Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 October 1886 — Page 4

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THE EVIL GENIUS.

By WILKIE COLLINS, ifeoref "Thecoma* 1* White," "New iCafdalen/^'The Moon*1*®*'""Th®

Law and the XitAy," "Arm*4b1»," Et«.,15tfc. •r»$

ORE THE STOUT. s.'

VIII.—THE DlAMORBH.

The Be *r week was essentially a week ef events. 0a the

Monday

morning Mrs. Wester-

leld and her faithful James had their if it quarrel. She took the liberty of reMinding him that it was time to give natiee of the marriage at the church, and to secure berths in the steamer for her««1f and her son. Instead of answering oneway or another, James asked how the erpart was getting on. "Has your old man found oat where the diamonds are?" "Sot yet" 4tf 3 "Then we'll wait till he does." "Do yon believe my word?" Mrs. li'esterfield asked, curtly. James-Bell-bridge answered, with Roman brevity, "No."

This was an insult Mrs. Westerfield expressed her sense of it. She rose and tinted to the door. "Go back to America 4k soon as you please," she said, "and ifitid the money you want—if you can."

As a proof that she was in earnest she fook her copy of the cipher out of the liosom of her dress, and threw it into the £re. "The original is safe in my old nan's keeping," she added# "Leave the T&ov."

James rose with Buspicious'.docility and walked oat, bavin* his own private ends iit view. W Half an hour ltfer, Mrs. Westerfield •Id man was interrupted over his work by a person of bulky and blackguard %ppearaace whom he had never seen beifore.

The stranger introduced himself as a gentleman who was engaged to marry HCrs. Westerfield he requested (not at ill politely) to be permitted to look at the cipher. He was asked if he had J»e*ght a written order to that effect, ajgned by the lady herself. Mr. Bell bridge resting his fists on the writing itajyle, answered that he had come to look

jat the cipher, on his own responsibility, *nd that he insisted on seeing it immedily. "Allow me to show you something first," was the reply ho received to sf&ertion of his will you know a loaded pistol, sir, when see it?" The barrel of the pistol irithin three inches ot the tubman's big head, as he leaned over the table. For ence in his life he

assertion of his will and pleasure,

trdtt approached within three inches IttfvMon'a ItAOfl Qo KA loanod A

writing Mrs* taken by surprise. It had never oc eprred to him that a professed in-terpre ter of ciphers might sometimes be trusted with secrets which placed him in a pesition of danger, and might therefore have wisely taken measures to protect himself. SNo power of persuasion iB comparable to the power possessed by a loaded pistol. 'Janes left the room, and expressed his sentiments in language which has not jet found its way into any English dictionary.

But he had two merits when his tem )»er was in a state of repose. He knew when he was beaten, and he thoroughly appreciated the value of the diamonds. When Mrs. Westerfield saw him again? on the next day, he appeared with undeniable claims on her mercy. Notice of the marriage had been received at the church and a cabin had been secured for her on board the steamer.

Her prospects being thus settled, to her own satisfaction, Mrs. Westerfield was at liberty to make her arrangements for the desertion of poor little Syd.

The person on whose assistance she could rely was an unmarried elder sister, distinguished as proprietor of a cheap girl's school in one of the suburbs of Ziondon. This lady—known to local fame as Miss Wigger—had already proposed to take Syd intc pupil teacher. Miss Wigger promised, "till she can earn taking my

into trainining as a 'I'll force the child on,

and lodging by When she gets older she

Her board Sewest class. will replace my regular governess, and I •hall save the salary."

With this proposal waiting for a reply, Un. Westerfield had only to inform her aister that it was accepted. "Gome here," ahe wrote, "on Friday next, at any time before two o'clock, and Syd shall be ready for you. P. S.—I am to be marTied again on Thursday, and start for America with my husband and my boy !»y next Saturday's steamer."

The letter .was posted, and the mother's aaxious mind was, to use her own phrase, relieved of another worry.

As the hourof 8 drew near on Wednesday evening, Mip.-Westerfield'* anxiety iftroed her to find relief in action of. some snsd. She opened the door of her nitting room, and listened on the stairs. It sgll iwrftirt a few minutes to 8 o'clock, wow there was a ring at the honse bell. £he ran down to open the door. The 4«jt*aat happened to be ih the hall, and cjawered toft bell. The next moment toe door was suddenly closed again. "Anybody there?" Mrs. Westerfield

jmmmmsmm

"${«, ma'am." This seemed strange Had the old jwrfctch deceived her, after all? "Look ib. the letter box," she called out. The Mitviat obeyed and found a letter. Mrs. 'Westerfield tore it open, standing on the ettirt. It contained half a sheet of common note paper. The interpretation of 'the ctpher was written on it in these wfids: "BoMmber number 12,Porbeok Road, Mu John's Wood. Ge to the summer k«use in the back garden. Count to the feirth plank in the floor, reckoning Am the aide wall on the right as you •Qter the snmmer house. Pry up the {Sank. Look ander the mould and rubmsk. Find the diamond."

I?et a word of explanation accompanied these lines. Neither had the original cipher been returned. The strange •id man had earned his money and had •et attended to receive it—tfad not even •eat word where or how it might be paid. Had he delivered his letter himself? He (at- his msesenger) had gone before the Aattte door could be opened.

