Ligonier Banner., Volume 34, Number 31, Ligonier, Noble County, 2 November 1899 — Page 3

% Dy - o ':,‘ (w/([n A VIAGD(S P \ SavECY | [/ \\ Tt ( 2 A W\ 9. LEVETT YEsTS. : [Copyright, 1895, By D. Appleton & Co. All rights reserved.] = / CHAPTER XXIV.—CONTINUED. I borrowed an arquebus from one of my men, and the arrangement was that we were to charge out after a volley, the first shot of which I was to fire. All’being now ready, it was only necessary for us to wait. I would merely add that in order to prevent discovery by the neighing of the horses, we had muzzled ours as far as-possible. There was now a dead silence, that was only broken by the rustle of the leaves overhead, an occasional crack amongst the dry boughs as a squirrel moved against them, or the uneasy movement of a horse, which caused a clink of a chain-bit, and a straining sound made by the leathers of the saddlery, that was not in reality so loud as it seemed; but caused Jacopo and Bande Nere to scowl fiercely at the unfortunate rider, a scowl which was only equaled by their stolidly impassive faces, when their own beasts sinned. We had not long to wait; presently we heard voices shouting, the clatter of horses trotting, a rapid reining in at the ascent, and a muinber of followers and lackeys, - some mountéd on horses, others on mules, with led mules beside them, came past, and went en, heedless of the eager faces watching them through the trees. One or two of our horses became so uneasy that I was afraid of immediate discovery, but so occupied were the knaves in babbling together, all at once, that what with this, and the thwaecking of their animals, and in some cases the efforts to remain on, we remained unnoticed. Then there was a short interval, and the suspense vras strained to breaking point. In a while we heard the firm beat of a war horse’s hoof, and our quarry came in view. lirst came Monsignore Bozardo, a tall, thin man, wrapped in a purple cloak, with a fur cap on his head. He rode a strong ambling mule, and by his side Was the commander of the escort. Immediately behind were four troopers, -then the mules with the ducats, behind these again six other lances, whilst the rear was brought up by half-a-dozen lackeys, without a sword 2amongst them. But what struck me almost dumb with surprise was that the leader of the escort was none other than D’Entrangues himself. There could be no mistake, his visor was up, and I saw the sallow face, the long red mustache, and almost caught the cold glint of his eruel eve. At last! I raised my arquebus and covered him. At last! But a touch of my finger and the man was dead. I could not miss, my heart was mad within me, but my wrist was firm as steel. In another moment he would be dead, dead, and my revenge accomplished. It was already in my hand. I looked aside for J]. second at the line of breathless faces [ivatching me, then back again to the muzzle of my weapon. D’En-

trangues. was now. not 20 yards away. 1 could scarcely breathe as I pointed the arquebus at his heart. I had already begun to press the trigger, when something seemed to come across my mind like lightning. I saw 1 a moment that lonely room in the Albizzl palace, where I had kneeled to my God and sworn to put aside my vengence. The weapon shook in my grasp. “Fire, signore,” whispered Jacopo-hoarsely.

With an effort I jerked the muzzle in the air, and pulled the trigger, The report was followed by four others, and two of the troopers fell. The next moment we were on them with a shout, and there was a clash of steel, as fierce blows were struck and received, now and again a short angry oath, and sometimes a cry of gain. I did not want to take life, but atrooper came at me, so I bad to run him through the heart, and the man fell forward under Castor’s hoofs, with a yell I shall never forget. The next instant D’Entrangues and I crossed blades, and whether he recognized me or not I donot know, but he fought with a skill and fiercefness I have never seen equaled. At last I lost my temper, and cut savagely at him. He parried on the forte of his blade, but so furious was the stroke that it broke the weapon in his hand, and almost unhorsed him. Reining back skillfully he avoided another cut I made at him, and drawing a wheel fock pistol from his holster, fired it straight at me. At the flash, some one dashed between us. I heard a scream which froze the blood in me, and a body lurched forward and fell to my side, whilst a riderless horse plunged through the press, and’ galloped away. I saw the light of the golden head as it fell, and forgetting everything, forgetting D’Entrangues, forgetting all but the fact that a dreadful deed was done, I sprang down from Castor, and raised St. Armande in my arms. As I'did this a hoarse yell from my men told me the day was won; but I had no ears for this, no eyes for anything, except the slight figure, which lay in my arms gasping out its life.

v“Congrfituiati?)ns, signore, we have taken the lot,” and Jacopo, bleeding and dusty, rode up beside me. '

“At too great a price,” I groaned; “help me to carry—" I could say nomore. =~ “Here, two of you secure those mules— Pande Nere, see to the wounded—Queen of Heaven—the chevalier—" and Jacopo, giving his sharp orders, sprang down beside me, and together we bore our unconscious burden under the shadow of the oaks. A dark figure stepped te our side, and - kneeling down supported the lifeless head on his arm, whilst hot tears fell from his eyes, as hé prayed over her. It wastheabbe:

~ “How did this happen?” I asked, “did T not say you were not to move?”’

