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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Times, 1902-11-27, Page 24, --:›4 , * ,. ..... .... DICT By Sr, GEORGE RATHBORNE, Aft ise of 'Vector jades Wife," "Captain Toni,:, "Baron Saxe"' "iiR3w. Patti ue of New Wein" "Mier Caprice," Eqw lack hasbeen in It beedre-the me- mory oC that awful night oan never leave his netnil, and: more than once he has thought what ice outrage that so fair a domain should he awned by such an ogre as tae old Pasha, but such a generally the ease in this world, where one does not have to be beautiful in order to admire lovely creations. Avoiding observation as much as possible, they approach the wall that marks the end of the Pasha's' grounds. albs oan be scaled by an energefte climber, though the average Turk might be appalled at the prospect. Jack has made preparations for just such an emergency, and this Is where his former experience stands him in well. On his person Achmed carries a rope—it is slender, but of a strength beyond question. He now produces it, and bythe time it is unwound from v his waist, where he has carried it, there is a length of some twenty feet revealed. The stars are hidden by a canopy of clouds, and the darkness of the night favours their design, though sharp eyes can see something even amid the general gloom. All is silent around them—the weird noises of the city have been left behind, and in this region of royalty quietness reigns. Jack takes the rope-, and moving along the wall to a certain spot, casts It from him. Having once upon a time been a cowboy in Texas, he knows how to handle a rope—every trick in that line is familiar to him, so that it only requires a few throws in order to fasten the noose above. Jack tries it, his weight does not dis- lodge the rope, and he mounts upward hand over hand, with the agility of a Jack Tar. Reaching the top of the wall, he waits for Achmed, who is longer coming, and whom he is cone - relied to assist by an ene`hgetic pull. The descent is easy enough, and pre- sently they stand in tae garden. Jack makes a note of the epot, by means ' of a cypress tree t .at leans toward the ,wall, and thug feels acre of finding it again in case of a hurry, for there is 'no telling what adventure may befall them ere they again see the outside of those walls. He has made inquiries of the Turk with regard to the truth of the rumour that a. pack of fierce hounds from the steppes of Siberia, accustomed to pull- ing gaunt wolves down, are let loose 'in the Pasha's gardens at nightfall. Achmed can attest to the presence of the dogs, for that day he saw them in their kennels, but he believes it is In- tended that the fierce brutes shall only be allowed their liberty on certain oc- casions, and that the report has been circulated by means of the newspapers and hodjas or school teachers who read them aloud in the cafes, in order to frighten people who might be tempted 'to climb the walls and enter the Pasha's grounds. The one experience Abdallah had with inquisitive foreign- ers, when one of them so nearly ran orf with the prize flower of his harem, has been a lesson to him. Passing among the trees, represent- ing many countries, and along wonder- ful flower beds, that in the daytime present a gorgeous spectacle, Jack and his cornpauion draw near the white walls of the palate, which is built sornething after the manner of a mos- que, having a dome, and several mina- rets alongside. .A. great snarling from one quarter tells where the Siberian hounds are held in leash, and Jack puts one hand ,to where he has his faithful revolver, for should these brutes get loose, they would overtake them long before they ,could reach the friendly wall at the point where the rope dangles, and a terrible encounter must task the prow- ess of the American adventurer to the utmost. Still. not a twinge of fear goes through his heart -the man does not know its meaning, and has faced many a danger even more dreadful without flinching. Now they reach the wall of the marble palace, and Achmed turns to get hire bearings, so he may lead his benefactor to the spot where he saw the grating over the dungeon in which the " dog of a Christian " is immured. " This way," he whispers, and Jack fellows without a word—they get down 'on hands and knees, and inch by inch crawl along, making not the ,faintest sound by means of which their pre- sence can be discovered. It is exciting work, even if silence does mark their progress, for they are on the grounds of the man who hates Doctor jack with all the Vernon of his eastern nature, and, once discovered, their position Will be one of .extreme peril.. Jack chuckles as he thinks of Adbal- lah Pasha, fretting g and fuming m over some small delay en route—if he only knew what the "Christian dogs" were up to how he would tear his hair and gnash his teeth in impotent rage. Somehow the thought encourages the. 'American, and gives him new vim to go at the business in hand, He sees Achmed come to a dead halt, and crouch fog. Has the faithful fel- leer found the granting ? Are they over the dungeon where poor Aleck languishes ? Jack is about to spear when a sound falls on his ear Ile is rooted to the spot, for it is thesoft voice of n woman he hears. Looking beyond the Turk, he now sees a white robed object close to the ground, and ae it move's, ire -realizes that here is thcr source from whence emanates the Sounds he has heard. Both men aro crouching low, their heads are near the earthy which is a splendid condre for of eolznd, lienee they can hear ; laingly. It is a feniale beyond, and had voice is like the rip - Wee' e' of the tit's"xic in the forest, soft,. mellow and musical. Jack has only once before heard such a voice, and it was here on the Bosphorus. Can this be Sady, the lovely hour! with whom bold Aleck tell in love and to rescue whom he placed himself in WS present terrible condition ? Jack's mind goesback to the scene on the border of the Bosphorus, when lasthe saw this enchantress, and he decides In the affirmative, What is she doing here ? It is folly te ask—love, blind god though he may be accounted generally, is keen of eye. and Sady has not only discovered where the one she loves is incarcerat- ed, but has also found a means of communicating with him. Even as they look she rises and. glides away in the direction of the harem, and the last words they hear her drop through the grating are in English : , I will come if I live, Meek." Jack is tempted to stop her, but fears lest she may be surrrised into crying aloud, and bringing upon the scene some of the Pasha's janlzaries, remn- ants or descendants of the famous band which was broken into fragments many years before. Their business is with Mack, and the beauty whose face has drawn him into this dire scrape could be barred out of the question al- together. Achmed no longer holds back, now that the girl has glided away, and in another minute Doctor Jack has his hands resting upon the grating that Iles between Aleck Morton and liberty —between the fair Avis and his own waiting heart. Instinctively he feels the bars to test their resisting quali- ties, and smiles as he remembers the mighty strength that lies in his own ' sturdy arms and Herculean shoulders. If it comes to a tug of war, he does not doubt but that he will be able to tear the whole grating out, and thus insure an opening for Aleck to pass through. Achmed says nothing, but goes a tit- tle farther on—the faithful armourer n ould mount guard while Jack holds his conversation with the man in the dungeon, so that he may warn them in time should any one approach. It would be hard to define the feel- ings of the American, as he crouches low and puts his head near the grat- ing to listen. Surrounded by the many things that remind him of the fact of his being in a Turkish garden, and a garden of a bitter enemy at that, ne yet remembers that he is Tack Evans, and his friend. the brother of the girl he loves, lies in a dungeon below. Listening intently, he can hear no sound—all is as silent as the grave. Were it a tomb he hangs over, it could not be more desolate and still—truth to tell, it is a living tomb for the wretch- ed prisoner of the Pasha. Jack can stand It no longer—he must speak, and know the worst. So he presses his face close down to the cruel bars, and whispers : " Aleck !" The sound seems to steal down into the awful darkness of the dungeon, but no reply comes back to greet him. Jack listens for a minute, and then tries again, this time in a louder key. He believes he hears a rusTling sound —on the instant he imagines it is the { clanking of chains, Achmed has not said anything ab gut Aleck being weighted down this way, and a feeling on' actual horror seizes Jack at the veru thought. He conceives an idea—in the old days when Aleck and he were chums they had a secret little whistle used as a signal—it is easily given, and by a stranger might be mistaken for the nctes of some sleepy bird awakened at the wrong hour. Jack smiles to remember how history repeats itself— how, when hundreds of years ago, in the times of the. Crusades, the English king, Richard Coeur de Leon, was held captive by Duke Leopold of Austria in the old castle of Durenstein, his faith- ful minstrel, Blondel, roaming all Eu- rope in search of his missing master, played and sang the familiar romaunt under the walls of the castle, and in this way discovered his king, who re- cognized the air he loved and the voice of Blondel. He gives the signal whistle clearly— there is a distinct movement below, and then a groan. A voice breaks on his ear, full of lamentation and misery —he can hardly realize it Aleck who thus exclaims : "Surely my dream is come true—my mind wanders. I imagine I hear sounds that in the nature of things cannot be. Let me look the truth calmly in the face—what does that in- dicate ? Am S to go, mad ? Oh ! ye gods, it is a fate I have always shud- dered at. Ari -thin but that. dere If he y g would only kill me outright I would thank him, but to -die and yet live for years—what can I do to bring the end quickly 1' If he would put me up and have a file of his soldiers shoot me, I would show him how an American boy could meet death with a laugh, but such a. fate as this—I wonder if Avis will ever know -dear Avis—never to see her Aleck again—I hope she may- be happy in her ignorance of his cruel doom." Jack can etand it no longer --a great lump seems to have arisen in his throat as rie listens to the ravings of his friend in the prison below. " Aleck l" he calls, • perhaps louder than prudence may have dictated, but for the' moment caution IS a secondary matter with hint—the querulous voice below creases its 'murmuring. ' "Who calls me ?" asks the unseen Aleck, in a quivering tone of mingled hope and tear. l;t is I. -Doctor jack,". "1,1'ct no, you deeefve rhe -he is dead • —they told me se -.-they swore It to ,1ne," (ries the prisoner. "Then they lied to you," cooly re- pliea. Tack. ",Slave you any means of climbing up here to this grating so we oan talk ?" for he has a pretty good Kea that Aleck was close to Sady at the time she cooed her farewell to him. " Y'es, yea, In a minute. Wait for me —don't go away, Jack, for God's sake. I'm coming, indeed I. am," he talks constantly, poor fellow, as he labor!-. ously climbs the wall in a way he has arranged long ago,- just as though he fearslest it shall all prove a delusion and a snare . " I have • been up here many "-night looking at the stars and, wondering if Avis were watching them then, Here I am at last—I was sure to get here—where are you, ofd fellow ? You haven't gone—you wouldn't desert your ,fleck ? Answer me, my brain Will burst—answer, for Heaven's sake." Jack does mare—he seizes the hand that has been thrust through the grat- ing and squeezes it in both of his—ay, bends down and kisses it, and without shame to his manhood, drops a scald- ing tear upon it, as he realizes how thin is Aleck's once plump member. " Poor boy ! poor Alepk ! to think what you have suffered here, while I roamed the streets of Paris with every luxury that money could buy.. I never dreamed that you were alive until lately when I !darned certain things that gave see a clew, and, I made all haste to reach your side." He caresses the thin hand as a mother might that of her sick child. '" I cue hardly believe my sense,:. -Can it be you, indeed, Jack ? Then my prayers aro answered and --bend down, and let see touch your face—I cannot see you, but I may feel." The hand creeps over Jack's face— how it thrills him—then a feeling of horror strikes to his soul—Aleck has. said he could not see. Have they burned out his eyes in torture ? It is a favourite method of revenge among the Turks. " Great Heaven ! you are not blind. Aleck—they have not put out your eyes ?" he cries. " No, no, it is the darkness I com- plained of. I know 3 ou are Jack now, and I thank God for the fact of yot}r coming. You can now carry the news of my fate home to Avis." " Carry fiddlesticks ! I came here to take you away with rne, and I'm going to do it to -morrow night if I have to blow the whole castle of the Pasha to pieces." " That would be joy indeed, but .1 am afraid you cannot do,it, Jack. You will be caught and put to death—we could never quit the country. Better leave me to my fate." " Don't bother your head about that. Rest assured that when Jack Evans decides to do a thing mountains won't halt him. Out of this you come in an- other night dead certain. I've made all preparations, old fellow, and we'll soon be beyond the jurisdiction of Mr. Turk." " You give me new life—already I seem to sniff the salty air of liberty. Yes, I will go with you, and if we suc- ceed I shall take you to Avis—you re- member how often I have talked of her—she shall reward you for your noble devotion to her Aleck" Jack's heart beats like a trip ham- mer—the words seem so prophetic that he laughs merrily. " Aleck, old man, I've got the start of you there. • Avis and I are good friends—it is as much for her sake as your own that I am here now." " Avis—you know her ?" surprised and delighted. " Know her—yes, and love her with all my heart and soul," earnestly. " Thank God for that—it is what. I have longed and dreamed for in the past. Where did you meet her— where is she now ?" " We met in a picture gallery at Aladrid—she was at the bull -fight, and saw me get away with a black devil of a toro that had flung the regular matador out of the ring. Some strange adventures followed, and we have be- come very good friends, indeed—sworn allies in the design of rescuing one Aleck Morton from the hands of the wily Turk" " She is here ?" " Yes, in Stamboul, ready to lend any assistance in her power; to show her love for you. But no more need be said—I must go now. You will be ready to -morrow night-?" " Ready—the minutes between will be years," breathes the poor prisoner. " Well, good -by until then, old fel- low. Take care how you descend. Have your trunks all packed ready for a sea voyage," a squeeze of the hand, and Doctor Jack turns away with tears in his eyes, for this meeting has af- fected him in a most extraordinary manner. (To Be Continued.) SHAH'S RICH GLOBE. In Teheran may be seen the cost- liest geographical globe in the world, It is the property of the Shah, and it 10 said that he fre- quently studies it. The surface of the earth is represented on it by precious stones, and in its construc- tion nothing but solid gold has been used. Thousands • of emeralds show where the ocean, seas, lakes and rivers are located, the entire continent of Africa is covered with rubies, Persia is represented by tur- quoises, and from the space allotted, toWaco rand I' England flash hun- dreds of diamonds. As to the value of the globe no estimate has over been made, but, as it contains more than fifty thousand precious stones, it must be worth a fortune. The Shah, however, has no intention of disposing of it. PERSONAL EXPERIENCE,. The regiment was quartered in Dublin at the time, and the wife of the colonel, being in need of a nursemaid, thought she ought to be able to fed a good-natured, guile- less girl without going very far afield. That she found precisely' what she v'as looking for the following con- Versation testifies, "You say you're fond of children,-; Said the colonel's wife, "but have yott any experience of children '?"•. "Yis, murn," said the guileless girl ; "0i used to be a child mesilf tvalrst." FOR FARMERS Seasonable and Profitable '. Hints for the Bisay Tillers %'4( of the 5011, t. WEEDS. There are two classes of weeds— those that comp from seeds and those which are propagated princip- ally by means of their roots. Weeds which spring. up from seeds can be. destroyed by successively bringing the 'seeds in the soil to the surface, where they germinate. The seeds of some weeds havo great vitality and remain i•n the 'soil for.years, Some 'are enclosed in clods and are retain- ed for another season but. when the clods are broken and the weed sends exposed to warmth near the sur- face, thoy are put out of existence by the harrow as soon as they ger- minate, for which reason it is im- possible to clear a piece of land from weeds in a season unless every clod is pulverized. The oft -repeated inquiry : "From whence came the weeds ?" may be answered : "From the clods." Tho weeds that spring from roots are cut up, checked and prevented from growing by frequent cultivation, becauso they breathe through the agency of the leaves. The advantage derived by the soil in the work of weed destruction .re- duces tie cost of warfare on the weeds, for every time the harrow or cultivator is used the manure is more intimately mixed with the soil, more clods are broken, a greater proportion of plant food is offered to the roots, the. loss of moisture is lessened and the capacity of the plants of the crop to secure more food is increased. The cost of the destruction of weeds should not be charged to the accounts of a single year only, as thorough work during a season may obliterate the weeds entirely, or so reduce their number as to make the cost of their de- struction during succeeding years but a trifle. BREEDINGG FOR EGGS. With the exercise of patience along with correct principles in selecting breeding stock a strain of layers may be established that will add greatly so the profits of the poultry keeper. The Australian Station, Farm and Dairy correctly remarks : "Experiments have been made to see if the number of rows of corn on a cob could not be increased with success. The same metho'd which was pursued with the corn is ;applicable to poultry breeding. For example, one starts with fowls that lay 120 eggs each in. a year. Among their descendants are some that lay 150 eggs per year, and, these are selected for breeding. From these some are produced that lay 175 eggs per year, and from !these, perhaps, the 200 egg -per -year- ' fowls as with corn, for it is hen is produced. The problem is not quite so simple necessary to breed the males, as well as the females, year after year, from prolific layers in order to succeed. if one looks after the breeding of i the females only, he may introduce !on the male side blood. which is !lacking in prolificacy and thus check every attempt at progress. It be- comes necessary, therefore, to breed the males ifrom hens that are vary- ing in t!4 desired condition, and that show acumulative variability in that direction. It is j ust as essential that the male should be from a hen that laid 175 eggs and from a male that was bred from a hen that laid 150 eggs, as it is that the hen was from one that laid 175 eggs and whose moth- er laid 150 eggs, if the 200 -egg -bird is to be produced. Improvers of laying fowls are apt to forget this, and introduce males with little regard to their breeding, and then wonder why the prolificacy of the flock does not increase." WEEDING THE FLOCK... Every flock should be weeded or culled twice a year. It does not pay to keep weakly, dwarfed or inferior stock for either breeding, laying, or raising broilers. This is where so many poultry keepers' profits go — to the main- tainence of inferior stock. The weak- ly fowls often take sick and start disease among the entire flock. The old hens do not lay well and their places should be filled by thrifty pul- lets. The most profitable time to dis- pose of the old hens is the last of May and the first of June. By that time they have laid the spring lay- ing of eggs, and they are usually fat and the prices are fairly good. Again, in September, the flock should be inspected and all that are not thrifty or desirable should be sold. Remember, it costs at least 75 _.rt . ria• = eeaCn �, .1� 14\�•\111" •. vF�G c'Cl X57....._ � i .. Cts ,40:2,:___.--9 • "1 beliebo Ize got a nibble !" cents to board a hen a year, and if not in healthy condition and produc- tive she will consume the profit of one healthy hen. Thus, if one keeps a flock of 100 hens and 50 are old and sickly and 50 are vigorous, there will be no profit, as the board or food of the sickly old hens will consume the pro- fit the healthy ones. POP,TC FOR THE FARMER. The farmer that can produce the pork for his own family without having to depend on the outside market is indeed lucky. Ho can save all the expenses of shipping, freight commissions and the profits of wholesalers and retailers. He can not only produce the kind of pork that suits him best, but he can pro- duct healthy pork. He can feed his hogs food that will produce hard in- stead of soft pork. Tho objection to producing a: high-class hog for the market• is that it costs the farmer much more in the way of feed and he gets no more for him. Naturally, the farmer, when raising hogs for his own consumption, can afford to produce the high-class hog, and it is his aim to produce a pork that con- tains a large proportion of lean meat and a very small proportion of fat. It will be in the interest of his family's health to do so. To preve te yon that Dr, Chase's Ointment la a certain and absolute awn dor each and every Corm at itching, bleeding and protruding piles, the mranntaeturere have guaranteed it. Scetee timoniole in the daily preys and ask yourr.ojgh- bors what they thin • oat. Yon can use it and lldeaIersorEOM$ aoN,BATae&C ..Toront , 0r3 ©base's Into -Tient EXERCISE FOR COWS. This is a live stock question which will always have two sides. Most dairymen admit, however, for the good of the cow and her offspring she should have a moderato amount of exercise every day during the win- ter, unless of course it is exceeding- ly. stormy. Whenever there is sunshine or when there is no rain or snow falling, she should be turned out of the stable for an hour or so during the middle of the day. The man who is interested in producing butter or milk, and who cares noth- ing for the cow's health or her fu- ture, can probably make more money by preventing exercise and feeding heavily. Some dairymen can afford to do this, but most cannot. LOCATION FOR ICE HOUSE. A convenient location is a hillside, in which case it may be partly un- derground, putting in the ice at one gable end. Ice may be kept in a cellar, in a shed or other building if the drainage is perfect. A great convenience in the ice house' is a small room with the ice packed on three sides of it. In such a room, milk, meat, butter and fruit can be kept very conveniently in warm wea- ther. The usual plan of cold stor- age on the farm, however, is to place the cool room under the room where the ice is • kept, cold air de- scending into the storage room. Billy—(`Your dad hez given up smokin', hain't '0?" Johnny -- "Yes. How'd you know?" l il- ly—"I seen 'im kickin' the dorg." WAGER A SURE THING. Here is a practical joke which is now causing much amusement Europe. As you walk along a street with some friend, say to him : "You see that man in front of us ? We]1, I'll bet you $5 that I'll knock his hat over his ears." Your friend will naturally accept your wager, and all you then have to do is to step up behind the unsuspecting man and hot his hat such a blow with your fist that it will come down over his eyes. Ten to one he will begin to fume and swear like a trooper, and while he is struggling to get hit his hat such a blow with your tion, you must pull your own hat down dyer your eyes, just as though some one had subjected you to sim- ilar treatment. As aresult, when he turns round to attack you, he will conclude that you too, havo been insulted by some one, and the next minute both of you will be looking in every direction for the ruffian who has damaged your hats and disturbed your temper. Then you will condole with each other for a few minutes, after which you will rejoin your friend and demand the 55 you have won. NEED OF LAUGHTER.' Laughter is a good, healthy, -nus- cle=making, lung developing exercise, and it is as good for girls as boys. And humor can be cultivated fn a girl's mind without any abatement of the dignity and modesty and charm of her womanhood. Not the unpleasant and constant frivolity evidenced in "smart" speech, or quickness of repartee, but the hum- or that looks at the world with a twinkle in the eye and sees its ab- surditios, its smallness and its fun. It should bo a part of every wo- man's mental equipment, for women are called upon to bear as many of life's small worries as well as its greater ones. The bringing up of children, the care of servants and the many social duties that become a burden—all are made easy and pos- sible to put up with by the woman with an unfailing sense of the bright side of life. It is a sense that lasts through life, through its many ills, its dissolutions, its tribulations, even its tragedies. • PERFUMES LIKED BY HORSES: However little credit' a horse may commonly receive for possessing delicacy of scent, there are some perfumes grateful to him. Horse - trainers are aware of the fact, and make use of the knowledge in train- ing stubborn and apparently in- tractable animals. Many trainers have favorite perfumes the composi- tion of which they keep a secret, and it is the possession of this means of appealing to the horse's aestheticisrri that enables so many of them to accomplish such wonderful results. PIGS ,FOLLOWING CATTLE. Where the cattle are on heavy feed and where their feed is not ground, one pig should be kept to two steers. It .is a serious waste not to have plenty of hogs about the cattle feed lot. Sluggish Liver, Clogged d�.t r r' eys The Source of Stereaoh Derangements, ,Bodily Pains and Ashes and Endless Suffering Regulated by Dr. Chase's • KId;ney-Liver Pills. It is very seldom that either the liver or kidneys are affected inde- pendently of one another. They are both filtering organs, and conse- quently when one becomes sluggish and torpid in action the other is similarly deranged, aid both are to a large extent dependent oa the bowels to remove the waste product from the body. Dr. Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills are phenomenally successful in curing kidney and liver derangements, stomach troubles; biliousness,and constipation, because of their direct `anti,,eoinbinod °action On these or- gans. That they cure the most "I was recommended to try Dr. chronic and complicated diseases of kidneys, liver, and bowels haSX been proven in thousands of cases, Mrs. Yoke, 223 Church street, To- ronto, states :—"I am leased to ti at v p ra e d m testimony to rho c tt akh y properties of Dr. Chase's Kidney- Liver Pills. A combination of liver and kidney troubles brought me to a very low condition, and before coming to Toronto I was continually under doctor's caro, both at Chat- ham and Guelph. I was Subject to stomach troubles and constipation, and my sight got so bad that 1 could scarcely sen to sew,; Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, arid at- tribute my present good health arid clear vision to their regular use. They seemed to be exactly suited to my case and did more 4004 than ally medicine I ever used. To per- sons of sedentary habits and those who sit sewing all day long 1 strong- ly reeemmeri� D r. Chase's Kidney - Liver y Liver Pills. To my mind they havo no equal as general health restor- ers.' Dr. Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, one pill a dose, 25 dents a box, et all dealers, or Edraanson, Dptes .ik t3a„ Toronto WHAT WILD ANIMAS' SOME OF THEM H.A"Q $ C VERY VA.LU&S.Tati. Lions Cost Prom $500 to $1,0011, --African Elephants Are bTow Scarce. Lions vary very . murl'i in prim, says Mr. Carl Hagenbeclr, (he famous, wild' animal dealer: Taltha now coma from Eupia, the Egyptian. Soudan, and Senegal: A Nubian adult lion is worth about $1,000, and a Senegal lion from $500 to $750. Tho finest lions were those obtain- ed from the North African moult - tains. They no longer exist, " but that breed is obtained by crossing those already iii captivity ' with Nubian lions. The male has a ,:very fine mane, and is worth froirn $1,350 to 51,500. In the same way you can get Sumatra tigers from $375 to $1,000, whereas wild young Bengal tigers fetch from $750 to 51,500 apiece, have lately sold a 'number of Sib rian tigers, very fine beasts, fo which I received 51,250 to 51.,500, A good Indian elephant may be obtained for 5600, whereas 51,500 would hardly purchase an African elephant. The latter are now very scarce; indeed, only five have been imported into Europe. since 1880. The recent wars in the 'Egyptian Soudan have absolutely ruined the y' e burn ss in AFRICAN 'ELEPHANTS One of the dearest animals that zoos . purchase now is the giraffe. Previous to 1880 they came to Europe very plentifully from the Egyptian Soudan. In the year •1876 I had no fewer than thirty-five ar- rive here in five weeks. Bets eexuthe years 1880 and 1900 only .4n'eo giraffes have been imported into Europe, two coming from -South Africa, and the other from Senegal. This latter, ,a very fine male, ]: sold to the 'London Zoo for 54,500. Quite a number of zoos would willingly ray from $2,500 to 54,000 for a good specimen. The two animals .which .are ' ex- ceedingly scarce, now are the hippo- potamus and the rhinoceros. Last year I had a young hippo which I could have sold several tunes ' over for $4,000, but .1 thought t wonlat keep it. It suddenly died,' so you sen it was- a big loss to me. The male hippopotamus at the London Zoo was obtained, I believe,' at a cost of $4,000. The rhinoceros is a dearer animal still. Thirty years ago I supplied the London Zoo with an African male rhinoceros. It was the first rhinoceros brought to Europe since. the days of the Roman Amphi- . theatre. The Zoological Society gave $6,250 for it. It was quite a baby. when it arrived in Londor, being then only two years old. ',These animals are noir very scare while they are very difliciilt rrn_ over alive. It is necessary to secure them when quite babies. You have then to kill the mother and feed her offspring on milk, as well as bring it, several. • 8 THOUSANDS O.T' MILES. Last October I obtained from Mongolia a herd of twenty-eight wild horses, which were the first horses from this district ever seen in Europe. Some of them were sold at , 52,500 apiece. I have disposed of all of them with the exception of two, which I run keeping for breed- ing purposes. A good pair of zebras. will cost anything from 51,500 to 52,500. 1 am now training a psi lb ` harness, and that is 'only a matter of time and patience, when they will be very valuable indeed. A little later in the day the writer noticed one of these beautiful spirit- ed .creatures being taken round, the grounds by five stalwart riien. Each of them had plenty of rope, for a. young zebra, to put it .mildly, is: a very, stubborn animal to train. The rarer specimens of snakes and monkeys could not be obtained without a good banking account. Young •gorillas run frdm 5750up- wards. Some of the rarer kinds" of deer -and sheep fetch quite remark- able prices. The London Zoo once gale $3775 for an Argali sheep. That the clearest animals in Mr..' Hagen - beck's ostablislunent are.` naturally his trained groups. At • the present tinte there is a group of three lions, six Bengal. tigers, three Tibet bears, 4'. two large Polar bears, andfour boarhounds performing at Blackpool, :,, which Mr. Hagenbeck has refused to (Is sell for 550,000. A SCOTCH AGREEMENT. A tourist lately while up shooting in. Scotland came upon an old couple on a country road who evidently were having high words. Thinking he might pacify them fie asked them why they had not sense enough to agree. We're no' disagrecin' at a'," said the old man. "The fact is we're baith o' the same mind_". "And how's that ' said- t1 e vi rot- or, a little surprised. "Wce1," was the answer, "I've got a half-crown in ma pooch, and she thinks she's no' gaun to get it, an', I think the same." WRITING LESSONS, The Post Office in India: not ' only collects and delivers letters; parcels, and other articles, but acts to , a certain extent as a banker to the general public, sells quinine and salt, pays military pensions, and collects the revenue' accruing to the Govern- ment from land and other sources. But to the fertile braid of one of .the oldest officers 'in the department is' due the latest o�,uvelopnient in 4.11e world of the Post 1Yi5co, The Pun".tb Post Write' has come forward as an elementary teacher. It not only el- lects letters and delivers them, silt teaches `boys in elementary se)., -cis hew to write thein and adilross !:'(ie 0o vers.