A sudden suspicion of him turned her cold. Had he stolen the diamond? She was on the point of Bending for a cab and driving to his lodgings when James came in, eager to know if the interpretation liad arrived.

Keeping her suspicions to herself, she nerely informed him that the interpretation was in her hands. He at once asked to see it. She refused to show it to him until he had made her his wife. "Put a chisel in your pocket when we go to church to-morrow morning." was the «ne hint she gave him. As thoroughly worthy of each other as ever, the betroihed lovers distrusted each other to the last.

At 11 o'clock the next morning they were united in the bonds of wedlock, the landlord and the landlady of the pnblic house in which they had both served being the only witnesses present. The children were not permitted to see the ceremony. Q* Img&BRile church door tietaarrie eir honeymoon

A dirty printed notice in a broken window announced that the house was to let, and a sour-tempered woman informed them that they were free to look at the rooms.

Tho bride was in Use best of humors. She set the* laidegroom the example of keeping up appearances by examining the dilapidated house first. Tfcis done, she Baid sweetly to the person in charge, "May we look at the garden?"

The woman made a strange gnawer to this request. "That's carious," she ssid. James inkrferred for tie first time. "What's curious?" he asked, roughly. "Among all the idle people who have come here, at one time or another, to see this house," the woman said, "only two have wanted to look at the garden.

James turned on his heel and made for the Snmmer house, leaving it-to .his wife to pursue- the subject or not as she pleased. She did pursue the subject.. "I am one of th,e persons, of course, she B?dd. "Who is the other?" "An old man" came on Monday.

The bride's pleasant smile vanished.^ "What sort of person was he?" sae

The sour-tempered womun became pourer than ever. "Oh, how can I tell. A brute! There!" "A brute!" The very words which the ljew Mrs. Bell bridge had herself used when the expert had irritated her. With serious misgivings she, too, turned her stops in the direction of the-garden.

Jamns had already followed her instructions and used his chuel. The plank lay loose on the floor. With both his big hands he rapidly cleared away the mould and the rubbish. In a few minutes the hiding place was laid bare.

They looked into it. They looked at each other. There was the empty hole, telling its own story. The diamonds were gone..

IX.—THE MOTHEB.

Mrs- Bellbridge eyed her husband, prepared for a furious outbreak of rage. He stood silent,- staring stupidly straight before him. The shock that had fallen on his dull brain had stunned it. For the time he was a big idiot—speechless, harmless, hopeless.

She put back the rubbish and replaced plank and picked up

ll~-

the plank and picked "Come, James," she said,

the chisel, pull yourself

together." It was useless to e^ak to him. She took his arm and led him ont to the cab that was waiting at the door.

The driver, helping him to get in, noticed apiece of paper lying on the front seat. Advertisements, seeking publicity under all possible circumstances, are occasionally set flying into the open windows of vehicles. The driver was about to throw the paper away when Mrs. Bellbridge, seeing it on the other side, took it out of his hand. "It isn't print," she said "its writing." A closer examination showed that the writing was addressed to herself. Her correspondent must have followed hsr to the church, as well as te the house in St. John's Wood. He distinguished her by the name which she had changed that ntorning, under the sanction of the clergy and the law.

This was what she read: "Don't trouble yourself, madam, about the diamonds. You have made a mistake— you have employed the wrong man."

Those words—and no more. Enough, surely, to justify the conclusion that he had stolen the diamonds. Was it worth while to drive to his lodgings? They tried the expeiiment. The expert had gone away on business—nobody knew where.

The newspaper came as usual on Friday morning. To Mrs. Bellbridge's amazement it set the queseton of ths theft at rest on the highest authority. An article appeared in a conspicuous position, thus expressed: "Another of the many proofs that truth is stranger than fiction has just occurred at Liverpool. A highly respected firm of ship owners in that city received a strange letter at the beginning of the present week. Premising that he had some remarkable circumstances to communicate, the writer of the letter en tered abruptly on the narrative which follows. A friend of his connected .with literature had, it appeared, noticed a lady's visiting card left on his desk, and had been reminded by it (in what way it was not necessary to explain) of a criminal case which had excited considerable public interest at the time: vis., the trial of Captain Westerfield for wilfully casting away a ship under his command. Never having heard of the trial, the writer, at his friend's suggestion, consulted a file of newspapers—discovered the report—and became aware for the first time that a collection of Brazilian diamonds, consigned to the Liverpool firm, was missing from the wrecked vessel, when she had been boarded by the salvage party, and had cot been found since. Events which it was impossible for him to mention (seeing that doing s* would involve a breach of confidence placed in him in his professional capacity^ had revealed to his knowledge a hiding place in which these same diamonds—in all probability—were concealed. This circumstance had left him no alternative, as an honest man, but to be beforehand with the persons, who (as he believed) contemplated stealing the precious stones. He had accordingly taken them under his protection, until they were identified and claimed by the rightful owners. In now appealing to these gentlemen, he Stipulated that the claim should be set forth in writing, addressed to him under initials at a postoffice in London. If the lost property was identified to his satisfaction, ne would meet— at a specified place and on a certain day and hour—a person accredited by the firm, and would personally restore the diamonds, without claiming (or consenting to recsive)ta reward. The conditions oeing complied with, this reremarkable interview took lace the writer of the letter, escribed as an infirm old man very poorlv dressed, fulfilled his engagement, took his receipt and walked away without even waiting to be thanked. It is only an act of justice to add that the diamonds were afterward counted, and not one of them was missing."

