..guilty®
INNOCENT?
Ey AMY BRAZIER.
m ^
•■h.utek \ ,
’ *■»» bippeM
‘r;* “»i h r. i,, um«
2:'.*—v* ■>'«* *«'«■
■.« through
44 «»n ir t» r o’,4o Jotuu thr
•ro.4. »U4 ,h. „1. fl„
**> * t. , mag:.
tier »ad #t-r> und. uiUr to l»t
Mai mm
«a the bank r-.f * small. -a*,..
< rw* •T> ^ over th.» counter at
a rtriBj* er®, * a TIm> baUk
iMWgiT i* »to -ping over a prostrate
t~* *" *> of *le cashier, limp !l
and t-as*«»ihu
That th,»r# ha* • **n an outrage is
p.ata to the ■ mm o, *» understanding.
T-* ?J**r is stresn *ith papers, and a
•tool la overt arped There mast have
Uern n <*«sp Tet Straggle before the
young n*B u» ui rpo** red. The
pis'e *• a r< . .a- m r»- k At first lh*> t
general op.;., t » that the cashier Is j
4eid~ mut<f#-r# d nw •? probably. There
is a heavy fa n* to- of »om»* drug.
Mr Ke, y. t:.# bank manager, lifts
an a* *eu face.
'It must 4-ave e*o very quickly
done' j hag *j t. I. fi th#- bank ten
tmnules! | *j. at my lunch, and
• hen 1 got bat i found Grey like
this*'*
■ Ha* tar tm» gone for a doctor?”
Mr flat .U# pota the quest!ua at he
stand* U.- a.t< 4ii uii the livid, in- .
srct.be fa<e of the hank clerk
‘Give Lite air « j> a bis collar." he
•ays. 4 nl glance* around on the sen**
of confus.oo th- monrj lying on the
floor, -fle book* the
Sebastian stoops suddenly and picks I
ttp a c teqoe off the floor Georg** Bou- 1
were m scrawled a rots the bark of It.
Wiiton a aord he bands the cheqje
to the bank manager remarking:
~Mr Bouiere may be able to throw
some light on this. 1 me: him com
ing out at the bank about a quarter of
an boir ago He ran at least S3y If
everything was right then."
Where Mr B -u\**ri* now T"
"Gone home. 1 ?*ncjr. He was wir- J
lag off a large sum of money at the j
poat-fb e when I met him ”
Mr Kelly turns unite as his eyes
meet those at Sebastian
-J go not know if anything has been
taken ” be says very low. still chafing
away at the limp hands of Mr. Grey.
Then the doctor hurries in and makes
an examination
‘The man ts not dead, he has been
chloroformed. ‘
I-:* is the »erdirt and the news
gun* out to the little kno* of people
netatde Not only has the cashier been
ehlorofcrmed but the bank has been
robbed do far has been ascertained
1' 4 *UB.i<'. ■■
It ts a very clever robbery, evident
ly well planned and carried out sue- i
resafelly during the time the manager
was at bis lunch Nothing further
can be cnown till Mr. Grey recovers
ronsrlocsneas. The cashier, who is a
very uninteresting young man. tie
rum** all at on<e an object of excite
ment and disruaaiun and through the
length and breadth of Portraven the
news goes like wildfire.
CHAPTER VI.
**It was a very near thing indeed. *
the doctor say*, when at last he suc
ceed* la restoring Mr Grey. “Tbi*
young man ha* a weak heart, and very
Utile mere would have finished him "
As it Is. the cashier lie* limp and lit - ’
iff from the effects of chloform. by
whom administered it were hard to
say
Sebastian Ssvilie watches eagerly,
hungrily, while Mr Grey's dazed sen
se* >me bark, and he casts terrified
glance* round.
"Them, now yon are all right " say* !
the bank manager nervously uad im- '
patiently
He is anxious to had out if the
cashier can give any account of the as
aaul! upon him. aay clue to the per
petrator of the outrage.
A couple of poli< '«wb stand by. Mr. >
Greg s eyes turn toward* them almost
J»pJ;i" *■ L* u».%* ly
He must have got a terrible shock
to be ao unnerved and shaken
“Mow. Mr. Grey, try and give us
rome account of thi* mystery. Von
must know something ,* Mr. Savin*
saj. "E»ery nummi * delay give*
the thief time to get off. It seei»j»
from the hasty m*p> ’><*» made by Mr. I
Kelly that over a hundred pound, have I
been taken “
The in Jared man * t»P* writhe, and a
damp sweat stands out on his fore*
head he lifts two shaking hands
“He triad to murder m” he gasps
almost inarticulately. “I was all atone,
and he sprang over the counter’**
-Who*" aekr Mr. haville. with des
perate earnest news Quick! do you
know who It was?**
The caahier s face turns a then he
has not yet recovered by any m au
Ifis eyen rove anxiously round
Mr Greg, you are losing time/* the
manager says “ft is of the greaiest
Importance that yonr statement should
he made perfectly Hear .**
• | will tell all I kaow. the young
ah tapers with diffculty. "You
hod gone to your lunch. Mr. Kelly, it
on* very ff .net. about two ©‘Hock, a
«tmc very fen people are about I
oas vetting ta the ledger when the
bonk door opened and a sun cam*- in.
He had • small bag in his hand. He
111 niat-if n chcffue for payment, it
was for five pounds He said be would
have if in gold, and I tamed to get it
far him This is God s truth Mr. Kel
ly. In n second he sprang over the
«w rater, seined me by the collar, chok
ing rne. We Struggled desperately. hut
I could not call out—! was choking.
And then he stuffed s handkerchief
aonked with chloroform in my morth
He hHd it there. 1 do not know any
^Hc shivers as he speak* and rovers
his ghastly ter* with his hands
ftetmatiaa Kuvill* hands forward.
Who was the */»!“ He asks the
guest ion intently, earnestly—
Air Grey lifts his head.
It was George Bouverie.”
1 knew It." Mr. Saville says quiet
y. "I saw him coming out of the
'oink, und immediately after dispatch
money by tH* graph. It was a bold
robbery indeed. Now. Air. Kelly,
w hat are you going to do?"
Mr. Kelly's fa. e looks grey with ter- '
ror.
I cannot believe it!" he exclaims. !
orge Bouverie! The thins; seems to
oie impossible. Mr. Grey!”—fixing
st< rn eyes upon the drooping figure of
the cashier. "Do you swear that Mr.
Bouverie drugged >ou and robbed the
bank? Before God. is this the truth?"
“Yes. it is the truth; I am prepared
to swear it!" The cashier's tones are
steady enough now. He looks Mr.
Kelly straight in the face. "I did not
know the bank was robbed; I only
know- for certain that George Bouverie
attacked and drugged me.”
"He has been financially embar
rass* -d." Mr. Soville says. "He has
be. n in desperate straights for
money! ”
“I know." admits Mr. Kelly reluc
tantly. remembering a passionate re
quest from young Bouverie to be al
lowed to overdraw his account. But.
s'ill from money difficulties to a bank
robbery was a wide and awfu’ gulf.
Mr. Grey is examined and cross-ex
amined; he sti. ks to his statement in
an unshaken manner.
"Thi> is terrible’” groans Mr. Kelly.
"To think young Bouverie should sink
to an act of burglary! it will kill his
mother!"
Mr. Saville prepares to depart.
"It is sad indeed; but that young
man is steeped to the lips in turf
transactions more or less discreditable.
I suppose you w-ill have a warrant
made out immediately?”
He lowers his eyes to conceal the
look of triumph. Branded as a crim
inal. Barbara can no longer think of
George Bouverie!
The bank manag“r sighs and passes
his hand across his forehead.
"1 suppose it will have to be done,”
he says slowly; "but, Mr. Grey. I
! could almost believe you the victim of
a hallucination!"
Sebastian laughs.
"Hallucination can not chloroform a
man or rob a bank.”
"I mean." said Mr. Kelly, "that he
might have been mistaken—he might
have fancied It was Bouverie.”
Mr. Saville holds out the cheque he
had picked up on the floor of the
bank.
"This Ls conclusive evidence. This
is the identical cheque Mr. Grey was
giving gold for at the moment he was
attacked 1 cannot see the slightest
loophole for doubt. I myself can
swear to having met George Bouverie
running hastily down the steps of the
hank, carrying a small bag. and ten
mmuteg after saw him handing in a
pile of gold at the postofflee. Let him
account for that money being in his
possession."
Mr. Grey sits white and listless, ner
roi.-ly clasping and uacla.-ping his
i hands
"1 feel 111.” he says, looking at the
j doctor, who has turned his back and
1 stands in pale consternation.
George Bouverie a thief! Impossible!
The do<-tor has known him since he
was born, and now to hear that he has
sunk ao low U appalling! He feels
stunned yet. he remembers the young
man's altered look of care that sat so
oddly on the young face. During those
anxious weeks of Mrs. Bouverie's ill
ness he had noticed George, often find
ing him sitting moody and depressed.
"Poor, poor lad; if he had only
made a dean breast of it to me!" says
kindh old iMwtor Carter to himself,
I would have.helped him only too
gladly.”
Be! fa< r are fads. and. within an
| hour two constables are driving rap
i Uy tomaru.-> the f»range on an outside
car. am! one of them holds a warrant
for the arrest of George Bouverie.
The warrant is signed by two magis
tral > one of whom is Sebastian Sa
' !e who never in all his life signed
Li n&m* wir;i nidi alacrity before, for
. «e downfall of hia enemy is com
: plete*
CHAPTER VII.
'I i.f t . nir.g sunlight is slanting
the lawn, making a glory of
the dancing daffodils; and the birds
are Holding a concert that commenced
with the dawn this morning. Such a
render, loving spring evening.
The sun sh;n»s in at the windows of
the Grange, and one shaft rests lov
inglv on the fair head of George Bou
i verie
Mr* Bouverle looks at the sunshine
and at the fa -e of her handsome son.
and smiles as she gazes. Her own eyes
are very sweet and patient.
hne is very happy this evening. Be
i tween her and George stands a tea
table, and George is laughing and
pouring out the tea. desperately par
I ticular as to sugar and cream, waiting
on bis mother with gentle courtesy.
Her pale cheeks have taken a pink
tinge soft as the blush on a girlish
face. She w’ears lilac ribbons in her
filmy lace cap. and lace ruffles fall over
her slender hands.
In upon this homelike scene stalk3
h trouble dark and horrible.
The maid, with a pale face, opens the
door and stands trembling. looking
from her mistress to the face of the
young man who is so calmly helping
himself to a second cup of tea.
“Well. Mary, what is it?” he asks,
gailv tos. ing a lump of sugar to a fox
terrier sitting at his feet.
“Ob. Mr. George. I don't know!”
stammers the girl. “It is something
dreadful, sir. There is a sergeant and
H constable in the ball!”
George lays down his cup. but no
Ides of the truth rises in his mind.
"The bank robbed? That is odd!
But I am not a magistrate. What do
they want me for?” he says. “I’ll
just step out and ask the sergeant
what it mean*.”
But before be can leave the room
there is the sound of a little confusion
in the hall, and Doctor Carter, with a
grave, desperate face, hurries In and
goes straight to Mrs. Bouverle.
"My dear old friend, there is some
monstrous mistake! There, don’t get
frightened, the whole thing is impos
sible—a travesty of justice, that’s
what it is, a driveling idiot making a
statement like a lunatic! You'll set
them right in ten minutes, George,
won't you?"—a shade of anxiety creep
ing into his voice.
"What is it?" asks Mrs. Bouverle.
sitting up. pale and trembling. "Doc
tor Carter, what is it all about?”
He pats the trembling hands he
holds.
"My dear lady, leave it to George It
is all nonsense—the blundering Saville
and that foci of a bank clerk!"
"But I don’t understand! Whet has
my son to do with it?" asks Mrs. Con
vene. getting frightened.
"Sure, I'm telling you!" eries the
doctor, his natural tongue getting the
upper hand. "It s<*enis some one
drugged the clerk and robbed the bank
and the fool, dazed with chloroform,
has saddled the crime on George!”
"On me?" George exclaims, a ttush
of Indignation dyeing his forehead.
"How dare any one say such a thing?"
"They have dared!" retorts the doc
tor furiously. “Mrs. Bouverie, George
can explain everything; you mustn't
excite yourself. George, my boy, you
were at the bank this morning?”
"Yes; I cashed a cheque," George
says, his face growing stern.
"Yes; afterwards Saville saw you
wiring off a hundred pounds—your
money, of course; but you’ve just got
to tell them that. And. look her?-”
Doctor Carter 3tops short at the look
that has come over the face of George
Bouverie—a stricken, conscious look.
"A hundred pounds! Oh. George,
what does it mean?" cries his mother,
weeping now in her fear.
George gives one look at her. and
then his eyes meet the troubled, in
quiring gaze of the doctor.
"My boy. my boy. surely you’ll set
it right?" the old man stammers.
George Bouverie’s face is as .white
as death. He touches Doctor Carter
on the arm. "I will go and speak to
the sergeant,” he says, in a hard, cold
voice.
(To be continued.)
Experiment in Municipal Music.
Another new departure In the way
of municipal enterprise has to be re
ported from the progressive parish of
Battersea. For some time past the
members of the dominant party on
the local vestry have been of opinion
that open-air concerts in the summer
months given at the expense of the
county council, ought to be supple
mented by similar entertainments dur
ing that part of the year when the
state of the weather precludes any
public gathering in the park or on
Clapham common. The assent of the
vestry to the use of the town hall on
Lavender hill having been obtained,
arrangements are now being made for
a series of free concerts to be given
weekly in that building, and yester
day a public notice was issued which
expresses an opinion that there must
be many ladies and gentlemen in the
parish who would be glad to assist
the scheme with vocal or instrumental
music. All such artists are invited to
communicate with the vestry clerk.—
London Leader.
KfiW- of 1801.
Mr. H. M. Beecher of Prospect street
has in his possession a copper plate
stipple memorial engraving which pos
sesses more than ordinary interest,
says the New Haven Leader. It rep
resents a monument which consists of
two parts: the base, or lower part, is
a large, cubical block of marble,
which is surmounted by a tapering
shaft of the same material. I’pon a
part of the base is inscribed: “Sa
cred to the memory of the illustrious
G. Washington.’’ Above the inscrip
tion is an excellent likeness of the
“father of his country," and in the
foreground there are three figures,
standing at the monument, two of
them representing weeping friends,
the third being an allegorical figure
representing Hope, pointing upward.
On the shaft is the conventional fig
ure of a cherub. The work is most
exquisitely done, and hears name and
date: “7'. Dark, sculptor, 1801, Bos
ton”—two years after Washington’s
death.
The word “ecumenical” is a poser
to many of the newsboys who sell
papers in the vicinity of Carnegie hall.
Sonic wisely disergard it. 7'hose who
do attempt it generally call it the
4 economical” conference, while “all
inental" and “elementar are terms
frequently used. In its broadest sense
the ecumenical world is the inhabited
world. The root of the word is
“house.” The term ecumenical, as ap
plied to a religious gathering, dates
from Roman days. When a council
was to be convened that represented
the entire Roman empire, both east
ern and western, it was called an
4 Ecumenical Council.” Hence an ecu
menical conference on foriegn mis
sions is a conference called to consider
methods of christianizing the non
ehristian portion of the inhabited
world.—New York Mail and Express.
The Czar'n RilintM>nnr«.
Queer stories about the czar are cir
culating in Germany. Dinner was kept
waiting recently in the Winter Pal
ace at St. Petersburg owing to the un
expected disappearance of the imperial
pair. T hey had taken an afternoon
sleighride accompanied only by a lady
in waiting, and an indiscreet witness
declared that he had seen the sleigh
standing near the edge of a lonely
wood outside the city, with the two
ladies in it laughing like children,
while the czar of all the Russias
hopped about on one leg in the snovr,
tlopping his arms and croaking like a
crow.
Tag* on Children.
The children of the poor in Japan
are always labeled, in case they should
stray away from their homes while
their mothers are engaged in domestic
duties.
A LETTER FROM THE FRENCH CAPITAL
The French Do Everything Just
the Opposite from Americans.
The following letter is from a young
American who is one of the advance
guard at the Paris exposition. It is
needless to say that the writer is a
close and critical observer. His ob
servations are keen enough to be of
interest to others besides the friend to
whom the missive was addressed:
My Dear Friend: Without preamble
I forward you the results of my scout
•ng expedition in behalf of our party
cf Exposition visitors. 1 am sorry
now to have accepted the job. I have
not seen very much so far. and the
skin left on my anatomy amounts to
very little. Tell our friends to bring
along a barrel or two of well assorted
money.
Their main '•graft,” if I can use this
house r.o matter how sick her hus
band is. In the poorer classes the
husband works at his trade, and the
wife at her own unless there are too
many children to take care of. By the
way, the Parisian woman seldom
nurses her own children, she sends
them to the country to be raised by
peasant women until they are two or
three years old. A Parisian woman is
seldom, if ever, seen in the parks nurs
ing her offspring.
Any one seeing a woman carrying
heavy bundles in the streets may offei
assistance and it will be accepted.
Similarly the Parisian woman will sel
dom refuse to be escorted with an um
brella when it rains. Umbrellas are
freely offered in this way on top of
place the bronze one removed years
ago on account of structural altera
tions.—London Express.
NOTICE WOMEN’S CLOTHES.
Men May Pretend They Do Not. but
Farts Are Against Them.
“It may be true that men don’t ap
pear to notice women's clothes,” said
a woman the other day, “but all the
masculines of my acquaintance have
a very unpleasant way of remember
ing the things I wear, nevertheless.
The other evening one of my friends
came to se me. He is a taciturn in
dividual, who. should I come into the
drawing room to greet him some even
ing clad in a Paquin gown of satin em
broidered with pearls and trimmed
with duchesse lace, would make no
comment whatever. “Well, on this
particular evening I had on my new
spring hat, which is really an old one
completely metamorphosed, I thought,
and I was betrayed very foolishly into
asking him how he liked it. “Isn't it
pretty?” I asked, secure in my belief
column, and the bullet is on the in
side.’ The man who was sh*ot didn't
fancy the joke at all and became more
tearful than ever. He took off his coat
and then his vest, and then pulled his
suspenders off his shoulders. The
bands fell over his arms, but the straps
remained stationary where the leather
wedge was. One of the fellows gave
a jerk, the victim gave a howl and the
suspenders came down, bullet and all,
for the latter had become imbedded in
the leather and had pinned his sus
penders to his back as neatly as if they
had grown there. The victim was
immensely relieved, as you may well
imagine, but I don’t know that he was
so lucky after all, as he is now serving
a long term in the Louisiana peniten
THE STREET OF NATIONS AT PARIS—PAVILIONS OF THE FOREIGN POWERS.
»„U0. Of ITALY TU««!V UN1TCD STATES AUST^t* CRCAT BRITAIN OE.MAHV ■O.T.CITUM* W»- J««UOH » J«
slang word, is to do everything wrong
side out, probably to mislead strang
ers. As a consequence It is very safe
rule to reverse all the home rules
while you live in Paris. I have com
piled a whole book of examples to
substantiate this statement, and will
call your attention to the most strik
ing.
When w’e take to the right in the
streets, they take to the left, and vice
versa; hence the danger of all kinds of
collisions. I received a half a dozen
bumps before I learned that. As a
matter of etiquette the Frenchmen
salute the la-dies first, w'hile we await
their good pleasure in this respect. In
their books the table of contents is
at the end instead of being at the be
ginning. The advertisements in the
newspapers are always to be found in
the last pages and the editorials in
the first column of the first page. Their
newspapers are no newspapers at all;
they are journals, their magazines are
reviews and vice versa.
The best places in the theaters are
in the balcony, not in the parquet. The
matinee takes place at 11 o'clock a. m..
not in the afternoon. In this they are
probably right, as "matinee" means
morning. Yet they never say "good
morning,” but “good day.”
By the way, all the clocks in the res
taurants near the theaters are half an
hour in advance of the standard time;
this is intended to force you to leave
half of your dinner untouched, thus
saving money to the crafty restaura
teur.
In America you never pay for thea
trical programs, soap, light and towels
in the hotels (this is called service),
and napkins in the restaurants; in
Paris you will have to pay for all these
things and many others, among them
bath robes, soap and towels you call
for in the bathhouses.
If you have the misfortune of being
“pinched” by a “Sergent de ville,” ho
will not arrest you, but will simply
take your name and address. The sub
poena will cost you four cents by mail,
but you will have to demonstrate that
you are not guilty. On the other hand
your lawyer will have the privilege of
closing the case. Should tine and im
prisonment be ordered by the court,
time will be given to settle the tine
and to constitute yourself a prisoner.
As a matter of course this applies only
to misdemeanors.
In case of drunkenness the saloon
keeper who sold the last drink is
prosecuted as the main offender. I was
furnished this information by a promi
nent jurist, having had no personal
experience.
The American girl is comparatively
tree, losing this freedom as Sion as
she gets married. The French girl
never sees a beau alone, but does as
she pleases after her marriage. An
elopement in France is useless, even if
the girl is of age, because no one can
perform the marriage ceremony with
out the consent of the parents or
guardians. A girl who is of age can
obtain this consent by process of law
by summoning twice her parents or
guardians at an interval of six months
before the court which decides the
case. Girls, however, occasionally
elope so as to compromise their repu
tation and thus compel their family to
give their consent. An elopement not
followed by marriage is called by the
facetitious Parisians "a marriage at
the City Hall of the Twenty-first Ar
rondissement,” there being only twen
ty arrondissements or districcts in
Paris. Some 500 or 600 children are
weekly born in Paris from these
unions contracted with the left hand.
Presentation is not necessary in the
French capital; In fact, you enter into
conversation in public places with any
one you meet. But if you present
some one you are absolutely respon
sible for him. A lady has no right to
refuse recognition to a gentleman who
has been presented to her; presenta
tions, how'ever, must have been pre
viously assented to by her. The hus
band is responsible for a breach of
etiquette committed by his wife. The
American who is married supports
his wife. The Frenchman makes her
work. If he is in business she keeps
his books and acts as cashier. The
aristocratic French woman even keeps
the omnibuses and tramways, when
the sun is too hot or when it rains. To
America such offer would appear im
pertinent. When a vehicle is stranded
in the streets of Uncle Sam’s domin
ion the passers-by generally let the
driver get out of it as best he can.
The Parisians of all classes do the re
verse: rich and poor, young and old
push at the wheel. If two men fight,
everybody takes a part in the fray,
even jumping on the Sergeant de ville
who attempts to restore peace. The
fun of it is that most of the time the
fighters do not know what the whole
business is about, and many a poor
devil gets a thrashing simply because
he happens to be there.
Paris has twenty mayors who are no
mayors at all. The Prefect of the
Seine, appointed by the government, is
the real chief of the municipality.
Paris pays a police force amounting to
21,000 men, including the municipal
guard, and the regiment of firemen,
but the government alone represented
by the prefect commands this force.
The same rule applies to all the muni
cipal institutions of the French capi
tal; the city pays, the government
rules.
There are a thousand other dissimi
larities between the French and the
Americans; it would require a dozen
letters to make mention of them. What
is the end for us seems to be the'
I
— — — —
that he didn't know a hat from a thim
ble. “I don’t like it as well as I did
last year, when it was trimmed with
yellow crepe and quills,’ was his as
tonishing response, so unexpected a
response, indeed, that I nearly fell
off the steps and became suddenly
painfully aware of a rip in one finger
of my glove. Any man that could rec
ognize a chapeau after many days and
when it was so greatly changed. I rea
soned, must take in at a glance the
smallest detail of my toilet, and I in
stantly became nervous and began to
pat my hair and arrange my frills as
women do when they're conscious.
That’s the reason I believe that men
notice details when they don’t appear
to, for if this dignified man would re
member a trifling thing like a last
year’s hat. why wouldn't his fellows?”
—Pittsburg Dispatch.
MAN’S SUSPENDERS
Fastened to His Back by a Bullet From
a Revolver.
“I’ve heard of curious methods of
saving lives,” said a veteran detective
at headquarters the other day, "but 1
believe the oddest I ever ran across
was in New Orleans one Mardi Gras.
I had gone with other detectives from
all over the country to look out for
crooks who usually flock there carni
val time. One morning I was walking
HAPPY JUNE DAYS.
commencement for them. To quote
only an example, “our school com
mencement" is called by them the end
of the school year.” Our working
week ends Saturday afternoon; they
work until Sunday night late, and if
they rest at all take their vacation on
Monday. The workingmen ate paid
on Monday, which they call "St.
Lundl” (Holy Monday), because they
seldom work on pay day.
XVhere Byron \V»i Born.
Another birthday of Byron has just
passed, and still the long promised
memorial to mark the spot is conspicu
ous by its absence. The place of the
poet’s birth is the corner of Holies and
Oxford streets. A large drapery em
porium covers the site, and the busi
ness stationery bears the poet’s busts
in the right corner. But Byronites
look in v&in for a marble bust outside,
which it was understood would re*
down Newspaper Row, which is on
Camp Street, when the crowds which
were gathering to view’ the parade
were startled by a pistol shot coming
from one of the banks. A second later
a man dashed out of the door and
made a bee-line for a paper store
across the way and was immediately
lost from sight. With a couple of po
licemen and a lot of reporters I went
into the bank and there looked for the
dead man. But the fellow who was
shot, though he considered himself as
good as dead, wasn’t a corpse. He wras
nearly scared to death, though. He
was surrounded by employes of the
bank, and when asked where he was
shot, said he didn't know. We looked
him over but there wasn’t a trace of
blood to be found, yet he declared he’d
been hit in the back somewhere and
began to cry. A reporter discovered a
small hole in the coat. ’‘Here it is,’
said he, ‘shot plumb through the spinal
tiary for embezzlement, and the man
who shot him is, thanks to the pe
culiar justice dealt by Louisiana juries,
a free man today, but out some $800.
His victim was a clerk in a bank and
had got hold of his money on pretense
of investment and had spent it all.
The only way he could get even was to
shoot.”—New York Mail and Express.
DEALING WITH SAVAGES.
Missionary Took Desperate Chances to
Christianize Cannibals.
A very remarkable story was to!d
by Senator Vest, of Missouri, a day or
two ago. “The most pathetic scene I
ever witnessed in my life,” said he to
a Washington Post reporter, “was the
outcome of a very singular and curi
ous condition of affairs. Up in Brit
ish North America there was a tribe
of Indians under the control of native
sorcerers, and practicing all manner
of savage rites. Among other things,
these Indians were cannibals. A
Scotchman. named Duncan, went
among them, and at the risk of his
own life civilized them. He taught
them every dogma of our religion ex
cept the Lord's supper. His great work
had been to win them from cannibal
ism. to teach them that capturing and
then roasting and devouring human
beings was barbarous. He was, there
fore, afraid to acquaint them with the
sacrament of the Lord's supper, be
cause they would, in turn, ask him
why it was wrong to eat each other
and yet a part of religion to eat their
god. He doubted his ability to ex
plain the matter satisfactorily to their
untutored minds, and so, for fear that
they would regard him as an imposter
and return to their barbarous ways, he
let the matter rest. This was not sat
isfactory.” continued Senator Vest, as
he told the story, “to the governor of
the province of Vancouver or the bish
op of the English church, both of
whom demanded that he should either
administer the sacrament or else give
up his lay ministry in the church.
Duncan explained the reasons which
had actuated him. but they were not
accepted as sufficient. He appealed to
the highest authorities of the Church
of England and was overruled. He
went back to his Indians and asked
them if they would accompany him to
Alaska, where they could be under a
flag that guaranteed religious free
dom. Almost the entire tribe of 1200
Indians decided to follow him. When
I was there the Indians were taking
the doors from off their houses, the
sashes front their windows, and their
scanty furniture from their rooms, pre
paratory to sailing away in their
great canoes, in order to start life over
again in a new country. It was, as I
have said, the most pathetic scene 1
ever witnessed. It was more than this.”
added Senator Vest, speaking with al
most vehement emphasis. “It was the
most conspicuous example of relig
ious prejudice and fanaticism I have
ever known.”
Dog Saved the Boy's Life.
The large pet dog of Charles Hager
man of Irishtown, Adams county,
saved the life of his 3-year-old son in
a singular manner while the two were
at play in the yard. The child had
a chain fastened around its body and
attached to the neck of the dog. They
were strolling about, when the boy
accidentally fell into the cistern, con
taining several feet of water. The
dog, bracing himself for the shock,
pulled on the chain with sufficient
force to hold the child’s head above
the water. The pitiful cries of the boy
were heard by a young lady residing
with the family, who hastened to the
scene, and rescued the little fellow
from his perilous position.—Baltimore
Sun.
The Match Trust Spreading Out.
The match trust has several factor
ies in Europe, and has now absorbed
an important establishment in South
America.
Marriage In Turkey.
In Turkey any youth and maiden
who can walk properly and can un
derstand the necessary religious ser
vice are allowed to marry.
