1 - : v. B, F. BOHWBIBS, THE OONBTITDTION-THE UNION AND THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE LAWS. VOL LII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. SEP! EMBER 21.1898. NO. 41 V EaNGIH) anshw I I -av "". TvY CHAPTER XI. "Luke TVillon wns a ran; seclruen of bit race, a money-loving Irishman. It waa the Haw Iu a very shrewd, far eeeinz intellect, but as vet iuJulcewe had-l"1 not developed it to that degree of inten- aitj which dulla perception in other di rections. A few tauten still remained to Dillon not quite dwarfed by the master passion, nuiong them a certain pleasure In his own keenness and such creature comforts as good food and drink. The circumstances of Mrs. Callander's death exercised him a good deal. He would have been rather disgusted to think that his task offered no greater difficulty than tracing a common seaman, a mere vulgar thief. For his own credit sake he hoped and expected to find a far deeper, subtler motive below the apparent simplicity of the crime. If he could find the sailor, the supposed murderer, and provtf him guilty, well and good, he would get a thousand pounds. If he could find a -more highly placed aesasaiu so much the better he should unearth Home disgraceful secret which It would be of the last importance to con ceal, even at the price of immunity to the n-tir-lerer. This would mean a heavy bribe to insure his own silence. Two thousand instead of one ay, more--with the possibility of retaining fee for many a year to cotne. With this idea Dillon applied all the force of his keen, and in some ways imaginative, mind first to In vent probabilities, and then to seek proof of them, for he had often discovered very unexpected proof while following the , accent of a false theory. Given a beautiful young woman, sepa rated by many a league from a husband considerably older than herself, what more likely than a lover? and given a lov er, the amount of guilt and cruelty, de ceit and treachery, deiended on the strength of passion, the difficulties and provocations of the position. "There must be a confidante somewhere," luused the detective as he strolled along the com mon the day after the funeral. "I wish I could find her if it is a "her I wish 1 could get a word with that Mr. Egerton." At this poiut in his meditations 1'illu: came upon a gentleman who was walking slowly along the beach, and had crossed j "How dare you suggest such fearful from the water's edge as if to mount I possibilities I" interrupted Dorothy, hard some sti-ps that led to the low embank- jy able to refrain from screaming aloud Dient. Dillon recogtrzed Egerton, and waited till he came near. "lVg your pardon, sir," he said, deferentially touching his hat. "I wanted a word or two with you." "Who are you?' asked Egerton, haughtily.- , t ' . :.. . - .. ' -"My uaine Is Dillon, and I am" In the employment of Mr. Standisb at present." "Ah I the detective," with a tinge of contempt in his tone. "Are you sent from Scotland Yard?" "No, sir, I am not in any service except that of the person who engages me tem porarily. I urn free to do as my employ er directs; to press on to full discovery or to hold my hand " "What do you want with me?" "I'd make bold to ask you a question or two, if I may, sir." "Go on. we can walk while I speak. What is it?' "They tell me you spoke to these men, the sailors who are suspected of the mur der. Now, I'd like to know what your opinion is." "I Lave none. They may have done it, but there are base scoundrels of every nation who'd stab their mothers for gold and jewels." ".May be so, but not their sweethearts, air." "What do you mean?" cried Egerton, his eyes lighting up angrily, while a deep flush passed over his. face, so deadly white It-fore. "Io you think this tragedy a tit subject for vulgar jests?" "Ileaven forbid, air" gravely. "But yo:i see rough men like me are not accus tomed to touch things gingerly aa gentle folks do. You see it's rather hard to hunt up men that may be innocent, and waste a lot of time and money into the bargain without looking round a bit for any other possible party." "I think it is all wasted time," said Egerton, passionately. "We'll never catch the real murderer, though I'd give all I possess to stand by aud see him die Inch by inch, under the grasp of a torturer, biit I don't want you or any like you to handle aud dissect the simple details of a life like There," stopping himself, "I am tolerably sure some bloodthirsty thief stole in and silenced her forever, some wrytch who will assuredly meet his pun ishment sooner or later, who is perhaps r'i'bMt is all I think about It! If you want money to prosecute your search, coihe to me there, take that and let me go. 'I don't want to seak to you again." He took out his purse aud put five or six aoveieigna iu Dillon's ready hand, then with, a gesture of infinite abhorrence tuniril from him and walked rapidly in the direction of the pier. "Oh! I'm too dirty to be touched, am I?" muttered the detective, looking after him with au unpleasant grin. "All the fitter to take the 'lilthy lucre.' " Drawing small leather bag from his pocket, he put the sovereigns into it; carefully twist ing the string round it he placed tie bag In his breast pocket, and, quickening his . .. , ... Tl ITn.r.11 pace, directed nis sieps 10 "There Is something wrong with you, iitlemon.'' he mused. "A man's not always so wild with grief about his friend's wife, unless he's not the sort or man though to stick a knife in a woman -unless he waa riled to that Faith, jealousy and revenge have brought finer gentlemen than you into ugly P1' Now let's sic what is to be done with the other one." . . Dorothv had forced herself to sit down stairs in "the drawing room that il to answer some of the many letters whicJi .. i - i h..r ..ince the dread- ful death of her sister hud been described , bv everv newspaper iu England ana vu abroad chietly hoping to exchange a lew words with Staudish as be came and went. . It seemed that long years had passed since she had written lettera in that room last; waa it not hideously soon to be clothed in her right rotod, and able to resume anything of her ordinary wfJ"8' Was life to go on just as usual without Mabel? How was Herbert to bear exist ence unless he could shake off something of the awful ailent grief which oppressed him? He was hardly master of hunselfl Then when Standish went away, how ap palling her loneliness would bel As he thought this, with ber elbow on the table, her cheek on her hand, voice, a strange voice, said: vw 1 beg jour pardon, miss." She started, and turning, recognized Dillon. .-, I heg your pardon, miss," he recated. thought Mr. Star-dish was here." nv wa. nere nan an nour ago, o:ki will return soon," she said, rising ajid W!dn earnestly at him; something in him replied her, yet she hud a curious wish to speak to him. "Thank yon, miss. I only wanted to ask him a question or two, and maybe you could answer them aa well." "Mr. Dillon, do you hope to gat any due?" "Well, miss, I may and I may not. There are many points to be considered. It's ail very well to offer reward and hunt Up thCje for Ign chaps, but If Just possible others may have a hand In It. Tilings look black enough, I grant, against those men, still " he stopped and looked down, aa if considering deep ly. "Still, In what other way can you pos sibly account for the horrible crime?" asked Dorothy. "As to accounting for it why, that't not to be thought of yet. Then you see there's a heap of crimes done from spite, and jealousy and revenge, besides the de sire to grab booty.; "There could be no such motives in this case," returned Dorothy, trying to speak calmly, while her heart beat with almost I pa iu fid violence at this corroboration of her own horrible suspicions. "Who could be Jealous of or wish to hurt my sister, who only lived among her own family and had no intimacies outside them?" "Well, I suppose that's true; but you know, miss, I am a stranger, and dou't know nothing of how you and she lived. Sometimes good, kind ladies manage to offend spiteful people who don't stop at trifles. If you could remember now that she scorned anyone, or turned her back on anyone, it might be a help, and of course you would like to bring the villain to justice!" He kept his small, searching eyes fixed on her while be spoke, noting how the swift blood mounted almost to her brow, and then left her paler than before; how her eyes avoided his, and she gvemed to shrink together. with terror. "You are thinking of wick ed, uncivilized people, not of English gen tlemen and ladies; these vile motives do not exist here and and you ought not to sieak of them to any one! Don't you see what frightful conclusions they point to? What crueUsonatructioa tn world we live in would ptrt Trpon them. You must not speak in that wax to ny oner' "Trust me," be returned, with a hide ously confidential air while he thought, "She knows more than she chooses to tell, there's a tile off the roof here some how." "I have kept many a curious story quiet before this," be said aloud. "If you trust me, miss, aud just tell me every little trifle such as, of course, you wouldn't speak out before a low, vulgar policeman who has neither discretion nor delicacy, I'll lay my hand on the miscreant or," with strong emphasis, "the real miscre ant's tooll" Dorothy was overwhelmed. How was it that this stranger, this common man, had evolved suspicions so like her own? What clue had he gained? How did he dare her bead swam. She dreaded to think what inculpatory morsel of writing, either from or to Egerton, might have fallen Into his bands; papers, notes, let ters were so easily mislaid, so dreadfully dangerous! She made a gallant effort to Dull herself together, for she felt he was trying to read her thoughts with hla sly, mean eyes. "I am so unnerved," she aald with sud den composure, "that everything fright ens me. Of course a man of your experi ence must know much that seems Impos sible to me. I can but hope your skill may bring the real felon to justue. To me, of course, It is clear that robbery and the fear of detection were the only motives for the crime that has robbed us of one so dear." A sob choked her words. Dillon stood respectfully silent. "She's a plucky one," thought the de tective, while he said aloud, "So, of course not miss; but I'll be careful all the same, and you may be sure I'll do my best to find out the real truth." He suddenly raised his eyes as be uttered the last words. Dorothy could not resist a shiver; there was, to her ear, a threat in his tone. "Now," he resumed when to Dorothy's delight the door opened to ad mit Standish, who came in quickly, say ing: "You here, Dillon?" He stopped beside Dorothy. "Yes. sir. I Just came iu, thinking you were here." "Well," returned Standish, somewha' impatiently. "Miss Wynn looks very much exhausted. The sooner we can leavs her to rest the better." While he spoke Dorothy, as if unconsciously, slip ped her arm through bis aud drew close to him, so that he felt the beating of her heart, the tremor that occasionally rac through her slight frame. "I am sorry 1 dfaturbed the young lady " With an abrupt bow and a satis fied ("smile the detsctlve left th m. thinking: "She could tell a good bit If hs chose. She was in a proper fright when I hinted at jealousy. I suspect I sailed pretty close to the wind. She does not want his high mightiness there to know what I was driving at. She spoke up pretty quick when I began about the bar. I fancy I have a fine job in bond. She is an uncommon pretty piece of goods. I would not mind her cuddling me un as she does that guardian. But a big bag of sovs. is worth all that moonshine. CHAPTER XII. Meantime Standish, looking kindly into Dorothy's eyes, exclaimed: "I was afraid that fellow's questions would only open your wounds; I wanted to be with you when he came. You are looking so pale and wrn, Dorothy! I must get you away from this." . . Dorothy withdrew her arm from his and sat down, beginning to put her paper and letters together. "I should be pleased, too. The sight of this room, of everything the recollectioo of our happy days is insupportable. "I have been consulting with Misi Oakeley. Mrs. Callander wanU you all to go to her bouse in London at least till you can settle in an abode of your own. Miss Oakeley proposes to take a house and reside with you Tn: ter at least. What do you think of this? She Is.kindand buxnan' i should like to be with Henrietta, but not with Mrs. Callander. You must save me from Mrs. Callander, Paul. "I will as far as I can, my dear child. Do you, know, she has Just gone In to pay her son an unexpected visit?" "Indeed!" cried Dorothy, dismayed. "I am sorry it will Irritate him, and he may wouno ner. His dislike to the idea of see ing her almost alarms me. It is so un natural, it is unlike him when he ia him self." "I Imagine that her unfriendly feeling to his sweet wife waa a source of annoy ance to him, and now she is gone he re sents it as he never would have done during her lifetime.'' Dorothy bent her head, but did not reply. "Then I have your permission to ar range so far your winter abode, at least, with Mkw Oakeley T' "Yes, dear Paul. Shall you be long away?" "As short a time as I can manage a month, perhaps. Indeed, I must come back to look after you and Ihe children, for poor Callander seems to shrink from me from us all. He told Egerton he would leave a power of attorney with his solicitors, and would lodge money for cur rent expenses In their hands as he want ed to stay a long time abroad. He will, nodoubt, return sooner than h -"cts. The first cruel keenness of his grief blunted, be will long to see his poor chil dren." Here a sound of voices and steps out side attracted their attention. The door was imrtly open, and Dorothy heard Mrs. Callander's voice sayiug very distinctly, "No; I shall leave at once. It is insup portable." Ikirotby looked interrogatively at Stan dish. "I would not go if I were you," he said, answering the glance. "She can come in here if she likes." In another minute the noise as of a carriage driving away was heard, and at the same time Miss Oakeley came in, looking rather scared. "Isn't it unfortunate?" she said, throw, tag herself Into a chair. "He would not allow her to stay or even to sit down." "Who? Herbert?" asked Dorothy. "Yes. When his mother went iu he stood up, looking perfectly awful, aud said, 'I did not ask you to come here.' " 'I know that,' she returned, quite sub dued, 'but I could not keep away. 1 louged to see you, my dear son to see ' " 'I may see you hereafter,' he said In such a strange, choked sort of voice. 'But here, while all is fresh, I will not. You were the one enemy she had on earth. You only distrusted and disliked her; you made her shrink from you, and I will neither see nor speak with you till heaven has given me grace to forjiivej "Poor Herbert." continued Miss Oake ley, weeping and wiping her eyes; "he was always a religious man. I was sorry for my aunt, too, poor old thing; I wanted her to come m here and sit down, but no, she was too hurt and offended. She has gone back, and I really think I must go after her." "Do, dear Henrietta. She waa cross and disagreeable, but this is a terrible punishment to be rejected by her own son!" .. ... "Yes, and Mr. Egerton was with me this morning and says Herbert does not wish the children to be with her. We must try and smooth him down." It b i relief to me that Egerton la going with Callander. This dreadful blow seems almost more than his brain can stand. Still, he was always just aud reasonable. Change of scene will, no doubt, restore his balance, and his ex traordinary antipathies will fade away," said Standish, thoughtfully. "I wish, I do wish you were going with Herbert," said Dorothy, wringing her hands in her earnestness. There was a note of anguish In her voice that struck Standish. "My dear Dorothy," he said seriously, "you have always been a sensible girl; you must not let yourself brood over Im aginary trouble now, when you have so terrible a grief to contend with; you will fritter away your strength, which has been sorely tried. Egerton la an excel lent companion for Callander. I do not understand your prejudice against him." "Nor I," added Miss Oakeley. "I am sure he has been like a brother to Her bert, only a great deal more brotherly than a. brother! now I must go to my aunt," and Henrietta, who, though truly sympathetic, was in a way exhilarated by having so much to do real work, too ( j'o be continued.) A Drummer. Haggard Hubert Can yer assist an old drummer, mum? Mrs. Chink Yes; It pains me to see a veteran needy. Here's a quarter. By the bye, were you at Ohancellorsville? Haggard Hubert Never, . lady. Ds bakln' powder concern I wuz drummln' fer kep' me alters In northern territory. Thauky, mum. 1h?ir Jokes. "Officer!" shouted an excited man to a policeman, "those fellows in that sa loon Just stood me on my bead and took every cent I had." "Thlm boys at Patsy's," was the of ficer's comment, as be moved on, "waa always great at Jokes." Cincinnati Enquirer. . , .. . u ..r i . i. t...ti,.c iu iiie eaiiy oij iwm- hut .....i--.-if that city wore heavy earrings thai (Halle IIM! fail ., i.ri:niin-. the lolfs. There were doctoi-s whose busi ness was chietly to heal ears thus in juiv.l. As a rule a six months' cruise decreases .. . . i r .. ...i :.. r. . .... ,,u..t 'I'Liti w Hie speeu iti if "ni v ' " " caused by the baruailes winch form on a ship's hull. -Russia is lullv alive lo Hie neces.-ny i.f iiiteioccaiiic canal communication. M e is .....- in eo:ii inc to connect I lie li.iltic aud Hl.ick ;seu Tomatoes have been grafted Umii po tatoes by a Fiench experimenter, win me hybrid plant produces tubers underground and tomatoes above. The Virriria liar Association has re commended that judicial robes be worn by the judges of the supreme court of the state. Tt Kansas fitv (Mo.) Times says; If this is not u war for revenge why should so inuiiy amateur brass bands be sent to Cuba. According to Nil-son, the zoologist, the weight if the tireeuluiid whale is lull . , lukll ...mlta.jIS Ikl Mlllril til tllilt llf eighty-eight elephants or 140 bears. The pictures or r.nsign roweii, who followed Hobson with the launch. luakt s him look like a Bryn ilawl- c'cllege gil l, but just now it is safer to juJge men by their looks. It has been ascertained that plate glass will make a more durable monu ment than the hardest granile. The Netherlands have r.'.OOil sqiiuro miles, lieing about the combined urea of Massachusetts and Connecticut.-.. Chinese streets are supposed to lie the narrowest in the world. Some of them are only eight feet wide. More than 500,000 sewing machines are made in this country annually, which is 90 per cent, of the production of the world. THE LOVE STORY : : : 2 : : OF mzaa IM the Baptist Orphan Asylum of a' snail town In Vermont Lizzie Mac ready was known as No. 6. The aame was particularly fittlDg for more reasons than one. Llzrle was the ysungest child In a family of six. Sbs was the sixth orphan who bad been ad mitted to the Institution In the sixth year of Its establishment Her father was a locomotive engineer on the Ver mont Central Baliway. Lizzie, the youngest chiid, was 6 years old wh 'u he was klBsal tn a collision, uad brought home a corpse to his little oneg. His eldest daughter bad been keeping house since the death of ber mother, and soon after the father's demise she married a section boss. The children were scattered among friends and rulatlveH. The boys had found good hemes and were all at work earn ing money, Lizzie was taken Into the orphanage, of which her aunt, a kindly, middle-aged woman, wa9 matron. Nybody objected to this arrangement, for Miss Sanders stood very high In the esteem of the townspeople, who thought it but right that the youngest child of the dead engineer should be cared for at the expense of the county, since all the others had not beconio burdens on their charity. Number Six grew up a likely girl amidst the orphans of the place, and now, at the age of Id, she was quite a help to her aunt, who still continued In charge of the county's waifs. All who had been there when she was a toddler were gone. The girls had sought ser vice with the townspeople, the boys were at work in the fields. Lizzie was taking upon ber young shoulders the cares which burdened the white-haired woman who had been a mother to her. At this time there was not an empty bed or cradle in the Institution. An open winter, something unusual In the rigorous climate of the Vermont hills, had depopulated the firesides and filled the graveyard. For years there had not been Infants In the home until this winter. Now there were two, a boy and a girl. .The former was the son of the schoolmaster. The girl was a poor washer woman' a child. Bud, the male Infant, waa robust enough and thrived 'as successfully among strangers as be had in his mother's arms, but Bee, the charwoman's infant daughter, needed a deal of attention. This little tujie of humanity had been christened "seat rice, to the great astonishment of ev erybody. A washerwoman calling her child Beatrice, was an unheard of thing among the plain people of the Vermont hills. Maggie, Mary or Annie, wagged the gossips, would have been more suitable. Mrs. Rosslter, the mother of little Be atrice, came to the Green Mountain town when her child was not quite a year old. She wore widow's weeds and informed those who asked after her antecedents that ber husband hud died a short time ago. leaving her In pov erty. He had been a good man, she explained, but a year's sickness had eaten up their little savings. This was Iu the summer of the year, and a few days before Christmas the mother was called away from little Bee, before she could Indicate what she wanted done with her child. After th6 burial of Mrs. Rosslter, the bal y was taken to the orphanage and placed In charge of Mis Sanders. From the first Lizzie Macready N-uniber Six took a violent fancy to the little one. Bee got all the coddling and fondling. She was such a wee thing; so dolicaie and frail. Big blue eyes gazed wist- fully out of a thin, pnle face, and there was a sad droop to the baby mouth, as If the child realized Its forlorn condi tion. For a time after Mrs. Rossiter's com- log to Water Hollow, the gossips In dulged In talk about the legitimacy of little Bee. All doubts were set aside, however, when the Public Admluistra- tor found In an old tin box anioug Mrs. Rossiter's effects two marriage cer tificates. One, the latest, protiou n ed her the wife of James Rosslter, whom she had wed six years before the baby wns born. The other was ten years older. It had been Issued by a minis ter In a small town of New York, and by It the woninn had become the wifu of a man named CorrelL. This was news. Indeed, to the deni zens of Water Hollow, and they at once speculated what had become of her first husband. By the time they had found something else to talk about Baby Bee was forgotten, so far as they were concerned. Slowly the little girl grew, tenderly carel for by Number Six, who had be come deeply attached to her, and could not endure to have her out of her sight. Several opportunities presented themselves for Bee's adoption, but Liz zie Macready objected. She could not bear to think of a separation from the little waif whose life, like hers, secinrd cast In lonely paths. But, there came a time when even Lizzie could no longer expect to retain control of Be BKK OOT ALL OK Till CODDL1NO. NUMBER SIX. a ecu Rosslter. A childless couple had come to summer at a neighboring resort In the Green Mountains, and while on their Journey visited the orphanage. They bad long ago decided to adopt a child, and a glance at little Bee satis fied them that she was just what they wanted. The bargain was made and It was. agreed that Bee should be sent to them a few days before their sum mer sojourn came to an end. From that time on Number Six was a changed being. She pined and fret ted, as the day drew near that would separate her from the little glrL and BEE WOUND HER ARMS ABOUND HIS HECK. Aunt Sanders was more than once com pelled to call in the house physician to administer to her niece. The girl, who bad tasted all the bit terness of an orphaned life, clung to the motherless child with all the vehemency of a first love. Night and day she prayed that something might Interfere to let her keep the girl a little longer. And the unexpected happened. A stranger alighted one day from the single-horse fly, which plied between the railway station and the best hotel In town. He was a handsome, prosperous-looking man. His clothes and the alligator bag Indicated that. He asked for the best room In the house and paid Cor It In advanced The morning after his arrival he set out for the parson age, and through the volubility of the minister's housekeeper. It soon leaked ut that he had come to inquire about Mrs. Rosslter. The parson took him 3rst to the little graveyard and showed him the mound beneath which the old rhar-woman lay buried. Then he ac- -ompanlcd him to the orphanage to see little Bee. Lizzie Macready was busy at a win low, when the stranger and the parson walked up the gravel path. The bronzed face of the former was aglow with excitement. Lizzie had never seen i more pleasing face, she thought. It was ii good, honest face, too, and when a moment later she was requested to bring little Bee to the reception-room, her heart throbbed wildly. Perhaps her prayer had been heard! The woman and the child entered the room, and the stranger came forward to greet them. He caught the little girl in his arms and kissed her. Bee, who had never before been caressed by a man, wound her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. A irood omen, thought Lizzie, and con fidingly shook the stranger's hand. Ttra minister Introduced the visitor as Mr. Correll, little Bee's half-brother, ills father, a wild, reckless fellow, bad left his wife. He had taken their child, i boy, with him. The boy was the man, who now stood before them. They had drifted to the mining camps jf Colorado and there Correll had i massed riches. A few months ago he lied, leaving everything to his son and imploring him to find his mother. This the son did. He had learned of bit mother's divorce and marriage to Ros siter, and of the birth of a baby girl. Their trail led to the little mountain town In Vermont, and here he found one In her grave, the other a public charge In au orphanage. Now he would take her away with him and spend his riches upon her. In a day or two h would be ready to depart. Lizzie Macready grew pale as death, when he announced his intention. The 'child, still nestling In his arms, held out her hand to her foster-mother. "Dear Number Six," she cried, "I can never leave you I" Sweet blushes crept In the girl's cheek at this avowal of affection on the part of the child. The stranger stopped and kissed her hand. "How can I ever thank you for what you have done for her!" For days Mr. Correll, the rich young miner, lingered In the little mountain town. Again the gossips got together, wondering what kept him In a place so devoid of attraction to people with money. There was nothing In the way of little Bee's departure. Surely that foolish young woman, Lizzie Mac . v "iild not again Interpose silly 'iijoetlons. Kvery day the stranger went to the "i ,:banage to spend hours with his llt :1a sister and her beloved Number Six, "or ho Insisted that Lizzie- Macrqady -liould accompany her charge on all their strolls through the garden. ' At last he Informed the landlord of the little hostelry that he would depart the next day. He ordered a four-seat carriage instead of the single fly to tske him to the station. "1 am not going alone this time," he said, with a happy smile. "Going to take the little girl with you, I see," answered the landlord, saying to ftmself that there would be one less for the county to feed. "Yes, and a wife!" continued CorrelL "A wife?" gasped the lankeeper. "Whew 414 you gt herr .. "Over at the orphanage. I am go:9g to be married In the morning to Llzftls Macready Number Six yen knowl" St. Louis Republic. INGENIOUS JAIL PRISONERS. Qaeer Thlaa. Made Without Ba Aid of the StmptMt Tools. Jailer Whitman, of the county jail, has on his desk a lamp which Is at oact a curiosity and a specimen of what a be done by a prisoner with scant mal ri. It was taken from the ceB of tw of ffci i"T-i last week, and la now on exhibition. The lamp is nearly as simple as thsj old Roman ones "omposed ef a floating wiek and a vessel of oil. In this case,! the receptacle for oil Is a whisky bottls about eight inches in height, of th shape favored by men who have busi ness tn prohibition towns, with a ca pacity of perhaps a quart. When found by the guards tt was filled with gaso line, a fact that would make its use ex ceedingly dancerona. The burner Ii composed of cork and part of a gai Jet The tip ef the Jet containing th slot-shaped opening for the escape of the gas has been removed, leaving a round hole In the end ef the Jet. A roaad hole had been made In the cork of the bottle -with knife, and Into this the Jet had been thrust, making a rudr but effective burner. Ia the manufacture of the wick, con siderable Ingenuity had been shown. It Is composed wholly of white twine, twisted Into strands, and these neatly braided together Into a round wick, as smooth and regular In appearance ati a braided sash cord. The wick runs through the Jet down Into the bottle. A number of plumbers bad been at work about the jail building Just be-! fore the lamp was found. It is sup-j posed that the gasoline In the bottle j was taken from their torches, while th I other materials had been picked up In odd places. The only motive for the manufacture of the lamp which the Jailer can assign is a restless longing for something to do, as the cells of all the prisoners are brilliantly lighted by electricity. Another article of prisoner manufac ture in Jailer Whitman's possession is a "billy," of which the butt or heavy end, usually filled with bird shot. Is packed with tightly rolled pieces of tin foil. Much of the smoking tobacco In common use ia packed in tinfoil, and this, the Jailer thinks. Is the source from whence It was obtained. The tin foil was pounded Into hard lumps, and makes a fair substitute for shot as lead for the billy. Its handle Is of cord, tightly woven, and it Is supposed that the leather cover Is from an old shoe. The whole makes a fair substitute for a regular billy, and might be used witk considerable effect as a weapon. In the penitentiaries many rnrhus ar ticles areAirnea'out by the convicts, but in the county Jail the absence of anything In the way of tools makes these specimens of prisoners' Ingenuity rather rare. Chicago Times-Herald. Immense Indian Temple. The largest heathen temple In the world Is at Serlngapatam (the city of Vishnu), in India. This Immense tem ple comprises a square, each side be ing a mile in length, and Inside of which are six other squares. The walls are twenty-five feet high and five feet thick, and the grand hall, in which the pilgrims assemble. Is supported by 1,000 pjllars. each cut from a single stone. There Is a very large and mag nificent Buddhist temple at Rangoon standing on a huge mound of two ter races, the upper one being 100 feet above the ground outside, and In ex tent 900x6S5 feet The underground temple of Kasli Is another temple, all excavated out of the solid rock so are the temples of Elephants. Diminutive Woman la Ohio. Miss Sally Podney, a 25-year-old worn an of Spring Valley, O., weighs only twenty-six pounds. Her height Is 3-t Inches. She Is fairly well educated, hav lug attended the district schools until she was past the school age. She has always rejected any proposition to ap pear before the public for gain, al though she could have realized a for tune by so. doing. P. T. Barnum, the showman, at one time offered her I large sum to travel with his show. Duuvhit Nol.r. Henshaw To me the merry prattlr of children la music. Tenbroeck Yes; but Ifser rather Wagnerian, don't you think? Philadel phia North American. "Bay Von Forgive Mel" A story is told by the Independent ai-out the late Rev. William M. Taylor, of New York, which illustrates bow heartily he obeyed the Master's words "Be reconciled to thy brother." It Is well known that he was a thor oughly conservative man In all his the ological views. At one of the meeting! of the Manhattan Association a youngei ministerial brother had read a paper in which certain views of inspiration wen expressed that did not at all meet his approval, and he said so In very em phatic and not wholly courteous lan guage. Immediately after the session came to a close. Dr. Taylor was asked to pray, which he did. As soon as he had finished his prayer he hurried as rap Idly as he could to catch the brothei whom be had criticised, and grasping him by the hand, said: "I beg your pardon for what I said; I beg your pardon for speaking ar harshly as I did." The brother was startled, perhaps a little confused, and began to say that he had taken no offense. "But say yon forgive me! Say yon forgive me!" aald Dr. Taylor. The as urance waa given, and Dr. Taylor's conscience and heart were relieved. Blae of Atlaattlo Poet. The captain of a big Atlantic liner, after many calculations, has come to the conduslen that the general size of a fog In the Atlantic la about thirty miles In diameter. Ship for the Japanese Heel Cross. The Japanese Red Cross society la go ing to build two vessels of 1,000 tens each for the use of patients ka time of war. Men are Rfce it pete; the tkey are the leas noise they oaJtift- SERMONS OF THE DAY Subject: "Onr Urn Time" How W Can Serre Our fleneration Our Kiponal bllllles Chiefly Willi the People Mut Abreast of Us Help Your Nelgbbois. Text: "David, after he had serve 1 his own generation by the will of God, fell on sleep." Acts xiii., 36. That is a text which has for a long time been running through my mind. Herinous have a time to be bora ai well as a time to die; a cradle as well as a grave. David, cowboy and stone sllnger, and lighter, and dramatist, and blank-verse writer, and prophet, did his best for the people of his time, and then went and laid down on the southern hill of Jerusalem in that sound slumber which nothing but an archnngelio blast can startle. "Dnvid, after he bad served his own generation by the will of Ood, (ell on sleep." It was his own gen eration that lie bad served; that is, the peo ple living at the time he lived. Aud have you ever thought that our responsibilities are chiefly with the people now walking abreast of us? There are about four genera tions to a century now, but in olden time, life was longer, and there was, perhaps, only one generation to a century. Taking these facts Into the cal culation, I make a rough guess, and say that there have been at least one hundred and eighty generations of the human family. With reference to them we have no responsibility. We cannot teach them, we cannot correct their mistakes, we cannot soothe their sorrows, we cttnnot heal their wounds. Their sepulchres ar. deaf and dumb to anything we might sav to them. The last regiment of that great army has passed out of sight. We might halloo as loud as wecoiild; not one of them would avert his bead to see what we wanted. I admit that I am in sympathy with the child whose father bad buddeuly died, and who In her little evening prayer wanted to continue to pray for ber father, although he had gone into heaven, and no more needed her prayers, and looking up into her mother's face, snid: "Oh, mother, I cannot leave him all out. Let me say, thank God that I had a good father once, so I can keep him in my prayerx." But the odo hundred ami eighty genera tions have pae-sed off. f'assott up. Passed down. Gone forever. Then there are gen erations to come after our earthly exis tence hasceat-ed. Weslmll not see them; we shall not hear any of th -lr voices; we will take no part iu their convocations,' their elections, their revolutions, their catastropliies, their triumphs. We will in no wise afreet the 180 generations gone or the lxo generations to come, except as from the giillecles of heaven the former generntioi s look down and rejoice at our victories, or ns we may, ov our oenavlor, start ii lliieuees, good or bad, that shall roll on through the advauciug ages. But our business is, like David, to serve our own generation, the people now living,' those wboe lungs now bnatbe, and whose hearts now beat. And, murk you, it is not a silent roeesion, but moving. It is a 'forced march" at twenty-four miles a day, each liourbeinif a mile. Goiug with that celerity, it has got to be a quick ser vice on our part, or no service at all. We not duly cannot teach the 1H0 generations past, an I will not see the 1HO generations to come, but this gtneration now on the stage will soon be off, and we ourselves will be off with them. Tje fact Is, that you and 1 will I ave to start very.soon for our work, or it will be iioaioal and sarcastic for anyone after our exit to say of us, as it was said of David, "After he hd served his own generation by the will of Uod, be fell on sleep." Well, now, let us look around earnestly, prayeriully, in a comiren-sonsn way, aud see what we can do for our own genera tion. First of all, let us see to it that, as far as we can, they have enough to eat. The human body is so constituted that three times a day the body n ieds food as much a? a lamp needs oil, as much as a locomotive needs fuel. To uie-tthis want God las girdled the earth wit'i apple orchards, orange groves, whest tlelds. and oceans full of tlsh, and prairies full of cat tle. And notwithstanding this, I will un dertake to tay that the vast m ijority of the human family are now suffering either for lack of food or the right kind of food; Our civilization is all askew, and God only can set it right. Many of the great est estates of to-day have been built out of the blood and bones of unrequited toil. In olden limes, for the building of forts and towers, the inhabitants of lspnh'in bad in contribute 70.000 skulls, and Bagdad t-O.Otu human skulls, and that number of people, were compelled to furnish the skulls. But these two contributions added together made only 160,000 skulls, while In tb. tower of the world's wealth auu pomp have I een wrought the skele tons of uncounted numbers of the half-fed populations of the earth millions of skulls. Don't sit down at vour table wi.h five or six course) of abundant' supply and think nothing of that family in the next street who would take any one of those five courses between soup and al mond nuts i.nd feel they were in Heaven. The lack nf the right kind of food is the cau-eof much of the drunkenness. After drinking what many of our grocers call coffee, sweetened with what manv cull' sugar, and eating what many of our butch ers call meat, aud chewing what many of our bakers call bread, many of the labor-, ing class feel so miserable they are tempted to put into their nasty pipes what the tobacconist calls tobacoo, or go into the drinking saloons for what the rum sellers call beer. Good coffee would do much in driving out bad rum. How can we serve our generation with enough to eat? By sitting down la em broidered slippers and lounging back iu an arm-chair, our mouth puckered up around a Havana of the best brand, and turougb clouds of luxuriant smoke reading about, pi btlcal economy and the philosophy o strikes? No, not By finding out who iii this city has been living on gristlo, and sending them a tenderloin beefsteak. Seek out some family, who through sicknes? or, conjunction of misfortunes have not enough to eat, and do for them what Christ did for the hungry multitudes of Asia Minor. inul-f tlplylng the loaves and the flsh.s. Let us quit the surfeiting of ourselves until we cannot choke down another crumb of cake, and begin the supplies of others' necessi ties. Ho lar from helping appease the world's hunger are those whom Isaiaii de scribes as grinding the faces of the poor. You have seen a farmer or a mechanic put a scythe or an axe on a grindstone, while some one was turning it round and rounl and the man holding the axe bore on it harder and narder.wLlle the water dropped from the grindstone and the edge of the axe from being round and dull, got keener and keener. So I have seen men who were put up ngainst the grindstone of hardship, and while one turned the crank, another would press the unfortunate harder down and harder down until he waa ground away thinner mid thinner his comforts thinner, his prospects thinner, and his face- thinner. And Isaiah shrieks out: "What mean ye, that ve grind the faces of tho poor?" It is an awful thing to be hungry. It is. an easy thinir for us to be In good humor, with all the world when we have no lack.: But let hunger take full possession of us, and we would i.ll turn into barbarians and cannibals and fiends. Suppose that some of the energy we are expending In useless and unavailing talk about the bread ques tion should be expended in merciful alle viations. I have read that tho Battlefield on which mora troops met than on any other in the world's history was the battle field of Lei psic 160,000 men under Na poleon, 251,000 men under Schwaraeberg. No, no! The greatest and most territlc battle Is now being fought all the world over. It is the battle for bread. The ground tone of the finest passage of one of the great musical masterpieces, tha artist says, was suggested to him by the cry of cne hungry populace of Vienna as the king rode through and they shouted, "Bread! Give us bread!" And all through the great harmonies of musical academy and cathedral I hear the pathos, the ground tone, the tragedy of uncounted multi tudes, who. with streaming eves and wan cheeks and broken hearts. In behalf of themselves and their families, are plead ing for bread. Let us take another look around and see how we may serve our generation. Let us see, as tar as possible, that they have enocgn te was". God looks upon the human race, and knows just how many in habitants the world has. The statistics of the world's population are carefully taken In civilized lnnds, and every few years officers 'of the government go through tho land and couut how many peo ple there are iu the United states or England, and great accuracy is roacliej. But when people tell us bow many Inhabit ants there are in Asia or Africa, at best it must be a wild guess. Yet God knows the exact number of people ou our planer, au 1 He has made enough apparel for each, anil If there be II ft een hundred million, fifteen thousand, fifteen hundred and fifteen peo ple, then there Is enough apparel for fif teen hundred million, fifteen thousand, fif teen hundred and fifteen. Not slouehy ap parel, not ragged apparel, not iusu ftleient apparel, but appropriate apparel. At least two suits foreverj' being on earth, a sum mer suit and a winter suit. A good pair of shoes for every living mortal. A good coat, a good bat, or a good bonnet, aud a ?ood sliuwl, aud a complete masculine or feminine out lit of apparel. A wardrobe for all nations, adapted to all climates, a"' not a string or a button or a pin or a nook or an eye wanting. But, alas! where are the good clothes for three-fourths of the- human race? Th. other one-fourth have appropriated thnm. The fact Is, there needs to be and will be, a redistribution. Not by anarchistic vio lence. It outlawry had its way, it would rend and tear and diminish, until. Instead of three-fourths of the world not properly attired, four-fifths would be in rags. I will let you know how the redistribution will take place. By generosity on the part of those who have a surplus, and Increased Industry on the part of those suffering from deficit. Not all, but the large majority of cases of poverty in this country ure a result of idleness or drunkenness, either on the part of the present sufferers or their ancestors. In most cases the rum jug Is the maelstrom that has swallowed down the livelihood of those who are in ra's. But things will change, and by generosity on the part of tbecrowded wardrobes, an I Industry and sobriety on the part of the empty wardrobes, there will be enough for all to wear. Again, let us look around and see how we may serve our generation. V hat short sighted mortals we would be if we were anxious to clothe and feed only the most InsigniOnant part of a man. namely, bis bod.y, while we put fori'i no effort to clothe and feed and save his soul. Time is a little piece broken off a great eternity. What are we doing for the sou Is of this present gener ation? Let me say it is a generation worth saving. Most magnificent men and women are in It. We make a great ado about the Improvements in navigation, and in locomo tion, aud in art and machinery. Weremark what wonders of teleirrap'i and telephono and thestethoscope. W.ia improvement Is electric light over a tallow caudle! But all these Improvements are insignillcaut com pared with the improvement in the human race. In olden times. once in a while, a great rind good man or woman would come up, ind the world has madeasreat fuss about it ever sine; but now they are so numer ous, we scarcely 8".eak about them. Wcout a halo about the people of the past, it I think if the times demanded them, it would Be found we have now living lu this year PWS fifty Martin Luthers, fifty George Washlngtons, fifty Lady Hantlngdons, lirty Elizabeth Frvs. During our Civil War more splendid warriors in North ami South (Fere developed in four years than the whole world developed In the previous twenty years. I challenge the 400 years before Christ to show me the equal of fharlty on a large scale of Georie I'ea body. This generation of men and women Is more worth saving than any one of the ISO generations that have passed off. Where shall we begin? With ourselves. That is the pillar from which we must start. Prescott, the blind historian, tells as how Pizarro saved his army for the right when they were about deserting him. With his sword he made a lone mark on the ground. He said: "My men, on the north side are desertion and death; on the south side Is victory; on the north side Panama and poverty; on the south side Peru with all its riches. Choose for your selves; for my part I go to the south." -Stepping across the lino one by one his troops followed, and finally his whole army. How to get saved? Be willing to accept Christ, and then accept Him Instantaue ously and forever. Got on the rock tlrst, and then you will be able to help others upon the same rock. Men ami women have been saved quicker than I have been talk ing about It. What! Without a prayer? Yes. What! Without time to deliberately think It over? Yes. What! Without tear? Yes, believe. That Is all. Believe what? That Jesus died to save you from sin and death and Hell. Will you? Do you? You have. Something makes me think you have. Newligbt has come Into vourcouutenaiices. Welcome! welcome! Hail! Haii! Saved yourselves, how are you to save others? By testimony. Tell It to your family. Tell it to your business associates. Tell it every where. We will successfully preach uo more religion, and will successfully talk no more religion than we ourselves have. The most of that which you do to benefit the souls of this generation you will effect through your own behavior. Go wrong, and that will Induce others to go wrong. Go right, and that will In duce others to go right. When the great Centennial Exhibition was being held ,in Philadelphia the question came u;i among the directors as to whether they tihould keep the exposition open on Su Hays, wheu a director, who was a man ( the world from Nevada arose and said, his Jroice trembling with emotion, and tears running down bischeeks: "I feel like a re turned prodigal. Twenty years ago I went West and into a region where we had no Sabbath, but to-Jay old memories come back to me, and I remember what my glori fied mothpr taught me about keeping Sun day, and I seem to hear hor voice again and feci as I did when every evening I knelt by her side in prayer. Gentlemen, I vote for the observance of the Christiau Sabbath," and be carried everything by storm, aud when the question was. put, "Shall we open the exhibition on the Sab bath?" It was almost unanimous, "No." "No." What one man cau do If he do.is right, boldly right, emphatically riglitl I confess to you that my one wish Is to serve this generation, not to antagonize it, not to damage It, not to rule It, but to serve it. I would like to do something toward helping unstrap Its load, to stop its tears, to balsam Its w.unds, and to Induce It to put toot on the upward road that has as its terminus acclamation rapturous and gates pearline, and garlands ama ranthine, and fountains rainbowed, and dominions enthroned aud coronet ed. for I cannot forget that lullaby in the closing words of my text: "David after he had served his own generation by the will of GoJ, fell on sleep." What a lovely sleep it was. Unllllal Absalom did not tr luble it. Ambi tious Adonljah did not worry it. Persecut ing Saul did not barrow it. Exile did not till It with nightmare. Since a red-headed boy amid his father's flocks at night, lie had not had such a good sleep. At seven ty years of age he laid down to it. He had bad many a troubled sleep, as in the cav erns of Adullam, or In the palace at Hie time bis enemies were attempting his cap ture. But this was a peaceful sleep, a calm sleep, a restfu' sleep, a giorion -sleep. "After he had served bis generation by the Will of God, he fell on sleep." The in'eiinr of a gold bear'ng rock was inspect i ir. niiirvgn town by means f the Roe itgen r;iys, and veins of auri ferous me .lis were rdjinly visible is if they were on the surface. Two c reinnnles 'n Hiirinah mark when chillli'sal slops and in'iiihood or womanhool begins. The boys have their legs tattoo vl in hrilli-iut blue and red patterns, arid the girls their ears bored. There have been 71.000 deaths from plague in India so f.ir, uccording to a recent rep rt by the secretary for India to Parliament. 0:..t:jla aov tl.,t II. a ml. ..I., 1. ..., body is full of microbes, and that a person is healthy long as I ho microbes are in good condition. -Siberl- Ins a popula'toiiof 5,727.000, of which 2.'CI.00 are mule and i,T7J,000 females. The population of Central Asia was deter nined ut 7,7.'1.ihio, of which 4,158,000 art! males and a.ali'J.iHiO female. A coll-'clion of lift tellers wrillen by CharlesDickens to various correspondent's was sold iu London lately for t74'i. . i 1 --e . Vw-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers