Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 November 1890 — Page 6

THE MISTER OF THE MINE.

CHAPTER L ▲ Prolog ce, and the first scene. In a large wooden building, not far from the seashore, a building attached as shoolhouse to ‘Munster's Boarding Academy for Young Gentlemen,’ I, Hugh Trelawney, then scarcely ten years old, was moping alone. I had only arrived two days before from London, where I had parted from my father, a traveling lecturer in the cause of what was then known as the New Moral World. My mother had long been dead, and I had led a somewhat neglected life, ‘sometimes accompanying my father on his wandorings, more often being left to the care, or carelessness. of strangers. At last I had been sent to Southampton to complete a very perfunctory education. It was afternoon, and a half-hol’day; (my new schoolfellows were playing close by. Tor myself, 1 was too used to loneliness to be very miserable. I merely felt an outcast for the time being, and took no interest whatever in my new associations. As I sat thus, I must have fallen into a brown study, from wbioh a slight sound startled roe. Looking up, I met the flash of two dark eyes which were intently regarding me. •Are you the new boy ?’ said a clear voice. I nodded, and stared at my interrogator, a girl of about my own age, whose black eyebrows were knitted in a way very curious in so young a child as she seemed. j Her arms anp neck were bare, and she was fondling a kitten, whoso bright j eyes and lissom movements seemed to have something in common with her 1 own beauty. I noticed, toe, that she wore earings, and that they were very bright and glistening. What is your name? she continued, in the same clear questioning tone, altogether with the manner of a superior who was not to be trifled with. ■ —— : E—“Hugh.” “Hugh what?”_ “Hugh Trelawney.” I felt somewhat overawed by the tone of the little lady, who, to my boyish eyes, seemed much- mote my senior than she was in reality. She continued to regard me with the same keen scrutiny, and then said, looking at my attire: “Who is dead?”

I still wore black*for my mother, and, with a somewhat faltering voice, I told her - so.') She did not seem surprised, and expressed no sympathy; but, walking to l the schoolroom window, looked out, saying, “Why don’t you go out and play with the other boys - ”’ “I don’t care about play. I am tired.’’ | ••Tired with what?” she questioned quickly. I made no reply, for I was not prepared for the question. I had meant to imply that I was low-i spirited and dull, but had not cared to ! confess so much in so many words. She understood me. however, and although she seemed indifferent to my ! condition, troubled mo with no more questions. Glad to direct her attention from myself, for her bright eyes troubled me and made me feel ashamed, I stooped down and stroked the kitten, which she had placed qpon the floor. Even as I did so, I could feel her eyes still fixed upon me; but when I looked up again with an annoyed expression, she turned her eyes away and laughed. This emboldened me, and 1 began to question in my turn. “Are you the schoolmoster’s daughter?” At this she laughed the more—so brightly and pleasantly, with such a good-humored sympathy that my first impression of her began to improve, and I saw hat, besides being a rather imperious, he was a very pretty young lady. ••Why do you laugh?” I remarked. “At you.” she roplied; “because you take me for Mr. Munster’s child. 1 am a stranger here, like yourself. My people live far away in South America, and are very rich. My mother is deadT. and I don’t remember her. My fa°ther has sent me here to be taught; but I shall soon go back to him. Haye you a father?" she added quickly. I nodded. [ • ‘ls he kind to you, and was it he that sent you to school?’’ she asked. But without waiting for ray reply to her questions, she oontinued: “My father cried when I left him, though he is A great man, and when he gavb me these earrings, he told me my mother had worn them before me, and he kis?cd them. We live far away irom here, in a brighter place. Don't yoa hato England?”

' This was rather a startling query, but being in a state of mind bordering on disgust for life in general, I readily assented. Her eyes gleamed. „ ’ --It is a dreary place, "she cried, -dull and ins<. r it rains nearly every day But it is different where I come from. It is always bright there, aud there are flowers everywhere synd lhe~ trees are full of fruit; and there are bright insects, and beautiful snakes without stings, that ran be taught to twine round your neck and feed out of your hand.” • As she spake thus, indeed, it seemed that I was transported to the lard of which she spoke; her eyes were so sparkling, her face bo bright and sunny. her form so foreign m its ■lender beauty—and her earrings glistened, and her beautiful ivory teeth gleamed—aud I saw her walking in that land, a wonder among dll ‘wonders there, with fruits and flowers [Over her head, and brilliant insects floating round her, and luminous

By Robert Buchanan.

snakes gleaming harmless in her path, and dusky slaves waiting upon her and doing her courtesies. For it must be borne in mind that I had been a studious, boy, fond of reading wild books of travel and adventure, and of picturing in my mind the wonders of foreign lands. Much that I had fancied of dwellers in distant regions was realized in the face I now beheld for the first time. . At what age is a beautiful human creature—and more particularly one belonging to the gentler sex—insensible to admiration? lam certain that my nefcr friend perceived mine, and that it did not displease her. It was, at any rate, genuine homage, quietly expressed, almost against my will,in the pleased yet timid glances of my eyes. When she next spoke, her clear impetuous tone was greatly changed and softened, and kindor lightdwelt on her face. ■ i “If you will come with me,” she said, “I will show you the place. There is not much to see but the garden, and that I like well enough. Will you come?” I rose awkwardly, as if at a word of command, and taking my cap from the peg where it hung, swung it in my hand as I followed her to the door. Ashamed, yet pleased, to be chaperoned by a girl, 1 wondered what my schoolfellows would think of it. Close to the schoolroom was the playground, or rather the capacious piece of lawn dignified by that name. My schoolfellows were playing cricket thereon. They paid no attention to me as I passed, but looked at my companion with a curious and not too friendly expression. She, for her part, passed along imperiously, without deigning to cast a single look in their direction; and I noticed that her look had changed again, and that her dark brows were knitted with the former unpleasant expression. She said nothing, however, for some minutes. _____ . .... . . g Our first visit was to the top of a high knoll behind the house, whence we could seethe surrounding country, and. some miles to the southward, the distant sea. with a white frost of billows on the edge of liver-coloured sands.

It was a quiet, sunless day; but far away there were gleams of watery light on the whits sails passing by under full canvas. The girl looked seaward at the parsing with much the same peculiar expression she had tforn on our fir§t encounter. “Are you clever?” she asked suddenly. This was a question which I as a modest totally unprepared to answer. I looked at the ground, peeped at her, and laughed. Her expression did not change. “I mean do you know much?” she continued in explanation. -‘Have you learnt much before.” I explained to her, as well as possible. that my acquirements were very slender indeed, and merely consisted of the stray crumbs of knowledge which I had been enabled to pick up at day sohools in the various towns where my father had resided during my childhood../ In point of fact, I was a thoroughly uncultivated little boy, and had never been cram med with th ■ solid pabulum so much in vogue at our public schools. I could read and write, of course, and knew arithmetic as far as the rule three, and had got through the first four declensions in the Latin grammar; but all was a chaos, and 1 had lid accomplishments. I did not explain all thi? tyj my interrogator ; for I was too proud*. “If you are clever and know so little.” observed the girl thoughtfully, .“take care of the other boys. Why don't you make friends with them? Why do you like to sit alone, and be Bullen? If there were girls here 1 should make friends, I know. But boys are different; they have cruel ways, and they hate each other. ” All this was said in a tone rather of reflection than of conversation; and she still kept her eyes on the distant ships, as if from some secret source far away the current of her thoughts was flowing. The boys hate me,” she pursued, “because they think me proud. lam not proud, but I am quicker and cleverer than they are, and I come from a better place. I beat them in the class and at all things, except figures; and I have helped the biggest of them sometimes, when they were too stupid to understand.”

All this wa3 a revelation to me. Until that moment I had never supposed that my companion’s place was among the common scholars. During my first two days in school she had been absent—a circumstance which she soon explained to me without any questioning. •‘I have been away on a visit, and only returned this morning. Ido not come to school every day, because I have headaches, and my father will only have me learn When I please. Now let us go down and look at- the garden. There, are fruit bushes there and some of the fruit is ripe.” ’ Still respectful and submissive. I followed, aud we wdre sooh wandering side by side in the quiet garden in the neighborhood of the schoolliduso. Ever and anon, as we walked, I heard the shouts and cries of my playmates; but they were wafted to me as from some forsaken life. A spell had been passed upon me, and I was in a dream. As I write, the dream surrounds me still. Yearß ebb backward, clouds part, the old horizons come nearer and nearer, and I am again wandering in the quiet shade Of trees with the shining young fee*

at my side. I can no longer recall looks and words. All becomes a tremor. I see the one fade only, but the voice becomes in articulator What I remember last is a sudden sound dissolving a speiL A bell rang loudly from the housed and my companion uttered an exclamation: “That is the bell for tea!” she exclaimed. “You had better go.” . And she ran before me up the path. She was nearly out of sight among the garden bushes when, urged by curiosity, T took courage, and called after her. “What is your name?” I cried. She nodded back with a smile. “Madeline,” she replied. ‘Madeline Graham.” With that she was gone. For a moment I 6tood bewildered, and then, with quite a new light in my eyes, I made the best of my way into the house, and. joined the boys at the tea-table. Although Mrs. Munster presided at the board, my new friend did not appear, and as I munched my bread and butter, I thought of her face with a kind of dreamy pleasure, delicious to recall even now. 2E5

CHAPTER 11. NEMESIS INTERVENES. In my hasty sketch of school, I have made little or no mention of the schoolmaster and his wife. Indeed, %o far as my present retrospection is concerned, they are nonentities; and they form part of my story only in so much as they affected my relations with the leading actress in the life drama towhich these chapters are the. prelude; Munster was a feeble looking but talented little man, with a very high forehead, which he w&8 constantly mopping with cold water, to subdue inordinate headaches; and Mrs. Munster was a kind creature, with an enormous respect for her lord, and quite a motherly interest in us boys, she having no children of her own. The manner of these good people Was kind towards all; But their treatment of Madeline Graham wasblonded with a sense of restraint almost bordering on fear. It was obvious that they had been instructed to treat her with more "than ordinary solicitude, and it was equally obvious that they were liberally paid for so doing. When she broke from all restraint, as was the case occasionally, their concern for her personal welfare was not unmixed with a fear lest open rupture might rob them of the installments derived from their wealthiest pupil. Madeline, on her side, was perfectly conscious of this; but, in justice, it must be said that she seldom look undue advantage of her position. The more I saw of Madeline Graham, the more I observed her manners and .general bearing, the more the thought of her possessed me,, and blended with my quietest dreams.

After the first interview she held somewhat aloof for many days, bather eyes were constantly watching mo in school and at meals, though without any approach to further familiarity. She seemed desirous of keeping mo at a distance, for reasons which I could not possibly penetrate. Gradually, however, we came together again. Madeline had not exaggerated when she boasted of excelling the other scholars, and tasks which taxed all the energies of boyhood were easily mastered by her_quick and restless brain. .. . She was taught with the rest of us in the open school, and was generally at the head of her cia’ss. It so happened that I myself, although in many things dull and ipdifferent, was also gifted with a memory of uncommon tenacity. In all tasks which demanded the exercise of this function I took a foremost place. Madeline was my most formidable rival, and we began, quietly at first, but afterwards with energy, to light for the mastery. - The competition, instead of severing brought us closer to each other. Madeline respected the spirit which sometimes subdued her, and l, for my part, loved her the better for the humanising touches of passion which my victory frequently awakened. We had been friends six months, the quiet round of school life had become familiar and pleasant to me, when, one day, at breakfast, I noticed that Munster wore a very troubled expression as he broke open the largest of a number of letters lying before him The envelope was of peculiar yellow paper, and the postmark looked foreign. Madeline, who sat close by, turned white, and eager, and her great eyes fixed themselves ou the strange missive. \\ ithin the letter to Munster was a smaller one, which he handed to Madeline silently.

With impetuous eagerness,she opened and read it It was very short. As she glanced over it, her bosom rose and fell, her eyes brightened and tears. To hide her trouble, she rose and left the room. Meanwhile, Munster evinced similar surprise and consternation. He bit his lips as he read his letter, and passed his bund nervously through his hair. Then, with a significant look, he p.is -ed the letter to his wife. who. reading it, iu her turn became similarly troubled. As he passed the letter to her somethingdropped rustling to the floor, and Munster, looking rather red, stooped and picked it up. It was a curiously printed paper, and looked like the note of some foreign bank. Breakfast was finished—school began —hut Madeline did not appear. Munster still looked fidgety and annoyed. As for myself, I was torn by sensations to which my lifo had been hitherto a stranger. I felt on the brink of a precipice, down which all that I held dear was disappearing. I could not eat, I could not say my tasks, l could not think. W hat was going to happen?

I asked myself wildly again and again. At two o'clock, when we were summoned to dinner, no sight of But by this time some hintof the truth was forcing itself upon me. A whisper had passed round the school—Madeline Graham is going away! > - Going away? Whither? To that far-distant, that mysterious land whence she had come, and whither I might never follow her? Going away for ever! Passing westward, and taking with her all that made my young life beautiful and happy. Could this be? I shall never forget the agony of that day. I have had blows since, but none harder. I have felt desolation since, but none deeper. After school, I hung around the Bouse, haunted every, spot where she might be expected to,appear. I yearned to hear the truth from her own lips. I paced to and fro like a criminal awaiting his sentence. I could not bear the sjght of the other hoys, but kept to the secret places, moody aud distracted. Quite late in the evening. I wancei-ed into the garden—a favorite resort, of ours. The sun had sunk, but his j slowly fading light was still tinting the quiet place, and the shadows of trees and bushes were still distinct upon the ground-—' ■ ; I had not been here long when I heagd the foot I know, and, turning 1 behold my little friend hastening towards me. She was pale, but otherwise composed, and said at once: “Have you hea/d that lam going away?” I stammered something, I know not what; it must have beep inaudible. I had a sharp, choking sensation, and drooped ray looks from hers.""” —t- have just got a letter from my father. I am to go back home immediately. See! So saying, she placed in my hand the small enclosure which she had received from Munster in the morning. Seeing my puzzled look, she exclaimed: “You may read it,” I didread it. in one quick, painful glance. 1 remember every word of it now- It was written in a large, bold hand, and ran as follows: “Mr Darling.Littlk Madeline. —You will hear from the good people with whom you are living that a great ehange has taken place, and that you must come home tit otjee. With a kind good-bye to all your friends in England; perhaps you may never see them again. Come without delay toyour loving father, Rode kick Graham.

Prepared as I had been for the blow, it did not fall so heavily as it might have done. I struggled with my feelings, and choked down a violent tendency to cry. She perceived .my constornation. and was herself moved. But there was a quick, strange light in her eyes, as if she was contemplating something -faraway. ‘T have prayed many a night thatiny father would send for me," she said thoughtfully; and now he has done so, 1 scarcely feel glad . lam afraid there is something wrong at home. Shall yon be sorry, Hugh, when f go?” At this open question I broke down utterly, and burst into a violent sob. She puj her hands in mine, and looked earnestly into my’face. * I thought you \vouldbe sorry. None of them will miss me so much as you. We have been great friends; I never thought I could be such friends with a boy, I shall teiJ my father pf you, and he will like you, too. Will you kiss me, Hugh, and say good-bye?” I could not answer for tears; but I put my arms round her neck, and I did kiss her—a pure, true, loving boy’s kiss, worth a million of the kisses men buy or steal in the broad world. My tears moistened her cheek as 1 did so, but she did not cry herself. In the midst of my agony, I found words to inquire how soon our dreaded parting was to take place. What was my astonishment to hear that she was going to leave Munster’s at once. “There is a ship to sail in two days, and I must go away to Liverpool tomorrow, early in the morning. My poor father! There is, something vei y wrong indeed, and it will be many a week before we meet, though the ship should sail ever so fast. ”

As I write, recollection darkens, the sun sinks behind the little garden: tne little” shape fades away, and it is dark night. I seem to remember no more. But what is this that gleams up before me? -- ; —— It is the faint grey light of dawn. I have been in a very disturbed sieup. and am awakened by a harsh sound in the distance. It is the sound of carriage wheels. I start up; it is daylight. I hear a hum of voices in ihe house below. Without awakening any o' m companions in the room, 1 creep to the window, and look out. A travelling carriage stands at the door, and a sleepy eytd coachman yawns on the box. Hush! yonder from the house porch comes Mrs. Munster, an I by her shii tho little figure that l love. Tho proud spirit is bid'.on tbi morning, and the little eyes look s fi and wet. Madeline clings to her pro tectross. and nods adieu to the servants, who flock around to bid lie farewell. The coachman cracks his whip, the horses break into a'trot, the little out leans out, and waves her handled ch ic: until the carriage rounds the cqrm r. and is hid from view. Madeline! Little Madeline! I have fallen upon ray fence: by bedside, and am passionately kissing the lock of hair I begged from her lanight. My heart seoms breaking. A 1 the world has grown dark for me in ; moment. To what, new trouble L this that I am about to waken, nor ' that the one star of my life’s dav, n h. : faded away? [TO BE CONTINUED.]

FARM AND GARDEN.

