The Syracuse Journal, Volume 1, Number 18, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 27 August 1908 — Page 3

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) Here was another issue of Nemesis, the curse of another life through his coming back from the edge of the -water. In the crush of self-hate, he smiled at the woman. * * * Until a moment ago the wrecking work of the morning had put thoughts of Soronia from his mind. He - had come to the shop partly to marshal his final resources in an out-of-the-way spot and arrange the last line of action, and partly to avoid the possibility of arrest for the moment in case the Panther had brought an emissary of the law. His end was a matter of hours at best; his cruising and his friendship with Constable were over. Saint Pierre, of the lesser islands, was the last station of his traveling. During three days he had passed many hours in the shop. What those hours had accomplished was dramatically revealed now in the anguish of the maiden as she Waited for the answer to her question. “I have been thinking a great deal since yesterday. I found that I couldn’t do what I ' tried—at least; without seeing you‘again, Sonoria.” Breen spoke vaguely. He had sufficient honesty not to be deft with the forces ke was now employing. “The future, I cannot tell yet. I may have to leave Saint Pierre for awhile, but I shall leave my heart and if I live—l will come back I To-day I must see my friend and tell him that I cannot cruise farther south with him,” She’would have fallen had he not held her, but were shining. The old man ran for restoratives. Breen would have put the girl into a chair, but she clung to him. “I have waited for you so long,, my maker of pictures,” she whispered. Pere Rabeaut stood beside, them with medicines. The veneer of shop servitude was gone from the gray old face. The sharp black eyes were directed steadily upon the stranger, who saw that they Were ready to soften or burst into flame. ' Breen saw, tod, that he was less in the presence of the father of a creole girl o£ Martinique than the father of an oldworld household. “I am waiting for you to speak, monsieur.” said Pere Rabeaut. "You have not waited long, sir.” Breen answered. “It was just an instant ago that I had the honor of hearing from your daughter’s lips—that she would wait for me until I could come back permanently to Saint Pierre.” “I know you will forgive an old soldier of France. So many people do not understand —don’t try to - understand—- . that ! deemed it a privilege to marry .the mother, of the maid in your arms—not because a governor general of Martinique Was her fatlfer —-but because she was worthy the, worship of an old' soldier of. France. .The girl is like her -mother, monsieur.” h “It is an honor I do not deserve, sir—the daughter of a country woman of Josephine and. a soldier of France,” said Breen, grateful that one of his utterances contained or covered no lie. The bow from the veteran was a gracious thing. He held a glass to the lips of his daughter. “I do not need it now, father,” Soronia said softly. There was a knock at the door. The maid hastened to her room, and Pere Rabeaut, once more the master of the shop, greeted a gasping patron. Breen Was left to his thoughts, * * That Jkhicli he had done was unchangeable. “Nicholas Stembridge, rejoice I this is your wedding day!” he muttered. “What a time you’ve had. down the years ! You have lived long and freely, taking what you saw and daring. l consequences and prattling like a defective to keep up your .spirits! Nick, do you recall the prime -sentence of your philosophy—" There is nothing which Doctor Death cannotcure’? ’’lsn’t it a wonderful saying? So .wqnderful that it has exceptions ! No, Death will not put Peter, and his lady out to- sea! * * * , The police are after you; your lips are hot with lies; you sit in the gloom. Nick Stembridge, you are , whipped, cornered. You go out a coward I and “a lihr. Where is your laugh of yes- ; terday?” < ' , And yet he smiled at the perfection of the pride-humbling trap the Fates had laid for him’tbis day; smiled at the, words he had utteted to Soronia and her father, who had bristled into a soldier of France. Apd yet there had been no other way. After what he had done to Constable, it J was not in him to deprive Soronia of what she seemed to need- —not under her pitiful eyes! His own part did not enter. He conjured no golden haze as the mate of this creature, of ardor, fragrance, and gentleness. Nor, on the Other extreme, did he reflect that to spend one’s days in a torrid shop with a woman of black blood was a fitting end' for a brutalized life. - He put' the woman out of his mind, and turned to the sorry business of the wounded friend. He must find Constable and say the last words; then take the blame from his friend in the presence of the women. If he were taken into custody on the way —there was no help for that. All remnants of justice and whitemanship demanded that he set out at once. He hurried to the court. “Soronia,” he called, “I’ll have to go now. Mr. Constable expects to leave with his ship ,to-day, and I must talk with him before he goes.” She appeared in the dress in which he had first seen her. There were tender remonstrances which he scarcely heard, but he answered gently. His mind was with the man. “And you will be back this afternoon?” In the hollow of the universe there seemed no reason that he could utter why he should not be back that afternoon. “Yes, little fairy,” he answered. “And I shall watch from the upper window, if the smoke clears, for your » friend’s ship to sail. * * * Ah, don’t stay long from me I” The sun could not shine through the ■ash-fog which shut out the harbor dis-

tances and shrouded the great cone, but volumes of dreadful heat found the earth. Though the Madame lay well in the harbor. she was iiivisible now, even from the terraces. There was no line dividing the 'shore from the sea, nor the sea from the sky. It was all an illimitable mask, whose fabric was the dust which had lain for centuries upon Pelee’s dynamos. There was no carriage for hire. The •day had driven the public drivers to cover. Breen walked to the plantation house. The servant was long in answering his ring. Mr. Wall was in the hallway. The fall from guest to .an enemy of the house pulled hard upon Breen’s philosophy. “Come in, sir;” said Uncle Joey. His tone was repressed as he added: “Ibid I known your address, I should have sent your effects to you.” “I wasn't thinking abou. that, but looking for Mr. Constable,” Breen declared. “You are Nicholas Stembridge?” “Yes.” ‘ ■ The elder man stared at him savagely. “Don’t you think you have done enough damage?” “More than enough, Mr. Wall; but there remains, from my point of view, an unfinished sentence.” “He is not here.” “Then I need trouble you no further.” Breen had not the heart that instant td ask to she the ladies. At the pier he learned from Ernst, who had charge of the launch, that Mr. Constable was not aboard the ship, and had given up the idea of sailing for the day, apparently. At the Roxelane, Breen found that. Constable had made his way beyond toward the River Blanch, which had flowed black and boiling yesterday. At the Hotel des Palms there was definite word of M. Constable, American. The proprietor bore witness that the gentleman had stopped at the establishment long enough to procure food, mules and guides—the last at great cost, since the natives were in deadly fear—-for a trip to the craters of Pej lee. CHAPTER IX. The morning which broke through the defenses of Breen, and crumpled the dear} est purpose of Constable; also drew Miss Stansbury into the vortex of intense emotions. Whatever dominant traits and impulses she had inherited from her mother, it had been her self-training to repress. Ample opportunity had been afforded her to note in her mother the career of an indomitable mistress of affairs. The result of her observations was a positive distaste for stiffness of views in any sphere, and a conviction that the display of masterfulness in woman did not make for woman’s happiness. As a girl, it had not occurred to Lara to exert an authority counter to her mother’s. When she became a young woman she carefully avoided any extremity which might lead to the breaking of either her own or the more visible will of the house. , ’ Now, im the midst of painful developments, it was borne home to Lara that she had progressed too far in the way of amiability; that' she had unconsciously outstripped her intention, and passed into the boundaries of self-effacement. In the crisis of the newspaper revelations, she had followed her mother’s initiative without question. The creature of indecisions that she .had become grew more and more odious to her as the forenoon passed, and in her contrition she realized that the man whose first wish was to spare her from harm had been repaid with a lack of courtesy and a greater lack of courage. Nothing that she had said or done, it seemed to her now, carried the stamina of decision She had implored him not to speak; she had run from him, like a frightened child to her mother, when he had told his love and begged her to seek safety aboard his ship. In none of her dealings had she shown the strong womanhood which marked her ideals; and in singular contrast stood out his graciousness and patience. The thousand little things in which she had subserved her own inclinations to the maternal will had dulled the delicate point of personality, without which a man cannot stand valiantly through the crux of harsh days. It was all plain now, so hideously plain. The chief of the acts she regretted had to do with’ the morning itself. What manner of ’’friendship” was this which accepted as authoritative the testimony of a newspaper’s suspicions? She had done more than this,, in handing Constable the document-that witnessed against him, and shutting the .door upon,his possible defense. There was an added poignancy in‘the knowledge that her mother wofild not have thus used one .of her favorites. Her distaste for the American caused Mrs. Stansbury so readily to accept’newspaper evidence as a triumph of her judgment. As if such thoughts of wretchedness were not sufficient to start tears Los vexation, Lara’s mind finally added to the inventory of its miseries by reverting to her conversation with Constable in the carriage on the day of his arrival. How she had berated the essayist for declaring that the stuff of friendship stirred not womankind! How vigorously he had agreed with her! She sought her own room when the tumult mounted to the point of tears. Presently she went,to the door and locked it, for the inevitable thought had come. What did the name of Peter Constable mean to her? She had felt his strength. Long ago she had dreamed of such strength and put the dream away. Whether or not he was to be the conqueror, she knew that mastery like his could rouse her heart. She was evading the substance of the question. Before the mirror she frowned severely at the Lara there. “Tell me this,” said the woman, “do I want him to go away?” “No, no!” said the image. 0 “No,” repeated the woman; “not if he be Innocent.” The image scowled at her conservatism. “You deserve to suffer. [You sent him away without a tithe of your trust, without a morsel of your mercy.*

Standing in the npper hallway, she heard what passed between Breen and the planter at the front door. Why did not Uncle Joey demand extenuating circumstances? She was sure that Breen would have dropped some hint, at least, of Constable’s part in the mysterious alliance, had it not been for the barbed iron of the other’s words. Lara’s palms ached from-the pressure of her nails. She did not go downstairs to luncheon, but often crossed the hall, entering Constable’s room to look at the mountain and cityward along the smoky highway. one of these watches she saw the little; black carriage of Father Damien ap-' 1 proaching. He would have driven by, but; she ran below and called to him from the veranda: - L . - “Come in and rest a minute, father. Is there any good to tell?” “Very little, Lara. The gray curse is on Saint Pierre, indeed, I have grown afraid for my people, and am warning them to seek refuge in Fort de France. Your guest suggested this step, and has helped nobly with money to care for the people fleeing to the capital.” j She drew from him an account of his .meeting with Constable on the highway In the morning. He told her, too, how the lyoung man had sent sick native mothers land their children out to the ship for ;refuge from the heat and sulphur fumes, and of the large sums of money he had volunteered for the care of the favored few who fled to Fort de France. Lara bent her head forward toward the priest. “Andwhat dp you think of this man, father?” she questioned suddenly. The old man’s mild gaze fell before the glowing eyes of the prl. “I did not think when I first met him that he was gifted with such zeal,” he answered weakly. “Where is he now, Father Damien?” “That I cannot tell, dear. We have not seen him since morning. Some say that he has gone to Morne Rouge; others that he has ascended to the craters of Pelee.” She sprang up, but repressed the exclamation upon her lips. Her mother had entered. “Good morning, Father Damien,” Mrs. Stansbury said pleasantly. “Is Lara rehearsing private theatricals for you?y The priest made haste to depart, saying that he was on the way to Fort de France with the money Constable had given, to make the refugees there as comfortable as possible. The ladies followed him to the door. It happened that the old man faced Lara as he said: “I hope it may be a false rumor that your friend has sought the craters of Pelee. Such services as his We cannot afford to do without. There is power in the man ” “I think I have felt it, father,” the girl answered quietly. . “What does this mean, this talk of ‘friend’ in connection with the confrere of a thief?” Mrs. Stansbury asked. “I did not quibble in the use of the word ’’ ’ Do you count as a friend one who would tyy to put you aboard a ship which bears the reputation of the Madame de St ae l?_one who would bring to house the notorious Nicholas Stembridge?” -■ “You were also invited .to go, remember.” “Mr dear child, you are overwrought. I cannot believe that you are appealed to by this sudden interest of his in ypur welfare; nor- that you dreamed of accepting terms that wouW’have frightened our Domremy saint who braved wars.” “I do not like your talk of terms, mother. There were no te'rms. Mr. Constable asked me to board his ship, that I might be safe. His care for my welfare is not important in this talk.” “Do you think you would be safe to go with him?” “Safe as the. sea—safe- as the black women and their babies now crowded upon the terrible de Stael! Ido not care to talk further. You have followed your inclinations regarding Mr. Constable, and until now I have allowed'your inclinations to be mine. I am guilty as you are of outraging the sensibilities of a man who deserves at least the consideration of a gentlewoman. I, shall learn the truth about these reports, and if, they are as false in substance as I believe, I shall make up for my incivilities.” Mrs. Stansbury felt that here was a resistance no less formidable than sudden. It must be crushed, of course, but the present moment was mot propitious. She laughed gently. (To be continued.); Spoiled Their Waltzing. In her memoirs Mme. de Boighe gives some interesting glimpses of English social life. For instance, she writes: “In 1816 no young English lady ventured to waltz. The Duke of Devonshire returned from a tour in Germany and observed one evening at a large ball that a. woman was never seen to better advantage than when waltzing. I do not know whether he was anxious to play a trick, but he repeated this assertion several times. It was passed from mouth to mouth, and at the next ball all the young ladies were waltzing. The duke admired them greatly, said that it was delightful and gave proper animation to, a ball. He then added carelessly that he, at any rate, had decided never to marry a lady who waltzed. It was to the Duchess of Richmond aud at Carlton House that he saw fit to make this revelation. The poor duchess, the most clumsy of matchmaking mammas, nearly fell off her chair with horror. She repeated the statement to her neighbors, who passed it on, and consternation spread from seat to seat. The young ladies continued to waltz with clear consciences. The old ladies were furious, but the unfortunate dance was concluded. Before the end of the evening the good Duchess of Richmond was able to announce that her daughters felt an objection to waltzing which no persuasion of hers could ever overcome. Som< few girls of more independence continued to waltz, but the majority gave it up.” The deposit of dew is greatly influenced by color. It will be found thickest oh a board painted yellow, but not at all on red and black.

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Man as Karr Material. German science announces [that everything needed to make a man weigh 150 pounds can be found in the whites and yolks of 1,200 hens’ eggs. Reduced to a fluid, the average man would yield ninety-eight cubic meters of illuminating gas and hydrogen, enough to fill a balloon .capable of lifting 155 pounds. The normal human body has 1 in it the iron needed to make seven large nails, the fat for fourteen pounds of candles, the carbon for sixty-five gross of crayons, and phosphorous enough for 820.000 matches. Out of it can be obtained besides twenty coffee spoons of salt, fifty lumps of sugar and forty-two litres of water. Revival of Jet. Jet is having a great revival, and all the old time bracelets, brooches, combs, chains and necklaces • are being used again. Women who have not brought such trophies forth from long hiding would better do so before their voguewanes again. Unsolved Problems. The three great problems on the solution of | which humanity is bent are the same (that perplexed our ancestors —the immortality of the soul, perpetual motion and'‘women’s hats.—Paris Figaro. • . For Loose Windows. When the wind blows hard at night the rattling of loose vyindow sashes often causes great annoyance. Wooden pegs inserted at the Iside of the sash

THE SEASON’S STYLES IN BATHING DRESSES. .. . I J ' ' ' '' ’ ' " ‘ 1 WW' rWy wP) tUF/i\ iSEWmSb /f Ib V win lUiWin \ I tfe’ I i

will stop the troublesome noise immediately. The-convenient little pegs are easily made from wooden clothes pins, by simply splitting (the pin down the rfllddle. A cord can (be tied around the head and the peg himg on°a tack inside the window curtain, so that it will always be found ready for use. The Thing that Matters Most. After all, the thing that matters most both for happiness and for duty, is that we should habitually live with wise thoughts and right feelings.—John Morley. Hints for Preserving. In selecting fruit .tho- -greatest^care should be takento see that Mt is not overrripe. A cheesecloth bag will be found useful in straining thb fruit through the colander. The best jelly bag is a long one made of flannel, which is made, in a point at the bottom. Plenty of sugar makes rich and luscious preserves and makes the fruit keep much longer. Jelly glasses wjithout fitted tin or glass tops can be Covered by pieces of writing paper. These pieces should be dipped in the unbeaten whites of an egg and pasted at once over the glass. Berries that have beeh’ picked more than twenty-four hours are too old to make good jellies and preserves. The first consideration is a preserving kettle of brass polished until lustrous and with no stain of fruit. This [should ntever be squeezed in order to hasten the dropping or a discoloration of the fruit wilf result. Poreclain kettles should be discarded as soon as they commence to crack and tin, iron or pewter should never be used. This is the sort of vessel used by the old-fashioned housewife and the jellies of our grandmothers have never been equaled; To prevent jars from cracking when the hot prosi'rves are poured in them, set on cloths dipped in cold water and partly wrung out.

In dresses stripes are used in any way that one’s taste may dictate. All styles of coat suits are being fashioned of linen, crash and the pop-, ular pongee. Silk muslin gowns, with cloth hems continue the rage for heavy finishes for the bottoms of skirts. It appears,this summer as if every other woman had entered into the game of “Button, button, who has the button?” Collars, ties and belts are of the utmost importance with the shirt waist suit, whose simplicity demands the greatest nicety hi all of its accessories. The ribbon chain, with slides of either rhinestones or diamonds, is now the climax of stylish accessories. The ribbon is a half-inch black moire and from it may depend vanity box, watch or other ornament. Though the extreme "sheath” dress will not admit of any pettieoat, petticoats are now in the market for the more moderate style. It is made on the circular style so that there will be no fullness at the hips or the knees.

New Bathing Suit. zy // / J i ! - WIX fIW |\ \ Here is a chic bathing suit of brown mohair, than which there is nothing betteF looking nor more stylish. The bands across front of low cut neck are plain white mohair stitched with brown silk, as is the sash and girdle arrangement about waist. Buttons are white pearl. In fitting a pair of boots it should always be borne in mind that you must arrange for the foot covering to be sufficiently ample to accommodate the foot when the member is bearing the whole weight of the body.

Make Own Lamp Wicks. old woolen shirt, cut the width of yous old woolen short, cut the width of your lamp wick, hem both sides. It will work sis well as the ones you buy, and will sdye buying wicks for your lamps?Keep a Pair of Pliers, i The most convenient thing about a house is a pair of pliers. For cutting wire, tightening loose nuts, pulling nails, or lifting hot pans without handles they can’t be beat. A baby in a family, especially the 'first baby, is a source of unending jentertainment. Nothing is more delightful than to watch the gradually, increasing signs of intelligence as the spe- ; cial senses develop one after the' other, and to see the mind unfold as the body enlarges and grows apace. The first of the senses to be developed is that of touch. This is present at birth, although it is not very acute. But it rapidly'increases, and very soon

the crying and fretting of„ tile baby, if a pin scratches or the presses unduly in any part,’ afford am] ple‘ proof that this sense is well developed. ■ Taste and smell are present early, but do not become at all acute or discriminating until after infancy-is past. •Infants are not born with their eyes shut, but-the}' might as well be, for they are blind as kittens. They appear to distinguish between daylight and darkness, and a child a few weeks Old is evidently interested when a bright object is moved before his eyes, but it is two or three months before the child evidently recognizes a sac even its mpftier’s. This is through no fault of the eyes, but is due to the fact that the' briyn is not sufficiently' developed to record and interpret what the eyes see. " ” The new-born child is deaf , as well as blind, but usually notices loud noises by the middle or 7 end of the second week. The direction from which a sound comes seems to be recognized about the end of the third month.. It is some time after that—anywhere from two weeks to two months later —before the baby can distinguish different sounds or recognize its mother’s voice. Babies like noises, if they are not too loud or too sudden, and they are particularly pleased with rattling or jingling sounds, especially if they are more or less rhythmic. By the end of the first half-year ail; infant will show pleasure ; on hearing music, especially singing, although humming on a few notes will usually give it as much pleasure as actual singing. A child’s movements at first are without significance or reason, and its kicking, clinching of fists and making faces seem to be mereiy instinctive exercise of its new muscles, just hs its crying serves to expand its lungs. Other motions are reflex or instinctive, and purposeful muscular movements are of course not made until the brain is sufficiently developed to order them. — Youth’s Companion.

SOME STATISTICS OF CRIME. FigrureH of Prison Population that Furnlth Food for Thought. A bulletin issued by the Census Bu- • ceau contains some statistics of the prison population of the country that ire startlingly suggestive, says the lulianapolis News. The statistics are of June' 20, 1904, when the total population of the country was estimated to be 81,301,848. At that time the country had 1J137 penal institutions, including four United States civil prisons, sixty-seven State prisons and State and tounty penitentiaries, fourteen reformitorles for adults, seventy-one jnunlcijal prisons and workhouses and 1,181 munty jails. At the dattf namtxl these various prisons contained 81,772 inaiates, an average of 100.6 per 100,000 )f population. The average swmis appallingly large, but it shows an improvement oyer 1890, when it whs 131.5 ?er 100,000 of population. There is some consolation in the fact hat, appalling as the aggregate of irime appears, the percentage of criminals, to ix>pulation is. not increasing. This might be due to remissnesh in the enforcement of law, but we are at least permitted to hope that it is not the ease, the moral trend of*the times being roward stricter instead of laxer enforcement of law. It appears that of the total number - es prison inmates on’June 30, 1904, 77,269. or 94% per cent, were males, and 1.503, or 5% per cent, were females. As there is no great difference in the number of males and females in tie country, the figures Indicate clearly that ?rime is.much more prevalent among men than among; women. J On June 24. 1J)O4, there .were in the United States nlinety-three institutions for juvenile delinquents between the of 7 and 21 years. These institutions, included reformatories,: ■schools, truant. schools —in (fact, all kinds of prisons, places of detention and religious agencies for juvenile delinquents. At the date named they contained 23.034 Inmates, of Wbqm 2,566 were, in the Catholic protectory at Westchester; N. Y. The number of inmates in all kinds of institutions for juvenile delinquents increased from 14,546,0. i Jung 1. 1890, to 23.034 pn June 30. 1904. This was a gain of 8.188, or 55.2. per On its face, this is not encouraging, though It may be due to the fact tliat (there were more institutions for juvenile delinquents in 19(»4 than t’here were in 1900, and more activity in arresting and tonflning them. I * DOOM OF THE WANDLE. . i . Clie Stream Where Izaak; Walton y Fished In in Danger. That groat River Wandle —t’the blue ransparent Vandfllis” of | > ope—the tream where old Isaaz fished for trout ‘marked with marble spots like a toroise” —the river which even now is the lost perfect-epitome.in beauty .and in ilth.of big brother Thames]— may be -loomed, sjiys the London News. Its ate hangs upon a mere hundred or woof votes. It can lie k-iiletl or kept Jive just as parliament chooses when he River Wandle protection bill comes efore our legislature-in the course of* he present-year. 1 | > But while gentle fishermen land quiet .ardeuers have always poetised about he river, men of the world have fought ibout it, well nigh from time immemoial. In 1609 a deplorable scheme was •et on foot for taking .onmtjenth part >f the water between Croydon and iVaddon Mill and conveying it by Calais and underground pipes: to the city >f London for the benefit of Chelsea Jollege. but so loud was tljie outcry, feeing that at that date the fiver turnid twenty-four corn mills; that the scheme had to be abandiimyl and by ( .'in act of James I. the necessary water liyas taken from Hackney marsh. Even - it the beginning of the seventeenth cen- • ury there to halve peen none too much water in the rivbr, <i ■ Again in 1799 a determined attempt .vas made by certain financiers and engineers to destroy the river at a blow ay diverting its waters into a canal between Wandsworth and Croydon. Once nore, however, the Wandle Escaped by .•eason of its great commercial utility ind the quaint “Surrey Iron Railway,” with grooved rails and .tiny trucks irawn by horses, took the place of the proposed canal. But the Wandle is still a force and i treasure. It may be neither quite so aeautiful nor quite so useful as a hundred years ago, yet the man who has ?tood on the bridge at Carshalton and watched the crystal waters slip past rhe arches’ to spread bejoiv l into calm pools or soak silently through, broad jeds of cress, or who from the bridge n Wandsworth High street has watched the stained and sullen current glide slothfully toward the Thames must beieve that the River Wandle has still i place in the world. Speech and Action. “Which is better?” Inquired the young patriot. “To be a silver-tongued orator. >r a practical politician?” i “If depends,” answered Senator Sorghum, “on your personal ambitions, Some people desire the last word and pthers are concerned solely about the first ballot.” —Washington Star. 4 —-— Social Sweeta that Cloy. Maud—Oh, dear, I moment any day this week that I can call my awn. My engagement book is positively crammed full. Ethel —Weil, what are you grumbling about?, You’re fond of stuffed dates, aren’t you?—Boston Transcript. Tell of a man who has done a good deed, and few show cxyioslty to know who he la. - '