THE DRUM.
Rataplan: Rataplan'
In th* forefront of the Tan
*Tla a lit tie brant lea* drummer boy that lead*
the bearded man
See the ltmpfnt veteran
Keeping atep a* twvit he ran
Vo the little beardle** drummer boy'a com
manding rataplan
Ritaplan'
How old racolle’tioat come
At the hcatln r of the drum.
Of the battle « mad (untaala, the throbbing
and the hum
Of the rifle*’ rataplan
in the forefront of the van.
Where the drum*tick wan a bullet and the
parchment wan a man:
A Passive Crime.
BY ••TIIK IH rn»7»».“
CHAPTER VII— CoxriNi’F.o.
“Oh, Mlmi, do not lot him say
that! Ho is not dead! lie willcomo
back!" says Maui), in an agony of
grief ami despair, appealing in a
heart-broken manner to lmr friend
•u«l mother. "And it wns not all
my fault And and I will not be
lieve that ho is dead! It would be
too cruel!”
••What a gloomy room, and what
death?" asks a gay, glad, young
voice from the door way, that thrills
the listeners to their hearts' core.
It is a voice that makes tho old
man start and tremble violently, and
hold out his arms in expectation,
vrith a suppressed but thankful cry.
i et for the first time his loving
greeting it overlooked. Is cast aside.
A slight figure, hulf hidden by the
dusk, but discernible to the eyes of
a lover, has chained the newcomer’s
attention, and. oblivious of his
father and of all things, Dick Pen
ruddock goes eagerly up to it. At
the sound of hU voice Maud has
rais.d herself, und, breaking now
from Mrs. Neville, goes quickly to
him, and, with an impulsive gesture,
lavs her hands upon his shoulders.
"It is indued you! You have rant
Jy come back to ine?” she gasps, in
• little, tremulous whisper, that
plainly tells her love and uratltudo.
"Yes; to you!" responds he gladly.
•Thu there was no danger none,
lie tired right over my head, and re
fused to tiro again. No ono knows
why. I really think ho must have
had a sneaking kindness for me all
through, or elso he had tired of
killing . So you sue 1 was bound to
<*omc back, like that inevitable bad
•coin, you know. Why, what is this?
Are those tears, ray love—are they
*»hed for roe?"
KatupUn'
!»he is looking up at him with
■eyes full of tears, and pink lids, and
pallid cheeks; yet never has she ap
peared to him so beautiful as now,
whfen dookod with those sign* of woe
that are worn for love of him.
••My dear Dick, what a fright you
fcnvo given us!" says Mrs. Neville,
with a deep sigh, half of relief, half
of annoyance. “Why. we have boon
mourning you as past oil help In this
world, during the lost hour; and
now hero you are. safe and sound!
1 really think you ought to bo
ashamed of yourself, and ought also
to oiler us a profuse apology. ”
••For being alive," smiled Dick.
—Yes—no, I mean, no— Dear me,
I hardly kuow what I am saying;
but you roally ought to fool sorry
For all the trouble you have caused."
••Have you nothing to say to your
father?” says Penruddoek. at the far
■end of the room. -That young
lady"—pointing to Maud—-If all I
hear be true, you saw only two
nights ago. me you have not seen
for two months. Yet it seems that
.you havo nothing to sav to me.
though much to her Has '—and
this was spoken very bitterly —“has
ttn at* tuaiutanceship of weeks oblit
erated tbo affection of years?"
“My dear father!" says Dick, de
precHtingly.
Tht-n he kisses , Miss Neville’s
hand, and, leaving her, goes up to
where his father is stunding. Maud,
Jglad oi the chance, slips ftom the
room at this moment, and escapes to
her own sanctum.
••Why. father, what lucky chance
has driven you up to town?” says
Dick, affectionately, placing his
hand' on i’enruddock’s shoulder.
-No lucky chance, but the news
•of this duel that you have been tight
•'ing," says his fathor gloomilv.
“•Into what dangers you have been
enticed?”
••Why. how came yon to hear of it
in your quiet country homo?” says.
Dick, with some amazement.
• It matters little. I did hear,
that is plaiu. and came up by the
iirst train.”
•Must have been that incorrigible j
Wilding,” mutters Dick, bolow his
breath. j
••My time in this great city must '
be short,” says I’enruddock, not j
hee.ling him. “and I would speak !
with you seriously before leaving, j
When can I find myself alone with
you? There is much that I have to
.tell.” |
“Any time; I am quite at your dis
posal loan hour —half an hour,”
-says Dick, readily. “First. I must
■see Wilding to explain matters: I
had promised to dine with him to
night, but shall, of course, resign
everything to devoto myself to you.
Where shall I meet you in half an
hour? Where are you putting up—
at the Langham, or Claridge’s?”
“t'iaridge’s. 1 shall expect you
sit the time you say. Do not disap
point me.”
••You have ray word.” says Dick.
“•Well. I shall be oft now. (iood
by. Mrs. Neville. You must not
scold me anv more, you know; I’m
not proof against your displeasure,
that is a positive fact i shall drop
in to morrow, if I may. to tell you
nit about my adventure ”
••Yes; do come, if only to see how
thoroughly 1 can forgive.” says Mrs.
Neville, smiling; her heart is incap
nble of harboring anger.
And the young man. smiling in
Corn, presses her hand, takes up his
hat. and quits the room, Penrud
I dock, having- miido his adieux in
more elaborate form, goes slowly
down stairs, and Into the hall. As
; he passes a room the door of which
is now open, a woman.tall and dark
browed, come* quickly forward, as
| though summoned by his footstep,
| and confronts him. As his ejes
i light upon her, a ghastly change
comes over him lie Is white as a
sheet, seems to shrink and grow
! smaller, and draws his breath hoav
il>.
••Well. Ponruddock." she says, in
accents slow and distinct, appearing
to onjoy his discomfiture; -‘and so wo
meet again. Ifow pleased you look!”
••What has brought you here?” de
mands ho, hoarsely,looking nervous
ly around.
“Fate!" ropties she coldly.
••But here—what has brought you
here?" asks he, ns though unable to
refrain from idlo questioning.
The womuti, bending toward him,
lays her bony hand upon his wrist
••To help you to remember,” whis
pers she, in a tong that makes him
shudder, so much compressed hatred
lies within it. “Have yon forgot
ten? Fifteen years ago this month,
Ponruddock! Fifteen yoars ago!"
So saying, she turns abruptly, and
enters the room ugaln. Ponruddock
follow) her.
••Stay, woman!" ho exclaims.
••Ho not so eager," repilos Ksthor;
••wo shall moot again."
Hy this time sho has roachuJ adoor
opposito to that by which she had
entered that room, opens, and durts
through it, closing it quickly bo
hind her. Pen uddock would still
follow her, but. roaehing the door
through wh'ch the woman has gone,
ho linds it locked ugalnnt him.
CHAPTKK VIII.
A True Lover.
After a momentary sensation of
faintness, that follows cioso on
Father's disappearance, Ponruddock
rallies, and tells himself that her
presence in this particular house is
but one of tho coincidences that will
occasionally occur In all our lives,
and that her wild allusion to objec
tionable dates has only arisen from
tho morbid qualities that go so far
| to make up her character. By the
, time his son has arrived, and is
ushered Into his private sitting
j room, lie is himself again, composed,
j calm, and cold, and freer from fool
i ish sentiment than ho was an hour
ago, reaction having sot in. He
opens his subject, which has to do
ontirolv with Dick’s misplaced affec
tion for Miss Novillo. ••so-called.”
without any appearance of excite
ment or undue warmth, merely ex
pressing in every posslblo way his
disapprobation of the young lady to
whom his son is so devoted. Whon
l ho lias finished, Dick for several
| moments remains quite silent.
| When rejected by Maud on tho
night of the danco, he had given
- w»y to despair, but so many littlo
i things havo occurred since then to
! encourago new hopos. that ho has.
j on reflection, docllnod to bo alto
gether disheartened. Her love is
not as yot given to another, and
therefore shu may bo his in the
happy muletined future.
