r? r- A ROUGH DIAMOND. i. Oh, Miss Elsie, Miss Elsie, the bans lias been robbed! Twenty thousand pounds gone, missie! and poor mas ter away! Oh, dear! oh, dear! Fully an hour ago. -had the above words been thrust &n pretty little Elsie Maltland's bewildered hearing. She still sat in the e\act spot where the bearer of the awfui news had left her, too stunned and s"hocked even yet to properly realize atl that the terrible tidings might meaii. Twenty thousand pounds.gone! And the bank in a soniewhai embarrassed condition before! Woret sof all, the hanker himself—iElsie's uncle—was away! Elsie Maitland was a brave lit tle woman, but somehow this last dreadful thing had well-nigh robbed her of her bravery. A step behind her, and a low voice spoke her name. She knew it at once it was her good-for-nothing brother's. Why had he come here now, bringing fresh trouble? For the first time in her life Elsie felt angry with him. "Why are you here again, Harold?" she cried, when he was stand ing there in front of her. "When I gave you that last money you promised to stay away al together, and try and get something to do. Yet here you are once more, and this time I cannot help you. Why, why do you come? Uncle John would be furious at finding you here." "But he is away, Elsie," the young man answered breathlessly. "Girlie, you must help me, just this once. I promise solemnly never to worry you again!" "You have promised solemnly be fore, Harold," his sister said bitterly.. "I cannot help you, I say. We are all ruined. The bank has been robbed." The startle* look on his white face caused her to cease speaking. "Is it trse, Elsie?" he asked hoarse ly. "Kas the bank really been robbed?" She told him what she knew, he lis tening impatiently. "I must have money, girlie!" he burst out. "I must have it! I must get away from here tonight, and don't possess a single farthing! Quick dear. Uncle left you some for house keeping. That will have to do." "I don't possess a single farthing ei ther," she persisted. "What is the mat ter, Harold? Why is it so terribly necessary for you to leave Blackmore tonight?" Their eyes met—hers clear, straight forward, honest his weak and ner vous. "Uncle will be coming back to see about the bank, Elsie," he muttered queerly. "He must hot find me here.' No, it would only add to the bitteV ness of his return. But what could she do? "I have it!" the desperate brother suddenly exclaimed. "Elsie, this news about the bank robbery is still exclu sive. The editor of the Blackmore Times would give you any sum for it. He is enterprising, and always ready for something startling at first hand. This is our only chance, dear." But Elsie would not see it in that light for a long, long time. It was not until her brother had fully enlarged on the grim necessity of the case, not un til he had forced her to plainly under stand the consequences if he did not have money at once, that she finauy consented to go to the editor of the Blackmore Times. Harold Maitland had a smart, cun ning tongue on this occasion he had indeed used it well. As he prophesied, the editor literally grabbed at the "copy," especially after he had fairly convinced himself that his would be the first paper to publish the startling news on the morrow. Elsie went wear ily home with the much-needed money in her pocket. Harold was awaiting in hiding for her, and pounced down eag erly on the gold. II. An hour after his departure their uncle's manager came to the house and asked to see Elsie. When he was ad mitted into her presence he noticed with a sharp pang how wan and deso late her little face had grown. Poor child! Such things as these were hard for her to have to bear. How he wished that he could save her ail care and annoyance in the future! For with the whole of his stout, loyal heart he loved her. He showed her a telegram which he had received from her uncle. "Returning at once," it said. "Keep news of robbery out of the papers at any price till I see you." Elsie read the words, or, rather, they chased cach other before her dizzy, aching eyes. She suddenly tottered forward and fell in a dead faint. Next morning huge posters appear ed from the offices of the Blackmore 'l imes, making public the robbery. Newsboys shouted it frantically from one street to another. Soon a big crowd had gathered outside the bank, clamoring for the doors to be opened. They wanted their money back, tlieir liard-won earnings, and they meant to get it. That exclusive news sold by Elsie Maitland on the previous evening to the editor of the Blackmore 'I imes had caused an appalling run on lier uncle's bank. k. -t. The dodrs wfere opened at last the crowd surged in, presenting checks to the full amount they had deposited in the bank. They looked astonished when the gold came over the counter in their direction. Clearly they had expected to be turned away penniless. They thanked their stars for being the first. The bank could not go on pay ing out for long, of that they felt sure. At noon Elsie and her uncle drove up to the front entrance in an open carriage. He had insisted on her ac companying him, despite the fact that she looked wretchedly pale and ill. All the way along they had seen those hideous posters announcing .ae robbery. "How did they get the news?" John Rivers kept repeating. "Elsie, child, how did they get the news? It is a mystery to me. If only it could have been kept from them another twenty four hours I could have weathered the storm." Poor Elsie's heart ached. "I have done it!" she cried. "The fault is mine—mine! Oh, Harold, only I could have foreseen all this! If only I could have foreseen it all!" III. As yet Elsie had not told her uncle who supplied the news to the paper. She prayed fervently that she might be able to keep the knowledge to her self forever, safely hidden from the fond old man who believed in her. Fate would decide. For hours she sat in a little room over the bank, listening to the persist ent clamorings below for gold. How much longer could it go on? "Not much longer!" John Rivers said ejectedly to his suffering niece. "Not much longer, Elsie, my girl. They must have paid it nearly all out by now. Soon they will have to close the doors. Don't cry, child. It is the will of Providence, I suppose, but it's hard to get such a blow as this at my time of life!" Presently there were sounds of cheering in the street. A well-known millionaire had driven up to the bank. "My God!" muttered the old banker. "This is the last straw! Reginald Fair fax has turned against me with the rest when he has withdrawn his mon ey there won't be a.penny left!" "Go and see him, uncle," Elsie plead ed. "He is so rich he might be per suaded to leave it." "No, child. I could not speak to him or any one else today." "Then I will, uncle. Oh. do go and send him here to me! I must see him! Reginald will save us!" John Rivers went blindly out, and Elsie waited for Reginald Fairfax to come to her. Twice this self-made 1 jj I MUST HAVE MONEY, man has asked her to marry him twice she had refused. He was rich, but he was also coarse. Life with him would be a nightmare, she had al ways told herself. She did not love him. But now He was standing there in front of her, loudly dressed, and looking more commonplace and vulgar than ever. How could she appeal to this boorish parvenu? She must, though she had worked the mischief, and she must right it if possible. At the end of another five minutes she was telling him everything—all about her brother and her selling the news of the robbery to the editor. He listened in silence. She humbled her self to the dust before him, and begged him not to withdraw his money from the bank. He smiled queerly. "You twice asked me to be your wife," she wound up feverishly, "and I refused you. Would you still mar ry me, Mr. Fairfax? Oh, do answer! If I said 'yes,' would you still marry me?" The smile broadened. "Am I to understand that you are proposing to me, Miss Maitland?" he asked. "Don't seek to humble me any more don't, don't!" she cried. "I have fallen far enough!" "Yes," he said "it iAust indeed be a terrible fall for the proud Miss Mail land to offer herself to me! You of fer to become my wife if I will only leave my money in your uncle's bank. Considering that I love you—and that you love someone else—it is rather hard on me, isn't it?" "Oh, don't, don't! If you only knew how I loathe myself for having said all this to you. You are quite right to refuse me. How dare I ask you—or any man—to take me under such con ditions? You are quite right to refuse me." "I don't know," he answered slow ly. "If you did not love another man already it might have been different. ^^4^ -.'''V ^..-r:vv-V.,,. it -f But as It is—yes, I certainly won't marry you, Miss Maitland you have humbled yourself to me unnecessarily. You cannot know me very well when you imagine that I had come to with draw my support from your uncle at such a time as this. Instead, I had merely come to place the further sum of £50,000 to my account. The public knows It already, and the paying into the bank of such a large sum has re stored confidence." Ere she 'had time to speak he was gone. But the bank was saved! The bank was saved! A man she had always despised in her heart had come for ward and saved it. Why—why had she never been able before to see the fine nature which lurked beneath a somewhat boorish exterior. The excitebent of that day was fol lowed by a long illness for her. When she returned to life once more it was to find her uncle in better spirits than she could ever remember him. "All the doing of Reginald Fairfax, Elsie, my girl!" the old banker said, gleefully. "He stuck to me right through, child, when everyone else failed me, and his example saved the bank. He had further persuaded old John Rivers to make a partner of his long trusted manager. He was therefore in a position at last to ask Elsie's hand in marriage. When he asked her she answered "Yes." Some months after their marriage Elsie received another visit from her brother Harold. He was altogether a different person. He was going to America, and had come to make a con fession to her. He had sold his knowledge of their uncle and the bank to a certan gang of thieves for a large sum of money. But he had never known a happy minute since, and he had never touched a farthing of the ill-gotten cash. He was going to America now, to start life in earnest, and when his sister asked him where he had found the necessary funds he told her that the donor was Reginald Fairfax. TARANTULA SHEDS ITS SKIN. Insect Increases In Size Each Time She Molts. From the Country Gentleman: An event of more than' ordinary interest occurred in my office yesterday noon. A large female tarantula shed its skin for the second time since it has been in captivity. Those familiar with insects, spiders and related creatures are aware that they are incased by a hard, un yielding integument. Increase of size' is permissible only when the old skin is shed and one that has been newly formed beneath expands to the requi site degree. This is a process con stantly occurring in nature, and ever excites interest in the beholder. When a large spider three inches long throws off the old integument it is a thrilling sight. In the present case the taran tula had evidently been feeling unwell for some days, a condition frequently preceding this process among insects, and yesterday morning she was found lying on her back and apparently dead, but moved a little upon being disturb ed. She lay thus until about 12:15, when the rustling her movements made excited attention. The old skin had then ruptured around the thorax in such a manner that the top could be removed entire, and through this open ing the giant spider was literally working out of her old skin. This was accomplished by the aid of her eight legs and the two leg-like palpi. At the end of an hour the change had been effected. The spider lay upon her back, beside the perfect skin, resting from the severe exertion. This tarantula was unusually large before she molted, and is now of still greater size. She came north in a bunch of bananas about two and a half years ago, and until last January was the pet of Dr. J. M. Bigelow. While under his care one skin was shed and is now in my possession. An idea of the increase in size attendant upon molting may be gained by comparing the dimensions of the dorsal piece of the skin shed about the latter part of 1896, when under the care of Dr. Bige low, and the one shed yesterday. The first measures one inch and the sec one measures one and a quarter inches. Therefore, the present dorsal piece will probably be proportionately larger when fully expanded. She Couldn't Mitm the Chance. Mrs. Drayton—Ah, well, it has al ways been my dearest wish to grow old gracefully. Mrs. Winston—Is that so, dear? I'm awfuHy sorry for you. Mrs. Drayton—You are sorry for me? Why? Mrs. Winston—Because your dearest wish has been to grow old gracefully. Of course you'll never have a chance to try it over and make use of the prac tice you've had. He Kneir It. The Good Man—Do you know that there are breakers ahead of you? The Wicked One—Ye—hie—yes. I s'pose my—hie—wife and her mother'll break my—hie—head when I git home. Physicians are called upon to pre scribe for the imagination oftener than anything else. ..... JJfJe WSt'Mtaw*. sr.- A BRIDE'S SORROW. She Had Lost Her Own Perfectly LOT* ij Name. She had been married just two weeks and cruel fate had torn him away from her for two whole hours, says the New York Commercial Advertiser. She had planned what she would do. She had a new book and a box of candy and some embroidery and she nobly re solved to bid him good-by cheerfully and not have tear-stained eyes when he returned either. She rode down to the station with him and he kissed her good-by. She watched him get into the train and her eyes grew misty. Two hours! If he missed the train he might be gone two hours and twenty minutes. What did he want to see that horrid lawyer for, anyhow? Surely a lawsuit, even one that involved money, was a small matter to take him away from his bride of a fortnight. The train moved slowly out of the station. He stood on the platform, waving his hat and throwing kisses to her, ob livious of the amusement of the bag gagemen on the station platform. She watched the train swing around the curve and cross the bridge. Suppose the bridge should break? The train would plunge into the river and he would be drowned. But the rumble was far oft now. The bridge was crossed in safety. She wished she had not married. She had always thought that widows must feel that way. What was the use of marrying only to be bereft of one's husband? She had been very happy as a girl. Very happy, indeed. Why had she given up her care-free existence to be the lonely wife of a man who cared more for money and lawyers than he did for her? Why had she done it? Simply to please him, because it was easier to comply than refuse. A boy whizzing by on a bicycle stopped and handed her a letter. She looked at the superscrip tion, "Mrs Sidney Willis," and groaned in spirit. Even her name, her pretty aritocratic name, of which all her family was so proud, was gone. How chilly and formal and lonely it would be to be always called Mrs. Willis and never be Miss Dolly Van Schaick again. She had reached the house now and she wandered disconsolately upstairs. She thought of all the pretty things that had been said of and to Miss Van Schaick and the more she thought of it the more bitterly did she bemoan her lost name. She forgot her em1 broidery and her candy and her book and gave herself up to tears. She didn't even hear the whistle of the train from New Rochelle. At last there was a knock at the door. "Go away," sobbed the unhappy Mrs. Willis. "But Dolly, it's me—it's I—it's Dick. What is the matter?" besought Mr. Willis through the keyhole. Then she opened the door and told him. He was offend ed. It took a good many kisses and explanations to make him appreciate the superiority of Van Schaick to Wil-. lis. But, once convinced, he sym pathized with her and consented to call her Miss Van Schaick for a month "un til the novelty wore off." Poet Poe Not Expelled from College. William H. Browne writes the fol lowing letter to the Baltimore News: "I see a paragraph going the rounds of the papers