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godftd by a Spell CHAPTER XXIX. | Montgomery was alone, 110 tried to think out his situation; he found it a difficult task. He whs utterly in Hod well's power. Once in the hands of the police, what would the story he could tell avail against the word of a gentle manV While thus revolving in his mind his perilous position, he took out his pipe. Searching in his waistcoat pocket for a match, he felt some smooth, hard substance. It was the locket that Mr. Porter had handed him, and which he had entirely forgotten. Ills thoughts were too grave ly engaged to give any heed to it now. Kilt in taking it out of his pocket, the better to catch hold of a match that eludeil his tingers. his gaze fell upon the back, upon which was engraved the initials K. H. and K. M., joined togeth er by a true lovers' knot. A cry of as tonishment burst from his lips; he took it to the window, minutely examined it. passed his hand across his eyes, as though doubting their evidence. Then, with trembling tingers, he tried for the spring. At last he found it. Upon one side was the miniature of a beautiful woman; upon the other, which had once contained another portrait, a lock of dark hair. Fie sank into a chair, trembling as with an ague tit. and gazing wildly upon the miniature. But soon his face soft ened, the tears gathered in his eyeS, and his chest heaved with deep sobs. He kissed the picture, and murmured words of passionate love over it. In trying for the spring, Mr. Porter had bent the case a little. As Montgomery pressed i» to his lips the portrait fell out and dis closed, neatly titled at the back, a scrap of paper. There was writing upon it; but the characters were so minute that he bad great difficulty in deciphering them. At last he read these words; "The child upon whom this is found is Silas Mo runt, son of Francis Morant. whose portrait this is, of The Willows, Herts." For Home seconds. both strength mid consciousness deserted him. At tirst, his thoughts came hack broken and con lus ed. This portrait of his wife in Mr. J'orter's possession! How came it there •—a child of whose existence lie was ig norant? Silus Morant —Silas Carston •—and Madame Heme interested in liiin! (ireat heaven! this hoy, then, whom he liad given up to his bitterest enemies, whose lifelong misery tie had sealed, whom he was on the brink of consigning to an awful death. was his own sou! Hack upon his soul like the blast of a trumpet rushed the parting words of Madame Berne —that vengeance was •'held by a higher power than that of puny man." For the tirst time since his childhood days, this hardened man of sin knelt down, and trembling and appalled at what had been, what might have been, and what might be yet, prayed to heaven for pardon and for succor. What was to he done? If he could get clear of the house, there would he no difficulty. But he had heard Itodwell lock tiie door behind him. Ah, the win dow! It was a French one, opening upon a garden; it was unfastened; lie could see the back door before him. The next moment ho was there. Ho could not open it. "The door is locked, sir,*' said a voice behind him. Montgomery started, and upon look ing rouml saw a burly looking fellow, dressed like a groom, .sitting under a tree. "Will you have the kindness to open it for ma?" ho said. in mm tincon rtrned n tone an lie could assume. "Can't, sir," was the answer. ".Mas ter has left me here with the key, to •ea that nobody passes out whatsom •v#r." For a moment, Montgomery entertain ed the desperate idea of trying a tussle fo'' the key, but the powerful build of the fellow, uml the thought of the noise It would create, quickly dispelled it. An other unfl uioru feasible plan crossed his braiu. "Would you like to earn a dollar, my mnuV" he said. "1 don't mean by let ting me out of that door, or by disobey ing your master's orders. Will you take u message for me to the telegraph odb e close by'!" The fellow considered fur a moment. "Well. 1 wasn't told anything about mes sages. so 1 dare say 1 can get it dune for you by somebody." It was an enormous hazard to trust to this man: but it was. the only chance left. There were writing materials in the room lie had just left. He hastened back, and upon a sheet of paper wrote — addressed to "Jonathan Kodwell. .M• >r le.v's Motel." —the following words: "If you wish to see your granddaugh ter alive, lose not a moment in going to Manor House, Esse*. John Hodwell's bouse." As a double security, he would send another to Bow street station. The sec ond telegram ran thus: "The young girl for whose discovery s reward lias been offered is at Manor House, Essex. She is iii imminent dan ger—lose not a moment." He sealed these up in separate envel opes, and went back to the man. A youth, looking like a stable lad. was by bis side: this was to be the messenger. N'o person was iu sight. The Ind de purted upon his errand, and Montgom ery returned to his room. The next thing to he thought of was liis own course of action. or rather, what answer he should give to Rodwell when he returned. He must feign to assent to his diabolical proposition—a difficult tusk in the present agitation of his mind, Imt the only one. But would Rod well implicitly trust to so Hidden a conver moD? All this time he held the portrait of his wife in his hand, uever taking hla gazr» from off it. And amidst all these racking douhts and fears of the present there rose up images of the past—bright, beautiful, gloomy, and sad. I.et us pho tograph some of these pictures, connect ing them by links that hare dropped uut of his memory, aud adding many de tails of which he Is Ignorant. tie la one-aud twenty, wild, and some what dissipated, but not vicious, ji:st returned from college to his starely home. Hut a great change has come o\er that home since lie saw it last. His noble, loving mother is dead. His father has returned to The Willows; but not alone. Two strangers—ladies—have ac companied him from Switzerland —Mad- ame Berne and her daughter. It was at the house of the former that his mother resided during her last illness. She is a rigid, austere fanatic, acting up in all things to the letter of her pro fessions, but denying the existence of any good beyond them; all virtue and all holiness are confined within the limits of her creed—beyond it, all is sin and death. She has acquired a powerful ascendancy over Mr. Morant's mind, weakened as it is by the affliction of his beloved wife's death. He has brought her home to till the position of house keeper. and in a short time she reigns absolute and undisputed mistress over him ami the household. I'loin the moment she is first introduc ed to Edward Morant, she conceives a hatred for him. The gay, light, mischiev ous bearing, even subdued as it is now by the sorrow of his mother's death, Is repulsive to her gloomy soul. There is soon open war between them. But Ed ward is no matsdi for bis powerful ad versary. His father, under the prose lytisui of Madame Berne has become as gloomy a fanatic as herself; all gaiety of heart, all amusements, are sins in his belief. The Willows soon become an unendurable home for the young man. and were it not for one all-powerful at traction, he would have quitted it long ago. That attraction is Frances, Madame Heine's daughter, a beautiful, melan choly girl of sixteen. He loves her pas sionately, possibly because she is so en tirely opposite to himself; and she loves him, possibly for the same reason. In the course of time Edward prevnils on Frances to consent to a clandestine mar riage. They are quietly married at a suburban church, anil return to The Wil lows the same night. A fortnight afterwards, yielding fo the prayers of his young wife, Edward de dares his marriage to his father. The old man is willing to forgive the act, but .Madame Berne is furious. Her daugh ter shall not be delivered over to the satanic influences of this vicious man. A terrible scene ensues. Edward's fiery temper is thoroughly aroused, and all the bitterness anil hatred that have been seething ill his heart burst forth. There is not au insult, an epithet of loathing, that lie spares his enemy. The end of all is a father's curse, and his expulsion from the home, the doors of which he will never darken again. He uould claim his wife by force'of Inw, but he has no home to take her to —he is penniless and an outcast. She is ker»i; a close prisoner—he will never see Ser face again. Very soon he falls into vagp.hondnge, and, gnawed by the burning sense of the wrong that has been done him —savage- ly reckless, from vagabondage he sinks into crime, becomes implicated, through his associates, iu a robbery, and is con demned to three years' penal servitude. Jn the meantime, n child has been born to him, of whose existence, or prob able existence, he is ignorant. A sad life Is that of the mother. Mr. Morant would have been kind and good to her, but Madame Berne cannot pardon her. In the eyes of that fanatic, alia is a lost soul—she has strayed from the paths of righteousness, and to show mercy to her would be to participate in her guilt. In this daughter she had hoped to cre ate a second self—a perpetuation of her own austere bigotry—a mirror in whose reflection she could worship her awn im age. Frances* only consolation was her in fant son; Madame Berne would have de prived her even of this had not Mr. Mo rant interfered, and for once carried his point. At the end of three years the poor girl died of a lingering decline. When, at the end of his lerm of im prisonment. the uufort filiate husband, now thoroughly virion* and hardened, rjiine hark to The Willows to claim his wife, a funeral procession stopped the way. An awful scene ensued; not even the sacred presence of