HIS WORD OF HONOR.
A Tale of the Blue and the Gray.
BYE
fEPNEP.
rmprr-m
kf r«km
rHAPTEK XI.-iTuai nu«J l
M**se}j lamained behind a» a ph>
a * van It# was too familiar with death
i« br aw*4 by i tut of a mao who had
»wNr» almost a stranger «• him aod
had never puss i writ hia sympathies
*rartely had I ha immediate relatives
laft lha roam, when. to the magi*
*rata # honor, ha tout a seat close be
me give you our warmest
iha*ha ' La said.. »• the friendliest
• wwa Now pray urdrr the rest of
tha d.coar to ha waned I II rail the
waiter at onr*~
thank you.” replied tha old
gentleman. atraiily “I prefer to leave
at cmce. Mr HUatand promised to let
«* return to the city.**
* ** the carriage will be at your
dtspaphi i* half aa hoar at Latest. The
youag couple to whom you will
uiMihtlass toe rrady to yield precedence,
►tart Brst and tiaut then | »hall
•tava tha honor of entertaining you.”
Mr Tbompwoa glanced timidly at
his neighbors cunt-pocket. where ha
ttec the revolver was conceal- ,
did not venture to decline the
*m*r*4 entertainment and yielded to
bis fate. Fortunately ha was not eub
iwrted to too long a trial.
Meanwhile a abort tout touching
►*eoe had orrarrwd in tha sick room,
where Florence amid burning tears, j
•*« her father draw hia last breath.
He |ward away tn sleep without re
gaining ruwriouaaeas Harrison *
ueath broke the chain whi h bound his
daughter.
M wah and irresolute as Florence had
«*w*aad. the tneritable found her calm,
and the consciousness of the peri!
which every moment * delay Increased
for her husband sustained her
strength. Jshe knelt to kiss the dead ,
though expected every minute, had not
yet arrived. The colonel bad no rea
son to conceal the fact that he had
given the young officer a leave of ab
*ea< e or ita purpose. True, dangers
and risks were everyday occurrences
m this war; people regarded them as
matters of course and wasted few
wards over them, but Kola ml was. as
hi* frund expressed it. "the darling
of the regiment."
"I ought to have refused the leave.”
said Colonel Burney, angrily. ”1 fear
the n atter will ■ nd badly. He ought
to have been here long ago. had the
adventure proved successful.”
"We often reronnoiter within the
enemy's lines," one of the officers re
marked. "True. Koland is alone, but
he is less likely to attract attention
on that account. The dangers which
threaten him on way—”
"Are the least.” interrupted the col
onel. "What I fear is treachery with
in the house where he believes hini
>elf ^afe. He would listen to no coun
sel. but I had a presentiment of evil
from the beginning.”
"We won’t anticipate the worst at
present.” remarked another officer.
"Koland may be cbmpelled to make a
circuit or wait for the darkness. Doc
tor Maxwell has not returned, either.”
* Maxwell is at the outposts; there
is no danger in that quarter. I am
Klad that my fears concerning the fe
ver proved groundless. The doctor
M-nt me the most reassuring news.”
"Good evening, gentlemen!” said a
familiar voice at the door. "This sol
(M assemblage is probably on ac
count of the victory of which I beard
<»n my arrival. It will give an unex
pected turn to the campaign.”
"And a fortunate one.” replied the
• olonel. beckoning Maxwell to enter.
■eat • brow *ad bid him fart*well; j
nothing oow held her to Springfield.
llau«k:k William. In • low tone,
gave the old o-rmt the nemurjr or
* Ralph we ik«l! leave the rare of
jonr dead master la your hand* You
will reader him the last services and
remain here aatil the funeral la over.
Then seek aa at the place 1 have de
scribed to you. Earape la But d:ffl
cult now, and the road la not long
See that Edward Harrison la not found
and released before an hour has pass
ed. He la gagged and bound, but
there la ao danger concerning his life.
The laager you ran prevent his being
f.i*rwvered the greater will be our
chance of safety. If you are question
ed. you know no more than the other
servants and had the best intentions
la bringing the aieaaage They can
not help believing you. and in three
days we shall empfet you."
f Terrace had also risen and held out
ter hand to the old man
••farewell till we meet again Ralph!
I «annul even attend my father to the
grave, and mast leave the last offices
to be rendered by the hands of
strangers, but be will forgive me; be
known that my husband s life is at
its Be farewell
The carriage had rolled up to the
terrace outside. They avoided the way
through the ante-room, where all the
servants had assembled William led
his wife througk the drawing-room,
where Mamnell Joined them, after tak
ing a friendly leave of Jfr Thomp
son and anaurtag h.m of his high re
gard The young couple entered
John took the reins from the driv
er’s hands, ordered him to reauiin and
sprang on the bom hiauelf The car
nage dashed off at the horses' ut
Five mlsatf* later. tbr nufl*tr»U'i
far* appeared in the open doorway,
and orb.ad bin the tail hgure of bit
tlaft Moth gazed curiously and Mm
Idly after tbr carriage which waa bo
longer tieibie ooiy a cloud of duat
ia the difltaixe aboard that the spir
ited animal* were dotes their duty.
“There they go“ said the justice,
draw tug a bows breath "Thank heav
en* That Uortor Maxwell ia Satan
ta* a? Bale' ~
*"A horrible tel low!“ echoed the
«leek “1 btlirte be would have shot
ua both down la cold blood if you
hadn't perforated the ceremony.**
'Ten, n horrible fellow’** repeated
Mr Thompson ‘ But an original, re
TrirkHkt- character too; and he has a
very high regard for me He told me
so three times."
CHAPTER XII.
I: was saaart r.t the t'aion camp.
CoMmI Burney had summoned all the
oflkeff* of the regiment to one of the
it—1» Imfinilns which are often im
provised no the march or in rump.
A certain feeling of anilely per
vaded the group. Lieutenant Roland.
“Sit down. doctor. We were just
•peaking of your friend, who has not
yet returned. I am beginning to be
seriouaty anxious about him.”
William is already here.'* said
Maxwell, taking the proffered seat. “I
left him five minutes ago/’
I hank heaven! So you met him
on the way back?"
* No. We returned from Springfield
together."
* From Springfield? What were you
doing there?"
Very different things—some pleas
ant. some disagreeable. In the first
place. I had to bring Lieutenant Ro
land from behind iron bars, then to
secure the worthy Mr. Harrison, who
wished to braud us as spies; then to
subdue all Springfield. Including a
justice of the peace, and. finally, to
*'t ** best man—all in a single hour.
I think, gentlemen. I have accomplish
ed the utmost amount possible within
thi» brief time."
The officers glanced first at one an
other. then at the speaker whose love
of banter they knew, and the colonel
said disapprovingly;
“Don't jest, doctor. Such things
are no laughing matters. If Roland
is really here, why doesn't he report
at once?"
Because he is escorting Mrs. Ro
land to his quarters. One can't blame
a man who has been married only
three hours, if he cares first for his
young wife. He will be here punc
tually at sunset."
“Ills wife? Do you mean Miss Har
rison r*
"Pardon me. I mean Mrs. Roland,
who has accompanied her husband. I
mentioned that I attended the wed
ding “
i he words sounded so plain and
positive that doubt was no longer
possible. But Maxwell was now as
sailed with questions from all sides.
Everybody pressed forward, and he
found himself compelled to relate
briefly what had happened.
“Our return was accomplished with
out the least danger." he said, in con
clusion. "In an elegant carriage and
accompanied by a lady, we were be
yond the pale of suspicion and reach
ed the outposts safely, where Lieuten
ant Davis received us with the utmost
courtesy and went into raptures over
Mrs. Ucisnd. But he is right. Wil
liam is s ^are-devil and incorrigibly
obstinate, but we must admit that he
has good taste. His wife is charm- j
in*."
The last remark seemed to interest
the younger officers extremely. They
wanted to learn all sorts of particulars
about Mrs. Roland and were greatly
disappointed when informed that the
young bride was very' much agitated
by her father s death and probably
would see little of her husband’s com
rades for some time.
"Ah. there comes W’llliam!” he ex
claimed, interrupting himself. "Con
gratulate him. He wears his new
dignity somewhat timidly.”
It was really William, who had come
to report his return. He was warmly
greeted by all. The colonel especially
received him with great cordiality.
•■Welcome, Lieutenant Roland! Here
you are at last! Doctor Maxwell has
already told us the whole adventure
of which you were the hero.”
“Not I but John Maxwell was the
hero.” said William, holding out his
hand to his friend with ill-repressed
emotion. “Had it not been for him, I
should have lost happiness and life.
1 shall never forget what he did to
day.”
Maxwell laughingly refused his
thanks.
“Let that pass. Will; we shall
wrangle again at the very next oppor
tunity. Germans and Americans al
ways quarrel, and our armistice won’t
last long. Today I risked my life for
you; tomorrow you will, perhaps, per
il yours for me; so we shall be quits.
At any rate, you returned punctually
—at sunset!”
lie pointed toward the window. The
sun was just sinking below the hori
zon, and its last beams were fading.
“Yes. I gave my word of honor that
I would do so,” said William, with
the deepest earnestness. “But that I
kept it—was able to keep it—I owe
to you alone.”
THE END.
STORY OF A STAMP
Worth a Oaarter. Then SI.500, Then
Went Ip in Smoke.
In the year 1851 a 12-penny black
Canadian postage stamp was printed
by the government at Ottawa. The
public did not regard this somber is
sue with favor, and few were issued.
One of these stamps was sent to the
Hamilton postoftice, where it was sold
to an old man, who said it was a
shame to print the queen’s picture on
a stamp that might be handled by pro
fane hands. Tenderly the man put it
on a parcel, sending it to a friend in
the United States. Here, in the waste
basket, it lay for many a day. till an
errand boy found it and qickly trans
ferred it to his album. Despairing of
getting a good collection, and his fe
ver somewhat abating, he sold them to
a dealer. The new dealer, on looking
at the catalogue, found that what he
had paid $5 for was worth $25. Acci
dentally this stamp was slipped into
a 25-cent packet and sent to a dealer
residing in Hamilton. When the lat
ter opened the packet he was aston
ished to find fr.ich a valuable stamp,
and, being honest, wrote his friend to
inform him of what had happened, of
fering him $1,200 for it. The offer was
accepted, and the stamp again ' hanged
hands. By this time the stamp had
increased in value, and not a few came
from a distance to look at the treas
ure. One day an English nobleman
who. through a friend, had heard of
the stamp, offered $1,500, which offer
was accepted. The English lord, fall
ing in love with an American heiress,
and wishing to gain the favor of her
brother, presented him with the stamp
as a token of his esteem. Here, in its
new and luxurious home, it came to a
sad end, for one day the maid by
mistake swept the stamp, which had
accidentally fallen out of the album,
into the fire. In an instant the stamp,
which thousands had heard of and
longed for, went up in smoke to the
broad, blue sky, leaving not a trace
behind.
The Tiger Got Out.
No circus menagerie is ever with
out its man-eater, you know,” said the
old wagon driver as reminiscences
were in order. “We had ours when I
was with Dan Rice, and the papers
gave him such an awful reputation for
ferocity that people dared not to come
within ten feet of his cage. Of couise
I used to get off a lecture on him. Ac
cording to my story he had killed and
maimed thirteen different men, five
horses, two camels and a rhinoceros.
One day. after I had delivered the old
stereotyped thing, that tiger pushed
open the door of his cage and jumped
out. Some one's carelessness, you
know. There was a wild rush of peo
ple for the entrance, a general alarm
outside the tents, and for a minute I
was so scared that I couldn’t even
fall down. The tiger was looking
around to see what he could tackle,
when a mongrel dog not more than a
third of his size came rushing up and
sailed into him. True as you live, that
dog humped that tiger three times
around the tent, snapping at his heels
all the time, and the Bengal got away
from him only by leaping back into
his cage. The affair got into the pa
pers, and of course we got the grand
guy all the rest of the season. It paid
us, however. People who wouldn’t
think of going into the circus used to
buy tickets to see that ‘ferocious man
eater,’ and he therefore brought us in
more patrons than any other ten ani
mals combined.”
I.l llane CIiaok'* Grandiom.
The two grandsons of the Chinese
statesman Li Hung Chang visited the
University of California by invitation
of Prof. Fryer, who was acquainted
with them in China. They arrived on
the steamer China on Monday,but were
not able to land until Tuesday after
noon. They went to the Occidental
hotel, and are staying there with Mr.
Walter Lambuth, who is escorting
them to Nashville, where they will per
haps enter Vanderbilt university. The
young men will at first live in a pri
vate family near the university and
take a course to fit them.for entering.
They dress in American style and have
discarded their queues. Although well
educated from a Chinese point of view
they have beer studying only English
two years with a private tutor at their
home in Nanking and Yangchow. They
have pleasing and unassuming man
ners.—Oakland (Cal.) special New
York World.
A* a Rival Looks at It.
‘•So he regards himself as a sena
torial possibility,” said one politician.
“Undoubtedly,” answered the other.
“On what theory.”
“I don’t know, unless it's the the
ory that the unexpected always hap
pens.”—^Washington Star.
A woman never can understand why
her dog doesn't seem as cute to oth
ers as to herself.
A HAPPY VALENTINE.
If I could be a valentine,
I know what I would ZLr
I’d get into an envelope
And travel straight to you.
And if the postman didn’t know
Your name is Baby Dear
And where you live. I'd shake his bag
As soon as he was near.
And then with all my might I'd jump
And run across the street.
(I’m sure that he’d jump, too, to find
A valentine had feet.)
I’d ring the bell and ring the bell
A minute and a half,
And when you came and saw 'twas I,
Oh, my, how we would laugh!
—Anna M. Pratt.
They say she is out of date in this
/nd of the nineteenth century, but that
Is wrong. She may be more coy, more
reticent, more elusive, but she is still
with us. On each St. Valentine's day
she peeps from her casement window,
either literally or figuratively, with
Just as enticing a glance; her smiles
are no less alluring; ner signs create
fully as much havoc.
Perhaps she no longer pins bay
leaves to her pillow to tempt fate, or
makes a pretense of drawing her lot
from a bundle of names written upon
slips of material paper—all that was
but form at best. The Sprite of the
Valentine knew well who was her fate
without such expedients. And she
knows it now.
The eyes of common mortals might
be blinded, but her bright eyes looked
clearly into the future and saw there
the chained captive who reveled in his
chains. She read some tender verse
and smiled at its innocence—she who
was all innocence herself, yet gifted
with that prescient sense of prophecy,
or foreknowledge, against which the
clumsy reason of mortal swain was as
helpless as the wiles of an infant. She
smiled and no mystic rite could be |
more potent. She gave one glance
from beneath the witching fringe of
her long lashes, and no other sorcery
was needed. The same is true today.
Good St. Valentine was a martyr,
they tell us, and some can see no pro
priety in naming this lovers’ day for
him; but to my mind the fitness is
most striking. How many a tortured
heart has gone to its martyrdom at the
eventide of this day! Even escaping
that, how many a soul has been placed
upon the rack by the coquetry of some
maiden sweet at this same crucial
time! For the Valentine Sprite is true
to her sex. in spite of the traditions
that hem her in and fix her place as
some meek captive awaiting the decree
that shall send her rejoicing into
whatever arms are stretched out to
receive her.
Be not deceived. She has decided
upon the arms long before, and they
are held forth at her will. She may
have spoken no word save of the coy
est. but she has willed. Ah, how de
luded are they who cast a pitying eye
upon woman for her lack of the power
to choose and to plead! Know ye not,
my lords of creation, that by far the
most frequently ye are the chosen and
not the choosers? If she wills you to
come you come. If she wills you to
speak you speak, and, more than that,
she has the added power to send you
away empty if so her caprice decides.
This in the
day. What,
In the mystic
At least,
sway. If she
her. If she
snowy
cury and bids him speed with it to her
chosen valentine, for who shall say her
nay? The Valentine Sprite mistakes
not—whom she chooses him she holds.
Heretofore, my brothers, I have
warned you, though the warnings were
vain, but against this enchantress I
cannot bid you steel yourself, for the
soft witchery of her innocent smile has
sealed my lips, and I know not whether
this maiden with the childish grace
and the woman’s wiles be most a bless
ing or a snare to you. I can only tell
you this—your struggles against her
will amount to naught but your own
complete captivity, for with each
plunge you sink deeper the arrow that
has pierced you.
This much of the mystery, however,
I can reveal to you: Mortal maid is
the Valentine Sprite until that fateful
morning when the little winged god
flies from chamber to chamber and
touches sleeping eyes with the feather
end of his arrow, then speeds him on
his way before the white lids unclose
in wonder and the sweet glances go
forth with the wisdom that Cupid
alone can give and each one is touched
with the power of his arrow point.
Mortal maid she is not from that hour
until the going down of the sun. and
man is utterly helpless against the
subtle witchery of this mystic, love
created being who beckons him into
rUvslnm.
And you, O youth, who scoff at the
time-honored privilege of sending to
some lady fair upon this day of days a
plea from your heart, hidden and
shrined within s^tne dainty, perfumed
nest of beauty, or who turn with a
laugh from th* uemory picture or
your great-great-grandfather buried
deep in the lover’s ecstasy and the
poet’s rapture, as he pens the words
which shall be his heart message to
his heart’s desire, do not too lightly set
aside the good old custom; at least,
put it away with tender reverence, for
the spirits of those olden rites are not
to be flippantly consigned to oblivion.
On every hand the Valentine Sprite
uprises, an avenger for any slight,
SHE PEEPS FROM HER CASEMENT
WINDOW.
however small, which is offered to her
patron saint.
In the midst of your scoffing you
hear a whisper at your heart. You
blush and sigh and frown, but you lis
ten, and you feel the pressing of the
arrow point.
“Love, love, be wholly mine;
Come and be my valentine!”
How did the music of it get into your
brain? From that time forth you sigh
and serve. But this is vengeance that
the Valentine Sprite exacts. In the
end you are left wailing in the soli
tude of your twentieth-century superi
ority:
“Love, love, be wholly mine;
Come and be my valentine!”
But it may nc-t be.
While for you, spirit of manly love,
with the reverence of tradition in your
heart and the loyal longing in your
soul, there is a kinder fate. The Val
entine Sprite, With her dower of mystic
wisdom, shall not beckon you but to
taunt. In the far distance of the future
#
years that bind you to her I hear the
echo of a tender strain:
"Love, love, so wholly mine,
I am still thy valentine!”
ST. VALENTINE WAS CRUEL TO
HIS BIRDS.
Annie Trumbull Slosson writes in
Bird-Lore:
The cold wave reached us at Miami,
on Biscayne bay, Florida, in the night
of Feb. 12. On the 13th, Monday, it
was very cold all over the state, with
snow and sleet as far south as Or
mond and Titusville. Our thermometers
at Miami ranged from 36 degrees to 40
degrees during the day. As I sat in
my room in the hotel, about 4 in the
afternoon. I saw a bird outside my
window, then another and another, and
soon the air seemed full of wings.
Opening the window to see what
the visitors could be, I found they were
tree swallows. Several flew' into my
room, others clustered on the window'
ledge, huddling closely together for
warmth. There were hundreds of them
about the house seeking shelter and
warmth. They crept in behind the
window blinds, came into open win
dows, huddled together by dozens on
cornices and sills. They were quite
fearless; once I held my hand outside
and two of them lighted on its palm
and sat there quietly. As it grew
dark and colder their numbers in
creased. They flew about the halls
and perched in corners, and the whole
house was alive with them. Few of
the guests in the hotel knew what they
w’ere; some even called them “bats,"
and were afraid they might fly into
their faces or become entangled in
their hair. One man informed those
about him that they were humming
birds, “the large kind, you know’,” but
all were full of sympathy for the beau
tiful little creatures out in the cold and
darkness. A few were taken indoors
and sheltered through the night, but
“what w’ere these among so many?”
The next morning the sun shone
brightly, though the weather was still
very cold—the mercury had fallen be
low 30 degrees during the night. But
as I raised the shade of one of my
eastern windows I saw’ a half-dozen of
the swallows sitting upon the ledge in
the sunshine, while the air seemed
again filled w’ith flashing wings. 1
was so relieved and glad. Surely the
tiny creatures, with their tints of
steely blue or shining green contrast
ing with the pure white of the under
parts, were more hardly than I had
feared. But alas! it was but a rem
nant that escaped. Hundreds were
found dead. Men were sent out with
baskets to gather the limp little bodies
from piazzas, window ledges and cop
ings. It was a pitiful sight for St.
Valentine day, when, as the old song
has it:
“The birds are all choosing their
mates.”
Goodness and Manhood.
The older I grow the more I revere
goodness—just plain every-day good
ness—having nothing heroic nor spec
tacular in it. for I think this is the gift
of which God has been the least prodi
gal, says the Woman’s Home Com
panion. Intelligence without goodness
may mean nothing higher than a prize
fighter, but goodness with strength and
intelligence makes a man as he wa3
created to be, an image of the God
head. The most symmetrical man of
this century was Mr. Gladstone and
his moral nature was as sweet and
wholesome as his Intellect and body
were strong. In mind, in heart, in
soul, in everything but physique and
inches he was a giant But the salient
feature in Gladstone’s character and
what lifts him above every contem
porary was his moral earnestness. He
was a good man and his religious con
victions formed the warp and woof of
his nature. \
i
i .
CZARINA AS A GIRL.
SHE WAS FOND OF ROMPING
IN WILD PLACES.
A Fearie*« Rld« of the Mountain
Pony—Ones Canao N«r Losing Her
L,|f*—Still Cherishes Urlns Recollec
tions of Her Childhood Days.
The Girl’s Realm for December has a
sketch by “Sybil.” of the girlhood of
the empress of Russia. The photo
graph of her majesty as a baby shows
marked promise of force of character,
and bears a singular resemblance to
the latest portrait. The following gossip
of Deeside may be selected for citation
here: “The great delight of her girl
hood were the visits to Balmoral,
where she would scour the hills on her
mountain pony. Many stories have I
heard in the Highlands about the fear
less riding of Princess Alix. One
morning she was riding in a strong
wind, which carried her hat literally
over the hills and far away, and she
arrived at the keeper’s house in the
forest with her hair streaming down
her back and a pocket handkerchief
tied over her head. The keeper’s wife
was terribly concerned to see the
queen's granddaughter arriving in such
a plight, but Princess Alix enjoyed the
fun. She borrowed a comb and hair
pins, and having reduced her stray
locks to order, again assumed the
pocket handkerchief for head-gear, and
in it galloped hope to the castle. Prin
cess Alix and her sisters visited freely*
amongst the cottages at Balmoral, and
had many adventures in their rambles
about the shores of the Dee. Their
great delight was a village shop a short
distance from the castle, kept by an
old lady named Mrs. Symonds. This
ancient worthy had her shop stocked
with all kinds of oddments such as
children delight in—fishing tackle,
balls, tam-o’shanter caps—and further
more she sold sweetmeats and cakes.
The shop has been for many years the
rendezvous of the queen's juvenile vis
itors, and it is to many of them a novel
delight to be able to zo and make
little purchases for them=elves without
form or ceremony. The empress of
Russia, when she visited Balmoral aft
er her marriage, showed that she cher
ished a loving recollection of her old
haunts, for the very first place she
visited on the morning after her ar
rival was the shop. She brought the
czar with her, quite in a girlish mood
to see, as she said, if Mrs. Symonds
would know who he was. She also
went one afternoon and took tea with
the keeper's wife in the house in the
wood, and talked about the time when
she had come riding there without her
hat.” Even when she was 16 the fu
ture empress “took delight in reading
books on philosophy and sociology.”
NEW IN THE COUNTRY.
A Drummer's Rad Break In One of the
Central American Capitals.
“It takes some time to learn the so
cial ropes in Central America,” re
marked a gentleman in the banana
trade, “and a stranger is very apt to
put his foot in it. The first time I ever
went into the country myself was as
the representative of an American ma
chinery house. There was a good field
for us in one of the republics, but the
tariff was prohibitive, and I concluded
to go over to the capital and have an
interview with the minister of agri
culture, hoping to persuade him to rec
ommend a reduction. I spoke pretty
fair Ollendorf Spanish, but was other
wise green as a gourd, and as soon as
I arrived I made a bee line for the
administration building. While I was
cooling my heels in an ante-room,wait
ing for a chance to speak to somebody
in authority and ascertain how the
minister could be seen, a very black,
fat little negro waddled in, wearing
what I took to be a species of livery.
He had exactly the air of an impudent,
overfed house servant, and he looked
me over in a way that made my blood
boil. ‘Hi, boy!' I said sharply, ‘how
long must I wait here?’ ‘How should I
know?’ he replied in Spanish; ‘if it
doesn't suit you, to get out.’ He
chuckled as he spoke, and his answer
so infuriated me that I lost my head.
Jumping up I seized him by the collar
and the slack of his absurd embroider
ed trousers and propelled him, tur
key fashion, through the open door.
‘There, you black scoundrel!’ I ex
claimed. ‘go and send somebody after
my card!’ The little fat darky was so
amazed that he couldn’t utter a word.
He simply gazed and disappeared. Half
a minute later a squad of soldiers
rushed in and placed me under arrest,
and then I learned that my friend in
the embroidered pantaloons was the
minister of public instruction. I will
leave you to imagine my feelings. It
took three hours of solid talk from
both the American and British consuls
to get me out of the scrape, and, inci
dentally, I made a groveling apology.
Of course, I didn't dare to introduce
the machinery proposition after such a
debut, so my trip was a flat failure. As
I said before it takes some time for a
stranger to grasp the etiquette of those
parts.”—New Orleans Times-Democrat
“Tea- School.
The oddest school in the United
States is now in daily session at Pine
hurst, Summerville. S. C.. says the New
York Journal. Uncle Sam’s paternal
and financial part in the institution
makes it of interest to the nation. It
is situated in the heart of the tea lands
about Summerville, and its odd feature
is the curriculum. Under the super
vision of a competent teacher thirty
South Carolina pickaninnies are
taught the three old fashioned R’s—
“readin’, ’ritin’ and ’r’thmetic”—and
tea picking. And the last is not the
least important study. The rapid de
velopment of tea raising in the South
has received additional impetus from
the announced intention of Sir Thomas
Upton to invest *500,000 in tea cul
ture in South Carolina. Sir Thomas is
familiar with the soil and climatic
conditions of the state, having at one
time worked as a laborer on a rice
plantation in Georgetown county.
The United States Department of
Agriculture is taking a lively interest
in the “tea school,” and has given it
financial aid.
Only the very poor or the very rich
can afford to keep dogs.
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