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gotind by a Spell 1=1 CHAPTER XXIX. Montgomery was alone. He tried to think out his situation; he found it a difficult task. He was utterly in Rod well's power. Once in the hands of the police, what would the story he could tell avail against the word of a gentle man? While thus revolving in his mind his perilous position, he took out his pipe. Searching in his waistcoat pocket for a match, he felt some smooth, hard substance. It was the locket that Mr. Porter had handed him, and which he hail entirely forgotten. His thoughts were too grave ly engaged to give any heed to it now. But in taking it out of his pocket, the better to catch hold of a match that eluded his fingers, his gaze fell upon the b ack. upon which was engraved the Initials F. R. and E. M., joined togeth er by a true lovers' knot. A cry of as tonishment burst from his lips; he took It to the window, minutely examined it, passed his hand across his eyes, as though doubting their evidence. Then, with trembling fingers, he tried for the epriag. At last he fourni it. Upon one eide was the miniature of a beautiful woman: upon the other, which had once contained another portrait, a lock of dark hair. He sank into n chair, trembling as with an ague tit, ami gazing wildly upon the miniature. Rut soon his face soft ened, tin* tears gathered iu his eyes, and Ms cliest heaved with deep sobs. He kissed the picture, and murmured words of passionate love over it. In trying for the spring, Mr. Porter had bent the case a little. As Montgomery pressed it to bis lips tiie portrait fell out and dis closed, neatly fitted at the back, a scrap of paper. There was writing upon it; but the characters were so minute that be hud great difficulty in deciphering them. At last lie read ttiese words; "The child upon whom this is found is Silas Morant, son of Francis Morant, whose portrait this is, of The Willows, Herts." For some seconds, both strength and consciousness deserted him. At first, his thoughts came back broken and confus ed. This portrait of his wife in Mr. Porter's pbssession! How came it there >—a child of whose existence lie was ig norant? Silas Morant—Silas Oarston •—and Madame Remo interested in him! Great heaven! this boy, then, whom he bail given up to his bitterest enemies, whose lifelong misery he had sealed, whom he was on the brink of consigning to an awful death, was his own son! Back upon his soul like the blast of a trumpet rushed the parting words of Madame Berne—that vengeance was "held by a higher power than that of puny man." For the first time since his childhood days, tliis hardened man of sin knelt down, mid trembling and appalled at what had been, what might have been, and what might be yet, prayed to heaven for pardon and for succor. What was to he done? If he could get clear of the house, there would lie no difficulty. Rut ho had heard Rodwell lock the door behind him. Ah, the win dow! It was a French one, opening upon a garden; it was unfastened; he could see Hie hack door before him. The next moment lie was there. Ho could not open it. "The door is looked, sir," said a voice behind him. Montgomery started, and upon look ing round saw a burly looking fellow, dressed like a groom, sitting under a tree. "Will you have tlie kindness to open it for me?" lie said, in as uncon cerned a tone us lie could assume. "Can't, sir," was the answer. "Mas ter lias left me here with the key, to see that nobody pusses out whulsom ever." For n moment, Montgomery entertain ed the desperate idea of trying a tussle for tlie key, but the powerful build of the fellow, and the thought of the noise it would create, quickly dispelled it. An other and more feasible plan crossed his brain. "Would you like to earn a dollar, my man?" he said. "1 don't mean by let ting me out of that door, or by disobey ing your master's orders. Will you take a message for me to the telegraph office close by ?" The fellow considered for a moment. "Well, I wasn't told anything about mes sages, so 1 dare say 1 can get it done for you by somebody." It was an enormous hazard to trust to this man; but it was the only chance ieft. There were writing materials In the room he had just left. Ho hastened back, and upon a sheet of paper wrote •—addressed to "Jonathan Rodwell, Mor ley's Hotel,"—the following words: "If you wish to see your granddaugh ter alive, lose not a moment in going to Manor House, Essex, John Rodwell's house." As a double security, he would send another to Row street station. The sec ond telegram ran thus: "The young girl for whose discovery a reward has been offered is at Manor House, Essex. She is in imminent dan ger—lose not a moment." He sealed these up in separate envel opes, and went back to the man. A youth, looking like a stable lad, was by his side; this was to be the messenger. No person was in Right. The lad de parted upon his errand, aud Montgom ery returned to his room. The next tiling to be thought of was his own course of action, or rather, what answer he should give to Rodwell when he returned. He must feign to assent to his diabolical proposition—a difficult task in the present agitation of his mind, but the only one. But would Rodwell implicitly trust to so sudden a conver sion ? All this time he held the portrait of his wife in his hand, never taking his gaze from off it. And amidst all these racking doubts and fears of the present there rose up images of the past—bright, beautiful, gloomy, and sad. Let us pho tograph some of these pictures, connect ing them by links ,that have dropped out of his memory, and adding many de tails of which he is ignorant. lie is one-aud-tweuty, wild, aud some O to a to is ig he a of of at no he a to to of An his my let to In to sec a A by de was to of his pho de what dissipated, but not vicious, jest returned from college to his stntely | home. Rut a great change has come oi cr that home since lie saw it last. IIis noble, loving mother is dead. Ilis father has returned to The Willows; but not alone. Two strangers—ladies—have ac companied him from Switzerland—Mad ame Berne and her daughter. It was at the house of the former that his mother resided during her Inst illness. | She is a rigid, austere fanatic, acting up in all tilings to the letter of her pro- i fessions, but denying the existence of [ any good beyond them; all virtue and all holiness are cenfined within the limits of her creed—beyond it, all is sin and death. She .has acquired a powerful ascendancy over Mr. Morant's mind, weakened ns it is by the affliction of his beloved wife's death. He has brought her home to fill the position of house keeper, and in a short time she reigns absolute and undisputed mistress over him and the household. From the moment she is first introduc ed to Edward Morant, she conceives a hatred for him. The gay, light, mischiev ous bearing, even subdued as it is now by the sorrow of his mother's death, is repulsive to her gloomy soul. There is soon open war between them. Rut Ed ward is no match for his powerful ad versary. His father, under the prose lytism of Madame Renie has become ns gloomy n fanatic ns herself; all gaiety of heart, all amusements, are sins in bis belief. The Willows soon become nil unendurable home for the young man, aud were it not for one all-powerful at traction, he would have quitted it long ago. That attraction is Frances, Madame Berne's daughter, a beautiful, melan choly girl of sixteen. He loves lier pas sionately, possibly because she is so en tirely opposite to himself; and she loves him, possibly for the same reason, in the course of time Edward prevails on Frances to consent to a clandestine mar riage. They are quietly married at a suburban church, and return to The Wil lows the same night. A fortnight afterwards, yielding to the prayers of his young wife, Edward de clares his marriage to his father. The old iiiiiii is willing to forgive the net, hut Mad une Bertie is furious. Her daugh ter shall not he delivered over to the Satanic influences of this vicious man. A terrible scene ensues. Edward's fiery temper is thoioughly aroused, and all the bitterness and hatred that have been seething in his heart hurst forth'. There is not nil insult, an epithet of loathing, that lie spares his enemy. The end of all is a father's curse, and his expulsion from the home, the doors of which lie will never darken again. He would claim his wife by force of law. but he has no home to take her to—he is penniless and an outcast. She is kent a close prisoner—he will never see her face again. Very soon ho falls into vagabondage, and, gnawed by the burning sense of the wrong that has been done him—savage ly reckless, from vagabondage he sii.ks into crime, becomes implicated, through his associates, in a robbery, and is con demned to three years' penal servitude. In the meantime, a child has been born to him, of whose existence, or prob able existence, lie is iguorant. A sad life is tU«t of the mother. Mr. Morant would have been kind and good to her, but Madame Berne cannot pardon her. In the eyes of that fanatic, she is n lost soul—-she has strayed from the paths of righteousness, and to show mercy to lier would lie to participate iu her guilt. In this daughter siie had hoped to cre ate a second self—a perpetuation of her own austere bigotry—a mirror in whose reflection she could worship her own im age. Frances' only consolation was her in fant son; Madame Berne would have de prived her even of this had not Mr. Mo rant interfered, and for once carried his point. At the end of three years the poor girl died of a lingering decline. When, at the end of his term of im prisonment, tli« unfortunate husband, now thoroughly vicious and hardened, came back to The Willows to claim Ills wife, a funeral procession stopped the way. An awful scene ensued; not even the sacred presence of the dead could check the wild tempest of passion that burst from the wretched mail's lips. He knelt down and cursed the woman the cause of all his sufferings. From that time ho was utterly lost—remorse, con science, every better feeling, were crush ed out of his nature. After the mother's death, the child— against whom Madame Berne felt a vir ulent hatred, only exceeded by that which she felt for the father—spite of a weak opposition on the part of Mr. Mo rant, was' banished to the care of n nurse. Two years afterwards the poor little unfortunate was consigned to the guardianship of the Rev. Mr. Porter. Madame Berne determined that Ed ward Morant should never know of its existence, neither should the child he made acquainted with its parentage. Be fore it left the care of the nurse a friend of the lovers, and who frequently paid a secret visit to the child, sewed up in its frock a locket containing its mother's portrait and a lock of her hair, adding thereto the scrap of writing which Mont gomery had now so strangely discov ered. The locket had been given her by poor Frances on her deathbed. It was all she could do—dared do. Slight as was the link, it might one day prove use ful to the lioy iu establishing his iden tity. • When, after his death, Mr. Morant's will was opened, Madame Berne was dis covered to have Inherited his estate and fortune; but attached was a codicil of a very recent date, making chargeable up on the same an annuity of $2,500 a year to Silas Moraut, known as Silas Cars ton. The unlocking and opening of the door aroused the dreamer, calling him back from ghosts of the past to the horrors of the future, in the person of Mr. John Rodwell, who at that moment re-entered the room. "Well, was Rodwell's first word; "do you coiu-.ut?" "Needs must," answered Montgomery as | cr | i of [ a a of of is her the n to cre her im in de his the im Ills the He the vir a Mo n the Ed its he Be in by as dis a up "do sullenly; he feared to change hla tone too suddenly. "By the bye," he added, "I am forgetting all about the Corin thian. I am due there at seven, and is is now five." "The public will certainly be deprived of your brilliant talents this evening," sneered Rodwell. "We shall start about ten. You do not suppose that I would trust you to go alone after what has passed? The night air might affect your delicate conscience if you had not a friend by your side." "But who will carry out the second part of your scheme? Who will be your messenger to your uncle?" "Would not a telegram serve the pur pose ?" Montgomery started. Was it a sliay shot? cr was he discovered? There was a dark, malicious smile' up on Ilodwell's face. "Whatever clever plots you may have been revolving in your fertile brain to overmatch me, will only rebound upon yourself. But, in the meantime, dinner is waiting for us in tiie next room. Let us eat, and lie thankful. Who knows whether we shall ever eat another? Life is so very un certain." Montgomery was not a coward, but there was something in the callous-heart ed levity of tli is man, who could thus jest upon the eve of an awful crime, that made his blood run cold. Added to which, he did not feel by any means eer-* tain that the telegram had not fallen into his hands. If so, what then? He shud dered at the thought. Before the dinner was half over, a strange, drowsy sensation began to steal over him. Ten minutes more, and he had fnllen senseless from his chair unto the floor. "Case of an overdose," said Mr. Rod well to the servant who was waiting, coolly continuing his tneal. "Lay him gently upon tiie couch, nnd then tell John to put the mare into the dog-cart. I'll drop tiie gentleman into his home as I go along. I shall drive myself, and shall not require any one with me." About 0 o'clock Montgomery, still in sensible, was lifted into the dog-cart. Mr. Rodwell took tiie reins, and drove away. Rut not in tiie direction of Cam den Town; on the contrary, lie made towards the open country, taking the same road that Montgomery had travers ed in the opposite direction a few hours before. lie stopped at a wooded, soli tary spot about half a mile off the road way, and, about three miles from the Manor House, unharnessed the mare, took out a saddle and bridle that he had concealed in the boot, and, by the light of a bull's eye lantern, put these upon lier. Then he dragged out his helpless companion, threw him across the front of the saddle, leaped into tli sat, and after casting a look at the vehicle, which was ensconced under a tree und quite hidden by tiie darkness, he galloped away. CHAPTER XXX. It was a wild night. The wind howl ed mournfully through tiie passages and corridors of tiie house down in Essex, swaying tiie shivering poplars, stripping them of their leaves, and soughing among tiie branches. Heavy masses of cloud drifted rapidly across the sky, and large drops of rain pattered occasionally upon the dry leaves. At times, the moon broke forth in fitful radiance, but only to render the succeeding darkness deeper. There was a terrible spirit abroad that night—a spirit of destruc tion on land and sen. Before the fire in his somber bedroom sat Silas Oarston, watching sadly tho flickering flames blown about by the draught that came roaring dowii the huge chimney. He was alone; the nurse had been removed, and his door securely locked. Hark and despairing were his thoughts, anil over all there hovered the spirit of the night, boding death. In the chamber above him, watching the tempestuous changes of tiie sky, with lier eyes, but not with her mind, sat Clara, sad, dreary, hopeless, at the mercy of her enemies. Siie also was a prisoner fast secured, and over lier brooded the spirit of the night, boding death. In tiie kitchen below sat two female servants cowering over tiie blazing fire, shuddering at the howling wind, and "supping full of horrors" on ghost stories. In a small room upon the same corri dor in which Clara's apartment was sit uated, sat the Rev. Mr. Porter, trying to drown dark memories and stupefy re morse, tho specters still floated upon the surface, ana the worm gnawed cease lessly. He shivered and looked around, and then crept closer to tho cheerful fire. Over him hovered tiie spirit of the night, boding death. (To bo continued.! Married Unawares. An astonishing story of involuntary marriage Is brought to England by the steamer Anversville, which has Just arrived from the Congo. Tho Belgian officials declare the In cessant risings In the Congo Free State to be due to the missionaries, and they are alleged to lose no opportunity of making things uncomfortable for these self-sacrificing evangelists. Sites for new mission buildings are refused, natives are forbidden to sell food to the missionaries, an exorbi tant tax has been put on fuel, nnd numberless petty measures of Irrita tion nre devised. Recently one of the missionaries died on an Upper River station, and, In accordance with Free Stute law, three of the dead man's colleagues—a lady and two gentlemen, who were present at the deathbed—traveled to the nearest state post to report the matter to a Belgian official. Tills official professed to be unable to speak any language but Flemish, which none of the party understood. Ho made them repeat after hlui In Flemish what they believed to be a declaration as to the cause of death, nnd then swear to it nnd sign it. A week later they discovered to the!» horror that the document they had signed was not a death return, but a marriage certificate, and that the lady, who Is over fifty, had been legally married to the younger of her two companions.—London Express. The colossal statue of Prince Bis marck being erected at Hamburg, will ue unveiled In 1000. Its height Is over oO feet, and the sword Is 30 feet long. RUSSIAN RED CROSS DOGS. The cut shows a pack of trained ambulance dogs. Their mission is to locate the wounded and to summon the ambulance men by their barking. They were bred and trained at the Forfarshire village of Carnoustie, Scot land. These animals are of mixed collie and man-hunting bloodhound types and have been found to be admirably adapted to their purpose. The Russian Red Cross organization has sent an order to Scotland for a supply of these useful creatures. to a he in the the of and the but tho the the his the the a lier fire, and sit to re the fire. the the Just In of are sell nnd to the In a had a two Bis will over BABY BROWN, TEN TIMES A MILLIONAIRE. If wealth can do it, John Nicholas Brown, 4, the heir of the Rhode Island Browns, whose wealth was fouuded as shipbuilders In the Revolutionary War, will grow to manhood in prime condition, to enjoy the $10,000,000 ho already has, and the other millions that he may Inherit. Baby * Brown is fatherless. His father, Nicholas Brown, left him $5,000,000, and an uncle $5,000,000 more, before he was three months old. lie was a delicate child. His mother and grandmother are devoting their lives and fortunes to rearing him to JOHN NICHOLAS BROWN, 4. maturity. He has three residences, a yacht, a special cook, a retinue of nurses, a personal physician, valet and other attendants. A pampered cow provides him with milk. He Is kept on specially prepared food and water, and as for clothing—well, It would take a column to list It. The greatest care Is taken to prevent him from germs. Servants change their cos tumes before going near him. Ho travels In fumigated conveyances. He has been studiously kept aloof from the least speck of the proverbial peck of dirt that every one Is supposed to absorb during life. At the age of twenty months he was obliged to take a sea voyage to Europe to save his life. At the pres ent time he is suid to be as strong and healthy as the average boy of his age. Not long ago he was present in person at the dedication of a $25,000 library willed to Brown University by his father. CURES CONSUMPTION. French Physician Makes the Claim that He Has Found the Way. Dr. Cauu, of Rouen, France, makes the positive statement that he has suc ceeded In curing tuberculosis or con sumption. His treatment has been Investigated by the American consul and the latterbears testimony^ to the efficacy" of the cures. Dr. Canu does not rely on sunbaths, out-door treatment or drugs in ills system, but effects the cure by means of electric ity. For three years be has been car rying on experiments and during that time has cured large numbers of peo ple. His first ease was received In October, 1001, and a cure was effected In the following December. From four to eight mouths, according to the »ature of the disease, Is necessary to effect a cure. The use of alcoholic drink during the period Is entirely pro hibited. According to Dr. Canu, there mt* four classes of tuberculosis and In rfl these classes the electric treatment has been successful. His patients have come from every grade of socie ty, many of them being furnished by the hospitals and by Insurance compa nies. None of them is put on a rigid diet, although the subject of food Is taken into consideration. Good, sub stantial. blood-producing foods are ad vised. Dr. Canu Is satisfied that can cer can be treated in the same way and he offers all the knowledge he possesses to any one who wishes to ^ake up the treatment of this disease ny his system of electricity. DB. CANU. TO he to at to we He ed: ed an or a is There Isn't anything very bad with any oue who bas hla host times at home. TO GET ANYTHING IN NEW YORK Average Gothamite la a Lash-Driven Slave—Be Bossy. "That the average New Yorker Is a lash-driven slave was never more for cibly brought to my attention than the other night at Coney Island," said Carstalrs. "When a man lives in the great and only town for a few years he becomes so accustomed to being bossed around by street car conduct ors, 'L' guards, policemen, janitors, and everybody else that the only way to get him to do anything Is to howl at him. "As for the Illustration: I went down to Coney with a friend Of mind who knows New Yorkers like a book. As we got aboard the train at the bridge there was a crowd, of course, and it seemed impossible for us to get through and aboard the cars. I asked two or three burly members of the community who blocked our passage particularly If they would not stand aside and let us get a chance at the cars, but they gave me the merry guf faw and pushed me back a little far ther. Here's where my friend's knowl edge of New Yorkers came in handy. He Is a small man who could not stand much show in a fight, but he has » carrying and rasping voice. Standing behind this bunch of bruisers he shout ed: " 'Ho, there, git out of the way; git out quick.' "You ought to have seen the effect. The group melted away as though grape shot had been hurled into their midst, without looking around to see who,had given the order. We got the best seats In the car., "On arriving at Coney Island we started In to take In Luna Park. The entrance was packed, and there seem ed no chance of getting our tickets for an hour. But here again my friend came to the rescue. He put his hand j on the shoulder of the man nearest us and shouted; " 'Here, you, move on, now! What d'ye mean by blocking up this pas sage? Git, now; git, I tell you, or you'll be sorry!' "The man sank trembling to the rear, anil others who heard my friend's demand faded away nnd made a long lane for us to pass through up to the ticket window. There the man sell ing admissions was inclined to pay no attention to us, as he had a hundred or more clamoring with money in their hands, but my friend gave him a look and yelled; " 'Look here, you, I want to give you a tip. I've been watching you for a week now, and I won't stand any more o' this business. Understand? The man In the window looked scared to death. Probably lie had not been doing anything out of the way, but he had the regular New York guilty con science, and immediately handed out two tickets and forgot to take our money. "As we left the grounds I heard a fair damsel whisper to her escort: " 'I don't quite recognize 'em, but I think they must be Police Commlsh Macydoo and Mayor McClellan. They're so bossy.' "—New York World. Increase in Verse Rhyming. A startling increase In occasional verse may be looked for shortly, for a new "Rhyming Dictionary" Is on the point of publication; and the rhyme often suggests the idea. Lorin La throp, the deviser of the work, is well known In Bristol as a popular and ef ficient United States consul. But there are few who know the Industry of his leisure, which has resulted In pseu donymous stories in newspapers and In cloth-covered novels. His own name is a Yorkshire one—of more than a century ago. A Small Matter. French maid (to inquiring friend)— Oui, madame Is 111, but ze doctor haf pronounce It something very trifling, very small. Friend—Oh, I am so relieved, for I was real anxious. What does the doc tor say the trouble is? French maid—Let me recall. It was something very leetle. Oh, oui, I have It now! Madame has ze small pox.—Woman's Home Companion. Fishermen of Newfoundland. The fishermen of Newfoundland pos sess the curious faculty of being able, as they say, to "smell icebergs, and thereby escape many encounters with them. Really the approach of a berg is heralded by a sudden and decided colding of the atmosphere. of to It A A woman can stand a lot until she gets In a crowded car where all the soata are occupied by men. FILIPINO 18 AN ODD TYPtL j a I a a I It I Native Is a Queer Paradox, Hla Traits Being Jumble of Oppoaitea. While there are a variety of opin ions concerning the character and ca« paclty of the Filipino, everybody will agree that he Is a bundle of contradic tions, writes William E. Curtis In the Chicago Record-Herald. He Is pas sionately attached to his home, and cannot be induced to emigrate or leave It, no matter how humble it is, yet he does nothing to improve or beautify 11 or keep It In order or add to the com forts and conveniences of living. He has no taste for decoration like the Japanese and Chinese. Any kind of a cabin of palms with leaky root and an earthen floor Is good enough for him. He asks no more than a pig or a goat or a dog, is content with a place to lie down and sleep, and it Is difficult to drive him away from the corner In which he Is in the habit «4 lying. He is devoted to his wife and his family, but will do nothing to improve their condition, make no provision for their future and wastes his wages at the gambling table when they are in need of food aud clothing. He will live on his wife's wages so long as she will support him and will let his little ones die for lack of medical ab tention. Half of the deaths in th# Philippine Islands are of children from the neglect of their parents, and yal the parents, particularly the fathers, idolize their little ones. The Filipino is a fanatic in his love of Independence, yet, as I explained to you the other day, he is willing to live In peonage. He has a hysterical emotion that he calls patriotism,. It is not what we consider a love of coum try or a desire to benefit his follow citizens, but Is a mixture of vanity, ambition, craving for power, love of parade and excitement. He will sacrifice everything for a cause; he will even lay down his life, yet he will plunder It, betray it and desert It if it does not gratify his am bition or personal whims. He Is naturally dishonest, yet he will spend his whole life in slavery to work out the debts of his ancestors. He will swindle and pilfer from his employers, yet he will defend their persons and their Interests with his life. Ho will steal from his maiter whenever he wants anything rather than ask for It, but he will not allow anyone else to rob those Interests he is looking after. Concerning his hones ty, all agree that he never will steal what he does not want, ne is not a burglar or a house breaker or a high wayman, although he sometimes be comes a ladrone for love of adventure and excitement. If he wants anything that belongs to another person he ap propriates it regardless of conse quences. VALUE OF STORE MIRROR. How It Aids in Detecting; Those Wha Are Given to Ihievlng;. "I don't believe that we could get along without that mirror at the back of the shop," said the drugggist to a customer who questioned the wisdom of expending so much money upon one big piece of plate glass. "Still, It did not save us from losing another lot of plasters the other day, now that tha plaster thieves are out of jail. "You never heard of the plaster thieves? Well, I wish I hadn't. No, It Is not that people are In special need of being plastered up, but plasters are easy things to take. You can get a good deal of value in one big flat box of plasters. There is no individual mark on them to prevent their being sold again und they are lighter and easier to carry than bottles. Plaster stealing has become a regular business. A couple of young fellows who have made us their victims several times were 'sent up' to serve a term for the offense. We know they are out again now, for they paid us a visit only the other day aud took off a few boxes In the same old way. You couldn't think we«could be caught half a dozen times, miror or no mirror, but we have been. "I was taken in the first time. Two young fellows came In and gave me a small order that took me away for a few minutes, and while I turned my back they put several boxes of plas ters under their coats and walked out with them, and I didn't know it for some time. I remembered them, how ever, and the next time I chanced to. come In just as some one else had taken a small order, but that time I was in time to keep them from taking anything. It wasn't long before they were again, however, and that time they were caught. It was the mirror that did it, for the man wh<j waited ou them was one who did not know them. But he saw a suspicious move ment, pounced upon them, made them put down half a dozen boxes and told them If they ever dared to show their faces again In the place he would throw them out. They have been lq Jail since, but now they are out ami we have suffered once more. What do you think of that for persistence and cheek? They have a regular fence for these things." At the Seashore. The Husband—I think you are get ting a little thinner, dear. The Wife—What makes you think go, James? "Why, when you go in the water 11 does not seem to rise as high as U used to."—Yonkers Statesman. On the Hoof Only. "Are you a lover of horses, Mr. New boarder?' asked the landlady. "Not cooked," replied Newboarder, trying his steak suspiciously.—Hous ton (Tex.) Post How soon a mole hÿl becomes a mountain, with the aid of a magniiier| and orrery neighborhood has one.