Bemorralic aldpony
. an old governess.
Bellefonte, Pa., June 15, 1900.
THE PUZZLED CENSUS TAKER.
“Got any boys 2” the Marshal said
To a lady from over the Rhine;
And the lady shook her flaxen head
And civilly answered, “Nein.”
“Got any girls?’ the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again the lady shook her head
And civillly answered, “Nein.”
“But some are dead 7’ the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again the lady shook her head
And civilly answered, “Nein.”
“Husband of ccurse ?’ the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again she shook her flaxen head
And civilly answered, “Nein.”
“The devil you have !’ the Marshal said
To the lady from over the Rhine;
And again the lady shook her head
And civilly answered, “Nein.”
“Now, what do you mean by shaking your
head
And always answering ‘Nein ?
“Ich kann nicht English,” civilly said
The woman from over the Rhine.
—John G. Saxe.
THE ORDEAL OF ISABEL.
A concert in the morning, a gay little
luncheon, the committee meeting of a
charitable organization, the earliest studio
tea of the winter, and afterwards a visit to
It had been a day which
would have seemed crowded to some of the
toilers of the world, but to Isabel Vinton,
an idle woman of ‘ashion, it was merely
the usual round. Intending to go to a
ball later, she went to her room after din-
ner to lie down, read the letters brought
by the last post, and look over the evening
per.
Her letters were circulars. She opened
the paper and sprang up, gazing with
shining eyes at a black headline:
PARTHIAN’S PLUM.
ITALIAN PORTFOLIO GOES TO BRILLIANT
YOUNG EDITOR.
WILL ACCEPT THE POST.
No doubt now that Noel Parthian will be
new Minister to Italy. Successful
career of the young author-editor.
Neither d'd Isabel doubt his decision.
Successful as he always was, she knew the
ambition he cherished to be in the service
of his country, and the serene dignity of
this appointment befitted the sensitive
pride which would have shrunk from a po-
sition whose winning involved the person-
alities of a political contest.
‘‘His heart’s desire has come to him in
the best years of his manhood.’ She
flushed vividly. Self-remembrance rushed
across her first selfless rejoicing.
‘*His heart’s Cesire I’ she repeated soft-
ly. ‘‘And mine?”
She shrank back among the pillows,
while memory and instinct assured her
that this was the crisis of life for her as
well as for him.
At eighteen, half a child and dazzled by
the dawn of her triumphs as a beauty and
an heiress, Isabel Vinton had refused with
airy peremptoriness the penniless young
lover whom summer chances had brought
in her way. During six years she did
not see him, and only thought of him when
a poem of his recalled him to her remem-
brance. Then, after an ahsence in Europe,
she found him conspicuous among her fav-
orite clique, editor of a leading magazine,
a poet of eminence as poets rank nowadays.
The renewed acquaintance thus forced
upon them had long since reached the
point again where love had been exiled,
and in the months which intervened Isabel
had grown to believe that the exile of the
past would return to become the sovereign
of the future if
It was a mighty *‘if”’ which at times
darkened all the horizon of the woman’s
dreams with the shadow of the girl’s folly.
He loved ker, but he had not forgiven
her. If some day he could offer her a for-
tune or a position greater than she possess-
ed he might come to her again; never
otherwise; and she, searching her own
heart, knew that eshe justified him. To-
night—which had crowned his ambition—
would it glorify her belief in his love?
*
She was dressing for the ball when her
maid brought her a note from him.
“I misled you everywhere this afternoon, and
this evening I am forced to fulfill an engagement
which gives me no hope of seeing you! Will you
be so gracious as to let me come to you, alone, to-
morrow afternoon.
The bold writing had faltered, Isabel
could almost divine the passionate entreaty
of his eyes.
‘You have by this time heard part of that
which 1 desire to teil you, and von must under-
stand that I am half mad with the longing to tell
you the rest of it, but pen and ink or not utter
it; and so, because a madman dares ask what a
sane man would not venture, beg you to keep
Wl Your dances for me to-night at the ball, where
I shall not see you.
Her reply note was a couple of lines.
*This is your day of days when nothing is re-
fused you. Nor is to-morrow likely to withhold
anything worth having that to-day would have
given you.
When her maid returned after taking
the note to the messenger Isabel sat gazing
into the fire. ‘‘I shall not go to the ball,’
she said softly. ‘‘Good-night.”’
Isabel Vinton was a woman appreciative
of the responsibilities of her wealth, and
she would not shrink from a business ap-
pointment next morning, though she
would rather have idly contemplated her-
tender assurance of happiness.
As she drove homeward up Fifth Avenue
about noon she paled with a curious pres-
age of evil. Madam de Roux’s Victoria
waited before a certain publishing house,
while Parthian talked to that charming
person and popular author with such in-
terest that Isabel passed unseen.
Now Madam de Roux had been an in-
fluence of uneasiness to Isabel during re-
cent months because her intimacy with
Parthian seemed but scantily explained
by their assertion of collaboration in a
play. Bitter, therefore, was it that he
who last night had desired to possess all
her thoughts—even such as are bestowed
on chance waltzes—should be to-day so far
from remembrance of her that she could
pass unobserved.
The next instant she assured herself that
he and Madam de Roux had, of course,
important affairs to discuss, as that lady
was about to sail for Europe. And was
not the earnestness of his attention to
every present interest a characteristic
charm ?
He had not asked for a special hour of
the afternoon, and though she had fancied
he would come early, five o'clock sounded
before she grew impatient. At six im-
patience had lapsed into anxiety, and be-
tween six and eight she endured that tor-
ture of impotence which women suffer,
with fear for men in whom they have no
authorized possession which could seek
aaa ——— as
news of them to whom their hearts be-
long. '
x
But if she could not seek news, she
could go to meet it. At eight she drove
to a dinner where he also was bidden.
Every tick of the clock hurt her while the
hostess waited for a tardy guest, and she
know that laggard to be Parthian.
Finally, with a shrug of her white
shoulders, the hostess put her hand on the
arm of her chief guest.
“Mr. Parthian’s new glories seem ‘o
have destroyed his memory, or his mean-
pers,’’ she said somewhat tartly. ‘I have
given him full measure of grace and he has
neither come nor written.”’
“Did we wait for Parthian ?’’ her escort
demanded with the frank regret of a hun-
gry man for that quarter of an hour’s
futile waiting. ‘‘I could have told you he
would not turn up. As I prssed the Union
station he dashed from a hansom, making
an evident spurt for a train.”
The next day to Isabel was a flutter of
expectancy for a letter or telegram-for him.
The day following was devoured by a
growing flame of resentment.
Was this ignominy of suspense the pen-
ance imposed by that unforgiveness she had
always divined in his love for her? If she
were but sure, she would refuse her life to
the keeping of such a tyrant, even though
her heart should break as the price of her
freedom.
The newspapers, meantinie, teemed with
flattering paragraphs on Parthian’s work
or his personality ; a new edition of his
poems was advertised by his publishers;
but there was never a word of his where-
abouts or his movements.
With her first glance at the columns of
an evening paper on the third day
the feverish atmosphere of sus-
pense aud anger in which she had lived for
days grew suddenly chill. Those staring
headlines which for hours Isabel saw
whenever she closed her eyes announced
that Parthian had declined the ministry to
Italy, and that at the office of his maga-
zine it was stated that he had resigned the
editorship on the same plea of urgent pri-
vate affairs which he had assigned to the
President. Further, it had been ascer-
tained that a cabin was reserved in his
name on the Cunard steamer sailing next
week, and it was assumed that these vital-
ly important private affairs were taking
him away from the country he had no de-
sire to serve. The article ended with re-
gret for the sacrifice of a career which
promised brilliantly along either of two
such widely different lines, and with the
conclusion, final as an epitaph on a tomb-
stone, that poets were incomprehensible to
their less highly endowed fellow creatures.
Isabel, sitting with hands clasped to
numbness and her face grown old and
stern, told herself that she did not find
this poet incomprehensible. Poets were
doubtless more prone than their fellow-
creatures to the mad abandon of repute and
advantage for the gratification of a passion.
Did not Madam de Roux also sail in
next week’s Cunard steamer ? If this were
more than a coincidence, was it not incum-
bent on the man to resign the rewards of
publicly appreciated talents without other
uttered excuse than urgent private affairs ?
The power of feigning developed by even
the frankest women in one special need is a
wonder as old as the first love-story. Isa-
bel was never more radiant than at a dance
that night when she serenely ascribed
Parthian’s extraordinary conduct to an
improvident poetical temperament which
preferred leisure for literary work to the
solid benefits of the two positions from
which he had withdrawn. And nobody
guessed, unless perhaps some other wom-
an. that her vivid face and brilliant eyes
were lit by burning humiliation.
* 0%
*
Several days elapsed, during which,
much mention as. she heard of Parthian,
she gained no personal news of him except
that visitors at his lodgings bad been told
that he was absent from the city.
These were days tor which Isabel after-
ward made a grave in her memory—days
when every faith tottered with the wreck
of her love, and when beneath even the
bitter memory of her reply to his note, the
very dregs of misery to her was the degra-
dation of the man she bad set so high.
Friday came without sight or sign of
Parthian, and he was to sail on the mor-
row. It happened to be her afternoon at
home, and she was talking and making
tea when ‘‘Mr. Parthian’’ was announced.
Even in the half light of shaded lamps
he looked worn and ill, but he barely
touched her fingers, and his voice was
cherry as he exclaimed:
‘‘Please accept for various broken en-
gagements, the heartfelt regrets of a man
who has not left his bed since nearly a
week.”’
‘‘We heard that you were out of town.”’
“I am blessed with a servant who lies
with so honest a countenance that he would
deceive the Father of Lies instead of mere-
ly the average newspaper reporter,’’ he an-
swered lightly. “And my physician in-
sisted upon solitary confinement for me if
I intended to sail to-morrow.”
A chorus of questions broke from the
group around the fire.
‘‘Are you really off to-morrow ?”’
**What has been the matter with you ?”’
‘*Is your health the ‘urgent private af-
fair’ which has made you cast aside two
such pretty baubles 2°
*
Isabel alone was silent as she gave him a
cup of tea, and with a gay gesture of pro-
test against the onslaught of inquiry he
emptied the cup hurriedly before he re-
plied.
“My illness was overwork,’’ he said,
dropping into a chair. ‘My private af-
fairs are still exclusively my own, and I
really start for Europe to-morrow.’’
*“We are, snubbed !”” a pretty woman
laughed, uttering the resentful dumbness of
the others.
Parthian glanced quickly about the cir-
cle with the smile which made cbarming
his thin, clear cut countenance.
“Forgive some abruptness, my friends.
I hate going away too much to like talking
about it,” he exclaimed, and turned to the
pretty woman who lamented that a winter
in Europe was to he bestowed upou one
who did not desire such a good fortune.
Everybody rose presently with a flutter
of farewells.
Then Parthian and Isabel were alone.
He made no movement toward a chair,
and she also stood motionless during an
instant, in which she saw that speaking
was yet more difficult to him than to her-
self.
*‘I shall not see you,’ he repeated just
aloud.
Her words had been the utterance of
plans she had scarcely considered, and
merely announced a final severance from
any anticipation of his return.
But the tone of his low voice pierced her
love for him through her armor of con-
temptuous jealously.
‘‘What has happened to you. Tell me !”’
she entreated.
He caught her hand in one of his own,
while with the other he lifted the silken
shade from a lamp near by.
Of the remembered looks which stira
woman’s heart to youth when she is old,
Isabel will most cherish that with which
his haggard eyes adored her when the
white, unshielded light fell full upon her.
Such longing, such despair was in those
eyes—the eyes she loved—that she forgot
all but her impulse to comfort him.
“Nothing should take you away if it is
so great a grief to go.” she whispered.
He shut his eyes and dropped her hand.
*‘Good-by !"’ he murmured.
Half a dozen people hustled gayly into
the room, and while she was greeting them
he went away.
*o%
A couple of hours later Isabel sealed in-
to her heart a debate as she drove to a din-
ner.
It ever love and surrender had gazed at a
woman from the eyes of a man she had
seen them in Parthian’s eyes that afternoon
—yet no shame? Ah, yes! she reminded
herself with scornful lips, men called it
honor to keep a shameful bond and sacrifice
their highest love to it.
He was gone. She had done with love
and happiness. In the thirty or forty years
that stretched before her there remained
much she might find worth doing, and time
for heartache over every glance and word
of his. But now she must so play her part
among curious critics that none should say
that she had been forsaken.
The dinner was a small one. Eight
friendly people gathered about a reund,
rose crowned table. The women were pret-
ty and clever; the men eminent in ways
which contrasted without clashing. Even
Isabel was aroused to a fitful pleasure in
the gay talk, and her attention was at last
fixed by the celebrated physician who was
her neighbor.
“It is a monopoly which is good for us,”’
he replied to the laughing self pity of the
host. a well known judge, who had lament-
ed that his profession left him scant time
for sympathetic contemplation of the
world’s progress. ‘‘Neither mind nor heart
could bear the addition of outside sympa-
thies to the demands our professions make
upon us.’’
‘You are right, as I prove more stren-
uously than you,” the judge agreed grave-
ly. “To pronounce a death sentence isa
strain even upon accustomed nerves, un-
guessed by those who hear.”’
*‘] maintain my work to be beset with
severer tests,’’ the doctor said. ‘*You pro-
nounce sentence on a wretch whose crimes
have made him a menace to society, which,
through your lips, decides to be rid of him.
Your flesh shivers, perhaps, with pity for
his flesh, but your spirit approves that he
is to be rewarded according to his deeds.
‘Whereas I may pronounce sentence not up-
on a criminal’s body, but upon the innocent
happiness of a girl, or upon the noble am-
bition of a man whose strong hands grasp
the great prizes of talent and energy. For
as you know, I am an oculist, and blind-
ness in most cases limits as finally as death
either happiness or ambition.”’
Such words spoken with such solemnity
were not to be answered quickly. In the
silence which followed, Isabel woke for the
first time in a week from the absorption
of her own life’s crisis to an aching pity for
the weltschmerz which throbs through the
centuries.
‘A few days ago,” the doctor went on,
‘‘a man came to me—a widely known man
in the early prime of life, with the world at
his feet—and I delivered a sentence which
berejt him of all he had won and all he yet
hoped to win. I believe I speak with au-
thority on the disease from which helsuffers,
so far as my knowledge goes, he will be
blind within a few months.”’
*
A shock as from electricity thrilled Isa-
bel. She was again in her drawing room,
saying with forced steadiness, ‘‘If you do
not return within a few months you will
not see me.’’
Again she heard Parthian’s low echo of
her words, ‘‘I shall not see you !”’
Again he thrust the shade from the lamp
and gazed at her with such eyes asa lost
soul might gaze upon the blessed.
‘Presently the hostess arose. ‘‘Talk of
something more cheery, if you can,
you men,’’ she exclaimed. ‘We wo-
men are too well aware of the lumps in our
throats to talk as all !”?
Isabel looked up at the doctor as he
stood while she passed.
“Come to me soon,”’ she murmured.
“My need is vital.”
“I see that it is,’ he answered.
follow you ina moment.”
A plea of headache permitted her to es-
cape to the comparative solitude of a how
window at the further end of the drawing-
room.
HT will
* *
*
She had no doubt that she had heard the
story of Parthian’s doom. For a moment
her spirit was atghis knees, repenting the
base motives with which her jealousy had
poisoned her judgment of him. But the
shame of her injustice was swept away by
her yearning to the misery which over-
whelmed him, whose capacity for suffering
she knew to be more intense than that of
tougher-fibred natures.
“If you do not return within a few
months you will not see me,’’ she began
formally.
What was there that he had striven for
all the years of his manhood what had not
been torn from him in the instant of reali-
zation ?—ambition, usefulness, love—
“No!no! Notlove, my dear!’ Isabel
murmured with passionate pardon for his
doubt of her tenderness which she now be-
lieved to be the reason of his silence.
She quivered with eagerness. The even-
ing was going. The steamer was advertis-
ed to sail at dawn on the morrow. Would
the doctor never come to make her guessing
certainty ?
*o%
*
He walked down the room to her with
simple directness.
“I was unprofessional to allude to a case
even so vaguely,” he said with a smile
which was like the reassuring pressare of a
strong hand. ‘‘But my patient is persist-
ently in my thoughts.”
‘“‘What you said would only betray him
to one to whom it explains his sudden
sweep of his future,’”’ she answered with
soft vehemence. ‘‘I know that itis like
Noel Parthian so to resign the diguities to
which he had meant to add honor—Ilike him
to stand aside from a happiness he had
meant to stand on equal terms—Ilike him
to rush away to hide his hopelessness as if
he were some savage, hurt creature——'’
‘‘He is not quite hopeless,’’ the doctor
interposed. ‘‘The oculist to whom he went
in Boston confirmed my view. But I have
sent him toa German specialist who is
more experienced in such cases than I, and
whose word I will accept with conviction
should he give 1t against mine.”’
Isabel’s hands were flung out to him,and
he patted them as though she had been one
of his children.
‘‘You guess—you understand,’’ she mur-
mured presently. ‘“Why do I not mind ?”’
‘‘Doctors are the confessors of all creeds’’
he said gently. ‘‘And this doctor must
confess himself also. After Parthian had
written his letters of resignation to the
President and to his magazine people. on
his return from Boston, he was prostrate
with fever for several days and I heard
your name many times when he was un-
conscious of its utterance. Will you for-
give me that, meeting you here, I have
used strategy hoping to gain for him that
which may save him to happiness and use-
fulness—even if the German specialist de-
cides against him ?”’
Isabel rose. ‘You havesaved me in try-
ing tosave him,” she murmured. ‘“‘God
bless you for both !”’
Isabel’s mood had passed beyond the
consideration of conventionality when she
stepped into her carriage. She gave Par-
thian’s address to her footman as mechani-
cally as if she had said ‘‘Home,’* and she
confronted Parthian’s servant, when he
opened his master’s door, with a like for-
getfulness of curiosity or conjecture.’
**Mr. Parthian in!’
**Yes, Miss Vinton, but—-"’
She passed him and entered the sitting-
room, where she had made tea for. many a
gay assemblage.
Parthian, who leaned idly on the high
mantel shelf, lifted his head from his fold-
ed arms and stared at her dumbly.
The haggard helplessness of his silence
was more eloquent to her than many
words.
*‘Noel — I know,”” she faltered, and
stretched out two trembling hands to him,
but he stood passive.
‘All these years I have meant to come to
you with my triumph,’’ he said. ‘You
shall not come to my defeat with pity."
“If your triumph was to be mine, your
defeat must he mae also,”’ she said. **And
only love can bring me to either."
With a great sob he caught her in his
arms, and his head sank on her shoulder.
‘My defeat will he so entire—the years
of it may be so many,’’ he murmured pres-
ently. "How can I doubt that your youth,
your brilliance will some day regret — 2’
“Some day I will forgive your doubts
and you shall forgive my injustice,” she
whispered her wet cheek close to his dark
hair. “But now—and then—and always—
no defeat shall be entire to either of us if I
may be—your eyes to you!’—By Ellen
Mackubin in the Saturday Evening Post.
Death Valley, California.
Death Valley is probably the most uni-
que natural feature in California. It is
located in the southeast corner of Incyo
County, and is inclosed by the Panamint
Mountains on the west and the Funeral
Range on the east. It isseventy-five miles
long, aud its narrowest point but eight
miles wide.
At one time, most probably, it was the
bed of an ancient river. The lowest de-
pression is 200 feet below sea level, but
above this rises Telescope Peak, 11,000 ft.
high, of the Panamint Range, and directly
opposite the Funeral Peak, which reaches
an altitude of 8,000 feet. During the win-
ter these peaks aie covered with snow.
This remarkable valley was discovered
in 1850 by a party of immigrants, many of
whom lost their lives in the attempt to
cross it. The name has clung to it, also,
as being the scene of numberless tragedies.
Early in its history traditions of gold and
silver deposits of wonderful richness with-
in its boundaries persuaded many adven-
turous persous to undertake the hazardous
experiment of its exploration. The num-
ber who have lost their lives in this deso-
late field is undoubtedly great. Pursuing
the mirage of rich deposits of precious met-
als these ad vanturous prospectors succumb-
ed at last to the intolerable heat and the
agonies of thirst.
The range of the thermometer is proba-
bly greater in Death Valley than e!sewhere
in the Western hemisphere. In winter the
temperature is way below zero, while in
July and Aug. the thermometer ranges for
weeks at 137° above, frequently rising sev-
eral degrees higher. For weeks at a time
the lowest temperature observed exceeded
100°. The deadly heat burns every vestige
of vegetation. The Spanish bayonet, a
plant that flourishes under the most arid
conditions, here barely survives, while the
mesquite, with its long roots penetrating
deep into the earth in search of scanty
moisture, just manages to exist.
A party of enterprising agriculturists
once experimented with growing fruit and
vegetables in this region, anticipating large
profits in the early marketing of their crops.
The attempt was a complete failure, the
intense heat withering the plants, notwith-
standing copious supplies of water and the
most skillful cultivation. In the higher
altitudes of the Panamints there are nu-
merous valleys with flowing streams. In
these, fruits are cultivated, and reach the
market two months before the California
products mature.
The prevailing winds in Death Valley
are from the west. Though originating in
the Pacific Ocean and saturated with
humidity in traveling the intermediate
distance, they are intercepted by the lofty
peaks of four ranges of mountains, which
absorb all of their moisture, so that by the
time they reach the valley all humidity
has disappeared. The blasts are as if heated
in a fiery furnace, and no living thing can
survive the intense heat. Even birds, in-
digenous to the region, die.
It is in the months of greatest heat that
the sand storms of Death Valley are most
deadly. They rage with intense fury, ob-
literating the landscape and dimming the
light of the sun, withering the scanty vege-
tation and covering the trails deep in
powdered dust. At all times the aspect of
the valley is superlatively desolate. No
spot on earth surpasses it in aridity or top-
het-like heat.
Daring the heated term an hour without
water means death. Meat becomes putrid
in an hour. Eggs are cooked in the blis-
tering sand. Water is only palatable by
means of large porous earthenware jars,
common to all het countries, suspended in
drafts and reduced in temperature by
means of the rapid evaporation of the mois-
ture from the outside.
The belief that the borax marshes are the
remains of the vast lake which once filled
the valley is supported by traces of water-
line found 600 feet above, on the mountain
sides.
In general appearance all borax marshes
are alike. They are located at the point
of greatest depression and from a distance
look like deposits of salt or snow. Under
the surtace is common wet clay or water of
varying depths. These deposits are gen-
erally ciicular in form and appear as
though once they were craters. Borax was
created hy contact of boracic acid in gase-
ous form, with the lime and soda of the
surface. At Teels Marsh, Nevada, borate
of lime appears in the form of balls im-
bedded in clay along with soda, salt, ete.,
but at Columbus these are found in sandy
soil. Sometimes these balls are decom-
posed, underlying the soil which is remov-
ed, and the borate shoveled out. Deposits
of crude borate of soda are found in Nevada
and in Death Valley, at the Monte Blanco
mines.
|
Mad Dog Scare. |
The Following Sensible Advice, Which is the Opinion
of Every Thoughtful and Ihtelligent Dog Owner Was
Written for the New York Sun.
With the approach of summer comes the
usual ‘‘mad dog’’ scare. These scares in a
great majority of cases are the result of ig-
norance and prejudice. For eight or nine
years I made it a practice to personally in-
vestigate ‘‘mad dog’’ scares. I found that
in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred
that the scare was groundless, that the dog
was not mad, and thatall the fantastic and
terrible incidents were filled in by the im-
aginative reporter.
I have been a close student of dog life
from my boyhood . I have bred, trained
and treated dogs of most breeds, and al-
though I have visited the kennels, refuges
and dog pounds of various countries and
seen many thousands of stray ‘‘vagabond
dogs.””. Lhave yet to see a genuine case of
rabies. This, I may say, is a common ex-
perience with veterinary surgeons. Hun-
dreds of them: after years of active practice.
declare that although they may have been
callel upon to treat dogs for all kinds of
ailments, they have not seen a case of true
rabies. Take the testimony of Dr. Stock-
well, a celebrated authority on dog disease.
He says: ‘‘True rabies present multiple and
varied phenomena without a single constant
feature, hence its presence is with difficulty
determined even by an expert. Indeed, so
erratic is its symptoms and its manifesta-
tions that it is a greatly mooted point
whether it exists a malady sui generis at all.
Distemper, toothache, earache, epilepsy,
and the whole class of nervous diseases to
which dogs are subject are constantly mis-
taken for it.”” *‘Personally,” he adds,
‘after more than thirty years’ experience
as a dog owner and student of canine and
camparative medicine, I have yet to meet
with a genuine case of 1abies in the dog,
and of some scores of so-called rabid dogs
submitted to me for my inspection I found
them one and all suffering from other and
comparatively innocent diseases.’
This, as I said before, is not by any means
an uncommon experience among veterinary
surgeons.
In the spring of 1897 a ‘mad dog’’ scare
was raised in London (England) by a cer-
tain class of people who had a great com-
mercial interest in raising ‘mad dog’?
scares (muzzle manufacturers); they, as
usual, received every assistance from a
credulous public and sensational press.
The Board of Agriculture finally took the
matter up and issued an order to the effect
that all dogs appearing on the public high-
way should be tightly muzzled with a wire
cage muzzle invented by the aforesaid
manufacturers. During the first three
months of the scare over sixteen thousand
dogs were seized in the streets as ‘'vaga-
bond strays,’’ and not a single case of rabies
was discovered among them.
It should be born in mind that dogs, like
men, are subject to certain diseases. They
have their disease of puppyhood and old
age; they have their stomachic and nervous
troubles just as we have. and require intel-
ligent treatment and kind attention to pull
them through these attacks. If dog own-
ers would only take a more intelligent in-
terest in their pets we should hear less of
“mad dog’’ scares. Dogs to be kept healthy
should be fed twice a day regularly. I cou-
sider the scraps from the table the best food
for dogs of all sizes. The dog gets a change
which is beneficial. Never try to make an
old dog eat dog biscuits ; if he can eat them
he will do so without much urging.
I have had dogs that would have starved
rather than eat them. He should have a
meal of meat twice a week, and cooked
liver once; this will keep his bowels in
good condition. Always see that your dog
is well supplied with plenty of good clean
water; dogs will not drink from a dirty
bowl, nor will they drink foul water unless
they are forced to it from extreme thirst.
Always look to the teeth of your puppy ;
this is a matter of the greatest importance,
as they have their teething fits and similar
such troubles like other infants; feel their
gums occasionally, and if you find a loose
tooth draw it: the roots are perfectly
straight and it can be drawn by the fingers.
A puppy should always be treated for
worms at the age of two months; he is al-
most sure to have them.
Treat your dog intelligently and humane-
ly, and you will have a friend and com-
panion who will stand by you and with
you under all circumstances.
ARTHUR WESTCOTT.
289 Fourth Avenue, New York.
Birth of a New Voice.
8t. Louis Girl Who, During Illness, Developed a Won-
derful Baritone.
Black diphtheria has given a St. Louis
girl a wonderful baritone voice, worth a
pot of money.
Two years ago her voice had no quality
and she did not pretend to sing. To-day
she stands on the threshhold of a musical
career.
There is passion and power in her voice.
Listening, without gazing upon the face of
the pretty singer, one would declare that
it was the out-pouring of a man’s soul.
And the marvel of the metamorphosis is
that there is nothing of the female con-
tralto in the velvety throat notes. It isa
baritone of the most powerful tone.
Judges of musical technique have told
the happy posscesor of this strange new
voice she may have the lovers of harmony
at her feet if she will cultivate her oddly
given genius.
The young woman is awakening from
the long lethargy of nvalidism to a full
and wonderful realization of lier divine
gift. For six months she could not speak
ahove a whisper, and then only with great
pain. She was even given up at one time,
hut a strong constitution and a brave will
enabled her to live.
One day, seated at the piano, she dream-
ily touched the keys, opened her lips and
awoke. A voice she had never heard stirred
the still room, a rich and deep tune that
frightened her. Bewildered and afraid she
timidly touched the keys again and finger-
ed them. Then suddenly, she tlirew back
her head and let her lungs exert full power.
It was the birth of the new voice. The
spectre of disease had fled and the spirt of
a young song had come with the change in
the vocal muscles.
Offers have been made to the young
woman to place herself in tk2 best musical
preparatory schools in America.
The Clock and the Car.
“Is that clock right ?’’ he asked after it
had struck 11.
“Why ?’’ she answered.
“Because if it is, I shall have plenty of
time to catch the 11:30 car.
“I remember now,’’ she said, ‘‘that the
clock is about 20 minutes slow. If yon
hurry you will just about catch the car.”
During the 20 minutes that he stood on
the corner he arrived at the painful conclu-
sion that she didn’t really love him as he
longed to he loved.
——Suberibe for the WATCHMAN,
“Boxers” in China are Reported to Have
Killed Many Evangelists.
Native Troops Passive in the Insurrection. Treaty
Powers May be Called Upon to Save Religious Work
in the Far East. Chinese Officials Divided.
PEKIN, June 12.—A native evangelist,
who has escaped from Yung-Ching, says
his chapel there was destroyed by ‘he
‘Boxers’ and his wife killed. He reports
also that a Church of England missionary
named Stevenson has been killed, and an-
other named Norman has been hound and
carried off. The ‘‘Boxers’’ now have entire
possession of the countiy from Tien-Tsin
westward to Paoting-Fu, and thence north-
eastward to Pekin. The native troops are
making no effort to suppress the insurrec-
tion. All missionary religious work in
Northern China is at an end unless the
treaty powers compel the observance of the
conventions and demand indemnities in
every case of infringement.
The Belgian minister here, Baron de
Vinck de Deuxorp, has received word that
30 men, women and children, French and
Belgians, who were seeking to escape trom
the district south of Paoting-Fu to Tien-
Tsin, were cut off and surrounded by
‘‘Boxers.”” The ‘‘Boxers” fired into the
fugitives, killing four. The fate of the
remainder was unknown to Baron de
Vinek’s informant, but a telegram received
here yesterday from Tien-Tsin states that
the rescue party of 40 volunteers sent out
from that city rescued all but nine of the
refugees, eight men and one woman. Those
nine are still missing and probably have
been murdered. The American missionaries
at Paoting-Fu have not been heard from
but are believed to be safe.
A Chiistian refugee to Tien-Tsiu brings
news that several station buildings south
of Paoting-Fu have heen burned, the rail-
way torn up and communication w.th the
north cut. Native Christians fr om the
Cho-Chou and Kuan distiicts, less than 50
miles south of Pekin, are streaming steadily
into the capitol. reporting that murder,
pillage and incendiarism are continuing in
those districts.
The foreign ministers here are wiring
their governments that serious dissensions
exist at court. Prince Ching, supported
by the foreign office, the Tsung Li Yamen,
favors suppressing the ‘‘Boxers’’ and con-
ducting foreign affairs with moderation.
Prince Esuan, on the other hand, is in-
tensely anti-foreign, and he is supported
by Hsu-Tung, of the grand secretary, Kang-
Yi, assistant member of the same body,
and others. A crisis is imminent.
The German and Austrian guards are ex-
pected to arrive to-day.
SHANGHAI, June 13.—The ‘‘Boxers”’
have killed four missionaries and have
wounded four more near Paoting-Fu. The
survivors are making their way to Tien-
Tsin, whence a volunteer escort has gone
out to meet them.
Ravages of the Famine, the Plague and
Cholera in India.
Louis Klopsch, of New York, Visits the Screly Smitten
Portions of the Bombay Presidency and Tells of
What He Saw.
BoyBAY, June 13. Louis Klopseh, of
New York, publisher of the Christian Her-
ald, who arrived here May 14th and start-
ed at once on a tour of the famine stricken
district, has returned, after traveling
through the most sorely smitten portion of
the Bombay presidency, including Gujerat
and Barolda. He makes the following
statement of his observations.
“Everywhere I meu the most shocking
and revolting scenes. The famine camps
have been swept by cholera and small pox.
Fugitives, scattered in all directions and
stricken in flight were found dying in the
fields and roadside ditches. The numbers
at one relief station were increasing at the
rate of 10,000 pc: day.
‘At Godhra there were 3,000 deaths from
cholera within four days, aud at Dobad 2,-
500 in the same period. The hospital
death rate at Godhra and Dohad was 90
per cent.
“The condition of the stricken simply
beggars description. Air and water were
inpregnated with an intolerable stench of
corpses. At Ahmedabad the death rate in
the poor house was ten per cent. Every
day I saw new patients placed face to face
with corpses. In every fourth cot there
was a corpse.
“The thermometer reads 115 in the shade,
Millions of flies hovered around the un-
cleansed dysentery patients.
“I visited the small pox and cholera
wards at Viragam. All the patients were
lying on the ground, there being on cots.
Otherwise their condition was fair.
“I can fully verify the reports that vul-
tures, dogs and jackals are devouring the
dead. Dogs have been seen running about
with children’s limbs in their jaws.
“The government is doing its best but
the native officials are hopelessly and heart-
lessly inefficient. Between the famiue, the
pleague and the cholera the condition of
Bombay presidency is now worse than it
has been at any previous period in the nine-
teenth century. Whole families have been
blotted out. The spirit of the people is
broken and there may be something still
worse to come when the monsoon breaks.”’
Filipino Casualties.
General MacArthur Telegraphs the Number to Sec-
retary Root.
WASHINGTON, June 4.—Secretary Root
to-day made answer to the Senate resolu-
tion inquiring as to the number of Fil-
ipinos wounded and killed and the num-
ber of prisoners taken since the insurrec-
tion began. Having no detailed infor-
mation on the subject the Secretary cabled
the inquiry to General MacArthur, com-
manding at Manila and received the fol-
lowing response, which was submitted to
Congress :
MANILA, June 4.—‘‘Adjutant General,
Washington : With reference to your tele-
gram of 22nd ultimo : Filipinos killed,
10,780; wounded, 2,104; captured and sur-
rendered, 10,425; number prisoners in our
possession about 2,000. No systematic
record Filipino casualties at these head-
quarters. Foregoing compiled from large
number reports made immediately after
engagements is as close an approximation
as now possible owing to distribution of
reports. More accurate report would take
weeks to prepare. Number reported kill-
ed probably in excess of accurate figures,
number reported wounded probably much
less, as Filipinos managed to remove most
wounded from field and comparatively few
into our hands. Officers high in rank and
dangerous suspicious men have been re-
tained as prisoners; 1 -v other men dis-
charged on field us soui as disarmed. Pro-
pose to release all but very few prisoners
at early date.
[Signed]
WEALTH OF BEAUTY—IS often hidden
byunsightly Pimples, Eczema, Tetter, Ery-
sipelas, Salt Rheum, etc. Bucklen’s Arnica
Salve will glorify the face by curing all Skin
Eruptions, also Cuts, Bruises, Burns, Boils,
Felons, Ulcers, and worst forms of Piles.
Ouly 25 cts. a box. Cure guaranteed. Sold
by F. P* Green druggist.
“MACARTHUR.”
Ee