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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Clinton News-Record, 1898-11-24, Page 3ey ("jbi'leF:IttiRkPfiFWtfit/PitMF Ii STORIES OF THE SEA, By EDWARD JBNKINS, M.P. Author of " Little Hodge," " Lard Bantam," "Gina'. Baby,"&e. CHAPTER III. --Continued. "Silt mei Kill mel" murmured Mr. FIllg eie els no harm done, papa," cried Miss Araminta, smoothing her hair and looking round, to see fhat the ulster was as graoetully disposed as possible. "It's my fault. I rushed up- stairs in my fright, and this — this— gentleman—was kind enough to take e charge of me. I eased him to bring me to the captain's cabin. For some reason or other that gentleman there had left it --and when he came back he —he—looked the door before he discov- ered me--" edraminta would have gone on, but Sir Benjamin began to feel in his gouty feet the chilling effects of the water in whioh they were standing. "Take my arm," he said, curtly, to his daughter. "I am infinitely. oblig- ed to you, sir, whoever you are, for yyour attention to Miss Peakman. She ie very young and inexperienced." "Not more so than I am, I expect," returned the young man, bowing hauShtily. "I am glad to ihave been of any service to the young lady," with a more kindly) inclination to Aram- inta. As the knight and his fair daughter left the Dubin, the youth was about to follow them, when a muttered remark from the oocupant drew him to the aide of the berth. iHe caught a glimpse of the man's face, who with his eyes shut appeared to be groaning out maladiotion,s. "What, Corcoran!" cried the young gentleman, seizing Mr. Fes by the shoulder, and shaking him roughly. "What on earth, sir, are you doing here? and travelling inoog, too?" . "I'm gone olean• mad!" said Mr. Fex, starting straight up in the bed, and speaking with an unmistakable Dublin aocent. "Where on earth—or at sea rather—did you come from, my lord? If it is indeed yourself—for I can't believe my own eyes and ears." "1 ought to ask you that question, sir," said Lord Pendlebury, laughing— tor it was he. "How comes it that the Master in Chancery is off duty, and at his . age, under an assumed name, per- forming these pranks on a steamer a 'thous And miles from Dul.lin?" Overcome with the odddity of the thing, the young man threw himself on the sofa and laughed roisterously. "Oh, Corcoran!" he cried, at length. "I owe you a guinea. I was lying in my berth as sink as a dog when all the happened, and you have cured mel" "Whist, me lord!" Dried the reputed Mr. Fex, putting his head out of his berth, anu earnestly motioning to the peer to be silent. "You knew all about 'the 'proceedings,' of courser Lord Pendlebury nodded. "And that she got the divorce?" The peer nodded again. "And that she got it on suborned evidenoe got up by that cursed at- torney and thief Mulrooney?" "I did not know that, Corooran," re- plied the young man, gravely. "Fex, Feel My lord, call me Fax," oried the tenant of the cabin, in a ludiorous attempt to speak low and yet to carry his voioe through the din. I've seen herl—She's there!' and he pointed towards the thin mahogany bu.khead which divided his cabin from that of the purser next door. . "What. Mrs.— "Ooh, dear Lord Pendlebury, don't you mention the name now, darling, for I'm at my wits' end what to do.' "Oh, it is impossible: it's all non- een eel" "No, no; look here;" and Fex, alias Cocoran, vaulted into the water, and shutting the door, whispered loudly to his trend. "You know when that ter- riule shook came, I was lying here quiet enough, and thinking I'd soon be three thousand'miles away from Dub- lin and the everlasting banter' of the Castle and the olubs, when I heard the shock and roar of the water as it rushed along'the deck and burst in the twodoors next to mine, and came run- ning in here through every cranny and crevice. I thought' we were all off for Redo, and not liking the idea of going down in my 'berth, I opened my door and ran out on the deck. At the same instant, on my life as I hold on here, she ran out of the next cabin, the purser's, in a neat undress familiar to mo; and she no sooner saw me stand- ing there in my own al fresco state, than she began to give tongue like a steam fire -engine whistling for water —though, by the way, at the moment there was plenty of that about. "'Tie he! 'Tis het' sayb she, covering her eyes. 'Tis Peter's ghost oome to reproaoh me, just es I am about to pe, ish —Oh, Peter!, Peter!' and she triedto Lay hold of my arm. "'Aroynt thee!' says I. For I thousht she was a ghost too, and that m y be we had each appeared to re - reproach the other at our dying mo- ments. And I made a leap .for the cabin. Faith, I don't know what's fo oome of it! There was a female on deck, there was a female in the cabin I ran into, and there was a female in possession of my own when I name back. There are at Least two people to be settled with, besides her second husband, who must be on board, for I was told six months since she was to be married again. You'll stand by me now, won't you?" The earnestness of the narrator produced on the young lord an effect the reverse of that intended. He shouted with laughter. "Oh, my lord," said poor Mr. 'Fex. "It's amusing to you, but it's death to me. Now you know all about this, I need never show my face in Dublin again. Well, well, I may arrange a thing or two, and get over the side of the ship, for 'twill kill me, any way." There was just a flash of seriousness in the speaker's manner, and Lord Pendlebury, who was an astute young fellow for his age, began to be afraid the joke was going too far. He sat up and assumed a more sober air, "Nonsense, Corcoran. I give you my word of honour 1'11 say nothing about it. The fact is, in the excite- ment, you have made a rnisteke. She La not on hoard. It is impossible. Make yourself easy. Coyne, 1'11 call up a steward. Thee must bail out this cabin, which is one huge footpath. ,As for that ridiculous old knight, and his ohit of a daughter, and her stupid we shall soon put them all Get into bed, my friend, you are shivering fearfully. How did you gett that bruise over the eye?" Mr. Fex 'was soon in bed, and the events of the day, acting upon an ex- ditable temperament, brought on a slight Attack of fever. His servant being prostrated, as gentlemen's gen- tlemen and ladies' abigalls are by the weather at sea, a steward was told off by the doctor to look after him during the night, This fellow, having nothing better to do than to listen to the patient's Ineoherent wanderings, excogitated a theory about poor Mr. Fax which entailed serious conse- quenoss. CHAPTER P. By the morning of the third day the wind had slightly abated, although it was still blowing what are termed "great guns," and the captain, whohad been up the better part of two nights, was baking a few hours' rest in the ohart-room, when a loud kno k, fol- lowed by the opening of the dour and the insertion of a dripping lou' -wester, disturbed him. "If you please, sir," said the intru- der, "may I speak to you, sir?" "Yea, Mr. Staokpoole, if it is any- thing important. Come in." The intruder was the fourth officer, and he was followed by a steward, Cadbury. They both looked very larave. "1 think, sir," aid the mate, "we've got him I" "Got what!" said the captain. whose .brain was a little disturbed by want of sleep. "Him, sir; the murderer Kane, sir 1" "The devil I" cried • the captain. "Where 9" In your cabin. se. 1" The honest captain burst out in a cold perspiration at the idea of his quarters being occupied by an accused malefactor. "Whet. the Mr. Fex-9" "His name ain't Fex. sir." interrupt ed the steward, touching his forehead "He was took 111 yesterday, sir, and I've been with him all night. He's been going on rambling most dreadful just like a murderer; asking God 1. forgive him, staying he'd drown hisself calling out that he'd be the death o a mon of the name of Mulrooney — that, of course, sir, would be the detec tive—.and asking his dearest Pearl t forgive hirn—' h it would be some wick ed woman of his acquaintance, sir." "Does he answer to the descrip- tion ?" "Exactly, sir," cried the officer and steward in one breath, "And we've agreed to divide the reward." "Humph!" said the captain, throw- ing off his great woollen nightcap, scratching his head, screwing up his eye, and taking an observation of the two lucky men bobbing there before him, and wishing to himself that they might ever get the reward they were so cock -sure of dividing. "Humph! What have you done with this man?" "He's still in the cabin, sir." "But he'll run away ; he will throw himself overboard." "Oh, no, sir. He Is very weak this morning. And I've stationed six of the watch, under a ruartermasler, out- side this door, with instructions to seize him if he tries to escape," said the officer. "Very well, Mr. Stackpoole. Keep the guard on until further orders. Serve out a brace of pistols Co the quartermaster, with orders to shoot the man if he becomes unmanageable If you want, to get your reward, Mr Staokpoole, you must produoe him dead or alive. It wi'l never do to let him go overboard, you know." Mr. Stackpoole smiled appreciatively at the captain's shrewdness. and heand Mr. Cadbury. left the h'mest master to his own reflections. ')baso refl ctions were anything but pleasant. He knew nothing of any laws except those of navigation and cyclones, and such scraps of land legi elation as particu- larly affected his ship and his jurisdic- tion when in port. The job in hand he did not relish. If he wore to make a mistake he hid sense enough to know it would turn 'out very seriou'ly for him. This person who had given him £12 for the use of his cabin, he had seen. He seemed to be a gentlmanly man; the steward might be quite wrong in his surmises. The captain therefore resolved to act very cau'ious- ly. He went down. as so"n as b" h'td dressed. to take the opinion of Sir Benjamin Peakm^n. -Th' knish` was not the best person to hive consulted, at the moment and on this particular subjeet. He had not yet recovered his equanimity, so severely shaken t hs day before, and was ready to believe anything of the oecup"nt of the cap- tain's cabin. He was terribly alarmed to hear for the first time from the captain's lips that there was a mur- derer on board. "That is the man, beyone a doubt," said het "I assure you, Captain Wind- lass, he behaved like a ruffian. He ran into Lady Peukman's maids' room. and locked himself in with my daugh- ter's male, a very proper young person. In rushing out again: he knorked me down, and I em sti 1 suffering in the chest from the blow he gave me. Then he locked himself in with my daugh- ter, who htppened to have been carri- ed into your cabin by an officious young fellow you have on board, and but for the alacrity, with which he was followed up, God knows what might not have happened. There can hardly be a doubt at out. it ; that is the man I" Fortified with this opinion, which en experienced and impartial lawyer li'ce Mr. Carpmael would hive at once dis- carded as resting on no evidence really relevant to the