' ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^^ l. m. GRIST'S sons, Pubiiihen. } % .Jfamilg Jfrosgaper: ^for the |romotion o)f th$ political, ?otiat. ^grinuMutjal and ?omm?[tial jjntertsts of (he jpeojl?. {TE?nolecent?VANC,!' established 1855. YORK VILLErsrCFRIDAY.JULY 1971907. jsTO. 58. * 1 ? * * 1 - ? ?KIo o rroaf #A?? QAWlfl DWCRTER! V By ETTA "V CHAPTER XVIII. Vengeance. An old-fashioned, imposing: Canadian house, with roomy out-buildings, and a tall iron gateway, on the further side of which ran the post-road to Quebec, with a telegraph wire following its long and lonely track. In the silent ^ garden a tame doe was feeding on the short, sweet turf. Not far away ran a broad river, full of foaming rapids, with the clustered roofs of mills upon its bank. An avenue of tamarack trees, dripping now in a dreary drizzle of rain, led up to the porch. The shutters were closed along the front of the house, and a funeral gloom and stillness reigned about It?Indeed, the mistress qf the mansion had but just been carried forth to her long home, and the 1 shadow of death seemed yet to linger about her late earthly habitation. A woman stood at the Iron gate and : looked over at the sombre entrance of I ^ Tamarack Hall. She was dressed in i black and closely veiled; but her handsome figure betrayed youth and i strength, and two luminous eyes, i like moons, shone through the tissue I that covered her face. ' * "This Is the place," she said to her- 1 self, then went boldly up th? wet ' avenue under the tamaracks, stepped into a porch and raised the brass knocker, A middle-aged servant appeared 1 In answer to the call. "I wish to see < Mr. Fleetwood," said the visitor, in a i low, firm voice. 1 "He is gone to ride with Miss Loftus, i ma'am," said the woman. I The lady in black gave a slight start, i "Beg pardon," she murmured, behind < her veil, "I did not hear the name." "Miss Loftus," repeated the domestic, raising her voice a little. "Mr. Fleet- ' wood's cousin?the young lady that 1 he's going to marry soon." She stood like a graven image. The ; tame doe lifted a gentle head and look- < ed at her with wondering eyes. From i the tall tamaracks the rain dripped < like tears. 1 "Ah. yes?I understand." said the veiled lady. "I have come a long way 1 to see Mr. Fleetwood. My business with him Is of great Importance. Permit me to wait here till he returns. The low, sweet voice won its way to ! the servant's heart. I "Certainly," she said; "Mr. Fleet- < [ wood will soon be back. He's gone < down to the mills on the river. Come J In. The library Is the cheerfulest Just I now, ma'am," beckoning the stranger to a door on one side of the hall. "There was a funeral here last week, and It 1 seems as though the house was full of i it still." 1 "Then Mrs. Fleetwood Is dead?" murmured the veiled visitor. "Yes, ma'am, dead and burled. Of /t/Mieon onmo fHon A A# tho fam VWUI OC J VU iV DUUIC 1I1CUU V* VIIV M??l* lly. Mr. Fleetwood's aunt Is In her room above-stairs. Would you like to have me call her?" "No," answered the other, quickly; "I do not know the family?I do not wish to see any one but Mr. Fleetwood." The servant looked vaguely surprised, but she conducted the visitor into Guy Fleetwood's library, and there left her. It was a handsome room, furnished in oak. Heavy curtains draped the long windows. Family portraits and oaken shelves crowded with books covered the warm-tinted walls. On the tiled hearth a Jovial wood fire was burning away the dampness of the atmosphere. The place had been recentp ly vacated. On a low easy chair?a woman's chair?lay a piece of Kensington needle-work, and on the floor below was a handkerchief of cobweb texture, dropped plainly from some fair hand. Esther Fleetwood, the forsaken bride, 1 flung back her veil and stood for a moment gazing around the apartment. I She was deadly pale, and her black eyes shone like some wild hawk's. This was her husband's home?this I room was his private library?then, to : whom could these feminine trifles belong? With feverish haste she snatched up the handkerchief, faintly scented with heliotrope. In one corner a name was embroidered?"Maud." Her rival?the cousin to whom Guy Fleetwood, according to the statement of his own servant, was about to marry. Great Heaven! Then was she. Esther Hart, his lawful wife, or only the victim of a gross deceit? And if the former how dared he talk, or even think, of marriage with another woman? She sank into a chair?this forsaken girl who had crept by stealth into the home of her husband. A black gulf of Uoubt and despair opened at her feet. Over the mantel hung a portrait of Fleetwood himself. Oh, the handsome blonde face, with the bold eyes and the smiling lips, how it mocked her now, as it looked down from the high wall! Maud, the cousin, held his faithless heart, and she, Esther, was scorned, betrayed, deserted. Ah, would she tamely submit to this great wrong? The fire snapped cheerily on the hearth. Now and then a step went by in me nan uuisiue. ant; wancu mm such patience as she could command, and presently her strained ears caught the sound of approaching wheels. Yes, a carriage, drawn by a pair of handsome Canadian horses, had just turned through the iron gateway?it was moving up the avenue of tamaracks. Quick as lightning Esther Hart darted to the nearest window, and slipped behind the heavy curtain. A sound of feet in the porch, voices in the hall?one too familiar, alas? and the library door flew back, and in swept Maud Loftus, fat and fair, her blonde comeliness set off to the best advantage by decorous mourning. At her heels followed Guy Fleetwood. "I am quite chilled," she exclaimed advancing to the fire with hands outstretched to the warmth; "either by the weather or your moods, Guy. Do you know that you are quite dreadful today? You ought to kiss my hand I Of CftHi V". FIERCE and apologize humbly for all your sins of omission and commission." Never dreaming of the hawk eyes that watched hirn behind the heavy curtain, he bent and lightly touched his lips to the pretty, plump hand out stretched to the fire. He looked very n grave and pale, but not particularly a unhappy. t "I kiss your hand, cousin." he an- n swered, In the light, drawling tone a which the concealed watcher remem- n bered only too well, "and I crave forgiveness for all my sins. In what have t I particularly offended?" E "Oh, you are distrait and gloomy, f and altogether horrid. Guy! I hope " you will not indulge in such freaks of \ temper after we are married. I should g detest a husband of that sort. A wo- s man only has the right to be a creat- r ure of moods. There are wrinkles over p your classic nose?you seem to be lost a In gloomy perplexities. Really, I do ii not know what to make of you." o She tossed off her hat and wraps, a Her black dress made her look exqui- s sitely fair, and her blonde hair, ruffled s Into little, damp curls about her mischievous eyes, gave her a charming, h childish expression. Fleetwood stood on the hearth, looking down at her " with a sombre, unsmiling face. F "Perhaps it is this dark, dreary tl house that affects you so unpleasantly, h Guy," she went on. ,"I feel its uncan- I ny influence myself?Indeed, I am sad- I ly homesick for my dear friend, Mig- h non Vye, and all the delightful people h that I left at Rookwood. When we are t< married you must tear down this an- g :ient barrack and build a nice Queen w \nne villa." ri "Don't be absurd, Maud!" he muttered, biting his lip. She tapped the t< hearth petulantly with her little foot. t< "You address the future partner of your life in a passionately fond way, " jear! Don't be absurd! No, I will not; but I will be honest and bold enough to ask you a few questions, fi First of all, are you in secret trouble?" * "No," he answered sharply; "certainly not!" It "Are you angry with me, Guy?" "No?no." "I fear that your mysteriously ab- w sorbed sojourn at Cinderville was not ?ood for you. I find you greatly 1c changed?Indeed, you are not the same si Cousin Guy that I knew six months T igo. If you are not angry with me, t< .ake me in your arms." o He did so mechanically. ti "Now, do you love me, sir? Can you le take your solemn oath that I am dear- h ir to you than all the rest of the world?" a "Maud! Maud!" si "A direct reply, if you please!" t< "Maud"? o: "No evasion, sir?yes or no." lc "Yes," he answered whimsically, but lc it the same time pushed her straight a sack from him. 11 It was that movement which saved ier life. Both heard a slight sound at y the other end of the room?both turnid simultaneously, and saw the heavy r< curtain flung back from the window, a ind the figure of a woman bursting sut of ambush there, like a comet from tl i cloud. d Nemesis, child of Nox and goddess sf vengeance, whose statue Phidias carved, could "not have worn a grand- s< 3r aspect! Her tragic face was like ?ray stone, her eyes were coats of fire, tl Oh, the fury and the reproach In those "V ?yes! Would Guy Fleetwood ever v forget them, as they transfixed him "i with their accusing gaze. Surely the p spirit of her fierce robber father was s< there! Here was the true daughter of that western outlaw who had never o felt pity or mercy. o "Esther! My God!" cried out Guy e< Fleetwood. a She tore something from beneath ci tier shawl. "Traitor!" she answered. Then there n was a flash, a report, one awful shriek si from Maud Loftus, and Guy Fleetwood tl staggered, and with the blood stream- g Ing down his face fell forward, prone h upon his own hearth, and lay there, motionless." " When the startled servants came h rushing upon the scene, they found Maud Loftus swooniner in the nearest h chair. On the floor lay a silver-mounted revolver, which had once been the property of the light keeper at Porgy e Island. A window facing the garden b stood wide open, but the murderess c was nowhere to be seen. Black Dave's a daughter had avenged her wrongs, and g also made good her escape from Tarn- s arack Hall. h CHAPTER XIX. A New Arrival. 0 Aunt Deb shook the scanty soil of e Porgy Island from her feet, and, leav- n ing the lighthouse tower and the cot- o tage to strangers, moved across the e hungry sea to Cinderville, and took up s her abode in a little cottage that stood v in a straggling by-way of that fishy s hamlet. The first thing she did after t settling herself in this new home was d to plod up to the inn and ask for Es- r ther. The girl was not there. She had \ left the place?gone off alone in the t Barton stage several days before, the l inn folks said. I "Whither?" the old woman asked, r but no one could tell her. v Aunt Deb meandered back to her f new quarters and sat down in loneli- t ness to wait. Day after day passed, I but Esther came not. The old woman, who had grown more scraggy and dolorous than ever, stood In her cottage f door and watched in vain for her lost t niece. e "More than likely she's killed her- i self with that pistol I gave her at the J lighthouse," moaned Aunt Deb. "Mis- I fortunes never come singly, they pour in galloping torrents. Wherever am I c to look for that unhappy child, and eaeh. Concordia Tempest sat In her ;*inderville cottage, sewing by the light >f a kerosene lamp. She had put on a >lack dress In memory of the old lght keeper, and her fox-colored hair vas screwed Into a shrewish knot at he top of her head. "Such a sputtering and muttering as s In that fire tonight!" soliloquized tunt Deb, with a frightened look at ler little stove, wherein a modest blaze lickered, for at this season the Clnlervllle climate was decidedly chilly; such a racketing and bellowing as hat wind makes out on the sea! seems as If 'twas footsteps hurrying his way; or, maybe, Esther's dead, md her speerlt has come back to launt her poor old aunt." She turned up the kerosene lamp lurrtedly, and cast a trembling glance round the room. Aunt Deb was not Imorous by nature, but tonight old memories had got possession of her, nd some sharp pangs of conscience lade her wince. "Oh, gracious goodness!" she coninued. "I did the best I could for Isther always. We've all sinned and alien short?I," bracing up suddenly, no more than another, as I know. Vhat I did for the girl was for her ood. Oh, Lord! that is her ghost, ure!" as a great gust of wind tore ound the cottage, and died away in a lalntive wall upon the beach. At the ame moment came a sound of hurryig feet on the path of cobblestones utslde the house. The door flew open, nd on the threshold, white, awful, pirit-Uke indeed, stood Esther herelf. Aunt Deb in mortal terror, dropped er sewing and fell on her knees. "Lord have mercy!" she screamed. It wasn't I that did It, Esther?'twas 'ather Joe. He planned the whole hing from first to last. I only helped im carry it out. I hope to goodness h'aln't got to answer for his sins! Mdn't we treat you well? Didn't you ave your own way always, and a eadstrone one it was. 'Hark from the jmbs a doleful sound'?'All flesh Is rass,' and 'dust we are, unto dust e"? Now, look here, Esther, Is it eally you, or only your ghost?" The apparition on the threshold en?red quickly, and closed the door afjr her. "It Is I, myself," she answered. Have you gone crazy. Aunt Deb?" Aunt Deb arose In some confusion. "For pity's sake, where do you come rom, Esther Hart?" she cried. "Canada," answered Esther. "And what have you been doing this ist fortnight?" "Hiding." "Hiding!" gasped Aunt Deb; "from hat?" "The officers of the law." The girl >oked around the cottage, but with no [gn of alarm. "I think I am pursued, here was a strange man In the Bar>n stage tonight. He followed me ver the beach. I stopped at the Inn > ask about you?he stopped, also. I ;ft him there, but he will come here? e Is pursuing me?I feel It." Aunt Deb forced her niece down Into chair, and took off her hat and hawk A startling change had come > the girl. In dress, she looked dls rdered, neglected. There were hol>ws under her queenly eyes, and her >vely, tragic face was wasted and [>lorless. All the old symptoms of fe had faded out of It. "Esther Hart, what has happened to ou?" cried Aunt Deb, aghast. "Much?oh, so much!" answered the ^turned wanderer, wearily. "First of 11, he Is dead, and I am a widow." "I don't know as I'm sorry to hear lat," said Aunt Deb. "How did he ie?" "I killed him!" The old woman recoiled with a ;ream. "Lord help us! You don't mean lat, Essie?your mind Is wandering, ou lx>k sick enough to be in bed this ery minute. I'll warrant," soothingly, that you haven't had a bite of supper, oor child. Walt a minute, and I'll get omething ready for you." She ran to her cupboard for a pot f tea, set forth bread and meat and ther eatables upon the table and forcd Esther to partake. The girl did s she was urged, but in a listless, unonscious way. "When I came to think over the latter," quavered Aunt Deb, "I was orry I give you that pistol of gran'her's, Essie! Slch weapons are danerous for women to carry. You might ave shot yourself with It." "I shot him instead," said Esther. I went to Canada to do it?to his own ouse." There was something frightful in er dull, unmoved voice. Aunt Deb jumped nervously. "Don't talk like that, Essie," pleadd the frightened old woman, "I don't elieve it?I won't believe it! You're lean demented. And if anybody comes -looking for you here, they ain't aoing to find you?not if I know myelf." Esther's limp hands fell drearily to er side. "What do I care?" she answered, oarsely; "life is over?happiness is ver. At first I was afraid. I assumd a false name: I hid myself in a nlserable lodging house in the most bscure quarter of Quebec. I pretendd that I was a nursery governess eeking employment. For days I matched the dally newspapers, but, trange to say, found no mention of he murder in them. Then, of a sudlen, all fear left me. I determined to eturn to you boldly. I have had my engeance. Should I live a century, here could be nothing more for me in ife. I am ready to give myself upt wish they would come and take me io\v. He was false, Aunt Deb?he ras going to marry his cousin. I saw ler with him; I heard him tell her hat he loved her. Do you wonder that killed him?" "Oh." cried Aunt Deb, in distraction, "It's just what I expected! One oot on the land and one on the sea, he deceiver, to one thing constant nevr. Hark! there's somebody coming ip the path, as sure as you're born! Cow, where be I going to conceal you, Dsther Hart?" She ran and drew the bolt of the cottage door, but the girl by the table lid not stir or change countenance. "You will not conceal me anywhere, tunt Deb," she answered, listlessly. I shall not move from this room." A heavy step crunched along the obble-stone walk. A loud rap fell on the cottage door, then a hand attempted to push It open. "For the Lord's sake," implored Aunt Deb, In abject terror, "be quick! i There's an oak press In my bedroom, let me lock you into It. They'll hang 1 you if they catch you!" Esther smiled drearily. "A life for a life! That Is Bible law, Aunt Deb?that is as It should be." The knocks on the door redoubled. "Open, inside there!" cried a man's i voice; "open, Concordia Tempest." "Somebody is calling me by name," said Aunt Deb, in amazement. Esther started up from her chair, and, sweeping to the door, threw it back before Aunt Deb could put out a hand to stop her. "Enter!" she cried. In a voice like a bugle! "enter, whoever you may be?I am here!" From the windy darkness a man stepped promptly Into the room?the very person that Esther had seen In the Barton stage?the very person that had followed her over the beach that night to the Cindervllle Inn. He was In the prime of life, tall? handsome, Imposing ? sunburned of face, but as faultless in dress as though he had just emerged from a tailor's shop. " V s "By my soul!" said the stranger, ' looking hard at Esther Hart, "I have , seen this face once before tonight! Thanks for your welcome! I am very . glad you are here, my dear. How d' ye do, Concordia?" advancing suddenly ' tc dumfounded Aunt Deb. and holding \ out his hand; "you haven't changed much In eighteen years?no more haa Clndervllle. Come, don't you know' me?" Something in the ring of that voide ? stirred the chords of memory in hd# | breast. She snatched the kerosene4 . lamp from the table, and lifted it up L to his sunburned face. "Can I believe my eyes?" she said, slowly. "I think you can," he answered. ' "Look again, Concordia. Do you see anything familiar?" "Yes, I do," she replied; "I see Jim^ . Hart come back to us after long yeare ^ ?come back at the minute when we ( needed him most. Esther! Esther!" 1 raising her voice to a shrill scream, "It's no officer of the law, but your ^ own father, from Leadville mlnesl He'll save you?go to him?you're hie own flesh and blood?go to him, I say!* ( She stood for a moment like a stat- ^ ue?she had never known the love or , care of parent In her life. In this fearful crisis, this hour of peril and despair, lo! here was the face of a ^ father looking upon her?the hand of ( a father outstretched to claim her. , With a cry, she cast herself at his feet, and clasped him wildly about the | knees. ' j "Father, father!" she sobbed; "take ( me away?UII, lane me a.nay nucic ? can never, never be found?where no- 1 body that I have ever known will see me more!" 1 To Be Continued. CORBETT-FITZSIMMONS. Culberson, Stuart and the Texas Legislature. It happened In the year 1895 that Mr. James J. Corbett's right to the title of the champion pugilist of the world was disputed by Mr. Robert Fitzslmmons. Dan Stuart, a persuasive and opulent promoter of fistic encounters, a Texan with many friends throughout the state, determined that the contest should be brought off here. Governor Culberson declared that he would prevent it. "But you can't prevent it," came a roaring chorus of thousands of fight connoisseurs. "You can't prevent it. There is no law in the Texas statutes against boxing." Thereupon Governor Culberson sat long over his law books and found that what the followers of the genial Dan Stuart said was only too true. But that served only as a bugle call to action. The governor walked down Main street and stood on a box on the busiest corner. A crowd gathered in stantly. They guessed what was coming, and there were many grins. "Men of Texas," said the governor, "have you thought well of what you are going to do? Do you Intend to allow a prizefight to be held in our 1 state? Are you content to let these men from California and New York say that the law won't let them fight at home, but that they can come down to the rowdy state of Texas and pull off a ring battle? Do you want to have our great state disgraced before the whole civilized world?" All this ' and much more in his most eloquent style, of which these lines give but the palest shadow. The grins vanished from the crowd. "But, look here, governor," a man 1 replied. "There's no disgrace about it. They say they're not breaking any law, because there's no law here against fighting. There ain't any law. is there?" I "No, there isn't," said Governor Culberson, as he turned to step down off the box; "there isn't; but there soon will be." No more was heard from the gover- I nor for several days, and meantime r\t Tovna nnrt all the rest of the country contained columns ' of glowing predictions concerning the greatest battle In the history of the ring. There could be no doubt that public sentiment of the state was largely In favor of allowing the fight to go on. All of which was duly noted by the governor and served only to make him more determined than ever to prevent that which he believed would be a disgrace to the state. On the third day every member of the state and house of representatives of the state of Texas received from the governor a call to attend a special session of the legislature. And such a call! Men's hair curled as they read it. The governor remarked that through some inadvertence no statute existed against fighting In the ring, and that it was the duty of every legislator with a decent regard for the opinion of mankind to hasten to the capital forthwith and enact a proper statute. To fall In this would involve the state and themselves in deepest obloauv. They read. They came. They enacted. And the prizefighting Industry has never been heard of in Texas since.? Harper's Weekly. ? ? *3" The weight of an ordinary train, including the engine, is from 150 to 300 tons. Miscellaneous Scailin.q. ; CAN BUILD MOST WARSHIPS. s c Charles M. Schwab Saya United States 1 Has Greatest Facilities. Charles M. Schwab, says the New York American, voiced his belief yesteiday that there will be no war be- j tween the United States and Japan, deipite the proposed sending1 of an ^ American fleet of nineteen battleships Into Pacific waters. As president of the great Bethlehem shipbuilding plant and maker of armor plate and great guns, his declaration Is of the utmost Importance In the controversy now raging over the prospective display of American sea power In the Orient. Mr. Schwab further made the positive statement that the United States can build five battleships to Japan's one, and that, In the event of war between this country and Japan the United States would be able to build and equip war vessels of all descriptions In faster time than any other nation in the world, England and Germany not excepted. The autocrat of the Bethlehem Steel Company freely discussed the seeming war scare with an American representative in his fine offices In the Trinity building yesterday. He had Just returned from Loretto, his country place in Cambria county, after having completed a trip to ( San Francisco. While there he was r In a position to Judge the temperament t of the Callfornlans toward the Japan- e Bse. jHls personal business in San Franclaco had to do with the arrangements toy the permanent shut-down of the I ahlobuildlne nlant of the Union Iron 5)rks, which is controlled by the thlehem Steel corporation. t! "I am convinced that there will be n no war between the United States and p Japan," said Mr. Schwab, In his most r earnest manner. At least, the Inltla- 11 Uve will never be taken by Japan. I n make this assertion from the stand- e point of a practical business man and a builder of war vessels and armored o equipment. Japan can not afford to e war with us. a "The United States Is easily able to h build and equip five battleships while Japan Is finishing' one. That percent- is age might even be increased In the n eventuality of war. The resources of h this country are practically limitless a when the urgency of necessity arises. "I am confident that Japan Is fully S alive to the consciousness of her in- a ability to cope with us in the build- IIng of armored ships. Even now Japan y 1 understand contracts for all armor b plate and guns of large calibre from is English, Dutch and German firms, a That is where the United States would v be at a tremendous advantage as the necessity required. J "Personally, I cannot see that the ri ^ending of the nineteen battleships to p tfce Pacific can be construed in any a manner- o c O mona/<0 tO .Tatian. ThlS J mighty fleet will serve merely to em- tl phaslze the well-worn axiom that tl peace is best assured In the heaviest irmaments. * w "Should the United States ever again 11 become Involved In war, I feel perfect- d ly confident In declaring that Amerl- w ean built battleships, fitted out with C American armor plate and American f< ?uns and manned by American tars, o ean hold their own with any navy In n the world." r< Mr. Schwab was asked If It was not a true that there was a feeling of deepseated bitterness In California against f< the Japanese. ri "There unquestionably Is an anti- a Japanese sentiment In California, and a especially In San Francisco," he re- p piled, "but I can never believe that a this animosity will result In any serijus complications between Japan and o the: United States. b "The United States is not going to b seek war and Japan has no desire to e enter Into another costly struggle with i great power. Personally, I can see b no signs of anything more than a mid- b summer war scare to relieve the te- d Jlum of the news." tl e MAY AWAIT CRISIS. b Suspicion That Order to Pacific Has * Been Effective. P A Washington dispatch to the b Brooklyn Eagle says: ^ . Y\ "It would occasion no great surprise to well-informed naval officers If the Atlantic fleet were not to undertake the spectacular trip around the Horn I1 and Into the Pacific after all. A sus- h plclon is growing that the adminlstra- a tion had accomplished the purpose it ? had In mind in stating that the expe- ^ dition would sali, and that unless a crisis should develop in our relations M with Japan the fleet will probably ma- n neuver in Atlantic waters, as usual. A this winter. ' It was the original intention of the P general board, which planned the en- fl tire maneuver, to have the fleet sail " late In August, or as soon as all the 8 war ships had been put In good condi- u tion at the navy yards. The latest of- 0 flcial announcement on the subject was that the usual target practice C would be held in the late summer, and ti then the armada, under Admiral Evans would start on its long journey. Xo f< definite day was set for the fleet to move. This leaves the whole thing A open for further vague announce- F ments regarding the departure. si "The administration has paved the tl way for dispatching the fleet to the P Pacific at any time In the future without furnishing an excuse for a sensation," said a high naval officer. "If a the present differences between the n United States and Japan should be g smoothed out and the Jingo talk die away, it is doubtful whether the fleet li will be sent on the long and expensive fi journey to the Pacific. The trip was g planned because of the ugly Japanese ii situation, which had many elements w of danger in it. That is the absolute s fact, all talk to the contrary notwith- T standing. With the removal of these o danger signs there will be no neces- d sity for the expedition. s, "On the other hand, should the dip- c lomatic relations continue strained and a crisis approach, the department n could Issue orders for the transfer of ^ the fleet to the Pacific and then say o that the act was in line with the policy tl announced on July 4, I think the policy of the administration has been '( exceedingly wise in spite of the public C criticism. The announced intention to Jj, send the fleet around the Horn may |f never be carried out, but it is on rec- s >rd as an Insurance against trouble 1 n the future." In connection with the threat to E tend Admiral Evans's fleet to the Pa:lflc It Is recalled that the navy demrtment once before had occasion to ii nake a big bluff of this kind to avert f in attack from a hostile fleet. It was s luring the war with Spain, shortly / ifter Admiral Dewey had captured t Manila, and was in more or less of a v lcklish position, because of being so li ar from the main portion of the n American fleet. h Qr\nln Vi a A nnn nr twn hn 11 IoqYi I n? i< lear completion and hurried them Into I r lervice. Admiral Camera was given li command of the little squadron, with p trders to proceed at once to Manila ind attack Dewey. As Dewey had no I >attleships much concern was manl- a ested when the Spanish vessels got I inder way and started for the Phil- t pplnes. c One day Admiral Crownlnshleld, h vho was then chief of the bureau of e lavigation of the navy department, h acked up the following announce- n nent on the department bulletin: "If n Ldmiral Camera's fleet passes through t he Suez canal en route to the Phlllpdnes, a fleet of American vessels will g .t once sail for Spain and attack the s ipanish coast." The department was p n position to spare ships for an expe- t litlon of this kind, because Admiral r 'ervera had not yet been accounted v or. But the bluff worked perfectly, v Camera's fleet was stopped at the n nouth of the Suez, and after loafing h here several weeks, turned and steam- t d back to Spain. v CHOSEN AFTER REJECTION. p 8 nteresting Adventures of Some Fa- b mous Books. v There used to be an old superstition e hat a flash of lightning would turn illk sour. This Is the sort of effect tl roduced upon a young author by the n ejection of a manuscript by a pub- e sher. As the author becomes older, a lore successful, and more experi- g need, such rejections do not dlscour- a ge him, and If he sighs at all on these d ccasions the sigh Is one of commls- o ration for the publisher who cannot ppreclate a really good thing when o e sees it. ' The owner of a rejected manuscript 8 i In good company, for many of the " lore celebrated works of literature P ave been summarily returned to their s uthors by unappreciatlve publishers, a Few books published In the United c tates ha\ . yielded to their publishers b nd authors larger returns than "Ben b lur," by the late Lew Wallace, and ? et the manuscript had been rejected '< y nearly every first-class publisher l this country before it finally was 81 ccepted by the Harpers, to whom It as submitted for the second time. a "Rejected Addresses" by Horace and b ames Smith, was offered to Mr. Muray for twenty pounds, but refused. A w ublisher, however, purchased it, and, n fter sixteen editions, Mr. Murray gave 1131 for the right to Issue a new edi- ^ Ion. The total amount received by lie authors was more than ?1,000. lc ' Tana Pvro " hv Phnrlnttp Rrontft. b as, it is said, rejected by several pub- ^ shers. This, however, is rather p oubtful. We believe the manuscript " as sent to Messrs. Smith. Elder & 'o., in Cornhlll, and there It remained p :>r a long time, till a daughter of one * f the publishers read it and recomlended her father to publish It. The e esult is well known. It brought the r uthor fame and money. J "Eothen," by Mr. KInglake, was of?red to twenty different houses. All efused it. He then, in a fit of desper01 tion, gave the manuscript to an ob- ^ cure bookseller and found the exCI enses of publication himself. This ^ Iso proved a success. "Vanity Fair," that very clever work f Thackeray's, was written for Col- b urn's Magazine, but it was refused d y the publishers as having no inter- . st. t] "The history of Ferdinand and Isa- b ella," by Mr. Prescott, was rejected t| y two of the first publishers in Lonon, and it ultimately appeared under he auspices of Mr. Bentley, who statd that it had more success than any b ook he had ever published. The author of "The Diary of a Late t| frtt. o lonor flma armorht a . 11 > nitiau lvji a iuiift nine ?wuq..% ubllsher, and unsuccessfully. At last c e gave the manuscript to Blackwood's w lagazine, where It first appeared and n as very successful. n The first volume of Hans Andersen's ^ Fairy Tales" was rejected by every c ubllsher In Copenhagen. Andersen e ad then neither name nor popularity. nd published this exquisite book at his e wn expense, a proceeding which soon 0 rought him into notoriety. b Miss Jane Austen's novels, models of v riting at this day, at first met with a 0 success. One of them, "Northanger ^ .bbey," was purchased by a publisher -j 1 Bath for ten pounds, who, after tl aying this sum, was afraid to risk any tl iirther money In its publication, and n remained many years in his posses- tl Ion before he ventured upon the spec- p lation, which, to his surprise, turned o ut very profitable. When the poet Gray's "Ode on Eton a ollege" appeared but little notice was s< iken of it. tl The poet Shelley had always to pay I ir the publication of his poems. r< The "Ode on the Death of Sir John si foore at Corunna" was written by n lev. Charles Wolf. 'It was rejected so w cornfully by a leading periodical that b 1e author gave It to an obscure Irish n aper.' tl Modest Chinese.?The following is c literal translation of a Chinese Ink a laker's advertisement, and Is a fairly u ood example of the "puff direct:" "At the shop Tae-shlng (prosperous A 1 the extreme)?very good Ink, fine! o ne! Ancient shop, great-grandfather, g rand father, father and self, make this ji ik; fine and hard, very hard; picked 1< ith care, selected with attention. I o ell very good Ink, prime cost Is very, ci 'his Ink Is heavy; so Is gold. The eye it f the dragon glitters and dazzles, so u oes this ink. No one makes like It. tl >thers who make ink make it for the . ake of accumulating base coin and J heat, while I make It only for a name. P "Plenty of A-Kwan-tsaes (gentle- h len) know my Ink?my family nev- ^ r cheated?they have always borne a . ood name. I make Ink for the 'Son D f Heaven' and all the mandarins in ci lie empire. f< "As the roar of the tiger extends to very place, so does the fame of the Iragon's jewel' (meaning nis inK.j w lome, all A-Kwan-tsaes (gentlemen), \\ ome to my shop and see the sign t, 'ae-shing at the side of the door. It i Seaon-shwuy street (small water treet), outside the south gate." HE SOLDIEK Uht sincnuuuo. [very Man For Himsolf In the Countries to the 8outh. "Taking It all In all, I believe that f. I possessed any sort of hankering or the martial life, I wouldn't do my oldlering either In Central or South Lmerica," observed Milton Blumenlerg. official reporter of the senate, yho has spent a number of summers n the Latin-American countries. "Too nany peculiar things are liable to tappen to the Central or South Amercan buck soldier. It isn't in the least lecessary for him to face the enemy n order to gain his free and sudden >assage over the big divide. "I'm not naming any countries, for have occasional little business transactions in quite a number of them, lut while in one of the main garrison owns of one of the Latin-American ountries a couple of summers ago I leard from the American consul an ngaging story of a little incident that lad happened there a few days before iy arrival. One of this republic's binonthly revolutions was on at the Ime, I should add. "A recruit serving in one of the overnment regiments at the garrison kinned his whole outfit at cards one iay day. There was no knowledge on he part of the skinned ones that the ecrult hadn't been perfectly square /Ith his game but, nevertheless, he b'as regarded as being a whole lot too nonte-wise for a recruit, and, anyiow. he had corralled all the money in he layout, which was bad enough without any crookedness. "Being a recruit, this young soldier erson didn't know enough to undertand that, having got by with the Ig cleanup of his comrade's sliver, It van his cue to disappear. So he stayd along. "The better to thwart the plans of he revolutionary army, the governlent troops were stationed on a platau overlooking the town. There was lull In the hostilities while the Insurants were reorganizing themselves, nd so to keep the government soliers busy and tuned up they pulled ft a sham battle. "The recruit who had displayed all f the money-getting monte wisdom, rent down with the first rattle of the uns of his company. I was told that : took some six and several men to Ick up the punctured, not co say leved, rookie up from the ground nd place him on a stretcher, the poor uss was so heavy with the lead that ad been poked into his system by his rothers-in-arms. Every man In his utfit had, apparently, handed him at ;ast one pellet. "Hearing this story led me to make ome inquiries, and I found out that 1 'Jl- ?~ T A morlnan tie suiuiera ui me uuuu-nuici^u.. rmles like a whole number of things etter than they do these sham batles. It is so easy, you see, for Jose, rho has a bit of a grudge against Ralon, to make a mistake, so to speak, 3 slip a ball cartridge instead of a lank into his gun! I was told that be soldiers down that way will do a >t of things to get their names on the ospital report or sick list when they ear that a sham battle is going to be >ulled off, especially those soldiers 'ho have good reason to apprehend bat they're scheduled to stand for a lugging from the rear. The mere nnouncement of an approaching bam battle starts an epidemic of scintiflc malingering in one of the garIsons. And when the desperate ones an't make the sick list they Jump beir outfits in squads, platoons and attalions. "Oh, yes, after the blanks are servd out for a sham battle the cartridge oxes of the soldiers are of course arefully Inspected. There was a time -hen disliked officers used to attend 3 this inspecting part of it in a perunctory manner, but they get real usy at it now, I understand. The Isliked officers grew exceedingly careul in their inspections of the carridge boxes when a whole lot of them ecame the victims of 'mistakes' on be part of their men. They not only eeked into the cartridge boxes, but bey pawed around In the clothing of ach man to spring any thoughtlessly id den ball cartridges. "When they first began to do this hey made a lot of hauls, and the fel>ws with the secreted bullets were Inontinently stood up before the walls rith bandages before their eyes and lade sieves of. Then the forgetful len in the ranks learned wisdom, 'hey no longer tried to hide the ball artrldges, meant for their officers or nemles in the ranks, In their clothig, but salted them away and covred them up with the dirt of the field n which the sham encounter was ooked to take place. They made eritable lead mines of these fields, nd each man remembered Just where e had planted his little lead cache, hen, In the middle of the sham acion, all they had to do was to give he ground a kick where they had lade their plants, stoop and pick up he ball cartridges, and then calmly ush their bosom friends or the hated tficers over the rim of the next world. "Of course the officers learned bout this one, too, and they met the :heme by changing the location of he sham battle at the last moment, myself saw this done once. It was eally touching to observe the exprea[ons of acute chagrin on the counteances of the little barefoot soldiers 'hen, after they had cached their ullets all so handily In the field anounced as the scene of the sham bate, the word ran around that another pot for the mock encounter had been hosen. They looked as If a mean nd underhand trick had been played pon them. "A military prisoner, too. in a Latlnmerlcan army, is generally badly out f luck when he Is put under the uard of an enemy. Often as not he's jst as good as a dead man, or, at ;ast a sorely bruised and battered ne, when that thing happens. It osts as much to keep and feed a milary prisoner as it does a soldier in niform, and so when these little tings occur the Investigation is merer Derfunctory. The sentry kills his rlsoner, with bayonet or ball. If he as It in for that prisoner, and when e reports that he put It on the man eeause he was trying to make his esape, It's all right?the sentry's word >r It Is taken, and nothing further i done. I was not far away a couple f summers ago, from a garrison In hlch something of this sort, but lrned around in a way, too, came, rr. "A sentry took his enemy, a prison cr, WIIU, UC1VIC Jlio ?i ? vov ftWi minor Infraction of discipline, had shared the favors of the girl with whom the sentry was In love, out to work In a gravel pit. It was the sentry's first guard-whack at the prisoner, and the prisoner must have understood very well that he was standing a swell chance to fall down in that gravel pit and not get up any more, i "But the prisoner's brother, also a soldier at the garrison, perceived the possibilities of this situation, too. So he chased himsell over to the gravel pit and placed himself behind a rock. "When the sentry got to the gravel pit with the prisoner the brother was able to make his presence known to the prisoner without putting the sentry wise to it. The sentry followed his former rival into the gravel pit. "He was just about to get busy with his bayonet on the frame of the helpless prisoner when the latter's brother, from above, pushed a boulder weighing about four tons down on him. "That fixed things all right. The i devoted brother scrawled a note, In Spanish, which he pinned to what was left uncovered of the tunic of the crushed and purely fragmentary sentry. The note stated, In essence, that the writer, becoming aware of the dei ceased sentry's design on the prisoner > had beat him to It. Then the pair of i devoted brothers took to the moun> tains and they were briganding it at a great rate and getting away with It when I quit the country. i "Taking it altogether, as I say, I believe I wouldn't care to be a soldier In one of these frljole and chile-concarne armies where there's always a i 16 to 1 bigger chance of your getting plugged by your own bosom swaddles than by the fowling pieces of the enemy."?Washington Star. THE REAL FIR8T FAMILIES. i They Are Made Known by Publication of the Census of 1790. Genealogists will be interested in the announcement from the director of the United States census that pamphlets are now in press containing lists of the names of all heads of families in the states of Vermont, New Hampshire and Maryland at the date of the first census, 1790. These pamphlets, of about 150 pages for each state, are sold separately by the director of the census, Washington, D. C., at $1 each. These lists have never been published before. A summary of the census was published in 1791 in a volume of fifty-six pages. The original schedules were preserved in Washington until the burning of the Capitol by the British soldiers. In that fire the returns of Delaware, Georgia, Kentucky, New Jersey, Tennessee and Virginia were destroyed. On account of the numerous requests for information addressed to the census bureau it seemed best to print these early schedules . for the first time. The appropriation for the printing of the census bureau for the year 1907 was not large enough to permit the publication of more than three states lists. It is hoped, says the Chicago Tribune, that the next congress will appropriate money enough to permit the lists of heads of families in Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New* York, Pennsylvania and the Carolinas to be published. The first census report filled 65 pages, the twelfth fills 10,400 pages, each as large as several pages of the first report In 1790 Philadelphia was the capital of the United States and had 28.522 inhabitants. New York was the largest city, with 33,131 inhabitants. The "Federal City" was planned in part, but not yet built and not yet named. Chicago did not exist. There were in the United States about 640,000 heads of families. The records of 140,000 of these names have been destroyed. The lists about to be published contain about one-third of the rest. In 1790, the first four states in population were, in the order named, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, North Carolina. Male whites outnumbered female whites in every state except Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut. Maine, Massachusetts and Vermont alone, had no slaves, although by a printer's blunder Vermont was credited with sixteen. The entire cost of the first census was $44,377. A substantial public demand for these lists will give moral support to the demand for the publication of th9 remaining lists. These are the official rolls of the real first families of the republic. Reverence For Age. Therr Is an old story which Illustrates ihe reverence which the ancients felt for old age. Into one of the greatest amphitheatres of Greece, filled to the gates with a throng assembled to witness the athletic games so popular in those days, an aged man went one day. Every seat was taken. One hundred Athenian boys sat on one side; as many Spartan youths sat on the other side. Seeing the old man, the Athenian boys, true to their instruction, rose and uncovered their heads, but not one went so far as to olter his place to the aged man. He turned toward the Spartan side. All rose and, bowing low, each proffered his seat, whereupon the Athenian lads broke out in prolonged applause. The old man paused, smiled, and bowing, said: "The Athenian knows what reverence for old age Is; the Spartans show that reverence." Is it not true that many of us are a little slow In extending that respect to old age which we know belongs to It? It Is so easy, it may be, to pass the aged by without a word of greeting, but how much such a word means to them! A little more thoughtfulness, a little greater regard for the sensitive nature of those in advanced life, a little kindly effort In their behalf, and the world would be both nappier and better.?Catholic Sentinel. tr Artists are subject to color blindness as other men, says Edward A. Ayers In the Century. The writer has tested the color sense of a large number of them?colorlsts, engravers, Illustrators?and found an average of one in 22 color blind. As a class they are quicker to recognize varying shades, but a green blind artist will place a brown skein of worsted with the green as readily as a layman. The possession of an "artistic temperament" bears no other relation to the iroonasa of ono's color sense than comes from close observation and use of color. If an artist's eyes at birth do not possess all color-seeing cones In his retina he cannot develop them by cultivation.