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Prisoners and Captives By H. S. MERRIMAN CHAPTER XXII. Matthew Mark Easton was a quick thinker if not a deep one, and it is those who think quickly who give quickly. This man had something to give, something to tear away from his own heart and hold out with generous, smiling eyes, and, be fore Miss Winter's door had closed be litnd him, the sacrifice was made. He railed a hansom cab and drove straight to Tyars' club. He found his friend at work among his ship's papers, folding and making up in packets his receipted bills. "Morning," said the Englishman. "These papers are almost ready to be handed over to you. All my stores are on board." •'Ah!" Tyars looked up sharply, and as sharp ly returned to his occupation. Easton was grave, and Tyars knew that he had come with news of some sort. He waited, however, for the American to begin, and continued to fold and arrange his papers. "I have," said Easton, sitting down and trppiug the neat toe of his boot with liis cane, "hit quite accidentally upon a dis covery " "Poor chap!" muttered Tyars, abstact edly. "Which will make a difference in your crew." "What?" exclaimed Tyars, pausing In the middle of a knot. "One rule," continued Easton. his queer little face twisting and twinkling with ■ome emotion, which he was endeavoring to conceal, "was that no sweethearts or wives were to be left behind." "What are you driving at?" asked Tyars, curtly, In a singularly lifeless voice. "Well, old man, I have discovered a sweetheart." Tyars threw the papers In a heap and rose suddenly from his seat. He walked to the mantel piece. "Of course," he said, "your discovery can only relate to one person." "Yes; you know whom I mean." Tyars nodded his head in acquiescence ■nd continued smoking. The little Amer ican sat looking in a curious way at this large, impassive, high-bred Englishman, as If gathering enjoyment and edification from the study of him. "Well," lie drawled, at length, "you say nothing!" "There is nothing to gay. "On the contrary," returned Kaston, "there is everything to any. That is one of the greatest mistakes made by your people. I have noticed it since I have been in this country. You take too much for granted. You let things say them selves too much, and you think it very One to be impassive and apparently Indif ferent. But It is not a flne thing, It is •Illy and unbusiness like. Do you give up Oswin Grace?" "Certainly; If you can get him to stay behind." "He will run his head against a wall If he can. That Is to say, Is there is a thick •ngugh wall around." Tyars hesitated. "I am not quite sure that ft is my business," he said. "I hate meddling in other people's affairs, and. after all, I suppose Grace knows best what he Is doing." "Men rarely know what they are doing under these circumstances," observed Kas ton. He waited patiently, hat In hand, to hear what Tyars had to say. While he stood there. Muggins, the bull-terrier, rose from the hearth rug, stretched himself and looked from one to the other in an in quiring and anticipatory manner. lie took it to lie a question of going for • walk, and apparently imagined that the casting vote was him. "All right," said Tyars, suddenly, "I will speak to him again." "To-dayV" pursued Kaston, following up his advantage, "or to-morrow at the latest." "Yes: to-morrow at the latest." Then the American took his departure, •nd Muggins curled himself up on the hearth rug again with a yawn of disap pointment. .'f Oswin Grace was seated in the bright little cabin at a table writing out lists of •tores. Many of these same stores wen piled on the deck around him. and there was a pleasant odor of paraffine In tne • ir. Tyars closed the cabin door with his elbow. "I do not see," he said, slowly and un comfortably, "how you can very well go with us." Grace laid aside his pen and raised his keen, gray eyes. His brow was wrinkled, his lips set, his eyes full of fight. "Because," suggested Grace, in a hard voice, "I am in love with Agnes Win ters?" Tyars nodded his head and stooped to pick up his gloves, holding them subse quently close to the bars of the stove, where they steamed gayly. There was a silence of some duration, and every sec ond increased the discomfort of Claud Tyars. "And you," continued Grace, at length, very deliberately, "love Helen!" Tyars stood upright, so that his head was very near the beams. He thrust his gloves into his pocket anil stood for some seconds, grasping his short pointed beard meditatively with the uninjured baud. "Yes," he said, "I do." Grace returned to his ship chandler's bills with the air of a barrister who, having established his point, thinks it prudent to allow time for it to sink into the brains of judge and jury. "I do not mind telling you," he added, carelessly, almost too carelessly, "that Miss Winters is perfectly indifferent oil the subjc-ct." "Ho you know that for certain?" asked Tyars, sharply. "She told me so herself," answered Grace, with a peculiar little laugh which was not pleasant to the ear. He waited obviously for a reciprocal confidence on the part of Tyars; but he waited in vain. "Of course," he said, "I have no desire to meddle with your affairs. I ask no questions, and I look for no spontaneous confidences. It will be better for you to lose sight altogether of the coincidence that 1 am—her brother." Tyars had seated himself on the corner of the cabin table, with hi* back half turned toward hit companion. H* had picked up a pi pre of straw, of which there was n quantity lying on table and floor, and this he tfhs biting meditatively. It was as yet entirely a puzzle to him, and this was only a new complication. He could not understand it, just as better men than Claud Tyars have failed to un derstand it all through. For no one, I take it, does understand love, and no man can say whither It will lead. "There need," continued Oswln Grace, perforating a series of small holes In hU blotting paper with the point of a cedar wood pencil, "be no nonsense of that sort. I am going to take it upon myself to watch over Helen's Interests; they are much safer in your hands than in mine." Still Tyars said nothing, and after a little pause, Grace went on, In measured, thoughtful tones, carrying with them the weight of deliberation. "There is one point," he said, "upon which I thiuk there must be an under standing." "Yes," said Tyars anxiously. "Any risks—extra risks, such ns boat work. night-work up aloft —these must be mine. From what you have said, I gath er tlint your intention was to be skipper, and yet do the rough work as well. When anything hazardous is to be done, I shall ilo it. You must stick to the ship." "1 have no doubt," said Tyars, seating himself at the table and beginning to open his letters, "that we are all con structing a very tine mountain out of ma terials intended for a molehill. I, for one, have no Intention of leaving my bones in the far North. There Is no rea son why we should not all be back home by this time next year." "None at all," agreed Oswln somewhat perfunctorily, adding, with a suspicion of doubt the next minute: "Suppose we succeed?" "Well, what then?" "Suppose we get there all right, rescue the men and go on safely; we get over the elemental danger, and then we have to face the political, which is worse." "I do not see it," replied Tyars. "We sell the ship at San Francisco. Half the crew expect to be paid off there, the other half will disperse with their pnssago money in their pockets, and very few of them will find their way back to England. Our doctor is a German socialist, with several aliases: our second mate a sim ple-minded Norwegian whaling skipper. The exiles do not know a word of Eng lish, or pretend they do not, and none of the crew speaks Russian. There will be absolutely no intercourse on board, and only you, the doctor and myself will ever know who the rescued men really are. The crew will Imagine that they are the survivors of a Russian Ivory hunt ing expedition, and if the truth ever comes out, it will be Impossible to prove that you and I knew better." "But It will not be easy to keep the newspapers quiet." "We shall not attempt to keep them quiet. It will only be a local matter. The San Francisco papers will publish libelous woodcuts of our countenances and a column or two purporting to be bio graphical, but the world will be little the wiser. In America such matters are In teresting only In so much as they are per sonal, and there Is in reality nothing easier than the suppression of one's per sonality. There is no difficulty in kick ing an Interviewer out of the room, just as one would kick out any Intruder; and we are quite Indifferent as to whether the American newspapers abuse us or not after having been kicked. As to the de tails of the voyage, I shall withhold those with the view of publishing a book, which is quite the correct thing nowadays. The book shall always be in course of prepara tion. and will never appear." In this wise the two men continued talking, planning, scheming all the morn ing, while they worked methodically and prosaically. The eleventh of March was fixed for the sailing of the Argo, exploring vessel, and Kaston's chief thought on the sub ject was a vague wonder as to what he would do with himself after she had gone. The Argo was to pass out of the tidal basin into (he river at one o'clock, and at half-past twelve Gaston drove up to the dock gates. He brought with him the last items of the ship's outfit In the shape of a pile of newspapers, and a bunch of hothouse roses for the cabin table, for there was to be a luncheon party on board while steaming down the river. lie found Admiral Grace strolling about the deck with Tyars. conversing in quite a friendly way, and endeavoring honestly to suppress his contempt for seamanship of so young a growth as that of his companion. The ladies were below, inspecting the ship under Oswin's guid ance. "She is," he said, addressing himself fo the admiral, with transatlantic courtesy, "a strange mixture of the man-of-war and the yacht—do you not find it so, sir?" "She is." answered the old gentleman, guardedly, "one of the mur complete ves sels 1 have ever boarded—though her outward appearance is, of course, against her." "One can detect," continued the Ameri can, looking round with a musing eye, "the influence of a naval officer." The old gentleman softened visibly. At this moment the ladies appeared, escorted by Oswin Grace —Miss Winter first, with :i searching little smile in Iter eyes. Has ten saw that she was very much on the alert, "1 fee] quite at home," she said to him, looking round her, "although there nre so many i'«»ges." "So do 1 ; the more so because the changes have been made under my own directions." They walked aft, leaving the rest of the party standing together. As they walked, Oswin Grace watched them with a singu lar light In his clear gray eyes; singular because gray eyes rarely glisten, they only darken at times. Presently the vessel glided smoothly be tween the slimy gates out into the open river. The tow-line was cast off, and the Argo's engines started. The vessel swung slowly round on the greasy water, point ing her blunt, stubborn prow down the misty river. She settled to her work with a docile readiness, ilk* a farmer'* mare on th« outward road. ABERDEEN HERALD, MONDAY, AUGUST 27, 1906 CHAPTER XXIII. I7ad an acute but uninitiated observe* been introduced into the little cabin of the Argo during the consumption of the delicate repast provided by her officers, he or she could scarcely have failed to no tice a certain recklessness among the par ty assembled. Admiral Grace was the only one who really did justice to the steward's maiden and supreme effort, and he, in consequence, was singular in fall ing to appreciate the witticisms of Mat thew -Mark Easton and Oswin Grace. This was, perhaps, owing to the fact that when we have passed the half-way milestone in life, we fail to appreciate the most bril liant conversation. It is just possible that Admiral Grace did not think very much of the wit—taken as wit pure and simple. His position was not unique. Once or twice Easton's words recurred to Miss Winter: "I intend to be intense ly funny, and I guess you will have to laugh." This was her cue, and she acted upon It. The meal came to an end and a move waa made. There was nothing else to do but to go on deck. The moments dwin dled on with the slow, dragging monotony which makes us almost Impatient to see the last of faces which we shall perhaps never look upon again. Presently, the town of Gravesend hove in sight, and all on the quarterdeck of the Argo gazed it it as they might have gazed on some un known Eastern city after traversing the desert. And then, after all —all the wait ing, the preparation, the counting of mo ments, and the calculating of distances — the bell in the engine room came as a surprise. There was something startling in the clang of gong as the engineer re plied. Helen was the last to rise. She stood holding the shawl which Oswin had spread over her knees, and looked round with a strange, intense gaze. The steam er was now drifting slowly on the tide with resting engines. There were two boats rowing toward her from Gravesend Pier, one a low, green-painted wherry for the pilot, the other a larger boat, with stained and faded red cushions. The scene—the torpid, yellow river, the sor did town and low riverside warehouses — could scarce have been exceeded for pure, unvarnished dismalness. Already the steps were being lowered. In a few moments the larger boat swung alongside, held by a rope topde fast in the forecastle of the Argo. A general move was made toward the rail. Tyars passed out on the gangway, where he stood waiting to hand the ladies into the boat. Helen was near to her brother; she turned to him and kissed him in si lence. Then she went to the gangway. There was a little pause, and for a mo ment Helen and Tyars were left alone at the foot of the brass-bound steps. "Good-by," said Tyars. There was a slight prolongation of the laat syllable, as If he hnd something else to say; but he never said It,, although she gave him time. "Good-by," she answered, at length; and she, too, seemed to have somethlug to add which was never added. Then she stepped lightly into the boat and took her place on the faded red cushions. The Argo went to sea that night. There was much to do, although everything seemed to be In Its place, and every man appeared to know his duty. It thus hap pened that Tyars and Grace had not a moment to themselves until well on Into the night. The watch was set at 8 o'clock. For • moment Tyars paused be fore leaving his chief officer alone on the little bridge. "What a clever fellow Easton Is!" he said. "I never recognized it until thi* afternoon." (To be continued.) ROUNDUP OF WILD HORSES. Hanore In State of Washington to Cleared of tirami ConMumvrs, One of the most exciting chases, If It may be so called, that has taken pluce since the era of the grand buffalo hunt ended on the great plateau, Is the pro posed round up of 18,<)00 wild horses In Douglas County, Washington. As sched uled, 400 cowboys will take part In the ride after those wild creatures of the range. The purpose is to rid the range of this groat baud of grass consumers and the effort, presumably, will be to dispatch rather than capture the horses. Those untamed and practically un tamable animals are the product of na ture left to Itself on the great range for thirty years. The stock is Interbred and. of course, underbred, and