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PftORNINft.
A CONTENTED MIND.
Thoma*, Lord Vaux. wbu died in 1557. wns born at liarrowden, Northamptonshire,
Eng. lie was captain of ihc Isle of Jersey under Henry Vlil. 'Jhe followinj; teraea were
first printed in 1576, in “Paradise of Dainty Devices.”
When all is done and said,
In the end thus shall you flod.
He most of all doth bathe in bliss.
That hath a quiet mind;
And, clear from worldly cares,
To deem, can be content,
The sweetest time in all his life,
In thinking, to be spent.
The body subject is
To fickle Fortune’s power,
Ami to a million of mishaps
Is casual every hour:
And Death in time doth change
It to a clod of clay;
When as the mind, which is divine,
ituns never to decay.
A CLEAN BILL.
By GILBERT DAYLE.
In the drawing room of a hou.se in
Mayfair Violet Raymond, a pretty,
thoughtful looking girl of some 22
ears, was Bitting txiously awaiting
the arrival of an expected visitor.
Presently there was a tap at tbo door,
and a servant entered.
“Captain Walter Grenville, miss.”
The girl rose as a tall, bronzed man
of about 35 came into the room.
“I hope you will forgive me for ask
ing you to call, Captain Grenville,” she
said with a grave smile. “I heard you
were back in London, and I felt that
under the circumstances you would not
think it a liberty. My aunt,
Rhenley, has retired with a bad head
ache, else she would also be here to
receive you.”
“I am only too glad to lie of any ser
vice,” he responded as he sat down.
“In fact, If you had not written, I
should have ventured to call.”
She sat down opposite him. The
only previous occasion on which they
had met had been at Liverpool three
years ago, when he had set sail to
take lip Ills command in West Africa.
With him had been her brother, young
Dick Raymond, then starting his mili
tary career as a subaltern, .and she and
her aunt had Journeyed down to see
the last of him.
He remembered every detail of the
short time he had spent In her com
pany; now as he met her again, after
the terrible thing that had happened,
his heart went out to her in pity.
“You know what 1 want to know,"
she said, quickly. "I only saw your
official dispatch published in the pa
pers.”
“God knows it was hard enough to
write,” he broke out.
"It wan kind of you to say what you
did—‘A gallant and promising officer,’ ”
eho exclaimed, “lint tell me all,
please.” she finished pleadingly.
“We were in Sierra I/eone when the
rising In the Hadakuta district broke
out,” he began, speaking in a low, dis
jointed voice. “I was Immediately dis
patched with au expedition to quell it;
Jfour brother came along with me, the
only other white officer who could be
jareo. vvo /,>-■ ”rr
nd encamped over night on the south
ank of the river. In the morning we
repared to cross; the natives, we un
erstood, were ambushed about two
alles away on the other side.” Ho
mused. “Suddenly, as we began to
ross, we were attacked by them in
he rear. They were in full force; we
verc surprised, and the fighting was
lesperate. Numbers of our men fell,
uid It looked as ir were were In a
Light corner, when Sheraton and his
relief party came up on the opposite
bank, just in time. We dropped flat
on our faces ami they fired over our
heads—the situation was saved.”
“And Dick?" she inquired tremu
lously.
“The last time I saw him was some
minutes before Shereton came up,” lie
said, speaking with difficulty. “He
threw up his arms suddenly and stag
gered backward on the bank.”
"Into the river'/” she whispered. He
nodded.
There was a moment's silence, then
the girl rose to her feet. The tears
were glistening in her eyes, but she
was smiling.
“If it had to bo, thank God he died
as he did—fighting at his post," site
cried, "it's something l for mo to he
proud of.”
He looked at her steadily.
“Yes, it's good to think lhat,” he
■aid slowly.
She stood before him with shining
eyes, for the moment full of enthusi
asm. Then it died away and she sank
down and covered her face with her
hands.
A little later he left with a promise
to come to luncheon ono day with
Lady Shenley. lie went straight, to the
rooms which his man had engaged
for him in Duke street, Piccadilly.
Sinking into an armchair, ho buried
himself in thought.
“Yes, I did right,” he said at last,
witli a sigh. About a week afterward
he received an invitation to luncheon
at the house in Mayfair, and he went
with a curious feeling of eager antici
pation. Violet Raymond treated him
in the light of an old friend, and he
found the couple of hours spent in her
society more enjoyable than anything
he had yet experienced. Presently,
when he rose to depart Lady Shenley,
who was then about to take her after
noon drive, offered to put him down
in Piccadilly, and he accepted grate
fully.
He sat opposite Violet and Lady
Shenley in the open victoria, replying
politely to the latter's gay and irre
sponsible chatter. He formed the im
pression that, while lardy Shenley was
kind in her way to Violet, the two had
not much in common, and in this he
was correct. The girl was built of far
more reliable stuff than her light
hearted. pleasure loving aunt.
The carriage turned into Bond street
and rolled down toward Picadilly at
a good pace. As it swept round the
corner there was a sharp cry of warn
ing from the pavement. Walter Gren
ville sprang up and saw a child run
ning across the road a few yards ahead.
She lost her footing on the greasy
wood pavement, and fell sprawling in
the roadway right in front of the
horses. The coachman pulled franti
cally at his reins, but they were going
at full speed. There was another yell
from the bystanders, then a sudden
silence. The carriage swayed to and
Companion no one la like
Unto the mind alone;
For many have been harmed by apeeoh,—
Through thinking, few or none.
Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
Hut makes not Thought to cease;
And he speaks best that hath the skiU
When lor to hold his peace.
Our wealth leaves ua at death;
Our kinsmen at the grave;
But virtues of the mind unto
The heavens with us wo have.
Wherefore, for virtue’s sake,
1 can he well content,
The sweetest time of all my life
To deem In thinking spent.
—Lord Vaux.
fro; another second and the horses
would have trampled on the child had
not a figure darling madly from the
curb, pulled her from under the horses’
hoofs and thrown her out of harm’s
way. The next moment his foot slippe
on the slimy surface and falling tho
pole of the carriage struck him and he
was trampled on.
'Die carriage came to a standstill
with a Jerk and Grenville leaped out.
Already a litlle crowd had gathered
round tho prostrate figure; ho was
carried to the pavement. Grenville
pushed his way through and leaned
or tho man. He was apparently a
tramp; his clothes were in rags, his
fgre was thin and gaunt, with some
weks’ growth of straggling black
beurd on his chin. From a wound in
hip forehead the blood was streaming
and he was moaning. As Grenville
diopped on one kuoe beside him he
slowly opened his eyes. The officer
gave a sudden start, then peered eager
ly Into the man’s face. He rose to bis
fort quickly.
"My rooms are Just opposite—no.
33 B Duke street,” ho said thickly to
the policeman who had just appeared.
"Take him there, and I will get a doc
tor at once.”
He hurried back to the carriage
where Violet was waiting pale and
trembling. ,
‘Tb rather a bad accident,” ho said
swiftly. "I’m having him taken to my
rooms. You go back now; I will let
you know later how things are.”
"A terrible misfortune!” exclaimed
Lady Shoniey, piteously. “Every one
is looking al us. Tell John to go home
at once, Violet.”
"Can’t 1 help?” said the latter anx
iously to Grenville. Ho shook his
head.
”1 will let. you know,” he repeated,
then gave directions to tho coachman;
tlie carriage turned and moved swiftly
away.
Ho approached the knot of people
again. Already a shutter had been ob
tained and the wounded man laid upon
it They raised him carefully and car
ried him across the road, the crowd of
IWftWlfflß -twfmHrfy, Gran
ville led the way to tho house and
opened tho door with a latchkey.
“Scrivener,” he called to his ser
vant, who appeared in the hall, “there
bap been an accident; fetch the near
est doctor —quick!”
ttcrlvenr ran off without his hat. The
nia.ii, now unconscious, was brought in,
carried slowly up stairs and deposited
on a bed; A few seconds afterward a
doctor arrived, and Grenville was busi
ly employed in giving him assistance.
Then, retiring to a corner of the room
he waited until the doctor had finished
tiis examination. At last he rose from
li is task. He turned and walked over
to Grenville.
“Nothing can save him,” he said in
a low voice. "He has received internal
injuries which make it impossible for
him to live more than a day at the
most. Ho will regain consciousness
again, but if we were to attempt to
move him to a hospital bo would die
on the way.”
"No, no; ho must stop here,” said
Grenville between his teeth.
Tho doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“You will not bo troubled long,” ho
said, picking up his hat and gloves.
“You can do absolutely nothing beyond
following the directions 1 have given
you; they will Iml make the few hours
he has to live more comfortable. Good
by; 1 will look in again in tho even
ing.”
Grenville accompanied the doctor to
the door, then went, back to the room.
At tho entrance ho was met by Scriv
ener, who had been in and was just
coming out. There was a scared look
on his face.
"Good God, sir, it's !” he
whispered.
“I know." lie said, with clenched
teeth. “Mind, not a word of this to
any one”
He went. Into tho room again and
sat by the bedside gazing at the white,
pinched face. Suddenly the eyes of
(lie man opened and centred them
selves on his face.
"Grenville!” lie murmured feverish
ly. "Of course —-who should it he? it’s
•Forward!’ in a few minutes now! Oh,
my head!” he finished with a moan.
Ccrivenerbrought inthe medicine which
the doctor had sent. They gave him a
dose, and presently he dropped off into
a heavy sleep. Grenville watched by
his bedside. Later the doctor came in
again.
“Ho may last through the night, but
not much longer,” he said, after an
other examination. "I have ordered a
nurse to come around.”
The next morning found the patient
still alive, but the doctor gave him but
a few hours. About 11 o'clock he had
a spell of consciousness, and Grenville
sat beside him talking (o him. Then
lie grew half delirious again.
The door opened and Scrivener ap
peared: ho beckoned Grenville aside.
’Tandy Shenley and Miss Raymond
have called, sir,” he whispered. "Lady
Shenley is in her carriage, but the
young lady insisted on seeing you, so
1 have shown her into your sitting
room."
"Stop here.” said Grenville, with a
white face, then strode to the door,
and opened it. He stepped out and
shut it quickly, for the man in his de
lirium was talking loudly.
Ho crossed to the other side of tho
landing and opened the door of his
sitting room. As he did so the man’s
voice suddenly raised itself to a shoot.
"Grenville!” he cried.
He stepped hastily into the room
and shut, the door. The girl had risen
from her seat and stood before him,
her face white and terror stricken.
“That voice!” she cried. “It was
Dick’s!"
She was gazing into his eyes fear
fully. Grenville clenched his hands;
tho veins slood out on his forehead.
“It was Dick’s!" Bho repealed. ”oh,
for tho love of heaven, tell me!”
“Yes —Dick’s” he said hoarsely. “If
you are strong enough, come with me.
But it’s almost death,” he added, look
ing at her in anguish. She moved her
self with an effort.
“I am strong enough,” she said be
tween her shut. lips. Without a word
he led her across the landing and
opened the elixir. Scrivener started
when he saw her, and then slipped out
of the room noiselessly. The girl ap
proached and gazed at the bandaged
head. Then she dropped on her knees
beside the bed and took his hand be
tween hers. Sho pressed it to her
lips.
“Dick! Dick!” sho said with a sigh.
The wild, delirious look seemed to
pass from his eyes. With a painful
effort he raised his head.
“My Vi!” ho groaned, the tears
starling to his eyes. “Oh, my God!
that. I should have brought this on
you!” He paused to recover his
strength.
“Yes, it’s a lie that Grenville told
in his dißpatch. I didn’t die like a man
at my post; I bolted like a coward!”
He paused again. “1 was in charge of
the right wing when the surprise came
Instead of holding their ground, my
men—West Indians, curse ’em—broko
and ran for their lives. To this day
I don’t know tho reason. I simply
seemed to go gray with fear. I lost
my nerve, lost my manhood. God
knows how 1 did it —I fled with them!
Grenville saw me do it!” ho finished,
panling for breath.
“Don’t Dick, dear; that’s enough!”
implored the girl.
“You must hear mo through,” he
wont on weakly. “Half a mile further
I drew up. For the first time I real
ized what I hail done. If I had had
my revolver I should have shot my
self, hut I had dropped that. I could
have died with shame. I knew I could
not go back —never look a brave man
in the face again!” He paused and
drew in a tortuous breath. “Some
how or other I managed to get down
to coast to Waru—l had a little money
with me. I got a passage in a trading
brig to Liverpool and landed there
with a few shillings in my pocket
dead to the world —for I found out
what Grenville had dono for me—bless
him! Since then it lias been a living
hell —tramping, now anil then a job,
starving! But I deserved it all! A man
without honor has no right to live and
now, now”— His head fell back on
tho pillow and a deathly gray pallor
came to his face. Ho closed his eyes.
They stood, watching him, not daring
to move. He opened his eyes once
again and wetted Ills lips.
“But the child —l’ve given my life; it
wasn't much, hut. it's bettor than noth
ing!” he gasped.
"Yes, yes, Dick; your bill’s clean!”
broke in Grenville. “Your sister knows
it; I know it.”
With a tremendous effort young Ray
mond raised himself on his elbow.
“Ah. it’s good io have a clean”—
Tho last word choked in his throat as
he fell back. With a cry the girl bent
forward and peered in his face, then
she rose, and her tear laden eyes met
Grenville's gaze.
“You need not be ashamed of him,”
he said gently.
Ono evening some months later, the
two were together again. He had been
telling her something which had
brought a delicate flush to her cheek.
Then she asked him a question.
"Why did I do it?” He paused. “Do
you remember that night at Liverpool
when 1 first met you. 1 saw what your
brother was to you—that he was ev
erything in your life. I fell in love
with you that night! Then when,
months later, that terrible thing hap
pened, I realized in a flash what it
would mean to you if I let the truth
get known, so I thought for hours,
then wrote the dispatch as you read
tt.” There was a long pause. Then
she raised her eyes to his.
“You did it because you loved me?”
she whispered. He bent down, and,
taking her in his arms, kissed her on
(ho lips.
“Because I loved you; because some
how I felt it was not his real self that
had prompted him (o act as lie did —a
mad impulse, but not his nature. And
you and I know that this was right,
that he wiped the stain out,” he said.
"Yes, we know,” she answered, with
a soft sigli of content. —The Sphere.
A Bedroom Reform.
Bedrooms have now been invaded
by the rampant reformer, says Tho
l ady. The orthodox fashion in making
up tho beds so as to gently slope
toward the feet, and having a good
sized pillow or two under the head, is
ail wrong. A prominent German doc
tor is responsible for this statement.
He asserts that after a long series of
experiments he has proved conclusive
ly that to sleep in a bed prepared in
the old fashioned way is simply to in
duce ailments of all kinds. He advo
cates a complete reversal of things.
You must sleep with your head lower
than your feet. Two or three pillows
should bo placed under the feet in or
der to carry out this theory. The re
sult, he claims, will bo amazing, being
a sure cure for insomnia, as well as
a preventive of nightmare. Sleep in
this position, it is asserted, will be
more profound, the entire nervous sys
tem will he Improved, and people In
clined to lung and kidney troubH will
be specially benefited.
Right Early.
Mother-in-I-aw (who has called to
see her daughter)—You certainly live
in a most outlandish and inconvenient
neighborhood, George. I wonder you
are not afraid of being attacked and
robbed on your way home from busi
ness of an evening.
Her Daughter—There is no fear of
that, mamma; he never comes home
until all the bad characters have gone
to bed. —Ally Sloper.
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
THIEVES ARE STUPID.
Modern Invention line Driven Out the
Crafty, Kind.
te people who nowadays give the
•f'Yeetives most trouble Bre the mem
bers of that vast horde of petty thieves,
both white und black, that infest every
great city,” said one of the most ef
ficient detectives of the Washington
department. “The days of mammoth
burglaries, diamond robberies anil bril
liant thieving operations have passed,
perhaps never to return, but instead of
tlie really shrewd, calculating and bold
thief of half a century ago we have
to-day a mob of petty pilferers, who
are far from possessing one-tenth part
of the brains and wit of the old-time
thief, hut manage, nevertheless, to give
tlie police a vast amount of trouble.
“Tlie progress of invention has put
the shrewd thief and burglar out of
business. Say, for example, a man
steals several thousand dollars. The
moment he does so he realizes that In
order to retain his ill-gotten gains he
must leave the scene of the crime,
realizing that he is nowise prepared
to cope with modern detective and
police methods. Probably before he
leaves the city telegrams and telephone
messages have preceded him to the
cities of the United States and Canada,
and he is nabbed the moment he
reaches his destination. But supposing
that he escapes all these traps and
reaches some foreign country. Why,
he is simply in as bad a plight there
as lie was before leaving home. Now
adays there 1s hardly government
or country with whieC.lL>—United
States has not entered inVrnn under
standing whereby criminals are caught
and returned, and what few and far
distant states with which our Govern
ment has failed to draw up any such
arrangement can be very easily man
aged in ease Uncle Sam wants to get
any of his missing children back.
"The result is that no really bright
or shrewd person would think of under
taking a jol> of burglary or stealing in
this age. None but the desperately
poor, the degenerates, morphine users,
tlie submerged tenth, so to speak, now
adays, practice stealing. They are too
stupid to realize the danger of such a
course, and plunge Jiendlong Into a
career that must sooner or later land
them behind the bars. They spend
their nights hanging about aristocratic
quarters, like that surrounding Dupont
Circle, and if a door should happen to
be open or a window up something will
be missing from the place next morn
ing. They dispose of their stolen plun
der in a somewhat ludicrous, jack-daw,
animal sort of way, hiding it as a dog
would a bone, and thus giving the de
tectives and police a deal of trouble
hunting it up, not because they are
Shrewd in the matter, but owing simply
to the stupid, bungling manner in
which they dispose of stuff in ways
that a sensible person would never
think of.” —AVashlngton Post.
Sportive Students.
The discipline committee of the Mis
souri University faculty is securing
evidence against students of the en
gineering department, charged with
-putting an toon elephant on. the-tiißi
naole above the dome of the academic
building. The feat accomplished by
the students was extraordinary. Ac
css to the interior of the pinnacle had
been barred by three massive iron
doors, fastened with padlocks, the
keys to which the proctor carried in
li!s pocket. Under cover of darkness
tho students carried a galvanized iron
elephant, Weighing perhaps over a
thousand pounds, to the dome above
the building, and after forcing the
Iron doors, dragged their burden up
ward to the highest point of the pin
nacle, 200 feet above ground. The
next morning the elephant could be
seen for a distance of five miles, and
farmers came to town to inquire about
It. In removing the elephant a gang
of workmen destroyed a section of the
slate roof, and ten students must pay
the damages or be expelled.—New
York Commercial Advertiser.
Wildcats In London.
ft lias long been a source of regret to
eae that sea serpents, giant gooseber
ries and other “noyful fowl” should
flourish only in the summertime. Win
ter in London is very dull, and a sen
sation helps to pass it pleasanily. Na
turally enough, then, 1 welcome the ap
pearance of wildcats of rare breed,
large size and astounnirg ferocity to
be found by mighty hunters some
where under the Savoy Hotel. These
wildcats are of great height; their eyes
are of extraordinary brightness; they
vary in size, shape and color, accord
ing to the genius of the reporter. If
Tartarin of Tarascoiufvere with us
now lie would lie the ihvt man to send
out at the head of an expedition for
tlieir extermination. The great dan
ger of tlieir continued immunity should
not be overlooked. In course of time
they may grow to the size of bullocks,
like the cat in the “Arabian Nights”
story of the hunchback who married a
beautiful princess against her will. I
have heard of wildcats iu London be
fore these were discovered, but they
were always to be found east of Tem
ple Bar and were spoken about on the
Stoek Exchange. They were often of
a South African, West African or Aus
tralian variety. The Savoy cats are
lioipe bred, and I look with interest to
the time when one will,be on view.-*
Illustrated (London) Sporting News.
A Model Telephone Bo*.
A young couple in Brooklyn have re
cently invested in a fine old house on
the Heights and have remodeled It to
suit their own taste. Both of them
have taste of a good quality and the
money to make it effective, so the
I house is a model of attractiveness. One
| thing which is particularly interesting
I is the use to which they have put au
old-time niche which was in the curve
of the staircase. This was built in
houses, apparently, for statuary, but
line old statuary or any other kind is
a rare heirloom in this country, so one
j must conclude that the eyesore on the
stairway had no utility. This one nas
been screened off from view by an-in
curving door of stained glass in delici
ously soft tints and of a design ob
vious executed for that sole purpose.
Inside is an electric light which sheds
its modified rays on the stairs, and this
j cupboard makes a place for the tele
| phone. As this is near the top of the
stairs ami the living room adjacent,
nothing could be me re convenient.—
New York Times.
EASED THE MATE'S CONSCIENCE.
The Answer on a Coastwise Vessel
Was Grateful to the Seafarer.
‘‘Coming up from New Orleans to
New York on one of the fast freighters
that carry passengers," said a man at
the Astor house, “I got on pretty good
terms with the first mate —which is
something of an achievement, by the
way, as the average seafaring man has
even a greater contempt for ‘the land
lubber’ than the cowboy has for the
tenderfoot. Perhaps it was because
he took me for a physician. One of
the passengers had been amusing him
self by trying to guess the occupations
of the others through their casual re
marks in the course of conversation,
and on the strength of something I had
said the word was passed around that
I was a doctor of medicine.
“The mate had something on his
mind, and one day he took me into his
confidence. ‘On our last trip to New
York,’ he said, ‘there was a chap from
Cincinnati in a pretty bad way, with
booze. He began to see spiders and
things, and it made me sort of uneasy,
as there wasn’t a doctor on board.
Pretty soon he got violent, and I had
to do something. So I got the irons
on him, and gave him a good big dose
of morphine to kind of soothe him, and
then locked him up in my own state
room. I couldn’t have done more for
my own brother, could I?’
‘‘l silently assented.
“ ‘Well, would you believe it?’ said
the mate, in an injured tone, ‘when I
went to get him up, the chap was
dead.’
“ ‘Dear me! what did you do?’ I
asked.
“‘Do!’ echoed the mate. ‘There
wasn’t but the one thing to do. Wo
sewed him up in tarpaulin and sank
him. Kind of a wet grave, too, for a
chap that had been so set against
water when he was a-living. But, say,
doctor, I want your honest opinion. Do
you think that I did all that I could do
in reason for that man?’
“ ‘Of course,’ I assured him, ‘of
course. The orthodox treatment for
a man with delirium tremens is irons
and morphine.’
“Then the mate left me with a clear
conscience.”—New York News.
Borrowing on Salaries.
“Persons who want to borrow small
sums on salary loans,’ said a man who
advertised that he was open for busi
ness of that character, “invariably
stipulate that their employers shall
know nothing about it. In the major
ity of cases this is out of the ques
tion, although of course we do not tell
the borrower so. But we have means
of finding out whether the applicants
are telling the truth about the salary
they want to borrow upon without go
ing directly to the employer.
“In fact, it does not always pay us
to take this precaution I went to the
employer of a man who wanted to bor
row SIOO on a good salary. To my as
tonishment, the employer called the
young man in, gave him a sound lec
ture on extravagant habits which nec
essitated dealings with men in my bus
iness, and drew a check for the money
on the spot, to he gradually deducted
from his salary. Nothing in that for
me, was there? The non-borrowing
public knows little of our trade except
the occasional stories of extortionate
interest we charge on loans and the
extreme measures we are compelled
to adopt sometimes in order to ‘make
good.’ They do not know that the
money lender is the natural prey of
the born deadbeat and that, shrewd as
we may be, we have to count up sev
eral hundred dollars a year on his side
of the balance sheet.” —New York
Times.
Water With Meats.
Once more has the natural appetite
been vindicated. It has been custom
ary to decry the drinking of large
quantities of water at meals, the in
ference being that It interfered with
the digestive processes. To determine
the truth of the matter a Russian in
dieting experiment. During one period
he confined his water drinking to in
tervals between meals, and during an
other period he drank the same quan
tity of water, but consumed it with
his food. The results of the experi
ments showed that tho mixed diet
was somewhat more thoroughly digest
ed when the bulk of the water was
taken near meal times. While the ex
periments were not extensive enough
to warrant an absolute deduction, they
warrant the conclusion “that a reason
able amount of fluid taken at meal
times cannot have any had effect.”
The Alibi industry.
During the Dreyfus case the fact
was revealed that there existed, in
the Passage de l'Opera, an agency
which, for a fixed fee, would have let
ters posted in any European capital to
addreses in Paris. Asa means of con
stituting an alibi it was ingenious if
not very moral, remarks the London
Graphic. Erring French husbands
could prove their presence in London
or Berlin, while they were really mak
ing excursions on French territory.
But, according to the Paris press, this
idea has been further improved upon.
An agency exists which will provide
the trunks of the pseudo traveler with
authentic labels of hotels and railway
companies, so that he can trimphantly
point to this proof of his peregrina
tions. The agency is said to be en
titled the “Societe des Voyages Immo
biles,” and to be provided with labels
of the mosl authentic descriptions. I
imagine that the sceptical Italian
proverb, “Se non e vero e ben trova
to,” will about suit the case. I need
not say that, according to our French
friends, the headquarters of this alibi
company is in London.
Plague’s Ravages.
The plague, which has now been in
India for six and a half years, shows
no sign of abating. There have been
well over 25,n0n deaths a week from
this cause for some time past. One
week the number reached 29,647. It
is calculated that since 1896 over 2,-
000,000 peipie have died in India from
the plague. The disease defies every
attempt hitherto made to eradicate
it. Broadly speaking, no part of In
dia has escaped infection. London Ex
press.
In bulk the world’s product of pota
toes equals that of wheat and corn
combined.
A 800 tED
HU Eye*. HU Ear*, HU fail, .ll Mouth,
All Helped.
When two years old Ben was noted
for intelligence and industry. One of
the herders remarked of him, one day,
that he could do anything except talk.
Moss became indignant.
“Anything except talk!” he retorted.
“He can talk. Yv'hy, we do a lot of
talking on the prairie. He talks with
his eyes, with his cars, with his tail,
sometimes with his mouth.”
The others laughed at this, but It
was true. The man and the dog, in
the hours of watching the sheep graz
ing, held lengthy conversations. Moss
sitting with his back agast a big gray
rock, Ben with bis head upon the man’s
knees.
“Feeling all right to-day?” Moss
would ask.
“Yes!” Ben would answer. “Fine as
silk.”
"It’s nice weather now, and the
sheep are doing well.”
“You bet; this weather makes a fel
low feel as If he could jump out of
his skin, and the flieep never did bet
ter.”
“I think we’ll try anew grazing
ground for them soon, though. The
flock needs a change.”
“Yep-yap! That’s a good idea. In
fact, everything you say is all right.
You are a great man—the greatest in
the world.”
“Yonder goes a jack-rabbit, Ben,
loafing along. S’pose you try him a
whirl.”
“Not any for me. I got rid of the
jack-rabbit habit when I was little.”
“Down by Mustang Water-hole I saw
wolf-tracks one day, Ben,” said Moss
tn a whisper.
The muscles stiffened, the ears lifted
Slightly, the tail became straight as an
Iron bar, the moist black lips curled up
ward, and a low, thunderous growl
Sounded in the dog’s throat. It said
a a plainly as words, and more strongly:
“I know about ’em. I hear ’em some
times at night. I was afraid of ’em
fahen I was a little chap,but I’ve got
over that. They mean harm to our
flheep, and if they come around I’ll nail
’®jn sure.”
“Good boy, Ben! You’re not afraid
<Ja! a wolf as big as a house, and you’ve
got more sense than the ranch-boss.”
This was praise that could be an
swered only by y. series of rapid leaps,
a dozen short b rks, and a tremendous
ncurryJug round and round. Then Ben
would make a complete circle of the
flock, driving in the stragglers, and,
returning to a dignified seat on the
hill, cock his eye at the sun to esti
mate the tithe of day—From H. S.
Canfield’s “Den,” in St. Nicholas.
New frames For Old Vices.
The tendency of the nge Is to find ex
cuses; to persuade ourselves that an
action which at first sight looks de
testably 1/ad is in reality not one which
tlie community ought to punish severer
ly and swiftly, but one for which wo
should fry to find “extenuating circum
stances;'’ to persuade ourselves, in
fact, that black is seldom anything
more than at worst dark gray, and
that in Some cases it is white to all
interns and purposes. If a financier
organizes t. gigantic swindle, or a
clever woman ruins a hundred men,
no vindictive punishment follows; it
Is decided to be inconvenient to prose
cute, or men find themselves laughing
that there are still so many fools in
the world. If a woman kills her para
mour, or a man in a passion stabs a
nagging wife, the first thought may be
Of the rope, but the second is of a peti
tion to the Home Secretary. Last, if
I he marriage tie is broken—especially
In high places—there is an immediate
tendency to invest with a mist of ro
mance and pretext finding wlmt is
nothing better than weakness and vul
garity. Is the tendency good or bad?
If the people decide that they are
only going to hang men and old or
ugly women, you come perilously near
the doctrine that before a woman com
mits a murder she must look iu the
glass. lilUrder and swindling are ugly
words, but no nation has ever been,
or ever will be, the better for using
pleasanter synonyms for crime.—Lon
don Spectator. •
JJMiedlct Arnold In 1775.
The prestige of Arnold at the begin
ning of the Revolution is thus reflect
ed by Professor Justin H. Smith’s de
scription in the January Century of
the heroic “battle with the wilderness’’
in the march to Quebec, under Ar
nold’s command;
“The name of the leader, too, excited
enthusiasm. Dorothy Dudley and the
rest of the ladies in Cambridge loved
to gossip about a man whom they de
ncribed ‘as daringly and desperately
brave, sanguinely hopeful, of restless
activity, intelligent and enterprising,’
gay and gallant; and the soldier lads
told one another admiringly how he
marched through the wieket-gate at
old Ticonderoga shoulder to shoulder
With Ethan Alien! how he threatened
to break into the magazine at New
Haven unless the selectmen would
hand over the keys within five minutes.
When his company heard the news of
Lexington and wanted to set out for
Cambridge; and even bow he used to
astonish the other boys, years before,
by seizing tbe great water-wheel and
going around with it through water
and through sky.’’
The “ Athletic Awakening.”
Prior to ISSO not a single record for
events on standard athletic champion
ship programmes was held by an
American. They were all credited to
Englishmen, Scotchmen and Irishmen.
To-day, twenty-two years later, Amer
icans hold nearly all records. This is
one result of the “athletic awakening’’
—the increased interest in outdoor
sports in the United States; but it is
by no means the most valuable. Better
health, sounder,stronger bodies, calmer
minds, less tendency to dyspepsia and
nervousness these are worth more
than records; they seem in this case to
go together.—Youth’s Companion.
When Guests Are Expected,
In preparing a room for a guest, If
only for a few days, do not neglect to
place a variety of books at his dis
posal, says the Washington Star. If
there is no bookshelf in the room,
books and magazines should be placed
on a low table near the window. Many
a visitor lias gone through tortured,
sleepless nights in a strange house,
svith not a line of reading master to
be got at. - - r-j
FORCED TO LABOR.
Count Rumford’s Method of Supprea*.
ing Beggars.
There has been such frequent refer
ence of late in th# English and Amer
ican press to Count Rumford in con
nection with the question of dealing
with mendicancy, suggestions being
made editorially that it would be well
both in London and in this country to
take some leaves out of his book and
to follow his example, that a number
of letters have been received from
readers of The TYibune asking for in.
formation about this nobleman. The
writer's in almost every case seem to
be ignorant of the fact that this dis
tinguished man, who flourished at the
beginning of the 19th century, and
whose reputation remains internation
al, was an American, a native of New
England, who prior to becoming Count
Rumford bore the name of Benjamin
Thompson. They also seem unaware
that the methods which he devised for
dealing with mendicancy in Bavaria
are somewhat similar to those em
ployed by the Salvation Army today in
its Industrial branches, with this dis
tinction, that where Count Rumford,
by virtue of the powers invested in
him by the Bavarian crown, was abl
to use compulsion, the Salvation Army
can only employ persuasion. With
this exception, Count Rumford may ba
said to have been the originator of
the Salvation Army's industrial ideas.
The count’s story is indeed a
strange one. He was born a Woburn,
Mass., in 1753; was errand boy to a
storekeeper at Salem, salesman in a
store in Boston, school teacher at
Bradford-on-the Merrimack, and at 19
married a rich widow, a Mrs. Rolfe,
daughter of a minister of tho name of
Walker, and was the first settler at
Rumford, now called Concord, in New
Hampshire. Governor Wentworth of
that state made him major of militia,
and sent him in 1776, on the evacua
tion of Boston by the royal troops, to
carry dispatches to England. There
Lord George Germaine, secretary of
state, took a fancy to him, gave him
an appointment, and four years latef
made him under secretary of state. 11l
1779 he was elected a fellow of th*
Royal Society. Toward the close of
the War for Independence he was nom
inated to a cavalry command in Amer
ica, but in 1783 quitted the British
army with the rank and half pay of
lieutenant-colonel.
Traveling cn the Continent with
Gibbon, he was introduced by the lat
ter to the Elector of Bavaria, who in
vited him to enter the civil and mili
tary service of that state. Having ob
tained the leave of the British govern
ment to accept the prince’s offter, and
after having been knighted by King
Georgs 111., he remained for 11 years
at Munich as Minister of war, minister
of police and grand chamberlain. He
reorganized the Bavarian army, and
suppressed mendicity by much the
same means now employed by the Sal
vation army in its industrial branches.
In one day he caused no fewer than
3000 beggars in Munich and its sub
rubs alone to be arrested by military
patrols and transferred to an indus
trial settlement prepared for their re
ception, where they were housed
and fed, and forced not only to support
themselves by their labors, but were
also used for the benefit of the elec
toral revenues.
In 1791 he was created a count of
tlio Holy Roman Empire, and chose
his title of Rumford from the name of
tho American township of which his
first wife’s family belonged. Toward
the close of the 18th century he re
turned to England to live, and founded
the Royal institution, which received
its charter of royal incorporation from
King George 111. in 1800. In 1804 he
transferred his abode to France, and
there married as his second wife tho
wealthy widow of Lavoisier, the cele
brated chemist. He died suddenly in
Paris in 1814, and his name is com
memorated in this country, among
other things, by the Rumford profes
sorship of Harvard university.
Baby’s Yell Rocks the Cradle.
No more walking the floor at mid
night with the baby yelling his little
lungs out; no more sitting half asleep,
rocking the cradle and singing idiotic
lullabies to induce “mamma’s little
blessing” to go to sleep again. A
Swiss professor has changed all this.
He lias produced an apparatus which,
being attached to the cradle, is set in
motion by the child’s cries and per
forms all the duties of a soothing
nurse.
Should baby wake up in the night
and lift its voice in a cry of anger,
pain or loneliness, the noise of the
equalling causes wires connected with
a special sort of phonograph to vi
brate. This vibration sets the phono
graph going and lullabies are poured
out with a vigor which it is impossible
for a sleepy nurse to equal. At the
same time a clockwork arrangement
is put in motion and the cradle is
rocked.
As soon as the child stops howling
tho phonograph ceases its song and
the clockwork stops rocking the cradle.
The harder the baby yells the harder
the cradle rocks and the louder the
phonograph sings its lullaby.
Sage Advice from the Driver.
The Fifth avenue stage driver is
usually endowed with a strong sense
of humor. Whether the following
“bull” was intentionel or not does not
appear:
An elderly woman entered the stage
at a downtown point and asked to be
let down at Forty-ninth street. That
point was duly reached and the driver
pulled up while the woman alighted.
To his surprise she shook her umbrel
la at him and cried:
“And now I should like to know
what you mean by carrying me a mile
past my stopping place?"
“But, lady, you akeu to be let off at
Forty-ninth street.”
“Well, I meant Twenty-ninth street,
and even if I didn’t say so, you ought
to know where I live as I ride in your
old ‘bus every week.”
“Well, ma'am,’ replied the driver.
“I’ve been driving these here stages
for going on 10 years, and I ain’t
been accused of carrying a pas
senger past the corner at which
they wanted to get off. It’s my opin
ion that if you don’t know where you
live you’d better move. —New York
Mail and Express. .