Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 November 1896 — Page 5

•' l w *s*r I tfESfiP C >» •y'"/7>; F ‘‘l knew him perfectly,” said the I gc| r “and I have heard that before he —with very enfeebled faculties and all —«<.«<■ _s complete loss of memory, a rascally <

CHAPTER XXXII. *We are striking work here, sir. We are going south; but that matters little. As for Rufus Crouch, we have not had •him among us these four days past. And that, doctor, is all I ha’i* to tell.” Obadiah Jedson, as ba said these words, leaning on the long, sharp-pointed shovel which jet-hunters use, looked sternly and grandly picturesque, his gray locks streaming over his shoulders, and his tall, gaunt height towering aloft. "This person Crouch,” Dr. Leader was In the act of saying, when suddenly a procession of seafaring men came winding its way along the beach skirting the cliff wall, and in the midst of the marching column was visible a rude litter upon which lay a shapeless, motionless something covered up decorously with another fragment of tarpaulin. “An accident, do you say? Let me see it,” said Dr. Leader dropping the magistrate, and resuming his old functions ns a medical man. The tarpaulin, when removed, gave to view the marble-white face and pinched features of a dead man. There was no mistaking the shaggy red beard, the broad, strongly-built figure of Rufus Crouch. “Yes, he must have been dead for days; the tide had reached the place where he lay, for here is the green slime of the sea-weed mingling with his hair and staining his clothes,” said Dr. Leader. “He was on his way back from Daneborough toward Beckdale, when the path gave way, and he fell. No human being could have survived that fall.” Dr. Leader promptly decided that it would be better to remove what had lately been Rufus Crouch to his own miserable home, the rather that he, in his magisterial capacity, felt it his duty to institute a search for the documents which the ex-gold digger had pledged himself to produce at Lawyer Sturt’s office, in confirmation of the heavy charge which he had so vehemently brought against Sir Richard Mortmain. At last the lonely hu,t was in view. There it was in its stony ravine, shut in by the barren hills. There was now no 'furious baying on the part of the fourfooted sentinels that guarded the door. XThe starving dogs could bark no more. Hunger had tamed them, and they lay exhausted. Then, by Dr. Leader’s orders, the door was forced open. They laid the body of Rufus Crouch on the wretched pallet-bed. “And now for our search,” said Dr. leader; and the superintendent and the more intelligent of his helmeted acolytes did their best, but on no shelf, and in no locker, chest, basket, barrel or cupboard could the most vigilant scrutiny discern anything answering to the papers which Rufus had promised so confidently to produce as proofs of the truth of his accusation against the baronet. “I am very much afraid,” said the magistrate. as the tedious work of searching into all manner of receptacles, nooks and corners came to an end, “that the man had some other hiding place away from his hut. At any rate, it seems as though we had had our trouble for nothing.” Obadiah tapped his forehead suddenly, as if a new idea had occurred to him. “I remember,” he said —“yes, I remember how I once came here and found the hearthstone up, and Crouch sorely angered and ill at ease because I found him busy with something beneath it that he did his best to hide. The hint was eagerly adopted. The very workmen who had found Crouch’s body on the razor-edged rocks below the dizzy height of Hordle Cliff were ready at a word to use Crouch’s own crowbar and shovel to force up the heavy hearthstone. “A miser after all!” “A crockful of golden guineas!” “Always thought he must be rich—a close chap like old Robinson Crusoe!” Such were some of the comments of the lovers of mystery outside the dead man’s dwelling. But when, with some difficulty, the weighty stone had been lifted, and the cavity which it concealed was exposed, no gold, to the great disappointment of the spectators, was revealed, but only a number of parchments and papers, •heedfully wrapped in oilskin, to keep them from injury by damp. “Yes, yes,” said the magistrate, after a cursory inspection of his prize, “these are the very papers, as far as I can see, which this poor wretch promised, and, no doubt, Intended to bring with him to Mr. Sturt’s office on the morrow of the day on which he met his death by a fall from that dangerous cliff. And there seem to be other documents, too, not less valuable to further the ends of justice, which Crouch may or may not have meant to use for a good purpose, but which are brought to light now, thanks chiefly to you, Captain Jedson.”

CHAPTER XXXIII. Earl Wyvern, for the second time, was a visitor at Woodburn Parsonage. He had called to bid adieu to his friend of other days, the rector. “I leave Thorsdale to-morrow,” the Earl had said, and at that moment Dr. Deader was announced. Dr. Leader looked around him. All the inmates of the parsonage, including Mr. Marsh, were present. Worthy Mrs. Langton was there; so was Violet Mowbray, looking very sweet, sad and gentle. The Earl, -who had known her mother in days long past, was struck by the likeness which she presented to Mrs. Mowbray. “My visit to-day,” said Dr. Leader, with his grave, kind smile, “is partly to 'this young lady”—and here he bowed to Violet, who looked at him with astonished eyes, while a slight tinge of color rose to her cheeks—“on account of a remarkable discovery, which, in ray capacity of magistrate, I have been fortunate enough to make. I am the bearer of unexpected good news, since here is a deed”—and he produced a thick folded parchment—“by virtue of which General Oliver Yorke, years and years ago, made over to three trustees the sum of seventy thousand pounds consols for the benefit of his grandniece, Violet Mowbray,” Then followed an animated conversation. The Doctor briefly narrated the salient features of the finding of the precious document, while Mr. Marsh on examination vouched for the genuineness of the signature of the old Indian general long dead. “This must have been stolen,” said the dry-salter. The medical magistrate had no doubt of that. Papers arid memoranda had been found proving Rufus Crouch to have been head clerk at a West-coun-try solicitor’s, one Lawyer Bowman, whose name chanced to be familiar to Xord Wyvern.

“I knew him perfectly,” said the Earl, “and I have heard that before he died, -with very enfeebled faculties and almost complete loss of memory, a rascally clerk had robbed him and absconded. It was a singular coincidence, too, that general Yorke should not have survived the signing of this deed by a month.” “At any rate,” rejoined Mr. Marsh, “we may congratulate Miss Mowbray on her good fortune.” Violet could not repress a sob. The money brought no comfort to her; it was the golden bar to keep her and Don apart. “But,” said Dr. Leader, seriously, “my duty as a magistrate is not yet discharged. I have another errand of a more painful nature. I intended, my lord, to have gone up to Thorsdale, but finding your lordship here, I must request the favor of a few minutes’ private conversation.” Conducted by the wondering rector into the comfortable dining-room of the parsonage, Dr. Leader made haste to lay before the Earl the proofs of Sir Richard Mortmain’s guilt. There was a copy of Crouch’s sworn deposition at Lawyer Sturt’s office. There were found beneath the hearthstone in the dead mpn’s miserable hut Sir Richard’s treasured letters, penned at Mortmain, to conciliate the good-will of his offended plebeian accomplice. There were also the rough copies of the forged check for five hundred pounds, the imitation of Lord Wyvern’s signature having in each instance been deemed too faulty to pass muster at the Threddleston and County Bank. Never was more convincing documentary evidence brought together. “I ata sorry for this,” said the Earl, thoughtfully. “I thank you, Dr. Leader, for the delicacy and kind feeling with which you have acted in this distressing affair. If you will allow me, I should like to have a few days to reflect. I will write to you, certainly, but I should prefer a short delay.” The Earl went back to the drawingroom, but there was a cloud on his brow, and he seemed strangely preoccupied; and as soon as courtesy permitted he took his leave. So soon as the carriage which had brought him from Thorsdale Park was clear of the parsonage grounds, the Earl gave the order, “To Helston—to Sir Richard Mortmain’s. I wish to call there on my way back.” Earl Wyvern, conducted into the presence of the baronet, bent his head slightly, but stretched out no hand to take the white and jeweled one which the master of Mortmain held out to him. He declined, too, to be seated. “I am here,” said the Earl, in his sternest tone and with his coldest manner, “to give you a warning, Sir Richard. It may seem strange to you, perhaps, that such a warning should come to the forger from the man whom he has robbed, but ” “My lord, this language must be accounted for!” interrupted the baronet, as a patch of red mounted to his pallid cheek.

The Earl eyed him with haughty scorn. “I shall account for it,” he said, severely, “before a proper tribunal, if necessary. Let me tell you, before you attempt to cloak your guilt by denial or bluster, that your accomplice, the fellow Crouch, has denounced you. Let me tell you, too. that within the space of one short hour I have had before my eyes the proofs—the absolute proofs—that Captain Richard Mortmain, the son of my best and oldest friend, wrote my fictitious signature to the forged check for which, at the Threddleston Bank, Crouch received five hundred pounds.” This was terribly plain speaking. Sir Richard, ghastly in his pallor, clutched at the table near him for support, and seemed as if about to faint. “Mine,” continued Lord Wyvern, “is an errand of mercy, not of vengeance. My request for delay has only put off the evil hour of your arrest and trial. Take my advice, and fly; and in some distant country repent, if you can.” “I thank you from my heart—l will go,” stammered out the baronet, feebly. “I think your master is ill,” said Lord Wyvern to the Mortmain servant who was ready to open the hall ‘door for his exit. And then, re-entering the carriage, he went back to Thorsdale Park. CHAPTER XXXIV. Thrales Maple, which lies on the Yorkshire coast, between Horseshoe Bay and the seaport of Shrapton, is a decent little village enough, and boasts of as tidy a little inn as is consistent with the sparseness of the local population. Customers of the better sort at the Blue Lion meant farmers and farm bailiffs, skippers of fishing-smacks, captains or mates of small vessels, Shrapton townsfolk, and last, not least, the household brigade of the landlord, the servants from Herrick Hall. The category included also old Captain Obadiah Jedson, well known and respected from Lowestoft to Shields, and whose company of jet-hunters were just then encamped in Horeshoe Bay, near the rugged reefs of black and weeddraperied rocks which there jut out, like a natural wall, into the sea. It was the very place described in the earliest of these .pages, the very spot where Don, as a child, had been found by the jet seekers under gaunt Captain Jedson’s command. And in a corner of the neat parlor sat Obadiah himself, his long gray hair flowing over his shoulders and his eyes half shut. “We’ve got a new visitor up at the Hall,” said the coachman, setting down the pewter, from which he had taken a temperate draught—“Lord Wyvern.” “Will he be a Lord of Session, Mr. .Stubbs?” asked the Scotch gardener.” “This is a real lord," rejoined the coachman, almost crossly. “Why, man, it’s Earl Wyvern, one of the richest earls, I’ve heard tell, in broad England. His lordship’s no stranger here, and he’s an old friend of Sir William Herrick’s. He came here first with his young bride — poor thing!—that died early in foreign parts. And the next time he came to stay at the Hall he was a widower, as 1 grave to look at, though not so stern-like as now. Then it was that the great misfortune happened that our Sir William and his lady felt so much for, though, of course, it was worse for his lordship. Haven’t ye heard the story, Mr. Meiklejohn?” Mr. Meiklejohn had heard no story in any way connected with Earl Wyvern, and said so. “His lordship, as I said before,” re- 1 sumed the coachman, “came back again a widower, to visit- our master at the Hall. He wasn’t called Lord Wyvern then —he was not, because, you see, his father, the old earl, did not die for a matter of three years after that, so my lord was called Lord Ludlow. It’s the second title in the family. If his lordship’s sea

had not come to a sad ending he’d be Lord Ludlow this day.” “But how did this sad ending happen, Mr. Stubbs?" demanded the Scottish gardener. “It happened this way, Mr. Meiklejohn,” replied the coachman, returning to the pith of his story. “My lord brought down with him, besides his valet, a nurse for the child, a very respectable, tidy young person. This young person, the maid, used to go. with the perambulator and the little child, who may have been four, or something near that age, here and there, but most to the sands at Horseshoe Bay, and sit down there and read, or look at the sea,' as girls Ike that will do; and one day. when a sudden storm came on, she didn’t come back. When the child and the nurse were missed there was a search, but it was too late. The perambulator was found empty above high-water mark, and so was the open "book the girl had been reading. But that was all, and nothing more was known until four days later, the body of the young woman was found, poor thing. But the child’s poor, beautiful little corpse was never found—washed out to sea, no doubt, and ” Here a sudden crash interrupted the narrator, as Obadiah dropped his long church-warden pipe, and the fragile clay was smashed to pieces on the sanded floor. “What’s that?” exclaimed Mr. Meikeljohn. “Nothing. The old cove in the corner must have nodded off to sleep, I suppose,” answered the coachman, glancing toward the captain of jet hunters, with whose personal appearance he did not happen to be acquainted. But Obadiah sat quite still and appeared to be unaffected either by the story he had just heard, or by the demolition of his pipe. Quietly the captain of the jet hunters rose from his seat in the corner and stalked out of the room, paying his modest reckoning as he passed the bar, and went out into the dusk of ths coming night. (To be continued.)

POTENT LITERARY FACTOR.

Excellence of American Magazines Made Possible by Advertisements. Edward W. Bok editorially discusses advertisements as "A Potent Literary Factor” in* the Ladies’ Home Journal. He maintains that the advertisements of to-day are made so attractive that a magazine would lose much of its charm, beside a great part of its value and interest, were they to be omitted. “The advertisement, too,” Mr. Bok contends, “has become a literary factor. Without the rapid growth of the art of advertising, and the substantia) growth of income which such progress means, our magazines could not possibly be made what they are to-day. The advertisement has made the modern magazine, in point of literary and artistic excellence, possible. It has become a distinct literary factor, and as potent and all-powerful a factor as ever entered into literary considerations. Which of our magazines published in these days, for example, could continue to give its table of contents if all advertisements were withheld from Its pages? Not a single one of them, and I except none. The actual cost of the single number of any of our magazines is beyond average public conception. That cost is possible to their owners only and solely because of the income derived from the advertisements. At the low price for which the majority of Out periodicals are sold to-day no profit whatever ensues from that source. ♦ * It is for this reason that every reader of a periodical should approve of, rather than oppose, the advertisement. And the reader’s support of the magazine’s advertisements means a direct return to him. If the reader patronizes the advertisers of the magazine which he reads he necessarily helps to make the advertisements in that periodical profitable, and naturally the advertiser is willing to continue to announce his wares in that particular magazine. This adds to the income of the periodical, and enables the owners of it to enter into larger and better literary and artistic undertakings. Thus, not alone does the reader benefit the advertiser and the magazine, but he indirectly benefits himself. * *”

Story of an Idiot.

A nice young man in Scranton, says the Philistine, called on a nice young lady and spent the evening. When he arrived, there was not a cloud in the sky, so he carried no umbrella and wore neither goloshes nor mackintosh. At 10 o’clock, when he arose to go, it was raining cats and dogs. “My, my, my!” said the nice young lady, “if you go out in all this storm you will catch your death a’ cold!” “I’m afraid I might!” was the trembling answer. “Well, I’ll tell you what—stay all night; you can have Tom’s room, since he’s at college. Yes, occupy Tom’s roomexcuse me a minute, and I’ll just run up and see if it’s in order.” The young lady flew gracefully upstairs to see that Tom’s room was in order. In five minutes she came down to announce that Tom’s room was in order, but no Charles was In sight. But in a very few moments he appeared, very dripping and out of breath from running, a bundle in a newspaper under his arm. “Why, Charles, where have you been?” was his greeting. “Been home after my night-shirt,” was th< reply.

Joked About the Judge.

The late John S. Holmes being told, upon the death of a certain judge, that it'was proposed to ereet a monument to him, he observed that it ought to be a bass-relief. Another judge was holding court, and the sun shone upon the back of his head. Holmes whispered to the clerk: “A beautiful illustration of Scripture—‘the light shineth upon the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.’ ” The deepening of the Hudson to twelve feet, as far as the State Dam, seven miles above Albany, will probably be completed within the next two years. The improvement projected and being carried out by the Federal Government calls for a channel twelve feet deep and four hundred feet wide to the foot of Broadway, in Troy, and a channel three hundred feet wide, but of the same depth, to the State Dam, at the head of navigation. The contracts for this work, let In 1893, cover the removal of 4,620,000 cubic yards of earth and 190,000 tons of rock, and the building of eight miles of dikes. The estimated cost is $2,500,000. Mail matter is sent from Paris to Berlin In thirty-five minutes by pneumatic tube. When we are grateful for our blesslugs, our trials look small.

BRYAN’S APPEARANCE UPON THE SPEAKERS’ STAND IN THE ST. LOUIS AUDITORIUM.

He was introduced to the magnificent audience by Permanent Chairman 11. D. Money, presiding over the convention of the National Association of Democratic Clubs, then in Session.

THE ISSUE IS CLEAR.

The politicians, eminent and otherwise, who have bolted to McKinley, appear generally to be of the modest opinion that the Democracy must go to pieces for want of their leadership. Because of their narrowness ami egotism they are Incapable of comprehending the present situation. The real cause of their defection is that the Democratic party has become too democratic to suit them. There is a wide difference between the average bolting politician and the citizen who, believing in the gold standard, has resolved to cast his ballot for the Republican candidate. The politician as a rule finds small difficulty in accommodating himself to any platform so long as compliance holds out the prospect of personal reward, but a platform which cuts the Democratic party loose from the plutocracy and Invites the hostility of the predatory rich is one that seems insane and suicidal to the regulation politician. Where are campaign funds to come from if wealth is antagonized? Principle and devotion to the interests of the common people are all very w’ell for oratorical purposes, but a party without a full war chest offends every native and acquired instinct of thb practical politician. The Democratic party of the United States knew what it was about and knew what it would have to face when in national convention it declared for free silver and gold and a stable dollar. It knew that it would have to meet all the tremendous power of the whole privileged class, who have come to believe that they possess license to prey upon the masses. A nation of twentysix millions was taxed to starvation to maintain the two or three thousand aristocrats who glittered around Louis XIV. and Antoinette at Versailles, and those gorgeous gentlemen and ladies were not more profoundly convinced that Providence had created France for their benefit than are our own money grandees that their special interests are paramount to all other conditions. That they should rise in a body against the Democracy when it has the courage to declare war upon their unjust privileges is only natural. It is only natural, too, that all the faithful retainers of the plutocracy should draw the sword and charge upon the Democracy with a fury superior even to that of their masters. It has ever been so with retainers. There are multitudes of dependents on the wealthy who are more capitalistic than the capitalists. Such of these dependents as have called themselves Democrats obey the law of their parasitic being by going over to Hanna, advance agent of the plutocracy, who is wallowing in? money. But as the United States happens to be populated chiefly by men, not coolies, the Democratic party asks with confidence for the support of the plain people whose battle it is fighting. The contest is between those who make things and those who take things. The Issue is too clear to be obscured. On the Republican side are ranged all the men whose hands are habitually in the people's pockets, all the men who seek to use the power of the Government to further enrich themselves, all the shearers of the wool of the labor sheep, all the men who understand and practice the art of getting much for little. These are the kjnd of enemies the Democracy is and ought to be glad to fight. They are the natural foes of the Democratic idea, and their success in this campaign would advance prodigiously the movement for turning the republic into an oligarchy. The plain people are not to be deceived. They know with which party their Interest, the interest of the country, lies in thia great struggle for the supremacy of manhood over money. As for the leaders who have gone, let them go. Generals who deem it wise policy to be friendly with the enemy are not the sort of generals who win victories that tell for Democratic principles and the

welfare of the masses. The party is better off without them. Every man who owns himself and stands by the doctrine that the majority of citizens should rule the republic for tlie common good will vote for Bryan, equal rights for all, privileges for none; that is true Democracy. —San Francisco Examiner. The Three Platforms. The three political platforms under consideration and discussion before the American people present three different lines of policy to be pursued upon the silver question. 1. The Democratic platform declares for resuming the free and unlimited coinage of silver at the relative rate of value fixed at the foundation of our government, with awaiting the concurrence and consent of any other nation on the face of the earth. Consequently, it proposes an addition to the amount of money which is now in circulation In this country and the aggregate of which has been diminishing (thus making gold dearer and more valuable) ever since the repeal of the Sherman coinage law. 2. The Republican platform declares for a resumption of silver coinage, whenever the British and other foreign capitalists shall be willing that We should do so, and not otherwise. It therefore proposes no relief for the insufficiency of money In this country, unless foreign powers consent to take pity on us. 3. The platform of the Bolters and Bankers’ party, organized at Indianapolis, opposes the coinage of silver, whether approved by foreign governments, or not, and thereupon differs from both the others, which contemplate it either with or without such approval; it consequently upholds gold as the only primary money. This would maintain the present stringent conditions of monetary affairs, without change, or any hope of change. As Candidate Bryan says, It only requires ordinary intelligence to understand the questions at issue, and to decide which would be best for the country and for its citizens. It is only a question of good times or hard times, of money plenty or money scarce, every man pinched or every man flush and comfortable. Nothing can be plainer.

Think a Little. What do we elect Presidents, Senators and Congressmen for? To legislate to make business better. That Is the whole purpose of their election. If they fail to do so, they are either false to their oath of office or too stupid to send back. It is not a question of party, but of business. Now the nation has been electing men for a number of years through party fealty, in blind Ignorance of their own affairs. Is It not time to think a little, and vote to improve business, regardless of party? If business Is good with you, we have not another word to say, but if it is bad, we consider that you are thinking this question over, or ought to be, and, In such case, don’t you feel that more money in circulation is what you need to make your business better? You are under a gold standard— America has been under It for twentythree years—and times have grown steadily worse. Then why not vote for gold, silver and Government paper, as proposed by Bryan, in preference to gold alone, as proposed by McKinley? Surely three kinds of money are superior to one. Indeed, that is the only way you can get any, for the gold is all owned in Europe, and the United States can only get it by paying an enormous premium. If you doubt this, try and buy some gold. Now we have given you the financial situation In brief, and every sensible man can understand it And all we ask Is that you Will vote as you think. Conspiracy Against Silver. My friends, the conspiracy which we have to meet Is a conspiracy which has for Its ultimate object the striking

down of silver ns one of the standard moneys of the world. And that can only mean a gradual and continual increase In the purchasing power of the dollar, and that means an Indefinite season during which the holders of fixed investments gather more than they loan, and during which those who owe debts will pay more than they agreed to pay; an Ideflnlte season during which it will be more profltable to hoard money or to loan It than to invest it in enterprise or property.—Mr. Bryan at Syracue, N. Y. The Same Old Fight. The Democratic party would have been untrue to Itself, its history and its greatest leaders if it had surrendered to the interests which demand that It shall abandon Its historical policy of bimetallism to make cornered gold the basis of paper credit money for circulation among the people. Jefferson, its earliest leader, denounced as unconstitutional the Hamiltonian policy of creating banks to Issue money. Jackson, Its most fearless and aggressive statesman, gave vital force to its doctrine and belief by striking down the United States Bank, an institution which had grown so rich and arrogant as to menace the Government. In the Post-Dispatch to-day appears a concise history of Jackson’s war on the United States Bank. It Is of surpassing interest at this time, not only for Its citation of historical facts, but for the parallel It shows between the plutocratic campaign methods of 1832 and 180(1. Then, as now, those In enjoyment of special privileges and extraordinary emoluments were, crying “anarchy” and “Incendiarism” at those proposing to assert the higher Interest of the people. Then, as now, those who wanted to manufacture money out of paper declared that It was the only “sound” money, and denounced propositions to coin money as schemes of inflation. And then, as now, the beneficiaries of the law were unable to realize how the law could be objectionable to the people and deluded themselves to the last with the Idea that Jackson and his party were doomed to defeat. Will the people be as true to themselves now as they were then? Will they avert now, ns they did then, the dangers which Jackson, In his bank veto, pointed out ns threatening the country? Why not? They nre the same people.—St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Purpose. Dasha way—l have an Idea that Mrs. Hightoner has asked me to dinner In order to till up. Cleverton—That's what we are all going for, old man.—Punch.

POLITICAL OBJECT LESSON.

Pitiful Condition of Both Farmer and Laborer in Gold Standard Times.

—New York Journal.

SAVED BY ADOLL.

A Little White Girl’s Plaything Conquers a Savage Tribe. “A gentleman from the ground up—the finest gentleman in the regular army,” was tlx* way an old Omaha reporter referred to Major John G. Bourke, formerly aide to General Crook. And then, wanning up to his work, the old reporter told the following: "They used to tell a story of Mr. Bourke when he was down In Arizona with Crook that shows what kind of a man he is. The general was trying to put a band of Apaches back on the reserve, but couldn't catch them without killing them, and be wouldn’t do that. One day they captured a papoose and took her to the fort. She was quiet all day, saying not a word, but her black beads of eyes watched everything. When night came she broke down and sobbed as a wlrite child would. The fort was in despair until Mr. Bourke had an idea. From the adjutant’s wife he borrowed a doll that was a beautiful creation that had come to the adjutant's little girl the previous Christmas. When the young Apache was made to understand that it was hers to keep her sobs ceased and she fell asleep. When morning came the doll was still clasped In her arms. She played with it all day, just as any child who had been <*dueated to play prettily with its make-believe babies would have done, and seemingly all thought of ever getting back to the tribe, under the spell of enchantment placed over by the doll, had left her. "Not so with the officers of the post, however, for the thought of having to keep the papoose without having the tribe make some inquiries as to Its welfare bothered them to a considerable extent. Several days passed with no sign of overtures being made by the tribe, and, finally, in despair, the pap<M>se, with the doll still in its possession. was sent back to the tribe. Major Bourke, who was then a first lieutenant. when the child was sent back to the tribe, had no idea of the effect his Itenevolent act to the papoose would have upon the crafty band of aborigines. When the child reached the trllte, with its proud prize tightly grasped in Its chubby hands, it created a sensation among the native Americans, and Its mother later went back to the ]>ost with It. Six' was received In a hospitable manner and kindly treated, and the efft'et of her visit was such that through her overtures were made to the tribe, with the result that soon afterward the whole band moved back on the reserve. “Major Bourke, In all probability, when the kind act was done, in order to placate the heart-broken papoose, had no idea of Its ever being of such service to General Crook and his forces. It saved tliem from engaging In a bloody battle, In which tin* lives of the Apaches and Uncle Sam’s forces would have Iteen jeopardized to such nn extent that many would have been killed or maimed for life, and made imsslble, what is seldom accomplished, tire placing of a large body of one of the most barbarous tribes on the American continent back on the reservation without the loss of a single life. The Apaches were of the same tribe as that which Geronimo made do deadly work not so many years ago.”—Portland Orego Dian.

STRANGEST OF WARSHIPS.

The Circular Ironclad Designed by Adml* ral Popoff of the Russian Navy. A warship which Is in certain respects the most original over constructed is the Novgordo, designed by Admiral J’opoff, of the Russian Navy. It is a circular ship, capable of delivering an all-round fire. It seems to fulfil the ideal of many naval architects, In that it is nothing more nor less than a floating fort, capable of motion. AU the cluiracterlstle outlines of a ship are missing from it. The Novgorod marks an advance beyond a point nt which naval constructors have hitherto stopped, and It Is interesting to explain what this itolnt Is. Although modern Ironclads have ceased to look much like ships, they still retain below the water line the essential form of sailing vessels. This form has, In fact, varied little since the beginning of human history. Tn spite of the wonderful achievements of modern science, men have not been able to make any revolution in the shape of a ship's hull. Even the peculiar development of the modern racing yacht’s hull, which ha* hid great results In a narrow way. is not applicable to the vessels of trade. Is tlie peculiar shape of a ship's hull, with the pointed stem and blunt stern, an eternal necessity? Surely no human contrivance is destined to last forever. That is what Admiral Popoff said when Ih> set about the designing of a new type of warship. One of the recognized weaknesses of an ordinary warship's construction is that the guns eau only be used against objects facing the side on which they are mounted. To bring the guns on the other side to bear it Is necessary to turn the ship around, a long and complicated operation, during which it may be destroyed. It Is claimed for the Novgorod ttyat It is able to maintain a fire in alldirections and to revolve within the space occupied by Itself. It is thus relieved from the necessity of making many difficult and dangerous movements, and no enemy within striking distance can escape its aim. Its deck rises a very short distance above the water, and the heavy guns are mounted in two revolving turrets, which together command the whole surrounding space. Owing to its shape its propelling and steering machinery is constructed on very different principles from that of other ironclads. London Streets. The city of London has now about twenty-three miles of carriage ways laid with noiseless materials, of which, roughly speaking, asphalt counts for three-fourths and wcod for one-fourth. In the noiseless footways, which are calculated to amount to about fifteen and a half miles, asphalt has the field entirely to itself. Gilt buttons on buff linen waistcoats are affected by some modern Beau Brummels. Years ago coral buttons on white duck waistcoats were the height of fashion.