Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 78, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 April 1913 — Page 2

The SABLE HORACE LORCHA

By HORACE HAZELTINE

SYNOPSIS. Robert Cameron, capitalist, consults Philip Clyde, newspaper publisher, retarding anonymous threatening letters he has received. The first promises a sample »f the writer’s power on a certain day/; on that day the head is mysteriously cut from a portrait of Cameron while the latter is In the room. While visiting Cameron in his dressing room a Nell Gwynne mirror is mysteriously shattered. Cameron becomes seriously ill as a result of the •hock. The third letter appears mysteriously on Cameron’s sick bed. It makes airect threats against the life of Cameron. <Jyde tells Cameron the envelope was empty. He tells Evelyn everything and plans to take Cameron on a yacht trip, rhe yacht picks up a fisherman found drifting helplessly in a boat; He gives the name of Johnson. Cameron disappears from yacht while Clyde’s back is turned. A fruitless search is made for a motor boat seen by the captain Just before Cameron disappeared. Johnson is allowed to go after being closely questioned. Evelyn takes the letters to an expert in Chinese literature, who pronounces them of Chinese origin. Clyde seeks assistance from a Chinese fellow college student, who recommends him to Yup Sing, most prominent Chinaman in New York. Clyde goes to meet Yup Sing, sees Johnson, attempts' to follow him, falls into a basement, sprains his ankle and becomes unconscious. Clyde is found by Miss Clement. a missionary among the Chinese. He Is sick several days as a result of inhaling charcoal fumes. Evelyn tells Clyde of a peculiarly acting anesthetic which renders a person temporarily unconscious. Murphy is discovered to have mysterious relations with the Chinese. Miss Clement promises to get information about Cameron. Slump in Crystal Consolidated, of which Cameron is the head, is caused by a rumor of Cameron's Illness. Clyde finds Cameron on Fifth avenue In a dazed and emaciated condition and takes him° home. Cameron awakes from a long sleep and ■peaks In a strange tongue. Evelyn declares the man is not her uncle. Evelyn and Clyde call on Miss Clement for promised information and find that the Chinaman who was to give it has just been murdered. Miss Clement gives Clyde a note, asking him to read it after he leaves the mission and then destroy it. It tells of the abduction of a white man Chinese who shipped him back to China. The man is accused of the crime of “Sable Lorcha" jn which 100 Chinamen were killed. The appearance in New York ■of the man they supposed they had shipped to China throws consternation into the Chinese. The brougham in which Clyde and Evelyn are riding in held up by an armed man. .Clyde, is seized by Murphy and a fight ensuea Evelyn and Clyde are rescued by the police* and return home. They find Yup Sing and the Chinese consul awaiting them. Yup tells Clyde the story of the crime of the “Sable Lorcha.” in which 97 Chinamen were deliberately sent to their death by one Donald M Nish, whom they declare Is Cameron. They declare that M’Nlsh can be Identified by a tattoo mark on his arm. Clyde declares that Cameron has no such mark. The nurse is Called in and describes a tattoo mark on his patient’s arm. Clyde goes to investigate and finds the patient attempting to hide a letter. It is addressed to Donald M’Nlsh. The letter is from the man’s mother in Scotland and identifies the patient, as M’Nlsh. Confronted by the sole survivor of the ’Sable Lorcha”—who. it develops. Is Soy, a half-breed Chinaman, recognlz•ed by Clyde as Johnson, the fisherman— M’Nlsh shoots him and kills himself. * I , CHAPTER XXVl.—Continued. When he rejoined me in the library, halt an hour later, it was with the glad news that she had responded gratifylngly to treatment, and was sleeping calmly. After thanking him for his promptness and efficiency, I •aid: ."You do not remember me?” “Oh, yes, I do,” he returned, almost brusquely, fixing me with his gaze. “You are Mr. Clyde. Did you get any relief from the prescription I gave your I had not expected the question and was unprepared for ltr~ In venturing an evasive reply I stammered. “I don’t suppose you even had it filled,” he declared, with a grim smile that was at least partially reassuring. And I admitted that his surmise was accurate. Moreover I begged him to •it down. .... “I have a confession to make, Doctor,” I said, a little shamefacedly. “It is unnecessary, Mr. Clyde,” was his half-polite rejoinder, as he sank Into a chair before the fireplace. “I read the newspapers, and I have come to understand many things in the past few dayd." As 1 took a seat opposite to him, I said: “The newspapers have been misleading, I fear, Dr. Addison." "No," he contradicted, his tone softened. "On the contrary they have opened my eyes to a truth that was tong hidden; they have made a very contrite and, I must confess, a very unhappy man of me.” "Unhappy?” "More unhappy than you can conceive, Mr. Clyde. For years 1 have misjudged one of the best friends Heaven ever privileged a man to have." "But, my dear Doctor,” I began, "you were not at fault, altogether; you—" He raised a deprecatory hand. "No, please don’t,” he pleaded. "You cannot temper It. I should have taken his word, without question. I knew his love of truth—l probably more than any one else. What right had I to conclude then, because of certain apparently irreconcilable happenings, that his word was false?” "We are all fallible,” I said. '' "All but he," was his prompt reply. And then, leaning forward, with a •trained, eager look in those piercing •yes, his voice vibrant, he asked: "Is it true that he is very ill? That lie cannot be seen?” For a scruple I hesitated. "The newspapers have been misleading, I fear,” I said again, and I judge my expression of countenance ’ was a* cryptic as my words, for my vie-

itor’s look changed instantly to one of dire perplexity. “He is not 111?” he questioned. “You mean—” Doctor,” I admitted, “we haven’t the faintest notion just how he Is. He may be in excellent health or he may have ceased to exist.” t “Good God!” he exclaimed, and his face was as white as his linen. "Our best information is that he Is on a steamer—a tramp—bound for China, but we have no particulars, and worse still, no verification.” It was neither fair nor consistent to conceal longer from one so justly Interested the whole truth, and so, without reservation, I told Dr. Addison t\e story. ■ ‘ Before I had quite concluded, Miss Clement was announced, and when she was shown into the library, instead of permitting the physician to leave, as he made offer of doing, I presented him and Insisted upon his remaining. "I want you to tell Miss Clement about your patient, Doctor,” I said. “Miss Clement Is a very good friend of Miss Grayson’s.” Graciously he complied, making It quite clear that sedatives and sleep would undoubtedly effect a prompt recovery. “And now Miss Clement will tell us something,” I added. “She has had a patient, too, who died this morning, as you may have seen by the afternoon papers—the Eurasian who was shot by McNish.” Up to that moment I knew but little pf what Soy had divulged, for the missionary, in her two or three brief telephonic talks, had given us scarcely more than promises of important revelations when opportunity could be made for a meeting; and I was impatient for the fulfilment. She had chosen a seat at some little distance from us, but now, at my solicitation, she accepted a more comfortable chair, which 1 placed in confidential juxtaposition with our own. “It’s rather a long story,” she began, In her sweetly quiet voice. “And as it came to me piecemeal, I’m afraid It will be rather disconnected. You see this poor fellow suffered horribly at times and when he was not suffering he was under the Influence of opiates, so ordinarily I doubt that it would be safe to accept as fact a good deal said under such circumstances. It appears to me, however, that In his case, these very conditions only strengthen the probabilities; for his mind seemed to hold only the one theme, and his statements could hardly have been either spontaneous or studied inventions. On the other hand, they were rather a sort of involuntary recital of the particulars of a subject which had engrossed him for years to the exclusion of almost everything else.” Dr. Addison nodded his head, encouragingly. "I quite understand, Miss Clement,” he said. And I, too, assured her that her reasoning appeared to me logical. “It was significant,” she continued, "that so far as I could fix dates, he made no references at all to any happening prior to sixteen years ago. The tragedy of that time was the beginning of what I think I* may call his mania. Everything he told me had to do with it. It came at the beginning, at the apex, and at the end of every revelation.” "The tragedy of sixteen years ago?” inquired the physician. “The tragedy of what has been called ‘The/Sable Lorcha,’ ” I reminded him. “Oh, yes, of course.” “You know of that, then?” asked Miss Clement. And briefly I ran over what Yup Sing had told me. “John Soy, I understand, was the cook whom McNlsh imprisoned in the galley,” I added. “It seems he broke' 1 his way out just as the lorcha was sinking. McNlsh bad waited until he had gone to his bunk for his usual hop, and had chosen the hour he was sleeping to get away and scuttle the vessel. For five days Soy floated about on a bit of wreckage without food or drink, and was finally picked up by a proa and taken back to Macao at the mouth of the Canton river, where, after weeks of delirium, he told his story of the lorcha’s fate. From that day the search for McNish began. It seems that he had a partner, an Irishman, named Moran, who for a time was suspected of having been in the conspiracy; for, you/' must remember, it was thought then that the sinking of the lorcha had been planned from the first, the idea being that it was simply a scheme to get the passage money from the poor coolies, and then drown them.” / "Horrible!” ejaculated the physician. "But the Chinese are just,” the missionary continued. "They discovered that a certain United States cruiser that had been warned of the attempted smuggling, did, on that particular day, give chase to a lorcha, which' eventually disappeared In the fog. So the enmity against Moran subsided.

A C A. CO.

and, ultimately, this sanie Moran became the most openly bitter of all the avenging horde that for over a decade and a half scoured the four corners of the globe; fpr it seems that McNish had not only made off with His share of the receipts of their joint enterprise, but had left him with a ruining lot of debts to settle as well. There was something, too, I believe, about a Chinese woman whose loyalty to Moran, McNish undermined, but I confess that part of the story was not very clear to me. At all events Soy, the half-breed, and Moran, the Irishman, who appeals to have been a roving blade, a sort of soldier of fortune with some talent for painting, became * the prime movers in this relentless quest, in which they were backed by what is known as the Six Companies. All the tongs, nd matter how much at variance oh other points, were a unit in this instance, and unlimited money was always availaole to prosecute the search.” A footman, appearing at this, juncture with the inevitable tea paraphernalia, interrupted temporarily the current of Mliss Clement’s narrative. But our interest was such that we limited the cessation to the briefest possible period. Dr. Addison, whose professional engagements were being toppled over one after another, politely urged her to continue, directly her cup was in her hand. “Think, Miss Clement," he said, with an ingratiating smile, "of the rapt audience you have! I trust it is at once an inspiration and a compensation.” , "It surely is,” was the good lady’s prompt acknowledgment. “And, by the way, I must not forget to tell you how this man, McNlsh, actually had the temerity, to return to China a few years ago. He appeared to think either that his crime had been forgotten or that knowledge of it was limited to the Southern provinces, for in the early fall of 1903, under one of his many aliases, he arrived at Peking, by way of the—Trans-Siberian -Railway.’’ The doctor and I exchanged glances. It was odd how confirmation of the error he had already avowed should thus come about from the lips of one who knew nothing of his story of a shattered friendship. I “Oddly enough, Moran happened to be in the city at the time and every arrangement was made to capture the long-sought prey and convey him to Canton for some exquisite torture devised especially to fit his crime. In some way, however, the intended victim got wind of what was proposed, and came within an ace of escaping unscathed from under their very fingers. Indeed, he did escape in the end, but not before Moran had Very nearly put a finish to him by a knife thrust in his back.” ' K - Once more I exchanged glances with the physician, for scarcely half an hour before, I had told him of the scar under McNish’s left shoulder blade, received as I had been told, in Buffalo. “Moran fled from Peking after this encounter, not knowing whether his enemy were dead or alive, and for awhile, I believe, ‘laid very low,’ as they say. In spite of all the efforts of the combined Chinese organizations, McNish, warned now of his constant danger, eluded their search, but at length Soy himself succeeded in tracing him to Canada and thence to Buffalo. There Moran came, posthaste, and once more there was a street encounter. Moran was arrested, and McNish charged him with assault with intent to kill. The result was that Moran was convicted and sent to prison for a term of years; and once again the earjth seemed ito close over McNish.” The discrepancies between Miss Clement’s narrative and that of Yup Sing I did not regard as sufficiently vital to raise a question over, yet I must admit that I could hardly foresee a conclusion without a much graver antagonism of facts as I knew them. The missionary having paused to sip her tea, Dr. Addison asked permission to smoke a cigarette, which she readily granted. “On Moran’s release from prison,” Miss Clement continued, fortified by the fragrant Oolong, “he appears for the first time to have considered the advisability of adopting some sort of an incognito. Prior to this time he had, Soy told me, been, carefully clean shaven and close-cropped. Now he grew a beard and wore his hair long, and, in addition, he doctored it with henna until it became a fiery red. He also changed his name from Moran to Murphy, and instead of frequenting the busy marts of men, be retired to an Isolated country place on the Cos Cob driver and posed as an artist. He employed always a Chinese servant, and at least once a week, without fail he visited Chinatown, keeping always in touch with the powers there, which were still unrelenting In their efforts to trace McNlsh.” She came now to Murphy’s so-called chance meeting with Cameron on the Fourth of July, of which Cameron

himself had already told me. I would have saved, her thia recital, but it was new to Dr. Addison and so I allowed her to proceed. ’ v “It was plainly evident to Moran,” she pursued, "that McNlsh—or at least the gentleman he supposed was McNlsh—did not recognise him, and his delight at this discovery was unbounded; for It gave him opportunity, quite unexpectedly, to arrange all his plans for a most Ingenious campaign of torture. What that campaign consisted of, of course, you already know, Mr. Clyde, and I presume Dr. Addison does, too.” • “Yes,” I replied, “I have told the doctor.” “What you don't know, though,” she added, “is how It was managed.” “We have been told something about amyl pearls,” I suggested. ‘/Amyl pearls?" queried Dr. Addison, curiously. With as much clearness as possible I explained to him what I meant by using this admittedly inaccurate term. "Incredible? ” he exclaimed. "Can it be possible that there is such an anaesthetic as this, and we have never even heard of it before?” “There can be no doubt about its existence,” I answered. “I myself have experienced its effects, though I have never actually seen it put in operation.” But it was Miss Clement who was most convincing. “I have never seen either it or its effects. Doctor,” she said, "but I am willing to believe even more marvellous things than that where the Chinese are concerned. You must remember that as a race thfey are most jealous of their knowledge as well as their possessions. Just now, after all their many centuries of a civilization greater in some respects than our own, we are beginning to learn something of them and their ways, and I should not be at all surprised to discover that in chemistry, in medicine even, they have forgotten more than we know. Soy assured me that not only for days, but for weeks, he himself came and went about Mr. Cameron’s—or, ar he called it, McNish’s—country place without being either seen or heard, simply by using this ether of invisibility. It was he who delivered the three letters. It was he who cut the head from the portrait, and it was he who broke the mirror; and yet no one saw him on the grounds or in the house, and indeed there were very few who saw him in the vicinity. Again and again, he assured me, he could have taken his victim’s life but that he was intefit on inflicting’a punishment more protractedly horrible than mere sudden death.” “Who wrote the letters?” I asked. “Moran.” “I thought so. And Moran killed the Chinaman who worked for him.” "No; - there you are wrong, Mr. Clyde.” "Then who did?” “Soy himself. He learned of how that boy, unable to control his hatred of the man who had slain some one or more of his klnspeople, carried back the head that had been cut from the portrait, borrowed a rifle from Mr. Cameron’s own gamekeeper, and shot the canvas full of holes. It seemed to Soy, then, that in spite of all his and Moran’s careful preparation this would surely involve trouble, and that once more their quarry would slip through their fingers. And to prevent the possibility of any more unrestrained fervor on the boy’s part, Soy beat him to death." “1 know Soy, or Peter Johnson as he called himself, managed the kidnapping from the yacht,” I said, “but I shall never understand how it was done. Did he speak of that?” “Over and over again. It was he who learned of the intention to take the cruise. At first they thought they would have to change their plana and carry their eflemy off before he had a chance to take to his yacht. But Soy maintained that that would be too crude a method; whereas to let him think that he had escaped and was safe away, and then, at the very moment of his triumph, to snatch him from seeming security, would be the very refinement of cruelty the avenger so much desired. And so the properties were secured at some fabulous figure—l forgot just what they paid for that fast power boat—the scene was set, and the great act of the drama, with Soy still the star, was carried to a successful climax." “But,” I made question, "I don’t see how Soy could take such a risk. If It had been McNish instead of Cameron, he certainly would have recognized him, when he was brought aboard from the disabled dory."

Race Not Going Backward

Proof That the Men of Today Are at Least Taller In Stature Than Their Ancestors. -J Some time ago when It was wished to use some ancient suits of English armor for a pageant it was found that they were all too small for the use of the average man. Now comes, a similar story from Germany. Thb custodian of a castle near Innsbruck, a man slightly under the average height, says that he has tried on every suit of armor in the castle and that they are all too small for him. The custodian of the castle of Voduz, who is of still lesser stature, says the same thing of the armor under his care, and we are reminded of the low doors and short beds that are so distinguishing a feature of old Gothic houses. Is it possible that the human race is increasing in stature? >t would seem so. We can hardly account tor

"He thought of that, but you must remember that In all those sixteen years McNlsh had once seen Soy. > He thought hf had, perished with the rest when the Sable Lorcha went doyrn.’ And so Soy decided that in oilskins, apparently unconscious, in an open boat off the New England coast, there was not one chance In ten thousand that McNish would connect him with the cook he had left for dead In the South China sea.” "But McNlsh did recognize him as soon as he laid eyes on him in this house. I saw that myself, you know, Miss Clement. He recognized him and was terror stricken.” Miss Clement smiled tolerantly. She was armed at all points. “You did not know, I suppose, Mr. Clyde, that that was not their first meeting,” she explained. "Soy met McNish on' the night you found him. It wgs he who assaulted him, somewhere about Seventh, avenue and Fiftieth street, and would have killed him then had not the police arrived at the moment. The officers probably thought McNlsh was intoxicated and let him go, seeing that he could-stand, and so he staggered on to Fifth avenue; and there you discovered him.” “No, I did not know that,” I admitted, a little crestfallen. “What followed?” “You remember I told you that Chinatown was in a state of frenzy, the next day? You can understand now, why. Soy, of course, reported that McNish had escaped from the steamer —” » “What steamer?” I cried, suddenly realizing that the one really vital pTece of information we should have obtained, had all this while been delayed. “What steamer? Did jie give you the name of It?” “In just a moment, Mr. Clyde,", she said, with a smile that I confess exasperated me. \ “Pardon me,” I returned, insistently, “but you do not realize, I fear, what minutes' even may mean in this matter.” “No,” still very calm, "I really don’t. The steamer has been at sea now twenty-five days. It is bound for Hong Kong. If there was a chance of overtaking it, I— ’’ "There’s every chance of overtaking it,” I interrupted once again. "Tomorrow, or next day, or even today, it may put into Rio. We must telegraph the United States Consulate at every possible port.” * And then, for the first time, apparently, Miss Clement seemed to appreciate there was a real urgency. “The steamer is the Glamorganshire,” she said, quickly: “A freighter; a tramp, I suppose; bound for Hong Kong. She sailed on Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of last month, and Mr. Cameron was put aboard, halfdrugged, as one of the crew." ' CHAPTER XXVII. The Tortoise and the Hare. Although Miss Clement’s interesting chapter of disclosures was by A, no means ended with the name of the steamer and its date of sailing, It there came, so far as I was concerned, at least, to an abrupt intermission. For, as though the delay and inaction of the past month but served to swell the flood of my eager energy, the tide, so long checked but now set free, careering like an unleashed spring freshet, overrode all barriers. With scant apology, I sprang to the telephone, and if Miss Clement continued her conversation with Dr. Addison, 1 was deaf to what she said. /_. What I sought, first of all, was con roboratlon. Did a steamship, named the Glamorganshire, sail for Hong Kong on October 28th? In less than five minutes, the facts were mine. Such a steamer had sailed for the east on that date. Her agents were Bartlett Brothers. Their offices were in the Produce Exchange Building. Another minute, and Bartlett Brothers were on the wire. No, the Glamor ganshire did not take the South American route. Her course was through the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal. She carried no passengers. She wai British. She was very slow. She had called at the Azores and then at Gibraltar, where she had been delayed in coaling. Yes, she would make several Mediterranean ports. If all went well, she would reach Port Said about December 6th. Certainly not before that. Probably a day or so later. I dare say it was exceptional that 1 secured all this Information with sc little trouble, and without giving an; hint as to why I desired It, but merely on the statement that I was Mr. Clyde* of The Week. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

this on the ground of athletics, seeini that the old knightly pirates of th< days of chivalry were athletic enough Physical vigor was their stock 1b trade. It is said that very few men nowadays can draw the old long bows ol the English archers, the bows that were capable of sending an arrow through a steel breastplate. But sc far as stature is concerned we seem to have the better of our buccaneer Ing ancestors.

Turn About Is Fair Play.

Farmer Beetroot (back from the metropolis)—-I had a bully time, I tell you. Si Perkins—Didn’t thfi waiters* strike make trouble at meal times? Farmer Beetroot—Not for me; I put up With one o' my summer boardera— Judge.

WON BY WOMAN’S WIT

CUNNING DECIDES CONTEST FOR) HAND OF BEAUTY. ; Father Chose Among Many Suitors forf His Daughter, but the Girl Herself Took Hand In Filial Selection. There was, once upon a time, a Senegal tailor, who had a daughter as dazzling as the sun. All the youths in the neighborhood were In love with her beauty, and two of them went to her and asked for her hand. The girl, like a well-trained daughter, made them no answer, but called her father* who listened to them and said: ’lt is late; go home, and come again tomorrow. I will tell you then ■which, of you shall have my daughter.” - At daybreak the next morning the young men were at his door. “Here we are,” they cried; "remember what you promised us yesterday.”' "Walt,” said the tailor; “I must go out and buy a piece of cloth; when I return you will hear what I expect you to do.” He soon returned, and calling his daughter said to the young men: - "My sons, there are two of you, and; I have but one daughter. I cannot give her to both of you and must refflse one. You see this piece of cloth? I will cut from it two pairs of breeches exactly alike; each of you shall make one of/them, and the one that finishes; first shall be my son-in-law.” Each of the rivals took his task and! prepared to set to work under the tailor’s eyes. The latter said to his daughter: "Here is thread; you can, thread the needles for the workmen.” The girl obeyed; she took the spool and sat down by the youths. But the pretty witch was full of cunning; h’er father did not know which one she loved, neither did the young men, but, for her part, she knew very well. The tailor went out, the girl threaded the needles, and her suitors set to work. But to the one she loved she gave short needlefuls, while she gave long needlefuls to his rival. Doth sewed zealously; at eleven o’clock the work was scarcely half done, but at three in the afternoon the young man with the short needlefuls had finished his task, while the other was ‘far behind. When the tailor returned the victor carried in the finished breeches. His rival was still sewing. "My children,” said the father, 9T did not wish to show any partiality between you, for which reason I divided the cloth into two equal parts and gave each a fair chance. Are you satisfied?” “Perfectly," answered they. "We understood your meaning and accepted the trial; what is to be will be!" But the tailor had Masoned to himself: “He who finishes his task first will be the better workman, and consequently the better fitted to support his household.” It did not occur to him that his daughter might outwit him by giving the longer needlefuls to the one she did not wish to win. Wqman’s wit decided the contest, and the girl chose her husband herself. —Alice Bunner’s "Twice-Told Fairy Tales," in Atlanta Journal.

Inference Obvious.

Lord Rossmore, author of “Things I Can Tell,” used sometimes to “make a night of It” with Jimmy Davis, and on one occasion slept at Davis’ house after a somewhat late carousal. Ringing his bell in the morning, it was answered by William, the butler, and the following colloquy ensued: " ‘Good morning, William,’ I said briskly. ‘Good morning, my lord.’ ‘Quite early, isn’t it?’ ‘Well —not so early, my lord.’ ‘H’m, I thought it was. Anyhow/ I’ll get up and hpve some breakfast. I suppose nobody’s down yet?’ 'Oh, yes, my lord, your brother and Lord Mandeville have breakfasted some time a£o.’ ‘Bother them. I thought I’d be first. What did they bave, William?’ ‘Smoked ’addock, my lord.’ ‘Did they?’ I cried. ‘What & drunkard's breakfast! What do you think I had better have, William?’ He eyed me coldly, but not unkindly, and then said with marked meaning. ‘Smoked ’addock, my lord.”’

A Love Story.

Prof. Henri Bergson, at a dinner In New York, talked of love with that gay and sparkling philosophy which has made him famous in Europe. “Love, in the sense of passion,’* he said, “love does not live long, a little fable above love which has a deal of truth in it. “Love, so the fable runs, bent over a beautiful maiden, when Cynicism sneered and said: “‘Oh, yes, her eyes are stars, and her mguth is a rose, but twenty years hence she will be fat and'round-back-ed, with a double chin, just like her mother. You, though—ha, ha, ha!you, though, will be blind eta?* " 'No,’ Love answered,? calmly. ’I simply shan’t be there to see.* **

Little Things as an Index.

“Here,’’ said an observer, ‘was a machine upon which appeared the name plate of the manufacturer; a small and not essential feature, bnt this plate had been set on true, and then the screws by which it was held In place had all been turned up until the slots in their heads all showed In precisely the same position, alike, uniform. “Whoever put this plate on made a nice, finished job of it; and I should be inclined to think that a shop that had such pride in even the minor details of its work, would do good wort; throughout** <