■•I regret that I must go against
you in this matter,” he says at
length, quietly but decidedly. He
is standing on tho hearth-rug, bis
arms foldod, and looking frowningly
upon the carpet.
His father, standing opposite to
him. with clouded brow, is regard
ing him anxiously.
••You speak like a child who is
asked to relinquish a favored but
dangerous toy,” he says contemptu- j
ousiy. "You. with your fortune and j
position, to maryy a giri penniless,
nameless,—nay, if reports speak cor
rectly. even worse than-"
"Inst will do," says the j'oung
man, with a sudden gesture sugges
tive of passion. "Say nothing more,
if you please. It is of no conse
quence whatever to me tteit she is
poor and nameless, as were
she possessed of all the
wealth in Christendom, and owner j
of the highest titlo in the land. I
could not possibly lovo her more
than I do now.”
"Sentiment In tho young is tidmlr
able, says Penruddock. in a sneer- >
ing tone. . “It betrays amiability a -U !
good feeling. But even virtues may j
be earriod to excess. Do you—par
don me—but do you moan to marry !
this young woman?”
It would be difficult to say why, j
hut who ever knew a man that ■
wasn't annoyed when any one called
the girl he loved a "young woman.-”’ !
••What else should 1 mean.” be I
asks, with wrotchedly-concealed ire. i
“if she will have me?”
••Oh! you need not entertain any
anxiety on that point. They always
have ono,” says Penruddock, con- j
temptuously. “It is generally a
complete 'take in’ from start to
finish.” Then, changing his tone
from one of unpleasant banter to !
that of authority, “Now, look here,” i
he says: "let us have no more of i
this. You can’t marry her.”
Perhaps as he speaks he forgets j
how the son inherits his own blood
and temper to some degree.
•1 shall be quite charihed if noth
ing more is said about it.” says Dick, j
brushing carelessly some spots of
dust from his coat: “but I shall cer
tainly-marry Miss Neville if I can in- !
duco her to accept me. ”
There is something in the quiet ’
determination of his tone that im- j
pi-esses George Penruddock. Going j
over to his son. he lays his hand ■
upon his t boulder, and says more i
gently—nay. even with entreaty— !
-Think well of what you are going i
to da This marriage will mean to ;
you ruin.misery, unavailing regret.” j
••It means my one chance ol hap- '
piness.” says Dick, with a deep sigh,
throwing up his head, and looking
eagerly forward, as though in the
distance he could see somo sight that
to him was full of sweetness aud
light.
••Can nothing raovo you?” asks
Penrudtlock, unsteadily. "Not all
the years gone by. in which I huve
lived, and thought, and speculated
for you alone? is this, after all that
I havo done, to be ray sole return?”
“Dear futhor,” says Dick, turning
to him with quick and eager affec
tion, “why try to make me misera
ble? I lomember all- evory kind
word arid kinder action; and I would
implore you in this, the most im|jor
tant act of my life, to give me your
sympathy. When vou know Maud
you will bettor understand me, be
came you too will love her. To
morrow I shall ask her again to be
ray wife, and if she consents, which”
(and he looked and spoke very mourn
fully) “1 strongly doubt, you will
gam a daughter as loving as your
son.”
“Nay," says Penruddocic, an
grily turning aside; “l want
no daughter picked from the
mire. (io. sir!'' pointing to the
door. “I shall not again sue to you
for cither your love or obedience.
Yet stay, and hear my lait words, as
you intend to go to-morrow to ask
that girl again to marry you. I warn
you I shall be there too, to explain
to her the terrible injustice she will
do you shoulu sho consent to your
proposal. ”
"And I worn you," says Dick,
calmly, but in a very curious tone,
“that it will be extremely unwise of
you. or anyone, to say anything
likely to wound or offend Miss
Neville, oven in the very slightest
degree.”
