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#Hfo it •fef st s?wt? jSjfc iM'y tk. •9M CHAPTER IX.—(Continued..) Looking on, thankful for his wife's temporary brightness, was Gervis, too much encumbered by his robes of lci olea and snow to Join tha dancers, and holding his hand v*« little, misshapen 3yb—she, too, perforce, being a spec tator and never an actor in the merry games of life. "It's a pretty sight, isn't it, little 5yb?" heartily said Qervis, determined In hlar honest,. manly fashion to be proud of the wife he had won. Gladdy, light as a sprite, was dart ing up and down in the old-fashioned dance, and every eye was fixed upon her dainty figure, in its dress of sil very brocade. She, too, had blood-red berries' fastened in the folds ot her wedding gown and a great bunch on her left shoulder. "If Leila had on a dress of silver brocade, and diamonds on her neck, she would look a thousand times pret tier than that thin girl!" was Syb's harsh reply, as she glowered at the shining little figure dancing up and down the middle. Before the startled Gervis could col lect himself -to reply a disagreeable, low laugh made both Syb and he turn quickly. Temple-Dene was liberty hall, and the scientist had again shut himself up in his room all day, deep In some abstruse calculations, doubtless. But the music and laughter had drawn the hermit from, his, cell,-and. he stood close behind them, with a strange, mocking smile on his thin lips. "Little missy has distinct powers of discrimination, evidently," Paul Ans dell said, fixing his black eyes full on the frowning face of the deformed child. At the same time he lifted his right hand, but, on second thought, dropped it at his side furtively. "You ought to have been among the merry dancers, Ansdell," said Gervis, a little puzzled by his new friend. "The merry dancers?" repeated the scientist quickly. "Why, do you know what you are saying? The merry dancers are the famous northern lights, and we folk across the herring pond have a superstition that they are never seen save before some ter r.ole calamity." While Paul was speaking his gaze grew more intent, and his dark eyes seemed to be drawing out the soul of the deformed child. The frown had faded from her uplifted face and in its stead an expectant look leaped. It was as though she were saying dumb ly: "I am ready! What would you have with me, my master?" "Well," retorted Gervis, whose eyes wandering back to the quaint old dance had lost the byplay, "if the mer ry dancers are to bring a calamity, It must be upon yourself, Ainsdell, see ing we have no such superstition among us that I know of." And he moved off, with a train of clamoring Children' at his heels. The dance was over, and laughing, chattering and fluttering, the dancers, old and young, gathered around Lady Jane, who, determined to have a va riety of entertainment at her Christ mas party, was urging a shrinking, shy boy to recite "The Mistletoe Bough." "You know, Bobby, you can do it so beautifully, and Mrs. Templeton would like to hear it so much!" Bobby Vane was the big brother from Eton of the small lisper in blue velvet who clung to Gladdy's skirts when he could. Bobby was a born reciter, but, un fortunately, shy—horribly shy. However, at last, cajoled, hustled and goaded, the boy, with his ears pink and his knees knocking together —for he had never faced so large ah audience—rushed at his task. After the first line Bobby felt his feet. His voice was good, clear, sweet and round as a bell it showed no hint of breaking as yet. The gay company, breathless and in tent, closed round the youthful reciter as the old legend in verse fell in clear, dropping syllables from his lips: The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, And the holly-branch shone on the old oak wall, ,And the baron's retainers were blithe and gay, .eeping their Christmas holiday, nd as the poem went on all were ibly Impressed by the curious slml |y of their present surroundings me detailed by the reciter. 