THE MAN WHO FOUGHT WITH THE TENTH, IAX INCIDENT AT SANTIAGO.] In the quick-coming dusk of the tropical "One hour ago before me he stood, night, His voice was steady ami low ; What was it that barred the way? 'l'll And my regiment, now,' ho said, The colonel, walking the lines of the Tenth, 4 lf you'll give me leave to go. Stooped down where a soldier lay. * i « »i ,u« 1 * * ! *But lest ray captain should think I shirked, Dead he lay. but he guarded still T Wili you write him a line to say A paper in his right hand. I w ' th tho Teuth - UDller >' our oom_ i'" 1 " "y <■«>»««r , , T ». "Quickly I wrote (this paper would show •This is the man whose voice I heard He had done his soldierly part); In the thick of the battle today: Bllt )ltt i o j thought to lind him hero, 1 7MI '.? S 5 ° ly ,r i ep A ME -R ' ® r "l t , h T ° Nlnt , l ?' With a stray shot in his heart! 11l light with the Tenth, if I may !' "He served with us, with our dead lot him "Men were falling to right and left, rest. The bullets around us flew : And give him a comrade's place." I looked at him sharply ; he simply said, The man who had fought with the Tenth •My duty I'd like to do.' seemed to smile. As he lay with his upturned faco. " 'Be it so, I answered, 'serve with the Tenth'— They slipped the paper he never would need And he disappeared from sight. Into his hand again, They say hn fought with a gallant will; And the colonel passed slowly along the lines I saw Ir 110 more till tonight. To cheer his drooping men. —Edith M. Thomas, in New York Sun. t A STORY BY THE JUDGE. While several of tho old court wenchers were in the county court house in New York city, the other day, discussing a famous poisoniug case, the one called judge inquired: "Should a lawyer defend a mau charged with murder when he knows the man to be guilty?" This question led to tn animated discussion, which, after some two hours, was brought to an end by the judge suddenly exclaim ing: "Do you see that man?" The benchers turned their faces in ilie direction indicated by the speaker just in time to see a tall, lank man in shabby attire leave the building. Before a word was spoken by any jf the curious benchers the judge said, as though musing to himself, though in a tone loud enough for the others to hear: "Strange that I should see that man just at this moment and when we were discussing a question that he could have answered. His life, like mine, has been a failure, but thank God! ray regrets, though many, cau never be as bitter as his are. He ruined his career as a lawyer by de fending a man who had confessed that he was guilty of murder." "Tell us tho story," exclaimed the ane known as the proctor. "He was ruined," began the judge, "by his ambition." "Ambition, "suggested the solicitor, with a genial smile on his kindly, clean-shaven face, "is responsible for much good and much evil. It is am bition that has made wrecks, legal driftwood, of many of us. We have dreamed of great deeds in our profes sion, we have builded fairy castles in the air, while others have by hard work succeeded. I for one " "The story! the story!" exclaimed several of the benchers. The judge, thus urged, told his story: "Some 40 years ago it was that I entered the small courthouse in a email town in the western section of Sew Y'ork. Court was in session,and bhe hush that had fallen upon the •rowd in the room was oppressive. Nothing was heard at that time but khe ticking of the clock and the breath ing of the spectators. The presiding judge was lookiug up Rome legal ques tion in the law books before him. The rapt attention of the jurors and the eagerness of the counsel caused me to realize that a trial of more than ordi nary interest and importance was in progress. I asked a bystander what the cause on trial was. He gazed at me in surprise for a moment and then exclaimed: "You must be a stranger in these parts?" "'I am,' I replied. 'I have just some here from New York city to file a complaint in an action of ejectment.' " 'This,' replied my informant, 'is a murder trial,aud there,' he pointed in the direction I was to look,'is the man who will certainly hang.' looked at the prisoner at the aar. He was a good looking young fellow of about lio years of age. There was something in the expression of his pale face that convinced me of his guih. *Wliile the trial judge turned over after page of the law books I learned the details of the crime. "I learned that in his house on the outskirts of the town, one morning two mouths before the day of the trial, John Peterkin,a wealthy old man who had beeu, it was said, in the habit of keeping large sums of money in his house, was found murdered, shot in the back. Tho murdered man had been seated when he was shot, for his uhair was overturned just as he had fallen from it. Peterkin, who was about 67 years old, lived alone with his niece, a pretty girl about 18 years old. She it was who discovered the murder. When she had sufficiently re covered from her alarm, the niece, Mary Peterkin,aroused the neighbors. "At first it was thought that the motive of the crime had been robbery, but when the police discovered that the safe, the door of which was un locked and halfway open, contained 81750 and that the old man's watch bad not been taken, that theory had to be abandoned. For several days the case was a mystery. Theu it came to tho knowledge of tlie chief of police that Hasdall Benidder.the only sou of a widow, whose father had been post master of the little town, had beeu seen arouud the house and had spoken unkindly of old Peterkin. Benidder was arrested. "When I had learned this much," laid the judge, "the trial judge, whom we will call Blank, looked up from the legal books and said: 'I will admit the testimony objected to.' "While Judge Blank was reviewing the law questions I looked at Mary Teterkin. She was seated in the rear of the courtroom anil was an exceed ingly pretty young woman, the pallor of her refined face illuminated by large blue eyes. She was in deep mourn ing, which but enhanced her beauty. " 'Proceed,' exclaimed Judge Blank. "The witness on the stand—a police officer—then testified that he had found a small revolver with an ivory handle in some bushes just outside of the window of the room where the crime had beeu committed. " 'Were there any marks on that re volver?' asked Horace Dash, counsel for the prisoner—the man I just pointed out to you. " 'Yes,' replied the witness. m " 'What were the marks?' " 'The initials M. P.,' replied the witness. " 'Did you ascertain who owned that pistol?' asked Lawyer Dash. " 'l'es—Mary Peterkin.' "An exclamation of surpri»»» went around that little courtroom. Mary Peterkin started up in bewilderment and then fell back into her chair. " 'Silence in the courtroom!' ex claimed Judge Blank. "With a face paler than that of either the prisoner or the niece of the murdered man, Lawyer Horace Dash, counsel for the prisoner, said to the witness, '.Step down.' "The next witness called was a woman who had formerly been em ployed by old Peterkin as a house keeper. She was exceedingly nervous, and her voice trembled when she swore to tell the truth. There was a malignant expression on the face of the counsel for the prisoner when ho asked the witness: " 'Do you know Mary Peterkin?" " 'I do,' was the reply. " 'She is tho niece of the murdered man?' " 'She is,' replied the woman in a whisper. " 'You once lived with the dead man and his niece?' " 'I did.' " 'Did uncle and ever quar rel?' "'.Must I answer that?'asked the old woman, turning to .ludge Blank. " 'You must,' sternly replied the judge. "'Yes. They quarrelled,' faltered the wituess. " 'What about?' asked the counsel for the prisoner. " 'She—Mary—wanted to marry a man her uncle did not approve of.' "All eyes were turned toward Mary Peterkin, who, with an expression of horror on her face, sat crouched up in her chair. Everyone in that courtroom seemed to realize that the testimony already adduced against the prisoner at the bar was as nothing compared with that just brought out against the girl. The prisoner at the liar was pale and trembling and, I thought, an ob ject of abject misery. Theu the thought flashed across ray mind that he might be innocent. It was evident that Lawyer Dash was struggling with him self when he asked the next question. " 'Did you ever hear Miss Peterkin threaten her uncle?' " 'I heard her say once that she wished he was dead,' replied tlie wit ness. "With a moan of anguish Mary Peterkin fainted. The prisoner started forward and, despite the ert'orts of the bailiffs to restrain him, exclaimed: " 'This is a shame. I am guilty, and that man'—pointing his finger at Lawyer Horace Dash —'knows that 1" am.' " 'What does this mean?' asked Judge Blank,addressing the prisoner's counsel, who was leaning on tho table and seemed about to faint. " 'I don't know, your honor,' re plied the lawyer, who was seen to press his hand to his heart. " 'Let the trial proceed,' said Judge Blunk, 'and don't let that woman,' indicating Mary Peterkin, 'leave this room.' " 'Stop!' exclaimed the prisoner. 'I withdraw my plea of not guilty. lam guilty.' "For a moment silence, oppressive silence, reigned supreme. 1-inallythe judge said: 'Do you appreciate your position? That I can pass sentence of death on you?' " 'I do,' replied the prisoner, with a defiant look at his counsel, 'but 1 would like to say a few wo'ds.' " 'Proceed, sir,' said Judge Blank. " 'I committed the crime, your honor, but not from desire for gain. It was done in a moment of anger, just anger, and for the sak« of my dear old mother. Years ago my mother, so that she .might pay some debts I con tracted while in college, mortgaged her farm—the home where she was born, the home that she went to as a happy wife, the home where I was born—to old Peterkin. Each year since then she jai 1 to him usurious interest. Finally there came a day when he would not renew the mort gage. That was the day I killed him. I pleaded with him, but in vain. He insisted he would foreclose the mort gage. He called my mother a vile name. I saw the revolver on his desk, picked it up and aimed at him. He wheeled around in his chair toward his desk, and the bullet entered his buck.' "While he was telling this story the prisouer several times pressed his hand to his left side and moaned as if in pain. " 'Have you anything else to say?' asked Judge Blank. " 'l r es. I want to say,' explained the prisoner in gasping tones, 'that after I had retained that lawyer'— poiutiug to Horace Dash—'l told him I was guilty; that I wanted to plead guilty. He forbade my doing so—said it was a splendid case. He would ac quit me and cover himself with glory. He said he would ask no fee. I urged that I was guilty, but he said he could clear ma. I consented to the plea ol not guilty.' "Again the prisoner placed his haud to his heart and with an effort said: 'I could not save my life at the ex pense of an innocent person, and that person a woman. lam guilty.' "He sank back into a chair, and Judge Blank turned to Horace Dash, the prisoner's counsel, and asked: " 'What have you to say for your self?' " 'I did my duty—my plain duty,' said the lawyer. 'As I understand it, it is a lawyer's duly to defend his cli ent aud to acquit him as best he can " 'Not at the expense of an innocent person,' remarked Judge Blank. "'I maintain it is,' replied the lawyer. 'Although a prisoner may confess gtiiit he may be innocent. He might be insane when he confessed. He might be actuated by a desire to save, at the expense of his life, a guilty person. He might ' " 'I am guilty!' shouted the pris oner. 'I did it. I did it. I ' "He fell backward on the counsel's table, gasped and, after a few c mvnl sive movements, attempted to rise,fell back, twisted half arouud.and his soul passed to a higher tribunal. Judge Blank,after ascertaining that the pris oner at the bar was dead, said: 'I ac cept his plea of guilty.' " The teller of this story then added. "The man who so strangely passed be fore me today was the prisoner's law yer. He uever prospered at the bar. His career was ruined with the case which he hoped wcr.ld earn him fame." —L. P. C., in New York Eveuinp Sun. THE CAMBLER WINS ALWAYS. Klectri«*»l l>eviee for Winning at Dirt Reveale«l by im o<l<l Table. Among the battered flotsam and jet sam that has accumulated in a second hand store in New Orleans, says the Times-Democrat, is a shabby round table with a curious secret, and uo doubt a still more curious history. The top was once covered with green billiard cloth, which is worn to tatters and discloses a steel plate set in the centre and perhaps ten inches square. The whole top is loose and cau be re moved, revealing an interior space containing a horseshoe magnet wound with wire and connected with an arma ture very much like that of an ordi nary telegraph instrument. A close examination shows an insulated wire running down one of the legs to a small knob or button, protruding on the outside. When the top is in place the steel plate rests directly over the magnet. This strange device is explained clearly enough by its present owner. "It is a dice table," he said, "on which a lot of money has been won. When it was in order there was a good sized battery inside connected with the magnet. When the knob 011 the leg was pressed the current wus turned on, and that made the steel plate mag netic. The dice they used with it had small metal disks on one face, and as long as the current was on they natur ally fell that side down. When the knob was released they would fall any way they chanced to come, so all that was necessary for the operator to do was to keep his knee 011 1 lie button and he could absolutely control his play.' QUAINT AND CURIOUS. In Germany a clock has been made that is warranted togo for 9000 years. The yellow silk spider of Ceylon is perhaps the largest of his species. His average weight is nine ounces. Artificial legs and arms were in use in Egypt as early as B. C. 700. They were made by priests, who were the physiciaus of that early time. Only seventy years have elapsed since the first railway in the world was finished. During that compara tively brief period four hundred thou sand miles have been constructed. In this country placing the thumb to the nose and extending the fingers is a sia;n of derision. Among certain hill tribes in India it is the i»"*t ex pressive manner of showing <;ct. The first mode of public punish ment in New York city was the whip ping post, set up in 1635. Upou this offenders were hoisted up by the waist, and suspended for such length of time as their offense called for. Pekin, China, has a tower in which is hung a large bell cast in the fif teenth century, and another tower containing a lmse drum which is iu tended to be beaten in case a great danger should threaten the city. No one is allowed to enter these towers. Fish Commissioner Mcfluire of Oregon declares in his 1899 report that up to the present time salmon to the value of about $75,000,000 have been taken out of tha Columbia rivor. IMNHHHMIN9 | THE REALM 0F FAS HI°N. p NEW YORK CITY (Special).—Leaf green satin-faced cloth, effectively trimmed with applique of black satin folds in scoll design, with narrow soutache braiding, is illustrated in A STYLISH GOWN. ;his stylish gown. The draped vest and stock collar of crepe-de-chine are .n the palest robin's-egg blue tint. Several stylish features are embroid -31-ed in the unique shaping of the ;vaist, the scalloped fronts that join the shapely collar in shoulder seams jnd extend in fanciful epaulettes over the sleeves being new and attrative. Glove-iitting linings that clo3a in cen tre front support the outer portions of the waist proper. Upward-turning BEBTTYPE OP MIBBM' BHXBT WAIST. pleats deftly arrange the fnlnesa of the draped vest over a smooth plast ron, that is secured to the right front lining and closes over on the left. The stock collar is closed in centre back, the Medici collar flaring prettily around at the sides. The sleeves are stylishly gathered in the arm's-eye, the wrists having a slight rounded flare. A black satin ribbon crush belt is worn at the waist. The skirt has the clinging, eel-like tendency at the top that characterizes the new modes, flaring below the knees and falling in soft folds. It is shaped with a nar row front gore aud two wide circular portions, fitted at the top by small darts. Two backward-turning pleatp meet over the placket that is formed at the top of the centra back seam. Braided ornaments are used in clos ing. Extremely charming will this design be found for gowns of broad cloth, Venetian, poplin, velvet, satin, taffeta or the uew novelties now shown, chenille and silk, passementerie, ruched or frilled ribbon, lace or irreg ular insertion providing suitable gar niture. To make this waist for a woman of medium size will require one and one half yards of material forty-four inches wide. To make the skirt will require three aud one-half yards of same width material. Sliirt Walat For a Mias. The shirt waist of 1899 is charac terized by the yoke extending less over the front, the moderate fullness and shaping of the sleeve, less pouch at the waist line in front, and more elaborate neck decoration than ever seen before. In place of the simple linen' collar a stock with projecting flare portion at the top is ofttimes worn, and a very dressy eilect is given by ribbou passed twice around the neck and tied in a small bow with long ends at the front. Pink and white striped percale is daintily depicted in the large*, engraving with a stock tie of sea foam green taffeta ribbon. The fronts are gathered at neck, shoulder aud waist lines, the closing being made with stnds or buttons through buttonholes worked in the box plait that edges the right front. The back is laid in side plaits, three on each side turning to ward the center, and the yoke that forms the upper portion meets the top edge in a pretty curved point at the centre. The yoke extends far enough over the shoulders to bold the gath ered edges of the full fronts firmlv in position without detracting from tha Btylish shaping or the length of front that is necessary to a handsome figure. The fullness at the waist line may be regulated by a draw tape. The fashion able sleeves are gathered top and bot tom, link cuffs completing the wrists. The slashed openings are faced by over laps and narrowly hemmed or faced on the under side. Waists in this style may be of silk, flue woolen or wash fabrics, foulard, taffeta and Japanese silks, lawn, dimity, ging ham, plain and checked nainsook, pique and organdy being found among the newest materials. To make this shirt waist for a miss fourteen yearsoldwill require two and five-eighths yards of thirty-iuch ma terial. A Handsome Sliirt Waist. A pretty white shirt waist of lawn is n solid mass of narrow tucks back and front. The little flaring cuffs arc tucked and the sleeve is plain, except at the top, where there are a dozen 01 more tucks running across. The standing collar is tucked, and so is the turned-down collar, which forms lit tle lapels in front, allowing the tuck ing inside like a small, pointed vest. Some Prettr Trimmings. Fine nainsook embroideries with medallions of Jace introduced here and there add pretty variety to the season's trimmings. Irish point and Venice point effects are also prettily reproduced in the cotton embroider ies for trimming cotton summer gowns. I.awn Ruffle* For the Gownp. Lawn ruffles in white and pale coloi-3 can be bought all hemstitched ready for use, and if you want to make your white lawn gown especially chic, scallop all the ruffles in hand em broidery. Kiblions Much Sought After. Taffeta ribbons in checks and plaids always find a ready sale, and the dot ted styles are again sought after. Costume For a Girl. Light-gray cheviot trimmed with rows of narrow black braitl is shown in this graceful skirt, which is circular in shape, with seaui in centre back, The right front laps over the left, where the closing may be made, or the placket may be finished in centre back, if so preferred. The skirt is fitted with small darts at the top, which in ay be omitted, and the full ness held easy to the belt when sew ing. Two backward turning pleats meet over the centre seam in back, an d are held closely together by silk placket buttons, which are provided with cord loops for closing. The skirt may form part of justsue'i a costume as illustrated here, or b.i made separately to wear with fancy, silk or cotton shirt waists. Plain self-colored cloths are in good taste, cashmere, serge, cheviot, as well as pique and crash for midsummer GRACEFUL CIRCULAR SKIRT. wear, all being suitable materials for skirts in this style. To make this skirt for a miss four teen years old will require three and three-fourths yards of material forty four inches wide. A TEMPERANCE COLUMN, THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST IN MANY WAYS. Tlie Temperance Army—Drunkenness In France—Fear That the Whole Working Class Will Become Ifahltual Drunk ards—A Vigorous Teetotal Campaigu. The Philippine Isles are taken Bv Dewey, wise and brave, And we are In the army Our land from drink to save. While Sampson's on thfl lookout, With ready fleet and strong, We, too, are in the army To battle 'gainst the wrong. The Peril of France. Some time ago a Prenchmau compiled new statistics concerning the consumption of alcohol in the different countries of Eu rope. The statistician fouud himself com pelled to assign the somewhat doubtful honor of flrpt place on the list to his own countrymen, and, what is still worse, the "Grande Nation" was not closely followed by tho drinkers of whisky or sohnaps, but, ;o use a racing term, simply won in a can ter. When these statistics became gener ally known the first Impression in France was one of unbounded astonishment. Frenchmen had always been accustomed to look on drunkenness as a horrible vice es sentially peculiar to their neighbors across the Channel and across the Rhine. The feeling of astonishment soon gave way to sne of mingled panto and anger—panic on account of the future of the nation, and anger against the "mauvais patriots" who bad dare to tell bis fellow-countrymen an unpleasant truth. However, now the truth been recognized everything is to be done that can be done In order that the situation may be ameliorated. Wo have alreudy touched on one curious feature of tho Frenob teetotal campaign; the barracks have been placarded with pictures showing the results of drink, and a number, of medical men have started a special crusade against the evil. It ap pears that drunkenness in France has not been communicated to the people from nbove, that is to say, whereas in the labor ing classes the examples are unfortunately frequent, the oases of aloohollsm In the upper und middle classes have up to the 'present beon relatively rare. The statis tics before us show that the favorite bever age of the French workingman Is the horri ble concoction known as absinthe, and Its effects upon him are really disastrous. The harm done in England by the over-con sumption of whisky and by schnaps in Germany Is small compared to that done by absinthe in France. Dr. Laborde, of the Academy of Medicine, has affirmed in a brochure upon the subject his convicfion that, unless something is quickly done to remedy the present state of affairs, within a relatively small number of yeurs the whole of the working classes will have be come habitual drunkards. Special legisla tion on the subject has already beon pro posed, but as the "marchands de vlns" are exceptionally Influential electors, it is to be feared that the deputies will be slow to support any measures >likely to decrease the consumption of ulcohol in France. HogUili Authors and Abstinence, Waller, one of the liveliest and wittiest poets of the Restoration period, was an in flexible abstainer from all intoxicating liquors. Lord Byron confessed: "The effect of wine upon mo Is to make me gloomy— gloomy at the very moment it is taken; but it never makes me gay." De Qulncey wrote in eulogistic terms of the modern temperance movement: "It has attained, both ut home and abroad, a na tional range of grandeur." Doctor Samuel Johnson abstained for ;ousidorablo periods from Intoxicating drinks, with great advantage to his mind and feelings, and always absolutely con tended for the wisdom of this course. Lord Lytton wrote (in IS4G): "I agree in the muin in tlie principles of the temper ance society, and heartily wish it success, as having already done much good, and being calculated to do much more." Shakespeare, in several of his dramas, lepicts the misery of indulgence in strong drink, and puts into Cassio's mouth the celebrated words: "Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee—Devil!" Sir Isaac Newton, John Locke and Robert Boyle were exam pies of remarkable abstem iousness, amounting almost to total abstin ence from all intoxicating drinks. When composing his treatise upon Optics, Sir Isaac used only water as a beverage; and Locke, In his writings, strongly recom mended abstinence, especially in the physi cal training of the young. William Oobbett wrote: "In tho midst of i society where wino aud spirits are con sidered of more value than water, I have lived two years with ao other drink than water, except when I have found It con venient to obtuln milk. Not an hour's ill ness, not a headache for an hour, not the smallest ailment, not a restless night, not a drowsy morning have I known during those two famous years of my life." Evil Eflect or the Cocktail. If one goes to a dinner party of three or A banquet of three hundred, the first duty is held to be to pour a highly alcoholic •'cocktail'' into an empty stomach—an in sult to the digestive organs as brutal ae could b? offered them, und for three hours these poor structures are staffed with an excess of nitrogenous food and flooded with niuny kinds of acohollo mixtures un til in the early morning hours they are at last allowed some chance to repair their Injuries. But what an ldeu of nutrition and of life it all presupposes! If a visitor from some other planet should stumble on our fashionuble drinking habits he would surely be long in fathoming the mystery of why otherwise sensible and honest men make themselves such slaves to the drink lleni!. And what the result of it is we all see UDd know. The reliance upon alcohol once established in youth, the tyranny be comes all tho more furious in later years. A Champion's Testimony. A champion cj-ollst was asked: "Do you iver take spirits of any kind? I mean whiskey or brandy." "No;" they cut the breath short. Tou can't race and take brandy. It may help a little but it leaves you worse. I believe that if five or six men were together in a race, say two miles from the tape, and one was handed a drink of brandy. It might let him break away and win easily; but If he hail ten miles, or a long race before him, he would flnd great difficulty in riding. His breath would be cut -short. The man who drinks brandy or whiskey will soon be broken-winJed." "So you don't believe in brandy?" "No; it may help for a short spurt, but it is no good for a long run. Only a tem perance man can be a good racer."—Pacifla Ensign. The Crusade In Paragraphs. There are 3516 saloons in Missouri. The saloon was born of evil, but It exist? because good men tolerate it. Sixty thousand tons of corks aro used tor the bottled beer consumed in England. In January, 1887, there were in St. Louis 4067 saloons. This year finds that number reduced by statutory regulation to 2029, a decrease of 2038. The Missouri law pro hibits the adulteration of liquors. Belgium spends $242,600 a day on stTOng drinks. Confirmed drunkards are shamed into reformation in many of the towns of the Argentine Bepablio by being compelled to sweep;the streets for eight days each time U Ihey may be arrested for Intoxication. M The saloon club may appear harmless, but it Is a deadlv weapon. . .. _
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers