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YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. ISStTED SKMI-WEKKLY. l. m. grist's sons, publishers. } % Ifamitg fteu-spaper: |for the promotion of the political, ?ociat. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the $eogl<. {TEr9?noLe cSpV/i ii VANCI! established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., FRIDAY, APRIL 3, 1908. NO. 27. !m mi >11 hi in m tiLiu.m.iihty.n By CLARENCE nwunwiwwwmniwimw CHAPTER XV. Prier Consults Rev. John Kane. There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night. Mr. Prier was out very early in the morning, earlier than most of the residents of Boomville. much earlier than those who would shovel off the walks and make pedestilanism easier a couple of hours or so later. Mr. Prier pushed his way energetically through the. snow. He enjoyed It. The slight physical exercise required, slight to one so full of vigor as he was. stimulated his brain to activity. Out in the open air. pushing his way through the deep-piled drifts, filling his lungs with the rich air?cold, dense, and full of the spicy strength of the pine woods through which it had roared and raved the whole night long ?he could think, think, think. And you will not forget that this gentleman had come up from Boston to Boomville on purpose to think: you will remember that Mrs. Constance Craig was his half-sister?that he had loved her?and that for ten years her death had been the one unexplained mystery of all the puzzles and problems to which he had given his time and his energies. He had made up his mind to call upon Rev. John Kane, and have a conversation with him. He had not yet made up his mind what he meant to say. or what he desired to have the clergyman say: he had not determined just what he hoped to find out?indeed he was not certain that he had any hopes at all In the matter; he did not know why he had selected Rev. John Kane rather than some other of the several spiritual teachers in charge of the several churches in Boomville. He had resolved to see a clergyman, and ask him some questions of a general nature?because the most insulting letter he had ever received had suggested it; he was going to let circumstances determine just what should be said and done, just what sought and found?because he was in the dark, decidedly in the dark, and this was to be an experiment in the direction.of light: he was going to see Rev. John Kane? because his impulses led him in that direction?such impulses as had led him to walk up and down in front of Donald Barron's house the night the old man died. He had reasoned about the matter, of coui-se. How could he help 4t? Knowing, as he did. that there are times when reason is a delusion and a snare, times when one will find that way best down which blind instinct silently and persistently point, times when air and woods and waters?and the stars in the sky?all seem whispering a hint of a lesson of unreasoning and supernatural directness, a hint of a lesson which can never go beyond a hint while man is hindered and hampered by the possession of an instru mentality so gross as tne numun u?>uv for the execution of his desires and purposes, and so material as a brain for the knowledge of them?knowing all this, he had, nevertheless, reasoned about the matter. On the one hand was the fact that Rev. John Kane had married Elsie Barron to Gilbert Senn, and that so far as that event was connected?nearly or remotely?with the solution of the problem so near his heart, Rev. John Kane was the man who must be meant by the letter, if any particular Boomvllle clergyman was meant at all. Rev. John Kane had buried Donald Barron, too. so Mr. Prier had learned. (You will remember that the relations existing between the detective and the daughter of Donald Ban-on had rendered it inexpedient for the former gentleman to attend the funeral of the latter.) Walter Aldrlch was a regular attendant at the church in charge of Rev. John Kane. And so far, of course, the argument was clearly in favor of an application to Mr. Kane?a request that he would give his opinion on the subject of aid, difficulties, sinners and remorse. On the other side of the question was the fact that Gilbert Senn had been a regular attendant at another ehnroh the foot that Rev. Jnhn Kane had been a resident of Boomville for less than a year; and the fact that the clergyman who had confirmed Elsie Barron in her young girlhood?who had baptized her in her infancy?who had performed the last rites over her mother?who had officiated when Donald Barron had taken upon himself the solemn vows and obligations of matrimony?was lying under the snows and sods, not far from the dead Barrons, and that his lips of wisdom and experience were closed for ever. John Kane, young and more thoroughly versed in the theories of theol mail 111 lilt* pitll'livcll r.\|inirutc.i of life, had taken the place r?f the old, gray-haired wise and experienced mar who had laid his burden down to go to his reward. John Kane had lived ir Boomvtlle less than a year. Why should Trier consult John Kane? Why had the writer of the anonymous letter put it into the mind of the detective to do so, unless, indeed, it was his purpose to still more puzzle and annoy him, and to throw Justice further from the track leading knowledgeward' What did John Kane know which was worth Trier's time to learn? And yet?Trier's impulses led hlrr toward Mr. Kane, and he had determined to follow his impulses. Mr. J. It. Trier would, in the humble opinion of the writer, have made ar excellent general. His foes would likely have found his fortifications good, and his defense vigorous?if the} ever found him other than the aggressive attacking party. In a charge. ] can fancy his actions almost sublime: the men he led would never have beer lead in retreat?and I think they would scarcely have left Trier, to engage ir re*teat themselves?so that there is m doubt in my mind that he would hav< made an excellent leader?that a forlorn hope, under his direction, would have ceased to be forlorn, and that tin i ! BOUTELLE. wwntwwwfiifth hi in iwiii i hope would have blossomed under the sun of courage, reddened and ripened under the rain of blood, and have enriched him with the glorious fruition of victory. That snowy morning, Mr. Prier manifested one of the important qualifications of a soldier and a leader?the virtue of caution. It is undoubtedly true that the reconnaissance is a necessity?though it be a disagreeable one to the man who likes action and conflict. And Mr. Prier was about to walk by Rev. John Kane's house, in order to look over the belongings and surroundings of the man he Intended to see, noping to lead something of his personality from the appeaiance of the dwelling in which he lived. Do you know that a man's tempt lament and character can be read in his front yard as well as in his face?or better? The fence behind which he intrenches himself from the outside world: the gate which he opens when he goes to work, or shuts when he goes in to rest: the door he passes, whether out for his part in the world's battle, or in to the domesticity which is unknown outside the family circle: the scars his feet, slow or hurrying have left on walk, on piazza, and on threshold: all these speak louder than words?and more truthfully?to one who has the key to the tales they tell. The expression of a window may be a smile?or a sullen glare; a sneer?or an invitation. The windows of a house are not less expressive than the windows of the soul?looking out from the human face?and, unlike the latter, they cannot lie. Did you know all this? Do y<?u understand me? Prier knew and understood. And Prier was going to take a look of the bouse in which Kane lived. Rev. John Kane was an instance of "muscular Christianity." His chest was broad: his muscles were firm; his hand and eyes were steady. He was a man who could row, and shoot, and drive, and who enjoyed exercising his powers. He had a smile on his face, and kind words on his lips, almost always. His calling and his duty had not made him morose and sour. The message he had to give regarding another and a better world had not blinded his eyes to the brightness of this one. Strong, cheerful, happy, he was a grand example in his life?his deeds speaking louder than his words of the goodness of right living. Rev. John Kane was a bachelor; there were those who said it was not the fault of the young ladies of his congregation; I am inclined to think that those who said it were right. Mr. Prier found Mr. Kane dealing oft' his walks. He was cutting down the densely packed drifts with a definite mathematical exactness which charmed the detective. He was throwing the snow away with long, vigorous swings of the arms which were good to see. There was no need to give more than a glance at such a man's house and windows, gate and fences: a Man lived there, an openhearted. loyal, earnest Man. "I wish you'd let me help you." said Prier, heartily. Mr. Kane laugnea. "I couldn't think of that," he said. "I suppose I am a very selfish fellow, but I enjoy this too well to give up any of it to another." And Mr. Prier, perhaps carried away by the fresh and breezy joyousness of the other, laughed with him. "Come in and take breakfast with me," said Mr. Kane cordially. "My housekeeper has gone away for a week on a visit to her daughter, and I am all alone, and keeping bachelor's hall in every fact. You shall see how well I can cook a steak, how well I can make a cup of coffee, and some of the lightest and whitest bread you ever ate. It will be a great improvement over the hotel, I can assure you." "I should hope so," said Mr. Prier, opening the gate and walking briskly into the yard; "I should hope so. The hotel is well enough, of course, considering the character of their custom and the wide variety of tastes which they are called upon to serve. I cannot complain of the quality, the variety, or the way in which the food Is served; but the cooking, good though it is, has a terrible sameness about it: the cook i : evidently a person of age and experience?a person who learned his work so thoroughly in his young days as to have forgotten that progress and I improvement have a place in every calling in life. His cooking has no individuality, no personality. He does I not cock because he loves it, nor yet , because he loves those for whom he cooks. No dishes come to me which are delicate compliments to my taste, not one which is an expression of a genuine and honest pride on the part t Of its inventor. I studied cookery , once, before I became a detective, and. i of course, I am deeply interested in it. > Thank you. Mr. Kane. I will breakfast i with you." It may justly be a question, and a matter for wonder, whether Mr. Prier had forgotten his usual caution that morning, or whether he was showing ! himself the sort of "talkative detee tive" which some others had found i him. ' "You are still studying the case of : Constance Craig from a Boomville standpoint. I suppose?" asked the cleri gyman. suddenly, as they sat down to breakfast. Mr. Prier was taken by surprise, and almost thrown off his guard. He ani swered pleasantly, though, and promptI ly enough to satisfy any one not re; markably acute and observing?perr haps any one not actually suspicious. "I thought it was understood that I [ came up here for rest and pleasure," he ; said. i "It is so understood," replied John 1 Kane, quietly; "but of course you cani not help thinking more or less about ? this matter." > Prier smiled. "Certainly not. Xo more than you I could help pondering over sin and its ? remedy?goodness and the means of increasing it?though you were enjoying a vacation time of rest and freedom." "So I thought. But I never take any vacations; I never need any; I am so strong and robust and hearty that "You are very fortunate." interrupted Prier; "very fortunate indeed. I should think you would find your duties taxing to even your powers. I cannot help comparing your calling with mine. It is important enough to find where stolen property has gone, and to restore it to its rightful owners; how much more important to find sinners who are lost and bring them back to him to whom they should belong in every sense of the word. To hunt out crime, and to punish it, is important enough: but who can compare it with the work of convincing crime of its iniquity and humanity of its needs, and pointing out the way of escaping the penalties. My calling is necessary, but a few years will show that my successes and my failures have alike amounted to little: while?you build for Eternity, or fail everlastingly." Kane bowed gravely. "I do my best. Great as is the responsibility, I do not allow it to wreck my pleasant life or cmsh me with worry. Put really. Mr. Prier, have you not mistaken your calling?" Prier shook his head. "I think not. It is too late to change now, even if I had. While Constance Craig's death remains a mystery I shall give no work in any other direction than the study of criminals and their i ways, and of crime and its conditions. I shall give my work to other cases than that of my half-sister only because I must have the money I earn in studying them in order that I may adequately and successfully (God grant it!) study hers. I shall accept only such cases as seem to give promise of helping me to learn that which will be an aid in that one direction later. But?to answer your question in a way you probably did not expect, I will tell \ you something I seldom mention: I did think of your calling as my possible employment once: I took a very i thorough course in theology- once, some time before 1 became a detective, and "Why didn't you make use of your education? Why did you go so fully to the other extreme of work?" nsked Mr. Kane, in undisguised astonishment. "Well, to tell the truth, I was almost too liberal in my views. I didn't believe all that seemed necessary. I had an idea that mankind was Better 4han it is. But did I go to the other extreme of the work of the world?" "Pardon me," said Mr. Kane; "I did not intend to hurt your feelings. But you certainly undertook a work which was well calculated to impress you with the depravity of man, did you not?' "Indeed I did?God knows I did," said Prier. "And have, perhaps, changed your views?" "Indeed I have?radically," "I remember what you said to me 1 when Elsie Barron became Gilbert Senn's wife. I did not understand It then, for I little guessed the crime you were so soon to 'ay at his door." "No," said the detective; "you little J guessed that. One little guesses a detective's purposes until he reveals them. We go. in the most natural manner imaginable, and often on the personal invitation of those with whom it is to our interest to talk, wherever and?usually?whenever we please. We talk much?and tell little. We listen little?and learn much. But what was it I said which so impressed you, 1 though I have myself forgotten it?" "That you believed in eternal punishment! You meant it. did you not? , You believe it, I presume?" "I meant it. I believe it." said Frier, solemnly. "And when did you first come to believe it?" queried Kane. Prler bowed his head upon his hands, leaning heavily with his elbows on the breakfast table. "Oh, my God!" he cried, in agony of voice, while the tears ran through his fingers, and he shook with his emotion as an ague-cursed man might have done: "I?I learned that when I looked down upon the dead face of Constance. the sweet face of the sister I had loved so since her earliest babyhood, slain in her youth by the coward hands of secrecy; murdered?murdered?murdered!" "Ah." said the clergyman, in a strangely hushed voice. And then there was silence, silence save as it was broken by the sobs and groans of Prier, for many minutes. Prier looked up at last. His tears were gone. His eyes looked as though they had never known what tears were, nor would ever know. His lips smiled, actually smiled, but I pity the une who ever has to face that smile when Prier's hand has found the way to Prier's purpose. "I?I?you needn't tell me again that you tire in Boomville for pleasure," said Mr. Kane, quietly, after he had looked Mr. Prler in the face for a half-dozen seconds; "for it wouldn't be true. You are here on business, and?" "And you needn't tell any one else," answered Prier. pointedly. "Certainly not," said John Kane, reaching his hand across the table, and grasping that of the detective; "certainly not. By-the-way, where is Gilbert Senn?" "I don't know." "You don't know?" "No. He left town during my absence in Boston, I think, and I have not learned where he went." "Cannot you find out?" "I haven't tried." "Are you not afraid of losing him if you delay?" "It makes no difference to me where in- goes. i am mme wiiii hum. "Arc you? Of course you are done with him so far as the law goes, hut do you intend to lot that ho the end with a man as guilty as ho is? True, the jury acquitted him. True, the lawyer cleared him. True, the judge gave a charge which rendered only one verdict possible. True, under our laws, he cannot again be tried upon this charge. True, he cannot be hanged, but " "I'll be blamed if I don't hang some one," interrupted Prior. Kane smiled. "I think you will hang no one for this. But I cannot understand how you can let Senn go in peace. I should suppose you would