Evening Star Newspaper, January 2, 1897, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 2, 1897-24 PAGES.~ NAILED A LETTER ON ‘THE CHURCH DOOR. WAS WITH MACEO One of His Officers Chats Entertain- ingly About the Dead Hero. DARING DEEDS AND DASHING EXPLOITS He Was Cultivated, Widely Read and a Great Leader. . een VEIN OF GRIM HUMOR Se ae as K, December 29, 1896. NTIL I MET 'TO- n I did not t idle that I should ever serve under a mulatto— ‘ven for the libera- ion of Cuba. So spoke Maj. Ju- io Baz of the Cuban arm: of independ- . temporarily re- in this cit order to recov Baz only remains in try nough to stanch his ttered body” and “build it for bat- He has served as aid-de-camp Maceo, and to him the death 1 hero comes with the force of biew. continu2d the wounded ma- t nowhere more than in the Ar s the feeling against negro blood The present war has done won- toward stamping out color prejudic r, and, in my case, at least, it served make me thoroughly ashamed of my nseless objection to the mulatto as a I first joined Antonio Maceo in Mat- shortly after his elevation to the ieutenant general. I had preferred ving under Gomez, but duty called, and ad to ob However, I had only to spend ten ates with Maceo to become over. In the first place he this long tle agai now,” Za, m! apletely won et all features were and his figure ring so commanding that one saw the we! nered man as Iry commander. Maceo the Man. “His manners, even in the field, were per- fect. Th n him sitting on a soap box at a hastily improvised supper table after a day's fighting, and I do not think Duke of Tetuan or any other could play the host with lish and kindly ity. He was educated—a Jesuit’s boy, I be- with Spanish, literature surprised nce, I have heard him quote Rudyard Kipling’ Barrack Room , He expre a wish on one oc- some ¢ could translate the vernacular. been with Maceo in several en- On one occaston, during an "r at Mayana, near where the tro- 1806 loses itself in the seacoast s of Pinar del Rio, we fell in with ef Spanish. They far outnumbered jd tell by the irregular way ¥ made their Mausers er: were not ve were, in fact boys almost. M came—thi . and bewling over Maceo gave whipped out < ve sent those bout-face and chased them of the trocha. I was in xt (fer it was my first lively fight ad just cut a man down) when I high ce sing out ‘Alta!’ It was th eral, hen I reined in and rode r her - once more fumbling at his machete cord. After the At ““This infernal cord!’ he ute . 1 think it must have made in ok a few prisoners on that occa- s ow the Spa’ ed our pr oners no merey we were r inconsiderate ose poor fel- ward cvening we camped on a ear Candelaria, the owner of merican) was our frien. od dinner and a co of r hisky. Afterward he had brought before him to learn yler’s inovements; read and H » Spaniards were to I they Knew. There ts net much pa in a reeruit prisoner thousands of from his native Andalusta. Antonio lenty of information, and felt in high xood humor. One of the prisoners was a roguish-looking broad-shouldered fellow, who seemed to act as spokesman. Finally the general asked his name, and what.was our surprise when be answered ‘Antonio Maceo" Hie was our leader's namesake, and on his account the whole of that sorry sang was sent back to the trocha under cover of darkness, A Daredevil Exploit. “Maceo was proud of both his names. In & Swoop across the trocha we rode by forced marches to the outskirts of San Antonfo-de-los-Banos, in Habana. It was a most dangerous and difficult trip, but that | the town. was what the general loved. We burned four plantations belonging to Spaniards and the wretched non-combatants; and when we finally halted at a friend's hacienda, there was no lack of good cheer. After supper Antonio said, half jokingly: ‘I have t to ride into the city respects to my patron He mused over this proposition for awhile, and then if I could accompany him. Of I agreed, and with Ramon Pajarito ee others we set out. The camp lay n Lake Aguanabo and San Antonio, and thus north of the line of railroads to Habana. We rode rapidly, reconnoitering weil as we could. No signs of Spanish upation could we see when we.rode into Then 1 remembered that it was Sunday night. The garrison, if there was any, was probably at vespers: and when we halted on the outskirts of the town and put our horses up at a sort of drinking shop, none of the women in the place asked ques- tions or showed suspicion. In fact, the citizens believed Maceo leagues away be- yond the trocha. Surprising the Spaniard. “We walked to the plazza, where stands the Church of San Antonio. The organ was pealing and we knew the people were at benediction. The few loungers outside aid not notice us, and before I could say a word Maceo had scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper from his notebook and nailed it to one of the church door posts with his knife. Then he took off his hat while the benediction was being pro- nounced. I will admit that I did not feel very comfortable, standing there at the church door with the incense smoke in my nostrils and a hornet’s nest of Spaniards ready to be roused at any moment. After the gong had sounded for the last time Maceo turned away, and we slouched after him, carelessly, as it were, across the plaza. Round the corner we quickened our pace, and in fifteen minutes more we were in the saddle and making tracks for Lake Aguanabo. “The notice which Maceo had nailed to the church decor read as follows: “Having crossed the butcher's toy ditch to build up my constitution at the wonder- ful mineral springs of Aguanabo, I cannot resist. paying .my respects to my patron saint and bis handsome church. “ (Signed) ANTONIO MACEO, “Lieutenant General Army of the Cuban Republic.” “That notice spread consternation, and the news of burnt plantations coming close vpon it next day brought a whole brigade of soldiers from Habana. They hunted for us four days along the lake shores, but long before they arrived Maceo had slipped back into Pinar del Rio. “My parting with Maceo occurred when he sent me with dispatches to Gomez. I cannot tell you the method of intercourse further than to say that I traveled in d guise. To enter into detail would naturally be to reveal our plans to the Spaniard Maceo embraced me warmly at parting and gave me a brace of revolvers, one of which I lost at the engagemeni in which I was wounded, and the second of which now lies before you. “I deeply and sincerely mourn the m:lat- to, Maceo. I wish that struggling Cuba had a few white men as good as he.” ges A Hoosier Gretna Green. From the Indianapolis Journal. No city in America has made auite such a good record in the number of knots tied for elopers as our own Jeffersonville, Ind., in the past year. Last month there were eighty-five such marriages. Located on the Obio viver, the town draws from two states and has special attractions for the romantic Kentuckians. The squires and ministers are winning a reputation for the way in which they dispatch the nervous lovelorn who come to their doors. A couple, total strangers in the city, will step from a train or a buggy or bicycle and ask for a certain squire. They have read of him in connec- tion with his accommodations to eloping couples. So well, however, have the mag- istrates @rranged things that no couple can manage to reach the city without having first been spotted by some of the numerous runners, who kindly volunteer to escort them to the office of a magistrate. For this kindness the runner always receives a fee from the officiating justice. The justice having the widest reputation is "Squire Jehn Hause, who occupies a neat office just at the head of the ferry landing, made conspicuous by the inviting sign, “Matrimonial Parlors” and other placards, showing to the public the nature or the business transacted by the justice. During the last month at least fifty of the couples united in the the that binds by this dignitar The emoluments resulting from this ¢ 1 are from $1 to $5, and some- ti 310 each. A handsome income of from $100 to $200 per month is almost al- Ways assured him. Many are the queer requests which ac- company the applications for the marriage ceremonies. Recently one of the couples wanted to be married while on their bi- cycles, and the request was complied with. The scene was strange. The bridal couple seated on wheels supported by friends, with slasped hands, were made one. Another couple were married, by request, standing under the approach of the Big Four bridge, h spans the Ohio at this point. Re- quire Hause married a young lady who was the fifth and last daughter in a family of five girls and four boys, all of the girls having eloped and been married, three of them by ‘Squire Hause. Se Se m: . San Antonio foothard: oc! Chicago's Post Office to Become a c reh. Chicago Chronicle. Chicago people who want to get a look at their old pést office building will have to journey to Milwaukee.. They will find the material that formed that dingy structure, but in an entirely different shape—that of a magnificenthouse of worship. The Polish Roman Catholic Church has bought it. ‘The cost ef the material and tts transpor- tation to Milwaukee will be in the neigh- borhood of $33,000. The excellence of the bargain will be seen when it is known that while the total cost of the church will be $100,000, the expenditure of double that sum would have been necessary had not this material been secured. The new church will be a handsome fire- proof: structure. It will seat 2,300 people. It will be built of stone, brick and terra cotta, nearly all of which will have come from the old Chicago post office. From the Tyr Probable. a From the Boston Transcript. ; 'Mother—“Oh, John, you should-hear baby talk. He can talk just as plain as can be.” ‘nt ‘You mean ds plain as you talk FUEL FROM TREES Mr. Edison Talks About the Money - Value of Arboriculture. WHERE BLACK DIAMONDS ARE BURNED The Coal Equivalent Per Acre in Forest Growth Every Year. POWER OF THE TIDES Written for The Evening Star, N A RECENT talk with the writer about the world’s fuel supply and the feasible ways for making nature do a y good deal more of man’s work than at present, Thomas A. Edison said: “Nature's resources are ample if we will only take advantage Sa —Osoof'stthem. Men say a k that we shall be out of fuel tor i sud power production in a comparatively short time, just because they foresee the possible exhaustion of the coal supply. But there need be no alarm, even in behalf of future generations. It is true that, in time, the available coal will all be gone, providing its burning is con- tinued. But, while that is. being done, na- ture will be making more fuel, if men will only encourage her a little, and, as a busi- ness, this encouragement will be quite as profitable as most occupations. “As long as the sun shines we can get power, We get it all from the sun now, for coal is only sunshine stored in trees grown ages ago and slowly transformed to almost pure carbon. But we don’t have to wait for trees to turn to coal in order to burn them. Trees will grow wherever there is sunshine and soil. Once their growth is started, nature will give man the equivalent of a ton of coal in forest growth every year on every acre of soil in any of the non-arid parts of the earth. And there is enough waste ground--that is, ground that cannot be ‘cropped’ because it is too hilly or too wet or something—to make room for all the fuel growth required. All that is needed is a few years of patience, a careful study of forestry and the laying down and observation of certain rules for the growth, preservation and proper cut- ting of trees, :nd the man who owns a few acres of waste land will be able to make as big a net profit out of his fuel crop as he who raises any other sort of crop. At present prices, indeed, the equivalent of a ton of coal to the acre of waste ground would yield a better profit than almost any other crop known.” Supply for a City. A little investigation is sufficient to show that Mr. Edison's notions as to the world’s fuel supply, above briefly stated, are of stupendous importance. Within twenty- five miles of New York there are probably, in rocky hills and marsh lands, both of which could be made to support heavy growths of fuel timber, but not to raise farm or garden crop, more than 100,000 acres of ground, and this area, according to Mr. Edison, would produce the equiva- lent of 100,000 tons of coal a year. The to~ tal annual coal consumption of New York, however, is 6,000,000 tons, and it would be necessary to go more than twenty-five miles to get the supply needed; but within the territory from which the coal supply of the present is obtained, the amount of fuel that might be produced by tree-growing would be more than enough to supply New York, and all the cities within that terri- tory now using coal, for an inderinite pe- riod This district includes eastern Pennsylva- nia and northern New Jersey, and is joined by tne southeastern part of New York, a vast region that is largely mountainous, abounding in steep hillsides and rocky stretches. Only small portions of this re- gion are good for farming, and the whole was originally covered with heavy and lux- urious forest growth. This forest has been mostly cut away and not renewed, a most wasteful proceeding, to remedy which the various much-talked-of forestry commis- sions are now beginning to labor. The profitableness of forest growing for fuel production wouid vary greatly in dif- ferent localities, but at present prices it would be quite as great as farming; prol- ably greater, when it is remembered that no yearly cultivation would be needed, that the labor of cutting of the trees would be less than harvesting the crop, and that the original value of the land would be much beiow that of farm land. Hundreds of thousands of acres now almost hare of trees and unfit for anything in their pres- ent condition could be bought for $20 an acre, that in ten or fifteen years—at most twenty—would yield a gross ef $5 or $% an acre, or a net of $3 or $4. Beauty of the Landscape. The 100,000 acres waste land compara- tively close to the city of New York, now altogether unproductive, would then yield, at the lowest figures, $400,000 a year. At the same time the raising of trees for fuel would add immensely to the beauty of the landscape. Uninteresting semi-marshes and bare and scarred hillsides would be clothed with living green in the summer, and with the gorgeous colors of dying leaves in the autumn, while even in the winter the flats and hills would be more beautiful because of their forestization than as they are now. Still further, the systematic and continuous cutting of the timber as fast as it reached the proper size. would give employment to large num- bers of men, and the forests would afford shelter to all sorts of game, so that sport might again flourish. And what is true of the vicinity of New York is true almost acrerally, nearly every big city in the country having territory comparatively near by, where wood, as a substitute for coal, could be produced at a good profit. Mr. Edison believes that all this will, ultimately, be brought to pass, and he de- lights te dwell upon the economic and es- thetic poseibilities of the scheme. But there are some other schemes for the utilization of nature's forces in which Mr. Edison fails to see such practical possibili- ties as are sometimes foretold. One of these {is the utilization of the rise and fall of the tides. Away back in the remote past, men living on the seacoast built tide-mills and gathered power for the grinding of flour and mea! and for other purposes, from the passage through these mills of the ebb- ing and flowing tides. One by one, however, these mills have been abandoned, until now only a few are in practical operation. Mr. Edison says that this is because the werld has got beyond them. “What is needed most in the production of power,” he said, “is steadiness. Tiue mills work intermittently, and, no matter how built, the intermittent feature of their work cannot be done away with. For a certain time the tide is rising every day; then there is a time of slack water; then there is a time of falling tide; then the tide rises again, and so on. This fact alone prevents the production of steady power, and, as tides vary with the seasons and with the wind, the amoun: of available Power fvom them mnst ulso vary. Machinery Expensive. “The cumbrousness and the extremely ex- pensive nature of the machinery. necessary to the production of great power !s another obstacle. I have seen it stated that the tides in New York's harbor alone eould be made to do all of New York's work, but I fail to seé how. There is, of course, a rise and fall there of a tremendous body of water for a few feet. Kut to utilize that water movement, machinery of vaster ex- tent and greater cost than as ever been set up in one place would be necessary, and, when it had been finishad and set up, the resulting powe=, in my judgment, would not pay a fair profit on the investment and the current expenses of keeping tt in’ re- pair, to say nothing of the interruptions to shipping. It is a perfectiy obvious. rule- in hy- draulics that a ton of water falling 100 feet will furnish as much power as 100 tons of water falling one fvor. Futting it another way, a stream of water one foot deep and one foot wide, falling 100 feet, will dev, @s much power ss a stream of water 1¢0 feet wide and one foot deep fa one foot. Now, at Niagara, there is a steady and ae of a stream of water resily large, but much srhaller than the North river in’New York. Conditions are favor- able for the economical harnessing of Ni- agara, and at many other places power can be produced profitably from falling water. Lae “At New York there is a rise and fall of @ much faster volime of water, but the movement of this water is so intermittent and its volume so vast that it would require uncalculated milli of cash to bring it under control, ant the power developed would be only a fraction of the power ob- tained at Niagara fn proportion to the vol- ume of water and the expense of the ma- chinery, for the ini ittent rise and fall at New York is only four or five feet, while at Niagara the steady and ceaseless fall is 180 feet and over. “The extensive use of wind power, save for pumping purposes,” Mr. Edison con- tinued, “is hedged about by somewhat sim- ilar obstacles, and certainly will not come until all other moré economical and con- venient ways of making nature serve man have been exhausted. But that we shall make nature do more and more for us year by_year, until a more wondrous revolution in“power production than anything yet ac- complished has been wrought, there is no manner of doubt.” — HELD UP BY A PICKEREL. An Amazing Experience With a Mon- ster of the Allegheny Deep: From the New York Sun. It was the very first time I ever saw Uncle Billy Ray, landlord of the Barley Run tavern, and before I was out of the wagon he took his pipe out of his mouth and said: “Jim Morse has found his watch.” I had not been aware that Mr. Morse had Jost his waich, but I was glad to hear that he had found it. I sat down on the tavern bench. “Them Aliegheny picker’l is terrible sav- age,” said Uncle Billy. ‘An’ big, too, an’ allus hungry. Biggest an’ hungriest Picker] that ever grow’d. But I never *spectel ‘em of bein’ robbers. They be, though. They stole Jim Morse’s watch. Leastways, one of ‘em did. Held him up as reg’lar as could be, too, an’ took it right offen him, chain an’ all! But Jim's found it. I never ‘spected he would. I spect you're goin’ to try the Allegheny picker’l? “That's what I came over here for,” I re- plied. “Well, said Uncle Billy, shaking his head, “you want to look out. They’m actin’ bad jist now. Ye better leave your watch to home, if you've got one. ’Tain’t likely you'd be as lucky about gittin’ it back ag'in as Jim Morse was. When Jim come in here an’ told me his watch had been stole I felt terrible sorry for him, ‘cause he'd ben savin’ up for a considerable time to git it, an’ twa’n’t likely that he'd ever git another. But when he told me who had stole it I jist b'iled over, fer ’twas only the week afore that the only pig that Jim had was stole by a b’ar, an’ a hawk stole nine of his chickens, an’ now when it come to picker'] raisin’ up an’ stealin’ his watch, it was more’n I could stand. “Ding it!’ says I. ‘It ain't safe to be in this bailiwick no more!’ says I. “* ‘Course it ain't,’ says Jim, an’ he looked so durn down that I give him two good a an’ half a pint to take home with im. “Jim wan'n’t out after picker’l, nuther. He was bass fishin’. Right down yonder by Eagle Rock is where it happened. Jim was standin’ jist above his knees in the water, playin’ a bass he had hooked, when plink! came sumpin’ agin his stomach that Knocked the wind,out of him an’ doubled him up most like a jackknife. Now, s’pose you'd ben winded and doubled up by a plunk in your stgmagh like that, an’ when you looked down an’ see that it was a tre- mendous big picker’l that done it, an’ the picker’! had grabbed -your watch chain, an’ was. tuggin’ an’. yankin’ at it like mad, wouldn't you by s‘prised? Funny if you wouldn’t! An’ 9 course, Jim was s'prised when he see that setch was just what was happenin’ to him, an’ ‘fore he got all his wind back and could straighten up_ the picker’! had snipped the watch out o’ Jim’s pocket, yanked -the.chain loose, an’ was divin’ back inter the water with his plun- der. An’ Jim said ‘the Picker'l was mean enough to stop when it was half under water an’ wiggle its tail at him the aggra- vatin’est kind! urned if it don’t make me bile to think of it! “But, yisterday Jim come in here jist yoopin’ an’ yellin’. I thought for sure that the losin’ of hiswatth had druv him craz; ‘ ‘Billy,’ says he,.‘Hve found my watc! “ ‘Jim,’ says I, thinkin’ yit that he was crazy, ‘don’t let it work on ye like that. Why. ding it! I'll buy ye another watch myself!" says I. “““Buy me another un? says Jim. ‘What do I want with another un when I’ve got my own watch back?’ says he, an’ he pulled out the watch and chain the pick- er'l stole. “Jem,” says I, ‘miracles?’ ““Purty nigh to it!’ says he, an’ told me all about it. “Jim's cousin, Bob Boyden, lives three miles below Eagle Rock. It was two weeks ago today that Jim was robbed by the owdacious picker’]. Bob Boyden’s the un- commonest best picker’l ketcher on the river, ‘cause he hain’t afeered of ‘em. When a feller hooks one o’ these Allegheny picker’! an’ hauls it in an’ gits a sight of it a-comin’, if he don’t cut his line an’ let the picker'l go, that’s a fellow that ain't ufeerd to tackle his weight in wildcats. Bob Boyden’s jist one o’ them kind o° chaps, an’ he'll go right out all alone and tackle them picker’l any time. Well, sir, day afore yisterday Bob thought he’d go out an’ hev some fun with picker'l, an’ he went. An’ I want to tell you, it's a good thing for Jem Morse that he did. Bob hadn’t trolled long afore he got a strike that was a strike. ““Belshazzar’s ghost!’ says Bob. ‘There hain’t no precedent for setch as that!’ says he. There's fish on the end o’ this line, this trip!’ says he. “An’ there was, you bet! ‘Tain’t worth while for me to tell you how Bob had to fight an’ tussie an’ sweat an’ swear ‘fore he got his picker’! ashore, but he landed ‘em. There was two of ‘em. But only one of ‘em had Bob's hook in its jaw. T’other one had come along, jist the same, ‘cause it was fast to the hooked picker’l by a watch chain. Bob said this was the most s'prisin’ thing he ever see. One end o’ the chain was fast in one picker'l's jaw, wedged there tighter’n wax, an’ t’other end was somt’rs in t'other picker'l's innards. Bob felt as if he ought to ‘vestigate. He ripped t’other picker’l open, an’ what do ye think? He found a watch fast in its gullet! “Bob began to dance for joy over’ this here prize he had-took, but purty soon he stopped an’ turned pale. He reco’nized the watch an’ chain as Jim Morse’s. Now, he hadn’t heerd o° Jim havin’ his watch stole, So there wa'n't only one thing fer him to think had happened. “This picker'l has waylaid Jim an’ gob- bled him,’ says Bob, ‘an’ all that’s left is this here watch an’ chain,’ says he. “Bob didn’t lose no time, I can tell ye, gettin’ up to Eagle Rock to carry the orful news to Jim's folks. Well—but, o’ course, you know what the upshot must a ben an’ the lively time there was to Jim’s. The one picker'l had tried to steal the watch from the first picker'l, an’ that’s the way they both got in @ scrape. But it was edgin’ purty close on to miracles, the way Jim found his watel, wasn’t it?” —+-—. - Sorrey tor Bicyelers, From the St. Janigs Budget. Can the terrible néws be true? I have no wish to unduly;hartow the’ feelings of bi- cyclists, but it 4# no longer possible to con- ceal the fact tijat something like an India rubber famine $s apprehended in quarters which should @) {well informed upon the subject. Para, #vhith is the chief source of supply, is er best, and consign- ments reachir; tal of 20,000 tons an- nually now re: Meee Brazil. But even Atftcan shipments in the ly suffice to meet the by the fine, healthy rage a! ire now animating all ‘Trees are being as- in West Africa, and ts. have been introduced f.collecting the. precious \y expéct in the near. various improv there in’ the mode. sap, so that one future to receive much larger .con: ments: frém that. part of the world, Still the sit- uation 1s one which cannot fail to the spirits of the boldest bicyclist. 1) tei lg mcs finty-hea rted, graspin’ divil! He's jist bin here tryin’ t’ squaze out foive dollars Oi owe him,” * * ‘McFadden—“Th’ bas! folve?” ‘Casey—"“Ol did that. An’ it was hard work Ol hod gittin’ them, too. It was th’ Brady owed me,.an’ Oj hod to th’ loife outem him to An’ yez hod th’ THE PINK SHEEP From St. Paul's. 7 ‘To judge from the laughter which came from that end of the luncheon ,table, the party .sitting there were enjoying them- Selves. Some of the other people in the room wished they could have heard the mirth-provoking remarks; and yet there Ws No great display of wit. Mr. and Mrs. Kibble White were in high spirits, for it was the second day of their holiday, and they were prepared to laugh at anything. Mrs. Yates, with “madame,” had arrived in Boulogne only on the previous day, but she had a knack of making personal re- marks about the other visitors at the hotel that had quickly established a sort of in- timacy between her and her neighbors at table. They were discussing a man of five-and- thirty who sat rather near. them. “I think he’s English,” said Mr, Kibble White. “Impossible!” remarked madame. “He is too solid, too unintelligent, to belong to your great nation; he is a German. “No, he can’t understand English,” said Mrs. Yates, “for I am sure he must have heard our conversation, and his face has never changed. “I hope he doesn’t understand it, for you have been rather rough on him; let us lis- ten to his accent when he speaks to the waiter,” suggested Mr. Kibble White. “No need,” cried Mrs. Yates; “I am sure he can only say Ba’a Ba’a; don’t you see he ‘is not a man, but just a great pink sheep.” The party all laughed, and the stranger was nicknamed the Pink Sheep from that 1oment. At the table d’hote that evening the lavghter was almost entirely subdued: Mrs. Yates and madame soon adjourned to the drawing room, whence they were followed by the Kibble Whites and by the Pink Sheep, who ensconced himself behind a book. ‘You have no doubt noticed that Mrs. Yates is somewhat depressed,” said ma- dame; “and I am not surprised at that, for she has had her pocket picked and lost more than £25,” The Kibble Whites expressed their deep sympathy, and after describing the manner in which the loss had occurrred, while she stood watching the arrival of the English boat, Mrs. Yates grew communicative and told of her great disappointment. It was impossible to continue her journey. She was on her way to Erindisi to meet her husband, who was coming home from India seriously ill. Her anxiety to meet him was the g-eeater, for she had parted from him in anger caused by jealousy. She had just learned her suspicion had been entirely un- founded. And now she could go no further, for, acting on madame’s advice, she had taken a ticket only as far as Paris, and, being very badly off, she could not afford to bor- row the necessary money, even had there been time to do so. “Why didn’t you let her take a through ticket, madame?” asked Mrs. Kibble Whiie. “Indeed, I wish I had, for now she could have gone on, but I feared the people :n London would cheat her, and since I know the manager of a tourist agency in Paris I felt she was sure to be properly treated if she took her tickets from him.” “You are over suspicious, madame,” said Mrs. Yates. “Last night, when we went to the Casino, you wanted me to give you my watch and jewelry to take care of, and yet, you see, no one attempted to take them.” “And you are, perhaps, too confiding, Mrs. Yates. You see, if you had given me your money keep for you you would not have lost it.” “I am not so sure of that,” said Mrs. Kibble White, looking hard at the last speaker. “What do you mean by that remark?” asked madame, indignantly. “I mean that I do not see why the money should have been safer in your keeping than in Mrs. Yates’.” There was an_ uncomfortable silence. Madame rose and went out. As soon as ie had left the room Mrs. Kibble White asked: “Do you know her very like her eyes at all. her. Who is she?” “Oh, I think she is all right. She is the Marquise de Montereau. “Then why has she put her name in the visitors’ book as Madame Camboux?” “She said she liked to travel incognito, because if people knew her rank they would charge more at the hotels. “She does not look like an aristocrat; her dress is so untidy, and have you not noticed the high-water mark on her neck? “Oh, these foreigners have such odd characters.” “I should say, by the look of her, she kad none,” said Mrs. Kibble White. Then Mrs. Yates explained how she had answered an advertisement in the Morn- ing Post, in which a foreign lady of rank asked another lady to join her in a journey to Naples. She told how madame had promised to give references to two or three well-known members of the English aris- tocracy, but they were all out of town. “I think you were lucky not to have given her your jewelry last night or prob- ably you would have lost that, as well as your money,” remarked Mrs. Kibble White. Then began a discussion as to what could be done to discover whether their suspi- cions were well founded, but it se2med im- possible to take any steps without some- thing more definite to go upon. Meanwhile, the Pink Sheep, who had finished his chap- ter, took a cigar from his pocket and was cutting off the end. “I believe that -beastly German Sheep is going to smoke in the drawing room! Tell him we won't stand it, dear,” cried Mrs. Kibble White. “Defense de fumer,” said her husband, excitedly, pointing to a notice on the wall. The Pink Sheep smiled, bowed and left the room. Crossing the passage, he walk- ed upstairs. His footfall was silent upon the thick carpet, and, on reaching the first landing, he saw a female figure turn out the electric light. He paused a moment; then, walking cautiously, he went to his room. In the doorway he met a woman, and seizing her by the wrist, forced her back, locking the door after him. When he had struck a light, he recognized madame. ‘I beg your pardon,” she said in French. “It is so dark in the passages I have mis- taken my room; I must complain that they are so economical of the light.” “If you dislike the darkness, why did you turn out the electric light?” “I turn it out What an idea! dreaming.” 3 “And yet my eyes are very wide open: but I am glad you have come! 1 want a few moments’ conversation with you. ‘With me! i well? I don't I should not trust You are You evidently mistake. am the Marquise de Montereau, and I do not know you.” “That is possible, but I know you, and what I want to tell you is that you must return to Mrs. Yates the twenty-five ppose the purse is not now “How dare you accuse me of such an action? You must be a madman; for surely no sane man could be guilty of such inso- lence.” She rose to go, but, with a gesture, he stopped her. “Call the hotel keeper,” he said quietly, “and if you are aggrieved, make a formal complaint against me. In the meantime, you may know that you will not leave this room until you have restored the money.” She sat down scowling at him, and threatening condign punishment for this indignity. “Don’t be impatient, and I will tell you shortly an experience which happened to me,” he said, establishing himself com- fortably in an armchair. “You don’t obs ject to smoke, I think? Very well. Two years ago (lighting his cigar), I was in a small hotel in Lucerne.” He looked up suddenly at her, and the corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily. “There were two maiden ladies - there,” he continyed;<“‘named Jackson, or Johnson, traveling with a companion, a“ Madame Cambrai, who had answered an adyertise- ment and accompanied them in the ca- pacity of a sort of female courier. two days later, when I happened to make their acquaintance in a railway carriage. Their narrative interested me much, for it enabled me to explain the circumstance, which had seemed strange. “Now, I am going to make a confession. I did a mean thing in that Lucerne Hotel. I happer.ed to wake in the night; noticing ar: odd sound and, seeing the keyhole of tne adjoining room shining like a bright spot in the darkness, I crept softly out of bed and looked through. There I saw a woman in rather scanty clothing. Did I turn away? On the contrary, I kept my eye at the keyhole. It was indefensible, I admit, but curiosity got the better of me, and I Saw a very strange thing. On the table lay an oren case of surgical instruments, and this woman was cutting part of a moro2co purse into strips, then burning them one by one in the flame of the candle. It was @ tedious process, and I now got tired of it and crept back ‘to bed.” “All that this story proves is that you are a mean-spirited, saameless fellow,and I know not why you weary me with ! madame, trying to look dignified. “But now comes the entertaining part.” resumed the Pink Sheep, “for I recognized tkis woman as Madame Cambrai, the com: panion of the Misses Johnson (I think was Johnson), and you can fancy that I am, if not actually pleased, still much in- terested to find her at Boulogne, passing under the somewhat similar name of Cam- boux, in the company of Mrs. Yates, a lady who has mysteriously lost a purse containing a considerable sum; nor is my interest lessened when I see her turning out the electric light and paying a visit to my private room.” “You have told your story, and I now unGerstand tow through being deceived by some fancied resemblance to a woman you have once seen through a keyhole and meeting -me just as I have made a mis- take in my room, your suspicions have been, not unnaturally, aroused. Still, if you are the chivairous gentleman your ap- Pearance proclaims you to be, you will ac- cept the word of a lady when I assure you that I have never been to Switzerland and that I have never used the name of Cam- brai, and you will permit me to pass cut.” “That is not my intention. You are in error when you say I saw the woman only once thrcugh a keyhole, for the lady with the surgical scissors sat opposite to m: both the day before and the morning after passing her night in the unusual operation I have described. Nor have I the least intention of letting you leave this room until you restore to Mrs. Yeates the money you have stolen from her.” At these words madame completely changed her tone, and replied tn a low voice: “Certainly the name of sheep, which your protege, Mrs. Yates, so aptly bestowed upon you (for you must have heard her if you understand English) is most applica- ble. You must be a silly sheep indeed if you think that, granting I had stolen the purse, I should be afraid of risking my liberty (to say nothing of the money), when you have no evidence whatever ic connect me with the theft.” “As to your risking your liberty, you can be easy upon that score. I am not your judge, nor do I take upon myself the task of bringing the dishonest to punishment, but here is a countrywoman of my own in great distress through your act. She is a fcolish woman, no doubt, and her remarks about me were not complimentary, but that Is no reason why I should not help her out of the difficulty into which you have brought her.” “Ah!” said madame, raising her eyebrows, “how stupid I am not to see your hope to get your share of the money, but then with that face how could I read your true char- acter? Let me tell you, however, you, too, are a poor physiognomist if you think I will give you anything.” “We shall see: I do not care to waste fur- ther time in explanation, and I give you two minutes to hand over the money.” So saying, he pulled out his watch. “And I tell you at once you can call up the hotel keeper and do your worst, and you will then learn that it may be a danger- ous business to make a charge without a tiltle of evidence to support it.” The Pink Sheep looked at her steadily for a moment. “I think you are not French in spite of your good accent. I may be wreng, but I should take you for an Italian; still, I assume you know something of the French law. In another minute I shall ring the bell and tell the servant to ask a gentleman from the bureau of police (who must be here by this time, for I sent for him immediately after dinner) to come up- stairs. I will say to him, ‘Here is a lady whom I have found in my room. All I krow of her is that in Switzerland she passed under the name of Cambrai: in Lon- don she calls herself the Marquise de Montereau, and at this hotel inscribes her- self as Mme. Camboux.’ You probably know that you will be arrested and de- tained until inquiries can be made. Your luggage will be searched, and no doubt your interesting case of instruments will be found.”” “Madame had turned very pale. She lifted the skirt of her dress, and, finding a con- cealed pocket, she drew forth a handful of gold, which she handed to her antagonist. He tvok the money and counted it slow! “There are only thirteen sovereigns here, he said, “and I want twelve more.” “But how do I know that you will not de- nounce me when you have them?” “For that I give vou the word of a Pink Sheep, an animal that is not given to lying. Nay, more. I promise that I will not re- turn the money to Mrs. Yates before 9 o'clock tomorrow morning; so that you may be miles away from Boulogne before she knows that the suspicions she already entertcins are well founded. In case she should be vindictive and anxious to have you punished, there is time for a woman of your resources to disappear.” Reluctantly madame produced the re- remaining sovereigns. As she passed to the door, which was now opened for her, she <ail, “I don’t suppose you are going to be fool enough to give the money to that empty-headed Mrs. Yates; but, in any case, 1 rely on your promise not to do so before 9 o'clock tomorrow. ‘Tue Pink Sheep made no answer. That right madame contrived to pick a quarrel with Mrs. Yates. She left the hotel, saying that she would not pass another hour under the same roof with her, and de- claring that she would take the night boat to London. The next mornirg, when Mrs. Yates was at breakfast with the Kibble Whites, a small, heavy packet was brought to her by one of the chambermaids. She opened it, and found a rouleau of twenty-five sover- eigns, with the following note: “Madame: You were right. Your travel- ing companion is a swindler. Before she left I forced her to return your money, which I now irclose. If it is any consola- tion to you, you may rest assured that she will perpetrate fresh thefts, and so inev- itably fall into the hands of the police. In sencing you your money, I take the liberty of offering you a little advice, which you will accept or not, as you think fit: “1. Below you will find particulars as to your route to Brindisi, with times of trains, information where to get your meals, etc. I advise you to start this day. If you follow these directions you will not need to rely upon chance companions. “2. Never believe an advertisement with- out corroborative evidence. “3. Judge less hastil Had you done so, you and your husband might have been saved many an unhappy hour. “4. Take for granted when traveling that every one understands all modern lan- guages, and if you wish to make personal remarks, do so in a lower tone. Some peo- ple might resent such things more than “Yours, faithfully, “THE PINK SHEEP.” ED cerrastnas A STOUT LITTLE FIGHTER. Disposition Often Into Trouble. From the Philadelphia Telegraph. The re@bird, when it has gotten down hard to home-making, develops a remark- able tendency to fight. At all other times of the year he is as docile and gentle as any in the woods—indeed, rather inclined to take a great deal from other birds; but as soon as the nest is completed and Mrs. Red- bird is installed queen thereof he gets on his war paint and will fight anything that the bravery of the redbird in defending (he home that the hunter is enabled to snare it. The trap used is a wire cage. Within this cage is a tame bird, one which has been in captivity for a year or two, and sings freely. The hunter wanders into the woods and slowly makes his way through the swamps until he reaches a dense por- ticn, when he halts. Pretty soon the bird in the cage, delighted, , doubtless, at being again in its native woods, even if bars stand between it and libert begins singing With all its might. If there is a redbird within the sound of the caller's voice it hastens to investigate. One of the peculiar habits of the redbird, hunters say, is that there seems, by common consent, to be a division of the woods among them, each bird having appropriated to his especial jurisdiction a certain allotment of woods. Sometimes other birds, either by mistake or for the purpose of acquiring more terri- tory, invade the domain of another, where- upon there is a fierce fight. which is called off only when one or the other of the birds conquers, in which case the victor become the possessor of the territory of the two, together with the defeated bird’s mate,who, it seems, is no longer willing to share for- tunes with her former lord after he has proven himself a poor fighter. The hunter has on one side of his cage a light net, bouad about by a light frame. and to the center of a light iron rod, stretched perpendicularly across this frame is attach- ed in swinging position a short, rounded stick, about six inches in lengih. ‘This gate of netiing is opened and kept in that posi- tion by the wooden trigger, which is braced against another similar trigger attached to the sides of the cage wherein is the call bird. This connection of the two triggers is very delicate, and the slightest touch will suffice to throw it, whereupon the nettlag frame door is quickly closed by a spring against the siies of the cage. This is what holds the redbird captive. As soon as the hunter has set the trigger of his cage he hangs it to a limb somewh re or places it on the ground and goes away some distance to await resnits. ‘The impris- oned redbird socn begins to sing, and pres- catly, if there is a redbird anywhere within hearing distance, there ts a flutter of wings, a series of sharp cries, and before the hunt. er can say at!” the wild redbird flies headlong at his supposed enemy in the cege, throws the trigger and is captured. It takes very little longer to capture a red- hird at this time of the year than It does +o catch a fish. If once the caged bird is placed in the right spot within the territory of the other redbirds and he hears its s: ing, the rest is very easy. for, regardl all personal safety and everything else. rushes madly to the fight. 2o- “HORROR” PARTIES, Feminine For From Harper's Bazar. Who would ever suppose that pleasure could be derived from horro>? The girls are forever racking their brains for some new form of amusement. Lately they hit upon an original idea, which, when carrie a out, gave all who were present an immense amount of pleasure. ‘The entertainment was called a “Horror party,” and the plan was for each girl and young man to bring rors” were not unwrapped or disclosed to public view until after the meal was The guests were then told to draw partners. Taey retired from the room for a moment, to return with weatly done-up packages, tied with gay bons in tissue Paper, of bright colors. ‘The girls then exchanged them wiih their partners, and, amid roars of laughter, upwrapped the “horrors.” It would be almost impossible to describe all of them, but one can form an idea from the few following what mer- riment was created by the insight into each young person's “pet aversio One ycung man bronght a basket with a large black cat in it, which. when let loose, began to prance around the room at a lively gait. Another object was a bottle of some nasty cheap perfume, which cne young girl insisted was her pet horror! Stil ancther brought an old dilapidated oil painting of some very cross-looking a cestor, which she said had haunted her ever since she was a child, and bad in that way become her “perfect horror,” as it always hung over her bed in the nursery. Then there were hideous yellow plaid cra- vats, a cabbage, a bottle of musk, which, mingling its perfume with the cabbage, made a most charming and csthetic com- bination. One girl brought a pair of white satin slippers which had always been too light for her, and what greater horror can there be than tight dancing shoes? A toy frog with rubber tube attached, which made it hop in the most natural way, was among the list; also a paper rat, a Japan- ese toy snake, and last, but not least, an oyster. it seems that some one has a horror of oyst=rs! After the fun of examining into one an- other’s pet horror was over, an impromptu cotillon was arranged, and the “horrors” used as favors. Fo inality and bi- larity the evening certainly bore the palm. Dancing was kept up until quite late, and the girls and their partners left their “horrors” behind. +o- Millais Explained It Gently. From the Boston Transcript. Here is a little story of the late president of the Royal Academy, which he himself was fond of telling occasionally, and which is too good to be lost. I give it in Millais’ own words: I found myself seated one evening at a rather grand dinner next to a very pretty gushing girl to whom I had not been intro- duced. She fired into conversation directly she had finished her soup, and as it was May, began with the inevitable question, “I “wppose you've been to the academy?” I-re- plied that I had. “And did you notice the Millais? Didn't you think they were awful daubs? I can’t imagine how such things ever got hung!’ She was going on gayly in the same strain, while I sat silent, when stddenly the amused smiles of those round her and the significant hush brought her to asudden stop. She colored rather painfully and whispered to me in a frightened voice, “For heaven's sake, what have I done? Have I said anything dreadful? Do teil me.” “Not no I replied; “eat your din ner in peace, and I'll tell you by She did so, rather miserably, vainly trying to extract from me at intervals what the matter was, and when dessert came I filled her glass with champagne and told her to gvlp it down very quickly when I counted three. She obeyed without protest, and I tcok the opportunity when she couldn't speak to say, “Well, I am Millais. But let's be friends!”