Evening Star Newspaper, August 12, 1893, Page 7

IN DAHOMEY LAND. An Interesting and Attractive Vil- lage at the World’s Fair, SOHETHING ABOUT THE KINGDOM. Barbarous Practices When Cele- brating the ** King’s Customs.” AMAZONIAN SOLDIERS. MONG THE MOST interesting of the at- tractions in the mid- way plalsance at the world’s fair is the Dahomeyvillage This consists of thirty ative houses with @ population of sixty- nine people, thirty- one of them Ama- zon soldiers, Here are shown native manufactures and in- dustries, such as Weaving, goldsmith Work and blacksmithing, besides a museum of native arms. But interesting as all thts ts, it conveys but an imperfect idea of what the Dahomeyans really are. To a Sreat many people even the location of the country is unknown. The kingdom of Dahomey ts in Upper Guinea, on the slave coast of Africa. Its Present area is supposed to be about 4,000 Square miles; it was once considerably larger, but unsuccessful wars with neigh- boring tribes have muck reduced its ex- tent. When not fighting, the people are mostly engaged in farming. Ivory and gold are plentiful, Whydah is the principal coast town, with a population of about 20,000. {bout seventy or eighty miles inland from Whydah is Abomey, the capital and the oMcial headquarters of the king. Abomey is a straggiing town. surrounded by ditches filled with brush and clay walls pierced ai intervals witk gates. These gates are In Dairs, one for ordinary use the other ex- Clusively for the entrance and exit of the king. At the gates are posted sentinels, Who will allow no one to enter the city without the King’s permission. Once in- side, the town is found to consist mostly of mud houses, scattered about without much _preten fo arrangement, though the main thoroughfare is about 100 feet Wide and leads to a central square and market place, on which ts located military barracks. The city is five or six miles in circumference and not being very closely built. includes within its walls a number of farms. The Palace, Abome The king's palace 1s only distinguishable from other houses by its greater size and te Jocationyin a vast inclosure or court- yard. Clos@ to the palace is an immense circular tent made of velvet and silk. This is the harem where the monarch’s four or five bundred wives reside. Surrounding the large tent are numerous small tents, and Seattered about the spacious grounds are a great number of gold and silk embroidered umbrellas, some of them twenty feet in diameter. These are gifts from ihe neigh- boring potentates, wealthy subjects and traders. It might be well to state here that the king is a most absolute despot and all Within his domains can own property but his sufferance. When subjects are pre- sented to the king they are obliged to pros- trate themselves and cover their heads with dust, thus testifying what worms of the earth they are in the presence of his sable majesty. White men are usually per- mitted to come into the ro presence without complying with this requirement of court etiquette. Women are also exempt from tt. The Dahomeyans are fond of excitement and display, thus the reception of foreign visitors is often made the occa: great demonstration of the k power and glory. A review of his troops is held, the through various evolutions and fire off thelr guns, the kir re brought from a building asury and two or three hundred bearers carry them about the town for several hours to afford everybody the opportunity of beholding his wealth and importance. The presents he has received include every imaginable ar- ticle; pianos, French mirrors, sewing ma- chines, oll paintings, vases, crockery, clocks, models of ships anda vast accumulation of worthless things valued be their use is unknown. The king himself sometimes parades around his court yard a number of times, each time in a different kind of vehicle. ‘The Dahomeyans are ever on the lookout for gifts. The king and his dignitaries ex- pect a present whenever a visit is paid hem. The king himself makes presents to his visitors when he thinks anything can be gained by so doing. They generally con- sist of bottles of wine. or trade rum, or gin, the latter two articles usually of a very de- tructive character. Most of the Dahomey- ans are more or less hard drinkers, some of them keeping !n 2 constant state of inebri- ation. On every public occasion drinking strong Mquor plays a prominent part in the proceedings. The king never permits any one outside of his immediate household to see him take a drink. When in public he 8 some of his attendants h tn front of him to conceal his person while imbibing. An American paid a visit to Abomey, a few years ago and descrives ad-ja-hoong, the then King of Dahomey, as “a tall, well- Built negro. of about forty.” dressed in a ort gown of blue silk. reaching to his kenees and covered with silver half moons, stars and spangles, about the size of a half a smoking cap of red vel- old lace and having in front oss bones. On his fect were gold laced sandals, hig legs bare. He held in his hand a sceptre of pure gold, sur- 4 by a red skull—the skull being the of Dahomey. many years before, as having little i-ja-hoong had . He 4 Arabic, Hebrew, ethiopic. A: Portuguese be- sides his native language. He ts also repre- sented as employing a reader, who re bua German and French books, transi evidently more fs said to have m as he r There are schools tn Dahomey and some of the natives have written books. engros=- ine them on En: The ming is said to ted, but what Mterary. val may possess the | writer {3 unable to st The king's privat band is a most re- markable organization. It consists of twenty-two or more n each provided with a leg of wood, varying in size from One quite small upto one requiring | made three assaults on the it. Each log has one end TERE On the, Ground. the other, ea by a small wooden ti The ve each a wooden hammer, these tack ham: Tanging from one the size of mer to @ two-hended sledge. With these hammers the men beat upon the logs, pro- ducing a very odd cont! of sounds, Which needs to be heard at a distance to be properly appreciated by the civilized ear. The natives, however, are charmed with th’s anvil chorus, probably because of its .eafening din.’ The Dahomeyans have other musical instruments, such as cymbals, drums and horns, but the ham- mer band is a favorite. The dress of the men generally consists of a breech cloth, a short pair of drawers and a body cloth ten to twelve feet in length by four to six in breadth, worn like the ancient toga. ‘he women wear a loin cloth held up usually by a belt of glass beads, the mem- bers of the court circle adding a cloth to cover the upper part of the body. They tattoo themselves, ly their stom- achs, with crude’ designs in rellef. ‘They such as anklets, also wear ornaments, bracelets, &c. Dahomey is a very fertile country, abounding in corn, cassava (a substitute for read), Yams, some of which grow to an enormous size; sweet potatoes, plantains, oranges, limes and apples, cocoanuts, guavas and pineapples, onions and to- matoes, ginger and spices of all kinds and tobacco. Cattle, sheep and goats are also raised. Some of the farmers are men of wealth and live in the capital city. rolling, The country about Abomey is with forests of fine trees, in which roam lions, tigers, elephants and other wild ani- mals. It is'a very cheap country. Labor. ers are paid 1 2 cents a day; a pound of beef or mutton can be had for a cent from twenty to thirty eggs for the sam price, grapes. pears, bananas and other fruits 2 cents a calipash. a calipash being @ dried gourd shell holding two bushels. One cent will purchase more food than a hearty man can eat in a day. The money of the country consists of small shells called cowrie. It takes eighty of them to equal a cent in value. so-called “king's customs’ are most bloodthirsty and revolting. are known as “throw- ing of the presents,” “the feast of the Trot badors,” “the milking of the palm,’ day of the king,” &c. ‘Some of the of the ‘Throwing of the Present: One of the most shocking in its barbar- . hung with drapery and fi hich fy “the flag of “Dahomey—white, with a in black holding up a head in one hand and a sword in the other. On this platform stands the king surrounded by his court, while all about, in a dense mass, is the populace, kept back by the Amazonian guard. The ceremonies begin by the king throwing into the crowd bun- dies of cloths, muskets, knives, pipes and tobacco, &e., which are flercely scrambled for by the people. Then comes the slau ter of criminals, and prisoners of war. unfortunate victims are dressed in white shirts, white caps, and tied into long ba: kets with their knees drawn up to their chins. A sort of slide 1s attached to the platform. The baskets with their livi contents are lifted on the slide and hurl down into the crowd below. A horrible struggle ensues, the poor wretches are hacked to pieces by the rabble, many of whom are killed or injured in the effort to get the heads of the victims, the posses- sion of which is considered a gveat honor. Two hundred are often killed in these sat- urnalias of blood. Another horrible custom is that of offer. ing up human sacrifices at the shrine of the King’s ancestors, thelr blood being rinkled on the graves. This 13 called ‘atering the kings’ graves.” When a king dies, his wives are said to engage in a free fight, In which some are killed. This continues until orders are received from his successor for a cessation of hostilities. In the “Grand customs,” held at inter- vals of several years, the slaughter is much greater than in the annual “Cus- toms." The Dahomeyans, like so many other Af- rican races, are fetish worshipers, and be- eve in sorcery and witchcraft. These customs” are a part of their religion. One of the most notable institutions of the country is the army of Amazon sol- diers. About three-quarters of the women of Dahomey are said (even before their birth) to be “married to the fetish.” These are at the disposal of the king. At years of age such of them as he deems Recessary are mustered into the Amazon- fan guard, the most pleasing ones being selected for the royal harem, the others given as wives to the king’s soldiers. After bearing two children the Amazons are dis- charged from service. As it is a cov- eted privilege to belong to the guard most of tts members are not very anxious to become mothers. The uniform of the Amazons is a short tunte of cotton cloth, with a leather belt. in which ts carried ‘a knife and a pipe. Their fect and legs are bare. They are armed with old muskets, swords and some with bows and arrows. Considering the character of their guns they are good shots and are said to possess more courage than the male soidiers. During the last few years, however, the Dahomeyans have been supplied by the English, Belgian and German traders with many Snyder, Mau- ser and Winchester rifles, and even with Krupp cannon. An Amazon. That the Dahomeyans, and especially the Amazons, can fight’ was abundantly proved during the campaigns of 1890-91-92, when the French invaded the country on account of the slave trade and depreda- tions on French territory. In 18% a force of Dahomeyans, 9,000 strong, 7,000 men and 2.0%) Amazons, at- tacked 2’ French force ‘of 400 men. They French and would have overwhelmed them but for the terrible execution of the Libel rifle, the balls from which even went through the trunks of good-sized trees. The loss of the Dahomeyans was 30 killed, that of the French sixty-one killed and wounded. In another battle in which the French had 3,00), opposed to 4.000 Dahomeyans, the Amazons made many desperate charges upon the French lines, and were only driven off after frightful havoc had been wrought in their ranks by the nineteen field guns and terrible fire of the Libel rifles. the white man’s discipline finally overcame the imperfectly organized forces of the Dahomeyans. In 189? the capital was taken, the king, Benhanzin, fled and a protectorate was established. It is very probable that the King of Dahomey wiil rule nevermore. The dethroned Benhanzin was educated in Parts, but on his return to bis native land his savage instincts got the better of his training end he took up again the customs of the country. support- ie men | also | THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. ©, SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1893-SIXTEEN PAGES. 7 A ROMANCE OF THE TRANSVAAL ——aS WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY ‘WALTER BRUCE. ee CHAPTER L—ALONE WITH A GREAT SORROW. OLD! GOLD!! Gold!!! The region of gold—the city of gold! Gold in the earth beneath;golden- silvery stars shining im the sky above. But alas! no gold in the pocket of the young man who with droop- ing head and with deepening misery stamped upon his face walks with weary step the dark streets of Johannesburg. Where were the bright hopes with which he had set out from his English home only one short year before? Where was the fortune he had confidently come to win? Could it be only a year ago? It seemed to him as if a whole lifetime had Passed since then. For the first few months everything had prospered with ‘him. Everything in’ which e had invested his money seemed to turn out well. He was betrothed to Minnie Colbeck, one of the loveliest and sweetest giris in South Africa, ,and his prospects were of the brightest. “But suddenly all was changed. Shares in which he had invested came down with @ rapid run. Claims on which he had long been working, and which he believed to contain rich Teefs, proved worthless. Everything he ‘tried failed; and Clarkson found, Ike thousands of others, Row success and failure have in common the same propensity of accumulation. ‘Nothing succeeds Ii . 48 OMe Success leads generally to an- other. And so “misfortunes come not sin- gle spies, but in battalions. Mr. Colbeck did not believe in unsuccess- ful men, and regarded failure as @ social crime. He closed his doors upon Clarkson, and told him that he must consider his en: Sagerment with Minnie at an end. larkson had tried to obtain employment, but business of all sorts being positively. at a standstill he had failed to obtain an nis ‘Tight, almost t with hi "Pts almost worn ot th his fruitless. efforts and struggles, he ‘Thomas truggles, he walks aimlessly along the streets in that con- dition which borders upon hopeless despair. He would give up the struggle—he would strive no longer. galore had nearly fed. Mone jone, except one solitary shilling which Stood between him and starvation.» What should he do? He decided to go to the nearest bar and spend that shilling in Something that would deaden the intoler- able pain burning in his brain and heart. was all vithin, all was activity, merriment and brilliantly lighted scenes. Clarkson stood for & moment dazzled and bewildered. ‘Then, throwing down his solitary coin he ordered 08 luctive and deceptive al hole fluid, brandy. eas His strange manner, haggard face and wild-looking eyes attracted attention even there, where strange men and strange events were common. Many curious glances were cast in his direction. Some one spoke to Clarkson, but he turned away without answering. Suddenly from one of the rooms came the strains of music, and a voice com- menced_ with—cruel mockery in such a Rlace—'Home, Sweet Home.” It was ren lered, too, with such wonderful power and plaintive sweetness that the oaths, the coarse jokes and the loud senseless laughter were for a moment suspended and hushed into silence. More than one Paused with his glass haif way to his lips and waited until the last "Sweet Home” had faded away before drinking the bev- erage. Thomas stood listening like the others. Every word, every note, seemed to strike home to his heart with the force of a blow. Clarkson hurried from the place, leaving his brandy untouched. His guardian angel had returned. ‘Once more he was out in the streets, alone with the stars and with a great sor: row. He was humiliated with himself. He had gone to the brink of a precipice and had nearly fallen. What would his mother innie . ite ‘Thank God he had been saved. And then, amid feelings of shame and thankfulness, Was reborn the old resolve, the old deter. mination, to struggle on, to try again, and not to yield to despair. Then followed a collapse of the physical powers, and a great rand weariness, partly ‘of weakness fen nothing since early moraing of the day before—fell upon him, and, turn. ing into @ then deserted street, he lay down under the shelter of a galvanized iron stoop a deep sleep, or more properly, stupor of exhaustion. pias aad 1k was early morning when he awoke, but a le was 5s! and cold, and at first bewildered at finding himself in the Glddlly he rose to his feet and made his way to the house where he lodged. No one was astir but the landlady, who viewed him curiously, and by no means approv- ingly, when ‘she opened the door But Clarkson offered no explanations. He went to his bed room, threw himsel¢ down on the bed, and once more fell into a heavy sleep. It was past noon when he was awakened by a loud knocking at the door. Two men in the uniform of the Johannesburg police stood outside. As soon as he open the door they entered the room. “Are you Mr. Clarkson?” one of the men asked. “Tam. What is your business with me?" “My business,” replied the man, firm and deliberately, to arrest you. “To arrest me?” repeated Thoma: gered, “to arrest me for what? “For the murder of Mr. Diblin,” was the reply. “The murder of Mr. Diblin—has he been murdered?” “Yes; murdered last night, or early this morning. He was found dead, shot through the heart. Thomas was horrified beyond measure. He had often in his more prosperous day had business dealings with Mr. he knew him well by report. a hard, selfish, money-loving, close-fis man, singularly disobliging and harsh, and just the sort of person to have enemies. vice lately Clarkson had gone to him re- questing employment in on of his places of busin and on both occasions he been coldly and curtly refused. He had little reason to like the merchant, but all his dislikes were forgotten in the horror of hearing Dtblin had been murdered. “Are you ready to come with me now?” the policeman asked after a time, during which Thomas had stood still looking at him, “To go with you where?” ‘To the police station. Don’t you under- stand? It’s my duty to arrest you for the murder.” “To arrest me for the murder?” gasped Clarkson, in consternation and apparently dazed at first. ‘Thomas exclaimed. I know nothing of the murder. “Then you'll only have to prove it.”” ‘On what ground was my arrest or- dered?” Clarkson asked. ‘ “On the ground that Mr. Diblin didn’t deal squarely with you in the matter of those claims of yours, and that well known you've got a grudge against him, and that your revolver was picked up only @ few, yards from where the body was found.”* “My revolver,” interrupted Clarkson, “has not been in my possession for week: It was stclen from my room.” “That will be all right, then,” said the liceman, “I daresay the people in the louse will be able to swear that it was stolen. “I don't know," answered Thomas, “I don’t think I mentioned the loss.’ “It's a pity you didn't,” replied the officer, curtly, “are you ready? “No, I am not ready!" answered Clark- son, fiercely, “I refuse to be arrested. 1 amas innocent of the murder as yourseif.” “I hope so, Mr. Clarkson,” replied the man. “but it Is no use refusing to come, for if you do we'll only have to use force, and that wouldn't make things look any better, you know. At the police station, a wretched little tin tenement, just off President street, he searched "and, judge of the poor’ fellow’s horror and amazement, when, in the pock- ets which had not for weeks contained a single thing of value, there were found bank notes of the value of £50, besides a watch attached to a very curious antique gold chain, which several persons identitied as having’ belonged to the murdered man. The revolver was also produced, Clarkson acknowledged that it was his, but repeated what he had already told the policeman, viz, that {t had been stolen from him several weeks previously. He did not know, he said, how the bank notes and Diblin's watch had come into his possession, for it was days since he had exchanged a word with, or even seen the gentleman. He then related simply and clearly how he had spent the previous night. That availed him nothing, but rather told against the case, and he was sent up to the aol, there to await the preliminary examination on a charge of murder. This was much of a formal affair and Clarkson was duly committed for trial be- fore the circut court. CHAPTER II—BY THE MOUTH OF THE LIO! The court house, facing the market square, was crowded to suffocation, as the popular phrase runs, on the day appointed for the trial. The affair had excited much public interest on account of the wealth and local standing of the murdered man and because of the unusual circumstances Very cain ba ¢ deadiy al peared the Very calm, but le, ap} accused, as’ succeeding witnesses adduced fresh incriminating evidence. The counsel allotted Clarkson strove manfully, but his cross-examination did not shake the testi- mony on the primary points. The case Went against the accused from the begin ning. The evidence was clear and strong. ‘The ‘notes and the watch of the murdered man had been found in possession of the prisoner, whose revolver had been picked up a few yards from where the body had been vered. Several witnesses testi- fled to his having rushed into Beauty's Bar late on the evening of the murder, looking wild, haggard and excited, like a man who had’ commit or, purposed committing, some crime. The landlady swore to having returned to the house at half-past 3 in the morning looking very white and strange, as if he had but recently gone through some very exciting scene. More than one person Knew that Clarkson had owed the rich, unscrupulous merchant a grudge. Closer and closer the chain was tightening about his neck, and as proof upon proof of his guilt was adduced a pecu- Mar and ominous silence settled upon the crowd of listeners and spectators. ‘The proceedings were necessarily partly in the official language of the country, but many of the jury were well conversant with English, and every opportunity was permit- ted the accused to rebut the damaging evi- dence. He was asked if he had anything to say, and Clarkson repeated his story, sim- ly and truthfully, as before. He had’noth- Ing to conceal, though the truth could help him little. He knew well the evidence against him, circumstantial though it might be, was too strong. Judge, jury and listeners ‘all appeared quite convinced cf his guilt. Very calmly, and with an up- conscious pathos, he told the story of his futile efforts to obtain employment, his hopeless misery, his reckless resolve to spend his last Shilling and purchase that which should render him oblivious of his suffering for @ time. He told how he had gone into the bar, and how the music had created calmer and better thoughts, and saved him; how he had gone forth into the streets again, and, worn out by hunger and fatigue, had jain down and slept till morn- ing. The notes and the watch must, he , have been put into his pockets while he lay on the stoop. He was innocent,he as- serted, and in the presence of God he could only repeat it. adhe court and the crowd were skeptical, few of the latter appeared to sympa: thize with the accused in the slightest. The jury retired, and a painful silence fell upon the court. In a few minutes the jury. men returned, and their verdict could in a sense be felt before it was given. Very slowly and deliberately it came: “We find the prisoner guilty. No one seemed surprised, and certainly not the pale young prisoner himself. Not surprised, but oh how bitterly fell upon his ears and heart the words that consigned him to a doom of sudden and shameful death. | na low, calm tone the judge pronounced the awful’ sentence, and the prisoner ee about to be led away, when it was seen that some one was struggling through the crow toward him. It proved to be a young girl, with ep eyes and a face the pic- ture of despair. Tt was Minnie Colbeck, and in a moment she was beside her lover.” The Policemen offered no obstacle: Indeed, they appeared to fall back involuntarily. She looked so pale, so fair and so unearthl ly that she might have been a spirit from the other world confronting them. Clarkson gazed upon her, but his white lips remained un- moved and he uttered not a word. “Tom,” said the girl, in a voice so low that he only heard it, “you will yet be saved. They cannot take your life: you shall not die for another's sin. Heaven will Not, permit such cruel injustice.” Minnle Spoke as all inexperienced people speak on such matters, women especially. Clarkson did not speak. He knew that with the first word he uttered all his self-command would desert him. He took her little cold hands in his and ‘held them for a moment, as we hold hands that we never expect to clasp again in this world, and, with one look into her sorrowing eyes—a look that seemed to bid her an earthly farewell—he was led away. CHAPTER IIl.—THE PRESIDENT’S PREROGATIVE. Among the passengers who left Johan- nesburg by the early coach for Pretoria on the day following that on which Thomas Clarkson's death sentence had been pro- nounced was a girl who, thickly veiled, sat in a corner of the coach with bent head, clasped hands and melancholy miet Tt was Minnle Colbeck. She had made a desperate, firm, though wild resolve to go to the capital, see President Kruger and plead for the life of Thomas Clarkson. Only a woman would have carried out such & resolution. The coach traveled at the utmost speed of its eight spirited horses, but to her heated — and impatient fancy it seemed to erawl along the smooth, dusty road. It was still early in the day when it dashed into the streets of Pretoria. Half an hour later Minnte stood at the gates of the presidency, an unpretentious, ordinary looking residence in a quiet part of the principal street. Her heart beat, her hands trembled and her whole bodily frame- work shook so violently that she could scarcely trast her votce to ask for an in- terview with his honor. That morning the executive was sitting at the presidency, as it occastonally does, and Minnie had to wait a long time before the president could give her an audience. Every minute seemed an hour to the anxious girl She had been conducted to a small room, which seemed so oppressively silent that she could almost hear the beating of her own heart. Presently there was a firm, heavy ste heard, and the president. pipe in hand, homely and kindly in appearance, entered the apartment. Minnie does not know to this day how she told her tale. what words she spoke or what argument she employed. She remembers that when she had finished speaking she looked earnestly and intently at the countenance of the president. Hi face was stern and sad, but there w: kindly look in his eyes and some sympathy in his voice as he said—his honor can speak good English when he lkes— “It cannot be, my child. The jury have found the young man guilty, and the judge has sentenced him to death. It me or my executive to interfere “Ob, your honor, but he is not guilty, went ‘on the girl, "with feminine logic. know he fs not guilty. He does not deserve to die. Do not permit such an act of Injus- tice to be perpetrated in the land. He is in- nocent.”* “The jury have found him guilty,” replied the president, kindly but firmly. “I pity you, my poor child, but I cannot do what you'wish.” “The jury are but men; thes are not in- fallible.” answered Minnie, ‘passtonately. “Oh, your honor, for the sake of justice, for the ‘sake of all that you hold dear on ‘this earth, for your hope of heaven, be merciful, that you may demand mercy’ for yourself at the throne of grace, pardon him! pardon him!’ She flung herself at his feet and raised her white face with such an agony of supplication that the president was mov- ed. Sentiment. seldom moves. this, firma- minded ruler, and only at his religious ex- ercises has he for a long time been known. to exhibit emotion. “{ would do what you ask willingly, glad- ly, if I thought it right, but I do not think so. To pardon this young man would be to encourage crime in the state. Besides which I have not the prerogative alone. It is shared by the executive.” “But he is innocent, your honor, I know he Is.” “The jury found him guilty, and the judge condemned him to death. People Would say, and justly, that we did wrong to reverse their decision and pardon a mur- derer.” ie is no murderer! And he fs so young: and he has suffered so much; and I love him, and"—here her voice broke, and she buried her face despairingly in her hands for a moment, the president meanwhile sitting in deep thought. Then he rose and abruptly left the room. Minnie wait- ed, bewildered, agonized, for a few min- utes. Then the president returped, bearing in his hand a siip of paper. Minnie’s heart reached her mouth, if there is anything in the phrase. Oo ave seen my executive,” sald the president. “We cannot pardon him and set him free as you wish, but his sentence shall be commuted. Give this to the Landdrost tonight. He. shall hear further from me.” Minnie took the paper from the presi dent’s hand, scarcely able to repeat the burning words of gratitude that rose to lips. a act ‘can not thank you as I shouid.” she murmured, “but I shall never forget your goodness, and God will bless you for ever. She took the big hand of President Haul, pressed it reverently to her lips, and was speedily gone. once’ more in the coach on the way to Johannesburg, Minnie’s tears fell fast. but they were tears of gratitude, thankfulness, and joy, that she had so well succeeded In her mission. Arrived in Johannesburg, she lost not a moment in seeking the Landdrost, to whom she landed the president's paper. ‘The Landdrost read it carefully, and then “The president and executive have been pleased to commute Thormas Clarkson's sentence to penal servitude for Ufe. I am sorry to say that he has proved unworthy of the kindness—he has escaped from our charge."” “Escaped!” repeated Minnie, half bewsI- dered, “from where?’ “From the gaol, of course. Where else? But he can not have gone far, and will soon be recaptured. “When he escape?” Early this morning, so far as any one chooses to tell. He must have had help from outside. It would have been impossi- ble for him to escape unaided. Iam sick of these cases of gaolbreaking. Somebod must have helped him.” And the Land- drost looked suspiciously at Minnie. Without replying, the girl went away, bewildered, almost stupefied. CHAPTER IV.—A MIDNIGHT MEETING. Midnight found Minnie sitting in her room, wide-eyed and wakeful. She had sternly said: ne through a wearying and exciting day, Gut she was unable Yo fest, Mer thoughts were, of course, with Thomas. How had e contrived to she wondered. Who had helped him? Where was he now? Could he get safely out of the country, or would he be recaptured and di tg- nominiously back to prison? A Raat i PSS a ow whumper tore tes ey on the midnight breeze. She started to her feet, listening intently. ‘Tien she ‘ees ‘2 footstep outside the window. It was soft and stealthy, but she knew it well, cloak closely round her she Wrapping a softly opened the door and outside. stepped oF & moment Tor Remoment she was inclined to think you run ‘such a terrible ‘Oh, go at once! “I am going instantly; but I could not go until I had seen you once more. Do not tremble so, Minnie, there is no danger. No one dreams that I am still here.” “How did you escape? Who helped you?” “A man who is almost a stranger, and on whom I had not the slightest claim. He is Waiting with horses in the next street now. We shall travel through the night, and in the morning he will conceal me in the house of a friend. Tomorrow night we shall go on again. He has provided me a dis- guise and given me money. He planned it “He ts—but, no, I will not tell you. You may be questioned, and what you do not know you cannot tell.” “Where did you go, Thomas? But per- haps you had better not tell me that, for I may be questioned. “I could not tell you if I would, my dar- Ung, for I do not Know. I am a coward to run away, Minnie, but I could not face death on the scaffoid.” Minnie shuddered. “Thank God you are free, Thomas, from that danger. They could not have taken your life, for the president has ordered a commutation of your sentence.” “The president! At whose instigation— who asked him to—" “I did.” “You, Minnie! Heaven bless you, my brave darling. But now I must go.” “Yes, go; there is danger in every mo- ment that you linger here. Good bye, Tho- mas.” “Good bye! May heaven bless you and keep you, my darling.” And, with a loving embrace, they separated. Would’ they ever meet again on this earth’ It seemed very improbable. Clarkson went out into a dark night and into a darker future. Minnie was left alone—alone in great misery. CHAPTER V.—ON THE BANKS OF THE VAAL. ‘The blazing sun of a December noon cast its fierce rays on the “dry” diamond dig- gings at Hebron, on the broad sluggish Vaal, on the rough red and brown Kopjes with their glaring gravel heaps, and on the Square shallow claims where tne digger gazed eagerly over his sieves. In a claim at the bottom of the Natal Kopje was a young man. He was not sorting or digging, hor, in fact, doing work of any kind. He Was sitting idly on a huge rock, his elbows on the edge of his gravitating ‘ub, his chin resting on his hands. Do you know him? Do you recognize the tall slight figure, the worn anxious face, the weary sad eyes, with such a weird, dark, far-away look in them? You have ‘met him before. Once, wandering through the streets of Johan, burg, hungry, friendless, penniless. Orce again you saw him in the crowded court house, and heard him sentenced to death, You heard him, too, reader, in the imi night darkness, bidding to “his betrothed What seemed to be a tender final farewell. You know him, for he is Thomas Clarkson, It is a year and a half since all that happened, and he has been at the Hebron diggings ‘ever since. Christmas Eve is at hand, and he is thinking of the past with a dull, aching pain at his heart, a pain hot now sharp and maddening as it used to be ut first, for the shame and hopeless- hess have become familiar to him now. He is accustomed to them, and they have grown to be part of himself. A lonely, dreary life he has lived at Hebron—an ex: istence bereft of every joy, hope and cheer- ing prospect. He had .worked on from day to day, not in the hope of finding a fortun: for of what use was money to him now? He was disgraced—his name a scorn and a byword to those who had been proud to know him in former days. It was well he did not wish for wealth, for, like the other diggers, he found but few stones, and those not of ‘great value. He had often worked for months and only found what was barely sufficient to pay for his coarse food and the rough clothes he wore. A week before, however, greatly t0 is surprise, he had found In’ his baby sieve a large'and beautiful diamond. It was a brilliant of the first water—a stone which would have meant a fortune to any other digger. But to him it was useless. He could not Bell it; for reports of its beauty and value would sure to be spread, and the finder would become a person of conse- quence and concern. He dared not. risk being thus talked about. So he put it away and tried to forget It. Strange and stern necessity. But In human life there is no contending with ne- cessity, and we should be very tender how we censure those who submit to it. It Is one thing to be at Iberty to do what we will, and another to be tied up to do what we must. And tomorrow would be Christmas day. Alas, what had he to do with Christmas and its associations? He had written once to Minnie and to his mother telling them that he was well and safe, but giviag them no hint to his whereabouts. Was Minnie thinking of him that day, he wondered. Was his mother praying for her Tuined son as she did in the old days? Clarkson left his claim and watked away to his little, lonely, dusty tent, and, throw- ing himself down 'on a heap ‘of rigs and sheepskins that served him for a bed he covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out the memory of those faces that so often haunted his waking hours and his sleeping dreams. He gave way to a mighty grief. Presently Clarkson was aroused by a tap at the tent pole. “May T come in?" asked a voice, and without waiting for a reply a tall man, car- rying a steve In one hand and a roll of newspapers in the other, entered. ot well?” he inquired, glancing at the es, I'm well enough,” Thomas answer- ed, wearily. “Oh! Taking a holiday because its Christ- mas ‘Eve, 1 suppose. I've knocked off work, too, till the day after tomorrow. I've come’ to ask you to come along with us to- morrow if you've nothing better to do. “Where are you going?” “My wife and I are going for a bit of a lcnic, to give the youngsters a treat, you now, and we want you to come along. I cannot promise you anything grand,” he added, with a laugh, “but it will be better than moping here ajone all day. Will you come?” Thank you, Mr. Rock; “I don’t think so. I'm fond of moping, you know; and I should only spoil the children’s pleasure if I took my gloomy face among them. “That all nonsense. The youngsters Will be disappointed if you don’t come. They think there is no one like you.” But Clarkson still persisted in his refusal. “Well, if you won't, you won't, I sup- pose. I’ won't press you to come against ‘our will,” said Rock, and he left the tent ooking rather vexed. He returned in a few minutes and threw a roll of newspapers on the bed. “They are a week old,” Rock said, “but perhaps you would like to look at them.” Thomas thanked him. But when he was gone he threw himself down in the old attitude of silent despair. CHAPTER VI.—SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN Christmas day broke fair, bright, genial, lovely—the very ideal of South African weather. The sky was of a stainless blue; the river glistened like burnished gold; the air was balmy and fragrant. Clarkson spent the morning wandering up and down the river bank. He gazed upon all the beauty of earth and sky callously—it did not seem to be for him. A dark sky and wild storm would have ‘better suited his mood. In the afternoon he returned to his tent, wishing that Christmas was over that he might get back to work. Labor was all he cared for now, for physical weariness brought with it’ some measure of mental rest. Listlessly he took up one of the newspapers Rock had left him. What mat- tered {t to him how the rest of humanity were moving, what men were buying and gelling, who was growing rich and who had become poor. He was about to fling the paper down again when something caught his eye—something that instantly banished the weariness and indifference and brought the hot blood rushing to his cheek. It was a Johannesburg journal, and he read: A DEATHBED CONFESSION. “Truth is after all stranger than fiction, and murder will out. The truth of these well-known adages has just been proved in a remarkable manner. Few people will have forgotten the excitement into which Johannesburg was thrown about eighteen months ago by the murder of Mr. Diblin, a wealthy and much respected merchaat’ of this town. A young man named Clarkson was accused of the crime and after trial sentenced to death. The sentence was afterward commuted to penal servitude for life. It will be remembered that Clarkson escaped from prison, and that all efforts to trace him were unavailing. It seems, how- ever, that the young fellow was innocent of the crime for which he nearly paid the awful penalty. A man named Dick Carter, who was injured in the dynamite explosion at the Gladstone mine yesterday and who is now dead, confessed to the murder. It a pears that for some time there had been ill- ‘will between Mr. Diblin and Carter, and on the day of the murder it terminated in a bitter and terrible quarrel. Late in the evening, as Carter was returning home, he met Mr. Diblin, who was very angry that, as he thought, Carter should be dogging him. Carter was insolent, and Mr. Dibiin threatened to give him ih charge, witere- upon Carter, Who was not sober, pulled cut his revolver—which he had bought irom a native a few weeks before—and shot Mr. Diblin. Carter did not at first think that Mr, Diblin was dead, but imagined that he had merely fainted. “Being hard up ise took from the pockets of the prostrate man all the money he carried, a large sum, amount- ing in notes and goid to several hundred unds. He also took a watch and chain. ter had scarcely accomplished this when @ man turned the corner of the street and came toward him. “Carter shrank back to the shadow of a building and waited for the man to pass. Instead of this, ho the on conclusion that he must be asleep. ‘hen Carter slipped out of the shadow, and, going up to Mr. Diblin once more, discovered that he was dead. So- bered by the horrible discovery and fearful of the consequences, he threw the revolver from him. Then he took Mr. Diblin's watch and a portion of the notes and placed them in the kets of the sleeping man. It was & devilish act. Carter did not know “tll afterward who it was that he had so cru- elly injured. He tried, he said, tc make what reparation he could by helping Clark- son to escape from prison, providing him with money and a disguise, and helping him out of the country. Johannesburg is as much excited about the confession as it was about the crime, and every one is now asking, “Where is Clarkson? But that is a question no one seems able to answer. He has vanished as completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. If he is still in the land of the living the newspapers, will soon reach his eye, and he will learn that he need no longer skulk about in hiding, but that he is free to return to Johannesburg whenever he wishes.” So that is why Dick Carter, a stranger, had helped him to escape and done so much for him! Why had he never suspected the reason before? He read the newspaper ac- count over and over again that bright Christmas afternoon. Each time it seemed ft brought him greater, deeper joy. The iron was lifted from his soul, the deaden- ing weight from his breaking heart. fie was free. Free from the weight of agonizing shame that for a year and a half had hung like a mill-stone around his neck. He dare look his fellow man in the face now. He was free to return to the Rand. ‘Minnie, mother, marriage, seemed to ring in his ears from invisible bells, and to bring a message as sweet as that which greeted the watchers on that night nearly nine- teen hundred years ago, when there came tidings to all men. tie ei next day ‘he sold ‘his diamond. It realized much more than ever he had an- icipated. ‘spur days later he was in Johannesburg-— the scene of his bitter shame and misery. He lost no time in seeking Minnie. Her family, he found, had removel to Doorn- fontein—the Belgravia of the Golden City. Mr. Colbeck had made his pile, and a big one, during the boom. ‘Thomas was soon standing at the gate. A ht was shining from one of the windows. fe went up softly and looked into the room. Seated on a couch in the corner of the room, where the light fell softly upon her, was Minnie. More beautiful than ever she appeared to him, though with a wistful sad- ness in her eyes that not evea the smile which at that moment parted her lips could wholly banish. For some time he realized the rapture of the occasion, gazing fondly upon the noble, true-hearted’ girl whose confidence in him had never wavered for an instant from the outset. He did not noth that a second lady was in the room until a movement of Minnie’s diverted his view in another di- rection. Surely there was something familiar about the hand, which he could only just see then. Then another movement 4is- closed—his mother. The next moment Thomas was in the room. What followed may be left to the imagi- nation of the reader. It was a very happy evening. The [wedding took place three weeks later. The congratulations were numerous. Just before the happy event Minnie re- ceived a letter bearing the Pretoria post- mark. It was a kind missive, full of good wishes. It bore no signature, strange to say, but neither Thomas nor Minnie doubt- ed whose hand had penned the lines— “God, the best er of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one.” = TWIN BOTHERATION. From the Chicago Inter-Ocean. William and Edward Stites are brothers and wealthy real estate men of Wichita. They are twin: and in addition are so much alike that people who have known them intimately for years constantly mis- take one for the other. In the same town lived two school teachers who were sisters and twins. The authority for the story, A. M. Burton of Kansas, who is at the Great Northern, says that it is difficult to tell them apart. The four twins met, fell in love and married. Each twin married the twin with whom he or she was in love, though a little mixing made discrimination impossible. 3 Many stories, too long to be retold here, are related of them during the courtship, but suffice it for the present narrative to say that in order to avoid mistakes William and the young lady to whom he w en- Figed assigned Monday, Wednesday and riday nights as their nights for courting, and Ed called on the remaining nights of the week, so there would be no mistake. They were married by the same preacher at the same time. The gentlemen were dress- ed alike and so were the ladies. The preacher got a little mixed and had to refer to his notes, but the high contract- ing parties are satisfied that they got the one they wanted. The father of the boys presented them both colts that were twins and Mr. Burton says any day these gen- Uemen, looking exact alike and driving horses ‘and buggies where no difference can be detected, may be seen in the streets of Wichita, where they are known to nearly everybody in town. Well, twins have come into those two households, and it is gravely asserted that each set of twins cannot be determined from the other. They have all four been in one house and the visiting mother has taken two babies home with her, and if they be- come mixed they comfort themselves by saying: “It's all in the family anyhow.” The children are satisfied wie ithe. one of the ladies as a mother. When either one of the gentlemen meets any one of the four on the strect and it calls “Hello, papa,” he doesn’t know whether it’s his or not. Eight of these twins, for, of course, the horses are to be left in Wichita, are coming to see the fair. At the hotel are two negro boys, «twins, Who are to be assigned es- pecially to wait on them. Complications are looked for, as one of these boys once had a broom at the door when a gentle- man ordered a brougham, and the other brought a sick man a Bible when he asked for a barber. A Girl in a Bear's Den. From the London News. A highly respectable Indian gentleman, a member of the Bombay Anthropological So- clety—Mr. Sarat Chandra Mitra—has come forward with an apparentiy well authentl- cated story of a girl who has been discov- ered in Jalpaiguri in the den of a bear. The young person's habits were decidedly bear- ish, for she tried to bite and scratch those who came near her, went down m all fours” for locomotion and “growled at meals.” The o1 ere of the New Dis- pensation Church in Calcutta could make nothing of the ferocious foundling, who has consequently been removed to Bas Aram, a refuge founded and supported by Brahmo gentlemen in that ree Nor is this all. A Bhagal Zemindar has captured in the jungle @ wild boy. ‘whose only approach to speech is the uiterance of chattering sounds like those of a mon- key. Col. Sleeman and the Rev. Mr. Lewis of the Secundre Church Mission have vouched for similar stories. Mr. Mitra is of opifiion that when, as sometimes hap- pens, an infant is abandoned in the bush there is nothing absurd in the idea that it might be adopted by a female wild animal that had lost her youn: —eo—_— He Was a Soctety M: From the Boston Transcript. Fogg and Fenderson were discussing Johnson's affairs. Said Fogg: “He is too much of a society man to lay up any money. “Why, T didn’t know he was a society man at’ all,” retorted Fenderson. TORY, “Society man! Why, bless you, he be- longs to the Alpha Beta Kappa, the Kappa Omega Phi, the Phi Sigma’ Delta, the Omega Chi’ Beta, the Society of Hiero- phants of the Hindoo Shrine, the Sons of the Evolution, the Knights of St. Simon the Simple, the Uncles of America, the Brotherhood of Behemoths and the Society of American Hayfever Sufferers.” ——— The Real e of the Tro From the Detroit Free Press, “Dick had trouble after he was married, I believe—didn’t get along well with hii wife, did he?” “Oh, yes, he got along very well with his wife, but he got along too well with other men's wives.” Poor Little Thing. From Texas Siftings. “What's the matter, Molly?” asked Col. Yerger of his Uttle six-year-old daughter. “Pa, my mocking bird ts dead.’ “Well, never mind, Molly, I'll buy you another one.” “Tam calm enough now, but when I waw that poor little dead bird I could have cried like @ child,” said Molly. RARE FUN ON ACAMEL’S BACK ever ride a camel? up is like nothing else under sun, says the Chicago Record. When man on his padded back feels as though he wereon the roof of a collapsing house, as though the structure was tottering and going to pieces. It is the wonder of a day how @ camel, after folding himself together and dropping on @ mat, can untie his lank and limber parts and get to his feet once more. The camel is the comedian of Cairo street in Midway Plaisance. He keeps the sunny street in a bubble of excitement and laugh- ter. The best part of it is that, ike the true comedian, he never enters into the fun. He seldom opens his eyes, and he never ceases that long, awkward swing of his icwer jaw. While he is tipping people into all sorts of frantic attitudes, causing women to shriek, and sending an idle crowd into roars of laughter, he always maintains that slow and homely’ dignity which is nat- ural and not acquired. Great is the camel. He has made a hit at the exposition. In Egypt a camel ts worth from $60 to $75, but the highest-priced camel is moth-eaten, sheef-worn, faded and rickety. At points The First Condi where he is not angular he is lumpy, his hair is worn off in patches of square feet, and no one can count the Joints of | his tremulous legs. anything ni further disfigure him it is a solled and tat- tered saddle of carpet and cheap ornaments. This is fastened over the lean and irregu- lar ridge of his back by numerous straps. His long and mournful head ts bound in a halter. Then you have the camel as he is found in Cairo, a sight to frighten children and tempt stout women to reckless feats. This riding of camels has become almost a craze. The buzz and clatter of Cairo street breed a contagion of nervous dar- ing. Other people are rocking up and down the streets on the camels, Donkey riders dash through the halting crowds, followed by exulting yelps. The shrill and martial pipes and the ttering tom-toms assist in the hurrah All Cairo is shouting, jabber- ing, offering wares. The holiday - ual. “He who gets into it feels a sudden de- sire to be @ part of the hurrah—to ride a camel. And so the lumbering ships of the desert are kept on the move all day. It costs 2 A Forward Rotary Movement. cents to go to the end of a street and back. In one week the camel pays for itself more than once. The drivers are Jarge black men with loose gowns and twisted turbans. are strong and willing men, too. them will p a heavy woman waist and lift her on the saddle as he were handling a sack of rice. loses her hat and shows & desire to as the camel weaves and staggers ing. he grasps her firmly by the and, In a volley of hot Egyptian, begs to keep cool and on. Although has seen people lurched and on camels for a great many yi y's it as much as any one, for road and sympathetic grin. ment or so, just to keep the beast Three camels were sprawled on th yesterday when a young man and a back- ward girl approached one of the drivers A Sudden Shoot Upward. and began to parley. Then the one hun- dred or more people who had been stand- ing there an hour just looking on and hav- ing a good time crowded a little closer and prepared for another exhibition. The young man asked the price, if the saddle ever slipped, if the camel was tame and