Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 28, 1901, Page 6

a > SS 90-00-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0 0-0:0-0-0:0-0-0-0-0-00-0 | | CTCT SCT SEN Rickerby’s ’s Folly 3 : GALLON hy By TOM 5000000000000 0-00. CHAPTER VIL—~ Continued.) A pretty plot, upon my word,” was eathwood’s comment, as he nodded to tr. Reeks over his folded arms, “So u see, knowing only part of the sto! ou theught you would trade on your knowledge of the men; perhaps you thought you'd frignten something out fme—ens Now—do I look Itke a man to be frightened casily?” No; I should say not," said Mr. eeks, meekly. And I should say not,” retorted the ether. “Now, I don’t mind telling you that, in spite of this lamentable break- ¢éowu on your part, and in spite of iry g able to see what a poor creature i think there is money in this for you after all—perhaps more than trere would have been if you had mere- ly succeeded in securing the reward. Only, I warn you: if you are of use to me, I'll serve you well. But I must have the whole truth out of you.”, Mr. Reeks began to protest, almost with violence, how very sincere he was by nature, and how greatly he regretted that he should ever have lapsed, even for a moment, from the strict path of rectitude; but Nugent Leathwood cut him, short. “There—enough of that. In the first place I want to know under exactly what circumstances this lodger of yours came to you; who saw him—who knew him—whom he met. Now, then, begin at the beginning.” “He came to me first ,on the recom~ frendation of his servant, who knew Mme slightly—What's the matter?” Nugent Leathwood had turned ab- ruptly, and was staring at the little man with wide eyes. “His what? ‘“His servant,” repeated Mr. Reeks. “They came together, and took the rooms together; on the night that you tell me he was killed in the street, Mr. Rickerby went out with his servan:— and neither of them ever came back again.” “Good heavens!"" The man who had been sitting on the table got down and stood perfectly still in the middle of the floor for a few moments, staring before hir and muttering *o himself. “I nev- er thought of that: I never dreamed that Gilbert Rickerby, coming here in secret, landing in England almost un- known to anyone, should have anyone with him! What the dickens does it mean? Gilbert Rickerby dead; Gilbert Rickerby advertised for, far and wide; yet this confidential servant, who actu~- ally went out with him, on the night he came here, says nothing, does nothing, makes no stir in any way. What have I done? This man, whose existence I never suspected—this servant, may be watching and waiting; laying traps for me.” He turned swiftly to Reeks, who was staring in a bewildered fashion at him. “Youw say you have seen noth- ing of the servant since? Be careful what you say!" “From the moment they left the thouse together, on that night when they were coming to you—” “How do you know they were coming to me?” asked the other, quickly. Mr. Reeks discovered that it wanted more courage than he was at that mo- ment possessed of. But, after a sleep- less night, and the discovery that the morning brought nothing better than two trate tradesmen, who told him pret- ty roundly what they thought of him, } he determined, in desperation, to see what could be done; in the event of fallure to personate Gilbert Rickerby | he felt that there might be some pros- pect of trading uron his knowledge of the diary and the papers, and screwing gome money out of someone. Waiting until nighfall, he made himself as re- spectable as a limited wardrobe would permit and set off for St. John’s Wood. Now, there are many ways of getting from Camden Town to St. John’s Wood. 4f one has leisure, and the weather be fine, it is possible to walk, and to note, es one walks, of the change of each neighborhood as it merges itself into the next; or there are omnibuses which | strike a path into the heart of the mys- terious regio! and seem to lose them- selves and their passergers in ft. Or there are cabs, which may be had for the hailing, at street corners, and which will deliver one, as it were, thin an Inch of the spot one desires to reach. Mr. Reeks, knowing well the depth of his pocket, and@ having pri €@ reasons of his own, decided to walk. - But, as has been said, Mr. not a courageous being; and, moreover, he had before him a difficult task. Therefore, with a laudable desire to keep up the small measure of couraze he possessed, he stepped into the first cages house he saw and partook of cer- ain strong liquors. Indeed, after that he may be said to have punctuated his erratic path with such pauses; so that, by the time he had arrived at the gate of Rickerby’s Folly, he was preparerd to swear positively, not only that he was the real Gilbert Rickerby, but that he was anyone else who might be sug- gested to him at the moment. Cornelius admitted him; Cornelius saw him go swaying unsteadily up the garden towards the house; Cornelius ushered him into the room wherein Nu- gent Leathwood sat, with the simple announcement that here was a gentle- man to see him. Leathwood, starting up from his chair, confronted this strange-looking little creature, with a hat cocked jaunt- iyl over one watery ey, and demanded to krow what he wanted. Reeks was ex- “One ‘unnerd pounds ‘ward! claimed the apparition, sleepily. Mr. Gilbert Rickerby!” “Tm CHAPTER VU. A Dend Man’s Money. However startling it may have been to Nugent Leathwood to have this man standing before him and proclaiming himself by that name, which already seemed to haunt him night and day, he soon recovered from the shock; saw that whatever this man was or what- ever he might know, he was, at the best, a weak little creature, half-stu- pefied with drink and scarcely knowing at the moment who he was or what he said. However, precautions had to be taken; Leathwod came slowly toward the swaying tigure, and stood before it, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and stared at him leisurely. “So you are Gilbert Rickerby, are you?” he asked, quietly. ‘Welcome, Mr. Gilbert Rickerby—back from the grave! Do you understand me?—back from the grave, I say!” “What—what d’you mean?” stain- ‘merered Mr. Reeks, pattly-sobered by the manner of the other and by the words. “I mean that Gilbert Rickerby is dead —died nearly a week ago; that he lies in his grave and is almost forgotten by this time. Where have you been wan- dering, you madman, not to know that?” Mr. Reeks opened his mouth as if to say something, shut it again hurriedly, and turned and made for the door. But before he reached it, however, the hand of Nugent Leathwood fell upon his shoulder and twisted him round, and the eyes of Nugent Leathwood were looking into his qualing ones. “Don’t run -away,” said the quiet voice. “There is some game on here which I do not understand. Come, now, who put you on to this game, and who are you, really? You are not Gilbert Rickerby; of that I am certain. But you know something about him. Why, don’t you know that Gilbert Rickerby was a young man of twenty-six Mr. Reeks nodded feebly. that, I should think,” he said. “Oh! so you know him, do you? This grews interesting. Come, sit down, my friend, and let us hear what you have te say for yourself.” He pushed the reluctant Mr. Reeks into a chair, and seated himself on the edge of the table close beside nim. ‘Now, let me hear what you have to say about this Gil- bert Rickerby. George Reeks saw, only too plainly, that he was in a remarkabfy tight place; even in his muddled state, at the moment he was quite capablec of recog- nizing that fact. Moreover, this calm man, with the quiet voice and the dark hair, had about him a certain sense of power that was not to be denied. There- fore, with some attempt to treat the matter a3 a mere joke, and with many labored apologies for the mistake he had made, the little man made a full confession—pointing out how he had been tempted by some faint hope of the reward which was offered. Nugent Leathwood listened with the closest at- tention—asking a “question now and then, occasionaliy breaking in with a short, Gry laugh. At the end of the re- cital the little man sat cowering in his chair, fully sobered, and wondering, dimly, what was going to happen . “He left it in writing; I nave found papers in whicn he sets out clearly what he is going to do—mentions a girl, among other things.” “A girl? Yes, I suppose he would mention the girl,” said Lgathwood, troughtfull, “Look here; I must have those papers; I must know exactly what he has written. Where are they now?” “At my house,” replied Reeks. myone seen them, other than “About “Only Mrs. Reeks—my wife.” “Reek: He seeme’ to ponder over the name for a moment, as though it woke some train of thought in his mind. ‘“Well—is your wife safe? I mean,” he corrected hims: hurriedly, “is she likely to talk about matters which do not concern herself? Does she understand the necessity for being si- lent sometimes, if she is well paid for being silent?” Mr. Reeks nodded, .solemnly. “It would be difficult to find anyone who could bottle herself up more completely than Mrs. Reeks, when necessary,” he said, proudly. “Good. By the way, your name seems r to me somehow. What is it, “Recks—George Reeks,” replied the little man, glad to be able to proclaim himself under his true colors. “George Reeks!”. Nugent Leathwood turned the name over and over in his mind for a moment, then, suddenly, started and clapped a hand to his head. “By Jove! the man who went with me to the funeral; the man who picked up” He did not finish the sentence, but, after a moment’s further thought, he sprang fiercely upon the astonished Mr. Reeks and gripped him by the col- | lar. “You fiend!” he breathed. “What trick are you playing upon me? You come here, proclaiming that you are Gilbert Rickerby; you tell me a yarn about a servant of the dead man whom no one has seen since his master’s death; now you say that your name is the same as that of a stranger I met at the hospital, and who followed—fol- lowed Gilbert Rickerby to the grave. In Heaven's name, who are you--and what do you know?” “I—I assure you,” stuttered Mr. Recks, in an agony of fear, “that I was —was — bap —tized George — surname Reeks—at—the P—p-—parish C—c— ervrech—” “There, that'll do,” cried Leathwood, fiercely, shaking him into siience. “I believe you're too great a fool to know how to play such a trick. But there’s something I don’t understand; and I mean to get at the bottom of it. Now, tell me: what sort of man was this ser vant” At all costs, he must be found. ‘What manner of man was he?” | Rickerby was dead; “Well,” began Mr. Reeks, thought- fully studying the other; “I should say he was a man of about your height —dark, quick manner with him, clean- shaven.” Now, in the dreadful hurry of that one tragic struggle, on the night when the unfortunate servant met his death at the hands of Leathwood, the latter had got but a dim idea of what his vic- tim was like. True, he still had before him, and would have until his death, Se ee Seen Rennes ae the picture of the surprised, pleading, distorted face; but it had been s0 hor- rible that, after the first moment, he had averted his own from it; and, in removing the body, had been careful to cover that ugly thing. So that it is not surprising that he should not have rec- ognized the careless description given of the man by Reeke—a description which might, moreover, apply equally well to a hundred men one meets on the street every day. He shook his head in perplexity. “No, that’s not the man at all. But I think I see daylight on this matter, and it means black midnight to me, ff I'm not careful,” “he .added,. under. his breath. “All that I know is that a man, giving your: namie, picked. up— well, picked up Gilbert Rickerby in the street, and took him to the hospital; followed him to the grave with me. 1 asked his name, and he said ‘George Reeks.’ A tall, fair man, with a tanned skin, as though he’d been abroad a lot— fair mustache—and a déep scar right across his cheek bone; not a disfigur- ing scar, but enough to be noticeable.” While he spoke Mr. George Reeks had been drawing himself more and more upright; had the other man looked at him, he would have observed that the litte man was clutching each side of the seat of his chair with his hands, while his eyes seemed almost to be Starting out of his head. Fortunately. for him, however, Nugent Leathwood did not look around; still keeping his eyes on the floor, he asked, quickly: “Do you know any such man that?” Preperly, Mr. George Reeks ought at once to have said “Yes.” But he saw himself in serious difficulties if he did. He had heard already that Gilbert that this man now talking to him had seen him die, and had followed him to the grave. Yet he knew, with absolute certainty, that the description given of the man who had declared he was George Reeks was 4 very accurate description of Gilbert Rickerby. And that man had followed some other Gilbert Rickerby to the grave! Poor George Reeks felt his brain recling; for the moment he was roc at all certain who he was or where he was or what was happening; or how many Gilbert Rickerby’s there were, and hew many of them were alive and how many dead. He decided to get out of the tangle as easily as possible. “No—not—not exactly,” he replied. “But it’s certainly not the servant—not a bit like him.” “Well, it’s a puzzle, that’s all it is,” said the other. After a few moments’ thought, he turned abruptly to Reeks, and spoke with a frankness he could assume easily enough when he liked: “Forgive me,” he said—‘I forgot my- self just now; but 1 shall hope to make amends in the future. As a matter of fact, I am placed in a great difficulty— and ‘I think that you are the man to help me. Now, I would not ask anyone to help me without an adequate pay- ment; you shall not suffer on that ac- count.” “You are very good—”’ began Mr. Reeks, mildly. “You have certain papers belonging to the late Gilbert Rickerby. As his cousin, and the next-of-kin as regards the estates, I could claim these papers; but that would be a hard and ungentle- manly thing to do—and I am dealing with a gentleman.” He bowed, with a flourish of the arm, towards Reeks. “Thank you; you are extremely good,” said Mr. Reeks, again. “Not at all. In a word, I desire. to behave handsomely. I know that you } will net talk about matters which do}; not, after all, concern you; and I am, therefore, the more disposed to deal generously with you. I will buy those papers from you; more than that, I will pay for them with a sum ef money which was found at the hospital on the person of the unfortunate Gilbert Rick- erby--a sum of £500.” Now, this was, of course, absolutely nutrue; the sum of money in question had been found in notes on the person of poor James Holden, whom he had murdered. “Really, this is very gasped George Reeks. “Not ot all. I desire merely to do what is right: I pay for cectain papers belonging to a dead man, with money left behind in my hands by that dead man; that is all.” He might have add- ed that he had the superstitious fear of the murderer, of handling money taken from the dead; more than a supersti- tious fear—a fear that it might lead, in some way, to his undoing. “Five hundred pounds! You shall have every paper he left—every mortal | thing that was his,” ejaculated Mr. Reeks. “And as for silence—never a word, I swear to you. Five hundred pounds!” “Well, that’s settled,” said Leath-j wood, in a cheerful tone. ‘Now, bar- gain for bargain; when the papers are | placed in my hands you shall have the money. Will that do?” “Nothing could be more fair,” cried Mr. Reeks.: Indeed, his one desire, at that time, was to get rid of the whole bewildering business, quite apart from the fact of making anything out of it. “Very good. For the present, we will say good-bye. Just let me have your address; that is it—write it down here.””. He motioned towards the writ- ing materia!s, which stood on the table. Then, as Mr. Reeks was writing, he bent down, to say, in a lower tone: “You spoke about a girl, who was men- tioned by the late Gilbert Rickerby in certain papers. Let m> assure you that the girl is well—that she is here—and that she is under careful guardian- ship.” “I’m glad to know that,” replied George Reeks, carefully blotting the slip of paper and handing it to Leath- wood. “That’s the address. Shall I bring up the papers to-morrow?” “Tf you will be so good,” replied Nu- gent; eetly. ‘“Good-night; I must leave you to find your own way to the gate; I'll take you to the door and show you where it is.” So Mr. George Reeks was conducted to the door, his hand cordially shaken, and himself shut out in the darkness, Nugent Leathwogd saying, just before closing the door: “You will find the gate straight in front of you at the end of the path.” But Mr. George Reeks, standing alone in the darkness, and with the memory of the strange happenings of the night as generous!” full upon him, did not feel disposed to seek that gate at once; or, indeed, to be in any great hurry to return home. Instead, he wanted to stand there, un- der the stars and the night sky, and drink fn, in the silence, the full beauty of the prospect which had suddenly opened before him. “Five hundred pounds! No more beating of brokers’ men; no more bul- lying from tradesmen! I'll open an office—a respectable office, in a respect- able neighborhood; I'll launch out on new schemes; I'll do commission work that I've never attempted before. Gil- bert Rickerby, whether you're alive or dead, I’m glad you came to lodge at No. 2, Little Pond street. If I'd. got the money in my pocket I'd have a cab home!” But, whatever he intended to do, he was in no hurry about it. Still medi- tating over that extraordinary fortune which had:come to him so unexpected- ay, he resolved to take a turn around the house; and he noticed in doing so that, while one side had lighted win- dows dotted all over it, the other, which seemed to be a separate house, was dark and apparently uninhabited. Wan- dering on a little farther, still gazing up at those darkened windows, Mr. Reeks lost his way completely, missed the gate, and made the complete circle of the two houses without finding it. Standing still, he remonstrated with himself for his carelessness. “Yow were drunk when you came in, George Reeks—you know you were; but you've gone through a great deal too much sinee then to be drunk now. It will never deo to wake up that nice young man again and ask the way out; I must go round the wall and find it. It ought to be directly in front of the lighted house; and I appear, at che present moment, to be directly behind the dark one,’ However, I have to get home te Mrs. R—; so here goes!” He had gone but a few steps when he thought he saw in front of him, among th- heavy shadows thrown by the trees, a figure. Somewhat Startled at first, Mr. Reeks drew back agains the wall; and then, laughing at his own fears, ventured boldly out and called to the figure. “I beg you pardon, but I'm lost. I can’t find the gate. If you wili be ‘so kind at to—” His voice trailed off, and failed him altogether; for the figure—scarcely a dozen yards from him—had not moved. Very timidly, the little man ventured nearer, and began his appeal afresh. “T say; could you show me—” He had not time to finish the sen- tence; the figure moved suddenly, and without warning, and leaped upon him —a tall figure, and evidently possessing cousiderable strength. Then a hand gripped him, and another hand closed firmly over his mouth; looking. up, he saw, in the dim light, a fair man, with a fair mustache and a tanned skin, and with a deep scar across one cheek bone. Trembling in deadly fear, he waited for the man to speak. “Do you know me?” asked the man, sternly. “Don't try to speak, because I shan’t let you. If you know me, nod your head.” Mr. Reeks nodded, though with con- siderable difficulty. “I see yoi do. I am Gilbert Ricker- by. If I let you free, will you swear to me not to attempt to raise the alarm— will you swear that you will do as I tell yeu? Remember, I have a dozen times your strength, and could catch you and silence you before you had gone a yard. Nod again.” Mr. Reeks nodded with what empha- sis was possible under the circum- stances, and the next moment his mouth was uncovered. “He—he told me you were dead!” he stammered, pointing feebly toward the lighted house, and evidently, not quite certain in his own mind as to whether Gitbert Rickerby was really dead or not. “Yes; he thinks I am,” replied the other, bitterly. “But what were you doing there—in that house?” Once again George Reeks felt that there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast of the business; haltingly, and with many excuses for himself, he told his tale—told, last of all, of the promised 500 which was to come to him so easily. “I thought that you were dead, Mr. Rickerby, and that it would not matter,” he pleaded. “I know—I know; and I believe you,” replied Gilbert. But he must not have those papers; he shall not. Tell me, did he say anything about a young girl —a young lady?” “Said she was there—and in safe keeping,” repl Reeks. “In safe keeping! Good heavens— and he dares to say it! Mr. Reeks, I am hiding—I am living on false pre- tenses; I have no name—nothing that I can cali my own. But, will you help | me?” Then the head of poor Mr. Reeks was whirling round again, or seemed to be; but he answered, steadily, though with something of a gulp at the thought of his lost fortune, “I will; I don’t want his money, or anyone’s. What is the matter?” “You shall see for yourself,” said Gil- bert, gripping his arm. “I believe you have a heart; you must have; any man but a black-hearted villain would help a