Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume], February 05, 1909, Image 6

About Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917

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^Phe \ A/"hited Qepulchre
X. The V V Tale of Pelee
By Will Lèvington Comfort
Copyright, 1934* by Will Leyintrtoii Comfort
Copyriiht, 1907. by J. B. Liffircott Compant. All rltthu reteryed
CHAPTER VII.—(Continued.)
"I guess that's right, too. 3o you had
to lock up Stembridge?"
"Tes, I found it advisable one day af
ter he had tried to steal the ship—whilf
I was ashore in San Juan," Constabh
explained ingeniously. "I'm glad you
came, because it will save me from taking
him back. That is, unless you decide
that I'll have to go back, too. I did pla\
retty rough with you, but your man
ad me going strong about that time
You've got to acknowledge that he's an
artist. Let's get out of this. What do
you plan to do?"
"Go out and get Stembridge, and settle
with you."
"The word 'settle' usually refers to
dollars up in the States," Constable said
delicately.
"It doesn't pay to buck the detective
bureau, Constable, and I'm—authorized
to take cash for your part—this time."
"How much?"
"Five thousand dollars and expenses."
"It costs money to keep you off one's
•hip."
"I'm Crusoe of the detective bureau,
and I usually go where I please," was
the dulcet - answer.
"I'll have to go out to the ship to get
so much money," Constable declared re
signedly.
"I'll have to go out to the ship to get
Stembridge," said Crusoe. "We'll go to
gether."
"Where are your men?"
"I'm working alone this trip."
"You can pick up a couple of gen
darmes to help you, if you think you'll
need help," Constable suggested. This
was the galvanic instant.
Crusoe glanced at him keenly. He had
been able to pick no flaw in the moment's
talk. He was a shrewd man in his line
And schooled, but Constable had rung
true. There is no inclination on the
part of the public at large rto concede
brilliance of acumen to the heirs of mill
ions, unless the sparkling quality has been
exposed in a strong light. The suggestion
concerning the gendarmes, and a last
glance into the face of the young man,
vanquished Crusoe's final doubt.
"I can handle Stembridge very tidily,
having your moral support," he declared.
"He'B too old a bird to resist arrest when
he's once cornered."
"Just as you say," Constable said
swiftly. "Turn your rig about and fol
low on. My launch is ahead, at the
Sugar Landing."
It was not until the other was behind,
and the back of his own carriage shut
ting off the view, that Constable realized
he had lost his headache, and was drench
ed with perspiration. It was now eight.
The ladies had agreed to be ready at nine,
In case Uncle Joey had returned with
the mail by that time. His several er
rands must wait. The present matter
would take the entire time, and must be
done decently and in order. The driver
was commanded to make good speed to
the launch, which was in readiness. Cru
soe dismissed his rig ; Constable bade his
driver wait, and the two men boarded.
"Make her buzz, Ernst," the owner said
to the sailor in charge. "I'm expiring
for a drink and a mouthful of clean air."
Crusoe was deeply interested in the
preaent manifestation of Martinique's cli
mate, and was not readily diverted to the
subject which challenged his companion.
Once launched, however, upon the deal
ings of Nicholas Stembridge, alias Hay
den Breen, he became fluent, and Con
stable learned that his guest was "the
Rajah's Diamond" among the swindlers
of civilization.
Stembridge, according to Crusoe, had
started a Central American revolution in
order to seize a range of rich silver hills ;
had made good, worked the mines, and
sold them, a year later, "salted to a
brine," to a syndicate of New York capi
talists. He bad engineered the Yar
month-Leams oil syndicate which disor
dered London financiers for a day. Of
these and other Interesting engagements
Constable learned as the launch sped
across the fouled harbor.
"What does this prince of manipula
tors do with all his money?" he asked
finally.
