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mm‘rWVVâ€" V V -â€" 1w :2: 4.2.. a; “341.5 Laban-xx“ .:.ewu_nw.c _ ,Mv.4“mthZKWIH-‘Emnwâ€"n‘wflIllâ€"ruâ€"WTJ‘an-NA‘E.hl;u‘»anx-Auwr“"- - .. . .. r. _....., .. . . . . g. _ . ,_ .' x V o,»- _. ‘.vuv-r’w n . a r i i , .Aamnmu mannered .~.- o4 um. ‘V'v a: mun-p» . a mm only previous occasion on 'mon, and in ééé‘ééé éééééééééééééésfig “if s Clean Bill fib§9§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§>§ In tkg; fiawing room of a house in MaYflafr Violet Raymond, a pretty, thoughtqu hooking girl of some 22 6 years, Ej§ Sitting anxiously awaiting the arrival of an expected visi- tor. Prey-Jay there was a tap at the floor, and a servant en- tered'. “Captain Walm Grenville, miss." The girl rose as a tail, bronzed man of about 35 came ~into the room. "I. hope you will forgive me it). asking you to call, Captain Gren- ville,” she said with a grave smile. "I heard .v you were back in Lon- don, and I lelt that under the cir- cumstances you would not think it a liberty. My aunt, Lady S'henley, has retired with a bad headache, else she would also be here to re- ceive yolu." ‘ “I am only too glad to be of any service,” he responded as he sat down. “In fact, if you had not written, I should have ventured to call." She sat down opposite him. The which they had met had been at Liverpool three years ago, when he had set sail to take up his command in West Africa. With him had been her brother, young Dick Raymond, then star-ting his military career as a sub- altern, and she and her aunt had journeyed down to see the last of liiiii. He remembered every detail of the short time he had spent in her comâ€" pany; now as he met her again, af- ter the terrible thing that had hapâ€" pened, his heart went out to her in pity. “You know what I want 'to know," she said, quickly. “I only saw your official despatch published in the papers.” ' “UOd knows it was hard enough to write,” he broke out. “It was kind of you to say what you didâ€"‘A gallant and promising oflicer.’ ” ,she exclaimed. “But tell me all, please," she finished plead- ingly. “We were in Sierra Leone when the rising in the Badakuta district broke out," he began, speaking in a low, disjointed voice. “I was imxme- déately despatched with an expedi- tion-to quell it; your brother came along with me, the only other white officer who could be spared. We got up near to Aoanclro and encamped over night on the south bank of the river. In the morning we prepared to cross; the natives, we under- stood, were ambushed about two miles away on the other side.” He pnzused. “Suddenly, as we began to cross, we were attacked by them in the rear. They were in full force; we were surprised, and the fighting Was desperate. Numbers of our men fell, and it looked as if we were in a tight corner, when Sherston and his relief party came up on the op- posite bank, just in time. We dropâ€" ped flat on our faces and they fired over our headsâ€"the situation was saved.” “And Dick?” lously. “The last time I saw him was some minutes before Sherston came up," he said, speaking with diffiâ€" culty. “He threw up his arms sudâ€" denly and staggered backward on the bank.” "Into the river?” she whispered. He nodded. There was a moment’s silence, then the girl rose to ‘her feet. The tears Were glistening in her eyes, but she was smiling. , “If it had to be, thank God he died as he didâ€"fighting at his post,” she cried. “It’s something for me to be proud of." He looked at her steadily. “Yes, it’s good to think that," he said slowly. She stood before him with shining eyes, for the moment full of enthusi- asm. Then it died away and she sank down and covered her face with her hands. A little later he left with a pro-m- she inquired trequâ€" ise to come to luncheon one day with Lady Shenley. He went straight to the rooms which his man had engaged for him in street, Piccadilly. Duke Sinking into an armchair, he buried himself in thought. “Yes, I did right," he said at last, with a sigh. About a week af- terward he received an invitation to luncheon at the house in Mayfair, and he went with a curious feeling of eager aniicipation. Violet Rayâ€" mond treated him in the light of an old friend, and he found the couple of hours spent in her society more enjoyable than anything he had yet experienced. Presently, when he rose to depart Lady Slicnley, who was then about to take her afterâ€" noon drive, offered to put him down in Piccadilly, and he accepted grate- fully. He sat opposite Violet and Lady Shenloy in the open Victoria, reply- ing politely to the latter’s gay and irresponsible chatter. He formed the impression that, while Lady Shcnley was kind in her way to Vioâ€" let, the tWO had not much in com- this he was correct. The girl was built of far more re- liable stull‘ than her light-hearted, pleasure-loving aunt. The carriage turned into Bond street and rolled (Lawn toward Piccaâ€" dilly at a good pace. As it swept round the cornei there was a sharp cry of warning from the pavement. Walter Grenville sprang up and saw 3 (31194 running across the road a a. Ma r“ "emu. .. v. m .mu......__............_._._. ._.1 . few yards ahead. She lost her foot- ing on the greasy wood pavement and fell sprawling in the roadway right in front of the horses. The coachman pulled frantically at his reins, but they were going at full speed. There was another yell from the bystanders, than a sudden si- lence. ~ The carriage swayed to and fro; another second and the horses would haVe trampled on the child had not a figure darting madly from the curb, pulled her from under the horses’ hoofs and throw her out of harm’s way.’ The next moment his foot slipped on the slimy surface and falling the pole of the carriage struck him and he was trampled on. The carriage came to a stanidstill with a. jerk and Grenville leaped :o-ut. Already a little crowd had 1rethered round the prostrate figure; he was carried to the pavement. Grenville pushed his way through and leaned over it: man. He was apparently a tramp; his clothes were, in rags, his face was thin and gaunt, with some weeks' growth of strag- gling black beard on his chin. From a wound in his forehead the blood was streaming and he was moaning. As Grenville dropped on one‘ lcmee beside him he slowly opened his eyes. The officer gave a. sudden start, then peered eagerly into the man’s face. He rose to his feet quickly. “My rooms are just opposite â€" No. 3313 Duke street," he said thickly to the policeman who had just appeared. “Take him there, and I will get a doctor at once." Iâ€"Ile . hurried back to the carriage where Violet was waiting pale and trembling. “It’s rather a bad accident," he said swiftly. “I’m having him tak- en to my rooms. You go back now; I will let you know later how things are." “A terrible misfortune!" exclaimâ€" ed Lady Shenley, piteously. “Every one is looking. at us. Tell John to go home at once, Violet.” “Can't I help?" said the latter anxiously to Grenville. He shook his head. "I will let you know," he repeat- ed, then gave directions to the coacliman; the carriage turned and moved swiftly away. He approached the knot of people again. Already a shutter had been obtained and the wounded man laid upon it. They raised him carefully and carried him. across the road, the crowd of bystanders following curiously. Grenville led the way to the house and opened the door with a latelikey. “Scrivener,” he called to his serâ€" vant, who appeared in the hall, “there has been an accident; fetch the nearest doctorâ€"quick!” Scrivener ran off without his hat. The man, now unconscious, was brought in, carried slowly upstairs and deposited on a bed. A few secâ€" onds afterward a doctor arrived, and Grenville was busily employed in giving him assistance. Then rcâ€" tiring to a corner of the room, he waited until the doctor had finished his examination. ,At last he rose from his task. He turned and walkâ€" ed over to Grenville. “Nothing can save him,” he said in a low voice. “He has received internal injuries which make it im- possible for him to live more than a day at the most. He will regain consciousness again, but if we were to attempt to move him to a hos- pital he would die on the way.” “No, no; he must stop here,” said Grenville between his teeth. The doctor shrugged