The Syracuse Journal, Volume 19, Number 24, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 14 October 1926 — Page 7

Youth Rides West

• 4 CHAPTER Xll—Continued —l*— A confusion of voices. Men Jostling wnd pushing all about me. Shorty's ice shoved close to mine; Shorty asking: -Which way did he go?" *TU never tell!” I replied. More confusion. Some one had struck me on the side Os the 4 head. They were forcing back my struggling arms, tying my hands. Some one yelling that my horse was gone. Shorty ordering the cavalry to saddle and start. A voice was crying: “String him • up!” Constance speaking, her tones cutting sharply through the babble: “Don't—oil, don't! I did It, I tell you! I did It!" My owu voice gasping: “Steady! It will be all right!" Marcus and Buck by very authority clearing a space about me. Marcus crying: No lynching without a trial In this i camp !’• Constance, her voice controlled now, saying: “It Is not necessary to touch me. gentlemen. I will go with you.” A hollow square of guards forcing us on: 1. remembering how the Killer walked to bis death, trying tqf hold my head as high, to move my legs as firmly. Through an agitated, hysterical crowd we popped Into the door of the courthouse. In my picture of life. Major Brown * had been’another dim. suggested hit of background. I kuew him as our most reliable assayer. as the first locator in the rush to Hayden hill, hs a •substantial personage about camp. As they unbound me and led me up * to the table at which he sat In Judgment. I studied his face. I saw determination there, but no mercy. And tny soul within cried out for mercy rather thuti for such Justice as this court was administering. * They had seated Constance in a j chair beside the Judge's table—odd j that I had not looked for her before! That hysterical moment of hers when they laid hands on me by the jail <loor had changed to a great stillness. I never saw a face and form of the living so quiet and so beautiful. Her hands lay clasped in her lap. but loosely; they did not clutch or move. 1 had that morning Imagined her eyes looking at me across a courtroom with 'unutterable reproach. They looked on me. Indeed; but with no more emotion than Is in the blue petal of a flower. Above all. they were not afraid. My little terrors of the flesh vanished. “Shall we try these prisoners one tit a time the man first?" asked Major Brown. This" was a miners’ court, and democratic In Its forms. 4 perceived. The Judge merely pro aided. Constance stirred and spoke. At the major's wonts, a buz* of debate haa Started to the rear of the room. Hut her rich voice with the dropping syllabtee muted that: “I presume you are trying this man for letting your prisoner escape? Then 1 should remain to testify. Be* * cause I am wholly responsible.” “That is not true.” I said, as firmly aa 1 could. T did It alone. This lady (s trying to save me. 1 let him go. Because— * There I (topped. How could L without betraying her. shaming and humiliating her, say why I did it? What excuse could I possibly Invent? I clutched at a weak one. ‘'Because I didn't want to see him hanged. I brought him In." I added. “I caught * him. And I had a right to let him go.” “Prisoner, you are getting ahead of the proceedings,” he said. “Gentlemen, under the circumstances hadn’t we better let this lady stay?” There was silence. He paused a moment. “Very well. If no one objects. Clerk, book the lady.” He did not look at Con stance, and neither did the clerk, as She answered to the formal Inquiries; “Constance Deane —Mrs. Martin Roealter Deane —of Providence. Rhode Island.” His name! I bad never heard It before. Odd that I should bear It first , In such circumstance*! Everything \ was odd; even comically odd. Never j have I been able to reconstruct in < memory the events of the next few minutes. They were banding me a hook I was being sworn, Constance Deane sitting so quiet! f bad kissed her once. Should I ask to kiss her again—before— ? I was talking. I must remember not to say that I gave him my bat and horse. They might Identify him by my hat and my horse. Shorty—he seemed to be prosecutor—was asking me about I must dodge, dodge. I was say- _» Ing that tt was some horse which stood t>y the Jail. And saying it badly. They would never belleTe me. Marcus waa talking. About my previous reputation. A strange court! They let adv<v ■cates testify. Back was talking. About ray squareness. And: “We will hear now—from the lady!“ said Major Brown. I came conscious, wide awake, every sense preternaturally acute. A drawing of many breaths ! agitated the room; then, as Constance j ruse, absolute silence even outside. ] Her lips parted once or twice: then she waa speaking in that low. lovely voice with Its dripping pause between syllables—and fluently “In the first place, gentlemen, the man who escaped a few minutes ago waa my husband—Martin R. Deane. I to Providence five years •go.” ”1 think you will allow that a wife in any circumstances should do what she can to save her husband's life. Os course, you Intended to kill him. t did net know until ttb morning what happened to town last night. Then I learned—l suspected—that you bad my husband to Jail t reached the toll while—while you were—killing— the other man. 1 felt my husband bad no chance. I aaw aa opportunity. And 1 relsaaad Mag” Major Brown sat with hi* eyes on Mm cover of Judge Co wan‘s law book. . Without looking up. he asked: Urn. Deane, will you explain hew you accomplished tola? The toll waa m rM AfU ) flijmran Kail Ihn ktoW m luKnira, boh vhww ***** ium “Bow does s woman make a man do anything? He arms atone to front of the jafl- Th* guards were watch-

* By Will Irwin Copyrirht br Will Inrii WNU Ssrries

Ing—what you were doing.” Here she paused and drew a breath so deep, held It so long, that I thought she would never release it. Then, as though realizing that she must shrink from nothing, she went on. 'The hanging. I mean. Mr. Gilson had captured my husband. He didn't know it was my husband. I told him. He Is my friend. He did not want to break my heart. I begged him. I entreated him. I made .him feel thot If you—hanged—my husband. It would kill me. He unlocked the door. My husband got on Mr. Gilson's horse. He has told you differently. But If you believe him. you must helleve that he was at least an accomplice In stealing a / horse.” How quick was her intelligence! I hadn't thought of that! “When he says It wus some unknown horse, he Is only trying to make my husband's escape more certain—trying to save me and mine. 1 cahoot let him do that. He has done enough. He took his life In his hands like the gallant gentlenian he is. But I made him do It. If I had asked—” She stopped there. What she had intended to say. what she had cut off with a little Intake in her breath. 1 could supply. So. I think, could the rest. It was a boast of the jx»wer of her sex. “If I had asked any one of you—l with these eyes. I with this appeal of my youth and womanhood and goodness and grief—what would you have done?" Any man in the room must have read that in her silence. Major Brown cut In with bis dry. unemotional tone: "Mrs. l*eane. how much have you had to do with your husband's operations In this camp?" tor the first time her smooth pallor broke into color. As from a sudden, intense flame, a spot burned Instantly on either cheek, was instantly gone. “Allowiug that my husband's business here was criminal—which 1 do not allow — 1 had nothing whatever to do with that. I have not communicated with him in any way—except as I have told you. When we talked, it was only about coming home with me. I cannot prove this, of course. But you cannot prove the contrary." Again her cheeks grew vivid, melted to pallor. “Gentlemen. I acted this morning on Impulse; but If you haug anyone, you should hang me. I did not see the end of what 1 was doing. 1 did not know that I was putting In danger a fine, brave, good man. worth ten times —" Her voice broke a little here, hut she caught hack her sob. “And if you hang him, you must hang me. 1 do not care to live and realize what I have done. That la all.” Firmly, Constance sat down. Major Brawn lifted his face to the crowd, opened his mouth to speak. But Buck, shoving past Marcus, stood before the table. he said without the formality of addressing the court, "tiefore we do any votin’ I’ve got a few brief remarks to make concerning where we are at. This vigilance committee wasn’t formed Just to give the boys a treat. We was after somethin'. We warned to make this here a decent camp. And we took the only way there was. Some day. I suppose, this here Imperial state is goto' to come snoopin’ round inquirin’ into these proceedings. What’ll they find? That we cashed to five tarantulas that better anyhow. No kick Everybody satisfied. We've had that bunch looked up. Goto’ on any tow that ever was, they all would 'a' got a long term, an' most of ’em the rope. We’ve saved the state a heap of board. But you’ve struck a different question with the kid here. He'a— lie’s good. He’s helped make this here camp. He was to on the carbonate discovery. He's been workin' on the paper tighttn’ the bunch of crooks that was runnln' us- He’s got nerve. I know. It's all right to go up against a man with a gun In your hand. But I don't see myself tackling a bandit barehanded like he dime 1 dunuo why he turned this here Deane, alias Maxwell, loose. Maybe I'm guess in’, as maybe you all are, but I don't know. Anyhow, if he did it, I’m bankin' be had a good reason, a d — 0 —" Buck checked himself here, vainly tried to bite off the profane word he had dropped In the presence of a tody. No one answered him at first. Then Shorty gave a growl, preliminary to speech. “Shut up. Shorty!” snapped Buck. If anyone wanted to know why it was called Hayden hill, jfbt Craly's hill, the answer was here. For Shorty did shut up; and Buck continued: “I ain’t goto’ to let It happen. Not If 1 can atop it The vigilance committee has worked harmonious an far. If you go on with them* proceedings, there’s two of us will take objection, strong. Marcos Handy and me. his partners- And 1 guess there’ll be others. Boys, let's call this thing off. Os course, nobody expects to do anything to the tody. While we’re at It. I don't see any sense to chasing that husband of hers—unless the boys have rounded him op already. We’ve got five out of six of the men we tranted. That’s doin’ da — mighty well." Buck paused as though searching his vocabulary for the proper parliamentary expression before he finished: *1 make that to the form of a motion.'’ “You make what in the form qf a motion?” inquired Major Brawn dryly. “All them things." vaguely responded Buck. It was a challenge. Buck’s very physical attitude suggested that. Although he had finished speaking, he <fld not move away from before the table hot stood there straight and poised, facing the crowd. From the belt round the waist of hit store clothes hung his bolstered 45-caliber revolver. His hand rested tightly, suggestively. on the butt. Voices broke out; some of them—but a minority, my hopes told me—angry, arguing, protesting. Major Brown rapped the room to order. “All In favor of hanging Robert Gil-

son for betraying the vigilance committee, say 'aye.'” Silence. "The *noes’ have It.” announced Major Brown. "Unless there is a motion to the contrary, this court stands Indefinitely adjourned.” CHAPTER XIII Marcus Handy and Buck, standing by to the end, kept us In Judge Cowan's courtroom until the vigilance committee had evaporated, leaving us alone. A ruffle of drums sounded without; men were running and clamoring. A shiver which Jerked her shoulders against the back of her chair ran over the form of Constance. The ready, understanding Buck was first to see what this meant. “Don’t worry, Mrs rtoane.” he said, “that ain’t him. That's the crooks being run out of town!” This time, fascination draw us all to the window, even Constance. Thera was no emotion left tn me now except a vague curiosity; my own languor of mind and soul seemed to heighten tuy perceptions; and from my night and day with tragedy I carry away no pictures so vivid as that of the procession which emerged from the corral. “Rogue's march!” commented Marcus briefly. "Curtain's up on the last act of our show !*’ And Into view mnrehed the prisoners of the Pioneer corral. Conway’s stubble of beard had grown In the night. His cheeks were as dark as a chimney sweep's; but he -faced his disgrace with a calm and humorous smile. The gambler who had lost his nerve and got religion walked with bis head down. Among the dirty

“Oon*t Worry, Mrs. Deane,” He Said. “That Ain't Him.”

and deprqycd camp followers of Pearl street were those who cringed as they came under the eyes of our outraged city, and those who still managed In the pose of head and shoulders to express defiance. Colliver. the lawyer, walked straight, glaring right and left, hts eyes made terrible, insane, with suppressed anger. A little, iudravn "Oh!" from Constance signaled the passage of Red Nell. The powder on her cheeks had gathered dust during the night; the spots of rouge were no longer bright carmine, but a dull and dirty Indian red. Her frizzes fell to wisps over her forehead. But Red Nell raged no longer. She walked with her eyes down, her hands clasped before her. a ghastly and grotesque caricature of a maiden martyr led to the stake. Whatever womanly dignity remained to her had at the end of all her indignities come to the surface. Chris McGrath was coming; among his separate entities, this one was new. I saw that to the first flash, before my eye began to pick up details. Ills shoulders, once so erectly confident to their carriage, sagged as though he had suddenly grown old. His steps stumbled. His head was boweA It did not imply sullenness, this averted gaze. Rather was it the attitude of a broken man who cannot bear to look mam disgrace. I understood the *pollcy of self-preservation which Marcus Handy had been applying to this enemy of his. To expel the old. self-reliant Chris McGrath from camp was equivalent to prolonging trouble. He was bound to come back when opportunity served, and to shoot But his night of mental horrors in the Pioneer corral, the **ght of the lynching, the very psychological weight of public opinion, had served to break his spirit. I remember him as 1 saw him first when he stopped the lynching to the Black Jack—a dominant, heroic figure, dowered with a compelling masculine charm—and found It to my heart to pity him. After all, he was only misplaced. His virtue* of courage, decision, generosity to ht> friends, rough personal good fellow ship; his faults of rampant individuality and muddled moral distinctions —they belonged to the old era of gun law. Sudden, offhand Cottonwood bad entrusted this anachronism with enforcing that book taw to which our ramp and all the West must necessarily come to the end. His night of horror and disgrace and spiritual loneliness may have given him black understanding. taught him that he had been fighting the current of the human spirit. That, possibly, explained the change to him. He was not eo much terrified as overwhelmed. At anff rate, t'ottonwood never heard from Mm again. Years later, I picked up the remaining threads. He had become a drifter from camp to camp, a protector of gamblers, a dangerous drunkard, until a shot to a brawl at Mile* City finished his career. He passed like Hie grizzly; crushed by progress. Chris McGrath marched between solid Mpes of crowd, his bent bend now visible, now concealed. A phalanx

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

of vigilante guards follow eu, uk crowd closed in behind; the Rogue’s march stopped, to be succeeded by* the beat of the drums; the deposed king of Cottonwood had passed from his kingdom. “Where are you sendihg her?” asked Constance. “Wagon’s waiting to take ’em over the range to Piested's, all comfortable, and drop ’em,” replied Marcus. “Will she —” began Constance, and stopped. For a horseman loped down the street, pulled up at the door of the courthouse, threw his bridle over a lathered head, strode within. The hands of Constance went together; I, who had thought there was no emotion left In me, found my breath coming and going in great sighs. “Boss,” began the messenger— then saw Constance and me. paused. “All right.” said Mnraus. “go ahead. These people are safe—they’re acquitted.” “Well, we’ve got no line on where he went,” said the horseman. “Trails is too d —n trampled. He started down the Ludlow pass road all right. After that, we loses him. What we need’s a regular tracker. Wasn’t one tn the whole d—n outfit” “Let’s see,” mused Marcus. “Boys’ pretty tired. I suppose?” “Dead!” said the messenger. “Look at me. Up all night. And done a hard day’s work yesterday. Horses too.” “All. right.” announced Marcus. “They’re ordered to oon;e in and put up their horses.” He paused. T've already taken other measures to have our man followed —tell ’em that.” “Best news I’ve heard today!” commented the messenger as. with a haste betraying fear lest Marcus should change his mind, he shot through the door, remounted, loped away. “Another public embarrassment removed from the path of progress, as Henry Ward Beecher would say,” remarked Marcus. “If the boys had brought him in, I don’t believe this camp Would have wanted to hang him —now. Buck, guess our job’s done.” k and I were looking not at him. however, but at Constance. Across her pallor a flush was mounting, as when the rose-dawn touches the snows of the Divide; to her deep-blue eyes a light was shining as when the sunrise strikes on mountain lakes. She held out hands—the right to Buck, the left to Marcus —who took them sheepishly. Buck.* Indeed, started the pumphaudle motion of a handshake: then, as he perceived that her gesture meant more than that, retained her hand; and a blush inflamed his tanned brow. So she stood for a moment, looking from one to the other. * “I have had friends,’.' she said. “And perhaps you wouldn’t like to have me (•all you friends. But 1 never dreamed that I should ever ask any friend to do for me what you two wonderful men have done today. I can’t thank you. It would be ridiculous to try. But If you ever want anything I can do or can’t do—let me—” She broke off; her eyes became lakes indeed; she released thetr hands. “It's all right—twasn’t nothing!” Buck managed to say. “I’d do it again for you and more. Mrs. Deane.” began the readier Marcus. “You’re —’’ but the lakes were overflowing. Buck first, then Marcus, backed out of the room. “I want to cry, Robert," said Con stance. “Don’t—try—to—comfort—mt —please. Just watch —to see If any one’s coming—" So I stood for a long time, as It seemed to me. and studied Main street as It settled down to normal. The voice of Constance, sweet with passing tears, spoke behind me. “I think I’d better go home now,” she said. "I’m going with you.” I replied. She hesitated, as though restrained hy some little, instinctive fear of the proprieties; then, as realizing howridiculous that was to the face of our situation, smiled —firmly now —and replied : ••Do—l want, of course, to tell you everything." So we walked together into Main street. Naturally we attracted attention. I could feel with the back of my head that the crowd about Doc Evans’ window had turned from that old sensation to this new one. had stared and pointed. Now and then a head craned from a window, or 1 heard a rush of feet at a doorway. Eyes ahead, we walked to silence up the familiar path—should I ever tread It again?—to Mrs. Barnaby’s. Constance was not entirely reas sured that Deane had escaped. I must needs give her eomfort on that. Once I asked: “What you said before they arrested me —you mean that. Con -stance V She answered: "I meant it rfien. I mean it now. I mean It for ever!" But we did not then kiss ot clasp hands, as unfettered lovers may after such words; only sat for a time silent and looked at each other. A spurt of sleep or what resembled sleep; when I came out of It. fever Ishly awake, she was talking: “—my own fault, my very own to the beginning. Robert. A little of It sin—ls you want to call It that. The rest Jnst folly. Perverse folly. I was only seventeen when I eloped with him from Miss Gorham’s academy at Prov Idence. That was the beginning. 1 shan't lay that to anyone else. But I will tell you how It happened: “We lived at Warwick —do you know It? A little old Rhode Island town. The family had been there for ever. My mother was younger than my father. She died when I was six years old. I had no brothers or sisters. “My father married again—a beautl ftjp woman, a brilliant woman, but unbalanced. Perhaps Insane. I wouldn't have had the charity to make that ex cuse for her once. I bated her. But I think, now. I shall never hate any one else so long as I live. She was cruel to me—insanely cruel —because she was Jealous. I have been beaten terribly beaten, tn my day. Robert. But more than that. Hie trick of pat ting me in the wrong. . . . Perhaps that waa why father sent me away tc school— to Miss Gorham’s in Providence. From the time I was seven until I was seventeen—Jnst school. At first I came home fur the holidays But finally she spoiled even that She had • terrible hold on father. I can understand that, too* She was a bean tlfol creature. (to aa roirrivcxD.)

ONE THRILL OF WAR By MARY LYLE WARNER

(Copyright by W. a. Chapman.) IN THE most critical situation of her young life, Alma Waite gazed longingly at the engagement ring upon her finger and wondered if she would ever see Its giver again. “Where is he. and what is to become of me?” was the constant burden of her thoughts. A knight errant brave and true. Adrian Bond would have been speedily coming to the rescue of his lady love to distress, but that grim-visaged war had presented its ugly menace and rude clamors shook the commonwealth. Her father and mother were at Paris. There, too, were the Bonds, making the European trip with the'.r closest friends. It was a strange circumstance that had taken Alma away from them. It appeared that a halfbrother of Mrs. Waite lived in a little town in Belgium, near the German border. He had invited the family to pay him a visit, but their plans would not admit it. Then he expressed a yvish to see Alma, who had been named after his dead wife. He was fervent in his appeal and half-minded to give up his business and return to America, he said. The result was that Alma took a quick trip from Paris and found herself an honored guest’iu the splendid but lonely home of her halruncle. Zephern Dacre was a diamond merchant. conducting his business by traveling from country to country. Alma was enchanted with the kindly way in which he treated her. She was to have remained with her relative only three days, bat Mr. Dacre made up his mind to close up his busiuess. accompany her to Baris and .return with the family to America and take up a permanent residence there. Directly upon the heels of this came a declaration of war. Mr. Dacre hastened his preparations to get out of the country. He urged Alma to remain indoors, for the community surrounding them was in a wild state of excitement. The evening before the day set for their departure Mr. Dacre discharged all the servants. Just about dusk he came hurrying into the house iu a great state of ex Itement. “Why, what is the matter?” questioned Alma anxiously, as she noted his colorless face and trembling frame. "Listen, my dear,” said Mr. Dacre hurriedly. “You must leave here at once if a certain thing happens, and it may happen quickly. The war spirit is abroad. They are suspicious of me because of my business connections with other countries. I was just secretly advised that I am listed as one of the proscribed.’’ “Oh, uncle, they will do you no harm, surely?” “They will hamper, perhaps arrest cue. 1 was ail ready to leave here In the morning. I fear they will not allow me to do so.” “But why not?” “Officious, and in some cases corrupt persons will try to prevent me from taking my fortune out of the country. See. Alma." and Dacre drew a little chamois bag from a secret pocket, “the diamonds to this represent the bulk of my fortune. Take it, secrete it. If I am arrested fly at once —not into Germany, as we proposed, for that course Is blocked, but straight for Baris.” j "But, uncle—” “Quick! they are here already, as I feared." cried Mr. Dacre. His worst apprehensions were confirmed. There was a loud summons from the end of a musket at the street door. “Do not lose your nerve, dear child.” spoke Dacre. ’They dare not harm me and I will soon join you to Paris. Hurry away through the rear garden, take the first train for the border. At •all hazards protect the fortune with which I have entrusted you.” Then be was gone to answer the imjerious summons at the street door. Alma lingered only loug enough to learn that he was really taken to charge as a suspect. Then she filled fier handbag, secured the jewels in a safe pocket and hurried away through toe garden apparently unobserved. Alma reached the train. She tried lot to think that she was cowardly in deserting a relative to trouble. She felt relieved when the train started. Then she stared to wonder and even tuspicion at the other occupant of the carriage. There sat a person who until the day previous had been a servant, a sort of major domo to the service of her uncle. He lifted his cap with a servile smirk on his face Alma did not at all like. “The master is to Rouble.” he remarked. “I have heard of it. I, too, may be proscribed and I am bound for mother country. If madamoiselle will

Barnum Left Record of Sermon Preached

P. T. Barnum. the circus king, once preached a sermon. On a Sunday morning to the late summer of 1838. the great showman appeared before the congregation of the Rocky Mount Falls Primitive Baptist church located at the falls of the Tar river, just beyond the village of Rocky Mount Mills. N. C. The sermon is authenticated by Barnum in his autobiography. There are two versions of the Barnum sermon. One Is that the regular minister failed to appear and Barnum. to camp near the church, took the pulpit rather than see the crowd disappointed. Little "Absolute Rest” The average amount ot “absolute test” that is got during a night’s sleep Is only eleven and.one-half ’minutes, according to Prof. H. M. Johnson of the Mellon institute at Pittsburgh. The remainder of the time, he says, there is usually muscular or mental action, such as take* place during a dream.

allow, I will do what 1 can to see he> safely across the border.” Alma murmured her thanks. Sh» did not like the man. She was sus picious of his ready presence. Sin fancied her uncle had said something about his being untrustworthy. An un protected young girl, however, she re fleeted that because of his former employer Boyard might strive to really serve her. There was no stoppage to the train during the long night. Alma did not sleep. She felt uncomfortably conscious somehow of the constant glance Boyard kept upon her. Was It pos slble that he kuew of the rich treasure she carried? Just at daybreak the train was halted at a little town In the mountains. A body of soldiers ordered all to alight; Boyard was carrying the little satchel belonging to Alma. Suddenly he disappeared. He did not return. Then Alma was persuaded that he had made away with it, believing its contents valuable. Her passport was gone. She was ordered to remain in the country. What a fate for the delicate young girl, when that evening, distraught, footsore, affrighted, she neared the light of a lonely hut in the mountains. She dared not remain in the town where the prejudice against an alien would pursue her. She feared being imprisoned, searched, and the jewels taken from her, so she had wandered away from human habitations, blindly hoping some chance might" put her across the border. Once she believed she was pursued, and in the distance fancied she noted the lurking Boyard. Now, hungry, athirst, exhausted, she hasteued toward the light. As she neared it a cry of acute pain came from the hut. A wild figure of a man dashed by her. The cry from the hut was repeated. Alma entered to find a peasant woiqau lying in bed in a spasm of pain. Then she aroused to minister to the sufferer. It was her keen womanly sympathy that helped her successfully. The man, who had hastened for a neighbor and found no one at home, came back frantic. When he learned, however, of the timely aid of Alma he overwhelmed her with his sincere gratitude. That night there was a dread alarm at the lonely hut. Half a dozen armed men appeared outside and demauded that Alma be handed over to them as a prisoner. When Alma recognized Boyard as their leader she knew that he was after the diamonds. She had learned during the evening that her host was a smuggler of lace 3 over the border of France, yet in her dire extremity Alma felt that she must trust In him. She told him her storywhile the group outside were clamoring vociferously for admission. The smuggler’s eyes brightened. “Ah,” he said, “you wish to save your Jewels from that horde? Then I can help you and show tuy gratitude for your kindness to ray wife. Tell me the Baris address of your friends. The diamonds shall be there within two days." And then the speaker whistled for a keen-eyed little dog Alma had noticed about the place. He secured the chamois bag about its neck, scrawled a few lines, and inclosed the screed inside of a padded coat he fitted to the dog. and, going to the window, opened it. dropped the Intelligent animal in the dewy grass and away it sped. Boyard soon learned that he had been baffled. Three days later the smuggler managed td get Alma across the border. There was a great reunion when Mr. Dacre arrived to find the gems > safe and sound, for the smuggler’s dog had carried the treasure safely over the border to trusty friends of his master, who had sent it on to Paris. The Outcast It came to the notice of a traveling man who had happened into a country store in northern Maine that th« crackerbox loafers around the stove seemed to be (Jpcidedly coo! toward one old man who appeared to be of their clique. “You don't seem to care much for that fellow's society,” remarked the traveling man to one of the loafers. “Nope.” was the reply, “we don't. He’s always a boastin’ about how ha ain’t doue nothin’ but loaf ever sinev 1590.” “Too much of a braggart, eh?” “Nope, ’tain't thet. but,” he added confidentally, “we Jes can’t stand a feller thet's forever talkin’ shop.”— Forbes Magazine. Seeing I see everything I paint In this world, but everyltody does not seq alike. To the eye of a miser a guinea Is far more beautiful than the sun, and a hag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions thin k vine filled with grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is to the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way. . . . Some scarce see nature at all. . . . You certainly mistake, when you say that the visions of fancy are not to be found in this world. To me this world is all one continued vision.—William Blake.

The other version indicates that Barnum preached after the regular pastor had concluded his sermon. Barnum leaves one quotation from his sermon to his autobiography. It says; “We cannot violate the laws of God with Impunity, god He will not keep back the wages of well-doing. f Diamonds may glitter on a vicious breast, but the soul’s calm sunshine an<i the heartfelt Joy is virtue’s prize.”—Raleigh News and Observer. Value of Lemon Juice There is not the slightest scientific evidence that lemon juice la of any value to beautifying the human form, says Hygeia Magazine. However, both the juice and the peel have been found to contain vitamins, whichSts a sufficient reason for the use of the fruit as a food. Although only one family to ten haa an ice box to Germany, there are more small ice boxes there than to any other European country.

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