Evening Star Newspaper, June 20, 1896, Page 19

——————————— STEALING THE PADRE By FDGAR MAYHEW BACON. (Copyright, 1906, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) PART L When the king was in his twentieth year the campaign of the Agua Alta occurred. Upon resigning commagd of the army I had promised Pepeta that my fighting days were over. but from the time that the first gun was fired I fretted and chafed. My oranges and grapes no longer engrossed me, the rose garden was untouched and the Hennequin aloes went to pole unheeded. From the veranda of my house there was lear view across valleys and forests to a the mountains of the Agua Alta, and I my time in contemplation of that t till Pepeta herself brought me my sword and bade me go and join Gen. Maduro. ne at I should say it, but I went I had no anxiety, no re- Going as a volunteer, I was a soldier of my heart bounded with asm as I bade adieu to my ached Maduro’s ond day after d away. I 4 ed me in but would us on till w aduro, whose ned by Keen not have to s the & no atten- seemed to A soldier reads such in- ian knows the He does not need to hear ‘mur of sullen voices 1s it means insubordina- our nights have d that and sald I, inter- weakness. “Per and talk to the me ded, but add middle of them, and in the ve Who was with ilew every a mome me at t old wardog “Arroya! It 1 it seemed, the a thourand throa I knew the braying of at led’ the shouted the off their exci my Fand tor si- ening, as docile as “Yes, comrades; it ts ory my Arroya, who ard could not has stirred my . for it tells fergotten the old reddened the Chico > the wall at Hon- c ght with you, to 2 dar and your v ries; not captain now. but as pur com- are In the face of the justify iven you. mr ds of glory in the they had time shcut that was m in cheers for Maduro's_posi- but 1 will y th he con nt he greet a warmth of e: not doubt the sin- chance to strike a If I could give the i restore their es- I do with an enemy harp- gin to b . The is that are led by a Gladness Comes Wit a better understanding of the transient » of the many phy. ical ills, which vanish before proper ef- forts—gentle efforts—pleasant eftorts— rightly directed. There is comfort in the knowledge, that so many forms of sickness are not due to any actual dis ease, but simply to a constipated condi- tion of the system, which the pleasant family la: e, Syrup of Figs, prompt- ly removes. That is why it is the only remedy with millionsof families, andis everywhere esteemed so highly by all who value good health. Its beneticial effects are due to the fact, that itis the one remedy which promotes internal cleanliness without debilitating the organs on which it acts. It is therefore all important, in order to get its bene- ficial effects, to note when you pur- chase, that you have the genuine arti- ele, which is manufactured by the Cali- fornia Fig Syrup Co. only and sold by allreputable druggists. If in the enjoyment of good health, and the em is regular, laxatives or other remedies are then not needed. If afflicted with any actual disease, one may be commended to the most skillful physicians, but if in need of a laxative, one should have the best, and with the well-informed everywhere, Syrup of Figs stands highest and is most largely used and gives most general satisfaction. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1896--TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. “The wife, or rather the widow, of San-} again. “General! General Maduro!” chez, the chief who was taken" “Whose head you sent as a present to the king?” “yhe same. They insist that his widow is a witch wh protects her followers with charms and spells, and that she is followed with blind devotion by the rebels, who idol- ize her.”” “Truly that is an entertaining story,” said I, thinking wh.t a good correspondent some journal lost when Maduro adopted the pro- fession of arms. “Besides that,” he continued, “the Agua Alta seems to be bewitched. ‘The Agua Alta fs a swift stream that is fed by tributaries from numberless moun- tain ravines. When there is a rain it be- comes a swollen, raging torrent. This river was the boundary of the territory of the rebels, whose capital, El Libertad, 1s perched upon a precipitous hill crest that is almost inaccessible. The city lies only six miles beyond the Agua Alta, but Gen. Ma- duro had not been able to cross the stream with his artillery. Three times he had es- d to butid bridges, and each time the river had swept the structure away. The only permanent crossing was an old Indian bridge that swung like a hammock from cliff to cliff. Over that no large bodies of iren could be