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S Woman vs.
J3k, ikVvy tv'C'tv'tk ytv S'ho gave a llltlo gawp ami wit down. Tho hod 1 porter discreetly looked the other way; ho was enjoying tho little nine, greatly; tho Mt. Seymour Hotel provided many of them. Tlio girl waa young ami pretty; tho hand which toyed with tho letter before her was itud.d with valuablo rings, among them a narrow one of gold. It was evident that hhe wan a wife. There was no husband to greet her. though the ear with her luggage from tits mall boat was standing at the door. Al I.honso had had the pleasure of hand ing her tho letter; It had been given to him by a handsome, dark-eyed man only a few hours before. 'Moiihimr le Capltalno he Bay. 'Give to do lady direct she come.' Ileln, I do give." The girl arose, her bluo cyca dim with tears; tho susceptible Alphonso was overwhelmed. "Marie," hhe said to her maid, "Capt. Molyneux has been ordered up to Pre toria; ho only left today. Please see to the boxes." She crossed (he hall toward the ele vator and disappeared. Many eyes had watched the little drama; the lounging chairs In the halt were all occupied; officers on sick leave, men convalescent am men on j their way up to the front or back to old England. Women, too, some grass widows, a few real widows, many more with no special concern in tho war at all. But it was the war which had drawn them to Cape Town the war, or, rather, the soldiers who were fight-, Ing. Where else but to the Mt. Sey mour Hotel should they go? Rank and fashion, joy and misery, virtue and vice rubbed thoulders In that fashion able and exorbitant hostelry. "Ah, a pretty woman." drawled young Dennl3 of the th Lancers. "Who is she?" queried his compan ion. John Beresford rose languidly from his chair and satisfied his curiosity at the porter's office. "It's Bob Molyneux's wife," he said to his friend. "Fancy. One of my old est pals. I was so sick at having missed him this morning. He left just before I got here. Ah! there is Mr3. de la Fane; she's a pretty woman, if you like. I was introduced to her this morning hy old Vigors." He sprang to his feet and offered his chair to a tall, graceful woman who liad entered the hall as he spoke. She accepted it with a smile, and in a moment the little group attracted all eyes. Mrs. de la Fane was one of the leading spirits of the hotel; the ac knowledged beauty, whose wonderful eyes drew every man into her toils. Her husband was rolling in money; he was reported to be a Johannesburg millionaire; but the reports, were ra ther vague. It was sufficient for her admirers that he spent his money like Trater, gave the best dinners a man could wish to sit down to, and did not scowl when other men smiled at his wife. "What brings you down to Cape Town, Capt. Beresford?" asked Mrs. de la Fane. "Major Vigors tells me your regiment is in the thick of it j;.st now." Sle raised her great vio iet eyes to the young man's face as she spoke. The implication underlying the word stung him. He flushed, and tapped a side pocket in his coat. T have got a little bag here," he said with meaning which contains well, a few papers of importance." "Oh!" laughed Mrs. de la Fane. "I ee. You are one of Kitchener's mes senger boys. Rather a satisfactory berth, Isn't it, Captain? No risk, no worry, no exertion." John Beresford caught those violet eyes again full in his own. His heart "beat faster. He did not care to appear as one of no importance in this wom an's eyes. His mission demanded se crecy, yet for the moment his tongue ran away with him. "You are wrong, Mrs. de' la Fane,M he smiled in reply. "The papers would be worth well, a lot to Kruger or Bo tha." A sudden gleam came into the wom an's eyes. John Beresford saw it, hut thought nothing of it. The silken toils :were already about him. "Come and lunch with me, Capt. Beresford, and you, too, Mr. Dennis," said Mrs. de la Fane. Two days passed away. Muriel Mo lyneux felt inexpressibly lonely. This bustling, frivolous atmosphere of hotel jarred on her. Tortured with anxiety for her husband, she hated the laugh ter, the music, above all, the society. She kept aloof from it all. Her hus band was an intelligence officer; she ltnew that he was never sure from day to day where he would sleep the fol lowing night. To attempt to follow him to the front was impossible. Now Muriel, for all her great love for her husband, was an enthusiastic little patriot. This dreary, useless idle ness to which she was condemned taxed her nerves to the uttermost. The quiet of the gardens overlooking the sea appealed to her. After dinner on the third evening after her arrival Jiuriel slipped out alone and paced the Woman. -t ,fia gravel paths In angry Impatience with her fate. Tho gardens were empty. Her white dresa looked ghost-like !a tho shadows. In a little summer houso at the fur thest limits of the garden, bitter tears rose Into her eyes as she thought of her own incapacity, her own enforced Idleness. Suddenly a voire at her el bow startled her. Some one thrust a note Into her hand, with the words: Will you give mo your answer to morrow, or shall I wait for It now?" Taken unawares, and anxious to hide tho trace of her recent tearB, Muriel stammered hastily, "Tomorrow? No; tho day after," and the next moment she was alone again. Bewildered, she turned the note over in her hand. There was no address upon It. She rose hurriedly and hastened to the door of the summer house. A man's figure, evidently that of a gentleman, was disappearing out of the garden gate on to tho high road. It was too late to recall him. She opened his note mechanically. In the dim light it was dilllcult to trace the writing, but a second glance left no room for doubt "The Societies Office, Stcllenbosch. "To Mrs. de la F.: "Have you procured the dispatch case carried by the officer, J. B., yet? If so, tho bearer of this is to be trust ed; give it to him. If you have not yet secured it, tell him when to see you again. "J. X de W." Muriel drew her breath sharply. She sat motionless, her brain busy. She realized at once that she had been mistaken for somebody In the pay of the Boers; a plot was hatching, and she At that moment she heard foot steps hurrying down the pathway. She thrust the note in the bosom of her dress. Suppose the messenger had discovered his mistake, and was re turning? Her heart beat wildly. With sudden resolve Muriel had made up her mind. The summer house had an Inner room, to which a small doorway gave admittance. Opening the door she plunged into the darkness. Holding her breath, she peered through the half-open door, not daring to close it for fear of making a noise. A man entered the summer house. A quick sigh of relief escaped Muriel's lips. It was not the messenger. She glanced at the man's face; then started back in horror. She recognized him as a man she had frequently seen in the hotel; but his eyes were now blood shot, his expression wilu, his manner distraught. John Beresford (for it was he) drew a revolver from his coat and raised it against himself. Muriel waited no longer. With a little cry she flung open the door and threw herself upon the man. The re volver fell from his hand. "Oh! stop, stop!" she cried. "You can't know what you are doing." John Beresford stared at her as though she were a ghost. He stood motionless, his arms hanging limply by his side, his wild eyes searching her own. "Can't I help you?'' whispered Mu riel, gently, all the sympathy of her nature going out toward him. "Please let me try." "Help! I am beyond help!" echoed the man, struggling with the word3. "Leave me, for pity's sake, Mrs. Moly neux." Thero i3 only one way out of this." "How do you know my name?" asked Muriel, in surprise. "Molyneux was an old pal of mine," answered the other. "He would not speak to me now." A sudden Inspiration flashed acros3 Muriel's brain. "What is your name?" she asked. "John Beresford. For pity's sake leave ma" "Your initials are J. B., then? Have you are the dispatches " "How do you know about that?" said John Beresford, raising his head with a gleam of hope in his eyes. "Not a soul but myself and the thief knows that it was stolen from me within the last 24 hours." Mrs. de la Fano glided down the footpath leading toward the summer house. She was dressed in white. A3 she drew near she caught the sound of voices, and walked slowly past the doorway. She gave a little dry cough when she recognized John Beresford and Mu riel Molyneux. She seemed annoyed to find the sum mer houso occupied at that moment. She paced the footpath for a few mo ments and then returned to the hotel. She went to the pigeonhole where she generally found her letters and tele grams. It was empty. Soon after midnight she went to the pigeonhole again. There was a sealed packet waiting for her. With a sigh of relief she carried it hastily to her room and read: "The Societies Office, Stellenbach. "To Mrs. de la F.: "Have you procured the J. B. docu ments yet? If so, the bearer of this i to be trusted. Give them to him. If yoil have not yet fenred Mum, te'J him when to see. you again. "J. X. de W." A Kerond note in another handwrit ing was ncloH J: "Madam Not finding you thl3 even ing at the appointed place. I am leav- ng this note for you at tho hotel. I shall to thero tomorrow evening at 20 to receive your answer. "J. X. deW.'s Messenger." Mre. do la Fano Blept the tlecp of tho Just that night On the following evening she kept tho appointment Sue was asrain iressed In white. Punctual to the mo ment she heard a man'B footstep on th path outside, and a tall, bearded man 6tood In the doorway. "Mrs. de la Fane, I presume?" He spoke in a deep, gruff voice. She handed him a carefuliy sealed packet, saw him place It Inside his breast pocket and waited till he dis appeared. The next morning the re ceived an invitation from Capt. Beres ford to dine with him that evenlug. She handed the note to Mr. de la Fano and remarked, callously: "What nervo the man has. Surely, he knows there Is nothing for him to do but shoot himself. lle'8 ruined silly creature." Mr. de la Fane laughed harshly. So that evening a cheerful party as sembled In the private dining room. Mrs. Molyneux and Mrs. de la Fane were the only ladles present, but some half-dozen men made up the party. With thedessert, John Beresford looked around at his guests, and placed a leather case on the table. "I've had the queerest adventure since I've been in the hotel," he said laughing. It's too rich to keep to my self; it might amuse you." "FJre away," said some one. Mrs. do la Fane turned very white, but Muriel, watching her every move ment, felt no pity. "You know, of course," Bcresfori continued, "that I was sent down on special service to deliver some dis patches to Gen. G , who arrives here this evening. Like an ass, I mads no secret of my errand. I shall be wiser another time. Well, two day? ago the case with the dispatches dis appeared. You can imagine what felt like. After wild pearchings for 24 hours there was only one thing to be done." He then described his meeting with Muriel in the summer house, and her adventure with J. X. de W.'s messen ger. "I wrote a note," he continued, "and inclosed it with the original letter, addressing it to a certain lady, whose name does not matter, asking her to meet J. X. de W.'s messenger last night. In disguise I myself represented the messenger and received my dis patch back into my own hands." The men laughed loud and long. "The sequel, too, may be interest ing," said John Beresford, coolly. "A couple of detectives are at this minute collaring J. X. de W.'s man." What about the lady?' he was asked. "Well, I fancy you'll hear that she and her husband have been presented with tickets to Europe by the next boat." A little choking cry came from Mrs. de Fane's lips. She had fainted. Tha Onlooker. COMPETITIVE HUNTING. A Species of Sport Which Is Still Fol lowed in the Adirondncka. Competitive hunting is still indulged in in the southern Adirondacks. At a recent meeting in Boonville an organ ization of sportsmen was formed with the object of promoting the sport. The president of the organzation is B. A. Capron, secretary, J. Arch Bateman, and treasurer, Dr. W. S. Seavey. The 70 members of the organization are divided into two sides and Ed ward Johnson and C. E. Thompson are the captains. The schedule of points this organization has arranged is as follows: Partridge 10, woodcock 10. crow 50, blackbird 15, hawk 75, crane 200, sparrow 5, duck 100, deer 100, bear 1000, woodchuck 100, gray squir rel 25, black squirrel 75, red squirrel 25, chipmunk 15, kingfisher 50, iaven 100, rabbit 25, snipe 5, hedgehog 50, rac coon 100. One hunt has been held this fall and the result was that a large num ber of oirds and squirrels were secured. Chipmunks and squirrels suffered most. Many partridges were shot also. The team under the captaincy of Johnson scored 3830 points, while Capt. Thomp son's men got only 1855 points. This is the only part of the great forest of northern New York in which competitive hunting is followed today. Everywhere else the sportsmen have come to appreciate tho fact that this kind of amusement results in the wan ton destruction of a very large number of wild birds and animals, the greater number of which are not only harm less, but also of benefit in one way or another to the human race. New York Sun. A Whole Year! "Mamma, how can you ask me to m.rry him when he ha3 no social po sition?" "But, my dear, he tells me has made a million." "But even with that it will take him a year to get into society." Life. ; s Jildrcifs of-lunin A I.ltlU . I rl'a Mory. To tiike htr imp, I put my dull It) grandpa' gfirdnu elmlr. The rohlim found ln-r rltftit awity, And tried to Hlcal h-r hair. Thy pullnd so hard ho But rl;;ht up, And opoiiel wPt her ryts. Thoin foolish thlnits ouppoHud 'twos mo, And bopped off in Hurprt.tu. And tlion It wus I found ttudr nest: They with no droll, you bum, As up thwy flew, iwid down they flow, Glancing sideways at me. Dut now they know ma very well, And ettt tho food I bring. "Cbeerup! G'beerup! Cbeer up! Choe, elme!" . Is wbut they any and slag. Christian Register. A Tnbln Worth Mote Than S30OO. Before Sir Simon Eyre became lord mayor of London in 1445 hla friends asked him to stand for sheriff, but he refused on the ground that he could not afford It This excuse would not pass. He was reminded that he had boasted that he breakfasted off a table for which he would not take a thou sand pounds, and that therefore it was that the then lord mayor and two of the aldermen were rather curious to Beo this wonderful table, and went home with him, self-invited, to dinner one day. Eyre bade his wife set some food on "the little table" for his guests. She refused at first, but finding her good man in earnest, sat down upon a stool, spread a napkin over her lap, and then placed a venison pasty on it "There," said Simon, turning triumphantly to his visitors, "there is the table for which I would not take a thousand pounds." The Woorichnck. II. D. Reed and Verne Morton, in country Life in America, tell an Inter esting and pictorial story of the wood chuck, or ground hog. "Perhaps no wild mammal," says Mr., Reed, "is more familiar to coun try people that the woodchuck. Every ulllside and meadow is dotted with the small piles of earth which mark the doorway to his home. The wood chuck prefers a hillside or a knoll in which to dig his hole, for here he can easily make the end of his den higher than the beginning, thus avoiding the danger of being drowned out. "What could be more unlike in gen eral appearance than a woodchuck and a squirrel? Yet they are cousins, both Deiong to the same family of mammals. The trim body, sharp claws and agility of the squirrels make it possible for them to lead an arboreal life, jumping recklessly from branch to branch, while the flabby form and short legs of the woodchuck better adapt him for digging than for running or climbing. "The nature of the food of the wood chuck is such that he cannot lay up stores as the chipmunks do, nor is it of such a kind that it can be obtained during the winter. The case of this creature during the winter seems to be, therefore, one of sleep long and soundly or starve. During the win ter's sleep or hibernation, life pro cesses go on very slowly. Breathing :s reduced, and the heart beats become so fdow and feeble that they cannot be felt. They come from their winter's sleep about the first of March, in New York. now the Bearer llrenthes In Winter. "The beaver is really a sort of port able pulp mill, grinding up most any kind of wood that comes his way. I once measured a white birch tree, 22 inches through, cut down by a beav er. A smgie ueaver, generally, n not always, amputates the tree, and when it comes down the whole family fall to and have a regular frolic with tho bark and branches. A big beaver will bring down a fair sized sapling say three inches through in about two minutes, and a large tree in about an hour. "One of the queerest facts about tho beavr is the rapidity with which his long, chisel shaped teeth recover from an injury. " I have known beavers to break their teeth in biting a trap, and when I caught them again 10 days afterward you couldn't see a sign of the break the teeth had grown out to their former perfection in that short period. "As compared with the otter or mink the beaver is a very slow swimmer. His front legs hang by his sides, and ho uses only his webbed hind feet for purposes of swimming. It is easy to capture one in a canoe if you can find him in shoal wateu He is a most determined fighter, but clumsy and easy to handle. If he could get hold of you with his teeth he would almost take a leg off, so you want to watch him sharply. The place to grab him is by the tail. "The ability of a beaver to remain under water for a long time is really not so tough a problem as it looks. When the lake or pond is frozen over a beaver will come to the under sur face of the ice and expel his breath so that it will form a wide, flat bub ble. The air, coming in contact with the ice and water, is purified, and the lrr breath' It n.Min. '1 ! ; i.;n-rn-tloti hu can rept-ut M vnnl 1 1 - -. Th'' otte r and miihkrut d the :ttnr thin "It aim' t lal.fi a burglar s f o to hold a newly raptured I . u. r. I ones caught an old on and two Kit t us up the north branch of fio Sou West, put theni In a barrel and brought them down to Mlramlchl lake. Tnat night fhe Unawcd a hole through th! barrel and cleared out, leaving her kit tens. They were so young that I had no way of feeding them, m I released tnem. Soon alter that 1 caught a 1.!:? male beaver. I made a large log pen for him of dry spruce, but the set on 1 night ho cut a log and disappeared. "Beavers, when alarmed, generally make up stream, so I went to the brook where a little branch cam in, and I thought I would go up that a little way, and I hadn't gone more than 10 roils before I came across my lad Bit ting up in the bed of the brook hav ing a lunch on a stick ho had cut Ho actually looked cs if ho knew he was playing truant when ho caught sight of me out of tho side of his eye. "I picked him up by the tall, brought jum hack, put him in the pen, supplied him with plenty of fresh poplar, and he seemed as tamo as ncosiblo and never gave me any more trouble. I brought him out to Stanley, where he lived a long time. Turnbull had : mongrel dog, which was jealous of tho beaver, and one day attacked him. He did that only oneo, for the beaver nipped the dog's tall off qulcker'n a cat would catch a mouse." Rod and Gun. The DUcnntenletl f;-pp. Once upon a time a flock of wild geese started outtoseethesights. They were led by an old goose who, no doubt thought she was very wise. As if any body ever did see a wise goose. "I'm going out," she said, "to see more of the world. We really know nothing of what is going on outside of this pond. Don't you find it very dull? Only last week a swallow pausing in his flight to have a bit of conversation with mo, told of the won derful things to be seen. If you care to come along," she added, "I shall take you with me." Now, to tell the truth, the young geese, one and all, were perfectly de lighted at the proposition (because thatfs, dangerous little seed of discontent had" already taken root). Such a cackle as they set up Cackle! cackle! cackle! cackle!. So they flew away over brown marshes and green meadows, over rivulets and streams, until they came to such a lovely place where there were beautiful flowers and trees. There were rustic bridges -spanning limpid streams, and last, but not least, a beautiful pond. Tj "How lovely!" they exclaimed in one7 breath. "I wonder where we are," said s one little goose. "This," said their leader with an air of importance, '"is Central Park. My friend, the swallow, told me all about it." Anu sure enough, It wras Central Park, down by the duck pond, where, no doubt, you have walked many and many a, time. "The ducks and geese you see swim ming about," said the old goose, "ara tanie. How beautifully they behave. It all depends," quoth she, "on one's bringing up. Hush, my dears," as the young geese, one and all, began to cackle. "Don't be rude! Let me, I besf of you, speak to our friends." The tame geese, however, were not in the least inclined to be sociable. They glided about majestically, quite ignoring the presence of the intruders. "See that pretty little house over there?" said the little goose. "Can it be possible that it has been built for our accommodation?" How absurd this was. Of coursa your mamma has a room set apart as a guest chamber, and these ridiculous little geese thought the duck house had. been especially built for them, just like invited guests, you know. To be sure," said the old goose. shaking the water from her back, "my friend, Mr. Swallow, must have told them we were coming." She waddled ! over, followed by the entire nock. Hardly had they entered the duck house when they heard a click. The spring door closed with a snap and lo! they were prisoners Just then the keeper came out. "Heigh-ho!" ex- j 'claimed he; "what'3 this? A flock of wild geese, on my life. Come here, f. Bill (to a great, sturdy fellow near by), f Here is work for you to do. Clip the i wings of these geese as once." Th man went to work and did as he wa told, clipping all their wings, while r; big park policeman looked on anc laughed. , The geese were then let out on ths' pond to swim about majestically like their neighbors. Oh! how they longed to fly home. Never before did freedom seem so dear to them. "Why didn't you tell us," said thsj little goose in tone of reproach to ono of her new found triends, "that we were going to have our wings clipped?" "Because," replied her companion, "you wouldn't have believed us; and arter all, my dear, experience is the very best teacher." New Idea Magazine. oome men art' uum uaujaij, sum r acquire hautiness, and some be. cr.: j hotel clerks. 0 r 'I ( i )