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. ~w~,WM . , a... '-n:r+gW.w\_ ii «a» m, , THE VICAR’S cox/mus csaérsa XIX. "Look ho ’ she cometh. trilling Ont gs “heart's birddike blissl Men- as a y-morn thrilling “1 h the dew and sunshine: kiss. O O O R dd gosi of her beauty . IIlire’her tugisn cheeks; and her_mouth, In its ripe warmth, smileth fruity d f the south." As a gar en 0 d y. To Georgie the life at the Vicarage is quite supportableâ€"is. indeed. balm to her wounded spirit. Mrs. Redmond may. of course, chop and change as readily as the east wind. and, in fact, may sit in any quarter, being some- what erratic in her humors; but they are short-lived; and, if faintly trying. she is at least kindly and tender at heart. As for the vicar, he isâ€"as Miss Georâ€" gie tells him. even without a blushâ€" “simply adorable;" and the children are sweet, good natured little souls, true-hearted and earnest, to whom the loss of an empire would be as dross in comparison with the gain of a friend. They are young! To Dorian Branscombe. Miss Brough- ton is "a. thing of beauty, and ajoy forever; her loveliness increases" each moment, rendering her more dear. Per- haps he himself hardly knows how dear she is to his heart, though day after day he haunts the Vicarage, persecut- ing the vicar with parochial business of an outside sort. It ought, indeed, to be “had in remembrance," the amount of charity this young man expended upon the poor during all this early part of the year. Then there is always Sunday, when he sits opposite to her in the old church, watching her pretty mischievous little face meditativer throughout the ser- vice. and listening to her perfect voice as it rises, clear and full of pathos, in anthem and in hymn. The spring has come at last, though tardy and slow in its approach. Nowâ€" "Buds are bursting on the brier,‘ And all the kindled greenery glows, I And iii-6.1185 richest overflows. And morning fields are fringed with ire." Winter is almost - forgotten. The snow and frost and ice are as a. dream that was told. No one heeds them now, or thinks of them, or feels aught about them, save a sudden chill that such things might have been. To-day is beautiful beyond compare. The sun is high in the heavens; the birds are twittering and preening their soft feathers in the yellow light that Phoebus flings broadcast upon the lov- ing earth. The flowers are waking slowly into life. and stud the mossy woods with colorings distinct though faint: “Necks of greening gloom Are rich with violets that bloom in the cool dark of dewy leaves." Priiuroses, too, are all alive, and sit staring at the heavens with their soft eyes, as though in their hearts they feel they are earth's stars. Each subtle green is widening, growing. All na- ture has arisen from its long slumber and “beauty walks in bravest dress." Coming up the road. Dorian meets Georgie Broughton. walking with quick steps, and in evident haste, toward the vicarage. She is lilting some merry lit- tle song of her own fancy, and has her hat pushed well back from her forehead, to that all her sunny hair can be seen. t is alovely hat,â€"â€"-inexpensive. per-. _haps, but lovely, nevertheless, in that it is becoming to the last degree. It is a. great big hat. like a coal-scuttle.-â€"-as sciii'iles used to be,â€"â€"and gives her all the appearance of being the original one of Kate Greenaway's charming im- perspnzilions. . _ “hood-morning," says Dorian, though in truth, be hardl' takes to heart the full beauty of the air morning that has been sent, so rapt he is in the joy at the very Sight of her. “Going back to the Vicarage now i" _“les.” She is smiling sweetly at hiui,â€"the little. kind. indifferent smile that _comes so readily to her red lips. . "“ ell. so am I,” says Dorian. turn- ing .to accompany her. Miss Broughton glances at him de- miirely. "_You can't want to go to the Vicarage again?" she sa‘s. lifting her brows. "How do you 'now I have been there, at all 10-day?" says Dorian. “0h, because you are always there, aren't you i" so 3 Georgie, shrugging her Shoulders, am biting a little flower, she had been holding, into two clean bah-m. “As you know so much. perhaps you also know why I am always there,"says Bmimcombe. who is half amused, half offended. by her willfulness. I ".\'o, I don't," replies she, easily, turn- ing her eyes. for the first time, full upon his. “Tell me." She is quite calm. quite composed: there is the very faintest touch of ma]. ice beneath her lon lashes. Dorian colon; perceptibly. 5 she coquette, or unthinking. or merely mischieviousi "No, not now," he says. slowly. "I hardly think you would care to hear. Some _day, if lmayâ€". What avery charming but you have on to-day l" She smiles againâ€"what true woman can resist a compliment fâ€"and blushes faintly. but very sweetly. until her face ls like a pale "msebud brightly blow- "This old hat i" she says. with a small attempt at scorn. and very well .t-up babel that she misunderstood im: "why it has seen the rise and fall of many mentions. You can't mean this list?" "Yes. I do. To me it is the most beautiful hat in the world. no matter how many generations have been per- united to gaze upon it. _ It is yours 1" "Oh, yes: I bought it in the dark ages."‘says Miss ‘Broughton, disdaining to notice the insinuation. and treating his last remark as a leading question. "I am glad you like it." "Are you? I like something else. too‘ Imean your voice." "It is too minorâ€"too discontented. my aunt used to say." “Your aunt seems to have said a good deal in her the. She reminds me of Butler’s talker; Her tongue is always in motion. though v seldom to the purpose: and again, ‘ he is awalkmg pillory, and punishes more ears than a dozen standing ones.’ But I wasn‘t talking exactly _of your every-day voice: your singing: it is quite per- ”Two compliments five minutes!" says .Miss Georgie, calmly. Then changing her tone with dazzling. beâ€" cause unexpected, haste, she says, “No- thing pleases me so much as having m Singing praised. Do you know," Wit. hesitationâ€""I supposeâ€"I am afraid it is very great vanity on part, but I love mieown voice. It is like a friend to meFâ€"t thing I love best on earth." "Are you always going to love it hast on earth ‘3" “Ah! \Vell, that. rhaps was an exaggeration. I love larissa. I am happier with her than with any one l'alseé You"â€"meditativelyâ€"â€"“love her. w H "Yes, v much indeed. But Iknow somebody c with whom I am happier." _ " Well, that is the girl you are gomg to .marry, I suppose," said Georgie, easil ',â€"so easily that Dorian feels a touc of disappointment, that is almost pain. fall on his heart. "But as for Clarissa.”â€"in a uzzled tone,â€"“_I can- not understand er. She is gomg'to marry a man utterly unsuited to her. I met him at the ball the other ' ht, afid"â€"thoughtlessslyâ€"“I don’t ike m-l’ “Poor Horaoel". says Dorian rather taken aback. Then she remembers, and is in an instant covered with shame and confusion. _ “I beg your pardon," she says, hurri- edly. I quite forgot. It never occur- red to me he was your brother,â€"really. You believe me, don't you? And don't think me rude. I am not"â€"â€"plaintively â€"“naturally rude, andâ€"and, after all,” â€"with an u ward glance, full of hon- est liking,â€" e is not a bit like youl” “If you don’t like him, I lad you think he isn't," says Dorian ' “ ut Hor- ace is a very good fellow all through, infill I, fancy you are a little unjust to “Oh. not unjust," says Georgie, softâ€" ly. "I have not accused him of any fail- ing: it is only that something in my heart says to me, ‘Don't like him.’ " “Does something in your heart ever say to you, ‘Like some one'?" “Very often." She is (to confess the honest truth) Est a little bit coquette at heart, so t t when she says this she lifts her exquisite eyes (that always seem half full of. tears) to his for as long as it would take him to know they had been there, and then lowers them. “I shall have to hurry,” she says; “it is my hour for Amy’s music lesson." “Do you like teaching f" asks he, idly, more for the sake of hearing her plain- tive voice again than from any great desire to .know. “Like it ’I" She stops short on the Eretty woodland ath, and confronts im curiously: " ow, do you thin-k I could like it? I don’t thenl I perfect- ly hate it! The tual over and over again, the knowledge that to-morâ€" _row will always be as to-day, the feel- mg that one can't get away from it, m.maddening. And then there are the mistakes, and the false notes, and everyâ€" thing. \Vhat a. question to ask me! Did anyone ever like it, I wonder!" There 18 some passion, and a real: deal of etulance in her tone; an her lovely f ower-like face flushes warmly, and there is something besides in her expressmn that is reproachful. Dorian begins to hate himself. How could he have asked her such a senseless ques- tion? He hesitates, hardly knowing what to say to her so deep is his sym- pathy; and so, before he has time to deCide on any course, she speaks again. . "It is so monotonous," she says, wear- ily._ "One goes to bed only to get up again“, and one gets up with no ex- ectation of change, except to go to again." “ ‘One dem’d horrid grind,’ ” quotes Mr. Branscombe. in a low tone. He is filled with honest pity for her. In- stinctively he puts out his hand, and takes one of hers, and resses it ever so gently. “Poor child!" e says, from his heart. To him. with her baby face, and her odd impulsive manner, that changes and varies with every thought, she is merely a child. She looks at. him, and shakes her head. "You must not