'-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.