Newspaper Page Text
iet .oPKIN& I urn rd u . fouli':'g b.b.I ir postponed - until e lheroe bmy comprehen 'i$u* se4n It?" 1in spoke y He l and ?no ~ :Councir l Room. "P.Ip otht er part of the astle with Don Juoan. 'G ame'i Ii.. ed. Francisco. "What game could there be? What do you aean, homes? Explain your insiauna tions'? "It is st nge that a true lover of the king -aeda hater of the Republic shoeld seel to delay the execution of one of Crespo's most dangerous gen erals. Rather, to my mind, should he aei~t ds 4a'th<of the entire horde." PranciSco smiled. "General Oomes.', he said, "there ire other hearts than yours. You are sot the only friend the king has in Venezuela. Have I not led my aol lliend?" "Your soldiers? Oh, yes, your sol ilers. Of course, my dear Pedro, your aalor is beyond dispute. But in this iase of Salvarez-the delay of his ex ecution as demanded by you and yield ed by Philip-is, to say the least, in axplicable. There must be a motive to it." "Yes," replied Francisco, after a muse, "there is a motive in it. There is a reason why I have asked to have the execution ot Salvarez postponed. l b'ive explained this reason to the king. It satisfied him. It must satisfy you." Gomes laughed. "Which is your way of informing me that it is none of my business," he said. "Not so. You are general of the army. You-" "Oh, well, let it drop. It Philip is satisfied. I am sure I ought to be. There are matters to be thought of that are more important than this rebel general. It is time we moved toward the Orinoco." "I thought it had been decided that our safest plan was to wait here for Crespo's army to attack us. He will, undoubtedly, send only small detach ments at a time. We can destroy them as they come." "'Nonsense." said Gomez, shruggfng his shoulders. 'Are we to sit here in active while Crespo fires the enthusi asm of the mobs north of the Orinoco? What would Godoy, Hernandez and. the others say to that? Remember, we have thousands of supporters there who are ready to join us as soon as we begin our triumphant march to ward Caracas. If we remain here, they will think we are afraid, and will de sert the Crespo. I understand our peo ple well enough to know that their loyalty to our cause can be depended upon only as long as we show them we are succeeding. Our best move is to cross the Orinoco as soon as pos sible, picking up reinforcements on the way. We shall have easily twice as many followers as Crespo by the time we meet him." "But will the king leave tha castle as long as Garza's daughter is ill?" "He must. Is the cause to be lost through his infatuation?" When Francisco had gone, Gomez sent for a certain captain upon whom ,he felt that he could rely. "General, you sent for me," said the captain, as he entered. "Yes, I sent for you, because I trust you more than I do any other officer of the king, and I have something for you to do." "Thank you, general. I will en deavor to deserve your high regard." "Captain, what do you think of lFraneisco?" "Francisco? :What do I think of lhim? That is a strange question, geu ('ral." "I know it is, but strange circum stances cause it. You were probably surprised when you learned that the execution of Salvarez was postponed till midnight." "Yes, I was surprised at that." "You would no doubt be more sur prised if you knew that this was done ;'t the solicitation of Francisco him "Francisco! He was to give the command to fire." "Just so. Now. captain, you have lived near enough to Francisco to lnow something about him. What have been the relations existing be tween Francisco and the family of Sal sares? Is there anything there?" "Oh, Francisco has long wanted to marry the daughter of Salvarez. Ev urybody knew that." "Do you think his love for the girl is sincere?" "Sincere? It is strong enough." "You don't like the wordl sincere " "It hardly applies to ordinary cases of love on the Orinoco. I think Fran clsco wants her for his own happiness. I don't think he considers hers." "Still, his passion for her is such that be would resort to any means to compel her to marry him." "I think so." "So do I. Now I will tell you why I sent for you. I believe Francisco is a traltor." "Traitor! Caramba! 