As the door closos upon his son.
floorge Ponruddock sinks heavily
into tho nearest chair, covers his
face with his hands, and is overcome
with emotion.
"And for this t havo suffored, and
endured, nnd sinned!” he says, with
a convulsive shudder. “Oh. that it
wero possible to undo my wretched
past! llut that can never be. alas!
that can never bo.”
When Dick leaves his father’s
prosonec, it is but to hasten to his
room, and send a hasty but tender
noto to Miss Novillo, toiling her of
his intention to call next day, and
again entreat her to iook favorably
upon his suit Then ho puts in a few
lines about his father, very delicate
ly written, saying that ho also in
tends putting in an appearance at
South Audley street on the morrow;
and while assuring her of his own
lasting affection for her, implores
her—as she feels even a poor senti
ment of friendship for him—to pay
no heed to aDy disparaging remarks
that ignorance of her sweet excel
lence may'induce anyone to make.
After this follow a few more little
sentences, put in rather incoherent
ly, but, in all probability, the dearer
because of their want of precision to
the reador of them, and then ho is
hers -most faithfully, and with tho
ontiro love of his heart, Dick l’en
ruddock. ’’
It is a thorough love-letter; one
that might have been written a
century ago, .when love was a thing
more sacred antf more full of
courtesy than it is to-day. Maud,
sitting in her own room, weeps
bitter tears over it, and kisses it
foolishly but very fondly, and tells
herself again and again that fato has
dealt unjustly with her in that it
compels her to resign tho writer of
this gentle billot doux, and putting
him entiiely out of her life, leaves
him free to be gained and loved by
some more fortunate woman. And
that she must so leave him is, per
haps, the deepest sting of all.
Ksthor, the nurse, coming in. flnds
her prone upon a sofa, crying quiet
ly, yet bitterly, and. full of sympathy,
and a little frightened, comes over
to her, and smoothes back tenderly
the soft hair from her forehead. To
this fond and faithful woman, the
girl will always be her child, her
nursling.
[TO BE COXTISUSa]
Flying t tnh.
Officers of the steamer Essex re
port a school of living fish in the
Ka: pahannock river. Virginia. Fly
ing fish swim in shoals varying in
number from a dozen to a hundred
or more. They often leave the
water at once, darting through the
air in the same direction for got)
yards or more, and then descend to
the water quickly, rising again, and
then renewing their flight Some
times the dolphin may be seen in
rapid pursuit, taking great leaps
out of the water, and guiniug uoon
its prey, which take shorter and
shorter flights, vainly trying to es
cape. until they sink exhausted.
Sometimes the larger sea birds catch
flying fish in the air. The question,
whether the flying fish use their fins
at all as wings is not fully decided.
The power of flight is limited to the
time the fins remain moist.
I r*paro<l.
It was a murky night.
Dark clouds lowered over tho
world, and here and there dropped a
fringe of fog.
A shriek pierced the air.
She clutched her husband's nose
wildly in her startled frenzy.
■•Heavens." she gasped, in terror,
and even as she spoke the awful crv
broke again upon her ears, “the par
egoric bottle is empty.”
There was nothing to do but walk
the floor.—Detroit Tribuue.
A Know-Nothing.
Bobby Bingo, at his mother's din
ner party—This is the first dinner
mamma would let mo sit at the ta
ble with the company. One of the
Guests—Then you are not very well
acquainted here, are you. Bobbie?
Bobbie—No. sir. I don’t even know
who all this silver belongs to_
Brooklyn Life.
A BARON'S HOME LIFE.
HIRSCH IS A ROYAL ENTER
TAINER. INDEED.
Europe Dotted with HI* Magnificent
Cattle*—The Twentieth Century Caatle
at Elchorn—Chateau In Franca and
Manaion In Hungary.
