" Above the tumult Mr. Adams' own voice was heard : i 1 "I will put the question myself!" Mr. Richard Rarnwell Rhett, of I 1 South Carolina, leaped upon one of , 1 the desks, waved his hand, and ex- ! claimed: j ' "I move that the Hon. John Quincy Adams take the chair of the speaker j \ of this house, and ofliciate as presiding officer till the house be organized by j the election of its constitutional officers. 1 1 As many as are agreed to this will say aye ; those?M He had no opportunity to put the J negative, for one universal, deafening | thundering aye responded to the nomination. And Mr. Adams was conduct- 1 1 ed in honor to the chair. Mr. Wise, of Virginia, addressing ' Mr. Adams, said: "Kir, I regard this as the proudest hour of your life; and if when you shall be gathered to your fathers, I were asked to select the words which, in my judgment, arc best calculated to give at once the character of the man, I would inscribe upon your tomb this sentence, 'I will put the question myself.' "?Epworth Herald. BATKACHIAN MUSICIAN'S. All Invalid'* Wonderful Work with I'et Frog*. , Since the publication of Mr. Jewell's experience with frogs, a good many 1 stories of their wonderful adaptability 1 ; to human training have been told. Horace Horton, of Buffalo, has reached the height of success in the way of bringing frogs under his persuasive I ; control. j He is a wealthy invalid and derives j great pleasure from teaching his pets, j It will he remembered that Mr. Jew- j . ell's frogs would come at the sound of I a bell to get their dinner from their ; , master's hand. All this is wonderful, ; but Mr. Horton's triumph has been 1 . greater. A Philadelphia Times correspondent visited him the other day and witnessed his unique frog circus. (Jaz- I ' ing down into the little artificial lake 1 ? he saw ocean shells scattered over the l bottom and wondered what they were . for. I Mr. Horton gave a shrill whistle, and j simultaneously from every shell ] hopped out a big frog, who kicked itself to the surface of the water.' All jumped to the smooth hank and sat staring at their master. | i "Attention!" shouted Mr. Horton, | i and every leg was drawn close to the ! body and the action was taken. ; "Form in line," caiue next, and the ; I well-trained amphibians formed in ! I four lines with an old giant at their : head, who, Mr. Horton said, weighed ] six pounds and seven ounces. He was ! enormous, and looked as though lie had dined on his weaker brethren for ' i generations of tadpoles. j < At the word of command they per- | i formed all kinds of evolutions, every leg kicking in perfect unison. Their movements were astonishing in num- j i her and variety, and one might well ( believe Mr. Horton's statement that it 1 took him over ten years to get this se- { i lect company into such perfect discip- i line. Races were held after the drill, : and then followed a jumping contest, t < At a given signal, each frog in turn | leaped into the water and disappeared, j i "What you have seen my frogs do so \ far is very wonderful, said Mr. Hor- j tou, "but their chief accomplishment ; you have not seen, or heard, I should ; 1 say. It is the wonder of everyone, j and people have come miles to witness ! j it. Wait till dusk and then I will have : them perform." | 1 At last dusk came and Mr. Horton j took the reporter out to the water's edge and gave him a seat. He then 1 brought out a miniature musician's stand and placed it near the edge of the little lake. At a signal note the frogs came to the surface of the water and jumped into the stand. They formed a circle, and at the word of command began to sing a tune. Each frog had been selected because of its line croak, and there was a perfect , 1 scale among the voices. The largest frog sang the deepest bass, and a little , : fellow, almost a tadpole, sang a shrill sopruno. It was wonderful. Mr. Hor- i ton said that during the warm months j 1 their voices were clearer and sweeter j than at this time of year. When the i frogs began to show signs of weariness ' their master gave them the signal to stop, and all sought their homes at the j bottom of the lake. Mr. Horton tells j 1 many stories of the intelligence of his pets. TRIAL OF THE PYX. The annual ceremony of testing the standard fineness of the gold and silver : coins of the United States, as well as those of (Jreat Britain, is called the i "trial of the pyx." The custom is very ancient, and the name is derived from the pyx or chest in which the coins re- i 1 served for examination were formerly