3 ¥ —— War BABI SA ge Ce ye Beara fica Bellefonte, Pa., April 25, 1902 THE. TRANSPORT GENERAL FER- GUSON. The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she left the Golden Gate, ‘With a thousand rookies sweatin’ in her hold; An’ the sergeants drove an’ drilled em, an’ the sun it nearly killed ’em— Till they learned to do whatever they were told. ‘The . transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she lay at Honolu’ An’ the rookies went ashore an’ roughed the town ; So the sergeants they corralled ’em,an’ with butt an’ barrel quelled ’em— An’ they limped aboard an’ set to fryin® brown. The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she steamed to- ward the south, An’ the rookies sweated mornin’, noon and night, Till the lookout sighted land an’ they cheered each grain o' sand-- For their blood was boilin’ over for a fight. The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she tied up at the dock, An’ each rookie lugged his gun an’ kit ashore ; An’ a train it come an’ took em where the tropic sun could cook ’em-- An’ the sergeants they could talk to them of war. The transport Gen'ral Ferguson, she had her bottom scraped, For the first part of her labor it was done ; _ An’ the rookies chased the Tagals an’ the Tagals they escaped-- An’ the rookies set an’ sweated in the sun. The transport Gen'ral Ferguson; she loafed around awhile, An’ the rookies they were soldier boys by now; For it don't take long to teach ’em— where the Tagal lead can reach ’em— All about the which, an’ why, an’ when, an’ how. . The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she headed home again, With a thousand heavy coffins in her hold ; They were soldered up an’ stenciled, they were numbered an’ vlue-penciled— An’ the rookies lay inside ’em stiff an’ cold. ' The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she reached the Golden Gate, An’ the derrick dumped her cargo on the shore ; In a pyramid they piled it—an’ her manifest they filed it In a pigeon-hole with half a hundred more. The transport: Gen'ral Ferguson, she travels up an’ down, A-hauling rookies to an’ from the war ; Ouwtward-bound they sweat in khaki, homeward- bound they come in lead— An’ they wonder what they've got to do 1t for. 2 The transport Gen’ral Ferguson, she’s owned by Uncle Sam, An’ maybe Uncle Sam could tell em why ; But he don’t—an’ so she takes em out to fight an’ sweat an’ swear An’ brings’em home for plantin’ when they die. — Life. THE LUCK OF THE HORSESHOE. The Limited had stopped just long enough to change engines. Mr. Warren, the occupant of Compartment 3, had step- ped out to stretch his legs and was interest- ed to see a very pretty girl board his car, followed by a youth burdened with a mili- tary overcoat and her hand luggage. Mr. Warren's legs were long and the stop was short. In three minutes more the train was whistling through the suburbs and speed- ing away into the night. The mountains were just ahead, and so was the dining car. Warren stepped therein one moment, found every table occupied and decided to wait for the pretty girl. Most of his fellow pas- sengers of the palatial Sublima were gone, presumably to dinner, when he strolled back to his seat. Two—three compartments that had been inhabited as he went out were now vacant as he came in, but his own, that was vacant when he left it, was now inhabited. The door was closed, yet not until just as he neared it—oclosed obviously. “at the moment of, and possibly because of, his coming. He caught a glimpse of a slen- der, daintily gloved hand—the hand of a girl. What on earth was it doing there ? To be insured against error he glanced np at the number on the glistening little plate above the door. Three, beyond all shadow of doubt. He ventured to turn the knob, but the door was bolted within. Then he sought the porter, who, for his part, had sought a friend in the Alberta; just ahead ; and the porter was puzzled. “I ain’t put any lady in there sir,” said he. “The young lady that just got aboard at "Toona she helongs in the last compart- ment. But I'll go and see, if you like, sir.” iw ; They went together and Number 3's door was wide open. Number 3 was empty. Everything was 2s be left it, yet he could have sworn to the facts above stated. Then he sauntered back to steal a peep, if possi- ble, at the hand of the young lady who be- longed in the other compartment, and got it, despite the fact that its door seemed closed as he neared it. This time it opened —opened obviously at the moment of, and possibly because of, his coming, and a slen- der, daintily gloved hand, the hand of a girl, beckoned to him, and a silvery voice said : “Ned, come here, quick !"”” And Ned being his name and action his nature he obeyed and entered, and found a pretty form, back toward him now, bending over a handbag. ; ‘‘Where on earth.”’ said the silvery voice, ‘did you put my portemonnaie?’’ And all manner of trifles, except the purse, came flying out upon the seat. ‘Nowhere, if I may hazard the state- ment,’’ said Mr. Warren, with placid court- esy. yet with certain assurance, if not reas- surance, in his tone. Instantly, and any- thing but placidly, the lady whirled abons and a pair of the biggest, bluest eyes in Pennsylvania stared at him astonished. ‘‘I—I beg pardon,” said she. *‘I—I call- ed Ned.” ‘I beg your pardon,’’ said he; ‘‘that’s why I came. I'm called Ned.”’ ‘‘I—mean my brother,’’ she began with returning composure and dignity. ‘And I’m mean enough to rejoice that, though Ned, I’m not your brother,” said he with a symptom of an unrequited smile. ‘‘But you have lost your purse—and Ned. Let me help you find them ; Ned first in relative order of importance. Porter, where’s the gentleman who came with this lady 2"? ‘Got right off again, sir; said he forgot something. I fol¢ him be hadn’t time,” “Why, the gateman said there was plenty,” cried the damsel in deep distress. ‘It was only a~—g—friend he wanted to see —just a minute.” ‘He may have caught the rear car,’’ said the porter sympathetically. ‘I'll run back and find out.” ’ “If he hasn’t we'll get a wire from him somewhere, and meantime please don’t worry. I can’t replace him,’ said Warren, ‘‘but, permit me, I can the purse.’’ ‘‘But my tickets, baggage checks, every- thing, were in it, and it’s gone !’’ cried the lady, tears starting to the beautiful eyes ; all because that stupid boy would run back to speak to a girl.”’ ‘They do make a lot of trouble,”’ said Mr. Warren reflectively ; ‘‘yet we must have them;’ and Mr. Warren's sensitive lips were twitching under his sweeping mustache. He was getting too much fun out of the situation to suit her. ‘‘Boys, you mean ?’ said she. **Girls, I mean,,”” said he, a quizzical smile beginning to dawn upon his face, a smile that instantly vanished at sight of the vexation in hers. ‘‘Forgive me. Iam al- most old enough to be your father,”’ said he. (He had just turned thirty six.) The porter will find your brother; if not, the next train will, and meantime remember that you are neither purseless nor Ned- less.” The Limited was squirming up the Alle- ghenies now, two monster engines panting in the lead. The Sablima was careening a bit to the right as they rounded a sharp curve and the slender hand instinctively reached for something. Warren tendered his arm in support. ‘These curves are sharp and sudden and numerous,’ said he. ‘‘We are coming to the Horseshoe. It will bring you luck— Horseshoes always do, yon know.”’ ‘‘Only—if you pick them up on the road,” said she. ‘Well, didn’t you pick me?—no—I— Oh, here’s the porter. Well, porter ?’ ‘‘Gentl’m’n didn’t get aboard, sir. Wait- eron dining car said he saw somebody make a run just as we pulled out, but he was ’way behind. S’cuse me. This is Miss Brinton, isn’s it 2”? ‘‘Yes,”” answered Blue Eyes hopefully. ‘‘Yeas-sum. Conductor got a wire say- ing compartment was held for you—every- thing else was taken. The Lieutenant has upper I—best we could do for him.”’ ‘*Is the missing Edward an officer as well as otherwise in bonds ?’’ queried Mr. War- ren sympathetically. ‘‘He’s only just beginning,’’ pouted Miss Brinton, ‘‘and going West to his first sta- tion, and was to leave me at Chicago, but he’s—Ileft already—and so am I.”’ Schoolgirl slang is nnaccountably pardon- able when it falls from pretty lips. The gentleman old enough to be her father wish- ed he might hear more. ‘We have sorrows in common,’’ said he whimsically. ‘I, too, have a West Point brother-in-arms. ‘Brother at once and son.’ Mine’s infantry in every sense of the word. And yours?” ‘“Tillery,” promptly replied Miss Brin- ton with proper pride in the superiority of her corps colors and total suppression of the first syllable. ‘‘What is your brother’s name! Perhaps I've met him.”’ ‘Warren, ‘F.F.’ which, I’m told, means. at ‘the Point ‘Four files from Foot’—other- wise he’s known as Toots.’ ‘‘T'ootsie” Warren !”’ cried Miss Brinton delightedly. ‘Why, I know him—well. You don’t mean’ he’s your brother 2?’ “I plead guilty,’ said the man of thirty six. ‘‘And no one mourns it more than I —except Toots. He loves me as he might o stepfather. Tell me, Miss Brinton, is Toots ever going to amount to anything ?’’ *‘Toots? Oh, why, Toots dances well, and draws—nicely.’’ ‘‘Draws,’’ said Mr. Warren reflectively. ‘‘Yes, he draws remarkably. He drew for five hundred on the eve of sailing for Mani- la, one week’s expenses in San Francisco, and I fancy he must dance fairly well if he pays the fiddler at that rate. What I like about Toots is that he absolutely can’t lie. That trait wonld ruin him—in my busi- ness.’’ ‘*Politics ?’’ guessed Miss Brinton, in flattering interest. “Pork !"’ answered Warren sententions- ly. “And that reminds me. May I be pardoned for a suggestion? We’ll soon hear from the Lieutenant. Meantime you ought to be hungry. I. at least, am han- gry as a bear. Now I’ll be Ned, you be Toots, and the waiter shall bless our com- pact before we lose the Horseshoe.’ She hesitated ; looked down ; then up in- to his smiling eyes; and presently they went. Ten minutes later at a litttle tete- a-tete table he was making her forget her worriment in telling about Toots and. Ned’ and Ned’s Altoona sweetheart. Ned had met his sweetheart at the Point, it seems —had been corresponding with her ever since—had coaxed his sister to stop over with him just one day on their westward journey that she might see his charmer and satisfy papa—mother they now had none— and papa was to meet them at Chicago. What would he say to Ned? When could a telegram reach her? Warren equivocat- ed with the ease of one long bred to: the Board of Trade. He knew they made no stop until they rolled into Pittsburg at 9 o’clock, and with shameless tongue he told her the ‘Very next station,’’ rightly reason- ing that almost any answer would do until after dinner. Then their running restaorant leaned to the left, and glancing ‘out he saw unfolding in their curving wake the arc of twinkling lights across some deep, black gorge, and then the white, gleaming electrics of a pas- senger train gliding down the opposite ‘mountainside, almost parallel with their present course. ‘‘It’s the Horseshoe Curve’’ said he. *'Look out and see it, and let us wish Ned and Nanette real horseshoe luck.”? ; \ *‘And Toots, too,’’ she said, beaming up into his genial, animated face. ‘Oh, what should I have doue if I hadn’t taken you for Ned! I mean——?"’ . ‘Never mind,’’ laughed Warren delight- edly. ‘‘You've taken me for Ned—which Iam.. May you never wish me anything— less.” Then, as the conductor cane through, Warren bad brief conference with that of- ficial, assuming charge in the event of no telegraphic instructions from ‘‘The Road”’ inspired by the belated Ned, and finally they went back to the Sublima a little while before the Limited brought up stand- ing at Pittsburg; and never had there been in bis life a shorter evening. Then and there the telegraph messenger came aboard with dispatches, and, as Warren prophesied there was one from Brother Ned : ‘ Go right ahead. Father will meet you. Com- ing next train. Conductor instructed 17 wire. ‘Go right ahead ! The idea! How can I—without money for—anything? That stupid boy’s so desperately in love he’s just glad to be left with Nanette another day— and my purse in ns pocket all the time !”’ ‘‘Sure about that ?’’ queried Warren, who had sisters of his own. 8 ‘Sure? Of course I am. I meant to put it 10 my bag, but Ned never thought to hand it back.” “And you’re sure you never had it? You’ve looked—pardon me—in the other compartments ?’’ “Why—this is the only one I’ve been in I” ‘““Then you weren’t “for a moment-—in Number 3?” : t ‘I?’ Not a bitof it. I ran out in the vestibule to get a peep at Ned and Nanette. Why do you ask ?” ‘‘H’m,”’ said Warren reflectively, think- ing of the dainty hand at the door. ‘I probably-imagined it.”’ Now, either Master Ned meant to get left or this little woman is egregiously mis- taken, mused Warren later. The compart- ment had been made ready for the young lady’s occupancy for the night, and War- ren, after begging permission to take her to breakfast in the morning, had discreetly wished her pleasant dreams and wandered off to his own premises. Altoona officials had verified Lieutenant Ned’s tickets and wired the necessary instructions. That be- ing settled, Wairen had curled himself in a corner of Number 3 and given himself up to thought. There was something odd about this matter that he could not fathom. There were to be sure, other feminines aboard. There was a very stylish woman of uncertain years, slender and presentable, in Number 5, for instance. She had come in to dinner with her husband, a man turn- ed fifty, but they kept to themselves. Their compartment was closed when he and Miss Brinton returned from dinner, and as he thought it all over something possessed him to look into the corridor. Compartment 5 was closed now, yet a tall man in traveling suit was gently trying the door. At sight of Warren be calmly sauntered away. The Ohio was left behind. The Limited was breasting the grades across the Beaver. The porter came round to know if Mr. War- ren would have his berth made down (or up). Warren said ‘‘Presently,’’ opened his bag for a book, and caught sight of some- thing stuffed into the crevice between the back and the seat—a lady’s portemonnaie. It was of sealskip, soft and fine, edged and bound with silver and embellished with the letters L. V. B.—Laura V. Brinton be- yond a doubt! And yet she declared she had set foot in no compartment but her own. The little —prevaricator ! “I'll give it to her after breakfast when nobody’s looking!’ said he. He hated, somehow, to think how confused she would be, even though he need not tell her where he found it. They were in Chicago, with breakfast over,though still half an hour from the sta- tion, before opportunity served. He had been awake since dawn—a vexed spirit. As the Limited ciimbed and pierced and then coasted down the Alleghenies through the early hours of the December night just gone by, and he had sat there in the warm, well lighted, cozy dining ear, with fresh flowers overhanging the dainty crystal and china and snow white napery—with that fresh, fair, smiling face beaming so trustfully up into his—a dream so long forbidden that, through force of habit, it had well-nigh ceased to. live, now stole over his spirits and would not sleep again. Stern slave of the lamp that he had been, he had shut ont every thought of love and home life of his own, but that face, that merry laugh, that sweet, low, musical voice had spurred his dormant nature to instant and vehement life. He so loved what was gentle, refined, beautiful in woman. Me socraved a heart- mate—a home—of his own. He so rejoic- ed in everything she did and looked and said—everything except just one—just one. He who had so whimsically spoken of Toots’ ‘blunt propensity for truth as being disas- trous to trade was yet a man to whom a lie wae a thing abhorrent. Aud she had will- fully, unnecessarily declared she had never entered his compartment. Yet, had he not seen ?. Did he not know? Was not here, in her portemonnaie, the proof ? He could not bear to give it to her until the last moment. He could not bear to see in that lovely, innocent face the blush of shame, or worse, the stony insolence of re- newed denial that must follow his restora- tion of the portemonnaie. She must know where he had found it ! At Archer Avenue where they had stopped a minute, a gray- haired, distingnished looking. stranger boarded the train, and to his arms she flew delightedly ; then with beaming eyes she presented Mr. Warren. : *‘I am under a thousand obligations,’’ he- gan Mr. Brinton. ‘‘I have had an anxious night since the coming of Ned’s message,’’ he began. ‘Oh, papa, Mr. Warren can fully sympa- thize with you. He’s Toots Warren’s brother. You remember Toots last sum- mer at the Point—Ned’s classmate? And you must settle with Mr. Warren, please— Ned ran off with my purse, and you must tip the porter and must ask Mr. Warren to dinner. Rs "And then Warren saw the way to restor- ing that purse without giving it to her. Just before they parted at the Canal Street Station and while Miss Brinton was being placed in the waiting carriage with her ar- ray of hand luggage—hers and Ned’s—War- ren slipped the purse into the parental hand. ‘‘Pray, give it,”’ said he, ‘after you get home. Miss Brinton thinks your son has it.”” And then Brinton pere was hurried in and. the carriage off to make room for others. There was just time for a word. “‘Phe Horseshoe brought me the best of lack,’’ cried the sweet, clear voice, as a beaming, winsome, beautiful face peered back at him, nodding, smiling, tormenting, when the carriage whirled away. And then Warren turned to his cab, too full of that ‘face.to note the next party, boarding anoth- ‘er carriage—a very stylishly dressed—ins deed overdressed—woman whose face was closely veiled, a rubicund man of fifty odd, and a tall citizen in heavy ulster close fol- Jowing. It was that other face that War- ren took away to his busy office, and that peered between him and the pages of his letters and ledgers all that day and the next. ‘‘I shall see it again,’’ said he, “at dinner.” But the week went out without the invi- tation. The Brintons, who remained three days at the Annex, left without a sign. ‘She thought better of that dinner and worse of me,’”’ said Warren to himself, ‘‘when ‘she discovered I had found her purse and her fib at the same time.”” And so, wounded, he bad gone back to his work. When next Mr. Edmund Warren saw the Horseshoe he was again eastward bound, and he looked with gloomy eyes. For once the grandeur of the scene had lost it charm. It was some months later, and, though never once had he seen or heard from Miss Brinton, never yet had her face been for- gotten. This radiant, sunshiny morning, as he Jooked out over theglorious vista of mountain and valley, he was thinking sore- ly of that evening ride on the Limited—of all the gladness that seemed compressed in- ‘to four blithe hours, only to be blotted ont. Then the porter sauntered over for a word. ¢* "Member that last time you went West with ws, Mr. Warren—night the young lady’s brudder got lef’ at "Toona? My, but that old gentl'm’n was hot ’hout her pocketbook, sir.’’ ! ‘‘How s0?”’ asked Warren in sudden in- terest. ‘All the money was gone when she got it back—over a hundred dollars. Oh, I tole ‘em you were all right—’¢’want you, though you didn’t tell me yon’d found is. It might have gone hard, sir, with some of us- tho’, for the company just ransacked everybody t’ill they found out them crooks.” ‘‘What crooks ?’’ ‘Lady and gentl’m’n, sir—bad Number 5. They was wanted in Chicago and detective come along with ’em all the way from New York, and they never ’spected nothing till they got off the train. They had money to burn.” ‘‘And they robbed Miss Brinton ?”’ ‘Yes, sir,” chuckled the African. ‘‘But Mr.—Mr. Brinton first off said ’twas you. You must have had the parse all night. Little by little, between the conductor and the porter, he dragged forth the whole story. Brinton, senior, had forgotten the purse until Lieutenant Ned arrived on Number 21 at three in the afternoon. With- in an hour thereafter the old gentleman ap- peared at the station, full of wrath, to de- clare that his daughter had been robbed on the Sublima. There was time for only brief investigation before the Limited start- ed ont on the evening run back to New York. Both conductor and porter had stoutly declared their confidence in Mr. Warren's integrity, but Brinton was uncon- vinced. At the end of the week, when they again reached Chicago, the rest of the story came out. Three days after the loss the company were ‘‘after’’ the couple shadow- ed by the tall detective; also the shadower, who had come aboard only just as the Lim- ited left Jersey City on the morning of her start. Then the police admitted that two noted criminals had been captured ata North Side residence an hour after their coming to Chicago, and then Papa Brin- ton’s investigation came to an end. That was December. Now it was nearly April. And one day there came a missive from Brother Toots, at Manila. Dear Old Ned :—1 gave all the news to mother, so see her letter. We go out on ‘nother hike to-night, and I’ve only time for a word. Ned Brinton says his father ‘| wants to see you next time he gets to Chi- cago—wants te explain something—can’ make out what. Ned won’s tell, but it’s something about some money you lent that awfully pretty sister of his when Ned got left. He's rabid to go home and marry that Altoona girl, and he can’t ask for leave until this business is wound up. Ned says his sister says you were ‘‘just lovely’ to her, and papa hadn’t properly thanked you, and it was partly her fault, and— well, I can’t make it all ous, but Ned says she’s written to him no less than three let- ters about it, and that’s more thought than she bestows on any of us. Just send a line to the old chap, will you, and let him know where he can find you? When is that March interest coming ? : Yours, Toots. Warren’s cheeks burned. ‘‘She thought me a thief !"’ he growled to himself; ‘‘and I thought her a fibber I’ But the next day he was away from Chicago again, bounded northward, and on a soft April evening set foot at Melton Station. He went, too, un- announced. He had not sent a line to the ‘‘old chap,’’ as Toots suggested. It was the old chap's husiness to send a line to him if he had ever said he believed Warren had purloined his daughter’s money. When Miss Brinton bad stepped out to the vestibule, leaving her satchel ungnard- ed and unlocked, it was an easy matter for the enterprising woman ocoupant of Num- ber 5 to seize the moment when almost everybody was ous of the car, and then the purse; to dart into the vacant Number 3, little expecting Warren to return at once from the dining car whither her male com- panion declared him to have gone. His sudden coming had well nigh caught her, but she barred him out, rightly guessing hg would go for the porter. Then she stuffed the stolen portemonnaie deep down in the crevice, and, richer by one hundred dollars or more, slipped back to her own seat, and was all demure innocence a moment later. But in that moment’s work she had thrown suspicion on two honest souls. No. Warren sent no warning of his coming. In fact, he was not seeking Brinton pere. He longed to see that other face again, and believed he knew a way. Inquiry of a business associate had develop- ed the fact that it was Miss Brinton’s al- most daily habit to drive in to the post- office for the evening mail, and he swang away ab sturdy pace over the winding high- road in the direction of the Brinton home- stead. It lay but a mile from the pretty town and on the horders of the great lake. His satchel he left at the station, his stick he swung in his hand. Look out for a phaeton with bay ponies! he told his eyes: ‘but before he had put half a mile between himself and the station something glinted in the slanting sunbeams, and there at the edge of the roadway lay a shapely little horse’s shoe. He stooped, picked it up, put it in his sack-coat pocket and faced about. The pony team had already gone to town. ‘When, perhaps a dozen minutes later, he saw coming toward him over a rise in the road a stylish pair of miniature bays, his heart gave a leap and so did he—to the shelter of some roadside shrubbery. Peer- ing from this coign of vantage he saw that the off-side pony was favoring his right hind foot, and that settled the matter. With the shoe uplifted in one hand, his derby in the other, Mr. Warren stepped out into the highway ; the fair charioteer threw her weight back on the reins; a small “‘tiger’’ sprang to the ponies’ heads and took the bits under advisement. The lady, despite herself, blushed vividly with surprise and pleasure, but, ‘Why, Mr. Warren !’’ was all she said. : “Permit me to restore missing proper- ly,”” said he. ‘Not a portemonnaie this time, but a porte-bonheur. The blash deepened. ‘‘Who told you?” said she. 3 3 *‘The pony,’’ said he ; ‘‘this one ;’’ and replacing his derby, he gave the little fel- low a reassuring pat. ' “I mean—about the portemonnaie.’’ ‘‘What about it ?*’ ’ ‘‘You’ve heard—about its being—emp- tied before you had a chance——?’ “I did have a chance. I had it all night,’”’ and Mr. Warren’s lips were twitch- ing provokingly, as his eyes feasted on her sweet blushing face. : *‘I mean,”’ said Miss Brinton, flicking the dust with her whip, ‘‘to return it, of course. Papa made—so much trouble. I was afraid you’d heard.” “I did hear—eventually. Ned and Toots—"? “Ob, those wretched boys? What will they say next ?’’ ‘They said I should sue papa for dam- ages.’’ “Mr. Warren! You wouldn’t !’’ ‘Miss Brinton. I will. I’ve decided once and for all. I will bring suit—at once.’’ : ‘Oh, Mr. Warren ! It was all my fault, my carelessness—my stupidity. I'm aw- fully sorry. Can’t I settle it in some way! I’ve wanted to say so ever so long.”’ ‘‘And I've wanted to have you. In fact, I still want to have you. Indeed, you're the only one who—can settle it!”’ ; And then she looked up into his eyes, half startled, half joyous, and then—all see- ing—the soft eyes fell again, and though his hands were trembling, he laid the little horseshoe in her lap and stepped quickly to her side.. : ‘“You bave not decided .about the jour- ney,’’ he was saying, as he bent over that bonny, beautiful head one summer evening a few months later. *‘There’s only one point about it that I wish to decide,” she answered smilingly. “It isn’t where we go, it’s the way we come—homeward. Almost any day we can come past the old mile-post here at home ; but I want to come again—where I found my luck—by the Horseshoe Curve.”’ Oo Chas. King in the Saturday’ Evening 0st. S———————— He Saw the Water Cure. Former Sergeant Tells Investigation Committee of Tortures in Philippines. Faucet Put in His Mouth. Natives Cruelly Treated. The Senate committee on the Philippines began an investigation of the charges to the effect that the ‘‘water cure,’’ ro-called, is practiced on the insurgents. Charles S. Riley, of Northampton, Mass., formerly a sergeant in Company M, Twensy-sixth vol- unteer infantry, was the first witness call- ed with that end in view. In reply to questions by Senator Rawlins he said he had witnossed the ‘‘water cure,’ at Igbaras in the province of Iloilo on Nov. 7th, 1900. It was administered to the presidente or chief Filipino official of the town. He said that upon the arrival of his command at Igbaras the presidente was asked whether runners had been sent out notifying the insurgents of their presence and that upon his refusal to give the in- formation he was taken to the convent where the witness was stationed and the water cure was administered to him. This Sei] was, he said, a mau about 40 years old. When he (the witness) first saw him he was standing in the corridor of the con- vent, stripped to the waist and his hands tied behind him, with Captain Glenn and Liens. Conger, of the regular army,and Dr. Lyons, a contract surgeon, standing near, while many scldiers stood about. The man, he said, was then thrown under a water tank, which held about 100 gallons of water, and his mouth placed directly under the faucet and held open so as to compel him to swallow the water which was allowed to escape from the tank. Over him stood an interpreter repeating one word, which the witness said he did not understand, but which he believed to be the native equivalent of ‘‘confess.’’ When at last the presidente agreed to tell what he knew he was released and al- lowed to start away. He was not, how- ever, permitted to escape, and upon refus- ing to give further information he was again taken as he was about to mount his horse and the cure administered for the sec- ond time. This time the man was not stripped, nor was he taken into the build- ing. Dr. Lyons said the water could be brought to the spot and given there, and when it was brought in a five gallon can, one end of a syringe was placed in it and the other in the man’s mouth. As he still refused a second syringe was brought and one end of it placed in the prostrate man’s nose. He still refused and a handful of salt was thrown into the water. This had the desired effect and the presidente agreed to answer questions. : ; Riley also said he had known of many cruelties and indignities practiced upon American soldiers by natives. Another witness, William L. Smith, of Athol, Mass., who was a private in Com- pany M, Twenty-sixth volunteer infantry, corroborated Riley’s testimony. He also said that he had assisted in the burning of the town of Igbaras and that the natives generally escaped from their houses only with the clothes they wore. Mr. Smith expressed the opinion that Igharas had a population of 10,000. So far as he knew no lives were lost. The witness