Catoctin clarion. [volume], December 16, 1915, Image 1

About Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940

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ts’ablished By Win. Need, 1870.
VOL JME XLV.
Fit i) Elt IC K It A1 LltOA I)
Tliurmont IMvision
Schedule In Effect September 19, 1915.
All trainj Daily unless specified
Leave Frederick Arrive Thurmont.
7. Da. 7 57 a. m.
9.49 a. m 10.27 a. m.
11,49 a m (2 27 p. m.
2 10 p. hi 2 57 p. m.
4.00 p. m A. 44 p. m.
4 4 1 p. m 527 p. m.
6.10 p. m 6 57 p. in.
8. MO p. m. Sunday Only 9.17 p. rn.
10. 11l p. m 10.56 p. m.
LeaveThurnient. Arrive Frederick.
6.12 a. m 0.58 a. m.
8 14 a. in 9 00 a m
10 45 a. m 11. Ml a. m
12.31 p. m '-19 p rn.
3.11 p. '"0 P- "i.
4.52 p. 5 34 p m
6.40 p. m Sunday Only 026 p. in
622 p. in. Except Sunday 708 p. m
7 (Ml p. m 7.46 p. m
925 p. m Sund iy Only 10.08 p rn.
N,te—All trains arriving and leaving
Tnunnonr, scheduled from Western Mary
land station.
Note—All trains arriving an ( leaving
Frederick scheduled from Square.
Western Maryland R. R.
Schedule In Effect September 19, 1915
going west.
5 D
£ 9 §| Jig ? = >■?
Ss c tl 'z -3 xj
# s i- jh ts
J J= <22 <3 < j
23 H
•4 10am 6 07am 720 am tlo 25am
*B.OO 10.42 12 04pm
•;0 40 12.31 ar1.35 4.00 pm B.loam
+4.o4pm 621 pm ar7 40
{7.10 9.22 10.45
going east.
-a c *-> v
o s 5 c u
41 §D 4) “ ® % £5 "2
>77 > £ > £ .Sg
3 a-a os 33 “ C.S
J; a— jz < a
J O 33 H 03
t 6 55am 8 12am 10 25am
t7 15 • I 55pm 3.13 pm 541 p m
•B.oopm 1.30 pm 350 4.5 ' 6-45
*4.15 5 33 8.14
•Daily. tDaily except Sunday. {Sunday
Only.
Anyone l fond! ig aiikttrh mid description innt
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Patents taken throuph Muim X Co. receive
tptdal notice, without clinruo, In the
Scientific American.
A tmndiomnlr Ulnrirntoil ™l:l7. Lmvcftt rlr
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Rates furnished on application to oui
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ISTEIENS
SHOOT
You want to HIT what you are aiming at
■| —belt bird, beast or target. Make your
shots count by shooting the STEVENS.
Of For 4t years STEVENS ARMS have
|( carried off PREMIER HONORS for AC-
S I CURACY. Our line:
U Rifles, Shotguns, Pistols
B Axk your Deaiaf—in* Send 4 cts, in stamps
■ *ist on the Stbvfns. f>r lio-page Catalog
■ we ship direct, tv- vaina iehookofrefer-
I re< clntoff atalrnrori’e pmsnective shooters.
W Beautiful three-color Aluminum Hanger will
be forwarded for 10 cents in stamps.
J. Stevens Arms & Tool Co.,
P. 0. Box 4096
CHICOPEE PALLS, MASS., U. 8. A.
The Catoctin Clarion.
FAMOUS OLD MOUNTAIN
AP.‘r.AT HAS A CONSPICUOUS
PLACE IN HISTORY.
Center of Troubled Land Where Peace
Is a Comparatively Unknown Quan
tity—Proud Record Claimed
by Armenian Race.
"Mu'att Ararat, where there has
been hardly a moment’s peace since
Noah and his ark grounded upon its
Co.nslve shoulder, is at present the
huge, troubled boundary mark be
tween the Ottoman empire and Russia,
and under the shadows of the historic
peak the lighting 'ines of Osmanll and
Russian have been swaying back and
forth, never far beyond the lines of
the frontier,” begins a bulletin issued
ty the National Geographic society.