moved, nor the guns, without which an attack upon the stronghold would be us It was here that the father of the king had been Killed fifteen years before, and I knew the ground well. he general and I conversed, a rattle of us both to our feet. “They he cried, running out as he spoke. Several men had fallen; others were scat- tered find. seeking such shelter as they could A wounded man crawled toward a wagon, behind which a group of i taken refuge, but a second ball him before he reached On the t of the camp the officers succeeded in forming the men, who were for the most part old soidi 1 returned an ineffectual fire only provoked a mocking yell n our assailants, The confusion, however, did not last be- nl the first few moments of attack. A gree of order was restored, and then a simultaneous, sweepmg charge from the sides of the camp drove the guerrillas from their position, but none of them were killed, while we counted a dozen of our force life- less and more than double that number who were wounded. After this a ronger icket Ine was pushed out and partial quiet sue ced. With the sound of firing the old habit of my military youth reasserted itself, and I scemed to understand things without see- ng them: to reason without thinking. jeneral, let me have thirty men with fifty rounds each,” I requested. uro waved his hand toward the al- r quieting camp. “Take as many men as you like, senor. It id that you know every veteran in the army by name. There are many who have serve under you; choose for your- kly chose thirty good stanch { of the host that pressed their service upon me. It was an embarrassment I called to the disappointed ores that I was obliged to reject, and so We made kaste, on fcot, to reach the bridge. I felt assured that with speed we the rebels, as they would the attack, having, as they hed their night wo: Weil, eut Out some more of a seri- r them before the moon rose. ck I was at tie river. We were cur appointment. Sappor- ant, Whose mettle 1 knew i that we might allow them to Ret upon the bridge, and tnen, by cutting away the end, dash them all into. the he plan had its merits, but for lid not like it. I thought ivantage to Gestroy all communi- “n the two sides of the rive is, I have a prejudice against that way of fighting. We i behind the bowlders that were he side of the stream’s prec We were to fire as the fore- © eremy reached the bridge, m from the flank and rear and chasing them acress into their own country if our fire left any of them to very Ieng when about men approached, with no appar fon of danger. Not a sound, th from behind the was almost reached, 5 my pe the word of con and then the volley blazed ou Veterans rose with a yell and The moon was now up, and we » very distinctly by the bridge a of men, who forgot their re- when confronted -mell they ran for did much damage arged. retribution. fe, and our buliets among them. No doubt the rebels’ fears magnified our The Veterans Rose With a Ye numbers, and I think th i old soldiers would have been a match ny three of them at least. The con- rated fire trat poured into the crowd the discrepancy in numbers > our forces tore even. Their le to cress was like the flowing wa ter through the small neck of a large bot- tle. We had an excellent ortunity to pay pes Having no re to j ; in an involuntary descent to the hott > chasm, I he! my men back till the last of the rebe! nearly crossed, and then tried to pre: some sort of a formation, not kno what we might meet when the foe were heartened by finding themselves upon their own territory. The bridge was swinging violently from tke rush of their mad ri treat, so that we lost a little time In cros: ing, and a good many of them escaped us. We pursued them for elout a mile, and rothing shert of total destruction could one of my hard- have surpessed the punishment they re- ceived. I was more than satisfied, know ing the importance that this skirm’ would have in restoring the morale of the d called a halt and we were com- mencing to retire, when a groan from a figure that lay by the path arrested my attention just as a soldier stepped aside and raised his rifle to give the coup de grace, an act of mercy under the cireum- stances, since before morning the wild beasts would glean where we had reaped. In the next instant there was an exclama- tion of surpris aint Iago! It is a wo- man!" Interposing to prevent the intended shot, I bent over the slight figure that lay full in the moonlight,with loosened hair stream- ing about the white face and big eyes that hone like those of a tigress brought to bay. he seemed to be beyond the power of mo- tion, but there was no lack of intelligence in that glance. Sapportez had come near, and with an oath exclaimed: “It is the very one; that is the witch herself!"" Was it true, then, after all, what the soldier said, that the insurgents were gen- eraled by @ woman? If so, the capture was an important one. I demanded that she give an account of herself, but whether she could speak or not I did not know. At all events, she kept a resolute silence. “Speak, you she devil!’ and one of my rcugh fellows put out his hand as though to shake her. I sternly ordered that no harm be done the prisoner, and then with such gentleness as the circumstances per- mitied I lifted the little figure to ascer- tain where her wound was. The blood was soaking the side of her jacket. She was a mere girl in appearance and was clad in a nondescript costume that was half fem- inine and half milita “Some girl who had gone to meet her lover at the bridge when he returned from the attack upen our camp,” I said. “No, general,” protested another of my men; “I saw her once hefore. That wo- man was with the foremost of those who passed our ambush tonight, and I have seen her, too, when her husband, Sanchez, was executed.” I could feel the start of the form in my arms as that name was mentioned and saw the fierce look of rage and hate which she flashed upon the speak- cr. Then I knew that this was really the very crown of our victory. PART II. In a moment she turned her face to me 19 She thrust her arm against my chest, nearly forcing herself from my grasp by the sud- denness and fury of the effort. I under- stood the hatred of the man who had sent her husband's head as a present to the king. “Not General Maduro, my child. I am Arroya.” For though she was an enemy she was also a woman, and I pitied the little creature. At the name her whole ex- Pression changed and she looked at me with wonder and questioning. ‘Arroya? Arroya who was ai the Chico?” she cried. “Yes, I am that Arroya.” “Save me—as you are brave and merci- ful, save me,” she faltered. She looked at the soldiers as though she would have them further away. Understanding that she might have something for my car alone, 1 erdered the men to retire a little way, and wher they had done so she spoke quickly, though with evident pain: “Do you remember Colonel Poey, who Was with you at the Chico?” “Poey, my dearest companion in arms; he died long since. I owed my life to him cree on the battlefield. Why do you speak of him? “Because I am Colonel Poey’s daughter.” The news stunned me. I words to express my astonis though in a dream I heard her mortally hurt. But I would not die out the consolation of the church of my religion. Oh, if you are really that Arroya that my father loved, get me a padre that I wey, confess and receive absolution before I die. It would not be difficult, I thouxht, to do as she wished, if I had but a place to leave her; for it was very evident that an at- tempt to move her to our camp would be fatal before we could reach it. “Is there ro house or cabin near?’ I ked. “There is a hunter's cabin about half a mile from here,” she gas “It is in the footpath that turns to the left as you go toward the river.” So we lifted her carefully and carried her siowly to the hut she had indicated, and in that rude and inhospitable shelter we laid cur burden, who had fainted from the loss of blood and the pain of her jour “Quick,” I directed Sapportez. lake @ dozen men with you for safe- carry this (a note I scribbled to the general) and bring back your padre.’ Kut Sapportez said: “General, we have no. padre in the camp. We had two, but one died of the fever end the other accompanie his bedy back to the city to celebrate m: for him.” Here was a dilemma which had not been icipated. Just then Antonio came up a to me. “Antonio,” Libertad?” “As well as I know your house, senor. I I asked, “do you know El was born and rals ‘Stay, Sapportez. You will not go to the camp, but I will leave you in command here to guard the prisoner. Dispose your men well, recollecting that you are in an enemy's country. Place your pickets car fully; guard the lady in the hovel yonder with your life, if necessary, against any harm, but do not on any ‘ount permit a rescue, and rather than have her taken from you alive, kill her with your own hand first. Do you understand?* or. Perfectly. I am to kill the d there.” — No, ni T exclaimed. the last alternative; your life will no lon; from “That is only as when ou find that serve to keep her 1. She fs to be cared for “I am Col, ‘oey’s daughter.” until I return. Now, d “I understand, senor. ‘Then come, Antonio.” We reached the main path, and I had turned toward El Libertad before Antonio, who was a wi drilled servant, ,ventured to ask a qu you comprehend?” jon. “May I be pardoned, senor—but where are we going?” “To El Libertad. You are to show me some way which we may enter the city undetected.” “But, senor! To attack the garrison? Only two of us?” “No, no. But only to steal the padre, Antonio."” We had gone another mile before the man again addressed me. “Pardon, my general, but here are three dead by the path.” “Well, what of it?” “Their clothes might be convenient as a disguise.” We approached them, and some night creature fled snarling away into the dark. I exchanged my coat and hat for those of a dead rebel, and Antonio did the same, hiding ours in a convenient place. Then we pushed on rapidly toward the city, my man leading as we drew near, till we reached a shaded wall, at the end of which was a little white house. Upon the wall he got, and I followed in silence. At the littie house we clambered down again into an overgrown garden, and up a circuitous path that was only broad enough to per- mit ug to travel in single file, but which wa worn hard with frequent use. It seemed a though we had made a detour of half a mile, constantly ascending, when Antonio departed from the path by a trail that was hardly visible in the moonlight, and a few moments later we were removing an over- growth of vines from the dark mouth of a walled culvert that plerced the masonry defended El Libertad. “It is the old drain,” whispered Antonio. “There is a lumber shed now on the other and the people have forgotten it. We sed to use it when we would steal from old Pedraza's garden. ted to put foot in the uninviting pas- not knowing what moment I might tecl the fangs of a serpent in my leg: but = was nothing else to do, We r the other extremity in safety, and c ourselves we emerged I Seized Him and Covered His Mouth. Now, where is the priest's house?’ “It is there, on that corner, senor. are two there who live together.” Two? The devil! “No, senor, both padres, I assure you.” “But, look you, Antonio. We do not want two. One will be plenty for our pur- pose. Perhaps they are not at home, as there is no light in the house?” “No, senor,.they are -both at home. Do you see those little red sparks on the veranda?” Sure enough, there were two peints like the eyes of an animal. As we looked one described a semicircle and re- turned to its first position. They were the cigarettes of the reverend companions. “There is no time to be lost, Antonio; you raust take away one of them, and I will kidnap the other. “But how?” asked Antonio. “Listen. You have an errand from the sick. Do you hear that uproar in the dis- tance? That is the noise of a woman wail- Ing over the dead. There will be some wounded there, too. A wounded man has called for the padre. Go quickly, Antonio, end be sure you take the largest one with you, if there is a difference. If you lead him yonder some one will be sure to want him. The servant went. He stole back in the shadow until he had gone far enough to be out of sight of the house on the corner, then, emerging boldly into the street, passed me running, and so came to the padre’s door. I could hear their voices as they spoke, parleying and debating until one of them flung his cigarette into the street and directly passed my hiding place, guided by the invaluable Antonio, There Rising from where I had crouched, as soon as they were out of sight I crossed the street and knocked at the door. The re- maining padre, who ha@ gone inside the house when his companien went away, came to the door, and I<tesought him to accompany me in haste to see a wounded soldier. ua “Bother your wounded man,” he an- swered. “There was a fellow here just now on a similar errand. “Those wounded all_belong to the other ‘city district any- how, and they have padres;enough there of their own to attend to them. I do not like to interfere outside of our own cure.” With this he would have shut! the door in my face, but that I put my foot against it. He was angry at my boldness, but I made haste to say that the wounded man was in his own district and was rich. He was It- tle moved by this, to do him credit, und barely allowed the door to remain open be- tween us while I spoke.; .I was afraid I should have to commence to use force there and that would have been inconvenient. Though he was a small ‘nian, I might be seen carrying him across the street and a rescue would be attempted. However, I had another card in my pa “I was sent by his daughter, padre. Such a beautiful girl, who Is all alone, and she will not be comforted.” The padre reached for his hat. “Why, of course; it docs not become my cloth to refuse to go upon errands of mercy, but you see what time it is?” It was, indeed, 1 o'clock. We were opposite the shed when I seized him, and covering his mouth so that he could make no outery, retired into the tun- nel like a spider who has caught a large and vigorous fly. Here I made haste to secure and gag him well, and n rested and waited for Antonio. He came almost immediately. I heard his approach, and hailed him in a low tone, He ponded joyfully Have you got him, senor?” I have him here; make haste, if we are to finish this night's work in : We hurried with all the speed that we could. We were on the road, if road it could be cailed, being but a_half-made pathway for donkeys agg their burdens, before we set our captive on his feet and spoke to hin “Padre,” said I, “Il am sorry to put you to this inconvenlence, but there is a wo- man wounded in a hut near the ri and she requires confession and absolution be- fore she dies. Will you walk, and so cx- pedite this business, or must we carry you? Do you consent to’ walk?” He nodded bis head, “Do you also ag make no noise or o' bandag: nified on_your honor, y if we from your mouth?’ assent. oner had we loosed him and removed urncd to me with a grave he s quirin nT assented he added: one seemed to know what had become of her. But how c she in your charge? Why this seer Who are you?" “As for that, father, she is a prisoner, and while I was willing to fetch the chureh to her I was not willing to surrender her per- . for that matter, to the to move the Again he sig- all the answer thing more dur- ing the remainder o1 our journey. In our p: not a good one to encourage conversation, and I doubt if the churchman Was accustomed to such violent exer When We finally reached the hut Sapportez saluted and sald: “AIL has heen quiet, pral, but you have come none too soon, I think she is only (for the consolations of the holy I went into the hut with the padre, d the dying woman turr to me a face that was pitifully white, even in the glare of the smoking torch that Sapportez had placed at the doorway. The p ure’s great es Were so full of tude that my heart smote me for havin n the wound. Of all the foes th. I cansed to be slain during my li I never reg } one so much. the cabin to h side, T km qT oi I don hy he She took it in and attem d to kiss it, but I we allow that, but bent over and k her brow in for the sake of her father, the compar ms that I loved. So I left her with the priest In the early dawn from the hov tears in hi “She is g he said, quietly; then, hold- ing out his hand, ade thank you for a chur padre.” at is granted. you add to the ki i jor general, I h’s pardon for th t vio- And now tell me, will ness already done and mit us to bury her That required thought. To have let go back alive, though in the throe death, would have been to Invite con ment of her death and leave her name still a terror to our people; but now, with her nd so attested, there could be no objection. Stull, I was willing to shape the conclusion of the affair so as best to serve the inter- ests of the king. The padre was waiting patiently for my answer. “If at noon tomorrow an escort from El Libertad comes with a flag of truce and re- quires the body it will be delivered at the further end of the bridge.” This was the reply I finally made to hi = her of al- The time agreed up. ved when Gen. Maduro and a ment were In position, with such military pomp as our circumstances permitted, and the chlefiainess lay in state, awaiting the es- cort with the flag of truce. At noon the party had appeared, with the little padre and some d ‘y of the city in the lead, and between them the flag. In the distanc there was a crowd of people, with many women among them, wailing so that w could hear their lamentations above the brawling of the Agua Alta. We delivered the body as I had agreed, and with all possible ceremony and res To this Maduro had consented with d culty and sorely against his will; but when, on the following day, another flag followe: resulting in ne} tions and the capi tion of El Lib , he embraced me, and would have it that I had done alone what he and all his army had failed to do. As I have , Mi 3 Nature was not sinall nor his disposition jeaious. By my front door is a settee, where P. peta sits with her Spanish lace embroid while I in my arm-chair study some au- thority on frait culture or the care of roses. There we were the day after my return from the shortest campaign of my life, and I was telling Pepeta the story I written here. As I told it the tei dropped on her lace and on her hand, and 1 could not see her ¢ were wet on her cheek: Fresh Eggs Were the Weapons. From the Ins Angeles Herali. Mrs. Riley, who keeps a boarding house at 419 Geary street, and Margaret St. Clair, one of her lodgers, engaged yesterday in a novel fight. It is asserted that Miss St. Clair purchased a bag of fresh eggs and requested Mrs. Riley to allow her to cook some of them on her stove. Mrs. Riley ob- jected. Then, it is asserted, Miss St. Clair Bot into action. One after another of the choice eggs were thrown at the landlady's head. The young woman was a good shot and by the time the twelfth egg had be: smashed among the frizzes of Mrs. Riley's front piece that lady was in a deplorable condition. She was mad, too—very mad— and she doubled up her fists and struck her lodger a blow in the eye. Miss St. Clair is something of a pugilist herself. She sent in a right swing, and a cry of pain from Mrs. Riley announced that it had landed. Then there was some close in-fighting. For a time things were pretty lively. The two Women were finally separated by some of the lodgers. Later Mrs. Riley had Miss St. Clair arrested on the charge of battering her with eg, It is generally agreed among naturalists that tortoises are the longest lived of all the animals. There are several instances of them attaining the extraordinary age of 250 years, while one is actually men- tioned as reaching the unparalleled age of 405 years. Notwithstanding these examples, which, of course, are exceptionally rare, the ordinary tortoise only lives, on an average, from 100 to 150 years. Swiss Hotels. From the London Times. Mr. Herbert of the British legation in Berne gives in a recent report some ecuri- ous statistics respecting the magnitude cf the hotel industry in Switzerland. In 1894 there were 7,637 hotels and pensions in that country, with a total of 82,055 bed: The estimated capital invested in these was £20,470,000, the return on which was about T% per cent. Of the tourists-and travelers 30.7 per cent were Germans, 20.7 Bri:ish, 18.9 Swiss, 10.8 French and 6.6 Americans. The number of servants employed in the hotels was 26,810, whose wages amounted to £307,000. It will be remembered that in winter the majority of the hotels are closed and have no servants, while in summer the payment by the master is nominal, the servant relying on fees from travelers. The Foremost Champion in the World for the Advancement of Women, ay Pg This Great American Recommends Paine’s Celery Co propriate object It is a year now since th gaen to Mr Hor se in New York on ¢ or the of the Untte mnendation from . 80 good a mother, suv and women every- nton herself said in rey addresses of affection resenting Lome : to the many Suds Jonathan Edwards’ Salary Was §35 0 Year and Firewood. From the New York Evangelist. We have heard a great deal about plain living and high thinking, with illu ons from men who had hardly wherewithal to keep soul and body together, but who, in spite of that, have written books that have left their impress not only upon their own tim but upon after ge rations. We suspicious of such stor should be quoted to justify the nig ness of those who “receive of the in providing for the wants of those ach the Gospel. But the following in- is too remarkable to be overlook- and we give it to our ‘ade vouch fer its ac amined the 1 Jonathan nglish pre hosuch to devour his Ment at the power of 1 ed that i he y in the philosophi 1 spe, ulation--“of the sons of men.” Yet th great man was settled in a country paris North ould not dre him aw: would find a loc s he went over the mountains and took r on the banks of where hi who mpton, the people, greatness, uge at Stockbridge, the Housatonic, where there was a mission to the Indians, with a few set from east- ern Massachusetts, and there the record tell us that a meeting of the town (not o the church, for in those days there w but one churca, which was law, and the town was to support) held on February perhaps, down in old Virginia ‘2 ashington was celebrating his eighteenth birthday), it was voted that “in case Rev. Jonathan Edwards should settle with them in the work of the ministry,” he should re- ive the sum of 6 15s 4d per year, about It is comforting to know that was in the contract that it should be “lawful money.” When I read this, I confess I could hard- ly believe it—yet no rubbing of eyes or of spectacles couid change the figures; there they stand as they have stood for 146 years, for the benefit of whosoever may have a curlosity to read them. Tho amount se>-ns indeed incredibly small, and perhaps was supplemented by a contribution from the hh Society for the Propagation of the 1 in Foreign Parts. But so far as the record goes, that was the salary, and the whole salary, so far as it was paid in money. But’ with this there was also a provision for keeping the minister warm. If the people cvuld not supply much to stimulate him inwardly, they would at least keep the blood from freezing in his veins by keeping the fire burning on his hear tone. And, accordingly, with this munificent salary, it was voted also that he should have 100 sleigh loads of firewoo: of which the Indians were to furnish eis! ty and the white settlers twenty, which they were to chop in the woods and draw cn sleds to his dwelling house. With this very modest supply of that which could tvy food and clothing, yet with the fire burning brightly on his hearth, Jonathan Edwards wrote books that will be im- mortal in the history of his country. Plain living and high thinking, indeed. ——___++- A Heartfelt Wish. m the Yonkers Statesman. Wheeler—"I see by the papers that a Chi- cago bicycler was held up by two men.” Sprocket (feeling if the court plaster was F in place on his face)—“I wish to gracious it had been me!” Matrimonial Note. Fiom the Philadelphia Review. “Mr. Moddlin,” said that gentleman's wife, in a horrified tone, “you are drunk.” “Guesh I mush be,” assented Moddlin, cheerfully, “or else I wouldn’t (hic) let you shee me in this c’ndishun.” 2 \ Y Z mpound to Those Who Suffer From Nervous Ills, Json ¢ mew aine’s HOW HE CLT Woop. The Trick Played by a Wily Tramp moan Unsuspecting Lady. the worry the Richest It in Am Int Men ookton iCal) Ma ightly Review ing in the utheastern part There 2 ar to be wh * «lan experience with @ tramp | the North American Indi: th the other day which has soured her on | galese Veddas, for exam 2 ss of mendicants. The feliow came | titute of ‘the sense of the ludicrous around and begged for something to eat, | in the h © this sense is by no which w 1 him: found. The richest in- “Have you any work that I can do?” he | ssess it in amplest The sked, after satisfying his hunger. \? » indicatic ental “Well, you might cut that wood,” said erates na ee let's be the lady, pointing to a pile of four-foot | Casion. And I remember ny yuOn gone Oc stove wood in the yard. “How much do! own observing of a sor n per- t for the joi | sen whom we had met aman 5 {of sense, for, aithoug dahon eh easaka: | lauxhed in the right pla Shortly after that she had occasion to fogs niu: so down town, and when she left the house | °F poe oe ae ramp ¥ industriously at werk. Up- vove the actual wo! her Teturn he had fir Pointing at | ™8¥ pt to our pre the wood pile, he said proudly: “What dg | Weds ef Schiller’s in you think of that? Ever seen gn old | ee Bir like who could cut woed as quick that? Oh, I'm a lightning striker, Iam.” | * acknowled that he was a | st worker, and promptly paid him oo money. Shortly after his departure agen lage 3 Went to the woodpile after some sticks, ir gia cieegie Pawel “gel ng was surprised on removing a few rahe on ar phage Ell em to find that cnly the top a ‘centers e The body of the woodpile ¢ Sare just, whatsoever things are pur sisted of uncut four-foot piec arranged | whatsoever th w reve to leave large spaces between them. It | 4/4 is no moi was quite apparent then that consi: tale i tion th “, < of the woed had disappeared and that the | 2°testable occupation than tt a ning sticks had been arranged in that | is a maxim of jurispr us Don as not to show the pile had shrun: i this holds universal! Anvestization disclosed the fact that Some of the wood had been hidden under a side- anc walk, while other large sticks had been Woryiae Site Methes, cone in various [laces around the | From Up-to-Date. 1 some of the fuel taken into the | Mrs. Wild—“I've turned everythin me of Mrs. = ed everything up- ished. Yesterday the lady chanced to |, : : Bee'@ giant stick on top of the woodshed | SU¢,Jo8R, Dut cannot sind my bathing roof, She expects to happen on othe “sna. < ik. pleces here and there around the premi wad Atm SMe 22905 te See for the next two months, and would not worry much surprised to find that the tramp had SE <a wedged some of the fuel in the chimney In the West, top. eee oe From es a Francise Argus : : Gonaianin: Drawback Dick. don’t see why they're From the New York Comme The man who 1s always telling what he would do if he were P: “Yes, one who says, wife speaks to hii Fron: Life. im. makin’ such a fuss about ho: lal Advertiser. ee in the east. We've had ‘em out west as long as I kin rem » ident is the same Mr. What do the run ma’am,” when his | with? Drawback Dick— — — —— THE PROPER TL “I can’t take that cod-liver oil, auntie!” “Why not?” “Mother has taught me when to say no.”