said that the country places in the vicinity also were burned. All these acts were done under the command of Captain Glenn, who was, he said. judge advocate of the department of the Visayas. Would Ride on An Airship. President Roosevelt Tells Santos-Dumont That He is Anxious to Make an Aerial Trip. ‘If ever you bring your airship to the United States, I would like to be the first to make a trip in it,’’said President Roose- vel, recently, to M. Santos-Dumiont, to whom he gave a special reception in the red room of the White House. © M. Bantos-Dumont was accompanied by the Brazilian minister, Senor Asiz Brasil, who had arranged for the audience with the President, and who presented the in- ventor and his friend; Senor Ammanuel Aime, who is traveling with him. M. Santos Dumont spoke most enthusi- astically of the President. He said : ‘I was delighted with President Roose- velt and his cordiality. “Following my visit: to the White House, I went with Professor Langley for an inspection of his flying machine. It is beautifully made, and I hope it will be successful. Professor Langley told me that he will construct a large flying machine exactly upon the lines of the small working model which I saw to-day. ““Is it true that I will give an exhibition of my airship at Brighton Beach this 'sea- son? * No, emphatically no!- That is an absurd rumor,.as I have never at any time intimated that I would do such a thing. ‘Shall I give an exhibition of my air- ship at any place in this country ? ‘*Not unless a prize is offered. - Should a prize be offered for this purpose, I will gladly give the exhibition—not otherwise. ~ “I think the library of Congress the most beautiful building of the kind in the world.”’ ‘ Lightning Rods. The present state of science is such that no man can tell whether a lightning rod does more good than harm or more harm than good. It is likely that if the rod is big enough and sufficiently well grounded, and the lightning flash is aimed directly at one’s house, that some part of it or possibly all of it may go to the ground over the lightning rod. That is all that can be said. If a house has a tin roof it is reasonably safe anyhow. If it has a steel frame con- struction or is full of water pipes it is still safer. If it is a frame house with a shingle roof you can secure entire safety for it by building a copper house outside of it. This, we believe is, the only efficient lightning protection. The whole matter of lightning rods was conceived in ignorance and bas been ex- ploited in folly. It is not now believed that the ordinary lightning rod does any good, or, on the contrary, that it does any particular harm. Insulators will not help it nor will they harm it. If we were living in your house we would rather not have the lightning rod. ~—— Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. on fire. .. Spring in Arizona. A Land of Almost Perpetual Sunshine. The Life and Luxuriance of Trees are Maintained by Irrigation. If you will recall the rarest and faires$ June day you can remember it will help you to imagine what this Sabbath morning is in Tucson, Arizona. Sky a cloudless arch of blue, sun of summer warmth, air so clear that the Catalina mountains, sixteen miles away, appear to be within half an hour’s walk. Some people are on their way to church, others sunning themselves upon verandas, while here and there one of horticultural inclinations is pruning his shrubs and trees. You must understand, however, that the only trees of consequence are those that have been set out and irri- gated, though the palm grows to be thirty feet or more high and a yard in diameter, without much care. Tucson stands amid a barren plain, where nothing but the dwarf mesquis bushes in little clumps a few feet apart, with an occasional giant cactus ten to twenty-five feet high and two feet in diameter, grow on a grassless desert. But to go hack to our trees. Small trenches a few inches deep lead from the house water pipe to each tree and shrub, and circle around it, couveying water to the thirsty roots. Without irrigation there would be little that is green in this ‘‘land of sun- shine,” with its record of 360 days ina year in which there was sunshine, but,giv- en plenty of water,on the apparently sterile soil and the ‘‘desert blossoms like the rose,’’ and almost any tropical vegetation flour- ishes. Delicious figs in their season ripen on the trees in this hotel yard, and dates and oranges do nicely. The market gar- deners here are nearly all Chinese, as are the grocers in the Mexican quarter. The house servants are nearly all men—Chinese, Japs or negroes—and are paid $35 and $50 a month. The few waiter girlsearn $9 a week. Tucson houses are queer to an Eastern mind, having, most of them, no cellar, sec- ond story or attic; of course, there are no stairs. A few two-story houses are being built, bust the upper stories are almost un- tenable in the summer heat. Very shallow trenches suffice for the foundation stones,as no frost ever penetrates the ground. The prevailing type of house now being built ig of brick or adobe (wood is too warm in summer) and has five small rooms and bath. In some, the bath and closet are separate, and the closet adjoins the front hall, both being about 3% by 4}, and the ouly entrance to the closet is by a door from the front piazza, quite near the main entrance. Many people sleep on the piazzas all winter, using cot beds and plenty of blankets, as the nights are cool, though there is neither dew nor frost. In summer, everybody sleeps out of doors. If there is no piazza, then in the yard;if no yard,then, on the sidewalk. Our ‘hobo’ in the East carries little or no haggage, and sleeps, even in summer, in barn or shed, but here there are always a few tramps and many Mexi- cans, who follow the Scriptural injunction to ‘‘take up thy bed and walk.”” Their blankets are rolled in a package about a yard long and a foot through, tied with a bit of rope, and thus equipped they ‘‘hit the trail,”* caring not where night over- takes them. A Mexican seldom or never pays house rent. Those who live in adobe houses in ‘‘Oldtown’’ squatted there years ago, and, having never availed themselves of the homestead rights or *‘located’’ them- selves at the government land office, their land eventually became the city domain, and they are taken from $1 to $10 per year as ground rent. If they cannot pay, then there is always the open country a little out of the city limits, where a tent or shack, or maybe a blanket, makes a home or a shelter. Lhis is a strange city and the sights still interest me. Here comes a little ‘‘bharro,’” two of them, in faci, loaded with firewood, which is piled on their backs in circular shape a yard high and as broad, tied with many a lashing around and under the little creatures’ bellies, projecting far out on eith- er side, as the ‘‘hurro’” walks dejectedly along, head down and swaying the load at every step, one expects at every moment to see the weight of high-piled wood roll the little beast over, feet upward. The ‘‘bur- ros’’ walk in funeral procession a few paces apart, followed by a lazy-looking Mexican, who ever and anon shouts some jargon at his apparently unmindful bur den-bearers. The Indian women who come into tawn, bringing blankets, baskets and pottery to sell, are an interesting study. Peculiar triangular-shaped baskets, carried partly on the head and partly on shoulders, con- tain there wares, aud, squatting Turk fash- ion at some convenient corner, they ar- range their stock in trade to tempt a pur- chase. The water jug made and sold by these people has the power to keep water cool in the hottest weather, because of the evaporation through the pottery, which is great enough to give the appearance of actual leakage, such is the porous nature of the material from which it is made. This is a great country for saddle horses. Everybody rides, and a good saddle pony, sound and not overdangerous to ride, can be purchased for $15 to $25. The Mexican saddle, deep and comfortable, with broad, easy stirrups cost more than the horse, a good saddle selling from $45 up. ‘‘Jinney’’ mules are much more common in teamsters’ wagons than horses,and a good, heavy draft horse is seldom seen. This is a great town for dogs, the most remarkable variety be- ing the Mexican hairless, witha hide abso- lutely bald,and in color resembling that of a young mouse. Very large dogs and very little dogs are most in evidence. On Wed- nesday night was usherd in. the Chinese New Year’s celebrations, which hold for one week. The Chinese here has a way of set- ting off firecrackers that would provoke the envy of the Eastern smallboy in a high de- gree. ' A string of ‘‘packs’’ about six feet long, closely attached to each other, is hung from a pole, and the lower section set f Immediately a fusillade is started which lasts for many minutes,ending with a grand finale of explosions as the special- ly prepared upper section is reached. Sky- rockets are set off nightly, and lots of washee-washee money goes up in smoke. Such are a few of the novel things in the commercial metropolis of Arizona, Tucson, the city of the ‘‘Black Water.’—Spring- Jield Republican. ' THE GREAT DisMAL SwamMp—Of Vir- ginia is a breeding ground of Malaria germs. So is low, wet or marshy ground everywhere. These germs cause weakness, chills and fever, aches in the bones and muscles, and may induce dangerous mala- dies. But Electric Bitters never fail to destroy them and cure malarial troubles. They will surely prevent typhoid. ‘‘We tried many remedies for Malaria and Stom- ach and Liver troubles,”” writes John Charleston, of Byesville, O., ‘but never found anything as good as Electric Bitters.’ Try them. Only 50c. Green’s Pharmacy guarantee satisfaction. ——The present year is young, but its record so far gives token that it will be remembered at least by the fire insurance companies. a Bhs hrailin aii
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers