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l. m. grist & sons, Publishers. } % j'amitii Jtarajaper: 4or the promotion of the political, foetal, Agricultural, and fflommeiicial Interests nf the ?outh. j term|^oo^ye^rjn adunce.
established 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1898. NO. 94.
" "" ' " ' * -- ? ? i * * - _ 1. J 4. AL . IA
LOST 11
By ANNA KATH
Copyright, 1897, by Anna K. Rohlt's.
o??nooTo Porvmna Installments. i
OIH OlO Vi A
In order that new readers of The Enquirer
may begin with the following installment
oi this story, and understand it
just the same as though they had read it
all from the beginning, we here give a
synopsis of that portion of it which has
already been published:
Amelia Butterworth, who has done
clever detective work, is called upon by
Mr. Gryce, a professional detective, to
take up an interesting case. He tells her
that in a certain village several persons
have suddenly disappeared. In this place
lives a family of the name of Knollys, the ,
children of a former friend of Miss
Butterworth. Mr. Gryce desires Miss
Butterworth to enter this family for detective
work. Miss Butterworth goes to
visit the Knollys' home, finding there
Misses Lucetta and Loreen Knollys and ,
their brother William. She dines with
the family and is taken to her room. She i
remains awake during the night, and,
hearing strange noises, goes into the ball
and calls Lucetta, who gives unsatisfactory
reasons for the disturbance. Mr. :
Trohm, a neighbor visits the Knollys. :
Lucetta is terrified at seeing him and
faints. Miss Butterworth receives a letter
from Mr. Gryce telling her that if she
is in danger to blow upon a whistle he
sends her. An old crone called Mother :
Jane appears. Miss Butterworth gives
her a quarter, whereupon Mother Jane
repeats a curious combination of numbers. j
CHAPTER XIL
the phantom carriage.
Well, I am getting on famously,
thought L Ghosts added to the other <
complications. ^ hat could the fellow
have meant? If I had pressed him, he '
would have told me, but it did not 6eem
quite a lady's business to pick up information
this wav. esueciallv when it
seemed likely to involve Lucetta. Yet
did I think I would ever come to the
end of this without involving Lucetta?
My good sense said "No." Why, then,
had my instinct triumphed for the
nonce? Let those who understand the
workings of the human heart answer. I
am simply stating facts.
Ghosts! Somehow the word startled
me, as if in some way it gave a rather
unwelcome confirmation to my doubts.
Apparitions seen in the Knollys man- ,
sion or in any of the houses bordering
on this lane! That would be serious,
how serious seemed to be but half com- '
prehended by this man. But I comprehended
it and wondered if it was gossip
like this which had caused Mr. Gryce ,
to induce me to visit this house as a
guest
I was crossing the street to the hotel j
as 1 indulged in these conjectures, and (
intent as my mind was upon them I ,
could not but note the curiosity and in- (
terest which my presence excited in the
simple country'folk that are invariably ;
to be found lounging about a conntry
tavern Indeed, the whole neighborhood j
seemed ageg, and though I would have .
thought it derogatory to my dignity to ,
notice the fact I could not but see how (
many faces were peering at me from ]
store doors and the half closed blinds of ,
ad joining cottages. No young girl in
the pride of her beauty could have ,
awakened more interest, and I attribut- j
ed it, as was no doubt right, not to my ,
appearance, which would not perhaps
hu iini tn strike thpso Kimnle villagers as
remarkable, or to my dress, which is
rather rich than fashionable, bnt to the ,
fact that I was a stranger in town and, (
what was more extraordinary, a guest of ,
the Knollys. ,
My intention in approaching the bo- ,
tel was not to spend a couple of dreary ,
hours in the parlor with Mrs. Carter, as ]
Mr. Simsbury had suggested, but to ob- <
tain if possible a conveyance to carry j
me immediately back to the Knollys ]
mansion. But this, which would have
been a simple matter in most towns,
seemed well nigh an impossibility in (
X. The landlord was away, and Mra
Carter, who was very frank with me,
told me that she not only did not dare, ,
but would find it perfectly useless, to ,
ask one of the men to drive me through ,
that lane. "It's an unwholesome spot," ,
said she, "and only Mr. Carter and the
police have the courage to brave it."
I suggested that I was willing to pay J
well, but it seemed to make very little
difference with her. "Money won't hire ,
them," said she, and I had the satisfaction
of knowing that Lucetta had triumphed
in her plan and that I must sit ,
out the morning after all in the pre- (
cincts of the hotel parlor with Mra
Carter.
It was my first 6ignal defeat, but I
was determined to make the best of it, (
and if possible glean such knowledge ;
from the talk of this woman as would
L-'
Iltip IIIC IU UVA UUl VltlUiJ llVili 1U
She was only too ready to talk, and the
first topic was littlo Rob. 1
I saw the moment I mentioned his
name that 1 was introducing a subject
that had already been well talked over
by every eager gossip in the village.
Her attitude of importance, the air of
mystery she assumed, were preparations |
I had long been accustomed to in women
of this kind, and I was not at all t
surprised when she announced in a way
that admitted of no dispute:
"Oh, there's no wonder the child is
6ick. We would be sick under the circumstances.
He has seen the phantom
carriage." ,
The phantom carriage! So that was i
what the locksmith meant. A phantom
carriage! I had heard of every kind of
phantom b\it that. Somehow the idea
was a thrilling one or would have been
to a nature less practical than mine.
MT /Irm'f L'nntr tvlnit von ttionn 99 raiH
I. "Some superstition of the place? I
never heard of a ghostly appearance of
that nature before."
"No, I expect not. It belongs to us.
I never heard of it beyond these mountains.
Indeed, I have never known it to
have been seen but upon one road. I i
rS LANE.
ARINE GREEN.
Deed not mention it, madam. Ton can
guess perhaps what I mean. "
Yes, I could guess, and the guessing
made me set my lips a^ little grimly.
"Tell me more about this thing," I
half laughed, half spoke. "It ought to
be of some interest to me."
She nodded, drew her chair a trifle
nearer, and impetuously began:
"You see this is a very old town. It
has its ancient country houses like the
one you are now living in, and it has
its early traditions. One is that a carriage
perfectly noiseless, drawn by
horses through which you can see the
moonlight, haunts the high road at intervals
and flies through the gloomy forest
road we have christened of late years
Lost Man's lana It is a superstition
possibly, but you cannot find many families
in town but believe in it as a fact,
for there is not an old man or woman
in the place but has either seen it in
the past or has had some relative who
has seen it. It passes only at night and
is thought to presage 6ome disaster to
the one who sees it My husband's uncle
died the next morning after it flew
Dy mm on me nignway. luriuiinwi;
fears elapse sometimes between its going
and coming again. It is ten years,'
I think they say, since it was seen last
Poor littlfe Rob! It has frightened him
almost out of his wits."
"I should think so," I cried with besoming
credulity. "But how came he
to see it? I thought you said it only
passed at night."
"At midnight," she repeated. "But
Rob, you see, is a nervous lad, and night
before last he was so restless he could
not sleep, so he begged to be put in the
window to cool off. This his. mother
did, and he sat there for a good half
hour alone, looking out at the moonlight
As his mother is an economical
woman there was no candle lit in the
room, so he got his pleasure out of the
shadows which the great trees made on
the highroad till suddenly?you ought
to hear the little fellow tell it?he felt
the hair rise on his forehead and all his
body grow stiff with a terror that made
bis tongue like lead in his mouth. A
something ? a thing he would have
called a horse and carriage in the daytime.
but which in this light and under
the influence of the mortal terror he
was in took on a di torted shape which
made it unlike any team he was accustomed
to?was going by, not as if being
driven over the earth and stones of the
road, though there was a driver in front,
a driver with an odd three cornered
hat on his head and a cloak about his
shoulders, such as he remembered as
having seen hanging in his grandmother's
closet, but as if it floated along
without sound or stir?in fact, a specter
team which scorned to find its proper
destination when it turned in Lost Man's
?'ou Iriof. omnror fhfi Kbadnwfl nf
that ill reputed road."
"Pshaw," was my spirited comment
as she paused to take her breath and see
bow I was affected by this grewsome
tale. "A dream of the poor little ladl
He had heard stories of this apparition
and his imagination supplied the rest."
"No; excuse me, madam, but this is
the very point of the tale. He had been
carefully kept from hearing any such
Btories, having enough to do to bear his
own troubles without that. You could
Bee this was true by the way he told
about it. He hurdly believed what he
had seen himself. It was not till some
foolish neighbor blurted out, "Why,
that was the phantom carriage," that
he had any idea he was not relating anything
but a dream.
My second pshaw was no less marked
than the first
"He did know about it, notwithstanding,"
I insisted. "Only he had forgotten
the fact. Sleep supplies us with
these lost memories. We remember then
what may never recur to us in the daytime.
"
"Very true, and you might be right,
Miss Butterworth, if he had been the
only one to see this apparition. But
Widow Jenkins saw it, too, and she is
a woman to be believed."
This was becoming serious.
* " ii. ./i. Oft T
"saw 11 Deiore or saw it uxrerr x
asked. "Does she live on the highway
dt somewhere in Lost M;ui's lane?"
"She lives on the highway about a
half mile from the station. She was up
with her sick husband and saw it just
as it was going down the hill. She said
it mado no more noise than a cloud slipping
by. She expects to lose old Rause.
No one couid see such a thing as that,
she says, and not huve some misfortune
follow.''
I laid all this up in my mind. My
hour of waiting was not likely to prove
wholly unprovable.
" You see," the good woman went 011,
with a relish for the marvelous that
stood me in good stead, "there is an old
tradition of that road connected with
a carriage. Years ago, before any of us
were born and the house where you are
was a gathering place for all the gay
young bloods of the county, a young
Tmin ratno nn frrmi Kdw Ynrlr tn visit
Mr. Kuollys. I do iiot mean the father
or even the grandfather of the folks yon
are visiting, ma'am. Ho was greatgrandfather
to Lueetta, and a very tine
gentleman if you can trust the pictures
that uro left of him. But my story has
not to do with him. He had a daughter
at that time, a widow of great and
sparkling attractions, and though she
was older than tho young man I have
mentioned every one thought it would
be a match, she was so handsome and
such an heiress.
"But he failed to pay his court to
her, aud though he was handsome himself
and made a fool of more than one
girl in the town every one thought he
would go as ho had come, a free hearted
bachelor, when suddenly one night a
horse and carriago were found lacking
from the 6tables, and he was found lacking,
too, and, what was worse, the young
widow's daughter, a chit who was barely
15 and without a hundredth part of
the beauty of her mother. Love and an
elopement only could account for this,
for in those days young ladies did not
ride with gentlemen in the evening for
pleasure, and when it came to the old
gentleman's ears, and, what was worse,
came to the mother's, there was a commotion
in that house the echoes of
which some say have never died out.
Though the pipers were playing and the
fiHHlna \pfiro fsnnpakini? in the crreat
room where they used to dance the night I
away, Mra Knollys, with her white brocade
tucked up about her waist, stood
with her hand on the great front door,
waiting for the horse upon which she
was determined to follow him. The father,
who was a man of 80 years, stood
by her side. He was too old to ride himself,
but he never sought to hold her
back, though the jewels were tumbling
from her hair and tho moon had vanished
from the highway.
" 'I will bring her back or die,' the
passionate beauty exclaimed, and not a
lip there said her nay, for they saw
what no man or woman had been able
to see up to that moment, that her very
life and soul were wrapped up in the
man who had stolen away her daughter
and that it would be death in life for
her to live with the knowledge that she
had given him a wife of her blood who
was not herself.
"Shrill went the pipes, 6queak and
hum went the fiddles, but the sound
that-was sweetest to her was the pound
of the horse's hoofs on the road in front
That was music to her indeed, and as
soon as she heard it she bestowed one
wild kiss eta her father and bounded
from the house. An instant and she was
"HE FELT THE HAIR RI&
gone. One flash of her white robe at the
gate, then all was dark on the highway,
and only the old father stood in that
wide open door, waiting, as ho vowed
he would wait, till his daughter returned.
"the had not gono alone. A faithful
groom was behind her, and from him
was learned tho conclusion of that
quest. For an hour and a half they rode;
then they cumo upon a chapel in the
mountains in which were burning unwonted
lights. At the sight the lady
drew rein and almost fell from her
horse into tho urms of her lackey. 'A
mairiage,' tho murmured, 'a marriage,
' uud pointed to a carriage standing
in the shadow of a wide spreading
tree. It was their family carriage. How
well she knew it. Rousing herself, she
mado for tho chapel door. 'I will stop
it,' she cried. 'I am her mother, and I
have tho right' But the lackey drew
her back by her rich white dress.
'Look!' he cried, pointing in at one of
tho windows, and she looked. The man
she loved stood before the altar with
her daughter. Ho was looking in that
daughter's face, and his look showed a
passionate devotion. It went like a dagger
to her heart. Crushing her hands
against her face, she wailed out some
fearful protest; then she dashed toward
the door with 'StopI Stop!' on her
lips. But the faithful lackey at her side
drew ber bacK once more. 'juxstenr was
now bis word, and she listened. The
minister whose form she had failed to
see in her first hurried look was uttering
his benediction. She had come too
late. The young couple were married.
"Her servant said, for so the tradition
survives, that when she saw this
6he grew calm as walking death in an
instant. Making her way into the chapel,
she stood ready at the door to greet
them as they issued forth, and when
they saw her there, saw the rich bedraggled
robe and the gleam of jewels on a
neck she had not even stopped to envelop
in more than the veil from her hair,
he seemed to see what he had done and
stop; I'd the bride, who in her confusion
would have fled back to the altar where
?*- - ' ^ o Tirifn
EBB J3UU J USL ueeu uiuuo c* nuu.
'Kneel!' be cried. 'Kneel, Amaryntb!
Only thus can we ask pardon of oar
mother.' Bat at that word, that wor?
which seemed to posh her a million
miles away from theso two beings, who
bat two hoars beforo had been the dearest
beings on earth to her, the nnhappy
woman gave a cry and fled from their
presence. 'Go! Go!' were her parting
worda 'As you have chosen, continue.
But let no tongue call me mother!
Henceforth I am mother to no one.'
"They foniid her lying on the grass
outside. As she could no longer sustain I
herself on a horse they put her into the I
carriage, gave the reins to her devoted 1
lackey and themselves rode off on horse- 1
back. One man, the fellow who had i
driven them to that place, said that the I
clock struck 12 from the chapel tower i
as the carriage turned away and began 1
its rapid journey home. That may be so f
and it may be not We only know that 1
its apparition enters Lost Man's lane at i
nearly 1, always at nearly 1, the hour
at which the reaf carriage came back
and stopped before Mr. Knollys' gate.
And now for the worst, Miss Butterworth.
When the old gentleman went
down to the carriage from the door,
where be had stood without movement
ever since she started after the lovers,
it was to find the lackey in front and
his daughter sitting all alone in the carriage.
But the soilon the white brocaded
folds of her wh|te dress was no longer
that of mud only, f She had stabbed herself
to the heart Mpth a bodkin she wore
in her hair, and It was a corpse which
the faithful negfp had been driving
down the highways that night "
I am not a serjtimental woman, but
this story as thus told gave me a thrill I
do not know as I really regret experiencing.
"What was this unhappy mother's
name?" I asked.
"Lucetta," wa| the unexpected and
none too reassuring answer.
CHApjfEB XIIL
opssip.
This name oncq mentioned called for
more gossip, but of a somewhat differ- '
pnt nature. <
"The Lucetta of today is not like her
ancient namesake*" observed Mrs. Carter.
"She may have the heart to love,
but she would never show that love by
any act of daring."
"I don't know about that," I replied,
astonished that I felt.willing to enter
!E ON HIS FOREHEAD."
into a discussion with this woman on
the very subject I had just shrunk from
talking over with the locksmith. "Girls
as frail and nervous as she sometimes
astonish one at a pinch. I do not think
Lucetta lacks daring."
HV/v? JamU IrtiAtn hnr Wl^tr T HOVA
iUU uuu L lUiun
seen her jump at the sight of a spider, 1
and heaven knows that can be nothing
new to her among the decaying walls
in which she lives. A puny chit, Miss
Butterworth ; pretty enough, but weak.
The very kind to draw lovers, but not
to hold them. Yet every one pities her,
her smile is so heartbroken."
"With ghosts to trouble her and a
lover to bemoan she has surely some excuse
for that," said L
"Yes, I don't deny it But why has
she a lover to bemoan? He seemed a
proper man beyond the ordinary. Why
let him go as she did? Even her sister
admits that she loved him."
"Tdo not know the circumstances,"
said I.
"Well, there isn't much story to it
He is a young man from over the mountains,
well educated and with something
of a fortune of his own. He came
here to visit the Spears, I believe, and
seeing Lucctta oue day leaning on the
gate in front of her house he fell in love
with her and began to pay her his attentions.
That was before the lane got
its present bad name, but not before one
or two men had vanished from among
us without anything being known of
their fate. Wr illiam?that is their broth er,
you know?has always bee? anxious
to have his sisters marry, so he did not
stand in the way, and no more did Miss ?
Knollys, but after two or three weeks
of doubtful courtship the young man
went away, and that was the end of it.
And a great pity, too, say I, for once
clear of that bouse Lucctta would grow
into another person. Sunshine and love,
two very good things, Miss Butterworth,
especially for those that are
weakly nud timid."
I thought the qualification excellent
"Yes," said I, "I should like to see
the result of them upon Lucetta. " Then,
with an attempt to still further sound
this woman's mind and with that the
united mind of the whole village, I remarked:
"The j'oung do not usually
throw aside such prospects without excellent
reasons. Have you never thought
that Lucetta was governed by principle
in discarding this very excellent young
man?"
"Principle? What principle could she
hnvo had in letting a desirable husband
go?" i
"She may have thought the match
on undesirable one for him." (
"For him.' Well. 1 never tnougnt oi
hat. True, she may. They are poor,
sut poverty don't count in suoh old
families as theirs. I hardly think she
would be influenced by any such consideration.
Now, if this had happened
[his year, after the lane got its name
md all this stir had been made about
folks disappearing there, I might have
jiven some weight to your suggestion?
women are so queer, especially the women
of old families like theirs?but this
happened long ago and when folks all
bought a heap of the Knollys, leastwise
if the girls, for William does not go for
much, you know?too stupid and too
arutal."
William! Would the utteranoe of
hat name heighten my suggestion? I
surveyed her closely, but could detect
10 chauge in her somewhat puzzled
xrantenance.
"My allusions were not in reference
to the disappearances," said L "I was
thinking of something else. Lucetta is
lot well."
"Ah, 1 know I They say she has some
and of heart complaint, but that was
lot true then. Why, her cheeks were
like-roses in those days and her figure
is plump and pretty as any you could
see now among our village beauties.
No, Miss Butterworth, it was herweakless
lost him. She probably palled upon
lis taste. It was notioed that he held
lis head very high in going out of
Own."
"Has he married since?" I asked.
"Not to my knowledge, ma'am."
"Then he loved her," I declared.
She looked at me quite curiously.
Doubtless that word sounds a little queer
m my lips, but that shall not deter me
from using it when the circumstances
seem to require. Besides, there was once
i time? But there, I promised to fall
into no digressions.
"You should have been married yourself,
Miss Butterworth," said she.
1 was amazed, first at her daring and
secondly that I was so little angry at
t But then the woman meant no offense,
probably intended a compliment
rather.
"I am very well contented as I am,"
I returned. "I am neither sickly nor
dmid."
She smiled, looked as if she thought
t only common politeness to agree with
ne and tried to say so, but finding the
rituation too mnch for her coughed and
liscreetly held her peace. I came to her
'escue with a now question.
"Have the Knollysever been successful
in love? The mother of these girls
low?she who was Althea Burroughs?
was her life with her husband happy? I
lave always been curious to know. She
ind I were schoolmates "
"You were? You knew Althea Knolys
when she was a girl? Wasn't she
harming, ma'am? Did you ever see a
.ivelier girl or one with more knack at
winning affection? Why, she couldn't
lit down with you a half hour before
rou felt like giving up everything you
lad to her. It made no difference whether
you were man or woman, it was all
;he same. She had but to turn those
nischievous, pleading eyes upon you
ind you became a fool at once. Yet her
?nd was sad, ma'am; too sad, when
7on remember that she died at the very
leight of her beauty alone and in a forsign
land. But I have not answered
rour question. Were she and the judge
lappy together? I have never heard to
;he contrary, ma'am. I'm sure he
nourned her faithfully enough. Some
;hink that her loss killed him. He did
lot survive her more than three years."
"The children do not favor her
nuch," Baid I, "but I see an expression
low and then in Lucetta which recalls
lar mother faintlv."
"They are pure Knollys'blood," said
ihe. "Even William has traitB which,
vith a few more brains back of them,
vould remind you of his grandfather,
vho was the plainest of his race.
1 was glad that the talk had reverted
:o William.
"He seems to laok heart," said I, "as
veil as brains. I marvel that his sisters
jut up with him as well as they da "
"They cannot help it He is not a felow
to be fooled with. Besides, ho holds
;hird share in the house. If they could
ell itl But, deary me, who would buy
in old tumble down place like that on
i road you cannot get folks who have
iny consideration for their lives to enter
'or love or money? But excuse me,
na'am; I forgot that you are living just
tow on that very road. I'm sure I beg a
housand pardons."
"1 am living there as a guest" I reurned.
"I have nothing to do with its
eputation?except to brave it"
"A courageous thing to do, ma'am,
ind one that may do the road some
;ood. If you can spend a month with
;he Knollys and come out of their house
it last hale and hearty as you enter it,
t will be the best proof possible that
here is less to be feared there than
lome people think. I shall be glad if
rou can do it, ma'am, for I like the
jirls and would be glad to have the repltation
of the place restored."
"Pshaw!" was my final comment
'The credulity of the town has had as
nuch to do with their loss of it as they
hemselves That educated people such
is 1 see here should believe in ghosts!"
1 say final, for at this moment the
good lady, springing np, put an end to
)ur conversation She had just seen a
mggy pass the window.
" It's Mr. Trohm," said she. "Ma'am,
f you wish to return home before Mr.
Jimsbury comes back you may be able
o do so with this gentleman. He's a
nost obliging man and lives less than a
[uarter of a mile from the Misses Knolya"
1 did not say I had^ already met the
gentleman. Why, I do"not know. I only
Irew myself up and waited with some
imall inner perturbation for the result
)f the inquiry I saw she had gone to
nake.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Told Id Detail.
Y.?Is your wife honest?
C.?What do you mean?
"I mean do you ever find her short
n her accounts?"
"Well, I should say not! You ought
? hear her!"?London Fun.
piscdlutuous grading.
AT HOME TO HER.
A little incident will sometimes show
the character of a man more clearly
than a great act. Mr. Laurence Hutton
in a magazine article, tells a story
of Edwin Booth that reveals the kindly
heart of the man whom the world
Knew as a iamous actor.
Mr. Hutton called upon Mr. Booth
one afternoon at the Albemarle hotel,
in New York, and found him in an
easy chair, with a pipe in his month.
The long chat which ensued was not
, undisturbed. Mr. Booth was in great
request, and before long a waiter entered
and put a card into bis hand.
"Tell the lady that Mr. Booth is engaged,"
was the quiet answer, and an
influential leade'r in New York society
went away disappointed.
A few minutes later a second caller?
a man honorably known throughout
the country?turned away without
| seeing Mr. Booth. Yet another card
was sent down with the statement that
"Mr. Booth was engaged," and a gentleman
and bis wife, whom few people
would have refused to receive, became
convinced that the actor was an exl
caption to the rule; but at last came a
name that met with a different fate.
1 "Show the lady up," said the now
interested actor, and Mr. Hutton put
od bis overcoat to leave the room. He
was not allowed to depart. The lady
was a friend of his, and would be glad
to see him, he was assured.
Thereupon he waited, curious to disi
cover the identity of the person who
i could obtain an audience with the man
i who had been too tired to see the
daughter of one of the most distinguished
men of science in the country,
or a judge of the supreme court of the
United States, or a bishop and his wife.
The door opened, and in walked
black Betty, the old Negro servant
who bad nursed Mr. Booth's daughter
when she was a baby, bad taken the
most tender care of bis wife when she
was slowly dying, and had been a lifelong
friend to them all. She had left
Mr. Booth's service after his daughter's
marriage, and had been recently married
herself,
i She kissed "Massa Edwin's" hand,
shook bands cordially with Mr. Hutton,
and let herself be placed in the
most comfortable rocking-chair. Then
she began to talk familiarly about her
own affairs and Mr. Booth's. She
could not afford to go to the theatre
"no mo'," she said, but she wanted her
1 husband to see "Massa Edwin play."
Could she have a pass for two that
night ?
He wrote the pass at once, and
put it into her hand. She read it and
returned it with a shake of her head.
"They was only niggers," she said.
"The do'keeper wouldn't let no niggers
into the orchestra seats; a pass to the
gallery was good enough for them."
A aomnd nnner she received silently,
I?I
but with another and still more decided
shake of her head. Glancing over her
shoulder, Mr. Hutton read, "Pass my
friend, Betty Blank, and party to my
box this evening. Edwin Booth." And
Betty occupied the box.
, g t I
FILIPINOS LIKE CHILDREN.
General Wesley Merrltt Says They Cannot
Be Considered as Cltlsens.
General Wesley Merritt, who is still
in London, says a dispatch, has read
with a great deal of interest a long
letter of complaint against American
officials in the Philippine Islands, addressed
by the so-called Filipino junta
to President McKinley and the people.
In discussing the Filipinos, the
American. general refers to them as
"children" and says that it' would be
impossible to establish American government
in the islands. He adds that
they must have some form of colonial
governments. Regarding the complaints
of the Filipinos, the general
says :
"It was impossible to recognize the
insurgents and I made it a point not
to do so, as I knew it, would lead to
complications. Admiral Dewey, after
my arrival, pursued the same course.
What was done before is not for me to
flnmmont. nn. I nurooselv did not
- r ?
recognize Aguinaldo or bis troops, nor
did I use Lbem in any way. Aguinaldy
did not ask to see me until ten days
after my arrival. After tbat, I was
too much occupied to see bim.
"In talking with leading Filipinos I
told tbem the United States bad no
promises to make ; but that tbey might
be assured tbat the government and
people of the United States would
treat tbem fairly. This was because
the United States is in the habit of
dealing fairly with all struggling peoples,
and not because I bad been authorized
to say anything of the kind.
"We purposely did not give the insurgents
notice of our attack on Manila,
because we did not need their cooperation
and did not propose to have
it. We were moved by fear that they
might loot and plunder and possibly
murder. Aguinaldo's subordinate leaders,
in conversing with American officers,
frequeutly said they intended to
cut the throats of all the Spaniards.in
Manila.
"Aguinaldo himself wrote a com
plaining letter, saying tne insurgents
had been denied 'their share of the
booty,' whatever he may have meant
by that. I took no notice of this letter,
nor do I think the subject now raised
is a matter for discussion between
Aguinaldo and any representative of
the American government."
A Remarkable Young Woman.?
Mrs. Mary Horn, wife of Thomas Horn,
living near Federal Post Office, Ky.,
has the most remarkable matrimonial
record of any woman in that part of
the state. She is only 22 years old,
yet her present husband is her fifth.
Her maiden name was Jones and at
the age of 18 she had ber initial matrimonial
venture. Her first husband
did not live long. Shortly after his
a earn sne was again iea to ine aitar.
Her second marriage proved an unhappy
one, and she soon obtained a
divorce. Within a year she succumbed
to the importunities of a former
suitor, who became her third husband.
He did not long survive the union.
A little more than a year ago she was
married the fourth time to a neighbor
farmer.; but soon parted by mutual
consent. Her fifth marriage was solemnized
last May.
GENIUS OR HUMBUG.
Inventor Keely, of Motor Fame, Died Iait
Friday.
John W. Keely, the inventor of the
Keely motor, died last Friday at his
home in Philadelphia with pneumonia.
He was taken ill on the previous Saturday,
and continued to grow steadily
worse until his death. Mr. Keely was
61 years of age and leaves a widow;
He was a native of that city. His
education was meagre, and at an early
age he became a carpenter, following
that trade until 1872. It was in that
year that he announced his discovery
of a new force by which motive power
would be revolutionized. Following
this, be constructed what has become
known as the Keely motor. On
November 10, 1874, he gave its first
public exhibition before a number of
capitalists and scientists, who advanced
$100,000 to enable him to perfect
his discovery and apply the principle.
Since then large sums of money have
been expended on experiments, without
ay practical public results.
Between 1874 and 1891, Keeley constructed
and discarded 129 different
models. In his first models he employed
water as a generator, but later
the experiments were made with what
he called a "liberator," a machine
equipped with a large number of tuning
forks, which, he claimed, disintegrated
the air and released a powerful
etheric force.
In 1888 he was for a time confined
in jail for contempt of court in refussing
to disclose the secret by hich
be produced many remarkable effects
in the presence of experts, but until
bis ddath the secret was known only
to himself.
KEPT WITHIN BOUNDS.
In an old biography of Chief Justice
Marshall there is an anecdote which
gives a significant hint of the discipline
to which young people were
subject in that earlier day. ^
Several of the great jurist's nieces
were in the habit of visiting him, and
as they were young and attractive, the
house became a rendezvous for the
landing young men of the city during
the afternoons. Judge Marshall's
black majordomo, old Uncle Joseph,
held a tight rein upon these visitors.
Every day at 4 o'clock he would appear
at the door of the drawing room
in spotless livery, and with a profound
bow would announce:
"Ladies, his honor, the chief justice,
has retired to his room to prepare for
dinner.
"Gentlemen, dinner will be served
at 4.30 o'clock. It is now 4. His honor
will be pleased if you will remain,
and covers have been laid for you at
the table. If you cannot remain, will
you permit the young ladies to retire
to prepare for the meal ?"
The gentlemen usually took their
leave, and the ladies retired in an ill
humor; but any remonstrance with
Joseph was only answered by, "It is
the rule of the bouse. Young folks
must be kept within bounds."
In Virginia bouses of the better class,
notwithstanding their almost boundless
hospitality, the calls of young men in
that day were strictly held within
limit. No one was received as a visitor
to an unmarried girl unless his antecedents
and character were wellknown
to her parents.
If his visit was prolonged until after
10 o'clock, the invitation to lamny
prayers was given. If he seemed
likely to become an habitue of the
house, and so to engage the thoughts,'
and perhaps in time the affection of
the young girl who was its chief treasure,
her father quietly asked the purport
of his visits; and if he had none,
other than bis own amusement, courteously
requested him to discontinue his
calls.
Imitation Eggs.?The latest product
of American genius in the grocery
line is artificial eggs, says The Grocery
World. The new idea is not made in
imitation of the egg itself, but is a
powder made from skim milk. For
cooking uses it is said to be identical
with eggs.
The new powder is claimed by the
backers to do just as well in cooking
as fresh eggs and much better than the
stale. The new powder does not deterioate,
and its effect in cooking is the
same as that of a fresh egg, with this
difference?that only two-thirds of the
usual amount of shortening is required.
It is estimated that a pound of the
powder is equivalent to six and a half
dozen eggs. A pound is a little more
than a pint of milk. The inventor asserts
that artificial eggs will be as
standard a product as patent flour
within two years.
More thau 70 per cent, of the egg
powder is proteids, though the percentage
of albumen, or egg white, is
about one-half as large as in the hen
eggs. me only ingreaieni lacmug i?
the albuminoid of iron, which is unimportant.
Milk eggs will be made all
the year round.
Hurried.?"You say you are really
innocent?" queried the leader of the
vigilantes as the avenging crowd circled
close about the captured wretch.
"I need only a little time to prove
it,' earnestly protested the prisoner.
"Well," said the leader, turning to
the mob around him; "be quick, boys;
it may turn out he's speaking the
truth."
A man always caters to woman's
vanity when he thinks it will further
his own interests.