HmWATXm. PRESS ASSOCIATION.
BV PCBMI33I0N Of
HANQ.MS»i*> LY <\ CO..
> CHAPTER XIV—rCoxTisoBi*.,
fife made a sign to Johnstone, who
took Dick in his arms and swung him
lightly down the companion-hatch like
• 'bundle of hammocks. In two min
utes Ik- was In his old seat at the end
of the table in the saloon, with his
ankles fast to the chair, which in its
turn was screwed into the floor. For
« long time he did not move. Ho had
little hope .left now, but he steeled him*
•elf to wait with patience. If any un
foreseen chance might yet give him his
opportunity. The sunset gun was heard
from the shore; it grew rapidly dark.
Johngtene entered to light the lamp;
In his Hand was a heavy Iron capstan
Ijte tald It down upon the table, with
the letter lestde It
• “Thero'e your choice," he said,
f "All right!” said Dick, stoutly Tm
ready but you’ll all go, too, my man;
you1™Jfost without me.'
j,Johnstone laughed brutally.
("Don't you flatter yourself," he said.
‘Vead or alive, you’ll do our business
ffer us.”
Dick was silent
-•’Look you here," said the other, “this
•la the way of It, and If you don't un
<fcrstand.lt now, you’ll never have the
chance pgaln. The brig's standing In
straight for Jamestown; she’s not three
allies off at this moment; and the flag
aifp'e lying rpady for her Just outside
the hafter. If you put your name to
tut Wfir paper you're a tree man this
tdfctutefrTou'll stand in with the rest
4 uS jbr prise-money, and the Use,
that’s worth it alt, she’s yours Into the
Urgatn. But If you’re fool enough to be
obstinate—there’s the colonel upon deck
tter* watching; when the guard-boat
comes, he gives me a last signal—one—
tfco—and before three’s out your neck's
rice, and you lying quiet In the hold.
‘ acetfent, gentlemen! An old friend
ofBIr Ptffieney's, too; and Just had a
lies written to him asking leave to
jshois on his way to sign It when he
f«£L P'r'sps the admiral would let us
buy him ashore tomorrow?' So either
wiy we stand to win easy,, d'ye sec?"
&e did Indeed see, and that with a
supreme anguish of bitterness. Not
•yen by loath was he to thwart them,
orelear Ma^own name from dishonor.
§hla conscience waa without re
ebr and Camilla knew the truth;
leae two thoughts he anchored him
to meet the fury of hie last storm,
llie moments fled. The colonel called
doWn the hatchway that the boat had
loft the flaw-ship. Camilla heard, him
shout, and roll upon ner kneea beside
a porthole, gasping for air.
A second time that Inexorable calm
. voice came down to the deck below.
Johnstone took the Iron bar In his hand.
The boat came alongside, and an of
ficer's votes shouted does to Camilla's
fainting tend: “Brig ahoy! Throw us
n rop« merer
Dimly, as one in n dream of horror,
aha heard the colonel's answer.
"Yoir needn’t trouble to cmw - on
board," he called down. In hie smooth
oat tones. "This is the Speedwell, cap
tain Eiteeurt. He Is an old friend of
Admlsal Mgloolm and Is just writing
to him fpr Iasve to anehor. Johnstone!"
tejtahoutod, louder still, “ask the cap
' tain if his letter's ready."
"Do jion tear?” said Johnstone, bal
ancing the ter In both his hands.
"There’s tbs last signal Now then—
The clear votes of the officer outside
rang through the ship and drowned bin
"Estoourtr It cried. "Pass In, pass
la! The Emperor’s dead!"
A
eMAPTBR xv. .
ILBNCB followed'
the words, that I
seemed as If It
would last forever,
lit was as though |
that cry had;
atunocd at one blow ;
all on board the !
brig. . I
At last the iron !
bar fell clanging ;
from Johnstone's ■
hands . upon the j
floor of the saloon, and Dick sprang up.
struggttog fiercely In his fetters.
“CamUlat'-Camllla!" he shouted. She
hoard his voice and awoke to life again,
trembling' In every limb.
“Ofl flllh these things!” he thundered.
And Jobnstope unlocked the Irons with*
* word.
out
Dick Mitten In Ms hand and ran
up tfee jp%. The lieutenant from the
lagi)ffl, .«u In the act of eprtnglng
hoard, "Where le Captain Bst*
'Art you all asleep^
•n
■h .> . .
oourtWbeerled.
here?**'
The (colopel glided
.before him, and.
M, lowered his voice to speak to Dick.
*" >.**We gre all In your hands,” he said.
to^** remember,
•her
A Within
ii?: there:
'Castilla
npid nth. triumphantly.
Jot Mertdenoe against
,_s ssade up. and you'll
■ or swing at the yard»arm
Btknd by the bulwark,
pushed him back from
p."-- »Kh hajtcbw^fs ■ I ., * •*
'M \. The fftfltausat came up as he spoke.
“Bstoourt." he ashed,; “have you for
: gottea WV
5; -ISofc t wagprer erted Dick: '"and
te fe ueyer shaU. though I live to he a thou>
-4 V •, ;
f -Wen srtdr laughed the other. “But
y -Why op I ee desperately in demand ?”
m , “Why, you're la the nick of time. I
was short*!anded till you came, and
Tv* a palr of mutineers on board.”
*TUgflfl*mM WUmere. And he palled
£:{ svsrvtSe.dMe: “Send three men aboard
.there, «|g^ euUssees.'
r. , t» . A
& -
;
life
X
9Y HENRY MEzWBOLT
The colonel made a rush for.the- main
hatch, calling: to Johnstone for help.
Dlcfc caught him In time, and handed
him over to the men from the flag-ship,
giving them the Irons at the same time.
"Are they for this fellow?" asked Wll
more.
"Oh!" said Dick, contemptuously, “ns
far as lighting goes no one need be
afraid of him: but he's a wretch with
out a rag of honor, and his tongue
would tjrlst anything less stiff than
steel.”
The Irons wore on In a moment; the
colonel seemed to And them cold, for he
shivered pitiably.
"Now for the other one!" said the 1
lieutenant.
As he spoke. Johnstone came on deck
by the forward ladder, and stood there
at a little distance from the group, peer
ing about him In the lantern-light to see
the position of affairs.
Dlek went up to him. "Here he Is!”
he cried. “Johnstone, you're my pris
oner!”
Johnstone's right hand went swiftly |
to Ills pocket, but before he could grasp
his pistol Dick’s fist shot home be
tween his eyes, and he fell like a log,
disappearing backward down the open
hatchway.
Two of the men-of-war’s men ran
down, and found him motionless at the
bottom of the ladder: they brought him
on deck, and got a rope to secure him
when he should come round.
But he never moved again; the fall
broken his neck. ~
“Well," said Dick, when they told him.
"that seems only Just: he was the bet
ter of two bad men, and his punish
ment’s the soonest over. As for the
other," be continued, turning to Wll
more, "a quick death's too good for him,
and no prison would hold lilm long.”
Be reflected a moment, and then
turned to the captive and his gttards.
“Bring him below,” he said, and led
the way to the saloon.
f I" Blok's own scat they placed the
•Colonel, with Dick's own irons upon
him, and in his hand they made him
take the pen with which he had com
manded Dick to sign away hi* honor.
“Now, If you will please'
alone together." gald Dick to the oth
ers, "I dare say I Shall soon have done
with him." , i : i;
worn oui wondering, and he
turned to tlio prisoner.
"Write the date,” he said, shortly;
"and now go on as I dictate to you;
“'I-hereby acknowledge and confess
that- I conspired with one Herman
Johnstone, since deceased, to effect the
escape of the Emperor Napoleon from
the Island of St. Helena on the Dth of
May, 1821, and to levy war again;* the
king of France and the peace of
Europe; that for this purpose I bribed
the said Herman Johnstone and the
crew of the brig Speedwell, four of
whom I knew to be French subjects;
and by fraud and forgery Induced my
sister-in-law, Madame de Montaut, and
Captain Richard Estcourt to accom
pany me, in complete ignorance of the
objeot of our voyage.' ”
Tha colonel stopped. "But that is not
the truth," he objected.
“Truth!" said Dick, scornfully; “what
la truth to you? Write as I tell you.
•very word! And'wait before you sign,"
h* added; "we want a witness whom
your slanders can not touch. Wll
more!” he called, and the lieutenant
entered.
The signing and witnessing done,
Dick folded the paper and laid it again'
before the colonel,
"Address It," he said, "to the Minis
ter of Justice at Paris.".
The colonel started and drew back.
“Deal gently with me," he aaid. In a
low voice; “courage and mercy should
go ^together."
"Courage and mercy,” replied Dick,
**aro no concern of yours; your province
Is obedience, and, If you can manage
It, a little decent shame."
' The address was written.
"And now," said Dick, "after writ
ing that letter, you will, I think, sec
that ft would never suit your health to
live in England or France again. To
keep you. however, from all temptation
of bucIi risks for the present, I oropns**
to ask Lieutenant Wllmore here If he
will be so good as to put you ashoiv
at Jamestown. You have, I believe,
some, friends on the island who will j
condole with you on the failure of your |
enterprise." I
"Shall I take him at once?” asked
Wilmorfe.
The colonel was In despair.
"An exile and a beggar! Death would
be preferable!" he exclaimed, with a
gesture which was a really line piece
of acting, and went to Wilmore’a heart.
But Dick knew his man better.
“All right,” he said, gravely; “you
have your choice.”
And he took the iron bar from the
floor where Johnstone had left it, and
raised it above the colopri'a head.
The actor’s collapse was swift and
lamentable.
“Hold him!” be cried to Wllmore;
“for Cod's sake hold Mm. He to cap*
*oie or anything.
“I btfin to think bo,” Mid Pick, low
ering his weapon, “since I have learned
to outwit you.”
'•Well, then,” Mid Wllraore, holding
out bis "hand to Dick, “good-by until.
; tomorrow."
j "Yes," said Pick, "I'll thank you
[ then. Qood-by.”
The colonel was taken on deck again,
and lowered Into the boat.
As they left the ship’s side, he ahWi
' or thought he saw, a white figure lean*-,
i Ing over the bulwarks,
j "Camilla!” he cried. “Is that you,
! Camilla?”
| But there was no reply. The boat’
j -shot forward, and the Speedwell van*
i Ished from him Into the darkness^ .
j Dick turned to look for Camilla; she
t was gone, and he would not follow her
j now, for he remembered what the Km-'
peror's death must mean to her.
1 The brig was moving slowly In to
! ward the harbor, guided by the lights
inboard the flag-ship. An hour after
i'ward she dropped her s ichor for ths
■ night and swung round fo the wind.
Dick turned in early, but' ho cmiM
not sleep; there was still thunder In
the air, a remnant of last night's storm •
and his mind went whirling Incessant
!y through the tangled history of the
last few months.
A little before dawn he went on deck;
It was less stifling in the open air, and
stars were shining here and there be
tween drifting clouds.
He sat down against the bulwark, and
looked up at them, listening to the
faint lapping of the water under the
Ship's sides.
Little by little the night lifted, and
daylight began to broaden over the sky.
The stars grew pale, and died out one
by one; a marvelous color, mingled of
faintest blue and delicate red opal,
flushed In the height of heaven and
burned slowly into deep crimson on the
horizon to the east.
A light wind blew cool upon Ms face;
Ms eyelids dropped, and slumber took
hint unawares.
When he opened Ms eyes again, Ca
milla was kneeling on one knee before
him. transfigured by a golden light that
3hoiie from behind her through and
through the glory of her hair.
A strange sense of new life filled him
with bewildering prescience of joy.
"Where are we?” hb asked, not ven
turing to move, lc3t he should break the
spell.
She bent yet lower over him.'
“We are In harbor,” she said; “and
look! the sun has risen.”
THE END.
AN INDIAN BOY’S PONY.
An Account nf III* First Attempt to
Ride It at n Hnffalo Hunt.
Thus led by those dedicated to re
ligious service, the tribe leaves its vil
lage, the people by families dropping
Into line—men, well-mounted, bearing
their weapons ready for uac; women,
In gala dress, riding their, decorated
ponies, older ones leading the pack
horses; little children In twos and
threes upon the backs of steady old
nags, or snugly stowed away In the
swinging pouch between the tent-polc3;
and the dogs trotting complacently
everywhere. Here and there along the
lino of the Cavalcade is a lad being ini-<
tiated into individual responsibility.
He has been upon the hunt before, as
one of the family, but this Is the first
step toward going Independently un
carcd for ns child. ' The father has las
soed a wild horse, sadled and bridled
him, and now bids his son mount the
animal. The boy hangs back; the colt
is a fiery creature and already restive
under restraint. The father tells hia
son that the. horse shall be his own
when he has conquered It, but the lad
does not move. Tho lookers-on arc
smiling, and the cavalcade does not
wait. “Get up,” says the father. The
boy Rlowly advances, and the colt
quickly recedes but the boy, grasping
his mane, swings himself Into the sad
dle. The father lets go, and so does the
colt -rears, Jumps, wriggles, hump3 his
back like an infuriated cat. stands on
his fore-legs and kicks at his own tail.
P«ws the air and stamps the earth, but
the boy clings to him until wdth a sud
den jerk the saddle-girth is broken, and
he is landed over the head of the ex
cited creature, which runs for dear life
and liberty. Brought back, .protesting
by twists aud shakes of the head, he is
again mounted, and again frees him
self. After two or three repetitions of
this sort of thing, the boy becomes
angry, and tho mother grows anxious.
She runs to her son as he Is scrambling
up from the ground, feels him all over,
and moves his legs and arms to see If
he is hurt. Ho is Impatient at the de
lay; he is going to master that ponv
now or die for it. This time he stays
on. In vain the animal lashes himself
into foam and fury; the boy sticks
to him like the shirt of Nessus, and the
father at last leads the Indivisible pair
between tho tent poles which trail be
hind a sophisticated family horse, and
there, fenced In, they journey all day,
trying to get used to each other. The
pony does not see hie way out of the
poles, and Is forced to keep up with the
procession.
THE CHINESE DOCTOR.
Re Killed the Snake In the Patient'
Ito«It with a Pin.
“When I was acting American consul
at Amoy. China,” aaid Dr. W. E. Fales,
“one of my employes fell sick with e.
severe attack of rheumatism. Ho stood
the pain bravely for three days, refus
ing all ‘foreign devil medicine.’ and on
the fourth sent for a native physician.
The latter duly arrived and began prep
arations for treatment of the malady,
which he announced to be due to the
presence of a ‘darting snake’ In the
sufferer's body. Incense sticks were
lighted and placed just outside the door,
and also In the room. A pack of fire
crackers was set of and a talismantc
paper pasted to' the wall. This was
done to drive away evil spirits and at
tract good ones. The doctor next wrote
a lot of characters on a thick piece of
paper with a vermilllon pencil and set
Ore to It. It burned Into a black ash,
which was broken Into a cup of water
and drunk by the patient. A great
bowl of herb tea was made, of which
a cup an hour was the allotted dose.
The son of Eaculaplus next bared the
body of my servant and drove deep into
It at nine points a long needle mois
tened, with peppermint. Ho did It with
such skill In avoiding large blood ves
sels that the hemmorrhngc was insig
nificant. He then covered each acu
| puncture with a brownish paste, and
this, in turn, with a piece of dark paper,
i He then collected his fee, 50 cents, ami
| departed. The sufferer soon fell Inin
! a sleep, and the next day announced
| that his pains bad departed. He ro
| matned in his bunk two more days,
j laughing, chatting, smoking cigarettes
I and once or twice using the opium pipe,
and then reported as being well. He
left the paste and paper in place until!
they fell off. The skin was smooth and 1
the scar hardly perceptible. He took 1
his recovery as a matter of course, his'
only comment being that the darting,
snake was thoroughly dead.” — New j
York Recorder. j
v'j V.~- :
THAT SHODDY TARIFF
HOW THE WORD WAS “SNAKED”
FROM OUR RECORDS.
It*markable Illustration of Oar Imports
of Raffs Under Protection and Free
Trade—Foreign Raffs to Be IVorn on
American Boys.
! "Anticipating that their bill would
flood the country with shoddy they (the
Democrats In congress) were careful to
‘snake’ that odious word entirely out
of the now law.”
This, from the New York Press, is
hardly accurate. The word shoddy
does appear in section 279 of the Gor
inan tariff, where the tariff is reduced
to a 20 per cent ad valorem rate from
the specific duty of 30 per cent per
pound that existed under the McKinley
law. This was equivalent to an average
though thoroughly rotten. The Increase
in these importations during the first
year of the new law has been so great
as to exceed the entire yield of scoured
wool produced in the annual clip of our
two largest wool growing states of Cali*
fornia and Texas.
'But the free traders sometimes ob
ject to comparisons being made with
1894, so let us look back to 1893. And
aB they have “snaked” the word shoddy
from their statistics we will accommo
date them by using their own term
rags. Here are the imports of rags for
the two fiscal years ending June 30,.
1893 and 1895:
Imports of Foreign Rags to be Manu
factured Into Clothing for American
Men, Women and Children.
Year ending Quantity.
June 30. Founds.
1895, Free-Trade.14,060,054
1893, Protection. 35
Increase of Free-Trade Rags.,14,066,019
Under the McKinley tariff the protect
tlonists were not ashamed to call this
stuff shoddy. But the free traders
shirk shoddy and “snake” the word out
of their statistical reports. But what’s
in a name? There are the facts. Farm
ers can tell the quantity of rags that
are being used in place of their wool.
The people can tell the quantity of for
eign rags that they must wear on their
backs, besides ail the shoddy goods that
are coming from Yorkshire. And every
body knows the increase in our supply
of foreign free trade rags. Senator Hill
did well to stigmatize this shoddy
tariff as “a rag-bag production.”
How Other Market* Capture 17a.
For^\(Uito CttA«£9 swdntoAte IfoswVete <J tV
Untied. States
tWirj&tVe two ^taVWrs
Endxwj June 30
? 1894 »Md 1895\
\
J
ad valorem rate of 52Vi per cent, so
that the reduction made in the rate of
duty by the free traders was 71.43 per
cent.
Now as to the “snaking.” This has
been done by the bureau of statistics of
the treasury department. Under the
McKinley law all of‘these adulterants
were classified together as shoddy,
noils, waste, rags, mungo, flock, etc.,
etc. For purposes of comparison it i3
necessary to use the same classification,
although under the Gorman law they
are returned under different heads—
some free and some dutiable. The total
showing is a bad one for the free trade
tariff law. But we don’t intend to al
(fioj6, Noils, end Ukste)
SH000Y
Produced in Foreign Countries
nt Marketed inti*
UnitedStotes
-14 titiUionPwMt
I10M.W Ptai»J
-II minim Pound*—
n
uodnJ
—-10 million Pound*—
B million Pounds—
-6 million Pounds—
V ■■■ '■ ii V :
—*t million Peundt—■
——2 million Pound*—
^-35 Pounds
low them to escape from the responsi
bility of having made a law which ad
mits free of duty, as in the case of rags,
or of such a trifling duty as that upon
Shoddy.
The fact remains that the imports of
all of these wool adulterants have in
creased in one single year of the new
law over 16.000,000 pounds above the
Imports of the same articles during the
whole four years of the McKinley law,
and as they were once scoured wool,
worked over and over until they had
lost the length and strength of fiber
and durability of pure new wool, they
are still as clei . as scoured wool.
A “VttHt lloon” Worked Out.
“They (woolen manufacturers) are
Just beginning to reap the Incalculable
benefits of free wool and will find in it
untold millions, as have -the English,
v/ho annually export $100,000,000 worth
of woolen manufactuies and worsted
and woolen yarns. In another decade,
if not deprived of this vast boon, they
will begin to rival England in such ex
ports.”—New York Herald.
Only Mr. James Gordon Bennett’s
hired assassin of American industries
could have conceived this great idea. It
is true that the English exported $100,
000,000 worth of woolen goods in 1894.
But let us see what they used to export
before their free trade system ruined
them. Here we have it:
British Exports of Woolen Goods.
Year. Value.
1872 .....£38,493,000
1894 ...M.;.. 20,011,000
Decrease under Free-Trade. £18,482,000
In a trifle more than two decades, the
English free trade policy has reduced
the British exports of woolen goods by
$90,000,000 a year. This represents the
“untold millions” that the British man
ufacturers find every year in “the in
calculable benefits of free wool."
As Mr. Bennett puts it, “in another
decade, if not deprived of this vast
boon,” they will be exporting only $45,
000,000 worth of woolen goods and will
have lost another $45,000,000 worth of
export trade in woolens. Again, “in
another decade, if not deprived of this
vast boon” of free wool; they will be ex
porting nothing. By that time, in 1915,
should the same “vast boon” of free
wool have continued for American
manufacturers, “ they will begin to ri
val England in such exports.”
Fnlltxar’a Political Economy.
“The decrease in the values of bread
stuffs exported between Jan. 1 and Nov.
1 reached 17,433,000. These figures,
however, do not represent decreased
exports.”—The. World, New York.
What is the use of telling such a de
liberate falsehood, Mr. Pulitzer? If a
loss of 17,433,000 in the value of the
breadstuffs we have sold be not a loss,
what is it? True, the quantity of bar
ley, corn, oats and rye sold was slightly
larger this, but it brought less money
than the small quantity sold a year
ago. Was not that a decrease in money
to the seller and to the farmer who pro
duced it? We sold 5,000,000 bushels
less wheat and 1,640,000 barrels less
flour, but who offered to pay more
money for it than a year ago? If you.
Mr. Pulitzer, sold today 5,000 copies of
the World at a net price of 350, and to
morrow sold 6,000 copies at a net price
of only $40, would not that represent a
decrease? Would the larger number
compensate for the smaller amount of
money? Perhaps you have money to
burn and print papers to burn.
Fm Wool and Manufacturpn.
In the woolen trade of Massachusetts
the product value was 75 per cent less
in 1894 than in 1892, the output of the
woolen mills in 1894 being less even
than the output in 1885. In fact, the
threat of free trade in wool bad the
effect of throwing the condition of the
woolen manufacturing interest back
ward one fell decade.
KILLING A BIRD.
How Hie Act Affected • Boy with a
Toy Gan.
A 10-jear-old boy of Newtonville was
given a toy gun by his father, who
laughingly promised him $1 for every
crow he woul<| shoot, says the Youth's
Companion.
Highly elated with his gun and san
guine of earning a small fortune by
shooting crows, the young sportsman
spent the great part of two days in a
field watching for the birds. Not a
crow came near him, greatly to his
disappointment, and he reported his ill
success to his father, who said, to
comfort him:
"Well, never mind the crows. I’ll
give you half a dollar for any kind of a
bird you can shoot.”
Early the next morning the boy, gun
in hand, took up his position in the
back yard to watch for sparrows. A
half dozen or more unwary birds soon
appeared to pick up the crumbs that he
had thrown out to lure them within
reach of a shot. At a movement on his
part the sparrows rose and the boy
fired.
One of the birds was hit and fell to
the ground, where it lay for a minute
fluttering its wings, and then became
motionless. The boy went forward,
picked it up and looked at it. The poor
little head hung limit—the shot had
broken the sparrow’s neck. For a mo
ment the boy stood contemplating the
dead creature in his hand; then he
turned and fled, to the house.
“Oh, I’ve killed it! I’ve killed it,
mamma!” he cried, in a shocked tone.
“It can’t fly any more!” and all that
day his lament was, "Oh, I wish I
hadn’t done it! I wish I hadn’t done,
it!”
His father, who had not supposed the
boy in any danger of hitting a bird,
tried to solace him with the half-dollar
and suggestions of what might be
bought with it.
“No, papa,” was his sorrowful an
swer. “I don’t want it. I wish it could
make the sparrow alive again. I
never thought it would be like that to
kill a bird!”
“And," said his father, In concluding
the story. “I was more pleased at the
tender feeling my boy displayed than I
should have been had he become the
best shot in the state.”
STORY OF "BILL** HERNDON.
Dow Unooln’s b* Fortner Loit Hie
Fortune and Died o Pauper.
Washington Star: I was talking to a
lawyer from Springfield, 111., the other
day, and he told me that the grave of
“Bill” Herndon was to be appropriately
marked with a neat stone, presented by
the bar.
The story of Bill Herndon is a pathet
ic one. He was n law partner of Abra
ham Lincoln, and did not suffer very
greatly when compared with his illus
trious associate, sh‘ lar as legal attain
ments were concerned. As a result of
his practice he acquired a competency,
although not a large fortune, and, pur
chasing a farm, retired from the prd
fession and devoted himself to fancy
farming. His attempts at this were
ludicrous. There was no crop about
which he did not possess some pet the
ory, which he would argue out to his
friends as being the only philosophi
cal way.
While as a rural philosopher he was
very able, as a farmer for profit be was
so complete a failure that in a few
years he was without a dollar. Then
he tried to practice law again, but his
mind was not what it once was, and
he drank to excess. Then the once
gifted jurist went to the eounty alms
house, where he died. Members of the
bar gave him a respectable burial; but
his grave has been neglected. Now, I
am Informed, his memory will be per
petuated with a suitable tablet, for
Herndon did much for the jurisprudence
of Illinois, and was so closely associated
with Abraham Lincoln for many years
that the misfortunes and mistakes of
his latter years are obliterated and only
his successes remembered ,
The Curt Enormous- Armj.
The czar has the largest standing
army in Europe. Twonty-flv« years ago
the peace establishment of Russia
amounted to three-fourths of a million
and its war establishment one-half
million more. To-day the standing
army on a peace footing is one and one
quarter millions and the war footing in
Europe—not to mention the Asiatic
provinces—is estimated at four mil
lions The Russian reserve, not esti
mated as a part of the ordinary war
footing, would raise the total to five
millions in an emergency. And even
this enormous number does not take
reckoning of the Asiatic provinces. The
Cossacks, an irregular body, give mili
tary services in lieu of taxes. They
number about one-quarter million men,
and are chlfrfly cavalry.—Chicago
Tlmes-Herald.
Ha Fait Cnmiaaad
"It’s more’n self-re speck kin bear,”
•aid Meandering Mike, "I'Ve got er
mighty good notion ter quit de busi
ness.”
“An’ work?”
“Dere’s no tellin’ what human na
ter’ll do Wen it’s desp’rH. I feel ez if
de las' stror bed been piled on de
camel’s back.”
“Hev ye ben refused cold Tittles
agin?”
"Right erlong. An' de women dat
rides bicycles is offerin’ me deir east-off
clothes.”
In Kndnring Unity.
Between the mortal and immortal
worlds no gulf is fixed. Above all, and
binding all in enduring unity, is the
community of aim and spirit which
keeps those who love and are loyal hand
in hand and foot in foot, though seas
divide, there hangs between the im
penetrable veil of death.
i
