Democratic Press, Volume 2, Number 62, Decatur, Adams County, 19 December 1895 — Page 11

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■| CHAPTER XXIII r . , ~iii<'“i<'i. wiii'ii i"' ini'i f" r ' ■’••l !>., wife'll lip*. Indignation lent Hll'l ll' ill forcible term* fl^K. v ..... l'i» f" r •" r I'*® straightforward dealing. ahe liter nd before bin wrath. f.,ti"wing morning dawned brisk* but June thought it the dreariest <j»\ break on which her eye* had ever All night long she had been j^K. k . . gtieiing. but toward morning Ini'! nt* an uneasy sleep of short durur flight's rest Imd restored to Mrs. is r usual gelf-iunwftion and her K,..,,. She was scolding the servant* '^K., r .*i*ly as .lane emerged from In r . but her volnblflty carnet" a sudden as she saw her daughter. The shabk tr."k. of which she intuitively the full significance, touched her .gely, and a lump rose in her throat, t became crimson, and y arning K- love and sympathy, held out her jp. Knox caught her in her arms and ! over lo r. reproaching herself bitMrl< for the share she had in her niisWhat might have been n barbetween them Jane's sweet, forgivdisposition had broken down, ami and child understood each oth< r than they had ever done before. ■■ 'l'ii*. Q artermaater came in and was Kb to sue the reconciliation, though thought it best to take no notice of K in words, only smoothing his daughKt'. bright hair tenderly as he pass.-d ■ ~ SM \ wet. later, when the Sergeant came asked to see Jane, he found himself with the Quartermaster inStead. 99 I wish to see Jane." he stammered with an awkward salute. ■ "if it is anything imisirtant for her to ■know. I can take the message." ■ "Why should 1 not be allowed to speak ■fir myself? Jane has promised to be my ■wife, and I have a right to see her when ■1 choose. From the first I never had ■ fair piny. Mrs. Knox forbade me the ■ house first, then she tampered with my ■letters." ■ The Quartermaster had been standing ■ all this time, nor had he offered his vis- ■ it'ir a seat, wishing the interview to be ■ a brief one. With this object still before ■ him, he went straight to the subject he ■ wished to impress upon the Sergeant ■ unee and for all. "One other thing it would be better 9 you should credit—that your claim upon Imy daughter is at an end. I forbid the 9 engagement.'* "You mean to say that you withdraw 9 your consent?” leaning forward with an 9 angry light in his eyes. I The Quartermaster nodded. 1 The Sergeant sunk into a chair and J passed his hand across his brow. Al- ■ though the evil habit he had lately eonfl tracted had made him oftentimes defl spondent, he was naturally of a hopeful I disposition, and had in his heart of ■ hearts cherished the idea that Jane would become his wife. His love for her was the one strong impulse of his life, and like all weak natures, he supposed that could he win his desire he would be .1 hotter man. With a quiet hand-shake the two mon Parted shortly after, mid the Quartermaster immediately repaired to the draw-ing-room to tell his daughter what he had done. "Jenny, darling." said her father, gently. "I have been doing something for you without your peruiissioii.” "Have you?" she answered, listlessly. "I dan' say 1 shall not be very angry.” "But I want you to be pleased.” "I don't know that 1 can promise that"- with a smile. "I have s[aiken to Jacob Lynn, forbidding your engagement, and he has sub tnitted to my authority. So, Jenny. 1 shall expect equal obedience from you." Then I am free!" she cried, excitedly, disregarding his attempt to jest. After that she grew a little brighter. Perhaps—for she was very young and Unused to sorrow hope had unconsciously revived; but if so, it was destined soon to fade again. '•no morning her mother came in with Something to say, which she evidently feared might give her pain. She fidgeted about the room rearranging several ornaments and Isioks. then finally took up her position behind Jane's chair. "1 don't know, Jenny.” she begun, nervously. "what passed between you and 1 olonel Prinsep the—that day. 1 have always felt that I bud no right to ask. Bat. child, will you tell your mother "hi ther you expected he would come to you again?" I I had no reason to expect so," was the stammered reply. Then, as the sience grew oppressive ami full of nameless fears, .lane added in a constrained Voice: "Why do you ask?” Because he started yesterday for England, and I thought " v ." tiny never heard the conclusion of t words, for she swooned away. CHAPTEr“x.XIV. I hat summer was a very hot one at Ahpore. Even Mrs. Knox, who had been through so many hot seasons, felt weak Jnd languid; and Jane, who had never eon through one since she was a child, grew really ill. < iften she dreamed of the’ summer days in England, and pieaired Stephen Prinsep wandering through cafy glades, or by a mountain stream, •io had described to her his home so * , n that she seemed to know every 00a and corner of it. And now he had gone there alone. Brooding over her «orrow became a luxury to her at last, n<. she grew impatient when her reverie ”as disturbed.

it wn< fortunate that nt this juncture Mrs. Ibuie, who had with her parents taken a house at Simla, wrote and asked June to stay with them for the next three months. Ill" meeting win at first fraught with painful memorise to both; Jane thought of all that hiippemsl since their last tulk together at Alipore; and Mrs. Denu rivalled the pleasant plans thut she and her husband hud made for them all, spending that hot weather at t'ashmere. She. t<s», was greatly altered. After her husband's death, she hnd hud a lowfever for several weeks, which hud robbeii her of her strength and made her very slim and pale. Yet she looked younger than she had done during the earlier portion of her married life, when the shame of having been jilted by one man and having been married by another for pity's sake had weighed so heavily upon her. Xow all that past time troubled her no more, aud mourning for a husband, who she knew loved her, was a healthier if more pungent grief. It was July when Jane arrived, one of the quietest months at Kiuila, so she had a little leisure to recover her good looks, about which Mrs. Dene could not have been more anxious hnd she been the most scheming of Belgraviun dames. A fancy dress ladl was to be given on the Ist of August by the Viceroy, and at this it was decided that Jane should make her debut in .Simla society. At first she had demurred, partly on account of the expense; but every objection was overruled, and when the big can! of invitation was put into her hand she felt glad that she had Imm -n persuaded. She had told the outline of her story to Mrs. Dene, only suppressing the facts of her mother'* deceit and Colonel PriDs»p'a complicity. But Mrs. Dene, knowing only part, and consequently not seeing sufficient motive for the breaking off of the marriage, jumped to the conclusion that, though she might have lieen deeply hurt mid distresscl at the notoriety involved. Jane had never really loved the Colonel. Mrs. Dene felt a momentary regret that she herself v is not accompanying Jane, when she saw how lovely the girl looked. “The prettiest maid that ever went a-milking,” smiled Mrs. Molnet, as she noted Jane's appearance before she left for the ball. “I foretell that you will be the Indie of the ball," added her daughter. “Hitherto Diana Knollys has reigned supreme; but her day is over now." That Jane enjoyed herself was a matter of course. She looked the very incarnation of yonth and pleasure as she moved about, the color coming and going fitfully in her face, her hazel eyes aglow with Soft delight. Government House to her seemed a palace of splendor; but that she was the Cinderella of the scene, who had been almost unanimously declared its fairest queen, she did not guess. In her own mind she sot down Miss Knollys as the most lieautiful woman there. Major Larron had gone to Cashmere for his six months' leave, and spent most of his time shikarring; but when he heard where the Quartermaster's daughter had gone he lost no time in following her there, bringing as propitiatory gifts some red bearskins for Mrs. Dene, mid for Jane a magnificent snow leopard skin, to use as a rug for her janipan, the usual nuxle of conveyance in the hills. Valentine Graeme came up also for the last two months, ami having made known the opinion he had always held as to her histrionic pow.-rs, prepared the way for her to another triumph. Sometimes the girl could scarcely believe that she had ever been the Sergeant Major's daughter, and engaged to Jacob Lynn; yet in one thing she was unchanged. Never for nn instant did her love foi Stephen Prinsep falter. The season drew to an end. and with many regrets Jane left Mrs. Dene's hospitable roof to return to Alipore. She vraveled down with Miss Knollys. with whom latterly she had become better acquainted. The Commissioner's daughter had begun by affecting a friendship for diplomacy's sake; but afterward what Colonel Prinsep had foretold her came to pass, she grew to really like her for her own sake, and Jane returned the liking. It was not to be supposed that any one so handsome as Diana Knollys should remain without nn admirer. She hnd several. but only one of them had actually declared himself, and that was Colonel Grey, xvho commanded the -th Hussars. Mrs. Knox was delighted to have her daughter back, and hnd rejoiced in the several accounts of her successes which she had received from the good-natured Adjutant and Mrs. Dene. CHAPTER XXV. Colonel Prinsep hnd by no means enjoyed his continental tour. He hnd met friends, been bored by them, and gone on to meet other acquaintances and be bored anew. Toward the end of the six months, how ever, he became his usual Insouciant self. Say what one will of constancy, absence is more likely to engender forgetfulness than deepen love. All the while he was nway from Alipore he had never heard any news of the Quartermaster’s daughter, his correspondents thinking it an unpleaaant topic to introduce: consequently he hnd no idea when he returned to Alipore whether she had married the Sergeant or not. As he neared the station his thoughts, which had wandered and had been half disloyal to the love which so lately he had professed and felt, roeoncenirnted themselves; the Inst few miles he saw aud heard nothing that did not remind him of Jane. Tn the distance he saw the winding road he hnd traversed with her the day that she had broken her urm. and supported bv him she had lain half fainting with the pain, yet scarcely uttering a cry Ah, and there was the Quartermaster's bungalow-he wondered if she lived there still, and there the church. All his bitterness revived at sight of the sacred edifice where he had waited

la vzln for hK bride. He thought that were h>< t<> remain In Allpor<* a hundred J ear* he Would li< ter ruler its door* agulti! On the platform of the station was Vah-iitino Graeme, (iv rlng into each carriage uII p i ■ d him. nod be uttered a delighted exclamation when be reeog* nixed the Colonel. Ho had brought the Colonel'* own horse and dog-cart, of which lie hnd been left In charge, and as they drove back to hl* bungalow together, he gave him several l: ... fl ' I ""-I ' il'-v having proposed to nnd been refused by Diana Knollys, Cuhiuel Prinsep had already heard. “I cannot Imagine Lennox Grey going ••• »urtitisr," he said. "I only wish I hnd been here to see," "You will find Miss Knox much changed, I fancy," said the Adjutant presently. "How?" asked the Colonel, quietly; nnd Mr. Graeme hesitated, not knowing exactly how to explain. "1 think she is grown," he blurted ont nt length, and feeling that he had made a ridiculous remark, wa* the first to laugh. The Colonel luugllisl. t<s>. “S'-nro-ly that, I should think." he said, carelessly, "seeing that she was eighteen when 1 left Alipore." On the fidlowing morning, at the timn nppointi-il. the Colonel called for Valentine Graeme, nnd together they repaired to the Quartermaster's house. How strange it sevmad, the Colonel thought, that ho should bo going up th* well-known drive again! Formerly it had been as June's lover he had gone, and Jane, herself radiant with delight, hnd come hnif-way to meet him. Now ho wa* going us nn ordinary visitor to make s morning call. Coming in from out of the sunlight, the room seetmsl a little dark, but clearly enough across the intervening spate Jane nnd Stephen. Prinsep recognized each other. He hnd thought alio might blush all* hnd blnahod *o easily when h« knew hot last perhaps even look confnseil. rendering it the more imperative for him to retain his self-possession. But as far as h* could see in the dimly lighted room, sb* did neither. She was standing by the window in an attitude of easy grace he thought he had never seen her adopt before. He isiuld interpret now- Vai Graeme's clumsy attempt at explanation of the change that six months had worked in her. The change was the great one from girl to woman. Beside her was Blount of the Rifles, talking to her with his most dandified air --"the A. D. C. swagger," Valentino Graeme contemptuously named it in his own mind. Mrs. Knox was also in the room, talking to Barry Larron. and she rose instantly, murmuring some unintelligible wards of greeting. She knew he had returned, nnd that he might show his displeasure by avoidance of them, or that he might, in spite of whnt occurred, still love and wish to win her daughter, but for this friendly visit she was not prepared. “It is the Colonel. Jane," she said, after a short, uncomfortable pause, Jane moved forward with outstretched hand. “We heard you had come,” she observed, smiling, “but had not expected to have seen you so soon." I He looked down at her gravely, reproachfully almost. I ln<! she indeed bcI come so hearth s* that she could utterly ignore what had been between them, and meet and speak to him thus without embarrassment? On the third linger of her left hand was a massive silver ring she had never worn before. It was the sort of a ring a mnn in Sergeant Lynn's rank of life might give as a token of betrothal. Could it be that she wa* bound to him still? "It was natural," he answeris!, coldly, at last, "that my first visits should be paid to those in the regiment.” "Then we are not to suppose that it was n wish to see us, personally, that brought you?" *he asked—impertinently, her mother thought. "However badly I expressed myself, I hope you will believe it was a pleasure as well as a duty,” ho returned, bowing, with what Vai Graeme, who hnd a name for everything, called his grand seigneur manner. (To be continueiL) A Fraudulent Banker. The other evening a stylish and gentlemanly looking individual stepped into one of the leading restaurants of Paris, took his seat at a table and ordered a very fine dinner. When it was rerv- : ed up, ho tackled the dishes with the placid delight of a genuine epicure. When lie was half through the dessert, n closed cab drew up at the door of the establishment, and a grave looking gentleman requested permission to look through tlie premises, as he expected to find there a fraudulent banker, whom he as a detective was iustrueted to take into custody. Os course his demand was complied with, and no sooner had he entered the dining-room than lie pointed to the luxurious reveller aud whispered in the landlord's ear: "You see, our information was correct. There he is. But for your own sake we prefer to avoid a row. Please tell rhe gentleman that his friend. Baron L.. is outside and wishes to speak to him for a minute.” On receiving the message our gastronomist immediately rose from the table and went out on the boulevard, where he was taken possession of by the detective, who put him in the cab and drove off with him. Next day the restaurant keeper went to the uenrest police office to recover payment for the fraudulent banker's dinner, amounting to about sixty francs, lint neither the commissary nor ids subordinates knew anything of the supposed capture. In the end It turned out to be nothing more nor less than a clever bit of comedy got up for the purpose of enabling one of tin* actors to have a "good blowout" Contortionists. The dexterity of a skilled jierformer is due solely to practice. Contortionists are generally taught at an early age, beginning with some simple mo Hons, like bending backward until the head touches the floor, and rising again without the aid of the hands. From tills more difficult feats are learned, nntll the muscles and joints become so supple that the whole frame can be twisted to any angle without discomfort and with apparent ease. Truth may languish, but It can never perish.

HORRORS IN ARMENIA TURKS ANO KURDS ARE THIRSTING FOR BLOOD. At! Moalcma Ale lli-cooiliig Ar on sell - HhoulJ the l‘roi>iict Declare Wor, Butcbcrlra Would Ho Terrible Huitan Hop*., the Power* Will Quarrel Alarm for Couxtuiitltiople. The heart grow* sick over the recital of the outrugi's and butchery of the Aruii'idan* by tho Turk*. So fearful were the ma**ucre* that It wm> hard to place reliance ii|m>h the earlier report* from the acene of disturbance. But u* report after report came In they only confirm'd the inhuman treatment heaped upon the helpless follower* of Christianity. The testimony from n number of sources, whose reliability is undisputed, is that the worst lias yet to be told. The latest advice* are that the extermina'ion of the Artncnintis goes right on despite the protest* of Christendom and the presence of the warships of the civilized power* in Turkish waters. The Sultan cannot stop the butchery even if he so willed. Hi* time is taken up in planning to ward off the assassins who are necking his life. Therefore the murderous Turks arc left free to carry out their blood-thirsty propensities. I,’ntil a checkrein can be applied to these uniformed ruffians the massacre will go on in spite of the appeals brought to bear to have them stopped. For days past Turks nnd Kurils havv Ihm-h pouriug iuto Constantinople from th« devastated regions of Asia Minor. Their primary object is the disposal of the plunder which they have obtained during the massacres. They are also hopeful of a richer harvest in the event of the Sultan's permitting a rising at Stamboul. Their stories, coupled with the display of plunder, have inflamed the lowest class of Moslems. They are ready to seize upon the slightest provocation for an attack. It is tin wholesomely significant of this state of affairs that the government Is seizing ami dejHirtitig daily number* of Armenians of the poorest but most robust das*. It is hard for the unseeing to believe—-

1 r Ji k f v s*-3U___"U I .••-■Ab A I J \ CR ETC o. L Ol . X t — I / —— ■* MAP SHOWING THE APPROACHES TO CONSTANTINOPLE.

to realize that at this very moment, men, women and children are being butchered within sound of the guns of the fleets of Christian Europe. But such is the actual state of things, and while the sword of the Moslem runs red with Christian blood, Europe stands idly by uttering public protests, whereas she should enforce her demands until the Turk was rendered harmless for oppression or wiped from tho face of the earth. There should lie no compromise when civilization meets savagery and fanaticism the latter should go down to a resurrectionless grave. Since the beginning of the Turk s rule of the sword in Armenia, only a few month* ngo. fitMUMIO people have perislied or are on the verge, through »tarvatfiui nnd suffering, of the grave. Os these 50,000 have been butchered outright and day after day tlie outrages and tlie tragedies continue, tin* unfortunate Armenians being crushed from the earth nt the rate of nearly a thousand a day. What the sword leaves undone starvation completes, and by tlie time Europe awakes to its responsibility the Armenian question shnll have settled itself by the complete extermination of the Christian population of the country. Holy War May Come. The condition of things in Turkey under Abdul Humid is strikingly like whnt it was nearly twenty years ago under Abdul Aziz. Turkey was insolent then as she is now. In 1876 the massacres were in Bulgaria. Now they are in Armenia. Then it was tlie slaughter of Turks by Bulgarian Christians who despaired of help from tlie powers that provoked the horrible slaugliters in return. Now the Armenian Christians, despairing of help from the powers, liave planned nnd carried out an uprising, which in turn lias been put down with ferocious cruelty by tho Sultan, in 1870 All id Aziz was culled upon by the powers to introduce reforms which were tantamount to giving his Christian subjects immunities and rights not guaranteed to his Mohammedan subjects. Tlie result was that tlie latter were inflamed to a dangerous pitch of revolt. That experience is duplicated now. Nothing more dreadful could happen to Christian humanity in the remote east than the outbreak of a "holy" war, a war in which tlie followers of Mahomet should draw tlie sword of extermination against not only every Christian missionary, but every citizen of a Christian state whereever found. When it is borne in tnlnd that the followers of Mahomet number nt tho lowest calculation 2iM).(MMt.«Hi(I, some idea may be gained of whnt a general religious outbreak against Christianity ntnong them would mean. There are 5,000,000 in Egypt, vast numbers in ‘.lie colonies of Southeastern Austria, at least 40,000,000 in India and 20,000,000 mor? In other British colonies. Tho Sull mi is the recfnlzed head of the whole Moslem world,

snv* Persia »nd Moracco, wTiero the hend of the faithful I* All, son-in-law of MoI hammed. There is only one way of proclaiming n holy war. Then’ is only one num who can proclaim It. The Sultan is that man. When the formal words indaring war against u foe uro uttered, according to strict Moslem ritual, every Mohammedan In Asin or Europe must respend us he hopes to attain paradise. All •Turkey would be in nn uproar at once. The fate of Christian missionaries' to the .southwest mid southeast of the Sea of Munuoru would lie Healed. Bloodshed

— STRAITS OF THE BOBPHORCS.

would follow in all quarters of the East. Os course the powers would win in the end. The struggle would be a long one, so far as Abdul Hamid is concerned. His declaration of a holy war would mean bis own deposition; but, in the meantime, and afterward, what? In the meantime, one of the bloodiest wars of history, and afterward the revival of the rivalries of the power* in sharper form thau ever. Great Powers Foe* at Heart, Although the powers Europe have agreed to act In combiuntiou aud probably will maintain that attitude for the present, it is not believed that there is any real accord among them. They are rival* to the bitter end in the East. Their ob-

jeets are conflicting, and it is only mutual fear which avails to preserve mutual deference. The powers do not care a whit for Turkey or its sovereign, and would sweep Abdul Hamid nnd his system off the face of the earth if they acted upon their impulses. But to do away witli the Turkish empire means to invite a condition of things perhaps ten-fold worse than that which now exists. If Turkey were effaced as a geographical entity the powers would have more trouble in agreeing as to the division of the land among the conquerors than they have had over any problem of European politic*. Turkey must stand Intact under siune form of government, if the outward accord of the powers is to be maintained. The jealousies of England and Russia in Asia have been forcibly illustrated during the last twelvemonth in the JapanChina war und in the Corean imbroglio.

'-fl—l fj* - -- - Zy-• THE DARDANELLES.

But the matters nt stake there arc a men* bagatelle compared with those at the Bosphorous. It has been the steady policy of Russia for n hundred years to lose no move on tlie European chessboard that brings her nearer to Constantinople and tlie control of tlie Marmora Sen. and it is the determination of Europe that Russia shrill not occupy Constantinople. This is tlie Eastern question: Wlint to do with Constantinople? Tlie powers would take all the risks of a holy war if they could bo sure thnt the overthrow of the Turkish empire and its partition would not fatally disturb the balance of power. FORTS OF THE DARDANELLES. Whnt Gunboats Would Encounter En Route to Constantinople, Naval engineers are of the opinion that Constantinople cannot lie successfully assaulted by water. They claim that the

Dnrdanelles and the Busplionis offer *, protection that practically means the destruction of any fleet that should attempt to approach the city without th* Turk'* coiiseut. The Dnrdmieiles from Kestoa and Abydos to the Sea of Marmora is tilled with torpedoes. The high, rocky shores bristle with a double llm* of fortresses. The entrance to the Dardanelles I* narrow. The current is strong and natiire Ims done everything to make Iho strait* iuipregniible, except to furnish tho guns. The fort* on each aide are built upon modern principles and mount Krupp

l guns of heavy caliber. The two largest forts are at the narrows, the one called the Xmnazieh battery at Kilid Bahar and ; the other the Medjidieh. a little to the : northward of the town of Chanak. Both j command the approach to the narrow* and can deliver a cross tiro that would make ' a big hole in any modern fleet. The fort* arc not the chief reliance. ' The Turk has taken to the torpedo in a nay that will astonish hi* enemies. The i recent naval battles at the Y'aln River mid Port Arthur show the terrible effect i of the modern torpedo when Intelligently handled. The bottom of the Dardanelle* is lined yith torpedoes, and there are a ' number of submarine mines. The tori pedoea are arranged to be fired by elec* tricity from shore. Nearly all these fortresses along the Dardanelles have been built for many years, some for centuries. They have been remodeled again and again to keep pace with the modern progress in warfare. The Dardanelles is the Hellespont, or sea of Helle, of the asicien s. It directly connects the aridiipelngo, an arm of the Mediterranean, with the Sea of Marmora, which is practically the immense harbor of Constantinople. It is very narrow, and resembles rather a river at its mouth than a veritable sea. Defenses on the Bosphorus. Coming to Constmitinoule from tha east, through the Bosphorus from the Black Sea, are heavy batteries on almost every point on either side. At the two Kovas, where the channel of the Bosphorus narrows, there i* a formidable array of fortifications. They are arranged for, a cross-tire, and five of them are of recent I construction. These mount thirty heavy I Krupp guns each and are capable of aink« ' ing any war ship. The Turk has been busily fortifying his frontiers since bis I last war with Russia, and be is now in a : liettcr position to fight than ever before. The old fortresses of Asia and Europe stand on either shore of the Bosphorus, alHiut half way up. where the channel is I unusually narrow, and at n point once i traveled by the celebrated bridge of DaI riiis. The fort of Asia, Anadoii Hissari, rises ou the lip of a pleasant rivulet, | which empties itself into the Bosphorus. The fort of Europe. Roumtffi. Hissnri, on | tlie opoaite shore, is of singular construe- ; tiou. The ground plan forms the characters of the prophet's name, by whom tradition says it was built in six days, by permission of the Greek Emperor. This . fort possesses great strength, strategic i nud defensive. It is well supplied with ; water nnd the means of storing provisI ions. The city of Constantinople itself occupies a triangular prornonotor.v above the Propontis. It lins been strongly fortified I on all sides, including the side washed by the sen and that which is the base of tlie ■ triangle nnd connects it with tlie main- | land. Tlie walls extend twelve miles, sweeping from sea to sen, running along | tin* whole length of the harbor and terminating in the celebrated fortress of the : Seven Towers. At points the foundation of tlie walls is formed by huge masses of rock, a specie* of architecture still to be traced in a few of the most ancient Grecian structures nnd formerly termed Cyclopnean. In other ports, particularly on the side of Marmorn, the I ninsonry commences regularly from tho edge of »he water. The most ancient portion of the walls is necessarily that which i incloses tho ancient Byzantium. iu>w known as the Seraglio I’oint, where tha

apex of tlie triangle divides tlie Propontis front tlie port, and instead of being peopled by tlie busy multitude of tlie city, is silent in the stateliness of its gilded palace and overhanging groves. These walls that arc now standing were built over l.ootl years ago. The body of an unknown girl, who committed suicide at a fashionable boarding house, ami who is supposed to be from Canada, lies nt tlie morgue tit Buffalo. It is that of it young woman abont 24 years old. There is no clew to her identity mid even tlie marks on her linen have been obliterated as if with careful purpose. Tho I’iri* Figaro reveals an alleged secret in President Entire's family history which proves to have been simply that his wife's mother was abandoned by her husband two months after her marriage.