JOHN BURT
"By FREDERICK
UPHAM ADAMS
Author of •*Tbo Kidnapped Millionaires,'* “Colonel Monroe s Doctrine,” Etc.
Copyright. 1903, bt
Frkdkbick Up ham Adams
All rights
reserved
Copyright, 1603. by
A. J. DBUIt Biduli
CHAPTER XXXil—Continued.
‘‘The hotel furnishes matches,” re
sponded Blake, coolly.
“Here's a match,” said Kingsley.
“Thanks, old chap.”
Morris calmly struck a light and,
holding the bright new thousand-dol
lar note a few feet from Blake’s head,
he ignited it.
“Very clever, Morris,” said Blake,
replacing his poeketbook. “Must be
a new sensation to burn my money?
Did you burn your fingers—again—
Morris?”
“Don't go too far with me, Blake!”
Morris exclaimed. “I’ll not stand for
it. do you hear? I've lost, and I’m
still a gentleman; you’ve won, and
are yet a cad! You’ve taken my
money and won the woman. Keep
away from me.”
“I didn't seek this interview,” said
Blake, his face flushed with rising
anger, “but since it’s to be our last
one, I'm going to tell you something.
I’ve not a dollar of your money and
am not your rival in any respect.
Listen to me, Morris, and I’ll tell you
something that will sober you. Do
you remember John Burt? I guess
you do. He was the country boy who
dragged you out of a chair by the
scruff of the neck for insulting a
young lady upon whom you had forced
your society.”
* “What of him?” demanded Morris,
sullenly. At the mention of John
Burt’s name the scene, with all its
horror, came to him.
“John Burt—what of him?” repeat
ed Morris. “That country lout can
come back, or stay away, or go to the
devil, for all ! care.”
“That country lout has come back,”
said Blake deliberately. “I had the ■
pleasure this afternoon, my dear Mor
ris. of transferring to John Burt the
various stocks and bonds which you
and your father tendered to James j
Blake & Company in settlement of '
your liabilities. Permit me to let !
you into a deep secret, my dear Mor
ris. John Burt is James Blake &
Company. I am—nothing. In my fee- !
ble way I've attempted to carry out
John Burt's instructions. You seemed
to stand across his path and he blot- i
ted you out. He forced you to dis- 1
he fell. He turned half over and
lay motionless.
“I’ve got him, John,” gasped Br.ko
“and I guess he's got me! Are yo>
hurt, John?”
He again raised his weapon un
steadily, and pitched forward into
John Burt’s arms.
“Stand back and give the man air!’
roared John Hawkins, pushing aside
the morbid crowd which surged
around the motionless bodies. "Bear
a hand, John, we’ll take Jim to my
room.”
With bated breath John watched
the surgeon as he opened the waist
coat and cut away the blood-soaked
shirt. For a moment he laid his
head against Blake’s breast. It seem
ed an age before the answer came.
“He lives,” said the surgeon, reach
ing for an emergency case. He held
a vial to Blake’s nostrils, and the
watchers saw the faint shudder which
told of a halt in the march of death.
Then the breast heaved convulsively,
and James Blake opened his eyes and
looked squarely into John Burt’s face.
“Hello, John!” he said, faintly.
“What's the matter? What's happen
ed. old man?”
“You must keep quiet, Jim,” said
John Burt, tenderly clasping Blake’s
hand and pushing back the damp
locks from his torehead. “You are a
long way from being dead, old man.
but you must reserve your strength
and obey the surgeons.”
’ i don’t want a surgeon—not now.”
declared Blake, in a stronger voice
and a quickening intelligence in his
dark eyes. “Hello, Hawkins! Yei
won t be offended, will you, Hawkins,
if I ask you and the doctors to leave
me alone with John for a minute or
two?”
“Certainly not, my boy, if the doc
tors say so.”
The surgeon turned to John and
whispered a few words, which did not
escape Blake’s strangely revived
senses.
“You’ll probe for nothing until I
talk to John!” he asserted. “I’m go
ing to live long enough to tell John
something that no one else shall hear.
Send them out of here, John, or I’ll
get up and chase them out. *
. ..?■■■ -TJL
"Likp Ck column pv>jb0<3 fronA ita base bp fpll
gorge General Carden’s fortune. He
will wed the woman on whom you
have forced your addresses. Do I
make myself plain. Morris?”
Morris gazed at James Blake and j
for a moment seemed incapable of i
speech.
*‘I—I—I think you lie, Blake,” he |
stammered, after a long pause.
Blake raised his eyes and saw John j
Burt and Mr. Hawkins entering the j
room. Pausing not a second to weigh
the consequences, he grasped Morris j
bv the shoulders and whirled nan i
*
around.
Morris threw one arm behind him, J
but Blake, scornful of his opponent, j
and thinking only of the dramatic cli- j
max which offered itself, took no i
warning.
“Calm yourself, Morris,” he said
soothingly. ‘ Auger does not become
you. I want you to look your best,
for here comes our mutual friend,
John Burt! Hello, John!”
Blake released his grasp and Mor
ris drew back in a defiant attitude.
With careless contempt Blake ignored
Morris, and his eyes followed John
Burt and Hawkins as they came
towards him.
At the call of his name John turned
and saw Blake. His face lighted with
a smile as he stopped and then ■
walked towards the group.
The muscles of Morris’ face j
twitched, and a desperate look came j
to his eyes. With a quick motion his
arm come from behind his back and
something glittered in his hand.
“Hello. Jim,” said John. “Are we
on time?”
“Mr. Burt,” said Blake, his dark j
eyes twinkling with deviltry, and his !
voice clear as a bell, “permit me to
introduce-”
He turned to Morris with a mocking
smile on his lips. He heard the click
of metal and saw the flash of polished
steel as Morris raised his arm and
leveled a revolver at John Burt.
“I bought this for myself! Take it.
John Burt,” he cried
He fired before the words were out
of his mouth. The spectators who
stood their ground saw Janies Blake
throw himself forward the moment
before a spit of fire came from the
muzzle of the weapon. They saw’ his
figure reel through the smoke, and
they saw Morris fire again.
Like a sharp echo came an answer
ing shot from Blake. He had half
fallen, with his right knee and left
hand on the marble floor. Morris’s
second shot was aimed over his head
at John Burt, who had dashed at Mor
ris and was almost over the wavering
figure of his friend.
Vhen Blake fired, Morris’ arms
w*nt up with a Jerk. His revolver
fiat! with a crash on the floor.
**Ood!” Morris cried.
Like a column pushed from its base
The surgeon administered a few
drops of stimulant, ar.d motioning to
Hawkins and the physician, the three
silently left the room.
• Sit close by me, John, and let me
hoid your hand,” said Blake. “Dear
old John!”
Tears glistened in his eyes as he
clasped the other's hand.
*T don't wish you to tell me any
thing, Jim.” said John, soothingly.
"Just keep quiet. Jim. and make up !
your mind that you are going to get
well and be the same generous old
Jim Blake that I have known all these
years.”
“You know what I've done!” ex
claimed Blake, his eyes glistening
with excitement. "You know a!!, and
yet forgive me! Do you. John? Tell
me, old man; it means more for me
than drugs or probes.”
"I do. Jim. Say no more about it.
old partner, but lay quiet and keep I
all your strength for the crisis which
is coming.”
John shook his head.
“And yet you know the truth. I
loved her madly. John, but a few
words from you, John, after you learn
ed the truth, brought me hack to
earth. 1 said nothing to Jessie, John.
No word of love ever passed my lips.
I saw Jessie this evening, and told
her that I was to dine with a friend
cf mine from California—you, John,
you! And to-morrow' evening I prom
ised her that ,1 would bring that un
named friend to her house. That was
my little surprise, John, but it was
not to be.”
“I shall call the surgeons if you say
another word,” declared John, who
feared a change for the worse.
“I should like to see Jessie. Will
you send for her, John?”
“At once,” was the answer.
The door opened softly and Dr.
Harkness ana other surgeons entered
the room.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A Mendacious God.
“Here's a message for you, Jessie!
The man says he will wait for an an
swer. I’m just dying from curiosity.”
Jessie Carden was reading when
Edith Hancock rushed into her room.
Too impatient to wait, she leaned
over Jessie’s shoulder. The note bore
tne letterhead of & hotel and was
written in a firm but scrawling hand.
It read:
“Miss Jessie Carden,
“Mr. James Blake has been serious
ly wounded by a pistol shot and may
not recover. He wishes to see you.
If possible, come at once.
“SAMUEL L. ROUNDS.”
When the purport of the message
dawned upon her. Edith snatched the
paper from Jessie’s hand and de
voured it with straining eyes.
‘ He may not recover!’ she moanci.
”He may not recover! Oh. what has
happened? I am going to him! He
shah not die! Hurry, Jessie, hurry!”
Two white-faced girls rushed in
upon General Carden. His lips com
pressed as he read the message.
“This is Morris’ wcrk.” he said.
“Tell the messenger we will come at
once.”
The hotel entrance was blocked by
a mob when the Bishop carriage drew
up. The blue helmets of police of
ficers formed a line which marked
the edge of a struggling crowd.
“One moment, sir!” ordered an of
ficer holding his baton in front of Gen
eral Carden. “Make way for the am
bulance corps!”
The folding doors of the side en
trance opened and four men slowly
advanced bearing a stretcher. It con
tioned a motionless mass covered
with a white cloth. Jessie clung to
her father’s arm.
With a low cry Edith Hancock
sprang forward and raised the cloth.
She looked into the dead, staring eyes
of Arthur Morris. The bearers paus
ed while she gazed intently at the
face. She nervously replaced the cov- \
ering and turned to Jessie and her
father.
“It’s Arthur Morris! He’s dead.
Perhaps it is all a mistake about Mr.
Blake. Find out, general; find out
at once! We'll wait for you here.”
General Carden returned and silent
ly conducted Jessie and Edith to a
loom on the second floor.
A case of surgical instruments lay
on the center table, but the room had
no occupant. As they stood hesitat
ingly by the entrance, the door con
necting an adjoining room opened
and a tall man with red hair, sharp
blue eyes and enormous hands enter
ed. Jessie recognized Sam Rounds.
“Heou dew’ ye do!” he said softly,
advancing with an awkwrard bow.
"Sorry tew meet you in such a place,
but the bitter goes with the sweet.
Jim's badly hurt, out he has a chance
—so the doctors say.”
In whispers the four talked of the
tragedy. Sam nad entered the hotel
office just before the first shot was
fired.
“It all happened so quick I couldn't
do a thing,” Sam explained. “The
second shot fired by Morris just miss
ed—some one else—some one Jim
was tryin’ tew save—an’ went
through the top of Mr. Hawkins’ hat.
Morris was dead before he struck the
floor.”
The door opened and a grave-faced
surgeon entered the room.
“Miss Carden may see Mr. Blake
for a few minutes,” he said.
in the dimly lighted room Jr 5sie
Carden saw two figures—one propped
up with pillows so that only the head
and arms showed against the white
liner.. The curling, black locks fell
back from the pale brow, and the
handsome face seemed chiseled in
purest marble.
(To be continued.)
GAMBLING FOR A CHURCH.
Mixture of Superstition and Business
in Alsace.
About the middle of the last cen
tury. when the German Bund sat at
Frankfort. I was an attache to our
legation there, and as Homburg was
close by I spent a good deal of time
in that cheerful spot.
The most curious thing that I saw
was this. A church in an Alsatian
village was damaged by fire. The
village blacksmith dreamt that he
made a machine which, when wound
up threw out a counter with a num
ber on it every five minutes. He went
in his dream to Homburg with tCe
machine, flayed on the number and
won enough to restore the church.
When he related his dream to his fel
low-villagers money was subscribed,
the machine was made and he was
sent to Homburg with a small capital.
E\ery day for a week the machine
was placed in the gambling-room
under his supervision, two peasants
stood at the roulette table to play and
the village priest walked up and down
the room praying. At the end of the
week the requisite amount was won.
The priest assured me that this was
the result of a miracle. He may have
been right or he may have been wrong.
Anyhow, the money was won aad the
village church restored.—Henry La
bouchere in London Truth.
Answered tne call.
On the bank of the Mohawk river,
midway between Amsterdam and
Tribes Hill, New York, is the farm of
Aaron Pepper. The proprietor is the
possessor of several horses, and
among them one that is blind, of
which Our Dumb Animals tells this
story:
The horses frequently resort to the
islands in the river for pasturage.
They ford the stream at a point near
the dwelling, and the blind mare
usually follows the others. During a
recent freshet the horses attempted
to return, while Mr. Pepper, anxious
as to the result, stood watching them
from the north shore. Two horses
and colts had entered the stream,
then their blind companion followed
In a few minutes all were strug
gling against the rapid current and
failing to make any headway, the
leaders sought the large island, while
the blind beast became separated
from them and drifted a considerable
distance below until she gained f
foothold.
Then, discovering the loss of hei
mates, and realizing her helpless con
dition, she gave a plaintive whinny
One of the animals, upon hearing It
re-entered the stream, and swimming,
to its unfortunate companion, touch
ed it with the nose and directed it
toward the island, which both reach
ed in safety.
French Telephone Girls.
It has recently been decided in Paris
that the telephone girl is a public of
ficial and as such she commands the
respect Incident to public function
aries. The question came up in a case
where a popular actress was prose
cuted in the criminal court for har
ing insulted the central girl. While
defendant was acquitted, the rlfbts
of the “demoiselles de telephone" were
clearly established.
Evidently New.
"They haven't been married Iona,
have they?”
“I guess not. She still thinl-\« V-r
hwboand looks like Napoleon.”
WALNUT IN GREAT DEMAND
Germany Ready to Take Ali America
Can Send.
A price is set on nearly every sound
walnut tree in eastern Pennsylvania
that has attained, a diameter of at
least three feet. The business of ex
porting walnut timber to Germany,
where it is in demand for veneering,
has reached such proportions that
igents for the exporters have hunted
jut and made offers for almost all the
imited number of matured trees of
.his species remaining within easy ac
cess of Philadelphia.
Bids are unnesitatingly made for
.rees that have shaded colonial man
dons since the days of the revolution.
Sometimes the owner resists the temp
.ation for months. Then the amount
)f money offered is increased, and the
emoval of the old tree immediately
'ollows. For a tree three to four feet
n diameter at the base $25 to $50 is
taid, its value depending upon its
straightness and freedom from limbs.
Trees of this size are generally more
;han fifty years old.
Sometimes a tree six or seven feet
n diameter is discovered, and for this
?iant, whose age is measured by cen
turies,- the price exceeds $100. The
iuyers take only so much of the wood
is can be converted into logs at least
i foot in diameter. The remainder re
verts to the seller. The demand in
Europe for American walnut is due to
.he fact that this wood is, to some ex
.ent, taking the place of the fast de
ceasing supply of mahogany in the
manufacture of veneering for furni
ture.
A Popular Decision.
George Fred Williams, of Massachu
setts, tells of a politician in that State
who is rather well known for his ex
tremely conservative temperament.
A year or two ago the politician was
a candidate for the assessorship of a
certain county in the State mentioned.
Just at the height of his campaign a
circus visited the county seat, and lo
cal attention was for the moment di
verted from the political situation to
the wonders of the arena. Among
the exhibits of this show' was a freak
billed as “the two-headed sheep," and
there was much discussion as to
whether the freak was two sheep with
one body or one sheep with two heads.
So intense became the difference of
opinion among the countrymen that
the matter actually got into the news
papers. giving rise to much acrimoni
ous debate.
One day the candidate for the as
sessorship was approached by a num
ber of individuals who differed with
respect to the freak, and they in
formed the candidate that the matter
was to be left to his decision in or
der to settle a wager.
After careful consideration of the
arguments made pro and con. the poli
tician smiled genially and said:
“Gentleman, in view of the fact
that I am a candidate for the asses
sorship of this county. I decide that
both sides are correct.1’
The Teacher's Side.
Representatives !\lann. Jones and
McCleary, all of whom were at one
time schoolteachers, are fond of ex
changing reminiscences of the time
when they were respectively engaged
in “teaching the young idea how to
shoot.”
During one of these discussions Mr.
McCleary touched upon the matter of
corporal punishment, and a hearty
laugh went up from the others when
the man from Minnesota related some
amusing incidents of his efforts in
that line.
“That reminds me of the remark
once made by a fellow that I knew in
my schoolteaching days,” said Mr.
Jones. “A number of us were talking
of the very question now alluded to, 1
when someone observed that^ it
seemed to him a pretty poor piece of
policy for any teacher to lose his tem
per in the presence of his pupils. ‘As
for thrashing a pupil,’ said this chap,
‘that's altogether out of the question.
It ought not to be done.’ At this,”
concluded Mr. Jones, "my friend first
referred to smiled in a reflective sort
of way. ‘I suppose I agree with you
in that,’ said he. Really I never be
come angry with my pupils, but at
times I get terribly enthusiastic!’”
The Tide of Love.
As ocean clasps the yielding shore
My love would hold thee near:
I watch beside the heart's high tide
Tor tidings of thee. dear.
As one who waits for treasure ships
To bear across the sea.
I wait the treasure thy dear lips
Alone can bring to me.
In on the tide of love
Sail to thy victory.
All in the pride of love.
Banners unfurled.
Thou art my argosy:
Come to me speedily!
I am the mate for thee.
World of my world!
As night the tired earth enfolds
And lulls with soft caress.
My love would share thy every care
And comfort thy distress.
As morning runs to greet the sun.
While joyful mists arise.
Mv pulses toward thee madly run
While love bedims my eyes.
On the dawn-tide of love
Cometh the heart's desire.
Proud with the pride of love—
Fire of lire!
Love, love, I wait for thee;
Come to me speedily;
Thou art the mate for me.
World of my world!
—Cincinnati Commercial Tribune.
Petroleum Engines in Jaffa.
Petroleum engines for pumping 1
water from wells for the purpose of
watering the orange gardens of Jaffa
have been used during the last three
years; their introduction into the
country is due to the Germans, who
sold about eighty of them. The Brit
isn makers followed, and sold about
the same number up to the end of last
year.—London Engineer.
To Feed Lambs on Peas.
Two hundred thousand head of
lambs will be fed on peas in the San
Luis ralley, Colorado, the coming win
ter. An immense acreage of peas has
been grown, and the crop will be fed,
without harvesting, to lambs, which
will be sent Into the valley from
northern New Mexico and Utah.
Japanese Imports.
In 1903 Japan imported commodi
ties from the United, States to the
value of $115,500,000 and from Great
Britain and India to the value of
$251,750,000. Her imports from Ger
many were les3 than one quarter of
the latter sum.
Fellow Musicians. ,
s
i
" lien supper's cleared away at last.
And feeble grows the day.
And stars are gathering thick and fast
Out there across the bay.
The bull frog i^.so clears his throat
And night birds pause to fling
Forth to the breeze a tender note
And Teeny starts to sing.
She's only just a little lass
Who sings straight from her heart
To help the hours of toil to pass —
What more availeth art?
Out from the kitchen rises sweet
Her childish caroling.
The twilight choir is not complete
Till Teeny starts to sing.
— Washington Star.
rims
>£r W Q. '/tffitf
Richard Merton, head of the ship- i
ping firm of Merton & Co., prospered
and grew obese with his good fortune. J
His progress westward had at length
culminated in a pretentious mansion
in fhe charming suburb of Richmond,
where he looked forward to spending
the rest of his days in placid content
ment. It pleased him to provide a lib
eral hospitality and to surround him
self with good company.
Among the crowd of guests on this
particular evening was a young man,
tall and muscular, with a flowing mus
tache and distinguished features.
Herbert Hendley had never yet taken
life very seriously. He had had
thoughts of entering one of the pro
fessions, but hitherto his modest in
come had sufficed for immediate needs
and he had procrastinated.
He had met the Mertons at a house
party in Scotland and had gladly ac
cepted an invitation to renew the ac
quaintance on his return to the me
tropolis. He had now been several
times to the house and was fast estab
lishing a reputation as a constant vis
itor.
His attention was directed to the
farther end of the room, where a port
ly. pompous individual was chatting
with the charming Geraldine.
“It is stilling here. Would you not
like to take a turn on the terrace?"
he asked when lie reached her side.
“Thank you, it is warm," she as
sented.
“It is a perfect night," he said en
thusiastically.
“Yes. it is very pleasant,” and she
smiled at his earnestness.
“Do you remember our excursion up
the mountain side in Scotland and
how we got caught in the Scotch
mist?” he mused.
“And how you wrapped me up in
your great coat?" she exclaimed. “Am
I likely to forget it? What an object
I must have looked!” And she
laughed musically.
“Well, it was then.”
‘What was then?" she asked softly
as he stopped, seemingly lost in rev
erie.
“That ! first loved you.” he burst
forth. “I had not intended to speak
to-night. I have no right; I am a poor
man,” and he smiled bitterly. "But I
love you, Geraldine; you are dearer to
me than my own life. If you could
wait, dearest, till I am in a lxisition to
marry I would work hard to make an
income. Am I asking too much?”
"You can not ask me too much,”
she said simply, glancing up at him
with the loveliglit shining in her blue
eyes.
He caught her to his breast and
kissed her lips again and again. Then
straining her to him he whispered,
“Mv darling, you have made me hap
py.”
There was considerable commotion
in the Merton household on the follow
ing morning. A robbery had been
committed during the night.
Mr. Merton communicated with the
police and called in the aid of a pri
vate detective.
Then the housemaid made a discov
ery. While attending to her duties in
Mrs. Merton's room she found a man’s
gold cuff link. It was passed from
hand to hand and scrutinized closely.
Geraldine gave a start when it was
shown to her.
“Why, it is just like Herbert's—I
mean Mr. Hendley’s," she said, blush
r
“You cannot ask me too much."
ing. Suddenly realizing that her
words might connect him with the rob
bery she added quickly: “But of
course It can’t be his.”
The detective said nothing, but gave
her a sharp, penetrating glance.
The warm, breathless afternoon was
almost at an end and in his comfort
able bachelor chambers at Lancaster
terrace. West Kensington. Herbert
Hendley was entertaining his friend,
Dr. George Wallace, who sat at Ms
ease meditatively smoking a cigar and
listening with an amused expression
to Hendley’s recital.
“Preposterous!” exclaimed that
young man, excitedly pacing up and
down the room. “Preposterous to be
made out a common thief, a burglar,
a house breaker, and accused of rob
bing the father of the girl I love. It’s
—it's perfectly monstrous.’’
"It is certainly a trifle awkward,”
commented George with a smile.
“It’s enough to provoke a saint,
and—”
"Yes, yes,” interposed George, rais
ing his hand deprecatingly. “all that
may safely be left to the imagination.
Suppose we confine ourselves to the
simple facts of the case. You see, at
present I only know that you love Ger
aldine Merton, which shows a pretty
taste on your part, and that Mr. Mer
r
•'Most extraordinary thing!”
ton accuses you of committing a burg
lary.”
‘Well, the story is soon told. It ap
pears that during the night some !
thieves broke into the Mertons’ place j
and made off with £5,000 worth of j
Jewelry. A nice little haul. As I told |
you, I had intended looking up old
Merton this evening to ask his pater
nat blessing in the matter of Geral
dine. Imagine my surprise, therefore,
when a private detective chap called
on me about midday and without too
much euphemism charged me with
committing the theft, informing me
that if I would return the jewelry he
thought no further sjeps would be tak
en in the matter. I need scarcely say
1 was dumfounded for the moment.’’
“N’o—6.” said George, thoughtfully.
“How do you account for the presence
of your cuff link in the room?”
“Dashed if I know, except—”
‘Yes?"
‘ Well, there’s the possibility when
I was with Geraldine it might have
dropped.”
‘‘I see—dropped Into the folds of her
dress, and she carried it into the
room and deposited it unconsciously
upon the floor.”
“It’s the only way I can think of.”
“What do you want me to do in the
matter?” asked George, steadily puff
ing at his cigar.
“1 thought you wouldn't mind acting
as go-between and explain the affair
to Merton.”
“Hum! Tell him a prospective son
in-law is scarcely likely to rob his
prospective father-in-law? Eh?”
“Well—er—hang it all, man—It's
preposterous.”
Quite so, but the cuff link is nasty
evidence. However, much depends
upon the circumstances of the rob
bery. Look here. Bert, I won't prom
ise to see you through, but I’ll inter
view Merton and do the’ best I can for
you.”
Upon going down to breakfast at
the Merton house a trifle late the next
morning Dr. Wallace found his host
in a state of considerable perturbation.
Nothing, however, was said until the
meal was finished and they had re
tired to the library.
"Most extraordinary thing!” burst
forth Mr. Merton, as soon as he had
closed the door. "I found this neck
lace,” producing it fi*>m liis pocket,
“one of the stolen articles, on my
dressing table this morning.”
“Yes, I know,” said Dr. Wallace.
"You know!” exclaimed Mr. Merton,
staring in astonishment at his com
panion. “What do you mean? You
put—”
“No. It was never in my posses
sion.”
"But—how—did—it—come—there?”
“The thief put it there.”
“The thief!”
“Yes, so far as there is any theft
,in the matter. The fact is the jewels
have never been out of the house.”
“Never been out of the house!”
cried Mr. Merton. “I—don’t under
stand.”
“The explanation is simple. You are
a sleep-walker, Mj. Merton, and have
hidden the jewels yourself.”
Mr. Merton declared there was no
occasion for the young people to wait,
and expressed his intention of behav
ing handsomely toward them.
When a candidate addresses an au
dience of a thousand people he knows
that 995 of them are after ofHces, and
tho other five are the ones he has
promised to appoint
CARE OF WOUNDED SOLDIER?
American Praises the Methods of
Japanese Physicians.
Maj. Louis L. Seaman, former sur
geon in the United States volunteer
service, who was a close observer < f
hospital conditions during the Spanish
war and afterward in the Philippines,
has arrived at Cbefu after a tour oi
many Japanese hospitals within the
/.one of war in the far East, and has
made an extremely interesting state
meat of facts which came within his
notice. He speaks in high terms of
the Japanese method of caring for th3
wounded, which, he says, is one cf
noninterference with wounds on the
field except in cases where the vic
tims are in danger of bleeding to
death. In all other cases the treat
ment consists chiefly in the applica
tion of antiseptics and first-aid band
ages, leaving the more serious work
to be performed in the hospitals, the
result being that many men suffering
from bullet wounds at the front are
almost wholly recovered by the time
they reach Japan. One case is cited
of a ship bound to Japan with 2,20«>
wounded men on board, among whom
there was not a single death during
the voyage, and Maj. Seaman con
cludes that if a Japanese soldier is
hit and not killed outright the chances
are in favor of his recovery. He also
notes that the use of small caliber
bullets of high velocity frequently
produces aneurism in their victims.
This, it is believed, is an effect quite
unforeseen by military surgeons.
Things Animals Know.
“It is a queer thing the way animal!
learn the meaning of certain words.’
said Mr. W. T. Reeves of Little Rock
"I remember as a boy a certain old
gray mare that belonged to our family
which one of my older brothers ha<
ridden the whole time of his servict
in the confederate army. She was a
magnificent saddle animal, and ordi
narily as gentle as a lamb, but if any
one ventured to say, when on hei
back, Yx>k out, the Yankees are com
irg!’ she would proceed to bolt at th>
top of her speed as though terror
stricken, and it was a difficult thin;;
to quiet her down. I suppose the
words had in ^ome way been borm
in upon her equine intelligence during
the conflict, and they must have had
some frightful meaning.
“Once I addressed them to her. to
my sorrow, for. suddenly wheeling,
she left the road and plunged into a
thick piece of woodland, with the r»
suit that a projecting limb knocked
me senseless to the ground. Aftei
that, when astride the old mare. I
studiously avoided all reference to th ■
Yankees."—Washington Post.
Rather a Puzzler.
While stumping the state during
tht last gubernatorial campaign. Gov.
Frazier of Tennessee entered the i
free of a village hotel, where he d -
covered a corpulent German seat I
at a table, writing. Suddenly the T* i
ton paused in his task, frowned
scratched his head, chewed the end
of his pen. and looked so obvious! >
worried that Mr. Frazier good-nature;!
ly asked:
“My friend, can I be of any servi
to you?”
“Yah,” was the prompt and re
lieved reply; “blease tell me vedd* t
you puts an ’e' behindt ‘before’?” ’
It was several seconds before the
affable candidate grasped the man’s
meaning and gave the desired infer
mation.—New York Times.
Giving Out Information.
Charles S. Mellen, president of ih«
New York, New Haven and Hartford
railroad, was accosted in the tick '
office one time by a testy individua'.
who seemed to be making his
visit to New York. Taking Mr. Mel
Ion for a ticket agent, he asked short
ly. “Where's Gorham?”
“What Gorham?” said Mr. Mell<>-:
pleasantly, without enlightening tl >
man as to his Identity. “Gorham.
Mass., Gorham silver, or what?”
“It's your business to know who: :
’tis, I should think,” replied the ire.,
cible hayseed.
"Well,” said Mr. Mellen. thoughtful
ly, “Gore 'em ought to be near Bui! s
Head ”—New Y’ork Times.
The Resemblance.
Some years ago William T. Smed! \
boarded in the same house with ;
young man who prided himself on *1
likeness to the artist—though, t: ;t'i
to tell, he was very plain, while Mr
Smedley was quite handsome. On
morning at breakfast he turned to Mr
Smedley and said:
“Do you know, I am thought ver;
like you?”
“Indeed,” was the answer, “I can
not see any resemblance.”
“Well, give me a good look now
and tell me who I am like.”
The artist looked at him steadily
for a few moments, and then replied:
“You look only like the boardi" ■
house martyr at the steak.”—N a
York Times.
Love in the Daisies.
I.ove went where the daisies seem >.l
Sweeter than the drenms he dream
Rested in the meadows fair—
Saying: “All of Life is here!
Let me sleep—
Let me sleep:
I shall never wake to weep!”
And the stars looked down and kls e ]
Love’s gold hair, in dreamy mist—
Singing to the dawning Day:
“Haste not up the Orient way!
I,at him sleep—
Oh, let him sleep:
Let him never wake to weep!”
But the Dawn was cruel-kind—
Kissed the eyes that Sleep made bl: • 1
Led the heart the daisies knew
Where the thorns in crimson grew!
Oh, Silence deep!
Oh. Night, and Sleep!
God guard the days where Love mu«i
weep!
—F. L. S., in Atlanta Constitut! >a,
A Parable.
A woman lost two little charms, tlia
join* gift of God and a good man. She
hunted long for them. She searched
in parlor, in ballroom and In theater
She crowded men from the great,
gaunt buildings where they earned theii
bread and hunted there for her losl
jewels. She did things that made the
world take a quick little breath, and
then call her a “good fellow.” Bui
she found them not. Weary and worn
she went back to the beginning, and
there, in kitchen and nursery, she
found the two “white stones,” and
written on one was "happiness” and
on the other “love.”—Chicago Record
Herald.