THE UNEXPECTED.
The effect of Sigsbee’s declaration upon the rest of the listeners was
dynamic. Every eye swung around and rested upon Nash’s white face.
“What have you to say, Mr. Nash?” the president questioned, first to
find his voice.
“I have nothing to say,” replied Nash.
“But I have!” a clear, commanding voice arose.
Nash lifted his eyes. Miss Trask, who had so abruptly interrupted, was
upon her feet. She looked at the president, who appeared to be as much
surprised as the others.
“May I explain?” she asked.
The president nodded. Sigsbee brought himself erect in his chair, a
frown chiseled between his brows.
“Why, surely, Miss Breen,” he said anxiously, “this affair cannot
interest you.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Sigsbee, it is of vital interest to me,” she
answered swiftly. “The man whom you have accused Mr. Nash of murdering
was my brother!”
Sigsbee could only sit and gasp; the others about the long table leaned
forward in their chairs. So abrupt and startling was the announcement
that in the hush which followed one might have heard the dropping of a
pin.
“Your brother?” It was the president who first regained his voice.
“Yes,” said Miss Trask.
“And this man”--indicating Nash--“this man killed him?”
“That is what Mr. Sigsbee would have us believe,” the girl answered
quietly.
“But we have it from his own lips,” broke in Hooker, who, up to the
present, had remained dumb. “Nash told me himself that----”
“I know,” Miss Trask nodded. “I, too, have heard it from his own lips.
He told me last night--just before the detectives arrived from Los
Angeles.”
“And he knew, at the time, that you intended arresting him?” asked the
president.
“Yes.”
“Then why----”
“Why am I defending him??” Miss Trask interrupted. “Because there has
been a mistake--a horrible mistake. Mr. Nash is as innocent of the crime
as any one in the room.”
Nash caught at his breath, staring dumbly, wonderingly, into her face.
What motive, he asked himself, had prompted Miss Trask to change so
abruptly?
“Until this morning--an hour ago,” Miss Trask continued, “I believed his
confession. Then I received a wire from New York saying that one of the
aqueduct engineers, dying, has confessed to the murder. I did not
understand at first, but after a time it became clear to me. Mr. Nash
had a quarrel with my brother; a gun was fired somehow. The shot cut
across my brother’s cheek. I distinctly remember, because he was brought
home, and remained there for a week. Two weeks later he was engaged in
another fight--and this one proved fatal. Mr. Nash believed all the
time--as I did at first--that he was responsible; that it was in his
quarrel my brother had met his death. My brother was quick-tempered, and
he provoked the fight. I want Mr. Nash to be freed of all blame.”
Nash listened as a man in a dream, and finally, when Miss Trask had
finished, and had smiled upon him, he spoke:
“The fight took place in a café,” he said, bringing back the vivid
picture. “It was a harmless one at first. We began sparring; he dropped
to the floor. Then he jerked out a gun--I was unarmed. But suddenly a
shot rang out behind me, your brother cried out, and when I looked down
his face was bathed in crimson. Somebody grabbed me, forced me out of
the room. They told me my opponent was dying, and that I must run for
it. Explanations were useless.” Nash stopped, and looked around at the
circle of interested faces.
“That--that is all,” he said, “except that I packed my things that night
and took the first train for California.”
With the exception of Sigsbee and Hooker, the others in the room were
visibly impressed. Sigsbee, instantly aware that the issue at hand was
being forgotten, got to his feet.
“A very remarkable little romance,” he sneered. “Very remarkable,
indeed! But I’m afraid we are wandering from the subject. While Miss
Breen has apparently proven that Mr. Nash did not murder her brother,
the fact remains that he was a trouble-maker, and----”
“Just a moment, Mr. Sigsbee,” interrupted Miss Trask. “Whatever Mr. Nash
did in the past is of no concern at the present time. May I have
permission to speak at length?” She looked over at the president, who,
understanding, nodded.
“Since I became engaged upon this case, gentlemen,” she continued, “I
have had the opportunity of learning a few unexpected truths. Convinced,
as I was at first, of Mr. Nash’s disloyalty, I was amazed at his manner
toward me and the men under him, and his enthusiasm for his work. It was
only after a severe struggle with myself, and after I had found what I
concluded was the final proof of his unfaithfulness, that I took up the
matter with the board of engineers.”
“Do we understand that you retract the evidence you have only just
offered?” demanded the president.
“Certainly not, Mr. President,” she answered. “Every word I have said in
the matter of the siphons is true. Even Mr. Nash agrees with me.”
Nash nodded. “I have denied nothing,” he said. “Miss Breen’s statements
are perfectly correct.”
In a puzzled way he waited for her to continue.
“Several days ago Mr. Nash saved my life,” the girl resumed. “It was
then, half crazed by what I had gone through, that I confessed
everything to him. I told him who I was, and what I had done.”
“That was before his arrest?” leaped to Sigsbee’s lips.
“Yes, before his arrest.”
Sigsbee shrugged. “It’s a wonder, carried away by your feelings for this
man, that you didn’t urge him to escape,” he said.
“That is exactly what I did do, Mr. Sigsbee.”
The politician stared. “You--you tried to----”
“I told him the truth, and urged him to get away before he was arrested.
Not only then did I plead with him, but I went into camp an hour before
his arrest and begged him to leave.”
“What prevented him from doing so?” asked the president.
Miss Breen smiled. “His innocence, gentlemen. Why, do you think, being
guilty of this crime, he would have remained in camp? It was because he
was innocent that he remained.”
“Do you mean to say, Miss Breen,” the president asked, “that you believe
Mr. Nash was ignorant of the offense for which----”
“I do!”
“But you have already testified----“ began Sigsbee.
“I testified to the facts exactly as they were, exactly as I found them;
exactly, gentlemen, as Mr. Nash admits they were. He does not deny that
his steel was different from the specifications. What he does deny is
that he was given those specifications there on the table.”
“If he was given other specifications, which he claims to have
followed,” Sigsbee declared, “why does he not show them? What we want at
this inquiry is proofs, not words.”
Miss Breen allowed her eyes to rest upon the insolent, flushed face of
the speaker. “‘Why doesn’t he show the proofs?’ you ask,” she replied
calmly. “Because you took particular pains to put them out of his reach,
Mr. Sigsbee.”
“Look here!” Sigsbee exclaimed, forgetting, or indifferent to the fact,
that he was addressing a woman. “I won’t stand for any such
insinuations!”
“You’ll stand for some things you don’t expect,” the girl answered
swiftly, not in the least ruffled by the man’s declaration. “You laid
your plans very carefully, Mr. Sigsbee; you imagined them to be perfect.
Most criminals do. It is the unexpected that steps in and clogs the
smoothest running gear.”
“I--I demand----“ spluttered the politician.
“Very well,” announced the girl, apparently enjoying the situation,
which to all others in the room, Nash included, was more than
mystifying. “I’ll satisfy you.”
She looked around at the circle of interested engineers. Nash found her
eyes, and held them. Something mirrored in their depths sent his pulses
racing.
“Last night, after leaving Mr. Nash in charge of the detectives,” she
resumed, “I rode back to the ranch. Arrived there, I found Mr. Hooker,
who, as he has previously explained, was preparing to stop overnight.
When I discovered him he was flat on his back under the machine, coat
off, sleeves rolled up, his hands covered with grease and dirt. At his
suggestion, I volunteered to hold the lantern, and later he asked me to
carry his coat into the house. I did so. As I picked up the garment from
the ground, some papers dropped out. I was on the point of returning
them when----”
Hooker, with a loud cry, suddenly leaped to his feet, flung aside the
chair in which he had been sitting, and which blocked his way, and
bolted for the door.
“Don’t let him get away!” Miss Breen cried.
Instantly several of the men sprang into action, and two of them caught
Hooker as he was about to disappear. They brought him back to the table,
and forced him into a chair, where he sat huddled, white-lipped and
trembling.
“I’m sorry Mr. Hooker spoiled my climax,” Miss Breen said, smiling.
“Evidently he has just searched his pockets, and discovered the false
specifications which he took from Mr. Nash’s cabin yesterday afternoon
are missing. However,” she added, opening a little hand bag which she
carried, “they are not lost. Here, gentlemen, are Mr. Nash’s proofs.”
A bomb, thrown through the window, would not have caused greater
confusion. The false specifications were hurriedly examined by all the
men. Nash’s writing and figures on the margins were instantly
identified.
Sigsbee, stunned by the unexpected twist in his carefully laid plot, sat
as one stricken dumb.
“What have you to say, Mr. Hooker?” asked the president, after the
excitement had subsided.
Hooker seemed to realize his hopeless position. His actions had proven
his guilt. “Camp Forty-seven was rotten with graft,” he said
reluctantly, dully. “Sigsbee and I had to throw the blame on some one’s
shoulders--so we picked Nash. That’s all.”
The president of the board walked over to Nash. “I guess there’s a great
big apology coming to you, Mr. Nash.” He gripped the engineer’s hand. “I
feel we can depend upon you, and I hope you will continue to represent
us in Camp Forty-seven.”
“I shall do my best,” Nash answered. “My motto has been, and always will
be, ‘All for Los Angeles.’”
“That must be our motto as well,” responded the president. “And with
this in view, we must be careful not to allow the faintest whisper of
this meeting to reach the ears of the public. Los Angeles has always
been free from graft and political deals. It must be kept so. The public
must have the utmost confidence in the men who are constructing its
wonderful aqueduct. I believe all the members present understand the
delicate situation. And as for these two gentlemen”--he looked across to
Sigsbee and Hooker--“we must see that they are sent away. We will
withdraw all charges against them. To air this matter in court would be
a detriment to our clean record of the past. And while these men deserve
punishment, severe punishment, we must consider, above all else, the
welfare of our city. Therefore, I move that these men be placed in the
custody of a detective and taken East.”
The suggestion of the president was unanimously upheld by the board of
engineers.
Following the verdict, Nash slipped away and found Miss Trask.
“If it hadn’t been for you,” he murmured, pressing her hand, “I
might----”
“If it hadn’t been for you,” she interrupted, “that night at the coyote
I might have----”
The remembrance of that night, and the one particular incident, rushed
to Nash’s mind.
“And why--why did you lie to me about the time?” he asked. “Why did you
wish to remain with me when you knew that the explosion was to----”
She looked away, and the color trembled in her cheeks.
“C-can’t you guess?” she faltered.
Nash had arrived at a solution a long time previous to this moment, but
it seemed too good to be true. Now he knew it was true.
“Let’s go over to the Alexandria for lunch,” he suggested. “I can talk
better there.”
And, once in that big, cosmopolitan hotel, and in a secluded corner of
the grillroom, Elliot Nash amazed the stolid-faced waiter by his order.
And what he said later to the girl who shared the feast was meant only
for her ears.
THE END.
AN IMPORTANT EXCEPTION.
An old man who entered the meteorological office, the other day, said:
“This ’ere’s where you give out weather predictions, ain’t it?”
The clerk nodded.
“Well,” continued the old man, “I thought as how I could come up and
give you some tips.”
“Yes,” said the clerk politely.
“Yes; I’ve thought it out a little, an’ I find that ye ain’t al’ays
right.”
“No; we sometimes make mistakes.”
“Course ye do. We all does, some time. Now, I was thinkin’ as how a line
that used to be on the auction handbills down in our county might do
first-rate on your weather predictions an’ save ye a lot of explainin’.”
“What was the line?”
“Wind an’ weather permittin’.”
He went off without waiting to say good-by.
Saving the Building and Loan Money.
By E. E. YOUMANS.
“Paul, I want you to go down to the Building and Loan with this money
to-night,” said Mrs. Brown, as she came into the room where her son was
seated, reading a book. “I’d go myself, but I expect Mrs. Carson here to
see me, and must be on hand when she comes. I guess you can attend to it
all right enough, don’t you think so?”
“Sure,” said the youth, laying aside his book; “I’ll start at once.”
He secured his hat, and prepared to leave.
“Look out you don’t lose the money,” cautioned his mother. “There are
some fifty dollars in the roll.”
“No fear,” answered Paul; and a moment later he was on his way down the
road.
The place where the Building and Loan Association met was at a small
village, some two miles from Mrs. Brown’s farm, and it was necessary for
Paul to pass through a lonely woods on the way.
This he did not mind, however, for he was used to the road, and had
often gone through the woods at night. It was just turning dusk when he
left the house, but before he reached the forest, darkness had fallen in
full.
The moon did not rise till late, and he could not see far ahead when he
passed in under the trees. But he pressed on, the money tucked safely
away in the inside of his vest, and had just reached the end of the
woods, when the sudden glimmer of a light in the edge of the trees
attracted his attention.
“Why, that’s near the old cave,” muttered the boy, stopping and looking
toward the gleam. “Wonder what it means?”
He was about passing on, when the impulse to go forward and investigate
seized upon him, and he turned toward the cave.
“It won’t take but a minute,” he told himself. “I’ll just sneak up near
enough to see who’s prowling around. It may be some of the boys, though
it’s been a long time since any of us have been down this way.”
He climbed over the fence, and stole toward the light. It was still
shining, but before he got halfway to it, it suddenly went out.
He kept on, however, and soon reached the vicinity of the cave. This was
situated in a small and rocky ravine, and had been formed by several
large bowlders rolling down from the sides of the gorge, and lodging in
such a manner as to leave a considerable cavity underneath.
Paul and his friends had for a long time used this place as a sort of
rendezvous in some of their sports. But they had lost interest in it,
and had not been there for some time.
In a few minutes he was near enough to the cave to hear the sound of
strange voices.
“That’s none of the fellows,” he muttered, beginning to feel a little
uneasy. “But who can it be?”
He paused for a moment in uncertainty. Then his curiosity urged him on
again, and he soon gained a position behind one of the bowlders that
formed a side of the cave.
Here he crouched down, and listened. In a little while the party within
began talking again.
“There’s no doubt about it. He’ll have all the money with him, and, if
we’re smart, we’ll make a clean haul of three or four thousand dollars.”
“All the same, it’s blamed risky,” said another voice.
“Well, what of it? I reckon we’re smart enough to make our escape. We’ll
just stay here till twelve or one o’clock, then we’ll make tracks for
Bolton’s house. Take my word for it, bub, he’ll never put that money in
the bank to-morrow.”
Paul almost betrayed his proximity by the start he gave as these words
reached his ears. Mr. Bolton was the treasurer of the Building and Loan
Association into which he was going to pay the fifty dollars that night,
and these two men were concocting a scheme to rob him at his home.
The youth soon decided what to do. He must hurry away at once, and tell
the treasurer what he had discovered.
“It’s the greatest piece of rascality I ever heard of,” thought Paul, as
he cautiously rose to his feet and turned away.
But he was not destined to escape. He stepped upon a small stone which
slid out from under his foot with a sharp noise, and nearly threw him
down.
“What’s that?” cried one of the men, and the next second both were heard
starting from the cave.
Paul did not wait. Knowing he was sure to be caught, he broke into a
run.
The next moment the men saw him, and started in pursuit with a shout of
rage.
“Stop, you young eavesdropper,” cried the foremost ruffian; “stop, I
say, or I’ll shoot you.”
Paul paid no attention. He dashed back toward the road, expecting to
have a bullet sent after him each moment, but for some reason it did not
come.
Straining every muscle, he soon came near the fence, and at the same
moment he heard the pursuers close behind him. He had no time to climb
the fence, and gathered himself for a spring.
When he reached it, he placed his hand on the top rail, and made a
tremendous leap. He would have cleared it all right, but the rail gave
way under him, and he fell headlong into the grass on the roadside.
He sprang up, but it was too late. A heavy hand was laid on his collar,
and he was jerked violently around.
“Now I’ve got you,” said a rough voice. “I’ve a good mind to break your
head.”
“Let me go!” panted Paul.
“I’ll let you go, confound you,” roared his captor, shaking him
savagely. “Who are you?”
“None of your business,” said Paul fearlessly. “If you don’t let me go,
it’ll be worse for you.”
“Careful with that tongue of yours. Just come along back here.”
With a quick move the youth struck the man a stinging blow in the face.
The ruffian uttered a howl, and put up his hand. Paul broke loose, and
dashed away.
“Stop him, Dick,” cried the fellow he had hit. “Shoot him down; don’t
let him escape.”
Paul was running for all he was worth. Dick promptly gave chase. He was
a good runner, and, despite the boy’s desperate exertion, rapidly
overhauled him.
When he got near enough he struck at the boy with his fist, and once
more Paul sprawled into the road. He was partially stunned, and, before
he could recover, both men were upon him.
“Let me smash him,” cried the one savagely. “He nearly broke my nose.
Just let me get at him.”
“Oh, what’s the use!” said the other. “We’ve no time to fool with him.
Give me your handkerchief.”
The man did so, and in a few minutes Paul’s hands were secured behind
him, he was lifted between them, and carried back to the cave.
Here he was laid down, and Dick began searching him.
“We may as well take whatever you’ve got of value,” he said. “We deserve
something for that blasted run you gave us.”
Paul’s heart sank. His mother’s hard-earned fifty dollars would be
stolen.
The man soon found the book and the bills, and chuckled as he saw the
money. Then, by the light of the lantern which he had relighted, he
examined the book, and uttered a low whistle.
“Well, I’ll be hanged, Joe,” he cried, “if here isn’t one o’ the
Buildin’ and Loan books; fifty dollars along with it, too, by the great
thunder! Well, youngster, we’d only get this money anyhow, so we’ll take
it now. Wish we could get all that’ll be paid in to-night as easy as we
get this.”
He put the bills into his pocket, after which Paul was thrown into the
cave. A large stone lying near was rolled against the entrance, and
Paul’s capture was complete.
Hour after hour passed till the boy knew it must be after midnight. Then
the men prepared to leave.
“I reckon you’ll be comfortable there for some time, bub,” said one, as
they moved away. “You can thank your lucky stars that we didn’t kill
you.”
The next moment they were gone. Paul tugged at the bandage confining his
wrists.
“I must get away and warn Mr. Bolton,” he reflected excitedly. “They may
kill him.”
But the handkerchief was well tied, and he could not weaken it.
“What shall I do?” he cried desperately. “I must get away.”
Then an idea flashed into his mind. He rolled over, with his back
against the rock, and, despite the pain, began rubbing the handkerchief
against it.
His hands were soon bruised and bleeding, but he kept on, until finally
the linen was worn through, and dropped off.
He groped his way to the entrance, and tried to move the rock. He could
not budge it. He sank back again with a groan of dismay.
“Too bad,” was his despairing cry. “I can’t get out, after all. The men
must be almost there now. If----”
He thrust his hand into his pocket, and uttered a low cry. They had not
robbed him of his jackknife, and he soon had it out, digging away the
dirt for life.
How the boy worked! In half an hour he had dug a large cavity under one
side of the stone, and a hard push sent it over so that he managed to
squeeze through on the other side, and crawl from the cave.
Then off he started across fields for the house of Gilbert, the town
marshal. He had to cross a brook, but he did not lose time. He waded
through, and, with the water dripping from his garments, reached the
marshal’s house ten minutes later.
As soon as possible that individual was aroused, and Paul told his
story.
“Hurry,” he concluded. “You may be too late.”
In less than five minutes they were hurrying toward the treasurer’s
home. The marshal had two revolvers, one of which he handed to Paul.
“Don’t be afraid to use it,” he said, and a few minutes after they came
in sight of Mr. Bolton’s house.
They looked cautiously around as they approached, but all was silent.
Evidently the thieves had not arrived yet.
When they reached the house, the marshal rang the bell long and hard. A
moment later an upper window was raised, and Mr. Bolton called out:
“Who’s there?”
“It’s I, Gus,” said the marshal, stepping back and looking up. “Come
down, quick as you can, and open the door.”
Mr. Bolton knew the officer, and lost no time in admitting him.
“What is up?” he asked, when they were all inside.
The officer explained:
“They’ll be here soon,” he concluded. “We must be ready for ’em.”
Hasty preparations were made. Believing that the thieves were acquainted
with Mr. Bolton’s house, the officer concluded they would force an
entrance into the room where the treasurer kept his safe, and to this
apartment they all repaired.
A large, high-backed sofa was drawn up under the gas jet, the gas was
lighted and turned down low, and the three watchers crouched down behind
the safe.
“We’ll wait till they get in the room,” said the officer; “then I’ll
give you a nudge, Paul, and you must turn on the gas in full. Bolton and
I will cover ’em with our revolvers, and if they don’t surrender, we’ll
let ’em have it.”
Paul was much excited. But he tried to remember what the marshal had
told him, and held himself in readiness to turn on the gas when the
signal was given.
Suddenly a slight noise was heard near the window.
“Hist!” said the officer. “There they are!”
Two or three peculiar scratches were heard, then the sash was carefully
raised. In a moment the men climbed through the window and stood out on
the floor.
The marshal nudged Paul. A broad glare of light flooded the room, and at
the same moment Marshal Gilbert cried sternly:
“Surrender, or we’ll shoot you down!”
Startled into confusion by the sudden illumination of the room and the
ominous command, the two robbers became panic-stricken, and made a dash
for the window.
But the officer and Bolton were too quick for them. Their revolvers
cracked simultaneously, and both men went down, badly wounded. After
this their capture was easy, and they were soon disarmed and secured.
They were taken to jail, where their wounds were dressed, and when they
finally recovered were sent to prison.
Paul, of course, recovered his money, but the members of the Building
and Loan Association were so grateful for the valuable service he had
rendered them that they clubbed together and paid up his mother’s book
for several months to come.
THE PLUMAGE HUNTER.
Not very long ago the writer accompanied a gold-mining expedition into
the tropical forests of Guiana, and stumbled across an English traveler
who was collecting birds for a London and Parisian firm of merchants. He
was settled in a village of Acawois Indians, far from any of the haunts
of the white man. Every male Indian of the village was in his service,
and at the conclusion of each week they received pay, according to
results, in cheap knives, powder, hatchets, cooking utensils, et cetera;
pay day being usually celebrated by a feast, in which all the men got
fearfully intoxicated on a filthy compound called paiwarri.
We started out every morning immediately after breakfast. The Indians
were armed with bows and arrows and blowpipes. The collector divided
them into sections, and sent them off into the bush, himself
accompanying one group, but without doing any shooting. I fastened on to
a man and a boy, and kept close in their wake all day. With the skill of
a denizen of the woods, my man did not walk a step without rousing a
feathered creature of some sort. Sometimes a large bird--a toucan or a
macaw--would flap clumsily out of a bush, and the twang of the bowstring
would announce its death. Small birds fluttered across our path
constantly, and these were promptly brought down with the pipe. Now and
then a flight of a score or two would suddenly settle all over in the
branches about our heads, and on these occasions the Indian managed to
kill a dozen or so before they appeared to realize their danger. It was
kill, kill, kill, without a moment’s pause. As the birds fell, the boy
secured the bodies and dropped them into a long wicker basket, which was
strapped across his forehead and hung down his back.
On our return to the village the men were coming in and emptying their
baskets onto a long table in the middle of the Englishman’s hut. Many of
the birds were of the most brilliant plumage; but there were hundreds of
birds, not boasting any brightness of color, that were of no use. The
slaughter, in fact, is much greater in regard to the birds that are not
wanted than those which reach the English market. The collector,
stripped to the shirt, and with his sleeves rolled up, set to work at
once, going through the game. He handled every bird, dropping those
pretty enough for a bonnet or valuable enough for a collection into one
heap, and the useless ones into another. Not more than one bird in ten
was retained; the rest had been slaughtered uselessly. When I reproached
my friend with this wanton waste of feathered life, he replied that he
could not attempt to kill the birds himself, and it was impossible to
get Indians to discriminate between valuable and worthless specimens.
JOKES FROM JERROLD.
Douglas Jerrold, once the keenest of wits, a remarkable combination of
Thackeray and Hood, is now almost forgotten. It is a pity. His jests
were singularly ripe and racy. He had no mercy on the sentimentalists.
“I love nature,” said one of these dawdles to him one day. “I often take
a book, retire into some unfrequented field, lie down, gaze on the
heavens, then study. If there are any animals in the field, so much the
better. The cow approaches, and looks down upon me; and I--I look up to
her.”
“Exactly,” said Jerrold, “you look up to her with a filial smile!”
A delightful way of telling him he was a calf.
Another sentimentalist got a beautiful settler in this way: Walking in
the country, Jerrold and a small party of friends stopped to notice the
antics of a small donkey in a field. A gushing poet in the party said:
“Dear little thing; how I should like to buy it and give it to my
mother!”
“Do,” said Jerrold--“do, and tie this sweet motto round its neck: ‘When
this you see, remember me.’”
He had little mercy for pretentious prigs, who always abound in
“literary circles.” A young author had written on the same subject as
Lamartine, and bragged of it.
“Ah,” said he, “Lamartine and I row in the same boat.”
“Yes,” said Jerrold, “but not with the same skulls.”
Another of these gentry, praising one of his own plays, said to Jerrold:
“Do you remember the baroness in that play?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jerrold. “I never read anything of yours without being
struck with its barrenness!”
At the same time he always had a friendly hand for a man who was too
hard hit. A newspaper called the _Chronicle_, once attacked a young
friend of his, savagely assailing his work. Jerrold took up the cudgels
and wrote in his defense. He began by telling how, in some countries,
the too luxuriant growth of the vine is prevented by sending asses in to
crop the rising shoots. Then he gravely added:
“Even so young authors require pruning; and how thankful we all ought to
be that the _Chronicle_ keeps an ass!”
Walking one day in the Haymarket, then a rather disreputable promenade,
some one met him, and thus accosted him:
“What, Jerrold, you here? Looking about for characters, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Jerrold quietly; “I am told a good many are lost about
here.”
* * * * *
THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.
Michigan on Gridiron.
Six of the eight games which will make up the University of Michigan’s
1915 football schedule were announced recently by the board in control
of the athletics. The midweek games have not yet been decided upon.
The schedule follows:
October 9, Mount Union; October 16, Case; October 23, Michigan
Agricultural College; October 30, Syracuse; November 6, Cornell;
November 13, Pennsylvania at Philadelphia.
With the exception of the Pennsylvania game on Franklin Field, Michigan
will fight all her battles on the home gridiron next fall.
Hen and High-bred Chickens.
A hen of high-flying propensities advertised her character when a barred
Plymouth Rock, the property of Mr. Gushee, of Hastings, N. Y., announced
from a cedar tree on the Longue Vue estate, that she had a remarkable
secret to impart.
Those who answered the frenzied squawks for aid found with her a brood
of thirteen chicks. M. C. Cronin, who superintends the poultry stock at
Longue Vue, removed the flock from the tree crotch, which was twenty
feet from the ground, and installed the family in a comfortable house.
The hen had been missing for days, but no one thought to look for her at
such a height. Now they are trying to decide whether the birds are cedar
birds or plain chickens.
Destroying Odor of Smoke.
A new invention is a lamp which consumes smoke. It resembles an ordinary
alcohol lamp in appearance. At the tip of its burner is a piece of
platinum. When the platinum is made to glow by the alcohol flame arising
from the burner it gives off formaldehyde in great quantities. This
overcomes the smoke or any other impurity in the atmosphere. When the
lamp is lighted in a room where smoking is in progress it prevents the
accumulation of stale smoke. It can also be used as a disinfector.
Ex-slave Ill at 102.
Mrs. Minerva Gillies, whose father, Richard Washington, was George
Washington’s slave, was taken to the Harlem Hospital, in New York
recently, suffering from ailments that come with old age. She is 102
years old, and lived with her daughter at 58 West 133d Street.
Richard Washington was a stableboy at Mount Vernon. After the death of
George Washington, he was sold and went to Petersburg, Va. There Minerva
was born. She remained in slavery until the end of the Civil War, when
she came North.
From Gate to President.
At a meeting of the directors of Yale & Towne, of Stamford, Conn., the
largest hardware manufacturing concern in the country, if not in the
world, Walter C. Allen, who twenty-three years ago applied for a job at
the gate of the works, was elected president in the place of Henry R.
Towne, who retires after forty-six years in that position.
Mr. Towne was made chairman of the board of directors.
Death Takes Four of Family.
For the first time in the history of Loganville, Ga., according to the
older inhabitants, four deaths occurred in one family within four days.
Edgar Rickets, who lives about four miles west of the place, experienced
this affliction recently.
On a Monday he attended the funeral of his mother. That night his baby
died, and the next day his wife and little boy, about two years old,
also died, all being victims of pneumonia fever. The three bodies were
buried Wednesday in a local cemetery. This is the first time that a
triple funeral has ever occurred from one family in this section.
Dog Rescues an Old Soldier.
Wanderer, a smart collie, is being showered with attention as a hero in
Woodside, Md., for saving from death Charles McCallion, an aged veteran
of the Civil War. “Wan,” as the dog is commonly known, is owned by Edson
B. Olds, treasurer of the Union Trust Company.
Mr. Olds’ attention was attracted to the continuous barking and peculiar
antics of the dog on Sunday morning. Wan would dash up to the house and
bark for a few minutes, then run to a field near by and bark again.
When Mr. Olds followed Wan on one of the trips, he found McCallion lying
in the middle of the field, unconscious from the cold. A physician was
summoned, and the aged veteran was taken to the Soldiers’ Hospital. He
will recover.
Ding Dong! Go Bells for Wong Chungs.
Mr. Wong Chung, late of China, whose head is said to be worth $10,000 to
certain bloodthirsty officials of his native land, and Mrs. Chung Fong,
more recently of the Celestial republic, who has traveled 10,000 miles
to wed the political refugee with the precious cranium, were married in
New York recently at the First Chinese Presbyterian Church by the
Reverend Huie Kin.
The flavor of romance which one might expect from the above was absent
at the ceremony. Mr. Chung is tall and thin, with the face of a student.
He was attired in the official gala dress of the new republic, which
consists of gray trousers, Prince Albert, high collar, and ascot tie.
His bride, who is a slim, elderly lady, with gold-rimmed spectacles,
wore a native Chinese costume of white silk, with a loose tunic effect
and a short white veil. She bought this just before she set out in
search of the prospective husband, whom she had not seen in ten years.
Many of the elite of the Chinese colony, which is not to be confused
with Chinatown, witnessed the ceremony. Miss Fun Hin Liu, a Wellesley
graduate, was the bridesmaid, and Mr. Lo Lam, a student from Columbia,
was best man. After the ceremony, which was the simple Presbyterian
ritual, delivered in English by the pastor of the church, Professor Ou,
of the Canton Chinese College, made singing noises while the newly
married pair had their pictures taken.
Mrs. Fong met her husband ten years ago while he was serving as dean of
the Canton Christian College. Since then the two have kept up a
correspondence, which grew so ardent on his side that it finally lured
Mrs. Fong across the Pacific and to Chicago, where her husband-to-be met
her and brought her to New York.
Starved, Fight for Food.
Owing to the extended shutdown of the mines in Venetia, a small mining
town in Washington County, Pa., 480 persons, including many women and
children, are slowly starving to death. This message was received in a
letter sent to a local newspaper. Barks and herbs are the only food that
the starving people can obtain, and the pangs of hunger have so affected
many that they fight one another for the bark and herbs that can be
found in the fields and woods.
New Flag for Marshall.
Vice President Marshall is the first vice president of the United States
to have a naval flag all his own. The necessity for the creation of such
an ensign was brought about by the intended visit of Mr. Marshall, as
the president’s representative to the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San
Francisco.
When the vice president determined to go, and arrangements for his
reception were in progress, the navy department found that, while the
president and the secretary and assistant secretary of the navy each had
a flag, the vice president had none. The duty of providing a vice
president’s flag proved simple. The new banner will be the reverse of
the president’s flag in the color distribution. It will be of white,
with the arms of the United States--a spread eagle bearing on its breast
a shield of stars and stripes. The eagle will be of blue and the shield
in red, white, and blue.
J. B. Brady Aids Woman.
James B. Brady, noted as “Diamond Jim,” while sitting as a member of the
New York grand jury, was so touched by the story of one of the witnesses
that he suggested taking up a collection for her. Just to start things
off, he tossed a brand-new one-hundred-dollar bill on the stenographer’s
table, and when the other jurors had added their contributions, there
was $130 in the purse.
Mrs. Marka Buila, of 1324 First Avenue, was the woman whose plight
touched Mr. Brady’s heart. She told the jury that she had been robbed of
all her money, jewelry, and clothing, and when she was summoned to
testify last Monday, had to walk to the Criminal Courts Building from
her home in Harlem.
The man against whom the woman was testifying was indicted.
Army of Institutions.
Charitable, civic, and religious organizations exceeding 3,800 are
working for the betterment of people and things in New York City,
according to the directory issued by the Charity Organization Society.
There are 1,800 churches. Social centers and settlements, 150 in
Manhattan and forty-one in the other boroughs, lead the remainder of
the list, which includes hospitals, kindergartens, homes, nurseries, and
missionary societies. Included in the directory are the names of twelve
war-relief bodies. About 6,000 persons are associated with charitable
agencies.
Anarchist Plot Revealed.
One of the exhibits at the next county fair in Metuchen, N. J., will be
a prize Jersey anarchist, guaranteed to give results any place at any
time.
A farm where anarchists will be reared in proper anarchistic atmosphere
was purchased recently by a man who said he was Harry Kelly, chairman of
the Ferrer Settlement, of New York City. He bought the sixty-nine-acre
farm of Walter Rush, in Raritan Township, where, he declared, the
headquarters of the Ferrer School will be established about May 1st.
“Our main object,” he said, “in establishing the colony is to produce
genuine anarchists, and we must rear our children in a thoroughly
anarchistic atmosphere.”
The plot will be cut up into building lots. To each anarchist will be
given one plot, upon which he is expected to sow the seeds of anarchy,
tomatoes, and turnips. Kelly says the settlement will be the anarchist
headquarters in the East.
This town is all excited. It remembers with painful distinctness what
happened four years ago, when the socialists established a colony near
the site of the contemplated anarchist farm. Professor George D. Herron
and Eugene V. Debs took the leading part in the formation of the
socialist pasture ground.
Nobody took more than the usual curious interest in the project until
the announcement seeped into this town that Herron was going to bring
Miss Carrie Rand to live with him “according to the new and simple form
of marriage ceremony.”
Metuchen isn’t exactly puritan, but when that news reached it, every
Metuchenite dug his Bible out of the attic and joined his neighbor in
excited protest. Metuchen was willing to tolerate some things, but when
it came to winking at free love, never!
So highly excited did the townsfolk become that Herron and his wife left
for Florence, Italy, where they lived until her death a year ago. And
even though the socialist farm was established, nothing that resembled
free love ever made its appearance.
That’s why Metuchen sizzles with palpitating expectation and teems with
a throbbing skepticism. It knows what the I. W. W. folk have done in
Paterson, another Jersey town, and it has read what the anarchists in
New York are reputed to have done.
Metuchen was able to repel the socialists when they would have set up a
free-love colony in the neighborhood. But it is not so sure that it can
stand off genuine anarchists.
Rowing Dates for Year.
In addition to the announcement on Saturday night that the championship
meet of the National Association of Amateur Oarsmen would be held at
Springfield, Mass., on August 13th and 14th, the following rowing dates
were made public by the Amateur American Rowing Association:
May 22--American Rowing Association, at Philadelphia; May 31--New York
Rowing Association, on the Harlem River, New York; June 19--Schuylkill
Navy Regatta, at Philadelphia; July 3--Hudson River Rowing Association
meet; July 5--People’s regatta, at Philadelphia; New England regatta, at
Charles Basin, Boston; Western Massachusetts Rowing Association, at
Springfield, Mass.; Rosedale Boat Club open regatta, on Hackensack
River, New Jersey; September 6--Middle States Rowing Association, meet
date not yet fixed; New England Rowing Association regatta, at Boston;
Detroit River Rowing Association, at Detroit; September 9 to 15--Pacific
Coast Association meet at Pan-American Fair, San Francisco; September
15--Detroit River Rowing Association, at Detroit.
Reduce World Armies Plan.
A movement to bring about a world-wide restriction of armies and navies
by international agreement after the European War is ended is announced
by the American League to Limit Armaments. The crusade is being
organized through conferences and correspondence with leaders of public
opinion in several foreign countries, it was stated.
“We are undertaking to solidify the movement and co-ordinate the efforts
along this line while the war is still in progress, in order to make the
strongest possible presentation of the issue at the earliest opportune
moment,” says the league’s announcement. “We are not proposing methods
to bring peace to Europe until Europe is ready to stop fighting of its
own accord. We stand by what we hold to be the main proposition--that
the reduction of all armaments to the least proportions consistent with
the demands of normal tranquillity and the use of the money now going
into destructive engines of war for the constructive agencies of peace
is the true solution of the peace problem.”
To Sell a Pilgrim’s House.
The only remaining house in America which has sheltered persons who came
to Plymouth on the _Mayflower_ in 1620 is to be sold at auction by order
of the court.
The house was built in 1666 by a son of John Howland, the last
_Mayflower_ survivor. In course of time the building fell into decay,
but upon the organization in 1911 of the Society of the Descendants of
Pilgrim John Howland of the ship _Mayflower_, the property was acquired
and restored by that body.
Lieutenant Shares Meal with Private.
Some excitement was created in a Piccadilly grill at luncheon time when
a private English “Tommy” walked in and sat down at a table with a young
lieutenant. The private is the young officer’s father, and before the
war held a high position in a London bank. His lunching with the officer
caused some discussion, and some said it was too much democracy even for
the English army.
After the meal the young officer said: “Should you refuse to let the
governor buy you a lunch merely because he is a Tommy?”
Skipper of Six-master at Twenty-one.
Shortly after the _E. R. Sterling_, the only six-masted barkentine in
the world, arrived in San Francisco, Cal., from Nanaimo, B. C., laden
with coal, she was boarded by Federal operatives, who made a thorough
search of the hold for a high-power wireless apparatus which officials
have been informed is destined to be transferred at sea to a foreign
warship from some American vessel in the near future. No apparatus was
found.
Captain Edward Sterling, junior, son of the owner of the _E. R.
Sterling_, is only twenty-one years old, and is said to be the youngest
skipper of a deep-water ship to possess a master’s license. The vessel
requires a crew of only twelve men, as her sails are raised by donkey
engines.
Canary Sings in Trenches.
A private of the English Second Rifle Brigade, writing to a friend at
Sheffield, England, tells this story of a canary which he says sings and
cheers his comrades through the smoke of battle:
“Our only companion--in the trenches--is a little canary we rescued from
a deserted house, which had been almost shelled to atoms. On the cage
was a ticket: ‘Please look after this little bird.’ It has made itself
quite at home with us. When we leave the trenches, we hand it over to
the next regiment. So you may guess it’s made quite a fuss of. Last time
we went into the trenches our canary was almost black through the smoke
from shell fire, but it seems as cheerful as ever. Really, it gets so
black with smoke that it’s a job to distinguish it from a sparrow.”
Dickens is German Soldiers’ Favorite.
Dickens is the German soldiers’ favorite novelist. He stands first in a
list of fifty authors prepared by the great publishing house of Reclam,
of Leipzig, famous for its cheap reprints.
Of the total number of orders from the German troops at the front
forty-eight per cent calls for fiction, nineteen per cent for serious
reading, comprising philosophy, religion, and arts; seventeen per cent
for poetry and drama, and sixteen per cent for light miscellaneous
stuff, including humorous works.
The German soldier is catholic in his taste when it comes to fiction,
for not only does he top his list with Dickens, but includes twenty-one
other foreign novelists, among whom appear Bulwer, Defoe, Scott, Dumas,
Daudet, Merimée, Prevost, and Victor Hugo.
Forests Fired by Sparks.
Of the 503 fires reported by the United States Forest Service as having
occurred in 1914 in the national forest purchase areas in the White
Mountains of New England and the Southern Appalachians, 319, or sixty
per cent, were caused by sparks from locomotives. More than half of
these fires, or 272, occurred in Virginia alone, and of these 227 were
from locomotive sparks.
Three hundred and seventy-nine of the fires were confined to areas of
less than ten acres each, and 296 were put out before a quarter of an
acre had been burned. The total loss amounted to $2,192, and the cost of
fire fighting to $1,300, an infinitesimal sum compared with the value of
the timber and reproduction protected. As the areas swept by fire were
mostly cut over, the greater part of the damage was suffered by young
growth.
Expert Stump Blower Has Narrow Escape.
Jake Bodine, prominent tailor and stump blower of Kenton, Ohio, sat at
his ease and smoked his pipe.
When it went out, he lighted it again. When it went out a second time,
he decided he had had enough, and laid the pipe aside.
He had been blowing stumps with dynamite during the day, and had brought
four large caps home in his pocket.
Reaching into his pocket in which he had put the caps, and in which he
carried his smoking tobacco as well, he found three caps instead of
four.
When he emptied the ashes from his pipe in search of the fourth cap,
that fourth cap rattled out, badly scorched.
“It’s a good thing my pipe went out when it did,” he says. “If that cap
had gone off, like as not it would have ruined one of the best stump
blowers in Kenton.”
Killed Nineteen California Lions.
Nineteen California lions fell before the guns of the bounty hunters in
February. Four were killed in Humboldt County; three in Siskiyou; three
in Lake; two in Mendocino; two in Ventura, and one each in San Benito,
Del Norte, Monterey, Tehama, and Tuolumne. The State paid twenty dollars
to each successful hunter, and in addition to this the pelts brought as
much more. Some counties also give a special bounty for lions’ scalps.
Officers Applaud New Box Wireless.
Under the direction of the secretary of war a new wireless apparatus,
the invention of Doctor Otto F. Reinhold, of 77 Nye Avenue, Newark, N.
J., was tested at Bedloe’s Island by First Lieutenant J. G. Taylor, of
the Signal Corps, and M. B. Dilley, master signal electrician. The
government men declared afterward that the apparatus gave promise of
revolutionizing the entire system of wireless telegraphy.
The apparatus, inclosed in a box about fifteen inches long, six inches
wide, and eight inches high, may be styled a secret radio plant, and is
intended primarily for use in the army field. The astounding feature of
it, according to Lieutenant Taylor, is that it was fully demonstrated
that the little contrivance sends out its sound waves without antennæ.
The experiment enabled the government officials to communicate with Fort
Totten, about fifteen miles away in one direction, and Fort Hancock,
about twenty miles distant in another. The navy-yard wireless station
called a halt on the tests as the inventor was about to try to reach
Fort H. G. Wright, one hundred and twenty miles away, at New London,
Conn.
Doctor Reinhold said his apparatus could be connected wherever direct or
alternating current is available. He said it could be used on an
automobile and operated while the machine was at top speed by using
current supplied from the automobile dynamo.
The inventor claimed for his apparatus that in a recent test he sent a
message three hundred miles.
Echoes of War in London Want Ads.
Want advertisements are always interesting because of the varied and
intimate side lights which they give on what people are doing and
thinking about. As war topics fill the news and editorial columns of the
English newspapers, so is the war the all-absorbing subject in the
classified department. Following are a few of the advertisements
appearing in the London _Times_, sent to the _Blade_ by Mr. Boyce as
showing how England is taking the war:
Dogs and cats of the empire!--The kaiser said: “Germany will fight to
last dog and cat.” Will British dogs and cats give 6d. each to provide
Y. M. C. A. soldiers’ hut at front? Any dog or cat sending five pounds
can have his or her picture hung in “our” hut.--“Tom,” care of Miss Maud
Field, Mortimer West, Berks.
Request from sailors and soldiers at the front to send large
consignments of flint and tinder lighters; matches, when procurable,
being unreliable in wet weather. Money to help purchase direct from
makers solicited.--Address Haden Crawford, esquire, Marlow, Bucks.
Ninth Seaforth Highlanders.--Field glasses are required for the use of
N. C. O.’s and scouts, and will be gratefully received and acknowledged
by Captain Petty, Salamanca Barracks, Aldershot.
Playing Cards (used) urgently required for wounded soldiers.--Gratefully
received by Miss Peck, Maidencombe, St. Mary Church, Devon.
Urgently needed, socks for the Eighth Irish Service Battalion, King’s
Liverpool regiment, shortly leaving for the front.--Gratefully
acknowledged by Miss Cox, The Priory, Royston, Herts.
Elizabeth Motor Ambulance.--Will every one named “Elizabeth” in Great
Britain and Ireland send me contribution toward above--in connection
with Lady Bushman’s Ambulance Fleet--and save our soldiers much
unnecessary suffering?--Mrs. F. Ford, Rushmere, Wimbledon Common, S. W.
Wounded Soldiers “Margaret” Fund.--“Lady Margarets” subscribe a guinea.
“Margarets” over sixteen, half guinea; “Little Margarets,” 2s. 6d. Lady
Margaret Hospital, Bromley, Kent. Lady Margaret Campbell, Hon.
Treasurer.
Loses Leg After Fifty Years.
Fifty years after a Confederate shell had struck and injured his right
leg, Ellet Ramsey, of Huntingdon, Pa., had the leg removed at the Blair
Hospital. The amputation was made necessary by suffering from the old
wound received half a century ago. He stood the operation well and will
recover.
Angry Lamb Injures Woman.
Mrs. Garret Smith, of Liberty, Pa., is suffering from severe injuries
received by being butted by an angry lamb. Dan Carroll, a neighbor of
the Smith family, is the owner of the lamb, which escaped from its
premises and went into the Smith yard. Before Mrs. Smith realized what
had happened, she was knocked to the ground and seriously injured, one
of her arms being broken.
Lost Boys Found in Abandoned Mine.
After searching a week for two small boys who were missing from their
homes during that time, the searchers found the body of William Hale,
five years old, and his companion, Albert Tomlinson, aged ten, still
alive, in an abandoned mine near Banksville, Pa. The boys had been lost
in the mine all that time. Young Tomlinson was almost exhausted from
exposure and hunger.
The boys were in a small five-foot drop in a mine pit which had several
inches of water in it. The body of the Hale boy was partly submerged in
the water, but his head was resting in the lap of his companion, who
could barely sit erect. The younger boy had starved to death.
After searching for several days for the missing lads, the party entered
the mine pit. They had progressed only a short distance when they heard
a faint voice crying: “Oh, Thomas; oh, Thomas!” It was young Tomlinson
calling for his older brother.
When rescued, young Tomlinson said: “Thank God you found us.”
Tomlinson told an incoherent story. He said he had no idea of time, but
as nearly as he could tell Hale had been dead about two days. He said
they walked hand in hand many miles, endeavoring to find a way out.
After his comrade died, Tomlinson said, he carried the body around with
him. Overcome with exhaustion, he gave up all efforts and had not
sufficient strength to get out of the pool of poisonous water in which
he and Hale’s body was found.
It is not known how the Tomlinson boy survived the ordeal, but it is
supposed that he subsisted on bark from old timber in the mine. He is in
a hospital now.
Catches Baby Boy on Roof of Moving Train.
An escape from death without precedent occurred in Pittsburgh, recently,
on the Pennsylvania Railroad. Walter Betle, four years old, was playing
on the bridge at Thirty-third Street, near where the flooring was being
repaired. He stumbled at a hole and started to fall to the tracks,
twenty-five feet below.
A freight train was within a few feet of the bridge, running at high
speed. On the roof of the first box car was Richard Roundtree, a
brakeman, saw the boy stumble through the bridge. He braced himself and
managed to catch him as he fell. Roundtree staggered dangerously near
the edge of the roof, but managed to keep his footing until the train
was stopped.
Has Wonderful “Peace” Egg.
Sam Marks’ Plymouth Rock hen, of Orville, Cal., which recently laid an
egg bearing the Hebrew word for “peace” neatly inscribed thereon, is
bringing her owner much fame and large daily mail. The president of the
Panama-Pacific Exposition has written to Marks, inclosing a free pass to
the exposition and asking Marks to bring the wonderful egg and “Martha,”
the remarkable hen, with him.
Lands 975 War Horses Across Ocean Safely.
Doctor E. R. Forbes, of Fort Worth, Texas, who, early in January,
resigned as State veterinarian to return to British service, recently
took the record on animal transportation, having landed in Europe 975
head of animals without losing one.
Doctor Forbes was in good health when the letter containing the news of
his safe arrival at his destination in England was written, and
signified his intention of remaining in the animal-transport service of
Great Britain as long as his services were required during the war.
Doctor Forbes was employed by the British government during the Boer War
in the same position he now occupies. At that time he took two cargoes
of horses from New Orleans to South Africa, and, after demonstrating how
to care for the animals on shipboard during such a long voyage, returned
to New Orleans, where he continued to pass upon the soundness and
stamina of horses and mules for the British army while the Boer War
lasted.
Taking 975 head of animals across the Atlantic in mid-winter was a feat
in maritime equine transportation never before equaled, and especially
when it is taken into consideration that not an animal was lost during
the voyage.
This is quite in contradistinction to the fate of a shipload of horses
consigned to the Italian government by the steamer _Evelyn_. When the
steamer neared the Bermuda Islands, the condenser on the vessel broke,
and, no water being available, the cargo, 366 head, was driven into the
sea.
Another shipment to Italy arrived at its destination with only
seventy-eight alive out of 345 when the vessel left an American port.
Michigan Has Climbing Cow.
Marshall Rust, a farmer, of Lapeer, Mich., possesses several cows that
are as graceful examples of bovine femininity as ever chewed a cud, but,
in addition, one of them has some athletic ability.
Mr. Rust recently turned his cows into a field in which was also a wagon
partly loaded with bean pods. One night he went out to milk his cows
just after darkness had set in and found one missing. He searched over
the near-by fields for several hours, but to no avail.
When morning came, the lost cow was found sleeping peacefully on the
load of bean pods. The cow had climbed on the wagon, six feet from the
ground.
Timber Inspector Slays Three Bears.
Mat Jordan, expert timber inspector, living in Turner, Mich., is the
hero of the hour just now in that town and vicinity. Old residents,
especially those who came from the East many years ago, declare that if
Mat had lived in the good old pioneer days of which J. Fenimore Cooper
so charmingly wrote, Mat would have made as interesting a story hero as
did Natty Bumpo, the famous deer slayer, only Mat’s long suit is bears,
no matter how many.
Mat was strolling through the woods near here with a double-bladed ax on
his shoulder. He was there to look over some timber land, with a
prospective dicker looming up in his speculative mind. While pausing to
inspect a likely looking log that lay half concealed with dead brush, he
heard a noise. Stepping toward the sound to investigate, he beheld a
large black bear emerging from its den.
“Great siege guns!” exclaimed Mat, “this looks like war.”
It was war, and it started right away, for Mat swung his double-edged ax
and soon had the enemy at his feet, registering its final kicks and last
gasps. While he was surveying his conquered foe with a gleam of triumph
in his weather eye, he suddenly had occasion to exclaim:
“Well, for the love of Mike, look who’s here!”
Two more bears, but young, half-grown ones, which were quickly
dispatched and laid alongside their mother. The large bear weighed 175
pounds.
Mat went after help, and the carcasses were brought to town, where they
were viewed by hundreds of persons all of whom were of the opinion that
Mat Jordan is the champion bear slayer of Michigan.
Strangest Fresh-water Fish.
George Welscher, who lives in Illinois, opposite Commerce, Mo., caught a
strange-looking fish in the Mississippi River the other day. He had been
told that if one would break the ice near the shore and drop a baited
hook in the water, he could sure catch fish. He decided to try it, and
had only been fishing a few minutes when he landed a queer specimen, to
describe it mildly. It had a head like a dog’s, but the body was like a
fish. Where the fins should be it had something like wings, which it
could open and close. It had a tail similar to a cat’s, with fur on it
like a cat’s, and on which the water seemed to have no effect.
Near the end of the tail there were three prongs, each having a
different color of fur on them--one blue, one white, and the other a
shade of yellow. It had a tusk about two inches long in its mouth. Its
eyes were in the tip of its tail, and instead of having two eyes, it had
three. Welscher said he had no trouble landing the fish, and as soon as
landed it began to bark like a dog.
Saved Russian from Big Bear.
Andy Williams, an employee of the Gagen Lumber and Cedar Company, of
Gagen, Wis., in one of their camps, two miles from this village, killed
what is thought to be the largest bear ever seen in this vicinity, it
weighing nearly 500 pounds.
A Russian who was swamping out logs suddenly aroused a monster bear,
and, in his excitement, accidentally hit bruin on the head. The bear,
furious at being struck, made for the Russian, who was now fleeing down
the road at his utmost speed. The Russ no doubt imagined that his end
was near and that there was at least one Russian who would never get
back across the big pond to face a German gun. He probably never would
have if Andy Williams hadn’t come to his rescue and dispatched the bear
with an ax.
They went back and found three cubs in a hollow log, and they are now
getting the best of care at the camp.
Tiny Locomotive is Wonder in Details.
A perfect model of an oil-burning railway locomotive, forty-two inches
long, is to be put on exhibition at the Panama-Pacific Exposition.
Arthur H. Johnson, of Seattle, Wash., who built the model, has been
requested by the San Francisco authorities to enter the locomotive as an
exhibit, and he has consented.
Johnson, who is a young electrician, spent three years in making the
model to try out an invention of his on the fire box. The engine is
equipped with air brakes, an electric-light system, and everything else
that a modern locomotive has. The boiler has been tested out at 150
pounds working pressure.
A Massachusetts man has built a miniature battleship, thirteen feet in
length, which has all the features of a real dreadnaught, including guns
that fire, range finders, wireless instruments, gunners, and even a band
that plays martial music. The vessel is propelled by electricity, and
can make ten miles an hour in smooth water....
Santa’s Aids Honored.
A large statue of Santa Claus, made of paper pulp molded from five
thousand letters written by poor children of the city to Kris Kringle,
was presented at the Hotel Astor, in New York City, to William C. and F.
A. Muschenheim, two of Santa’s aids. It is the gift of the Santa Claus
Association and the Waterman’s Ideal Ten-year Club.
John D. Gluck, founder of the Santa Claus Association, presented the
figure to the Muschenheims. The statue is three-quarters life size and
rests on a base of Italian marble. Kratina, the sculptor, spent two
months in molding it.
The inscription says the gift is in recognition of “assistance rendered
to the children of the poor, who wrote to Santa Claus. A fortune was
sent to poor kiddies, for fuel, food, and toys, and five thousand of
them no longer say there is no Santa Claus.”
Find Missing Man in Shark.
The mystery surrounding the disappearance three years ago at St.
Augustine, Fla., of John B. Mooney, of Mooney Brothers’ Company, was
cleared up when his son, Edgar J. Mooney, of Cleveland, Ohio, received
word from Miami, Fla., that the upper portion of a human skeleton, which
is thought to be that of J. B. Mooney, had been found in the stomach of
a shark caught near there this week.
In 1912 the elder Mooney was in bathing at St. Augustine when he
suddenly disappeared in the surf. It was thought that a strong undertow
had carried him out to sea, but it is now believed a shark seized him.
Interesting New Inventions.
The “bicycle built for two” about which there used to be a song was
followed by the motor cycle carrying two passengers. This has now been
improved upon. The newest kind has two chair seats, one behind the
other, instead of saddles.
To save neckties from the wear and tear of pinholes, a scarfpin has been
patented that clips on the edge of a tie.
In the interest of cleanliness, an Iowa inventor has patented a wire
frame to hold a milk pail up from the ground.
A Frenchman has invented a machine for dealing cards that is said to
make misdeals impossible.
A microthermometer has been invented that is so delicate that it is
capable of registering sea-water temperature changes to one-thousandth
of a degree. The instrument is intended to enable ship’s officers to
detect their approach to icebergs.
A novel wrench that will hold a nut of almost any size is made of a
single piece of steel, the handle being split so that the jaws are
sprung together as a strain is applied.
Snake Poison Fails to Cure.
Rattlesnake venom as a cure for epilepsy proved a failure in official
tests conducted by the State of Kansas. A report filed in Chicago by
Doctor M. L. Perry, superintendent of the State Hospital for Epileptics,
at Parsons, notes the effect of the venom on six patients at the
institution who received the treatment for two months.
“In two cases there were more attacks than before; another was
unchanged, and one patient’s condition grew so alarming that the
treatment was discontinued in two weeks,” the report says.
TOBACCO HABIT You can conquer it easily in 5 days, improve your
health, prolong your life. No more stomach trouble, no foul breath,
no heart weakness. Regain manly vigor, calm nerves, clear eyes &
superior mental strength. Whether you chew; or smoke pipe,
cigarettes, cigars, get my interesting Tobacco Book. Worth its
weight in gold. Mailed free. E. J. WOODS, 230 K, Station E. New
York, N.Y.
The Nick Carter Stories
ISSUED EVERY SATURDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS
When it comes to detective stories worth while, the =Nick Carter Stories=
contain the only ones that should be considered. They are not overdrawn
tales of bloodshed. They rather show the working of one of the finest
minds ever conceived by a writer. The name of Nick Carter is familiar
all over the world, for the stories of his adventures may be read in
twenty languages. No other stories have withstood the severe test of
time so well as those contained in the =Nick Carter Stories=. It proves
conclusively that they are the best. We give herewith a list of some of
the back numbers in print. You can have your news dealer order them, or
they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt
of the price in money or postage stamps.
704--Written in Red.
707--Rogues of the Air.
709--The Bolt from the Blue.
710--The Stockbridge Affair.
711--A Secret from the Past.
712--Playing the Last Hand.
713--A Slick Article.
714--The Taxicab Riddle.
717--The Master Rogue’s Alibi.
719--The Dead Letter.
720--The Allerton Millions.
728--The Mummy’s Head.
729--The Statue Clue.
730--The Torn Card.
731--Under Desperation’s Spur.
732--The Connecting Link.
733--The Abduction Syndicate.
736--The Toils of a Siren.
738--A Plot Within a Plot.
739--The Dead Accomplice.
741--The Green Scarab.
746--The Secret Entrance.
747--The Cavern Mystery.
748--The Disappearing Fortune.
749--A Voice from the Past.
752--The Spider’s Web.
753--The Man With a Crutch.
754--The Rajah’s Regalia.
755--Saved from Death.
756--The Man Inside.
757--Out for Vengeance.
758--The Poisons of Exili.
759--The Antique Vial.
760--The House of Slumber.
761--A Double Identity.
762--“The Mocker’s” Stratagem.
763--The Man that Came Back.
764--The Tracks in the Snow.
765--The Babbington Case.
766--The Masters of Millions.
767--The Blue Stain.
768--The Lost Clew.
770--The Turn of a Card.
771--A Message in the Dust.
772--A Royal Flush.
774--The Great Buddha Beryl.
775--The Vanishing Heiress.
776--The Unfinished Letter.
777--A Difficult Trail.
782--A Woman’s Stratagem.
783--The Cliff Castle Affair.
784--A Prisoner of the Tomb.
785--A Resourceful Foe.
789--The Great Hotel Tragedies.
795--Zanoni, the Transfigured.
796--The Lure of Gold.
797--The Man With a Chest.
798--A Shadowed Life.
799--The Secret Agent.
800--A Plot for a Crown.
801--The Red Button.
802--Up Against It.
803--The Gold Certificate.
804--Jack Wise’s Hurry Call.
805--Nick Carter’s Ocean Chase.
806--Nick Carter and the Broken Dagger.
807--Nick Carter’s Advertisement.
808--The Kregoff Necklace.
810--The Copper Cylinder.
811--Nick Carter and the Nihilists.
812--Nick Carter and the Convict Gang.
813--Nick Carter and the Guilty Governor.
814--The Triangled Coin.
815--Ninety-nine--and One.
816--Coin Number 77.
NEW SERIES
NICK CARTER STORIES
1--The Man from Nowhere.
2--The Face at the Window.
3--A Fight for a Million.
4--Nick Carter’s Land Office.
5--Nick Carter and the Professor.
6--Nick Carter as a Mill Hand.
7--A Single Clew.
8--The Emerald Snake.
9--The Currie Outfit.
10--Nick Carter and the Kidnapped Heiress.
11--Nick Carter Strikes Oil.
12--Nick Carter’s Hunt for a Treasure.
13--A Mystery of the Highway.
14--The Silent Passenger.
15--Jack Dreen’s Secret.
16--Nick Carter’s Pipe Line Case.
17--Nick Carter and the Gold Thieves.
18--Nick Carter’s Auto Chase.
19--The Corrigan Inheritance.
20--The Keen Eye of Denton.
21--The Spider’s Parlor.
22--Nick Carter’s Quick Guess.
23--Nick Carter and the Murderess.
24--Nick Carter and the Pay Car.
25--The Stolen Antique.
26--The Crook League.
27--An English Cracksman.
28--Nick Carter’s Still Hunt.
29--Nick Carter’s Electric Shock.
30--Nick Carter and the Stolen Duchess.
31--The Purple Spot.
32--The Stolen Groom.
33--The Inverted Cross.
34--Nick Carter and Keno McCall.
35--Nick Carter’s Death Trap.
36--Nick Carter’s Siamese Puzzle.
37--The Man Outside.
38--The Death Chamber.
39--The Wind and the Wire.
40--Nick Carter’s Three Cornered Chase.
41--Dazaar, the Arch-Fiend.
42--The Queen of the Seven.
43--Crossed Wires.
44--A Crimson Clew.
45--The Third Man.
46--The Sign of the Dagger.
47--The Devil Worshipers.
48--The Cross of Daggers.
49--At Risk of Life.
50--The Deeper Game.
51--The Code Message.
52--The Last of the Seven.
53--Ten-Ichi, the Wonderful.
54--The Secret Order of Associated Crooks.
55--The Golden Hair Clew.
56--Back From the Dead.
57--Through Dark Ways.
58--When Aces Were Trumps.
59--The Gambler’s Last Hand.
60--The Murder at Linden Fells.
61--A Game for Millions.
62--Under Cover.
63--The Last Call.
64--Mercedes Danton’s Double.
65--The Millionaire’s Nemesis.
66--A Princess of the Underworld.
67--The Crook’s Blind.
68--The Fatal Hour.
69--Blood Money.
70--A Queen of Her Kind.
71--Isabel Benton’s Trump Card.
72--A Princess of Hades.
73--A Prince of Plotters.
74--The Crook’s Double.
75--For Life and Honor.
76--A Compact With Dazaar.
77--In the Shadow of Dazaar.
78--The Crime of a Money King.
79--Birds of Prey.
80--The Unknown Dead.
81--The Severed Hand.
82--The Terrible Game of Millions.
83--A Dead Man’s Power.
84--The Secrets of an Old House.
85--The Wolf Within.
86--The Yellow Coupon.
87--In the Toils.
88--The Stolen Radium.
89--A Crime in Paradise.
90--Behind Prison Bars.
91--The Blind Man’s Daughter.
92--On the Brink of Ruin.
93--Letter of Fire.
94--The $100,000 Kiss.
95--Outlaws of the Militia.
96--The Opium-Runners.
97--In Record Time.
98--The Wag-Nuk Clew.
99--The Middle Link.
100--The Crystal Maze.
101--A New Serpent in Eden.
102--The Auburn Sensation.
103--A Dying Chance.
104--The Gargoni Girdle.
105--Twice in Jeopardy.
106--The Ghost Launch.
107--Up in the Air.
108--The Girl Prisoner.
109--The Red Plague.
110--The Arson Trust.
111--The King of the Firebugs.
112--“Lifter’s” of the Lofts.
113--French Jimmie and His Forty Thieves.
114--The Death Plot.
115--The Evil Formula.
116--The Blue Button.
117--The Deadly Parallel.
118--The Vivisectionists.
119--The Stolen Brain.
120--An Uncanny Revenge.
121--The Call of Death.
122--The Suicide.
123--Half a Million Ransom.
124--The Girl Kidnapper.
125--The Pirate Yacht.
126--The Crime of the White Hand.
127--Found in the Jungle.
128--Six Men in a Loop.
129--The Jewels of Wat Chang.
130--The Crime in the Tower.
131--The Fatal Message.
132--Broken Bars.
Dated March 27th, 1915.
133--Won by Magic.
Dated April 3d, 1915.
134--The Secret of Shangore.
Dated April 10th, 1915.
135--Straight to the Goal.
Dated April 17th, 1915.
136--The Man They Held Back.
PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY. If you want any back numbers of our weeklies
and cannot procure them from your news dealer, they can be obtained
direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money.
STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK CITY