VILLIAN3 IN OTHER LANDS.
(inini-a riarrt tn rfiiirl Peoala
fro:n Their Miner.
'Don't got It Into your mind that fill
the ciiniili'5 bmico games played on
credulous people to separate them from
their bank ron. are engineered by
Bl)rHT9 of tilt Anglo-Saxon nice." nld
Mr. George L. Maroncy. n Now Orleans
lawyer.
"JtiHt to the south of its. In the sister
n 'public across the Rio Grande, as
smooth specimens of the swindling
tribe are to be found as anywhere ex
ist. I have myself hern done In a
small wny In the City of Mexico by
having purchased birds of the most
gorgeous coloring, only to discover later
that the vendor had neatly assisted na
ture by using a paint brush to enhance
the splendor of his feathered stock.
That Is the reason you will see n Mex
ican bird peddler during n rain take
off his coat and cover his cages, pre
ferring to take n wetting himself to
having the pnlnt washed off the birds.
They even apply paint to the flowers
the.v sell to admiring strangers.
"There are also big scamps down
there who operate ou a sealc of magni
tude, as a certain New Orleans capital
ist can testify. About a year ago this
New Orleans man was approached by
ft very serene, elegantly dressed and
llno-looklng Mexican who bore good let
ters of Introduction. In eloquent tones
the visitor told of n large tract of land
In the Stnte of Con bulla that could be
bought, for one-fourth Its real value. It
would be worth some day not less than
$1,000,000 and could now be had for the
Ix'ggnrly amount of $:!00.00a All this
nud much more, and as an evidence of
good faith, the New Orleans man was
asked to go In person to see the prop
erty. "He listened and listening fell. To
be brief, he went, saw (lie tract, which
was finer and bigger than many a prin
cipality, and considered It dirt cheap
nt the price asked. The seller only
iisked $2.-.,000 cash and this the other
party put tip In association with a cou
ple of friends, who were let In on the.
L'ood thing. It was the grandest specu
lation of their lives.
"To-day three sorrowing and revenge
ful New Orleans men are hunting the
world over for a wily grenser, tawny
of skin and fluent of speech, who, In
the absence of the real owner In En
rope, sold them one; of the richest es
tates In the land of the Motitexuinas.
The titles, which he delivered to them,
as they subsequently found, were for
geries that called for some barren
mountainous sections that wouldn't
brlnr 6 cents an acre." Baltimore
American.
HOW TO STILL THE NERVES.
They May Be Calmed bjr Slleaee, Sol
itude and Sleep, Say One Writer.
In an article on "Nerves" published
In Harper's Bazaar the story Is told of
one of our noted scientists who went
to Dresden to consult the famous six
flutist for broken-down nerves. On
hearing his symptoms the great physi
cian snld Indifferently:
"Ach so? It Is probable that you
have yes, nil the gclehrtcn (learned)
have neurasthenia naturally." The rem
edy suggested was "Play golf and go to
Egypt."
Silence, solitude and sloop are the
sovereign remedies suggested for Jugged
nerves. Slight dally doses of the threo
"S's," it Is claimed, wilt prevent n ner
vous breakdown and may be obtained
bv con the most busy people. But "nil
the learned have neurasthenia" Is at
once a warning and a consolation to tin)
brain worker; to "drive the machluo"
with skill and care is the problem of
the successful American.
The writer of this article urges that
wo ought to thunk God that we beloug
, to the most nervous, restless, all per
vading race the world bas seen since
the days of Julius Caesar. It Is our
"nerves" that make us what we are.
Iaaoranla sad Alarm Clock.
The patient complained of insomnia.
"You must get an alarm clock at
once," said the physician.
The patient stared.
"I mean it What time do you
waken usually in the night?"
"Two o'clock lately."
"Set the alarm for fifteen mlnutct
before 2. As soon ns It strikes, get
up, dress for the day and take a walk,
of not less than two miles. Do not go
to bed again that day under any cir
cumstances, nor take a nap, even sit
ting in your chair.
"The next night set the alarm at a
quarter past 2. You will sleep until It
wakens you. Get up as before and
take another two mile walk.
"The third night you enn venture to
set your alarm at 3. Repeat the walk.
If you are not cured by that time, yoa
Mill be a more difficult case than any
I have had heretofore, but it the habit
of lying awake is not broken begin
back at 2 o'clock again and repeat"
New York Tress.
Very Carefal.
Consider now the bumble hen.
Whom oft we spurn,
She doesn't act like many men,
i As you shall learn.
No pardon dors She have to beg
For guesses made.
She never prophesies an egg
Until it's luid.
Washington Herald.
The Fierceness of Debate.
Campaign Adviser You think your
next sieeeh will make an Imprcsalont
Candidate I do.
Campaign Adviser Have you any
now arguments to place before your
opionei)tT
Candidate No; but I have a lot of
new names to call blui.
A us t her Authority.
