it
ii. 1 . r J . . a
From th Chicago Ledger. j
LINK BYSLINK;
I -R' T .
The Rended Veil.
BY NATHAN D. URNER.
Anther of ''Florence Falkland,! "The Mod
ern Crnnoe," "Squirrel-Cap," "Rover
and Trader," "The Speechless
Spy ," "Evadne," Etc, Etc
CHAPTER XIV Continued.
Eunice was probably about to make a
venemous retort, when sho was anticipated
bv Doc, wb,o held one handover his averted
eyes, while stretching out the other toward
Miss Digb, and cried out in a sad, grieved
voice: Oh, Marion! how can you speak
so? You were seen keeping such, an ap-poinraent4-both
Mr. Piercer and I wit
nessed it!" j- -
M 83 Digby staggered back, as if smitten
in the heart. She crimsoned first, then
turned frightfully pale, and I expected she
was going to faint. But she caught the
back of a chair, and again! recovered her
self with capital firmness. Then, once
more, and unflinchingly facing alike heir
lover's sad, accusing gaze, Jocelyn's icy
respect, a ;d the colored beauty's malignant
triumph, she spoke calmly with a re
snmpt.on of all her maidenly dignity. '
" You must all have been the victims of
strange illusions concerning me," said she,
slowly. "I can only solemnly and firmly
persist in the denial of; what has been im
puted t: ma. As Heaven' is my witness,
I be charge is wholly and unqualifiedly
false!" i j
With erect demeanor and unbowed head,
she swef t out of. tho. room.
Doc took an.Tnesolute step forward, and
would, I believe, have recalled her, but
Ty that Eunice ventured to slip her hand in
i rhi:i and detain him. If i he had not
I solemnly assured me, some time previous
to this, that he had never either seriously
encouraged or taken advantage of this
girl's passionate and painfully-evident at
tachment for him, I should just then have
been impressed with a suspicion as little
rlatte iug to his common-sense as to his
mor.tl principle. ,
am at mis moment a servant entereu
the room with a nossage for me from my
sister Norah, apprising me of important
information awaiting me at the cottage; for
I had telegraphed her of my intended re
turn, and bhe took the chances of a mes
sage reaching me at The Aspens.
As it was already dusk, I at once took
leave of Dps and Jocelyn, j saying that I
would soon let them know if I should
learn of anything fresh bearing upon oui
case, and started to quit the house. . J
While I was standing a'one at the hat
rack, however, groping for my hat and
overcoat, the hall lamp having not yet been
lighted, a step came hurrying down the
stairs, and then a light but resolute tonch
' was laid upon my arm. There was yet
sufficient light for me to recognize Miss
Marlon Digby. j
"I am fortunate to see you alone, if but
a moment,;" said she. "Tell me, Mr.
Piercer, do! you still believe me to have
really kept I such ai appointment at night,
whea 1 solemnly repeat, upon my- word of.
honor, that I did not?" j
For an instant I hesitated in my reply,
sorely troub'ed, but then, as I caught the
brave, appealing look of her sweet eyes
and face, I could not deny their truthf ul
ness and integrity. j
"No, Miss Digby," I blurted out impul
sively; "I do not I can no longer be
lieve it!" j
"Thnnkyou. oh, soniuch!" she exclaimed,
gratefully pressing my hand. Now"! do
feel encouraged in the' work and duty be
fore me. Nothing shall drive me from un
der this roof until that duty, is accom
plished, or at least until my friend, Lulu
Dixon, is returned to it."
I would willingly have lengthened the
interview, but, with another thankful pres
sure of my hand, she glided away, up the
shadowy stairs.
I think I was more troubled and mysti
fied on my way home that evening than I
had been for years. In addition to being
thoroughly wearied out, discouraged and
bewildered at the unsuccessfulness of our
long chase after the fugitive tramp, but es
pecially at the strange, unaccountable
contretemps of that afternoon, I ;was
anxious abejut having left poor Norah so
long without information of my where
abouts, but! most of all concerning the
llight or abduction of Miss Dixon, exactly
, which I could not yet determine what to
believe. But, concerning this last, a new
feeling, almost of terror, began to possess
me. I might as well confess it here as
later. I. was in love, for tho first and only
time in my jlife, and with the j gentle and
beautiful yoiung heiress herself.j I tried in
. vain to la ngb, sneer and reason! myself out
of it, but the sweet and subtle; , sentiment
had been growing in me for days, and was
no longer to be denied. True, my love
was as yet bnmingled with hope, but the
fact nevertheless remained that I, the poor
detective, whs in love with the rich and ac
complished heiress; and of course the exis
tence of this sentiment, mad and incon
gruous as it seemed, added tenfold to my
distress and solicitude- concerning the
mystery or j cril that now surrounded her,
I could not tell which. j
Norah 's welcome to me wasf as hearty
and tender as it always was after the long
absences from home so frequently inci
dental to my professional duties.
After I had briefly given an account of
myself, and while we were ealing supper
together, she told me that Hank; Dresser, a
brother detective and good friend of mine,
had called to see me repeatedly! during the
past three days, sayiug that he had ob
tained important information for me,
which, however, he had laughingly refused
to divulge to her, confidential communica
tions, even to a pretty woman,) not being
one of Hank's weaknesses, even! when that
Eretty woman chanced to be Norah herself,
is best chum's only sister, with whom I
had long suspected he was more than half
in love, and less hopelessly j than she
' would mostly have me believe. , , Just before
setting cut upon my will-o'-the-wisp
tramp-hunt through Long Island, I had
engaged Hank to look out for my interests
in the down-town business quarters, and I
was well aware that he would inot have
called to see me repeatedly without good
reason. But, to tell the truth, I was now
too fagged, out to even trouble myself with
speculations as to the nature of hip in
formation. So, soon after supper, I re
tired to my own- room, intending to take a
warm sponge bath and change my clothes,
preparatory to a good, all-night, restful
sleep in my bwn bed. . '
But man proposes, while fate disposes.
I had no sooner completed my prepara-
tions, and settled down in my easy chaii
for a little soporific perusal ,of the news
papers, when Norah brought me the fol
lowing telegram, which had just been left
by a messenger:
Police Headqfakteks, Dec. , IS .
, Dear Tom: Twice during your absence have 1
spotted and recognized .your man, De March
mont, among the crowd of brokers at the Stock
Exchange. Am assured that he attends there fre
quently, and without disguisa I only held my
hands ' off because he is your game and not
mine. If this reaches you in time, come dowr
to the Exchange to-morrow (Friday), where 1
will meet jou - Hank Dbesseb. .
I uttered an exclamation of astonish
ment, and, tossing the telegram to Norah'
at once got on my feet and began prepar
ing for the street. .
"What ! you are not , going out again to
night,. Tom?" said, my sister, hastily mas
tering the contents of the dispatch.
"Indeed I am!" was my reply, with all
sense of weariness suddenly' banished.
"Itis'nt'ten o'clock yet, and Doc must be
notified of this."
"But Hank must be crazy!" she cried,
"now could he have recognized De March
mont down itown, when you were on
his heels, in the tramp's disguise, away, off
there in Long Island?"
"I don't know."
"Then the tramp and this fellow must be
different persons, aftejr all?1' . .
"I'm as mucn mixea up as you, Norah.'
said I. slimnDcl into my- boots, overcoat
and hat with the rapidity of a fireman at
the bell-tan. "Good bye. once morel I'm
off." " " . j.
"But vou've onlv just returned! How
loner shall von be?"
"No longer than necessary, my dear," I
replied, kissing 'her shining face at parting;
-tut. IT over long, 1 shall send Hank to
take mv clace at the fireside."
I And then I escaped from the house, just
m time to avoid a good-natured box on tne
ear from Nora's plump right hand.
-
CHAPTER XV.
THE CXAKDESTINE APPOINTMENT.
It was a cold, clear night, with plenty of
starlight but no moon,, as I was walking at
a brisk pace over the frozen ground toward
The Aspens, when, upon traversing th
lonely raised road, almost directly opposite
The Spider, I. was somewhat startled by
seeing a woman suddenly flit down into the
sunken waste-lot to my left, and walk rap
idly toward the - shrubbery-masked mouth
of the " disused drain, already described,
from which the figure of a man as sud
denly rc6e to meet her, just as he had done
upon a previous; occasion.
i I was not only startled, but shocked, for
then, as before, I was almost positive that
I recognized in the woman's street-dress
and graceful bearing the person yes, it
could be no other of Man on Digby.
Yet remembering as I did the solemnity
and aDparent earnestness of her recent dc
coma it" "be possiDier couia suci
monstrous duplicity and falsehood have
existence in such fair-seeming guise?
;- "No matter; this time there shall be no
uncertainly about it!" I muttered between
my set teeth; and, also dropping into the
sunken lot, I cautiously crept under the
shadow of the road-bank toward the place
where they were standing.
I had not, apparently,, baen perceived by
them or any one else, and the night was fa
vorable for secret observations. By keep
ing first in the shadow of the bank, and
then, stooping lower, in that of the raised
drain, I was enabled to reach the clump of
bushes and stunted trees at its mouth, be
hind which I could hear the murmur of
their voices in conversation, though with
out distinguishing the words or reccgrau
ing the voices, j
Beaching the cover of the thicket, I was
enabled to stand erect and approach them
more easily. At last I had them before me in
full view under the clear starlight, and not
more thau twenty paces away.
The woman's, face was so closely veiled
and muffled that I could not distinguish
the features, but the form, the bearing,
every expression of the graceful, listening
attitude, were apparently those of Marion
Digby, whom I then silently cursed in my
heart as being perfidious in full propoitio i
with her beauty. and seeming innocence.
'j ! The man with whom she was conversing
as by clandestine appointment in this re
mote and lonesome place, was a villain
ously dirty, travel-stained fellow, whose
face was also partly concealed from me at
first. But presently he raised it in the
full glitter of the star-shine a careworn,
sparsely bearded, hunted face and then,
almost with a yell of astonishment and
triumph, I recognized it. 8
It Was the wash-house tramp the mys
terious, fiend-assisted fugitive who had led
us the phantom !race through the length
and breadth of Long Island the slipper',
illusive wretch who had vanished almost
from beneath our very grasp but a few
hours before! I
. No sooner had I collected myself from
th& sort of shock consequent upon this
startling recognition than, with a hoarse,
triumphant cry, I sprung . forward to seize
him. j
But at that instant, while the woman was
uttering a loud shriek and turning to fly,
a tall, muffled man suddenly started from
a tree directly b9tween me and my in
tended captive, and I received from him a
stunning blow between the eyes that laid
me senseless on my back.
I recovered consciousness in leBS than
five minutes as was afterward ascertained
and struggled into a sitting posture, to
find myself alone among? the bushes at the
mouth of the drain. I felt a sickening
sensation ab( ut !the head, but otherwise
vigorous, though,; in struggling to gain my
feet, I found the sleeve of one arm unac
countably . fastened to a loose log against
which I had partly fallen.
Further examination proved it to be
pinned there by a bowie-knife, whose blade
had been driven through the sleeve and
into the wood by a vigorous blow, and
around whose hilt was twisted a slip of
paper.
I disengaged nry aim with some diffi
culty, satisfied -tayself that I was not
wounded, and then, lighting a match and a
piece of newspaper that I had about me, I
proceeded to examine the knife and the
paper attached to it. It was a murderous
clasp-knife, of the bowie variety, appar
ently brand new, and with a broad, heavy
blade about sii inches long The paper
Attached to it seemed to have been torn
from an account-book, as there were some
carefully arranged figures in - red ink upon
one side. On the other side, scrawled with
lead pencil, were the following hurried
words:
Take warning in time, and leave the affair of
The Aspens to more interested and less expe
perienced hands than yours. If my dagger
carries a second warning, it will bo written on
your heart. De Maechmont.
- Somewhat shocked as well as puzzled
for it stood to reason that my life had been
spared where it might easily have been
taken I secured I both knife and missive,
and then got upon my feet, but little the
worse for my mishap. I even assured my
self that th stunni g blow I had received
had occasioned neither the drawing of
blood nor any considerable inflammation,
directly between! the eyes, from which I
judged that it had been dealt by a sand
bag, dexterously j delivered, one of whose
peculiarities is often to cause a stunning
efl'ect without leaving a mark.
Then 1 began to look about me.' I was
entirely alone in the wild vacant space, the
woman haUng evidently fled at the first in
timation of my presence, my assailant hav
ing also as evidently taken himself off after
disposing of me, while, as for the tramp
(who, of course, it was out of the ques
tion to longer confound with De March
mont himself), I was pretty certa n that I
had seen him dirt into the cavernous
mouth of the dram just at the momeut
that I was so unexpectedly overpowered.
I now advanced to the mouth of this,
drain, lighting another piece of paper to
do so. j
It was a round tunnel of rough masonry,"
half underground and half out, which had
its beginning, or! break-off, in the center
of the sunken lot that it had once, per
haps, entirely traversed, before falling into
crisuse. From this point it ran ont directly
under the raised street, on the other side of
which The Spider was situated, and with
the foundations of which it might have
communicated. It was tall enough for a
man to penetrate it in a bent attitude; the
rough walls were damp and unwholesome
in places, and the bottom unevenly covered
with mud or dry earth, mixed up with loose
sticks and stones. 1
"So far, so good," I muttered, lighting a
fresh newspaper as the first burnt itself
out. "Now to see if my runaway tramp
can have utilized this underground passage
for communicating with The Spider itself."
Collecting and bunching a bundle of dry
sticks, I soon had a more effective torch at
my sei-v ce than flaring newspapers. Hold
ing this over my head and a little in ad
vance, I at once proceeded to plunge
deeper into the passage, at the same time
not neglecting to grasp my cocked revolver
in the other hand, for I had no notion of
being-taken unawares again, either before
or behind. j
iai I had not penetrated a dozen pace3
into the tunnel before I made up my mind
that no human being could ever, in its then
condition, have successfully traversed it
from end to end. In the first place, I was
gradually assailed by an unaccountable
smell of sulphur, as from a recent bonfire
of lucifer matches, that grew stronger and
more insupportable at every step, and then
large numbers of rats began to run over
my feet and scamper about in every direc
tion. I hesitated to advance further, and
then, dividing my torch into two parts, I
cast one of the blazing fragments far ahead
into the gloomy recesses. ( It revealed
myriads of rats, literally covering the walls,
heaping the corners, and either running
hither and thither, or regarding me menac
ingly, I hungrily, with their villainously
black, lead-like eyes.
Thoroughly satisfied that no man could
ever have passed through those loathsome,
eager masses without being devoured, even
if he had been able to withstand the stalling
effects of those mysterious sulphur fumes,
I lost no time in beating a rgtreat.
Once more reaching the ppen air, I threw
away my torch and hurried up to a level of
the street. A bright light was still burning
in The Spider, and, not wishing to go on
without investigating the place once more
i entered tne place and called for some
thing to drink at the bar.
Mr. Bapsey himself was in attendance,
assisted by a little boy whom I had never
seen before, and both rooms of the place
were occupied by drinkers, rough, unsuspicious-looking
workingmen for the most
part, such as are usually the main support
of resorts of that kind. I studied the bar
tender's bronzed, wearied-looking face for
some time, but without detecting any par
ticular resemblance between it and that of
the tramp, for, to tell the truth, a suspicion
of their being one and the same had more
than once crossed my mind, iie even rec
ognized me. and presently began to ques
tion me so innocently about the strange
events j he , had witnessed at The Aspens
during the afternoon, on the occasion, of
the sudden irruption there of Doc and mv
sen, as to further quiet any distrust" I
might have had concerning him.
I put a few questions to him in relation
to the business with -Jocelyn that had
called him to The Aspens, without eliciting
fled once more, continued on my way.
i ! Fto be continued.)
RELIGIOUS READING.
The Sovereign Will.'
A man's heart deviseth his way but
the
Lord directeth his steps. Prov. 21:1.
A plan is in this life of mine
Despite its sun and wrong;
Beyond my will a hand divine
Hath led my steps along,
IVe'travelled oft a thorny way
Which couldn't refuse,
But mercies followed, day by day,
More than my heart coul I choo30.
Man's pride in youth hath oft proposed
Which way hi course should tend,
To find a sovereign will disposed
The journy and the tn 1.
Man's way, I find, is not in man
To order and control !,
There lies abovo his partial pla i
A Jarg r, grander whole.
Learn thou, my soul, without dpbate,
Gqd's vo cj and hand to heed;
In faith to labor and to wait, i
Con ent to let him lead.
A Wortl for the Season.'
April, and the time of secd-sow-
It IS
ing.
Eiit the agriculturist who now is
putting his seed into th? field is not ex
pecting an immediate harvest, but one
only in I due time. The seed must
geraninate ; it must grow into a plant;
the plant mast be cultivated. Then at
last is the fruitage and the gathering.
It is a go id deal so in spiritual hus
bandry. There must be time for the
ripening of the grain of the kingdom.
We are sometimes tempted, because
we cannot gather fru't immediately
upon the planting, to neglect the plant
ing. Of course it is gratifying when
results follow at once upon such labor.
But this is not always, perhaps not gen
erally, the case. The parent does not
see immediate results from his
watchful and faithful; train
ing of his , child, hc Sab
bath school, teacher docs nof have the
joy of beholding his scholars at once
brought to Christ. What pastor is there
who sees all his congregation turning to
CO'l? And yet parent and teacher and
pastor must push on their work dili
gently and faithfully.
Every season in spiritual husbandry is
a time lor sesd-sowing. We can always
be ! scattering the "good seed of the
kingdom." But in tho ordering of di
vine providence not every season is a
time of ingathering. Wc must sow the
seed-in faith, and then in faith we must
wait till the harvest-time appears. Only
let us be faithful iu the seed-spwing.
"He that goeth forth and weepeth, bear
ing precious seed, shall doubtless come
again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves
with him." American ilesfcnger. .
: The Question of the Age.
Various opinions arc expressed as to
what is ''the great question of the age."
One may speak of foreign missions,
another of home evangelization, another
of temperance, and another, perhaps, of
Christian union. A thoughtful and ob
serving writer, however, has said that
the great question of the day is, ''How
to reach the church membership with
the gospel of Christ that is, to make
"the entire church feel the full power of
the gospel and cherish and live up to its
full spirit in their daily life and conduct.
The great mass of our church mem
bers are outwardly moral and correct al
so iu their theoretical belief. And many
of them are devoted in heart and life to
the service ofthe Master, mo-e, perhaps,
than in almost any previous age. But,
alas, how little of deep spirituality and
self-denial and earnest and prayful effort
to4bring others to Christ! How large a
number of the male membership of our
churches are never seen in the prayer
meeting! How few speak to the impeni
tent on the great subject of personal sal
vation, seeking continually, like Harlan
Page, to win men to ChfistT How many
neglect the worship of God in the family
and give almost nothing to the great
causes of benevolence, and, in a word, so
live that no one would take them for
church members but that now and then
they are seen at the communion table !
Is there not truth, and what ought to
be felt as startling truth, in th-3 manifest
fact that so many in the church are fall
ing in with worldly influences and fash
ions, rather than overcoming such in
fluences by the Spirit of Christ ; that, as
some one has said, "The church is ma
terialistic, rather than truly spiritual;
rationalistic, rather than fully believing;
self-indulgent, rather than self-denying"
in the cause of the Master and for the
good of men! Is it not true, as the ven
erable ex-President Hopkins has said,
"that the essential- inherence of self-de
nial iih the Christian system is a doctrine
that hvas faded or is fading out from the
consciousness of the Christian church,"
and thatso many are satisfied with sing
ing, "Hold the forV' and, "Here, Lord,
I give myself away," whi'othey still live
on very much as the world lives, giving
but faint evidence that the Spirit of
Christ is the controlling spirit of their
lives?
' The avenues of usefulness are more
numerous and more widely open than
ever before, and our missionary and tract
and Bible societies are doing a great
and glorious work for the salvation of
men. And if the entire church would
but rise superior to worldly imfluences,
and in the spirit of Christ devote them
selves to doing his work the wide world
might soon be brought to the Saviour'a
feet. ' .
TEMPERANCE.
Strength, Beauty and Gladness.
Oh! doweIsbTfor beauty?
What makes the flowers bloom
What sprinkles all their loveliness
With varied sweet perfume?
The dew that creeps at evening's close,
The pearly raindrops bring
The perfume and the beauty
That glad the bowers of spring. ,
Is strength the gift we long for?
What rears the proud oak's form,
Whose brawny arms brave sturdily
The tempest and the storm?
He quaffs the pure, fresh moisture
' By rootlet and by leaf,
And stands up in his greatness,
That stout old forest chief.
Oh! do we wish for gladness?
What makes the wild birds sing?
Their drink is but the running brook,
The flower-clad crystal spring.
Then do we wish for beauty,
That mirth and strength be ours?
Our drink should be the heaven-sent drink
Of birds, and trees, and flowers.
G.Lawson.
Dangers of Alcohol.
In a recent, lecture beforehis class, Dr.
William Tod Helmuth, of New York,
said : Now shall I tell you what, in my
opinion,has blightedtmore brilliant minds
in the profession than anything else?
What has wrecked the high hopes and
noble aspirations of hundreds of bright
men, such as you arc? It is alcohol! I need
not enter here upon the physiological ques
tion as to action of alcohol as food or in
diseaser In my opinion, especially in
surgical practice, it is necessary; what
I refer to now i3 the use of alcohol as a
beverage, as a stimulant taken by healthy
young men to excite their nervous
systems. Let me illustrate this to the
point. Every man and woman in this
assemblage I am sure knows of some
friend, some relative, some one perhaps
near and dear-to them, whose lives have
been sacrificed to alcohol. Fix such ah
one in your mind and ask yourselves the
question, what was the character and
temperament of that 'man? Was he a
fool, a dunce, a man whose mind worked
slowly, whose perceptions were obtuse,
whose intellect was plodding, whose
affections were cold? Oh, no! It was
the bright boy, the loving lad, the youth
at the head of his class, the boy who loved
his mother, whose capacities of mind
were large, whose heart was big, whose
aspirations were high, the idol of his
household, the admiration of his friends
who allowed this monster to take out of
him all that was good and honest and true
and noble and brave in life's battle ; that
smothered his morality,, killed his mind,
diseased his body and sent him, perhaps
disgraced, to a premature grave, or, what
is ten thousand times more deplorable,
made him an outcast and a wanderer on
the face of the earth.
Tihcrc is a predisposition, and perhaps
an hereditary tendency to alcoholism, that
renders alcohol dangerous to tempera
ments such as I have described, and when
wc remember that nearly eight-tenths of
all the crimes that are committed in this
country can be attributed either directly
or indirectly to strong drink, and when
you are made aware of the seductive na
ture of the habit, you will see that to
some alcohol is the rankest of all poisons,
the very banc of existence, the smotherer"
of all manly sentiment, the desolator of
home, the ruiner of reputation, the father
of poverty and shame, a disease-producer
and a soul-destroyer. And you will agree
with me when I say to you that such ab
stinence is far easier than temperance
the former being possible, the latter alto
gether impossible. If you desire any
proof of such assertions, look around this
great city to-day and you will find con
clusive evidence of every word I speak.
Carrying His Illustration Farther
Than He Intended.
Writing of the late Hon. Henry B.
Stanton, his wife, Mrs. Elizabeth .Cady
Stanton, gives the following incident in
connection with one of his temperance
addresses :
"When spsaking before an audience,
he was very quick, to turn to account
any unexpected occurrence. On one
occasion he was delivering a temperance
lecture on a platform covered by a thick
oilcloth that protruded two or three
inches over the edge of the boards in
front. In he midst of one of his most
eloquent passages he was comparing the
inebriate's downward course to the falls
of Niagara, and the straggle with drink
to the hopeless efforts of a man in the
rapids. Just as he reached, in his
discription, the .fatal plunge over the
precipice, he advanced to the edge of
the platform, the oilcloth gave way un
der his feet, and in an instant he went
down headlong into the audience, carry,
ing with' him desk, glass, pitcher, and
water. Being light and agile, he was
quickly on the platform again, and
immediately remarked with great cool
ness: I carried my illustration farther
than I had intended to. Yet even so it
is that the drunkard falls, glass in hand,
carrying destruction with him. But not
sol readily does he rise again from the
terrible depth into which he has pre
cipitated himself.' The whole house
cheered again and again, and ever.Gough
never struck a more . powerful blow for
temperance." . . "(
INDIA'S ARMY.
GREAT BRITAIN'S PICTURESQUE
NATIVE TROOPS.
Strength of the Indian Army
The Bengal Cavalry Warlike
Goorkhas-Ijovo of Pomp
A Recruit's Oath.
Singular as it may appear, the enor
mous size of the Indian Empire, her vast
population and her magnificent resources
are but little known to ordinary English
men. It is only the men serving in Ilin
dostan who realize her power, and who
can appreciate the fact that the total
strength of the Bengal, Madras and Bom
bay native armies is about 125,000 men,
just half what it was in the company's
latter days. But this total represents
only a small fraction of the available
force of the great Indian Satrapy. The
entire population of the peninsula, ac
coidinsr to a late census, was a trifle
I under 240,000,000 souls, of whom a little
less than 191,000,000 come under British
administration. The male population of.
British India amounts to 98,000,000, and
J 00,000,000 of them, it is.. fair to say,'
r would make good food for powder.
I lie bulk of the Indian army is com
posed of various Hindoo tribes, while'the
Mohammedans prefer the cavalry branch
of the service. The Sikhs are among the
most warlike components of the. native
army, and, in proportion to their total,
furnish a larger contingent to the army
than any of the other religions. The na
tive Christians form the bands attached
to the various regiments, while the. Jews,
Jains, Buddhists . and Parsccs never vol
unteer. .Thus it will be seen that the
majority of enlistments in the native
army arc Hindoo; and upon this class
will devolve at some future day, the task,
of defending the integrity of the British
Empire.
It would be beyond the limits of this
article to enter into a detailed description
Df the various establishments of the In
dian army, but let it sutlicc to 'state that
64,000 men belong to the Bengal army,
34,000 to Madras and 27,000 to Bombay.
The Bengal establishment, properly
speaking, , is the flower of the Indian
army. Here can be found the stalwart
Sikh, the Puritan Hiseotcrs of India,
Monotheists and Iconoclasts, abhorrers of
the pig and despisers of the cow. In
their impartial hatred of Hindoo and
Moslem lies the secret of . their loyalty to
the British liaj. Under Generals like
Avitabilc add Ventura they beat the Eng
lish to a standstill at Fcrozcshur and
Chillianwalla, and years afterward they .
BKNGAI CAVALnY.
enthusiastically followed the gallant Nich
olson from the Sutlcj to the Jumna and
helped to replace the British standard on
the walls of Delhi. Here also can be seen
the Goorkha, the Rajput, the Jat and the
Pathan.
Picturesquely speaking, too, the Ben
gal army is a study. Where can be
found men who better convey the im
pression of the beau ideal of soldiers than
in this establishment? The Punjabi is a
born soldier. The history of the band of
Five Waters is a record of war and de
vastation. It is the Punjabi who has
been the buffer for Lower India against
the tempestuous assaults of the depreda
tory Afghan. He is, however, averse to
serving in the foot regiments, and, like
the Pathans, enters -readily the cavalry
regiments. Thcyarc" brave, hardy and
warlike, but somewhat difficult to con
trol. A Bensral cavalryman is a nicture.
These men, literally speaking, have been
born on horseback. From their infancy
they have been among horses, and their
women arc as much at their ease on a
horse as are the Gaucho women in Pata
gonia. The animals used in the cavalry
service average seventeen hands high and
arc bred on, the plains of northern Pun
jab, id the various Government studs
Scattered throughout that region.
rr3 . V . , . i- . . ....
i uc average ncigm oi a l'uujabi is a
trine over six feet, and his handsome
uniform sets off : t,o considerable ad
vantage his gracef ul figure. His head is
covered with a green and red turban,
which is protected by line steel chains
from sword cuts. .'. I lis tunic is also of a
dark green color, slashed with red, his
shoulders are also covered with steel
chains, he has huge yelloAv leather-gaunt-lcts,
loose-fitting yellow trousers, and his
feet and calf, as far as the knee, are in
cased in big boots. His weapons consist
of pistols, sword and lancc Naturally
an athletic race, they delight in all manly
sports, and the parade ground is the
scene of many a joust. A Punjabi with
out a horse is but a poor creature. lie
may, dismounted, take part in a tug of
war, ' or where brute strength is only
necessary, but to display his skill with
lance or sword, he must be mounted.
Then he can show the daring manage
ment of his horse. He will pick up a
handkerchief from the ground, slice
with his sharp tulivar an orange in half,
split a tent peg with his lance, or will
engage in combat with a brother sowar,
irmed with a lance, while he will attack
Sh a sword. '
OnOOHKA OS MASCH.
The very antitype of the Punjabi is the
Ghoorka, whose, home is under the shad
ows of the Himalayas. This valiant tribe
maintained fnr n. nner time a fierce con
test against British superiority and were!
only subdued j after they had inflicted
more than one terrible disaster upon me
English arms. They are nominally Hin
doos. They dispatch their meals in half
an nour, merely, aoning me kuumu
J washing face and hands.. The Goorkha
is willling to carry several aays provis
ions, to which the Hindoo would object
under the pretense of losing caste. They
arc a yellow, ugly, squat, sturdy and ac
tive set of men, with great energy of
character and love of enterprise, absolute
ly fearless, adroit in the use of .rifle find
their national weapon, the kookril, a
curved, heavy-bladed knife. ' During the
Indian mutiny they were loyal, and 80,
000 of them came to British assistance,
armed with a rifle, kookril and an um
brella. Of their valor there is no ques
tion. . '.
Among the other foot regiments in the
BeDgal establishment, the one known as
the Khelat-i-Uhilzais must DC mcnuoncu,
as it shows the recklessness with which
recruiting is carried on in India. The
town of Khclat-i-Ghllzai, whence this
regiment takes its name, is eighty-eight
miles northeast'of Kandalbar. on the road
to Ghuzni and Kabul, and intermixed
mong this regimeut arc men belonging
to the frontier tribes in the Derayat and
the border of Beloochistan. There are
none in India who deny the ferocious
courage of this soldiery, their readiness
to fight and their endurance of hardship.
Reared in a country which is declared to
be the bleakest and coldest in all Afghan
istan, they are accustomed from their
earliest youth to deprivation, and to all
manly exercises, from the chasing of
dangerous beasts and the breaking in of
wild horses to the gentler pastime of
wrestling. The average Afghan looks
upon the killing of his fellow-creature as
no crime, for it enhances his reputation
among his kindred, whilst it makes of
him an object of dread to the men of
surrounding tribes. To the pursuit of
agriculture they have a distaste, as work
THIKTY-FinST PUNJAB INFANTRY.
being alone fit for women and children,
and their predatory instincts being some
what held in check by the presence of
English troops on the border, and India
no longer affording a luxurious field for
plunder, they have flocked to the English
standard in the, hope of fights and of
spoils. Their loyalty for Indian work is,
-however, doubtful.
Though the Bombay and Madras presi
dencies furnish valuable soldiers to the
army, yet on account of the enervating
influence of those countries, their regi
ments arc not as hardy as those of
Northern India, and are unfitted for
service in cold climates, as during the
last Afghan war the losses from cold
were greater than those from the enemy.
Nothing in India is ever done without
pomp. The Asiatic mind, like that of
children, is easily impressed with show,
therefore the recruiting of a native
soldier is made in the most ostentatious
manner. The ceremony takes place, in
the presence of the whole regiment,
formed up in three sides of a square, in
the center of which are the colors, borne
by two jemadars, or native lieutenants,
accompanied by a finnll boy, carrying a j
ar of water, which has been consecrated
y the priest. The recruits are marched
up to the colors, and the priest pours some
of the water into the right hand; with
the left hand the recruit holds the edge
KLEPHANTINE TRANSPORTATION.
of the colors, while the oath ot
allegiance is read in a loud voice by the
priest, j This oath, which each recruit
repeats, is to the following effect: "That
we will serve her Majesty or her heirs,
obey our superior oflicers, and go
whither we arc ordered, cither by land or
sea, as it may please her Majesty to com
mand us." After the oath the right hand
is raised, and the water, or what remains
of it, is poured over the turban of the
'.recruit. The ccremonv is concluded hv
the rendering of "God save the Queen." '
The Indian army, it will thus be seen,
promises good lighting material, "and,
when properly handled, would from its
numbers and discipline, provo no mean
foe. The backbone of the Indian army
is, however, the white face. No native
troops I could be relied upon unless
Officered by Englishmen. In times of peril
they lose their heads; they are impatient
of the control of their own men, and a
European boy could restore courage in an
Indian army and lead them to victory,
whilo the bravest veteran in their service
would be useless.
It is for the purpose of securing effi
cient officers that the Indian Government
gives so much encouragement to the
mastery of the Hiridostani languages.
Examinations are held in Hindustani,
Arabic,! Assamese, Bengale, Burmese,
V
Guzerati, Kanarcsc, Mahratti
lum, uonya, rcrsian; . i'un hil.i
Tl . '
Runskiit. Iindil Tamil n '.'.''llt
' ' . J'Hi ir
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51 cd
elhciency in uicko various ton
Francisco Chronicle,
'ICS.-
Tlic New 'Commissioner
We give herewith a pyit
of IV
ii
of
Hall, of Jiuriinglon, I
been appointed Commissions, df i.., hl
o vv
in place of Colonel M. V. Mrnt.. nt
resigned.
Mr. Hall was born at .Mount YTCL
Ohio, January l'S, 1833. His home: U
been in Iowa sincc 1830. He was edta.
cated at Kndx College, IHiru. amj
Miami;Universitv, Ohio. In June,;
he was graduated from the last named j,l
stilutidn. Returning to Burlington
read law in his fathers office, and.
admitted to the bar after two
Since 1857 he bins been in j)ia(ii K
Burlington, .of which place he is a proa,
incnt citizen. '
The new Commissioner of Patents
gan a career of public service with rfleffl.
bership in the lower house of the (iencrj;
Assembly of Iowa, for JH7-2-73. Ue.4
ning iri January; 1882, lie was 'a Sute
Senator for four years. I Ic wa rl t
to the Forty-ninth Congress on tlip Db
ocratic ticket, and served his term an
member of the! House of Representative
Ex-Governor yohn II. Gear was his sUc.
cessful opponent last fall, when Mr. IU,
was a candidate .for re-elect ion to Con
gress. ,
Mr. Hall is a strongly built man of m
dium height. He carries his tifty-jw.
years well, his dark brown hair and has
tache as yct scarcely showing the snm
effects of time. .fi.
A Que Guard.
' "Mclican boy cantec pnllv my
taily cnly mloie." Judge. I
r
A Prompt lufcienec.
What's the trouble here. Mickey?"
"Don't you know? Thrres are
car tie-up,"
' . " Oh, I see. That's why so imnrjw
pie are standing around Tn knots.
adeljJu'a Call. 1
A Peculiar Tiecc of IJrount"
A few miles from Mackinaw. IU.,
curious piece of ground, nearly an acn
in extent, which iso warm that thesnoj
melts as soon as it falls upon J1
though the surrounding country may
buried iu deep drifts, hU .pei-uliaf J
rcmainsbarc throughout the winter. !"
earth there is so dry that it is said to lw
like powder when disturbed, and a pecu
liar gas issues fronvthc gTound,whien.jj
thus far shattered, every vessel in irbicfc'
Is confined.
A Tig Born IVithont a JlM-
Mr. J. Ogdcn, . of Jamestown. Dako
has a natural curiosity in the slu'F ofl
pig which came into the world beadles
and hairless, but with a horn sti kin?
from the end of its neck like the tu-k
an infant rhinoceros. Its feet arc .1
the hoofs of ahorse, and there a h"3?
sticking out from its back, whuli iff
posed to be the missing head. The, pr
has one eye. It lived for a week and ,
apparently hearty, but isnow preserve
in alcohol.
Making both ends meet. 3 'id-l
yfoyV J 4 xra
t
Accomplished at I-at.
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