Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 2, 1902, Page 2

oe ee | - degs and they don’t like you. Dogs are | “her a trifie reckless. a She By Fred M. White CHAPTER XXVIII (Continued.) “£ guess I don’t recollect the fright,” @hris drawled. ‘And if there was any @eight, I calculate it was on the other ide. And how are you this morning? Nou look as if you had been in the ‘wars. Got some trouble with your throat, or what?” “& slight operation,” Henson said, @frily. “I have been speaking too much fa public lately, and a little something asd to be removed. I am much better.” The ready lie tripped off his tongue. Curis smiled slightly. “De you know, you remind me very @nuch of somebody,” he went on. “and yet, I don’t know why, because you are @9 different. Lord Littimer tells me you are an American.” “The Stars and Stripes,” Chris ‘leughed. “I guess our nation is the first on earth. Now, if you happen to now anything about Boston—” “{ never was in Boston in my life,” @fenson replied, hastily. “Have you @een in England very long?” Chris replied that she was enjoying fEngiand for the first time. But she was not there to answer questions, her ele was to ask them. But she was dealing with a past-master in the art @€ gieaning information, and Henson was getting on her nerves. She gave & €etle cry of pleasure as a magnificent g@pecimen of a bloodhound came trotting Gown the terrace and paused in friendly | @shion before her. “What a lovely dog!” she exclaimed. “Bo you like dogs, Mr. Henson?” Be looked up, beamingly, into his | Gace as she spoke; she saw the heavy | features darken and the eyes grow e@mall with anger. “[ foathe them and they loathe me,” @fenson growled. “Look at him!” | He pointed to the dog, who showed | fale ¢eeth with an angry growl. And! yet the great, sleek head lay against | he girl's knee in perfect confidence. | @lenson looked on uneasily and backed @ little way. The dog marked his every movement, “See how the brute shows his teeth at me,” he said. “Please send him away, @iias Lee. I am certain he is getting weedy for a spring.” Henson's face was white and hot and) «wet. His lips trembled. He was horri- | @ly afraid. Chris patted the silky head ead dismissed the dog with a curt com- geand. He went off instantly, with a wistful, backward look in his eye. “We are going to be great friends, @hat doggie and I,” Chris said, gaily. “and I don’t like you any the better, Mir. Henson, because you don’t like} @ar better judges of character than you @magine. Dr. Bell says—” “What Dr. Bell?” Henson demanded, owtttly. Chris had paused just in time; per aps her successful disguise had made “pr. Hatherly Bell,” she said. Ete ‘esed to be a famous man before he fell {sto disgrace over something or anoth- ec. I heard him lecture on the animal | @nstinct in Boston, once, and he said— | fut, as you don’t care for dogs, it don’t | qmatter what he said.” “Do you happen to know anything bout him?” Henson asked. “Very little. I never met him, if that | (« what you mean. But I heard that he fad done something particularly dis- graceful. Why do you ask?” “Wothing. more than a mere coinci- Gence," Henson replied. “It is just a| ttle strange that your should mention | eis name here, especially after what fmppened last night. I suppose that, efng an American, you fell in love with he Rembrandt: It was you who sug- | qgested securing it in its place, and then} prevented my little jest from being car- wied out. Of course, you have heard ¢hat the print was stolen once?” “The knowledge is as general as the e@ptriting away of the Gainsborough ‘Duchess.’” “Quite so. Well, the man who stole the Rembrandt was Dr. Hatherly Bell. He stole it so that he might pay a gam- + biting debt, ani it was subsequently Gound {n his luggage before he could ass it on to the purchaser. I am glad you mentioned it, because the name of! ‘Bell ts not exactly a favorie at the cas- te.” «{ am much obliged to you,” said @bhris, gravely. “Was Dr. Bell a favor- Me once “Oh, immense. He had great influence | ever Lord Littimer. He—but here comes | (Littimer in one of his moods. He ap- to be angry about something.” Littimer strode up, with a frown on its face, and a telegram in his hand. | @enson assumed to be sympathetic. | “f hope it is nothing serious?” he} murmured. | “erious!” Littimer cried. ‘The acme ef audacity—yes. The telegram has just come. ‘Must see you to-night on im- portant business affecting the past. @ball hope to be with you some time} efter dinner!’” “and who is the audacious aspirant €o an interview?” Chris asked, demure- “4 man I expect you never heard of,” eid Littimer, “but who is quite famil- ax to Henson, here. I am alluding to @hat scoundrel, Hatherly Bell!” “Good Heavens!” Henson burst out. *{—I mean, what colossal impudence!” | CHAPTER XXIX. | Whe Man With the Thumb Again. ‘Chris gave Henson one swift, search- {mg glance before her eyes dropped de- murely to the ground. Lord Littimer eppeared to be taking no heed of any- &@hing but his own annoyance. But, quick as Chris had been, Henson was quicker. He was smiling the slow, sad e@mitle of the man who turns the other @heek because it is his duty to do so. “And when does Dr. Bell arrive?” he paked. Ha won't arrive at all” Littimer rimson Hlin said, irritably. “Do you suppose I am going to allow that scoundrel under my roof again? The amazing impudence of the fellow is beyond everything. He will probably reach the Moreton Sta- tion by the 10 o’clock train. The drive will take an hour, if I choose to permit the drive, which I don’t. I'll send a groom to meet the train with a letter. When Bell has read that letter he will not come here.” “J don’t think I should do that,” Hen- son said, respectfully. “Indeed! You are really a clever fel- low. And what would you do?” “I should suffer Bell to come. As a Christian I should deem it my duty to do so. It pains me to say so, but I am afraid that I cannot contravert your suggestion that Bell is a scoundrel. It grieves me to prove any man that. And in the present instance the proofs were overpowering. But there is always @ chance—a chance that we hgve mis- judged a man on faise evidence.” “False evidence! Why, the Rem- brandt was actually found in Bell’s portmanteau.” “Dear friend, I know it,” Henson said, with the same slow, forgiving smile. “But there have been cases of black treachery, dark conspiracies that one abhors. And Bell might have made some stupendous discovery regarding his character. I should see him, my lord; oh, yes, I should most undoubted- ly see him.” “And so should I,” swiftly. Littimer smiled, with all traces of his ill-temper gone. He seemed to be con- templating Henson with his head on one side, as if to fathom that gentle- man’s intentions. There was just the Chris put in, | suspicion of contempt in his glance. “In the presence of so much good- ness and beauty, I feel quite lost,” he said. ‘Very well, Henson, I’ll see Bell. I may find the interview diverting.” Henson strolled away, with a sigh of gentle pleasure. Once out of sight, he tlew to the library, where he scribbled a couple of telegrams. They were care- fully worded, and related to some apoc- ryphal parcel required without delay, and calculated to convey nothing to the lay mind. A servant was dis- patched to the village with them, Hen- son would have been pleased had he known that the fascinating little Amer- ican had waylaid his messenger and read his telegrams, under the plea of verifying one of the addresses. A mo- ment or two later and those addresses were carefully noted down in a pocket- book. It was past 5 before Chris found her- self with a little time on her hands again. Littimer had kept her pretty busy all the afternoon, party because there was much to do, but partly from the pleasure that he derived from his secretary’s society. He was more free with her than he had been with any of her sex for years. It was satisfactory, | too, to learn that Littimer regarded Henson as a smug and oily hypocrite, and that the latter was only going to be” left Littimer Castle to spite the owner’s other relations. “Now you run into the garden and get a blow,” Littimer said, at length. “T am telling you a lot too much, Iam | afraid you are a most insinuating young person.” Chris ran into the garden gaily. De- spite the crushing burden on her shoul- ders, she felt an elation and a flow of spirits that she had not been conscious of for years. The invigorating air of the place seemed to have got into her veins, the cruel depression of the House of the Silent Sorrow was passing away. Again she had youth and hope on her side, and everything was falling out beautifully. It was a pleasanter world than Chris had anticipated. She went along more quietly after a time. There was a tiny arbour on a terrace overlooking the sea to which Chris had taken a particular fancy. She picked her way daintily along the grass paths between the roses until she suddenly emerged upon the terrace. She had popped out of the roses as swiftly as a squirrel, peeps from a tree. Somebody was in the arbor, two peo- ple, talking earnestly. One man stood up, with his back to Chris, one hand gripping the outside ragged bark of the arbor frame with a peculiarly nervous, restless force. Chris could see the hand turned back distinctly. A piece of bark was being crumbled under a strong thumb. Such a thumb! Chris had seen nothing like it before. It was as if at some time it had been smashed flat with a hammer, a broad, strong,, cruel-looking thumb, flat and