BEING THE CHRONICLES OF A FAMOUS PREFECT OF
POLICE DURING THE REGIME OF THE SECOND
EMPIRE, IN THE. REIGN OF NAPOLEON III,
NOW PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME.
THE DUKE OF LAMB AY’S
DIAMONDS.
fRon Hi<s Foam- Covered Li pa Issued ^
a LJau/acal Yell..
MURDERER most
magnificent!" was
the phrase coined
by Monsieur Claude
when referring to
his grace the duke
of Lambay in the
years following that
worthy gentleman's
departure from
up his residence
Be it understood
in thus speaking
himself abhorrent
o' the singular character of the noble
man in question. On the contrary the
rated chief of police spoke in accents
tiiai almost approached admiration.
As a scientist in criminology he re
timed to discuss dark deeds wrought
by unprincipled people from a moral
standpoint, his criticisms being coldly
dispassionate. Therefore bis descrip
tion of the duke must be taken strict
ly as a tribute to that gentleman's
infernal ingenuity.
Had lie been aske I to state his
opinion of the duke on other grounds
ii i» possible that he would merely
have smiled his inscrutable, official
smile and declined to be interviewed
further. But there were many other
people living under the flag of the
second empire who would have been
; -re'Ctly willing to burst into fervid
< i quence on the subject. For the
< : ntric ways of his grace formed
e . rtiitful topic of conversation among
Paris to take
in Switzerland,
tl : ,M. Claude
did not express
iu: classes ot Parisian society.
It must be confessed that the re
marks of the majority of his critics
were the reverse of complimentary,
act! with good reason. This man, in
whose veins ran the royal blood of
England, had by his monstrous ac
tions and dark mysterious mode of
living, completely severed all bonds of
sympathy between him and the hu
man race. The members of his own
great family did not look upon him
v ith less scorn than did those whom
chance brought into contact with his
•‘epnlsive personality.
That the duke was perfectly aware
■if the emotions which he excited in
the breasts of his fellow creatures is
not a fact to cause surprise, for few
people cared to disguise their feelings
in regard to him. Impervious to in
sult and seeming to court rather than
arcld criticism, he took an insane de
light in gloating over the sinister
reputation he had established, and se
cure in the prestige and power con
ferred by his wealth permitted no
chance of adding fresh infamy to his
name to escape him.
The house in which he dwelt was
no mean index of the perverse nature
of its proprietor. It stood, in the
early sixties, in a secluded corner of
the old Beaujon quarter, painted from
eaves to foundation in bright broad
rhripes of varied hues.
The building of odd design and pe
culiar shape, nestled in an angle of
neglected gardens surrounded by high
walls. An air of ghastly gloom en
veloped the whole estate, an air that
was in perfect keeping with the mys
terious inhabitant, who came and went
secretly by a small door in the wes
tern wing, the main entrance, guarded
by large, rusty iron gates, always
remaining closed and offering an in
surmountable obstacle to the curious
neighbors.
The treasure contained in this man
sion consisted of 10,000,000 francs'
worth of diamonds, and indeed the
Louse might have been described as
a species of gigantic strong box where
in a cunning fiend kept watch and
ward over the precious contents. For
the duke was a miser of the most
pronounced kind, a miser who in
point of avariciousness has seldom, if
ever, been equaled. It was for this
reason that his pursuit of pleasure
frequently led him to the lowest slums
of Paris where his name had grown
to be a by-word among the denizens
of the underworld. "As mean as the
I
duke of Lambay" was a phrase which
was often uttered by the lips of the
gamins of Paris.
If the grotesque appearance of his
mansion was such as to awaken sus
picions of the owner's insanity, one
might infer upon second thoughts
that there was method in his madness
and that he hoped to inspire fear
thereby in the minds of his enemies.
And- the number of those ene
mies was legion, ranging from
the lowest to the highest mem
bers of society. Not only did
his chosen associates of the gutter
hate him. but his family ever treas
ured resentfully the memory of the
fraud by which, when cast out of his
duchy, the discrowned prince succeed
ed in annexing the diamond millions
which rightfully belonged to the
crown.
But the duke was far too cunning
to rely entirely upon the outside ap
pearance of his forbidding lair and the
man traps that lurked here and there
in the grounds, for protection. Ere
a hostile step could approach his
apartments a thousand bells would
startle the air with their brazen
clangor. Every door was equipped
with a hell and all of these doors
converged towards the bedroom and
private study of the duke. In the
rear of these two rooms reposed the
strong box which contained the dia
monds. And here a row of loaded pis
tols communicated by unseen wires
with electric hells.
Should a careless hand unwitting
ly, press one of the buttons which op
erated the alarms a sheet of flame
and volley of bullets would scorch
and shatter the luckless intruder.
The ghoul-like appearance of the
possessor of this great treasure was
such as to shock the sensibilities of
the most hardened citizen. His age
was an unsolved problem guarded by
a mask of paint that lent a frightful
fixity to a set of cadaverous features
encircled by false whiskers and sur
mounted by a wig of nondescript
color. In his movements he resem
bled an immense puppet, walking with
tense, jerky steps as though every
stride were controlled by invisible
strings worked by a concealed opera
tor. A curious rattle, caused by the
striking against his corset steels of
a chain mail shirt which he wore
constantly as a protection against the
possible stab of an assassin, awoke
in the mind of the observer the no
tion of a living skeleton.
Living as he did the person of this
erratic nobleman was an object of no
small solicitude to the police of Paris
who were constantly called upon to
extricate him from the intrigues and
plots of the ruffianly partakers of his
pleasures. It might be imagined that
he must inevitably have fallen a vic
tim to some of the many schemes
hatched by those desirous of acquiring
hfs wealth, but. though the perils to
which he was exposed were numerous
and deadly it pleased an inscrutable
providence to enable him to avoid the
pitfalls which surrounded him. Nor
were there wanting instances where
this degraded scion of a noble house
was compelled to appear before the
authorities in the role of a defend
ant. in most of these cases the duke
was selected as an object for black
mail, but on one occasion at least
there was scant doubt of his guilt.
Among his servants there was a
1 pretty young English lass named Ellen
Crosby who had not been long in his
service before attracting the admira
tion of the duke, who made advances
to her which were indignantly spurned
by the girl, the latter evidently being
a different type from the class of fe
males that usually belonged to his
grace's household. Exactly what
transpired within the walls of the
gloomy mansion after Ellen repulsed
her master was never brought to
light, but the fact remains that on
the morning of November 20, 1863,
her lifeless body was discovered ly
ing in the garden below the west wing
of the house, it was evident that
death had been the result of a fall
from an open second story window
under which the body was found.
Thus Jar the police investigation
went, and not much further, for none
of the domestics who were examined
admitted having heard any unusual
noise during the night which might
have helped to explain the tragedy.
The duke testified that, feeling indis
posed. he had retired at an early hour
after swallowing a sedative prescribed
by his physician for insomnia. He
had slumbered heavily, according to
his statement, and knew nothing of
the girl's death until notified by his
confidential valet. Tiie latter, an Eng
lishman. 26 years of age, was closely
questioned by the detectives, it having
come to their knowledge that a strong
affection was supposed to have ex
isted between him and the deceased.
He proved a complete alibi showing
that he had passed the night away
from the house with a friend, having
obtained leave for that purpose, and
not returning until just after the body
was found. His demeanor, as was
perhaps natural when his fondness for
the girl was taken into consideration,
was that of a man half frantic with
grief, but he bore up well under the
cross examination and replied to every
question asked him with a promptness
and lucidity that left no doubt as to
his innocence.
1 he duke turthermore averred that
the sir! had acted strangely for sever
al days and that he believed her to
have committed suicide. This asser
tion was corroborated by several of
i tbe servants, although their testimony
i did not greatly impress the officers,
who were weil aware that none of the
duke’s domestics was likely to con
tradict any statement made by their
employer. Shaw alone ventured to de
! ny the allegation, but his word w as not
| of sufficient weight to establish the
girl's sanity, and in the end Ellen
Crosby was officially declared to have
j destroyed herself while in an un
I sound state of mind.
It may be plainly stated, however,
' that neither M. Claude nor his assist
; ants believed that the unfortunate
j victim had gone to her death as de
! scribed by the verdict. Popular opin
j ion held the duke responsible for her
I demise and in their hearts the inmates
j of the prefecture agreed with this
I view. But to attempt to convict the
duke was useless. The waters of the
fountain of justice were tainted by
many a foul current during the sway
of the second empire, and peremptory
orders from a higher source brought
the investigation to an abrupt close.
The duke's wealth enabled him to set
in motion powerful influences which
rendered him immune to the penal
ties which would have menaced an
ordinary person in such a situation.
Meanwhile, to the surprise of many,
Henry Shaw continued in the duke’s
service. He had succeeded in gaining
the confidence of his master and all
of the iatter's secrets, even including
that of the fraud by which he had
obtained the greater part of his
wealth, were in his possession.
Beyond expressing his belief in El
len Crosby's sanity, Shaw made no ef
fort towards exposing the true facts
of the girl's sad fate, and wrapped
himself in a mantle of impenetrable
reserve that effectually withstood the
inquiries of all his associates.
But still waters run deep, and this
man who apparently took no further
interest in the tragedy was in reality
planning a bitter revenge upon the
individual whom he regarded as the
author of his sweetheart's death. He
knew that the hardest blow he could
strike the miser would be to deprive
him of his treasures that were dearer
to him than his life blood. The first
step he took in the furtherance of his
scheme was to write a letter to the
duke of Molinford in London, pledging
himself in return for a sum of 100,000
francs to restore to the family of the
duke of Lambay the diamonds of
which their unscrupulous kinsman
had defrauded them.
Shaw had made a careful study of
the strong box and the arsenal de
fending it and watched patiently for
an opportunity when he could open
it without risking annihilation by so
doing. The coffer containing the
diamonds was built in the wall of the
bedroom adjoining the duke's study.
As before stated its steel door
was equipped with a pistol battery,
aud outside of the inner defense was
a wooden door covered with drapery.
Once the steel door was made fast by
the owner it was impossible for any
one not possessing a knowledge of the
secret springs to open it.
On December 7. 18675, the duke re
moved a few stones front the coffer
for the purpose of having them reset
by a jeweler. With almost incredible
carelessness in a man of his sus
picious temperament, he forgot for
the first time to lock tne inner stee;
door. Shaw, who was present when
his master opened the coffer, was
quick to note the duke's negligence.
He waited until his master had gone
out. and then taking a file he carried
in preparation for just such a con
tingency. forced the lock of the outer
door and opened the inner one. As
the bolt of the inner lock had not been
shot into its socket the pistol battery
was rendered harmless and the muz
zles of the loaded weapons gaped im
| potently in the valet's face.
A great treasure lay before his
gloating eyes. There were diamonds
of fabulous value, jeweled decora
tions and gold iu abundance. Care
fully Shaw selected the mosl valuable
stones, stowed them away in a leather
bag which he had provided for this
auspicious moment, and having filled
his pockets with gold, left the house.
He went stranght to the railway sta
tion and caught the first express
train for Boulogne.
The duke returning home that even
ing missed the familiar figure of his
trusted attendant. As the hours wore
on and Shaw did not appear a ter
rible suspicion flashed across the mi
ser's mind. He rushed to his pre
cious strong box. tore aside the silken
draperies and beheld the forced lock.
Flinging open the doors a glance told
him that the most cherished gems
of his collection had disappeared.
There were missing diamonds and
money to the extent of 4,000.000
francs.
For a tew minutes the panic-stricken
duke raged furiously, shrieking in
his high falsetto voice at the servants
whom his cries had summoned to the
spot. It is questionable whether the
approach of death could have caused
more anguish in his avaricious heart.
The contemplation of his treasures
had been the great, supreme delight
of a nature so warped and corrupted
that naught else in life could stir to
rapture the thin blood in his withered
veins. At last he cooled down, and
with the abatement of his frenzy came
the hunger for revenge.
Messengers were at once dispatched
to the prefecture and in a short time
two detectives made their appearance.
Having replied to their interroga
tions the duke inquired if their chief.
M. Claude, was in his office. On re
ceiving a reply in the affirmative he
ordered his carriage and drove post
haste to the head of the police de
partment.
M. Claude was at this time a man
about 45 years of age. He was of
middle height, sinewy of frame and
possessed of a pair of keen steel
blue eyes before whose penetrating
gaze many a habitue of the under
world had shrunk and stammered
forth damning confession of crime.
Living in the corrupt period his un
compromising honesty of purpose
shone all the clearer by contrast with
the intriguing element which sur
rounded him and rendered him as re
markable for his integrity as he was
famous for surpassing skill in his
profession. He was seated at his
desk, bending over a pile of corre
spondence, when his ducal visitor en
tered.
“I salute your grace," he said,
suavely. "Pray be seated.”
The nobleman allowed his thin,
emaciated figure to sink limply into a
chair, and drawing a flask of perfume
from his pocket removed the stopper
and inhaled the contents before speak
ing. M. Claude watched him coldly
and when the duke raised his head
said gravely:
“I regret to hear of the loss your
grace has sustained. I presume it is
in connection with the robbery of
your diamonds that I am honored by
this visit?"
‘‘Yes, yes," said the duke, distract
edly. “But above all I wish to have
this affair conducted so that the de
tails of the case will not be made pub
lic.”
“We will endeavor to respect your
wishes in the matter, your grace,"
responded the chief.
“Listen, M. Claude,” said the duke,
in subdued tones. “I know that I
can trust you. Now the truth is that
1 cannot afford to appear in court to
prosecute this thief should you arrest
him. It is imperative that the former
history of the jewels which he has
stolen should not become a topic of
public interest.”
“If 1 am not mistaken,” -returned
M. Claude, languidly, “the diamonds
in question at one time provoked a
serious discussion between your grace
and the duke of Molinford."
The duke started. "How (Jo you
know this?" he queried, uneasily. ,
M. Claude's even, white teeth
flashed in a brilliant smile.
"We learn many curious things in
the course of our profession," he said,
quietly.
"As you are acquainted with the
circumstances then, you will under
stand that it would be by no means
agreeable to have them exposed in
court for the benefit of the masses,"
said the duke, anxiously.
"Exactly,” responded M. Claude.
"And the question of how the stones
came into your possession does not
in the least affect the fact of the
robbery by your valet, nor would 1
have mentioned ihe circumstance had
not your grace referred to it in the
first place."
The duke gave vent to a sigh of re
lief.
"You are a model of discretion, my
dear M. Claude,” he said. "For the
present I will hid you adieu."
As events proved, it would have
been vastly better for Henry Shaw,
having executed his master stroke of
plunder and revenge, had he trusted
to the assistance of some professional
tniet in aisposing 01 ms oooiy. for
his endeavor to gain the aid and grati
tude of the duke of Molinford recoiled
upon him in a startling fashion. The
latter, a prince of the British blood
royal, waxed indignant over the pre
sumption that he would consent to act
as a rogue's confederate, and turned
the ex-valet's letter over to the Lon
don police. They, in turn, forwarded
it to the prefecture at Paris, thereby
furnishing M. Claude with information
which made certain the capture o?
the man who had so far eluded the
vigilance of his most cunning sleuths.
In a postcript to the letter, Shaw, to
whom it did not seem to have oc
curred that the duke of Molinford
would refuse to benefit by his ser
vices, stated that he would wait at
Boulogne until a messenger arrived
from England with authority to re
ceive the diamonds and pay him the
reward demanded. Immediately upon
receiving the clue from the London
police M. Claude started for Boulogne,
and the following day saw him seated
in the Hotel d'Angleterre in company
with Henry Shaw whose own heed
lessness had thus delivered him iuto
iht hands of the law.
The ex-valet's face was downcast
and sullen, and M. Claude surveyed
him with a certain amount of benig
nant pity.
"I do not mind telling you that per
sonally 1 regret in a certain sense be
ing obliged to put you under arrest."
said the chief. "Officially, of course,
1 regard you as a successful criminal.
But your story with reference to the
unfortunate Ellen Crosby leads me'to
declare that your former master
richly deserves any retribution that
may overtake him.”
"I might have thrust a knife in his
heart," said Shaw, looking up. "But
i who know him so well, knew that
the keenest agony 1 could inflict upon
him would be to deprive him of the
idols lie worships, the bright gems for
which he sold his worthless soul to
Satan.”
"That," said M. Claude, gravely, "is
probably true. But in a game where
Tate deals the card.-, the boldest and
most skillful gambler knows not what
the end may be. And this time the
duke has won the trick."
Much to the surprise of certain peo
ple who knew of the capture of Shaw,
the duke of Lainbav upon receiving
his valuables back positively refused
to prosecute the prisoner. M. Claude
was one of the few who smiled wisely,
for he was aware that it was the
dread of scandal that brought about
this determination on his grace’s part, i
Nay, even more, the duke actually
brought such powerful influence to
bear in high places that the charge
against the prisoner was dropped.
Prior to the release of Shaw from the
prison where no was confined pending
prosecution, the owner of the dia
monds paid another visit to M. Claude.
“I wish to ascertain," he said to the
chief, “when and to what time the
wretch who robbed me is to be re
stored to freedom?”
"Your grace's motive is no doubt
a philanthropic one?” queried M.
Claude, with the ghost of a smile
hovering on his lips. (
"My motive is that I may take ad
ditional precautions against becoming
a victim of his audacity a second
time," rejoined the duke, testily.
"1 think you overestimate your dan
ger," returned M. Claude, tranquilly.
"Nevertheless your grace is welcome
to the information. M. Shaw leaves
the prison at eight o'clock to-morrow
morning.”
From the hour that the released
prisoner stepped across the thresh
old of the gaol into the streets of
Paris those who knew him saw him no
more, and it was generally supposed
that he had returned to his native
land. Two weeks later the newspa
pers contained an item to the effect
that the eccentric duke of Lambay
was leaving Paris and would reside
for the future in Switzerland. On
the following day the chief of police
received a communication from the
nobleman in question which read as
follows:
"Monsieur Claude: Enclosed you
will find a key which will admit you.
by the small door in the west wing to
my late habitation. In the upper
rooms there is naught but dust and
emptiness to greet the, eye.; But in
a cellar below I have left a souvenir
which may interest you.
"In common with many other mis
taken persons 1 fear that you'have
hitherto supposed me dead to all feel
ing *aVe that of gain. Desolated by
the. thought of leaving a false im
pression on the mind of such an' ad
mirable' man I have endeavored to
prove to you that a prince of my blood
is Competent ;to execute- reveirge upon
one. who • incuts' Rjs displeasure
through a far more satisfactory me
dium than that of your police courts.
Hasten therefore, my dear friend, and
behold the proof of my assertion.
"Lambay."
' Shortly after recehriift- the above
missive, M. Claude, accompanied by
three detectives.' .approached the de
serted house in the Beaujon quarter
and entered by the side door. The in
terior of 'the .building, denuded of its
rich furnishings, -gaped black and
empty before the,rti. Mr. Claude sig
naled to one 6f his 'assistant £'to light
the lantern he carried, j , »
"We must seek the 'duke's* souve
nir underground."' he said.' and direct
ed bis steps to a stairway in the rear
which wound its way down to the cel
lars, of the' mansion. Midway on the
steps he paused and held hip his hand
“Listen!", he said, with a warning
gesture.
A muffled moan, at times .low and
hoarse and again rising into a strident
shriek, broke upon their ears. There
succeeded a harsh, horrible snarling
as of a brute in pain or anger.
M. Claude shook his head in re
sponse to the questioning gaze of his
men.
“Some new deviltry of his grace,"
he said, drily. “Let us proceed, but
be wary."
He produced a pistol and having
examined the charge careful!} crept
cautiously downward with- the detec
tives at his heel-s. Reaching the foot
of the stairs they found themselves
in a vault which apparently extended
•under the entire building. It was
traversed by a corridor and on either
side yawned the open doors, of small
rooms apparently intended to accom
modate provision and wine supplies
for the house.
The noise, which for a few moments
had died away into silenee. now broke
forth with redoubled vigor from the
far end of the corridor, and the
clashing of.iron against' stone mingled
with the hoarse, guttural'growls and
ear splitting cries which had appalled
the listeners before.
, The detectives paused and glanced
askance at each other, but M. Claude's
stern voice rang oitt crisply.
' Forward 1“ he commanded. “Holde
the lantern high,' Franz, so that its
rays may shine before' us." '
Peering into the gloom they ad
vanced cautiously-and came to a halt
before the closed-door of a room at
the end of the passage. M.-Claude
■ turned the handle and the door swung
open, easily. A snarl . like Nthat of a
wild benst caused them to spring
back swiftly, but the.next instant they
rushed into. the. ropm uttering a
simultaneous "cry of horror at • the
sight that met their startled gaze.
Chained to. an iron stapje in the
wall there crouched in- a corner the
.naked figure ^of a man whose wide
staring eyebsrthf glared, hideously in
the yellow light of the. lantern. His
face, crusted with blood v clots and
horribly facetted, writhed»ecravhlstve-'
ly as they looked upon it. Then from
'his foartscovered lips issued a mani
acal yell, "Which changed-at .its high
est note into a series of. barks and
growls; 'deep ;jhd menacing- as the
hay. of. a blood-hound.
Des'pite the awful change in the vis
age pt the-.unfortunate, M. Claude reel
ognized him at.once,',
“It is Henry Shaw," he ejaculated,
“but who or what is that lying beside.
min . ,^-. m
' In the'shadow of the corner, could be
difegprned the 'vague outlines of a
dark sltape ffyfntf' ‘(jrbfetrfctie* 'and the
man with thb lantern "brought ,th9
light to-bear upon it. " ' 1 :
"A dog—and dead.: M. Claude,"' he
exclaimed. "See how its swollen
tongue protrudes from its mouth!" ‘
M. Claude beat forward and picked
up an object that his foot had' trod
upon and held it to the light. It was
a piece of meat thickly encrusted' with
salt. The chief .drew a deep breath
as the truth flashed upon him.
"The explanation is here," he said.
“This is the duke's revenge and one
well worthy of.him. He caused this
wretched creature to be kidna'ped on
his release from prison,; chained him
here with a savage mastiff, fed the
brute on salt meat* and allowed it
no water until it went mad and at
tacked its companion prisoner.” •
"But the beast is dead." said Franz,
staring at the inert, bulk of the huge
animal.
"Strangled," responded M. Claude.
"They fought to the death and the
man conquered, but at a frightful
cost. His hands are. bitten into mere
shreds of flesh. And he too is a vic
tim of hydrophobia.”.
As he finished speaking the maniac
uttered another terrific yeil and sprang
to an erect posture -with his chain
clanking furiously. He stood for an
instant with mutilated hands out
stretched and then lurching forward ’
fell heavily on the sfope flobr. His
limbs twitched Convulsively, stiffened
and •lay‘!stHlV M.gOlaude (bent over
hint and’ saw that a film of, ghastly,
white" hAi "Settled over the staring
eyes. * ■ '!", „• *
?It. is .finished, 'be said softly, to his
meD..;"Ther.y«jgeatieerof the-.d’uke has
run.its.oqjirse.” .
•'(Cowrfgh.^- ’by 1V.‘- G. Cliapman.) - .,
• < .<».•»*• •• | ?'/.* ■
HOUSE WHERE MARK TWAIN S
HERO LIVED TORN DOWN.
Hannibal, Mo., Where Place Stood,
Unconscious of Its Greatness—
Anecdote of House and of
the Two Mark Twains.
Hannibal. - Mo.—Huckleberry Finn'--*
ancient habitation in North Hannibal,
near the riverfront, has passed from
the earth. Since Hannibal has admit
ted that. MarK •, w.«s- reall; a
giyat titaji.^it has :taketj_iyjfarti< ul . •
pride-.t in "i-he "hoary-h’fldfrt&r.'idomicil*
rhVd’the" revenue der-lvtAf1 front post
chrds showing the-• stituetiisfe would
have built a' much, better house R
H. Coons.' the owner of ti)e jtroperty
recently had the “Huck”/Fitrn home
torn down’to erect a row of modern
flats; which will have, .it is hoped a
livening effect on the . somewhat
dreamy district of North Hjunibal
A chararteristiovstory'is ttrid in con
nection with the house. Otje'’summer
day a gentleman from the past came
to. Hannibal "to secure dado for a
Mark" Twain-story. He could find Ho]
lidav hill easily enough without a
guide, because it towered up ’i> h*
sky’on- the north end. and prevented
the" town's' further extension unle>^
the good citizens take a notion to tun
nel. ‘ •
An ice man was asked for the direc
tion to Huck Finn's cottage.
"Never heard of .him," said the na
tive. ,"He. sure don't live in these
? - -...
- Th'e'stranger went west a block- anj
accosted a boy with a fishing rod on
his shoulder.
"He don’t run with our crowd.” he
said, ".Maybe.-he lives down by the
bridge.1’- , *• - ’ ,
"I'm not looking for Huck F^nn him
self,” said the visitor. "He's dead, btit
"Then you might try the grave
yard." replied the boy. "It's up yon
der—the stones is marked, I reckon."
Presently a citizen came along who
could furnish the information. Huck'
home was only two blocks from where
the ice man said "he didn't live in
those parts." In the basement door
stood a black “aunty," with her hands
resting on-her -hips. She wore .a ;tri
colored handkerchief on her head.
“1 knows." she said; "you's one o'
dent relicky hunters."
"I'm engaged in. gathering some ma
terial in reference to Mark Twain,"
House Where Huckleberry Finn Once
Lived.
said the easterner, pleasantly, “and as
this is—"
“Well, you' needn't so no furder."
said the big aunty hospitably. "He's
right heah. "
"Who's her??"
"Mark Twain."
"In this house?”
"To-be sho!.v
“What's he doing here?" asked the
surprised visitor.
"Ah-doun' know, but yo' kin cum in
an' see..'.' •
She led the way to another under
ground apartment, and, with pride,
pointed to something qn a pallet. The'
stranger's eyes, gradually becoming
accustomed to the semi-light, distin
guished an infant pickantriny busily
endeavoring to swallow its glossy arm.
As the two came and stood by the bed
it suspended pperations and thought
fully regarded them out of two big
white eyes.
"Quite a baby." said the guest.
"How'd you come to call it Marl:
Twain?” ...
"Da tole me lf Ah did that,' Mist-ill
Sant Clemons, wot used to Mb' heali.
would sen' 'im sumthin' nice," i* *
"Did he?" • » ■
"Ah reckon Mistah Clemens. thot;hit
was nice," she said, doubtfully: '/he
sent im a raazer an' a lookin' glass.
"Mr.-Clemens was grateful?"
"Mebbe so. And he writted to hiy
ole man sayin' if the raazer did .what
he expected he'd Ire pleased to sen' a
tombstone fer th' baby.”
Will Breed Alliflatprs.
One thousand alligators-, ranging. •
from the length of a lead perns! to
monsters that could crush a man in
their jaws have arrived from the
southwestern part of Louisiana and
were landed loose in a new gator
farm in East Los Angeles. They were
■brought in a specially arranged freight
car over the Southern Pacific.—Los
.Angeles Times. , .
Cheap Gas Production.
Prof. Blau <of Germany has discov
ered a new process of developing il
luminating gas that may be bought by
the bottle at the rate of 15 cents a
pound. A 22-pound cylinder at 15 cents
a pound would give a 50-candle power
light for four months used four hours
a day. That is to say, the cost would
be 1 1-7 cents an hour, or, say, $1.25 a
month, or even less.—Brooklyn Eagle.
Future for Egypt.
An Egyptian paper says that the na
tive families pay an average tax of
$4.85 an acre, 91; 28.5 per cent, of the
crop. Foreigners and land companies
hold 655.000 acres. Through their in
solvency and liquidation, and the re
distribution of the estates formed
since 1902,. it is probable that large
amounts of gold may be unhoarded.
Much the Best.
“What is the best thing for a poet
to have?" asked tht? bardlet, "a deep
knowledge of human nature, a temper
ament that enters into the emotions
of others or a natural gift for saving
things beautifully?" "All yoUr. sues* s
missed, replied the .veteran rhymer.
The best , thing for a poet, to have is
a job.” .. 7 . ; ,
" All' Keystones. t
Every stone in an arch is at key
stone, though the name is usually ap
plied to the center one? - * ’ *
