Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 67, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 May 1900 — Page 6

The Swamp Secret

Copyright. IS!M. by Robert Bonner's Sous. CHAPTER XXL—(Continued.) “Samanthyl” she called in a low, excited whisper. "Samanthy!” "What’s wanted?” asked Samanthy from the kitchen. "Come here.” said Nannie. "Be quick!” "What's up now?" demanded Samanthy. coming to the pantry door. "Can't you find'the hops? They’re ——" “The barn door's open. 1 do believe, somebody's after fnclv Ezra's horses," said Nannie. ■•“ Look and see- I’m not mistaken.” “Good Lord”’ cried Samanthy. running to the window. “ 'Tis so, true's you're alive! Nancy Boone it’s hoss thieves, ye can d'pend on it! They thought we was all off to mootin', 'n' they'd hev clear sailin’!" "Oh. what'll we do?" cried Nannie. "Do yon think it would 'em if we •creamed?" ”I'll scare ’em," said Samanthy, grimly and "Jest keep as still as an' h’ist that winder about two inches. Be spry about it, too.” Nannie knew that any plan of action Samanthy might decide*on would be wiser and more effective than tiny she might propose, so without stopping to ask questions. she raised the window, as direct«d, while Samanthy was in the kitchen. She came back with Mr. Porter's old musket. “Oh!" almost shrieked Nannie. "You •aren't going to shoot them, are you?” “I be es I can,” replied Samanthy. "1 -don't expect to hit nothin' ’cept the side ■o’ the barn, but es I don't 'twon't be my fault. If I don't hit, mebbe l'll scare ’em." She thrust the muzzle of the gun the opening-, mid waited, Presently she fancied that she saw ■something moving back in the shadow with which the barn seemed to be tilled. .It was impossible to make out whether it was a man or uot, but it was safe to •conclude that it must be, for the door would not have been open bad human .agency not been exerted on it. “Hol' yer breath," whispered Samanthy, bracing her feet and shutting her •eyes. "I'm goin’ to pull the trigger.” - There was a second of awful silence, then a report that would have done credit to a small cannon, and Samanthy measlUred her length on the floor. “Land o’ goodness! How it kicked!” ;groaned the prostrate damsel. “1 reckon I’d ortcr p’inted it t’other way.” At the barn there had been a quick, -sharp cry from the shadow in the doorway, a frightened oath from another inside, and then a man staggered and fell across the log sill, with a red stream of blood spurting from his breast. “Are you bit?” cried the other, coming to his side and attempting to raise him to Ids feet. “Yes,” was the husky answer, "i guess I’m done for at last. Don’t stay here. You can’t do any good if you do. They won’t hang me after 1 m dead. Make tracks, partner.” “But I can’t leave you in this fix,”,, said the other. “You may not be hurt as bad as you think. Couldn’t you walk by leaning on me? Try it.” “It’s ao use,” was the reply. "I'm •shot through the body. Run for it if you want to save your neck.” His companion hesitated. It seemed too cowardly to leave a wounded comrade like this, even if remaining at his aide could afford him no help. A hoarse rattle in the throat of the wounded man decided him. ? “Well, then, good-by, old fellow,'’ he, ■said, putting out his hand and touching' the other’s arm at parting. "I’d stay if 1 could help you, if I hung for it,” he added, still wavering between a desire to be loyal to an old companion in crime and a longing to seek personal safety. The only answer was a gurgling sound in the throat of the dying man. He knew knew that his’companion’s life was ending, and he sprang over his body and fled into the darkness. "I reckon I’ve convinced ’em we wa'n’t all away from hum,” said Samanthy, struggling to her feet. ”I’ll bet I’ll be black’n blue to-morrer from the kickin' o' that gun. I never see nothin’ like it.” "Are you hurt much?” asked Nannie, beginning to recover from her fright. "Not seri'us, I guess,” replied Samanthy, “Supposen you look out an’ see es you can see anything.” Nannie went to the window just in time to see the man running toward the cornfield. “One’s running,” she answered. "And, oh, Samanthy"—with a frightened quaver in her voice—“there's something lying in the barn door that looks as if it might be a man! Oh, Samanthy, what if it should lie! What will you do if you've killed him?”