sinister-looking as the head of a snake. In the center, ‘ike a pink pearl dropped in a filthy gutter, was one tiny, per- fectly-formed nail. The owner of the thumb stepped back the better to give way to a fit of hoarse laughter. He turned slightly aside, and his eyes met those of Chris. They were small eyes, set in a coarse, brutal face, the face of a criminal, Chris thought, if she were a judge of such matters. It came quite a shock to see that the stranger was in clerical garb. “J—I beg your pardon,” Chris stam- mered. “But I—” Henson emerged from the arbor. For once in a way he appeared confused; there was a flush on his face that told of annoyance ill-suppressed. “Please don’t go away,” he said. “Mr, Merritt will think he has alarmed you. Miss Lee, this is my very good friend and co-worker in the field, the Reverend James Merritt.” “Is Mr. Merritt a friend of Lord Lit- timer’s?” Chris asked, demurely. “Littimer hates the cloth,” Henson replied. ‘Indeed, h¢ has no sympathy whatever with my work. I met my good friend, quite by accident, in the village just now, and brought him here for a chat. Mr. Merritt is taking a well- earned holiday.” Chris replied, graciously, that she didn’t doubt it. She did not deem it necessary to add that she knew that one ef Mr. Henson’s mystic telegrams had been addressed to one James Mer- ritt, at an address in Moreton Wells, a town some fifteen miles away. That the scoundrel was up to no good she knew perfectly well. “Your work must be very interest- ing,’ she said. “Have you been in the church long, Mr. Merritt?” Merritt said, hoarsely, that he had not been in the church very long. His dreadful grin and fog voice suggested that he was a »rand plucked from the burning, and that he had only recently come over to the side of the angels. The whole time he spoke he never met Chris’s glance once. The chaplain of a convict prison would have turned from him in disgust. Henson was evidently ill at ease. In his suave, diplomatic way he contrived to maneuvre Merritt off the ground at length. “An excellent fellow,” he said, with exaggerated enthusiasm. “It was a great day for us when we won over James Merritt. He can reach a class which, hitherto, we have not touched.” ’ “¥e looks as if he had been in gaol,” Chris said. “Oh, he has,” Henson admitted, can- didly. “Many a time.” Chris deemed it just possible that the unpleasant experience might be en- dured again, but she only smiled and expressed herself as deeply interested. The uneasiness in Henson’s manner gradually disappeared. Evidently the girl suspected nothing. She would haye Uked to have asked a question or twu about Mr. Merritt’s thumb, but she deemed it prudent not to do so. Dinner came at length, dinner, served in the great hall, in honor of the re- cently-arrived guest, and set up in all the panoply and splendor that Littimer affected at times. The best plate was laid out on the long table. There were banks and coppices of flowers at either corner, a huge palm nodded over silver and glass and priceless china. The softly- shaded electric lights made pools of amber flame on fruit and flowers and gleaming crystal. Half-a-dozen big footmen went about their work with noiseless tread. Henson shook his head playfully at all this show and splendor. His good humor was of the elephantine order, and belied the drawn anxiety of his eyes. Luxurious and peaceful as the scene was, there seemed to Chris to bea touch of electricity in the air, the sug- gestion of something about to happen. Littimer glanced at her admiringly. She was dressed in white satin, and she had in her hair a single diamond star of price. “Of course Henson condemns all this sort of thing,” Littimer said. “ He would have you believe that when he comes into his own the plate and wine will be sold for the benefit of the poor, and the seats of the mighty filled with decayed governesses and antiquated shop-walkers.” “T hope that time may be long de- ferred,” Henson murmured. “And so do I,” Littimer said, drily, “which is one of the advantages of be- ing conservative. By the way, who was that truculent-looking scoundrel I saw you with this afternoon?” Henson hastened to explain. Littimer was emphatically of opinion that such visitors were better kept at a distance for the present. When all the rare plate and treasures of Littimer Castle had been disposed of for philanthropic purposes it would not matter. “There was a time when the enter- prising burglar got his knowledge of the domestic and physical geography of a house from the servants. Now he re- forms, with the great advantage that he can lay his plan of campaign from personal observation. It is a much more admirable method, and tends to avert suspicion from the actual crim- inal” “You would not speak thus if you knew Merritt,” said Henson. “All the same, I don’t want the privi- lege,” Littimer smiled. “A man with a face like that couldn’t reform; nature would resent such an enormity. And yet, you can never tell. Physically speaking, my quondam friend, Hather- ly Bell, has a perfect face.” “I confess I am anxious to see him,” Chris said. I—I heard him lecture in America. He had the most interesting theory about dogs. Mr. Hensan hates dogs.” “Yes,” said Henson, shortly, “I do, and they hate me, but that does not prevent my being interested in the com- ing of Dr. Bell. And nobody hopes more sincerely than myself that he will suc- ceed in clearly vindicating his charac- ter.”” Littimer smiled sarcastically, as he trifled with his claret glass. In his cynical way, he was looking forward to the interview with a certain sense of amusement. And there was a time when he had enjoyed Bell’s sockty im- mensely, “Well; you will not have longto wait now,” he said. “it is long past 10, and Bell is due at any moment after 11. Coffee in the balcony, please.” It was a gloriously warm night, just a faint suspicion of a breeze in the air. Down below, the sea beat witha gentle sway against the cliffs;, on tht grassy slopes a belated lamb was blesting for its dam. Chris strolled quietly down the garden with her mind at peice for a ime. She had almost forgaten her mission for a moment. A figire slip- ped gently past her on the guss, but she utterly failed to notice it. “An exceedingly nice girl, a Lit- timer was saying, “and distincty amus- ing. Excuse me if I leave you here—a tendency <o ague and English light air don’t bled together.” | } | ° CHAPTER XXX. Gone! It was the very moment tha{ Henson had been waiting for. All his listless- ness had vanished. He sprary to his feet and made his way hurriedy across the lawn. Dark ‘as it was, hi slipped along with the ease of one wlo is fa- miliar with every inch of the ground. A man half his weight and hall his size could have been no more acti’ He advanced to what seemed o be the very edge of the cliff and peared. There were rocks and grass} knolls which served as landmarks tohim. A slip of the foot might have resuted in a serious accident. Above the jloom & head appeared. “That you, Merritt?” Henso hoarsely. ” “Oh, it's me, right enough,” cim muttered reply. “Good job as asked, the 7 DEFECTIVE PA to a seafaring life, or I should never have got up these cliffs. Where’s the grit of : “Oh, the girl’s right enough. She's standing exactly Avhere she can hear the ery of ‘the suffering in distress. You can leave that part of the drama to me. She’s a smart girl, with plenty of pluck, but, all the same, I’m going to make use of her. Have you got the things?” : “Got everything, pardner. Got a proper wipe over the skull, too.” “How on earth did you manage to do that?” “Meddlin with Bell, of course. Why didn’t you let him come and produce his picture in peace? We should have been all ready to flabbergaster him when he did come.” “My good Merritt, I have not the slightest doubt about it. My plans are too carefully laid for them to go astray, But, at the same time, I firmly believe in having more than one plan of attack and more than two ways of escape. But if we could have despoiled Bell of his picture it would have been utterly use- less for him to have come here. He would have gone back, preferring to accept defeat to arriving with a cock- and-bull story to the effect that he had been robbed of his treasure on the way. And so he got the best of you, eh?” s “Rather! I fancied that I was pretty strong, but—well, it doesn’t matter. Here I am with the tools, and I ain’t going to fail this time. Before Bell comes the little trap will be ready, and you will be able to prove an alibi.” Henson chuckled hoarsely. He loved dramatic effect, and here was one to hand. He almost fancied that he could see the white outline of Chris's figure from where he stood. “Get along,” he said. time to lose.” Merritt nodded and began to make his way upward. Some way above him Chris was looking down. Her quick ear had detected some suspicious sound. She watched eagerly. Just below her the big electric light on the castle tow- er cast a band of flame athwart the cliff. Chris looked down steadily at this. Presently she saw a hand uplift- ed into the belt of flame, a hand grasp- ing for a ledge of rock, and a quickly- stifled cry rose to her lips. The thumb on/the hand was smashed flat; there was a tiny pink nail in the center. Chris's heart gave one quick leap, then her senses came back to her. Ske needed nobody to tell her that the own- er of that hand was James Merritt. Nor did she require any fine discrim- ination to perceive that he was up to no good. That it had something to do with the plot against Bell she felt cer- tain. But the man was coming now; he could only reach the top of the cliff just under the wall where she was standing. Chris peered eagerly down into the path of light until the intrud- er looked up. Then she jerked back, forgetting that she was in the dark- ness and absolutely invisible. The ac- tion was disastrous, however, for it shook Chris’s diamond star from her head, and it fell gently, almost at the feet of the climber. An instant later, and his eyes had fallen upon it. “What bloomin’ luck,” he said, hoarse- ly. “I suppose that girl yonder must have dropped it over. Well, it’s as good as a couple of hundred pounds to me, anyway. Little missie, you’d better take a tearful farewell of your lumps of sugar, as you'll. never see them Wo Chris’s quivering indignation, he slipped the star into his breast pocket. again.” For a moment the girl was on the point of crying out. She was glad she had refrained a second after, for a real- ly brilliant thought occurred to her. She had never evolved anything more clever in her life, but she did not quite realize that as yet. Nearer and nearer the man with the maimed thumb came. | Chris stepped back into the shadow. She waited until the intruder had slipped past her in the direction of the castle and prepared to follow at a discreet distance. Whatev- er he was after, she felt sure ‘he was be- ing ordered and abetted by Reginald Henson. Two minutes, five minutes elapsed before she moved. What was that? Surely, a voice somewhere near hér moaning for help. Chris stood perfectly still, listening for the next cry. Her sense of humanity had been touched, she had forgotten Merritt entirely. Again the stifled cry for help came. “Who are you?” Chris shouted. where are you?” “Henson,” came the totally unexpect- ed reply. “I’m down on a ledge of rock. No, I’m not particularly badly hurt, but I dare not move.” Chris paused for a moment, utterly bewildered. Henson must have been on the lookout for his accomplice, she thought, and missed his footing and fallen. Pity he had not fallen a little farther, she murmured, bitterly, and broken his neck. But this was only for a moment, and her sense of justice and humanity speedily returned. “I cannot see anything of you,” said. ‘i “All the same, I can see your out- line,” Henson said, dismally. “I don’t feel quite so, frightenea now. I can hang on a bit longer, especially now I know assistance is at hand. At first I begun to be afraid that I was a prison- er for the night. No; don’t go. If I had a rope I should have the proper confidence to swarm up again. And there is a coil of rope in the arbor close by you. Hang it straight down over that middle boulder and fasten your end around one of those iron pilasters.” The rope was there, as Henson had stated; indeed, he had placed it there himself, With the utmost coolness and courage Chris did as she was desired. But it took some little time to coax the rope to go over in the proper direction, There was a little laugh of triumph from below, and presently Henson, with every appearance of utter exhaustion, climbed over the ledge to the terrace. At the same moment an owl hooted twice from the long belt of trees at the bottom of the garden. “I hope you are none the worse for your adventure?” Chris asked, politely. Henson said, sententiously, that he fancied not. His familiarity with the cliffs had led him too far. If he had not fallen on a ledge,of rocks, goodness only knows what might have happened. Would Chris be so good as to lend him the benefit of her arm back to the cas- tle? Chris was graciously willing, but she was full of curiosity at the same time. Had Henson really been in dan- “There is no “And she GE son knew very well that she had taken @ great fancy to the upper terrace, and he might—” Really, it was difficult to know what to think. They passed along slowly till the lights here and there from the cas- tle shone in their faces, At the same time a carriage had driven up to the hall door and a visitor was getting out. With a strange sense of eagerness and pleasure, Chris recognized the hand- some features and misshapen shape of Hatherly Bell. “The expected guest has arrived,” Henson said. There was such a queer mixture of snarling anger and exulting triumph in his voice that Chris looked up. Just for an instant Henson had dropped the mask. A ray of light from the open window streamed fully across his face. | The malignant pleasure of it startled Chris. Like a flash, she began to see how she had been used by those mis- creants. “He is very handsome,” she contrived to say, steadily. “Handsome is as handsome does, Henson quoted. “Let us hope that Dr. Bell will succeed in his mission. He has my best wishes.” Chris turned away and walked slowly as possible up the stairs. Another min- ute with that slimy hypocrite, and she felt she must betray herself. Once out of sight, ghe flew along the corridor and snapped up the electric light. She fell back with a stifled cry of dismay, but she was more sorrowful than surprised. “I expected it,” she said. “I knew that this was the thing they were after.” The precious copy of Rembrandt was no longer there! (To be Continued.) Locked-Out Viennese. While Londoners may groan under the law which compels restaurants to clase at 12:30 a. m., and theatergoers to sup with unpleasant haste, or not at all, they may account themselves hap- pier than the Viennese. For if London has its refreshment restrictions, it, at all events, has its latchkey, while in Vienna every man’s home is his dun- geon from 10 p. m. to 6 a.m. Vienna is a city of flats, and at 10 p. m. the com- mon entrance door of each block is closed and bolted. Thereafter personas passing in or out must pay a fine of 24 to the concierge until midnight, and 4d from that hour until 6 a.m. To go out to post a letter costs 2d, and the same amount to return. To prolong a visit to a friend after 10 p. m. means 2d to get out of his house and 2d more to en- ter your own. A natural result of this irritating tax is that, of all capital cit- ies, Vienna is earliest to bed.—London Chronicle. Advice to Young Women, Editors are just as likely to be af- fected by appearances as other people are. They try to be impartial. But they are enly human. Strive as they may to live up to the conception that some of you have of them as superior beings who are above the influences that sway ordinary mortals, they cannot always avoid being pleasantly impressed by attractive-looking manuscipt. Its lit- erary merit may in reality be no great- er than that of the poorly-prepared manuscript lying alongside of it. But its more presentable appearance may pring out its good qualities so much ‘more effectively as to make it seem to the editor to be decidedly the better piece of writing, and thus lead to its acceptance in preference to the other.— Ladies’ Home Jovrnal. Freddie’s Wise Offer. A five-year-old boy of Greenwich, Conn., on being put to bed a few nights ago, threw his arms around his moth- er’s neck and said: “Please don’t leave me, mamma. I’m afraid to be left alone in all this dark.” “But you mustn’t be afraid, Fred- die,” was the mother’s reply. “You are not alone; God is with you.” The little fellow was silent, and, thinking he had lost all fear, his moth- er stole quietly away and joined her husband down stairs. A few moments later Freddie’s voice was heard com- ing from the top of the stairs: “Mamma, mamma!” he cried. “Come up, you, and stay with God in the dark, and I'll stay with papa in the parlor.”—Exchange. Soldiers’ Coats at $175 Each. The accounts of -the British army clothing factory for the past financial year were issued recently. The value of the production continued to increase steadily, owing to the war, and is re- turned for the twelve months as £749,- 324, or, an increase of nearly £100,000. Some of the items seem rather high, put all pale before the state coats of the Guards. The most is returned as: Household cavalry, £35 14s 51-4d; foot guards, £32 5s 103-4d. It is true the war department can make a shirt for “Tommy” for 10 1-4d, and it is some- thing to their credit. At the same time, it was recently reported from Colcl~: ter that some soldiers have no clothing fit to wear in the public streets.—Lon- don Express. . What Ailed Harold. A certain small boy is distinguished for his large and healthy appetite, a fact which is known to all his friends. A short time ago he attended a chil- dren’s birthday luncheon, and it was observed that he hardly touched any- thing that was put before him, while he had a weary and uninterested look, un- common in his case, at meal time. “Why, Harold,” said his anxious hostess, taking him aside afterward, “what is the matter? You had no ap- petite for luncheon.” “Well,” said Harold, impatiently, “you see mother said that I was always disgracing her with my big appetite. So she made me eat ten bowls of rice before I left home.”—New York Even- ing Sun. Wonderful. “I read to-day,” remarked the Ob- servant Boarder, “‘that a man in Maine was seized with all the symptoms of intoxication after eating a bologna sal “I don’t doubt it,” commented the Cross-Eyed Boarder. ‘“ Strange phe- \nomena are continually occurring in prohibition states.”