Evening Star Newspaper, April 6, 1895, Page 17

1 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 6, 1895-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. Popyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) (Concluded.) CHAPTER Iv. ¥t is astonishing—and I have heard many make the same remark—how acute one’s senses become at such a crisis as this. I gm convinced that at no moment is one living so vividly, so acutely, as at the instant when a violent and foreseen death overtakes one. I could smell the resinous fagots, I could see every twig upen the ground, I could hear every rustle of the branches, as I have never smelled, or seen, or heard, save at such times of danger. And, so it was that, long before any one else, before even’ the time when the chief had addressed me, I had heard @ low, monotonous sound, far away, in- deed, and yet coming nearer at every in- stant. At first it was but a murmur, a rumble, but by the time he had finished. speaking, while the assassins were untying my ankles in order to lead me to the scene of my murder, I heard, as plainly as ever I heard anything in my life, the clinking of horseshoes, and the jingling of bridle chains, with the clank of sabers against stirrup irons. Is it likely that I, who had Hved with the light cavalry since the first hair shaded my lip, would mistake the sound of troopers on the march? “Help, comrades, help!” I shrieked, and though they struck me across the'mouth and tried to drag me up to the tree, I kept on yelling: “Help me, my brave boys! Help a “Help, comrades, help!” They are murdering your ! For the moment my wounds and my troubles had brought on a delirium, and I looked for nothing less than my five hundred hussars, kettle- drums and all, to appear at the opening of the glade. But that which really appeared was very different to anything which I had con- ceived. Into the clear space there came galloping a fine young man upgn-a most beautiful roan horse. He was fresh-faced and pleasant looking; with the most de- bonnaire bearing in the world, and the most gallant way of carrying himself, a way which reminded me somewhat of my own. He wore a singular coat, which had once been red all over, but which was now stained to the color of a withered oak leaf wherever the weather could reach it. His shoulder straps, however, were of golden lace, and he had a bright metal helmet up- on his head, with a coquettish white plume ypop one side of its crest. He trotted his Rorse-up the glade, while behind him there rode four cavaliers in the same dress—all clean shaven, with round, comely faces, looking to me more like monks than dra- goons. At a short, gruff order they halted with a rattle of arms, while their leader cantered forward, the fire beating upon his eager face and the beautiful head of his charger. I knew, of course, by the strenge coats that they were English. It was the first sight that I had ever had of them, but from their stout bearing and their masterful way I could see at a glance that what I had always been told was true, and that they were excellent people to fight against. “Well, well, well!” cried the young offi- cer, in sufficiently bad French; “what de- vil's game are you up to here? Who was that who was yelling for help, and what are you trying to do to him?” It was at that moment that I learned to bless those months which Obriant, the de- scendant of the Irish kings, had spent in teaching me the tongue of the English. My ankles had just been freed, so that I had only to slip my hands out of the cords, and with a single rush I had flown across, picked up my saber where it lay by the fire, and hurled myself onto the saddle of poor Vidal's horse. Yes, for all my wound- ed ankle, I never put foot to stirrup, but was in the seat in a single bound. I tore the halter from the tree, and before those villains could so much as snap a pistol at me I was beside the English officer. “TI surrender to you, sir,” I cried, though I dare say my English was not much bet- ter then his French. “If you will look at that tree to the left you will see what these villains do to the honorable gentle- men who fail into their hands.” The fire had flared up at the moment, and there was poor Vidal exposed before them, as. horrible an ob: one could cried the and cried each of the four troopers, which is the same as with us when we cry “Mon Dieu!’ Out rasped the five swords and the four men closed up. One wto were a sergeant’s chevron laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Fight for your skin, freggy,” said he. Ah! it was so fine to have a horse be- tween my thighs and a weapon in my There Was Poor Vidal Kefore Them. grip. I waved {t above my head and shouted in my exultaticn. The chief had come forward, with that odious smiling face of his. “Your excellency will observe that this chman is our prisoner,” he sald. are a rascally robber,” said the an, shaking his sword at him. “It is a disgrace to us to have such allies. By the Lord, if the general were of my mind we would swing you up to the near- est tree.” “But my prisoner?’ said the brigand, in his suave voice. 1 come with us to Lord Wellffig- He approached the young officer, and then turning as quick as a flash he fired his pistol in my face. The bullet scored its way through my hair and burst a hole on each side of my busby. Seeing that he had missed me, he raised the pistol and was about to hurl {t at me, when the English sergeant, with a single backhand- ed cut, nearly severed his head from his body. His blood had not reached the ground, nor the last curse died on his lips, before the whole horde were upon us, but with a dozen bounds and as many slashes we were all safely out of the glade, and galloping down the winding track which led to the valley. It was not until we had left the ravine } goed far behind us and were right out in the open fields that we ventured to halt and to see what injuries we had sustained. For me, weary and wounded as I was, my heart was beating proudly and my chest was nearly bursting my tunic to think that I, Etienne Gerard, had left this gang of murderers so much by which to remember me. My faith, they would think twice be- fore they ventured again to lay hands upon one of the third hussars. So carried away was I that I made a small oration to these brave Englishmen and told them who it was that they had ‘helped to rescue. I aH He Nearly Severed His Head From His Shoulders. would have spoken of glory also and of the sympathies of brave men, but the officer cut me short. “That's all right,” said he, “any injuries, sergeant?” “Trooper Jones’ horse hit with a pistol bullet on the fetlock.” “Trooper Jones to go with us. Sergeant Halliday with Troopers Harvey and Smith to keep to the right until they touch the vi- dettes of the German hussars.” So these three jingled away together, while the officer and I, followed at some distance by the trooper whose charger had been wounded, rode straight down in the direction of the English camp. Very soon we had opened our hearts, for we each liked the look of the other from the beginning. He was of the nobility, this brave lad, and he had_ been sent out scouting by Lord Wellington to see if there were any ‘sigas of our advancing through the mountains. It is one advantage of a wandering Hfe like mine, that you learn to pick up those bits of knowledge which distinguish the man of the world. I have, for example, hardly ever met a Frenchman who could repeat an English title correctly. If I had not trav- eled I should not be able to say with con- fidence that this young man’s real name was Milor Hon. Sir Russell Bart, this last being an honorable distinction, so that it was as the Bart that I usually addressed — just es in Spanish one might say “the n. As we rode beneath the moonlight in the lovely Spanish night we spoke our minds to each other, as if we were brothers. We were both of an age, you see, both of the light cavalry also (the sixteenth light ‘dra- goons was his regiment) and both with the same hopes and ambitions. Never have I learned to know a man so quickly as I did the Bart. He gave me the name of a girl he had loved at a garden called Vauxhall, and for my part I spoke to him of little Caralic of the opera. He took a lock of hair from his bosom, and I a garter. Thea we nearly quarreled over hussar and dra- goon, for he was absurdly proud of his regiment, and you should have seen him curl his Hp and clap his hand.to his hilt when I said that I hoped it might never be its misfortune to come in the way of the CHAPTER V. Finally, he began to speak of what the English call sport, and he told such stories of the money which he had lost over which of two cocks could kill the other, or which of two men could strike the other the most in a fight for a prize, that I was filled with tonishment. He was ready to bet upon anything in the most wonderful manner, and when I chanced to see a shooting star he was anxious to bet that he would see more than me, twenty-five francs a star, and it was only when I explained that my 2 Great Volley of Musketry. purse was in the hands of the brigands that he would give over the idea. Well, we chatted away in this very amiable fashion until the day began to break, when suddenly we heard a great volley of musketry from somewhere in the front of us. It was very rocky and broken ground, and I thought, although I -could see nothing, that a general engage- ment had broken out. The Bart laughed at my idea, however, and explained that the sound came from the English camp, where every man emptied his piece each morning, pues to make sure of having a dry prim- in another mile we shall be up with the outposts,” said he. I had at least one guard besides myself. I reined up my horse and ed this to him, asking him at the same time whether he saw any breach of honor in my leaving hi im. 3 He thought about it, and seyeral times repeated that which the English would say when they mean “Mon Dieu.” “You would give me the slip, would you?” said he. “If you can give no reason against it.” “The only reason that I can think of,” said the Bart, “is that I should instantly cae your head off if you should attempt “Two can play at that game, my dear Bart,” said I. x “I have a proposal,” I cried. “Then we'll see who can play it best,” he cried, pulling out his sword. I had drawn mine also, but I was quite determined not to hurt this - admirable young man, who had been my benefactor. “Consider!” said I. “You say that I am your prisoner. I might with equal reason say that you are mine. We are alone here, and, though I have no doubt that you are an cxcellent swordsman, you would hard- Jy hope to hold your own against the best blade in the six light cavalry brigades.” His answer was a cut at my head. parried and shore off half of his white plume. He thrust at my breast. I turn- ed his point and cut away the other half of his cockade. “Curse your monkey tricks!” he cried, as I wheeled my horse away from him. “Why should you strike at me,” said I. “You see that I will not strike back.” “That's all very well,” said he. “But you've got to come along with me to the hall never see the camp,” said I. i lay you nine to four you do,” he cried, as he made at me, sword in hand. But those words of his put something new into my head. Could we not decide the matter in some better way than by fighting? The Bart was placing me in such ® position that I should have to hurt him or he would certainly hurt me. I avoided his rush, though his sword point was with- in an inch of my neck. “I have a proposal,” I cried. “We shall throw dice as to which is the prisoner of the other.” ne peed at this. It appealed to his love ur dice?” he cried. have none.” “Nor I, bat I have cards.” “Cards let it be,” said I. “And the game “T leave it to you.’ “Ecarte, then—the best of three.” I could not help smiling as I agreed, for I do not suppose that there were three ft The Cards Were With Me. men in France who were my masters at the game. I told the Bart much as we mounted. He smiled also as’he listened. “I was counted the best player at Wa- tier’s,” said he. “With even luck you de- serve to get off if you beat me.’ So we tethered our two horses and sat down, one on either side of the great flat rock. The Bart took a pack of cards out of his tunic and I had only to see him shuffle them to convince me that I had no novice to deal with. We cut and the deal fell to him. My faith, it was a stake worth playing for. He wished to add a hundred gold pieces a game, but what was money when the fate of Col. Etienne Gerard hung upon the card? I felt as though all those who had rea@on to be interested in the game, my mother, my hussars, the sixth corps d’armee, Ney, Messena, even the emperor himself, were forming a ring around us in that desolate valley. Heavens, what a blow to one and all of them should the cards go against me. But I was confident, for. my .ecarte play was as famous as my swordsmanship, and, save old Bouve of the hussars, who won seventy-six out of one hundred and fifty games off me, I have always had the best of a series, CHAPTER VI. The first game I won right off, though I must confess that the cards were with me, and that my adversary could have done no more. In the second I never played better and saved a trick by a finesse, but the Bart voled me once, marked the king and ran out in the second hand. My faith, we were so excited that he laid his helmet down beside him, and I my busby. “I'll lay my roan mare against your black horse,” said he. Done,” said I. ‘Saddle, bridle and stirrups!” he cried. ‘Done!’ I shouted. I had caught this spirit of sport from him. I would have laid my hussars against his dragoons, had they been ours to pledge. And then began the game of games. Oh, he played, this Englishman; he played: in a way that was worthy of such a stake. But I—my friends, I was superb Of the five which I had to make to win I gained three on the first hand. The Bart bit his mustache and drummed his hands, while I already felt myself at the head of my dear I glanced around at this, and I perceived | that we had trotted along at so good a pace during the time that we were keeping up our pleasant chat that the dragoon with the lame horse was altogether out of sight. I looked on every side, but in the whole of that vast rocky valley there was no one save only th> Bart and I—both of us armed, you understand, and both of us well mounted. I began to ask myself whether, after all, it was quite necessary that I should ride that mile which would bring me to the British outposts. Now, I wish to be very clear with you om this point, my friends, for I would not have you think that I was acting dishon- orably or ungratefully to the man who had helped me away from the brigands. You must remember that of all duties the strongest is that which a commanding officer owes to his men. You must also bear in mind that war is a game which is played under fixed rules, and when these rules are broken one must at once claim the forfeit. If, for example, I had given a parole, then I should have been an infa- SQ oe, I Was Determined Not to Hurt This Young Man. mous wretch had I dreamed of escaping. But no parole had been asked of me. Out of overconfidence and the chance of the lame horse dropping behind, the Bart had per- mitted me to get upon equal terms with Had it been I who had taken him I him. should have used him as courteously as he had me, but at the same time I should have respected his enterprise so far as to have deprived him of his sword, and seen that My Beautiful Hand Had Been Mastered little rascals. On the second I turned the king, but lost two tricks, and my score was four to his two. When I saw my next hand I could not but give a cry of delight. If I cannot gain my freedom.on this, thought I, I deserve to remain forever in chains. Give me the cards, landlord, and I will lay them on the table for you. Here was my hand—knave and ace of club, queen and knave of diamonds and king of hearts. Clubs are trumps, mark you, and I had but one point between me and freedom. As you may think, I declined his proposal. He knew that it was the crisis, and he undid his tunic. I threw my doiman on the ground. He led the ten of spades. I took it with my ace of trumps. One point in my favor. The correct play was to clear the trumps, and I led the knave. Down came the queen upon it, and the game was equal. He led the eight of spades, and I could only discard my ace of diamonds. Then came the seven of spades, and the hair fairly stood straight up on my head. We each threw down a king at the final. He had won two points, and my beautiful hand had been mastered by his inferior one. I could have rolled on the ground as I thought of it. They used to play very good ecarte at Watier’s in the year '10. 1 say it—I, Brigadier Gerard. The last game was now for all. This next hand must settle it one way or the other. He undid his sash and I put away my sword belt. He was cool, this English- man, and I tried to be also, but the per- spiration would trickle into my eyes. The deal lay with him and I may confess to you, my friends, that my hand shook so that I could hardly pick my cards from the rock. But when I raised them what was the first thing that my eyes rested upon? It was tho king, the king, the glori- ous king of My mouth was open to declare it wheh ‘the words were frozen ane lide hy -<he*anpearasce of ny com- ra He held his cards in his hand, but his jaw had fallen and his eyes were staring over my shoulder: with the most dreadful expression of consternation and surprise. I whisked round, and I myself was amazed at what I saw. Three men weré' standing quite close to us—fifteen meterszat the farthest. The middle one was of.a good height, and yet not too tall—about, the same height, in fact, that I am myself. He was clad in a dark uniform, with a small cocked hat and some sort of white plume upon the side. But I had little thought: far his dress. It was his face, his gaunt cheeks, his beak of a nose, his masterful blue eyes, his thin, firm slit of a mouth, which made one feel that this was @ wonderful man, a man of 2 million. His brows were tle€ into a knot, and he cast such a glance at my poor Bart from under them that one by one the cards came fluttering down from his nerveless fingers. Of the two other men, one, who had a face as brown and as hard as though it had been carved out of old oak, wore a bright red coat, while the other, @ fine portly man with bushy side whiskers, was in a blue jacket with gold facings. little distance behind three orderlies were holding as many horses, while an escort of lancers were waiting in the rear. “Heh, Crawford, what. the devil's this?” asked the thin ma: “DPD you hear, sir,” cried the man with the refcoat. “Lord Wellington wants to know what this means.” My poor Bart broke into an account of all that had. ocourred, but that rock face never softened for an instant. “Pretty fine, ‘pon my word, Gen. Craw- ford,” he broke in. “The discipline of this mount his horse and ride off with hanging head. I could not endure it. I threw my- self before this English general.. I pleaded with him for my friend. I told him how I, Col. Gerard, would witness what a dashing officer he was. Ah, my eloquence might have melted the hardest heart; I brought tears to my own eyes, but none to his. My _voice broke and I could say no more. “What weight do you put on your mules, sir, in the French service?” he asked. Yes, that was all this phiegmatic Englishman “Remove the prisoner to the rear.” had to answer to these burning words of mine. That was his reply to what would have made a Frenchman weep upon my ulder. Vhat weight on a mule’ with the red coat. “Two hundred and ten pounds,” said I. + “Then you load them deucedly badly,” said Lord Wellington. “Remove the pris- oner to the rear.” . His lancers closéd’in upon me, and I was driven mad}‘ad~I thought that the game had been th fy hands and I ought at that moment to be a free man. I held the cards up in front‘of the general. “See, my lord!’ ¥l cried, “I played for my freedom and‘'¥ won, for, as you per- celve, I hold the®kf For the first tite @ slight smile softened his gaunt face. = “On the contra#y,” ‘Said he, as he mount- ed his horse, “itwas I who won, for, as you perceive, myking holds you.” (@hdiena.) GOULD’S :PAiIL OF MILK. So Good He Thought They Had Milked Anethér Cow. ret From an Exchange. ’*) ' J..L.. Ingalshe of.@len Falls, N., Y., re- lates this anecdote af:the late Jay Gould: © On a warm morning, a few years since, while engaged In some surveying opera- ticns on the Carleton farm, in the town of Hampton, Washington county, I was sceccmpanied by J¢hn Carleton, Yhe elder of the brothers, then owning the farm. In advance of the main party and load- ed with a heavy transit and other impedi- ments, on reaching the summit of a rocky pasture field, now grown up to bushes, briers, etc., we sat down to recover breath. Pointing to the piles of debris and great irregular excavations in the hillside, my companion said: “Did you know that Jay Gould did this?” My answer attested both my astonishment | and my interest, and my informant con- tinued: “Yes, I was a boy then, and my father, Herman Carleton, for the sum of, I think, $1,500, conveyed to Jay Gould, either as principal cr agent, the right to excavate and occupy to any extent a certain tract for the purpose of manufacturing roofing slate. The work was carried on quite ex- tensively for several years, but for va- rious seasons was finally abandoned. “He caught me once, very nicely. One forenoon I was up about the works look- ing at the operations of the workmen, and Mr. Gould said to me: “Young man, do you suppose you can get me a drink of milk down yonder somewhere?” “1 was down at the farmhouse in short order, and soon started back for the hill with the pail of milk. In my eagerness I stepped on a sharp stone, tripped and fell, spilling almost all the milk. Here was a fix. My pennies were gone, and I dared not show my nearly empty pail at either end of the route, for the evidence would ‘be fairly against me that I drank the milk. “Crossing a small brook I dipped my pail and examined the contents. It looked rather blue, and tasted pretty flat, but as the pail was not yet half full I dipped ogain and went on. Feeling rather shaky as to the result, I watched till Mr. Gould was very busy talking, when, handing him the pail, I slipped away. “Well, I kept away from the works for a number of days, but presently I was back again. All went as usual. No one noticed me, and I began to feel at hpme again. I was watching some interesting operation of the workmen, when I felt a touch on my shoulder. “Can you get me another drink of milk?” said Mr. Gould, who stood at my side. He handed me a little pail and this time a 10- cent piece. Returning with my pail full of milk and half the money in my pocket, I went straight up and handed over both pail and money. “Giving me the five cents change, Mr. Gould sat down on a rock and took a good ‘pull’ from the pail. Deliberately wiping bis lips and with a look of inquiry, he re- marked: Lr “ ‘Say, bub, get this at the same place you did the other? ' “Scratching in the dirt with my bare toes, I answered,i not very boldly, ‘Yes, sir.’ Another taste from the pail; then another look at te. ' ““*Milked a different cow, didn’t they?” “I couldn't stand it*any longer, and told the whole story.* Mr. Gould lay back on the ground, kicked uyé his heels and fairly screamed with laughter. I slid off out of the way, leaving hiny sitting there. What he was thinking of, of -whether I gave hii the idea of watering stock, I don’t know. + 56¢2—___ Brother-in-Law Affection. From the Chicago Infer-Ocean. Justice Brown (of the Texas supreme court has raised, an; interesting question regarding the affaction that may exist be- tween brothers-in‘law. When Mr. Bracken died and his friends were notified by wire the message failed to reach his brother- in-law, Mr. Coffin, and that gentleman could not attend the funeral. He brought suit for damages against the telegraph company and secured judgment for $500. The case was carried to the supreme court and the decision reversed on the ground that Mr. Coffin was not so related to the deceased as to suffer severely from the failure to receive the message in time to mingle his tears with the others at the grave. Justice Brown read the decision of the court and drew a clear distinction be- tween blood relation and that by marriage. It was not a case like that of a brother or a father, but only a brother-in-law. It is row necessary in Texas to get,at the pos- sibly close relationship between brothers- in-law and the affection they may bear for each other. It would be unfortunate for a man to sue for damages for not being promptly notified of the death of his mother-in-law in Texas. ” asked the man ORIGIN OF EASTER Some of the Quaint and Curious Cus- toms of the Day. ELABORATE CLEBRATION IN BU How the Date is Determined and the Ancient Observances. THE USE OF THE EKG@ On Sunday, April 14, that being Easter day, the Christian nations of the world will celebrate one of the principal feasts of the church and in every quarter of the globe the day will be honored by rite and ceremony after the peculiar custom of the people thereabouts. In Catholic countries and communities and in lands and places professing the faith of the Church of Eng- land the day will be one of high ceremony, celebrated “with song and psalm and with altars heaped high with flowers symbolical of the occasion, - ‘In this city, aside from the religious char- acter of the occasion, the day: will take another feature. Society will lay aside her gown of sackcloth, tastefully made, you may be sure, shake the ashes from her hair, Nft her eyes that have been lowered so demurely for forty days and array her- self in bright colors such as Solomen in all ‘his glory dared hardly dream of. The avenues will be thronged with masterpieces of the modiste that will swish by with merry crinkle of stiff skirts and leave an odor of violets and lilies of the valley in their wake. The churches will blossom as a garden with floral headgear and the colors of the rainbow will take pointers from multi-hued silk waists. Every woman will go to church, some to worship and some to see those who come to worship. There'll be men at church, too. Hard hearted will he be, indeed, who cannot experience some measure of sym- pathy in the feeling of gratification over good clothes and new effects which pos- sesses his wife and daughters and the fem- inine world generally. The Episcopal .and Roman Catholic churches of this city make elaborate prep- arations for the celebration of Easter cere- monies and other denominations in lesser degrees of rite and ceremony acknowledge the day and the symbol of its observance. Music and services of song are principal features in all churches, and the humblest chapel sings its Easter hymn. The Observance in Russia. Every country has its own peculi@r cus- toms for the celebration of Easter. In Russia, under the auspices of the Greek church, the celebration is very elaborate. Every city and village devotes itself to the occasion. As the hours of 10 or 11 o'clock on the Saturday evening preceding Easter Sunday aproaches the streets and thor- ovghfares are crowded. The sidewalks are so thronged that multitudes are forced to walk in the streets. The churches are crowded to suffocation, from the smallest chapels to the largest cathedrals. Most of the people are standing, there being no ac- commodations in the body of the church edifice. Some will be there early and will stand for hours on the cold stone floor waiting for the hour of 12 to arrive, at which time the celebration of Easter is to begin. At the stroke of 12 the choir begins a chant And the priest solemnly an- nounces that Christ is risen. The congre- gation replies: ‘He is risen, indeed.” Then begins the crowding toward the altars, for in the larger churches a dozen priests or more officiate at as many altars. The crowd is hungry and are anxious to ap- proach the priest, that the food which they brought may be blessed. The priest takes a portion from each person's stock of edi- bles. The church services are then con- ducted, at the conclusion of which the crowd goes home. - The celebration of Easter does not end with the Easter festival, however, but often continues for a week. As a general thing the more prominent places of busi- ness are closed for three days, and all government employes have a holiday. Many of the people require a week to recover from the feasting of the first three days, and, in consequence of the inordinate eat- ing and drinking, there is a great increase in sickness and in drunkenness. A great many sudden deaths occur, caused princi- pally by the change in diet. For seven weeks prior to Easter the peo- ple have denied themselves nutritious food, and have confined themselves to fish, vege- tables and oil. When free rein is given to their appetite at the end of their fast it often proves too much for them, and they die in the midst of their festivities. Calling is extensively practiced at Easter time, and the callers usually drink at every place. Wher the caller enters the parlor he greets the hostess with the customary “Christ is risen,” and receives m turn, “Christ is risen indeed.” Then the visitor and the hostess exchange eggs, after which sandwiches and drinks are brought in. If the caller does not want to eat, he at least will not be rude enough to refuse to drink. Then he departs and goes through the same form at the next house. Acquaintances meet in the street, and after saluting each other they embrace and kiss three times, denoting a greeting in the name of the Holy Trinity. In spite of the religious character of the people, extending through all classes, the strict observance of Easter docs not prevent thieves from making that day an occasion for prosecut- ing their calling. While the family and servants are at church the enterprising burglar makes his rounds and plies his business. Of the 90,000,000 of subjects in the Rus- sian empire, 70,000,000 profess the faith of the Greek Church. In 1862 the people celebrated the one-thousandth anniversary of Russia’s conversion to Christianity, the Greek faith having been formally adopted as the national religion in the year 862. The Date of Easter. The appropriate time for the celebration of Easter has long been a subject of contro- versy. As early as the second century the eastern and western churches disputed this point. Many of the eastern Christians ad- vocated celebrating Easter on the 14th day of the first Jewish month, for they consid- ered it about equivalent to the Jewish passover. On the other hand, the western churches celebrated Easter on the Sunday after the 14th day, contending that it was in commemoration of the resurrection of Christ. Finally in the year 325 the council of Nice decided the matter, upholding the day celebrated by the western church. The other custom they branded as a heresy. Having decided that Easter should be cele- brated on a Sunday, the question was still open as to what Sunday in the month. It transpired that in the western church °a cvstom was already in vogue of determin- ing the day by the Metonic Cycle. For a few hundred years there was a further dispute about the selection of the day of the month until in 664, at the council of Whitby, the controversy was settled by the adeption of the Roman usage. The Grego- rian calendar was adopted in 1582, and it was Gecided to continue to determine Eas- ter by the moon. An Imaginary Moon. It is not the actual moon in the heavens nor the mean moon of astronomy that de- termines Easter, but an imaginary moon, and, according to its movements, it always fcllows the real moon, sometimes by several days. Thus it happens that the 14th of the calendar moon gererally falls on the 15th or 16th of the real moon, and Easter day is always the first Sunday after the paschal full moon; that is, the full moon which happens upon or next after the 2ist of March. If the full moon should fall on a Sunday, Easter would be the Sunday there- after. Easter can never happen before the 22d of March, or after the 25th of April. The early Christian Church celebrated Easter for eight days, but as time progress- ed the celebration was reduced in length, until in the eleventh century it continued but two days. In those days Easter was made a season of merriment and feasting. Alms were dispensed and the poor were fed in the churches. Slaves were freed, and to the popular sports and pastimes were add- ed farcical exhibitions in which even the clergy took part. On Easter day the peo- ple greeted each other with the expression “He is risen,” to which the reply was “He ig risen indeed.” This custom 1s still re- A Helping Hand. Quaker Oats has helped millions across perilous places in life. It will help you. Delicious, too! Sold only in 2 ib. Packages. tained in the Greek Church, and in some parts of Russia caged birds are loosed and red eggs exchanged. Origin of the Easter Egs. ‘The crigin of the use of the Easter egg ig thought to have been symbolizing the resurrection. The use of the egg as sym- bolical of renewed life can be traced back much further than the early church, how- ever. It has been connected with the cus- toms of the ancient Egyptians, Persians, Greeks and Romans, and Schwart says it was customary among the Parsees to dis- tribute red egxs at their spring festival. Many of the popular observances con- nected with Easter are of pagan origin, and traceable to the feast of the Saxon deity Eastre, and the Anglo-Saxon name of April was Easter-monath. The celebration of Kaster was marked by kindling of bonfires and other rites. The church tinding it in- expedient to crush out this pagan rite, con- cluded to give a Christian significance to it. Joy at the rising of the natural sun and at the awakening of nature from the death of winter was easily transformed in- to joy at the rising of the Sun of Right- eousness and at the resurrection of Christ from the grave. The custom of lighting bonfires was superseded by the lighting of immense church tapers, some of them weighing 300 pounds. —_—_——_ HE MISSED THE FINISH. But the Drummer Had All He Wanted of the Race. From the Lewiston Journal. A prim man with a shimmering silk hat alighted from the train at one of our Maine villages and got into the hotel pung on the rear sei After the hotel proprietor had carefully tucked the man’s grips beneath the seat they started. The landlord owns scme good horses and so does the rival liveryman, who just then came spanking up behind with a high-headed nag. The landlord gave one look over his shoulder and then whipped up. ‘The chunks of frozen snow commenced to whiz past as the big horse quickenéd his stride, and the pung slammed into the “thank-you-ma’ms” with a violence that scared the little runner on the back seat. oun to his hat he leaned forward and ped: ae mither, I don’t care to ride s0 fatht.”” The driver turned his head over his shoul- der and his beard streamed behind like a banner at the fore-peak. “Do you know who that is behind?” “No, thir,” replied the passenger, dodg- ing a chunk of snow that came like a stone from a catapult. “Well that fellow is trying to run me out of the livery business In this ere town and he tries to whang up by me every time I catch a passenger. I'm holding the ribbins over a hoss that ain't néver been beat yit, and you can just bet your neck- tie that cuss ain't going to crow over me yet awhile.” And he gave the horse an- other slash, braced himself and away the turnout tore down the village street. All of the villagers know of the contest that is going on this spring, and so the drummer, through the haze of his blurred vision, saw the grinning storekeepers at their doors. Knots of people were out yelling encouragement to both sides; wo- men laughed from windows. “Now you're off, Zane!’ “Give it to him, Ike.’ “A little more whalebone speed!” It was a sensational advent into town— teo sensational for the drummer, who swore ineffectually into the tangle of the driver's whiskers. The pitches were deeper and more frequent. The drummer had to cling to his hat with both hands, and when he struck the crossing at the post office he was unpre- fared. The pung gave a mighty flop, and out bounced the passenger high in air, ata, on his back and rolling in the slush. The crowd shouted lustily to the hotel man, but he was too busy with his rival to notice that he had lost off his man. He mistook the yells for further encour- agement, and, standing up in his pung, he commenced pounding and yelling, too. At last around a bend in the street, dis- RSS ea Saye their shouts an ie whick! whick! of their whips couk still be heard. pene The bystanders picked up the little run- ner, some one slicked up his hat as clean as faery a neat farmer, with a corner of orse et, wiped o: ut he still lool pretty ly when he si ed to trudge on Coward tne hotel. He met the hotel man driving back look- ing for him. “Wal, there,” said that individual, beam- ing on him with. bland unconsciousness, “I vum I never thought to ask you if you wanted to stop down to the stores. But you hadn't ought to got off, for you missed seeing me whale that feller out in good shape.” ———--o+___ Waked Up the Wrong Tabby, From the Kansas City Star. A very dignified black and white cat was crossing 12th street at the corner of Broad- way last Wednesday night when she was espied by a Scotch terrier prowling about in the neighborhood. Pussy had just ar- rived beneath the electric light at the cor- ner when the dcg charged upon her full tilt. Taken by surprise, she made a few leaps forward, but seeing her retreat cut off by a passing cable car, she faced about, determined to make a stand against the enemy. | The terrier was possessed of more dis- cretion than valor, and when pussy turned on him he stopped short, out of reach of the claws sh< held up ready to strike at him, Then he began to bark, which only made the cat the more furious. Two or three newsboys, a “red-hot” peddler and a pcliceman gathered at the corner, inter- ested speciators of the encounter. They tcok issue’on the side of the dog, and with cries of “Sick "em; sick ‘em! urged him on to battle. Pussy’s eyes showed green and yellow and scarlet under the electric light, her back was arched almost double, ard her tail stood out like a fox brush. She kept up a continuous spitting, while the terrier barked incessantly. The crowd on the corner grew bigger and the tight grew interesting. The policeman shouted words of encouragement to the dcg, but the gleaming eyes of the angry cat kept him at a distance. Suddenly a stone thrown by a boy rolled between the combatants. The dog turned to look for the thrower. It was the mistake of his life. With one leap pussy was on his back, tearing clawfuls of hair out of his head. The terrier turned tail and ran, but pus- sy held on tight to his long hair, all the while clawing his back. Down Broadway they went, while the crowd cheered for the cat, who still clung on her foe's back like the woman bareback rider at the cir- cus. When they got opposite an alley pussy dropped lightly off, and saying “Ta, ta, dcggy,” darted away in the darkness. The terrier will hereafter be more circumspect in his manner of approaching respectable tabbies after dark. —_—_—_-o+—____ The Man and the Place. From the Chicago Record. Joaquin Miller's stand in advocacy of Ha- waiian royalty qvalifies him pre-eminently for the pcst of poet laureate to our na- tional administration, HID FROM US. A Hindoo Fakir Says Occidentals Can- mot Know Magic. From an Ex Sayed Jamal is one of the three high caste Hindco fakirs whom Henry Ballen- tine, formerly consul to Bombay, has in- duced to leave their country against their religious prejudices, and, under the guid- ‘ance of his nephew, Edwin Rood, come to this country. He was asked the other day in New York to tell something about Hin- doo magic. “Our magic,” he said. “Yes, they try to learn about it. Persons can’t come from England and France and America to learn abcut it. One American told me he was go- ing to make a business of it. You make a business of everything. He said he was go- ing to get at the bottom of it if he stayed in India a year. Think of a year. I have been in India thirty times that long, and if I stay a thousand years I can’t do what that man was going to do in a year. Ages wouldn’t be enough for him to learn the mysteries that he was going to give his life and the lives of generations after him, and then perhaps some distant descendant might know something of what he wanted to know. “You can’t make a business of it. You must make a religion of it. And you can’t be converted to the religion; you must be born in it, and your forefathers for genera- tions before you.” 5 Sayed Jamal was asked about some of the wonderful feats performed by his caste. “You have heard of things that I have Lever seen or heard of,” he answered. “You people have big eves and a large imagina- tion, and you like to tell what you have seen and make it bigger each time. You ke to write great books on immense things and have them grow for your read- ers. I have seen Americans and English- , men in India, who have thought they knew all about our magic, when they had seen hardly any of it, and then they have told what perhaps they imagined. “A man throwing a rope into the air and then climbing it and disappearing was never done in India. There is no such thing. I think I know all that is done, and this thing is not among them. Yet every white man who speaks to me of magic asks about it. It is foolish. I know why it is not true, but you couldn’t understand me if I told you. “Then the tall mango trees! Another story for books. There was never one gown more than four feet high, and your travelers write about them growing into mighty trees. It is silly. I know all about the mango. I never heard of a white man’s —— making one less than ten feet igh. “I have been asked about theosophy many times That is another western invention that we know nothing about. It. must be some more business. A great many persons who think they are very wise, and are able to look beyond the sky, come to India to learn about theosophy, and they are well received, because we are always polite to strangers. “Many of these persons are women. Your wemen are very strange. They come and tell us that theosophy originated with us, and we listen, and perhaps nod our heads, and they say ‘We knew it.” Then they talk a great deal about what we have never heard of before and don’t believe, and we listen and don’t contradict. We don’t un- derstand them and so keep silent. They telk a great deal about the occult, and how much we know about things that we have never before heard of, and don’t want to hear of. Then they write books about the wonderful information they got from us. “Yes, your people are clever at learning about things, and your magicians are cun- nirg; but you know nothing about real ™megic, about the powers that lie within the religion that is a part of a man after being sought for through generations, and to which every organ and faculty is a servant. And you never can know, for it is knowledge for which you are in every way unfitted morally, mentaily and physically. A Stady in Grammar. From the Cincinnati Tribune. A teacher in one of the lower grades of a city school was endeavoring to impress upon her pupils the fact that a plural sub- ject takes a verb in the plural. “Remember,” she said; “girls are, boys are; a girl is, a boy is. Now, do you un- derstand it?” Every hand in the room was raised in assent. “Well, then,” continued the teacher, “who can give me @ sentence with girls— plural, remember?” This time only one hand was raised, and that belonged to a pretty little miss. “Please, ma’am,” she said, with all the assurance of primitive reasoning, “I can give a sentence. ‘Girls, are my hat on straight? ” Giadston Private Talks. From the Westminster Budget. Mr. Fowler's speech on the Indian cotton duties the other day is said to have been one of those rare public orations which actually influence votes. Most of the speeches which do this are made in private. I remember once asking a friend of Mr. Gladstone what kind of arts he used to employ to bring over hi or wavering partisans. reply. “He never wheedled; he simply over- whelmed.” The amount of energy and even of rhetorical skill which Mr. Glad- stone would throw into these informal colloquies was often prodigious. “Good heavens! good heavens!” said a well-known politician once, as he wiped the perspira- tion from his forehead and sank exhaust- ed into his chair, “Good heavens there is nothing left of me!” “Why,” asked his friend, “what have you been doing “Talking with Mr. Gladstone for an hour,” was the reply. Not Today. From the Boston Transcript. Visitor—“And is your mistress so very {lI? I am exceedingly sorry. Do they think she will die today?” Manservant—‘She be very bad, mum, but she can’t die today. This is cook's day off." Uncle Hira: dogs yer must edjicate ’em to it. I tool much trouble to rear me dog thar ez I did with my son, Ike! “But thet dog is no good!” Uncle Hiram—“Neither is Ike.”—Life