_ “It was done at once,” he answered, “I could not prevent it—alas! Howcanl carry this tale back to St. Armande ?”’

“Water, excellency.” . i Jacopo had brought some clear water in his helmet. I thanked him with a look, and he stepped back, leaving us three together, itwo who were living, and one who was going away. . =

I bathed the forehead and drawn lips, from which flowed a thin stream of blood, and as I did so her eyes opened, but the film of death was on them. “Di Savelli—Ugo—,” and she was gone. Gone like a flash, flung swiftly and fast into eternity, struck down, perhaps unwittingly, by the arm which should have been a shield to her. I have often wondered if D’Entrangues ever knew who fell to- his pistol shot. If he did, God pity him! Inthe one glimpse I caught of his white face, as he swung round and rode off, I thought I saw a look of horror. But everything went so quickly, that then-I had no time to think, and now I can recall but the end. To her dead lips Carillon pressed his crucifix, into her dead ears he mumbled prayers. 1 knelt tearless, and prayerless, beside him, ‘thinking only of the great love that had laid down a life. - One by one my men stole up, and stood in a half circle, leaning on the cross-handles of their swords, over which the grim, bearded faces looked down on us in pity. Suddenly Carillon raised his crucifix aloft. “My Father,” he cried, “receive her soul!” And some one said softly: : “Amen!”’ e CHAPTER XXV. - THE VENGEANCE OF CORTE. ¢ We buried our dead; and madame slept beneath thie ilex, in the courtyard at the castle, below the north wall. Over her nameless grave we raised a rude cross, and after it was done, Carillon bade me farewell. He was going, he said, to bear the story o 8. Armande, and when he reached it, 1 wit

complete, and the Englishman, giving ine my qujttance, held out his hand, saying bluntly: *“I wronged you, Di Savelli; but I know now. We all know, for Bayard has told us.” I hesitated. Many memories came to me, and therc was bitter resentment in my soul. They had all been too reddy to believe. They had flung me forth as a thing too vile to touch, and now—it was an easy matter to hold out a hand, to say: “I am sorry,” to think that a civil word would heal a hideous wound. Thekind world was going to forgive me, because it had wronged me. Such as it was, however, it was the world, and things had made me a little humble. After all, if the positions were reversed; if I stood in Hawkwood’s place, and he in mine, how should I have acted? I would not like to say. “Come,” said Hawkwood, “let the past be covered. Come back—we want you.” “As you will,” and I took his grasp; “I will comeé back in a little time. Till then adieu!” “Good-by!” and we parted. " Five minutes later, I was spurring to Rome, my following at my heels. It was,in a manner, putting my neck on the block, for Bozardo was probably making his way thither with all speed, and doubtless D'Entrangues as well. Recognition was almost certain; but risk or no risk, I was bound to see the cardinal, and tell him my task was done. Little did I think, however, as Costor bore me, with his long, easy gallop, across the oak forests of the Nera, that the face of affairs in Rome had been changed in'an hour, and that, had I so wished, I might have, in safety, proclaimed what I had done from the very house tops. As we came nearer the city, it was evident that there wag some great commotion within, for, fram every quarter pillars of dim smoke rose up in spiral columns, and then spreading out like a fan hung sullenly in the yellow of the sunset.- It was clear that houses were burning, and swords were out. We soon began to meet parties of fugitives, hurrying from the city, and making across country in all directions. They avoided us like the plague, and the mere glint of our arms was sufficient to make them scatter to right and left, leaving such property as they could not bear with them to the tender mercies of the roadside. Some of my men were eager to ride after the runaways, and question them; but I forbade this, knowing we should hear soon enough, and that if there were danger, it would be best to hold together.

“Per Racco!” and Jacopo, riding up beside me, pointed to a black cloud, which slowly rose and settled above the vincyards of the Pincian hill, “we had best go with a leaden boot, excellency. There is a devil's carnival in Rome, or I am foresworn.” At this juncture, we turned an abrupt correr of the road, coming upon a crowd of fugitives, who seemed to be running forwards, caring little where they went, so that they put a distance between them and ilome. Amongst the throng was a figure I lecognized; and in a mean habit, mounted on a mule, which was seized with an obstinate fit, and refused to budge, although soundly thwacked, I saw the cardinal of Strizonia. Bidding Jacopo keep the men together, I rode up to him, and asked: “Can I render your eminence any aid ?”’ His round eyes, starting out of his head like a runaway hare’s, glanced at me 1n fear,

- % <4 v LM W :g"f':-, ',l «?: LV g ./ {\ \ B Wi (N & e Yl e, , i O b U S R fai" s 5 <R ¥ PR TR T\ AN UG SO : :gf :——%’f—\: '}‘ .\t ‘ ‘l{ & g # (=~ _‘-; . B\ NG 4 eT Y N A s Nb\ N\o¥ A R ALY .él @~ fiv.:,\\ . A DN\ S TN T 7 ) e | And she was gone. . i and the stick he bore dropped from his hand, no doubt much to the satisfaction of the mule. At first he was unable to speak, for my words seemed to fill the man with terror, and I had to repeat the question, before he stammered out: ’ “You are mistaken, sir; I am no eminence, but a poor brother of Mount Carmel, on my way to Foligno, out of this hell behind me,” and he glanced over his shoulder towards Rome. “I see,” I answered with a smile, ‘“but if the poor brother of Mount Carmel will look more closely at me, he will see a friend. In short, your eminence, lam Di Savelli.” ¢ * “Corpo di Bacco! I mean our Lady be thanked. And so it is you, cavaliere! Take my advice, and turn your horse’s head to Foligno. On beast!” and he kicked at the mulé, which moved not an inch. “I am for Rome, your eminence; but what has happened?”’ “Oh, that I had a horse!” he groaned. “What has happened? Everything has happened. Alexander is dead or dying. Cesare dead, they say, and burning in hades by this. Orsini and Colonna at the old game of hammer and tongs—"* “And the cardinal—D’Amboise?”’

“Safe enough, I believe, as the Orsini hold thg_Borgo, and have declared for France.”

“Trust me, your reverence, you will be safer in Rome than out of it. The whole country will rise at the news, and the habit of Mount Carmel will not save the cardinal cf Strigonia. Turn back with me, and I will escort you to the Palazzo Corneto.”

' To make a short story, D’Este agreed after a little persuasion, and the mule was kind cnough to amble back very willingly to Rome. We placed his eminence in the centerof our troops, and went onwards, entering the city by the Porta Pinciana, riding along leisurely in the direction of S. Trinita di Monti, and thence straight on towards the Ripetta.. It was a work of no little danger to make this last passage, for everywhere bands of plunderers were engaged in gutting the houses, many of which were in flames, and we continually came across dead bodies, or passed houses from which we heard ghrieks of agony. We could help no one. It was all we could do to keep our own heads on our shoulders; but by dint of shouling, ‘A Colonna!” with the Colenna, and “Orsini! Orsini!” with their rivals, and sometimes hitting a shrewd blow or two, we crossed the Ripetta, and in a few minutes were safe inzthe Palazzo Corneto.

Here we were received by Le Clere, who comforted the trembling Strigonia, with the assurance that an excellent supper awaited him, informing me, almost in the same breath, that D’Amboise was in the vatican. I lost no time in repairing thither, which I did on foot, aceompanied by Jacopo alone, and made my way without fet or hindrance to the Torre Borgia. Here everything was in the wildest confusion, and the Spanish soldiers of the pope were plundering right and left. I stumbled across De Leyva, whn, with a few men at his back, was trying {0 maintain order. He gladly accepted the offer of my sword, and we did what we could to prevent the wholesale robbery from going on. In a brief interval of rest, I asked: “Do you know where D’ Amboise 18?”" *

“In the Sistine Lha'p'elj with half-a-dozen others; De Briconnet guards the entrance.” “And Alexander?”’

“Dead or dying—l do not even know where is is; Don Michele has seized as much as he can, and, carrying Cesare on a litter has escaped to Ostia.” . “Then Casare is not dead—" “No. Cross of St. James! gee that?” and he pointed to a reeling drunken erowd, full with wine and plunder, who passed by us ‘with yells, into the great reception-rooms. . Followed by the few men who remained ‘steady, De Leyva dashed after them, and with Jacopo at my heels, I made for the Sistine chapel. I reached the Scala Kegia;

and although I knew the Sistine chapel was but a few feet distart, yet, owing to the darkness that prevailed, I missed the way, #nd Jacopo was of course unable to help me. Groping onwards we came to a small door, and pushing it, found it to open easily. It led into a narrow, vaulted passage, where the darkness was as if a velvet curtain of black hung before us. “I do not like the look of this, excellency,” said Jacopo, as we halted in front of the door.

“Keep a drawn sword,”” 1 answered, “and follow me.”

We could only go in single file, and picked our way with the greatest care, our feet ringing on the stone floor. Except for this, the silemce was Intense, and we could hear no sound of the deviltry outside. The passage continued, until we almost began to think it had no end, but at last the darkness gave way to a semigloom, and a faint bar of light gleamed ahead of us. At this we increased our pace, finding a sharp corner, a l.ttle be#ond which rose a winding flight of stairs; ending before a hali-open door, through which the dim light came. I put my footon the first of the steps, and was about to ascend, when we were startled by hearing a moan of mortal agony, followed by a laugh, so wild and shrill, so exultant, and yet so full of malice, that it chilled us to the bone. It pealed through the door, and echoed down the passage behind us, until the horrid cadence became fainter and fainter, finally dying away into the black darkness. “God save us!” exclaimed Jacopo, “it is a fiend laughing its way to hell.” He went on, with chattering teeth, to adjure me to go no further; but crossing myself, I bade him be silent, and stepped forwards. Since that moan of agony, and terrible laugh of triumph, there was no sound, and I could almost hear my heart beating, as I reached the door. Jacopo had nerved himself to follow me, and stood pale and trembling at my shoulder, his sword quiveringin his shaking hand. I was mysclf not free from fear, for no man. may combat with spirits, but after a moment’s hesitation; I looked cautiously in. I saw before me a room of great size, dimly lighted by two tall candles, burning on each side of a massive bed‘stead, on which lay a man bound, and writhing in the throes‘of death. The light, though faint around the room, fell full on the face ol the man, and horribly as the features were changed, distorted as they were, 1 saw they were those of Alexander, and that he was in his last agony, alone and friendless in his splendid palace. Yet not alone, there was another figure in the room. As I looked, it stepped out of the gloom of the rich curtains at the window, and standing over the bed, laughed again, that terrible laugh of devilish joy. At the sound, the dying man moaned - through his black, foam-clothed lips, and Corte, for it was he, bent over the body and - mocked him. , :

“Roderigo Borgia, Vicar of Christ, hell vawns for you; but a few moments, Borgia, but a few moments of life; think you, that vou suffer now? There is more coming—things 1 even cannot dream of.” In the face of Alexander came so awful a look of entreaty that I could bear it no longer. 1 stepped mmto the room, and putting my hand on Corte’s shoulder, said: “Come, let him die in peace.” He turned on me with a snarl, but recognizing me, laughed again. “Ha! ha! Let him die in peace. Why, man, you saw her die, and can say this? Butheis going too. It isa week since his doetor, Matthew Corte, bled him for an ague, and touched him with a little knife, just a little pin prick. He began to die then; but hell is not yet hot enough for him. He dies in too much peace. Why, my dog died in more agony! But he has felt something. See those torn curtains! - See this disordered room! He tore those curtains in his madness. He bit at the wood of the chairs, he howled like a dog at the moon, and they tied him here, and left him. I alone watch. I will let him die in peace. Ha! ha!- Itis good. 1 do not want him to die yet. I give him food, and he lives. Ina little while perhaps he will die. But in peace! ha! ha! I could almost die with laughter, when I hear that. It 1s too good! Ha! ha!” I saw it was hopeless to do anything with Corte, and the pope was beyond repair. I might have cut down the madman, but it would have served no purpose. For a moment I thought I would pass my sword through the Borgia, and iree him from pain. It would have been a mercy, but I luckily had the sense to restrain myself. Again, Alexander deserved his fate, and a few minutes more or less would make no difference. So I left the wretch to die the death of a dog, that befitted his life, and turning on my heel, went back through the passage. - Jacopo heaved a sigh of relief as we came out, and I felt a different man as I ran down the steps of the Scala Regia.. ‘Here I met with De Leyva again, and told him what 1 had seen. ’

“The Camerlengo has just gone to him,” he answered, referring to the pope, “and you have missed D’Amboise. He has returned to the Palazzo Corneto. I can do nothing here, and am going myself. Do you walk or ride? I have no horse.”

“Walk,” I answered, and the Spaniard linked his arm in mine, as, followed by Jacopo, we took our way back to the cardinal’s house. ' :

On reaching there I sought D’Amboise at once.” -He had heard of my arrival, and was awaitingme. Afterabriefgreeting, ] told him his business was done; and handed him the quittance I had received from Hawkwood. He was mightily pleased, as may be imagined. I felt it my duty to inform him of the death of St. Armande, telling him how it oceurred, without in any way disclosing my knowledge of the secret. He was much affected.

“It is a sad business,” he said, “but we have other things to think of now. Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!” And to this day I am unaware if he knew or not. 4

But the night was not yet over, and late as 1t was, there were yet things to be done. About midnight we heard that Alexander was dead, and a few minutes later Gentil’ Orsini hurried to the cardinal. They held a hasty council, and De Briconnet and I were | summoned. News had come that Cesare had not yet left Ostia, that ‘he was too ill to travel, and D’Amboise and Orsini resoived on a bold stroke. It was nothing less than the captfire of Borgia. Orsini ofiered to lend 200 lancés for the purpose, but a leader was wanted. He could not go himself, as his arch enemy, Fabrizio Colonna, held all Rome on the left bank of the Tiber, and was in sufficient force to make a dash for the Borgo at any moment. The short of it was, that at the cardinal’s recommendation, I received the command, and about two in the morning set out for Ostia. If the ships Cesare had hired had arrived the matter was ended, and we could do nothing; but if not, there was every chance of his surrendering without a blow, as although he had about 500 men with him, they were not to be relied on, except the half-dozen cut-throats who formed his personal guard, and who might. be trusted to fight to the last. The luck which had followed me so far favéred me again, -and pressing on as fast as our horses could bear us, we came up with the fugitives in the carly morning. Only one ship, too small to hold all, had come, and they were crowded cn the banks of the Tiber, making every effort to embark. The river shore was strewn ‘with the enormous quafitity of baggage they had with them, and a scene of the utmost confusion took place on our arrival. Ihe ship was drawing up to the quay, and we could see the litter of the Borgia, surrounded by the few men who meant to fight, The affair was over in five minutes, and Cesare was my prisoner. Seeing how matters gtood, the master of the ship anchored in mid-stream, heedless of the yells and execrations of the fo'lowers of the Borgia, who were not spared Ly my men. Indeed, 1 had %{eat diffienlty in keeping Cesare from harm. e was in -{;x’utb v:g ill, but was able to ‘gasp out as eyiie!d ged: o ga%flgtto’ e& ii:‘my fat:be} | bs;_l‘ : Dg

THE SCHOOL BOARD'S ILLS g

. %P A AT =2 I think it’s about time .e U PA 7 ° Z P They begin to doctor these ?/4 / /"/ ? ’; Blamed school boards for the simples. NN / Z Z I'll swan to gracious it s \ 'z z Z Just seems to me our schools ! A\ & “h Is bein’ run these days by 3 a _A lot 0’ fool numskulls. They ain’t satisfied to leave well ; . Enough alone, but they’ve got to ' Experiment and tinker an’ try this . Q’B‘: 2 An’ try that, till it's no wonder \x .d,' The children nowadays get their \,(~, ——— Heads filled up with the derndest; . /A\‘ = Lot of rubbish you ever heard of: : / TN R When I wuz a boy I went to school oy ; Three months every year, . : 4 : l/\ An’ I confined my operations to . ; The three R's—readin’, ’'ritin’ and ‘’rithe / ' f metic. i . '~ That’s all I wanted, an’ that’s ‘ . All I needed. I got them o// IPI Well set into my head, an’ ' Je, /\ Then I quit an’ started out to g Yoo emy /‘\\[/ Make my own livin’ at an age N\ ! S e N When most boys these times is ; - \———-—- et (\ Boardin’ at home an’ lettin’ their S 0 A ‘//’ \ Pa an’ ma buy their cloze. , ' \ ‘ lf ¢ I'm just about as well off to-day’ 2‘\_‘ As some of 'em that went to college An’ got their heads full of Them dog-goned ‘ologies.’ i / ‘~'o \ s ¢ I can skin a man at a trade i \/~ ( ; \\ Just about as quick as if I'd = ‘ : Teok Latin an’ Greek year in an’ i {[t / : / 42 Year out ever since I was knee- ; High to a duck, An’ don’t you think no different. : When I wuz a boy we didn’t Have no frills on our schoolin’. ‘We give the young uns what they needed. When a boy got so he could ’ Read the New York Weekly Trybune an’ ) : Cipher an’ write a fair hand ! He graduated mighty quick an’ Started in to earn his board an’ keepx 3 I may say that I account for my 3 i ’ Success in life an’ my all-round ; % . Ability to get the long end of a trade : Y o On the grounds, by ginger, that when T EY : I wuz young I didn’t learn a : : b Lot of hifalutin’ tomfoolery. -"'“““‘/\_’ It does seem to me the schools — \& These days is run by a pack of 2 / Yy Sap-heads. F’rinstance— ) i : 7 -~ ) . As soon as young uns are big enough . To waddle they set ’em to work In what they call a kindergarten, : ] \\ Buildin’ block houses an’ drawin’ ey { I\\ -\ Pickchers an’ so on—the derndest ’ - Mess of tommy-rot you could imagine. : / Then, when they’re a little older, . ( v \ They start ’em into readin’ before 2 N \ They even learn ’em their A B Cs. . e "k. If that ain't a fact I'll eat my hat. N / ) Now, I claim, as a practical man, . 4 That the only way to breakina < Child to readin’ is just to learn ’em - \\ The alphabet, then the a-b-abs 2 " An’ the short words, an’ then after : & g That let ’em tackle the short ~ . / Sentences, graduley workin’ up to ! | ~ Ossian’s Address to the Sun. x / That’s ‘what I done. i The I.ord Harry only knows what They don’t have the children Do these days, though. I says to my sister’s little girl, Millie, The other day, I says to her: ‘What 5 ) Are you takin’ at school now, Millie?’ An' she said she was takin’— \ Well, I can’t begin to tell you, Only I remember two, Spanish an’ Physiology. I says: ‘For the land’s Sake, what does a girl no bigger'n a bag o’ salt Want to learn to jabber : \I/] : That stuff for? Ain’t United States good \’Q: 7 enough < \,—'- (fi For you? I says.- ‘What’s the use of It % » wastin’ : ~ / /i"’ Your time learnin’ to talk that?' I says. / ) ‘Furthermore, I don’t like the Spanish, 4 'Q‘ \ N An’ wouldn’t care to talk to ’em. ‘: j/ An’ as far as . > , “ The other thing wuz concerned, if I = I Had a daughter I wouldn’t want her \]\, To be studyin’ about livers an’ lights An’ all such entraijls, becuz them 2 / Things don’t concern girls. It’s all : -~ / - Right for a doctor to know about _ \ In’ards an’ what they’re for, but S e 7 Ay A girl had a dog-goned sight better | : : : Liearn how to keep house an’ cook, So’t when she gets married she \ ’ Can help her husband save money, But what I started out to say g Wuz this—l see by the papers g That the teachers ain’t allowed to : _— ’((7” Punish the scholars any more. V/ They made 'em stop usin’ the gad /~' / N Some time ago, an’ now they go —— et So far as to say that the children ' I { Must learn self-gover’ment! : & What do you think of that? i i : Self-govern’ment! In other words, . g Let the children be their own bosses. ‘ ; I'd like to know what kind of an i Old granny got up that rule. = I know, an’ you know, that there’s : Some boys that need a good thrashin’ Now an’ then, just the same as me An’ you need our meals. It seems to regulate an’ tone the i System for ’em. ‘Spare the rod An’ spoil the child.” They never : Spared it on me. I used to'get . Vl fet fik It laid across my back regular e With a hickory derned near big \ Enough for a fence post. I used to o e L// Have welts up an’ down my legs . (\ \_L\\ An’ be black an’ blue most o’ the tirae. T~~~ After I got it at school I"d' go home : An’ the old man’d do it all over again. 3 \ There’s nothin’ like a good larrupin’ LN ‘ * Two or three times a week to \ ‘ : - Toughen up a boy an’ sort o’ keep A\ The orneriness dusted out o' him, b / I got so I used to expect it, : 2 An’ if T went a whole week . T \ Without gettin’ my jacket tanned oA I wuz sort o’ restless, a good ‘ L_". o Deal like a horse that feels —— \§ T His oats'an’ wants to get out of T i N e His box stall an’ cavort around >‘ \ p Through the lot for awhile. \\ The teacher seemed to know what b s - I needed whenever I'd begin to _/-\-—"' / Act a little cagey, so he used to \ = Go for me about once a week / i s Whether he had any good excuse or not. X ,/ ~ 9 He just licked me on general - W g Principles, knowin’ mighty well that, = : Even if he couldn’t ketch me in any - Deviltry, it was only fair to conclude That I'd been up to somethin’ that He didn’t know anything about; S ’ An’ I'm free to say he didn’t very - Often get in a lick amiss. > e : There wuzn’t any woman could teach £ » That school. It took a full hand. . A man didn’t have to know very much, But if he wuzn’t a good wras’ler An’ if he couldn’t choke the wind out of : . A great big hulk weighin’ about one-eighty . An’ then get him down into a corner : An’ baste him till he hollered: ‘Enough’— : : Well, he didn’t have no call to : : “ Try to teach the young idee how v 2 To shoot around in them parts. m : We didn’t try any self-gover'ment > %& Experiments, I can tell you that. : /‘!\(- The first day o’ school the teacher s Licked the biggest boy or got - -/ . Licked, an’ after that we either .{7 \ :)7 - / Knew who wuz boss or else X \fi\‘ : School let out till the board g ; Could hunt up a heavier man ; M . For a teacher. ! . : \ fi; : An’ now, by thunder, if a teacher lays \ 2 = A finger on a boy for some piece of \/\ f \ Cussedness they get the law on him; AN P Tl / The school board fires him an’ : /\ 5 rE Everybody says he’s a brute, : : What are we comin’ to? g / : Do you think I'd be the man -~ ; 1 am to-day if I hadn’t got some ‘ ’ \\ %eonsse‘ xgo,\;mded into me when I wuz young? i ——— It's a mighty good thing I ain’t on , / 4 - . The school board. ; . o ".> 'There'dbea cha%e o’ teachers :b__!___-__ All around next Monday. . N Sy . ' I'd put in some apie-bodied men, > | b B g, | An’ before Monday 'mght there’'s many v s {// A poor neglected child right in this , M ‘ : ‘IY) ~ Town that'd be settin’ sideways.” LgEE . - L : -Ghicae‘é.‘,’Dail}t fßecord, = i

Getting Under Way. “How is ych all comin’ on wif yoh military projections?” “Oh,” answered Mr. Erastus Pinkley, “I’s comin’ 'long. I hasn’ got my comp'ny of sojers organized yit, but I has foh yaller dogs an’ some yuthuh animals wot’ll beat de world foh mascots.” ~~Washington Star. Can Afford to Wait. ; Queen Wilhelmina has no fear that the. supply of eligible young men will rur out if she takes a nation to wait.

An Indulgent Father, . “Papa,” pleaded Miss Frocks, “won’t you buy me an automobile?"? “No, my love,” replied the indulgent parent. “I am saving my money to buy you a Buropean nobleman, which comes higher.”—Town Topics. il New Way of Blasting Rock. A new way of blasting rock is to place a cartridge of water into a shot hole ana convert it into steam instantly by electricity. This method is especial-. 1y applicable in coal mines. i

,:._/G) "' ? & RO\ G i,. Efi’fi‘? e & ,; ;~,/“ --@ I - ~— e

‘'MY DAYS. , Good days and bad days; glad days and sad days; Days when all is mournful, and days when all is bright; Days I bhave a happy heart, and dance and go a-singing, And days I've naught but troubie from the morning till the night.

Up days and down days; wise days-and silly days; i : Days I lose my playthings, and dsys 1 bump my head; ; ; Days I know my lessons, and jolly times are plentiful, And days I cry for nothing, and get sent up to bed. -

Big days and little days; young days and old days; - Days that come and days that go, a long and passing train; ) : And days when I am grown up, like days when I am little, Will still be sad or happy, full of sun~ ; shine or of rain. :

Days, days, and more days; my lifetime will be full of them; ) And to make the sunshine brighter, and the darkness seem less drear; To make more bright than dark days, more glad days'than sorry days, I've a stout heart to welcome them, and a hearty voice to cheer. —Eva Lovett, in Youth’s Companion.

HELEN’S GRASS PLOT.

It Was Quite Pretty Until Her Pet Worms Interfered with Her Sue- . cess as a Gardener,

Helen loved to play on the grass, and it troubled her greatly when it became hard and dry and brown in winter. . How unpleasant it looked! In some places it was ‘“frost-bitten,” in others it looked as if ‘““the moths had been at it,” Helen said. There were great bare places, sometimes as big as your hand, sometimes a foot square, all over the grass that used to be so pretty last June. Somebody suggested: “Why not have a grass plot in the house?” That was a fine idea! Auntie had her flowers, mamma had her birds. A little girl surely could take care of a grass plot! - A box was procured, about four by three feet, and in it the earth was carefully prepared and grass seed planted. After some days the tiny green spears began to appear, until, before long—oh, joy in the house and in Helen’s window!~there was a lovely green grass plot. A eharming expanse of colors, and Helen kept it there in good condition all winter.

She watered it regularly, kept it in plenty of sun to ‘“help the water .to make it grow.” She cut it at certain intervals all over with auntie's scis-

Ao ?*»;131?_&% g\ [=2 E : 717 /// H ,L_,_\ Z’flfyfl, /4/{ : : GEE ) i 3 S AN ' O, gB\ — S B B NG\~ : ’ il Az :,'/! i \ CEE e V=g N | AN ——l =y Fk . f\ A ol — | ) | e -.! p | —_— . ' “HELEN’'S GRASS PLOT.” sors. And one day when the door was shut she indulged a long-cherished wish. o She planted her-small feet carefully up and down on the soft grass, walking on grass as tender and yielding as if the month were May and not January! She was very careful when she did this, because, to Helen’s delight, two lovely brown worms had come to live in her grass plot. Where they came from nobody knew, but .they were there! And Helen sometimes considerately dropped a few crumbs for them among the grass, where no doubt the worms discovered them. . - There is some reason to think that the worms believed that the grass plot and the sun and the water and Helen’s bread crumbs were all intended for their sole benefit, and that to make them a comfortable home was Helen’s only duty. This was Helen’s idea, for the: worms grew quite fat and bold; and finally Helen was quite willing to have them put out into the garden to hide themselves as best they eould in a corner. They were too conceited and needed punishment. But that is the way with worms!—Dßrooklyn Eagle.

Bull Defies a ‘Locomotive.

While a gang of workmen were repairing the track on the main line of the Pennsylvania railroad, a large Buil n:ade its appearance and - scattered them in every direction. For aiout half an hour there was a running fight between the men and the bull. He wasimpervious to showers of rocks and an oceasional crack from .a shovel, and finally the men were forced to retreat up an embankment. Just then a heavy freight train hove in sight, and the bull stationed himself in the middle of the track. The engineer blew a warning blast; the bull, accepting this as a challenge, sent back a defiant bellow. Then there was a collision. The train went on serenely, while the bull—where was that misguided animal? Then the men came down the embankment and:resumed work. =

Pretty Rattle ‘for Dolly.

Crack an Engl'sh walnut in halves, and having first taken out the Kernel and put in either*a bell or one or two small pebbles, paste tha two shells together again. Lay it to dry for a quarter of an hour. When dry it will be found that there is a small ojening near one end. In this opening inserta mateh (from which the sulphur has been broken off) and glue it in. When this is dry gild the rattle. It may then be tied around the doll’s neck with ribbon, or it may be fastened to a necklace of beads. This may be improved upon in various ways, and makes quite an attractive little rattle. Defined.. . - Bobby—Pop, what is domestic econ- ~ Papa—lt is the fine art of reducing the grover’s bills and smoking ten-cent

GIANTS AT CAMBRIA. Survival of a Peculiar Custom Whieh 5 Has Obtained in Flanders for ' & Hundreds of Years. Eacn year in the middle of August the parish feasts at Cambria, in France, are concluded ‘with the march of the giants. .The cortege was particularly fine this year, the Gayant family of Douai and Reuse of Dunkirk having responded to the invitation of the Cambrians. 5

The various programmes published at Cambria have taken care to recall to mind the origin of the institution of the popular giants of Flanders. It 'was Charles V., said some of these, who endowed the subjects of the nurth with

iR - s / LV, : e’ 7 : ~§ ol &P NB o I 0 el ANX2 N/ i A 0 0@ e)iAN AR = B Sk O," // ‘fl_‘gj,“,‘_ ‘t‘ @-§ &2 Y {yfi [,?/ W \_:‘l." &) g AT\ 7AN v e(b R\ / ~;' & { =5 R el T ||\ V= 8™ 2y 4 i,‘fg'-_. 7/, 2= il ORN R vy GRS = AR Y JL’% Smbamh AMYUIEIRY | e - = L =4 «7 ) / TL i =3 S ) 2 B, e 4lie EY Wy = Q A PROCESSION OF THE GIANTS. this divertisement, to the end.that he ‘might engage and amuse these people of restless spirit. Others affirm that the giants® arose spontaneously out of the soul of the people. They are the heroic warriors who have saved the cit)_', and of whom the remembrance is perpetuated under this symbolical aspect.

However that may be, for the most part. the towns of Flanders, Beigium, have their giant. For instance, there is Grandfather Giant at Malines, Druon Antignon at Anvers, who came to take part in the fetes of Van Dyck; Hercules at Louvaine, Ommegan at Brussels, Lideric and Phinart at Lille, Goliath at Ath, Longeman at Hasselt, The Dragon at Mons, and, finally, Gayant and Reuse at Dunkirk. Each one has a local history. The date of birth of others is unknown and uncertain. They are due probably to the desire each village had to make the most droll, most amusing and most-éccentric display, in the words of the learned M. Theophile Denis, ta amuse big children with playthings. The willow mannikin, which repres sents Gayant of Douai, was constructed in the year 1530, to figure in a religious procession. - Gayant has been repaired very often since that time, and it is believed that there exists little of the original. carcass. His wife dates only since 1564. The children followed— Jacquot, Filian and Binbin. Gayant is over seven yards high, Mme. Gayant six, Jacquot four, Filian 3.5 and Binbin between 2.5 and three. Gayant, the most beautiful of the giants, who has figured at Cambria in the procession of the 15th of August, is costumed as a soldier of the sixteenth century.— St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

A WEATHER PROPHET.

The Tortoise Knows When It IsGoing to Rain and Always Makes

for Shelter.

The tortoise is not an animal one wnuld naturally fix upon as likely to be afraid of rain, but it is singularly so. T'wenty-four hours or more before rain “alls the Gallapagos tortoise makes for some convenient shelter. On a bright, clear morning, when not a cloud is to be seen, the denizens of a tortoise farm on the African coast may sometimes be seen heading for the nearest overhanging rocks. When that happens the proprietor knows that rain will come down during the day, and as a rule it comes down in torrents. The sign never fails. ‘This -pre-sensation, or whatever you may call it, which exists in many birds and beasts may be explained partly from the-increasing weight of the atmosphere when rain is forming, partly by habits of living and partly from the need of moisture which is shared by alk - - 7 :

If we want to find a country where nature has turned things topsy-turvy—-‘that is, according to our notion — we must go to Australia. Many things are reversed in that country. Itis summer there while it is ‘winter in America. Trees shed their bark instead of their leaves; fruit has the stone or kernel outside; ' swans sre black; there is a species of fly that kills and eats the | spider,- and a fish, called the climbing perch; that walks deliberately out of the water, and, with the aid of its fins, climbs the adjacent trees after the in-sects-that infest them. Sestech Whipping Machine, If you were a Scotch boy and were inclined to get into mischief you might appreciate the value of a recently igvented Scotch machine. It is a device for whipping young folk who have been amnruly. It is said that this ingenious machine works like a charm and will turn out more well-punished boys in an hour than the average person could attend to in a day. The machine is in operation_at the town of Airdrie. The complaint that the boys make who have ' been birched by the machine is that too much time passes between the ‘strokes, and each one of them feels like a sound thrashing in itself. Four strokes is a pretty severe punishment for any boy. The la&gbdflt the town of Airdrie are said to either be growing better behaved or are moving to another part of Scotland: ;| - . = B Hickle—Which of the actors n the ‘play impressed you most favorabis? - Bloozin—Winderly. -~ = Higgie-Wht L 0 s *W “”iy"%«z‘ (DA S, 20 g 2 * _ Lady—-Oh, I dou-tikuew; but T ol ekd oL i e e e :