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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1908-9-3, Page 7r:. f+KE+ E+kf+g4tA+ (+):(0+A Xf+AS- +A+3:f+9C40+1G4f#+00:4 3 A House of Mystery OR, THE GIRL IN BLUE' iCf+3?:+ f f+YN.f-4 f+1:f 43a+3 +0;$ -4-A47 + +1(+gf+1:4);f+3 +gE CHAPTER 'XXII.—(Cont' d). The day was brilliant, It was duly in Devonshire, that fairest of all counties -and July there is al- ways a superb mouth. The air, •warm and balmy, was Mon with a •soeut of roses and honeysuckle; and the only 'sounds that broke the quint were the songs of the birds and the soft rustling of the trees. I sat there trying to decide how to act, For the first time it ooeiirrod to me that my position was one of a certain peril, for if I did not act with tact and caution, that woman who called herself my wife, aided by that idiot Britten. might -de- clare that I was mad, and cause me to be placed beneath restraint. Therefore, to gain my freedom, it s evidently necessary that I should act with discretion and keep my own counsel." I looked around upon the fair panorama of nature spread before me. The world was six years old- er than when I had known it. What national events had, I wondered, happened in that time? Place your- self in my position, and picture to yourself the feeling of bewilderment that overcame me when I reflected upon what might or might not have transpired. There crept over me a longing to escape from that place, the habita- tion of that awful woman with the powdered cheeks, and to return to London. All my life and pleasure had been centered in the giant ca pita,, and to it I intended now to go back and seek,if possible, the broken thread of my history, which "might lead me to an elucidation of the marvellous mystery, The world around me, the .cahn blue sea, the cloudless sky, the green grass -lands, the soft whisper- ing'of the foliage seemed so peaee- ful that I could scarce believe that so much evil, 'so much of human malice, could exist. The tranquil ita of my surroundings induced within me a quieter frame of mind, and I set to planning carefully how I might escape and return to Lon- don. To endeavor so to do openly would, I saw, be to draw upon mo the spies of my hideous wife. Was 7 not believed by all to be insane? Then certainly I should not be al- lowed to go at large without some tele at my side. I wanted to be alone. The pres- ence of a second person entertain- ing suspicions asto my sanity would seriously hamper mo, and prevent me prosecuting the inquir- ies I intended to institute regard- ing my past. No. To escape sue- eessfully I. should be compelled to. Ry to London, and once there alter niy appearance and assume another name, Search would undoubtedly made for me, but once in Lon fon I felt confident in being able to foil any efforts of my wife's agents. Therefore I sat upon the stile and calmly matured my plans. The chirping of a clock, appar- ently in the turret upon .,my own stables at Denbury, fell upon my ears, It struck one. Then the. sharp ringing of a boll—the lunch- •eon-bell—followed. .Gedge had told me that the place .was near Budleigh Salterton. Was it near enough, I wondered, forme to walk there, and was there a sta- tion? There might, I reflected, be e map in the library. I would be rbompelled to trace it out and seek my route, for I was absolutely :g- ' norant of that corner of 'Devon- shire. Yes, my best policy, I decided, was to return to the house, act as indifferently as possible, and rn2anwhile complete my plans for escape. I retraced my steps to the house the path I had traversed, and the lawn was met by the man who announced— 'The luncheon -bell . has rung, r. I hope you fool a little bet- ter, sir. "Oh, much better," I answered airily, and with an effort at self- possession followed lure into the imitation old -oak • 'dining -room, which Gedge had shown me during our tour of the place, The woman . with theowdered cheeks was alreadyseated at the head of the table, erect and stately, with an expression of • hauteur which ill became her. "I hope you feel better after your walkshe said, as I seated myself. "Oh, much better, I responded in to tone of irony. "The pain has practically passed." "You should really rest," she said, in that squeaky, artificial tone which so jarred upon my nerves, "Do take the doctor's ad- vice." It was ori the tip of. my tongue to make a further unwritoable re- mark regarding the doctor, but I managed to control myself and re- elyt . 