his shoul- ders. “You will not be troubled long,” he said, picking up his hat and gloves. “You can do absolutely nothing beyond following the direc- tions I have given you; they will but make the few hours he has to live more comfortable. Goodâ€"bye; I will look in again in the evening." Grenville accompanied the doctor to the door, then went back to the room. At the entrance he was met by Scrivener, who had been in, was just coming out. There was a scar- ed look on his face. “Good God, sir, it’s â€"â€" -â€"Aâ€"!” he whispered. “I know." he teeth. “Mind, not a word of to any one.” Hie went into the room again and sat by the bedside gazing at the white, pinched face. Suddenly the eyes of the man opened, and center- ed themselves on his face. "Grenville!" he murmured fever- ishly. “Of courseâ€"who should it be? It’s ‘Forward!’ in a few minâ€"- utes now! Oh, my head!" he finish- ed with a moan. Scrivener brought in the medicine which the doctor had sent. They gave him. a dose, and pro. said with clenched this sently he dropped off into a heavy sleep. Grenville watched by his bedside. Later the doctor came in again. - “He may last through the night, but not much longer,” he said, af- ter another examination. “I have ordered a nurse to come around.” The next morning found the pa- tient still alive, but the doctor gave him but a few hours. About 11 o’clock he had a spell of consciousâ€" 111038, and Grenville sat beside him talking to him. Then he grew half delirious again. ' The door opened and Scrivener appeared; he beckoned Grenville aside. “Lady Shenley and Miss Raymond have called, sir," he whispered. V“Lady Shenley is in her carriage, your sitting room." “Stop here," said Grenville, with a white face, then strode to the door, and opened it. out and shut it quickly, for the He stepped thinks you man in his delirium was talking loudly. He crossed to the other side of the landing and opened the door of his sitting room. As he did so the man’s voice suddenly raised itself to a. shout. “Grenville!” he cried. He stopped hastily into the room and shut the door. The girl had risen from her seat and stood be- fore him, her face white and terror stricken. "Tliiat voice!" she cried. Dick’s!” She was gazing into his eyes fearâ€" fully. Grenville clenched his hands; the veins stood out on his forcâ€" head. “It was “Oh, for me!” “Yesâ€"Dick's," he said hoarsely. “If you are strong enough, come with me. But it’s almost death," he added, looking at her in anguish. She moved herself with an effort. “I am strong enough,” she said between her shut lips. Without a word he led her across the land- ing and opened the door. Scrivenâ€" er started when he saw her, and then slipped out of the room noise- lessly. The girl approached, and gazed at the bandaged head. Then she dropped on her knees beside the bed and took his hand betWCcn hers. She pressed it to her lips. “Dick! Dick!" she said with a sigh. * The wild, delirious look seemed to pass from his eyes. With a painful effort he raised his head. “My Vi!" he groaned, the tears starting to his eyes., “Oh, my God! that I should have brought this on you!” He pauSed to recover his strength. “Yes, it’s a lie that Grenville told in his despatch. I didn’t die like a man at my post; I bolted like a coward!" He paused again. “I was in charge of the right wing when the surprise came. Instead of holding their ground, my menâ€"West Indians, curse ’emIâ€"broke and ran for their lives. To this day I don’t “It was gDick’s!” she repeated. the love of heaven, tell know the reason. I simply seemed to grow gray with fear. I lost my nerve, lost my manhood. God knows how I did itâ€"I fled with them! Grenville saw me do it!" he finished, panting for breath. "Don’t Dick, dear; that's enâ€" ough!" implored the girl. “You must hear me through," he went on weakly. “Half a mile flur- thcr I drew up. For the first time I realized what I had done. If I had had my revolver I should have shot myself, but, I had dropped that. I could have died with shame. I knew I could not go backâ€"anever look a brave man in the face again!" He paused and drew in a tortuous breath. “Somehow or other