6 THE OLD HOUSE. StTf! a F-cene of desolation Stands a house of somber gray, A: J beneath Its roof, for shelter from the storm. I stood one day. Xvery darkest nook and cranny Spiders claimed for dim retreat. On f/ie Hoor a velvet carpet Turned to dust beneath my feet XJrokt n windows partly boarded Helped me grudgingly to see A!! the prints of Time's Arm fingers Working here so ceaselessly. Wilder rose the storm each moment; Swiftly fell the summer shower. >Sre I knew It slumber bound me In that lonely place and hour. As I slept the old house wakened From Its dream of death and mold. Arid through every lace-hung window Sunshine filtered, as of old. Gone the dusk from wc-b-hung corners. Ail the threads were brushed away. And the air was sweet with laughter Of the children at their play. & could see them all: The father, With a wee one on each knee, While the mother bent in beauty O'er her darlings tenderly; Out among the summer splendor Strolled a lad and lassie fair. With a wreath of crimson roses £le has decked her curling hair. Eyes of brown and blue are meeting In an ecstasy of bliss; Tender hearts and lips together Seal their troth in that tirst kiss. Slowly then the shadows deepened Round the stair step where I lay. As I wakened from mv slumber, Storm and dream had passtd away. —Farru and Home. My Strangest Case BY GUY BOOTHBY. Author of "Or. Kikola," "The Beautiful White Devil," " Pharos, The Egyptian," Etc. V. y {Copyrighted, 1901, bj Ward, Lock A Co.] CHAPTER II.—CONTINUED. "Ourcase is as follows," he began. "As I have told you, we have been in China for several years, and during that time we have had the good fortune to enroll not a few well-known names among our converts. To make a long .*tory short, we were so successful as Co be able to persuade even the man darin of the province to listen to our aacssage. He was an enormously rich aan, one of the richest, perhaps, in China, and was so impressed by the . good news we brought to him that, on his death-bed, he left to us for the benefit of the mission all h*is wealth, in gold, silver and precious stones. It wis a princely legacy, and one that would have enabled us to carry on our aiission with such success as we had never dreamed of." "But if you were so lucky and so much in love with jour profession, how does it come about that you are in Kngland now?" I inquired. "I will tell you why," he answered, leaning toward me and tapping with his fingers upon the edge of the writ £ng-table. "It is a sad. story, and the mere telling of it causes me more pain than you would believe. You must un derstand that at the time of the man darin's death an English traveler, %\ho had been passing through the west ern provinces, reached our city and took tip his abode with us. Needless to say, we were overwhelmed with grief at the loss of our patron. The treasure he had presented us with we took to the mission and deposited it in a safe place. We had no suspicion of any sort of treachery. 1 fear my companion and I are not men of the world, that is to say we do not go about suspect ingevil of our neighbors." "I think I understand," 1 said. "You brought the treasure home, put it Jo what you considered a safe place, aad one day awoke to find your es timable guest missing and the treas ure gone with him. Have 1 guessed cor rectly?" "You have hit the mark exactly," Kitwater replied. "We woke one day aot only to find the treasure gone, but also ourselves and our mission senious iy compromised. The relations of the dead man not only accused us of hav ing alienated him from the faith of his forefathers, but also of having robbed him of his ancestral treasure. We could not but admit that we had been presented with the wealth in question, «nd when it was demanded of us we could only explain that we had lost it In our turn. You can imagine the po aition for yourself. At the best of times the foreigner is not popular in China, and our situation was particu larly unpleasant. Situated as we were In one of the wildest portions of the empire, and accused of the basest sac rilege, that is to say of violating the home of a dead man, we could hope for ixft small mercy. The man who had robbed us had entirely disappeared, •ad no trace of him could be discov ered. To attempt to offer any expla nation, or to incriminate him, was out of the question. v e could only suffer in silence." He paused and heaved a heavy sigh. "And what form did your punish ment take?" I inquired, for I was be . ginning to be interested in their story "Can you not see for yourself?" the man answered. "Can you not see that I am blind, while my companion is dumb? That was what they con demned us to. By that man's villainy I ap> destined never to look upon God's earth again, while my companion will never be able to converse with his fellow-men, except by signs. We are lu tfc-- world, yet out of it." ! looked at them both in amazement. Their tale seemed too terrible to be true. And yet I had the best of evi dence to show that it was correct. "And why have you come to me? What do you want me to do? I cannot give you back your sight, nor your friend his power of speech." "But you can help us to find the man who brought this misery upon us," Kitwater replied. "That is vOiat we have-come to ask of you. He must in.t be neciriitted to enjoy the wealth he liMaV.' r, >m us. I' is sacred to a spe ouii. dut.y. and Lliut <luly it must per form. We are not overburdened with riches, in fact, we are dependent upon the bounty of another, but if you can help us to recover the sum that wai stolen from us, we will gladly pay whatever you may ask! We cannot say more than that." "Cut this is a most unheard-of re quest," 1 said. "Jlow do you know where the man may be at this mo ment?" "We do not know, or we should scarcely have asked your assistance," Kitwater replied, with some show of reason. "It is because we have heard of your wonderful powers in tracing people that we have come to you. Our only cause for attending the trial at which jou saw us was to hear the evi dence you gavrt and to draw our own conclusions it. That those con clusions were complimentary to you, our presence here is evidence of. We know that we could not put our case in better hands, and we will leave it with you to say whether or not you will help us. As I said just now, my com panion is dumb, while J am blind; we cannot do much ourselves. Will you not take pity upon us and help us to find the man who betrayed and ruined us V" "But he may be at the other end of the world at this moment?" I said. "That does not matter," he returned. "We know that, wherever he may be, you will find him. All we ask you to do is to bring us face to face with him. VVe will manage the rest. It will be strange then if we are not able to get him to a proper way of thinking." This was the most unusual case I had had to do with, a«d for the mo ment 1 scarcely knew what to say. I turned to the blind man once more. "Have you any idea where the man went after he robbed you?" "He crossed the province of Yunnan into Burmah," he replied. "After that he made his way through Rangoon, and shipped on board the steamer Jema dar for London." "When did the Jemadar reach Lon don?" "On the 23d of June," he answered. "We have made inquiries upon that point." I made a note of this, and then con tinued my inquiries. "One other question," I said. "While we are on the subject, what do you suppose would be the total value of the treasure of which he robbed you?" "That is very difficult to say," Kit water replied, and then turned to his companion and held out his hand. The other took it and tapped upon the palm with the tips of his fingers in a sort of dot-and-telegraph fashion that 1 had never seen used before. "My friend says that there were 93 stones, all rubies and sapphires; they were of exquisite luster and extraor dinary size. Possibly they might have been worth anything from £ 170,000 to £ 250,000." I opened my eyes on hearing this. Were the men telling me the truth, I asked myself, or were they trying to interest me in the case by exaggerat ing the value of the treasure? "What you say is almost incompre hensible," i continued. "1 trust you will forgive me, but can you substan tiate what you say?" "When we say that we are o pay your expenses in advance if \*u "GOOD MORNING, MISS KITWATER." I SAID. "THIS IS AN UNEXPECTED VISIT; WON'T YOU SIT DOWN?" will try to find the man, I think we are giving 'you very good proof of our bona tides," he remarked. "I am afraid we cannot give you any other, seeing, as I have said, that we are both poor men. If you are prepared to take up our case, we shall be under a life long gratitude to you, but if you can not, we must endeavor to find some one else who will undertake the task." "It is impossible for me to decide now whether I can take it up or not," I said, leaning back in my chair and looking at them both as I spoke. "I must have time to. think it over; there are a hundred and one things to be considered before I can give you a di rect reply." There was silence for a few mo ments, and then Kitwater, who had been holding bis usual mysterious communications with his friend, said: "When do you think you will be able to let us have an answer?" "That depends upon a variety of circumstances," I replied. "It is a matter difficult to average. In the first place there is no knowing where the man is at present; he may be in Lon don; he may be in America; he maybe in any other portion of the globe. It might cost Ju 500 to find him, it might cost £5,000. You must see for your selves how uncertain it all is." "In that case we should be prepared to give security for the first-named amount, or pay you half in advance," Kitwater replied. "1 hope you do not think, Mr. Fairfax, 1 hat we are endeav oring to play you false? You can see for yourself that our injuries are per manent, and, as far as they go, are at least evidence concerning the truth of our story. You can also see for your self how this man has behaved to wards us. lie has robbed us of all we hohl valuable, and to his act of treaeh ' cry we owe the mutilation# we have CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, APRIL 24, 1902 suffered. Can you wonder that we are anxious to find him?" "I do not wonder at that at all," I said. "My only feeling- is that 1 must regard it as an entirely business mat ter." "We cannot blame you," Kitwater replied. "Vet you must surely under stand our anxiety for a definite and immediate answer. The man has had a considerable start of us already, and he has doubtless disposed of the jew els ere this. At whatever price he sold them, he must now be in possession of a considerable fortune, which rightly belongs to us. We are not vindictive men; all we ask is for our own." "I quite agree with you there," I re plied. "The only question in my mind is, who shall get it for you? Let me explain matters a little more clearly. In the first place I have no desire to of fend you, but how am I to know that the story you tell me is a true one?" "I have already told you that you will have to take our word for that," he said. "It will be a great disappoint ment. to us if you cannot take the mat ter up, but we must bear it as we have borne our other misfortunes. When we realized the way you managed those bank people we said to each other: 'That's the man for us! If any one can catch Ilayle he's that person.' It naturally comes to us as u disap pointment to find that you are not willing to take up the case." "I have not said that I am not will ing," I answered; "I only said that I am not going to commit myself until I have given the matter due considera tion. If you will call here at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, I shall be able to give you a definite answer." "I suppose we must be content with that,"said Kitwater, lugubriously. They thereupon thanked me and rose to go. "By the way," I said, "does this man Ilayle know that you are in England?" The blind man shook his head. "lie thinks we are lying dead in the jungle," he said, "and it is not his fault that we are not. Did he suspect for a moment that we were alive and in the same country as himself, he'd be out of it like a rat driven by a fer ret from his hole. But if you will give us your assistance, sir, we will make him aware of our presence before very long." Though he tried to speak unconcern edly, there was an expression upon the man's face that startled me. I felt that, blind though he was, I should not care to be in Mr. Ilavle's place when they should meet. After they had left me I lit a cigar and began to think the matter over. 1 had had a number of strange cases presented to me in my time, but never one that had opened in such a fashion as this. A 111:111 robs his friends in the center of China; the latter are tor tured and maimed for life, and ccftne to me in London to seelc out their be trayer for them, in whatever part of the globe he might be. The w hole thing seemed so preposterous as to be scarcely worth consideration, and yet, try how I would to put it out of my mind, 1 found myself thinking of it continually. The recollection of the blind man's face and that of his dumb companion haunted me awake and asleep. More than once I determined to have nothing to do with them, only later to change my mind, and vow that I would see the matter through at any cost to myself. Next morning, however, saner coun sels prevailed. An exceedingly re munerative offer was made me by a prominent trust company, which at any other time I should have had 110 hesitation in immediately accepting. Fate, however, which is generally more responsible for these matters than most folk imagine, had still a card to play upon Messrs. Kitwater and C'odd's behalf, and it was destined to overthrow all my scruples, and what was more to ultimately revolutionize the conduct of my whole life. CHAPTER ITT. Towards the middle of the mornTng I was sitting in my office, awaiting the coming of a prominent New York de tective, with whom I had an appoint ment, when my clerk entered to in form me that a lady was in the outer office, and desired to see me if I could spare her a few minutes. "Who is she?" I inquired. "Find out that, and also her business." "Her name is Kitwater," the man replied, when he returned after a mo ment's absence, "but she declines to state her business to anyone but your self, sir." "Kitwater?" I said. "Then she is a relation, I suppose, of the blind man who was here yesterday. What on earth can she have to say to me? Well, Lawson won't be here for another ten minutes, so you may as well show her in." Then to myself I added: "This is a development of the case which I did not expect. 1 wonder who she is— wife, sister, daughter, or what, of the blind man?" I was not to be left long in doubt, for presently the door opened and tiie young lady herself entered the room. I say "young lady," because her age could not at most have been more than one or two-and-twenty. She was tall and the possessor of a graceful figure, while one glance was sufficient to show me that her face was an exceed ingly pretty one. (Afterwards 1 dis covered that her eyes were dark brown.) 1 rose and offered her a chair. "Uood morning, Miss Kitwater," I said. "This is an unexpected visit. Won't you sit down?" When she had done so I resumed my seat at the table. "Mr. Fairfax," she began, "you are the great detective, I believe?" 1 admitted the soft impeachment with as much modesty as I could as sume at so short a notice. She cer tainly was a very pretty girl. "1 have come to talk to you about my uncle." She stopped as if she (*.id not quite know how to proceed. ' iucu the gcinicuiiiu ivho caUed 1 upon me yesterday, and who lias th« misfortune to be blind, is your uncle?" 1 said. "Yes! He was my father's younger and only brother," she answered. "I have often heard my father speak of him, but I had never seen him myself until he arrived in England a month ago with his companion, Mr. Codd. Mr. Fairfax, they have suffered terribly. I have never heard anything so awful ■ s their experiences." "Icanquite believe that,"l answered. "Your uncle told me something of their great trouble yesterday. It seems wonderful to me that they should have survived to tell the tale." "Then he must have told you of Ilayle, their supposed friend" (she spoke with superb scorn), "the man who betrayed them and robbed them of what was given them?" "It was that purpose that they called upon me," I answered. "They were anxious that I should undertake the search for this man." [To Be Continued.] WANTED MONEY, NOT MORALS Story of (lie Cynicism of the I.ate LI Hunjc Chang Told by u Well- Known I'romoter. The late Eugene Stanislas Kostzka de Mitkiewiez used to tell a story of the cynicism of Li Hung Chang, says the New York Times. Mitkeiwicz, a pro fessional "promoter," spent some of the best years of his life in an unsuc cessful attempt to engineer the estab lishment of a great Chino-Ameriean bank. Millions were involved, and it was necessary to secure the favor of Earl Li. Mitkiewiez obtained an inter view with him, and explained his scheme. The Chinaman listened grave ly- "lt is a ,»'lanthropic plan, is it not ?" he said at length. "You desire by means of this bank to bring about moral and social reforms in my coun try, I suppose. You wish to civilize us, to save our souls." "We wish to do nothiDg of the kind," answered the adventurer. "This is simply and solely a commercial enter prise. We don't care a rap for your morals, and I may say for myself, per sonally, that it is a matter of supreme indifference to me whether any of your souls are saved or not." Li's almond eyes twinkled. "Ah," he said, "you are not like other Europeans who come to China. They are all interested in our moral well being. You say you want merely to make money. It is strange. I have heard of such men before, but till now I have never met a European who had not the spiritual good of China at heart." Her l'romlneil Doll. This is the story they tell Af a run ning little five-year-old girl whose nurse had been promising her all summer a little coon doll when the family reached the city, if she would be very good and obedient. This was a delightful promise, and the little girl was as good as a little five-year old could be. Then the family came back to the city a little earlier than usual, and something interesting hap pened—a brand-new baby came to the house. It was a funny, red-faced lit tle creature, which only a loving mother and experienced nurse could possibly consider beautiful, but it was a great thing for the little girl, who had never before in her short life seen a real live baby. "There is a great surprise for you," said the nurse, taking the five-year-old up stairs, where the little new sister was lying snuggled up under a canopy of muslin and ribbons "What do you think of that?" she continued, lift ing the little girl so that she could see the funny little face on the white pillow. And the little girl was as much pleased as everyone had ex pected she would be. She gave the nurse a big hug as she cried: "O, nursie, is that my coon doll?"—N. Y. Times. Volunteer)) in South America. There is a gentleman in Boston who spent a number of years among the various little South American republics, who gives an interesting account of the methods of one of these small states when it comes to a question of making war. The "navy" of the particular power re ferred to consists of a single old fashioned, sidewheel steamer, armed with one gun. In time of peace she is engaged in hauling freight up and down the river which runs close to the capital. At the outbreak of one of the periodical wars, not so very long ago, the president of the repub lic took charge of the steamer and started up stream on a recruiting ex pedition, leaving his senior general in charge of the military prepara tions at the capital. A couple of days later the steamer returned, and soma 70 miserable-looking natives, each firmly bound with a strong rope, were marched off and turned over to the general with a note from the president, which read: "Dear Gen eral: I send you herewith 70 volun teers. Please return the ropes at once."—Boston Herald. How H® i>it. A certain chief justice of the su preme court in one of the western states was noted for his disinclination to admit that he was ill, as well as for his roundabout method of expres sion. One day he was approached by the state librarian. v;ho courteously asked after his health. "William," said the judge, cautious ly, "I am not well, but I am better than I was when I was worse than I now am."—Detroit Free Press. Aprilinwt All I'reeeiletit. hope for me; although she said "no," she was very sympathetic. Jack Nevvitt—Vy dear boy, that's the end of you. No woman ever mar ries the man whom she rejects sym pathetically.—: Philadelphia l'ress. r*"'■-■I " ■ ■■ ■ mm "Get Married" By HENRY CLEWS, Head of tHe Bunking House of Henry Clews & Co. I Much of it is based upon my own experi- I I encc » for the sole purpose of making my words ft J as effective as possible. 3 A I Generally speaking, young man, if you want to be really successful in the development of your character, in the attainment of culture, in I f'&tyl t ' ie broadening of your sympathies, in becoming M a better man and therefore a happier man, DO IT AS SOON AS YOU CAN SUP- Then five years later you will be thanking me Band everyone else who told you to be sensible. j| Here is my own case—merely to prove my Br® interest in the subject: jp - v "»*>' |j 1 married twenty-seven years ago, so you will note that I have had experience. When I mar ried I assuredly was not the man I am to-day. I was in Wall street fighting for a living, and I had to bear all the losses and privations incident to the beginning of a career downtown. My wife had been accustomed to wealth and a fine establishment. Yet she did not disdain to share my comparatively poor lot. Be cause I had a fairly good income I was compelled to keep up a certain appearance, and no one but a man in that position can realize the shifts to which he may be reduced in order to keep his end up. Now here is the point I want to emphasize, because the chances are it will be your experience: My wife aided me in my career to success as only a good wife can. Children came to us. I HOLD THAT A CHILD IS ALWAYS A SPUR TO A MAN. I know that the birth of each little one urged me to renewed efforts in work. That is the case with every man who is worth anything in the world. Just think about your married acquaintances and you'll realize that such is the fact., For illustration—Mr. Horton, afterward president of the Western Union, often told me that he began married life on $250 a year, and that it took his wife six months to save the money for their first carpet. Now there is an example for all girls and men to follow. Tt is unhappilv true, I apprehend, THAT A GREAT MANY WOMEN IN* THESE DAYS LOOK OUT FOR WEALTH AND DEMAND WHAT IT PRODUCES ALL THE TIME. They must have expensive dresses, they also want excessive luxuries. Such women not infrequently lack real love of home life. They simply look upon a husband as a convenience. Please note here that I do not advise a young man just starting out in life with only moderate means to marry that kind of a woman. Yet I do not altogether blame the woman of this kind, for she is the fault of our modern existence. Women that are good wives and mothers are naturally unselfish, and an unselfish woman is usually a good wife. My advice to young men is to MARRY THE RIGHT WOMAN AS SOON AS YOU CAN AFFORD TO TAKE FAIRLY GOOD CARE OF HER, and only increase your expenses in living as your means from time to time admit of doing so. DROVE HIS RIVAL OUT. How II Milwaukee Drummer Came It Over a I'lilensro Coin |>et it or in HIM Line. A traveling .salesman for a local wholesale house lately returned from the south with a good story, showing how he routed a Chicago competitor from a profitable town of his terri tory. This particular town is in Texas, and in it are a lot of jolly good fel lows, whose chief joy in life is guy ing the newcomers and initiating them into the alleged customs of the wild and woolly west. Their method is to take the vic tim to a certain saloon, and after a couple or rounds of whiskies, to en gage in a hot argument, eventually leading to a fierce climax, in which revolvers are drawn. They keep one long six-shooter behind the bar fur just such emergencies, relates a Mil waukee exchange. Our traveling man fell in with a Chicago salesman carrying the same line and bound among other places for Texas. When the Milwaukee man discovered that it was his first trip south he scented some royal sport. He imi.iediately wired ahead to Ihe boys to prepare for a fresh victim. Then he proceeded to enlighten that tenderfoot on the character of the town and its citizens. He drew a graphic picture of their lawless lives, their many feuds, and he dwelt par ticularly on their settling all dis putes, great or small, with a bullet. My the time the train pulled in at X the Chicago man was about mak ing up his mind to erase that town from his list, even if he did lose his job. But his companion cheered him up by picturing the other side of the desperadoes' nature ■ as most genial and hospitable. In fact, not to accept their hospitality was an affront, which would be ruinous to business, and at the same time not quite safe. After supper they went for a stroll, and it was surprising how many friends the drummer met in the course of a block. They were delighted to see him ngain, and at once adopted his new friend. Their cordiality was, if anything, a trifle too vigorous, for they slapped him | on the back and worked his hand like a farm pump. Then a drink was \ proposed. After the first round it j was suggested by the Milwaukee man I they shake dice for the second. The ■ box was promptly set on the bar. The Milwaukee man threw and an nounced: ''Three sixes," "Two, you mean," said the Texan, j quickly sweeping them up. i"I tell you I threw three. I'm not i a blooming fool." I At this the contestant waxed furi ; ottsly, and, pulling his gun, put it on j the bar, saying: "Anybody that dis ! putes my word settles with that!" Then the others mixed in with vari ! ous deadly weapons and language, | the latter as appaling as the weap ons. In the midst of the riot the long six-shooter was produced, at sig-ht of which the tenderfoot, who had been purposely wedged in behind a table, j gave one leap upon it, a second more and with just one sweeping glance | at his friend he bolted through the j door and down the street like J greased lightning. 1 When he reached the hotel he told i them to send the police, his late ! companion was being murdered. | In the meantime the jolly good fellows gave way to uproarious mirth, and after another drink all round to the success of their sport I they suggested doing it all over. The Milwaukee man was dispatched after the victim, to whim he was in structed to say that everything had been adjusted amicably. They wait ed for hint to join them in order to apologize. They felt that he had left them tinder a misapprehension, ami in order to show there was no ill-will they insisted that he return. This being the case, he consented, and the late desperate combatants vied with each other in handsome apologies for their apparently hasty proceedings. It made the victim feel so important he ordered jjin rickies for the crowd. All was conviviality and harmony till a game of poker was started. Then came the cyclone, fiercer and wilder than before. The air fairly sizzled with oaths, blood-curdling threats were shrieked and bowie knives and revolvers were brought out once more. When the long six-shooter came on deck the Chicago man gave a cry like a lost soul, took one running jump clear through the screen, not unlike a cir cus performer, and was lost in the darkness. No explanations would reassure J him. lie putin the rest of the night I packing his samples, and the next I morning shook the dust of Texas ! from his trembling feet, leaving a | clear field to Milwaukee's enterpris- I ing salesman. Don't He Too Anxionn. Nothing ever comes that we re.ally j want when we watch the mails too {closely.—Washington (iu.) Democrat,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers