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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (May 4, 1900)
ON THE VELDT A South African Love Story The day broke at last, and the guards entered the tent and cat the bonds that bosnd the prisoner's legs. The upper part of his face was envel oped In a thick woolen mu«er. and than blindfolded he wan led out to die. Hie grave was already dag. and they heaide It The firing party of four men: three of the nine bald blank cartridges and the fourth was to deal the death blow, hut none of them knew who held the r ' ~ " m were in charge of a revolver In his the prisoner be alive ' had fired, it was the to execute the sentence l_ ‘Present1 Flre,*‘ The rifies rang out. and Hendrick stood by his grave unhurt Without a word the oAoer advanced to within’ three paces of the doomed man. rais ed his revolver, and a ballet crashed through Hendrick's brain. He fell forward, and then rolled on his back, the bandage slipped from his eyes, and the fare of the dead man lay upturned to heaven. His executioner took a atep forward, and then a cry of agony startled the morning air. “Hendrick! Hendrick! My God! My God! Hendrick! My brother! And I have killed him. Oh. God, forgive, forgive!" Paul Hoops tad placed his revolver to his forehead, and fell across the corpse of his brother. They loved each other In life, and together they Joined the great unknown. That morning the English army stormed the heights of Glencoe, and the Boers were defeated with heavy slaughter, and side by side with Cap tain Dick Harvey rode John Martin. In the engagement Captain Harvey j was wounded, and sent to Durban, where Nancy nursed her soldier lover back to health. He told her the story j of Hendrick's death as he had heard it from one of the Boer prisoners. “He loved me.” she said, as the tears ran down her cheeks. “He said he would serve me to the death, and in rescuing my father he lost his life!” (The End.) The Mercy of the Boer A Wartime Story of the Transvaal Night had Just fallen upon the veldt. The short dusk had suddenly deepened into a heavy, thick obscurity, im penetrable for a spare until there rose the rim of a full moon over the edge of the plain which showed hard and clear against the great disk. The ant hills, that alone broke the monotonous flatness, flung interminable inky shad ows as the cold, white glare, electric in its fierce intensity, shone out level across the plains. By the edge of the marsh a transport wagon had outs panned for the night, and within the circle of firelight, where moon and flame struggled for the mastery, loomed the wavering outlines of the trek oxen tethered to the disselboom. and now and again the figure of a man. The only sounds were the crackling chirps of the bullfrogs in tbe vlei, and tbe voices of two men who sat leaning back against the kaross of meer-kat skins flung over one of the wagon wheels. “No!" repeated tbe elder man, the transport rider and owner of the wagon—raising his voice. “With us they shall not come—either she or the brat." “But look, Jakob.” persisted the other; “it is now three weeks, four weeks, that we are on the trek, and she has followed all the time, and car ried the child, too. How the poor girl lives 1 do not know. Take only the child. Jakob.” “How are we to eat? How is the vrouw to eat?” demanded the Boer querulously. “Are there not enough mouths to fill already? And God knows how much further the span can go without water in this accursed country; they have enough to pull, as it is. And why should I feed the wife and child of every black schelm that is fool enough to want them? Ver domte swartikop! ” And he spat angrily Into the fire. “But the child,” persisted Piet; "that is small and eats but little, not a quarter as much as a dog. Besides, Klaus may run away if the girl falls sick, and he alone knows the rpad and the drifts across the river.” There was a moment’s pause. "Well, then, tbe brat, in God’s name,” snap ped the other. The girl can walk, as ahe has walked these three weeks,” he added, and rolled himself into his rug to avoid further surrender. Piet rose stiffly to his feet; the night breexe was growing chill. He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, kicked some fuel into the embers of the fire' and Vent around to the other side of the wagon, where the three ttasuto boys were lying. “Klaus!” he called. "Here a mo ment! ” A grunt from one of the blankets answered him. “Baas Jakob says a baby may ride with the vrouw in the wagon, but the girl must still walk.” There was a sudden movement at his feet and a dark figure rolled out of the blanket. “No. boy, no! Not that!” His hand was being covered with kisses. Piet drew it sharply away, and. taking a strip of biltong from his pocket, thrust it into the Basuto’s grasp. “Here, this msy help for the girl; it was all I could get,” he answered roughly, and turning on his heel he went back to where bis brother lay sleeping. Baas Piet was as averse to being generous as the transport rider, though for other reasons. For a while Klaus lay still. Presently, carrying the piece of hard sundried meat and his own supper of boiled mealies, he crept shivering from his blanket and went slowly out to the silent veldt, in the direction from which the wagon had come, as he had gone every night to listen for the signal that told him Betts was there among the ant hills Then he would cheer her up and sit beside her while she ate some of his poor rations, though they were not enough for her and the child. Klaus grasped the kerrle dangling from his belt at the recollection of the cut across the mouth that the drunken transport rider had given him with Us sjambok when he had asked Us permission- Besides, there was the baby, and be could not have left both of them behind, so far from the kraal and her own people But Baas Jhkob was a hard man. and he did not uader her back; and there were yet three weeks more and the desert strip to cross before they reached the Great Belt and the river. But the baby was to ride in the wagon now with the vrouw. and the girl would not be so tired. Ah! Baas Piet was a good man—bet ter than Baas Jakob. He would help; and later on he might even be rich enough to buy a few head of cattle and some ponies and they would all go back to the old place on the Krei. and • • • He started to his feet as the pipe of a honeybird came faint ly out of the distance. Bstta was there at last. • * * • • The wagon was creaking along un der the burning noonday sun; the ox en stumbled lazily with lolling ton gues; crawling at snail's pace without fear of the flick of the lash, for every one was asleep except the little voer loper trudging in front of the two leaders, crooning an endless native song to himself. Suddenly there was a stir under the tilt The curtain was flung aside, and Baas Piet stepped out on to the fore part of the wagon, yawning sleepily. “Boy!” he shouted, “onsaddle the mare. I shall ride on to the water hole beyond the drift. It cannot be far off now.” Klaus appeared from underneath the wagon, where his blanket was slung l^tmmock fashion in the day time. “No, Baas Piet, the spruit should not be more than one hour's ride now, and the hole is only two, three miles further.” Presently he brought the mare ■ around from the back of the wagon, where she had been tied up, tightened the girths and rolled up the riem of the neck halter. Baas Piet swung himself off the edge of the wagon into the saddle. “Tell the Baas when he wakes up,” he said; and with a shake of the reins cantered off through the dust. “It cannot be far now,” repeated Klaus to himself, as he watched him until he became invisible in the midst of the vast brown expanse of sun scorched hillside. It was now five days since they had left the last vlei, and he had giv en nearly all his share of the hot muddy water that the vrouw served out to the girl for the last few days, but that was very, very little, and she i was sick. too. The baby was certainly the most contented of all, lying in an empty sugar box under the shade of the tilt, engaged in coiling the soft end of the eighteen-foot lash round and round its chubby arms. It grew fatter and merrier every day. The vrouw rather liked it. black as It was, for she had no children of her own. All at once came a warning shout from the voerloper. They were right on the edge of the drift, and the lead ers began to pick their way slowly down the steep bank over the loose rocks and sand. Klaus was busy put ting the heavy iron shoe drag under one of the hind wheels, while Baas Jakob, in a bad temper at having his sleep disturbed. sa| upon the front of the wagon, swearing at him and the other boys for being laxy. Now sliding sideways over a smooth, shelving rock, now plunging down over a ledge with a jar that wrenched every bolt and wheel spoke, the heavy wagon crashed down the bank only to come to a dead stop at the bottom, imbedded in sand up to the axles. The span were knotted in a tangled mob of clashing horns and twisted yoke reins, snuffing and pawing up the sand with Impatient hoofs; instinct told them that water was there—but it was far. far below, for the rains had fallen many months back. “Verdomte rooinecks!” raged the angry Baas, beside himself. “Twist their tails; get that iron spike here. Hendrik—that will make the devils move.