F.
5,
iy
Forsa =ing all Others
AMELIA DUGH~MIN ~
CHAPTER XI.-- (Continued.)
No one ever knew what passed in
lbat ~nterview. Harvey briefly told
hk wife he had begged for forgiveness
~nd gained it, but the old relations
between Gl~dys and himself would
never be renewed--she was through
With the life of which he had been a
p0~. When Helen throw herself in
his arms in a passion of grief for hav-
i~g done him hurt while striving only
for his benefit, he kissed her sadly. It
was all a mistake, he said; he had
~been the more culpable of the two.
Together they would take up life un-
der the new conditions, never allud-
ing to the errors of the past.
He was very kin.d, very gentle; but
there was that in his manner and look
Which told her Harvey, the boy, was
dead, to make way for the grave, al-
most stern man who henceforth walk-
ed by her side through life, affection-
ate and true, yet with the ineffable
f~fagality that tinges the humblest mar-
e with romance forever stricken
om his love.
Within a year after her departure
~ys was married to a man slightly
Junior, whose wealth doubled hers.
er beauty and vivacity made her the
e~ter of a wide social circle, and hav-
/~ been shut away from city pleas-
,~trQa so long she enjoyed them now
.With childlike enthusiasm• Engrossed
a bewildering happy present the
~t became to her a dream, and after
the arrival of her first chlld, a half
fOrgotten one.
The house in Rockville was sold,
and long years passed before she again
caw Harvey. In the careworn man
With stooping shoulders she found it
diffiCUlt to recognize her once hand-
SOme boy. He was only forty, but
|lie had gone bard with him. There
Were many mouths to feed at home,
and all Helen's thrift could not make
~ve dollar do more than the work of
O. •
I~ug ago Gladys had wholly forgot-
~tten her grievances, but not the af-
rOUen for which she had sacrificed
ao m~h. Even now, though she had
laa~y e~ns of her own, she loved her
Unfortunate boy too well to allow him
~o endure anything approaching pri-
vation, and with her husband's assist-
~ee secured to Harvey an annuity
aat~cient to pl~ce him and his family
1tell above need. Phebe, an old worn-
then, grumbled when the news
tOld her; but really she was
even her anger could not en-
forever. And Harvey had been
boy as well as Gladys'.
Be all were in their way happy and
t~t~ubtent~all but one. It is hard for
e covetous soul to come near to for-
Yet never grasp R; and even
When better days had dawned, and
~ant was forever set at bay, the bit-
knowledge that she had doomed
r husband to a struggle with por-
te,that robbed him of youth and
. -and ambition was wl~h Helen
&therton all the days of her life.
(The End.)
White Feather
There is no need to mention the
~e of his regiment here. That is a
that belongs to the army alone.
it to say that his comrades are
of his name.
should never have entered the
at all, much less a hard riding
regiment which had a reputa-
to sustain by a yearly tribute of
necks and 'collar bones.
proper vocation was that of a
draper's assistant, and he had
that occupation very satisfactory
one evil day he had fallen in love
a girl, a silly, shallow girl, at
no practical man or boy would
taken a second look.
L'e adored her, and she adored sol-
~iers. Ih their walks abroad she would
|lrect his steps toward the Horse
or Wellington barracks, that
might gaze in admiration at the
!
strapping soldiers who were to
there, and every time she
arm and exclaimed: "Oh,
lee, k, look at that lovely soldier!" his
~l~t gave him a pang at the thought
he was only a draper's assistant,
lth nothing in common with the
lUllitary but the handling of red cloth!
~Ie was a dreamer by nature, and fall-
[~gAn love did not lessen his weak-
~eas in this, direction. Dreaming is
Pardonable in a poet, but an unpardon-
tble crime in a linen draper's assist-
~t, and as he stood at his counter his
~ailld was far away from his work. In-
Read of listening to the "Forward!"
he could only hear
word of command and
blare of the bugles that sounded
his dreams; wherefore it was'
long before he came into conflict
his practical chief. A few sharp
passed. He threw up in three
a position it had taken six
unremitting labor to at-
Then he enlisted.
gained his title on his first dis-
in the riding school, where, after
Short ride on the neck of~the riding
~tsr's' pet buck Jumper, he turned
u¢.athly pale and cried aloud that he
U~ht be allowed to dismount.
The horse at once gratified his desire
by throwing him on to the tan, where
hs in every limb, much
~y
trembling
diversion of a couple of rough
who were standing by. They
inform their respective
|
and, his former occupation
being known, he was promptly chris-
tened White Feather.
In those dark days it was the Joy
of the more hardy recruits to take him
aside solemnly and request the service
of three-pence three farthings worth
of white feathers• Any morsel of
down or fluff that might float into the
barracks was promptly captured and
presented to him with due ceremonies
by Trumpeter Pipes, the low comedian
of the regiment.
The older men forbore to Join in
with these somewhat tiring repetitions
of a stale Joke• They remembered
their own experiences in the riding
school ' and recognized that White
Feather was a quiet and inoffensive
fellow, devoid of the impudence and
bad manners peculiar to recruits and
respectful and helpful to his seniors,
The sergeant instructor, too, after a
time took a fancy to his timid recruit,
and took extra trouble to teach him
how to keep hls heels out, his hands
down and his head up.
"I've made smart cavalrymen out o'
bigger duffers than you," he used to
remark encouragingly as he flicked
White Feather's horse into a canter,
"and I'll make a rider o' you, or I'll
break your neck!" White Feather's
neck remained unbroken so it Is to be
presumed that the sergeant Instructor
fulfilled his word,
Presently he began to lose the hang-
dog look of suppressed terror with
which he had been accustomed to en-
ter the riding school and to acquire
the easy swagger of a cavalryman. His
chest, contracted by long hours at the
counter, developed under healthy train-
ing. Fresh air and much exercise
helped White Feather's development,
which had been sadly retarded by the
heavy, gas-laden atmosphere in which
he had lived. His nerves acquired tone.
and he learned to take a tumble now
and then as a matter of course and to
fire his carbine without shutting his'
eyes and blanching at the explosion of
the cartridge.
"Blow me, if he isn't going to shape
into a man at lastV' quoth the ser-
geant instructor.
Then a great blow fell upon' him. He
received one morning a letter from
the girl to tell him that she had given
him up in favor of a shopwalker who
had expectations of being set up in
business by his father. She admitted
that she had adored soldiers'and that
she had caused him to enter the
army for her sake. But she had
omitted to state that the soldiers she
adored were soldiers who possessed the
Queen's commission and who wore
stars instead of a worsted strJl~e.
If poor White Feather was a physi-
cal coward, he was a moral hero. There
is no chance of a display of feeling in
a barrack room so, like the Spartan
boy of old, he hugged his trouble to
him, slipping the cheap little engage-
ment ring with which he had sealed
his troth into his pocket without a
sign beyond the twitching of his white
lips. Then he lit his pipe with the
letter, not out of contempt, but because
there is little privacy accorded In the
correspondence that comes to the bar-
rack room, and a private soldier is not
p~ovided with a desk wherein to keep
his faded flowers and other sentimen-
tal tokens of the past.
The blow was a very heavy one, for
White Featl~er was without the world-
ly knowledge that should have told
him long since that he had fixed his
affections upon a vulgar, selfish and
brainless flirt, and he still believed in
her.
For her sake he had learned to over-
come his physical cowardice• He had
dreamed of a possible commission in
the dim future and had rejoiced in the
recently acquired promotion as a step
toward her.
For her sake, too, he received the
news cheerfully when the word passed
through the barracks that the regi-
ment was ordered to South Africa to
meet the Boers, He knew that he was
by nature a coward, but for the mem-
ory of her he swore an oath to him-
self to do his duty without sparing
himself in the coming fight•
$ * $~ $ * S S
"Look 'ere, old chap, we ain't going
to call you White Feather no more!"
said Trumpeter Pipes as they lay to-
gether behind the shelter of a lai"ge
bowlder, against the face of which the
Boer bullets were pattering like a
heavy rain.
In full sight of the whole army their
squadron had crossed the Boer front
amid a hail of bullets which had
brought 20 men to earth.
White Feather's horse had been shot
under him, and, at the risk of his life,
he had carried the wounded trumpeter
into the shelter of the bowlders. He
was unhurt, but trembled in every limb
from fear and great exertion•
From between two bowlders he
peeped out and saw, amid the bodies
of men and horses that littered the
plain, a wounded man crawling on his
hands and knees amid a spatter of
bullets that were kicking puffs of dust
from the dry earth all around him. It was his captain.
White Feather watched him for a
moment; then he saw him stop and
lie down on his side despairingly, He
could crawl no more.
"I will. for her sake:" He murmured
between his clenched teeth, and, rising
from the shelter of the rock, he faced
the hail of death that pattered to the
earth aromid him.
As he walked into the open a faint
cheer reached his ears from the Brit-
ish troops half a mile behind him. The
Royal artillery ~acked him with •
shrieking flight of shrapnel, which
whistled for a moment overhead, then
burst over the Boer lines' a quarter of
a mite away in a shower of bullets
that for a moment quelled the storm
around him.
He reached the wounded man, lifted
him on his back and returned step by
step to where Trumpeter Pipes lay
hidden.
The trumpeter gave him a faint~
"Bravo:" as he staggered and fell with
his burden into the kindly shelter of
the rock.
Tl~at was White Feather's reward.
On a distant hill the British com-
mander shut his field glasses with a
snap.
"Tell the general to keep down the
fire on the right there and get those
men in from behind those bowlders,"
he said to his aid, "and bring me that
man's name. If he is alive, tell him~
that I saw It all and that I'm going
to recommend him for the cross. Never
saw a finer show of fire discipline in
my life!" added the commander to
himself as his' aid galloped off.
White Feather's eyes glistened as he
received the meesa~ and heard the
cheer that swept along the lines as
he was carried in.
"Perhaps I shall get that commis-
sion after all," he said to himself;
"then she will think more of reel"
Perhaps' it was Just as well that he
died five minutes later--this faithful
worshiper of a goddess of clay.
THRIFTY FEMALES.
There are Many Remunerative OOeul~-
tions for Women.
One thrifty woman who had watched
the vegetables and fruit rotting day
by day at her grocer's, and which were
a dead loss to him, proposed that they
enter into an arrangement in the fu-
ture whereby she should preserve and
pickle his entire surplus, either for
regular pay or upon commission, in the
latter case he furnishing the sugar and
spices. Another woman, with sharp
business Instincts, a butcher's wife,
made up soup stoc, k, and found a ready
sale for it to many overworked hotwe-
keepers, Still another, who knew but
one thing thoroughly, and that was
cookery, called every morning at cer-
tain physicians offices and formed a list
of families in which sickness prevailed.
To these families she offered to come
every day for an hour or so and pre-
pare in their own homes mutton broth,
beef extract, chicken jelly, panada,
gruels, fruit and herb drinks, wine
whey, custard, etc., furnishing her
time and labor cheaper than the arti-
cles could be bought at restaurants or
women's exchanges. Some women are
specialists in one branch, such as
handkerchief embroidering, lamp-
shade making, fan painting, feather
curling, glove cleaning, and the like,
or can make beautiful neck scarfs, or
launder fine laces. Such can easily
make their specialty pay, some by the
aid of friends, some by the patronage
of dealers in such goods, some by a
house to house canvass made by them-
selves. A young girl in one of the large
eastern cities was recently puzzled by
finding herself left almost helpless and
homeless, with no talent in any one
direction. There was but one thing of
which she never tired, and that was
of children, all of whom seemed to
adore her; so this young girl went out
at so much an hour to amuse sick and
irritable children. Many a worn-out
mother found her presence a most
grateful repose. She was indefatigable
in inventing new games and perfecting
old ones, and her naturally retentive
memory came also to her aid as a
story-teller. It is the woman who takes
advantage of opportunities, the woman
who can plan as well as execute, whom
the world wants and for whom it will
push its ranks apart to ma~e place.
GHOST SHIP.
Spectral Vssnol Turns Out To Be ~ ]ff~--
veloUs Phenomenon,
The American clipper ship Luzon,
from the Hawaiian islands with a
full cargo of sugar, had a strange ex-
perience after rounding the horn.
When off the barren Staten land, in
good weather, and with scarcely an@'
sea on, the lookout reported a sail• It
was a~out an hour before sunset. Al-
though the Luzon was almost becalm-
ed, the vesseLslghted was under close-
reefed topsails. This made the Luzon's
mate think a storm was bearing down
on him, and he speedily shortened
sail. Rapidly the stranger came pear-
er, and it could be seen that she was
partially dismasted forward. In the
meantime, however, the expected squall
did not make its advent• The strange~
ship passed so close that it seemed as
though a biscuit might be thrown on
board. Still her crew paid not the
slightest attention to the Luzon. On
the latter consternation prevailed. The
appearance of the storm-tossed vessel
was so uncanny that the Luzon's men
were beside themselves with terror.
Not until it dawned upon Capt. Park
that the other ship was a part of the
phenomenon known as the "fata mor-
gana," where a vessel is reflected a
great distance, could he restore any-
thing like order among the men. The
most remarkable feature of the inci-
dent developed three weeks later.
When the Luzon was nearing the,
equator she passed the Russian ship,
Komisafoff, bound south, and her men
had no difficulty in identifying her
with the mirage they had witnessed.
She had the same distinctive lines, and,
sure enough, her foremast had been
broken off close to the foretop, a Jury-
mast taking the place of the missing
spar. She had been reflected at least
1,000 miles, and the gt~rm which the
Luzon's men ha~ observed had prob-
ably wrought the damage.--Philadel.
phia North American.
~landty Jane. the woman Indian fight-
er, hunter, ~co~tt, poker l~la,yer, and miner,
the friend of all ehe old-time famous sol-
diers of the plai~s, and the heroine of a
dozer~ lurid novels o~ the klnd t%a~ sell
fo~ a nickel, is to end her melodramatic
car~r in a.n all, shout. A dl$1~atch from
Butte, Mont., a few days ago said that
C~larn~ty J~ne had been admitted to the
Jal~atin county poorhouse, and that ~e
expects to end her days ~here.
Calaxnlty Jane is not yet an old woman
as far as years ~¢o, being only forty-elght.
Bu,t ghe has outlived a dozen husban~Ls.
and the hard an~ exciting life she led in
the Black Hills and in the o'z~er mlnln~
camps of the West ,h~tve aged her long
before her t~me, When the doors of the
Galh~tin county poorhouse clo~e t~pon her
the~e will disappear from the stage one
of ~ most ptoturesque characters that
i~he thrilling c~ays of the frontier states
seer produced.
C~l~nlty Jane has rm other name. She
se~d she never had a~y other. "flees
Catam'ty Jane," sl~e used to say when
peopde questioned her about her name.
"Jess Calarn'ty Jane. and folks gineraly
oalls me Calam'ty fer chert. I ain't got
P~o n~ore edlcatlon nor a buff'lo, en I aln't
p~tty much, I 'low. but I can about a
rifle with the be~t of 'em anal I've killed
Its n~any InJuns as the next man."
Celebrity Jane, like Dr, Mary Walker,
atway~ w~rn men's clothing. It is
dott~tful if she ever ~ a skirt on in her
life, £0r even when a small girt her parents
dressed her in ~lothing cut down from the
old unlforff~ that the soldiers wore at
the fort. She ~ always a~soclated wlt~
men and lived a man's life, and about the
only pl~ce whe~ her "femininity cropped
out w~s In the matter of l~aving hus-
band~ She has l~ved ~II over the West.
:Her home was o~iginally near Butte, and
she Ires ~lways dH~ted back there after a
few years spent at various etcher Western
towns. But Deadwood wn~ the place she
loved, aRd her r~ame is ~trongly inter-
w~ven with the early days of that c~ty.
Calamity Jane was born In Missouri. but
when she was a small chdld her parents
Journeyed in prairie schooners across the
plains to a small mining to~vn near the
spot on which the city of Butte is now
built. Cal~mity's parents died when she
was nine years old. and she was left with
no one to ,take care of her. The soldiers
• at the fort, which stood there in thoce
d#ys had alwayn been fond of the child,
and they adopted her after a fashion,
paying an old woman to board her and
sending her fantastic clothing to wear.
She wa~ always around with the soldier
men. and they taugh.t her to ride and
shoot and also to gam,bls and s~ear.
The old woman who was supposed to
take care of Calamity paid the child but
little attention .and Calamity turned her
attention to "rustlin' "' for her own food•
She u~ed to steal rides on stage coaches
and go out and camp with the Indians
for weeks at a time. says the Chicago
Tribune, and was especially fond of
hanglng around s~loons and being stood
up on the bar and asked to Sing for the
rough crowd of soldiers, tra!~pers, and
miners who thronged those places. Alto-
gether Calamlty's early life w~ singular-
ly devoid of those gentle influences which
are generally supposed to be quite essen-
tial to the prosper training of a child.
at the fort near Butte were ordered to
proceed ~to Deadwood to rescue a large
party of miners who were besieged by the
Indians. Calam.ity. dressed like a man.
volunteered to act as a scou~, and was
taken along by Capt. Egan. the com-
manding officer of the expedition, who
was ignorant of the fact tha~ Calamity
was a woman• All the Indians in the
,N'orthwest were at that time on the w~r-
path and the soldiers had several hard
fights on the way to Leadville. In one
action, when the troop was chargPag the
| Indians and had engaged tn a fierce hand
to hand battle, Capt, Egan was wounded
and tumbled from his horse• Two" In-
dians were riding fiercely down on "-he
prostrate man to scalp him when Cat-
mmlty Jane killed one of them and. be-
fore the other could clo~e in, had picked
up the unconscious captain, and, throw-
Ing his body across her saddle bow,
dashed away with him and reached the
main body of troops in s~fety•
When Capt. Egan recovered conscious-
ness he found out that his brave rescuer
was a woman• She was known at this
time merely as Jane, in spite of the fact
that she will not acknowledge ever hav-
ing an ordinary name.
"Well, Jane," said the captain, blinking
up through the bandages over his face,
"you're a good one to have around In
times of calamity." The sotdlers Imme-
diately nicknamed the girt Calaentty Jane,
and that title she has borne ever since,
Calamity after tb2s In, dent went out
with a good many different parties of
soldiers oh the t~ail after the Indians
and won renown for her bravery and her
splendid shooting. She w'as wl'th Buffalo
l~ll on many of h/s hunting trips and had
a record of the rmmber of buffaloes e'he
had killed. After the Indian wars she
became a trapper, and then a miner and
washed gold at Deadwood and all through
the Black HLl~ and in Men,tab.a. and at
variol~ times had large st~rn~ of money,
which she spent in the same way the
other miners did in these d~ys. She
played in many a stiff ~ame of poker
anr w~n /.rid lost large auras. She could
drink as stiff a gla.-~s of the firewater
they used to call whisky In the mining
towns as any man did. She wore leather
trousers and army blue shirts and a buck-
skin e~t worked by the Indians. She
never sought a quarrel, but ]~ever would
go more than a thousand miles out of
her way to avoid one. and was quick to
avenge any insult to ~er sex.
Ten years or more ago dime novel writ-
era began using Calwmity Jane as the
heroine of their tales, and small boys of
that period read with breathless interest
of the nmnber of °'eurse~ redskins" that
bit the dust at the crack of Calaml.ty's
unerring rifle. There were any number
of these stories woven around Calamity
and they bore lurid titles. There were
"Calamity Jane and the Great Deadwood
Mystery;" Calarrdty Jane's Double, or the
Rival Indian Slayers of Redwood Can-
yon;" Calamity Jane's Last Card. or the
Bloody Murder of Poker Gulch." and
"'Ca~aralty Jane's Revenge, or the Girl
Scout's Great Triumph." There were
many others with .titles of the same red
color. All the stories were about of the
same high order of llterarF excellence.
Here is a sample Paragra~)h from the
celebrated classic known tb messenger
Rival Indian Slaye~ of Redwood Ca~.
yon:"
" 'It's too late.' said Da~haway Jim, as
he threw his now useless rifle on the
gro£~nd. 'We have not a shot left, and
the curseed redskins will be on us ,a &
minute.'
