Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905, August 09, 1900, Image 3

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5 By HALL CAINE. iUri' )
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
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
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
The woman was Dm Kllley the slut,
the trollop, the trull, the slattern and
the drab of the Island.
The man was Stephen Orry.
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'
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
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
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.
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-
"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
"The mean temperature today,
chirped the Fan "Eared Idoit," Is Just
huuui us mean as l ever relt.
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
(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.