1 like such traitors. He was in the 'thickest of the fight," "That Is all true enough, but does not alter my opinion. There is some thing in this request of his to have the execution of Salvare. delsyed till mid night that makes me doubt him. The chge from daylight to darkness was Jdzidcant. With this suspicion in my mind, I took the trouble to learn whom he had chosen to form the Bfring squad. 'ihe a' to a man, picked friends of 'ilp" :reis some treachery aoot, * you may be sure. Could it be possible tbatheha preomised to let Salvarsa ' S~cae,6~uia the girl's love?" w bdet if P neraimso wisb must not be aliovG teo. Io nt emr irset -to tabs a toss. df ybur men-men who are not friend ly to Franclsco-and watch, without being watched. That is, secrete your selves some time before midnight where you can see the execution. Give Francseo plenty of tiqe 'to. prove. his treachery. If he allows Salvarez to es cape, See that the rebel general is at once killed and arrest Francisco and bring him before the king." "That is easily done." "Then do it." "I will." "And keep your own counsel. Do not allow Francisco to know that we suspect him." "You may trust me," said the cap tain, as he went out. While all this had been going on, two forms were crouching close to the sliding panel that separated them from the council room, and every word ut tered by Gomez and his associates had been heard by Medworth and Tem pest. When the captain had gone, one of the crouching figures made a sigs and crept noiselesslyaway. The other fol lowed him. In a moment they ha : Ie scended the stone stairs to the caverns under the castle. "Well," said Tempest, "the thing gets hotter and hotter. l1nt we have 3omething to do." "What is it?" "Salvarez must be saved!" "abalvarez! lie ,snuht to be, but how?" "l.do not know yet. We know what room he is in. In some way he must be told of this scheme of Gomes's. Come what may, Salvares must be saved!" CHAPTER XIV. The Barred Window. That evening was dark and cloudy. By nine o'clock the largest object would not cast a shadow. Jacinta, still weak after the exhaust ing excitement of the day, waite'd al most breathlessly for the midnight hLor to come, for it was by this time cer:ta'n that the plan of F?rancico was working to perfection. But, so strangely are women constituted, even as she rejoiced in the fact that her father's life was to be saved, she be gan to rebel against the fulfillment of the promise that had made his salva tion possible. She loathed and despised Francisco, whom she knew to be a man of low and brutal tastes, a small, mean avul. and her heart grew sick when she thought of the future that must now be hers-bound to a man upon whom she would look only with loathing and contempt. And as her mind dwelt on the short comings and evil character of the man who was destined to be her husband, tnere rose before her the picture of the handsome young American who had rescued her from Francisco's evil hands. There was a man she could have icved. "He loves another," she said to her self. "And that other is to be married to the hateful conqueror Ah! if I were free, why might not the American love me?" She cast aside her gloomy thoughts and went to the window, where, press ing her tear-stained face against the bars, she peered out into the starless night. A slight rustling so:und beneath the window startled her. Sue took a step backward in sudder fear. She listened intentley. What was that A whisper! Sh. listened again. This time there could be no doubt. A voice came out of the darkness, whispering, almost wlaustl:ng the name, "Salvarez." "Are you the daughter of General Salvarez?" came the voic. "Yes, yes." she replied. "W\Ve are prisor.ers. I thought you were also taken." "So we were," replied Medworth, "but Tempest and I escaled." "You will be captured." said Jacinta, really alarmed for hint. "Why do you not remain hidden?" "I came to warn your father--to save him." was the reply. Jacinta's breath caLme hard. She strained her eyes, and by the aid of what little light escaped through the window she saw the handsonme face of the American uptrur.wd to hers. "To save my father!" she exclaimed. "Brave ftriend! But he is already safe." "No, he is not." said Medworth. "I know what you mean. You promised to marry Francisco--" "1 loathe--hate-despise him," whis pered Jacinta. "Perhaps you do." said Medworth, In reply to her remark about Francisco. "You ought to. Dd he promise to save your father if you consented to be his wife?" "Yes, yes," panted Jacinta. "Is the wretch false?" "No. I think he means to carry out his contract, but it is impossible for him to succeed. By crouching at the sliding panel we can hear all that is said in the council room. Gomez was there with Francisco. Gomez seemed to think Francisco would play him false and allow your father to escape. The men that Francisco picked to form the firing equad were friends of his own, ana Gomez thought it looked sus picious. But Gomez seemed at last to be reassured by Francisco, and they talked or other matters. But Francisco had no sooner left than Gomez sent for an officer, to whom he gave this order: The officer is to take some men and lie hidden near the spot where the execution is to take place. It your father is not shot by Francisco he is to be shot by the others." "Oh!" sobbed Jacinta. "Then there is no hope for my poor father!" "I want to help him esoape," said Medworth. "Have you not thought of the secret passage?" "Yes, we have thought of it; but to what purpose? My father eay the en ear were there, and drove our ma know that? An armed guear is lsm outeide our door, and no other room cohnnets with the secret peasage but the brary. Brea vIt my father made a dash for liberty, they would discover his retreat, and all .would be lost." "Can these bars be wrenched out?" asked Medworth, placing his hand on one. "No,' 'replied Jaclnta; and as itf to test their strength with them, she placed her hand above his, touchltg it At the contact another thrill set her young heart to Qftttring. "Then in some way he must be as sisted," said Medworth._ "The secret passage must be reached." "I can suggest nothing," said the girl. "Francisco was my only hope.' "How many guards are there?" he asked. "One." she replied. "Listen. You are not far from the librar-." ":ýo. The distance from that door to this is not great." "Then I will go back, creep-up to the `sliding panel, and see if any one is in the library. If there is no one, I will endeavor to fasten the door. Is there a lock " "Yes. We always kept the key hang ing near the door--on the right." "Good. If it is there still, I will lock the door and bring the key to you. That will keep others out, and your father will know the coast is clear. Of course, if they come and find it locked there will be an uproar, and we shall be defeated, but so we should be if any one went into the room unknown to us." "Not if my father was armed," said Jacinta. "If there was only one." "No, that is true enough. Better take the chance then with the door open. But I must go to see if there is any one there, and to get a pistol for your father. My own is in the secret pas sage. Your father must be informed of the plan while I am gone. When I return, he must in some way attract the attention of the guard, get him in side the room and silence him before he has time to give the alarm. Then you can all three escape to the secret passage. I will meet you there. When you are safe in the caverns we can plan further," and Medworth was gone. The trembling girl lost no time in acquainting her father with the details of Medworth's plan. While he listened to her a grim smile played around the old warrior's mouth. "A brave youtn!" he said. "We will see how his plan can be made to work." (To be continued.) HE SAW THE JOKE AT LAST. Took EnglIshman a Long Time, But He Laughed Heartily. When Sir Walter -- was last seen in this country a friend to k him tio the bench show in the Gardan, where, among other canines that he much admired, was a coach dog. He had a good deal to say about this brute for he had bred such in Berkshire. The New Yorker, who is fond of h's joke, said: "Sir Walter, can you tell me what makes th:t Co,; spo tad?' Tae baronet launcied o'f i:to a dissertation on dogs in general and coach dogs in particular, attracting even experts by his learned remarks on the origin of species, etc. But the Ame:ican refus ed to be satisfied. He entered a sol emn objection to every s:atement of the noble Britisher, until the latter, somewhat exasperated, drawled: "It is possible that you understand dogs better than I. Will you do me the kindness to answer your own question -what makes a coach dog spo t d?" "The spots, Sir Walter," was the dry reply. About half an hour afterward, as the two were down among the te- rlers, Sir Walter leaned far back, and, facing the rafters with his uptur:ed, rubicund countenance, gave vent to a series of "haw-haw-haws" that stbrtld the occupants of the benches. "H-w haw-haw!" he w-nt on, and all the dogs barked. "Haw-haw-haw!" he re peated, gazing through the skylight, and the dogs barked more. "Haw haw-haw!" he roared, and the b:rger brutes growled in derision. "Haw haw-haw!" Presently there was a crowd of several hundred people etar ing at him All could see that he was a typical John 13ull, and possibly all believed that he ,'as not in his right mind. "Haw-haw-haw!" When he got a chance to break in the American friend inquired w;hat was the ma ter, and Sir Walter exp'atned: "You ee,. old chap, you Americans are so deuced -levah it takes us Britishers a long time to catch up with you. I am just now appreciating what you said some 'ittle time ago about the spots making the coach dog spotted, and, do you know, my deah fellow, it eas damned bright."-New York Press. Writers Have Same Idea. George Hibbert, digging among Ho race Walpole's letters in order to es tablish his disputed stat;s in regard to the American revolution, came across the following passage: "'the next Augustin age will dawn on the other side of the Atlantic. There will 'e a Thucydides at Boston, a Xeno phon at New York, and in time a Vlrgil :t Mexico and a Horace at Peru. At 'nast some curious traveler from Lims will visit England and give a descrip tion of the ruins of St. Paul's l:k the editions of Baalbec and Palmyra." Here the reader of Macauley will rec ognize the undoubted source of that author's famous New Zealander sketching the ruins of St. Paul's. Is this an example of "conscious" or of "unconscious cerebration" on the part of the first really popular historian that England has produced? only ou Sunday mveealrs Pepe. New Orleans has the oply paper In the Utlted States that pubiIshes a Sun. day evening edition. Norway and Sweden also reported damage by the hot wlnds. Een the midnight sun seemed to be warmlg up a it, MVYOA. (Special Correspondence.) . GOOD many years ago, as I if hurried, a hotfoot student, on early summer mornings. eager to sit at the feet, or-rther a good deal opt; the head, :f the venerable .Professor of Bot tny in the iloyal Botanic Gar lets, FAiburgh, sorely tempted 0 linger outside with the pur :oiners of alluring roses-I passed un "onsciously, then, the birthplace of the now world-famous, 1 think I may ay world-beloved, author, Robert I oais Stevenson. As the cable-car ;wings round Cannon Mill's Bridge at he foot of the long descent from princes street to Inverleith Row one Inds. on one's right, a row of com 'ortable, two-story dwelling houses, 'ach with a miniature garden in front, tefended uy the usual stone parapet md iron railings, admitting to its ;rass and trees all the sunlight that 'an overtop or outflank the opposing 'erements. In No. 8 was born the !elicate boy. Here were passed the 'arty years of a childhood, perhaps noro brightly and vividly recorded han any other-in the "Child's Gar len of Verses." :.:y acquaintance with Stevenson be -an at a small school, kept by Mr. :obert Tiomnson at 40, Frederick street, Edinburgh, a house. I observed, not without a pang of regret, being lately demolished. My fat::er's house at Murrayfield. so vividly described as the scene of a murder in "The Mis adventures of John Nicholson," situ ated on the crest of the ers-tmost slope of the Corstorphire Hill, and com nmandirg eve" from its one-storied windows views of lnchkeith and Largo Law in the east, to Pentland range in the south, became a center from and. our comrades often strolled with me on Saturdays. At the crest of the Kirk road leading to Corstoephire is fie famous coign of vantage for a view of Edinburgh. known as "Rest and-be-thankful;" and here it is that Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson locates the parting of David and Alan in "Kidnapped." One of the places I always associate very intimately with Stevenson is the Princes Street Gardens, gardens which, marred as they a:e by railway which Stevenson's walk:s. with me and other school fri*.x:ds. radiated. To the north lies the marsion of Ravelston. with its legends ard ruined tower, sur rounded by the home grounds. West I ward from these, covering a consider able part of the Co storphine Hill, lie the woods of IRavelston, to which for I many years of our childhood we had THE GRAVE OF R. L. STEVENSON AT SAMOA. - /'ýýý J ý ill -cfi"i"" ýtw.scý 'yý..t"ý/\+^c I'tuler the wide and sltrry sky Jlig the g!:iv anid let me lie. tJ:ud dii I live :tnd g!hully die, .\' 'il I laidi mei down with ii a wIll. free arncss; and in these Stevenson encrcathhments, form on sunny days a sort of. paradise or happy valley separating the grim nminatory castle rock with its massive shado;ws from the shining morning face of Princes street, whose gay length on sunny days is like a long parterre of moving flowers. (Here as schoolboys we went almost daily, at an interval between lessons, and no doubt propounded to each other the callow wisdom of the boyish mind. Here. too, later, when that wisdcm had some show of feath er, we went for quiet to report prog _ . .ma._ ý- =-ý "Valilma," Stevenson's Home in Sa moa. ress to each other in confidential chat. It would be impossible in the space at my disposal to enumerate, except in dry catalogue, the places intimately associated with Stevenson, even with In that cradle-land of his, to which I have confined myself; to attempt to follow him even up to manhood, through every change of scene which left its mark on a mind at once ex t'ordinarily imoressionable and re tentiv.--Ale had often to fly south w')' the swallows to the south of Bn . apd or Frane, such as Torquay and Mentone; and these interruptions to his surroundings, and to practice and new impressions must have cone much to keep sharp the edge of interest in his surroundings, and to pratice and strengthen his fresh and keen powers of observation by which he at once stimulated and schooled his ardent imaginatiod. I have oeen on Stevenson's track i W'e reproduce from Black and White the above portrait of Stevenson. dressed as one of a grup of Samoan natives. Mrs. Stevenson is also of the party. The por. trait gives a good idea of the plce turesque Idyllic life led by the novel ist in his South Pacific home. distant parts of the earth, as in Aus tralia and New Zeliand; I talked of him with James Chalmers in New Guinea. not far, as we reckon it from this distance, from the scene of the cruel murder of "Tamate" and his party last year. I was to have visited him in Samoa, but, alas, let the op portunity go by; and after his death I brooded sadly over these things in the pine woods above Davos Platz, within view of the house he occupied there. Everyone knows that Stevenson's last residence was on his Vailima es tate. near Apia, on one of tne Samo an Islands, where he spent the last years of his life, and where he died. Here he lived with something of the dignity and regard, if not toe pomp. ot a great Thane or chief, dispensing reward and punishment like a very patriarch, but beloved and honored by his dusky myrmidons as few men have been honored and beloved. Here no fought out his long struggle against alsease and death to its inevitable end, with the same heroic resolve and gay Mercutio-like courage he had al ways displayed. Here even amidst certain forebodings of death, which appear clearly in his letters to me, he produced among other good work the magnificent torso of Weir of Hermis ton, which beggared the praises of his warmest and most discriminating ad mirers alike. Hence was his body .orne by his faithful and sorrowing nenchmen to the summit of steep Vaca, wnere he lies as another beacon and landmark on the world-track of an indomitable race. Some Good Things In Punch. Punch is certainly to be credited with lots of good things. Example: "What is mindt? No matter. What is matter? Never mind." Anti that piece of advice to those about to marry: "Don't." Which reminds one of the conversation of Lafayette with two young men. Said ne to one of them, "I suppose you are married. Mr. This be the verse ye grave for me Here he tic's where he lon&.d to bt; Iome is the sail:or, homne I r c era. And the hunt('r homen' from the" hill. Smith?" "Yes. general, thank you, very happily." "Fortunate man," says the general. "And you, Mr. Jon:es, I suppose you are also mar ried." "No, general, 1 regret to say that I am not." "Ah!" responds the general, poking Mr. Jones in the ribs, "lucky dog." A Prejudiced Author. In his new book. "The Unspeaka"le Scot," Mr. T. W. I. Crosland says: "Whisky to breakfast, whisky to din ner, whisky to supper; whisky when you meet a friend, whisky over all business meetings whatsoever; whis ky before you go into kirk; whis ky when you come out; whisky when you are about to take a journey. whisky all along the road, whisky at the journey's endt; whisky when you are well, whisky if you no sick, whis iky alrmost as soon as you are born, whisky the last thing before you die taat is Scotland." Left His Skull as a Legacy. An aged Yorksaireman was so fond of Sir Henry Irving's acting that in his will he said that when ho died his body was to be buried headless, and the skull was to be cleaned and mounted, suitably inscribed with a silver inscription and handed to the actor, with the request that It be al ways used for Yorick's skull in the presentations of Hamlet. Novel Written by Blind Man. C. Albert Fairbanks of Worcester, Mass., who has been blind for thirty three years, or since he was two years old, has publisned a novel. It .as written by the Braille system of Din' pricks and then translated to a friend, whose copy was the manuscript used 5.. t., h_.ih..._ x Y · `rýVJR~· r ; ;; ýý}, RAVtl setesa- * Florence UM~aikIE ican woman who for ti years has languished ia -:l~S$ English prison fora eti/me which she has protested from the first she never committed-thq mur der or her husband. Mrs. Maybrick was condemned to be haaged, but five days before the time set for her execution her sen tence was commuted to life imprison ment because (I quote from the court records) "the evidence does riot ex clude a reasoitable doubt whether James Maybrick's deat. was in fact caused by the administration of prser.ic." The commutation of Mrs. May brick's serterce for the reason given by the English court attracted ex traordinary attertion and sympathy 1' 1w-s. Maybrick. When She Was Sentenced. for the American woman, and no pris oner accused of a capital offense has ever had such powerful friends exert ing all their combined strength to ef fect release as she has had. Florence Maybrick's unhappy fate has always lain heavily on my heart. So when I reached London, in May, I at once set at work to get permis sion to visit Aylesbury prison, where Mrs. Maybrick nas for the past seven years been confined. Mrs. Maybrick was about twenty-six years old, as I recollect it. when she was c"onvicted of the murder of her husband. She has been in prison thir teen years and is therefore at least approach:irg her fortieth birthday. Her face is an absolute blank ex cept for that terrible sort of dumb pro test felt in each feature. Florence Maybrick might be sixty or thirty, or any age between. She typifies dumb arguish as no other human be ing I have ever seen. I stretched out my hand toward the poor woman and the frail little figure shrank back. "I am so sorry." she said, in a voice soft. and low and ut terly hopeless; "'we are not allowed to shake hands or touch any one." Mrs. I:aybrick is a little over five feet in heig:it. Sae cannot possibly weigh over r inety pl~ids. Her face has the deadly waoen lco!' which long deprivation of s;:igi:t and fresh air inevitatly produce. Her features are not Io riar, but very pclasil:g-very gentle. Her eyes are blue and large, and excepting when she looks one diec-ly in the face, they arc so expressrnl.ess as to make one wonder if there is any sight in them. But I locked into Mrs. Maybrick's eyes determniutcd to evoke a response -determincod to send a little message to that poor hapless soul no matter what followed. "I am from Am'nric a." I said, and be fore I could be int"rrtl'ted. "you have thoulsands of frienlds there. You must not think you are lorgotten. W\e hope soon you will he free." The blue eyes grew human and ten der and looked into mine, still with the despa.ring gazei. The co:orless lips IlarteSl inll painful attempt to \\ \ Judge Harman. W'ho Sentened. ~(|!·s. ,[l3 brick. smile, disclostirpg beautifiul white teeta, and in a low, refined voice, very Eng lish in pitch and inflec:tion. Mrs May brick said: "Thank you Yes. I kttow I have frierds in Americ a. I had one great and noble champion in Miss Dodge- Gail lHamilton-- and whle she lived I had stron:g hope'. Rtut she is detad my tdear nuknownl friend is dead." I asked: "I t,-re any tItissage you have to send to A:merica?" "Only the same mesa-e." said Flor ence Maybrick-"nuy thanks. my pray ers for the happiress of all who have given me a word of sympathy, and remember, I amn innocel.t." "How ba\ve yet litivd?' I ventured "I cannot tell." Mrs. Maybrick re flied; "I often wonder how It is that I have lived. I think it must be be c'ause mny belief Ihas never died that one day, sooner or later, my inno cener will be proved. I am willing to die when that time comes. I must live till then." "And your children?" I asked. The blue eyes filled with big tears. "I know nothln:g of them for toe past seven years. During the first six years of my imprisonment the May. bricks allowed me to see pictures of them twice a year and I was to keep the photographs in my cell for twoqpty. four hours each time., '"It was asuch comfarst to ml at i I' *awtt4" I me ath.l "I believe Sis dead."' B "What do.yay4. I asked. '*dw d o'', - through ts weary t months?" " "And years; " t prfeotidec r cluding my sentence-' for, zlea:",. prison routine never vGite same, day and week, m th ai s I was told that -Mrs. Maybt not only been a model pr isoner self, but has had an unparanid )m flueinance for good on the other.i r era, who adore her. Several. oii convicts have offered and beed :to be permitted to serve a life s~atenes if it would earn Florence Maybricki's release. While Mrs. Maybrich was speaking the door opened and another attendO ant appeared. Once more I stretebed forth my hand, a friendly woman's hand to Florence Maybrick, and she shook her head and threw me a s . little 1+*-' from the tips of her wanes. like fingers. In another Instant the door had closed and I found myself in the cold stone corridor, free to leave this house of misery. As soon as I reached London on my ' return from Aylesbury I got the ad dress of Mrs. Maybrick's mother, the Baroness de Rocues, and wrote her asking if she would see me if I went to Rouen, France, where she is liv ing. I received an answer saying I should be welcome. The Baroness de Roques lives e the outskirts of Ronen in a tiny house of a few rooms of liliputian dimest asions, for which she pays about $P* a month. In this poor little retfge for ten long years she has lived, It tended only by a faithful Breton j woman. During these years Florence May I brick's mother has devoted her every hour, her every energy, her last avail ; able penny, to an effort to secure a new trial or a release for her unfor tunate daightrr. A new trial, Baroness de Roques has always con tended, would show conclusively that, as Sir Charles Russell, the attorney General and Lord Chief Justice ot t Mrs. Maybrlck. As She Is To-day. England said repeatedly: "Mrs. May brick ought to be set free, for she was never legally convicted." At the end of my visit the Baroness de Rocues gave me the picture of Mrs. Maybrichf, taken shortly before she was accus,.l of the crime for which she was tried, which is here repro duced.--Iiarriet Hubbard Ayer in New York lWorld. Strange French Tax Law. Possessiun may be nine-tenths of the law. but the remaining tenth oc casionally makes trouble, especially in France. A man in Paris had two motor cycles, on which he paid the an nual tax uncomplainingly until the motor cycles were stolen from him two years ago. Toe law insists he should go on paying the taxes indefi nitely, as he cannot prove he no anger possesses the cycles by return ing the taxing plaques which were attached to the machines, and, of -ourse. vanished with them. As long as ihe does not return the plaques toe law corsiders he is in possession of the cycles and insists on the taxes being paid. Smash Labor-Saving Machines. Labcr-saving machines introduced in the canning factories at Qulmper, drittany, led to a strike and ultimate ly to a riot, in which the workmen marched to the factories and smashed the new appliances. Play Both Ends. In Guatemala, the Indian populatlor tries to double its chances for the ef ficacy of prayer by worshiping at a Christian altar with images of its heathen deities hidden behlnu it Lessened Cost of Travel. Before the Siberian railway was available, a trip from London to Shanghai cost from $325 to $475, Now it can be made for from $65, third class, to $16n0. first class. See Selects Queer Home. Some reels of thread in a factory at Braunton. Devonshire, have been -:' chosen as a home by a solitary b.eei which is now actively engaged flling~g.' them with honey. Novelty In Building Opsatidnls;:" Instead of building In sectioen, - customary, a steel stack, 140 bt$e was recently elevated at the ong in West Albany, N. Y., Where Are the Somewhere in th 119,000,000 big cop~eI body appears to CeeI·oo