Evening Star Newspaper, August 13, 1898, Page 21

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 13, 1898—24 PAGES. 21 WVIILB- BEAST reek LEAves FRM his NOTES Bok HUNTING LODGE. (Copyright, 1898, by S. S\ McC8ure Co.) Bt. Petersburg, ih its dreary climate and far northerly position make it perhaps the least attractive of the capitais of E rope times of its reputa- tion. Such a thoug im Mat- thew Qu d as he strolled one after- noon surt Quay, the most fash- ionat shfare of the tmperial city. The s dipping into a bank of mist the horizon, d with a ender glow the splendid ions, the granite broad, un- It was the be- tumn, but the weather was warm and pl nt for that year; and already, since the 5 winter 4 partly returned to town resorts and summer villas nd down the smoot Gay, society from cor on the an tw peak said Belcher, ed that littie and took the Jove, it was a Quay, By urt follow you. one; I don't care to talk ncw whom you sa Sa r « i fine woman, and she w v r your bravery.” = id Quin. ver, I know ing? Back “It's id the detective, n't mind givi Ss you may re- ances. You can't can't get a trace of He vanishe as d—trom police, tech on ight clue, nything. I that Paul that ke had two asked Quin. yond doubt. ¥ what description Perersbu that i assented ry, and I am out of it 1 men entered the le near by. Quin prudently changed the sub- ject « rsation, and shortly afterward they dined toge and sep- arated in the evening. Quin went to his hotel on the Nevskoi Prospekt to write come letters and up. Noon the next @ay found him traveling toward the dis- tant Ural mountains via Moscow. . . . . * . . Between two and three months have Passed since the rescue of the Countess Sendoff in St. Petersburg, and the curtain rises again on a gloomy and wintry scene far from the imperial eity. Night had fallen some hours before—a starless, cloudy night, bitterly cold. A heavy sledge, drawn by three sturdy horses, was skimming over a lonely road at the base of the Urals. An angry, cutting wind whistled through the dark forest on either side. Snow lay deep on the ground and was falling steadily in fine flakes. Three men were huddled together on the seat of the sledge; Quin was one of them, and his com- fons were Russians named Serge and ivan. The body of the vehicle was occu- pied by @ stout wooden cage, in which a monstrous brown bear moved restlessly, giving vent now and then to an angry roar. The bear, caught in a trap among the mountains on the previous day, had been transferred that afternoon to the cage. Now it was on its way to Quin’s camp, where food and warmth ewaited the hungry men. * | it wili go hard with | But the journey seemed already to have exceeded the proper distance, and as yet _ | there was no welcome glimmer of the camp- | fires, doubt, Are you sure we are going in the right tio’ he finally asked. ‘Since your honor wishes to know, I will k the truth,” Ivan replied, bluntly. “s @ hundred rubles to a glass of vodka have gone astray.” >... e lost,” added Serge. “This | blinding snowstorm ts to blame. Truly, it jis a great misfortune.” | echoed Quin. know where the camp lies The two Russians shook lessly. “It will be the best plan,” said Ivan, turn around and drive back as we came.” He had barely spoken, when 2 mournful | howl was heard at some distance in the A second followed quickly, and then Quin began to feel misgivings and ‘And you don’t eir heads hope- tered Quin. “They are wolves!” en preserve muttered Serge. howling increased, rising netly above the jangle of the bells and the angry voice of the caged bear. Wolf called to are so we dare not turn Drive like the wind. unless we beat the nelter.” . He plied the whip, ed on the backs of the to a swift gallop. The ravenous bi or needed no urgin. the las the id e. Swa: ide to side, ploughed ho thi '§ snow and bounded ever rough places in the road. Quin and with six-chambered re- > sure that the weapons ded, and pocket with cartridges. In a few minutes, when more than a mile had been covered, it became evident that fi arms must soon be brought into u: he clamor of the wolves had increased their howls were deafening. e were seen in the thickets by the edge of the road, and presently dark forms darted out. Then the number rapidly swelled, until the whole pack bounded into the open. Two score of the vage bru . emboldened by hunger end ping over the snow, e of the fugitives. ach stuffed a conventent On on through the wintry night. Above the tumult the bells jingled mer- rily and mocki 2b ed or enrag engers of the whil cut of t ge. The snorting and terrified horses galloped as madly as ever, the whip cracked incessantly, and Ivan uttered shout after shout. Eut the savage pack gained | steadily from behind, and in front was no prospect of shelter, only the desolate road | fading into the snowy mist, and the dark | forest right and left. : ready!” Quin cried to “We | must try to check the brutes!” | The two men swung around on the seat | with their back to ivan, who had all he | could do to mai age the horses. They watch- and waited, revolvers in hand. The fore- most of the pack made a spurt, and the wolf fro: . until a yelping ch air. Quin fous on for the wolves t hunt,” he exclaimed, | the bitter weather must have them. They are collecting in a they will m be in hot pursui ‘The First Few Lines Were Sufficient. next instant a huge wolf leaped upon the end of the sledge. Crack! went Quin’s pis- tol, and the brute disappeared. ‘Another leaped fairly on to the bear’s cage, and was promptly shot by Serge. The pack did not stop to rend the bodies of their comrades, as ts often the case. They came on persistently, howling in chorus, and soon they were right and left of the sledge. That they did not enter it was due to the alertness of Quin and the Russian. They had their work cut out for them, and lively work it was. Rapidly they fired shot after shot, selecting the nearest and most daring of their pursuers. They were careful not to let both weapons be empty at the same time. Every dead ani- mal seemed to be replaced by a fresh one, and the pack pressed on undismayed. Meanwhile the furious, jolting motion was eausing the cage to slip by degrees be- yond the edge of the sledge, a fact which Quin and his companions were too busy to observe. Suddenly a couple of the fleetest wolves actually passed the sledge and bounded along on the right, snapping and snarling at the very heels of the horses, who be- came nearly frantic with terror. Quin took quick aim and fired, killing one of the brutes, The Rusaian missed the other with twos . fover Jin its death agonies. More shots, hut hit it with the third, and It roll z ten to the front, closing in s0 wol fearlessly that several were knocked down: and trampied upon by the flying hoofs. The situation was one of frightful peril. Once the horses were overpowered and throttled, the men would be at the mercy of the raging pack. “The holy saints save us!” cried Ivan, his teeth chattering with terror. “Use the whip! Don't stop! shouted Quin. “Take that big fellow behind, Serge. T'll_ settle the one in front. Five times more the pistols cracked, and four wolves dropped out of the race, elther Killed or disabled. Then, at the most criti- cal moment, the sledge bumped violently over a slender tree that had been blown across the road. It careened to one side, but fortunately did not upset. The cage, however, slid off before the eyes of Quin and Serge. It struck the ground with a duil crash, rolled over and burst apart. The scene that followed, though it was ible for but the fraction of a minut was highly satisfactory to the fugitives. The wolves, with several exceptions, drew off from the pursuit and swarmed around the cage. The bear tumbled out of the wreck, and furiously met the onset of the savage pack. A lively scrimmage took place, and the clamor that rent the air was blood-curdling. Then the curtain of fall- ing snow intervened, and the sledge dashed on to the music of Jangling bells and the tramp of hoofs. We are safe for the present,” exclaimed Quin, “but it was a steep price to pay. That bear was worth fifty pounds.” We will trap you another,” cried Serge. “Faster, good Ivan. The hungry brutes will soon be flying after us again.” Ivan cracked his whip, and the jaded horses tore on with a spurt. A mile fell behind, and yet another. Then an ominous chorus of howls came to the ears of the fugitives, and they made out a cluster of dark forms spéeding behind the sledge. “That means another fight for life,” cried Quin. “They will soon overhaul u: He little dreamed, as he spoke, that a place of refuge was at hand. A moment later a row of yellow lights were seen dim- ly through the driving snow, and then the aying of the hounds was heard “vi suing wolves stopped, sniffed the made off in full retreat. The he Icped on, swerved to the left into a sj cicus court, and stood trembling and pe! The Terrified Horses Gatloped Madly. spiring. On one side of ables, and the other two sides were over- looked by the windows and timber walls of a hunting lodge, evidently the possession of some nobleman. Half a dozen great hounds barked a hoarse welcome to the fugitives, and a number of the servants ran out, some carrying guns and lant: Before explanations could be mado or questions asked, in the midst of the con- fusion and excitement, a woman cloaked in furs emerged from the hou the court to the sledge. The the court were her beautiful, imperious face, and Quin recognized her at once. “The Countess Sandoff!’ he exclaimed, unguardedly, The woman stared at him haughtily then her cheeks flushed, and she eagerly made a step nea: You are the Englishman who stopped my horse on the Court Quay,” she said. “Is it not so?” “Madam, you are right,” “yet that slight service hardly warrants me in trespassing upon your hospitality But it is unavoldable. I have lo: and have narrowly escaped w frem a pack of wolves. kind—" “You are welcome,” the countess inter- rupted. “My husband has lung wished to meet you, that he might thank you for saving my life. Come! I will see that your servants have every attention." Quin entered the house and was relieved of his heavy fur cloak in a roomy hall. ‘The recent adventure seemed like a dream when he found himself before a blazing coal fire in a luxuriously furnished apart- ment that was evidently Count Sandcft’ brary. The countess asked a few qu tions of her guest, and then rted en the pretext of summoning jer band. Left to himself, Quin walked carelessly about the room, examining with interest the choice books and prints, the paintings and bronzes, He was especially attracted by a small canvas that appeared to be set in the paneled wall—a hand clasping a Jeweled dagger. One of the painted stones on the hilt seemed to protrude, and to sat- isfy himself he touched it. He felt a hard knob under his finger, and unconsciously pressed it. Instantly the door of a secret clcset flew open and a number of letters and papers fell to the floor. Alarmed by what he had done, Quin made haste to conceal the traces of the blunder. A low exclamation was forced to his lips ay he discovered that severul of the letters were addressed to Paul Gourko, The next instant he came upon an open sheet of pa- per covered with writing. He glancdd at it briefly, and the first f2w lines were suffi- cient to reveal a startling fact; namely, that Count Sandoff and Paul Gourko the Nihilist were one and the same. Quin gasped for breath. He remembered th2 conversation with Larry Belcher, and he knew that he had stumbled upon the mystery of Paul Gourko's disappearance. What a gulf between the two identities— Russian nobleman and nihilist! “By Jove, I must get this stuff out of the Way,” he muttered, suddenly realizing the irightful peril that threatened him. “My fe won't be worth a moment’s purchase if it is known that I opened this closet—” The rustle of a woman's gown startled him, and he looked around to see ths Count- ess Sandoff. Her indignant and furious glance so unnerved him that he let the pa- pers and letters drop to the floor; the closet door was swinging at his elbow. : “You spy!” hiss2d the countess. “You vile traitor! “It was an accident, on my honor,” stam- mered Quin. “I happened tg touch the painting—” “But you have read the papess; your face tells me so!” Quin was silent, not knowing what to say, and just then footsteps were h2ard in the hall. The countess, whose expression indi- cated irresolution, called, in a loud and ter- ified voice: “Alexis!” .. The next instant Count Sandoff burst into the room—a tall, stern-facsd man, with a black mustache and a partly bald head. He tcok in the eituation at a glance, and utter- ed a shout that immediately brought three other men to his side—evidently conspira- tors ks himself. Quin’s revolver was in his cloak, and he had no chance to defend himself with the furniture. The four threw themselves upon him, and though he strug- gied desperately, knowing that capture meant death, he was helpless against such “Don’t hurt him, Alexis!" he heard the countess cry. Then his throat was tightly clutched, and Quin replied; my Hfe If you will be so he was borne backward. A cloth saturated with some pungent liquid-was-presse@ to his lips and nostrils. aAvmist swam before his eyes, his strength= failed ‘him and “he re- membered nothing more. * ry eooe ee * With a throbbing Head, with cramped and aching limbs, Quin. returned to consclous- ness. His arms anil legs were tied, and by the light from a single window he saw that he was lying on the floor of a small and empty room. He was dazed at first, but presently he remembered what had ‘hap- pened. He tried to break his fetters, but in vain. Certain death confronted him, for he knew that no mercy could be expected from Count Sandoff and his fellow con- spirators. Suddenly he heard faint footsteps, and then the creaking of a lock. As he looked toward the door it opened slowly, and a woman entered. By the dim light he rec- ized the Countess Sandoff. She ap- ached and bent over him, a knife heid and. “Be quiet, she whispered. “I am here as a friend. Oh, why did you come to this house? I belfeve your story, but my hus- band does not. He and hi: riends have decided to kill you in the morning. It is now two hours past mi night. Has the effect of the drug worn off?” “I think so,” Quin answered, hopefully. “If I save you," the countess went on, “will you swear to say no’ hing of what you have discovered tonight?” “Madam, I cannot take that oath,” Quin replied, firmly. The countess sighed regretfuliy, “I thought you would refuse; you are an Englishman,” she sald. But you saved my life, and'I woutd be unworthy the name of oman if I let you perish. I will take heaven reward you!” Quin whis- The next instant the sharp knife had sev- ered his bonds, and he rose unsteadily to his feet. Beyond a slight dizziness, he was all right, as he assured the countess. “Then you must g0 at once,” she replied. “Delay may be fatal. The court is below, and present it is deserted. Open the window and drop into the snow. In the far corner of the stable you will find horses. Choose one, and ride for your life. Turn to the left and keep straight on the forest road. It will lead you to the neighborhood of your eamp. “But you? “Have no fear,” the countess whispered. : provided for my own safety, and I not be nd my “They . but their lives will can do nothing for them at the intrepid and generou ted woman elided from the room « y shut the door behind her. It required several moments for Quin convince aimself t had just tray pired was not 4 hen, ¢heered } the hope of he followed instruc ns. Hi y opened the window, w that court was empty, and drop- lightly into the snow. He hurri acre: , and entered the farthest com: ment of the stables, which was dimly light- antern on the wail. He chose rse, saddled and bridled it, and led it out At that moment he heard a door c and saw a servant, who h ently be roused from sleep, issue from another pa of the stables, suspiciously to Quin, who at once sprang into the sa die and rode out of the court bearing to th: left. As he went flying along the snows road he heard shout after shout behit: until the whole place seemed in ar lessens my chance thought Quin I'm in for @ hot ch. It won't bi ill they come tearing after me.’ Half an hour ‘passed, and the wintry night gave forth no d but the moaning ot the wind among th trees. Ii did not tcllow from thi: r. that the pursuers were not ont And p: ex.tly, thrili at Bis heart, Quin hea the muiiled pounding of hoofs in the rear. He wa tr of a fleet animal, and for more than an hour he thundered on at a furious gal after mile be hind him, of whom were on | nto gain. ‘This continued steadily, and Quin was powerle: to help it. e dull thud of the hoofs grew louder, and a hue wnd cry reached his ear Locking over-his shoulder, he could dark mazs inst the snow, and it was evident that himse!f had been sighted For another half Rour-he urged his pant © to its utmostospeed, and then-an e “obstacles loaned before bith. He drew rein on.the-brink of a smail riy er, where the road, appeared to end. It not a@ very ‘wide stre am, butit was so lft that its waters had not yet froze ver. A mass of slowly-moving drift ice large cakes and small, clogged-the channe: frcm shetre to shore. On the farther side rear Count companions were cominz; was the forest and safety; in the Sardoff and his up rapidly. To hesitate was to be lost, and Quin stantly decided on a risky venture. ‘Th was no alternative. He threw himsest frm the saddie, turned his steed loose, and sprang upon one of the floating. ic cakes. Swiftly he advanced across the leaping from foe to floe, from cake. swung and dipped w his weight, and water spurted as high a his_ mid But he mado no misstep: and he was more than two-thirds of th. Way aercss, when he looked back and saw the count’s party check their horses dismount hastily. Crack—erack! crack—crack! and revolvers a lively fire was arery n- From rifles poured, and ar S mingled with the fusillade. They were poor marksme: » else Quin b not escaped. The bullets whistled about him as he lezped upon the shore. Not ball had hit him, and with a deflant shout he dashed into the shelter of the forcat, His enemies were not inclined to risk so dangerdus a passage, and after a short interval they remounted and turned back towards the hunting lodge. Quin felt that he was by no means se. cure. -He had not the slightest idea wh he was, and he shrewdly suspected that the countess had purposely sent him ij the wrong direction. During the rest of the night ard until soon of the next day he wandered through the forest, suffering from cold and hunger. Then he stumbled on a little settlement, and learned from the rude peasants that his camp was more than forty miles away. He reached it two days later—he had to travel on foot—and Was gladly welcomed by his hired Russian hunters, who had given him up for lost. Ivan and Serge had not returned, and Quin lost no time in procuring a horse and sledge and driving to the nearest village, where he told his amazing story to the au- thorities. Meanwhile, two more days had elapsed, and when the police arrived at Count Sandoff’s hunting lodge, accompanied by Quin, the birds had flown. Ivan and Serge, however, were found locked up in a cellar; they had been confined there for neatly a week, with an insufficient supply of food and water. Vigorous efforts were made to capture the fugitive nthilists, but Quin was ignor- ant of the result until he returned to St. Petersburg, six weeks later, taking with him thr-e fine bears for Prince Raloffsky’s collection. There he met Larry Belcher, and learned from him that Count Sandoff and his wife, with the other conspirators, wero known to be safe in Europe. They had escaped by rail from Orenburg to the Sea of Azov, trayelinglin disguise and un- der false passports, and had sailed on a steamer from the pert tf Rostov. The count’s property was, of course, confiscated by the government, and he will never venture k te Russia. Quin has not run across fhe count or his wife in the course of hig travels, but it is quite likely that he wilt some day meet again the charming Russian woman who saved him from an untitrely death at the hunting lodge in the Ural, - Asking Teb Much, From the Pittsburg Emperor Willi Germany dislikes his officers ex- Yofiled at parade or had occasion to criticise old Gent m Meerscheidt on that account, ani recent ‘review in Berlin the kaiser reprimanded him for los- ing his self-possession at a trying moment. “If your majesty thinks that I am getting too old, I bag of you-te allow me to resign.” “No, no,” replied the kaiser, “you are too yeung to resign. ‘Indeed, if your blocd dicn’t course through your veins quite so fast you would-be a more useful army leader. % F Qn: the evening of that day the kaiser and the general met gt a court ball. The gen- eral was to young ladies who, for lack of room, were not dancing. “Ah, Meerscheldt,” cried Willlam, “that is right; to marry. Take a young wife, — that Lasrilg a temperament of rs soon vanish.” ey igang than I could possibly stand.” . “BUCKING.” COWBOY CAVALRYMEN The Wild Riders of the Plains Make Model Soldiers. LONG SERVICE IN THE SADDLE eee They Combine Bravery, Confidence, Endurance and Character. —— AIS WAY Si HLT SEO CG at ee (Copyright, 1898, by the International Literary and News Service.) is suppor’ the fact that the cavalry forces in ail ages of been recruited from regions was the only man by 2 hors: boy at so early an that hroughout his growth and manhood it w an instinct with him rather th ment. The 4 the shiz Khan, the Huns of Attila, all were bred to sit in the saddie from infancy d to conquer and govern and perform ir work in life from the back of a hor ‘The Visigoth riders who turned the of battle and saved the world’s civilization at Chalons, and the mailed knights who fought the battles of Europe through the middle ages, w the saddle and every equestrian e: se. A Difficult Mount. In modern warfare the story has been the same. The Mamelukes who carried the Turkish sovereignty across northern Af- rica; the Sikhs, the striking cavalry arm in the extension of British dominion over India; the Arabs of the Soudan, whose charges plerced again and again the Brit- ish hollow square which had stood unbrok- en against the onslaughts of Napoleon's squadrons, and the Cossacks, who have carried the Russian arms and dominion eastward and southward through Asia to the Japan sea and the gates of India—all were born to the back of a horse, and their life and action have been inseparably bound with that of their fleet and docile war steeds. The Modern School. There is another class of cavalrymen like the British mounted regiments in In- dia, the French in Algiers and those splen- did riders, the United States cavairy, sea- soned by scouting service and Indian cam- paigns on the plains—cavairymen of the modern school who fight either in the sad- dle or dismounted, and through constant frontier warfare against sayage horsemen have become admirably effective troopers. Whatever other qualifications he mey have one is indispensable in the cavalryman— that he shall ride well, which implies both natural aptitude and long training. Hence in our country for a quarter of a century past, in considering the men available for cavalry recruits in the event of 1 sudden A Steep Trail. to arms, those wild riders, the cow- of the western plains, have naturally first to mind. The Cowboy. The cowboy, as he is known today, has come into being in the last twenty-five le following the ctlyil war the building of transcontinental raifl- ways, the destruction of the buffalo, and the general restriction of the predatory In- Gians to the limits of reservations left the be a perfect cavalryman the man learned to ride before he learned is the saying of a high author- tion, and the art of riding was | ens, the Tartar hordes of Timour | tide | trained from boyhood to } attle to the e gather) ent of the n vag , multipli He can ride and throw the rope as well Patrolling a Boundary. time vaqueros has nd fewer of his lawless, picturesque pred was bred pon the rar or came a: oung man from the “ tes,” attracted dventurous life of th and his fortune so many men did in y experience more or less pain- ful, he learned the idiosyncracies of bron- cho nature, how to keep his saddle a pitching sea,” with his po ping st le; beneath him, and to handie cattle in all their moods in’ all weathers, Cavalry in Warfare. Let u3 consider what part the cavairy service is supposed to play in the military campaigns of today, when the crossing o sabers and bayonets seems to be a tht of the past. It is an cra of missile w: fare, conducted with long-range, rapid-fir- ery and small arms, in which an ht be annihilated before it could close quarters with the enemy ropean wars the cavalry on both barring one or two notewortry occasions, played an inconsid- ‘able part in the brunt of the heavy fig g. In the American civil war the res! of no important battle turned upon a cay- alry The principal effectiveness in warfare -between civilized powers today is in scouting, foraging and escort duty, in cutting off an enemy's sup- ply trains, in seizing, through its celerity of movement, seme important point of van- tage and holding it until a force of fantry or artillery can come up to utilize ecme In the last four great to Some One in Sight. it, and in harassing the retreat of an enemy; and,> dismounted, it may render effective service in infantry jdiring. Be- yond this is still the contingency always that at a desperate stage in a battle the cavalry of an army may be called to hurl itself against the enemy’s front, although almost certain to be shattered’ and sac- rificed in the effort. A Model Reeruit. For all of these services it would be diffi- cult to find anywhere recruits better fitted ift character and training. than the cowboy ! val repetition of such calls as thi for you’ ¢ accustomed to hardships, to sudden callé to duty, and to long stretches in the sad- His dle without food or rest ted is the under the rain rs, as may his simple fare h the sami as that of the arm His home if the saddle, and*he ts usuaily who can manage his firearms han the back of a horse. His st an ity, as he sees th thinks that nothing