HomeMy WebLinkAboutLucknow Sentinel, 1905-09-21, Page 7"*'W
iff 1 r*Yn
Do Not Confound
Ceylon Tea with those of any other brand, as
imitations abound.
Sold only in Sealed Lead Packets. 40, 50, 60c per lb. By all Grocers. Highest
Award St. Louis, 1904. Black, Mixed or Green Tea.
“What—the hook?” she asks, inno
cently.
“No, your arm,” explains Hal.
he adds, “that’t out of
they never do.”
“That’s all right,” she
I’ll go for my book; I
grass.”
Hal runs back, and,
search, finds the volume; it is Tenny
son’s poems in Italian.
“Here it is,” he says, handing it to
her; “is there anything else?”
“No, thank you,” she says, “and now
I will go and not disturb your fishing
any longer.”
“I shan’t fish any more,” says Hal,
decidedly. “I’ve got quite enough.”
“Yes,” she says; “and the sun is sink
ing, too. Are you going to Forbach?”
“Yes,” says Hal, longing to ask where
she is going, but not daring to. “Yes,
I’m staying at Forbach.”
“Ah, yes, you are traveling—you are
a tourist?” she says, curiously.
“For goodness sake don’t call
that!” says Hal, laughing.
“But,”
the question—
says, “and now
left it on the
after a little
tionality, is united in its vigorous at
tacks on the viands.
Bel has also procured a bottle of Bass
-—which, by the way, goes down on the
bill as “Pa Laie, two shillings and six pence”! A waiter brings him some j
soup, exchanges it for some apparently i
raw salmon soused in vinegar, which Hal
imediatelv and emphatically declines,and |
' is about to bring him the next dish,"when
he turns aside to usher in a new and. a
| late arrival. He is a short, thin individ
ual, whose face is so covered with a net
work of wrinkles that he may be ninety,
but whose upright bearing and light step
would lead one as readily to believe that
he was fifty. His hair, which was iron
gray, is cut short to his head, his mus
tache is thick, and white as snow, and
! his breast is covered by orders and de-
; corations;
j Every one looks up and stares, as ev-
! erybody invariably does at a new arriv-
j al, and the waiter, with much fussy em-
! pressement, makes room to place a chair
1 next to Bell, and requests to know, in
* an audible voice if “his Excellency, Count
Mikoff, will partake of any soup ?”
; His excellency, with a comprehensive
, bow to the company, seats himself, wipes
j his moustache with a napkin, displaying
I a hand almost white, and then falls to at
1 he soup.
“If his excel enev is a Russian he ought
to enjoy that soup,” whispers Hal; “for
there’s plenty of grease in it.”
Bell looks a timid prayer for silence,
and the dinner proceeds.
“Bell’s right. Princesses and that kind
of thing, grow like blackberries in this
country,” thinks Hal. “A princess and
i a count in one day is not bad.”
(Ta oe continued.)
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___________________________________
Madame Tussaud’s. Were you ever in
the same room with one—ever speak to
one?”
“No, Hal,” says Bell, blandly. “I don’t
remember that I have.”
“Hem!” comments Hal. “Supposing 1
one meets a princess—and—and gets into
, confab with her, is it the right sort of
thing to call her ‘your highness’? ”
“Certainly—I should say so,” says Bell,
but with undisguised uncertainty. “I’m
I not quite sure; oh, yes, but not too fre
quently. What makes you ask, Hal?”
“Merely the thirst which consumes me
for every kind of information,” says Hal,
grimly.
Bell smiles and goes back to his letter,
but Hal has not finished yet.
, “I say, Bell,” he says, “ain’t it a rather
rum thing for a princess to be trotting
abbut alone? I fancied that they were
generally attended by a companion—a
what do you call it, sort of attache?”
“Not always,” says Bell. “Oh, no, espe
cially on the continent. The higher or
ders of nobility are more numerous with
foreigners than with us,”
“That means that princes and duke3
grow on every bush, like blackberries, in
Germany,” says Hal. “Well, a princess
is a princess anywhere, isn’t she, Bell?”
“Certainly, my dear Hal,” assents Bell,
sedately, “but t fail to gather the rele
vancy of your questions.”
“Merely a wild kind of cackle on my
part,” says Hal. “Perhaps I’m going in
for etiquette, now I’m going to visit at a
real castle, and live with a real live mar
quis. Have you been up to the castle
J yet?”
Bell blushes.
“Yes. I took an opportunity of walk
ing UP yesterday afternoon. It is a won
derful place, Hal. truly grand and won
derful, and, of course, I saw it at a dis
advantage, as the whole place was in a
I state of confusion with Vane’s—I mean
the marquis’—-expected arrival. By the
| way, a very amiable and good-natured
1 gentleman, a major domo, who seemed to
i have the general direction of the whole,
! on being informed by me that you were
’ a brother of the marchioness, declared
j his intention of coming down to the hotel
! and inquiring if he could be of any ser-
i vice.”
| “Did he, by Jove?” says Hal. “Then
j I’ll take care to give instructions that
1 I’m out whenever a big man with a bald
head and shaggy eyebrows puts in an ap-
[ pearance.”
5 “Mv dear Hal-----’’
/ “Oh, thank you, Bell. I don’t want to
be killed by another interview with a
German who doesn’t understand my lan
guage, and thinks I understand his. No,
you shall receive the major domo.
Haven’t I avoided the castle for that
very reason, although I’m dying to see
what sort of a place it is? No castle
that was ever built is good enough for
me, until there are some people in it who
can speak my native tongue. Making
great preparations, are they. Bell? It
doesn’t seem real, does it? Fancy Jeanne
having half a dozen castles to choose
from! George!, most people are content
with one. I begin to believe that when
that long-nosed woman at Baden—I for
get her name—said to me: ‘Your sister’s
a lucky, very lucky, woman, Mr. Baar-
trarm,” she about spoke the truth.” -
Bell sighed, and nibbled the tip of the
penholder.
“When did you hear last, Hal, from
Jea—from the marchioness?”
“Oh, when?” replies Hal, half out of
the window again. “Why, a week or two
ago. wasn’t it?”
“She was quite well, I think you said—
ond—happy?” inquires Bell, softly, and
blushing timidly,
“Quite well, and happy, I suppose,”
i says Iial, absently; "why shouldn’t she
be? She never was one of your melan
choly mopes, at the worst of times, and
she’s got no reason to be now, by
George!”
“No—no,” says Bell, ' thoughtfully;
“Jeanne, she’s happy! s you say, how
could she be otherwise?” And, with a
sigh: “So good, so unselfish, so thought
ful of others—how could she be other
wise, eh, Hal?”
“Just so—you’re right, Bell!” he says,
coming into tlie room, and beginning to
stride up and down, as is his wont when
I excited and energetic, which he is once
I in every quarter of the hour. “Gad!
; there aren’t a ‘gooder’ girl going than
Jeanne. Thoughtful! why, Bell,' if we
would have allowed it, she would have
lavished every blessed penny of her in
come, enormous as it is, is/ on us!
. Look at the money she gives me
— more than I want, more than
J I’d take, only that I mean to
use it properly, and do something in
the future to make her feel it hasn’e
been thrown away. Bell !” he goes on,
stopping short, with his eyes flashing,
“there isn’t another girl like Jeanne in
the whole world ! and—and 1 wish this
fortnight were here,, and she was with
us now.”
Bell looked up with a moist look in his
; WAYS OF MEW<»
j YORK BURGLARS.
baffled the early navigators still brood
over the surface of the deep; the sunken
reefs, the shifting sand bar, the varia
ble current and many another natural
cause of marine disasters still beset the
path of the navigator. Therefore, it is
to the triumphs of invention and the
perfecting of human control and man
agement that we must look for an ex
planation of the all but absolute security
of steamship travel to-day. The secret
of this security is to be found both
in the structure of the ship itself and
in the marvelously ingenious devices
which science and invention have placed
at the service of the navigator to guide
him in the more perilous phases of his
duty. Without enumerating those ele
ments of water-tight subdivision, vast
size and better control in the ship it
self, or the wonderfully sensitive and
refined apparatus at the command, of
the modern navigator, we need but re
fer to two of the very latest safeguards,
in the form of wireless telegraphy and
submarine signaling, to show that the
present immunity from accidents is
traceable to clearly recognized human
causes^
The last-named invention is a close
rival to the wireless telegraph in the
great increase that it has made in the
safety of travel on the sea. Testimony
to its efficiency was recently given by
an officer of the Kaiser Wilhelm der
Grosse, upon which the new equipment
is carried. We have so frequently de
scribed the device in the columns of the
Scientific American that it is sufficient
to say that at the lighthouse or light
ship there is a bell upon which signals
are sounded and that upon the ship is
carried a receiving device in the form
of an iron tank attached to the inside
of the plating below the water line,
from which wires are to be led to tele
phones in the chartroom or on the
bridge. One receiver is placed on each
side of the ship, with separate wires
from each, and by the use of the tele
phones the officer is able to hear a bell
that is being struck at a point many
miles distant from the ship and deter
mine its direction.
The officer of the Kaiser Wilhelm der
Grosse states that on the last trip over,
when the ship was four miles distant
from the mouth of the River Weser, he
plainly made out the signals conveyed
from the lightship there. Furthermore,
as the vessel neared Nantucket, and
when she was about four miles distant
from the lightship, he heard through
the telephone the signal “66.” This con
sists of six strokes of the bell, a pause,
and then six more strokes of the bell,
which is the Nantucket lightship code
signal. At about the same distance from,
the Fire Island light and from the San
dy Hook lightship the respective signals
were distinctly audible. The value of
this device in preventing collisions be
tween approaching ships is evident, for
it has this advantage over the foghorn,
that the direction of the approaching
vessel, whether from port or starboard,
is determined at once by the fact that
the sounds are audible to the port or
starboard telephone.—Scientific Ameri
can.
----- —=====
IS WAR NECESSARY ?
French Writer Says Peace is a School
of Cowardice.
We all like frankness and admire a
man who has courage to match his con
victions.
Such a man is Ferdinand Brunetierre,
the French editor, who in the Revue
Des Deux Mondes defends war.
His views are digested in the Chicago
Record-Herald as follows:
“Brunetiere, in the first place favors
wax for the virtues of devotion and
courage it fosters. To preach peace, he
says, is to ignore the invigorating and
ennobling effects of warfare. Nations,
like individuals, must keep strong,
brave and resolute, and peace is a school
of cowardice when carried to an ex
treme. No doubt unimportant disputse
ought to be arbitrated, for, after all,
war means slaughter and misery and
waste but it is well for nations to
fight occasionally for honor and vital
issues generally.”
Of course such a position from a man
so eminent has aroused a storm of
protest, and his critics point out that
to carry the argument to its limit, Mr.
Brunetiere should also include dueling
as a defense of private honor and free
fights as a defence of private rights.
Perhaps the French editor might reply
that to let the bars down to that ex
tent wax furnishes just enough scope
for the exercise of man’s ferocious ten
dencies to keep his virtue in running
The vitaldefect with the view he ex
presses is in the narrow and brutal
sense in which it appears he uses the
word courage.
Have women, who never go to war
no courage ?
Every one knows they have courage
equal to men withi the limits of their
peculiar spheres of duty. It is evidenc
ed not alone in those acts connected
with the care of children which have
caused so many women to face fire,
shipwreck, tornadoes and wild beasts,
but in the care and defence of the weak
and helpless generally.
Who can number the host of women
who have laid down their lives in the
care of the sick?
Has man developed no courage ex
cept what war brought out? The
thought is absurd. Not a day passes
that some men, a fireman, a police of
ficer, a coast guard, a sailor, or some
voluntary hero does not give up his life
in trying to save others.
That training has been man’s from
time immemorial, and the training men
have had from occasional wars is insig-
nificent compared with the everyday
training of everyday men.
To make men warlike there is no
doubt war is necessary, and that it
tends to make them overbearing and
truculent is highly probable.
But that it cultivates the careful and
conservative kinds of courage, better
than they are cultivated in peace there
is no ground to believe.
Neither is there reason for saying
that peace makes cowards except as
it makes men who abhor bloodshed and
repudiate wholly the barbarous notion
that differences of opinion as to men’s
rights may be arbitrated by wholesale
slaughter,—Detroit Times.
—---------—<J> *
Wigg—When your friend the priae
fighter retired from the ring, why did ha
choose the coal business? Wagg—Well,
you know lie always trained as a
weight. ;
▼ V ;
(
When folks are far away
The burglars make hay.
This ominous bit of parody is espec
ially appropriate for New Yorkers at
this time of the year when so many citi
zens have locked up their houses or
apartments to spend a while in the
country. It is in the vacation months
that the burglar seeks the city. The
country then has become too dangerous
The nights are so short that he can
hardly get to work on a job in the hours
when folks sleeps soundest before the
light begins to break. In warm weather
too, people leave their windows open;
and should he have to use a bit of dy
namite in overcoming a particularly
stubborn lock, the explosion, breaking
the deep stillness of the country, would
be sure of arousing the neighborhood
for miles around. In the city, however,
the thief can Work more safely. He
can hide from the early approach of
day in the deep shadows of tall walls,
and he can drown the click of his “jack”
or the report of his safe-cracking blast
in the roar of passing trains or cars.
In certain parts of the city just now
the unusual activity of thieves has caus
ed a veritable panic. In East New York,
for example, there have been so many
burglars and sneak thieves abroad that
men and women sit up nights with all
manner of firearms handy to repel at
tacks. Five thefts in the region bound
ed by Bradford and Fulton streets, Ar
lington and Miller avenues, were re
ported recently in a single night. In
the eastern section of Harlem 30 burg
laries have occurred in the last 10 days.
In spite of strongest safes, more cun
ning electric alarm systems and more
complete methods of identifying crimin
als, the burglar seems to be feared
nowadays much more than he used to
be. An evidence of this is the tremen
dous growth of the burglar insurance
business in this country in recent times.
A little more than 10 years ago practi
cally all effort to insure people against
theft proved futile. Companies were
organized for this purpose, but after
many vicissitudes they ended in failure.
Sinlce that nearly a dozen corpora
tions have come into existence, and so
large is the business they do that in
the last year they paid over $384,147 in
burglary losses. In the same time they
collected $1,386,610 in premiums.
This increasing dread of the burglar
is due to the fact that he never was
more formidable or more active than
at the present time. In these days of
greater wealth those temptations which
are so alluring to the thief have been
multiplied. Consequently there are more
diamond robberies, and crimes of a sim
ilar character now than in the past. The
discovery of more effective tools and
more powerful explosives has also aid
ed the robber, and although be does not
attempt as often as he did to blow
up the big city banks, because of their
alarm systems and special patrols, his
ravages in country districts have grown
to an alarming extent. At the present
time four out of five bank burglaries
are committed in towns of less than
1,000 inhabitants. In the last eight years
776 banks situated in such communities
were attacked, with a loss ,of $1,250,-
000. Safes once regarded as burglar
proof have been shown to be little
stronger than soap boxes in the hands
of expert thieves and cosequently many
companies will not insure country banks
at all.
Impressed with facts like these the
government officials at Washington de
cided to instal an electric burglar al
arm system in the treasury department
in addition to the old-time “strong
vaults.” As Mr. Taylor, the assistant
secretary of the treasury, said at the
time:
“We have come to the conclusion that
the strongest vault built can be opened
or cut by an expert safecracker. With
the improved safecracker appliances
abroad they can cut through five inches
of chrome steel as easily as you or I
go through a piece of chees with a case
knife.”
The modern burglar is also more wan
tonly destructive than his predecessors.
His us of “dope,” or itroglycerine often
causes a greater damage to a building
than the loss made by the theft itself.
Even when he fails of getting loot he
leaves a scene of wreckage behind. Of
the $1,250,000 in losses occurred by
baks, of which mention has already
been made, more than $300,000 repre
sented destruction of property. In rob
beries of dwelling houses and apart
ment houses the damage averages about
one-temth of the total loss.
It may be seen, therefore, that if
thieves are able to break into armor-
clad depositories -with such ease, they
are far more ccitoin of success in rob
bing private apartments. There are var
ious sorts of criminals engaged in this
kind of robbery. In winter months the
sneak thief and house* burglar are those
chiefly employed in this vocation, and
in summer their ranks are swollen by
1 the “hobo” burglars, who return from
looting country banks and post-offices.
—New York Tribune.
-------------------- ---------------------------------
SAFETY OF OCEAN TRAVEL.
With Modem Devices Steamships Are
Safer Than Railway Travel.
In the presence of the fearful loss of
life in accidents on oui' railroads it is
with relief that we contemplate the ever-
increasing safety of travel by sea. Year
after year passes by without any of
the important passenger steamers that
cross the Atlantic Ocean, or other oceans
on which passenger travel is heavy,
meeting with an accident that causes
risk of life or limb to the passengers.
This fact is the more remarkable when
we remember that ocean travel has in
creased by leaps and bounds during the
past decade; that not only are there
more steamers following the lanes of
travel, but that they are running at
much higher speed. The mail steamers
come and go with a regularity ap
proaching that of the best railroad
schedule, and it takes the very fiercest
of Atlantic midwinter gales to interfere
seriously with this punctuality. In seek
ing for the causes of this remarkable
immunity from accidents, we have to
look not at the natural, but at the hu
man elements of the situation.
Seas are as broad and tempestuous as
ever; fogs as impenetrable as those that
know. Of course I won’t call. Good
evening,” and he is about to turn away,
when he feels a soft, warm hand on his
arm.
“What is the matter? Have I offend
ed you, sir?”
“Offended !” echoes Hal, taken aback.
“No, how should you ?”
“Then why wil you not call ?” she asks
innocently.
“Because,” says Hal, then he stops
short; “because 1 didn’t know that you
were a princess. Your people, you see—
I mean your people wouldn’t thank me
for being so free-and-easy. I’m—well—I
expect they wouldn’t consider me good
enough. I’m not a prince.”
“No ?” she says, with a little puzzled
smile. Will you tell me your name ?”
“My name is Bertram,” says Hal,
“Harry Bertram. I’m called Hal.”
“Hal,” she repeats, and the name for
the first time sounds in the boy’s ears
like a note of music. “Hal Bertram. It
is a pretty name. And why will you
not call, Mr. Bertram ?”
“Oh !” says Hal, “don’t call me Mr.
Bertram.”
“No ? Hal Bertram, then,’ she says,
evidently anxious to please him, “why
will you not call ?”
“Well,” he says, “well, yes, then, I
will call, your highness !” /
She smiles and holds out her hand.
“Good-by, Hal Bertram,” she says, and
Hal, uncovering, takes her hand, and
shakes it, boy fashion. The next moment
she has flitted up the winding path and
is out of sight.
Hal looked up the winding path, and
then at the stream, and lastly toward the
vilage, with a puzzled and slightly dazed
look on his handsome, boyish face. Then
he lights his pipe, puts up his rod, and
saunters though the valley, up the clean
little street, which is nearly deserted,
save by the little cart drawn by its two
dogs; by the stableman at Der Krone
Hotel, who apparently do all their work
while leaning against the posts outside
the gate, and by the little hump-backed
fruit-seller, who sits under the huge yel
low umbrella, looking like a china image
in her green dress and snowy white cap.
Hal, pulling at his pipe, goes up the
hot, white street, nods to the stable-
keepers as they bestow an elaborate bow
upon him, stops to stare at and pat the
two panting dogs in the milkcart, buys
three ripe figs off the old woman, and
then clatters through the paved hall of
the Krone, and, clattering up the broad
stairs, saunters into one of the old rooms
on the first floor of that most respect
able hotel.
Sitting by a table at the open window
is the Reverend Peter Bell, writing a let
ter with one hand, and beating off the
gnats with the other. Perspiration is
upon his forehead, for the gnats are nu
merous and the battle has waged long;
his sleek hair is twisted by the heat, and
his long coat of Oxford mixture is dusty;
but he looks up with the old good-tem
pered smile, and greets the youth with
the old :
“Well, Hal ?”
“Well,” says Hal, dropping into the
chair nearest the window, and pulling
the curtains into something like a screen.
“By George ! it’s like an oven in here,
and”—looking at the reverend tutor with
merciless candor—“you look half-baked,
sir !”
“It is hot, Hal,” admits Bell, “remark
ably so. It is true this room faces the
south-----”
“And it is evidently the favorite and
fashionable resort of every fly in For
bach,’ says Hal, striking out wildly at a
cloud of those insects. “What are you
doing, sir—besides melting, I mean ?”
“I’m writing to your excellent aunt,
my boy!” says the Reverend Peter. “I
promised her that I would let her know
■ whe——
I “Whether I get into any mischief or
i not; thank you, sir. I’ve been pretty
i good up to now—eh ?”
! “Y—es,” says Bell, with a little dry
; cough of hesitation.
! “Oh, come sir,” says Hal, lazily expost-
' ulating; “I regard myself as a pattern
J of propriety.”| “Well—well !” says Bell, leaning for-
! ward and mopping his forehead; “but 1
: wish you would address yourself with
acquiring the language-----”
’ “All right, sir,’ says Hal; “I shall pick
I it up in time. To tell you the truth
i that’s the only thing that will give a for-
■ eigner the proper German acent. I’ve
got some fish. I wonder whether they
would let us have them for dinner ?”
“I dare say,” says Bell,peering into the
basket, through his spectacles. “Dear
me ! they look very like English trout. I
think I should like to try and catch some
myself, eh, Hal ?”
He laughs, knowing well that “Old
Bell” could no more throw a fly than
shot a pheasant.”
“All right,’ ’he says, “we’ll .have a try
to-morrow.
Then he leans his elbows on the open
windowsill, and looks down into the
street with more of thoughtfulness on
his face than it usually wears.
Bell, meanwhile, returns to his letter,
the completion of which is not greatly
facilitated by the low and incessant
whistling which Hal carries on.
Suddenly the whistling ceases, and
without looking arouitd, he says:
“Did you ever see a princess, Bell?”
“Did I ever—no; oh, yes, once, in Ken
sington Gardens,” says Bell, mopping his
forehead and smiling meditatively,
“I forget which princess it was, but she
was very fair and stout, and looked in a
pleasing manner-----”
“Oh,” puts in Hal, “I don’t mean that
sort of thing. Anybody can see a princess
in a carriage or at the theatre—or at
1
.1
me
that!” says Hal, laughing. “It makes
me feel like the idiots who go about
with a knapsack and dressed like
mountebanks! No, I’m staying at For-
bach till some friends arrive. They
are coming to that castle—Schloss, they
call it—on the hill there.”
“The Konig’s Schloss?” she says, nod
ding. “Yes, I know it. It belongs to a
great English milord, doesn’t it? What
is his name?”
“The Marquis of Ferndale,” said Hal.
“ Yes, that is it. Your English
are so difficult to remember,
dale, that is pretty.”
“Yes,” says Hal, carelessly;
name is Vane, though; at least,
what we all call him. He married my
sister.”
“Your sister,” she says, thoughtfully.
“Is she like you?” naively.
“Like me—Jeanne?” says Hal, indif
ferently. “I’m sure I don’t know. No,
I should say not. Jeanne is very
pretty.”
The girl looks at him with a little
names
Fern-
“his
that’s
grave smile playing about her mobile'
lips.
"She is pretty—and not like you,” she
says. ‘LA’
that rightc
a beautiful place.
Villa Verona?”
“No,“ says Hal.
he hesitates.
“That is where
staying,” she says,
tie white house—o'
Schloss!-—just by the church.”
“I know,” says Hal. "Perhaps I might
—I mean—that is-----”
“Yes?”
“I thought,” says Hal, fumbling with
his basket, with a very red face, “that
I might, that you wouldn’t mind if I
called to ask if that beastly hook hadn’t
hurt your arm much.”
“Will you?” she says, not eagerly, but
with a frank smile of pleasure. “ That
is very kind! I shall be very glad! It
is very quiet and dull—is quiet the
right word? You see I do not speak
English very well.”
“Why!” exclaims Hal, enthusiastical
ly, “y°u speak it perfectly! Your gram
mar is first-rate, and—and—in fact, you
couldn’t speak it better if you tried.”
“Now you are complimentary,” she
says, “and that is not like your country
men—they always speak the truth.”
“Do they?” says Hal, ironically. “Not
always, by George!”
There is a minute’s silence after this
subtle burst of satire. She breaks it.
“Are you staying all alone?”
“No,” says Hal, “Ih
with me.”
She stares at. him, opening her dark
eyes to their widest.
“Your coach-and-four ?” she asks.
“No—no!” says hal, laughing, “ my tu
tor, Peter Bell, a clergyman who looks
after me,” he adds, with a smile, “ and
sees I don’t get into mischief and fall
into the water. Though, by the way,
I had to pull him out of the lake! He
is at the hotel; it is too hot for him, and
he stayed behind, reading the paper.”
“And are you going to be a clergy
man?” she asks, thoughtfully.
“Not I,” said Hal, decidedly; “I’m go
ing to be a barrister, or going into the
army—I don’t quite know which. But
it’s holiday time just now.”
“I see,” she says, musing. “Well, I
hope you will be happy.”
He doesn’t bow, as he
doesn’t lift his hat; but,
ion, he says:
“Thanks—the same to
And it is much to his
instead of smiling in reply, as an English
girl would do, she looks dreamily before
her, and sighs.
Suddenly—too suddenly for Hal—she
stops short at a little path.
“I go along here,” she Bays. “We
must say good-bye.”
“Good—good-bye,” says Hal, and he
raises his hat.
She makes him a little bow, grave and
demure, and is about to pass on, when
Hal suddenly bethinks him.
“Oh!” he says. “Wait—I mean, do
you mind telling me your name?—so
that I can inquire, you know.”
“My name?” she says. “Yes. My
name is Verona—the Princess Verona.”
and she smiles.
Hal stands turned into stone. A true
Englishman, he respects rank. This
simple, frank girl, wr.ose arm he has
been cutting about with his penknife, is
a princess! What right has he to be
walking f.o far with so great a lady?
He lifts his hat.
“Tdge-d evening,” he says. “I didn’t
‘And she’s the marchioness—is
Yes, the Konig’s Schloss is
Do you know
“Is that-----”
li re
the
and
am
I|
’ve got my coach [
!I
i
ought to do—
in blunt fash-
I
“So do I, Hal,”he says, ‘T—I am an
old friend, and,of course, if;’s only nat-
ural that I sho uld wish to see her, and
rejoice in her h piness, isn ’t it ?—only
natural.”
“Just so,” sa;Hal. “Hrillo ! there’3
that old cracke d bell for t he table d’-
hoto. What a I ssing one 1cloesn’t have
to put on swaiIon’-tails. 1’1!1 just wash
my hands and b<2 d ainute. Keep
a place for me Dll', and,say, I wish
you’d ask them they’ve 5pot a bottle
of Bass—that ;low wine,with ten
stomachaches t<) a bottle, d oesn’t agree
with me !”
And he clatters out of the room.
Bell puts up his writing case—“A pre
sent from the parishioners to the Rever
end Peter Bell, Curate of Newton. Regis,”
inscribed in gilt letters on the outside
thereof—and, sighing softly, slowly des
cends to the Speise Saab or dining-room.
Hal runs up to his room, his service
able boots still clattering on the polish
ed floors; but instead of making straight
for the washing-stand, with the ridicu
lous pie dish and milk jug, which German
hotel-keepers provide for ablutionary
purposes, he seats himself on the bed,
and slowly rubs his head, as is his way
when he wants to tliinK.,
“A princess!” he says; “Princess of
what, and what ’is her father the King
of ? George, she’s too good—too—too
jolly to be a princess ! Shall I call to
morrow ? Perhaps, when they hear I’ve
run a fishing hook in her arm, they’ll
seize me and order me off for instant
execution !” and he laughs.
Then he takes out the fishing-hook,
and looks at it curiously.
“It’s what old Bell would call an ad
venture,” he says, smiling. “Why should
not I call ? Of course it’s the proper
thing to do. Yes, I will !”
Then, with much and eloquent abuse
of the pie dish, he performs his limited
toilet and goes down.
Bell has saved a seat for him—a wise
precaution, for the long, narrow table
is lined on both sides by a company that,
however mixed as regards status and na
SOME HOLSTEIN TESTS.
Twelve additional official tests are
reported by G. W. Clemons, Secretary
of the Holstein-Friesian Association of
Canada. All of these were made under
the direction and supervision of Prof.
Dean, of the Ontario Agricultural Col
lege, and may be relied upon as strictly
authentic. The most noteworthy rec
ord is that of Sara Jewel Ilengerveld,
a four-year-old cow owned by W. W.
> Brown, Lyn, Ontario. The following is
the list:
(1) Sara Jewel Hengerveld (4407), at
4y 2m 25d: milk, 533.1 lbs; fat 19.79 ibs;
butter, 23.09 lbs; owner, W. W. Brown,
Lyn, Ont.
(2) Speckle (3844) at 3v 8m 26d; milk,
375.2 lbs; fat. 11.49 lbs; butter, 13.40 lbs;
second week, milk, .389 lbs; fat, 11.84
lbs; butter, 13.81 lbs; owner, W. W.
Brown, Lyn, Ont.
(3) Betty Waldorf (4023) at 3y 30d;
milk, 380.8 lbs; fat, 11.21 lbs; butter,
I 13.08 lbs; owner, W. W. Brown, Lyn,
Ont.
(4) Dora Pietertje Clothilde (4029) at
2v Um 20d; milk, S73..5 lbs; fat, 11.08
lbs; butter, 12.93 lbs; owner, S. Macklin,
s Streetsville. Ont.
j (;5) Beryl Wayne’s Granddaughter
i (4412) at 2v 14d; milk, 281.3 lbs.; fat,
I 10.16 lbs.; butter, 11.85 Ibs; owner, W.
1 W. Brown.
! (0) Daisy Akkrum DeKoi (3652) at
! 3y Um 23d; milk, 267.1 ibs; fat, 10.06
; lbs.; butter 11.73 lbs.; owner, W. W.
I Brown.
’ (7) Acme Molley, .(4677) at 2y 3m
; 10d; milk, 337.2 lbs; fat, 9.14 lbs; but-
‘ ter, 10.66 lbs; owner, J. W. Cohoe, New
■ Durham, Ont.
: (8) Bewunde Aggie Pearl. 2nd (5795)
. at lv Um lid; milk. 209.8 lbs; fat, 8.6
s lbs;" butter, 10.03 lbs; owner, George
i Rice, TiIlsenburg. Ont.
f (9) Johanna Wayne Do Koi (4S25), at
i 2v 10m 24d; milk,-253.6 lbs; fat, 8.44
l lbs; butter. 9.84 lbs; owner, W. W.
Brown.
(10) Inka DeKoi Waldorf (4411) at
2y 5m 12d; milk, 248,1 lbs; fat, 8.34
fbs.; butter, 9.73 -lbs.; owner, W. W.
Brown.
(ID Homestead Mercena (4678( at 2y
2m 6d; milk, 298.2 lbs; fat, 8.19 lbs;
■ butter, 9 55 lbs; owner J. W. Cohoe,
i (12) DeKoi Jewel (4679) at 2y lm
| 5d; milk, 303 lbs; fat. 8.13 lbs; butter,
I 9.49 lbs; owner, J. W. Cohoe.
' ------------------------------------
! ERRORS OF DOCTORS.
Ailment Variously Diagnosed and Dif-
: ferent Treatment Prescribed.
j George W. Hennessey, a life saver, ex-
: amin-ed by a physician of the United
States Marine Hospital in New York and
pronounced “physically fit,” dropped
dead a moment later.
John R. Millspaugh, serving a short
sentence in the Detroit House of Cor
rection for a minor offence, boasted that
he could deceive the physician attached
to that institution. He was taken ill
and the doctors believed he was feigning
illness—until lie died. Then they found
they had deceived themselves. These two
men died on the same day.
Years ago a clever woman reporter
visited the offices of a number of physi
cians, gave them an identical statement,
and., each named a separate complaint
j and prescribed a different course of
treatment.
From time to time the news columns
of the daily press tell how some unfor
tunate has died of injuries and disease
after having been taken in an ambulance
to a hospital where his or her ailment
was diagnosed as “intoxication.”
Yet against any record of blunders, it
may be worth while to offset the action
of Dr. Michael K. Warner, of Baltimore,
who destroyed his accounts before he
died in order that his patients should
not be pressed for payment by his admin
istrators. There was the spirit that ex
alts the medical profession above any
mere science.—New York World.
■'4