KENTON'S TXRTKTZW TiftPTnuo. kt I
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Munyon's, find and Jefferson streets,
Philadelphia. Pa.
. . . r ftiiMi ,
Irving w;u playing "M -lcVih," to
run.i til - sio'.y in "Iniprcu!on o Hen
ry Irving, r.nd ho lir.rl renc!u-l the
pl.T-o w!htj Macbeth orders lianquo's
ghost to leave (he banquet boa-d.
''Hence, liorriblo sludow u.-irml
mockery, hence!" said Irving, In his
most tragic tones, and with a convul
sive shudder he Rank to the ground,
drawing hin robe about his face.
On Banquo withdrawing, a voice
came from high up in the gallery:
"It's all right now, 'Enery;
lone."
OlaM mndn Into microscopic ohjeo
'lives is r"e-r pontl" than gold.
PROVED BY TIME.
No Fmr of Amy Farther Treable.
David Price, Corydon, la., says: "I
-as in the last stage of kidney trou
ble lame, weak, run down to a mere
skeleton. My back
was bo bad I could
hardly walk and the
kidney secretions
much disordered. A
week after I began
using Doan's Kidney.
Pills I could walk
without a cane, and
as I continued my
health gradually re
turned. I was so
grateful I made a public statement of
my case, and now seven years have
passed, and I am still perfectly well."
Sold by all dealers. EOc. a box.
Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y.
Straight Good.
Charlea A. Dana, for many years the
editor of the New York Sun, believed
that the work of reporting should be
worthy the best there Is in a man. A
contributor to the American Magazine
gives several anecdotes of Mr. Dana's
Aealings with his reporters, many of
whom learned from him lessons by
which they profited and rose In their
profession. On one occasion a reporter
iomplalned because he was kept on
police court work.
' "Young man," said Dana, "the
greatest police court reporter who
aver lived was named Charles Dick
ens." Another compatned that they had
"boiled down" his story.
"The story of the crucifixion was
told In six hundred words," said
Dana.
He used to come out, continues the
contributor, all excitement, and point
ing to a mark on the margin of a clip
ping, say to his managing editor:
"A great sentence there, Mr. Lord.
Who wrote It?"
"Who did that football 'story?" he
asked once.
When Dana put such a question, his
Interlocutor used to tremble; there
was no telling from his tone whether
he mean to praise or to blame.
Mr. Lord named the man.
"It's Homer, that's what It Is," said
Dana.
"The reporter," he said again,
"wields the real power of the press."
This, with all that It Implies, was
the thing which Dana left to his
world.
Locking- Ahead.
"Old chap, what are you growing
those umbrageous aide whiskers for?"
"I'll tell you If you won't say anything-
about It. I know of a big de
partment store where there's going to
be a vacancy In the floorwalker's Job
In a few weeks, and I'm going to apply
for It." Chicago Tribune.
Color and I.tea.
"But eomettmes lt'a right to tell a
white lie. Isn't It?"
"Perhaps. But I notice that when a
man geta that Idea once'. It isn't long
till he becomes color blind." Clove
land Leader.
THREE REASONS.
Back with Tm Lea aad Tea
Fineera.
A Boston woman who Is a fond
Wither writes an amusing article
about her experience feeding her boys.
Among other things she says:
"Three chubby, rosy-cheeked boys, Bob,
Jack and Dick, aged 6, 4 and 2 years
respectively, are three of our reasons
. for using and recommending the food,
Crape-Nuts, for these youngsters have
been fed on Grape-Nuts since infancy,
and often between meals when other
children would have been given can
dy. "I gave a package of Grape-Nuts
a neighbor whose 3-year-old child wan
a weazened little thing, 111 half the
time. The little tot ate the Grape
Nuts and cream greedily and the
mother continued the good work and
It was not long before a truly wonder
ful diange manifested Itself In the
child's face and body. The results
were remarkable, even for Grape
Nut. "Both husband and I use Grape-Nuts
every day aud keep strong and well
and have three of the finest, healthjeit
boys you can find in a day's march."
Many mothers instead of destroying
the children's stomach with candy
and cake give the youngsters a hand
ful of Grape-Nuts when they are beg
ging for something In the way of
sweets. The result u toon shown in
greatly Increased health, strength and
nwutal activity.
"There's a Reason." .
Lock In pi. sa. for the famous little
boo!:, "The Road to Wellvllle."
Ever read the above letter? A
new one appears from time to time.
They are genuine, true,' and full of
Ituniaa interest.
afi-!
OD2
Cannot Buy
Author of "A Crook.4 Path." "Maid, Wife or Widow." "By
Woman's Wit." "Beaton's narfialn." "A Life Intoreat."
"Mont'i Choice." "A Woman' Heart."
J
rf,fmmn II I ti h
CIIAPTFlt VIII. (Continued.)
"Are you Irish? You don't mind my
asking? Some people don't like the
Irish; I delight In them. My father's
great friend Is an old general, a deal
old thing Sir Patrick Desmond; Is he
any relative of yours?"
"I have heard of him, but If he is in
any way connected with me It Is so
distant that I cannot 'call cousins
with Mm."
"If he comes down to the Court
while you are here, I will ask you to
meet him. Then you are Irish? And
I am sure you sing and play?"
"I play a little."
"That Is delightful. You can play
an accompaniment? I can't bear play
ing; and I want to try some duets
with George Lumley to-night."
"I will do my best," said Hope.
"Don't you think George Lumley
very good-looking? He Is very good
style, too, and so like Lord Everton. I
am rather glad he Is at Hounslow.
This place Is too far, and yet too near,
to be amusing." She chattered on till
the gentlemen came to seek then! In
their fragrant retreat, when Miss Da
ere ceased to bestow attention or
words on Hope. They soon adjourned
to the larger drawing room, where the
singers discovered that Miss Desmond
had quite a genius for playing accom
paniments, and time flew fast till the
carriages were announced.
"Where In the world did you 'And
that nice Miss Desmond, Mrs. Bavllle?"
exclaimed Miss Dacre. "She Is so quiet
and well bred. Lots to say, too. Do
bring her over to the Court 8he could
be of Infinite use to me In playing ac
companiments," "Very likely; but, you see, I engaged
her to be of use to me." x
"To be sure," laughed the thought
less girl. "How frightfully sharp you
are!" And she blew her hostess a
kiss as she left the room.
"What a glorious night!" said Lum
ley, with a sigh of relief, sinking on
an ottoman beside Hope. "Couldn't
you manage to come out for a stroll
before saying good night finally?"
Hope looked at him for a moment
gravely, then a smile began In her
eyes and sparkled on "Up and cheek.'
"Yes, It could be easily managed, ac
cording to novel-regulations," she said.
"I escort my kind patroness to her
room, receive her blessing, and return
to my own, then I throw a mantilla
over my beautiful locks, steal down to
the garden door, which Is of course left
open, and Join you In the moonlit
shrubbery."
"Precisely," said Lumley, laughing.
"It's a lovely picture. I earnestly hops
you will realize It."
"A moonlight atroll Is a harmless
amusement under certain conditions,
which do not exist at present for me,"
and she went away to bid good-night to
the vlcaress and see that she was
wrapped up. Then, meeting Mrs. 8a
vllle on her way up stairs, she accom
panied her to her bedroom, rang for
her maid, and exchanged a few words
with her until that functionary ap
peared. "I am woefully tired," said Mrs. 8a
Ttlle, throwing herself into a low chair.
"Really, life la too wearisome In Its
disappointing sameness. If Richard
will Invite these stupid chattering
boys, I shall dine In my own room.
Mary Dacre Is sillier than she used to
be, and Mr. Rawson writes that he
cannot come down till the Sunday
after next. We must begin 'Fromant
Jeune' to-morrow, Miss Desmond, and
get away as much as we can from the
present"
"I shall be very pleased. It Is con
aldered one of Daudet's best; and 1
have never read It."
When Hope Desmond reached her
own room she undressed rapidly, and
putting out the candles, brushed her
long hair by the moonlight, while she
thought earnestly, "How disappointing
of Mr. Rawson! I hoped he-would be
here next Sunday; and I have so much
to aay to him. True, I can write; but
a few spoken words face to face arc
worth a doien letters. It will not be
easy to get him to myself, but as mv
own especial friend I have a right tc
demand an Interview. How weary
that poor woman Is! and far from
well. Poor and nearly friendless as 1
am, i wouia not cnange with her. No,
no; I understand life better than she
doea, though she has lived so much
longer. How her heart must ache when
she thinks of her son! t'nder all her
hardness and pride she yearns for the
love she does not know how to win
ii une win only love me!" Then she
twisted up her hair, and, throwing
nerself on her knees, prayed long and
fervently, with tightly -clasped hands
while tears streamed unheeded from
the eyes that loss than an hour ar;o
n:ia smiled so saucily on Captain Lum
fey-
The two months have narly ex
pired," shii mused, wh.n. having rls-m
she loaned against the window-frame
and looked cut on tlia moonlit lawn
"But I am quite, sure nhe will not nd
m" away. I do not want to go an
strangers again. It Is awful to have
no h,::in. Tut with pr.icllce, with th
effort to seem brave. courv; comes.
Taking some rollc fowu up In a lit
tie silk has and lmn round ht r neck
a in. a main or lnu.a!) i:oii. site
kissed It lovingly and lay down to
rcMt.
I' or Hid n'xt ecu;)! ' of duyi Mrs. Sa
Mile Instituted J v. ip h-idaili k
Miut htrmlf un w'.f'j Mis IMsiioml "n
her own special r.ioi-iiitix room, leaving
her ecu and his .-iu.-k to eutertalu
each other. The th.rd day Hope went
out for a short strill. as Mr. Ssillle
evidently did nu waat bur company
n a visit she went to pny at the
Court.
Rho had not gone far when she was
overtaken by George Lumley, who Im
mediately began to condolo with hei
on what he was pleased to term her
false Imprisonment." She tr.!ked with
him gayly enough, but always with
what he chose to term "a tinge of In
dulgence" In her manner, and then
turned homeward sooner than she
would otherwise have done.
"I must bid you good by. I am go
ing back to my quarters this evening,"
he said. "But I shall be at the Court
next week. , I do hope you'll come and
help us In those duets. Miss Dacre
has planned no end of practising."
"I shall be glad to help you If I
may."
"How submissive you are! You must
have an awfully dull time of It."
"I do not feel dull. Mrs. Seville Is
a very Intelligent woman, and, aB we
differ on every subject, we have abund
ance of Interesting conversation."
"I should think so. Do you ever con
vert her?"
"I am afraid not; but I may make
a little Impression; constant dropping,
you know, effects something. I want
to convert her to the belief that man
does not live by bread alone."
"I see; that he wants the sugar
plums of true love. How tame and
flat live Is without them! I think I
understand; that Jolly old boy Raw
son has put you here to be Hugh's ad
vocate." . "By no means. He recommended me
aa a suitable person to act as reader
and amanuensis to yonr aunt, and I
hope to do him credit."
"Do you know you puxxle me Im
mensely?" "A little mental exercise will do you
good."
"Mental exercise! you give my mind
plenty to do. You are never out of
my thoughts."
"Good-morntng, Captain Lumley,"
said Miss Desmond, with great com
posure. "I shall go In by the side
door." And she turned down a nar
row path which led to a private en
trance at the foot of the stair com
municating with a wing which con
tained Mrs. Seville's rooms.
Lumley stood for a moment uncer
tain what to do. He dared not follow
her, and he was reluctant to confess
himself checkmated. His generally
placid face grew set and stormy.
"What a provoking womanl She
treats me aa If I were a mere school
boy, whom she could play with In safe
ty. It Is no longer play to me; It
shall not be play to her. I never was
treated In this way before; and there
Is an odd sort of liking for me under It
all. What speaking eyee ehe has! I
have seen dozens of handsomer wom
en, but there's a sort of fascination
about her. I will not let her foil me."
He walked rapidly away to the lonely
recesses of the wood, more disturbed
and resolute than he had ever felt In
his self-indulged llfo.
The Sunday but one after this Inter
view, Mr. Rawson came down In time
for church. Mre. Savllle chose to stay
at home. The eervlce was short, for
the vicar did not think U necessary to
give a sermon every week. When It
was over, there was a gathering of
neighbors, and greetings outside the
porch.
"I wish you would come back to
luncheon, MIse Desmond," said Miss
Dacre. "You might, as Mrs. Savllle Is
not here. Lord Everton came rather
unexpectedly last night, and I am sure
you would like him. He has been ask
ing If you are still alive."
"I am very eorry I cannot assure
him personally of my safety; but I
cannot absent myself In this uncere
monious manner. Then I have my
friend Mr. Rawson here."
"What a nuisance! I am coming
over after luncheon to ask for assist
ance In getting up a concert to collect
funds for a new school-house; so, till
this afternoon, adieu." She stepped
Into her pony-carriage, attended by
Richard Savllle, and drove away.
"As we have plenty of time, I will
take you by a little longer way back,
Mr. Rawson," said Hope.
"I place myself In your hands, my
dear young lady." As they started,
Lumley, who had stood aside till Miss
Dacre drove off. Joined them, and for
a short way the conversation was
chiefly between him and the family
lawyer.
Lumley had been exceedingly nlco
and respectful whenever he had met
Hope Desmond during the last week,
consequently they had been the best
of friends, and thi captain flattered
himself he was maliins prodigious
strides. Arriving at a bend of the
road where a turnstile admitted to a
pathway leading across a field aud into
Mrs. Saxllle's woods. Miss Desmond
lKU.d, and said "Good -morning" very
decidedly.
"Mr. llawson la good enough to lie
my guardian, and I claim the right to
litre him with my affairs whenever I
can."
"I understand," said the gallant htu
znr, good-hutnoredly, und slopped with
a tow.
."Tliat stroke was we'.! played." said
Mr. llawson when th-jy had got cK-.ir
of tliH gate. "I want to fay au.i to
hear a Kood der.l, and th. jwtth is per
ii vf-rlng."
"Is he so youn??" asked l!o;e ' t
t'.iousht him an amusing iny, it 1
gill to see hi Is older t'i.in I l.r.-n
Ineu."
"Ho will mvtr sej tw.v.ity sHven
a:in. Put to biulnns-i. I am glad to
ee ou it on so well with Mri. 3&
vllle I thought yon would.
"Tea, better than I expected. It WM
terribly nervoua work at first Firm
ness and courago are Indispensable;
the slightest appearance of the white
feather, and she would almost uncon
sciously crush you. It Is not easy to
Impress her gently and politely with
a seusa of one's complete Independ
ence; but this Is essential. The tyran
nical tendencies in her have been tre
mendously developed by circumstances
and training: hut I really believe It Is
a relief to her to And a companion
who neither quarrels nor cringes; she
brcatheg a freer air, her mind is more
healthily exercised. I never conceal
an opinion, and I try to be as true as
possibleand to defend my views as
temperately as I can. I also try to
give her the Impression that she is on
trial as well as myself."
"That Is n dangerous game; but you
may succeed. The day after to-morrow
completes your two months. I
suspect she would bo sorry If you left.
Tell me, have you had a chance of
putting In a word for the poor prodi
gal?" Hope shook her head. "It Is too soon
to attempt It." she said.
"Now sit down here on this fallen
tree; for I have a long story to tell
you."
(To be continued.)
FIGHT FOR ZULU CHIEFTATJT.
Dattle of Womti Mlaaloa Worker
Asralnat Brltlah Land Orabbera.
Two women In Natal are at present
engaged In fighting the whole force of
the British government. The battle
waged by the Misses Colenso two sis
ters la carried on without visible
signs of outward warfare; and yet It
Is a struggle as daring, as strenuous,
and as adventurous as any real en
gagement Embarking on a qulxotlo
attempt to rescue the native chief
Dlnlzulu from the colls of British dip
lomacy, they have spent almost every
cent they had In the world, a London
letter says.
For the last five years the eldest
later Harriet has been the guide,
philosopher and friend of the native
chief, even going to St. Helena and
staying there near him while he wait
ed In prison until her efforts got him
out, only to be tried and reconvicted
on another count The devotion of the
Colenso sisters to the cause of the
black chief has won the respect of
even their inveterate enemies, the
English foreign wire-pullers who wish
to turn the land of Dlnlzulu over to
white exploiters.
In many quarters of the globe the
fight waged by the Colenso slaters
haa evoked the sympathy of thousands
of people who have not even stopped
to consider the actual merlta of Dinl
sulu's cause. Many Influential Eng
lish people, Including Sir Charles
DHke, Lord Northbourne and Lady
Schwann, have recently taken up the
cudgels on behalf of the two brave
women; and In London an organiza
tion has recently been formed to raise
funds to restore to them some of the
actual money they have spent In de
fending Dlnlzulu at his recent trial for
alleged high treason.
As a matter of fact, the only change
of which the black chief haa been
found guilty is harboring a few
wretched natives fleeing from British
rifles In a faked-up rebellion deliber
ately planned for the purpose of break
ing down the influence at Dlnlzulu
among the natives. The entire move
ment against Dlnlzulu is but an at
tempt on the part of the British to
grab the countries belonging to the
Zulu nation.
No whit3 people In the wholo of
South Africa have greater knowledge
and experience of the Natal natives
than tte two sisters. They are the
daughters of the famous Bishop Colen
so, the first and last bishop of Natal,
who devoted hla life to studying the
needs and ministering to the spiritual
wants of the black men.
Dlnliulu'a Influence In the country
haa always been a stumbling block to
British land-grabbing, and It has been
essential to remove him from the
scene of hie activities. After his lib
eration from St. Helena, Miss Colenso
undertook his defense against the nu
merous other charges brought against
him. She mastered all the native dia
lects In order to confront opposing wit
nesses, and her able cross-examination
on many occasions utterly ptffto rout
the emissaries of the government who
had come prepared to swear away the
life of the native leader. The devoted
women have spent more than $20,000
In defense of the black chief.
Of Count Not.
An over-dressed woman was talking
to an acquaintance.
"Yes," she said, "since John came
Into his money we have a nice coun
try house, horses, cows, pigs and
hens."
"That must be charming," remark
ed the other; "you can have all the
fresh eggs you want."
"Oh, well." replied the first lady,
"of course, the hens can lay If they
like to, but in our position It Isn't at
all necessary."
One More Questloa.
"I say, pa. what "
"Ask your mother!"
Honest, pa. this Isn't a silly one
this time."
"All right, this once, what Is It?"
"Well, if the end of the world was
to come and the earth be destroyed
while a man was up In an airship,
wher would he land when he came
down!" The Housekeeper.
Kill Too Much.
"After all." said the optimist, "you
must admit tiat this is the best world
you have even l.e-'n in."
"Yes" replied the pessimist; "hut
bans it. my wife Is the best wife I've
ever had. and that's not saying much
for her." Judy.
lioaermoon .N'ainea.
"Wh-.t are the Christian names o5
that yourg couple tiext door?"
"We won't le nMo to tlnd out till
next wi'k. They've Just been mar
id and lie cads her lllrdle and sh
tal'.s b:m IVlt'.e." Cleveland Leader.
I A Tuvuh Doe.
I "Vjouni'3 .i-w-wful tough, ain't
I you, J lU inle?"
i 'Why. tay. kid, I'm so tough dal
J dere'a tl uts I'm skcered of myislft"
K0ME m THE HEART. ,
O m' not a hctie in the mansions of pride,
Whers marble shines out In the pillars and walla;
Though the roof be of gold It Is brilliantly cold.
And Joy may not be found in its torch-lighted balls.
,3tit seek for a bosom, all honest and true,
Where love once awakened will never depart;
Turn, turn to that breast like a dove to its nest,
And you'll find there's no home like the home in the heart,
O link but on spirit that's warmly sincere,
That will heighten your pleasure and solace your care;
Find a eoul you may trust as the kind and the Just,
And be sure the wide world holds no treasure so rare.
Thin the frowns of misfortune may shadow our lot,
The cheek-searing l-ar;irops of sorrow may start,
t Hut a star never (Mm sheds a halo for him
Who can turn for repose to a home in the heart.
-Eliza Cook.
7i
"Oh Lord, we do not ask Thee for
shipwrecks, but if there 19 a ship
wreck, let It be in Templemore Bay."
Such was the prayer of some Ingenu
ous youths, full of faith, who were at
school on the south coast of England.
Much akin to this was the wish of my
heart. I didn't want a prairie fire to
happen for my benefit, but If there
was one, I longed to see it and help
fight it.
I had t"ent the summer In Myles
Bolton's ranch, thirty-seven milea
southeast of Maple Creak, In Saskat
chewan. Several times at nis;ht I had
seen the glow of conflagrations and
sniffed the smoky air of Area far
away. Once In a heavy thunderstorm
the lightning struck in five different
places around the ranch. But I was
within door?" and quite unconsciou3
of it. In p, few minutes the rain de
scended lu torrents and ail was over.
One hot August day I thought I real
ly war to have the experience I longed
for. Columns of smoke were seen ris
ing Just In a line with where our out
f.t was haying on the bench. I sad
dled up, took four wet sacks, and rodo
out only to find that the Are was
miles further on. So I had dinner
with my friends and rode back again.
Not until the fall was my wish grat
ified. On the first of October I was
riding on the bench with two friends,
when we saw the smoke of a fire to
the north. The sight i3 not unusual,
and as the fires had usually proved
to be far out of our range, It made no
particular impression upon us. But
as we were sitting down to supper
at 7 o'clock, Bettington, a neighbor
ing rancher .arrived with the news
that he was hunting up men to go and
fight th! fire. A3 Bolton and Betting
ton are both fire guardians, and can
by law commandeer the the services
of all males over sixteen, we were In
for It, though not unwillingly. One
mn being left behind to look after
the ranch, a party of six proceeded to
the stables to saddle up.
It was rather a weird sight, the
catching of our horses In the corral,
the fitful rays of a single lantern, oc
casionally being required to distin
guish Nigger from Coon, or Ginger
from Dick. Everybody was busy with
bridles and bits, blankets and sad
dles, and the sacks being served out
and strapped behind the cantles, at
length all were ready, and off we went
Into the night. Whither I knew not!
All was In the dark to me. Trails,
familiar enough in the daytime, had
absolutely vanished. The derrick
even, as we swept past It, showed only
for a moment against the sky Iiie.
But the responsibility of direction did
not rest with me. I simply kept with
the crowd, secretly grabbing the horn
of my saddle during those first few
moments, with an uncomfortable feel
ing of Insecurity, and not knowing
what was going to happen next.
A night ride of this description was
altogether a new experience for me.
But the feeling passed off, as gradu
ally the outlines of my companions
and their horses became more clear,
and the ground proved not to be full
of bottomless chasms, as was my first
Impression. The timidity of uncer
tainty passe away and I became
callous to hidden dangers. "Up the
creek! Up the creek!" was the cry,
and up the creek we went. Though If
we had gone down the creek I
shouldn't have known any difference.
Crossing it near the old, and now de
serted. Police Detachment. I got left
behind a bit. My horse took me some
where through the bush, and eventual
ly emerged Into the open. Here I
dashed straight ahead to find that I
was alone. My comrades had missed
me and a few reciprocating shouts en
abled me to find them again. They
had turned sharp to the right outside
the bush. In relating my experiences
afterwards I declared that my horse
had shied at a haystack, which had
suddenly loomed up before me; but It
appears thore Is no haystack there! I
hope, however, that my readers will
not distrust this account of my adven
tures. "Things that are seen by can
dlelight are not the same by day."
Our horses began to enjoy the fun.
Bolton was on a fine animal. Latlgo,
and set the pace. All our horses were
good. I was riding Banjo, endeared to
me by occasional acquaintance of his
good uu!itles, though I once or twice,
In the early part of the ride, gloomily
reflected that he had, a few days pre
viously, tiled to buck an experienced
rider off. He Is, perhaps, a little In
clined to be lazy, but once be took the
Mt between bis teeth and dashed on
beyond the rest quite distastefully to
me. When I manayed to rein him in
and wait for the others. Bolton's re
mark to nie that I had better not try
to race s the ground was very uncer
tain, was a little wide of the mark, If
he bad but known it.
About four miles on we left the
crrek and wended our way through
a coulee up on to the bench.
Theie we could see that the fire was
a big one. Its glow lighted up the sky
for miles. I confidently expected to
.-eo the actual flames after surmount
ing the next rise. But many rises were
to pass beneath our horses' feet be
fore we reached our destination. We
were traveling fast, loping or quick
trotting over the prairie, walking oly
when we came to unexpected coulees,
making straight for the western point
of the line of fire. I, a novice in the
art of riding, began to feel pretty
sore. Occasionally I lagged behind,
but Rowland and Barrow were very
good, and falling behind too, would
urge my horse at a quick lope until
we caught up with the leaders.
When we started It was generally
supposed that the fire was about ten
miles distant. But It proved to be
fifteen. As we neared It the darkness
was dispelled and the night grew
light, except In the deep shadow of
of the coulees. My trouser legs and
under garments had crawled up to my
knees, and the calves of my legs got a
fine scratching In the bush Just before
we crossed the creek.
Half a mile beyond we got our first
sight of the fire. It was a magnificent
spectacle. The first Impression I re
ceived was that of an extravagantly
well lighted city In a smoky fog. For
the edges of the fire were running in
long lines in every possible direction,
and at different heights according to
the rise and fall of the ground. Smoke
tempered all and at one place we
seemed to pass under a huge verandah
of It.
We rode along the line for about a
couple of miles seeking for the fight
ers. Suddenly Bolton's horse put Its
foot Into a badger hole, stumbled to
Its knees and then rose again like a
camel. I didn't like the look of that
much. The prairie was full of badger
holes, but in my daylight rides I had
never yet had a mishap. A prairie
horse can be trusted for that. But at
night it is different. At any rate
my turn came next, for I suddenly
found myself looking through Banjo's
two front legs, with a complete view
of left stirrup. I can't explain how it
was. Banjo righted himself quickly
and so did I, though I got a bit of a
strain.
At length we found a group of men,
nearly all unknown to us, who had
been fighting the fire since daylight.
At first I thought they were Indians,
so black were their faces with the
smoke. I could see, too, that their
eyes were blood-shot. A wagon con
taining a water barrel was being driv
en slowly along the line, and at In
tervals the flghtern retired to It to
wet their sacks, and then returned to
beat the flames. These are astonish
ingly easy to put out, though they are
sometimes fanned Into life again by
the breeze. This necessitates at least
one man following behind about half
a mile or so. His work is easy, but
responsible, and must be thorough, or
the Are will get away again. Most
sacks were tied at the end of a stick.
and some were lightly stuffed with
willow boughs. This seemed, so far
as I could gather, a new Idea. It is
certainly an excellent one, for the
sacks thus stuffed did notably good
service.
I gained a peculiar Impression of
the vastness and the landmarklessness
of the prairie by the fact that nobody
present could tell exactly where we
were. A trail nearby led, nobody knew
whither. Armstrong's ranch was
known to be somewhere about four
miles distant, but In what direction
nobody could point out. The majority
of men we found there were Just
about to depart, for there was no food
or drinking water left, and by follow
ing the line of burnt ground back they
expected to strike some shack within
the course of a few hours. So, besidea
our own party, there were only two
men left, and the water wagon.
Our task seemed hopeless. The line
of Are from west to east extended
about twelve niilea, and It was trav
eling southwards at an enormous rate
under a strong north wind. Of course,
we knew that other groups of workers
must be operating at other points, but
we seemed to have miles of it under
our own special charge. We worked
along steadily and It was some satis
faction to leave a black, charred,
flameless waste behind us.
Part of the time I held the horses.
First, with all their lines In one hand,
and then later with each horse's lines
attached to the saddle horn of anoth
er. I let them all graze a bit as we
worked slowly along. On returning to
the tire line with my sacks, I came
up behind Bolton Just as he was re
marking to Bettlngton, "Well. I hope
Newton Is satisfied. I doubt If bell
pray for any more prairie fires."
He was right. I had had quite
enough of it. Thirsty and nothing to
drink; hungry and no prospect of
food: shivering in a lilting blast; so.e
from my bard ride; a bit crippled
from my stumble; sleepy and nowhere
to sleep; and with the chance ;t the
fire lasting for days, I almost felt that
life offered no further attractions. It
was but two o'clock. More than three
weary hour before the dawn. "Oh.
that morning ot .trmstrong tat(!
come!"
Now we ram to a mile or no of ex
tinguished grass put out earlier in the
evening. Some mounted and rode back
k
at
to see all safe behind, while the re
of us went forward. Shall I ever for
get my Joy when we saw allhouetted
against the sky the outline of a log
shack- There at any rate was water,
and, perhaps, food.
Our hopes were more than realized.
A nice supiyr with hot tea was soon
ready for us, accompanied by a genial
prairie welcome. The shack was that
of a new settler, Ingram, who had
come in during the summer, and had
a few hours before lost three hay
stacks, after de had considered that
nil was safe. Poor Mrs. Ingram hnd
been up for two nights and days, but
yet catered cheerfully for our wants.
We learned that the fire had nearly
reached the head of Frenchman Creek,
and was fast traveling down Farwell
Creek, on which Bolton's and Gibson's
ranches were situated. So it did not
take us long to decide that we must
go back and protect our own houses.
But It waa useless to ride before the
dawn. Coming up with the fire to
guide us was one thing. Riding from
It Into the gloom was another. So after
a soothing pipe we stretched ourselves
on the floor to sleep. I don't see
what prisoners have to complain of in
a plank bed. I'm sure I found mine
comfortable enough. I pillowed my
head on my roat and stretched my leg3
beneath the stove. Bettlngton's head
lay on my stomach, and his long legs
reached far out towards the center of
me room, tiowiand, I believe, cn
structed a pillow out of the coal scut
tle. All of us slept the sleep of the
Just.
A little before five Barrow opened
the door leading outside to prospect.
He startled us with the exclamation:
"It's snowing hard!" We were all
awake in an instant. The news seem
ed too good to be true. We went
out to verify the statement, and found
not indeed snow, but a heavy Scotch
mist, the ground perfectly wet and no
glow of a fire visible. It was all
over! What would probably have been
the biggest and most destructive fire
for years, and would have taken many
men many days to extinguish had
been swamped In an hour. Our spirits
rose to summer heat. "Heaviness may
endure for a night, but Joy cometh in
the morning."
At Armstrong's ranch we were cor
dially Invited to breakfast and spent
a couple of hours in discussing the
events of the fire. The six men there
had had their work cut out to save the
place in addition to fighting the flames
in general.
Hot soup goes well after a long
ride, and the ladle3 at the ranch had
prepared us an excellent one to com
mence our meal. But. It had a so
porific effect and most of us retired
Immediately afterwards to the lunch
fiouse, there to spend the afternoon
a deep slumbers. Something prompt
ed us to wake at supper time, and a
musical evening followed.
The expedition will ever remain a
memorable one for me. The midnight
ride, the glowing sky, the Illuminated
city, are imprinted on my mind: and
above all two of the pleasantest sur
prises of my life the welcome shack
and the heaven-sent mist.
Well might Sir Walter Scott sing:
"Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife.
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
If worth an age without a name."
HE CALLS THIS SPORT.
isiii io aoiut? i i a iiiv aiorv smai'kN
of Brutality.
In each of us is the germ of sav
agery. The old instinct for cruelty
and slaughter manifests itself most
readily In our hunting and Ashing
sports. Under the spell of the chase
we are guilty of things which, some
how, tend to shock us when we con
sider them In cold blood. Take the
following recital of how a hunter got
a moose In Nova Scotia, for example.
The man who tells the story, not yet
free from the thrall of the "sport,"
probably sees nothing but glory In hia
achievement, but to us who sit in our
easy chairs and read there is some
thing cruel and repellent in the tale.
The extract Is from an article In the
National Sportsman:
The sun had set, and we were going
only a short distance further before
camping, when Len's sharp eyes de
tected a moose standing partly behind
a rock with a background of pines at
what we afterwards found was 130
yards. Hla "Look at the big bull" in
stantly drew my attention, and my 40Y,
began to roar, but ill fared It that
on account of the perspiration drop
ping on my glasses earlier in the day.
I had taken them off, and now in the
falling light could scarcely distinguish
either moose or near sight when my
left eye closed, although the bright
front sight showed plainly. My first
three shots were misses, and I might
have become rattled had not Len's
vntpo nfl nlm na Dinnn-h nAlhltic nm .
' ' ' a
happening, came to me, "You are
shooting high." Drawing down th9
foresight until I could scarcely see, 1
pulled once more and hit the fore leg
just above the elbow, but without
touching any bones, and the moose
started, although very lamely, over tho
open. Four more shots and he waa
down, over 20ft yards away, and we
started to run, but before we got half
way he started down again, and we
were able to get within a distance
that made it certain he was ours; but
once more he got on his feet and al
though unable to take a step, glared at
us until another shot, the only one In
a vital siot, put him down for good.
We found that all six shots after
he had started had touched him; one
had broken his fore leg just above hi3
hoof; another touched his ear, another
chipped a horn; another, probably the
one that put him down first, struc':
the center of his back Just an inch
too high to affect the backbone, and
another struck behind, passing through
one quarter and breaking the hipbone
on the other, disabled him completely,
the last, fired close, struck behind the
shoulder, as intended.
.
That which people call hope is real
ly conceit; a man believes that hla
dollar talent will finally bring a for
tune and hopes on. "