*' But it was of no uae; the span only became more hopelessly entangled. In vain Klaus dashed in among them. Sjambok in band, kicking here and slashing there, while Hendrik and the voerloper called upon the beasts by name and urged them forward. Wa ter they knew eras there, and water they would have. “The whip! Why don't you take the whip, you scheims? Where is it?" roared the infuriated Boer, rising and glaring nhout the wagon. is he ureal forward he atambted it and sending the child rolling across the floor of the wagon, where it lay in a ball on a heap of skins, crowing with delight- People so seldom play ed games with it The Boer thrust the empty box back against the side with his foot, and snatched up the bamboo whip handle. Poising it carefully above his head in both hands, he gave a preliminary flourish, but the end was caught in something—the brat again, curse it! It opened wide eyes of pleasure at him, holding up its dimpled wrists, wound round with the end of the lash. With a savage oath he kicked it off the end of the wagon into the midst of the struggling cattle and brought the great whip down upon them with all his force. Again and again it uncoiled and whirxed down with a crack like a rifle shot, cutting into the steaming flanks of the plunging mob until they bellowed again. Scarred and bleed ing, deafened by the report of the whip and the hoarse yells of the men. the maddened beasts straightened out, and with Kla is and the voerloper tugging at the leaders’ heads, strained, pant ing up the further bank of the drift, j It was late that evening before Klaus crawled stealthily away from the wagcn. taking a full beaker of fresh water from the pool, and his j suppel; the Baas was very angry with j him because the wagon had stuck in 1 the drift—though how could he help it j if the oxen would not be driven?—and ■ had forbidden him to leave the wagon j to see Betta. But no Baas could keep * him from doing that, no matter how j many hidings he got for it. Klaus walked for many hours, but the girl did not come. Of course, hav ing the baby to carry again would make her take longer; for Baas Jakob had told him how he had seen it roll off the wagon that morning trying to reach a big tortoise on the road and crawl after it unhurt, and how he had watched it there until Betta had pick ed it up when she came along. Still, she would catch them up next evening, and he left the water beaker and the food tied up in a piece of a rag under a heap of stones in the middle of the road, so that the aasvogels could not get at them, and Betta might find them there in the morning. But Betta did not catch the wagon up next evening, or the next. — ^ w • Four days afterward they had pass ed the edge of the desert and out spanned among the shady tamarisks and the willows by the banks of the Great river. “Never mind. Klaus,” said Baas Piet kindly, patting him on the shoulder; “hunger is a bad death, but it is God's will. Besides." he added, with a smile, "there are yet many good girls in Ba sutoland. But you will stay with Baas Jakob and me yet a bit?” “I stay with you—and Baas Jakob.” answered Klaus simply. "He treats me as well as any other Baas." (The End.) A CHEROKEE ALPHABET. It Has Bom Invented by n Pall Blooded Member of the Tribe. The new hieroglyphic alphabet is a novelty. It is the invention of a full blooded Cherokee Indian, by nama Sequoayah. He has for a long time sought some method of writing the Cherokee language,hitherto only spok en. He found that the English letters would not express the sounds of that tongue, nor would his fellow Chero kees take up the white man’s letters. To overcome thi3 difficulty he decided to invent a new alphabet, easy to learn and at the same time expressive of the sounds of the Cherokee language. The Indian eye will not easily come down to mere lines, so he used pictures of things to indicate the letters or sounds of letters. He succeeded at last in forming an alphabet of sixty-eight signs by which he could express all o! the sounds of his native tongue. At the same time the letters are so large and distinct from each other os not to be easily confused. He first tried his new alphabet on his wife, and found that she could easily remember the sounds and learn to read. Then he called in half a dozen of the Cher okee warriors and tried his letters on them. Here again he succeeded. He wrote a few sentences in Cherokee, and they read them after a little train ing. % Strasburg'* Astronomical Clock. The celebrated astronomical clock of Strasburg is in the minster, or cathe dral, and was originally designed by an astronomer named Isaac Habrecht, in the early part of the sixteenth cen tury. Previous to this time, in fact as early as 1354, Strasburg had an as tronomical clock. It was in three parts. The lower part had a universal calendar, the central part an astro labe, and in the upper division were figures of the three Magi and the Vir gin. At every hour the Magi came forward and bowed to the Virgin; at the same time a chime was played, and a mechanical cock crew. This clock of the Magi, as it was called, stopped in the early part of the sixteenth cen tury. and was replaced by a clock made by Habrecht, which ran until 1789, when it atopped, and all at tempts to put Its works in order failed. In 1838 a clockmaker named Schwilgue undertook to remodel the internal machinery, and finished it in 1S42. About Frightening ChUdrso. If a child is constitutionally nerv ous. says the American Journal of Health, it is no use to think that it can be made different by force. Argu ment. too, in many cases only intensi fies the terror which children often feel if left alone in the dark, and gives definite expression to fears which are purely imaginary.- Many people argue that a child who is afraid to be left alone or to go into a dark room ought to be made to do either of these things in order to find out that no harm will come to him. Now, chil dren are seldom really afraid unlem they have been made so. and it is a curious fact that the most timid child shrinks from disclosing his fears to anyone. In such a came someone has certainly warned him that worse things will happen if he dares to dis close the reason of his alarm. Very often it is the simplest thing which has been made to appear so terrible »Ml«r WUfsl» COSditSSSS. 1 TWO LETTERS. The picture was a decidedly pret ty one—there was a sloping lawn lead ing down to the river Thames. An old faahioned house, with gabled roof and French windows were all open, for the day was a hot one In July. By one of them a girl stood in a white dress, with a crimson rose fastened in her belt. Her eyes were lowered; she was reading a letter. “It’a awful to think of the two let ters «w>»ng the same day.** she said to herself. “Of course, I know what this letter contains.” Here she looked down at an unopened envelope which she was holding firmly clasped in her right hand. She hesitated as she glanc ed at it, and with an effort she took the second letter out of its cover and reed the following words: “Dear Margot—For God’s sake, don’t give yourself to that other fellow be cause he is rich. You know perfect ly well that I love you to distraction. Yours, “ROBERT CECIL." “Margot, Margot," shouted a gay voice. Some little steps were heard on the gravel, and a girl of eleven or twelve years of age, with a quantity of hair falling over her shoulders, ran around the house and up to Margot's side. “Sir Peter Ansell is coming down the avenue, Margot—he is driving his mail phaeton tandem, and it's perfect ly splendid to see him. Why. how funny you look, and what is that let ter which Gip is worrying? Oh. Mar got it’s in Sir Peter’s handwriting.” ‘‘Pick up all the bits. Polly, do. do." exclaimed the elder girL “Oh. you wicked Gip. what a nuisance you are. Why, I had scarcely read the letter, and—and—” “Was it very important?" asked Polly, who was down on her knees helping to collect the scattered frag ments. “Oh. I suppose so; well, it does not matter. Is Sir Peter coming around here. Polly? Do I look all right?" “You look splendid,” said Polly, with emphasis. . “Of course, he’s com ing round here. It's you he has come to visit—we all know what he wants. Oh. Margot, do say yes to him. I do want to drive a tandem so dreadfully, and Bob said this morning he was go ing to get a pony first thing out of that old beggar of an Ansell. see if he wasn’t You have got to say yes, and see that you do. Oh, what letter is that you are crushing up in your hand?” “Nothing—nobody’s letter,” said Margot, incoherently. “How do you do. Sir Peter?” She held out her hand to a stout, florid-looking man who now approached. “Well, Margot," he said, “you have read my letter, and, of course, it’s to be yes, isn’t it—you do love me a lit tle bit, don’t you?” “Yes, I like you,” said Margot, mak ing a desperate effort. “Well, that's pleasant to hear—you can easily change like into love now, can’t you?” Margot thought of Bob. who want ed good schooling; of Polly, who was running wild, without any chance of growing up as a young lady should; of her father who was over head and heels In debt, and of her mother, who had been worried straight out of this world by money cares. She shut away the ploture of the man who had sent her the other let ter. “After all,” she said to herself, “what does one girl’s life matter? Sir Peter is a millionaire, and he can save us all. Yes, I’ll marry him." She turned her face toward the burly countenance of her lover, and said bravely: xou are very Kina 10 me, ana i suppose I'll love you in time.” “Yes; that you shall, and pretty soon, too,” he answered. “Now. give me a kiss. Margot.” Margot held up her cheek—Sir Peter put his arm around her and kissed her several times. The rest of the day passed In a sort of a dream. There was excitement and delight in the Forrester house hold. Margot was kissed, blessed and congratulated by every soul in the place. Sir Peter had a long and emi nently satisfactory interview with Mr. Forrester. Margot wondered how she was ever to go through with it. The other letter seemed to burn a hole in her pocket. She felt it wherever she went. “You know perfectly well that I love you to distraction.” This sentence kept repeating Itself over and over, in her disturbed mind. Sir Peter was coming back to late din ner. and special preparations were be ing made In his honor. Mr. Forrester was uncorking some of his latest good Burgundy—Polly was filling all the vases wKh fresh flowers. There was a festive air over everything. Dinner was to be at half-past 7. At half-past 6 Margot put on her hat and went out The great heat of the day was tempered now by a gentle breese. Margot meant to give baraelf half an hour of solitude. She meant during that half hour to read Cecil’s letter and then tear it Into tiny frag ments. When the letter was torn up perhaps that tiresome sentence: “You know I love you to distraction,” would cease to haunt her. She went down to the bank of the river, and. seating herself under a tree, took out the letter. She had scarcely done so before a manly voice shouted her name. There waa the dip of oars and the gentle swish of a host being propelled rapidly forward. Cedi, in boating costume. palled ap under th« tree where Margot was sitting. In a moment be had jumped oat “Now. this is luck." he exclaimed. “To think that I should find you here, and absolutely reading my letter. Ob. I say. Margot is it—is it all right?" His bronzed face was pale as be asked the question, his voice shook. “No; it’s all wrong." said Margot with a sudden passion. "Oh. Robert I’m not strong enough—I could not withstand them all.. We are so fear fully poor—and—father's debts. Rob ert. 1 could not help myself—some one had to be sacrificed." “You don't mean to tell me." said Cedi, interrupting her. and grasping her arm with such force that she cried out with pain, “you don’t mean to tell me. Margot that after my letter you have gone and given yourself to that fellow r* “Yes, I have." said Margot bursting into a passion of tears. “I have, and he's coming back to dinner, and I must go." “Look at me. Margot," said the young man. "You don’t love him?" “No.” "And do you love me?" "Yes." “Then don’t you think you’re doing a very wicked thing, a very unfair thing to Sir PeterT" “I am marrying him because be Is rich.” said Margot, “and to help all the others. When a girl has a father and brothers and sisters, she must sacrifice herself sometimes. 1 never told him that I loved him." “Did you tell him that you loved me?” “No.” "I repeat that you are doing wrong, Margot, and no good will come of it." Cecily sprang down the bank cnee more and jumped into the boat. Mar got returned to the bouse. In the hall she was met by Polly. “Margot,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what can be gong on, but Sir Peter arrived here about a quarter of an hour ago. and he was not dressed for dinner, and he seemed to be in a most awful rage about something. He is with father in the study. I was lis tening at the door and I heard his voice getting louder and louder, and father trying to soothe him. Oh, there. I hear the door opening and father is calling you. Run. Margot, do run, and find out what is the matter. Oh. dear, dear! ’ continued Polly, “your eyes are red and your face all stained with crying. Are things going to turn out wrong after all?” •'Margot," called the father, “come here at once." She obeyed him immediately. He took her hand, drew her into the study and locked the door. Sir Peter, whose face was alarming* ly red, was standing on the hearth rug. He came straight up to Margot when she entered the room. “Now young lady.” he said, “I want to ask you a plain question. Is that my letter that I wrote to you this morn ing, or is It not?" Here he held up a much chewed and disfigured morsel of paper. “Is that jay letter?*' he repeated; “is that my signature?” “Yes;” said Margot, looking at It, “I’m really very sorry,” she exclaimed, “GIp has been chewing it.” “You hear her,” exclaimed Sir Peter, turning to Forrester. “You see, she confesses the whole thing. Now, what excuse have you to make for such con duct, Miss Forrester?” “Margot could have known nothing about it,” began Mr. Forrester. “Yes. I did,” said Margot. “I saw him doing it, but the fact is I was so busy reading another letter that I did not wait to stop him. Sir Peter,” she continued, “I made a mistake when I said ‘yes’ this morning—I can’t go on with my sugagement. I find that I—I don’t love you—that I shall never love you. and that I do love some one else.” “By Jove!” exclaimed Sir Peter, “isn’t that a nice confession to make?” I write you a proposal of marriage and you allow your dog to chew up my letter. You accept me in the morn ing and you reject me in the evening, and finally you tell me that you love another man better than me. Don’t yon think you have behaved very bad ly?” “I do," answered Margot, "I hare behaved dreadfully both to you and to the other man.” She left the room without another word and went up to her bedroom. The day had begun badly, and now it was going to end badly. Margot did not dare to return to the bosom of her justly aggrieved family again that night. She cried a great deal; finally she took Cecil’s letter and read it care- ' fully over—not once, but many times. Then she raised it to her Ups and kiss ed it passionately, and she got into bed, and, holding it open in her palm, she went to sleep with It pressed against her cheek. When she awoke the next morning she felt less unhappy; in short, things seemed to have cleared themselves a little in her brain. She no longer felt that it was her duty to sacrifice herself to her family. i It so happened that Cecil, who had called early at the house that morn ing. was able to confirm her in this opinion. “How Do Too Do?” The Germans say “Wie beflnden sie sich?" (How do you find yourself?) or “Wie gehts?” (How goes it?); the Dutch “Hoe vaart gij?” (How do you fare?); the Italians, “Come state (How do you stand?); the French “Comment vous portex-vous?” (How do you carry yourself?). In Spain, as In Germany, the usual greetings are “Como esta usied?” (How are you) or "Que tal va?” (How goes It?). The Greeks say “Ti Kamete?" (What do you do?), while in China the expression is. “Have you eaten your rice?” in Rus sia. “Be well!” or “How do you live on?” and in Arabia, “May your morn ing be good!” or “God grant thee big favors.” The Turk's greeting is, “Be under the csre of God,” and that of the Persians, “Is thy exalted condition good? May thy shadow never be less!” The briefest and at the same time most expressive salutation is the North American Indian’s “How!"— Collier’s Weekly. About 20 000,000 false teeth are pro duced annually in the United States, nearly all being the product of Phila delphia factories. About 40.000 ounces of fine gold are seed with tsia output ON THE OCEAN S BED. MARVELOUS LIFE BENEATH THE WAVES. Cacaaay Crtatwa That Light Thalr Ova Ways by Eftactrtetty la tbt For those unfamiliar with the In restigntions of students of the deep me it is difficult to realise how life sa exist where the pressure is many tons to the square inch, where a ray of sunlight has never reached and where eternal silence reigns. To make the ocean depths a reality, writes Prof. Charles F. Holder. I wtl ask the reader to imagine that he is equipped with a diver’s armor capable ; of resisting pressure and accompany j me into the deep sea. As we descend into the blue depths we realise that j we have entered another world, where j to aU intents and purposes water is | the atmosphere. If we entered the ! ocean on the Pacific coast from the | beach we would gradually walk down an easy descent for many miles: and the same is true of the Atlantic. Al most Immediately the light fades, so | that at a depth of 560 feet it is com i paratively dark and intensely cold, j Deeper we descend, the sunlight I gradually fading, until at a depth of a ! quarter of a mile the darkness is in i tense, so far as the sun is concerned. In shallow water we have passed i through the region of abundant life ! Along the shore are schools of por j poises, immense whales that occasion ally venture far below the surface, and a number of air-breathing, fish like animals that are kept near the surface by their structure and require | ments. Here are schools of fish—sal j mon and sardines; and passing is a j migrating herd of seals. Deeper we . pass and leave them behind, descend I ing to a depth of 1.560 feet in dark i ness profound. Everywhere there is life. Every i drop of water is alive; and standing j in this strange region, at a depth of a I mile or so. we hod ourselves in a j rainstorm beneath the sea. All about ! are countless objects dropping upon [ us. Invisible to the eye. but so result producing in the aggregate that the rain drops pile and heap up in such masses that with those that die on the bottom they round off the tops of submarine hills and mountains, fill up valleys, and the thick gelatinous ooze through which we have walked with so much difficulty is the visible result of the rain. In brief, we are in the region of the glohigerina ooze. It has been estimated that if lime secreting organisms are as numerous down to a depth of 600 feet as they are near the surface there would be more than sixteen tons of calcareous shells or carbonate of lime in the uppermost 100 fathoms of every square mile ol the ocean. Thg rainstorm la the falling of these countless shells to the bottom. They are ever dying; the animal is destroy ed. and the little shell sinks, piling up at the bottom and forming the well known ooze. Descending into deeper depths we still find life. Many of the fish are blind; nearly all have phosphorescent lights, and their shapes and forms are strange and uncanny. Sunlight does not reach below 1,000 fathoms; beyond this no plant life exists, and the various forms of life prey upon one another. Among the deep sea fish especially there Is constant warfare. Assuming that we are walking on the ocean bottom at the depth of over a mile, we move cautiously along in water Icy cold, and suddenly are con fronted with a blaze of light and find ourselves in a field of light givers. Im agine a cornfield with stalks from two to four feet iu bight, the tips gleam ing with light and waving gently to and fro. Such an appearance the fields of umbellularia present Off St Vincent the Challenger dredged in a field of light giving gorgonias, with stems about two feet long. The trawl came up choked with them from a region a mile below the surface, each one emitting a vivid, lilac-colored light In all probability the largest and most remarkable fishes have not been seen and escape the dredge. Many of these strange forms of the abysmal depths are types of extinct forms, and we can only imagine what won ders the deep sea hides. In the At lantic and Pacific gigantic squids from fifty to seventy feet in length are found, and glimpses of strange snake or eel-like sharks are suggestive of the uncaught mysteries and un seen dwellers in the deep sea. Among the curious light givers is a shark which was caught by Dr. Bennett It was perfectly black, but emitted a strange phosphorescent light, which remained some time after the animal's death. The shark was placed in a jar in the cabin of the vessel, and is described as presenting a ghostly ap pearance, emitting a rich green light, almost sufficient to read by. In descending into the intermedi ate depths, the jellyfish and forms that live in the open water attract our at tention. Here is a jellyfish, its disk six feet across, its train of tentacles possibly emitting a vivid light and stretching away in a maze of bril liant lines for perhaps 100 feet Tb* Coaalujr Thaw In Siberia. Mr. William Le Queux is reported to be about to set out on a journey which is sure to result in several books. He is to travel in Siberia along the route of the great Trans-Siberian railway and has been accorded official per mission to visit all penal settlements, mines sad prisons in Siberia. Books of fiction and fact are to be written, but it is hoped that Mr. Le Queux will not mix the two too carelessly. As a writer of wildly exciting novels he has shown that he possesses an imagina tion heated enough to make one won der whether the Russian government is wise in opening Siberia to such an investigator.—Saturday Post ookb p*«r« CoS**. “Oom Paul,*’ like all his countrymen, has been practically nourished on black coffee. To it be ascribes bis re markable health, for he has never been sick a day in his life. He drinks it polsonously strong and so hot that, as the Boers say, "if it dropped on a <*sjr — - - ' _ ■ J HARVESTING ICE. Cfckw Pass Tbroagh Mur Hudj H*> fan Hwcfelag Cniim,. The cutting of the ice on a pond is an interesting process, and the equip ment is peculiar and varied. All the Call and winter, until the harvest is closed, men and horses, after every snowstorm, scraps the ice to the glare with snow scrapers. When the cut ting begins a horse draws a marker across that portion of the pond im mediately to be cut. leaving a light, straight Incision along the surface. This is repeated until the surface is all marked eff one way. each line be ing 24 inches apart Then the groov er goes over the same course making the incision deeper and broader. The process is repeated, except that this time the mark goes at right angles to the lines drawn first and at a distance of 36 inches apart. Then the course is gone over by the plows, until the lines each way are cut to a depth of nine inches. The ice gone over for the last time is ready for the “canal.” After the last passage of the plow which makes the narrow goove, a few quick, well directed blows from an ice chisel in the hands of a skilled cutter, and a large “float” containing 100 or more of the ordinary 24x36 cakes is broken from the field. Ready men with pikes at the end of long poles push it through the open water to the vicinity of the elevator. The “canal.” of course, is longer the farther away from the elevator the men are cut ting. The course must be kept open and should It freeze during the night the new ice must be broken. The first men who receive the float at the ele vator break it with their chisels lengthwise, and the smaller piece is sent under the plank bridge, where the cross sections are broken off. each cake is then at hand ready for its up ward journey. The “feeder" drives it with his pike to the proper position, when it is caught by a section of the endless chain and up. up. up it glides. The feeder must be careful and quick of eye. to see that every piece of the 40 each minute that passes through his hands is whole, of the right size, and gets its correct position upon the chain. A cake askew might wreck the whole elevator. The cakes are kept stored in rooms until wanted. SHOULD BE KING OF ENGLAND At Uut That I* What Jacobite* Claim for This Bridegroom-to-Be. The bethrothal of the handsome Princess Mathilde of Bavaria to Prince Louis of Sax e-Coburg and Gotha Is of double interest, inasmuch as the prin cess is the daughter of the Stuart queen “Her Christian and Catholic majesty Queen Mary IV. of Scotland and III. of England" (as her adherents contend), and the prince a member of the royal house to which our prince consort belonged, now represented by Duke Alfred, Prince Ludwig of Ba varia, who should some day ascend the throne as "King Ludwig III..” is the eldest son of Prince Lnitpold. the prince regent, and was born Jan. 7. 1845. He is a general of Bavarian in fantry, and married at Vienna. Feb. 20, 1868. the Archduchess Maria Theresa of Austrla-Este. who is the lineal descendant of Henrietta Marla, eighth child of Charles I.. while Queen Victoria claims only descent from a daughter of James I. The princess, who is Just 50 years of age, is the “legitimate" queen of these realms, and her eldest son. Prince Rupert, the “pretender” of the Jacobites. Still, he will some day rule the solid, beer-drinking Bavarians, and, like his mother, does not seem to as pire to the honors thrust upon them by their Jacobite partisans.—London Sketch. A Safe Fire Eimpe. Most of the fire escapes installed in hotels and similar buildings, where they are required by law, are simply makeshifts, hardly suitable for wom en or children to manipulate, as they usually require some dexterity and considerable muscular exertion on the part of the user. In a fire escape re cently invented by Louis N. Duquette of Southbrldge. Mass., the descent to the ground from a window or other egress opening can be made comfort ably and without exertion. All that is necessary is to seat oneself on a bench which has previously been hooked to the window ledge or other convenient point, and grasp two handles at the sides. Mechanism con cealed In the box underneath plays out the rope from two reels or drums, which are so art.^nged that the rope on each side will t.s played out at a uniform rate to prevent the tilting of the boxing or casing. The gripping tubes at the sides of the box, through which tie ropes pass, permit the con trol of the rate of descent. KlM*d Mr*. CltnUif’i Hand. “It has been my pleasure to meet newspaper reporters in all the cities of America that I have visited since my residence in this country, and but once have I had any occasion to regret my contact with them,” said Rt. Hon. Charles B. Cahusac. “This was in Washington. D. C., when, by some chance that to me is still a dark and unfathomable mystery, a reporter learned that I was presented to Presi dent and Mrs. Cleveland, and that, ig norant of American customs, for it waa the first time that I had been present ed to the executive of a republic, 1 went down on my knees before Mrs. Cleveland and kissed her hand. Imag ine my chagrin the next day. when, upon picking up the paper, my eye fell upon a headline reading. ‘He Kissed Her Hand. A Titled Englishman Kneels Before Mrs. Cleveland.' Now, as I say, I did not know but the cus toms of Europe prevailed here.”—Den ver Republican. A Flo* Natural Harbor. The finest natural harbor in Puerto Rico is at Jobos, on the southeast coast. It is large enough and deep enough to accommodate ships of any draught, but it needs an Improved en trance. In addition to the commercial value of Jobos harbor, it has a strate gic importance not surpassed in this part of the world. It is perfectly shel tered and screened. A naval Seet sta tioned there might block any Euro pean expedition directed toward 3uha, the isthmus canal, or the Pacific coast. Its sttwtegic position in Fsc?§o Rico ’corresponds to that of Malts in