“Ararat is the hub of Armenia, of
the original home of the Haik people.
It is also the center of what has ever
been the most troubled area on earth.
Tribes of Europe and of Asia have
fought each other here from tho dawn
of history, and the remnants from the
battles have settled as neighbors, hat
Jug, despoiling, massacring one an
other.
"Ararat is one of the most impres
eive of earth’s mountains, for it rises
sheer to the clouds out of an immense
plain.
“The dominant mountain is split
into two peaks. Great and Little Ar
arat. Great Ararat rises to a height
of 17,090 feet above the level of the
sea. Little Ararat, where the boun
daries of the Ottoman empire, of Rus
sia and of Persia meet, reaches an
altitude of 12,840 feet. Though the
snow line hero is very high— l4.ooo
feet—the dome of Great Ararat is cov
ered with glitcripg fields of unbroken
white.
"A vast wealth of legend surrounds
the mountain, which has always deep
ly impressed the imaginations of the
peoples who have wandered, passed or
settled beneath it. The Armenian
priests long believed that the wonder
ful mysteries of its summit might
hover be surveyed by human eyes,
and all thought of scaling Ararat was
considered almost in the light of
sacrilege.
“The Armenians have also held that
they are the first people after the
flood, the immediate descendants of
Noah, so to speak; for the first vil
lage that Noah founded after abandon
ing the ark was Nakhitchevan. So the
Armenian thinks that his people were
the first race of men to grow up In
the world after the flood.
“The name Ararat means high.’ The
Persian name for the mountain Koh-1-
Null, means 'Noah's mountain.’ It has
been determined by the natives that
the Garden of Eden was placed in the
valley of the Araxes,
"Noah's wife was burled in this val
ley near the mountain, and grapes are
still grown there whose vines are the
direct descendants of vines planted by
Noah.”
Hertzian Waves.
Hertzian waves are electric waves,
so called from Heinrich Hertz (18G7-
1894), a German engineer and scien
tist, who first demonstrated the possi
bility of wireless telegraphy. In the
course of his investigations he dem
onstrated some new principles regard
ing the transmission of light and elec
tricity, and his premature death was
regarded as a distinct loss to science.
Wireless telegraphy is sometimes
called Hertzian telegraphy. The pres
ent Marconi method of telegraphing
without wires is by means of “Hert
zian waves,' which pass through the
ether —the medium that fills all space,
and remains after air has been ex
hausted. The apparatus generates
and transmits these waves, the exis
tence and operation of which were
first demonstrated by Hertz.
All Are on Time at Sydney.
At Sydney, Australia, any telephone
subscriber can now obtain correct
standard time by calling up the Syd
ney observatory, says the Scientific
American. If he wishes merely to
check nis watch or clock, he asks for
“Time.’ and is connected with an op
erator who reads off the correct time
to the nearest half minute from a
clock controlled by the standard clock
of the observatory. If more accurate
information be required, he asks for
“Exact time,” and is connected with
a high frequency buzzer which trans
mits the actual beats of the observa
tory clock.
Drawing to a Head.
“My dear,” remarked Crumbly, as
he opened a letter at the breakfast
table the other morning, and a mil
liners bill aroppea out, “this is the
third bonnet you have had in less than
six months, you must have bonnets
on the brain.”
•'Well,” queried Mrs. Grumble, In
nocently, "isn’t that the proper place
for them?”
Mysterious Fascination.
“Charley, dear,” said the young Mrs.
Torkins, "I don’t see why people play
poker. ’
“you don’t understand the game.”
"I’m afraid i don t. it doesn't seem
sensible to me, as you describe It.
There isn t any fun in playing for
(uo; and there certainly isn t any
noney in playing it for money.”
Too Much Realism.
Ham Lett —That s the last time 1 11
ever pass through that market.
Hill Hoard —Why, did the cabbage
try to get ahead of you?
Ham Lett — No; but the hissing ot
the geese was too realistic.
THURMONT, FREDERICK COUNTV, MD., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1915.
His Needless ;
Fears
By*
H. M. EGBERT
(Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.)
The man who gets his salary from
a distant city Uvea under the Damo
clean sword. Jenkina was no excep
tion to this rule. The leather com
pany employed agents In several
towns, and Jenkins, newly posted at
Soquah, drew his forty dollars weekly
out of the mailed letter with fear and
trembling. What it the company
should suddenly dispense with him?
Once the letter failed to arrive, and
Jenkins, who always waited for tho
cheek to pay his weekly bills, was In
despair.
To complicate matters there was
Mrs. Jenkins, a frail, weakly woman
without tho least ability to earn a
living if anything happened to her
husband. Jenkins had this possibility
upon bis mind all the time. To crown
his troubles, he was a "one-job" man.
He had been with the leather com
pany, which was a soulless concern,
since he entered their service as an
office boy thirty years before. Shy
and retiring, he did not see the ghost
of a chance to earn anything if ever
he lost his position.
No, that did not crown his troubles,
but he had another trouble mixed with
joy, the two so Interwoven that ho
did not know where one began and
the other ended. Laura, in the local
hospital, had presented him with a
boy, their first child. Jenkins had
looked in awe, and partly in fear, at
tho extremely red atom of humanity,
then at his wife's weak figure. Ho
saw the radiant happiness of mother
hood upon her face.
At such a moment most men would
Took a Silver Candlestick From the
Buffet.
have thought of anything but material
things. Hut into Jenkins' brain there
flashed an appalling thought. He re
membered that, having paid the hos
pital bill for only one week ahead, lie
had exactly twelve dollars in the
world.
Suppose tho check failed to arrive
next day!
Ho passed a sleepless night. In the
morning ho waited for the postman
with growing panic.
The usual letter from the leather
company was in his mail. Hut it was
typed instead of written by the cash
ier. Jenkins tore open the envelope,
desperately hoping to see the familiar
pink check flutter out. Instead there
came a formal notification:
"As you are by this time doubtless
aware, we have decided to discontinue
our agency In Sequah. You will there
fore close the office pending the ar
rival of our representative, who will
take charge of the stock and fixtures."
Jenkins let the letter flutter to the
floor. He put tho rest of the mall,
unopened, in his pocket, and went au
tomatically up to tho hospital, it was
always his habit to notify Laura when
any unexpected event occurred. But
when he looked at her he could not
tell her. He thrust the letters upon
the table, hardly knowing what he
was doing, kissed her with trembling
lips, and went away.
He was discharged! Fired! With
twelve dollars In the world. And next
day he must pay a second twenty-five
for his wife’s second week. He must
get thirteen dollars, then, by night
fall. He staggered into the street and
groaned.
He walked the streets all day, not
even troubling to think about closing
the office. There was money—two
hundred dollars in th'e safe. Hut that
did not tempt Jenkins. He could nev
er have robbed his employers. That
was not in him. Hut he must rob
somebody. He stood still with
clenched fists, heedless of the passers
by.
“I'll get It!” ho swore.
Then he thought of the doctor who
was going to charge him seventy live
dollars, In addition to the hospital fee.
The sleek, smug doctor, rolling in his
car, while Laura would be turned into
the streets with a week-old baby!
Jenkins’ rage flamed In a huge deluge
against the doctor. It was a fiery de-
A Family Newspaper—lndependent in Politics—Devoted to Literature, Local and General News.
lego of stark wrath that, blotleu out ail
the normal personality of the man.
Jenkins found himself a criminal.
Ho discovered, hr.enr. within h!s heart,
a fund of cunning that ho had never
suspected could exist in him. He re
called that the doctor was a bachelor,
he knew that he was at the hospital
lu the evening. lie had Been through
the open door of the consulting room
silver scattered about, the top of the
buffet. ’-Vlth one of those pieces
Laura's bill could he paid,
Jenkins resolved to act upon the
thought. At nightfall he went softly
toward tho doctor's house. He knew
that there was a hack door, always
open, except for the tlnisy screen that
covered it. He had seen that during
his visits, and remembered that, once
over th ? *ence, he could not be seen
from the windows. Fo found the
fence, scaled it, and crouched cower
ing on the other side.
Tho house was dark, except for a
single light In tho dining room. Jen
kins could see the silver even now.
It gleamed derisively upon the buffet.
His gorge rose. Ho walked steadily
toward tho back door. It stood wide
open. It was not even clasped.
Thieves were unknown, almost, in
prosperous Sequah.
Perhaps somebody was on the prem
ises, though. There must he servants.
Ho knew the doctor had a housekeep
er. Rut it was not likely that she
would he on the first floor. Jenkins
walked iii very softly and took a sil
ver candlestick from the buffet. He
knew by Dio touch that it was of pure
metal. That alone would more than
pay Laura's bill. No doubt Ire could
pawn it somewhere in town.
11 o stood irresolute, holding it in his
hands. Then, all at once, he hoard
tho front door click open. Doctor
Evans was coming in. There was still
time to escape with li is plunder
through the back. Rut fear paralyzed
Jenkins: the irresolute man had found
himself again and tho enterprising
criminal who had arisen in him. like
some Mr. Hyde, had betaken himself
to tho nether gloom from which lie
sprang.
Jenkins put down the candlestick
and sprang behind the curtains. He
heard Evans enter his office. Through
the open door he saw him sit down
at his desk. Tho doctor pulled out a
pocketbook and heaped up an im
mense idle of bills before him. Jen
kins could not see their denomination,
but ho knew that each was for five
dollars, the spoils of his few hours of
office work that day.
There must have been three hun
dred dollars there. Jenkins felt his
fury rising again. The sleek, smug
devil! Counting his money, while
Laura would bo put out of the hospital
the following day.
It did not occur to him that she
would merely be transferred to the
free ward. The man was mad at the
moment The loss of his lifelong posi
tion had bereft him of his senses. He
crept forward and watched the doctor
with parted lips. His hand, stretched
out. closed upon the candlestick.
That set a new thought running
through his head. With that candle
stick he could batter out the man's
brains. He could take the money
from the dead hand and go. None had
seen him enter, and none would see
him leave in the darkness. Money,
good money, was bettor than candle
sticks.
Three hundred dollars! Ho had
never had so much money in his life
before.
Ho clutched the candlestick In his
hand: and Just then Doctor Evans
looked up witli a start.
"Who Is there?" he called.
Jenkins put down the weapon. He
was the old man once more, the weak
man, incapable of anything but the
trained groove-moving thoughts.
Doctor Evans approached the dining
room and suddenly switched on an
electric light beside the door. It re
vealed Jenkins, standing by the buf
fet, shaking and white. The doctor
stared at him, and suddenly Jenkins
saw recognition in his eyes.
"Why, Mr. Jenkins, how long have
you been waiting for me?" he asked.
And Jenkins perceived that his de
sign was unsuspected. Doctor Evans
must have thought that the servant
had admitted him through the front
entrance.
"Were you anxious about your
wife?” he asked. “There is nothing
to worry about. She is doing very
well. And, by the way, she asked me
to give you th s. She expected you
tonight and wts sure that I would
meet you on the way nut of the hos
pital. She said It. was important, and
wanted you to know as soon as possi
ble.
And he hand* 1 Jenkins another let
ter from the leather company.
Jenkins took It and looked at the
envelope. This one was typewritten
too It could n'.-t be the check. Still,
a check was d ie. Jenkins had for
gotten that. The enve'npe was open;
Laura had read the contents.
Jenkins t(*ok out —tb chock nnd a
letter. He rtod
"Dear Mr. Jenk.as:
“We have lulled to dose our agen
cy in Seqush. Poor buslneua condi
tions, ana other t ffairs of which you
will learn on yt 'jt arrl <al here, have
caused a rwrgar Isation cf our branch
system. This requires lie services of
a superintend t will a thorough
knowledge of tb ♦ busin<sn. Will you
accept the post at a salary of five
thousand?”
Jenkins put tb • letter to his pocket
and shook hands \rlth the doctor,
“Thank yo*! I—l’m |/B,d my wife
Is out of danger ho summered, and
rushed tor the door.
“What a genu) le mar $e 's!” mur
mured the docto.* as hLi hand swept
up bis money
WORD FOR WANDERER
“VAGABOND” NOT ALTOGETHER
TO BE CONDEMNED.
Economic Problem for the Student,
but Also Mysteriously Appealing
—May Boast That He Calls
No Man Master.
We are apt to use the words vaga
bond and vagrant Interchangeably,
though there Is a degree of difference
In their meaning, says the Detroit
Free Press. The vagabond is a wan
derer, an irresponsible person without
visible means of support, preferring
the open road to an occupation be
cause of an unconventional dislike to
the embarrassment of possessions.
The vagrant is also a wanderer, but
the ejement of viciousness enters;
given opportunity he may commit a
crime. We usually lump the two to
gether as tramps, hobos, Weary Wil
lies, and are told there are about half
a million of them in our country.
Economists complain that their main
tenance costs about $100,000,000 an
nually—only $2OO apiece!—and that it
they could he made wage earners they
might enrich the community by about
$200,000,000.
The wanderer, now the vagabond
in our nomenclature, was once quite
a respectable fellow, even an honored
guest. The troubadours, the traveling
friars of medieval days, the ancient
harpists who brought their songs an 1
stories to castle and hall, Richard
Plantagenet, the poet Villon, George
Borrow, were tramps of one kind or
another. History and romance abound
in them, and we love to read of them
because of our innate fellow feeling
and sympathy.
The vagabond wanders from Some
where to Nowhere for love of the jour
ney. His real reason is that he cannot
help it, having more wanderlust in his
blood than has fallen to the share of
the majority. After all, he merely
gratifies to an unusual extent a primal
Instinct which centuries of conven
tions have not subdued in humanity.
He casts off the limitations of civiliza
tion because they cost him more than
he is willing to pay. He will pay
raeagerly and sleep uncomfortably
that he may be free. No one owns
him: he calls no man master: he is
sublimely indifferent to responsibility.
And who among us has not felt a pas
sionate desire at times to snap the
chains that bind and chafe, and live
our lives as we wish? In spito of
our respect for the exemplary virtues
wo recognize the charm of irrespon
sibility.
We like the vagabond in fiction
even if we scorn him at our back
doors, and regard him gravely as an
economic problem. The tramp is more
honest than most of us: ho despises
work and scorns the tasks we would
Impose on him. .Most of us pretend
to like it and sing Hs praises. He is,
moreover, a mysteriously appealing
figure; there is something almost
heroic in his contempt of what other
men so prize, and we wonder, if we
pause to think of him at all, what is
his story, what woman remembers him
and longs for news of him. There
is always at least one—his mother.
Liked "Musty" Ale.
Some Harvard students with a thirst
for ale as great as, or more compelling
than, their thirst for learning, fell in
a body upon a Boston taverner, de
manding “Ale!” Mine host informed
his guests, with punctilious regrets,
that the only ale he had “alas! was
musty.” This mellow suggestion ap
pealed to the callow youtns who,
smacking their lips in anticipation,
ordered “Glasses round.” These the
good man brought wth some trepida
tion, but the students, wagging their
heads like true cognoscenti, ordered
more, until closing time compelled
them to wend their uncertain ways
Cambridgoward. Returning the next
night with their ranks heavily recruit
ed, before the night was over the sons
of Harvard bad broached and emptied
the first barrel of musty “ever.” Our
boniface, equal to the emergency, or
dered from his brewer an ale made
musty in brewing—which today is no
inconsiderable commercial commodity
in the commonwealth of Massachu
setts.
Old Center of Civilization.
Prof. Marshall H. Saville, director
of the Museum of the American In
dian, New York, announces the dis
covery of an ancient city in Honduras
which was the center of a high civili
zation. Many relics were found, prin
cipally potteries, and ornaments of
stone and jade. “The remarkable fact
about the potteries and other objects, ’
said Professor Saville, “is that they
represent at least six kinds of civiliza
tion. We have not the facilities at
present to dig down 18 feet, which
seems necessary, but it is evident
there is an opportunity for vast re
search.”
No Kick Coming.
First Traveler —How do you find
business in your line?
Second Traveler —Oh* 1 have no
cause for complaint. I'm doing a rat
tling business.
First Traveler —What’s your line?
Second Traveler —I'm one of the end
men in a minstrel show.
That Was Sufficient.
Jack —That is my fiancee at the
piano. Isn't she a beauty?
Tom —She certainly is, but you
must remember that beauty is only
skin deep.
Jack—Well, what do you think I am
—a cannibal?
I The Wicked I
; Uncle ‘
I § I
! i
I !
| FRANK FILSON ■
: •
(Copyright, lUIS, by \V. U. Chapman.)
I was eleven ycsterd. y ami I have
started a diary. The first thing that
must go into It is about my wicked
uncle.
When father said, casually, to moth
er, “Ned's written that he’s coming
East to pay us a visit next week,”
mother sighed and Hung up her
hands.
“I guess ho wants some more
money, Jim,’’ she said. “At such a
time as this—"
“I'm sure Ned’s settled down and
steadied himself during these seven
years,” answered father.
“It isn’t in the man,” said mother
in a curiously constrained voice, like
liill Buffalo's after he had confessed
to the sheriff that lie stole the girl to
keep her away from his rivals, the
outlaw of the plains.
I must tell you now that while we
live in a magnificent mansion, with
four servants, wo are fast approach
ing bankruptcy. Father made some
unlucky deals on the stock exchange,
and tho war has cut off exports, so
what is a man to do? As father said
to mother yesterday, if those fellows
would give him time and his bank
would advance him only ten thousand
he could keep his head above water
and not have to take furnished rooms.
More than that, he said, if that ship
m
it comes through from Rotterdam
1 bo richer than we’ve ever been
111 l
Was.on Guard Day and Night.
in our lives before. But nobody will
trust each other in these days of de
graded politics, and there hasn't been
a man at the helm of the state worth
his salt since Grover Cleveland left
tho White House, said father.
“You’ve lent that fellow Nod at
least ten thousand,” said mother, in
tho anguished tones of Dinah, when
tho outlaw of tho plains lay dying.
“Yea,” said father. "But that was
between brothers, you know.”
‘ You’ve started him three or four
times over. You’ve put him on his
foot, and now ho can’t keep there.
And he’s coming to borrow some
more. Promise mo you won’t let him
have it.”
“The extent of my benefactions to
Ned will bo measured by chicken feed
•—dimes and nickels,” answered fath
er.
Tomorrow our wicked uncle starts
East.
Tho wicked uncle has arrived. He
is younger than father, and reminds
mo very strongly of Diamond Dick,
the Palhan’s woe, though the look
in his eyes softens at times like that
of Bill Buffalo's when Dinah refuses
to become an outlaw’s bride. Ha
shook hands with me very frankly.
Certainly I have received a not unfa
vorable impression of my father's
brother.
Mother was cool toward Ned. Ned—
that’s what ho has instructed me to
call him —confessed to mo in an after
dinner conlideuco that she always
was cool toward iiim. "I don't blame
Matilda,” he added, with a mournful
sigh. ‘‘She knows I'm no good and
never likely to bo any good in this
world.”
I laid my hand with a gentle but
significant pressure upon the wicked
uncle’s arm.
“Cheer up, Ned!” I replied. “None
of us are wholly bad. There's so
much good in the worst of us and so
much bad in the best of us, that it
ain't the job of any of us—”
“To hit ourselves on the chest of
us,’ said the wicked uncle. “Yes,
yes, 1 know. Your words are infinite
ly consoling, my dear boy. But it's
hard to bear —hard to bear!”
Next morning he had a long conver
sation with mother. I didn’t mean
to overhear the first part, but a fel
low can’t help it if he's making a boat
upstairs and people choose to hold
a conversation in the passage. Moth
er was very angry with Uncle Ned.
1 could tell that by tne tone of her
voice.
“My husband is ruined,” she was
saying. “1 want you to understand
Terms SI-00 in Advi
NO.
(hat clearly, Ned. I don't
that your visit hero is anything^HH
than one of friendship, but
man is struggling hard to
head above water, lie hasn't
hundred dollars to lend. Ho
got fifty. I’ve given up my
clothes, and we don’t even know
Charlie can go back to school ncl
term.’’ ■
My heart stopped beating. ItseemeJ
too wonderful to be true. •
“That's all I have to say to yotl
upon that subject, Ned, ’ she contlnJ
tied, as they moved away. If you r
derstand that, you are more than wv
come hero.”
"1 understand, Matilda. You al
ways did think the worst of me,’’
said Uncle Ned.
That set me thinking. What was
the purpose of uncle's visit? I knew
ho had been a desperate man in his
day. Could he have come to rob us,
and had mother suspected his designs
and uttered a friendly warning that
they would not bo tolerated?
For a day or two after that mother
trailed tho wicked uncle like a
shadow, especially when he -was with
father. As for mo, 1 repaired the old
pistol I had found in the empty room,
and was on guard day and night. I
loved Uncle Ned, but I would not suf
fer him to rob those who had be
friended him.
The mystery was explained about
a week after Ned's arrival.
Mother and I had seen him go out;
but a few minutes later he sneaked
in by (lie back way and went straight
to father in his library.
I had spotted him. A man does
not inform his womenfolk when dan
ger is imminent. I simply waited
under the stairs, the empty pistol in
my hands. I knew that Bill Buffalo
had cowed the Outlaw of the Plains
with a tobacco pipe, and I would not
Bcruplo to intimidate Uncle Ned with
an empty weapon.
I could not hear what tho men
were saying, but all at once mother
came hurriedly into the room. Her
woman's instinct, never at fault —as
Dinah knew —had told her that the
crucial moment had arrived. She went
in and loft tho door unfastened.
Her voice was angrier than I had
ever heard it before. The men cow
ered before her feminine fury.
"I know when you came here,” she
cried, ' that you were going to try to
Induce Jim to start you in life again.
Start you in life, at forty-five!"
"Only forty-three, Matilda!" said
Ned in a pained voice.
“At forty-three, then! My husband
has done more for you than any broth
er need do! And you shall not tak
his last penny in the world!"
“IXi you think I came to borrow
money, Tilly?" asked the wicked
uncle.
"I do, If I know you.”
"Why, Tilly, what an idea!” pro
tested tlio wicked uncle. "I made
my pile in Nevada last year, and I
came homo to pay back what 1 had
borrowed. But I knew a black sheep
never turned white, and I —well, my
dear, I had a little fun with you.
That's all. Hero's Jim’s twelve thou
sand four hundred and nineteen cents.
The nineteen cents 1 borrowed from
him to buy a rabbit when we were at
school together.”
Then followed a silence that might
be felt. Then I beard somebody kiss
ing somebody else.
“You’ro still tho same, Ned,’’ said
father, in an odd, choked voice.
' What pleases me best is that that
little chap will be able to go back to
school,” said Uncle Ned.
I sheathed ray weapon, I gritted my
teeth with baflled rage, and sought tho
seclusion of my lair. I hate my
wicked unde.
NECKLACE OF HUMAN FINGERS
Remarkable and Gruesome Exhibit at
Present in New National Mu
seum at Washington.
At the new National museum at
Washington there are many kinds of
necklaces, and among the most curi
ous and gruesome are three made of
human ling rs. Two are made almost
entirely of the first Joints of fingers.
Tho third is much more pretentious.
It is elaborately beaded, and hanging
stiffly from the collar of tho necklace
are eight fingers. These aro eight mid
dle fingers cut from the left hand of
hostile Indian warriors by their In
dian enemies. Tho bone was deftly
withdrawn from the fingers, the flesh
cured, and a stick, In lieu of bone,
was inserted In each finger.
Appended to tho necklace are four
or five tiny bags. This uncouth adorn
ment was a medicine necklace, and
was once the property of tho Chey
ennes and Sioux Indians. Its loss was
attended wiih groat lamentation on
the part of tho Indians. The necklace
was captured in a campaign against
Ihe Sioux and Cheyennes, In 1876-77.
In the old National museum, among
the leather goods, is a pair of boots
made from human skin. Nothing defi
nite can be learned concerning this
unusual footgear.
Preparedness.
“Ye have turned very industrious
lately, Tim,” said one Tipperary man
to another.
“That I have, bedad,” replied the
other. "I was up before the magis
trate last week for battherln' Cassidy,
and the judge tould me if I came back
on the same charge he would fine me
tin dollars.”
“Did he?” said the first speaker
"And ye’re working hard so as to kape
Sir hands oft Cassidy?”
‘Don’t ye believe it," said the Indus
trious man. “I'm working ha-r-rrd to
save up the tin dollars.”—Buffalo Cour
ier.