ESIDES BEING
lone of the greatest
financiers, gener
oils philanthropists
and richest men of
all Europe, Baron
Hirsch possesses an
additional qualid
cation in the eyes
of his friends and
acquaintances,
namely, that of be
mg’ the very perfection of a host and
successful entertainer. His shooting
parties at his Moravian place, the
twelfth century castle at Kichom; his
modern country seat of St. Johann,
in Hungary; his chateau of Beaure
gard, in France; his mansion in
the Rue de l'Elysee, at I'aris,
and his town house in London are
famed throughout the length afid
breadth of Europe for the perfection
of their organization, the abundance
of the sport and for the lavish hospi
tality of the baron.
It is generally in the early part of
August that the buron arrives at Eic
horn for the autumn, and as soon as
the shooting season opens there is a
constant succession of guests from
every part of the world. Just ut the
present moment he has with him the
duke and duchess of Devonshire, the
earl of Dudley. Lord de Grey and a
number of other personages of light
and leading. Eichorn is perched on a
rocky crag commanding a glorious
panorama of the surrounding country.
Huron Hirsch, who is but little over
00 years of age and wonderfully well
preset ved, rises early in the morning,
while the majority of his guests are
still sound asleep, and spends an hour
in exercising with Indian clubs, dumb
bells and aerostats before bathing and
dressing. He then drinks a cup of
black coffee and eats a slice of dry
costume, awaiting them, and driw
along a magnificent ten mile road con
structed over a sandy stretch of coun
try and passing over no fewer than
thirty-six bridges to the village of St.
Johann. This road was constructed by
the baron and has naturally caused
him to be looked upon in the district
as a national benefactor.
The carriages halt beneath the pil
lared portico of a huge structure in the
rococo style of architecture, and the
guests find themselves surrounded by
infinitely greater degree of luxury and
brilliancy than when at the more
somber castle of Eicliorn. The pint
BARONESS lltRSCIt.
ures are superb and there is an abso
lutely priceless “Holy Family” by Van
Dyk hanging in the library.
The baron's chateau of Beauregard,
near Paris, is likewise somewhat
rococo in style, and dates from the
reign of Louis XIV. King Louis XV
was very fond of staying there and it
is on record that on one occasion while
in pursuit of a stag he rode through
the grand salon on horseback.
In 1849 Napoleon, at that time presi
dent of the French republic, purchased
it from Gen. le Marquis de Galliffet
and presented it to that Miss Howard
who was not only his Egeria but also
his financial backer until he became
emperor. On marrying Eugenie de
Montijo, Napoleon made this chateau
the cause for conferring upon his belle
ainie the title of Comtesse de Beaure
gard. On her death Miss Howard be
ENGLAND’S GRAND OLD MAN AT 83.
' MR AND MRS GLADSTONE
AND THEIR FAVORITE GRANDCHILD
The above picture is from a photograph taken in August last at Hawarden Castle,
the home of the Gladstones. It is of interest just now while the wires are kept hot telling
Americans that the Grand Old Man of England is daily nearing the end of his useful life
It is not impiokable that there is foundation for these tumors and that any dav we mav
learn that the bright light has finally vanished and that William Ewart Gladstone
ia no more.
bread in a small turret veranda, from
I whieh he can see the sun rise in all its '
splendor across the low lying’ plain at1
the foot of the mountain. At ii o'clock !
iu the morning he receives his secre
tary, M. Furth, and before the general
breakfast bell sounds has got i through
a formidable batch of correspondence,
interviewed his house steward and set
tled with his head gamekeeper the pre- j
cise locality of the day's sport. j
Dressed, as usual, with scrupulous !
care, his costume is essentially English i
and exceedingly quiet. The ‘ baroness '
BAROX HIRSCI?.
«nd her two adopted sons usually join
the shooting1 party for lnneheon in the
middle of the day. wherever it mav
happen to be in the forest, and the
sportsmen do not return home until 6
in the evening. After tea and a short
siesta they sit down at 3 to a dinner
rooked by the baron's famons chef,
who enjoys a European celebrity and
accompanies the barou everywhere.
In striking contrast with the medie
val castle of Eiehorn is the baron's
modern mansion of St. Johann, in the
heart of Hungary, about half way be
tween Vienna and Pesth, whither the
baron and his guests Usually migrate
after a couple of months spent in
Moravia. On alighting at the station
the guests find typical Hungarian car
riages, with servants arrayed in Magyar
queathed the place to her son bv the
emperor, who bore the title of Comte
de Rechevet, and the latter sold it in
1STU to the eccentric Duchesse de
Beauffremont.
Blanche Willis Howard.
Blanche \\ illis Howard has written
in all nine books since she stepped be
fore the public as a story maker, some
of them stronger and more elaborate
than her first, but none probably quite
so affectionately welcomed and de
lightedly read as that same initial one
—"One Summer." She wrote it to earn
money to go abroad, and the only rea
son her American readers are sorry
they bought it so
generously is that
she did go abroad
on the receipts and
has staid there
pretty much all the
time since. She has
lived for years at
Stuttgart, where
she edits a maga
zine, writes books,
man’ied woman, Blanche hovtaBd
condnets the education of several pnju,
at her home. Miss Howard has writ
ten some verse, not much, however, as
she has wisely recognized that her
prose faculty !* many times greater
than her metrical powers.
A Clerical War Story.
Dr Jesse Itowuuin Young, editor of
the Central Christian Advocate, has
written a book on what he saw as a
SrvVf hiarmy' 1Dr-Yonn» tells the
of. hls " ar ‘lays under the pre
tense of narrating the adventure of a
ce.tain factitious person. Jack San
ttTi “ame- " h° " as to° vmmno
“if f,',8'1- 'ait who went off to U c
^ttlehehls with his uncle, who was
an officer in the Union armv U l.ii
" th his uncle Dr. Youn™witnl
many thrilling episodes which .i ff
frighten him, bnt, on the contra "
vere spurs which goaded him to Y’L
m a lennsylvania regiment i,.,-‘ 1
he was IS years old, the reouir °re
of recruits. Dr. Young <f’ d a.f®
junction to the close of tkewarfnrf
he had an officer s . ar,,nii
he returned to private life*8 ^ whe®
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Ely’sCreamBalm
Cleanses the Nasal
Passages, Allays Pain
and Inflammation,
Restores the Senses
of Taste and Smell.
Heals the Sores.
into each nostril.
Biios.MVV.rrensn.Nl
Are You
CUBE
Mgr.
LION NERVE T<*»K,
KanunW
WALL STREET
Speculation successfully handled.
Send V
HMav.uu SUWCSDI UIIJ uanuiv^. - ^
oectus and full information rax*. Inoreaa.
Income, Investments placed. Adur*** .
Morton, t^ard A Co.. 2 £ 4 Wall SU,
TREES of GOLD
Burbank’s 80 Million Muewcreations. »
Burbank’s 80 Million Muewcreations. ■
Trees PREPAID everywhere. SAFEARRIJJ,
anteed. The “great nurseries” save you o*v
Millions of the best trees 70 years’exper^
-jr me oest trees to years e»r
gow; thev “live loaotr and heir better
Morton. STAHKtB32,\dJa4ana.Mo.iR^
lit
. «..»»msrmrm fAits. ,
■ Beet Cough Syrup. Tastes 1 I
to time. Sold br drumr<s<i_
—lafcBT
■iENSIO
B 3 yrsiuUat war, IS adjudicating J
OMAHA
OLD HATS
Business
House*1
Made new. no ir!1,'eys
dltiou they ;ir*.in
hrti. co..»i no.i* ‘ ]
Sl^TSTOVE BEPI
" rite at once for w 1 u
Omaha Sievekecair Works. 1209 Dodg»>
CLOTHING
Catalogue. containing sample* of cl'**1.
NEBRASKA CLOTHING
Cor. 14th Douglas Su
tit a/or r>o»* B'v *;
TOYSas^
H. nARuY a . 0.. 1319 Farnsm St-soi"
Cameras“„:
Hern i'hoio supply Co- Kxel»»''« ~ ji
r«rn»ni 8t- i maba. Kwrythif'S1D w“
for Profauioaals and Anuta* r