think me unhappy," she says, hastily. “I am not that. I was twice as unhappy before I came here. Everybody now is so kind to me, â€"-Clarissa and the Redmonds, and"â€" with another glance from under the long lashesâ€""you, andâ€"Mr. Hast- ings." “The curate?" says Dorian, in such a tone, as compels Miss Broughton, on the instant, to believe that he and Mr. Hastings are at deadly feud. ‘ "i thought you knew him," she says with some hesitation. "l have met him," returns he, "gen- erally, I think, on tennis- rounds. He can run about a good deal, )ut it seems a pity to waste a good hat on him. He never hits a ball by any chance, and as for servingâ€"I don't think I swore for iix months until the last time I met up." "Why, what did he do?" "More than I can recall in a hurry. Fo rone thing, he drank more tea than any four people together that ever I knew." "Was that all? I see no reason why gig. one should be ashamed of liking "Neither do I. On the contrary. one should be proud of it. It betrays such meekness, such simplicity, such content- ment. I m'self am not fond of tea. â€"a fact I eplore morning, noon and night." "It is a mere matter of education," says Georgie, laughing. "I used not to care for it, except at breakfast. and now I love it." "Do you? Iwish with all my heart that I was good sopchong," says M r. Brans- combe. at which she laughs a in. “One can't have all one's esires," she says. "Now. with me music is a passion; yet {have never heard any of the great singers of the age. Isn't that hard 3" "For you it must be, indeed. But how is it you haven’t 3" "Because I have no time, no money. noâ€"no anything." "What a‘liesitstionl Tell me what the ‘anylhing' stands for.“ even -v. .0...“ ! i l I i . l I ! I iluabapd. I suppose." says "Well. I mean no homeâ€"that. is. no Georgie..S_he is quite unconcerned. and smiles athim "911V :1th as she says it. 'Of the fact that he is actually in love mth her, she is totally unaware. "That is s regret likely to be of short Standing." he says, his eyes you hers. But her thoughts are far away, and she hardly’ heads the warmth of hls goaze or the evident meaning in his no. "I suppose if I did marry somebody he would take me to hear all the rest people?" she says, a little doubt_ully. ioo‘ ' at him as though for confirma- tion 0 her hope. “I should think he would take you wherever you wanted to o, and to hear ghatiever you wished to ear," he says, ow y. "What a charming picture you con- ure up!" says Georgie, looking at him. ‘You encourage me. The very first rich man that asks me to marry him. I shall say ‘Yes' to." . "You have made up your _mind, then. to marry for money " He is watchin her closely, and his brow has contracts a good deal. and his lips show some "I have made up my mind to nothing. Perhaps I haven‘t one to make up."â€" lightly. "But I hate teaching, and I hate being poor. That is all. But we were not talking of that. We were thinking of Mr. Hastings. At allevents you must confess he reads well, and that is something] Almost everybody reads badly.” "They do," says Branscombe. meekly. “I do. Unless in words of one syllable, I can't read at all. So the curate has the pull over me there. Indeed, I begin to feel myself nowhere beSides the cur- ate. He can read well, and. drink tea well, I can't do either." _ “Why, here we are at the Vicarage," says Georgie, in a tone of distinct sur- prise, that is flattering to the last deâ€" gree. “I didn’t think we were half so ,close to it. I am glad I met you‘, be- cause, do you know, the walk hasn't seemed nearly so long as usual. \Vell, good-by." “May I have those violets ?" says Branscombe, pointing to a little bunch of those fair comers of the spring that lies upon her breast. _ "You may," she saysudetaching them from her own and givmg them to him willingly, indly, but without a. particle of the tender confusion he would glad- ly have seen in her. "They are rather faded," she says. with some_ disappcint- ment; "you could have picked your- self a sweeter bunch on your way home." ‘ “I hardly think so." .. "Well, good-by again," she-says, turn- ing up to him the most beWitching and delicious of small faces,_"and be sure you put my poor flowersm water. They will live the longer for 1 ." “They shall live forever. A hundred you’re .hetnce, were you to ask me where they were, I swear I should be able to show them." _ "A very safe oath." says Miss Brough- ton; and then she gives him her hand, and parts from him, and runs all the way down the short avenue to the house, leaving him to turn and go on to Gowran. (To Be Continued.) 0-- A BRAVE» SPEECH. â€"a What United States Senator ‘Volcott Sal’s About the Boundary Dispute. The bravest, worthiest utterance made by any American public man upon the Venezuelan boundary dispute was the speech delivered recently in the Senâ€" ate by Senator ‘Wolcott. That oration deserves to stand to the everlasting honor of the statesman who made it. Its fairness and courage must startle the American people, who have been CARBEREP DR. JIM Ixrsassrmo HISTORY or THE row muons on. JAMESON. A Typical Adventure With an the Vir- tues and All the Vices of ms More Famous Predccessorâ€"Fcted and lin- tertalned by Royaltyâ€"Some arms Characteristics.Ԥ "Dr. J is a Scotsman. and strange stories of his dash and cleverness when a boy are told. Companions of his youth remember how, to get fruit for them out of his father's garden. he would defy all the canes of the house- hold. He was educated for the medical profession. and was in good practice at Kimberley when Cecil Rhodes picked him up. Devoted to his profession and. making a large income though he Was. he abandoned everything to take part in the opening up of Mashonaland. and his conduct all through the Matabele troubles is written large in South African history. In 1887 Jameson and Rhodes were living together at Kimberley in lodg- ings that consisted of one sitting-room. and two bedrooms. It is not generally known that Rhodes owes his life to the doctor. .who attended him assiduously. night and. day. through a dangerous ill- ness. This laid the foundation of their friendship. \Vhen the infant operations of the future chartered company were endangâ€" ered by Lobengula, Jameson made his way, alone and unarmed, to the dusky King's presence. His friends thought he would never return. But the King was ill, and Dr. Jameson's fame as a mediâ€" cine man had penetrated to Lobengula's court. He was, therefore, called upon to cure the King. This, fortunately, he succeeded in doing. Lobengula and all hiTretinue were delighted, and the docâ€" tor not only obtained the concession he was in quest of, but permission for the pioneer force to march through Mashon- aland. A \Vhen Fort Salisbury had been es- tablished, the question arose as to a direct route to the took the matter in hand. Accompanâ€" ied by Major Johnson, he marched from Fort Salisbury to Sarmento on the Pungwe river, then an unknown region, and so on to Beira. The Reira railway was the result. In his Visit to Loben- ula and his march to the coast Dr. summon had given ample eVidence of the stuff of which he was made, and on his return to Fort Salisbury he received the SUPREME COMMAND. But a. quiet career, however exalted, was not in his way, and when, a little later. it became necessary for _an offi- cial of the company to Vis1t Chief_Gu.nâ€" gunyana, at the mouth of the Limpo- po, Dr. Jameson undertook the task. It was a two months' Journey, prac- tically on foot, through a deadly climâ€" ate. The doctor on this occasion was accompanied by Dr. Doyle l and Mr. Moody and. a few carriers. First Doyle was stricken down by fever, then Moody, and finally J amesom him- self. They suffered from want of food. and for many days were exposed to a pitiless rain. After two months’ march through forest and swamps they ar- rived in rags and half dead at their destination. A stay there to recruit, listening so long to sounding, flamboy- and Jammn and his party started for ant, and insulting declamation against England. Out of this bcdlam of spread- eagleism they hear one of the strong- est, most respected characters in the Senate condemning the stand taken by the coast. and so home again. _ It was on his return from this _ter- rible journey that Jameson received the post of Administrator of IIashona- land. in succession to LIr. Archibald Col- quhoun, and in that ca acity had a. very ~ narrow escape of a brus with the Boers. the United States" denying the appli‘ \Vhen the latter were preparing tolrek cation of the Monroe doctrine to the across the Limpopo into new territory question, eulogizing England for the splendid front she is now showing to her enemies, and rejoicmg that he is of English stock. It takes a high deâ€" Jameson succeeded in turning gree of courage thus to stem the flood Dr. Jameson and a band of Bechuana- land police met them, and, although bloodshed seemed at first unavmdab e, back the trekkers without the firing of a single of jingoism which the majority of his shot. colleagues in both Houses seem to think leads on to success at the polls. The two parties have been vying with each other to score the highest point in ag- Later came the Matabele war, which, if its necessity be admitted, even his reatest detractors ' would declare 'ameson carried through in a manner resslve Americanism. The most peace- worthy of him. The forces at his com- ul members of Congress, those most friendly to Britain. those most convinc- ed of the impropriety of the United States interference, have been swept along by what they supposed to be A POPULAR \VAVE. Few of them dared to raise the faintest protest against the general drift to- wards war. - Congress gradually toned down, it is true, as it began to catch the real sense of the country from the letters, sermons, meetings, and news- paper articles opposing its hasty action, ut it still believes in jingoism. That it is not now so ardent, however, is manifest from the reception that Senâ€" ator Davis’ bill defending the Monroe doctrine appears to have met. Senator \Volcott's splendid speech is likely to knock some more of the fervour out of the jingojsts. Even more creditable to him than his fairness and courage are the noble sentiments to which he gave utterance when speaking of the civilizing and Christianizing work that he believed the two Englishâ€"speaking nations are called to do. "\Vhatever," he says, " of advancement and progress for the human race the centuries shall bring us must largely come, in my opmwn. through the s read of the re- ligion fit Cllll'list and tie domilnance 05 e ng is speaking peop e, an wherever you find both you find com- munities where freedom exists and law is obeyed." Such sentiments as these are rarely heard in Congress, and ex- pressed by so distinguished a Senator as Mr. \Volcott they must have a whole- some effect. Senator Lodge, with his boasted culture and boasted jingoisin. and Senator Morgan. with his rancorous hatred of Britain. are poor figures be- side the Senator from Colorado. What makes Mr. \Volcott’s fairness the more raiseworthy is the fact that he comes roma silver State, and is himself an advocate of silver money. The silver men were sup to bear the strong- est dislike to England. because it was the home of the hated "gold bugs." Senator Wolcott's speech could not be more fair-minded and British if it had. been delivered in the British House of Lords instead of in the American Sen- ate. mand in that campaign numbered about 2.000 and they were manipulat- ed with a prompitude and _ dealsmn worthy of aveteran in the field. The war was sharp, but short, and what- ever credit there was in connection with it was very largely due to _Jaine- son. For his services in Rhodesni. the doctor was made a Companion of the Bath about a year ago. _ It was about the same time that Dr. Jameson and Cecil Rhodes were feted in England and entertained. by Royalty at the Imperial Institute, in the com- ny of such guests as the late Lord gliancellor, the Duke of Fife. Earl Grey. Lord I’layfair, Sir l3‘ro-deric Lei rhton, Sir R. Herbert, and Sir C. Mil ‘. The Prince of \Vales on that occasion, amid the enthusiasm of near- ly 3,000 hearers thanked Dr. Jameson for his "most interesting and excel- lent address." and "hoped that he would continue to be most successful" in his war kin South Africa; and it was also on the same occasion that Dr. Jameson expressed his belief that Rhodesia “must be a great factor'in what he hoped would be attained. VIZ., a commercial union of the different States of South Africa." He ventured to think that "within a rcawnable time even the Transvaal would 50m in a muchâ€"desired confederation.“ . Miss Balfour, in her recently-publish- ed account of “Twelve Hundred Miles in a \Vaggon," gives the following de- scription of DR. J ALIESON'S ABODE at Buluwaymâ€"“Dr. Jameson and Sir John Willoughby, who have a house between the old and new towns, about two miles from the latter. are hung in tents. and. have given up their rooms ‘” I have Sir ohn Willoughb"s room. This is a true and faithful scription of it: It has mud wallsumud floor. thatched roof, With no ceding, doors made of two king-case lids. and an laced wimow, With shutter of rough cards. Furnitureâ€"a bed stead. one box upside down, some wooden shelves, 3 small strip of inat- ting, an'enipty whisky bottle doing duty as a candlestick, and (0h, luxâ€" ury!) a table! Dr. Jammn's room is coast. ~. Jameson ' "" " I: . much the same, only it; has a 7"" ch signers lookingaglass as well. “1 he din' -mom and latchen are close by "‘ 6 house is very comfortablu. really. although my deep iption of it may makeyou think it is an inappro- Drlate abode for the Administrator of a territory as large as France". But gist Doctor was always a Spartan in his cs. To those who know him it is not dif- ficult to see the mason of Jameson's great succem. "He is," wrote Dr. bowels. who saw much of him as a student. “a man of wide and deep ca- geeky. but not of wide interests. and is ability, is; themfore, concentrated. The secret of success in the work life is concentration. It the dif- fusion of ability. the scatt of the shot. which prevents any grea result. Dr. Jameson is one of the men who pomess that most precious of all quali- ties. an instinctive and. instant per- ception of the relation of means to ends. of the ends worth pursuing. and of the means which will secure them. To this he unites a physl ue capable of constant hardship. whic responds with incneasin strength to buffet. and also an intrepi courage and a ca acity. when need arises for untiring la r." YOUTHFUL TRAVELLERS. Three Llule Tots. the oldest Seven Yeah Travel Alone Across Ihc (‘ouilnenh The precocity and independence 0] American children are proverbial. but ing a sufficiently large undertaing~ when the C.P.R. officials at the \Vindsor station, Montreal, beheld three little mites who had travelled a distance of three thousand. miles, alone and unpro- tected, they wondered- if this was an il- lustration of the buoyancy and light- heartedncss with which the United States is ready to undertake the most herculean enterprises, the "licking" of England beinug,r unsatisfying as not be- ing a sufficiently larg cundertakingâ€" only a gentle stimulus, compelling merely the exercise of a moderate amount of energy, Ida Lewis, seven years; a sister aged four; and a broth- er, aged three years, travelled from 800 City, California, a distance of three thousand miles, and arrived safe and sound at the C.P.R. station on Friday nightâ€"tired, but self-confident. Their father had deserted their mother. and the latter, yielding to the request of the children's grandmother. at Crown Point, New York State, not far from f’lattsburgh, that she should send them on. put them- on the train a week ago and bade them good-by. They were SEVEN DAYS AND NIGHTS travelling. \thn the conductor and the passengers understood the case, they were treated with“ the greatest consid- eration. although before they had be- come the recipient of benefit, the child- ren could not resist the candies and pear nuts of the newsboy, and upon tiese they had spent the only dollar they had in the world, so that when they reached Montreal they were as Mr. Miller, the station agent, phrased it, “dead broke." The latter was very kind and directed Constable Richards to have them taken to a hotel, and be fed and. kept at his expense till the fol- lowmg morning. An excellent supper was provided for them, and the little boy. aged three, while expressing a candid delight in the first good meal he .had had for a week, fell asleep while conveying the food to his mouth. They had a good bath, a good bed and “the nicest breakfast" the following morning which they had tasted for a, ion time, the eldest girl, who was the, gui e and protector of the other two, remarked to Mr. Richards, to whom she expressed her thanks in a thoughtful womanly way. which went to the heart of that good-natured soul, wilese voice- when he announces the departure of trains, sounds like distant thunder. A 'bus was provided. and the three little travellers were taken to the Grand Trunk, where they were placed on the train for New York. The children's grandmother was to meet them at rown Pomt. The self-confidence of the children and the taking as a matter of course a journey which, a few years ago would have been perilous fox grown persons; were what excited thein- terest and admiration of the officials. ~râ€"- v..- 7 AN OLD-TIME MUTINY. (Ti-cw of the Schooner Marin. Kill ilu (inninlu. Male and lblliorsâ€"l‘rluoiieli Released. A despatch from San Francism says: â€"-I’articulars of a mutiny from the An- drew Islands on board the American trading schooner Maria. Capt. Brown. have been received. Capt. Brown. Male Hermann l-Iohlmann, and a passenger were murdered in cold blood by the crew. and Mrs. Brown and her son nearly killed by blows from an axe. After killing the captain. mate and the passenger, late at night, the scluxmer was headed for the Andrew islands. and Mrs. Brown and her boy were kept close prisoners, it being the intention of the inutincers to put them ashore on an isolated coral reef near the i. lands. Before the Chinese cooks, native sailors and boats- wain got. to fighting among themselves, and knives were drawn. ’l'wo lialf~ breeds were killed instantly, and an- other died of wounds reuiived. All of the mutineens were wounded. Provis- ions gave out. and when cruising off the Andrew Islands the schooner we: manned by the boatswiiin. two China-«- and a half-breed. 'l‘he schooner was steered into port, and the King of the Islands ave the murderers food enougl. to last t cm for several weeks. llefurt the vessel sailed again. however, the King became suspicious. boarded tln craft, rescued Mrs. Brown and her boy the former more dead than alive and took the mutinwm prisoners. The Spanish gunboat anzisci put in at An- drew Islamls, and took the murderer: to Manilla for trial. w..__..__... The Doctor Away. Callerâ€"What a terrible cough you have! Why don't you consult Dr. Know- all. the great lung specialist? Invalidâ€"l can't. He's gone south fol his health. islands were reached the,