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About The Sioux County journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1888-1899 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 2, 1890)
' . V" . S r r - '' r- TWO WALK TOGETHER. F-r ajth kindly, romnula, Tba r to joa m bnxkt: TIm palk of dm; atrvu lung out, iBflear. straight libra of light. Jour Urart ia jiMinr. your Vkuoa kwm, Tla oal j(,b plainly ace; Kr ith ni kiuiily,cjajrJ, - It not ao with ma. Too frail to aalk baud titer, I lac aoma at) behind; And lli anrrtiw ab-pa m plain to job, 1 fatiuot aJaaya And. M? jrr too dim to rrarh the goal, but tha Brarrr tomh; 'thou bitat thriooreinK Klorr, But I tli Bightahade'a gloom. Yrt mnr wnlk toR-ther; If w hot "La jrr-d," To hurr our hop, ona aith, one aim, '-t in oir need. Ilia ln run mnkratronir aouls like job, And fantiaivra audi aa 1 Walk priu'rhil'a together here. And rt (ogrihrr Ij and by. TIIK DEATH TRAP 11V LUCY M. nooi'KIU I. Few persons who were in Purls on New Year's l)ay, 1885, but retain a vivid recollection of its horrors. The evening chjscd in mild and tran quil, but the night was full of perils. About 1 1 o'clock a finedrizzling rain set in that froze as it fell, and cov ered the whole of the rant city with a sheet of ice as smooth ns a mirror, on which neither man or benst could stand erect nor walk with safety. The festivities of the season had called u great many persons from their homes on thatevening, and the miseries of those who found them selves forced to traverse distances without the aid of a conveyance can readily be imagined, for the cabmen all struck work and went home. Lmlies in evening dress, white hlip pers and opera clonks w ere to be seen clinging to railings nml lamp-posts, and weeping in very helplessness of terror, unable to stir a step. Horses lav mooning with fractured limbs on the glassy roadway, and men slip jied arid tottared and fell, some re ceiving injuries from which they never recovered. I had been dining with nn old college friend. It had been a bache lor party, nnd a merry one; and it was past 12 o'clock when we broke up. Of course there was n shout of dismiiy from the whole party, some dozen in nil, when we discov ered the condition of the street; but there wus no help lor us. We could not all go hack to quarter ourselves on our host in his smnll, bachelor lodgings, and so we set off on our different ways. To make matters worse our host lived on the left hand of the Seine, not far from the Luxem bourg (inrdens, so that most of us were at an interminable distance from homo. I ni.vw.-lf wag stopping at the Hotel do France, on the Hue St. Jlonore, three miles off. ( (no ot her of the party had to go there also. He was a handsome young fellow from the provinces, . named (Jimtav Veronge, who had, as 1 heard from another of the guests, lately inherited a good deal of mon ey, and has comeup to Paris to see life. I could hardly claim him even ns nn nnpiaintnnce, for we had met that evening for the first time. As we went out into the stn-et, he ask ed to what quarter of I'nris I was going; nnd on learning my destina tion, cried: "Well, I'm going a stone's throw from there.-ho come, and we will w alk together." He was not only in full evening dress like the rest ol ns but in a verv elaborate one. His low, open vest showed a shirt front of fabulous fineness, whereon glit tered three diamond studs, each stone of no inconsiderable size, and of tho purest water. Four buttons, also oldiamonils. closed his vest, and ho wore on the little finger of his left hnnd a hnndsomo solitaire. I thought all this rather bad taste; but he seemed like a thoroughly good fellow, and his manners were certainly very interesting. We got along pretty well for about half an hour, dipping and sliding and stumb ling about, nnd then falling. At last my companionslippednnd fell ogain, and when he strove to rise, sank back, uttering a stiffle.l groan. "Have vou hurt yourself?" I asked, anxiously, assisting him to rise. He fell back with another groan. "I fear thnt my knee is injured," he said. "I ran hardly stand." With dilficulty 1 got him at Inst on his feet. Hutevery stop betook gave him pnin. Of course I could not go off and leave him ulone. Meantime, not a human being was in sight. "Where lire we?'' ho asked,, faintly. ' I mudc my way to the nearest corner, nnd road the name of the "TheUue de Kislay," I replied, coming back. "I have not the least idea where we arc," he said. "1 never heard of thnt street." Jly this time I was feeling pretty well exhausted. I began to be thor oughly discouraged. "Our best plun," I said, "is to ' look for some hotel where we ran pas the night. It ia of no use try- ing to go any farther. There is not vehicle of any sort to be had." "You are right. But where can we And a hotel?" At be spoko, a man in a blouse, with a pipe tn hi mouth, swur. li'm elf under V shadow ol an urOm by. "If tliese gentlemen wish. I can show them a hotel close by," he said in a civil tone. "Do so, and we will give you five franc for your pains," cried Ver onge, impulsively. "We are strangers in l'aris, you see, and 1 have not an idea which way to turn." "Ah, monsieur is a stranger in Paris? Will monsieur lean on me? The hotel is not far off not five steps distant, in fact." It was very m ar. A little farther, in truth, than our officious friend hud stated, but still juit around the nearest comer. It was nn ancient- raking, white washed building, standing back from the street, with a small garden in front of it. No name was painted across the front of the house, ns is usunl with Parisian hotels. (Inly a red lamp, with the word "Hotel" on it in black letters, was . ?t in an iron framework projecting above the door. We paid our conductor, who sham bled down the street, after casting a hist glance nt the glittering studs and vest buttons which Veronge dis played as he threw back ins overcoat In order to get cut the money. A sleepy-looking old woman in a calico short gown and petticoat, and withavellow silk handkerchief tied about her head answered our sum mons at the door of the little hotel. "Oh, yes, you can have rooms cer tainly, though the house is very full. Monsieur bus hurt his knee, has he? Then monsieur shall have the ground floor room, of course. The other monsieur I must pray to mount to the third floor." "Could we not huve rooms togeth er?,' suggested Veronge. "Impossible! Quite impossible!" The old woman was wide awake by this time, and very energetic. "In fact, the two rooms I have offered nre the hist thut are left, for the house has a good name, though it is small." While talking she had lighted a couple of cnndles and preceded us along a narrow passageway at the end of whichwnsadoor, whichsheun locked und threw open with a flour ish. "You see, you could not lo better lodged in the Grand Hotel." The room looked omfortublo. It was long and narrow. There was one window at the lelt-hnnd side ns we entered. The ls-d stood in an alcove draped with hangings of green moreen. Tho window was protected outside by a massive iron grating, such ns is usually employed on ground-floor windows in I ranee. I advanced to this window, nnd, hold ing my candle aloft, peered out into the darkness. 1 could see that it opened into a sort of narrow yard, terminated by a high bland wall. The old woman, troubling herself very little about my scrutiny of the premises, whs engaged meanwhile in lighting the fire, which was laid all ready lor the match in thelittle grate. When our old conductress had got the fire well under way she rose und testified her intention of accompany ing me at once to the room destined for me. It was up three flights of stairs, butwas snug and comfortable enough, though rather small. The old woman lit my fire, ns she had dono that of Veronge, and then went back to bed. Tired as I was, I had no notion ofgo ing to sleep without paying a last visit to Veronge, to see it he needed my help in undressing. So, merely wait ing to pulJ offmy overcoat and rain soriked boots, I went downstairs again. I found Veronge sitting by the fire, and nursing his aching kneo with a very dismal expression of counten ance. He brightened up at once when ho saw me enter, and became, in spite of his pain, quite chatty and confidential. When I rose to retire, which 1 did in about half an hour, feeling wofully tired, he would not hear of my departure. "Sit down," he cried; "sit still for a while; 'tis only 2 o'clock, nnd 1 have such a story to tell you." So dow n I sat, and lit a cigar, while Veronge plunged into some inter minable liistory of college scrapes and ndveutures. The arm-chair in which I sat was soft and comforta ble, the fire gnvo out a drowsy heat, the story was stupid, and in fifteen minutes I was fast asleep. H. It seemed to me that I had just lost consciousness, wiien I was sud denly awakened by a terrible shriek, a cry ns if for help, with which it ap peared to bo my own name win mingled. 1 started bolt upright, wide-awake in an instant. All around was still, Thocandlo wnsextinguish ed, but the room was lighted by the n'ddy glow of the fire in the grate. So profound was the silence thut the patter of the rain against the window-panes was distinctly audible. Veronge was nowhere to be seen. "Veronge!" I called in a half whis per, not wishing to wake him were he sleeping, "have you gone to bed?" Then) wns no nnswer. I stretched myself, yawned, and took a look at the clock. "Half past 3," I muttered. I must have been dreaming. 1 had best get to bed as fast and ns quietly as pos sible. I had no idea that I iiiielept so long." I took up my candle nnd essayed to light it at the fire. As I did o it struck me that the room was strange ly, unnaturally quiet; not a sound, not even thnt of heavy breathing, betrayed the presence of the sleeper in the alcove. That horrid'ery. too, waa still riniring In my ears, so I re solved that I would tako one glance at my friend to satisfy myself as to hi well-doing. , "He might have the nightmare," I thought; and so it will be a charity to arouse him.'' So I advanced'to the alcove, lifted the curtain and looked in. There was no one there. The bed was in disorder, the covering tossed aside and the pillow pushed away, but it was untenanted. The alcove was small; there was barely room in it for the bed. a small washstand and a little night table, so that I saw the whole extent of it at a glance. For the moment I did not expect that anything was wrong. I thought that Veronge, like the mere boy be was, bad hidden away somewhere to give me a fright and had then cried out to awaken me. "Veronge," 1 called impatiently, "come out here. Where are you?" There was no reply; Repressing a growing feeling of an noyance, 1 set to work at once to in vestigate every corner of the room. My taBk was a short oue. Veronge was no w here to le discovered. Yet there lay his clothes. How could he, undressed nnd lame, havequitted the room? A sudden thought struck me. "Poor fellow!" I thought;" he must be walking in his sleep." With that idea I advanced to the door and endeavored to ojs-n it. To my amazement I found that the in side bolt wus shut. It was evident thnt Veronge had quitted the room Yet, where was he? He could not have gotten out of the iron-grated window, and the room had but a sin gle door. Ah, the bed under the lied? I had not looked there. Doubt less he was lying there and chuckling over my perplexity. "Ah, the rascal!" I said to my self. I have him now!" I advanced to the bed, lifted the valance of green moreen, and found that the bedstead was a sort of solid box that continued to the floor, so thut there was, technically speaking no "under the bed" at nil. I was now completely bewildered. Of course uny species of foul play seemed out of the question. The bolted door- and barred window seemed to settle that matter, so fur ns the entrance of any male actor was concerned. Yet, if no one could get in how could Veronge have got out? And if he hud not quitted tho room, where was he? Could anyone have gotten in by a secret entrance while we slept? With that ideal started to investigate tho walls. Two sides of the wall were of course accounted for, as outside of one lay tho passageway, and on the other tho open yard. I carefully examined the wall opposite the door. All solid and smooth there: no trace of an opening anywhere. Then I proceeded to the alcove. Here I found rather more difficulty, ns the heavy bed-curtains were considerably in my way. ltut I nm mi god to satisfy myself that the wall at each end of the bed was all right. Next I turned my attention to the wall at the opposite side of the lied. To investigate that I waa forced to lean across the bed; so I knelt upon the edge of the bed, and to steady myself I leaned my weight on the cen ter ol tho bed. As I leunojlmy weight on the bed it gave way suddenly be neath my hands. A rush of cold, noisome air streamed upward to my nostrils, nnd had I not clutched at the bedpost with my other band I should have inevitably lost my bal ance and have plunged headforemost into some horrible abyss. Yes, tho bed opened downward in tho middle. I had solved the riddle of my poor friend's fate. I staggered backward, heartsick with amazement and dismay. It was some moments before I recovered my self sufficiently to continue my ex amination of the hideous trap into which I had so nearly fallen. It needed some minutes' repose to enable me to proceed in my investigations. When I did so I was amazed at th horrible simplicity of the whole contrivance. Tho bed it self, instead of being a solid mattress, was merely two enshioned doors, fit ting close together in the center acd held up by some strong springs, such ns serve to close the doors of public buildings or stores. A certain amount of pressure was necessary to force open these divisions. Each side was covered smoothly with linen, and so closely did the two divisions fit thnt a glance would have revealed noth ing unusual about the appearance of the bed. It merely looked likeonc of those mattresses which are made with a division in the center. I carefully pressed tho door open and peered down into the depth thus revealed. The same cold, damp air that I had noticed before rushed up into my face, redolent of tho chill mouldness of the cellar. 1 listened Not a sound was heard from below. I dared make no further examina tion. Who could tell w hat unseen eyes might be watching my every movement, what hidden ears might be alert to catch the slightest sound that might suspicion or detection? At first 1 thought of tying a cord to my candle and of lowering it down into the abyss, but I abandoned the project almost as soon as I conceiv ed it. Poor Veronge was deadl Of thnt there could lie no doubt. The fiends who planned that murder trap were not likely to leave their work half finished. All thnt was left to menow was to nvengo his fate; that is, if I did not share it. in. I tat down to meditate over my course of action, and collect my scat tered thoughts. My first impulse waa to escape from the house at once, (tut how was uch a feat possible? The window of the room was securely closed with Iron barn. Moreover, if I did succeed in forcing oat the grat ing, 1 should And myself in a narrow yard, enclosed on all sides by a high wall. Any attempt to leave the house by the door would of court a route the stupizion of the inmate, who were doubtless on the alert. ISut one course remained to me, and that was to return as stealthily as possible to the room assigned to me, there to await t lie arrival of the hour at which I could quit the premises without exciting suspicion. I came to this resolve after much declaration. I extinguished my candle, crept softly and stealthy along the pussage and up the stairs, which seemed to my excited fancy to shake, quiver and creak at every step that I took. But I gained my room unmolested, bolted myself in securely, and throwing myself on the bed with out undressing I awaited the ap proach of morning. Oh, the long, long hours! How in terminable they were, and how slow ly they were passed! How often the squeak of a mouse in the wainscot ing, or the snapping of a coal in the grate clilled the blood in my veins and paralized me with terror! Often too, I would drop asleep, only to start awake the next moment with tho death-shriek of Veronge ringing in my ears. 1 thought that the night would never end. At last the window slowly grew a glimmering squnre; the pale light of dawn showed me the shape of things about me, and the friendly morning peered in upon mo once more. Y'et I did not dare to urise nnd go forth at once. I must linger still until my hour of ris ing would be sufficiently late to be tray neither compromising knowl edge nor inquietude. At lust, about 8 o'clock, I got up from my comfortless couch, adjusted the disorder of my dress,- bustling as I did so about the room, with a great pre tense at making a finished toilet, and whistling a merry tune. Then I rang my bell, ordered the usual French early breakfast of a roll and a cup of coffee, und asked for my roll to be sent at the same time. The coffi-e was brought by the same old woman who had admitted Veronge anil myself the night before. "The friend ol monsieur left about half an hour ago," she said as she set down the tray. "He left no mes sage for monsieur." "Friend! lie was no friend of mine. I met him accidentally in the street last night," was my reply, given in as gny and careless a tone as 1 could well assume" "Indeed! Well, lu's knee hurt him and he could not sleep; so he sent Jean for a cab, nnd went off soon after daybreak this morning." I made no answer, but continued to crumblo my bread nnd stir my coffee with pretended indifference. As soon ns the old hag had quitted tho room I emptied tho contents of the coffee-cup out ol my window, put a bit of roll in my pocket, and prepared to go. No one offered any opposition to my departure, but it was not till I found myself fairly in the open street that I ventured to draw my breath freely. The ice was melted from the pavements, and I had no difficulty in finding a cab. I hailed the first one I saw passing, jumped in, and cried to tho driver: "To tho Prefecture of Police at once, as fast ns you enn drive!" Ihen, as the carriage started, 1 fell down in the bottom of it in a dead faint. An hourlater the accursed den and its inmates were in the bunds of th police. The latter comprised t he old woman, a man who seemed to be the proprietor, (who was no other than the man who had nccosted Veronge and myself the night before, and who had guided us to the house), and two young aud showy-looking females. who, as I afterward learned, were tho decoy ducks of the establishment. Guided by me, the able and intelli gent chiel-of-police made a thorough invesigation , of the murderous ap paratus ol the ground floor, bedroom How He Cot a Start. From the Man About Town in tho Star. A tall, portly man, with a homely but expressive facoand a pronounced Scotch accent, was chatting with some friends in tho Fifth Avenue lob by. I recognized him as Hon. John H. Leeds of Connecticut, and was re minded of the occurrence that gave him his first start in life. Thirty years ngo he wtfsa poor boy earning a more pittance. To-day he is rich, has "lit a wide swnth in politics, has much to sny in Connecticut affairs, and lives in a fine mansion at New Haven. When a lad ho discovered some tramps endeavoring to wreck a train on the New York & Now Haven road, in a spirit of revenge for hav ing lieen thrown from a train. They had heaped up a number of railroad ties on the track, just before a fast express from Hoston was due. At the point where the obstruction was placed the train would bo going at full speed, and half a hundred feet ahead was the bank of a river. If the express struck the pile of ties it would certainly have been derailed, nnd, plowing ahead, would have gone down into the river. Young Leeds knew the train was due in a very few minutes when l.e discovered the tramps at work. Ho could not attack them single-handed, neither had ho time to remove the big ties if he succeeded by any divice in scaring them away. So ho ran to meet the approaching express, wav ing his red shirt. The train wns stopped in time and a purse was raised for young Leeds nnd the tramps were captured. Leeds was given employment in the railroad company s office and a life pass on the road. He rose rapidly by honest endeavor, has held many public offices of trust, and served in the Assembly for several terms. A Sensational Letter. An amusing hoax appears to have Jieen perjwtrated upon the foreign press in the shape of a letter alleged to have been written by the present czar prior to his ascension to the throne, to thefamouseditorandoan slavist leader, Aksakoff, whose widow died a few weeks ago. The document in question, which bears the date of May 22, 1K(0, contains bitter com ment on the class of courtiers by whom the imperial family was sur rounded, and compares the highest officers of state tocontemptable lack eys. The publication of the letter in question has excited an immense amount of attention throughout Europe, and it appears to have been copied in almost every foreign news paper of any inportance. The whole thing is, however, but a hoax. The letter in question, instead of having been written by the present emperor, was addressed in 171)0 to Count Kotchoubey by the Grand Duke Alexnnder Paul witch, who subse quently ascended the throne as Alex ander I. The coui tiers refered to in such bitter terms were the ignoble fa vorites ofhis grandmother Catharine II. The original letter will be found in the first volume of the "Life and Times of Alexander I," published by C. Toneville in 1874. For Adoption. A gentleman living near Allegan, Mich., relates an interesting story of feline sagacity. Some person owning a cat with three kittens, and desiring to be rid of them, took them in a bug to a wood near the gentleman's house, and dropped them. In u short time the mother cat was seen to approach the house with a kitten in her mouth. Reaching the the door, she dropped the kitten and retreated to the woods, from whence she returned with n not her kitten; but instead of leaving it where the first was left, she took it to a neighbor ing house, then returning to the woods brought out tho third and last kitten, and left it at still another neighbor's. The old cat then disappeared, nnd was not seen again until it wns time for the kittens to be led, when she visited each house. nursed thekittens and then disappeared again. This course of procedure she fol lowed until the kittens were weaned, when she disappeared, and has not been seen since. Wus it reason or instinct that caused the mother cat to distribute the kittens to different homee, thfiS all might be ndopted and the lives of all spared? Youth's Companion. Shot Off His Companion's Gun Barrel. I was hunting quail near Iteidsville, N, C, six years ago, with S. S. Har ris and James Piny, of that town. Harris and myself were walking side by side, when two birds were flushed at the same time. Harris was on my left and fired at the bird on my right, I firing at the one on his left. Thus cross firing, both fired simul taneously. Harris killed his bird, but I did not. Harris said my powder was not good. We walked on about thirty paces, when Harris lowered his gun to extract the empty shell. Sudden ly he exclaimed: "Look! the end of my gun barrels have bursted off. We examined them and found they were not bursted, but I had shot them off as smothly as if they had been corn stalks when they fired. We walked back to the spot and found five inches of his gun barrels lying there. I have one of the pieces now and will mail it to Judge Gilder sleeve if desired. This is an iron truth nothing fishy about it. If you desire reference I refer you to Mr. George Cary Eggleston. Cor. New York Evening World. School Teachers. If every new girl who is introduced as a school teachers should be "drop ped" by the board when sho proves to be a failure, we would soon have no teachers, or good ones at least. It is strange, but a fact, that, as us ual, the girls who, for from two to three years, seem utterly hopeless, finally become the best in the staff, while on the other hand, those who start out most promising, too often becomes worthless. While the Nor mal school lays u good foundation, it does not finish a teacher in fuct, "making a teacher" only commences when she makes her debut in the sSiool room. The superintendent's staff and her principal watch, in struct, nnd discipline her, lor three to four years, when she is a thorough, reliable teacher, and then she goes ofl and marries, generally. An Editorial Necessity. House Agent "Let me see, I have a very nice vacant flat, sir, on" Applicant "Woc't do. I don't want a flat. I must have a house." "House?" "Yes, with a garden." "Garden?" "Certainly." "Um-Well, now I think of it, I have one place a little out that might sin. There is a space of ten or fifteen squnre feet at the back. It is uow paved with stone, but the parement cun be taken up easily enough." "Yhiit will do." "AH right. Forid of flowers, eh?" "No, but I've got to have some sort of a garden, you know, because I'm the oditor of an agricultural paper. The Clock' Secret; or GvmrC ed by Ghosts. It was hard work to build sma doe tor's practice in such aa oat-of-tk way Southern town, but 1 held as and hoped for the best. Annie tasfii in tbe public school there, and sell she was content to wait if it for tt3 years until she should be able to SsSIS I was just beginning to dasoair, when I heard of my uncle's death fca the North. He had left me nothinx, however, but his old manor near tbs town where I lived. A mouldy old structure, inhabited by an old dar key care-taker, and for years the up per floors had never been lived in. I took Annie down on Saturday to look over the place, for after aO is was something to own a house and be free from rent when we mar ried. "Ef I was you," said the old ne gress when we explained tbe reason of our visit, "I wouldn't go up them windin' stairs. The upper floors ia full o' ghosts and ghostesses. Why, my brudder went up one day, and be was found nigh dead the nex' mawn." , I only laughed at her superstitions, and started up the fatal stairs. When about half way up the most horribl sounds greeted us. It was, as the old woman had said, as though a whole -host of demons were groaning and gnashing their teeth, and the sound seemed to envelop us. They were horrible and were enough to make the stoutest heart quail, lor they seemed to increase after they had - once commenced. I turned to Anniey" ; as quickly as I could, and, seeing by , her face that she was likely to faint, . put my arm about her to support her J, as I seated her on a lower step, for - the sound ceased as we stepped back. . ,nf- "I)o you mind waiting for mo down- t stairs?" I nsked, "while I examine in- ; , to this, or would you prefer to havc-VJ" me wait and come out another t;r.w.9' 1 "No, I am going upstairs with you," she said bravely. "I am I ashamed of my want of nerve jus vy now." , . As she spoke she leaned back anct J rested one elbow on tho step above? her. Instantly the horrible sounds t'j were heard again, butas Anniemoved forward again they suddenly ceased. "You had better let me take you down," 1 said quickly, as I saw her " face lose color again. '., "No," she said in a half-subdued voice, "I felt somethinggive way just, ',',: then, Tom. See what it is." It did not take me many minutes ' to remove the carpet, but in doing it I found that I could, fit will, render , the horrible sounds audible or in audible. Annie became as much In ' terested and ex;ited as I, and when I .v ra ised the loose plank that seemed to .; cause it all she peered, with aa rnseb '. interest as I, into the cavity ft -J vealed. - '. '.V ' "I'm not afraid of jpinytt she had said when I hesitated w , move it. "I must see what it is, Tot "What we did Bee was a mass I machinery. There were wheels, so put together that t hey grated fright fully when touched. "What do you suppose this was for?" asked Annie. "I do not know, unless my uncle used it as a sort of watchAlog to' keep from being molested while up stairs. He surrounded himself wit" mystery to make himself and ever thing about him a terror to bo; black and white during the war." J - We examined the machinery ; its connection and found that e; step above it was connected W some part of it, so that the sour kept increasing as one proceeded the stairs, but. just as I was ab to restore the plank to its place, t stopped me, and drawing out a si v of yellow paper, rend: "Behind the clock on the stairs." ' Above us, still and silent, stood th old clock on the landing. Slowly t and with a feeling of awe, we went to'i . it and moved it, wondering what new ' mystery was about to bo explained; but apparently there was nothing unusual) examined the dock itself and then the wall, having some yis- ) ionnry ideas of secret panels, but all f of no avail, and we were about to ' give up the search when the sun came out again, and, shining through a broken shutter, showed a solitary speck in the old-fashioned paper that glittered like a diamond. Eagerly we worked at it until we could under stand the workings of it, and then yes, there was our secret panel and there was my dead and gone uncles' money box. Taking it into an ad joining room and examining it, we . found papers and money amounting to f5,(K)0, which had been hidden during the war for safe keeping. Aa the money was all in gold; it would have been a godsend to some one had not my uncle, by his eccentrici ties and mysteries kept every one at bay. Unfortunately he did not live to enjoy it himself, and it was left for me to inherit and make the most of. Annie and I decided immediately uiaao uur uuiliv WWTC, ttBU II IS S "V very happy one, for the windfc:r 1 i m . t m . nmiin seau lortn none ou nappy sounds now. ' It Happens That Way. Yes sir-yes, sir" hepbeerrsd M he rubbed his hands tewther. "the next alderman from oar ward mutt be a clean, decent, honest, tatellsrt man, nnd credit to his constttOfCtJ. ies, sir yes, sir; we have mac r" our minds to fshtJi -"- irrespective of party. Wesh3 en masse. The candidate? V he.ll be selected from ry rir conrse!"-Dttrolt Fret fnci . N ... I tto .... u "Hi ( . . " , , v- ., ' 'Jk -'t. A tH f V