'
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 <j
what sort of an account am I to give
of her to Jim Hart, her father?" ;
One week and then another passed "
away. It was a threatening night in
early autumn. The wind swept in wild c
rusts over the sea, and the salt waves
aced wrathfully up and down the
>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.