Pittsburg dispatch. (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, September 01, 1889, SECOND PART, Page 10, Image 10
'-S v? the HteroDBSJ2SraHP SJ8S Hqw -"" ' K W c fi . iee these races read these words with sympathy, as the idle ravings ot a man veil iiiigh gone mad over woman's false beauty. never told the story even to you, my dear another. I dare say yon guessed much of it. Yon know how Helen Bankine came down from London to our quiet country home. You know how beautiful and gracious she was. How kind and loving to you,how appar ently frank and friendly with me. She was the first woman I ever saw to whom I gave a second thought, save you, dear mother, we rode and drove and chatted together. ,6he drew my very heart from me. I told ler all my plans and hopes and aspirations; of my love of the art to which I had devoted any life; that I hoped to go to London and study, and then to Borne; that I wanted to (become a great painter. She was so full of hearty sympathy, so kind, so womanly, that before I knew it she had me enslaved. For all the graciousne'ss and frankness and sym pathy were but the means she used in her Ibeartlessness to enslave me. Then came a (day a day to be remembered; a day like that, when beguiled by anotLcr beautiful ffiend in woman form, our first father, poor, Ifoolish man, ate of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and so lost his ,paradise. 1 told Helen of my love, and how I did love that woaian. And she pat on an appearance of surprise, and squeezed a cold tear or two from her beauti ful eyes, and said that she thought I knew ' and understood. And when half dazed I asked her what sbe meant, what it was that 'I was tbonght to have known, she had to T)lush and said that she had long been en raged to her cousin John Bruce, who was now with his regiment in India, and that when he came home they were to be married. And then she said something about my oeing so young and having a great career before me, and that she should always be my friend, and would pray for my success. And she stretched out her hand toward me. J think she must have seen the hate in my face, for my great love turned to great hate een while'she speke, and all the wholesome currents of my being seemed poisoned by the supreme passion, ana sue turned pale, and her band dropped, and I cursed her. March 10 A call from TJnele John inter rupted me the other day, and I have had no heart to write since. My moods shame me. I wrote those words with blrning cheek and throbbing heart. I have just read them without emotion. Why can't I be a man, and not a silly, raving boy? Not that the hate that burns in my heart is abating. It can never abate. It will grow and grow, and keep me true to my purpose. No more mooning over art and the hope of a great name; but hard work and money making. Uncle John promises us both fortunes. He feels confident that his explosive will work such wonders in Australian mines that within ten jears we can go back to England Tich beyond the dreams of avarice. But I shall never see England again. No matter what I may have written here. JCevcr shall I set foot on the land that rears such women as the one I hate. Captain Baymond was almost angry when he learned that in Uncle John's innocent-looking boxes was a com pound powerful enough to blow us ' all out of the water. But he was somen hat reassured when Uncle in sisted that as long as the Albatross floated she and we were safe; for he cays that the explosive is only an explosive when wet. Captain Baymond said that he'd try and keep it dry then, and he sent men into the hold where the boxes were stored, and had them placed carefully in an unused cabin. "Ve are the only passengers. I made sure that no woman was to be on board during the long voyage. I came near being disap pointed in this, for Captain Bavmond tells me that his wife was to sail with him, and had made all preparations, even to sending some boxes of clothing aboard, when the sudden death of her father prevented her irgm going. I'm sure I'm sorry that Mrs Baymond's father is dead, but I'm very glad that Mrs. Baymond is not on this ship. 1 don't want to look on woman's face, nor hear woman's voice. There's but one woman to me in the wide world and, dear mother, forgive me if sometimes I cannot thank her for bringing me into the world, you under stand me, mother. Xou know what I have suffered. You can sympathize with me when I cay that I exult at the thought that leagues of ocean lie between me and that other woman, who March 12. A strange thing has hap pened since I last wrote in this book. As I was writing I heard quite a commotion on deck; cries of the sailors, sharp orders from officers, and the trampling of feet. I rushed on deck. Uncle John and the Captainwere standing on Jhe poop, looking intently across the water; the first mate was shouting orders that I couldn't understand, and the crew were lowering the long boat. "What's the matter?" I asked, joining uncle and the Captain. "There's a little boat adrift out yonder," answered Uncle John, pointing, "and the lookout says that there are a couple of bodies lving in it. There, do you see it, on 'the top of that wave?" I saw it; a mere shell it seemed, poised for fa moment on the top of a swell, and then (sliding down into the trough of the 6ea, quite out of sight. The long boat was soon 'lowered, and, guided by the cries of the lookout, made straight for the little boat. It seemed very loug before it was reached, and ithen wc saw the sailors make it fast to the long boat and begin to pull slowly back toward the Albatross. It was slow and bard work, towing tbat boat, small as it seemed, through the rather heavy sea. There was no sign of life m her. What was behind those low gunwales! What were the mm bringing to us? At length I they came alongside, and then ne saw that 'there were tn o bodies lying there. "A man and a woman, sir," called np the mate. "There's life in 'em both, but precious little," It was nice work getting the two boats along side and the bodies out of them and up to the deck; but it ias done by the aid of slings, tho woman being brought up first Uncle John by virtue of his proiession gave directions as to placing her on the deck, and then knelt by her eide. I stood aloof. Why had that woman come to us in midocean? What was it? Fate? "She is alive," cried Uncle John. "Captain, we must get her below at once." I glanced at the woman. Thick locks of matted black hair lay around a face on which the sun and wind and tho salt sea water had done fearful work. And yet those blackened and blistered features somehow had a familiar look. "Where bad I seen them? I could not telk Four sailors carried her below and I turned to look at her companion, who had been Ilaid on the deck. Uncle John just took time to grasp his wrist, and said: "He's alive, too," i then he dropped the limp hand and hurried l below. Always the way. Women first. This dying roan mignt get w bat attention he could. March 13. 1 lie sailor whom we rescued gains 'strength fast. He was able to talk a little to day. Briefly told, his story, as far as I got it, is that he was one of the crew of the Vulture, bound from England to India with army stores and arms, including a large consignment of powder. One day, he cannot say how many days ago, the ship( caught fire in the hold. There were frantic and unavailable efforts made to get at the flames and extinguish them; and then the order was given to flood the hold, but before it could be executed there was a tremendous roar, and the sailor knew nothing else until he found himself in the water cling ing to a fragment of the wreckage that strewed .the sea. The shfo bad been blown up and bad sunk at once. Not far from him floated one of the quarter boats apparently uninjured. He managed to swim to it and clambered in. There he was able to stand up and look around him. At first he could see no sign of life, but In another moment he heard a faint cry behind him, and turning saw a woman clinging to a broken spar, with a bit of broken board he paddled to herand got her into the boat. Like himself, she was unharmed, save by the awful shock and fright. He paddled around and around, but saw no further sign of life. Once a man's body rose near the boat; rose slowly; turned and sank again, and that was the last that they saw of the two scoro men that but a little moment before had been full of life and vigor. March 11 The sailor, whose name is Richard Jones, was able to crawl out on deck this morn ing. He completed his story. The young woman, he said, was the only passenger on the Vulture. He did not know her name. It had been talked among the crew bat sbe was going out to ber lover, an officer in the Indian army who had been wounded; that she would not wait for the regular East Indiaman, but had managed to secure passage on the Vulture. When she realized that she ana the sailor Jones were the only ones alive of all those that had been on the vanished ship; and tbat they were quite alone on the ocean, in a small boat without oars or sails, or food or drink, she cried a little and wrung ber hands and then be came very quiet. She took ber place in the bow, and there she sat., Jones sat in tho stern and paddled clear of the wreckage, and then using the piece of board for a rudder, kept the boat before the wind. Luckily there was very little sea. He thought that they were in the thick oi xnuiamcn. ana eo Kept gooa nope. He tried to encourage the yonng woman, bat she seemed to prefer silence, and so hekeptstilL Thus they drifted. The sen beat down upon their unprotected heads. Then th-xbegan to want for water. They did not tMakiujnoca of food as of water. Jones doesn't know how loDg they were adrift He doesn't know when the girl lost consciousness. He remembers that one day she moaned a lit tle and in the uUht ho thought that he heard her whispering to herself. He thought tbat she was praying perhaps. Then he began to lose consciousness, lie remembers seeing a beautifnl green field, with trees and a brook running through it He says that men suffer ing from thirst on the ocean often have such visions. He remembered nothing else until ho opened his eyes and saw me bending over him. April 2. It is more than two weeks since I wrote in my journal. I have been ill, a sort of low fever that kept me in my cabin. Nothing serious, Uncle John said, and so it has proved, except that I am very weak. Uncle has been kind, but most ot his time has been devoted to that woman. He says that it is a very interest ing case. She became conscious a few days ago, and has gained strength since. She will be on decs in a day or two, he thinks. I'm anx ious to see ber. I want to see if there really is anvthmg familiar in her face. It's fortunate for her that clothing of Mrs. Bavmona's is on board. She'd bo m a plight else. I asked Uncle John what her name was. Ho looked queer and said that he didn't know. Strange that he hasn't asked her. The sailor. Jones, seems quite recovered, and has taken bis place among the crew. We were rather short-handed and the captain was glad enough to havo him. He can be of service. But the woman can be notning but a trouble, to me at least for I must see her daily. 1 suppose. And yet I'm anxious to see her, too. This fever has lert me rather childish as well as weak. April 1 Thank God for these races to which I can talk, else I should go mad, I think. Could 3 ou read these words as they llowirom my pen, mother, you might well wonder whether I had not indeed cone mad. But I will be quite calm while I tell of what Fate, or Satan, or what ecr evil power it is, has done for me. I was sitting on tho deck this morning, still verv weak, when 1 heard footsteps benind me, and Uncle John's voice saying "Good morning, Ar thur." I turned and saw him standing near me, and leaning on his arm, Helen Bankinel I write these words calmly enonch now. Can you imagine what I felt when I saw her? I staggered to my feet muttered some incoher ent words, and would havo fallen bad not Uncle John sprang to my side and caught roe. "Why, what's the matter, Arthur? Calm your self, my boy. Is it possible that you know this young lady?" By a supreme effort of will, aided by the memory of that day when we last parted. I drew myself up and bowed and said that I had had the great honor or once knowing Miss Helen Rankine, and tbat 1 had had no idea that it was she we were fortunate enough to have rescued. Uncle looked at me in wonder as I said these words with sneering politeness. The girl looked at mo qnestioningly, but there was no shadow of recognition on her lace. "Then your name is Helen Rankine?" said Uncle John kindly, turning toward the girl and speaking as though to a little child. A troubled look passed over her face, and then she said quietly, "I do not know. I cannot remember." "Do you know this gentleman. Mr. Arthur Hartley?" be asked in the same kindly wav. Again the troubled look, an apparent effort to seize some elusive thought and then again the voice I knew so well, but now so unnatur ally calm: "I do not know him." My uncle gave his arm to Helen, and they walked the deck while I watched them. What did it mean, this failure of Helen to recognize me? Was 1 right in thinking the girl to be Helen Rankine. Yes; I couldnot be msstaken. That graceful walk, some of its old time spring and elasticity gone, to be sure, was the walk of Helen; the turn of the lovely neck; the-poe of the head were hers. Then the story of the sailor. Jones, the forecastle gossip that she was going out to India to join her soldier lover; how well it tallied with what sbe had told me on that fatal day when she spurned my proffered love. But 1 would not dwell more on tbat I will not now. I must force myself to forget, just for a little time, the past, that I may solve the mystery of the present My head throbs; my braimslnawhirk April 4. After writing this I threw myself into my berth and tried to think over clearly tbe strange occurrences of the day. I was aroused by Uncle John asking me if I felt well enough to take a turn with him on deck. I joined him at once, and we paced the deck without speaking. It was a lovely night and the stars ailed tbe heavens. At length Uncle John said: "Artnur, here's a very remarkable case. This poor girl has lost ber memory com pletely and no wonder, after her terrible suffer ings. She cannot remember an event tbat hap pened before she opened her eyes in the cabin below. She can talk well, reads readily, shows the breeding of a lady, but as far as tbe past is concerned she might as well be a week old baby. You say that ber name it Helen Rankine. Who is Helen Rankine? AVhere did j ou meet her?" Uncle John had never known why I was so ready to give np my dreams of artist life and join him in his Australia scheme. I told him the whole story of my infatuation for Helen, and her heartless perfldv. He listened intent ly. When I bad finished he said: "My boy, let me say one thing, first of all. On your own evidence, forming my opinion solely from what you have told me. I think that j ou have done a good girl injustice. I aon't believe that Helen Rankine coquetted with you. Like many a yonng fellow before you, you thought that tho frank friendliness of a yonne woman who looked upon you as a boy, thongh perhaps not your senior in years was encouragement to make love to her. She thought that you knew of her engagement, so she said, and felt a security that misled you. You are not the first lad that has had such an experience and cursed all women, and vowea that he'd never trust one again. I'll trot your children on my Knee yet Well, so much for the Helen of the past Now for tbe Helen of tbe present, for we may as well call her Helen as anything else." "iiutsneis Helen; Helen Rankine. I can swear it," I interrupted. "Well, welk So be it I confess it looks so. I have taken a physician's liberty, and exam ined her clothiag for marks. I find it marked H.B.'" "Isn't that proof enough?' I asked eagerly. "Yes: I dare say it is. Still there are other prls whose initials are 'H. R.' You and I ha e our task. It is to try and lead this girl back to the past The awful experiences and sufferings ot those days in the boat have affect ed her brain. Whether beyond cure or not I kLow not Now remember, Arthur," and Un cle John looked at me seriously, "remember, that even if this girl is the gir. you think has wronged you, in fact sbe is not the same girL She knows no more of yon than she knows of me, whom sbe never saw in her lite before. Another thing: if she is Helen Rankine sbe is engaged to Jonu Bruce. Perhaps she wears his ring on her finger. You and las gentlemen are bound to do what we can to deliver her to him as speedily as possible. And I pray God that we may see her meet him in her right mind, tho same free-hearted English girl that he is now dreaming of. I bowed my head, but conld not say a word. Is Uncle John right, and have I been a weak, blind fool of a boy, thinking that tho girl who was merely kind was encouraging me to love her? Ifecltuy face burn at the thought, I can't think clearly yet, but I see my duty. April 10 It I lacked proof of the girl's iden tity,! have itnow. Yesterday we sat together on the deck for hours, I trying gently to lead her back to the past Helen