, GUILTY 25
r INNOCENT?
By AMY BRAZIER.
CHAPTER I.
Mr*. Saville of the Court Is not a
oiraaaat woman. People are general
ly rather afraid of her. and. like many
unpleasant people, she usually gets her
own way. Her present Idea is to mar
ry her only son, Sebastian, to her
ciece Barbara Saville. an arrangement
perfectly agreeable to every one et
rrpt Barbara herself—Barbara, with
her rare, wlvhmg Irish beauty, the
be».uty of n fair skin and blue eyes.
*t h very dark lashes and dark hair,
a fare at once charming and provok
ing
But Barbara's sweet-cut mouth is a
bit too firm for her aunt, and Se
bastian has felt his cold blood grow
warm beneath the disdainful smile of
his c ousin.
S >a»t:an Is not a pleasant looking
man—tall and dark, with a b—try,
cynical face and eyes that look cruel.
In she whole of laeinster there is noi
such a pretty girl as Barbata Saville.
•she lives at the Court with her aunt.
ia»d has done so for several years. Lat
terly Mrs. Saville has put on the screw
a little, lor Barbara is twenty, and it
1* time Sebastian married and settled
down; but Barbara tip-tilts her pretty
chin and tosses her dusky head, and
says that to live at the Court all her
life would kill her
It is. indeed, a gloomy spat, falling
into decay, surrounded by dark, neg
lected woods, and a dark, sullen rive;
running through the park.
Mrs Saville s husband has lived hard
in his day. driven a coach with eight
horses, and generally made havoc of
hts patrimony Card play.ng ended
what his eight horse* had tegun. and
hi* only son. Sebastian, is a poor man.
Barbara is an only child, too. Her
fa'her i.3> ..n appointment in Tasma
nia. and Barbara is supposed to have
« fortune. Mr Sacill* had sent her
home to be educated in England, and
then to live at the Court, where the
charming fam. y arrangement of a
marriage between the cousins was an
ones aacret.
The time is November, when all day
kmc the trees drip moisture, and the
fields are soaking and sodden, while
the long struggling street of Port raven
is one sea of mud.
It Is worse than usual today, for a
rattle fair is going on. and the fair
takes place in the street The foot
paths are crowded with cattle, and
droves of panting, terrified sheep are
t id.* J ir.:o group* Young horses led
by halters are being paraded up and
down, and the footpath* being un
available. pedestrians are forced to
fight their way in the middle of the
street, ankle deep in mud. amidst the
confusion of carts and horses, and
animals of si! sorts and kinds.
Walking briskly through the crowd
with an air of being thoroughly used
to it. comes Barbara Ssville. dressed
in a short skirt of Donegal tweed, vith
a Norfolk jacket and a tweed cap on
her dark hair. She carries a walking
stick, and her bright face wears a half
amused. half-contemptuous expression
as she looks at the huirying crowd
ghe has reached the market square,
and here the fair is at its height, and
bargains are going oe briskly. Bar
bara looks pityingly at the scared, tim
id cattle driven to sad fro with such
roagnness- And strange contrast, just
beside the drove of cat tie. heedless of
the turmoil around, stand a little
group, a preacher, with uncovered
head, preaching the Gospel of Christ
•s the fetafisM multitude It is a
sL'sxge scene, and Barbara* face
grows thoughtful The rough faces of
toil-hardened men and women, the pa
tient cattle standing by. and those
mast humble creatures the subdued
donkeys, more used to blows than
kindness.
Then through the crowd comes a
young man. and be Is head and shoul
ders over every one. Hi* hair Is gold
—real gold—end waves in short, crisp
wrav* * Ills fair moustache covers a
sweet, firm mouth, and the eyes that
look at Barbara’s are purple as pan
ska. and full of light now as they meet
the sudden, glad recognition In hers.
“Barbara." aays the ycung giant,
“what are you doing in this crowd?"
Barbara s fare is a study of pleased
surprise.
**1 only walked la from the Court
to post my letter to father." she re
plies. And her dark eyes smile bright
ly as she holds out her hand to him.
1 il take care of you." returns
George Bouvetie: “these fellows are
ao rough 70a mtgnt get nun
And Barbara has bo objection.
Her eye* dance. What doe* it mat
ter that the Sovtnhr *ky is heavy
aad gray? There i* sunshine in the
two glad young hearts, and they laugh
mad they talk together, and make fun
over their little adventure* in the fair,
tike the pair of children they are
They leave the town and walk to
gether along the country road. Sod
den leaves, brown and decaying, lie in
IM:> heap*. It 1* a day calculated to
make any one depressed; but Bar
bara's che*k* are softly flushed; her
eye* are like stars.
"Barbara, when may I speak to your
as*nt?“
Ourgr Bou series tone has grown
serious suddenly, hi* face takes a un
der espresekm
Hers gashes crimson
"Wait till 1 hear from father.
Hearur."* she whisper* "You don't
know Aunt Julia—she would freeze me
with a look: hut if father says yes,
then she can't aay anything "
• But. my darling how can 1 wait?
urges the rcwfig man
Barbara sighs
* Aunt Julia would write *«• borrM
things to father." she says And bei
a|)|Trl. jttlt loach the rough is«<
l|WT( twwtde her.
He laughs
she could say a lot again*
; know. I am in debt, and oi
'jr tbst's against a Wo*: and I
did run n couple o< horses at the Cur
ragh. and lost a lot, too; and my dear
old mother will go about pouring out
her woes to Mrs. Saville, and making
me out to be a black sheep; but I’m
not that. Barbara. I’ve you to work
for now, and I'll chuck the whole thing
up. I’ll have one more plunge, and
then, if 1 win. and the luck's bound to
come my way now. I’ll pay up all
round and marry you, my darling,
with a clean page.’*
So hopefully he speaks, who could
doubt him? Certainly not Barbara.
“You are my good angel, sweet
heart." goes on the man, bending his
fair head. “I know I’ve made a mess
of my life; but it will be all different
now. You won't mind being a poor
man's life, will you, darling?”
“I shouldn't mind anything with
you. George.” she whispers, her beau
tiful face aglow with feeling.
“That's my brave little woman! I’ve
not got muc h, you know. Barbara. The
Grange comes to me at the mother’s
death, and she allows me two hundred
; a year. 1 wish now I had got a pro
fession'—a wistful expression of re
gret softening his eyes as he speaks.
The only son of his mother, and she
was a widow.
Ah. what a story those simple words
contain! George Bouverie is his moth
er's idol, and sorely she moans over
her darling's shortcomings. Her views
are not his views, and she regards with
horror his increasing infatuation for
horse racing, a taste that is a crime in
the eyes of Mrs. Bouverie.
To please her, George sold his race
horse. but took to betting, a fact that
nee i not be known to any one but
: himself.
Only to Barbara he has poured out
his remorse and regrets over himself
and his backslidings. To please her he
will give up everything, and Barbara
is content.
“1 wish I could ask you in to lunch,”
she says naively, as they reach the
gloomy entrance gates of the Court,
heavily shadowed with giant cypress
tree- and dank moss grow- on the
pillars and the stone giillins sur
mounting them.
Georee smiles
"Aunt Julia wouldn't be pleased to
set* me. 1 fancy,” he says, looking
down at her. "I know she wants that
sour Sebastian to marry you—she told
my mother so."
Their hands meet in a lingering
pressure when Sebastian himself ap
pears upon the scene, his face dark
as night, his eyes furious.
"Morning. Bouverie," he begins,
with a curt nod; and turns to Bar
bara. ‘ My mother is looking for you,
Barbara. Have you forgotten we have
an engagement this afternoon?"
Barbara lifts her lovely eyes with
unconcealed scorn.
"My dear Sebastian, you know I told
your mother I could not stand a 10
mile drive la. drink tepid tea at I*idy
Barry's. Not even your company. Se
bastian. could compensate for such an
infliction.”
Sebastian Saville may and does hate
young Bouverie; but the instincts of
hospitality cannot be ignored.
"Won't you come in and have a bit
of lunch. Bouverie?" he says. And
George, who realizes that it means an
other hour of Barbara's society, ac
cepts.
together the three walk up the long
avenue, where gnarled oaks meet over
head. and in the woods at either side
the moss grows deep and soft.
George swings along with his (
*pria*y step, and Sebastian looks with
envy at the young man's splendid fig
ure. He is tall himself, too. but awk
ward. and his face is forbidding.
Barbara walks between the two
men. and Sebastian notices the height
ened color in her cheeks, the radiant
light in her eyes. She does not know
that he can read her secret in her face,
and the knowledge fills him with ang
er. Barbara is to be his wife; no idle
flirtation must come between them;
sbe is to be all his. Her beauty pleases
him. and he knows what Barbara is
ignorant of—that she will be an
heiress.
Barbara's father wished her to be
brought up simply, with no knowledge
of the world's goods to fall to her lot.
So whatever George Bouverie may pos
sess in the way of faults, he is no for
tune hunter—he loves Barbara fur her
own self.
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Saville is a peculiar looking
woman. She is seated in the long
drawing room when Barbara enters
with her two cavaliers, and she greets
G»orge rather coldly, turning immedi
atelv to Barbara.
“You are late, dear. You must dress
Immediately after luncheon; it is such
a long drive to Barrystown.”
“N«*ed I go?” a^ks Barbara, looking
bored.
“My dear. I wish it." Mrs. Saville
-a> decidedly, and turns to George.
How is your dear mother? She looked
but poorly, latterly.”
“I think she is all right.” George re
plies. standing on the faded hearthrug
in his careless grace.
Altogether the Court and its in
ti. ates are gloomy—all except Barbara,
whc.se clear young voice rings through
the rooms.
L«n< neon 13 announced, and Mrs. Sa
ville rite* and puts her jewelled hand
on the arm of George Bouverie.
"You and 1 will lead the way,” she
! aays. with a slow, unpleasant smile.
1 bo two young people like to take
care of each other.”
Ac t;.* y p;«^ across the great vault
• »ton»- hall Mrs Saville looks up at
t:< r'Wden-haired young man at her
1 aid*- and whispers:
You must not covet forbidden fruit,
Mr Bouverie; and 1 think, for your
own sake, it would he well not to
f c otne too often to the Court. Yonr
I mother knows my wishes for Bar
. | barm.”
The blood surges to the very roots
of his hair.
“I understand you, Mrs. Saville,” he
says, in a very low voice; “but has not
Barbara a right to choose?” There is
a passionate pride in the whispered
words.
“Barbara must be kept out of temp
tation.” Mrs. Saville rejoins as they
enter the dining room.
But George Bouverie’s eyes are full
of triumph, for has not Barbara made
her choice already? He flashes a glance
at her as they take their places, and
Barbara’s shy, lovely eyes meet his for
a brief second.
Everything at the Court is damp and
mouldy. The great dining room has
the atmosphere of a vault. A very
small fire burns in the grate, and a
seedy-looktng butler shambles round
the table with his satellite, a beardless
youth imported from the stables,
breathing hard and walking round on
tiptoe with awful and elaborate care
fulness.
The dining table is large; but the'e
is very little on it—an alarming ex
panse of tablecloth and not much else.
Sebastian, fixing his eyeglass firmly,
gravely carves a minute portion off a
joint, so small it will hardly go round.
The butler very carefully pours out a
very minute portion of sherry into
George Bouverie’s glass, while the
scared lad from the stables travels la
boriously round with vegetables.
George does not care about luncheon,
so the scantiness of the repast does not
affect him. Barbara is sitting oppo
site, and he can feast his eyes on the
beauty of her face; while Sebastian’s
unfriendly expression affects him not
at all.
Luncheon over. Mrs. Saville makes
an apology for deserting her guest, for
the carriage has been ordered early,
the drive to Barrystown is long.
"It will only be au revoir,” George
says gaily. “I promised my mother to
take her to the Barry’s affair this af
ternoon. A chrysanthemum show, I
believe.”
It is distinctly annoying, for this
very handsome young man will com
pletely monopolize Barbara.
"You will be rather late. Mr. Bou
verie,” responds Mrs. Saville icily.
“Oh. not at all,” George says pleas
antly; while, with a nod and smile,
Barbara runs off to dress for the party.
“I'll just hop across country and be at
the Grange in half an hour,” George
says gaily. “I wouldn’t disappoint the
mother for the world.”
(To be continued.)
MAKING BOER “REIMS. '*
SUIns Turned Into Thongs for South
African Ox-Wagons.
One of the strangest things which
strikes the eye on a casual visit to a
Boer farm is a curious structure, not
far from the homestead, standing up
against the sky-line like a gigantic
gallows, says the London Mail. There
is a stout, roughly hewn tree plant
ed fair and square in the ground.
From this is a crossbeam, in the cen
ter of which is a large iron hook. Di
rectly underneath this, on the ground,
is a huge square stone about eighteen
inches to two feet in height. But it
is not a gallows. It is simply the
farm “briepaal,” or braying poles,
whereon the oxhides are treated and
turned into those remarkably service
able “reims” or strips of leather thong,
which form an indispensable staple of
the outfit of every South African ox
wagon. This is the method of prepar
ing the "reims.” After the dead oxen
have been skinned the pelts are spread
on the bare ground and allowed to dry
with the under side uppermost to the
scorching hot sun. After some days’
preparation of this kind they are
brought by the Kaffir “boys” to the
braying poles. Having been soaked
in water, or preferably brine and
water, for some little while, and the
hair being still on them, the pelts are
somewhat limp and extraordinarily
elastic. The skin is roughly trimmed
into an oval shape.
The Boer then pulls out a sharp
§:nife. and from the outward edge in
ward commences to cut the skin into
a circular strip of about an inch and
a half in width.
As a rule a full-sized oxhide yields
one long continuous strip one and one
half inches in width and seventy yards
in length. A second hide is treated in
exactly the same way, and the two
ends are knotted together with the
particular form of knot known to
sailors, which the more you pull the
tighter it becomes.
The whole length of 140 yards of raw
hide ribbon is then stretched to its
fullest length. When it is fully
stretched it is looped into a large
hank, which is of the greatest weight.
The Ice Cream Darned.
A few years ago a famous actor was
asked what was the most amusing
thing—not down on the bill—which he
had ever met with in his long theatri
cal experience. He replied that once
J-. a play in which he appeared an ice
cream freezer, presumably filled with
cream, was among the properties dis
played to the audience. It was not
practicable to equip the freezer 'with
real ice cream, so jts place was sup
plied with cotton. One of the actors
had occasion to cross the stage with a
flaming torch, and a spark from the
torch must have fallen into the freezer,
for, to the joy of the audience, which
greeted the casualty with enthusiastic
applause, the ice cream was inconsis
tent enough to burn up then and there,
thus inflicting a serious blow upon the
“realism” of the performance.—New
York Mail and Express.
English Pronunciation.
An English journal recently won
dered whether the pronunciation of
some of the ignorant classes or of
some of the cultivated classes is the
worse. For instance, the groom says:
"’Arry, ’old my ’oss.” But the curate
says: “He that hath yaws to yaw, let
him yaw.” And the doctor’s wife says:
“Jawge, please go to Awthah and aw
dah the hawse, and don’t forget to look
at the fiah.” And the vicar says: “If
owah gracious sovering lady wur-ah to
die.”—Chicago Inter Ocean.
Tommy’s Only Wish.
“What would you like best tomor
row, Tommy, on your birthday?” “I’d
like to see the school burnt down,” re
plied the lad.
SOCIETY IN THE NATION’S CAPITAL
Mrs. Dewey’s Ambition to Become the First
Lady in the Land.
(Washington Letter.)
On account of the announcement of
Admiral Dewey that he is a candidate
for the presidency the name of Mrs.
Dewey has become talked of through
out the world. Mrs. Dewey is no or
dinary woman. Ever since she came
to Washington as a girl of 18 she has
impressed herself upon the social life
of the capital. She has a strong per
sonality. and an intelligence which
fosters ambition. She is one of those
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Hazen was the chosen one, and the
whole country wished her good luck.
The admiral had conquered Montijo,
and Mrs. Hazen was the victor of the
admiral. Mrs. Dewey speaks French,
German and Italian. She is a sister
of that well-known politician, John K.
McLean, who not long ago was pro
prietor of a New York newspaper. The
McLeans always have been ambitious,
politically and socially, and Mrs. Dew
ey’s brother made a financial success
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ster lives in the most mountainous
districts of that rugged island and
places his trap—not a gossamer snare
of airy lightness, but a huge net of
yellow silk from five to ten feet in di
ameter—across the chasms and fis
sures in rocks, says Our Fellow-Crea
tures. The supporting guys of this gi
gantic net, which in all cases is al
most strong enough for a hammock,
arc from five to twenty feet in length,
made of a series of twisted webs, the
SA^SAAAA/\/VVVVVV>/SAAAA^AA^VV\AA/V
of the engineers employed by the gov
ernment are foreigners. An engineer's
salary at the start is from 250 to 300
pesos ($S0 to $100 in United States
gold) per month.
GOLF WAS A KING'S GAME.
James I of England Founded the First
Club.
The Royal Blackheath Golf club is
the oldest golf club in England, and it
also claims to be the oldest existing
golf club in the world. It was founded
by James I. in 1608. For two or three
centuries before that time golf had
been a popular game in Scotland, but
there is no record of any club having
been established prior to the Black
heath club. In 1457 the Scottish par
liament passed an act enjoining that
fute ball and golfe be utterly cryit
SNAP SHOT PICTURES OF NOTABLE PERSONS OF WASHINGTON.
women of whom Washington society
before now has felt the power. Feel
ing her superiority to the majority of
the women who shine in social ranks,
she has not failed to show her con
tempt for small ambitions nor for the
weak and faltering ones. The result
has been that Mrs. Dewey has made
many enemies in the social circles of
Washington, but that goes without
saying. Washington society is a
strange thing, anyway, and the Ameri
can of "the provinces” has rather hard
work to comprehend it. For instance,
the other day a hostess who was not
well versed in all the "ins and outs”
placed side by side at dinner the wife
of the Austrian minister and the Mex
ican ambassador. This good lady had
forgotten entirely that since the Arch
duke Maximilian was shot at Quere
taro, Mexico, there had been a feud
between the Austrians and the Mexi
cans, and officially these two nations
had never exchanged international
courtesies. So there was a row, and
that most severe kind of one—the kind
in which the women are the principal
movers.
Mrs. Dewey is too well versed in the
society methods of the capital to make
a “break” like this, but in a long so
cial career in Washington it is impos
sible that she should not have angered
some persons and made friends of
others. No woman with her strength
of character could do otherwise. As
the “first lady of the land,” Mrs. Dew
ey would have an opportunity to pay
off many old scores. Mrs. Dewey is
not without power, without wealth,
without brains, without ambition—she
has them all, and with them a pleas
ing personality ' and a retention of
good looks which also is pleasing. As
“Wash” McLean's daughter. Miss Mil
dred McLean may have received some
“snubs” from the set of people in the
capital who are known as the "resi
dents.” But her father and mother
were “residents” of a later growth,
and Mrs. Washington McLean has one
of the finest and most hospitable
houses in Washington. As the wife of
Gen. Hazen. Mildred McLean was able
to repay twofold all the snubs that the
McLeans had received when they first
ventured on the stormy sea of Wash
ington society. And the general was a
quiet body out of uniform. When the
general came to New' York and re
porters were sent to interview’ him,
Mrs. Hazen sometime/- w'as present,
and then the general ga*'® a talk which
was of interest to everybody and
harmed nobody. Gen. Hazen always
trusted in the ability of his wife.
When it was announced that the
Widow Hazen was to marry the ad
miral, Ned McLean, the young nephew
of Mrs. Hazen. said to a reporter, "I
tell you that Dewey is in great luck.
(Dewey just at this time was fresh
from the victory of Manila.) Her
household will be a social and intel
lectual center and a salon such as has
not existed since the days of Mme. De
Stael.” The enthusiasm of her nephew
w'as not borne out by the “salon” of
Mrs. Dewey. There are few Mme. De
Staels to a century, but many persons
in Washington have enjoyed the hos
pitality of the wife of the admiral.
Since the widow of Gen. Hazen was
married to the admiral she has held
most of her receptions in the house of
her mother, Mrs. Washington McLean.
It is a large house, and much better
fitted for social functions than the
house w’hich the people of the United
States gave to the admiral.
When the victorious Dewey came
back from the battle of Manila there
were many surmises as to who would
be his bride. It was not long before
the fact was decided. Mildred McLean
out of a paper in Cincinnati. His fath
er was proprietor of the paper before
John R., but did not seem to have the
financial ability of his son. John R.
still owns the Cincinnati paper, but
the paper he bought in New York is
run by other persons.
Mrs. Dewey has large, gray eyes and
is of stout build. Her age is between
40 and 50. A woman is only as old as
she looks. Recently Mrs. Dewey cre
ated a social uproar by taking prece
dence of other women of higher rank
at the president’s reception. She had
a reception on hand herself, and. see
ing an opportunity, paid her respects
to the president out of order, taking
the “pas” of several of her social riv
als. Then she went to her house and
received her own guests. The German
ambassador was a trifle late, just a
minute beyond the time which was
announced on her cards. The result
was that when he applied for admit
tance he was not admitted. There
was an informal consultation of the
diplomatic corps over the matter; but
nothing came of it. The ambassadors
could not press the case after Mr. Mc
Kinley had explained the matter. Mrs.
Dewey is the best-known woman in
Washington, and her family connec
tion can supply many of the details of
politics which the admiral will have to
learn. Mrs. Dewey was a convert to
the Catholic faith, and now it is an
nounced that she has been reconvert
ed to the faith of the Episcopal
church.
Blp Spider Web.
Ceylon is the home of the largest
species of spider that has yet been
made the subject of entomological in
vestigation. This web-spinning mon
whole being of the diameter of a lead
pencil. As might be imagined, this
gigantic silken trap is not set for mos
quitoes, flies and pestiferous gnats, but
for birds, gaudy moths and elegantly
painted butterflies, some of the latter
having a spread of wing equal to that
of a robin or a blue jay.
YOUNG MEN’S CHANCES
Far Professional Work la Nicaragua
Are Slim.
In answer to inquiries by a New
York correspondent as to the field for
American skill and labor afforded in
Nicaragua. Consul Donaldson, of Man
agua, sends the following informa
tion: As teachers and professors in
government and other schools in Nic
aragua. there is really no opening for
our young graduates. Salaries here
are insignificant and customs so dif
ferent that Americans have never
proved successful. The salary of a
principal here is 30 pesos, or about
$17, per month. American physicians
and surgeons are successful here, but
no part of the world is more crowded
with them than the large towns of
Nicaragua. Hundreds of the native
young men study medicine in the Unit
ed States and return here to practice.
They understand better their own dis
eases, customs and people than a for
eigner could, and the majority of the
people prefer them. Dentists, however,
are scarce and whenever an American
dentist comes he does a good business
and can charge remunerative prices.
Engineers of all kinds are the most
successful of any professional men. in
these tropical countries. Very few na
tives follow that vocation, and most
OX-HIDE TOSSING BY BOER SOLDIERS.
Here Is a picture which shows the
Boers having fun in camp before Lady
smith at the time when the siege was
going pretty well their way. As an
English correspondent has pointed out,
the popular tendency to represent the
Boer as a “soldier saint’ ’is somewhat
without foundation in actual fact, for
the rough and rugged young burgher
of the veldt is about as boisterous and
uncouth an individual as one could
come across. The picture shows one of
the Boers’ favorite methods of passing
the time while in laager. This game is
known as ox hide tossing. To carry
out the game a fresh hide is taken and
held tight by a number of men, while
one of their number is captured and
placed on it. The victim is then toss
ed up in the air, as in the schoolboy
fashion of “blanket tossing.” Some
times, it is true, a serious accident oc
curs.
downe. and nocht usit.” A similar act
was passed in May. 1491. The Royal y
and Ancient Golf club at St. Andrews
is one of the most famous in the king
dom. It was instituted in 1754, a sil
ver cup having been played for in the
May of that year. In 1834 William IV
became patron of the club and ap
proved of its being in future styled
“the Royal and Ancient Golf club of
St. Andrews," and presented a gold
medal to be played for annually.—
Collier’s Weekly.
CAPETOWN STREET RAILWAYS
Cars Are Made la Amerira. the Iroa
Posts In Eaglaad.
J. G. Stowe, consul general of the
United States at Cape Town. South
Africa, reports to his government that
the street railways of Cape Town have
track mileage of twenty-five miles,
that their employes number 300, that
they have fifteen single-deck motor
cars, thirty-two double-deck and eight
trailer cars in use. The lines run to
the suburbs and are extended to the
docks. The cars are all made in
America. The single deckers have 4
large platforms in front and rear, with
roomy seats for the accommodation
of smokers. Trailers (open cars) with
seats running crosswise are attached
to the double deckers morning and
evening to accommodate the increased
traffic. All the cars, except the trail
ers. have a middle aisle, with seats on
each side holding two persons. The
upholstering of the seats is in cane,
and is always neat, and the color of
the cars (yellow) is kept bright and
fresh. The “fourteenth amendment’*
to the United States constitution does
not apply there, but as the English
people are kind to the blacks, no dis
tinction is made on the cars. New
cars have been lately ordered from the
United States to serve the increasing
population caused by the exodus of
foreigners from the Transvaal and the
large numbers of soldiers in the city,
who, at half price, are good patrons
when off duty or riding to and from
the various camps. As most of the
merchants, clerks and government offi
cials live out of the city proper, the
tram lines are well patronized. No
passes or free tickets are furnished.
Consul-General Stowe reports also
that, outside of the Philippines, there
is not a city that has as large a popu
lation of Malays as this one. They
are a pleasure-loving people, and Sat
urdays and Sundays are devoted to
pleasure, principally picnics and fish
ing. They are good patrons of the
tram lines. The charges are high, 6
cents being the regular rate for a dis
tance of from two to three miles.
Eight miles, the extent of the longest
line, costs 36 cents.
Not as It Should Be.
Chicago News: The Parson—Learn
to be content, my good man. The little
mouths are never sent without food to
feed them. The Laborer (father of
ten)—Ar. parson, but the mouths aro
sent to my home and the food to yours.
A Sage Reply.
Teacher—A man bought three pounds
of meat for 36 cents, a can of tomatoes
8 cents and some potatoes for 5 cents.
Now what does that make? Bright
Scholar—Soup.
Particular* Desired.
Treetop—“A dollar for pulling one
tooth?” Dentist—“Yes; you took
gas.” Treetop—“How much a thou
sand do you charge for that?”—Har- )
lem Life. I
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