3 es, I think after lune" .un f shall lie clown for a little time, 1 have, however, some pressing let- ters to write first." "Let Gedge attend to your eo raspondenee for to -day," she erg - ea, with that mock juvenility which rendered her so hideously ridicu- lous, "No," I responded. "I have, unfortunately, ,to attend to several pressing matters personally. Af- terwards I will rest." "No, there's a dear," she said. I bit my hp. She nauseated me when she used thataffectionate term. The only woman I loved was Mabel Anson, but whether she were still alive, or whether mar- ried, I knew not, The very thought that I was bound in.matrimonyeto this woman sitting in the high- backed chair of carved oak was dis- gusting. is- gusting. I loathed her. How I continued to eat the dish- es Gill handed me I know not, nor do I remember what conversation passed between my pseudo wife and myself as we sat there. Many were the abrupt and painful silences which fell between us. Shestruck me as • an ascetic, strong-minded woman, who, before others, fawned upon me with an af- fected devotion which in one of her age was ludicrous; yet when we were alone sho was rigid and over- bearing, with the positive air ofono who believed me far beneath her. alike in social station and in intel- lect. When Gill was absent sho spoke in a hard, patronizing tone, which so angered me. that with great difficulty'I retained my temper Yet it was my policy, I knew, to conceal my thoughts, and to lead her to believe that the words -I had uttered, and my failure to recognize ber, were owing to the blow I asci-. dentally received, and that I was now, just as I had been before, her husband. What a hollow share that meal was 1 Now thab I think of it I can- not refrainfrom smiling at my ex- traordinary position, and how I showed her delioate attention in order to the more impress her of my solicitude for her welfare. When at last she rose it was with a hope that I would go to my room and rest. I seized that opportunity. "I shall," I answered. "But don't let them call me for dinner. f will have something when I wake. Britten has ordered perfect quiet." "Very well," she answered. Then turning to Gill, she said, "You hear. Mr. Heaton is not tobe aroused at dinner." "Yes, madam," answered the man, bowing as we both paased out. At once I walked along to the lib- rary, shut the door, and leaked it. I had much to do toprepare for my flight. Yes, as I had expected, there was an ordinance map of the Teign- mouth district tacked to the wall; and searching, I quickly found Denbury marked upon it, standing en the Exmouth road over the High Land, or Orcombe, half way be- tween that place and Budleigh - Salterton. The South -Western. Railway ran, I saw, from Exmouth to London, by way of Exeter, and my first impulse was to walk into Exmouth, and' take train thence. The fact that I was probably known at that station occurred to mo, therefore I made up my mind to avoid the terminus and join the brain at Lympaton, a small station further towarcls Exeter,' Taking up my pen. I made a rough sketch -plan of ruy ' route, which passed hittleham church, then by the left-hand road struck across country, crossing the high road to Exmouth ab angles, right g g , con tinn- ing through the village of Withy- Combe Raleigh, and keeping straight on until it joined the main road to Exeter. _At the commence- ment of the village of Lyrnpston it was necessary, I saw, to turn sharp to the left, area 'at the end of the road I should find the station, close to the rider Exe. Inorder to avoid mistaking the road and entering the town of Ex- mouth, I made a full and careful plan, which, when completed, I placed in my pocket. The distance, I calculated roughly, was between five and six miles over a road ra- ther difficult to find without a map. Among the hooks on the table I found a Bradshaw, with the page of local trains turned down, and from it learned that a train with connection from London stopped at L,ynzpston ab 7.55 P.m., while the train in counection with the Up - mail. front Exeter stopped there at 8.20. The latter 1 ,locided upon taking. The fact that I had expressed my desire to sleep would prevent Gill corning In call pre ab the dinner. hoer and lry the time I was missed I should be well oe my way to,ton- dots The gi•r,.nen of tit 0Yray occurred trel, T had not: cod 801110 lease. gold and a oouple of five -pound notes in one of the drawers wine!) Gedge had opened, and having a duplicate set of keys izz my pocket, I trantfeered the " Whale—a little under twelve pounds -.-to my pocket. Then I took out my oheque•book, It was too large to be carried in my pocket. therefore X tore out a oouple of dozen or so, folded them, and placed them in an envelope, recognized that I could draw money with them, yet the bank need not know my whereabouts, If these people, who would, I suppose, call themselves "my friends," made ao• rive search to find the fugitive "madman," they would certainly ebtath no clue from my bankers. In the same drawer as the cheque- book I found a black leather port- folio, securely lacked. The latter fact impressed me. Everything else was open to my secretary, who possessed keys, both to writing -table and safe, But this was locked, apparently because therein were ordained certain pri- vate papers that I had wished to keep from his eyes. No man, .whoever he may be, re- poses absolute confidence in his secretary, Every one bas . some personal matter, the existence of which.he desires to preserve secret to himself alone. I drew forth the looked portfo- lio, and planed it upon the blotting. pad before me. 'It was an expan- sive wallet, of a kind such as I re- membered having seeil(aoarriedby bankers' clerks in the City from bank to bank, attached by chains to the belts around their waists, Surely upon my ring I must pos- sess a key to it. I looked, and found a small braes key. It fitted, and a moment later I had unlocked the wallet and spread my own private papers before me. What secrets of my lost life, I wondered, might not these careful - 1,' preserved letters and documents contain 7 In eager, anxious wonder I turn- ed them over. Next instant a cry of dismay broke involuntarily from my lips, as within trembling fingers I held one of. those papers- -a letter addressed to me. I could scarce believe my own eyes as I read it. Yet the truth was plain—hideously plain. CHAPTER XXIII. Reader, I must take you still fur- ther into my confidence. What you have already read is strange, but certain things which subse- quently happened to me were even still stranger. I held that astounding letter in my hand. My eyes were riveted up- on it. The words written there were puzzling indeed. -A dozen times I read them through,; agape with wonder. Tho communication, upon the notepaper of the Bath' Hotel at Bournemouth, was datedJune4th, 1891—five years before—and ran as follows "Dear Mr. Heaton, I very much regret that you should have thusmisunderstood me. I thought when eve met at Windermereyou were quite of my opinion. You, however, appear to have grown tired after . the five months of our engagement, and your 'love for me has suddenly 000led; therefore oar paths in life must in future lie far apart. You have at least told me the truth hon- estly and straightforwardly. I, rf course, believed that your de- clarations were true, and that you really loved me truly, but alas! it is evidently not so. I can only suf- fer in silence. Good-bye for ever. We shall never, never meet again. But I tell you, Wilford, that I. bear you no malice, and that my pray- ers will ever be for your welfare and your happiness, Perhaps, She smiled, - 'Ah ! I expect it's sometunes you will give a passing my veil, she said, But it's real - thought to the sorrowful, heart- ly remarkable that you should not broken woman who still loves you. recognize Joliet, your wife's maid." "MABEL ANSON. "You t My wife's niaid 1" I gasp- ed, recognizing in an 'instant how cleverly I had been run to earth. "Yes," slue replied, "Surely you recognize me?" and she raised her veil, displaying a rather unprepos- sessing face, dark and beagle, as though full of some hidden sorrow. I hail never seen the woman be- fore in my life, but instantly I re- solved to display no surprise and act with. caution, "Alt of course!" I said lamely. "The light here is ' so . bad, you know, that I didn't recognize you, And where are you going?" "To Loudon—to the dressuzak- "Mrs, Beaton has sent you on some commission, I suppose?" "Yes, sir," "You joined this train at Exeter, thee?" "I came from Exmouth to Exe- ter, and changed," she explained. "I saw you get in at Lympston." My heart sank within me, It was evident that this woman had been sent by my self-styled wife to keep, watch upon my movements. If I intended to escape I should be compelled to make terms with her. Those sharp dark eyes, with a curious light in theta ---eyes that seemed strangely staring and vis cant at times --were fixed upon me, wh•le the smile about her thin .lips was clearly one of triumph, as though site had caught me in the not flyrng from my home, j. I reflected, but next moment i•e- scived, to take her into my conk - derma. I disliked her, for her man - nor was somewhat r oenerie, and, ftrrtiier,noro, I had only fuer own fell to wondering whether I had kept any of these :engagements, The most recant. of these letters was dat- ed nearly two years ago. Bob the afternoon was wearing en, therefore I planed the puzzling coanmenioations in my .pocket and ascended to any room in order to that, and thus carry out the feint of attending to old Britten's diree- tions, Tho dressing -hell awakened me, hut, confident in the knowledge that f should remain undisturbed, 1 re- moved the bandages from nay head, bathed the wound, and applied some plaster in the plaoo of the handkerchief, Then, . with my hat on, my injury was concealed, -. The sun wits declining when I managed to slip out of the house unobserved, and set forth down the avenue to Littleham village, The quaint ofd place was delightful in the evening calm,• but, heedless of everything, I hurried forward down the hill to Withyeombe Raleigh, and thence straight across the open country to Lympston station, where 1 took a third-class ticket for Exe- ter. At a wayside station a pas- senger for London is always re- marked, therefore I only booked as far as the junction with the main. line. Ab Exeter I found that the up - mail was not due for ten minutes, therefore I telegraphed to London for a room at the Grand Hotel, and afterwards bought some newspapers with which to while away the jour- ney. ht Sight of newspapers dated six years later than those I had last seen aroused within me a lively curiosity. How incredible it all seemed as in that dimly lit railway, - carriage I sat gathering from those printed pages the history of the lost six years of my life! The only other occupant of the compartment besides myself was a woman. I had sought an empty carriage, but failing to find one, was compelled to accept her as travelling companion. She was youngish, perhaps thirty-five, and neatly dressed, but her face, as far as .I eould distinguish it through her spotted veil, was that of a wo- man melancholy and bowed down "Then you pity me, eh?" by trouble. In her dark hair were "I scarcely Clunk that the word her deep -sunken eyes, peering forth premature threads of silver, rand that ono of my position ought to strangely at me, were the eyes of a woman rendered desperate. I did not like the look of her: In travelling one is quick to entertain an instinctive dislike to one's com- panion, and it was so in my case. .1 found myself regretting that 1 had not entered a smoking -cirri- age. But I soon became absorbed in' my papers and forgot her pre- sence. .. It was only her vgioe, a curious- ly high-pitched one, that made me start. She inquired if I minded her closing the window because of the draught, and I at once closed it, responding rather frigidly, 1 re- lieve. But she was in no humor to, allow the conversation to drop, and com- menced to chat with a familiarity that surprised me, She noticed how puzzled I be- came, and at length remarked with a laugh— "You apparently don't recognize me, Mr. Heaton." "No, madam," I answered, taken aback. "Yon have certainly the advantage of me." This recognition was startling, for was I not flying to London to es- cape my friends? This woman, who- ever she was, would without doubt recount her meeting with nue. "It is really very droll," she laughed. ''I felt sure from tho first, when you entered the compartment, that you didn't know Inc." "I' certainly dou'b know you," I responded coldlie • word that sho was really maid to that angular woman who called herself my wife. Nevertheless; I could do naught else than snake ii bargain with her, 'Now," I said at last, after some desultory conversation, "I want to make iu suggestion to you. Do you think that if I gave you a ten -pound roto you could forget having met mo bo -night? 