follow him whereover he went, keeping those about him fully informed of his past, guarding Innocence and virtue against his wiles and wickedness, making another murder Impossible, and " "And making his life one long torture! Driving him down when he should be helped and elevated. Making crime a necessity to him. Making his place outside the fields of usefulness and honest labor, outside the circle of trust, outside the pale of faith and hope, in the world?in the flesh? but beyond the power of the Providence of God. Rev. John Kane, I am a detective?you are a clergyman: it is my business to bring crime to justice?yours to temper justice with hope and point the path to mercy. Whyare you so much harder on this man than I am?" "Perhaps I am not, for " "f beg your pardon then," said Prior. "Perhaps I did speak hastily." "My pardon is granted. You undoubtedly spoke justly. I was trying to put myself in your place, to speak a^ I fancied you must think, to look upon the matter from the standpoint of an average humanity?an unregenerated humanity, if you please." "Ah! I see. And I beg your pardon again." "There is nothing to pardon. But let me go back to where I was when you interrupted me. Gilbert has gone?" "Yes." "You do not know where?" "No." "And yet you are his enemy?" "No. I am not. I am his friend. Read that. It is a copy of a paper I gave him?not personally, but by mail ?between the time of the verdict and my going to Boston." The clergyman opened the paper, and read the lines it contained, while the look of amazement deepened and deepened on his face. I think we are entitled to read the lines also, and I transcribe them here: Boomville. Me., Nov. 24. 187?. "To Whom It May Concern: I take pleasure in saying that I am well acquainted with Mr. Gilbert Senn, the bearer of this document, and that I believe him to be energetic, able and honest. I have seen him in danger, and I know him to be brave. I have seen him in difficulty, and I know him to be alert and self-reliant. I believe he would be loyal to every trust, silent, discreet and self-sacrificing beyond the needs of ordinary honor. "I take the greater pleasure in making these statements because of the relations which have recently existed between us, and which might make my present attitude toward him, and my present opinion of him, misunderstood. Very truly and sincerely. "J. B. Prler." "That is astounding." said Mr. Kane, as he handed back the paper. "I think so," said Mr. Prier. Unprecedented." "I suppose so." "No one else in all Boomville would have Riven him such a paper." "I fear that is true." "And if he finds work anywhere, he will obtain it on the strength of that document." "I hope he will." "But, Mr. Prier, Gilbert Senn is guilty." "No, Gilbert Senn is innocent. I think lie knows something about the horrible fate of Mrs. Craig, something which he has never told, possibly something which he may never tell, but " "But you arrested him and brought him to trial for the crime." "Certainly. But only to try and frighten him into telling the truth. I did not expect him to say he killed Constance Craig; I did expect him to toll who did. Perhaps he doesn't know; for his own sake, I hope he does not; for my own sake, I hope so, too; for while I am sure that he knows much more than he has told, I don't know how much it is?I cannot guess how much it is. And I am sure others know more than they have told, and I feel certain that there is no one in all f ?'om u-hnm H w 111 hf> mfil'P difficult to get information regarding that horrible event than from Gilbert Senn." "I presume not," said the clergyman. "Others will volunteer information; others will aid me in every way in their power." "I should think so," said the clergyman, earnestly, raising his mild eyes to look squarely and calmly into the stormy ones of the detective. "And so I didn't expect the evidence to prove Senn guilty," continued Prier; "and " "And were astonished when it did?" But it didn't! Have you never heard that time-honored statement that a chain is no stronger than the weakest link in it? Have you ever examined into the strange characteristics of circumstantial evidence?" "Gilbert Senn was guilty, I have no doubt of that," reiterated the clergyman. "But the evidence of Aldrieh cleared him." "True; but what is easier than for a man to forget some little circumstance which would leave the evidence against Senn unshaken. Ten years is a long time." "It is. But I believe Aldrieh spoke the truth." "I believe he meant too. But did you never know a man to help another out of an awful scrape because he was himself a wicked sinner, and full of remorse?" Prier almost gasped. Those were almost the very words of the anonymous letter he had received. He had come to John Kane, and had used his arts freely to make the reverend gentleman unsuspicious of his errand: the talk regarding the murder and t ie trial had come about gradually and naturally; he had appeared to make Mr. Kane his confidant in regard to his business in Roomville: he had talked fiwUv iinrl with the trreatpsf anna rent frankness; was it possible that all his efforts had been thrown away? Was it possible that the gentleman opposite him had understood him all the time? Was it possible that he. clear-eyed, open, frank, outspoken, had stooped to the use of an anonymous letter? Prier gasped for breath. Perhaps it was as well he did. Had John Kane written the anoymous letter, or bad he not? If the detective had not had to wait a little before lie could speak at all, I think he would have asked him. Prier got his breath and his wits at about the same time. Fort una te Prier! Sometimes we have to regret the ease with which we can speak when astonished, do we not, my friend? "I?I do not understand you," said Mr. Prier. slowly and deliberately: "please explain yourself." "I don't think you need any explanation. I suppose you knew all about your half-sister's affairs?" Prier's face clouded. "I don't understand the reason for your question," he said, guardedly; "nor do I grant that you had the right to ask it. But you have asked it, and I will answer It. I did not know all about my half-sister's affairs." "You knew of the circumstances of her marriage ?" "No. I never met the man she married. I only know that she married In January, that he was drowned in June, and " "I wonder you did not go to the fu neral." "I could not. 1 was in San Francisco ut the time, and busy In hunting1 out the details of a very curious crime? I'd like to tell you about it some time, for it was " "It was certainly no stranger than the facts clustering ubout your halfsister's life at that time. I'd like to hoar it, though, when we've leisure. But now, I think, we have something more important to consider." "I agree with you. And now tell me; what do you know of Constance Craig?" "I know very little, and that only incidentally and by hearsay. I presume you knew that her marriage was sudden?" "I did." "And that she broke her engagement with another man in order to marry Mr. Craig?" "No, I did not know that." "Then I presume you did not know that she had made up the quarrel with the man she had formerly been en gaged to marry, and that a year after Craig's death," if she had lived, she would have been a wife again ?" "No, I certainly did not' know that. Who was the man?" "A man who had not forgotten the woman he had loved?In less than a year?and with her still alive, whatever he may have done with his heart and memory in the years which have come since." "Well, who was he?" '"He was at her funeral. So were you. Who was he?" "I cannot tell. There were many there. The people of the country neighborhood?was It one of them?" John Kane shook his head. "The citizens of Blankford?there were many, and I " The clergyman shook his head again. "And?her?legal?adviser " "Well, who was he?" "Walter Aldrich." "And you've named her lover! Can you see now the responsibility of indirect guilt he must feel? He had quarreled with the lady. It is more than possible that she had quarreled with others in making- up with him again. Ask Mr. Aldrich where he spent the Sunday before the murder " Again the words of the anonymous letter. Again the clear, calm eyes of the bright young clergyman looking level into Ills own. Prier said nothing. He waited. "Ask Miss Webb how long she was away from home " Are there unexplainable coincidences in mental action which no law can cover? Do the same causes bring about the same results In the world of mind as well as In the world of matter? Does the same knowledge express Itself In the same words, again and again and again? These were the questions Prler was asking himself? these and the question as to who knew as much or more than Kane?in the eloquent pause the latter made. "And then," continued Kane, "tell me that Senn is Innocent?if you can?if you dare. I have no doubt Aldrich believes he is. But I?I have no doubt he is as guilty a man as ever went unhung." Prler rose. He must go home. He must get away by himself to think. "I thank you " he began. "There was a sudden ring at the door bell. "Excuse me a moment," said Mr. Kane; "you remember I must be my own servant. You may find something to interest you in the album yonder. There are few Boomville faces, for I have been here but a short time, but " And the rest w'as lost In the opening and closing of the door. Prier picked up the album. You have all seen albums much like it. Weak faces?so weak that one wonders whether they are really the pictures of actual sane human beings; strong faces?denoting all the virtues and powers and aspirations which need only opportunity to be generals? statesmen?poets; baby faces; aged faces; the faces of those strong and vigorous still; the faces of those whose shadows lie in the sunshine on earthly hills no longer: the faces of the homely; the faces of the beautiful; the faces tUo ??i nit: iuu , uic "The devil!" said Mr. Prier, suddenly, as he turned over the pages of Mr. Kane's album. I regret having to write it. Rut he said it. Palling from the lips of one who had studied for the ministry, and who was possibly half regretful that he had found his work in life elsewhere, it could not but sound unpleasant and inconsistent. And inconsistent too, it seemed, when connected with that which had certainly prompted it?the photograph of a woman?of a very beautiful woman ?of a woman with a smile upon her lips?and with a face so finely copied by the sun that it seemed almost ready to speak?the picture of Lurline Bannottio! To be Continued. Talked to tiif. Wroxo Max.?One day an important looking gentleman took a seat besides a quiet mun in an Arkansas railway carriage and began a conversation. "I'm going, up to Little Rock." he said, "to get a pardon for a convicted thief. I'm not personally acquainted with the governor, but lie can't afford to refuse me." "Is the fellow guilty?" asked the man. "Of course he is. Rut that makes no difference. HJs friends have agreed to give me $500 if 1 get him out, and the thermometer is very low when I can't put up a good talk. Where are you traveling?" "Going to Little Rock." "Do you live there?" "Yes." "Perhaps you might be of some service to me. What business are you in?" "I am the governor."?St. Louis Republic. 