kept. In the United States the trial, | which is provided for by law, is made on the second Wednesday of each recurring February before the judge of i 1 the United States district court, the i comptroller of the currency, the assayer of the New York assay oflice and | such other persons as the president > may designate. A majority of the persons constitute a competent board, and the examination is made in the presence of the director of the mint. > The coins thus reserved for trial are made up from those selected from each delivery made by the chief coiner, deposited in the "pyx" and kept under the joint care of the superintendent of the mint and the chief assayer, each of whom has his separate lock and key. | Coins from other mints arc trans- J mitted quarterly for examination to i 1 the director of the mint, or in lieu of this, he must test any piece which falls 1 into his hands. In Fngland the examination is made under the direction of the crown and in the presence of an official known as the Queen's or King's "i-ompinhrniicpr." who administers an outli to the jury which presides over the proceedings. In the I'nited States the examiners, or those detailed to make a "trial of the pvx,'" are not sworn, but they make a certified report of their doings. If this report shows the coins to he within the limit of tolerance in fineness and weight, it is tiled ; if not, the fact is certified to the president, and if lie should deem it j proper so to do, he may order all those implicated in the error to be henceforth disqualified from holding office. A Dark Sick-Room?Dr. R. \V. Richardson says that the first words of most physicians when they enter sick-rooms in private houses should be (Jocthe's dying exclamation?"More i light! more light!"' It certainly is , true that generally before the doctor j can get a good look at the patient, lie has to ask that the curtains be raised, in order that the rays of a much j greater healer than the ablest physician may ever hope to be, may be ad mitted. If the patient's eyes are so that they cannot hear the light, a i little ingenuity will sulliec to screen them, and at the same time allow the cheerful light to enter. A dark sick-room must be an unchccrful one, and now it is known that light is , one of the most potent microbe-killers, let us have it in abundance. i V AN HISTORIC BLENDER. IfilVrKitii l);ivi? wan Hiiri* Arr?*nt?a<l in Atlanta an a Pickpocket. It is not generally known that Jefferson Davis was once arrested and hold prisoner in Atlanta charged with being a pickpocket. In ISO? or 1808, Mr. Davis, who was then secretary of war, was traveling from Richmond to Mississippi. On the same train was Sam Noble, the founder of the big iron works in Rome and Anniston. Mr. Noble had hut recently come over from England and was on a prospecting tour. He had with him ~ .'".nil limwl untnlinl r>nntfiiniii(> $1 nnn ;v oitiuii iao?i?t ouvvuv. o "? -j-" in gold. When Atlanta was reached, the dismay of Mr. Noble may he imngincd when he found his satchel gone. He gave the alarm, and city marshal K. T. Hunnicut and his deputy, Ben Williford, responded at once. They learned that a quiet, unassuming man had occupied the scat with Noble, and after a short search they found him, placed him under arrest, and carried him to Washington Hall. The stranger took his arrest very quietly and said: "Is not Allison Nelson the mayor of your town?" "Yes," was replied. "Well, I think if you will bring him here I can he identified." The arrest of a person charged with picking pockets was unusual in Atlanta, and the prisoner was surrounded by a gaping, staring crowd. The mayor came, and as he crossed the threshold he glanced around the room until his eyes rested on the prisoner. With a shout of joy, his arms outstretched, he sprang forward. "Jelf Davis, God bless your soul! Where did you come from ? Gentlemen, I fought under this man in the Mexican war. He is the secretary of war." Introductions and explanations followed. The officers began another investigation and finally recovered the money from the Negro train porter. Messrs. Hunnicut and Williford are still alive; Mr. Noble and Mayor Nelson are dead, but there are many Did men in Atlanta today who were present in Washington Hall when the affair occurred.?Atlanta Herald. The Valve of a Newspaper.? Ten years ago T lived in a town in Indiana. On returning home one night, for I am a carpenter by trade, I saw a little girl leave my door, and I asked my wife who she was. She said Mrs. Harris had sent her after their