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I THE BROt ; By J A C 0 B I - "Four letters this morning?two for missus and two for marster. Then two is bills; one each apiece, an' one each apiece private. 'Ope It's money, an' 1 might 'ave a chance o' gettin' my wages. Their money box in this 'ouse seems ter be as hempty as ther larder." And Miss Polly Smutts, general, servant to Mr. and Mrs. Loveday, Paradise Villa, busied herself in putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table, Just as Mrs. Loveday entered liicr luuiia. "Good morning, Polly; breakfast ready ?" "Yes'm; such as it is. Two letters for you'm." "I thank you, Polly. Two letters; oh, how delightful?one from Aunt Sophonisba." "My Dear Niece?I crossed over from New York last week, and will come up to London and spend a few days with you, arriving about 10 o'clock. I am dying to see what you are like; you were only a baby when I saw you last in England. Your loving aunt, "Sophonisba Skinner." "How kind of her; I do hope she will like me, for she is very, very, rich, while I?oh! good gracious, what is this." "Mme. Aurelie for the tenth time begs to inclose her account, amounting to ?27, 16s 3 3-4d. Mme. Aurelie's assistant will call upon Mrs. Loveday tomorrow at 10 o'clock, with instructions not to leave Mrs Loveday's premises without the money." Oh, what shall I do? Geoffrey knows nothing of this bill, and I know he is very hard up himself," At this moment Geoffrey Loveday entered the room. "Any letters, Phyllis?" "Yes, GeofT, there's two for you, Aunt Sophonisba, from New York, is coming today, to 9tay with us for a while." "That's good. She's the one with the money, isn't she? Halloa; what's this? Adam Black?who is Adam Black?" "Isn't he the uncle your mother used to talk about, the one who left England 40 years ago. and hasn't been heard of since?" "By Jove!. I believe you are right." (Reads.) "'Have arrived in England after 40 years absence, and have just heard of your existence. Should like to see what sort of a chap you are, so will run up and spend a day or two with you. Yours, "Adam Black." "My aunt and your uncle?we shall be quite a party. I?I don't think I want any breakfast, Geoff; I am going out to do some shopping." "All right, old girl; don't mind me." "Thank goodness, she's gone before I opened this letter." "Messrs. Stumpy & Short beg to inform Mr. Geoffrey Loveday that they are sick and tired of his promises to pay their account of ?49 3s 6d and to notify him that they are about to put in an execution forthwith." "What? Horrible, horrible! A broker's man in Paradise Villa. It must not, shall not be! Where are my boots? Polly, Polly?" "Yes, sir; I'm here, sir; an' ei yer please, sir, there's a carroty?aired man wlv mutting-chop whiskers astandin' in the 'all, an' 'e ses 'e's come ter stay." "Lost, lost, all is lost! Too late! too late! Oh, Aunt Sophonlsba, and your fat legacy! Oh, Adam Black, my fat uncle?" At this moment a short, stout, redfaced man entered the room with an apologetic air. "And so, sir, this is how you do your scurvy business. Enter a man's house and take possession without a "with your leave' or 'by your leave.* But, understand me, sir, I will not be trifled with. You are here, and here I suppose you must stay. Now, listen to me, and do as you are told. My wife's aunt is coming here to spend a few days, and our fat legacy would vanish if she knew the brokers were in. I am now going to the city, to beg, borrow or steal money, and until I come back and pay you out your name is Adam Black, from Timbuctoo or anywhere, and my uncle. Do you understand? My uncle! Hush! not a word, not a whisper; here comes my wife." "Ah, Phyllis, my darling, here is my uncle. Mr. Adam Black, arrived a little l>efore his time, but none the less welcome, eh?" "Oh. certainly not. I hope we shall all spend a very happy time together. Welcome, uncle, to Paradise Villa." And to Geoffrey's horror, she threw her arms around the fat man's neck and kissed him. "Ef yer please'm, there's a female 'ooman in ther 'all wlv a ban-box, an' she ses she's come ter stay." "Oh, dear, I am lost. What can I - "* ? k... ~ ...1 ,1 UO tin: I II1USI SIC lici aim |>ivau with her, and fur the time being she must be Miss Sophonisba Skinner, my aunt, from New York. Polly, show the person up." Further thought was precluded by the entrance of an elderly female. "And, so, miss, your employer. Mine. Aurelie, has presumed to disturb the peace and quietness of this happy home by instructing you to make this your abode until I pay you. Very well, you shall have the money in a few hours; but in the meantime there are others to consider?my husband and his uncle; so please understand me, that during your stay here you are to be known as Miss Sophonisba Skinner, rnv aunt, from New York." "Why, bless the girl, I?" "Not a word; here comes my husband. Oh, Geoff, such a surprise! Here's Aunt Sophonisba, from New York." "By Jove, I am glad to see you. Welcome, aunt, welcome!" And Geoffrey, throwing his arms around the newcomer, kissed her not once, but twice. "Geoffrey! How dare you!" "Why, what's the matter. Phil? If a man can't kiss his wife's aunt, whose wife can be kiss?" "Why bless h'm, of course he can kiss me. and a bonny lad he is, too. There, my dear, take that, and that." "Oh. I can't stand this? Auntie, dear, won't you come and take your things off and rest a little?" The red-faced man entered the room and Geoffrey seized him by the LER'S MAN! } BECKMAN | i shoulders and pushed him into a chair. "Now, you sit there, you human vulture and if you dare tell anybody that your name is not Adam Black, I'll?I'll squelch you." As Geoffrey bounced out of the room the red-faced man looked after him pitifully. "Nice lunatic asylum this is! My nam*- hain? Adam Rlaok nrhv should I deny it? I've tried to explain but he won't let me say a word. There's something wrong somewhere. Halloa! Who's this? Another lunatic?" The door opened and the elderly female who had gone upstairs with Phyllis entered. Adam Black looked at her with surprise. "What? Sophonlsba!" "Adam! Well, thank goodness, there is one sane being in this house. But what are you doing here?" "Paying a visit to my nephew, Geoffrey Loveday." "And I am visiting my niece, Phyllis Loveday." "Lor'! Fancy your niece and my nephew being man and wife! Have you told 'em that we've fixed it up to get married?" "Told then>? They won't listen to anything. There's something wrong here, Adam, and we must put it right. My niece doesn't know me, and insists that I'm a woman from her dressmaker's come down to dun her for a hill" "And my nephew thinks I'm the broker's man." "But Phyllis knows you as Adam Black." "Yes; my nephew insisted upon me pretending to be myself." "Oh! this is getting mixed up. Phyllis Introduced me to Geoffrey as Sophonisba Skinner, and dared me to deceive him." "I'll tell you what it is, Sophy. Phyllis doesn't know that Geoff is expecting the broker, and Geoffrey doesn't know that Phyllis is being dunned by her dressmaker." "I believe you are right. What shall we do?" "Leave me alone with Phyllis, and I'll get her to confide in me. You tackle Geoff, and get him to confide in you. Hush! here is Phyllis now; leave us?go quickly." "Ah! little darling; back again, eh? Come and sit down with old Uncle Adam and let us have a quiet talk. Why, what's the matter? You've been crying. Come, come, tell me all about it." "Oh, uncle, I'm so unhappy! I've deceived Geoffrey"?and she told him all. "My word! Well, well, let me see what I can do. Come along to Geoffrey's den, and I'll see if I can find the money in my portmanteau." "Oh, you dear, kind uncle! I shall love you?love you forever." And in her gratitude Phyllis threw her arms around Adam's neck Just as Geoffrey entered the room. "Here, oonfound you; how dare you? Phyllis, I'm?I'm?I'm shocked!" "It is only Uncle Adam, Geoffrey, your dear old uncle." "Yes, it's only dear old uncle. Come along, Phyllis, my pet, and see what I can find for you. Little darling." "Oh! I?I shall kill him! I know I shall. I can't get the money anywhere. A nice time this is. Ah! here comes Phyllis' aunt." "Anything wrong, Geoffrey?" "Yes, everything's wrong; the broker's man is in possession." "The broker's man?" "Yes; a carroty-haired brute with porkchop whiskers." Then he told his story. "And how much does this interesting gentleman want?" "Exactly ?49 3s 6d." "Well, dear, here is a bank note for ? fiO." "By Jove, aunt, you are a trump!" "Well, surely you are going to kiss me for it?" "Rather as often as you like." And while Geoffrey was engaged In this pleasant occupation Adam Black entered with Phyllis. "Woman, there is your money; take it and begone." "Man, your money is here; take it and clear out." "Geoffrey!" "Phyllis!" "What does this mean?" asked Phyllis. "It means that this man is not my uncle, but a low broker's man. Now, pray, who is this woman?" "She?she is not my aunt, but a?a woman sent by Mme. Aurelie, my dressmaker, to collect a bill I owe her." "But she lent me ?50." "And your uncle lent me ?27 16s 3 3-4d." "What does it all mean? Perhaps you two can explain." While they were all staring at each other Polly made an exciting entry. "Oh, if yer please, sir, there's a 'ooman a-sittin' on a 'all chair with a red face, a-puffin' like a gramphorse, an' a man a-sittin' on another 'all chair as smells of heer, an' ther ooman ses brokers or no brokers she ain't a-goln' ter stir 'ithout ?27 16s 3 3-4d, and they're glarin' at each other." "Well, if you have come to your senses and will allow me to get a word in edgeways, I will do the honi <>rs. I?am Adam Black, from Canada, , and this lady?" "Is Sophonisba Skinner, from New York." "We met on the steamer coming across." "And are shortly going to be married." And so it all ended well. The Country for Roland.?"What's that on your clothes?" asked Roland's mother, brushing some gray smears on his little jacket. "That's off the sidewalk," explained Roland: "the new sidewalk in front of Mr. Gibson's place. It ain't dry yet. and you can take a stick and write your name in it as e e-easy!" Jit* ITJ nit". nauru mr* muiiiri "Did you write yours?" Koland nodded. "I spelled it right, too." he said. The mother looked out of the window and beheld old Mr. Oibson bending wrathfully over his scarred cement walk, and groaned. "This living in town," she said to Mrs. Monroe who was calling. "I'll have to move out in the country I keep telling John that we'll have to." "It's no place for children," suggested the visitor. "I should say it's not!" said Roland's mother. "Go tell Katie to put some fresh clothes on you," she said to her offspring, "and don't you leave the place until I tell you." "Day before yesterday," she said to Mrs. Monroe, "Roland and the two Davis children were putting pistol cartridges on the street car tracks and I stopped them. "A few days ago they found a can of paint and tried to paint the sign off the iceman's wagon while he was away from it, and John had to pay the man 12. "It hasn't been a- week since the children?Roland included?turned the faucet of an old-tank wagon, and it left a stream of oil over three blocks before the driver discovered it. "I'm going to the country. The city is no place for Roland."?Dallas News. ADC \AI C merAMTCMTCn? nnu TV t. wigvvn un um A British Journalist Who Says We Are Dissatisfied With Ourselves. The London National Review, after surveying the situation in this country. has reached the conclusion that the American people are discontented. It declares "Americans were never so well off as they are today, their future never appeared so bright, yet they are discontented, frightened of themselves, fearful of what fate has In store for them." It is Just possible that the Review may have sized up the situation incorrectly, although there is some warrant for Its mistake If the expressions of the press may be taken as a true index of the state of American feeling. But there is a suspicion in some quarters that the discontent in the United States is more apparent than real, and that the most of the talk is purely for the sake of talking, except when It assumes a political form, then there is another object in view. Our British contemporary says "from the tariff to the teapot nothing escapes the vigilant eye of the reformer who calls to high Heaven to witness the iniquities of the tariff or the devastations wrought by the teapot. The tariff has made the American people rich and powerful; therefore, it must be reformed. In the teapot lurk poverty and disease; therefore, it must be regulated." A writer clever enough to note idiosyncrasies of this sort ought not to take outward appearances too seriously. He ought to give us the benefit of the doubt and size up our growls at their real worth, and find In our brags a true indication of our actual feeling. For curiously enough side by side with our propensity for self-detraction and depreciation we find the old tendency to exult over material and other manifest sorts of progress. When the orator or statistician is not "doing politics" he is still calling attention to the fact that no nation in the universe is able to make as fine a snowing in every particular as the United States. Long ago the claim was conceded that the American workingman's standard of living wa." h' '.er than that of any other worker jii the globe. Recently the British board of trade gave official sanction to it, and the statej ment has gone forth from that source that no matter how much higher the .price of provisions and other things are in the United States, the American j worker gets more of them than his fellows elsewhere, and Incidentally his sayings are very much greater. If the National Review thinks the American workingman is unaware of these facts it may disabuse itself of the idea by noting that he shows no inclination to seek to better himself by emigrating to countries where things are nominally cheaper. But the knowledge of the superiority of his position does not keep him from grumbling, nor, so far as that goes does it prevent the middleman, whose opportunities to make money are not even remotely approached by the intermediaries of other countries, from finding fault with a condition for which he is held responsible by those who do not form part of the distributive system. There is nothing seriously wrong in such manifestations. Perhaps it is a good thing for the American people to keep in a state of discontent. The contented peoples are by no means to be envied. Their lots, measured by American standards, are not happy ones. Even those people who live in countries where prices are extremely low, and where the cost of living, by the exercise of the acquired virtue of frugality, can be kept down to 4 or 5 cents a day, are not regarded by our workers as models for imitation. Indeed we will have none of them, and insist that no greater disaster could happen to Americans than to be compelled by force of circumstances to cultivate the habit of contentment. The National Review doesn't accept this point of view. It seems to think that because in so many particulars the American workingmen, and for that matter other than artisans and laborers, are so much better oft than people in other countries they ought to be thankful and avoid the vice of growling. It reads a lesson to those that are misled by the chorus of growlers and tells them that "for the man who is willing to work, who has reasonable intelligence and the strength of will to practice self-denial, and whose eyes are open to his opportunities, the United States offers not only a living, but something better than that." True enough, but the American sees no reason for surrendering his right to growl even if things are all right. He surrenders to the British, and the people of other countries, the privilege of "leaving well enough alone," and insists on trying to get something better even if he incurs the risk of getting the worst of it when he makes the trial.? San Francisco Chronicle. A Swiss Charity Festival.?The annual charity festival known as "The Little Flower," on behalf of sic* and infirm children, was held a Zurich recently with extraordinary success. Over ?4,000 was collected by pretty girls who sold artificial marguerites and other flowers. Although the nominal value of each flower was about a penny it was sold for silver, gold, bank notes and even checks. One wealthy professor wrote out a check for ? 1,000, which he handed to an astonished girl, and selecting a marguerite disappeared. A tall handsome girl armed with an empty revolver, which she presented to her victims, met with great success. When the 300,000 artificial marguerites were sold out in the afternoon the girls raided the principal shops for artificial flowers, while others entered private gardens. The owners of these allowed them to pluck all the flowers, which were sold out by night. -London Daily News. If you would keep out of the undertaker's hands as long as possible. | laugh more. iUisrdlancous grading. MANY ADVENTURES. Last of Overland Stage Drivers Tells of Some Rides. Billy Hodges, the last of the band' of 100 men who undertook to blaze the trail for mall and express coaches from the western terminus of the railways at Fort Smith, Ark., into the unconquered west, is now running an elevator. in the records of the express company will be found the report of this trip of the 100. Organized in 1855, it was men umy iu uuvei au inuuu ground daily, to record the distance traveled and to establish stations, stocking them and thus paving the way for the civilization which followed at their heels. Few forts then were on the plains and while they stopped at each one for supplies and friendly chat between these widely separated Federal depots, they drove and fought and builded. They prodded on their half famished beasts while showers of Cherokee arrows whizzed above their heads and sometimes into them. They cut their way through the various "nations" of the redskins, hied slowly through the dreaded Apache Pass and forded turbulent streams in the midst of their frenzied enemies. The route laid out led them in almost a direct line for El Paso, through the rough Osage country and crossed the Arkansas river where It divides the old Pawnee nation from the land of the Osage. Skirting the territory of the Comanches, they were forced to throw up fortifications hastily to withstand the fierce attacks of the barbarous hordes. They pulled out of that country safely to encounter worse?the land of little water, alkali 1 A...*.. Vn? nrUk uuu uumy nagcui uou. ici nuu me ery of the coyote ringing In their ears they sang as they went, ending with the accomplishment of their purpose. In 1857 the completed route, well stationed and equipped, stood a monument to the work of that band. For two years they had struggled, and while their achievement was of wonderful value to east and west, few came out of the scathing well and sound. However, Billy Hodges was young and fortunate. He had made a record as a driver; he had the opportunity thrust upon him and he grasped it. He undertook to drive the mail and express route from Tucson to Pima village. The run was about one hundred miles, but extremely hazardous. Bandits were born of the rapid development of civilization and hostile Indians were everywhere. Danger was plentifully distributed and six shooters barked at silent arrows. On arriving at Pima village he released the reins to another driver, who drove to Fort Yuma and thence to Los Angeles. At Pima village Hodges received the coast mall and took it back to Tucson, where he was met by anoth er driver, who carried it further east to the station near the Apache Pass. On a day early in 1885 Billy arrived at Pima village to discover that the relay driver was long overdue. Fearing trouble, he followed the custom of driving into the other man's territory until the shadows of Apache Pass loomed before him. With him on the box was a gun messenger, and in the coach sitting with the othe^ passengers were other guards. From the pass there came the yell of the Apaches, and in an instant a horde of them were riding circles around the coach. it was the duty of gun messengers to shoot, and they shot. It was the duiy of Hodges to drive, and he drove, hashing out with his whip, he sent the leaders down an incline and successfully brought them to a stand close under the shelter of a government fort. Hven there it was precarious. The handful of soldiers were unable to cope with the swarms of redskins hovering around. The relay coach had taken shelter there, not daring to move through so hostile a country. The Indians surrounded the pass, blocking all outlets, and for eight days the small band held out and tougnc. On the eighth day Hodges realizing that if no help came soon it would mean their death said, "I'll go to Tucson." There was a protest from his associates, but before his insistence the others gave way. To go to Tucson for aid meant his passing through the zone of fire. There was scarcely any hope of getting away without being seen and the ' moon was bright and clear. The only chance lay in a dash. Then there came one to him in the dead of night and the young driver heard a soft voice murmur "Will you take me along?" It was during a lull in the intermittent firing and Hodges had almost proclaimed himself ready. The horses were harnessed to the coach, but his hand halted in the act of taking the reins. He looked down at the pleading face of a young woman, the sole passenger of the relay coach which had been delayed, and was even now detained at this fort, the driver not being daring enough to venture. "Why, Mary," exclaimed Billy, "it is impossible. I might take the responsibility of the mails and treasure, but you?no." "I must go," said the girl, her voice vibrating. "I cannot stand this any longer. Let me go, 1 beg of you." Time was running short and young Hodges was not proof against the girl's insistence. The result was that Mary Androes, setting west to join her future husband at Los Angeles, was taken on that memorable ride. That she is living today is due to the skilled driving and nerve of Billy Hodges. The long whip caught the nigh leader under the flank and the coach rattled out into the open. Instantly he was under a shower of lead and arrows and he replied by lashing wheelers and leaders, sending the coach careening down a rocky ravine. They plunged and the coach tipped dizzily throwing the girl from side to side like a ball of rags. But he held on and so did she. On one occasion the door swung open and she tore her finger nails trying to close it. With one delicate hand grasping the leather hanger she sought to catch the swinging door with the other and bring It to position. Just at this juncture the coach was tilted up hill, throwing the heavy door back securely. so the frightened girl could not budge it. To increase her terror an arrow flashed into the window and stuck ouivering Into the cushion opposite her. At last she fell in a heap to the floor. "I got through." said Hodges, with a gleam in his eyes as he told the story "but?" "The girl?' "Oh she was landed in Los Angeles all right, and married?unfortunately!" said the old man, in whom this was the first romance. Hodges came to California In 1858, continuing as a stage driver, and in time was given the famous Placervllle road. running from Sacramento through Placervllle to Virginia, City. Nev. On this road he drove the mail and express coaches and on many of the trips carried treasure amounting to $100,000. As a result he was the victim of half a dozen of the most celebrated holdups in the history of the Pacific coast. One day on the Bodie road in Nevada. between Bodie and Carson, the treasure box was laden and the coach well filled with passengers. There were guards outside and in, and a daring gun messenger was perched on the box beside the driver. The strong defence gave the passengers a sens* ui security, and one ot them, a wo tnan, started to while away the hour: uy singing. Romance was in the air. The carol ing of the girl awoke response in th< nerve ot the guarus and their gun: lay negligently upon their knees. Sud denly the concert was brought to ai abrupt halt by the resounding repor or u slug loaded shotgun. Down wen the nigh leader. The other horse: plunged and kicked and the shoci neariy unseated the driver and mes senger. Kven the highwaymen wen astonished ul the instant result of th< shot and hesitated tor the fraction o a minute and in that time the mes senger tired. One or the robbers pry ing at the lock of the treasure bo: dropped, while the other took to th< brush. fourteen times Billy Hodges wa called to "stand." He was the firs Viciun 01 me notorious diiica ooii who began his operations at a poin near Reno. Hodges was clatterinj along at a good pace when the robbei stepped out from behind a rock, point ing a double barreled shotgun at mes senger and driver." "If they shoot," cried Bart, "give them a solid volley, boys!" The guards, gazing round and abou them, saw a dozen rilie barrels peep ing out from the bushes and cheer fully held uq their hands. Later i ripple of laughter swept the state when it was learned that Black Bar had worked the neatest of bluffs, th< supposed "boys" in the underbrusl being suggested by the protrudint ends of wooden sticks fashioned t( have the appearance of genuine firearms. Again in 1883 Billy Hodge: I was held up by Black Bart and hii coach robbed. Another famed bandit who exchanged the courtesies of the roac with him was Tiburcio Vasquez, t heartless wretch, who after a lonj criminal career was captured anc hanged at San Jose in 1875. Before the interesting event, however, Vasquez Introduced himself to Hodges bj shooting a hole through his hat. On the famous Gelger Grade, aboul four miles from Virginia City, Billj faced the rifies of six bandits and the treasure box was dynamited, the robbers carrying away more than 38,000 yAftctiii lie >\aa niuppcu neat v 1151111c City. This was In 1865, and in Sli Mile Canyon, below the Gould & Curry mill. The team was forced to stoj by a barricade of old sluice boxes which the bandits had placed across the road. The five desperadoes robbed all the passengers save one, a prettj schoolma'am. The notorious John Wheeler and party undertook to stop Hodges al Robber's Bend, near the Nevada line Whether the infamous Dr. La Bari and his wife were with the gang at the time he does not know. At any rate he says, the two were under the command of Wheeler, the woman often dressing in man's clothes. Hodges was held up Ave times in one year (1882,) each time on the Senora-Milton road in California. By the beginning of 1884 he had saved up considerable money and decided to quit the highway. He had made money on the side by taking orders from ranchers, as did his associate drivers. Frequently, he said, his hat was Ailed with memoranda, embracing orders from a case of rum to a piece of blue ribbon. Hodges tells many anecdotes of the men he has known and associated with, both famous and notorious, drivers and robbers. He tells of the time when Horace Greely was making a tour of the PaclAc coast and was scheduled to make a speech at Placerville. He went aboard the stage driven by quaint Hank Monk and as he stepped in he shouted: "Mr. Monk, I must deliver a lecture in Placerville tomorrow night. Can you get me there on time?" Monk assured him that he could and started off the team along the old "corduroy" road, paved with small saplings half burled in clay. Miles and miles they went, with Monh whistling merrily and Horace Greely, the on|y other passenger bumping aDoui wunin ine roiling coacn witnout being able .to help himself in the (east. At last the dignified passengei could stand it no longer. When he had been thrown for the fortieth time against the wooden frame of the coach door he cried out: "Mr. Monk, don'l you think you are going pretty fast?" Monk let out a mouthful of tobacco juice and giving a sharp crack with the whip to the leader replied musically: "Keep your seat, Mr. Qreely; I'll get you there on time." Greely got there on time as he demanded, but the lecture was jolted clean out of him. Hodges was associated with the famous twin stage drivers, Curly Dan and Curly Perry, fearless and careful men, whose innocent deception of passengers, owing to their extreme likeness, was the cause of great hilarity, It happened that Dan would start oul with the stage in the early morning from Placerville and at midnight would arrive at the changing station, where he would give his seat on the box to his brother, likewise curly haired and featured. The passengers being asleep, they were not aware ol the exchange, and next morning when they espied a man whom they thought to be Curly Dan upon the seat they supposed he had been driving without sleep since the morning of the day before. Jerry used to have a great time convincing the curious passengers, that he was not his brother, but his brother's brother. When President Grant did a little staging in the west In 1879 there was great rivalry among the drivers as to who should handle the reins in the coach that took him from Placerville to Virginia City. Billy Hodges got the honor, which was a "plum," because of the additional money In the job. When they started out Grant looked at the frisky six horse team and then at the driver, who looked af lively and as frisky as his animals. "That's a frisky team and a frisky driver, but he's got a good eye and a white nose!" exclaimed the president. Grant marvelled at the speed With which they travelled, and the way they dashed Into Virginia City on that memorable day just suited the old warrior. He complimented Hodges on his work with the reins. Henry C. Ward, better known as Old Wardy, who graduated from stage driver to Wells-Fargo gun messenger, was often on the seat with Billy Hodges. As gunman Wardy made a record, one occasion placing him on a page of California history. The stage was held up and In the battle that followed Wardy's trigger finger was shot off his right hand. Bleeding as he was he sat there without a whimper until the robbers had secured their loot and departed. He knew the typography of the country thoroughly. and after the bandits had disappeared around the hill he stopped the stage and jumping down ran around to the left of the hill where he knew the bandits would come out on another road to divide their spoil. He got there opportunely, caught them red handed and shot them down In spite of his maimed hand. During the years from 1870 to 1884 Wells Fargo lost, incidental to robberies. $927.726.RR. There were dur inp this time 313 stage holdups, thirty-four attempted robberies and four train robberies. More than sixteen guards were killed or wounded, while more than two dozen bandits were killed, besides those sent to state prison.?St. Louis Post-Dispatch. The Same Old Children.?In a book written by Bartholomew Angllcus about 1260 one of the most amusing chapters Is on the children, of his day. Of these he writes: "They dread no perils more than beating with a rod, and they love an apple more than gold and make more sorrow and woe for the loss of an apple than for the loss of a heritage. They desire all that they see and pray and ask with voice and hand. They keep no counsel, but they tell all that they hear and see. Suddenly they laugh and suddenly they weep. Always they cry and jangle and jape; that unnethe they be still while they sleep. When they be washed of tilth, anon they detlle themselves again When their mother washeth and combeth them they kick and sprawl and put with feet and with hands and withstand with all their might." All of which sounds very modern and upto-date. SOME OF LINCOLN'S STORIES. t f Anecdotes Told by War President?His ? Love For Jokes. i All great men do not love to laugh \ but Abraham Lincoln was different. He loved to hear stories that would I make him laugh, says an exchange, t and he loved to tell them and laugh at t at them, which shows that he was not e a professional humorist. He used sto- c rles as a tonic. On one occasion a * member of congress, who took life se- ? . rlouBly, came to the White House to ? - see the president on business of na- ? ^itional imDortance. It was when the. f B clouds hung heaviest over the Union i b cause and the member was not feeling hilarious. Neither was Mr. Lincoln, for 1 that matter, but he began to tell a fun- t ny story. The member resented It, r and told the president he was there on I serious business and not to listen to funny stories. Mr. Lincoln looked 1 hurt and his sad face grew sadder. s "Sit down," he said, waving his call- s er to a chair, "sit down and let me explain. I have the very highest respect " for you and a regard not much less J than your own, i guess, for the nation r at large; but if I didn't get a chance s to laugh sometimes I'd die In my tracks. I can be as serious as you are, 1 but not all the time. Which reminds I me"?and he finished his story with c the1 approval of the serious member, f who felt better for It. "Abe" had the I story telling bug In his system and It was a benignant bug. > f Some of the stories Mr. Lincoln c 1 laughed at were not altogether fit for 1 ; publication In a family Journal. One t r of this sort had been told to him and he had laughed. A very proper friend of c : his spoke to him about it and he t [ promptly condemned the story. I "Then why did you laugh at It?" In- t . quired the friend. f 1 "I didn't," smiled Mr. Lincoln grave- t [ ly. "I laugh because I was so glad I 1 > hadn't told it." e Although Abraham Lincoln was born t I in Kentucky he was never a man who e r took liquor as a beverage. This is a f pretty sure sign that he was really and \ 1 truly great, because only the greatest t i men are able to rise above the influ- i ence of their early environment?in C i Kentucky. Once he was asked to take 1 a drink by a politician who was meet- t , ing him for the first time and he de- ? i clined on the ground that he never * drank. a "How does that happen?" inquired a I the politician in surprise. "Weren't you I born in Kentucky?" t ' "Yes," replied Mr. Lincoln, with the r ] well-known twinkle In his sad, gray ( eyes, "but you see, my friend, I never t , acquired the habit because those other 1 Kentuckians always got to the Jug be, fore I did. You know I left Kentucky I when I was quite young." f This little anecdote shows what Mr. ; Lincoln missed by moving north of the \ Mason and Dixon line. U Nearly all the papers and letters fl ! bearing the signature of Mr. Lincoln ^ 1 show that he signed his name "A. * , Lincoln." A facetious college profes- 0 i sor called his attention to this and ^ ^ added: "You are not a Lincoln, Mr. *' [ President: you are The Lincoln." I Mr. Lincoln chuckled deep down q 1 with modest enjoyment. r "That may be," he admitted, "but ' don't you think it would be rather a cheeky for me to sign It that way?" J This one is a sign that Mr. Lincoln v , was as modest as he was great. > Every great man has some personal r i weakness or other. If he didn't have 11 ; he wouldn't be human. Mr. Lincoln f , was very human and he was a bit sen- r i sitlve on the usual pronunciation of 1 his name. To a visitor who had the 8 ; custom, not unusual, of frequently 1 Iiieiiliuiiiug uitr imiur ui intr poroun iu : whom he was talking, he said. "Don't e pronounce it as though I was a sau- a | 9age. "Call it Llnkun." I Mr. Lincoln's language in ordinary ' conversation was characterized by the c same simplicity which adorned his * J speeches. ' "You never swear, Mr. President, do you?" asked a prominent Boston man ^ \ who had talked with him on several oc' ca9ions. | "Oh, I don't have to," he laughed not 8 ; loud but deep. "You know I have Stan- 8 ; ton in my cabinet." This may have been a reflection up- 8 | on the virile and vitriolic secretary of ^ war, but it was no less a delicate comr pliment. One morning Mr. Lincoln met a well preserved tramp near the White House grounds. The tramp i didn't know the president and struck i him for the loan of a dime to save ; him from immediate starvation. "You look like an able-bodied man," said the president; "why don't you ^ ' Join the army?" "They won't let me," whined the ^ , tramp. "I'll be glad enough to die for my country, sir, If they would give me ^ the chance." "Well, maybe I can be of service," * i said Mr. Lincoln, kindly. Taking an envelope and pencil from his pocket he 1 wrote a note and addressed It to the \ officer in charge of the recruiting sta- v tion near by, in 15th street. "Take ^ 1 that," he said, passing It over, "and ' give it to the officer at No. 714 15th street. If he can't do anything for you c . come back here to me, I'm Just walking around." The trnmn tnnlr it and shuffled awav. V * *~ * " " r i but he never came back; neither did he t 1 go to the recruiting office. The, note was to this effect: "Col. Fielding. The bearer Is anxious to go to the front and die for his country. Can't you give him a chance? , a- l" ; This story proves that, while some ' of the people may be fooled some of the time, and some of the people may be fooled all of the time, all of the people can't be fooled all of the time. y In his youth Lincoln ran a ferry on 3 the Ohio river at the mouth of Anderson creek. The only passenger for a whole day was being ferried over, and y to enliven the journey he told the story of Washington throwing a silver dollar 8 across the Rappahannock at Freder- a icksburg. "Well," remarked young Abraham e sadly, "he couldn't throw one across n 1 the Ohio at the mouth of Anderson unless he was doing more business than 8 1 I am, or unless he stole it." Some question has arisen as to Mr. ? Lincoln's religious opinions, but this story may put to rest all doubts about his position. A southern woman who had come to see Lincoln about her husband, who was confined in a northern prison because of his "pernicious politics," mentioned the fact that the pris- ^ oner was a religious man. "I'm glad to hear that," said Mr. Lincoln .cheerfully, and the laoy smil- ^ ed hopefully in response. Then he went on: "Because any man who wants to disrupt this Union needs all ^ the religion in sight to save him." Mr. Lincoln's love for the soldiers ( was well known and he was a frequent visitor at the hospitals in Washington. A young doctor was showing him around one afternoon to let him speak tj. 0 the men. The guide took him >ast the entrance to a large room, laying that he didn't suppose the presdent wanted to go In there as they vere "only rebels." "But I do want to go in there," said Jncoln, "and don't you call them 'reb-ils;' call them 'Johnnies.' It sounds riendlier. Would you want to be callid a 'Yank' and neglected because you lid the best you knew?" A New Yorker at the White House laid to the president that it seemed itrange that the president of the Unitid States and the president of the Conederate states should have been born n the same state. "Oh, I don't know about that," aughed Mr. Lincoln. "Those Kenucky people will tell you that they can alse most anything in their state and reckon they're mighty near right." Some one told Lincoln that a dls;ingui8hed and aristocratic southern , itatesman had referred to him In a ipeech as a "rail splitter." "Well," said Mr. Lincoln, musingly, 1 suppose there is a difference in men. some are ran spimers ana some are < latlon splitters. I think I prefer to | ipllt rails." Although Lincoln's accomplishment i n the Black Hawk war was hardly < Napoleonic, he was no coward. Some ) ine said to him as he was departing * or the front: "You are not afraid of | Slack Hawk, are you?" ] "Well, I guess not," replied the i routhful captain, proudly, "I'm no | :hlcken." Literally he was not, but | n years he wasn't much more than a t (roller. i When the civil war was practically i >ver Mr. Lincoln reeponded at once I >y an Improvement In health and splr- i ts, but he did not want to go to the i heatre on that fatal night, and not i rom any presentiment of evil. The >lay was "Our American Cousin," and i le had seen It once. It was funny i >nough and Mr. Lincoln loved funny hings, but not twice In the same place, I ?ven for company's sake. He tried to 1 ret out of going, but Mrs. Lincoln vould not permit it. She had had i roubles of her own with that theatrs i >arty from outside?Gen. and Mrs. < Irant having been called away at the < ast minute?and she did not propose j o have her own husband desert her. i 5he insisted on his going. i "All right," he said in his meek, ] (ubmissive way, when he found relistance was useless. "All right, Mary; i '11 go, but If I don't go down In his- i ory as the martyr president I miss 1 ny guess." He didn't miss his guess, but his lit- , le joke became a world tragedy. HAREM SKIRT DEAD. >aris Misses New Style of Drees From Streets. What has become of the famous larem skirt? Is It living or Is It dead? i'his question seems to be running hrough the minds of women through>ut the world. The Innovation was looted whenever It appeared publicly n the European capitals, and Paris, rhlch ordinarily becomes accustomed lulckly to the most fantastic apparel efused to accept It. The failure of the garment to appear .t the fashionable race courses on Sunday aroused wide comment. A few vomen, seeking to attract attention, ccasionally dare to wear It at a roller ink or In a box at the theater, but the nass of femlnintty avoid it, with the >osslble exception of a few of the nilder models, which It is impossible 0 distinguish from the conventional iklrt. The harem skirt Is not seen on he streets. With a view to solving the mystery is to what has become of the garment, 1 newspaper correspondent visited everal leading costumers and even lrms which tried to launch the skirt >n the market. All admitted that things lad not gone well. "The harem skirt," said M. Drecoll, was intended merely as a house gown, t was killed by enemies who put out lldeous models, and it was doubly illled by the department stores, which told cheap imitations at 30 francs ($6) ach. The worst class of women tried o wear it, and consequently the better ort Ignored It. Occasionally we sell ine for house wear, but I really beieve it is dead beyond hope of resurectlon.' t "My grandfather made and tried to aunch the harem skirt forty years .go," said John Worth, "but was unuccessful. Then, as now, the women lid not want it. It may be acceptable o the inmates of Turkish harems, who eel ine on cushions air day long and lid not go out save when veiled and loaked, but it does not go In the occl- \ lent. I consider It lifeless for the iresent, but I believe it to be probable hat it will be revived, say in two ears, when it may be successful. Certainly it is practical, If nothing Ise." "It was not intended for street rear," explained a member of the firm f Bechoff, David & Co. "A few fash- * unable women are still wearing it inloors and at receptions. My wife reently wore it at a royal reception In It. Petersburg and was much complimented. The mass of women probably rill never adopt It, but I believe that eally aristocratic women will continue o use it for ball gowns and house owns." The latest fashion freak is the "hooD \ leeve." The hoop is placed at the ^ ilddle of the forearm and its diameter s seven inches. The sleeve is drawn ?| n at the wrist and elbow.?Paris L<etr er. _ \ Bread Cast on the Waters.?When 8 he conductor came xo collect the oung lady's fare she discovered that he had left her pocketbook at the ofice where she works as stenographer. r t was a predicament not uncommon /ith city dwellers, but the rest of the * tory as told takes a new and agree* ble turn. "Why, I'm afraid I haven't any mon- 8 y with me," she said, looking very 1 luch embarrassed. The conductor said nothing, but r tood there and waited. "I guess I'll have to get off," said the 8 irl. "I have left my pocketbook at ' tie office." ? "Here, lady," said a boyish voice oniing from across the aisle. "I got a nickel I'll lend you." She looked at the boy and took the ickel. "Thank you," she said. "I'll 1 ay you back If you'll give me your ^ our name." "Don't worry 'bout that," he replied: a I'm the kid you give the half dollar 1 > las' Christmas when you seen me ?llin' papers down by the Savoy. I ^ In't forgot you. I'm sellin' papers lere yet." She smiled at him when he left the ^ ir and he was about the proudest boy i town.?Denver Times. _ tc t'4T A good many decided blondes got le decision from a druggist. tr PRIMARY ELECTION EXPEN8E8. They Should Be Paid By tho State In* stead of by Individual*. In his inaugural address Governor Hoke Smith of Georgia recommends the payment of primary election managers by the state Instead of by the candidates. We are not familiar with the system that Governor Smith proposes to change In Georgia but presume it is similar to our system in this state, where the managers of the primary elections are paid by the party oui of a fund raised by assessments on the candidates as entrance tees. It Is this system which we have recently been urging should be changed in South Carolina. The state should pay the expenses of primary elections, as It does of the general elections. In that way the primary would be open to the man of iverage financial ability, as well as to the rich man. Under the present system the rich man has every advantage; the higher the assessment the more advantage he has, and as the expenses of conducting the elections increase his advantage Increases. Some have asked us how we would regulate the matter of paying the expenses of candidates by the state, find the question is based upon a misapprehension of the proposition. It 8 not contended that the state should pay candidates' expenses in the primary campaign, no matter how large they might be, but on the contrary It s intended that these expenses and ;hese expenditures shall be limited to a reasonable amount. The most perfect primary system Is that in force n Oregon, and Senator Bourne, now coming up for re-election, proposes to submit his candidacy to the voters without the expenditure of one cent, without making any speeches or with out distributing any literature except as provided for by the state law. Yet Bourne Is a very wealthy man. It Is interesting to note the provisions of the Oregon law. In the first place, this law provides that the secretary of state shall issue i. publicity pamphlet In which each candidate Is permitted to use not to exceed four pages In setting forth the principles for which he stands and the reasons why he should be nominated. His opponents may occupy a like number of pages In opposition to him, but must sign their names to their arguments and be responsible under the libel laws of the state. Candidates are required to pay from >10 to $100 a page for this space, the amount varying with the importance of the office. A copy of this pamphlet must be mailed to every register ed voter not less than eight days prior to election. In practice, the secretary of state malls the pamphlet to the voter as soon as he registers. This law provides ample opportunity for every candidate to present his :lalm8 before the voters of his election district at a cost which will not t>ar any aspirant. It practically compels the candidate to go on record expressly as to his principles and policies and prevents his basing his campaign on local prejudices. Since the iame pamphlet goes to every section }f the state It is impossible for a candidate to make one appeal to the voter in the city and another appeal to the voter In the country. Under this law a candidate for the nomination for senator can, Senator Bourne says, state his cause fully to ill the voters of the state at a cost of (400. In the general election campaign, the secretary of state issues another pamphlet, distributed in like manner, In which each party may occupy not to exceed twenty-four pages. it $50 per page and each candidate, tour pages at $100 per page. Aside 'rom the amount expended for space n the publicity pamphlet, the Oregon law limits every candidate to an expenditure of fifteen per cent of one rear's salary in the primary campaign and ten per cent of one year's salary In the general election campaign, provided that no candidate shall be limited to less than $100. Every candidate must file a sworn Itemized statement of campaign expenditures within fifteen days after election. A similar sworn statement nust be filed within the same time by ?very person who expended or conrlbuted $50 or more In support of or n opposition to any candidate. This ast provision is eminently wise, but :he sworn statements, both by the :andldate and his supporters, should t>e filed prior to the election, as is required by your law In South Carolina iow. So far as thfy go, our laws -egulating the primaries are excellent iut they do not go far enough.?Columbia Record. WHEN ALLEN PLAYED POKER. 'Private John" Gets the Best of a Mississippi Incident. No one has ever succeeded in makng much off of "Private" John Allen >f Mississippi, who is stumping the itate in the present senatorial flgh' Lgainst former Governor Vardaman, >ays the Montgomery Advertiser. Mr. Mien is a wit, orator and statesman, rhe Vardaman supporters accused him >f having been indicted for playing >oker. Instead of denying it, the forner representative got up and said the itory was true. But to lend interest ind merriment to the discussion he rtated that he was indicted for playing >oker with a Vardaman supporter, who it that time was In the legislature. fVe yield this space to the former representative's characteristic statement: "Well, I am going to tell you the ruth about that. I am very sorry I >layed poker. I am really ashamed of t. It Is not nice to play poker. Ex>ressing It very mildly, poker Is a so ial indiscretion. It happened this vay. One night I was down at Jackion, and my room at the Hotel Edvards was right next to the railroad racks. I couldn't sleep for the noise if the trains, so I got up and wandered iround the place for a while. During ny wanderings I stumbled into a room vhere a poker game was being played, md it was being managed by a mem>er of the legislature, who acted as dr. Vardaman's floor manager during he caucus. Merely to soothe my lerves, I sat down and took a hand vith them. Some time later I received a summons to appear before the Ilnds county grand jury. They askd me if I had played poker in Jackon, and I had no better sense than to ell them the truth about It. Then hey indicted me on my own evidence, n this respect, fellow citizens, 1 differ adically from Mr. Vardaman. He was ummoned to appear at the state captol to answer questions involving his fflcial record and personal honesty, nstead of coming forward like a man nd telling the truth about it, as I did, nd making an effort to defend his onor, he disputed the authority of he man who summoned him. Poker la; !ng. as I said before, is a social ^discretion. But, bad as it is, it is not s t.ad as taking public funds and failig to account for them. In my case lost nobody's money but my own. In [r. Vardaman's case public funds ave been lost and no satisfactory exlanation of their whereabouts given." ji Now the Vardamanites wish they adn't. It is not safe to spring the rivate record of a man if you happen > have a skeleton In your own closet. strikes us that "Private John" got le best of this incident.