has no place In the economy of civilized life. While Its extermination will l>e a gain to the legitimate stock breeding and raising Interests of the section over which the horses have so long roamed at will, the Instincts of humanity are shocked at the cruelties that will be I t dieted through the means by which tlii purpose Is to lie accomplished. Perhaps this Is the best tlint can l o done at this stage of affairs to rid :i wide section of the country of a verita ble pest to the stock Industry, Like many other scourges, the remedy for this plague of wild horses lays in pre vention. The careless settlers of thirty years ago who allowed their |>onles to run uncared for on the range year after year were culpable ill this matter. The result lias been a multiplication of un profitable animals that have eaten out the grass on the range for years to the detriment of the Interests of a legiti mate stock Industry. Now comes the necessity of repairing the consequences of the settlers' carelessness and a "roundup" looking to the extermination of thousands of those wild creatures, with such cruelties as will be necessary to accomplish that end. The chase will be an exciting one. no doubt, and the ultimate result will be beneficial. Bnne nnd Sinew. "Do you see that dlstlngulslied-look- Ing man over there with Blue-colored whiskers? Well, he furnishes the bone and sinew of the nation." "You don't say. Is he the head of a physical culture college?" "Nope." "Recruiting station?" "•Way off." "Then what Is his line?" "Why, he runs a 8 cent lunchroom." OPINIONS OF GREAT PAPERS ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS THE VINDICATION O* DBBYFUS. HE Dreyfus drama la closed at laat with a triumph of Justice. To say that the triumph was complete would be an error, because there has been act after act In which Ir remediable Injustice has been done. Drey fus himself haa suffered so terribly In mind and body that no human tribunal could ever rectify his wrongs. Men who rallied to hie assistance received Injuries from which recovery waa Impossible. An unspeakable clique of rogues prospered far too long while the Innocent and the true were aubjected to perse cution. These are facts that should not be overlooked when the vindication of the accused is considered. The restora tion to his rank In the army Is an Insurance for the fu ture, his reputation and the reputations of his support ers hnve Anally overcome calumny, but atonement for the cruelties of the past Is Impossible. The Impressive dl'lslon of that great court of forty nine Judges must be regarded ns though It concerned an other defendant, namely, the Republic of France, and In this view it Is a confession. The Judges sny, In effect, that the French army was dominated by contemptible scoundrels and criminals; that ministry after ministry aided or condoned the offenses of these villainous con spirators; that the lpgal trials of Dreyfus were a mock ery, and that the Infamous "affaire" was a stain upon the honor of the nation. It Is Impossible to develop much enthusiasm over such a retrospect. The most that can be done Is to dig up excuses out of political conditions, and these were long ago wasted on foreigners. But "bet ter late than never." and France will profit In reputa tion by the action of the Supreme Court.—Chicago Rec ord-Herald. THE FALL OF THE FORESTS. N the very near future this country will be suffering a lumber famine. Tbe once mighty forests have gone, or are going, like grass before a scythe. The lumber rut In this country In 190 ft Is stated by the Department of Agriculture at 27,738,000.000 cubic feet. The vast propor tions of this slaughter of the forests may be appreciated by Imagining the lumber to be nil of Inch thickness, making a "board walk" ",000 feet wide from New York to San Francisco. Black walnut has almost disappeared. Oak has be come a rare wood, (ieorgla pine, once cheap. Is costly. There Is little more white pine, and one of the diffi culties of building now Is that there Is no substitute of quite such versatile usefulness. Only S.fi per cent of the year's cut conies from this noble tree. The once despised hemlock furnishes almost three times as much. In the scarcity of better lumber, poplar and basswood. which the American of 18T>0 did not consider fit for firewood, furnish more than white pine. Maine and Michigan are no longer the great dumber States. The Pacific slope and the gulf lead to-day, Wash ington being the chief lumber State and Louisiana second. Arkansas, Mississippi, North Carolina, Texas, Alabama, Georgia and Virginia make with Louisiana eight Southern States, each of which leads Maine In the amount of lum her produced. How the huge annual cut of lumber and the ravages of forest fires as well shall be replaced Is one of the most Important problems with which this country has to deal. AUSTRALIAN MESSAGE - BTICKB. Their Served a* Vonchera In Primi tive Korma of Trade. Considerable mystery has always at tached to the so-called "message-sticks" used by natives of Australia, bearing marks that are often supposed to take the place of wrltteu characters In the transmission of Information. There Is no doubt that these curiously marked sticks are carried by messengers from one body of natives to another, but It Is asserted by Walter Roth, who writes on the subject In one of the ethnograph ical bulletins of the Queensland gov ernment, that they do not serve In themselves to convey Information, but are merely used for purposes of Iden tification. Says Mr. Roth, as quoted In Knowledge and Scientific News: "The limited quantity and portability of a native's personal goods offer little or 110 opportunity for the use of prop erty marks. If weapons are of the same cut, there are minute, yet suffi cient. ili.Verenees which are recogniz able to the owner; even if similarly ornamented, no two are so alike that they cannot be distinguished. In a general way, each having sufficient for his own wants, and no person having more than another, there Is nothing to thieve and hence the lenity with which theft, even when It occurs, Is regarded. Only In cases of trade and barter, through an Intermediary, where it Is essential that one Individual's goods should be distinguished from another's, Is there a necessity for a definite prop erty mark, this taking the form of a so-called 'letter' or 'message-stick.' Un der such circumstances the 'stick' may be put into use as follows: Charlie, residing at Roulla. wants, we will sily, some pituri, but being prevented by sickness or some other cause from go ing himself, sends some relative or friend Peter to the nearest market on the Mulligan River to get some for him, and gives liini a 'message-stick.' "Arrived at last at his destination, Peter is asked his business, tells who has sent him, hands over the 'stick,' and establishes his bona fides. The bagful of pituri being at last forth coming. the vender returns the 'stick' to Peter, but not before taking careful mental note of It, so as to be sure of recognizing it again. Peter returns at last to Charlie at Roulla. and deliv ers up both pituri and stick. It now remains for Charlie to pay for the pi turi with spears, boomerangs, etc. If he can prevail on Peter to take a sec ond trip, all well and good, but If not, as Is usually the case with so long a Journey, he either proceeds himself or sends another messenger with the goods and the Identical 'message-stick' as be fore. lie, or the second messenger, ar- Editorials riving at the Mulligan, finds the ven der and gives him the spears, boomer angs, etc., together with the 'stick.' Recognizing the latter, the seller ac cepts the various articles In payment for the bagful of pitur! which li« part ed with some few weeks previously, knowing now that he has been paid by the right person, probably |>erßonftlly unknown to hlin —I. e., the seuder of the original 'stick.'" Mr. Roth states his absolute convic tion that the marks on the stick* do not convey any communication, In the ordinary sense of the term; the same message may accompany different sticks, or the same stick different mes sages, and the stick may bear no marks at all. He goes on: "I have been given a stick to take with a certain message to another dis trict, and purposely mislaid It tem iwrarily, In order to secure another specimen. Again, 'second-hand' sticks may he used over and over again by strangers, who certainly have had no knowledge of the original manufactur ers. Sometimes a broken twig Is suf ficient. without any Incisions whatever, and I have often seen a piece of tea tree bark, or even a rag. Just tied round and round with twine, to consti tute the so-called letter. To put the matter plainly, the message Is taken verbally, the stick serving only to ac centuate the bona fides of the messen ger ; If the messenger is known to both parties, no stick Is sent. On the other hand, there Is more or less uniformity recognizable In the shape of the sticks manufactured In different areas; the flat feather sha|ie of the Roulla dis trict bears a strong contrast to the squared form of the letters met farther north. Occasionally the stick may be affixed with twine to a handle, carried Vertically In front, and the suggestion has been offered that this expedient Is resorted to when the messenger Is trav eling through hostile country, so as to give him Immunity for trespassing; my experience Is that, under such cir cumstances, he would avoid any risk of being seen by traveling only by night. 1 have often seen a civilized black boy on the road holding In front of him a short twig, In the split ex tremity of which an envelope, etc., has been Inserted; at a distance it resem bles a flag somewhat." Task of Washlnw an Hiephant la a Serlons Kvrnt In a Cirrus. Some folks object to the unclean ap pearance of an elephant, but they prob ably do not know that an elephant has only one bath a year, and has to con tent Itself during the remainder of the time with a dry rub of sand or dust. The elephant's bath Is a serious thing Some of the great ralhvay companies are planting treea by the millions to provide tlea for the future. The gov ernment haa been feebly attempting experiments In for estry. But far more thorough measures than any yet undertaken must be resorted to, and that speedily, If the next generation of Americana Is not to be left without lumber.—Kansas City World. THE COUNTRY TELEPHONE. HE farmer"! wife ha* a new resource. Her lot has been Improved In many ways In tbe last ten yean. The "separator" and tbe creamery bare relieved her of the severest toll of the dairy. The rural free delivery brings magaslnes and newspapers to her door. Lately the telephone has put her with in visiting distance of her neighbors. Tbe nearest farmhouse may be half a mile away, and the village three miles. The lines of poles and the wires, perhaps merely the wire fence, have suddenly drawn her Into an Intimate relation to both, unknown to her before. To one who has never experienced the solitude of the farm It Is hard to realize the Joy of the wife ami mother at being able to consult a friend about the cut of the baby's coat, tbe recipe for mince pies, or the dose of cough sirup. I The demand for the telephone In the country Is Imper ative. "Everybody's got one," said tbe village storekeeper to a city visitor. "Why, there's three families that's being helped by the town, and every one of 'em has got a tele phone. Old Mis' Besrce says she'd rather go without her victuals than have the telephone taken out!" What a testimony to the desire for human companion ship! The gossiping Instinct some cynical critic will say. But. after all, what Is that but the wish to com pare notes on the perennially Interesting study of human nature —a study a* fascinating to the unknown country woman as to the famous psychologist?— Youth's Com panion., THE VULGAR RICH. ANY years ago George William Curtis wrote n little parable tlint now reads like a proph ecy. He represented himself as having been asked to the house of a rich man. and when asked by another whether he was going, he Raid: "Will he give me any of his money?" The man to whom he spoke was astonished at the question, and asked why he supposed that tills would be done. Curtis went on to say that when he went to see a literary man or an artist or a distinguished so cial leader or a reformer or a scholar, he got something from Ills host —Information, pleasure, Inspiration, the charm of fine society, etc. In other words, every man gave him of that of which he hud most. The rich man had only money, therefore, so the essayist argued, lie should give It to those who visited him. There Is, of course, no flaw In the logic. For society exlßts that men may give something to It and get something from It. If this condition be not fulfilled there can be 110 society. And this means that a man who has nothing but his money has no social value of any sort. When he steals his money—as many rich men do to-day—we have only another reason for excluding him. A fortune based on bribery and corruption, on bought franchises, on traffic In foul food and drink. Is a vulgar and detestable thing. It Is time that this truth were enforced on our people.— Indianapolis News, ONE BATH EACH YEAR. not only for the elephant, but for the at tendants as well. It takes from ten to twelve weeks to wash thoroughly the herd of forty elephants at the winter quarters of a big circus. Thousands of square feet of hide must be cleaned and softened. The sktn Is first prepared by a care ful oiling, the ointment being rubbed well Into the hide by si* or eight men at work on each animal. The oil Is applied with swabs of cot ton waste, some of the men attacking the elephant's legs, while others climb ladders and rub the upper regions of tiie huge neck. A keeper stands beside the animal's trunk with a hooked stick, ready for any emergency, for If a lad der should be overturned by a kick the oily back would be hard holding for those on top. A course of massage completes the anointing and work Is suspended for two weeks. The next treatment consists of a thorough scrub bing. which brings off heavy layers of crust which have been loosened by the oil. Then the entire surface Is sandpa pered—a most tedious operation. As many as ten men are detailed for each animal, and they are scattered all over the enormous body. The sandpapering Is a sort of beauty treatment, for It eliminates all the deep wrinkles. On Its completion the elephant comes forth to all appearances as good ns new. After It has had a steaming, somewhat after the manner of a Turkish bath, Its toilet Is completed and It Is ready for public presentation. The arduous season on the road gives the animals plenty of exercise. Twen ty of them ore performers In the ring and their education has progressed to such an extent that they are said to bo able to do almost anything except "thread a needle or read Shakspeare." The other half of the herd does the drudgery work of the show and Is an essential part of the working crew that loads and unloads the trains. Oue oc cupies the position of a monitor and maintains discipline In the herd; an other is a sort of a maid who carries hay and other food for baby 800 and her mamma elephant. There are no loafers In the herd, each having duties which require dally attention. Nut Hterlln®. Mr. oaddl f'oormans celebra ted their silver wedding last night, didn't they?" Mrs. Gaddle —Oh, no; I saw all the presents. Mr. Gaddle —Kli? What do you mean? Mrs. Gaddle —It seems to have been a silver-plated wedding. — Catholic Standard and Times.