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20 THE CLEVERNESS OF DAN*. i _____ t By Seumas MacManus ("Mac”). Anthor of "Through the Turf Stttoke,” Etc. Copyright.. 1900, by Seumus MacManus. The cliverness of Dan there was no cornin' up till. Like Jimmy Creedon's kickin' gun, he banged all ever went afore him, an’ all that came afther likewise. There was wanst an' there was a poor sthrugglin' carpenther come Op to Dub lin lookin’ for work, an’ put an adver tisement in the papers to that effect. The leadin’ butcher in Dublin was at that very time goin’ to fit up new prim ises an’ move in til them bekase his thrade had become too great for the oul' stand. He was a designin’, cute vagabone, this butcher, always thryin’ to get the upflbr hand iv every wan he done business with. An' if they wftr poor, so much the better; he could worry them then as he wished an’ laugh at them for their pains if they tried to take the law iv him. he havin’ the long purse, could let them have law till they cried ’'Enough!" Well, this fella wanted, as 1 said, new’ prim ises fitted up, an’ he was just then turnin’ over in his mind all the schaymes he could think iv for gettin' them fitted free by fair dint iv rog uery. So when he sees the poor sthrange carpenter's advertisement in the papers, he whistled till himself an' sint for him. An' he made a conthract with the poor carpenther for him to take the whole doin' iv the work at twinty poun’ (which wasn’t near jus tice), an’ have it finished be a sartin' day, for a lump sum. Writin's was dhrawn up atween them then an’ there an’ signed. Well, an’ good, the carpenther W'ent to W’ork on the premises at wanst an’ wrought like a black every day from early mornin’ till late at night, an’ him as happy as a king, thinkin’ iv his high good luck, and the fine money he was earnin' for the wife an’ the weans, away at home. But, behold ye, his employer had taken right good care to give him more to do than he could do In contracted time, an’ tuk more nor SO poun’s worth iv work out iv him. an' likewise didn’t hurry him, so that it Was two days, or maybe three, after time when the work was done, an’ the carpenther applied for his pay. “Get out, ye scoundhril. ye!” says his em ployer. “Geet out iv here, and go about yer business and thank God that I’m lenient enough to let ye off wdthout suin’ ye for breach iv conthract, ye bare-faced rogue, ye!” The poor carpenther, he hadn't three pence in his pocket, an’ he meandhered off, up an’ down the cowl’ sthreets iv Dublin, with a lump iv grief in *he throat iv him, an’ he cryin' inside hts heart for Mary an’ the childre at home. When'he was tired enough to dhrop he sat down on a doorstep, an' the lady iv the house, seein’ him, come out an lis tened till his story. She tuk him intil the house an' after she'd made him put a hearty male undher his westcoat, give him a letter to Counselor Dan O’Connell, an' tould him to lose no time till he’d be with Dan an’ have his ad vice on the matther. “If there’s one man in the three kingdoms,” says she, “fit to get ye square with the vlllian that chaited ye, it's Dan.” The poor fella thanked her with all his heart, an’ was with Dan afore he had his mouth wdped. Dan heerd his story from begtnnin’ to end without sayin’ a word, an’ then tuk five minutes more in thinkin’—lyin’ back in his chair with the eyes in him shut. Then he jumped till his feet, an’ takin’ his hat an’ stick, says he, “Come with me!” The poor fellow didn’t know ■what Dan's game was, but j he knew enough lv Dan to ax ! no queskins, but put every trlst in lm, Dan tuk him up wan street an’ down the nixt till they reached the street in which the butcher had his malt shop. “Take notice,” says Dan, | says he, now, "iv what ye’ll see in his ■windy as we pass.” Past - the mait shop both iv them marches, an’ there was j the carcass iv a fine sheep, the butcher was after dhressin’, hung up be its heels in the windy. When they got around the next corner Dan halted, and he axed him if he had taken notice. “Yis,” says the lad; “there was the carcass of a brave sheep there..” "Right,” says Dan. So then Dan be gins an’ opened up till him a very clev er plan entirely he had in his head. An’ the lad, for all that, he was good natured and simple-hearted, was cute enough after a fashion, an’ he tuk in all Dan sayed, and guaranteed to Dan tht he’d act his part iv it to the let ter. Then Dan sent him back down the street again. The man walked boldly lntil the butcher’s shop, an’ afther tak ln’ a vtzay iv the sheep that was strung in the windy, lookin’ it ’round an’ ’round with the eye half closed, like a man that knew all ever was known or could be known about mait, he sthrikes it a tip with the little rod he carried in his han’, and says he to the butcher: "How much a pound?” says he, “would ye be afther askin’ for the lit tle pig?” “For what?” says the butcher, taken aback. “For the little pig—for this little pig,” says he, tapping it again wdth his rod. "The sheep, ye mane—ye gommachan. ye!” says the butcher with disgust at the fella's ignorance. "The sheep I don't mane,” says the lad, "but the pig—this little pig here.” “Aeh, ye Ignorant bosthune,” says the butcher, "don’t you see that’s a sheep?” "Come, now.” says he, "none iv yer thrirks upon thravelers, if ye plaise. If I'm from the country atself," says he. “I can know a pig when I see wan. i . D n O’Connell, the great Irish i tutor and liberator. There's pigs there as well as in Dub lin.” •’Faith," says the butcher, lookin' pointed at him, "I don't doubt your word there,” an’ then the butcher him ; self an’ four or five cronies that wor I in swappin’ gossip with him, went in- I til regular fits. "Come, come,” says the lad. “I didn't come here to be made game iv. Tell me if ye plaise, the price iv this pig be the poun'.” i "Ye know-nothin’ omadhdwn, ye!” says the butcher, "didn’t I tell ye it I was a sheep, and not a pig?" “Nobbut ye confounded know-nothin' I omadhawn yerself,” says the lad, ap i pearin' to get warm on it, "didn't I tell ye it was a pig, an’ not a sheep?” “Well, the butcher and his cronies ' went from wan fit of laughin’ intil an : other at this. I "I wisht,” said the lad, when they got through, "I wisht," says he, "when ! ye will show yer ignorance that I could make ye pay for it, be mains of a bait.” j "A bait!” says the butcher. “Where would the lakes iv you get money for baitin’? I wisht,” says he, “I could make you pay for your ignorance be | a bait, if ye w r or only worth tuppence- I ha’penny, which you aren’t.” An’ with that, out from his breast pocket the lad pulls a little bag wih 30 sovereigns an' a running sthring in ! it, which Dan O’Connell had handed i to him for the purpose at the corner; I an' he counted out the thirty gold pieces. "Tha's some little savin’s i’ mine,” says he. "Are ye able to cover it?" Faith the cheatery eye iv the butch er glistened, an’ he bounced away an’ in a crack was back again with his own bag, counted out 30 gold sover eigns, too —an' placed beside the other 30. “Now,” says the lad, "who's to be stakeholder, and who's to be judge?” The butcher axed him if he had any objections to wan iv the lads that was standin’ there actin’, "Why," says the man, "I haven't no objection in the wide wurrl’ to any iv yer friends— they’re daicent men an' honest,l’m sartin sure,an’ would wrong no man—but,” says he, “with all that, I think it would be a sort iv more sat isfactory to all parties consarned, to leaive the matter to some parson who hasn’t been listenin’ to the dispute, an’ doesn’t know either iv us.” "Well an’ good,” says the butcher, who was so sure iv the big haul he was goin’ to have off the poor man that THAT ANIMAL, SIR, IS A PIG. he could afford to be generous. “Well an’ good," says he, “what plaises |you ’ll plaise me.” ' / “Then suppose we lave it to the first comes in?” says the lad. “Agreed!" says the butcher. "An’ here,” says the lad, as he look ed out iv the door, "here's a very gran’ Jintleman entirely comin.' ” An’ the nixt minnlt Dan O'Connell himself, an’ he whistlin’ like a lark, an’ twirlin' his stick, comes steppin' intil the shop. The butcher an' all iv them tuk off their hats to Counselor O'Connell, an’ he smiled on them all, an’ bid them all time o’ day. namin’ them by name, in the winnin' way that Dan could with every sowl, big or small, in Dublin; an' he even sayed “Good morntn’, sthrang er," to the lad, an’ axed how was the crops lookin’ down the country, an' what were they thinkin’ if the chances iv repeal now; an’ then he told the butcher that Nancy, the housekeeper, had axed him step in here on his way to the Four Coorts, an’ prdher a cut iv his primest mait to be sent aroun' that evenin’. “I'm honored be the ordher, counsel lor," says the butcher. “An’ if ye plaise, there’s wan little case ye’d oblige us be decidin' afore ye go to the Four Coorts—if ye’d be so good.” “Why,” says Dan, satin’ himself, “it'll give me every pleasure. What’s the case, pray?" The butcher put intil Dan’s hands the 60 sovereigns to hold, and then axed him to step forrid to the windy an’ view the baste that was hangin’ there. Dan. he stepped forrid an’ looked it up an' down, and handled it, An’ “Why, I see npthin’ wrong with this animal," says Dan. • “It isn't that," says the butcher, but the qpeskin I want to put to ye is, What kind iv an animal is that?” “Why, a good animal,"''says (Dan. lookin’ round as if he’d like to see the man that dared say otherwise—“a very good animal, indeed.” “Yis, but,” says the butcher, "tvhat I maint to ax is. What animal is it? Whether it is hog, dog or Jackass?” "Come now," says Dan, says he, ‘is it wantin' to make fan i' me yen are?' ” “O, no, no, counselor," says he, “upon me varacity we aren't. We're in dead earnest, an’ there's that bait iv :!0 poun’ a side as to what animal It is.” “Now, now,” Dan says, lookin' from the baste to the butcher an’ from the butcher back to the baste again, “I know yez must be makin’ fun.” “The devil a morsel o' fun,” says the butcher. “An' sure,” says Dan, says he, touch in' the carcase, "there’s no man or his mother from here to Japan an' back again but knows that animal!" "No man or his mother, exceptin' an ignorant gommaehan." says the butch er. “An' we've got that gommaehan. Water I ■ Bugs, Croton Bugs, and all E 1 other V&nnln ...by using- J Stearns’ Electric / Rat and Roach Paste I I cu. a box at druffirmU and grocers Q ff or eeut direct prepaid- Kfi R Stearns* Electric Paste Cos., H THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 4. 1901. Ask For L OLD QUAKER A 1 rye r AND GET THE BEST. B Oo Mi< t til tlrii-clui places. &*£ SMITH BROS., }W Savannah, Ga. SQL There he is,” says he, indycatin’ the sthranger. "He'll not give in till what the animal is at all, at all, an’ we’re goin’ to make him pay sass for teach in’ him. It's left to you, air, now, to tell him.” "Well, you are a gommachan,” says Dan, says he, turnin' an’ takin' a vlzzy iv the sthranger. "Ye're a gomma chan, an’, with ail respects, a highly ignorant gommachan, an’ richly de sarve to lose yer money if ye don’t know a pig when ye see it. That ani-. mal, sir, is a pig!” The sthranger shuk the dust iv Dub lin from his heels that night; an’ it was him was the thankful man to Dan O’Connell, an’ happy man when he counted down 30 good sovereigns on his own table at home to his wife the very next night. But a long sight abler an’ better it was that Dan wrought on the Oxfoord professors, makin’ hares iv them, an’ outwittin' them so that the people aren't done laughing at them till this day. Ye see, it was this way; After our great college in Maynooth was built an' started, the big colleges in England, purticklarly Oxfoord, was never tired iv throwin’ all sorts iv ugly disparage ments on our college, an’ they sayed it would never come to nothin’. Well, Maynooth was maybe 30 years or more going when one summer there was some iv the Maynooth professors was over to see London; an’ as they wor on the groun' they dhropped in to see Ox foord college. The laist honor the Ox foord professors could do was to give a dinner in their honor—and they did that. A rousin’ fine spread it was, with the best an' dearest of all aitables an' dhrtnkables —maits an' wines; an' all the most learned gentlemen In Lon don, too, was invited to the dinner. But, when the dhrink begun to go to the heads iv the Englishmen they be gan braggin’ iv Oxfoord college, an' lastin' up to the Maynooth professors that they hadn’t nothin’ in Ireland to touch up to it. Of course, the May nooth men had to stan’ up for their counthry an' their college, an’ tell them back again that there was more lamin’ in the little finger lv any wan Maynooth man than in the whole body iv the biggest man they could choose in Oxfoord. Wan word borrowed an other; an' argument grew hot till the end iv it was the Maynooth professors riz to their feet an’ threw down a chal lenge for the five picked men, the most larned an’ knowledgable in Oxfoord college, to enter intil a contest with the professors iv Maynooth—an' then they left the room. Well, to be sure, the Maynooth men had no sooner thrown down this challenge than they wor sorry for it, bekase they knew well there was men in Oxfoord college that ganged the wurrl’ an' couldn’t be puz zled in any wan subject under the sun, no matter what it was. An’ more, be the same token, ye may be perfectly sartin the Oxfoord men was dancin’ with delight, an' lost no time takin’ up the challenge, an' fixin’ a day an' date for sendin' their men over to the con test. All the larned men if Maynooth be gan studyin' night an’ day; but they felt in a pickle over It. An’ the nearer the big day dhrew, the worse they felt. The whole think was advartised over the three kingdoms, an’ through out France an' ivery other larned country, an’ the whole wurrl’ was waitin’ to hear iv the result if the great contest. The mornin’ afore the big day the most larned an’ ablest of all the Maynooth professors got up from the table an' Hung his book as far as he could from him. "It's no use,” says he, "it's all no use! We aren't the matches for the Oxfoord men. an' we'll be disgraced an’ our college an’ coun thry 'ill be disgraced, in the face tv the wurrl’!” An’ ivery other professor flung his book from him, too, an' give in: "It’s no use; It’s no use! We’re ruined an' disgraced. An’ they sat down, nursin’ their knees an’ waitin’ for the morra. The professor who was mostly to blame for givin' the foolish challenge tuk It sorely to heart. He went mum pin' an’ mopin’ about the house an' not knowin’ what to do at all. at all, to save them all from disgrace. Like a flash a bright thought sthruck him— an’ “Boys." says he. "why mayn't we ax Dan O’Connell’s help?” The wan looked up at him an’ the other looked tip at him—an’— “Dan O’Connell!" says they, that way, "Botheration! They’d floore him out Iv a Tteadin’-me Daisy!" • "I don’t main that,” says he; “but ye know' there niver yet was a corner so tight that Dan couldn’t find a sure way out iv." Faith, they began to reflect on this, an’ wan sayed this an’ another sayed •A Reading-Made-Easy, the first hook put in a child’s hands in the old schools. that, but In the en' they decided that it mightn’t be any harm to give Dan a trial, anyhow. In post haste—though be that time it was the middle iv the night— Into Dublin the professor posted an’ knocked up Dan out Iv presence was required at Maynooth In stantly on a case iv life an’ daith—an’ hois'ed Dan off with him to the col lege. They give in their case to Dan, an’ axed him to rack his brain, an’ if, be hook or be crook, he could show them how to save the honor iv Maynooth college, they wouldn’t never forget it to him. "Upon my faith,” says Dan, says he, shakin’ his head when he heerd them out, "yez is fitted intil a purty close fix.” "Dan,” says they, "for heaven’s sake, can ye get us out iv it?” "Give me,” says Dan, says he, “two hours, two ounces iv tibacky, a jug iv whisky an’ a quiet room —an’ at the en’ iv that I’ll tell ye whether it's in the power i’ man to help ye out or not.” He got as he axed, an’ all Maynooth sat down outside his doore, watchin’ the way-be-the-wall till the two hours was up. An’ at two hours to the very second the doore opens an’ Dan step3 out. "Well?” they all shouts at a breath. "Well,” says Dan, "there’s a chance for yez—a chance." “Thank God," says they, "even for a chance. What is it?” "Produce,” says Dan, says he, "yer best Greek scholar, yer best Haybrew scholar, an’ yer best Sangscrit scholar.” They done this. “Now,” says Dan. “produce me three shoots (suits) iv the raggedest work man’s clothes ye can get.” In short time they had these to the fore. "Now,” says Dan to the three schol ars, "get intil that room, peel off yez an’ dive intil these garments as fast as if the divil was followin’ yez,” for the time wos now gettin’ short. When they were decorated in these robes Dan ordhtred them step out with him on the Dublin road, an’ out they stepped. "As I come dhrivin’ to this place at var'us times,” says he, "I used to no tice three stone br’akers at three dif ferent crossroads. We’re goin’ to see them.” They reached the first stone br’aker, a mile from the college, an’ Dan or dhered him off the heap an’ put nis hammer intil the hand iv the Sangscrit scholar, placed him on the heap, an’ sayed a word in his ear. “An’ now,” says he, "bang away like the hammers iv Newry." On he went with the other two, an’ placed the Haybrew scholar on the second heap iv stones, three mile from the college, givin’ him his private di rections also. An’ the third man, the Greek scholar, he placed on the heap at the next crossroads six mile from the college—with instructions likewise. It wasn’t now far off the time an nounced for the big contest, an’ the last man wasn’t long on his heap 'when the carriage containin’ the Ox foord champions dhruv up. It halted at the crossroads, not knowin’ which road to take (as Dan knew it would), an’ says they, "Here's an oul’ stone br-aker 'ill diract us the right way.” So they give time i’ day to the oul’ man on the heap, an’ axed him plaise diract them on the proper road to Maynooth. Back to them straight he gives time 1’ day again, an’ the prop er diractions, all in Greek. Faith, the Oxfoord men was dumb foundhered, an’ they wor sadly shak in’ their heads as they dhrove on again; an’ for the first time since the challenge was thrown out their hearts begun to give way. They hauled out their notes books in which th\' wor keepin’ an account iv their whole jour ney' an’ wrote down in them; "Six miles from Maynoonth College the stone-br-akers on the roadsides spaiks Greek only in or’nary conversation.” Very well an’ good, when they come to the nixt crossroads they hauled up again an’ inquired off an oul’ stone br’aker who was there the proper turn to take for the college in Maynooth. This lad looked from his heap, an’ sa luted them, an’ give them the proper diractions. completely in Haybrew. At the third and last crossroads they stopped the carriage again, an’ give time i’ day an’ axed directions off an oul' stone-br'aker who was peg gin’ away at a heap iv stones here. This lad replied to them, an’ give them full diractions how to reach Maynooth, entirely in Sangscrit! The five professors shoved their heads out iv the carriage! an’ roared to the coachman. “Dhrlve like the dev il for Dublin!” Then they fell back an’ fainted in wan another’s arms. That night, as they crossed in a boat to England, they wrote in their note books: "A mile from Maynooth the Very stone-br-akers scorn to spaik anything but Sangscrit in or’nary con versation. We saved the honor iv Ox ford be the clainest race on record.” In all iv Dan’s career none iver out witted him only the woman that he defended for stallin’ the bullock. The woman was up for sellin’ a bul lock which she claimed was her own, but which the prosecutor was goin’ to prove that she stole from him. An’ when Dan went into the whole case he saw that there was such evidence as would convict her without the jury iver leaven’ the box. Dan was then con vinced that he was dallin' with a dis honest person, an' he'd like to have washed his hands of her an' her case, only it would then be put about that he give it up bekase he wasn't diver enough to get a vardict. “So," thought Dan, “there's no way out iv it; I must go on with the case; an’ as I’m goin’ on with it I must keep up me reputa tion, an’ get the woman out clear.” Moreover she had offered a great fee entirely to Dan If he could succeed in gettin’ her off. “Sleep alsy, ma'am,” DON’T NEGLECT YOUR KIDNEYS The Most Important Organs In the Body—Symptoms of Disense anil Cure—Free Advice. 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Some persons are so susceptible to these vegetable poisons that coming in their vicinity will produce almost as much discomfort and pain as handling them; their thin and sensitive skins seem to absorb from the surrounding atmosphere the acrid juices emanating from these plants. There is seldom a picnic or family gathering in the woods but that some mem- -, ber of the party comes in contact with Poison Ivy, Oak or some other hurtful plant or weed, and through the open pores the poison is carried to the overheated blood. Poison Ivy is found clinging to tree trunks, * • blood SATURATED WITH POISON OAK. [ ences or rocks, sometimes reach- Mr. John Friei, of Bear station, Dei., great heights; the leaves are writes: “I was poisoned with poiaon oak nearlv SOUare in sVianp cmnnf'h which went through my blood, and my 7 < . 111 Snape, SmOOtU Vi M condition became so serious that the and Shiny and three On each Stem: ™ doctors all said I could not get well. I it. _XJ _ r • - - . ’ cSjiSWwSE'J*'ft?IUTotV MTi remained in a precarious condition, con- tile tlOWerS are OI a greenish white ?Y.VB*i” .“riiV.'M: color, and the berries pale green or s’Tsa f 7 he ° a . k is , a sma !’ shrub > seldom morc than three cured entirely, i think it the best blood feet high, its size depending upon the nature of the soil medicine made. location, etc.; the leaves are long and pointed with saw hke edges and a downy appearance underneath. While the two plants are entirely unlike in appearance, the poisonous effects are ,verv similar. After the swelling subsides the skin remains for a long Returned every spring for 18 years. time in a rough and inflamed condition, dotted here and ca” 7. e t n o n thou°. f anls C of there with bad looking ulcers and little festering sores. S'’wwMghfyears"^ It is truly remarkable with what reerularitv and 1 we f® P oi °“ e d by handling poison oak. . o and ** broke out on us every spring for certainty tne aisea.se returns, and always on schedule eighteen years. Someone recommended S, time, appearing the same month, day and hour, almost, have - ’.Ten o lUTigns” of C °thf eVuptioSs that it did the year before. Don’t be deceived should all ,everal 80 * son> ’ the signs of the poison vanish soon after the first attack —the acrid juices have been taken through the open skin pores into the blood, and the most persistent and faithful use of external remedies can never dislodge them, and next season, and for years to come, you may expect to endure the same bodily tortures; the blood in the meantime becoming so saturated and charged with the poison that each succeeding attack leaves the body weaker and recovery more uncertain and l I slow, and thus the once simple malady ends disastrously, For every poisonous plant, tree, shrub or flower, nature j ] has wisely provided an antidote or cure. The roots and herbs of which S. S. S. is composed quickly, surely and permanently overcome and drive out of the blood and system the effects of Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, Virginia Creeper, Thunder Weed, Sumac and vegetable poisons of every variety. S. S. S. will be found an invaluable and perfect antidote for poisons of this class. There is never any return of the aggravating symptoms after a course of S. S. S., as it destroys every vestige of the poison. Don’t abandon hope because of repeated failures. State your case to our doctors; we feel sure they can help you. Medical advice will cost you nothing and is strictly confidential. Book on Blood and Skin Diseases free. SWIFT SPECIFIC CO., Atlanta, Ge. says he, “an’ consider yer case already dismissed.” So, on the mornin’ lv the thrial Dan had a private consultation with her, an' posted her on what she was to do. When the trial was reached the coort was filled with both people and bar risthers—bekase it had been the whole talk for a length iv time afoeghan’ about the wonderfully diver case Dan was goin’ to win an’ the mighty big fee he was goin’ to earn. An' when the woman was placed in the dock an’ heerd the charge read she looked very silly entirely, an’ twirled her thumbs, wan over another, an’ sayed out, “Ochon! me poor calve, ye’re soul, ye're soul!” an’ the judge an’ jury all looked quare at her. Then when the queskin was put till her ,"Are ye guilty or not guilty?” she twirled her thumbs an’ looked silly and sayed, “Ochon! me poor calve, ye're soul, ye’re soul!” An’ the judge and jury looked at her quarer still. An' the judge then begun further queskins iv wan kind an’ another till her, but the sorra an answer he could dhraw from her but “Ochon! me poor calve, ye’re soul’, ye’re soul,!” So up the Judge jumps at length, an’ he flam in' mad, an’ he wanted to know who was responsible for bringin’ a poor idiot woman up afore him an’ puttin’ her in the dock. “Warder!” he shouts, “throw open the dock doors this ins’ant an’ let that poor woman go free, an’ her own wans (people) look afther her!” An’ down out of the dock, a free woman, she steps; an' all smilin’ to herself, steers for the coort doore. But me brave Dan, though he was mighty delighted with his success, wasn’t the man to forget his fee; so, he made a sthride afther an' tips her on the shoulder —all the barristhers an’ judge an’ jury an’ all in the coort sthrainin' their necks watchin’. “Me good woman,” says Dan, holdin’ out his hand, “my fee, plaise, if it’s con venient!” She put on again the silliest look ever sat on an idiot's countenance an’, twirlin’ her thumbs, says she: “Ochon! me poor calve, ye’re soul’, ye’re soul’!” GOO-G 00! THE GIANT. He Lend. itn Army to Victory and Then Retires on His Laurels. Our arrival at the capital after the great victory over the robbers created such an excitement as was never known before. For three days the people were shouting, waving flags and firing can non, and it was a holiday for old and young. When the people had finally quieted down and dispersed to their homes the King sent for me. On this occasion he sat on his throne, with the •Queen beside him and many nobles present, and as I knelt before him he said: “Goo-Goo, no one could have done better, and we thank you. Name what you will as a reward, and it shall be yours: “Oh. King. I ask but to serve you," I replied, and at that there was a great dapping of hands and the King and Queen were much pleased His Maj esty pinned a golden star on my breast, and presented me with a sword which had jewels set in the handle, and I bowed myself out of his presence. That same evening I talked with him in his private reception poom, with only two or three other people present. When we had talked of the battle and the victory, and he had told me that he should hang half the captured rob bers and set the other half at liberty, he said "Goo-Goo, you are brave and clever, but as you have never been to school ,yo\i have no education. This is a sad drawback. I have great plana for your future, but unless you secure an edu cation they will come to naught. No ignorant can become a great man.” I replied that I would be only too glad to go to school and study hard, and it was arranged that I should live at the palace and have a private tutor. I began my studies the very next day, and I may tell you that I continued them for five years. I had the best teachers in Siam, and as I was ambi tious to succeed, I got along wonder fully well. The King was pleased with my progress, and complimented and encouraged me from time to time. When I was 20 years old I could fence, box, speak three Qr four different lan guages, and was well up in the higher studies. Indeed, my teachers said that there were . but few better educated men in Siam. When my education was finished, the King said: “Goo-Goo, I have been waiting for L— - OH, KING. I ASK BUT TO SERVE YOU,” I REPLIED, this day. Simll, the General of my army is old and would retire from active service, and I wish you to take his place. You have studied the science of war with other things, and I am sura you will make a success in your new position.” A few days later he issued a pro clamation making me commander-in chief. and as soon as the army could be made ready I set out for the frontier of Anam. The ruler of that country had become very impudent towards Siam, and had even threatened to make war, and it was deemed best to cure him of his big-head before he went too far. With fifteen hundred troops at my back I marched swiftly across the country’for four days, and then we fell upon Ponompein. the capital city of Anam, and captured It without a blow. Mo news bad been had of our coming, - and we reached and entered the city at night. The ruler was in bed and sound asleep, as were most of his people, and when he found his city captured and himself a prisoner he was frightened half to death. He begged for his life, and offered all he had if I would spare him. I had not come to kill him, but to teach him a lesson. I took away all the guns and swords from his army, exploded his powder and blew up his forts. Then I loaded 200 of his donkeys with clothes, rugs, beads, furs and food and set out for home, and he was thankful enough to see the last of me. Later on I made an expedition to the Chinese frontier to drive out some Chi nese troop who had captured one of cur forts, and I gave them a lesson long to be remembered. After about two years the Malays began a war against us that lasted a year, and they sued for peace after being well thrash ed. During the ten years I served as general there was plenty of fighting to do, and I was wounded four times. At last, when the country was at peace and likely to remain so, I asked the King to let me resign and take up my residence in the country. I was tired of war and public life and wanted to get married and live a quiet life. "Goo-Goo, I shall miss you vr j'y much, hut you may go,” replied the King. "As long as we have peace you may live as a country gentleman, hut if war breaks out you must come back and lead my army.” He gave me a great sum of money and many honors and decorations and we parted great, good friends, anh though I greatly enjoy the life I am now leading, should the King need my services he has only to send me a mes sage and I shall hasten to obey. ffHE END,