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ISSUED SEMX-WEEKL^ x.. m. qrist'S sons, publisher., j ? .Jfantilg 3)mwW?': .for the promotion 0)1 the political, Social, ^gricuKnral and ?ommei;cial Interests of the f eogle. }TEI^?kol*kcspy.ynv2 own!* established 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TCTKSDAY, MAY 10, 19081 N"Q. 40. I ill H HI >11 nuiuiuimiiiyitm j t I By CLARENCE i ill win in hi iiwtwwwi Hi hi m CHAPTER XXVIII. Senn's Evidence. Let us go back a little?In our story ?back to Mr. Prier and Gilbert Senn. Let us repeat what these two gentlemen had just said when we left them. "Who killed Constance Craig?" had been Mr. Prier's question. "Elsie Barron Senn!" had been her husband's answer.. Prier gazed at the young man as though he believed him suddenly bereft of his reason. "I?1?I'll be blamed if I don't hang some one," he muttered. "No, Mr. Prier," said Senn, sharply, "1 don't think you will. Remember your promise?my condition. She is my wife." 'She never diti it." "She did." "You are mistaken." "1 am not." "I tell you she did not do it. It is impossible." t?i ton vnn that I saw her do it!" "You saw her do it?" He was thinking of the confession, if so it may be called, which Jasper Jahnway had sent him. He was thinking of the almost incoherent words of madness with which some one?and that some one guilty?had written of the "man outside." "Yes, I saw her do it. I said that before, and I am not in the habit of saying what I do not mean. You believe me, do you not " "I believe that you believe what you have told me?" "Which is the same as saying " "Which is the same as saying that there is seme terrible error to be untangled here. For I know that Klsie Senn is innocent." "You do? How do you know? I say I know she is guilty." "Read that," and Prler took from his pocket the letter which Jahnway had sent him, and handed it to Senn. "To what event does that refer?" asked Mr. Prler, when Senn had finished. "Of course I don't know," said Senn, guardedly, "but there is room for only one opinion. It refers to the murder of Constance Craig-." "It must. There were never two events of so strange and horrible a nature as murder so near alike as these two would be if the murder of Con- j stance Craig were one. and this another. You grant that, do you not?" Senn clasped his hands over his eyes, as though to shut out the horror of something which stood out before him in the galleries of memory. "Grant it? God help me, I must grant it. There never can have been two such devils as the one who did this awful deed. And I." lowering his voice to an awed whisper, "I?you know, I was the man outside!" "Yes. Well. Now tell me this: Is the handwriting of this document dis-I guised or natural?" Senn took up the letter again. "I am no expert " he began. "And I am," interrupted Prier; "I know all that. But I want to know whether our opinions are the same. What do you think?" "I do not think the handwriting is disguised." "No? Good. Nor do I. You are familiar with the handwriting of Mrs. Senn, are you not?" "Not very. I have seen several specimens of it." "Exactly. And were the specimens you have seen written in her ordinary style?" "Undoubtedly." "And were they like this?" "Not in the least." "And yet?the murderer of Constance Craig wrote this?" A sudden terrible thought smote the brain of Gilbert Senn with awful force. He remembered, all at once, where he had seen the same handwriting as had puzzled and baffled him as he gazed upon its beauties and peculiarities on the pages of the fearful confession he had but just read. It was the same hand that had written him the strange letter he had received when in confinement before his trial? the writer of the two was none other than the lifelong friend and companion of the woman he had wedded? the woman he had shut from the vengeance of Mr. Prier behind the shelter of the promise he had exacted?but none the less the woman he had accused. Senn's pity went out to Lurline Bannottie. It must be so terrible to know of such a crime, and to find?or believe ?it duty to conceal it. How long had he known of Elsie's guilt? It seemed a long, long time. And yet?counted in months?it had been very, very short. And Lurline Bannottie, poor Lurline Bannottie, had she known it all these years which had drearily drifted over her and the guilty woman since its commission. He pitied her! How much she must love Elsie Senn! So much that she would have let an innocent man go to the gallows in her place: nay more, so much that she would have helped in a plot to send him there perforce, for had she not Hied to do that very thing? Was not her letter to him designed to keep him from accepting Aldrich's services? Would not Aldrich, had he not been engaged in the trial, have been likely to have hidden himself, and the wounds his love and pride had received, in some distant place until it was all over? Was it not possible that Mrs. Senn?or Miss Bannottie?or both? might have made it necessary or convenient for him to be away, perhaps on some errand they made him believe was their service? And without Aldrich's presence?well. he could not quite bring himself to think calmly, even yet, of what that would have meant for him. But?how much Lurline Bannottie must love Elsie Senn! And how much he pitied her! He could not tell Prier of all this just yet: he could not tell him that another woman had shared her guilt:, secret with Elsie Barron through long iiiyiiiiyiMM iiniiiiiiniiiniiiiyi * BOUTELLE. long years. It was so terrible?so incredible?and he so dreaded