Democratic Press, Volume 2, Number 89, Decatur, Adams County, 25 June 1896 — Page 3

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■ CHAPTER X. Rn-tt « :l * n " w , ’” 1 " '"'*** t - int Eaiil.v had been married to Harn r.‘ aii'l If had very few i|..itbt« a* I I! the identity " f Henry Richards. But two object* in view in remain\t ClhO'leii possibly three. Hi* own Htrsonai affairs required much '-xpl.m.lIK','. ,-,-oni hi* uncle and erstwhile guard ■ John Satterthwaite. who might be I K.le <• inform him of the whereabout* of K..u.er or Richard*. And then, could K‘< Emily intend to marry Handwithout first having proof positive the death of Spencer? Surely not. yet. the landlord had n»sunsl him K lt Handford was the only man who ■ i probably gained her affections. and Kt be had certainly spent much of his in her company. his retirement in Rosedale. had i'Cen more or less enforced, had held m> communication whatever Kith the outside world. All his business been transacted with the rascal Ki’att*. acting as John Satterthwaite's Katidential agent, and Brett had b en Kindly unaware of the movements of his and cousin until magnanimously in K>rtued by De Watts when that individual K-l an undisguised visit to It .sedale ■bout a month prior to the night of the Hi-.rJer of Sarah Browne. Hone thing he was determined upon. Ib' ■i ~11,1 see his uncle at all hazards and exHoe De Watts’ true character. At the Kroe time he would attempt to establish His own rectitude in the eyes of J.dm SatKrthwaite. Max did not doubt that he Hould also find an opportunity to learn Han,-thing of Emily's plans and. if nee Hssary. put in a good word for his friend Hiehardk 9 Max was compelled to admit to himself Hi.it he was in a very awkward position, Hud but for his love for Annette Spencer. Hud the solemn promise which that love Had prompttai, he would certainly have Ha ked out. ■ While arguing in his own mind a* to Hl? best course to pursue. Brett had walkKi all the way to Chesden Park, and when He called a mental halt he was passing Hliroiigh a grove of venerable beech trees. 9 The moon that had lighted his way now His appeared behind a black cloud and left Him in darkness. When, only a hundred Eards distant, he beheld the well-lit flail, Hlax realized that he was in his uncle's Krivate premises, and knew that it diacovHnd by the gardeners or game keepers He was liable to be treated rather harshly. Ks he thought of retracing his steps he Hoticed that some people were moving Hbout the lower rooms of the great house. Hliese moved toward tile main door, which Hbey opened and closed again. A few Hviiuents elapsed, and Max heard footHteps approaching, and ns they came nearHr he could distinguish voices engaged in Honversation. He remained quietly beHind a giant beech tree, and presently Hua le out the outlines of an elderly gen-Hli-iuin, evidently enjoying hi» post- primHi.il cigar, and a graceful 4 mug woman. Hast as they wore almost directly opposite the young American, tju moon again ■l'peared and lit up the scene with her Hilvery beams. Max was thus enabled to Bo"!; upon his uncle and cousin for the ■rst time in six years. To him they ■coined but slightly altered, except that Sir. Satterthwaite had grown a trifle more ■onuilent. But, however much interested So was in their appearance, their conversation attracted Brett’s attention the ■nest. Having already heard his own kame mentioned, he crouched forward as far as pozsible that he might hear better. “Who, then,” said his uncle, “who. then, do you suppose the young man is? If he came this afternoon he must have tun against Handford at the hotel. I think myself he is from across the water, but who is he?” “I’ll tell you, father, who I think it is. I believe it is none other than Cousin Max." "He’s a confoundedly impudent young Icoundrel, If it is he,” growled the old tentlcman. “But I have my doubts.” "Are you not a little bit hard on Max, father? He has been rather wild, perbaps—but I really believe he has not been toeked. You will aee, now, if I am not tight. For his foolishness he will call up here ami ask your forgiveness.” "No!” exclaimed the squire. "No, he •fill not see me, unless ” 1 But the wind rustled the leaves of the trees, and the balance of the sentence was ost to Max. "You will see me, and that to-morrow," nattered Max, ns he emerged from hi* ’lace of concealment and retraced his Steps to the hotel. He entered the parlor of the Arms fifteen minutes later, in time to catch the garrulous landlord in the act of entertaining a liveried servant 'With an elaborate description of his latest guest "from Amerlky." Brett took in tlie situation at a glance, and surmised that the flunky was part of the Chesden Bull furniture, who was possibly seeking information for his cousin Emily. Max was ever ready for work or for fun, •tnd if he could combine-the two he felt it was so much the better, and a clear gain <’f time. So he tapped the landlord on the ■shoulder and quietly said: "Just another smoke before we go to Bed, landlord—and bring your friend flong. 1 feel like a bit of gossip to-night; anything to liven one up." "But,” «nid the astonished bonifaee, ■“mv friend is one of the Hall servants!" 1 "My dear fellow.” replied Brett. "I ktonie from n democratic country, where We live under 11 Republican form of govicric.seat and, on paper at least, believe one '•xcit f be as good as another. At any

rate, when I nm in the humor I don't care a continental whether I hobnob with a laok»y or his employer. And surely, if the honorable secretary of state to his excellency the President of I tah ctotosea to enjoy the society of an English servant, I siie no reason why the servant should object—do you?” The landlord shuffled off. considerably overwhelmed by his guest's startling announcement. lie had suppoevsl Max to bo an ordinary young man, perhaps possessed of ample means, but when he was Informed, for he drank in what Brett had said ns gospel truth, that he was in the presence of a live cabinet minister in the person of the honorable secretary of state to the President of I'tah, he completely "wilted.” And if the landlord was surprised. the footman was still more so, and the starch which is supposed to abound in livery clothes speedily disappeared. Our friend's object was to detain the servant at the inn until morning, a stroke of policy winch he proposed to carry out by making the man sleepy. This he could do by a judicious combination of strong cigars, late hours and much talking. The servant wtis very shy and awkward at first, but when he was compelled to admit. in his own mind, that "the honorable gent” was a "no end social chap,” 'ang me if he ain't." the fellow became* as talkative as Max himself —which on that particular occasion meant a good deal. Before one hour had passed Mar had learned all the tradition* and stock gossip of Chesden from the old inn keeper, and had been favored with all the family history of the Satterthwaite* from the footman. The clock in the steeple of the ancient parish church struck one when Brett gained hi* point and. with keen satisfaction gazed upon the vanquished servant. as that worthy fell into a heavy sleep with his head upon the table. Pretty soon the landlord toddled off and Max, after turning the key in the lock of the parlor, made his way to bis bed chamber. But. late, or early, as it was, before he retired he addressed an envelope to a certain young lady at Chicago. CHAPTER NT. Max Brett was up and on his way to Chesden Hall before either landlord or servant had slept off the effects of the wine. His uncle had. from his youth up. ever been an early riser, mid Max rightly concluded that the morning would be the best time to call. If circumstances permitted, he proposed to obtain an interview with his cousin Emily, but his unde he wishtsl to see first. The large Hall door was opened by a servant who had not yet rubbed ull the sleepiness from his small eyes. "Is Mr. Satterthwaite about?" asked Max. "Yes, sir. Your card, please.” Brett was taken by surprise. He had no cards with him save the business cards of Rose and Company. These were all more or less soiled, but he handed one of them to the man. "Tell him," said Max. “that I will detain him but n few moments —that I leave tin* town this afternoon and must see him now.” The servant was gone several moments before lie returned to Max and motioned to that individual to follow him. He led the way to a richly furnished reception room and said that his master would be down shortly. Max had not long to wait, for presently the massive oak door swung oi«*n and the squire, clad in a long embroidered dressing gown, appeared. For some moments the two men gazed nt each other in silence, and Max was the first to break the ice, which he did by proffering his hand, as he exclaimed: "I’nele!” "Sir!” was the cold reply. But Max was not in a mood to be repulsed. "1 suppose, Uncle John, you forgot nil about me when you settled in England?” The older man interrupted him, impatiently. "You have obtained this interview under false pretenses," he said. "If you had sent up your own card instead of that of your employers, 1 could have been spared the annoyance of meeting you. Now that volt are here, please state your business briefly. If you have no business, I will wish yon good morning." But Max had fully expected this kind of treatment, and he was quite ready for the fight to commence. “Yes, sir, I have business with you, as you must very welt know." “Then kindly state it as quickly as possible.” "No, uncle. Why should then* be nny haste on my part when you have been so outrageously tardy in dealing with me?" "I suppose you really are my nephew," said Mr. Satterthwaite. "But do not presume too much upon that tie —which, for my part. 1 would gladly sever. Have some respect for my years and for the house von are now in. Once again, what is it that you desire?” “I wish to know, Fncle John, when you propose to make your final settlement with me on my mother's estate? Why did you compel me to live out in the West ampng strangers, even if 1 had committed II paltry, youthful indiscretion? Why did you send that rascally De Watts out there to play spy on my actions and, lor all 1 know, to rob me? Tell me that—and. while you are answering questions, tell me If you are going to let Emily marry again when 1 have undoubted proof that Harry Spencer is not only alive, but is trying to lead an upright, honorable life? Give me satisfactory replies to ull these

questions, and I will leave you Immediately." At the mention of his daughter's husband, John Satterthwaite completely lost his temper. His countenance became fierce, his eyes flashed ami he could scarce control himself. "Sir," said he in n shaky voice, "bo careful! I made a Una! settlement with you more than a year age.** "How?" 1 "In cash.” "Through whom?* "De Watts." "The amount?" "Twenty-four thousand five hundred dollars.** "No. air; no such settlement has been made with me." "Ah—what is that you any?” “I repeat that I have received Do such sum or anything like It." "But 1 bold your receipt." “If you do, you hold a rank piece of forgery!" “You are making a wild assertion—a wicked assertion, that you may have to prove." "1 am stating a fact, nevertheless. If you hold a receipt, purporting to be signed by me. for twenty-four thousand five hundred dollar*, you hold a forged document. For I hare never in ail my life given a rec<*ii»t for so large a sum of money." "So far as I kno<w," anid the squire. “Do Watt* has always acted in an honest and straightforward manner. However, if you will put into writing what you have just stated, I will see that your charges are properly and thoroughly investigated.” “Thank you. uncle; you need not trouble. I will do all the Investigating that is necessary. I would like to reserve for myself the satisfaction of hunting down that accomplished scoundrel. Indeed, I left Roaedale with that fixed Intention, and had I not been hampered through lack of means, should have run him down luug since.” “Go slowly, if you please. Remember that a blow at De Watts is apt to strike me also,” said Mr. Satterthwaite, rather agitated. "That I cannot help. The blow must fall, no matter who it strikes. But, my dear sir, why did you appoint that dyed-in-the-wool raaeal as your accredited agent, giving him power of attorney and entrusting him with cash and valuable papers? Where an* the old business principles that made you so successful in New York?” "De Watts wtis an old friend. w)b«ni I had frequently tried without finding him wanting. It was not convenient for me to travel West, and so, thinking it for the best and being anxious to get rid of your affairs, I selected De Watts to act between us.” , "Well, he's a nice confidential agent, he is!" retorted Max. “The citizens of Rosedale Would like to amuse themselves with him for about fifteen minutes!” "Why?" “For the simple reason that De Watts' crowning rascality was the committal of a most revolting murder.” “No, not murder!" “Yes, murder—the murder of a woman worth twenty of such villains.” “Who was the woman?” "One Sarah Browne.” "Heivens. man! So that poor woman is murdered and by De Watts!” “Yes, by your old and tried friend. So you knew Sarah Browne?” “Yes—er—no—no, that is, I did not know her. What more have you to say? I am not at all well this morning." "Only a few words aliout Emily's husband. Will you listen?" John Satterthwaite gave a start as though he had been stabbed by an unseen /larfrer. "What do you mean,” he gasped, “is he dead, too?” "< tn the contrary, he is alive and mending his ways considerably. He is now a sober, upright man, deserving of any one's esteem." “You know him?” "Os course I do.” "Does he know where Emily is—that she is here?” “I guess so, for I judge he has been to Chesden once, at least.” "So! Did he see Emily?” "I think not—at least, I think she did not see him." "What was ho after?” "That Ido not know. He is a friend of mine, so that I would not abuse his confidence by carrying his private affairs to you, even if I had them to carry.” “You say,” said the squire, “that you wish for my friendship?” “Certainly, but uot at the expense of my other friend's. Harry Spencer is my friend and, I am proud to say, so is his sister, who will be my wife ns soon as we can place Harry on his feet once more. His mother and sister >ike his disgrace and bnuishmeut from society very much to heart.” "You rettlly mean all tills—you will positively marry that girl—into that family, knowing all that you do know?” "Most certainly.” "You know that Harry is a scamp. You are prejudiced in his favor just now, but in fact he is a worthless character, ami I have a notion that his sister ” But if the squire was a Sattertlnvalte, so was Max. At his uncle's words the hot blood rushed through his veins and he seized a chair which he held threateningly over the head of the older man. John Satterthwaite was held at buy, but his passion was so great that the blood ruahed in a torrent to his face and head, and he fell senseless to the floor. Max rang a bell and servants soon arrived. who were speedily followed by Emily and the doctor. Brett rendered ull the assistance he could, and then strolled out on to the pleasant terrace, where ho lit a cigar and waited for news of his uncle. In half an hour Emily herself appeared. “Cousin Emily," said Max quietly, “how are you?” "How do you do, Cousin Max?” replied the girl just ns calmly. "How is your father now?" he asked. "He is in no danger, and is resting quietly. Come up and see 1110 at another time," she udded, as she turned to re-enter the house. But Mux only bowed politely and left the Hall. He required time to think—which lie did all the way back to the hotel. He concluded that it would do no good to stay longer at Chesden. He believed that, his uncle's temper once cooled, he would rationally think over matters and would see things pretty much as Max himself saw them. He believed that, eventually, he would be able to count upon John Satterthwaite's support. De Walts was the man that Max was after now, and he proposed to lose no more time in starting in pursuit of that individual. He left Chesden that afternoon, but the chocolate and gold omnibus had uot pro-

cemleil more than a mile on Its way to* wards London, when the driver was hailed by a horsvmuii following nt full speed. This was no other than the servant whom Max had aent to aleep the night ls*fore nt the Arms. He reeognled Brett, mid without uttering n word handed him a largo and bulky envelope, fastened with n ph>« fusion of sealing wax. Then tin* man turned bls homo about and was auon lost lu the illMtllle e (To bo continued.) WHY THEY HUNG BILL. ilo Wan a Geritleiiiun and They Were Jealous of Him, Buck of Duvnll'a Bluff, lu Arkmmns, la n country where aelioola tire aenreu nud civilisation of the moat primitive tyjai. A prominent attorney of Washlugton had occasion to go down there a abort time ago to look after aoine hind titles, find stopped over night nt a log cnbiti, which contained one room and 11 loft. The only occupant wna a whlto* haired old num, too feeble to walk without the nld of n heavy cane. “Are you uot lonely here?" asked tho lawyer. “Yep.” “Have you no friends to whom you can go?" "I reckon my darter ’<l koer fer me, In Memphis, but bein' sartln Providence air my way. I'm atuylu’, hopin' ter git übout by spring.” "How long have you lived alone?" “ 'Bout a y'ar. Yo' ace, my son Bill war with me. H“ went to Texas, an’ cum home one of the uioa' puSec* gentlemen yo' ever need. Au' that high* epereted, yo' could nee he war dlffrunt from tho low-down trnsh 'roun' byar. So a passel of ’em got together an' hung *lm right down tiiar by the spring." “Hung Him! Whnt for?" nsked the astonished disciple of Blackstone. "Jess 'cause they were jealous of hie livin' like a gentleman an’ bein' highepereted. One of 'em come an’ stole Bill's lies' holin’ pup, an' in cose Bill, bein’ a gentleman, war In honor Isiuu' ter shoot the thief, which he did. As purty a shot ns yo’ ever lu-ed. Feller never butted an eye. Then his lowdown fr'eu's come an' hung Bill. I'm jess Htayin* here till rheutnatls gits so 1 kin stomp 'roun' a leetle, nud git a few of ’em. and then I'll go to my darter’s. I've lH*vn that po'ly, I ain't had m> shot at none of ’em ylt, but I’ll gij 'em lu the spring." Bit a Spike in Two. There is a inn 11 named Louis Essex, who resides at 224 Broome street, who called at the Mercury office yesterday ami remarked that he understood that some other man was bragging liecnuse he could bite a ten-penny uail in two without any trouble. Mr. Essex explained that he was 23 years old and learned to bite nails, and finally railroad spikes. Into sections through bis habit of eating beefsteak at certain East Side restaurants. “It was good training. 1 tell you.” remarked the man with the mighty ti*etli. as in* drew from ids pockets a spike liig enough to hold down a house during a blizzard. "Are you going to bite that?” was asked. “Certainly, if you want me to. That's whnt 1 came for. nud I want to prove that biting off pieces of ten-penny nails ain't in it with this sort of mastication. If I'd only thought, I’d have brought down one of those Iwefsteaks I used to practice on.” "Well, go ahead with your biting.” Essex whistled for his assistant, who ajqieared carrying a piece of beam and a hammer. "You sec," explained the biter, "it would be impossible to hold the nail stiff enough to chew a chunk off. so I hammer it In this beam,” ami the assistant proeeedeil to hammer, to the great discomfiture of tho brain-work-ers within earshot. Then Mr. Essex grabbed himself firmly by the hips and bending over brought bls teeth down on the spike about an inch and a half from tho hend. He wrestled with It for about fifteen seconds and then the cracking sound .made it a question ns to whether it was caused by teeth or Iron.—New York Mercury. Hits the Mark. Sir Charles Dilke has informed a Berlin newspaper that England has no fear of Germany’s rivalry in the manufacturing Industries or In foreign trade, in both of which "England fears but one rival, the United States.” This long-headed Englishnuin Is astute. Tills country has already beaten England in some of the manufacturing industries, and is her rival in nearly all of them. It has beaten her in some of the world's markets and will beat her in more of them. It is not in the interest of mankind that England should control foe clgu trade.—New York Sun. Must Please the Bride. In Dakota queer weddings gifts ato in vogue. Following is u list of presents received at a recent wedding: A bull pup. a yellow dog. 11 water spaniel, a meerschaum pipe am! tobacco pouch, a good shotgun, a bowle knife, a rifle, three dogs, a game rooster, one fiddle, one banjo, one spotted pup, one English mastiff and a pair of sllven mounted pistols. Canada's Militia. The active Canadian militia, on Its present peace footing, consists of 1,087 eavalry, 1,440 field artillery. 2,342 garrison artillery, 213 engineers, and 31,388 Infantry, giving a total of 37.400 men, all of whom are taken from the first class. Not Informed Anntomicntly, Mrs. oJFtcake -Silas, why do they call these clams ‘‘little necks?” Farmer Oatcake (cautiously)—l dunno, Nancy; I warn't around when he cut the heads off o’ them!—New York Herald. When a woman gives a party, slio also gives the neighbors an opportunity to talk about her.

SOUTH AFRICAN NATIVES. the Three Native llairs that Inhabit Gie loutilry. When the Dutch fixed their flrat post it Cape Town, 111 ioTC. with no thought ilther of eoloiilxation or of conquest, yiit for the nake of lulling giirdens which could supply vegetal les to the •etirvy stricken crews of their ship* Milling t<» the East, they found three intlvu races inhabiting the country, me of these, the Bushmen, though few In numbers, wits widely scattered >ver the whole of South Africa. They wen* noumtls of almost the lowfrst kind, with a marvelous faculty for tracking and trapping wild enlmnls, but neither ■wiling ciitth* nor tilling the soil, with scarcely even tt trlvul organisation, no religion, and a language consisting of 1 succession of clicks. I liable to ticcustom tliellis«*)ves to civilized life, driven out of some districts by the settlers. and In others no longer able to llnd support, owing to the extinction of game, they tire now almost extinct, though n few are still left in the deserts of the Kalahari and northern Bechunnaland. Before many years the only trace of their existence will In* In the remarkable drawings of animals with which they delighted to cover the smooth surfaces of rocks. These drawings, which are found all the way from the Zambesi to the Cape, and front Maniacland to the Atlantic, are executed in red and yellow pigments, ami are often full of •plrlt and character. Tite seistnd race was that which the Dutch called Hottentot. They wen* of 1 reddiah or yellowish bln<-k hue, taller than tlie Bushmen, but with squat ind seldom muscular figures a thoughtless, cheerful, easy-going people, who roved hither and thither with their flocks ami herds as they could find pasture. They were decidedly «u---perior to the Bushmen, whom they hated, but quite unable to withstand Europeans, and their numlters rapidly declined, partly from tlie loss of their best grazing gtounds. but largely, also, through epidemic diseases, and especially smallpc.x. which ships, touching on their way from India, brought Into tho country. They are now, as a distinct race, almost extinct in the Colony, though a good deal of their blood has passed into the mixed black population of Cajte Town and its neighborhood- a population the other elements of which are Malays and west-coast negroes, the descendants of slaves imported in the last century. Farther north, on the south side of the Grange River, ami beyond i" in Namagualand. small tribes cognate to the Hottentots still wander over tlie dreary plains. Very different from these weak Bushmen and Hottentots was. and is. the third native race, those who are called Bantu in word meaning “pi-ople") by themselves and Kafirs by Europeans. The word Kafir is Aralile, and means an Infidel (literally "one who denies”). It is applied by Mussulmans not merely to these South Africans, tint to other heathen: as. for instance, by the Afghans to tlie idolaters of Kaliristnn. In the Hindu-Kush Mountains. The Portuguese probably took the name from the Arabs, whom they found already settled on the east coast. These Bantu tribes if we may class those as Bantus who sjieak languages of wiiat is called the Bantu type- fill all East Africa from :lie regions of the l’pp«*r Nile southward. Those who dwell south of the Zambesi are generally strong and wellmade men. sometimes as black as a Gulf of Guinea negro, sometimes verging on a brown tint; and though they have tlie woolly hair and thick lips generally ciiaraeteristlc of tlie negro. Individuals are often found among them whose cast of features suggests an admixture of Semitic blood. They are more prolific that tlie Hottentots, as well as physically stronger and better made, and they were further advanced in tlie arts of life. Some of the tribes dug out and worked iron mid copper; all of them used iron. Their chief wealth lay in their cattle; horses they did not possess, but where tlie land was tit for tillage they cultivated it. They had no religion, except in a sort of magic, and that worship of tlie ghosts of ancestors, which seems to lie the most widely diffused of all human superstitions. Instead of a priesthood, there were wizards or niedlcine-inen, often powerful ns the denouncers of those whom the chief wished to put to death. Intellectually they were very much upon tlie level of the native races of West Africa. Century. An Eskimo Paper. The most northern newspniHT published, the Eskimo Bulletin, is issued with some regularity, though not at very frequent intervals, at tlie American mission school at ('ape Prince of Walt's. Alaska, within one degree of tin* Arctic circle. Tlie paper, which is edited by Mr. W. T. Lopp. tin* missionary at this point, is not printed, but written and duplleated'by the hektograph pr<x*ess. Its matter is naturally such ns would Interest tlie dwellers in that hyperlMinsin region; mid being sin h, it contains many items of curious Interest also to people in other parts of tlie world. For instance, its "locals" run in tills picturesque fashion: "No whales." "A liig walrus catch.” "Ice la unfavorable for white bears.” "In February Ab-hong-n netted Hinder tlie lee) sixty seals in live days." "On several trips the I.' Ksloa dogteam lias made sixty miles per day.” "Ti-now-gorz-ga and Noo-toodl-got, who have been staying here tills winter, will return to their home in Asia in a few days." Tlie Eskimo Bulletin has plenty of time to collect personal Items, for it Is issued but once a year. Tlie copy in liatid is dated June, 1895, and it contains nr, explanation to tin* effect that, on account of tlie unavoidable alisenee of Mr. Lopp at Port Clarence, "tin. Eskimo Bulletin for the year ’93-’94 was not Issued." in spite of this tendency to Irregularity, the price of the

psjn*r 1* malntnlni'd nr Fl n ye*r—< which, of cottrae, means Fl it uinnber. This ranks It in cost quite abreast of the English reviews. The Bulletin contains an eloquewt ap* pen! for mull fncllltitvi for Alnskit. "Russia," It says, “lias mail* carried to and from Its Inlmbltnnts scattered over the wilds of Siberia by dog and deer, Cnn't our Government do us much for Arctic Alaska?" The |gijH*r also has a "s|Hs*lnl dispatch," chronicling tin* discovery of gold nt Golovin Bay: but ns the dis* patch is dated March, 1895, while th< paper Itself Is dated June, it does lio| appear that the dispatch was trans* mitted by a very swift wire. The advertl»»*ments In tho Bulletin are. If anything, more Interesting than the news Items. They run In the following truly Arctie fashion: “BLUBBER. Ten scsl bags of whale and walrus oil to exchange for blue anil snltnon-lsTrles. MUNG NoK." "FN-UT-KOOT, Oot-niadl-lg wok, Drnuieopiithic doctor nml wlnd-clinrm-er." NO LUCK, NO PAY." Several of the advertisements bring out the fact that an Eskimo, after lie has a son. Is no longer known by his own name, but by that of his son. For Instance, “Ok-ba-ok's father” udvertlsi*s that he Imports Sllierlan wolverine trimmings, and “11-la-yok's father” wishes to hear of n blnck dog which he lost "last full moon, two sleeps’ journey north of the Cape." Os course an Arctic jmper would not be complete without some account of Arctic feminine fashions In dress. anJ the Bulletin's "fashion Items" run thus: "Only ladles in mourning wear bangs.” "Belts made of the skin of wolverine feet, claws, on, with suspender buckles, slelgli-bells and door-keys dangling, are all the rage.” "Bed-ticking Is the most popular cloth worn over the fur suit this season." CROW INOPPORTUNELY. Hold Chanticleer Frequently Declares Himaclf at the Wrong Time. Roosters are famous for crowing at the wrong time. If they once start tc crow they are bound to finish. You can't stop them. A famous old physician up in Hagerstown, who was a member of the vestry, once earrieil hit game rooster to the main iu a bag, because be hail to stop at a vestry meeting on the way, and he did not wish the parson aud the other vestrymen tc see where he was going. But it was no use. The rooster lift«*d up his voice from the depths of the bag and disturbed the meeting. You cant suppress a rooster. If he makes up hit mind to crow, no considerations of expediency can influence him to stop. A Baltimore boy had a line Plymouth Rock rooster which was decorated with a beautiful tall, and he was altogethei proud of his appearance. The Iwy last summer sent him up to the farm aud at first lie was a great success. The country hens flocked around him and admired his tine feathers aud his city ways. But his happiness only endured for'a season. One day he began t< moult and he did not stop in time. H« kept on molting until he looked like the cook had picked him ready to boil fol chicken soup. Then the bens left him aud another rooster became cock of the walk, and evilly treated our friend. Thenceforth he had to go lit a flock by himself. When he found a worm and elueked for the hens to come and enjoy It they turned up their noses at bin. and the rival rooster would fly at hint aud eat the worm and prevail mightily against him. And so all the summei the piMtr bird ate the bread of affliction In solitude. Hens are like women in another respect. They cannot ke,-p a secret any more than a rooster can stop crowing A hen will spend a half day looking sot a safe and secret place to lay her fresh egg. And no sooner has she found it and put her egg there than she jump) off the nest and gives the whole snap away by cackling as if her heart would break. Tlie more Important a secret the hen has the more Impossible It is for her to keep It. What she hears in the ear she proclaims on tlie housetop If a hen has a brood with only one chicken In It she makes as much fuss over that one chicken ns a woman would over ninety and nine children and grandchildren and weariesseverybody with It. And If she happens to hatch out a duck it Is painful to see what a goose she makes of herself about It. Base Calumny. Frederick Lemaitre. the well-known actor, would expect the musicians to exhibit the same eagerness to hear him nt the fiftieth performance as on the first night. He expressly forbade them to read their papers In the orchestra during the Intervals of playing. The leading clarionet nt one of the houses obstinately refused to submit, and wont on reading as usual. Frederick protested. swore, raved, and asked the name of the recalcitrant clarionet player. Just at that moment, the musician passed through the greenroom. "Is It you," said Frederick, la angy tones, "who has had the audacity to read in the orchestra during my great lovescene?" “1?" said the clalronet; “what it foul slander! You have been misinformed, M. Frederick I was asleep!" How to Remove a I ishhook. The angling season being well on, the usual number of mishaps will occur with the fish-hook. When this accident happens the hook, if not too deeply Imbedded In the flesh, may generally be removed without surgical aid. If the hook is fastened in tho hand cut the line from the hook, turn tho point upward and push It through as a needle would be In sowing. If the hook has a broad end or eye snip this off before attempting to remove It. Do not try to draw the hook out backward, as the barb will Lacerate aud Inflame the flesh.