I man- aged to get down to coast to Warn â€"â€"I had a. little money with me. I got a passage in a trading brig to Liverpool and landed there with a few shillings in my pocketâ€"dead to the worldâ€"for I found out what Grenville had done for incâ€"bless him! Since then it has been a liv- ing hellâ€"tramping, now and then a job, starving! But I deserved it all! A man without honor has no right to live and now, now"â€" This head fell back on the pillow and a deathly gray pallor came to his face. He closed his eyes. They stood watching him, not daring to move. He opened his eyes once again and wetted his lips. "But the childâ€"I’ve given my life; it wasn’t much, but it's better than nothing!” he gasped. "Yes, yes, Dick, your clean!” broke in Grenville. sister knows it; I know it.” With a tremendous effort young Raymond raised himself on his elâ€" bow. “Ah, it's good to have a clean"â€" The last word chokcd in his throat as he fell back. With a cry the girl bent forward and peered into his face, then she rose, and her tear laden eyes met Grenville's gaze. “You need not be ashamed of him," he said gently. One evening some months later, the two were together again. He had been telling her something which had brought a delicate flush to her cheek. Then she asked him a question. “Why did I do it?" He paused. "Do you remember that night at Liverpool when I first met you.” I saw what your brother was to you â€"that he was everything in your life. I fell in love with you that night! Then when, months later, that terrible thing happened, I reâ€" alized in a flash what it would mean to you if I let the truth get known, so I thought for hours, then wrote the despatch as you read it.” There was a long pause. Then she raised her eyes to his. “You did it because you loved me?” she whispered. I-Ie bent down, and, taking her in his arms, kissed her on the lips. "Because I loved you; because somehow I felt it was not his real self that had prompted him to act as he didâ€"a mad impulse, but not his nature. And you and I know that this was right, that he wipe the stain .out,” he said. c "Yes, we know,” she answered, with a soft sigh of content. ______+_.__ HER PREFERENCE. “Shall I administer gas before exâ€" traCting your tooth?” asked the den- tist. “Well,” answered the fair patient from a back township, “if it doesn’t bill’s “Your ibut the young lady insisted on see- cost any more I'd rather you.d give ing you, so I have shown her into me electric light.» ...‘ ..__+.__.__._ Friendâ€"“I suppOSe your wife still! are a treasure?" Benedict I the curious in human nature. “Now, ‘ and one an occasxonal performamflg- â€"-“Noâ€"-a treasury." _________.7._._._â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"4-r4 (which, if pursued, may'throw much! Sub- THE UENSUSJE ENE]. Husbands at Fifteenâ€"Very Young Children at Arduous Work. A book of summary tables relating to the 1901 census of England and Wales has just been published. It is full, from the first page to the last, of interesting and curious inforâ€" mation. Who, for instance, imaginâ€" 'ed that there were more than 100 centenarians in England and Wales? There are 146. Or. rather, as cen- tenarians are perishable beings, it would be more correct to say that there were 1116 in April, 1901â€"93 being women. Again, who would think that the centenarian thrived best in a big city? Apparently he does, for of the total number 102 lived in towns and 441- in the country. HUSBANDS AT FIFTEEN. Two boys are husbands at. the age of 15, and two girls were Widows at 16. A boy of 20 had a wife of 65; a girl of 15 had a husband of 60. There were 5,611,381 husbands, 5,- 717,537 wives, 550,330 widowars, and 1,246,407 widows. The explaâ€" nation of the disparity between the number of husbands and wives is, of course, the fact that there are wives in England whose husbands are abroad, and husbands Whose wives are also absent. There were 91 widows under the age of 20, and 25,112 over the age of 80; and 3,625 very old maids had passed the age. of 85. One of the most curious tables is that which records the callings of women. CALLINGS OF WOMEN. They have asserted their rights in some very masculine fields, as the following abstract shows:â€" Womenâ€"rDoctors, 212; dentists. 140; veterinary surgeons, 3; law clerks, 367; authors and journalists, 1,20%9; actresses, 6,443; school teachâ€" ers, 17,670; artists, 3,789; black- smiths’ strikers, 316; brassfounders, 440; shepherds, 12; slaughterers, 3; knackers, 136; crossing swoepers, 110; barmaids, 27,707; cellar wo- men, 1,316; anchorers, S6; swordâ€" makers, 6; bill discounters, 56; boilermakers, 4-; bricklayers, 4; clerks, 55,784; carters and waggon- ers, 660; commercial travellers, 382; gardeners, 36; pavior, 1; level cross- ing keepers, 265; omnibus conduc- tors, 8; chimney sweeps, 54; slaters, 3; undertakers, 279. Judging from the above, the only occupations still confined to men are those of the soldier, groom, cabinan, coal heaver, engine driver, navy poâ€" liceman, motor car driver, and Roâ€" man Catholic priest. The table of the afflicted in Engâ€" land and Wales is as followsâ€"Blind, 25,317; deaf and dumb, 15,245; deaf, 18,507; lunatics, 83,772; imbe- ciles, 48,852. - In another afliicted classâ€"~those who languish in gaolâ€"are thirty-five “barristers and solicitors," sixteen doctors. and tWGnty “authors, ediâ€" tors, journalists, reporters and shortâ€" hand writers." Of the two million people in Wales, 280,905 Speak Welsh only. During the century the population multiplied four foldâ€"from. 6,260,852 to 32,527,843. On the night of the census 1,645 persons were found sleeping in barns or sheds, 12,5117 in caravans, tents, or the open air, In the latter category Hampshire topp- ed the list with 895. Of the 4,536,541 persons enumer~ ated in London, 3,016,580 were Lonâ€" don-born. Other persons, born in London and enumerated in other places numbered 1,115,178. On the balance, therefore, as between people born in the metropolis who left it, and people born elsewhere who came to it, London gained about 400,000 souls. A CHILDREN IN BUSINESS. But perhaps one of the most reâ€" markable features of the tables is the early age at which children set out on the battle of life. BetWeen the ages of ten and fourâ€" teen there are in England and Wales 2,673,967 children the sexes being pretty evenly dividedâ€"1,334,688 boys and 1,339,279 girls. Of these children 138,130 boys and 70.262 girls are all at Workâ€"not at their lessons, but at every conceivable in- dustry or occupation dealt with in the return. , As a rule, the girls seem to take more seriously to the business of life than the boys. There are, for inâ€" stance, 142 tenâ€"yearâ€"old “char- women," 505 employed in laundries, 681 engaged in the tobacco trade, 4:50 in the jewellry and watchmaking industry, 674 in the earthenware trades, and 30,367 in various textile occupations. There is one girl insurance clerk at this tender age, as well as one railway clerk and one “engaged in fishing. ' ’ There are three girl ‘ ‘barrremen’ ’ of ten years seven o ' “ “warehousemen, ‘ ' four gunsnii ths, seven brassfounders and two ironâ€" foundersâ€"though a girl ironfounder of ten years is a thing “the imagin- ation boggles at.” W'le S N A 1'? “Did you ever notice the peculiarl men have of snapping‘ habit some their fingers something vbich has escaped their minds for the moment?" asked a man who keeps a keen lookout hrre a curious study, while trying to recall] for ing promises. 'light . on a very interesting ject. Why should a man snap his fingers when be temporarily targets a thing? Does this physical move- ment aid the mental processes? Does the fact prove the material basis of the mind? It must Show a very in- timate connection between the two. Curiously enough, this same condi- tion will manifest itself in» many ways under similar circumstances. All men do not snap their fingers when there is a mental lapse which they are seeking to overcome. They will find other ways of bridging the gap. One man will pat his foot when he forgets temporarily. An~ other will bite his lip, or place his finger against his temple, or rub one hand across the forehead, or resort t"; some other effort to stimulate his lagging memory. “"liy is this’. Is one's memory really aided by