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The East Huron Gazette, 1892-04-14, Page 6DR. SABINE'S PATIENT. PROLOGUE. " Non PB.ovEN." ".We find the prisoner Na Guilty, my lord." A pause, a dead bush throughout the crowded ceinrt, and the foreman added %low- ly We wish, my lord, to add a rider. On the evidence before us, so entirely circum- stantial, we feel obliged to give the accused the benefit of the doubt, and therefore we find him Not Guilty," A wave, a surge swept through the crowd —not.of•relief, not of satisfaction—yet the prisoner was young, han isome, and there were flaws in the evidence. " Monstrous verdict !" said one man, indignantly ; " the evidence against him is simply overwhelming. He must have done it 1" A gentleman just before the speaker glanc- ed round with a slight lift of the brows, a slightly amused smile, as if to say : " Much you know about law." Aloud he remark- ed : " A clear verdict of what in Scotland would be Non Proven ; the man is acquitted by a fluke of evidence. Practically in every- body's eyes the poor fellow is guilty."„ ” Hard lines though that, ain't it, sir ? said another man. " Anyhow he can't be tried again, if someone turned up and said i hey saw him fire the shot. There he goes out o' the dock. I suppose they've got some formalities to do now. Of course there were, and the man so late- ly on trial for murder must have left by a private exit, for the crowd saw him no more—knew not if his heart were almost broken with the agony of its burthen of another's awful crime, The evidence, circumstantially, had been heavy. It had been proved that there had been high words between the accused and - the -murdered man, Mr. leuest, of Elm Hall about his sister, shortly before the fatal deed was done ; that he (the accused) had left the Hall in a mad passion ; that the dead man had also gone out towards the fatal copse in his own park ; that a pistol - shot had been heard by a game -keeper at a distance, and on running to thespot he fount the accused, Albert Claremont, with a small revolver in his hand and a blood- stain on his band, bending over the murder- ed man, evidently horrified. One witness had sworn he had seen the pistol in Clare- mont's possession, but had been forced to admit it was the ordinary sort of revolver, and it might`h ave been one like the weapon produced. It was proved=so far as a negative can be called proven—that nobody had been seen near the Spot or park, going or coming towards it. No stranger seen about the neighbourhood except the accused, was admitted the fact, and out of all these there were of course minor points adduced, for and against,` needless to mention here. The gamekeeper declared that it was impossible for anyone to have fired the shot and es- caped in aray direction without his seeing a figure on the open as he himself ran. There was a patch of young fern just a little way beyond the copse, but he had. run close by it and must have seen anyone amongst it however crouched down. The defence, in the hands of a very clever rising Q. C., was bold, and attacked the pro- secuting defects of evidence, more than re- lying on its own denials, since on both sides almost everything might or might not be and the accused had no witnesses save his own evidence, taken on oath at the inquest under arrest on suspicion. • The substance was this: Albert Claremont was a gentleman pos- sessed of about a thousand a year. He ad- mitted meeting Mr. Guest anel his youngsis- ter in _Paris, where the former, a very bet- ting man, had gone for the Grand Prix. He (the prisoner) admitted a stormy, hostile interview at Elm Hall on .the fatal day, of which Miss Guest was the subject, but he refused all further detail or reason. He had left the Hall; he started in hot blood, and had proceeded some distance towards the western gate of the park, when he was startled by the report of fire -arms coming from a distant copse of trees. He turned and walked quickly towards it, thinking it was probably some poacher, but stili might not be. He was horrified to find Mr. Guest lying dead on his face, bleeding from a wound in the back, and a revolver near him. He picked this up and turned t'ie bogy partially, to see if life was there at all. The gamekeeper Brown rushed up, and cried ' oat : " Good Heaven, sir, have you done this?" He said, "No, I heard a shot and came up. Help me carry him to the house." The -revolver was not his, nor the fellow to it. The counsel for the defence in a telling speech; had emphasized all this, and insist- ed on the weakness of the other side, and suggesting the possibility that the real mur- derer might have fled at once through the park, despite Brown's assertion ; and of course, the deceased might have had an enemy of whom. no one knew—he was not a'man, admittedly, of very austere life. The judge had summed up very impartial- ly, but of necessity, in justice, in favor of giving the benefit of the doubt to the ac- cused. Hence the verdict just given, that sent forth a young fellow with bare life, and—to the majority—a bligh ted na-ne. CHAPTER L DE. sABYNE's PATIENT. What, you take my hand ! You do not believe me guilty, Dr. Sabine?" "No," said Dr. Sabine, with the quiet emphasis of absolute conviction ; " no more than that poor young thing upstairs, whose brain the tragedy has unhinged." The two men were standing face to face, the younger's right hand clasped close in the elder's—the latter, a fine-featured, in- tellectual -looking man of fifty ; the former a tall, very handsome young fellow, who might well, indeed, win and keep a woman's love. " It is that that is the bitterest drop in the cup 1" he said, with -a fierce anguish that wrnng the doctor's heart to see. "My doom of guilt under the world's verdict I s hld ,bear,`; but this !-my darling driven mad -by the shock ! . - She _ must—she Could only have seen the dead man carried in front her window, and heard them say he was-mutrdered by me. Heaven ! her brother 'slain; by her lover !—the horror of the mere idea was enough to turn such a sensitive brain! What wonder she was found sense - in her room, and awoke, after days of Won, to madness! Is there no hope ? ;ifnl Heaven ! is there no hope ?" _Would _ not say that, my dear boy," isicbDr abine, deeply moved; " but 1dare eat give you get web. She haiehad a frightful shoe .soutehaw. olrreh©w ! "repeated Claremont, start- outhink, then--" the no definite thought, oalytheory. �aid,'siniply left Isabel in her riocmd her unconscious,, and no one saw or heard her about in the inter- val ; but Isabel knew you were below, you told us." " Yes, knew I had come to plainly tell her brother that I cared nothing for his fortune, but meant—sinceshe loved me—to make her my wife in spite of him." " Exactly," said Sabine ; " she, doubtless, saw you leave, and may then have gone to Rolf Guest to plead or defy." " The last, then ; my darling is as high- spirited as she is sensitive. Pardon my in- terruption." "And he was a violent man," concluded the doctor. " If my theory be near the mark, only she, poor heart, and Heaven, know what may have passed to madden her. From my experience of insanity—and I have had this private asylum for many years —I am convinced there has been something more in her case than seeing the corpse car- ried in, even though you followed and she heard anything against you. It is a mystery which only she can solve if ever she recovers. You are going abroad you said ? " "Yes,"said the other, bitterly;"whatplace have I now in the world? The verdict acquit- ted me legally, to convict me morally of a foul murder, Yes, I am going abroad, butI am going to set myself one life -object —to try and find if there was any one man or wo- man to whom Guest's death was t f advan- tage." " Heaven send you success, my dear Clare- mont, for only the discovery of the real murderer will, I fear, clear you to the ma- jority of the world. Well, you wish to see Isabel ; but, my poor boy, I warn you, it will be very bitter for you—I do not think she will know you." " Not know me ?" Albert staggered back, putting his hand before his eyes ; " not know her lover, who would die a thousand deaths for her ! she must—she will know me at least out of all the world." " Follow me," said Dr. Sabine ; " but be careful not to excite her much. But ifeshe knows you—there is hope." And he led the way upstairs, opened a door, and only said quietly, " Go in." Albert Claremont passed within and paus- ed. The apartment was spacious and lux- urious, the windows looking out over large, grounds, and beyond over the the wooded beauties of Highgate, amidst which the house stood. One glance took that in ; it was the one solitary figure that riveted the man's gaze—a slender, beautiful girl, such a mere girl, sitting in a low fauteuil by a window, her white hands lying in listless apathy on her lap, the whole attitude that of hopelessness ; but in the great, dark eyes, that turned slowly on the new -comer, there was a wild, dumb hor- ror, as if their gaze had looked once and for all on some sight too appalling to be ever blotted out—a sight before which reason had fallen a wreck; there was no recognition in that glance as it met that of the well- nigh heart -broken, man who stood there, still as a statue, striving for perfect self- mastery before he dared move or speak. Three months ago they had parted in Paris with plighted troth ; one month later, on that terrible day of the murder, he had bent over her unconscious form before they put hint under arrest; and now— "'Voe ! woe! Each heart must bleed, must break," That they must meet like this ! ".Isabel,-' the rich, low tones said, the soft music tremulous with emotion. There was the slightest quiver of those delicate hands, as if the loved, familiar sound had somehow, thrilled the cords of the woman's heart. His leaped with a wild hope ; but lie only moved quietly across the carpet, knelt beside her, and took her hands into his own. "Isabel; my darling !—my one love Don't you know me ?—even me? No control could banish the suppressed agony in the voice, the deep trouble in the eyee, in every haggard line of the hand- some face uplifted to hers. She gazed on him in a strange, strained way, that seemed as if eagerly searching fo something, through the horror that neve eft her eyes for a moment. " N—o," she said, uncertainly ; and oh, flow the sweet wandering voice thrilled and wrung his soul ! " 1 don't kno with a frown, " it hi not his face ! " His face 1" There was, then, a straggl- ing memory of some face, Whose ? His, her murdered brother's or some other ? She did not overtly recognize him for himself ; yet surely the soul, within its darkened prison. " Felthis presence by a spell of might," Or why did she not shrink and repulse him in indignant fear ? Instead, she left her hands in his; kept that strangely eager, pathetic gaze on his face. " Isabel !—sweetheart !—it is I—your own Albert. Have you no word for me ?" The wide, tearless eyes dilated, her bosom heaved, her lips quivered ; but there was, still no response, and no repulsion. Claremont dared another step, impelled by the bold acumen of his great love—per- haps a more unerring guide than even the physician's skill. He passed his arm around the girl's slender form drawing it slowly, as he felt it yield, closer to his breast ; closer yet, till surely the passionate throbs of his heart against hers must stir an answer- ing throb. " Still no sign, yet yields to it y embrace," he muttered, with quickening breath. " This, then, to test, for only from one man living could she suffer it 1" He laid his dark cheek to hers, and felt her start, yet still not shrink ; one second he hesitated, and then his lips touched hers unresisted, pressed them closer and closer in the very passion of love and agony that went straight from heart -to heart, and by its power woke the deadened faculties so far. She suddenly clung to him, sobbing on his bosom. " 0, not a dream 1—not a dream !—but his very self ! Albert 1-0, Albert. my love !—I am_maddened—maddened, I know; but it -is you who hold me so close to your heart, and kiss my l pe ?" " My precious one, yes, your own lover 1" Claremont whispered, brokenly. " Your heart knew me all the time, my poor darl- ing !" Isabel nestled to him, them whispered suddenly, in a frightened way : "It s gope 1 Something has gone from here," putting her hand to her head, " and it won't come back ! 0, it won't came back, Albeit 1" " Yes, darling, it will in time, you know," he said, caressingly ; but his : heart felt breaking to see her piteous look of appeal " I am going away for a little time to try and find, it." "-Going,: away ?" Isabel cried, wildly. " lie will kill me if I am left 1 He'll kill me 1 —kill me, I tell you I" " Nobody shall touch you, dearest," said Claremont, quickly, but firmly. " No one knows where you are but Dr. Sabine and myself. Who could wish to kill you, my Isabel ?" She gazed at him with those wild, horror- struck eyes, then broke into a laugh, such a laugh for one who loved her to hear ! " Ha, ha ! Yes, he will, If he knows, I tell you ! Only it's gone—gone !" She wrung her hands now, then gripped her lover's with the strength of madness. " Are you sure he doesn't know it, Albert ?" " Quite sure, IsabeL" What—O, what 2—was in the poor dark- ened memory and shattered mind? What did she fear, and know? Who was the "he?" Great Heaven ! was his secret suspicion, unspoken yet, right? Did she know— " My now—"'My darling, believe me, you are, and shall be, as safe here as in my arms!" he went on, tenderly—oh, how tenderly !— soothing her agitation. " And I shall not be far ; only within a few hours' run ; and I shall come back, I hope, before long, to keep you always." She put her soft cheek against his, caress- ingly. aress- rnT" here is such trouble in this dear face 1" she said, wistfully. " 0, such trouble 1" Poor fellow, he could only strain her to his breast, and bow his bead to hers, forc- ing back for her sake, the choking sob and and bitter cry : " You break my heart ! You break my heart 1" " There'll be no trouble then, when you are strong again," he whispered, at last, " I mast go away now, dearest, beloved one, for your sake." A last close embrace, a last long kiss, and he went out. He could scarcely have borne more, the doctor saw, after all he had suffered these two months past. " I know all, " he said, quietly. " I was outside—near, if needed. She knew you at last; and there is hope now that she will some day remember all we think she knows, the shock of which has had such terrible effect. Go on your search, my dear boy, and Heaven speed you with hope." But Christmas came—spring, summer, autumn—Christmas drew nigh -again, and still " hope deferred made the heartsick. CHAPTER II. THE JOCKEY'S STORY. " Second class —something-carriage— here you are -quick, please 1" In jumped the little man addressed, slap went the door, and offagain swept the tidal train from Dover after its last stoppage. The new passenger, who could scarcely have weighed over seven stone and a half, and whose whole gaft, dress (albeit quite ordinary clothing), and tout ensemble told him to be a jockey, deposited his valise, settled himself to his satisfaction, and then, glancing his shrewd eyes round, found him- self opposite to the only other occupant of the compartment, a handsome, distingue- looking young man, wrapped in a well -fur- red ulster. The tall, fine form, with its graceful easy pose and masculine beauty of both figure and countenance, were an almost ludicrous con- trast to the little sharp, though bonhommie face, and undersized form of this jockey. Very cold this evening, sir," said he, rubbing his lean, muscular hands ; "looks like snow—but it's seasonable weather for Christmastide, sir." " Well—yes—but," said the other, with a half -amused smile which the dropping moustache veiled. " I rather hate ' season- able ' wheather, as English people use it— means infernally disagreeable weather. I hate cold 1" " Ha 1 ha ! ha ! Fcreigner, eh, sir—do for it rather 1" " Think so ?" returned the gentleman, with certainly a foreign shrug : " well, any- how, I have been much abroad, and am just from Paris." "Ah 1" indeed, sir. 1 was there last May twelvemonth myself."' " Ah !" said the other, with a quick, sudden flash in his dark eyes, " and you are a jockey. I think. Were you at the Grand Prix that year ?" " Rather, sir," returned the delighted little. man, " I rade Temeraire for the Vi- comte de Latour. Was you there ?" " In Paris at the time—yes ; but not at the races, though several I know were, and, I believe, betted heavily on it." ' Aye, sir ! there was a lot of moneywon and lost too that day," returned the jockey, nodding emphatically. " One gentleman I knew—an awful one to bet, sir, though not rich—Mr. Pierce Bovill was—and he lost his last two thonsand on Temeraire, which was second, though I fold him, pri- vate like, that I didn't think so much of the horse. Nor I don't believe he had the money, for he had to give an I. 0. U. for the half of it, anyhow." "Ah! indeed? And who won the money, then?" "Oh, another Englishman, sir—whew!— a hard one to owe to I should think, and fond of money, for I heard him say sharp like, 'Mind you, Bovill, if that isn't paid quick, I'll sue you—by George, I will —and you know it!" "And did he do so?" asked the stranger, carelessly, but he held his breath for a mo- ment. "I don't know quite, sir, but not if he wasn't very quick— leastways, not his own self, for the poor gentleman—Lor', what was bis name. sir?—him that was shot in his own park by a gentleman eighteen months ago?' "Heaven! how madly the listener's heart was throbbing with wild hope! Was this a clue at last? And yet how coolly the white lips said: "Oh! you mean that mysterious murder of Mr. Rolf Guest at Elm Park." "That's the name, sir—and they acquitted the young fellow on the trial. Was you in- terested in it at the time, sir?" The grim humour and irony of the ques- tion were irresistible; Albert Claremont smiled, and said, drily: "Well—yes—I was. Why?" " Only because it was a curious case, sir— mysterious, as you say." "Yet most people think the man was guilty, you know, though it wasn't proved legally." - " Well, he might` be," /said the little jockey, "or he might not be the murderer. I don't think he was, sir, sure as my name's George Winton. I think his story looks like about the. truth. -What do you think, sir?" "I don't think at all, Mr. Winton," said the other with intense quietness. "I know he is as guiltless of Guest's death as you are." " Do you now, sir, really ?" exclaimed the jockey, staring hard.,, " Maybe you know the gentleman, then? "Yes, Ido. By-thebp, have you ever seen or heard anything more of that Mr. Bovill you mentioned since that Grand Prix day?,,. No, air. Someone did tell are that he'd heard he had given up the turf and got ssome employmedt—quite goody—ba!h "'The devil a monk would be,' eh. You wouldn't know him again, I suppose 1" care- less"lyBlese remaryoukedsirthe ,yes other. anyw here! fair- ish, good-looking fellow. Yes, I'd swear to him! "I wonder if he did pay that ebt?I Claremont, indifferently. sup- pose, for there was no such I. 0. U. found either in Mr. Guest's pocket-book or r an - where amongst his pap that distinctly." . oo l d tartlek Winton gave him a shrewd, s " Mr. Guest put it into hispocket-book,tiedl then," he said, " what was found on him, if I call up the evidence. I stood by as he done it, and says to it, `There, that's your nest=reat Heaven ! at last—at last the light !" muttered Albert, leaning back, diz- zy, dazzled, for a moment by the broad glare. Winton looked at him with an odd, eager expression. " Pardon me, sir, but I should like so to ask what you mean by what you said." The other bent forwards, and said, slow- ly" I mean that my strong suspicions are aroused by what you have told me to -night. I mean to ask you in the name of justice to keep silence about it absolutely till you hear from me—the man who has suffered so terri- bly for another's foul crime. I am. Albert Claremont !" " Good Heavens ! I half guessed it !" ex- claimed the jockey, excitedly. " Shake hands, sir, please, if you'll so honor me, and count on George Winton. To think how often my wife and me's said you was inno- cent, and now to know we was right ! Bat where is Pierce Bovill, I wonder, sir ? Ah ! where? Suspicion was neither find- ing nor proving. Where was he ? TO BE CONTINIIED. THE FOX TAIL TORUSES. An Adventure on the Frontier. One day on the piazza of a Wisconsin summer hotel and old gentleman said co me, as we sat gazing out upon the waters of Lake Oneota sparkling in the bright afternoon sunlight : " If you like I will tell you a story whose events took place on this very lake." After a little preliminary talk he told the tale. I reproduce it here as nearly as I can remember it in his own words. My father was a clergyman in a back- woods district of Maine. His parishion- ers were so few and his salary so small he was forced to hunt and trap five days in the week, writing his sermon on Satur- day. When the emigration to Wisconsin be- gan matey of our neighbors decided to go and our family went with them. The Maine people found in this part of the State a region of lakes and forests much resembl- ing the region they had come from. My father brought his family here to Lake Oneota and in the grove on yonder point, just where that gay summer cottage stands, he built a log cabin of three rooms and a shed. His parish was now larger than ever and his parishioners much fewer ; but if he had far to go to deliver his sermons, game and forbearing animals were much more plenti- ful in the Wisconsin woods than in the woods of Maine. Our nearest neighbor lived three miles distant. The nearest village was ten miles away, at the mouth of the little branch that empties into the head of the lake. In the second year cold weather came early in November but no snow. The lake was frozen several feet thick. My little brothers and I enjoyed many a fine skate on. it. Father, also, skated along the shore every morning to reach some of his traps that were set near the lake. It was a har- vest time for him. The cabin loft and shed were packed full of valuable pelts. One day my father made preparations for a trip to the village at the head of the lake to purchase provisions. We watched him set oft. His skates rang as he sped over the ice, drawing behind him a sled loaded high with the furs he expected to exchange for supplies at the settlement Over his shoulder hung his rifle for there were wolves in this region then. They were not danger- ous in summer but in the winter they hunt- ed in packs and would not hesitate to at- tack a man. The third child of the family, Freddie, had been feverish for a few days and among the things which father was to get at the settle ment, the most important of all, was some medicine for him. The day seemed very long to us, for we woods -children regarded this trip to the settlement as a great event ; we looked for- ward eagerly to the delight of " pawing over " the sugar and spices and other won- derful things that would be on the sled in place of the furs. We even hoped, though we did not dare to breathe our hopes to mother, that there might be a few toys on the sled. Evening fell and the cold nipped so bit- terly that we ceased ourlittle ext ursions to the lake to see if wecould hear father com- ing. As the darkness thickened I could see mother grew uneasy, but still, as father was frequently detained by some parish matter, she was not really alarmed. The children were -sent off to bed, all except my- self, I, as the eldest, was chosen to sit at Fred's bedside with mother. His fever had increased and he lay moan- ing in a troubled sleep. We moistened his parched lips frequently, and as I was fully able to do that, I told mother to take a nap and 1 world attend to Fred. She lay down on the settee before the fire and soon the sound of her breathing, regular as the tick- ing of the clock, told me she was asleep. I was tired myself, but I tried hard to keep awake. How long I did so, or how long I slept, I cannot tell. I opened my eyes with a snap. I had dreamed that some one with- outhad called me. I listened, and above the sighing of the north wind that had arisen while I slept I heard the long -drawn howl of a wolf, and then another howl, and another, until a chorus of terrible howls and snarling yells was borne by on the wind. The howls grew louder and I knew the pack was ap- proaching, as often they had. They seem- ed to stop in the wood at alittle distance from the house, ~then they doubled then'' noise. Ina moment more') heard a sniffing and scratching at the door, and although, the howls still sounded some distanceaway, I knew that one wolf, at least, was prowl- ing for us. Mother awoke, but she was not frighten- ed for our safety. The rude cabin doors were strong, and the windows were too small and high in the walls for a wolf to leap through. However, she did not con- ceal from me her anxiety about father. I told her he had probably remained at the ettlement over night, and that even if he had not, no Wolfe could overtake him skat- ing on the glib ice. Now and then a wolf detatched-himself from the mainbody in the grcve and at last there were several howling around the house and sniffing at the doors. The uproar awakened the sick boy.