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for The Term of His Natural Life
By MARCUS CLARKE CHAPTER XIX. The mutineers of the Osprey had been long since given up as dead, and the story of their desperate escape had be come indistinct to the general public mind. Now that they had been captured in a remarkable manner, popular belief invested them with all sorts of strange surroundings. They had been—accord ing to report—kings over savage island ers, chiefs of lawless and ferocious pi rates, respectable married men in Java, merchants in Singapore, and swindlers in Hongkong. Their adventures had been dramatized at n theater, and the popular novelist of that day was engag ed in a work descriptive of their won drous fortunes. John Rex, the ringleader, was related, it was said, to a noble family. He had every prospect of being satisfactorily hanged, however, for even the most out spoken admirers of his skill ami courage could not but admit that he had com mitted nn offense which was death by the law. The already crowded prison was recrammed with half a dozen life sentence men, brought up from Port Arthur to identify the prisoners. Among this number was stated to be the "no torious Dawes." This statement gave fresh food for recollection and invention. It was re membered that "the notorious Dawes" ■was the absconder who had been brought nwny by Captain Frere, and who owed such fettered life as he possessed to the fact that he had nssisted Captain Frere to make the wonderful boat in which the marooned party escaped. It was remembered, also, how sullen and morose he had been on his trial five years before, and how he had laughed when the com mutation of his death sentence was an nounced to him. Miss Sylvia Vickers also received an additional share of public attention. Her romantic rescue by the heroic Frere, who was shortly to reap the reward of his de votion in the good old fashion, made her almost as famous ns the villain Dawes, or his confederate monster, John Rex. It was reported that she was to give evi dence on the trial, together with her affianced husband, they being the only two living witnesses who could speak to the facts of the mutiny. It was re ported, also, that lier lover was, nat urally, most anxious that she should not give evidence, as she was affected deep ly by the illness consequent on the suf fering she had undergone, and in a slate of pitiable mental confusion as to the whole business. These reports caus ed the court, on the day of the trial, to he crowded with spectators, and as the various particulars of the marvelous history of this double escape were de tailed, the excitement grew more intense. The aspect of the four heavily iron pris oners caused a sensation which, in that city of the ironed, was quite novel, and bets were ottered and taken as to the line of defense which they would adopt. Mr. Meekin, sitting in the body of the court, felt his religious prejudices sadly shocked by a sight of John Rex. "A per fect wild beast, my dear Miss Vickers," lie said, returning, in a pause during the examination of the convicts who had been brought to identify the prisoner, to the little room where Sylvia and her father were waiting, "lie has quite a tigerish look about him." "Poor man!" said Sylvia, with a shud der. The major tapped his fingers Impa tiently. "Come here, Poppet," he said, "and look through this door. You can see them from here, and if you do not recognize any of them, I can't see what is the use of putting you in the box." The raised dock was just opposite to the door of the room in which they were sitting, and the four manacled men, each with an armed warder behind him, were visible above the heads of th ecrowil. "No, papa," she said, with a sigh of relief; "I can't recognize them at all." As she was turning from the door, a voice from the witness box behind her made her suddenly pale, and pause to look again. The court itself appeared, at that moment, affected, for a murmur ran through it, and some official cried, "Si lence!" The notorious criminal, Rufus Dawes, the desperado of Port Arthur, the wild beast whom the newspapers had judged not fit to live, had just entered the wit ness box. He was a man of thirty, in the prime of life, with a torso whose muscular grandeur not even the ill-fit ting yellow jacket could altogether con ceal, with strong, embrowned and nerv ous hands, and upright carriage, and a pair of fierce black eyes that roamed over the court hungrily. Not all the weight of the double irons swaying from the leathern thong around his massive loins, could mar that ele gance of attitude which comes only from perfect muscular development. Not all the frowning faces bent upon him could frown an accent of respect into the con temptuous tones in which he answered to his name, "Rufus Dawes, prisoner of the crown." "Come away, my dnrling," said Vick ers, alarmed at his daughter's blanched face and eager eyes. "Wait," she said, impatiently, listen ing for the voice whose owner she could not see. "Rufus Dawes! Oh, I have heard that name before!" "You nre a prisoner of the crowu at the penal settlement of Port Arthur?" "Yes." Sylvia turned to her father with breathless Inquiry in her eyes. "Oh, papa, who is that speaking? I know the name! I know the voice!" "That is the man who was with you in the boat, dear," says Vickers, grave ly. "The prisoner." Th* eager light died out of her eyes, and in its place came a look of disap pointnient and pain. "I thought it was a good man," she said, holding by the edge of the doorway. "It sounded like a good voice." And then shep ressed her hands over her eyes and shuddered. "There, there," says Vickers, soothingly, "don't be afraid, Poppet; he can't hurt you now." The colloquy in the court went on. "T'*o you know the prisoners in the deck V' **Xes." "Who are they?" "John Rex, John Shiers, James Lesly and, and—I'm not sure about the last man." "You are not sure about the last man. Will you swear to the three others?" "I was in the chain gang at Macqua rie Harbor with them for three years." Sylvia, hearing this hideous reason for acquaintance, gave a low cry, and fell into her father's arms. "Oh, papa, take me away! I feel as if I was going to remember something ter rible!" Amidst the deep silence that prevailed the cry of the poor girl was distinctly audible in the court, and all heads turn ed to the door. In the general wonder no one noticed the change that passed over Rufus Dawes. His face flushed scarlet, great drops of sweat stood on his forehead, and his black eyes glared in the direction from whence the sound came, as though they would pierce the envious wood that separated him from the woman whose voice he had heard. Maurice Frere sprang up and pushed his way through the crowd under the bench. "What's this?" he said to Vickers, al most brutally. "What did you bring her here for? She is not wanted. I told you that." "I considered it my duty, sir," says Vickers with stately rebuke. "That ruffian Dawes frightened her," said Meekin. "A gush of recollection, poor child. There, there, calm your self. Miss Vickers. He is quite safe." "Frightened her, eh?" "Yes," said Sylvia, faintly, "he fright ened me, Maurice. I needn't stop ar.y longer, dear, need I-" "No," says Frere, the cloud passing from his face. "Major, I beg your pardon, but I was hasty. Take her home at once. This sort of thing is too much for her." And so he went back again to his place, wiping his brow, and breath ing hard, as one who had just escaped from some near peril. Rufus Dawes had remained in the same attitude until the figure of Frere. passing through the doorway, roused him. "Who is she?" he said, in a low. hoarse voice, to the constable behind him. "Miss Vickers," said the man, shortly, flinging the information at him as one might fling a bone to a dangerous dog. "Miss Vickers!" repeated the convict, still staring in a sort of bewildered agony. "They told me she was dead." The constable sniffed contemptuously at this preposterous conclusion, as who should say; "If you know all about it, animal, why did you ask?" And then, feeling that the fixed gaze of his inter rogator demanded some reply, added: "You thort she was. I've no doubt. You did your best to make her so, I've heard." The convict raised both his hands with sudden action of wrathful despair, as though he would seize the other, despite the loaded muskets, but, checking him self with sudden impulse, wheeled round to the court. "Your honor! Gentle men! I want to speak." The change in the tone of his voice, no less than the sudden loudness of teh exclamation, made the faces, hitherto bent upon the door through which Mr. Frere had passed, turn round again. To many there it seemed that the "notorious Dawes" was no longer in the box. for in place of the upright and defiant villain who stood there an Instant back was a white-faced, nervous, agitated creature, bending forward in an attitude almost of supplication, one hand grasping the rail, as though to save himself from falling, the other outstretched toward the bench. "Your honor, there lias been some dread ful mistake made. I want to explain about myself. I explained before, when first I was sent to Fort Arthur, but the letters were never forwarded by the com mandant. Of course, that's the rule, and I can't complain. I've been sent there unjustly, your honor. I made that boat, your honor. I saved the major's wife and daughter. I was the man; I did it all myself, and my liberty was sworn away by a villain who hated me. 1 thought until now that no one knew the truth, for they told me that she was dead." 11 is» rapid utterance took the court so much by surprise that no one interrupted him. "I was sentenced to death for bolting, sir. and they reprieved me because I helped them in the boat. Helped them! Why. 1 made it! She will tell you so. I nursed her. I carried her In m.v arms, I starved myself for her. She was fond of me, sir. She was, indeed. She called me 'Good Mr. 1 >awes.' " At this n coarse laugh broke out. which was instantly checked. The judge bent over to ask, "Does he mean Miss Vickers?" and in this interval Rufus Dawes, looking down into the court, saw Maurice Frere scaring up at him with terror in his eyes. "1 see you. Captain Frere, coward and liar! Fut him in the box, gentlemen, and make him tell his story. Sh e'll con tradict him, never fear. Oh. and 1 thought she was dead all this while!" The judge had got his answer from the clerk by this time. "Miss Vickers had been seriously ill, had fainted just now in the court. Her only memories of the convict who had been with her in the boat were those of terror. The sight of him just now had most, seriously af footed her. The convict himself was an inveterate liar and schemer, and his story had been already disproved by Captain Frere. Rufus Dawes, still en deavoring to speak, was chaukeij away with amidst a buzz, of remark and sur mise. The trial progressed without further incident'. » The'.defipnso set ftp by Rex was most •ingenious. He was guilty of abscotidin plead mi exc 1st» for that. His only ob jeet wn his f r«M demi, 'and. hav ng train ed it. h e liai lÄvd honestly for nearly throe ye ars. s It ci could prove. lie was charged with pir atieally seizing the Os prey, tut 1 be nrg ed that the brig ( )spre.v. having leen built by convicts at Mae quarie llarb >r. and ''tWer ici ered in any slii •ping lis t. eould not 1 lid to be "pir itica! ly scized.'kiaüi »t!u ! strict meaning of t ie erm. The com l admit ted the force of this objection, aud, iu fluenced doubtless by Captain Frere's | evidence, the fact that five years had passed since the mutiny, and that the two men most guilty had been executed in England, sentenced Rex and his three companions to transportation for life to the penal settlements of the colony. At this happy conclusion of his la- ] bors. Frere went down to comfort the girl for whose sake he had suffered Rex to escape the gallows. He found Vick ers in the garden, and at once begged him not to talk about the "business" to his daughter. "Y'ou saw how bad she was to-day, Vickers. For goodness' sake, don't make her ill again!" "My dear sir," says poor Vickers, "I won't refer to the subject. She's been very unwell ever since. Nervous and unstrung. Go in and see her." So Frere went in, and soothed the excited girl, with real sorrow at her suffering. "It's all right now. Poppet," he said to her. Don't think of it any more. Put it out of your mind, dear." "It was foolish of me, Maurice, I know, but I could not help it. The sound of—of—that man's voice seemed to bring back to me some great pity for something or some one. I don't explain what I mean, I know; but I felt that I was just on the verge of remembering a story of some great wrong, just about to hear some dreadful revelation that should make me turn from all the people whom I ought most to love. Do you un derstand ?" "I think I know what you mean." says Frere, with averted face. "But that's all nonsense, you know." "Of course," returned she. with a touch of her old childish manner of disposing of questions out of hand. "Everybody knows it's all nonsense. But then we do think such things. It seems to me that I am double, that I have lived somewhere before, and have had another life—a dream-life." "What a romantic girl you are!" said the other, dimly comprehending her meaning. "How could you have a dream-life ?" "Of course, not really. But in thought, you know. I dream such strange things now and then. I am always falling down precipices and Into cataracts, and being pushed into great caverns in enormous rocks. Horrible dreams! And, in these dreams," continued Sylvia, | "there is one strange thing. Y'ou are! always there, Maurice." "Come, that's all right," says Matt-j rice. "Ah. but not kind and good ns you j are Captain Bruin, but scowling, and. threatening, and angry, so that I am afraid of you." "But that is only in a dream, darling." | "But you looked just so to-day in the j court, Maurice, and I think that's what j made me so silly." "My darling! There! Hush—-don't cry!" But she had burst Into a passion of | sobs and tears that shook her slight fig- j ure in his arms. "Oh, Maurice. I am a wicked girl! I ! don't know my own mind. I think some -1 times I don't love you as 1 ought— y cu who have saved me and nursed me." j "There, never mind about that," mut- j tered Maurice Frere, with a sort of | choking in his throat. She grew more composed presently, and said, after a while, lifting her face:: "Tell me, Maurice, did you ever, in | those days of which you have spoken to me—when you nursed me as a little child in your arms, and fed me. and starved for me—did you ever think we should be married?" "1 don't know," says Maurice. "Why?" | "1 think you must have thought so, because—it's not vanity, dear—you would not else have been so kind and gentle and devoted." "Nonsense, Poppet!" he said, with liitt: eyes resolutely averted. "No, but you have been; and I ant very pettish, sometimes. Papa has! spoiled me. Y'ou are always affec tionate, and those worrying ways of yours, which 1 get angry at, all come from love for me, don't they?" "I hope so," said Maurice, with an unwonted moisture in his eyes. fTn T»f> • \ rcliltect ure. "What Is that splendid, tall build ing we can see above the sky line?" "That's the Iniquity Trust Com pany, built with the savings of wid ows and orphans." "And what is this little ramshackle place back of the brewery?" "Oh, that's an asylum for the wid-j ows and orphans."—Judge. Scientific VnRiirlcN, "Here they're talking a lot of non sense about some device of electricityj to keep from hanging criminals, and 1 think science might put its resources to a better use." "Yes, for example, inventing some kind of an electric arc to keep inno cent people from drowning." Balti more American. 1'lityiiilC l.rup Yi-nr. The year l'.Hlti is not a leap year, not being divisible by four, but the young er set in Washington, headed by Miss Durand, daughter of the British am bassador, litis decided to treat it as such, and will give a ball in a rented hall, to which the young men are to be escorted by them and their chaperonjs. SI roliner. Teacher—Johnny, for what is Switzerland famous? Scholar- Why—m'm—Swiss cheese. Teacher-—Oh, something grandir, more impressive, more tremendous. Scholar — Limburger? — Clevelaid Leader. A Knock. "lie wants me to buy his claim," stid the newcomer in Alaska; "says it's tie best in this district." "Huh!" snorted Cliilkoot Charie, "he's trying to throw gol il dlls t in yttr eyes. '- Philailelphi a Pro — - 1.00(1 Most "T lose people a •o vor y good, nreft they "G >od ! They're s ) good t hey wouhh't have anything in their lions e but »n uprig ht piano."—1 nltini >re ; American. - Not failure, but low lim, is crime. — j. R. Lowell. | ] f^§AN, DqMIIMGQ Unrest j| Æ /(< *' » Smntrc n jo -* \ SAN -s'* DOMINGO ß Air/ v a tort êufïr/rp sfotrj rv Ar An-9 OA pp/tnsyßvarrAy ' The Island of San Domingo is, next to Cuba, the largest of the Antilles, its urea being approximately equnl to that of the State of Pennsylvania. The Island is a tropical Switzerland, cut by half a dozen interesting mountain ranges, whose peaks reach 10,000 feet. It is the loveliest land in the world. Those whose idea of the possibility of natural beauty Is founded on knowl edge of tlie Bay of Naples, the fiords of Norway or the soft Italian lakes, would revise all their notions after a view of the Gulf of Gouave from the Sierra de la Lelle, or of the Vega Real (the Royal Plain of Columbus), from the Clbao. Nowhere else has nature contrived such jubilant and glorious panoramas or spread such mngic color. The island is a paradise. Columbus esteemed it above all lands he hnd seen in all his jourueylngs; founded his own city upon it, built his own Ironie there, named it after his father, and desired his bones to rest there— ns indeed they undoubtedly do to this day In a sealed chest in the cathedral, whose time-stained walls are still one of the chief glories of the Western Hemisphere. The natural wealth of the Island Is inestimably great. Mr. Hill, of the United States Geological Survey, de clares that no spot of earth of equal area "contains within itself so many elements of prosperity, worldly success and happiness." There are fortunes for thousands In coffee, cacao, cotton, tobacco, rubber, sugar, fruit, spices, mahogany, dyewoods, gold, silver, cop per, asphaltum, sulphur, salt, phos phates and guano. All these springs of wealth lie untouched. Time was when this island poured riches into the laps of Spain and France; to-day It lies in abject poverty, swept by the fire and sword of Intermittent civil war. The island is divided between two Bo-called nations—the "republics" of San Domingo and Haiti. San Domingo occupies much the larger and richer portion of the island. Its people are whiter than the Haitians. They speak Spanish, the language of Haiti being French. The Haitian ne gro Is simply an African savage, his country a beautiful but completely de generate land, abandoned to misery and barbarism; serpent worship and cannibalism are commonly practiced. But Uayti has four or five times the population of San Domingo. The population of San Domingo is glibly estimated, both at home and abroad, at GOO.000. Half that number would be nearer the fact. Y'ou may travel fifty miles a day through large portions of the interior and hardly see a hut or an inhabitant. The popula tion of the capital city is given as 20, 000. It would be hard work to find 12,000 people there. The bulk of these 300,000 or 400,000 people live contentedly in the most primitive fftRhlon in palm-thatched huts little different from those of cen tral Africa. The country people culti vate a few yanps and plantains, have a few pigs and chickens. The more ambitious hare little plantations of cacao or tobacco. The entire population is barefooted, and half of It naked. Naturally, the Dominican is amiable and hospitable, but he is more than half savage, aud is capable of the blackest treachery and the most utter cruelty. He is common ly not a black man, but he is never white. Ills sklu is always dark, and his hair kinky, but the latter may be yellow In color and his eyes may be blue. The**e Is no Dominican type. The population Is mongrel, and does not constitute a race. Now and then the product of the amazing mixture of ! blood is a man of unique nobility of 'physique or a girl of unchallengeable I beauty. j The chief asset of the country, from an International point of view, is the Bay of Samana, which is one of the jiost magnificent harbors in the world ind which is so situated as to be of tnormous strategic advantage. This jay may be regarded as the key of the Caribbean Sea, au-il especially eonsider ug the prospect of the Panama Canal, ,ts possession by any great power would mean the mastery of Central American waters A "republic" i» theory, San Domin go is a military despotism so far as it 1* under any government nt all. So ciety here is, in fact, feudal. Every valley harbors a chief, with a ragged band of followers, owing allegiance to k provincial chief, who, In turn, sup ports one or another presidential can late or beiomes one himself. It is a mistake to suppose that Do minican revolutions are opera-bouffe affairs. As a rule, the slaughter is Except that the leaders are to upon other tribes. They are poor shots and fire as often from the hip as from the shoulder, but they are fierce and terrible fighters, filled in battle with the blood-lust of savages, aud from time to time captains of no little mili tary genius rise among them. War In the island has horrors of its own. Every Dominican can pound with his terrible cocoamacaque and hack with his machete, whose wounds heal slowly. Rifles are universally dis tributed, and machine guns are plenty. But, though they possess all the dead ly engines of modern warfare, th* blacks know nothing of the appliances for relieving the sufferings and saving the lives of the wounded. There are no surgeons, no medicines. Fallen with a broken leg, or faint with loss of blood, the soldier Is left to suc cumb to hunger or thirst, or more like ly to be devoured by the wild hogs that Infest the forests. Recent Revolutionary History. In the turbulent politics of San Do mingo two pnrties for years have been in bitter rivalry. Since General .limi tiez met the usual fate of Dominican executives and was driven into exile, his followers have been known as the Jiminestas. Generally speaking, this is the party of the masses. In it' ranks it numbers a majority of th . illiterate. Since the fall of the Jlmlnez govern ment many of the former lieutenanti of that chieftain have remained in ex lie on Turk's Island, and from thaï barren little salt lick rising out of tui Caribbean, under the protection of th< British flag, they have maintained nr active propaganda against the admin istration of Carlos Morales, and havi been in almost constant communies tion with the other Jlminesta chief scattered through the West Indies, a: the Clyde Line steamships Cherokei and Seminole touch at Turk's Islanc on their voyages between New York and Santo Domingo. Horacio Yasquez, who also ruled San Domingo for n brief term as Presi dent, is the titular head or chieftain of the Iloracistas, the other powerful party. Enlisted In its ranks are a ma jority of the better educated Domini cans. In civil life probably the most Influential, respected and able man of that party is Emiliano Tejera, while the best soldier of the Horaeista fac tion is General Ramon Caceres, who has been the idol of his followers ever since he personally shot and killed General Ulysses Heureaux, the black tyrant, who ruled San Domingo with a rod of iron, until he went one day to seek the life of Caceres, and that en ergetic young man, having learned of the despot's purpose, "got the drop on him," and filled him full of lead at the very threshhold of the Caceres domi cile. Caceres is a brother-in-law of Hora cio Yasquez, and the brother of the latter is Francisco Leonte Yasquez, who, until last April, was the Domini can Consul General in New Y'ork, un der the Morales government. When Morales mounted to power over the heads of the old chieftains, both of the Jiminestas and Iloracistas, community of interest, for a time at least, linked the fortunes of Caceres with his, and "Ramon," as he is af fectionately called, became the Ylce President. He did not reside in the capital city of Santo Domingo, on the south coast of the island, however, but remained in the Interior city of San tiago. With his office of Vice President he also combined that of Minister of the Interior, and In his coalition with Morales his especial duty was to stand guard and hold in check the turbulent elements of the interior aud the north coast, where Dominican revolutions are bred habitually, while Morales oc cupied the capital city on the south coast, aud held the reins of active gov ernment. Demetrlo Rodriguez is the petty chief of Monte Christi. That Morales, in his present emergency, should ap parently be seeking a coalition with Rodriguez is illustrative of the exigen cies of Dominican politics, for Rodri guez was the last chief to yield to Morales' supremacy. These two fought bitterly within little more than two years. When Morales won he placat ed Rodriguez by giving to him the ad ministration of the Monte Christi cus toms house. This kept "the little firebrand" com paratively quiet until the United States, under the terms of the so-called "lando," the arbitral agreement author izing collections in the interest of the Santo Domingo Improvement Com pany's claim, was persuaded to send a cruiser to Monte Christi, and there took forcible possession of the custom house. Rodriguez, deprived of his source of revenue, again became a plot ter, and Monte Christi for months has been the center of revolutionary senti ment. Puerto Plata, on the north coast, not a long voyage from Monte Christi, is the seaport of the island city of San tiago, the Caceres stronghold, and is linked with it by a substantial rail way. A Little Lesson In Patriotism Francig Lewis, signer of the Declara tion of Independence, was born in Llandaff, Wales, and educated in the city of London. On coming of age he at once em barked to the American colonies, establishing him self in a commer cial business in New York. At the time when the colonies were in a state of unrest and war seemed the inevi table solution of . KA.Ncis lewis. the difficulties and wrongs of the colonists, Lewis, al though aware of the fact that war was certain to wreck his business and to endanger his personal interests, at once threw his lot with that of the revolutionists. He aided their deliber itions with his good business judg ment. He freely distributed his money ■So aid their cause. His own house at Whitestone, Long Island, was burned by the British and his wife imprisoned In the city. Lewis was one of the first to join the Rons of Liberty. He was a member of the New York committee in the first Continental Congress and served on several advisory bodies. He was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was commissioner of the board of admiralty and held several import ant and honorary offices under the new government. He was a man whose opinion was held in such value by his> townsmen that to his influence and! example w r as due the loyalty of many a citizen of New Y'ork. THE STORY OF SANTO DOMINGO. Area, 18.045 square miles. Population, 500,000; language, Span ish. Population, mixed race of white, In dian and African blood. Slavery introduced in 1502; abolished In 1822. Chief cities, Santo Domingo, capital^ population, 20,000; Puerto Tlata, 6,000t La Vega, 6,000; Santiago, 8,000; Sama na, 1,500. Term of President and Vice President (according to the constitution), four years. Congress, a single house of twenty four members. State religion, Roman Catholic. Municipal schools, 30; pupils, 3,000t newspapers, 8. Debt, $32,000,000 gold; annual reve nues, about $2,000,000. Products, sugar, rum. cacao, tobacco,, coffee, tropical fruits, fine woods. 1492—Island discovered by Columbus^ 1496—-Santo Domingo city founded. 1795—Spain transferred island t® F rench. 1801— French driven out by Toussaln* L'Ouverture. 1802— French reoccupied island. j 1809—-French driven out by English and entire island of Santo Domingo giv^ en to Spanish. j 1822—Revolt succeeded and the two j island governments united under Presi j dent Boyer of Hayti. j 1844—Santo Domingo republic sepa 1 rated from Hayti. j 1861—Santo Domingo republic ceded! by President Santana to Spain, j 1865—Spaniards driven out. 1870—Treaty of cession to the United ■ States rejected by the American Senate. I 1886—Gen. Ulises Heureaux elected? j President. j 1899—Heureaux assassinated by Ra mon Caceras. I 1899 to 1905—Presidents Figuero,. Jiminez, Vasquez, \Yos y Gil aud Mo I rales. ___ He Wasn't Afraid to Tr| . C. W. Raymond, Chief Justice of th United States Court of Appeals of In dian Territory, w'as a factory hand at Onarga, 111., at 90 cents a day, twenty five years ago. He resolved to become a lawyer, and made application to Henry A. Butzow, the couuty clerk of his county, for employment. The clerk wrote him that at that time he did not need any further assistance, but that the future might bring a de mand for additional help. He closed his letter as follows: "Our work ie adding, adding, adding, all day long. Did you ever try it?" Young Raymond was equal to the oc casion, and answered the clerk on a postal card, as follow's: "No, I have never tried adding, adding, adding, all day long, but I can try, try, try, and I won't fail." —Success Magazine. Not a Dorn Forger, Th* indorsement of checks Is a very simple thing, but, as the following story will show, it, too, has its diffi culties: A woman went into a bank wher* she had several times presented checks drawn to Mrs. Lucy B. Smith. This time the check was made to th* order of ..1rs. M. J. Smith—M. J. wer* her husband's initials. She explained till* to the paying teller, aud asked what ahe should do. "Oh, that is all right," he said. "Just Indorse it as it is written there." She took the check, and after much hesi tation, said, "I don't think I can make an M like that" Airy Fiction. "He has wonderful imagination," said Miss Cayenne. "But he Is not an author." "No. He tells what he is golug to do with the money he wins at th* race*."—Washington Star.