Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 May 1896 — Page 5

WORTH WINNING

CHAPTER XVL—(Continued.) If it is a platitude to say that, once abandon the right path, we know not whither we may stray, it is one that cannot be repeated too often. Here waa a fearful case in point Not only did this youth grow up utterly dead to all moral principle, but, some ten years after the first evil step had been taken, the perpetrators found themselves in the following appalling situation: Hammersley is a female title. It so happened that when Cyril was seventeen, and at Eton —no doubt having been ever cast upon his genuineness—the poor idiot cripple, who had hardly ever known a day's health, breathed his last. Lord and Lady Hammersley'had no more children after he was born. Unless then her ladyship betook herself to another world, and my lord were to marry again, it was evident that the title and estates ought, at his death, to devolve upon the next legitimate heir, who was no other than our plain friend Jack Forbes, his father’s mother having been an Acton, daughter of the eighth Viscount and fourteenth Baron Hammersley. Here, then, was the fearful dilemma, as it did not fail to present itself to the unhappy present bearer of the title. Either he must proclaim himself a cheat or he must do his cousin Forbes a monstrous wrong. To do the viscount justice, he not only hesitated long and sorely over the momentous questions, but he actually arrived at the very brink of taking the right and honorable course. Unhappily his wife talked him over. Perhaps that was just what he wanted. Needless to say that the young Etonian was not consulted under the new light—which his brother’s death threw upon the question, nor is there a doubt as to what his advice would have been. But he saw the whole bearings of the case perfectly well without anybody to point them out, and chiefly with the result of conceiving a fixed hatred for his kinsman Jack, whom at that time he had never seen. Notwithstanding all precautions taken, Cyril lived in constant dread of the whole fraud being discovered, and be told himself that the only way to palliate the blow, if it should fall, was to feather his nest while the sun shone. Having now given this somewhat curious key to the young man’s character, it is time to return to him and his doings on the morning in question. From his apparent inability to settle down to anything it is evident he expects somebody. Nor is he kept long waiting. After a rather languid knock at the street door, Mr. Harding is announced, and the friends give a cordial hand-shake.

CHAPTER XVII. “Well,” asked Acton, “have you decided?” “Well, really the thing is so sudden, I hardly know what to say. Why should you be in such a hurry?” “A lover’s impatience.” “In the old days, I own, I used sometimes to think—but dear me, it is hardly three weeks since she told me with her own lips ” “I know, about Brudenell. He, at any rate, is out of the question. The announcement of his engagement to Lady Susan Graye is hourly expected. I met them at the Duke’s last night, and he was most assiduous.” “Then you think poor Lilia ” “Hasn’t a chance. Not that she’ll care for the butterfly even a week. Not she. She’s too much sense, too much pride. Now, I truly love her. When she was a child I loved her as a brother, though even then I indulged at times in future dreams. But it was enough to see her once more—grown into the prettiest and most attractive girl in all England—to conceive for her a love that is as loyal as it is passionate.” “And did you tell her so?” “How could I? Scarcely had the first warm words of greeting been spoken by each of us, after years of separation, than she began to confide to me as many a real sister would have done, all about Brudenell.” “So you held your hand and waited to be played to?” “Just so; but my love grew deeper every hour. Now, listen to be. Fortunately, ‘Camilla wrote to me the other day—oh. a mere nothing, a commission from Lady Prendergast about some glass, but it gives me the privilege of writing to her in return, which her grandmother might otherwise have demurred at.” “Well?” “Well, trust me, the correspondence once begun, to conduct it to my own perfectly honorable ends. All I ask of you is this—and—well, there is nothing, nothing, mind, you shall net ask me in return—may I tell her—not yet, you know, but when the right time comes—may I tell her that I have your authority and support, that you accept me for a son-in-law ?” “My dear boy, you know how fond I have always been of you. As far as I am concerned, I had naturally much rather have you for Lilia’s husband than,a fellow like —that other fellow whom I never saw.” “I am delighted.” It may be remembered that on the occasion of Acton’s last call upon Lady Prendergast, that lady, while giving him credit for the best intentions, yet firmly informed him that he and her niece must meet no more. The cause of this was that he had then come as the avowed companion of Mr. Harding, for it had been settled among the three that this last effort should be tried upon the bitter old lady before resorting to the desperate measure which followed its failure. When the dowager discovered upon what close terms Acton and Cave Harding must necessarily be, she would have abandoned the whole policy of years had she not strenuously forbidden any further personal intercourse between the former and her pet dove. It was to soften the asperity with which she treated him on that occasion that she afterward deputed Camilla to write about the stained glass. Since that memorable Saturday afternoon Camilla and he had never met; and until the letter she wrote to him inclosing that long one which she charged him to forward to Horace, no correspondence had passed between them. When Acton received that double mission one morning at his early breakfast and ran his eye eagerly over the few lines addressed to himself, his first feeling was one of satisfaction that he was alone alone to do exactly as he might choose. The hissing urn was before him. The envelope to Horace was simply stuck down with no precautionary seal. In the coolest way in the world, without even a •light inward struggle, Acton intended

BY JEAN MIDDLEMAS.

his hand and held the sacred trust in the steam. As he read, at each fresh evidence of the depth of her love he came to, he felt a twinge—a sort of pang, not of remorse, far from it, but of a sort of cruel rage mixed with sarcasm; he almost grinned as he perused, a sardonic exultation mingling with his jealousy. “Yes,” he inwardly muttered, “but I shall not be jealous long. The game is mine. What though she will never love me like this is she the less lovely on that account? Even should she hate me when I at last throw off the mask, why, what care I?” He read the letter twice through from end to end, and then quietly tore it up into the most carefully sflail bits. “Now, what shall I tell her,” he mused, “that I posted it? No. The post so seldom fails. I’ll write that I left it myself at his club, not knowing his private address.” He did know it, for he had returned Horace’s card, but she was not likely to hear of that. “It is quite useless,” he went on, “my making any decisive move at present beyond getting the old man’s consent. I shall write her charming letters, of course, but I must wait for that fellow Brudenell’s grand march to be blazed about before it will be any good to go down to the neighborhood. De Basle told me to come down and stay a fortnight or longer any time I chose. Yes, I think the game is altogether very decidedly in my favor, but pshaw! the clever are always lucky.”

CHAPTER XVIII. Horace Brudenell was having his first London season in the fullest sense of the word. Was he enjoying it? Was he happy? That is another thing. His engagement to Lady Susan was over nnd done. What his uncle had begun his own reckless desperation had concluded. Camilla was false; what mattered his happiness now? Rather like a surgical operation, perhaps; and had there been a looked-on when he proposed, somewhat wanting in true ring, at least on the part of one of the actors; but, under the circumstances, really the little scene had been very creditably got through. One evening he promised to join the ladies at the opera, but when the time came the last act was well on ere he entered their box. Both mother and daughter were highly indignant at this seeming negligence. He announced to them that hia friend Forbes was very ill; in fact, in a raging fever, already quite delirious, and with two eminent doctors attending him. Horace had spent the whole evening at his bedside. “Dear, dear,” said Lady Caulfield, glancing at her daughter’s fine form apologetically, “it seems so selfish to ask, but it is nothing contagious?” “I should say not,” replied Horace, “at any rate not to the extent of my endangering you.” “Oh, but do take care on your own account, Horace,” said Lady Susan, asserting for the first time her new position of a promised bride by using his first name alone.

“And where is he?” pursued the mamma. “I made him come home to dinner with me. We were alone. He ate next to nothing, and just as I was proposing to join you, he grew suddenly worse, complained of violent pain in the head, and began to shiver. He sent for his doctor, Sir Ewing Crofton, and I for mine. Meanwhile, having plenty of room, I insisted on his staying in Chapel street, as I thought he would be more comfortable, and besides, he seemed too bad to be moved needlessly.” “At your house?” said his fiancee. “Oh, how very imprudent. I admire you for it, of course, but had you not better yourself go elsewhere till we know what is the matter?” “No;” said Horace, simply but firmly. “I haven’t many friends, and I intend to stand by Jack and see him through. At the same time if you are at all afraid I will do myself the cruelty of keeping away from your most valued society. I should be miserable to cause you any unnecessary alarm. Even now, if you fancy there is danger ” And he half rose from his seat. However, of course, the ladies would not allow him to go. When Horace got home an hour later, the doctors had sent in an experienced nurse—a woman of mature years, and left word they would return at nine next morning, that no sort of improvement could be looked for for some days. CHAPTER XIX. A little more than a week later, Cyril Acton received a letter from the unhappy girl at Silvermead. Her father chanced to be with him when it arrived, but the young tactician slipped the missive into his pocket, that he might deliberate before saying anything about it to his dear Cave. The latter is radiant to-day, and wears a carnation in his buttonhole. “Well, well, dear boy, I must be off to Newmarket Think I can show my nose at last. Squared most of the Implacable ones, thanks to you, and my recent little winnings.” Acton was bored and longed to read his letters. He pulled out his watch under the pretense of comparing its time with that of the clock on the mantelpiece, but really to hurry Mr. Harding away. The latter, who had plenty of tact, thereupon withdrew, and Acton, taking the nearest chair, broke open the letter with the Silvermead postmark, and read as follows: “My Dear Friend—Whatever my trials, and however disinclined I may be to put pen to paper in any way,'l feel that I have no right to defer thanking you for all your trouble. Mr. Brudenell has never answered my letter. “A hundred loves to dearest papa. I am so glad his affairs are in a better state. Say I would write under cover to you, but for a promise I have made. “Your grateful friend, “CAMILLA HARDING.” “Confound it,” muttered Acton, as he crushed the sheet and pitched it into his open desk, “she loves the fellow still! Time, time alone can change her. My precious cousin is worse, I hear. Let me see, how many days has he been ill? I think—yes, five to-day. They don’t seem to know what kind of fever it is. Yes, it’s a week to-dey since he dined here. Well, appearances must be respected in this respectable world, so I’ll inquire how my dear Jack is. I must compose a countenance and go round to Chapel street”

BrudeoelTa servant open* the door. “How is Mr. Forbear “Same, sir,” said the boy, gravely. “Would you like to step in, sir? Master is at home, sir, he’s in the drawing room.” “Yes, I will come in for a moment” He found Brudenell just returned from a morning ride with his betrothed. “Ah, Acton, I’m so sorry never to have been in. You want to see your cousin?” “Well, just as yon think best. If it would be any use, or any comfort to him.” “No, poor fellow, when conscious, he is quite torpid. I believe now he is asleep. The doctors say the fewer the visitors the better, so if you don't insist—” “By no means. Poor Jock, although he is my second cousin, and may possibly one day be my heir, I have only known him six or seven weeks. Allow me, os one of his few relatives, to thank you for all you are doing. There are not many men who Vould put up with all the nnnoyances of sheltering a sick guest, even in the case of a relation.” “Oh, don’t name it. You are too goes!. Jack and I were not, only fast chums at school, but we have been like brothers ever since. “Well, let us talk of more cheerful subjects. I hear I. may congratulate you on your betrothal. Is that so?” “Quite true, lam happy to say.” Acton extended his hand, which the other took rather awkwardly. “You will have the handsomest wits in England,” said Cyril, with a shake and much show of heartiness. “I wish you joy.” “Thank you. Forgive me for asking," said Horace, with a peculiar smile, “but —well, if I am indiscreet stop me at once —may I not nlso congratulate you? Are not you, too, engaged to be married?” “To whom, in the name of wonder?" asked Acton. “Nay, I must not say. Will you believe me when I tell you it is impossible, under the circumstances, that I can name her? Evidently my suspicions were wrong.” Meanwhile, the host had been folding up and directing two or three previously written notes. Merely for something to say, he asked Acton, as he set the superscription to the last: “Do you know old Sir Ewing Crofton?” “Eh?” replied the other, not without a slight start; for it must be known that Sir Ewing had been his mother’s physician. “He is attending poor Forbes.” “Oh, yes, he is our family physician,” but the moment the words were uttered he regretted them. "Indeed!” said Horace. “Ah, that accounts for it. I have heard Jack say Sir Ewing had always attended his people, and they very probably originally consulted him at Lord Hammersley’s recommendation.” (To be continued.)

COUNTRY JOURNALISM.

Experiences that Enliven the Work of Publishing a Rural Newspaper. The lines of editors are often cast In hard places. In the ’7os I was editor and publisher of a newspaper in Central Ilinois. I had secured quite a corps of country correspondents, and among the number was a young lady of bright attainments and very populof In her own village. Very often personal squibs are meaningless to anyone outside of the neighborhood covered by the “country correspondence” column. An Item of this character came in one day from the young lady In question. Of course, it went into the paper, as it was supposed to be something smart, and harmless as well. The day following the issue of the paper, while seated in my sanctum, I was surprised on looking up on the entry of a visitor to find that I was looking down the barrel of an enormous revolver in uncomfortably close proximity to my nose. Behind the gun stood one of the most excited individuals It has ever been my luck to encounter. This bloodthirsty personage was In turn supported by a lusty person who stood guard at the door.

“Who wrote that article?” said the man behind the gun, pointing to the paragraph in question. “We” explained promptly and vigorously that our fair correspondent !n his village was the author. Why he did not shoot then and there has always been a mystery to me. He denounced me as a prevaricator of the most villianous type and insisted that editors wrote everything that appeared in newspapers. A written retraction and apology was the only thing that would appease the gentleman, and as the circumstances did not admit of argument the apology was furnished with all the alacrity possible. Within twen-ty-four hours the man returned to humbly beg the editorial pardon. He added that if I would lick him out of town and abuse him to the best of my ability in the next Issue of the paper he would thank me. He had learned the facts in the case and that the young lady, his particular friend, had Intended the squib as a compliment to him and to his family. He was arrested and fined some S4OO or SSOO for his rash act, and to this day I have regretted the course I pursued In the matter, for he was a prominent citizen, a good man, and ever afterward my special friend. But the dignity of the profession had to be sustained.—Kansas City Journal;

A Lost Letter Story.

A merchant complained of the loss of a letter issued from his office, containing some hundreds of pounds in Bank of England notes. Finally an expert from the postoffice department called upon him. “Believe me, sir,” the expert said, "I have an object in what I ask. Will you kindly sit at your desk and recall each operation In connection with the missing letter?” “With pleasure. I sit here. I take a sheet of this note paper and one of these envelopes. Then I write my letter and fold It up so. Next Igo to my safe and take out the notes, enter their numbers, fold them, put them in the letter, and the letter into the envelope. Then I seal them all up as you now see . me do.” “Just so; and what next? Please be quite explicit.” “Why, my clerk comes in and clears off my desk for the post.” “But you wrote this one at noon, and the post does not go out before night.” “Oh, yes, of course! I quite forgot to say that a money letter, for greater security, I put in a left-hand drawer.” “Which one?” “Which? Why, this one. I open It so, and I—bless my soul! Goodness me! I am very sorry for the trouble I’ve given. Here is the letter!”

They Keep It Up.

In the middle ages every woman painted and powdered. We are inclined to the belief that history is repeating itself.—Salem Post

THE YOUNG FOLKS.

KPTMK or THS PKKSIDKNTV First stands General George Washington, “Father benign.” Selected the leader in seventeen eightynine— To John Adams' name “president!’ they affix By his election in seventeen ninety-six. And Thomas Jefferson by feelings kindred, Promoted from vice-president in eighteen hundred. As fourth, James Madison, the secretary of state, Carried to the front in eighteen hundred and eight. In compliment for service to his country, keen, Monroe, so honor’d in eighteen hundred sixteen. “Like father like son,” as was done seven terms before, John Quincy Adams the choice of eighteen' twenty-four. The seventh was Andrew Jackson, of Tennessee state, Made president in fall of eighteen twentyeight. Martin Van Buren, eighth on the line we fix By the people’s voice i'* N eighteen thirtysix. William Henry Harrison number nine has won By the electoral of eighteen forty-one. John Tyler by the death of Harrison did beeome As president number ten, in eighteen fortyone. James K. Polk (Jackson’s admirer who has beeu before) Electe i to the office in eighteen forty-four. For Mexican victories the people elevate Geu’ral Zachary Taylor in eighteen fortyeight. At death of Taylor, in 1850, the nation Promotes Millard Fillmore to the exalted station. Then comes Franklin Pierce, the fifteenth, into view In the fall ’lection eighteen fifty-two. The year eighteen fifty-six brings James Buchanan. The Demo’ candidate, a Pennsylvanian. “Abram” Lincoln to the nation’s help did come For eight years, beginning eighteen sixtyone, And by an assassin’s crimes remaiued but four, When Johnson succeeds in eighteen sixtyfour. Next, General Grant assumes the honor great, Called from the army in eighteen sixtyeight. \ The centennial year, that second seventysix, Selects R. Birchard Hayes in eighteen seventy-six. Garfield, in eighteen eighty, gains ascendancy, “From the tow-path to the presidency.” Again the assassin fells her country’s son, And Arthur advanced in eighteen eightyone. The twenty-fifth administration bore Cleveland to the front in 1884. After four years interim the Republican ■ candidate, Benjamin Harrison, elected in eightyeight Then Cleveland come 3 again in view, For a second term in eighteen ninety-two.

THE STRANGE STORY OP # A RING. It is stated upon what appears to be good authority that in one of the parks in the Spanish capital city of Madrid a magnificent ring liaugs by a silken cord about the neck of the statue of the Maid of Almodma, the patron saint of Madrid. This ring, though set with diurnonds and pearls, is nevertheless entirely unguarded. The police pay no attention to it, nor is tiwre any provision made for watching it by special officers, because it is not believed that any thief, however daring, would venture to appropriate it to his own use; and when the history of the ring is considered, it is hardly to be wonderod at tiiat a superstitious people prefer to give it a wide berth. According to the story that is told of it, the ring was made for King Alfonso XII., the father of the present boy King of Spain. Alfonso presented it to his cousin Mercedes on jhe day of their betrothal. How short her married life was ali know; and on her death the King presented the ring to bis grandmother, Queen Christina. Shortly afterwards Queen Christina died, and the King gave the ring to his sister, the Infanta del Pilar, who died within the month following. The ring was then given to the youngest daughter of the Due de Montpensier. In less than three months she died, and Alfonso, by this time fearing that there was some unlucky omen connected w ; th the bauble, put it away in his own treasure-box. In less than a year the King himself died, and it was deemed best; to put the ring away from all the living. Hence it was hung about i lie neck of the bronze effigy of the Maid of Almodma, where it appears to be as safe as thougli surrounded by a cordon of police.

ADVENTURE WITH A MOUNTAIN UION. A party of hun ers were sitting around a campfire telling stories of adventures. And it came my time at last to tell one. “Well, boys, I will try to amuse you. The story which I am going to relate happened five j ears ago. 1 wa3 then working on a sheep ranch attending a flock of sheep. One night I was awakened by aloud commotion in the sheep kennel. I hurriedly put on my clothing. Going out into the yard I was just in time to see a shaggy form carrying off one of the sheep. I started in pursuit. Itjinade so: the mountain at a rapid gait, but I managed to keep on the trail of the beast by the continuous bleating of the sheep. I followed it up the mountainside about a quarter of a mile Suddenly the bleating of the sheep stopped, but I went on till I came to a dark hole in the side of the mountain. I heard a faint moaning issuing from the hole. I knew at once that the animal had gone in there, and taking my knife out of my sheath I crawled in, no thought of danger coming over me. “As I looked around me, I saw two gleaming eyes looking at me from the darkness. 1 heard a low growl aud for the first time a feeling of fear crept over me. I grasped my knife firmly in my right hand and lay perfectly still. “I saw the animal coming toward me. What happened in the next five minu es was more like a dream. I was conscious of striking a few blows with my knife and then all was a blank. When I regained my consciousness I was lying in a bed at the ranch owner’s house. I learned afterwards that becoming alarmed at my absence, they seut some meu to find me. They found me with my ciotliing torn to shreds and my body covered witli blood. By my side they found a mountain lion dead, with my knife sticking in his side. 1 had the beast skinned as a memento of my narrow escape.” SAGACIOUS RI.ACXBIRDS. General Lew Wallace yesterday related an incident which shows to a remarkable extent the wonderful sagacity and memory of blackbirds. “At my home over in Crawfordsville,” ■aid the General, “we have a large number

of tell trees on thelewn, sod In Ike count of tine these trees became the roostingplace at certain times of the year for hundreds of thousands of blackbirds. They came in great black clouds, and in spite of all I could do, they refused to leave. Of course they were a great nuisance, and I was in despair as to some means of getting clear of them. I stood for days with my gun firing into them, of an evening, and killing hundreds of them, but the rest did not seem to be sufficiently struck by fear or grief to want to part company with ms and my hospitality. I then devised a new scheme. * 'Procuring a number of Roman candles one evening, 1 lighted them one by one after dark, when the bows of the trees were bent low with the weight of the croaking birds, and I poured the balls into the tops of the trees at a great rate. The sudden innovation startled the birds as nothing had ever done before, and they became panic-stricken. That night I was free of them. “The habit of returning there to roost was stronger than fear, and they began coming in by thousands as '.he next evening approached. After dark I began with another volley of candles, and the birds began to realize that there was a determined bombardment In progress. They fled precipitately, and the third evening only a few returned. A few last shots put them to flight, and I was troubled no more. “But what do you think those birds did? My dividing-fence runs between the trees on my property and the trees on the property of my neighbor, which are equally high and equally suitable for a home of the blackbirds. When the birds were driven from my lot they flew over across the dividing fence to the trees of my neighbor and settled. There was no bombardment over there, and they have stayed there ever since “This was a long time ago, but never since the last Roman candle was fired Into them has oue of these birds settled on one of my trees. They are ‘tabooed’ as effectually as though they were on fire. The great clouds of birds each morning and evening fly directly over my trees going and coming, but not a bird settles upon a tree that is on my side of the dividingfence. “Another strange thing is that if any one of an evening stands on my lawn and makes a slight noise, as slapping his hands, there will be the wildest commotion, among the birds in the neighboring trees. They become restless and almost panic-stricken. If, however, the same person crosses the fence and stands directly under them, and makes twice as much noise, they pay no attention whatever to him. He can even shoot up into them without driving them from their perches.”

The Eskimo.

Supposably the Eskimos came originally from Asia, though Mr. Dali believes that the stock is American, separated tens of thousands of years ago from the aboriginal Indian. There is, however, we think, a preponderance of arguments, which tend to show that the Innuit is of Aslan origin, for the Behring Strait is narrow', and to-day the natives cross the shallow sea. At no very remote period there might have been a dry-lund connection between the two continents. Physically there is a strong resemblnuce between the Eskimos and the Chinese, so much so that a surgeon who had lived many years In China mistook an Eskimo in a Chinese hospital for a Chinaman. l)r. F. A. Cook, of the Peary expedition, Ims given us the measurements of the Eskimos. The average male is five feet one inch, and the female four feet eight inches, and the first weighs 135 pounds and the other 118. Something which Is curious, in addition to the Mongolian type, is that “the muscular outlines of the body are nearly obliterated, from the fact that they have Immediately beneath the skin a luyer of blubber, or areolar tissue* which protects them from extreme cold.

The Yukon Miners.

The United States does not recognise, protect, or control these mining communities in any way. No geological explorations or surveys have been undertaken, and there are no official reports upon the location, formation, development, or yield of this rich placer region. There are no miltary roads and not a territorial or Federal officer in Yukon, Alaska, save one customs officer and postmaster. There is no law, save ns the miners maintain their own unwritten cotie. Church missionary societies have provided for the few peaceful Indian tribes, but even spiritual comfort is withheld from the miners. “Heaven Is high, and the Czar Is far off,” despalring Hussian colonists used to say long ago. Since the military occupation of Alnska ceased in 1877, frequent appeals have been made for the establishment of a garrison at Chilkat, and the construction of a military road over the pass traversed by Yukon miners for the last sixteen years. General Miles once considered the matter to the extent of detailing an officer to make a reconnaissance.

Eskimo Wolf Trapping.

Field and Stream tells of a curious way by which Eskimos catch wolves. They plant a stake in the ice, with a sharp piece of flint on the end, which is wrapped witli seal or other blubber. Along come the wolves and go to licking the frozen blubber. After a while they get down to the flint and cut tlielr tongues on it. Being ravenously hungry, when they taste the warm blood they fall to and chew the life out of one another. The familiar trick of putting a bent piece of sharpened whalebone into a ball of blubber, which is released by the heat of the animal's stomach and results in the death of the animal, is much less effective than the flint stake because nearly whole packs of wolves are killed by the latter device.

A Rattled Sawbones.

After the battle of Gettysburg, a corps under the comn-atul of a young physician, whose knowledge of medicine was very lim'ced, was ordered to collect the woupded. Among the disabled was a vary young man, who had been shot through the leg. The disciple of Escuiapius proceeded to get his knife to work, and after cutting for a half hour was interrupted by the young soldier with “Say, how much longer are you going to cut?” "Until I get the bullet," replied the doctor. “Why, you gosh-blamed fool, if that’s what yon want, I’ve got it in my pocket.” Sure enough, the bullet had lodged in the skin of the man's leg after passing through, and be had kept it as a souvenir.

SOLITUDE OF SILENCE.

A Peculiar Charm Possessed by South African Scenery. The other peculiar charm which South African scenery possesses is that of primeval solitude and silence. It la a charm which is differently felt by different minds. There are many who And the presence of what Homer calls “the rich works of men” essential to the perfection of a landscape. Cultivated fields, gardens gnd on 1 hards, farm house* dotted here and there, indications in one form or anotheY of human life and labor, do not merely give a greater variety to every prospect, but also imparts an element which evokes the sense of sympathy with our fellowmen, and excites a whole group of emotions which the contemplation of nature, taken by itself, does not arouse. No one is insensible to these things, and some find little delight in any scene from which they are absent. Yet there are other minds to which there is something specially solemn and impressive In the untouched and primitive simplicity of a country which stands now Just as it came from the Creator. The self-sufliclentness of nature, the insignificance of man, the mystery of a universe which does not exist, as our ancestors fondly thought, for the sake of man, but for other purposes bidden from us and forever umllscoverable—these things are more fully realized and more deeply felt when one traverses an Immense wilderness which seems to have known no change since the remote ages, when hill and plain and valley were molded Into the forms we see today.

Feelings of tills kind powerfully affect the mind of the traveler In South Africa. They affect him in the Karroo, where the slender line of rails, along which Ids train creeps all day and all night across long stretches of brown desert and under the crests of stern, dnrk hills, seems to heighten by contrast the sense of solitude—a vast and barren solitude Interposed between the busy haunts of men which he has left behind on the short's of the ocean and those still busier haunts whither lie Is bout, where the pick and hammer sound upon the Wltwntersrnnd, and the palpitating engine drags masses of ore from the depths of the crowded mine. They affect him still more In the breezy highlands of Matubelelnnd, where the eye ranges over an apparently endless succession of undulations riot bed with tall grass or waving wood, till they sink In the blue distance toward the plain through which the great Zambesi takes Its seaward course.

Greenhouse on Rails.

The latest novelty In greenhouses Is a perambulating forcing glass house, which may be moved about ut will. The new greenhouse Is the exact counterpart of the old-fashioned, or rather pres, sent, form of structure, with the difference thut It rests on wheels, which In turn run along a regular track. This unique hothouse Is not limited ns to site. It Is regularly equipped with heating apparatus, Including un engine and boiler for developing steam. This Is In turn conveyed through a system of pipes* The striking feature Is thut tills entire outfit Is complete In Itself, and may be moved about bodily. This novel construction for a greenhouse lias a number of advantages. It makes It possible for a series of different crops to be covered at the successive periods. It often happens, for example, that several kinds of crops could be grown together were It possible to protect one kind of vegetation at one time of the year nnd another at a different period. This Ims long been a serious problem umoug florists and horticulturists In general. The movable forcing house Is a very simple solution of this difficulty. It may bo used to force one crop, and when this work has been accomplished It may be used to ripen some other crop. This unique glass house may be built on any scale. The Hides rest upon two tracks, which resemble ordinary railroad tracks, except that they are very much further apart. These may be extended for any distance. Tfie crops of plants which are to be protected by the glass house are planted In the ground between these rails. ,

Why Doctors Give Poisons.

There is a small, kilted boy In Harlem who has some advanced ideas that may prove sugggestive to the medical fraternity. He stood in his mamma's sick room one day, looking at the doctor's open medicine erase, with Its fascinating rows of little bottles filled with white pellets, Interspersed with others In more artistic tints of yellow, pink, gray or green. “Don’t give mamma any of zat kind, please,” said Benny finally, pointing to a bottle filled with green tablets. “Why not, my son,” said the doctor. “Because,” promptly replied the child, “they’d poison her.” “And so you think I poison people, do you?” said the now amused physician. “Oh, yes,” said this Infant philosopher, with great cheerfulness; “when people are very sick and can’t get well you give ’em poison an' zey die nice and easy and go straight to Heaven,” and Benny clasped his hands, with an angelic look of rapture expressive of the state of bliss of patients thus summarily disposed of. The doctor retired thoughtfully.

The Highest Price Watch.

“While In Geneva.some mouths ago,” said Colonel .1. It. Reynolds, “I visited the principal watch works there, and ns a mutter of curiosity asked tin* manager what was the highest price watch that was made in Geneva. Ho said that the* most expensive watch turned out in Switzerland was worth ¥7OO. This watch had a split second hand and struck the hours if needed. It also had in it a tiny musical box, Which played throe distiuet tunes. This watch, he said, was the finest that could Ik* made, but that ornaments, diamonds, etc., could be worked into the oases, which would run the price up into os many thousands as the purchaser desired. He said there had been one watch made in ids establishment the cases of which had been studded with diamonds, and which cost $17,000. 'but. as far as the watch itself was concerned it was a S7OO watch. Missouri man has invented a rob* ber-uroof car.

STOLE AN ELEPHANT.

Queer Notions Which Sometimes Beset Thieves. Now and then K happens, says the “Amusing Journal,” that a genius In crime who considers the ordinary robbery unworthy of his abilities, and therefore he goes in for removing articals of an extraordinary nature. For example, take the man who stole coffee stall, replete with urns, cups and saucers, plates, knives And forks, and spoons, and a good supply of comestibles, ranging from shop eggs to lumps of cukes, cut with mathematical precision. The stall stood before Its owner’s borne, and behind some old railings of Iron and wood. The full audacity of the robbery will be realized on learning that the thief did not take down the railings or even wait for a suitable time. He Just selected a moment when the proprietor was out of the way, and then took out the stall at 6 o’clock in the evening, just as its owner was in ttie habit of doing when about to set up l«ls travelling coffee shop near a large gas factory a mile or two off. The perpetrator of this extraordinary robbery was detected through the agency of a friend of the rati proprietor who partook of refreshments at the stall.

Quite recently there have been two or three cases recorded In the papers of cab stealing; this we can quite understand, for a horse and cab Is a nice little property, wherewith one eft® earn a decent living. But what slut 11 be said of a mun who stole an elephant? This mine elephant escaped from a circus procession that was wending Its way through the streets of a suburb of Liverpool. The great animal wandered for many wiles nnd eventually stopped at a farm, the proprietor whereof promptly annexed the valuable brute, and was foolish enough to sell It to the next circus proprietor that chanced to lie In the vicinity. The farmer’s raison for getIng rid of the elephant was the prodigious quantity of food the animal eousuined. We need liardly say that the Whole silly proceedings ended In the conviction of the farmer, though he got off with three month’s Imprisonment There are at least two eases on record of a man stealing a house. One of them' was a portable corrugated Iron structure, which mu on wheels and belonged jto a great contractor, whoso manager used It as a pay ls>x, while the other was an ordinary semi-detached suburban residence. How could such a house be stolen? Well, the alleged thief simply took isissesslon of It, put himself In a state of siege, and then set the real owner at defiance. After a long and most exasperating course of law proceedings the rail owner recovcrcd Ills house uud the claimant was dislodged. Horses and vans have l>een stolen, of course; so have whole houses of furniture, If we may use the term. The latter unique robbery Is worked In this way: A householder going abroad will porlinps warehouse hls furniture at some well-known repository, und the thieves will contrive to Impersonate him, and In many cases got possession of the whole of his household goods.

FIRST MILITARY EXECUTION.

Fate of a Fedaral Soldier Who Murdered * Companion. Our regiment, the First Kansas, was of the little band under Major Sturgis that formed a Junction with General Lyon, July 7,1801, writes J. M. Bindley in Home and Country. The general had coma to our camp accompanied by some niemltcrs of his staff. Among the latter was John M. Schofield, lately retired as General U. 8. A., who I think was then a captain of the First Missouri. We liad lieen making forced murches, wading streams and marshes, and had endured numerous other hardships, and bad not received a dollar or any clothing; indeed, many of ns did not have anything extra to start with. This had if tendency to muke the boys fretful and cross, and perhaps caused the tragedy subsequently enacted. While General Lyon was making a speech to the hoys, exhorting them to stand up under their hardships for a short time longer, when they would receive some substantial token of appreciation from the government, two of the boys In our n*glnu*nt had an altercation and started out of camp to settle it. My remembrance is that their names were Coal urnl Stiles. Certain I nm that Coal was the aggressor. He was walking in front As he turned and faced his man, his right hand at the same time swung around armed with a knife which he plunged into the back of his opponent below the shoulder-blade, and his man fell forward dead. Coal endeavored to escape; but In a moment there were many after the murderer, and soon be was nm down and brought In. We continued on our marches, the prisoner being kept under strict guard until December 12, five days later (he had meanwhile been tried and convicted by a court-martial, wtolch had sentenced him “to be shot to death with musketry”), when the whole of our little army, excepting General SUgel’s command, being on dress parade, were formed in a hollow square—our regiment on the north side of it and, I think, the Second Kansas in our rear. The guard-house was on the northeast corner of the square. The firing party, fifteen of them, marched out—<tlie culprit lu the front rank. As they marched up our line I had an opportunity to look full in the face of the murderer. His head was thrown slightly bock, and turned to one side—his lips, moving, I imagined, in prayer. When they reached the centre of the square, the commands, “halt, left-face, forward, march!” were given—Coal obeying orders, and stepping as promptly as did his guard. At forty or fifty paces the commands “halt, right about face!” were given. Coal was directed to kneel down, and was then blindfolded, while the guard were ordered “forward, march, halt, right-about-face, ready, aim, fire!” Almost on the iustan/t Coal leaped straight up, and then fell a lifeless corpse, lie had paid with his own life the penalty of his rash act. And thus It. was that the First Kansas had the first court-martial which passed a capital sentence, and also the first military execution in the history of the war. The Marquis of Salisbury prefers to stand at a high desk while working.