- His fever had become greatly heightened, and he called for water. I went to the pail to get him some and found it was empty. What should we do? Our water was brought fiom a spring down in the grove, the very place where the wolves seemed the thickest. If there had been snow on the ground we might have opened the door and snatched a dipperful before the wolves could touch us. But there was no snow. We did not know what to do. Fred called for water continually. Mother became nearly frantic. So did I. We both believed that unless Fred had water he would died before morning. I went into the shed to get father's shot- gun. I had a wild idea that I might grad- ually kill all the wolves by firing out of the window. I could find no shot larger than duck shot, and I gave up my idea. All around the shed hung many valuable furs. There were skins of all sorts of ani- mals, but the most valuable were twelve fine fox skins with bushy tails. In one corner stood a barrel, and I peeped into it, although I knew it contained no water, being full of pitch used for caulking out boats. Mother called me in and bade me open the Bible at random and read. In that way our family often sought comfort and counsel in time of trouble. The leaves opened at the fifteenth chapter of Judges, at the story of Samson fastening firebrands to the tails of 300 'hundred foxes and sending them through the grain fields of the Philistines. I read, but the story seemed to give us no comfort, no suggestion. The wolves only howled louder, and the sick boy moan- ed more piteously. Mother and I were quite beside ourselves. We must get water in some way. I opened the door to look out, and a great wolf thrust his head into the room. Quickly 1 braced myself against the door, But the creature struggled vigorously and would have forced his way in, had not mother seized a burning brand from the fire place and thrown it, into his face. The wolf leaped back and I barred the door. Then I remembered that wild animals were afraid of fire, I believe/. that if I could only make some sort of large torches I could get the water in safety. But of what mate'-ial could I make my torches ? There were a few snail logs lying by the fire -place, but firewood, and white oak at that, would not make good torches. I must have something that would flare and blaze. 1 went into the shed. There was noth- ing there exeept furs. I was turning to go out, when my eyes fell upon the fox skins hanging above the barrel of pitch, and the story of Samson's foxes that I had just read darted into my head. Here were my torches! I would smear these fox tails well with pitch and how they would blaze ! Without any reluctance at all I cut off the twelve beautiful brushes. I hung a kettle of pitch over the fire, and as soon as it was soft gave the fox tails a thick coating. Then I brought out two long -handled fish shears and lapped their butt ends and then lashed then together. With pieces of the wire which father used for snares I fastened the fox tails to the iron speartines. I thus had a long pole with torches at both ends, and by lighting all the torches at once and whirring the pole around 1 could walk sur- rounded by a circle of flame. Mother insisted that I should light the torches and make a charge at the wolves to try the effect before starting to go to the spring. If the wolves ran, she was to sally out with a pail, and while I swung the tor- ches she would carry the water. I lighted the torches and stepped through the door. The wolves fled before me like frightened sheep. They stopped far off in the shadows where the light gradually faded into darkness, staring at the blaze with glistening eyes. I shook the torches at them and they scampered off so far in the darkness that I could scarcely see them. Mother stepped out with the pail and closed the door. With the roaring, flaring blazing whirling about us we hurried to the spring. We could see a crowd of wolves be- neath a tree that overhung it, some of them sitting down like dogs, some leeping up as if trying to snap at something concealed in the branches. But they fled howling, as we approached with our glaring whirling circle of flame. Mt ther had dipped the pail in the spring when plumb' a dark object dropped from the tree frightening us so that pail and torches fell from our hands. But a fami- liar voice spoke before we had tune to fly. It was father. The pack of wolves bad overtaken him just as he reached the spring, and he had sprung up the tree. There he sat within a few hundred feet of the house expecting to freeze to death if he stayed in the tree, and knowing that i; was certain death to leave it. His rifle and the sled, its contents unharmed, were at the foot of the tree. Picking up our torches in a few moments, father was warm- ing his chilled limbs before the fire, and Fred, after his drink of fresh water and his medicine, was sinking quietly to sleep. We heard the wolves all night, more or less, but we none of us minded that. SPARE MOMENTS. The average size of an A merican farm is 610 acres. Some insects are in a state of maturity thirty ruin utes-after birth. A squad of policeman in Philadelphia now rush over their beats on bicycles. Four pounds of gold have been collected from the soot of the chimney of the Royal Mint, in Berlin. There are nearly 10,000 steamships in the world, and their aggregate burden amounts i to about 10,000,00) tons. The owl is unable to move the eyeball, which is immovable fixed in the socket by a strong, elastic cartilaginous case. The frog, owing to its peculiar structure, cannot breathe with the mouth open, and if it were forcibly kept open, the creature would die of suffocation. The entire coast -line of the globe is abou t 136,000 miles. All the correspondence from the Vatican, concerning church matters is carried on in Latin. a No fewer than twenty-nine peers died during the past year, or at the rate of more Olen two a month. The standard of height in the French army has been reduced from . time to time till now it is little over five feet. One-fifth of the 10,000,000 families in France have no children. As many more have only one ehild, and of those who have as many as seven the number is only 230,000. • True Politeness. First Lady- saw your husband meet you on the street yesterday, and I noticed that he removed his hat while speaking to you. I admired him for it. Very few men do that. Second Lady—I remember ; I told him in themoroing tohave his hair cut, and he was sleoWitir nae that he had obeyed. INTERESTING ITEMS. The French still fight an average four' thousand duels a year, Mn. Gladstone thinthat Milton was the first author to sell ks manuscript. What is believed to be the highest elec- tric central station in the world is located at Pontresina, in the Swiss Alps, tee alti- tude being 6,000 feet above the sea leveL It has been reckoned that if the whole ocean should be dried up, all water passing away in vapour, the amount of salt remain- ing would be enough to cover 5,000.000 square miles with a layer one mile thick. There is a carving knife and fork in New York which is the largest set in the world. The kuife is 10i feet long and the fork 7j feet. The handles are made ort of ele• phant's tusks and are worth £160. 'together the implements are valued at £300 and and weigh 3201b. An interesting experiment is being made on some of the engines of the Greet Easters Railway Company to test the adv 1nsages of oil as a fuel in the ordinary locomotives. Several of the engines have been supplied with oil tanks, and the firemen have the option of using the oil or the coal as they think fit. Experience has shown that the men prefer the oil. It requires leas stok- ing, and produces a steadier body of steam. Money is called "sterling" becanee in the time of Richard L money coined in the east gs. o.f Germany became, on account of its purity, in especial request in England, and liwas called Easterling money, as the people of that part of Germany were called Easter - was The following advertisement appeared re' cently in an American newspaper:—" Want ed, —A young lady as Clerk of the County Court of Elbert County. It will be necete sary for her to marry the County Judge. — Address, County Judge, Elberton." There were nearly a thousand applications. There are but three places in the world where women possess the privileges of voting which are accorded to men, and they are Iceland, Pitcairn Islands, and the Isle of Man. The stock of Bank of England notes which are paid in five years fill 13,400 boxes, which if placed side by side, would reach over twe miles. If the notes themselves were placed in a pile they would reach to a height of five miles. They weigh ninety tons and re- present 1,750 millions sterling. An ingenious way of smuggling opium has been discovered by the customs officers in Puget Sound, and has evidently been going on for years. A log was sawed lengthwise, and hollowed. The halves were tbeu fast- ened together with wooden pins, and the whole filled with contraband opium. Few officers would suspect an innocent -looking log of containing two or three thousand dol- lars' worth of opium. Parents cannot name their children just what they please in Germany. By Imperial order Government functionaries are forbid- den henceforth to register any infant in a Christian name bearing the slightest relation to politics. Socialists are very fond of call- ing their children Robespierre, Lassalle, Bebel, Liebknecht, and the like, but Em- peror William objects to the practice. So the child's name must be chosen from the Bible, the Calendar of Saints or from the roll of princes and national heroes. The principal Receiving -house of the Royal Humane Society is in Hyde Park, and those who would wish to see the apparatus employed in rescuing the drowning would do well to pay it a visit ; boats, laddsrs, ropes and poles, wicker -boats, buoys, life - preserving apparatus, baths, beds, and all. the requisite paraphernalia are there ; while those who wish to see the Society's meq at work should go to the parks when the ice only just bears, and watch the movement of the men when the cry of " Man in 1" rings through the frosty air. The chief officer of the Glasgow ship Past of Levy was, according to mail news just re- ceived from Honolulu, lying in the hospital there in a critical state, through his bravery in saving the life of a fellow -creature, When the Pass of Leny was near Cape Horn, one of the crew, a lad, fell overboard into the sea. The mate instantly leaped into the sea and caught the drowning youth. He held him up until a boat was launched and came up, but by this time they es ere both in a very exhausted state. The lad soon re- covered, but the brave mate remained p'o strated, and when the vessel arrived at Honolulu he was carried ashore and taken to the hospital. His condition at the time the despatch was sent off was said to be very erious. How to use Stale Bread. Stale bread is far too useful in the kitchen for there to be any difficulty for utilizing it. To begin with there are bread crumbs. These are much nicer for many puddings it baked in the oven till crisp, then pounded, sifted, and stored for use in air -tight bottles. rhe bread -crumbs can he allowed to color or not, according -to the purpose for which they are wanted. For frying no one knows until they have tried them the difference these crisp, even crumbs make both in the appearance and taste of the things fried in them. It is to the care they bestow on their br€adcrumbs, or chapelure, that the French in great measure owe the success of their frying. These crumbs also make an excellent pudding in this way : Soak four ounces of bread -crumbs in a pint of boiling milk, beating them well together, and add- ing two whole eggs lightly beaten, a grate of nutmeg the same of lemon peel, and sugar to taste, Spread the bottom with any kind of jam and pour the bread crumbs, milk, etc., over it and uake till brown. Then, have you tried bread souffle ? For this boil half a pint of -new milk, flavoring it with stick vanilla or lemon peel, as you prefer. Pour this when boiling on two or three good slices of bread divested of all crust, and when this has steeped for a few minutes beat it till quite light with a silver fork ; add to this, after removing the vanil- la, about a dessertspoonful of sugar (the less sugar you use the lighter your souffle will be), one ounce of butter, and the yolks of three eggs, one at a time, beating each separately,into the mixture. At the best mix in lightly the whites of the eggs, whipped to the stiffest possible froth, and pour the mixture into a well -papered souffle dish, add some morsels of butter on the top, and bake in not too hot an oven for thirty-five to forty minutes. Serve at once, dusted with a little sugar. He Hadn't Got the Addre s. An Irishman once caught a hare, and Joy- fully carried him home in a basket, think- ing of the pleasant meal he would presently make. On his way, however, he indiscreet- ly lifted the lid, just to look at his captive, who, seizing this favorable opportunity, jumped out of the basket, and made off as quickly as possible. The Irishman regarded the vanishing hare for a moment, and then exclaimed "Faith! and you may rin as hot as yer loike; but ye won't get 'ome Mf t, . 3hsee, 'cause ye ain't got the addr/' wad ;fewer AJ Hunting th "A buffal browsing th lion. A tr him ; but u you can atm into hint he The spea man, who fo lived in the adviee and He : d sw,u had lived a owned a lar engaged ext there was a largely en_:+ I es.' h flying as if chickens, a thoroucitl, And when ungainly. Just a a'ong here v. r ,Led a 1, 3).00 (3 hof' l 1 aar,n1i he til,ne.... c,u•ti: 01 )':-)'.ne.:t. ti)e,1i. as 1 he e:at-t:: all s're^tn tic_ c w n'D t, i. ea now. iia to lied come fro clad rush. " It seemed speed ,il:;eke number of eyes roiled y, their open m approach ami hel,iud-a roc watched wit sweep of this torments of a p received its the stream i there would for a brief n reached. "I had w river -bed qui ,rnt, whose boiled up to result of hea I concluded this turbule channels of t and quite fit conclusions when the I they plunge themselves w lar injury fro cent. Becau and weighing most a preci a tumble wit much like a up at the bot them that p ting the best water first. " For this compact mas momentum siderations fo not of sufficie entertained check its mo they tumbled after rank, u of a mile w them. " Yes, the the stop so s observation black wave w len higher eh was rolling o undertow. behind, the bank had to ahead for the tolled over an opposite ban that fatal con to great num " The rush herd widened ing up and tumbled into stream rapidl in an almost every buffalo not suppose t that were se rerr arkable, t which used to " Hunting To an old h i mple affair. life the coni about all the came to be event. " I want to way in whi slaughtered which always when it is ref these grand of ed of the bru work of many " I remem down near th early spring o camp was be One afternoon ing to wing the river, wh and where the I was unable of their prese myself and in I concluded night. The ducks was mac significant pa man ; for their) herd of buffal windward, and of being scents " Hastily eel remaining fronn Luck favored i, tine line of a -:waters when gi river. This le and circuitous herd. I was si pony picked hi As I came neat rippling sound made as they t sod. " I had not i I determined to a charge upon expectedly inti lowered away, of the cows tit in that direct their heads an others was dra It sharp snort, :seagenerel stamp plunged. It s =Y. -pvny ug a yln-g