Rankine used to wear several valuable rings. Now she wears but one. "You have a pretty ring." I said, pointing to her band. Her hand! How white and dimpled it used to be. How I longed to catch it to my lips, to kiss the pretty rosy tipped fingers! Her hand! Now brown with wind and sun, but still dimpled and rosj-tlpped. Like a child she laid it in mine. "Yes," she said, "it is a pretty ring." "Where did you get it, Helen?" I asked. "I don't remember," she said quietly. "May I look at it?" I asked. "Oh, yes;" and she slipped it from her finger and laid it in my hand. "What are these letters engraved within?" I asked. "Are there letters there?" she said "I didn't know it So thero are. C. H. R. f rom j. B. What does tbat mean?" "Don't you know?" I asked. Oh, it was hard to see tbat calm face, to hear tbat calm voice. Better the blush and silent avowal of love,ci en for another, than tbat blank gaze. "No, I do not know what those letters mean," she answered. "Perhaps 'H. R." stands for your own name." said I. bhe smiled like a happv child. "Yes, yes. That must be it But the 'J. B.,' what do they stand for?" I hesitated: who wonld not? "Perhaps they stand for for John Bruce," I said slowly, looking her steadily in the eyes. She returned the gaze with the calm confi dence of a child. "Who is John Bruce?" she asked. 'T can't remember John Bruce." My heart gave a great leap, then sank like lead. Am I then such a villain that I rejoice at tbe thought that Helen Rankine has no memory of her lover? Where is the hate that I boasted of? It has gone. I could not live be fore tbe calm eyes of the girl by my side. But I had my duty to do. "John Bruce is in India, Helen." said L "Don't you remember? And you were going to him. and when you reached him you were to marry him. He loves you dearly, and you loTed him dearly. Can't you remember?" Tho troubled look came to th, dark eyes and ruffled the calm brow. A faint flush passed across the rich, warm cheeks. Tben. like a spoiled child, sbe shook her head and said: "No, no, no, no," with a little pat of the foot and not at the last "no." I do not know any thing about it at all, I do not know John Bruce, and of course I do not love him. How could 1? But I know you, Arthur, and I love you," and sbe laid her hand m mine with a nrettv smile. I wonder if I'm the same man tbat set sail on , tne Ainatross six snort weeks ago: a bo Arthur Hartley then was a mad, foolish boy. The Arthur Hartley now is a grave, serious man. I feel that years and years have passed, instead of weeks. How much I am changed let this prove. I held Helen's hand in mine and answered gently: "I am very glad you love me, Helen. I hope you will ever love me. I cer tainly love you dearly. I could not love a sister more." She smiled at this and patted mv hand, and then we sat, band in band, without speakingJ UUU1 UiB BIMUunB UCCJiCUCU UU U1D UCCJfc iua. iouuaToueeawucaiaiuyinougUHOi i late, dear mother: but you will never know it Tfou will neversoe these words. Ihad thought not to write in this book again, for I feel sure that it will never reach you; but 1 seem to be urged to keep some record of our eventful voyage. We aro lying becalmed far in the Southern Atlantic, so Captain Raymond says. An awful storm that drove us at its will, and before which it seemed possible for no ship to live has driven us here, far out of our coarse. For six days we havo been lying hero motionless. The storm tbat raged with such terrible fury seems to have exhausted all the winds of the heavens. I never knew anything more thoroughly de pressing than this calm. Even writing seems a task beyond me. But indeed I am not as strong as before the attack of fever. I do not seem to regain my strength. I had in mind to describe the storm. It is beyond my powers. We lost a long boat and a quantity of spars. Two sailors, one ot them Richard Jones, saved but to bo lost were washed overboard and never seen again. There is no change in Helen. She is apprently perfectly bappy. but it is tho happi ness of a contented and healthy child. Sbe takes much pleasure in being with me, and sits by tbe hour with her hand in mine, while I 'talk of the England that we have left and of the scenes of other aays. But nothing awakens the dormant memory. Uncle John has got back to his studies, and talks explosives to any one who will listen. May 21. I am sitting alone In tbe cabin writ ing. It is very lata. I hear tbe steps of the mate as ho paces tho deck. Tbe calm still holds us in its fearful clasp. Great God. what is to be tbe end of it all! There has been a break in the monotony of onr existence to-day. Uncle John got into a hot discussion witli Cap tain Raymond at the dinner table about tho enicacy or tne wonaenni explosive compouna. Tbe Captain seemed doubtful. Uncle John was for the instant angry. "I'll show you then." he said, and he rushed into the cabin wbero his boxes are stored and came out shortly with two tin cans, each hold ing something les than a pint He unscrewed the top of one. disclosing a brownish powder. "Take care," said tbe Captain, who seemed needlessly cautious and almost fearful. 'Why, I thought you said it was useless," said Uncle John with a laugh, "and yet you ire afraid of it Look here." He lighted a match and held It close to the powder. A dark smoke arose that instantlv extinguished the little flame, and floated off leaving a queer smell bo hind. That was all. "Perfeetlv harmless. Cantain." continued Uncle, who had now recovered,his usual good nature. "Perfectly harmless unless you wet it Tben look out" Tbe cook made a sort of dumpling for dinner, and a great lot of it remained. Uncle John took a mass of this dough, for it was little else, squeezed it until it was quite dry and molded it into a balk "Come with me," Le said, "and. Arthur, bring a plate oCthat dough with you." He took the cans and we followed him to the deck. There he carefully covered tho-ball of dough with the powder, and, going to the rail, threw it as far as be could out over the placid sea. As the ball struck the water there was a loud explosion and the spray was thrown high into tbe air. The crew, who had been hanging over the port rail forward, turned and rnshed over to see what was up. Uncle John made an other ball and threw it with like result "Ob, homy torpeters," growled one of the men, and they turned back to their former places. Unclo John, now evidently anxious to give us thorough proof of the value of his com pound, was for throwing more balls, when the boatswain, rolling aft, touched his hat and said to the Captain: "Please.sur.tbere's a big 6hark as has shewed his fin hoff the port bow, and if so be tbat the doctor '11 wait a bit with his torpeters, we'll show 'lmsome fun a oatchm' of it" "All right, bo'sun,"said the Captain, and we all went over to tho port ran. "There be is," said the Captain.pointlng) to a sharp black thing, tbat rising just abovt tbe water, was cutting quietly through it "Tbat is his fin,and there's a big shark under it or I'm much mistaken." The sailors bad got a large hook, and had baited it with a piece of salt beef, and made it fast to a stout line, with a chain tbat tbe fish couldn't bite off. This tempting morsel was flung overboard and as it fell with a splash into the water we saw tbo fin cut toward ir.and then disappear. The next instant there was a great tug at tbe rope. "Hurray! we've got 'ami" yelled the boat swain. "Walkaway with 'im now, my heart ies." A dozen sailors had manned the rope, and now started to drag the big fish out of the water. There was a tremendous pull, a great splashing and then the men tumbled in a beap on tbe deck, and the hook was jerked sharply over the rail. "Cuss tbe luck," growled the boatswain. "The 'ook didn't "old." Tbe taste ot salt beef evidently suited the sbark for he was soon right alongside, cruising back and forth, looking for more. Ave could see,hlni distinctly, and a tremendous fellow he was. Again the men baited tbe hook and dropped it overboard. We saw the big fish dart forward, turn on bis side and grab tbe bait with a sharp snap of his terrible jaws. Again the hook would not catch and the shark was waiting for more beef. Tbe men- were about to make a third attempt when Unclo John started. "Wait a bit, men," he said. Tve got a hook that will hold. Give me a piece of the meat" The men fell back and looked eagerly. The cook banded up a big chunk of meat "Wipe it as dry as jou can," said uncle, "and tie it firmly to the rope." When this was done he snrinkled the powder from the can carefully oer tbe meat; then he carried it cautiously to. tne ran. ine snariv was cruising oacx ana forth. Uncle lowered the mat slowly into the water right m front of the monster. He saw the bait and darted at it: ana then there was a tremendous report and the spray flew into our faces as we leaned over the rail. The next mo ment we saw the big fish floating motionless on the water. "Blessed if 'e 'asn't blowed 'is 'ead clean 'hoff," said tbe boatswain. It was so. Tbat terrible compound of Unclo John's bad needed only the impact of tbe shark's teeth to explode it with deadly effect Uncle looked perfectly happy. The effect on Helen was strange. For the first time since she had been with us she seemed to be angry. 