Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 10, 1908, Image 1
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^ 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.
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' THE m
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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.