Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t - . _ lewis m. gbist, Proprietor. I Sin independent Tamils Jlcicspaper: <?or the promotion of the ?olitioal, Social, ^Lflncultural and Commercial interests of the jsontlt. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL. 40. YOBKVILLE, S. C? WEDNESDAY, MAY 2, 1894. ISTO. 18. FOES mi -? BY CAPT.CHAS Author of Dunraven Ranct Portia, The Deserter, Copyrighted, 189A by Chas King. CHAPTER XII. It is a sultry day. early in duly, and the sun is going westward through a 1 fleet of white, wind driven clouds that Rpnd a host of deeu shadows sweeping and chasing over the wide prairie. Northward the view is limited by a low range of bluffs, destitute of tree or foliage, but covered thickly with the summer growth of bunch grass. South- ; ward, three miles away at least, though it seems much less, a similar range, pierced here and thero with deep rn- 1 1 vines, frames tho picture on that sid<. Midway between the two ridges and fringed with clumps of cottonwood and willow, a languid Btream flows silently eastward and is last with the valley in the dim distance. Out to the west in , long,gradual curve tho southward range veers around and spans the horizon. Midway across this monotone of landscape, cutting tho stream at right an- I gles, a hard prairie road comes twist- ! f ing and turning out of one of the south- ; ern ravines, and after a long, gradual dip to the ford among the co.tonwoods j emerges from their leafy shade and goes winding away until lost among the "breaks" to the north. It is one of the routes to the Black Hills of Dakota ?the wagon road from the Union Pacific at Sidney by way of old Fort Rob> inson, Neb., where u big garrison of ' some 14 companies of cavalry and infantry keep watch and ward over the Sioux nation, which, one year previous, was in the midst of the maddest, most successful war it ever waged against the white man. That was the eenten- ] nial year?1876. This is another eventful year for the cavalry?1877; for be- j fore the close of the summer even the j troops so far to the southeast are destined to be summoned to the chase and capture of wary old Chief Joseph?the greatest 1 Indian general ever reared upon the j Pacific slope?and even now, on this July day, here are cavalrymen at their accustomed task, and though it is five years since we saw them under the heat and glare of the Arizona sun there are familiar faces among these that greet us. All along under the cottonwoods below the crossing the bivouac extends. Long before sunrise these hardy fellows were in saddle, and in long column have come marching down from the north?four strong troops?a typical battalion of regular cavalry as they looked and rode in those stirring days that brought about the subjugation of the Sioux. Out on the prairie the four j herds of the four different troops are j quietly grazing, each herd watched by its trio of alert, though often apparently dozing, guards. One troop is made up entirely of black horses, another of sorrels?two are of bays. Another herd is grazing close to the stream? the mules of the wagon train?and the white tops of these cumbrous vehicles are dotting the left bank of the winding water for 200 or 800 yards. Cook fires | are smoldering in little pits dug in the yielding soil, but the cooking is 1 over for the present. The men have had their substantial diuner and are now smoking or sleeping or chatting in groups in the shade?all but a squad of a dozen, commanded by a grizzled vetpran nn whose worn blouso the chev rons of a first sergeant are stitched. Booted and sparred, with carbines slung and saddles packed, these sun tanned fellows are standing or sitting at ease, holding the reins of their sleepy charg ers and waiting apparently for the passengers who are to start in the stout built Concord drawn by four sleek, strong looking mules, now standing in the shade near the canvas homestead of the commanding officer. Presently two soldiers following a young man in civilian dress come forward lugging a little green painted iron safe, and this, with a swing and a thud, I they deposit in the wagon. "You've seen that before, sergeant." ! laughs the civilian. "1 have, begad, an when it had a heap moie green inside an less outside than it has now. Faith, I never expected to see it again, nor the paymaster I either. We were both bored through j an through. 'Twos our good habits that saved us. Sure your predecessor was a game fighter, Mr. Barnes, if he was a tenderfoot." "Yes. the major often tells me he wishes he had him back, and mo in the place ho has instead of the one he had," ; answers the clerk whimsically. "Does i he know you're to command the escort in? You got him into such a scrape j then that he's never tired of telling of it." - j "Then he may feel gratified at the I honor 1 am doing him now. Sure it's j beneath the dignity of a first sergeant to command a squad like this except on an extraordinary occasion, an it's to j taKO tne rasie or me iasi rime out or nis mouth 1 volunteered to escort the major now. 'Twas a strong taste to last | five years, though my reminder will go with 1110 many a year longer. Here they come now." As the sergeant speaks a little group of officers issues from the battalion commander's tent. Foremost among | them, in loose flapping raiment and broad brimmed hat and green goggles, is tho rotund and portly shapo of Major Plummer, the paymaster. "Well, old man."says the cavalry leader, "you can hardly get into a scrape 'twixt here and Sidney. We've seen you through all right so far; now we'll go 01: about our scouting. Your old friend Feeny asked permission to see you safely to tho railway." "What, Feeny, and a first sergeant too? I'm honored indeed! Well, 6ergeant,"he adds, catching sight of tho grizzled red face under tho old ! 6couting hat, "I'll promiso to let you run tho machine this time and not interfere, no matter what stories como to us of beauty in distress. All ready?" "All ready, sir, if tho major is." "Ho wasn't that civil to mo in Ari- ' zona," laughs tho paymaster as lie turns to shako hands with tho officers about him. "You see yon were new to the business then." explains a tall captain. "Feeny considers you u war veteran now, after your experience at Moreno's. We all had to servo our apprenticeship as suckling lieutenants before he would I show us anything but a semblanco of respect. Goodby, major; good luck to you." "Goodby all. Goodby, Drummond. Goodby, Wing. Here! I must shake hands with you two again." And shako he does; then is slowly "boosted" into his wagon, where, as tho whip cracks and tho mules plungo at their collars and tilt him backward, the major's jolly red face beams on all around, and ho waves his broad brimmed hat in ex uberant cordiality as they rattle away. The group of officers presently disperse, two tall lieutenants strolling off together and throwing themselves under the spreading branches of a big cottonwood. One of them, darker and somewhat heavier built now, but muscular, active, powerful, is Drummond; the other, a younger man by a brace of years, tall, blue eyed, blond bearded wearing on his scouting blouso the 6traps of a second lieutenant, is our old friend Wing, and Wing does not hesitate in presence of his senior officer ?such is tl]e bond of friendship between - . KIXU, II 8. A. ? i, Two Soldiers, An Army Soldier's Secret, Etc. them^fo draw from linf Ureusf pocket a lett?r just received that day when the courier met tuem at tno crossing or the Dry Fork, and to lose himself in its. contents. "All well with the madam and 'the kid?" queries Drummond, after the manner of the frontier, when at last Wing folds and replaces his letter, a happy light in his brave blue eyes. "All well. Paquita says that Harvey has captured the entire household, and that Grandpa Harvey is his abject slave. The.e isn't anything in Chicago too good fcr that 2-year-old. They've had them photoed together?the kid on his grandfather's shoulder." "Aren't you afraid his Arizona uncle will be jealous for his own boy's 6ako?" laughs Drummond. "I don't believe Ned would begrudge Fanny anything the old man might feel for her or for hers. Ho is generosity itself toward his sisters, and 6urely 1 could never have found a warmer friend ?out of the army. You know how he stood by mo." "I know, and it was most gratifying ?not but that I feel sure you would have won without his aid. The old man simply couldn't quite be reconciled to her marrying in the army and living in Arizona." "A strange land for a honeymoon certainly?yet where and when was there a happier? Do you remember how the Apaches jumped the Verde buckboard the very week after we were married?" "And you spent half of the honeymoon scouting the Tonto basin? I should say so! What with a courtship in a robbers' cave, a marriage in a cavalry camp and a wedding tour in saddle, you had a unique experience, Wing, but?you deserved her." And Drummond turns und grips his comrade's hand. Wing is silent a moment. His eyes are wistfully searching the elder's half averted face. "Jim, you told mo awhile ago of your j ?;o4-a*.'o innrriflffA A Tf* OIDIVJL O VUVUin^ tuu**?ugvi ?? you not going on?" "Yes. It will be early in October. She's blissfully happy, is Puss, and he's a very substantial, solid sort of a fellow. I'm well content, at last, that her future is assuied." "And you are a free agent practically. Isn't it timo we heard of your own happiness?your own viuo and fig tree, old man ?" "Time's gone by, I reckon," laughs Druminond, yet not merrily. "I've j had too much to think of?too much responsibility?and probably havo lost i my chance.'' Wing looks as though he wanted i mightily to say something, but conquers his impulse. "October is a long way off," he linally remarks, "and I thought you might | find earlier opportunity of going east. Now that Ned has entire chargo of the j business in Arizona the old gentleman j takes lift} easier. Tho winter in Cuba ! did him a lot of good, and Fan writes ; that he seems so happy now, having his two girls and his little grandson under tho same roof with his sister and her children. What a reunion after all these years!" "Where are they living in Chicago?" "You would know better than I, for ?think of it!?I have never been east of the Missouri since my babyhood," answers Wing. "Fan writes that her | aunt has a lovely house on what they j call the North Side?near tho great waterworks at tho lako front." "1 know the neighborhood well," says Druminond. "Chicago is as fa- , miliar to me as San Francisco was to you. Only?I have no roof to call my own anywhere, and as soon as Puss is married shall not havo a relative or friend 011 earth who is not much more deeply interested in somebody else." And tho senior lieutenant is lying 011 his back now, blinking up at tho rapid- j ly scuddiug clouds. Presently he pulls tVin lirreul liritn nf his hat - ? - I o down over his eyes. "What do you hear from your mother, Wing?" "Nothing new. Bless the dear old lady! You should havo seen her happiness in flarvev. She could hardly bear to let tho littlo fellow out of her | arms, and how she cried and clung to him when we parted at tho Oakland wharf! Poor littlo mother! She has never given up tho hope of seeing that scapegrace of an uncle of mine again." "Has sho ever heard how ho tried to murder his nephew?" queries Drummond grimly. "Never. Nor havo wo the faintest trace of him since tho break up of tho old Morales gang at Fronteras. They went ull to pieces after their encounter with you and O troop. What a chain of disasters! Lost their leaders and threo of their best men, lost their rendezvous at Moreno's, lost horses and mules?for what our men didn't get tho Apaches did?and won absolutely nothing except the 2-1 hour possession of a safo they hadn't timo to open. Whereas I got my commission and my wife; Feenv, honorable wounds and mention and the chevrons of a first sergeant; Costigan got his sergeant's stripes and the medal of honor, Murphy his sergeantcy, Walsh und Latham medals and corporalships, and the only fellow who didn't get a blessed thing but 6cars was tho commanding lieutenant ?your worthy self?thanks to wiseacres at Washington who say Indian fighting isn't war." "Didn't I get a letter of thanks from the department commander?" grins Druinmoiul. "What elso could I expect?" "What else?" is Wing's impulsivo rejoinder. Then, as though mindful of some admonition, quieting at once and speaking in tono less suggestive, "Well, in your case I suppose you can bo content with nothing, but bless mo if I could." Then, suddenly rising and respectfully touching his weather beaten hat, ho salutes a stoutly built, soldierly looking man 111 rough scouting dress, whoso only badgo of rank is the tarnished shoulder strap with tho silver leaf 011 tho shabbiest old fatiguo coat to bo found in tho battalion, most of whoso members, however, wear 110 coat at all. "Hullo, Wing?didn't mean to disturb your siesta?Drunimond hero?" says tho commander in his offhand way, and at sound of tho well known voico Drunimond, too, is 011 his feet in a twinKimg. "Seen tho papers that camo in today?" queries tho colonel, obliteratirg from his sentences all verbal superfluities. "Not yet, sir; any news?" "H?1 to pay in Chicago, so far as heard from. Tho railway striko has taken firm hold there. Polico and militia both seem unablo to do anything against the mob, and tho authorities are stampeded. Your home, isn't it?" "It was once, sir. but that was many a long year ago." " W-e-ell," says tho colonel reflectively, stroking his grizzled beard,"it's my belief thero is worso to come. It isn't tho striking railway hands that will do tho mischief, but every time there's a strike all tho thieves and thugs and blackguards in tho community turn out. That's what happened in Pittsburg?that's what's tho matter in Chicago., It looks,to mo as though ] the plea for regular troops would have to be gran* d." "Think wo can get there, sir?" asks I Wing eagerly. "Can'tsay. We're supposed to have our hands full covering this section of Nebraska, though I haven't heard of a hostile Sioux this summer. Besides, they havo full regiments of infantry at 1 Omaha and along the lakes. Doesn't Mrs. Wing say anything about the ; trouble?" "Her letter is four days old, sir, and i only says her father looks upon tho situation as one of much gravity, but j women rarely see troubles of this kind j until they come to their doors." " Well, this is The Times of two days l ago. It reached Sidney at breakfast time this morning, and Hatton brought : two or three copies out when he came with tho mail. I thought you two might be interested." And with that tho ; colonel goes strolling along down tho bank of tho stream, pausing hero and thero to chat with some officers or give 1 V-X! 4.1 some oruer reiauve iu mo ui the horsc8?one of his especial "fads." And this evening, just as the sun dis; Steadily, silently, ominously, the train rolls atony. ; appears over the low blurt lying to the west and the horses are being picketed ; for the night, while from a score of cook I tires the appetizing savor of antelope i steak and the aroma of "soldier coffee" rise upon the air. a little dust cloud sweeps out from the ravine into which ! disappears the Sidney road and comes floating out across the prairie. Keen eyed troopers quickly note the speed l with which it travels toward them. Officers and men. who have just been I looking to the security of their steeds, pause now on their way to supper and stand gazing through tho gloaming at the coining cloud. In five minutes the cause is apparent?two swiu nuun, urging their horses to full speed, racing for the ford. Five minutes more and the foremost throws himself from the saddle in the midst of the group at the colonel's tent and hands that officer a telegraphic dispatch, which is received, opened, read with imperturbable gravity and pocketed. To the manifest chagrin of the courier and disappointment of his officers, the colonel simply says: "W-e-ell, I'm going to supper. You all'd better have yours too." "Why, blame his old hide I" pants tho courier later, "the quartermaster told me never to lose a second, but git that to him beforo dark. Tho hull outfit's ordered to Chicago by special train." And so, finding tho secret out, tho colonel presently puts aside professional sang froid and condescends to be humau again. "Get a hearty supper all round, gentlemen, then?'boots und saddles' and away for Sidney!" Two days later. A fierce July sun is pouring down a flood of humid, moisture laden heat upon a densely packed, sweltering mass of turbulent men, many of them flushed with drink, all of them flushed with triumph, for the ill armed, ill disciplined militia of the seventies?a pygmy force as compared with the expert "guardsmen" of today?has been scattered to tho winds; tho sturdy police have been swept from the streets and driven to the shelter of tho stations. Mob law rules supreme. Dense clouds of smoke are rising from sacked and ruined warehouses and from long trains of burning cars. Here and there little groups of striking employees havo gathered, holding aloof from the reckless and infuriated mob, appalled at tho sight of riot and devastation resulting from their ill advised action. Many of their number, conscious of their responsibility for tho scenes of bloodshed and pillage and wanton destruction of property, public and private, would now gladly undo their work and array themselves among tho few defenders of tho great corporations they have served for years and deserted at tho call of leaders whom they never saw and in a cause they never understood, but there can bo "no footsteps backward" now. Tlio tulo ol not lias cnguiicu tno great city of tlio west, and the majesty of tlio law is but the laughing stock of the lowest of the masses. Huddled in their precinct stations, the police are bandaging their bruised and broken heads. Rallied at their armories, tlio more determined of the militia are preparing to defend them and their colors against the anticipated attack of 50 times their I force in "toughs"?Chicago's vast i accumulation of outlawed, vagabond ! or criminal men. The city fathers are well nigh hopeless. Merchants and business men gather on 'change with blanched faces and the oft repeated query: "What next? What next?" j Every moment brings tidings of fresh dismay. New fires and a crippled an 1 helpless department, for tlio rioters slash tlio hose and laugh all efforts to scorn. A gleam of hope shono in at 1 10 o'clock, and tlio boardroom rang with cheers at the president's announcement that the regulars were coining?a whole regiment of infantry from Omaha was already more than half way. But the gleam died out at noon when, with white lips, an official read tlio telegram saying the strikers had "side tracked" the special trains bearing tlio soldiers, and thev could not advance another mile. And so they had on one road, but there arc others, better guarded, betterun. The sun is well over to the west again, Chicago is resigning itself to another night of horror, when from the . suburbs there comes gliding in to the ! heart of the city the oddest looking railway train that has been seen for , years, u sight at which it host of riotous men break away from the threatening front, dragging with them those "pals" whom drink has either maddened or stupefied; a sight at which skulking blackguards who have picked up paving stones drop them into th" gutters and think twice before they lay hand on their revolver butts. No putting engine hauls the train; the motivo power is ut the rear. First and foremost is a platform car?open, uncovered, but over its buffer glisten the barrels of the dreaded gatling gun, and around the gun?can these bo soldiers? Covered with dust and cinders, hardly a vestige of uniform among them, in the shabbiest of old felt hats, in hunt ing shirts of flannel or buckskin, 111 scout worn trousers and Indian leggings, but with their prairio bclN crammed with copper cartridges, their brawny brown hands grasping the browner carbine, their keen eyes peering straight into the faces of the thronging crowd, their bronze features set and stem, the whole car fairly bristles with men who have fought tribe after tribe of Kavaire foes from the Yellowstono to the Solium Hue, ami who hold a savage mob in utter contempt. Hero by the hub of the gat ling's wheel stands old Feenv, close at the elbow of dark faced Drummoml. C troop's first platoon, "mans" the gatling gun, and under its i old leader of the Arizona campaigns "leads the procession" into the Garden City of tlio antebellum days. By Drunimond's side is a railway official I gazing ahead to see that every switch. 1 is properly set and signaling" back to the engineer when to "slow," when tot come confidently ahead. Behind the ! plattorm car eonio ordinary oaggage and passenger coaches, black with men in tho sanio rough, devil may care scouting rig. All, except their horses and horse equipments left with the quartermaster at Sidney station, tho battalion has been run to Chicago exactly as it came from the plains, and Chicago's I "toughs," who would have hooted and \ jeered perhaps at sight of polished , brasses and natty uniforms, recoil bc| wildered before this gang of silent and ! disciplined "jayhawkers." Steadily, j silently, ominously, the train rolls | along. As it is rounding a curve several ugly looking follows are seen running at speed toward the switch lever ! at the next street crossing. Excitedly the railway man clutches Drummond's elbow and points. Two troopers are kneeling closo at hand. "Shoot if they touch that switch," says Drummond, and instantly the locks click as tho hammers are brought i to full cock. Tho foremost runner is almost at tho iron stand; his hand is outstretched to grasp it when a gasping, I warning cry reaches his ears. Glancing | back, ho sees his fellows scattering to j either side, and one loolc at tho smooth rolling car reveals tho cause; two carbines aro leveled at him, and Hat he throws himself on his face und rolls to ono side amid derisive laughter from , the strikers themselves. A littlo far, thcr on a knot of surly rioters aro gath; ered on tho track. No warning whistle sounds, and tho clanging bell is too far to the rear to attract their attention, i "Out of the way there!" is the blunt, ! roughly spoken order. No timo this i for standing on ceremony. Vengeful and scowling tho men spring aside, some stooping to pick up rocks, others reaching into their pockets for tho ready pistol, but rocks aro dropped and pistols undrawn as tho train whirls rapidly by, and wrath gives place to mystification. Who?what aro these I strange, silent, stubbly bearded, sun J tanned fellows in slouch hats, flannel shirts and tho worn old black belts over i tho shoulder? Even tho engino has its guard, and half a dozen of them, perch| ed upon the tender, havo leveled their i carbines to flank and rear, ready to let drive into tho crowd tho instant a brick is heaved or a triinror nulled. And so into the great stone station they roll, ard hero they find the platforms jammed with citizens?some drawn by curiosity, some active sympathizers in the strike, and many of them prominent leaders of the mob surg; ing in tlio crowded thoroughfare without. The train has hardly come to a ; stand when from every direction the mass of outsiders is heaving up around it. "Now, Feeny, clear the platform to the left. Take the other side, Wing," says Drummond quietly to tho officer at the front door of tho next car. In tho very fraction of a second tho first sergeant and a dozen men have i leaped from tho deck, and straight into ! the heart of tho crowd they go. "Back with ye! Out o'this!" are tho stem, determined orders, emphasized by vig: orous prods with tho heavy carbine ; butts. Astonished at methods so prompt \ and decided, tliero is only such resist| anco as the weight and hulk of those in | rear can offer, and that is hut moment| ary. Tho sight of those gleaming gatj ling barrels, the stern, brief orders and | tho rapid, confident advance combine I to overcome all idea of resistance. On I both sides, at the head of the train, the i liugo crowd, halt laughing, half suffocating, is heaved back upon itself and sent like a great human wave rolling up to tho iron lattice at the offico en". Meantime, without an instant's delay tho battalion springs out from tho cars, forms ranks on tho north platform, counts fours, and then, arms at right shoulder, away it goes with swinging, ; steady tramp around tho rear of tho j train, across the parallel rows of rails, ; and in another moment, greeted by tre| mendous cheers from tho occupants of long lines and high tiers of stores, offices, business blocks, tho grimy, dusty, war worn campaigners come striding down tho crowded street. Heavens, how tho people shout! Staid old burghers, r?r>vtl\- linci'noca mim trot nnntinrr Jilnnfr I,v" ' V j-" o??o side, wavinf their hats and cheering | themselves hoarse. "Them fellers | hasn't no bouquets in their guns," is the } way n street gamin expresses it. ! "Whither are they going?" "What have they first to do?" is the cry. Police officials ride now with the captain temporarily in command; a carriage has whisked the colonel over to headquarters, but haste! haste! is the word. On they go, silent, grim, with the alkali dust of the North Platto crossing still coating their rusty garb. A great swing bridge looms ahead; a dozen police deploy on either sido and check the attending crowd. Over they go at route step, and then, turning to the right, tramp on down a roughly paved street, growing dim ami dimmer every ininuto with stifling smoke. Presently they are crossing snakelike lines of hose, gashed and useless; passing fire apparatus standing unhitched and neg leeted; passing firemen exhausted and listless. Then occasional squads of scowling men give way before their steady tramp and are driven down alley ways and around street corners by reviving police. Then the head of column turns to tho left ami comes full upon a scene of tumult ?a great building in flames, a great mob surging about it defying police interference und bent apparently on gutting tho structure from roof to cellar and pillaging tho neighboring stores. Now, men of the ?th, here's work cut out for you I Drivo that mob, bloodlessly if you can, blood letting if you must! Tho colonel is again at tho head. All uro on foot. "Left front into line, double time;" tho first company throws its long doublo rank from curb to curb, Drummond, its commander, striding at its front, Wing, his subaltern, anxiously watching him from among tho filo closers. Already they havo reached tho rearmost of tho rioting groups, and with warning cries and imprecations these aro scurrying to either sido und falling into tho hands of tho accompanying police. Thicker, denser grows tho smoke: thicker, denser the mob. "Clear this street 1 Out of tho way!" aro tho orders, and for a half block or so clear it is. Then comes tho first opposition. On apiloo.: lumber a tall, stalwart man in grizzled beard and slouching hat?evidently a leader of mark among tho mob?is shouting orders and encouragement. What ho says cannot bo heard, but now, tightly wedged between tho rows of buildings, the mob is at bay, niul yelling mad response to the frantic appeals and gesticulations of their leader at least 2,000 reckless and infuriated men havo faced tho little battalion surging steadily up 1 tho narrow street. "You may havo to fire,Drummond," says tho colonel coolly. "Get in rear of your company." Obedient, tho tall lieutenant turns and follows his chief along tlio front of his advancing lino so as to pass around tho llanlc. ilo is not GO paces from tho pilo on which tlio mob leader, with half u dozen half drunken satellites, is shouting his exhortations. Just as tho lieutenant's arm is grazing grim old Fecny's elbow as ho passes tho first sergeant's station, a brick conies hurtling through tho air, strikes full upon tho luck of tho officer's unprotected head and sends him, face forward, into tlio muddy street. I In tlio yell of triumph that follows, Wing's voico for an instant is unheard. Obedient to its principle, "Never load until about to fire," the battalion's cari bines are still empty, but all on a sudden (J troop halts. "With ball car triages, ionu: is >v mg s nuurse, bium order. "Now aim low when I give the I word. Firo. by ^company. Company, I ready!" and Hko oho "tho hammers 1 | click. But no command "Aim" fol| lows. "Look out! Look out! For God's sakodon't fire! Out of tho way!" nro tho frantic yells from the throats of tho mob. Away they go, scattering down sido streets, alley ways, behind lumber piles, everywhere?anywhere. ' Many even throw themselves flat on their faces to escapo the expected tempest of lead. "Don't fire." says the ; colonel mercifully. "Forward, double I time, and givo them tho butt. We'll support you." Down from tho lumber ! J piles come the erstwhilo truculent lead! era. "Draw cartridge, men," orders Wing in wrath and disappointment. 1 "Now, butts to tho front, and give them h?1. Forward!" And out he j leaps to tako tho lead, dashing straight j into tho thick of the scattering mob, his : men after him. Thero is a minute of j wild yelling, cursing, of resounding 1 j blows and 1 rumpling feet, and in the midst of it all a single shot, and when | Wing, breathless, is finally halted two squares farther on only a dozen broken | headed wrotches remain along the street j to represent the furious mob that confronted them a few minutes before. Only these few r.nd ono w "'thing, bleeding form, around which half a dozen policemen aro curiously gathered, and ! at whoso sido tho battalion surgeon has ; just knelt. j "Ho's shot through and through," I is his verdict presently. "No power j ; can save him. Who is he?" "About tho worst and most danger; ous ringleader of riot this town has i j known, sir," is tho answer of ono of tho polico officials. "No ono knew I where ho camo from either?or his real j name." And then in his dying agony the fallen dcmagoguo turns, and the other side of his twitching faco comes uppermost. | Even through tho thin, grizzly beard i there is plainly seen an ugly, jagged scar stretching from car to chin. "This isn't his first row by any manner of means, if it is his last," says a ! sergeant of police. "Look at thatl j Who shot him unyhow?" j "1 did," is tho cool, prompt answer, and Sergeant Feeny raises his hand to j | his carried carbine and stands attention as ho sees the surgeon kneeling i there. "1 did, and just in the nick of i i time. Ho had drawn u bead on our lieutenant, but even if ho hadn't I'd have downed him, and so would any man in that company yonder." And i Feeny points to where C troop stands | ' resting after its charge, j "You knew him then?" "Know him instantly, as a deserter, thafe, highwayman and murderer? , knew him as Private Bland in Arizona | and would know him anywhere by that ! ! scar." I A policeman bends and wrenches a j i loaded revolver from tho clutching, | 1 quivering fingers just as Wing comes : striding back and shoulders his way ; into tho group. "Is ho badly hurt, doctor? That | ttas an awful whack." "It is tho lieutenant, sir," says Feeny ; respectfully, but with strange 6ignifij cance in his tone as he draws a police' man aside. "Look!" A U7inn? Vmnriinnr nvor ITlVPfl OflA AUU II iub, v.?, o glance into the dying face, then covers j his eyes with hands and turns blindly, I I dizzily, away. That evening a host of citizens are ; gathered about tho bivouac of the battalion at tho waterworks while the trumpets aro sounding tattoo. A few squares away the familiar notes come floating in through the open windows j of a room where Jim Drummond is ly- j j ing on u most comfortable sofa, which j has been rolled close to the casement I where every whiff of the cool lake j breeze can fan his face, and where, | glancing languidly around, ho contrasts 1 I tho luxury of these surroundings with i tho rudo simplicity of tho life he has j ! lived and loved so many years. Gray | haired George Hnrvcy, kindly Mrs. | Stone, his sister; blissful,beautiful Fan- I ' ny Wing with burly baby Harvey in ; her arms and her proud, soldierly husi band by her side, and a tall, lovely, si- I ! lent girl have all been thero to minister to his needs and bid him thrice wel- ' come and make him feel that here, if anywhere on earth, ho is at home. And hero tho battalion surgeon and tho fam- j j ily physician unite in declaring he must remain until released by their order, J and hero for three days and nights he is ; nursed and petted and made 60 much of that ho is unable to recognize himself, and hero sister Puss comes to cry over ; j and kiss and bless him and in her tun ; I to bo inado much of and forbidden to j leave, and then, after her big brother's i return to duty with tho battalion, now ! being fed and feted by all tho North : Side, ho must needs come over every i eveninir to see her. and. now that pre 6ontable uniforms have arrived and the I rough beards have been shaved and tho men of tho old regiment look less like | "toughs," but no more liko American soldiers as our soldiers look in the field of their sternest service, her sisterly pride in her big brother is beautiful to ' ! see?so is her self abnegation, for, i 6oraehow or other, though he comes to seo her, he stays to look at Ruth Harvey, shy,silent and beautiful, and soon, ; as though by common consent, that j corner of the big parlor is given up to those two, tho tall, stalwart trooper and | the slender, willowy girl. And one I evening ho comes earlier than usual in manifest discomposure, anil soon it transpires that important orders have I reached him. Fanny turns palo. "Are | you?all?ordered back?" sho cries j and is for an instant radiant at his as- | suranco that the order involves only : himself. Ho is called to department ! headquarters to report in person to the 1 general commanding, who is about to 1171mn ..I,,.... n*tn nlittirr. Inlii tin: ihihtn lure. I ?? - - niako a tour through the mountains in northwestern Wyoming ami wants Druuunoml with tho cseort. Sho is radiant only until sho catches sight of her sister's face. It is not so vory { warm an evening, yet sho marshals the 1 household out 011 tho steps, out on tho hack veranda?anywhere out of that I parlor, where, just as tho faint notes of ; | tho trumpets are heard sounding their 1 martial tattoo, and just us Lieuten- j | ant Wing, returning from a tiptoed ! visit to his sleeping hoy and escaped for tho moment from tho vigilance of ; his wife, now happens to go blundering in?thero is heard from the dimly lighted corner near the piano tho sound of subdued Bobbing. I he sound of a deep, j manly voice, low, soothing, wondrously happy, the sound?a sound?indescrib- j ablo in appropriate English, yet never i misunderstood?a sound at which Wing halts short, pauses 0110 instant irresoj lute, then faces about and goes tipto- : ing out into tho brilliant sheen of tho 1 vestibule lamps, into tho brilliant j gleam of his fond wife's questioning, reproachful eyes. And for all answer, it being perhaps j too public a spot for other demonstra; tion, Wing simply hugs himself. That night, under tho arching roof of j tho great railway station, tho comrades, j j so long united by tho ties of such re- I iifTiwiim as aro engendered i I only by years of dancer and hardship I borno ill common, and now so happily united by a closer tie, aro pacing tho platform absorbed in parting words. "Jim, think what a load I've had to carry all these fivo years and forbidden by my good ungel to breatho a word of it to you.'' "I can't realize my own happiness, old man. 1 never dreamed that, after she got out into tho world and saw for herself, that sho would remember her girlish fancy or have another thought for me." "I know you didn't. Yet Fun 6ays that ever since tho voyago in tho Newborn little Ruth has never had a thought for anybody else." There is u moment's silence, then Wintr sneaks norain: "There has not been timofor mother's letter to reach mo. 1 had to write, of course, anil tell her of tho fato that at last befell him. Do you know I feel as though after all it was my hand that did it." "How so?" "Feeny 6ays ho knew him tho instant that sido of his face was turned toward him?tho sido my knife lhid open years ago. That was a fatal scar." TlIE END. pisfrltimrous fading. HICK'S FORECAST FOR MAY. The month opens at the end of April's closing storm period, with storm disturbances disappearing in extreme eastern parts of the country, and cooler weather prevailing in central and western sections. An equinox of Mercury is central on the 3rd, and will cause cloudiness and tendency to continued drizzle. Jn the extreme north sleet need not prove a surprise. By the 4th decided change to warmer will develop in the west, and during the 5th to 7th, reactionary storms will pass over the country, being central about the time of new moon on the 5th. A sharp change to cooler will 4V?ilrt??r Aiutiiv\\nluipu nt. thi? time*. with strong probabilities of frost along the northern side of the country from about 7th to 10th. From 10th to 14th is the next regular period of change and storm. A very warm wave is apt to appear by the 11th, in western regions, and during the three days next following storms of much energy and wide scope will traverse the country from west to east. Another very cool wave for the season will come in behind the storms, causing several days of much cooler weather in the country generally. Heavy rains may reasonably be expected during the last named disturbances? namely about the 11th, 12th, and 13th, during which time a series of daily storms, recurring near the same time of day, or night, for several days, need not be unlooked for. Watch barometers, temperature and direction of wind ; if barometer fails to rise after one storm passes, with wind still in the east and south, expect another storm from the west, and so on until conditions change. The cool weather following the storms of the last period will give place to warmer, and secondary storms will appear in many places about the 17th and 18th, immediately after which, the barometer will rise rupidly to a very high reading, attended by a sharp change to cooler. From 21st to 25th, fulls the next storm period, during which time it will grow very warm, and many storms of ruin, thunddr and wind will appear. In all these disturbances, the intelligent use of the barometer, and correct observation of wind currents, will foreshadow with much certainty the coming and the intensity of storms. About the 27th and 28th, will be central the last disturbances for May, bringing fair and cooler days and nights for the closing month. In the nature of things, May must bring more or less violence, in a mefi.r?rnlr>frir>.?l U'flV hilt, there is U llini'kcd IVV>VlU|jlv,.. ""J 1 absence of disturbing causes, so far as other planets are concerned. There ure reasons to believe that storms will not lie unusually frequent and heavy. VAST AND URAND SECTION. Few of our renders have any adequate understanding of the greatness, the extent, the possibilities of what is described as the Northwest. This term embraces a large section of both the United States and Canada. We will give some statistics that will open wide the eyes even of the intelligent reader. The States included in the Northwest are Minnesota, Iowa, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Washington and Oregon. These States contain 859,.'125 square miles. This would make sixteen States the size of North Carolina. Montana would make three such States. There is one county in Minnesota, St. Louis, that is very nearly us large as both Connecticut and Rhode Island. Minnesota has 82,3(15 square miles. It would make more than ten States of the size of Massachusetts, or three times the size of New York. In Wyoming, which has 97,890 square miles, there are four counties either of which exceeds in size Vermont or Massachusetts or New Jersey. In Montana there are three counties either of which is larger than those three States combined. Leaving out Maine, all of the other Stutes east of the Mississippi river do not contain as many square miles as the ten Northwestern States combined. Minnesota has rivers (lowing southward, eastward and northward. Wyoming has rivers running in four directions. The Provinces of Canada, all told, contain a larircr area than all the United States omitting Alaska. Our square miles are 3,025,000; The Canadian Northwest alone has 3,470,392. That is a surprise we know. The Northwest of Canada contains l,24o,305 square miles. Greater, you see, hy nearly 50 per cent, than our own Northwest. Canada has more than one-half of the fresh water of the entire globe. Think of tliat. A recent writer says: "It is possible to go by water from the mouth of the St. Lawrence through the great lakes and down the Mackenzie to the Arctic Ocean, a trip of more than 0,000 miles, in which less than 159 miles will necessarily be on land. The gieat lakes of the Canadian Northwest are second in size only to the largest of the great lakes on the international boundary. Oreat Hear lake is 150 miles in length ; Athabaska lake, 230: while the Great Slave lake is more than 300 miles long and bus an average width of 50. The Mackenzie river is described hy Archbishop Clutt us a deeper, wider and grander river than the St. Lawrence, and it furnishes with its tributaries more than 2,500 miles of navigable waters." The most marvelous thing to us in this great section of the Northwest?so cold and so barren and so far North as most people think?are the fertility of the soil and the climatic conditions. The climate does not grow cooler really as you go farther north. Mr. Thompson, who has made a special study of the vast region, says that "from Iowa north to the Peace River valley, and even on the shores of the (Jreat Slave lake, a range of nearly twenty degrees of latitude, climatic conditions are essentially the same. It is a region marked by great heat in the summer and intense cold in the winter." Roth altitude and latitude all'ect climate. Roth are very important. In the tropics you will see mountains covered with snow. The altitude of the far north is less than in States south of it. The basin in Colorado is higher than where the (Jreat Northern j railway crosses the main divide of the j Rockies, near the boundaries of ('ana- . da and the United States. But Mr. j Thompson shows the climate is not ' dependent alone in the Northwest upon latitude and altitude. He shows that the great ocean currents and ' winds of the Pacific have very great clfect upon the climate just as the gulf stream in the Atlantic affects our i own coast and the climate of Norway 1 and the British Islands. He says, for instance: "A large portion 01 tne racinc coast of North America has, instead of winter and summer, a rainy season and a dry season, after the fashion of tropical lands. Even as far north as Sitka, it is said that ice sufficiently strong to sustain the weight of a twelve year old hoy occurs but once or twice in a gen- ; oration. The ameliorating influence 1 I of this great warm river of the sea, j i while exerting its greatest aflfect upon the coast, extends also into the interi- i I or. The mountain barriers are not ! 1 only far less lofty in the north, but are j j less in width." He is highly interesting and in I structivc just here, but we may not i ' follow him further. Vegetation grows | with marvelous rapidity in this great j | section. He says that at "Fort Simp- ' son, at the junction of the Liard and Mackenzie rivers, Archbishop Clutt speaks of the trees passing in a single j week from bud to perfect leaf, and grasses, grains and vegetables of all ! kinds mature througout the Northwest in a much shorter time than in i the regions further south. As an in; stance it may be pointed out that Inj dian corn is harvested from three to five weeks earlier in Minnesota than it is in the Ohio valley." The wheat of Minnesota, North Da- i kota and Manitoba produce invariably j three grains in each fascicle or cluster, I whereas not more than two are found : in the States to the south of these, j I Still farther to the north on the Peace ! river throughout a large area five j n?.n rlnV?ltf frmnrl troll fnrmorl i;iUIIIO U1U ill V Ml ltn/l J iVUUVI HVII IVIIMVU . in each cluster. In Siberia?cold, frozen Siberia?the dreadful home of the C/.ar's banished and persecuted, civi- j lized man has carried with him and ! cultivated successfully apples, pears, | cherries and plums, and six or seven 1 degrees farther north than Winnipeg. | A glance at the resources of this j vast territory would require volumes. : i In addition to vast wheat production i and vegetables, there are cattle, im- ; mense forest resources, sheep raising, ! j gold washing, fisheries and furs, min- , ernl resources, etc. The climate is exceedingly healthful and brick masons lay brick with the cold twenty degrees below zero. It is a wonderful land and when peopled by the hundreds of millions of toilers in the years* to come it will be a land of prosperity ' and wealth.?Wilmington Messenger, j a stkangTkomance. A. IlecluHc Who Haw Not Seen a Woman In Thirty Years. The tragic story of John Armstrong i is told by an exchange from North j Carolina. For more than fifty years he has led the life of a recluse in the j dense pine forest3 not far from New| berne, N. C. His ruin was wrought by woman's perfidy and he has kept away | from her sight ever since. The only | son of a well-to-do planter near Wil, mington, N. C., Armstrong wooed and ! was accepted by Carrie Scott, the daughter of a neighbor. On the mornj ing set for their wedding, fifty-five ; years ago, as Armstrong and a party of friends were, riding toward the home of his betrothed, they were met by a negro servant who informed them that ! Miss Carrie had been married some hours before to a Northern gentleman i ; named Samuel Opdyke, and had al- i ready left for the North. For a moment Armstrong seemed ns if dazed by a heavy blow. Then, without a word to his companions, he put spurs to his horse and soon disappeared in the dis- j j tance. He was never seen again in i i that neighborhood, and the belief was ! soon accepted that he had committed i j suicide. Time passed, his father and i mother died and their property fell to distant relatives. Armstrong's disap- ; pearance was almost forgotten, when J a party of Newberne hunters by acci- I dent came across, in a gloomy and re- j mote part of the forest, the cabin which for thirty years had been Arm- ; strong's home. To the hunters Arm- ] | strong told his past history. He I ; said that on the fatal morning when he learned that his promised J i wife had proved false to her vows he j | resolved to at once and forever turn ; his back on humanity, and this resolu- ! tion he had thus far religiously kept. 1 He was greatly annoyed that his j hiding place had at last been found, j I and though he has never since seen fit to change it, he has always avoided as ' far as possiblo the society of his fel- j i lows. However, he is often sought out by the curious, anil * iNormern i gentleman, who visited him a few months ago, found the hermit still hale 1 and vigorous despite his 70 years. | His hair and long flowing beard are , white as snow, but he walks erect and I ; with an elastic step. He told his vis- | itor he had not seen or spoken to a woman in thirty years, and had never j seen a railroad car or a steam boat. ! The doings of the great outside world , are almost unknown to him, but he is a constant reader of religious and scientific works and an ardeut student of natural history. He has a splendid entomological collection, and can tell ; correctly the name and habit of every insect native of his neighborhood. Hut the curse of Caiu is 011 this venerable recluse, and the story of his crime show how time and chance sometimes work strange results. One day during i ! the war a Federal officer, to escape I capture by a scooting party of Confed- j crate cavalry, took refuge in the for- I , est, and in his wanderings reached the ; vicinity of the hermit's home, ami en- 1 countered Armstrong himself. In rej spouse to the hitter's questions the fugitive said he was an officer in the Federal army and that his name was i Samuel Opdyke. At the mention of this name the hermit started back and j cocked his gun. t "Are you the man who married I Carrie Scott?" "Yes; but why do you ask me tliat I question '{ \\ lio are you r j "I am John Armstrong, whom she | promised to marry and vowed that she | loved better than any one else in the ' world. Hut she deceived me; her heart was hollow; she was false to I me. You stole her from me, and now . j I have my revenge." He raised his | gun and pulled the trigger?it is the hermit himself'who tellrfthe story?and i a second later Opdyke lay dead at his j 1 feet. Thus the evil that women as well as men do lives after them. Dkinkino Imtlkk Watkk.?It is a ! common habit with some people of : really cleanly habits to take a drink of water the first thing on rising in the I morning, using for that purpose water i which has stood in the sleeping-room all night. The draught is all right, i ? t- - .1 r out me person who iiiium ?uri mut lias stood in a sleeping room for sever- j i al hours is simply inviting all sorts of ; disorders to visit him. Water is one ; of the ready absorbents of disease ! i germs, and it would be a hazardous thing to drink water that has stood in . an open vessel out in the open air, to j say nothing of that shut up in a sleep- | ing room with all sorts of unhealthy ! exhalations being given off from the I body. Nor is it well to drink water ' 1 that has stood for several hours in the j j lead pipes?always let the water run j I for a few moments lirst. TOOK OFF THEIR COATS. The two large pythons which were imported for the Zoological Garden have made themselves at home in thennew quarters says the Philadelphia Press. They are said to be the largest reptiles in this country and naturally attract considerable attention. They had j only been here two weeks when both snakes underwent a change. They became droopy and it was seen that | they had began to shed their skins. i The shedding process is about at an end now, but the manner in which the snakes accomplish the greater part of the job is wonderful. The largest py- , thon measures 1(> feet and the other 12. They are males and have mouths like cellar doors, that arc tilled with terrible fangs. On Monday last the big snake which had eaten nothing for three weeks because he was shedding his coat, got a move on himself climbed one of the small trees and coiled all around the limbs. Then he rubbed j his head and neck violently ugainst the branches in every direction and gradually loosened the old cuticle from around bis head mouth and neck. Iu the meantime the other snake was not idle. It, too, coiled around the tree and raising his head and took hold of its big brother's neck and by careful manipulation loosened the , skin from the head and neck for about two feet down. Then it took hold of the loosened skin and the keepers and spectators who were watching the pro- | cceding saw what was going to hap- j pen. j With its head und neck free the big i snake could help iu the shedding operation, and it twisted around the tree near the top and began to pull way from the smaller snake at top speed. Inch by inch the old skin was released and the bright colors of the new cuticle came iu view. It took nearly an hour to get about half of the body free from the old covering and then both j snakes rested. The old skin was pulled back just as one would turn a glove j inside out, and gave the reptile a peculiar appearance. When the snakes resumed their job they employed different tactics. The larger snake climbed higher and the j other made itself fast lower down on the tree. The smaller one took hold of the skin and pulled for all it was worth until all the covering, with the exception of about two feet of the big snake's tail was loose. Then a most wonderful thing happened. The big snake's head was at the top of the tree and he hadn't been paying much attention to the goings on at the other end of his body. When the smaller one stopped pulling the big one looked down and saw that something was wrong. His eyes glistened, and reaching down he grabbed a mouthful of his own covering and proceeded to finish the job. It was done with dispatch and ease. The big snake seemed proud of his new suit and wriggled all around the cage and admired himself for sometime. Then to the astonishment of the watch- j ers the smaller snake climbed the tree and went through the same perform- j ance, assisted by the larger one. After both reptiles were free from I the old skins they made a meal of i them and dranK aoout a gallon 01 water to wash down the repast. The keepers say that it is no unusual thing for the small snakes to get rid of their old skins in this way, but they never heard of snakes like the python or boa doing it. The Clever Spider.?A gentleman who was foud of studying the habits of insects, one day fouud a large spider near a pond of water. He took a long stick, and put the spider on one end of it. He then went to the side of the pond, and, stretching out as far us he could, fixed the other end in the bottom of the pond, and left the stick standing straight up out of the water with the spider upon it. He then sat down ou the bank to watch what the insect would do. It first went down the stick till it came to the water; but finding there was no hope of getting off there, it returned to the top. It then went up and down the different sides of the stick, feeling and looking carefully, till it found there was no way of escape at any part. Then it went once more to the top, and remained quiet for a while, as if thinking what to do. After a short pause the insect began to spin a thread long enough to reach from the stick to the edge of the pond. When this was done, it fastened one end of the thread to the top of the stick, and let the rest of it float in the breeze. It waited till the wind stretched the thread out toward the side of the pond. The insect then went crawling along the thread till it reached the end. After floating in the air a little while, it alighted safely on the ground, and scampered off to its home. ODDITIES OF ETIQUETTE. In Sweden, if you address the poorest person on the street you must lift your hat. The same courtesy is insisted upon if you pass a lady on the stairway. To enter a reading room or a bank with one's hat on is regarded as a bad breach of manners. To place vniir linnd nn the arm of a ladv is a grave and objectionable familiarity. ; Never touch the person, it is sacred, is j one of their proverbs. In Holland, a lady is expected to j retire precipitately if she should enter | a store or restaurant where men are j congregated. She waits until they i have transacted their business and ; departed. Ladies seldom rise in Spain to receive a male visitor, and they rarely accompany him to the door. For a Spaniard to give a lady?even his | wife?his arm when out walking is | looked upon as a decided violation of propriety. In Persia,, among the aristocracy, a visitor sends notice an hour or two before calling, and gives a day's notice . if the visit is one of great importance. He is met by servants before be reaches the house, and other considerations are shown him according to relative rank. The left and not the right is considered the position of honor. No Turk will enter a sitting-room with dirty shoes. The upper classes wear tight-fitting shoes, with goloshes over them. The latter, which receive ! all the dirt and dust, arc left outside j the door. The Turk never washes in dirty water. Water is poured over his hands, so that when polluted it ruijs away. In Syria, the people never take oil' their caps or turbans when entering I the house or visiting a friend, hut they always leave their shoes at the door. 1 There are no mats and scrapers outside, and the floors inside are covered with expensive rugs, kept very clean in Moslem houses, and used to kneel upon while saying prayers. VST Fifty years ago, Almeron Higby, of Watson, N. V., then nine years old, planted in his father's dooryard the stone of a cherry he had eaten. A tree grew from the stone, and from the time the tree began to hear fruit it was known as the hoy's tree. He sold the cherries the tree bore from year to year, and always put away the money that he received from them, even after * * i ' _ i Jie grew 10 man noon aiiu was married and had children of his own. Last summer, his heulth being poor, and the cherry tree beginning to show signs of decay, Higby cut the tree down. He i had the trunk sawed into boards, from which he made a eofliti for himself. A ) short time ago he became seriously ill. | He sent for an undertaker and had the coflin trimmed. He died and was huried a few days ago, and all his funeral expenses were paid from the money that he had received and saved from the sale of the cherries home by the tree from which his coflin was made. - SENSE ABOUT COTTON. The New Orleans l'icayune presents some facts and suggestions about the cotton crop which are entitled to the thoughtful consideration of Southern farmers. The Picayune says that cotton production has not beeu profitable in the South for the past few years, and poiuts out the reasons. "The chief cause has been the overproduction of the crops of 1890-91 and 1891-92, the surplus of which has not yet been disposed of. Other causes have heen the general decline in the price of all farm products and the diminished foreign demand for American cotton. Our exports of cotton have decreased largely on account of increased crops in other lands. Russia now raises almost enough cotton in Asia to supply her own demand. This fact is almost significant when it is remembered that Russia begun her Asiatic cotton experiment only in 1884. The cotton production of Russia's fields in Asia will probably increase very fast. China produces a great deal of cotton and Japan buys Chinese cotton for her large mills. The increase of the cotton crop in Egypt has heen remarkable since the introduction of modern machinery and the improvement of the methods of cultivation. In India the production of cotton has also been greatly increased. There is but one conclusion to bo drawn from these facts. It is that the world does not depend on the South for its cotton as it did a few years ago, and that such great cotton crops as we have been producing will not pay. In less cotton and a diversion of crops the Southern farmers can find the way to prosperity. IN THE CUMHERLANl) MOUNTAINS. ?The author of "The Blue Grass Region of Kentucky," writing of the dwellers among the Cumberland mountains, says that those strange people have peculiar and interesting customs regarding their dead. When a husband dies his funeral is not preached until after the death of his wife, nor that of a wife until the husband is also dead. Then a preacher is sent for, friends and neighbors are called in, and the respect is paid to both together. More peculiar is the custom of having the services for one person repeated, so that the dead get their "funerals" preached several times, months aud years after their burial. I heard the pitiful story of two sister's who had their mother's funeral preached once every summer as long as they lived. In strange contrast with this regard for ceremonial observances is their neglect of the graves of their beloved, which they do not at all seem to visit when once closed, or to decorate with those symbols of affection which are the common indications of bereavment. taT The problem has puzzled many why two pieces of wood sawed from the same section of tree should possess very varied characteristics when used in different positions. For example, a gate post will be found to decay much faster if the butt end of the tree is uppermost than would he the case if the top were placed in tins position, ine reason of this is that the moisture of the atmosphere will permeate the pores of the wood much more rapidly the way the trees grew than it would if placed in the opposite directiou. Microscopical examination proves that the pores invite the ascent of moisture, while they repel its decent. Take the familiar case of a wooden bucket. Many may have noticed that some of the staves appear to be entirely saturated, while others are apparently quite dry. This arises from the same cause; the dry staves are in the same position in which the tree grew, while the saturated ones are reversed. All Born in 180!).?A wave of great men (or babies that were destined to become great) seems to have swept over the world in 1S09. Why they were precipitated upon the world during that particular year will, perhaps, never be known, but it is a fact that the following named historical personages count it as their birth year: Lincoln, Gladstone, Darwin, Edgar Alleu l'oe, Cyrus McCormick, Benjamin Pierce, Alfred Tennyson, Mark Lemon, Jules Favre, Raphael Semms, Albert Pike and Oliver Wendell Holmes. WaP A man who can keep a hotel can generally do a great many things well. One of the most gifted of the fraternity is at Hazleton, Kansas. Besides being a good hotel keeper, he is a contractor, carpenter, school teacher, paper hanger, painter, decorator, plasterer, farmer, lawyer, doctor, teacher of vocal and instrumental music, sign writer and engineer. A drummer who had to stop in Hazleton over Sunday says he went to church and found this same hotel keeper directing the music, after which he ascended the pulpit aud preached a good sermon. Space Has a Value.?Some people act as if they think it does not cost anything to put a line of type iu a newspaper. It does, though, and if for the benelit of an individual, he should be willing to pay for it. If 110 one else pays for it, the owuer of the newspaper does. Space in a newspaper is the owner's stock in trade. He can no more afford to give it away than a grocer his groceries, or a haberdasher his haberdashery, or a baker his bakeries, or an oysterman his oysters. He has it for rent, and he can no more afford to furnish it free than a landlord can furnish rent free. ?dJT The age of a squirrel rarely exceeds eight years ; that of a rabbit seven ; sheep live ten years; dogs have been known to exceed twenty; cats and foxes rarely go beyond tifteen ; while pigs, deer, the bear and the cow have often lived beyond twenty years. The horse has been known to exceed thirty; the lion seventy; the camel, the eagle, the raven and the tortoise have been known to pass live score; mm nr two svvnns linvc been known to pass into the third century. ? fittT The question as to how hooks can be sold so cheaply these days is answered by the statement that there are in New York printing houses where they have presses that will print ">,000 novels an hour, printing 2S0 pages at each revolution of the cylinder. The strip of paper is run through, dried, folded, trimmed, and ready for the hinder as it comes from the press. They are bound at the rate of ">o a minute, and the total cost of a novel of 280 pages does not exceed three cents. - - ? ear t lie material of which hornets build their nest is wood pulp, not very different from that used by the papermakers. As the hornets are not pro...I*!* oot.itnl niwl fnr Y1UCU 1111 * tiuvi (iiuviuiiv i j iu? grinding and pulping their wood, they collect the pulp, partly made, from the weather-beaten surfaces of old rails, shingles, etc., where the woody fiber has been broken up by exposure to rain, sun and air.