'I think jou are very cruel." she said to Uncl John, "to kill that beautiful shark. He had not harmed you. I shall not lovo you any more." As she said this she stepped to my side and grasped my hand, as thongh she feared unclo and wanted my protection. The men heard her words and the effect was marked. Ihey had been in high good humor over tbe death of the sbark. the sailors' most dreaded enemy, but at these strange words they shrank away with gloomy faces, and I could hear mut tered curses and tbe words, "witch" and "she devil." That put an end to the good humor tbat for the first time in days seemed to per vade the becalmed vessel. Uncle John made one more "torpeter" with the little powder tbat remained in the open can. The other he carried to his cabin. When I left the deck just before beginning this writing the sailors were huadled together forward and eagerly talking, but very quietly. The sea was like a glass in which the stars of this strange southern sky were all mirrored. Again impelled by 1 know not what power, I come to my journal. For what strange eyes am I writing these wards. I doubt whether I shall have strength to pnt down the record tbat I feel ought to be put down. Perhaps the power that impels me to write at all will give me the needed strength. I have lost tbo reckoning of the days, but that matters not After WTiting tbe words with which my last entry closed I went to my cabin and was soon asleep. I was awakened by stealthy feet with out mv door, followed by sounds of a struggle on deck, two or three pistol shots, curses and groans and tbe trampling of feet, I jumped from my bunk, threw on some clothing and hurried out. The large cabin was in total darkness. I rushed to the companion way. As 1 stepped npon the deck I saw before me a struggling throng and then there was a crash and I knew no more for a time. I know now tnat I was Btrnck on the head by ono of the crow, who bad been watching for me. When I recovered consciousness l was lying bound hand and foot on the deck. It was early daylight I struggled to rise, but could not stir. I saw tbe crew carrying bag; and casks and clothing and lowering tbem over tbe side. Two or three forms lay on the deck, but I could not see who or what they were. I recognized the boat swain's voice giving orders. Ho asked if there was water enough and food, if the log and chronometer and compasses had been stowed away. It was all confusion and my brain seemed on fire, but I kriew tbat the crew were preparing to quit tbe ship. Where was Uncle John, where was Captain Raymond, and where was Helen? At this I again struggled and strove to rise, and the noise I made attracted the boatswain and be came to me. "You're fast enongh.my lad," said he,smiling grimly. "Best lie quiet and listen. Th' lads 'ave 'ad enough of this bediviled ship and tbe witch that 'as bediviled 'er. So we're goin' to slip onr cable and put hoff. Yon seem so fond o' the witch tbat we'll leave you with'er. She'll care for thee, never leaf," and be turned on his heel. I tried to speak but must have fainted with tho effort When I again became conscious I was still lying on the deck, but my bonds had been cut and I managed to stagger to myj feet I looked all around. Not a living being could I see. Just tben tbe sun came up and as his glowing disk showed above the quiet water I caught far away in tbe South a faint sparkle, and then saw two small dark spots that before my straining gaze disappeared. I donbt not that what I saw w ere the boats containing the crew of the Albatross. 1 turned and looked around tbe deck. Tbe forms that I had seen were no longer visible, but just aft of tbe wheel was a piece of canvas covering Something. I walked over feebly, for the blow tbat I had re ceived had shaken me badly, and lifted tbe canvas. There lay tbo dead bodies of my dear uncle and Captain Raymond and big First Mate Robinson. Like a man in a dream I covered tbem again, and again looked about tbe deck. Where was Helen? Not on the deck. Had the villains taken her with them? I mademyfeeble way below and went to Helen's cabin. The door was shut; I tried to open It It was locked. I examined the lock. The kev was in it, and on the outside. They had locked her in. .1 cau tiously turnea tne key, opened tne door and entered. There lay Helen, her dark hair streaming back over the pillow. One round round cheek rested softly on her Br it ro . brown dimpled hand;' the other bore a lovely flush. The halt-parted lips were like crimson rosebuds, and over her bosom her white night rote rose and fell gently. She Avas asleep. As I stood there she opened her eyes; When she saw me she smiled happily, and said in a sweet sleepy nroice: "Is it time to get up, Arthur? Why, how- pale you look. Are you ill V And she rose on one arm, and tbe smile faded away. "Yes, Helen." I sal, as steadily as I could; "It's time to get up. Come into the cabin as ?nickly as you can. I am not at all well.'' And left tbe little cabin still like a man in a dream. Helen soon joined me. I asked her if she bad slept well. She bad. Had she heard no unusual noises in the night? No, sbe bad not awakened once. So it was. Like a tired, healthy child, Helen had slept through all that awful tragedy. I shall not attempt to try and toll of the task I had in making her compre hend our awful situation. She did not compre hend it She wept bitterly when I told her of the three dead bodies on the. deck. She moaned over my "poor bruised head," and with gentle hands bathed and bound it up. Then she said that sho was hungry. We found the lockers in great confusion, but the crew had left food enough of one sort or another to satiffj our immediate needs. Th6re was an awful task before us, and I ex plained it to Helen. Wo must consign those dead bodies to tbe sea. Sbe shuddered at the thought, but, like an obedient child, tried to help me. How I managed to encase those si lent forms in canvas I hardly know, but I did, and got them to tho side of the ship. Then I got my prayer book and read the blessed burial service, while Helen looked on in troubled wonder. Then came the hardest task of all, bnt it was done, and the bodies, one after the other, fell with a great splash into the still sea. I had thought to bind heavy weights to the feet and they sank at once, and Helen and I were left qnito alone. I am writing this with great difficulty, for wo are dying. Dying of thirst Wby I write I do not know. There is no water on board. The sailors, after filling their casks from tho 'great casks in the bold, left the water running. When we sought to draw, there was not a drop lert There is a change coming over Helen. She sometimes looks at me strangely. She seems almost shy. I wonder what it is. J s memory coming back? Or has she learned that she is a woman and I a man? But sho is not for me. There is John Bruce, and I vowed to take ber safely to him, and I shall Mother, good 1 can't write more. I see that the end is tTpta tho writinir in the little water-soaked book became entirely illegible. Indeed the last few lines were very indistinct and showed the falling of mental and physical strength. I sat staring at the yellow page and then looked up at Judson. He was gazing intently at me. "Well, go on, go on," he said impatiently. "That's all," said L Ho seized the book from my hands, and turned the leaves feverishly. "Yes, yes. That is all. Wby, man, we're not much wiser than we were. We've got something, but we haven't solved the mystery of the headless skeletons." "No, nor are we likely to." said L "Not likely to? We must," said Judson, in a sharp, strained voice. He seemed to be -much excited. I looked at my watch. "It's Sunday morning," said I, "and luckily RntiHav " I thnnrht- Judson wouldn't be good for much in a trial after such an evening as 1 this. As for myself, 1 was urea ana nungry and I said so. "So am I," said Judson, dropping the excited air, but with an effort "Sit still a moment" He came back soon with a tray, on which were cold meat, and bread and butter, and crackers and Rocbefort cheese, and a bottle ot Macon Vleux "You evidently know what a hungry news paper man wants in tho middle of the night," said L "I know what a hungry lawyer wants," and he drew the cork. "Now," said be. after we had taken the edge off of our appetites and-were enjoying the Burgundy, "we must know tho rest of that storv." '""'Easier said than done." "Why so? Does it seem more difficult to get a message directly from Arthur Hartley than to get that journal from the bottom of the ocean? I do not think so. This night's ex perience has given me a confidence in the power of will over nature that nothing can shake. There is but one obstacle tbat stands in the way of our success. The woman whom you call the medium was thoroughly prostrated, as you saw. She seemed badly irlghtened. too. Sbe said tbat sbe had never had such an ex perience. That sbe felt tbat she could not lire through another. As she expressed it she felt that she bad been the battle ground where two great forces had met and contended. I soothed ber as best I could and sent ber home. I did not tell her that I thought that she was right sue was. one was tne unconscious medium through which will overcame the forces of nature. This evening sbe must be the medium through which in obedience to our will tbe spirit of Arthur Hartley shall speak with us." "Suppose she refuses?" "She will obey me, or rather my will," said Judson quietly. "It's merely a question of whether it is safe to subject ber to the ordeal. But as it will be nothing compared with that she has just been through I shall attempt it, if she is at all able to bear it I must have that mystery solved." I slept very late that morning and joined tbe family at tbe Sunday afternoon dinner; and then went with Judson to the library to smoke. "It's all right." he said, as soon as we were seated. "She will come this evening." "Will all those persons be hero?" I asked. "Oh, no. You and I and the woman only." It was 10 o'clock that evening when Judson entered the library, where I sat reading before the glowing grate, and said: "She's here. Come into the parlor." It was with more than ordinary emotions that I followed him. The medium was tbe only' person in the room. Tbe cabinet still stood where it had stood 24 hours before. She looked the picture of ill health. Great hollows were beneath the tired eyes, and she moved feebly. Sbe bowed gravely to me and entered the cab inet Judson turned tbe gas down low. "If you will remain entirely passive," he said softly, "1 think we shall get the communication without trouble." There was a calm confidence in his Voice, quite different from the intensity of his manner the night before. Wesatquietly for many minutes until I began to grow un easy. I tried to think of nothing with very poor success, but while I was making tbe effort strenuously there came from the cabinet a. clear, firm voice. Its tones were something like those in which the woman the night before had said: "What do yon wih?" but as tbe voice proceeded it took on a manlier tone, witn tnat inaescrioaoie accent mat we call "Enelish." These were the words: "Since you wish it 1 will finish the story of my life on earth. Listen: When I ceased writing in my book on the Albatross it was be cause I lost control of my pen, and of my mind as welk I managed to crawl to tbe deck. Helen was lying motionless in the shadow of the companion batch. I threw myself down by ber side. She pnt out her hand and grasped mine, and a flush crossed her face. I was too weak to speak, and thus band and band we lay for I don't know how long. Gradually 1 lost consciousness, perhaps in sleep. At all events my spirit was not free. The frail body still bad strength enough to retain it .1 was aroused by something dropping on my face. As conscious ness came back I sw that the sky had become overcast; that a cool breeze was blowing and tbat a gentle rain was falling. Helen was sit ting ereofand with parted lips drinking in the grateful rain laden air. I tried to rise but could not She was much stronger than I, and at my direction went below and brought blankets and clothes which she snread on the deck that they might catch the falling drops. Sbe seemed quito vigorous and already I felt my own strength coming back. Soon she was able to squeeze water from a blanket into a small can wbieh stood by the mast. We were in too great agony of thirst to think of small matters ot neatness. She offered the can to me. "Drink yourself, Helen," I said. "No," she answered, with a smile. "No, you need it most! And kneeling by my side sbe slipped her arm under my head and with her other hand held the water to my lips. "I drank eagerly. The draught was life to me. Never had water such strength-giving power. I hardly noticed tbat it left a queer taste upon my lips, x sat erect, iieien, witn her arm still around my neck, drank wbat re mained in the can. Then she looked me full in the face. There was a new expression in the lovely eyes; tbe old vague calm look had gone. A deep flush was on her brow as she spoke: "Arthur," she said, and there was a tremor in the rich,deep voice, "Arthur my memory has comeback. No, do not speak, but hear me. Tbe past all returned tbe night after that awful day when we burled those dead bodies in the sea. I now remember and understand all tbat Sou and the dear Doctor said to me. 1 remem er our parting in England; I remember John Bruce: Iremember why 1 set out for India so suddenly. I beard tbat ho was wounded. I thought duty called me. For I did not lovo him, Arthur. How could I? Ihad not seen him since we were children, and our fathers be trothed us. But, Arthur, a higher power than hate or love has given us to each other, and 1 can tell you, dear, that I love you. Oh, I lore you! My darling, my noble, faithful darling! Ob, Arthur. Arthurl" She threw herself upon my breast with burning face and streaming eyes. Tbe blood leaped through my veins. Bhe ralsedher sweet face, and our lips met for the first time. "There was an awfnl crash, and our freed spirits took their happy flight together. We bad drank from the can tbat had contained Uncle John's explosive. A little of the powder had clung to the can, floated on tbe water and adhered to our lips when we drank. The im pact of tbat first ecstatic kiss had exploded tbo compound and our bea,ds were blown from our shoulders. That'salL Good-bye.'' THE END. Copyrighted, 1889. All rights reserved. Interpolated in tbe Prayer. New Bedford Gszette.l A little tot, before tumbling into her nest the other night, offered her slumber prayer as follows: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Thee Lord my soul to keep, If I should die before I wake, il wouldn't die for a hundred dollars) pray the Lord mv soul to taka. ' COTOTS 0F"MB0PEr AwBeign-of Domesticity Supplanting the Ancient Splendor. BONNETS PKEFEERED TO CEOWKS. Eossia BtiU Blazes in -Her Boyol Dignity, the Empress' Attire DAZZLING ALL WHO BEHOLD HEB iwiurnir ron wis dispatch.! It is very curious, to note what a reign of domesticity seems to be coming over all the courts of Europe. Not the mock dairy style of Marie Antoinette, but the plain bacon-and-eggs-every-day-English which it is now considered so virtuous and proper for a sovereign te assume. It has become posi tively distasteful to the monarch:) themselves to keep up the ancient splendor which has always been a sign and symbol of their power they no longer talk of the divinity, that hedges them and in their desire to be thought "true hearts" lay their coronets on the top shelf of the cupboard. But isn't it a poetic fiction that the two cannot exist to gether. Is Tennyson to blame for all this? Mrs. Humphrey Ward complains of the leveling of the mountain tops in the great modern rise of the people, their study of sociology, their desire for general disinte gration which seems to have made all men mad. She fears a dreadful dead level of need for the future. It certainly seems as if royalty was bent on bringing itself into the shiny depths. Queen Victoria persistently clings to the rusty old bonnet that would disgrace a char-woman, although it some times seems us u it wouia enrage ine long suffering British public into saying: "You can't play queen if yon wont wear the crown. The royal grants would come freely if the crown-jewels were brought out occa sionally. The epoch of the working classes is slowly coming noble ladies opening millinery shops on Bond street and queens preferring bonnets to crowns. What an encourage ment to tradel The mountain peaks shine dimmer and dimmer, only the imperial summits of Russia still blaze in royal dignity. Perhaps if the Empress of Eussia had to make her own bonnets when a girl she got enough of the millinery trade then and really prefers crowns. BHE BEATS THElt ALL. There is no monarch in Europe who sur passes her in nfagnificence ot attire, which is semi-barbario in its goreeousness. and at the state balls she is literally a walking Golconda. The nearest approach to her splendor that has been witnessed in London was the attire of the Indian Princes who attended the Queen's jubilee. The Queen had driven through Piccadilly verypaleand stern, expecting every moment a mine to explode beneath her feet or a bomb a la Busse to be hurled from a house top, for there were whispers of socialistic threats, her body guaid of princely descendants looked like a river of gold winding through the darkmasses of the densely-packed crowd on either side with their uniforms glittering in the sun but suddenly a great cry of ad miration arose from the crowd. It was the carriages of the Indian Princes which had come insight, and now the river ot gold was changed to a river of diamonds, for they were literally covered from head to foot with jewels. As you nppioach the state drawing room of thePiincessDagmar, of Denmark, Em press of all the Bussias, you perceive that the doors thicrfly overlaid with gold are aiso incrusted with jewels, great emeralds uncut, amethysts, topaz and turquoise glit ter in the brilliantly lighted corridors. At the door you pause dazzled with the gleam of 30,000 candles set in crystal, and beneath them, before the golden throne, blazes the rbeautiful woman, sister to the Princess of Wales, who holds her own amidst all these splendors with the simple dignity of the Cinderella princess who made her own bon net in the little kingdom by the sea. Her robes are stiff .with diamonds and strands of priceless pearls, and their great pear-shaped pendants like a net-work nearly to her the with fall feet. Scarcely an inch of textile fabric can be seen, for the entire train is covered with embroidery in gold and pearls and'lined with Bussian sable. THE IMPEKIAL TREASUEES arc beyond calculation, but they are for nse and not merely kept as the curiosities ot a former age the great antique crowns with the finest rubies and diamonds in the world, the scepter with the wonderful Orloff dia mond in its head are brought out and used for different stato ceremonials, the people given a sight of them and at the royal ban quets the gold and jeweled plate is taken from the cabinets and spread for the feast. An American politician, once proudly showed me a pearl which he due from his goblet with a penknife when official position gave him entree to one of these scenes of splendor. Even the carriages and harness are covered with jewels. One room in the palace is entirely lined with amber, walls, ceilings, columns, doors, everything the lrieze, elaborately carved, being Boman arabesques in transparent am ber on an opaqne ground. The capitals of tbe pillars are inlaid with topaz. When the Czarina receives here she wears a dress of cloth of gold cof ered with gold embroidery, topaz and yellow diamonds. The Bussians adore jewels. The court ladies all have tbe most wonderful parures, while tbe 25 Grand Dukes with their splendid uniforms and foreign orders make a never to be forgotten spectacle with their splendid forms and blonde mustaches. The churches are all gold and jewels, in a sort of Graco-Byzantine mosaic. Their sacred portraitsi"re called icons. They are small miniatures of the Virgin and child set in frames of gold or Bilver so made that only the painted heads show while tbe out lines of the figures and draperies are traced in the gold and inlaid with jewels. Some are large and of priceless value, while others are as small, as a miniature locket. They descend as heirlooms in the family and are greatly venerated. The oldest having been painted by St. Lnke. Their quaintness has of late. made them much sought after in Paris as bric-a-brac. I remember turning to a Bussian lady at a reception in Paris, and not knowing what they were, not wishing to say something with a Bussian flavor, remarked: "I hear icons are becoming verv fashionable." "Fashionable!" she cried with horror "Mon Dieu! What will you desecrate next? Why, they are the sacred images we pray to." ALL BOTAL STYLE DEOPPED. The Czar and Czarina are now making their annual visit to her old home. There they drop all royal style. The Prince, and Princess of Wales, with their sons and daughters, join them. The King and Queen of Greece and their family. The King is brother to the Czarina and the Queen cousin to the Czar. They are just like any other family party, with their little gifts and surprises for each other. The Wales children bring all the new jokes, puzzles and mechanical toys from the London streets "pies in clover," etc.; from Athens will be brought some recently discovered antique, while the Bussian family have strange barbaric gifts which have been brought by caravans over the "Ural Mountains. The evening oi arrival they have a sort of Christmas tree party, when all the gifts are brought out, packages are opened and a family supper enjoyed. The Princess and Empress wear simple mffslin( dresses, and a belated traveler peering in at the window would only think it was an un usually happy and generous family party. The Princess of Wales is the taller and more reserved, but the listers resemble each other very closely, and both incline to the same style of neck dressing, arranged in terraces (they say that in tne case of the Princess, the broad band covers a scar, bnt court ladies who have seen her en deshabille declare thatthis is not. so. but it is worn Is 41 simply becauaa ka, knows ft MnM BA6flw band helps the lines" of '' her face rad sake. her neck longer. Age always begins to sow itself in the neck, you know). The last time that I saw the Princess at a state concert she was in mourning, with many diamond stars on her black'lace dress. On her neck she wore a band of velvet one inch wide, a - . . -, A edged with lace. On this was a row of magnificent diamonds, while above and be low were smaller rivieres, and below all was a very elaborates necklace of diamond fila gree. Neither the Emperor or the Empress of Bussia resemble their predecessors. She is a faithful wile of simple family tastes, while he is the only mler In Europe who Is a faithful husband. What a contrast to the great Catherine, who had 40 lovers at a time and squandered over a hundred millions of the people's money on them. She led her armies in person, astride of her horse like a man, directed all the affairs of" State with a giant's brain, was a woman of great physical power, yet for her lovers she liked dainty, PINK AND WHITE MEN of slender figure, and the most pronounced poetic type. Her reign was orfe of the most glorious periods Bussia has ever known. ' I wonder if this newspaper age makes any difference In the lives , of great peoplel What a mine of sensation Catherine would have furnished'the modern press! Perhaps the 'reason that great lives seem more flattened oat now is because people fear to be impulsive when every deed of the night will be flashed around the globe in the morning. Catherine wonld shoot a man dead in his tracks for offending her, or would seize the sword of a noble standing by and run him through at the steps or the throne, herself being splashed with his blood, v A glorious womanl The good old times! The Empress was betrothed to the Czar's brother, who died, when it was thought best to have the match continued by the present Emperor. The story of her arrival in St. Petersburg and her coronation is well known. She has wept for the dead, but she has been a good and faithful wife to the liv ing. The Czarina did not at all de sire to ascend the throne, but much preferred her domestic happiness. It isasald that she feels the weight of the court costumes a great drag npon herand often has a nervous attack after wearing them. She prefers the simple English styles and wears small cap-like bonnets; her favorite dresses are soft silks and muslins in delicate lilac, blue and gray. When Lady Bandolph Churchill went to Bussia with her pugnacious and pngnoesious little husband she was amazed at the splen dor of the court. She had been accustomed to think the court of England the grandest in the world, and to thank her stars for be ing in it. The lavishness and generosity of the Bussians delighted her and she returned loaded with splendid gifts. Catherine has always been a heroine ot hers and Bandy imagines he would like to whack the head from Mr. Gladstone and present it to Vic toria on a platter in the true ancient style bnt I mnsn't mix np English politics in a Bussian letter. Olive Westoh. A HOUSE FDLL.0F HOLES. Perforated o Its Old Maid Owners Conld Watch for Burglars. Srooklvn Eagle. 1 happened the other day to be at the Sixth avenue entrance to Greenwood Ceme tery and was surprised to find the old Delaplaine house still standing in Sixth avenue, near Twenty-fourth street. I re member the Delaplaine house years ago. There were two other similar houses on the shore line fronting the bay. The DelarP laine sisters, two old maids and a widow, were in the habit of visiting these houses daily long after their pecuniary interest in them had ceased. These ladies lived in the greatest seclusion in a house on Union street, near Hicks. No man was permitted to cross the threshold. The butcher and grocer boys wonld have to leave their pack' ages outside the door, and the goods would not be taken in until the boys had departed. The young people in the neighborhood' firmly believed the house was haunted, and queer stories were told of lights being seen in different parts of the house at all hours of the night. The Delaplaine sisters were fond of cats and had at least a score in the house with them. They were also afraid of burglars and took great precautions to prevent their entering the house. Each window and door had a burglar alarm. In the kitchen and dining room holes had been cut in the ceil ing, so that anyone on the floor above conld see all that was going on below. The same applied to tne top floors, so that the sisters Leonid tell what was transpiring on the floor below without descending the stairs. Lamps burned on each floor all night long and the playing of the kittens on the floor cansed fautastic shadows to be thrown ou the win dow curtains and created the belief that tbe house was haunted. The sisters have gone, however. The house has passed into other hands and has been remodeled, and, judg ing from the evidences of decay now going on in Sixth avenue premises, it will not be long before the name of Delaplaine will .cease' to be even a memory. POLITICIANS SHOULD MARRY. Success Often Crowns tb"o Man Who Has a ' Sensible Wife. In an interview with Colonel C. W. Wood cock, a Nashville American reporter asked if a politician ought to marry. "That is the very first thing he has got to do," was the reply. "No man can hope to fill one of the higher offices successfully without the aid of a wife. Take John A. Logan for instance. He was one of these good-hearted, clever sort of fellows, but he didn't know everything. His wife did. She was full of the social magnetism that attracts. She was up on every point ot diplomacy. Her information was thorough, broad and at ready command. Logan's po litical success was more his wife's doing than his own. Harrison is the same way. All that austerity of demeanor which char acterizes him in his official relations wears, off in his wife's presence and he becomes' the most genial of men. Blaine is an ex ception. He has the social attractiveness in himself. Yes, sir, the young politician must have a wife. She will save nim from more expenses than when he has only the expenses of one to pay, and besides she will prove bis best political ally in a thousand emergencies. MUSTN'T STDDI TOO EAELT. An Expert Oculist Snjs the Child's Eye Shouldn't be Used Much. Dr. Webster Pox, in the journal of the Franklin Institute, maintains that the ma jority of the blind people have lost their sight from want of proper care during in fancy, and that nurses or mothers who heed lessly expose an infant's eyes to the glare of the sun tor hours may be laying the lounda tion'of the most serious evils. He protests against permitting young children to use their eyes in study, and de clares that the eye is not strong enough for schoolwork nntil the age of 7 to 9. THEI RIDE OX AS OMIBDS. Much Ado la London Over Democratic Tendencies of Biff Bass. , From the Chlcaeo Trltmne.l ' The London society papers arc making much ado about the fact that three mem bers of Parliament, including a Cabinet Minister, were seen riding a penny 'bus recently. And then the startling tale is told of how Mr. Goschen rides home from the House of Commons nights in a cab rather than have his coachman kept out of bed. But all this is knocked into a cocked hat by the remembrance that before Lord Hals bury sat npon the wool sack he was gener ally a Monday morning passenger on tbe Euston omnibus, and that Mr. Gladstone. too, may freauently be seen on the "people's Oyn.... state coach.-!:SJ- ,- 1 . -"V'v-cii ?H 'mrvw lkffii(8 TrafMd feJtftt A LEFT-IA3BID mnm GUI'. Snkuhi Metis)' of Ctrls? ifcetaatiw. OfcM.k - - i - AKOlfHT WTSOIS'OP I5DIAK HATlTM rwHrrnar m thx dispatch;: .Nowhere in the Kefcrew literatare wW the specially Interested sttideat be rewarded with the discovery of "any references elaei- dating the subject Hflder coasideratieav But judging from Hwary passages in. tbe Bible it iee alaest asaared that the an cient Hebrews possessed, considerable skill in diverse manly achievements, mostly, of a warlike nature, although snch instruct ions are not recorded to have been imparted to the disciples in the public schools. In Judges, xx, 15, 16, we find tbat among the children of Benjamin, including the people of Gibeah, 790. picked men were trained left handed and se skilled in tbe nse of their sling that "erery one could sling stones at an hairbreadth and not miss." We all remember how it -pleased onr yoathlsl fancy when in the1 eevefiteeoth chapter of the first book of Samuel, we read how little David, single-handed and with his- simple sling and stone, "smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his fore head, and he fell upon Ms face to the earth." It is not probable that among the 27.000 or Benjamin's people the large number of 700 could have acquired single-handedness from their infancy. According to old Scotch tradition's the en tire male population of the Lowland Clan Kerr, orKer, was gifted with the left hand talent and consequently formidable foes to parry, bnt skill and perfection even aided by natural inclination, is never obtained without much patient devotion. PUBLIC GAMES. Notwithstanding the. aversion of the He brews for athletic contests, nerodes is said to have digressed from the common usage and introduced certain public games in honor of Emperor Augustas, resembling the Olympian, and produced eyeij fifth year in Jerusalem- A magnificent amphitheater 'was erected outside tbe city limits for this purpose, and the, games conducted with much pomp and splendor. Saul organized a strong army, and is said to have instigated manly exercises and competitions among his soldiers. Bnt gym nastic pastimes never gained such national popularity among the Hebrews as among the Greeks. That naive and happy satis faction with life and nature, characteristic of the latter, did not belong to the Hebrews, who, moreover, lacked the po litical liberty, which in Greece excited the national spirit to enthusiasm. Both their national character and philosophv disap proved of such pastimes and festivals, in no way connected with the worship of Jehovah. Dancing, however, seems to have played an important role in connection with cer tain religious festivities, and was probably otten the outcome of enthusiasm and holy ecstacy, as, for instance, when King David, bringing the ark from the house of Obededom "danced before the Lord with all his might." We are instructed by Moses that already when in the desert the people danced round tbe golden calf. That danc ing was not only a rite but also a social custom, we can glean from the First Book ot Samuel, xxi.,11, where it is related that the servants danced to the honor of David. It was prooably a custom with all classes. Among other Semitic people, Arabs, Baby lonians and Assyrians, we find equally meager material for the study odut sub ject. ATHLETES OF XETSIA. Susruta. who flourished 100 years before Christ, was the great authority of his time np6n all matters pertaining to health, but it is chiefly in the laws of Hanus that we find expressions indicating the therapeutical aim ot sundry exercises and practices. In the sixth book of that series bathing and certain respiratory movements are recommended for the "purification of the organism as the metal is purified by fire." M. Dally holds that in India respiratory exercises were ob served as part of the hygiene, similar to the manner of the Chinese, and also to that of the Greeks and Bomans. It one compares the remarks in the Law Book of Manns with the observations of Greek authors, for instance, "Mercnrialis of the Gymnastic Art," it is evident that the Brahmins were equally well acquainted with the methods and physiological concerns of the exercise ot the respiratory muscles and organs. It was considered that a practice of this kind expanded the chest, increased the tempera ture, invigorated the respiratory organs, softened the scin and opened the pores. One Grecian historian, Hegasthenes, al leges that among the Brahmins a class ex isted whose method of administering to dis ease was based upon dietetic precepts and external manipulations. M. Dally, in his Cinesiologi, refers to a system of therapeuti cal exercises which from the beginning was very simple, but became very intricate in the hands of the priests, who involved there in an abundaucy of mysticism, magical words and similar hocus-pocus to impress the multitude with an idea of the godly origin of the concern. At present time it is customary in India to apply active and passive motions, "kneeding, stroking and clapping," as an adjunct to other processes in THE PUBLIC BATH establishments. The body of the bathing visitor is kneaded like a dough from head to heel, or "shampooed" in Indian parlance, and the Europeans living in India avail themselves daily thereof. We find these various processes adopted in modern, after the ancient pattern adjusted baths. It ft certain that the Brahmins applied those and similar remedies for diseases re- quiring surgical treatment. In "Le Journal Medico-Chirurgicale" is found a descrip tion of special movements and manipula tions employed in cases of chronic rheu matism. Among, the ancient Indians physical edu cation wa3 solely confined to the soldier cast. In the law books were directions and pre cepts pertaining to methods of attaining the highest skill possible in military exploits, drill, pastimes and use of arms. Prepara tory training included manifold exercises and movements of limbs and body, accom plished with or without assistants and the nse of clubs and weights. Before these exer cises it was also customary to anoint the body with finely prepared mud from the Ganges, ac cording to minute prescriptions, imparting a taint of religious rite to the observance. Favorite pastimes were wrestling and fenc ing with saber, pole or staff. Tbe wrestlers clinched with their arms around each other's hodv. Foneinir with sword was not fratcht with much danger for the combatants, the weapons being protected by a leather pad at the point, a shield completing the equipment of the swordsman. Feucing with staff, usually a stoat bamboo pole, required both hands for the wielding of the instrument. ' Dancing entered as an important factor m ceremonies of an exclusively religions nature at great festivals, and was not confined to cer tain classes and casts. But neither in dance nor in tbe gymnastic art did the ancient In dians disclose a true taste for plastic grace and beauty. They were richly endowed with deep feelings and vivid imagination and conceived nature in a more symbolic and allegoric than ideal manner, but created no ideal beauty in anvthing except their poetry. Their physical culture was mostly void of tendency toward the esthetic. Ariel C. Hallbece. How the Yonnaster Knew. Cincinnati Times-Star. A bright little 4-year-old who fairly adores her papa and begins to look for his home-coming almost from the time he starts a wav, met him the other morning at the head of the stairs, and, as she threw her chubby arms 'about his neck and kissed him, she exlaimed: "I knew it was yon, papal" How did you know it was I dear?" 'Because," she replied. "I heard the Yoke voice of your footstens; irf- '-Q1 U nf-mvsuuUM: l a 1-(vmnWi$i 7K- TTpea the 7A 2. 9 wImm viae carreers Mm, NMfl A tetalleaat npea, his ear Apparency osteon. And BndBc ir a&d atewM Of pleasant shbs4ob s4as4r ewMS A trala of, mescal droftmo- And new he sinus of fey ofcfff When daily paths seetsed stf AnajiiewasuicetteHEy. Bnt in cadences ssft and W He dwells on ebaage aa4 -wiorngf Blend with the totaC sesc J 718 S9T7ASS PBOBLBM.,' r I have two scares of tbe mm stftitMfcl diyiled, like a beard at checkers, e iimwmI nnraberoissau sqsaree. laca of tstMjim bljrsquirei has more teas 30 aad Ias Mm JW news, iteraove eneaeMoatoxoeiVGBeoi ttttae two sauaresl Craasese ail the remaining Mas of both sauarM in mm sammb at ekftrcnt tirntt ' Wbat squares are tbeyf wW ate tbe niuti squares under tae sosae iioniBwmr a 719 A B-ARMBB'S COyPITJMBC. On the hoaxdag ot wealth Farssic: cent, It Is trulv the hateht of his lev: With thlsobject in view all mi yean spent Since he started a penniless boy. Byhnndreda.pytnoBsaBas.aadthoBsaaai toia. His estates may be counted np now; But all of his lands, aad his bosses aad nave been earned cy the sweat ot mi An inveterate scold Is Malta da, hla wile. Yet a moael of neatness withal; So sbe leads him abitter-sweet sort of a Through the winter, spring, soaraer One day from the field, where a-plowiaehVAl een. His boots with fresh mud covered He came to the,bouse and walked lefsaretr is xieaving nacits on tne ciean ititcaea i And in these words Mallnda her has' greet: "Yon doggondest of old tarsal fools.' You've dragged in more earth oayo clunisv feet Than would load down a couple of Whereat Felix, the farmer and lover c To his snonse thus locoselv DDeaIed:uRr r1 Sfw BftVAVatMrijJIg VIsHjHH asdWfjf 1 fl rauliwJLB BeH.3 "Pray tell me the difference betwixt 'aevmy - Ana what 1 brought in from tbe fleld."& -Jt e. W. bjlbk$3 720 nrVEETED PXEASOD. 'f ' Across: L Enacted. 2. Retaliation." (ObsC)- 3. To- rehearse. 4. The upright piece in framing. 5. To lay snares for rabbits. . 5. A letter. i Down: L. A letter. 2. An abbreviation. 3. A color, i. An exclamation expressive of sorrow, fit A station in which ship rides. 6. The lasso. 7. Kingdom of Europe. (BiJ.) 8. v Tbeposture of a thing. (Bare. 0. A dogfish. I ju, nui n era. ju. a letter. . , . -., B.O. CHXSTSBC 73 CHAEADE. In alt I dwelt a year or more. Upon the ocean's wave beat shore,,, I loved to sit and hear the roar Of waters from the wide, wide sea Come rushine in melodiously In never ceasing harmony.. " i Anon two primal I wonld try, . With natnre two three strain to Tlef, jL, But vain the effort; scarce could I it JZf f My own voice hear; so, spellbound, W4 withheld, as wise, my feeble sound.' i' To list to ocean's swell profound. 'q j Asfzbo. 722 DIAMOXD. ,y 1. A letter. 2. A Latin and Greek proposition signifying for. 3. Cuts off the ends of any thing. 4. Small apartments in the side of a room for depositing utensils or furniture. 5. To bow in humble reverence. & Laying flat. 7. Acting. 8. Expressine in particular. 0.uTo pain acutely. 10. One of the Siamese. twins; abbreviation of England. IL A letter. f Odkll Cycxonk. - i 723 DOUBLE LETXEE ESIOHA., In "bridle" that's new; In "carriage" in view; In "saddle" of blue; In "steed" that is true. Sleighridlng is a jolly thing; Tobocrzan. too. no donbt: A journey on tbe train wilt brlns; Some pleasantries about: But whole the whole expanse of earth, The flrsi part or your davs.' You'll And an equine last is worth Thrice the amount ot praise. v ALXS4 724 CTBTAHMTTST. r In sailor's parlance, to swell out; " 3 . In common terms, to push about, ri AS nornea animais on no y 1 cannot give a plainer ciew Curtailed will give a kind of cake Which hunerv children ne'er forsake.' EiTiXRSwiire.' 725 au-ageam:. Tame nags are not tbe kind that please " j Illustrious "nobles" and "grandees." UP NHSO:-Tl4l3 ' ixve I-KIZE3 run. asxiuiiuuf. ,- L An elezant edition of Shakespeare'sworkv gilt edges, beautifully bound. ixr 2. A useful Dictionary of Quotations, in sub stantial cloth binding. , ;jf$ 3. A miniature work of biography. , These prizes will be given for tbe best, three lota of answers to the puzzles published 'dar ing September. The solutions should be ''for warded weekly, and shonld not be withheld on account of seeming fewness. ANSTVEBS. 707 Tom-John. 70&- CONSO I O.TJBIit ORGAN I O All NEATE S T STERN ERA N OUT 8 I NA I NEWCOME OUTBIDDEN C OHtEOLBElfl 709 Slaughter, laughter. 7io jxe, euc 711 SITU fA llfEir x VO KEL kaWws OSIER JURAL JCIB E D V XI O H AT O If T WaIss isoBa' 712 Duck-hawk. 713 Verse, sever, serve. 711 Naughty Cal (nautl-cal). 715-Rope-walk. HAD K0 USE FOR MATCHES. A Crusty Old Fellow Meet His Match fat SV Yonthlnl Stranger. Washington Post.! j ,1 On one of the steamers coming np from river resort yesterday a yonng man with aik cigar between his fingers asked a crabbed. looking old chap for a match. "I don't nse matches, sir," said the old fellow, turning np his lip in disgust at the young man's cjgar. yonng man, quietly. "You look like a man who would make hia.wifa gefeWaidl i3"B3t It a Uk. I K3VWVKV MfsV.lE HBKv. JK KT 4 i i. I I . , v V ii&kzr-iML.