“Sha’n't wear mournin’ for him,” said I Samanthy, beginning to feel queer, as I she afterward related this part of the story to her friends. "I wouldn’t like to know I'd killed somelxidy, but es 'twas a boss thief, soinebody'd orter kill him, an' I dunno but it mought as well be ane’s anybody else.” “We ought to let Uncle Porter know,” •said Nannie. "Oh, ly "I wouldn’t wonder in the least if ' they’d got our horses too." “Like's not,” said Samanthy. "Es y off'll go right down an’ let ’em know what's happened, I’ll stay here and keep watch.” “Oh. I wbuldn't dare to!” cried Nannie. ‘What if I* met one of the horsethieves?” “Then you stay here, an' I’ll go,” said Samanthy. “Let's both go," said .Nannie. "It wouldn't .do any good .for one of us to -«tay here while the other was gone.” To this plan Samanthy assented, and they set off on a run for the camp-meet-ing grounds. “It cured my toothache, anyway," said Samanthy. "I declare't was luck I had It. wa'nt it? It sent me hum at jest the right time. Es we ’d ’a’ b’en five mintttes later, they’d ’a’ b’en gone with the Bossea.” . Sir. Porter was in the midst of a stirring exhortation when the two women reappeared at the camp-meeting. Bamanthy went up to him and gave his arm a twitch. “You'd better come hum," she whin

pered. ‘‘There's trubble to the barn. Hoss-thieves, 1 rcck'n!" CHARTER XXII. Mr. Porter broke off his exhortation very abruptly, and joined Mr. Boone, to whom Nannie had gone with the news of what had happened. It was evident to all. from the action and mariner of the women, that something unusual had taken place, and a crowd soon gathered about them, for information. Samanthy told all there was to tell in as few words as possible.' Five minutes later the services of the evening were declared ended, and the entire congregation set off for Mr. Porter’s. "Did you say Samanthy shot one?” asked Rhoda, coming up to where Nannie stood, with her mother mid Mrs. Porter. "Oh, dear!" Isn't It dreadful! ’"I sha’n’U sleep a wink to-night- tbitiking of--it."-- - "Neither shall I," said Nannie. “1 haven’t got the sound of that gun out of iny ears yet. It doesn’t seem to me, as if I ever would. Come home with me, Rhoda. Your aunt will have plenty of company, and won’t need you. Do gome,' please! 1 can’t -bear to think of staying alone,- and you haven't stayed with me in a long time.” Rhoda consented, and the party folJawetL the, men from the camp ground. It was a crowd"of stern-faced men that gathered about the barn a few minqtes later. “She hit one, sure enough,” said the foremost settler, as he paused at the open stable doar»- "He's hurt party bad, or dead, I reckon, judgin’ from the blood.” “Lift him up,” said Mr. Boone. "Mebbe he’s fainted.” Two men stepped forward- and attempted to lift the figure in the doorway. "He’s dead,* said one of them, after partially raising the body. “Neighbors, there’s one less horse thief in this world,” he added, solemnly, yet not, without a sound of satisfaction in his voice. There was a moment of deep silence in the crowd. The presence of death kept down the demonstration of the excitement that every man felt. Just then Wayne came up, in company with brie “of the ministors. "We heard you had caught a horse thief, and came to gratify a curiosity to see what one of the animals looked like,” he said, with a laugh. But Mr. Boone fancied that he detected an uneasy sound in the speaker’s voice, and that the laugh which accompanied the words seemed forced and unnatural. "We have,” said Mr. I’orter. holding his lantern so that the light of it fell full upon the dead man’s face. Wayne started back with a frightened exclamation. He stood for a moment and looked upon the ghastly sight, then turned away with a shudder that he could not hide and walked towafd the house. "The wrath of God smites the transgressor,” said the minister, solemnly. “May he have mercy ou this poor sinner’s soul! Let us pray.” And kneeling by the dead, among an awe-struck coriipany which stood with bared, bowed heads, the good man prayed, and the sound of his voice was all that broke the Silence until “Amen!” was said. A hasty consultation was held concerning the disposal to be made of the body. Before it was concluded, Mr. Boone came hurraing up with the news that his horses were gone. "I tell you what it is, men,” said one ! of the settlers, as he listened to the tidings, “es we ever git track o’ the thieves, we’ve got to do it now. Them with Boone’s horses can’t have more’n an hour’s start of us. an’ it seems as if they must ha’ left some track behind. This”—pointing to the body in the doorway—“ ’ll be quite likely to put an end to their performances in this neighborhood for a spell, anyway, an’ we don’t want ’em to git away if it’s possible to find ’em. We’ve hunted for ’em high ’n’ low, an’ hunted' thurrer, but we hain’t got on to the right trail fer some reason or another. We hain’t never found out what they’d done so soon after they’d did it as we hev this time. Es we turn out an’ s’arch as es we meant bisness, I can’t help feelin’ ’s es we could get some track of ’em. It seems so, anyway. An’ I go in fer makijf such a hunt as we’ hain’t made yit, though I don’t know’s we l can be a bit more thurrer’n we hev b’en. But we can try, anyhow; an’ es we do find any signs of ’em, we can foller ’em up es we git right at it an’ don’t waste no time. What say, neighbors?”

A hearty murmur of assent went over the crowd. Lights were procured, and a close examination of the pretnises about Mr. Boone’s barn began. “Here’s their tracks plain's day,” declared Bill Green, as eager for the pursuit of horse thieves now as he had been an hour ago for pardon of his sins, “1 feel’s es we was goin' to fetch ’em this time. I do so!” An hour later there was unbroken quiet where, so short a time before, there had been so much excitement. They were on the trail of the horse thieves at last. Hid been placed il on the morhen the lights lire on track of ito faint glimnally dwindled 1 then seemed if the night, rter’s the women ana ministers were talking ovrir the exciting events of the evening. Wayne had retired. The clock struck one. “I declare,” exclaimed Mrs. Boone, ”l’d no idee 'twas so late! Come, Mis’ Holdredge, let’s be goin’, or we sha’n't git any rest to-night, an’ 1 feel clear beat out.” Mrs. Holdredge was a visitor from “down below,” whom Mrs. Boone had invited home with her from camp meeting. “Are you ready, Nannie?” asked Mrs. Boone, as she and Mrs. Holdredge rose to go. “You can go on, mother, and Rhoda and I’ll come right along,” responded Nannie. “I .want to see Samanthy a minute.” Mrs. Boone ae l her friend took their

departure, and Nannie called Samanthy into the pantry for consultation. “Dick ought to know what’s happened,” said Nannie. "It may be that the knowledge of it would be of great advantage to him. Hadn't I better write a few- • lines and put them .in the hollow tree? He’ll find them to-morrow, if he’s, already been there to-night.” “I reckon ’twould be a good idee,” said Samanthy. / So Nannie tore a blank lleaf out of the front part of a hymn book and hurriedly wrote a few lines, explaining the condition of affairs. / “I'll leave it there on my way Home,” she said. “Good night, Samanthy. I’m ■ glad I iliilnTshoot that man. but. I don't think you did wrung. Nobody does.” "Neither du I,” said Samanthy. "But I 'do feel awful curi’s over it somehow!'. He desarved it, but—l’d rather some one else ’d did it. But it’s done, and can’t be helped: an’ I dunno’s I’m sorry or hev any call tu be. Mought jest‘as well be me tu du it as anybody else, as I said afore; but— Nannie and Rhoda took their departure, and Samanthy went to her room and went to bed, but not to sleep. The face of the dead than alone in the barn seemed before her constantly. She was honest with herself when she said that she felt she had done right, and yet the thought that a man had conic'to death by her act was anything but a pkarsttrrt otic. -—-—-- v ; ~ “He desarved it,” she kept saying to herself,” but I’d ruther somebody else had did it.” CHAPTER XXIII. ‘‘■Rhoda,” Nannie, when they were half way to Mr. Boone’s, “will you wait hare a minute while I go down the road just a little way? I’ll be back in no time. Some time I’ll tell you all about it.” “Yes, I’ll stay,” said Rhoda, rather reluctantly, and greatly wondering what Nannie's errand l could be in that direc-.-tion, at that time of night. . “I’ll be right back,” said Nannie r -as she hurried away. “Don't be afraid, Rhoda.” “N—no.” responded Rhoda, feeling more that she wits afraid, in spite of her assurance’ to the contrary. She sat down on a log behind a clump •of bushes to await Nannie’s return.

The moon, which had been partially obscured, came out from behind a cloud, and looking toward Mr. Porter’s, she saw that the window in the gable of the house was raised and a man was leaning out. As she saw this she became conscious of a sound xyhich she vaguely remembered to have heard, before, since leaving Mr? Porter’s —the call of a night bird. But as she listened to it now, tiere seemed to be something peculiar about it, which she had never noticed in the call before. It was given three times. Then the forest- from which it came was silent again. Looking toward Mr. Porter's, she saw that the man who had been looking out of tlie window, apparently listening, was now climbing out upon the roof of the shed. "It must be the singing teacher,” she thought. “But what can he be getting out of the. house in that' way for?” The man she was watching dropped lightly to the ground from the shed roof, and came toward the road. Then he leaped the fence and came directly toward the spot where she was hidden. “What shall I do?” thought Rhoda, frightened half to death, “I don’t dare run, and I don’t dare scream. Oh, if Nannie would only come back!” Being so badly frightened, she did nothing but shrink back closer into the screening shadow of the bush behind which she was sitting. Then she heard steps coming from the opposite direction. Evidently Mr. Wayne had come to meet some one, and his visitor was approaching. The two men met' in the sheltering shadow of an old cottonwood, not fifteen feet away from where the frightened girl was crouching, her heart beating such a tattoo against her ribs that it seemed to her they must hear it. “Is that you, Number Five?” asked Wayne. “Yes, it’s me.” was the reply. "It’s been a bad night for us, captain.” "Yes, it has been a bad night for us,” responded Wayne. “Number Six has got through with his troubles.” “They got away all right with the horses from the other place,” said the man called Number Five. “They’re hot after us, but I think we’ll be able to throw them off the scent, after all. When do we leave the swamp, captain? It’s getting to be almost too hot for us in this vicinity, and the sooner we're out of it the better 1 shall be satisfied.” “I will join you to-morrow night, an'd* we will leave at once,” replied Wayne. “See that everything is in readiness for a start as soon as I arrive. How many horses are there in all?” “Six,” was the reply. “That is, there will be six if they succeed in running in those they got away with to-night There’s the two from Deer Creek, the two from the crossroads, and to-night’g haul.”” "One apiece for us, since Number Six has thrown up his hand,” said Wayne. "That' won’t be so bad, after all, if we get them out of the swamp all right. It’s a lucky thing that we hit upon the Big Swamp for a hiding place. They have an idea, about here, that it's impossible to I get a horse into it, so they haven’t thought of looking there for us. I’oor Number Six! . I’m sorry to leave him behind. see —the plan of taking the horses down the creek from the road till it kot deep enough to take them into the swamp ou a raft originated with him, didn’t it? I wish he were going with us, but I suppose it was his fate to be shot, and fate’s something none of us can get away from, I take it.” “It’ll be beginning to grow light soon,” said the other. “I think I’d better be on the move. You’ll be there to-morrow night, then?” "I’U be there by midnight' if nothing happens,” said Wayne. “Have everything packed and in readiness to leave as soon as I join you. Do you know, where the settlers are making their search tonight?” ' • !f - - “Some of them have gone up the creek;-” was the reply. “Our men took the horses into the thick weeda at the edge of the marsh, up the road, and from that into the creek, and then down stream and across the road; and if the settlers come on any trucks it’ll puzzle them to tell which way we went, for it’s hard to tell which way tracks point in a marsh and running water. I hardly think they’ll get on the right scent before we’re «*fs-

ly out of the country, if we leave tomorrow night.” “Well, take care of yourself,” said Wayne. “I’ll be on hand by midnight, sure. Good night. Number Five.” "Good night, captain,” responded the other . ——J- , Then they separated, one going back to the house and the other into the woods. Rhoda wondered if she was really awake. "She could hardly credit the evidence of her senses. j "So Wayne's the leader of the gang of horse thieves!” said she to herself, in a frightened whisper. "And I’ve found out the whole-thing! Dear ine! It scares me to think of it. It don’t seem as If it could-bo possible! I must have dreamed it! - Where can Nannie be all this time? I wish she could have been here and heard it all!” (To be continued.)

A Kaffir “Smoker.”

In South Africa the native woman smokes incessantly. Your native servant smokes as slie°cpoks and as she washes. The tobacco she likes is rank. The dainty cigarette’an English *oF Russian lady of fashion enjoys, smoked through a quill, so that no nicotine can stain either teeth or fingers, would be sneered at by a Kaffir. "Give me a pipe and '->methingjii_.it lcan taste,” is in effect what she says. The men Kaffirs arc beyond tobacco. They smoke something so vehement that it makes them cough and splutter, lose their breath, choke and sneeze to hn, alarming degree. They like stuff, too, and are fond of offering and taking pinches of it ("schniff" they call it) when they meet and visit one another. Regarding tobacco as too mild for their taste, the Kaffirs take another weed and smoke that..' They proceed to arrange a smoking party by squatting ou the ground and getting ready their "pipe," a cow horn with a thin tube in it inserted halfway down at right angles tothe horn. The end of the tube is in a basin, and it is from it that the smoker sucks the strong stuff that makes him incapable of anythingbut a series of coughs and chokes for some time after he has had his turn at the pipe, which is passed around from man to man, until a perfect chorus of coughs rends the air. The tobacco the Boers smoke looks like poor tea, and is peculiar in flavor, yet Englishmen who. have, become used to it acquire such a taste for it that they never ask for any other kind.— London Daily Mail.

Ready for Duty.

J. W. Scherer, in his "Daily Life During the Indian Mutiny," says that when the rains fell, bringing with them fever and cholera, the horrors of the campaign were, of course, redoubled. When the outbreak came, some men, holding isolated positions until the last moment of safety, were compelled to flee through almost incredible difficulties and dangers. One man, Mowbray Thomson, when interrogated about the hardships he had undergone, spoke of them with the utmost simplicity, as if they were ordinary circumstances, to be looked for in "the day’s work” of life. “Some years after a London banker, sitting next me at dinner, began talking about Thomson, and asked me if I had ever met him. I told him that I had seen.him every day, for a year or two. “Well,” said he, "I met him once in London, and I shall never forget an answer he made to a question of mine.” “What was the question?” “I asked him, ‘When you got once more among your countrymen, and the whole terrible thing was over, what on earth was the first thing you did?” “ ‘Did!’ cried he. ‘Why, I went and reported myself as present and ready for duty!’ ”

Protection for Soldiers.

A Western woman inventor, who devised the fireproof helmet for firemen, urges the government to adopt a small skull cap and a breastplate, arm piece and thigh pieces of aluminium, painted the same color as the uniform. The weight is inconsiderable, and when properly’ made it will turn a rifle bullet up to a very short distance. The metal is now down to less than 50 cents a pound, and a complete outfit would not weigh more than five pounds. The saving of life and limb would more than repay the cost of a thousand times over. The same metal, she says, should be employed for canteens, rifle stocks, knapsack frames, flagstaffs, drum frames and tent poles.

One Ahead.

Mrs. A. was having one of her houses cleaned, preparatory to letting it to a new tenant. Assisting her was a “cleaner,” who proved to be very inefficient. Finding a room which was supposed to be in order still very dirty, Mrs. A. swept it herself. Then she said to Bridget, whom she met in the hall: “Why, Mrs. Ryan, I thought you said you had swept the front room, and here I have got a whole dustpan full of dirt out of it.” Nothing disconcerted, Bridget responded with a beaming smile: “Did ye now, ma'am? I got two.”

Why Boiling Water Bubbles.

Boiling water bubbles because the vapor rising through the water is confined and forces up bubbles In Its effort to escape. All the air of water is expelled at the commencement of its boiling. Sugar and salt retard the process of boiling because they increase the density of the water, and whatever Increases the density of a fluid retards its boiling. Cuteness In a child develops into downright Impudence as thd years roll byA gruff old bachelor always looks under the head of marriage notices for ■ news of thq weak. If a man has a good memory he Is able to forget judiciously.

STATE CONVENTION RESULTS.

OHIO. For Secretary of Stale 1 Lewis C. Laylln For Supreme Judge John A. Sehauck Fur Board of Public Works...V. A. Goddard For State School Couiiulssloner, For, Dairy ifrid "Food Commissioner, J. E. Blackburn Delegates-at-Large.. .Joseph B. Foraker, George K. Nash, Charles Dick, Charles Grosvenor, Alteruates-at-Large.. .Charles Foster, .Myron O. Morris, IV. C. Brown. George A. Myers, Electors-at-I.arge Myron T. Herrick, IV. I’. Orr. INDIANA; • Governor—W. T. Durbin, of Anderson. Lieutenant Governor—N. A. Gilbert, of Angola. Reporter of the Supreme Court—Charles F. Remy, of Columbus. Secretary of State-Vuion B. Hunt, of Winchester. Auditor of State—lV. H. Hart, of Frankfort. Treasurer of State—Leopold Levy, of Huntington. Attorney General—W. L. Taylor, of Indianapolis!. Superintendent of Public Instruction — Frank L. Jones, of Tipton. Judges of the Supreme Court —Fourth District, Leander J. Monks, of Winchester; First District, James H. Jordan, of Martinsvllft. „ State Statistician —John B. Conner, of Indianapolis. Delegates-at-Large .to National Conven-tion-Senator Charles IV. Fairbanks, Senator A. J. Beveridge, Gov. James Mount and Charles S. Henly. WISCONSIN. Delegates-at-Large.. .Joseph T. Treat, H. August Luedke, Isaac Stephenson, James H. Stout, Aiternates-at-Large.. .C. H. Baxter, • A. J. Frame, John L. Erdahl, N. C; Foster, Electors-at-Large Atley Peterson, A. G. Weissert. PENNSYLVANIA. For Auditor General F. B. Hardenberg For Congressmen-at-Large.Galnsha A. Grow R. E. Foerderer Delegates-at-Large.. .Matthew S. Quay, C. A. Porter, James Elverson, B. W. Green. J. H. Lelsenrlng, William Connell, J. B. Steele.

Keynotes o r the Platforms. OHIO. ■ Strongly indorses the administration of President McKinley and demands for him another term. Sustains the President and Congress in legislation enacted for the country’s foreign possessions, and advocates for them material advantages*, in the way of schools, security for life, liberty and property, and the “largest degree of self-gov-ernment for which they are fitted.” Approves of the treaty of Paris, especially that part of it providing for the purchase of the Philippines. Declares there must be no “turning back” in the treatment of the latter islands. Extends thanks to Senators Hanna and Foraker and the Republican members of Congress from Ohio for their loyalty to the President. INDIANA. Indorses all the acts of Congress, including those regarding “our new possessions,” without specifically mentioning Porto Rican legislation. Warmly indorses the administration of President McKinley, declaring he should be re-elected. ’ Declares strongly in favor of the policy of expansion. Reaffirms the St. Louis platform, especially the money plank. • Condemns trust's and asks for legislation to control them. PENNSYLVANIA. Indorses President McKinley’s administration and instructs delegates to Philadelphia to vote for his renomination. Recommends the election ot Matthew S. Quay to the United States Senate, by the next Legislature. Recommends election of United States Senators by direct vote of the people. WISCONSIN. Expresses gratification at the recent financial legislation by Congress. Reaffirms ’the St. Louis platform and declares it needs no alteration. Indorses the administration of President McKinley and declares the Republican party can be trusted to solve the problems growing out of the Spanish war.

PAINTER COL’S QUEER CLIENT.

How He Induced the Artist to Paint a Dead Man’s Portrait. A new' story is being told in Europe about David Col, the Antwerp painter, Who died recently. As he was at work in his studio one day many years ago there entered a farmer, who requested him to paint his father’s portrait. The artist, not being overburdened with wealth at that time, gladly agreed to do the work, and said that he would be pleased to see the old gentleman at any time. Thereupon the farmer said, mournfully: “Oh, you can’t see him, sir, for he’s dead.” “Then how. on earth do you expect me to paint his portrait?” asked the artist, with a sigh. “Oh, you’re fooling me, str,” said the farmer. “Just tell me whose picture that is on the easel there.” “That is a portrait of St. Anthony,” was the answer. “Is that really St. Anthony?” “Yes.” “Did he sit to you?” “Of course not.” “Well, then, Isn’t that a clear proof t}iat you are able to make the portrait of a dead man?” Col, who wanted money badly, allowed himself to be persuaded by this novel argument, and therefore he obtained from the farmer as many particulars about the dead man as he could, and then, after making a sketch of the son, because be said that he closely resembled his father, he began work on the portrait. When It was finished he sent for the farmer and showed it to him. To his surprise the man fell on his knees and began to cry bitterly, his eyes meanwhile fixed od the portrait. Col flattered himself that he had made a lifelike portrait, and that it was the wonderful resemblance which caused the son to grieve so sorely. “Why do you cry so ia«ch?”he asked, trying to comfort him. “Oh, my dear sir,” was the unexpected reply, “I never thought that anyone could change' so much In such a short time. Dear me, how terribly ngly my poor father has become.” >

WASHINGTON GOSSIP

One of the most prominent figures in the political life of the national capital is Senator James K. .Jones of Arkansas

J. K. JONES.

sentatives in 1881. He served two terms in the lower house, and then was advanced to the Senate, of which he has been a member fourteen years. Senator Jones is a Mississippian by birth, but since boyhood has lived at Washington, Hempstead County, Ark. He served as a private in the Confederate army throughout the war, and at its close went back to the humble life of a planter. At the age of 34 he began the practice Of law and at the same time entered politics, being elected to the State Senate in 1873. He was president of that body during one term. - He has long been regarded as the most influential man in Arkansas politics. Four widows of revolutionary veterans are still on the pension roll, although the war of the revolution ended 120 years ago. They range in ago from 83 to 90. Seven daughters of revolutionary soldiers are still drawing pensions. Of the $69,000,000 which has been paid in revolutionary pensions $20,000,000 was drawn by widows. One pensioned survivor of the war of 1812 remains. He is Hiram Cronk, 99 years old, and his home is in northwestern New York. The last pensioned soldier of the revolution did not die until 1869. He was 109 years 6 months and 8 days old. He lived in Freedom, N. Y. More widows than soldiers of the war of 1812 were pensioned. In that war 296,916 soldiers starved sixty days or more. The pensioned were 30,000 soldiers and 35,000 widows. To the sole survivor of the war of 1812 the Government is now paying $193 a year, and to widows of that war $293,097. To Mexican veterans the payments now are sl,107,594, and to widows of Mexican war soldiers, $818,067. On the Union side the enlistments for the civil war were 2,778,394. Of these there died in service 349,.944. The pensions paid ,on account of the civil war amount to $2,300,000,000, and there are now on the pension rolls 991,519 veterans and widows. The pensioners who died last year numbered 14,066. At the rate the’veterans are dying, it is estimated, there will be a reduction of the pensions to $80,000,000 in the next fifteen years, a little more than one-half of the present annual appropriation. Since the present system of money was adopted in 1860 the United States has issued a grand total of $8,152,621,108 in United States notes, treasury notes, gold, silver and currency certificates and other forms of paper currency, of -which $7,250,683,489 has been presented for redemption, leaving outstanding $901,937,619. How much of this money is actually ' in circulation, and what proportion of it has been permanently lost, worn out or destroyed can only be conjectured. United States notes or greenbacks have been issued to the amount of $2,99-7,189,808 and $2,650,508,792 has been presented for redemption, leaving $346,681,016 outstanding. The latter sum is daily reported to be the amount of greenbacks in circulation, but, striking an average in the opinions of the treasury experts as to the amount lost and destroyed, the actual value of greenbacks outstanding is not more than $332,000,000, and is growing smaller every year. Speaker Henderson wears a wooden leg and uses a heavy walking stick. He was wounded at the battle of Shiloh, and the injured leg was cut off on the battlefield to save his life. The surgeons made a bad job of it, the wound never healed and the Speaker has lUkyi subjected to four operations upon the stump since, the last about two years ago,, On that occasion he declined to take ether and sat upon the operating table directing the surgeons. As the three former operations had been unsuccessful, he was determined that the fourth attempt should not fail and his supervision did not bring bad results, because the stump has troubled him less since the operation was performed. At the close of the last fiscal year there were 2,617 railway mail routes, of a total length of 176,726.95 miles, over which, the mail cars traveled that year 287,591,269.21 miles. The paid for the railway postofflee ears $4,175,724.86, and for the transportation of the mails $31,942,159.88, or a total to the railroads of $36,117,875.74, which was an average of cents per mile for transportation and postal cars combined, or cents a mile for the cars done. Congressman KiW the successor of Brigham H. Roberts of Utah, who was not permitted to take his seat in Congress on the ground that he was a bigamist, has undertaken to convince his colleagues that his predecessor should be recompensed for certain of his disbursements made in the endeavor to obtain his seat. The labor bureau has completed a very important investigation bearing upon the subject of trusts and the effect of the consolidation of industries upon wages. The results will be published in the July bulletin. Detailed and accurate information has been obtained of the variation in wages paid to the different trades from 1880 to the Ist of January, 1900. The report will be a very interesting and-valu-able contribution to the discussion now going on. Don’t get “tight" because money La

chairman of tbo Democratic national committee. Mr. Jones is regarded by his colleagues as a man of sound ideas, and great political sagacity. He is one of the veterans of Congress, having gone to Washington as a member of the House of Repre-