"Well, you see," Crusoe replied, "he
has his army to pay, and he must pay
the men pretty well, for the rumor is
abroad that they would go on the cross
for him. And then he is a golden glory
of a spendthrift. I've heard that Paris
looks for his second coming as for a Mes
siah, since he has promised the Tender
loin a punch from the Milky Way. * • •
Here we are. Perhaps you don't think I
was pleased to see your craft lying here
this morning when I came in on the Pan
ther?"
"I presume you were," Constable re
plied idly.
They were on the ship's ladder, Crusoe
walking ahead. The sailor above, on the
main deck of the Madame, caught a
strange gesture from Constable's hand,
and a stranger expression from the eye
of his owner. The sailor did not under
stand exactly, but he stood ready for
anything that might occur, and accord
ingly made haste to assist when Consta
ble sprang forward and pinioned the
newcomer about the waist. Crusoe ac
cepted his defeat nervily, but when his
gun was removed and his wrists enclosed
for the time being in his own manacles
he regarded his captor with eyes of hate,
in which a little reproach was mingled.
"What's^ your lay. Constable?" he in
quired almost steadily. "You're smarter
than Z thought, and a deal more crooked."
"Listen," the other said hurriedly. "I
didn't like to do this, but there wasn't
any way out of it I've got a lot on my
mind this morning, and you complicated
matters. It may be that I'm saving your
life. The mountain yonder looks as if
he were about to blow his brains out,
and I couldn't be interrupted until I got
certain ladies safely aboard here from the
town. As for the fascinating person you
call Stembridge, he may be my guest, and
he may not. I'll see you about that later
on. He's been square as a plumb-line to
as*. You're a good man, Crusoe, and
Breen is, too. Your lines are different,
hat's all. You'll get your five thousand
hat I promised to-day. Just sit tight,
ind call for anything you want. We'll
<e good frien Is yet. * * * Captain
Vegley, have Mr. Crusoe quartered pleas
antly aft, and tell Macready to serve him
with anything he desires. I'll be back
with the ladies in about an hour. You'll
>f course have the ship keyed for a sprint
to Fort de France."
Constable hurried down the ladder, and
in instant later was again in the launch,
which was aimed at the low-hanging pall,
hack of which lay the tortured city. It
was now twenty-five minutes to nine. He
could make the plantation house slightly
after the hour.
It was but a moment from the pier to
the carriage, and then the half-strangled
ponies struggled gallantly through Rue
Victor Hugo and up the morne toward
the plantation house. Uncle Joey's rig
was at the gate, good evidence that the
mails had been brought.
Constable entered the house hastily at
ten minutes past nine. There was a
word of cheer upon his lips. No one was
in the library or the music room ; no one
but a maid servant was on the lower
floor. She was gathering up the litter of
broken envelopes and newspaper wrap
pings upon the library table. Constable
imagined that the maid servant regarded
him strangely. He ran to the stairway
and called :
"Are you almost ready, ladies?"
He heard footsteps above and low
voices; then a door opened -and Mrs.
Stansbury crossed the upper hall and
appeared at the head of the stairway. Al
ready he was filled with a confusion of
alarms.
"Pardon me for calling you, but every
thing is ready—as soon as you can come."
"We are not going on your yacht, Mr.
Constable," the elder woman said coldly.
He sprang up the stairs and faced her
in the dim light. Two or three times in
his life he had become cold like this,
some trait of his breed equipping him
with an outward calm, when the issue of
the moment was won or lost, but lifted
from his hands.
"What is the latest difficulty, please?"
"I would rather npt discuss the mat
ter, Mr. Constable."
"May 1 speak with Miss Stansbury?"
It was not given to the mother to ac
cede or refuse, for the door behind her
was opened and the girl stood in the aper
ture, her anguished eyes intent upon him.
"I returned to announce that every
thing is ready," he said quietly, "and your
mother tells me that you are not going."
"No, we are not going," she repeated
in a lifeless voice.
"Is it too much for me to ask why?"
She did not answer at once, but seemed
trying to penetrate his brain with her
eyes. "Then, you have not seen the New
York papers?" she said. "You may have
this. The others are below."
She handed him the front page of a
daily journal, dated three weeks before.
His own name was there, and not in
honor. When he looked up from the pa
per the door was shut. Constable went
below.
"Where is Mr. Wall?" he dully inquir
ed of the maid servant.
"He went out to the plantation, sir,
immediately upon bringing in the mails."
"Where is Mr. Breen?"
"He went down to the city, sir."
Constable left the house and walked
rapidly out the driveway, turning toward
Saint Pierre. Here the man's pride in
tervened. He had committed a folly,
perhaps, but no broad evil. The state
ments of the press were farcical. Lara
Stansbury should not have allowed her
mother and the New York reporters to
shake her trust. With reaction piling
upon him its most bitter and tragic
phases, Peter Constable conceded his fail
ure as a lover, and turned to his second
ary passion—Pelee.
CHAPTER VIII.
Breen was not wholly unconscious of
danger when the large bundle of New
York papers was brought with the mails
Into the library. The ladies had busied
themselves over a joint epistle from Mr.
Stansbury, and were scanning the front
pages of the journals, when a sudden
exclamation from Mrs. Stansbury inti
mated the ugly truth. Breen was chang
ed from guest to outlaw. Miss Stansbury
followed her mother upstairs, the former
bearing the paper with her. A second
account of the demoralizing Incident was
not difficult to find. Breen read the fol
lowing hastily :
"The Madame de Staël, Mr. Peter Con
stable's splendid private yacht, cleared for
West Indian ports this morning, having
on board the young millionaire-owner
and, it is alleged, Nicholas Stembridge,
the notorious revolutionist, adventurer,
and swindling promoter.
"The purpose in common of the capi
talist and fortune hunter cannot be told.
Mr. Constable has figured in the public
prints on several occasions, but chiefly
through his eccentric ideas of practical
philanthropy. So far as is known, he has
never before allowed himself to be sub
jected to the attention of the police. It
is feared that he will lose at both ends
as a result of his present affiliations.
"Mr. Constable's friends aver that the
young millionaire could not have under
stood the character of his companion for
the voyage, and point out that Nicholas
Stembridge, at his best, is a man of fasci
nating manners and rre personal accom
plishments. It has been added also that
Mr. Constable is of a most impulsive tem
perament, and apt to choose his compan
ions from queer arteries of society. The
young man's Innocent intent, however,
might more readily be accepted, were it
not for the important fact that Nicholas
Stembridge, who is known to have been
in hiding for several days in New York,
was seen on board the de Staël shortly
before she sailed; positively recognized,
it la said, by an astute and reliable mem
ber of the local detective force."
▲ spirited description of the episode on
a
the Brooklyn pier followed ; also a por
tion of Nicholas Stembridge's police rec
ord. The conservative character of the
paper in which the foregoing appeared
led Breen to believe that the account
which had fallen into Mrs. Stansbury's
hand might be considerably more emblaz
oned and embellished. His first thought
was that he had become a source of hor
ror to the women, and that he must put
himself out of their sight.
Breen was not a conscienceless man. A
fatalist, a spendthrift, a power that prey
ed upon the powers that prey, a polished
reveller—all these he might be, but his
blood was clean from the taint of person
al treachery. He had come to like Con
stable. The friendship was guileless. He
had even thought, with a trace of humor
in certain moments. ' that it was worth
being called back from the Brooklyn pier
for such a large and clear emotion. It
is possible that he had never in his life
been troubled as now, having brought a
vital hurt to the man he wished only to
serve. His face showed nothing, not even
the heat of the day. as he left the house.
His own body had felt all. even the
moral dissolution which crawls into the
brain to prepare a place for the sinister
guest, suicide. The law of cause and ef
fect, unable to find any hold upon him
self nor inspire any fear this side of
death, had linked him with another, and
made that other suffer through him.
Breen was smitten with the ugliest pun
ishment that clean fiber is given to writhe
beneath—that of seeing a - friend beaten
to the ground by the rebounding volley
of one's own sins.
Half way down the Morne d'Orange,
he saw Constable's launch turn shoreward
from the ship. Constable was probably
aboard. Breen wasn't ready yet to meet
the man he had hurt. He must think.
Moreover, by no means did he ignore the
possibility of the Panther bringing one
of his logical enemies, nor was he ready
to face an accumulation of consequences
in the shape of a man hunter. He turn
ed to the right at the base of the morne,
and made his way up one of the winding
paths to the terraced streets. That his
steps led him to the fruit shop, where he
had planned not to go again, seemed now
but a paltry addition to the incubus
which had so suddenly possessed him.
At the first terrace he turned and star
ed back through the smoke. The launch
had just touched the pier at the Sugar
Landing. The tall figure of Constable
stepped forth and hastened to the car
riage, which was driven rapidly toward
the morne. Breen smiled, because it was
easier for him to smile than to cry for
mercy. Constable was being driven swift
ly to the plantation house, where he
would find the ugly work that had been
done there. Mrs. Stansbury would not
board a ship that had been a thief's
refuge.
Rue de Rivoli was white and empty.
The door of the shop was shut but not
locked, and the little round window dark
ened with a cloth. Breen entered, slam
ming the door quickly, to keep out the
hot, poisoned air of the street. The dark
shop was as empty of humans as the
thoroughfare, but a quick step sounded in
the rear. Pere Rabeaut entered from the
ash-quilted court.
"What a day, M. Breen ! The birds
are dead and dying. Soronia is ill unto
death-—"
"Soronia ill !" Breen said under his
breath.
The old man hastened away. At the
rear doorway, Soronia pushed by him.
Her hair was unfastened, and the loose
white garment that she wore was open at
the throat. The father stared as if she
were a specter. His lips moved, and he
turned suddenly to the man standing in
front of the shop. She moved toward
the American.
Her eyes aroused him. The darknesa
had no power to divest them of expres
sion, for the passions were burning there
—fear lest this was not flesh which filled
her gaze ; ecstasy in that he was there at
all, in life or death or dream. His act of
yesterday had wrought the ghastly pallor ;
the deathly illness was heart-starvation.
She touched his shoulder and his cheek
with chilling hands; there fell from her
lips strange, low words of no language
that he knew. Suddenly she caught his
hand to her breast, whispering that she
had feared she was dreaming.
"What were you dreaming, little one?"
he questioned.
"I thought I was dying when I heard
your voice. You said—you said you
would come no more."
"But did I not come, little fairy? Who
could remain away from you?"
She seized his face in her cold hands,
whispering, "Do you mean that you will
stay?"
(To be continued.)
I.Mdingr Freight by Cards.
"I don't know whether the practice
is still kept up in the far south, but I
remember how tickled I was at seeing
the method used In loading goods into
freight cars down in Mississippi some
while ago," said a railroad man of St.
Louis.
"A lot of strapping black fellows will
be on the job under the supervision of
a white man, who will be issuing or
ders with great volubility. 'Put this
aboard the king of diamonds ; take this
to the ace of hearts; load this on the
ten of spades ; this to the jack of clubs,'
and so on, and then you'll notice each
one of the long line of freight cars has
tacked on it some one of the fifty-two
cards composing a full deck. The Sen
egamblan loafers for the most part
were ignorant of letters and figures,
but every man of them knew the paste
board emblems which he had often
bandied in games of seven up. That
next to craps is the chief diversion of
the colored sports of Dixie."—Balti
more American.
Tbe Renton.
"I was sitting In a crowded car to
day when Mrs. Nabor got on."
"Did she thank you for your seat?"
"Er —no."
"That's funny! She has such a rep
utation for being polite; I wonder why
she didn't."
"She didn't get it"—Houston Post.
Hit Jotth Number..
Bleeker—Do you believe that thir
teen is an unlucky number?
Meeker—You bet I do. My wife wag
the thirteenth woman I proposed to.
Editor
Opinions of Great Papers on Important Subjects.
4* 44*<{ < 4 M M44«4 | 4 i 44 4*444*4*4444444*4*4*444*4*4*4444444*' <
SHOOTING AT AIRSHIPS.
I
T is not going to be all easy sailing for
the flying machines when once they be
come the commonplace occupants of the
air. They will face dangers which are
not entirely of the suspended law of grav
itation. Wheu the great balloon race was
run from St. Louis in the attempt to reach
the Atlantic shore, several of the balloons were fired
on, one of them four times, while in the state of Ohio.
A German balloon was shot at by guards while it was
crossing the Russian frontier Inst week.
This, we suspect, is a peril likely to be a permanent
feature of air sailing. Hunters, far from the neighbor
hood of the constable and having a grim, Italian sense
of humor, will find delight in talcing a shot at flying
machines. Irresponsible youngsters on housetops will
try to pepper dirigibles in the same temper of impu
dence that they throw stones at passing railroad trains.
Punishment is remote, the temptation, not a small one,
and a curiosity to see what would happen strong. Police
lng the earth for the protection of aeronauts will be a
difficult labor.—Toledo Blade.
DO WOMEN HURT THE CHURCH ?
E is a bold man who dares say so, yet here
are the words of Rev. John Baleom Shaw,
of Chicago, in the columns of the Homil
etic Review ;
"Men are naturally democratic. Left
to themselves they seldom draw sharp so
cial lines or insist upon conventional dis
tinctions. What do we find in the one sphere where
they are supreme—the political world? XIow much class
distinction exists there? Not so with women. They are
more gregarious, but at the same time more conventional.
Is not fashion their standing incrimination at this bar?
If rich, they are the more exclusive; if poor, the more
sensitive. Social lines existing in the world without
they have extended into the sacred inelosure of the
church, until to-day there is no more conventional body
among us than the well-to-do Christian church. Noth
ing hurts us so much as this one condition, and for its
existence I hold our women almost exclusively respon
sible."
Such reasoning comes with a shock to those who have
been brought bp to believe that women were the main
support of the church, that they carried it forward
when men were too lazy or too indifferent, and that the
H
a
I THE SAFETY OF THE SEA. I
The landsman, safe in his snug bed,
pities the poor sailor, whose narrow
berth swings at the mercy of the waves.
The "tar," on the other hand, feels
more security among the tumbling bil
lows than among the perils of the dry
land. An old sailor, whom James
Greenwood describes in "The Wilds of
London," gives expression to the dan
gers of the shore from the nautical
point of view, and backs up his argu
ment with personal experience.
"It's safer than on shore, that's my
opinion, though, mind you, I never
really liked the sea. For eight years I
never put out without being seasick.
Ain't that true, missus?"
"Aye, sir, that it is," answered the
wife. "Many a time I've seen him
shudder at the sight of his great boots
as he was pulling them on before he
went down to the boat"
"Well, well," continued the sailor,
"I ain't the only one. What I was
going to say is this, that I never was
one who took kind to the sea, but I al
ways thought, and now I am downright
sure, that it's safer than being ashore."
"I'd be glad to know aow you make
that out," said I.
"I'll tell you, sir. I've been fisher
man for thirty-five years and never
got hurt, and how many landsman can
say that?"
"Never got a scar, you mean," inter
rupted the wife. "Bless the man ! Hs's
got hurts enough !"
"How?" asked her husband.
"Why, how many times have you been
washed overboard?"
"Pooh! How many times have you
washed plates and dishes, old lass?"
replied the fisherman, impatient that
his good lady should think such trifles
worth mentioning.
"And twice run into and foundered."
"That hurt the owner a sight more'n
it did me."
"And once the lightning struck you.
Surely you don't forget that, William?"
"And didn't it strike the market
house ashore the same night, and didn't
it rive the old pollard up on Wilson's
land? Didn't it kill Millar's horse the
same night, as it stood in the stable?
Don't tell me, old lass! It's three to
one more dangerous on land. I wonder
you can talk so after t'other night!"
"That was an accident."
"Yes, one of your shore accidents!
Never had such a fright in all the
years I've been at sea. Tell you how
It was. I'd been out three nights, and
was glad to get ashore, and lie down in
bed for an hour or more. Old lass the
goes to market. 'Don't you touch thlugs
drying about the fire,' says she.
"Well, I falls off, and presently I
gets it into my head that I'm being
drowned, and have to fight for my life.
So I wakes up, choking, and the room
is full of smoke, and an old flannel
petticoat, hanging before the fire, Is
all glowing red, and the chair smolder
ing. Wasn't that an escape? Pooh!
Don't tell me about the peril* of the
sea I" •
Mistaken Identity.
Reginald Vanderbilt, at dinner In
New York, denied that, during the
Pittsburg horse show, he had snubbed
Pittsburg society.
"The trouble lay in the fact," said
Mr. Vanderbilt, "that In Pittsburg I
was misunderstood. I was taken for a
society man of leisure, when really I
was a hard-working horseman without
a minute to spare."
He laughed.
"It was a case," he said, "of mis
taken identity, like that of the little
Newport boy. He, with his little
brothers and sisters, was being taught
natural history by his governess
through the instrumentality of a game.
The game was called 'Barnyard.' One
child was a turkey, another a duck, a
third a calf, and so on. A noisy, de
lightful game, and much natural his
tory was no doubt learnt through it.
But my little boy remained, in all the
tumult, as still as death. Far off in a
comer he crouched, silent and alone.
The governess, spying him, approached
indignantly.
" 'Come,' she said, 'play ! Be a
rooster! Flap your wings and crow!'
" 'S-sh,' said he. 'I'm laying an
egg.' " _
Ab.nrd Stage Daalneas.
Theatrical production is full of ab
surdities in business. A situation is
required, a situation is thrown in. It
makes not the slightest difference if it
be a trolley car crew of song and dance
brothers manning a yacht in the desert
of Sahara. You have the trolley crew
and the yacht, and if the scene happens
to be a section of the arid West where
typhoons take the place of waterspouts
—well, so much the worse for the
scene. And if the conductors collect
fares from the sailors to carry out the
business of the song, "We Are Jolly,
Jolly Street Car Men," the audience
must be prepared to submit calmly to
a sandstorm immediately following,
which is necessary to bring on the wind
machine and stereopticon. When a
comic opera (heaven save the mark ! )
opened at Madison Square roof with
Japanese costumes, Broadway dialogue,
a Martian setting and Irish comedy
there were absurdities enough to de
light a dozen stage directors.—Henry
E. Warner in Bohemian Magazine.
The Joy. of Lite In Africa.
You must never walk barefoot on the
floor, no matter how clean it is, or an
odious worm called a jigger will enter
your foot to raise a numerous family
and a painful swelling. On the other
hand, be sure when you put on boots
and shoes that, however hurried, you
turn them upside down and look In
side lest a scorpion, a small snake or
a perfectly frightful kind of centipede
may be lying in ambush. Never throw
your clothes carelessly upon the
ground, but put them away at once
in a tin box and shut it tight or a
perfect colony of fierce biting creatures
will beset them. And, above all, qui
nine !—Winston Churchill, M. P., i n
London Strand.
"I am so sympathetic," you often
hear people say. And they sympathize
more with themaelves than with other
J*oplA
church was purely democratic, patterned after the uni
versal brotherhood doctrines of Christ.
Yet, not so long since, the wife of one cabinet officer
at Washington quarreled with the wives of other offi
cers over social precedence. The woman of the tene
ment, proud in possession of a new feather for her
bonnet, boasts over her next-door neighbor. Fond
mothers approve their children trying to establish a
secret society aristocracy in the public schools of Chi
cago.
Is the church exempt from human nature? If not,
then perhaps Dr. Shaw is right, after all, and another
childhood illusion has perished.—Chicago Journal.
POSTAL SAVINGS BANKS.
HE postal savings bank is no new thing,
except in this country. All enlightened
governments of Europe has maintained it
for years. There is nothing problemati
cal about it. It has been thoroughly
tested, and there Is not an intelligent im
migrant who does not know all about It.
In operation in the United States the proposition
would run something like this : Every postoffiee in the
land would become a depository, not to unlimited but
to limited amounts, for the savings of the people. This
money would be in turn deposited by the government
in regular banks, and the individual depositor would be
allowed interest at the rate of, say, 2 per cent. Hav
ing taken charge of the money, the government would
become responsible for its safety.—Philadelphia Inquirer
T
THREE CHILDREN THE LIMIT.
T is now recognized in this day of univer
*3 " sal education that it is better to raise
three children so their minds shall be rea
sonably equipped for the battle of life and
their bodies strong so as to withstand the
hardships of adversity than to bring five
children to the age of maturity In a con
dition which foretells their tilling the ranks of the
lower strata of society. With frequent and protracted
wars a thing of the past, with the questions of national
defense less pressing than ever before, with the conquer
ing of plagues which in other centuries claimed their
thousands yearly, the common welfare does not demand
families with eight or ten children, particularly if the
parents are poor.—Brooklyn Standard Union.
K mmmmmmwmMtë
Legal Information S
The Supreme Judicial court of Massa
chusetts in Mulvey vs. City of Boston,
83 Northeastern Reporter, 402, held
that a change by the legislature of the
statute of limitations from six years
to two, allowing 30 days in which to
bring actions for personal injuries
against cities, which accrued more than
two years before, is not unconstitution
al an 1 that in a small state like Mas
sachusetts where means of communica
tion are so adequate, an allowance of
30 days is a reasonable time in which
to bring an action which would be bar
red by the change.
The parties to the case of Johnson vs.
Saum, 114 Northwestern Reporter, C18,
had made a settlement of their ac
counts. It appeared.that plaintiff was
indebted to defendant for $540, in pay
ment of which plaintiff transferred to
defendant a mare. Subsequently plain
tiff found that he was mistaken in sup
posing himself indebted to defendant
and brought action for the recovery of
$540. Defendant offered to prove that
the mare was worth not more than
$30, which offer the court refused and
plaintiff recovered Judgment for $405.
The Supreme Court of Iowa held that
recovery should have been limited to
the value of the mare, expressing the
devout hope that the unfortunate mare,
which had twice made the journey from
the trial court and back again, might
not be again compelled to repeat the
dreary round, and suggested to her
sponsors that the game was not worth
the candle.
A railroad company in reconstructing
a highway had filled Its bed with two
or three feet of sand, in which plain
tiff's automobile became stuck while
passing over. Assistance was neces
sary to disengage the car, which while
being extricated, was injured. Action
was then instituted for damages. In
Doherty vs. Town of Ayer. 83, North
eastern Reporter, 677, the Supreme Ju
dicial Court of Massachusetts held that
a statute, enacted more than 100 years
ago, providing that highways should be
kept in repair at the expense of the
city or town, so as to be reasonably
safe and convenient for travelers with
carriages, could not reasonably be con
strued to embrace heavy machines like
modern automobiles, as this would put
towns in sparsely settled districts un
der enormous expense in the mainten
ance of highways.
A Definition.
"Paw," asked a thoughtful lad, wrin
kling his brow, "what's a pessimist?"
A pessimist, John J.," replied his
father, "is a man who, after a cyclone
has blown his house away with him
In it, goes back and grumbles at his
lot."—Puck.
Cold Comfort.
City Editor—Why do you say thaï
this man "passed away" instead of
"died?"
Reporter—He owed me money and I
don't like to feel that he is really dead.
—Hamer's Weeklv.