Mr. Howe I suppose you hart
studied all the authorities on social and
economic questions? Mr. Wlao Not
... quite all. My daughter's graduation ca
nny Is not out yet. Lire.
And Katberf
"Yes, children," said the nuise, "the stork
lias brought you each a little brother."
"Oh, good 5" cried they, and craned theli
Play.
"Do let's all run and tell poor mother."
Smart Set i
Beware of tlio wan who Is alwaya
boasting of bis .family Jroe,,, lfa a
chestnut
I a m m m a m m m & a m a m m a a m m m m a m m
I w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w
: Aunt Diana :
:
The Sunshine
of the Family
CHAPTER V. (Continued.)
'Taps, dear, you will not go Into tht
Itudy to-nlglit," observed Mabel, In a
coaxing tone, ns Mr. Merle looked at the
door, as though he Intended to follow
Poppies example; "please come with ui
into the drawing room, and I will make
yo:i ho comfortable."
"Very well," was his good-humored r.n
swer, as lie got up a little wearily from
his clini'r.
Alison wailed a moment before she fol
lowed diem.
"Are you not rominir, too?" die asked,
as Roger threw himaelf down on an easy I
rhair.
Roger shook his head smilingly.
"Rudel hns got to do his lessons. Mis
tie never admits him Into the drawing
.'ooni of an evening. She says It Is not
the room for tsiys. I generally keep
Rudel company or go out and amuse my
self." "Hut not to-night, dear," she returned,
gently, and he got np at once.
Rndel looked up rather wistfully.
"I have almost a mind to come, too,"
he muttered, but as Roger said, hastily,
"Better not, Bue, we don't want any rows
to-night, Alison Is tired," he remained.
Alison threw a critical glance around
the room as she entered It No changes
had been effected since she bad last en
tered it.
Miss Leigh sat bolt upright by the big
round table, with her work-basket and a
pile of the boys' socks. Mr. Merle had a
little table and a reading lamp to him
self, and Missie sat on a stool at his feet
with a novel on her lap. Alison guessed
at once that this was their ordinary po
sition. "Oh, is that you, Roger? You don't
often honor us with your company of an
evening," observed Missie, with a toes of
her pretty head. "This Is a compliment
to you, Alison, I suppose?
"We ought to put our books away to
night," said Mr. Merle, rousing himself
reluctantly, and making Alison feel as if
he were treating her like a visitor.
"Mabel, my dear, suppose you give us one
of yonr little songs?"
."No, Indeed, papa," returned Alison,
eagerly, "I hope yoa will go on Just the
ssme as though 1 wero not here. Of
course I should like to hear Mabel sing,
but not If it disturbs you."
"Oh, I always sing to papa of an even
ing." replied Missie, walking to the piano
with much dignity. "Roger, I think you
might offer to light those candles for .me,
but yon boys have no Idea of waiting
upon ladies. You will find them dread
fully rough, Alison."
"On the contrary, I am rather fond of
waiting upon ladies," was Roger's non
chalant answer, laying a peculiar stress
on the last word that brought an angry
fash to Missie's face. "I always wait
on you, do I not, Miss Leigh?"
"Yes, Indeed, Mr. Roger, I always say
you are so kind and thoughtful."
Missie struck a chord sharply. "If you
will be good enough to leave off talking
I wilt commence my song," she said, cross
ly, and as Roger made a low bow and
retired she began the prelude of a Ger
man song.
Alison listened with much pleasure.
Among her other natural gifts, Missie
certainly possessed a very good voice, and
It had been evidently well trained. Her
notes were clear and sweet, and if she
could only have got rid of a certain af
fectation in her style, Alison could have
praised her still more warmly.
Aa It was, her admiration was so sin
cere that Missie began to thaw for the
first time. "I suppose you sing?" she
said, a little bluntly.
"Not much. I certainly can not com
pare my voice to yours," was the modest
reply, "but I am fond of Instrumental
music, and play a good deal.'
"Then you will be able to play my ac
companiment," returned Mabel, bright
ening still more. "Will you take my
place. Alison? Papa will like to hear
you, I am sure."
Not to-night,' returned Alison, feeling
as though she were not capable of any
further effort. I am rather tired, and
If papa would excuse me I think I should
like to go to bed."
By all means, my love, observed Mr.
Merle, looking up from his book. "Tus
sle, dear, I hope everything Is comfort
able for your sister. Never mind singing
to ms to-night, if there is anything you
can do to help Alison."
"I will come with you and see, return
ed Missie, a little ungraciously, and
though Alison would rather have dispens
ed with ber company, she thought it bet
ter policy to accept this faint offer of
help. On the landing Missie stopped, and
said, rather awkkardly, "I hope yon don't
mind about the change of rooms, Alison,
but as you do not live at home, I thought
I could please myself.
"I suppose I have come home to live
now, returnea ner saner, wearily ; "nut
if you do not want to give it up, Mabel,
I will try to be content with my present
one; 1 only want miugs to ue comforta
ble, and to do my best for you all."
Oh, as to that, we have got along
rery well," returned Mabel, hastily j "you
aeed not put yourself out on our account.
As papa says, I am grown up now near
ly seventeen and able to take care of my
self and other people, too. I hope you
are not going in to see Popple ; I think it
Is a pity waking up the child, and she is
o excitable."
I shall not wake her, but I promised
to go and see her," returned Alison, with
entle firmness, as she bade Mlsale good
night. Missie need not have troubled her
self about ber little sister a wakefulness.
Popple was sitting bolt upright in the
inrkness, waiting for Alison.
Now for a good cuddle and a talk,"
she said, stretching out ber arms to All
ton ; "you are a nice old thing to keep
Tour promise." And aa Alison sat down
in the little bed she forgot ber weariness,
Ui Poppie laid her warm cheek against
feers, snd called her dear, nice Allle.
OHAITKR VI.
Alison was too tired to lie awake a
(tomcat after her head touched the pillow,
liul aha woke so late the next morning
'.hut breakfast was already over, and Miss
Leigh sent up a message by Poppie, beg
ging ber to lie still and rest herself, as
er father and Roger had already gone to
dm mill, and she would send her up some
breakfast.
"Aunt Diana would call this a bad be
ginning." thought Alison. Nevertheless,
a her head still ached, she yielded to the
tempt ui lou. The sun was shining Into
her room, making her feel hot and rest
less, and 'ie begged Poppie to lower ths
blind, so that the huge crane might not
fret her eyes by its hideous tinsightlineits.
If bhe could only hsve shut out, too, Its
luccktant whir and grind I But that was
4
I Impossible. As h drunk her tea t
looked round the shabby room with a
slrange sinking of heart and spirits. "(
must wake up every morning to this," she
thought, "unless I make nu enemy of
Mitinie from the liegintiing by forcing her
to resign my room. Will It not be bet
ter to endure any amount of discomfort
than to do I lint V I will ask Aunt Diana
whnt I shall do about it. No, no." re
calling herself, "I must art now on my
own remnsibility. Aunt Diana will think
me a poor, helpless sort of a thing if I
always want her as morn' crutch to
support me."
And with this wise resolution, Alison
dressed herself quickly and finished Iter
unpacking, after which she ensconced tier
self In the deserted dining room and wrote
her first letter to Moss-side.
A sweet, brave little letter It was. All
son touched very little on her own feel
ings; she did not even speak of her
chanced room. Somehow, she had a no
tion that it would vex Aunt Diana. She
talked of Roger's warm welcome and Miss
Ieigh's kindness, and tried to make Aunt
Di Interested in Rudel's snd Poppie's
droll ways. Missie she barely mentioned,
except to say how pretty she had grown
and how nicely she sung, and then went
on to speak of her father's changed looks.
A great many loving messages, a few
longing expressions for Aunt Ii herself,
completed the letter.
The early luncheon hour brought all the
family together, hut Alison's sense of or
derliness and propriety was shocked by
Rudel's rough appearance. He came in
straight from school with unbnished hair
and unwashed bands, and sat down at the
table, until Missie'a loudly uttered in
junctions, and at last his father's curt
command to make himself presentable be
fore he ate his dinner, obliged him to
leave the room grumbling; and his return
a few minutes later led to a most undig
nified acene of recrimination between him
and Missie, carried on below their breaths
with the utmost bitterness, with Poppie
listening with both her ears, In spite of
Miss Leigh's gentle reminders to go on
with her dinner.
But this was not the only source of
discomfort to Alison ; her father was evi
dently in one of his gloomiest humors;
something had evidently gone wrong at
the mills, and, as usual, Roger was bear
ing the brunt of the annoyance. Alison's
heart was full of pity as she heard the
angry words that were launched at his
nnlucky head ; In her own mind she was
secretly marveling at Roger's patience.
Alison who was on tiie verge of tears
with suppressed pity, and longing to speak
a word in his defense was moved almost
to anger by the unconcern on Missie's
face. Evidently she was too nsed to hear
Roger found fault with on every occa
sion to take any notice af it. She had
finished her contest with Rudel, and now
sat with her usual self-satisfied look,
playing with her rings and humming a
little French air to herself.
"PapS, dear," she said, at last, placid
ly, "do let those stupid sawmills alone ;
you are only exciting yourself and mak
ing yourself ill. Come out into the gar
den with me and Poppie; it is so cool
and shady there." And as Mr. Merle
did not at once answer this appeal, she
came round to him and touched his arm.
"Come, papa," she repeated still more
placidly; "you have scolded RoW enough,
and it only puts you out. Come with
me; I want you." And actually Mr.
Merle suffered himself to be coaxed out
of the room; and in another minute Ali
son saw them sitting together under the
lime trees, with Poppie playing on the
lawn.
Alison turned round to seek Roger,
but he had left the room, and Rude! Iinil
followed him; only Miss Leigh was lex Ic
ing up the cellarette, and jingling her key
basket.
"What does this mean?" faltered Ali
son. "Why does papa speak to Roger in
this way? It is not right, is it?"
"Come with me into the school room,"
was Miss Leigh's sensible answer to this;
"as Sarah will be in directly to clear the
luncheon, and we can not talk before her.
I must speak to you, Alison; I must in
deed." And leading the way to the old
room Alison remembered so well, she clew
ed the door in her quick, nervous fashion,
and begged Alison to take the only easy
chair that the room boasted. "No, indeed."
returned Alison, quickly ; "Poppie's lit
tle stool will do for me. What docs it
matter where 1 sit, or wnetlier oue is
comfortable or not?" she continued, im
patiently, as Miss Ieigh stood hesitating.
"Please rest yourself in that big chair.
for you look quite fagged and tired, aud
I have had a nice rest
"I think I am nearly always tired,"
returned Miss Leigh, pluintively. "Is it
not dreadful, Alisou about poor Mr.
Roger, I mean? If it were not for my
poor blind mother, whom I pretty nearly
support out of my savings, I do not think
1 could endure this much longer. My
dear," with the tears starting to her gen
tie eyes, "when one gets to my age one
values peace and kind words above every
thing, and that is just what one cnu not
get at The Holms."
"Do you mean that this sort of thing
goes on dally?" exclaimed Alison, turning
her flushed face to the governess. "Do
you mean," bringing out her words with
difficulty, "that papa often gives Roger
all this to bear?"
"Welt, my dear, one must not exag
gerate. Things are not always going
wrong at the mills, of course ; and some
times we can eat our meals in peace;
but your poor dear father one hardly
likes to blame him to his own child
is very often hard' on Mr. Roger. It
seems to me as though nothing Mr. Roger
can do pleases your father, and as if
Mabel can do no wrong In bis eyes. You
can see for yourself, Alison, the influ
ence Bhe has over him."
"Yes, 1 see; but I can not uuderxtaud
It. When I was last at home Missie
was only a child, and yet, though she is
not seventeen, pud ought to be in the
school room and under your care, she
seems completely mistress."
"She is never in the school room now,"
returned Miss Leigh, leaning back wear
ily in the armchair. "Sometimes she
comes in to interfere with Poppie and lind
fault witJi some of my arrangements. But
she has coaxed your father itito giving
her French and singing lessons with her
friends, the liardwicks, and for months
she baa refused to open even a history ;
and yet you have no idea bow ignorant
she Is. Nothing lit mischief bas result
ed from her intimacy with Eva Hard'
wide. I have spoken to your father over
and over again about it. but he listens to
Mabel's version of her friend's character
and only the other day he told me I must
be mistaken, for Eva was a bright, high
spirited girl, and It was all nonsense what
Mr. Roger and I said about her."
"Roger dislikes her, then?"
"Oh, yes ; he never speaks to her If
he can help it. She is a fine-looking girl
older than Mabel, but vain and empty
headed, thinking of nothing but balls and
flirtations; and you know now dangerous
a friend of that sort Is to a girl of Ma
bel'a age. To do Mabel justice, she was
not halt so vain and fond of dress and
finery until she went so much to the
liardwicks. They hsve completely turn
ed her head, sn4. worst of all, Eva has
taken a dislike to Roger because he re
fuses to pay her any attention and laughs
at all their nonsense; aad that sets Ma- I
net ngainsi ner nrornT. nianci niwnys
had a temper of her own," went on Miss
Icipli. feeling a sort of relief in pouring
out ber fcrlings into Alison's ear, "but
she wns never so aggravating as she is
now. You see, my denr, If a girl does not
hold her own home as sacred, if she
chooses a giddy young companion for ber
confidante, nnJ retails to her nil that
passes in her owil household, finding fault
with her own people, and listening to her
friend's cuiinmte of them, she may end
as Mnliel docs, in thinking her brothers
rough and unmannerly, ami Poppie a dis
agreeable little girl."
"I)o you mean Missie Is so dishonora
ble as to repeat to Miss Hard wick all
that pnsses nt The Holms?" asked Ali
son, indignantly.
"They do not think it dishonorable,"
returned Miss licigh, with a quiet good
sense which Alison had never credited
her. "You see, Mabel calls Eva her
boiom friend, and refuses to have any
fcccrets from her. If Eva comes this af
ternoon, all that passed at the luncheon
table between your father and Mr. Roger
will be retailed, as a matter of course.
"Even if Mubel were disposed to be
reticent for once, Eva, who is of an in
quisitive nature, and who completely
dominates her, would soon worm the
whole thing from her. She has a grudge
against Mr. Roger, end nothing would
please her more than to hear of this hu
miliation, I have reason to know, Ali
son, that it is by Eva's advice that Mabel
intends to keep your room, I have heard
her say myself that, of course, as your
home is with Miss Carrington, you have
resigned your privilege here as the eldest
daughter, and that there is no need for
Mabel to knock under completely. Those
were her very words."
Alison looked grave. "Is Miss Hard-
wick often here?" she asked at last.
"They are together every day, either
here or at Broadlands the liardwicks'
house. But as your father objects to
strangers, or, indeed, to visitors of any
kind, Eva very rarely spends the evenings
here. Ihcy wtrc practicing in the draw
ing room this morning, and afterward
they went out together. There is anoth
er sister, Anna, a nice little thing, rather
pale and delicate looking, but they both
snub her. I suppose that makes Mr. Rog
er kind to her when she comes, for her
sister certainly Blights her, and Mr. Roger
always stands up for every one but him
self." "It seems odd, my saying all this to
you, Alison, observed Miss Ix-igh, alter
a pause; "for you are young yourself;
but you were never flighty and easily
led, as Mabel is. I believe she has her
good points ; she is really very much at
tached to your father, and will leave Eva
sometimes, if be wants her; and iu her
own way she is fond of Poppie, though
she tyrannizes over her. There 1 Popple
is crying as usual ; that is generally the
end when she is long with Mabel. I sup
pose, by that, your father hns gone back
to the mill. I had better go to her, Ali
son, if you will excuse me."
Alison had plenty of food for medita
tion when she wns left alone ; a very
difficult problem was before her to solve.
How was she to gain an influence ovef
her faulty young sister?
(To be continued.)
THE BADGE OF TRUST.
Itrtnrn of a I'nrliilned Article la He
pnld liy Hvldi'oee of Faltb.
"I enn't find It any where ! said Beu.
lull Lane, disconsolately. "I believe I
would rather have parted with any
thing 1 tune than that little fraternity
badge of father's the one piece of jew
elry he ever cured alsiut wearing. Yon
know Ixtw It was always pinned on
his waistcoat, and it lias seemed a part
of father t ine ever ulnce I was a tiny
girl, and now it's lost." Her eyes over
flowed its the vision of her dearly loved
father came to her uiiud. "J 'in afraid
I'm not very bruve to-day. Forgive
inc. mother," she wild, brushing nway
the tenrs.
It's bard to lie brave nil the time,
denr." answered MrH. Imm; with the
sweet senility that always touched
Beiilab, whose teiiitxwtuouM ;rief was
so different from the gentle- resigna
tion of her mother's) deep sorrow.
A few minutes after this conversa
tion Beulali. writing nt her desk; was
Interrupted by the little colored maid,
wliti lintl recently come to assist In the
household work.
"Miss Beulali," she said, timidly, "I's
mighty siirry you-nll's been grlevln' for
this little breastpin. I thought 'twn'n't
no 'count till I done hear you crjlu'
'bout It."
She laid the badge on the desk.
"Why, Susie!" exclaimed Beulab.
How could you take It?"
"I reckon I n been tempted, Miss Beu
lali. You done hab so muny pretty pins
lyln' round, I kind o' thought you'd
ncber miss jes' one, nnd I picked out
the olc-lookin' iin, 'cause I thought
twn'n't no 'count. Dem little bits o'
Jewels Is nil turned yellow nnd gray
like."
The pin's very old. but It's precious
to me, Siinle. It belonged to my dear,
dead father."
Yes'in. I know. I done hear yo' tell
yo' mummy, and I unid to myself, 'I'll
gib dat pin back to Miss Beulah, though
she neber trust no 'gain.' "
For ti moment Beulali did not answer
the anxiously tpiestlonlng note in Sir
hIo'h voice; then she wild, with sudden
decision, "I shall trust you, for It wns
courageous of yon to return my plu. It
was wrong of me to leave so many trin
kets about, for I tun ti girl myself, and
I know bow all girls like pretty oriuv
inents. This pin Is a Imdgt of n so
ciety, nnd all those to whom It Is given
are hellced to is1 worthy of trust. Now
I'm going to give you one of my plus
for a budge to remind you that I think
you are true aud worthy of trust.
waet vmi to wear It all the time and
reiiieinlMT that 1 believe lu you."
Susie's eyes widened with happy As
tonishment as Beulali selected from the
brooches u her divHslng-table a circlet
of tiny tuninolses. "Blue stands for
truth. Susie," she Mid. ns she fastened
Jt nt the girl's tdlur.
"O Miss Beulah," said Susie, with
break In ber voice, "you done been
pow'ful gisjd to me, and I's goln to
deserve the badge, 'deed I Is, miss."
"I know you are," responded Beulah
and ber trust was not betrayed, for Su
ale's long acrvlce to ber beloved Mlsi
Beulah waa marked by a sturdily hon
est devotion. Youth t'onipnnlou.
The deepening and lengthening of
the AuUsquam River have mode u
Island out of Capo Cod.
Figures seem to show that w art
dying younger.
THE GLORY OF WORK.
There the workman saw bis labor taking form tnd bearing fru!
Like a tree with splendid branches rising from an humble root
Iooklng nt the distant city, temples, bouses, domes nnd towers,
Felix cried In exultation: "All the mighty work Is ours.
"Every mason In the ijuarry, every builder on the shore,
Every chopper In the palm grove, every rnftpiimn nt the onr,
"Hewing wood and drawing water, splitting atoues and cleaving boA--All
the busy ranks of lalior, In the regiment of God,
"March together toward Ills triumph, do the task Ills hnnda prepare,
Honest toll is holy service, faithful work la prnlso and prayer."
-Henry Van Dyke.
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CHAPTER I.
The doctor hud made his liist visit
for the night nnd the nurse was left
alone with her patient a typhoid fever
patient, muscular and raving. It was
a private "contagions" ward j a room
that was always like n ship's deck,
stripped for action, with Its metal bed
of white enamel, Its metal table and
Its gray green wall, decorated only
with "colored supplement" prints be
cause these could be changed frequent
ly and burned easily. It was a room
of dim light and a tempered shadow
one of those bare hospital rooms where
you feel that the flame of life, though
It burns low, burns without a flicker,
being protected and watched In its
feebleness with no sentiment of love,
but with the skilled care nnd the cool
eye of unlmpnssioncd science.
The nurse sat nt the bedside, her
hands folded In her lap, like a nun
at meditatlen. There wns something
nun-like In her face, in her placidity
beside such suffering. In the almost
melancholy sweetness of ttie face of n
womaa who hnd looked many times en
death alone at midnight and who hnd
lived for a long year in the constat?!
companionship ef pain.
But, indeed, the expression belled
her. She was watching her patient for
the signs of a hemorrhage, listening
Intently to his breathing, with the sub
conscious alertness of the engineer who
will sit musing with an eye on the
steam gauge and an ear strained for
the slightest change of note In the regu
lar swing and cadence of the machi
nery. The poor fellow In the bed
tossed and muttered fretfully. She
soothed hlra with her voice with a
murmur of "Yes, yes. Go to sleep, then.
Go to sleep," as If she were talking
to n child. There was no sign of nerv
ousness or anxiety about her. Only
once, when she rose to take his pulse,
fhe stood a moment to smooth down
the stiff glnghnni of her uniform with
a slow palm In an endenvoi- to loosen
the starch in It so that It would not
rustle. The pntieut was making a dry
clutching in his mouth. She took a
pleco of Ice from n bowl among the
medicine bottles and glasses on the
table- and put It under his tongue. He
sighed ft breath of grateful weakness.
She stood looking down at htm, smil
ing with a motherly pity. His eyes
were closed.
He has been as self-willed In his
Illness as a spoiled child. He had been
almost convalescent when, against all
warning while the day nurse was
chatting with the doctor outside the
door he bad staggered from his bed
o a basket of fruit on the table nnd
eutcn two peaches before lie was seen.
The result was a relapse Into a far
more critical condition than he had
been at first. Here be lay now, strug
gling against death Itself. She won
dered whether he had a sister who was
fond of him or a sweetheart? who
hnd been sending him these baskets of
fruit.
lie was breathing regularly In a fit
ful doze. She returned to her chair
nnd leaned forward to look nt hlin with
her chin iu her band.
Although she wns not aware of It he
bad changed for her; from being a
'case" he become a human being with
i claim of interest on her, and she
frowned at his muttering of pnln. Poor
fellow! Life must have been so full
for blm of interests, activities, prom
ises, achievements. To have It all end
this way, futilcly! He had given the
college cry once in a delirium and
struggled, panting, through a football
game. And once he had been standing
on the platform of debate. Another
time he had been writing on an exam
ination in law. And still another tlmu
she thought that she heard him spenk
Jim's name In the jumble of delirious
mutterlngs.
Jim was to have been a lawyer. Poor
Jim! Her eyes filled at that old, tear
stained memory of Jim and her father
drowned together In that horrible acci
dent on the Delaware. Well, she at
least had not been a burden on her
mother's small Income, and soon as
soon as she was graduated from the
hospital she would be not only self
supporting but an aid to the others.
There were two long years of hard
work liefore her yet. She bit her Hp.
The untiring run and babble of his
delirium had been growing louder. She
went to him again to calm, blm with
the sound of her voice, aud be looked
up at ber with a smile that seemed al
most rational. It was only momen
tary; he called tier "Auntie," and oe-
gan a childish prattle.
"I'm not Beepy, ' he said. "I don't
want to go to bed, auntie," and tried
to raise his bead from the yillow.
8 ho took her cue from blm.
"Yes you are," she cooed. "Go seepy
hye. Auntle'll tuck ou In."
She arranged his blankets about his
Shoulders, patting and smoothing them
down.
"Night-night," he said contentedly.
"Kiss me good night."
She touched bis forehead with her
finger tips.
"Ssh," she said, and bent down to
him. The line screen at the ftmt of
the bod. hid her from anyone who
Bight pass lu the hull. She touched
her Us to bis forehead. "Night-uigllt,"
he whlscrod.
He looked at her with thlldisb smile
pouting his lips. It hardened tlowly
ftntf a pursed uioutu of perplexity.
"Hello," he snld. "Where"
He closed his eyes on a decided
frown. 1
She was still blushing hotly when his
regular breathing showed her that he
bad fallen Into a Quiet slumber.
CHAPTER II.
He was sitting In his arm-chair tak
ing a sun bath nt a window tbot look
ed out on the dazzling white of melting
snow. His visitors had Just lert htm,
at his doctor's orders. He was waiting
for the return of "Nurse Blakely," with
nn impatience which he might have
recognized ns longing If his physical
weakness had not disguised affection
In til in ns nu Irritable lack of what
he wished to have. She came In light
footed.
He crowed a feeble
"Ah-hn! did you hear what the doc
tor said?"
"What did he say?"
She arranged his pillows to ease the
strain on n weak back. He was grate
ful for that and his gratitude shone
In his smile. ,
"I'm to be humored, the doctor said
I'm to have my awn war In every
thing." "Are you?" she said, avoiding his
eyes. "You certainly had yeur own way
about the fruit."
He laughed now at the folly that
bad kept him a happy prisoner la ..he
hospital for the past nine weeks. 'That
fruit!" he said; "thnt was th most
delicious the most Do you snow,
Nurse Blakely, I thought those peaches
would kill me, but I was dying for
something to cat and I Just took
them." She did not reply. "A man's a
UKB HAND WAS WITHIN HIS KKACII AND
III TOOK IT.
fool when he has a fever. Isn't be?'
he added with apologetic seriousness.
Only then?" she retorted with ob
stinate flippancy.
Sho was busying herself about the
room, lie was watching her every
movement with an eye of invalid ton
derncss. "Oh, I say," he protested.
"you don't make any allowance for a
fellow being ill I"
She affected a professional cheerful
ness in the matter.
Oh, you re well on your way to
health." she said. "We'll soon have
you back to your friends "
Nurse," he said, "you're the best
friend I ever had or want to haye,
anywhere and always."
Her cloistered loneliness rose on her
in a surge of bitterness.
"Walt till you've been away from
here about a monht One feels very
dependent and and affectionate when
one Is 11 L It soon wears off."
"That's the way you always talk," he
60 Id moodily. Then, brightening, "I'll
report you to the doctor. You're not
humoring me."
She did not answer. She smiled, hav
ing warded off the danger which his
milder manner had warned her of.
She seated herself in a chair and took
up a book, which she had put down on
the table when his visitors had entered.
"What's that?" he demanded peev
ishly. "Whnt are you rending?"
"Don'ts," she answered laconically.
"Dou'ts?"
." K)no Hundred Dou'ts for Nurses,'
she read from the cover. "Things we
are not to do."
"Well, don't worry. Your sins have
been all of omission. It's the things
you have not done "
She sinlted serenely at the page.
"You might rend It out ut least," be
wild.
"Let me see." She turned the pages
"I think thnt Is probably Included in
the prohibitions: Don't let others know
the secrets of the profession."
lie clutched the arm of the chair.
"You're teasing inc. I-t me read
that book or I'll get up."
She lunched ami passed It to him
lie began to read :
"Don't sit In a risking chair nnd rock
while resting." "Don't injure the fur
niture In any way and W careful of
all fancy decorations." He looked
iiliout him. "The wreckage has been
tippalliii!; In this palutlal a part men t
He reatl ug:iiii. "Well, great Ell!" r
cried, ami looked up at her. "Why,
It was you?"
"I'oine here, please."
She went to bl.ti. He pointed with
a thin linger to an a-vuslug "Han't
Uis your p.itleiit."
She flushed unler her dainty Stvlsa
Clip.
"Not evc:i .Vllrioua paileuU?" he 1j-tulnkL
5k turned her back on hlra fron
the window. ,
"Not even those who have nn illu
mination of reason?" he persisted. Sin
could find nothing to say. "to you
know." he said, "I've been puzzling;
over It ever since. It was Just before1
I fell asleep and woke up to my sense
again. At first I thought It was my
aunt who brought me up, and tht-n sud
denly I thought It was an M chum
of mine at college. You look way like
him. Why. your names are the sumo.
Was Jim Blakely relative of yours?"
He was drowned "
She turned on blm with a cry of
"Jim Jim was my my dcaresl
brother."
'Good Dird," he gasped, nnd tried
to rise. He sank back weakly In his
chair and sat there staring at her.
What a chump I am," ho said at lust.
'So you're little Mnrjorle." He remem
bered Jim's picture of her In bra den.;
"How proud he wns of yon." The
thought of her position there came ti
him In a shnincful contrnst. "What n
brute I've been," he said, "and you
watt on me hand nnd foot like that.
Whut a brute. Jim's sister."
Her back was to him. She stood
looking out of the window. Her band
was within his reach, and he teak It.
"Do you think," be said, "being
Jim's chum, you could " He touched
his Hps to the palm of her hand "for
give me? Could you?" It was his old
teasing tone with a new note ef seri
ousness In It. She tried to free her fin
gers. "Take care now," he warned,
"the doctor said I wus to be humored."
She laughed and that weakened her
defenses. He caught her other hand.
'You're a brick, Marjorle," lie said.
"t me go," she said, sobbing. "I
I want to wipe my eyes, you sllty."
Her tone was Itself a surrender. Ho
lay back aud smiled with content Into
her wet eyes. Pennsylvania flrlt.
JOHN DKEW NEXT TO A SCRAP.
Broadway Street Car Kplaode Tailed
Forth the Actor's Protest.
It was about 8Sth street that Jack
Spencer got aboard a Broadway car.
He is a 7th avenue tinsmith and he
wns trying to balance four lengths of
stovepipe on the heel ef his right arm
a ticklish Job if yen ever tried it,
says the New York Telegraph.
Spencer didn't pay any attention to
John Drew, whe wns also aboard, nor
the actor to Spencer, because eaeh was
apparently busy with his own affairs,
the tinsmith trying ta make the pipes
behave and the actar combing with re
flective fingers the place where he
wears the prop whiskers In "Jnck
Straw." But each took a new grip on
himself at the sound of a voice from
the other end of the car :
"I say, old top! Smok'.n' car with
those pipes, y'know."
The tinsmith looked sternly In the
direction of the voice and saw a foolish
looking person In a monocle, who
proved latei to be Bertram Hardy of
Hull, England, a regular, perlshln' gid
dy, garden goat, don't you know a
spoofln 6!d blighter from the head
spooferies, dash It all I
"You know, old cockeyweck," Ber
tram Hardy went on, "you really ought
to smoke up, you know. Eh what?
The pipes, don't yon see? Haw-w-w!"
And Btlll the tinsmith said nothing.
But he threw the pipe Into the corner
of the platform, strode over to where
Mr. Bertram Hardy sat and slapped
him, quite haphazard, just abaft the
monocle.
"Get out of that seat!" commauded
the tinsmith.
"I shall do nothing of the sort!" re
torted Mr. Bertram Hardy, and that
wus the end of round 1. Tinsmith's
round. : .
"Sit down, then," ordered the tin
smith, rudely crushing Mr. Bertram
Hardy's hat over his eyes.
"Sit down yourself," wns the angry
reply, and Mr. Bertram Hardy viciously
cut at the tinsmith with his walking
stick, just missing the jlbboom of Mr.
Drew's trousers. End of round 2.
A draw.
"Get off this car," was the tinsmith's
next lead. And, suiting the action to
the word and the word to the action,
he assisted Mr. Bertram Hardy to the
platform and hence to the street,
throwing his walking stick after him.
"I shall have your name and address
directly," said the null Terror by way
of repartee. End of round and fight.
Both awarded to the tinsmith.
It wns at this point that Mr. Drew
Interposed his remonstrance and re
minded the conductor that this was a
street car and not a prize ring.
"Aw, you don't expect me to butt
into a fight, do you?" demanded the
conductor.
Birds Get Breakfast Easily.
"All the birds get a free breakfast,
thanks to the electric light," said a
linesman, as be fastened on his climb
ers "Yes, all summer long the birds
get a free and certain breakfast with
out hustUug for it, Just the same as a
millionaire's daughter, without any
work er worry or uncertainty, comes
down at 10 and finds her grase fruit
ready.
"The cause Is the attraction an elec
tric light has for bugs. Never a night
but a thousand or more bugs and in
sects kill themselves in the attempt to
eat or embrace the golden glow of each
electric street lamp. Never a lamp, no
matter how humble, but it has each
dawn a great heap of corpses at itsj
feet, insect victims of love or hunger
who knows which? At any rate, the
wise birds, as soon as they awake, dart
to the nearest lamp, and make beneath
It nn excellent nnd abundant free break
fast." Unite Probable.
it is evident that the young man
who writes the news Items lu the Wil
lowby Times wishes always to be on
the safe side and exercise due caption
lu his statements.
'When Mr. Lemuel Hawkins entered
the bedroom ou the ground floor of his
farmhouse one day lust week," wrote
the careful news-gatherer, "he found
that a cow. probably astray, had made
her way there from the open door."
Don't long for gisHi luck; It will
only result In an extra drum of bad
luck.
There is uo more expensive luxurf
ui the world thn ett eret