| A Cowan's Epima. | GE? ¢ @P CITTITED © GEESE GIIERTTED CERI © GEERT CD § aD The ship struck the rocks at two bells in the middle watch. Half an hour later she went down. Into that half-hour were compressed a few deeds of heroism, many of rank cow- ardice. Some lives were saved, more were lost. Over the liner and -the great majority of her passengers the sea closed in, hiding heroes and cow- ards alike. The wreck of the Casparia did not make pleasant reading in thie news- papers... Men read the tale of that disgraceful panic with loathing the deeper because they lopked within their own souls and shuddered to think that in similar circumstances they might have shared it. A few of the officers had done theiy best, but the passengers had stam- peded like frightened sheep, huddling about the boats; and the crew, a scraping of the scum of all the ports of Europe, had got among them, knife in hand, and had fought for their own safety, regardless of the women and children. Mr. @ranville, the first officer, had managed tc keep some order around his boat. Grim and resolute, he swept the muzzle of his revolver around a circle of angry faces, and kept back the men while he assisted the half-clad women to enter. Ar- thur Railsford, who had been aroused in his berth by the long grinding crash of the vessel's side against the rocks, had hurried from ‘his cabin, sick with fear, not on his own ac- count, but for the sake of Lillian Waters, the girl he loved best in the world. He met her at the foot of the cabin companion, and without a word of explanation, put his arm about her, and carried her up the stairs on to the deck. He saw the crowd about Granville’s boat, and pushing his way violently through it, came out in the open space within, to find himself face to face within the muzzle of the mate's pistol. “Stand back!” sharply. “One, two “Not for myself,” he gasped, her—for this lady.” “Pass her in,’ answered the mate, “and stand back. No men go in this boat except those who have to man her.” The ship gave a heavy list to port, and the crowd, who had been kept in check by the mate's pistol, were flung violently forward in the seething mass against the boat’s side. The mate's pistol rang out sharply, once, twice, but without effect. Fear and the chance of safety had converted sane men into lunatics. Desperately Arthur strove to lift the girl into the boat. He had al- most succeeded when a young man leaped up on the gunwale, pushing her aside in his frenzy, and clgmber- ing in himself. The girl gave a cry, and stretched out her hands for help, clutching the edge. The young man turned, and Arthur could see his face, livid with fear, great beads of sweat moistening the long lock of dark hair that hung above his forehead. With an oath the creature turned upon the. girl, beating her hands down; and as she still struggled he snatched up an oar and struck her across the face. Railsford uttered a curse, Dut, hampered as he wag, he could do no more. He turned his attention to Lillian. But the mate had marked the action and had swung his weapon round savagely. There was a flash, a choking cry, and the lad who had fought so desperately to save him- self flung up hie arms, spun round and fell, a stream of blood pouring from his throat. The end came with terrible swift- ness. The ship heeled over and. plunged. Railsford gripped the girl and took a long breath. He was a strong swimmer; but the frightful suction of the sea tore her from his grasp as if he had been a child: He was dragged under and lost consciousness. When he awoke he found © himself in a boat among friends. He looked about him for the girl. She was not there. He faltered a question. They only shook their heads. * * * * * * * The boat! with its few survivors was picked up by a cargo steamer bound for Liverpool; and in due course Arthur found himself once more on lana. He cared little. He was a changed man, mcody and silent. There was before him a definite purpose which seized upon him with the strength of an obsession. He had seen no more after the blow which the lad had struck at Lillian’s face. Even his anger had given way before the necessity of comforting the girl, and he had devoted the whole of his attention to her. He had not seen the mate's shot, he had forgotten, if he had seen, the youth, spinning round with the blood pouring from his throat, he did not know that he was dead. As the days passed the thought that that boy must be alive grew into the wish. Surely he must be alive; and, if so, he, Arthur Railsford, must find him—find him and deal out the death which he deserved with every circumstance of cruelty his mind could invent. For weeks he sought industriously the survivors