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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 17, 1899)
PHANTOM SHIP —OR— The Flying Dutchman. -«T CAPTAIN MAWYAT, CHAPTER I.—(Continued.) “That, Philip, I shall never be. I feel that death claims me; and. oh, my son, were it not for you how I should quit this world rejoicing! I have long been dying, Philip—and long, long have I prayed for death." "And why so, mother?" replied Philip, oiuntiy; ‘‘I’ve done my be.it.” “You have, my child, you have; and may God bless you for it. Often have I seen you curb your fiery temper—re strain yourself when Justified in wrath —to share a mother’s feelings. ’Tit* now some days that even hunger has not persuaded you to disobey your mother. And, Philip, you must have thought me mad or foolish to Insist so long, and yet to give no reason. I’ll speak—again—directly.” The widow turned her head upon the pillow, and remained quiet for some minutes; then, as if revived, she resumed; “I believe I have been mad at times —have I not, Philip? And God knows I have had a secret in my heart enough to drive a wife to frenzy. It has op pressed me day and night, worn my mind, impaired my reason, and now, at last, thank Heaven! It has overcome this mortal frame; the blow Is struck, Philip—I’m sure It Is. I wait but to tell you all—and yet I would not— 'twill turn your brain as it has turned mine, Philip.” “Mother,” replied Philip, earnestly, *'! conjure you let me hear this killing secret. Be Heaven or hell mixed up with it—I fear not. Heaven will not hurt me, and Satan I defy.” ”1 know thy bold, proud spirit, Philip—thy strength of mind. If any one could bear the load of such a dreadful tale, thou couldst. My brain, alas, was far ton weak for it; and I see it is my duty to tell it to thee." The widow paused as her thoughts reverted to that which she had to con fide; for a few minutes the tears rain ed down her hollow cheeks; she then appeared to have summonea resolution and to have regained strength. "Philip, It was of your father I would speak. It is supposed—that he was— drowned—at sea.” Ana was ne not, motnerr rcpnea Philip, with surprise. “Oh, no!" “But he has long beed dead, mother?" “No—yes—and yet—no," said the widow, covering her eyes. Her brain wanders, thought Philip, but he npol'.e again. “Then where is he, mother?” The widow raised herself, and a tremor visibly ran through her whole frame, as she replied: “In living Judgment." The poor woman then sank down again upon the pillow, and covered her head with the bed clothes, as if she would have hid herself fkom her own memory. Philip was so much perplex ed and astounded, that he could make no reply. A silence of some minutes ensued, when, no longer able to bear the agony of suspense, Philip faintly whispered: “The secret, mother, the secret; quick, let mo hear it!” “I can now tell all, Philip,” replied his mother, in a solemn tone of voice. “Hear me, my son. Your father’s dis position was but too like your own. Oh, may his cruel fate be a lesson to you, my dear, dear child! He was a bold, a daring, and, they say, a first rate seaman. He was not born here, but in Amsterdam; but he would not live there because he still adhered to the Catholic religion. The Dutch, you know, Philip, are heretics, according to our creed. It is now seventeen years or more since he sailed for India in his tine snip, tne Amsterdammer, with a valuable cargo. It was his third voy age to India, Philip, and it was to have been, if it had so pleased God, his last, for he had purchased that good ship with only part of h!s earnings, and one more voyage would havo made his fortune. Oh, how often did we talk over what we would do upon hla re turn, and how these plans for the fu ture consoled me at the idea of his absence, for I loved him dearly, Philip —he was always good and kind to me and after he had sailed, how I hoped for his return! The lot of a sailor's wife is not to be envied. Alono and solitary for so many months, watch ing the long wick of the candle, and listening to the bowling of the wind— i foreboding evil and accident-wreck 1 and widowhood. He had been gone about six months, Philip, and there was still a long, dreary year to wait . before I could expect hint back. One night you, my child, were fast asleep; you were my only solace, my comfort tu my loneliness. I bad bten watch- ■ leg over you in your sluiubera; you smiled and half pronounced the name of mother; and at last 1 kissed your uncoaertou* lips, and I knelt and prayed—prayed fur Hod's blessing on you, my child, and upon him too - little thinking, at the time that be was an horribly, so fearfully ctinted " The widow paused fur hrealb. and then resumed. Philip could not speak Ilia ilpe were sundered, end his • yes riveted upon hie tuoth«r, as he devour ed her words "I left you and u»nt downstairs Into Hta* tuuw. ritUlp, »L\u sluts that dreadful night has never been rsopen ed. I eat me down and read for the «lad wag Strong, and when the gale k-l^+++++*++«+-M--M*++4~»~f+++++ blows, & sailor's wife can seldom sleep. It was past midnight, and the rain poured down. I felt unueual fear—I knew not why. I rose from the couch, and dipped my finger In the blessed water, and I crossed myself. A violent gust of wind roared round the house, and alarmed me still more. I had a painful, horrible foreboding; when, of a sudden, the windows and window shutters were blown In, the light was extinguished, and I was left In utter darkness. I screamed with fright; but at last I recovered myself, and was proceeding toward the window that I might reclose It, when whom should I behold, slowly entering at the case ment, but—your father—Philip! Ye3, Philip, It was your father!" "Merciful God!" muttered Philip, In a low tone almost subdued to a whis per. "I knew not what to think—he was In the room; and although the dark ness wgs intense, his form and fea tures were aB clear and as defined as If It were noonday. Fear would have In clined me to recoil from—his loved presence to fly toward him. I remain ed on that spot where I was, choked with agonizing sensations. When ho had entered the room, the windows and shutters closed of themselves, and the candle was relighted—then I thought It was his apparition, and I fainted on the floor. "When I recovered I found myself on the couch, and perceived that a cold —oh, how cold!—and dripping hand was clasped in mine. This reassured me, and I forgot the supernatural signs which accompanied his appear ance. I imagined that he had been un fortunate, and had returned home. I opened my eyes, and beheld my loved husband, and threw myself Into his arms. His clothes were saturated with rain; I felt as if I had embraced Ice— but nothing can check the warmth of woman’s love, Philip. He received my careEBCB, but he caressed not again; he spoke not, but looked thoughtfully and unhappy. ‘William—William,’’cried I; ‘speak, Vanderdecken; speak to your dear Catherine.’ “ 'I will,’ replied he, solemnly, ‘for my time is short.’ “ ‘No, no, you must not go to sea again; you have lost your vessel; but you are safe. Have I not you again?’ “ ‘Alas, no—be not alarmed, but lis ten, for my time is short. I have not lost my vessel, Catherine, but I have lost— Make no reply, but listen. I am not dead, nor yet am I alive. I hover between this world and the world of spirits. Mark me. “ 'For nine weeks did I try to force my passage against the elements round the stormy Cape, but without success; and I swore terribly. For nine weeks more did I carry sail against the ad verse winds and currents, and yet could gain no ground; and then I blasphemed—ay, terribly blasphemed. Yet still I persevered. The crew, worn out with long fatigue, would have had me return to the Table Bay, but I re fused; nay more, I became a murderer —unintentionally, it is true, but still a murderer. The pilot opposed me, and persuaded the men to bind me, and in the excess of my fury, when he took me by the collar, I struck at him; he reeled; and with the sudden lurch of the vessel he fell overboard, and sank. Even this fearful death did not re strain me; and I swore by the frag ment of the Holy Cross, preserved in that relic now hanging round your neck, that 1 would gain my point in defiance of Btorm and seas, of light ning, of Heaven, or of hell, even if I should beat about until the Day of Judgment. “ ’My oath was registered In thun der, and in streams of sulphurous Are. The hurricane burst upon the ship, the canvas flew away in ribbons; moun tains of seas swept over us, and in the center of a deep overhanging cloud, which shrouded all in utter darkness, were written in letters of livid flame, the&e words: Until the Day of Judg ment. *’ ’Listen to me. Catherine, my time Is short. One hope alone remains, and for this I am permitted to come here. Tuko this letter.' He put a sealed paper on the table. ‘Head It, Catherine dear, and try If you can assist me. Head it. and now farewell—iny time la come.* “Again the window and window shutters burst open again the light was extinguished, and the form of my husband was, as It were, wafted In the dark expanse. I started up and fol lowed him with outstretched arms and frantic sereaius as he sailed through the window; my glaring eyes beheld his form borne away like lightning on , the wings «f the wild gale till It was lost as a speck of light, and then It disappeared. Again the windows closed, the light burned, and I waa left alone! “Heaven have merry! My brain' — my brain'I'hillp' —Philip!" shrieked the poor woman, "don’t have me don't—don't - pray don’t!" During these • srlamalion* the frna tire widow had raised aereelf from the bed and. at last, bad fallen Into the arms of her eon. Hh« remained there , some tulnutc* without motion After a time I'hihp felt alarmed at her long gMieeeuce. he laid kw a«oU| due* upon the bed. and as he did ao her head fell back her eyee were turned > the Wt«t.*u V*ndrrde< ken we* m more j CHAPTER IL Philip Vanderdecken, strong as he was In mental courage, was almost paralyzed by the shock when he dis covered that his mother’s spirit had fled; and for some time he remained by the side of the bed. with his eyes fixed upon the corpse, and his mind In a state of vacuity. Gradually he re covered himself; he rose, smoothed down the pillow, the tears trickled down hts manly cheeks. Ha Impressed a solemn kiss upon the pale, white forehead of the departed, and drew the curtains round the bed. "Poor mother!’’ said he, sorrowful ly, as he completed his task, "at length thou hast found rest—but thou hast left thy son a bitter legacy.’’ And as Philip’s thoughts reverted to what had passed, the dreadful narra tive whirled In his Imagination and scathed his brain. He raised his hands to his temples, compressed them with force and tried to collect his thoughts, that he might decide upon what meas ures he should take. Ho felt that he had no time to indulge bis grief. His mother was In peace; but his father —where was ho? He recalled his mother’s words— "One hope alone remained." Then there was hope. His father had laid a paper on the table—could It be there now? Yes, It must be! his mother had not had the courage to take It up. There was hope in that prayer, and It had lain unopened for more than sev enteen years. Philip Vanderdecken resolved that he would examine the fatal chamber— at once he would know the worst. Should ho do it now, or wait till day light?—but the key, where was It? His eyes rested upon an old japanned cab inet in the room; he had never seen his mother open It In his presence; it was the only likely place of conceal ment that he was aware of. Prompt In all his decisions, he took up tha candle and proceeded to examine It. It was not locked; the door swung open, and drawer after drawer was ex amined, but Philip discovered not the object of his search; again and again did he open the drawers, but they were all empty. It occurred to Philip that there might be secret drawers, and ho examined for some time in vain. At last he took out all the drawers, and laid them on the floor, and lifting the cabinet off Its stand he shook it. A rattling sound In one corner told hlin that In all probability the key waa there concealed. He renewed his at tempts to discover how to gain It, but in vain. Daylight now streamed through the easements, and Philip had not desisted from his attempts; at last, wearied out, he went into the adjoining room, threw himself upon his bed, and in a few minutes was in a sleep as sound as that permitted to the wretch a few hours previous to his execution. During his slumbers the neighbors had come in, and had prepared every thing for the widow's interment. They had been careful not to wake the son, for they held as sacred the sleep of those who must wake up to sorrow. Among others, soon after the hour of noon, arrived Mynheer Foots; ho had been informed of the death of the widow, but having a spare hour, he thought he might as well call, as it would raise his charges by another guilder. He first went into the room where the body lay, and from thence he proceeded to the chamber of Philip, and shook him by the shoulder. Philip awoke, and, sitting up, per ceived the doctor standing by him. ‘‘Well, Mynheer Vanderdecken,” commenced the unfeeling little man, ‘‘so it’s all over. I knew it would be so; and recollect you owe me now an other guilder, and you promised faith fully to pay me; altogether, with the potion, it will be three guilders and a half—that is, provided you return my vial.” Philip, who at first waking was con fused, gradually recovered his senses during this address. (To be continued.) Friend* Well Met. When true-hearted men in north and south met and understood each other, there was never real enmity between them. A certain Virginian lived near the field of Mechanlcsville, where Mc Clellan fought one of his severe battles in the summer of 1862. This man went out to the field, after the northern troops had retired from it. and noticed a little fellow lying, wounded. In the hot sun. As he looked pityingly at the boy, the young fellow gained cour age to make a request: “Neighbor, won’t you get me a drink of water? I’m very thirsty.” "Of course, I will." said the man, and he brought the water. The little fellow was encour aged by this, and he asked again: “Won’t you get me taken to the hos pital? I'm badly wounded." “Well, now. my boy,” said the man. ”lf I get you taken rare of. and you are well enough to go home again, are you com ing down here to fight mu and my folks onre more* How about that?” It was a bard test for a wounded prisoner, but the boy stood It. He looked his raptor firmly In the eye. and said: “That I would, my friend.” ”1 tell you.” said the Virginian afterward, “I liked his pluck. I had that boy taken to tbs , hospital, and he had good rare." HU Me*. I.lttle Ihey~“Fader. vat tah a phil anthropist?" Old ttwlndiebaum ~”A philanthropist, mein *ohn, ish a man vot Induce* oder people* to gif avay , delr moolah wit charity.”—New York World * Kk<l Ox UmInO. Kelt her I tried to roavtnre my wife that I couldn't afford a new **nJ*bln , cloak linker—4**« you *•*I kmck*r No. *he netted the argu ment brought ham* to her ft. Lout* •tor. TALMAGE'S SERMON. "ABUSE OF TRUST FUNDS." SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. "Whow Trust Shall lla a IpMu'i Web”—Jab, Chapter VIII. Versa 14 Hank ere and Lawien Are Ulren Borne Cl nod Ad rice. Th« two most skillful architects in ihe world are the bee and the spider. The one puts up a sugar manufactory and the ether builds a slaughter house for flies. On a bright summer morn ing when the sun comes out and shines upon the spider’s web, bedeck ed with dew, the gossamer structure eeetns bright enough for a suspension bridge for aerial beings to cross on. But, alas for the poor fly, which In the latter part of that very day, ventures on it, and is caught and dungeoned and destroyod! The fly was Informed that It was a free bridge, and would cost nothing, but at the other end of the bridge tbe toll paid was its own life. The next day there comes down a strong wind, and away goes the web, and the marauding spider and tbe vic timized fly. So delicate are the silken threads of the spider's web that many thousands of them are put together before they become visible to the hu man eye, and it takes four million of them to make a thread as large as the human hair. Most cruel as well as most Ingenious is the spider. A pris oner in the Bastlle, France, had one so trained that at the sound of the vio lin it every day came for its meal of flies. The author of my text, who was a leading scientist of his day, had no doubt watched the voracious process of this one insect with another, and saw fplder and fly swept down with the same broom, or scattered by the same wind. Alas, that the world has so many designing spiders and victim ized flies! Thero has not been a time when the utter and black Irre sponsibility of many men having tbe financial interests of others In charge, has been more evident than in these iuhi lew yearn. i no uuiiki uyu./ ui banks and disappearance of adminis trators with the funds of large estates, and the disordered accounts of United States officials, have sometimes made a pestilence of crime that solemnizes every thoughtful man and woman, and leads every philanthropist and Chris tian to ask, What shall be done to stay the plague? There Is ever and anon a monsoon of swindle abroad, a ty phoon, a sirocco. I sometimes ask myself If It would not be better for men making wills to bequeath their property directly to the executors and officers of the court, and appoint the widows and orphans a committee to see that the former got all that did not belong to them. The simple fact Is that there are a large number of men sailing yachts and driving fast horses, and members of expensive clubhouses, and controlling country seats, who are not worth a dollar If they return to others their Just rights. Under some sudden reverse they fail, and, with afflicted air, seem to retire from the world, and seem almost ready for mon astic life, when in two or three years they blossom out again, having com promised with their creditors, that Is, paid them nothing but regret; and the only difference between the second chapter of prosperity and the first, is that their pictures are Murillos instead of Kensetts, and their horses go a mile in twenty seconds less than their pre decessors, and instead of one country seat, they have three. I have watched and have noticed that nine out of ten of those who fall, in what Is called high life, have more means after than before the failure, and In many of the cases, failure is only a stratagem to escape the payment of honest debts, and put the world ofT the track while they practice a large swindle. There Is something woefully wrong in the fact that these things are possible. First of all, I charge the blame on careless, indifferent bank directors and boards having In charge great finan cial Institutions. It ought not to be possible for a president or cashier or prominent officer of a banking instl-' tutlon to swindle it year after year without detection. I will undertake to say that If these frauds aro carried on for two or three years without de tection. either the directors are part ners in the Infamy and pocket part of the theft, or they aro guilty of a culpable neglect of duty, for which God will hold them as responsible as he holds the acknowledged defrauders. What right have prominent business men to allow their names to be pub lished as directors In a financial In stitution, so that unsophisticated peo ple are thereby induced to deposit their money In. or buy the script there of. when they, the published directors, are doing nothing for the safety of the InaOtutton? It Is a case of de ception and most reprehensible. Many people with a surplus of money, not needed for Immediate use, although It may be a little further on ludiapen snide, are without friends competeui to advise them, and they are guided solely by the character of the men whoee names are associated with the institution. When the crash came, and with the overthrow of the b«nks went the email earnlnge and limited fortunes of widows and orphans, and the helplessly aged, the directors stool with Idiotic stare, and to the Inquiry of the frmsied depositors and stock holders who had lost their ell, and i ■ the arraignment of an indignant pub lie, had nothing to say escept "We thought It was all right. We did aol haow there was anything wrong I going on. * It was their duty to haow | They stood In a position which delud ed the people with the Idea that they were carefully observant ('ailing themselves directors, they did mot di rest. Thev had oabortualtr e* s»du ing accounts and inspecting the books. No time to do so? Then they had no business to accept the position. It seems to be the pride of some moneyed men to be directors in a great many Institutions, and all they know is whether or not they get their divi dends regularly, and their names are used as decoy ducks to bring others near enough to be made game of. What first of all Is needed is that five hun dred bank directors and insurance company directors resign or attend to tbelr business as directors. The busi ness world will be full of fraud Just as long as fraud Is so easy. When you arrest the president and secretary of a bank for an embezzlement carried on for many years, be sure to havo plenty of sheriffs out the same day to arrest all the directors. They are guilty either of neglect or complicity. ‘‘Oh,” some will say, "better preach the Gospel and let business matters alone.” I reply, if your Gospel does not Inspire common honesty In the dealings of men, the sooner you closo up your Gospel and pitch it into the depths of tho Atlantic ocean the bet tor. An orthodox swindler is worse than n heterodox swindler. The reci tation of all the catechisms and creeds ever written, and partaking of all the communion chalices that ever glitter ed In the churches of Christendom, will never save your soul unless your busi ness character corresponds with your religious profession. Home of the worst scoundrels in America have been members of churches and they got fat on sermons about heaven when they most needed to have the pulpits preach that which would cither bring them to repentance, or thunder them out of the holy communions where their pres ence was a sacrilege and an Infamy. Wo must especially deplore the mis fortunes of banks in various parts of this country in that they damage the ban King insuiuuun, wmcu i» great convenience of the centuries, anil indispensable to commerce, and the ad vance of nations. With one hand It blesses the lender, and with tho other It blesses tho borrower. On their shoulders are tho Interests of private individuals and groat corporations. In them are the great arteries through which run the currents of the nation’s life. They have been the resources of the thousands of financiers in days of business exigency. They stand for ac commodation, for facility, for Individ ual, State, and national relief. At their head, and In their management, there Is as much Interest and moral worth as In any class of men—perhaps more How nefarious, then, the behavior of those who bring disrepute upon this venerable, benignant, and God-honored Institution! We also deplore abuse of trust funds, because the abusers fly In the face of divine goodness which seems deter mined to bless this land. We are hav ing a series of unexampled national harvests. Tho wheat gamblers get bold of the wheat, and the corn gambl ers get hold of the corn. The full tide of God’s mercy toward this land Is put back by those great dykes of dis honest resistance. When Ood provides enough food and clothing to feed and apparel this whole nation like princes, the scrabble of dishonest men to get more than their share, and get It at all hazards, keeps everything shaking with uncertainty, and everybody asking "What next?’’ Every week makes new revelations. How many more bank presidents and bank cashiers havo been speculating with other peo ple’s money, and how many more bank directors are In Imbecile silence, let ting the perfidy go on, the great and patient God only knows! My opinion Is that we have got near the bottom. The wind has been pricked from the great bubble of American speculation. Tho men who thought that the Judg ment day was at least fve thousand years off, found It in 1898 or 1897 or 1896; and this nation has been taught that men must keep their hands out of ether people’s pockets. Great business es built on borrowed capital have been obliterated, and men who had nothing have lost all they had. I believe we ure started on a higher career of pros perity than this land has ever seen, If, and if, and if A missionary in one of the islands of the Pacific preached on dishonesty, and the next morning ho looked out of his window, and he saw his yard full of goods of all kinds. He wou dered, and asked the cause of all this. “Well,” said tho natives, "our gods that we have been worshiping permit us to steal, but, according to what you said yesterday, the God of heaven and earth will not allow thla, so we bring back all these goods, and we ask you to help us in taking them to the places where they belong." If next Sabbath all the ministers In America should preach sermons on the abuse of trust funds, and on the evils of purlolnlug. and the sermons were all blessed of God. and regulations were made that all these things should lie taken to th« city halls. It would not lie long be fore every rlty hall lit America would be crowded froth cellar to cupola. Let me say In the most emphatic manner to all young men. dUhoneety will never pay. An abbot wanted to buy a piece of ground and the owner would nut sell It, but the owner Anal ly consented to let It to him until he could raise one crop, and he abbot sowed acorns, a crop of two hundred years! And I tell you, young man. that the dishonesties which you plant la your bean and life will seem to he very inelgalAcant, hut they win grow up until they will overshadow you with horrible darhaeee, overshadow all time and all eternity. It will not he a crop for two hundred your*, hut a crop for everlasting age*. I hate *l*o * *otd of cuCwfuvi fur *11 who safer from (he matfeaeaaco of other*, sad every ho*eel man. vows, and child do** safer from what sues on in financial scampdom. Society is so bound together that all the misfor tunes which good people suffer In busi ness matters come from the misdeeds of others. Bear up uuder distress, strong in Ood. He will see you through, though your misfortunes should be centupled. Scientists tell us that a column of air forty-five miles In height rests on every man’s head and shoulders. But that Is nothing compared with the pressure that busi ness life has put upon many of you. Ood made up his mind long ago how many or how few dollars it would be best for you to havo. Trust to his ap pointment. The door will soon open to let you out and let you up. What shock of delight for men who for thirty years have been in business anxiety when they shall suddenly awake in everlasting holiday! On the maps of the Arctic regions there are two places whoso names are remarkable, given, I suppose, by some Polar expedition: "Capo Farewell" and “Thank Ood Harbor." At this last the Polaris wintered. In 1871, and tho Tigress in 1873. Some ships have passed tho cape, yet never reached tbe harbor. Hut from what I know of many of you, I have concluded that, though your voyage of life may bo very rough, run into by Icebergs on this side and Icebergs on that, you will in due tlmo reach Cape Farewell, and there bid good by to all annoyances, and soon after drop anchor in tho calm and Im perturbable wnters of "Thank Qod Harbor." “There tho wicked ccaso from troubling, and the weary aro at rest," PARADISE FOR BEARS. Nation's Wards In Ystlowstnna Park Cannot He Harined. Everybody has heard of the bears of Yellowstone park and how It la ono of the sights for travelers to see bruin feed on the refuse of the hotels, says the New York Herald. But tt is only the camper In this sixty square miles of guarded area—tho camper despised by landlords and the railroad corpora tion that creates landlords—who learns "there's such divinity doth hedge the nation's wards that treason can but keep to what it would." The nation's wards share the honors of the park with the famous mud geyser, but tho mud geyser is not peripatetic, and when ono has sufficiently enjoyed its upheaval he can easily turn bis at tention to other marvels of tho region, while bruin is such a wanderer and makes himself so very much at home in everybody’s camp, and seems to enjoy the good things of the larder so much better than the refuse of tho hotels, that the camper is often made to realize that he himself is decidedly not at home, where he would mako short work of burglars, whether on two or four legs. But woe to the man who would protect himself from noc turnal visitors lu this zoological Eden. All humans are warned when they en ter that they must not "fool'' with the animals on pain of arrest, and their flre-armB are either taken from them or securely scaled by government offi cials. If the soldiers may be believed, some Princeton boys ventured last summer to exercise the freedom of the university in these sacred precincts and actually killed a Yellowstone bear. Whether they all fired at once, or whether one of their number killed the bear and his fifteen comrades re fused, after the manner of college boys, to point out the culprit, the soldiers did not say. Howover It was, the en tire number were locked up for sixty days without benefit of clergy. The law permits one to unseal his weapons and even to kill a bear If one’s life is actually endangered. The real dif ficulty seems to be in proving the In tentions of the enemy. It hardly seems feasible for a person to unseal his gun. load and defend himself successfully after he Is once In tho close embrace of bruin. IN THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. -- How Could Ho Know Whitra the Kmperor Wiu>? Her majesty, Tel An, empress of China, eat In her palace In the purple forbidden city, with her brow resting on her thumb and her index finger pushed up through her bang, says the Washington Star. Rousing herself presently from her profound absorp tion, she beckoned to a peanut-colored person plastered up against the yellow silk tapestry. "Swat him," she said, “where Is the emperor?" "Dash your Ignominious slave Into a million atoms, oh, amethyst flower of the Celestial kingdom," he responded, lying flat on his stomach before her, "but your slave wotteth not." “Wot?" she screamed. “No, most purple of our yellowest lilies of the Kankee Tee Kiting, I do not wot where the emperor Is." "And this to me?" she cried. “Most beauteous descendant of the gods, your vile slave speaks hut the truth, though he lies here on his very stomach. He wotteth not where the emperor la." “Slave, dog. runine, wretch, scum of the Yellow river, did I not tell you what to do?" “Truly, most divln« of all the gentler purple peonies of I'ekln, and your slave did It to the queen's Isste. so to speak * "Aha. then he Is dead?" "As a mack erel. oh. yellow anemone of the crystal sea." “Why lt*et thou, knowlag that he Is dead?" "How the dlckena, most marvelous of mandarin matron*, do I know where he Is? I’m no fortune teller.** "Oho. aha," smiled her maj esty. again relapsing to thought; “bring on another.” Was 111 plan* «l Mr, “But why on earth did you Introduce me to your aunt ac Mr Hmrllag? 1x4 you forget that U was Scruggs?” “Cer tainly not, you old goose Hut I know she overheard me rail you 'dar ling' and I wouldn't bavu her think I • as spowaey for all the world,*
