SYNOPSIS or' PRECEDING CHAPTERS-Guy Hmleigh leaves England to and his long lost cousin in San Francisco. Haida Carriag- Iord, an actress in that city, is pes- tered by genteel loafers amongst whom is Caryl Wilton who proposes nnd is rejected. She learns the story of her mother’s betrayal by Sir Richard Hartleigh. Sir Rich- ard's child, Constance. whom Guy is But alter the meal there came a harder trial than merely sitting at a. tea table and acting as if she were at home there. Sir Richard, anxious to please her, gave her his arm as they rose from the table. and led her into the little gallery where he had sat. that night awaiting her coming. With a pleased smile on his face he led lu-r from picture to picture, with- out. making any comment. on any of them, and she got the idea, some- how, that an ordeal was being pre- purml for her. and she was on the alert to meet. it, whatever it might be. It came. but. it was difl’erent (rum anything she had foreseen, and it nt‘urly betrayed her. Re: her {ind is taken to Hartleigh Hall by Guy. I! the ï¬rst. fear that. he would ï¬nd his daughtet such a one as he must. be ashamed of, ever occurred to Sir Richard, it was only to be dismissed with a. smile and an increased won- der that. she. who had lived as she He could not keep his eyes from her, but watched her as she presided at the table with all the grace and nonchalancc of one who has done the same thing so often as to be uncon- scious oi the details of her move- ments. And yet Maida Carringlord was acting as she never before had acted, recalling the many bits of “business" with which she had tak- en the part 0! the lady on the stage. had, could accommodate herself to her new situation, with an case which no one could have surpassed. The portraits had not interested her. and she had given them but scant attention. so that when Sir Richard stopped in {ront of the picture of his wife, she was not even looking at it. He saw that she was thinking of other things, and gently called her by name: ‘ ‘ Constance! ' ' “Father!" and she looked at him, and then. following his glance, turn- ed her eyes on the face in the por- trait. A look of startled horror crept in- to her eyes, and she shrunk back, murmuring: “No! no!" The last time she had seen that face was in the dim light of a gray morning. after which she had taken from her that which was to aid her in robbing her of her birthright. Yes she was dead. and she had said she might have the little book, but was it not a betrayal of the gentle. lov- ing girl's trust? She covered her face with her hands. and moaned softly to herself. Sir Richard was alarmed at. the ef- fect. o! the picture on his daughter. and exclaimed, in an agony of self~ reproach: “My darling. what. have I done? It was wrong to bring you to your mother without a word of warning; but I thought only of surprise." “Yes, yes!" she murmured. “Forgive me. will you not?" "It, is unnecessary." “I have always kept it covered by the doors. but. it is yours now, and I brought. you here to give you the key." so much feeling and emotion. Ha uecution was marvellous, and show- ed carelul training, but. her uproo- slonâ€"whlch is to music what. tho soul is to the heap-proved her a She loved music and could ï¬nd in it a solace for her troubles when everything else failed, and so. as she sat there now. she forgot those who were in the room with her, and in- stinctively drilted into one of those wonderful songo without words into which the gifted Mendelssohn poged He took a little golden key Irom his pocket and put it. into her listless hand. She took it, mechanically, and then. recovering herself by de- grees. lilted her eyes steadily and gazed full into the calm. sweet eye of the woman whose child she was wrongly pretending to be. The eyes seemed to look back into hers with a pitying glance. and it seemed to her that if she had to see that face ---v night." he said soiicitousiy. "1 am not too tired," she answer- ed. and, without another word. she sat down at the piano and ran her ï¬ngers over the keys to try them. betraying. as she did so. a thorough familiarity with the instrument. ller father led her away. blaming himself for this want of tact. and not until they were in the drawing- room again did she venture to look at Buy. He was regarding her in- tently. but he blushed. and dropped his eyes like a. schoolboy when he found himself observed. She did not believe he suspected her. but the thought that she was under observa- tion gave her the self-control she needed. and she turned to her father and said: , “Are you fond of music?†“Very. Do you play?" “Do you like any particular thing? Have you a. favorite?" n . I__- Aâ€" one!) she self. "My mother!†she made horse]! say. and then, with a. deep-drawn breath. walked to the picture. and, closing the doors, locked them. Then she put the key in her bosom. and whispered. “Let. us go away." CHAPTER V1. would surely betray her- stood en- How little either suspected that the doting father's words were true in a sense neither thought of. Yes, she had been accustomed to having the world at her feet, and more than once that evening she had thought. with a bitter sense of humor, how she was merely practising on a small audience -what she had been used to doing on a large one. “Too much; I am afraid," was the almost. inaudib!c reply. “You do not mean"â€"the old man turned pale with a. sudden fearâ€" “thut. there is a more favored one than yourself?" “She is not happy. Guy. We will make her so if there is power in love, You will help me Guy?" “Have you told her. Guy. what is the dearest wish of my heart?" “You mean ’ ’ He hesitated. “I mean your marriage." “How could 1?" “True." assented Sir Richard, with a light laugh, “it would not have come with very good grace from you, would it? I am not mistaken in the symptoms, am I, Guyâ€"you love her, do you not?" “I do not, think we need to {car that. She told me there was no one in the world to regret. her since her mother died." arm. and there were tears in his eyes} as he said: “There is nothing I would not do to make Constance happy,’ returned the young man. with a singular fer- vor. The older man looked at. him with a smile of comprehension and plea- sure. “Could anyone help loving her." he asked proudly. Guy assented to his uncle’s words with another sigh, which this time did not escape the old man’s notice. He turned quickly, and asked: "Her mother? Has she said much to you about, her mother?" “Is she not? Why did you not. tell me she was beautiful and accomplish- cd?â€"so different from what I had every reason to fear she might, be. Blood will tell, Guy. Why, she bears herself as if she had been accustomed to having the whole world at. her feet." “Very little. Nothing of her own accord. She told me of her life and all that was necessary to establish her identity. and then begged me to say as little as might be. You saw how deeply affected she was by the sight of her mother just now." “She is'vcry beautiful," was the answer, accompanied by a sigh. “They must. have suffered. And she has locked the picture into dark- ness again. Well, it, is best. It will be the burial of the past. I can never do enough for her Guy." “Guy." he said a moment later, “do not tell me for a few days any- thing about her past life. I would enjoy her as she is without any thought of the past it I can." (luy answered by a sympathetic glance and crossed lightly to the piano, where, unnoticed by Maida, he stood and watched her with ad- miration and longing. Presently she became aware of his presence and looked swiftly up. catching his glance and interpreting it. An in- describable air, in which pity and coldness were mingled, came over her in an instant, and, ceasing the pa- thetic thing she was playing. she changed the tune and broke into a gay aria from one 01 the popular operas. The thought. of the dreary past overcame the old man, and he sank into a chair. and with downcast eyes rested his head on his hand. ed up gayly and began to nod his head in appreciative time to the music. He arose and went over to her side, and when she stopped, said, enthusiastically: "You play and sing divinely." “I am glad it you are pleased." “More than rile-died. luy! He was here a moment ago." Guy turned away moodily for he had noticed the en'oct. of his presence on his cousin, but. the old man look- “He has stepped out. on the veran- duh.†“IIe wished to smoke. I suppose Constance. how do you like Guy?" “I am glad to hear you say that,†he said. “Guy is all that you say, and I am glad that youâ€"youâ€"like him. Be- fore you were found. and when we fearedâ€"~. You will forgive me for what I am about to say. will you not?