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THE SEA COAST ECHO.
ECHO BUILDING. BAT £T. LOUiS. .... KISS. C. KOffEAU, E-Jisr cad Proprietor Lcr.£ Dirticce Pcone No, 3. Cdbrcrl-ticn: $l5O Ter Ycir, In Advance. It Is reassuring to tne American Cultivator, to know that one-fifth of the money of the entire world is owned in this country, A Houston wife says she delights to hear her husband praise the beauty and sweetness of other women. Other wise. sneers the Houston Post, she is a woman of unquestioned veracity. ————— # If the postoflice department may ed it fiction out of newspapers and maga zines, argues the New York World, prescribe their size and shape and de termine the percentage of advertise ments, how long will it be before the blue pencils of Washington censors may be turned upon the editorial crit icism of public measures which is es sential in a free republic? The eminent and eloquent Mr. Glad stone was a great tree-chopper, and so is Representative John Wesley Gaines of Tennessee. “When you get me out. in the w’oods I am at home." he told the committee of the whole, in congress. “I have swung an axe many a day in the woods. I want to say that The great forests of this country should be preserved at least for the sons of the western homesteader to out and make for themselves happy homes in that land, Instead of being taken by the Lumber trust.” One of the great universities might create a sensation and get a vast deal of free advertising by instituting a course in good manners, pleads the Washington Star. No doubt an innova tion so revolutionary would cause dis may in many of the best-furnished homes in the land, and would present an ordeal which would severely tax (.he intelligence of many prominent collegians. The course in good man ners would have to be made compul sory, because it is not conceivable, in the light of everyday evidence, that any considerable number of college toys would enter on such a course if it were elective. Seme criticism has been heard on Mrs. Humphry Ward's use of the word “peasant,” to characterize any class cf Americans, in her interesting lec ture on “The Peasant in Literature end the Novel.” We have no such per son Lore, it is declared by the New York Mail, yet Mrs. Ward assumes his existence and cites as (be native writ ers who have best portrayed him Mary Wilkins, Sarah Jewett. Owen Wlster, Charles Egbert Craddock and George W. Cable. If the word may be used to describe a man’s previous condition, it must be admitted that we have peasants in this country, and that the peasant population is increas ing about a million a year. The bulk of our immigration comes from the peasant class, and we are glad of It, for the red blood and patient strength with which the newcomers of this estate are supposed to be endowed. The readiness of the American peo ple to adopt new ideas, together with the general diffusion of well being, has created a demand for machines in numbers not approached in any other country in the woi Id. boasts the New York Herald, and to meet that de mand the enterprise, skill and ingen uity of our manufacturers and dealers lave with unprecedented speed devel oped anew industry to tbe marvelous proportions reflected in the automo bile trade statistics. What will tho decade bring forth? Nobody be hoves that tbe last word has been said in the improvement of aiftomo l :fes for pleasure and passenger tran sit. bat there is a belief that ten years hence automobiles will be much more per.eridly In use than at present for commercial purposes, and that per sons who were tbe first to take up cutorcobiiing as a sport will by that lime be guiding flyrfig machines. Tbe practical value of the system of submarine signaling, by which the sound of bells submerged near a light house or lightship is conveyed to re ceivers plated below the water line on ships, seems to have tern splendidly c'enihastrated, to the Brooklyn Eagle, in the recent experience of the North German Lloyd p'eumship, the Kron f rir.zessin Cecilo. When passing through tbe North Fe;i. on her last tcyrpb from Bremen to this port, the Ki-onprirzesrln was em elopeJ in a ve.y dense fog just elf the dangerous Gccdwin Sstuls. The foghorn cf the ITi Ist ip. though presumed to be la good working order at the time, was i c\ c~ once 1 eard I y the officers of the ship, but at a distance computed to be it I?rst se\en miles tbe strokes of the ra’ marine be!! attached to the light ship were pit inly aadlb’e through the receiving apparatus. The ,-aoie dry another submarine bed was heprd disisktl/ at a CLtanrj of ten A SONGOF BEAUTY. - " " ***" **"* jrjlftt. Oh, tijEr me a song of beauty! I’m tired of the stressful sorifc I’m weary of all the preaching, the arguing right and wrong, dfe -SB l’n fain to forget the adder that under the leaf lies curle ?vL,ft And dream of the light and beauty that gladdens the gray old ’woi.a. Oh, sing of the emerald meadows that smile all day In the sun! _ . The ripple and-gleam of tt/o rivers ‘that on through the meadows rua. Oh. sing of the sighing branches of trees'.tn the leafy woods. And the balm for the heart that’s hidden afar In the solitudes. The birds—let them sing In your singing arid flash through the .\| nes vr ‘* te ’ The lark with his lilt in the morning, the nightingale charming the night. The butterfly over the flowers that hovers on painted wing— All these, let them brighten and lighten the beautiful song you sing 1 And let there be faces of lovers, and let there be eyes that glow. And let there be tears of gladness instead of the tears of woe. And lot there be clinging kisses of lips for a time that part. But never a tristful snadow to darken a trustful heart! Ay. sing me a song of beauty—away with songs of strife! Away with the spectre of sorrow that saddens the most of lifeh Though under the leaf the adder of death and of doom lies curled. Ah, sing, lor a space, of the bea-aty that gladdens the gray old World! —Denis A. McCarthy, in Mew Xork Sun. •; * T | The Little Pardner of Blossom Ranch | I A STORY OF LIFE IN THE WESTERN SHEEP COUNTRY | t By Boland .Ashford Phillips | j ■ i Clair, bathed in the fiery glow of the last sum ays from over the distant tree- Lops, walked uncertainly, tremulously down the short path to the gate, hands shading her eyes, and her black, un bound hair waving gently as the breeze found it. Straight ahead of her the broad, tree-crowned gully extended un til the gray-black shadows dimmed it. Stumbling down this, she made out the swaying figure of her husband. For the first time since her arrival at the ranch she became fear-strick en. She gripped at the gate-posts with her long, slender fingers and waited as the stumbling man approached. “Hugh, Hugh!' she cried, rushing mil the gate when he had topped the final slope, and slipping an arm about him. “What is the matter? Why—why. there’s blood on your shoulder —you’re trembling—Hugh—” she babbled, in coherently. The man paused, drew himself up and passed a big hand wearily acroa his begrimed mouth. “Just let me get in th;j house, Clair,” he groaned wear ily, “and I’ll feel more like talkin’." “Oh, Hugh,” she interrupted, helping him on toward the gate. “I’m so afraid —so afraid —why, your shoulder is bleeding—bad—and, oh, Hugh, was it —those sheepmen?” f He did not answer her immediately, but giddily swung between the posts of the gate and started along the path toward the slab cabin. He was a tall man, Hugh Wilson, smooth-faced, with a week’s stubble showing above the brown tint of his sun-washed face. Features well cut, eyes pleasant, hair slightly long, and curling about his ears, he was the typical cattleman of the west. Today as he staggered forward, half upheld in his wife’s arms, his eyes were bloodshot and unnatural; his face drawn, even showing the lifeless col or beneath the tan, streaked here and there with dirt and dried blood. His fbirt ripped open at the top, as if a hasty hand had jerked at it, disclosed a bronze-like neck, heavily corded,, burned by the sun and winds of the mountain lands. Clair managed to get him to a chair in the kitchen, where, after bathing his wounded shoulder, dressing it and giving him a deep drink from the dip per, she stood silently before him, folding and unfolding her hands. “It’s come,” the man groaned aloud, breaking abruptly into the silence. “The damned sheep are at the gully now. I saw them now —this afternoon —thousands of them. My God! it can’t be the end —end of everything now —not flow, after I’ve tried so hard.” Clair did not speak. Her hands fell limply to her sides, and she waited for him to continue. She had never seen him like this before. “It’s lonim row—tomorrow they come —come right down the gully —my guliy —my pastures. God, it’ll ruin them,” the man sobbed again and again. “They’ll trample every bit of green— they’ll cut it with their hoofs like so many knives, . . They told m it was to be tomorrow —tomorrow,” his eyes blazed —“they laughed at me—they laughed —God. how they laughed! I turned away—but one of them —one of the damned jeering greasers, slipped a hand to his hip. . . But I let him have it first, and he went down —down —then the others began. It’s here —here,” his fingers sought his shoulder —“two shots went through there.” The woman paused midway in a moan, clapping both hands to her eyes, as if to shut out some horrible, grip ping picture. “Hugh. Hugh.” she wavered —“my God! you didn’t—didn’t kill him —” didn’t kill him —” He laughted bitterly. “He went face down to ihe"dirt. I’m glad. . . Wom en don’t r.nderst-r-i-” Then he fell to cursing, praying, alternately, forget ting her presence. “Veil’d better —better get to bed, Hugh,” she faltered, gathering cour age; and, to her surprise, he obeyed, childlike. She helped him to undress after lighting the candles, and when he was at lost under tho sheets she brought him some soup she had saved for supper. He gulped it down eagerly, with sadden, audible swallows. It seemed to strengthen him, momentar ily. He called her. ’Clair.” he began, gravely, weakly, “I want you to understand —every- thing. 1 know you're scared, but —they are goin’ to drive the ship through our gully at dawn. It s the shortest way to (he railroad. Ten thousand tueep, Clair, and my pastured will bo tram pled down, eaten to the very roots. There won’t be any Blossom Ranch — when the pastures are gone. The cat tle —our cattle — all of them will starve.” Ke tossed wearily. Clair pat hpr hand to his forehead, brushing back the damp hair. “They’re John son’s sheep— the big Sam Johnson Company— and they don’t care for us. or our rights. There ain’t no law that’ll touch-them; and we’re got to stop them in the morning—even—even If—” “Hugh. Hugh.” she broke l.n hoarse ly, realizing that the man was yander ing. delirious; but he did not seem to hear her. “Eefqre dawn—before dawn,” he re Seated. “Lai coin’ to the gully—mouth —it’s narrow there —I can hold them back —I can —by heaven, I’ve got to!” The woman clapped a hand to his mouth, trembling at his maddned words, but he jered it away brutally. “God!” he cried, raising to an elbow — “for a man—a brave pardner. Two of us could keep them back. Clair — Clair,” he moaned, “if you was only a man —a pardner—if you could help me —be careful, Clair,” his words sank, whisperlike, “be careful tonight—don’t let any one in—lock the doors —they might come —come to hang me—” his voice trailed off into sflence. Clair took in a deep, trembling breath. What was she to do? What could she and poor, frightened wom an? She came to her feet and quietly looked the door. The only sounds were the continual yapping coyotes, high pitched in the clear air. Suppose the men should come —suppose they should —and he had killed a man? She knew what justice was here. Involuntarily she shuddered and tiptoed hack into the little bedroom. Twice she listened before she could convince herself that the sudden noise was the rapid beat of hoofs to the road. After that she arose quietly and slipped noiseless across the floor out into the kitchen, closing the door soft ly behind her. A man was dismounting at the gate. A tall, hugely-built man he appeared to her startled eyes; and after the horse was tied he sauntered calmly up the path to the door. Expectantly Clair waited for the knock. It came, but she swayed perilously near to faint ing when it pounded. What should she do? Hugh was not capable of aiding or advising her. It seemed better that she should remain quiet and refuse to answer the knock —but Hugh had called her —cowardly —a weak woman. If a man could be his pardner, why couldn’t she herself— his own wife? Mutely and with tight-set lips she crossed the floor to the chair, fumbled among her husband’s clothes and found his six-shooter. It was almost too heavy for her thin fingers, and the touch of cold steel unconsciously made her shudder. The knock sounded again and louder. At first she was minded to shoot through the door, but the thought of cowardice sickened her. Again the knock. With a sudden-born impulse she strode boldly across the floor, unlocked the door, opened it fearlessly, and con fronted the stranger. He surprised her by removing his hat, and his voice was remarkably soft and kind, “If I might trouble yon for a bit,” he began, in response to her question—“if I might get a bite to eat —l’ll pay you well for the trouble.” The plau that leaped unbidden to her brain was a monstrous one; she was amazed at her own daring. “Come in,” she said quietly, pushing the door wide. “Sit down here till I get a light.” The man entered and sat In the chair by the door while she tip toed into the bedroom, noted that her husband was fast asleep, found the candle and came out again. In the glare of the flickering light she saw the stranger’s face to be very white and thin, and it immediately flashed to her that he had not been in the country a great while. His hands, too were well kept and smooth, and the sun had not burned them. She brought out something to eat, spread it on the rough pine table, hnd watched eagerly, intently as he ate. “You’re —you’re a stranger about here aren’t you?” she ventured, pres ently, her knees swaying at the sound of her own voice, strangely out of pitch. “Yes,” he nodded, “this is my first visit here.” ’ She started nervously and gripped at the big six-shooter she had hidden in the folds of her skirts. “You —you have business hereabouts?” she'queried tremulously. He wiped his Ups and pushed back bis chair, smiling. “Yes,” he answered, pleasantly; “I — that is—we. are interested in—” “Sheep?” He glanced up at her curiously. “Yes, that’s my business —our business,” he spoke quietly, pulling a purse from his pocket and sorting among the silver coins. Clair’s head swam. Her fingers gripped so tight about the pistol butt that they ached. She thought she was beginning to understand things now as they actually were. This was a sheepttmn here—eating at her own table, of her own food. Perhaps others were behind him —perhaps he had ask ed for food to gain entrance to the house. Why, even now there might be a dozen men surrounding th* cabin, ready to break in—to seize Hugh—to hang nina— “How much do I owe you?” the man interrupted her flow of thoughts. She started guiltily, her breast rising and faHing convulsively. “We —we don’t take money from stiakin’ sheepmen,” she stammered. “Now, yon just sit down there till I tell you to move.” She brought the pistol from her skirt andi shoved it grimly Into the man’s astonished face. “Just sit there and don’t move—’cause if you don’t —I’ll shoot you down.” A smifeAwltched about the startler man’s lip|rW' : fce did not attempt tc disobey hep. ||e eat very stiffly before iim ©n the P’-ne table, and waited fit? whatever might come, “We don’t fcave milch sympathy foi a ebeepman around these parts,” Clair began, putting the gun to the table, muzzle toward the stranger, “and I thought you one of them from the first. Guess you’re from the herd al the gully, ain’t you?” “I was headed that way,” he an swered, nodding.- “I suppose you’re after my husband you and your men, eh? because he shot one of the herders last night.” The man cleared his throat. “I do not understand at all,” he admitted. “ Ido not want your husband. And if he killed one of the greasers they prob ably deserved it.” Clair stared at him bewilderedly. Her eyes searched his. “Can't you trust me?” he went on, smiling. “Can’t you rely on what I say? I’m not here to harm you.” “But—but—” she faltered, “Hugh said —said they were to drive the sheep I through our gully at dawn and—and it means our ruin —we —I—” she broke off chokingly. The stranger smiled and reached over his hand to cover the gun; but she | saw and instinctively leaped back, pointing the pistol full at his eyes, and pulling the trigger wildly—one two, three, four, five times. No report came, and she swayed forward, dimly conscious that it was the stranger's arms that upheld her, and realizing that the gun had not been loaded. The man was tenderly bathing her face when she fluttered open her eyes again. The water felt cool to her head and she sighed contentedly. The can dle struggled frantically to light the kitchen. “You’re a valiant little woman,” the man was saying, smiling down into her eyes. Then she remembered and sat bolt upright in the chair. “I —I might have killed you,” she fal tered. He laughed softly for the first time. “I’m glad—wlad that you didn’t suc ceed,” he said. “But—but—he —my husband—” she interrupted in dismay—“you must go before he —he awakens.” “I have been in the bedroom,” the stranger replied, “and he is sleeping easily. Ido not think his wound a par ticularly dangerous one, but he should be kept quiet for a few days. “Then—then I must go in his place,” she responded, struggling to ker feet. “Go? You —where?’ he questioned. “Why—why, to the gully,” she ex plained. “I can shoot. I’ve got to— everything depeads—depends upon me now. Hugh and me —are pardners,” she faltered, lifting her eyes to his and smiling bravely. The man frowned and walked silently to the window, hands behind him. “They told you the sheep would start at sunrise?” he came back to where she stood quietly. “Yes, at sunrise. I —l was to call him—” “Why should they drive through your land?” he furthered. “It’s the nearest way to the rail road,” she observed. “The Johnson Company don’t care for us—and there ain’t no law that can touch them either,” she complained bitterly, “ ’cept —’cept this —” and she tapped the six shooter. “Hugh says that’s the only way to stop them.” “But that —that would be murder,’ he safd, not moving from in front of her. “Yes,” she nodded grimly, “but I reckon it’s murder either way.” He turned to walk again to the win dow, but paused midway and came back his eyes twinkling. “And you— you would go out there alone —to the gully?” he asked incredibly. She turned from his gaze. .Somehow the tears would come and they shamed her. “Hugh said last night,” she be gan, “that he wanted a pardner. . . Don’t they have —have woman pard ners?” she asked, turning hopefully up on the stranger. “Yes,” he said softly, for he must have understood. “Yes, indeed. . . But, you—ryou’re not going out there. Promise me that you will not.” “No, no, no,” she broke in. “I’ve got to protect the—the ranch —it’s all we’ve got—all.” He looked searchingly into her tear-filled eyes. “You’re a brave little pardner,” he said gravely. “But you mustn't go. I’ll see that they do not come through.” “You?” she gasped —“you?’ He nodded calmly. “Yes. I kn>w you will trust me this lime. . . you must.” For a pregnant space they faced one another—the valiant little pardner and the sheepman. ‘Til. trust you,” she said, after the iril&nce. “Thank you,” he made answer. “I suppose I’d best be going before —be- fore sunup.” He started for the door, but she cr.me between and put out a hand to his arm. “You —you haven’t a gun,” she cau tioned. “I do not need any,” he.told her sim ply. “The sheep are my own.” She felt her body growing cold, and gripped at the table edge to keep from falling again. “\ou —you—you're —” she stammered, but he took the words from her lips. “Yes, I’m Johnson. I'm not half so bad as they make me out to be. Am I?” Clair made an attempt to answer, but her tongue felt dry and lifeless. He continued; “I'll never forget you. little pardner, nor Blossom Ranch, nor this nights adventure.” He reached to his coat pocket. “And, now that you won’t take any money for your meal, I’ll of fer you this—” he brought out a small card—“this card. . . Wait—” he wrote something on the back of it, then held it. out. . Mechanically she took the bit of cardboard In her tremulous fingers, too dazed to reply to his good-night. When he had gone, and the hoof beats died away, and the first streaks of yellow came along the distant hori zon of tree-tops, she brought the car i to her face and read what he had writ ten on the back of it: “The pardners of Blossom Ranch are never to be molested by any sheepmen under my employ. “(Signed) SAM JOHNSOM® —From The Home Magazine. fill FROM PILOT TO “SAMURAI." Money is being raised in Japan to restore the monument of Will Adams, the first English resident of that country and the founder of the Jap anese fleet. No fiction of adventure is more romantic and seemingly im probable than is the story of this Kentish pilot of the seventeenth cen tury. Mr. Lafcadio Hearn, in one of his books on Japan, tells the tale of the young Englishman’s rise to for tune. In 1600 Will Adams arrived in Japan in command of a Dutch ship. Adams had partaken of many a sea adventure, and had probably been brought in contact with Hawkins, Drake, Sir Richard Grenville and the other celebrated voyagers of that day. He says himself, in his account of his life, that he “served for Master and Pilott in her Majestie’s ships.” On landing in Japan, Adame was taken prisoner and sent to Osaka to the great Emperor lyesyasu. “As soon as I came before him he demanded of what conntrey we were,” says Adams. “So I answered him on all points. He asked whether our country had warres. I answered him yea. He asked as to the way we came to the countrey. Having a chart of the whole world I showed him through the Straight of Magelan. He viewed me well and seemed to be wonderful favorable.” The Emperor attached Adams to his personal service, and later we read of the late pilot teaching his royal master “jeometry and under standing of the art of mathematicks.” Adams wa? well provided for, and commanded to build ships for deep sea sailing. Before long he was cre ated Samurai, and an estate was given him. Surely no romance of that romantic age was stranger than the rise of this plain English pilot, with only his simple honesty’ and common sense to help him. He was in such extra ordinary favor with the greatest and shrewdest of Japanese rulers that we read in a contemporary account: “The Emperor esteemeth hym much, and he may goe in and speake to hym at all times when Kynges and Princes are kept out.” Adams’ only cause for regret in his elevation to fortune was the fact' that he was never allowed to visit his na tive land. His services were regard ed as too precious to he spared. The Emperor never refused him anything but this one privilege, and Adams did not dare to urge the matter too hard, for, as he writes, “When I asked one too many times the Quid Em perour was silent.” ALIVE IN CAPSIZED VESSELS. A striking example of one among the many strange accidents that be fall sailors was reported the other day from Newcastle, New South Wales The barkentine Kate Tatham turned turtle in a gale, and one of her crew was shut up in her hold. The survivors, who had climbed on her keel as she heeled over, naturally took it for granted that he was drowned. What was their surprise therefore presently to hear faint knockings from beneath their feet, evidently made by their imprisoned comrade. Help was at hand, and a hole was cut through the ship's bottom, when the man was hauled out, little the worse for his terrible experience. He had, it appeared, been kept alive by the air which had been imprisoned in the hull when the vessel capsized and which, becoming compressed as the water rose, had eventually stepped its further encroachment. He had used a balk of floating timber to support himself. His imprisonment lasted for two hours, and in the cabled reports sent to this country the incident is char acterized as unparalleled. This, how ever, is by no means correct. There are several cases on record of men having lived in similar circumstances in the huks of capsized ships not hours only but days, the most re markable authenticated instance be ing that of Captain Engallandt, of the Erndte, who was rescued alive after a*i entombment lasting altogether eleven days eighteen hours. During this period the derelict, drifting bottom uppermost, was'sight ed by the masters of several vessels, all of w r hom, however, passed non chalantly by, none imagining for a moment that the serai-submerged and capsized hulk contained, 3hutup in its vitals, a living man. Eventually the Erndte drifted ashore near Danzig, and Captain En gallandt was taken out alive, al though greatly* emaciated. —Pearson’s Weekly, AN AVERTED TRAGEDY. The family had six black cats, all />f which lined up daily on the back porch, expecting food and getting It, says a writfer in the Washington Star. Then after a while mother began to say sh£ did wish that she could get rid of a few cats. Father said he should think she would, too, and asked, why she did not chloroform them He explained that it was a painless - sleep, and a method ap proved by the Society for the' Pre ventive of Cruelty to Animals. Grandmother said she had redd in the newspapers that the society used gag in an air-tight chamber, but, any how, it was humane. Uncle Nat. said he never saw so' many cats in'hia life, and that he was always stepping on one whenever he put his foot down. Aunt Caroline said she hated cats; but one could get used to anything, even cats; Susan, the colored cook, said she was going to leave If some of those cats didn’t; that there never was a crumb of anything to eat in the house after those hollow cats bad been fiiled upi and why didn’t they hu&t their living like other cats?** - Then one day mother asked XTncTe .Nat to get a bottle of chloroform at the druggist’s, which she left on the amntel-shelf in plain sight. Father asked, where the bottle oJ <&lorbfom came from, and what It was for? Grandmother said it was very careless of some one to leaye a bottle of chloroform round like that where any one could get it. Aunt Gasoline asked who was go ing to use the chloroform. Uncle Nat said he was willing tc buy It, and had done his part, and II any one thought he was going to kill cats with it he was mistaken. The day was Thursday, Susan’s day out. The family had gone for a drive all except mother, who had a motive in remaining at home. It was now or never. With the light of resolu tion in her eye and her lips pressed firmly together, with a bottle and sponge in one hand and cats in her apron, she started for the barn. Pursing her lips more tightly still, she gathered up more cats as she went. Then she shat all she had in an empty box, which was to serve as an execution chamber, and went in search of more cars. Two more were added; none was spared. The sponge was saturated and thrust into the box, and the executioner fled to the house without once looking back. When father came home and found what had been done he was amazed. He wouldn’t have lost the cat named Punch for anything, and he had al ways regarded Punch as his own cat, and Punch was a first-class ratter. Grandfnother also evinced surprise at what had happened, and said she should always mourn the cat named Judy, for Judy was such a ladylike cat, and could always have a corner iu her room to sleep in, for Judy was never in the way nor tho least bit ob jectionable. Unple Nat said he wouldn’t have taken any money for Topsy, as he regarded Topsy as his especial prop erty, and the likeliest cat in the bunch. Aunt Caroline said it wr s bad luck to kill black cats, and she couldn’t* think of anything she was so super stitious about as blaek cats. Susan said she wouldn’t have killed even one black cat for all the money on earth, and that she should be afraid to stay now, anyway, and couldn't wait till her month was up, either. Mother hadn’t a word to say for herself. That night black tats stared at her out of the darkness, and once she awoke from a nightmare of pur suing cats, an army of them, ami thought she heard them wailing—the spirits of the cats she had chloro formed! At daybreak she rose from her bed, dressed herself, and descended to the kitchen—and there on the back doorstep, peering through the screen door as usual, unhurried and ex pectant, -were the six black cats, ■waiting for their breakfast. “I’m so glad I didn’t put a rock on the top of that box!” said mother. She gathered them in as if they had been prodigals, and all six of them had the breakfast of their nine o' more lives. STRUGGLE WITH A TIGER. Two brothers, Khuda Bakhs and Shaikh Abdul Ghani, of Moradabad, ■were despatched recently to Kampur on an errand, and while entering a grove at Khadpura a tigar sprang upon Khuda Bakhs, who, being an athlete, warded off the blow aimed at him with his right hand and caught one of the paws with the other and maintained his hold, though the tiger -was mauling the other hand. Abdul Ghani now rushed up with a stout stick, which he forced down the tiger’s throat, making it release his brother’s hand, when Khuda Bakhs seized another paw r with his wounded hand, forcing both the paws back. He wrestled with the tiger, keeping it down by sheer force, while Abdul Ghani belabored it with his lathi and killed it. The tiger was carried by the broth ers to His Highness the Nawab of Rampur, “who kept the skin as a me mento and sent Khuda Bakhs to the State dispensary for treatment."—ln dian Daily Telegraph. VICARIOUS SNAKE BITE. A vicarious snake bite is the cur ious case reported from Shepperton, Victoria, by Dr. Walchman. A small dog -was bitten by a snake, and in turn bit his master, who was dress ing his wound. The dog died. The man soon afterward became drowsy, on being taken to the hospital devel oped alarming symptoms of snake poisoning, and only energetic treat ment saved his life.—Philadelphia Record. A Trade in liridcs. According to statistics just Issued the male inhabitants of St. Petersburg outnumber the female by 124,000. The total population of the capital now is 1.454,704, showing an increase of 230,000, or nearly nineteen pel cent., as compared with the census of 1900. There are 315,632 children between the ages of one and fifteen, and of these 163,476 are boys and 152,158 girls. A letter from Nokolsk-Ussurisk published in a London journal gives particulars of a profitable “commerce in brides" which is being carried on by enterprising peasants in the dis trict, These matrimonial intermedi aries bring a number of marriageable girls from European Russia, obtain ing cheap tickets for them on soma pretext or other, and play the part of father or guardian in the ensuing ne gotiations. Their average cash profit on each bride is between forty and 100 rubles (a ruble being the equivalent of fifty cents>, and in addition to this they get presents and vodka according to the means of the bridegroom. Protecting the Camp From Insects. At our camp last summer we dis covered a good method to keep in sects and snakes out of our camp. After we choose the best site we could find for cur tent we burned a stretch of grass a few feet wide en tirely around the tent. This proved very effective, as bugs and worms, and even snakes, will not readily cross newly burned-over ground.— Mabel Kneeland, in Recreation. MRS. BiLKEY. A Masterful Woman with inclina tlon to Work. My friend Bilkey has niarned a verj superior woman. Her superiority is oj the dyed-in-the-wool, two-ply, double twilled variety, which leaves no doubt in any one's mind—especially the mind of Bilkey—of the genuineness of the brand. I know all this because Bilkey bands me a bulletin on the subject every time we meet. Mis. Bilkey is the personification of the virtuous woman spoken of by King Lemuel, who knew all about it, be cause his mother told him. Mrs. Bilkey has done Bilkey good and not evil every day of his life trom the day he took her to t.’js home until the present lime. “She seeketh wool and flax” —at the bargain counters, probably—“and workelh willingly with her hands,” aud all the rest of it. even to her husband’s being known in the gates where he sittcth among the eld ers of the land; for Bilkev has a weak ness for hanging around the hotel ro tunda aud smoKirgg cigars with the elders until exceedingly late. Mean while Mrs. Bilkey. following out King Lemuel's ideal, rises up wUe it is yet night to provide - meat for her house hold aud meets Bilkey on the landing on his way to bed. Bilkey says that of a Sunday after noon. if the thermometer is in the neighborhood of zero. Mrs. Bilkey sug gests going out to call on one of her girl friends who lives ”oh, just a little way from here.” When she reaches the sidewalk sin is undecided as to just which direction to take, but finally decides in favor ol going west, because the wind is blow ing from that direction. "Don’t you know where this friend of yours lives?” Bilkey asks. "Well,” his wife answers. “I know the house. I was there two years age with Sister Bertha, and it is a browr. house facing south about the middle of the block.” “Which block?” Bilkey asks. “I don’t just recall the block,” re turns Mrs. Bilkey, “but I’ll know' when I see it. I’m sure.” "What street?" asks Bilkey. Well, she doesn’t know that or the number. She isn’t quite sure whether it is south of Sixty-ninth street or north of Sixty-seventh street, but she wiil know the general neighborhood if she sees it. On being asked recalls the name of the friend who is about to be visited, Mrs. Bilkey grows indig nant. Of course she knows that. She Isn’t so silly as to forget the name when they went to school together. Her name is Minnie Purvis, but she’s married now. and for the life of her Mrs. Bilkey can’t quite recall her mar ried name. It is something with a Me whether it is Connell or Connick she can’t remember, but it’s either McFar land or McEllicott, she Is sure. Then after they have walked ten or fifteen miles Mrs. Bilkey actually finds the people they are looking for, though Bilkey is unable to tell how she does it, since the name is Cooley and has no Me to it at all and the Cooleys have moved twice since Mrs. Bilkey saw them last. Bilkey says she has done this no less than three times. In fact, she rarely knows the street number that she is aiming for, but plods bland ly along and seldom has to ring more than twenty or twenty-five doorbells before she strikes the right one. Bilkey says that Mrs. Bilkey has a deepseated conviction that he is total ly unfit to manage the smallest detail of life. He never can induce her tc give any consideration to the question as to how he managed to get along be fore she took up the reins of govern ment. He says if he starts on any job such as laying a carpet or putting up a win dow screen, she hovers about and sug gests end advises and finally finishes the work herself. She will not keep a girl, but bakes, cooks, sweeps, dusts, washes, scrubs and does the marketing paints the woodwork, dresses the chil dren, feeds the chickens, mows the lawn in summer, shovels the snow from the walk in winter and keeps everything in such immaculate order and so painfully clean that Bilkey feels he is doing her a personal injury every lime he walks across the kitchen floor. Bilkey says he is the happiest man in seven States—does not have a care in fife. The whole thing is planned, cut aut and basted for him aud all he has to do is to furnish the money to pay the bills. Mrs. Bilkey does the rest— Chicago News. For the Old Baboon. In the English club at Hong-Kong a fvhite haired old gentleman who had come down frorn some northern port was seated at dinner, when he sud denly became greatly excited. A let :er had been brought him by a solemn faced Chinese butler end he saw something on the outside of this let ter which sent him downstairs two steps at a time to interview the hall porter. When he came back he told, what was the matter. The hall porter had inscribed on the envelope in Chinese for-the information of the but er: “This is for the old baboon with white fur.” Unfortunately for the hall porter, the lit tie gentleman was a 3rst class scholar In the Chinese lan guage. Sice Lights cn Mythology. Vulcan nad just put four new lorsesbores on the feet cf the Centaur. “Easiest job 1 ever did,” he said to the bystanders. “He stood perfectly still and when I banded him the fly brush he kept the flies away himself.” Making a handsome discount from bis usual price ne asked his customer to drive himself to his shoo whenever he needed an/ mere work. —Chicago Tribune. Sicnts of Favor. “What makes you think our candi date is not popular with the massesV” Inquired one political promoter. “Because," answered the other, ‘ no one makes fun of his whiskers or calls him by his first name.”—Wash ington Star. Chilian government official report shows there have been 7854 copper claims worked in Chile, at different times, of which only 748 were worked during the last year.