poor wretch, bowed down under such misery and grief as mine. Come, you shall know for yourself what I want!” Utterly bewildered and feeling much inclined to shriek out, and wishing most devoutly that he had never seen or heard of Gilbert Rickerby, Mr. Reeks suffered himself to be drawn towards the dark house, at which he had gazed se curiously but a few moments before. CHAPTER VIII. The World of Dreams. Still, with that powerful grip upon his arm, Mr. George Reeks was drawn along towards the dark house, quaking inwardly, yet filled, too, with a very lively curiosity as to what was going to happen. At the moment he had no thought of the £500 which had slipped through his fingers—or, it would be more proper to say, had never touched his fingers at all; he merely had a dim wish in his mind that Mrs. Reeks might turn up unexpectedly and come to his assistance; the matter was really too much for him. Gilbert Rickerby opened a door—the door by which he had entered on that first night of his creeping back to hts old home—and led the frightened little man down a dark passage; opened an- other door and drew him into a lighted room, Carefully closing the last door, he pointed to a seat, and Mr. Reeks dropped obediently into it. “So you came to-night to personate me, did you?” asked Gilbert, looking at him, smiling. “Not very much allke, are we?” “It was a liberty, I confess, sir.” re plie@ Mr. Reeks, humbly. “But I saw you advertised for—with quite a hand- some award attached—and I thought there might be something to come my way. You see, sir, I couldn't maxe out what had become of you or of your ser- vant.” Mr. Reeks was very apologetic at this point, and, in his modesty and his de- sire that it should be fully understood why he had taken such a liberty, had quite lost sight of the larger interest which faced him. “Well—you've found me--and I have found my servant; you shall hear more of that presently, As I have hinted to you, Mr. Reeks, I am placed in the strangest position ever a man occupied yet—and I want you to help me. You need not tremble, or look about you; we shall not be discovered here. This heuse has an evil reputation, Mr. Reeks; and no one will come near it in # Werry. This side of Rickerby's Polly is haunted. So far from comforting the unfortun- ate little man, this intelligence seemed to throw him Into greater terror even than before; he clutched his chair and glanced, with starting eyes, on all sides of him; caught a glimpse of the strong, robust figure of Gilbert Rickerby, and felt vaguely comforted. But he gave vent to something of his terror and be- wilderment, nevertheless. “Mr. Rickerby—tor I think you must be Mr. Rickerby: you look so very sol- id—I am a peaceable and peace-loving men. But I have to-night sot mixed up in a matter which terrifies me ~1d which has thrown me off my mental balance, as it were. In the first place, I go into one side of this extraordinary house—under false pretenses, I admit— and, after being shaken almost out of my wits, I am offered a sum of £500 to deliver up certain papers which do not belong to me, but to a man declared to be dead. I make a bargain to do so; I come out of the house, only to be con- fronted by that very man, and I am brought by him into the other half of this infernal—the word is strong, sir; but, under the circumstances, it is just- ifled—this infernal house, and I am calmly informed that itis haunted. If you should happen to have a little something reviving, sir, I shouid be grateful for a nip. Gilbert Rickerby smilingly produced a flask and handed it to Mr. Reeks; it fairly clattered against his teeth as he took a long pull at it. But it brought color into his cheeks and appeared to warm him. (To Be Continued.) The Prey of the Fog Fiend. ‘The fog fiend has come to London un- unusually early this year, and has been busy painting the town, not red, but drab. He cares neither for curses nor anti-smoke committees, and he plays quaint and bewildering tricks in the streets. Last night, for instance, after sickening and half-suffocating his vic- tims during the day, deepening his tones as black as cvening came on, he suddenly wiped off the paint in one part of London and allowed people to see and breathe ciearly for an hour, but only to deepen their disappointment with another jose of gloom. The effect of this trick was very singular; the fog suddenly rolled up like a curtain, and for a short time, so a correspondent tells us, stars were actually visible. There are no words equal to the pres- ent occasion, so we must, perforce, be patient.—Westminster Gazette. A Matrimonial Note. A woman of education and refine- ment announced in yesterday’s news- papers, quite as a matter of course, that she was engaged to a certain man, whose name she gave, and that she would marry him as soon as she was divorced from her husband. And, later in the day, her “fiance” confirmed the announcement. From an indissoluble bond to a civil } contract to a loose agreement at the pleasure of the parties concerned, the descent of the “honorable estate of matrimony” seems to be swift and un- halting. It is strange that the revolu- tionary change in the institution lying, or supposed to lie, at the very founda- tion of the social structure, should cause so little serious agitation and alarm.—New York World A Cuban Bogy. Admission of Cuba into the Union would mean not only that the nation was to govern Cuba, but also that Cuba wag to take part in governing the na- tion. It would mean that Cuba would have a, voice in making laws for New York and New England, and the West and South; not only a voice, but, per- haps, in some close division, a deciding voice, so that, in the gravest affairs, thizs whole nation might be governed, and its destiny be decided by senators and representatives from Cuba. That, we are convinced, is something the peo- ple of the United States will never per- mit and will never make possible.—New York Tribun>. London on Wheels. An idea of the enormous passenger traffic of London will be obtained from the following figures: Thirty-eight omnibus routes converge at Charing Cross, About 700 omnibuses pass there every hour, carrying 9,000 passengers. At Hyde Park corner there are twenty omnibus routes, 290 ominbusses per hour, with an hourly passenger aver- ege of over 5,900. At High street, Ken- sington, there are four omnibus routes, with 112 omnibuses and 1,500 passen- gers per hour. At Picadiily Circus there are twenty-six routes, 445 omnibuses and 8,500 passengers, waile along the Strand there are twenty-six routes, 445 omnibuses and 6,000 passengers per hour.—Tattler. The Kaiser's Evening at Home., Emperor William is very fond of hearing books read aloud in his draw- ing room, ‘at home after dinner, when he has a quiet evening. While one of the gentlemen or ladies-in-waiting reads, his majesty sits at a table and sketches or draws designs. Sometimes the kaiserin takes up the book herself. Several of the emperor's sketches have been sold in Berlin and elsewhere at Charity bazars. The kaiserin’s health has much improved lately. Her majes- ty is able to drive outdoors and to en- tertain her guests. Those who have seen her and spoken with her during the last fortnight found her looking well and in good spirits. Scrious Results, The remark recently made by a French clerk when he was discharged by his employer is quoted to make doc- tors feel happy: “This dismissal will result in the death of many people,” said the young man. “What do ysu mean?” asked the mer- chant. “Do you mein to threaten me?” ‘No; not at all,” replied the clerk. only mean to say that I now Intend to study medicine."—New York Times. SHOULDNOT COME IN. FIGURES FROM BOARD OF IMMIGRA- TION COMMISSIONERS. Classes of Immigrants Who Are Us- desirable from American Standpoints of Citizenship—Paaper Element from Southern Italy Left ia Seaboard €lties. The report of the board of immigra- tion commissioners at New York con- tains figures and statistics that furnish food for serious reflection on the much- vexed problem of restricting the flow of certain classes of fore{gners to this country. The total immigration for the fiscal year 1900-1901 was 383,931, as against 341,712 for the year previous, an increase of 47,219. The total num- ber of immigrants from southern Italy, for 1900-1901 was 111,298, as against 83,329 for the preceding fiscal year. From northern Italy there were 20,360 immigrants this year as against 16,690 last year, an increase of 3,670. The commissioners’ report will show that the southern Italians brought with them. this year $964,979, a per capita rate of only $8.67, while the northern Italians brought $478,969, a per capita rate of $23.62, standing well up among the highest class of immigrants. As to the influx from other countries the fig- ures are also interesting. The second highest on the list to the Italians are the Hebrews, who numbered 43,237, a decrease of 1,283 from the preceding year. They were also short of funds, having vrought $360,940, a per capita rate of $8.58, which is 9 cents less than that of the southern Italians and the lowest on the entire list. Polish im- migrants numbered 37,636, an increase of 801. They brought $373,559, or $9.93 per capita. The Lithuanians were 8,192 in number and had a per capita rate of $8.65, the Portuguese were 3,393 strong, with a $9.61 rate, and the Ru- thenians 5,032, with a $9.64 rate to their credit. The per capita rate of all oth- ers was above $10. The German immi- gration amounted to 29,660, an increase of 6,298. Their per capita rate was $31.14, the third highest on the list, the first being held by the French, at a $39.57 rate, with a small immigra- tion of 3,771, while the English, Scotch and Welsh at $32.64 were third highest. with a total immigration of 6,433 per- sons. Ireland sent over this year 19,- 958 immigrants, which was 5,247 less than landed during 1899-1900. They brought $340,822, or $17.16 per capita cate. The Scandinavians increased 1,334 over last year, their total being 24,161, with a per capita ratio of $16.15. The Slovaks numbered 26,931, an in- crease of 1,539. They had a $12.31 rate. The Magyars were 12,344, with 991 in- crease and a $10.96 rate. The Croa- tian and Dalmatian races were repre- sented by 12,348 immigrants, with 315.54 as a per capita; the Dutch and Flemish had 3,065, with a high ratio of $26.30, while the Spanish, with 513. an increase of 204, had a still higher per capita of $30.28. The Armenians, Syrians and Bohemians furnished 11,- 721, the Finnish 8,359, the Greeks 5,651 and all other nationalities 1,627. Their per capita rates ranged from $15 to $22. As already stated, the increase in im- migration for the fiscal year 1900-1901 was 47,219, and of this number 28,969, or 61 per cent, were natives of south, {taly. One of the railroad officials of the immigration bureau, in New York, 2ommenting on this feature, said: “The southern Italians, who so largely swelled the tide of immigration this year constitute an undesirable class for naturalization and citizenship. Past experience bears out this statement, and, as evidence of the fact that there is no racial prejudice in the assertion, it is only necessary to ask the opinion of 1 north Italian on the pauper element of southern Italy. Many of them have told me how utterly worthless these persons are at home. and statistics show how useless they are from a pro- gressive standpoint in this country. They represent the lazy and indolent gutcasts of southern Europe, are abso- tutely thriftless and will work only when dire necessity compels it. They bring just enough money with them to this country to comply with the immi- zration laws, and, as they cannot af- ford to buy railroad or steamboat: tickets to sections of the country where there is a demand for their labor, they. linger in the large cities of the East antil their meager fund is exhausted, and then, for the most part, become burdens on the municipalities in which they are stranded. This, of course, will apply to some classes of other na- tionalities, and it seems that the time has arrived for more stringent immi- gration laws, restricting the wholesale influx of objectionable classes of for- signers to this country.”—New York Sun. Charity’s Choice, “Mummy,’ said a small girl—“mum~ my, dear, I do wish I might give some money for poor children’s dinners” ‘So you may, darling.” “But, mum- my, I haven't any money.” “Well, darling, if you like to go without sugar I will give you the money in- stead, and then you will have some.” The smal? child considered solemnly for a moment and then said: “Must it be sugar, mummy?” “Why, no, darling, { don’t much mind. What would you like to do without?” “How would Soap do, mummy, then?” exclaimed the small maiden in MER delphia Ledger. Cholly—“I think I may change my mind.” Miss Marbleheart (earnest- ly)—“I would if I were you.”—Judge. Bowing to circumstances is apt to be forced politeness. Many a man’s, head is full of emptt- ness, _ r ‘ $ “4 paecennenes ee Riese “ 4 aI 4 { j i 4 2 \ G 1 « | ——r Oe i