of the disaster and questioned them. Those he saw could afford him no information, and he said Granville, “for turned from them in hitter disap- pointment. : At last he got wind of a sailor who had been on a boat of which ht had previously heard nothing. He trav- eled to Hull to see him, learned there that he had started to tramp to Newcastle, where he had relatives, and set out on foot in search of him. He walked doggedly, inquiring of such folk as he met whether the man had passed that way. Evening fell apace, and found him on a long stretch of lonely road, conscious for the first time in all that day of the distance he had traveled, and the weariness which was weighing him down. i He was footsore, and he limped~a good deal, aware of a blister on his left keel. To go on for any distance was impossible. He must find shel- ter—an inn, if possible; if not, the first ‘dwelling place he could find. Half a mile further along the road the lights of a small cottage shone out from a plantation. They glowed cheerfully, inviting him to rest ' He paused irresolutely at the: gate, then threw it open, and went up the path. Raising the kfiocker of the door he rapped slowly three times; and await- ed an answer from the inmates. There was an appreciable pause, and then steps became audible in the passage. The .door opened, and an elderly man appeared, holding a lamp high above his head, and looking out curiously. . Railsford noticed that the some- what severe cast of his host's coun- tenance was deeply graven with lines of suffering, and that his hair and pointed beard were grey. He no- ticed something further also; for a second man had looked out with a strange air of cagerness, which had in it something of fear. The expres- sion lasted but a moment, and then vanished, giving place to one of cour- teous interrogation. “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Railsford, ‘but I have walked far and am lame, and I can see no sign of an inn. I saw your lights and wondered whether ycu would give me shelter.” The man looked at him gravely. “God forbid that we should turn any one from our doors,” he said, “but I fear we shall be a somewhat cheerless company for you. You come to a house of mourning.” “The better—if I do not intrude upon you,” replied Railsford, grimly. “1, too, have cause for grief.” “Come in, sir, come in,” said the man. He stood aside to permit his visitor to enter, and ushered him into a room which opened from the right of the passage. Railsford looked about him. The place was simply but comfortably furnished. The large table in the centre was covered with crimson cloth, and a lamp standing upon it shed its soft radiance about the walls. Two large horsehair chairs flanked the fire. One of them had been pushed back, as though his host had risen from it. Close beside the lamp sat a gentle, refined looking woman with scanty silver hair. She was knitting indus- triously, and the ceaseless clicking of her needles paused but.for a moment at his entrance, and then went on again. In that moment she had glanced at him with the same air of half fearful expectancy which he had observed in her husband. Then she glanced at an open Bible which lay before her on the table, sighed, and continued her work. “My dear,” said her husband, “here is a stranger who has walked far and who asks our hospitality.” He turned to Railsford. ‘‘Let me intrcduce you to my wife, Mrs. Fos- ter. I am Captain Foster, at your service.” “My name is Railsferd,” replied Arthur; “I must apologize for my in- trusion, but I really cannot go fur- ther to-night.” ‘The woman put down her and rose. “We are glad to be of service to you,” she said gently. "If you will excuse me, I will see that you have some food.” Ser His host indicated a chair; the woman left the room, and returned in a few moments with cold meat, bread, and a jug of beer. She set these before him on the table. Rails- ford was too hungry to make fur- ther apologies. He set to work upon the victuals, and soon began to feel more satisfied. All the time he was busy with the meal the elderly couple watched him in silence, the woman knitting nervously, the man, leaning back in his armchair apparently lost in thought. The silence began to oppress Railsford, and he spoke. “I do not wish to be intrusive,” he work said, ‘but I imagined as I came in that you had one.” Husband and wife exchanged a quick glance. Then the man averted his eyesand the woman dropped hers to her knitting. “I am sorry if I have said anything calculated to hurt you,” said Rails- ford, puzzled. ‘The fact is,”” he con- tinued apologeticeily, “I fear I am not as tactful as I used to be. 1 have recently passed through a.great dan- ger and a great sorrow and it has rendered me careless.” ‘“A great danger and a great sor- row ?’’ said the man, looking up slow- ly. heen expecting some ‘and pallid. | pression knocked at his heart, and “Yes,” replied Railsford. “I war shipwrecked. I was on the Casparia. No doubt you have seen an account of the disaster in the papers.” His remark was received in dead silené¢e. Looking up, he found that the couple were staffing at him. Their faces, in the lamplight, were gray Something in their ex- in the stillness he could hear the ticking of the clock. “My son was on that boat,” said the man after a pause. Railsford could make no answer; he was looking at the woman. Tears hgd gathered in her eyes, and one trickled dewn her left cheek. ‘“‘He is dead,” the man ‘continued in the same level tone. “We have read the lists of tke survivirs, but his name was not among them. And yet, we hope; we know that he is dead, vet we cannot help hoping. When your knock came—but no "matter, You could not know it, but you gave that he used to do.” The poor woman broke out into lamentations and buried her face in her hands. ‘“My boy!” she sobbed. ‘My beau- tiful brave boy! He is dead. He is lying out in the cold- sea to-night, and I shall never see him any more —never any more!” The man stood up fiercely. : “And to think,” he cried, ‘“‘that so many lives were lost that could have been saved. I read the accounts in the papers, and it made my blood boil. To think that I should have lived to be ashamed of my profession. Yes, sir, I have followed the sea, but never have I known such a thing. Cowards! Cowards all! The brave are dead.” He turned upon Rails- ford with quick suspicion. ‘“You have eaten my bread,” he cried. ‘‘Swear that you did what lay in your power. This house is a seaman’s house, and that food was earned upon the sea. If you have played the coward I think it would have choked you.” Railsford stood up and looked his host in the eyes. “I was picked out of the sea,” he said, simply. “I did what I could. Would to God that others had done the same.” His host returned his gaze, and read truth in it. He held out his hand. “I knew it,” he said. “I could not think that I was harboring one of those cowards. Cod would not have permitted it. You are welcome.” “Yes, you are welcome,’ cried the woman, ‘for the sake of my brave boy who is dead. He, too, did his duty. He has come to me since in dreams, and he has told me so. 1 have seen him—almost every night and always the same. There was a boat near him and he would not enx ter it. He would not enter it be- cause of the women and children. My boy! My brave boy! He thought always of others. Oh, why did he not think of me? Why did he not save himself—if only: for my sake?” “Hush!” said the man sternly, ‘‘if he had done as you have said and have come here starving I would have spat upon him and turned him from the door.” “What matter ?’’ retorted the moth. er with a fierceness strangely at var- iance with her usual gentleness. “What matter—when I could have gone with him?” Her husband went over to her and patted her hand with a little move- ment of affection that was very touching. “The boy has died as he should have done,” he said. ‘‘Let us take our comfort in that.” ‘“‘He was such a handsome lad,” she said, schbing. “Did you kncw him, sir? His name was Foster— Cyril Foster. Perhaps you met him on the ship.” “No,” said Railsford slowly. do not know the name.” “Perhaps you knew him by sight?” she persisted. “There is a photo- graph there on the mantelpiece. Will you look at it?” Railsford turned in the direction indicated and took the photograph in his hands. He bent over it in or= der to permit the lamplight to illumi- nate its surface. : For a moment his heart stood still. He knew the face. He recognized the sharp features and the long dark hair that hung across the forehead. His fingers tightened on the frame and he kept his face obstinately low- ered, lest the black hatred which boiled within his heart should show itself on his face. It was all coming back to him; the scéhie around the boat, the agonized girl, the cruel blow which had de- prived her of her chance of life—and ves, the sound of the pistol shot and the thought, nay ihe certainty that the scoundrel was dead. With that conviction a part ¢éf his life seemed torn away. Vengeance was gone from him, and existence seemed utterly empty. After all, what did it matter? Lil- lian was dead, and the iad who had struck her was dead also. * Let the dead bury their dead. His business was with the living, whose salt he had eaten, who were clinging to such shreds of comfort as. they could find. : Could he take it from them? He looked up with a set face to #nd their eves upon him. Ther he lied. “Yes,” ‘he said slowly, “I Eknew him. I saw him at the last. He died as a brave man should.”’—Manches- ter Chronicle. . g rn “1 A Class Too Numerous. There are too many men who ex- pect an editor to slave in defense of their pet notions and hobbies, advo- cate their views against the strong- est opposition and then coolly with- hold the business support by which alone a small newspaper can live,-— East Hartford Gazette. RANK GRAFT Raffles Are an Easy Way to Gather Coin :: a — Ta TTS By ¥. G. HARTNETT. One of the most annoying of small crafts is the raffle, as conducted for gain. It is bad enough to be held up twenty-five cents or fifty cents for a ticket which entitles you to a chance on a rug or a clock when you reason- ably are sure that the proceeds will ga to charity, but no man likes to be fooled out of his small change by a cheap grafter, even if the grafter hap- pens to need the money. A story is told of two printers who lived for a month on a cheap silver watch which they raffled off almost daily, until they had ‘‘worked’” nearly all the printing offices of any size in town. Those typographical grafters are unworthy of the noble craft to which they belong. They pretended to be jobless on account of last year’s strike, and unable to live with their families on the money furnished by the union. ; During the noon hour, or about closing or opening time, one of the men would saunter into a composing room and put up a hard luck story. He had an old silverine watch that he wanted to raffle off if he could sell twenty tickets at twenty-five cents each. He usually managed to sell the tickets. About the time the drawing was to take place the confederate entered and cheerfully took a chance and won the watch without any difficulty. Thus they had the watch and the $5 also. They would split the money, and on the first convenient occasion the raffle would be repeated at anoth- er place, and by some trick known only to themselves the drawing was manipulated so that the confederate always won the watch. A south side woman recently had 500 raffle tickets printed, to be sold at ten cents each, the drawing to be on Thanksgiving Day for a ‘‘grand parlor clock,” the proceeds to be for the benefit of a “poor widow.” As the woman herself happens to be a poor grass widow, and as the place of the drawing could not be learned, neither could there be obtained a sight of tke clock, it is not difficult to guess the final destination of $50 for which the tickets will be sold. At many saloons and cigar stores there is a continuous raffle in pro- gress for a '‘fine gold watch.” It is well for those who buy chances to in- spect the timepiece with a critical eye. One of these watches was sub- mitted to a jeweler by the man who won it. “It’s what we call an auction watch,” said the expert. ‘It is worth about eighty-seven cents wholesale. The case is gilded, and the works are of less value ‘than the movement of a sixty-nine-cent alarm clock. It may keep time until the brass begins to show through the plate, and it may not.” . One of the most attractive forms of the raffle ticket game is valuing the ticket at from one cent up to as high as desired. The man who buys a chance draws a little envelope con- taining his number. If he is lucky and secures a small number he is en- couraged to try again. This is a sort of double gamble, and many men can not resist the temptation to speculate upon the chances simply in order to have the fun of drawing the little en- velopes. Of course, many of the raffles are for cases of genuine charity, and it is an easy way to raise funds for some worthy object. Many a person who would not accept an outright gift, even in case of sickness or death, will permit friends to raffle off a piano or a bicycle for a good round price in or- der to obtain a fund to tide him over an emergency. To buy tickets for this kind of a raffle is praiseworthy. But sharpers are not above getting money by the same means. If a strange man, or a doubtful looking woman, wants to sell you a chance for the benefit of ‘‘an old soldier,” or a ‘little orphan girl,” or a “striker out of work,” it might pay you to inves- tigate. But here is where the easy noney comes in for the sharper. It is too much trouble to investigate, and the tender hearted person would sooner give up the ten, twenty-five or fifty cents to an unworthy grafter than to take chances of refusing to aid a case of genuine need. Then, too, there is what might be called a legitimate raffle business. Of course, the raffle is a lottery under the law, and, therefore, is a criminal transaction. But in many cases goods of known value but slow sales