—Pittsburg Chroni- cle-Telegraph. CURES DIPLOMATIC AMBITION. A Short Term In the Zanzibar Cor sulship Generally Sufficient. Undesirable consulships have long given rise to humorous incidents. But Zanzibar, to which the President has appointed Mason Mitchell, a rough- rider, seems to be in the lead in un- attractiveness, if the length of con- sular terms proves any test, says the Washington correspondent of the New York Evening Post. Indiana has usu- ally claimed the honor of furnishing candidates for this place, but after the resignation of a man named Rog- ers of Shoales, the Indiana senators notified the President that they were through with it. They had constitu- ents who were willing to take chances, but the senators were not prepared to promise that these ven- turesome individuals would stay more than a month. Before Rogers took the place it was held for nearly a year by “Bob” Mansfield, at one time pri- vate secretary to Senator Beveridge, and now consul at Valparaiso. Mans- field came back, according to Indiana descriptions, ‘as thin as a toothpick and as yellow as June butter.” He said he had stuck it out as long 23 the insurance company would let him, and that he returned to save his pre- miums. Before Mansfield, there was an Indianian named Billheimer, de- scribed as a husky Hoosier, with 2 large nose and frame pickeled iu maleria. He was cured of diplomatic ambition in about two months, and has never asked for a place since. Before Billheimer, Judge Riley of Vir- ginia served; he remained as long as his aversion to the negroes would permit. Finally, he is said to have taken a gun and emptied a load of fine birdshot into the dusky natives who persisted in taking a daily bath in front of the American consulate, which, the Judge “allowed,” was 10 indignity to be resented by this gov- ernment’s representative. HE LIKES FRIED POTATOES. Grand Duke Alexis Has a Favorite Dish, So They Say. Grand Duke Alexis of Russia is very fond of fried potatoes, and dur- ing his recent visit to Paris he was wont to buy a few every day from a woman in the street and to eat them beside her stall. The woman did not know him, but as he paid her in princely fashion, she was very anxious to find out who he was. ‘ “I can tell you who he is,” said a neighbor one day. “He is Grand Duke Alexis, uncle of the czar and one of the greatest men in Russia.” Utterly amazed, the woman asked: “In heaven’s name, how should I ad- dress him?” “Oh, call him ‘Your Excellency,’ or "Your Royal Highness,” was the an- swer. . The woman resolved to do so, and the next day, as she was sprinkling some salt over the smoking potatoes which the grand duke had bought, she said: “I can recommend them to your royal highness, for I know your excellency has never tasted better potatoes.” The grand duke burst out laughing, and paid more for the potatoes than he had ever paid before, but he was annoyed at finding himself recognized and never returned to buy another potato, 4 « Girard Was Considerate. ) One of the sea captains in the env ploy of Stephen Girard had a rural Yankee’s fondness for whittling with his jackknife, and on one trip suc- ceeded in getting away with a large part of the rail, although, feeling that he was not without the artistic sense, be really regarded the rail as greatly improved in appearance. When the vessel came to Philadelphia Girard went aboard, made a general inspec- tion in the captain’s absence, and, as he was about to return to shore, asked one of the seamen who had been cut- ting the rail. The seaman told him the captain, and then, afraid his tell- ing might have unpleasant conse- quences were the captain to learn of it in a roundabout way, informed that official of the interview -with Girard. The captain was in terror of a repri- mand, but, hearing nothing from his employer, supposed the incident closed. As he was about weighing anchor ready to leave port, a dray loaded with shingles drove down to the wharf, and the driver hailed the vessel. “There must be some mistake! shouted the captain. “Our bill of lading doesn’t mention shingles!” “This is where they belong!” sung back the driver. “Mr. Girard, him- self, told me to deliver them! He te they’re for the captain to whit- tle!” * Standing on the Bias. During the trial of a street railway damage suit in one of the circuit branches of the supreme court of the District of Columbia a few days ayo an important eyewitness of the acci- dent took the stand in the person of an elderly colored man. The plaintiff had been injured while the car was at a street crossing, and one of the at- torneys was endeavoring to elicit from the witness just where the latter was standing at the moment the plaintiff was struck by the car. “As I understand you,” remarked the attorney, after a number of questions had been asked, “you were standing at the street corner diagonally oppo- site the point where the accident oc- curred.” ; “No, sir, I wasn’t,” declared the wit- ness, “I guess I was standing kinder sort er on the bias from the spot.”