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# >1]_aMT^ ??^iMr^MM'lTrnTTT IIWIII ? 111? ? III I I ! < !?II M?? fl?l?? I W?WIII1TT ???M ^ ^ ^ ^ ISSUED SEItt^WEEgL^ ^ l. m. grist s sons. publisher#, j % Ifamilg Jleicspaper: Jfor the promotion of the political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the people. {TKk,?nolk'cl!A.Vi'v* ck*r*.A" established 1855. YORK VILLE, S. cl, F KID AY, OCTOBER 9, 1908- XCXH1. THE STOR TW< BY EDGAR Between Julian Bleeker and Sydney Brentford there existed a friendship rarely seen, even among men of their age?and both were under five-andtwenty. They had first been as fellow-disciples at the New York Medical college, and their intimacy had progressed with huge strides after the first week of acquaintance. They would neither of them be solely dependent upon their prospective professions, for each was orphaned and the possessor of a pleasant competence. Perhaps what brought them so ninselv toeether was the en thusiastic interest with which each had embarked upon his medical career. Julian was a burly blonde, with enough physical grace in his general plump roundedness" always to throw about his motions a kind of jaunty dignity. He had a silky yellow beard, worn short, and a pair of shining blue eyes?womanish eyes, they had been called, and, if this epithet means tenderly expressive and soulful, its correctness cannot be assailed. New York was not his native place, hut he had been bred in a city of almost equal importance. and had afterward passed through college. His tastes were what might be safely termed aesthetic, and his manners were carelessly polished, with a dash of genuine sweetness in them that now and then surprised you. Sydney Brentford was by birth a New Yorker, though death had of later years played stern havoc with almost all his near relations. He was of slim, delicate make, with dark complexion. and dark, dreamy eyes. Under his faint black mustache you saw a mouth cut with exquisite sensitiveness of expression. He had taken high honors at Harvard. Now and then he wrote verses, which, after spending hours of toil upon them, he tore up in a fury of self-disgust; and doubtless he was right for doing so. A fervent lover of poetry, music and painting, he possessed no creativeness. "I believe that I feel some of Browning's poems and Chopin's music and Corot's pictures," he once told Julian, "as deeply as if I were a Michael Angelo, in the way of versatile artistic force. But I can do nothing, as it were, with that part of my natjre; I have no safetyvalve for it. so to speak." "Perhaps you will fall in love before long," Julian suggested, with a laugh. "Perhaps," murmured Sydney, pulling at the scant mustache he wore, whilst his eyes took a dreamier look than ever. "I should not be surprised." nut Sydney nau not iauen in iove uy the time that there occurred, between himself and Julian, what promised to he a permanent parting. A childless uncle, who had long been a physician in Cincinnati, hearing of Sydney's medical intentions, wrote him a most cordial letter, inviting his nephew to comt and practice with him, as the future inheritor of his own large clientele. Sydney considered the letter several days, and finally decided to go. "It is a grand opportunity," he declared to Julian. "If I remain here, I shall probably dabble in medicine for a few years, grow discouraged and drift into a most inactive life. But, having determined to be of some use in the world, why should I not accept Uncle Oliver's offer? The place which he holds out requires only quiet energy and mild perseverance for me to respectably fill it. There will be none of that prodigious effort necessary, which a young physician must put forward if he would scramble out from the bog of obscurity; and I confess that the thought of such effort has always made me feel like giving a great mental yawn. But." (and here Sydney's voice slightly quivered) "I shall be very sorry. old fellow, to leave you." It Is sure that a great deal of unquestioned sorrow was shown on both sides, when these two warm friends at length came to part with each other. It is quite possible that a Gallic embrace was exchanged between them. Xeither thought that there was to be no future meeting; but the strong element of regret consisted, for both, in the cessation of their future personal intercourse. An epjch in each life was ended. The old order was yielding place to new. It is slight wonder that there was much hand-wringing and a little tear-shedding on both sides. The letters which Julian received from his friend were, during the space of a year, regular and frequent. Sydney was absorbed in the pleasures of his profession, and not ill-pleased with Cincinnati. After a while the correspondence dwindled, on both sides, to something like one letter eacn muiim, and at the end of five years it was a fact that all correspondence between these two men had entirely ceased. Continued separation had done its usual work. Had Julian's and Sydney's interests not grown so wholly divergent as they were at present: had not the time of either been taken up with occupations from which the other was as far removed as New York and Cincinnati. they would doubtless have gone on proving their mutual regard in the most laudable epistolary way. As it was. the regard somehow continued almost as strong as ever?but the letters were not written. "Dear old Sydney," Julian would sometimes mentally remark. "I suppose he must be all right. I.et me see?does he not owe me a letter?" And very possible much the same species of concern in his friend's welfare existed on the part of Sydney. Meanwhile, fortune was by no means showing herself churlish to Julian. Whether or no from causes more meritorious than those which we term chance, he rose in his profession with unusual rapidity. Perhaps something in his gracious, modest, yet firm manner inspired trust: perhaps downright tai'-nt eelinscd surrounding mediocrity; perhaps he was merely lucky with a few patients, as some of his envious ft llows asserted. However, this may he. at the age of two-and-thirty. Julian had grown to he quite a medical oracle on the subject of certain diseases. The nervous system was his special Y OF 0 FRIENDS. FA WCETT. ty, and he had wrought many notable cures In cases of brain trouble. His practice had grown from nothing to a constituency of solid breadth, in about eight years. At the end of this time he found that he was a rich man. for certain investments made with his early patrimony had resulted fortunately, besides what had already accrued to him from professional labors. Without being desirous of permanently renouncing his medical career, he yet felt an inclination to spend several years at least in wandering over Europe. There was quite a clamor raised among his more devoted worshippers (and what physician so adored as he who makes hypochondria and "nerves" a principal study?) when Dr. Bleeker publicly declared his intentions. Several ladies emotionally told him that they should die if he went; but it must be recorded of him that he committed the cruelty of going all the same. The first few days of his voyage were delicious as latter May could make them. There was scarcely any one on board the steamer with whom Julian was acquainted. He was wholly free from seasickness, and deeply enjoyed the lovely weather, remaining almost constantly on deck. It was not long before he found himself much attracted by one particular lady, seemingly not far on in the twenties, who occupied, at certain intervals, a lonely chair on a certain portion of the deck for which she seemed to have a rather marked preference. Doubtless this unvarying position of hers was chosen in order that she might be in closest possible proximity to some special stateroom. Occasionally a man-servant of a most mannerly, trustworthy mien would appear from below and make some communication which the lady would receive with smiling or grieved look, as the case might be. Twice, after receiving such a communication, she herself went below, as if in expeditious response to It. The more that Julian looked at this lady the more her face fascinated him. Though of irregular features, it was a face of truly dazzling bloom, lit with large crystals, clear eyes of lightish blue, and framed with a crinkled opulence of rich auburn hair. It seemed to him that this woman was exquisitely happy; indeed, the expression of her face appeared most glowingly to disnnte the contrary of any such belief. Who was the mysterious invalid regarding whose condition she evidently received bulletins? Perhaps an aged mother. Perhaps a sister, though improbable. Perhaps? Julian was always conscious of a sharply unpleasant feeling when he subjected the unknown to this wild speculative process. "Good heavens!" he declared to himself, one day, when he missed her from the usual place at the usual hour, "I actually believe that I am in love for tne first time in my life." Stormy weather set in after the steamer had been five days out, and the nearer she drew toward the English coast the more violent became wind and water. On the sixth day, however, much calmer weather succeeded, though the seas were still formidable. That night a sudden alarm of fire was' raised throughout the ship. The panic was terrible, and the danger appalling. Fanned by vigorous wind, the fire, however it had originated, gained frightful headway in brief time. There was a rush for the boats, though their prospect of living in such a sea was slight enough. The scene was one of mad turmoil and unutterable anguish. Julian, thrilled as he was. endeavored to assist into the different boats as many of the women and children as it was possible to find room for. The ship was in imminent danger of sinking before he left her, and it was then to enter a boat which, loaded with pale faced wretches, threatened every moment to capsize. This boat had not gone more than what seemed a few hundred yards from the blazing pile, when a mighty wave swept over her, decimating the number of her inmates. Julian, a survivor this time, shiveringlv awaited the next wave, which he felt sure would settle his fate?meanwhile, the wave just past had flung rudely enough at his very feet what he at first believed to be the corpse of a woman. Whilst each moment expecting death, he raised the body to a sort of sitting posture and recognized in its colorless face, seen by almost the last glare from the sinking ship, none other than the lady who had so Interested him throughout the voyage. A few signs of life shudderingly shone in the body which he supported, were, perhaps, a signal with Julian to hope for his own life. Since this poor castaway had been lifted as if by a mira cle from death, he was forced to feel as if her salvation were not destined to be so momentarily brief as it promised. Time passed on. and still the buffeted boat lived with its drenched and terror-smitten freight. It was, in truth, one of but two boats that did manage to survive. An hour later the sea was comparatively tranquil, but the agony of those wrecked wretches can of course ill be told. They were spared. however, much that might have happened to them, being sighted by an eastward-bound vessel a few hours after dawn, and rescued from further suffering as though through a direct providential act. The lady thus strangely cast into the boat at Julian's feet so far recovered life as to speak several times during the awful interval between them and their final rescue. Rut the perfect incoherence and strangeness of her words soon convinced Julian that reason had by no means been restored to her with the restoration of consciousness. The unhappy survivors from this frightful disaster were treated with charming i humanity on board the vessel which had picked them up. Naturally robust, and possessed of an iron nervous sysI tem. Julian needed far fewer comforts than many of his companions in misfortune. His attentions toward a certain young lady among these,, however. - / 'VBRhESM H I^^^BHBuf^V^*:---^!^^'*?&& - ' ' ' 'ii'mttM *Sft? WW MR. BRYAN AS A WH In 1900 .Mr. Br.vnn broke all previoi On one dav In New York state be mc end of bis cr.r, and for several consecu big and little. lie has also accompli twenty speeches in twenty different pli were most unremittingly devoted. Indeed, his absorption in her was so great that by tacit understanding she was held to be his wife; nor did he awake to a sense of this prevalent mistake until, a day later, the vessel touched Liverpool. "I shall not correct the mistake," he then told himself; "for by this means r shall he enabled to find nrivate ac commodatlon for the poor creature somewhere in Liverpool, without causing curious inquiry among a few of these worthy fellow unfortunates. This ill-fated lady needs weeks of the most utter rest, besides all that my experience with cerebral troubles can do for her?and she shall have both, or my name is not Bleeker. Surely my expedient for getting her into quiet quarters is one that can only result in good tr herself." Julian had luckily had his letter of credit in a wallet on his person at the time of the disaster, and so was spared the least future difficulty about funds. He carried out his intention absolutely; and now let'it be at once explained that he encountered from the lady herself not the slightest difficulty in placing her precisely where he chose, since her condition resembled that of some animal saved from danger, and afterward piteously clinging, in its wounded state, to the hand which has protected it. Conscious unconsciousness would best explain her utter men tal debility. She made no reference to the dangers through which she had passed, and, indeed, seemed wholly to have forgotten them. But on all other subjects as well, her memory seemed either lost or else in complete abeyance. Julian engaged for her (under the name of Mrs. Butler, since the initials C. B. were found on several of her garments) two agreeable apartments in a certain tranquil portion of the city; he also engaged a competent lemale nurse, who was always to remain at her side. Locating himself in lodgings not far from those of his pati -nt. he made three or four visits upon her each day. wholly engrossed with her case, and often forgetting even to | glance at a daily journal in his state of continual preoccupation and devoted interest. It was by no means professional interest alone. Once a guilty twinge shot through him when he told himself that his reasons for not looking into the daily journals had reference to his patient solely. But alarmed conscience, in the most insulted manner possible, resented this charge. Surely there had been nothing voluntary in his not seeking to ascertain whether any other survivors had reached land from the burning ship. In a few weeks, when her cure was effected, would not this poor creature be able to give that needful intelligence concerning herself, without which all action on his part was prevented from operation in her behalf? As it was, he did not even know her name. Was he to hunt England or the Continent through, for the purpose of finding some possible survivor whose name possibly commenced with B? Thus effectively did conscience salve her own wound. Was one thought however, not gradually gathering more and more definite shape in Julian's mind as weeks lapsed along Was that persistent avoidance of the newspapers directly connected with a little whisper breathed to himself, as it were, by ids own medical experience? Let the reader form on these points what opinion seems best after he learns that Julian Bleeker was undoubtedly, just at present, under the control of a most powerful passion. Certain it was that no marked change * turtb nluco in thp POnrli I'?I IIIC- l/Clin l'M,n |'.?vx ... V..%. tion of Julian's patient. By degrees, it is true, her physical strength was quite restored, but mentally she remained without the recollection of any past event. Her memory, indeed, seemed powerless to deal with any occurrence less recent than that of her present illness. The burning ship, and all that had happened subsequently, were represented by a thorough blank. As for previous educational acquirements, these were completely forgotten. Her absolute ignorance was barbaric, but, in mournful contrast, an exquisite culture still lingered in voice, movement and manner. Julian now and then watched her with a silent, compassionate shudder. "I w;ts going to Rome," he once told himself, "but it is doubtful whether I would have found there any lovelier ruin than this." When her bodily health was restored in perfection, Julian made several efforts to reawaken memory by repeated %& y jji aBfinSraH IRLWIND CAMPAIGNER. J8 records as a whirlwind campaigner, de forty-nine addresses from the rear tive days he made thirty-flve speeches, shed the remarkable feat of making ices within twenty hours. sudden calls upon it. Every such ef fort, however, was rutile. After a little while his mind was made up. He determined to becom^ the teacher of this woman, whom he did not now disguise from himself that he intensely loved. He spent hours each day in her society, playing downright pedagogue after the most dogged fashion?though, ah, what labors of love be found his new labors to be! More than three years passed away, during which his charge, making admirable progress under his re-educating hands, continued to occupy these same quiet Liverpool quarters, flashes of what would have seemed in a child intuition again and again lit far on in advance for her, so to speak, the dark paths of study. Julian easily recognized in these phenomena the struggles of paralyzed memory with its own numb torpor. Her progress was brilliantly rapid. At the end of three years she -had reamassed a marvelous amount. And at the end of three years she became Julian Becker's wife. He married her under the name of Clara Butler, adhering to the old initials. Her consent to marry him may hardly be said to have ever taken place. Like Julian's asking of her hand, it quietly evolved itself from previous events. A little while after the wedding they went to Paris. In this gay capital Julian met a number of old acquaintances. One or two references to his shipwreck were made by those who remembered to have seen his name among the list of the few survivors, and on such occasions Julian usually found himself the prey of an overmastering embarrassment. But most of his old friends either failed to remember an event which must seem to the average American mind so remotely of the past as one occurring three years ago, or else they were well-bred enough quite to abstain from unpleasant and perhaps harrowing references. More than one person, however, told Julian that he had greatly changed since last seen. Doubtless many remembered the burnt vessel, and laid Dr. Bleeker's somewhat hardened and deeper-lined face to its ugly account. But was it not true that the burnt vessel had nothing more than an indirect sort of connection with any change in Julian's looks? When a man of sensitive moral perceptions finds himself placed in the way of a strong temptation. yields to such temptation, stifles the voice of honest duty, and patches up a feeble enough sort of truce With his sense of social justice, no doubt he is sometimes apt to bring forth from the struggle a few facial scars. Perhaps Julian's altered appearance may be thus explained. The idea of going out into the American society of Paris was repellent to him, but he found himself dragged, nolens volens, into a certain merry vortex. Of course his wife was dragged with him. People who had known him as the popular, almost famous, physician, a few years ago, insisted upon courting him now. They called upon him, and if denied the first time, they called again. Some one had caught a glimpse of Mrs. Meeker's lovely face, and curiosity became rampant to know more about the doctor's mysterious spouse. It was of no avail. Julian could not shut his doors against his own past?at 'east, not here in Paris. He was filled with a miserable feeling, like guilty fright, when he saw his wife among these people, being talked to. flattered and asked questions. Fortunately, he had had time to instruct her as regarded meeting, on certain points, the curiosity of his persecutors; but he felt that in a very little while her sad secret could be discovered. Already, once or twice, he had seen ' >er wear, when in company, the plaintive. helpless, half-distraught look that now and then crossed her face; and already, too. he was sure* that vague whisper of iter "queerness" had begun to circulate among those who sought her society. To he Continued. vt' Professor Felix Adler of New York will (ill the Roosevelt chair for 1908 at the Berlin university, and the German scholar w ho comes to Columbia is Max Verworn of the University of Goettingen. For 1908-10 the American professors selected to go abroad are Presitl nt Benjamin Ide Wheeler of the University of California and Professor William Morris Davis of Harvard. Dr. Verworn is one of the most distinguished of living physiologists. ittisfcUancous i'ratlinn,. GRAVEYARD LITERATURE. Notes of Inscriptions That Have Appeared on Tombstones. The change which has occurred in tombstones, from the old custom of Inscribing them with lengthy epitaphs to the present fashion of putting simply the name of the deceased with the dates of birth and death, was no doubt largely brought about by the very excess to which the epitaphs formerly ran; the excessiveness of their eulogiums being In many cases much more likely to provoke a smile than to arouse any feeling of sorrow or respect. "Let there be no Inscription on my tomb, let no man write my epitaph," was the wish expressed by the Irish patriot and martyr, Robert Emmett, on the eve of his execution, and the same desire has often been echoed by eminent men, who were content to trust their memory to the gratitude of their country rather than to depend upon a tombstone to keep it bright. The very absence of all inscriptions on modern stones makes us read with more interest those of a generation or two ago, and it must be confessed that the nature of many of them convinces us that the custom of thus perpetuating the memory of the dead is one "more honored in the breach than in the observance." In the days when inscriptions were regarded as almost obligatory it was sometimes a matter of such anxious thought on the part of the persons whose end was drawing near that they have been known to offer prizes for the best epitaph to be used upon their stones. In one instance this was done by a certain Mr. Oakes, but, the competing eulogiums failing to please him, ht wrote the following and claimed the prize for it. "Here lies the body of Sternhold Oakes, Who lived and died like other folks." One is sometimes at a loss to know whether the absurd inscriptions that are found in many old graveyards i were aiiriuuieu iu a iuck 01 leeinig ur a lack of humor on the part of those who erected the stones, but when we read some of the poetical effusions that at times accompany obituary notices at the present day we are forced to conclude that genuine sorrow may sometimes be expressed in bad poetry and absurd epitaphs. But, at the same time, grief must needs be very deep to blind the mourners to the ridiculousness of some of the following Inscriptions: From Bayfield, Mass., comes this verse: "Stranger, pause: my tale attend, A nd learn the cause of Hannah's end. Across the world the wind did blow, She catched a cold that laid her low. We shed a lot of tears, 'tis true, But life is short. Aged 82." From another town in the same state the following is taken: "Here lie two grandsons of John Hancock, first signer of the Declaration of Independence. Their names are. respectively, George M. and John H. Hancock, and their eminence hangs on their having had a grandfather." A New Jersey graveyard furnishes this stern warning: "Reader, pass on! Don't waste your time On bad biography and bitter rhyme; For what I am, this crumbling clay insures. % T .ifnn (o nn nfY-iIro nf AIIU Wlini l v? tin, la nu till ail o yours." Much in the same spirit is one from an old Lincolnshire graveyard in England: "Under this solitary sod there lies a man Whose ways were very odd: Whatever his faults were, let them alone. Let thy utmost care be to mend thine own: Let him without a sin first cast a stone." A certain Mr. James Danner, who had been married four times, received the following tribute: "An excellent husband was this Mr. Danner. He lived in a thoroughly honorable manner. He may have had troubles. But they burst like bubbles. He's at peace now with Mary, Jane. Susan and Hannah." A Capt. Hand, of Sag Harbor, who had surpassed James Danner in the matter of matrimony, lies burled in the midst of the graves of his five wives, with this verse upon his monument: "Fehold, ye living mortals passing by. How thick the partners of one husband lie: Vast and unsearchable the ways of Ood? Just, but severe, we feel His chastening rod." It hardly seems as though the faults and failings of men should render them subject to ridicule after death, but the following bunch of epitaphs chnw little trace of that delicacy of feeling which bids us speak nothing but good of the dead. On the grave of a miser stand these lines: "Here lies one who for medicines wouldn't give A little gold, and so his life was lost. I fancy now he'ci wish to live. Could he hut know how much his funeral cost." Over a gambler Is this inscription, doubtless regarded as very clever by the composer: "Here Hardwell lies, his game of life being played. At length death trurnpt him with a sexton's spade; Yet two points of the game he still can show. For now his soul is high, his body low." Even an inveterate drunkard hardly deserved the following sarcastic epitaph: "Pray, who lies here? Why, don't you know? 'Tis stammering. staggering, boozy Joe. Whither he's gone we do not know. With spirits above or spirits below? Put if he former taste inherits. He's quaffing in a world of spirits." Of a man who had accidentally led off a horse belonging to some one else, the story was told in the following lines: "He found a rope and picked it up. And with it walked away. It happened that to t'other end A horse was hitched, they say. They took the rope and tied it up Unto a hickory limb. It happened that the t'other end Was somehow hitched to him." A poor man. possibly a descendant of the Scotch poet, had on his tombstone the name "John burns." Whereupon some one remarked: "We suppose the words were simply intended to record the man's name, but they look wonderfully like a "noun, coupled with a verb In the indicative mood. There is no hint that John deserved the fate to which he appears to have been consigned, and we should be very sorry to believe it." Of quite another character are some of the following epitaphs. In Mount Auburn cemetery is this simple verse: "Shed not for her the bitter tear, Nor give the heart to vain regret. 'Tis but the casket that lies here, The gem that filled It sparkles yet." There is in the same cemetery an epitaph to a Spanish girl, who died of a broken heart: "She who lies beneath this stone Died of constancy alone. , Fear not to approach, oh, passer-by Of naught contagious did she die." Over the grave of a minister, in the old graveyard at Barnstable, Mass., is this couplet: "Think what the Christian minister should be; You've then his character, for such was he." Of much the same tenor Is this: "She was?but words are wanting to say what. Think what a woman should be?she was that." We may conclude these selections from the latest volume of tombstone literature, with one that has some bearing on the present time, and which we hope that many will prove upon election day that they merit to have inscribed upon their tomb: "He remained to the last a strong friend and supporter of Democratic principles and measures. Blessed are the dead who died in the Lord."? News and Courier. WHITE HOUSE FAMILIES. William Henry Harrison Had the Largest, Consisting of Ten. tioim Kaon timpg In American history when an advocate of large families could not have cited the household of the White House as an example, says the Boston Globe, for small families have been the rule In the White House, and the census taker In more than one administration would have been obliged to report, "No family." Yet only two bachelors have been elected to the presidency, and one of these, Orover Cleveland, changed his condition by marrying before completing his first term. James Buchanan In his youth was a party to a romantic love affair, and after the death of the young lady he appears never to have thought of marrying. It has been said that few presidents had what President Roosevelt would call large families. William Henry Harrison had the largest; he was the father of six sons and four daughters. He was the oldest man ever elected to the presidency. Hayes and Garfield had the next largest families; in the Hayes family were born eight children, and in the Garfield family seven, a large number in each case growing to maturity. President Grant had four children, three sons and one daughter, and one of these sons, Frederick D. Grant, is a major general In the army. Abraham Lincoln, had four sons, Robert Todd Lincoln, who became secretary of warj under Presidents Garfield and Arthur, alone surviving to maturity. President Johnson had two daughters, Martha and Mary, Martha presiding over the White House during the frequent Illnesses of her invalid mother. President Arthur was a widower, and his sister presided over the White House. He had t vo children living, but his first child, a son, died in Infancy. President Van Buren also was a widower. He had five sops, two of whom were Abraham, whose wife presided over the White House, and John, who was known as "Prince John." President Taylor had a son and two daughters. of whom one married Jefferson Davis. President Pierce had three sons, two of whom died in infancy, and the third, a boy of 13, was killed In the presence of his parents in a railroad accident two months before his father's inauguration as president. President John Adams had a daughter and three sons, President Monroe had two daughters and John Quincy Adams had several children. President Jefferson had five children, two of whom died in infancy. President McKinley's two daughters died while very young. T'T France has about three-fifths of an acre of forest for each Inhabitant, and annually imports $30,000,000 worth of wood. ff f | jjE^-vx Hwaj62^ ^ ^HpP^ ; ' A STREET SCE The streets of the Philippine metroi things that are modern and those that ar byways are as foreign in tlieir appearai by an American. Many of the businesi the bustle and business aspect of wester SOME POPULAR MISTAKES. Things Supposed to Be In the Bible Not There. Of popular fallacies, those relating to the Bible are perhaps the most widely current. It Is commonly stated that after the flood Noah's Ark rested on Mount Ararat. But what the Bible says In the Book of Genesis Is that It rested "on the mountains of Ararat." Ararat being the name of a district which Included the elevations on which the ark came to rest. This Is not quite so bad as the man who said he was glad he had gone to church on a certain Sunday, for he learned that Sodom and Gomorrah were cities, and he had always supposed they were men and wife. It Is the popular belief that the fruit which Eve and Adam ate in the garden "eastward in Eden" was an apple, but there Is no authority for this, for It is simply called the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil: "And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food and that It was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and grave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat." The fallacy that the fruit was an apple has been carried so far that the legend says that the "app'e" stuck in Adam's throat, hence ihe "Adam's apple" for the thyroid cartilage of the larynx, which Is more prominent in a man's throat than In a woman's. So it Is also a fallacy that our first parents were punished by being excluded from the Garden r.f Eden for eating the forbidden fruit. Several punishments were Imposed on both of them for disobedience of the command of the Lord God. but the reason for their exclusion Is as 'o'lows: "And the Lord God said, 'Behold, the man has become as one of us, to know good and evii; ana now, iesi ne put torin his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat and live forever,* therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the Garden of Eden to till the ground from whence he was taken." Another popular misconception in regard to the human race, which has grown up from the Book of Genesis, Is that a man has one less rib than a woman, based on the account that the "Lord God took a rib from Adam while he slept, and of the rib; which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man." But examination of the skeletons of both sexes shows the same number of ribs In each. There are several popular quotations almost Invariably attributed to the Bible, "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" Is from Sterne's "Sentimental Journey to Italy." "In the midst of life we are In death" Is In the burial service, and came originally from Luther. "The merciful man is merclft ful to his beast" is the popular corruption of "A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast," as found in Proverbs. "Money is the root of evil" is tw'sted from St. Paul's utterance, "The love of money is the root of all evil." "Cleanliness is next to_,gpdliness," instead of being in the Bible, is attributed to Eusebius, a sermon on dress. "Little children, love one another," is not found In the Bible, but is attributed by Eusebius to St. John in his old age. The name of the rich man in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus is popularly supposed to be Dives and it is frequently so used. But the word Dives is not found in the English version of the Gospel of St. Luke, in which the parable appears, the "certain rich man" having no name. The word "dives," meaning "rich man," appears In the Vulgate, and came to be used on paintings of the scene in mediaeval times, the Latin inscription frequently being "Dives et Lazarus;" but had the order of the words been reversed it would have been "Lazarus et dives," the latter word not being capitalized. The common quotation, "The tongue is an unruly member," as it appears in the Epistle of St. James is, "The tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil," the saying "truth is mighty and will prevail, as it appears in the First Book of Esdras, in the Apocrypha, reads, "Great is truth, and mighty above all things." The phrase In Second Corinthians, "Not to think of men above that which is written," is usually quoted "To be wise above that which is written."? New York Thibune. ***** /**r sr a \/y //\ wmsmwMflWMfA NE IN MANILA. )olis show a remarkable admixture of e ancient. Some of the less frequented ice as If they had never been entered 3 streets, however, are fast taking on 11 civilization. KULIL-t UUU3. How the Police Dogs of Paris Have Made Good. Although Hull is the only place In this country where dogs are employed to aid the police In tracking criminals, the services of canine detectives have for years past been requisitioned In France, Germany, Belgium, Austria and New York. Russia has recently followed the example, of these countries. London, alone, among the capitals of Europe Is the only place where dogs have not been enlisted Into the police service. The experience of other countries and the success of the experiment at Hull has completely vindicated the utility of "dog policemen," but, although the authorities at Scotland Yard are understood to recognize their usefulness, the sentimental prejudices of the public seem to be the chief objection to their Introduction In the metropolis. These prejudices may De 8urmouniea in time, ana some uay, sooner or later, London may be equipped with "canine constabulary." The idea of employing four-footed watchers at the Hull Docks was borrowed from Ghent, the Belgian town, which is the pioneer in the use of the dog thief catcher: and, as the system has proved successful, not only in helping the police to capture suspects, but in preventing crime, as well, it will be surprising If it is not extended to other parts of the country. The dogs principally used for criminal work are Airedale terriers and cross-bred bloodhounds. Scientific tests have proved that the former species of dog can hear, roughly 400 yards further off than a man, and it is this class of canine watcher that has rendered such effective work at Hull. The dogs accompany the police on patrol and are taught to obey the calls of small trumpets which the officers carry. The animals are held in leash and slipped when required to render assistance. A large leather muzzle covers the dog's head, so that when they make for their quarry and seize him they cannot bite. The duty of the dog policeman is merely to throw the miscreant until his human colleague arrives. The dogs are even trained to upset bicycles, so that the scorcher or the thief who tries to escape on wheels may very easily be caught. They are also taught to recognize the night watchman in uniform, so that policemen themselves are never in danger of being attacked or mistaken for prowlers. Even the discharge of firearms does not frighten the well-trained terrier. And, lastly, the dogs are trained to refuse the Insidious sausage, which may be well-seasoned with strychnine when It is offered by a strange hand. Marvellous proofs of the sagacity of police dogs were given at the remarkable trials recently held at Paris, when French, Belgian and German dogs were tested in the art of capturing supposed criminals and in discovering hidden persons, pursuing them and holding them captive. Part of the programme was to confront each dog with an Apache attired In the classic costume of a red neckerchief, broadbrimmed hat slouched over the eyes and no collar. The dogs were, of course, muzzled, otherwise the amateur Apaches would have passed a bad quarter of an hour but, as it was, they were attacked with great fury by their canine assailants and bowled over like ninepins. In another experiment the dog's master arrested a supposed burglar, who in the struggle dropped a sack containing the booty. The dog watched the arrest with a critical eye, prepared to assist if his services were required, and when the burglar was marched off to prison stood sentry over the loot without a word or sign from his master?until the officer returned and relieved him of his duty. Among other accomplishments the dogs displayed were to climb walls and to take high Jumps of ov??r six feet and long Jumps of fourteen feet. How to knock a man down by running between his legs and how to keep him on the ground with vigorous blows of the muzzle were acts In which they an aispiayea me greaiesi smii. One of the dogs recently trained to assist the Paris police was not long In giving an account of himself. Going out with a couple of police-sergeants, he came across a group of beggars In the Bouleyard Carnot at St. Dennis, and began to sniff, whereupon a cripple hit him on the nose with a piece of Iron. The dog remembered that blow. Finding himself some time afterward at Pierrefitte in a professional capacity he suddenly pounced upon a onearmed man standing at the door of a wine shop. The dog's ill-humor attracted the attention of the policemen accompanying him, and they rec ognlzed in tne one-armea man me culdejatte of St. Dennis. The man was taken to the police station and stripped. It was found that he was an impostor?that he had both arms, becoming In turn a blind man and a cripple. Another French dog distinguished himself in signal fashion. A gang of burglars was arrested at St. Maur; only the leader escaped. Some days afterward it was ascertained that the fugitive had taken refuge in an abandoned house, which two police Inspectors entered, along with a dog assistant. On seeing the officers the man produced a knife and was about to attack one of the policemen, when the dog jumped at his throat and succeeded in upsetting him. The man was immediately seized and bound. One of the most-talked-of dog policemen In France is known by the name of Lion. Recently he covered himself with glory at Areneil. Systematic plundering had been going on at the railway goods yard, and despite the efforts of the police. no clue to the thieves could be * a 'T'L - lrt/*n 1 I nonnnfiM' r? f O 1 ua round. l ne otui iiiopcvw*, ?... for an expedient, thought of the police dogs and requisitioned one. Lion was accordingly sent down and turned loose In the yard. The very tirst night he unearthed a man hiding in a truck. The man was arrested, but on the way to the station he broke away; he was speedily overtaken and thrown in the approved style by Lion, after which he went quietly. In her police dogs Paris possesses the cheapest and most efficient force in the world. The cost of running the kennels is under ?500 a year, and the law-abiding Parisian does not grudge the outlay, for he has come to realize what a splendid adjunct dogs are to the police force. The chien de police of Belgium are historic, and one of these well-trained and faithful animals always accompanies a policeman on night duty, both in town and country.