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
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