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^ ^ ISSUED SEMLWEEKL^ l. m. GRIST & SONS, PnbUshers. J % ^amilj Jletrspaper: jfor tht promotion of the political, Social, g-gricultural, and (Etmrnttyiat Interests of the jjjtople. {TEKM8i?o^0coii! wraoTOTO*'108' ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1903. _ NO. 4. ^???? TIE RE) ?? -? By Rev. Char] Author of "In His Steps," "Rc Copyright, 1901, by Charles M. Sheldon. SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. John Gordon, heir to riches, refuses a position in his father's bank and leaves home, father and sister to work for the people of the slums. Sordid money getting and a life of frivolity are revolting to him. Gordon's society sweetheart, Luella Marsh, refuses to share his life at Hope House, "an oasis of refuge and strength" among tenements, saloons and vaudiville halls. They part. Gordon goes to Hope House and meets its head, Miss Grace Andrews. He decides to join the slum settlement. His friend, David Barton, a successful "yellow" journalist with a bad cough, asks him to conduct a reform page in the Daily News, edited by one Harris. Gordon considers the offer. The offer tempts Gordon, but he scores "yellow" journalism. Editor Harris overhears the conversation, but gives no sign when he joins Gordon and Barton. Harris offers Gordon $500 a month to edit a slum reform page. Barton's cough grows worse. Gordon refuses Harris' offer because he thinks Harris wants the page for sensational, not reform, purposes. Gor. don finds that his father and Luella's own the worst tenements in the slums. I Gordon asks his father to destroy his illegal, insanitary tenements, but is repulsed. Luella's father, who owns the worst dumb-bell tenement, visits it in company with Gordon. They also visit a disreputable vaudiville house near by. The indecency shocks Mr. Marsh. He promises to do something about the dumbbell tenement. Barton's cough is worse. Mrs. Captain George Effingham calls and Gordon learns that Barton has been sending consumptives to Colorado at his own expense. Miss Andrews tells Gordon hat Tommy Randall, a political boss, flocks all tenement house reform. Gordon meets Randall at the bedside of Louie Caylor, a victim of the barbarous tenement system. Gordon and Randall oppose each other concerning the funeral arrangements, and Gordon defeats the boss. Gordon arranges a decent funeral. The dumbell tenement, owned by Luella's father, catches fire. CHAPTER VII. "ft'? -Mrs. Caviar/1' HE ladders went up quickly, but to the i breathless crowd .hat uow blackened i i every uuuai-iup uuu A?A choked Bowen street ~~ with a mass of upturned white faces touched with the glow of tire it seemed as if the company was unusually slow. Before the ladders had reached a perpendicular, before they had trembled, swaying over toward the building, a dozen faces appeared at the upper windows beside the child with her charge, beckoning frantically for help. "See! See there!" Barton cried again with the same nervous tension which he had shown since leaving his rooms. A tigure leaped out of the upper window, whirled over twice, striking the upper extension of the ladders, and fell into the street. The crowd groaned. A second tigure stood out on a window sill and, throwing up its arms, with a shrill cry more beastly than human, flung itself out toward the ladders now leaning over toward the building. It was a woman. She actually touched one of the ladder rounds with her fingers and for a second the crowd thought she had grasped it, but for only a second. The body shot downward, and Barton and Gordon closed K-ntM A?rnn nn/1 tni'Alnnf nrilir nilf fhoir I IUCII CJCO UUU iUTUtUUKUUJ pub iUW4 hands up over their ears to shut out the horrible sound. Again the crowd groaned, and a wild beast yell arose. "The life blanket!" some one shrieknvwl I* TTftQ nnlw nftoi* fhp YChfllp thing was history that Bowen street learned that owing to the narrow courts and the broken pavements the department was fatally hindered in all Its movements and the wagon carrying the life blanket had overturned at a corner, killing the driver and maiming one of the horses so that it had to be shot. Make out another indictment for murder against a municipality which deliberately robs the people of its rights iu order to keep the wheels of the political machine moving. What are human lives compared with the spoils of office and the plunder that is a part of political service to the powers that be? The ladder fell over and touched the window sill where the child of the tenements was standing with her burden. and then a scene occurred that will never leave John Gordon as long as lie toils on bearing human woes on his brave and bleeding heart. The child suddenly disappeared, and in her place could be seen two men and a woman lighting like wild beasts for fORIER. les 31. SlieUlon. ibert Hardy's Seven Days," Ete. the first chance at the ladder which rested on the sill. A fireman was climbing up and had almost reached the maddened fighters. At the other windows wild, imploring faces begged In agony for life. Two more forms were seen to jump from the windows at the corner farthest from the ladder. The fire was now bursting through the roof, and one group from the window next the lighters above the ladder fell back as if a floor had given way?all this in the few seconds it took to be burned into Gordon with awful detail?when he saw the ladder rise to a perpendicular as if some giant hand had pushed it back. It rose until it stood straight, the solitary ligure of the fireman silhouetted against the blazing wall, and then the entire front of the house, with a roar that gathered volume in a sickening rush of death, fell over Into the street, burying in one mingled mass the tireman who had becu standing an the ladder, his companion at the foot and the crowd in the street that, caught in a trap, could not escape even if there had been time to give warning of the danger. For one awful second Gordon and j Barton, who had been standing Just outside the reach of the falling wall, looked into the blazing interior of the tenement. Figures within that roaring furnace leaped down into it from floors and window ledges. Others Jumped into the street. They looked like great insects leaping into jets of flame. Then with a deafening crash the remaining side walls fell inward. The rear wall remained standing for a minute, then swayed and crashed backward upon the lower buildings behind, where at I once fire broke out in a dozen places.! To the friends it seemed as if the air suddenly filled with groans, with appeals, with cries that were like curses, like wails of spirits that had been denied all earthly happiness and by the greed of selfish man had now been consigned to endless torments in the other world, there to be subject to the furies' rage, to the ceaseless suffering that earth had begun and hell existed to perpetuate. Aud oh, for you, little child of the tenements! Nameless heroine, crushed into shapeless form of horror, still faithful to your charge, both going down together into that grave of fire, who shall deliver your eulogy, who shall rear your monument? For one among those who leaped into the street lived long enough to tell your story and to say that you ran back into the burning building to warn sleeping Inmates and then was snatched away from the window, from the only place of possible rescue, by the very men and women wakened out of suffocating death. If there is reward or compensation in the world beyond, the good God has surely folded you into the vale of pleasure, luto the paradise of childhood's playground, that eternity will provide. For you never knew what play meant here. As the rear wall fell, crushing in the rocfs of the smaller houses near and spreading the fire into the adjoining blocks David Barton gripped John Gordon's arm tight and exclaimed: "The wind is changing! Hope House will go next!" They were on the corner next to Hope House, and the horror of the whole situation was suddenly intensified if pos sible uy the danger which now threatened the one building in the whole ward that represented humanity at its best. The wind had changed to the east. The sain was increasing. It came down in a steady cold that had no effect on the fire except apparently to 1 U/> TKa r? rtrfiil AAn fllcH ATI lllirrcub? 1U? lUiJ* 1UC UUl U1 wu* UIMVA* was increasing every moment. The alarm had been sent In for the entire department. In almost a second's tlm? the mass of low wooden tenements that stood crowded together on both sides of Hope House was bursting with fire. The maddened, panic smitten people were carrying their goods out into the streets. Under the shapeless mass of hot bricks and twisted iron beams In Bowen street human forms could be seen?here a face staring up, here a hand, a foot, a trunk of formless horror. The whole pile seemed a writhing, tangled heap of human agony. Groans and cries burst from It that were appalling. The mass had fallen so near to the two men that some of the bricks luy at their feet. Before either realized what he was doing they were both digging at the ghastly mound, Hope House forgotten for the time being. Their hands were burned and torn by the hot bricks and splintered beams. Barton especially seemed Inspired with unusual strength. He was drenched to the skin. His light overcoat was soon a mass of tattered rags. He was lifting a beam that lay across a figure that had moved a hand thrust out of the debris. Gordon was helping him. "It's Mrs. Caylor!" Gordon exclaimed as the face of the figure appeared. The woman was crushed into a sickening physical mass, but she was alive and conscious. "It's Mr. Gordon. Mrs. Caylor!" said ' ? ? V. ^ rrrln/wl Joan, witn a sou, us ue icuuai; the face and with Barton's help lifted off the beam that had crushed her. The woman gasped and spoke feebly, but clearly: "Do you think I'll see Louie? He was a good boy?a good boy." "Yes, yes. Mrs. Caylor, and his body's straight now, and he's out of pain." "A good boy. Yes, out of pain now," she murmured. Gordon and Barton lifted the form and carried it over to I 1 Hope House entrance. There was no need of words. No other place was possible. As yet the fire had not touched It The crowd that surged through Bowen street hnd suddenly left everything else unsaved to protect Hope House. Miss Andrews was out by that tangled heap of torture and death, digging with her hands at the monstrous pile, working with a man's energy and shaming more than one man by her calm but determined courage. But Hope House had suddenly come to mean more In a few seconds than It had meant in a dozen years to the people. That silent, pale, resolute, awfully patient wbman who had been loving them resistlesslv all these years, who was now over there digging at the living graves of the people, what of the place called her home, the center of her benignant Influence? It should not perish. The people of Bowen street surrounded the place and fought death for a grim hour, aided by re-enforcements of the department. In almost a dream of action Barton and Gordon had participated in this wild fury of defense. They first carried the body of Mrs. Caylor Into the hall. As they laid it down both knew that what they laid down was a lifeless, shapeless heap of bones and flesh. She was with Louie now On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden Where the tree of life is blooming. The men rushed out to the defense, and In that next hour Waterside district witnessed ns heroic a struggle as any age of chivalry ever boasted. It was not an occasiou for the department to dictate any rules or methods of procedure. The people made rules. They tore down buildings, flung themselves upon flaming fragments, stamped under foot and literally beat back the fury of the encircling fire. And Hope House was saved. When it was nil over, the building stood blackened, defaced, scorched, but intact, and into its archway came streaming a dark procession of forms bearing dreadful burdens, which were laid in straight rows through the hall and on the library floor. Before the gray dawn broke through the pall of smoke, dripping with a drizzling air that penetrated even the warmly dressed early risers on the boulevards, there were forty-seven forms lying side by side on the floor of Hope House, and under the ghastly mound how many more no man dared to guess. John Gordon found Miss Andrews still at work out by the ruins. "You must stop and eat something," he said gently, but firmly. And as he spoke he laid his hand on her arm. She was bearing on her face and person the marks of her desperate energy. But she had never ceased to be Grace A nHronro no 1 m aolf nAiaoH nntlpnt In ?XIiUl V. TT vaiui| OVM ??? domitabie, but never hysterical or nervous. A faint color appeared In her face, and she let Gordon bring her something to eat She tasted It sitting on a beam near the ruins. The firemen, who knew her, never thought of refusing her a place with the workers. Through the dawn up into the increasing light of the awful day that revealed new horrors she worked on, and Gordon and Barton silently worked beside her. The great excitement had kept Barton nerved up to the occasion. As the dawn broke, however, the strain was too severe for the frail tenement He felt something snap somewhere, and his eyes blinded as he staggered over the ruins. He brushed back the hair that hung matted and dripping over his forehead and tried to steady himself. There was a child's arm protrud!***? ^?Am o mnco n# Tllo cfor Q nH hHpkfl iUfe LIUUi U UittOO V4 J/4MVVV4 MWM at which he had been working as in a nightmare, sobbing and coughing, and alternately cursing and praying. Gordon was several feet away, lifting a beam with Miss Andrews. He straightened up and saw it all in a mist that darkened swiftly. Again be brushed his hand over his forehead and tried by all the exercise of his will to keep from falling, but the next moment he reeled, stumbled against a projecting timber and fell face downward. The Angers of the child, which had been moving slightly, touched his warm cheek. When John Gordon came over to lift Barton up, the child's arm encircled Barton's neck. Gordon gently unclasped the ai^n and, lifting up his friend, carried him Into Hope House. As he laid him down Barton opened his eyes and whispered, "Never mind me, save the others." Gordon kneeled and kissed Barton's forehead, and, leaving him in charge of one of the residents, he went out to the work. When he and Miss Andrews had dug out the child, it had breathed Its last. Miss Andrews kissed the dis * ^ < figured race, anu me ursi ieai uiai Gordon had ever seen her shed fell on the body. "One of our children In the kindergarten. Oh, my God! For this slaughter of the innocents who shall be counted guilty?" She carried the child Into the house, and when she cauie back there was an added divinity of righteous Indignation In her blue eyes, added sadness in the lines of ber patient face. Day broke on Waterside district Ward 18, over a scene that had never before been witnessed in any part of the city. There had been very many fires before this horror of tenement house tire, Wurd 18. But no disaster had ever before been marked by such sickening slaughter of children. In No. 91, Mr. Marsh's double decker, twentynine children were burued or crushed to death. In the other blocks twentythree more were victims of the falling wall or the night's exposure. Seventyfive families were instantly beggared, saving only the clothes they wore, and left without a roof to shelter or a cent to pay for bread. Great piles of valueless furniture and bedding filled the streets and alleys, soaked by the rain which continued all day. Hope House stood solitary and alone, choked with the dead and the living, among whom Miss Andrews moved with an angel's pity and a commander's firmness. She was perfectly self possessed and knew Just what to do next. Under her leadership order grew out of awful confusion, and Hope House, transferred into a hospital, knew at once that she who had been the gracious head of the settlement was also its director under the Shadow of this fearful calamity. Barton had been carried into one of the resident's rooms. When Gordon came in to see him after he had yielded to re-enforcements sent in by the department, Barton was lying so pale and still that Gordon feared the end had come, but the great eyes opened in a moment, and Barton whispered: "Take me up to my rooms, John. Williams is used to caring for me, and I am in the way here." "In the way! Miss Andrews," Gordon spoke to her as she appeared at the door of the room, "is my friend Mr, Barton in the way here?" "In the way! I feared you had passed on, Mr. Barton, when I saw you carried into the house by Mr. Gordon. You are not able to be moved. The exposure"? "The exposure did me good!" Barton Interrupted almost roughly. "Send for a carriage, John. I can go easily enough. I fainted out there. I'm not used to night work. They saved Hope House, Miss Andrews?" "Yes, thank God," she said softly. Even with all the horrors of that night, and the awful sight out in the hall and library, she felt a thrill at the thought that the people had loved her a little. "Get me out of here, John," Barton said again as Miss Andrews stepped back into the hall and resumed her work. "It's the beginning of the end, and I don't want it to come to me here." Gordon did not remonstrate. Under other circumstances he might have done so. When he had first entered the room, he had partly closed the door, but the groans, the shrieks for mercy, the wails of friends discovering relatives in the piles of crushed humanity out on the fioor, had swept into the room and Barton had shrunk down in the bed and snuaaerea. uoruon weui oui, closed the door and ordered a carriage for Burton. When It came, he went to help Barton get ready. To his amazement, he was up and waiting. When he got up off the bed on which he was sitting, he reeled on his feet and would have fallen if Gordon had not put an arm about him. "You are not able to leave!" "I am, I tell you! I will never die here. I'll live long enough to get to my rooms. And I'll live long enough to write up this horror too. The day of Judgment ought to begin today for some of the people in this God forsaken metropolis, John. There'B your friend, Mr. Marsh! I suppose the building was insured. He never los; anything, eh? Not that sort!" Gordon supported him through the hall, and Barton, in spite of his tremendous will power, nearly fainted at the sights and sounds there. Miss Andrews was helping one of the surgeons. A great crowd tnrongeo tne entrance to Hope House, and Gordon had great difficulty In getting Barton out to the carriage. He put him Into It and was stepping In himself when Barton pulled the door and told the driver to go on. Gordon hesitated. "You're needed here. Go on, driver. I'll promise to live till tomorrow, John. Go In and help her. She needs some one." The carriage started slowly on account of the crowd. Gordon waved a silent goodby. When the carriage was out of Boweu street. Barton fainted. He lay like a dead man In a corner of the carriage, and when the driver reached his rooms and got down to open the door he was frightened at the sight of what looked like a corpse In />nrhn<ro ftp nnd Williams carried Barton In. and before noon Barton lay In a tremendous fever, which the doctor said was a clear case of pneumonia. "Can't save him," the doctor said to Williams curtly. "I'll send up the best nurse we've got. But Barton might as well shoot himself as do what he did last night" Down at Hope House all day John Gordon, Grace Andrews, the assistants and a score of surgeons worked to save life, with heart breaking doubt in their souls as they labored as to the future fate of the mangled, crushed, burned, maimed humanity that did not mercifully die. In the feverish horror of it all, as the work of searching the ruins went on and dense throngs of curiosity seekers choked all the district, John Gordon was aware of one prominent figure that was apparently omnipresent?Tommy Randall. He was on hand, cheerfully encouraging those who had lost everything, securing temporary quarters for those who were wandering bewildered through the streets or sitting dumb and stolid on their damaged piles of household goods, distributing wagon loads of bread and coffee and in several cases hunting up lost children and bringing together families that bad become separated uunug iue confusion. Once as he stepped out of the hall for a moment to get a breath of fresh air Gordon almost ran Into Randall, who bad one child by the hand and another In his arms, both of them devouring sandwiches. Randall nodded to Gordon, but did not speak, and Gordon stepped back without saying anything. But all the rest of the day he had a vision of Tommy Randall and those children. TO BE CONTINUED. A Bibulous Opinion. "It Is appalling to contemplate the effects that this Increase In the price of corn may lead to," said the panicky person. "It may lead to something like a famine." "Worse than that," returned Colonel Stillwell solemnly; "worse than tha., In my opinion, the pangs of thirst are even more terrible than those of starvation."?^Washington Star. |ttisfrllanrou6 fading. BESIEGED BY INDIANS. How Texas Rangers Saved the Family of a Buffalo Hnnter. "A short time ago," writes a correspondent, "I took a buckboard at Stamford, In Jones county, which Is the northwestern Texas terminus of the Texas Central railroad, and drove to Flat Top Mountain, a distance of twenty miles, through a pasture, which Incloses under one fence 100,000 acres of grazing land. Flat Top Is one of thousands of buttes scattered Irregularly In that region. From Its pinnacle one can see as far as vision can reach. It Is now a land of farmers and stock raisers, but when I was there, vao ra O crn uct yv ttn men tj auu vuii vj jvata it was a land of death and danger. "In 1876, the year of the Custer calamity on the Little Big Horn, being then a Texas ranger, I halted at Flat Top with a squad of eight rangers. By some strange means the Comanches and Apaches just beyond the Texas border, had learned of the incident of the Little Big Horn, and, elated with the success of the Sioux, the southern savages were bent upon massacre. Reynolds, a sergeant, called 'Mage,' was in command. Standing on the peak of the butte he saw through his telescope a string of warriors, 200 In number, moving rapidly toward the site now occupied by Stamford, where a dugout sheltered the family of a buffalo hunter. 'We must save them,' Reynolds said, and in less than five minutes seven men were trotting toward the advancing line of Comanches. The eighth man was galloping southward to secure reinforcements. "The wife and children of the hunter were taken up behind the rangers, and by a rapid march a rugged hillock was reached Just in time. The rangers were armed with carbines and revolvers and Mrs. f!?rr_ the wife of the trapper, had a long-range buffalo gun, left at home by her husband, who had started a week before to trap beaver on the upper forks of the Colorado. The Comanches were allowed to ride within close range, when a volley unhorsed five of their number and disclosed our position. Surprised and no doubt badly frightened, they retreated In confusion. Our horses, which we had abandoned, were running over the range, and were scor caught by our foes. "By the number of horses they ascertained our strength, except that Mrs. Carr was not figured in their calculations, and the warriors began preparations for a siege. We had a few pounds of jerked buffalo meat and a little bread. Water was a grave consideration, and we felt the more concerned because of the fact that the children were already crying from thirst. After dark we found a small spring at the foot of our natural fortress, and we soon filled our canteens. The food supply was placed In Mrs. 1 Carr's hands, and she proved a vlvandiere worthy of the trust. We ascer- 1 tained afterward that during the thirty-six hours of the siege she ate nothing, dividing her share among her little ones, and leaving all the rest for the men. i "To cut the story short, the Coman- 1 ches made desperate efTorts to rush our fortress, each time retiring with loss, 1 Mrs. Carr slaying a big buck with a bullet from her heavy carbine. Our : courier returned at sunset on the second day of the siege, accompanied by 1 Mr. Carr and thirty cowboys from a ! Coleman county ranch. After a fierce battle the reenforcing men broke through the cordon of savages and entered our fortress, bringing plenty of 1 food, ammunition and water. The day following the Comanches raised the 1 siege and departed toward the Double 1 Mountain fork of the Brazos river. ' They left their dead, seventeen in num- 1 ber, being in a hurry to get away, be- ' cause, as we afterward learned, Major John B. Jones, the commander-inchief of the ranger force of Texas, i was approaching the scene from the Panhandle, with three troops of his noted Indian fighters, following the trail i of the raiding red men. "The youngest of the Carr children died of croup during the siege. Three : of our garrison were wounded by the 1 bullets of our foes, having been incau- ! tious in the efforts to obtain advantageous shots. One of the three, John ' Ward, died. We buried the child and the ranger in the same grave, one of ' the men reading the Episcopal burial 1 service. 1 "The grave of John Ward and little Lucy Carr can still be discerned by ' the inscription it bears, roughtly cut ' with a tomahawk on the sandstone < monument we placed at the head of < the double grave. It is a rugged stone, ' honey-combed and lichen-grown, and < weights town or more. It took our 1 combined strength to turn it over. All the tomahawks we could procure were worn out chipping a smooth surface ^ for the epitaph, which reads: " 'Here lies John Ward, a ranger, and 1 Lucy Carr, in whose defence he died. ' Soft rest the prairie turf upon the breasts of the ranger and the little J child.' "Major Jones overtook the warriors, recovering our horses and many more the raiders had captured. While retreating and fighting the rangers, in reverse, they ran into a squadron of United States dragoons, and between the rangers and the regulars the Comanches were pulverized, losing, together with those slain in the siege of the butte, 114 of the 200 warriors who started that moon on the warpath."? St. Louis Globe-Democrat. A New Carnegie Story.?A new and interesting story is being told of Andrew Cornegie, says London TitBits. He was walking along a country road not far from Skibo Castle I ? when he came across an old cottager busily engaged In putting a thatch roof on his cottage. He asked the man why he did not put on a tiled roof and was told it was too expensive. "How much?" he curtly asked. "Fifty pounds," the man replied, and to his intense amazement and joy, Mr. Carnegie there and then wrote him out a check for that amount. Going Indoors he told his wife the news. "Mon," she .said scornfully, "why dinna ye say 75 pounds? Go and tell him ye made a mistake." The cottager Journeyed up to the castle and was shown into Mr. Carne gie's study. He explained that he had been wrong about the cost, saying it would be 25 pounds more. The millionaire philanthropist asked for the check back, cooly tore It to pieces, and the dismayed and disconsolate cottager was promptly shown the door. TRAINED TO HUNT MEN. Points on the Education of Bloodhonndi to Track Criminals. The first attempt to track a criminal In the city of Washington with bloodhounds was made recently, when Detective Trumbo set his two hounds in pursuit of the murderer of Mrs. Kate Jordan in Anacostia, a few hours after the crime. In Washington it has been thought that bloodhounds would be of little service, and it is found that they can pick up the scent on asphalt pavement only with the greatest difficulty. Conditions in the Anacostia case, however, were different. The hunt for the murderer was going on with promise of swift success until a fall of snow covered the trail so effectively as to make it impossible, after the scent had been lost on one side of the river, to pick it up on the other. Detective Trumbo's bloodhounds are ugly animals; but their looks belie their intelligence, as well as their aristocratic lineage, for which their owner prizes them. The dogs now grown to be large, were puppies that he slid into his overcoat pockets when he bought them down in Tennessee. Now they are nine months old and have graduated from a course of education in Washington. The hrst thing mey learned was to respond to their names ?Raymond and Mame?and then to a peculiar whistle that the detective composed for the purpose. Afterward came a course of kindergarten work In the ordinary dog play of locating things by scent. The dogs, after sport with a ball, were taught to hunt for It. Mame from the start seemed to have the keener olfactory sense, while her companion was inclined to become tired after the least work. After the hounds had been educated to locate objects with which they were familiar they were allowed to smell of an unfamiliar object and then told to hunt it. They became proficient in returning the objects of their quest to their master. To teach them this took weeks of patient toil. It completed their grammar school course. Finally they were taken out in the i country for college education. They were held while Detective Trumbo would take a run off out of sight. It was easy for them to follow one with whom tjiey were so familiar as their { master, especially as the scent was In the open air. Their final lessons came in thpir heine allowed to follow colored men hired to travel across the country. ( When the dogs were permitted to follow human beings they seemed to be In their element. They have been very accurate in following the exact path taken by men. On one trial the trail 1 led along a creek bounded on both sides , by steep banks. The man pursued was fully an hour ahead of the dogs and : their master. Suddenly, as the dogs were following the scent, they left the creek and started up the bank, to the consternation t>f Detective Trumbo, who*had ordered j the "fugitive" to follow the creek. The hounds went to the summit of a bluff, but returned to the creek again. When the man was found Detective Trumbo asked him why he went up the bluff. At first he denied it; but, after thinking, said, "Oh, yes; I went up there to ?? tie my anuc. Christmas eve, when the dogs were i taken to the scene of the Anacostla murder, the work of tracking men was ! not new to them. They obtained a j 3cent of the criminal from a chair on ivhich he had been seated, and followed ! his tracks directly to the river. i The ancestors of the dogs are said to i be the coldest-nosed inbred breed in ( the United States. Last July- their J mother, owned by J. W. McCall, of < Knoxville, Tenn., earned {1,000 reward ! by running down a criminal eighty- j three miles away and on a track twen- ? ty-eight hours old. The sire of the 1 logs is also well trained and the pair ' tiave been valuable in locating several criminals in the south.?Washington j Post. ( 1 Tub Black Bottle.?Sir Wilfrid \ Lawson, the great temperance advo- i ?ate, once met a laborer walking along < the road, with the old familiar black * jottle protruding from his pocket. i "Empty that cursed stuff away," I laid Sir Wilfrid vehemently, pointing J to the bottle. "Drink something better ( han that poison." The man was so overcome mat ne :ook out the receptacle and emptied the iquor into the road. Sir Wilfrid's face beamed with Measure, and, handing the man a shillng, he said: "Take that, my good felow. It will buy you something bet:er." The man, to the intense disgust of sir Wilfrid, immediately entered a pubic house and spent the shilling in beer. 3n coming out Sir Wilfrid accosted the aborer and asked why he had spent he money for beer. "Faith, your honor, 'twas that I hought you wanted me to drink, for he bottle of poison I was after thrown' away was cold tay!" t POWERFUL WATER JETS. The Enormoni Force of Streams With No Other Power Than That of Gravity. In some parts of the west there are great bapks of pebbles and boulders in which gold Is to be found. It Is not there as nuggets, or even as ore, but as fine particles that have been washed down Into the depths of the hills by the long-continued action of natural forces. This gold cannot be obtained by the usual methods of the miner; It would not pay him to adopt them, because the particles are so fine and are so scattered that the time consumed in getting them out would be worth more than the product. To the successful working of these great pebble cliffs the miner has adapted a stream of water, which does the work thoroughly unaided by any force except its own. In many directions, away up on the surrounding hills, sluices and waterways are constructed, so that the little stream and rills will send their waters down to a reservoir which is built somewhere within 300 or 400 yards of the cliff that is to be worked and 100 or 150 feet above it. The reservoir having been built, an Iron pipe, varying in diameter from six to twenty inches, according to the work that is to be done, is laid from it to what is called the working level; that is to say to the point from which the workmen will direct the stream thus conveyed to them. At this point a piece of machinery is built, which weighs from one to three tons, and the frame on which it rests is not only securely anchored to the ground; but is weighted down with ten or fifteen tons of rocks. And yet it Is merely a nozzle joined to the iron pipe that brings the water from the reservoir. Why it is so heavily weighted down will soon be seen. The nozzle, heavy as it is, is so constructed that it may be directed at any part of the cliff by the hands of one man; yet if it should, by any unfortunate accident, get out of the man's control, and the water be not instantly turned off at the reservoir, it becomes as unmanageable as a tornado. When everything is ready the sluice gate at the reservoir'is opened and the water begins to run with headlong force down the iron pipe and out at the nozzle, which generally has a diameter of about eight inches. The pipeman turns the stream on the cliff, and pebbles and boulders, some of the latter weighing more than a ton, are knocked down and scattered about like corks in the fury of a hurricane. The force of this stream is almost * incredible. It has no power behind it but its own gravity, and as it strikes * the cliff it make a roar that may be heard for more than a mile. It will wash down more "pay dirt" in one day than 10,000 men could handle with the old-fashioned "rockers." As the water comes from the nozzle it is like solid ice. Try to stick a knife blade into it and the knife will be Jerked from the hand. Try to thurst a crowbar into it?and a strong man may Im In nr + Y*a T\aI? f V?olf ATI OUVJUCCU 111 gCLklllg bllC |/UII1V Iiu.il. ?*? inch in; but the bar will be wrenched violently from his hands. Nor could the strongest man that lives drive an axe into the stream further than half an inch. Sometimes a nozzle will tear Itself loose from its fastenings, and when that happens the stream deals destruction and death all around it until some one shuts off the water up at the reservoir.?Philadelphia Record. Amusing Mistake*. Visitors at an English country house are allowed to do whatever they like during the forenoon. An eminent geologist, who was entertained at one of these houses, asked for coffee early one morning, and started out with a suit of old clothes and a bag of tools to make a special study of the rock ledges of the estate. During me iorenoon one 01 me wuir try gentry came upon him by the roadside, and supposing him to be a workman entered Into conversation with him. The geologist was seated on se ledge of rock, and was making vigorous use of mallet and chisel. The stranger telkeu with him In a patronizing way, and while not receiving an Intellible account of the work on which he was engaged, was Impressed with the supposed workman's Intelligence and good manners. Indeed, he fumbled in his pocket and brought out a half crown, which he tossed to the man with the mallet. The geologist Beemed surprised, but picked it up and put it In his pocket after thanking the gentleman. There was a dinner party at the country house In the evening, and the same gentleman was introduced to the eminent geologist, who at once began to laugh. "I have the half crown," he said at cnce, "and I shall not give It up. It is the first tip I ever received, and I shall 3how it to my friends as a trophy of superior intelligence." Lord James once had a similar experience. He was strolling through the Temple Gardens In London when a party of tourists encountered him, and isked to be directed to some of the nost interesting places. He volunteered to show them about, ind took them first to the Temple church and Goldsmith's grave, and fllally to the famous Elizabethan hall >f the Middle Temple. His explana:ions were lucid and interesting, and vhen he parted from his new acluaintances one of them gave him a shilling, ?nd remarked that few guides ,vere equally intelligent. The noble flWllll?? ^omnralv flflH I1UI1 IUUIV ilic 0111111115 u^iuuivvi :hanked the stranger. He is said to lave kept it to this day, and to have 'requently told the story of his experience with the innocent tourists in the Temple Gardens. Another story is related of an Engish duke who was standing at the door )f his house when a carriage rolled up. near-sighted, gentleman alighted, isked if it were the duke's residence, md on receiving a respectful nod from :he supposed servant, gave him a shlllng. The duke, perceiving that he had jeen mistaken for a footman, kept the ihllling, raised his hand to his forehead ind made the usual salute. The nearilghted gentleman went into the house, ind in due time was presented to the luke, and never had a suspicion that ie had tipped one of the highest memjers of the British aristocracy at his >wn door. The duke could hardly have offered 1 more striking proof that he was a ,'entleman by instinct as well as by )irth than by pocketing the unlntenlonal affront to his dignity.