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?__??^^__?^????^???i????.??1?? ^ ISSUED SBMI-WEEKL^^ l. M grist s SONS. Publishers. } % Ifamilg Jteu-spaper: .^or the promotion of the fotitiijat, Social. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the people. { ters?*ole'2Spt,?ve iLAT?VANCI! established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., FRIDAY, APRIL 10, 1908. N"Q. 29. > ill hi m tn nii>Li>u>Li>L?un ' THE m \ m 1 t I By CLARENCE | wfwwunim'wnirwimfiwwmi* CHAPTER XVII. Matilda Webb and Mr. Jahnway. * Where (lid Matilda Webb live? That was the question Mr. Prier asked himself as soon as he had recovered a little from the surprise and emotion caused by his letter from Mr. Jahnway and the astounding' discovery which had followed it. It was easy enough to find out. Miss 4 Webb had sprung into sudden prominence because of her connection with Mi*s. Constance Craig in the days that were gone. Whatever might have been the difficulty of tracing her, after the I- ~ '?Knn ton venrs which inpse "i w>f mole liiuk i>>i # had intervened between the death of her oiioe mistress anil the trial of Gilbert Senn, there was no snoh.difficulty now. Almost any one in Boomville could have directed you to the home of the gentleman in whose household Matilda "Webb was employed, g "Twenty miles due west." said the keeper of the livery stable to whom Mr. Prier went that afternoon. "And you can send a good driver?a fast team?and insure me quick time?" "Certainly. You will start in the morning?" "No: tonight." The owner of the livery stable looked curiously at Mr. Prier. "This isn't going to be a night for pleasure." he said: "the cold will be intense: the wind will cut like a knife: the " "The occasion is one of necessity," interrupted Prier. "Can you have the V team at the hotel immediately after tea ?" "Certainly." "Do so. then, without any delay or failure." The night was a glorious one?to one who enjoyed Nature in her Winter garb, and did not dread the cold. The snow was deep, hut the road was well packed and smooth. The cold was intense: the wind was keen and searching, hut Prier and the driver were well frnm tiip wintrv blasts, and |ri"?vtvu .. had the vigor and courage to enjoy 4 it all. Sometimes the road lay along a high ridge, with slopes of virgin white reaching down into the valleys on either hand?down to the glassy surface of a frozen river on the left?away to the dark forest of evergreen on the right. Sometimes they swept through narrow valleys, huge drifts of snow frowning down upon them with a weird and spectral menace in their white shapelessness and vague unreality. Sometimes their way lay through the heart of pine forests, and the trees, tossing and groaning in the wintry blast, threw down their burdens of powdered snow upon the hurrying traveler. ~ 4 - 1 1?' Kafnrn thPni B AIlll Uirm, c?ri wvtw.v thrown down by the full moon which rode in beauty and majesty in the blue sky far. far away to the east, stretched the shadows they themselves cast? the shadows they carried with them. Shadows on Frier's path! Rmblems of the shadow which lias lain before him for ten ions years! In every life which does not face the light, they must fall. Rut as the moon mounts higher, as the night grows deeper and darker and more silent, as the day that is gone drops further and further into memory, and the glories of the day to be begin to whisper to hope, the shadows shorten? shorten? shorten! Let us thank (Tod for that. Five miles. Frier is anxious and nervous. He has never been in so great a hurry before. He could not tell why. Some calamity seemed impending. He could not tell what. Perhaps he had allowed the events of the last few days?and more espe^ cinlly of the last few hours?to shake his powers?his convictions?his faith. Ten miles! "Hurry." whispered Frier. The driver bowed. He did not understand the need of hurry, though he did not doubt that Flier did. He knew that they were on their way to see Matilda Webb. He knew that she hud testified at the trial of Gilbert Senn. Tie knew that J. R Frier was a detective?the "greet detective" he had heard him admiringly called?and i* probably never entered his brain to attribute such a commonplace quality as doubt to him. His mind had not conceived it possible that God had en* dowed this wonderful man with less than a mysterious and unexplainable infallibility. So he bowed his head, and they hurried. Fifteen miles! Frier drew out his watch. He nodded his head .approvingly. "You've done well in the last five miles." he said: "I have five dollars for you if you do the next five in less time." The horses were beginning to show signs of weariness. The road was becoming rougher. Clouds were darkening the sky. ^ I hit the driver bowed again. He spoke cheerfully, but commandingly, to his well-trained team. The speed increased. For Frier had closed his driver's mouth with the one final and unant swerable argument which has survived all the forgotten nations of antiquity, and is spoken in all the languages which have existed since Babel. The argument which gives energy to weariness? the argument which makes the rough smooth?the argument which lightens darkness?the argument by which ugliness conquers beauty, ambition overcomes right, and craft coerces 0 honor- the argument of Money! < m and on and on. Swifter and swifter, though the road grew rougher ami the night darker. On, until They dashed round a curve in the ^ road, and up a hill from out the valley in which the last two miles or more of their ride had been. "We shall see Brown's house in a minute " began the driver. aiktujikiikiiktiLiiLnyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii m ! JTSIDK! BOUTELLE. mnwnnwmnufwtm in mm iu i And then they saw it! A pillar of smoke-capi?ed flame swayed and swung in the gale of night to a height of twenty feet above its roof. Every window had a fiery banner, shaking defiantly in the icy wind. And even as they looked, the roof went down, the walls crumbled into a fantastic shapelessness, and a torrent of sparks and brands rose heavenward as though exulting in the triumph of ruin over man. The sleigh dashed into the grounds, and up to a group who stood in frantic inactivity not far from the fierce fire dancing devilishly over that which had been a happy home less than a half hour before. ' lias any one " began Prier. Ml* Rrnwii Iniri'ie.l to meet him. and grasped his hand. "It was so sudden," he said, "that ?.n?- of the children was forgotten The mother supposed I* had him: ) supposed he was with her; the girl discovered the truth first, and " "Who? Miss Webb?" "Miss Webb: and she brought him out in safety. But I guess she has given her own life for him. If we only had a doctor ' Prier sprang out of the sleigh. "Here." he cried to the driver; "you go for the nearest physician, and go quickly. I'll pay for the horses if necessary: "don't you spare them." The driver, well acquainted all through the country thereabouts, and happily a man who had learned to obey orders without stopping to question them, drove rapidly away. Prier ran to the weeping group not far away. "I studied medicine once," he said; "several years before I became a detective. and I guess I would find myself a pretty fair physician today." He knelt down in the snow, close beside the quilt on which they had laid the faithful woman. He raised her hands, burned and blackened, and groaned as he tenderly laid them down again. He looked at her face?a face that one would have been koeneyed indeed to have recognized as that of Matilda Webb, and his eyes filled with the manly flood he could not restrain. He bent over her. and listened long to the laboring lungs fighting for her the battle between life and death. He raised his head. "She is a martyr to duty," he whispered, solemnly, to Mr. Brown, as the latter bent nearer to him to listen. "There is no hope." Low as he had spoken, the woman heard him. She rolled her head a little to one side, to face him. and the shriveled eyelids were raised a little from the eyes which would never see again. ".Are?are you Mr. Prier?" she said, in a whisper. "I am." "I?I?must die, must I not?" "You must die," said Prier. frankly but tenderly. "I?I have one load on my mind which 1 must share with you." she whispered. "1 shall die easier if you know it. 1?I went away on Sunday, r was gone two nights. I had permission to be gone but one. But?Sunday night was so stormy?so stormy?and I thought it would not be necessary to return through the mud and rain of Monday. And yet?and yet?if I had gone home on Monday?Mrs. Craig would not have been killed. You loved her. Mr. Prier. Can you say to me, as I die here, that you forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive. But I will say it if you wish. In the name i?f Constance Craig; I forgive you." "I thank you so much. Mr. Prier, for now I can die happy." "There has never been anything to reproach yourself for. my clear woman; for I have no doubt you would have found your mistress dead on Monday if you had returned on that day. I feel Certain that she was killed on Sunday night." "Do you? Then my absence the second night could have made no difference. But?but " She paused, tired and worn with the effort she had made, but she could not surrender herself to the power of death yet. She spoke again. "Say. then, that you forgive me for not telling my story in the court room. 1 did not guess the need there was foi it. I did not suspect the trick by which the accused would be saved. I?I"? her voice was full of passionate pleading now. but so low that Frier's ear almost touched her lips as he bent down to listen?"I could not bear tn tell the story of my disobedience and neglect, and?and?my head ached so hard?so hard?and I could not be there when the crisis came?and so?" She paused again. "And so there is nothing to forgive though I say again. I forgive you. And so?I say I thank Cod that " '1?I don't understand you." whispered the lips which death was touching with the seal of silence: "I do not understand you. though you have given it to me to die happy. For?surely ?Cilbert?Senn?was " She sooke no more. Prier crossed her burned hands reverently over hei noble heart. Tie rose to his feet. Hei sentence would never be finished b> her lips this side the day when the dear shall be raised. T'rier finished it foi her. "Innocent." he said, solemnly: "Oilbert Senn was innocent I Thank floe; you kept silence." Yes. Mr. I'rier, thank flod! Thanh <Jod for her sake who lies dead at youi feet, dead as a generous and unshrinking martyr to humanity. Than! Cod for <5ilberi Senn's sak<?and foi your own. You have not penetrate! the mystery, but you know that Sent was innocent. Thank (Tod for the silence kept by Matilda Webb. And to you. readers all. men am women with such a hatred for criim and criminals that you count accusation scarcely less than conviction am call circumstantial evidence proof?re member, that though Gilbert Senn was innocent of the murder of Constance Craig, had Matilda Webb gone home one day earlier, or had she told "the truth?the whole truth," in the courtroom. he would have hanged for it. What next? That was the question presented to Mr. Frier. He had seen Matilda Webb laid to rest under the frozen sods, in the shadow of the evergreens, the rocky ledges rising toward heaven at her head, and seeming to keep guard over one so brave as she had proved herself to be. The frost 11 locket! brook murmurea arowsny through the wintry silence not far away, a protest against the season - which symbolizes death?a promise of the springtime which promises the resurrection. He had turned away regretfully. He had gone away slowly. And then. The question came home to him with great force. What next? "Jasper Jahnway," said the detective to himself. He read Jahnway's letter over again. It was a strange one, an uninviting one. a harsh and roughly expressed one. Well, what of it? He would go and see this gentleman. He would intrude himself upon him, if intrusion it could be called. "I am a better judge than he is," he said to himself, "of the question regarding his ability to assist me to any more information than he has yet helped me to obtain. I will go to Jasper Jahnway." He went With the fierce impetuosity with which lie greeted every far-off possl bility of success, however, remote, he stopped not to consider any difficulties. The train took him to a station a couple of miles from Jahnway Park. It was dusk when he left the train, and snow was slowly falling?a promise of a severe storm. The sound of the sea was in his ears. Its salty flavor was in the breeze. What if the sky was gray with storm? What if the night was falling fast? There was hope in his heart.| Jasper Jahnway had helped him so much. Was it not likely he could help him still more? He found no carriages at Jahnway Station. The train stopped for only a ha If-minute. The children from the half-dozen houses clustered about the railroad depot looked at Mr. Prier wonderinglv. Kven the older members of the community seemed filled I with surprise. Perhaps it was a very unusual thing for passengers to get off at Jahnway Station. He inquired the way to Jahnway Park. The directions were given with that usual over-use of words which so effectually conceals ideas and clouds the understanding. "Be you a-goin' there tonight?" asked the man who had told him the way. "I am." The man shook his head with an air which he evidently meant should be impressive. "1 wouldn't if I was in your place," he said. "No? Why not?" "Well, none of us folks like Mr. Jahnway; he's different from what the other Jahnways used to be." "In what way?" "In many ways. He doesn't spend money as they used to; he's gloomy and sullen: he's sour and cross and crabbed." * " * - ? f aT \T t% ftir. I'llt'i' iiHiKfii ai ilit- knuv ... ..... Jahnway?looked at him from head to foot, if such a man as the critic found it necessary to say what he had said, it was not likely that Mr. Jahnway would prove to be a pleasant acquaintance. "Well, what else?" asked Mr. Prier. "What else?" growled the man. "I should think that was enough. But tastes differ. If you don't think so, I'll tell you something else." "You evidently want to tell it." said Mr. Prier, with a smile, "and I am willing to listen." "Keep civil, old fellow," said the man. surlily, "or you may get into trouble." "I beg your pardon; I mean no offense." "No, I s'pose not. But I'm as good as anybody, and 1 don't allow any insinuations where I am." "All right, flo on with your story." "I will, when I get ready." "flood night," said Prier. quietly, turning away and walking rapidly in the direction the man had indicated. He had not gone a dozen steps before the man laid his hand on his arm. "Look here," said the fellow, roughly; "are you a-goin' to listen to what 1 have to tell, or shall I make you listen?" "I guess you won't have to make me listen," responded Prier. stopping at once and appearing to he very patient. The man laughed. "You're not so big a fool as you 1 look." he said, pleasantly?pleasantly for him. "I hope not." The man laughed again. "No. And you're not so bad a fel' low after all, I do believe. I haven't ' Lightened you much, have I?" 1 "Not very much," said Prier. ' "Because, when a man hasn't got any fight at all in him, I hate to frighten him. You're not much a fighter, > are you?" ' "I don't enjoy getting hurt." admitted Prier. vii jori,i- i ivnn't hurt vou. and 1 \v<?n't l?'t any one else hurt you, and when Patsy fJullens Rives his word, ' Patsy (Tullens keeps it." ' "So this is Mr. CJullens, is it?" asked Prier. ' The fellow extended his hand. Tie Rave Frier's a hearty shake. "You've heard of me, have you?" he asked, with an accent of pride. ' "Well. I don't much wonder. I Ruess you'll learn that I am the boss of tlie hovs around Jnhnway Station." "I presume so. And now, I came up I here on purpose to learn something ahout Jasper Jaluiway. Will you please ; he so kind, Mr. Cullens, as to tell me ' all you can ahout him?" "Well, rich as he is, he'd rather : hunk on the floor than sleep in a bed. r Does it ever so many nights, so the I servants up to the park say." i "Indeed?" "And then he's such an aristocratic and exclusive sort of fellow. He hires 1 his servants from elsewhere, as though 1 the men and women of Jahnway Sta tion ain't good enough for him. Only I the other day he hired a man?a pri vate secretary I think they say he calls l:iin, though what he wants of a private secretary I'm sure I don't know ?and no one here ever saw or heard of the new man." "Mr. Jahnway seems to be an independent sort of man?" "I should say so. Most everybody around here dislikes him, though they're generally a little hit afraid of him. To tell the truth," lowering his voice to a whisper, and coming nearer to Prier, "I am a little afraid of him myself." "Is it possible?" asked Prier. "Yes. I don't wonder you are astonished. P.ut we've found out that he followed the sea for a good many years, and we've got a sort of notion that he used to be a pirate. And it wouldn't do to get a pirate down on you. you know, for there's no telling what lie might take it into his head to do. Do you see?" "I sec. Well, what else can you tell me about Mr. Jahnway?" "Nothing." "Nothing? I thank you for your information. And now I must be going." "Going? You ain't going out to Jahnway Park?" inl v "Rut I told you not to go." "That makes no difference to me." "Have you forgotten that I am Patsy Mullens?" "1 recognize the fact that you are Mr. Mullens." "And I've told you the sort of fellow Jasper Jahnway is." "Ves, and for that 1 thank you. I came up here to see Mr. Jahnway, and I am going to see him. I am glad to get any information regarding him, no matter how unlikely its accuracy or questionable its source. If it had net been for that, do you suppose I would have wasted my time here with you?" "Wasted your time, is it? Your time must be very valuable, mustn't it? said the man, with a threatening sneer; "what business has your honor followed that takes so much of your time?" i "Well," said Prier, quietly, "I've studied several different kinds of " "Studied, have you? I never studied anything in my life, I can tell you." "I don't doubt it," said Prier. you (I Doner not (muni u, iim mijthing else I say. Will you tell me the names of some of the things you've studied?" "Willingly. 1 gave some attention to marksmanship once; had an idea of getting my living by giving exhibitions of my skill; was really a pretty fair shot once; am now a little rusty, as they say, I suppose. Do you see that leaf yonder?" He pointed to a single leaf, clinging to the extremity of a high branch, on a tree some thirty yards away. Gullens bowed. Prier drew his hand out of the pocket into which it had been carelessly thrust for a few minutes. It had a revolver in it. He deliberately raised it. There was a sharp report. And the leaf slowly floated down through the gathering darkness, among the snowflakes which fell in ever-increasing numbers as the night drew on. "Wh?what else?" gasped Gullens. "Well, I studied boxing. Got quite expert, too. Might have been a prizefighter, I suppose, only I wasn't willing to be. Shall I show " Put Gullens had briskly moved aside. "Just at present I am a detective. Cl1111 "And you're going to Jahnway Park?" "I am going up to Jahnway Park, flood night. Air. Gullens." Prier walked rapidly away. "!?1 say, friend," shouted Gullens after him. "it ain't possible Jahnway is really a pirate, is it?" Prier made no answer. A smile flashed over his face, and drifted away, leaving it more sorry and careworn than it had been before. "A farce for an interlude," he said, bitterly; "an act of comedy in the drama of life. And now?now to face the mystery, and take my part in the tragedy again." It was late when Prier reached Jahnway Park. The snow was falling very fast. The wind was rising. The grand old trees in the park were shaking and twisting in the hands of (he viewless forces of the night and the storm. The walk leading up to the front door was full of snow, the neglected accumulations of several severe storms. The old mansion did not show a light at a single window. Its whole aspect was inhospitable and forbidding. It nmnlv nnrl rtpsprfPrl Prier thought for a moment of the interview he hail had with Patsy Gullens. He felt in his pocket to be sure his pistol was convenient and ready in case anything should happen to make its use a necessity. He had no idea that Jahnway was a pirate, or even had been: he knew that the age was not one taking kindly to pirates, and that they did not flourish on American soil. And .vet?he had not been a detective for all the best years of his life without finding much danger; he had learned the lesson that teaches the importance of being always ready?ready for danger?surprise?anything. He went up to the front door. He rang the bell. No answer. He rang the bell again, longer and j more vigorously than before. No answer. He rang a third time?rang with a sturdy persistence which he fancied would impress even the frankly impertinent gentleman who had warned him not to come?rang with an impatience in every motion his hand gave to the jangling boll. And suddenly, much as though some one had been waiting behind the door all the time?for he had heard nothing of the approach of anyone?the door was opened an inch or two. and some one inside asked, roughly: "Who are you?" "A gentleman to see Mr. Jahnway," replied Mr. Prior. "What's your name?" "J. R Prior." At that the door was swung wide open, and the man who had asked the questions stepped hack into the hall to allow Mr. Prior to enter. "Come in," he said, in a voice which was evidently intended to be pleasant, and which would, perhaps, have been cordial had not a long lifetime of sullen brusqueness made a sudden Assumption of genuine cordiality?or even a fair counterfeit of it?impossible; "come in. You are welcome. Mr. Jahnway said you would be sure to come." Mr. Prier entered the hall. The aged servant closed the outer door against the night and storm. He put the heavy bolt into its place with a quick energy that was startling, even to a man with as good nerves as those possessed by Mr. Prier. Instinctively he compared this servitor at Jahnway Park with the bully at Jahnway Station; one had been a man of many words, of empty boasting?the other, well, he had seen little of the other, but he recognized him as a man who would obey orders from one who employed him, no matter what those orders might be?and Mr. Prier, brave and self-sufficient as he usually was, shivered a little; he was almost sorrv he had come. The servant turned and faced him in the hall, holding the tallow candle he carried in such a way as to light the space where I'rier stood, and to keep his own face in shadow. "I've lived at Jahnwuy Park a great many years," he said, with an impressive deiiberateness, "and I never questioned a Jahnway's order, or disobeyed it?and I never shall. I said you were welcome, because Jasper Jahnway said you would be; you are welcome to just what he said you were to have." The servant paused. Mr. Prier spoke: "1 wish to see Mr. Jahnway," lie said. "Mr. Jahnway is not at home," said the servant. "Where has he gone?" "I don't know." "When will he return?" "I don't know." "When did he go?" "1 was directed not to say when, and I never disobey orders?when they are given me by a Jahnway." "You said I was welcome?" "Yes." "Which means that I was expected, I suppose?" "Voc " "And did Mr. Jahnway leave no message for me?" "Oh, yes; he left a message." "Tell me what it is." "I cannot. It is a written message, and I never pry into any one's affairs ?least of all into a Jahnway's." "Give me Mr. Jahnway's letter." j'Not yet. Let Mr. Prier eat first," was Mr. Jahnway's command; "see that 1 lie meal is excellent; see that he eats heartily: and .then?show him to his room and give him the letter. Those are tlie orders, and supper is ready." "And so am I," said Prier. The servant opened one of the many doors opening out of the hall. "Follow me," he said. The supper was excellent. The servant, who stood during the meal, and seemed to anticipate Prier's every want, pressed this and that dish upon the detective's attention with a pointed persistency which showed how literal was his Interpretation of Mr. Jalinway's order that his guest should eat heartily. Prier was hungry; his disappointment at not seeing Mr. Jahnwhy was great, to be sure, but the fact that Jahnway was away removed the need for hurry from his immediate future actions. He was beginning to enjoy the adventure upon which he was engaged; he took pleasure in watching and studying the quaint servant who had been trained to do the bidding of the Jahriways, and wondered whether his strange personality was a reflection of Mr. Jahnway?or of some Jahnway of an older generation. Jahnway being gone, he was in no very great hurry to read the message which had been left for him. So that, all things considered. he did ample justice to the meal. Even the exact and literally obedient servant could not have been less than satisfied when he arose from .1-- .-UI- .hmi-ail \T>. lilt* llllfll*. lilt- >aui o iiunvu Piier tu his room. It was well lighted. It was large and comfortable looking. It was heated by a roaring fire in a huge fireplace on one side. The bed had been opened and thoroughly warmed while the detective had been at supper. There was a bowl of hot punch and a box of cigars on one table, and pens, ink, paper, and latesjt newspapers available at Jahnway's Station, on another. "Good night and pleasant dreams, sir." said the servant; "we breakfast at f> o'clock?never a minute earlier or later?the sleigh will be at the door at just six, to take you to the station. I shall go with you, and see you safely on the train for Boomville. These were Mr. Jahnway's orders, sir. Good night." But?the mesage?" said Mr. Prier. The servant turned back for a moment at the door. "The message is on the table," he said, and shut the door. Mr. Prief was alone?the guest of the man who had given him the confession of the one who had slain his sister. He found the message, a thin letter directed to "Mr. J. B. Brier," but without any other word upon the envelope to indicate how it was to be conveyed to the one for whom it was intended. "No doubt Mr. Jahnway understands his servants," said Mr. Prier, reflectively, "and knows that oral orders are sufficient." He opened and read the'letter: "My Dear Prier: I have no doubt you are as angry as a man can be. I hope you are not addicted to profanity; I assure you the habit is a bad one. I have laughed many times, between the writing of this and the time of your reading it. as I picture in my mind's eye the airs which my stately Philip has put on for your benefit. He carries obedience to a ridiculous extreme, doesn't he? If I were to teli him to cut your throat, at 12 o'clock at night, I feel certain that he would attend to that matter, with a business-like attention and imperturbable gravity, just as the clocks rang out the hour of midnight. I don't know how you'd escape Mm- in fnro T have a strong convic tion that you wouldn't escape him at all. So I hasten to reassure you by informing' you that I've not dedicated you to anything worse than a series of the stately services he knows so well how to render. I am undoubtedly laughing at you as you read this. "Really. Mr. Prier, you had no right to come: I told you not to come; I told you that I hadn't anything more to tell you. You ought to have taken my word for it: and you should have respected my wishes. And yet, I am a good-enough judge of human nature to feel sure that you will come?sure that this letter is not written in vain. Am I not shrewd for so young a man as 1 am? For I am young. I beg you'll not do me the injustice of supposing I had the training of Philip. He is the product of the intellectual ability of a very different sort of Jahnway from what I am. "I am going away. I shall be on the ocean when you read this. Since I inherited the great Jahnway estate I am so fortunate as to own a yacht. So I can go on the sea for pleasure?where I once went for business. And?I am going. "Perhaps you'll think me a strange fellow, going yachting in late February or early March. All right; I don't know that I much care what you think. I've got a snug, warm cabin, well supplied with the creature comforts of this life; I've got a trusty crew; I have a newly employed young man, a sort of companion, I suppose you'd call him?I denominate him my private secretary, because the name sounds well?who came to me under rather strange conditions, and with a peculiar sort of recommendation. I have a natural desire to test the stuff the young fellow is made of, and to do it where he cannot be tampered with nor tempted. I don't know a better place for such a purpose than on a seaworthy yacht in mid-Atlantic. Do you? "And my sea voyage will keep yoq from coming to bore me?and prevent your dragging me into your affairs. It will cool my blood?which is a little inclined, both as a result of inheritance and from experience and habit, to be hot. "And, if anything happens?I've suffered from cold and hunger before, and can do so again. I am willing to be 'the man outside,' for a time. "And last of all, Mr. J. B. Prier, if you've any questions to ask, hunt me up. on the stormy Atlantic, and I'll do my best to answer them. It wouldn't convince me that you really desired information. to have you come to Jahoway Park after it. If you really hunevr and thirst after knowledge, come out and get it. I think I have found just a single little item, since I wrote to you before, which you might like to have. Jasper Jahnway." "P. S.?I must not forget to inform you that I hired my private secretary on your recommendation, and that his name if?Gilbert Senn. J. J." To be Continued. A MILLION A MINUTE. What It Sometimes Costs to Cut Down a Train Schedule. To save a few minutes in the schedule of its trains a railroad is often compelled to spend millions of dollars In improvements. The experts figure r?nf that the New York Central and the Pennsylvania are spending in their big terminal improvements $1,000,000 for each minute saved. According to Moody's Magazine, the Pennsylvania in the last few years has built bridges, bored through mountains, tunnelled rivers and actually blown the heads off five or six mountains to shorten its track and lower its grade. The grand total of expenditures of this one road for these time savings improvements approximates $220,000,Oit<). Between Pittsburg and Philadelphia hardly a mile of the old track remains, and the same can be said of the 10fi mile track between Philadelphia and Harrisburg. About $70,000,000 was spent to lower the grades between the two former cities, saving thereby about ninety minutes in the regular running time, averaging nearly $800,000 for each minute saved. 1 This engineerong feat included the dynamiting of half a dozen mountains, the straightening of tracks and lower" 11 J ?a?v?a 0K4 miloa trig 01 rne graue uvcr sumc .....w The filling of ravines, digging new channels for streams, bridging rivers and tunnelling hills and small mountains were all included in this stupendous and costly task. Likewise between Philadelphia and Harrisburg the time allowance for express trains has been reduced from three hours to one hour and fifty-five minutes at a total cost of something like $13,000,000. This section was the cheapest saving of time on the whole system, averaging only $100,000 a minute. The saving of three minutes to Trenton on the other hand cost over half a million dollars, or about $200,000 a minute. The economy of such huge expenditures appears more in the freight department than in the passenger. Heavy grades and numerous curves are the bane of all good railroad managers. The famous Lucin cutoff on the Southern Pacific Is another instance of costly engineering for the purpose of saving minutes. The old time from Ogden to Lucin has been cut from six to four hours by building a great highway across the Great Salt I^ake. The Lucin cutoff cost millions, and was one of the engineering feats of the century, hut it saved 120 minutes at an approximate cost of $35,000 for each one. But the actual economy appears again more in the freight department than in the passenger. By the old route the freight trains had some short grades to climh of ninety feet to the mile, and frequently three and four powerful locomotives had to haul the train up these steep grades. Today a single engine can take the train across the new highway system at far less expenditure of coal than several could do by the original route. The same road is now engaged in tunneling the Sierras at an approximate cost of $5,000,000 and half as much more in straightening the tracks west of New Orleans. The Santa Fe has also been engaged in this battle of minutes. The Belen cutoff in New Mexico will shorten the line nearly seven miles between Texico and Rio Puerco. but more important than the time, it will avoid climbing some 7.660 miles to cross the Raton Mountain. The grade up the old line is one of the steepest in the country, reaching in many places 185 feet to the mile. The Missouri Pacitic was originally built on about as crooked a line as one could draw on the map. and included in these numerous curves were steep grades that made freight hauling an expensive matter. For five years now the present managers have been pour ?111 ^ fn otnoiirhfon mg millions iiiiu me niic u? iinuiBn^o out tlie curves, cut clown the grades and shorten the route between important points. In this process the cost has often averaged a million dollars a mile, and for each minute gained a cool half million dollars had to be expended. It is estimated by railroad constructors tiiat nearly STfiD.OOO.OOO has been spent in tlie last few years in tunnels, bridges, improved grades and cutoffs for the purpose of saving time and expense. **' The Swiss army will soon include a corps of volunteer motorists. They will have a special uniform, and will be armed with revolvers. After having been in commission for sixty-six years the stage line between Westport and New Bedford, Mass.. has been discontinued, having been usurped by the suburban trolley lines. ittisfdlanrous dLUacliufl. COTTON AND ITS HISTORY. Some Curious Figures That Deeply Concern This Country. More than 3,000 years ago cotton was found growing In India, and Herodotus tells us that the natives called it "tree woolu." He said: "They made clothes of this tree and claimed that It exceeded in beauty and goodness the wool of the sheep." In 1492 Columbus found cotton growing in the West Indies, and It Is certain that cotton came to Jamestown with our fathers in 16j)7, for it was cultivated that year in Virginia. Pickett, in his history of Alabama, tells us that as early as 1728 cotton flourished in I/tulsiana, Mississippi and Alabama. How to separate the cotton from the seed was an Important problem with our fathers, and this tedious task was performed with the fingers. So slow was tlie process that four pounds of tint not- H'wiL' UMS !1S tTlllph AS 3 gOOd hand could do. In 17SS there was great rejoicing In the south when a man In Philadelphia invented a machine for separating seed and lint, and this machine could turn out only ten pounds of lint per day. Not until Ely Whitney of Georgia, invented the saw gin in 1793 was this feature of the cotton problem solved. The first cotton gin operated by any power other than the hand was run by water in Fairfield, S. C., In 1795. For a long time spinning and weaving were done by individuals and families in their homes. They used the little hand carder, the one-thread spinning wheel and the wooden loom. These were followed by the inventions of Cartwright. Wyatt and others, the carding engine, the spinning jenny and the power loom, all run by steam; and the manufacture of cotton became one of the most, important industries in the world. In 1784 we exported from the United States eight bales of cotton to England, and this fiber had been separated from the seed by the hand. At Annapolis, Md., in a political convention. 1786, James Madison of Virginia, the author of the Federal constitution, said In a speech: "The United States will one day become a great cotton producing country." We were then producing 5,000 bales. Mr. Madison's prediction lias come true. The south produces 80 per cent of the world's crop of cotton. This cotton belt is 1,450 miles long from east to west and 500 miles wide, and has in it 448,000,000 acres. In 1880 the amount of capital invested in cotton mills in the south was ,$21,000,000, and today we have invested in this important industry a little over twelve times that amount? $255,000,000. In 1896 New England cotton mills consumed 2,349,478 bales of cotton, and in the same year our southern mills consumed 2,374,225 bales, 25,000 more bales than our northern mills consumed. This is a splendid showing for the south, when you remember that the north has nearly twice as many spindles as we have. There Is one fact, however, connected with both that we applaud, and that Is that both northern and southern mills consumed more cotton than ever before. We are the greatest cotton producing people in the world, with the cheapest and best manufacturing facilities on earth. England leads In exporting cotton foods, and Germany is second in the list; the United. States is third and France is fourth. Last year the United States imported more cotton goods than she sold or exported. England, or the United Kingdom exports every year more yards of cotton cloth than our American mills produce for both hdme %and outside trade. During the calendar year ending December, 1906, the United Kingdom exported cotton manufactures to the value of $484,000,000, and the United States, during the same period, exported cotton manufactures to the value of $52,000,000, and yet we exported twice as much as we did in 1904.?Speech of Congressman Hetlin of Alabama. APRIL FOOL'S DAY. Here Are Theories, Both Grave and Gay, of Its Origin. fA 1/nAti' u'hcn nr whv i>uuuuy ncrmn I*J i\aun TT Iivil v. .. the first of April was set apart as the day of fool making. The custom got a good early start somewhere, for it has spread now to various comers of the earth. Some say that it is a survival of the ancient New Year celebration. New Year's day once came on March 25, and was observed with sundry high jinks lasting eight days and winding up with particular fits of hilarity on the day corresponding with the present first of April. Others say that the origin must be earlier than that, for the custom has existed among the Hindus from time immemorial. With them it was a part of their feast of Huli, which occurred at the time of year now called the first of April. The piece de resistance of the fun at this feast of Huli consisted in sending one's victim on# some utterly absurd errand?sleeveless errands. as the Knglish and Scotch call them, meaning probably a useless and ridiculous specimen of an errand. Another theory is that the first April fool sent on the first of these sleeveless errands was the dove which Noah sent out of the Ark to find what didn't exist just then, namely, dry land. This event occurred on the first day of the Hebrew month corresponding with April, and it is said that Noah made the dove about as tired as later victims of the day had declared themselves to be. In all seriousness the custom Is considered by many to be an odd keeping in memory of the mockery of Christ by the Jews when he was sent from Annas to t'aianhas. from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod and from Herod back to Pilate. This is supposed to have taken place in April. There are various feasts of fools I which are guessed at as the forerun|tiers of All Fools* Day. and some writers, hard put to it to find a theory, say it is simply a general reference to ithe character of April weather, which is so deceitful and changeable that it is always making fools of us, soaking us with rain when we go out in our I tine feathers oud shining ironically upon our raincoats and goloshes when we go in prudent fear of its showers. The French do not call the cheated person an April fool but an April fish or a mackerel; "an Innocent and unsuspicious animal, easily taken." The phrase is probably a reference to the gullibility which takes the bait easily. It is a sure thing that the custom of April fooling was firmly fixed in France early in the seventeenth century. At that time the king, Louis XIII., haji as prisoners in the Chateau of Nancy a prince of Lorraine and his wife. On the first of April the prince arrayed as a workingman and carrying a hod on his shoulder, accompanied by his wife, dressed as a peasant woman carrying a basket, walked calmly out past the guards and through the city gates. Sonic one recognized them and in great excitement announced to the guards that the prince and princess were giving them the slip. The guards were not to be fooled?at least they thought they were not to be. So they laughed, "Ho-ho!" and wagged their heads and said: "Who's an April fish, eh?" and vowed they weren't anyhow. The more the discoverer of the fugitives called on the guard to get busy the louder laughed those wiseacres, finally some one carried the Joke to the commandant, who thought he'd rather be made a fool of one way than another and sent therefore to overhaul the departing pair. But It was too late. The prlneA and his wife had made good their escape and the guards gasped like true April fish clean out of water. In Scotland they call an April fool a gowk and have a cheerful little custom of giving him a so-called important letter to be delivered to some person at a good distance If possible. The letter contains merely this couplet, evidently to be read with the accent on "prlle": On the first of Aprile Hunt the gowk another mile. A word to the wise is sufficient, of course, and the recipient of this communication forthwith encloses the couplet in another envelope, which he addresses to a friend In another quarter and despatches the gowk with it, admonishing the greatest speed possible. So the poor gowk goes on from pillar to post and back again until some one takes pity on him. A few years ago some very well known persons in London were fooled by receiving an official appearing communication reading as follows: Tower of London. Admit the bearer and friend to view the annual ceremony of washing the white lions on Sunday, April 1. Admitted only at the white gate. It is particularly requested that no gratuities be given to the wardens or their assistants. The particular nature of the sleeveless errand on which the victim is sent changes somewhat as the years go by. At least in this country children are not sent for "a pennyworth of pigeon's milk for sore eyes" nor "half a pound of potato sugar," which used to be favorite items with the fool makers in England. But there are those among us who still find excruciating delight in gravely telling a gentleman that there is something on his coat (a button) or with whispered consideration informing a lady that there is something on her face (her nose). As these were already Jokes in good and regular standing a hundred years ago It is time to figure up just how fast the world do move after all. CARAVANS DISAPPEAR. They Are Being Superseded by the Motor and Engine. With the limitless desert we associate the caravan, says Charles Pepper in Scribner. Its mention brings before our mental vision the Image of the long line of humped animals silhouetted In the clear atmosphere and swinging forward with rhythmic if ungraceful motion. We think of these common carriers as in Abraham's time. In western lands the change from burros and the mule pack trains seems natural enough; we should expect that the putting locomotive of the steam railway would follow the trail over the mountains, through gorges and canyons, across valleys, and finally obliterate It. A score of such changing pictures rise before our eyes, and in reading of transportation improvements, the straightening the curves, the lessening of grades, the shortening of routes, we recall how literally the pioneer railroad builders followed the trails. In these days we seldom see a packtrain without wondering how long it will be till the railway line replaces it. Yet how rarely the sight of the caravan causes the same reflection. For ages the camels have wound across the billowy seas of sandy plains; what is there to suggest that they will not continue to carry the commerce of arid regions for ages still to come? First, then, the motor car Is to be reckoned with in the transformation of transportation. It is used by British engineers and military officers in the Soudan. Various Egyptian desert roads are available for it. On the edges of the Sahara long automobile trips are not Infrequent. Some use will develop for passengers, some for mail and probably also for light freight. But it will not supplant the camel caravans or anticipate the railway lines. Its functions have not reached that point, we reel noming incongruous in the sight of the big red motor car, a roadster carrying its load of engineers across the waste stretches of Egypt and the Soudan or the edges of the Sahara, for we associate this vehicle with the personality of its occupants. But the locomotive and the chain of cars are associated with the landscape of the region traversed and the leisurely camels seem much more a part of the regions of drifting sands than do the trailing column of smoke, the fire-spitting engine and the loosely jointed train. J* The average duration of the reign of English monarchs for the last 600 years has been 21 years. tiT No other empire In the world owns so much absolutely useless territory as the British. Banks Land, Prince Albert I-and, Victoria and Baffin Land, with hundreds of other Arctic islands and lands, are at present quite useless.