if there was any danger. Of course the driv- er knew his business and said they would enjoy themselves. “Will he bite?” asked the girl when the camel shifted his long and sinewy neck toward her. “Noa bite; good camel,” said the driver, as he put the yellow tickets in his mouth and reached for the young woman. She was a trifle pale and glanced at her es- cort with a weak smile as the dusky man in the gown lifted her to the saddle and showed her how to hold on. The young man, laughing in a nervous way and evi- Gently bored by the gaze of the crowd. climbed up behind her and, reaching round her waist, took a death grip on the rope hand-hold. The driver took a good long > A Flying Movement. look on both sides to see that the two were fastened all right. This seemed to excite suspicion in the mind of the young Woman, who had ceased to smile was a trifle paler than before. ‘is there any danger?" she asked, noticing a shake and tremble of the dun mass un- derneath them. It was too late to begin asking questions. The driver was tugging at the halter and thumping the camel over the neck with his stick. At first the camel merely shook his head in drowsy protest; then all of a sudden his hindquarters be- gan to lift. ‘They kept on lifting. It seem- ed as though he was using one end at a time. The young man was tilted forward on the girl” Both threatened to slide over the saddie and down the sloping neck to the ground below. The girl's hat fell over her eyes and she screamed, but she knew enough to keep a tight hold and lean back. As they clung to this steep incline the camel paused. Then he swung to the right Thy Camel ts Up. and left in a drunken motion as be untan- s! is front legs. This jolted the two passengers, and the girl once more screamed. While they were — animal came up with t have fallen wack ie repes. forward and ¢ : for an= jut it was all fright she had passed into a ‘giggle, the young man assisting her. All this time the men and women who stood around had been yelling and titteri: with glee and ing to each other: “W, 4id you ever”” en they waited to see them come hack ‘and unload, for that is balf the fun. Usually. the rider takes kindly to the trip down ths street. To be sure, the animal rocks hack and forth and seems always on the point of The Camel Lies Down. z Compared wiih the shake-up sf monation wi ie e-up of mounting. If the ‘becomes camel wick, bow . ever, he is ready to land at once and noth=| ing will stop him. ‘The rolling and lurching. five him a ‘troubled feeling in the pit stomach and the minarets sto Fave tn the air. For such « case « ladder near at hand and he is permitted to descend. Very few people are troubled! with this attack. In fact, there is hardly! & risk of any kind in riding « camel. Many) have been tened, but not one has been hurt. ‘To be sure, when it coment the camel is abrupt end! lower his rear haunch-! >" but it only lasts a moment. Usually he comes down by de- grees, breaking each leg in new places and Siving his rider nothing more than a few! uneasy forward and back. Whatever may be his way of folding up he finally settles in complete repose on the dirty matting and waits for another carge of strangers. INE INVENTION. rs of Dress in White, d Grace Are Sought Chiefly From the New York Sun. Almest every woman has some article of. clothing of which she is especially fond. Nine times out of ten it is something she has devised herself as a substitute for what 1s worn by her less inventive sisters, For instance, one shrinking young woman, whe Would almost rather be wicked than strong minded, goes about with her small fees @one up in boys’ boots of the sturfiest variety. She says they are more comfurta~ ble, three times as durable and quite as neat as the so-called strong walking shoes for ladies. She wears the deintiest and most flexible of feminine house shoes, but for a walk on the pavements she will have but boys’ boots. of more advanced years, FR n Faso are the elastics. this useful article, the round garter and the suspender. A’ woman who wears & sound garter © ¢ thorn to one who ware e an versa. have been wrecked thereby. Health ts watchword of the suspender faction; beauty” is the boast of the garter tribe. ‘One proud woman serenely claims i ae (4 i fuakes a suspender which ‘whl \c most ardent advocates of ‘the ‘beauty the round garter. | | ‘% DIANA OF THE NEW YORKERS: Re Made of Aluminum «t& $1.25 a Pound—Facts About Gargoytet of The Brening St NEW YORK, Aug. 10.—The new Dis for the tower of the Madison Square Ga: en will be of aluminum. Copper was fhe material of the original chaste goddess, who pointed with her bow to the winl'€ eye from that lofty pinnacle a while agor The white metal is far better for the pure pose on actount of its comparatively small weight for the bulk. It is only about es heavy as chalk. The wholesale price of it has been brought down by improved pfo= cesses to $1.25 a pound. Perchance aluminum will at some time in the future be the material universally employed for making statues. Inasmuch as there is plenty of it to be had, every clay bank being a mine of it, it may reasonaliiy be expected that processes will eventual! be discovered for separating {t in unlimiveit wantities at a comparatively cheap rete from the materials with which it Is found One important #4- combined in nature. vantage that it has for statuary and moya- mental purposes is the fact that it does wot corrode, and ts as untarnishable as gold. inum Diana is being put togeth= by a New York firm. She will be tite eighteen feet in height. sculptor, ®t. and ex were of the that the ori was loo great metropoli® which bathes her large feet in the waters Lak were shocked to Ser ina of « , her only garment beii a trifle of drapery which blew away ‘But then it is well known thet Chicage fe the most virtuous city In the Union. Only a few years ago her municipal gow- ernment put fron corsets on two sphinzes: at the main entrance to Lincoln Park, the sake of decency. At all events, strict views on subjects of this kind are: not held in New York, and the new Diag, will: have no more ciothing than the olf! one—that is to say, practically nothing all. Even the nymphs who dance at sa concerts on Sundays at the roof cardent are better attired, though they have rm duced their garments to an ultimate miniq mum. The aluminum goddess will be out with dies from sheets of that metal, the parts thus made being finally fitted togeth- er. It is in the same fashion that ali sorts of afchitectural ornaments of the : — as Cann ge are Rg me vices represent dragon: and ail sorts of things from the @isbolioak to the angelic, including faces and heads. They are placed on salient points cf bullimy ings, to adorn them. e are of zing, others of copper, and others yet of brass, Gargoyles were very much in favor will architects during the middie ages, an@ many of the designs used for them toder have been brought down from times evem. more ancient. e devil, who was such popular character in Europe a few nundred. years ago, was employed to @ great extent for @ device. In making je the first pattern is modeled in clay. From this @ plaster cast ts taken, then a mold fro Heads of oxen tor market places and henge oxen for ma’ of horses for stables are manufactured the same way. A Long Call. ” From Vorne. He (nervously)—“Can that be your fatiee er trying to get in the gate? She—“Yes.” “I thought you told me when T first came that be had gone out of town for thee mre aid. But that was yesterday. y or “Taken From the Nude.”