HomeMy WebLinkAboutLucknow Sentinel, 1905-09-14, Page 3steady in his habits is a man who makes
costly mistakes, he said. In this way the
railway companies are doing more effec
tive temperance work than some of our
temperance societies or churches.
When you ask your friends to tea be sure that
you have GOOD TEA. A cup of good tea is
delightful
' TEA. It’s the choice of the careful, that’s
why YOU should use it.
LOVE AND A TITLE
“I didn’t expect this pleasure, Lady
Ferndale 1 ”
“What pleasure?” asks Jeanne, inno
cently.
“Of—of seeing you,” he says. “ I had
no idea that Mr. Vane was—in fact, it’s
all a mystery to me! How can he be
Lord Ferndale—has anybody died? Has
he come into the title? I didn’t know
he was connected with the Femdales,
even!”
Jeanne hangs her head and turns color.
In his eagerness, Clarence has bent down
to hear the explanation, and it is at this
moment that Vane looks around the
epergne and sees them.
“He—he always was the Marquis of
Femdale,” says Jeanne.
“Good heavens!” exclaims Clarence,
looking back, mentally, “ he was! And
we all patted him on the back and pat-
• ■ ronized him! And that old fellow,
Lambton, came the grand ? Well, if
a fellow goes in for that sort of thing,
he must take the consequences—that is,
I mean, of course, who was to know?”
Jeanne says nothing, but her long
lashes droop over her eyes.
“Who was to know—except, of course,
yourself Lady Femdale. By
kept it well!”
Then he stops short, as
Jove, you
a sudden
thought takes possession of him, body
and soul, and makes his heart beat.
She knew it, and that was the reason
why she refused him.
It is a welcome, a delicious thought!
If tue great Marquis of Ferndale had not
been his rival, he might have won her.
After all, she may have cared for him—
Clarence! Such things have been.
It makes his heart beat madly
drains a glass of chablis, sends his en
tree—for which he has been waiting ten
minutes—away untouched, and is only
brought to coinposure by meeting V ane’s
dark eyes fixed on him.
“Lord Ferndale must be a wonderfully
clever fellow!” he says, with sudden
moodiness.
“Yes,” says Jeanne, and at the cold
ness of the assent Clarence’s face clears
again. He glances around at her with
greater courage; yes, she is as beautiful,
she is more beautiful than ever; and,
■what is more surprising, she is just as
girlish; just, in fact, the Jeanne who set
his heart beating nine months ago, and
whose refusal of his love has only in
creased it tenfold.
And Jeanne ?
Well, Jeanne had grown more chari
table and less critical. Clarence has
improved in appearance, in manners, in
the quantity and quality of his brains,
and she is not sorry to see him.
You cannot feel unamiable with a
good-looking young fellow who waits on
you with hand and eye, discusses your
taste in the matter of the menu as anx-
iously as if life and death depended on
•it,, nearly breaks his neck in getting a
flower from the epergne, because you
happen to say that it has a pretty bud,
and evidently is doing, in all and every
• possible way, his best to be agreeable.
Jeanne has been living a life of soli
tude for the last three months, with new
friends, and a husband only in name ;
here is an old friend, and I say it is not
to be wondered at that she should un
bend and be agreeable.
But is there no other reason than that
of natural amiability for the gentle
smile with which she enraptures poor
Clarence? I wonder why she looks as
kance at the fair face opposite, which is
so close to Vane’s handsome head that
no one can hear what the soft, red lips
are saying.
And what are they saying? Do you
think my Lady Lucelle is making love to
Vane? Nothing of the sort; she is not
so foolishly inexperienced as to commit
such a blunder. She knows Vane bet
ter, alas, than Jeanne does.
- She does better than make love to him
—she amuses him. Not a word of his
marriage, not a word of that bitter,
cruel, scornful letter, not a word con
cerning Jeanne or herself does those soft,
red, mobile lips utter.
No; at the slightest word on any of
these subjects, Vane, she knows, would
turn to stone or become like a hedge
hog, all points. She amuses him, and
when Lady Lucelle lavs herself out to
amuse, no man, scarcely a woman, can
resist lier.
At first he is—well, sulky! meets her
little, witty, pointed remarks with dry
and caustic monosyllables; but she is
not daunted. From subject she flits
easily, gracefully, adorning with her
i bright, delicate wit all she touches, un
til at last Vane’s lips curve, and a slight
smile lights up his grave face.
“You still retain your wonderful spir
its, Lady Lucelle,” he says, as if it were
wrong for him. .
Lady Lucelle shrugs her shoulders.
They are so white and soft, and exquis-
itelv molded as one of Boucher s Ven
uses.
“ Thanks,” she
“ It is because
he
said,
I have
buried myself in desert solitudes
“How I envy you!” she says—and she
sighs lightly. “I once asked Lord Fred
erick, the great wit, whom he should
consider the happy man. What do you
think he said? The man who at five-
and-thirty has lost his memory and sav
ed his digestion.”
“At any rate, my digestion is all
right,” says Vane, laughing.
“And having lost your memory you
are the happy man,” she says.
And she looked up at him with a sweep
of the dark lids that give depth
meaning to the dark blue eyes.
Vane seeks safety in silence. If to be
envied is to be happy, Vane ought to be
in the highest state of felicity, for men
are envying him the lovely girl who
sits opposite him with the Ferndale dia
monds in her hair.
Slowly but surely the elaborately
planned dinner works through its courses
fantastic fabrics of sweetstuffs take the
place of more solid food; pomegranates
and melons lie demurely on fig leaves
from Alexandria, two scent fountains
throw up miniature jets of perfumed
water, conversation grows general, and
the countess rises as Sparks, the butler,
comes toward Charlie bearing a bottle of
yellow seal.
Jeanne gathers up her cremel-w’orked
robe. Clarence is attention to the last;
gives her hbr fan, and, with a humble
look, holds out the flower he has rav
ished from the epergne.
“Won’t you take this?” he says.
Jeanne takes it with a smile,
Clarence goes back to the table
drains a goodly glass of the yellow seal,
with a heart fluttering like—like a man
in love.
While dinner has been in progress, the
servants have thrown wide the doors of
the conservatory adjoining the great
drawing-room, and the mimic forest of
ferns and flowers is lit up with daint
ily shaped grotesque lanterns.
Jeanne, Jeanne like, makes straight
for this, and seats herself in a low chair
beside a marble faun, that leers down
at her as he throws a spray of water
from his scooped hands.
This meting with Lady Lucelle and
Lord Lane is so unexpected that she
scarcely yet realizes it. Lady Lucelle’s
prophecy had come true; they had met
again, and with every appearance of good
will.
With an inward mortification, Jeanne
reflected upon the consummate pres
ence of mind with which the fashionable
beauty had set aside the fact of their
having seen each other previously, orthe
exquisite well bred air of composed plea
sure with which she had smiled; and,
as Jeanne reflected, she sighed.
Three months ago she expressed a
wish to enter the great world. How could
she have guessed that is was so false
and treacherous? Scarcely have these
thoughts flitted through her mind than
a soft voice says in her ear:
“Well, Lady iJeanne,” and looking up,
Jeanne sees the blue eyes bent on
her with smiling audacity, Jeanne looks
up with a sudden flash of color, but
there is nothing more than the usually
delicate tint on Lady Lucelle’s fair
skin, not a trace of confusion or em
barrassment. Rather one would say an
air of delicate enjoyment, as if the situ
ation amused her.
She even laughs softly as she watches
Jeanne’s expressionable face.
“Lady Ferndale,” drawing a chair close
to Jeanne’s, and leaning forward with
the most graceful ease—just as she did,
Jeanne remembers, on that afternoon in
the little drawing room at the Gate
House, “I wouldn’t, give a penny for
your thoughts, for I know them already.’
Jeanne raises her eyebrows but does
not speak.
“Yes,” says Lady Lucelle, fanning her
self. slowly, and smiling into Jeanne’s
steadfast eyes, “you’ve been thinking
ever since we were -introduced,” and she
laughs softly—“what a bold, wicked crea
ture I am.”
“Wicked?” says Jeanne, as if she.
wouldn’t deny the bold.
Lady Lucelle looks at her with more
softness in her sharp eyes than her ad
mirers would deem her capable of. “Oh,”
she thinks, “then he hasn’t told her about
the letter?”
“Dreadfully bold and awfully deceit
ful; now, confess.’”
Jeanne smiled rather coldly.
“Confess, you meant to cut me when
ever you saw me—that you would have
done it to-day if you could. My dear,
I saw it in your fa.ee when you heard
my voice. Jeanne—may I call you Jeanne
—don’t say no, or look cold. We two
can’t possibly quarrel. we’re too great
a contrast. Fair women and dark never
do quarrel. Let us be friends.”
Jeanne smiles.
”Do you think my friendship so desir
able, then. Lady Lucelle?”
“Desirable! I couldn’t get on without
it!” says Lady Lucele, with the most
frank and charming smile. “My dear i
Jeanne, we shall meet nine months out
of every twelve; we move in the same
set, know the same people. I detest—I |
cannot endure- situations in which the J
awkWard.gjid embarrassing predominate.
I never had a quarrel or a coolness in my
life.”
‘Never?” says Jeanne.
‘Never!” says Lady Lucelle. “I see
what you mean, my dear Jeanne, but you
are wrong. One may get weary of one’s
best friends, but quarrel with them! Life
is too short for anything so foolish.
Why. my dear, there’s scarcely a woman
and
and
and
i
enough to humor them. And some of
them have better cause than you. You’ve
got your plumcake, you know, where
some of them have lost theirs—through
me, or so they think. Come, what harm
have I done you?”
“I don’t know,” says Jeanne, and in
deed, she does not.
“There!” exclaimed Lady Lucelle. with
soft triumph. “I thought so! Why, if
you consider it, it is I who ought to
dislike you, but I don’t; honestly. I
would if I could, but I can’t. I don’t
think anyone could. Oh, I am not flat
tering. You are too clever to be won
by such poor chaff as that, especially
when it comes from a woman’s hand.
And, besides, you are too happy to re
member old scores. Lady Jeanne, hon
estly, I liked you that first time—which
we will never speak of any more—that
first time I saw you; I wa3 a little jeal
ous, perhaps, for you were most exas-
peratingly pretty in that white dress;
but I liked you, and I do want you to
like me. Let us swear a friendship, as
the man says in the play.”
Jeanne smiles. What can she sav—
what would anyone say in answer to the
appeal, made in the sweetest and most
liquid of tones, and with a frankness
which seems truth itself? Lady Lucelle
takes the smile as an assent.
“That’s all right,” she says, with ja
little fluttering sigh of satisfaction, “and
I am quite happy. Candidly, my dear,) I
couldn’t have afforded to quarrel with
so great a person as the Marchioness of
Ferndale! Why, a cut direct from you
would have socially ruined me! See now
how wholy I trust you! Is thefe -anyone
of them who would he so honest? They
all profess to iove you, but they don’t.
They all envy you, and most of them
hate you. There isn’t one of them.” and
she looked toward the room full of
women with a placid smile, “but would
have gone on their knees to get what
you got without the asking. My dear
Jeanne, it must be nice to be a marchion
ess, only to feel that every unmarried
—and most of the married—women one
meets would be glad to stab one in the
back if stabbing were the fashion.”
Jeanne listens with an uneasy smile.
From any other lips such plain truths
would sound coarse and startling, but
spoken in Lady Lucelle’s soft, lingering
tones, they do not strike home with less
poignancy.
‘Not one!” she continues. “Look over your fan at that tall girl in the blue j
satin. She is one of the Peerland girls—
there are five of them, and unmarried.
This is Augusta. Poor Augusta! She
tracked Lord Ferndale for two seasons,
from London to Paris, from Paris to
Scotland, up hill down dale. She must
love you! so must her mother, the old
lady in the turban, with the mustache.
Augusta is now stalking poor Nugent.
Gets up in the morning and holds his
gun, which she can’t bear the sight of,
and pats his horse, of which she is mor
ally afraid. You will see when he comes
in how she will draw up the blue satin
from that chair beside her and smile at
him. Poor Augusta!”
Jeanne cannot help smiling in spite of
herself.
“Poor Lord Nugent!” she says.
“Just so,” assents Lady Lucelle, with a
little shrug of the shoulders. “But he is
used -to it ,and can take care of himself
—some of them can’t, and fall easy vic
tims. Tea!” she breaks off, as a foot
man approaches. “Thanks. What a farce
it is! This is a remnant of the old, pat
riarchal days, when women were kept in
servitude. I wonder when the men will
learn horn much we hate the society of
each other, and let us share the port and
rare wines and best stories which they
reserve till we’ve left the dining-room!
My dear, there is nothing so deceitful as
a man Did you ever notice -how grave
and sedate they come in, just as if they
had been learning the shorter catechism,
instead of chuckling over doubtful bon-
mots and scandal. All the life goes out
of them as they enter the drawing-room,
where we sit like tame cats in a cage,
lapping our tea or lounging at the piano|
By the way, does Lord Ferndale sing
now ?”
The question is not an abrupt one—|
for Lady Lucelle never asked an abrupt
question in her life—but it is so unex-j
pec ted that Jeanne winces. Vane has
not sung since the wedding day.
“I think not,” she says, trying to speak
carelesssy.
“Really!” says Lady Lucelle, glancing?
through her half-closed eyelids at Je-an->
ne’s averted face. ‘That strikes me as?
a dreadful waste of fine ma-|
terial. I have often thought it!
was a great shame a marquis should?
have such a voice and such a talent for.
painting; it is rather unfair to
men who have neither title nor
thing else. I’m afraid he doesn’t
much, does he?”
I
lightly.
not
5 for
the last twelve months? We poor wo
men have only -oiir books and our wits,
K y^aN-£prd Ferndale', ahdl they stand us
m pdo¥ ‘Sfe^d* sometimes. What itf that'
galantine? Do you remember it? You
used to be an epuicure once. Do you re
member 'flying into a passion at .the I
hotel in jEngadinej because the cauli- 1
flowers weren”t cooked.” t
Vane smiles. (
“Can’t say T-do,” he says, .(though he j
does, and remembers many other things |
, thatoccurred in the Engadine besides in this room—excepting someof ^the very
• i ' the badly cooked vegetables); “my mem- old ones—that doesn’t dislike me, and
«y. ia ^bad,” . would quarrel with me, if I, were silly
other!
any-
paint!
Jeanne smiles. As a fact, Vane has]
done little else but paint; but she is;
spared a reply for the countess, who has
made several attempts to get to her,
reaches her at last, and Lady Lucelle is
induced to go to the piar.o.
“Oh, yes, I’ll sing if you want me,”’
she says; “that is, until Lord Ferndale j
comes into the room. He once told me
that 1 sang without any heart, and I
avowed never to open my lips in his
hearing again.”
A small circle encloses Jeanne; plans,
are being made for the morrow. There
is some talk of meeting the shooting a
party at luncheon; would Lady Fern- rj
dale like that ,and how would Lady
Ferndale like to go? Would she like to f'
go in the saddle, or drive. 'j
One and all consult her choice on ev
ery point, each hanging 6n her decision {
as if she were an empress. Jeanne smil- ||
ingly refers it to the majority—anything
will please her and the matter is still
under discussion when the gentlemen,
looking as Lady Lucelle prognosticated,
very grave and sedate, come clustering
in.
Charlie and Clarence made straight for
the little group, others spread about in
search of comfortable seats; Vane, af
ter glancing in the direction of the con
servatory, goes across to an old friend,
and takes his, cup of tea standing by his
chair.
“Luncheon is the word,” says Charlie.
“Right, Go as you like. Just so. I’ll ask
Vane to run through the stables and find
a horse for you. if he can’t we can send
for your own.”
Clarence is standing near.
“Mustapha used to carry a lady, Chal-
lie,” he says, with suppressed eagerness,
“I’ll answer for her quietness. Will you
try her, Lady Ferndale? My sister used
to ride her. You will be quite safe at
anything.
Jeanne looks up.
‘I shall deprive you,” she says.
“He can ride anything,” says Charlie.
“Take him at his word, Lady Jeanne.”
And so it is arranged, by tacit con
sent that Jeanne is to ride Clarence’s
owr horse.
Meanwhile Lady Lucelle finishes her
K •
song, notwithstanding Vane’s presence.
If it be true that she sings without
heart, she sings with plenty of art. Like
everything else she does, she plays and
sings artistically, and with that charm
which grace along can yield.
• Vane looks up from his cup to give
the general murmur ef thanks and meets
her eyes fixed on hiz*.
“Do you remember that song,
says.
Vane tries to look as if he did not.
“Will you come and sing for us?”
He smiles and shakes his head.
“You refuse?” says Lady Lucelle. “I
must go and ask Lady Ferndale to in
tercede, then,” and she looks around.
But Jeanne is not in the same place.
-At the end of the conservatory, leading
to the terrace, there is the glimmer of
an embroidered dress, and a tall figure
remarkably like Clarence’s.
“Rather than you should think that
trouble necessary,” says Vane, and he
comes to the piano as he speaks, but
reluctantly.
“What will you sing,” asks Lady Lu
celle, with downcast eyes, and a thrill
of triumph in her heart. He has not sung
for three months and he is singing for
her.
“Anything there is,” says Vane, not
conceitedly, but indifferently.
She turns over the music, and comes
upon the Neapolitan song which Jeanne
had heard at the Gate House some
months ago.
“Shall I play for you? I remember ev
ery note,” she adds, in a low voice, and
her fingers touch the keys pensively for
a moment.
A murmur runs around the room. The
fame of Vane’s voice is widespread. Men
stick their hands in their pockets, and
throw back their heads as is their wont
when they want to listen; women cease
chattering, and glide nearer the piano.
There is a profound silence, broken only
by the distant murmur of the two per
sons at the end of the conservatory, who
were not listening—Jeanne and Clarence.
(To be continued.)
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about them—tells every other mother
how
how
over baby’s health to use these Tab
lets. I'
son, Ont., says:
constipation and teething troubles and
I gave him Baby’s Own Tablets, which
gave speedy relief. I consider the tab
lets an excellent medicine for children.”
These tablets cure constipation, teething
troubles, diarrhoea, simple fevers, de
stroy worms, break up colds and pro
mote natural, healthy sleep. And you
have a guarantee that there is not a
particle of opiate or poisonous soothing
stuff in them. Sold by all medicine deal
ers or sent by mail at 25 cents a box
by writing The Dr. Williams’ Medicine
Co., Brockville, Ont. Send for our little
book on the care of infants and young
children—free to all mothers.
---------------- --------------------------
CURRENT GUARDS THE GOLD.
safe and how effective they are,
much it relieves the anxiety
Mrs. 8. W. Crawford, Thomp-
. : “My oaby was ill with
’ Electric Appliances on Safes in New
Federal Building.
Chicago’s new Federal Building is re
markable for the attention paid to the
minutest details in its construction. Its
heating and ventilating system is one
of the most complete in the country and
electric equipment of the sub-treasury
vaults is particularly interesting.
There are three of these vaults, one
above the other, and reaching from the
basement to the second floor. One of
these is for gold, one for silver and one
for surplus, which cannot be stored in
the other two. Each is fitted with every
safety appliance known to the art. On
each is a burglar alarm, and the doors
are fitted with four time locks, besides
a combination lock. Within the main
door, says the Western Electrician, is a
grating having two loeks, the keys of
which are carried by two separate em
ployees, one man never being allowed to
enter the vaults alone. Outside of the
mam door of each vault is a solid con
crete and steel platform which is raised
and lowered by an electric motor. The
door of any vault cannot be opened or
closed when this platform is in its nor
mal position. To open the door the
platform must first be lowered a dis
tance of four feet, when the door may
be swung back. The platform is then
raised again, fitting so nicely against
the sill and around the bottom of the
door that its presence is scarcely notice
able. To close the vault door the plat
form must again be lowered. The motor
’controller which accomplishes this is
located a short distance from the vault
door, but it is such an innocent looking
affair that its purpose would not be
(guessed by one not familiar with the
arrangement, the motor and gearing be-
png concealed from view.
The walls of the vaults are of solid
(concrete, two to four feet in thickness,
’intersected in every direction by geams
of steel.
Current Comment
While Russia is down waiting to be de
clared out, Japan is hardly winded, and
shows an astonishing power of endurance
and reserve force for a country of such
area and population. This wonderful re
sourcefulness and elasticity is largely a
growth of recent years, and testifies to
the progress made by the little island
people in the ways of modern civilization.
A statistician has devoted some care to
a comparison between the Japan of to
day and the United States at the close
of the Civil War, and offers these figures
for consideration:
United States Japan,
about 1860. 1904.
Population ... 20,000,000 46,000,000
Debt after war$2,680,647,869 $750,000,000
Imports......... 353,616.119 160,000,000
Exports .... 333,576.057 145,000,000
Bank capital . *421,880,095 263,000,000
Bank deposits. *406,507,066 356,000,000
Public revenue 56,064,608 115,000,000
*Not including savings banks.
Commenting on this statement the
New York Journal of Commerce says:
“The United States in 1865 not only had
a debt nearly four times that of Japan
at the present, time, but had only half
the population to sustain it. The net
burden of the individual Japanese to
day, therefore, on account of the public
debt is only about one-eighth the burden
which fell upon the citizen of the North
at the close of the war. Ability to carry
this burden must be gauged, so far as
public statistics afford a guide, by the
volume of foreign trade and banking op
erations. These show that while the
foreign trade of Japan is at. present only
about half what that of the United
States was in 1860, her banking capital
and bank deposits do not fall far be
hind.” Japan’s wise course in protecting
her gold reserve by floating foreign loans
and creating funds in London and New
York is in striking contrast, with that
of the United States in suspending specie
payments, paper money going down to 40
cents on the dollar almost at one rush.
The authority already quoted says:
Not only in regard to maintaining gold
payments, but in prompt resort to taxa
tion, Japanese statesmen have shown
themselves more enlightened than those
of America forty-five years ago. The fig
ures presented above, showing an annual
public revenue in Japan equal to twice
that of the United States in 1860, shows
how resolutely and fearlessly the policy
has been pursued of raising war funds by
taxation instead of relying exclusively
upon loans. Such a policy is worth many
times the funds which it actually brings
to the Treasury, because of the proof it
affords of the energy and good faith of
the Government. * * * The returns
of commerce, banking operations and
clearings in Japan indicate that industry
has been very little deranged by the war,
and that the country is more than able
for many months to come to maintain in
the field of finance the wonderful pres
tige which she has won upon the field of
battle and upon the sea.
Japan has a large reserve for her loans
■ready for use, if necessary, to prolong
the war. She has a patriotic and united
people ready to pay and to fight for
their country. And a nation that acts
as one man is a nation not easily beaten.
Japan is not winded yet.
i
Mr. Bryce, in opening the Manor Park
Free Library, which is part of Mr. Car
negie’s gift to East Ham, England, said: :
There was no better way of providing
for pleasure in this life than by cultivat
ing the taste and habit of reading books.
The.......................................................taste and habit of reading books
was one of the purest pleasures—it was
one of the most enduring pleasures, it
was a pleasure which lasted through
life, a pleasure which none of the vicis
situdes of life could destroy and a plea*- <'
ure which afforded a solace and a refuge
among those vexations and regrets
which life brought to them all.
The young man who spends his win
ter evenings kicking his heels at street
corners or playing pool or in some other
useless way, would find it much to his
advantage were he to cultivate a taste
for such pleasures as are to be derived
from reading books. A man can have
no better companion than a good book.
i That Sir William Wallace still lives
in the hearts of the Scottish people is
attested by the fact that fully 1,500 peo
ple asembled at Robroyston, near Glas
gow, on Saturday, the 5th instant, to
commemorate his betrayal, which occur
red exactly six centuries ago. The gath- 1
ering was held under the auspices of the
Scottish Patriotic Association, and stir
ring speeches were delivered. Resolutions
were adopted expressing satisfaction at
the action taken by the Convention of
Royal Burghs in pressing upon the atten
tion of the educational authorities the
necessity of having Scottish history
taught adequately in the schools, and de
ploring the apathy of most Scottish
members of Parliament in regard to the
national rights and honor of Scotland.
Wireless telegraphy has already be
come a commercial enterprise. Accord
ing to a Parliamentary report reprinted^
by the Telegraph Age, 111 messages were
received by the British Post Office in
January, February and March of this
year for transmission by wireless tele
graphy to ships at sea. In the same
months the post office received from
ships 1,655 messages. The total receipts
from this branch of the empire’s tele
graph business were £74.
Labouchere says we eat too much;
fasting, he believes to be the remedy for
most human ills. But we are not all
Tanners or Sacchos, and starvation and
heavy manual labor do not agree well.
Good crops in the Northwest and good
crops in Ontario. The farmer is in i
luck.
the oldest —South African
I
4
A Great African Republic Coming?.
Already the colored man is a formid
able force in the game of party politics’
in one—and
colony. The native vote in this colony*!
has become so large, and the natives'
are pressing their numeral advantage so
strongly, that the whites have already
raised the question of a suffrage limi
tation to save themselves frqm political
annihilation. But it is clear enough that
this expedient will not save them. The
population of Cape Colony, including the
territories is, in round numbers, 1,200,-
000, and the white population 377,000.
Day by day the power of the native
grows. The gate of the political arena
stands wide open to him, and he is nob
slow to enter. The negroes everywhere
are a remarkably fecund race, and they,
are increasing relatively, much faster i
than the whites. Africa is first of all’
the black man’s country, and all that
climatic conditions and the congenial
environment of a native habitat can ■
do to help him in his struggle upward!
are there present.
To all other influences now tending to
the development of the negro to a high-i
er social and political rank must be add- ’
ed the force of education. For in South .
Africa, as in this country, the negroes
“take” to education with remarkable
readiness and success. According to the
Cape government educational report
published three months ago, the
actual number of children receiving edu
cation in the public schools of the col
ony at the end of last year was 91,313
colored and 60,849 white. The natives are
awakening from the slumber of cen
turies and there is no more remarkable
feature of this awakening than their al- ,
most insatiable thirst for knowledge.
Cape Colony and the territories are lit
erally covered with native schools, the
territories alone having several hundreds.
These schools are manned very largely
by native teachers who have passed one
or other of the Cape University qus4ify-
ing examinations, and who display no
lack of intelligence in their work.
All this means, in brief, and in plaia
language, that South Africa is surely
destined at not distant day to come un
der native rule, to be governed by ne
groes for negroes. Attempts at disen
franchisement and limitations of the suf
frage will only hasten the day of negro
supremacy.-----Norman Notwood, in Les
lie’s, Weekly.
According to computations made by
Mr. Arthur Harris in an inquiry into
national finances the annual expendi
ture of the principal powers is, in round
numbers, as follows:
Russia....................
United Kingdom ..
France........... .. .
United —..
German Empire
Austria-Hungary
Italy................
The public debts of the principal na
tions are given as follows:
France .............
Russia.............
Great Britain ..
Austria-Hungary
Italy..................
Spain...................
Argentina .. ..
Portugal............
Turkey ............
German Empire
The proportion which the public debt
bears to the estimated national capital,
a knowledge of which is necessary to an
understanding of what the figures indi
cate, is said to be:
Spain and Portugal ..
Russia.......................
Austria-Hungary ..
France '..........
Holland and Belgium
German Empire .. .
United States...........
United Kingdom ....
Norway and Sweden
States ..
£291,000,000
179,750,000
142,609,000
129,500,000
115,132,000
111,203,000
69,861,000
A
tfiat
fuse
is pl
t
Signs of Evil Omen.
(New York Express.)
If a dish towel falls from the hand to
the floor you are sure to have company at
dinner that night. This applies to the
cook, the mistress of the house and the
hubby who helps his wife wash the
dishes. When you wihd the cuckoo clock
be sure to pull the chain to the right
first. Don’t wind your watch at bed
time, as 999 men in 1.000 have a habit
of doing; wind it when you rise in the
morning and start out fresh with it.
When keys rust in your pocket it is a
sign of low vitality, or salt atmos
phere or perspiration. Don’t turn up
your toes; it is a sign you are dead.
The Ad. and the Collector.
j Some time ago a man who contem
plates writing a comprehensive History
of Advertisements began to collect speci
mens from all parts of the world. He
originally intended to make a complete
Collection, but he has abandoned, the idea
for the simple reason that, unlike pos
tage stamps, the number of advertise
ments is infinite and their variety past
classification. He expresses surprise at
the magnitude and cosmopolitan charac
ter of advertising. But why should he
be surprised? It is a big world; human
desires are immeasurable, and the ad
vertisement is the most useful medium
for making known and therefore satisfy
ing these desires.
£1,172,360,000
656,574,000
638,919,000
590,944,000
510,501,000
387,000,000
183,575,000
177,192,000
170,000,090
143,799,000
29 per cent.
27 per cent.
17 per cent.
12.8 p. cent.
6 per cent.
6 per cent.
6 per cent,
p. cent.
2 per cent.
The great railway companies are
among the greatest factors that tend to
temperance on this continent. At a ban
quet in Buffalo the other evening Mr. C.
J. Phillips, Superintendent of the Buffalo
division of the Lackawanna, said the
time was when a railroad company paid
little attention to the lives of its employ
ees, especially when (they were off duty.
“But time and experience,” he said, “has
demonstrated the necessity of corpora
tions talcing cognizance of employees, not
only when they are on duty, but off duty
as well. The habits of a man when he
is off duty determine largely his effi
ciency when he is on duty. The engineer,
the flagman, the telegraph operator, the
dispatcher, who takes his regular rest,
never drinks or eats to excess, comes on
duty with a clear brain, seldom ever
makes a mistake in the discharge of his
duty.” The man who is irregular er un-
Recklessness on Railroads.
(Indianapolis News.)
train conics plungi-jg along and find*
the draw is open; “the air brake.? re-
to work,” and a slaughter follows. It
x ain that culpability here is deep. It Is
simply criminal recklessness that will per- '
mit a railroad to be so run that it is pos
sible under any circumstances for a train
to approach a drawbridge without coming
first to a full stop—and this not merely in
the volition of the engineman In the Strict
ness of company orders, but as a matter of
mechanical impossibility. It is criminalj
recklessness for any road to have atraek
running over a drawbridge that dees not
have with it an automatic device that.'wou
prevent the train from running farther un
it first had stopped in full view