A PRETTY MILKMAID
Thinks Pc-ru-na Is a Wonderful
Medicine.
*
]\/[ ISS ANNIE HENDREN, Rocklyn,
Wash:, writes:
“I feel better than I have for over four
years. I have taken several bottles of
Peruna and one bottle of Manalin.
“I can now do all of my work in the
house, milk the cows, take care of the
milk, and so forth. / think Peruna is a
most wonderful medicine.
“I believe I would be in bed to-day if
I had not written to you for advice. I
had taken all kinds of medicine, but
none d>id me any good.
"Peruna has made me a well and
happy girl. I can never say too much
for Peruna.”
Not only women of rank and leisure
praise Peruna, but the wholesome, use
ful women engaged in honest toil would
not be without Dr. Hartman’s world re
nowned remedy.
The Doctor has prescribed it for many
thousand women every year and he
never fails to receive a multitude of let
ters like the above, thanking him for
his advice, and especially for the won
derful benefits received from Peruaa.
Called Her Bluff.
From the Chicago News.
He had been calling on the young lady
for many moons, but being rather back
ward his suit progressed slowly. Finally
the dear girl decided it was up to her to
start something, so the next time he called
she pointed to a flower In his buttonhole
and said:
“I’ll give you a kiss for that rose.”
A large, open-faced blush meandered
over his countenance, but the exchange
was made. Then be grabbed his hat and
started to leave the room.
“Why, where are you going?” she asked,
In surprise.
“To the—er—florists’ for more roses,” he
explained.
And further deponent sayeth not.
Past That.
From the Philadelphia Public Ledger.
Miss Passay—"He was talking to you
about me, wasn’t he?”
» Miss Knox—"Yes. He asked me if
n, you were 35 yet, and I said certainly
“ not.”
Miss Passay—“What a ridiculous
question!”
Miss Knox—“Just what I told him. I
said: 'How long do you expect her to
be 35?' ”
Get What You Ask For.
When you see an article well adver
tised In the newspapers, you may be
sure It’s a good article, for advertising
only pays If the goods are honest and
posses merit. The people who make a
specialty of one advertised article, like
Cascarets, Candy Cathartic for exam
ple, stake their whole business exist
ence on it’s doing what they say It will.
They must “make good” as the saying
is. Readers of this paper are urged
to be sure that they get what they ask
for, when they ask for an advertised
article, for it’s the good thing that is
Imitated and counterfeited. Don’t ac
cept substitutes! Insist on getting the
genuine!
Crane and Stork.
From the Indianapolis News.
There was Paul Morton, who got to
ue president of a big life Insurance
company, and now Murray Crane has
become a bridegroom and a grand
father on the same day. Being in the
cabinet for a while gives a man a
great start In the world.
SIGH HEADACHE
Positively cared by
these Little Pills.
They also relieve Dis
tress from Dyspepsia, In
digestion and Too Hearty
Eating. A perfect rem
edy for Dizziness. Nausea.
Drowsiness, Bad Taste
In the Mouth, Coated
Tongue, Pain In the Side.
TORPID UVER. They
regulate the Bowels. Purely Vegetable.
SMALL FILL. SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
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mouth or inflamed eyes by simply
dosing the stomach.
But you surely can cure these stubborn
affections by local treatment with
Paxtine Toilet Antiseptic
which destroys the disease germs,cheeks !
discharges, stops pain, and heals the ;
inflammation and soreness.
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^^'.“'“TIionipson'sEyeWater
f
Copyright. 1903, Copyright, 1903.
URE OF THE
4CE-NEZ.
HEN I look at
the three mas
sive manuscript
volumes which
contain our work
for the year 1804,
I confess that it
is very difficult
for me, out of
such a wealth of
material, to se
lect the cases
which are most
interesting in
themselves, and
at the same time
most conducive
to a display of
those peculiar
powers for which
my friend was
famous. As I
turn over the
pages, I see my
notes upon the
repulsive story of
the red leech and
the terrible death of Crosby, the bank
er. Here also I find an account of the
Addleton tragedy, and the singular
contents of the ancient British bar
row. The famous Smith-Mortlmer
succession case comes also within this
period, and so does the tracking and
arrest of Huret, the boulevard assas
sin—an exploit which won for Holmes
an autograph letter of thanks from the
French president and the Order of the
Legion of Honor. Each of these would
furnish a narrative, but on the whole
I am cf opinion that none of them
unites so many singular points of in
terest as the episode of Yoxley Old
Place, which includes not only the
lamentable death of young Willoughby
Smith, but also those subsequent de
velopments which threw so curious a
light upon the causes of the crime.
It was a wild, tempestuous night,
towards the close of November. Holmes
and I sat together in silence all the
evening, he engaged with a powerful
lens deciphering the remains of the or
IcHnnl inserintinn llnon a oalimDSest.
I deep in a recent treatise upon surg
ery. Outside the wind howled down
Baker street, while the rain beat fierce
ly against the windows. It was strange
there, in the very depths of the town,
with ten miles of man’s handiwork on
every side of us, to feel the iron grip of
nature, and to be conscious that to the
huge elemental forces all London was
no more than the molehills that dot the
fields. I walked to the window and
looked out on the deserted street. The
occasional lamps gleamed on the ex
panse of muddy road and shining
pavement. A single cab was splash
ing its way from the Oxford street end:
‘‘Well, Watson, it’s as well we have
not to turn out tonight," said Holmes,
laying aside his lens and rolling up
the palimpsest. “I've done enough for
one sitting. It is trying work for the
eyes. So far as I can make out, it is
nothing more exciting than an abbey’s
accounts dating from the second half
of the fifteenth century. Halloa! hal
loa! halloa! What’s this?”
Amid the droning of the wind there
had come the stamping of a horse’s
hoofs, and the long grind of a wheel
as it rasped against the curb. The
cab which I had seen had pulled up at
our door.
“What can he want?” I ejaculated,
as a man stepped out of it.
“Want? He wants us. And we, my
poor Watson, -want overcoats and
cravats and galoshes, and every aid
that man ever Invented to fight the
weather. Wait a bit, though! There’s
the cab off again! There’s hope yet.
He’d have kept It If he had wanted us
to come. Run down, my dear fellow,
and open the door, for all virtuous folk
have been long in bed.”
When the light of the hall lamp fell
upon our midnight visitor I had no
difficulty in recognizing him. It was
young Stanley Hopkins, a promising
detective, in whose career Holmes had
several times shown a very practical
Interest.
"Is he in?” he asked, eagerly.
“Come up, my dear sir,” said Holmes’
voice from above. "I hope you have
no designs upon us such a night as
this.”
The detective mounted the stairs,
and our lamp gleamed upon his shin
ing ivaterproor. I helped him out of
it, while Holmes knocked a blaze out
of the logs in the grate.
“Now, my dear Hopkins, draw up
and warm your toes,” said he. "Here's
a cigar, and thetloctor has a prescrip
tion containing hot water and a lemon,
which Is good medicine on a night
like this. It must be something im
portant which has brought you out in
such a gale.”
“It is indeed, Mr. Holmes. I’ve had
a bustling afternoon, I promise you.
Did you see anything of the Yoxley
case in the latest editions?”
’T’ve seen nothing later than the
fifteenth century today."
“Well, it was only a paragraph, and
all wrong at that, so you have not
missed anything. I haven’t let the
grass grow under my feet. It’s down in
Kent, seven miles from Chatham and
three from the railway line. I was
wired for at 3:15, reached Yoxley Old
Place at 5, conducted my investigation,
was back at Charing Cross by the last
train, and straight to you by cab."
"Which means, I suppose, that you
are not quite clear about your case?”
“It means that I can make neither
head nor tail of it. So far as I can
see, it is just as tangled a business as
ever I handled, and yet at first it
seemed so simple that one couldn’t go
wrong. There’s no motive, Mr. Holmes.
That's what bothers me—I can’t put
my hand on a motive. Here’s a man
dead—there’s no denying that—but, so
far as I can see, no reason on earth
why any one should wish him harm.”
Holmes lit his cigar and leaned back
in his chair.
"Let us hear about it,” said he.
“I've got my facts pretty clear,” said
Stanley Hopkins. "All I want now is
to know what they all mean. The
story, so far as I can make it out, is
like this: Some years ago this coun
try house, Yoxley Old Place, was tak
en by an elderly man, who gave the
name of Professor Coram. He was
an invalid, keeping his bed half the
time, and the other half hobbling round
the house with a stick or being pushed
.bout the grounds by the gardener
in a bath chair. He was well liked by I
the few neighbors who called upon him, !
and he has the reputation down there
of being a very learned man. His
household used to consist of an elderly :
housekeeper, Mrs. Marker, and of a
maid, Susan Tarlton. These have both
been with him since his arrival, and j
they seem to be women of excellent;
character. The professor is writing a
learned book, and he found it neces- : <
sary, about a year ago, to engage a1
secretary. The first two that he tried
were not successes, but the third, Mr. I
Willoughby Smith, a very young man
straight from the university, seems to c
I have been just what his employer
wanted. His work consisted in writ
ing all the morning to the professor's
dictation, and he usually spent the
evening in hunting up referenoes and
passages which bore upon the next
day’s work. This Willoughby Smith
has nothing against him. either as a
boy at Uppingham or as a young man
at Cambridge. X have seen his testi
monials, and from the first he was a
decent, quiet, hardworking fellow, with
no weak spot in him at all. And yet
this is the lad who has met his death
this morning in the professor's study
under circumstances which can point
only to murder.”
The wind howled and screamed at
the windows. Holmes and I drew
closer to the fire, while the young in
spector slowly and point by point de
veloped hia singular narrative.
“If you were to search all England,”
said he, "I don't suppose you could
find a household more self contained or
freer from outside influences. Whole
weeks would pass and not one of them
would go past the garden gate. The
professor was buried in his work anu
existed for nothing else. Young Smith
knew nobody in the neighborhood, and
lived very much ns his employer did.
The two women had nothing to take
them from the house. Mortimer, the
gardener, who wheels the bath chair,
is an army pensioner—an old Crimean
man of excellent character. He does
not live in the house, but in a three
roomed cottage at the other end of
the garden. Those are the only people
that you would find within the grounds
of Yoxley Old Place. At the same time,
the gate of the garden is a hundred
yards from the main London to Chath
man road. It opens with a latch, and
there is nothing to prevent anyone from
walking in.
"Now I will give you the evidence of
Susan Tarlton, who is the only person
who can say anything positive about
the matter. It was in the forenoon be
tween eleven and twelve. She was en
gaged at the moment in hanging some
curtains in the upstairs front bedroom.
Professor Coram was still in bed, for
when the weather is bad he seldom
rises before midday. The housekeeper
was busied with some work in the back
of the house. Willoughby Smith had
hppn in his hprirnnm whirh hp iirps ns
a sitting room, but the maid heard him
at that moment pass along the passage
and descend to the study immediately
below her. She did not see him, but
she says that she could not be mis
taken in his quick, firm tread. She did
not hear the study door close, but a
minute or so later there was a dreadful
cry in the room below. It was a wild,
hoarse scream, so strange and unnat
ural that it might have come either
from a man or a woman. At the same
instant there was a heavy thud, which
shook the old house, and then all was
silence. The maid stood petrified for a
moment, and then, recovering her cour
age, she ran downstairs. The study
door was shut and she opened it. In
side, young Mr. Willoughby Smith was
stretched upon the floor. At first she
could see no injury, but as she tried
to raise him she saw that the blood
was pouring from the underside of his
neck. It was pierced by a very small
but very deep wound, which had di
vided the carotid artery. The instru
ment with which the injury had been
inflicted lay upon the carpet beside
him. It was one of those small seal
ing wax knives to be found on old fash
ioned writing tables, with an ivory
handle and a stiff blade. It was part
of the fittings of the professor’s own
desk.
“At first the maid thought that
young Smith was already dead, but on
pouring some water from the carafe
over his forehead he opened his eyes
for an instant. 'The professor,’ he
murmured—'it was she.’ The maid is
prepared to swear that those were the
exact words. He tried desperately to
say somthir.g else, and he held his
right hand up in the air. Then he fell
back dead.
“In the meantime the housekeeper
had also arrived upon the scene, but
she was just too late to catch the
young man’s dying words. Leaving
Susan with the body, she hurried to
the professor's room. He was sitting
up in bed horribly agitated for he had
heard enough to convince him that
something terrible had occurred. Mrs.
Marker is prepared to swear that the
professor was still in his night clothes,
and indeed it was impossible for him
to dress without the help of Mortimer,
whose orders were to come at twelve
o'clock. The professor declares that he
heard the distant cry, but that he
knows nothing more. He can give no
explanation of the young man’s last
words, ‘The professor—it was she,’ but
Imagines that they were the outcome
of delirum. He believes that Willoughby
Smitli had not an enemy in the world,
and can give no reason for the crime.
His first action was to send Mortimer,
the gardener, for the local police. A
little later the chief constable sent for
me. Nothing was moved before I got
there, and strict orders were given that
ao one should awlk upon the paths lead
ing to the house. It was a splendid
chance of putting your theories into
practice, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. There
ivas really nothing wanting.”
"Except Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said
my companion, with a somewhat bitter
smile. "Well let us hear about it.
What sort of a job did you make of it?”
“I must ask you first, Mr. Holmes, to
;lance at this rough plan, which will
Only Cash There.
“It’s a good thing Mrs. Chadwick
idn’t get to Monte Carlo."
"Why so?"
“Why. she would have broken the
ank.”
“Not on your life. Promissory notes
on’t go there.”
give you a go;.urn i m u. position
of the professor’s study mid the var
ious points of tne case. It will help you
In following my Investigation."
He unfolded the rough chart, which
I here reproduce, and lie laid It across
Holmes' knee. I rose and standing be
hind Holmes, studied it over his
shoulder.
“It Is very rough, of course, and it
only deals with the points which seem
to me essential. All the rest you will
see later for yourself. Now, first of all,
presuming that the assassin entered
the house, how did he or she come in?
Undoubtedly by the garden path and
the back door, from which there Is
direct access to the study. Any other
way would have been exceedingly com
plicated. The escape must also been
made along tnat line, for of the other
two exits from the room one was
blocked by Susan as she ran down
stairs and the other leads straight to
the professor’s bedroom. I therefore
directed my attention at once to the
garden path, which was saturated with
recent rain, and would certainly show
any footmarks.
"My examination showed that I was
dealing with a cautious and expert
criminal. No footmarks were to be
found on the path. There could be no
question, however, that someone had
passed along tho grass border which
lines the path, and that he had done
so In order to avoid leaving a track.
I could not find anything in the nature
of a distinct Impression, but the grass
was trodden down and someone had
undoubtedly passed. It could only
have been the murderer, since neither
the gardener nor anyone else had been
there that morning and the rain had
only begun during the night."
"One moment,' said Holmes. "Where
does this path lead lo?”
"To the road.”
"How long Is it?"
“A hundred yards or so.”
"Well, on the road Itself?"
"No, It was all trodden Into mire."
"Tut-tut! Well, then, these tracks
upon the grass, were they coming or
going?"
"It was Impossible to say. There
was never any outline.”
"A large foot or a small?”
"You could not distinguish.”
Holmes gave an ejaculation of Im
patience.
"It has been pouring rain and blow
ing a hurrlcan ever since,” said he. "It
will be harder to read now than that
palimpsest. Well, well. It enn’t be
helped. What did you do, Hopkins,
after you had made certain that you
had made certain of nothing?”
“I think I made certain of a good
deal, Mr. Holmes. I knew that some
one had entered the house cautiously
from without. I next examined tho
corridor. It is lined with eoeoanut
matting, and had taken no Impression
of any kind. This brought me into
the study itself. It Is a scantily fur
nished room. The main article Is a
large writing table with a fixed bureau.
This bureau consists of a double col
umn of drawers, with a central small
cupboard between them. The drawers
were open, the cupboard locked. The
drawers, It seems, were always open,
miu nuuiiiiH ui vuiue was Kepi in mem.
There were some papers of Importance
In the cupboard, but there were no
signs that this had been tampered with,
and the professor assures us that noth
ing was missing. It is certain that no
robbery has been committed.
“I now come to the body of the young
man. It was found near the bureau,
just to the left of it, as marked upon
that chart. The stab was on the right
side of the neck and from behind for
wards, so that it is almost impossible
that it could have been self Inflicted.”
“Unless he fell upon the knife,” said
Hoknes.
“Exactly. The idea crossed my mind.
But we found the knife some feet away
from the body, so that seems Impos
sible. Then, of course, there are the
man’s own dying words. And, finally,
there was this very Important piece of
evidence which was found clasped in
the dead man’s right hand."
Prom his pocket Stanley Hopkins
drew a small paper packet. He un
folded it and disclosed a golden pince
nez, with two broken ends of black silk
cord dangling from the end of it.
“Willoughby Smith had excellent
sight,” he added. “There can be no
question that this was snatched from
the face or the person of the assas
sin.”
Sherlock Holmes took the glasses into
his hand and examined them with the
utmost attention and interest. He
held them on his nose, endeavored to
read through them, went to the win
dow and stared up the street with them,
looked at them most minutely in the
full light of the lamp, and fianlly with
a chuckle seated himself at the table
and wrote a few lines upon a sheet of
paper, which he tossed across to Stan
ley Hopkins.
“That’s the best I can do for you,”
said he. "It may prove to be of some
use.”
"The astonished detective read the
note aloud. It ran as follows:
“Wanted, a woman of good address,
attired like a lady. She has a re
markably thick nose, with eyes which
are set close upon either side of it.
She has a puckered forehead, a peer
ing expression, and probably rounded
shoulders. There are indications that
she has had recourse to an optician
at least twice during the last few
months. As her glasses are of re
markable strength, and as opticians are
not very numerous, there should be no
difficulty in tracing her.”
Holmes smiled at the astonishment
TT„„t. J „ „ ... u .• . v. ..._l i. ,
fleeted upon my features.
"Surely my deductions are simplicity
Itself,” said he. “It would he difficult
to name any articles which afford a
finer field for Inference than a pair of
glasses, especially so remarkable a pair
as these. That they belong to a wom
and I infer from their delicacy, and also,
of course, from the last words of the
dying man. As to her being a person
of refinement and well dressed, they
are, as you perceive, handsomely
mounted in solid gold, and It Is Incon
ceivable that anyone who wore such
glasses could be slatternly In other re
spects. You will find that the clips
are too wide for your nose, showing
that the lady's nose was very broad at
the base. This sort of nose Is usually
a short an coarse one, but there is a
sufficient number of exceptions to pre
vent me from being dogmatic or from
insisting upon this point in my descrip
tion. My own face is a narrow one,
and yet I find that I cannot get my
eyes into the center, nor, near the cen
ter of these glasses. Therefore, the
lady’s eyes are set very near to the
sides of the nose. You will perceive,
Watson, that the glasses are concave
and of unusual strength. A lady whose
vision has been so extremely contracted
all her life Is sure to have the physical
characteristics of such vision, which
are seen in the forehead, the eyelids,
and the shoulders.”
(Continued Next Week)
A Serious Error.
Town Topics: Druggist—Great pills!
1 believe 1 put arsenic instead of
powdered sugar in that man's pre
scription. Which way did he go? Do
you know who he was? What shall
1 do? Can’t you help me some
Friend Good heavens! J don't won
der you’re excited
Druggist—You bet. Why, man, ar
senic costs ten tln.cs i s much as sugar,
ind 1 only charged him for sugar!
Truth and—Another.
From Punch.
She came toward* me rather dubious
ly. as though not sure of her reception.
| "Who are you?" I asked.
"Truth." she said.
1 apologized for not having realized It.
"Never mind," she said, wearily,
| "hardly anyone knows me. I’m always
I having to explain who I am, and lots
j Df people don't understand then,"
{ A little later I met her, as I thought,
again.
"Well, I shan’t make any mistake this
time,” I said. "How ore you. Miss
Truth?"
"You are misinformed," she replied,
coldly; "my name Is Libel."
"But you’re exactly like Truth,” I
exclaimed—’’exactly!”
“Hush!” she said.
sir*. Windows oooTnma tmvr tor ChlMroa
Mmifcing; loftona too guma, rodooaa iuflanimauoa, gE
Ion Pda. ouroa wind oollo. »«mt gbottlo.
Pure Water Sky Blue.
From ’ L'lllustratlon.
After a long hesitation scientific men
agree today In admitting that water
physically pure, seen In mass Is sky
blue. This color Is that taken by the
white light of the sun when absorbed
by the water. In consequence of a phe
nomenon the explanation of which
would be a little long.
It to not due to the chemical purity
of the water, since the sea (which Is
the bluest water) Is also that which
contains the most salt. Nevertheless,
according to Forel’s experiments, the
matter In solution should be the pre
dominant cause of the modification of
color, upon which act, besides the mat
ter In suspension, the color of the bot
tom and the reflection of the sky and
of the banks. Consequently blue water
Is'pretty rare In nature; a good many
seas and lakes that give us the lmpres
Blon of this tint are green.
The water at present acknowledged
to lie the bluest Is that of the Sar
gasso sea, between the Cape Verde Isl
ands and the Antilles. The water of
the Mediterranean off the ffrench coast
and around Capri Is bluer than that of
Lake Leman, but less blue Itself than
that of the lakes of Kandersteg and
Arolla, In Switzerland. Pure water
containing a millionth of ferric hydrate
appears brown under a thickness of six
meters; a ten-millionth Is sufficient for
It to be green: and In order that It may
remain blue Is needed less than a twen
ty-millionth.
David Lloyd-Qeorge, M. D., had been
makfhg a political speech. When he
stepped down from the platform a
rugged old man camo up to him and
took his hand. Mr. Lloyd-George could
not remember 1dm. "Years ago,” said
the old man, "I was a doctor In Wales,
and one night was caHed out to go
five miles to attend a young child
who I was told was dying of croup. On
my way home I wondered whether it
was worth while to go so far to savo
a child who would only be brought up
to a life of misery and hunger. How
ever, the child recovered, and—well,
you were that child.”
SORES ON HANDS.
Suffered for a Long Time Without
Belief—Doctor Afraid to Touch
Them—Cured by Cuticura.
‘‘For a long time I suffered with
sores on the hands which were Itching,
painful, and disagreeable. I had three
doctors and derived no beueflt from
any of them. One doctor said ho was
afraid to touch my hands, so you must
know how had they were; another said
I never could he cured; and the third
said the sores were caused by the dip- i
ping of my hands In water In the dye- i
house where I work. I saw In the pa- j
pers about the wonderful cures of the
Cuticura Itemedles and procured some
of the Cuticura Soap and Cuticura
Ointment. In three days after the
application of the Cuticura Ointment
my hands began to peel and were bet
ter. The soreness disappeared, and
they are now smooth and clean, and
I am still working In the dye-house, i
Mrs. A. E. Maurer, 2340 State St., Chi- |
cago, 111., July 1, 1005.”
Ho Caught Them.
Of the late Henrik Ibsen a Journalist
said:
"Dr. Ibsen was unquestionably the lead
ing cltlxtn of his country. People flocked
to see hln who had never read his books.
That angired him greatly. It led him, in
the end, to refuse to meet strangers under
any circumstances.
“He spent every afternoon In a hotel
near his home reading the French and
uermun newspapers in me reacting room. !
In the crown of his hut he had a mirror, ;
and he would occasionally take a small '
comb from his pocket, and, with the help
of the mirror, comb his magnificent white
hair and beard. He drank a small glass
of brandy, followed by a glass of beer.
"On day a troop of some twelve or fif- i
teen English women forced their way |
somehow Into the reading room where Ib
sen sat and attempted to open a conver- i
nation with him.
“ 'Dr. Ibsen,’ the leader of this band !
said, 'we admire your plays tremendous
ly. We regard you as the leading mind
of the century. We havo read "Hedda )
Gabler," and "The Wild Duck," and “Ros
mersholmn,” and-.
" 'Have you read "Arne”?' Ibsen Inter
rupted.
" 'Yes. Oh, yes. It Is superb. It Is your
masterpiece. It Is-’
“ ‘A masterpiece, Indeed,' said the poet,
grimly, ‘but It Is not mine. "Arne” Is one
of BJornsen's works.’
"And, turning his back on the women,
ae took up his newspaper again."
Evolution of Literature.
Great Magazine Editor—a few years
hence—No use; no use; the magazine
must stop. Where's thut box of Rough 1
on Rats? I
His Wife—Mercy! Don’t commit sui
cide. What has happened? Have the
war articles run out?
Worse. Al! the writers in the coun
try have been gobbled up by literary
syndicates.
The Cate of Thaw.
From the Wall Street Journal. :
There la only ono possible defena4
for Thaw, and that la Insanity. If ha
was not Insane when he shot Stanfor4
White, then he committed a deliberate
murder. It would seem, therefore, as
If the question of his Insanity might be
determined by competent alienists. If
they say that ho Is lnsano, why put th#
city and the country to the expense anA
odium of a disgusting trial 7 Unfor
tunately, there Is a prospect of a die
agreement as to the question of his men.
tal condition, and this disagreement
will lead to an open conte-t In tba
courts.
It Is probably not far from the trutl*
to say that the power of 1100,000,000 la
behind Thaw. While ono cannot blame
his family and friends for wishing t»
escape the taint of his conviction tot
murder, It may be well to consldof
what the effect would be upon publle
opinion, alroady aroused to the point
of rebellion against abuses of wealth.
If ho should secure an acquittal throuri
the Influence of these millions. Som*
time or other the Wall street market*
may turn upon the question whether 11
Is possible to secure the conviction at
a rich man guilty of violation of law.
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