question of identity, the captain ascended to his cabin, where the nne,onscious Mr. Fox lay, in- vested by a small naval and military force. There he found N.wniting him the fourth officer and Cadbury, the steward. They had been making a re- connaissance. He's Lying quiet enough in his berth now, sir," said Cadbury. "All right, Mr. Sttaokpoole, you and Quartermaster Sinolair will follow me. Cadbury, you stay within reach. The rest draw up on either side of the door, and be ready at n call." Captain Windlass, not liking the ,job a bit, but pressing his teeth together and going at it with all the resolution of a true Briton, turned the handle of the door and entered the cabin. His two ntdes-de-camp had followed, and on a sign from him closed iL again, look- ing sharply all the while at the enemy, who, whatever intentions he harbour- ed. looked mild enough as he raised his head and glnnend at them inquiringly. The dull light revealed a large head, revered with thick, dark hair, al fairly prominent prol oseis, dark whiskers and moustaches, and a bearded chin, Over the left syS was a black bruise. The rapt rein and Mt. Stackpoole nod- ded to each other, The tenant of the cabin, who, as we have seen, was an Irishman, could not. remark the mysterious demeanour of the intruders without an observation. "Good -morning to you, captain," he odd, roeognizing the latter. "Are you wanting to refer to some of your charts here? You're quite welcome. Faith, I hope you're not going to give us an- other fright like that we had yester- 0 irrepressible humour of his country- ' men. "lie ki.led his brother Abel." '1 he captain an.i the two officers - started and looked into each other's o forces. their worst suspio.ons were - confirmed.. "Your answer condemns you, you wretched man!" c, ted the captain. "You etidently know all about it. A person named Eug. ne liane—Kay—aw —10—e0— a fugiti,e from justice, ch tired with murder ing Mr. William lehi.potts, hanker, of Da play, and rob - Ling the bane of five thousand pounds ster.ing—is on board this ship, and you're the man!" "Nonsense I" said poor Mr. Fex, breaking out into a healthy and pro- fuse persptnation. "Yes, sir," the oaptin went on. "We have the description here. Stackpoole hand me the description, and you and Mr. Sinclair stand by there and tell off the particulars as I read them." "Ay; ay, sir I" Oa.ptain; ''A man." Ambo. A man he is. sir! Captain. "Of about forty-five or fifty years of age. -- Anew. To a day sir. Captain. "With thick black hair." Ambo. Excitedly. Black as tar. sir! Captain. "Dyed to cover grey." Ambo. Ay, ay, sir I "Dyed, ye blackguards 1" interrupted Mr. Fax, in high dudgeon. "It never was tinted with a drop of anything but its natural juices!" Captain: Silence in the dock there. "Parted down the middle." To be Continued. "all over the ship; and I need never look near Dublin and the Four Courts again.." "Is that your real name, sir," thun- dered the captain, shaking a prodigious fist In the direction of the cowering Fex. "On your oath, sir. is that really your name 9" The man who was thus called on to bear witness against himself had nev- er seen arose-eaoamination conducted in this way before. He was demoralized. "Ah 1 ye—ye—what Is it you're after, Captain Windle—Windlemaes— Wind- lass—or whatever you're called.' What do you mean, sir?" "Is Fax your name. sir tee roared the captain, in increasingly stentolian tones, as he once again brought his fist in much more alarming proximity to the countenance of the suspect. "Gracious heaven, deliver mel" cried Fex, sitting up as well as he could. "lf you must know, then, Fex is not my real name, sir." "1 thought so," said the captain, tak- ing off his eap and wiping his beaded brow in triumph al the admission he had extraoted. He sat ,down on the sofa, his great knees coming up to a Tins with his watch -pocket, and laid his huge arm on the top of the locker beside him. "Now, sir," he said, "be cautious! You are our prisoner. Quartermaster, show the ',Laois." the startled bye of Mr. Fex, alias Corcoran, glanced a moment at a couple of lung ship's pistols, Large enough apparently to carry about six- teen to the pound, and wi.h a shudder be turned his eyes toward the captain.- " w hrat do your say yuur name is, sir 9" "Corcoran, of No. 66 Lower Merrion Square, Duulin." "%v hat other names have you passed under, sir ? ' None whatever. Send for my ser- vant, he wi.l tell you all about me." ''1 dare say," rep iad the captain, drily. "Did you never hear of the name of Kane, sir? Kana—d'ye heart" "1 aid," replied the other, with the • day." "I'm afraid I am going to give you a fright, sir," said the captain stern- ly, bending his brows on the unhappy Fex, and transfixing him with a Rhadamanthine stare. "You came on board, sir, and took this oabin under the name of Fex f" "I did," says Mr. Per, quailing be- fore the oaptaln'e eye, but not for the reason the speetatore Imagined. "Isere, it's all out now," said Per to himself, POPULATION OF OLD COUNTRIES. Dispuleting Matistiee Which Upset Many t'reeoneelved Notions. It has popularly been supposed that the pupu n..ion or the monarchies and unstable repuelics of Europe was de- c.Lning. or if not declining, increasing at a ratio so small as to Ire almost im- perceptiole. For nearly half a century there h.rr been a steady stream of eml- gratiun from Eurup:an 'countries to the united States,.L'anlua, South Am - mice, ane Australia, and no increase of population ,in any European country from immigrtation from other countries than Europe. 1 he devastating wars, whish, theoretica,ly, at least, reduce th.: pupueoion of alt military countries auroad, have operated to the uisadvan- teige of many lands. and especially those which have maintained colonies the pacilioation of which requires mili- tary operations. Again, the uecrease of the birth rate in some European countries has been the suo,lect of abstruse controversy among physicians and men of science, and yet it appears from official figures at hand that the increase in the total population of Europe during the past ten years has been nearly to per cent., a atatement whish has obtained cor- rouoinetiun in other couutries, and the correctness of which is proved by the records of countries in which there have been censuses recently. At the beginning of the present cen- tury the population of Europe was put by Levesseur at 175,000,000. In 1830 it was 220,000,000, In 1800 it. was 210;- 000,000, 10;000,000, end in 1b90 it was 350,000;000. It is now 380,000,000, and the continu- ance at the present rate of increase will mage it 385,000,000 in 1900, 10 per cent. increase over what it was in 1b90. The yearly emigration from Europe is snout 50u,00u at present. or 5,Uu0,000 in a decade. In the absence of new- comers to make up this decrease and in view of the tracrrward and unprogres- sive condition of many European coun- tries, it may bo supposed that there would be no vast gain of population, but the contrary of chis is shown. The number of inhabitants are increasing in like ratio. These are 1.he figures given of the increases in European countries during the past Len yeara: Russia, 14.5 per cent.; Germaiay, 11.5; Austr.a-Hungary. 9.6; England, 3.5; Italy, 4.5; 1+'rance, 0.S. At this. rate in 100 years Russia would have 228,000,- 000 inhabitants, Germnny, 106,000,000, Austria, 79,000,000; England; 6x,000,000 Italy, 44,000,000; and Eranee 40,000,1.00. the modest estimate which this French statistician makes of the growth of population in his own coun- try, may, perhaps, disarm the answer- ing criticism of the German statisti- cian whose profound ethical treatment of "ratios" in population hits already outrun many volumes of Leipsie, Berl lin and Dresden publications,. but fhe English and Scotch statisticians aro not thus easily satisfied, and the Scotch statletioirins especially are ob- durate when asked to revise, correct, amend, or In any way modify their conclusions, ns to the population of other countries, although in respect of the population of Scotland they are leas steadfast. (Possibly this Is due to the fact that the population of Scot- land, varies comparatively little, though there has been a .remarkable growth in late years of the population of its chief cities. The present popula- tion of Glasgow is in °tools of 700,000. Edinburgh has 800,000, and Aberdeen 125,000. Alastair's Cross. "Rise tip and oome out now. it's a bonny night for us. Indeed—and for the work that's afoot, Ian Ban." Thus a yeloe pried aloud from the midmost of Abe silent group of orags- men and fishermen that stood waiting dourly round the Bast -shut door of Ian MiaeAlastair's cottage, perched, like a gull's nest. on the ridge of the steep and shining beach et Ronaldshay. "Make haste, man, make haste 1 and come along with youreelf; it's tired waiting here we are." "Aye, aye 1 It's ready and coming I am, Macdonald; but hasty work is aye 111 work, and I was saying a bit prayer in an orra minute here, that was all." The door swung open now, and the speaker came out into the half light ' that a sullen moon gave as she slipped fitfully from cloud to cloud in the 'windy sky. A handsome man, this fair Ian, with eyes as blue as corn- flowers, and a yellow beard that the wind was tossing all ways at once ; but just now bis eyes were darkened and his face set with the same stern purpose that made dumb the crowd of kinsfolk end neighbors around him. "Come out, Alastair I" he called, and a tall slip of a lad came out and stood waiting by his side. His father had given him a strain of Danish blood as well as Celtic, and his mother had been kindly Irish of the Irish. But Alastair MacAlastair favoured neither fair Ian nor dark Aileen, for his eyes were of the see's shifting color, and the soft hair under his fisherman's cap was a dusky red; his eyebrows were of the darkest, and against the sunburn of cheek and chin his lips showed curious- ly colorless, and in odd contrast to the sturdy men and strapping lads around him was hie extreme slenderness of build, in spite of the rough blue.clothes which seemed almost to hide him. "I am here," he said, speaking in Gaelic, as he stepped to his father's side, "and the time is here, Ian Mac - Alastair says. And what do you want of me, neighbors?" "Go down to the beach, Alastair," his father said curtly. And the boy obeyed silently. When their feet were ankle deep In water Ian MacAlastail spoke again. "Did you pray before you slept to -night, Alastair? Yes? That's good. Strip now. ;His son lifted won- dering eyes to Ian's gloomy face, but obeyed silently, and presently some one muttered a verse, of an old spell song that ch.tnged the wonder in Alastair's eyes to comprehension. Naked hands and naked feet are all that the sea has need of, Naked oh, the soul must go, that'the ninth wave has greed of ; Naked heart for the stars to sift, naked limbs for the tide to drift Out from the shore, to come no more to the hearths that the spirit has , heed of. When the murmur died Alastair raised his head and looked round on the darkened faces with a flickering smile on his pale mouth. "Is it to drown myself you've brought me here, or will you do it, Ian MacAlasLair ? I'll lift no finger to stop you, for long have I been knowing I was the need- less mouth and the useless hand among you; and my red head bringing bad luck to your nets all thelsummer. Only I'd bake it lonely if you would do it quickly, friends—because it's bitter cold it is waiting here." "You sha,l not be waiting long, Ala - stele.," Ian said heavily, 'and neither wl.1 you drown yourself nor we you ; we wi.1 be giving you a chance, though not in Ronaldshay." "Ronaldshay I know." Alastair said quietly, "and it's glad I would be if you would kill me here with your own hand, father—No—?" His hand slipped from his father's shoulder, "Then have your wit! and your way, lan MaoAla- stair ; I'll not gainsay you." "There's the moon," Lan said at last, "now make ready." He stooped and dragged some dark object at his feet a little higher up the beach, so that its lower end only lay in the sea. Ala- stair glanced at it, and saw that it was a tree -trunk, weed -covered and barn- acle grown (with washing about in heavy :teas. Upon it a spar was lashed crosswise. ,Alastair looked at it " a moment longer, then in obedience to a gesture from his father laid himself down upon it with his arms out -stretch- ed. '!hen Macdonald and another man stooped over him, lashing his feet to- gether, and than securing his arms to the crosspiece just above the elbows. Two stout ropes held him by the shoulders and wont over his body, crossing on the breast, and these were drawn so tightly that Alastair, after enduring with clenched teeth for a minute, was forced to cry out. "Lebsen It," Ian MacAlastair said, hoarselytand the others obeyed. "I am safe now," Alastair said, smil- ing. as they dew back from him for a minute. "Your knots are fast, Mac- donald, and so are—ah I" They had raised t.ho cross upright now, and the sudden strain upon his over -wrought nerves had forced another cry from Alastair, but the next rough move- ment he bore in silence; and it was with shut lips and quiet eyes that he e'ndur'ed the sudden ousting -out from their midst, and smothering splash in- to deep water. "A boat will be picking you up, may- be—but, you will not be ceiling heck to Ronaldshay, Judas MacAlastair," Mac- donald shouted after him, but Alastair called no curate back as those on shore halt expected. He did not even turn bit hexad to look at the shore, but lay still upon his Arose, larking with the same quietness th stinging of the salt spray in hie tee;, and the tingling pain in his Wan d limbs. "Naked limbs—t, Alastair whisperer the sea want me e sea hits need nf," preeffhlly. "Does ny'more than the land does, 1 wonde ? Oh, but it's cold, cold, cold!" shuddrrn' as one wave after another drove over his naked body. "I wish the wind would rise, then I would get a chance of drown- ing. Is that a mutter of thunder? 1 wish it. were. Mother, are you sorrow- ful somcwhere for me to -night ?" A nearer mutter of thunder slopped his murmuring, and the next hour laid an- other cross upon" ,Alastnir's burdened shoulders—the cross of perpetual toss- ing about from drowning to life, as the big seas lifted him now, and now broke over him in a clatter of yellow foam. When the erase of the storm wont by Alastair had fainted, but pre- sently the aplomb of some tossing wrack upon his naked breast brought him to a knowledge of hunger and cold and pain, The flab will he plenty next oast, I'm thinking," Alastair gasped .as he tried to shake the drenched hair from his eyes. "If only the sea won't cast me up at their very doors—or then, they will be thinking I'd be opening book again to haunt them. Is it com- ing loose I akar The rope had slipped from his right arm. leaving it free, and the next wave flung him against a sharp -edged rook, bruising his free arm on the maid sharp shells that covered it. But Alastair clung fast to the rook, with Mi light in his face that would not Bade for all the pain of torn flesh and nervese and presently he found what he was seeking—a crevice through which he could thrust his fin- gers. When his hand was fixed fast in the jagged hole the light deepened and softened in A1aetairts face. "This its good; this is better," he whispered, "than the open sea — and still this will not hurt my own folk, for this rock is not Ronuldshay. Kind, kind after all, are you, sea o' me; kinder then I dared hope you'd be." And now a big wave lifted him softly •sand turn- ed him over on his Sage, still anchored to the rock by his right hand. The weight of the cross on his back pressed him down tin arm's length—no more, and than the sea, that he had loved, very gently took the soul of Alastair MacAlastair to itself. At long Last. fishermen from the is- land of Eday found him, still bound to his cross. Though they were afraid to take the drowned Lad !aboard their boat. lest they should suffer in their herring harvests, they towed cross and all ashore with them, and buried the cross and all in their windy hill graveyard, where lie those few men of Eday that the sea has not drowned. And the story of Cross -Alastair s a woeful story in the North Isles to his day. (1 A BLACK EYE. Cense of the Discoloration and How It may I:e Treated. It is a curious fact that the pos- sessor of a black eye is always bitterly ashamed of his ornament, yet in nine- ty-nine oases out of a hundred it Is purely the result of an accident; and even if it la caused by the fist of an adversary, it at least goes to prove that the sufferer faced his foe. A black eye is simply a bruise, a black-and-blue spot, of the eyelids and the parts underneath the orbit. All these tissues being very loose and sponge -like in texture, the bloodwhich escapes beneath the skin in all oases of bruising, and constitutes the black- and-blue mark, spreads very widely, and causes great disfigurement. Sometimes, if the injury has been severe, there will be an escape of blood beneath the membrane covering the eyeball; but the eyeball itself usually escapes damage, owing to its elasticity and to the efficient protection afforded by the bony ring forming the edges of the orbit. A short time after the injury has been received swelling of the parts sets in, the skin is reddened and hot, and ,here is n feeling of tension, if not more or lidss actual pain. This is the time to treat the bruise in order to prevent, as far as possible, the forma- tion of the "black eye." If nothing is done, the discoloration soon appears, first of a dark reddish purple color, and then almost black; later it fades off with a play of colors, green, blue and yellow,'until gradually all traces of the accident disappear. The first thing to do, and that as soon as possible is to apply cooling lo - ions to this pert. A good way to lo - this is to keep two small handkerchiefs in a bowl of ioe-water and apply them alternately, squeezed dry and folded four -ply. As soon as one handkerchief grows warm, it should be replaced by the other. By the end of the first day the cold applications will have done all the good they can, and then handkerchiefs wrung out of very hot water, in which borax or boric acid has been dissolved, should be applied, and changed every minute or two. At the same time the discolored part may be stroked gently with the finger for ten or fifteen min- utes at a time every two or three hours. This is a tedious process, but it will shorten the sufferer's period of embarrassment by three or four days, if persevered in. P0011 MEN'S PALACES. Deseriplloli of the Workmen's Taverna in Belgium. The workingmen's hostelries now in process of organization in the principal Belgian centres of population, under the auspices of the Chaplains of Labor, are described as literally poor men's palaces. That of St. Anthony, just opened at Marchienno-au-Pont, has on the ground floor a spacious hull with a stage opening on one side of a restau- rant and on the other off a pretty chapel. The dining rooms look out on a spacious courtyard and garden with various games and a kiosk for a band. A laundry with ail the latest appli- ances, the building containing the electrical machinery and the house in- habited by the chaplains who manage the institution are attached to the same building. The matin etruc:ture- comsiet's of three floors containing the men's sleeping rooms, each furnished with a bed, a press, a table and some chairs, all opening on airy corridors. The centre of each floor is occupied by a sort of general dressing room, with looking -glasses and water taps all around the walks, while baths can be had in the basement, and all is lit by eleortic light. 'Those who wish to hoard as well as lodge can have food, washing and the mending of their lin- en for twenty-two francs a fortnight, .nine &billings and twopence a week. For breakfast they gel coffee and bread and butter and libitum, and for the midday meal one plate of meat, half a litre of hear and bread and vegetables at discretion. Coal miners who canned. go home to dinner get cold provisions to take with them. At 4 o'clock coffee and bread and butter again, and at supper, vegetables, some Limos meat, and beer in abundance. f"or evening entertainment there are billiards, readings or music lessons for those who join the band. In order lo board if is not 'neeesserj' to lodge in the institution and the restaurant is open to any workman who wants a single glass of beer. SIR• WALTER SCOTT, DUNCE. ' Sir Walter Scott was far from being a brilliant pupil at school, After he became famous he one day dropped in- to the old school. The teacher put the pupils through their paces. After a while Scott said: "hut wbioh Is the dunce? You have one, surely. Show him to me." The torteher called up a poor fellow, who looked the picture of woe as he bashfully came toward the die. the boy: "Well, my good fellow," said tinguished visitor. "Are you the dance? asked Scott. "Yes, air," said Scott, "here is a crown for you for keeping my place warm." At the Paris ipobitlon there will be a. theatre which will seat 15,000 per- a3o)lA, FIFTH DUKE OF PpEPLANDI SPENT $80,00Q,000 TO GRATIFY AN INEXPLICABLE MUM. mem The Great Underground Banquet Hall and ✓illiiPleture Gallery—Empty Now as They Have Ever Been—The Drnee Care Re. rives Interest In the Old Eccentric. The astounding claim of Mrs. Duroe, now agitating England, brings to the light of public notice the many and extraordinary eccentricities of the fifth Duke of Portland, now dead. Mrs. Druce claims that during the periods of hits supposed seclusion et his coun- try e'tate, Welbeok Abbey, he masque- raded as a. T. C. Druce, tradesman, in Baker street, London, that under that name he married, and that her son, now come to man's estate, is his grand- son, says aLondon Letter. She has instituted proceedings to ob- tain far her son the estate of the so- called T. C. Druce, first, and then the estate and Dukedom of Portland. In ldngland the most intense interest has been aroused by her claims, and a practical fever heat he reached by the order of Court, just made, providing that the body of the so-called T. C. Druce shall be exhumed. Mrs. Druce claims that the grave of T. C. Druce is empty. In view of all this, a detailed and accurate description of the sptrange underground rooms and passages at Welbeok Abbey is of more than pass- ing interest. The abbey is one of the finest of the stately homes of England. The eccentricities of Welbeck are impressed upon one immediately one enters the park. No other house in England, or in the world, possesses such an entrance. Instead of bowl- ing along a broad, shady avenue, or a well -kept drive across a green park, you pass through a swing -gate and enter a long, gloomy tunnel, with brioked walls and roof. It is 18 feet wide, thus giving room for two car- riages to pass, and about 15 high. It is lighted by large bull's-eyes from above by day, and by gas jets by night. At the time of my visit, however, workmen were engaged in installing eleortic light throughout the TUNNELS AND PASSAGES. The main tunnel is a mile and a half long, and passes under the long lake which winds through the park. The drive through the tunnel is an uncanny experience. The gloom, re- lieved every few yards by flashes of light from the bulls -eyes above, and the echoing clatter of the horses' feet and the rumble of the carriage wheels carries one back to the limes of romance, and it requires little im- agination to believe that one is being conveyed to a dismal dungeon or tor- ture room. In due course one emerges open air and bright sunshine ately in front of the Abbey. Underground Welbeck is of three kinds—the broad, long tunnels; small- er subterranean footways connecting the Abbey with the outlying build- ings; and the famous underground apartments. The park is a veritable rabbit warren. The course of the tunnels fa marked from above by the big bull's-eyes of plate glass which illuminate them by day. Everywhere over the estate one meets with these round glees gratings, which tell of submerged passages and apartments. The Tan Ga.Lop, an arcade just short of a quarter of a mile, and cov- ered by 6.4,009 feet of glass, was built by the old Duke for exercising his horses in bad weather. It adjoins the stable, about a mile from the house. The Duke was very fond of watching ht's horses, and to reach the Gallop— the, largest building of its kind in the world—constructed an underground passage from the Abbey. Descending eome.steps.in the Gallop, I found myself in a long, winding passage about 8 feet wide and 10 feet legit. Lige the big tunnel, this was lit by bull's-eyes from above, with gas - into the immedi- burners for use by night. Proceeding some 200 yards along this way and mounting some steps, I stood in the MAGNIFICENT RIDING SCHOOL. It its 385 feet long, 104 feet broad and 51 feet high. The roof is of glass, and there are 8,000 gas burners in the building. It is beautifuilly decorated throughout; the stone cornice, for instance, cost five guineas a yard to carve. From this building two underground passages run to the Abbey, three quar- ters of a mile away. Of Welbeck's many underground rooms only the picture gallery is open to visitors. This room, apart from the fact that it is entirely underground, is, without doubt, the finest and most magnificent private apartment in England. The room covers a quarter of an acre, and was dugs but of solid clay. 'tin occactions this room serves as a ballroom, and a splendid sight it must present. When the fith Duke off Portland succeeded to the title and estate in 1854 he found Welbeok a farmstead. Dying in 1879, he left it a palace. For 18 years he turned Welbeck into one huge workshop, employing during all that time 1,000 or 1,700 men. His daily hill of costs amounted to £1,000, and from beginning to end some £7,000,000 sterling. Why the Duke built these subterran- ean rooms and passages, nobody can definitely say. Popular rumor says he was a leper, and so built them to enable him to wander About without being seen. But people who frequent - y saw the Dulro dismiss the story as utterly false. It 19 certain, however, e lived the life of a great recluse. He hut hiss grand rooms up, and lived in lee or two plainly furnished apart- tents. He gave no entertainments nd kept no company, though .he was eking his house a palaO ce. n 1 he ontrary, he shunned his fellow crea- tures. Any servant or workman who spoke to him 1 h a n n a m c WAS TMMEDiATJ:LY DISMISSED. Everybody was eepec ted and command- ed to pass him as if he were a tree. Outside Welbeck he was never seen, and there only with great difficulty, Tor ho immediately made off on the appearance of a stranger. His jour- neys to London may taken as a fair sample of hie reolusiveness. He got into his carriage!, at Welbeck and drove down to Worksop Station with closely damn blinds. The carriage, with the Duke still inside, was placed on a truck and sent on to London. Arriv- ing there, horses were harnessed to the carriage, and he was driven to his houee, thus performing the journey without being aeon by a single person. Thus, by hie works and habits, he earned for himself the title of "The In- visible Prince." Nevertheless, the Duke was a moat kindhearted man. Any applicant foe employment at the .Abbey wads sure tq obtain it, even it it consisted of teethe ing Inllgo than digging pits, whit* would afterward bo fitted up age for in this manner the Duke ma work what' l more usefall jobs could not be given. So recleave did the Duke become to his later years that he could not toler- ate the ppresence of even his oldest ser- vant. His meals were Served in a most peculiar manner, no servants ba- ing present in