†“He is handsome. good and noble. A true man. 1 should say.†The old man smiled in a pleased way and stroked the dark hair. “Why? It seems to me nobody could say less of Guy.†She turned a little pale. but. an- swered steadily that she would. “I will not speak of it now, when you have just returned home. but that it seems better to have it un- derstood at once. Besides, you know Guy, and it is not as if he were a stranger to you," -â€"but if there is no obstacle, could you look forward to being his wife. Remember, my darling, that your will shall be the 13'. I! you have engaged your heart elsewhere, or it for any reason you would rather not have it so. you need tear no opposi- “Before you were found, and when' it seemed as it you could not be what' â€"what you are, we had formed a' little plan. I could not have hoped' that you were so beautiful, so ï¬t. to: grace the throne of a queen if neces- sary; and then we had arrangedâ€" Guy and Iâ€"that he would insure your proper reception by the world, by marrying you. And now that you are what you areâ€"I am afraid I do not express myself as I should She seemed to comprehend what. was coming, but she only looked ex- pectantly at her tather, and he went, “In time, of course,†agreed the delighted old man, “in time. You must. have a life full of happiness ï¬rst. Ah, here is Guy. Is it. a. ï¬ne night. Guy?" “I do not need to consider it. Something told me that you had this at heart. I know of no reason why I should not be his wife-in time." “The Hall, with a. small estate, and the title, will be mine in any cascf’ “Nothing that affects me. Your father's wealth. of which there is a great deal, will be lost to me; but I hope I do not need to assure you that I am only too glad to lose it under the circumstances." “I know you are generous." “I am not generous in this," he answered. “Ilow so?" she demanded quickly. “The happiness of pleasing you overshadows every other feeling. I am rewarded for any loss by the feeling that you have gained some- thing thereby." “I do not, know how it was said, Constance," he replied, sadly. “I only know that. I would give title, estate, and all if I could but please you.†~- She turned away again, and said, coldly: “Hartleigh Hall is very beautiful." “Very," he answered. “If I had not. been found would there have been any dill‘erence to you?†“But my coming will make some difference to you?" “I wish you did want them," he said, quickly, and then. as she did not ask him why. as he had expected he went, on. “because they are inse- parable from me." “It could not be more beautiful. If you Would like to see an English night at. its best. Consta’nco, you would be wise to come out here.†Glad of any diversion, she ex- pressed her readiness, and started for the window, and would have gone out had not her father laughingly detained her until he could wrap something about her, saying: For some minutes no word was spoken between the cousins. Con- stance was gazing out across the lawn, seemingly watching the {lit- ting moon shadows as they chased each other across the trechtops. Guy was watching her. It was enjoy- ment enough for him. Suddenly, as was so often the case, she became conscious that he was looking at her and she turned quickly toward him and said: “Why do you look at me so much?" “I have seen poor little children looking in at a jeweler's window, longing for the diamonds there." “The night may be be'aui'itul, but it is none the less treacherous." “Beauty and treachery do some- times go together," she said, as if thinking aloud. And then she step- ped through the Window and stood alone in the moonlight with the man she had said she would marry, “That is 7 very nicely said," was her only comment, made in a chil- ling tone. She affected to misunderstand him, and said, lightly: “But I do not want the title, nor the estate." "I “nope you have not caught cold," exclaimed her father. who had over- heard her last words,. as she stepped through the window. “Then of course. I could not want them. Let us go in. How cool your nights are." The old man flushed at the words, as if feeling that they carried a re- preach to him, but with touching humility said nothing that would in- dicate it. “Oh, no. I am not so delicate. I am used to exposure. " “You must be tired," he said “Sh_all_wc not saygood-night?†“Perhaps it wovula be be‘iter," she answered. "I hope you will have sweet dreams and refreshing sleep the ï¬rst night, of your return home," he said, gently, as he took her hand and kis- sed it. I-Ier demeanor had been studiously cold, but at this act a struggle seem- ed to take place in her breast. She had already taken a step to leave him. but she suddenly turned, and putting both hands on his shoulders kissed him on the lips. He caught her in his arms and murmured brok- only: She left them and went to her own chamberâ€"a perfect gem which Sir Richard had ï¬tted up with all the luxury wealth and good taste could command. Her maid awaited her, and conducted her into the dressing- room where she assisted her to re- move her garments. No one would have supposed, to see her then, that she had ever disrobed without a maid, she submitted herself to her oflices so naturally. But she dismissed her maid as soon as she could and then locked herself in with a sigh of relief. She threw herself into an easy cushioned chair. and knitted her brows in deep and troubled thought. Alone there, with no fear of prying eyes to sur- prise her thoughts on her face, she gave way to her _f_eelings. “My daughter! my daughter! how good you are to me!" Neither Sir Richard nor Guy un- derstood what she meant then; they thought it was merely the cry of a forlorn heart; but in times after they remembered it and understood better. “I wish I could be," she cried; “for, oh! you ue my father.†- All of her past life. “Tom the night her mother died. seemed to have lost {tselt in g. strange distance of time. It seemed so ‘7er long ago, But. CHAPTER VII._ every incident of that time was as clear to her as if it had been burned into her memory.. She could see her mother dying and vengeful; the words of her promise to the dying woman were before her eyes in blazing let- ters of ï¬re. Then she saw her sister, with the sweet face upturned to hea- ven, rigid in death; then herself flee- ing from her. There ended her hap- piness. Since then she had been liv- ing a life full of falseness and wrong. The Sale of the King's Horses at Wolferton: A Tandem Pair. "Oh, mother, mother!" she wailed. “how could you blight my life with the wrongs of your own? If you knew how gentle and good the old man is, could you have made me promise as I did? If you had known how true and generous Guy is could you have wished me to deceive him as I must? And yet"â€"she started from the chair and clenched her handsâ€"“is it not justice after all? Is not his atonement for the other woman, and not a particle of it for the poor. wronged outcastâ€"made so by his actâ€"and never even re- membered? I must look at it so. Oh, mother, mother, I must think of that or 1 shall falter! The poor old man! ' ' :uy came in, with the flush of ex- ercise on his cheeks, and looking as handsome as any Woman could de- sire. He greeted his cousin with some embarrassment. and put his uncle’s mail by his plate. Then he sat, down in an easy chair and asked permission of his cousin to read his papers. She gave it with so gracious an air that he sighed soft- ly and looked wistfully at her, whereupon she seemed annoyed, and turned to her father to ask if he would have both cream and sugar in his coffee. King Edward VII., as is well known, is, and has been for many years, an enthusiastic breeder of horses and stock. With the care taken in their selection it is not to be wondered at therefore that much interest is taken by horse dealers of the best class and the horse-loving A quick flush, followed by a. dead- ly pallor, showed on the fair face, but she answered steadily: “Never." “Ilere’s bad news.†suddenly ex- claimed Guy, without looking up from his paper. “Do you remember that Maida Carringford, who made such a sensation in California and was to have come to London?" Sir Richard answered yes, but Maida only put down the cup she was holding, and listened with a set face. Guy continued: She threw herself on the bed and wept fierce. bitter tears. Some of them were for herself and some were for Guy; but most of them were for the old man. who, whatever his sins, was her father. After a while she arose and dried her tears, and with a reaction of bitter scorn hated her- self for the unworthy part she was playing. long' “Not at all. I always breakfast late, and Guy is always early. He has been out for a gallop or a row on the lake. Here he is now, and he has the mail with him." ---w “ï¬guvxvï¬ust not trouble yourself, my dear," he answered. “EV uuua , uu w.†n ~. v... “But it. will be only a. pleasure." she said, as she took her seat. at the table and arranged the cups. “Wil. you not drink a cup of coflee, Guy?" “Thank you, no." Sir Richard looked around at his nephew, and said, Alaughingly: And 30, torn between her emotions, she mechanically extinguished her lamp and retired to her luxurious couch to fall into a. slumber which lasted until late the next morning. Sir Richard was waiting for her when she went down stairs, and she kissed him with such an air of ten- derness that be flushed with joy. “Guy wants nothing now, but to be allowed to read his theatrical news. He is ,daft on the d: ama, Constance. " “I am so sorry to be so late." she said. “Have I kept you waiting “Not quite as bad as that. uncle." remonstrated Guy. “I am fond of the theatre though." “And still fonder of amateur the- atricals. Have you ever acted, Constance? I mean on the amateur stage?" and the old man looked smilingly at his daughter. “It seems that she was killed in an attack on an overland stage in which she was traveling. Why, Con- stance. it must have been about the â€"oh! What is it?" It was nothing very much. Con- stance had let. a cup of hot coffee {all on the floor and had scalded herâ€" self a very little. She was ashamed to have cried out. No, she was not really scalded after all. She was a great deal more frightened than hurt. She contrived, however, to prevent any further talk about Maida Car- ringtord, and the subject was not taken up again. She smiled faintly. by way of an- swer, for she had not e} recovered from the shock of t e memories which Guy' 8 words had recalled to “You are looking pale, my dear," said Sir Richard, suddenly. her. wâ€"vâ€" â€" “She must have outdoor exercise. Guy. It won't. do to have her look- ing palef†_ - - A I o. “ GJfélanccd keenly at her and ac- quiggced Witt} his unclq. ' A _A__2-_ “We must have a pair of ponies for her. Guy. You must go down to the city at the ï¬rst opportunity .90) V v.. o i The enemy naturally uses his fresh-' .fest troops to cover his retreat. and 'his cavalry and horse-artillery are: fprepared to give trouble. The pur-‘ 'suing general, whenever he comes up with the flying foe. hammers him iWith guns and charges him with 'cavalry. He hits him in the flanks‘ git possible. so as to retard him while 5the infantry can come up and {all tupon him. Reserves of infantry (it i mny) will at this juncture naturally ‘be used, so as to spare the (out al-| iready tired with a long day's light-I “You will have u trying ordeal to pass through during the coming few days for all the county will call upon you, " he said. “and you must. not be worn out. If you could only ride horseback. now. " “Oh, you must. not be worried about me. If I am pale it is only for the moment. and proves what a foolish girl I am more than anything else." “I can do that, if it will please you." she said. “Oh, then, if you can ride, it will be all right. until we can get the ponies for you. Is there a, horse in the stables she can ride, Guy?" stance, will you ride?" “Anything to please you." “But. I. want you to please your- self.†Exactly What to Do When Your Enemy Has Had Enough. The rule in warfare when your (-11- omy has had enough. and signiï¬es the same in the usual manner by running away. in to give him some more. The wise general gives his beaten enemy no rest. but. continues to push and hammer him until a. Vnnqulshed army retreating in good order be- comes a broken and disorganized mob of men with rifles. Every consideration gives way to following up the enemy. Having won a battle. every great general makes the most of it. and gives the beaten enemy no time to breathe. The excuse that the men are tired. or that there are wounded to look after. condemns the general who uses it as incompetent to command. “" The stat! has a busy time in par- suits, for the pursuing army has to be fed, and the enemy nntumiiy burns and destroys all behind him in his retreat. Moreover. every hour takes the pursuers further away from their base. Thus the men who are responsible for the feeding of the‘ army must be well up in their work,‘ unless disaster is to occur, 4 Sir Richard shook his head in lov- ing dissenting dissent. for he would not have this wonderful daughter of his take the slightest. risk. are not so important in such work. To hammer and annoy and harass the flying foe till he is Guy looked quickly at his cousin. a bright flush mounting to his cheeks. and there was a world of meaning in the blue eyes that met her brown ones. This part of the work is done by the mounted men, and the general who fritters away his cavalry during an action instead of keeping them fresh for the pursuit should be shot. Arrangements for pursuing the en- emy are begun the moment he gives tokens of having had enough. The chief of the stat! details the troops to take each road by which the m- emy can retreatâ€"details of each hav- ing. of course, been ascertained be- forehand through the Intelligence Departmentâ€"and indicates to the generals in command of each column their line of route. FINALLY CRUSHED is the object of pursuit. and the cavalry leader who errs on the side of recklessness rather than that of caution is to be selected. public generally on the occasion of the sale of any portion of His Majes- ty’s stud. As can well be imagin- ed, there is active competition at these sales and the bidding is al- Ways brisk, ‘long' prices being in- Variably realized. “Scamp is safe, and as spry a. lit- tle horse as ever trod turf." “What do you say then. Con- The general who can combine dur- ing and dash with adroitness is the man to command a, pursuing column. Caution and ability to manoeuvre “I like nothing better than a good gallop, and only ask that vou will not select for me too tame a horse." and get them for her. Have you any choice for color, Constance?" “I see we shall have to watch her Guy. She is disposed to be reck- less." And the old man glanced at his beautiful daughter with so much pride and affection that she arose with a sudden impulse and went, around to him and kissed his fore- head, saying: “You will spoil me." “We can't. spoil you,’ answered he fondly, “but we will do all that love can to make you happy, won’t we. Guy?" Constance flushed slightly. as she: caught the glance, and then, with‘ that strange coldness which had so: often repelled him, walked to the' window and looked out. HOW TO PUBSUE. To be Continued. .‘ The decision of the War Ofï¬ce to ’send ’nearly a thousand Volunteer icyclists to the front is a striking instance of prejudice overcome. Fit- teen years ago the idea of a military cyclist was treated with mild deri- Ysion. Now. however. there are from â€0,000 to 15,000 Volunteer cyclists in Great Britain; at the beginning of 1898 they only numbered 3.400. It Us interesting to notice that other countries are beginning to regard the bicycle as a serious item in modern warfare. The French Minister of War has decided that two companies oi regular soldier cyclists shall be termed, I The new Sultan being only 13 years of age, a regent was necessary, {and Ben Mussa 111s appointed, with Kaid Mau'lvan's influence. power, and hand behind him. Any incipient. op- position which broke out was sup- pressed with a strong hand, as all i risings of the tribes have been. and ‘notably that of the Misï¬wa tribe a .few years 111:“. 'i‘«: 11111-1'11111. if possi- 'ble, the recurrence of such incidents. the heads of fifty prominent Misiiwa tribesmen ï¬gure on spikes over the ‘cit3' gates of the port of Rabat. and a similar number .1do1 ned the gates *ut I10z.Maclea.n always leads the l punitive expeditions l1in1self,and has “thus seen 111111111 111.111 1.111.1111g. 0n ,1 the death of Ben Mussa last \11111 i the Sultan took up the reins of (:m- ernn1ent, Kaid 1111111101111 still retain- 1ing his predominant influence. i The Moo1ish con11111111dcrâ€"in-chi11f, 1by long residenm in Morocco. I111? now become 11"Mom of the Moors" He is sun darkened and swmthy in complexion. and “ears the pictun-s- 1 que costume oi the n.1t1111 Kaid llis p1rotr1cted absence {10m his native countiv has been broken by pe1iodi- cal visits to Scotland, and the mu- !sic of the barbaric war slogan of the 3Gael. the bagpipes, of which he is 1 much enamored, is appreciated quite 'as much among the Moroccan moun- tains as among the Bens of the Highlands, the Kaid having succeed- {ed in introducing the instrument to l his adopted country; the young Sul- itan, indeed, enjoys the skirling of the pipes as thoroughly as the High- land clan stories which his cum- mander-in-chiel‘ can tell with genuine Celtic fervor and humor. The Kaid, whose full name is Har- by long residence in Morocco, has 11.0.. and is 51 years of age. lie is married and has three daughters and one son living. At Fez and Mara- kesh the family live in palaces of Oriental magnificence. The army over which this intrepid Scolsman is the cominander-in-Chiei' comprises about 20,000 men. and is equipped with European rifles. Kud Man, Commander-in- Chiot o! the Sultan of Horac- eo's Troops. The Commander-i n-Chiof of the‘ Hoorish army. Kaid unclean. now accompanying the Moorish mission to the King, is a Scotsman who has been {or twenty-three years in llo-' rocco. He is a member oi the High- land clan of Maclean, which in by- gone days took part in many feuds and Lowland forays. Entering the British army some thirty years ago. he saw ï¬ghting during the Red River expedition. When Mulai Nassau. the Sultan of Morocco, decided to reor- ganize his army, he applied to Eng- land for a drillâ€"master, and Kaid Maclean received the appointment. Soon after his arrival among the Moors he won the Sultan's conï¬- dence, and became not only the Com- mander-inâ€"Chief of the Shereiinn Ar- The Sultan's brother was ready to seize the throne, but as Kaid Mac- lean and Ben Mussa were the only persons present when the Sultan died within two days’ march from Marakesh. they had the body con- veyed secretly to that city, where they announced the death. and had M‘ulai Hassan's son, Abdel-Aziz pro- claimed in his stead, and a slight outbreak was quickly suppressed by Mulean's admirably disciplined sol- diers. According to a scale of value fur- nished by the miners' unions and miners" accident insurance companies of Germany. the loss of both hands is valued at 100 per cent.. or the whole ability to earn a living. Los- ing the right hand depreciatcs the value of an individual as a Worker 70 to 80 per cent.. while the loss of the left hand represents from 60 to 70 per cent. of the earnings of both hands. The thumb is reckoned to be worth from 20 to 30 per cent. of the earnings. The ï¬rst finger of the right hand is valued at from 14 to 18 per cent.. that of the left hand at from 8 to 13} per cent. Mrs. Cheeseman. arrayed in her best gown. was sitting for her photo- grgph. J â€"__ ---n :n .1 Your expressionâ€"pardon meâ€"is a trifle too severe. said the photo- grapher, looking at her over his camera. Relax the features a trifle. A little more, please. Vait a mo- meat. _|: _.|-‘ I V‘Tutvo Now. then. Ready. Beg pardonâ€" the expression is still a little too stern. Relax the features a trifle. A little more, please. Direct your gaze at. the card on this upright post. All ready. One moment. againâ€"pardon me. the expression is still too severe. Relax tho-â€" Jemima ! roared M r. coming out from bchind the screen and glaring at. her savagely; smile. confound you! Smiie. my. but the trusted adviser of the late ruler. He reorganized the army and his during deeds in battle im- pressed the natives so much that he practirnlly held the nomination to the throne on the death of Mulai Hassan, although the Grand Vizier. Ahmed Ben Mussa, also possessed much influence. DID MRS. CHEESEMAN SMILE? â€vâ€-- Hc came back. made a slight change in the adjustment of the lwad rest. then stood at! and inspected the result. VALUATION MILITA RY CYCLIS'I‘S mr SCOTS HEI- MARY. V' OF LOST LIMBS‘ He Was l't}lt}':.~.cd tht day, but not ‘bt'fOl‘C his mmw “us in all the pu- ‘pcrs. “'ithuut dvluy he brought out. In new clump miitiun of â€l’rugrcu fund l’ovorty" in London. The ;'l‘imcs gave a whole page to it, and 3 the entire edition mmt at! in twvuty- ‘four hours. Its author (lvarod ;thousands. and bvcumc the must- tulked-uf-maul nf UH' yvur. . A mouse-hunt. Draught. furtunc to ;a l’urisiun murkc-t woman named Juquvs Sh“ vspimi tlw tiny t'l‘c tzm' under thv urutu in hvr Imaging ‘ hut whmi Silt: tru-ti tu catch it it. di aijiywairmi in n (‘rnrh m thv hric ‘\\'urk. She) pulhut away at loo ihundlc uf duMy punt-rs. 'l‘hvy prov 'od tn luv intuit-“01cm to the Value $58,000. Hy l"r<‘m:h law shr- ma claim the whnlv amount in at you!" timv if no mm 0181: ram prove. titlc. Sewing: thut. thv huh-s many years uh! it is \vry mwrnba. blv thut. guiytmc “'1†ever make. ‘ claim. FORTUNES [ADE I] A near the road. He ran across to try to catch the creature. but it Was bo- ynnd his reach. Then he noticed some blue stones lying at the mouth? of the hole. He picked a few up an‘, took them home. They proved to ho: blue sapphires, equal to the very {in-1; eat Oriental stones. Connium't chance (ind has made him a rich man already. and he will probably be a millionaire within a Very few years. Almost equally startling Was tho rise of Maxmilian Darun. twenty years ago a clerk in the City of Mo:- ico on 8750 a year. He saved a. lit/- tle from his small salary and went into business as a moneyâ€"lender. Taking over a supposedly worthine- mine for a bad debt. he tested tll.‘ workings, and discovered the great: El Promentario silver lead. which; now gives him the comfortable ill-1 come of $600, 000 a year. A Poor Cotton Spinner'o Luca Fortunate Result of o Iona. Eat. In those days 0! wild gambling c the Stock Exchange it in quite com mon to hear 0! lucky speculum: gearing thousands in a day. Bl â€STANCES WHERE PAW RAVE BECOIE RICH. Here is another instance of w at ï¬rst appeared n disaster multl in money and fame. Henry Georgy, the writer of "Progress and Po crty." was sent, to' Ireland' dur the Fenian agitation as special co respondent of a New York paper At that time George was an known mun. and his book equal so. although it had been publis for several years. Hardly had t correspondent landed belore he WI. arrested at Loughreu as a sun] and lodged in mm]. the romance 01 the sunk Exclungo‘ is a. sordid thing compared with the extraordinary accidents which every now and then turn a pauper into s millionaire, as if by the wave of mggic wand, says London Anew There is a, tendency now to abhud viabe the spelling of the (min borough hat to Gainsboro'. sai‘ Sudtiénly he noticed a hanger din-i appear into _a hflllow under a tank" Take, for ins'tance. the calf. cit. lunchestcr cotton-spinner who In wor_kod fund for years {or 87.50 week. lle had the misfortune day in 1897 to be .wldentfl poisoned with acetic acid. Re to it appears. enough to kill three dinary men, yet did not die. and remarkable was the case consi that a well-known doctor wrote to London paper on the subject. letter W“ copied into an Austral journal, and there seen by the m ton-spinner’s brother, who had em“ grated when young. made money' and quite lost sight of the rest his imnily. He came back to Eng: land, looked up his brother. and when he died last your left him 890.; saved nearly forty-seven years new“ was dead. and had left him owner at nearly $100,000 a year. including cl- tutes in France. the West indies. England and Australia. Mines haw: given many men sudden fortunes. but only us u ':-.:e after long years of toll. l-‘ew have [M luck of George Cormican. an lrilh seawater, who went to America some three years ago, and got work on ‘ cattle ranch in Montana. He. w†coming across the plains with N. wagon one day last autumn wnen liq stopped to give his tired mules .-1 few minutes' rest. : Ilrl. Bunting to Mrs. Porkasic. But it doesn't, reduce the price There are in the World 24 pl‘cS‘" dents and only 20 kings. A gtllon of water weighs 10 [big a gallon of mercury 1.357 lbs. A The eye of an u:edwated w Eyeing“ 2.500 m‘u '1 reading Afterwards he fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She was a widow but she refused, saying she had promised her dead husband never to marry again. But she beg- ged Hawthorne to accept a portion of her income. as. she said. she had more money than she could spend. Hawthorne refused, went to Americn and enlisted in the U. S. Army. lie served in the (‘ivil War in 1864. was mustered out. and has [or some years been an inmate of n sol- diers’ home. A few months ago In. received word that the lady he had saved nearly forty-seven years new“ man dund and had left him owner 0‘ N0 EFFECT THAT WAY. mile out, uuddculy up- " 0n his clothes I]. 5 ins boat wlmmm