In a wet season seed potatoes cut some days prior to planting and allowed to dry out some what will best resist rot. In a dry season the seed should be' freshly cut and planted while containing the maximum amount of moisture. ? The reason why it is better to spread manure in ibe fall than in the spring is becaush the soluble parts are then carried into and incorporated with the soil through the fall and winter, and are in readinecsjtojlend their aid to'the very first growth of spring. The. principal district for growing the famous Newton pippins is along the Hudson river, in the vinoinity of Newburg. They are also grown extensively, sometime under the of the Albemarle pijfein, in the Piedmont region of Virginia and in the uplands of North Carolina. The most northern peach region of any importance lying eastef the Sierra Hkvadas is that in the state of Michigan, along the east side of the lake of the same name. This oxtends as far north as 45 degrees, and is one of the most noted and profitable peach districts of the United Stated. A narrow tire wears out a road twice as fast as a heavy. There is no law which will compel a man to use a “broan tire, but toll reads could work a revolution in this matter if they would graduate their tolls according to the width of the lire, and such a discrimination would be wholly just; as the man who wears out the road should pay for it. Vegetables are tenderest whpn most rapid in growth. maturing late are likely to be tough and usually scarce, nor would we consider them as healthful. That farmer is fortunate who has some means of irrigation on his farm to push his garden and his fields in time of lack of moisture.

The strawberry growers about Centralia, 111., during the last season handled their crop through a local fruit-raisers’ association and saved in expence about 5 cents a case over former years. On the crop of 53,436 cases this amounted to $2.171.90. Cooperation can be applied to almost every branch of agriculture, from buying the seed to selling the crop, and in every branch—labor, transportation, etc— with almost unfailing good results. “In unionAfaere is strength” is a motto that is being practically applied by our leading manufactures to-day, and agriculturists should not be slow to take the hint. A row of shade trees is often desired along the edge of a cultivated field, especially if the field borders upon the highway, but an objection to it is that it injures the adjacent crops. The injury is done by the roots of the trees rather than by their shade, as the same soil can not well nourish two crops at the same time. To remedy this, and yet to have botfh the trees and the crop, dig a trench along the row, inside the field, say two and a half feet d'eep. This will sever the tree roots upon that side, without any serious injury to their growth. Fill in the trench, and the ground may then be successfully cultivated with almost -any crop, In a pecuniary point of view the profession of the farmer seems to grow less and less profitable. Because of this his lands are rated at a less value than formerly. It is harder work to meet taxes and debts, to sustain credit, and most of ail, to maintain an exact and perfect procedure in work. Though there De more than one reason for this, doubtless the chief one is that the land has become less fertile, What is to be done? There is necessarily a confusion in the mind of the general farmer over all that is said in regard to fertilizing and fertilizers. The majority can not grasp the question scientifically, and, therefore, not intelligently. As a rule, to follow the best of his counsellors would require more time or work or outlay than he could afford. Are there any means of relief that are simple or inexpensive? What is the best manna? <if fertilizing at a minimum cost? A contributor to the agricultural columns of one of our exchanges gives the subject a thorough overhauling. He clearly indicates means that are simple; effective and cheap, and certainly deserves not our contempt. The whole story is—clover and sod. Chemically they furnish us more nitrogen, potash and phosphoric acid than stable manure or bone dust, and. in fact, furnish elements that chemical and mineral fertilizers do not. The soil needs a large supply of vegetable growth or organio matter. Barnyard manure can not be applied as cheaply as prepared fertilizer, nor in sufficient quantities to give the requisite dressing to all the , cultivated fields. After hi 9 comparison j of real values he shows plainly that j the fertilizing power in good clover sod, together with the root values deep down in the Boil,—the chemical and vegetable agents—is far more thaD we usually measure it. The vegetable matter makes porous the soil and fits it for holding moisture. The sod also favors tho taking up of nitrogen, which the soil so much needs. The sod protects from wash and waste. Its effect is not lost in one season. He ends up by wondering that sod is not appreciated more as a fertilizer, even though the others aro in the market | and ready to use on short notice.

A Mermaid on Exhibition.

Within the last few hours there has been added to t the marine collection at the Brighton aquarium a specimen of the manatee, or “sea oow,” 'tfhidh is tho nearest representative of the mermaid of tradition. These rare specimens seldom reach our shores, the difficulties Of transit being so great. The last one known to have been brought to this country was purchased

by the Zoological society, and cd immense attention from naturalists’ and the public. Its decease was recorded quite recently. The present specimen has been imported from! Trinidad Manatee is fo*u* feet sfr inches in length, and feeds principally upon lettuce.

SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY.

Geneva, N. Y., moulders struck. Fresno, Cal., bricklayers struck. Ceylon coolies lives on $1 a month. California Chinamen won a strike. Syracuse and Utica tailors are out. New York has women watchmakers. Cincitfhati brewers talk of organizing. The olty of Toronto will run the street cars. • aPennsylvania mines half Uncle Sam’s coal. Labor s libraries and reading rooms are increasing, Mahoning Valley, 0., miners are out for an advance. London unionists have been assessed $5 a man for strike. Boston cigar makers sent SI,OOO to the Binghamton strikers. First grade cooks of St. Paul get SIOO a month; second, $75; third, SSO. One of the most excellent of the recent innovations is the introduction of metal ceilings in place of wood and plaster. These ceilings do not shrink or burn like woefa; they will not stain, crack, or fall off like plaster, but; being permanent, durable, fire-proof, and ornamental, will eventually' supersede, both wood and plaster, besides being; in the end far more economical thani either. A suggestive use of photography has been recently made. Landscape features are photographed here and there, figures being posed to fit the theme; the different parts are then col*! lected into an effective group and the assembled group are rephotographed ; to form one complete picture. Some-' thing of this kind has been done byi artists in cycloramic painting, tho different views being grouped together! in sections and painted on the canvas in connected groups to form a complete representation of a vast stretch of landscape. Until lately cotton waste has bedn cleaned and reused hut the grease exs tracted from it has been thrown away., It is now found that the oil thus extracted can be made, after very simple treatment, to yield fir3t-class printing ink. A ton of this spent waste will yield about fourteen hundred pounds of oil, from which ink of a Superior, quality can be manufactured at a very reduced price. The cotton waste is placed in steam chambers, and a solus tion of bisulphate of carbon is pumped into the vessels. This disengages the oil and grease, which is then passed into a series of heated coppers, from, which it emerges as varnish, Irom! which the printing ink is made. ;

A traveler on the London & North-: western railway, while going south-! ward from Edinburgh by the West, Coast route, states that noticing the great speed of the train he took the trouble to reckon what it was. In the snace of six miles he found that It averaged eighty miles an hour. He was, sitting in a compartment of an eight-j wheeled coach weighing about nineteen! tons, and notwithstanding the extra-' ordinary speed there was an entire ) absence of oscillation, and both the, carriage and the permanent way are; described as being in a state of per-, section. So far as any motion of the carriage was concerned it was impossible for thd passenger to tell whether! he was going at the rate of eighty j miles an hour or eighteen. In the sham fight at Portsmouth Ini honor of the Emperor William an ad- j vancing column was so affected by the j. fumes of the smoke-ball whioh was; used to raise a cloud of impenetrable; obscurity under which they could ad* vance that the men had to keep their hands to their noses to avoid suffocation. It is now proposed that tho smoke-ball shall receive a further development. It has occurred to some military men that instead of half-suffo-cating their own troops it would bo better to follow the exam)?! 0 of the Chinese pirates with their stinkpots, j and asphyxiate the enemy. A Vienna| scientist has accordingly invested a, bomb of such power and virulence; that every one who is within a certain j radius of it when it explodes is ren-j dered unconscious. Devices such as these would soon modify the art of j war, and probably the next develop- j ment will be an anti-asphyxiating' bomb whose fumes will neutralize those, of the other - It is said that many' years ago a scheme based on the, throwing of poisonou s gases over) a tract of country was put before the ! war office in England for the purpose j of devastating the country in tho face l of an invading army, but the agency ! employed was so terrible in its effect j that it was not made public and was l consigned to the secret records of the, war office.

A Triumph of Art.

••There ip one very dramatic situation in my new play. It is whore the mortgage on the old farm is foreclosed and the hero can’t pay it off.” “Does it affect the audience much?” ••Oh, my! Why,last night a millionaire in one of the boxes was so affected that he wrote out a check for $lO,000 and sent it up to pay off the mortgage and get the hero out of difllculs ties.”

Sateity.

“Parted, have they? I cannot Imagine how ho won her in the first place-" / | “O, he wrote verses and he read them to her.” “And then he lost her—* j •'Same way.”