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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. .