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SUNDAY MORNING.
THE FOOL’S PRAYER.
BY E. B. SILL.
The royal feast was done; the king
Sought some new sport to banish
rare, •*
And to his jester cried: ‘‘Sir Fool.
Kneel now, and make for us a pray
er!”
The jester doffed his cap and bells.
And stood the mocking court be
fore ;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.
He bowed his head and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: “0 Lord,
Be merciful to rue, a fool!
"No pity. Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but. Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
*' *Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right. O Lord, we stay;
’Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.
When the Plot
Thickened.
Dudley explained his idea with en
thusiasm.
“Something is bound to come of it,”
lie said. “We will exchange mail for
one week. You must read my letters
and answer them as if they were your
own, without consulting me, or even
telling me their contents, and I will do
the same with yours. By following up
this misllt correspondence I'll be sure
to get a plot.”
“Quite likely.” drawled Grant. “But
what do I get?”
“The satisfaction of seeing me make
a stake with an original story, and pos
sibly a check, if that delinquent Boston
firm comes to time.”
Grant pondered the proposition
doubtfully.
“It’s a crazy notion." he said, at
length, “but Since I get scarcely any
mail up town except laundry bills and
circulars from local tradesmen, the
chances of your prying into any of my
secrets seems exceedingly slim, so I
suppose I can safely accommodate you.
When do you wish to put the system
Into operation?”
“To-morrow morning, if you're will
ing,” said Dudley. “My Imagination
seems to be afflicted with n most ag
gravated case of dry rot these days,
and the sooner I get to work on a plot
from real life the better."
At no delivery on the following day
■were there any letters of importance
for either of the friends, but in the 10
o’clock mail on the second morning
there was a letter addressed to Grant
that promised interesting results. The
envelope bore unmistakable earmarks
of femininity, and In spite of their
agreement Dudley hesitated before
opening it.
“It seems hardly fair to the girl.” he
thought. “Still ”
He looked across the table at Grant,
who liad finished his breakfast and
was smiling over a communication to
Dudley from the ponderous Boston
firm.
‘.‘That settles It.” growled Dudley.
“He’s got the cheek, confound him, so
1 might as well get even by making
the most of this innocent little note.”
The letter was written in a sprawl
ing. fashionable band, and covered sev
eral pages. Before lie was half way
through Dudley perceived that In- had
been precipitated into the thick of a
plot far more unique than any he had
counted on discovering.
“My dear Henry,” tiie letter ran.
“After many months of hard work I
have come to the conclusion that the
editing of the papers left by my late
husband, General McKeever, Is too big
a job for me to finish alone, and I have
decided to place them In the hands of
some trustworthy literary man who
will do justice to the General’s mem
ory. The question is. Whom shall I
employ? I wish you would advise me,
I know that you have a large acquaint
ance among writers, and it. has oc
curred to me that you might be able to
recommend some person for the place.
From our previous conversations on
the subject, you are tolerably well
aware of the nature of the data left by
the General, and consequently you will
know what qualifications are essential
in the man who undertakes to finish
the book. The payment will lie very
liberal, and whoever accepts the posi
tion can well afford to lay aside all
'other work while engaged in this.
Kindly give the matter your earnest at
tention, and advise me as soon as you
have made a choice. Yours sincerely,
“LUELLA MoKEEVEH.
“Hawthorne Apartments. Sept. 2.”
Dudley read the letter several times.
Even after lie knew it by heart ho kppt
an reading it. Presently Grant started
down town, and then he made prepara
tions for answering it.
“She's the same old Ltiella.” he
mused, over ink and notepaper. “I’ve
been thinking, ever since I heard that
the General was dead, that I would
look her up and see if she were as
sweet and pretty as she used to be.
This is an unparalleled opportunity.
It's a blessing I made that contract
with Grant. He wouldn’t have recom
mended me in a hundred years, but I
shall have no hesitancy in recommend
■ding myself. Luella refused me once,
in another capacity, and she may re
fuse me now in this, but I certainly
shall not fail through want of en
deavor.”
Grant’s was an easy hand to imitate,
and after a couple of hours’ practice
Dudley flattered himself that his writ
ing would pass muster before anybody
“These clumsy feet, still in the mire.
Go crushing blossoms without end:
These hard, well meaning hands we thlust
Among the heartstrings of a friend.
“The ill-timed truth we might have kept—
Who knows how sharp it pierced and
stung!
The word we had not sense to say—
Who lannvs how grandly it had rung!
“Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them
all;
But for our blunders—O, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.
“Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave and scourge the
tool
That did his will; hut Thou. O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”
The room was hushed; in cilence rose
The king, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“Be merciful to me, a fool!”
less skilled than an expert. That feat
accomplished, lie wrote to Mrs. Mc-
Keever.
“My dear Luella,” he said. “I am
very glad that you consulted me in re
gard to a competent literary man to
finish editing the General's-papers, be
cause it gives me a chance to recom
mend a man whom 1 think remarkably
well fitted for the post. Clarence Dud
ley is the man I mean. Yon have no
donbt heard his name mentioned fre
quently of late, for he has been doing
some very creditable work. Dudley is
a particular friend of mine. I have
known him intimately for many years,
and have always found Idm the right
sort. I have never known a man whom
X have liked so well. He is. by all odds,
the best friend I ever had, and if you
can see your way clear to trusting him
book you will be conferring
a favor upon me personally. Aside
from his attributes. as an all-round
good fellow, Dudley is so well equipped
mentally that I feel sure he would
give excellent satisfaction, and I hope
you can strike a bargain with him. Lot
me know at once what you think of my
selection. If your decision is favorable
I will have Dudley call on you, and you
can settle the matter to suit yourselves.
Yours, HENRY GRANT.”
Dudley did not view this effusion
with unalloyed pride.
“It is pretty fulsome praise to sing
at cue's own funeral,'’ lie commented.
"If she should ever find out that I am
the author of the panegyric she will
certainly think me too effervescent to
write a of her deceased hus
band. 1 must, warn Henry to say
nothing about our compact. If lie
should give me away my vanity would
certainly prove fatal."
Grant did not come up to their rooms
that night. He sent word that lie
should la l out of town for a day or two,
but that Dudley was to stick to their
bargain and continue to answer his
share of their mail, as usual. There
was very little to answer, but it. made
up in quality what it lacked in quan
tity, for Thursday morning brought an
other letter from Mrs. McKeever.
“I was somewhat surprised at your
choice of literary executor,” she wrote.
“I knew Clarence Dudley several years
ago, and have rather pleasant recollec
tions of him, but 1 had hardly thought
that his literary qualifications are ex
actly what 1 require. Still, you seem
to be in a position to judge iiiin from
every standpoint, and 1 will gladly
grant him an Interview. Before send
ing him to me, however, there is one
point that I must make clear to you.
I should have mentioned it: in my last
letter, hut shrank from doing so. But
it is too important to be put off longer.
It relates to the commands of General
McKeever. It. was one of the provis
ions of his will that no one except my
self or my second husband should write
a line of his biography. Naturally, he
preferred that I should do it without
assistance, but lie was not a jealous or
a selfish man. and he realized that I,
being a young woman, should probably
marry again. If I found the book too
great an undertaking to accomplish
alone, and decided to marry before its
completion, be expressly stipulated
that my husband should carry on the
work. So, you see. before entering into
a literary agreement witii any author
ramust come to an understanding with
him in regard to that clause in the
General’s will. You will see, my dear
Henry, without further explanation,
that my position Is most awkward. By
the General’s commands I am bound
to see that the book is put on the mar
ket, yet I am unable to finish it myself,
and am constrained to seek help ss)y
from some man at whose head I am
virtually bound to throw myself in
marriage. For pity’s sake, Henry, help
me over this difficulty. Explain the sit
uation to Mj. Dudley as delicately as
you know how. I think it much better
that you, rather than I, should broach
tlie subject. Tliep, jf lie does not posi
tively revolt, let him come to see me.
Yours, LUELLA.”
Dudley spent less than ten minutes
on his reply' to the second note.
"My dear Luella,” he said. “Dudley
understands the situation thoroughly.
I must say that his remembrance of
you seems to be exceedingly vivid, and
he is anxious to meet you again. Not
withstanding your frank criticism of
his work, I still think him the very
man for the place, and if agreeable to
you he will call on you Saturday after
uoonatS. HENRY.”
Mrs. McKeever was plainly nervous
through the preliminary handshaking
when they met ou Saturday afternoon,
hut Dudley had braced himself for the
occasion and acquitted liiuiself as be
came the literary trustee of a noted
General.
“I must confess.” said Mrs. McKeev
er, “that I was astonished when Henry
Grant proposed your name as an ac
complished historian. 1 did not know
that you aspired to fame in that direc
tion. Furthermore, I didn’t know that
you and Henry were such close
friends.”
“Oh, yes.” said Dudley, carelessly.
“I’ve known Grant for years.”
“So he tells me. He seems very fond
of you. I really did not know it was
possible for one man to care so much
for another. I hope that your are
equally devoted to him. His praise of
you is unstinted. He says that you are
the best friend lie ever had, and that
he likes you better than anybody else
in the world.”
“Does he?” murmured Dudley.
“Dear old Hank!"
"And, besides, he is so very proud of
your literary attainments. If l didn’t
know Henry to be such a level-headed
fellow I should accuse him of gushing.
1 should he afraid that his judgment
had been warped by the heat of friend
ship, and that liis recommendation was
not entirely reliable. However. 1 have
decided to take his advice, and if you
are willing to —to enter upon the proba
tion which I explained to him would
lie required of you—why ”
She shifted her eyes uneasily. Dud
ley felt that he had skated safely over
the thinnest parts of his duplicity, and
he filled up the pause buoyantly.
“Now, see here, Luella,” he said,
“you ought lo know pretty well how I
feel about the matter. I put the ques
tion to you six years ago, and you
turned mo down most beautifully. I
swallowed the dose, I flatter myself,
with fairly good grace, but I kept on
thinking of you pretty constantly, even
after you married General McKeever
and went to Chicago to live. Ever
since you’ve been single again I’ve
been aching to sound you on the sub
ject. but I felt rather afraid of you and
thought I’d better go slow. 1 want
you, Luella. and 1 want to write tho
General’s biography. Are you willing
to let it go at that?”
“Yes,” sighed Mrs. McKeever; “if
you’re satisfied. 1 am.”
In the first, thrill of victory Dudley
fejt that tlie only way lie could honor
ably square himself was to confess hM
double-dealing. Many times in tho
course of the afternoon lie was on the
point of making a clean breast of it,
hut modesty always forbade.
“If I hadn’t spread it on so thick in
my own behalf. I shouldn’t mind,” lie
argued. “Since I did. I think I’d hotter
let tliiifgs go as they are. I’d feel pret
ty sneaking lo have her know that I
blew my own horn so loudly.”
Grant came home that evening, but
Dudley was too busy pondering over
the outcome of his epistolary enterprise
-to,*iay nyigh Just before they
went to lied he remuiltered that lie
must caution Grant to keep their
scheme a secret.
“By the way. Grant, you haven’t fold
anybody about our' exchanging letters,
have you?” lie asked.
Grant yawned. “No,” said he, “only
one person. I told her the evening the
plot was hatched, lint she doesn’t
count. She'll never say anything about
it.”
“She?” echoed Dudley. “Who is
she?"
“Oh, nobody but Luella McKeever.
She’s all right.”
Dudley caught his drooping head in
hotli hands.
“Good Lord,” he said. “I've got a
plot, now, with a vengeance.”—Now
York Times.
A Uncles* Industry.
“Tills is the age of feats—Alpine
climbing, Channel-swimming, fasting
for weeks, searching for the North and
South Poles—the most of them being
more or less useless, and involving
quite unnecessary dangers. But per
haps of all fatuous attempts to accom
plish something because it has not
been done before, says tlie Dundee
Courier, nothing caps tlie feat of play
ing the piano against time. An out
break of tills mania is announced from
Marseilles, where a couple of pianists,
tired by the example of an Italian
musician who jjlayed for nineteen
hours at a stretch, have started to
break the record. The conditions are
that they shall play for thirty hours
with at most only four intervals, each
of ten minutes, for rest and refresh
ment. Considering that those who
have to play the piano are very much
liable to ailments of the muscles and
nerves of the fingers and wrists, it
might be supposed that pianists would
not take up meaningless tasks that
would exhaust muscles and nerves
were they made of steel wire, and
tasks which, even were they accom
plished, would make no one wiser or
better. It is well, however, that there
is no compulsion of the public to attend
to hear these musical freaks, and it
may be hoped that the building in
which they are carried on is situated
at a respectable distance from the
paths of an innocent public.
Not a Good Likeness.
The little daughter of the house
watched the minister, who was making
a visit, very closely, and finally sat
down beside him and began to draw
on her slate.
“Wbat are you doing?” asked the
clergyman.
“Pm making your picture,” said the
child.
The minister sat very still, and tlie
child worked away very earnestly.
Then she stopped and compared her
work with the original, and shook her
head.
“I don't like it much,” she said.
“ ’Tain’t a great deal like you. I gues*
I’ll pnt a tail to it and call it a dog.”—
Duluth Trjbune. - ——,„_***
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
|pfy| "It %nsjf
f^shiows
New York City.—Simple waists al
ways possess an inherent charm and
are essentially smart. This attractive
May Manton model is shown in peat!
OH ARMING, SIMPLE SHIRT WAIST.
de eyuge, in reseda with stiteliiiigs of
eorticelli silk in a darker shade, is
trimmed with drop buttons of open
work silver and makes part of the
entire gown; but tlie design suits all
gown and . waist materials, tlie odd
bodice as well as Hie costume.
The foundation lining is smoothly
and snugly fitted and closes at the cen
tre front. The waist proper consists
of a plain back and deeply tucked
fronts and closes invisibly beneath the
tuck to the left of the centre in con
formity with the accepted style of the
season. The back is drawn down at
the waist lino but the fronts blouse
BLOUSE OU SHIRT WAIST AND NINE-GORED SKIRT.
slightly over tlie belt. Over the shoul
der seams are applied pointed stvnps
that fall over the sleeves and give the
long shouldered effect. The sleeves are
full and are finished with pointed cuffs
At the neck is a stock that is cut to a
point at the centre front.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size is four yards
twenty-hue inches wide, three and
seven-eighth yards twenty-seven indies
wide or two and three-eight it yards
forty-four inches wide.
Orarefiil ami KflVctlvt*.
Double breasted waists are essential
ly smart and have the added merit
of being generally becoming. The
stylisii May Manton model shown in
the large drawing is adapted to all
waist materials, silk, wool, linen and
cotton, and to the fashionable shirt
waist suit as well as to the odd blouse.
In the case of the original it is made
of sage green albatross stitched with
black and trimmed with small buttons
showing black, green and gold.
The lining fits snugly and extends to
tlie waist line only and closes at the
centre front. Both Hie fronts and hack
of the waist are tucked and stitched
flat/ the hack for its entire length, the
fronts .to yoke depth, and are arranged
over the foundation. The hack is
snlootli and snug, but the fronts are
gathered and die blouse slightly. The
right front is hipped over tlie left to
close in double breasted style. The
sleeves are tlie new bishop sort and
are amply full above the cuffs. The
neck is finished with a hand over which
is the regulation stock.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size is four yards twen
ty-one inches wide, three and three
fourth yards twenty-seven inches wide,
three and one-lialf yards thirty-two
inches wide or two and one-eighth
yards forty-four inches wide.
Skirts laid in generous pleats that
conceal tlie seams and are stitched flat
at their upper portions, are among the
latest shown and are eminently grace
ful and effective. The smart model
shown in tlie large drawing is shaped
with nine gores that allow only narrow
spaces between the pleats which pro
vide fulness and with the Hare on each
gore give a stylish flounce effect where
they fall free.
The skirt is cut in nine gores that
widen perceptibly as thoy approach
the lower edge and are specially
adapted to narrow goods. At each
seam, so arranged as to cover it, is a
deep pleat that is stitched flat to
flounce depth. At the hack is a flat In
verted pleat that gives tlie requisite
snug tit about the hips yet provides ful
ness below. The lower portion falls it
soft full folds that give a flounce effect.
To cut this skirt in llie medium size
ten and live-eighth yards of material
twenty-one inches wide, seven and one
fourth yards t wenty-seven inches wide,
seven and one-fourth yards thirty-two
inches wide or four and three-fourth
yards forty-four inches wide will be
required.
Velvet Corsage Violets.
Something of an innovation in the
artificial flower field, both.for millinery
and corsage use, is the violet scented
velvet violet. In shape and shading it
is as near tlie natural product as any
manufacture may he, anil only the
most sensitive olfactory nerves could
detect a difference in odor.
Woman's lUouso.
Invisible or Princess closings with
yoke effects are seen upon many of the
latest and smartest waists. This styl
ish May Manton model includes both
features, the tucking being graduated
to give a yoke effect at the front, with
one of tlie newest collars and the fash
ionable full sleeves. The original is of
plaid louisine silk, cut bias and
trimmed with pipings of black velvet
and carved metal buttons, but all
waisting materials are appropriate,
silk, wool and cotton.
Tlie waist is made over a fitted lin-
ing that closes at the centre front
separately from the outside, but which
can be omitted whenever washable
fabrics are used or less warmth is de
sired. The waist consists of a smooth
fitting hack and of fronts that are
stitched in tiny tucks at the neck and
shoulders, with a wide tuck on each
front, that meet in the centre and cover
the hems through which the invisible
closing is made. The hack is gathered
and drawn down snugly at the waist
line, but the fronts blouse slightly over
the belt. The right front edge is
hipped over the left beneath the wide
tucks so bringing the edges together.
The sleeves are full and are finished
with cuffs cut to match the pretty 00l-
A SMART I!HOUSE,
lar. The stock is the regulation one
with the addition of the turn-over
portion.
Tlie quantity of material required for
the medium size is four and one-eighth
yards twenty-one inches wide, three
and seven-eighth yards twenty-seven
inches wide, three and one-eightii yards
thirty-two inches wide or two and one
eighth yrds forty-four inches wide.
Semes Attending a Flogging
With the Terrible Russian Knout
A**
9 Ths Victint Strapped face Downward (Jpon a Dow Bench- V
flje Knout is a Short-DandM, Dong gullock Whip—An
| Excavation the Qeptti of a Sonp-Plate Made in the flesh. |
THE late Dr. Benjamin How
ard, an Englishman by birth,
an American by adoption, a
veteran of the Civil War, and
i physician of international standing,
lays, In his writings that In 1859 he be
taine interested in the different convict
systems of the world, the study of
;rlminology and prison reform. And
to, beginning with 1888, he began to
.ravel considerably for the purpose of
Making thorough Investigations of
these subjects. He went through the
principal prisons of England, Germany
And the United States, and through
;very convict prison between St. Pe
tersburg and Siberia; at Vladivostock
be met the governor of the mysterious
island of Sakhalin—still regarded as iu
svltably the grave of every Russian
murderer sent there—who invited him
to make a visit to his prison home. Dr.
Howard joyfully grasped this opportu
nity, and during his residence in the
penal settlement accompanied the gov
ernor on all his tours of inspection, be
came familiar with the innermost
working of every department, and at
each of the floggings which occurred
the culprits were examined by him per
sonally before, during and after the ex
ecution of the sentence. Inasmuch as
Dr. Howard enjoys the distinction of
being the only foreigner who has ever
remained overnight on the island, his
account of the life of the convicts and
his unique experiences, embodied in
his posthumous work, “Prisoners of
Russia,” will be read with unusual in
terest.
It was by tlie merest accident that
Dr. Howard was permitted to see a
prisoner punished with the terrible
knout. One day In the Korsakoffsk
settlement the report of a drowning ae
:ident made him hurry off to the beach,
where he found the newly appointed
medical inspector. Dr. A , endeav
jring to resuscitate the patient. Asked
where he had learned the method of ar
tificial respiration he was employing he
answered that it was the American
method, known as tho “direct method,”
of Professor Howard, and that he had
learned it in St. Petersburg. Dr. How
ard says:
“He was immensely astonished at
finding that the person who was show
ing his pleasure in the returning life
of the patient was himself the author
of the method, and from that day on
ward, both in the hospital and out of It
Dr. A—— treated me with ns much
consideration and respect as if I were
the senior physician of the post, and
be merely an assistant.”
It. was, therefore, only natural that
the Russian should ask the American
to help him in making a report upon
the condition of a prisoner condemned
to receive the maximum legal sentence
of 100 lashes. Dr. A said to the
writer:
“He is a weakly sort of creature, mid
I feel very anxious about taking the
responsibility of it. At the same time,
ns you know, I am anew man here,
and it might be unpleasant for me to
.venture to obstruct the execution of a
■entence passed liy the court, except
for reasons which would he manifestly
unquestionable. The fact is. I was
just thinking if I couldn’t manage to
get. you to help me through the matter.
You see, as you have been a university
professor, and are a guest, of the gov
ernor, n professional concurrence on
your part would fortify my position,
whatever it might be, and make it im
pregnable.”
The governor, though obviously an
noyed, made no open protest. Both
surgeons agreed that the man would
survive the flogging. The sentence
was executed in the quadrangle of the
prison. The prisoner was strapped
face downward upon a large low, rath
er narrow and very solid looking bench
or table about fourteen Inches high,
having In its top pairs of slit-shaped
perforations. This was the kabyla, of
Hogging table. Dr. Howard writes;
“From the same kamera from which
the culprit had come, a tall, stalwart
man stepped Mrtli. His face was stern
but without malice. He had in his
hand what appeared at first sight to be
a short-handled, long bullock whip. As
he came forward he drew the multiple
thongs through his fingers in an expert
fashion, as if to straighten them,
stalked three or four paces in a
straight line from the kabyla on its
right, and marked the distance with
his heel. This man was the execu
tioner. With military precision he
planted his right foot firmly on the
marked spot, and, raising his hand as
high as he was able, with a clever
wrist movement he sent the thongs
swishing backward and forward, the
hiss ending with a ping like that of a
tninnie bullet. Slightly changing the
position of his foot he repeated this
proceeding two or three times. He
was simply measuring his stroke. Fix
ing himself with extra firmness in his
latest position the executioner skill
fully kept the lash poised in the air, as
an eagle poises when about to dart
upon its prey. Fully assured now of
his accuracy he shot a swift and impa
tient glance at the governor, who, ac
customed to the signal, sternly gave
the final word of command. At least,
he commenced to give it. but before the
word was fully out of his mouth it was
completely drowned by the shrieks and
yells of the culprit. I could only just
catch the voice of the executioner as
as he shouted loudly and deliberately,
“N-u-m-ber one!” answered by that of
the marker as he repeated and record
ed it. I quickly began to appreciate
wbat hud appeared to me mere ostenta
tiousuess In the preliminary stroke
practice. For. having once been start
ed the executioner's strokes were as
steady, as rhythmical, as precise, as if
done by a steam engine, and as unre
lenting. Such was the precision of
them that at the end of the fifth there
were exactly fifteen lines, scoring the
buttocks as evenly as if they had been
marked by a piece of chalk. Their
force so completely expelled the blood
from the surface that with chalk the
lines could not have been made whiter.
By tlie wrist manoeuvre the blows
were applied with such carefully grad
ed force that at the end of the first
stage the part already attacked looked
as If covered with an even sheet of
white paper. There was not a drop of
blood.”
Up to this point, or nbout the twenty
fifth stroke, so violent were the at
tempts of the prisoner to struggle and
to yell, that death from suffocation
seemed as likely as from the flogging
itself. Then came a dead silence.
“The second stage commenced when
the blood began to flow, and as this
proceeded more and more frely, the
victim appeared to revive and come to
life again. Asa spectacle, this was by
far tiie most horrible part, of the pun
ishment, though for the victim it was
much less painful. At every blow each
of the three knout-ended-thongs, like
the claws and beak of a vulture, pecked
out fragments of dripping flesh, which
were scattered in all directions by the
backward swing of the lash. To avoid
them the officers—who were In white
uniform—and the doctors had to step
back and back for a considerable dis
tance. After the skin of the side at
tacked had been completely detached
and scattered, the screams of the poor
wretch subsided into groans and sobs.
Tiie excavation, now about the size
and depth of a soup plate, being filled
with overflowing blood, which pouredi
over the edge of the table, the force of
the blows was very much deadened.
The deeper and deeper the plowing, the
less and less was the pain. At last,
when it seemed as if the time would,
surely never arrive, the marker, all out
of breath, shouted out, in a loud and
prolonged voice, “F-i-f-t-y!" and the
governor cried, ‘Halt!’ ”
At this point Dr. A stopped for
ward. felt the prisoner’s pulse, stepped
bnek to tlie governor and made a re
port of the man’s condition. After a
pause of about five minutes the execu
tioner and marker changed sides, Ilk*
cricketers:
“Again the executioner went through
the same process as at the first start
ing. Again the final command was
given, and with the same shrieks and
yells on the part, of the culprit and the
same mechanical rhythm, persistence
and rolentlessuess on the part of the
executioner, the scene continued until,
to the infinite relief of everybody, the
marker slionted out the welcome word
‘N-i-n-e-t-y - n-i-n-e!’ The hundredth
stroke is always omitted ns a token of
Imperial magnanimity. When what re*
mained of this poor wretch had been
unstrapped he was not dead, and hia
quivering body was borne away to the
hospital.”
The flogging table was swilled with
buckets of water, and during the dry
ing of it Dr. Howard examined and
experimented with the bloody knout.
He snys:
“The handle of this instrument was
of thick worn], about eighteen inches
long. The main thong was of stout
rawhide, tied into a knot nbout eight
feet from the handle, where it was
split into three smaller thongs. These
were about three feet long, the ends
terminating, not in lead or iron hooks,
ns I have seen falsely alleged, but In
knots so short and hard ns to amount
to almost the same thing. At the time
I examined it the thongs were nearly
covered with blood clots and clinging
fragments of flesh. It was a most sick;
ening object.”
Later, Dr. Howard accompanied Dr,
A to the hospital, and found the
flogged assassin In one of the best beds
in the best ward, where everything had
been carefully prepared for his recep.
tion. The writer adds;
“In the dressing of his wounds, th<
selection of his diet, as well as In the,
hospital attention of the nurses, there
was neither stint nor limitation so fai
as the resources of the hospital departt
ment permitted. In the nature of hi*
case his treatment called for very little
medlcince, but rather for moderate
stimulation and all the nourishment he
could take, and as he suffered very lit
tle actual pain, his condition and pros,
pects were regarded by some of the
other patients ns being rather enviable
than otherwise. To an ordinary ob.
server, and, Indeed, to anybody, hie
wound was certainly sufficiently shock
ing. for the entire surface fell into a
shade of gangrene, and sloughed away
In pultaceous masses, leaving an exca
vation which, for size and depth. I
never saw equalled except in a few
cases of shell wounds on the field oi
battle. As the process of repair was
necessarily a long one, the treatment,
which had to be most generous, gave
him a long period of Such luxury as
might by many of his class be regard
ed as a good offset, if not snfflcienf
compensation for his punishment,”- ;
NOVEMBER 23