Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 January 1910 — Page 3

The Quest of Betty Lancey

chapter lit ::: i They held - the Inquest that same Afternoon, and In tne room ■where Cerlsae Wayne’s body had been found. Dr. McGann, the coroner, could find no trace of violence on the young and perfect body. N "She died of heart? failure," he ramarked, very simply. “Probably the animal who, caused the police such fright and trouble gained access to the foom, and the sight and shock were too much for her patently fragile constitution to - withstand. Remember, that this apparition has brought on Mrs. Desterle a stroke of paralysis, and may result in the permanent derangement of her mind. I have wired Doubleday, Franz & Co., in San Francisco," he continued. "Their reply Jpst received is thart they know but little about Cerisse Wayne. They declare that they knew her as Mrs. Wayne. Also that ' for five years past $2,000 a month has been deposited to her credit with them. Parke & Gray, solicitors, of London, England, have handled the drafts sent to the San Francisco bankers. Mrs. Wayne drew on amount so freely that at times her balance was practically nothing, and frequently her account showed a small overdraft For the'past several' months, however, her demands on the account have been very slight. Last month $4,000 was •ent for her credit, and her present balance is approximately $6,000. Besides this they haye a casket, said to contain almost priceless Jewels, that belong to her. A copy of a photograph of Mrs. Wayne, which-they have in their possession, has been forwarded, and Henry Franz, one of the Junior members of the firm, is coming East to view the body. They report they have cared for her mail for some time past, and during this time she has had it forwarded to nearly every imaginable point, both in this country In her handbag there was nearly $l5O and nothing to indicate that she had beerwnentally depressed or was in poor health. Qver-indulgence in cigarettes may have unduly excited her mind. It Is patent that she read and smoked till «he grew drowsy and then lightly tossed her book aside. Possibly she wakened from some quiet dream to behold thar creature in the room, and died of fright. There was one second «f Intense horror ancLall was over” "How -did that—that—that—get in doctor?” interrupted the still disheveled Doherty. "Don’t you know that there’s no place on the front of this, nor any other bulldln’ in the block where a cat could crawl up fo* a footin’? Ain’t they all smooth sandstone, worn as slick as me last year’s coat. And wasn’t both of the windows thebe closed and locked In the bargain, and no chimney in the room? Maybe the creature killed the pritty little girl after It got in alright, but how did it get in? Here’s another thing. Will ye look at that bed? Now there’s been two people sleeping in that bed, sir, one of them far heavier and bigger than the poor little girl you’ve Just been lnquesting over. And here, now, is a cigarette stub that’s different from the others stronger; can’t you see?” The policeman held out the stub in question, and it was passed wonderlngly from hand to hand, and later marked exhibit “A.” ! "Entrance might have been effected from the hall,” said the Coroner with A puzzled frown. . f "So? Wasn't the door bolted from the inside? Can’t you see where it was broke to get in?” retorted Doherty. "Ah, someone was inside and rushed out when Mrs. Desterle opened the door,” muttered Larry Morris of the "Times.” S’ Everybody in the room directed his Attention to the corner where the newspaper folk were sitting. There were eight or ten men in the little group and one woman, a fair, calmeyed girl, Betty Lancey of the "Inquirer.” Betty was barely 23, one of those tall, athletic, wholesome girls who demand classification in the mental menu as well-cooked oatmeal with rich cream, country honey, baked apples or new milk. Larry Morris was very much in love with Betty, but he didn’t know it and neither did ■he. Pierre Desterle denied Larry Morris’ suggestion. His wife Annie Desterle could not come as a witness to corroborate his statement Raving and shrieking they had carried her off to the hospital hours before. Pierre, 'for hts wife, and himself, told all he knew of their unfortunate boarder. "She came Monday night,” quavered the little black-skinned fellow. "She was all dressed In green. She had the prettiest eyes you ever saw, they were Just like those of a hurt baby. So many violets were pinned on her breast you’d have thought ’twopld have wearied her to carry them. She brought no trunka only the green bag there. Said she wanted room and bdfcrd for two weeks and would pay well for them. Annlo took her because of what she paid, and because she was so pretty. She slept late mornings and Annie was going to make her move to-morrow because she slept so late it made breakfast drag along till noon. The women in the house didn’t like Miss Wayne They ■aid she painted her face and smoked cigarettes. The men made soft eyes at her and the woman get jealous. Annie said she had awful line things In her valise, and lots of Jewelry#* Annie came up stairs to wake her. for it was lunch time, and then it all happened. There couldn’t anybody have

