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CHAPTER III.
Nora Dene had Iiwd married nearly a
year. So strangely had the marriage
Come about that ofteu she herself wan
puzzled to account for all the motive
that had urged her on to such a rash and
unconsidered step.
She hint been engaged in the first in-atam-e
to Major the lion. Barry Larrou.
lso of the the th Hussars a man more
than double her age, and rendered gloomy
And auspicious by a former unlucky in
cident in bin life. It had been bin strange
ly urgent, even selfish exacting love that
bad fascinated her. She had thought hi
passion the deeper that it had showed
itself in such an uncouth form, contrast
ing so markedly with the gentle, almost
lavish devotion that was offered her by
Other lovers. For awhile she flattered
fcerself that she could tame this savage
Orson, and render him subservient to all
ber whims aud fancies. Hut time dis
proved this, and she became impatient
nder his jealousy, and rebelled against
the strict supervision he deemed it neces
sary to keep over her actions. Girlishly
Unheeedful of the consequences, she
played upon his fear, thinking to punish
tlim by giving more cause for his susph:
lons, and when remonstrated with she
Only laughed.
' "I will be an old man's darling if you
like," she told him, saucily; "but noth
ing shall persuade me to be an old man's
lave."
he was so innocent of evil that she did
not understand the extent of bis doubts.
1 She flirted with such openness that the
veriest tyro could not have been misled,
more especially as she so artlessly be
trayed her love for her fiance at every
turn; he was the only one who was blind
enough to doubt her.
At last a crisis came. He had forbid
den her to dance, an exercise of which
he was passionately fond, and she had
not rebelled, for even to herself it seemed
elfish to indulge a taste he could not
share. Now, not content with that, he
told her he objected to her singing before
any one but her own family.
' Then the girl grew rebellious, aud re
fused to comply with such an unreason
able request. That same evening, in de
fiance of his wishes, she sung at a large
party, and when he showed evident dis
pleasure, made no effort to conciliate hirn.
The next morning he w rote to her, say
ing that her hive of gaiety and craving
lor admiration were incompatible with
the life he should wish his wife to lead,
and that he could not trust her with his
happiness and honor.
Only one other oH'u er was with him on
detachment at Hattiabad. and to him be
declared his intention of giving her up:
tint bis confidence bad been met with in
dignant warmth.
4ienald Dene had known Nora Molnet
all her life, and was furious at what to
him seemed an unwarrantable insult. 'I he
wedding day was fixed -was to have been
in that same month indeed; and he knew
bow her fair fame would suffer if she
were jilted so at the last moment. The
merely friendly feeling b- had felt for
fcer seemed to develop in a moment to al
most brotherly affection. Had she been
indeed his sister, hi could not have more
keenly resented Major Lorron's behavior.
There appeared only one way to show
his sense of the cruel injustice of such
conduct, and to silence malicious tongues.
He must offer to become her husband in
Major Lnrron's stead.
Undeterred by fear of ridicule or re
buff, he put his chivalrous resolve into ex
ecution. He told the girl of the shame
he feiV '.hat one belonging to the regi
ment should have behaved so badly, and
how utterly he disbelieved in the truth of
the accusations against herself.
"In proof of which," he added, gravely,
'"I can only say that if you will marry
me. Nora, I will do my best to be worthy
of your confidence aud to win your love."
And she hud consented to the strange
proiMjsal, knowing that she was not brave
enough to face the jeers or pity of society
when the fact transpired that she had
been jilted. And she thought that Gerald
Dene loved her.
Her pleasure was his first thought, her
wishes his own consideration, lie was al
ways at hand to do her service, and gave
her no oplKirtunity to "discover how he
was getting more necessary to her every
day. Although formerly a keen sports
man, he now seldom or never went out
with his rifle or rod fur fear she should
begin to think about the past, and find
leisure to repent the step she had taken.
That one short year had changed her
terrib'y. The shock to her pride had boon
co great that sin had seemed to grow
suddenly old, caring for none of those
tilings which had delighted her before.
Her whole lieing had become chastened,
and the laughter quenched upon her lips.
She bad never danced since her tnar
tiage. eihe sung sometimes, but without
that happy ring which had made her sing
ing so pleasant to the ear. Certainly she
bad grown very stnid too staid, thought
ier young husband, as he watched her
furtively at lime.
The young wife had made no women
friends in Alipore. She was in fact rather
difficult to please, but she took Jane to
fcer heart directly, liking her the better
tfeat aha was ao free from young ladyism
ao fresh and unspoiled by contact with
be workf. Having been ao long in her
stoarMt school, ab had contracted a nnn
Eia ahyneaa and grade winning way that
M to bar charm.
I Qnlawal Prlnsep, too, saw a good deal
fcf fete VfotM. M Mn Dmm persisted in
(-Z24 Jaaa to haraatf; be had alwaya
I jcsM fear Mora than ordinarf
J t -y " aity a4l aeon, dsasoversd
J fco otfear eJaleee ta
t'X.'-xZm. Ot mm aa brfe eaaJ
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unaffected, and above all so imbued with
a sense of his superiority, than which
nothing gie so surely to a man's heart.
Most people find it difficult to resist flat
tery, when delicately administered; aud
in this case the homage was quite uin-on-sciotisly
rendered, and so of double worth.
Mrs. Dene smiled sometimes at Jane's
enthusiasm, yet on the whole agreed with
her. She had always liked Colonel I'rin
sep, though she bad never seemed to
know him so well as of late, now that he
so often joined them in their rides and
drives. Beside w hich they were acting
together in a comedietta, and Jane often
assisted at their impromptu rehearsals.
The Colonel was notably good at theatric
als, but this was Mrs. Dene's first effort,
and she had been very unwilling to ac
cept the part: only the fact that the ier
formunce was for the benefit of a regi
mental charity, and that her husband
wished it, at last persuaded her.
Very pleasant were the afternoons ent
in these rehearsals. Jane would be seated
at the further end of the room as audi
ence, her eyes fixed demurely on the little
yellow book, listening with unnecessary
intentness to the Colonel's drawling
tones, which were becoming dearer to her
than she well knew. Sometimes they
referred a knotty point to her, and had
she been observant, she must have noticed
that Colonel I'rinsep always adopted her
suggestions. Once Mrs. Dene laughingly
appealed to him. w hether Jane would not
make the bettor actress of the two; but
he only smiled, and forcbore to express an
opinion.
Often he found himself glancing around
to see if she were near; in church he list
ened almost unconsciously for her voice,
which was at times tremulously up
raised; and once as be stood near her at
an afternoon "At Home" at their mess,
it entered into his mind that, being so
slim and lightly made, she ought to be
a pleasant partner.
He strolled toward her slowly.
"You are not dancing," be observed,
and smiled a little consciously as at the
sound of his voice she turned, her ex
pression betraying a delight that all her
demureness could not hide.
"Some one did ask me," she assured
him, gravely.
"I do not doubt it. Was he such a bad
performer that you refused?"
"It was more of my own shortcomings
I was afraid. You see" blushing "I
have never learned to dance."
"Dancing is an art that require no
teaching; it comes by instinct to to such
as you."
"I wish I could believe so," she an
swered, quickly, too eager to show em
barrassment at the compliment implied.
"Try with me" ersuasively.
"I dare not; besides. I could not. I am
with Mrs. Dene, and she is not dancing
the gentleman she introduced to me
would be offended "
"Half a dozen bad reasons don't make
one good one," be laughed, Bayly.
"Ooftie."
lie put his arm round her waist, and
drew her forward unresistingly. When
the first awkwardness was over she en
joyed it, as be could not fail to see by
the flush on her cheeks ami the sparkle
in her hazel eyes.
When they stopped at last he was
smiling, as men will smile when they
have broken down one of the weak walls
which women love to erect, often more
as a pris-aution than a defense. Then
almost immediately his mood changed,
and he led her buck to her chaperon
without making any remark.
At that moment Captain Dene returned,
and holding out his cigar-case t the
Colonel, led the way on to the veranda.
It was quite dark, and a warm wind
rustling among the trees prevented their
footsteps from being heard. Mrs. Dene,
unconscious of their presence, answered
June's inquiry.
"You were exactly describing Colonel
I'rinsep," she said, laughing lightly. "So
he is your ideal of a perfect man."
A discreet cough from her husband
startled both, and they turned to see that
he and Colonel I'rinsep were close behind
them.
CHATTER IV.
Colonel Prinsep drove home that even
ing with a strange sensation of anger
tempered with involuntary amusement.
Like most men, be disliked being put in
a ridiculous position, and strenuously ob
jected to being the declared hero of a
romantic girl, however charming he
thought her. The daughter of his own
quartermaster, too!
For Beveral days after this he saw
nothing of her.
The Colonel had driven out iilwiut ten
miles to look at some ground where the
regiment were to practice reconnoitering.
and he was on his homcwaid road w hen,
turning a corner, he came upon some
thing that made his horse suddenly
swerve.
It was Jane, Heated on the ground, and
near her stood a bamboo cart with broken
abaft.
There bad evidently been some acci
dent, for the pony and syce that must
have once belonged to it had disappeared;
and she herself did not attempt to rise
when he came within sight.
"You are hurt!" exclaimed the Colonel,
jumping down from his high neat, and
going hastily toward her, his arm through
his horse's reins.
She turned her pretty, piteous face to
ward him, and there was something o au-x-aling
and confiding in her glance that
his own insensibly grew warmer.
"Yon are hurt!" he repeated, with more
solicitude in his tone than had been ex
pressed before.
"Only frightened, I think.' I am always
timid driving. The pony kicked over the
trace and npaet the cart and, oh, I am
ao very glad you came!"
8ba out ana hand in hla aa he held them
oat to help bar, bat the grew ao paJe aa
aba etaoa ap that be did not withdraw
bta aopsjert,
-1 aas afraid Ihi Httle hart," aba
confessed, uieetmg his anxion gas; "I
wrenched my foot when I fell out, and
my arm "
She broke off with a faint cry aa she
tried to mova it.
"We must get you home at once."
aid Colonel rrinaep, promptly. "But
your pony did you see in what direction
be made off?"
"The syce took him home to bring back
help. They will be so anxious when they
see hira without me."
"Then we will start at ouce."
He almost lifted her into hi dog-cart,
and drew the rug round her gently, fas
tening bis own overcoat 1ihm ly round her
neck, while she neither deprecated his at
tentions nor evaded them.
He had seated himself Is-side her, and
gathered up. the reins.
"Are you ready?" he asked her. gently.
She nodded assent, and they drove on
quickly through the chllL fresh air.
The next morning, in spite of the doc
tor's injunctions and her mother'
alarmed entreaties, Jane insisted upon
being dressed in a loose tea gown, ao that
she might lie on the drawing-room sofa:
may lie an indefinite idea of missing the
Colonel if he called bad something to do
with her unwillingness to play the in
valid. Though scarcely conscious that it had
gone, so far, she made no secret of her
liking for him. He was too far above her
for her to be ashamed of the feeling. She
would as soon have thought of blushing
over ber love for a favorite poet or cele
brated painter. She could worship thi
"bright, particular star" without any ul
terior intention.
It was one o'clock the fashionable time
for calling in India when she heard
voice in the adjoining room, and pres
ently the curtain wii lifted, and Mrs.
Knox came in.
"Do you think you are well enough to
see any one?" she asked, doubtfully.
"Oh, yes," answered Jane, eagerly, but
her countenani-e fell as she saw the vta
itor who followed swiftly on her words
was Sergeant I.ynn.
"You did not expect me?" said the
young man, quickly, his wit sharpened
by jealousy and pain.
"It it was very good of you to come."
"Of course 1 came directly I heard of
the accident. Does it hurt you much?"
pointing to the bandaged arm.
"One doe not generally break a limb
without suffering from it," put In Mrs.
Kuox, tnrtily.
"She did not seem to suffer much last
night."
"Did you ee tue?"
"Yea, I saw you and the Colonel I
thought he was never going; and yon
stood looking at him as though as
though "
The young fellow stopied, at a loss for
words, ami Mrs. Knox looked keenly at
her daughter to see if there was any
meaning in what lie had hinted.
But there was more of scorn than con
fusion expressed in Jane's face; and the
half-formed suspicion that for a moment
made her heart In at with excitement and
hoie was strangled in its birth.
"I will leave you two to fight it out."
Mrs. Knox said, nnd went from the room.
"Jacob, how could you?" flashed out
Jane, as she heard the inner door clow
Is-iiind her mother. "
lint the Sergeant stood erect and un
moved by her anger, which iwrhaps he
took as a confession of guilt.
"You blush now, but yo.i did not think
it w orth while to blush w hen the Colonel's
arm was round your waist," be sneered
in reply.
"lie did it to support me. that my arm
might not pain me as we jolted over the
rough roads."
The blush had faded from her face,
and she ssike hesilstingly, ns though
afraid to say too much; but he was not
slow to sih; her displeasure at the coarse
ness of his allusion, though be would not
immediately give in.
"The roads are good enough," he mut
tered, gruffly.
"We came from I'.rountra." said Jane,
with dignity. "I remember you said
yourself that the road was a disgrace to
the cantonment."
The next moment he was at her fee;
protesting that be had never doubled her;
it was only the cruelly of his Hsitioti that
had tortured him beyond endurance. It
was too hard that any jnck.iiiapes who
could call himself a gentleman might ap
proach her w hen he pleased while be
must stand aside.
Jane found the ajHilogy more distasteful
than the fault it was meant to condone.
"lyft us talk of something else," she
said at last, wearily.
"And you have quite forgiven mef
She nodded her head.
(To be continued.)
Tlie Birds.
At a little fishing village last summer
ou the coast of the Devonshire I was
noticing the tameiiesn of the wa-gnlln
as they flew around the boats, when
they drew to land or sat like so tunny
barn door fowls waiting for any bit of
fish thrown to them.
"Yes," said an old fisherman, "they
are getting; tamer again now, but for a
long time tbey kept aloof. A couple
of city men came down here and began
blazing away at the ixor tame crea
tures, that did not know at first what
it meant, for they had never had a atone
thrown at them In their lives. How
many they would have killed, Just for
fun, aa they nald, I don't know, if we
fishermen hadn't stopped them; for tin;
gulls we consider our friends. We like
to bear their wild cries, ami they lead
us to place where the lish are ahoaling.
But it was a. long time lwfore they be
came tame again."
A woulii-lm sportsman Mopped over
night at a backwoods cabin with a
whole arsenal of gun.. Early In the
morning the farmer was awakened by
a fusillade In the garden.
"I Jumped up," he said, "to see what
was the matter; and mere was the city
chap blazing away at my little roblna
and orioles, to listen, to whose songa I
have often lain awake by the hour. I
Just caught the little fellow by the col
lar and told him that If be fired that
gun again I'd fire him out mighty
quick. He dropped his shooting iron,
and looked at me In amaeement"
Whatsoever career you embrace, pro
pose to yourself an elevated aim and
put In lta service an unaltered con
stancy. It la not in Um power of good man
to refuse making another happy, whara
fe feu both ability and opportunity.
I the Pauper pumpkin
POLLY waa a little pauper. That
means life in a poorhouse, with
Its bare rooms, coarse food and
coarser company.
Granny Smith waa the very oldest
pauper. She had loved and looked after
Polly ever since she was found, a
tiny baby In a basket, on the poor
house steps. When Granny died, H-year-old
I'olly felt very lonely.
All that I'olly knew. Granny Smith
had taught her. She was charged to
keep her face and hands clean, not to
steal or tell a lie, and never to marry a
man who drank. So you see Tolly bad
wise counsel; ami, lietter still, she
meant to heed It
There were plenty of children at the
poorhouse, but I'olly did not seek their
company. They called her "stuck-up"
and "queer" when she refused to Join
In teasing the "limy" Inmates, which
made sport for the others. Yes, I'olly
was queer, or why did she sometimes
push her cup of niUk over to Silly Sam,
who was always spilling Ills?
Mr. Norton, the poorhouse keeper,
was a kindly man, but he had no time
to look after the children In his charge.
He knew I'olly as the "basket baby,"
and Mrs. Norton sometimes pointed her
out to visitors, declaring It a shame that
Mich a pretty, well -behaved child
should lie left to come up there.
In the meantime. I'olly mourned for
granny, and sewed her torn apron with
a darning needle out of the work-box
which was now her own. It was all
granny had to leave, and was a relic
of days when she was not a pauper,
and she talked to the thimble about IL
The work-box was carefully guarded
by Its owner a bard matter but one
day Silly Sam dragged It from Its hid
ing place, and tore a small piece of the
faded silk lining. I'olly resetted It and
cried so hard that Sam was sorry and
offered her two snails. It was while
Polly was trying to repair the damage
that five or six large white seeds fell
from under the torn silk. Could they t
be seeds of some of the flowers that j
bloomed long ago In granny's garden, i
"I'll plant 'em nnd see," said I'olly. I
crawling on hands and knees to cap- j
ture them. "I'll plant 'em outside of ;
the poorhouse grounds, for granny !
wouldn't want her flowers to be pan- j
pers. I'll go to the field where it's thig i
up and nothiu' planted an' bury 'em In I
the far corner. The sun makes flow- j
! ers grow very fast, and there Is such
j lots of It here." slip said, looking well
l pleased. "There's no house here an' I
guess the ground don't belong to any
body. These flower ain't going to be
paupers, anyway."
I'olly knew little about planting
seeds. She made a hole wllh her list,
dropped them In on top of each other,
covered well with dirt, and waited for
sun and rain to do the rest. Many
stolen visits to the corner of the field
were made before I'olly saw any signs
of growth, so when a small, green
stalk apjienred. It was hailed wllh de
light, llow fast It grew!
When the plant In the field bore yl
low blossoms, Polly's heart filled with
pleasure. They were not pretty flow
ers, but they seemed like a part of
granny. When the flowers faded Polly
hoped more would soon follow, but
bloomlng-tlme apjieared to be over. It
was qtiife a while before she discov
ered fuzzy HitJe balls on the stems of
the faded blossoms, and Polly won
dered what It could be.
"They ain't cabbages, an' apples don't
; 7 on the ground," she said, feeling
them gently. "Maybe they're coke
n tits."
But whatever they were they did not
continue to thrive. Bugs ate up the
Vaves, stems withered and died, anil
with them the unknown fruit How
ever, one green globe, twice as large
as the rest, dolled bugs and blight, and
steady Increased In slue. By Septem
ber the globe was as large as a bushel
basket and Its color was not a golden
yellow.
"It's surely gettln' ripe!" cried Polly,
delightedly, on seeing It after a week
of rain had prevented dally visits. "If
I knew w hat It waa! But it ain't a pau
per, anyhow."
She gave Its shining surface a loving
pat an s'je left It, and attracted by the
sutttid of whistling, saw at a distance a
man, who was sitting ou a pile of
stones directly In the homeward path.
In an instant the thought came to her
to ask this man about ber unknown
treasure, If be looked friendly. .Vow
Polly could have hardly fouud a more
kludly man than Mr. Allan, and be
showed his friendliness aa she drew
near, by asking If it wasn't a pretty
bot aun for a little girl without a boa
' net Polly didn't own a bonnet, ao aha
) dog ber feet In the aoft earth, and aald
r-Lrtf?n?G)
aaaaaVMMrV
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she liked the aun because It made
things grow.
"So doe the rain, but we can't stand
too much of It" laughed Mr. Allaa.
"The crops lisik pretty well soaked."
It was now or never with Polly, so
she said:
"My crop Is looking lovely, an' 1 think
It's most ripe."
Mr. Allan looked amused.
"Your crop, hey? What la It pop
corn '!"
"If you would please come and tell
me what It Is," said Polly, earnestly.
"Maybe It's a cokenut but maybe It
alu't."
"Cocoa nut! Don't set your heart on
It for they don't grow round here; but
we'll see," said Mr. Allan, as be rose.
Polly led the way eagerly, iMilntlng
her finger as they ncured the huge ball.
"Bless the child. It's a pumpkin!" ex
claimed Mr. Allan.
"A pun'kln?" repeated Polly, expect
ant. "Is It go.Ml to cat Inside?"
"Don't you know pumpkin pie?" Mr.
Allan asked, looking astonished.
"Not very well," said Polly, humbly.
"We don't have pie."
"Well, people say It's unhealthy, and
I suppose your mother knows what's
best for you. It Isn't ready to pick
yet" be continued, feeling It carefully.
"1 knew this was good ground, and I
told Norton It ought to tiring a bigger
price. Such fancy-sized vegetables
prove it"
"Who owns the Held?" Polly asked
Quickly.
"The town owns It now. It was my
brother's, but be left it to me. I live
out In Kansas, and my wife ami I came
on to settle up affairs. They wanted
more land at the poorhouse, and It was
a good chance to sell."
Mr. Allan's eyes were roving over the
field, and he did not note the changing
expression of Polly's face; but he was
concerned when he did look, and heard
a voice quivering with disappointment
say:
"Then It's a pauper ptin'kin-a poor
bouse pun'kln. after all!"
It was not long before Mr. Allan
learned not only the history of the pau
per pumpkin, but of pauper Polly her
self. His tender heart was touched,
and w hen he parted with Polly to seek
his wife nnd repent the tale, it ended
by proposing, something that shocked
Mrs. Allan.
"We've talked of It often enough
but not a pauper! We don't know how
she might turn out. 1 never did like
paupers."
"No, it's hard to say how she might
turn out; but she'd have a better chance
w ith us. Her eyes are for all the world
like JeKsy's," anil then the subject was
dropped.
A few weeks later Mr. aud Mrs. Al
lan met Mr. Norton at the postolflce,
and they began to question him alsiut
Polly. Mr. Norton knew little more of
her history than they already knew,
but they now learned that Polly was
sick, and Mr. Norton shook his head
over her condition. Mr. and Mrs. Al
lan lost no time In getting to her bed
side. On a couch In the cheerless room
devoted to sickness lay Polly, who
weakly smiled on her visitors. Mr. Al
lan talked to her quietly, promising to
see that, the pumpkin was duly picked,
while Mis. Allan studied her and pat
ted her hand. When the husband and
wife were oulslde, .Mrs. Allan began to
talk very fast.
"I'll make her a warm cloak to travel
In, and we'll start home as soon as
she's lit to go. She's a dear child!"
"We don't know how she'll turn out,"
said Mr. Allan, smiling at her.
"1 guess we can pray for wisdom to
bring her up right, as we did for Jessy,"
replied Mrs. Allan. "The poorhouse is
no place for her, and I want her, so do
sign the papers and get her right
away."
The day that Polly Polly Allan now
left the poorhouse wffs a day long to
be remembered. Not that the fact of
her going away was remarkable, or
that any one felt very sorry except
Silly Sum and some other half-wilted
ones but the time of ber departure
was Thanksgiving Day, and Mr. Allan
gave the poorhouse ople a dinner at
his own expense. And such a dinner!
Turkey and chicken and cranls-rry
sauce, and the pumpkin converted Inlo
many pies, crowned the feast I'olly,
still weak, but very happy, was carried
Into the long dining room toward the
close of the meal. At the sight of her
Silly Sum set up a feeble cheer, and at
tempted to wave hla plo In the air with
poor success, but waa provided with
another piece.
Ho the laat acana in Polly's poorbonae
Ufa waa on of paca and plenty. Tola
j lettire mingled Itself In the drowsy lit
tle prayer uttered on Mrs. Allan'
breast that ul-bt on the train that waa
carrying her lo ber new home In the
far West.
"D-ar I-ord. I thank you very much
for a mother and father. Tell granny
I ain't a jrnuper now. And I do thank
y.tt for making the itin'kiii ' !'!.' that
there was p!e enough for everybody.
Anieti." Waverly Magazine.
Noi I'p with Their itrj.uiati.m.
A cable dispatch from London sayst
All except the most depraved cynic
will grieve to learn of the sad lndh-t-meiit
of tlie St. Bernard digs, which
are supposed to be trained to rescue
belated travelers In tlie Alls. These
noble beasts, which everybody ha
been told jsiwess fidelity more than hu
man, have been amused of treachery
by certain mountaineers. Thus one
traveler writes:
"I was approaching the summit f
Plz Languard In company with a friend
when a lingo St. Bernard met us on a
narrow path. With a very transpar
ent assumption of good feeling toward
us i he brute ran at us and lipped us
over the ledge. Providentially, the
next ledge was near and we fell softly
on the snow. Then file fiendish in
genuity of the brute became ajiparent
Instead of attempting mir rescue, as
the dogs In foolish old legends do, this
great cur busied himself with the lun
cheon basket, which had burst with the
Impact, and ate our cold chicken,
while we, with some deft aljM'iistock
work, at length retrieved our safety.
The sooner these mountain esls are
extinguished the lietter."
Coarseness of the Kollisi-htld.
"The Kothschlld family are really
course jteople," says a lady who has
figured in Parisian society. "By means
of their enormous wealth they have con
trived to get into the best circle, but
they commit offense every now and
again that would not be tolerated
win-re money Is not omnipotent. I
recall a reception several years ago In
Paris, at which I was present In even
ing dress. 1 had met Alphonse Itoths
clilld several times. On this occasion
he shook hands very cordially with m
and at the same time laid his left hand
on my bare shoulder. It were Impos
sible lo conceive of a more offensive
lllnTiy. Baron Kothschlld meant no
evil; ho simply did not know any bet
ter. He ami other members of lit
family are its amiable people as can be
found anywhere, ami the charities they
dispense jirove the real goodness of
their hearts. But any of them Is likely
to make what we would call 'a bad
break' at any time The Incident I
have feinted Is f:ilrly Illustrative of the
coarse streak which, In spite of their
excellence, runs through the whoht
Kothschlld family."-Chicago Ilecord.
Powerful War Undine.
"Americans have twice within th's
generation upset all standards of naval
construction ami warfare," said an En
glish naval officer. "First, your moni
tors changed In a Jiffy all the
naval designs of I-'.nrope, and
later on you have H-rfected a
steel projectile which aocm able to
penetrate any armor that can be car
ried on a ship. The lmt-ton breech load
ing rifie cannon Is 3!i feet long, 17
Inches bore, takes "0(1 pounds of pow
der nt a charge, carries a shot weighing
a ton and can be loaded, aimed and
discharged by the hand of a lady In
less than one minute, so simple Is the
machinery by which it Is operated. It
should always be remembered, how
ever, that tlie effectiveness of these
enormous guns is reduced nearly one
half In an actual battle at sea because
of the movements of the sea, while
the resistance of the armor Is made al
most twice as effective by the saniu
cause." New York Press.
A Historic: t liatean.
The chateau of Ambolse has been
bought from the executors of the
Comte de Paris by the Due d'Aumale,
who Intends making It a home for the
sailors that fought under him in Africa,
after which It will become a state inn
scum like Chantilly. Charles VJH. was
born and died In the chateau; It was
the scene of tlie bloody mai-s.icre fol
lowing the conjuration d'Ambolse In
l.'i'iO; Iconardo da Vinci is burled In
the chapel and Add e Kader was lm
jirisoned there for two years. In ISjh
the chateau was confiscated, but It was
given back to the Comte de I'arls In
1S72 by the national assembly with
the other domain hinds that had be
longed to Louis Philippe. The restora
tion of the chateau was begun twenty
years ago by Vlollet le Due.
It Doesn't Pay.
Tli great Manchester canal, which
makes Manchester a seaport has not
realized the expectations of It origin
ators. It Cost JfTo.KlO.tKIO, un,) jtM I1lt
r-celpt last year were only $1".V"M.
Instead of Injuring It 1ms benefited
Liverpool, that city having secured
lower rales by railway, w hile Manches
ter Is obliged to submit to a heavy In--crease
of taxation to meet the Interest
on the debt It has Incurred In construct.
Ing the canal.
MlTillalu!
A droll match at billiards was played'
recently at one, of the West Km! dnh
One player was attired In a full suit
or armor, ana wore on his hands ten
Berlin-wool gloves. The other wore
boxing gloves. The gome was one
thousand iij, each nlaver irlvl nu f lia
other nine hundred and eighty. The
man witn me mittens won.
Vesuvius I (Growing.
It Is said that Vesuvius Is l.V) feet
higher thau It was a few months ago.
Ijind and the Improvements upon it
constitute the Bret and moat Important
Itein of our national wealth.
How a defeated candidate for offica
must grumble to bta wifal