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About Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 9, 1900)
1 T5he BotdmaLt a .... j Cwtlwii C 5 By HALL CAINE. iUri' ) CHAPTER IV. Hardly naa tne governor got back lo hit house when his boys, his men, and the maids returned from Ramsey. Very full they all were of the doings of the day, and Adam, who never asked that son nor servant of his should abridge the How of talk for his presence, sat with bis face to the Ore and smoked. dozed, dreamt or thought, and left his people to gossip on. What chance had brought the poor man to his door that night? An Icelander, dumb for all uses of speech, who had lain In the chains of some tyrant captain a lone man, a eaman without wife or child of his own, and a fugitive, a runaway, a hunt ea dog In this one! What angel of pleading bad been that very night busy 'n his own memory with the story of tls similar sufferings? All at once his ear was arrested by what was being said behind him. The talk was of a sailor who had passed through the town, and of the bluejack ets who were In pursuit of him. He had stolen something. No, he had murdered somebody. Anyway, there was a warrant for his arrest, tor the high bailiff had rawo It. An Ill-looking fellow, but he would be caught yel, thank goodness. In God's good time. The governor twisted about, and asked what the sailor was like, and his boys answered him that he was a forelgneerlng sort of a man In a skin cap and long stockings, and bigger by half a head than BlIly-by-Nlte. Just then there was a tramp of feet on the gravel outside and a loud lap the door. Four men entered. They were the bluejackets. The foreign sea man that they were in search of hud been seen creeping up iialiuie, and turning down towards league. Had he been there? At that one of the boys Baying that his father had been at home all even ing, turned to the governor and repeat ed the question. But the good Adam had twisted back to the fire, and with the shank of his pipe hanging loosely from his lips, was now snoring heavily. "His excellency Is asleep," said the bluejacket. No, no; that could not be, for he had been talking as they entered. "Father," cried the lad, and pushed him. Then the governor opened his eyes, and yawned heavily. The bluejacket, cap In hand, told his story again, and the good Adam seemed to struggle hard In the effort to grasp It through the mists of sleep. At length he said: ''What has the man done?" "Deserted his ship, your excellency." "Nothing else no crime?" "Nothing else, your excellency, Has tie been here?" i "No;" said the governor. And at that the weary man shut his eyes again and began to breathe most audibly. ' But when the bluejackets, tk Ing counsel together concluded that somewhere thereabouts the man must iiurely be, and decided to sleep the night in the stable loft, that Ihey might cour the country In the morning, the governor awoke suddenly, saying he had no bed lo offer them, but they might sleep on the be'njh of t he kitchen. An hour later, when all Lague was asleep, Adam rose from his bed, took a. dark lantern and went back to the stable loft, aroused the Icelander and motioned him to follow. They crossed the paved courtyard and came In front of the window. Adam pointed, and the man looked In. The four bluejackets were lying on the benches drawn up around the fire, and the dull glow of the slumbering peat was on their faces. They were asleep. At that sight the man's eyes flashed, his mouth set hard, the muscles of. his cheeks con traded, and with a hoarse cry In his throat, he fumbled the haft of the sea man's knife that hung in his belt and made one step forward. But Adam, laying hold of his arm, looked Into his eyes steadfastly, and In the light of the lantern their wild glance fell before him. At the next in stant the man was gone. The night was now far spent. In the town the fort were silent, the streets quiet, the market place vacant, and on In shame of his brutal blow, as well as fear of his wife's threat, he had stowed away In the hold of an English ship that sailed the same night. Two days later famine had brought him out of his hiding place, and he had been compelled to work before the mast. In ten more days he had signed articles as able seaman at the first English port of call. Then had followed punishments for sloth, punishments for Ignorance, and punishments for not knowing the high-flavored language of his boatswain After that had come bickerings, threats, scowls, oaths, and open ruptures with this chief of petty tyrants, ending with the blow of a marlln spike over the big Icelander's crown, and the little boatswain rolling headlong overboard. Then had followed twenty-eight days spent in Irons, riveted to the ship's side on the under deck, with bread and water diet every second day and noth ing between. Finally, by the secret good fellowship of a shipmate with some bowels of compassion, escape had come after starvation, as starvation had come after slavery, and Stephen had swam ashore while his ship lay at an chor In Ramsey bay. What occurred thereaner at the house whereto he had drifted no one could rightly tell. He continued to live there with the trull who kept It. She had been the Illegitimate child of an insolv ent English debtor and the daughter of a neighboring vicar, had been Ignored by her father, put out to nurse by her mother, bred In Ignorance, reared In Impurity .and had grown Into a buxom hussy. J3y what arts, what hints, what appeals what allurements, thlr trollop got possession Oi Stephen Orry, it Is not har dto guess. First, he was a hunted man, and only one who dare do anything dare open doors to him. Next, he was a foreigner, dumb for speech, and deaf for scandal, and therefore unable to learn ore than his eyes could tell him of the woman who had given him shelter. Then the big Icelander was a handsome fellow, and the veriest drab that ever trailed a petticoat knows how to hide her slat ternly habits while she Is hankering after a fine-grown man. So the end of many conspiring circumstances was that after much gossip In many cor ners, many Jeers, and some tossing of female heads, the vicar of the parish, Parson Oell, called one day at the hout in Port-y-Vullin, and on the following Sunday morning, at church, little Hob ble Christian, the clerk and sexton, read out the askings for the marriage of Lisa Kllley, spinster, of the parish of Maughold, and Stephen Orry, bachelor, out of Iceland. W'hut a wedding it was that came three weeks later! Liza wore a gay new gown that had been lent her by a neighbor, Bella Coobragh, a girl who had meant to be married in It herself the year before, but had not fully car ried out her moral Intention and had since borne a child. Wearing such bor rowed plumes and a brazen smile of de fiance, Liza strutted up to the com munion rail, looking Impudently Into the mens' faces, and saucily Into the women's for the church was thronged with an odorous mob that kept up the Jabbering of frogs at spawn and Ste phen' Orry slouched after her In his blowzy garments with a downward, shamefaced, nervous look that his hulky manners could not conceal. Then what a wedding feast It waa that fol lowed! The little cabin In Port-y-Vul-lin reeked and smoked with men and women, and ran out on to the sand and pebbles of the beach, for the time of year was spring and the day was warm and clear. Liza's old lovers were there In troops. With a keg of rum over his shoulder, Nary Crowe, the Innkeeper, had come down from the "Hibernian" to give her Joy, and Cleave Klnley, the butcher, had brought up half a lamb from Ballaglass, and Matt Mylechreest, the net maker a venal old skinflint had charged his big snuff horn to the brim for the many noses of the guests. On the table, the form, the three-legged stool, the bed and the hearth, they sat together cheek by Jowl, their hats hung on the roof rafters, their plates perched on their knees. And loud was their laughter and du- the hilltop the fires had smouldered I blous their talk. Old Thurstan Coo- down. By daybreak next morning the bluejackets had gone back empty to Itamsey, and by sunrise the English brig had aalled out of the bay. Two beautiful creeks He to the south of Itamsey and north of Maughold head. One Is called Lague, the other Fort-y-Vullln. ' On the short of Port-y-Vullln there I a hut built of peat and thatched with broom dark, damp, bog gy and ruinous, a ditch where the ten ant Is allowed to alt rent free. The tun stood high when a woman, coming out of this place, found a man sleeping In a broken-ribbed boat that lay side down on the beach. She awakened him and asked blm Into her hut. He rose to hi feet and followed her. Iat night ha had been turned out of the beat house In trie Island; this morning he waa about to be received Into the wont. The woman was Dm Kllley the slut, the trollop, the trull, the slattern and the drab of the Island. The man was Stephen Orry. CHAPTBR V. LITTLE BUNLOCKS. Om month only Bad then paawd Cine th night of Stephen Orry! night from Iceland, and the tory of hla for- Ibjm la th uautlflM M quickly toM. t bragh led off on the advantages of marriage, saying It was mlddlln' plain that gels nowadays must be wedded when they were babies In arms, for bye chllders were common, and a goi's father didn't care in a general way to look like a fool; but Nary Crowe saw no harm In a bit of sweetheartln', and Cleave Klnley said no, of course, not If a man wasn't puttln' notions Into a gel's head ,and Matt Mylechreest, for his part, thought the gels were amazln' like the ghosts, for they got Into every skeleton closet about the house, "But, then," said Matt, "I'm an ould bachelor, as the sayln' Is, and don't know nothln'." "Ha, ha, ha, of course not," laughed the other; and then there was a toate of a toast to Lisa's future In Nary' rum. "Drop It," aald Lisa, a Nary, lifting hi cup, leaned over to whisper. "So I will, but It'll be Into your ear, woman," (aid Nary. "Bo here'a to the king that' comln'." By thl time Stephen had slipped out of the noisome place, and wa ram bling on tli quiet shore alone, with bead bent, cheek ashy pale, eyes fixed and hla brawny hand thrust deep Into hla pocket. At lat, through th dene within Um bouse, Bella Coo bragh noted Stephen' absence, and "Where' your man?" she aald to Lira, with a tantalising light in her eyes. "Maybe where your Is, Bella," said Lisa, with a toss of the head; "near enough, perhaps, but not visible to the naked eye." The effect of going to church on Liza Kllley were what they often are to a woman of base nature. With a man to work for her she became more Idle than before, and with nothing to fear from scandal more reckless and sluttish. Having hidden her nakedness In the gown of marriage, she lost the last rag of womanly shame. The effects on Stephen Orry were the deepening of his sloth ,hls gloom and his helplessness. What purpose in life he ever had was paralyzed. On his first coming to the Island he had sailed to the mackerel fishing In the boats of Kane Wade a shrewd Manx man, who found the big, dumb Ice lander a skillful fisherman. Now he neglected his work .lost self-reliance, and lay about for hours, neither think ing nor feeling, but with a look of sheer stupidity. And so the two sat together In their ditch, sinking day by day deeper and yet deeper Into the mire of Idleness, moroseness, and mu tual loathing. Nevertheless, they had cheerful hours together. The "king" of Nary's toast soon came. A child was born a bonny, sunny boy as ever yet drew breath, but Liza looked upon It as a check to her free- dom, a drain on her energy, something helpless and looking to her for succor. So the unnatural mother neglected It, and Stephen, who was reminded by Its coming that Rachel had been about to give birth to a child, turned his heart from It and Ignored It. j nus tnree eplrlt-breaklng years dragged on, and Stephen Orry. grew woe-begone and stone-eyed. Of old he had been slothful and spiritless, in deed, but not a base man. Now his whole nature was all but gone to the gutter. He had once been a truth- teller, but living with a woman who assumed that he must be a liar, he had ended by becoming one. He had no company save her company, for his slow wit had found It hard to learn the English tongue, and she alone could rightly follow him; he had no desires save the petty ones of dally food and drink; he had no purpose save the degrading purpose of dffeat Ing the nightly wanderings of his wife Thus without any human eye upon him In the dark way he was going, Stephen Orry had grown coarse and base. Hut the end was not yet, of all this man was to be and know. One night, after spending the day on the sea with the lines for cod, the year deepening to winter, the aid muggy and cold, he- went away home, hungry and wet and cold, leaving his mates at the door of the 'Plough," where there was good company within and cheer of a busy Are! Home! On reaching Port-y-Vul !in he found the dor open, the hearth cold, the floor in a puddle from the driving rain, not a bite or sup In the cupboard, and his wife lying drunk across the bed, with the child In Its grimy blueness creeping and crying about her head. It was the beginning of the end. Once again he fumbled the haft of hie seaman's knife, and then by a quick Impulse he plucked up the child In his arms. "Now Ood be praised for your poor face," he said, and while he dried the child's pitiful eyes, the hot drops start ed to his own. He lit the fire, he cooked a cod he had brought home with him, he ate himself and fed the little one. Then he sat before the hearth with the child at his breast, as any mother might do, for at length It had come to him to know that, if It was not to be lost and worse than orphaned, he must henreforth be father and mother both to It. And when the little eyes, wet no longer, but laughing like sunshine into the big seared face above them, strug gled In vain with sleep, he wrapped the child in his ragged guernsey and put It to He like a bundle where the fire could warm It. Then all being done he sat again, and leaning his elbows on his knee covered his ears with his hands, so that they might shut out the sound of the womans heavy breath-ins. It was on that night, for the first time since he (led from Iceland, that ht saw the full depth of his offence. Of fence? Crime It was, and that of the blackest; and In the terror of his lone liness he trembled lit the thought that some day his horrible dumb secret would become known, that something wouia nappen 10 ten it that ne wa married already when he married the woman who lay behind him. At that he saw how low he had fall en from her who once had been so pure and true beside him, and had loved him and given up father, and home, and fame for him, to this trull, who now diagged him through the slush, and trod on him and hated him. Then the bitter thought came that what she had suffered for him who had given him everything, he could never repay by one kind word or Uok. Lost she was to him forever and ever, and parted from him by a yet wider gulf than tOO mile of sea. Such was the agony of hi shame, and through It all the snore of the sleeping woman went like Iron through his head, so that at last he wrapped his arms about It and aobbed out to the dead Are at hi feet, "Rachel! Rachel! Rachel!" All at once he became conscious that the heavy breathing had ceased, fhat the house waa silent, that something had touched him on th shoulder, and that a gaunt shadow stood beside him. It wa th woman, who at the sound of hi vole had arisen from her drunk en aleep, and no wgaaped: "Who la Rachel r At that word bia Moot ran cold, and shivering In his clothes, he lower at the hearth, neither answering her nor looking up. Then with eyes of hate she crleri again: "Who Is Rachel?" But the only voice that answered her was the voice that rang within him "I'm a los tman, God help me." "Who Is Rachel?" the woman cried once more, and the sound of that name from her lips, hardening it, brutalizing it .befouling It, was the most awful thing by which his soul bad yet been shaken out of Its stupor. "Who is she. I say? Answer me," she cried In raging voice; but he crouched there still, with his haggard face and misty eyes turned down. Then she laid her hand on his shoul der and shook him, and cried bitterly. "Who is she, this light o' love this baggage?" At that he stiffened himself up, shud dered from head to foot, flung her from him and answered in a terrible voice: ' IU...I.BU "Woman, she Is my wife!" That word, like a thunderbolt, left a heavy silence behind it. Liza stood looking In terror at Stephen's face, un able to utter a cry. But next day she went to Parson Geli and told him all. She got small comfort. Parson Gell had himself had two wives ;the first had deserted him, and after an interval of six years, in which he had not heard from her, he had married the second. So to Liza he said: "He may have sinned against the law, but what proof have you? None." Then Bhe went to the deemster at Ramsey, it was Deemster Lace a bachelor much given to secret gallan tries. She got as little cheer from this source, yet she came away with one drop of solace fermenting In the bitter ness of her heart. "Tut, woman. It's more common than you tlhnk for. And Where's the harm? Och! It's happened to some of the best that's going. Now, If he'd beaten you, or struck you" and the good man rais ed both hands and shook his head. On her way home she called at the house of Kane Wade, sat down with old Bridget, shed some crocodile tears, vowed she daren't have tould it on no account to no. other morthal sowl, but would the heart of woman belave It? her man had a wife In his own coun thry! Bridget, who had herself had four husbands, lifted her hands in horror, and next day when Stephen Orry went down to the boats Kane Wade, who had newly turned Methodist, was there already, and told him whittling a stick as he spoke that the fishing was wonderful lean living gettln', and If he didn't shorten hands it would be goin' begging on the houses they'd all be, sarten sure. Stephen took the hint In silence, and went oft home. Liza saw him coming, watched him Ijrom the door, and stud ied Hils hard set face with a grim smile on her own. Next day Stephen went off to Matt Mylechreest, the net maker, but Matt shook his head, saying the Manxmen had struck against foreign men all over the island, and would not work with them. The day after that Stephen tried Nary Crowe, the Innkeeper, but Nary sal-i !, course It wasn't himself that was partlc'Iar, only his customers were gettln' nice extraordinary about a man s moral character. As a last hope Stephen went up to j Cleave Klnley, who had land, and ask ed for a croft of five acres, that ran down to the beach of Port-y-Vullln. 'Nothing easier," said Klnley, "but I must have six pounds for it, begin ning half-quarter day." The rent was high-, but Stephen agreed to It, and promised to go again the following day to seal his bargain. Stephen was prompt to his engage ment, but Klnley had gone on the mountains after some sheep. Stephen waited, and four hours later Klnley returned, looking abashed but dogged and saying that he must have good security or a year's rent down. Stephen went back home with his head deep In his breast. Again the woman saw him coming, again she studied his face, and again she laughed In her heart. He will lift his hand to nit," she thought, "and" then we shall see." Hut he seemed to read her purpose, and determined to defeat it. She might starve him, herself, and their child, but the revenge she had set her mind upon she hould not have. Yet to live with her and to contain himself at eveiy brutal act or bestial word was more than he could trust himself to do, and he determined to fly away. Let it be anywhere any where, If only out of the torture of her presence. One place was like an other In Man, for go where he would to any corner 6f the Island, there she would surely follow him. Old Thurstan Coohrag, of Ballacreg gan, gave him work at draining a flooded meadow. It was slavery thai no other Christian man would do, but Tor a month Stephen Orry worked up tc his waist In water, and lived on barley bread and porridge. At the end of hit Job he had six and thirty shilling saved, and with this money In hit pocket and the child In his arms, he hurried down to the harbor at Ram sey, where an Irish packet lay ready to sail. Could he have a passage to Ireland! Certainly he could, but where was hli license? Stephen Orry had never heard until then that before a man could leave th Isle of Man he must hold a license pep milting him to do so. "Go to the : high bailiff,' said th AN EXPENSIVE LUNCHEON. Americans of the "Struck-Ile" and "Newly Rich" families are generally accounted the most lavishly extrava gant entertainers in the world, but it Is safe to assert that not even the newest and richest of our millionaires ever gave a luncheon that figured out something like $10,000,000 a head. That was reserved for so ancient, honorable and conservative a body as London's Worshipful Company of Gird lers and there were, moreover, seventy-five heads to be taken into account. This is how It happehed: Two hun dred and sixty-six yelars ago a Mr. Rob ert Bell, at that tifrne Master of the Girdlers, ordered from the East India company a carpet, which came to the then unheard of price of 150. Somehow or other the bill was never paid. Quite recently the present Master of the Girdlers, the lord mayor, discovered the debt. He made a little calculation of what the bill came to with compound Inter est ,and waa horrified to find it amount ed to no less than 157,000,000. Not wish ing to shirk hi obligations, the Girdlers suggested a lunch as a way of squar ing matters, and their creditors accept ed the suggestion and the feast. i The aforesaid creditors were the sec retary of state for India ad members of the council of India, and the lunch eon settled a debt for a sum sufficient to run the whole British government for a year and a half. Let London throw no stone hereafter at America's extravagant feasts. Without attempting to rival that rec ord feast of extravagance, a certain New York millionaire certainly deserves the palm for fantastic entertaining by virtue of a luncheon given last spring. The first course was hard-boiled eggs, but the eggs had first been blown and then filled with delicious frozen clear soup. Muffins, with a beautifully cook ed timbale Inclosed lit each, formed the next course of this weird banquet. Po tatoes baked in their Jackets then ap peared, and each was found to contain a dellcateS- roasted snipe; and so on to the end of this remarkable luncheon, every course of which hid something new and entirely different to its ap parent character. The cost of this meal came to the modest sum of $2,000. An English explorer who has recent ly returned from the Philippines, where he passed some months with Agolnal do's followers, speaks of a native ban quet which lasted four hours, at which the principal course was a dlah of water beetles, cooked en brochette that ie, larded on a spit. For his share In this he gave one of the chiefs a gun and other goods worth over 135. But he says be grudged much less paying a nugget of gold worth over 150 for a dish of roast bear meat at an Indian village In Alaska, when caught and al most starved by an early winter snow storm. Last winter a Polish prince who Hvea In a splendid house on the avenue Boi de Boulogne, Paris, gave his friends a dinner with a moral to It. He had bean set down as a miser because he never entertained, and fifty of his friend were astonished by invitation to this function. They went and sat down to a magnificent feast in a huge room, one end of which wa covered by great screen of white silk. Oysters were served on beds of pow dered Ice, when suddenly the electric lamps died away, and on a screen flash ed out a riving picture of women stand ing shivering knee-deep in freeilng wa ter, picking oysters from the rock. With the fish course a smack was seen pitching so heavily that the guests cried in terror, "Oh, they will be drowned!" Men and women next appeared work ing In the vineyards on a wet, misty day, ankle-deep in gray slush. With every magnificent course fresh scenes of misery passed in silence before the saddened guests. The prince had re venged himself for their cruel remarks, but at a cost of over $20,000. Considering that in the opinion of the greatest chefs the legitimate cost of a dinner cannot exceed $100 a head the contract price for the great feast given to Admiral Dewey on his return to New York last fall and that It Is said that a man can keep strong and healthy for a week on three pounds of meat, one pound of fat, two quartern loaves, an ounce of salt, and five pints of milk at a cost of less than $1.60 an axjtravagance which will swallow a fortune at a gulp seems almost a crime. There are no longer any dairy maids; probably because women find it difficult to master analytical chesistry. TARANTULA AND A TOAD FIGHT. t Fort Worth. Tex, (Special.) The tar antula and the horned toad live in the fame climate. They are usually on good terms, but onco in a while trou ble comes between them, and then there Is a duel to the death. A wit ness to a recent fight between these rare animals describes the unusual sight vividly, thus: "In the early summer, while herding a bunch of cattle In the northern Pan Handle of Texas, I was sitting on my pony about as indolent as could be, when a scent of formis acid was whiff ed on the wind to me. A few feet away was a large bed of ants, In which horned toad sat busily engaged at a meal of the ant people. The toad paid but little attention to the attacks made upon him, but ate away as though he had been with Dr. Tanner on a forty day fast and had Just arrived at Del- monlco's. "Presently a large, brown tarantula came leaping toward the ant bed, as though frightened. He halted a mo ment by the toad. Each looked t the other as though some apology should be made. The toad was the first to take offence and demand a reckoning. He ran at the tarantula with open mouth. The great spider leaped Into the air about a foot and descended upon the toad's head, biting him over the eye. A strange little cry .of pain came from the horny duelist. The bat tle was on in earnest. "The bite made the toad sick, and foi an instant he halted, as if he wai dazed. A little distance from the anl bed a small tongue cactus was grow nig The toad ran to it alid began sucking the Juice from a wound made In th thick leaf. Then he returned to th conflict with renewed energy. The tar antula lost a limb In the onset. "A third time was the duel renewed. The tarantula lost another limb. Beadj drops of a viscid liquid stood on the tips of the toad's horns. The leaps Into the air were not repeated by- the tarantula, but whether it was on ac count of the loss of limbs or the poison- tipped horns of the toad can never be known. Each stood facing the other some seconds, as though seeking an ad vantage. During the armistice the ant set about Inflicting a few wound on the flat stomach of the tarantula and the toad. Neither seemed to care for the bites of the ants, but eyed each other with a flercenes smore than hu man. In an unguarded moment th tarantula leaped forward and Inflicted a wound on the lip of the toad. "The struggle ccsitinued. Half of the legs were cut from the body of the tarantula. The poor cripple seemed lost, but somehow he closed in on the toad and seized its under Hp and killed him." "The mean temperature today, chirped the Fan "Eared Idoit," Is Just huuui us mean as l ever relt. TARTAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS. captain of the packet; and to the high bailiff Stephen Orry went. "I come for a license to go away k Ireland," he said. "Very good. But where Is your wife? aald the hlfh bailiff. "Are you leuvinf her behind you to be a burden on thi parish?" (To be continued.) Among the Klrghese the practice of polygamy obtains. Generally the eldest brother of a family has more than one wife. The first wife Is mlHtress of the household and is called balblche. To her are subject not only her husband's other wives, but also all the other fe males of the family, The head of a household will often send a portion of his herds several hundred miles awav under the carp of u,i . . . ... - icmuuiin come ana lane as nro.ani, -t hi. wir. o,hiio ho t,imi .,ni .itk- presents al When the prescribed period of be trothal Is at an end, the bridegroom, dressed and mounted at his best, goes with his friends to the aul or village of the bride, where the tent has been prepared for his reception. Throughout the ceremonies of be trothal the bride's brother has the right of pilfering from the bridegroom what eer he pleases; but now the bride's remain with his other wives about the grazing ground or go and encamp some where by himself. In winter the fam ily generally comes tosether again. The manifold circumstances connect ed with marriage among the Klrghese are somewhat formidable and involve the payment of a kalim, besides the giving of various piesents. The affaii Is arranged as to Its preliminaries by matchmakers, and the bridegroom after betrothal has sometime to wait for a year or more until he can bring the re maining portion of the kallm. If dur ing this period the betrothed girl should die, her parents are bound to give In stead her nex,t rlster, or In default re turn the kallm and also pay a fine of one or two horses and robes or furs. Bo also It It If the girl should refuse to marry, which ah may do on ac count of th suitor's III health, or hla poverty, or, In soma localities, har par- most everyhthlng he has-hls coat, hla hat, girdle, horse and saddle. Baying each one that they are for the education of the bride a seizure that is afterward repaid by the relations of the bride groom on the visit to their aul of th relation of the bride. When Sir Frederick Carrlngtoa waa In South Africa before with th Been unaland border police a new recruit wanted to JolnHe was questioned with martial-like severity, winding up with the question: "Do you drlnhf" Am there was a syphon of soda and Bataj thlng suspiciously like whisky near It, the would-be recruit conceived th Me) that he had been Invited to partafca. Nevertheless, he answered th eotoaat's) question with a modesf "Mo, tautfe you, air; It's rather too tarty ha OM day for mt." Rachel A straight Mm it 1 dislike. rata m wall la mmamtirf.