GUILTY S?
INNOCENT?
By AMY BRAZIER.
-—jm—fi oatiaa^.i
mf hurt I % agitated. lay* bi>
(after * L<-a*«l .
!• caer.tei
Ibis hJr tW *'*7 wors*
the arrjtl of* *r«* th** W,U
At itt* if hr t--*" r‘ ’r'
p.toa >l> tins JTOU (in bear
.Jr**- #!)»“'
i head u W^f her lipi
■f- • (Mat X« ' Then with •" «f
^ rB,*r* heraHf and look* Mead
Ill at her non. who must know hua
eeif that hi* raaae haa been loaf.
ilia counsel ul» with bent head and
e *t4y facie There i« a mystery tn the
P *rtmren bank robbery that even he
■news. indeed. the
p''saner m the hardened criminal so
***** described by the judge a* he
tibcadiered oat to the Jmry the »m af
jse law for the rich and another for
the puor.
There ta not kttf to wait- The Jury
«*»*• hark u> ibeir box with their
mmds made up
“Guilty! **
Etery one expected It. bnt ye: a
thnll aa of horror shudder* over the
crt»s l as the Wind sighs and wares
«.eer a held of con—a ware of fee!mg
t-at aaakes haalf felt. Then, for the
ftr*t t me despair, dark and terrible,
w hit cam the prisoner's far e. He hear*
iu* mother * broken utterance of hts
*•»**. and his eyes tarn to her with a
,>-**.00 of regret, then he nerves him
self to roretee hts sentence.
Evan Bahamian flsrllb tarns cold at
he listens.
Tha j-dge la a atera Judge, and de
t -mined not to let the pr.sober * po
s os stand In tha way of being made
aa example of.. Fire years' penal serv
itude a the least hr can give—fire
years la which this hardened sinner
w.U have ume to repent Before he
prjttannma Use sentence he drlirers a
homily an the sin of gambling, the
yearly inodmaeg da at bett ag on er-1
«ry race. He point* out how. in this
cant, it gar brought the prisoner at the
bajr to tempts*ion and sin. and inally
pr'*> the awful position in which he now
^ stasis. And then the dreadful sen
ten — fire years' penal servitude; and
George Boa ter ir white ms death, like
a man going to the scnBold. goes from
the dock out of the sight of hi* fellow
Hi* mother's eyes, dry with to ag
«*aj that Is tearless. |tw after him.
* Will they let oe see him7” she sir*
a little wildly.
'My at.m. my darling!”
Ay. were he the sister the trial ha*
proved him to he. he is her* still, the
mother-love ts his la spile of all.
. I T.j] try a*4 arrange aa later
View” Dr. Carter eaya huskily. * Sly
poor friend. nothing I cu aay can
comfort you There, there, try aad
fig..! off the faintaess; let m« take you
lato the air ”
sympathetic voire* whisper. “She is
hi* mother." aa the dortor pushes his
way out through the crowd, half car
ry tag Mrs Boueerie, who feel* as if
her heart were hreakiag
They had told her an to hope that
the Crow* was sate of a conviction,
hwt the hope had aot died till the
words ive years* peaal servitude fell
oa her ears. I'p to that auarsi the
mother had aeileved la some proof of
George s laaofwace bring produced
It h all over sow He ha* iwa led
away a free man ao longer. to live oat
a hideous nightmare of day* an i
weeks aad years crashed, raised aaJ
disgraced; aad he had said he wa* m
aoceat!
evealag; hut the glad.
has turned to rain, an 1
down the window
iaviiie sit* opposite
_at the other end «4 the
long table. Ills face bears aa
rtprvwws Of satisfaction They are
d scsssiag the all-ahsoru.ag topic of
It is the
bright
the drops
fo
his
the hank robbery.
‘ The fudge charged dead against
him." Jahastma says, fllkag his wiae
• Tha fary wa* not lea minute*
of their box '
lira Seville, as asaal. regally attired
fa satin aad lace, amiie* half disagree
ably
“It Is very fortunate if wa* all over
e- — Barbara's retarn Uhe will hard
ly care for S<»*S «» U
*%»f4*f*** saort* Mr. Satiile. leaa
iag fax* la laanrioa* cuateatmeat
”11 era Barbara wouldn't be mad
..J ’.J<a to vafc to marry a convict*”
Thea he stands «f bad strolls over to
taw w adow. Want a wet night* 1
suggest we try and forget the Bou
«. epmode What do yoa aay to our
takiag Barbara to lamdoa. or abroad,
or somewhere? She'll get over It *oua
A mni ■iixrcum Mr*. 8l
A **Tf gf0.ii
rtiw rrtttrtML -1 *■» tor Jlr.
Boar arts «f coots*. hot tor h*r ub
ormnpM I bar* a« pity It will
fwm TO*nrit S*bmMti*u 10 W1D
I tktti * t«r on th* roo
b# the b#»t pUn Bern*
llBC. 9* ***** »<* *° *° *Bjr
the Coart would !*> dc
bov (or Bulttr* "
fThrir iaatb«r mad aoa *rr amirabljr
;» future. Bar
is *ltfiB< OB board a
r, her for# fall
of ho** at r»«T throb of the imt
%er b Bott^st aesriT to aortac
Hot (stW * distil had
1 shock ho* Isrflj I* osr *****
a «r$-' for abr had rot **a b.a sin e
bar ilIllMi as4 ratal a-** ooty a *«y
fal»t ini aorr of as aaatcrr sibwt bub
«to rrf*^ ***** to hrr Sh* has
bcwc fif*a that ihr Is rich, that hrr
fashrr’s Wiil has b*t b-r rvarythtaf
cMBphsialr ••< ooraodt loaaii) £h*
vJf of ao •ach »aaith had tom* *•
a anmr 00 Barbara: *kf can ^ard>7
raa tat It jot
I
la her de«*p mourning she sits on a
deck, with grave, steady eyes looking
over the tos.-ing waves, and thinking
of George. What a surprise it will
be to h:m to find he is to have a rich
wife!
**l will help him to use this money
»;**-iy and well,” muses Barbara, lit
t»** dreaming that oehind prison bars
nt'u sire loves is lirlrg through
»ae flr*t awful days of his sentence—
day* when despair clutches at the
j heart, when the terrible realization ol
the horror of the life breaks down the
manhood, when even trust in the
mercy of God seems but a mockery.
CHAPTER IX.
"Hare you quite made up your mint}
to resign’”
Mr. Kelly. the bank manager, puts
| the question to the cashier, who has
a»k*‘d for an interview, and has an
nounced hi* intention of resigning his
post at the bank.
In answer to Mr. Kelly’s question,
Mr Grey lift* hi* eye# from the con
templation of the carpet.
”Ve*. sir. 1 have made up my mind.
I have never been the same since that
day. Every time the bank door opens
my heart beats. It has affected my
health. Mr. Kelly—indeed it has!”
*'In that case you had better go.”
»a>* the manager. ’’What do you
think of doing’"
“i have a brother in America; he
will get me work." Mr. Grey says,
rather evasively. “And. Mr. Kelly. I
never told you that 1 am a married
man. My wife was beneath me in po
sition. and I kept it secret. It is
rh.edy to please her 1 am going to
America.”
Well, 1 hope you will get on." re
plies Mr. Kelly, “but you have a good
. her*-, and would b*- likely to get
x raiae.”
“I know ail that; but my wife is ex
travagant; I give her all my salary.
Oh. you don't know what an anxiety
it all is!” explains the cashier, glanc
ing round with his frightened gaze.
“You don’t look well. Mr. Grey, and
I am sorry your marriage is an unhap
py one. Perhaps you are wise to emi
grate. after all.”
The Interview is ended, and Mr.
Grey goes bark to bis work, a crushed,
depressed looking figure. He is nerv
ous and starting at every sound. He
ha* never been the same since the at
tack made on him at the time of the
robbery; the shock left him a perfect
I wreck.
A carriage rolls down the street and
parses the bank. Mr. Grey sees it
driving by as he looks over the wire
blind of the bank window. It is the
carriage from tbe Court, with two men
on the bo* in faded claret livery, and
in it are seated Mrs. Savilie and her
j*on. en route for Ixmdon. to meet Bar
bara on her return from Tasmania.
The Court is to be half shut up. and
the few servants remaining in charge
are to be left on board wages, for it is
not Mrs. Saville's intention to return
unti. the marriage between Barbara
and Sebastian has taken place.
Three days later Barbara herself
stands before her aunt, with blazing
blue eyes looking out from the white
ness of her fare. She has landed only
this morning, and Sebastian met her.
and brought her straight to the hotel
Where hi* mother is staying.
Mr*. Savilie. with heartless callous
ness. has told her niece of the bank
robbery, and the crime and punish
ment of George Bouverie.
Anger and pity swell the girl's heart
to bursting George in prison! Words
seem to choke her. She cannot speak,
but stands with her hands locked to
gether. staring at her aunt.
Sebastian regards her critically.
*My dear Barbara, Bouverie was al
ways a bad lot." he says calmly. "Tol
erably good looking. 1 grant you, but
quite unprincipled. He was bound to
come to grief.”
Barbara turns slowly.
"You are not speaking the truth,
a»d you know it!” sbe cries, with sud
den pa*- ion. "If I bad only known, ir
1 bad only known!"—her eyes wide
and full of pain.
Mrs. Savilie. in her sable draperies,
sweeps across tbe room.
"My dear child, try and be thankful
that ><>u have escaped without having
your name mentioned with such a
man. Not a soul knows of any fool
ish nonsen*e between you.”
"It was no nonsense!” Barbara says
(Irmly. "I vu engaged to George
Bouverie when I left home. 1 am en
gaged to him still!
There is pride and determination in
the young face.
Mrs. Savin# gives a soon zaugu.
| “You will have plenty of time, dear,
to test your constancy and his. Five
years is a good alio# out of a life, and
they say convict life has a degrading
j influence. Where are yon going. Bar
bara’"—as. with one wounded, indig
nant look. Barbara move* towards the
door.
“I am going to save George.” the
girl nays, her voice rising with a kind
j of triumphant ring. "I shall cross
over to Dublin tonight. No. Sebastian,
do not aay one word. I am going to
prove George Bouverie's innocence.”
“I fear you are attempting an impos
sible feat." snears Sebastian, a dull
flu»b spreading orer his face.
Hirbara. with her hand on the door.
lifts her glorious eyes.
“He is innocent. It was I who lent
h na the money. I forced him to take
it and it was for my sake he kept
alienee. Oh. I see it all now!” she
cries, with a little irrepressible sob.
“if I had been there it could
y.f-ned. LiJi^HMfc^the roof.
was mine, ogjy
to make my til
tender look sw<
(To bt
their tiou
g the pi
A robin doe*
the builds her
Bat a woman
ever after she
o Appem
n. opeft
Us, was
Arms
Once More.
"Come on the shore, auntie. The
tide is racing in, and there are such
big waves.”
Constance Maynard put down her
sunshade and looked out over the glit
tering ocean, then at the rosy, sun
burnt face of her 6-year-old nephew.
Of ail Margaret s children Laddie was
her favorite; but her seat was exceed
ingly uncomfortable, the shingles very
rough, so she temporized.
“Wait a little and the water will
come to us."
“I don’t like waiting.” said the child
disconsolately, repeating what many
older and wiser people would say had
not the lesson of time taught them its
uselessness.
“And I would not go near the break
water,” he pleaded.
lie had planted his elbows firmly on
her lap. h<s blue eyes were fixed wist
fully on her 'r^e. and she could never
resist Laddie long. So after repeated
promises she let him 30 and sat
watching him with the faint* hope that
he would not spoil his garments, and
get her Into disgrace with nurse.
little fellow's words kept repeating
themselves in her ears: “I don’t like
waiting.” No one liked it, she thought,
with a sigh, and yet for wears her life
seemed to be all waiting—waiting.
She was nearly 30 years of age, this
pretty creature, whose fair, blooming
face spoke of perfect health, whose
soft eyes Lad a pathetic expression in
them, as of one who had suffered. It
was long since she had quarreled for
the last time with Rupert Laird, and
he had gone away—so long that ev
ery one seemed to have forgotten him
but herself, and Margaret had been
quite angry when she had refused sev
eral offers of marriage and declared
her intention of remaining "auntie” to
the children for the rest of her days.
Poor Constance! How grieved she
had been when Rupert had made the
disastrous mistake of thinking that
Tom cared for her—Tom. who had
been her kind, cheery brother-in-law
for many years. Laddie was very
like him. She mu3t not forget the lit
tle lad, and perhaps she had better go
to him. though the shingle was rough,
for while his intentions were good,
his memory was extremely short.
Rising leisurely, she glanced over to
where the breakwater ran out into the
sea. a picturesque object at low water,
covered with green seaweed and tiny
shells. Little was to be seen of it this
line summer afternoon, for the tide
was flowing in deep and strong, but
as she looked her eyes dilated with
horror. Scrambling up the slippery
side was a small, white-clothed figure,
with fair curls blowing in the breeze,
who gained the summit with wonder
ful speed and ran boldly out along the
top.
Throwing down her sunshade she
flew down toward the shore as fast as
the rolling pebbles would permit, call
ing loudly to the boy as she went.
She saw the beautiful baby face fill
with sudden contrition, saw him turn
to come to her—he was never afraid
of any one, least of all Connie—then
be had given a sickening slip on the
treacherous green slime. There was a
flash of two little bare brown legs, a
vision of a flying straw hat, a loud
splash and he was in the water on the
far side of the breakwater, where it
was so ternuly deep.
What happened next she hardly
knew, but she remembered shrieking
for help, and leaning far over the
slimy edge, making frantic snatches
at the struggling child; then a man
dived in, and Laddie, gasping and
dripping, was once more in her arms.
"Oh, we can never thank you
enough,” she panted as she hugged
the young scamp.
But the man made no answer; his
hand still grasped the boy, and some
thing on it seemed strangely familiar.
Surely she had known that massive
signet ring in the past. Glancing up
hurriedly, she saw the face, older and
more worn, but still the handsome
never-forgotten face of Rupert Laird.
For a moment she was too petrified
to speak; sea and shore seemed surg
ing toward her. “I don’t like wait
ing,” Laddie had said, but she had
given up all hope that he would ever
discover his mistake and return—and
now he stood before her.
"Connie, you here?” he said at
length, with ill-suppressed emotion.
“Have I saved your child?”
"Yes—no. Rupert.” she answered
hurriedly. “He is Tom's and Marga
ret's; their only boy; naughty, naughty
Laddie."
“Tom’s! Margaret’s!” he whispered
hoarsely, his eye devouring her face.
“And you, Connie, you?”
“I am ‘auntie,’ and a fine dance this
boy leads me,” she attempted to say
gayly.
“Let us get out of this crowd,” he
said in the old abrupt w*ay that she
knew so well, as he apprehensively
surveyed the rapidly increasing gath
ering which seemed inclined to cheer
him. “I will carry Laddie.”
Perhaps neither had any distinct
if what they had said as they
the shore homeward, but she
more composed of the two, for
[\ known the truth all along,
') him it had come suddenly,
^whelming.
re not changed,” he said later,
^ood by the gate in the gloam
>is I with whom the years
hardly. I who have been
fool and had to suffer for
But I have put no one in
your place. I have kept your image In*
my heart. It is through Tom’s boy
that we have met again, and you loved
me once, Connie?"
"Once,” she breathed softly, "once."
The moon was shining over the quiet
water, casting long balls of light into
the room where Laddie lay in the
peaceful sleep of childhood; lights be
gan to appear one by one in the houses
along the sea front; very softly on the
ozone-laden breeze came the ripple of
the waves along the shore, the faint
odor of seaweed and tar, but still they
lingered on by the gate, these two who
had waited so long, wTho had silently
kept the faith that seemed broken, and
after long years had met again.
LO AND "BUFFALO” HORNS.
How the Wily Ked Man Utilizes Product
cf the Slaughter-House.
The Montana Indian is something ot
a schemer himself. He comes to town
and sometimes walks all over the place
without saying a word to any onei
Sometimes he brings in a few sets of
polished mounted cowr’s horns, which
he sells for a dollar or two a set. He
never frequents saloons. He looks in
to clothing store windows, but never
bucks the slot machines in cigar
stores. He frowns as he passes a res
taurant, but smiles while walking
through the sweet-scented alleys back
of cheap boarding houses. In a horse
trade he takes the prize, if there’s one
to be taken, for he was never known
to get the worst of such a bargain.
The reason of this, however, may lie
in the fact that he begins the negotia
tions with nothing to lose and every
thing to win. However, he has the
reputation of a schemer. Where his
schemes shine brightest is in the sale
of polished “buffalo” horns. He lives
out near one of the slaughter houses
on the south side, and there he secures
his “buffalo” horns, all sizes, curves,
and consistencies. He picks out a set
or ox horns of symmetrical propor
tions, scrapes the scales off, and boils
the horn in a solution of glycerin.wood
ashes and water. The treatment sof
tens the horn, so that a caseknife will
easily remove all the exterior accumu
lation. Then fine sandpaper is used to
give the first polish, followed by a
thorough rubbing with a flannel cloth
slightly saturated with oil. A varnish
or shellac is then applied, and the
horns are in condition for mounting.
Then the work is turned over to the
squaw, w'ho does the really artistic
work. Red flannel and braid, beads
sometimes, and a strip here and there
of buckskin, a few brass-headed tacks,
and t?he mounted “buffalo'’ horns are
ready for the market. Mr. Buck comes
to town, and the tenderfoot asks him
where he "ketchem buffalo horns.” “In
Yallowstone park.” grunts the big
buck. “How much?” asks the intend
ing purchaser. “Two dolls.” “Too
muchee.” “No, no; cheap; thue dolls,
ugh.” The tenderfoot inspects the work
and satisfies himself that they are
really the horns of an almost extinct
species of the majestic western animal,
and he hands over the coin and walks
away proudly with his prize. The In
dian moves off down the street, turns
the first corner, and disappears up an
alley.—Anaconda Standard.
AVOIDABLE ACCIDENTS.
How Familiarity with Arcldents Ilegeti
Carelessn«~w
There is no saying truer than that
familiarity breeds contempt, says an
old Pittsburg railroad man. Take, for
example, men who handle high ex
plosives. When they first go on the
work they handle the explosive tender
ly and gingerly, but with the constant
handling of the dangerous compounds
they grow careless, and dangerous and
deadly explosions are frequently the
result. We had a bad accident at one
time, and in order to clear the tracks
it w'as necessary to dynamite the
wreck. On the wrecking train the
dynamite was in one box on a flat-car
with the caps in another, while a third
box was provided in which to place
the dynamite cartridges when capped
and ready for use. The two men in
charge of the dynamite, as the wreck
ing train neared the scene of the acci
dent, began to make ready the ex
plosive. One man affixed the cap to
the cartridge, and then tossed it to his
companion, some seven or eight feet
away, who caught and laid it in the
box We never knew exactly what
happened. Either one man missed his
catch or the other dropped a cartridge
in capping, but the car, dynamite and
men wrere wiped out of existence; a
large hole where the car and tracks
had been marked the scene of that
familiarity-breeds-contempt accident.
Called the Wrong Man.
An Irishman arriving in Cincinnati
one night found it impossible to get a
bed to himself, but was permitted to
share one wrhich had been engaged by
a barber. Pat noted that his bedfel
low was very bald and proceeded to
chaff him. This the barber endured
in silence, but when Pat had fallen
into a heavy slumber the other man
got up and shaved every hair off his
toi tor’s head. The Irishman hav
ing a long u.nm before him on the
morrow, had left instruct*-he
be called very early, and, it being stiu
dark when he rose, he did not notice
the loss of his hair. When some dis
tance on his way, however, he felt
thirsty, and, coming to a spring, took
off his hat and bent down to drink.
Seeing the reflection of his bald heae
in the water, he sprang back aghast
“Be jabers.” he exclaimed wrathfully
“they’ve called the wrong man!”
Venerable Rinliop Taylor.
Bishop William Taylor, who is now
on the superannuated list of the Meth
odist Episcopal church, has had a most
eventful career. Previous to his re
tirement from active life four years
ago he had preached continuously for
fifty-three years. He began as a street
preacher in California and then went
to work in foreign missions. He has
worked in Africa. Australia. India,
South America, Asia and in most of
the islands of the South Pacific.
Lace-HfakinK In America.
To-day
and 175
United States,
sent an
$3.000.0000,
4,500,000
$20,000,000.
large mills
in the
repre
nearly
at
Wealth of Alaska,
The future of Alaska as an agricul
tural region seems just now most
promising, says Prof. C. C. George
son, a government agent in charge of
crop experiments in that arctic prov
in#e.
Two years ago the 1’nited States
government started experiment sta
tions at Sitka and Knai, the latter a
small settlement on Cook’s inlet, con
sisting chiefly of Russians and Indi
ans. which, on the maps, i£ usually
called Fort Kenai, for the reason that
United States troops wrere stationed
there for a few years after the pur
chase of Alaska from Russia.
In taking up the work the depart
ment of agriculture got together seeds
of nearly everything in the way of
garden and field crops that might be
expected to grow in Alaska. Some of
the seeds were obtained from Norway,
Sweden and other parts of the world
where climatic conditions are not un
like those of the territory; others
were got from northern experiment
stations, in Minnesota. Wyoming and
Montana—especially the seeds of
hardy varieties of grains.
As soon as the stations were located
experimental plats covering several
acres were laid out and sown with the
various kinds of seeds, and incidental
ly a beginning was made in the study
of the prospects for rearing domestic
animals. At present there are practi
cally no domestic animals in Alaska,
though the country is well adapted
to sheep, pigs and goats, while in the
Sitkan region and on the Aleutian is
lands cattle keep fat all the year
round on the wild grasses. Poultry,
too. can be raised to advantage. The
only domestic animals in the mining
region of the Yukon are cats, kept
to catch mice, and dogs, which are
used for drawing and packing. An
extensive vegetable garden has been
established opposite Dawson, which is
the capital of the Klondike district,
the plowing being done with the aid
of dogs. Occasionally moose, trained
to pull, have been utilized in that
country for plowing. At Circle City
and elsewhere lettuce.radishes.onions,
turnips and peas are sown on the roofs
of the houses, which are covered with
a layer of earth, the latter, warmed
by the heat from within, yielding very
satisfactory crops. The soil of the
Yukon valley is a rich loam, from the
falling leaves of the forests, and 350
miles- from the mouth of the river
cauliflower, radishes, lettuce, cab
bages, carrots and beets are raised in
the gardens of the Protestant and Ro
man Catholic missions. Peas propa
gate themselves, but beans are a fail
ure and potatoes are watery. The
surest vegetable in that region is the
early turnip, which sometimes reaches
a weight of ten pounds.
Alaska is most particularly the
country of small fruits, no other part
of the world producing so many kinds
or in such abundance. There is a
wonderful variety of berries, some of
which, being unknown in the states,
might be introduced to great advan
tage. They grow wild over great areas
in extravagant profusion—bright scar
let cranberries the size of peas, big
strawberries, raspberries, red and
black currants, blueberries, gooseber
ries, bearberies, dewberries, mossbe’
ries and roseberries. Traders buy
large quantities of the cranberries
from the natives who pick them, ship
ping them to San Francisco, and red
currants are so plentiful in th^ neigh
borhood of Cook’s inlet that one may
purchase them for two and a half
cents a pound. The Indians depend
upon berries to a great extent for their
supplies of winter food, crushing and
drying them, while the Russians pre
pare from them many delicious pre
serves.
It is now- believed that in the not
distant future the territory will not
only support millions of people with
the fruits of its own soil, but will ac
tually export large quantities of food
stuffs, such as butter, cheese, pork,
mutton and beef. Thanks to the
warm Japan current, which corres
ponds to the gulf stream of the At
lantic ocean, the climate of the south
ern coast of Alaska is rather mild, be
ing not more severe than that of
Maryland and Virginia, with fewer
vicissitudes, and in that part of the
country millions of cattle and sheep
might subsist on the wild grasses with
a much less percentage of loss from
winter cold than in the western part of
the United States. All cereals ex
cept Indian corn do well, and the
same is true of most vegetables.
CONSUMPTIVES WORK CHEAPLY
Those Sojourning in the West Are Ruin
ing Some I.lnes of Business.
“What they call ‘consumptive com
petition' out on the Pacific coast has
certainly become a grave problem,
said a visitor from California at one
of the New Orleans hotels to a Times
Demoerat man. “From San Francisco
to Los Angeles the country is simply
overrun with one-lunged individuals
who have emigrated from the east to
save funeral expenses and are willing
to work for anything that will keep
them alive. The trouble is that most
of them are so distressingly competent.
I know men who held positions at
their old homes that paid them 16.000
a year, who are willing and anxious to
go to work for $5 a week. Of course,
the services of such chaps are in de
mand, and they are rapidly filling all
the good jobs to the exclusion of
healthy natives. I was talking to the
proprietor of one of the largest hotels
in Frisco the other day, and he was
boasting about his crack office force.
‘There’s my head bookkeeper,’ he said,
‘he used to be general secretary of the
‘Steenth Avenue Street railway in New
York, and is one of the finest actuaries
in the United States. My chief clerk
was formerly manager of the Victoria
in London. He speaks four languages.’
“You must have to pay them fancy
salaries,’ I remarked, ‘Oh. I don’t
know,’ he replied, ‘the bookkeeper gets
$15 a month and the clerk $20. Of
course,’ he added, ‘that includes board.
Without exaggeration, that's a fair
sample. To be sure, the average con
sumptive doesn’t last very long, but
another is always ready to take his
place, and the way those who are unem
ployed size up the incumbents of good
positions and calculate their chances
of holding on is somewhat horrifying
to an outsider. They will chaff one
another about it. too. I was in a big
dry goods store recently when a hol
low-cheeked gentleman sauntered up
to one of the department managers
and asked him how he was feeling.
‘Having night sweats, eh?' he said;
‘then I suppose I can take hold here
about October. But don’t hurry on my
account. Take your time, old man;
take your own time!’ Consumptive
competition was really behind the late
effort to have a bill passed restricting
cases of tuberculosis from entering the
state. The talk about infection was all
a bluff. It was a matter of cheap labor
—same as the Chinese."
Savings In Italy.
From a report lately published on
the postoffice savings banks I glean the
following items concerning the lead
ing cities of Italy and their districts:
Genoa. <>-*..,«.,«> nopulation. It. £58,253.
420 deposits: Turin, no popula
tion, £46.379.890 deposits; Rome.
000 population. £36,387,930 deposits;
Naples. 1,166.700 population. £20,704,
000 deposits; Florence. 830.340 popula
tion, £14,850.000 deposits; Milan, 1.307.
900 population. £12,276.723 deposits;
Palermo, 845.590 population. £9.007.000
deposits; Venice. 390.000 population,
£6,214.000 deposits. Milan, the rich
est city in Italy, ranks low in the list,
because its savings are more profitably
employed In i ndustrial investment.—
William Rapinet Mackenzie, in Chi
cago Record.
Cost of AutngrA|>lis.
A collector of autographs says: "I
bought a good autograph tf Queen Vic
toria in London for $10. I got Mat
thew Arnold’s autograph tr $4, Black
more’s for $3. Carlyle’s for $9 and
Gladstone’s for $2.50. lie signature
of Lord Byron comes kg’ v. anri cost
TREADING ON LIONS.
Hunter Stepped on tubs, and Killed
Tlieir Dam.
While pursuing guinea-fowl in the
Orange Free State Mr. G. Nicholson
hail a dangerous adventure with lions.
He was stumbling along a rocky ridge,
he says, when he suddenly trod on
something soft, and instinctively took
a spring. Before I could look round
a fearful growling was heard, and two
lion cubs, about as large as spaniels,
became visible, evidently in a fury
at being so roughly disturbed. Next
moment I became aware of a lioness
rapidly but cautiously making for me.
There was no time to put bullets into
the gun. and I quickly decided to
stand still till it became clear that the
lioness meant to seize me. Then, as
a last chance, I would send a charge
of shot at her head, in the hope of
blinding her, at least. In a few mo
ments the brute was within four yards
or so of me. growling and showing hpr
teeth. I wished myself anywhere but
there, but forced myself to stand mo
tionless. Luckily the cubs joined their
dam. and she halted to notice them a
moment. She came on a few steps,
looking ugly, but halted again, then
turned slowly around, and followed by
the cubs, made for a huge boulder
twenty yards distant, and lay down
behind it. as I could see by the tail
tuft which protruded beyond the rock, i
Then my hunter’s blood was up. I
loaded my gun. kicked off my shoes,
and climbed the great boulder. I was
within three yards of the lioness, who
instantly discovered me and crouched
to charge. Taking careful aim at her
breast, I fired and killed her. The
*‘boys” at the wagons heard the fir
ing and came up. The two cubs were
soon caught, at the expense of a few
bites and scratches. We took them to j
camp.where they were kept for sev
eral months. We afterward sold them
to an American skipper.
Capt. Streeter. the ‘•Sovereign/*
Capt. George W. Streeter, sovereign
of the “district of Lake Michigan,” a
tract of land on the lake shore a few
blocks north of the river, has sued
Mayor Harrison, Chief of Police Kip
ley. Corporation Counsel Walker, Kel
logg Fairbank, W. S. Forrest and oth
ers for 1500,000 damages, says the Chi
cago Record. The bill was filed in the
Circuit court Saturday. Capt. Streeter
tells in his bill of tne unseemly con
duct of Inspector Max Heidelmeier
and his bluecoats in invading the
“district of Lake Michigan” last year
and placing him, ms police force, judi
ciary and legislature under arrest. He
declares that in so doing the defend
ants conspired to injure his good name
and to bring him “into infamy and
disgrace and to cause him to be dis
possessed of real estate valued at
$500,000.” ’
Historic Naval Exhibition.
A historic naval exhibition will be
held at The Hague during the coming
summer. Queen Wilhelmina has lent
the Kneuterdyk palace to the commit
tee. There will be a collection of rare
objects, portraits of Dutch heroes,com
memorative medals, arms, relics, au
tographs. models of celebrated vessels,
maritime instruments, valuable en
gravings and maps. The Japanese gov
ernment has permitted the loan of all
the documents, now in Japan, relative
to the ancient relations between Japan
and Holland.
High Clam Machinery.
The higher classes of machinery and
tools used in Russia are from Great
Britain and the United States. At
present there is more demand for com
mon softs. The finer sorts are used In
bicyrffr factories, marine machine
fletc.
1
THE MARKETS BY TELEGRAPH.
Quotation* From New York, Chlc»|»
South Omaha and Elsewhere.
SOUTH OMAHA.
UNION STOCK YARDS. South Oma
ha. June IS.—Cattle—Last w.-ek's receipts
were very liberal, but notwithstanding
that fact, values were well sustained and
advanced 5$*10e on the more desirable
grades. Cows and heifers did not show
very much change. Prices ruled lirm for
fat cornfed stock, while common and
grassy stock has been slow sale and
rather weak. Veal calves ruled steady
throughout, and the same has l»een true
of buns, stags and rougn stock generally.
In stockers and feeders the trade was
very quiet. . . „
Choice 1.400 to 1.609-lb. beeves. $5.10@Jk40;
good 1.100 to 1.400-ib. beeves. 4.90'd5.ld; fair <
to good 1 to 1.-50-lb. steers. $4.Sopd.3>;
poor to fair steers. $4.39'a4.3); good to
choice cows and heifeis, $4.2.. a4 «0; fair f
to good cows and heifers. *.« i.l-i; com
mon and canning grades. $2.2->a l- .o, bull-;,
stags, etc.. $3.0uW4.A>; calves, conn ion
choice. $3.u0,'i4.35: good to choice stockers
and feeders. $!..Vda.Oc fair to good sio<-a
ers and feeders. $4.00 d 4.73; common to fair
stockers and feeders. jo.God4.uv; milkers
and springers. $J.<si4a3.00.
Hogs—Receipts. Id cars, 6.700 head, were
just moderate ar.d 3,4tO smaller than i
week ago. with the week's supply 3.000
short oi last week and showing a de
crease of 9.600 compared with a year ago.
r'or the we»-k the market shows a athoVic
loss. l»ut the close is ioc above iow eJi.a
touched and a big shilling higher tiian
two weeks ago, the low point of the
season. Butch-r an 1 heavy hogs. .£1.9514
4.97'3: mixed and medium weights. $4.92y.j
'jis.w; light and light mixed. ll.S.'VcH.Jii.
Sheep—Receipts were about the small
est of the year. We are just between
the grass and grain seasons and the lim
ited arrivals of stock are of rather in
mnerent quality as a rule. There has
been a good demand from aii sources,
but prices have naturally ruled very un
even. Wooled lambs, vi o 'ui.d); clipp *d
lambs. j3.23fa6.,.'0; clipped yearlings. $4.fC''d
5.60; clipped wetheis. $4i*a5.vJ; cLppad
ewes. Jl.30V4.63.
CHICAGO.
Chicago. June IS.—Cattle—Receipts. 239
head; nominally steady; natives, good to
prime s'errs. $5.IOdo.75; poor to good, $4 30
rp3.1(0; selected fe»-.lers. $4^1'/r3oi; mixed
stockers 3.0); cows $3.oO'Sr4.60; heif
ers. 25'a 3.0) ;ca n ner> |2.35f$ 5.90; bulls.
(3.00Q4.50; calves. J.j.Go'fii.OO; Texas fed
steers. $4.♦BP5.33; Texas grass steers, fci.X5
((14.40; Texas bulls. $:!. lap.: 63:
Hogs—rteceipts today. L'.oiO head; Mon
day. 33.9009 estimated; left o\ er. 1.390; gen
erally 3c higher; top. $3,120*; mixed butch
ers. $4.95P 3.12V*; g»rod to choice heavy. $5.90
ifr5.12S: rough heavy. $4-90ra'5.00; light, #4.1(5
fa3.12V*; hulk of sales. <3.0ip3.19.
Sheep and I.ambs— Receipts. 3,000 head;
sheep and lambs, steady; good to choica
weth-rs. $4.WP5.30; fair to choice mixt>d.
$4.09P3.00; western sneep. |4.7i*-iS-3.25; year
lings. f5.30iQ.3.30; native iambs. In.oVaO 80;
western lambs. IG.OOPtxSe; spring Iambs.
|3.<»Q7.U0.
Receipts this week: Cattle. 47.000 head;
hogs. 139.M0 head; sheep. 62.200 head. Last
week: Cattle. 4.1400 head; hogs. I69,3i)i
head; sheep. 56.300 head.
ST. LOUIS.
St. Louis. June IS.—Cattle— Receipts, 700
head; market steady: native shipping and
export steers. $4.7565.00; dressed beef and
butcher steers. $4.SOUS.30; steers under
l.t»W lbs.. $4.:365.15: stockers and feeders.
$3.0064.05; cows and heifers. J2.OOti4.90; can
$1.5062.05: bulls. $2.7564 50; Texas and In
dian steers, $3.* <>65.00: cows and heifers.
$2.2562.!*).
Hogs—Receipts. 2.1(0 head; market
strong and 5c higher: pigs and lights.
J4.4Vg5.00; packers. J4.90to5.a6; butchers.
$5,006 5.12V
Sheep and Lambs—Receipts. 100 head:
market lower: native muttons. t4.25'dr. 00
lambs. J5.0O67.3t); culls and bucks. $3,000
5.C0: stockers. $2.7563.50.
NEW YORK.
New York. June IS.—Beeves—Receipts.
310 head; no trading. Market feeling
steady: no later cables; exports. 500 cat
tle and t».413 quarters of beef.
Calves—Receipts. none: no trading.
Market feeling unchanged; citv dressed
veals at 9610c per lb.
Sheep and Lambs—Receipts. 4.329 head;
19 cars for sale; sheep, steady: eommon
to good medium lambs. lower: good
lambs, steady; sheep. $3.5065.25; lambs.
$5.2567.00; common yearlings. $5.30
Hogs—Receipts. 1,760 head; none for tha
market. Market nominally steady.
♦
1
QlllET ELECTION IN HAVANA
Was Conducted in a Manner Extremely
Creditable to the Cabans.
HAVANA. June 18.—The result of
the election probably will not bo
known till midnight, the count of the
ballots not being in until 6 p. m. The
day was very quiet, the city having a
general appearance of Sunday, except
for the large number of coaches on the
streets hired by the contending parties
to carry voters to the polls free of
charge. Most of the voting was done
early. Some of the voting booths had
voters waiting before 6 o’c ock in the
morning, when the elections began. At
10 a. m. probably half the total number
of inscribed voters had cast their bal
lots. The election boards, nearly all of
which were composed of members of
the national party, were extremely con
tented. claiming to be absolutely sure
of wining. There was no confusion or
rows, each waiting their turn. The
Cubans, members of the board, were
conducting the elections in an exem
plary manner, being anxious to show:
their fitness for independence.
Up to 9 o’clock tonight General Wood
had received nothing but satisfactory
accounts from all parts of the island,
concerning the behavior of the people
during the elections. General Iiee. Gen
eral Wilson and Colonel Whiteside all
make similar statements.
STOPPED A PARISIAN CABBY.
Man From Mexico Shows the Etoqaenco
of HU SIxshooter.
PARIS. June 18.—The cabmen's
strike was a failure, having Impeded
traffic only three days. During that
period those running vehicles were
able to get fancy prices.
Yesterday an elderly American. Cy
rus Milward. who says he comes from
New Mexico, maddened by repeated re
fusals of passing cabbies to take his
family of four aboard, pulled a pistol
from nis hip pocket and ordered tne
next one to stor — shot. He fired
_, o,wi in the air to show that the
weapon was loaded. Cabby pulled up
short, but a policeman came up and.
while ordering the family driven to
their hotel, took charge of the west
erner. This morning he was fined 30
francs for importing New Mexico meth
ods into the French capital.
0
s
Children Burned to Death.
LEADVILLE, Colo., June 18.—Fire
destroyed the Home for Friendless
Children, a charitable institution main
tained by the churches. Four children
were burned to death. The building
was a large wooden structure and
burned like tinder. There were forty
children in the building, but all but
four were brought out safely and most
of them with scarcely a stitch of cloth
ing on. Four little ones were found in
one of the upstairs rooms and burned
to an unrecognizable condition. Thus
far the management of the home has
been unable to identify the dead.
Improve Quick Telegraph System
VIENNA, June 18.—Messrs. Poliak
and Virag of Buda-Pesth. whose mar
velous invention of quick telegraphy
has been successfully tested in Amer
ica, have completed another invention
in connection with it by which the ray
of light directed by the tiny telephone
mirror writes in ordinary characters
at a distance of hundreds of miles. la ,,
the original invention it wrote only
the Morse alphabet. The addition now
made removes the necessity of trans
cribing. j
1
V
