6 IN THE PAPERS. There »eems to be no way In which an hon est, modest man Can get his name In clear, cold type, for everyone to scan. We've got to cut up some mean trick, or papers quite refuse To notice what we're doing, for they say It isn't "news." A. man may kiss tila wife, and yet the pa pers never tell; But let him kiss his neighbor's wife, and. horror! how they yell. We all may do the proper thing for years and years, and yet Receive not half the notice that a crooked chap will get. Just let an honest oltizen be sober as he may, There are no headlines to declare "Jones Isn't drunk to-day!" But let him dare imbibe until he makes himself "a brute," And all the papers will remark that "Jones Is on a toot!" A thousand bank cashiers remain still faithful to their trust, l*hey never skip to Canada, and cause their bank to "bust." let papers never tell us of these noble men and true, But give whole columns to the ones that skip the tra-la-100. Ten thousand servant girls refrain from using kerosene start the kitchen Are, even though the wood Is green; But Just because one tries It, and Is scat tered galley-west. Her name gets In the papers far ahead of all the rest. 80, when I buy a paper, I'm aware I'll And a dearth Of news about the doings of the better folks of earth; For"news," as It Is termed to-day, I've noticed, as a rule, Is very likely to concern a rascal or a fool. —Nixon Waterman, In L. A. W. Bulletin. FBEE-IANCEI By CHAL'NCV C. HOTCHKISS [Copyright, 1897, by D. Appleton & Co. All rights reserved.] CHAPTER XXI. DE PROFUNDIS. It was now so dark that the sky thowed but faintly through the hole in the boat's bottom. As time advanced and there be came great danger that the wind might rise, thereby rendering my attempt abortive, I sank myself into the water and came to the surface clear of my late shelter. The tide or some unknown force had drawn the wreck from the schooner's side, and I found I had been slowly drifting south, being now tome ten or a dozen rods off the vessel's starboard bow. By the most intense lis tening I could hear a stibdued sound of voices, but from what part of the deck it proceeded I was too far away to determine. All around me was black water, with noth ing in sight saving the shadowy hull of the Phantom and a guiding light, evidently swinging over the stern of the Sprite, though that craft was swallowed by the distance iand general gloom. Not a star was in sight, not a breath broke the glassiness of the si lent swell as it rolled northward. The ocean never seemed so vast nor its depths so re pulsive as now, when in the darkness it ■clung to me with its chilly fingers. The fathoms below gaped like an open pit, and it was with a convulsive horror that 1 let go my hold on the dingy and struck out for the schooner, resolute, come what might, to rid myself of the frightful loneliness which all at once was magnified before me. Indeed, I felt that my time had come. For good or evil there would be a sharp turn of affairs, but if evil, I would die by shot or sword; not to the black element about me would I give myself. Like a frightened child fleeing from the dark, I at first swam boldly, but, as my vigor sent before me a small surf that roared through the silenae, I abated my speed, and with slow and noiseless stroke headed myself toward the schooner's bow, that I might approach her as I djd when drifting through the fog. The gold In my pockets dragged on me, but not once did I think of ridding myself of the burden, for the swim was short, and I had won the money hardly. However, it seemed an age ere I saw the Phantom's bowsprit outlined agaipst the sky over my head, and by the time I felt the firmness of her bobstay in my hand something like confidence came back to me, and my momentary horror of the deep was past. The touch of the rigging put strength in mo, and I slowly drew myself out of the water, that the torrent from my clothing might not attract atfention from the deck. I could now hear the sound of voices plainly, and knew it came from for ward, but it was too muffled for me to make head or tail of the conversation. It would guide my actions in a measure, for, so long as it continued, my presence would be un suspected. Carefully I dragged myself up until I came within reaching distance of the bowsprit, and then 1 brought my head to the level of the deck. The jib and staysail hung mo tionless from their riggings, but from be neath the latter I marked the figure of a man leaning against the larboard fore shrouds and smoking a pipe as he looked over the water. He was partly turned to ward me, and as long as he beld this po sition I could not advance. As far aft as I could see the deck was otherwise deserted, though a light, hitherto concealed by the rail, gleamed from the cabin window. A slight yellow haze spread from the open hatch of the forecastle, and from there came the voices I heard. Putting myself astride the bowsprit, I sat concealed from the larboard side by the schooner's head cloths, though by bending nly body I could peer beneath the sails anil we the figure that blocked my further prog ress. The talking from the open hatch drowned the drip of the small streams still flotfinij from my clothing, though it seemed to accentuate the mournful creak that from the top hamper occasionally answered th<j heavier rolls of the sea. I was now mo mentarily at my wits' end, for neither for ward nor backward could J go. Had I -vished to return to the wreck, I could have found that speck in the darkness, and my plans had not extended beyond getting onto the vessel, and this had been accomplished. Hut 1 had not remained passively seated astride the bowsprit many minutes before a scheme opened before me. It was born of ne cessity, and unless he should soon move, de manded the life of the fellow standing by the shrouds. I had barely come to this conclu sion when, as though he read my thoughts and felt thesinister threat they contained, he knocked the ashes from his pipe and turned kimsftlf toward his companions below. As he came into the radius of light that shot from the hatch, I saw he was an ordi nary seaman—a regulation manof-war's man—from his light pumps to his oiled and eclskin-cased pigtail curling clear of the collar of his shirt. With a light remark to his fellows, he seated himself on the top step of the ladder leading down, and, rest ing his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clinched hands, started to palaver with those below, probably enjoying to the fullest extent the contrast in the discipline of the two vessels. His action was a plating piece erf marine carelessness, but it both saved his life and opened to me a way to act. Now, with the dazzle of light full in his face, he might lift his head yet fail to see me, and, as the time was ripe, 1 felt for the foot ropes and silently slid to the heel of the bowsprit. Once there, I crept to the cathead, and from there with a spring I reached the fore castle opening behind the unsuspecting sailor. With a sudden push I sent him htflfdlong onto his fellows, and then I quick ly closed the doors, slid the hatch cover, fas tened it, and for the third time I had made the Phantom's forward quarters a prison. There was now little tune to spare, for I knew the rumpus that would come would attract the cabin, and it behooved me to get command of that ere Lounsbury could act on the offensive. Snatching a belaying pin from its ring on the mast, Iran to the galley, but found it dark and deserted. PYom there I hurried aft, and, without the precaution of peeping through a window, presented my self at the open door of the companion way. I knew not what I would find, but was far from expecting the sight that met my eyes. The lantern swinging from its beam had been trimmed and washed, and cast a strong light over the interior. Though no one was at the table, it showed that a makeshift meal had been sent from the Sprite, for on the Phantom there were now no means of cooking, as pots, kettles and table gear had gone the way of my instruments. In a bunk, the curtains of which were flung wide, and at the side of which stood a bucket of water, lay Ames, his face like chalk and his eyes closed, but whether in death or sleep I could not tell. On a transom locker at the other side of the cabin sprawled the doctor, somewhat more than tipsy, his head rolling to and fro with the plunge of the- vessel, while in his hand was a bloody rag or bandage, lie was vainly trying to reach a bottle and glass that stood near liini on the floor, the heave of the schooner throwing him off his balance at each attempt to raise himself. At the extreme end of the com partment was Lounsbury on his knees work ing at the bulkhead with a carpenter's chisel and calking mallet. Ignoring the presence of the drunken surgeon, I*: had torn away half the casing to the partition, and had finally struck upon my hidden gold, which now lay as plain to my eye as to his. For this, and probably for this alone, he had once attempted to betray me, threatened my life, and well-nigh lost his own. lie had guarded the secret as well as I, and now, after months of waiting, hard fare, and harder blows, he doubtless felt a full meas ure of sordid pleasure as my little hoard lay uncovered before him. And not so little, cither. Five hundred pounds would make him passing rich among his fellows. Though his face was from me, its exulta tion seemed to strike through him and shine from his back. I could almost see the dry; greedy grin and close set of his ragged teeth as he laid his hand on the bag to judge its worth by lifting. With the inborn sus picion of the everfeart'ul thief or miser, he threw a cautious look over his shoulder, and as he did so his eyes met mine. I once saw a laughing man shot clean through the heart, and the sudden change of his expression as death seized him, was ap palling; but it was nothing to the swift al teration that came over the face of Louns bury as that villain recognized me. Crouched low at the top of the companion way, with one foot on the steps and the other on deck, I remained immovable as I witnessed the effect of my sudden appearance. Without shifting his position, the wretch held his head craned over his left shoulder, his jaw dropped, and his small, piglike eyes opened to their farthest extent, glaring at me as though their owner was in a trance. His face was too blackened and weather-beaten to allow of a change of color, but pallor and fright were plain in his vefy attitude. Not a sound or movement was made by either of us as we thus faced each other, and the surgeon, marking nothing amiss, still made desperate though ludicrous bobs toward the liquor on the floor. Perhaps for a minute Lounsbury he'd his position, and then with a slow, suakelike motion, his eyes still fixed on mine, he twisted till his back was to the bulkhead, where, extending his arms against the wood work, he flattened himself as though try ing to shrink through the partition, horror and dread written over his swollen and re pulsive features. It had never been in my mind to play a part, but it was plain that to this ignorant and superstitious man I was nothing less than a veritable spirit of the dead. Indeed, the glistening of my dripping clothes, the plastered hair on my head, unshaven, and with the paleness of long immersion on my face, these, with the probable glitter of ex citement in my eyes, all tendei*to make me uncanny in appearance, especially as my figure was backed by the absolute blackness of the night. Lounsbury had seen me in ap parent desperation plunge overboard, and doubtless thought I had been drifting fath oms deep below the Phantom's keel, yet in the hour of his success I had come to tor ment him. Like Banquo's ghost—and ghost I was to him—l would not down. The agony working in his mind would soon find an outlet in some fashion, but it stirred him in a Way I hardly expected. Still piercing me with his glance, his broad chest heaved spasmodically and his right hand gradually moved to the hilt of the ciftlass hanging on his left hip. Slowly, like a man asleep, he drew the blade, and with slaver now running from the corners of his mouth, he left the bulkhead and crept toward me. Fascination ruled him. The pent-up energy of the man showed in his crouching, catlike step as he glided along the edge of the table and into the space between it and the foot of the ledder. Madness, murder, and every evil flamed from his eyes, and I knew that now he or I must die, though I would have mighty small qualms in killing him, and had still smaller doubts as to which was to be killed. Though I was armed with naught but a be laying pin, while he possessed a sword, the were more in my favor than in his. In the narrow passage of the companion, to which he must come to attack me, his weapon would be of no avail save in the thrust, while the short and fairly heavy club I gripped would be untrammeled by want of space, and my position above him gave me an advantage I had seen from the beginning. As the fellow reached thfc foot of the steps, his manner suddenly changed. Pull ing himself upright, lie let out a yell that was blood-curdling, and clapping bis left hand over his eyes as though to shut out the sight of me, he thrust his'sword at arm's length before him and rushed blindly up the ladder as though to impale the uncanny spirit he had seen at its top. AM the stevi ouu near me I beat it d«wn CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1900. with a blow of the belaying pin, and, reach ing forward, struck him fairly on the head, lie threw up both hands, balanced for an instant, and then pitched backward, strik ing the floor head first, the weight of his body doubling and breaking his neck as though it had been an icicle. Before I followed him by a leap that car ried me the length of the companion, 1 knew my enemy had come to anchor forever. It was not to him I turned my notice as I struck the floor, but to the now half-sobered surgeon who was fumbling beneath his pil low, from under which he drew a pistol just as I reached him. Grasping him by the throat, I threw him onto his back on the locker, and, with my knee on his thin chest, twisted the yet uncocked firearm from his hand and sent it spinning across the cabin. It was done. Once again 1 was master of the Phantom. Hurriedly searching the prostrate man and his immediate surroundings for more weapons, and finding none, without further attempt to conceal my voice or purpose, I commanded him to lie where he was on pain of instant death, and, as I saw the cowardly noncoinbatant shrink away from me and knew I had nothing to fear from him, I left his side and crossed the cabin to where lay my wounded friend. To my astonishment his eyes were open and he was regarding me curiously enough, though the greeting he gave me was but a movement of the lips, for from them there came no sound. I grasped his hand. There was but the faintest trace of fever in it, and a slight answering pres sure was returned. Again his lips moved, and, by bending to them, I made out the word "Ghost?" "Nay, my lad," I answered heartily. "We are once more to the good. I had small hopes of ever again seeing you alive, but God has willed differently. Are you badly hurt?" The only answer was a tremor of the lids, and I might have known that weakness would hold him dumb. "Where was the boy hit?" I demanded, turning to the lank red ooat who had not shifted his position but lay looking at me with intense interest. The royalist raised himself on his elbow, and, instead of answering, asked: "Who are ye, man, and where from?" "Know ye not Donald Thornd.vke re turned from hell for a substitute?" I thun dered, striding up to him. "Answer my question, ye sot! Where was the boy hit?" "In the right lung; the ball passed clear through him," he answered as he shrank back, and then, as his curiosity struggled for mastery, he continued: "Th«/ told me that overboard ye had gone." "They told ye the truth," I returned, stooping for the pistol I had wrenched from "The ocean never seemed so vast nor its depths so repulsive." him, and cocking it."Put me aside and tell me, will the lad live?" "Ay, like as not if he has the pluck," he snapped back, eyeing and dodging the muz zle of the firearm. "Faith, I'll do my best if ye will honor my calling and play that damn thing to some other point. Have ye murdered all but myself?" "Nay, ye skewer," I answered, almost amused by his fear and amazed at Ihe way it had overcome the fumes of the liquor in him. "I but gave the crew a rest from duty; it is their watch below, and if ye dare call me murderer for taking and defending my own, I'll act the part in truth." "By me sowl, ye are the devil himself!" he ejaculated, but I cut him short. " Whate'er I am, ye are my prisoner. Now take your choice betjwixt irons and parole; the hold or this cabin. Speak fast! I have buisness on hand." "A prisoner only, is it?" he exclaimed quickly, sitting bolt upright and raising his hand aloft. "Then, on the honor of an Irish gentleman, I take oath not to sneak from ye or bear arms," he answered, as though relieved by the terms I offered. "And bide in the cabin until allowed the deck?" I added. "That same," he answered. "And care for the wounded lad?" "Oh, ay! oh, ay! an' now—" "Then 'tis ten to one that before long ye will be biy_k among your fellows by ex change," 1 interrupted, being in a hurry. "Bring the boy to liia feet, and 'twill be money in your pocket; but no more liquor." So saying, I picked up the bottle and took a long draught of what proved to be good whisky. 'Twas a well-earned and sorely needed dram, but a mighty uncivil way of taking it, inasmuch as 1 had just cut him off his own grog. The act may have been the means of fanning the spark of malice held in his nature —a spark that glowed, smoldered, and burst into flame when I least expected. The cunning in his brain made up for the lack of sinews in his body, for when I turned from locking up the bottle and sliding the key into my pocket, I noticed a malevolence in his face; but he shifted his eye from me, and, getting to his feet with an effort, walked unsteadily across the cabin and bent over Ames. CHAPTER XXII. FROM UNDER THE SQUARE-SAIL YARD. By the rules of civilized warfare I had rendered the surgeon incapable of offensive action, but, apart from his word of honor, my best defense seemed to lie in his cow ardice and ready acquiescence to my de mands. Even in my intense interest in the welfare of my friend I did not follow the doctor to his side. I had matters on my heart and hands requiring immediate atten tion, but my first business was to rid the cabin of the repulsive carcass that cumbered the foot of the companion way. With as little feeling as though I was handling a bale of goods, I turned Louns bury over that I might be sure of his death, and by the limp and hideous way his head fell to his shoulder 1 knew he was past all surgery. Grasping him by the I hauled him to the deck, and from thence to the rail, launching him over the side with the feeling that with him went the last of my ill luck. With the dead man's cutlass about my waist and McCary's pistol in my belt (a poor place for a dry priming, as I was still reeking with wet), 1 went again into the cabin, and with an apology to the doctor for leaving him in the dark, took the lantern from its hook on the beam and hur ried to where the wreck of the top hamper still covered the deck about the foremast. Though the light was seen from the Sprite, it would create no suspicion; so, seizing the lantern to a hoop in the mast, 1 attacked the mass of broken spar, gear and canvas, that 1 might verify or prove groundless the more than half hope which had come to me while I hung beneath the wreck of the din gy. Then the hope was but a flimsy tissue; now it was tinged with fear. If the girl had not been struck down by a falling spar and hidden by the folds of the square sail, then she must have been translated, for of her deliberate self-destruction I would not now believe. There was a desperate thumping on the forecastle hatch by the Imprisoned trio, but I paid no attention to it, anil indeed I was so engrossed in my present business that nothing short of the splintering of the cover or the arrival on a belated errand of a boat from the Sprite, would have caused me to desist. The first I uncovered was what I thought to be a pair of booted legs, but they proved to be no more than my own foot gear which I had stowed near the mast the night before, for si:,ce boarding the Phantom in the fog I had gone unshod. The wreck had been thrown into a fairly compact mass by the side of the hatch, and it was perhaps five minutes before I had gotten to the bottom of it. But 1 was well rewarded. Ere 1 had cast aside the last of the fallen hamper I heard a slight groan, and, on pulling away a mixture of torn sail and tangled line, I saw the object of my search. [TO BE CONTINUED.] CLEVER ESCAPES. Ingenious Resort* of Persona to Ex tricate Themselves front Awliirnrd .Situations. A recent visitor to the Orkney islands employed himself in gathering from the natives many tales and traditions of the experiences of Orcadian men during the dajs of the press-gang— tales which form the staple of story telling in the islands, and are handed down with great exactness and detail. Although many of the islanders were pressed into the navy, many escaped, by daring and cleverness in eluding the press-gangs, and they were efficiently aided in their escape by the women. One man, Robert Miller, was about to be married, the guests were as sembled, and the ceremony was about to begin, when the dreaded press-gang arrived. The liated men were so hot ly received by the ladies, including the bride and her maids, who treated them not only to sharp words, but also to more or less dangerous missiles, that they were forced to beat a retreat. Xo sooner were they gone than the doors were locked, a back window lift ed, and into the room bounded the bridegroom, who had been secreted dur ing the turmoil, lie was arrayed from head to foot(ii>)feminine attire, and was married just as he was, in petticoat and bodice, ready to fly instantly in his disguise should the gang return. Two girls, Barbara Wick and. Bar bara Dinnie, distinguished themselves by rushing from their spinning wheels to cover the retreat of two young men, pursued in their dory by a cruiser's boat; one of the youths being the first Barbara's betrothed. They watched the shoreward race, encouraged the exhausted rowers, pointed out the best landing place at the foot of a crag, meanwhile gather ing stones in their aprons, and as the hunted men leaped ashore they helped them up the cliff, and then, bidding them run on, protected their flight by hurling down stones upon the sailors who tried to follow. Barbara Wick fought so fiercely that it was long ere any man dared face her, but at last one, bolder than the rest, sprang up, broke past her range of stoning, and not wishing to hurt so gallairt an enemy yet intent on pun ishing her a little in a fa-shion he deemed suitable to a pretty girl, caught her in his arms to kiss her. But he only courted disaster, for she flung him from her so violently that he fell back on his mates, and, each overthrowing the other, the whole of them rolled pell mell down the rocks, while Barbara's lover and his companion made their escape. One bright young fellow, with plenty of fortitude, saved himself by an in genious stratagem. He, too, was en gaged to be married, and was deter mined not to be taken from his sweet heart. He was pursued and headed off. Seeing capture inevitable, before he could be reached he stripped olt his clothes, rolled in. a bed of nettles, and dressed again. When the gang came up, he submit ted to be taken; but on being brought before the surgeon to be examined his wliqle body was found to be fright fully blistered from head to foot, and the dismayed official, supposing him to be suffering from some shocking skin disease, that was probably contagious, hastily released him. He was declared unfit for his majesty's service, and al lowed to return to his lady-love and nurse his blisters in peace.—Youth's Companion, Wonderful. "nis parents have spent a great deal of money upon his education, haven't the j'?" "I should say so. You ought to feel hia muscle."—Detroit Free Press. LiiiKiinl CoiifiiMUm, "Julia, I can say: 'llow d'ye do* and 'Good-by' in French." "Ah, that's Rood, as far as it goes." "Yes; but I can't remember which is w hicli."—Brook Iy n Life. To He Depended On. "Isn't Maud a rather uncertain friend?" "Not at all; whenever she comes tc see me I know she wants something.' —Chicago Record. HEALTHFUL SLEEP. It Cannot He Seeured Inleaa the Sprint of the lied la Level and Properly Adjuated. The most important element in solv ing' the question of how shall we get the best and most refreshing sleep is that of the bed. If your bed or mattress it not right you will not get the best and most from your hours of repose. Every one knows that it is bad to sleep on your back, but it is even worse if the bed is such that your stomach is as high as your head and your feet are lower than both, as must be the case on too heavily wadded mattresses. On the other hand, if the spring is too yield ing you will find that the heavy parts of the body make you lie in a kind of hollow, whether you sleep on your back or on your side. It is most unliealthful to have your feet so high as they are in this kind of bed, when you sleep on your back, and if you try to sleep on your side the spine is curved most uncom fortably and unhealtlifully. What then is to be done about it? The spring of the bed must either be L— —" wrong position WRONO POSITION RIOHT POSITION RIGHT AND WRONG POSITIONS. made in several pieces, or be made up of spiral springs, so that all parts are in dependent of one another, and the springs at the center are stronger than those at the head and foot, because they have more •weight to support. In this way it becomes possible for the tired man or woman to obtain the greatest possible amount of benefit from the hours devoted to sleep. If they will use a moderately hard mattress, of cotton or hair, never of feathers, and not too high a pillow, seeing that when they are in bed the body is not curled up in a knot by the poor springs and that the feet and back are in almost a straight line, the repose gained while lying either on the right or left side will prove refreshing and healthful.— Chicago Kecord. THE LINEN COLLAR. How to Transform a Soiled, Crumpled One Into a Frmh One In Five Mlnutea. Rail against linen collars as one will they hold a place for trim morning or street toilets that has not yet been filled by any of the numerous styles of neck lingerie exhibited in the shops just now. To transform a soiled, crum pled collar into a fresh, clean one may be made the work of a few moments without so much as a visit to kitchen or laundry. A cheap little affair that fits on the gas fixture or large lamp will insure a hot iron, and with the aid of a bit of white castile soap and a little powdered French chalk, a nice finish may be given to the linen. The latter, however, must not be confused with the high polish no longer desirable. When the linen has been washed and starched in the usual way ("elastic" or cold water starch does away with the need of boiling water), place the collar on the ironing board well stretched, and just before applying the hot iron rub first with a damp cloth rubbed over with the soap, then with another upon which the chalk has been sprin kled. This application and the ironing is all to be done on the right side. Do not attempt to dry thoroughly while ironing, as this turns linen yellow, but finish by drying in the sun if there is no heat convenient. The use at the last of white castile soap and French chalk gives a coating to the linen that helps much in the washing, as after a few minutes' soaking in tepid water the dirt slips off without having penetrated the whole. This hint will be found a very practical one, as it insures against the ingrained dust and grease which is so ditlicult to deal with in quick laundry work. This does not, however, do away with the need of thorough rinsing.— Cincinnati Commercial Tribune. Care of the Finger Nulla. Great attention should be paid to keeping the nails brushed at least twice a day, not with a stiff brush, but with a soft one, preferably a camel's hair brush, and the skin around the lower part should be kept down by rubbing with a soft towel. In this way the "moons" are exposed, and these are in dicative both of health and beauty. The habit of running a pointed instrument around the nail under the flesh is not to be advised, as it makes the skin tender, and, if the material of the instrument is a cheap metal, sometimes brings on blood poison. The sides of the nails need clipping about once during the week. It' they become stained wash them well with a pure soap, and after rinsing off the soap brush them with lemon juice. oiillcliiK I.nmp. ** T noticed you started to smoke last wght when Miss Sweetey was enter taining Mr. Slowpop," remarked the piano stool. "Yes," replied the pavlor lamp. "I saw she was just waiting for an excuse to turn me down." —Catholic Standard and Times LITTLE ROSE CRAIG. Ellen Terry In llrlnK'nv I'p Da Urnnilehllil to lip (lie Aotreas of tlie Future. Miss Ellen Terry, who is now playing in this country with Sir Henry Irving, is trying an interesting experiment. It is her theory that u girl can be so edu cated that she cannot fail to succeed as an actress; that if a parent will he gin to teach his boy to act at the very moment when he lirst initiates him into the mysteries of the alphabet he cannot fail to win fame and fortune oa the stage. In other words, while she does not entirely disregard the old theory that men and women are born players, just as they are born poets, she is of the opinion that early training is even more important, and she is now engaged ii making a practical application of hei theory. No one who has seen Miss Ellen Terry play the youthful Clarisse de Maulucon would ever imagine that she was i grandmother, and yet such is the fact Moreover, unlike many actresses, Miss Terry is not ashamed of her age. She is proud of the fact that she has been able to defy the ravages of the year." so well, and she openly boasts of th. little grandchild who is to be the great actress to whom the world will pay its honors when she, the grandmother, shall have ceased to play her parts. The name of the little child who is being educated up to this ideal is Rose Marie Craig, and she is the daughter of Miss Terry's son, Gordon. At pres ent little Miss Craig is but four years of age, but in spite of this, her training has already commenced. When she still lay in her cradle hei charming young grandmother dedi cated her life to the stage, and her fa ther and mother are anxiously assist ing Miss Terry in carrying out the ex periment. The}' have full confidence in her theory. They believe that she can do what she says she will do, and Ihat their little girl will yet be the greatest actress the world has ever seen. To begin with, the child shall be so educated that she will have no self consciousness. To Miss Terry's mind this is the gravest of all faults, and la fatal to the success of man or woman on the stage. Already she is learning to have confidence in herself, and on her seventh birthday she will make hei bow to the public. Miss Terry believes that the period of self-consciousness begins soon aftei ROSE MARIE CRAIG. (Ellen Terry's Talented Young Grand* daughter.) a person has attained this age, and she propos.es that her grandchild shall be come used to seeing vast audiences be fore she has become old enough to be tainted with this one grave fault. She herself appeared upon the stage when she was eight years of age, and that, she believes, is the reason why sh has never realized that a crowd of people had their eyes fixed upon her. As it is, she never sees an audience, and the vast sea of faces that so terrifie many players has no effect upon h Little Miss Craig is to be given t same advantage. The next two years of the child's li will be spent in the theater. As oftei as possible she will be upon the stage during the progress of the plays. At first she will be given no lines, but she will have her place and she will be ex pected to fill it creditably. She will also be permitted to play about in the wings. She will become well acquainted with the uses of scenery and drops. She will learn all about wigs and paints. Costumes will become an old story to her. During this time no one will be al lowed to flatter her. .Tudicioys praisr may be given, but little of it, and she will be taught to believe that the only way to do a thing is to do it well. While she is undergoing this training, however, her physical training will not be neglected. She will have plenty of fresh country air. She will play in the fields. She w ill wear loose clothing. Everything will be done to make her a perfect specimen of healthy woman hood. Whether she is at home or on the stage, she will be surrounded by the best of people only. When little Miss Craig is nine years of age attention will be paid to her or dinary education. She will learn t' read ( lie best books. She will betaugh to see the beauty in blank verse. Sh. will study the dramatists. She will be come familiar with the people and cus toins of all ages. She will learn to play upon musical instruments, t' sing, but above all. she will be taught t observe people. When all this has bee'i accomplished she will be ready tog back to the stage.—-Chicago Democrat I.one-I.lved Nor wen'ln n*. In Norway the average length of li is said to be greater than in any oth. country on the globe.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers