=ggg=g!!8 'ssssmB-^^^ssBSsm^||| ^ ^^^gB^g^gB^=g!!ggg!g ISSUED SSMX-WEEKLT. l. u. grist's sons, Pubiiiter.. } % ^familQ Kttrsjajtr: Jfor It was Charlie Sherwood, who, un- '< perceived by either, had entered the room a few moments before, and now thought it was quite time to interfere. "Here, now," he said, roughly, glar- 1 Ing with angry eyes at the man who had tried to appropriate what the 1 young lieutenant had come to consider . his own property, "haven't you said 1 about enough? Or, If you haven't yoq'd better fire ofT the rest outside." I Higgs drew back in alarm. In spite 1 of his recent boast of his extraordi- ' nary muscles, the easterner had too I much consideration for his precious 1 skin to risk a personal encounter. 1 He hemmed and hawed, and then to his surprise as well as that of his ri- ' val, a champion came to his rescue. ' "Charlie Sherwood, how dare you?" 1 It was Dorothy who uttered tnls ' ejaculation, and she was genuinely ' ? * K/vHnnl # milf a nnmno. 3 il 11(51 y OllC iril 1IC1 OCIL 4uuc VVIM|^V tent to manage her own affairs, and ' was not disposed to brook any Inter- 1 ference. "I thought you above spying." she 1 went on. scornfully. "Spying?" cried Charlie, Indignantly. J "Oh, If I've intruded " ' & He paused, and as Dorothy simply 1 shrugged her shoulders, as much as to 1 say that he certainly had, he strode away toward the door. ' Hlggs, with a grin of satisfaction, followed, but with excessive care to ' keep at a safe distance. 1 "Yes, sir," he said, aggravatingly, "you'd better retire. When a gentle- i man Is proposing to a lady, a third > party Is quite out of place." Charlie turned so suddenly and vl- ' clously that Hlggs Jumped back. "This gentleman has not received his 1 answer yet, Lieutenant Sherwood," ' said Dorothy, with dignity, "and as < that answer cannot possibly concern you, why " "I'd better go." "Exactly." "Miss Dunbar." said Charlie, with 1 suppressed rage, "please consider ev- 1 thythlng at an end between us. As for your pet there," glaring at Hlggs, "I'll wait for him outside." 1 ? And he flung himself out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The angry light died away from Dor- 1 othy's eyes, and her rosy Hps pouted like those of a hurt child. ' But Hlggs was in ecstasies. He fancied that he now had a complete walk- 1 over, as he expressed It to himself. ' Approaching Dorothy, he said, in an insinuating and would-be tender 1 manner: "Look up. sweet one; we are alone!" 1 Dorothy flung up her head. "Get out!" she cried, sharply. 1 The words were undoubtedly exces- i slvely unladylike, but they expressed 1 exactly what she meant. 1 "Eh?" muttered Hlggs. starting 1 back In surprise. "Get out!" she repeated, still more testily. "I hate you!"' Poor Hlggs drew himself up with an 1 attempt at offended dignity. "Miss Dunbar, you have been tri- 1 fling with my feelings." "Just see what you've done to mine." with a half sob. "Charlie says It's all over between us!" 1 "So, then, you are engaged to the < lieutenant?" "We?we?were just going to be," 1 she replied, with a sob which this time ' was quite apparent. "But now he'll never ask me." "Ah. I see how it is!" exclaimed Higgs. his face scarlet with mortifica- ' tlon. "You've been using me as a 1 stuffed club to larrup him Into line." Dorothy, at the end of her sentence, ' dashed away the tears which were beginning to gather in her eyes. j * Lights* C AMERICAN DRAMA. )N BY A. D. HALL. "Oh. I do wish you'd go away!" stamping her foot. "I will!" replied H4ggs, tragically. "You Imve lost us both! You have broken my heart! If there's a spare horse In camp, I'll buy it and ride out to my death! Farewell!" He pulled the door open, but suddenly Jumped back, and closed It even more abruptly. He had seen the lieutenant pacing restlessly to and fro In front of the veranda, and evidently doing what he ? #nr Him nau llireuicucu IU uu, naiiiuB IV> ....... and that with hostile Intent. Thoroughly scared. Higga remembered that there was a back entrance to the house, which led Into the kitchen. Thinking only of escape, he rushed past Dorothy, paving no attention to her surprised question as to what was the matter, and fled Into the kitchen. Dorothy looked after him In amazement, but only for a moment. After all, his vagaries were nothing to her. By her own folly she had lost the one man she cared for. With a choking In her throat and a desperate pain at her heart, she fled to her own room, there to Indulge in the luxury of a good cry. CHAPTER VIII. Id Love's Crucible. It was later the same evening. That most peaceful hour of the whole day, the hour between twilight and daj*k ness, as Helen Dare and Dan Morion came slowly along: side by side, on their way from the hospital. Helen had been there to Inquire for the* wounded prisoner, and also to take a note from Florence Sherwood to Swlftwlnd; a note which Florence had exhibited the most intense anxiety to have delivered without delay. Helen had been only too glad to oblige the unfortunate young woman, for whom she felt not only the deepest sympathy, but a warm affection as well. She was so helpless and so unhappy. As Miss Dare left the hospital she found the scout, Dan Horton, loitering outside, and just a faint color tinged the delicate oval of her cheek as she caught sight of him. It was no new thing for her to meet him when she left the house, either on an errand, or to obtain the fresh air, and unconsciously, of late, she had come to look forward to these encounters. She believed them to be pure chance, but Horton could undoubtedly have told another tale. In spite of the vastly different lives they had led, there were many subjects on which the two were strangely sympathetic, and they had become very good friends. Friends? Well, perhaps friendship is the right word to describe the sentiment which Miss Dare felt for the handsome scout, but It is certain that his feeling for her was rapidly developing Into something much stronger. It Is only fair to Helen Dare to say that If she had suspected this she ^ would have stopped all intercourse oe- j tween them at once. But such a thought had up to this time never entered her head. She only realized that j she liked him very much, better than | any other man at Fort Terry, and that It was very pleasant to talk to him. "Do all women take their first proposals so lightly, Miss Dare?" asked I Horton, continuing their conversation. ' Helen had been telling him about Hlgg* 1 sbsurb proposal which Dorothy had Imparted to her, with no promise whatever of secrecy. ' "She is but a child, Mr. Horton," 1 replied Helen, deprecatlngly. ' Horton looked at her, a strange, in- 1 tense expression upon his bronzed 1 face. 1 "Women are but girls," he said, ' slowly, "who have outgrown their < aprons. Hearts should not change." Helen was silent for a moment, her thoughts reverting, and reverting any- l thing but pleasantly, to her own past, i and then she answered, almost as if speaking to herself rather than to the I one who had suggested the words: "We seldom marry our first loves.'1 "Yet," replied Horton, looking at her 1 In a manner which should have be- J trayed him: but which Helen, absorb- I ed In her own thoughts, did not ob- I serve. "And yet, first love Is always best, they say." I "Not always!" was the quick, almost i defiant reponse; and then, suddenly $ remembering herself, she stopped short, hoping that he had drawn no < deductions from either her words or | her manner. < Horton saw that she was embar- \ rassed, and although he was far from divining the cause, at once changed < the subject. "How Is young Gray this evening?" < he asked, abruptly. i "Much better." replied Helen, with j an Inward sigh of relief that the former subject was not to be pursued, < and realizing dimly the consideration ] shown her by this man who was one < of nature's gentlemen. "He was about during the day. His trial takes place | tomorrow, does it not?" 1 "Yes, If he's well enough." I Helen, relieved though she was ffiat < (ho (>nnvprsntinn had taken this new i turn, was really Interested. i "And his father, Colonel Gray," she asked: "what does he say about It?" i Horton hesitated, knowing full well what the result would be, and yet ] hating to confess It to this companion of the gentler sex. At last he spoke, j and spoke frankly: : "Miss Dare. Colonel Gray Is a sol- < dler. and If It's the sentence of the ] court-martial he will see his son led | to execution, without a word." Helen shivered. This was a devotion to duty which she could not un- ] derstand In the least. What woman could? ; "Does he not feel?" she asked, i breathlessly, decidedly revolted. . ( "Soldiers are not supposed to feel," | responded Horton. emphatically. He i understood If she dtd not. "But," wit] perceptible softening, for after all whether male or female, human naturi Is about the same, "Colonel Gray lov ed his son very dearly." "But," spoke Helen, with a catch li her voice, "If found guilty will he real ly be executed?" Again Horton paused before speak' Ing. But, somehow, there was some' thing about this woman that forbad* him to say to her anything but th< truth. "Hardly," he replied, at last. 'It wll more likely be the pyramids." "The pyramids?" repeated Helen with a puzzled contraction of her level brows, not understanding In th( least. "Have you noticed the pile of cannon balls beside the big guns beneath the flag staff?" asked Horton, hating and yet feeling Impelled to give the inrormauon ror wnicn sne sbkcu. "Yes," she replied, wonderlngly. "They are stacked In the shape of pyramids. Say, a prisoner is convicted of desertion. A ball and 'chain is attached to his foot, and he Is placed before a pyramid of those huge cannon balls. One by one he is required to carry them to a spot but a few yards distant and form another pyramid. Then, one by one, he carries them back to the original spot and rebuilds th ... Then, back and forth, back and forth, hour after hour, day after day, living on bread and water and speaking not a word, the sun and the storm beating down upon his head while a guard stands ready to shoot at his head." Helen stopped short as if paralyzed by the picture these words conjured up. It reminded her of the tortures of the middle ages, of which she had read In history. "Oh, horrible!" she murmured, beneath her breath. "Horrible!" repeated Horton, his voice vibrating: with emotion, for once or' twice he had been unfortunate enough to see this punishment Inflicted. "Horrible Indeed! Why, Miss Dare, I've heard them on the third day cry out for the guard to shoot them, on the fourth tear at their chains and flesh In wild frenzy, and on the fifth led back to their cells stark raving mad. Horrible! Death would be preferable a thousand times!" % Helen looked at him curiously. Woman like, for woman is almost always more Interested In personalities than she Is in generalities, she was more struck by the excitement under which he spoke than by the words he uttered. "You say soldiers should not feel," she said, giving him a keen, swift arlance, "and yet there Is pity In your face." Horton blushed as If he had been accused of something shameful. "A soldier Is only human, after all," he said, as If he were excusing himself, "and, being human, he must feel." Helen made no reply, but much as she had liked him before, she had never liked him half so well as she did now. By this time they had reached the steps of the surgeon's quarters. For some unexplained reason Helen did not ask her escort to enter, but she extended her hand to him, which be took, and, after a moment's hesitation, raised respectfully to his lips. Helen, gathering her draperies about tier, ascended the steps, and, without i backward glance, vanished within. But Horton did not go. He lighted i cigar, and sat down upon the piazza, aisliking to leave the shrine within kvhich his divinity was enthroned. When Helen entered the hall she found Dr. Sherwood seated there, busied with a certain number of vials le had upon his desk. He started up as she came In and ldvanced toward her with a look svhlch no one but she could call upon lis face. "Nell!" She bowed coldly and was about to pass him by on her way up stairs, but le stopped her with a passionate gesture. "Just a moment, Nell!" She paused and turned toward him. But there was something: aggressive n her manner which chilled him to the aone. If he had not been so blinded ay his passion he would have known :hen and there that there was no hope for him either now or in the future. But he could not see this, and he went an pleadingly: "I want to speak to you." "Your wife Is waiting for me," replied Helen, with Icy hauteur; "you nust be brief." He struck his hands together in the intensity of his ardor. "Why do you treat me so distantly?" "I am forced to accept your hospitality," she answered, and her every iccent showed how repugnant it was to her. "Have I appeared ungrateful?" Oh, the intense sarcasm contained in these words?a sarcasm so biting that it pierced even Sherwood's thick irmor of egotism. But he avoided any direct answer. Smarting as he was, he did not dare to inv himself oDen to anv further shafts from her tongue, although he tried to persuade himself that these ivere launched to protect herself rath?r than to wound him. "You avoid me at every turn," he said, with piteous accusation, "never illowlng me a moment with you ilone." "Your wife has the first call upon >-our spare moments," she answered, laying particular emphasis upon the svord wife. "She Is failing very fast." "Ah!" and there was something in tils voice that was not exactly regret, but rather satisfaction: "you have noticed that." And then with a sudden ?hange, due to jealousy, which Helen recognized at once, he added: "Why ire you so constantly with her?" "In her company I am free from annoyance." "Annoyance?" starting as if a blow had been struck him. "From me?" "If you will have It so?yes," answered Helen. She had no wish to spare him, and she wanted him to unJerstand distinctly, once for all. Just how she felt toward him. "Besides, I have grown to love her, to pity her." "Pity her? Why?" "Is not an unloved wife deserving of blty?" . "Then take a share of the blame to yourself," cried Sherwood, driven almost wild by what he considered her ibstinacy. "Until you came here, there was no thought of disloyalty In my breast." i "Then I shall leave at once," said I, Helen, evidently meaning exactly what e she said. This announcement drove Sherwood nearly frantic. His passion for her l had been growing stronger day by day, t until now it amounted to something not far removed from Insanity. "You shall not!" he cried. At this moment, Horton, who had ? been attracted by the sound of voices i raised apparently In altercation, entered the room. 1 "Each day you have spent beneath this roof," went on Sherwood, excited, ly, "brought back to me the happy.. hours we spent together. Nell, Is i s there no tender memory of the past In your heart? Have you so utterly forgotten ?" i "Utterly," replied Helen, coldly, atr tempting to pass him. * c i But Sherwood caught her by the c wrist. ip s "You shall not leave me like this!" ! Horton advanced. Even beneath J I the bronze his face looked pale. ' 1 "Can I be of any service, Miss Dare?" J he asked, endeavoring to steady his c i voice. .? s i Sherwood released his grasp, and c i the two started apart. "Do you consider eavesdropping part t : of your duties, Mr. Horton?" asked 1 isnerwood, flushed with anger at the f lll.tlm oH intarruntlnn "Do you consider It a host's duty to r Insult his guests?" returned Horton, c ' not In the least Intimidated. s "Hush! hush!" exclaimed Helen In a low tone of warning with a slight II gesture toward the stairs at the top a of which Florence was standing. " ' "Helen! Sidney!" called Florence, ' In a tired voice. "I am so lonely. ^ Won't you come up?" ] ll "In a moment, Florence," replied a Sherwood. And then turning to Hor- a ton. he added in a lower tone, preg- 8 i nant with meaning. "We will attend r to this matter later, Horton." "At your own convenience, doctor," a answered the scout, no less slgnlfl- I cantly. 1 The doctor bowed and went up the a stairs to his wife. * 0 "Won't you come, too, Helen?" ask- 1 ed Florence, In the querulous tone of an Invalid. I "Yes, Florence, at once." . s Sherwood and his wife entered the *1 letter's chamber. As soon as they had disappeared Helen turned to Horton * with a wealth of entreaty shining from y her beautiful eyes. "Promise me." she began, almost 0 breathlessly, "promise me on your v word of honor not to renew this sub- a Ject with him." Horton looked at her as If he would a plunge his gaze Into her very soul. ^ "What is that man to you?" he asked, sternly. "A strange question, Mr. Horton, for * you to address to me!" exclaimed teel en, haughtily. 1 "I see you wish to shield him." "Sir, do you dare " she began, Imperiously. And then, suddenly e#- ^ memberlng all that was at stake, she Interrupted herself, to continue In a t far different tone: "Oh, no! no! no! Will you not believe In me?" Believe In her! He would give his a life to do so; and yet how could what p he had heard be explained? "That man has no right to speak such words to you?" he asked, eagerly. "No!" she replied, vehemently, ralslng her eyes unflinchingly to his. "No! he has no right! Give me your promise!" "Helen!" called Florence from her rootn. "Yes. dear," raising her voice, "I am p coming." She turned again to the scout: "Promise!" . a Horton hesitated a moment, and y then, unable to resist her Imploring gaze, he answered slowly: "Until we meet again, I promise." h Helen, with a sigh of relief, seized . his hand Impulsively. _ . "Oh, thank you! .And, Mr. Horton, trust me!" In another moment she was gone. n Horton went out of the house, his j. brain In a maze of bewilderment, j, What did It all mean? That man ^ Sherwood had called her Nell, and had nn/vlrnn rt# n noof KalwAAn thnm f\f n|7i/i\un ui a paol ucittccii mciu, a?u ^ a love. And she had tried to shield j him. >nd then their first meeting. g when t th had been so deeply moved. ^ Horton groaned aloud. What a blind fool he had been. But no, there was truth In that sweet face or he had ^ never seen It in woman's eyes before. ^ Away with all doubts! Yes. through thick and thin; come weal, come, woe, v he would trust her! ^ (To be Continued. b _ d BOTH WERE TRICKY. h a A Bit of Butinesa Between a Merchant d and a Lumberman. 1 There used to be an old retired mer- ? chant In Detroit who delighted In recalling his experiences when an active 8 man running a general store in one of the northern cities of the lower penin- n sula. w "I used to reap a harvest when the men were coming out of the woods," w he relates. "They were not up In a styles, and about any old thing would 8 suit them provided the color was right and the fit even passable. But there were tricksters among them, and I e had to have my wits about me In or- a der to keep even with them. " 'How much is that hat?," asked a 1 0 strapping six footer who arrived from camp one day with a pocketful of money. " 'Two fifty," I replied. "Then he informed me that he al- n ways had the crowns of his hats punched full of holes In order to keep ^ his head cool and his hair from com Ing out. I soon had this attended to, a and then he asked what the hat was worth. 'Two fifty,' I responded In surprise, but he laughed at me for asking such a price for damaged goods. He had me and got his hat for $1, while the Jolly crowd with him had a laugh at my expense. He wanted to look at some 'fiddles,' and after pricing ' one at $10 concluded to take It. "'Where's the bow?' he asked as I was doing up the package. "'You only bought the fiddle,' I laughed. The others saw the point and laughed too. The giant tried to blufT me, but I kept good humored and got even on the hat by charging h him $1.50 for the bow. I not only got even, but the others were so pleased e( with my 'Yankee trick' that they spent plenty of money with me."? Detroit Free Press. a ?ltettUaiM0U0 ?tauU?j. 8AW JESSE JAMES TWICE. A Boy*' Mooting With Two Notod Outlow*. "Not long ago I met up with young Jesse James," said a man, the son of in army officer, who spent his youth it western army postB. "Young Jesse ecently came out at the top of his law :-lass In Kansas City. "He Is a bright, but singularly tacl:urn chap?like his dad before him In :hat respect. He looks a good deal like Ills father, barring the elder Jesse's >eard, and this Is a boost for him, for he outlaw was a handsome man?a nan who, though he came of stock ather below the middling, had the ?rved features and many other points >f the thoroughbred, Including remarkibly small hands and feet. "I had two good looks at Jesse Fames, the outlaw?once when he was ivlng and the other when he was dead. Ind, with my younger brother, I was >nce at the age of 8 the terrified and ihrieklng victim of a famous member if the James gang. Wood Hlte. "That little Incident was an odd afalr. It was due to that desperado's nnate cruelty and his hankering to Inlict torture upon human creatures? or Hlte was the most reckless and nerclless devil of the James gang. I've iften heard It said?that my brother ind I became pretty good swimmers. "My brother was 7 and I was only a Ittle bit more than 8. and we used to neak away from home to go swlmnlng In the wicked Missouri river, vhich flows past Fort Leavenworth. Then we got down to our regular walowing spot at the river-side one hot ftemoon we found a huge, red-haired nd red-bearded fellow sitting In the hade of a tree close to the verge, fanilng himself with his sombrero. "He spoke to us In an agreeable way nd we didn't mind him. We stripped o fool around in the shallow water, 'he red-bearded man watched us for . while, and then he climbed into an Id leaky skiff that was pulled up on 1 he river bank. "'Get in. young 'uns,' he said to us ileasantly?he had an agreeable Deaklns: voice when he chose to make t so, 'and we'll have a little ride.' We climbed Into the stern sheets of he skiff, a pair of pleased naked ' oungsters. Without saying a word he red-bearded man rowed the skiff ut into the middle of the Big Muddy, rhlch Is a mile, or nearly a mile, wide 1 t Fort Leavenworth, and the current i'as as swift as a mill race out there nd filled with sucking eddies. When ie pulled the boat to midstream he Topped the oars, rose, calmly stepped 1 o where we sat huddled In the stern heets, picked us up one by one and 1 ellberately tossed us over the side of he Bklff Into the arrowy river, "Did we swim? Well, you'll observe hat I am here for one, to show that 1 re swam all right. We had to swim, j 'here wasn't anything to It "I don't suppose Hlte really meant o drown us. All he wanted to do was to orture us. We spluttered and hollered nd shrieked, but we swam. As we assed down with the current he plckd up the oars and followed us In the klff. . "We got hold of the skiff and he 1 elped us in. He allowed us to breathe 1 or a bit, and then he threw us over- 1 oard again. "He repeated this half a dozen times r more. ! "We whimpered and begged, but he aid no attention to that. He'd just Ick us up and chuck us Into the swirl- 1 ig stream like as If we were part of ( skiff load of cobblestones, take us 1 rhen we began to show signs of com-, lete exhaustion, and then when we'd ested up In the boat for a short spell, ' eave us overboard again. He got (red of the sport after about three- : uarters of an hour at It and rowed us ' shore. 1 "We had, of course, no Idea who the ' tan was. About a month later Wood ( lite, killed by another desperado, was ' nt"oklng men that I ever saw, before or fter, strolled Into the store. He was early six feet tall, and, even with the ither billowy duster that shrouded Im to down below the tops of his purred boots, as straight as a lance, Ith shoulders so broad that they eemed almost out of proportion with He fineness of his waist-line, which howed where the linen duster wrlnk!d in at his middle. "He wore*a big cream-colored somrero. pushed somewhat back on his st black hair, and his heavy beard, as lack as the under side of a raven's ing, was in curious contrast to the r Lrange pallor of his skin?he'd been nder cover for a long time then, and Is face had bleached out. But the mn's eyes were what took me, daunt- ? J and rather frightened me. "They were extraordinarily large, ot of the popping kind, but just big nd perfectly set, and of the most bril- r llant and flashing blackness. When the man entered the door he cast those [eyes about in a quick, roving glance that took everything in at the one flash, Including me, the kid on the sacks of bran. I caught his eye, and I shrank from the immehse penetration of that quick gaze, not because the eyes were essentially wicked, but because of the Impaling penetration of them. "Jeff Brunstetter, the storekeeper, who was casting up some accounts behind a partition at the rear, came out when he heard the entering footsteps of the striking visitor. The black-eyed man nodded when he saw Jeff standing there at the bar. Brunstetter look- i ed like something transfixed. " You damned fool!' he said to the man who'd Just come In. and I can recall how I said to myself that Jeff must < be a mighty brave man to call such a looking man as the visitor such a name 1 as that. 'Haven't you grot any sense at all?' ' "The black-bearded man smiled, and it was a rather winning smile at that, and one that reassured me, for I was still quivering a bit under the balefulness of the quick and stabbing glance the man had given me upon entering. ' "It wasn't until I was a man grown 1 that Jeff Brunstetter told me about ( what happened at the meeting, the last time he ever saw Jesse James. The < two had been brought up together in 1 Missouri, and James trusted Brunstetter implicitly. "They walked to the room back of the store. James told Jeff that he was < passing through on his way. back to his plant In St. Joe, where his wife was. and had decided to dig up Jeff, 1 whom he hadn't seen for a long time. From my position on the sack of bran, I heard Brunstetter expostulating with the visitor, though I didn't catch the ' words. "Jeff was really putting It Into James i for taking such a daring chance as walking around the edge of Leaven- i worth when there were a lot of fellows < about In the district who might rec- t ognize him from having been by when i James was putting over bank and train < and other bold robberies In and around i Leavenworth. Then James said: < " 'They're going to get me. Not the posse people, but somebody. I don't 1 know who. But I've got a feeling, had ] It for months, that I'm near the cash I In. Glad to look you over again. Tou t gave me a good licking when we were < young 'uns, and I've always liked you ] for It. Here's something to keep, If < you want It,' and the outlaw tucked 1 a hand beneath his linen duster at the < belt line, pulled a cartridge from his < stuffed leather belt and handed It over ] to Brunstetter. 'So long. It won't be \ long before you'll be hearing that | Bomebody has got me.' ] Drunsieiier puua-puuueu an max and 'advised James to try to reach the t west coast and make Australia, where ' he could begin over again on the level with the bank roll that he had put away. James shook his head over the suggestion and. with a grip of Jeffs hand, strolled carelessly out. "As he passed me he reached out a hand and gave me a pat on the head. At the same time he caught sight of the title at the top of the dime novel I was reading?'The James Boys at Blue Cut,' or something of that sort. "His Jaw tightened when he'd read the title and then he shook his head md sort of smiled grimly, and out he passed, swishing his riding whip. He mounted a big thoroughbred sorrel that was standing without tying across the street and rode away. "Something less than a month after that my mother took my brother and myself up to St. Joe to spend a couple of days with a sister, who was attending a girl's seminary at that place. Pord killed Jesse James in the tetter's home on the day after we arrived in St. Joe. "The dead outlaw was laid out in a sort of state in his home, and all of the population of St. Joe were allowed to pass by his bier. I got my ears box?d by my good mother, when I suggested to her that I wanted to go to the James house to see the dead outlaw. But I went all the same. And for the second time I had the peculiar experience of recognizing, In death, a celebrated bandit, whom I had seen and been touched by only a little while before when he was in life.?Exchange. TELESCOPE LEN8E3. Astonishing Sensitiveness of These Wonderful Glasses. With the exception of astronomers, few persons have any idea of the wonderful sensitiveness of the lens of a telescope. These marvelous artificial syes can be produced only by the ex rcise of the most scrupulous care in the selection of the glass Itself, consummate skill and inexhaustible patience. The process of grinding and polishing often occupies several months. When the lens of a big tel ;scope Is completed, it constitutes one * )f the greatest marvels wrought by r -nan. r An article In the Literary Digest de- 1 icrlbes how the sensitiveness of a lens 8 vas Illustrated by Alvan Clark, the * jreatest lensmaker America has produced: S Mr. Clark walked down to the lens * ind held his hand under It about two a 'eet away. Instantaneously a marvel- 1 >us spectacle burst Into view. It seem- 1 ;d as If the great glass disk had be- 0 ;ome a living volcano, spurting forth lets of flame. The display was dazzling. Waving, ^ eapln'g. dancing, the countless tongues >f light gleamed and vibrated; then Itfully, reluctantly, they died away, t eavlng the lens reflecting only a pure, . r jntroubled llgnt. What is it? How do you account (i 'or the wonder? were the eager ques- a Ions. It is only the radiation of heat ilternately expanding and contracting he glass. If the hand had been put ipon the lens itself, the phenomenon ^ vould have been more violent. s To a person Ignorant of lenses the ^ ilmost supernatural sensitiveness of a g nass of glass weighing several hun- ]( Ired pounds is astonishing, but to the iclentlst It is an everyday matter, for le has Instruments that will register vlth unfaltering nicety the approach ^ )f a person fifty or a hundred feet tway. b In Stockholm one person In six is t( i telephone subscriber. q tir it is estimated that all the inhab- c tants of the world could stand com- j, brtably in the space of eighty square niles. p PINKERTON ON THE JOB. 1 One of the Famous Detective's 8hrewdest Feats. "It Is probable that few Buffalo people know th$t one of the shrewdest detective feats ever performed by Robert A. Pinkerton, the famous detective who died a few days ago, was pulled off In Buffalo," said the Rev. Byron H. Stauffer the other day to a reporter of the Buffalo Expresfe. "A most remarkable express robbery occurred at Susquehanna, Pa., in 1886, in which (40,000 sent by the Erie railroad from New York to its sfiops in Susquehanna was stolen from the safe of the United States Express company at that place. The robbery occurred on a Saturday night. Bags containing bogus coin were placed in ?Vn? oafa an that Iho pplmfl WAJ) not discovered until the next Monday i morning. Robert A. Pinkerton was sent for. "He soon made the discovery that the Job had not been done In New York, as at flrst supposed. The bags were of a kind discarded by the company six months before. The safe had been opened by some one who solved the combination. George Proctor, an employee of the express company, had left on Saturday for a two weeks' vacation. Bob Pinkerton started on his trail and located him in Buffalo, where he was risking money freely In the pool rooms and bucket shops. "Bob Pinkerton arrested Proctor and took him to the old Tift House, on Main street, where, after an hour or more of the sweating process, Proctor confessed that two other men were implicated in the deal?Clutch Donahue, who was at that time keeping the Queen's hotel at Fort Erie, and another man named Collins. "Proctor promised to lure his accomplices over to Buffalo from Fort Erie and put up all he had left of his Bhare of the robbery as a sort of security to do the Job. Two detectives shadowed Proctor for several days, and finally he eluded them and crossed over to Fort Erie, where he was safe because the extradition laws of that time did not cover robbery caaes. "Bob Plnkerton did not give up tiope. He found that Donahue, the Port Erie hotel keeper, was wanted In Canada for several bold robberies, so he crossed the river to Fort Erie md had a long talk with Donahue. Be sat up all night with the notorious Clutch, threatening him with arrest Py the Canadian authorities unless he lellvered his pal. Proctor, on American soil. By promise of immunity Donahue was finally persuaded to give up what he had left of his share of :he $40,000, and to lure his accomplice. Proctor, to the United States. "It was agreed that the three men should start for England for safety. They were to take train by way of Montreal for Portland, Me., where they could ship to England. Collins ind Donahue were to slip off the train at the station before the train crossed the Canadian border into New Hampshire, and Proctor was to be arrested as soon as he crossed the line. "Then Bob Plnkerton planned a coup d'etat to bag the whole bunch. With three or four detectives he warded the train on which the robcers were riding three or four stalons before the train came to the Canadian border. The conductor igreed to run the train through the ast station before the border without itop, so that Donahue and Collins could not leave it But the two men clayed a still more clever game, get:lng off the train before the Plnkerton nen boarded It and leaving Proctor isleep In his berth as the train crossed the line after midnight. Proctor vas arrested and sentenced to a long erm in the penitentiary. "Thomas C. Piatt, president of the Jnlted States Express company, was < lot satisfied, however, to let the other 1 :wo men off so easily and carried the t natter to the Canadian authorities, 1 vhere Clutch Donahue was convicted I )n another charge and his property at ' j'ort Erie confiscated. * "Bob Plnkerton was a good hearted < ;hap. After sending Proctor to the ^ jenltentlary he felt sorry for his fam- 8 ly and raised (1,000 for Proctor's < vlfe and set her up In a little business t n Pennsylvania, where she is still naklng a living." 8 Mr. Stauffer was well acquainted 8 vith the famous detective. He first net him at Olendale, Mo., about flfeen miles from St. Louis. Mr. Stauf'er was at that time nineteen years 1 )ld, a cub reporter on the St Louis Chronicle. A big robbery occurred at he little town, and Mr. Stauffer went 1 >ut to cover It for his paper. Bob 8 Plnkerton went to the scene of the t obbery on a special locomotive. Mr. 8 Jtauffer tried to get aboard the engine s ind was refused. He boarded an ac- 8 rommodation. Something happened v o the special locomotive, so that Mr. c Jtauffer arrived at the scene of the I obbery as soon as the detective. They t ode back together In the same train a o St. Louis, and the acquaintance v tarted there was maintained between ii hem for many years. t "As I remember him," said Mr. t Jtauffer, "he was a tall man with " >road shoulders, a bulldog face, and n in exceedingly silent man who Inher- A ted all the courage of his famous 4 ather, Allan Plnkerton, the founder n if the famous detective agency." a o THE BLACK SCOURGE. a n 'Hat Fearful and Mystic Visitation of e Olden Days. a The plague or pestilence, that mys- |, erlous and fearful visitation which e ias moved its hosts in the wake of g rmies to slay more than war ltselt, u 3 supposed 10 nave rirst ungiiuticu e mong the dense masses of people who v rowded together In the great cities v f Asia and Egypt, or who formed the d ncampment8 of Xerxes, Cyrus and s "amarlane the Tartar. It probably n prang from the Impurity which must * iave existed in the midst of such vast atherings, and in part also from I saving the unburied dead upon the eld of battle. At any rate, the germs ? f this fearful human poison have c lways been most active -where con- ^ itlons similar to those have prevail- jj d. It has always been war and the t larch of armies that have spread It a roadcast over the world from time '' o time, and as war became less fre- j, uent and less worldwide the frequen- a y and extent of these ravages have Jj issened also. The first recorded outbrettk of the ^ lague in Europe occurred 3n the six- v teenth century. It came from lower Egypt. This was the first lapping of the wave that reached Into the east igain, there to stay Its movements, so far as* the west was concerned, until >44 A. D., when the returning legions >t the Emperor Justinian brought it igain Into the western world from the >attleflelds of Persia. Constantinople vas the first place it attacked. Here n a single day as many as 10.Q00 per10ns are said to have fallen victims :o it. But the plaglie did not stop vlth Constantinople. It had found a oo congenial boII in Europe, which vas little else than one great battleleld at the time. It was carried into 3aul, where it followed close in the vake of the Franklsh armies, and 'rom Qaul it moved into Italy, with he Lombards, and so devastated the sountry as to leave It entirely at the nercy of the Invaders. The various crusades, which extend>d over a period of about 200 years, 10 doubt did much to hold the pestlence in Europe, for they served to ceep open the channels of intercourse >etween the east and the west Perlwits* anMnmlna wapa onmmnn HnHnff * heir continuance, and these seem to lave culminated In the fourteenth :entury with what is known In hlsory as the black death. The black leath was more fatal to human life han any other single cause since the vorld began. The havoc of war was lothlng In comparison to It. It swept he whole of Europe, leaving in Its jeth such misery and destitution as he world has never known. It killed n three years some 26,000,000 people. Such figures stagger the comprelenslon, but the records of the time :annot be doubted. The entire popllatlon of Europe Is estimated to have >een about 100,000,000, kept down as t was by the constant warfare, and >f these at least a fourth'perished. The ravages of the plague In Italy, vhere it came in the track of the war >f the Quelphs and Ghlbellines, was )artlcularly disastrous to mankind. :t raged with terrible fury in Naplea vhere 60,000 persons are said to have lied. It fell upon Pisa, and seven out >f every ten perished. It utterly and 'orever destroyed the prosperity of llena. Florence also suffered severey, while 100,000 of the inhabitants >f Venice were literally wiped off the ace of the earth. From Italy it raov>d into France, where the mortality va8 almost as great. In Paris alone >0,000 people died from it One of he worst features presented by the listory of the black death was the :ruel persecution It aroused against he Jews. They were supposed to iave infected the air In some mysterl>us manner, and they were accused >f having poisoned the wells and the iprlngs. In Strassbu?g 2,000 of them vere buried alive in their own burial rround. The order of the Flagellanto arose it this time, coming from the belief hat the sins of the world had at last brought down the wrath of heaven. !t was the beginning of the so-called lundred years' war that carried the >lack death Into England, where In ^ondon its victims numbered 100,>00. When at last the plague tad worked its ravages It doubled tack over Its course to dlsap>ear In the east. Later on it ap>eared again In England, first among he soldiers of Richmond, after the tattle of Bosworth Field, and when he victorious army marched to Lonlon the plague went with them to vork its havoc there. As long as it asted the mortality was as great as hat caused by the black death half i century before. Five thousand peo>le died In five weeks, and then the >lague left London as suddenly as It tad appeared there to sweep over the est of England. In Scotland the plague of IBM :ame immediately after the battle of Jangside, when Queen Mary was de hroned, but no records of the mortalty it occasioned seem to have been preserved. The plague visited London n 1675. This followed after the civil var which ended with the death of Charles II., but so many years Intervened that it is impossible to trace iny connection between the two ni? in modern wars dansrer from he plague seems gradually to have essened perhaps as a result of better lanltary conditions maintained by the irmles of today. NATIONAL ANTHEM. There Should Be No Tinkering With the "8tar 8pangied Banner." It seems that the true national anhem must be an "occasional" poem, ays ^cribner. Allegorical abstracions will uc do. France has had everal national hymns since thfi Marelllaise marched up to Paris. But he still marches to the strains of t'hat Carlyle calls "the luckiest muslal composition ever promulgated." }erhaps Rouget de 1'Isle's lnspiraion was as much poetical as musical, ?nd the lesson of his unparalleled ogue seems at any rate to be that it a an event and not an abstraction hat Alls the requirements of a nalonal anthem. Forseythe Wlllson abstracted." and quite in the grand aanner, the essence of our civil war. md yet you cannot precisely see mule lan s "setting" the abstractions, nuch less multitudes singing the ame. The "Star Spangled Banner," n the other hand, celebrated an event .nd an event which the patriotic nuse oould hardly have been expectd to celebrate, being an episode of bout the most inglorious campaign i which the American arms were ver engaged. And the "Star Spanled Banner*" has Just become "acttal," by the assumption of certain durntnrs fa rillmlnate those of its irords which seenn to be Incompatible rith the present Anglo-American unlerstandlng.*' These educators conidered that British susceptibilities night be touched by (the statement hat lo refuge could eare the hireling and slave i*rom the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave, Ithough neither of those fates was xactly that of the British force which aptured Washington, what time the Lmerican "politics" were In fact conounded, and American tricks, knavsh or otherwise, were in fact frusrated. But militant Americanism has .risen in its might, insisting that hireIng and slave shall not be deleted, ,nd that the attempt to delete them s Anglomanlncal. The attempt does ,t least look rather puerile. It is a nore serious trouble with the "Star Ipangled Banner," considered aa & tational anthem, that the average American can neither remember the yords nor manage the tune.