these physical movements? Itxznusi be, else humanity would have drop~ ped them long ago. Almost every man, when he forgets something - namc, for instance, which is righi on the end of his tongueâ€"will maki some kind of physical effort to con. jure the proper image from its bid- ing-place in the brain cells; Wiy if is 1 do not know. I know merci; that it happens, and I suppose 11‘ answers some good purpose." _+____.. NIGHT IN A PELICAN’S NEST. Adventure of a. Sportsman at 3 Famous Resort for Birds. With what satisfaction I recall m] visit to Bird Rock, that famous re sort for birds just within the pas sage betweemNewfoundland and Capt Breton. Audubon, in a wave-tossm schooner, lay off the rock for hour! in the vain hope that he might of feet a landing; and one could there fore appreciate weather which per mitted one safely to run a boat ontc the hand's breadth of beach beneatl the birdâ€"inhabited Walls towerini more than a hundred feet above. Tin top was reached by means of a crate a rake, and a Windlassflapparatu subsequently found most useful if reaching points of vantage whence tn photograph ‘birds nesting on the fee of the cliff. says a writer in tlr World’s Work. I have not always been so fortu nate, however, and a trip to stud; a small colony of White pelicans wat attended by far from satisfactory re sults. Size and color combine ti make these birds exceedingly con spicuous, and an opportunity to tes a. rifle upon them is rarely lost Where man and gun are found, there fore, the birds nest in only the mos isolated places. This particula’ roup of about forty birds had se lected an islet or, locally a “reef,‘ so far out in Shoal lake, Manitoba that it was wholly invisible from the shore. 'But reach them we must and the trip of four or five mile was made in a twelve-foot punt, tli bottom of which could be wise]; trod on only with great caution. Th reef was reached and the splendi White birds were found sitting 0'; their nests of sand and gravel. A your approach they arose and, Wit! characteristic dignity of flight, dis appeared far down the lake. I! awaiting their return, concealed in l small patch of reeds, a Suddei change occurred in the weather an! soon we .found ourselves prisoners il pelicanâ€"land.~ Fortunately we had I tent-fly, which with a push-pole, 1 pair of crossed oars, and a camert tripod, would have made a passabl: shelter under ordinary circumstances But in the end the circumstance! proved to be extraordinary. Tllf storm became one to date from. Noi only were we forced to ballast oul tent with boulders, but, sitting, in a pclican's nest, the only available unlloodod position, I passed a good portion of the night with my hand: clasped around the ridge pole of OUl improvished shelter to prevent the whole affair from blowingr into tlu lake. Eventually we reached the mainland, none the worse for the ex- perience, but the pelicans, alas! re and in their absence their eggs were devoured by the western gulls that nested near them. P OIN TED P ARAG RAPI-I’S . The most truthful and dumb. Jealousy at best is but a chronh case of selfâ€"love. A man of genius often makes a fortune for a man of talent. During the courtship love up best in the dark. Many a man mistakes his dyspep- tic idcas for moral convictions. The lawyer seldom works with a will until the doctor cleares the way. Singers who pursue the even ten- or of their way never get off theii bass. If a man triists to luck for hi: dinner he will never be troubled with the gout. All the respect and vencrafion due to old age is ladled out to the wealthy grandparent. It sometimes happens that the man who is afraid to fake a chm-o, is beaten at his own game. I So long as the rural "vi-13m; uses patent insides he oughh i.'.\ be proof against cholera germs. The man who puts his trust in Providence and simultaneously Win-silos for a job is reasonably sun to land. Don't spend all your time in mak- It you would retain your friends it is up to you to 31v! men are dea.’ shows fused to' share their home with us,’ .-. 1‘ N, I w ~â€"â€"«r-vâ€"~â€"-‘.z.wz.:”:wmwr hm?wa ; .....'â€" -”~" " ’4 5-" am r Si‘.::"~z‘ £79" £€Q§WETMÂ¥I 1. 1 ‘7: