6
A LULLABY.
Ton goto sleep, young feller.
This ain't no time of day
To set up straight and solemn.
An' stare around that way.
Them moonbeams on the carpet
Ain't nothin' you can git.
Them's just to show the angels
Has got their candles lit.
You want 'em? Well, to-morrow
I'll get 'em, ef they keep.
But now It's nearly mornln',
So you jus' goto sleep.
No, sir! You can't be hungry.
You needn't jerk and fret,
I'm certain sure It wasn't
An hour sence you ct.
There, now, 1 ketched you smilln'.
You little rascal. Shame!
To try to work your daddy
With such a low-down gams.
No, never mind explorin'.
You ain't no call to creep;
You stay here an' be quiet.
An' try an' goto sleep.
You see them stars out yonder?
Well, all o' them is eyes
That belongs to little angels
Way up there in the skies.
An' all them little angels
Ain't got a thing to do
But jus' set up in Heaven
An' keep them eyes on you.
They'll sec your eyes Wide open,
An starln' when they keep
In through the window at you—
You better goto sleep.
I don't know what you're sayin',
Your lingo's Creek lo mo,
But you know what I tell you,
That's easy for to see;
An' I'm jus' gtulr. tired
O' rockln' you all r.ight,
Ar.' talkin' whi! you listen,
A-smilin' with delight.
I got to work to-morrow,
An' 'tain't fur you to keep
lie up all night a-tryin'
To make you goto sleep.
There, there, don't feel that way,
I jus' soon do It. Geo!
I know there ain't nobody
To love you 'ceptin' me.
You set up all you want to.
You needn't close an eye.
Fur dad Is mighty sorry
He made his baby cry.
You need your ma, pore feller,
But she's a-lyin' deep
Beneath the trees out yonder-
There, there, now goto sleep.
—J. J. Montague, In Portland Or
egonian.
My Strangest Case
BY GUY BOOTHBY.
Author of "Dr. Kikola," "Tlie Beautiful
White Devii," "Pharos, The
Egyptian," Etc.
V , J
[Copyrighted, 1901, by Ward, Lock &. Co.]
PAIJT III.—CONTINUED.
An hour later tlie stranger was so
far recovered as to be able to join |
his hosts at their evening l meal, fie- !
tween them they had managed to fit
him out with a somewhat composite |
set of garments. He had shaved off
his beard, had reduced liis hair to
something like order, and in conse
quence had now the outward resem
blance at least of a gentleman.
"Come, that's better," said Greg- j
ory, as he welcomed him. "I don't \
know what your usual self may be j
like, but you certainly have more the j
appearance of a man, and less that !
of a skeleton than when we first
brought you in. You must have
been pretty hard jnit to it out yon- i
der."
The recollection of all he had been j
through was so vivid that the man i
shuddered at the mere thought of j
it.
"I wouldn't go through it again for j
worlds," he said. "You don't know
what I've endured."
"Trading over the border alone?"
Gregory inquired.
The man shook his head.
"Tried to walk across from Pe- i
king," he said, "via Szechuen and
Yunnan. Nearly died of dysentery in
Yunnan city. While I was there my
servants deserted me, taking with
them every halfpenny I possessed.
Being suspected by the mandarins, I
was thrown into prison, managed
eventually to escape, and so made
my way on here. I thought to-day
■was going to prove my last."
"You have had a hard time of it,
by Jove," said Dempsey; "but you've
managed to come out of it alive.
And now where are you going?"
"I want, if possible, to get to Kan
goon," the other replied. "Then I
•hall ship for England as best as I
can. I've had enough of China to
last me a lifetime."
From that moment the stranger
did not refer again to his journey, lie
was singularly reticent upon this
point, and feeling that perhaps the
recollection of all he l*ud suffered
might be painful to him, the two
men did not press him to unburden
himself.
"He's a strange sort of fellow,"
«aid Gregory to Dempsey, later in
the evening, when the other had re
tired to rest. "If he has walked from
Peking here, as he says, he's more
than a little modest about it. I'll be
bound his is a funny story if only he
would condescend to tell it."
They would have been more cer
tain than ever of this fact had they
been able to see their guest at that
particular moment. In the solitude
of his own room he had removed a
broad leather belt from round his
waist. From the pocket of this belt
he shook out upwards of a hundred
rubies and sapphires of extraordi
nary size. He counted them carefully,
replaced them in his belt., and then
once more secured the latter about
his waist.
"At last I am safe," he muttered
"to himself, "but it was a close
shave—a very close shave. I wouldn't
do that journey again for all the
money the stones are worth. No! not
for twice tlie amount."
Next morning George Bertram, as
he called himself, left Nampoung for
Bhamo, with Gregory's check for 500
rupees in his pocket.
"You must take it," said that indi
vidual in reply to the other's half
"Treat It as a loan if you like. You
can return it to me when you are in
better circumstances. 1 assure you
we don't want it. We can't spend
money out here."
Little did he imagine when he made
that offer, the immense wealth which
the other carried in the belt that en
circled his waist. Needless to say,
llayle said nothing to him upon the
subject. He merely pocketed the
check with an expression of his grat
itude, promising to repay it as soon
as lie reached London. As a matter
of fact he did so, and to this day, I j
have no doubt, Gregory regards him j
as a man of the most scrupulous and i
unusual integrity.
Two days later the wanderer j
reached Blianio, that important mili- \
tary post on the sluggish Irrawaddy. I
His appearance, thanks to Gregory's
and Deinpsey's kind offices, was now
sufficiently conventional to attract
little or no attention, so he negoti-,
ated the captain's check, fitted him-|
self out with a few other things that
lie required, and then set off for Man
dalay. From Mandalay he proceeded \
as fast as steam could take him to
Rangoon, where, after the exercise
of some diplomacy, he secured pas
sage aboard a tramp steamer bound
for England.
When the Shweydagon was lost in
the evening mist, and the steamer
had made her way slowly down the
sluggish stream with the rice-fields
on either side, llayle went aft and
took his last look at the land to
which he was Saying good-by.
"A quarter of a million if a half
penny," lie said, "and as sqon as they
are sold and the money is in my
hands, the leaf shall be turned, and
my life for the future shall be all
respectability."
PART IV.
Two months had elapsed since the
mysterious traveler from China had
left the lonely frontier station of
Nampoung. In outward appearance
it was very much the same as it had
been then. The only difference con
sisted in the fact that Capt. Greg
ory and his subaltern Dempsey, hav
ing finished their period of enforced
exile, had returned to Bhamo to join
the main body of their regiment. A
Capt. liandinian and a subaltern
named Grantham had taken their
places, and were imitating them in
asmuch as they spent the greater por
tion of their time fishing and com
plaining of the hardness of their
lot. It was the more unfortunate in
their case that they did not get on
very well together. The fact of the
matter was Handiman was built on
very different lines to Gregory, his
predecessor; he gave himself airs, and
was fond of asserting his authority.
In consequence the solitary life at
the ford sat heavily upon both men.
One hot afternoon Grantham, who
was a keen sportsman, took his gun,
and, accompanied by a wiry little
Shan servant, departed into the jun
gle on shikar thoughts intent. lie
was less successful than usual; indeed,
he had proceeded fully three miles be
fore he saw anything worth empty
ing his gun at. In the jungle the air
was as close as a hothouse, and the
perspiration ran dov.n his face in
streams.
"What an ass I was to come out!"
he said angrily to himself. "This heat
is unbearable."
At that moment a crashing noise
reached him from behind. Turning to
discover what occasioned it, he was
: just in time to see a large boar cross
the clearing and disappear into the
bamboos on the furl her side. Taking
his rifle from the little Shan he set off
in pursuit. It was no easy task, for the
jungle in that neighborhood was so
' dense that it was well-nigh impossible
I to make one's way through it. At last,
however, they hit upon a dried up nul
lah, and followed it along, listening as
they went to the progress the boar
was making among the bamboos on
their right. Presently they sighted
him, crossing an open space a couple
of hundred yards or so ahead of them.
On the further side he stopped and be
gan to feed. This was Grantham's op
portunity, and, sighting his rifle, lie
tired. The beast dropped like a stone,
well hit, just behind the shoulder. The
report, however, had scarcely died
away before the little Shan held up his
hand to attract Grantliam'sshoulder.
"What is it?" the other inquired.
Before the man had time to reply
his quick ear caught the sound of a
faint call from the jungle on the other
side of the nullah. Without doubt it
was the English word help, and, who
ever the man might be who called, it
was plain that he was in sore straits.
"What the deuce does it mean?" said
Grantham, half to himself and half to
the man beside him. "Some poor devil
got lost in the jungle, I supposo? I'll
go and have a look."
Having climbed the bank of the nul
lah, he was about to proceed in the
direction whence the cry had come,
when he became aware of the most ex
traordinary figure he had ever seen in
his life approaching him. The appear
ance Hayle had presented when lie had
turned up at the Ford two months be
fore was nothing compared with that
of this individual. He was a small
man, not more than five feet in height.
Ilis clothes were in rags, a grizzly
beard grew in patches upon his cheeks
and chin, while his hair reached nearly
to his shoulders. His face was pinched
until it looked more like that of a
skeleton than a man. Grantham stood
and stared at him, scarcely able to be
lieve his eyes.
"Good Heavens," he said to himself,
"what a figure! I wonder where the
beggar hails from?" Then addressing
the man, lie continued: "Are you an
Englishman, or what are you?"
The man before hitn, however, did
not reply. He placed his linger 011 his
lips, and turning, pointed in the direc
tion he had come.
"Either he doesn't understand, or
he's dumb," said Grantham. "But it's
quite certain that he wants me to fol-
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, APRIL 3, 1902.
Turning' to the man again, he signed
to him to proceed, whereupon the lit
tle fellow hobbled painfully away from
the nullah in the direction whence he
had appeared. On and 011 he went tin
til he at length came to a standstill at
the foot of a hill, where a little stream
came splashing down in a miniature
cascade from the rocks above. Then
Grantham realized the meaning of the
little man's action. Stretched out be
side a rock was the tall figure of a man.
Like his companion, he presented a
miserable appearance. His clothes, if
clothes they could be called, were in
rags, his hair was long and snowy
white, matching his beard, which de
scended to within a few inches of his
waist. Ilis eyes were closed, and for a
moment Grantham thought he was
dead. This was not the case, however,
for upon his companion approaching
him he held out his hand and inquired
whether he had discovered the man
who had fired the shot?
To Grantham's surprise the other
made no reply in words, but, taking
his friend's hand he made some mys
terious movements upon it with his
fingers, whereupon the latter raised
himself to a sitting position.
"My friend tells me that you are
an Englishman," he said, in a voice
that shook with emotion. "I'm glad
we have found you. I heard your
rifleshot and bailed you. We are in
sore distress, and have been through
such adventures and such misery as
110 man would believe. I have poi
soned my foot, and am unable to
walk any further. As you can see
for yourself J am blind, while my
companion is dumb."
This statement accounted for the
smaller man's curious behavior and
the other's closed eyes.
"You have suffered indeed," said
Grantham, pityingly. "But how did
it all come about?"
"We were traders, and we fell into
the hands of the Chinese," the taller
man answered. "With their usual
amiability they set to work to tor
ture us. My companion's tongue they
cut out at the roots, while, as I have
said, they deprived me of my sight.
After that they turned us loose to
go where we would. We have wan
dered here, there and everywhere,
living on what we could pick up, and
dying a thousand deaths every day.
It would have been better if we had
died outright—but somehow we've
come through. Can you take us to
a place where we can procure food?
We've been living 011 jungle fruit for
an eternity. My foot wants looking
to pretty badly, too."
"We'll do all we can for you," said
Grantham. "That's if we can get you
down to the ford, which is about five
rtiiies away."
"You'll have to carry me, then,
for I'm too far gone to walk."
"I think it can be managed," said
Grantham. "At any rate we'll try."
Turning to the little Shan he dis
patehed him with a message to
Handiman, and when the other had
disappeared, knelt down beside the
tall man and set to work to examine
his injured foot. There could be no
doubt that it was in a very serious
condition. Tramping through the
jungle lie had managed to poison it,
and had been unable to apply the
necessary remedies. Obtaining some
water from the stream Grantham
bathed it tenderly, and then bound it
up as well as he could with his hand
kerchief.
"That's the best I can do for you
for the present." he said. "We must
leave it as it is, and, when we get
you to the station, we will see what
else can be managed."
He looked up and saw the little
man's eyes watched him intently.
There was a look of almost dog-like
affection in them for his companion,
that went to the young soldier's
heart.
"By Jove," he said, "I'm sorry for
you fellows. You must have suffered
agonies. The Chinese are devils. 15ut
yours is not the first case we have
heard of. We only come lip here for
a month at a time, but the man we
relieved told us a strange tale about
another poor beggar who came into
the station some two months ago.
He had been wandering in the jungle,
and was nearly at death's door."
The blind man gave a start, while
the little man seized his hand and
made a number of rapid movements
upon it with his fingers.
"My friend wants to know if you are
aware of that man's name?" he said.
"We lost a companion, and he thinks
that he may be the man. For heav
en's sake tell us what you know.
You have no idea what it means
to us."
"Since you are so interested in him
I am sorry to have to say that I do
not know very much. You see he had
very little to do with us. As I have
said, he turned up while our prede
cessors were here. From what I
heard about him from Gregory, he
gathered that he was a tall, thin
man, who had come through from
Peking by way of Yunnan."
"Are you sure it was from Yun
nan ?"
"That's what they told me," said
Grantham. "Since then I have heard
that he was on his way from Peking
to Burmah, and that his coolies had
robbed him of all he possessed."
"You don't happen to remember his
name, I suppose!"
The blind man tried to ask the
question calmly, but his voice failed
him.
"As far as I remember his name
was George Bertram," Grantham an
swered.
There was a pause for a few sec
onds, after which the blind man be
gan again—
"lie didn't tell you, I suppose,
whether he had any money about
him?"
"He hadn't a red cent," said Grant
ham. "The Chinese cleared him out.
They lent him the money to get to
liangoon. I happen to know that be
cause he cashed my friend's check in
Vhamo."
There was another and somewhat
longer pause.
"You did not hear whether he had
any precious stones in his posses
sion ?"
"Good gracious, no! From what
they told me I gathered that the man
hadn't a halfpenny in the world.
Why should he have been likely to
have had jewels? In point of fact
I'm sure he hadn't, for I was given
to understand he was about as woe
begone a customer as could be found
anywhere."
The blind man uttered a heavy sigh
and sank back to his former position
upon the ground.
An hour ar.d a half later, just as
the shadows of evening were drawing
in, a party of Sikhs putin an appear
ance, bringing with them a dhooly,
in which they placed the injured man.
It was almost dark when they
reached the station, where Grant
ham's superior ollicer was awaiting
their coming.
"What on earth's the meaning of
this?" he asked, as the cortege drew
up before the bungalow. "Who are
these men? And where did you find
them?"
Grantham made his report, and
then the wounded man was lifted
out and carried to a hut at the rear
of the main block of buildings. The
little man watched everything with
an eagle eye, as if he were afraid
some evil might be practiced upon his
companion. When the blind man had
been placed on a bed, and his foot at
tended to as well as the rough sur
gery of the place would admit, Grant
ham did something he had not al
ready done, and that was to ask them
their names.
"My name is Ivitwater," said the
blind man,"and the name of my
friend here is Codd —Septimus Codd.
He's one of the best and stanchest
little fellows in the world. I don't
know whether our names will con
vey much to you, but such as they
are you are welcome to them. As a
matter of fact, they are all we have
with which to requite your hospi
tality."
Why it should have been so I can
not say, but it was evident from the
first that Capt. Handiman did not be
lieve the account the refugees gave of
themselves. He was one of that pe
culiar description of persons who
have an idea that it adds to their dig
nity not to believe anything that is
told them, and he certainly acted up
to it on every possible occasion.
[To Be Continued.]
CRUSHED BY BERNHARDT.
How llie I'n n» ou«» French Woman
Diiieoiiiliteil a Periviatent
Artiat.
When Mme. Sarah Bernhardt was
in one of our western cities a few
years ago an artist exasperated her
by persistent invitations to visit his
studio to see a portrait of herself,
relates the Philadelphia Saturday
Evening 1 I'ost. He had made it, he
said, from a painting which he had
seen and studied in l'aris some time
before.
Finally, after repeated urging- on
his part, she went to the studio.
Standing before the canvas she sim
ulated the keenest rapture as she
looked at the portrait, and she com
plimented the man in extravagant
French.
"It is beautiful, grand!" she de
clared. "It is magnificent!" Then
suddenly, to the utter discomfiture of
the persistent artist, she added:
"And of whom, pray tell me, sir,
is this a portrait?"
One of Mme. Bernhardt's best por
traits was painted by M.de Gandara.
The actress had come to his studio
to make the preliminary arrange
ments. As she was leaving she half
turned at the doorway to make her
adieus and unconsciously fell into
an admirable pose, of which the art
ist took immediate advantage.
Knew Too Much,
A young man employed in an oys
ter sljop has lost his situation, and
this because he gave prompt answer
to his employer's eager question.
The employer had six lively little land
turtles, which attracted much atten
tion as they wandered aimlessly
about the window, lie painted a
large white letter on the back of
each of the shells, and put up a no
tice to the effect that, whenever the
turtles got into such relative posi
tions that the letters spelled "oys
ter," he would present half a dozen
natives to everyone who was looking
on. Then he became frightened lest
the mystic word should occur too
often, and covered reams of paper
figuring out the odds. lie gave it up
at last, and was about to remove the
turtles when his most accomplished
oyster opener informed him that the
odds were 720 to 1 against the com
bination. The turtles are still in the
window, but the oyster opener has
gone. Such knowledge of odds, the
employer thought, could have been
acquired only by years of betting ex
perience. It is not wise to be too
wise.—London Chronicle.
I'nexpeeteil Erudition,
An absent-minded professor of lan
guages dropped into a restaurant one
day for a luncheon.
"What will you have, sir?" asked the
waiter.
"Fried eggs," replied the professor.
"Over?" said the waiter, meaning, of
course, to ask whether he wanted them
cooked on both sides or only one.
"Ova?" echoed the professor, sur
prised at his apparent familiarity with
Latin. "Certainly. That is what 1 or
dered. Ova gallinae."
This the waiter interpreted as mean
ing "extra well done," and that is the
way they came to the table.
>ln«lc It llnilinsr Mad.
It probably made the kettle boil
when the pot called it black.—Chicago
Daily TTcws,
PUZZLE PICTURE.
•♦GOOD MOUMXOI, E7.KA. WHAT AUK VOL HEADING*"
WHO IS SI'EAK l\(i 112
THE FIGHTING MATE.
DCCIMI ve Action or it I'lcnsiinf-Fnocil
Sailor «t a Critical Mo
ment.
A ship at. sea is an isolated world.
Not only does the little floating vil
lage depend on the stoutness of the
planks beneath it, but the safety and
comfort of those on board depend on
obedience to intelligent orders. The
man who rules must rule often, as
does a chieftain of a lialf-savage
tribe, by physical force. Mr. Frank
T. Bullcn, author of"The Men of the
Merchant Service," is no advocate of
violence on the part of officers, but,
as he explains, if there is no weight
of force behind an order, men will
always be found who will disobey.
One of Mr. Bullen's earliest recollec
tions of sailor life is of an incident
on board the East Lothian.
"The men had been demoralized by
a cowardly second mate who was
finally discharged at Bombay. His
successor was a splendid specimen of
a seaman, not too tall, finely propor
tioned, and of a very pleasant face.
"The first morning he was on board
we were washing decks. Mr. Eaton,
the new second mate, was having a
look round the ship, and stayed for
ward, where two men were passing l
water out of the big wash-deck tub.
As Mr. Eaton passed, one of them,
carelessly slinging a bucket toward
The Club Woman Does
Not Neglect Her Home
—
By MRS. WM. TODD HELMUTH 1
President of the New York State Federation of Women's Clubs.
— JJI Perhaps the objection most often urged
against the club woman, so-called, is that
r she neglects her home and family.
.mm I must say that I have not seen any of
!£ - 'lll those neglected homes and families. ()n the
112 lP®| W* contrary, my observation has been that the
women who are the most enthusiastic in
V fmjjjim women's movements are usually the best
wives and mothers. Their rooms are not
> l ' v kept in disorder. Their children are not
" * * neglected. They know everything about a
r »>s' ** house. They can cook anything, from oat
, > , meal porridge to terrapin, and can make
beds and iron shirts, as well. And yet they
can f in( ] time to give to the movements in
which they are interested.
All this, you say, is mere statement. No, it is a correct state
ment, based upon the observation of a lifetime.
WHY, THE LEADING AIMS OF WOMEN'S ORGANIZA
TIONS ARE THE ENCOURAGING OF DOMESTICITY AND
THE FOSTERING OF HOME TIES.
Woman has always been a little queen in her own home. She
cannot be anything else. The home is her domain. All her inter
ests are centered there. It is to improve herself, to give herself
a better equipment for her mission in the home that she frequents
the club.
The club gives her a broader outlook. It makes her more char
itable and more considerate of the feelings of others. It teaches
her that there are other women besides herself and other things be
sides her own little personal affairs. This alone is of incalculable
value to herself, her children, her husband and her friends.
Here is another remark which is not mere statement. \\ OM
EN DO NOT MEET IN THEIR CLUBS TO GOSSIP. That is
one thing that is particularly avoided. Jf you give the matter one
moment's consideration you will realize that the difference between
the conversation of clubwomen and other women is noticeably to
the advantage of the former.
THE CLUB IS AN EDUCATOR
AND THE CLUBWOMAN HAS IHGII AIMS. She is AC
TIVELY for everything that is good. She is ACTIV ELY against
everything that is bad. She is forever seeking to broaden her field of
labor and her usefulness to humanity and in this she renders herself
the best friend of her sex.
Of course there are fanatics in women's movements as there are
in men's movements. But every great movement needs fanatics.
These earnest spirits do not accomplish all they strive after, but the
results achieved are a happy medium between their ideals and those
of the lukewarm advocates of the cause they are engagd in.
111e other, dropped it and cut Ihe deck
badly with its edge. With n glance at
the new officer, he burst out into
furious cursing at the other man for
not catching it. Mr. Eaton turned
quietly to him and said:
"'lf you don't shut that foul head
up, I'll shut it for you!'
"The man, a huge New York non
descript, deceived by Mr. Eaton's
pleasant look, strode up to him,
swearing horribly and threatening to
kill him. Fur answer the second mate
leaped at him and seized him by the
throat and waistband, and the next
minute he was flying over the rail
into the sea.
"Mr. Eaton turned swiftly, and was
just in time to catch the other man
in mid-rush at him with a squarely
planted blow on the cliin, which land
ed him a clucking heap in the scup
pers.
"By this time the other men had
seen the fray and rushed forward,
shouting: 'Kill him!' Presently
Eaton was the center of a howling
gang threatening his life. But he
armed himself with a 'norman,' a
handy iron bar from the windlass,
and none of them dared face him
with that terrible weapon. The
skipper and the first mate came rush
ing forward, and ranged themselves
by the side of the second mate. In
two minutes the whole tone of the
ship was altered. It was never again
necessary to resort to violence."