Ligonier Banner., Volume 36, Number 13, Ligonier, Noble County, 27 June 1901 — Page 3

T VT Yo B o B 2 s THE PSS HCROT /(g’ (U 0 =~ < S T e o NE- \\ 1 STILLWET - | HARRY Lo> Copyright, 1899, by J. B. Lippincott Com- = pany. All rights reserved. CHAPTER IL.—CONTINUED. Dr. Brodnar was rescueu from a bad complication by his especial treaswire, Joe, the drive;’. - *“Go and bring your mother,” he said, quickly, as he lifted the unconscious Somers from the carriage.in front of his office. “Don’t lose one second! Keep your mouth shut.” Joe was out .of hearing before the doctor reached ~ 'his operating-room. The doctor’s as--sistant, half dressed, appeared quick- - ly. Somers was stretched upon a table, and his wound critically examined. The bullet had entered over and behind the right ear. and the side of his head was clotted with blood. A second wound an inch farther back Ibecame visible as the blood was washed away, but a probe carefully inserted in the forward wound came out of -the other, touching the skull in pass- " ing. There was no particle of brainmatter in the blood. - “Syncope from concussion,” said Brodnar. ‘“Watch him carefully until I return and do not permit him to speak.” The sound of wheels approaching caused him to descend the steps three at a time. He pressed back the aged negro woman who was dismounting. : “To the same place, Joe! Hurry!” he said, and the door closed. The woman so hastily secured was none other than the “mammy” who ~ had looked after the welfare of Frances since/infancy. She had been encouraged to absent herself for the night. Trajpned under- the old regime, with a sense of proprietorship in her old mistress and daughter, with a deep and impregnable pride in the family, she needed no cautioning. Nevertheless Dr. Brodnar said as they entered si- : lently the deserted yard: : . “There has been an accident. mammy. Ask no questions and answer none. Permit nobody to. see your ~ Yyoung mistress. Do you understand?”’ “De chile ain’t hu’t, young marster?” “No. A friend was. Her mind has been affected deeply by her father's condition and this shock has upset her. You must know nothing more of it.” Frances sat as he had left her, in the armchair. She offered no resistance when they laid her upon the bed and administered an opiate. The stains of blood were carefully. removed from her hands, and her wrapper changed, and Dr. Brodnar prepared to depart, for the day was now breaking. He remembered the pistol, and was searching the floor for it, when the reaction set in and Frances began to ery bitterly. Obeying his silent motion, mammy passed into the dressing-room and he took the girl’s hand. : “The whole blame rests upon me,” he said, gently. “Keep quiet; I will see you through.” And then acry burst from him: “What a fool! what a fool! : ‘And to think that Dick Somers—!” At sound of this name the girl’s grief be<came almost uncontrollable. “He loved me,” she said, brokenly. “And it has cost him his life!” “Loved you! Never! If he had atmed _ better, I could forgive him.” She was silent. “If he had aimed better!”—then she ~sat up with almost frantic energy.. “¥es The wound is not datal , Frances, Frances—back, my child—" “Take me to him—l must, I must go <o him—"” : “You are simply mad!” “He is my husband—l love him! I love him!?” Brodnar groaned and turned away his head. Suddenly the girl shivered and drew back, her gaze set fearfully on something behind him. “Close the window,” she whispered ~ +in a changed voice, “they may return.” “Why—what—what do you mean?” He was upon his feet, a strange iight in his face. : “It came from that window,” she whispered fearfully; ‘“some one fired through the slats.” “God in Heaven!” he cried, “I thank - you! Dick! Dick! forgive me!” He plunged out into the gray dawn and left the girl amazed and terrified. - - CHAPTER lIL Richmond at the time these events were occurring was in a tumult of excitement. The quarrel between the north and south in congress had long since reached the acute stage, and preparations were forming for that titanic struggle which was to shake America for four long years. South Carolina had led off, followed by Alabama. Mississippi, Florida, Georgia. Louisiana and Texas. The capital of the confederacy was in the far south, and while no one expected that Rich- - mond was to become the center of political intrigue. it had been easily foreseen that Virginia, being a slave state. would join her southern sisters, and that if war followed she would furnish the battle ground by reason of her geographical position. Few people believed in a serious conflict to come, but there were some who foretold a bloody struggle, and these were among the powerful srho gave time and direction to public sentiment. There was much discussion in state military circles, and a confident prediction that when the erisis came the . south must recall her sons from the service of the union. and enlist them under the banners of the state’s rights party, leaving many vacancies difficult 2 10 fifl, : i -Upon his couch in the rooms of Richmond’s popular physician Richard - ‘Bomers lay, convalescent. His wound ~ proved easy of management and healed - rapidly. But in the empty hours given ~ tohimfor recovery he reviewed bis late ~.experience, and with small comfort for - thimself. Carried away by sentiment, - the' had permitted himself to involve ~seriously a young girl intrusted to his - «care. He had acted like a sentimental - oy, he told himself. rather than as a ~ man coolly transacting a piece of busi- ~ 'pess to which a friend had commis- ~ ioned him. Evidently the whole matWxfiifi* | Chwough Nis Bead, ¥he only mistuke

being in the matter of aim. He had received no explanation from Brodnar other than thatean error had cost him the wound. There was a multitude of apologies, the tenderest of care—and silenee. But one day he arose and dressed himself, and, barring a slight dizziness of head, found the world about as he had leftit. And then Brodnar told him of such facts as he himself had knowledge. . ; “You were shot from a window by some one who saw you strike a match, my dear fellow, and who didn’t care whether your eyes were closed or not,” he said. : “But who-was the assailant—and what was the object?” “Under the window I found tracks, the track of a woman’s number two shoes, clear cut and sufficiently deep to suggest that the wearer was in all probability a settled woman. And yet a heavy woman’s foot would not have been so trim. There you have it all.” “Why should she have been there, and why should she have shot me?” “My dear fellow, ask me who wrote Shakespeare and the letters of Junius. Frankly, I know nothing on earth about this shooting beyond the simple fact. Perhaps the shot was not aimed at you.” Somers reftected for a moment. “Possibly you are correct in the suggestion. But if you, with all the information you have and knowledge of these people, are at sea, I have mno chance to unravel the mystery. Evidently my best planis my first plan—to leave at once. Some one lives who saw me in that room. The sooner I go now the better for the good of all. Only I would have you tell me again—if I may venture that far—if my young friend is well. and understands that my recovery, is-accomplished.” “SLke is well,” said Brodnar, with some constraint. “and understands.” “Look here. Francis, the truth is,” said Somers, rising, “I am not fond of mystery. I proposed to keep my promise and shall, but, man, I came near being involved in a lifeleng affection that night, and I ask you now if I am to leave here with no further information—" , “Yes,” said Brodnar, “otherwise you would defeat the object of the whole plan. Nothing could be more unfortunate for the girl than that you should see her again or knowledge of that marriage get abroad.” “So be it,” said Somers, sadly. *I keep my promise. To-night we say good-by.” Brodnar sat, moodily silent. drumming upon his desk, his eyes upon the floor. Suddenly he stocd erect. *Somers, I owe you something, owe you more than I may ever be able to repay; I shall tell you this much, and let you decide for the woman—" “A telegram, doctor, for Ar. R. Somers—your care.” A boyv had entered hurriedly and stood waiting. Somers took the message from the doctor’s hand, and, the messenger vanishing, he read aloud: “Report in person immediately to this offlice. . - “STANTON, ““Secretary of War.” Brodnar looked steadily into the glad. bright face of his friend, who was upon his feet in an instant and full of excitement. . *Will you report there?” “Will I? Tt is the dream of my life, Brodnar!—but—but—you were saying—!’ “Nothing.” , “I don’t understand you. Frank.” ~ “No member of the family, Dick, you have entered, ever drew sword against Virginia. You must choose between the woman and—" ‘ *My country? lls that it? How would you choose, Frank?” Brodnar was silent, looking away. “Take this message to her for me, my friend; it is the last request, perhaps, I shall ever make to you—" : : “Dick—" : “Say to her that Richard Somers passes out of her life to serve his country. His duty done, please God, and she needs his arm, he will follow her to the end of the earth. Say that for me; and then, farewell.”

CHAPTER IV. Themorningsunstrikingthrough the eastern window of a hotel room shone full upon the face of a woman who lay sleeping there. She was dressed as for the street, but her hair was loose and fell about her shoulders in gleaming, golden masses. KEven in the trying light upon it her face was beautiful. Perfectly oval, it possessed a combination of dark shadings rarely found in blonde types, and the even brows were as delicate as though penciled by an artist. Upon hercheekslay long, dark lashes. Sleeping, she seemed scarcely more than a girl in age, the few lines upon her face fading out of prominence; and yet there was a womanliness in her trim, settled figure that told of years not otherwise to be suspected. i - The bell of a tower clock near at hand rang out loudly the hour. The sleeper stirred uneasily, opened her eyes, and instantly, as full consciousness returned, bounded from ‘the bed to the floor. In the quick look she gave to her surroundings terror was apparent. A moment later she had pulléd the bell-cord and was waiting, her watch in hand, by the door. A negro servant knocked and was admitted. She did not notice his oid-fashioned and courteous salute. ~ “Why was I not called for the six o’clock train?” she began in great agitation. “We call #'ree times, ma’am—t’ree times; an’ you say ‘all right’ ev’y time, ma’am.” ; “I answered ?” . © “Yes, ma’am. An’ we t'ink, ma’am, mebby you done change yo' min’.” Something like despair came to her face. . { “The time now?” ' “Nineo’clock.ma’am. Clock desstruck, ma’am. Gem’man downstairs sen’ dis cyard, ma'am, an’ say—" The gentleman in. question passed the speaker, stepping across the threshold. - “Yoa may go,” he said, curtly, and waited until the old servant had retired and closed the door. Then he turned coolly towards the woman. “And now, madam, what does this mean?”’ : W “Raymond!” : : i - “Why have you left London?” The woman did not answer. She had eried the name nysterically and started forwird; then, suddenly, drawing her hair from her face, she . oo nim him,cher gray-eyos digenied o Sy on U expectation ot bicieg W*&?Mm cynicism and sterns e Ll es S B e %};w e R AR s R e e

ness. He was unmistakably astonished. *“Well,” he said, at length, “what isit?” “You here!” the exclamation was but a whisper. “I thought—" ‘ “Why should I not be here? Didn’t ¥ou write, requesting me to come? I was not in the city yesterday, nor lagt night, and have but just received your foolish letter. Are you mad, indeed—that you come -to this city—that you follow me up in publie!— Name of Heaven, woman, what is the matter with you?” ‘ “Not in the city last night! Not in the city! Then—then—" She caught a chair. “Oh, I am ill<-ill!” She seemed about to fall, but her-eompanion made no movement.to assist her. “There is some—mistake!” she whispered. “Some awful—mistake!” '

“What are you talking about?” He stood looking curiously upon her. She turned suddenly, ran to him, and, falling upon her knees, clasped her arms about him, giving way at the same time to a paroxysm of hysteria that swayed them both with its vielence. He stooped impatiently, broke her clasp with a violent effort, and half pushed, half lifted her into the chair. Burying her face in her hands, she gave way to violent weeping while he stood by. ' ] The man was of medium height and fine figure, his faultless dress and his every motion revealing the fashionable world. His face might have been handsome at one time, but something had fled from it, and something had come to it since then. That which had come men usually call the marks of dissipation; that which had fled they had no name for. He might have been genuinely: indignant or playing a part, but he gazed sternly a few moments only upon the agitated woman, his black eyes gleaming wickedly; then, with a sneer and siight gesture of dismissal, turned away. Taking from his pocket a case, he proceeded calmly to select and light a cigarette, and walking unconcernedly #o the fireplace, tossed his match intodt. Standimg with his back towards her, he busied himself with a hunting scene above the mantel. And thus, presently, the woman, ceasing to ery, found him. She clasped her hands upon her chair-arm convulsively and lifted her head. With a few rapid motions she twisted the fallen hair into position and arose to her feet. “When you have finished with the picture,” she said, “listen to me.” Startled, he whirled and faced her. Her figure was now erect and head

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lifted. The tenderness was gone from her eyes. Wide open, they seemed to measure and threaten him. He came siowly forward,thesneerunpon his face. “You gave me your promise to remain in London until I returned,” he said, “and you have broken it.” “And you! you told me that you were here to wind up some eState matters and would return immediately. You had no idea of returning. You intended to desert me. You lied! Where is my child, sir?’ The man’s face flushed and grew deathly pale. He took two quick steps forward and hesitated. “It is useless, Raymond, to try to frighten me. You were born a coward—and I was not. Look to your--self!” She drew from her bosom a letter and extended it towards him. ;“I found this after your departure; it is from your mother.” His assumed indifference vanished. Furlous, he snatched the letter from her and ‘raised his arm. : . “Wreteh!” : ~ “Take care,” she said, coldly, slowly withdrawing her hand. “You are dealing with a desperate woman. You are welcome to your letter. I know it by ‘heart. In it I am called by a vile iname—and you are told that a bride ‘and fortune await you at home. You came.” He was silent. “You do not ldeny it,” she added. With a slight ~gesture he turned away and seated i himself. ; ~ “There is no need to deny it mow,” ‘he said. “Sit down, Louise.” She } waited a moment, and, moving a chair a few feet away, seated herself, facing ‘him. o - “We have both made mistakes,” he said, coolly, preparing to light another cigarette,**‘and I am willing to. admit that in afl the matters between us I have been equally to blame, but,” he 'added between puffs, as he smoked, “you have a full share to setfle for yourself. It is, however, too late to discuss the beginning of this association. We must consider its end; for, as you evidently surmised, the time to end it has come.” She made no reply, but waited for him to continue, her clear gray eyes riveted upen his. “You have not believed me, but it is true, nevertheless, that I am entirely dependent upon my méther. My little property has long since disappeared with yours; she holds the whip hand. Ever since her second marriage she has intended me for a young. girl, her stepdaughter, in fact—? v “You have known this all along—?” “Yes; and while the child was growing up she has tolerated this life of mine. Now she proposes to end it. The question is, How may you and I sebtle 462 ‘, ‘ “I seel” A o ; “You are practical enough to understand that lam helpless. If I should refuse the old lady, I could not live 24 hours without work; nor could you. If I yield, as I must, you will be provided for—with little—Nanon.” | . [To Be Continueas) . . . Crime Decreasing. = Inififi? there were 10,314 ji vwfle oftenders in England. Now there are 4,500 only in various reiormatories.

: CALLED DOWN. *“lf T were king of some fair land, Sweet little one,”” he cried, *“l'd take you by the trembling hand And lift you to my side; Had I to purple robes been born, ; And you came on the scene, Though you were lonely and forlorn, I'd stoap to make you queen.” *“And if you loved me,”” she replied, “With all a lover’s love, You would not ‘lift me to your side,’ Nor seek me from above; ¢ You would not speak of stooping down To ‘raise me from below,’ . For love would sweep away your crown And all your kingly show.” He gazed down in her flagshing eyes And slowly shrank away; He ieft her withunhappy sighs, ; Forgetting kingly sway— The man who loves a maid and who Would win her favor must Proceed, when he begins to woo, To grovel in the dust. —S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Record-Herald. & ON THE LEFT E 3 A Fairy Story of To-Day. E; R R IR IR IR TTRIR R T TR T N the days when every hero was a prince and every heroine a princess, long before authors had used up all the pretty make-believe subjects and had been obliged to turn to and hunt amongst the ugly everyday facts of life for material to write stories about, there lived a princess who was so lovely that when men first saw her they used to rub their eyes and pinch themselves to make sure that they were awake, and that she really was a live princess and not a part of a dream.

But the princess was as real as she was beautiful. In fact, the only difference between her and the other people you meet in the streets was that the gods had been kinder to her than to most foiks.

At her birth she had been given many gifts. The sun had kissed her cheeks, and this had come as such a surprise that the two little blushes that had been born there had never quite died away; the night shades, ! which were just hurrying off, left be- | hind them two trailing shadows in her gentle eyes; the sun, too, had shed some of his gold amongst her curly locks;. and mnature hung a charm about her so that she had a way of winding herself around people’s hearts, getting more and more tightly fixed every hour, until she nestled in some warm corner and got all and more than her share of love. ] It was the same wherever she went. Everyone loved her, first for her beauty and afterwards for herself.Old men and women, young men and maidens, kings and courtiers alike, made her queen of their hearts. But in spite of all this love and admiration, the poor, pretty princess was not happy. For amongst other gifts the gods had given her a golden heart. Now, a heart of gold sounds a very nice possession. People envied her, and used to tell their children stories about the beautiful princess with a heart of gold. But the princess herself found it anything but. comfortable, and sometimes very heavy. The fault was that it was too fine a possession for everyday use. It was not soft and yieiding like ordinary hearts on which it is easy to make impressions, and so it came to pass that, while everybody loved her, the poor princess could not love anyone. By this I mean anyone in particular, which, after .all, is the only kind of love that counts. She loved everyone jus’ in the same degree, she gave them all sterling 24-carat love, but all the time she ached to be able to give some one person something better and make him king and master of her fine gold heart. | “Will nothing melt it?” she cried to herself one day, after she had discnissed the latest of her a_dmirers,i and the little gold heart was feeling unusually cold and glittering. “Am I to live all my life with a little dead heart that will never awake to love? Shall I always go on being loved and never learning what love is?” And she put her head down and ! cried until the shadows in her dark‘ eyes grew deeper and deepe?, and the end of her little tip-tilted nose was as pink as the heart of a shell. “It is no good being so silly,” she said at last to herself. “If you go on crying you will only make your eyes red and yourself ugly, and then where will you be? Worse off than before! for folkks will leave off loving you, and jou will then hz -2 nothing left.” So, being a very practical princess, she set to work to dry her eyes, u«nd, having powdered her nose, she sent for the court physician, of whom she demanded a love potion which would cure her complaint and me.t her heart. : But the physician was old. Fe shook his head. His science did not admit of love potions. He said they werel dangerous, and, worse than all, unprofessional. He would never administer one. ‘ “Pooh!” said the princess, with a little pout, after he had gone. = “I might have known better than to ask a man about such a matter—especial1y one whose feelings have grown old. Men know mnothing about hearts. They call love indigestion if it is anyone else who is suffering from it, and indigestion love if they have it themselves. 1 must try elsewhere.” . So she put on her hat and hurried away to a big store kept by a woman of the worid who traded upon her experience, and out of the wealth of her worldly wisdom gave advice to all who came to consult her. - : The princess explained her symptoms. ' ‘ e “Ah!” said the woman, after she had listened to her. “I can easily see what is the matter with you. While you were talking to me you spread out your wings, and they were very white. You need a tonic called experience” - “But,” said the princess, with great, wide-open, astonished eyes, “I did not. know that I had wings”> | ~ “We all hav> wings,” said the world- | ly wise woman. “That is tnc difference between us and men. Only some of us don't mfim%ormim with; some clip them early in life,| others draggle them in the mire, Mhow soms Lkt sheh Waek Ralev| o e

oped ones that they are not strong enough to even help them to rise above the petty cares of life. Ok, yes, we all have wings given us, beautiful white wings; that is why men sometimes call us angels. Yours are particularly strong and white; it comes of you having a heart of gold.” “But the tonic!” broke in the princess. impatiently, thinking the woman would never finish. *“Where can I get at? 2? - “Right at the end of the World’s store, the last department on the left,” said the woman. “Oh!” said the princess, with a little cry of dismay. “It seems such a long way off. I am afraid I shall be very old and very tired before I get it.” “Is it—is it very expensive?” asked the princess, taking out her little gold purse. “It costs something to buy,” said the woman. “What do you think the cost will be?” inquired the princess. , “It will have to be bought at the cost of the whiteness of your wings, I fear,” said the woman of the world, rather sadly; for even she was beginning to feel the influence of the heart of gold, and to yield to the charm that hung about the princess. “Experience is a tonie that must be paid for. I have some others, such as patience, sweetness, fascination, cunning and wariness, that I could sell cheaper, but I am afraid they won’t suit your complaint; they are more for gaining love than for giving it.” “But,” said thé princess, wavering, “I don’t want to ‘lose my white wings.” Then, seeing the woman did not say anything, she asked, abruptly: s it nice?” ; “Sometimes it is, sometimes it is not,” said the woman. “You pay your money, but you can’t take your choice. You must risk so much.” “Thank you,” she said, “for your advice; but I don’t think I care to take your tonic. I don’t want to smirch my white wings just as soon as I have discovered that I have got them.” “Perhaps you are right,” said the woman, laconically. Then she added, passionately: “Oh, I wish I had been as strong as you are! Mine are full of black quiils; not really black, you know, but smirched and smeared—their freshness gone. The world would rub up against them, and I had a silly idea that men liked piebald effects. Now I know that this is a mistake.” “Never mind, you have had the luxury of love and suffering,” said the princess. “I know neither.” ! So, although the princess did not take the advice, the two parted friends. “You will let me know when you find yourself in the last department on the left,” the woman cried after her as she went away. “Yes,” said the princess, “I will—if I ever arrive there.”

So the princess returned to the palace really no wiser tnan she had left it. All the comfort she had found was that when the little gold heart hung more heavily than usual she used to wrap her white wings closer around her and tell herself that there was not one single smirched feather in either of them. Suitors still came and wooed her in vain. She listened graciously to them all, because she longed to be able to learn the lesson they came to try and teach her. They used to look at her tip-tilted nose, her dawnkissed cheeks, and eyes whose charms were only accentuated by those trailing shadows, and love her to distxraction—all in vain. For the white wings wrapped her round like a coat of armor. There was no beating them down; they shielded the princess’ heart and caused all her suitors to stand on one side in awe and reverence. But one day there came a bolder wooer. A prince with bright eyes that knew no fear. - He saw in a glance what was the matter. The whiteness of the wings was freezing the princess into a beautiful saint. He stopped his wooing abruptly and took the princess into his arms without as much as saying “By your leave” or asking her to love him back, and gave her one kiss after another—and then waited. The princess was so mightily astonished that before she knew what she was about she put her two soft lips to his cheek and gave him back a little ghost of his own kisses and then slipped away. That night when she folded her wings she noticed that one of the feathers was tipped with gray. ' When she woke,up in the morning she wondered what had happened, for her heart was aching and fluttering as never a golden heart has ever ached or fluttered before or since. .

“Why is it beating like a bird against the bars of its cage?” she asked herself in wonderment at the new sensation. : Suddenly she knew, and turned blushing away from her glass, not liking even to meet the reflection of her own eyes. “It can’t be that,” she told herself. “Why, I was very angry!” 2 But all the same it was the tipped feather that got all the preening that morning. : “I wonder if I am really in the last department on the left at last?” she said to herself. Even the people who loved the princess most never guessed that she had lost her heart of gold and found one of flesh and blood to take its place. That was a seeret between her and the prince, and as they were soon made one, it could hardly be called a secret at all. - ; ; The people told even more wongerful tales than before about her goodness and kindness, although some of the women said that she had lost some of her old saint-like looks; but no one ever knew the truth about those white wings. The woman o the world was the only one who wa: ever keen enough to notice the graytipped feather, and even she never knew the real truth, although she worried herself into a fine distraction as to how the princess ever got into the last department on the left. ~ For, you see, she was too much of a woman of the world to understand {TOTE ST nTR e

) - : . i {age); ' R-7 fl N . @}c’&fi @)L/ >JE L et D b W Tnas Al WM 99208 e " IL»\ .. i- g ’) - - “ e ~ - T ~w - * B i e THE CAKE THAT WAS BYRNT. There was a little cook, and she made & little cake, ' She put it in the oven just to bake, bake,. bake; , : It was full of plums and spice, And of everything that's nice, And she said: ‘““An hour, I reckon, it will take, take, take!” . And then that little coek went to have a little play, With a very charming cat across the way, way, way, She forgot the cake, alack! It was burnt, well, almost black; And I wondered what the cook's mamma would say, say, say! ) The little caok ran off, and confessed her tale of woe, ) For to find her cake a cinder was a blow, blow, blow; ' “Cheer up,” her mother said, - As she stroked the golden head, “For accidénts will happen, we all know, know, know!"” —Sheila, in Cassell’s Little Folks. AN ALLIGATOR HUNT. It Is Great Spert and Far More Exciting Than Catching a Shark or Even a Tarpon, . Boys who have never seen' an alligator in his haunts, much less participated in a’chase after one, would be greatly interested in a Florida 'gator hunt. Pretty soon these affairs will be things of the past. The young Chicagean who would like to pull a big fellow out of his lair must hurry or it will be too late, for the days of this species of the crocodile are growing short. To such an extent has the reptile been hunted for his hide and teeth that he has become a scarce product of the tropical gulf region. Not only have the larger ones been caught, but nests have been robbed and the eggs sold as curiosities. The eggs are laid in the sand, where they hatch in six weeks if they escape the. ravages of the egg hunter. But even then there is danger for the little fellow, for no sooner does he poke his nose through the shell than a human eye spies him, captures him and finally sells him to a tourist, who ships him away to some nortkern friend. Alligators do not stay in salt water; they live in caves along the many creeks tributary to the rivet, feeding in the big stream only at night. Nowadays various distances must be traversed before a capture is effected. In past years they have been captured by the thousand. : Samuel Bariield, of Rockledge, Fla., is' the Indian river genius of the ’'gator hunt. He arranges hunting parties among the mnortherners to

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witness his prowess. He has a steam Jaunch at his command and with a party of all the way from 20 to 40 persons he steams up or down the river on his exciting mission. One after another of the caves known as haunts of the game is visited. Barfield, who has an experience of ‘l6 years as a ’gator hunter, has learned to imitate the peculiar bark of the animal. Approaching a cave he utters a succession of sounds which serve to coax the game out of the cave. All is excitement among the onlookers about this time. Everyone is craning his neck to catch a first glimpse of the monster. No sooner does he poke his huge nose out of his den than Sam, who has remained out of sight, grabs the big fellow by the jaws and in a twinkling slips a rope muzzle over them. An experienced ’gator man has no fear of being bitten, though the vicious brute would ‘chew him up did he get the chance. The jaws being safely tied so that biting is impossible, the legs ‘are manacled with ropes, and then the alligator is towed to Rockledge, where the visiting pcpulace gather. at the dock to see the captive and hear the details of the hunt. Barfield is one oif the most interesting characters about the resort. The visitors gather about his little palm thatched cabin to hear him tel of his various captures, for besides being an alligator hunter he has killed more rattlesnakes than any other hunter in Florida. In his cabin is imprisoned an alligator which he says is 150 years old. It is 12 feeg long. i In a cage in the cabin is a gray eagle of huge size. The proud bird came near meeting his end the other day. The alligator had poked a -hole. in the wire screen covering the cage and had crawled half-way into the box when Barfield discovered the situation. The eagle had huddled up in one corner of the cage and was the most badly scared bird in Florida.— Chicago Record-Herald. ; ‘How Duty Became Pleasure, “Bobby is attending to his piamvforte lessons very faithfully of late,” said the boy’s uncle. “Yes,” replied his mother; “I don’t have any trouble with him about it now.” “How did you manage it?” “Some of the neighbors complained of the noise his exercises made, and I told him about it. Now bhe thinks it's fun to practice.” R e e dn S eses e vt dassmap el U TN eI LORE POR ETE ACy @ N WM. ] &«;i, fif'f‘ \ % 4 .

R Sy R B eS P B MS S S RS A - .DOG TAMED BY CHILD, ‘Fierce St. Bernard, the Terro?r of amn ‘Eastern Community, as Wax in ) ; the Hands of a Baby. : A little boy, scarcely more than s baby, living at Roxbury, Mass.,, has succeeded in taming a fierce St. Bernard dog that has been a terror in ths neighborhood for more than a year past. Grown people could do mnotking with the animal. He wassavageat all times and used to attack the children as they were passing his master’s house. Mr. Miller, who owned the great brute, tried to get rid of him, but could not, for as often as he was given away he came back to the hvusa where he was not welcome. At last the fierce nature of this dog 2 has been changed and it was a littlae ‘babe who conquered it. He was brought over to Roxbury by Mr. Hauer, to whom Mr. Miller gave him, muzzled. He did not make {friends with his new master or mistress, but was more ferocious than ever. Even Mr. Hauer thought him now to be mad. The dog was unmuzzled ard pushed into a room in the garret. While Mr.and Mrs. Hauer were discusse

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ing the question of asking the police to dispose of the dog Mrs. Hauer missed her only child, little Sammy. A horrible thought struck her. Could the dog have entered the mnwrsery, which is adjoining the room in whichs they had kept the dog? All went up breathless and before the door heard ‘the whining of the animal and cry of the baby! Mr. Hauer was first to recover. Ha opened the door and saw Dicky, the dog, and Sammy rolling over the floor, playing with each other in actual delight. . ‘ The grown-up people were speeche less. The ferocious animal of five min< utes ago had become a meek lamb im the hands of the baby, who had doubtless pushed open the door of the nur= sery and made friends with the dog. Dicky is now perfectly changed. Hai is the pet of the family. obeys orders from his new masters, but allows na one to touch him except little Sammy, over whom he watches like a guardiam ‘angel. : ;

| HOW FISHES BREATHE. They Need Very Little Oxygen ta Xeep the Blood Warm Enough to Sustain Life. ' The gills of a fish are situated a$ the back part of the sides of the head, and consist of a number of vascular membranes, which are generally in double, fringe-like rows, fixed by the base only; sometimes these are featherlike, and sometimes they are mere folds of membrane at=tached at each end over the gill cavities. In general, there are four gills on each side, though in some fish there are more. In fishes that have. bones the gills are attached to the outer edge of bony arches connected with the bone of the tongue and with the base of the skull, the connection at each end being by intervening small bones, while the cavity containing the gills on each side ‘of the head is covered by a bony, plate with two subordinate pieces. ilt is by the movement of these bony, ‘plates that the water is expelled 'which is taken in through the mouth, and which, after passing among the gills -and supplying them with air, passes out by the gill openings at the back of the head. . The fish is a cold-blooded animal—that is, its temperature is very slightly above that. of the water in which it lives, and it therefore needs but little oxygen to keep the blood warns .enough to sustain its life. _This oxygen, supplied to the blocod by the gills in respiration, is not obtained by decomposing the water, but by separating the air from it. It is, therefore, necessary that the water in which fish live should be supplied with air, and this is one of the direct benefits of the agitation ~of oceans and lakes by winds. Fishes confined in aquariums often die for this very reason—because the water is not aerated. They consume all the oxygen in the closedvessel in which they are placed, and ne more being supplied, they die, and may be said to be drowned, because they perish from the same cause that occasions death by drowning in lung breathing animals—that is, want of air.

A Wonderful Cute. Cassidy—Yis, Oim all right now, doether. ’Tis the quare way ye hov o’ curin’ a man, intirely. Dr. Faykerr—Ah! You wouldn’t be well now if you hadn’t followed the written directions as I told you. Cassidy—Follered thim? Faith, Oi thought ye said “swoller” thim, an® that’s what Oi done!—Philadelphia Press. » A Stroke of Economy. - “Reginald has a fit of economy on him, mamma, and I do alll can to encourage him.” “I always told him you would maks a good wife, Mary.” “Yes. I sold his dress-coat for $l7 last week and it was just enough to buy me a new morning wrapper.™ —Leslie’s Weekly. 4 ~ Merely a Conversation. ! - Jones—Yes, Maria, the infatuation shown by you women for foreign titles is appa ,fid%‘:fiufiww tions of the republic. No, T won's be home for dinner; I'm going to be