'J old world ballroom, with its dark oak rafters, its By N. B. MAN WELL rowB of klnk glittering armor—for Temple-Dene was noted for its armor—the "goodly company" of gallants and fair dames, the merry children, the old paneled walls blush ing red with lavish wealth ot scarlet holly berries while here and there ,nd everywhere, in the most unex ted places, large bunches of mistle hung to tempt and entrap the un- And, above all, there was the feature, the bride— star of that goodly company. we ought to carry It out itter!" excitedly cried Gladdy, recitation was over, and the applause cause shame-faced ee for shelter behind a suit rmor. lid child, this new daugh blandly said Lady Jane cronies, as Gladdy sped all to the distant stair- had not been the great leiress she was, her escap iave been promptly frowned knew very well. in the gallery that ran hall, Paul Ansdell was pac fand down, witli folded arms ply frowning brow. lit meant for this man other than it did for the merry below. The crucial moment tome when be was about to stake |1. Either he would be in a por to grasp a fortune, or he would ^himself 1& a prison cell. That along the grtilery alight f- pPii Srvan.re^g^^^ footstep come behind him. So light was its patter that Paul did not hear it. "You?" As he turned he faced a little figure in gleaming silver robes with patches of crimson here and there—blood-red berries—and at her. throat a dazzle of diamonds. It was Gladdy, on tiptoe. "I have come to hide—to hide!" Her voice abruptly died away, for Paul Ansdell's eyes held her. Her whole figure drooped, the joyousness died out of her small face, and her eyes grew large and dilated as they gazed back, almost glued to those of the scientist. Motionless, immovable, she waited while he drew nearer to her. There was for her the fascination of the vic tim for the rattlesnake. And^while the two—master and tool —came closer and closer, there came floating up from below the sounds of music and revelry and gay laughter. The dancing had begun again, and there was a flash of changing color as the couples whirled round. In the gallery a strange silence reigned. One little watcher, hidden close be hind a bank of ferns and festoons of holly berries, could hear her own heart beats. It was Syb, the deformed girl, who had stolen away from the throng of merrymakers an hour since. Something strange and uncanny had befallen Syb, some inscrutable Influ ence held her prisoner. Her will was chained up, she was powerless to come and go as she would. But only so far was she dominated. Every other sense she had was alert. And she watched with wonderment the bride, whom she hated for standinig in the place that should have been Leila's, droop visibly before the slowly waving hands of Paul Ansdell, the sci entist. The strain not to lose any thing in the strange scene being en acted before her was too much for Syb even to wonder why the long, lean hands went up and down, up and down, slowly and methodically. The gay music from below rose and fell, and between its bursts Syb's sharp, young ears caught the hissed out com mand as Paul Ansdell bent over the little crouching figure in silver bro cade: "Go! Do my will!" With a faint, almost inarticulate cry Gladdy straightened herself, and, turning, went slowly along the gallery. Paul Ansdell's eyes followed her until she disappeared on the opposite side. The music below ceased with a crash of chords, the dance was over, and in the lull Syb heard a sharp click. So did Paul Ansdell, for he quickly lifted his head, and a gray pallor crept over his face. Then he hurried away in the direc tion of the bachelors' wing, where he had been located on his arrival. "I hate him, too!" irritably said Syb. In truth, the poor, misshapen girl hated most people. As if some baleful thing had depart ed, she rose and shook herself. The holly had scratched her thin, bare arms, and there was a trickle of red that dropped on her white muslin frock. "Ugh! it's all horrid!" she shud dered impatiently. "I wish Leila and I could run away from it all, and live In a cottage by ourselves," she mur mured, as she went wandering round the horse-shoe gallery. For to this afflicted child all the music and brightness and Cnristmas joy in the hall below was gall and wormwood. CHAPTER X. Even the maddest, merriest of rev elers must grow weary. The Cnristmas merrymakers flagged, the gay music dragged a little slowly here and there a tired child-guest yawned in a corner, then nodded, and finally was carried away in a deep sleep. Outside, under the stars, a long line of carriages waited, and the hostess, with tired eyes, wondered why people did not go. It had been a fatiguing day for Lady Jane and for Leila, who had not spared herself in helping. She and Lady Jane, side by side, ran- the gant let of the interminable good-byes from exhausted but delighted guests. The Christmas gathering had been the greatest success the county had known for years, and Lady Jane was excited by the flatteries and thanks of the departing guests. "Where's your wife, dear? She ought to have' been here te see the guests off." Lady Jane laid her hand on her son's arm. She was, in her tired state, ready to be cross even with the heiress. "Gladdy? I'm sure I don't know, mother dear." Gervis yawned. He was pining to get off his Santa Claus trappings, and to have a quiet pipe by himself. A quarter of an hour later nearly every soul under the Temple-Dene roof was echoing Lady Jane's ques tion. Where was the bride? Not in her own room, not in the hot, deserted ballroom she was not in the upper gallery, where the lights were already being put out. All sense of fatigue was put to flight by a vague terror of some evil hang ing over tlio house of Temple-Dene. Under the ancient roof only two persons did not si. are the terrified ex citement when it was discovered that Mrs. Gervis Templeton was nowhere to be found—its master and the Amer ican guest. Gervis himself was petrified. He had brought all his strength of will to bear on nobly doinjg his duty to the woman he had won for his wife. No one but he would ever know how hard the fight had been. And now it was all in valnT"" tor Gladdy had gone—where, no one knew. Since the journey on the Canadian Pacific railway, over the anow-covered prairiea, Gladdy had been a bewilder ing puzzle to her hubband. Her vagar ies had made him secretly wonder at times if he had married a lunatic. Then again a great fear would loom up that his wife had inherited some terrible wasting disease, and was about to slip through his fingers and out of life itself. But this catastrophe on Christmas night eclipsed ail that he had even dreaded. Gladdy gone! She who had been the merriest, gladdest, happiest of all the "goodly companie!" It was inscrut able, horrible, maddening! Out into the freezing night went parties of searchers. Not a man un der Temple-Dene's roof, gentle or simple, save two—its master and the American guest, Paul Ansdell—but joined the anxious hunt All was in vain! "Nothing more can be done until the daylight comes," hoarsely said Gervis, as he strode Into the still gayly lighted hall, and stamped the hard iced snow off his boots. His face was gray, and a strange look of age had crept oved it, which made it startlingly like that of his mother. Lady Jane, worn out and spent, crouched down beside the great yule log, that crackled and roared, the only cheery thing around. She and Gervis gazed blankly at each other. What had they done, the two were asking one another silently, that this disgrace should have come to shame them? "Can anybody tell me who saw or spoke with my wife last?" There was a catch in the young husband's voice as he put the question to the circle of anxious-eyed searchers round him. "She said she was going to hide. Don't you remember?" Bobby Vane, who had recited, craned his neck for ward to say. Then everybody did remember what they had forgotten—Gladdy's wild pro posal to enact the bride in the "Mistle toe Bough," and a gasp of relief came. "Why, she's in the house somewhere, safe and sound, laughing in her sleeve at us all and we've teen for the last hour tearing our clothes and the skin off our hands in that thicket of holly bushes round the pond!" "Let's go all over the house again," suggested somebody else. "Perhaps she's crept inside one of the suits of armor," suggested Bobby, with protruding eyes. What a tale it was going to be to carry back to school! Another hour was spent in search, but all fruitlessly. (To be Continued.) GAME KILLING. Denver Times Sees Danger In Allowing Indians Latitude* There is a curious disposition among the people to make sport of Gov. Thomas' crusade against the Indians who are said to be killing game out side their reservation and within the boundaries of this state. That it has a comic side is probably not to be de nied. But it may also have a very serious side. The border country has not had any Indian experiences of late, and the American people show an astonishing facility in forgetting unpleasant things. Those who know anything about the Indian know that the kind of movement now begun may very easily incite him to acts which will have a very serious significance to outlying settlers and possibly small villages. The Indians know as well as Gov. Thomas does that the federal power is not behind this movement. They rarely forego a chance for im mediate revenge because of the pos sibility of a remote reprisal. That the state can prevail in the end nobody doubts, perhaps, but aside from the •harvest of trouble and loss of life we may have to reap, citizens are also looking to the harvest of debt that must follow, though we are now at our wits' end to devise means for paying what we already owe. Some of them are inclined to suspect the governor of a kind of "after us, the deluge" policy. —Denver Times. TOO EXTRAVAGANT. A Defaulting Cashier Ate Ham Boiled In Champagne. The manner in which one defaulting cashier was detected was rather pecul iar, says the Louisville Times. It was all due to the curiosity of the women of his neighborhood. He went to no expense in the way of dressing, they never heard of his gambling or drink ing to any extent, he was a model hus band, but he loved a good table. There was nothing unusual in this, but one day when the ladies of the vicinity were discussing the best methods of cooking meats the wife of the cashier declared very innocently that her hus band doted on ham, but he would not eat it unless it had been boiled in champagne. "Boiled in champagne!" exclaimed tne listeners. "Heavens, how expensive we couldn't afford to have ham on our table often if we cooked It that way." It was soon noised all around the neighborhood that Cashier Blank was a high liver, indeed, and the men began telling of his uplifted ideas of cookery. This soon reached the ears of the directors of the bank, and they concluded it might be" wise to investigate the ac counts of such an epicure. Plain wa ter was all they could afford for their hams, so the champagne lover was called up and subsequently relegated to the pen, where he had to forego his pet dish for many, many weary days. American Boolcs la Mexico. Mexico buys more American books than does France, and nearly as many as Germany. Much of this trade is due to the large resident American population to be found in Mexican cities and to the demand from mining camps, where Americans are living, and not a little is due to the growing spread of English among the Mexican people. There is a strong tendency here in favor of popularizing the Eng lish language, and the learners of that tongue comprise professional men in middle life as well as thousands of youth. Some large institutions of learning have put English ahead of French.—Mexican Herald. 1 Irv the Fowler i* By M. B. NANWELL CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) "Better send the young people to bed, it is now daylight almost," sug gested the elders, and they carefully avoided looking at each other. That some terrible calamity had happened even Lady Jane, whose first fear had been that the bride had run away, was fully convinced. "But, Leila, you will stay by me?" quavered the mistress of the house, suddenly transformed into a broken down old woman. "I will, dear aunty," gravely said Leila. "I shall see little Syb safe in bed, then I shall return to you." LeHa Desmond, slenderly graceful, soft and caressing, womanly to the finger-tips, was yet one of those loyal, strong natures we turn to lean upon in the "day of trouble." Gervis gave her one look of rever ence, then he placed his arm round that mother for wnom he and this "perfect woman, nobly planned" had sacrificed themselves so fatally. Every hour was bringing home to him the terrible blunder he had made In his life. Love between man and woman was God-given, to be prize.) as sacred but under the specious pre text of sacrificing himself for the good of his house, he had torn love trom his heart, and then sold that empty shell for gold. That it had been a bit ter, sinful bargain he now knew. Perhaps this impending calamity which he was helplessly waiting for the new day to discover might be heaven's punishment for what he had done. It was still and quiet in the old house. There was a lull of expectancy until the daylight should come to al low action to be resumed. In Leila's room it was silent as the grave. Beside the white-draperied bed knelt Leila herself. She was praying, with frightened tears now no one was by to see them—praying earnestly for the hapless girl who had shadowed her life. That something dire had happened Leila instinctively knew but all she could do was to pray for help from above. "Leila! Sis!" A hoarse, shrill voice made her spring to her feet. Close at her side stood Syb, shiver ing in her little blue dressing-gown, her face working convulsively. "I can't keep it from you any long er! I dare not, though I do hate her so!" the deformed girl was saying, her teeth chattering as much from terror as from cold. "Speak, Syb!" Leila gripped the thin wrist, her breath coming thick and fast. Syb knew, then! "I heard a cry, a smothered scream from the old oak chest, as I walked round the gallery but I hated her so that I would not speak before! And when I saw you, through the open door between our rooms, praying with sobs, I knew it must be for her. So I must tell, and you'd better be quick!" Syb slipped to the floor in a swoon. But Leila was already gone. With flying feet she was rushing downstairs from the third floor, where her bed room and Syb's were. "Gervis! Gervis! Come, and come quickly! Bring Barnes!" When she had reached the gallery she shrieked loudly. Her voice, sharp with fear, rang through the old house and made Gervis leap to his feet. "It's Leila! She has found out some thing! Mother dear, stay here, I pray you!" He pressed Lady Jane back on her seat. "No one knows what* we liav« got to face!" "Bring Barnes! Oh, be quick!" Le ila's voice cried again in an agony of haste. Barnes, the white-haired old butler, was stiff and rheumatic. It seemed as though he would never reach the top of the wide, crimson-covered stair case, and yet the old man was doing his best, though Gervis would fain have dragged him up two steps at a time. "Where are you, Leila?" he hoarsely shouted. "Here! here! Quick!" Round the curve of the gallery they found Leila, tearing frantically the holly and moss decorations from what had been a bank of greenery. The blood was trickling down her hands and wrists, as the holly tore them cruelly. But, unconscious of pain, Leila continued to pull, until the old black-oak chest, which had been the foundation of the green bank, was displayed. "Press the spring, Barnes! Nobody in Temple-Dene knows the secret but you. Press, for Gladdy's dear sake!" panted the girl, madly beside herself. "Whatever-—" Barnes was begin ning, and fumbling with his specta cles. "Man, do as you're bid!" shouted Gervis, catching the infection of Le ila's frenzy. And he dragged Barnes forward. Something in his blazing eyes made the old man pull himself together. He stooped forward. With shaking hands, he felt along the carvings but how slow he was! The watchers caught their breaths and shivered. 'Tis in the shamrock, I do mind me. 'Tis b'und to be in the sham rock, the spring," he was muttering. In an instant Leila was on her knees, and there, among the carved leaves and flowers of oak, was a single dainty snamrock. It was the spring! Pressing it hard as she could, the carved lid clicked as it opened about an inch. Then Gervis, with strong arms, forced it back on its hinges, and a muffled cry broke from his lips. '.'V: CHAPTER XI. Lying huddled In the musty chest Rras a little figure in gleaming silver brocade, stained here and there with bunches of crushed holly berries.* It waj Gladdy, stiffened and lm & able, but with widely opened, round blue eyes. That she was dead was the first muttered thought of both Gervis and Leila. "No! 'Tain't death!" quickly said old Barnes, glancing at their white faces. "See ye, Mr. Gervis, there's a row of air-holes down each side o' the chest. I saw 'em made myself in the old squire's time, purpose-Mke, in case o' this verv kind o' thing that's hap pened now!" But Gervis was not listening. He and others who had rushed to the gal lery were carefully lifting the small, stiffened foim. A mounted gioomhad already been dispatched for a doctor. "But something must be done at once," said Gervis, as they laid the unconscious girl cn an Indian rug on the polished flcor of the gallery. Somebody was trying to for. brandy through the marble white lips. "Not a drop will go down! What are we to do until the doctor comes?" pitcously cried Leila, who, kneeling down, had slipped her arm under the little sunny-brown head. "Fetch Mr. Ansdell!" commanded Gervis, with a sudden inspiration. Surely the American could give some help in the pressing emergency, other wise, what was the value of his so called scientific reputation? Mr. Ansdell! Everybody then re membered that, oddly enough, the sci entist had not been-once seen during the hours of anxious search. It was curious, to say the least of it. And still more curious did it appear that no Mr. Ansdell hurried to the gallery in answer to the summons. "Never mind, here's young Doctor Goring himself, which is better," ejac ulated Lady Jane, who had struggled upstairs more dead than alive from sheer fright, and looked on helplessly. "It's a trance!" at last pronounced the doctor, a young man, with all the latest medical and scientific theories at finger-ends. "She has been hy itized! Who has done this mis chief?" He stood up and glanced round upon the awe-struck group sternly. There was no answer, and Doctor Goring went on wrathfully: "Somebody has got to answer for this night's work! The poor young lady has been brought to death's door, evidently, by some vile experiment. Now, then, clear out of this every one of you! Excuse my bluntness, Lady Jane, but this is not a moment for po lite speech. I've got a life to win back if I can, and I can't have a crowd round me. Your ladyship can remain, and, yes, I must have Miss Desmond, if I've anybody." One by one the spectators departed from the gallery, and the young med ical enthusiast set to work, with the result that in a quarter of an hour Gladdy feebly opened her lips and spoke. "I want Leila," was the whisper. And when she saw that it was Leila herself who was supporting her head the bride's round eyes closed content edly. "She will sleep now. We must carry her to her bed," said Doctor Goring, well satisfied. "You are wanted, sir, at once," came an urgent whisper while Gervis, lift ing his wife in his arms, carried her away. "What! another case?" The doctor wheeled around, and he was silently beckoned to the quarter of the house known as the bachelors' wing. Lying back in his chair in front of a writing table, and grasping a folded paper, was a dead man. The room was in perfect order. There had been no assault, no murder, no suicide, so far as one could judge at the moment. But that death had entered the half open stare of the black eyes, the dropped jaw, and the marble hue of the long, lean fingers gripping the sheet of paper spoke all too clearly. Little wonder that Paul Ansdell had failed to join in the search for the missing bride, failed to obey the sum mons for his helpful skill. "He has been dead quite a couple of hours," said Doctor Goring gravely, secretly wondering what would be the outcome of this double tragedy. "You must keep this business from the ladies as long as you can," he said, turning to Gervis, who had been hast ily sent for. "There must be an in quest, of course and, meantime, I should take possession of that folded paper. See, I've managed not to tear it. You'd best lock it away until you hand it to the coroner, Mr. Temple ton." "Why," gasped Gervis, as he caught sight of the close, upright handwrit ing, "my wife wrote that! What vil lainy is this? See here!" "It was the last will and testament of Gladys Templeton, and, In correct legal form it assigned everything the testator possessed to Paul Ansdell of Montreal, revoking all former wills and codicils. The document was duly signed, and the signatures and ad dresses of two Americans were append ed. Not a flaw was there from beginning to end of the deed. "You hold the key that unlocks the whole of this night's mystery," briefly said the young doctor. "This unfortu nate man must be a reckless adven turer, whose wits have put in his hands a most dangerous weapon. He is, we will discover, a criminal hypno tist, a so-called scientist, seeking some tool to further his own ends. Yes. yes you'll see we'll find out that's what he is—was, I mean," said the medical man. He was right in his surmise, as the inquest brought out, bit by bit, partly from papers belonging to the dead man, partly from the unwilling evi dence of Gladdy, who had been more or less under hypnotic Influence ,since the night of. the fire in the snow-Whed. As for the yillain'i own death, it was proved to We fronj natural causes, heart disease. that caused a breakdown at the cru cial moment of his career. But the jury's verdict was the popu lar one—"By the visitation of God." Five years have passed away. So many changes have happened to Temple-Dene and the Templetons that Lady Jane has come to look back upon the days when she wore faded silks and lived a sorely pinched life as the happiest she has known. Today she no longer wears her fa vorite blue, for Francis Templeton ha? gone to his grave, his heart eaten ou. by the melancholy nothing would dis pel. So Lady Jane wears widow's r-cth and haR learnt the old lesson tha "contentment is great gain." The dainty Amer'can br:d-, so fra gile and hfrMy strung, ne\er m-.nage to weather the repeated shocks to frail syf-t ni. Like a broken flower sh withered, until decline -le: in. In I-cila's tender, pp.-r:ing arm' her we:ik hands Kinging ti^ht to I.c'Ia soft thr.a!, Gladdy died p:ar fully. "Take care of rry Hervis. I.fi'a. Yo wi'l do it better than I," with lie \\n drous intuition r.f the dying che wi.! pered at. .the last. And now that the y-ar= hi'e go. round, Gervis begins to think it time Leila was taking care rf him. Between the two there is a pel fr understanding, and by sn hy the wedding bells will ring ort: for thcug "sorrow endureth for tha nlTht, jo. is bound to come in the morning." (The En 1.) WICKED CITIES. Hold Ritrglarn jind Hljlnrrynnt arc Numerous In (i:iy I'll Im. Highway robberies have multiplied of late in Paris to so alarming an ex tent that it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that we live at present unde reign of terror. Every morning th? papers publish a fresh list of victims, says a correspondent in the London Pall Mall Gazette. The main thor oughfares are somewhat safer, of course, than the more out of the way streets, but even on the chief boule vards the belated pedestrian runs no inconsiderable risk as soon as the rush of traffic from the theaters is over. Bagshot Heath in the palmiest days of highwaymen must have been a delecta ble spot after dusk compared with some of the most respectable districts of Paris at present.. In the olden dayj you were at least allowed to save your skin by parting with your purse, whereas the modern Parisian footpad does his best in nine cases out of ten to murder his victim either before or after be has robbed him. The un speakable ferocity of the Parisian ruf fian is. perhaps, the ugliest feature of the situation. He is seldom or never content with merely easing the "pante" of his property. His usual mode of proceeding is to begin by half killing his prey as the readiest way of pre venting anything in the nature of re sistance. Revolvers, knives, bludgeons, "os de mouton" and knackle dusters do their work effectually before thfcre is any question of securing the booty. Time after time it is the same old tale. The police come up. either attracted fly" the scuffle, or long afterward, on their beat, to find a. tinioitftriSte creature lying in a pool of blood, dead or in desperate straits. But there have been innumerable examples of late of vio lence being resorted to solely with a view of satisfying the most fiendish instincts of cruelty. On the whole, the police do what they can, but there are far too few of them. Even when they catch their quarry red-handed, which is the exception, as their rounds are few and far between, they are usually outnumbered and outarmed. Instances are common of their showing great bravery, but, as a rule, the best that happens is that they capture one or two of the ruffians, while the others make good their escape. Fortunately, the detectives supplement their efforts to excellent purpose. When one or two members of a gang are arrested their accomplices are generally run to ground before long. The trouble is that the supply of desperadoes seems to be inexhaustible. One band is no sooner under lock and key than an other is rivalling its exploits. Still Digging for Gold. Mrs. Sarah MacDonald, a prumisent club woman of New York, who went to Alaska three years ago in search of a fortune, writes to a friend that she was at the time of writing, packing up to leave Nome, where she has been for the last two months, to start for the southern part of Alaska. She was going with a party to open a new camp and mining district. She is to be the recorder, and she declares that she has great prospects and greater expectations. She will be in this com paratively unsettled country all win ter. Mrs. MacDonald was chairman of the executive committee of the New York Women's Press club when she left. Her goodby was, "I'll never come back unless I strike it rich." Her address now is Muchagak, via Bristo1 Bay. Food's Lowest Daily Co*t. By actual experience the Rnskinites, a colony of socialists near Waycross, Ga., have demonstrated what is prob ably the lowest possible daily cost of food. They live at an actual cost per capita of less than 10 cents a day. Ot course this could not have been ac complished except through co-opera tion. Everything the^ consume it bought at wholesale in large quantities and is cooked in the community. In the community dining room tables are set for 300 people. Those who do not wish to eat with the crowd are allowed the privilege of purchasing company stores and cooking them at home. Ancient Deed In Philadelphia* The first deed conveying property 'to the proprietor of Pennsylvania, Will iam Penn, is written in old Dutch, and vis now preserved in the city hall. The property was what is now known as Lemcn hill, including the mansion and the Schuylkill river front, where the old Fairmount waterwsuks was lo cated. There Penn kept Via barge and some rowboats, the bargrf carrying an admiral's pennant. It is 6aid there is only one man in Philadelp5hi ^^o-tran read this deed. FOR THE BOY'S ROOM Ue Sliuu'.d Keep Everything With 11 It I In Order. Undoubtedly the parents of ev^,/ Doy feel an intense and earnest inter est in having that boy make a succes.-? of his lite. Just as surely do most mothers think that the boy's room does not require near the pretty furnishings that the daughter's does, ar.d that boys are careless and boys are rough, with the result that the boy's room is often the one that is put off with the least expense and the least anr. last, effort. Naturally boys do not carr. for the "pretty" things as girls do but }j the things that are lovely to them the^ do care for greatly. Boys do not wain the fussy dainties that a girl enjoys, but they know when they are well treated, when loving care regarding their especial tastes is shown. The} like chiefly to be let alone, to play in their own way no nagging for harm less noise, freedom to take their bo friends to their room. The wi.se par ents seek to give their boys a room moie attractive than the street corners pr the neighbor's barn, where they Making of a Country Home'" in Every body's Magazine. The conditions of personal merit and fidelity to an em ployer have enlarged in our time. So long as our employers were individuals who trained and appreciated special fit ness in their employes, and kept their eyes on fidelity, smartness and honesty J3* J-C CM. congregate and experiment or plan entertain themselves. The early yea probably from 5 to 15, are the import ant ones in a boy's life. If the mot.lie and sister desire refined boys, th will give them rr-'fined surrounding, not necessarily silk cushions and I n: curtains in their rooms, but harmoni ous colors and loving thought of wb the boy likes. Let the boys choc is their own pictures they will proba.bi be very different from what you wou'i select. Boys will take delight in framing the pictures, with your help the expense—help them arrange their collections. Give them a good writing table. Give them as good a light as any in the liouse. With such liberty and interest and help, your hoy will bring his companions to his home, and he will spend many hours in his room, probably hours of real industry, which keep him from temptations and give him reliance on his own powers. The boys should he as carefully taught hab its of neatness and care for their room as their sisters are. AfteT the room has been properly cleaned in the morn ing they should be held responsible for its order all day. "HURRYCIDE" KILLS. How Trusts Affect luulvlilnal l.lve# In New York. The conditions of life in the business world are more precarious and more hopeless today than at any time in the past three decades. This is the state ment of John P. Mowbray in "The we felt safe. It was to their interest'.1^ to advance us. But all that is chang ing, passing into corporate lrresponsl-Jr«|C bility and abstract bossship. Look at^^ our friend Warner. He was with a big firm ten years. He knew every pulse qf their business and managed his-jlfijfcrtment like^l'KJjifS'r^ iit' was twenty-four-hundred-a-year man. put the firm joined a trust gave over the personal supervision of their business to the new brand of overseers and the first thing they did was to sh Warner and put a fifteen--hundred-dcl lar-a-year man in his place. To yon know what happened to Warnc*» "Why, he was your friend who was killed, wasn't he?" "K'e ccmmitterl what the reckless fellows in the Astor House rotunda call 'hurryeide.' War ner tried to jump for an electric car, and those fellows have a ghastly humor which attributes such an act to a man who was overdrawn his accounts, or has played the tape-line too rashly. But the fact is, Warner suffered a kind of moral paralytic stroke. He couldn't realize that ten years of scrupulous self-sacrificing attention to another man's business could end in that way. it bothered him, and it doesn't do for the average man to get bothered when on Kroadway at the rush hour. If he takes his mind off the brink for a mo ment, he is gone. Poor Warner was probably thinking of his children, and the electric destroyer struck him on the left side." DALY AND HACKMAN. Kew Story Told of the f.ato MonUuia Copper Klug-. When Marcus Daly was in Wash ington last it is told that he performed a humane act which very nearly brought a brutal hack driver into the police court, and was a topic of con versation at the hotel and other places which Daly frequented. The story es caped the vigilance of the local news paper fraternity, and is here published for the first time. Daly was coming out of Chamberlain's one morning when he espied a negro hackman brutally belaboring a crippled old horse with a heavy whip in an almost futile effort to increase its speed from a walk to a slow trot, says the Wash ington Post. Daly hailed the driver, who quickly drew rein and approached the.curb with the prospects of obtain ing a fare. "Where do you want to go to, boss?" inquired the negro. "I'll want to go with you to the police court if you don't stop beating that poor old horse," replied the millionaire. "You could coax the nag along faster with a handful of oats and a wisp of hay in front of him than, you can -by beating him from behind. When did you feed him last?" The negro complained that times were hard, that fares were scarce and that he could not afford to pro vide better for bis horse. Daly saw force of the argument at once and in'iiA^ynjw much the cabman avef agj^^Bwd was told that $ 1 good wage. Dal/ 5JS '•,"5 A ''ft mi & ii 4* whicC It to the takr treat hi: and if I S' in the ne: arrested.