doing an injustice to even this mysterious woman on whose face he had never looked. But. into the place of one lurking doubt?a doubt which had troubled him when he had spoken so firmly of Elsie's guilt?had fallen steadfast certainty. There was no doubt now. With the knowledge of the fact that the same one had written the letter he had received in prison, a letter in which ho now saw nothing more than a cruel scheme looking to the forcing of him to deny Aldrich's aid. that had penned the graphic account of the murder he had seen done, came the undoubtlng and unconditioned belief that he had made no mistake regarding Elsie Senn. Rut he could not tell Prler all this, not yet. And so, he made no answer. Prler had waited some seconds. He repeated his question again, repeated it in a little louder tone, a little higher key, and in a manner which was intended to be conclusively argumentative. "And yet?the murderer of Constance Craig wrote this?" he asked. Senn was silent. What could he say? Prier spoke again; the same question; clothed in the same garb of words: "And yet?the murderer of Constance Craig wrote this?" "Yes, unless this is a copy!" cried Gilbert Senn. as he flung the package from him with as much loathing in his look and act and tone as would have been there had the sheets of paper been some venomous reptile instead. A copy! He had spoken the conviction of his soul. To him it was evident?of course it was a copy. A copy! To Prier it was not a conviction; it was a suggestion, and no more; a something to think of and disprove?but never, never, anything to believe. And yet? It made his blood turn cold, and his brain reel beneath its load, and his heart falter at its task. A copy! That would mean that the letter might not be, perhaps could not be, a clew: that would mean that the weary end of all this search had dithdrawn itself further still into the veiled future; that would mean that his verdict of innocence might be false as regarded one?any one?of thoSb in whose favor he had recorded it, in his heart or in his book; it might mean that Gilbert Senn was right, and he wrong; it might mean that he had voluntarily shut himself from the vengeance the hope of which had alone made his life worth living. A copy! It might be. But God forbid. "I?I?you say you saw Mrs. Senn? or Miss Barron as she was then? commit this murder. I am free to confess that the possibility of this being a copy had never occurred to me. and. of course, unless it Is, her guilt is an untenable theory. I?I was a student in physiognomy before I became a detective, and I have not lost all interest in the art of reading the human soul in the face, and " "And it fails?sometimes?does it not ?" "Sometimes it does; not often." "And you think my wife's face says she is innocent?" "It certainly says so." "Then it lies; then this is one of the cases in which your reliance on physiognomy must fail.' "I think not. Are you willing to tell me all I may wish to ask regarding this matter?" "I am." "Fully?" "Yes." "Freely?" "Yes." "Patiently?" "Yes, patiently. Begin, please; you ask your questions?I will answer them." "Vom, well Von cnv von ?n w Miss Barron commit this deed. Did you see her face?" "Not clearly. Her back was toward me. and. though she faced a mirror, the light was poor, there was much moisture on the window through which I looked, and her hair had been disarranged in the struggle and concealed her face from view, and so I know nothing of her features." "Nothing?" "Next to no thing." "You could not identify her. then, as Miss Barron?" "Not positively." "Not well enough to swear to her being the guilty one?" "No." "That settles it. You were mistaken." "I think not. Let me tell you?" "You shall tell me all. But let it he in answer to my questions. Let it be in my own way." "Very well." "I will ask you this. then. Did you suspect Miss Barron that night?" "Certainly not: I had never seen Miss Barron. "Did you suspect her before you married her?" "Yes; I did suspect her before I married her." "Before you proposed for her hand in the strange way you took for doing ' that?" i "No. I have never looked her in the I face until she came into the bank that well-remembered morning when I demanded that she should marry me." "I don't understand that. How did i it happen that you had worked for Mr Barron so long, and yet had never seen his daughter?" "I can scarcely explain it. There is , probably nothing more to say than that 1 it happened so. I worked hard and late; you must remember that I had been promoted from almost the lowest and most menial employment, in , Mr. Barron's bank, to the position of cashier, in the ten years which elapsed ' between the time of Constance Craig's , death and my trial for her murder; all that meant close application, outside of banking hours as well as during the regular hours of business. At first I was not invited to the house of Mr. . Barron, and did not associate with any in their walk in life?their 'set,' to use the word which I believe is common, unless it be that Walter Aldrich, my firm and steadfast friend through all those years, must be classed with them. Later?I was asked, but I did not go. My habits were formed, my associates had been selected; my i friends were made." "Certainly; but how did you spend your time?" "Many evenings I read?read political i economy?read the opinions of the i greatest of men on the subject of fi- < nance?read in the direction of my i growth, my progress, my success." "And at other times?" "At other times I found pleasure in i lonfnrni; anH pnnrprts- manv PVeninETS I spent with Walter Aldrich; and there ] were other friends on whom I called, sometimes." "And so you had never seen Miss Ban-on?" 1 "Never. She and her companion ] were away frequently, and for long i periods at a time. I never saw Miss < Barron, not to see her fairly and face ( to face, until the morning after the ( great bank robbery. Summers at the | lakes, winter In the south, ajid some- \ times whole years at a time in Europe < ?for them, help account for what I ( have said." I "And Mr. Barron, did he go with them?" ? "Toward the last, yes. I had become so trusted that he felt he could leave me." "And yet " < "And yet?nothing! Do you not understand, Mr. Prier, that I am an hon- | orable man? Do you not know that I t am innocent of the robbery of the . man who had trusted me?" "I believe you?but you married Elsie Barron?" i "Yes." "And some one robbed the bank?" "Yes." ? A *\A t*Aii on l/l t'An /lirl it / mill JUU CUIU J VW \II\I a v , "Yes." "And?and " "And some one killed Constance Craig. Mr. Prier, I will stake my soul's salvation on the assertion that she who did the one?did the other." "How do you know?" "I saw her do it." "But?you had called on Walter Aidrich that evening-?" "Yes." "And remained late?" "Yes." "And afterward you?I say, Gilbert Senn, was one of the others on whom you sometimes called a sweetheart?" "No; I had no sweetheart; I never had; I never shall have. I simply felt worried and uneasy; I walked down toward the bank; a woman came out as I turned the corner. Her veil was down, but she did not seem to be especially anxious to avoid observation; I mean by that that she did not act watchful and timid and suspicious." "Did she see you?" "I think not." "And you followed her?" "I did." "What did you see?" "I saw her conceal a tin box." "In the first place to which you led us?" "Yes." , "And then?" . < ' And then I followed her home." ( "And where did she go? In God's j name, where did she go?" "She went to Mr. Barron's house. | She quietly let herself in. You see she was at home there." < "I confess it looks like it. What did you do after that?" "I went and changed the hiding- ( place of the money." "And then?" s I "And then I went home, and to bed." "And rested?" "After a time." "You have excellent nerves?though | this is not the only instance in which ] you have illustrated that fact. Real- | ly, I congratulate you." "Thank you." "And you went nowhere else than to ; Walter Aldrich's that night, except as you followed the woman who rob- ; bed the bank?" "Nowhere else. I don't understand why you are so persistent. I had no sweetheart. I never paid attention to any young lady in Boomville. If I had loved any woman, I could never tiflvp Hone what I did " "I should think not." "Even to?to?" "Well, to what?" "I had rather not say what?" "You must." "Hut I do not wish to boast." "I will excuse any egotism I may find in your answer. Why was it that you married Elsie Barron?" "To save Walter Aid rich." "What?" cried Prier, springing to his feet. "To save my friend from the disgrace of marrying the manner of woman she had shown herself to be." "A murderer, you mean?" "Not yet: I only knew her for a thief, then." "And that is why you married her?" "It is." "Your only reason?" "My only reason: I swear it; so help me Clod." Prier held out his hand and grasped Senn's warmly. "God did not make many men such heroes as you," he said; "surely He will reward you for all your have done." "In another world, perhaps," said Senn. sadly; "but we must neither of us forget that so far as this world is concerned I am "the man outside'!" "Possibly. But I hope for excellent things for you." "Thank you. But let us not stop to discuss them: I am getting tired: let us confine ourselves to the questions you wish to ask. and to the answers I must give them." "Very well. You demanded the hand of Klsie Barron for the reason you have stated: will you tell me why you think she married you?" "Because she was certain that I knew her secret; perhaps because she found that the hidden money had been taken and concealed a second time; but most of all. because she feared?she knew not what?and dared not do otherwise." "You read it so?do you?" "Yes: I read it so. How do you read it?" Frier's head fell forward. He was a very dejected-looking man. just then, and a very old-looking one. "God help me," he said, slowly, "I do v not know how to read It. I thought d she married you to save her father. t< Are?are you sure?" si "I am sure. Only Mr. Barron and n his daughter and myself knew " h "Wait!" cried Prier; "you say you v> had never seen Miss Barron. Did she S never come to the bank?" a "Never. Never during business hours, at least." " a "And yet she knew .how to open the h safe?" u "Yes." n "Why?" g "Because her father was foolishly n sentimental about her, and felt that " ^he must be intrusted with all that e' other and wiser men would have kept to themselves. Yes, Mr. Prier, only y we three knew how to open the safe. Vou do not think Mr. Barron opened it, do you?" . | "I?I don't know what to think. No, [ think he didn't." "Nor that I did?" "I know you didn't." VI "Thank you," said Senn, who noticed the change .in the word; "and now, [ saw a woman leave the bank, hide the money, and go home to Barron's >wn home;' and then, the morning she :ame to the bank she wore the very Iress she had on the night of the robsi aery- I did not see her face that night, tor she had her veil down; but I am certain about the dress. I am willing ;o take oath to that. Ate you satisled?" * til "It seems like the height of stupid Uubbornness not to be, but " g "But you are not?" fll "No, Gilbert Senn, I am not." . HI "Do you see any clew to anything ilse?" "No, not yet. But let us go back to the murder. Let us And the connecr< tion between that and the later event ?if we can." ""Agreed. What shall I tell you?" 01 "The evidence given at your trial? vas it substantially true?" "As regards myself, yes." "You were a tramp?" Q] "I suppose I should have been called ^ me. I had been sick and unfortunate. [ had lost the position I had held. I lad no money?none of any account? | ind yet I was homesick for a sight of w :he green hills around my boyhood's lome. I had no friends?and yet I ^ lould not try for more work, daytimes, iceause the old home was drawing me toward Itself. I could not sleep nights, tor my sleep was haunted with dreams K if that lost heaven of my childhood's lays. And so I turned my face that vay one weary, wretched day, and darted. I can never tell how long the w journey took; how I scorched and froze ^ 3y turns; how I wearied by the way- )(i side; how I starved; I?I cannot bear it, Mr. Prier, so let us leave all that )ut. Yes, I was a tramp." "The statement regarding your ring, :he borrowed money, your going out into the country away from the rail?oad?I suppose they were all true?" "They were." "Will you tell me why you went into he country?" ^ "Because I had almost given up the .dea of getting home without help. I felt that I must find work again. And [ expected to find more charity there than in the little towns along the road." * "When was the murder committed?" "The night of the storm; one night earlier than was assumed at my trial; ^ ?arly enough to still leave me under suspicion, if you?and the world? , .. si please. si "But I don t please. I know you are innocent." ' ft'lUUIUU, VVfUIJ llllirtl Hill P urrn c,.r<ent two nights." "Yes, she was." "And the murder occurred the first one of the two." . si "I see. How did you happen to be there?" "Well, I lost my ring." "Lost your ring?" "Yes. And I almost felt that In doing so I had lost my luck, poor as that luck had been. I was down on my knees, in a sheltered nook through which I remembered to have passed not long before I missed the ring, searching, in the darkness, when the woman passed me. I did not see her face, but something in her every motion impressed rne. I felt that she ' meditated evil of some kind. I fol- ' H lowed her." "You saw her enter Mrs. Craig's house?" ] "I saw her enter the house which I now know was Mrs. Craig's. "What then?" * "I saw, by her light, that she was ^ searching the rooms. I came nearer ^ and nearer. I knew when she went ^ into the last room of all." "And then?" "I climbed up upon the balcony beneath the window. It was perilous, in many respects; I had no business to be there; It would go hard with me to be caught there; but those were not u the only dangers. I ran the risk of my life, climbing there in the thick darkness; sometimes my foot slipped., . my weak hold gave way, and I was almost gone. But I was successful at ^ last, and drew myself, tired and panting, up to the very edge of the balcony. I think that even then I should ^ have eriven un. and have fallen back to the ground again, had not what I ^ saw nerved me to fresh exertions." e "Merciful God!" groaned Prier; "what did you see?" "I saw It all." "All?" "All. The windows opened almost to the floor; I fought with slippery railings and trailing vines, with weakness and darkness and horror, for my own life, while your sister fought vainly with her assailant for hers. I saw all ?all; all, from the moment when the sleeper awoke from the trusting slumber of innocence to the moment when the devil who had slain her lifted the pillow from the face which had on it the seal of the sleep that knows no waking." "How long was this?" "I do not know; some minutes." "And you could have given no asn sistance?" c "None. By the time I could do more than help myself all need for aid was over. The murder was done." "Why did you not give the alarm?" "That was my first impluse. Then I remembered my situation. I was a tramp?a vagrant?an outcast, a stranger and a man to be watched and distrusted. I was where T had had no right to go. I had seen that to which only an unreasonable and unexplaina- p hie suspicion could have led me. The roman in the house was dead?dead? ead! She could never open her lips a tell the truth. Suppose I were to pring into the room and denounce the lurderer? Suppose, in turn, I found er a trusted friend of the one toward rhom her treachery had broken forth? uppose she was exalted high above ny suspicion of sin or scheming in tie opinions of those who knew her? nd who had known the dead?but who ad never known me? Suppose she iced me with the same devilish coolest with which she had taken the uiU of Cain upon her soul, and told le and all men that I was a liar?a ar and worse? Suppose she denounci me?" "I see your situation; I appreciate our thoughts. What did you do?" "I watched." "For what?" "For sorpe means which would make to Identity of the guilty woman a ?rtainty." "And you found none?" "I found none. I have already told ou of the mirror, the rain-washed anes of glass, and the disheveled hair r the flend whose work I had seen." "But you saw something. You would ot be so sure of the guilt of Miss iarron if you had not seen someling. Dresses, in the possession of jch women as she do not last ten pars. WThat did you see?" "I saw my ring on her finger. She ad found what I had lost. You pleki it up, so you tell me, in the bank fter the robbery. I " "But you cannot think that Mrs. enn had worn that ring?that one nd the other?and so risked her life II those years?" "No; I think she had them concealed i some pocket upon her person, and ?o + oVirv lnaf fVinm the n \ ch t nf tVlP >bbery." "Do you? Have you never thought r the possibility of their having been a deposit in the safe?" "Yes, of course; I have thought of rnt. But what of it. Does it make le matter any more clear and straight nd plain? The rings are pretty; as eepsakes and memorials they are valable. But what of their intrinsic alue? They would scarcely have been e posited in a bank-safe by any one ho had to pay for the privilege of utting them there, would they?" "Perhaps not, but " "Wait a little. I have other evlence to connect Mrs. Senn with the uilty deed I witnessed." "Indeed? What is it?" "There was a peculiar thing in her air?a sort of half-comb and half-oramental pin?ending in a cross set lth pearls. I never saw another like anywhere. I would swear to the lentity of it." "Ah? And, you ha.ve seen it since?" "I have. Miss Barron wore it at her edding! Are you satisfied? Are you \rnrlnooH 9" "Not?quite?for?I " "And Mrs. Senn let It drop to the oor in the courtroom where her husand was being tried for his life. Do ou doubt still? Is there a link lacklg?" "Perhaps not. But " "Well?" "There are two things I want to now. Answer them for me, and I will ive up to your way of thinking. Give le even a plausible answer, and an nswer which is convincing to yourelf. and I will strangle my doubts, ury my faith in humanity, slay my elief in the truth written on her face, ay that Elsie Barron killed Contance Craig, and go back to Boston ) die." "Very well. I suppose the first uestlon Is: 'Why should Elsie Barron ill Constance Craig?' Am I right?" Prier shrank back, as though some ne had struck him. But his voice was a a ha finsu'Prpd "Xo, Mr. Senn," he said, "that is not ly question. I know of one reason fiat might have prompted some wolen, in her place, though " "Though you trust her still? Is that Mr. Prier?" "That is it?" "Then hurry to let me convince you. ,sk me your questions." "I will. Let me preface the first ne by a statement, which is this: The ings I found in the bank, were not arelessly lost: they were ostentatlous7 concealed, if I may venture to use uch a paradoxical expression in which a convey my meaning: they were not a sight, to a casual observer or a uperficial searcher, but they were ffiere a thorough and systematic t-arch could not possibly have missed hem. They were where they were for he purpose of challenging attention, 'hey were not dropped where I found hem: they were carefully and houghtfully put there." "You are sure of this?" "I am." "I had supposed, from what I had eard, that they were where the broom f the office boy would have sent them nseen into the street had he used it. had supposed that your finding of hem was one proof of the fact (proof ii you, I mean) that the bank was obbed after the boy had last swept the ank." "Your ideas were correct. And yet, nine are also. The rings were on the ioor, but the piece of furniture under .'hich they were placed, the distance hey had been shoved beneath it, evrything about them, and my finding f them?indicated thought. Do you nderstand?" "I do." "It seems to me that Mrs. Senn. if uilty, would not have wished these ings found." "I agree with you." "And you admit, I presume, that ny judgment regarding their disposal ii the bank is correct?" "I do. I will admit that they were arefully placed where they were ound, with the intention that they hould be found." "Very well. My first question Is: Vhy?" "Why?" "Yes, sir, why? That is all there : ? to it. Give me some slight explalation?some hint?some guess?if you an. Why?" "I?I don't know." "And my second question is: Why lid Elsie Barron roh her father's bank it all?" "I?I don't know." "You cannot answer either quesion ?" "I cannot." "Then I'll keep my promise to you, ruly and faithfully. But?I'll be hlamd if I don't hang somebody!" To be Continued. iHisfcUnnrouE 2Uadin<|. TO DRIVE AWAY MOSQUITOES. Claimed That Powdered Chryaanthe-' mum Will Do the Trick. Any chrysanthemums in your back yard? And mosquitoes buzzing around the front porch of evenings? Any flies? Any roaches? Any buggy bugs? Gather a handful of the opening chrysanthemum buds?of course you'll have to wait a while to do this?grind them into a powder, and see if that powder won't drive the pests away. The agricultural department is conducting some experiments in Washington with a peculiar species of chrysanthemums which grows on the far off shores of the Mediterranean and from which the Persian insect powder of commerce has been made almost ever since old Father Noah went down to the sea in his ship. Indeed, he may have had some of the powder on board the Ark to render l.t_ -J ~ ? -T J Anlmnla III.** ilI III I'itir* tlHU (illlCl iuiiinain flealess. Maybe he used it to keep the mosquitoes out, for history does not tell us that there were any screens in those days. Anyhow, he might have used the powder In these ways, for the scientific fact does exist that the chrysanthemum ' bud and flower are the deadly foe of Insect life. The chrysanthemum from which this powder is produced Is not, however, the common or garden variety of Japanese chrysanthemum grown for its floral beauty. It is the botanical chrysanthemum, and, while distinctly related to the Thanksgiving emblem known so widely throughout the United States at that season, is a plant with characteristics all its own. It is much smaller, and has a yellow centre and white petals, and some of the varieties of Asia Minor, notably the Pyrethrum roseum, have petals streaked with a reddish tinge. Grown In California. These plants grow, so far as is known, in only two parts of the United States. There Is a large ranch at Atwater, Cal., where this variety of chrysanthemum is grown, and from which the mosquito powder is made on a large scale, for sale throughout the country. The buds of the flower are gathered before they have fully matured, and are ground into a powder, which Is a violent poison for almost all insects. Some of the plants have been transplanted to the propagating station of the department of agriculture at Arlington, Va'., where a small bed of them had been under cultivation for about three years. So far as Is known, this is as far north as they will grow, but Dr. Rodney True, who has been making some investigations into the subject, said recently that perhaps they could be grown in the New England states as far north as Boston, although he has conducted no tests to prove this. Dr. True's experiments with the insect power obtained from chrysanthemums have been confined exclusively to those plants of Asiatic origin, and he frankly said he did not know whether the buds and flowers of the common varieties of chrysanthemum as known In this country would produce the powder. However, anybody with a hobby for chrysanthemum culture might make the experiment, and if successful he could grind enough powder from his own plants to keep his bedroom free of mosquitoes all during a hot summer. At the Arlington station some 01 this powder had been made in a hand mill, and tests to determine whether it will drive insects away have been made. It cannot be said that any new discoveries have been made. The properties and quantities of the Persian insect powder?all varieties of which are made from the plants of the chrysanthemum family?have been known for ages. Their cultivation has been one of the industries in Asia Minor for many generations. Brought Here In 1881. As far back as the spring of 1881. the Asiatic plant made its appearance here. In the spring of that year Professor C. V. Riley, on behalf of the United States entomological commission. distributed the seed of the Pyrethrum roseum and the Pyrethrum cinerarloefollum to a number of correspondents in different parts of the country-. Dr. Riley himself made exhaustive experiments showing the value of these plants in furnishing a perfectly effectual insecticide that can be used against many of the worst insect pests, without, as he says in an agricultural department report of about that period, "danger to man or beast." It is from some of these seed that the present big ranch in California had its origin. The secret of the Pyrethrum was not divulged by the inhabitants of the region south of the Caucasus mountains until the beginning of the last century, when an Armenian merchant learned that the insect powder was obtained from the dried and pulverized flowerheads of a certain variety of Pyrethrum growing In what is now known as the Russian province of Transcaucasia. A son of the merchant began the manufacture of the powder on a large scale, and now the exportation of these chrysanthemum flowers?to call them rather Incorrectly "chrysanthemums"?is one of the important industries of that part of the world. The chrysanthemum cinerarloefolium is known as the Dalmatian insect powder plant. The chrysanthemum roseum is known as the West Asia plant. As early as 1882 a Oermantown, Pa., man into whose hands some of the seed of the latter plant had fallen reported that he had grown them successfully, and that he believed they were capable of cultivation in any part of the United States. Then a New York man Informed the department of agriculture that he had been growing the plant for ten years. Easy to Cultivate. Doubtless any seriously inclined person with the desire to begin the , cultivation of these plants, to make a homemade insect powder and antimosquito drug, could readily obtain a limited quantity of the seed from the department of agriculture. Their cultivation is easy. A small bed of fine, loose, sandy loamy soil should be prepared, slightly mixed with fine manure. Mix the seed with dry sand and sow carefully on top of the bed. Too much water will cause injury. The plants should be transplanted to loamy soil during the rainy season of winter or spring. ? In regard to manufacturing the powder, the flower heads should be gathered during fine weather, when they are about to open, or at the time a< when fertilization takes place. The k< stalks may be cut to within four hi inches of the ground, and, ground th fine, mixed with the buds to the pro- al portion of one-third. af The flowers must not be exposed to w moisture or artificial heat. They c? should be dried under cover. The 1st flowers may be pulverized by the ft method of pounding them in mortar, fc and the finer they are pulverized the better the insecticide will be. jy Insects subjected to this powder fc show symptoms of Intense pain. <j, Hence Its use against the mosquito Cf pest might be made very gratifying, ^ as the victim of the Insect, using the bi powder, could sit at his ease and w watch the dying antics of his enemy. m The powder may be moulded Into candles and burned, or sprayed j through the air, or applied diluted in a) water. It operates much more quick- w ly in a closed room than In the open tl air. si In a room Infested with mosquitoes, b( for example, a spray of powder would b< quickly cause the Insects to fall to the b< floor stupefied, but in some rases they ^ would not die foF two or three day9. b< 1 " 01 POOR MONARCHS. fr Not Even Emperor William Is Getting b< Enough Pay. e< The German emperor as king of n Prussia wants to have his salary u; raised. At present he receives from L the state ?130,000 as German emper- u or and ?770,554 as king of Prussia, fi The last increase, which amounted to si ?150,000, was made in 1889, in the gi second year of his reign. In spite of w this, however, he is actually getting gi ?250,000 less than the old kings of tl Prussia annually received. oi An income exceeding ?900,000 is b< not a despicable sum, even for Kaiser ai Wilhelm, but those who know say it g is not excessive, considering that tl there are no allowances to other ir members of the royal family, and that sj very little comes from the royal do- tl mains. h The kaiser has several hundred si uniforms, and his tailor's bill runs In- d to pretty tall figures. He has com- ci plete uniforms of all the Prussian e' regiments?horse, foot and artillery1? a besides the regiments of the lesser w states, and those of which he holds f1 honorary rank in foreign countries. Every appointment is perfect, from lj the shoulder knots, which cost more than the uniform itself, to jewelled accoutrements fit for an Oriental au- t< tocrat. Ii When he travels it is always in w much pomp and ceremony and ac- It companied by a large retinue. Hence A his official revenue Is not enough to h keep him. In addition to the up-keep o of his fifty-two castles, palaces and t< country houses, and innumerable si farms and forests, he is expected to ci maintain the royal theatres at Berlin, w Hanover and Casael and must also w foot the bills for the royal concerts. si The kaiser Is very lucky, however, n In the way of legacies from wealthy e subjects. Only a few years ago Herr Wilhelm HUderbrand left him an es- c! tate worth ?75,000 and ?150,000 In tl hard cash; a gift matched by that of a a west Prussian land owner, who gave ^ him a 5,000-acre estate as an earnest h of greater possessions to come at the 8| donor's death. Then there was the a ?100.000 bestowed upon him by Bar- S] oness Oppenhelm-Cohn. and the ?500,- a 000 placed at his disposal by Herr e Henckel von Donnersmarch in 1905 g "To him that hath shall be given." o With reference to the kaiser's de- r mand for increased pay, it may be ^ mentioned that King Edward gets 8 ?470,000 for his own use. while each h member of the British royal family ^ receives various grants which exceed g ?100.000 per annum. Besides his of- g tlcial salary King Edward has a large j. private purse. e The kaiser is by no means the best v paid monarch in Europe. The em- ^ peror of Austria outdistances him c with his salary of ?940,000, which d sum is derived from two portions of s his monarchy. ? The best-paid monarch in Europe ^ is the czar of Russia. The state treasury pays out ?1,500,000 per an- ^ num for the needs of the imperial v house. In addition, the reigning em- j, press and the dowager empress each a have an allowance of ?20,000 a year. 0 Every child born to the czar receives j from its birth to the age of 21 nearly p ?4,000 u yeur, while the heir to the a throne receives annually in addition to p, maintenance of palaces, ?10,000. ^ Daughters receive a dowry of ?100,- a 000 when they marry. Contrasted with these generous p grants the salaries of rulers of smaller t countries seem beggarly in proportion, r The king of Italy has ?640,000 a year, ^ but the king of Greece only receives ^ ?40,000. This sum is so Inadequate to ^ keep up his position thnt Great Bri- 8 tain. France and Russia each pay him t ?4,000 a year. The French president v has a salary and allowance of ?48,000, p while the president of the United p States has to make both ends meet on r ?10,000. And yet, with aJI their enor- c mous incomes, some of these great potentates of the earth are not half so happy as many a country curate with . ?60 a year.?Tit-Bits. Cocaine's Awful Grip. . A woman's soul, killed by cocaine, f was laid bare before Judge "Wells In Chicago, 111., when Mrs. Kuhn, highly educated, told the story of her dealings with Jim Hing. . "I went to Jim Hing's laundry and s asked him for cocaine," said the woman. "I was half dead from my over- . night indulgence. I would have sold my soul for the drug, but I had no money and the Chinaman had no pity. r "'You got Jewelry home?' said he. * 'You bring it to me and I give you j cocaine.' s "I went home. I had given Hing my muffler, my pocketbook, my cloak, s my wedding ring, the earrings my hus- t band had given me, my best Sunday , dress. I had nothing left and I was ? dying for the drug. "My baby was playing about the 3 floor. I saw the glitter of a gold lock- l et and chain about her neck. I snatch- ^ ed it from the baby's throat and ran r back to the Chinaman. I pressed it : into his hands. He gave me cocaine, t and in the exultation that came with } the drug I lost all sense of shame for the crime against motherhood I had committed." ' The Chinaman was fined $200. i A-BEARING IN ALA8KA. he Solitary Adventure of a Huntsman Near Juneau. It was certain that luck had been tainst us. and the spell was not bro5n till some prospectors whom we id met in Juneau invited us to join lem in their hut in the mountains >ove timber line. Being: uncertain i to the advisability of such a move, e decided that one of us should acspt the invitation and the other lould stay and hunt the creeks for a w more davs. We drew lots and I illowed the .. In era. The coun'ry up ) was absolutesuperb You could look around ir a radiu^ of seventy-flve or a hun:ed miles at endless chains of snow >vered peaks. Way below was the ilt water cut up Into innumerable iys, channels and Inlets. Nowhere as there a sign of civilization. One ight have thought oneself on the irth before the appearance of man. spent three or four days wandering nid these enchanting surroundings ith gun and field glass. Here and lere vere patches of grass and cowIps which had been very recently ?aten down and bore the marks of ?ar tracks and beds. Some of theee ?ds looked big enough to have been lade by a cow or a horse, but^no ears showed themselves till the flfth r sixth day. I had been sitting in observation om a point of vantage, when away Blow :ne half a mile distant I observ1 a curious round speck which did ot at first appear to me as anything nusual, and I gave it little thought, ooklng in that direction a few mlntes later, I noticed that the speck om round had assumed an oblong tape. On examining it with my field lass my heart leaped into my mouth 1th excitement when I espied two ood sized grizzlies rolling around in ie grass playfully swatting each tlier with their large paws. It must e confessed that I faced the idea of ttacklng those animals alone with a ood deal of apprehension, but knew mt on returning to camp it would be n possible for me to refrain from peaking of what I had seen and that ie men would then ask me what I ad done. I could already see myself leeplsniy acknowledging mai i naa one nothing and the whole mining amp roaring, so I chose danger as an tdl less to be feared than ridicule nd started down the mountain toard the bears. They disappeared :om view for fully twenty minutes 'hile I circled a lofty crag and flnalr got within 600 yards of the spot 'here I had first seen them. The bears were no longer playing )gether. One of them stood facing 1 my direction, while the other, who as much larger than his companion, ly flat on his belly in the tall grass. .11 that could be seen of him was his ead bobbing up and down as he fed ft a blueberry bush. In endeavoring 3 get nearer I lost my footing and lid about fifty yards on a steep slope overed with heather. I supposed 'hen I looked again that the bears 'ould be in full flight, but to my great urprlse and relief they had seen othing; the wind blew crosswise and verythlng was favorable. In order to get a good open shot at lose range I was obliged to crawl irough a growth of stunted timber bout sixty yards wide, the trees of 'hich were not more than four feet igh. When I arrived on the other Ide of these bushes the bears were bout eighty yards front me. The mailer one now stood quartering way and the other was still nearly ntlrely hidden by shrubs and long rass. I therefore decided to dispose f the smaller one first. My 46-7# ifle was loaded with ten cartridges ,-hen * I opened Are. As the bullet truck him the bear reared on his Ind legs, viciously pawing the air and itlng at his wound. He uttered a erles of low growls, vjhlch sounded a ood deal like two mastiffs fighting, le seemed to be trying to get at an nemy which he supposed must be within reach. As I was bidden beilnd one of the small pine bushes he ould not see me, and the Idea evlently never entered his head that omething had been hurled at him rom a distance; the report of the rile meant nothing to him. Perceiving that he could not find ils enemy, he took to his heels and rent off diagonally at a mad gallop, lowllng with pain and rage, while nother one of my bullets hit the face f nature somewhere In his vicinity, ly this time the bigger bear was on ils feet, uttering low growls, jumping nd plunging through the long grass, low and then he would rear up on his ilnd legs for a few seconds to peer round Inquiringly. Just as he did so or the third or fourth time one of my ullets took him somewhere behind he fore shoulder, and after tearing nadly around as the first bear had one he also began to bolt. Fearing hat I should likewise lose hln., I hrew all caution to the winds and tood up in plain sight, at the same Ime firing another shot. This shot ras also caught by mother earth, but t accomplished Its purpose in attractng the bear's attention for Instead of unnlng away he wheeled ahout and harged. The nearer he came tbe easier he ras to hit, of course, but my shooting iad become decidedly erratic after so nuch excitement, and though hit se.vral times the bear had not cbeqked lis speed a particle when be was only ifteen feet away. My knees began to luake, but I stood my ground peyerheless for one more shot. To reach he place where I was standing lb* >ear had to jump into a slight depress 1 * nrwAun/1 orirl o a ha rliH Q(j HUH Ul L lit" 51 UUUU, ouu UU Iiv u.v. le exposed his spine. I fired a paring salute at the middle of his back ind turned without waiting to see the esult. Being in the pink of condition ind in a decidedly panicky frame of nlnd I made the dust fly at a rate of rpeed that I had heretofore not conildered myself capable of. I jammed . wo or three more shells Into the nagazine of my gun as I fled, then, ifter covering some thirty or forty rards, abruptly faced about confldenty. expecting to see the bear reaching 'or my heels. But he was done for. The last shot had hit him in the spine ind he lay flat on his belly. He was i fine specimen and must have welghbetween 500 or 600 pounds. To my rreat regret I was never able to find the first bear.?Forest and Stream.