Centipedes Moving North.
The department of agriculture has made a study of the house centipede which of late has spread from the Southern States to a number of Northern States, and has issued a bulletin in which some of its characteristics are set forth. It thrives in most places and devours various house pests, such as moths, roaches, flies, probably even bedbugs, and others. It does not injure household goods, woolens, et cetera, as is commonly supposed. Its bite is somewhat poisonous, but it seldom bites human beings except in self-defense. Prompt dressing with ammonia is recommended as the best remedy for the bites.
Biggest Lemon Is in Jersey.
Mrs. Henry H. Bull, of Sparta, N. J., is exhibiting a lemon said to be the largest ever raised in a hothouse in this section of the country. The lemon measures thirteen inches in circumference, is eight inches in length, and weighs four pounds. It took one year from the time the tree blossomed until the lemon was ripe. The trees is five years old.
Fat Girl Passenger Stops Railway Traffic.
Traffic on the New York Central line was delayed twenty minutes when Anna Chelton, Oil City’s fat girl, weighing more than 700 pounds, departed to join a circus.
Half a dozen men transported her in a specially made wheel chair to the baggage car, and when a transfer was made at Andover, Pa., the car was detached and shifted to the freight depot. Later the baggage car of the second train was shifted to the depot, and the weighty damsel placed in it. The train was held until the crew made the transfer.
Carnegie Medal Is Well Won by Boy.
The stuff they mold heroes of cropped out at Dothan, Ala., one spring morning. Now Henry T. Matthews, a youngster of that city, is wearing a bronze medal presented by Andrew Carnegie for a remarkable deed of valor committed with such modesty as would almost suggest indifference. Newspapers throughout the State are now presenting the youth’s name as a new representative of Alabama in the select few the Carnegie commission chooses to call heroes. It all came about something like this:
Little Benjamin Grant, son of B. J. Grant, Dothan banker, and several other playmates, whose ages averaged about the three-year mark, had slipped from their nurses who chatted in the sunshine and were enjoying the fine spring morning away up under the Grant residence, digging trenches, making frog houses, tunnels, and such things and getting their fresh linen just as dirty as they shouldn’t. Suddenly Benjamin disappeared, right before the eyes of his mystified young friends. It was as if the earth had swallowed him up.
The fair-haired tot had slipped into a deserted bored well, hid up under the house for so long that no one ever remembered when it had been dug, when it had been used, or when it had been deserted and covered{63} up by the building. Moreover, no one happened to know how deep it was, as was later learned, and with these thoughts rushing through her frightened brain the nurse girl in charge of little Ben prepared to inform the child’s mother that her son was somewhere below earth, in a darkened, unknown hole.
The alarm spread with a swiftness hardly believable. Within a few minutes every woman in the neighborhood and every man who might be located sitting about home during the busy part of the morning had rushed to the scene.
The hole into which the boy had fallen was not large enough to carry light more than a few feet; no man in a thousand could squeeze his shoulders into the opening. To be exact, it measured thirteen inches in diameter, as a later measurement showed.
Several men gazed into the blackness of the hole and gazed back again, their faces pale, their eyes wide with a helplessness that brought on an uncanny fright, even in the hearts of the strongest.
Some suggested a rope, others thought of hooks, and some said dig a tunnel. All soon agreed, however, that none of the plans of rescue could be carried out, for a three-year-old boy would never be expected to grab a rope to be pulled through yards and yards of a bored well; iron hooks might tear the baby to pieces while rescuers knelt and heard his cries in vain, and a tunnel to the distance where his cries indicated he had fallen would certainly mean a fatal cave-in.
Suggestions that some person be lowered had, of course, been advanced long before, but had proven useless, for not one person in the great crowd could enter the small opening.
“Send out and get some boys,” shouted one of the directors of the work. The schools and their numerous offerings of all sizes and ages of lads came first into the minds of the volunteer hunters. Two automobiles rushed to a school less than three blocks away.
“We want the nerviest, bravest kids you’ve got in the building,” said a member of the party to the superintendent. “Give us some small ones, who are not afraid.”
The boys arrived. One by one they crept under the house; one by one they looked into the blackness of the hole, and one by one they drew back again. Their eyes glared and they soon became members of the back row of spectators.
Then Henry Matthews came up. He rode into the edge of the crowd on his bicycle, upon which he carried clothes for a tailor, to support his widowed mother.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired meekly. Some one broke the uncanny quietness for a moment and told him.
“Here’s another kid; try him,” whispered a man to the would-be rescuers who had grown despondent. Henry walked forward. They told him what it meant to go headfirst for perhaps twenty or thirty feet downward.
“Let me down,” said the frail boy quietly.
His feet were securely tied with a heavy rope. An electric light with an extension cord was placed in his hand. The boy gazed slowly about the peering faces and shoved his pale face into the blackness. Down he went, inch by inch, and then foot by foot. The rope disappeared, behind him for one yard, two yards, then{64} three, four, five, and six yards. He was still going down, and the light had disappeared in the blackness. The rope must have gone forty feet, thought the men at the other end of the line. Then:
“Pull,” came the faint command from down in the ground. The men at the other end smiled with eagerness as they carefully drew on the line. Then they looked at each other in excited expectation, for the load on the rope was heavier than when Harry descended.
Ten feet of the rope had been pulled to the surface, when the men’s faces changed. Their eyes again filled with fright. Quickly they drew on the line, and soon Henry, his body covered with mud, sticks, and rubbish, appeared alone. They gave him water, fanned him for a second, and his pale face began to show faint color again. Then he spoke.
“I pulled him about ten feet,” he panted, “but his hands—his hands—were so slick—the mud came off and he dropped back. He was on some sticks—sticks caught in the well—when I found him—I’m afraid he fell back through them. If he did, we can’t get him.”
Bennie’s mother fainted and was carried away. Other women, screamed and rushed about blindly. Bennie’s voice was getting fainter. Old men cried—men whose hearts had faced everything from the trials of the Civil War to modern troubles.
“Let me down again,” said the brave young rescuer, as he rubbed his face, as if to awaken to his undertaking.
Again his face disappeared, then his body, and then his feet. On and on he went down. Thirty-five feet of the grass rope had disappeared when the order to “pull” was heard far off. Anxiously, and with, less hope than before, the men pulled. The line was heavier as they pulled, foot after foot, above the surface.
The crying of a baby was heard down in the ground. The larger boy’s feet appeared at the top; then his body, and then his face.
Then—little Bennie, clasped by each wrist by a pair of muddy hands, appeared on earth again.
The women screamed and cried for the hundredth time that morning. The men, or rather, most of them, wept and then cheered. Now everybody cheered, and hundreds of voices let everybody within a block know that the romper-clad boy was in his mother’s arms. They also let those about know that Henry had emerged from beneath the house with eyes, hair, hands, and clothing covered with mud. They grabbed him; women kissed him, and men crowded about the boy.
“Haven’t got time to stop now,” said Henry. “Got to get back to the shop.” And he hurriedly washed the dirt from his face. But they wouldn’t let him go. They surged about the wondering lad and held him for a while, or at least until the praising crowds could press fifty dollars into his bread-earning little hands. Then he turned, jumped upon his bicycle, and rode speedily away, to deliver the clothes for the tailor, for the support of himself and his widowed mother.
Two Years on Their Honeymoon Walk.
Journeys across the continent twice on foot within a period of two years marked the unique honeymoon trip taken by Mr. and Mrs. John Broxman, of near Harris{65}burg, Pa., who arrived in Baltimore, Md., a few days ago, and who, for just two hours, were the guests of Mrs. C. C. Webber, wife of the pastor of the Emmanuel Evangelical Church, Greene Street, near Lombard.
In the twenty-four months that they have been away the young married couple have traversed the parched sands of the semitropical countries of the South, the fertile valleys of the Middle West, and the rugged mountain paths of the Far Western States. They are happy, and have returned to their homes without reporting a mishap.
In making their long journey on foot, Mr. and Mrs. Broxman have won both fame and fortune, for not only were they cordially welcomed in all the towns and cities through which they passed, but as the result of their long hike they have been presented with a huge sum of money by a brother-in-law of Mrs. Broxman in California, and henceforth they will make their home on a farm which has been purchased by the bridegroom near Harrisburg.
Mr. and Mrs. Broxman strolled into Baltimore unnoticed, and sought acquaintances whom they had known years ago. In their search for their friends they drifted into the neighborhood of Greene and Lombard Streets and dropped into the parsonage of the Emmanuel Evangelical Church in order to get directions as to streets and house numbers. Mrs. Webber happened to be at home, and invited the strangers in. She could not aid them in their quest for the Baltimore friends, but she did entertain them the greater part of the afternoon, and while enjoying the hospitality of her home, the young people told of their unique honeymoon trip.
Mr. and Mrs. Broxman were married two years ago, and had planned to spend their honeymoon quietly in the East. But Mrs. Broxman’s brother-in-law in Santa Ana, Cal., told them that he would present them with a substantial sum of money if they would take as their honeymoon trip a “stroll” from Harrisburg to California and back again. They decided to try and win the prize held out to them, so immediately after the wedding ceremony was performed, they started on their long hike.
From Baltimore the young couple went to Harrisburg.
Dogs Have Acquired the Art of Speech.
In a previous issue we briefly described a dog named Woodrow Wilson that was said to be able to utter sounds which distinctly resemble words. The dog is a bull terrier and was named Woodrow Wilson because on the day of President Wilson’s inauguration he wandered into the home of Miss Rose Bonn, of Scottsdale, Pa., his present owner.
He does such feats in “talking” that he is the wonder of the town. He answers questions promptly and correctly. For instance, when he is asked “Whom do you love?” he promptly replies, “My mamma.”
Woodrow Wilson may be a remarkable dog, but there have been other talking dogs brought to the attention of the public during the last decade, says a writer who has made note of them. There was Cutey! Did you ever hear of her? Well, her owner was positive she could speak, and many of his friends were willing to corroborate his enthusiastic statements.
Cutey’s ability as a talking dog was brought to the{66} attention of the public in a peculiar way. A small boy was playing with a ball in East Fourteenth Street, New York, one afternoon when a fox terrier strolled along and stopped to watch the boy. Greatly to the boy’s astonishment the dog suddenly said: “I want my rights.”
It did not take long for the boy to spread the news about the talking dog, and finally it reached the newspapers. A reporter was sent to see the owner of the dog, Fred Jackson, of 241 East Fourteenth Street. Although the reporter was skeptical when he entered Cutey’s home, he emerged convinced that if the dog did not speak, she made a pretty good attempt.
It took Cutey’s owner three months to teach her how to say “I want my rights.” He got the idea from observing the dog trying to repeat things that were said to her. It was also asserted by neighbors that Cutey was able to say “I will not” and “Good night, everybody.”
A dog named Rolf attracted much attention in Berlin because of his power to utter sounds which could be distinguished as words. This dog not only could speak, but he could spell. In fact, he attracted so much attention that Professor Claparede, of the department of experimental psychology of the University of Geneva examined the dog and pronounced him a wonder.
The professor, in order to avoid collusion between the dog and his mistress, brought a set of pictures along with him which the dog had never seen. One of the pictures showed four mice nibbling at cheese. Without any hesitation the dog spelled out words which convinced Professor Claparede that Rolf knew what the picture was.
Not long ago the police of Philadelphia made what they considered an important capture in the form of a dog who was in league with a band of thieves. While this animal did some petty thieving on his own account, he was valuable to the thieves because of his ability to “talk” to them whenever he saw policemen approaching. His “talk” consisted of short barks, which the thieves understood perfectly.
Although the police were suspicious of the owners of the dog, they could never catch them in the act. Finally it dawned on them that the dog had been trained to run up and down before places which were being robbed. The police then decided to watch the dog, and, swooping down suddenly one night on the four-footed “lookout,” they caught the thieves at work.
There lived in Cranford, N. J., a dog which could not only “talk” but read a newspaper as well. The dog, whose name was Throgs, was the property of Miss Alice Lakey, of the New Jersey State Food Commission, and had the regular job of going to the newspaper store every morning for the family paper. He carried the coin wrapped up in a paper, gave it to the news dealer, got his paper, and returned home with it in his mouth.
One morning the regular news dealer was not present at the stand, but another person in the store slipped a paper into Throgs’ mouth. The dog walked slowly out of the store to the other side of the street, where he dropped the paper and then thoroughly scrutinized it. Convinced that it was not the paper he was in the habit of getting, he sat down and waited until the news dealer returned. Then he walked back to the store, got his regular paper, and trotted home with it.
The Nick Carter Stories
ISSUED EVERY SATURDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS
When it comes to detective stories worth while, the Nick Carter Stories contain the only ones that should be considered. They are not overdrawn tales of bloodshed. They rather show the working of one of the finest minds ever conceived by a writer. The name of Nick Carter is familiar all over the world, for the stories of his adventures may be read in twenty languages. No other stories have withstood the severe test of time so well as those contained in the Nick Carter Stories. It proves conclusively that they are the best. We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print. You can have your news dealer order them, or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in money or postage stamps.{69}
704—Written in Red.
707—Rogues of the Air.
709—The Bolt from the Blue.
710—The Stockbridge Affair.
711—A Secret from the Past.
712—Playing the Last Hand.
713—A Slick Article.
714—The Taxicab Riddle.
717—The Master Rogue’s Alibi.
719—The Dead Letter.
720—The Allerton Millions.
728—The Mummy’s Head.
729—The Statue Clue.
730—The Torn Card.
731—Under Desperation’s Spur.
732—The Connecting Link.
733—The Abduction Syndicate.
736—The Toils of a Siren.
738—A Plot Within a Plot.
739—The Dead Accomplice.
741—The Green Scarab.
746—The Secret Entrance.
747—The Cavern Mystery.
748—The Disappearing Fortune.
749—A Voice from the Past.
752—The Spider’s Web.
753—The Man With a Crutch.
754—The Rajah’s Regalia.
755—Saved from Death.
756—The Man Inside.
757—Out for Vengeance.
758—The Poisons of Exili.
759—The Antique Vial.
760—The House of Slumber.
761—A Double Identity.
762—“The Mocker’s” Stratagem.
763—The Man that Came Back.
764—The Tracks in the Snow.
765—The Babbington Case.
766—The Masters of Millions.
767—The Blue Stain.
768—The Lost Clew.
770—The Turn of a Card.
771—A Message in the Dust.
772—A Royal Flush.
774—The Great Buddha Beryl.
775—The Vanishing Heiress.
776—The Unfinished Letter.
777—A Difficult Trail.
782—A Woman’s Stratagem.
783—The Cliff Castle Affair.
784—A Prisoner of the Tomb.
785—A Resourceful Foe.
789—The Great Hotel Tragedies.
795—Zanoni, the Transfigured.
796—The Lure of Gold.
797—The Man With a Chest.
798—A Shadowed Life.
799—The Secret Agent.
800—A Plot for a Crown.
801—The Red Button.
802—Up Against It.
803—The Gold Certificate.
804—Jack Wise’s Hurry Call.
805—Nick Carter’s Ocean Chase.
807—Nick Carter’s Advertisement.
808—The Kregoff Necklace.
811—Nick Carter and the Nihilists.
812—Nick Carter and the Convict Gang.
813—Nick Carter and the Guilty Governor.
814—The Triangled Coin.
815—Ninety-nine—and One.
816—Coin Number 77.
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NEW SERIES
NICK CARTER STORIES
1—The Man from Nowhere.
2—The Face at the Window.
3—A Fight for a Million.
4—Nick Carter’s Land Office.
5—Nick Carter and the Professor.
6—Nick Carter as a Mill Hand.
7—A Single Clew.
8—The Emerald Snake.
9—The Currie Outfit.
10—Nick Carter and the Kidnaped Heiress.
11—Nick Carter Strikes Oil.
12—Nick Carter’s Hunt for a Treasure.
13—A Mystery of the Highway.
14—The Silent Passenger.
15—Jack Dreen’s Secret.
16—Nick Carter’s Pipe Line Case.
17—Nick Carter and the Gold Thieves.
18—Nick Carter’s Auto Chase.
19—The Corrigan Inheritance.
20—The Keen Eye of Denton.
21—The Spider’s Parlor.
22—Nick Carter’s Quick Guess.
23—Nick Carter and the Murderess.
24—Nick Carter and the Pay Car.
25—The Stolen Antique.
26—The Crook League.
27—An English Cracksman.
28—Nick Carter’s Still Hunt.
29—Nick Carter’s Electric Shock.
30—Nick Carter and the Stolen Duchess.
31—The Purple Spot.
32—The Stolen Groom.
33—The Inverted Cross.
34—Nick Carter and Keno McCall.
35—Nick Carter’s Death Trap.
36—Nick Carter’s Siamese Puzzle.
37—The Man Outside.
38—The Death Chamber.
39—The Wind and the Wire.
40—Nick Carter’s Three Cornered Chase.
41—Dazaar, the Arch-Fiend.
42—The Queen of the Seven.
43—Crossed Wires.
44—A Crimson Clew.
45—The Third Man.
46—The Sign of the Dagger.
47—The Devil Worshipers.
48—The Cross of Daggers.
49—At Risk of Life.
50—The Deeper Game.
51—The Code Message.
52—The Last of the Seven.
53—Ten-Ichi, the Wonderful.
54—The Secret Order of Associated Crooks.
55—The Golden Hair Clew.
56—Back From the Dead.
57—Through Dark Ways.
58—When Aces Were Trumps.
59—The Gambler’s Last Hand.
60—The Murder at Linden Fells.
61—A Game for Millions.
62—Under Cover.
63—The Last Call.
64—Mercedes Danton’s Double.
65—The Millionaire’s Nemesis.
66—A Princess of the Underworld.
67—The Crook’s Blind.
68—The Fatal Hour.
69—Blood Money.
70—A Queen of Her Kind.
71—Isabel Benton’s Trump Card.
72—A Princess of Hades.
{71}73—A Prince of Plotters.
74—The Crook’s Double.
75—For Life and Honor.
76—A Compact With Dazaar.
77—In the Shadow of Dazaar.
78—The Crime of a Money King.
79—Birds of Prey.
80—The Unknown Dead.
81—The Severed Hand.
82—The Terrible Game of Millions.
83—A Dead Man’s Power.
84—The Secrets of an Old House.
85—The Wolf Within.
86—The Yellow Coupon.
87—In the Toils.
88—The Stolen Radium.
89—A Crime in Paradise.
90—Behind Prison Bars.
91—The Blind Man’s Daughter.
92—On the Brink of Ruin.
93—Letter of Fire.
94—The $100,000 Kiss.
95—Outlaws of the Militia.
96—The Opium-Runners.
97—In Record Time.
98—The Wag-Nuk Clew.
99—The Middle Link.
100—The Crystal Maze.
101—A New Serpent in Eden.
102—The Auburn Sensation.
103—A Dying Chance.
104—The Gargoni Girdle.
105—Twice in Jeopardy.
106—The Ghost Launch.
107—Up in the Air.
108—The Girl Prisoner.
109—The Red Plague.
110—The Arson Trust.
111—The King of the Firebugs.
112—“Lifter’s” of the Lofts.
113—French Jimmie and His Forty Thieves.
114—Death Plot.
115—Evil Formula.
116—Blue Button.
117—Deadly Parallel.
118—The Vivisectionists.
119—The Stolen Brain.
120—An Uncanny Revenge.
121—The Call of Death.
122—The Suicide.
123—Half a Million Ransom.
124—The Girl Kidnaper.
125—The Pirate Yacht.
126—The Crime of the White Hand.
127—Found in the Jungle.
128—Six Men in a Loop.
129—The Jewels of Wat Chang.
130—The Crime in the Tower.
131—The Fatal Message.
132—Broken Bars.
133—Won by Magic.
134—The Secret of Shangore.
135—Straight to the Goal.
136—The Man They Held Back.
137—The Seal of Gijon.
138—The Traitors of the Tropics.
139—The Pressing Peril.
140—The Melting-Pot.
Dated May 22d, 1915.
141—The Duplicate Night.
Dated May 29th. 1915.
142—The Edge of a Crime.
Dated June 5th, 1915.
143—The Sultan’s Pearls.
Dated June 12th, 1915.
144—The Clew of the White Collar.
{72}
PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY. If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your news
dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money.
STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK CITY