ts so o In his personal quar: his life and his employer's E wainst Indians and bers he has in many cases He is re pnd on hi valuable « na cave airyman, he bas an Indian instinct of lo- call and can nge and difficult: he Is an ultra-loyal Am ly patriotic and ready a for his country’s honor hat.” of the Courage and Characte: Against these indisputable me sa cavalry recruit there has been raised the objec that he ts lawless in personal behavior, impatient of offictal contre insistent upon doing things in his ow of: fc first tt Is tot ticn of a good fight dividual cter and coura, who co War is a bh an crseless thing, and in the bluod of the a standard to victory. spirit of action which impels a cow “turn loose” when he comes in meni for a jollifi and to own” is a misdire rey, which, in another char turned to havoc among his country As to his enduring military nd_ disel- pline and obeying wil orders of commanding offi question would mutin: mat understan¢ conic control nc em whe What discipline we oy will show in g A GEORGIA CRACKER DANCE. One of axnres of the Whites. . ot the cf fete ment some umong ugar bilin days and thes: ber the gri g0 in rotation etness may be | body is invite sw in the the 1 to mall upri ne is crushed adily or four sticks cf ca The zree th just one en¢ nish jul trough, which with atrainer. T flat of dron After five c skimming Ww moments a’ the ands arc and boiler saccharine contents. The syrup is amber and of delicious flavor, and ju few moments’ over boiling would ral ta change ft to sugar, for which your true cracker has little use, the syrup having a much greater financial value. The skimmings are all carefully put in a clean barrel, re they scon ferment and make a kind of beer, they call it, which with age becomes highly in- toxicating. Well, the cracker works stead jily, for him, for some days, knowing full well that his fun will come when once the oiling is over, for invariably they end w a candy pull and dan N w, truly, a cracker dance is a peculiar titution, and one whi furnish s amusement to the outsid fortu’ | one with hi and little, attend, © enough to be his fullest amount asion. There always some am em who can play a violin, and t hey play must be an heirloom, for it is 4 ways the game and only one. It is alw the same monotonous jangle on a f and played as fast as possil cracker s2ems to enjoy it, and hi time to the mea: be. As the roo no! can dance at once, and th set, two couples being on sides. 1 in one ach of the four The fun commences early and continues late, a fresh lot of dancers always being ready to take the places of those who ara wearled out with a good half hour's rapid dancing, for 2ach set holds the r at least that long. Al night long, above the rd a contin- “Hon- All-a- ting-a-tang of the violin, is h ners; now you’ corner: xt couple follow a: 8 sat! Twine the blacksnake First lady to the right float!’ and such floating, about as ai graceful as a careering mule. N lemon- ade and hit a well sweetened with noth Honor the flower basket, now the wood box! Big ring all around! Ladies to the middie of th> floor and gentlemen to they seats!” Then each gentleman makes @ frantic grab for his partner and leads her, rosy and panting, to the coolest spot he can find, for seats are few and far between A Recent Official Function in Texas. From the Mexican Evening Telegram. Goy. Hogg of Texas, who is much inter- ested in dress reform, has just given a party which was attended by something like 209 of the state capital's best society. Ladies were informed in the invitetion that calico dresses would be correct form, and the men were expected to come in similar simple attire. Many society devotees ap- peared a la Maud Muller, but the majority came in the usual swell costume. The gov- ernor wore a $4 suit, and personally super- intended everything.” The refreshments in- cluded 500 watermelons. ia ple cece “That hailstorm was the first calamity of the kind we have had for severai—" of the plains. In everything but military discipline he is a proved soldier through his mode of life. He is hardy, enduring, | “A calamity? My dear sir, you are talk- ing to a glazier—who hates English spar- rows.”—Chicago Tribune. THE BATHING SEASON AT ‘Terrible experience of the Jenkins farity whilst unfortunately, tillion, who | i Tecentiy been in charge of @ 7, somewhat deaf and — SCARBOROUGH “HAS COMMENCED. absent