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Mi Isabel Weyland, a wid iw, is threat- oiird with tho debtors’ prison. Her chiof on (liter. Mrs. Brymer, suggests a way out i.l' tho difficulty, marriagre with an im prison. 'ii d -. t >r. who tor a paltry sum will assume Mrs. Wevland’s debts also, thus relieving, her under the English law as it then was. lie proves te be a young law yer. AI -.Van lira, and in pity she pays his small debt front what little there is left of la r fortum—not enough to free iter—sets him fr and agrees to marry a criminal n lid. mi . d to die. in three days as tho n ans to obtain the desired freedom. An attempt is made to induce her to vu d a li- gro murderer, her outraged woni- ly instinct rejK Is. and she leaves the l-i is m under tin protection of the parson. Spcnoing iter last penny toward discharg ing: her debts, she flees toward Lrondon's suliurbs, to escape her other unsatisfied imditors. She encounters a rich, but in sane. old gentleman who imagines tier to be tiis dead granddaughter and will not p rmit her to depart. Here she takes up an ideal abode, safe from the pursuit of rot engeful credit.* \ t* CHAPTER. FIVE HONE ever such sunshine as on that cloudless morn ing? Surely trees and grass were never so vivid ly green! Thus thought Oliver Mc Namara as he walked out of prison, a free man, not many days after Mrs. Wevland's visit. The gift bestowed by her own hand had clothed him in body and mind and prepared him for the greater good fortune awaiting him. The poor fellow had been so weak and so bewildered by the sudden al ternation from despair to hope, that he could not. reflect on all her gener osity had meant upon that memorable day. Afterwards he nad chided him self for receiving money from one plainly in sore straits herself. She 1 UcnHy. Hm her words to Mrs Brymer, found some other way. The food purchased with her gold pieces would have choked the young man could he have guessed what way his benefactress meant to take. When his glad release came to him and he found himself the happy possessor of a. bank account, however small, he little knew that my lady’s sparkling eat rings paid for his clothing' that a cherished bracelet, furnished his lodgings, and tnat he was eating up dav by day trinkets that had caressed the hands and throat of her whom he worshiped as a scarcely realized vision. He believed that his good fortune came from her gentle and gracious hand and he longed ardently to be assured of her welfare and prosper ity. Doubtless these blessings attend ed her. else- how had she compassed such a miracle for himself? And yet, at intervals as he contem plated the ring, evidently an heirloom, there came to him a thought, a fear, and no week did he allow to pass' without making certain that his doubts were groundless. Each visit that he paid to the debtors’ prison made the place and the law that created it more hateful to both mind and heart. Each time his exit from its loathsome scenes made him long the more ardently to see its cruelties abolished and its wretched inmates set free. At last this thought became the ab sorbing one of his life; and then Will gradualy joined hands with Wish, until the moving impulse of all his thought and speecli was the determination to do all that lay in his power in whatso ever direction to abolish or at least to mitigate its horrors. As he had predicted, there were friends in numbers to gather about him, now that fortune smiled once more. Many were young enthusiasts like himself, and finally the little leav en began to work: there grew rapidly all over the country a sentiment against, the injustice, the futility, the absurdity of confining a debtor where there was no possibility of his doing aught to discharge his obligations. Thorough earnestness in any cause is always recognized and respected, and it was due to this, no doubt, that Oliver found himself on the high road to prosperity with little extraneous aid. Fortune, ever ready to smile on the prosperous, lent him of a sudden one day a helping hand. At a dinner he chanced to meet General Ogle thorpe. soldier, statesman and philan thropist. The great man was pleased 10 greet him most kindly. "My dear young sir, I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I have been much interested in your words and works in regard to that unfor tunate class who are imprisoned for debt. I am very pleased to know you.” Oliver answered with becoming modesty and with a frankness that won upon the general. “I have on hand various plans which my multiplex duties will scarcely per mit me to mature without aid—real interested, enthusiastic help is what I “The ring—that ring ! Wnerz did you get it? Wiere is she?" wait. 1 believe i would find it in. you I have had in mind for some time to seek your acquaintance. Now, if your time permits, I would be glad to see you at some near date for a confer ence.” Tlie young man expressed his pride and pleasure at such a request and de clared himself quite at. the general's service. At the appointed time the two gen tlemen met and wore soon deep in the discussion of a plan that affect ed not only a much-to-be-pitied class in England, but had not a little to do with America’s subsequent development. A splendid working pair the two made; the general, grave, calm, in tensely thoughtful and cautious; the younger man with all the fire, enthusi asm and impulse of youth—youth with a clear conscience, an untiring brain and perfect physical health. McNa mara was a horn orator, and Ogle thorpe. recognizing this, asked his ait! in polishing up the important speech that was to put their labors to five test. At the next session of parliament Oliver sat with a group of sympathiz ers and listened to General Ogle- tliorpe'g brief but forceful argument in favor of prison reform. With tin- bounded pride and pleasure the young lawyer heard ideas, sentiments and even whole phrases of his own flow forth in the general's cairn, clear tones to meet with hearty applause. They heard the culminating motion that a committee lie appointed to in vestigate matters in the debtors’ pris ons; they helped applaud the passage of the motion; but when General Ogle thorpe himself was l-imr-d as chairman of this committee their enthusiasm knew no bounds. There was much work to be done, even after the pitiful, the shameful conduct of these prisons was made public. The workers spared neither time nor effort till the thing was ac complished. the grant of land in Amer ica our own fair Georgia made; the appropriation of 50.000 pounds voted in, and men. good and true, named to carry all into effect. In an of this Oliver was actuated most strongly by a motive half hid den from his own consciousness. Those who knew him attributed his earnest ness to the memory of his own incar ceration, but this was not wholly true. Could he have analyzed his most compelling thought it would have been that all this was done, in a way, for her. But for some fortuitous chance, she might have been one of those sufferers for whom he was at work. He looked ttpon the ring as some- tiling sacred, and cherished it accord ingly. And in his inmost heart he had a sure feeling that some day they must stand face to face. His thought carried him no further. Indeed it was scarcely a formulated idea, but an upholding, upraising faith that, was unconsciously the mainspring of his life. True love is sometimes thus potent through a mere word ox- glance. His state of mind or heart was brought home to him quite suddenly one evening. Having some important business connected with the colony scheme, he was in conference with an astute old lawyer, one Peter War wick. Oliver was going over some points upon a map and in the course ot his talk chanced to stretch out his hand to hold the parchment in place. To his great surprise, Mr. Warwick pounced upon his wrist with a sharp exclamation, and bringing the hand within the radius of the light gazed, upon it breathlessly. “My dear sir,” began Oliver, in some confusion. “The ring—that ring! Where did you get it? Where is she?” “Who?” gasned Oliver. “Why, Isabel Dunstan—Isabel Wey land. Where is she and how did you get this ring?” ’Isabel!” repeated Oliver dreamily. ’’Isabel!” “Yes. Isabel. You must know her. Tell me instantly. I have been search ing for her this year past. Never did have anything baffle me so. Com plete disappearance. Absolutely no clew. Seemed to have evaporated. And here is twenty thousand pounds wait ing for her to step up and take it.” ' chat!' cried Oliver. “Yes, that’s it. Her father relented at the last minute and left her half as he should have done. Now, where shall 1 find her?” The oid man's excitement had quieted down somewhat and Oliver told him frankly all he knew. “Then she's living and we’ll find her!” cried the peppery old fellow. “Why, God bless her! When she was but a slip of a lass sue nursed my little girl through the smallpox be cause everybody else deserted us. Risked not only her life, but what’s far more to a woman, her handsome face. Old Peter can’t forget that. My Nell's almost a woman, but she hasn’t forgotten. Come around and let her have a look at that ring.” “Was it an heirloom?” “Yes, given her by her mother. . There isn't another cameo in England like it. I could have sworn she would A; • /par,’ with it white she was nlp-e and in her senses.” Oliver suddenly felt himself reel. An awful thought had come to him. Why had she given it away? But, no! She was alive; he felt it; he knew it. “She is alive,” he cried, “and we’ll find her!” And the compact was sealed. They did their best but all in vain, band hopes the change will do a heal- No little bird whispered to them to look over a certain high stone wall in a retired part of the city, where a lady, still girlishly sweet and young, paced the flowery walks or fed her pet birds whose cages stood open all the summer long. They might have heard her harp had they but lingered a moment at the gate while she sang sweetly to an old man, who listened in dreamy happi ness. The fragrance of the roses came to them, no doubt, many a summer day, roses artfully reproduced by slender white fingers in pieces of exquisite em broidery still cherished by certain American families as heirlooms of their lovely ancestress. Isabel—'buy. the name’s another story. CHAPTER. SIX Isabel Weyland sat again at a win dow gazing sadly into tlie future. Fate had wrought another crisis in her checkered life and she must face the problem of tomorrow. The months had rolled their varied course once around the calendar, and yet another half year had flown. She had felt no wish for change; many womanly re sources had occupied her happily even during the dreary weeks of winter; and as one peaceful day slipped af ter its fellow, she grew to have no fear and little anxiety for the future. Then of a sudden Mr. Richmond began to fail and within a week he sank; pcacefuly to sleep, a smile on his lips, and her hand clasped feebly in his own. Yesterday he was laid to rest and today she looked with unseeing eyes upon a changed world. Where should she go? What should she do? She felt her bereavement as keenly as the true Jeanne might have one. The old man had been her an chor in this quiet, pleasant haven; now she was again adrift. The calm happiness brought to Mr. Richmond by her continued presence had by degrees restored his disordered faculties to a normal balance. He gradually came to understand that she was not really his Jeanne, but he seem ed .o love her none ine less. Arid when he realized that his time had come, he made a will, leaving her in her true name a considerable sum in available funds, so that she was at least relieved of all financial trouble. Her first step was to move into quiet lodgings until she could pay off those old debts which had made shipwreck of her life. Inen she felt free to plan for the future. The faithful Francois had become her devoted slave and lie acted as her go-between in all her affairs. One day he came to her with his usual melancholy so deepened that she could but inquire the cause. “It is sad, sad, mamzelle,” the old follow replied, shaking his head mournfully. “I have been to see a friend in the . Marshalsea. He was thrown there for a debt a year ago and his wife and daughter were with him. Day after tomorrow they were to have sailed for America with Gen eral Oglethorpe to begin life over, again in that land of gold and sun shine. They were so happy—so hap py, mamzelle! And/ so gratefui to General Oglethorpe and to the young man who has had the actual work in hand—McNamara his name is, I be lieve.” “A lawyer?” asked Isabel with sud den interest. “Yes, mamzelle. and an able one, too. They say he spent some months himself in one of those vile dens and since some friend procured his re lease he has worked and talked of nothing else but help for the unfor tunates the law shuts up there.” “Do you know his first name?” his listener asked eagerly. “No, I do not; but he’s a fine look ing gentleman—and a true one, or I'm no judge.” 'You saw him. then?” “Yes; he was the first one my poor - friend turned to in his trouble. He came at once and did all that could be done to console them.” “But. you haven’t told me.” “True. True, mamzelle. I find my self bewildered and upset by the shock; what must the father and mother feel? You see. as I say they would have sailed the day after tomor row. Lizzie, poor lass, was so happy over it. She was the daughter, just 38—and as sweet a maid as you would care to see. This morning she over- s.ept, and when her mother went to waken her, she found her dead—quite stiff and cold. Heart trouble, the doctors say.” ’ten, how shocking! How truly ter rible! The poor mother!” “Shocking, indeed, mamzelle. She will likely never get over it. Her hus- &f>e First Legal Execution In the Philippines By Claud B. \ealy Written for CAe Sunny South HE first legal execution con ducted bv Americans in the Philippine islands, at which time the American gallows was introduced, occurred April 27, 1000, at San Carlos. Pampanga province, island of Luzon. Benito Gonzales and Gre- goria Morales, two Filipi nos, died bv means of the noose, after conviction for the brutal and atrocious murder of one of their fel low countrymen—Jose Don Domingo, a wealthy and influential Filipino and pres ident of San Carlos. W. Stacy Davis, an Atlanta boy who served as a member of the hospital corps in the Philippines and who has recently returned home, witnessed and partici pated in the execution, assisting in plac ing the dead bodies in ‘he coffins. The accompanying photograph was brought back by Mr. Davis and is the only au thentic views of the execution ever piiu- thentic view of the execution ever pub- story of the crime of the tw'o Filipinos end cf their execution. Never before in the history of the islands had there been a legal death hanging for any crime and the execution marked an important and notable event. Previously the bullet had formed the means by which the natives exterminat’d those convicted of crime. American sol- dors gave them their first insight into the An orientn death trap. Gonzales was formerly president of San Carlos, but rati a wav when it became know'll that the* Americans would soon occupy the town, lie was succeeded by Domingo, who met death at the hands of his predecessor, assisted bv Morales. The two men were captured bv American sol diers; were tried bv an American court, convicted, anil given tho extreme pen alty. the trial was held at Baulista. 20 miles from San Carlos and h“ iilquarters of tho Seventeenth infantry. The two Filipinos were confined there until the day before the execution, when they were removal to San Carlos. There they were placed in a dungeon in a large convent. A Fili pino priest remained with tlie doomed men throughout their last night on earth and the hours in the lonely dungeon were jessed in observing the forms of the Filipino religion. I he Filipinos travel but little and have small knowledge of affairs outside of their own town, but the news that two m‘’n were to he hanged Thousands was so unusual that it of Curious soon spread for miles. Natives In the ear!v morning of Viewed Ext- April 17 people from ecution neighboring provinces be gan arriving in crude conveyances and on foot. San Carlos s a town of about 25.0OI inhabitants, but on that day there were many thousands more within its borders. The execution was set for noon. By that hour the usually quiet and serene town was swarming with Filipinos of all classes and conditions. The presidents of surrounding towns were there and, at tired in costumes of wliite. presented a picturesque sight. The people of San Carlos turned out en masse and the s-ght w as one perhaps never before wit nessed in a Philippine province. Despite the immense throng of natives. no disorder was manifest! d and no dispo sition was show’ll to interfere with :he work of the soldiers. Precautions were taker, how< ver. and the town was care fully guarded by the Seventeenth and part of the Thirty-sixth and Thirteenth infant’-ies. The soldiers kept a closa Continued on last page J :.;WM C BsgS iiiwi hand hopes the change will do a heal ing work for her, but her constant cry now is that she cannot go so far and leave her Lizzie, her baby, here. It is passing pitiful to hear her.” “Do you think, Francois, that I could he of service to them in any way?” “I fear not, mamzelle. There is nothing to be done. Lawyer McNa mara will see that the poor girl is put away decently. Well, well,” he added mournfully, “perhaps heaven is oven better for the dear lass than America, hut her parents will miss her sorely.” Isabel was sitting in deep thought and he stood respectfully waiting for her to speak. Suddenly she drew a long sigh and came out of her reverie. “Your news has put an idea into my head. Do you happen to know a par son Gaynham around Southwark?” “I know him well. I brought him to my poor friends today; and, mamzelle, let them say what they will, he is a good man. He was as gentle as any woman to that stricken mother.” “Will you take a letter to him from me?” “Instantly, mamzelle.” he replied with his deferential bow. Later in the day the parson appear ed in person in answer to Isabel’s note. “My dear lady,” he cried, “may I tell you how overjoyed I am at again seeing you in the llesh—well and pros perous, I hope?” Isabel gave him her hand. She. too, recognized the good heart hid beneath the outer husk. “I know what you feared,” she said, “and you were not far wrong. But fate saved me at the last moment by pointing out another way. and a very pleasant way it has been.” “I am pleased, indeed, to hear this. You have been often in my thoughts— and in those of another, if I mistake not,” he added with a meaning look. “What can you mean?” cried Isa bel, at a loss. “Why, there is a certain gentleman that wears a curious ring upon his ,little finger that- comes to our plat e of entertainment at least every week. He is not satisfied until he has seen ail of our guests and then he draws a sigh of relief and goes away content.” “’Tis your fancy!” the lady cried, a pretty color tinting her cheek. “No; no fancy,” he maintained stur dily, “but solid fact. He bus tried to squeeze information out of the old par son, but—” an expressive gesture fin ished the sentence. “They tell me he is quite prominent in today’s affairs,” said Isabel, care lessly. “He is, indeed. They say that Gen eral Oglethorpe has sought his aid in all his benevolent projects for the debtors.” “And you say he’s active in this new colony plan?” “The leading spirit.” “Ah, that will complicate matters a bit for me,” she said, thoughtfully. “Give me some details o- the plan, please.” The clergyman proceeded to outline the beneficent scheme as planned by Oglethorpe and his allids to assist the imprisoned debtors to begin a new life; the grants of land to he made to the settlers, the government appropriation which should secure them from want until they could establish themselves in their new homes. He expatiated on that wise provision that all emigrants must be of good character and must have the consent of their creditors. He grew quite enthusiastic over it all and lauded both project and projectors in unstinted terms. As Isabel listened her wish grew and strengthened. “My friend,” she said, “I have learn ed of poor Lizzie’s untimely death. Now I want to ask if there would bet any chance of my going to America in her place.” "You, madame? Surely you are not in earnest!” “Yes,” she smiled, “really in earnest. I have not thought of the matter long. 111 admit, but I am very certain that I wish to go.” “Oh, youth! Youth!” sighed the old man. “Well, my dear lady, if you are sure you wish it. that is enough for the old parson. The matter will be very simple. I will see our lawyer friend and when he knows—” “But he must not know,” said the lady quickly. “I particularly wish to avoid that. I desire to go under this girl’s name if possible. Of course I mean to pay my passage, and a bonus for the privilege, if necessary.” “Well, well,” said the parson, some what ruefully, “I don’t pretend to un derstand the gentle sex, plural or sin gular; but it does seem a pity—consid ering all things—” “If you think you can manage this for me,” broke in Isabel, with glow ing cheeks, “you will be doing me a great favor.” “I am quite certain that I can," re plied the parson; “and I will be about it. You shall hear from me at the earliest moment. Adieu, my lady. I will soon be able to wish you ‘bon voy age.’ ” (To Be Continued.) 3? ft ti | . f $; i« ft