By MAGDA. F.WEST

rushed down the staiEKr I was in the hail when Annie fell, and Doherty was with me, and he came right up here after We’d carried Annie to her room. That was.the only time the hall was alone.” * “How long did that take you, Doherty?” asked Johnny Johnson of the newspaper coterie. He was thinking that the Coronepwas a shade too judicial and prosy about the inquiry. “Some six minutes or so,” slowly answered Doherty. "Mrs. Desterle’s a weight to carry; she’s pretty fat, you, know, lately. Her too, it’s clear back on the second flooi\ They read the betters aloud. The' enterprising newspaper boys had already had them photographed so that their papers might reproduce them. The longer of the two was undated, the other bore date of eight months previous, in mid-August and ran: • "Cerisse Dear—Heart of mine, I have so-longed for a letter. Do you still refuse to remember? Will you riot forgive or must. I die without word or sign feom you? Forgive me, Cerisse, dear, forgive me.” The other, couched more foripally, though in the same writing, read: "Cerisse —So the wander-lust still pervades your heart? Can you calm your restless mind and soul and body sufficiently long to realize that home, husband, children and the development of womanhood’s Ideals is the tithe life exacts from each of your ae^? “You must'pay now, Cerisse, or pay at the end. If you defer payment of your indebtedness to the scheme of all creation till the end you will find the interest hard to handle. I shall appeal no more. Entreaties do not move you. Neither do threats and commands are naught to you. But let me impress Ofie thing upon you. If you do not return to me before the first Of the coming year, I will kill you. Do you understand what I mean when I write this? I have never seemed able to make yon comprehend anything I have ever written or said. You won’t understand this, you won’t realize that you Vill be dead, murdered, before the blossbms weight the orchards if you still persist in absenting yourself from H.” “Seems to me that ’H,’ whoever ‘H’ is, must have been intoxicated, deranged or doped on his correspondence course,” whispered Larry Morris to Betty Lancey. "Oh, don’t Joke,” replied Betty. “How can you at such time? Such a beautiful woman as she was, too. I’d have loved to have seen ]ser *® she must have been when she was alive.” “Death from causes unknown. Probably heart failure superinduced by fright,” came the Coroner’s verdict This ultimatum disposed of the body, which was burled next day. But It didn’t of the Monster. That was in a cage In the municipal zoological gardens, snarling, whining and making the hours hideous. And It didn’t dispose of the story. That went flashing around the world on the wires, while newspapers the country over seized the scent to track the “greatest crime mystery of the age.” CHAPTTER TV. . - Early next morning Larry Morris sat in Le Roy’s case, an all night restaurant and rendezvous of t]ie newspaper men, Industriously disposing of a roast beef sandwich. , Larry’s forehead was twisted Into half a dozen corrugations. He was hoping none of the boys would come in till he had got this Wayne story little clearer in his head. Larry and two photographers had made three trips out to the Park to see the awful Thing which some apt reporter had christened the Man-aperilla. . * j • One by one the boys came trooping in. And the Wayne murder was the topic of the night * ’Til tell you what it is, boys,” said Hank Smith. “That Man-AperlUa is half-human and I know it. When those white and black eyes were turner upon me I felt my soul crawl out from under me, and I was left there hanging In space. Tell you what it is, there’s a story there.” “Cut It. Hank, cut It,” called little red-headed John ; Johnston, the best police report#? In town. “Here, Mamie,” to the waitress, ’’bring Hank some eatings so the rest of us can take • rubber mt the conversational game. Wasn't that girl a stunner, though? And did you notice, too, what a dead match that her hair was for the color of ihe pelt on the beast?” Now every man at the table had noted Just that point It was so obvious a point that It was startling. Each had been loath to launch-an opinion on It But Johnny had- a tray with him of pumping all you knew by bold plays. Each man took counsel with himself wondering what Johnny would do next For ten years theee boys and Johnny had met every Monday night, and the crowd bad-learned when to ghre hlfri rope. But Just now Johnny and hta bowl of rice and milk relapsed Into silence while his companions ranged far In wild theories of who “H” waa, what part he had in the life and death of Ceriaae Wayne, whether ahe was wife, widow, murdered pr simply another victim of the suicide list By and by Johnny dug down Into one of the ever bulging pockets of hla always baggy trousers. The by-word waa that Johnny, always looked ao much like a burglar that he never bad any trouble gaining the confidence of

th* rather reticent people of that pi*, session. • “Hunting for a quarter, Johnny, or a toothpick?” questioned Larry Morris. “Here, look at this,” answered Johnny. * Into their midst he twilled the something he had drawn from his pocket It was a man's garter of lavender silk elastic, the buckle hand wrought from rose gold, set round with amethysts and on the face the initial “H,” worked out in emeralds and amethysts of excessive smallness but exceedingly great brilliancy.*•*. \ . “Where did you get that?” dame the chorus. “Well,” said Johnny, “listen. I picked this up In the Desterle house about an hour ago. Saw, everybody about that house has got stage fright They are all moving out An earthquake couldn’t move them quicker than they are going. The death watch has got its grip on the whole thirty-flve boarders. More than halfjof them are speed-. ing away to spend the night with hand-baggage only. Great show, too, to watch them hustle out I’m /going to sheep up there to-night- I picked this garter up In the closet where it had rolled down behind a little shelf. Now women, you know, don't wear - garters like this.”' “Might,” bellowed Hank Smith. •“Saw a telegraph story the other day that they had taken to wearing half hose in New York.” ‘ “But here’s the question," continued Johnny, “no man in the house knew Mrs. Wayne nor anything about her. Why, the only decent word any one of those curious passed about her was that no one had come to see her since she arrived, and that she had appeared embarrassed when her fellow boarders of the sex masculine attempted to pay her any attention.” ‘Til just wager that she was some poor, sweet little girl who had married some old fool for his money,” interposed Philip Hartley, whose sympathetic heart beat for all -the mistreated women in the world. “She’s found him unbearable, and refused to live with him, and he’s Just hounded her to death. That have stood for ‘Hubby,” in the letter that had the threat to kill her. I believe she’s been taking slow poison, and came here where she wasn't known to snuff It off quietly.” "How about the Man-Aperiila?” flouted Larry Morris. “Proceed, Jules Verne 11. Why- don't you go farther, and have it a trained ape sent carrier pigeon, bloodhound-fn shinn by the ogre-husband, to choke her to death?” "Because she wasn’t choked," contended Hartley. “Heavens, what a woman she must have been.” ** “Oh, to kill from Jealousy,” added Hank Smith. “Why, hallo; here’s Betty Lancey at this hour of the morning. Betty, don’t you ever get- through work? And you’re all out of breath. What’s wrong. 'Mamie, get her some 15*£r What is the matter, Betty?’ Betty, white as print paper, sunk on a chair.* Her big blue eyes were opened “Boys,” she said. “Come with come quick, don’t say a word, but tell me, am I crazed of dreaming; has it really happened or am I h&v----lons? Oh, no! don’t stop to finish eating; come quick or It will be too late. I am afraid to stop alone in that awful room* You know I missed my train home and stopped at the hotel tonight, and, oh, it startled me- so.” “What’s up t anyhow?” asked Johnny. “Tell the rest of them, Betty. I’m going up to get chummy with the. mystery, Bleeping all night in the Desterle house. , Maybe Til have a visitation, seeing as how my own head is some reddish. ’Tisn’t like you to have stage fright, Betty.’’ “I haven’t got it.” she snapped. "But Just as I started to get into bed a*nd went over to raise the shade, I looked across the court of the other rooms of the hotel. And in there what do you think I saw?” Womanlike Betty paused to give her audience a thrill. “Oh, nonsense; out with it,” commanded the boys. "Cerisse Wayne, her ghost or her double, and the handsomest man I ever saw!” i (To be continued.)

A Startling Motto.

A traveling salesman died very suddenly In Pittsburg. His relative® telegraphed. the undertaker to make a wreath; the ribbon should be extra wide with the inscription, “Rest In Peace” on both aides, and if there is room, “We Shall Meet in Heaven.” The undertaker was out of town and his new assistant handled Jhe job. It was a startling floral piece which turned up at the funeral. The ribbon was extra wide and bore the Inscription, “Rest In Peace on Both Sides, and if There Is Room We Shall Meet In Heaven.”

Often the Case.

The editor of the magazine was soqiewhat dubious. “Curious,” said he, “that this anecdote of Napoleon has never been in print before.” “It has been In print before,” explained the space writer, “but not attached to Napoleon.” Louisville Courier-Journal.

Agreeable.

Mistress—l don’t want you to have SO much company. You have more callers In a day than I have In a weak. Domestic —Well, mum, perhaps If you’d try to be a little more agreeable you’d hare aa many friends aa I hare. —Puck.

A Waste of Money.

Huh—Reckless and extravagant—lT When did I ever make a useless purchase? Wlf*—Why. there’s that lire extinguisher you bought a year ago; we've never used It once.—Exchange.

Taking the Tips.

“Why did Dollarby sell bis hotel?" "He 'wasn't making money fast enough.” “\frfaat Is he doing now?" "He’s luxuriating In the position eg head waiter.’'—Washington Star.

QUEEN A STICKLER FOR FORM.

Her Majesty Is an Adept at Setting Her (ineats at Ease. -‘M**There is always special etiquette for visitors who are on calling terms with the queen, and any little breach of this etiquette is quickly noticed by her majesty, both she and the princess of Wales being great sticklers for the letter of the law, according to Vogue. If an ordinary visitor, who is on intimate terma with the queen, wishes to be received by her majesty, he or she must call at a time likely to find her majesty at leisure, and the visitor’s name is taken to her in the ordinary way. After waiting a long time, the visitor -Is conducted by a page of the presence to the queen’s room. Courtesies from.ladies and deep bows from men are sometimes followed by the qtieen shaking hands, but she more frequently does so at the endQf the visit. The queen’s own knowledge of etiquette is perfect, and whenever she offers her hand to be kissed or shakenit is always in a manner allowing no difficulty to arise in the visitor’s mind as to what he or she is to do. In one instance a lady usually honored by a hand shake frofn the queen, and who always took oft her glove "lor the purpose, was neither offered it to kiss or shake, which caused her much dlscomforture. But on telling her story to the court official she learned that the queen having been on the point of going out, and having on her gloves, would not offer to shake hands with an ungloved friend. Visitors invariably stand while the conversational subjects ,are started by the queen, who is an adept at setting people at their ease t and knowing intuitively the best subjects of mutual interest. She greatly dislikes a visitor who is shy and cplors and looks agitated when addressed. At the finish of the interview the queen generally gives a small bow or offers her hand, and then turns slightly to one side to save the very trying necessity of an entirely backward exit from her presence.

CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

A curious story of a night in prison during the Reign of Terror in France is told by Monsieur Fecjrers. Probably few political prisoners ofthat period had their fears of the guillotine so promptly removed as did Monsieur Ferrers and his companions. Some sixteen prisoners were thrown into a dungeon of the prison of Tarbes. It was so dark that no man could 'see his hand before his face. Suddenly a click, as if a box had been closed, was heard, and a voice' speaking with an -Italian accent was heard: “Well, here is one captured, now for judgment. What is your name?” Then a small, squeaky voice replied, “I am called Mouse.” “What have you done for the Revolution? Where were you on the great tepth of August?” “In a church.” “O fanatic! fanatic! And where were you on the immortal thirty-first of May?” ‘‘ln a cheese dairy.” —. "Monopolist and fanatic! You are condemned to death and Immediate execution.” v There was a slight noise, a little cry, and then all was silent. At intervals through tpe night similar dialogues ye re heard,, and to the terrified Imagination of the prisoners, they always ended with the death of the victim. Who could tell at wh&t moment his turn might eome? But daylight brought cheer. It was discovered that the dungeon was full of mic», and that an Italian prisoner, who had a mouse-trap, had been whiling away the hourg by catching mice and passing judgment upon them.

Got Too Familiar.

A story told of Justice Brewer concerns a trip he made to his old home In Kansas, accompanied by Mrs. Brewer. In Washington a Justice of the Supreme Court Is spoken of as “Mr. Justice,” and that is the title Mrs. Brewer always has heard. When they reached Chicago, however, the “Mr.” was dropped and the Jurist was referred to as “Justice Brewer." At Omaha some old friends called him “David J.,” and when they crossed the Kansas line some former neighbors referred to him as -“David.” “Let’s go home#” suggested Mrs. Brewer. “Why?" asked the Justice. “Because, dear,” Mrs. Brewer replied, "I am afraid If we go any further they will be calling you ’Davie.’ ” —Cleveland Leader,

A Bad Defeat.

She—l have lost all faith ty human kind. He—What makes you so pessimistic? She—Why, under the test of the pure-food laws the very first thing to fall was the angel food.—Baltimore American.

Looked Like a Record.

Mrs. Crimson beak —What are you going to do with that porous plaster, John? Mr. Crlmsonbeak—l'm going to see what tune It will play on the pianola! —Yonkers Statesman. _

The Feminine Faney.

Somehow a girl doesn't Imagine she Is. happy unless her love for some man Is strong enough to make her miserable- T'

For the Little Folks

BhtTTY AND SUSAN, Bouncingßetty loitered Idly On the dusty road to town; Black-ejted Susan, trim and tidy. Chid her for her tattered gown, “See haw soiled it is, and faded! Creep beneath the bars, my friend; In this field ’tis clean and shaded, And your frock I’ll help you mend.” Kindly -Susan’s plan refusing, Careless Betty made reply, “Oh, ’tis vastly more amusing ; Here to watch the passers-by!** "“Sarah J. Day, in the Christian Register. fHE NEW LITTLE GIRJLi. Bc*ty Babbitt was bitterly homesick, her own home, too. You see, Betty had, as she said “always lived In a small town in the northern part of New Hampshire.” ' Always in this case meant only nine years, Betty that seemed a very long time. Betty’s father wqs , a doctor, who had given up his coun try practice and had come to the city to make a new home. She was out leaning over the garden fence, looking longingly at a group of children who were playing happily together, when an old gentleman came along. “What Is your name, little girl, and why aren’t you playing with the others?” he asked. “Betty Babbitt is my name." She answered, and then she hesitated a little. “I want to go out, but you see I’m the new little girl on the street, and” —swallowing a big lump —“you see, they haven’t asked me.” Now no lodger able to swallow the lumps, she sobbed right out: “I want to go back home. I don’t like to stay here a little bit; and mamma’s homesick, too, only she won’t say so. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I want to go back where I know people, and whero everybody liked'me —well, any way. they acted as if they did,” she. added, feeling that perhaps she had not been very modest. The old gentleman had small children In his own home, three little grand-daughters, consequently he knew about the griefs of Httle folk. “I must find some friends for thla lonely little Betty Babbitt,” he said to himself. “Wonder what I’ll do first.*' But before kind old Mr. Small had time to plan out ibis course of action, Betty made friends for herself, and thlA lA how -4t happened. Katharine Kimball, who lived on thp apposite side of the street, and who was nine, too, had brought her little sister Mary out to play. Mary was three; and was just toddling around, so happy to be allowed# to play with the “big girls.” The girls were playing school on the steps, and Katharine was teacher. In her .desire to make the play school as nearly.like the real school as possible, she had forgotten her promise to her mother not to let the little one go Into the street. Mary, tiring of the school exer* cfses, and seeing Betty over the way, decided to go to her. Just as she was halfway across the street, a big touring car dashed around the corner and was almost upon the child before the chauffeur noticed her, but not before Betty saw the dear, chubby little girl coming, and, throwing open the gate with a hang that almost took it off the hinges, ran and dragged her out of danger. “I was coming to see 00, I like 00, ’lttle girl,” gurgled little Mary, patting Betty’s cheek, quite unconscious that.she had ibeen in such danger Katharine and Katharine's friends came running over, and very soon Katharine’s mother, and they all took little Mary in their arms and cried over her. aqd then they bugged Betty, too. Katharine’s mother said, "What la your name, and how did It happen that you weren’t over on our steps playing school with the others?”

“Betty Babbitt.” answered .Betty, trying not to cry again. "The girls don’t want me, I think. You see, I’m the new little girl on the street.” “You are the brave little girl on the street,” replied Katharine’s ‘mother, feelingly; “and now I’m going to tell your mother what a brave daughter she has, and ask her if you may come over and play with Katharine.” “You may be teacher, Betty,” said Katharine, generously. A few days later the friendly old gentleman, coming along Park street and meeting Betty almost flying home from Katharine’s, called out,-*-"Well. Miss Betty Babbitt, how are you today, and are you still the new little girl on the street?” “Oh, no. Mr. Small," replied Betty, her eyes shining, “t’m Katharine’s friend now, and we are going on » picnic this afternoon. And isn’t Portland the very best city in. the whole world, iM Isn't this the nicest street to live on?” And then lbs added, rather apologetically, “Of course 1 like <ny old home In New Hampshire, but that Is country, you know, and now I’m a city girl; and besides, yon see, now I’m one of the girls on this street."—-Sarah 6. Abbott, In the Congregattonallst and Christian World. OOLD AND SILVER MONEY. In a vault in the mint at Philadelphia are piles of bricks made of solid gold. Each brick is only as large aa a cake of kitchen soap, but it weighs About forty pounds. In another vault the silver bullion Is kept. These

bricks v are much larger and much heavier. ‘Both of these metals are to be made Into money for the United States. When the gold coins are to be made the precious metal Is alloyed with copper and other metals to make it hard. Pure gold is so soft that it can be scratched with the finger nail, so is never ased even for Jewelry. After the gold has beep (hardened by adding the other metals to It, it is made Into ingots, which look like long gold wedges. They are about a foot long, as wide as a twenty-dollar gold piece and two inches thick. S When the stiver comes from the melting room it, too, Is poured Into strips or bars. The Ingots of both metals are treated Irf' the same way In the making of coins. One might think that our gold pieces and silver coins are made in molds, but a visit so the mint would show that to be untrue. The precious metals aro rolled out Into thin bands until they ■re of a certain width and thickness. These strips of gold# or silver aro" then run under steel punches, which out the metal Into discs. Each piece Is then weighed by very exact scales, for each coin must contain so much gold or silver. After the weighing these blanks are shoveled into vats of acid, so that all the dirt may ‘be eaten off of them. Whdn dry the blanks are put into long tubes, through which they pass one by one between two dies. The upper die stamps the face of the coin, while the lower stamps the back. The great pressure of tho two dies coming together' baa just force enough to make the Impressions on the coins clear and dis-tinct—-Washington Star. - THE USEFUL CAMEL. In his book on “Tunlk, Kalrouan. and Carthage,” Mr. Graham Petrie describes the characteristic and manners of the camel and the many useful services which that faithful animal performs. He draws the carts, he treads the wheat, be grinds the corn, and he carries such enormous burdens of hay and fodder that one wonders If Indeed his poor humped back would not be broken by adding the proverbial straw. Although his occupations are slal, although hfs figure Is grotesque and ungainly, although hiß eyes are often covered with Winkers and his mouth enclosed by a nose-bag, although his neck Is denuded of It* long, handsome collar and his body fa clipped and shaved till his skin is as bare as a plucked ostrich, although he is lodged In filthy stables and beaten with sticks by heartless boys, he never loses his dignity ol bearing. The manners of a camel are generally perfect, ps Is- noticeable when one sees a score or more drinking at one of the many wells outside the town: Arranging themselves in regular and orderly rows on either side of the trough, they stretch out their long necks and suck up the water with a solemnity and orderliness that would do credit to the formal etiquette of a Chinese mandarin. There is no rude hustling for place,' no Indecorous'-haste, no selfish and ill-bred disregard of neighbors? needs and the rights of others. When a camel (has assuaged hfs thirst, he quietly . withdraws; and, with a graceful motion of the neck which suggests a Courteous bow o* thanks, another takes his place. Every one knows that a camel la able to carry .a store of water which will last him fdr many days when crossing the desert. One day, as I was watching some camels lying In the sun, I learned how the store, waa utilized. I saw a small Iridescent bubble appear from the mouth of one of them, wtyeh rapidly expanded till It was the size of a football. For a nfoment It hung there, looking quite beautiful, if a little uncanny, as It reflected all the colors of the rainbow In the brilliant glare of the AN rican noon. Then there came a liquid, gurgling sound as the water passed down the throat into the stomach.—Our Dumb Animals.

KINDNESS TO DOG REPAID. The life or Jeremiah Dean ot Bloomfield. N. J-, was probably eared by his kindness to a dog. When Dean arrived from Newark at hln home, which Is over bis blacksmith shop, he found a dog asleep on a cot he usually slept In. Dean said':! ‘‘Poor cues. I suppose you’re tired, too," and stroked the animal. Ha did not disturb the dog. but slept In another room. When Dean awoke in the morning ha went to see his new-found friend. To hla surprise he found that a big stone, thrown through a skylight In the rooT of the building, had demolished the bead-piece of the ©ot. Dean believes tramps, to whom ha had refused food, threw the stone. He bae adopted the dog.—New Ynrg World. FORGET THE FAULTB. Do not think of your faults; stlA less of others’ faults; la every per* son who comes near you look for what Is good and strong; honor that; to Imitate It, and your faults will drop off llh© dead leaves when their time comes.—Home Notes. The annual whaling catch at present is about 150