1)o yen thinly that you could forget having seen pre at all "Forget? I don't understand," "Well, to put it plainly, I'm go- ing to London, and I have no de- sire that anybody should know that I'm there," I explained. "When I am found to be missing from Den - bury, Mrs, Heaton will do all in her power to discover me. You are the only person. who knows that I've gone to London, and I want you to hold your tongue," She smiled again, showing an even row of white teeth. "I was sent by my Mistress to travel by this train and to see where you went," she said blunt- ly, "Exactly as I thought," I an- swered. "Now, you will accept HMI little present, and return to Denbury to -morrow after a fruit- less errand—utterly fruitless, you understand 7" She -took thetensovereigns I handed her, and transferred them to her purse; promising to say no- thing of having met me. I gathered from her subsequent conversation that she had been maid to Mrs. Heaton ever since her marriage, and that she had acted as confidential servant. Many things slue mentioned incidentally were of the greatest interest to me, yet they only served to show how utterly ignorant I was of all the past. "But why did you disclose your identity?" I inquired, when the lights,.showed that we were enter- ing the London suburbs. "Because I felt certain that you didn't recognize ins, she laugh- ed,; "and I had on wish to spy up- on you, knowing as I do that your life is the reverse of happy." What could this mean 7 It spoke of our engagement for five months! I had no knowledge whatever of ever having declared the secret of my love, much less becoming her affianced husband. Was it possible that in the first few months of my unconscious life I had met her .and told her of my affection, of, how 1 worshipped hey with all the strength of my being? Aa I sat there with the carefully preserved' letter in my hand there arose before me a vision of her calm ,fair face, bonding over the piano, her handsome profile il- lumined by the candles on either aide, the single diamond suspended by its invisible chain, gloannn g ab her throat like aant i g s eye. The impression I had obtained, of her on that night at The Boltons still remained indelibly with nae, Yes, her beauty was superb, her sweet- ness unsurpassed by that of any other'woman I had ever. met. Among the other private papers preserved within the wallet were four acmes of notepaper with type. writing upon them. All bore the same signature—that of the strange paled "Axel." All of them made appointments. One asked me to meet the writer in the writing -room taf the Hetet Victoria in London; another made an appointment to meet me "on th'e Promenade at 1Jlastbourno opposite the Wish Tow- er;" a third suggested my office at Winchester house es n mooting - place, and the font th g,uee a t•ort- dOienir;s on the dcmatte• s trorm aL King's Cross Station, use," the answered, with some he- sitation. "Your life has, since your marriage, not been of the hap- piest, that's certain." "And so you have no intention of telling any one where I've gone?" 1 asked eagerly. "None in the least, sir. Rest as. cured that I shall say nothing — not a .single word." "1 thank you," I said, and sat back pondering in silence until the train ran into Waterloo, where we parted, sho again reassuring me of her intention to keep my secret. I congratulated myself upon a very narrow escape, anti, taking a cab, drove straight to Trafalgar Square. As I crossed Waterloo Bridge the long line of lights on the Embankment presented the same picture as they had over done. Though six years had passed since I.had last had knowledge of Lon- don, nothing had apparently chang- ed. The red night -glare in the leaden sky was stillthe same; the sante unceasing traffic; the same flashing of bright drosses and glit- tering jewels as hansoms passed and repassed in the Strand—just as I had known London by night during all my life. The gold -braided porter at the Grand handed me out of the cab, and I ascended by the lift to the room allotted to me like a man in. a dream. It hardly seemed pos- sible that I could. have been absent in mind from_ that whirling, fevered world of London ;for six whole. years. I had given a false name in the reception bureau, fearing that those people who called themselves my friends — Heaven save the mark 1—might make inquiries and cause -nay arrest as a wandering lu- natic. I had no baggage, and I saw that the hotel -cleric looked up- on me with some suspicion, In- deed, I threw down a couple df sovereigns, well knowing the rules that no person' without luggage was taken unless he paid a deposit beforehand. I laughed bitterly within myself. Flow strange it was! • Next morning I went forth and wandered down the Strand the dear old Strand that I had once loved so well. No ; it had in no wise changed, except, perhaps, that two or throe monster buildings had sprung up, and that the theatres announced pieces quite unknown to me. A...sudden desire seized nee to see what kind of place was my own oliico,, If, however,' I went near there I might, I reflected, be recog- nized by some one who knew rue. Therefore I turned into a barber's and had my beard cut, off, then, fur- ther on, sought a new dust -coat and another hat. In that disguise I took a hansom to Old Broad Street. 1 was not long in finding the bu- siness headquarters of my other self. How curious it all was l My name was marked, upon a hngc brass plate in the entrance hall of that colossal biotic of offices, and I emended to the first floor to. find my tante inscribed upon the door of one of tho largest of the suites. I stood in the corridor careloesly reading it paper, and while doing eo witnessed many personsseveral of them smart -looking City men, leave, as though much business Was being conducted within, (To be Conhinited,) Bazin Fag and Tired ,,terve* Yleft1 4s SHREDDED WHEAT It ill a natural food and with milk or dream and fresh fruits is an ideal diet in waren weather. IRINOS me GLOW OP HEALTH TO WAN CK.1BKS SOLD lir ALA etO('aisFs 1019 OUT-OF-THE-WAY PLACES BITS 01.1' BRITAIN WHERE )5'0 OF MAN HAS NEVER TROD. 0T Parts of Edinburgh Castle Never Climbed—Cumberland Reeks Defy the Climber. At first sight it may seem incred- ible that there can still exist, in the twentieth century, a single square yard of our islands where human beings have never set foot. Yet rise fact remains that there are many such places, though, admittedly, they are small in area and, as a rule, in out-of-the-way parts of the country, says London Answers. Oddly enough, however, one of the most notorious of: these mitred - den. spaces is actually to be found ie the midst of one of our greatest cities—namely, Edinburgh. The ex- traordinary crag on which Edin- burgh Castle stands — Stevenson called it "a Bass Rook on dry land," and spoke without exagger- ation—is, in parts, unscaleable. Thera are patches of it which have never been climbed, and never will be, without the aid of ropes. Pris- oners have been known to escape the cliff, but only by circuitous from Edinburgh Castle and descend routes. No human being can walk or scramble straight up it at one point opposite Princess Street. In Cumberland there are, how- ever, many far more striking ex- amples of rocks which defy the climber, even when he is aided by ropes.. Indeed, many experts con- sider certain of the Cumberland cl'mbs to be even more dangerous than the highest Alps of Switzer- land. George D. Abraham, T1iL FAMOUS ROCK CLIMBER, has stated that the mac who can negotiate the most difficult English climbs, under all conditions of wea- ther, could also conquer the Mat- terhorn. The Eagle's Nest Arete, on the Great Gable, Cumberland, is pro- nounced by many to be the most hazardous climb in the world, al- though it is only four hundred feet high. One hundred and fifty feet cf this is almost vertical and prac- tically ledgeless, and abort thirty feet above the starting point there is an overhanging "nose " of rock, which has to be circum -navigated with infinite pains on a rope. No foot, obviously has ever trodden that "nose" ; and even going round its aide the ventureaomc explorer's feet are temporarily dangling in nrid-air, while he hangs, metaphor- ically to it by his eyelashes. To rightand left of him are quite wide expanses of rock which have never beth traversed, and probably never will be. The most difficult climb in Bri- tain is said to be on Snowdon, on the "buttress" called Lliwedd, and in the Slanting Gully, which is eight hundred feet high. Half way up, the climber, agcorcling to one who has performed the feat, is "Like a Cly walking across a ceiling" ; and of course, there is only one way up, so that on either hand there are unexplored patches of considerable extent. In the Highlands there are 538 summits of 3;000 feet, and over, and a dozen of 4,000 feet, and over. On the mountain called Biclean-dam- Bien, overlooking Glencoe, an Am- erican expert says : "There are still a number of routes on those cliffs which offer the honor of first as- cents to enterprising amateurs," That is to say, THEY ARE STILL UNEXPLORED British Alps have claimed their victims, too, and not always inex- perienced climbers, A' certain well-known Swiss mountaineer once travelled speoiaily to Skye,`appar- ently to prove to the Highlanders that their hill, Sgurr-nen-Gillean, would be a mere stroll for one who had tsseended the Matterhorn. The mountain took a terrible revenge 0uthe .boaster -find his mangled body was hermit at the foot of one of its grey precipices. Anotlier Scottish peak, Schiokallion, has more than once witnessed accidents es serious as any which have occur- red among the Alpe, The Dern Knotts Creek, in the Luke district, tor long remained un- climbed, until conquered by the in- trepid Owen Glynno Jones, who re- commended it as a prentieteplece ,or amateurs who want to learn to climb the world-famous "Mum- mery mery Crank," the hardest part of Mont' Blanc, anti the most nerve. racking climb in Europe. Near the Kern Crack are many small por- tions still unollmbed, ROMANCE OF A. BROKEN AR111, Ifow General-Bugly Scored Against the Insurance Company, litre is the story of a case which i•+puzzling many lawyers. Some time ago an agent of the Beware Accident Insurance Company call- ed on General Bugly andimportun- ed him to have himself insured against accident. "I don't need to be'insured," said the general. "I am not exposed to danger." "It may seem so," the persist- ent,agent replied, "but, regardless of apparent security, accidents may, befall us." "There may be some truth in your view," said the general; and then, after a few moments' reflec- tion he added, "For several years I have been tormented with a pre- sentment that my left arm is tobe broken." "Very likely to happen," ex- claimed the agent. "Still," the general continued,' "time passes, ,.,rd the .accident seems as far off now as ever. ' "My dear sir," said the agent, "misfortune is ever distant until it falls upon us." "That's a fact," the general as- sented. "Now, I'll make you is proposition; if you'll agre to insure my left arm I'll take out a policy," "It is not usual, general, to in- sure one certain legt or arm, but I am inclined to accommodate you." "All right. Now this is my plan: Insure my Ieft arm, and if it be broken pay me fifty dollars par week until it gets well; and until it is broken T will pay you five dol -.i .rs a week," The agent said he would write to. the secretary of the company. He did so, .telling the secretary, after explaining the proposition, that the general was one uf' the most peculiar men he hart ever seen. The secretary, much amused, submit- ted the matter to the board. .The board, as much amused as the sec- retary, accepted the proposition. Regularly every week, during two months, the company received five dollars from the general, and then came the information that the general's left arm was broken. The local physician, employed by the company, and who was,by the way, a friend of the general's, sent in hie statement to the affect that the arm was broken, and the general received instructions to draw .on the company for fifty dollars each week, until his aim should be pro- nounced' well. Six months passed and still the general continued to draw. The secretary wrote to the physician and received the reply that the arm had not begun to mend. Six more months passed, during which time the ganeral, patiently, even cheer- fully, drew his money. The board held a special meeting, ,and instruc- ted the secretary to go to the gen- eral's home and investigate the matter. The official, upon arriv- ing, sought the company's physi- cian, "Is it possible," said he, "that the general's arm has not recov- ered 7" "It is a fact." "Did you bandage it properly?" "Yes; come and see for yourself." The physician, conducting the sec- retary t0 the general's house, re- marked, as they entered :— ' "The general is not at home, but his arm is here. There it is, on the table, Nicely bandaged, you see. Don't understand why it does not grow together 7 Perhaps it is made of the wrong sort of wood." The secretary immediately brongt, The secretary . immediately brought an action, ,Able lawyers have been employed, and the re- sult is anxiously awaited, SICK -ROOM RULES. Nevem whisper ill' an invalid s room. To most people it is intense- ly irritating. If, you .want to say anything that it is best for the pa• tient not to hear, go into another room to say it. :Don't allow household ;annoy- ances to be spoken of in the sick- room, Only cheerful topica' should be discussed. Remember Haat when ien a person is lying on his back he is deprived of the Ta.eteetion of his eyelids froze the tight; therefore, blinds and etu'- tains should be adjusted With this fact in view,