Newspaper Page Text
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TIMES ENTERPRISE. THOM ASVILLE, GA., JUNE to, 1904.
oidenhiicit.nHa
WALTER - BLOOMFIELD
* CHAPTER XV.
TATB1B AMD SOX.
' *0 Ernest, my otyn dear boy, look
up and apeak,to me like yourself,"
aald my father, bolding my hand and
looking down upon me with an ex
praeelon of deep solicitude upon hla
kindly face.
I pressed my father’e band and re
garded him steadfastly, bnt made no
reply, feeling painfully weak and IlL
"Please don’t Irritate my patient,
Ur. Trueman. With quietude, In a day
or two be will bo as well as erer,” said
a voice at my side, which I recognised
as belonging to Dr. Thurlow.
For a few seconds It was difficult
to realise my surroundings, familiar
though they were. Tea, this was my
room, and I was lying In my own bed.
That was our housekeeper,'sitting by
the dear, low fire; and the sunlight,
which the drawn curtains subdued
but could not exdude, seemed to denote
midday.
With a great effort I suddenly sat
upright. “Leave me with my father,
I cried; ‘‘I want to talk with him."
"Not now, not now,” answered the
doctor; “another time will do for that
Von must rest”
"No; now, now!" I exclaimed, with
great excitement “Father, send these
people away.”
"My dear boy, be calm. I know all
that you would tell me, undcaro noth
ing al)out It My only anxiety la to
bagg you well again."
"No, no; you do not know. I mutt
tell you now."
"Ernest, my boy, for my sake don'i
excite yourself. I say again, I know
all.that you would tell me. For two
days and nights you have talked of
nothing else.”
"Impossible! Two days and two
nights! What do you mean?"
"I think you bad better withdraw
for a few hours, Mr. Trueman.” paid
Dr. Thurlow; "your presence disturbs
my patient”
My father relinquished Us grasp of
my hand' and moved reluctantly to
wards the door.
"Don’t leave me. lather,” I Implored,
stretching my arms out towards |ilm
and he at once returned to me. “Tell
me, what day la this?”
"Wednesday.”
’ “Wednesday." I repeated stupidly
"Wednesday. My father says to-day
Is Wednesday. Then all Is lost,” and
I lay back again on my pillow.
"Yea, to-day la Wednesday,” corrob-
' orated Dr. Thurlow, gently putting
back the hair from my forehead with
bis band; "and before Wednesday
comes again, I hope to see yon on your
P«ty. galloping past my bouse In your
usaal style. But you are mistaken in
’ thinking that all Is lost; on the com
trary, nothing la lost There have
been no thieves here.”
A long silence ensued, during which
I lay quite still, my face towards my
father, who had seated blnmelt by the
aide of the fire. That two days and
nights bad elapsed since I went down
Into tbo crypt extinguished, my last
ray of hope of obtaining the sequins,
and my normal calmness, to which 1
had been a stranger from the bour of
reading my ancestor’s Record, began
to reassert Itself. At last the house
keeper rose from her ebatr and noise
lessly quitted the room. Bhs was soon
aftsrwards followed by Dr. Thurlow,
who whispered a few words to my
father, and then departed on tiptoe.
, My wlshed-for opportunity' bad now
arrived, but I was careful not to lose
It by too great precipitancy, recent
events having taught me some policy,
and I therefore allowed several min
utes to elapse before I spoke.
"How was It that I came tb bo beret
The last thing I remember la being In
the crypt on Monday night, not long
after my return from London. What
has been the matter with met Don’t
fear to tell me. I am nearly, it not
quite, well, and It will relieve my mind
to know.”
“But Dr. Thurlow has lust Impressed
upon ma that I am not to talk to you
of that; be stya it will distress yon.”
"It Is only natural that be should
think so; but ho Is wrong. U be only
knew what I know, be would not bare
given you such advice, gee, I am
calm and ratlonaL Do pleasa tell
"There le really very Uttle to tell,
and It Is hard to refuse you anything.
.Yon must not let Dr. Thurlow know
that I bare disobeyed him. On Mon
day night, or rather very early on
Tuesday morning, John cams Into my
room In a great fright and woke me
np. I thought the old man' was mad,
and for a little while In my sleepy
state could make nothing of his rapid
utterances and violent gesticulations;
but at last he got me to understand
> had been unable to sleep, hav-
: beard strange noises In the bouse
1 induced him to go down stairs
1 If all was right He found tbo
the sUUfbom open, and also
* which leads to the crypt.
man bad the courage to de-
Into the crypt where be was
1 find you lying, as be aup-
He came up te me, as I
I as soon as I could make
, I went with him down to
you up here. You were bleeding from
a wound at the back of your bead, and
quite senseless. Everybody In the
house was alarmed, and one of the
women fetched Dr. Tbnrlow. At first
we thought you bad been struck by
a burglar; but Dr. Thurlow disproved
that by your wound, which be has
shown was caused by a fall. Why
you went Into the crypt we know; but
exactly how you came to fall as you
did you must tell us, If yon can, when
you get quite, well.”
“Why was It I went into the crypt,
do you think 1"
"We suppose you heard the same
noises that old John beard, and went
downstairs to ascertain the cause,
la strange tbat both of you should be
so mistaken. Nobody had broken Into
the bouse; all the outer doors were
fast, and nothing Is missing. One cir
cumstance none of us can understand
la bow a certain lantern came to be
lying by your side; It belongs to the
stable, and I have never known It to
be brought Into tho bouse. But I am
talking too much; Dr. Thurlow will be
hack In a minute and lecture me for
disobeying him.”
“Your conclusions are as I thought
they would be. Has Dr. Thurlow
gone borne?" 1
"No; be Is with John.”
“Why with John!”
“The old man Is very 111; be has not
yet recovered from his fright at find
ing you as he did.”
, "Ah! I have much to tell you which
should make 70U angry with me for
concealing It from you so long; but
you are so good and gentle with your
foollsb boy that I don't suppose you
wHl be.”
'My Ernest would have togfrhverv
differently from anything I have ever
known of him to excite my anger,’ 1
declared this best of fathers. "I have
nothing to forgive; or, If I have, I for
give yon with my whole heart before
I know what Is the offense you charge
yourself with."
At this point our colloquy was Inter
rupted by the entry of Dr. Tburlow.
He stayed but a very little while, how
ever, and having expressed bis satis
faction with the condition of both
bis patients, and promising to call
again In the evening, he took his de
parture. As soon os the sound of bis
footsteps In the corridor had died
away, I resumed the conversation
with my father.
"Tell die what are the matters }
have raved about since that night In
the crypt,” I said. "It may be that
you know something of what I would’
tell you.”
My fatber's face relaxed Into a smile,
and his eyes twinkled In a manner pe
culiar to him In moments of amuse
ment.
Ob, we will tell you about tbat In
years to come.”
What was It I talked about?"
asked again.
“Many things. I don't remember a
tenth of them.”
'Tell me a few that you do remem
ber,” I urged.
About vast stores of gold coins
being stolen from this bouse—about
the beauty of your aunt Gertrude'i
sister—about the Rev. Mr. Price—and
a lot of similar nonsense which I may
perhaps recollect more of by-and-by.”
“No, father; It was not nonsense I
talked about, hut sober fact; though
maybe I didn’t know what I was say
ing at the time. In very truth, as true
as you are listening to my words, you
have quite recently been robbed of
an immense treasure in gold.” And,
raising myself on my elbow, I ac
quainted him aa clearly and briefly
as I could with the Information I had
obtained from Roger Trueman's Rec
ord, and of my consequent action and
Its result
My father, who soon became deeply
Interested, suffered me to continue my
narrative without Interruption. When
bad ceased speaking he made no re
mark, but rested his face upon his
bands and appeared lost In thought.
After waiting some time, and finding
that my father exhibited no sign of
remarking upon my story, I asked him
If he did not now believe that he had
been recently robbed of a quarter of
million sequins.
T believe I have been robbed of so
much treasure,” he assented; “but I
hope and pray It was not recent."
'Wbat an extraordinary wish!” I
exclaimed, astonished. “Surely, the
chances of recovering the treasure are
much greater If It was lately stolen
than they would be If It was taken
away years ago.”
Do you know, Ernest,” said my
father, appearing not to notice my re
mark; "your uncle Sam was talking
to me about tbat very treasure the
first evening you saw him here.”
Then It* existence was known to
you both?”
'Not exactly. It was known to all
his family that Roger Trueman—Roger
the Renegade, or Roger the Alchemist,
as be was variously called—brought
with him from Turkey an Immense
treasure of gold and jewels; but none
of usevtr knew wbat finally became of
then# and for more than a hundred
year* nobody has troubled to inquire.
But I have always understood that my,
great-grandfather spent years In a
fruitless search for It, which I suppose
baa deterred, his successors from wast
ing their time In the same way.”
“What was It unde Bam said to yen
about the treasure tbs evening I first
saw hlmY*
“Tbat be believed it was concealed
somewhere in Holdenhurat Hall, and
might yet be found.”
“Then why do you hope that the
robbery is not recent?”
“Don’t ask me.” exclaimed my
father, starting up excitedly; “I hate
myself for my present thoughts. Ten
me where I will find that old manu
script; I will fetch It dhd read It here.”
My father walked to the other side
of the room and took the book out of
a drawer which I had Indicated. I
had never seen him so strangely moved
before. That he should be disturbed
by the Information just imparted , to
blm was only wbat I had expected;
nevertheless his reception of my rev
elation surprised me. Though greatly
concerned with the matter, and evi
dently considering all I had said. It
was plain tbat measures for the rccov-.
cry of the sequins engaged very little
of his attention; but I refrained for the
present from remarking on that cir
cumstance, and remained still and
quiet while be sat-by my bed and read
his ancestor's Record. At last be laid
aside the book with a sigh, and rising
from his chair paced about the room
thoughtfully. After some minutes he
suddenly paused before me, saying—
“I wish yon were well enough to ac
company me to tbe crypt”
I assured my father of my ability to
do so without danger or even Incon
venience, and was about to get up
when he stopped me.
'Not until Dr. Tburlow bas seen you
again, and then only with his con
sent.”
'What nonsensef I exclaimed,
Springing out of bed: “Because I
bare been disappointed and bare
knocked my head on a stone pavement
yon want to make an invalid of me.
Surely two days la enough to spend
In bed talking nonsense, especially at
such a time as tbls, when there Is so
much to do and consider;” and despite
my father’s protests I hastened to dress
myself, assuming a smile and talking
cheerfully all tbe while. But the per
formance cost me a tremendous effort,
for I felt wretchedly weak and 111.
Well. I suppose It must be so. then.”
consented.my father, when he per
ceived tbat my obstinacy was not to
be overcome; “It will be best to make
a careful examination of tbe place
before your uncle comes.”
“Before my undo comes!" I ecboed.
Is uncle Bam coming?” ,•
“Yes; to-morrow morning. I tele
graphed to him yesterday. Informing
him of your accident, and he replied
that he would come down on Thurs
day.”
Ab!” I said, “be little knows what
a story we have to tell him.”
I bope be does not, I am sure,” said
my father sadly.
"How - strangely you talk, father!
Surely you don’t mean to Imply tbat
your brother has directly or Indirect
ly stolen those sequins out of your
house! I would stake my life upon
uncle Sam's honor; and as for bis
wealth, liberality and ability, you
would not easily match them in an
other man.”
To my Inexpressible surprise and
pain, my father Ignored my question,
merely remarking that he hoped no
hirm might come of my going down
Into the crypt, and that I must certain
ly be back Ip my room again before
Dr. Thurlow returned.
It was an hour past noon when we
entered tbe crypt, my father walking
flrst holding a lamp, for the place was
as dark by day as by night. After
pausing for a moment to observe a
crimson stain which marked tho spot
where I bad fallen, we proceeded at
once to the Abbot's Cell—for my
father, when he assisted In bringing
me np out of the crypt, and again
when he Went there with Dr. Thur
low to explain to him la what cir
cumstances I had been found, had not
penetrated ao far.
The crypt’s 'tore of surprises was
not yet exhausted, whatever might
be the case with its sequins, for walk
ing up to the Abbot's Cell I saw with
astonishment that It was closed by tbe
brick screen as when my attention
was flrst called to It The bricks bad
been carefully replaced one upon an
other precisely as I had found them
on Monday night, or If there was any
difference, they were built up some
what more neatly; for notwithstand
ing the aid of my father. It took longer
to effect an entry Into the cell than
when I was unassisted. On reaching
the interior we found that the candle
and matches had been taken away,
and the empty chest upon which I
had seen them vas placed with tbe
other empty chests. AU else in the
cell was unchanged.
My father spoke few words during
this Investigation, and appeared great
ly depressed, though, so far as I could
make out he cared but little for the
lose he bad sustained. He agreed with
me (for Indeed the evidences of It
were undeniable) that the contents
of the chests bad been abstracted quite
recently—probably only a few days
before.
We left the crypt as we had entered
It, my father locking the door after
him and putting the key Into his
pocket. Coming out of tbe stillroom
Into the hall we noticed that tbe front
door was opened ss widely os possible
and that eight strong men were with
much difficulty bringing in upon rollers
an Immense steel safe of enormous
weight tbe secure receptacle for our
family papers which uncle ««m had
promised to my father.
To bo continued.
A DISCIPLINE TEST.
NGLISH annals show many
fine examples of discipline
In disaster at sea, and both
tbe army and tbe navy
share in the credit of them.
Most persons remember the
magnificent courage and coolness dis
played by tbe men of the Ill-fated Vic
toria, which was rammed by the Cam
perdown In 1803. Many . remember,
too, how tbe model of tbe vessel at tbe
World's Fair In Chicago was draped
with black when tbe news came, and
how for long afterwards tbe great
crowds of Americans tbat filed by
talked little and gased gravely, the
women often with dim eyes, In tribute
to the tragic and noble page newly
written In the history of the mother
race. Lord Wolseley, In his recent au-
tohlgrnphy, tells how be once came
near sharing such a fate with bis men
on board the Transit, bound for India,
when sbe struck a rock In a dead calm.
He was a young lieutenant tben, but
his vivid recollection of the event has
not waned In nearly half a century.
“The bugles sounded our regimental
call, and we nil ran down to our men,
who were still below, cleaning up after
their breakfast. All the troops were
carried on the main deck except one
company, which was on the deck be
low ond situated well forward. It was
a horrible quarter, below tbe Water
level, and lit only by one solitary can
dle astern. Each company took It for
a week In turn, and It was my com
pany’s luck to be the unfortunate oc
cupants when the ship struck. Upon
reaching that dreadful lower region, I
formed tbe men, half on one side, half
on the opposite side of the deck.
“There we stood In deadly silence,
and I know not for bow long. Tbe
abominable candle In the lantern splat
tered and went out. We were In al
most absolute darkness, our only glim
mer of light coming through a small
hatchway which was reached by a
narrow Indder. The ship began to sink
by the stern, so It was evident to all
that we bung on a rock forward. The
angle of our deck with the sea level
became gradually greater until at last
we had to hold on to the sides of our
dark submarine prison. My predomln-
ant feeling was of horrid repugnance
to the possibility, which became tbe
probability, of being drowned In the
dark, like n rat In a trap. I should
have liked to have a swim for my life
at the last, the supreme moment; but
that would be Impossible, If the abom
inable ship should slip off tbe rock.
'If Greece must perish, I Thy will
obey,
But let me perish In the face of day.'
“The only aperture to the main deck
was very small, and most eyes were
kept riveted upon It. I am sure every
man now alive who was there must
shudder as he thinks of what seemed
to us the Intermediate time wo were in
that pit. Every minute seemed an
hour; hut at last a face appeared at tbe
aperture, and we were ordered on
deek.”
All found refuge on a coral Island,
whence In due time another vessel
carried them to their destination; and
the future field marshal proceeded with
lighter kit, but the richer for a
precious experience In tbe value of dis
cipline.
SAVED BY INSUBORDINATION.
Reuben PlnUhnm, n native of Nan
tucket, made his flrst trip as third lien,
tenant on the ship rotomac, which
crossed the North Pacific, a region little
known to naval vessels In the early
thirties. Plnkham had been on several
whaling vessels, nnd was familiar with
thoso waters. The author of “The Isl-
nnd of Nantucket” saya that one day,
near sunset, he hod the watch, while
the commodore was pacing up and
down the deck.
Suddenly Plnkham gave the order,
“Man the weather braces!”
-“What’s that for?” asked the com
modore.
"Wo shall have wind In a moment."
The commodore went to the lee roll
end scanned the sea and sky. “I see
no signs of wind,” he returned. .“Let
the men leave the braces.”
The crew dropped the ropes.
“Keep hold of the braces, every man
of you!" called out Plnkham, and tbe
men resumed their grasp. The com
modore flushed with anger and ex-
dnlmcd In peremptory tones:
“Let the men leave the braces!’.' -and
again the braces were dropped.
“Don’t any of yon dare to drop tbe
ropes!” shouted Plnkham, shaking bis
trumpet at the crew, who once more
took hold. Just tben the wind dropped
entirely; not a breath stirred.
“Taut, taut! Haul, all of you.”’ called
Plnkham, and the ponderous yards
swung to reversed position. The wind
came out of the opposite quarter and
struck the ship like a sledge-hammer.
The vessel staggered, shook the spray
from her bows and dashed ahead. The
commodore disappeared Into his cabin
without saying a word.
Presently he sent tbe first lieutenant
to relieve Plnkham, requesting to see
the latter Immediately. When Plnk
ham entered tbe cabin the commodore
said:
“I consider that I am Indebted to you
for all our lives; but I will tell you
frankly. If that wind hadn't come I
should have put you in Irons in two
minutes.”
THE VALOR OF BOYS.
The Confederate “Boy Company,”
moat members of which were so young
ao to require the permission of their
parents In order to enlist, bears a brave
record in tbe annals of tbe Civil War.
At first, camp life seemed a new and
exciting game to the young fellows,
who even found drilling-enjoyable.
Later, when their eyes were opened
to tbe sternest side of war, when their
numbers were lessened and their
strength weakened, they carried to the
battlefield tbe same boyish enthusiasm,
and fought for their losing cause with
thk same courage and ardor that had
marked their entrance into tbe service.
From tbe camp at Manassas, the
night before their flrst battle, they
sent a message to General Lee:
"Tell Uncle Robert not to forget our
battalion to-morrow!”
The battalion was not forgotten and
It fought plucklly and well.
After the Battle of Bharpsburg Gen
eral Lee reviewed the Boy Company.
Its ranks were broken and wearied,
and many names were missing from
the roll call. Since the bantering mes
sage of Manasaas the youthful soldiers
bad learned the meaning of war; they
had taken part In fierce bloodshed,
and seen their friends and comrades
fall beside them. They were tired from
long marches and privations, and the
General's eye moistened as be looked
at the slender forms arrayed before
blm.
'Boys,” he said, "you are only boys,
but to-day you have been wbere only
men dare to got Now every man of
yon who la willing to return to the
battlefield step two paces forward.”
Without a moment's hesitation and
as if moved by one Impulse, tbe young
ranks stepped forward. Tbe Boy Com
pany, no longer excited by tbe romance
of war, but understanding well wbat It
was taking upon Itself, had responded
1 body to the General’s calL—
Youth’s Companion.
BESIEGED BY RATS.
A story which recalls Bishop Hatto
and bis round tower Is told, by a- cor
respondent of tbe New York Press. A
Mr. Hardy bad purchased au old
slaughter house In a New Jersey town
with the Intention of converting It Into
a machine shop. He went to the place
to make some repairs, and was there
when a heavy storm arose.
Busy with bis work on the ground
floor of tbe building be paid little heed
to tbe storm. Presently he saw a big
rat scurry across the floor from a cel
larway. This rat was followed by an
other and another, and tben they came
In droves. Investigation revealed the
fact that the flood waters were rnnnlng
into the cellar, and the rats were seek
ing safety. ' .
Suddenly the man realised that the
room was alive with rats. They
poured up the stairway, clambering
over one another In their attempt to
escape from the wafer, and squealing
noisily. Some attacked Mr. Hardy and
bit bla feet and ankles. He seised an
Iron shovel which lay on tbe floor, and
began to lay about him. If be desisted
the rate returned to the attack. Tired
of bis fight, he then tried to leave the
house, but to bis dismay found the
water was deep around It.
With difficulty he beat the rats away
and leaped to a stairway leading to a
top floor. When he reached tbe story
above be found the rats were there be.
fore him. Hq killed a score or more
and then stood at tbe head of tbe stair
way and beat back the horde tbat tried
to come up.
“It was my life or theirs,” said Mr.
Hardy, "and I kilted rats till my
strength was exhausted.”
For several hours he was a prisoner.
Then the flood receded somewhat with
the tide, and he went down stabs, ran
through the room wbere the rats were
still scurrying about In great numbers,
and got away through water up to bis
waist
UN INTELLIGENT COAT.
FOUGHT FOR LIFE ON A ROOF.
A desperate struggle took place upon
the roof of the Agnews Insane Asylum,
San Jose, Cal., between Charles M.
Gardener, a patient, and J. Spaulding,
an attendant For a time It looked as
thought the men would roll to the
ground, live stories below. To save
himself from a frightful death, Spauld
ing was obliged to knock Gardener un
conscious. As the attendants came
from dinner Gardener was seen stand
ing upon tbe roof of the asylum evi
dently about to descend the Are escape.
The patient had escaped from his room.
Spaulding went up to take Gardener
down. Gardener refused to descend
and grappled with Spaulding. Tbe In
sane man tried to throw Spaulding
from the roof. When Spaulding saw he
could not handle tbe man and was
about to fall he struck Gardener a blow
over the eye, rendering him uncon
scious. Ropes and pulleys were se
cured and Gardener was lowered
through a trapdoor In the roof to the
floor below. Gardener was formerly a
deputy sheriff of the county and later
served In the same capacity In the
State of Washington. He was one of
the posse that ran down Tracy, the
outlaw. Gardener Is supposed to hare
fired the shot which wounded tbe out
law and which caused tbe latter to
commit suicide.
John Dudley, manager of the sheep
yards In Morris, ten miles west of Kan
sas City, on the Atchison, Topeka and
Santa Fe Railway, uses a goat as a
bell wether that Is known by all tho
train crews from the Missouri River to
La: Junta.
BUI la the name of the animal, and
be does work that two men and a tribe
of boys could not perform. If a car of
sheep Is to be unloaded Bill Is sent In
to lead them out. The door Is opened
and be crowds his way In among the
blinking sheep. Slowly, and without
creating any excitement, he makes hla
way along the walls of the car. The
Inquisitive sheep follow In his wake.
Along the side of the car to the end,
and along that wall he makes his way,
and so on until he gets back to the
door, where he makes bis egress, the
sheep following. By his leadership a
procession Is formed, and within three
minutes the car is empty. When it is
desired to load a car Bill Is sent luto
the pen. “Go in there, Bill," is the
command given. Into the car he goes
and soon both decks are loaded, first
one and then the other. It Is a trick to
get out without the sheep following,
but BUI Is “onto” bis Job. nnd at the
proper moment be jumps through a
narrow opening left for him, and an
attendant quickly shuts tbe door after
him.
During tbe flood Bill nearly Iosi bis
Ufe. He was put Into the lower deck
of a sheep car. The flood was soon up
to that level, and Mr. Dudley lifted
him into the top deck. Still the waters
rose. Tbe end of a big log floated Into
the upper deck, where Bill Stood up to
his shoulders In water. He thought
the log was something to walk on and
he made the venture, only to be tilted
by bis own weight into the water.
“Get In there, Bill,” commanded his
friend Dudley, who was coming in a
skiff, and Bill scrambled bnck. After
ward be was taken Into the skill nnd
carried to dry land. — Kansas City
Times.
Wants Birds of Prey.
A London ornithologist bns a plan
for getting rid of the overabundance
of pigeons that brood in the tops of
public buildings In that city. He
thinks It cruel to trap or shot them,
so he would reinstate In the parks of
London the once numerous kite, or, as
he Is called In the north, "the put-
tock.” Once this hlrd was quite com
mon about Covent Garden nnd If he
could be Induced to return he would
tbln out the pigeons and at the same
time afford Londoners an opportuni
ty for observing a display of natural
falconry that would be a novelty. The
ornithologist would also have jays nnd
magpies rehabilitated,. so that they
might keep down tbe sparrows nnd
other small birds tbat threaten to be
come a nuisance.
PLUCKY ALPINIST.
The Frankfurt Alpinist, Hugo My-
Uus, who made winter ascents last
year of two of the most dangerous nnd
difficult Swiss mountains—the Fins-
teraarborn and the Jungfrau—succeed
ed, a few weeks ago. In reaching the
summit of Mont Blanc (15.78t feet).
*lth three guides, but at the cost of
one of his feet and a finger. Up to an
altitude of 14,170 feet skis were used;
thence the ascent was on Ice, and so
difficult that tbe party bad to stop to
rest every two or three steps. The
top was reached at S p. m„ but It was
so cold tbat the party remained only
fifteen minutes.
A O.p la the laagaegv.
"I have another complaint against
the English tongue," began the Liter
ary Man. ‘There are a good many
gaps in It, of course, but It seems to me
tbat tbe most absurd Is that a lan
guage which has a dozen current
names for drink bas none for .the
young woman whom a man Is engaged
to marry. Most of the terms that
might be suggested are the basest of
coin — ‘best girl,’ ‘Intended,’ aud so
forth! We have to fall back weakly
on the French fiancee. And yet the
relation Is English and American
enough, I think, for us to have a word
of our own. Of course, there Is
‘sweetheart,’ but that seems to linve
dropped out of use altogether.”—Phila
delphia Press.-
VpblU Walk For Health.
The best way to get oxygen Into
the blood Is to walk a mile uphill two
or three times a day, keeping the
mouth closed and expanding the nos
trils. This beats all other methods.
During such a walk every drop of
blood In the body will make the cir
cuit of the lungs nnd stream, red and
pure, back to Its appointed work of
cleansing the repairing worn-out tis
sues. The uphill walk, as a prophy
lactic and curative measure in many
chronic ailments dependent upon n
weak condition of the heart, lungs
ond blood vessels, would prove Inval
uable. Medical Brief.
Rand Miners.
Sir Gorfrey Langdon, South African
commissioner for native affairs, re
cently stated before the legislative
council that the native miners on the
Rand were “as comfortable and well-
looked after as the miners in Cumber
land or in any part of England.” Sir
George Farrar, commissioner for nn-
tlve affairs in the Transvaal, reports
to tbe legislative council that the na
tive mortality in the Rand mines
from November, 1902, to July, 1003,
was 70.0 per thousand.
Honduras Draft Animals.
Draft animals In Honduras are
mules, asses, oxen and horses. These
animals are all of a diminutive tyjfe
and serve very well for the carrying
of freight, but for the purpose of
hauling carriages and wagons these
little beasts scarcely do; and yet they
carry packs of 200 pounds over the
mountain trails and through roaring
streams.
OsKsa OparaUrcs.
There are more than 17,000 machine
tending operatives In Lowell, Mass*
earing tor 838,000 spindles and earn-
1®* «T«r *500.000 a month la wage*.
.Town Built Over a Coal Mina.
Many buildings In Motherwell, Scot
land, look like the leaning tower of
Pisa. The little town la built over the
side of a coal mine. Some houses
have collapsed, business la at a stand
still, and the town will probably soon
be deserted.
Army Maneuvers by Ball!
During tbe German army maneuvers
there were moved over one railroad lu
two days, without suspending Its regu-/
lar traffic, 56,000 men, B200 horses, 4
1 828 wagons and 690 tons of baggage.