are disposed of through rafiles, and the drawings conducted honestly. A north side man disposed of an auto- mobile in this way. It had been a good ‘“wagon’ in its day, although the type was old. He wanted to get a new one, and as the makers would not allow him anything in exchange for the old, he sold raffle tickets to the amount of $500, and the winner got a real bargain—the losers paying the bill. A group of young men who wanted to build themselves a little clubhouse in the Fox Lake region resorted to a raffle that was almost a downright steal. They had the printer make them tickets and each one went among his friends and organized a “suit club,” selling chances for a $30 tailor-made suit. Of course those who invested understood that the suit probably would be worth about $18, but they were satisfied to help build the clubhouse on that basis, and be- sides they thought they had a fair chance to get the suit. : It was learned afterward by acci- dent that there were twenty ‘series’ of tickets sold by these young men, and instead of each series standing for a suit, only one drawing was held and only a single suit made for the entire twenty series of tickets. In other words, they sold $500 worth of tickets for a $30 suit of .ciothes. They built their clubhouse, however, and laughed at the man who kicked because he thought he did not get a square deal for the half dozen tickets he bought. They thought it was a good joke.—Michigan Tradesman. SOME QUEER SCHOOLS. For Policemen, Nursemaids, Grave Diggers, Judges and Croupiers. There are some very strange edu- cational establishments open at the present day. A school for cash boys was opened some time ago, says the Boston Transcript. According to a prospectus pupils, who must not be under fourteen vears of age, are taught arithmetic in every day use, bookkeeping, penman- ship and the quick handling and ccunting of money. Many of the boys who have attended the school are earning good wages as cashiers in some of the largest stores in New York and Chicago. It is proposed to open in London a school for nursemaids, where girls over sixteen years of age may be giv- en lessons in the management of in- fants, preparing of children’s food, plain sewing and laundry work and the kindergarten system of educa- tion. Such an institution aireagéy cxists in Berlin. It was founded two ago by a clergyman and is in connec tion with a foundling hospital. The growing girls of this establishment are taught to become competent housemaids, and positions are found for them in the houses of the best families in Germany. Russia possesses a schogl for po- liccmen, where young rien are irained for the force. The school is situated in St. Petersburg, and in a museum connected thereto the pupils make themselves familiar with jim- mies, drills, chisels and other tools used by proiessional thieves. A par- ticular branch cf the school is the Russian passport system, which every budding policeman has to study in de- tail. A remarkable cducational estab- lishment is the school for Judges opened recently in Paris. Here make believe trials are held by pupils un- der ihe supervizion of well known at- torneys. The whole procedure, from the issuing of » warrant for arrest to J the summing up and the Judge's ver- dict, is carried through in a busitess like manner. At Monte Carlo there is a school of croupiers. It is held during the siz summer morths in the ¢lyb room of the Tir aux Pigeons and thé Salle §'Freripe~ in the larino hijld Ug, Here are tables similar to those in the Casino gaming room, and each pupil in turn takes the role of croi- pier, while others personate nlayers and stake money over a table. AT a given signal the croupier must be ready to calculate and pay out the winning stakes. There are usually between forty and fifty pupils in this school, and a six months’ course is generally sufli- cient to turn them into finished crou- piers. A very odd educational establish- ment is thz school for grave diggers in Belgivm. 1t was founded by the directors of the Great Evere Ceme- tery, and all candidates for posts as sextons in Belgium nust. undergo training“in the school and pass an ex- amination. There are several schcols of house- wifery in England, the principal of which is connected with the National Training School of Cookery in Lon- don. Every branch ‘of household management-is taught at this school, the keeping of accounts, the princi- ples of domestic sanitation and a cer- tain amourt of sick training being in- cluded. Let Everybedy Plant Trees. If every land owner would plant in every available place such trees as wouid not only give present beau- ty but also insure a future supply cf valuable timber, it would so sup- plement the larger work of a Govern- ment forest” reserve that reforesta- tion and the preservation of an ade- quate supply of good timber would be much simplied. The precious and almost indispen- sable white oak is naturally only a forest tree, but the black walnut, which intrinsically is even more val- uable, will grow almost anywhere and in a much shorter time, and it will pay for icself from the time it begins to bear. The same is true of the chestnut. There is no question that cabinet woods will always be in demand, for no other material can possibly take the place of wood in the making of furniture.—Craftsman. Thomas King was ined in a Lon- don police court for taking his baby to a pawnshop and trying to,pawn it for fifty cent, wherewith to buy gie. Inventor Edison, in, his year, says he is ‘ready to begin p ng. n v7, Maine has 650,000 tons of new storage. ice In The flounder eggs a year. lays 7,000,000,000 It is said” that 20,000 tramps win- ter in Chicago. Whistling has a very beneficial ef- fect on the lungs. vulture can miles away. It is said that the scent its food forty England buys more Cuban cigars than does the United States. An Arab proverb run, ‘the wife is the keeper of her husband's soul.” has a fifty-four-mile It is the longest in Argentine horse railway. the world. The amount of money paid an- mually to the world's rulers amounts to $80,000,000. In the Franco-German War Ger- many mobilized an army of 500,000 men in a fortnight. An English manufacturing firm has had texts from the Bible pi cd on the sides of its railway cars. Canada received grants last year—a pared with 1905) of cent. 215912 -immi- gain (as coms- almost fifty per The coronation robe of the Em- press of Russia is of fur and weighs but sixteen ounces. It is valued at $5000. A toothpick factory near Paris turns aut 20,000,900 quills annually. It is the largest plant of the kind in the world. DERIVATION OF A NAME » Stuart, the Name of the Royal Fams= ily, Came From Stewart. Stuart, the name of the former royal family of Scotland and England ‘(sometimes spelled Stewart) was de- rived from the important ofiice of stewart of the royal household of Scotland. The foundation of the house seems to have been a Norman baron named Alan; a follower of Wil- liam the Conqueror, who obtained the lands and the Castle of Oswestry in Shropshire. His second son, Wal- ter, entered the service of David I. of Scotland, by whom he was appoint- ed dapsfer, that is, meatbearer, or steward, of the royal household. The steward obtained from David the lands of Renfrew, Paisley, Pollock, Cathcart and others in that district. He founded the Abbey of Paisley in 1160, and died 1177. His grandson, Walter, had in addition to the office of steward that of justiciary of Scot- land. He died 1246. His eldest son, Alexander, the fourth steward, seized the island of Bute and Arran in the right of his wife Jean, heiress of James, the fifth Stewart, and John, known in history as that of Sir John Stewart of Bonkyl, or Bonkill, who was killed at the battle of Falkirk, July 1298. The eldest of Sir John's sons, Alexander, was the an- cestor of the Stewart-carls of Angus; the second Algn of the Stewart-earls and dukes of Lennox; the third Wal- ter of the earls of Galioway; the fourth of the earls of Athol and Buchan and the Lerds Lorn and In- nermeath. James, the eldest broth- er of Sir John, succeeds fifth Stewart fn 1283. Three years later, on the death of Alexander IIL, he wa= chos- en one of the regents of the kingdom. He fought bravely under Wallace for some time, but submitted to Edward I. in 1297; he died in the service of Bruce in 1309. His son, Walter, the sixth Stewart, married Marjory, daughter of King Robert, which brought the crown of Scotland and Great Britain into his family. His son, Robert, seventh Stewart, suc- ceeded him. On the death of David without issue, Robert Stewart sucs ceeded to the crown as Robert 1); 1375. 90 Ly Sailing at Cape May. Senator Penrose discussing Philadelphia’s need of a deeper chan- nel in the Delaware for ships. “You know,’ he said, ‘‘how often ships get stuck in the mud of the Delaware now. Actually, to traverse that difficult stream with impunity you need as light a draught as they require on the Cape May thorough- fares. “Amazed at the way we skimmed through creeks but an inch or two deep, I said to a Cape May skipper one day: “1 suppose, captain, that you think nothing of sailing across the meadows when there's been a heavy fall of dew?’ * ‘Right you are,” said the captain, ‘though occasionally we have to send a man ahead with a watering-can.”” —Providence Journal was
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers