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^ ISSTOP SEMI-WEEKL^ l. m. grist's sons, Publishers. } % <j#amilg Jhrcspapor: 4or ^ promotion of the political, Jjjyfol gugriniltnral, and dlommmial interests of the people. { ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1903. NO. 96. ) me SKI 4 ========= ^ Au (I J MThe Man Fi 4 "Glengarry School Da < < Coyyriyht, 1899. by FLE> ^ rniPTun YVTT HOW THE . SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED. WTIEN. near the end of the year, (he Pilot fell sick Bill nursed him like a mother and sent gEgfi&l him off for a rest and change to Owen, forbidding him to return till the church was finished, and visiting him twice a week. The love between the two was most beautiful, and when I find my heart grow hard aud unbelieving in men and things I let my mind wander back to a scene that I came upon in front of Gweu's house. These two were standing alone in the clear moonlight, Bill with his hand upon the Pilot's shoulder and the Pilot with his arm around Bill's neck. "Dear old Bill," the Pilot was saying, "dear old Bill," and the voice was breaking Into a sob. And Bill, standing stiff and straight, looked up at the stars, coughed and swnllowe? hard for some moments, and said in a queer, croaky voice: "Shouldn't wonder if a Chinook would blow up." "Chinook?" laughed the Pilot, with a catch in his voice. "You dear old humbug." And he stood watching till Ua lont fnrm cwnvpd down Into the I'm going to stay with the game." Then, leaning on the pulpit, he said: "Let's pray," and began: "God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll ur.Jerstand if I don't put things right." Then a pause followed, during which I heard 6ome of the women beginning to sob. "What I want to say," Bill went on, "is we're mighty glad about this church, which we know it's you and the Pilot that's worked it And we're all glad to chip in." Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face working and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started again: "But about the Pilot?I don't want to persoom?but If you don't mind we'd like to have hixn stay.. In fact, don't canyon. The day of the church opening came, as all days, however long waited for, will come, a bright, beautiful Christmas day. The air was still and full of frosty light, as If arrested by a voice of command, waiting the word to move. The hills lay under their dazzling coverlets asleep. Back of all the great peaks lifted their majestic heads out of the dark forests and gazed with calm, steadfast faces upon the white, sunlit world. Today, as the light filled "This here church is open. Excuse me." up the cracks that wrinkled their hard faces, they seemed to smile, as if the Christmas joy had somehow moved something in their old, stony hearts. The people were all there?farmers, ranchers, cowboys, wives and children ?all happy, all proud of their new church, and now all expectant, waiting for the Pilot and the Old Timer, who were to drive down if the Pilot was fit and were to bring Gwen if the day was fine. As the time passed on Bill, as musier ui cereujouieB, ueguu iv giun uneasy. Then Indian Joe appeared and handed a note to Bill. He read It, grew gray In the face and passed It to uie. Looking. I saw in poor, wavering lines the words: Dear Bill?Go on with the opening. Sing the psalm?you know the one?and say a prayer, and. oh. come to me quick. Bill. YOUR PILOT. Bill gradually pulled himself together. announced in a strange voice, "The Pilot can't come." handed me the psalm and said: "Make them siug." It was that grand psalm for all hill peoples. "1 to the hills will lift mine eyes." and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying words. After the psalm was over the people sat and waited. Bill looked at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Itobbie Muir, then said to me in u low voice: "Kin you inuke a prayer?" I shook my head, ashamed, as I did so, of my cowardice. Again Bill paused, then said: "The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin any one make one?" Again dead, solemn silence. Then Hi. who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help: "What's the mutter with you trying, yourself. Bill?" The red begun to come up in Bill's white face. " 'Tain't in my line, but the Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ( PILOT 1 H CO^MOU r kor of ^ om Glengarry" ? ys" And "Bl&ck Rock" IING H. REVELL COMPANY _ see Dow we kin do without him. Look at all the boys here. He's Just getting his work In and Is bringing 'em right along, and. God Almighty, if you take him away it might be a good thing for himself, but for us?0 God " The voice quivered and was silent "Amen!" Then some one, 1 think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began "Our Father," and all Joined that could Join to the end. For a few moments Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as If remembering his duty, he said: "This here church Is open. Excuse me." He stood nt the door, gave a word of direction to Hi. who had followed him out. ard leaping on his bronco shook him out into a hard gallop. The Swan Creek church was opened. The form of service may not have been correct, but If great love counts for anything, and appealing faith, then all that was necessary was done. CHAPTER XXIII. THE PILOT'S LAST PORT. |X the old times a funeral was J regarded iu the Swan Creek ESS* country as a kind of solemn 1S9SJ festivity. Iu those days, for the most part, men died In their boots and were planted with much honor and loyal libation. There was often neither shroud nor colliu, and in the far west many a poor fellow lies as he fell, wrapped in his own or his comrade's blanket. It was the manager of the X L company's ranch that introduced crape. The occasion was the funeral of one of tlie much cowboys, killed by his bronco, but when the pallbearers and mourners appeared with bauds and streamers of crape this was voted by the majority as "too gay." That circumstance alone was sufficient to render that funeral famous, but it was remembered. too. as having shocked the proprieties in another and more serious manner. Xo one would 4>e so narrow minded as to object to the custom of the return procession falling Into a series of horse races of the wildest description and ending up at La tour's In a general riot. Rut to race with the corpse was considered bad form. The "corpse dri ver," as he was called, could hardly be blamed on this occasion. Ills acknowledged place was at the head of the procession, and it was a point of honor that, that place should be retained. The fault lay clearly with the driver of the X L ranch sleigh, containing the mourners (an innovation. by the way), who felt aggrieved that Ili ICendal. driving the Ashley team with the pallbearers (another Innovation), should be given the place of honor next the corpse. The X I, driver wanted to know what, iu the name of all that was black and blue, the Ashley ranch had to do with the funeral? Whose was that corpse, anyway? Didn't it belong to the X L ranch? III. on the other hand, contended that the corpse was in charge of the pallbearers. It was their duty to see it right to the grave, and if they were not on hand how was It goin' to get there? They didn't expect that it would git up and get there by itself, did they? Hi didn't want no blanked mourners foolin' round that corp till it was properly planted; after that they might git In their work. But the X L driver could not accept this view, and at the first opportunity slipped past III and his pallbearers ami took the place next the sleigh that carried the cotiin. It is possible that Hi might have borne with this affront and loss of position with even mind, but the jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past triumphantly could not be endured, and the next moment the three teams were abreast in a race as for dear life. The corpse driver, having the advantage of the beaten track, Boon left the other two behind runntng neck and neck for second place, which was captured finally by Hi and maintained to the grave side in spite of many attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole proceeding, however, was considered quite improper, and at Latour's that night, after full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the corpse driver fairly distributed the blame. For his part, he said, he knew he hadn't ought to make no corp git any such move on. but he wasn't goin' to see that there corp take second place at his own funeral. Not if he could help it. And as for the others, he thought that the pallbearers had a blanked sight more to do with the plautin' than them giddy mourners. But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out the Pilot to his grave it was felt that the foothill country was called to a new experience. They were all there?the men from the Porcupine and from beyond the Fort, the police with the inspector in command, all the farmers for twenty iniles around, and of course all the ranchers and cowboys of the Swan Creek country. There was no effort at repression. There was no need, for In the cowboys for the first time in their experien -e there was no heart for fun. And as they rode up and hitched their horses to .he 'fence or drove their sleighs into the yard and took off the bolls there was ho loud voiced salutation, no guying nor chaffing, but with silent nod they took their places in the crowd about the door or passed into the kitchen. The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy silence. It was something unprecedented in a country where men laughed all care to scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they were quick to read signs, and, with characteristic courtesy, they fell in with the mood they could not understand. There is no man living so quick to feel your mood and so ready to adapt himself to it as is the true westerner. This was the day of the cowboys' grief. To the rest of the community the Pilot was preacher; to them he was 1 comrade and friend. They had been J Blow to admit him to their confidence, 1 but steadily he had won his place with them till within the last few months < they had come to count him as of ] themselves. He had ridden the range 1 with them, he had slept in their shacks 1 and cooked his meals on lluir tin < stoves, and, besides, he was Bill's i chum. Th: . alone was enough to give l him a right to all they owned. He was theirs, and hey were only beginning take full pride In him when he passe d out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new and unexplained. No man In that country had ever shown concern for them, nor bad It oe- i curred to them that any man could till i the Pilot cs:me. It took thein long *o believe that the Interest he showed n i them was genuine and not simply pro- i fessional. 'hen. too. from a preacher they had expected chiefly pity, warn- i lng, rebuke. The Pilot astonished them ; by giving them respect, admiration and t open hearted affection. It was months I before they could get over their sue- ( picion that he was humbugging them. When once they did they gave him 1 back without knowing it all the trust 1 and love of their big. generous hearts. < He had made this world new to some of the'm, and to all had given glimpses 1 of the next. It was no wonde" that they stood in dumb groups about the 1 house where the man who hud doue 1 all this for thciu and had been all this 1 to them lay dead. There was no demonstration of grief. 1 The Duke was iu command, and his 1 quiet, Arm voice, giving directions. 1 helped all to self control. The women who were gathered in the middle room 1 were weeping quietly. Bill was nowhere to be seen, but uear the Inner 1 door sal Gweu in her chair, with Lady ' Charlotte beside ber holding her hand. I Her face, worn with long suffering, ? was pale, but serene as the morning ( sky. and with not a trace of tears. As ( my eye caught hers she beckoned me ' to her. 1 "Where's Bill?" she said. "Bring him in." 1 1 found him at the back of the house. "Aren't you coming in, Bill?" I said, j "No; I guess there's plenty without me." he said in his slow way. "You'd bettor come in; the service is going to begin," I urged. "Don't seem as if I cared for to hear { anythin' much. I ain't much used to e preachin', anyway," said Bill, with c careful indifference, but be added to himself, "except his, of course." "Come in, Bill," 1 urged. "It will look queer, you know," but Bill replied: "I guess I'll not bother," adding after a pause, "You see. there's them wimmln turnin' on the water works, and like as not they'd swamp me sure." "That's so," said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy with his friend's grief. I reported to Gwen, who answered in her old imperious way. "Tell him I want him." I took Bill the message. "Why didn't you say so before?" he said. and. starting up, he passed Into the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. Opposite, and leaning against the door, stood the Duke, with a look of quiet earnestness on hi3 handsome face. At his side stood the Hon. Fred Ashley and behind him the Old Timer, looking bewildered and woe stricken. The Pilot had filled a large place in the old man's life. The rest of the men stood about the room and filled the kitchen beyond, all quiet, solemn, sad. In Gwen's room, the one farthest In. lay the Pilot, stately and beautiful under the magic touch of death. And as I stood and looked down upon the quiet face I saw why Gwen shed no tear, but carried a look of serene triumph. She had read the face aright. The lines of weariness that had been growing so painfully clear the last few months were smoothed#out, the look of care was gone and In place or weariness and care was the proud smile of victory and peace. He had met his foe and was surprised to find his terror gone. The service was beautiful In its simplicity. The minister, the Tilot's chief, had come out from town to take charge. He was rather a little man. but sturdy and well set. His face was burned and seared with the suns and frosts he had braved for years. Still In the prime of -his manhood, his hair and beard were grizzled and his face deep lined, for the toils and cares of a pioneer missionary's life are neither few nor light. But out of his kindly blue eye looked the heart of a hero. ana as ne spoae to us we ien me 1 prophet's touch and caught a gleam of ] the prophet's Are. "I have fought the fight." he read. The ring in his voice lifted up all our heads, and as he pictured to us the life of that battered hero who had written these words I saw Bill's eyes begin to gleam and his lank figure straighten out its lazy angles. Then he turned the leaves quickly and read again: "Let not your heart be troubled. * .* In my Father's house are many mansions." His voice took a lower, sweeter tone; he looked over our heads, and for a few moments spoke of the eternal hope. Then he came back to us and. looking round into the faces turned so eagerly to him. talked to us of the Pilot?how at first he had sent him to us with fear and trembling?he was so young?but how he had come to trust In him and to rejoice in his work and to hope much from his life. Now It was all over; but T he felt sure hia. young friend had not ' < jlven his life. In vain. He paused as ae looked from one to the other till his ?yes rested on Gwen's face. I was startled, as I believe he was. too, at the smile that parted her lips, so evidently saying, "Yes. but how much better I tnow than you." "Yes." he went on, after a pause, answering her smile, "you all know better :han I that his work among you will aot pass away with his removal, but ;ndure \Vhile you live," and the smile )n Gwen's face grew brighter. "And aow vou must not grudge him his re ward and his rest * * and his lome." And Bill, nodding his head slowly, said under his breath, "That's so." Then they sang that hymn of the lawning glory of Immanuel's land, Lady Char' itte playing the organ and the Duke leading with clear, steady roice verse after verse. When they :ame to the last verse the minister Bade a sign, and while they waited he read the words: "I've wrestled on toward heaven 'Gainst storm and wind and tide." And so on to that1 last victorious cry? "I hail the glory dawning In lmmanuel'e land." For a moment It looked as If the singing could not go on, for tears were on the minister's face and the women were beginning to sob, but the Duke's clear, quiet voice caught up the song and steadied them all to the end. After the prayer they all went in and looked at the Pilot's face and passed out, leaving behind only thoae hat knew him best. The Duke and he Hon. Fred stood looking down up>n the quiet face. "The couutry has lost a good man, Duke." said the Hon. Fred. The Duke x>wed silently. Then Lady Charlotte :aiue and gazed a moment. "Hour Piinf." she whisnored. her :eurs falling fast. "Dear, dear Pilot! ["hank God for you! You have done nuch for me." Then she stooped and tissed him on his cold lips and on his forehead. Then Gweu seemed to suddenly vuken as from a dream. She turned ind, looking up In a frightened way, jald to Bill hurriedly: "I want to see him again. Carry ne!" And Bill gathered her up In his arms ind took her in. As they looked down lpon the dead face-with its look of iroud peace and touched with the itateliness of death Gwen's fear passid away, but when the Duke made to :over the face Gwen drew a sharp ireath and, clinging to Bill, said, with l sudden gusp: "Oh, Bill. 1 can't bear it alone! I'm ifrald alone." She was thinking of the long, weary lays of pain before her tfflkt she must 'ace now without the Pllot'6 touch and imlle and voice. , ' "lie, too." said-Bill, thinking of the lays before him. He could have said lothing better. Gwen looked in his ace a moment, then said, "We'll help ach other." and Bill, swallowing hard, ould only nod his head in reply. Once nore they looked upon the Pilot, leanng down and lingering over him, and hen Gwen said quietly: "Take me away. Bill." And Bill carried her into the outer oom. Turning back. I caught a look >n the Duke's face so full of grief that could not help showing my nmazeaent. He noticed and said: "The best man I ever knew, Connor. ae Iius none auiueiuiuj,' 1UI mc iw. ? I'd give the world to die like :hat." Then he covered the face. We sat at Owen's window. Bill, with 3wen In his arms, and I watching. 3own the sloping, snow covered hill ivound the procession of sleighs and lorsemen. without sound of voice or Ingle of bell till, one by one. they )assed out of our sight and dipped lown into the canyon. But we knew 'very step of the winding trail and foiowed them in fancy through that fairy iceue of mystic wonderland. We knew iow the great elms and the poplars mil the birches clinging to the snowy sides interlaced their bare boughs Into i network of bewildering complexity, ind how the cedars and balsams and spruces stood in the bottom, their dark \Aimha nrolcrhtoH rtntrn with hpnw white mantles of suow, and how every stump and fallen log and rotting stick svas made a thing of beauty by the snow that had fallen so gently on them n that quiet spot. And we could see :he rocks of the canyon sides gleam out jlack from under overhanging snow jauks, and we could hear the song of :he Swan in Its many tones, now under ui icy sheet, cooing comfortably, and :hen bursting out Into sunlit laughter ind leaping into a foaming pool, to jlide away smoothly murmuring its deJght to the white banks that curved to kiss the dark water as It fled. And where the flowers had beeu, the violets iml the wind flowers and the clematis ind the columbine and all the ferns jnd flowering shrubs, there lay the mow?everywhere the snow, pure, white and myriad gemmed, but every lake a flower's shroud. Out where the canyon opened to the sunny, sloping prairie there they would lay the Filot to sleep, within touch of the canyon he loved, with all its sleeping things. And there he lies to this :ime. But spring has come many times to the canyon since that winter day. md has called to the sleeping flowers, summoning them forth in merry troops, and ever more and more till the ;anyon ripples with them. And lives ire like flowers. In dying they abide not alone, but sow themselves and bloom again with each returning spring, and ever more and more. for OI ItflJ UUI lilfc llic lUIIUWiU^ ^CUIO, is here and there I came upon one of those that companled with us In those foothill days. I would catch a glimpse In word and deed and look of him we jailed, first in Jest, but afterward with true and tender feeling we were not ashamed to own. our Sky Pilot THE END. t'T Kindness Is the only charm pernitted to the aged; it is the coquetry >f white hairs.?Feuillet. pisccllanrous iJcadint). ATE THE AMERICAN FLAG. Novel Meal That a British Tar Had to Make. "I observe that William Page Bryan, the United States minister to Portugal, recently objected to the Portuguese government to use throughout Portugal of the American flag for a barber's sign, and that the Portuguese government consented to tip the barbers off that that sort of use of the American flag wouldn't do any more," remarked a man who used to be a chief petty officer In the United States navy. "It was nice of Mr. Bryan to S register his objection, and nice of the | Portuguese government to take It so | klndl> and attend to It. But there are 11 more strenuous ways of handling peo- s | pie who In any way abuse the Amer- c lean flag, or used to be at any rate, t I once saw a man compelled to eat t an American flag, stick and all. It e wasn't a big American flag, but It jwas a meal that wouldn't have helped f my digestion out any, small as the v emblem of liberty wa$. -v "It happened In Honolulu. An s American man-o'-war was in that P harbor. A British warship was In the f harbor, too?her name was the Wild e Swan..- As u general thing American ' and British men-o'-war's men don't g chum so's you could notice it. On the o contrary, they generally do about the ^ best they know how to knock each P other's blocks oft after the saki or the n vino or the pulque or the mescal gets t to flowing good and steady. But the t liberty parties from these two ships ' of war got on well enough together at a first in Honolulu. There were no 1 scraps. They kept well apart. If the u Fourth of July hadn't drifted along b there might never have been any a trouble. But Independence Pny did f come along while the two ships were In the harbor, and nearly all hands t from noth ships went ashore on the h day, the Americans on a holiday liberty, and the llme-Julcers, as the t British flat-feet are called, on a prac- li flee march that had been arranged by the British officers Without, of course, e any reference to the fact that it was f the Fourth of July, and that Honolulu, a e\en then before the annexation, was 1 in all essential respects an American f city. The Honolulu folks didn't like a fhe looks of that outfit of sailors and o marines from the Wild Swan march- a ing through the streets of Honolulu in p their side-arms on the Fourth of July, b but they let it go with the emission of a few low growls, as did our men- c ..."-'o man An Hhfirtv u *> ure.i v... ..?v. "When, in the- evening, thp British e tars had got through with the practice a inarch, their officers foolishly allowed t them to break ranks and roll around t! town for a few hours before reporting e aboard the ship. Of course, too, the a British fiatfeet sudsed up, and when d a lime-juicing sailor gets his system 1 suffused with the 'swipes' and saki of n the Kanakas he loses out some on a tact. N "Anyhow, a bunch of the Wild b Swan n.en drifted into Jim Dodd's 8 emporium de booze, while a party of E the American men-o'-war's men were h in there. Jim Dodd was a very patri- P otic American. At one end of his -bar he had a wire basket filled with small >" American fiags on little wooden v sticks. They were souvenirs, to be 0 picked up by patrons and attached to a their hats or their clothes and carried P away. They were about five Inches a square, with, as I say, little wooden v sticks attached to them. a "A big, red-headed British man-o'war's man picked up one of the flags '4 and deliberately dipped it into his mug f of beer and. swashed it around in the * malt liquor. Then he tossed it onto 1 the saw-dusted floor at his feet and < ' stepped on it. a "Only one man among the American * sailors saw this move. The one man r was a soft-voiced bo'sun's mate who a had never been known on board ship v to set into a heat about anything, no P matter how the luck zephyred his way. 1 He strolled over to where the British z tar was standing, and stooped and picked up the crushed, soggy, saw- P dusted Hag. Taking the stick of the r soiled Hag between his forefinger and * thumb the bo'sun's mate held it out ll to the red-headed British flat-foot * with a smile?but as queer a smile as v ever I saw on a sailorman's face. " 'This is yours' said the bo'sun's a mate to the Britisher. " 'Blolme me, Hi b'lleve not,' replied e the red-head. s "Out of the bosom of his mustering 11 shirt the bo'sun's mate snatched a a dirk?not a ship's knife, but a dirk? J with a seven-Inch blade. He put the 13 point of It to the Britisher's throat, ? and with his left he extended the soil- ^ ed little Hag. '' "'You're going to eat it. you swab!' v lie let out with a roar. 1 "The Britisher started to open his 1 mouth?his jaw was hanging low with surprise, anyhow. The bo'sun's '* mate suddenly thrust the floor-stained ll Hag into the Hat-foot's mouth, and the 0 latter's jaws involuntarily closed with e a snap. "Chew it. y' beach-comber!' said the t bo'sun's mate, and he pressed the point j of tiie dirk against the red throat of -1 the Rule-Britannia deep-sea man. P "The rest of the American men-o'war's men were standing at a crouch e to see that the other British tars a didn't do anything to help their insulting mate out of the hole. He looked j around helplessly, and the dirk point a pressed harder against his Adam's U apple. He chewed the llag and swallowed it. Then the bo'sun's mate thrust his knife back into his bosom c and knocked the English sailor who P had sozzled the flag in the beer level with the lioor. That was the begin- ti ning of it. The buttle raged all over t' Honolulu front that moment until sun- ^ rise on the morning of July 5. and by that time most of the Wild Swan'e F :rew had taken the swim for It back o their ship for the surgeon's attenlon, or had sloped for the Punchbowl t ir the Nuuanu Valley, back of the own. About a week later we heard hat some sallorman over on the Wild n 'wan had to be operated on by the tl n ltd awan s nociur iur appvuuiuiiia. u Xe believe?I hate to say it, but we ii ioped?that the bucko who went un- ti ler the knife for appendicitis was the i< ellow who had been forced at the c lirk's point to make a meal of that e Ittle American flag."?Washington e >09t. ri I THE ELEPHANTS REVENGE. F c iettled Grudge Against Dog After Five e Years. n "Tody" Hamilton, the famous press gent of the one-and-only-greatest- a how-on-earth, was in Washington re- h ently on his way to arrange for the n urn of the circus to the winter quar- e prs nnrl an mlo-hf hflVA h??en exneet- d d, he was "there" with a story. f< "Before we took the show to Europe F Ive years ago," he said "we'd been f< Isiting Memphis every year for four p ears. On the route from the railroad E tation to the circus grounds In Mem- fi his there's a well, situated next to a b ence In a yard alongside a little gro- a ery store, at which we always water s he big animals on our way to the b xounds from the train, paying the g wner of the well for the privilege, tl Vhen we used to use the well for this is impose, ihe keepers of the big anlnals were annoyed by a miserable lit- o le tike of a spaniel, a dog beloging to II he groceryman?one of the kind of dogs p hat runs, barking, after passing horses h ,nd tries to nibble at their hocks. 'he fool dog used to persist in edging F p behind the animals when they were s ieing watered at the well, and barking h t their rears, and taking exasperating w ool bites of their hind feet. e "Time and again the keepers lifted o he kl-yl on the toes of their boots, but f< e ulwavs returned to keep up his Iritatlon of the big animals, especially w he elephants, in spite of all efforts tl o shoo him off. t< "The dog's game made one of the a lephants, a big Asian, with tender L eet. particularly sore. All elephants tl re finical about having their feet g ouched, but when a circus elephant's ci eet become cobble-sore he gets to be g s cranky about having them touched r even menaced as a pretty girl with b soft corn after returning from a tea w arty to which she's worn a tight o oot. a "This old tusker from the Himalaya b ountry began to try and kick the ? panlel to death the first year we visit- tl d Memphis, but the dog always got si way from him. During those last 1< hree years before we went to Europe he elephant, every time we approachd that well, recognized It Instantly, and bsolutely refused to go up to It or to 7 nriK. un dccuuui ui mc amiujii>^ avIons of the poodle. He'd stand in the niddle of the road and swish his trunk n nd bestow malevolent glares upon the tl Ittle devil of a prancing, barking, nib- p ling dog, which would be busily en- w aged In biting at the thirsty animals, li lut the elephant never managed to land h lm, much to the regret of the exas- o erated animal keepers. f< "Well, when we got to Memphis this w ear, after the absence of five years, re had the same old elephant, the head h f the herd by this time, along with us, ji nd he was very 'musth,' as the ele- p hant men say when the pachyderms o re out of tune with themselves and the rorld. Remembering that imbecile dog h t the well, the head elephant man sent tord ahead to the groceryman to re- c uest him to get the dog under cover, f< or fear that the elephant would get on he rampage and do some damage. II "he boss elephant man wasn't, of q ourse, sure that the spaniel was still p live, but he wanted to make sure, h Veil, the fool dog was still alive, all y lght, but the groceryman only laughed 0 t the request, as was found when the J< rell was reached with the pack of ele- h hants, camels, bison, and so on. The og, looking pretty old and gray-muz- h led. but still a fool, for all of his hav- g rig reached the years of discretion, was o rancing around In the middle of the oad. waiting to begin his old tricks, tl n spite of all the efforts of the keepers s< o hoist the mutt, he ran in and out beween the 'legs of the herd of elephants o rhen they went up to the well, gnaw- f< ig on their legs and then hopping y way and baricing luriousiy. .1 "Then the old Asiatic elephant show- ri d the kind of memory he had. He p food in the middle of the road, trumeting and watching the dog's performing for a few minutes. Then he sud- G enly piped down his trumpeting and s egan to nudge himself in the direction cl f the well so stealthily and quietly that e was going on his tip toes. When he " ad got to the rear of the elephant that si ,as being watered at the well he sud- ii enly shot out his trur* *?nd grabbed he yelping dog around the middle. a "He raised the ki-yi his trunk's ?ngth in the air and then dashed him G 0 the ground with a thud. Then the n Id elephant jumped forward and danc- a d the life out of the spaniel. h "Not content with this, he picked up a he dead dog, with his trunk, and, b umplng over the well, threw the dead G og down into it. After pulling a cou- 0 le of boards off the well frame and h hrowing them down into the well on w op of the dead dog, the elephant heav- v d a sort of happy, i've-got-hunk sigh, t! nd looked perfectly satistted. "He got over being 'musth' very soon g fter that, as if the killing of that fool ,, og had placated him and brought him round. We dug up a ten spot to the sl rocer to square him for the loss or rne og, and one of the acrobats slid down e, uto the well and brought the dog out. "I've known for thirty years, of ourse, what kind of memories ele- 11 hunts have, but that old Asian tuskr's feat of carrying the memory of that oolish Memphis spaniel in his mind for he live years that we'd been away C rom Memphis and batting around two si ontlnents was abo tuas remarkable a jj hing of the kind as I ever met up with i the circus business."?Washington s< 'ost. 'I PANAMA'8 WATER WAY. lativas Think Thara la a Channal Across tha Peninsula. It Is interesting to notice how every ative of the country will tell you that here is a natural water way across he isthmus. This tradition is found i the earliest literature of the counry, and not only do the Spanish stores and poems of the seventeenth entury abound In allusion to it, but tale papers and official correspond nee make mention of It. The most emarkable instance is in a report of )on Dionlcio Alcedo, governor of 'onama, which is dated 1743. In this ommunication, speaking of the Rlvr Mandlnga, which was the former urre of th& Atrato, the governor says: "It rises in the mountains of Chepo nd runs eastward some four and a alf leagues, to the Atlantic. The avigation of this river is very proprly prohibited under the pain of eath, owing to the facility it affords nr passing from the Atlantic to the 'aciflc oceans. This passage was efscted in the year 1679 by the archi rates, Juan Quartern, Eduardo llomar and Bartolome Carpes. These reebooters were tried for their crimes y audience of the vice royalty, and s they could not be had in person to uffer the just punishment, they were urned in effigy at Sante Fe de Boot a, while they were yet ravaging lie settlement on both sides of the ithmus." As late as 1874 there was a revival 1 tuis misty tituiiuuu uy a uiauivyvian crank named Gorgoza. He appeared at Bogota and represented Imself as the head of a syndicate for the exploration of the Isthmus of 'anama, with a view of opening a hip canal across It" He said that he ad traveled this natural water way lth two companions, but when pressd for their names he said that one f them was dead and that he had argotten the name of the other. He Anally got his concession and ent to Paris in 1876 and a year later tie world began to hear of the "Insrnatlonal Geographical Congress" ssembled by Count Ferdinand de ,e9seps. This was the preliminary of tie farcical and packed "Canal Conress" which the French promoter ailed "one of the most daring and igantic swindles of modern times/ But the inhabitants of the Isthmus elieve firmly that there Is & natural aterway across the Isthmus by way f At rato and Tuya Rivers, and they lso believe that the canal will soon e cut, and that when It is that they rill all become rich. In the meantime ley seek their fortune In the lottery, Igns of which are evident In every >callly.?Brooklyn Eagle. IKE BUZZARD! 'he Former Bandit Blind and End* ing Hit Days In a Poorhouse. "Ike" Buzzard of Welsh Mountain otorlety, sits in his invalid chair in ne Berks county almshouse, blind and artially paralyzed, and patiently -aitingr for death to end his suffer ;gs. Despite this, "Ike" says he is as appy as the day is long. Once a man f nerve and daring, who knew no :ar, he is now a nervous, physical reck. Buzzard is forty-seven years old; as spent fifteen years of his life in ill: has been totally blind and partly aralyzed for ten years, and has spent ver three years in the poor house, ie returned there the other day. He ad no alternative when his brother, Abe." was cast into prison on the harge of wholesale chicken stealing, >r "Abe" was his only supporter. "I guess I'm here to stay now," said ie shortly after his return to his old uarters. "No, I won't talk about my ast. It's buried. Besides, it might ave a bad influence on the minds of oung men. It's an old story to many. ?nce I published a book on the sub?ct, and sold every copy. Wish they ad never been circulated. "It's hard to lie down like this after aving led such an active life. But I uess It's for the best. I live for one Meet alone?that of doing good, for vhat doth it profit a man if he gain ,ie whole world and lose his own Jul.' "Of course, I believe Abe Is innocent f this last charge against him. Poor ;llo\\! He took me out of here a ear or so ago to make a home forme. ,nd we did live very happily until this e\s trouble came on him."?Phlladelhia Inquirer. His Aversion for Dixie.?Brig.!en. "Jack" Hayes was an aide on the tair of Gen. Kilpatrick during the Ivil war. When a hand-organ began playing Dixie" the other night he left his eat in front of a local hotel and went lto the house. "Why don't you like 'Dixie?'" asked friend. "On our march to the sea," said feneral Hayes, "we were tearing up a ullroad, building bonfires of the ties nd laying the rails across them until eated redhot and then twisting them bout trees and telegraph poles. A unch of Confederates attacked us. leneral Kilpatrick ordered me to take ut three bands and begin playing, oping to delay the main attack until e had destroyed railroad communi ation. "1 deployed the bands, and they ave the Rebs the finest line of music fiey ever heard. Finally all of them topped. " "Play more patriotic airs,' I orderd. ' 'We don't know any more,' said tie three bandmasters In concert. " 'Well, give 'em 'Dixie,' I said. "The bands played Dixie and those 'onfederates let out the rebel yell and tarted for us and gave us the worst cklng we got on the march to the sa. That's why I don't seepi to like )lxie.'"?Exchange.