Exeter Times, 1903-3-5, Page 6N UNSOUGHT WEALTH'
Or The flystery of a Brother's Legacy.
444-re++++44444444444+444.14+++++4444++44+444.,
CRAPTElt XI.
The hall was filled with aderise
and suffocating sneene.- which pene-
trated. into every nook and cranny,
as though the place was on fire. But
there were no signs of flame. And
in the intense silence which follow-
ed the cessation of that renfrkable
noise which had proceeded •from the
stage the smoke began to disappear,
Nobody seethed to notice where it
went, but it did go, and by degrees
the air was as clear again as
though it had not been.
And as the smoke passed away,t
the people were revealed, in the
clear brilliance of the electric light,
all standing up, and with white,
frightened faces turned towards the
stage. Sou/ethane very cueious
'seemed to have happened there. The
table and two of the chairs were
overturned, and on the third chair
sat—if such an attitude can bo
spoken of as sitting—Mr. Samuel
Bookham. He had every appear -
lies branded with the brand of
Cain." In his excitement the cleri-
cal gentleinan misplaced "the brand
of Cain," but that was but an over-
sight. "There is the livid mark
about his ia.eck where the life was
tern from him by murderous heads.
And there is the man who did the
deed," — pointing to Mr. Hoolcha,m,
who seemed. gradually \voicing to the
fact that he was ,being pointed at.
"You see how his vietina fought for
his life — the blood upon his cheeks
—his clothes torn all to fragments!
And here are his accomplices.! ' —
turning on M. and Madame Nur-
vetchky "the conjurer a,nd his
painted wife! But every moment
wasted is an added crime. Why are
the police not here?"
"Do I understand you seriously to
assert that I, or any person here,
has b.ad a „hand in this man's
death?"
, As he put this question M. Nur-
votelncy's ale of sleepiness and •of
mace of having been engaged• in some baredom seeined temPorarily to have
desperate struggle. His coat was disappeared. '
"Do not speak to me, you villain!.
A minister of the ;Word can hold no
con.verse with sireh as you., Send
for the police!"
torn all down the back, one of .the
sleeves seemed to be attached only
by a few loose threads to the shoul-
der, his shirt was ripped, open at the
neck, his waistcoat was unbuttoned,
and there was a great scratch, .all
down one side of his face.Tie 18.y, a very interesting way it promised
rather than sat, on his chair, which to '—with every prospect of the in -
was balanced on its two hind legs. terest increasing as he went on. The
His head, with .the blood streaming Colonel interposed with -some aiper-
from the open wound—or scratch.
on his right cheek, rested on his aI think you must be of a san-
chest, and. his arms dangled loosely guine temperament, sir, and see
at bis sides. On the whole, he did.
hot present at all a creditable pic-
ture.
But his was not the only singular
figure to he seen upon that little
stage, which, for once in .a way,
might truly claim to have been the
scene of an entertainment of mys-
tery and imagination, a scene which
had lost none of its piquancy
through having been an unrehearsed.
effeet. There was a figure there, the
figure of a man, which appealed even
more strongly to the imagination
than Mr. Hookhaxn's, it lay so very
still—right in the center, full length
upon the carpet, with his face turn-
ed towards the grolind. It was the
figure of Mr. Percy Leicester.
Still in silence the people con:
tinued to stare. Why did he not get
up? And why did he lie on. his face
there, so very still? In the front
stood Colonel Dewsnap, staring
dowil upon his friend. At the back
was Madame Nurvetchky, her
fists gentleman's madness, was not shared
clenched so tightly that one fancied by the audience, or not by all of
e
that her flnger nails must be piercing them, at any rate. Thrubicund
gentleman in particular was very
the flesh efaher hands. On the right
lean fig_ clear upon. the point.
stood her husband, his tall,
-ure drawn straght up, peering . "I was not upon the stage, and 7
through his sleepy -looking, hall -dos- saw a crime, as 1 ani prepared to
ed eyelids at the man who lay up- depose on oath in any court in Eng -
on the ground. land."
Suddenly a voice rang' out, and so And there were cries of "Senefor
intense and strained had the silence the police!'" some of them very ugly
become that the people started at cries. But ugly co; not, they were
the sound of it. necessary, since it appeared that
"Mr. Leicester!" It was Willy somebody had sent for the police al -
Penton. It is possible that he ready. For presently two members
would have allowed that he had had of the force appeared, followed at
what be calico ids "five bobs' short intervals by others, so that
worth" by new — his "five bobs'
worth" and perhaps a trifle over.
No answer. He called again, "Mr.
Leicester!"
Still silence. Then M. Nurvetchky
,made a move.
"Mr. Leicester!"
He stooped over the recumbent
figure. Then the Colonel came to
his side. Kneeling down, he touch-
ed his friend on the arm,
"Leicester!" Then, as the people so much impressed with the clerical
watched him, scarcely seeming to g-entlenian!s melodramatic manner as
oreathe, he turned him over on his. he ought to have been. Policeman
back. "My God! he's dead!" No. 2 knelt down by the recumbent
The words came from him with un- figure on the stage.
:onscious profanity—in the army "Ire is dead. How came he by
there are still gentlemen who swear, his death?" he asked.
end he was one of them.
"'Are you sure that he is dead?"
asked M. Nurvetchky.
"Quite sure." The hand with
which the Colonel smoothed his
moustache seemed to tremble. "I
know death when I see it. Good
Clod, what an awful thing! To
think that • his love for ha.nkey-pan-
*key should have brought hire to
such an end as this!"
Even as he was speaking sorne one
in the audience mounted the gang-
way and came striding on to the
stage. It was the clerical gentle-
man. He seemed half beside him-
self with excitement. His voice was
rendered hoarse by the force of his
emotion.
"There has been murder done.
That man has killed him!" He
pointed an accusatory finger at Mr.
Iloolcham. "But you have shared
in, the deed!" He turned on M. Nur-
vetchky. "And that painted wo-
man!" Then he turned on M.
Nurvetchky's wife. "Let the police
be set for! As I live 1 will see
justice done!"
M. Nurvetchky straightened hifra.
self very quietly, and looked at
him. "Are you a madman, sir?"
"You scoundrel, to dare to ask me
such a questima, with your victim:8
soul still fluttering at the gates of
God! Is there a man here who,
having witnessed suelt a deed, can
refuse to pall on the avenger . of
bl.00d?"
:Hislanguage, if his meaning Was
a little confused, was sufficiently
'violent. Indeed, .Iie seemed exceed-
ingly ill at eese.
"I--/ think / saw the old geratle-
man attacking him. Indeed, I—I'm
sure 1 did. AS a matter of fact,
I'm prepared to take my oath that
I did, In, any place, at any time,"
enid the rubicund gentlernan. 44*
But the clerical,gentleman was not
to have his own way entirely—and
double. I was on the stage, sir, and
I saw nothing of any crime."
"-Thu say that? And was not
this dead man your friend?"
"Well, sir, and what the devil has
that to do with it if he was?".
"You swear! With your grey
hairs! In the presence of the dead?
Oh, you are all the same! Sena for
the police!"
This swannery metered. of- putting
him out of court did not exactly
please' the Colonel -- perhaps the
allusion to his grey hairs, for there
was not a younger man of sixty-
three in town, touched him, too. He
looked as though he was about to
use some very strong language in-
deed. But Madame Nurvetchky took
him by the hand.
"The man is mad," she said. "But
do not let us couten.d in the presence
of the dead."
The lady's opinion of the clerical
soon it seerned as though all the
people in the hall had been taken in-
to custody. The two first comers
went stamping on to •tie stage with
the .irt',odox policeman's stamp, as
thorigh they were Shod with lead.
"What isthe matter here?"
-inquired policeman No. I.
"Matter! Crime! Black crime!
Murder is the matter here."
The policeman did not seem to be
, "There is at reaSt one iMan who
dares to speak out and do the right.
'Is 'there but one? Oh, my friends,
look upon this man, whom v.!re all
taw but a moment back inetin.eV
with the breath of lifea.and who now
die
"That scan» killed him."
The clerical gentleman pointed out
to Mr. Hoolcham. Mr. Hookham,
apparently fairly roused at last,
staggered to his feet.
"It is false! It is a lie!" he
gasped.
"And tine man and woman were,
his accomplices," continued the cler-
ical gentleman, turning to M. and
Madame Nurvetchky, heedless- of
Mr. Hookha.m's denial.
"That also is false," said M. Nur-
vetchky quietly.
"It is not false, it is the truth —
I am prepared to swear to it in any
court in England."
This from the rubicund gentleman
in the auditofium.
"You bear? There ise one wit-
ness's testimony. If it is necessary
you should insistupon the testimony
of every person here."
"Do you charge this man wiCk
murder?" *in
The policeman pointed to Mr.
Hookham.
"T do."
"And this man and woman, too?"
The polieemari pointed to M. Nur-
vetchky and his wire.
"I charge that man and woman
with being his accomplices."
At this point an inspector, who
had been standing at the door ob-
serving the scene, unnoticed by
those upon. the stage, came up the
gangway,
"You are my prisoner." He spoke
to Mr, Hookhara. "And you, sir,
and madame, too." This to M. and
Madame Nurvetchky. "If you 'Will
glee me your word that you -Will go
quietly to the station, 1 will see
that you are treated with all pos-
sible eotirteey."
lenreetchIcy slipped his wife's
arm tlirough his, Ile faced the in-
spector With a smile.
"For iny \vife and for naySeIf,
give you my word that we will go
ae eprietly as yott please. The Man
is a, madrean, His Charge is a pee-'
pOetroue 61.10.".
"As to that 1 knelt iiothlng 1 can
11.11..rt
°ply, hope, for your own sake, that
what you say is true. What is that
yt,Itlinecoti
veopictikecdnyulaptsad
there?" to
Mr,
goolthara.
"My diamond."
"Give it to me,"
Mr. Hookhava gave. it to hini, with
Soreething almost approaohing a grin
something almost approttehing a
grim ensile about his lips.
"It was that which killed that
;non, not I."
"This?" . The inspector looked at
the diamond', then at lir, • neekkatila
then at. the diainond ,agarn.
Colonel Dewsnap advanced esith
his card case in his hand.
"MY name is Colonel DewseaP:
there is iny card, Inspector. .The
dead mon, Mr. Percy Leicester; ' was'.
my friend. But though he Was nw
friend, I believe what Mr. Hookhant
says is true — that diamond
killer] hira, not the and of any liv-
ing man."
The inspector, with- the diamcind
in one hand and the card in the oth-
er,. looked the 'Colonel steadily in
the face.
I"I don't -understand you. The
diamond killed the man? How did
it do that?"
"It is some cursed magic stone,
endowed with all the powers of
hell." .
Tee inspector smiled.
"I see. It's like that? Well, Col-
onel Dewsnap,. you will have an op-
portenity to say what you you have
to say elsewhere,"
Then Mr. Schwabe advanced. .
:`Inspector, here is my card. My
name is Schwabe. •I am a diamond
merchant. I can endorse what Col-
onel De.wsnap has said—it was the
diamond killed the man.",
"But I den't understand you. How
do you allege that it did that?"
"It strangled' him. ).'"
"Strangled him? — this stone?"
"I am not acteally prepared t�
swear that it strangled him."
"No, I should imagine you were
not."
"But by whatever means that man
met his death, it was througn the
agency of that stone."
"Well, gentlemen, you will be af-
forded an opportunity to give your
evidence elsewhere. In the. mean-
time I must see that tbe iffisoners
are -removed." •
The inspector turned to give in-
structions to the constables. Ac he
was engaged in doing so, Mr. Hook -
Iain spoke to him.
"I think yrer had better give me
that diamond."
"I think differently. It will be
quite safe with me."
• "It is for your own sake I make
the suggestion, not mine." •
"I am obliged by raur solicitude,
but I can take care of myself.
have no fear of its strangling me."
But no sooner were the words out
of his month than he gave vent to
I
an ejaculation 'which was very like
aii smith, sprang right off his feet,
raised his arm, and flung the dia-
mond with violence to the ground.
."Who' did that?" he demanded, u9t
by any means. in` an official:tone of
voice.
An innocent constable, wbo "stood.
just 'behind him, meeting the full
fury of his eyeatook the question as
being specially addressed to Wm.
"Did what, sir? — Never moved a
finger, sir!"
The inspector stretched out his
arm in front of him and stared at
the open palm — stared as though
be cbuld scarcely believe his eyes.
"Well — I'm he was certain-
ly going to say "damned," but his
!sense of official propriety came to
his rescue in the very nickaof time,
and lie said ',hanged" instead.
Seeing the inspector continuing
to gaze so intently at his hand, one
or two of the constable crowded
round him and even Colonel Dew -
snap and ifr. Schwabe joined in the
stare. It was undoubtedly nibst an-
noying. There, in letters an inch
in length — the inspeotor had a
good broad hand — was branded,
right in the center of the palm, with
exasperating dietinctness, the one
word—
"Pool!" •
Mr. Schwabe, when he 'saw it,
smiled; but the inspector did not
seem at all to be in a humorous
frame of mind.
"liurned year, bas it!? You'should
have acted on. Mr. Hookham's sug-
gestion, and made him responsible
for the safe custody of the stone. I
wouldn't touch it for a thousand
pounds."
"But it must have been red hot."
"That's nothing, , my good sir.
If you care to ;tier a few more ex-
periments with the . stone you will
soon come to understand how it kill-
ed that man. Ho tried experiments
with it, till he tried one too many."
Mr. Schwabe pointed at the figure,
_which lay in significant, silence at
their feet. The inspector turned to
Mr. Ilookham.
"Pick up that thieg!"
Mr. Hookhana picked up the
"thing" — by Which terrn the still
irate inspector alluded to the dia-
..
421V -;:t still hot?" -It is quite cool to me. But per-
haps you would like to feel it for
yourself?"
"Mind, I hold you responsible for
the safe Custody of that stone, if it
Is a stone!" — here the inspector
positively snarled — "and shall re-
quire yeti to produce it for purposes
Of evidence in this ease whenever
required." a •
Mr. Hookhain Said nothing; but he
slipped the diamond into his waist-
coat pocket.
(To Be Continued).
i
le To prose to you that De
1 Firelttrentiaic6rtiiesocurofor each
and every form of itching,
bleeding and protruding piles,
tho manufacturers have guaranteed it: Soo tes-
timonials in the daily press and ask gear neleta
bore what they thiek ea, Yeti can uso it and
get your 'money beak if not cured. 60o a box, ali
all doalors or lintliatsoil,B rate Ss co.,Terenta
Dr,Chase's Ointment
086,000 acres of Linebiriehire, Eng -
lend, is land teelaimed feora the 8ea:
Any' first-c1as8 jeweler Can supply
Stepping atones to matrimony.
R F.
FO ARMILIRS :
4.= Seasonable and Prafitable
hints for the letisy 'Melt
)i of the Soil,
kr:
****4**iii,eitC.4+04K-seili•silf.****
KINDNESS IN STOCK RAISING-.
A quick tempered map, is, zieVer
successful, stockman, and no ruernais
• lidgety, nervous man No one can
handle stock and get the best out
of them who is not in the Confidence
of the animals. There is not an
antinal on the farm • that is not
Worth a greater cash value if its
owner can be oa teems to be al-
ways given ft welcome whenever he
may go near it. Timid, frightened,
nervous creatui-es are rarely profit-
able to. keep. They are invariably
poor although they may consume
more feed than it will -require .to
keep a gentle and contented animal.
Man is not the only animal that
Worry conshmes, says B. P. Wagn,er.
We road meth about tho value of
kind treatment to the .dairy cow.
This is well understood, and it is
.one of the, rules set down to ,De fol-
lowed by the employees of every suc-
cessful dairyman. The rule is just
as importaat with the farmer with
only three or four mulch cows. Re
cannot get the best results from a -
cow she is capable of giving if he
must drive, her into ,the corner of
the yard,t tie her to a fence and
pound her, into submission with the
milk stool before every milking-. If
the cow is excitable and nervous, it
is certabilar a poo e way to gain her
confidence by. yelling, swearing at
and pounding her. 'Yet this IS the
wayanany farmers break their cows.
If she has been treated: 'kindle's by
.beedavnee.from the clay other. birth,
and•has Learned to expect only kind-
ness from `him, she will readily ac-
quiesce to his wishes, and the break-
ing pracess be.. an easy job. But
from her calfhood she may have had
overar reason to fear her owner. He
taught her the process of gulping
milk instead of taking it
AS NATURE INTENDED.
She was dragged away from her
mother by no gentle hand,. and al-
lowed to bawl for half a day to get
hungry. Then a. bucket of warm
milk was brought to her, which
nearly made her forget the "dread-
ful being" who brought It. But she
quickly forgot the milk when the
"-being" caught her by the ears arid
jammed her head into the milk up
to her eyes .and held it there ,till
she choked,strangled and struggled
looso. She got no milk, however,
that feed, but before her "patient
and considerate" owner went away
she got sundry kicks and blows. Of
course, she grew' up a runt. Any-
thing Mit runty, screbby stock
would s2em , but of place on this
man's farm.
It would bea.next to an imposeibil-
ity, for him to raise 'horses, colt
under his care would be ruined be-
fore it was old enough for breaadng.
12 not then, it most certainly would,
should he attempt to break it. -Of
course, he has horses, but they are
of the old, worn-out type. The new
animals he buys may be in good
condition, but be soon takes that
out of thelif: An intelligent animal
soon learns Mg driver's Ways and
knows what is expected of him; but
this man's horses,- when he hippens
to be out of sorts, are jerked, yelled
at and beaten 'until the ,spirit is out
of theln and they become but old
Plugs. Such teams cannot accom-
plish half the work well -cared for
and kindly treated horses will do.
The man whose hogs receive noth-
ing but kicks and blows will never
succeed in the swine raisin business.
The man who is not on the best of
terms with his sowssavill lose many
litters of pigs, if not the sows them-
selves, that he might have saved.had
the animals not been afraid of *him.
And if she distritsts him it will
bring out all the viciousness of her
nature whenever he comes near to
feed or care for her, and in her
trampling and worrying some of the
little felleavs 'will be sera to get.
hurt. Sows with pigs too young to
get out of the way should be kept
as quiet an possible. This can never
be if she fears or distrusts her at-
tendants.'
sheep will. never do well unless
kindly treated. They are the most
timid of farm animals and will suf-
f,er.most if attended by one whom
they
FEAR OR DISTRUST.
In fact, sl a important is the neces-
sity of being on friendly terms with
the flock that any farmer who is
not,and whose temper is Such that he
cannot get on friendly i terms with
then!, had better sell out. life will
never succeed in sheep raising. If,
as all (look owners know, it is of
importance to keep dogs and such
\rorrying and scaring animals away
from the flock, how much more so it
is that the one they must leok to
for care and protection should not
be an object of fear and armoyance
to theta. The dog on the farm can
be an- intolerable nuisance or the
most valued assistant of the farmer,
and trained with patience it de-
pends upon the farmer himself which
it Shall be. A our should not be
kept on any farm, but if a young
dog is taken hy the farmer and
trained with patience and kindness,
it will become of inestimable worth.
It is better by far to shoot a dog
than ill-treat him,
..Fattening animals should be al-
ways kept as quiet as possible, arid
in to way frightened or excited, The
Wan who can pass aziong his ani -
Male and be followed about by
there, �r who is 'able to go up and
pat one of them, Will generally be
• sudeessful feeder. His kindn.oss rto
his stocic saves Iced ana adds rditAy
dollarto the income from his
business as' a feeder.
Kindnese to animals may not be
natural to some men. Thete is more
or less of the tyrant in most ition's
natures, and unless It le held in
eheck it Will show itself with the
creatures -ender his authority,. and,
like Many bad habits, it grows and,
develops. But the same may be
said of kindness to animals. This
habit may be enquired as Vika', and
it will pay any farmer to cultivate.
Unless patience and kindness are
given stock, no man has tho right
te be m,a.ster of it.
' COOICING FOOD.
Every fawner that wishes to Pare
for. his anitnals in the best way
should .have utensils for the heating
of water and cooking feed for stock.
By this we alb not mean to say that
it will pay to cook all itinds ofjeed
or -any one kind for all purpeses, but
there are many times 'end cenditions.
when such apparatus can be used.
We ctbk food -fel. human beings for
several reasons. One of these ob-
-jects is to kill disease germs in the
food. Cooking- food for animals has
a tendency in the same direction, It
costs something for fuel -but this
cost is very largely offset by the
benefits derived from conveying heat
to the aninial bodies, and thus sav-
ing the expense of carbonaceous
materials, It is cheaper to provide
heat from coal or wood than make it
•out of tho tissues of the animal.
body. The comfort of the animals
in the coldest days of winter -is
greatly increased by the warming of
the drinking water and. the cooking
of part a the food has conimercial
value to us. It has somothieg to
-do with thriftiness of the e feed.
The comfort of our farm is in the
stock, and. this. increases the possi-
bilities of profitable .feeding One
of thegreat advantages in the cook-
ing-offeed for stock is in being able
to use for. feed' some classes -of farm
prodects. that could not otherwise
boa so, used.. Seine.. fernaers -find • it
advitable to cook their pp-tn.-toes for
stock, mixing themwith meal and
ground Oats. The boiling of sugar
beets for dairy cows precipitates the
bitter principle that sometimes af-
fects the milk. Too often the argu-
ment for and against the cooking of
food for stock has be'eri . based on
the increased or , decreased digesti-
bility of the feed, and it has • been
asserted that the increased ,digesti-
bility does not pay the cost of cook-
ing. TO some extent that is true,*
especially with certaiu classes of
feed, but there are other advantages
to be gained that certainly do make
it advisable to cook some of the
feed during a considerable part of
the year.
TENDING. A YOUNG ORCHARD.
In some localities where the soil
is too poor to raise these crops with
profit it may be the most economi-
cal in cultivation to use 'a disk har-
row. Where field crops can be grown
it is best to plant only such crops
as can be cultivated, except the cow
pea, which May be drilled in and
harvested without cultivation, writes
Mr M. Dunlap.
To pow 'Oats, wheat or other small
grain' in It young orchard and let
the 'Same grow to maturityand har-
vest the same is to invite disaster
to your trees. They ma.y not "sure-
ly die," but you will, in nine cases
out of ten, have cause to regret
your action. You have seen the ef-
fect on young clover of the removal
of the 'grain in midsummer, an.d you
'may be sure the effect is the same
in a modified degree on the young Though he
tree. Keep the weeds away
from Don't lose
around the trees by pulling or with
the hoe, but leave the- soil loose on '
the top and do not scrape the loose
soil ofT, aa•I have often seen done,
leaving a hard surface to dry out
what moisture there may be.
Cultivation should begin in the
spring and continue' as late into the
summer as the planted crop will per-
mit. It AVill be best, where the crop.
is not cross -plowed, to lia-ve a space
of four feet on each side of the row
or -trees for the later cultivation of
the treerow with a five -tooth or
other one-horse cultivator. The cid-
tivation should then be kept up un-
til August 1.
I am an advocate •• of Moderate
pruning of the tree, and after shap-
ing thd• tree as I would have it at
Planting, I would- remOve only each
branches afterward as interfere or
that 'should* be removed for other
good CanSe. If some branches grow
unduly they may be clipped off to
keep the tree symmetrical.
THE LOST AERONAUT,
Brother Seeks to Have 1ma De-
* dared. Legally Dead.
On the summer day nearly five
years ago when. S. A, Andree, the
Arctic aeronsait, ascended from the
north coast of Spitzbergen. at Ad-
vent Bay and was soon lost to sight
forever, he drew lip his will. Three
minutes before he stepped into the
Oar and theoballoon rose in the air
he signed the document
The will declared • that he left all'
his property to his brother, Capt.
Ernest Wilbelin. Andree, of the Swed-
ish army. It added that his bro-
ther would devote a part of the es-
tate to specific' purposes which he
had indicated to -Capt.' Andree by,
word of meuth. The will, was then
taken to Sweden and delivered into
his brother's hand*. . '
Before the estate of a deceased per-
son can, be settled in Sweden it is
necessary that his death shall be
officially declared and on record.. in
the'Government offices. There is an
(Alava record with regard to Andree
in the Government Offices at Stock-
holm, but it does net declare that
he is dead. It says only that he is
missing arid that bis whereabouts
are unknown.
Capt. Arldree has now applied to
the G-overnment to declare the lost
explorer dead and thus enable him
legally to come into possession of
the small property which his bro-
ther left to him, In his petit -lint he
says that no one now entertains the
slightest hope that his brother may
be' among the living. All experts in
Arctic matters, all sailors Who fre-
quent Arctic waters, ate unanimous-
ly of the opinion -that there is net
the -slightest ground for believing
that Andrea and- his comrades escap-
ed- death.
. --
It is expetted that hie' petition
will -be granted and. that the- death
of ndrea will'he officially declared
•in the Govan -anent offices. Until
the present time none of Andree's
family nor any Scandinavian Arctic
explorers had admitted that he had
given 1111 hope that the explorer
would yet be found alive. It is
probable that for years Ms relatives
have really believed him dead; but
they were not willing to admit that
the last hope had expired.
Nowa'however, his own family are
openly of the opinion that the world
generally has expressed for the last
three years. It is not believed that
the ill-fated party were alive many
days after it rose into the air from
Spitzbergen. It is possible even yet
that relics may be found which will
give some clue to the exact nature
of the disaster that befell the three
men and approximately - locate the
regioii where it occurred.
WHAT NOT q,No LOSE.:
Don't lose courage; spirit brave
Carry with you to the grave:
Don't lose time in vain distress;
Work, not worry, brings success.
Don't lose' hone; who lets her stray
Goes forlornly. all the way.
Don't lose patience, come what will;
Patience ofttimes outruns skill.
Don't lot° gladness; every hour
Blooms for you some happy flower.
foiled your dearest plan,
faith in God and man.
. Genius consists in making the oth-
er fellow do the work.
4
VOLCANO BENEATH PARIS. '
From sulphur mines to volcanos is
a natural graduation. A short time
ago M. Stanislas Meunier, the great
scientist, analyzed the soil thrown
up from beneath the nice de la Re-
publique, Paris, • where they aro
piercing the Metropolitan, and had
found considerable' deposits of sul-
phur. Now, according' to the Fi-
garo, he goes and tells the Academie
des Sciences that it is really and
truly, a budding volcano that x'uns
underneath not only the Place de la
Republique, but, else the Boulevard
St. Martin. The volcano is in a
quiescent stage at 'present ; in fact,
it is described as inoffensive. It is
only the papers that inention Mont
Pelee and St. Vincent in the same
breath, while the Eclair follows the
announcement of the volcano beneath
the boulevards with the grateful and
comforting intelligence that Vesu-
vius is in eruption, and is throwing
stones.
st
of
ains •
r ,Agtitis
The dry, tight cough, the soreness aggravated lay
coughing, all disappear with the use of Dr.
Chase's Syrup of Linseed -and Turpentine.
It is the tendency -of every cold
to develop into bronchitis, consump-
tion or some 'form of lung -trouble.
I3ronchitis is most dreaded, because
Lt has a tendency to become chronic
and return again and again, until
the patient becomes worn out or
falls an easy prey to consumption or
pneunsonia. Only the Most robust
tonstitution.can throw off nronchitis.
Aged people, Children, and all who
ars. in delicate health or have weak
lungs have every reason to fear this
ailment,
If the 'cough is dry and hard ; if
there is pain, Soreness or tightness
in the chest ; if breathing is dilfieult
and Causes pain in the chest, yeti
have every treason to suppose that
you have bronchitis, and should
promptly begiu the use 'of Dr.
Chase's Syrup of Lingded and Tur-
pentine.
Gough mixtures that may help an
ordinary cold have to effect on bron-
chitis mid asthma, but Ir • Cliatas'e
Syrup of Linseed and Turpentine has
won its enviable reputatioe oil ac-
count of its winiderful streeese
curing these aflmta t is far
more than a mere cough medicine,
and acts on the whole' ystem, thor-
oughly eradicating disease.
Mr. John Clark, coachman, Port
Unix, Ont., states :—"Being exposed
to all sorts of weather I frequently
catch cold. Last winter I was so
bad with a cold that I could not
speak above a whisper and had
great pains in the chest. At last I
feared 'it would develop into (ton-
sumption if I did not succeed in get-
ting proper treatment.
"A friend advised me to use Dr.
Chase's Syrup of Linseed and Tur-
pentine and 1 begati to improve be-
fore I had ta.kea half a bottle. One
bottle cured my cold, which X believe
Would hav.e pronen very serious if
had not used this medicine."
it is necessaxy for you to be care-
ful when buying Dr, Chase's Syrup
of Linseed and Turpentine, foe there
are many substitutes and imitations
offered, The portrait and signature
of Dr. A. W. Chase are on every bot-
tle of the genuine, /5 cents a bottle,
famtly size (thede -Waxes as Muth) 60
cents., At all. dealers,' or Editanson,
Bates ds Co, 'termite/1
ROBB OF MO
NEN PoRcEp
SELVES
TO XatICE THE-117.-
RIDI0UL0US.
Young Society
pear 4$ a
er in
,
I'ran Had to Ape
Bareback Bial-
a Circus.
Financial reMedies are not alwaYS
seilicient for the injured. affections of
young - :women to whoin fond lovers
have .proposed and froxn whom they
afterwards desire release imsteard of
matrimony. Frequently it is the
case that the young woman feels an
indignity has been put upon her
which can be removed only by the
young scan making a public spectacle
of himself.
It will be admitted that cases are
More numerous where the youngwo-
nia,n has been content to peeve a
man. has been content to prove to txr
jury that her affections have been
damaged to the extent of a certain
number of thousands. The excep-
tions, however, aro enough to show:
a *peculiar desire for unique revenge
on the part of many.
There is the case of the young
New Yorkee„ who proposed to a cir-
cus rider and wee accepted by her.
Possibly her daring flights in short
skirts attracted him for the mo-
ment, and that on more sober
thought the attra8tion waned. It
had led him into the difficulty, hoes -
ever, and he had to get out the -best
way he could.
As a. public exposure of his love
affair was the -last thing he desired,
he had his attorneys make the young
woman a substantial offer in settle-
ment, and secure his release Jill's.
It was not adequate. The young
woman • wanted. more — not More
raoney, but more in the -way Of rep: -
oration. She demanded . that be
supplement his financial offer .1sY ape
peering one night as a bareback•rid-
er •in the ring with her., •
There° was nothing for the young
maii to do but agree. He was an
athlete a.nd export rider. With
much preliminary practice he man-
aged to become Elufficiently expert to
bring Ms first end only appearance
on bareback to a successful ending,
and the young woman pocketed the
inoney entirely eatisfled.
HAD TO TURN MINSTREL. ,
Another case in illustration it that
of the young Minneapolis physician.
who had proposed to a waitress aL
a lakeside watering resort. After
he had been accepted he reconsider-
ed. His social position made the af-
fair quite impossible, as he saw it.
in second thought. The waitress,
however, declined the Antmcial rem-.
edy unless something more accom-
panied it. she felt that she . had.
benn humiliated and that he should
undergo some displeasing personaL
e!aperience before the matter would
be entirely squared. She demanded
that he appear for a week as a -ne-
gro minstrel arid entertain the folks.
at the resort.
As there was no other way out of
it without a full airing of the matter
in court he accepted. Be told Ms.
friends tanit he was tieing it on a bet.
She promptly gave the real reason.
fer his black face performances, and
he found that the proceedings were.
about as full of woo as a public
hearing of the ease in Court would -
have been. •
FORCED To ENLIST IN ARMY.
An officer in. the English army owe,s
his commission to an affair of tide.
sort. He proposed rashly and re-
pented. In this case the father on
the young woman took the matter
in hand. Ho threatened proceedings
at law, to which threats- the young
man replied that he was a clerk, on
a small salary and that he would be
unable to pay a judgment, however
small. After awhile the irate par-
ent consented to forego his intent,
but only on the condition that the
young scan should enlist. This the.
clerk agreed to do, anti, being tt fel-
low with brains and shrewdness, ho•
worked himself up from the ranks
and has received his commission re-
.c.°ntt.]Yh
Ias not been. long ago that a
middle-aged gentleman surprised a -
gathering at an animal show by en-
tering the lion's cage and drinking a
bottle of wine there while tbe beast
eyed him with suspicion and disap-
proval. His friends thought he was -
paying a rash and foolish bet or
carrying out a' dangerous. dare.
When the truth was discovered
'
was found that he had rashly bo-
w/no engaged to a restaurant keep-
er's daughter and had wished
break the engagement. Tbe girl
consented to release him only on.
condition that he accomplish the.
fed% which had caused the wonder of
his friends,.
MARRIED GIRL'S MOTHER.
Not long ago an English curate -
surprised his parislifeners by marry-
ing a widow considerably older thasa
himself. The astonishment was still
greater *hen the cause was known..
The curate had become engaged to
a young girl whose frivolous con-
duct sobn led him to regret the step.
He offered a Settlernellt for his re-
lease, but it was refused. He on-
deavered in every way to break the
but .avithout success.
"Is there nothing I can do to es-
cape this?" he exclairaed one day in
esPaeisr;
• "Y" remarked the•giel's mother,
who was present, and who had been
the prime mover in the marriage ne-
gotiations, "by marrying inc."
The curate decided that if he lia.d
to marry ono oi the two he prelerred
the mother and accepted her. The
young girl_soon .÷_rnarri_ed a wealthy
stock broker.
"Are you afraid to go downstairs
and look for that man who is ran-
sacking the house?" apked Mr. Meek -
ton's wife, "Certainly not. I am
perfectly Willing to go and. look ' for
him, But, Henrietta, 1'1i: afraid
you have been making a mistake
with me all these years. You ought
to have develoPed niy conversa-
tional powers more. After 4/ find
the burglar I won't know what to
say in him, You'll liaise to eaand
talltuihehad of
t;ing.„ethe stare and do
Plo
i,,