"EEzabeth gave ~t scream and tl/re~
herself by her mother's side.
"The Indians had drawn together in a
group and seemed to be parleying•
"Then they turned their horses' heard~
toward the fugitives, and. lashing their
horses into a gallop, rode madly for-
Weird.
"Half-breed Bill. with a wicked smile
on h~s face, led the charge.
" 'There is one more s'hot in my pistol.*
said Dashaway Jim. 'I can save YOU,
girl, from that scoundrel."
• " 'Yes.' screamed Elizabeth. 'better dl*
at your hands than fall into the clutche~
of that wretch."
"Dashaway Jim raised his pistol, where
suddenly the ringing crack of a rifle was
heard. The Indians paused,
"Four of thean tumbled to the earth.
shot through the head•
"' 'Damnation[' yelled Half-breed Bill.
and he tried t~o drive the Indians for-
ward.
"Suddenly the figure of a girl on a b~
black horse dashed straight into the
crowd of terrified redskins. She held the
reins of her horse in her mouth.
"She had a pistol in each hand.
"Six more Indians tumbled from their
saddles.
°' 'It's Calamttyy Jane:' yelled Dash-
away JlnL '~'e kre saved.'
"The Indians turned and fled. l~alf-
breed B~ll d~sappeared in a cleft of tl~
mounta~n~.
"Calamity Jane, with her drlppt~
bowie knife in her b~tt, rode up and
lifted her hat.
"' 'Good evening,' she said. 'I hope I
don't in~ude.'
"Dashaway Jim went ou~ to coun~ the
dead Indians."
An interview with Calamity Jane w~ts
published in the Illustrated American m
few years ago. She then lived in Dead-
wood with husband number eight or nine
. n~med Baker. In reply to a question she
sa~d: "We're on our way East now. I'll
tell you how I honestly m~rried this here
galoot. Had to ~o clear to Texas to get
him. Nobody 'ud have me here. We've
been trying to live decent. Had a ranch
out In Montana. Then we lived In a log-
gin' camp and tried to keep boarders.
Boarders didn't pay up ve~ well and we
Jumped the caxRp, Went into town. Got
proper~y, but the boom busted and left
us busted, too. I'vs got lots of chances
to go into shows and the like In the East.
~ut I guess not."
~hen the visitors went away Calamity
broke down and cried and said: °'I'm so
glad you've come. It seems so good to
talk to somebody decent. I've been tough
and lived a bad life. and like all them
that makes mistakes I see It when It's
too lkte. I'd like to be respectable, but
nobody'll notice me. They say, 'That's
just ole Calamity Jane,' and I've b~!
enough woman left ~bout me so that i!
Jess cuts, me to the h~trt•"
But poor old Calamdty Jane has at last
turned her hack on ~ll of her old-tlm~
glory and gone "over the hills to th~
When she was t~renty-two the soldiers boys ms "Calaznlty Jane's D'ouble, or the
:J Fricnd i
ea,.er a man stuck his head m• ere
were
other men behind him.
Queer Acquaintance Made by a
New Yorker in D~kot~,. [
I
• he New York man bowed to an im-
mense red-faced man who w~s Jus~J
leavtn~ the bar. The red face beamed[
until i¢ outshone t~e huge dia~ntond stuck
In the scarlet cravat, qMd the silk hat~
came off with a ~weep.
"'Who's your fat friend?" asked the
Boston man wl~o had been invited to
&rink at the New York man's expense,
~bcoording to the Sun.
'"He calls hlmeetf W~lson now. I've an
idea he opens the directory and chooses
a new name whenever it seems advisable.
I knew him twenty-five years ago .in a
little Dakota town, and he was doing
business under the name of Johnson
theui~Blll Johnson, grain buyer and
tinhorn gambler.
"I was a y~ung fallow and new to the
~est, bu*t was trying to hold dow~. a
'lumber yard for a Chicago fl~n, One]
night I was in the office late wrestling
~l,th a trial b.alance when the back
door ~pened and in rushed the queerest
looking object I'd ever seen. It looked
like a featherbed on a spree and cut loose
from'its Cover. Naturally I Jumped up
and ffr~bbed the thlns~ nearest my hand,
which was the big ~nk well, but Just
then a votes ca~e out through the
feathers.
"For God's sake, man, d~n't make the
mess worse. Hide me scene~v~ere. I'm
a friend of Mr. A's.'
"Now Mr. A~ was my bo~s, and I
didn't kno~ much a~bou,t h~s friends, B~lt
if this was a specimen of thean I didn't
like his tastes. Just then there wa~ a
noise out~lde and the feathered biped
plunfed undt" the counter in the dark
iattie ba~ oflk~, ~ door elias1 and
poorhouse."
su!~pose he's a flash crook, hut I've an
"See anything of a tarred and feather.
ed scroundrel? He ran down this way,
and we've got some more business with
him.'
"I didD't know anything about the
row, but it doesn't seem natural to give
a man away, so I Hod. and the crowd
~er~t on down the 'street. Then I plck-
ed the queer bird out from under the
counter.
"They had used him pretty hard and
he was scared half to death. He in-
sisted that he knew Mr. A~ well and
could get '~elp from ntm If he were
there. I suppose the soamp deserved
lynchlvg, but I was always a fool. So.
finally, I h~tc~hed up my horse and
buggy, wrapped the vnan up In some ~f
my old clothes, and drove him across the
country to a town on the other
radlroad where he he/J friends who took
him in.
"He cut the country after that and I
never heard of him untli almost two
Years later, when I got a note warning
me that I'd better draw out all the
money I had in the little barrk there In
t~wn. I didn't know wheat to think,
but I drew out the money JuSt for luck;
and I'm blamed if the cas~hier didn't
abscond the next day with every~dollar
the ~an~ held.
"Some years adpo T came to New York
to tire. The first person I met in the
Fifth Avenue hotel was my old Dakota
frfeud, minus the ~ar and feathers and
plus a checked ~ut.t and a silk hat. He
knew me like a shot.
" 'You got your money o~t of the
bank. all right?' he said.
" 'Did you send me that note?'
" 'Sure thing. I was in the deal, but
I didn't like ~o see you hit. I owed
you a good turn. Don't believe It's all
paid off yet.'
"He never hem anythlnE to ~ay to me,
but h0 alway| look~ ~ad to see mS. I
idea that if I needed a tittle money I
cottld borrow ~t from him m~>re easily
than from any of my Wall ~treet
friends."
Labor in ~i~.
The~,,book entitled "The Real Chinese
Question," by ~he~¢ter Holcombe, lon~
connected with the diplomatic servloe o~
the United States in Pekin. Presents in
its Introd, uctlon some of the little under-
stood phases of the Chinese oharacter.
Our misunderstanding of them is hardl~
less than thedrs of us. He says: "They
need machines to make work. not to ~tve
it." A reviewer of the book In the New
York Evening Post illustrates this epi-
gram by an amusing exl)erlence of his
own, He was witch a Chicago manu-
facturer of machinery when he persuade~
the native superintendent of a f~etory
in Hankow to purchase a machlne'Wh~c~
wotfld save nine-tenths o~ the labor In
a certain process. When the factory wa~
vL~lted e~gain three years afterward, th~
lrmchine ~ there, but still In its or'~nal
packing case, The superintendeht s~ld:
"It is meet valuable where it is. Point-
ing to it. with a threat of putting it in
operation, strikes with p~nie and puts
an end to all labor tro~bles with opera-
tires." Labor saving devices in that
country mean, for the time being, starve- ,
tl0n. The reviewer tells of a "steam-
boat without any engine," the wheels be-
ing set at work by fifty or more men
working in a sort of trea~mdll that cov-
ered half the deck, Buch pictures affo~d~
the Pr~l~etic a vision of what m~t~ k~
when these millions of pauper labor~ra
are freely available in their cm~n country
for do4ng the rr~anufacturlng of the r~
of the wo~ld.--Boston Herald.
Railways use up over 2,000,000 tmm~
of steel per year--~lmost half tl~
world's product.