3UisfclIaurou$ ^radini). LOST OPPORTUNITIES. The Aggressive Man Lectures His Threadbare Friend. The rather threadbare man smiled sadly. "I haven't any particular complaint to make." he said. "I think I have done pretty well, considering my opportunities. I've a large family, you know, and that makes a difference." The aggressive looking man with the massive gold watch chain, said, "Pooh!" explosively. "Opportunity," he growled. "What are you talking about? You've had as much opporty as I have and more too. I've got a family haven't I? Certainly I have. No, my friend, that isn't the trouble. The trouble is that you haven't taken advantage of your opportunities. When opportunity came knocking at your door you didn't hear her. You thought she would come with a club and pound, or jimmy her way through the window and hunt ,l 1177*11 yuu up UIIU Sll <111 jruui" Mice. 11 til, she doesn't do that. She's too much of a lady. If you want to embrace her that's all right, but she isn't going to do the embracing herself. Whenever she's been around to see me I've been watching at the keyhole and I've had her yanked Inside before she got a chance to see whether she'd got the right number." "It seems to me that's rather ardent, behavior Isn't it?" "Xot a bit of It said the aggressive looking man. "It's the way she likes to be treated. Make the most of her and be sure to tell her to call again. Talk about opportunity! Wasn't Bondson living within half a mile of you when you were a young man, and didn't he have a girl who was good enough for anybody? I remember your telling me about her. She .got a million and a half under the old man's will when he died last year. There was your opportunity but you did not see it, did you?" "Well, no," admited the threadbare man. "I can't say that I did. I didn't know her, you know. I suppose I might have sent in my card and proposed." "You could have worked it all right, just the same," said the aggressive looking man. "You knew her brother and you were a pretty good looking boy?and you dressed well In those days. All you needed was nerve. If I'd have been the ladies' man you were I'd have tried It, I know that. There's that suburb you're living in. J When you bought your lot why didn't you buy three or four acres? You'd have been independent today if you had." "I hadn't the money to begin with," said the threadbare man. "That's no excuse. You could have got some options any way." "I suppose I could." '"And when I wanted you to take that appointment on the board of works you wouldn't do It. It wasn't a great deal, but you could have got a stand-in with some of the big guns and got a good thing sooner or later. Politics is all right when you know the game and get on the Inside. You had a good chance there. The man who took that job I wanted you ?to take is drawing his $5,000 a year right along now, to say nothing of what he makes on the side." "I've had others, if I could think of them," said the threadbare man. "If I had bought wheat at the right I time and sold at the right time I might have been rich a dozen times over. I've fiad opportunities of that kind every day. I might have worked my way out to Alaska and got in before the big rush if my foresight had been as good as your hindsight is. I had an opportunity to help you out of a hole once, if you recollect, and I've been wanting an opportunity to see you for a week. Xow if you could?" "Excuse me," said the aggressivelooking man. "there's a fellow in the car ahead I want to talk to a minute. See you later."'?unicago .-sews. AN EGYPTIAN QUEEN'S JEWELS. Rings and Chains Once Owned by Tausert Found In a Tomb Near Thebes. Theodore M. Davis* excavations In the Valley of the Tombs of the kind's at Thebes have again been rewarded by the discovery of royal treasure. In a chamber cut out of the rock at the bottom of a shaft some thirty feet deep he and his assistant. Mr. Ayrton. I have discovered the jewelry of Queen Ta-useit, the granddaughter of Rameses II and the last sovereign of the nineteenth dynasty. The chamber was filled with clay washed into it before the entrance to the shaft had been closed, and concealed by the fallen debris of the cliff above, and in the course of centuries the clay had become almost as hard as stone. The work of extracting the jewels that were embedded in it has consequently been long and arduous. more especially as they were strewn In different directions. The tomb, it would seem, was originally that of some private individual, and the jewels must have been removed from the queen's own tomb and thrown into it for some unknown reason. Probably they were at the time in a wooden box, which has now perished. The inscriptions on some of the jewelry make it clear that Ta-usert was married to Seti II., the grandson of Rameses II., some of the objects, in fact belonged to that Pharaoh. Two large golden epaulets, for example, bear the king's name, and are formed of poppy heads hanging from a plate which itself hangs from a golden bar, or rather screw. At the two ends of this latter are a rosette and a blossom of globular shape, which are screwed on to the bar. Then again there is a pair of silver bracelets on which is a representation of Seti on his throne with a fly whisk in his hand, while the queen stands in front of him. They appear to be pledging one another in wine cups, and behind each is a bouquet of flowers. A great number of gold rosettes have also been discovered inscribed with the names of both king and queen. They were probably attached to a dress, since a stud of gold with a hook has been passed through the centre of each. The cartouches of Seti are further found on six plaques of gold which formed part of a pectoral, and there is a large gold ring with the vulture goddess Inlaid In precious stones and surmounted by the symbol of the sun god. which also has upon it the name of Seti, and must therefore have been the signet of that monarch. Another ring, which is an exquisite product of art, consists of open gold work forming the name and titles of Rameses II. We must thus see in it an heir loom of the "Pharaoh of the Oppression." All the other jewels belonged toTausert. Among them are some hundreds of openwork balls and pendant poppy heads, which were strung alternately on a series of threads so as to form a pectoral, which, as everything is of solid gold, must have been of considerable weight. There are no less than seven finger rings of various sizes and all of gold. Three of them are set with scarabs containing the queen's name, two of them consist of double rings supporting the royal cartouches while one very beautiful one Is formed of four strands of gold wire, the chaton consisting of an inlay of eight precious stones. Along with the rings were several gold bracelets, two of such small size that they must have been intended for tlie queen when a child; around the edges of two others runs a line of minute bead work. Besides the queen's own earrings four so-called "mummy earrings" have been discovered; one of these is of silver, and another, which is of gold, is inlaid with the cartouche of the queen. Among other gold ornaments are sacred eyes; small figures of Seti, Apis and the hippopotamus goddesses. flies, flowers, lions and poppy heads, which must once have been attached to a chain, as well as two or three similar objects or silver. The golden circlet of the queen's crown has also been discovered, and a unique object is a pair of silver gloves for the hands of the mummy. SeveraJ cnmeliun amulets have, moreover, been brought to light, together with some exquisite little lotus flowers in blue faience which fit Into miniature vases of electron. THE BOOK AUCTIONEER'S STORY. Told Before Asking His Auditors to Bid on a Copy of the Bible. He had Just sold a copy of Robert Q. ingersoll's lectures, forty-eight lectures bound in one volume, and now, turning to the shelves at his back, the auctioneer took down, as the book he would ofTer next, a copy of the Bible. But before inviting bids upon it, he talked about it briefly. This was a copy bound in flexible morocco, gilt edged over red, and It contained a concordance. And then for a moment he spoke of the Bible itself, telling what the Old Testament contained and what the New, and how for ages it had been the guide and comfort of mllllojis. There were some who ? a 1- I- iUA n^At. W..? AvtAM fhAon plCKtru Iiuwn in me Duun, uui even u?c?o trusted those who believed In It and followed Its teachings. And then the auctioneer told a little story: "A man," he said, "who was traveling In a remote and sparsely settled part of the country, found himself overtaken by nightfall at an isolated farm house. It was not the most inviting looking place In the world, but It was there or nowhere for him, and so he knocked on the door and asked if he might stay there for the night, and the farmer said he could. "So he went in, and the farmer and his wife gave him supper, and after a time he was ready to go to bed. "And as a matter of fact the traveler was troubled in his mind, as he had been for that matter from the moment he saw the farmer This was a remote and lonely spot, and the farmer was a tall, gaunt, silent man with a furrowed face, and he and his wife were all the people in the household. And as the traveler dwelt again upon how far away he was, and upon the gaunt, silent farmer, he recalled ail the stories he had read of men who had been murdered and robbed in just such out-of-the-way places, and as the time came for retiring his fears increased, and when the farmer showed him at last to his room the traveler was much troubled, and he prepared for a sleepless and watchful night, and to defend himself the best he could if need be. "He barricaded the door with all the movable furniture In the room for one precaution and he didn't disrobe himself, for he wasn't going to bed; he was going to sit up all night and watch, and when he had made all his preparations he put out his light and sat down to keep guard for the night. "MIS own 11(1111. UUl, IIIC Uttvcici aon a little beam ->f light coming into his room through a crack in the wall on the shle toward the room where he had left the farmer and his wife, and to be sure he pretty soon had his eye to that crack to see what they were doing, and there he saw them, the farmer sitting on one side and his wife on the other of the table, and both silent. "Rut presently the traveler saw the old man get up and go to a shelf and i take down a big book, which he laid upon the table and opened. And, bending over the book, the farmer read from it aloud a chapter from the Bible. And the reading finished he closed the book, and then the farmer and his wife knelt at their chairs and the stern faced man prayed. "And then the traveler, his fears all gone, took down the barricade from the door and went to bed to sleep peacefully and refreshingly, for he knew I that there or anywhere under the roof of those who believed in the Bible and i lived according to its precepts, he was safe from all harm." The auctioneer paused, and for a moment the room was still, and then the [auctioneer spoke again, saying this I time, as he held the book in his hand up into view: "Gentlemen, how much am I bid for the Bible?"?News and Courier. JtiT Cannes, the perfume making town of southern France, smells so powerfully of flowers In the busy season that visitors are often afflicted with flower headache. X* The English Duke of Rutland has the walls of one of his castles adorned with thousands of horseshoes the collection having been begun centuries ago Among them is a shoe given by Queen Elizabeth and another by Queen Victoria. WHALING IN THE MOUNTAINS. Fossils Found In Southern California Hills. Directly back of the old mission of San Juan, Cal.p In a quiet, out of the way region which Is still asleep, there is some very good quail shooting. In following the birds a sportsman came across a man at work on the side of a cliff with a pickaxe. He was not a gold miner, that was evident, as he had no washer, but he had worked out a big round object which resembled more than anything else a seat. "I'm a whaler," he answered with a grin to a question. "Sure; look at that," and he indicated the round object. "Piece of a whale's backbone, ain't it? and the whole critter lies here, 1,800 feet above the ocean. The weather, rains, wash them out; they roll down the mountain side and I trace them up. It's Just as exciting as whaling at sea, and then I don't have to divy with the whole crew. "What are they good for? I sell them to museums If I can, and if I can't do that I grind them up and make phosphates out of them. It's mighty hard to get a perfect whale. Some died a natural death in lagoons, and of course they were eaten up and the bones hauled about and separated; but most of these mountain whales were bagged when the whole coast went into the air. I'm not a geologist, so you can take It for what \ it is worth, but It's my opinion that the entire coast mountains were lifted with a rush; there was an awful cciruiquaAC ctuu a on ip ul ianu uia?. had been under water for miles off shore was tossed upward and the coast range made. Of course everything went with It, and hundreds of whales found themselves on tops of mountains with the water rolling back to the west. In some places there must have been twenty miles of sea bottom exposed. That's what happened at Los Angeles. One of the best whales I ever saw was caught when the ground Los Angeles rests on was shot up, and that Is twenty miles from the nearest water today. "The Lo?* Angeles whale was found when the .mil vas made through First street. The stu /ent directly back of a wl lie. so they got all the%middle vertebrae, but the head and tale are under valuable houses. The animal was lying on its side. "I've found the remains of half a dozen whales within ten miles along this range, and the place has been skimmed of all Its surface bones a long time ago. At many ranches you will find these sections of vertebrae, which the old timers used as seats, and when they could get the jaw bones they set them up ror gate posis. "This hunting Is an easy Job, as the bones are mostly weathei^ed out. I found one in Venturo county lying right along the hillside showing almost its entire length. I got hold of it in a curious way. I met a man in the mountains and we got to talking about trees. He said he knew where there was a fossil tree in plain sight, at least sixty feet long. I offered to pay him to show me the tree, and after a pretty long hunt we came upon it, and I quickly saw that, it was a whale, and the finest one I ever saw. But it was so soft I couldn't use It, and it's there yet if it isn't ground up by the fall of soil." "This is a curious country," continued the mountain whaler, "and if I should tell you all the animals I have landed in my travels in these mountains you wouldn't believe it. I can tell you of one. I found an elephant, a cousin to the mammoth, an elephant as big as old Jumbo, and bigger too, that used to live here in the old days. Another was found when they put through the Santa Fe road to San Diego. I saw it dug out, but the bones were crushed to powder. Some cf the tusks and teeth were sent to the University of California museum. It was easy to see how the elephant happened to be there. He had stepped into a quicksand and was literally swallowed up. The qulcksand was then In a stream, but the place In which they found the elephant was twenty or thirty feet above the present bed of the cliff, showing that It was thousands of years ago that the big tusker had stepped into the sand. 'This mountain range looks out on a real whaling station of years ago. The whalers established their headquarters at the Bend, and a little town soon grew up. The whalers had a system of observations on the cliff by which they directed the boats, and for years a notable whaling business was carried on. The men who followed the whales literally took their lives In their hands. An old whaler once said to n.e: 'I belonged to the Portugese Bend outfit and considered myself what they call down south a right smart whaler. I whaled In the old New Bedford fleet and was put ashore here sick, and I liked the country so much that I stayed by it. Now, whaling Is dangerous business anyway, but it's just almost nothing compared to this California gray. You see, they are a long thin fish, lively as a grasshopper, and of all the whales the gamest. I found that out when when we run Into the gulf of California, that's where the California gray whales calf. We fastened up to a small one first and were smashed by Via rinm whn ran us down: and every boat that was out was chased by this fish, so we finally gave it up. There were a good many graves in those days alongshore of men who had been killed by these whales. When I Joined the Portuguese Bend fishermen I found that they were afraid of the whales, but they kept at the business until so many things got smashed that it didn't pay." This is virtually the cause of the decline of the whale fishing In southern California waters. The whalebone is very limited in the gray whale, and either it or the oil is not valuable enough to take the risk of following the whales. When struck the gray whale sounds to a great depth, then starts off towing boat or boats to a great distance, appearing to have extraordinary vitality; and crews have been towed so far out to sea by them that the whalers had to take refuge , on the islands from twenty to sixty .. ' L # Z. miles off shore. The fishery has been * }' ' closed many years, and as a result the whales have increased in such numbers that In summer the dally steamer frequently sights several. V