Miserable, deservedly miserable, married pair. Tha^stolen fortune on which they had counted had slipped through their fingers. The berths in the steamer for New York had been taken and paid for. James had married a woman with nothing besides herself to bestow on him, except an incumbrance in the shape a boy.

Late on the fatal wedding day, his first idea, when he was himself again after the discovery in the summer house, was to get back his passage money, to abandon his wife and his step-son, and to escape to America in a French steamer. He went to the office of the English company and offered the places which he had taken for sale. The seasou of the year was against him the passenger traffic to America was at its lowest ebb, and profits depending upon lreights alone. If he still contemplates deserting his wife, he must also sumbit to sacrifice His money. The other alternative was (as he expressed it himself) to "have his pennyworth for his penny, and to turn his family to some good account in New York." He had not quite decided what to do when he got home again on the evening of his marriage.

At that critical moment in her life the bride was equal to the demand on her resources.

If she was foolish enough to allow James to act on his natural impulses, there was probably two prospects Wore lier. In one state of his temper he might knock her down.} In another state of his

VtiltiiiM'iiwifr''ifcjjMi him

Her on'y hope of protecting herself in either case was to tame the bridegroom. In his absence, she wisely armed herself with the most irresistible fascinations of her Sex. Never yet had he seen her drefctd as she was dressed when he came home. Never yet had her magnificent eyes looked at him as they looked now. Emotions for which he was not prepared overcame this much injured man be stared at the bride in helpleffl surprise. That inestimable moment ot weakness was all Mrs. Bellbridge asked 'or. Bewildered by his own transformation, James found himself' reading the newspaper the' next morning sentimentally with his arm around bis wife waist.

By a refinement of cruelty, not one word had been said to prepare little Syd for the dreary change that was now clo3e at hand in her young life. The poor child had seen the preparations for departure, and had triea to imitate her mother in pasking up. She had collected her few morsels of darned and ragged clothing, and had gone up stairs to put iEem into one of'the dilapidated old trunks in the garret play-ground, when the servant was sent to bring her back to the sitting-room. There, enthroned an easy chair, sat a strange lady and there, hiding behind the chair in undisguised dislike of the visitor, was her little brother Roderick. Syd looked timidly at her mother, and her mother said: "Here is your aunt."

The personal appearance of Miss Wig' ger might haY6 snggested a modest distrust of his own abilities to Lavater, when that self-sufficient man wrote his famous work on Physiognomy. Whatever-be-trayal of her inner self her face might have presented, in "the distant time when she was yottng, was now completely overlaid by a surface of flabby fat which, assisted by green spectacles, kept the virtues (or vices) of this woman's nature a profound secret until she had opened her lips.. When she used her voice ehe let

out the truth. Nobodj could hear her speak and doubt for a moment that she was an inveterately ill-natured woman "Make your curtsey, child!" said Miss Wigger. Nature had so tofled her voice as to make it worthy of the terrors of her face. But for het petticoats it Would have been certainly taken for the voice of a man.

The child obeyed, trembling. "You are to go away with me,' the schoolmistress proceeded, "and to be taugbit to make yourself useful under my

Syd seemed to be incapable of under standing the fate that was in store for her. She sheltered herself behind her merciless mother. "I am going away with you, mamma," she stud, "with yeu and Rick."

Her mother took her by the shoulders and pushed her across the room to her aunt.

The child looked at the formidable female creature with the man's voice and" the green spectacles. "You belong to me," said Miss Wigeer, by way of encouragement, "and I have come to take you away." At those dreadful words terror shook little Syd from head to foot. She fell on her knees with' a cry of misery that might hate melted the heart of a savage. "Oh, matama, mamma, don't leave roe behind. What have I done to deserve it? Oh, pray, pray, pray have some pity on me!"

Her mother was as selfish andjas cruel a woman as ever lived. But even her card heart felt faintly the influence of the most intimate and-most sacred of all human relationship. Her florid cheeks turned pale. She hesitated.

Miss'Wigger marked (through her green medium) that moment of maternal indecision and saW that it Was time to assert her experience as an instrhctress of youth. "Leave it to me," she'said to her sister. •''You never did know, and you never w£ll know, how to manage children." is he advanced. The child threwherself shrieking on the. floor. Miss Wigger's long armB caught her up, held her, shook .her. "Be quiet, you imp!" It was needless to tell her to be quiet. Syd's little curly head sank on the schoolmistress' shoulder. She was carried into exile without a word or a cry—she had 'fainted.

To be Continued In the Sunday Exprm.l

The Apache Campaign.

llupublican. When the history of the war with the Apaches came to be written in detail, it will probably be seen that there has been some unjust criticism showered uj)on the army. The campaign notes written by Lieutenant Pettit and others furnish ample suggestions of the unusual difficulties encountered. This last campaign against Geronimo lasted sixteen months, and during that period one-sixth of the .army ef the United States has been in continuous action pursuing about eighty

Apaches. From a distance it would seem almost impossible that tie capture should have been so long delayed but any one who will take the trouble to read the official reports and the general literature of the subject will readily conclude that the army has done well in capturing Geronimo as soon as it has.

The border region of the United States in Arizona ana Mexico is probably abont as unpromising a locality for fighting according to rule as may be found in the world. It is seamed with deep, canyons, corrugated witk lofty an mountain races, and desolate with wide, sandy plains, often strewn with rocks and water and grass are both scarce, and in wide distriots impossible to obtain. Followed closely oy our troops the Indiana suddenly separate, and each individual, following a different tortuous "and almost impassable trailL reaches a distant point in the mountains, joining his companions, where they are secure for the time being. An Apache can travel from seventy-five to one hundred miles in twentyfour hours on foot. He is

the embodiment of physical endurance. Steel-sinewed boilt for long marches armed with the best rifle and ammunition which modern ingenuity has invented, the Apache is the most formid able and wily enemy encountered hy the army. "In Indian combats," says Gen. Crook, "it must be remembered that you rarely see an Indian you see the puff of smoke, and hear the whisi of his bullets, but the Indian is thoroughly hidden in the rocks, and even his exact hiding place can only be conjectured. The soldier, on the contrary, must expose himself, and exposure is fatal. The Apaches only fight with regular soldiers when they choose, and when the advantages are all on their ode. In operating against them the only hope ot success lies in using their own methods." This latter course has been crowned with success, but through much tribulation. A proper comparison of the difficulties of Apache warfare can only be made with the Russian campaign again Schamyl and the Turkish camsigns against the Montenegrins. The ussians poured out blood and treasure in the Caucasus for a generation before they reduced the country. Hie Turks have never yet conquered Montenegro. Army after army of the Turks has been annihilated in the passes of the Black Mountains. The Txernagorki, fleet and sure of foot as their own goats, know every path across the mountain ramparts and select their own defensive points. Thus a handfull of these mountaineers annihilated Kara Mahoud's vast Turkish' army at Krussa in 1797. The Turks fought in the regular way. The Montenegrins jumped from rock to rock, firing. Todenatsnoh an enemy requires thetkmsdsaww of twOm Mtdtext-

Oblivion by

:xjB EXPRESS, TBBRE HAUTE, SUNDAY, OCTOBE.K 10,

AN INDIANA AUTHOR.

HI* Littrur Ittthodi and Piiwnal'lT— The

Story of

a OonBtrj-BtMBeiJreia

Bfr». Conner.

Mr. Howe writes ss he talks, or rather as he relates—in that effective off hande4 fashion that thrills by its utter absence of Btilted phrases. I remember how we passed the afternoon of that same cheer* leas antumn day, inspecting the manuscript of the still incomplete"My tery," Mr. Howe supplying the unwritten gaps in tie novel with a personal narative of their situations. He pictured to me the incongruously large village church, with its mighty organ, hid away up in the dark shadows of the loft the sweet, simply dressed little woman, with her great instinctive passion for music, hieing herself, all alone in the gloaming, to the spectral retreat and there, ail unobserved, as she thinks, pouring out her heait's story —her .unsuspected love—through the medium of the organ notes wbiie down below, amid the barren 'array of vacant pews and benches shrouded in the deeper shadows, of a pillar, sits that human enigma, a stranger to all, the man, between whose heart and hers nature has fashioned a mysterious link of love—sitting there and feeling, for he hears not, that music creeping deeper and deeper into the subtile windings of his soal interpreting by the strange gifts of love those moans, Chose wails, those gentle Whispers of passion into their true signification. Ana he steals, like the great hulking, bashful fellow that he is, up into the organ loft, with a heart sore and bursting, and begs her, once her fright overcome—to let him pump the organ—while she still evolves from her heart those rapturous strains of har

Although his style is seemingly loose and little polish bestowed upon it in its first draft, Mr. Howe is. a careftd reviser and not at all an ofi-hapd writer. His favorite method, and indeed so far I know his only method, is to secure an ordinary ledger and to fill only the right hand, leaving the left for subsequent embel-

tions to be introduced. As a result, the left hand page often tells more of the stcry than the right but it is to this system of writing that he attributes his success, and the left-hand page, as a rule, is quoted far more copioilsly than the right. Onoe completed, it has ceased to possess any interest, and the work of copyingdef ilv I-*— involves upon a young lady relative, who haB become quite an expert in deciphering Mr. Howe's decidedly journalistic chirography and whimsical signs, which are supposed to indicate the order in which the interpolations are to be inserta I am A 0 ed. All his work is done Site hours, and| extends far into the nigiit His wife, a refined and most excellent lady, is a patient sympathizer with her husband's aspirations, though, strange to say, of radically different convictions upon social and religious qUS?tious from the advanced and cynical ideas u. nim whose truest friend she is. Mr. Howe the father of three children* two of whom, I believe, are named for characters in hisnovds.

The New York Mail and Express, under the head of -'How Singular Things Occur," l.ells hoti "The Story df a Country Town" got a foothold in the east. In poor type, on rough paper, clumsily bound, it madeitii appearance lit great newspaper offices and swell magaaines. Everywhere it was dismissed with a brief, indifferent paragraph. By all the tokens the book fell dead. Barney McAuley, the actor, returning from the west, took with him the Atchison book. It aroused in him a curious interest) and he passed it around iamong a group of newspaper acquaintances. H. G. Crickmore, of the New York World, read it, and was charmed. He gave it to

feljfca A,. Connor, writers of the World, who published otlfe of the most remarkable book notices ever appearing in an American newspaper—nearly two columns in length. The London Saturday Review and the magazines then took it up, and since that time it has had more newspaper attention than any other American novel 6ver jiubliflhedi

It has been assorted in the press here and there, that Mr. Howe, like Mark Twain, is a native of Missouri, but these statements ari erroneous. The genial novelist was, born in Wabash county, Indiana, May S, 1854. In 186"7 his parents inoved to Hstrrison county, Missouri, and it Is Bethany—the bounty seat of Harrison—that is supposed to be the scene of "The Story of a Country Town." Certain it is that his father, who waB a Methodist preacher, published and edited a paper at Bethany, as described in the novel, and that Mr. Howe learned the printer's trade there in his father's office. This sub-rosa admission may lend a peculiar zest to the enjoyment of Mr. Howe's first novel by future readers, and 1 make it sithply for their benefit.

At home Mr. Howe is one of the most genial of hosts. You will find in his reading-room a library table in whoso drawer rests an embryo novel, book case containing Dickens, his ideal, and a few other books, which comprise his library a piano, and in one torner a pair of Indian clubs and boxinggloves. From the laboratory of an intellectual wizard, you may see that same room suddenly transformed into a musicroom for the rehearsal of neighboring glee clubs and quartettes, or into a gymnasium for the solution of a long-pending disagreement as to the relative fist powers of two rival boxers of Mr. Howe's acquaintance, who are sure to find an impartial and enthusiastic referee in him. To summarize it may be said of him that his fledging genius scorned to scale no obstacles, from leading a minstrel troupe and biass band of his «wn organization through the Kansas villages in the early stages of his enthusiasm for art, to expending $800 in the printing of his first novel, whose fate was redeemed from oblivion only through his free and generous distribution of a "large surplus of copies" among his friends, one ef whom, the lamented Barney McAuley, finally guided to its goal of greatness.

That Awful Night At Charleston, Mew York World, A young lady who arrived in this city from Charleston yesterday, said to a World reporter: "I liave neither language ner nerve to describe the horrors of the last few days. We had no warning. First came that awful roaring sound, and we all stared and looked at each other with frightened questioning faces. Then the house swayed swiftly and heavily from side to side, the walls crashed all around legroes yelled, men, women and chilwho poured out by hundreds into the streets, half of them in their nightclothes, cried out in terror. Then the gas we»t out, the skies were darkened, and no one could find nearest and dearest. All the while the earth rolled beneath our feet like the waves of the ocean. Suddenly all around us the skiea were lit by firesin all parts of city, and news came that the water-works were damaged, and people cried desparingly, "Ao water! no water!" I hardly dare recall what happened that night When 1 think of it, it seems as if my reason would leave roe but of all I loved none are dead and sone wounded. "The streets are full of tents, and turn where one will, ruin stares one in the face. Babies are born in the' streets. We had a patient of my brother's who was brought to our garden. She felt as if being-near him might save her, and she yet lives. Iwas many timis at the in thejbespital.'

The mornlsg of that night she^d operation performed upon her. hospital felL She was found conscious, lay in th# BUeet 8 .*j and then was brought to ufl. W what we could for her. I scarcely kn». her name, but nothing matters now. conventional ties and ceremonies are swept away, "A friend came to me and said: lhere is a possibility of getting away, come if ou canso I ventured into the house jr a few things, snatched up some clothes and a little money, and came. Such a wreck as there was upstairs, wardrobes down, walls cracked, plastering falling and yet when I went elsewhere I found I had much to be thankful for— but oh, cay iiome! my home "I am in the clothes I wore Toesday, but I seem to feel nothing but that I fttn cold—always cold. WhilS th« earth-quake-was going on what seemed to me more terrible than the yells of the negroes and the cries of the children, were the sounds that the animals made. The flora broke into howls, the horse screamed like human being and even the fowls made the most unearthly noises. Jets of water came from the eaith hot that it burnt our feet with the steam as it ran by, and the air was stifling with the smell of sulphur. Don't think 1 am un settled in my mind. I am truthfully telling you of sights and sounds that must haunt me forever. "In the midst of all I could not pray, and-many other people told me the game thing. I felt that God was power less of Certainly he would stay his hand.

I have faced death at sea and in illness but I have never felt as I did then it seemed bo hopeless. This was utter misery. "Even in the midst ef all that tragedy some amusing thing happened. Old Mr. Henry A. Middleton is over ninety-four years of age and has become^ so feeble that his family persuaded him to give up his usual summer at Newport. The Whole side of his house fell out and the family escaped to the garden, where they camped all night. In the morning the old gentleman disappeared for a while and returned in the couvse of an_ hour,

his usual morning bath, despite the.- fact that the whole side tf the house was out, dressed himslelf carefully in clean clothes and, when the family wanted to sent send him away, said that he found the earthquake very exciting, iand h» meant to stay and see it out. "Another thing that wasverv funny wSs an old lady-who came runniiDg out tons as we were crouched among the fig-trees in our garden. She was in bed when the shock come, and though she brought her stockings and most ctf ner clothes in her hand she had only taken time to put on her cap.

THE TOWER OF LONDON.

Senator Calien and HU Party Na: Escape a Royal Dungeon. New -York Sun. "A man whose name I forget, Senator Veau

and Jim Fay, who is a plumber the avenue, crossed the At-

ttp here ou

about

^is Bummer," said Senator

Jantic with nM ,rday.' "We arrived John J. Cdliefi yrav.

in London about

waiiY

Au and

London,

of Coarse visited the ToWSf We fouBd it guarded by a let eaters, all dressed tfp in blue unllo.. plentifully sprinkled with tinsel. Four of them surrounded tft, and each one of us had to giVS each one of them a shilling before they'd Bhow us anything. I was anxious to see the block on whick the head of Lady Jane Grey'was chopped off. Now, you know nobody except the bluest-blooded skeletons are allowed in the tower, and so, while we were tip-toeing along and speaking in whispers, our keepers led us up to a shelf on which there were two •wio an0-"T were guarded by a

MARRIED FROM THE DEPTHS.

A tsader of New TorkM Fast IJfe Wedded in the West. New York Star.

rail

high. "Whose skulls are

those t? I asked. "Oh 1" says one of thfe teftfeaters, "those har the skulls of Lady Jane Grey End 'fl Royal 'Ighness King Enery the Eighth.' "Gad, how bad I wanted to feel of them, and so, when the beef-eaters weren't looking, I stepped over the rail and ran my hand over each of them. I #a£ detected, and the .four beefeaters straightway held A conference in which it was decided that the governor must be communicated with. When we got ready to go we found we could a't go. I asked why, and was told that a message had been sent to the governor informing him that four Americans had desecrated the skulls of Lady Jane and 'is Royal 'igriness. We raved a little bit, but it didn't do us any good, and fto ftfere compelled to remain until word came from the governor that we should be allowed to depart with a caution. The beef-eat-ers led us to the door as though it was owing to their influence that we were not locked up in prison. They held out their hands for more fee but they didn't get it. We felt blue, not because we were detained, but because we saw so many implements used by the English in murdering people, thgffl.'

The senator chewed his cigar retrospectively for a minute and then continued: "Talk about feeing! Paris takes the cake. I'm going to make a little list some day of tthat it costs an American to remain in Paris twenty-four hours. Now this is. solid fact. It coitus ten centimes for a clean towel twenty centtimes for apiece of soap, and all the way up to a napoleon for a little civility. I don't believe everybody is struck as we were, but the folks just soak an American. I tell you, my boy, there's only one New York, and that's right here, and when I go away again, by gad, I'll just stay home."

A BOY'S TOTAL DEPRAVITY-

Killing and Maiming Horns, Cows, and Poultry Oat Revenge. New York Ban.

Last summer Noah Mott, a farmer of Lyell township, Pennsylvania, took a 14-year-old boy named Orrin Sullivan to earn his keeping in the farmer's family. The boy's parents were drunken and disreputable people, who had always neglected him, and who disappeared from the vicinity last spring, leaving the boy to shift for himself. He was an extremely bad boy, but in hope cf reforming him and making something of him Farmer Mott took him in. Young Sullivan was sullen and disliked work, but performed such duties as were laid out for him, but always under protest and grumblingly.

One day last week he flew in a passion at a horse he was leading, and was hammering it unmercifully with a fence rail when discovered by Mrs. Mott. SLe ordered the boy to cease, and he swore at her and called her vile names. She told her husband of the boy's conduct, and he berated Sullivan soundly, and ordered him to quit the premises and never come back. The boy went away cursing and muttering.

The next morning Farmer Mott found his thirteen cows in his barn yard, each with its tail severed close to its body. A corn cutter, the blade covered with blood, lay in the yard. On entering his barn after this shocking discovery, the farmer found two valuable colts hamstrung, and a favorite mare dead, with her throat cut. The .poultry house floor was covered with dead chickens. No one has any doubt that this frightful work was done by Orrin Sullivan out of revenge. The country is being scoured by searchers after the yonng villiaa, and it will fare badly with him if he is caught. As yet no trace of him has been found.

To have the fashionable coiffure in Paris the hair need only have the appearance of not having been dressed.

From the devil-maj-caro world that ^es into life at dusk, that flourishes

under the J**6? and worn when

fr°m

world of fallen women anu town there disappeared Bome montba girl who might have ruled it, had she bo willed. The youngest daughter of a prominent police official of this city, she was for five yeers the most brilliant figure in the garish picture that the police keep veiled. There was bom in that girl the soul of an Aspasia,

Cleopatra, a Theodora. When she was but fourteen years old she knew she was destined to the life she afterward entered into. She said so again and again to the one man she could trust— her physician. When she was nineteen she fell. Bat for a passion thai seised her, the passion for strong drink, her world would have enthroned her, and she, like Cleopatra, would have ruled

She is a beautiful woman. Her figure is well rounded, but not over luxuriant Her features belie her character, for in the well chiseled nose, the firm, square law one reads determination. Her ears are like those little curled, pink, semi translucent sea shells. Her hair brown and of that silkiness that high bred women prize her and she can look out of genuously. In her cheeks during those times when she controls her passion for drink there is a warm glow. Her carriage is queenly. This girl, .leaving her lather's house, leaving her mother and hersisters, took apartments in the middle of the whirlpool that swirls about Sixth avenue ana Thirtieth street. Always well dressed, her figure grew familiar to loungers on Broadway and to loungers in the club windows. She was as much at home at one as another of the resorts that girls of her class affect, but there was one saloon that knew her best. "The Silver Grill" was a microcosm of rollicking night life in

New York. At one table, perhaps, sat a couple of men tired of the Union Club's intense respectability, or a trio from the Knickerbocker Club. In the corner a group of Columbia college sophomores, "going it at an awful rate, deah boys," as they confided to their envious classmates next day. The son of a millionaire might be vis-a-vis to Mr. "Kid" Miller, ana dudes sometimes elbowed Charlie Mitchell. There itwas that this daughter of the police official found forget'ulness. Of all who frequented the place, no one so quick at repartee, not one of so much native with as she, Sometimes no persuasion could induce her to drink anything but milk and seltzer, or apollinaris, or some ither harmless stuff sometimes the nimble waiters could not fill fast enough her glass With beer or champagne or Bass. One morning she entered, flung oft her wraps, threw herself into a chair, and exclaimed:

"I've been dining with two old men at the Victoria hotel, a party of four. Australians, the men are, and what do you think they have been talking about Why, the number of sheep they own. Pouf! They bored me. I told them I detest mutton, and came here."

Unfortunately for her she fell in love with

man

known about town, a

^sggart who once summoned .Ll'8 Httle courage to fight a

sufficient oil*!8

little 001

duel and who fl.of his past associations. often, One night she uwv her friends with one ff «er' eyes -ac

•neared

ner ineuuo *.-» _ii_„ and blue and the side of ht"* svrol.en and inflamed. rf-nrt "He struck me, the brute, he me he actually struck a woman/' ®ne e^alaimed-

Then silg talked from one to another table, where her ^«ndSMsat, pointing to her discolored eye and tciul1® it?uok ine, the coward."

The early winter's morning found on one occasion two ytfaflg gentlemen lingering at one of the tables. One of them owns a pair of trousers for every day in the year, but every one says that he is a rattling good fellow. The other was an Intimate of his. The girl's friend was there, nushed and angry, for they had quarreled again". The Jirl sat near by, distrait and silent. Of a stidden the man who ence wanted to fight a duel approached the table where the two friends sal, and leaning over sneered to one of them: "I hear, sir, that you have foeen talking about me that you have been criticising my behavior at the ball the other night. Is that so?"

The young man looked up from his wine at his-huge aggressor, but his face did not pale nor his voice quiver when he said) "I wish, sif( to have nothing te do with

you." "But," retorted the other, "1 demand an apology. Apologize, or I'll thrash ypu right here," and he began po draw on his gloVe. "As to thrashing me," returned the gentleman at the table, still very calm, "you ought to be able to do that. You're twice as Dig a man as I am, but—I won't apologize."

The girl had tttrnedin her chair and sat watching the scene with hef very soul in her eyes. Her friend took off his glove very slowly and ostentatiously, finger by finger, then, seizing it at the wrist, he slapped the other's race with it. "I brand you as a coward," he cried "Pshaw," came the girl's voice from behind him, as clear and cold and cutting as a Castilian blade, "who ceres What you say Society has crossed you off its lists long ago."

One night, when his friend entered the restaurant with two women, the policeman's daughter in a most tremendous passion overthrew tables, smashed chairs, hurled china and castors about, and finally sank to the floor in a paroxysm of weeping. The two women fled in terror. "I'm tired of life," wailed the girL have no friends. I have no money. I'm going down to the river and drown myself."

A club man who was there straightened ap, searched through all nis pockets and finally fished out half dollar and handed it to the girl. "Beastly dark," said he. "Never find river. Go buy a cab. Good bye."

The girl went out and in about two minutes a boy rushed into the saloon and told the club man that he was wanted instantly ontside.

The girl was without imploring a cabman to drive her to the river, while the cabman bluntly refused to take "blooming crank" as a fare.

Soon afterward the girl was lost to her usual haunts. Her associates said that she had gone to Denver with the only son of a wealthy widow. Not long ago there were rumors that she was accidently killed while riding somewhere near San Francisco then these rumors denied.

There appeared yesterday morning in a New York newspaper the notice of her marriage with a young business man in San Francisco.

A Burning Petroleum Well. Traversing a portion of the oQ regions of Pennsylvania recently in mid-winter, after surmounting a steep hill by means of a rocky and zigzag road, the writer found a well-wooded valley on the opposite slope in which a small clearing was visible, A deep snow covered and the branches of pine and/hemlock were beat with its weight^Bising eqt

If .'.

of the center of the field, with a background of the densest forest, was a tall Same singularly out of keeping with the bleak surroundings. The air was very Btill, and the flame scarcely bent from the perpendicular, although swaying slightly at times and varying in height. At its highest it was level with a young pine near by, whose Blender top was twenty feet above the ground. Stopping to examine it, a low sullen, surf-like roar proceeding from the flame was heard, and observation shewed that the snow 'vin a circular space fully one hund£dfeev :n

diaHieter

h""

writteu made his

melted by

the heat. to encounter in Xt WM ft BtrADjfi 8^ riflinff ftnn&r* the woods. The tall flam..,

pj^

MR.HOWELLS AND THE PRESS.

The Character "Hartley Hubbard" W*i an Iosnlt to City Journalists. "Tavernor" in Boston Post.

I noticed in an evening paper yesterday a statement, copied from a Worcester journal that Mr. Howells is "making studies of life in a newspaper .office, with a view to make journalism the basis of a novel." As near as I can ascertain, thfc statement has strayed over from a period two or three years ago, when Mr. Howells did look into one of our newspaper offices here in Boston and got some suggestions from a working journalist about newspaper lif® aad ways. The result was embodied in "A Modern Instance," whose hero, Bartly Hubbard, was a very unpleasant representative of the newspaper business. Mr. Howells has had a littte fitful newspaper "color" in his Bubsequent novels, and has atoned a little for the for the disagreeable impression that Bartley Hubbard left by creating Mr. Evans, the good newspaper man. But I have been impressed, in reading "A Modern Instance" and his later works, with the evident fact that the author knows office vi while he frnows the city newspaper only at second hand. The country paper that Bartley edited in Maine had an office that was very real, as well as realistic, and every adjunct, from the foreman, whom Bartley quarreled with, down to the new girl typesetter, was genuine. The picture cf a Bosten newspaper office was not exactly incorrect, but it was a broad outline only the defining lines were pot there. One can remember not much moro than that the men "on the staff" wore green shades over their eyes, called each other "esteemed contemporary," and intrigued for places. The reason for the difference is that Mr. Howells, as the Worcester paper to wbich I have referred takes occasion to remark, was brought up in a country newspaper office, while I believe he had no actual connection with a Boston daily newspaper nearer than was involved by his writing some Venetian letters to the Advertiser for $2 a -mn, back in the years before he had 'A Chance Acquaintance' and

wun ine eviaeni iac* uittc un knows the country newspaper very intimately from familiarity, he knows the city newspaper office

nutation."

After ^any

Years«

Arkansaw Traveled. A young man who app»

tremulous voice i"*?11.

CAIPA1QIUIIS

ently from the earth thedar*. *«ilen tbe back-ground, laden with new-i«. snow the glare of the light upon th» white field, and the utter absence of human habitations, formed a scene at once desolate, beautiful, and impressive. The gathering shades of night addea a wild and fantastic element, and it required no great stretch of fancy to see wood-nymphs and sprites dancing in the spectral light. In the Dark Ages

Buch

P081*

tion on A daily paper was .queL)°hney concerning his qualifications.J am a fine writer, he said. "How do you know?" "Because I wrote a thing for our home paper." "Well, let me tell you what to'do. Go off and read 'Benton's Thirty Years in the American Senate.' Then come back and 111 give you a place. You must not attempt to deceive me." "I Won't."

The editor, knowing that the young fellow was ignorant enough to be honest, leaned back in his chair and chuckled in contemplation of his own sagacity.

Years, on their noiseless wheels, rolled on and on. One day a gray-haired editor sat nodding in his office. Some one knocked at the door. "Come in."

An old man, hobbling on crutches, entered the room. His eyes were sunken ^nd his skin looked like ill-used parch-

m"Well

sir visitor i°

we*k

and

U1 haTe 001118

claim my situation.'* ''I don't understand you."I have read 'Benton.'"

The old editor tottered to Hi." atafed at the visitor and exclaimed: "tfl it nossible?"' "Yes, Fnfached the last page of the ordeal this morning." "My poor friend," said the editor, "the wofld has made many leaps since you retired from active life, and I tear yen will be unable to do nftwspaper work. Your long course of reading has made yeu verbose and tiresome but do not be downcast. lean secure you a paying situation." "What work shall have to perform?" "Editing a magazine."

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flame would have been invested witn supernatural attributes. To a Pennsylvanian such things are not uncommon. It was simply a deserted petroleum well and doubtless some way-farer haa ligntec the gas escaping from it. Such be^conB are plentiful, although seldom met V»n in so wild a locality. A.lo*g_ tt'e Alleghany River and it* tributaries, on the banks of the Upper Ohio, at Murrysville, in Washington county, and in various portions of Eastern Ohi®, such flames have become a familiar sight. Certain portions of the eity of Pittsburg are illuminated every night by these magnificent gas lights^ which at timeti turn night into day.

A-

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Is a Family Paper, aad iwfspf Hf| good reading mattsp Mm tmf