T5he Bondman a
5 By HALL CAINC. "r' 5
CHAPTER nr.
It was In the winter season In that
tern land of the north, when night and
day ao closely commingle that the dark
new seems never to lift. And In the
silence of that long night Rachel lay
In her little hut. sinking rapidly and
much alone. Jason came to her from
time to time. In his great sea stockings
and big gloves, and with the odor of the
brine In his long red hair. By her bed-
aide he would stand for half an hour
In silence, with eyes full of wonder
ment; for life like that of an untamed
colt was In his own warm limbs, and
death was very strange to him. A sud
den hemorrhage brought the end, and
one day darker than the rent, when
Jason hastened home from the boats,
the pain and panting of death were
there before him. His mother's pallid
face lay on her arm, her great dark
eyes were glazed already, she was
breathing hard and every breath was a
spasm. Jason ran for the priest the
same that had named him In his bap
tism. The good old man came hobbling
along, book In hand, and seeing how life
flickered he would have sent for the
Rovernor, but Kachel forbade him. He
read to her, he sang for her In his crazy
cracked voice, he shrived her, and then
all being over, as far as human efforts
could avail, he at himself down on
chest, spread his print handkerchief
over his knee, took out his snuffbox
and waited.
Jasun stood with his back to the
glow of the peat fire, and his face hard
et In the gloom. Never a word came
from him, never a sigh, never a tear.
Only with the strange light In his wild
eyes he looked on and listened.
Rachel stirred, and called to him.
"Are you there, Jason?" she said
feebly, and he stepped to her side.
"Closer," she whispered; and he took
her cold hand In both his hands, and
then her dim eyes knew where to look
for his face.
"Goodbye, my brave lad," she said
"I do not fear to leave you. You are
strong, you are brave, and the world is
kind to them that can fight It. Only
to the weak Is It cruel only to th
weak and the timid only to women
oniy to helpless women Sold Into the
slavery of heartless men."
And then she told him everything
her love, her loyalty, her life. In twen
ty little words she told the story.
"I gave him all all. I took a father's
urse for him. He struck me he left
roe he forgot me with another woman
listen listen closer still still closer,"
he whispered, eagerly, and then she
poke, the words that lie at the heart
of this history.
"You will be a salfor and sail to many
lands. If you should ever meet your
father, remember what your mother
has borne from him. If you should
never meet him, but should meet his
on, remember what your mother has
suffered at the hands of his father.
Can you hear me7 Is my speech too
thick?. Have you understood me?"
Jason's parched throat was choking,
and he did not answer.
"My brave boy, farewell." she said.
'Goodbye," she murmured again, more
faintly, and after that there was a lull
A pause, a sigh, a long-drawn breath,
another sign, and then over his big
brown hands her pallid face fell for
-ward, and the end was come.
For some minutes Jason stood there
till In the same Impassive silence.
Never a tear yet In his great eyes, now
wilder than they were; never a cry
from his dry throat, now surging hot
and athlrst; never a sound In his ears,
ave a dull hum of words like the plash
of a breaker that was coming coming
coming from afar. She was gone who
had been everything to him. She had
sunk like a wave, and the waves of the
ocean were pressing on behind her.
She was lost, and the tides of life were
flowing as before.
The old pastor shuffled to his feet,
mopping- his moist eyes with his red
handkerchief. "Come away, my son."
he said, and tapped Jason on the shoul
der. -Not yet," the lad answered hoarsely.
And then he turned with a dazed look
and said, like one who speaks In his
leep, "My father has killed my moth
er." "No, no, don't say that," said the
firlest.
"Yes, yes," said the lad more louJIy,
-not In a day, or an hour, or a moment,
lut In twenty long years."
"Hush, hush, my son," the old priest
murmured.
Hut Jason did not hear him. "Now
listen" he cried.' "and hear my vow."
And still he held the cold hand In his
hands, and still the ashy face rested
on them.
"I will hunt the world over until I
find that man, and when I have found
him I will him."
What am you saying?" cried the
priest.
Hut Jason went on with an awful sol
emnity. "If he should die, and we
.hould never meet, I will hunt the
Vorld over until I And his son, and
when I have found him I will kill him
for hi fathers sake."
"Bllenre, silencer' cried the priest.
"Bo blp n Ond!" ssll Jason.
"My my son, eengeance Is Ills.
SjVhat M that we should presume
to itr
Jason ward nothing, 'but the frost of
lift! first winter that had bound Aip
fell btart, 4tf nine Mm, Minding him,
choking him, aeemed all at once to
break. He pushed the cold face gently
back on to the pillow, and fell over It
with sobs that shook the bed.
They burled the daughter of the gov
ernor In the acre allotted to the dead
poor In the yard of the cathedral of
Reykjavik. The bells were ringing a
choral peal between matin and morn
ing service. Happy little girls in
bright new gowns, with primrose on
their breasts yellowing their round
shins, went skipping In at the wide
west doorway, chattering as they went
like linnets In spring. It was Easter
Day, nineteen years after Stephen Orry
had fled from Iceland.
Next morning Jason signed articles
on the wharf to sail as seaman before
the mast on an Irish schooner home
ward bound for Belfast, with liberty
to call at Whitehaven In Cumberland,
and Ramsey In the Isle of Man.
CHAPTER IV.
AN ANGEL IN HOMESPUN.
The little island In the middle of the
Irish sea has through many centuries
had its own language and laws, and
Its own Judges and governors. Very,
very long ago it had also its own kings;
and one of the greatest of them was
the Icelandic seadog who bought It with
blood in 1077. More recently it has had
Its own reigning lords, and one of the
least of them was the Scottish noble
man who sold it for gold In 1754. After
that act of truck and trade the English
crown held the right of appointing the
governor general. It chose the eon of
the Scottish nobleman. This was John,
fourth duke of Athol, and he held his
office fifty-five bad years. If the mem
ory of old men can be trusted, he con
trived to keep a swashbuckler court
there, but Its festivities, like his own
dignities, must have been maimed and
lame. He did not care to see too much
of it, and that he might be free to go
where he would he appointed a deputy
governor.
Now when he looked about him for
this deputy he found Just six and twen
ty persons ready to fall at his feetj He
might have had either of the Deem
sters, but he selected neither; he might
have had any of the twenty-four Keys,
but he selected none. It was then that
he heard of a plain farmer In the
north of the Island, who was honored
for his uprightness, beloved for his sim
plicity, and revered for his piety. "The
very man for me," thought the lord of
the swashbucklers, and he straightway
set off to see him.
He found him living like a patriarch
anions his people, surrounded by his
sons, and proud of them that they were
many and strong. His name was Adam
Falrbrother. In his youth he had run
away to sea, been taken prisoner by
the Algerlnes, kept twenty-eight long
months a slave In Barbssry, hsd escaped
and returned home captain of a Ginea
man. This had been all his education
and all his history. He had left the
Island a wild, headstrong, passionate
lad; he had returned to It a sober, pa.
tlent, gentle-hearted.
Adam's house was Lague, a loose,
straggling, featureless and Irresolute
old fabric, on 500 hungry acres of the
rocky headland of Maughold. When
the duke rode up to It Adam himself
was ringing the bell above the door that
summoned his people to dinner. He was
then In middle life, stout, yet flaccid
and alack, with eyes and forehead of
sweetest benevolence, mouth of sweet
est tenderness, and hair already whiten
ing over his ear and temple.
"The face of an angel in homespun,"
thought the duke.
Adam received hi visitor with the
easy courtesy of an equal Srst offering
his hand. The duke uhook hands with
him. He held the stirrup while the
duke alighted, took the horse to the
stable, slackened its girths, and gave
It a feed of oata, talking all the time.
The duke stepped after him and listen,
ed. Then he led the way to the house.
The duke followed. They went into the
living room an oblong kitchen with an
oak table down the middle, and two
row of benches from end to end. The
farming people were trooping In. bring
ing with them the odor of fresh peat
and soli. Itowls of barley broth were
being set in front of the big chair at
the table end. Adam sat In this seat
and motioned the duke to the bench at
his right. The duke sat down. Then
six words of grace and all were In their
places Adam himself, his wife, a
shrewd-faced body; his six sons, big
and shambling, his men, bare-armed
and quiet, his milds, with skirts tucked
up, plump nd noisy, and the swash
buckler duke, amused nd silent, glanc.
Ing down the long lines of the strangest
company with whom he had ever yet
been asked to sit at dinner. Suet pud
ding followed the broth, sheep' head
and potatoes followed the pudding, then
six words of thank and all rose and
trooped away except the duke and Ad
am. That good man had not altered
the habit of hi life by so much as a
plate of cheese for the fact that the
"trd of Mann" had sat at meat with
him. "The maner of a prince," thought
the duke.
They took the armchair at opposite
tide of the Ingle.
"You lok cosy In your retreat, Mr.
Falrbrother," said the duke; "but alnce
your day In Guinea, have you never
dreamed of a position of more power,
and perhap of more profit?"
"AM tot power," answered Adam, "I
have observed that th nam and the
reality rarely go together."
"The experience of a talesman,"
thought the duke.
"As for profit," he continued, "I hi ve
reflect d that money has never yet
since the world began tempted a happy
man."
"The wisdom of a Judge," thought
the duke.
"And as for myself I am a complete
ly happy one.'13
"With more than a Judge' Integrity,"
thought the duke.
At that the duke told the purpose of
his visit.
"And cow," he said, with uplifted
hands, "don't say I've gone far to fare
worse. The post I offer requires but
one qualification In the man who fills
It, yet no one about me possesses the
simple gift. It needs an honest man
and all the better If he' not a fool.
Will you take it?"
"No, laid Adam, short, and blunt.
"The very man," thought the duke.
Six months later the duke had his
way. Adam Falrbrother of Lague was
made governor of Mann (under the duke
himself as governor general) at a sal
ary of five hundred pounds a year.
On the night of Midsummer Day, 1793,
the town of Ramsey held high festival.
The Royal George had dropped anchor
In the bay, and the prince of Wales,
attended by the duke of Athol, Captain
Murray and Captain Cook, had come
ashore to set the foot of an English
prince for the first time on Manx soil.
Before dusk, the royal ship had weigh
ed aenhor again, but when night fell
in the festivities had only begun. Guns
were fired, bands of music passed thro'
the town, and bonfires were lighted on
the top of the Sky hill. The kitchens
of the Inns were crowded, and t he
streets wero thronged with country peo
ple enveloped in dust. In the market
place the girls were romping, the young
men were drinking, the children shout
ing at the top of their voices, the ped
dlers edging their barrows through the
crowd and crying their wares. Over all
the tumult of exuberant voices, the
Bhoutlng, the laughter, the merry
shrieks, the gay banter, the barking
of sheep-dogs, the snarling of mon
grel setters, the streaming and smok
ing of hawkers' torches across a thou
sand faces, there was the steady peal
of the bell of Ballure.
In the midst of It all a trange man
passed through the town. He was of
colossal stature stalwart, straight and
flaxen-haired, wearing a goatskin cap
without brim, a gray woollen shirt open
at the neck and belted with a leathern
strap, breeches of untanned leather,
long, thick stockings,, a second pair up
to his ankles, and no shoes on his feet.
His face tvas pale, his cheek bone?
stood high, and his eyes were like the
eyes of a cormorant. The pretty girls
stopped hrdr chapter to look after
him, but he strode on with long steps,
and the people fell aside for him.
At the door of the Saddle Inn he stood
a moment, but voices came from with
in and he passed on. Going by t he
court house he came to the Plough
tavern, and there he stopped again,
paused a moment, then stepped In.
After a time the children who had fol
lowed at his heels separated, and the
girls who had looked after him began
to dance with arms akimbo, and skirts
held up over their white ankles. He
was forgotten.
An hour later, four mpn, armed with
cutlasses, and carrying ship's Irons,
came hurrying fom the harbor. They
were blue-jackets from the revenue-cutter
lying in the bay, and they were in
pursuit of a seaman who had escaped
from the English brig at anchor out
side. The runaway was a giant and a
foreizner, and could not speak a word
of English or Manx. Had anyone seen
him? Yes, everyone. He had gone
Into the Plough. To the Plough the
bluejackets made their way. The good
woman who kept It, Mother Beatty,
had certainly eeen such a man. "Aw,
yes, the poor craythur, he came, so he
did," but never a word could he speak
to her, and never a word could she
speak to him, ao she gave him a bit of
barley cake, and maybe a drop of
something, and that was all. He was
not in the house, then? "Och, let them
look for themselves." The bluejackets
searched the house, and came out as
they had entered. Then they passed
through every street, looked down ev
ery alley, and went back to their ship
empty-handed.
When they were gone Mother Beatty
came to the door and looked out. At
the next Instant the hlg-llmbed stran
ger stepped from behind her.
"That way," sne wnispered, and she
pointed to a dark alley opposite.
The man watched the direction of her
finger In the rtnrkness, doffed his cap,
and strode away.
The alley led him by many a turn to
the foot of a hill. It was Ballure. Be
hind him lay the town, with the
throngs, the voices, and the bands of
music. To his left was the fort, belch
ing smoke and the roar of cannon. To
his right were the bonfires nn the hill
top, with little dark figures passing be
fore them, and a glow above them em
bracing a third of the sky. In front of
him was the gloom and silence of the
country. He walked nn; a ff-esh cool
ness came to him out df the darkness,
and over him a dull murmur hovered
In the air. He was going towards Kirk
Maughold.
He pass-1 two or three little houses
by the wayside, but most of them were
dark. He came by a tavern, but the
door was shut, and no one answered
when he knocked. At length, by the
turn of a byroad, he saw a light thro'
the trees, and making towards It he
found a long shambling house under a
clump of elms. He was at Lague.
The light he saw was from one win
dow only, and he stepped up to It, A
man wa sitting alone by the hearth,
with th glow of a gentle On on hla
faca a beautiful face, soft and sweet
and tender. It was Adam falrbrother.
The stranger stood for a moment In
the darkness, looking Into the quiet
room. . Then he lapped on the window
pane. On thla evening Governor Falrbrother
was worn with toil and excitement. II
had been Tynwald day, and while sit
ting at St. John's he had been sum
moned to Ramsey to receive the prince
of Wales and the duke of Athol. The
royal party had already landed when
he arrived, but not a word of apology
had he offered for the delayed recep
tion. He had taken the prince to the
top of Sky hill, talking as he went, an
swering many questions and asking not
a few, naming the mountains, running
through the island's history, explaining
the three legs of its coat of arms, glanc
ing at Its ancient customs and giving
a taste of its language. He had been
simple, sincere and natural from first
to last, and when the time had come
for the prince to return to his ship he
had presented his six sons to him
with the quiet dignity of a patriarch,
saying these were his gifts to his king
that was to be. Then on the quay he
ha doffered the prince his hand, hoping
he might see him again before long; for
he was a great lover of a happy face,
and the prince, It was plain to see, was,
like himself, a man of a cheerful spirit.
But when the Royal George had sail
ed out of the bay at the top of the
tide, and the great folk who had held
their breath In awe of so much majesty
were preparing to celebrate the visit
with the blazing of cannon and the
beating of drums, Adam Falrbrother
had silently slipped away. He lived
at Government House, but had left his
three elder boys at Lague, and thought
this a happy chance of spending a night
at home. Only his sons' housekeeper, a
spinster aunt of his own, was there, and
when she had given him a bite of sup
per he had sent' her after the others to
look at the sights of Ramsey. Then he
had drawn up his chair before the fire,
charged his long pipe, purred a song to
himself, begun to smoke, to doze and
to dream.
His dreams that night had been wo
ven with visions of his bad days in the
slave factory at Barbary of his wreck
and capture, of his cruel tortures be
fore his neck was yet bowed to the
yoke of bondage, of the whip, before
he knew the language of his masters
to obey It quickly, of the fetters on his
hands, the weights on his legs, the col
lar about his neck, of the raw flesh
where the Iron had .torn the skin; and
then of the dark wild night of his es
cape, when he and three others, as
luckless and miserable, had run a raft
Into the sea, stripped off their shirts for
a sail, and thrust their naked bodies
together to keep them warm.
Such was the gray silt that came up
to him that night from the deposits of
his memory. Hie Tynwaik, the prince.
the duke, the guns, the music, the bon
fires, were gone; bit by bit he pieced
together the life he had lived in his
youth, and at the thought 'of it, and
that it was now over, he threw back
his head and gave thanks that they
were due.
At that moment he heard a tap on
the wlndowpane, and turning about he
saw a man's haggard face peering in
at him from the darkness. Then he
rose Instantly, and threw open the door
of the porch.
"Come In," he called. I : i
The man entered.
He took one step into the house and
stopped, seemed for a moment puzzled,
dazed, sleepless, and then by a sudden
Impulse stepped quietly forward, pulled
up the sleeve of his shirt and held out
him arm. Around his wrist there was
a circular abrasure where the loop of
a fetter had worn away the skin, leav
ing the naked flesh raw and red.
He had been In Irons.
With a word of welcome the governor
motioned the man to a seat. Some In
articulate sounds the man made and
waved his hand.
He was a foreigner. What was his
craft?
A tiny model of a full-rigged ship
stood on the top of a corner cupboard.
Adam pointed to it, and the man gave
a quick nod of assent.
Ho was a seaman. Of what countryf
"Shetlands?" asked the governor.
The man shood his head.
"Sweden? Norway?"
"Issland." said the man.
He was an Icelander.
Two rude portraits hung on the wall,
one of a fair boy, the other of a woman
In the early bloom of womanhood Ad
am' yung wife and first child. The
governor pointed to the boy, and the
man shook his head.
He hud no family.
The governor pointed to the woman,
and the man hesitated, eeemed about
to assent, nr,d thin, with the look ol
one who tries to banish an unwelcome
thought, shook his head again.
He had no wife? What was his name?
The governor took down from a shelf
a bible covered In green cloth, and
opened at the writing on the fly-leal
between the rt and New Testaments.
The writing r.in: "Adam Fait brother,
son of Jo: Falrbrother, and Mar: hl
wife, was born August the 1 1 th, 17r3
about 6 o'clock In the morning, hall
flood, wind at southwest, and Christen
ed August ISth." To this he pointed
then to himself, and Anally to t h
stranger. An abrupt change came c "el
the Man' manner. He gtew sullen and
gave no sign. But his eyes wandered
Atth a fierce eagerness to the tabi.r
wheie the remains of the governor's
supper wt ie still lying.
Adatt, rtiMV up a chair and motlo ied
th strniiger to sit and eat. The m;m
aV with frlgl'tful voracity, the persplr-
Ration bienklng out In beads over bit
tact. H.vng -len, he grew drow.
f.i'd to roddlng where he sat, In a
inon.enl of i (.covered conscl iunvi
pointed t (hi rM'Pf d head of a l,ors
tli-r hung over the door. He wl-nd
to i fp Ir, tM stable.
The governor lit a lantern nn. lej
the way to the stable loft. There th-t
man stretched himself on the straw,
and soon hi long and measured bieatti
told that he slept.
(To b continued.)
FAME SCENES I INDIA.
In Jeypore, India, "the Rose-Colored
City," crowds of men are suffering In
agony on the streets, their heads on
the pavements, beside heaped-up bags
of rice. In the midst of music and pro
cessions. These men look like skeletons, over
which a swarthy skin has been drawn,
the Joints stad out with horrible prom
iece, the rotulae ad the elbows form
big lumps like knots on a branch, and
the thighs, which have but one bone,
are thinner than the lower part of the
legs, which have two. Some are group
ed together In families, other lie apart,
abandoned; some, with arms outstretch
ed, as on a cross, are in the agony of
death; others still manage to remain
squatted on their haunches, motionless
and stupefied, with fever bright eyes
and long teeth showing from under the
tense Hps. In a corner an old woman,
probably alone in the world, weeps si
lently over some rags.
Such Is the picture drawn by Pierre
Lotl, author and captain in the French
navy, of a scene outside the walls of
beautiful Jeypore, where an Indian
king and English governor resides, and
where famine reigns supreme. Thus he
continues:
When at last, after passing through
these double gates, the city is before
you, It is a surprise and an enchant
ment. Regular streets, nearly a mile in
length, twice as broad as the Paris
boulevards, and fringed by tall palaces
whose facades have the infinite vari
ety of oriental fantasy. Nowhere can
be found a more extravagant superpo
sition of colonnades, of festooned arch,
of tower, balcony and lace-like mirador.
Everything in the one tint of rose, and
the least little molding, the least little
arabesque picked out with a white
flower. . . .
But there are also wanderers of sorry
men, like unto those creatures who
lie outside the gates! Have such as
these dared to enter the rose-colored
city and drag their bones about here?
Yae, and there are more of them than
one would have thought at first glance.
Those who totter along with haggard
eyes are not the only ones on the
sidewalks amid the dealers 'brilliant
wares, are half concealed, horrible bun
dles of rags and skeletons that force the
passerby, to step aside lest he tread
upon them.
These phantoms are peasants from
the surrounding plains. For years past,
when there has been rain, they have
struggled against the destruction of
their land, and long suffering has pre
pared them for this barrenness with
out name. Now it is over. Their beasts
have died for want of fodder, and the
skin has been sold for next to nothing,
As for the fields that were sown, they
are now nothing but steppes of broken,
burnt out ground In which nothing
could germinate. Sold, too, in order to
buy wherewith to eat, are the clothes
with which they used to cover their
nakedness, the silver rings they wore
on arms and ankles.
For years they have not had enough
to cat, and now starvation has come
with a vengeance, the hunger that tir
tures, and very soon the villages were
Hired with the stench of corpses.
To eat! They wanted to eat, these
people, and therefore they have coma to
the city. It seemed to them that some
one would have pity that they would
not be allowed to die, for they had
heard that grain and wheat had been
garnered here as If for a siege, and
that everybody within these walls had
food.
As a matetr of fact, the ox-drawn
car, the trains of camels, are loaded
with sacks of rice and barley, brought
from afar by order of the king, and
stored in granaries, or even piled up
on the sidewalks in fear of the Invad
ing famine that menace the beautiful
rose-colored city from every side. But
WHITE LEADERS OF SAVAGES.
That highly civilised men should de
ert their kind. Join savage races, and
actually flght against their own coun
trymen sounds almost Incredible. Yet
there are many Instances of the kind,
and In nine cases out of ten these de
serters from civilization adopt all the
worst traits of the people they Join, and
often surpass them In cruelty and cun
ning. In Cochin China, where the French
have for nearly twenty years been car
rying on a relentles swarfare against
the bloodthirsty pirates who Infest the
oasts, and especially the great rivers,
the naval and military forces every
iow and aealn discover that the pirate
chiefs whom they succeed in capturing
ire Europeans. One of these men had
deserted from the French army, and
had become one of the principal lieu
tenants of the black flag or pirate force
of the drended chief and mandarin,
Doe Tlch.
In the Poudan the Khalifa had a
large number of Europeans under his
colors, Including the ex-Prussian ser
geant of artillery, Klott, and an ex
Austrian officer, who now bears the
name of Inger; while his principal lieu
tenant, Osman Digna, was the son of
a French shopkeeper, wa born In Rou
en, and baptised In the magnificent ca
thedral of that ancient capital of Nor
mandy. Another case I that of Oliver Psln,
one of the most prominent leader of
the French Commune In 1S71. He was
condemned to death for his participa
tion In the Insurrection, but his sen
tence was subsequently commuted to
one of penal servitude in New Caledo
this has to be bought and gold an
ed to buy.
'Tls true the king haa some of tt i
tributed among the poor who dwwB
his capital; but as for rellerlng mi
wise the peasants who are djrtwc
thousands In the surrounding;
there is not enough to go around.
the sight of such is avoided.
fore, the peasants wander a boat the
streets, hang around the places
people are eating, in the hope
few grains of rice might be throws to
them, until the hour comes for than, to
lay themselves down, no matter 1
on the pavement, to die. . .
At one comer hard by a
probably already full to overflowing
there are a hundred sacks of grain to
be unloaded from the camels that have
brought there there, and three little
skeleton children, from 6 to 10 years of
age, all quite naked, have to be moved
from the place where they are lying
together and where they are la tha
way.
"They are three brothers,' a woman,
standing by explains, "their parent
who brought them here, are dead (of
hunger Is understood), ao they remain,
there; they have nobody to look after
them." And she apparently thinks it
qu!te natural! Yet she doesn't seem
to be a cruel woman!
Great heaven! what sort of people
are those, who would not harm a bird
for anything in the world, and who
yet allow little children to die at thetf
very door? ...
Outside in the streets no one with
muezzin songs calls the starving te
give them food. The newcomes still
roam about, extending their hands and
slapping their empty stomachs if any
one be looking. The others, who hsrvt
lost all hope of succor, fall they list
not where underfoot amid tha crowd
and the horses.
At the crossing of two avenues Ol
the palace and the rose colored tem
ples on one of the places filled Witt
merchants, horsemen and women eiae
In muslins and covered with golds,
rings, a stranger has Just stopped hi,
carriage, close to a sinister lot of
starvelings who no longer care to wan
der about, and he has bent over ta
place pieces of money in their i
hands.
Then suddenly 'tis like the
tion of a whole tribe of
Heads are lifted pbove the rags which
covered their faces, eyes stare,
the skeleton forms rise to their
What, alms! Somebody is giving It
will be possible to get something tr
eat!
The dismal awakening extends; In a
sudden train to other groups lying fur
ther on, hidden behind the wayfarers,
behind piles of stuffs, or bakers' ovens.
And al lof them bestir themselves,rts
and come forward, corpselike masks,
whose shriveled lips expose their teeth
to view, hollow eyes, with eyelashes?
eaten away by flies, with empty sack
pendant from the circles of the thorax,
bundles of bones, which strike against
one another with sounds like clashing
bits of wood. And In a minute the
stranger is surrounded with a frightful
circle, is pressed upon, is clutched by
grimy hands, with huge nails, which,
seek to tear; the poor eyes ask pardon,
look their thanks, supplicate.
And then silently the whole crowd
collapses. One of the specters, footer
Ing In his weakness, had leaned gal nst
his neighboring specter, who fcutteredr
in his turn, and the fall was coausmn
lcated from neighbor to neighbor, with
out a cry, without an effort at
ance all these exhausted bodies)
ing over against the others and fkBing
togcther, like unfortunate marionette.
Ughtnlng struck a piano In Stir Jer
sey, smashing the keys and melting-, tha
wires. It wasn't Jersey lightning, bat
the real stuff.
nia. He succeeded In effecting hla es
cape, made his way to Europe, and
then to Khartoum, and offered his serv
ices to the Mahdi. For many years he
was in high favor with the prophet, bat
finally Incurred his displeasure and was
burled alive.
Both in Egypt and Turkey there are
quite a large number of pashas who
are nothing more nor less than desert
ers from more civilized countries. Thus
Omar Pasha is an Austrian by birth
and served In the Austrian army under
the name of Mikall von Lottas.
Old Cherlf Pasha, who was on numer
ous occasions prime minister of Egypt,
was a son of that French general, De
Helves, who reorganized the army of
Mehemrt All on a European footing,
and embraced Mohammedanism with
the object of increasing his Influence
over his troops. One of the most In
teresting renegades of this kind waa oid
Sefer Pasha, whose real name waa
Count Koscielcky, and who, while hold
ing the rank of lieutenant colonel in
the Prussian army, had the misfortune
to kill In a duel hi commanding; onV
cer. Count Klelst.
This led '.ilm to expatriate Btmaeif.
and, Joining the Turkish army, be dis
tinguished himself during the Crtnmn
war a a member of the staff of tin
Turkish commander-in-chief. Osaar
Pasha. Subsequently the count, wtm
had meanwhile become a convert in
Mohammedanism, under the nans of
Befer Pasha, transferred hla
to Khedive Ismail of Egypt.
A njA.wiMi rxf tk. nM
that without the liberal- use of the rvO.
n m uaposoiDis w bsh dots