Evening Star Newspaper, May 28, 1898, Page 20

(Copyright, 1898, PN OMODNONOWON seks) sekse se sek se. ND selse) PART IL. 2 , that night, after her father had gone to bed, Salomy Jane sat by the open window of the sitting room in an ap- parent attitude of languid contemplation, but alert and intent of eye and ear. It was a fine moonlit night. Two pines near the door—solitary pickets of the serried ranks of distant forest—cast long shadows like paths to the cottage, and sighed their spiced breath in the windows. For there was no frivolity of vine or flower round Salomy Jane's bower. The clearing was too recent, the life too practical for vani- ties like these. But the moon added a ue elusiveness to everything, softened the rigid outlines of the sheds, gave shad- ows to the lidless windows, and touched with merciful indirectnesa the hideous de- bris of refuse gravel and the gaunt scars of burnt vegetation before the door. Even Salomy Jane was affected by it and ex haled something between a sigh and yawn with breath of the pines. he suddenly sat upright Her quick ear had caught a faint “click, click” in irection of the wood; her quicker in: @ rustic training enabled her to that it was the ring of a a ‘Then hors oe on flinty ground; her knowl- the locality told her it came from t where the trail passed over an out- flint 5 arter of a mile m where she sat—and within the clear- It was no errant “stock,” for the shoe h iron; it was a mounted tres- passer by night, and boded no good to a man like Clay She arese, threw her shawl over her head more for disguise than shelter, and passed out of the door. A sudden impulse made her seize her father’s shotgun from the corner whe stood—not that she feared any danger to herself, but that it was an excuse. She made directly for the wood, keeping in the shadow of the pines as long gs she could. At the fringe she halted; whoever was there must pass her before reaching the house. Then there seemed to be a suspense of all nature. Everything was deadly still—even the moonbeams appeared no longer tremu- lous; then there was a rustle as of some stealthy animal among the ferns—and then & dismounted man stepped into the moon- light. It was the horse thief—the man she had kissed! For a wild moment a strange fancy selzed her usually sane intellect and stirred her ate blood. The news they had told her was not true—he had been hung, agd this was his ghost! He looked as white and spiritlike in the moonlight, dressed in the same clothes, as when she saw him last. He had evidently seen her approach- ing, and moved quickly to meet her. But in his haste he stumbled slightly—she re- flected suddenly that ghosts did not stum- bie—and a feeling of relief came over her. And it was no assassin of her father that had been prowling around—only this un- happy fugitive. A momentary color came Into her cheek; her coolness and hardihood returned; {t was with a tinge of sauciness In her voice that she sald: “I reckoned you were a ghost.” “I mout have been,” he said, looking at her fixedly; “but I reckon I'd’ have come back here, all the same.” “It! little riskier comin’ back alive,” she said, with a levity that died on her lips, for a singular nervousness, half fear ind half expectation, was beginning to take the place of her relief of a moment ago. “Then it was you who was prowlin’ round makin’ tracks in the far pasture?” ves; I came straight here when I got xway She felt hts eyes were burning her, bu 31d not dare to raise her own. “Why—" the began—hesitated, and ended vaguely: dow did you get here?” “You helped me.” “Yes. That kiss you gave me put life into me—gave me strength to get away. I Ewore to myself I'd come back and thank you—alive or dead Every word hi aid she could have an- ticipated, so plain the situation seemed to her new. And every word he satd she knew was the truth. Yet her cool common sense struggled against t. Vhat’s the use of your escaping, ef comin’ back here to be ketched a 1id, pertly. He ar little nearer to her. but seemed to her the more awkward e resumed ession. His by exhaustiot ath at intervals: You did more for me than made another man 0” me. woman or child do to | you did. I never had a friend— Red Pet ed me up | ’ I want to quit this yer—| I'm doin’. I want to begin by doin’ the square thing to you,” he stopped, breathed hard and then said, brokenly: “My hoss is over thar, staked out. I want to give him to you. Judge Boompointer ive you a thousand dollars for him. n't lyin’—it's God’s truth! 1 saw ft on handbill again a tree. Take him, and get away afoot. Take him. It's the thing I can do for you, and I know it alf pay for what you did. Take it— ther can get a reward for you—if ae were the ethics of this strange lo- ity that neither the man who made the the girl to whom {t was made struck by anything that seemed il- 1 or indelicate or at all inconsistent justice or the horse thief's real con- omy Jane, nevertheles: om another and weaker reason. want your hoss—though I reckon ht—but you're just starvin’. I'll get She turned toward the hous what pal like what you'll take the hogs first,” he said, her hand. At the touch she felt ¢ coloring and struggled, expecting, per ther kiss. But he dropped her har turned again with a s tur s “Hol o I'll come ri ar i away—the mere shadow of a coy und flying nymph in the moonlight— ned the he veured food and hat and ers to her burde for him > th h she thought everyb did. Then shi But he put « disgutse turned the hoss m there in know but that r hosses. catche he said, in a “rn r to get awa trembling’ eart In me again— to move away. her « Suddenly he caught tr ng Kiss, which eh Then they 5 mbraced two | a © same. ¥ t ad been trans- t « passionate cling something of | H within her a Wer's quick w ‘ « he » low rm in the come mo- with teeth, | she ft ¢yes and And t © distance she something s seemed to be pu d and glanced to where ing. Had sh him returne had gave her first sigh, and ly again. It must be nearly It was not very long to morn- then ran ¢ 10 o'clock! LULL ULLAL ELLIS URIS ULILIS SALOMY JANES KISS, ———-—_—_ WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY BRET HARTE. WOV LES QING, NOW by Bret Harte.) appeared to suddenly awake with a sharp “erack!” She stopped paralyzed. Another “crack!” followed that echoed over to the far corral. She recalled herself instantly and dashed off wildly to the woods again. As she ran sho thought of one thing only. He had been “dogged” by one of his old pursuers and attacked. But there were two shots and he was unarmed. Suddenly she remembered that she had left her fath- er’s gun standing against the tree where they were talking. Thank God! she may again have saved him. She ran to the tree; the gun was gone. She ran thither and thither, dreading at every step to fall upon his nfeless boagy. A new thought struck THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1898-24 PAGES. again, She crept softly down the stairs, listen- ing to the long drawn breathing of her father in his bed room, and then, by the light of a guttering candle, scrawled a note to him, pegging him not to trust himself out of the house until she returned froth her search, and; leaving the note open of the table, swiftly ren out into the growing day. Three hours afterward Mr. Medison Clay awoke to the sound of loud knocking. At first this forced itself upon his conscious- ness as his daughter's regular morning summons, and was responded to by a grunt of recognition and a nestling closer in the blankets. Then he awoke with a start and a muttered oath, remembering the events of last night, and his intention to get up early—and rolled out of bed. Be- ccming aware by this time that the knock- ing was at the outer door, and hearing the shout of a familiar voice, he hastily pulled on his boots, Fis jean trousers, and, fastening a single suspender over his shoul- der as he clattered down stairs, stood in the lower room. The dcor was open, and waiting upon the threshold was his kins- man—an old ally in many a blood feud— Breckenridge Clay! “You are a cool one, Mad,” said the lat- ter in half-admiring indignation. “What's up?” said the bewildered Madi- scn. “You ought to be, and scootin’ out o° this,” said Breckenridge grimly. “It’s ali very well to ‘known nothin’,” but here's Phil Larrahee’s friends hev just picked him up, drilled through with slugs and deader nor a crow, and now they're lettin’ loose MADISON CLAY'S FLIGHT. her; she ran to the corral. The horse was not there! He must have been able to re- gain it and escaped—after the shots had been fired) She drew a long breath of re- lief, but {t was caught up in an apprehen- sion of alarm. Her father, awakened from his sleep by the shots, was hurriedly ap- proaching her. “What's up now, Salomy Jane?” he de- manded, excitedly. “Nothin’,” said the girl with an effort. thin’, at least, that I can find.”” She was usually truthful because fearless, and a le stuck in her throat—but she was longer fearless, thinking of him. “I vw abed, so I ran out as soon as I heard the shots fired,” she answered in return to his curious gaze. “And you've hid my gun somewhere where it can’t be found,” he said reproach- fully. “Ef it was that sneak Larabee, and he fired them shots to lure me out, he might have potted me, without a show, a dozen times in the last flve minute: She hadn't thought since of her father’s enemy! It might indeed have been he who had attacked Jack. But she made a quick point of the suggestion. “Run in, dad, run in and find the gun "ve got no show out here without it." She seized him by the shoulders from behind, shielding him from the woods, and hurried him, half ex- postulating, half struggling, to the house. But there no gun was to be found. It Was strange—it must have been mislaid in some corner! Was he sure he had not left it in the barn? But no matter now. The danger was over—the Larrabee trick had failed—he must go to bed now, and in the ery Madison Appears to Salomy. morning they would make a search togeth- er. At the same time she had inwardly r to rise before him and make anothe search of the wood, and fearful she alled “her find him and well awaiting he omy Jane slept litle that night—nor did her father. But toward morning he fell into a tired mda slumber until the sun was well up in the hori Far different was it with his daughter; she lay with her face to the i atch every un-warpe » far off me trees. thless, 1 window, her head haif lifted to vund—from the creaking of shingles above her head to an of the rising wind in the Sometimes fell into a Ir eestatic trance—lving over stolen interview—feel- ing the fugitive’s arm still around her, his kisses on her lips, hearing his whispei yoice in her ears—the birth of her new lif was followed again by @ period of nizing dread—that he might even then lying, ebbing his fe away, in the woods with her name on his lips, and she resting here inactive—until she half started from her bed to go to his succor. And this went on until a pale opal glow came into the sky, followed by a still paler pink on the sum- mit of the white Sierras, when she rose and hurriedly began to dress. Stull so sanguine was her hope of meeting him that she lin- gered yet & moment to select the brown ing! She was within a few steps of her own @oor when the sleeping woods and silent air Holland skirt and yellow sunbonnet she had worn when she first saw him. And she had only seen him twice! Only twicel tt Larrabee’s two half-brothers on you. And you must go like a d—d fool and leave these yer things behind you in the bresh,” he went on querulously, lifting Madison Ciay’s dust coat, hat and shot gun from his horse, which stcod saddled at the door. “Luckily I picked them up in the woods ccmin’ here. Ye ain't got more than time to get over the state line and among your folks thar afore they'll be down on you. Hustle old man? What are you gawkin’ and starin’ at Madison Clay kad stared amazed ani bewildered—horror stricken. The incidents of the past night for the first time flashed upon him cleariy—hcpelessly! The shot, his finding Salomy Jane alone in the woods, er confusion and anxiety to rid herself of him, the disapp nee of the shotgun, and now this new discovery of the taking of his hat and coat for a disguise! She had killed Paul Larrabee in that disguise, after pro- ecking his first harml shot! She, his own child, Salomy Jane, had disgraced her- self by a man’s crime—had disgraced him y usurping his right, and taking a mean ntage, by deceit, of a foe! » that gun,” he sald, hoarsely. Breckinridge handed him the gun in won- der and slowly gathering suspicion. Madi- Seth cremiined nipple and muzzle; one barre! ad been discharged; it was true. The dropped from his hanc¢ aa “Look here, old man,” said Breckenridge, with a darkening face, “there’s bin no foul biay here. Thar‘s bin no hiring of men, no deputy to do this job. You did it fair and square—yourself.”” “Yes, by God!” burst out Madison Clay in a hoarse voice. “Who says I didn’t?” Reassured, yet believing that Madison Clay had nerved himself for the act by an overdraft of whisky, which had affected his memory, Breckenridge said, curtly, “Then wake up and lite out, ef ye want me to stand by you.” “Go to the corral and pick me out a hoss,” said Madison, slowly, yet not with out a certain dignity of ‘manner. “I'v suthin’ to say to Selcmy Jane afore I go. He was holding her scribbled note, which he had just discovered, in his shaking hand. Struck by his kinsman’s manner, and knowing the dependent relations of father and daughter, Breckenridge nodded and hurried away. Left to himself, Madison Clay ran his fingers through his hair and straightened out the paper on which Sal- omy Jane had scrawled her note, turned it over and wrote on the back: You might have told me you did it, and not leave your ole father to find it out how you disgraced yourself and him, too, by a lowdown, underhanded, woman's trick! T've said I done It, and took the blame my- self, and all the sneakiness of it that folks suspect. If I get away and I don’t much care which—you needn't foller. The Reuse and stock are yours; but you ain't any longer the daughter of your disgraced father. MADISON CLAY, He had scarcely finished the note when, with clatt of hoofs and a led horse, Brecken: and dge reappeare: triumphant. “You’r ut the door elate in nigger luck, Mad! I found that stole hoss of Judge Beompointer's had got away and strayed among your stock in the corral, Take him and you'r’ safe—he can’t be outrun this side of the state line. “I ain't no hoss thief,” said Madison grimly. “Nobody sez ye are, but you'd be wuss— a fool—ef you didn't take him, I'm testi- mony that you found him among he ; I'll tell Judge Boompointer you've got him, and ye kin send him back when you're safe. The judge will be mighty glad to get him back, and call it quits. So—ef you've writ to Salomy Jane—come.” Madison Clay no ger hesitated. Sal- omy Jane might return at any moment—t would be part of her “fool womanishn and he in no mood to sce her before third party. He laid the note on the gave a hurried glance around the », Which he grimly believed he was ving forever, and, striding to the door, a table, hou: ved on the stolen horse and swept away with his kinsman. But that note lay for a week undis- ed on the table, in full view of the open door. The house was invaded by leaves, pine cones, birds and squirrels during the hot, silent, empty days, and at night by shy, stealthy creatures, but never again, day or night, by any of the Clay family. It was known in the district that Clay had flown across the state line, his daugh- ter was believed to have joined him the next day, and the house was supposed to be locked up. It lay off the main road, and fow passed that way. The starving cattle in the corral at last broke bounds and spread over the woods. And one night a stronger blast than usual swept through the house, carried the note from the table to the floor, where, whirled into a would be cruel, too cruel—not to see him jcrack in the | it slowly ro’ But, though ing of her Tethers proach fo need o! e figure of gist from the shadow of a pine to je unaffected cry of joy that rose her lips died there as $s conene sight ‘of his face in the open a “You the hurt,’:she said, clutching his arm passionately. »::5 “No,” he said. 7“But I wouldn't mind “You're thinkin};I was afeared to come’ back last night, wHen I heard the shootin’, but I did come,” ahe went on, feverishly. “I ran back herg ‘when I heard the two shots, but you wet¢ gone. I went to the corral, but your “wasn't there, and I thought you'd got away.” “I did get away,” said Dart, gloomily. “I killed the man, thinkin’ ho was hunt- in’ me, and torgettin’ I was disguised. He thought I was your father.” “Yes,” sald the girl, joyfully, “he was after dad, and you—you killed’ him. She again caught his hand admiringly. But he did not respond. Possibly there Were points of honor which this horse thief felt vaguely with her father. “Listen,” he sald, grimly. “Others think it was your father killed him. When I did it—for he fired at me first—I ran to the corral again and took my hoss, thinkin’ I might be fol- lered. I made a clear circuit of the house, and when I fired he was the only one, and no one was follerin’—I come back here and took off my disguise. Then I heard his frienés find him in the wood, and I know they suspected your father. And then an- other man came through the woods while I was hidin’, and found the clothes, and took them away.” He stopped and stared at her gloomil But all this was unintelligible to the girl. “Dad would have got the better of him ef you hadn't,” she sald eagerly, “so what's the difference?” “All the same,” he said gloomily, “I must take his place She dia not understand, but turned her head to her master. “Then you'll go back with me and tell him all?” she said obedi- ently. “Yes,” he sald. She put her hand in his out ‘of the wood together. thousand difficulties, but, chiefest of all, that he did not love her as she did. She would not have taken these risks against their happines and they crept She foresaw a But ethics and heroism, As they were issuing from the wood they the sound of galloping hoofs, and ely time to -hide themselves before n Clay, on the stolen horse of Judge mpointer, swept past them with his kinsman. omy Jano turned to her lover. And here I might, as a moral romancer, pause, leaving the guilty, passionate girl eloped with her disreputable lover, des- tined to lifelong shame and misery, misun- derstood io the last by a criminal, fastidi- ous parent. But I am confronted by cer- tain facts on which this romance is based. A month later a handbill was posted on one of the sentinel pines announcing that the property would be sold by auction to the highest bidder by Mrs. John Dart, daughter of Madison Clay, Esa. and It was sold accordingly. Still later—by ten years— the chronicler of t ited a cer- tain “stock,” or “breeding farm" in the Blue Grass ‘country, famous for the popu- lar racers it had produced. He was told that the ow vas the best judge of horse- flesh in the country. “Small wonder,” add- say as a young man out in California he was a horse thief, and only saved himself by eloping with some rich farmer's daughter. But he's a straight-out and respectable man now, whose word about horses can’t be bought; and as for hi fe,,she's a beauty! To see her at the imap rigged out In the latest fashion, you'd yever think she had ever lived out of New York or wasn’t the wife of one of its millionaires.” CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR NOTES Tomorrow evening will occur what in many of the Chriatian, Endeavor Societies {s known as consecration meeting, and the topic for the occasion is “Christian Growth. = The Y. P. S. C. E. of Metropolitan A. M. E. Church is reported as steadily increas- ing in interest and usefulness to the church and cause. Itsspmwayer, meeting commit- tee has inaugurated a Bible study class every Wednesday evening; and a mission- ary platform metting ofee a month, the next one occurring tomorrow evening, when it will consider the subject of “Systematic G The Junior Christian Endeavor Society of St. Paul's English Lutheran Church- gave its second annual banquet in the Sunday school rooms of the church last éVening, from 7 to 9 o'clock. The list of invited guests included the pastor, Sunday school superintendent, ex-superintendents of the y, officers of the Y. P. 8. C, E., and a few others. Admission was by card only, and one-minute speeches by the gue were a feature of the happy occasion. Miss Mabel V. Griffiths is the society's superin- tendent, with Messrs. L. Russell Alden and George R. Linkins as assistants. The pres- ent officers of the society are Hattle Seitz, president; Clamos Stinzing, vice president; A. Grace Alden, secretary; Ruppert Suman, treasurer. Rey. Chauncey Botsford, a former St. Paul's boy, preached an inter- esting sermon to a large congregation last Sunday evening. Rev. Francts E. Clark reports 8,065 com- rades of the Quiet Hour as now enrolled. The June subject for meditation is ‘The Secret of Power.” This feature of Chris- tlan Endeavor work is receiving much at- tention at the hands of President Leet and others of the District Union, and will no doubt result in great good to the spiritual life in our city’s chure Active steps are now being taken by the large membership of Mount Vernon Place M. E. Church South looking toward the placing of the church in a state of com- plete repair. Painting outside and inside, trescoing, new windows, new carpets and a new system of lighting are for which funds are be! E During Dr. Radcliffe’s absence in attend- ance upon the Presbyterian general assern- bly, of which he has been elected modera- tor, the pulpit of New York Avenue Pres- byterian Chureh is being filled very ably by Rev. Charles A. Dickey, D. D, of Phila- delphia. The Japanes uvenir tea recently given by the Christian Endeavor Soctety of Israel C. M. 8, Church was quite a financial suc- cess. The proceeds will be used to liqui- date a pledge the soclety made to assist the ng for some repairs to be made to the church. ‘The social committee of the Fifth Congre- gational Christian Endeavor Society held a social at tho residence of the president, Mr, Miller, last Friday evening. An inter- esting program was given, which was much enjoyed by the large number present. ‘The social committee is composed of Miss Dar. ling, Mrs. Miller and and Mrs. J. W. Taylor. i as week's Tenth Legion enrollment is 397, The new edifice of the Ninth Street Chris- tian Church, 9th tind D streets north 5 will be formally dedicated next Sunday, the 29th. At the meeting of the Christian’ En- deavor Soctety of thé church, to be held at 6 o'clock dedicatign eYening, the subject will he “Whole-Hearted Service.” ‘The mecting will be condueted by Mr. W. W. Tuckey, chairman ef the union lookout committee of the Distriet C. E. Union, who will be assisted by President Grant Leet. and others of the District Union. It is aa interesting fact to know that the Ninth Street Christian Church, is in the full mean- ing of the term a Ghristian Endeavor Church, as the ehurch organization devel- oped from a livexChristian Endeavor So- ciety, whose members formed a larger part of the charter members of the present church. % or Protecting! Sensitive Teeth. From Harper's Bazar, People who are the Victims of sensitive teeth that crumble and acquire caviti readily may do much toward checking this dental decay by the use of a simple rem- edy. A bottle of milk of magnesia should be kept on the washstand, and each night, after brushing the teeth just before retir- tng, some of it should be held in the mouth for a minute, that it may reach each side of every tooth. By this process a coating of the magnesia is formed over the sensi- tive enamel, which {s thus protected from the action of the acids that form in the mouth during sleep. The magnesia will re- main on the teeth for three or four hours. Washing the mouth with a solution of picartonate of soda after eating sour fruits or salads is also recommended by dentists, as the soda, like the magnesia, counteracts the injurious effects of the acid upon the enamel, tho Wider to know what had Henpencs. a the woods e dim gnt the Smoming she saw IN THE WHEAT PIT. \ thoy ltt... DEALING IN WHEAT Methods by Which Speculators Some- times Amass Fortunes. CLEVER JUGGLING OF THE MARKET The Success Which Has Attended Young Leiter's Venture. HOW CORNERS ARE MADE Written for The Evening Star. (Copyright, 1898, by the International Literary and News Service.) ORE THAN. TWO billion bushels of wheat come up out of the earth every year. The govern- ment estimate of the 1807 crop in the United States was 690,000,000 bushels. ‘These bushels of wheat at from fifty cents to §2 each are the chips of the great wheat gamblers. Cor- nering wheat is only & game between speculators. The public is not harmed; for no man can permanently increase the price of a universal product that is harvested in every month of the year and tn every country. As the game is played with one of the necessities of life, the public sometimes feels the effects: but when the price of wheat changes per- manently, it is due to causes beyond the control of any speculator, though a “cor- ner” may be credited with the result. But so intimate is the relation between the world’s markets and such a nice balance of prices is maintained that speculators by selling or buying large quantities of wheat cause fluctuations in the price, and for a short time may control tne wheat supply of a nation. The movement of a finger of a cable operator in Chicago produces a flash in London; the tinkle of a great wheat operator's bell summoning the office boy shocks the delicate equilibrium of business forces, and the Italian peasant across the ocean goes to bed supperless, because wheat has reached a prohibitive figure and the bakers ve closed their s It tickles the imagination to fancy ulator in Chicago doubling the price of every loaf of bread in the world with Croesu: e results. But a m: ascends a dangerous path to dizzy heights when he tries to control wheat. A misstep means ruin. For Future Delivery, The transactions in wheat, as well as in other products dealt in at the great ex- changes of the world, consist chiefly of buying and selling for future delivery. “May wheat” is to be delivered the 3lst of the coming May; July wheat on July 31, and so on. Before the time for deliver comes a hundred things may have hap- pened to effect its value. A cow may kick over a lamp, or a Span- jard touch a button and blow up a war- hip; there may be a famine in Ru s a plague in India, a session of con- gress, or @ flood on the Mississippi. Wheat is bought by the professional dealers not to use, but to gamble with. In many respects the exchanges are great clubs where people play with each other Philip D. Armour, for large stakes. wheat actually changes hands possible to bu els without a tracts, not whea tor who thinks th advance ag! wheat at a dollar 2 a certain date. He exchanges contrac with a “bear,” who expects a fall in prices and agreed on his part to sell the wheat at the appointed time. h man puts up a “margin” of from three to ten c a bushel. If a speculator agrees to sell wheat at $1, and it advances to $1.02, he will evidently lose two cents a bushel when Comparatively little and it is and sell thousands of bush- ally owning a grain. are dealt in, hel on or before he carries out his contract. This “mar- gin” is merely a guarantee that the specu- lators will meet their losses. When the loss is equal to the m gin has to be put up. in these transactions except the cash for the margin. Of course, a speculator who has given a contract to buy may “hedge” by a similar contract from some one else. When the day for delivering the wheat comes, the man who has lost settles by paying the difference between the market price and the price named in his contract. Making a Corner. A “corner” {s formed when a speculator buys contracts for more wheat than the shorts are able to deliver to him, when the day of delivery comes. He then proceeds to “squeeze” the “bears;” they are forced to settle at the price he dictates. The danger to the “bull” lies in his pndgresti- gin, additional mar- ‘0 money is used mating the wheat supply and the amount of cas y to pay for the argins amount of w con- S to accept contracts offer, the market “breaks,” and he makes ‘an assignment; nd another victim falls into the wheat pit. It sometimes happens that when “bears” are “cornered,” they do not settle by pay- ing the difference between the market price and the sel din their | centracts, but th eliver the wheat. In this speculater firds that he owns storehou! full of wheat that must be dis) 1 of before his “deal” will show any If th iefly to t sup- in the market price mznipulation and not to a short whe ply, this wheat, which costs a large sum for one day's s a e mar- ket when he trie: ; and al the profits ma a handful of liquid air. The “bears” who were not put hors de combat by the corner will then re- cuperate. This happened to B. P. Hutch- inson, the celebrated “Old Hutch,” who succeeded in cornering wheat, but part with most of his profits in marketing his holdings. Must Be Considered. There must be a short crop if wheat is to be successfully cornered. The world 1s scoured by wheat speculators for informa- ticn concerning the probable size of future crops. The number of considerations af- fecting a monthly crop of 160,000,000 of bushels is infinite, and here the superiority of brain over brain is manifested. It has been said that Mr. Leiter was led into purchasing wheat through the rel ble information that he received concerning the condition of the 1807 wheat crop in Europe and India. The shortage abroad Was so great that it offset the effects of a large crop in the United States. But the prescience of a prophet will not avail a Joseph Leiter. speculator in his efforts to corner the mar- ket, unless he has cash for margins on his contracts. He must be prepared to ¢: y from 10 to 15 million bushels of gra are needed. Mr. Leiter at one time was obliged to use about $10,000,000 for thi purpose. It is no joke to attempt to corner wheat, as nearly every man who has at- tempted it has learned. One of the first to make this discovery was James R. Keene, new of New York, who has since made eral fortunes in Wall street and horse rac- ing. About twenty years ago Mr. Keene came to Chicago with a fortune. It is said that he lost $2,000,000 before he gave up trying to squeeze the Chicago bears. At any rate he lost all he had. Famous Dea! The celebrated Handy deal occurred in 1881, when a Cincinnati speculator named Handy, anticipating a scarcity in wheat, began buying, until the price was advanc- ed from 90 cents to $1.25 a bushel. It was then that the famous speculator, Philip Armour, entered the pit as a leader on the bear side. He sold contracts to Handy and was forced to settle at a heavy loss. ‘Tho tables were turned later, when Handy becatne a bear, and Armour forced the price up to $1.40 to the utter ruin of Handy who was the first victim of Armour’s speculative genius. George M. Pullman and a number of traders of lesser note vere badly crippled by Armour in the Plankinton corner of 1 All of Armour’s immense resources were called into play, and though wheat was plentiful and a large crop assured, all the July wheat was acquired by Armour, and_ the price kept at $1.30 until the bears had set- led. This was entirely a contest of specu- lators in which the side with the greatest resources won. The futility of @ man at- tempting to corner the market with limit- ed capital was demonstrated in 1884 by Harper, president of the Fidelity Bank of Cincinnati. He forced the contract price up to #4 cents and then the great bears began to deliver cash wheat to him in an attempt to “break his back.” ‘Ten million dellars worth of wheat was presented to him; he could not buy it, so he failed. ‘The’ most sensational wheat corner occur- red in 1888. The crop was very small that year and Hutchinson ly got control of the visible supply of at, which was only 29,000,000 bushels, and’ bought ec tracts for September delivery at from 80 to 9 cents. Two or three days be the last day of September the bears discover- ed that there was scarcely any cash wheat to be had. There was a rush of bears to “cover” the price went up to Many fortunes were lost, but “Old Hutch not much ahead after he sold all the at he had bought. In the same year John H. Cudahy bought an immense emount of May wheat. He under-estimat- ed the supply, and after forcing the p up to # cents he was obliged to unload at a loss of several millions, which went to line the pockets of Philip Armour and the bear leader, Edward Pardridge. Lefter’s Achievement. All operations of the past are dwarfed by the achievements of Joseph Leiter, th youngest and the mest brilliant operator in the Chicago wheat pit. It is difficult even to approximately estimate his win- nings, but the opinion of the leading wheat brokers places them at about five millioi Leiter’s operations can hardly be calle running a corner, because he has actually bought wheat and sold it to consumers. Ut is a remarkable fact that Mr. Leiter was the first to take advantage of the scarcity of wheat in Europe. No one knows whether to credit this to his natural cuteness or information received from Rockefeller and are behind him. others, who, rumor He began to buy July wh said to have taken eight million bushels at an average of 6S cents, which he profit of eight cents a bushel. The for wheat increased, and Leiter rep his performance in September. He declar- ed, while the wheat pit smiled, that he was a wheat merchant, not an exchange opera- tor, and that he expected to send his wheat abroad. He began to buy wheat for De- cember delivery and then Armour fought him in earnest with the whole pit to help. It seemed as If the daring fellow was doom- ed Just as the pit expected him to be s father, Levi rol thirty mill to the rese and Arm z e sellers attempted to w h down young meteor with large deliver mac | Simultaneously. To their sur; he w to take more than they red. T moral lof this is that a with thir millions is sometimes While Jo: er’s guar pay 1 conver ph Leiter, backed tee, was ying his wheat, an- other move was ma y the old bears, They boycotted the heat market, with the i¢ f leav athful op- ponent high and dry with wheat that he could not dispose of. He was equal to the emergency, and the bears were astounded | to learn that after buying up the May op- j tien, which he advanced to $1.05, he was sending his wheat to Europe. Every avail- able vessel was chartered and millions of bushels shipped the conditions } sell bis wheat | eral e So well had he understood proad that he was able to a moderate prof sev Sa bushel. His Good Luck. Then Mr. Leiter had some good luck. He held May ana July wheat only for the pur- pose of providing a market for his cash wheat by increasing the demand for cash wheat to meet May and July contracts. Just after he had closed out his cash wheat and sent it abroad war was declared, and, quite naturally, up went the price of wheat. Instead of selling his May and July wheat at a slight profit and just saving his neck as he expected to do when he bought it, he found that on account of the war and the shortage due to immense exports the de- mand for wheat sent the price to nearly $2 a bushel, and his operations were more surprisingly successful than the quest of } the enchanted prince in wildest fairy tale. | But Mr. Leiter needed something more than luck to enable him to carry off riches in the teeth of the wealthiest and most expe- rienced speculators in the country. The effects of corners in wheat are felt both ways. They do occasionally affect the price of bread by causing a temporary | wheat famine, and Mr. Leite operations in May wheat have probably aggravated the trouble that led to the terrible ric in Italy. On the other hand, the advance in the price of wheat, except in purely speculative deals like Hutchinson's, means more money for the farmers. In the year 1897 500,000,000 bushels of wheat grew in! the United States. This was sold at an average advance of 85 cents a bushel over the price in 1896. The result is that the farmers are better off by the sum of $150,- 001,000. Joseph Leiter must be given some credit for this. If bread is dear, why, corn is cheap, as Mr. Leiter suggested.” The words of the French queen are still perti-, nent. If the people have no bread, let them. eat corn cake. — A Strange Freak of Nature. From the Philadelphia Record, From some of the newer countries called on account of the lack of defi so- e knowledge regarding them, reports of strange freaks and curiosities constantly appear, and as a rule they are laughed at, but once in a while they turn out to be the truth. It is this way with a st ee freak of nature called tk cater- pillar, which is indigenous to New Zealand, ‘This report, which stated that at certain seasons a large black caterpillar would bury itself in the argund and be converted | into the root of a bullrush, was laughed at, like the rest; but now an English scientist, who recently gave an exhaustive investi- gation of the strange phenomenon, stated that in many respects the statements are strictly true. From his report it has been learned that the caterpillar grows to about three and one-haif inches Jong, and when about to assume the chrysalis state buries itself in the ground, and in doing so it is frequently infected by the spores of some fungus, which becomes involved in the scates in its neck. These the larvae is un- able to expel, and the vegetation thus set up rapidly extends throughout the entire boay, replacing each animal cell thus de- stroyed by vegetable matter, and finally converting it into a comparatively dense vegetable structure, which retains every detail of the body, even to the legs, mandi- bles and minutest claw. From the neck, the portion thus infected, there then shoot8 up a single stem, which grows to the height of elght or ten inches, resembling very closely the club-head bulrush in minia- ture. It has no leaves, and if the first stem be broken off another rises in {ts place, though two stems never grow simule teneously trom the same ‘‘caterpillar. ++ A Wind-Built Dyke of Sand. From Invention, An interesting illustration of natural en- gineering is the well-known heavy dyke on the Holland coast, which was built by the winds themselves. The sand formed be- tween the jetties becoming dry sunny weather, and the surface blown ashore on the wind blowing in that direction, ft desired to build a strong ¢ with the sand dunes, and t plished by setting in the about one foot apart, tufts grass near by. ting simply of lttle har were put, each one, into a with the hands, the tuft being s and the sand pressed around. The whole surface of the dry, sandy beach in dune rows sea of The tufts thus placed dug nto this tation, and just back of it point of the existing sandy area, or two rows of reeds were set in the sand, their tops cut off and the stalks seft standing about four feet above the sand—the latter, drifting along over the surface, catchin and in one day almost burying the tufts o grass and standing up one foot along the row of reeds; then another plantation be- ing made, and another, a massive dyke was thus built up to the height of the adjoin- ing dyke. In high storm tides the waves eat into the toe of the slope and pull down the sand, but by the same of build- ing the dyke is again restored to its form~ er size. —— Advice to Humorists. From Harper's Bazer, An interesting problem now before the American humorist is as to the relative im- portance of the Spanish war and the sum- mer girl. He naturally wonders what to do with his time, and which of the two is the more permanent subject bothers him. On the bisis of recent advices the wricer a vises the humorist to stick to the summer girl. She, with her charaoteristic endur- ance, will last until mid-September, contin- uing as usual at the old stand with her wonderful assortment of airs and grace! The war won't—that fs, {t won't if it fought. Of course, if a war isn’t fought it isn’t worth talking about. >o————_ Hicks—Do you think it will pay me to read Brosher's book?” Wicks—“I think it will. It will relieve you of all desire ever to read anything els¢ from his pen."—Boston Transeripy 4