VV A RACE TO THE SWIFT. ¢ 299%%%% The year was—well, I can’t tell you ; that without disclosing my identity, which for obvious reasons, I am de- barred from doing. The season was spring. The occasjon was the five mile amateur championship of the world at Lillie Bridge. I had just run and won that event, and having donned my sweater and overcoat, was walking back to the dressing room when I was accosted by an elderly gentleman. “Pardon me, sir,” he said in tone C2 enthusiastic commendation, “but you ran superbly. The way you lost those other fellows in the last lap was a treat to witness. And you don’t seem much distressed by your efforts, either,” he added, regarding me criti- cally with his keen black eyes. “Oh, not worth speaking of,” I re- plied. “I'm in the very pink just now. And I finished with a good bit up my sleeve, as I generally do.” “That was evident,” he answered. “You had the other fellows in hand all the way. Excuse my asking, but I am informed that you are one of the junior clerks in the office?” “You are informed correctly,” I re- plied, somewhat surprised by this in- quiry on the part of a total stranger. “And that your salary is only £750 a year?” “Really,” I answered, for I naturally resented this sort of catechism from a man on whom I had never before set eyes in my life. “I aon’t see that my salary is any concern of yours. How- ever, there's no secret about it. You can find it for yourself in any direc~ tory, and it is the precise amount that you have mentioned.” “Forgive me,” he exclaimed quickly. “I had no intention to offend. But the idea crossed my mind that a man like you—such a perfect specimen of health and vigor—ought to be worth more money.” “There I quite agree with you,” I laughed. “And if you can persuade her majesty’s government of the fact I shall be extremely obliged to you.” “If you'll give me your attention for five minutes I'll explain,” he answered gravely. “Oh, I'll give you my attention right enough,” 1 laughed rather flippantly. “I'm always ready to do that when there are thousand poundses flying about.” “First, let me tell you who I am,” he replied, ignoring my sarcasm. ‘I am a man not altogether unknown in the medical world. My name is Jasper Harvey.” “Sir Jasper Harvey! surgeon?” : ,» “The celebrated surgeon—since you are good enough to use the phrase,” he answered modestly. I looked at him in some suspicion. ‘Was he speaking the truth, or was he merely an imposter with swindling de- signs upon me that would peep out later on? He saw my suspicions and answered them: “I see you doubt my bona fides, and I am not surprised, since you have only my bare word for my ideatity with Sir Jasper Harvey. However, I can easily satisfy you on that point. Are you engaged this evening?” I replied in the negative. “Then will you dine with me at my house in Brook street at 7.30? You will thus be able to satisfy yourself that I am really the man I represent myself to be, and we can further dis- cuss the matter to which I have re- ferred. What do you say?” After some slight hesitation I said I would go. “For at worst,” I thought to myself, “If this man is an imposter trying to hoax me I shall find it out when I arrive at Sir Jasper’s house in Brook street. ‘While, on the other hand, if he is really Sir Jasper, and is kind enough to wish to put me in the way of making a thousand pounds it would be rather foolish on my part not at least to hear what he has to say. Ten to one, of course, there will be con- ditions attached that I can’t possibly comply with. I've always heard that Sir Jasper is a bit of a character, with some rather cranky ideas, and I dare say this is one. However, I may as well go and take the offchance of being put on to something sound.” When I arrived at the famous sur- geon’s house on Brook street all my doubts as to his identity with my in- terlocutor at Lillie Bridge were in- stantly dissipated. He received me in his library with a polite and courteous greeting; then we repaired to the din- fngroom and discussed a simple but admirably served repast, tete-a-tete. Sir Jasper’s conversation was pleasing and interesting. He talked and talk- ed well, upon many public topics. But not until we were seated over our wine, and the servants had withdrawn, did he touch upon the particular matter which was the object of our inter- view. Then he said, with almost startling suddenness: “I told you this afternoon that I could put you in the way of making a thousand pounds.” I nodded. My heart began to beat. To me, who had not a halfpenny of capi- tal, a thousand pounds seemed untold wealth. What was I to be called upon to do in order to qualify for such af- fluence I waited with eager impatience Jor Sir Jasper to proceed. “And when I speak of a thousand pounds,” he continued deliberately, “I must give you to understand that this sum, handsome though it is, does not represent the full pecuniary emolu- ments that are latent in my proposal. You will get your thousand down in any event. But if the matter in hand turns out successfully—as I hope—you will be a further two thousand in poc- The celebrated SCIP AS BRL. 1 said—as, indeed, I felt—that such a sum of money was beyond my wild- est dreams. “But,” I added, cautiously, “I know enough of business to be aware that speak) given away with a pound of tea; and I surmise that some pretty stiff if not impossible conditions are attached to this very tempting offer.” Sir Jasper smiled. “The conditions are certainly not im- possible,” he replied. “For my part, 1 should not even call wem stiff. How- ever, you shall hear them. Pray give me your most careful attention.” “You may be sure of that,” I eried. Sir Jasper went on: “The facts of the case are these. I have a patient in the country wuo is suffering from a severe attack of ner- vous collapse. I have tried many rem- edies. They have all failed. It occurs to me, however, that the transfusion of blood into my patient's system from the body of a healthy, vigorous man will give a very good chance of com- plete recovery, and I have singled out you, because you are healthy, vigorous and fit beyond any one I have ever come across. This is the whcle matter in a nutshell.” We were met at Leicester station by a smart brouwgham, and presently drew up before a large and imposing coun- try house. An imposing butler usher- ed us into a reception room leading out of the entrance hall. “I will tell my lord that you have arrived,” said he to Sir Jasper. After no more than a minute's in- terval an elderly man in evening dress made his appearance. He shook hands with Sir Jasper, then he looked keenly at me. f “Is this the gentleman of whom you spoke?” Sir Jasper nodded. “I am extremely obliged to you, sir, for coming,” said the cther to me cour- teously. “You will excuse us, perhaps, ior a minute or two.” The room in which I stood was a spacious and magnificently furnished apartment, suggestive both of wealth and taste on the part of its possessor. So he was a nobleman. ine “my Lord” had told me that. But of what rank —duke, marquis, earl viscount or baron? I looked about me for possi- ble indications of his identity, any let- ters or papers addressed to him, any books that migh bear his name writ- ten upon the front page. While I was thus employed (to no purpose, I may add), Sir Jasper, by himself, reenter- ed the room. His face wore a tense and excited expression. An eager light glittered in his dark eyes. ’ : “I have just seen my patient,” said. “The operation of transfusion must be performed tonight.” ‘“To-night?”’ “Yes, tonight; in fact, at once. I am afraid I must ask you to submit to be- ing anaesthetized. I suppose you have no objection.” ‘““Anaesthetized? sary?’ ‘“Absolutely—for two reasons. In the first place, because it will greatly fa- cilitate the operation. In the second, because—I may as well be quite can- did with you—the circumstances are of a peculiarly delicate character. The patient is a young lady, and the opera- tion has to be performed under condi- tions which make it—ahem—essential that you should be unconscious of what is going on. I need not enter in- to details. What I have already said will show you the necessity of the course I propose.” he But, is that neces- how it had never crossed my mind that your patient might De a lady. Is she the daughter of Lord—Lord—" Sir Jasper smiled rather grimly. “No use smelling for information,” he said. “I am not at libery to disclose his L.ordship’s name or to tell you any- thing more than I have already done. Some day, perhaps, I may be able to enlighten you. But not at present. And I will ask you, as a gentleman, to re- spect the secrecy with which this case is, for good, sufficient and perfectly in- necent reascns, surrounded, and not to ask any further questions.” Then, after a short pause, he re- marked: “May I ask you to take off your coat and waistcoat, and to unfasten your collar?” “Eh?’ I exclaimed, as I began to carry out his request. ‘‘Are you going to perform the operation here—in this room?” “Never mind. That is my affair,” he answered, rather shortly. And he rang the bell. The butler answered it. “Tell Dr. Jenkins that I am ready for him.” “Yes, Sir Jasper.” The butler went off on his errand. In the course of a minute or two, Dr. Jenkins who was, it appeared, the an- aesthetist, came in. “Now then,” said Dr. Jasper to me, “kindly lie down, upon that sofa.” I did so, my heart beating with ner- vousness and excitement. Dr. Jenkins came and stood over me. He adminis- tered the chloroform. And then—a dead blank. When I recovered my senses, I found myself in bed. A young woman, in the arb of a hospital nurse, stood beside me. Sir Jasper leaned upon the rail at the foot of the bed with his shrewd eyes fixed upon my face. “Well, how are you feeling, now?” he inquired, kindly. “Awfuily limp—and—sick,” I mur- mured. “Just so. Loss of blood—chloroform. ket What do you say to that?” But that will soon pass off. Lie quite “I am in your hands,” I said. “Some- | : 3 ? 1 the way, I promised, when the time 3000 sovereigns are not exactly (so to | | for more than a week. still and don’t :alk. No fatiguing your- self on any account. See te that, nurse, won't you?” And he went away. There was no need to tell me to lie quite still and not to talk. I felt for too weak and ill to have any inclina- tion—even if I had had the strength— for either indulgence. Indeed, it was full three days before I found myself equal to the exertion even of moving in bed; and I was not able to sit up Sir Jasper looked in to see me twice or thrice daily. With returning strength, my curiosity and interest reasserted themselves and I asked him eagerly: “How did the operation go off?” “Very well,” he answered, briskly. “I trust that the desired effect will have been produced on my patient; though I can’t speak with certainty at present. It must be a matter of time.” “I am glad to hear that. Tell me this, though—for I can’t get anything out of the nurse—am I stul in Lord—Lord— What’s-his-name’s house?” “Yes, ycu are still in Lord What’s- his-name’s house; but I propose to move you in an ambulance tonight.” ‘“Where to?” “20 one of my nursing homes London,” But why—why—do you want to move me at night?” “For the same reason that I brought you here for at night,” answered Sir Jasper, frankly—‘“in order that you may not be able, by employing your ge- ographical instincts, to discover the locality of his Lordship’s house, which would be the same thing as discovering his Lordship’s identity. I have no doubt that you are dying of curiosity. But, owing to the circum- stances, at which I have already hint- ed, it is undesirable that your curiosi- ty shoula be for the present, at any rate, satisfied. You must not think us unreasonable; especially as you have been so handsomely paid for your ser- vices. And all being well, that is to say, if the result of the operation upon my patient is such, as I hope, I shall enlighten you in due course. So with this promise I was fain to be content. . The same night I was removed in an ambulance, via Midland Railway, from Leicester to Sir Jasper’s nursing home in North Audley street. Here I rapidly became convalescent, and within a month I was, as he had foretold, back at Somerset House. Before I left his home, Sir Jasper had exacted from me a promise to say nothing to anybody of what had occurred, adding that the further 2000 pounds, which he hoped, in no long time, to be in a position to pay over to me, would be contingent upon this promise being onserved. i assured him that I would keep my promise, and I was scrupulously care- ful to do so. But time went by; the weeks grew into months, the months into years, and I heard nothing more from him, until I was driven to the conclusion that the operation had been less successful than he had expected and that those 2000 pounds would not come my way after all. But at last, three years later, when I had long abandoned all hope, Sir Jasper himself looked in one evening in to see me. He was in the best of hu- more and spirits. His very look be- tokened it. “How do you do?’ he said. “I’ve just come to tell you that operation has turned out successfully—most suc- cessfully. So here’s your 2000 pounds, you lucky fellow.” As he spoke, he handed me his check for that amount. “By Jove! I am glad. Thanks aw- fully,” I exclaimed, feeling in the mood to stand upon my head for delight. “You had need to be glad,” smiled Sir Jasper. “I doubt if 3000 pounds was ever so cheaply earned before. By came, to enlighten you upon certain matters. Well, the time has come now. There is no longer any reason for se- crecy, seeing that the operation has turned out so well. The house to which I took you on that memorable occasion was Bishopsford Castle.” “What! The seat of the Earl of Carshalton?” “Yes. And the patient into whose system your blood was transferred was’— “Lord Carshalton’s daughter? The beautiful Lady Constance Rosehill?” No,” ansewered Sir Jasper, quietly, “hut Lord Carshalton’s beautiful three- year-old filly, Runing Track, who has today realized for his Lordship his life’s ambition and won him the first victory in the St. Leger.” In the course of rurther explanations of this astonishing statement Sir Jas- per said: “The idea was Lord Carshalton’s. He has always been, in his eccentric way, a bit of a physiologist, and it some- how crossed his mind that, if the blood of a man was transfused into the sys- tem of a mewly born foal, some of the physical and nervous qualities of the man might also be communicated—the superior to the inferior. Lord Carsh- alton is a very old friend of mine, I must tell you, and at the outset of my career, laid me under obligations which, even to this day, make it diffi- cult for me to refuse him anything. So when he pressed me to co-operate with him in the scheme which he had in view I felt bound (though I considered the scheme wildly chimerica:) to lend him my assistance. That scheme, in fact, was nothing less than to try the experiment upon the little filly foal with which his famous brood mare, The Abbey, had just presented him. «<All her stock,” he said, ‘are flyers up to a mile; but they are non-stayers. And it is the dream of my life to turn out a real stayer. Can we not get hold of some athlete of tried stamina— some prominent long distance run- ner—and induce him, for a considera- tion, to submit to the experiment.’ “I tried to dissuade him. I suggested that if the transfusion were made at all it should be made from another horse. But he would not hear of it. * ‘It must be a man,’ he declared. ‘The essence of my idea is that the blood of tne superior animal will dominate that of the inferior.’ “At length I consented to co-operate. He had fixed on you as the most prom- ising subject from the first. It was left with me to secure your compliance on whatever terms and in whatever way I could. So, partly in order to persuade you the more easily, partly because I did not want it known that I was as- sociated in such an apparently insane proceeding, I represented my patientas human, and adopted those other pre- cautions against discovery of which you are aware. Now, however, that the experiment has proved so astonishing- ly successful’— r “What! You really believe,” I ejac- ulated, “that my staying qualities were transfused together with my blood, into that confounded filly foal” Sir Jasper shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows in a comical gesture. “Anyway, that confounded little filly foal has won the Leger,” he said, “which was all that Lord Carshalton aimed at. And you've got your 3000 pounds which is all that you bargained for. If you're not satisfied, you ought to be. And I'm not going to answer any more questions. Good night.”— London Truth. BEANS AND BEANS. To Know Them the Savant Must Be Fa- miliar With Some Eighty Varieties. Did you ever watch beans grow? They come up out of the ground as if they had been planted upside down. Each appears carrying the seed on top of his stalks, as if they were afraid folks would not know that they were beans unless they immediately told them. In early accounts of American discovery beans are mentioned as found among the native tribes. In 1492 Columbus found beans in Cuba. According to De Vegas the Indians of Peru had sev- ergl kinds of beans. In Bancroft's “Native Races” the beans of Mexico are mentioned. De Candolle assigns the Lima bean {no Brazil, where it has been found growing wild. Seeds have been found in the mummy graves of Peru. in southern Florida the Lima bean seed white blotched or speckled with red, is found growing spontaneously in abandoned Indian plantations, It has not been found wild in Asia. nor has it any Indian or Sanscrit name. It reached England in 1779. In central Africa but two seeds are ever found in a pod. It is not prob- able that the common kidney bean (Phaseolus vulgaris) existed in the old world before the discovery of America. The evidence for the an- tiquity of the bean in America is both circumstantial and direct, and the varieties were numerous. In 1609 Hudson, exploring the river that bears his name, found beans. In 1640 Parkinson says: “The varieties from Africa, Brazil, West and East Indies, Virginia, etc., are endless to recite, or useless, only, to behold and contemplate the wonderful works of the Creator.” In the report of the Missouri botan- ical garden of 1901, H. C. Irish gives an exhaustive paper upon “Garden Beans Cultivated as Escaulents.” He gives ten pages of pictured beans, re- minding one of 80 varieties a boy in Vermont collected and carried to the fair many years ago. ‘ In the United States beans are soaked in water, then boiled and baked. In old times the Vermont beans were soaked in cold water over night, then boiled all the forenoon and baked all the afternoon in a brick oven, generally in the company of brown bread and Indian pudding; also a bit of salt pork was added be- fore being baked, the rind evenly slashed. Caribou Murder. Newfoundland is probably the only country in the world where venison, salted or fresh, is a staple article of aiet for the masses. The coasifolk make their plans with method and deliberation. From the harbors where they reside they go in their boats to the rivers and fiords which strike into the interior. When navigation is no longer possible they debark and con- tinue on foot to the deer country. They carry barrels filled with salt and sometimes go in large companies. When the rendezvous is reached they camp. Then they ambush themselves along a promising “lead,” or deer track, armed with long, six-foot, muz- zle-loading sealing guns, which they charge with about ‘eight fingers” of coarse gun powder and “slugs” of iead, fragments of iron or bits of rusty nails, whichever they may have. They fire point blank into a herd of caribou, as it passes, and being usually good shots, contrive to kill almost anything they aim at, or to wound it so badly with these dreadful missiles that it soon collapses. Then they skin and cut up the meat, for these men know a little of every trade, and pack it in the barrels with the salt as a pre- servative.—Relentless Pursuit of the Newfoundland ‘Caribou, in Outing. Age and Wisdom, The world insists that age and wis- dom must’ go hand in hand; the so- lemnity and profundity of a young physician’s hems and haws increase in direct proportion with the growth cf his beard.—New York News. On the Rhine. It io stated that from the mouth to the source of the Rhine 725 castles, formerly the L.omes of warlike chiefs, are to be found overlooking its wat BU WORLDS FUEL SUPPLY. COAL RESOURCES HERE AND IN OTHER COUNTRIES. Differences in Mining Methods — Substi- tutes for Coal—Solid Petroleum Hand- led Like Coke—The Possibilities of the Use of Peat as Fuel in the Future. officers of the Bureau of American Fe- publics, “has recently been made the subject of an interesting study by Dr. Ferdinand Fischer of Guttengen, Ger- many, who has collected with much care all the available data as to the coal resources of the globe. His find- ings are made of peculiar value by the recent anthracite strike here, with its focussing of American attention on fuel.” It is a curious commentary, that while China, so far as is known, is richer in coal than any other country in the world, almost none of it is yet available for steam power. It is large- ly used by the Chinese, but mainly in the regions where it is mined. "The land routes are so peor that it does not pay to haul coal more than 25 miles. Unless a mine is within this distance of water carriage, the area of the distribution of the output is confined to the immediate neighbor- hood. Steamships at Shanghai are to- day filling their bunkers with coal brought from Europe, because it is cheaper than coal expensively brought from Chinese mines in the interior. In Dr. Fischer’s opinion, Germany has a coal supply that will meet the needs of that country for about 1000 vears. Dr. Fischer also reaches the conclusion that probably within the next 50 years, and certainly within this century, Great Britain, at the present rate of consumption, will exhaust her coal resources. She certainly cannot g0 on supplying the larger part of the world’s export. The total production of coal in Great Britain in 1901 amounted to 219,046,945 gross tons, against 225,181,300 tons in 1900. Japan has large coal resources, particularly in the southern province of Kiushiu. Borneo is rich in coal formations, as is als New South Wales, a fact that is enabling Sydney to forge ahead of the other Australian cities in industri- al development. Africa and South America are poorer in coal than any of the other continents, but the devel- opment sof coal mines in South Africa bids fair to supply the industrial needs of the country. According to returns to the United States Geological Survey from produc- ers representing fully 97 percent of the entire coal output of the United States, the production of 1901 amounted to 292,240,758 short tons, valued at $348,- 813,831. ‘As compared with 1900, when the output amounted to 269,831,827 short tons, worth $306,891,364, this rep- resents an increase of 3 percent in quantity,” and 13.6 percent in value. The production of Pennsylvania an- thracite showed a phenomenal increase from 51,221,353 long tons in 1909 to 60,242,560 long tons in 1901. This rep- 1 resented a gain of 17 1-2 percent, the largest percentage of gain made by the anthracite trade in 20 years. Part of this increase was due to the strike in 1900, which reduced the output that year by over 2,500,000 long tens. The increase in the value of thg anthracite product - is still more striking, the amount received at the mines last year showing a gain of more than 31 per- cent over that of 1900. A period of prosperity enabled consumers general- ly to pay higher prices for their fuel, and a railroad monopoly made them do SO. The production of bituminous coal, lignite, cannel coal, ete,, in the United States increased from 212,513,912 short tons in 1900 to 224,769,091 short tons in 1901, indicating a gain of about 6 per- cent. The value of this product amounted to $236,309,811, as compared with $221,133,513 in 1900, an increase of $15,177,298, or a little less than 7 percent. The coal production of the United States last year was nearly 20 percent more than Great Britain's; nearly 80 percent larger than Germany's; nearly seven times that of Austria-Hungary, and more than eight times that of France, England, however, continues to export more coal than all other countries. It supplies far more coal- ing stations than any other country. The business of selling coal abroad is usually very profitable, and one rea- son why England surpasses all com- petitors in this line is because her coal is so near the sea that she is able to ship it less expensively than any other exporting nation. Owing to the more extensive use of coal-mining machin- ery, much of the united States coal at the pit mouth does not cost as much as British coal when raised to the sur- face, but by the time it is shipped on the ocean it usually costs more than British coal. England has special ad- vantages for the export coal {rade, and she improves them to the utmost, in spite of the fact that economists assert that the present century will see the end of her coal resources. A comparison of the coal resources of Great Britain and the United States was recently made by A. S. E. Acker- mann, who shows that the area of coal fields "in the United States is about 225,000 square miles, as compared with 900 square miles in the United King- dom. When it comes to actual mining op- erations the American uses much more machinery than the Briton. Mr. Ack- ermann says that the annual product of the American miner averages 526 tons, while that of the British miner is only 300. In America the railway freight charge per ton-mile is about one-sixth as large as in Great Britain. Three causes operate to produce the result. Coal in the United States is usually shipped in cars holding 50 tons, while in Great Britain it is broken up Crs, into six-ton or ten-ton lots; second, “The world’s fuel supply,” said an- the original investment of capital im railroads is much greater a mile in England than in America, and the rateg must be heavier in order to pay divi- dends; and third, our hauls are longer. A recent report by Consul Brunot of St. Etienne, France, states that a con- cern in that country is now engaged in the manufacture of solid petroleum, that is, petroleum so treated that it may be handled as coal or coke. This product is manufactured in the form of briquettes, wnich are composed chiefly of petroleum, either crude or refined, and possess all the desirable qualities of coal and ordinary petro- leum without any of the objectionable characteristics of either. The principal expense in the manu- facture of the new fuel is the oil, the other ingredients and the labor cost- ing comparatively little, * Serious attention has been given in recent years to the possibilities in the use of peat as fuel. In Nortn Euro- pean countries, in Ireland, ad in some other regions, the peat deposits have formed for a long time an important fuel supply. Even in Germany, which is relatively rich in coal, the peat bogs are exploited excensively. in the United States there has been little inducement for the development of the country’s peat wealth; nevertheless, many be- lieve that there is a wide field for profitable use ot this fuel in this coun- try. Far greater possibilities in this airection exist in Canada. That coun- try is practically bare of coal, but rich in peat, and may be forced to consid- er the use of the latter on an extended scale. Peat, in its natural state, is a poor fuel. It holds, suspended in the meshes of the network of vegetable fibres of which it is composed, a very large percentage of water, and also contains much water in more intimate combination. A number of methods of treating it are in operation. It has long been realized, however, that the most desirable peat product would be a coke, and numerous attempts have ben made in this direction. Up to the present none of these have proved suc- cessful. A process developed quite re- cently promises better results. If the claims made for it are well founded, the peat coke it produces will soon be a valuable fuel.—New York Post. TAKEN AS AN CMEN. When the Hangman’s Rope Broke All Said Purdy Was Innocent. “Although I never saw but one hang- ing, I witnessed a sight that even pro- fessional hangmen have not seen,” said A. A. Albrechton of Columbus, Miss. “It was at my home. A young Mississippian named Purdy had been convicted of murder in the first degree and sentenced to hang. The evidence was wholly circumstantial, and before he was accused of that crime the young man had borne an excellent reputation. He was also connected by marriage with some of the best people in the state. “Nevertneless, he was sentenced to hang and the governor would not re- prieve him. There were two factors in the community, one believing him guilty, and the other considering nim innocent. The latter talked of rescue, tut it was all talk. “The scaffold was not inclosed and when young Purdy ascended the gal- lows he walked erect and fearless. He denied his guilt, and all who saw him were compelled to admit his bearing was that of an innocent man. The black cap was pulled over his face, the sheriff pulled a lever, and the next we saw was a man getting up from the ground snatching the black cap from his head and declaring dra- matically: ‘God has proved my inno- cence.’ “The rope had broken. Thai was enough. Former enemies turned into adherents, and before the sheriff could again take his prisoner to the gallows and get anether rope he was in the centre of a crowd of thousands of people, all of whom were swearing there were not sheriffs enough in Mississippi to hang an innocent man. “Purdy was takea home, and an es- cort of 250 armed and determined men went with him and remained until there was no danger of any further proceedings being taken. Without any legal formalities the matter was al- lowed to drop, and Purdy is living 18 miles from Columbia, respected and happy. “Joy almost killed his wife when she saw him alive at the time she ex- pected his corpse to be brought home. To say Purdy is guilty is now almost as much as a man’s life is worth down there.”—Denver Post. Perseverance and Inspiration. “I was once told,” said Anthony Trollope, the novelist, “that the surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler’s wax on my chair. 1 certainly believe more in the cob- bler’'s wax than in inspiration.” And by way of explanation he adds: “Noth- ing is so potent as a law that may not be broken. It has the force of the waterdrop that hollows the stone. A small, daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spas- modic Hercules. It is a tortoise which always catches the hare.” It was his custom to rise at 5.30 and write for three hours, with his watch before him. He required of himself 250 words an hour. This, at the end of 10 months, gave him three trhee-volume novels, The man who everlastingly keeps —whatever it may be—a success— New York Press cmfwyp chmfwyqpj New York News. The Librarian’s Hamor. “What,” we ask of the librarian, “do you suppose is the greatest library {book in the world—the book that is in the most demand?” “Carnzgie’s bankbook,” he responds confidently, without looking up from his work.—Baltimore American, en Ne Xe ow tS era ish ER A SEI AN ELOG A The Rev. Out Y Morta Than] NEw Y bur Chap most str; is intend better thi Cord,” ar three-folc clesiastes birth, “tol sun rise son’s face you ever and I ne city of H hospital stopped - where a was reck ournalist alls are Boor and each othe here unti doubt no if it were from the condemne had neve There ar ought to mind the way God Since me [im. Ad “him in t] art thou! Joins of t e sends er of righ will He 1 ngel vis im fortk every wa - to a plac of a fath Eure of G dren; Ds Absalom, cern for in every upon the ment He hold His stone, an written eaven a galy Son the s shepherd angels’ mr of Nazar teaching ing in c through When t] wickedne live in t were & | made Hi the cross might br been cru had riser lem unti power fr mands, a come wit wind the They we: egan to pirit ge day to th world, ar thas been sinful m: grace, th vision wi in every a most si ing in th the last « When lish coas name, b [passengel men and the broke again an that he let them the ship me that preach t and cry come, fle cause we Holy Gh preached cried al Beemed t the ange not strik are almc becoming more st aloud wi 'A thre but ther untwist separatel prisoner resentati to-day is against ( giveness. A fat] North tc not gran! old fathe carraige way out fell dow again an back he me and |
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers