Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 30, 1893, Image 1
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.