newspaper, which my wife had borrowed. As we sat down to tea, my wife said to me by name: "I wish you would suoscrioe lor me newspaper; it is so much comfort to tnc when you are away from home." "I would like to do so," said I; ''but you know I owe a payment on the house and lot. It will be all I can do to meet it." She replied: "If you will take this paper, I will sew for the tailor to pay for it." I subscribed for the paper; it caiuc in due time to the shop. While resting one noon, and looking over it, I saw an advertisement of the county commissioners to let a bridge that was to be built. I put in a bid for the bridge, and the job was awarded to me, on which I cleared which enabled me to pay for my house and lot easily, and for the newspaper. If I had not subscribed for the newspaper, I should not have known anything about the contract, and could not have met my payment on my house and lot. A mechanic never loses anything by taking his home newspaper." A Fa km kr's Fish Story.?The discovery that a Herman carp drinks milk has averted what threatened to be wholesale suits for theft. Michael Fireman, for several months, or ever since the weather grew warm, has noticed that his blooded cows return from their luxuriant pastures with full stomachs and empty udder. There was a suspicion that the cows had been milked by families who reside in the neighborhood. This thing continued, and Mr. Tireman's dairy product reached zero. He watched his cows, but could not discover the milk robbers. On Tuesday he had a startling revelation. He was standing by the millrace which runs through his farm ; he saw his favorite cow enjoying herself in ?iin wntor which touched her body. After a prolonged bath the bovine emerged from the Stream. Clinging to the animals udder was a carp that weighed about fifteen pounds. It had drank every ounce of the cow's milk. Mr. Tiernan says that the cows have regularly gone to the mill-race to keep cool, and the lisli have as regularly extracted their milk. Our Bodies After Death.?Within a very near approach of truth, the human family inhabiting the earth lias been estimated at 1,000,000,000; the annual loss by death is 18,000,000. Xow, the weight of the animal matter of this immense body cast into the grave is no less than (535,000 tons, and its decomposition produces 0,000,000,000,000 cubic feet of matter. The vegetable productions of the earth clear away from the earth the gases thus generated, decomposing them and assimilating them for their own increase. This circle of changes has been going on ever since man became an occupier of this earth. He feeds on the lower animals and on the seeds of plants, which in due time become a part of himself. The lower animals feed upon the herbs and grass, which, in their turn, become the animal: then, by its death, again passinto the atmosphere, and are ready once more to be assimilated by plants, the earth or bone substance alone remaining where it is deposited. Sun Didn't.?Mr. Martin was talking at the dinner table about the inconsistency of women. "These young ladies who protest that they are never going to marry!" he broke out. "Everybody knows they will belie their own words at the very first opportunity." lie paused, and evidently hoped that Mrs. Martin would come to the rescue of her sex: but that discreet woman held her tongue. "Why Mary," he continued, "you remember how it was with yourself. I have heard you more than once that you wouldn't marry the best man alive." "Well, I didn't," said Mrs. Martin. SOT "Well," said a cousiderate mother, "I want my children to attend church, and 1 intend them to do so, but I do not expect grown people's behaviour from them. 1 adopt Dr. Edward Everett Hale's plan of letting them carry a piece of paper and a pencil, so that as soon as they become restless or weary they may draw or write by way of diversion, provided, of course, that they do so very quietly. As they grow older, and are more able to understand what is being said from the pulpit, the pencil and paper are left at home, and in the meantime die habit of church-go ing has been formed." Volt" The corner stone of the National Capitol was laid September IS, 17!?S. It is proposed to celebrate the centennial anniversary of tbis event by a parade, addresses, fireworks and a night illumination of the Capitol by means of 24 searchlights. fta> The figures usually spoken of as "Arabic numerals," represented by 1, 2, .'I, etc.. are really of East India origin. They were lirst used in Arabia by Mohammed Hen Musa in !)0O A. D.