T0, S'P'ITE THE MAJOR. BY GW ENDOLEN OVERTON. Army wives generally have unmar- ried sisters. These sisters always come out to visit them, and the rest goes by itself. Mrs. Lorrilard had an unmarried sister. She was very attractive. She was. far more attractive than Mrs Lorrilard ever could have been. Th3 girl’s name was Spencer—May Spencer She was eighteen years old, if you took her word for it; and she was blonde and pink and white and plump. She came from some place in Ohio, and she visited the Lorrilards at Stan- ton—which is in New Mexico, one hundred miles from the railroad across Dead Man’s valley (there is always a. Dead Man’s valley) and some steep hills and a lava bed a mile wide. If you have never seen a lava bed, you cannot appreciate that. You might try to imagine the ocean lashed into fury by a simoon, then fancy its great waves and billows and swells changed suddenly to dark gray-brown stone at the height of the storm, and you may form a vague idea of what the lava bed between Fort Stanton and the railroad is like. ’ It frightened‘Miss Spencer badly. The ambulance went slipping and slid- ing and coasting and thumping and bounding over the one passable part, in a way that only an ambulance con- ducted by a driver who has spent his life on Arizona and New Mexico roads could possibly stand. Miss Spencer was not accustomed to that sort of thing. She stood it as long as she could, and then she told Major Roche—in whose charge she was travelling—that she meant to get out and walk. She had bothered the major a good deal already, and he was getting tired, so he did not say anything, but simply told the driver to “slow up” and let Miss Spencer get out by herself. ' She, fell behind after a moment and the ambulance went relentlessly on, creaking, flapping its canvas, clanking its chains, its brake screech- ing shrillv. And as it disappeared, sometimes lost to sight in a great hol— low, sometimes toiling up a smooth face of lava. Miss Spencer felt her- self abandoned, indeed in a New Mexi- co desert, under that terrible midsum- mer sun. The heat was fiery, scorch- ing, parching. The sky was like hot blueglass. She wondered why, when the lava.was hot enough to burn her feet through the soles of her shoes, it-did not melt or grow soft. She kept on walking because she was afraid to stop. She reached the end of the huge rock river at last and found the ambu- lance waiting. The driver was asleep and the major was drinking water. He offered her some, and when she had drunk it she held out her broad little foot. “My shoes are all cut to pieces, and they were new and awfully heavy.” “You should have kept still,” he an- swered. Now Miss Spencer wanted sympa- thy, and when she didn’t get it she took a dislike to the major; and be— cause she disliked him she eventually made him sorry. For the fiirst fortnight of her visit she was not pretty. She was sun burned from her passage of the lava sea. Her face was red and swollen, then blotchy and lastly peely. After that she returned to the normal pink and white. She was the only girl at the post, and-there was a bachelor, a. brevet-bachelor, a young contract surgedn, and Major Roche’s son. The bachelor offiicer was studious He had no time for young women. He paid his one call and retired. The brevet-hachelor is peculiar to the ser- vice. His wife is back East, visiting her family. He differs from the real article only in that he is inelligible. He was devoted to Miss Spencer, but he did not count. There was also the contract surgeon. Of course he was only a contract surgeon. Still he was tall and blonde and had a beguiling drawl. He fell in love with Miss Spencer. But the exciting part of the story hinges on Major Roche’s son. He was twenty, and he was no use on earth. He was just a boy and never would be anything more. He had failed in everything he had ever undertaken, He couldn’t even dance, and he was afraid of a three-foot acequia when he rode. He depended upon his papa for everything, and he thought he knew women through and through. Prob- ably Providence sent Miss Spencer to show him that he didn’t—but the ways of Providence are inscrutable, and I can’t be sure. Well, the contract surgeon fell in love with Miss Spencer, but, like Vio- la, he never told his love. His name was Randolph—Curtis Randolph, to match his nice blue eyes and his charming drawl. His courtship was of the eternally-on-hand sort. The life of a garrison offers even greater advantages for this than that of a southern town. He was with Miss Spencer from guard—mounting until long after taps. But Miss Spencer pined to see more of him. "Mr. Randolph, I believe you’re lazy.“ “Oh! now—Miss May—why? That isn’t kind.” He gazed at the flag on the flag-staff tenderly and dwelt musi- cally on each word. “Because.” “It is the privilege of a lady to give that reason.” His eyes sought the tennis court in tender, blue abstract— edness. “Well, I know you are.” “VVon’t you have pity on me and tell 'me why?” . “Because you never are up until al- most guard-mount." “Oh, dear! yes I am. I go ovc" * the hospital at sick-call, you ..;:-.:*.'~' ' ’boarding two hungry young "Why don’t I ever see you, then?" “Perhaps you haven’t risen your- ' “i‘m always up at reveille." “No! Goodness; why on earth do you do that?” “I believe you go over to the hospi- tal the back way and aren’t half awake and don’t even have’a collar on." “Now, Miss May—how unkind." “Isn’t it true?” “I always have my collar on.’ He told a future‘ truth. After this he would wear a collar. “I hate lazy people.” “Oh! Miss May—how unkind. You don’t hate me, I hope.” His eyes were on the pink ribbon that fluttered from her belt; he took hold of it and wound it around his finger, get- ting graudually nearer to her. “I do, if you are lazy." “How can I prove to you that I am not?” “That’s easy enough.” “Do tell me how?” “Just prove it.” “By rising early and letting you see me?” “Well—yes.” “I shall do so to-morrow.” “But I always go for a. ride before breakfast.” “May I not join you?” “If you like. I don’t care.” Which is feminine for caring. very much in- deed. So Dr. Randolph rode with Miss Spencer the next morning, and he breakfasted at the Lorrilard’s, and he sat on the Lorrilard’s porch to watch guard-mounting, and then he played tennis with Miss Spencer, and when it was too hot to do that any longer, they sat together on the porch again, shaded by the crowsfoot and morning- glory vines and read aloud by turns. They parted for luncheon, but im- mediately afterward they met again in the Lorrilard’s sitting—room to prac- tice the mandolin and guitar. Ran- doi'ph dined with the Lorrilards, and then he and Miss Spencer walked up and down the line until taps, and af- ter taps they sat on the porch once more and talked in undertones. Occasionally the Roche boy made a third, and though he was far from welcome, he never guessed it. Now it may seem incredible, but it Is true, that though this went on with- out a pause for ten solid months, Ran- dolph still modestly doubted if he were loved and dared not voice his passion. Mrs. Lorrilard began to think that she had done quite all that the family could expect of her, and she grew hopeless and weary, moreover, of people. She told Miss Spencer as gently as possible that she might go the next time the ambulance went over to Carthage, which was the railroad sta- tion. Miss Spencer told Randolph she was going—and wept. And Randolph consoled her from afar, and actually thought she was weeping at leaving her little nephew and niece and her sister. There are men like that. The ambulance went a week later to carry Major Roche and Teddy Roche to the railroad. Teddy was of- fered a position at Tucson and was go- ing to take it; the major had govern- ment business at Carthage. The Carthage road is a branch; it joins the main line of the A. T. and S. F. at a station called San Antonio. The ma- jor would chaperon the young woman to Carthage; thence she would go to the main line and East and Teddy to the main line and West. Only Teddy and May compromised. They both went to Socorro, which is on the main line, a very little northeast of San An- tonio. The contract doctor and Miss Spencer had a harrowing parting. The latter lost her temper over his pro- crastination and burst into tears. It nearly broke his heart and entirely silenced his tongue. , After she was gone, hopelessly gone, he determined to reveal the secret of his heart by letter. But he put off do- ing it. Instead, he swung in his ham- mock all day and thought of her blue eyes and pretty face and guileless smile and regretted his erstwhile con- stant companion. The ambulance would return, empty of its lovely load, in five days. He knew that. He would write when it returned. So, on the afternoon of the fifth day, he sat, still swinging in the hammock and smoking a pipe, the ashes whereof besprinkled his coat, when the four mules and the ambulance rattled into the post. They stopped at the major’s quarters in'a cloud of dust, and two men and a woman alighted. There Was no doubt about who the Woman was. In his delight Randolph lost his head. He strode down the broad walk to the Roches’. Miss Spencer was still standing by the ambulance, hunting—With the driver’s help—for something under one of the seats. The major and Teddy had gone indoors. “Why, Miss May!" said Randolph, and this time there was no drawl—— “how delightful! What brings you back?” “Oh, my husband. Teddy and I got married in Socorro and joined the dear old major again in Carthage the same day. “How delightful,” Randolph repeat- ed, weakly. “Well, Teddy seems to think so, but the dear, sweet old major didn’t. Any way you know, he was so horrid about my shoes on the bad-lands that day.” She smiled demurely. And that was all any one ever knew about it.—The Argonaut. Oh. the future sky is the bluest sky. “’ith never a c‘nud in View: 7‘" ”-r. F“‘V' Lu ‘ , . .. —' IIU' 512‘; i'v-V “Ir a... . l [WEEKLY - , agely, jumping from his seat and shak- 3 ing cabbage, and played havoc with a THE NATURALIST. CHAPTER I. “Now, Marv. I have spoken!” Mr Peel threw himself back in his chair as if that settled the matter once for all. . “I heard you, dear," sweetly re sponded Mrs. Peel; “and now listen to me. I have accepted Herr Schmidt’s offer, and he will enter the adjoining house as tenant to-morrow.” “Not if I know it, madam!” shouted Phineas, jumping from his chair and bringing his fist down on the table. "Do you think I am to have Rhyd cot- tage turned into a menagerie, and my garden into a howling wilderness. The house may remain tenantless forever. but Herr Schmidt and his monstros- ities shall not enter there.” “Herr Schmidt, my dear, is merely a. naturalist.” “I know it!” stormed Phineas. “I’ve heard of these plaguey naturalists be fore. I’ve no desire to come down stairs some fine morning to find a ring-tailed monkey sitting on the window-sill, acting as referee while the kangaroos and crocodiles play leapfrog over the flower beds. No madam! No naturalists for Phineas Peel.” Pretty Mrs. Peel never allowed her temper to get the better of her. She laughed softly at her husband's fears. and did not alter her determination in the least. “Has it slipped your memory, Phineas,” she asked, “that Rhyd cot- tage is a portion of my property? II I choose to let it to a naturalist—even though he beta foreigner—I am per- fectly justified in doing so,” This was true enough, and Phineas calmed down. “Herr Schmidt’s collection of mon- strosities, as you call it,” went on Mrs. Peel, “probably contains nothing more dangerous than a death’s head moth in a bottle. «Anyhow, I have no intention to disappoint him.” “But I—” “You will treat him with the respect due from one gentleman to another Phineas,” broke in Mrs. Peel. “And now, dear, we’ll dismiss the subject.” Phineas was—though at times he doubted it—a lucky iellow. He car- ried off a young and handsome woman from a host of suitors. Why Marq Morsden had chosen to bestow her hand and fortune on such a plain, every-day scrt of a fellow as the diminutive Phineas Peel was al- ways a mystery to her acquaintances. The wedding was an aeoomplished fact before her relatives had recoverec from the shock caused by the an- nouncement of her engagement. Mary appeared to be happy enough. too. Phineas, taken as a whole, was not a bad sort of a fellow. He was jealous, that was true, but his wife came to regard that as an extra u-ool of his devotion. Had the proposed tenant of Rhyd cottage been an aged, decrepit, broken- down old,man, Phineas would have stretched out the right hand of fellow- ship. But alas! Herr Schmidt was young and handsome—far too hand- some, Phineas thought. “Very well, Mary,” said Phineas taking his hat from the peg and mak- ing for the door; “you have overruled me as usual, and must be prepared for the consequences. In less than a week we shall have the house and garden overrun with every conceivable variety of reptile-from the beastly lizard to the boa constructor.” And Phineas stalked indignantly forth with the merry laughter of his wife ringing in his ears. CHAPTER II. A month or more had passed, and so far, the fears of Phineas had proved to be groundless. Herr Schmidt’s “monstrosities” had been kept well within bounds, and as yet Mr. Peel had not seen so much as a strange cater- pillar in his garden, which never look- ed better. However, he was not happy. He had taken an aversion to the new ten- ant from the first, and would never be satisfied until he had got rid of him. “Confound the fellow," muttered Phineas, one evening as he sat on an upturned bucket behind the peasticks, “he’s prowling about on the other side of the hedge again. Hope he won’t catch sight of me, for I’m about tired of his oily tongue, and eternal smile. Hullo! what the deuce is the meaning of this?” Down the garden path tripped Mrs. Peel. The naturalist was evidently ex- pecting her, and greeted her with a smile that almost bgought,tears into the eyes of the furious Phineas. “Good-evening,” he said. “You vos joost a leetle late!” It was soon evident that this was not the first chat indulged in over the boundary hedge. Though Phineas strained his ears, he could not catch the drift of the conversation. Like a flash, he remembered that Mary had often of late taken a stroll in the gar- den at dusk. Was this the explan- ation? , Phineas had been glaring at the couple from behind the peasticks for ten minutes or so, when he saw his wife take a rosebud from his favorite tree and hand it over the hedge with a charming smile to the delighted i-icri Schmidt. Then, with a pleasant “good-night,” Mrs. Peel tripped light- ly into the house. “You villain!” hissed Phineas, sav- ing his fist after the retreating figure in the next garden. “I’ll pay you out for this.” , The rage of Mr. Peel was something to be remembered. Nothing but blood, he vowed, would obliterate his wrongs But he would be cautious. He would smile and smile, and murder whiie he smiled. Seizing a peastick he tragica- ly buried it in the heart of an unoffend- stately row of sunflowers. I to R w. Atk- ‘- Half an hour later Mary saw him take down a huge old-fashioned duck gun from the hook in the hall. “There's a German vulture in the neighborhood,” he volunteered, im- pressively, “and I’m going to bag him at the first opportunity." However, as nothing short of an earthquake would have induced the .old gun to go off in any circumstances —and Phineas had made assurance doubly sure by dropping in the shot first and the powder afterward—the “vulture” in question was not likely to be seriously damaged, and Mary contented herself with expressing a hOpe that her husband would not hurt himself. On the following evening Phineas took up his old position in the garden, with murder in his heart. Herr Schmidt, however, did not put. in an appearance. After waiting some timt Phineas re-entered the house and reared his duck gun up in the hall in a conspicuous position. He had almost decided to run up to town and consult his brother John, the detective, with a view to having the movements of Herr Schmidt watched, when he was startled by the click of the letter box. A scrap of paper lay on the mat. Picking it up, Phineas glanced at it, turned deadly pale, then hurried into the garden. Scribbled in lead pencil on dirty paper was the following:— “Peel has discovered everything. We have not a moment to lose. and must clear out to-night. The front door is unsafe. Will met you at the back— 10:30 sharp.” CHAPTER III. .1 ’0 There was no signature. “Good gracious!” exclaimed Phineas, after reading the note for the third time. “I’d no idea matters had gone so far. Oh, yes, Mr. Schmidt,” he added, grimly, “I’ll meet you at 10:30 sharp.” , It was about 10:45, and raining heavily. Phineas Peel, seated on a wall overlooking the back of Rhyd cot- tage, with his duck gun laid across his knees, was beginning to feel un- comfortable. “The note said 10130,” he muttered “It must be after that time now. What’s that?” Phineas had caught the sound 01 heavy feet moving cautiously over the gravel. He grasped his gun and peer- ed into the gloom, but could distin- guish nothing. Suddenly he heard voices, evidently at the front of the house. He was about to quit his position under the impression that Herr Schmidt was leaving by the front door, after all, when one of the back windows was cautiously raised, and the lithe form of the naturalist dropped lightly to the ground. Creeping along the side of the wall on which Phineas lay, he presented an excellent mark. Mr. Peel, however, could not bring himself to shoot a man down in cold blood. He would give him a chance. “Stop,.vou scoundrel!” he shouted. The effect of the challenge was scarcely what Phineas had anticipated. Herr Schmidt darted forward and seized the barrel of the gun. He was much the stronger of the two, and Phineas was pulled down from the wall in a twinkling. “Keep your tongue still, you fool,” he hissed, “or I’ll brain you. Now, quick, help me over the wall.” Phineas hesitated, but the threaten- ing attitude of the other induced him to rise. However, he had no intention of giving in. Bracing himself for the efiort, he ex- erted all his strength, ‘ and pulled Schmidt bodily from. the wall. He fell'fiat on'his face, and before he could recover himself, Phineas jump- ed on his back and seized him round the throat. emitting a yell that would have done infinite credit to a Sioux Indian. The next moment Phineas was drag- ged off from behind, and found himsell in the clutches of a burly member of the local police force. Four or five others seized Schmidt, who struggled in vain to free himself. “What am I arrested for?” gasped Phineas. “There’s your man!” Phineas would no doubt have been led off with the other prisoner but for the timely arrival on the scene of the last person in the world he had expect ed \to see——his brother John! ' “Here, what on earth is the meaning of all this?” he demanded, when, as the result of John Peel's interference, he found himself free. John stayed behind a minute c: we to explain that Herr Schmidt, the “naturalist,” and Edward Harper—the notorious t‘orger who had defied New Scotland yard for the past six weeks— were one and the same. “It was a smart dodge of Harper’s,” said John Peel, “and he might have got clear away but for that clever wife of yours, Phineas. Mary suspected the man from the first, and supplied me from time to time with valuable in- formation. It is to her entirely that the credit of the capture is due. Tell her I’ll call round and thank her my- self to-morrow. By the by, the gang of which he was the head got wind oi our intentions, and a man was des- patched with a warning. Harper doesn’t appear: to have received it." Then Phineas began to understand things a little more clearly. “I suppose this will be it,” he re- marked, producing the note and hand- ing it to his brother. “You see. the messenger left it at the wrong door. and I—er—I thought I might as well see the fun. For some time after Phineas was: of the opinion that he had made a fool of himself. Lately. however, he has. taken a different view of the in..t':er, and is never tired of relating l..: .v he literally “dropped on” Harper. the .I;- GAZE l A SINGING MOUNTAIN. MUSICAL PERFORMANCES OF ONE OF THE PEAKS OF HAWAII. Said to Be the Ghostly SlIrieks of Dead Warriors Who Plunged From a Preci- pice Near By—The Spot. l’ossesses Many Curiosities. if Hawaii is annexed to this country, the United States will possess a moun- tain that sings. Remarkable as this statement may seem, it is literally a fact. Mt. Tantalus, just outside of Honolulu, can be made to sing any song or run any score in the wholc musical repertoire. The natives at- tribute it all to the ghosts of the de- parted warriors said to inhabit the fastnesses roundabout, but science has found the real explanation. Never- theless, the native attribution is inter- esting, and well worth consideration before the more prosaic~ expLazzation forces itself upon one. Six miles out of Honolulu the pre- cipitious cliffs of Mt. Pali rise 2,000 feet above the sea. About 200 feet up a. ledge which gives a clear drop of more than 1,000 feet. From this comes the name of Pali, or precipice. Here, in ancient Hawaiian history, the great fighting chief, Kamehameha I, penned in the vanquished forces of his arch enemies, Kananipule and Kaiana af- ter forcing them from field to field and crag to crag in a terrible mountain fight. Standing upon this fatal crag, the remnants of the defeated bands, en, and seeing no means of escape, leaped over the precipice. They were dashed to pieces on the rock and debris below. Hundreds lay in that terrible heap of death. To the east of Pali is the mountain called Tantalus. like a dreamland, and even the most staid nature will thrill and be mystified by its sweetness and melancholy. It Is at night time only when the plaintive and strange sounds are heard which fall upon the startled senses like “la- mentations in the wind,” “strange screams of death.” At times they are loud and boisterous, like midnight re- vels, and again they soften into a com- plete wall. These voices which moan and scream and sob about in the night winds are believed by superstitious na- tives to be the spirits of the warriors whose mangled bodies lay at the foot of Pali after that dreadful leap, and whose manes are still unappeased. To destroy this pretty illusion is al- most barbarous. reverently listened to by the Oahu na- tives can be caused by nothing more than the ocean breakers beating on the windward shore, and the plaintiff ca- dence of the calmer surf below, alter- nating with the angry and wilder scolding of the storm above, echoing among the dales and crags of the lofty mountain. The feeling as of the pres- ence of human spirits about you cannot be shaken off, and the weird song of terror as of human voices cannot be hushed nor translated into their sounds by even a strong mind. On a. dark night a sensitive and supersti- tious mind could not endure with com- fort the hideous forebodings of the scene. Now, if two persons whose voices chord should sing from one of the heights it will be found that the moun- tain will catch up the song and take it from cliff to cliff, carrying it on into the distance in one direction and bring-' tag it back in another, until a perfect round is obtained. Then, if the two singers suddenly cease their “feeding” it for quite a long time. The same song is being repeated in all directions, the first part making a complete circle . and being followed by the middle and the last part, which come around later. It might be a few seconds, it might be count the ticks as the chant of their weird air, cut loose from human lungs, reverberates alone through the broken chasms and riven rocks as of spirits caroling their way among the glades and crags of this singing mountain. It is a loug and tedious climb to Tantalus, but once there, the lingering visitor will never regret or forget its romance and the melancholy cadence of its winds. This spot abounds in curiosities. Not far away is a large and strange salt lake. It is completely shut in from the ocean by a circle of hills about 700 feet high, which girdle it. The tide rises and falls in the lake as it does in the big ocean miles away. Though there is no perceptible tunnel or other con- nection with the ocean, these tidal conditions indicate a subteranean chan- nel underneath the mountains to the sea. Great quantities of salt were once made at this lake. That industry is dead now.-—Washington Star. A Very Dishonest Crow. A tame crow belonging to H. D. War- ren, residing near Brockfield, N. Y., was seen one morning leaving the house with a spool of silk in his beak. The crowfiew to a grove not far distant, where it was seen to alight on the top of an old stump several feet above the ground. An investigation resulted in finding concealed in the old stump three or four gold rings, a Chatelaine watch, a bracelet, two studs, a sterling silk link cuff button, some spoons, thimbles, turquoise hairpins and many others small articles, including the spool of. silk, which had been stolen from the house by the crow. The thefts had been credited to tramps.— Philadelphia Ledger. “Did you go into society in Philadel- phia?” “Xcs.” “And how did they kill time there?” “They don't kill it. forger, alias Schmidt, the natt...u... next door. ' ~ IThey just sit' down and wait for it to die a natural death." The top of it is voiced ‘ finding that no quarter would be giV- ' Still, these sounds so i could ”Qt be the case [Kills-i. [HEY ARE NATURAL . MUSICIANS, FOND-DF ENGLISH NAMES. the ennui-en Are Allowed to Visit was: Thbeir Relatives “’hich Goon Far to Civ- llize the Older Imp 0, Who Were Origi- ’ nully One of the mole Cruel Bands. A correspondent of the St. Louis. Globe-Democrat descgibes a recent visit to the lea Indians of Califor- nia as a, revelation in some respects. The writer has known this tribe of Indians on their reservation as a fierce. sullen, obstinate and cruel lot of savages. with a. record second to not even the Apaches for horrible butch-cries of white settlers, and up- speakable barbarities upon their ene- mies in warfare. It was therefore a surprise to see over 150 of the boys and girls of these desert savages come marching into the chapel with, mili- tary precision, dressed in handsome, neat-fitting garments, wearing linen shirts, and with their hair brushed with as much nicety as that of a city Ilude. But the surprise did not end there. When the opening hymn was an. trounced one of the Apache Indian girls that ten months before was run- ning wild on the desert south of the Gila, readily turned to the number, and, handing the writer the book, asked in good English if he would not take part with them. Some of them sing splendidly, and Prof. Hall, the superintendent of the school, says they are natural musicians. Several of the ywnlger ones have learned to play "$31,531” and with the French harp , ’ Will make an average city gem-in amed of himself. Hugh Patton, 93,9 of the monitors, plays the piano y . well, having picked the ac. complish out up without any instruc- tion. This Indian is a peculiarity in [ndian life: Some years ago he had learned the English language and acted as an interpreter from that time till the opening of the school, which be e“ tiered, where he has since re- main%. He discarded his Indian name . d assumed English one, and ina&e three has acquired a good English . lid on. He is of medium size, father dark, but with the appearance of a student. He has rlone much to induce his people to adopt civilization, and is, of course, a warm friend of the school. An advantage here is that the boys and girls are in close proximity to their relatives and friends, and are al- lowed to visit back and forth, which in a foreign school. This is of double advantage, for the educated children visiting their parents, brobhers and sisters tend to raise them in the plane of civilization, and the change on the reservation during the past year is marked. The .boys are allowed to go home two weeks in the summer. and several are allowed to go and assist in planting crops. When they leavethe school they are given their ‘Indihn clothes, but they never fail to return wearing better or at least more expensive clothing than the school furnishes them. At times the Indian boys are allowed to work on the fruit farms adjoining the school, and they are given their : wages to spend as they please. They I song, the mountains will go on singing ‘ ' any of the higher branches a few minutes, for the singer forgets to . usually invest them in clothing, and some of them have expensive suits. They do their work well, and their la- bor is preferred to that of the Mex- lcans. When they are out working this way they not only earn the wa- ges, but they learn to depend upon themselves. This idea of the industrial branch of the school is the conception of Prof. Rich. His theory is that it is impos- sible to take a savage and so educate him in letters and science that he will be able to successfully take hold of in life, 31', in other words, that it is impossi~ ble to make a Greek professor out of a half-naked savage. But he does at. gue that they can be made good citi- zens, able to read and write, and, more than all, to support themselves by filling the soil. After this point is reached they will rise higher them- selves and of their own inclination, until the last instinct of the savage will have disappeared. Charles Kean Capped it. When Charles Kean was playing the part of Richard III., his fearful grimaces in character paralyzed all the other actors with fright, much to his amusement. On one occasion a new man had to take the part of the find who lwoke Richard. When asked. “Who Is there?” he had to say, ”The I, my lord; the village cock hath twice pro. claimed the hour of morn.” But as Kean was making such fearful-flame“ and scowllng at high, the poor fellow forgot his part, and could only steamer, “’Tls. I, my loft], fig 1, my lord; they—the village cock! _'I‘is I, my lord, a???" village cock!" By this time thepe was a decided tit- ter all over the house, and Kean said, “Then why the mischief dc‘m’t you crow?” which, need less to say, brought down the house—Tia Bits. Mrs. lease “’as Rained Into Notice. Mrs. Lease made her first political IpeECh in 1888. The Union Labor party dad a ticket in thefield and she advo- :ated it, first at the home and the fire- Iide and afterward on the stump. She made-her maiden, appearance one rains: light in Wichita. She stopped in a tail, where a meeting was in progre .0 get out of the t, and a neighb . who had heard her talk, called Iii ier to speak. Instantly there was a lemand at over the house and, tremlfi .ing and pale, she was led to the plat- form, where out of the fulnees‘ of her wart, her mouth spake. It was a great night for the Lease family. 0 NS AT SCHOOL.- t‘
Norwalk Chronicler