to the effect that it is rer markable that Edgar A. Poe should be honored by a bust erected in the uni versity from which he was expelled. It has been shown again and again that Poe was never expelled from the Uni versity of Virginia. Mr. J. H. Ingram, the author of a well-known life of the poet, wrote to Mr. William Werten baker, secretary of the faculty, to in quire about Poe's conduct and stand ing, and that gentleman, who was librarian during Poe's residence and knew him well, replied, not from mem ory only, but after searching the rec ords, that 'at no time did he fall under the censure of the faculty.'" Mr. Wood bury, another biographer, says that during Poe's residence 'he did not come under the notice of the faculty, which is stated to have been at that time unusually watchful and strict.' The Joys of Childhood. Johnny and Tommy, who are the noisiest children in Yorkville, were playing. "Let's play on this doorstep," suggested Tommy. "No," Jimmy said, "there isn't any fun in doing that. That's an empty house. Let's go down the street and play. I know where there's a newspaper man's house. He works all night and sleeps in the day time." And the pair of cherubs started off to the spot where the maker of thoughts for seventy million ladies and gentlemen was trying to replenish his empty think tank by the balmy sleep process. Could She Talk! "Can she talk, old man?" "Can she? Why, last summer, in the mountains, she didn't even let the echo have the last word."—Puck. Anxlou* to larn. She—They say the Cllppersons have always lived away beyond their means. He—I wonder if we could get them to show us how? ...... .4 I .• »'..?, •!l :.rv •. ^.i,''N. CatarrhCured Blood Purified by Hood's Sarsapa rllla and Health Is Cood. "I was a sufferer from catarrh. One of my neighbors advised me to take Hood's Sarsaparilla and I did so. A few bottles purified my blood and cured me. I bav* remained in good health ever since." JAS. T. ADKINS, Athensville, Illinois. Hood's Sarsaparilla Is America's Greatest Medicine. 91 six for $B. Hood's Pills cure all Liver Ills. 25 cents. A Wonder. "When that man came to this town," said Rivers, "he hadn't a rag to bis back. Look at him now." Brooks walked to the window, looked in the direction indicated, and saw a swarthy son of Italy walking down the street bending beneath the weight of a sack of rags three or four times his size, strapped to his back. The historian regrets to have to re cord the fact that this led to another quarrel betwen the two old friends.— Chicago Tribune. Mrs. Winslow'a Soothing Syrup. For children teething, softens the gums, reduces ln (lamination, allays pain, curei wind colic. 35c a bottle. Rlarorons Siriu School Laws. If a child in Switzerland does not at tend school on a particular day the parent gets a notice from the public authority that he Is fined so many francs the second day the fine is in creased, and by the third day the amount has become a serious one. In case of sickness the pupil is excused) but if there is any suspicion of sham ming a doctor is sent. If the suspi cion proves to be well founded the pa rent is required to pay the cost of the doctor's visit. While there's life there's Soap—Dia mond "C" Soap. Danger in Potassium. A singular accident has been re ported from a chemical factory, where a workman's clothes became saturated with dust from the grinding of chlo rate of potassium. A spark from the workman's pipe fell on the clothes, when the entire suit flashed into flame, producing fatal results. A lie often cripples where a cannon would be ineffective. A baggabemaster checks your trunk and a physician checks your grippe. The lazier a man is th eharder it is to discourage him. THE EXCELLENCE OF SYKUP OF FIGS is due not only to the originality and simplicity of the combination, but also to the care and skill with which it is manufactured by scientific processes known to the CALIFOBNIA Fia SYRUP Co. only, and we wish to impress upon all the importance of purchasing the true and original remedy. As the genuine Syrup of Figs is manufactured by the CALIFORNIA FIG SYBUP CO. only, a knowledge of that fact will assist one in avoiding the worthless imitations manufactured by other par ties. The high standing of the CALI FORNIA FIG SYRUP CO. with the medi cal^ profession, and the satisfaction which the genuine Syrup of Figs has given to millions of families, makes the name of the Company a guaranty of the excellence of its remedy. It is far in advance of all other laxatives, as it acts on the kidneys, liver and bowels without irritating or weaken ing them, and it does not gripe nor nauseate. In order to get its beneficial effects, please remember the name of the Company— CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO. SAN FRANCISCO, CbI. LOUKVU&X, KJ. NEW YOITK. H. T. IC wife#t?NATHAN PENSION I BICKFORD. Washington. D. CMthe will receive quick replies. B. 5th N. H. Toll, tun 30th Cores. Prosecuting Claims since 1878 nPODQY NEW DISCOVERY selves I quinlc relief and curoa worrt eases. Rend for b.ioic of testimonials and IO clays* treatment free. Dr.H. a. sum's BON8.AUaata.6a. WANTED—Case of fcad health that B-I-P-A-N-S will not benefit. Send 5 cents to Iilpnns Chcmlcal Co., New York,for 10 samples and 1,000 testimonials. PATrilT secured Or manfy nil returned. Roflrchfree. IHI CIl I Collainer & Co. 123 at.. S Wash. D.C. When Answering Advertisements Kindly Mention This Taper. N. D. N. If —No 49— 1808.