i : jj CHAPTER XVI. “Man Proposes; God Disposes.” Johnson did not die; that he lived 'through the terrible strain upon his vitality showed that he had an iron constitution, the doctors said; but the men at the tavern shook their heads over it, and looked meaningly at each other. They had their own opinion of the matter; perhaps they knew more -than the doctors did; the wise men r*' might open their eyes in amazement should they choose to tell their sus picions. Johnson was kept under the influence of opiates for three days and nights; he was not left alone one mo ment; they fed him on Mrs. Allen’s beef tea and drinks, and cared for him as though he were a baby, the men J said in half whispers—him, with mus cles like iron and cords lik^an ox. Lodie daily carried the news, brief items briefly told in his measured tones as they gathered in the outer room of the tavern of an evening, or called now and then across the ■drenched gardens to each other, or met .at the wells. And the women over their tubs, as they washed the clothes up and down, and soaped and rinsed and wrung them in clear water, leav ing them to soak till the storm should be over, gossiped about “this thet hev hap’d Johnsing,” and his girl, and the airs they put on since Lemuel John son—he who was born in the settle ment years ago—had come with his girl and his gold to see that his broth er should live like other folks, and was not so “no ’count an’ shefless.” Dolores, knowing nothing of these .-gossipings, and caring nothing for them, had she known, watched her father untiringly. She never com plained of being tired; she seldom ■spoke. Young Green had gone home, but he came over every day, bringing gen tile messages and delicacies. For three days Johnson lay in this stupor so like death, scarcely stir ring, not opening his eyes; his face was thin and drawn, his eyes sunken .»nd hollow; his hair, a few days be fore so lightly sprinkled with gray, had grown suddenly white. He had aged so that his every-day compan ions would not know him. Dolores saw this in silence; her thoughts were busy, but her lips were dumb. Young Green’s eyes had grown wonderfully keen to note the changes ■of the sweet, pale face, and the sha dows of the dark, wondering eyes. For he knew that he loved her. It had come upon him the first night as he stood behind her in the firelight and watched the pure face bent above the book on her knees. It had come al most like a blow at first, but full of a sweetness that was full of pain also, she was so high above him, she had never a thought of love, she had never even known what love was as others ilrnew it in the home life. And there •was a tenderness in the thought of how he—he, the first one in the world to show her what love might be— would prove to her the depth of its ;cnderness and holiness. At sunset the third day the rain ■- eased, and the mist dragged itself :rokenly across the peaks of the nountains; the hills were loud with :he cry of the swollen river in the alley, find the cascades shouted aloud us they leaped the riven sides of the . mountains to join the river and eat at he worn old bridge at the foot of the roadway. The rain had ceased at last, and Dr. ilunwiddie, who sat at the bedside, .■is eyes intent on the face of the girl, ■o grave and quiet in the light of the sunset, had raised the tipy window to let in the cool wind from the west. The clouds just above the distant peaks parted in sudden relenting after lliree days and nights of interminable raining, and through the rent the set Dolores slowly raised her head. ^ ting sun flooded the summit with a radiant glory that was dazzling. Dolores, as though roused by the sudden rush of the sunbeams, slowly raised her head and looked up to the radiant mountain. Her sad, dark eyes grew softer and deeper in color, and her lips set close as in sorrow, slowly parted in one of her rare smiles. As she turned her head the comb—an old fashioned tortoise shell that had been her mother’s—suddenly slipped from the heavy coil of her hair which, so loosened, fell in a mass of beauty, glinting, lustrous, about her. The nurse softly opened the door at that moment, bringing the doctor’s sup per, and a half baleful glitter appeared in her eyes as she saw the two so utterly unconscious of her presence. Dr. Dunwiddie suddenly sat erect, with his usual quiet dignity; the girl had startled him out of himself; he had forgotten everything but her. Her grave face, with its solemn eyes, touched by the sunset, framed by the heavy tresses of loosened hair, was like an exquisite Madonna, and he held his breath in admiration and mute wonder. As he noticed Mrs. Allen, however, he regained his composure, while Dolores gathered up her hair slowly, and stooped to pick up her comb. It had snapped in two. “You two are excellent nurses,” Mrs. Allen said, softly, a smile on her lips as she motioned with her head toward the bed. Dr. Dunwiddie turned at once with a slight exclamation, and Dolores V •“Your father will recover.” arose with the comb in her hand, her hair falling around her, her eyes dark as though tears were in them, her lips shut close. As she turned her eyes toward the bed she met full in hers the weak gaze of her father. Only for a moment, however, for the eyes closed almost immediately as though the light hurt them, but in that moment Dolores once more faced his soul with hers. Once more her father opened his eyes and looked first at the doctor, then at her. At the doctor’s sugges tion she spoke to him. “Father,” she said, slowly, that he might understand. “Father.” But the eyes resting on her face had no gleam of pleasure at seeing her there; rather it might be said there was a flash of hatred there as in the old days. Then they drooped again and closed, and presently his breath ing indicated that he slept. “Miss Johnson,” Dr. Dunwiddie said, by and by, as he sat by the window eating the supper Mrs. Allen had brought him, “I told you the other day that it was possible your father would not recover; do you remember?” She bowed her head in acquiescence but did not speak. “My dear Miss Johnson,” the doc tor’s voice was grave, but there was a ring in it, a hidden note that struck her ear as unusual. "My dear Miss Johnson, I believe I am safe in saying that your father will sleep through the night a natural, quiet slumber, without the aid of opiates, and if he does he will recover. He will be lame always; he will not have quite his old strength, but he will live and be much his old self again.” The grave, attentive face at the head of the bed changed not at all, though the drawn expression disap peared from around the mouth, and the eyes were clear and level in their gaze. * “ muuivui, . X-»UllVYiUUIC Wets uncertain whether or not the girl was glad of the news. She gave no sign, and said not a word, but stood grave, and stately, and womanly, with the shadows of the night gathering around her, stealing along the bed, across the face of the sleeper, and up and up toward her face. Suddenly they clutched at her throat, tightening their hold, like iron bands, ever contracting, growing firmer, unyielding; a thousand iron hands were on her, a thousand elfish voices, shrill and wild and weird, filled the corners of the room, the house; filled the darkness, crowding it upon her, till it seemed as though she were suffocating, till it seemed as though she would die. Loud and weird and terrible they were to her, filling her ears, shouting of the evil that had come through hatred and malice, and of what would follow upon so evil a deed. The hands were tightening their hold, they w'ere struggling one with another for the mastery; a dozen hands were torn from her throat only to be instantly replaced by others stronger and firmer. She caught at them, and struggled, she fought against them, but she dared not cry for help. This that she was suffering no one must know; they would know soon enough—every one. The voices grew wilder about her; they shouted In elfish glee; their words ran in together unmeaningly except one or two close to her ear, that whispered, with deadly meaning; "When your father is well enough to prove—to prove-” Then slowly she came out of this babal of noises; they grew fainter and fainter, and died away among the pines; the hands about her throat re: laxed. She looked around to see It she were safe; she was dazed, bewil dered, but her one thought was that no one must know. Some one spoke to her, and she looked up steadilfr', crowding down the dumb terror in her heart. Dr. Dunwiddle was stand ing beside her with his hand on her arm. “Mrs. Allen,” he said, quietly, "you will take my place for a few minutes. Miss Johnson must breathe some of this pure, sweet air after the storm.” He opened the door and stepped down on the door-stone, with Dolorei standing listlessly in the doorway, never showing that he had seen the flitting expression of—was it triumph? —on the woman’s face as she passed into the silent bedroom. “How pleasant everything is after the storm,” said Dr. Dunwiddle, with a smile, as he entered the house a few minutes later. Adding to himself as he re-entered the room beyond: “It was over-fatigue, and shall not happen again. And I think you will bear w'atching, as well as some others, Mrs. Allen.” CHAPTER XVII. The Freaks of a Woman. The sunlight flooded the mountains and the quiet settlement; the sky was deeply blue; the pines along the bank beside Dolores’ window stirred softly in the low wind that stole down from the summit laden with spicy odors. Down in the valley the river ran riot, shouting its jubilate as it swirled un der the rotten bridge and whirled in mad eddies up the coarse grass along its banks. Dr. Dunwiddie, standing in the door of the tavern, inhaling deep draughts of the odorous, piny air, watched Do lores with grave, intent eyes until she turned from the doorway and entered the quiet house; then he turned away and no one ever knew of what he was thinking, or the thoughts that would come of his friend over in the town who was leaving this girl in his care with the utmost confidence—the girl, he well know, whom Charlie loved. And should he betray his trust to his friend? Should he prove a traitor? Should he let this kindly feeling for this brave, beautiful, womanly girl grow into more than merely friendly feeling, knowing of his friend’s thought of the girl? Could he be capable of that? She was, to be sure, a wonder ful girl, shut in by her surroundings, but growing mentally thousands of miles beyond them. She was a woman a man should be proud to own as a friend—and more—in spite of' her strange, unfriendly life in the stolid little mountain settlement. But—and there was a graver line of thought, a sudden deepening of the lines of no bility around the set mouth under the black mustache—would the love of even such a woman atone in any de gree for the loss of manhood, the stain of a traitor? Charlie had left in his hands the care of the girl he loved, and he would never—he straightened himself up to his full height in the low doorway and unconsciously clenched his hands—he would never betray his friend. Charlie was worthy even Dolores Johnson, and he would never be guilty of even an attempt to come between him and the woman he loved, be she though she might, a woman with the strength and depth and nobility of character which the daughter of this mountain blacksmith possessed. Then he turned, and the face was as grave, as apparently unconcerned as usual, as Cinth^ called him to join the family at the table. Jones said among his comrades that Johnson’s ill luck had brought good luck to him, for during the years he had lived there, never before had so many such men as now' sought his. lodging. (To be continued.) Appearance in Her Favor. S. P. Langley, the aeronautical pioneer will never discuss flying ma chines with newspaper men, but on other topics he is not so reticent. He talked the other day about his boy hood. “Among the memories of my boy hood,” he said, “there is one odd episode that is particularly vivid. It is a conversation that I overheard one morning between two women. The women were talking about babies— their size, weight, health and so forth. “ ‘Why when I was a week ojd,’ said the first woman, T was such a little baby that they put me in a quart pot and put the lid on over me.' “The other woman was amazed horrified. ‘And did you live?’ shei asked. “ ‘They say I did,’ her friend an swered. “ ‘Well, well, well,’ exclaimed the second woman, and she gianced at the other almost doubtful.” A Nile Village. A traveler of the upper Nile thus describes a typical native village: ‘The houses are built of Nile mud, oach house accommodating a family of no matter of what size, the inhab itants of each village almost all re lated to each other, comprising some limes several hundreds of people. Their streets are littered with filth, animals of every kind obstruct one's hath, dogs growl and snarl at the ap pearance and intrusion of a stranger; women rush about, hiding their faces in their yashmaks lest a white man ihould behold their features. Flies in swarms settle on the children and lay their eggs on their eyelicfe, un washed, because they believe It* to be soutrary to their religion to wash or remove the flies from their eyes.” FARMERS AND TARIFF LANDS AND THEIR PRODUCTS EN HANCED IN VALUE. Higher Prices for What the Farmer Hat to Sell Have Accompanied the Prosperity Brought About by the Restoration of the Protection Pol icy. It Is some years now since the free trader has abandoned his wailings over the abandoned farms of New England and elsewhere. Under the most beneficent Influences of the Ding ley law, farm lands all over the en tire country have been increasing in value, and, according to inquiries re cently made by the American Agri culturist, the prices of farms through out New England and the East have advanced from 15 to 20 per cent over the values of five years ago. In al most every state where Investigations were made throughout New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Maryland, the reports show an upward average tendency of about 20 per cent, and in single in stances far more. In no case were any decline in values found, and although in a few cases the reports showed no particular change in value, yet in most cases there were evidences of a gain In the price of good average farms of 5, 10, 15 and 20 per cent, and in a few instancas running considerably high er. In Delaware the upward tendency has almost reached the nature of a boom. It has always been one of the princi pal tenets of the protectionist that the value of farm lands and farm products are enhanced according to their proximity to a manufacturing center. The closeness to a manufac turing town is, of course, of no value unless the inhabitants of that com the working classes, and there is plenty of money to loan at 5 per cent on satisfactory security. Thus It Is that protection helps the financial situation, at the same time that it defends our industries and en ables out great mass of citizens, whether at work on the farm or in the factory, to become Independent and well-to-do. It must ever be one of the greatest reasons given in favor of a continuation of our protective policy thai the benefits It bestows are wide spread and universal. There Is not a building up in one state or one section of the country; there Is no benefit to bQ bestowed upon any one branch of industry; ail share and share alike, and each helps the other In 9ne great interdependent endless chain' of communication. Jo it Is that when we have work tor all, then the mouths are filled and the bodies are clothed, and the houses are built, and the luxu ries are consumed, taxing every prod ductive Institution in the country; tax ing our transportation facilities to their utmost, and keeping busy our avenues of distribution and calling into employment our great body of clerical laborers, all in turn, contrib uting by their consuming power and purchasing ability to the common weal of all. Sureiy such a policy, such a condition should be let alone as long as prosperity and employment continue to be at the highest level ever known, not only in this, but an? other country. Labor’s Prosperity. Statistics Just published, which show the great increase in wages that has come during the year 1902 in the state of. Massachusetts, are of general Interest because there is no reason to regard the condition of wage-earners in that State as exceptional, It is beyond doubt an example of a condi tion that prevails throughout the counti y. The wage-earners of Massachusetts EVERY TOOTH A SOUND ONE. ■ munity are earning good and continual wages. This has been the condition now for several years under our pres ent protective tariff, and in conse quence farmers have gotten better prices for their products, and their lands have enhanced in value propor tionately. The Eastern farmer cannot, of course, compete with the Western ag riculturist in the great crops, but when the factory hands of the New England and Middle States are fully employed there is always a demand for farm produce which eomes under the head of "truck farming,” fully equal to the productive ability of the entire farming community of these Eastern states. In fact, the only dif ficulty which the New England farm er has experienced during the past two or three years has been the same as that of the Western agriculturist— namely, inability to get sufficient help to enable him to produce and harvest his products. Says the American Agriculturist of July 25: “Slowly but surely the values of farm lands in the "Eastern and New England states are improving. The evidences arrayed in the American Agriculturist’s special investigation should make an impress for the better ment cf the farmer’s financial stand ing. Granted that the splendid agri cultural lands of the West are most attractive propositions, yet there is no reason why the progressive farmer of the Middle and Eastern states should not be accorded due considera tion from banks and business inter ests generally, when loans are sought for the further improvement of the farms. The testimony of our corre spondents on the higher trend of values should inspire greater confi dence than ever before in the merits of Eastern farming, where we have the best cash markets in the world at our doors. Land in some of our East ern and New England states is now reUiivaly among the best business propositions in the country.” We fully agree with the above, that the Eastern farmer is entitled to every consideration at the hands of the banks. Twenty years ago he was lending his money to build up the agricultural lands of the West. A few years of protection has enabled the Western agriculturist to either pay off his mortgage entirely, or reduce it most materially, and now the farmers of the West have money to loan, and their banks are bulging not only with the necessary currency needed in the moving crops, but to loan on good security, to even the East if it should be wanted. But our New England banks, too, and those of the Middle States are bulging with the savings of received in 1902 from their employers the sum of $193,552,175, which was nearly sixteen millions more than their rota' wages in the previous year. The average earnings of the individ ual workers in all industries was $459.98, which was $10.29 more than in the previous year. In six of the nine leading Industries of the State moro was done, either through the employment of more hands or through the putting in or more time, in 1902 and in 1901. The fertilizing manufacturing in dustry shows the largest per cent, in crease in the total amount of wages paid out—81.84. The shoe industry is next with an increase of 28-12 pef cent. Employes of the malt distiller ies command the highest wages, av eraging $862 a year. Workers on models, lasts and patterns in the shoe industry are next with average yearly earnings cf $740.42. Such figures as these prove that there is little justification for the cry that has been raised frequently by agitators, that the wage-earners were not getting their share of the general prosperity.—Albany Evening Journal. The Reason for Tariff Wars. Protection is held responsible for tariff wars, but the action of France in imposing discriminating duties on American meats because the manufac turers of that country wish to force upon us wares which we do not want, shows where the responsibility lies. Tariff wars are entirely chargeable to the desire to push upon other people what can not be consumed at home. Protection only aims at self sufficing ness. When that idea is strictly ad hered to no one has a right to take offense. It Is as illogical for a nation to find fault with another nation be cause it refuses to buy goods from it as it would be for a Kearny street shop keeper to call people who refused to buy from him hard names.—San Fran cisco Chronicle. Guilty! The Springfield Republican thinks the “high tariff is now on trial, as never before, as the great causative and saving factor in the business pros perity of the nation.” The verdict will be “Guilty.” The high tariff is, without question or ex tenuating circumstances, “thecausative and saving factor in the business prosperity of the nation.” Weakest Point. Free trade’s weakest point is that It would cheapen things for the rich at the expense of the wage earner.—Val ley Mills