EUGENE ARAM'S LIFE.
The Remarkable Career of This
Famous Murderer.
A SCHOLAR AND A SCOUNDREL
Tho Hero of Bulwer's Novel and
Hood's Poem Was Really a Vile
Criminal Who Abandoned Wife and
Children and Knew No Remorse.
Eugene Aram, the scholar and mur
derer who inspired two of tho master
pieces of English literature nood's
poem and Bnlwer's novel —was hanged
on Aug. C, 175 G.
Aram was born in 1704 In York
shire. By the time he was fourteen
years old he was regarded in the neigh
borhood as a prodigy of learning. His
fame for piety and gentleness as a
scholar spread, and as a result he was
Invited to Knaresborough to open a
school in 1734. There a strange de
velopment took place in Aram's char
acter. He formed an association with
a drinking, turbulent crowd of men,
the opposite of himself, among them
Daniel Clark, who kept a little cob
bler's shop, and Richard Houseman, a
flax dresser.
In 1745 Clark married a woman with
a small fortune of SI,OOO. Immediately
ho and his companions devised a
scheme to rob her and her friends.
Clark was to obtain all the goods he
could on credit and hand them over to
Aram and Houseman, who were to de
posit them in a safe place. Then after
3ecurlng the plunder Clark was to de
camp, leaving his wife to shift for her
self, and the property was to be sold
and divided among the three men.
Clark went about procuring a wide
variety of articles on credit. He pre
tended ho was about to give a great j
wedding feast and borrowed silver j
tankards, salvers, spoons, etc., from
whoever would lend them. As fast i
as the differeut articles wore obtained j
Clark, accompanied by Aram and I
Houseman, carried them to a place j
called St. Robert's cave.
When Clark had "borrowed" about j
everything valuable his acquaintances |
had to lend, the plotters decided it was
time for him to disappear. So in the j
ourly mornlnj* of Feb. 8, 1745, he, i
Aram and Houseman went to the cave
to divide the spoils before Clark left. '
Aram and Clark had quarreled a good j
deal during the progress of predatory '
operations. At the entrance to the
cave the quarrel was renewed, and
Aram pushed Clark away and rained I
down tremendous blows on ills head [
and chest Clark fell dead.
Houseman, terrified at the sight and,
as he said, afraid of meeting the same
fate, turned and ran away. Aram did
not show a particle of remorse or fear,
lie gathered up the boot}* and carried
it to his house, where he buried part of
it in the garden. He buried Clark's
body and heaped stones over tho grave.
In the afternoon he went for House
man and threatened him if lie disclosed
the murder and made him believe be \
was equally guilty in law.
Clark's disappearance was not no
ticed for a day or two. Then the peo
ple from whom he had "borrowed"
Jewelry and plate began to make in
quiries. Suspicion was directed to
Aram in some way. Tho village au- j
thorfties searched his house and found j
a bundle containing battered plate and |
clothing stained with blood. Notwith
standing this, no action seems to have j
been taken by the authorities, nor was !
it suspected that Clark had been tnur- |
dered. The neighbors began to jeer at
the learned schoolmaster, however, and
Aram suddenly left his wife and chil
dren and walked to London.
For fourteen years his family heard :
nothing of him. no spent the greater ]
part of the time wandering about from !
place to place, at last finding a situa
tion as usher in a school at I.ynn. In
June, 1758, a horse dealer who had
known him in Knaresborough met blm '
in the I.ynn market. Aram denied his J
identity. By a singular coincidence, |
almost the day the horse dealer accost- J
ed the now gray haired schoolteacher,
a skeleton was found by some work- j
men digging a pit in Thistle hill, in i
Knaresborough.
A country town lins a keen recollec
tion of everything that has occurred ;
to disturb it, and immediately the dls- j
appearance of Clark fourteen years
before was remembered. Houseman !
still alive, got drunk first and then j
Joined the crowd of villagers looking |
at the exhumed skeleton. "Clark," he
salfl with drunken gravity, "was never !
buried here."
Tho latter, still too drunk to realize
the gravity of his position, muttered
that Clark's body would be found in St.
Robert's cave. The crowd made a
rush for that place, and soon a skele
ton was exhumed.
"I did not kill him!" gasped House
man, now thoroughly solter and terri
fied. "It was Aram. I had no part."
Houseman was taken to the village
jail, and a warrant was sworn out for
Aram, When the officers took him j
away from the school the pupils cried
The government used Houseman as a
witness to convict Aram. The latter's
speech in his own defense has come
down complete—a masterly attack on
circumstantial evidence, showing the
intellectual power of the man. Aram
made a half confession the night be- j
fore his execution, followed by an at
tempt at suicide. According to the
custom of the time, his body was
hanged in chains, and it swung in
Knaresborough forest until 1778. Years
later, when the details of his crime
were dim, his remarkable career at- I
tracted Hood and Bulwer, and thus the
obscure, talented, perverted man be
came a part of English literature.—
Exchange.
Bewareffthe French "Tabae."
A suggestion: If you are a smoker
and are golnfrto tour France take your
own tobacco and pipe or cigars, for no
American can smoke the "tabac" sold
In France. Cigars are unobtainable
outside the large cities, and the smok
ing tobacco is of International quality—
you smoke It In one country and smell
It In another.—Outing Magazine.
Popping the Question.
"Hello!" said the corn. "Was that
you whispering?"
"Yes." replied the wind. "I've been
trying to catch your ear for some
time."—Bohemian Magazine.
ITALIAN CRIME STUDY
Brooklyn Man Will Investigate
the Mafia In Italy.
NATIVE HAUNTS TO BE VISITED
District Attorney J. F. Clarke Will
Spend Two Months With an Expert
Investigating Black Hand Sources.
Inquiry as to Effectiveness of an
American Secret Police.
John F. Clarke of Brooklyn, district
attorney of Kings county, N. Y., and
his Italian expert, F. L. Corrao, who
recently sailed for Italy on what is
primarily to be a pleasure trip, but
which they hope will prove of advan
tage to the public, will be gone for
two months and during that time will
study the operations of the Italian
courts and police, particularly the way
they handle that peculiar kind of crime
hysteria known as the Black Hand and
Mafia. Incidentally they will conduct
investigations to learn how General
Bingham's plan for a secret police
ought to work In the United States.
Mr. Clarke has felt for some time
that a more intimate knowledge of
home conditions in Italy would assist
him in his work. Brooklyn has a
large Italian population. It was at
Mr. Corrao's suggestion that he decid
ed upou the scheme of spending his
vacation studying the Black Hand and
Mafia in their native haunts.
ill 1 . Corrao knows as much about
Italian criminals and their ways as
perhaps any other man in the United
States. He has made a special study
of the subject, and his place In Mr.
Clarke's office has brought hlin into
touch with them many times. Al
though a Sicilian himself, he does not
attempt to minimize the extent of the
operations of Italian criminals and
even denounces those people who do
so as really antagonistic to Ills coun
trymen.
"It is quite true there Is a great deal of
crime among the Italian population," he
said to a reporter of the New York Post.
"An honest man cannot deny It. Per
haps, It may bo said, the amount of Ital
ian crime is not out of proportion to the
large number of Italian citizens wo have,
but nevertheless there 1s n great deal of
It. too much of It. People who try to
wink at that fact are really unythlng but
friends of Italians. They are actuated
by a fear that the barriers against Immi
gration may bo heightened, and solely on
political grounds they decry the extent of
Italian crime.
"Personally I have said that the only
way to keep Italian crime in check Is to
increase the difficulties of entrance Into
the country for men who have demon
strated unfitness to be law abiding citi
zens. If within a few hours of his ar
rival In America a man is found carrying
a pistol, he should bo deported at once.
That kind of man Is no good. Also I
would have every man who within a rea
sonable space of time after his arrival
violated the law sent back to that place
from which ho came, whether ho was an
Italian or of any other nationality.
"On this present trip we are going es
pecially to study tho operations of the
Black Hand and Mafia people, who are
found more In Sicily than In the northern
provinces of Italy. It Is a peculiar char
acteristic of Italian criminals, by the
way, that I can generally tell the prov
ince a man comes from by the nature of
tho crime he commits If I hear of n
man being slashed in the body with a
stllotto, I am reasonably sure that a
Neapolitan did It; If a man has been
slashed in the face. I put it down to a
Calabrlan. A Sicilian is Inclined to us
bombs. The meanest of all Italian crim
inals come from the north of Italy, from
Piedmont. They are the Italian confi
dence men, and there are no worse law
breakers in the world than they.
"Mr. Clarke and I shall visit many of
the principal cities and towns throughout
Italy and have talks with the chiefs of
police and the local magistrates. One
thing we ftre anxious to fin I out Is wh.M
the Italian police thlnl; of General Bing
ham's scheme for having n secret police
to keep tab on conditions without the
knowledge of the regular police force
The Italian police arc us •! in see:- : op
erations, and they ought to Un IT how
much such a plan would be wort'.i. S >;ne
people here think It would be futile, be
cause after making one arrest r.nd hav
ing to appear In < jurt und make re
charge the secret oncer's i lentlty would
be established.
"Then We r "•.nil find out What ■
the Italian police are taking at present
to control Black Hand operations Much
can bo learn-d In that way V. shall
hear of the latest tricks of the c tlnal
and we shall probably Invc ell"'.i'. v i to
be present at the examinations of appre
hended lawbreakers and witn- : s the Ital
ian system of i xnmlna'.lon ami prosecu
tion.
"An interesting phase of Italian crime
Is what is known as l'omerta. This is the
unwritten understanding that seems to
exist everywhere In certain classes that
men who are arrested must not tell on
their friends even though they them
selves may not b" guilty of participation
in the offense. This freemasonry often
makes it hard for the police to secure
evidence, and wo shall be glad to find out
whet Italian police are doing to combat It.
"There Is no doubt tliot we ought to
gala a quantity of Interesting Informa
tion which will largely assist Mr. Clarke
in his work. The intimate contact with
Italian conditions alone will do mueli t >
give a closer Insight Into the peculiar
workings of the Italian mind. And I rm
sure that the Italian police will he rl'ni
to extend every courtesy to us. It r i -v.s
tho logical thing to do—to goto the
places from which the criminals come for
information about them
"Do we expect to find nut just what are
the Mafia and the Black ll.nnd? Well. I
don't see how we can. We know as well
as we possibly can, I think, already. The
best definition 1 ever heard of this kind
of fme was that whenever a group of
led together—say six from P.-
• Sicily, and a couple from an
'iso—with the tacit agreement
th '■ * ; ould subsist on blackmail or
; they constituted a Mafia i r
Black 11 .1 band. There is no regular
Organization, no formal agreement—lust
a tacit understanding. Add to this that
the Mafia Is formed of two different
classes of people, high and low, and has
a more distinctive system of freemason
ry, and you can describe the two forms
of crime hysteria as well as any man "
New Rubber Forests.
It Is reported that In the mountain
regions of the Sierra Nevada, hi Spain,
extensive forests of rubber have been
discovered.
muOII
Tho following advertisement, quoted
from a Boston paper of a date early in
the nineteenth century by Mr. Janson
in"The Stranger In America," shows
that the domestic problem Is not ono
of modern manufacture. But what
mistress of today would dare to Im
pose Buch conditions on the hindrance
In the kitchen?
Much Wanted: A neat, well behaved
female to do kitchen work in a small
family in Charlestown, near Boston.
She may pray and sing hymns, but
not over the dlshkettle. She may, go
to meeting, but not belong to the con
gregation of midnight worshipers.
Inquire at Repertory office, near Bo»-
MAN WITHOUT A SOUL
The Uncanny Creation of Mary
Godwin Shelley.
MONSTER OF FRANKENSTEIN.
The Interesting History of an Earlier
Day Novel That Is Frequently Al- i
luded to In Literature and at Times
Quoted Incorrectly.
Everybody, or nearly everybody, has j
heard of the novel of "Frankenstein,"
though It Is not probable that many
persons read It nowadays. There are I
so many allusions to It In our litera
ture, however, that one absorbs some
sort of notion of it so that ho cannot
help knowing that it Is a weird and ,
ghastly story about a monster, but
whether or not Frankenstein is the
monster even well Informed people do
not always know, showing that they ;
never cead the story.
Sometimes we hear allusions to
"Frankenstein's monster," as In one of
Charles Sumner's orations, where he
speaks of the "soulless monster of
Frankenstein, the wretched creation of
mortal science without God," and some
times the reference is to Frankenstein
only, as if he were the monster. Of
course Sumner, who was very particu
lar in his use of figures of speech, was
right When Mrs. Deland In her novel
of "Sidney" makes Major Lee say that
"Christianity is a Frankenstein" she
suffers the major to talk nonsense.
The story of this weird novel and the
circumstances under which it came to
l»e written are decidedly interesting
and may be told in a few words. The
facts are as follows:
In ISIO Mary Godwin, afterward
Mrs. Shelley, eloped with Shelley, and
they took up their residence near Ge
neva, in Switzerland. They had Lord
Byron for a neighbor, and the three
passed much time together. Their con-!
versation frequently ran on the occult
and the mysterious, and Byron one day
proposed that each should write a
ghost story. All agreed and went to
work, but it was not long before the
two poets gave it up as a hopeless
task. They could write poetry, but
they could not write stories.
Mary persevered and completed her
tale in the spring of 1817. When By
ron and Shelley heard It read the.- '
were surprised and delighted. It u.i ■ j
bound to be the novel of the centur.. I
The name of it was "Frankenstt i: :
The Modern Prometheus." It w: s I
mediately sent to London for pi: .
tlon and met with a great success
Frankenstein Is a Swiss youth, n
student at the University of Ingol
stadt, deeply interested in the study of
chemistry and natural philosophy. lie
resolves to penetrate the mysteries of
life and death and wrest from nature
the secret of creation. After prolong
ed study he succeeds and discovers
how to impart movement and anima
tion to lifeless matter.
lie then resolves to mold a colossal
man, making him beautiful in form
and feature and imbue him with life.
He carries ou his work hi a studio far
from the habitations of man, labors
long and secretly, and at last the worn
is completed. There in the great room
lies the form and semblance of a hu
man being, perfect in all his propor
tions. Frankenstein relates the story:
"It was on a dreary night in Novem
ber that I beheld the accomplishment
of my toils. With an anxlefy that al
most amounted to agony I collected
the instruments of life around me that
I might infuse a spark of being into
the lifeless thing that lay at my feet.
"It was already 1 o'clock In the
morning. The rain pattered dismally
against the window panes and my
caudle was nearly burned out when,
by the glimmer of the half extinguish
ed light, I saw the dull yellow eye of
the creature open. It breathed hard,
and a convulsive motion agitated Its
limbs."
Slowly the immense creature arose,
and the artist, frightened at his own
work, lied away. Then he returns to
find his creation possessed of life and
every attribute of humanity except a
soul. Nowhere can it find human sym
pathy. It is out of harmony with all
things about it, and after searching
the world lu pursuit of happiness it
returns again to Frankenstein and de
mands that he make a companion with
whom it cun live in sympathy and
love.
Frankenstein declines, and thence
forth the monster pursues him with
hatred and revenge. It slays his broth
ers and sister, his friend and bis bride.
It follows him to Russia, to Siberia
and into the Arctic ocean, and there
creature and artist perish together. It
is a most uncanny story to read o'
nights.
Sir Walter Scott reviewed the novel
in the Quarterly, but. while admitting
its power, confessed he did not like It.
"Our taste and our judgment revolt at
this kind of writing." All the critics
agreed as to Its daring originality.—
Exchange.
Tactful.
A musical conductor was trying the
voice of a young woman who wished
to secure a place in an opera troupe.
The manager was standing by. The
candidate was frail and timid. She
finished her song with an air of dis
tress.
"Ilow is it?" asked the manager un
ceremoniously.
The conductor caught the pleading
eyes of the girl, but he had his duty to j
perform. He struck three notes on the
piano and left the rest to the manager.
The threo notes were B A D.
The blue in the heavens is larger
than the cloud.—Browning.
Newspapers as Pulpits.
"If I had the money, I would put the
gospel redhot into all the dally j
I would use the advertising depart- j
ments and pay for the advertising."
This new doctrine of evangelism was j
expounded recently by the Rev. A. C. :
Dixon of Moody church in a talk to I
the Congregational ministers in the j
Masonic temple at Chicago. Mr. Dix- j
on gave instances to show that out- j
door and secular hall religious meet- !
lngs were better attended and more j
effective than meetings held In the
fashionable churches.
An innocent heart suspects no guile
—Portuguese Proverb.
SCORING FOR SOCIETY
Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish Roundly
Condemns Its Methods.
PREDICTS A CHANGE SOON.
Prominent Woman Says Riches Are
Not Enough and That Brains Should
Count More—Tired of Being a "Lad
der For Climbers."
Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, wife of the j
former president of the Illinois Cen
tral railroad and fur many years one
of the bright particular stars in the j
social firmament at Newport and in
New York, recently made a startling !
statement condemning present day so- j
ciety and its methods and declaring j
that some change will come soon.
Mrs. Fish remarks at the begiunlng j
i that real hospitality is kindliness and |
that if there was a little more I<lndlt |
ness in New York society there would 1
be more hospitality. She says she
doesn't want j>eople to come to her j
house beenuse they give her things, I
but because she likes them.
"To l>e rich alono Is not enough,"
says Mrs. Fish. She says many rich j
people are dull, while plenty of people J
have brains and money both, and:
these people, says Mrs. Fish, must not i
be barred. She predicts that the time
will come when brains will count more
than money and adds that money Is
ruining Newport now. She thinks it
would be ii great relief if the interest
ing people In the world could be
brought out and made to show them- j
solves and added:
"Nobody is more tired than I of
these funny little people who think
themselves queens. They're too ab
surd, 100 ridiculous. They are making ;
Newport the laughingstock of the'
country today. Personally I am tired!
of Newport. It is dead, barren, spoil- i
! od. Wo are not going there this sum
mer. We shall travel In Europe in
stead. What do we find in Newport
now? Climbers? Yes, to be sure, j
Anybody who wants to get into so-1
ciety—and has enough money—only |
has togo there for four or five years
and lie or she will get Into society—if
they are willing to take the snubs and
the insults which are dealt out to them !
day after day. I've seen plenty of It. j
! "I've seen them struggling to get In. j
I've seen them take the frightful re
buffs which some i>eople are so fitted
112 to give. Yet I've seen these same peo-1
j pie succeed If they only took it long;
I enough. Y'es, there are plenty of peo- j
pie at Newport who have no business (
i there.
"I truly think that society should be [
made to dignify the country, not to;
bold it up to ridicule. I would have I
our society made more exclusive, more
dignified. I would have It harder to I
bo accepted. I would have It so that |
Just the possession of mere money j
would mean little without birth, breed-1
ing, good manners. Intellect. Yet look j
at the people who do get Into society i
with nothing except money! How few
know of the kicks and the insults they j
haw endured just to got In!"
Mrs. Fish says she greatly prefers
her country life at Garrison-on-the- ]
Hudson to Newport because she can j
have with her whoever she pleases
and no one can object as long as she
is satisfied. ■«, --*-v.
New York society, according to Mrs.
Fish, is deadly most of the time, the
average dinner being a bore. She says
; the same people goto the same houses
always and that they would actually
, shudder to meet a stranger. She tells
of inviting a man to her house to din
nor who was not known to the other j
guests. One of the women asked her
bow the man came to be there, and
two days later Mrs. Fish met the same
woman with the man. This time the
woman whispered, "Isn't he perfectly
charming?"
Because Mrs. Jones invites some we
man to dinner who is not liked Mrs
Jones will not be Invited to Mrs
Smith's or Mrs. Robinson's, says Mrs
Fish, adding, "But these very poop!,
seem to climb up Into society." Co:;
tinning, she said:
"I'm tired being a ladder myself, l.i
fact, it is very unwise to be a ladder.
I have helped many of them climb it.
I have had all the experience I want
Those people who have climbed are
the most unkind to those who have
helped them climb. That's only human J
nature.
"Why? Because they want to kick j
the ladder when they get up. When n
thief robs a house he knocks down the \
ladder so that nobody will know liov j
be got In. So It Is with these climbers
They don't want others to know how
they got In.
"They hate the people who know
their secrets. They have no use for ;
the very ones who have helped them I
climb, because they know how It wn«
done—and might tell.
"Nobody will catch me being a lad !
der again. I prefer to meet my friends !
from above. They didn't have to climb j
up. Neither did I."
In conclusion Mrs. Fish declares em !
phatically that New York society will
have to change, saying that lack of
money should not bar any person, "and
the time Is coming when these other
qualifications will count or else there
will be a social revolution." she con
eludes.
Every Day May Be a Sunday.
Sunday and Day are the names of
two farmers at Martlnton, near Mo
rooco, Ind. Sunday has five sons and
Day five daughters. Three of the Sun
day boys have already married Day
j girls. With the other two brothers
| courting the remalulng sisters. It looks
as though every Day would be Sunday
\ by and by.
Commoners Not Wanted.
No commoner, however distinguished,
: however great his worldwide fame as
; scientist, artist or musician, can hope
j to belong to the German Imperial circle
: unless he be first dowered by his em
; peror with the magic patent of nobil
| lty. No wife or daughter of a great
millionaire, however honorable the
j source of the husband's or father's
' wealth, can dream of being presented
to the empress. The Prussian nobility
form a caste entirely apart from the
rest of society, and Berlin, socially
speaking, Is composed of many differ
| ent worlds, none of which mingles with
the other.—London M. A. P
WARNEDBYSPECTERS
One Person's Three Experiences
With Ghosts.
THE SPIRIT OF HIS SISTER.
How an Apparition From the Unseen
World Aided the Brother In Deciding
an Important Legal Question —The
Phantom on the Grave.
Three times in my life, each Instance
separated by an Interval of years, have
the experiences bore told been mine.
I come of a family to different mein
!>ers of which have become visible at
times those appearances which for
want of a better name are known as
"ghosts." It Is at least passible that
the superstition regarding the second
sight of one born with a veil may havo
some foundation in scientific fact, for
my uncle was thus veiled at birth,
and all his life from infancy vacant
space was peopled to him with forma,
which he would describe so accurate
ly In dress, appearance and manner
that listeners would Instantly recog
nize departed friends, gone over years
before my uncle's birth In many In
stances.
It was not till he was a large boy
that he realized that the forms seen by
hlin were not visible to others. Pages
could be written of his experiences,
but I am not here to give hearsay evi
dence, but my own persona 1 experi
ences, the sights seen with my own
bodily vision.
The first instance was so early in
my life that I do not recall It, but iny
mother relates the circumstances.
Our home was in Brooklyn, and we
bad gone for the summer to Green
field Hill, Conn. I was so young that
I still wore dresses and was In charge
of a nursemaid who was iu the habit
of receiving visits from Annie, a girl
of her own class, so that I was well
acquainted with Annie.
She died suddenly and was burled In
the country churchyard, but I was not
told of her death, being considered too
young to understand.
As 1 walked with my nurse past the
cemetery one evening In the edgo of
dusk her superstitious horror can be
Imagined when I cried, pointing di
rectly to Annie's grave: "Oh, Maggie,
there is Annie! She Is waving her
hand for us to come over to her!" I
broke away from my nurse and ran to
the cemetery fence. She caught me
up and ran In a panic to the house,
nor would she ever again pass the cem
etery Rfter dark.
The only Idea In my mind was that
; of a familiar friend whom I had not
, seen for some time.
The second instance was at the most
| unromantlc age possible to a boy—
j about tlilrteen. I wus attending board
j lug school in Dedhain, Muss.
I A school friend, a boy of about my
i nge, had left the school some days
j before for his home In the west, leav
| log In perfect health.
At about 0 in the evening I sat on
I the edge of the bed removing my
I shoes when the wall of the room
| seemed to part and open, showing
i the night outside, with the dim forms
of the trees gently waving In the
wind. As I sat spellbound at this
strnnge sight in the rift of the wall
ngainst the background of the night
stood my friend as I had last seen him.
Just as In life. He waved his hand to
me In token of farewell, stood looking
at me a moment, and gently the vision
faded.
I said to my roommate, who had
seen nothing: "Charlie is dead. I have
Just seen him." The next morning a
telegram to the school said that he had
! died the night preceding.
; In the third Instance I had grown to
j manhood—a normal, healthy man, over
j six feet tall and weighing nearly 200
pounds. 1 am a civil engineer, the
i hardy outdoor life being far removed
from dreams and morbid Imaginings.
' It was on one occasion necessary for
me to consult a lawyer, and one eveti
| ing I met the lawyer In his Boston of
j tire to talk over a matter of business,
j In the course of the conversation he
! asked me a question which I was un
decided about answering. I stopped
J a moment before replying, fi>r consid
eration. lowering my eyes, and. when
I raised them, there stood behind the
i attorney a favorite sister, dead many
j years.
I Her eyes were fixed on mine, her
I fingers on her lips. I instantly ab-
I sorbed the Idea conveyed by her sug
| gestive pose and did not give the law
yer the Information he asked. As it
afterward proved, it was greatly to
j my interest not to do so.
The lawyer shivered slightly as the
I visitant stood behind his chair and
I said that there was a draft through
the room.
I lie never knew that the sensation of
j cold conveyed to his nervous system
| was a breath from an unseen world.
I Science has proved that light, sound
j and color are all the results of vibra
tion of greater or less rapidity. Some
of these vibrations affect our senses and
we see, hear or feel their effects. But
what of the vast space tilled with those
vibrations which affect none of our
senses, yet are unknown to science?
Could our senses respond to them what
secrets of the unseen might not be
revealed, and who can say but the
secret of these strange sights which
sometimes greet the eye of mortals Is
hidden In this unknown range of vi
brations, hiding a world that Is all
about us, mingling with and overlap
ping, surrounding and telescoping our
common humdrum dally life and only
In rare moments of attunement draw
ing the veil aside for a glimpse Into
the unknown.—New York Herald.
Had Left For Parts Unknown.
In a murder trial In Texas some years
ago the counsel for the defense was
examining a venireman regarding his
qualifications to serve. The candidate
admitted that he had once been a
member of a Jury which tried a negro
for murder. It is not permissible in
such cases to ask the result of the trial,
so the counsel said:
"Where is that negro now?"
"I don't know,"was the reply. "The
sheriff hanged him at the appointed
tln&e."
The universe Is not rich enough to
buy the vote of an honest man.
' HER
i BIRTHDAY !
GIFT.
By Gr °y J^tlUon.
| Copyright*! 1908. by Asaoclatod |
« Literary Press. '
The rarely used doorbell rang out an
unexpected rusty summons, and Mrs.
Jordan, engaged In putting the break
fast biscuits into the oven, tilted the
pan in her excitement until the care
fully cut forms slid down to one end
of tho pan, au avalanche of dough.
"Marietta, go answer that bell." She '
thought Marietta had not noticed the
episode of the biscuits, and she would
not for worlds have the girl think
there was a vulnerable spot to her
stoicism or that she owned to curiosl- \
ty. "If it's a woman, don't let her In. j
for there alnt a woman round here j
that hasn't sense enough to know bet
ter'n to call before breakfast"
Marietta, without waiting for the end
of the monologue, had opened the door.
"Here's a package for you," said the
man from tho station, grinning and
pointing to tho small lx>y on the door
step, "he's labeled to Mrs. Jordan."
The girl stared at the small figure lu
astonishment. "I'm Ned and I'm a
birthday present to grandma and I'm
hungry," he said, with no recognition
of the need of pauses or punctuation,
raising very blue eyes to meet hers
earnestly.
"I guess he'll have to come in," said
the girl In bewilderment "I don't
know anything about him, but may
be Aunt Ann does."
Mrs. Jordan, waiting in the kitchen
door, gave a gasp of terror when sho
saw the small face under the leather
sailor cap. "Bobbie!" she whispered
faintly.
"No; I'm not named Bobbie. I'm
Neddie, grandma." The small hands
clung around her waist "Papa said
you would love me and be awfully
glad to see me."
Sho sat down by the kitchen table
and took the child in her lap. It was |
"you DO WANT ME FOli YOUB LITTI.E
UOV, DON'T YOU?"
! the first time she had ever been called
' grandmother, and she had never known
there was a child.
I When Robert Jordan went to the
city six years before to study book
keeping and during the first year raar
| ried one of the chorus girls belonging
to the "Froth and Foam Extravagan
za." his mother's Methodist principles
j had refused to acknowledge that she
any longer lind a son. His letters, un
answered, finally stopped altogether.
I There had been no word from him, di
rect or Indirect, until this small boy,
with the eyes and mouth of her own
little Bobble, called her grandmother.
"I never saw you before at all," he
said, softly patting her checks with
(he cohl little hands from which he
had removed the mittens, "but papa
said you would love me dearly and that
every time you made cookies you
would make me a large cake shaped
like a doggie, with currants for its
syes. Will you, grandmother, please?"
Mrs. Jordan trembled from head to
, foot at the vision of another little boy
j of long ago watching her put the cur
rants in for eyes. She could fancy his
childish voice saying. "Mind, muvver,
! Jon't make him cross eyed."
"Where is your papa?" she asked, un
buttoning the child's overcoat mechan
ically.
"Papa's gone away. He said he was
going to stay with mamma and that I
was to be your little boy. He sent
you a birthday letter in my overcoat
pocket You do want me for your lit
tle boy, don't you?"
j nis childish mouth quivered appre
hensively at her continued silence.
She left the letter unopened while
she hugged him suddenly to her breast.
"Yes; I want you for my little boy.
I have wanted a little boy for years
| ind years—so terribly long." she said,
crushing the words against his short,
curly hair.
"Marietta, take the child upstairs and
wash his face and hands before break
fast. ne's all covered with train
dust," she said, suddenly becoming
conscious that the young girl had been
standing silent in the kitchen door.
Left alone, she looked at the letter
long and silently. The years rolled
back—she seemed to feel with all the
Intensity of her young motherhood.
She realized that the letter must tell
her that her son was dead, yet the
?hlld, her child, seemed miraculously
•estored to her.
Bringing her glasses from a corner of
:he dining room mantel, she opened the
etter.
"I shall not live to see your birthday,
mother, but little Ned will be with
you, and you can't help loving him.
His mother has been dead a year. The
doctor says he will see that the boy
gets to you safely. And, mother, If
you will only love him and forget these
last few years"—
The woman leaned her head on the
table, and deep sobs convulsed her.
Marietta, coming downstairs with an
Immaculate little boy by the hand, saw
through the front window some one who
caused her to run hastily to the door.
"Come to the steps a minute, John,"
Bhff r'n 11 Ptl softly. "I was nfrow T
"rauiffjrwpn the imance to see you to
day. Fro determined to say 'Tea.' eren
She seems to have a horror of people
getting married. It's getting unbear
able. I wanted her to say 1 might
marry you, but I'll do It, anyway."
John Terry's strong hand closed on
hers convulsively.
"Will you wear a veil and carry a big
bouquet?" eagerly asked the child
overlooked by them both.
The man laughed good naturedly.
"Hello, youngster, where did yon
come from? Yes. she can have the
veil and bouquet and maybe there will
be a long train that you can walk be
hind and carry just like the picture of
the princess and her little page. But
who on earth are you, and when did
you strike this town?"
I m Ned Jordan, and my papa's
name Is Robert Jordan, and I've come
to stay with grandma, and I hope yoa
are well." the child answered, with a
polite timidity that caused lum to rush
through liia explanations and wind up
for lack of breath.
Terry gazed at the girl meaningly.
"So? The old lady has relented at
last, has she?"
"I don't think It's that," the girl an
swered softly. "I think Cousin Robert
Is—dead Sho seemed wonderfully af
fected and more gentle than I have
ever known her."
"Marietta!" Mrs. Jordan's voice
called from the dining room. "Is that
John Terry? Tell him to come in and
have breakfast with us. Ifs awfully
lucky to have a man caller on your
birthday. Fm forty-nine years young,"
she added, with a laugh that held a
sob. "And I'm going to start in the fif
ties right You might as well let John
come on in. I'll bet he'll spend most
of tho year with you anyhow."
Tarry, laughing, took the girl's arm
and led her to the dining room.
"She's going to bo mnrrlo<l, aixl I'm
going to carry her train for her, grand
ma," said tho child excitedly.
"All right. Bobble; come, sit In this
| chair by grandma, and let those peo-
I pie that are so much in love with each
other sit by each other."
I The child climbed into the chair and
looked at her reproachfully. "1 should
think If I was your own little boy you
I wouldn't forget my name," he said.
"Yes, Bobble, dear—l mean Neddie."
she snid, "bow your head now while
John asks a blessing on my birthday
gift."
Holland's Source of Wealth.
j 'When it comes to coffee, sugar, indi
go, spices and tobacco all the nations
of the world have to take off their hats
to the little kingdom of Ilolland," said
Mr. Karl Van Valkenberg of Amster
dam.
"Once in every two weeks the Neth
erlands company sells moro coffee
than all tho rest of the world's mar
kets -combined. This fortuniSo situa
tion comes about through the owner
ship of our island colonies. Sumatra,
which Is almost thirty times as large
as Ilolland, sends its tobacco crop to
tho home government Java, tremen
dously larger, Is also ours, and to It
we are indebted for our coffee. Bor
neo, which would make a dozen of us,
is our source of coal supply, and from
the Islands of Blanca and Blliton we
get vast quantities of tin. So you see
that ITolland's riches come largely
from her insular possessions. Amster--
dam and Antwerp cut the diamonds ot
the world."—Baltimore American.
; >•" 112 - "
Easily Grown Lilies, -—**
Few people understand how easily
lilies may be grown in abundance.
The madonna or candidum lily Is as
hardy as a plum tree, multiplies rapid
ly and gives great stalks of superb
flowers in July—fragrant beyond words
to express. Flant them under your
grape trellises or In your gooseberry
rows. If a bulb gets injured in culti
vation, there will be enough left I
have had 900 blossoms in a small bed
about ten feet in diameter. You can
grow the Japanese iongiflorums just as
easily and in the same way, only you
must plant them much deeper, about
six inches, and you must not plant
them in manure. Our native meadow
lilies can be grown in the same way
or even in sod if it is moist. Bury
them ten inches deep. The auratum
and Easter lilies require very deep
planting, and I cannot promise that
they will give you good results.—E. P.
| Powell in Suburban Life.
A Temperance Tattoo.
ICim Kyong Syop is a big. strapping
fellow, energetic in hotly and zealous
in spirit, who is engaged in selling the
Scriptures in Korea.
Five years ago he was worshiping
evil spirits, says a missionary who
sends home the story to the British
and Foreign Bible society. For three
years he sacrificed a cow to them each
year. When Kim became a Christian
he cleared out of his house and prem
ises twenty-seven "devils' nests" made
of paper and old rags.
On the ball of each thumb Kim has
a black spot, and the missionary asked
him if they were tattooed.
"Yes," said Kim. "I did that when
I vowed to give up strong drink, so
that If ever again I raised a glass of
liquor to my mouth in either hand I
rhould see that spot and remember my
vow."—London Quiver
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