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ijewis m. orist, proprietor, j . independent family Den's pa per: ,ioi; the promotion of the |3olitiqal, Social, Agricultural and (foimnerrial interests of the ?outh. j TERMS?$2.00 A YEAlt IX ADVANCE. VOL. 39. YOEKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBEIt -4, 1893. NO. 4Q. JUST AS : BY WILLIAM F [Copyright, 1S93, by American Press Assoc! CHAPTER IV STIRLING. MEETS AN ENEMY. A week or so later on Philip received a letter from the admiral's daughter. Among other newB she wrote as follows: My dear father, though they have placed htm on the retired list, still pines for something to do. So ho has been appointed a commissioner of something or other to go down to Oklahoma and help settle the land troubles there. 1 may conclude to come with him. The season is dull here; no congress, no receptions; only a plentitude of vapid government clerks. Ton know how proper I am?that I never do anything or go anywhere except in a way that Is wholly oomme 11 faut Therefore you may well believe that I anticipate no end of a good time down In your barbarous country. The novelty of the thing, you know. Not the least of my pleasure will be to hear your melancholy tones once more, though that will hardly be novel unless you have brightenod up of late. But then, down there, dear Phil, there won't be any clerks. The demon of rlvaldom won't ha ant you, unloss, as 1 have before suspected, you can create an Imaginary one of your own. So mako ready to behold us at any time. Papa is getting restless, and by that I know he is pluming his wings for flight You must show me that wonderful girl you wrote about What curious anomalies the west produces at times! All the same, you must not admire any one there or elsewhere but your own devoted STELLA. | This pleasing news and the unusually | active nature of his duties kept Philip's mind so occupied that the complex interest which Arizony's person and affairs had excited was for the time allayed. The squadron of cavalry with which he was connected was kept busy patroll- j ing boundaries, and searching the new , territory fo. interloping boomers. Tho I dissatisfaction of would be settlers was i increasing, while the rigidity with which the soldiers repressed all predatory movements intensified their anger against the authorities. A keen border sense of the injustice of such treatment gradually overbore other considerations, and the rights of the Indians, the supremacy of law and the necessary enforcement of ; order?all these to their inflamed vision savored more of official tyranny and red tape than of justice to thoso most concerned. Only a sense of helplessness prevented an open declaration of war on ?- the part of the more desperate and resolute of the boomers. Stirling one day, having scattered his I troopers over an extended belt of the de- i batable land, wag riding leisurely by himself toward the common rendezvous when he found himself again upon the spot where he had first met Arizony. I The dugout, with its waving banner, was still there, though the soldiers under Philip's orders had taken her movables ! to the boomer's camp. While he sat upon his horse recalling to mind the dash and melancholy of this | singular girl and the unwomanly surroundings of her life a bulky form emerged from the dugout and confronted him. The man had the neck and shoulders of a Hercules, together with shaggy hair, a heavy bristling mustache and a bold brow that hung beetling over a pair of small, restless, inflamed eyes. His manner and appearance were both domineering and cunning. "I reckon you don't know me, do you?" j He drawled out the words with a peculiar intonation, which, added to his manner, was almost insulting. "I believe you are tbe man they call j Yates," replied Stirling. "You know I this is forbidden ground, of course. May I I ask you what you are up to liero?" "Of course you may ask until your \ throat splits, but as to my answerin that's another thing. I don't 6ee as it's any of your business anyhow." "There's where you are wrong, my man. It is my especial business to keep such man as yon out or nere untu tno i lands are declared open. Sorry to dis- j turb yon, but yon really must skip back j over the border." "I'm d d if I dot Hark yon, leften- ! ant. I can read yon like yon were a book : ?you and all your tribe. You're here j to keep honest men out of their rights, j But we're not goin to stand it, d d | "my blood, if we are! Yon've jumped our range about as often as we're going to put up with. Now I look at you good, seems to me you're the chap as inter- i fered twist me and Arizony tother night, j She was as peart and obejent a girl as ever rode a bucking broncho till you j came along. I've got you marked and : branded. I'll have you down, too? ' bucked and gagged?if you don't quit your d d meddlin with better men's rights and sweethearts." Stirling had quietly unslung a bugle ! he carried. "I will not bandy words with you," he Baid. "If I advised that poor girl, it was for her own good. I am sorry Bhe seems so infatuated, and I see no harm in wish- ; ing her well out of it all As to your ! being here, I have only this to say: You had best leave quietly for your own good. One call on thfs bugle and men will be here to assist you in moving on. Come now, will you go peaceably?" "Not till I settle with you." roared Yates, thoroughly infuriated by Stirling's quiet contempt and a sense of his own impotence. He jerked up his Winchester, but the lieutenant, watching the man, leveled his own revolver in a trice. "I've got the drop on you, as the phrase goes, my man," he said as composedly as if at drill on the parade. "Off you go?quick time?marchl" m * i "Off you go!" Yates, choking with spleen, stared at I the undeviating pistol and at the cool blue eye behind it. Then ho 6\voro furiously. Finally, shouldering his rifle, ho ( whistled to a lean, yellow dog?the un- : sociablo Bulsrer?and swaccered awav. outwardly insolent and inwardly boiling. Thirty yards off ho turned and called back: "When a man gets tho drop on Burl Yates, ho reckernizes it because he has to ?see? But ho don't forget?ho don't forget. Just stow that in your cursed noddle, will you? You've interfered with Burl twice, you have. Next time mebbe the shoe'll be on tho other foot." Ho wheeled and sauntered on. while , Stirling sat. pistol in hand, until tho hugo frame of tho boomer had disappeared beyond tho long swell of the adjacent prairie. Then the lieutenant dismounted, examined the dugout and find- j ing nothing inside rodo slowly down tho bottom looking for other tresspass ers. Soon ho heard his name softly called and looking back saw a lad c* some 10 years approaching. As ho drew near the face seemed familiar to Stir- j ling, while a battered wool hat and ill fit ting jeans coum uui fuumj muo u certain symmetry of form and constraint of manner that were essentially feminine. Then the tangled curls, the fragile brown j features, the noso slightly retrousse, and the largo, dark eyes so pensive, saucy : and indefinable?all these could belong to but one person, Arizony. She laughed, blushed and looked down as ho recog- ! nized with a feeling of pain who sho ; really was. "You?hero again?" ho queried, feel- \ 5HE WAS. j >ERRY BROWN. [at Ion.] ing what a compieto wasto or words ho i must have made of his former interfer- I | ence and interest in her behalf. ' I know what you think," she began ; ! hnrriedlv. "but I can't ston lone: to ex- ! plain. Burl will bo watching. I oughtn't to have showed up to you, but I saw you and him together, and I know he's dangerous. They'ro all a-gettin dangerous down at the camp. You've mado an enemy of Burl?mostly through me, I fear j ?and he hates tlio sight of you. So I j couldn't help slipping back to warn you j against him, even if you do see me in i i these duds." She surveyed herself rather ruefully, \ then looked up at Sterling and laughed, j "Oh! I've worn 'em before," she con- i 1 tinued. "We women on the border have i ( to do a-raany a thing that would make you big folks stare, but?but wo can't j help doing 'em?I tell you we have to? 1 or do worse." ' I She stamped her foot impatiently, us if 1 divining by his shocked and serious looks that ho inferred the worst to bo quite pos- i 1 sible?with such as she. j 1 "Arizony, this may all bo so, yet"?he 1 began, but she impetuously interrupted ! him. "Never mind about mo. I came out 1 this time to help Burl stake out another 1 claim. He would have me come, and it i ' seemed best to put on these clothes. But what I want to say to you i.? this: Don't ' you go far from your men?or be much ] alone on the prairie. Don't never leavo ' your weapons behind. Burl" "Why do you cling to that man. Ari- I zonyV" f "Mebbe that's my business." sho re- I 1 turned a little sullenly. "I only ask because I am interested in j I you." His kindly words and manner seemed j to effect her like an actual physical pain. * She twisted her fingers together and ' looked nervously about. 1 "I've known him so long," she fultered. ' "Sometimes I'm more afraid of him than 3 anvthinfi' else. vet ho cares for me?he 1 loves me better than any one. I've had other beaux, too. Thero was Oily Peto ! down at Texarkana?he had tho slickest tongue. Then came Tip Padgett?ho was a bunko steerer or something at Waco; ho quite paralyzed me with his airs. I've had others?no entl of 'ein, in fact. They come and they go. Sometimes I like 'em, but moro often I don't. ; But Burl?somehow he stuck and hung, j He got round mother afore she left, j till she said,' Arizony, if it's long of Bu-1 that you won't go back east with me, | you'd better marry him.' And so?and j so?I reckon I will?some day." "So it really was on his account that I you did not go with your mother?" "I don't know what right you have to i be askin," she retorted, then paused as his sympathetic expression again arrested her resentment. " But I might as well 6ay yes," she continued pathetically. "I'm a very helpless creature, with all my airs, and somehow I can't help doin what Burl wants me to do. There, don't keep me here any longer. He may be a-watchin out." She began to retraco her 6teps, but called back, "Don't forget I what I've told you and?be very careful of yourself." In another minute Arizony was out of sight, and the lieutenant rode on to the rendezvous with considerable fresh food a for contemplation. c "That girl is something of a mystery 6 to me," he said to himself. "She likes I that fellow, and yet she fears him. I Strang? creatures. Borne of these women a are. Yet I cannot help pinning some f faith to her purity and her truth. They i may be only rags, however. Who 1 knows?" i a He sighed and lighted a cigarette. j 1 ! J CHAPTER V. THE ROBBERY. I The stagecoach was rocking leisurely I ^ along. A Btarlight night, crisp and still, ? hung over the prairie. The isolated res- ; 1 ervation road, winding in and out through bottom and over swell, Borne- i 0 where near the north fork of the Cana- J a dian river, was rough, dreary and monot- ! I onous. i a Inside, umong other passengers, were | J the retired admiral and liis daughter, , 6 both heartily tired and hungry. They j wished themselves at Kickapoo, where a j * midnight supper and a frontier bed of- ; * fered somo perspective consolation, but 0 even wishing grows yet moro tiresomo e under certain circumstances. a The coach was passing through an ex- j tended bottom, where gloom of over- \ * hanging timber and thoughts of tho wild I western highwayman mado tho moro timid travelers think of tho open prairio * with regret. ~ Tho admiral's daughter, though, was * not nervous. Even certain harrowing 6 stories of tho Jesse James order, with ' which a drummer from Little Rock in- i . 6isted upon regaling thoso who perforce j J must listen, did not prevent her from * taking sundry cat naps in her own espo- j ' cial corner. Tho admiral, being rather i 1 testy and impatient, would give vent to j j ULX'ttblUUUl DUUi 13 KJX muiginiuuu u*u tliv I territorial laxity of public morals that 1 allowed any such heinous crimes to go | unpunished. Suddenly tho stage stopped, and the , ' voice of the driver was raised in vehc- j 1 ment adjuration of tho kind peculiar to ' ' tho sons of Nimshi. Tho passengers I peered through the windows. All around ! 1 was tho overhanging forest and> ubovo a , thin slice of starlight. Before tho coach j was a dim barricade of logs and.brush. "Gentlemen," said tho driver, "you'll j < havo to get out and help clear away if | \ you expect to reach Kiekapoo this night, j J This is the first blamed time I've knowed ' the road to be blocked since Cholery Bill 1 helt up tho stage in '65 in this here very ; 1 bottom. We must" Further speech was quelled by a fusi' 1 lade of firearms from either side of tl . I 1 road that startled tho admiral's daughter into uttering a pretty shriek and sent ' j a dozen bullets over tho coach. Then a stern, peremptory voico ordered eve-y ' one to get down and out. The passengers ' 1 obeyed, following ono another liko a 1 flock of terrified sheep. Tho admiral's 1 J l.i 1... 1.4. .... ?.? All ' lULiiko. i^jixjjv M iidi PHI; iiiwi j'ufc it with. What little lmmcy sho brought here nil gone anil more besides, as sho got from Texas through her mother. Hasn't she bid out, ami dodged, and slipped around, and been drug back uuugiiLur uxuu^ut cuu i vi 11 xxii >uiv ranged in line and commanded to hold 1 up their hands on pain of instant death, 1 while a robber at each end, with leveled ' revolvers, enforced swift obedience. A 1 third man looked after the driver and the mail pouches, and a fourth rifled tho pockets of each passenger in turn. ' ' Tho same mortifying experience, so ; 1 often related in western papers, was endured. Anger, protest and timidity on 1 the part of tho robbed, rude handling ! and brutal jocularity on tho part of tho robbers. Only two noteworthy incidents varied tho usual sameness of the scene. Tho first occurred when tho masked boodler in chief canio to a primitivo looking, elderly man, wtio was clad m unmitigated homespun of a ridiculous stylo and fit. As tho expert uppropriator of j other men's goods fished out sundry ar- ! tides of homely personal usage from sev- i eral capacious pockets, ho became professionally disgusted. "You're a gay old cock, ain't you?" ho muttered, examining one articlo after another. "One cotton red swipe, with a nickle; one knifo, barlow, by all that's holy!?10-cent Testymcnt?so you're on the pious lay, are ye? And here's half a plug of tobacco," smelling tho same, "not very good at that; $1.50 silver and a bottle?hello! Corn juice!" Tho robber hold up a fiat glass flask, shook it, 6inelled at it, tasted it and placed it in ins own pot'Kec. "It's tho genuine stuff, old man. Well, well. You hain't rich, pard, and for tho sake of tho whisky you can have tho rest back, Testyincnt and all. Tain't often i wo ketches tho two goin together. Hero, | tako your things. Put 'em whero you 1 ivTTLf^ "A bottle?hello!" can set on 'em. You can't risk such a lot of valuables too often. Thero won't be no liquor to 8avo 'em next time." At hist lie came to the admiral's daughter, who, having surrendered watch and purse, begged to bo allowed to retain a certain ring which, as he looked at it. fell from the highwayman's hand. He. denying her request with an oath, stooped to pick it up, when slio, with great coolness, toro the mask from his face. "Curse you," ho roared, then dived for the mask and hurriedly replaced it, but though his back was toward tho others the lady had caught one clear glimpse of bis face. "I shall know you if I shall see yen aguin," she said calmly. Tho robber, now remasked, seemed about to assault her bodily. But ho restrained himself. "In with you all," ho shouted. "Don't you stir from here till you hear three juns or we'll riddlo you with bullets yet." Tho admiral's daughter picked up her ring, which tho man had forgotten when ais mask was 6tricken off. The rascals (vero now in a bad temper and bundled :ho passengers back into the coach roughy. Then renewing their orders, with ldditional curses, they mounted their lorses near by and rodo off. Every ore emained silent and almost motionless mtil tho rlistjiTit. sound of tho throo mins :amo sharply to their ears, when the iriver shook himself down from his jerch, saying: . "It couldn't 'a' been Cholery Bill and lis gang this time. Too much cussin tnd rearin for them. Must havo been preen hands, gentlemen. Now hands on ho road is apt to bo rather rough?think t'll skeer folks, I reckon. Hit takes an )ld timer to bo perlito, spesh'ly toward vomen. Now we'll heavo these logs out md mosey on." When tho stago arrived at Kickapoo, he primitive looking elderly man began 0 fumblo in his brogan shoes. Then ho Irew forth a flat bundle of bank notes, :ounted them and placed them in his iocketbook. All this in a melancholy, lensivo way, while ho spoke as if to himelf: "The ways of tho wicked are full of juile, yet havo I outwitted them all." It was more than his more worldly vise fellow travelers had done, nor were hey one whit consoled by observing tho esult. Yet what might not bo expected of one who carried whisky in ono >ocket and a Testament in the other? CHAPTER VI. CHICKASAW JOHN. The camp of the boomers lay scatte red dong Cottontail creek for nearly a milo. )no of its veteran members was Chickaaw John, an old companion of Captain 5ayne's, and who had been an Oklahoma >oomer so long that his surname and his mtecedents, as a once prosperous Illinois armer, had quite receded into the shiftng realms of border tradition. Of all lis former possessions ho retained only 1 lean wife, a leaner pair of mules, a diapidated wagon and an undiminished earning for forbidden lands. From long contention with governnent red tape and the weariness of hopes leferred he had acquired an irritably xpectant air, as of uncertainty grown norbid and restless in tho light of rights lenied. Add to this a parched, dusty ispect, that brooded over man and beast dike as if dry winds, red dust and scant irovisioning wero shriveling their bodies iswell as hopes, and you have Chickasaw fohn somewhat as he looked in these ivil days. Ever hammering at one idea, he had lammered it into Burl's convictions, unil that individual had also como to recignizo but two objects as worthy of his ntire ambition hero below?Arizony fur , wife and enough of good Indian land o make them comfortablo when good ndiaii lands should havo passed to their iroper owners, the whito man. Hence the festive trips over tho border >y night on tho part of Yates, Chickasaw lohn and other kindred spirits, to whom ho delays of government and tho retraints imposed by tho military wero ho crying evil of tho times. As mouths passed on and tho petitionng and lobbying at Washington seemed o involve only a necessity for tho coninuanco of theso pleasing but often tin satisfactory privileges of a frco peoplo the wrath and hatred of tho actual boomers increased. Hard times grew ipaco in their camps. Many abandoned the cause and returned home in various stages of impoverishment and ruin. Othjrs. not less distressed, remained to curse ind to endure, intensifying still more their bitternesss against tho soldiers, who were tho only near by and tangible rei>resentativesof official outrage and delay. "I tell ye," exclaimed Chickasaw John before a congenial audience at his campfire ono night, "a gover'mcnt soldier is a jovcr'ment slave. He's only fittin for m American citizen to wipe his feet on. I hain't goin to put up with Ym much longer. Look at me, Burl Yates! You never had much to lose, and it's bad snough on you, but?look at me!" Truly, except as a ragged, rusty epitjine of disappointment, he was not much to look at now. "What did I have five years ago down in southern Illinoy?" ho continued. "Two hundred acres of as black bottom laud is ever you stuck u plow into, 110 end of mules, cattle, hogs, a good homo and ever $700 in the bank. What havo I got now?" IIo grated his teeth savagely as the sad difference smote upon his consciousness. "What havo these infernal red plains, and these infernal red Injuns, and that infernal red tape gover'mcnt swallereu up of mine? They've gobbled it all, every d d bit of it?land, stock. house, money, aye, and even my two children!" IIo jerked his thumb toward a red knob, where his auditors knew that two bleak little graves were kept bare by tho prairio winds. "I tell yo boys, when wo havo to slip over the lino by night like thieves and stake out an 1 crawl and hide, and all 'long of theso bluecoats as lives on the gover'mcnt and stands 'twixt us and our rights, while our families starve?it just about makes a man ready for war, murder, anything. Sometimes I don't kcer much which it is either." Theso sentiments met wit'; the usual approval. Burl swore tlia. he would rather fight a soldier than eat any time. The general opinion was that something ouL'lit to bo done, and that soon, though here?and all for what, gentlemen?" Chickasaw John glared upon his auditors as if ho felt sure they had the answer somewhere and was determined to drag it out of them, willy nilly. But apparently abandoning the idea in sheer disgust, ho snapped his fingers disdainfully. "\Vhy argy tho thing? Hit's too plain; that's what it is. If I was her and Burl, I'd marry, and I'd kill a soldier or two | 'stead of havin -n dinner. Then I'd tako a weddin trip to Washin'ton and give t-\rnci<1nTit tin* lilnccin 11 This luridly satirical conception of j affairs so tickled Chickasaw John's fancy j that a wintry smile chased itself over his j haggard face. Burl, tightening Arizo- ! ny's arm within his own, laughed aloud, j "My sentiments to a T," ho whispered j toher. "You must marry me, Arizony. If I don't get no land. I must; have you? j sure." His manner was more insistent than ' loving. She drew a littlo from him, but as her eyo caught his compelling, downward glance she seemed to shrink rather than nestle against him and sighed in a i way that expressed resignation rather ! thnn willingness. IIo pulled her aside, and while the stream of complaint nne j vituperation against the powers that be i I brawled on ho unfolded a new plan ho ? i had conceived. Burl was ever conceiv- I i ing new plans, tho usual futility of | which apparently acted upon him only i | as a further stimulant to his inventive i j restlessness i "Look at vie, Burl Yates!" "Mo and Chickasaw John," said ho, "aro going to take another look at our claims. Most of the soldiers aro now I over about tho Cherokee strip, and we j won't be apt to bo bothered. When we i get back. Arizony, you and I must mari ry. No, you shan't object. Times are gettin harder, and there's a rough crowd [ a-gatnerm m iierc. vvnen cuoso lanus \ I aro finally opened, there'll be such a scruniblo as you never heerd of before. | There'll be cuttin and shootin done, an 1 ' you'll need a protccter to look out for ' you and your claim." She mado no reply in words, but as J before appeared to shrink within his arms. Of late much of her old time dash ! and independence had vanished. In its j j place a wan, half frightened, anxious j hesitancy of look and manner appeared j ; with greater frequency. Like the other j ' boomers, Arizony seemed to bo growing j ! the worse for wear both in body and ; mind. "It's all owiu to the govcr'ment and j ' I theso d d soldiers," Chickasaw John ! ' j would say, but Arizony know better. She was fascinated?infatuated if yot ] will?by this bold, masterful man, though of late he inspired her with a foreboding and a fear?of what sho scarcely i knew, except that she was powerless ; against his passion and his will. Could j she have laid hold of anything tangible j wherewith to combat her untoward preference for him, sho might do something to assert herself. But as it was, though hardly happy with him, sho felt that sho ! would bo wretched without him, and so | ?sho drifted. CHAPTER VII. ' l-ARSON T1LNEY. In a day or two there arrived at the camp of the boomers a lean, sad faced ; ' man, clad in homespun. Ho carried a i pair of weather stained saddlebags on his shoulder, and he inquired for Arizony j Ducket t. When she came before him, j ' he surveyed her in a kind of melancholy ' admiration. "You don't know me, I reckon," he cnid unrilv "Vr>t. how should VP? All 1 J I | yes?ah, yes?how should ye?" I "No. I can't say as 1'vo ever seen you . ; before," she replied, regarding him curi- j 1 ously, yet vaguely touched, for he looked j i pathetically lonely and forsaken. There j 1 was also a half abstracted, wondering 1 air about him, as of one long imprisoned, j 1 i suddenly let loose amid stry.ngo sights | 1 and sounds, with only old memories left j as a familiar token. "You're just like your mother was," he j 1 I said, taking her hand?"just like her 23 j 1 year ago. Tho very day before sho and i your father went away she looked at me, J just as you do now?only a littlo softer j perhaps. Arizony, child, can't you think | who I am?" Something like hidden tears sho felt t within her eyes, though why she hardly j ( knew. So fondly, so gently he stroked j her hand; so fondly, so gently his faded j eyes seemed to seek recognition in hers ' that, almost without thought, an intui- ; tion came. j { i :: jii | r i' i; no one seemed to know exactly what. Something severe and decisive, however; endurance was yetting to no znucn too tamo. Besides, it was useless; it did no good whatever, except to their enemies ?vaguely typified by all in authority. "There's Arizony now," said Chickasaw John, nodding at the girl who, with her eye upon him and her hand upon Burl's arm, had alone given no sign of assent to these varied sanguinary sonti,\?f ,,,, y ~ y ?y /t i?i j?- i 1 ; "So. I cnn't say ox I've ever seen ynu l>c- ' 1 fore." "You must be," she said at last, "1110111- ; er's old sweetheart." The old man nod- ! ded gratefully. "And you married her at last. I was glad to hear of it; to feel j 1 I that she had some ono to care for her 1 back there." Something in the parson's cyo here 1 caused her to pause and regard him keen- j 1 ly. His head drooped and his liptrem- I I bled. Suddenly sho seized his hand. "Where is she?" asked the girl anxiously. "Aro you here alone? You look sad ! ?ah! I might hnvo known something j was wrong. Tell me?where is my mother?" i "Didn't you get my letter?" I10 re- l turned, greatly shocked. "1 writ ali about it. She wanted me to go to yon? 1 1 so?hero I am." "But mother?where is she?" "In heaven, 1 hope. Don't cry, my j : child. The good Lord has taken her. She died happy and a-prayin for you." j 1 Arizony burst jnto tears. They were alono in the cabin of Chickasaw John, j While the parson soothed and counseled, i it required some effort 011 his part to banish a perverse fancy that this was Rinnie?his Rinnie, as she had leaned j 1 upon him a fourth of a century before. ; Yet his Rinnie was inoldering into primal dust 800 miles away, under the shadow I ; of her native mountains. "I ought to have gone back with her," \ sobbed Arizony. "She begged 1110 to go. | She wasn't strong, and this climate 1 didn't suit her toward the last. But? i Burl?he wouldn't agree. I reckon sho ! told you about Burl. Ho wouldn't say I yes, and seems like I hnvo to do a good . deal as ho says. Not that I'm really j afraid of him." Arizony raised her head j in a weakly defiant way, but it fell dejectedly again. "It ain't that altogether, ; ! but he ovcrpcrsuades me somehow. Now i | ?I'm all alone?except for Burl" I "No, child, you have mo. I'vo com all tho way hero to look after you, t take you back if you'll go. It was you mother's wish." "Burl won't let ine, I know. We'r to bo married soon. Mother's death ma put it off. 'But lio'll want me; don't yo forget that!" "Do you truly lovo this man?" Tho parson gently raisod her face an looked into her eyes. His own wer grave, tender and solicitous. "Yes, I lovo him. I used to think i wns srunethinf? else that held me. bu now I know it must bo love." "How do you know it, Arizony?" "I can hardly tell you how. Perhap it's because ho is so masterful. Ho is s much of a man. Every one fears hir and looks up to him here. I always hav to do as he says. If I didn't lovo hin why should I? I always used to do as pleased?till ho came. Oh, mothei motherl If you were only hero. I'r very, very unhappy, Parson Tilney." "Can't you?can't you call me fathei Arizony? I know I ain't your real fa ther, but?I?I loved your mother Ion, aforo you was born. Just as sho wa passin away, sho whispered, 'Tell Ari zony to call you father?fQr my sake She said for her 6ako, chilu, or perhap I wouldn't diiro ask it of ye." "Father," sho said affectionately, the: laying her head upon his shoulder wop quietly, whilo he, holding her hand spoko soothingly as if to a trouble child. Presently tho wifo of Chickasaw J oh; camo in and greeted the parson in weak, discouraged way. Burl Yate and her husband wero absent from th camp. The poor woman seemed inuc divided between sympathy for Arizon and a desire to impress upon Parson Ti ney a duo sense of tho hardships of boomer's life. Fler own especial woe she could only account for tinder he general belief that "the world wa a-growin wickeder and wickeder, 'spesl ly in the nation." The parson, howevei opined that the "good and tho bad wer pretty well mixed everywhere," an ide to which Mrs. Chickasaw John woul by no means agrea It's wuss here than it used to bo i Illinoy," she averred. "I offen wish w was back there, but John, ho won't giv up. ties u usrriuie uuiiu iu buck, hang. John is, and right here we're he! ourselves till we've nothin left to stic with 'cent four hands and a pair of emj ty stomachs. The robbin and the mui derin as is done out here?well, it s ack chilly onknown, sir. Hero was the stag over beyont Kickapoo stopped tothe night. Burl Yates says they hardly lei em the clothes to kiver their nakedness and now here is Arizony in trouble, an you too. I'm sure I'm sorry for you botl but that stage now?land alive! was yo along, parson?' Tho parson acknowledged that he wa along." whereat Mrs. Chickasaw Joh looked him over curiously as if endea\ oring to find that statement venfaed l some way by the absence of clothes They didn't tech our clothes, cor tinned tho minister, 'nor our shoes nel ther; consekently they didn't git but little of my money. 1 had it down in sock leg. though if tho rest had a don likewise they might 'a' made us all strjr But they didn't seem to s'pishion me. And so you was really there. Cluck fvsaw John's wife grew sympathetic a once. "Dear Lordl And they round? j-e up rough. I reckon. Well, well Keep your seat. Arizony. 111 get th parson a bite. You must bo hungry al ter goin through all that. We ham t go nuthin much to eat. but sech as i LS She turned away with a inelanchol, nod, as if regretting tho necessity o Bucb explanations, or that nothing bettc was at hand for a hungry man. and h a preacher too , "Arizony." pleaded the parson, regard inc her solicitously as sho sat gazing ou absentmindedly over the stragglinj camp to where the reddish brown undula tion of distant prairie melted into a gra; horizon; "Arizony." said he, **1 wishyoi would tell me more about this man yoi are goin to marry Has he got any kn back in VirginnyV" I don't know for certain. 1 rathe think he has. but out west here we gen crally don't care as much where a mai comes from as the way he pans out afte we get to know him?see? Burl is al right. But?tell me. was my poor moth cr sick long?' . , . .. I think she'd been ailin a good while put she wouldn't let on till she had to and when she was finally took down sh went fast. Doctor said it was pnoumon) and that, with her nateral weakness am her many discouragements, sent her int a gallopin consumption, bhe taiK? about you to tho last, and you to leave tho nation and go bad there. You've^got property in Virginn now, Arizony." 1 wish Burl would let mo go. but h won't, 1 know." > 'There was some Yates overonSmok, run. near Ooltenah." said tho parsoi ruminatively 'They aud the Eakm fell out years and years ago. Did > oi know your own mother's father was sho down by a Yates when you were u baby That Yates feller was nuthin but a lu< then, and he ran away and hain t beei heerd of since.' Seems to mo 1 did hear mother spea of it. but what have we got to do witl these old quarrels?" ^ "That there Yates boy, hero the par son's hand closed gently over he was called Burl. I think. Yes. I? most sure lie was. Didn't you neve hear that?' .. Arizony pushed herself away trom th parson's side. An indignant firo gleamei through tho tears that yet lingered hCr,Have you come way here from m; dead mother's grave?offering your love asking mo to call you father-onlyTo tc ino these things? And of Burl too? 0 it's?it's?hardly Christian to s pishwi and slander any man behind his backl Child, childl" exclaimed Parson Til ?pv much disconcerted. "don t nidge oi y hasty What I say 1 say only for you good, as God gives 1110?blind and halt ing that I am?the power to seo and un derstand. This may bo another manhope it is?yet my mind misgives inc Tell 1110 this, Arizony Wo will prayfo the best, but if tho worst comes I wan you to be guided by mo. I'm a weal Did man, 1 know?strong only in desire for your happiness. I loved your mothe when she was like as you aro now. Le that love, which still endures and extend to you. bo a surety that 1 seek only you good. As your friend?as your mother' husband?and by the affection I bear yoi both, I beg von. Arizony. to be guidci by me. But tho idea that ho could look upoi Burl with distrust was asevero tax upoi her regard for her new father. She rc garded him coldly. Grief for tho tim was hardened into moroseness by suspi cion. Yet of what could sho suspect thi inoffensive old man, who had come 80 miles for her sake alone? Ho had noth lng to gain through intentionally fals imputations. Then sho sighed heavil; and again looked out over tho prairie. "1 don't ask much," continued th parson, onco more taking her hand though he found it cold and nerveles now. "If ho is not proved to bo utterl; unworthy, 1 say nothing. But in th other event, hov could you sleep, or evei hrpathn cnntmi'odlv. under the mora consequences of such a union. All nn turo would cry out against" "There," she exclaimed, "that will do I know him better than you. You alarn yourself needlessly. Burl will not spar mo, nor?God help us!?can I spare him You must never speak of this again?d< you hear, father? Seel I call you fa thor. No, you must never, never speal in this way again." "Never?" ho said solemnly. Ilis manner was earnest, impressiv and fatherly, but Arizony shook he head, flung out her hand in a protcstin, gesture and fled from his presence, leav ing him greatly discomposed. To in: CONTINI KII NK.XT WKKK. lo JWisrcttancous grading. ,l< i CLEVELAND ON SILVER. ^ Hf is a Frl?'ii?l of Silver hut is Opposed to ruliniitcil Free Coinage. i The Atlanta Constitution of last tl ; Thursday, prints a letter from I'resio j dent Cleveland to Governor Northen, i in which the president states his posi- i tion on the financial question at some ; I length. The letter is in reply to one ; written by Governor Xorthen on the j s i 15th ultimo. The governor refuses to j o give his letter out for publication, but n it is known that it presented a graphic j e condition of the political situation in j '? Georgia and the South, and urged upon 1 | the president me expediency 01 apuo' j lie utterance from him more coinpreQ ! hensive tlian his recent message as to j the proper policy to be pursued hy '? J congress upon questions affecting the k j stringency of the times and the needs | S of the people. It is understood that in 3 his letter Governor Northon pointed ! lj out the inroads being made in the Democratic ranks by the Populists, by i 8 | reason of the neglect or delay on the i i part of the Democratic majority in j ? ; congress to meet legislation on the j | I line of the party platform and pledges. ^ ! He dwelt especially upon the financial | | condition and political interest of the j a | farmers of the South, who constitute j ft { so great a proportion of the Democra- j s ; (>yQ i The president's reply to that letter j h | was received this evening and is as I y follows: [. "Executive Mansion, a "Washington, D. ('., Sept. 25,1803. j ,g "Hon. W. J. Northen, ,r "My Dear Sir: I hardly know how | g to reply to your letter of the 15th inst. i- It seems to me that I am quite plainly t on record concerning the financial 1 o question. My letter accepting the ; a nomination to the presidency, when ! d read in connection with the message | lately sent to congress in extraordinary ' n session, appears to me to he very ex- ! e })lieit. e "I want a currency that is stable and ! d safe in the hands of our people. I will t not knowingly be implicated in a con- j k dition that will justly make me in the | i- least degree answerable to any laborer i or farmer in the United States for a j :- shrinkage in the purchasing power of ; o the dollar he has received for a full ' r dollar's worth of work, or for a good ] 't dollar's worth of the product of his j !, toil. I not only want our currency to ; d be of such a character that all kinds j i. of dollars will be of equal purchasing | u power at home, but I want it to be of j such a character as will demonstrate I a a broader wisdom and good faith, thus I n placing upon a firm foundation our ! credit among the nations of the earth. n I "I want our financial conditions and , ! the laws relating to our currency so , i safe and reassuring that those who ; ' have money will spend and invest it in a | business and new enterprises instead i y | of hoarding it. You cannot cure fright ! e j by calling it foolish and unreasonable, j and you cannot prevent the frightened [ I man from hoarding his money. ! "I want good, sound and stable 1 money, and a condition of confidence | , that will keep it in use. Within the j limits of what I have written, I am a friend of silver, but I believe its proper C place in our currency can only be j fixed by a readjustment of our currency legislation and the inauguration i ? of a consistent and comprehensive | f financial scheme. I think such a thing r I can only be entered upon profitably ; I mid limipfiillv nftpr flip vpnpnl of tllft 0 "vrv,v"v " *v* --x j law, which is charged with our finan[. cinl woes. In the present state of the ; t | public mind, this law cannot he built j j? j upon, nor patched in such way as to j k. relieve the situation, y "I am, therefore, opposed to the free j j and unlimited coinage of silver by this j nlAnn i n rlrkrtnn slnn f lv Jim! I U | tUUIIHJ UlUllt ?HIV. MIUVJ.V..^ J, . a I am in favor of the immediate and ! i unconditional repeal of the purchasing J r ! clause of the so-called Sherman law. i- I "I confess I am astonished by the I | opposition in the senate to such prompt ' r action as would relieve the present 1 I i unfortunate situation, i- | "My daily prayer is that the delay j ; occasioned by such opposition may not < i. I he the cause of plunging the country i >. ! into deeper depression than it has yet ' e ! known, and that the Democratic party j may not he justly held responsible for ; 3 such a catastrophe. 0 j "Yours, very truly, "O rover Cleveland." i k ! A DAUIXU FEAT. v We had just witnessed a Mexican j bull light. Even that exciting scene, : ! however, had proved rather dull and i ,, unsatisfactory to the fiery audience, j () and at the close, the clown, from the i a center of the ring, announced : j "Tomorrow, at 2 o'clock, Senor Ca- | t balcro will check his horse, while riding : j at full gallop, on the brink of yonder ] cliff." | "Within two lengths of the brow?" i j Came from the audience. h : "Within two lengths?within five I, : feet!" The astonishment created by this . I announcement held the audience for i. | some moments in silence. It was a 1 proposal of such reckless daring that : r j it was difficult to believe that the maker of it was in earnest. Even e those fearless people were inclined to j 3 | fancy Senor Cabalero was not serious, j a but mocking them. ' The cliff to which the clown had j y pointed was part of the bluff that hem- j i, | mcd in the valley. It was a sort of j 1 promontory, however, that had jutted ! out from the general line, so as to be u a conspicuous object from the plain below. Its brow was of equal height with the rest of the precipice?of which J 0 it was a sort of buttress ; and a grassy r turf that appeared along its edge was i r the continuation of the upper plateau. l* j Its frout to the valley was vertical, i 1 without terrace of the ledge, although ' horizontal seams traversing its face r ! showed a stratified formation. From * the sward upon the valley to that upon k the heights was 1,000 feet. To gaze 9 ( up the precipice was a trial to delicate j T J nerves ; to look down put the stoutest to proof. The next day, at the appointed hour, j r a surging crowd in the valley stood 9 ' watching Senor Cabalero on the cliff. ? ! Every motion was noted. He first alighted from the saddle, stripped off ; his manga and carried it back and ! placed it out of the way. He next looks to his spurs to see that the straps , Q are properly buckled. After this he ; i.:< *iiiif set his sombrero g firmly on his head. He buttoned his q , velveted ollzoners down nearly to his 1 ankles, so that their leather buttoning* j 0 might not flap open and discommode y j him. His hunting knife, along with ! his whip, he gave to Don Juan. 0 Sen or Cabalero next turned to his | horse, which stood at this time with his j 3 neck curved proudly, as though lie di- j y vined that he was to he called upon for 0 some signal service. The bridle was ,j first scrutinized. The great hit, a ,1 Mameluke, was carefully examined j i. lest there be some flaw or crack in the j steel. The heailstrap was buckled to i i. j proper tightness, and then the reins I a i were minutely scanned. These were j o ' made of the hair of a horse's tail, close- j i. ly and neatly plaited. The saddle now j o had its turn. Passing from side to side j the athlete tied both stirrup leathers, j k and examined the great wooden blocks ; which formed the stirrups. The girth j was the last as well as the most impor- i 0 tant object of his solicitude. He loos- j r 1 ened the buckles on both sides, and S then tightened them, using his kr.ee to j 1.: 11'l.n.. .Iran.i, liio ! j I IIC CI IUS M 1IVI* UUU1II IV/ !!? / i liking, the tip of his linger could not I I have been passed under the strong leather hand. ! No wonder the horseman observed all this caution, as the snapping of a strap, or the slipping of a buckle, at ; the critical moment might hurl him : into eternity. Having satisfied himself that all was right, he gathered up the j reins and leaped gaily into the saddle. ; He first directed his horse, in a walk, along the edge of the clifi', within a few feet of its edge. This was to steady the nerves of both himself and the animal. Presently the walk became a trot, and then a gentle canter. Even ! this was an exhibition fearful to he- j hold, and many a Mexican gazed breathlessly. After awhile he headed back toward : the plain, and then, stretching into a ! gallop?the gait in which he intended to approach the clitF? he suddenly reined up, so as to throw his horse nearly on his haunches. Again he resumed the gallop, again reigning up, and this maneuver lie repeated about 1 a dozen times, now with his horse's j head turned toward the dill', and now j in the direction of the plain. At last Senor Cabalero was seen to i turn his horse's head toward the pro- j jceting clifl'and take a firm seat in the | saddle. The determined pose of his head showed that the moment had come for the final trial. A slight touch of the spurs started the noble steed, and in anther moment he was in full ] gallop, straight toward the brink of the j clifl'. The noisy Mexicans grew suddenly j silent, breathless. The suspense, however, was of short duration. The swift j strides had brought horse and rider 1 close to the verge?within half a do/.- ; en lengths. Yet the rein still hung j loose?the rider dared not tighten it?a j touch he knew would bring the horse | to a 'stand and that before lie had | crossed the line, and the feat would be I a failure. Another bound?and another?the j two-length line is crossed! another, I and, great (lod ! he will be over! But another was not taken. t?.?D r.?. tim I filial leap that would have carried i them over the fatal brink, the reins i suddenly tightened, the fore legs became fixed and spread, and the hips of the noble animal sank to the plain. There they poised, scarcely a yard from the edge of the cliir. While in this attitude the horseman raised his right hand, lifted his sombrero, and waved it above his head. It was a splendid spectacle from below. The dark forms of both horse and rider stood out strong against the light hack ground of the sky. The oval outlines of the steed, the trappings, every detail of the man in his picturesque and dramatic pose, could be seen distinctly ; and for the moment in which they were poised and motionless, the spectators might have fancied it all a superb equestrian statue, its pedestal the pinnacle of the el ill'.?11. T. Carlton in St. Louis Republic. A BLIND SPORTSMAN. Many stories are told of the wonderful things done by persons who have lost the sense of sight, but it would be hard to find in the common walks of life a blind person who could successfully compete with William Hill, a blind farmer of Hamburg, Conn., iu the performance of strange acts, says the Boston (llobe. Hill is about 34 years old, and with the exception of being blind, is in perfect physical condition. He lost his sight in a strange way when he was a boy of 1(1 years. In company with a number of his associates he was bathing in a mill pond. A thunderstorm came up suddenly. The bathers did not leave the water. A flash of lightning came and struck the j wnfnr nr?nr TTi 11 whn wjis nnrtiallv nar- ! alyzed by the shock. His companions ! got him ashore and he recovered, but ! his eyesight was affected, and in a few ! weeks lie became totally blind. With the loss of the sense of sight : his other senses became more acute, | especially that of hearing, until it became possible for him to measure long distances by the sounds that lie heard. | He recognized his friends readily by I the sound of their voices, and he could i distinguish the cows and oxen about : the farm by their lowing. When Hill was 22 years old his fath- J er died, and the work of carrying on j the farm devolved upon him. He i proved himself equal to the task. He , directed the planting of the crops and j ploughed the lields himself. He developed a talent for woodwork- \ ing and made many pieces of furniture j that it would puzzle an accomplished i workman with perfect eyes to dtipli cate. He built an ox cart and a sleigh j equal to any ever turned out by a professional wagon-maker. Kven in his earliest boyhood Hill was very fond of outdoor sports. For a time after his sight was destroyed he } was obliged to abandon the lield, but . lie couldn't long contain himself. Two years lie stood it. Then one day he surprised his mother by saying that he proposed to go up to the mead- ! ow brook and see if he couldn't hook a ; few trout. His mother tried to dissuade him j from doing it, but he was determined, j and getting his tackle he started out. ( Mrs. Hill sent one of the farm hands, unknown to William, to watch him, j for fear that he would become lost or tall into the stream. Hill was gone three hours, and then returned with a string of tine trout. . He was elated over his success, and from thut time he lias followed the sport as fearlessly and successfully as he ilid when a hoy. lie says that he feels as confident of himself in a locality with which he j is as familiar as he would if he could see i all the objects about him. He seems J to be guided by a sense to which he I was a stranger before he became blind. In a strange locality lie is influenced , by the same sense, but realizes the | necessity of being cautious. For some reason the domestic ani- I mals about the farm show a regard for j the man that seems like sympathy, i The sound of his voice brings them ; about him, and when he goes into the j field to yoke the oxen lie calls the animals by name and they obediently lake the place under the yoke assigned j to tlieni. lie rides horseback when traveling a longdistance. He never attempt? to drive a horse to a wagon unattended, j for fear of a runaway. In the saddle j be considers himself capable of governing the beast. Perhaps the most wonderful thing | Hill does is to shoot birds. In the season for (mail and partridge shooting and duck hunting, he is in the fields or j meadows a good share ot'tlie time, and often alone. There are extensive hunting grounds \ on his farm, and with them he is very familiar. I'artridge and quail arc the , birds that he hunts most successfully. : These he always shoots on the wing, judging the distance and the direc- i tion in which they ate (lying by the > sound they make. His aim seldom fails him, and the 1 game that falls under his gun is brought i to him hv a thoroughly trained retriev er. He frequently brings home from a day's outing a string of a dozen birds. When duck shooting he is accompanied by other hunters. This sport is a nonular one in the marshes alone the Connecticut river. The most favorable hour for shooting [ is at twilight, and on such occasions I fill is a valuable adjunct to a hunting , party, for his acute hearing enables I him to announce the approach of a I ilock of ducks some seconds before they are sighted. In shooting this kind of game he is guided by sound, as in the shooting of i quail and partridge. As an amateur checker player he has never met his match. This game is a popular one in the country districts of j Connecticut, and in the country gro- ' eery stores a good many men can be found who are expert players. For , miles around Hill's home his fame has ! spread, and frequently he is challenged ' by some player who thinks that he is ' auie 10 ueieui mm. lie lias the record of winning every | game played during the past five years. ! lie plays the game slowly, carefully j feeling out the position of the men on the board with his lingers. Of late years Hill has shown a deep j interest in spiritualism, and has be- i come a linn believer in that faith. He i asserts that he is guided in his under- ! takings by an influence that he be- j lieves comes from his friends in the ' shadow world. One night, last winter, Hill and a party of acquaintances visited a neigh- | bor's bouse for the purpose of holdiug j i;a circle." When they started to return they found it snowing. They j were obliged to cross a wood lot, and in doing so the darkness and snow confused them and they were unable to find their way out. When Hill found out that the leader : of the party was bewildered, he told them to follow him ; that he could take i them to the road. The party had but : little faith in his ability to do so, but j they followed him and lie took them ' directly to the road. The party was | thus saved from wandering about the j woods all night. CAUSE AND EFFECT. The New York Sun proves that since 1885 the revenue derived from the cultivation of each acre of corn, wheat, I oats, hay and cotton, has exceeded the ! cost of production very little if any. ; About 30,000,000 people inhabit the ; farms of the United States. If the fig- | urcs of The Sun be correct?and we ; see no reason to doubt them?the workers among these 30,000,000 have for eight years received barely laborers' j wages. consequently mey nave i only had money enough to spend for ; the absolute necessaries of life. They i have not had the power to purchase | the products of the labor of others, and this has decreased the demand for | such products. Mills and factories ! have shut down, throwing laborers [ out of employment and still farther j decreasing the various articles of com- j merce. Thr Sun fails to examine into the | cause of the conditions which have I caused the doleful state of affairs it pic- ! tures so well. The cause will be learn- ! ed by a study of the following table: AVKIIAUK PKICK OK Years. Cotton. Wheat Silver. | 187 2 194 $1 47 $1 .'12 j 187 3 18? 1 32 1 2!) 187 4 153 1 43 1 27 1K75 15 1 12 1 24 18711 13 1 24 1 14 187 7 1U 1 17 1 19 187 8 11 1 31 1 12 187 9 93 1 07 1 lli 188 0 Ill 1 25 1 14 1KS1 113 1 H 1 13 188 2 113 1 19 1 1'3 188 3 103 1 13 1 11 188 4 lOJ 1 07 1 lOJ 188 5 104 80 1 0<U 1880 93 87 08 1887 9.1 89 97 1KHH <N X5 94 I 188 9 92 90 944 189 0 104 ?{ 1M| 189 1 10 K{ 90 18112 7j SI) Hli 1893 7 i 72 78 The full of the value of the leading I agricultural products has kept pace 1 with the fall of the value of silver, and 1 there is 110 resisting the conclusion j that the one is caused by the other, j Demonetization caused the fall of silver's value. Gold has been made to do double duty since 1873, and the effect is shown by the above table.?Columbia Register. RANDOLPH'S STORMY DEATH. The last days of John Randolph, of : Roanoke, are full of pathos. He j thought he was dying for years before ! he did so, and when he was asked \ how he was he would reply : "Dying! dying! dying!" He was tyrannical and 1 dictatorial to the last, and he fought I with his doctor on his death-bed over : the pronunciation of certain words. His death occurred in a Philadelphia hotel. A few minutes before he died the <1r?n?r>v wnntpri fn laavn him. hut Ran- I dolph objected and his slave took the key, locked the door and put the key in his pocket. With his lust words Randolph declared that he wanted his slaves freed, and he kept the doctor there as a witness of-his dying de- | duration. A skeptic through life, he i appreciated his condition when on his j death-bed, and among his last words j was "remorse." He was lying per- I fectly quiet, with his eyes closed, | when he suddenly roused up and | screamed out in an agitated voice: "Remorse ! remorse! remorse!" He j then cried out: "Let me see the word ! i (Jet a dictionary! Let me see the , word !" There was no dictionary at j hand, and lie was told so. He ex- j claimed : "Write it, then ! Let me j see the word !" The doctor picked j up one of his cards labeled "Randolph, of Roanoke." "Shall I write it on | this?" "Yes; nothing more proper," was Randolph's reply. The word remorse was written on it in pencil and J handed to him. He looked at it a i moment with greater intensity. "Write j it on the back," he exclaimed. It I was done and handed him again. He ; looked at it with his blazing eyes. ' Kenior.se! ' lie saw, "yon can nave no idea of it whatever: it has brought me 1 to my present situation?hut I have I looked to Jesus Christ and I hope to obtain pardon." He then asked the : doctor to draw a line under the word and told him to keep the card. A short time after this his keen eye began to dull, his powerful mind gave way, and within two hours he died. -? ? The Table Napkin.?Curiously : enough, the article now considered ' almost indispensable, the tahlc napkin, 1 was first used only by children, and '< was only adopted by the elder members of the family about the middle of the I fifteenth century. In etiquette hooks ' of an earlier date than this, among other sage pieces of advice to children, 1 are instructions about wiping lingers and lips with their napkins. It seems j that the tablecloth was long enough to no,ill flin flnnr unit snrvod tllO jrrmvil people in place of napkins. When they did begin to use napkins, they j placed them first on the shoulder, then ' , on the left arm, and finally tied about the ] neck. They became popular in France sooner than in England. At one time j < it was customary at great French din- i ; ners to change napkins at every course, : to perfume them with rose water, and to have them folded a different way for each guest. A WoNDKKlTI. I'KNSION Hoi.L.? The pension roll of survivors of the war of 1812 is a wonderful list. There 1 are lfio soldiers and sailors on it. Six of them are 100 years old, five are 101 years old, four 102 years old, two arc 108 years old ; one, John W. Ireland, of North Carolina, is 104 years old, j and one. John Downey, of Alabama, is 10") years old. Of pensioned widows of men who fought in that war, there are 0(551 surviving. Of course, the reason why the number of them is so great is that many of the old soldiers married late , in life?often 011 their deathbeds. In numerous instances, while with one foot in the grave, they wedded young I girls. Too frequently, there is reason to believe, they were sought as husbands for the sake of the money allowances they received from the government, and which they could bequeath. Twenty widows of soldiers who < i . ? \i > IOUgni in ilie American ruvuiuuun miu draw pensions. Does it not seem wonderful ? Two daughters of revolutionary heroes have been pensioned by special act of congress. There are 15,215 survivors of the Mexican war still on the pension lists, and 7.282 widows of soldiers who took part in that conflict. EXTRAORDINARY BOOKKEEPING. A case of extraordinary bookkeeping is the following, told to a reporter of a Yankton paper, of a hotel-keeper out in that wild country: "The landlord could neither read nor write. He did not know how to spell his own name, but he did a thriving business, and collected every dollar of his accounts. Once, years ago, when I first came to this country, I went to his ho- tel and stopped there two weeks. When ; I left he presented me with a statement of what I owed him, and it was a curiosity. He had copied it from his ledger. At the top of the sheet there was a rude picture of a soldier on the march, and after it three straight marks. Then there was a scene showing a man at table eating. Then appeared a bed with a man in it. In the amount column there was a picture of a doll, and after it the two letters US. After the picture of a man eating, there were forty-two marks. After the view of a man in bed there were fourteen marks. I looked at the account, then at the proprietor, and told him it would take me a week to answer that conundrum. I was completely stumped, and when that hotel man deciphered the account for me it was this: The nicture of tho soldier walking meant March, and the three marks supplied the date, March 3, when I began boarding. The man at table with forty-two marks after it indicated that I had eaten forty-two meals. The man in bed with fourteen marks showed that I had slept in the house fourteen nights. The doll with KS after it meant dollars, and in the figure columns appeared the figure 14, which was the amount I owed h'm. And it was a true bill." Got 'Km Mixed.?"A laughable incident occurred here recently," said a well-known clerk, lately. "It is customary in checking bundles and valises at the hotel stand to give a check to the guest and retain the other one on the straps. Well, the other day two valises nearly alike were checked. "Now, a check-stand man makes an error sometimes, and gets the numbers of checks twisted around. He checked these particular valises during a rush, and excitedly gave the duplicate checks to the waiting guests. The reuulr wfia ? T.ittle Hut tereiin mixture in which the lady got the check belonging to the gentleman, and vice versa. The baggage was taken up to the respective rooms. The young man, who is especially modest, was horrified on opening the valise he had received. It contained by actual inventory a box of pink powder, a curling iron, some immaculate linen, a veil, box of broad gauge hairpins, and a glove buttoner. "A scream wafting over the transom of a neighboring room on the same floor demonstrated that the young lady had discovered the contents of the valise she had received, which rightfully belonged to the horrified young man. Its contents consisted of a bottle of McBrayer Extract, a deck of Hoylc, one Smith & Wesson, one large stick of mustache wax, a paper of smoking tobacco, and a temperance essay. There was a wild rush for the check stand, mutual explanations followed and the error was straightened out. But, say, it would be embarrassing, don't you know." filar Last week Prof. Elisha Gray's Telautograph was tested in the presence of a number of newspaper men, scientists, and others. This new instrument, the result of its inventor's careful and patient study and deft manipulation, provides the means by which writing can be done by electricity. It consists of a transmitter and receiver at each end of a line, which may stretch across a street or across a continent. A person sending a communication takes the pen and writes what he has to say on the paper arranged on me instrument. At the other end the message is exactly a reproduction on paper placed on the receiver, and the person for whom the message is intended has an autograph letter whose authenticity cannot he disputed. Higher criticism would bo necessary to discover dual authorship. The very motions of the pen 011 the receiver reproduce the peculiarities of the writer. The usefulness of this successful invention is at once apparent. It is an advance upon both the telegraph and telephone, and will doubtless rank along with them in faciliating the business of life. Visitors to the World's Fair will have an opportunity of seeing the telautograph at work in the electricity building, and beyond peradventure the name of Professor Gray will henceforth be linked with those of the most eminent laborers in the field of electrical science. Tea Culture ix America.?Shortly after the war of secession the United States minister of agriculture instituted an experiment in tea growing on an estate near Charleston, but the results were not encouraging, and after a short time the enterprise was abandoned. A further attempt has now been made to raise tea 011 the same estate, and the experiments have been supervised by Mr. Cottam, a tea planter of considerable experience in Ceylon. Mr. Cottam states that the produce of this South Carolinian estate is fully equal in quality to the teas grown in India and Ceylon, and that in his opinion the United States can easily produce the ninety million pounds of tea which it now consumes annually. There are, he says, millions of acres that are suitable for tea cultivation?notably the lands inside the yellow pine belt?and an abundance of cheap labor can be had. ? Dakota originally formed a part of the territory of Minnesota. It was a portion of the great Louisana purchase in 1803. The Nebraska territory was formed in 1S.">4, and comprised a part of what is now Dakota. The latter territory was organized by act of congress, approved March 2, 1801, and included the present States of Montana and Washington. In 1803 a part of the territory included in Idaho, of which the northeastern part was organized as Montana in 1804, and the southern part was transferred to Dakota. A Cahi.k's Lknuth.?The nautical terms used in the accounts of the Victoria disaster puzzle many, and the principal one is, What is a cable's length? The cable, like the knot, is only used in maritime parlance. It is 100 fathoms, or 000 feet. The evolution ordered by Admiral Tryon at six cables' length consequently brought two mammoth battleships to converge within .'5,(500 feet. The maneuver was nothing but what a landsman would call a countermarch, but the columns converging instead of diverging. SaT""! have met this man," said a lawyer with extreme severity, "in a great many places where I would be ashamed to he seen myself." And lie paused and looked with astonishment at the smiling court and jury.