the room. The table was prepared as if for a fair-sized party. But before each chair was set a certain course. Thus, after finishing his soup, the Duke took the next chair to eat his fish, and so pro- ceeded round the table, a line of drawn-out chairs and dirty plates making progreas until dessert was reached.. By this means the necessity of hav- ing servants ie the room was removed. and, after dinner, in this solitary fash- ion, the Duke retired to hie room, and the servants entered to clear away; Thus lived the fifth Duke of Portland, out off from all mankind. Dead and almost forgotten, attention is again altraeted to him by the mysterious Druce ogee. ABOUT LOCKJAW. How the Trouble Begins, and How a Per- son Attacked Should be Treated Lookhaw, or tetanus, is a disease which, fortunately, is more read about than seen; yet it is not very rare, at least, in its mild form. It occurs more frequently in children than in older people, and oftener in boys than in girls; but this is probably only because boys are more liable to cul and scratch themselves, for it is after such in- juries that lockjaw usually occurs. The disease is more common in some countries than in others, England 1s- ing one of the countries, and Cuba an- other, in which it prevails to a much greater extent than in this country. 1 Here, too, some states and some por- tions of states have an unenviable pre- eminence in this regard. The trouble usually begins with a stiffness and tendency to contract ion in the muscles which bring the teeth together, and with the progress of the disease it becomes impossible to open the mouth—hence the popular nano, "lockjaw." The other muscles of the fade soon become affected in the same tvrty, and after them the muscles of neck, the trunk and the extremities. According as one or another ret of muscles is the strongest or most firm- ly contracted, the arms and legs will be thrown into constrained poaitions, and the body will be, hent forward, or backward, or to one side. W'hen these spasms—which are us- ually painful—are very severe and la - cur frequently or even become con- tinuous,.,.Leltanus is usally fatal. For- tunately, however, this is the less com- mon form of the disease. In the usual milder variety the spasms are less severe and less frequent, and soon, with proper care, begin to become leas and less marked until they finally cease entirely. Lookjaw is caused by a poison ex- creted by a microbe which is found in the soil, especially in that near stables and in manure heaps. This poison, which is somewhat like strychnine in its effects, is absorbed in- to the sytem through a wound made with a rusty nail or other dirty object, or through a wound which has been soiled with earth' or bound up with a dirty rag. Sometimes, espeoially in tropical countries like Cuba, the die. ease domes on after a wetting or a sudden chill, even when there Is no wound of the skin eo far as can be seen, or it may follow in::eot bites. A person with lookjaw must be kept perfeotly quiet and shielded from any- thing that may bring on a paroxysm, such as a touch, a jolt of the bed, or ever; a strong draught of air. The treatment belongs entirely to the physician, for tetanus is too serious a malady and too rapid in its course to permitof any experimenting with domestic remediets. The fatal cases us - hilly last only four or five days, but the milder forms may continue for two weeks before recovery is complete. POINTED PARAGRAPHS. Life's sideshows costs us more than the real circus. A man follows peecodent as long as it benefits him. Wise men never waste their time an- swering prating fools. Illatgrammatically speaking the plur- al of baby must be twins. A man may know love by heart and yet be unable to define it. Doctor's assist nature when men try to escape the debt thereof. When a girl is in love she doesn't carry his Letters in her pocket. Lots of men fall over themselves in striving to get ahead of others. A woman may envy the beauty of another, but she never forgives it. The man who pays as he goes seldom goes fast enough to overheat himself (Living by one's wits has been recom- mended as an anti -fat remedy. When a man sings his own praise he invariably gets the tune too high. Some men snatch victory from de- feat, but more snatch defeat from vin - tory. When marriage is a failure the man tries to put it all in his wife's name. It is easier to take medicine than it is to make up your mind to Lake it. N sharp tongue is more essential to the modern prize-fighter than a strong arm. flaw recruits are probably rn called. because they are net accustomed to fire. It's far more important that a man should know when to le funny than when to know hots. When money talks rt inert seldom troubles himself to investigate the truth of its remarks. Lnhor is a gnocl cure for melancholy. We seldom hear of n laborer traveling the suicide routs. A man never relizes how very learn girl is to him until he acquires the rightto pay her hills. A ring around the ninon isa sign of rain, and a plain ring around a wee man's finger indicates more reign, An exrhtinge says there ern fifty thou/end miracles in an elephant's trunk. it wee evidently packed by a woman. A baseball player isn't necessarily insane just because he gets "off his base" ocea.sionelly. unwise to boast of your genea- logy. (Even if you succeed in treeing it hack to Adam and Fro you haven't any tlee boat of the others. ���emnn'a success as an engineer is phenomenal. Alt hough elle frequent, ly has a wash-out err the line, but few disasters are recorded.