the dead could «•! *»ck the wild tempest of passion that burst from the wretched man's lips. He knelt down and cursed the woman the rnuse of jil! his sufferings. From that lime he was utterly lost—remorse, eon seietice. every better feeling, were crush j ed out of his nature. After the mother's death, the child— against whom Madame Heme felt a vir ' ulent hatred, only exceeded by that ! which she felt for the father—spite of a weak opposition on the part of Mr. Mo rant. was banished to the care of a nurse. Two years afterwards the poor little unfortunate was consigned to the guardianship of the Rev. Mr. J'ortcr. Madame Berne determined that Kd ward Morant should never know of its existence, neither should the child be made acquainted with its parentage. Be fore it left the rare of the nurse a friend of the lovers, and who frequently paid a secret visit to the child, sewed up in its frock a locket containing its mother's portrait and a lock of her hair, adding thereto the scrap of writing which Mont gomery had now so strangely discov ered. The locket had been given her by poor Frances on her deathbed. It. Mas all she could do—dared do. Slight as was the link, it might one day prove use ful to the boy in establishing his iden tity. When, after his death, Mr. Morant's will was opened. Madam* Berne was dis covered to have inherited his estate and fortune; but attached was a codicil of a very recent date, making chargeable up on the same an annuity of $2,500 a year to Silas Morant, known as Silas Cars ton. Tht unlocking and opening of the door aroused the dreamer, calling him back from ghosts of ths past to the horrors of the future, in the person of Mr. John Rodwell, who at that moment re-entered the room. "Well," was Rodwell's first word; "do you consent?" "Needs most," answered Montgomery ABERDEEN HERALD, MONDAY. MAY 15 19Q6 sullenly: he feared to change his ton® too suddenly. "By the bye," he added, "1 am forgetting all about the Corin thian. I ain due there at seveu, and is is now live." "The public will certainly be deprived of your brilliant talents this evening," sneered ltodwell. "We shall start about ten. Yon do not suppose that 1 would trust you to go alone after what lias passed? The night air might affect your delicate conscience if you had not a friend by your side." "But who will carry out the second part of your scheme? Who will he your messenger to your uncle?" "Would not a telegram serve the pur pose?" Montgomery started. Was it a sUny shot? or was he discovered? There was a dark, malicious smile <ip on Roilwell's face. "Whatever clever plots you may have been revolving in your fertile brain to overmatch me, wilt only rebound upon yourself. But, in the meantime, dinner is waiting for us in the next room. l.et us eat. and be thankful. Who knows whether we shall ever eat another? Life is so very un certain." Montgomery was not a coward, but there was something in the callous-heart ed levity of this man, who could thus jest upon the eve of an awful crime, that maile his blood run cold. Added to which, h* did not feel by any means cer tain that the telegram had not fallen into his hands. If ho, what then? He shud dered at the thought. Before the dinner was half over, a strange, drowsy sensation began to steal over him. Ten minutes more, and he had fallen senseless from his chair unto the floor. "Case of an overdose," said Mr. ltod well to the servant who was waiting, coolly continuing his meal. "I,ay liini gently upon the couch, and then tell John to put the mare inte the dog-cart. I'll drop the gentleman into his homo as I go along. 1 shall drive myself, and shall not require any one with me." About S> o'clock Montgomery, still in sensible, was lift oil into the dog cart. Mr. Rod well took the reins, and drove away. But not in the direction of Cam den Town; on the contrary, he made towards the open country, taking the samp road that Montgomery had travers ed in the opposite direction a few hours before. He stopped at a wooded, soli tary spot about half a mile off the road way. and, about three miles from the Manor House, unharnessed the mare, took out a saddle and bridle that he had concealed in the boot, and, by the light of a bull's eye lantern, put these upon her. Then he dragged out his helpless companion, threw him across the front of the saddle, leaped into th sat. and after casting a look at the vehicle, which was ensconced under a tree and quite hidden by the darkness, lie galloped away. It w*s h wiJi' night. The wind howl ed mot.YViWliy through the pnssngex and corr!.;»rs of the house down in Essex, swaying the shivering poplars, stripping them of their leaves, and soughing among the branches. Heavy masses of cloud drifted rapidly across the sky. and large drops of rain pattered occasionally upon the dry leaves. At times, the moon broke forth in fitful radiance, hut only to render 1 lie succeeding darkness deeper. There was a terrible spirit abroad that night—a spirit of destruc tion on land and sen. Before the fire in his somber bedroom sat Silas Carston. watching sadly the flickering flames blown about by the draught that came roaring down the huge chimney. He was alone; the nurse had been removed, and his door securely locked. Dark and despairing were his thoughts, and over all there hovered the spirit of the night, boding death. In the chamber above him, watching the tempestuous changes of the sky, with her eyes, but not with her mind, sat Clara. sad, dreary, hopeless, at the mercy of her enemies. She also was a prisoner fast secured, and over her brooded the spirit of the night, boding death. In the kitchen below sat two female servants cowering over the blazing tire, shuddering at the howling wind, and "supping full of horrors" oh ghost stories. In a small rooin upon the same corri dor iu which t'larn's apartment was sit uated, sat the Kev. Mr. Porter, trying to drown dark memories and stupefy re morse. the specters still floated upon the surface, ana the worm gnawed cease lessly. He shivered and looked around, and then crept closer to the cheerful lire. Over him hovered the spirit of the night, boding death. (To be continued.* Married l iiawnres An astonishing story of involuntary marriage is brought to Knglaml by the steamer Anversvllle. which lias just arrived from the Congo. The Belgian officials declare tlie In cessant risings in the Congo Free State to lie due to the missionaries, and they are alleged to lose no opportunity of making things uncomfortable for these self-sacrificing evangelists. Sites for new mission buildings are refused, natives are forbidden to sell food to the missionaries, an exorbi tant lax lots been put on fuel, atnl numberless petty measures of irrita tion are devised. Hecentiy one of the missionaries died on an I'pper River station, and. In accordance with Free State law, three of the dead man's colleagues—a lady and two gentlemen, who were present at the deathbed —traveled to the nearest state post to report the matter to a Belgian official. This official professed to be unable to speak any language but Flemish, which none of the party understood, He made them repeat after hint in Flemish what they believed to tie a declaration as to the cause of death, and then swear to It and sign it. A week later they discovered to their horror that the document they had signed was not a death return, but a marriage certificate, and that the lady, who is over fifty, had been legally married to the younger of her two companions.—-London Express. The colossal statue of Prince Bis marck being erected at Hamburg, will be unveiled In 1908. Its height Is over o0 feet, and the sword U 36 feet long. CH UTKit XXX. SOVEREIGNS OF RUBSIA Mrmbcra of RouinnolT Dynasty Who Have Guided the Kmpire. The Romanoff dynasty of Czars, of which the present Emperor of Russia Is a member, has ruled th» empire 'luce 1013. when Ml •hael Feodorovltch Romanoff was elect ed Czar by an assem bly of representa tives, following a na lonal uprising. The previous rulers, the lescendants of Ivan 111, who threw off die yoke of the Mon gols In 14ti2, became I'KTtH THt; ohi.at. extinct about 1592. and the country lias been torn by wars among the nobles and by popular ris ings against them. It was as the cham pion of the last of these risings that the Romanoff dynasty came into power. The steady growth of the Russian empire began about that time. Mi chael purchased peace from the Poles and devoted himself to strengthening the empire, but under his sou the ter ritory given the Coles was recovered, and his grandson conquered the Cos sacks and fought the first successful war with the Turks. Another grand son of Michael, Peter the Great, is considered In many respects the real founder of the empire as a modern power. It was he who Introduced into the semi-oriental customs of the Rus sians of his day the occidental customs which have been so fruitful a source of trouble ever since. Under Peter the empire wrested territory from the Turks, Poland and Sweden, and the internal administration of the govern ment. as well as Its foreign policy, was placed practically on the footing It now occupies. The next period of rapid develop ment In Russia came under Catherine 11 <17ti2-9»>i, who ascended the throne after causing the murder of her hus band, Peter 111. She furthered the spread of western civilization in the empire, enacted laws favorable to the development of commerce and Indus try. and introduced administrative changes. She was the guiding spirit In the spoliation of Poland, and fought the Turks In two successful wars. Her son. Paul I. carried on a constant fight with his arlstlcracy, and established the censorship of the press and the se cret police system. He was preparing to make war with England when he was assassinated by conspirators. Alexander I. wh:> assumed power In 1801, was a lover of ppHce. and abol ished serfdom in the Baltic provinces. It was he who fought NHpoleon. anil led him Into the disastrous invasion of Russia. The latter years of his reign were less liberal, and Ills son carried on a reactionary policy. His grand son. Alexander 11, however, proved the most liberal of Russia's rulers, and, while prosecuting the expansion of the empire In all directions, instituted many Internal reforms. He abolished the secret police, and was said to be about to propose milked changes In Ihe form of government when be was assassinated In 1881. His son, Alexander 111, took as ad visers the extreme reactionaries and autocrats. He was succeeded In 1N94 by Nicholas 11. the chief feature of whose reign has been the development of Asiatic Russia. Forests Dae to tbe Fogs. A peculiar climatic feature exist* In tile southern part of the Congo valley for 10 degree* south of the equator. The river* and lakes are found to he bordered with a dense vegetation, which extends out from the water a distance proportioned to the extent of the water surface. Adjacent hills and mounttlfcis are often covered with dense vegetation on one side and are hare on the other. Beyond tins bor l derlug vegetation there arc plains, al- I most treeless or with small scrub i growth and thin grass. The explanation Is given as follows' From May to October there Is a dry season, with hot days and fairly cool nights (ofleu fiif degrees Fahrenheit i. The evaporation of the daytime is fol ' lowed l>.v condensation iato fog at night. Tills fog moistens the country adjacent to the water surfaces and onuses a luxuriant growth of vegeta lion. The morning winds blow the fog against the exposed sides of hills and I mountains and up Ihe valleys of '.rib ! utary streams. Wherever the fog is | not carried the country is dry. The natives reflect this characteris tic of their hills by shaving otl the hair from one side of their heads. liense forests are found where tne fugs prevail, while out of range of this moisture there is only a sparse vege tation. tier Inconvenient Kailier. When Miss Alice Roosevelt was a little girl she uttered a complaint that must surely find an echo In the heart nf every willful lawbreaker whose case has fallen into the hands of our un compromising I'resident. Her teacher at school had been in quiring for Mrs. Roosevelt, who was ill. and Alice answered, plaintively: "She isn't much better yet. Yes. it's pretty hard. I'apa stays at home most nil the time, you see. and that makes it dreadfully inconvenient." "Why. how Is that'?" "Oh, don't you see'r He doesn't un derstand. like mamma. When mamma tells me to be home at 4 o'clock, and I get there at half-past, she under stands: but when papa says 4. anil 1 get there at eveu quarter-past — he doesn't understand at all!" Blight IHfferenc*. "There goes a successful author." "(Jreat genius, eh?" "No, I didn't say he was a genius; [ merely said he was a success.'' —At- lanta Constitution. MEMORIAL TO OIIEEN VICTORIA. A magnificent memorial and h gem of architectural beauty Is to be erected In ("alcutto, India, in honor of Hip late (Jueeu Victoria. The build ing U lo Ih* of white marble and the height from the pavement to tihe top of the great central dome will l>e 220 feet. The plana for the magnificent monument to rhe first English empress of the great Oriental land were drawn by a London architect and have the approval of King Edward. A Little Lesson In Patriotism "Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country."—Daniel Webster. Probably no President was ever as unpopular in his own tlm? as was Mar tin Van Buren. One of the worst finan- Ola I panics that ever came to the country happened during his adminis tration. Van Buren reaped the whirl wind w here the financiers of .lack son's administra tion had sown the wind of specula tion. The President became the target for all kinds of po- litieal accusations. VAN lURF.N. Naturally lie was blamed for every thing that occurred In public life that wm* detrimental to the country at large. The good that he did was tor gotten or unpublished. In consequence Ills term of office Is one distinguished by discord and dissatisfaction. He boldly took the unpopular side of several important questions, because he l>elieved them to be the right side, without fear and without favor. Against the pressure of wealth, against tile Influence of his closest friends, he determinedly held out for an elective judiciary, negro suffrage and the sub treasury system. Some of the reforms long ago became an Integral part of the government. Others have not yet come to pass, although there have bten indications that public opinion seemed to veer In their direction. When the time comes that all this is rememliered and associated-with Ills name. Martin Van Buren will be ap preciated as a great Treoldent. THE SLOCUM DISASTER. Monument to Be Krected Over Ori« of Unidentified Dead. Under the direction of the Organiza tion of the Ceneral Slocubi Survivors popular subscriptions are no>w being received for a granite monument, which la to mark the one grave In which sixty-one unidentified vkrtlma of the Sloeum disaster were buried In the Kufheran cemetery at Middle Village, SI.OCt'M DIhASTKK IIKMORIAI.. l.ong Island. Tin- contract for the monument. which is to com $lO.fMtO. lists bf*n placed, and ll is expected the monument will lie in place In time for the unveiling on .litnc IS. the first anniversary of the disaster. Though marking the burial place of Ilie unidentified dead. Hie inonuinent Is Intended to stand a* a general me morial of the disaster, ll will be of granite, bearing on one side a bronze plate with the burning steamer in bas relief. Four life-sine female figures will ornament the monument. One on the right of the central shaft will rep resent Memory, that on the left firief, while the other two figures at the top of the shaft are to represent Faith and Hope. Mounted on a tutse eight and one-half feet sniiare. the monument will rise to a height of twenty feet. The catastrophe which the monu ment is designed to commemorate was one of the most awful in recent Amer ican history. Alwnt If) a. in. on June IS. 11MH. the steamer (ieneral Nloeuui, crowded with men. women and chil dren. on their way to Ijocust firove, lyong Island, where thv annual picnic of the Sunday school of St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Manhattan, was to be held, caught flre In midstream when near North Brother Island, and before she could l>e Itenched had been reduced to n total wreck an<l hundred* of lives were lost through burning and drowning. The official police report on the catastrophe showed the total nuinlx-r of persons who perished was 1,031; the dead recovered, 93N: the missing. 1)3; the injured, 179. ami the uninjured, 2KG. THE KAISER AS PILOT. Kmperor William in Hl» Favorite Hole anSteeramnu of the Knipire. Clad In oilskins and steering llm Herman Rhlp of state through tem pestuous seas, Kaiser Wllhelm figures in a new picture entitled "Our Pilot," which has become the most popular likeness of the Kmperor obtainable In the Fatherland. The picture is the work of the Munich painter, Nathan - ael Schniltt. to whom the Kaiser gav« a series of sittings for the special pur pose of idealizing him In his favorite role —that of the real gulder of the THF. KAINKIt AS "I1LOT." destinies of the German people through the troublous problems of world politic* that beset this strenu ous and mighty nation. The Kaiser Is shown at the wheel of a ship railed Deutsche* Reich —German Empire— which Is depleted as riding serenely through a gale, while the red-white black flag of Germany flapping defi antly at the stern. The Emperor has a realistically flrni grip on the steer ing apparatus, and the artist has im parted to his strong, stern counte nance the loo> of determination and fearlesaness that characterize* the moat Intrepid sea dogs. The original painting, from which millions of copies of all kinds and sixes have since been struck off for popular sale, Is In a Munich gallery. No Official Recognition. The prosecuting attorney's office Is a vwy Imsy place, but It Is not nearly such a hive Industry as It would be If nil the grievances brought to Mr. Mackintosh were allowed to ripen into law suits. "Is 1 his the prosecuting attorney?" It wits a high feminine voice late yes terday afternoon. "It Is? Well, I waited to see you about a garment." "What kind of a garment?" "(Ill—er—er. ladles' garment." "What's the matter with It?" "Why. It doesn't til. It's two whole si7.es too large. My, I should look like a fright." "Is there any way I can help you?" "Why, yes. The man wouldn't take It back. I knew you could fix It." This i-onrtdence touched Mr. MacklntoKh. and drew forth this well considered ad vice: "Well, you see, we haven't any dressmaker here. Better see a dress inaker."—Seattle I'ost-Intelligencer. A lIVMtIDK Place. A witty Imt not altogether respectful native of the British Isle* described an American mugwump as the sort of limn who in Kngland would sit on the hyphen between ('aniphell-Bannerman. It is Interesting to learn from the Schoolmaster that a Juvenile British nilnd lias all unconsciously evolved a similar use for tile hyphen. A short time ago a teacher was tak ing a lesson on the function of the hyphen. Having written a number of examples on the blackboard., the first of which was "bird-cage," lie asked tlie Imj.vs to (five a renson for putting the hyphen betweeu "bird" and "cane." There was a short silence. Then a boy who Is unjustly reckoned anionic I he dunces said: "It is for tile bird to perch on, sir." It la the little cur that is always trying to get even with the big dog.