6 OTHER SIDE OF SUNSHINE. I never talk Philosophy, I.lke Pessimists, ail' such, Who try to make a feller think That life ain't liotliin' much. I jjuess there never wuz a spot Where shadders didn't fall. But shadder's jest the other sida O' sunshine, after all. An' (here ain't no use In fumln' When the world seems out o' gear, Per music's always in the air, An' love, an' sons, an' cheer Jest ke» ps a feller's spirits up An' kinder makes him glad. An' come what will, he's bound to think L#lfe aiu't so awful bad. Sometimes a feller has ter weep, Sometimes he has ter laugh; The shadders and the sunshine mix Jest kinder half and half. —N. O. Times-Democrat. \ My Strangest Case BY GUY BOOTHBY. Author ol "Dr. Kikola," " The Beautiful White Devil," "Pharos, The Egyptian," Etc. ICupyrijUtud, 1901, by Ward, Luck & Co.} CHAPTKIt VI.—CONTINUED. "Yer can take it as yer darned well please," said the other, as he spoke placing 1 his glass upside down on the counter, in order to prove be yond contradiction that it was emp ty. I immediately ordered a repeti tion, which was supplied. Thereupon the cabman continued: "When I 'as a bit of business ter do yer must understand that I does it, and that no man can say as I doesn't. A gent gets into my keb and sez he: 'Drive me until I tell yer to stop, and go as fast as yer can,' sez he. "fake every back street yer know of, and come out some where Hoxton way. I'm not par tic'lar so long as I go fast, an' I don't git collared by the keb that's after us. If yer help me to give 'im the slip there's a five-poun' note for yer trouble.' Well, sen I to myself, this is a proper bit of business and there and then I sets off as fast as the old 'orse cud take us. We turns lip Southampton street, and you turns up after us. As we was agoin' down 'Knrietta street I asked him to let me 'ave a look at his five-poun' note, for I didn't want no Hank of Fashion or any of that sort of truck shoved into me, you'll understand. 'You needn't be suspicious, cabby,' sez he, 'l'll make it suverings, if you like, and half a one over for luck, if that will satisfy yer?' When I told him it would, lie give me two ponn' ten in advance and away we went again. We weren't more than 'arf a mile away from here—thank ye, sir, I don't mind if I do, it's cold drivin' —well, as I was a sayin' we wasn't more than 'arf a mile away from here, when the gent he stands up and sez to me: 'Look here, Kebby, turn the next corner pretty sharp, and slow down at the first bye-street you come to. Then I'll jump out.' 'Right yer are, guvnor,' sez I, and with that he 'ands me up the other two poun' ten and the extry half suvering. I fobbed it and whipped up the old 'oss. Next moment we was around the corner, and a-drivin' as if we was a trying to ketch a train. Then we comes to a little side street, an' I slows down. Out 'e jumps and down he goes along a side street as if the devil was arter him. Then I drives on my way and pulls up 'ere. Bilked you were, guvnor, and I don't mind sayin' so, but busi ness is business, and five poun' ten ain't to be picked tip every day. I guess the old woman will be all there when I get 'ome to-night." "That's all very well, cabby," I said, "but it's just likely you want to add another sovereign to that five pound ten. If you do I don't mind putting another in your jvay. 1 tell you that I want to catch the man I was after to-night. He's as big a thief as ever walked the earth, and if you will help me to put my hand upon him, you'll be doing a service, not only to me, but to the whole country at large." "What is it you want me to do?" he asked, suspiciously. "lie treated me fair, and he'll take it mean of me if I help you to nab him." "I don't want you to do anything but to drive me to the side street where you put him down. Then you can take your sovereign and be off home as quick as you like. Do you agree?" He hesitated for a space in which a man could have counted 20, and then set his glass upon the counter. "I'll do it,"he said. "I'll drive yer there, not for the suvering, but for the good of the country yer speaks about. Come on." I gave my own man his money, and then followed the other out to his cab. He mounted to his box, not without some help, and we presently set off. Whether it was the effect of the refreshment he had imbibed, or whether it was mere elation of spirits I cannot say, the fact, how ever, remains that for the whole of the journey, which occupied ten or twelve minutes, he howled vocifer ously. A more joyous cabman could scarcely have been discovered in all that part of London. At last he pulled his horse to a standstill, and descended from his seat. "This 'ere's the place," he said, "and that's the street he bolted down. Yer can't mistake it. Now let's have a look at yer suvering, guvner, and then I'll be off home to bed, and it's about time too." I paid him the sum I had prom ised him, and then made my way down the narrow street, in the direc tion Ha vie had taken. It was not more than a couple, of hundred yards long-, and was hemmed in on either baud by bquaUd cottages. As ii to emphasize the misery of the locality, \ and perhaps in a measure to account for it, at the further end I discov ered a gin-palace, whose flaring lights illuminated the streets on either hand with brazen splendor. A small knot of loafers were clustered on tiie pavement outside the public, and these were exactly the men I wanted. Addressing myself to them I inquired how long they had been in their present position. "best part of an hour, guv'ner," said one of them, pushing his hands deep down into his pockets, and executing a sort of double shuffle as he spoke. "Ain't doin' any harm 'ere, I 'ope. We was 'opin' as 'ow a gent like yourself would come along in the course of the evening just to ask us if we was thirsty, and wot we'd take for to squench it." "You shall have something to 'squench' it, if you can answer the questions I am going to ask you," I replied. "Did either of you see a gentleman cotne down this street, running, about half an hour or so ago?" "Was he carrying a rug and a bag?" asked one of the men, without hesitation. "He was," I replied. "He is the man I want. Which way did he go when he left here?" "He took Jim Boulter's cab," said another man, who had until a few moments before been leaning against the wall. "The Short 'Un was alook in' after it for 'im, and I heard him call Jimmy myself. He tossed the Short 'Un a bob, he did. when he got in. Such luck don't seem ever to come my way." "Where is the Short 'Un, as you call him?" I inquired, thinking that it might be to my advantage to in terview that gentleman. "A-drinkin' of his bob in there," the man answered. "Where d'ye think ye'd Vie a-seein' 'im? Bearin' 'isself proud like a real torf, and at closen' time they'll be chuckin' 'im out into the gutter, and then 'is wife'll come down, and they'll fight, an' most like both of 'em'll get jugged before they knows where they is, and come before the beak in the mornin'." "Look here," I said, "if one of you will go in and induce the gentleman of whom you speak to come out here and talk to me, I wbuld not mind treating the four of you to half a crown." The words had scarcely left my lips before a deputation had entered the house in search of the gentleman in question. When they returned with him one glance was sufficient to show me that the Short 'Un was in a decidedly inebriated condition. Hi 3 friends, however, deeming it possible that their chance of appreciating my liberality depended upon his condi tion being such as he could answer questions with some sort of intelli gence, proceeded to shake and pum mel him into something approaching sobriety. In one of his lucid inter "WHAT IS IT?" I INQUIRED. "ANY THING WRONG?" vals I inquired whether he felt equal to telling me in what direction the gentleman who had given him the shilling had ordered the cabman to drive him. He turned the question over and over in his mind, and then arrived at the conclusion that it was "some hotel close to Waterloo." This was certainly vague, but It encouraged me to persevere. "Think again," I said; "he must have given you some definite address." "Now I do remember," said the man,"it seems to me it was Fox well's hotel, Waterloo Road. That's where it was, Foxwell's hotel. Don't you know it? " 'Foxwell's Hotel Is a merry, merry place, When the jolly booze is tlowin', flowin' free.' Now chorus, gen'men." Having heard all I wanted to, I gave the poor wretches what I had promised them, and went in search of a cab. As good luck would have it I was able to discover one in the City Road, and in it I drove off in the direction of Waterloo, If Ilayle were really going to stay the night at Foxwell's hotel, then my labors had not been in vain, after all. But I had seen too much of that gentle man's character of late to put any trust in his statements, until I had verified them to my own satisfaction. I was not acquainted with Foxwell's hotel, but after some little search I discovered it. It was by no means the sort of place a man of Hayle's wealth would be likely to patronize, but remembering that he had par ticular reasons for not being en evi dence just at present, I could under stand his reasons for choosing such a hostelry. I accordingly paid off my cabman and entered the bar. Taking the young lady I found there a little on one side, I inquired wheth er a gentleman had arrived within the last lialf-hour, carrying a bag and a heavy traveling-rug;. CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JUNE 5, 1902. Much to my gratification she re plied that such a gentleman had cer tainly arrived within the past half hour, and was now at supper in the coffee-room. She inquired whether I would care to see him. I replied in the negative, stating that 1 would call next day and make myself known to him. "We are old friends," I said, "and for that reason 1 should be glad if you would promise me that you will say nothing to him about my coming to-night." Woman-like the idea pleased her, and she willingly gave the promise I asked. "If you want to see him you'd bet ter be here early," she said, "lie told me when he booked his room that he should be wanting to get away at about ten o'clock to-mor row morning." "I'll be here well before that," I replied. "If all goes right, I shall call upon him between eight and nine o'cock." Feeling sure that, after what I had said to her, she would say nothing to llayle about my visit, 1 returned to my own hotel and retired to rest. Next morning I was up betimes, had breakfasted, and was at l'ox well's hotel before eight o'clock had struck. I proceeded straight to the bar, where I discovered my ac quaintance of the previous evening, in curl papers, assiduously dusting shelves and counter. There was a fragrance of the last night's pota tions still hovering about the place, which had the dreary, tawdry ap pearance that was so different to the glamour of the previous night. I bade the girl good morning, and then inquired whether she had seen any thing of my friend. At first she did not appear to recognize me, but on doing so she volunteered togo off and make inquiries. She did so, to return a few moments later with the information that the gentleman "had rung for his boots, and would be down to breakfast in a few min utes." "I wonder what you will have to say for yourself when you see me, Mr. Hayle," I muttered. "You will find that I am not to be so easily shaken off as you imagine." I accordingly made my way to the dining-room, and seating myself at a table ordered a cup of coffee and an egg. The London egg is not a favorite of mine, but I was prepared to eat a dozen of them if necessary, if by so doing I could remain in the room long enough to find myself face to face with Gideon llayle. Sev eral people putin an appearance and commenced their morning repast, but when a quarter of an hour had elapsed and the man I wanted had not presented himself, my patience became exhausted and I went in search of my hourie of the bar. "My friend's a long time coming down," I said. "I hope he has not gone out to breakfast?" "You must be mistaken," she an swered. "I saw him come down stairs nearly a quarter of an hour ago. lie went into the dining-room, and I felt sure you must have seen him. If you will follow me I'll show him to you." So saying she led the way along the dingy passage until she arrived at a green baize door with two glass panels. Here she stopped and scanned the dining-room. The boots, who had just come upstairs from the lower regions, assisted in the operation, and seemed to derive con siderable satisfaction from it. "There he is," said the girl, point ing to a table in the furthest corner of the room; "the tall man with the black mustache." I looked and was consumed with disappointment. The individual I saw there was no more like Hayle than he was like the man in the moon. "Do you mean to tell me that he is the man who arrived late last night in a cab, and whose luggage consist ed of a small brown bag and a trav eling rug?" I asked. "You've been having a game with me, young wom an, and I should advise you to be careful. You don't realize who I am." "Hoighty toity," she said, with a toss of her head that sent her curl papers dancing. "If you're going to be nasty, I am going. You asked for the gentleman who came late last night with a bag, and there he is. If he's not the person you want, you mustn't blame me. I'm sure I'm not responsible for everybody's friends. Dear me, I hope not!" The shock-lieaded boots had all this time been listening with the greatest interest. He and the bar maid, it appeared, had had a quarrel earlier in the morning, and in con sequence were still far from being upon the best of terms. "The cove as the gent wants, miss, must be 'im as came close upon 11 o'clock last night," he put in."The toff with the bag and blanket. Why I carried kis bag up to number 47 with my own 'aiuls, and yovi know it." The girl was quite equal to the oc casion. "You'd better hold your tongue," she said. "If you don't you'll get into trouble." "What for?" he inquired. "It's a free country, I 'ope. Nice sort of toff 'e was, forgot all about the boots, and me a-doin' 'is browns as slap-up as if 'e was a-goin' out to dinner with the queen. But p'reaps he's left a 'arf-sovereign for me with you. It ain't likely. Oh, no, of course it isn't likely he would. You wouldn't keep it carefully for me, would you? Oh, no, in course not? What about that two bob the Amer ican gent gave you?" The girl did not wait to hear any more, but, with a final toss of her head, disappeared into the bar. "Now, look here, my friend," I said to the boots, "it is evident that you know more about this gentle man than that young lady does. Tell me all about him, and I'll make it worth your while." "There ain't much to tell," he an swered. "Leastways, nothin' partic ular. He was 110 end of a totf, great coat with silk collar, neat browns, gloves, and a bowler 'at." "Mustache?" "Yes, and waxed. Got a sort of broad-arrow 011 his cheek, and looked at ye as if 'is eyes was gimlets, and he wanted to bore a hole through yer; called at seven, breakfast at half-past, 'am and eggs and two cups of corfee and a roll, all took up to 'im in 'is room. Ordered a cab to catch the nine o'clock express to Southampton. I puts 'im in with his bag and blanket, and says: 'Kindly remember the boots, sir,' and he says: 'l've done it.' I said I 'adn't 'ail it, and he told me togo to—, well, the place as isn't mentioned in perlite company. That's all 1 know about 'im." lie paused and shook his head in the direction of the bar, after which he observed that he knew all about it, and one or two other things be side. I gave him a shilling for his infor mation and then left the house. Once more I had missed Gideon Hayle by a few minutes, but I had received some information that might help me to find liim again. Unfor tunately, however, he was now well on his way to Southampton, and in a few hours might be out of England. My respect for that astute gentleman was increasing hourly, but it did not deter me, only made me the more re solved to beat him in the end. Mak ing my way to Waterloo, I inquired when the next train left for South ampton. Finding that I had more than an hour and a half to wait, I telegraphed to the man I had sent to Southampton to watch the docks, and then took the electric railway to the city, and made my way to my of fice, where a pile of correspondence awaited me on my table. Calling my managing clerk to my assistance, I set to work to examine it. He opened the letters while I perused them and dictated the various re plies. When he came to the fifth he uttered an exclamation of surprise. "What is it?" I inquired. "Any thing wrong?" [To Be Continued.] AN ANTIQUATED BILL. Wanted I»ny fop Steer» Sold to Ura. Wailxvorth'i l'atlier In 1843. A man at least 80 years old came in to the office of Representative Wads worth, of New York, a few days ago. Mr. Wadsworth was out, but the clerk invited him to have a seat and wait for the congressman to return, says a Washington correspondent of the New York World. "My name is Williams," said the caller, "and I came into see if Mr. Wadsworth would pay a little bill X have against him." "Of course, he will," remarked the clerk. "Let me see it, and I will prob ably be able to settle it and save you the trouble of waiting for him." The old man passed the bill over to the clerk, whose face grew long as he saw that the bill was made out against the father of the congress man, who was killed in the civil war. "Why," he exclaimed, "this is against Gen. Wadsworth, who has been dead nearly 40 years." The old man said he knew that very well, but he thought it would do no harm to see if the son would not set tle it. "I heard just a few days ago that the general was dead, but, as 1 had planned to come on in a few days to ask him for the money, I thought I would see the son. You see, Mr. Wadsworth's father bought that pair of steers from m 6 in 1843. I didn't need the money then, but I think I do now, and t halt's why I came." A few questions elicited the fact that Mr. Williams lives 25 miles from the city, and that he had walked every foot of the way. The clerk urged the old man to prolong his stay when he began to get fidgety after waiting more than an hour for the congressman. "No," said he,"l guess I'd better toddle along and get back so as to take care of the stock." And he toddled. P.ut a registered letter followed him, and it was for ten dollars more than thfi face of the bill. Kindred Yleem. Rev. Justus Forward, settled in Bel chertown, Mass., a hundred years ago, once reproved a workman for swearing while he was plowing a new field. "Swear!" said themau. "Iguessyou'd swear!" Mr. Forward took the plow and hur ried after it, indignantly denying the charge. Then, as the field became more impassable, lie began panting: "I never did see the like! I never did see the like!" When he had gone once round the field he stopped, breathless, and said: "There, you see, I didn't find it neces sary to swear." "No," drawled the other man, "but you've told more'n 50 lies. You said you never did see the like, and you saw it all the time 1 was plowin'."—Youtli'3 Companion. Rqnnlixlnt; Thlnica. Harkins —A woman always takes off a few years when she gives her age. Barker —That may be; but she makes up for it by adding a few years when she gives the age of her friend. —Bos- ton Transcript. A Grave tiuoNtlon. Considering all the trouble it is to take care of one's self, it is a grave question sometimes whether it really pays to live.—Washington (la.) Dern ocraU "HANDS ACROSS THE SEA." **"* * «-■ ,T ;'••' -•.. j - :J —New York Herald. WIT AND WISDOM. You never lift up a life without be ing yourself lifted up.—Emerson. To ease another's heartache is to for get one's own.—Abraham Lincoln. 'Tis far better to love and be poor than be rich with an empty heart. — Lewis .Morris. It is ever true that he who does nothing for others does nothing for himself. —Goethe. Justice may be blind, but she is able to judge people by their conversation. —Chicago Daily News. Fruitless is sorrow for having done amiss if it issue not in a resolution to do so no more.—Bishop Home. Ever think how much trouble your conceit gets you into? If you can pos sibly do so look at your own affairs as others look at them. —Atchison Globe. "Awful hot weather!" "Yes, but you grumbled when 'twas snowing." "Of course. It was then that I wanted the hot weather."—Atlanta Constitution. "It's a curious thing," mused the landlady. "I never have any trouble pleasing any of my boarders unless 1 let them get two weeks behind on their bills." —Indianapolis News. "Say, ma!" "Yes, Reginald." "Kin any little boy be president when he grows up?" "Yes, Reginald." "But say, ma." "Yes, Reginald." "He don't have to, if he'd ruther be a firstbase man, does he?" —Indianapolis News. PRESERVATION OF WOOD. There Are Many I linen lon* Method* !»>• Which Timber l» Kept from Decay, On South street are several con cerns whose business is the preserva tion of wood. Each has its own fa vorite method, and each experiments more or less toward obtaining bet ter and cheaper systems. The prob lem is very involved, and is full of rich reward for successful inventors, says the New York l'ost. "I have been in the business for 20 years," said a member of one of these houses, "and although in that time the trade has progressed considerably, yet still much remains to be done, and who ever does it efficiently w.vll make a large fortune. In spite of the sub stitution of iron and steel for wood in house and bridge building, and iii the construction of ships, piers, and other structures, the consumption of wood increases yearly. All wood de cays, and its value depends chiefly upon its durability. The element of decay is only one factor in the dura bility. Besides decay, there is the de struction of wood by teredos and oth er marine creatures, and in tropical countries by the white ants and other forms of insect life. The simplest method of preservation is charring. Every old farmer knows that if he burns the end of a chestnut post in the lire until it is covered with a thin coat of charcoal, it will last from ten to 30 years? longer when set up in the ground, than if put there in its normal condition. Next to this are the paints, which do excellent work in cold and temperate climates. A piece of wood painted every two or three years will last centuries, but this does not apply to wood em ployed on ships or in the piles of wharves and bridges. Marine animals bore through the paint and attack the wood beneath it. The paint acts a-s a protector, but the protection is small and limited. In this field the best results have been obtained by the use of coal tar, copper paint, arsenic paint and mercurial paint. When you reach the tropics, paint is almost worthless, so far as prevent ing the attacks of white ants is con cerned. They bore a hole through the paint, go into the interior of the log or timber, and eat out all the tissues without disturbing the paint skin on the outside. The only proc ess which seems absolutely efficient is to charge the wood with some poisonous fluid, which is antiseptic, non-volatile, and permanent. Solu tions of zinc, iron, copper, arsenic and mercury have been tried, and have all given good results. The best were obtained by forcing through the pores of the wood a strong solution of the double chloride of ammonia and mercury. After the wood was charged it was laid aside to dry, dur ing which operation the ammonia and the water evaporated, leaving the corrosive sublimate uniformly dis tributed through the ligneous tis sues. This made the lumber proof against any form of animal life. Why is it not universally used? The cost. It requires a heavy press ure and expensive apparatus, and the mercury itself is worth some -IM- u lialf-dulliU" M pound." VANITY OF THE DRAKE. Kntert 111 n inif K*lill»ltlon of Mnscia* line W>akne!H Given by k Solitary .Milliard. William Saunders, of Aransas coun ty, Tex., known commonly as "Goose Bill," killed a pood many ducks and geese last winter. He hunts on three days of the week in a great game country, and the aggregate slaughter inflicted by him is tremendous, sava a local informant of the New York Sun. The geese and ducks he kills hia memory merges into one nearly in distinguishable mass. To him one day is pretty much like another, and he has to refer to his notebook, wherein he sets down his totals, if he wishes to remember any special incident clearly. One thing happened to him, however, that stands out, and he is fond of telling about it. He had made a good before-break fast kill, beginning to shoot as soon as it was light enough to see. After feeding himself and smoking a pipe, he shouldered his gun, stuffed some luncheon into his pocket, and, ac companied by his old liver-colored re triever, started for an inspection of the various senna ponds. He did not expect to kill much, but he wanted to find where the ducks were doing most of their feeding. He walked and walked, making an occa sional shot, and hanging the bird to his game strap, and when 12 o'clock came he was tired and hungry. Five miles from camp he found a jewel of a pond hidden between the rolls of the prairie. It was not more than three acres in extent, deep and clear. Its surface, unruffled by a breeze, was like a great steel mirror in a frame of brown. At one end grew three large live oaks in a clump standing back ten feet from the wa ter's edge and between them and the water was a thin growth of senna weeds three feet high. Saunders sat with his back against one of these trees, spread his lunch eon and ate it, fed the dog lying at his feet, then started the pipe going, closed his eyes, and was happy. The sky was brilliantly clear, and there was not enough wind to stir a leaf of the live oaks. A sudden splash caused him to look out over the pond. A hundred yards away a single mallard drake had pitched. The sunlight streamed on the duck, and his green head gleamed like an emerald. 11a was in perfect condition, and his feathers shone. He admired himself greatly, gazing earnestly at his reflection in the glassy water, preening his wings and back, arching his neck to inspect his beautiful breastplate, and turning his head to see that the little jetty curl at the base of his tail was just right. Then he dived, coming up two yards away, swam rapidly in circles, and stood upon his tail,revolving rap idly with beating wings. He did not utter a call, being perfectly satis tied with himself and desiring no company. For 15 minutes he gave an exhibi tion of male vanity that made Saun ders ashamed of his sex. He left nothing undone to show off himself to himself. The dog was asleep, and the man remained motionless. The evolutions of the drake brought him nearer and nearer to the clump of live oaks. Saunders could have killed him at any time after he came within range, but had no desire to do murder; he wanted to see the play played out. Finally the mallard came to the very edge of the water and sat for a moment not four yards away, uncon scious of an enemy, still tickled with his beauty. Saunders sprang to his feet, towering over him, and yelled: "(iit!" The drake was semi-paralyzed. He wheeled and started away in a piti ful violent effort at (light. His wing tips beat the surface; his legs trailed on the water for 50 yards. Finally he soared and headed southward. As long as he was in sight his neck was stretched as far as it would go, and he was making a bee line for open sea. ( hi'ini ami CoiiMolinit, "Yes," replied the western man, weKometimes make mistakes in hang ing a stranger. I've known of sev eral instances where we hung up an innocent man." "And what do you do in such cases?" was inquired. "O, we even things up by passing a resolution that his gain was our loss. It doesn't cost anything, you know, and always soothes inquiring rciAtltCfi, ■—Lu'i.iu L«IO<JC.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers