Uhe /l«i 1rr A Fascinating
= ® VJvliy Romance
^ A/an Adair,,,.
CHAPTER I.
“Its the only thing to do," said Alan,
thrusting his heads into h'.3 pockets
and looking straight before him. "Here
there is nothing for me, and, as you
say, there is nothing to keep me here.
It was her wish besides; and yet—yet
I hate leaving It.”
“I can well understand it, lad. I
was the same. It is Just in us Scotch
men, this love of the land. And I had
.Torn, too, to keep me here; and so I've
just stuck on and made a precarious
living, and I’ve but gtaved off the evil
days, for now my hoys will have to
go. We can't make a living in the
old country, and there’s no Joan, is
there?” asked the old man, kindly.
"No. N'o woman has evey been any
thing to me except my mother," said
the lad
"Well, well, time enough; there's
sure to l>e," said Maspherson. "A fin«
lad like you!” As a matter of fact, the
old man said, "Weel, weel," hut that
did not take away from the kindliness
of his speech. You've always got a
friend in me. I wish I could help you
substantially; hut that Isn't easy. Still,
if you need it, I can make a push as
well as my neighbors.”
“Thank you kindly,” said Alan Mac
kenzie, "hut there will be no need of
it. The sale of my poor little sticks
will pay my passage money and there’s
n good place waiting for me when 1 get
out, so th it there will he no need for
me to go borrowing. I wish I felt a
little more enthusiasm about making
money. It's said to he in Scots’ blood,
hut it isn’t in me. I would fain stop
here and watch the clouds settling
round the hilltops all the rest of my
life than go to South America, and
make my fortune. Yet because my
mother wished it, and because she was
overjoyed when the offer came to
me, I fee: is just, my duty to do It,
neither more nor less.*’
It dill not take long for Afriti Mss- '
kenzie to s-11 hi3 few possessions, and
to turn his bark upon the little Scotch
town. He was going as far as Glas
gow, to take a steamer to South Am
erica. His story was simply this: A
tad to whom his father had once given
^ free passage to South America had
d 'ne so well at Rio that he was now
on-! of the foremost merchants there.
He had remembered his benefactor.and
when he heard of the captain's death,
hat. written and offered a good place
in his counting house to Alan Macken
zie. Mrs. Mackenzie was dying of a
painful disease, and she saw in this
offer a future for her son who she so
tenderly loved, and she was keen that
he should accept it. So that when she
died there seemed nothing for the lad
to do but to go.
He was a good looking lad, standing
about six feet in his stockings. He
had passed his twenty-first birthday,
but he was younger than lads gener
ally are at 21, having no experience in
the world, and none of men and wom
en. He had worked at school always,
having been fond of his hooks, and he
had played outdoor games, so that he
had very little knowledge of either the
usual amusements or the perplexities
of life.
When he had finally said good-by to
his native place his spirits began to
rise within him. The world and ad
venture were before him. He had said
good-by to the old life, hut the new
was there. He had never been so far
as Glasgow before, and the big town,
with its lighted streets and the ships
In the river, attracted him. After all,
there was something pleasing in big
thing’. Larg* enterprises and wealth
attracted and had charms after all. So
that it was with a lighter heart that
Alan Mackenzie embarked finally.
He loved the voyage. Heredity counts
for something and hi*f:ither had loved
the sea. He felt it was his own ele
nieut When he reached Rio It was
w.th high hopes and resolves to make
his mark. He had a kind reception
from Richard Dempster.aad here again
Alan felt the chum of riches and
power Dempster's bouse was oue of
the l>e*t in Rio. his clerks were well
pa I. and his wife and daughters occu
pied a ji' *. e sc ond to none In s > •■ ty
Dcmp.-ter wanted Alan to be oine ac
custom 1 to the work, an 1 then to
found a: tt.-r branch of the house In
a n t.iug town siair hundred mile
aw v
D u p-' -r h* 1 tw> daughters fine,
fr* < a. !; i‘">nie girls but I > sons,
lit • ■, bv i s tli*.g w 4i aid have been
for .Van Mackmtle to have fallen in
love with One of the girl* fo hive set
lied dow n < :nt jft i’i i atiif pro-per
ou-.:. in It. u- then was one tiling
.l(i ’it it There w is a little win of
roman •* in • nature and he dig
llked I'M** Vl Ills lis'I**, h‘ bad tile
in le| H«lt at map < *i »t be to leug Ue
ho! Pm t h s » 's tif h • .. tv.Itt e
men* '■* '; i' alt ” ' sh iii »4» mi
1 II* ol perfect frien UMp With In*
mil f t> I , .!i-t >ei t., t,. t «f
»
r#»iuig
Th* 4 * mti ed with fiT w io, IH>
hand' * mg tfeotsaaaw. w wark
*i| *■.• hi l of whom lh«ir fa'her h*d
i>* a a h > a op a m and who wu«
a* >!• >•• r always i* I* tly willing t«
t*e at th* >• k an t > all
Alan *• n f etal f. irn4* In Hio
Hemps'' i • i< ' . ♦ i • i -n •« i ■ i
•nil whew it i» iwii ka»wa tha' ha
ktohitl with favor *>,» tw« ruuag AiSi
man, every one Joined in making fun
<* him.
Most of the employes in the firm
were married, and they constituted a
little circle to themselves. Alan had
the run of their houses, and soon be
gan to feel at home; however, amongst
them there was one man to whom he
never took. An Englishman, Hutch
inson by name, a surly, red-haired
brute, with a magnificent head for fig
ures. He was the one man whom Mac
kenzie did not like, although he had
never quarreled with him; but he
fancied that it seemed as if Hutchin
son had a particular grudge aga'nst
him.
This surmise on Akin's part was well
founded, for, as a matter of fact, when
Dempster found him so intelligent, he
had thought it might he well to raise
him to Hutchinson's place.
There was some mystery about
Hutchinson. He lived in a house some
little way out of town, and no one
knew exactly whether he was married
or not. Some affirmed that he had a
daughter, who has almost reached
woman's estate; others said that he
never made any mention of any one.
But, as a matter of fact, Hutchinson
never mentioned his private affairs at
all, so it was not wonderful that the
rest of the firm knew nothing about
them.
But one day there came some
rather important tidings to the firm.
Richard Dempster consulted Alan, and
he offered to talk over the matter with
Hutchinson. It was after business
hours, and the young man offered to
find the Englishman. He had not the
least idea of spying upon him, because
he had so many friends that he had
no need to seek any, and he was actu
ated solely by the wish to be useful to
his employer in what might become
advantageous.
South American affairs have not the
stability of ours. A day's delay, eve#.:
a few hourJi, mfghi mean ttvj .‘oss or
maciy thousands. So Alan obtained
Hutchinson’s address from Dempster,
and, in all good faith, went to find his
colleague. It took him some little time
to find the house. It was quite out of
Rio, and was more of a country house
than a town house.
When he found it he was amazed at
the beauty of his surroundings. It
seemed to him that Hutchinson lived
even in greater style than did Demps
ter, and that probably he did not wish
this to be known. There was no rea
son why Hutchinson should not live as
a rich man. He drew a large salary
from Dempster, and there were many
ways i«u which he could enlarge his
means.
Alan rode on through avenues of
trees, fresh bowers of fruit and dow
ers, gorgeous in th'dr tropical wealth
of color, and suddenly as he rode it
seemed to him that he heard the sound
of a woman sobbing. He reined in his
horse so as to make sure; he still
heard the sound. The spirit of adven
ture burned hot withiia him; the cry
ing was so piteous, and Alan could not
bear to hear It. It was like that of
some girl in pain.
He fastened his horse to a tree, for
getting all about the financial crisis
and his errand. All the chivalry in his
(nature was stirred. He pulled aside
the boughs of the trees and came to
an open glade. A girl dressed in white
hifd thrown herself on the ground;
her slight body was shaking with sobs.
Alan watched her for a moment and
then he spoke. “You seem in trouble,”
he said in English, for, though the
girl's head was dusky, yet she did not
look altogether Spanish. "Can I help
you?”
The girl, startled by the voice,
sprang up, and showed to Alan’s gaae
a face, disfigured by weeping, it Is trim,
but of a perfect type of beauty. There
was Spanish blood in her, as was testi
fied by the liquid, dark eye*, and the
perfci t oval of her face, and the slim,
yet well-shaped limbs. Her mouth. '
too, quivering with emotion, was ripe
and red, ami the little white teeth were
even and sharp.
She looked up for a moment at the
handsome lad, who wan watching her
with such evident concern, and th“n
she blushed ami answered, w-th no at
tempt at sett-possession that w n very
reditable, ' t ing the abandonment of
grief In whb h AUtn hail for.id her It
l» nothing, fir. 1 w mhl not do ns m>
father wished, and he was angry aud
struck me,"
'Struck you* The brute"' .riel
Alan. ‘The deleft jnl brute! How
•la •* he strike a woman?"
The girl s eye# w re e art down; #he
; v enrnl ar amed I'crh.ip- he hoi n q
vet reaiiteti her won* infos t| com pier -
i ly she seemed ve.y > - m« * 11 hi
a violent triiipt'f, sir and (iFifhapt I *1
■ it.t hi unlit him Well I Have n > itiolh
er; she died years ago"
fortunately for In said Vlan
grimly, 'if ytuir fa'her U ih* #.,t of
man who would strike a woman*"
V llU «n ' It I f Iht J I, 'It - tlin
that i:.l# i# Important M> father had
prom c I n>» hm I to # ittan be I* a
Mein an Spaniard and they think
hoiking of arranging a itrl.rsi f u
i you t» it t < iHild uat marry him I
i said hi ml my r»«kef .< <»*-d t"
being thwarted tt» in aiiyr, at
tometkllii la baa a**#, ton M |h#
uionieni p*< hap t wit hardly .'h i. v
• Waft"
"Your father is not TTutchlnson, of
the firm of Dempster?” said Alan.
Somehow It did not seem to him likely
that Hutchinson could be the father
of such a beautiful girl, sand yet it was
not unlikely, seeing that he hid found
her there.
"Yes,” she said. "Do you know
him?”
"I work in his office,” said Mackenzie
shortly.
“Ah!” The girl looked up shy’.).
“Are you Mr. Mackenzie?”
"Yes,” said Alan. "Has lie spokcT*
of me at all?”
"He does not like you,” answered
the girl. “He would not like me to be
talking to you. Ho would be more
displeased if ho thought that you knew
he had struck me.”
"He should not have done it, then.”
said Alan shortly. "The coward! I
can well believe it of him!”
“You do not know him?” she said,
very anxiously. “But do not quarrel
with him! It is not good to thwart
him!”
“Possibly not," said Alan, "but these
considerations do not affect me, you
sec.”
Her lips quivered, but she did not
weep again. “They might affect me,
though," she said, timidly.
"How?”
"If he bnew that I had told you. He
does not like mo to speak to my one.
I have to bear it all alone,” said the
girl.
Alan looked indignant. "I shall not
betray you, Miss Hutchinson,” he said,
“but I wish-”
“You must wish nothing,” said the
girl, and she colored. “You must for
get that you saw me weep. 1 am
proud, and it troubles me.”
“I wish I had no cause,” he rn
swered; "but I have business with
your father. I hope 1 may see you
again.”
She hesitated. “You will not tell
father you have seen me?" she said.
"He is strange—he does not like it to
be known that lie has a daughter, ex
cept to his Spanish and Mexican
friends.”
"1 will say nothing," said Alan; "but
I mean to see you again.”
He lifted his hat, found his horse,
and rode up to the house.
(To he comic ue4.)
I
A to Shamrock for W»terc re*ii
On the eve of St. Patrick's day a Hir
nmigham woman, thinking the supply
of shamrcck might give out, took the
precaution to buy a large quantity.
She carefully placed the plant in a
small dish, with plenty of water in,
and let It remain on the table In the
sitting room. Somehow it was late
before the husband returned home that
night, in fact it was midnight when
the latchkey was heard at work. Per
haps it was business worry, but his
footsteps sounded somewhat irregular,
a trifle unsteady, as it were, but the
wife heard him go into the sitting
room, where he remained some time.
Eventually he silently crawled up to
bed. Next morning, what was the
wife's surprise to see nothing but the
roots of the shamrock left in the dish.
Hurrying up to her still sleeping
spouse, she aroused him, and asked
him what he had done with it. "Sham
rock, what shamrock?" he heavily in
quired. "Why, that I left in the glass
dish downstairs," "That! Was that
shamrock? Why, I ate it; I thought it
was mustard and cress!” After that
fairy tales were useless.—Weekly Tele
graph.
An Intpi>*lii|; Spectacle.
A knight of the Garter dressed In the
regalia is an imposing sight. He wears
a blue velvet mantle, with a star em
broidered on the left breast. His trunk
hose, stockings and shoes are white.his
hood and surcoat crimson. The garter,
of dark blue velvet edged with gold,
and bearing the motto, "Homi soft qui
mal y pense," also in gold, is buckled
about the left leg, below the knee. The
heavy goldun collar consists of twenty
six picres, each in the form of a gar
ter, bearing the motto, and from it
hangs the "George,” a badge which
repr* sents St. George on horseback,
encountering the dragon. The "lesser
George" is a smaller badge attached to
a blue ribbon,worn over the left shoul
der. The star of the ord°r consists
of eight points within which is the
cross of St. George encircled by the
i garter.
Minify \ of M!n«liM»|N*:irf*» Kami.
The lamiiuu Financial New.* esti
mates that the fame which attaches to
Stratford-m-Ai mi |ki au.-e of the fact
that Shake peare was horn there Is
worth lYtiici imsi to that town. The
chaig far admission to the poet's
hmiee. in Anne Hathaway*.* cottage, to
the i httrch, to (he memorial »v l to tho
grammar - hool net frsMWi »»arly a
*iim whli !i ! ei| ilvalent to an lltrnm**
of tlir** |H'r cent on I he $*i,i ii i.ttuti cap
Ital. This * limitation d W.* not take
tn o mint tlie Income t » the r ill* :
ways from the pilgrims ;o 'he War*
u «k*hl • M« a. and ther* i* no esil*
mate d profit* of th* Stratford i
1 trade*ti.> ii who do a c*r»d to .in> » in
phntog■aplu. pamphU-t* and trinkets
relating t i the i an aa I e gt.-at
hard.
It ho* *1 iiaur *M,i t'av*
llaflllltott I* firing Ohio . .tie,- sn Iih.
Jr t .« >ti in mani<i|Mi ownership.
The 4ttn>.il report of So pi John Uif>
< in J»i* I* i»>t t'lU* that the gas
work* •ano-l a n> prottt, atom wit
mi* im • and litrtMi last ye »t, H *
d’ n I ir ok e ii [• mi , »ire-l
• ' and the wstrt work* *ht*h
l* under » wpdrate • ip*rtnWud«n» st
m *h t»< • In s ittt, .« th* pfopertis*
j ar* val *d sk
I RICH INDIAN MAID.
ANNIE DILLON. A LITTLE KIOWA
GIRL.
Who Iv IfilrpM to More Than 81,000,000
—Saved a Hlrlt Cattleman'* I.lfe and
He 1-Ittlntcljr lienarded Her—I’retty
and lutelllKent.
Because she proved true to her white
friend in his time of need, Annie True
lieart Dillion, a little Kiowa maiden 14
years old. lias become the richest In
dian girl in all the west. Annie is the
daughter of Chief Black Wolf and is
heiress to the entire fortune of $1,000,
00O and more left by John Dillion, a
rich cattleman who is said to have
died at the hands of a half-breed as
sassin seven years since. Dillion was
born and raised in Ireland, and when
he came to America he went to Texas
and worked on a ranch in that state
as laborer and cowboy. By careful
management he became rich. From
ids cattle ranch on the Rio Grande
he shipped every year large herds of
cattle to the Indian Territory to fat
ten upon tile fine pasture lands of that
favored region during the spring and
summer. He had been in this busi
ness so long that he was pretty well
acquainted with all of the Kiowa
chiefs and various members of the na
tion. and from the fact that he always
had dealt fairly with his red brothers
he was popular. He teased vast areas
of pasture lands every year, and he al
ways was prompt in the payment of
ANNIE TRUHEART BILLION,
tha rents. He was liberal, good heart
ed and kindly disposed, with one grave
fault—he dearly loved a glass of grog,
and as he grew older and his constitu
tion began to yield to the hardships
incident to his career he drank much.
He enjoyed the company of his cow
boys and cattlemen, and nothing
pleased him better after a successful
deal than to surround himself with a
crowd of good fellows and make a
night of it with plenty of red liquor.
Seven years ago a little affair of this
kind camp near ending his career. He
had visited the territory to meet the
agent of a big syndicate, with whom
he expected to make a deal that would
relieve him of several thousand head
of steers. The deal was made and \
Dilllon wm in a most felicitous frame
of mind. At that time the old Texan
had in his employ a half-breed Cher
okee, Bill Hawk. This rascal hap
pened to he present when Dilllon re
ceived a large sum of money in bills,
which he saw the old man roll to
gether and put In his pocket. The
elated Texan, after taking several
more toddies, decided to go out to a
pasture about ten miles from Chicka
sha. where he had a tine herd of cattle
that were being looked after by some
of his favorite Texan cowboys, and lie
asked Hawk to hitch up a buggy and
go with him. The man was eager to
go, but his conduct did not arouse any
suspicion at the time. The road to
the pasture passed through a small In
dian village, where Dilllon had many
acquaintances. When thi old man
reached this place several Indians and
half-bloods gathered about his buggy
and begged him to stay over night to
attend a dance. He did so and en
joyed himself to the utmost until final
ly he succumbed to slumber. Date In
the night the old Texan felt something
pulling his arm, and wh^n he opened
his eyes he found that a little Indian
girl was trying to wake him. As soon
as the child sew that his eyes were
opened she whispered: "Dilllon, now
you go putty quick. Hawk heap bad
man. Putty soon him come. Him got
big knife—kill white man take hoss
take heap money. Me hear him talk
Him heap drunk. You go now." The
child ran away, and Dilllon slipped
from under his blankets and rolled
them together. After placing his hat
at one end of the roll and his boots
at the other he crawled r.way a short
distance ami lay down under a tree to
watch for further developments. He
did not wait long before he saw a
man cautiously approach the pile of
blankets. The drunken assassin was
deceived by the hat and boots. He
thought that hia victim was at his
mercy, and he drew a big knife from
his belt and drove it into the roll of
blankets with all his strength. The
next instant Hawk sprang into the air
with a wild yell and fell dead across
the blankets, with a bullet in his
heart. Dilllon had killed him.
The old Texan never afterward was
the same man. He continued to attend
to his business and make money, but
It was easy to see that there was a
cloud on his mind. He never suspected
liis friend, Black Wolf, or any of the
Indians of the village of having aided
or abetted the assassin. He became at
tached devotedly to the Indian girl
who had saved his life, and he dually
got the chief's consent to let him edu
cate her and make her his heir, She
was to he given to him when she be
came 14 years old, but he died a short
time ago, and now the girl's future and
fortune are in the hands of important
persons. John Rogers, of Presidio, who
was in the millionaire's employ for
nearly a quarter of a century, is the
executor of his will, and he says that
the Indian girl will inherit a fortune
of $1,000,000 in cash that is with a
safe deposit company in New York,
and besides this, when she is of legal
age or when she marries she will come
into possession of a One ranch on the
Rio Grande that is well stocked with
cattle, and one of the prettiest haeien
does in old Mexico.
Was a Leading Preacher
The death in Brooklyn the other day ;
of Rev. Dr. Richard Salter Storrs,
pastor of the Church of the Pilgrims,
has removed one of the leading Con
gregational divines of the country. Ha
was the third clergyman in his family
to bear the distinguished name, and
the fourth clergyman in his family in
direct line
Dr. Storrs wa3 born in Braintree.
Ma£s., in 1821. and studied law for a
nnV hit Hit'll Ull) M STOKH8
lino In IN* <•! It i'uft Choatf. Hi*
th n took iii> ••*<• ft**1I ** uf thmilAgy.
itiaituatinc from .\nl**vt*r Th*,ol »*jii-.*l
mrnlnary In IMS Fur a > ■ ir h«* w»
(in-ior of »h«- II.r\ :»r I t'nnat** ttlnn *1
ihtifih in Hroiltllin*. Ma**, and thin
via* • allwl tu llruoklyn, n u*r« lit
ani l*-1 th# 4»i*tu»;wft «»C th* |M(rlni
| i hur. !i until ‘ • «t N irui uf, ait'U hi
! ri •laard
Wh*u hr Slur* wh i t > llrmblya
In 1*4*1, th* i*-ii» i tii >n <4 th" • i»y » *
,
Tb»> ihitr.lt BtM » >li a be wa* tail*'I
tt» |ir*ai«lv IwtuKii' |h‘- |»ar**nt uf n'n-**
imi *ttb**r rburrbra uf that ilftiuiiif
H4t»«.n In that it* an t nn • Ih-tti
• m I'liniuitib ihttr-'b inm»t ai*ly a*
•di *tri| nttb t!u Him* uf U* ary Want
Hr*-. *l*f
(tr Mturn an a (r*«t »«*»« att4
•a* ltit*r**t**l in tir»**blrt» Th*
IHiklt library th*r* Ml th* lum*
Ulan l »* t«ty tr* mainly 4 >* tu him
He was one of the founders of the In
dependent, and one of the editors
from 1848 to 18fil. During the civil
war he was an ardent supporter of the
Union, and was one of those sent by
the government to raise the flag over
Fort Sumter at the close of the war.
His lectures and writings made him
well known at home and abroad. Of
his works the “Divine Origin of Chris
tianity” is considered the best.
Sentiment Not Appreciated.
The prince of Wales can be cutting
as well as courteous, and when he Isn't
in the mood for feminine pleasantries
lie will not take them even from socie
ty beauties. Recently at a large ba
zaar the prince, being tired, entered
the refreshment room and asked a cer
tain well-known society beauty, who
was performing the role of waitress,
for u cup of tea. This was soon
brought to his royal highness, who,
smiling, asked her how much he owed
her for It. "The price of the cup of
tea. your reyal highness. Is half a
crown ordinarily, but ttaking a sip
from tiie tea cup) when 1 drink from
It the price is one guinea." "I sec," re
plied the prince, quietly, placing u
ruin* a on the table. Then, placing half
■ Town beside It. h" said: "The guinea
liquidates mv first debt, and now
might I trouble you to tiring me an or
dinary cup of tea. ns I am thirsty?"
The -*»mdill beauty was too c: imbed lo
bring Ills royal highness the second
cup New York l*r<
• ' r t■ ■ < Or«* frmii Ida.
\ Norwegian n- ft h4»?- juj*’ brought
to l>htUit|i'lt>htn a lot.I of funpie old
tak«n Ironi th‘ »ltr of the am tent
. i % ul T«- no - i • In \ ’ a Minor The
Ni.it was N!nl at lie ft, ir Mike
a small port near the site of Ti-lnie.sitt
in I atmoi fifty mites from It u air*
lie cargo, * ii«h will fc« ut >,| in iha
nanulatiur* of pilni, was dog from
t*i« g»*it ainnt.i a-iildf of Talniessua,
* iirl> historian* uv hi* a o iling
|»4« II» of jw '* # |i *.i«. \ « olrauiv
. rup! Oil ini the lit* (Mil It |i
sail that the earth IR the tteieliv wag
i tr me*l info l mas* !•# ore 'or !
whi. N there is now r demand from all
fgfll utf I Re W«i» Id
lead tjy In the oyster*
COAL PRODUCTION.
t illed State* Nov* the Created I’rodurei
of Thb Fuel.
The scarcity of coal In Europe and
many inquiries about American coal
that this has caused, and the new ex
port trade to some extent that haa
resulted, emphasizes the fact that this
country is now tho greatest coal pro
ducer in the world. The production
for 1899 Is estimated by the Engineer
ing and Mining Journal to have been
244,581,875 tons. The statisthian of
(he Geological Survey estimates that
it was 258,539,650 short tons, which
is an amount far in excess of the pro
duction of any previous year, and
probably greater than the production
of Great liritain. In 1889 the produc
tion of bituminous coal In this coun
try was 95,685,683 short tons. Ten
years later it had risen to 198,219,255
short tons. In 1889 the anthracite
production was 40,714,721 long tons.
Ten years later it was 53,857,496 long
tons, an Increase of about 32 per cent.
The value of the production of 1899
Is estimated at $260,000,000, about $51,
000,000 more than that of tho pro
duction of the preceding year. One of
the encouraging features of this in
crease of production and the increase
of trade that it indlcateirboth at homo
and abroad, is tlu^ with the exception
of Pennsylvania anthracite, the coal
deposits of the country are practical
ly inexhaustible; that the known de
posits have scarcely been “scratched
on the surface.” Pennsylvania Is still
the leading state not only as the pro- ’
ducer of anthracite, of which she has
almost a monopoly, but also of bitum
inous coal. Illinois is next, West Vir
ginia is third and Ohio fourth.—In
dlanapoiisPress.
“Ilreail I |>on tlm Water*.’’
The reward of a generous deed sel
dom comes more opportunely than it
did in an instance reported by the
Cleveland Leader. It appears that a
prominent Clevelander named Cole,
who has recently died, was forced to
leave Cornell university, at the dose
of his sophomore year, for lack of
funds. He went to New York, and be
gan a canvass of mercantile houses and
offices, In search of a position. Among
many others, he visited the office of a
produce merchant, who seemed greatly
taken with his personality. The re
sult of the interview was that the mer
chant said to Mr. Cole: “Young man,
go back and finish your college course,
and 1 will foot the bill.” Mr. Cole ac
cepted the offer, completed his course
with credit to himself and his strange
ly found fripnd, and at once entered
upon a business career. It was not
long before he prospered in a business
venture, and found himself able to re
pay the sum advanced for his educa
tion. He went to New York, sought
out the office of ilia friend, and step
ping up to his desk, laid down seven
hundred dollars. "Mr. Cole,” said the
old merchant, “if it were not for this
money my credit would have been
dishonored today. Maturing obliga
tions would have gone to protest. You
have saved me.”—Youth’s Companion.
The Crafty Ant* Ilulld a Itond.
Something new and Interesting
About ants was learned by a Mount
Airy florist. For a week or so he had
been bothered by ants that got into
boxes of seeds which rested on a shelf.
To get rid of the ants lie put into exe
cution an old plan, which was to place
a meaty hone close by, which the ants
soon covered, deserting the box of
seeds. As soon as the bone became
thickly inhabited by the little creepers
the florist tossed it into a tub of water.
The ants having been washed off, the
bone was again put In use as a trap.
The florist bethought himself that he
would save trouble by placing the
bone in a center of a sheet of fly paper,
believing that the ants would get
caught on the sticky fly paper while
trying to reach the food. But the flor
ist was surprised to find that the ants,
upon discovering the nature of the
paper trap, formed a working force
and built a path on the paper dear to
the bone. The material for the walk
was sand, secured from a little pile
near by. For hours the ants worked,
and when the path was completed
they made their way over its dry sur
face in couples, as in a march, to the
bone.—Philadelphia Record.
1'itrliliig Uii<t \nluiihlf.
"Here's ray bonnet, Just come home,"
said the publisher's wife. He wat he,I
her open the box, and remove layer
after layer of tissue paper. "(lee
whlrz!" he exclaimed, "now I under
stand why It cost so much." He h o!
had some experience with the paper
trust himself. I’htlDilelphla pres-.
% MUII<tii*irr 11
Ily a decree of the supreme court of
Mexico the claim of Mrs. Mary It.
(•race, principal of the Tompkins
school. Syracuse, N’ Y, to tin* Yar is
and Ittsiuank mine* In lUiruiiKo,
worth iT.ooo immi is affirmi d The de
cision put - Mrs tirace lu full po-rc*.
slon of the min <, said to be the rli li
es! In Mexico
tmltl* »• | i||« bhnl.
Miu'ht r K"- t* n « *»?!• lit* b *ti ghtit
y a »an*ek*epcr on the II II of |{..|
tut, oten t *i\c. and n nt to Kirriemuir
to tie stutfe | |t |s „t»t,.,| that jhera
are only two or uuc# mot? of thc*o
birds l*'ft lu S a land »„*
I Ns lUool <0„rtf•
the |i s> t atur?coii on record «,,*
ahsht ttt lti» >rih sea it wciahrd
434 pounds but the d*lt«ht of the n*h
nito n to tempsr- t by the fact that tt
dot |. si worth of dama«» to the u.t*
tsiuj* tt was hit e l
It Isn’t th* mi wh« was knit with
a Miser spoon in his u.utk who nnloi
the Utuet stir
J