I I
■
THE BEST MAN
By
Grace Livingston Hill Lutz
Author of "Marcia Schuyler,” "Dawn of the Morning,"
"Lo, Michael 1" etc.
Philadelphia ft London.
J. B. Lippincott Company.
1914.
CHAPTER XIII.—(Continued).
The girl could not solve the problem,
but the,thought was most startling and
brought with it many suggestive possi
bilities that were most disturbing. V'et
gradually out of the darkness she drew
a sort of comfort in her dawning en
lightenment. Two things she had to go
on tnhdr strange premises, he had said
he did not write the letters, and his hair
was not the same. Who then was he?
Her hosband now undoubtedly, but
who? And If deeds and hair could
thaiigo so materially, why not spirits?
At least he was not the same as she
had feared and dreaded. There was so
much comfort.
And at last she lay down and slept.
CHAPTER XIV'.
They were late coming into Wash
ington. for the special had been side
tracked in the night for several express
trains, and tbs noisy crowd who had
kept one another awake till after mtd
night made up by sleeping far into the
nornlng.
Three times did Gordon make the
journey three cars front to see if his
tompanlon of yesterday were awake
tr.d needed anything, but each time
'ound the curtains drawn and still,
ind each time he went slowly hack
again to his seat In the crowded day
loach.
It was not until the white dome of the
apttal, and the tall needle of the monu
ment, were painted soft and vision-like
lgainst the sky, reminding one of the
pictures of the heavenly city in the
itory of Pilgrim's Progress, and faintly
njggosting a new and visionary world,
that he sought her again, and found her
fully ready, standing In the aisle while
the porter put up the berth out of the
way. Beneath the great brim of her
purple hat, where the soft fronds of her
plumes trembled with the motion of the
train, she lifted sweet eyes to hikn, as
If she were both glad and frightened
So see him. And then that ecstasy shot
through him again, as he realized, sud
denly what It would be to have her
for his life-companion, to feci her looks
of gladness were all for him, and have
the right to take all fright uway from
tier.
They could only smile at each other
for good morning, for everybody was
Handing up and being brushed, and
pushing here and there for suit cases
and lost umbrellas; and everybody
talked loudly, and laughed a great
deal, and told how late the train was.
Then at last they were there, and could
get out and walk silently side by side
'n the noisy procession through the
itatlon to the sidewalk.
What little things sometimes change
a lifetime, and make for our safety ot
our destruction! That very morninp
three keen watchers were set to guard
that station at Washington to hunt out
the government spy who had stolen the
stolen message, and take him, message
knd all, dead or alive, back to New
York; for the man who could testify
against the Holman Combination was
not to be let live If there was such a
thing as getting him oue of the way.
But they never thought to watch the
Special which was suposed to carry
only delegates to the great convention
He could not possibly be on that! They
knew he was coming from Pittsburgh
for they had been so advised by tele
gram the evening before by one of their
company who had seen him buying a
sleeper ticket for Washington, but they
felt safe about the Special, for they
had made inquiries and been told nc
one but delegates could possibly cornt
on it. They hnd done their work thor
oughly, and were on hand with every
l possible plan perfected for bagging
their game, hut they took the tltm
when the Pittsburgh Special was ex
pected to arrive for eating a hearty
breakfast In the restaurant across tilt
street from the station. Two of then:
emerged from the restaurant in plenty
of time to meet the next Pittsburg)
train, just as Gordon, having placed th<
lady in a closed carriage, was getting ir
himself.
If the carriage had stood in any othei
spot along the pavement In front of tin
station, they never would have seei
him, but, as it was, they had a full vie**
of him; and because they were Wash
ington men, and experts In their line
they recognized him at once, and knew
their plans had failed, and that only b.*
extreme measures could they hope t(
prevent the delivery of the messag*
which would mean downfall and dis
aster to them and their schemes.
As Gordon slammed shut the door o
the carriage, he caught a vision of hi:
two enemies pointing excitedly towarc
him, and he knew that the blood
hounds were on the scont. His hear
beat wildly. His anxiety was divide*
between the message and the lady
What should he do? Drive at once t<
the home of hla chief and deliver thi
message, or leave the girl at his rooms
’phone for a faster conveyance an*
trust to getting to his chief ahead o
his pursuers?
"Don't let anything hinder you! Don'
let anything hinder you! Make it i
matter of life and death!" rang the Ut
tie ditty in his ears, und now it seemei
ns If he must go straight ahead witl
tile message. And yet—“a matter o
life and death!" He could not, mus
not, might not, take the indy with hlti
into danger. If he must be in dange
of death lie did not jvant to die havlnj
exposed an Innocent stranger to th
same.
Then there was another point to b
thought of.
He had already told the driver t
take him to his apartments, and to drlv
as rapidly as possible. It would not *1
to stop him now and change the <llre<
tions, for a plstol-slmt could easll
reach him yet; and, coining from
crowd, who would be suspected? Hi
enemies were standing on the throsho!
of a place where there were many <
their kind to protect them, and none n
his friends knew of his coining. 1
would be a race for life from now on t
the finish.
Celia was looking out with intere?
at the streets, recognizing landmark
with wonder, and did not notice Gor
don’s white, set face and burning eye
as he strained Ills vision to note ho*
fast the horse was going. Oh, if th
driver would only turn off at the nr*
corner Into the side street they eoul
not watch the carriage so fur. but i
was not likely, for this was the mo?
direct troad. and yet—yes, lie ha
turned: toy! The street here was s
< - •' t : t he had sought the nav
» " Cd way that he migii
IS
go the faster.
It seemed an age to him before they
stopped at his apartments. To Celia,
it had been but a short ride, in which
familiar scenes had brought her pleas
ure, for she recognized that she was
not In strange Chicago, but in Wnsh
j ington, a city often visited. Somehow
she felt it was an omen of a better
future than she iiad feared.
“Oh, why didn't you tell me?" she
smiled to Gordon. “It is Washington,
dear old Washington."
Somehow he controlled the tumult In
his heart and smiled back, saying in
a voice quite natural:
"I am so glad you like It.”
She seemed to understand that they
could not talk until they reached a
quiet place somewhere, and she did not
trouble him with questions. Instead—
she looked from the window, or watched
him furtively, comparing him with her
memory of George Hayne, and wonder
ing in her own thoughts. She was
glad to have them to herself for Just
this little bit, for now that the morn
ing had come she was almost afraid
of revelation, what it might bring forth.
And so It came about that they took
the swift ride in more or less silence,
and neither thought it strange.
As the carriage stopped, he spoke
with low, hurried voice, tense with ex
citement, but her own nerves were on
a strain also, and she did not notice.
“We get out here.”
He had the fare ready for the driver,
and, stepping out, hurried Celia Into the
shelter of the hallway. It happened that
an elevator had just come down, so It
was but a second more before they were
up safe in the hall before his own
apartment.
Taking a latch key from Ills picket,
he applied It to the door, flung it open,
and ushered Celia to a largo leather
chair In the middle of the room. Then,
stepping quickly to tho side of the room,
he touched a bell, and from It went to
the telephone, wltji an "Excuse me,
please, this Is necessary," to the girl,
who sat astonished, wondering at the
homelikeness of the room and at the
"at-homeness” of tho man. She had
expected to be taken to a hotel. This
seemed to be a private apartment with
which he was perfectly acquainted.
Perhaps It belonge to some friend. But
how, after an absence of years, could
ho remember just where to go, which
door and which elevator to take, and
how to fit the key with so accustomed
a hand? Then her attention was ar
rested by his voice:
"Give me 254 L please," he said. . .
"Is this 254 E? . . . Is Mr. Osborne
in? . . . You say he has not gone
to the office yet? . . . May I speak
with him? ... Is this Mr. Os
borne? ... I did not expect you to
know my voice . . . Yes, sir; just
arrived, and all safe so far. Shall I
bring It to the house or the office?
. . . The house? . . . All right,
sir. Immediately. ... By tlje way,
I am sure Hale and Burke are on my
track. They saw me at the station.
. . . To your house? . . . Y'ou
will wit until i come? ... All
right, sir. Yes, Immediately. . . .
Sure, I’ll take precaution.
Good-by."
With the closing words came a tap
at the door.
"Come, Henry," lie answered, as the
astonished girl turned toward the door.
"Henry, you will go down, please, to
the restaurant, and bring up a menu
card. This lady will select what she
would like to have, and you will serve
breakfast for her in this room as soon
its possible. I shall be out for perhaps
an hour, and, meantime, you will obey
any orders she tnay give you.”
He did not Introduce her as his wife,
but she did not notice the omission,
Sho bud suddenly become aware of a
strange, distraught haste In his man
ner, and when lie said he was going
out alarm seized her, she could not tell
nrVti*
The man bowed deferentially to his
master, looked his admiration and de
votion to the lady, waited long enough
to say:
‘Tse mighty glad to see you safe
back, sah—” and disappeared to obey
orders.
Celia turned toward Gordon for ar
explanation, but be was already at the
telephone again:
"46! * * * Is this the Garage'
* * * This the the Harris apart
ments. * * * Can you send Thomas
with a closed car to the rear door im
mediately? * * • Yes. • • * No
■ 1 want Thomns, and a car that car
speed. * * * Yes, the rear door
rear, and at once. • • • What!
* • • What’s that? • • • But ]
must. « • * ifB official business
* * * Well, I thought so. Hurry
them up. Goodby."
He turned and saw her troubled goz<
following him with growing fear in hei
eyes.
"What is the matter?" she askec
anxiously. "Has something happened'.’’
Just one moment he paused, and
coming toward her, laid his hands or
hors tenderly.
"Nothing the matter at all,” he sale
soothingly. "At least nothing that neei
worry you. It is Just a matter of pres
Sing business. I’m sorry to have to g(
, from you for a little while, but it ii
i necessary. I cunnot explain to you un
til I return. You will trust me? Yoi
, will not worry?"
' “I will try!”
Her lips were quivering, and her eye:
, were filled with tears. Again he fel
that intense longing to lay his lips upoi
-, hers and comfort her, but he put 1
. from him.
, "There is nothing to feel sad about,'
lie said, smiling gently. "It Is nothin!
,. tragic only there is need for haste, fo
i if 1 wait, I may’ fail yet- It is some
s thing that means a great deal to me
l When I come back I will explain all."
r "Go!" she said, putting out her hand;
f in a gesture of resignation, as if sh;
i would hurry him from her. Am
, though she was burning to know wha
it all meant there was that about hin
( that compelled her to trust him and ti
< wait.
Then his control almost went fron
3 him. He nearly took those hands ii
, his and kissed them, but he did not. In
p slead. he went with swift steps to hi
t bedroom door, threw open a chlffonie
I drawer, and took therefrom somethin!
t small and sinister. She could see th
t gleam of Its polished metal, and sh
1 sensed a strange little menace In th
, click as he did something to it, sh
- could not see wha: vbecause his back wa
t to her. He came out with his baud L
his pocket, as if he had just hidden
something there.
She was not familiar with firearms. '
Her mother had been afraid of them i
and her brother had never flourished
any arnuml the house, yet she knew by I
instinct that some weapon of defense
was in (Jordon's possession; and a'
nameless horror rose in her heart and j
shone from her blue eyes, but she would
not speak a word to tet him know it. If
he had not been in such haste, he would
have seen. Her horror would have been
still greater if she had known that he j
already carried one loaded revolver and
was taking a second in case of an |
, emergency.
"Don't worry.” lie called as he hur
! tied out the door. "Henry will get ;
! anything you need, and I shall soon be !
| back.”
The door closed and he was gone. She
] heard his quick step down the hall, i
j heard the elevator door slide and slam
again, and then she knew he was gone
down. Outside an automobile sounded
and she seemed to hear again his words
at the phone. ‘ The rear door.” Why had
he gone to tile rear door? Was he in
hiding? Was he flying from someone?
What, oh what, did it mean?
Without stopping to reason It out, she
flew across the loom and opened the
door of the bedroom he had just left. 1
then through it passed swiftly to a
bathroom beyond. Yes, there was a!
window. Would it be the one? Could,
site see him? And what good would
it do her if she could?
She crowded close to the window.
There was a heavy sasit with stained
glass, but she selected a clear bit of
yellow and put her eye close. Yes,
there was a closed automobile just be
low her, and it had started away from
tile building. He had gone. then.
Where?
Her mind was a blank for a few
minutes. She went slowly, mechanical
ly back to the other room without no
ticing anything about her, sat down in
the chair, putting her hands to her
temples, and tried to think. Back to
the moment in the church where he
had iippeared at her side and the serv
ice had begun. Something had told
her than that he was different, and yet
there had been those letters, and how
could it possibly be that he had not
written them? Ho was gone on some
dangerous business. Of that she felt
sure. There had been some caution
given him by the man to whom he first
’phoned. He had promised to take pre
caution—that meant the little, wicked,
gleaming thing in his pocket. Per
haps some harm would come to him,
and she would never know. And then
she stared at tho opposite wall witli
wonder filled eyes. Well, and suppose it
did? Why did she care? Was he not
the man whose power overjher but
two short days ago would have made
her welcome death as her deliverer?
Why was all changed now? Just be
cause he had smiled upon her and been
kind? Had given her a few wild flow
ers and said tier eyes were like them?,
Had hair that waved instead of being
straight and thin? And where was all
her loyalty to her dear dead father’s
memory? How could she mind that
danger should come to one who had
threatened to tell terrible lies that
should blacken him in the thoughts of
people who had loved him? Had she
forgotten the letters? Was she willing
to forgive all just because he had de
clared that he did not write them?
How foolish! He said he could prove
that he did not, but of course that
was all nonsense. lie must have writ
ten them. And yet there was the wave
in his hair, and the kindness in his
eyes. And he had looked—oh, he had
looked terrible things when he had
read that letter; as if he would like
to wreak vengeance on the man who
had written It. Could a man masquer
ade that way?
And then a new solution to the prob
lem came to her. Suppose this—who
ever he was—this man who had mar
ried her, had gone out to find and
punish George Hayne? Suppose—
But then she covered her eyes with
her hands and shuddered. Yet why
should she care? But she did. Sup
pose ho should be killed, himself! Who
was he if not George Hayne and how
did he come to take his place? Was
it just another of George's terrible
tricks upon her?
A quick vision came of their bring
ing him back to her. He would lie,
perhaps, on that great crimson leather
couch over there, just its he had lain
in the dawning of the morning in the
stateroom of the train, with his hands
hanging limp, and one perhaps across
his breast, as if he were guarding
something, and his bright waves of
brown hair lying heavy about his
forehead—only, his forehead would be
white, so white and cold, with a little
blue mark in his temple, perhaps.
Tho footsteps of the man Henry
brought her back to the present again.
She smiled at him pleasantly as ho
entered, and answered his questions
about what she would have for break
fast; but it was he who selected the
menu, not si e, and after he had gone
she could net have told what she had
ordered. She could not get away from
the vision on the couch. She closed
her eyes and pressed her cold fingers
against her eyeballs to drive it away,
but still her bridegroom seemed to lie
there before her.
j ne colored man came back pres
ently with a loaded tray, and set it
down on a little table which he wheeled
before her, as though he had done it
many times before. She thanked him,
and said there was nothing else she
needed, so he went away.
She toyed with the cup of delicious
coffee which he had poured for her,
and the few swallows she took gave
her new heart. She broke a bit from
a hot roll, and ate a little of the de
licious steak, but still her mind was
at work at the problem, and her heart
was full of nameless anxiety.
He had gone away without any
breakfast himself, and he had had no
supper the night before, she was sure.
He probably had given to her every
thing he could get on the train. She
was haunted with regret because she
had not shared them with him. She
got up and walked about the room,
trying to shake off the horror that was
upon her, and the dread of what the
morning might bring forth. Ordinarily
she would have thought of sending a
message to her mother and brother,
but her mind was so troubled now that
it never occurred to her.
The walls of the room were tinted a
soft greenish gray, and above the pic
ture molding they blended Into a
woodsy landscape with a hint of water,
greensward, and blue sky through in
, terlacing branches. It reminded her
of the little village they had seen as
; they started from the train in the early
morning light. What a beautiful day
' they had spent together and how it
• had changed her whole attitude of
heart toward the man she had mnr
1 ried!
“ Two or three fine pictures were hung
1 fn good lights. She studied them, and
■ knew that the one who had selected
i and lumg them was a Judge of true
> art: but they did not hold her atten
tion long, for as yet she had not con
t nected the room with the man for
i whom she watted.
A handsome mahogany desk stood
i open in a broad space by the window,
r She was attracted by a little painted
: miniature of a woman. She took it
9 up and studied the face. It was fine
9 and sweet, with brown hair dressed
9 low. and eyes that reminded her of
9 the man who had Just gone from her.
9 I Was this, then, the home of some reta
il tlve with whom he had come to stop
for a day or two, and. If so, where was
the relative'.' The dress in the minia
ture was of a quarter of a century
past, yet the face was young and
sweet, as young, perhaps, as herself.
She wondered who it was. She put the
miniature back in place with caressing
hand. She felt that she would like to
know this woman with the tender eyes.
She wished her here now, that she
might tell her all her anxiety.
Her eye wandered to the pile of let
ters, some of them official looking
ones, one or two in square, perfumed
envelopes with high, angular writ
ing. They were all addressed
to Mr. Cyril Gordon. That was
strange! Who was Mr. Cyril Gordon?
What had they—what had she—to do
with him? Was he a friend whom
George—whom they—were visiting for
a few days? It was all bewildering.
Then the telephone rang.
Her heart beat wildly and she looked
toward it as if it had been a human
voice speaking and she had no power
to answer. What should she do now?
Should she answer? Or should site wait
for the man to come? Could the man
hear the telephone bell or was she per
haps expected to answer? And yet if
Mr. Cyril Gordon—well, somebody
ought to answer. The 'phone rang in
sistently once more, and still a third
lime. What if he should bo calling her!
Perhaps he was in distress. This
thought sent her flying to the 'phone.
She took down the receiver and called:
"Hello!" and her voice sounded far
away to herself.
“Is this Mr. Gordon’s apartment?”
‘ Yes,” she answered, for her eyes
were resting on the pile of letters close
at hand.
“Is Mr. Gordon there?” -
“No, he is not,” she answered, grow
ing more confident now and almost
wishing she had not presumed to an
swer a stranger's 'phone.
"Why, I just 'phoned to the office and
they told me he had returned," said a
voice that had an imperious note in it.
“Are you sure he isn't there?”
“Quite sure,” she replie.d.
“Who is this, please?”
“I beg your pardon," said Celia try
ing to make time and knowing not how
to reply. She was not any longer Miss
Hathaway. Who was she? Mrs. Hayne?
She shrank from the name. It was
filled with horror for her. “Who is this,
I said,” snapped the other voice now.
“Is this the chambermaid? Because if
it is I’d like you to look around and
inquire and be quite sure that Mr. Gor
don isn't there. I wish to speak with
him about something very important.”
Celia smiled.
“No, this is not the chambermaid,”
she said, sweetly, “and I am quite sure
Mr. Gordon is not here.”
"How long before he will be there?”
“I don’t know really, for I have but
just come myself."
"Who Is this to whom I am talking?”
“Why—just a friend,” she answered,
wondering if that were the best thing
to say.
“Oh!” there was a long contemplative
pause at the other end.
“Well, could you give Mr. Gordon a
message when he comes in?”
"Why certainly, I think so. Who is
tliis ?”
“Miss Bentley. Julia Bentley. He'll
know,” replied the imperious one eager
ly now. “And tell him please that he
is expected here to dinner tonight. We
need him to complete the number, and
he simply mustn’t fail me. I’ll excuse
him for going off in such a rush if he
comes early and tells me all about it.
Now you won’t forget, will you? You
got the name, Bentley, .did you?
B, E, N, T, L, E, Y, you Know. And
you'll tell him the minute he comes
in'?"
"Yes."
"Thank you! What did you say your
name was?”
But Celia had hung up. Somehow
the message annoyed her, she could
not tell why. She wished she had not
answered the 'phone. Whoever Mr.
Cyril Gordon was what should she do
if he should suddenly appear? And as
for the imperious lady and her mes
sage she hoped she would never have
to deliver it. On second thought why
not write it and leave it on his desk
with the pil.e of letters? She would
do it. It would serve to pass away a
few of these dreadful minutes that
lagged so distressfully.
She sat down and wrote: "Miss Bent
ley wishes Mr. Gordon to dine with her
this evening. She will pardon his run
ning away the other day if he will come
early." She laid it beside the high
angular writing on the square per
fumed letters and went back to the
leather chair, too restless to rest yet
too weary to stand up.
She went presently to the back win
dows to look out, and then to the side
ones. Across the housetops she could
catch a glimpse of domes and buildings.
There was the Congressional library,
which usually delighted her with its
exquisite tones of gold and brown and
white. But she had no eyes for It now.
Beyond were more buildings, all set In
the lovely foliage which was much far
ther developed than It had been in New
York state. From another window she
could get a glimpse of the Potomac
shining in the morning sun.
She wandered to the front windows
and looked out. There were people
passing and repassipg. It was a busy
street, t but she could not make out
whether it was one she knew or not.
Thera were two men walking back and
forth on the opposite side. They did
not go further than the corner of the
street either way. They looked
across at the windows sometimes
and pointed up, when they met,
and once one of them took some
thing out of his pocked and flashed
It under his coat at his side, as if
to have It ready for use. It reminded
her of the thing her husband had held
in his hand in the bedroom and she
shuddered. She watched them, fasci
nated, not able to draw herself away
from the window.
Now and then she would go to the
rear window, to see if there was any
sign of the automobile returning, and
then hurry back to the front, to see
if tlie men were still there. Once she
returned to the chair, and, lying back,
shut her eyes, and let the memory
of yesterday sweep over her In all its
sweet details, up to the time when they
had got into the way train and she
had seemed to feel her disloyalty to
her father. But now her heart was all
on the other side, and she began to
feel that there had been some dread
ful mistake, somewhere, and he was
surely all right. He could not, could
: not have written those terrible letters
Then again the details of their wild
j carriage ride in Pittsburgh and mlr
i aculous escape haunted her. There
i was something strange and unexplained
about that which she must understand.
tContlnued next week.)
There W«s a Reason. .
From the Richmond Tlmes-Dispateh.
Gpubbs—I’m told Jinks’ cook has left
him. but he seems perfectly cheerful. I
can’t understand It.
Stubbs—That’s because you never dined
with Jinks while the late cook was on the
I Job.
—
Heard Across the Styx.
! From the Birmingham Age-Herald.
“Cleopatra seems cross this morning,"
I remarked the first shade.
I “You can’t blame her for that," an
swered the second shade.
; “Whnt’s the matter?”
I "As one of the most famous exponents
I of the vampire business the world has
I ever known, it vexes her to see how the
i movies are cheapening her art."
i
THE GREATEST KINDNESS.
Hrs. Pryor Give* Some Practical SnjgM
t Ions for Seasonable Charities.
I consider tlio highest and most char
itable of acts that kindness which re
instates and places in a jiosition of
usefulness the man of genius and re
finement, who may have, through sud
den and unforeseen misfortune, been
deprived of means and opportunity to
Berre his fellow man. My reasons for
this are these: The capabilities of such
persons to be eminently useful is
great. The ignorant and vulger
demand, and should receive our help
When they suffer, but their possibili
ties of usefulness are small by com
parison with those of educated and re
Qne.d men and women. To educate
them and raise the lower to the the
higher place is a grand charity; but
its results must be more or less doubt
ful. The torch put by charity into
their hands may become a beacon of
tight and may become an engine of
destruction. But the great soul that
has been smitten by undeserved mis
fortune will, if reinstated, never fail
of its highest duty. The charity that
Inspires anew such a spirit has an ad
ditional claim to be considered the
highest, because the help must he at
tained, with infinite delicacy and se
crecy. There can be no counsel be
tween the left and right hand; no re
ward can come from the applause of
the world. It requires greatness of
soul to perform a grand got of charity
In secret, and greatness of soul for a
noble man or woman to receive it.
Robert Hall says: "I reckon the high
est benevolence to be that extended to
the unfortunate gentleman, for, in ad
dition to the pangs of poverty, he feels
the stings of an outraged sensibility.
S.\ it a A. Pry on,
DESIGN FOR CALENDAR.
h
An Unexpected Salute.
A curious incident of the closing
tcenes of the American Civil War is
related by a correspondent of a St.
Louis newspaper. After General
3 rant had received General Leo's
terms of surrender at Appomattox ami
tccepted them, some one—not General
Grant—ordered the firing of a salute
»f one hundred guns in token of vic
tory. The salute General Grant qt*ick
!y stopped, as he wished that every
means should be taken to spare the
lensibilitios of the brave men who hail
ivirrendered. The proceedings went
t>n quietly, and the surrender was
rompleted. All was over, and peace
had succeeded war. when a strange
and irregular fusillade of musketry
was heard from the field of battle.
More than that, the air about the field
was filled with whistling bullets. What
had caused a re-opening of hostilities?
Simply this the muskets of the Con
federate soldiers had been allowed to
remain stacked on the field. So sud
denly had the fighting ceased on the
morning of the 9tli of April that thous
ands of pieces were left loaded. In
some way the dry spring grass on tile
Held caught fire, and the blaze ran
amougst the slacked guns. They were
heated to the point of explosion, and
soon the fusillade began. Most of the
pieces were pointed upwards, and the
bulleta rose until their force was spent,
and then fell upon the ground. Others
were pointed at an angle, and sent their
bullets far. On that spot the ground is
to this day strewn with bullets, and any
one may pick them up who will. This
was the only salute which celebrated
the surrender of Lee
=_=_= }
A Pret ty Bonk ('or«>r.
The covering of books with chamois^
silk, or fine linen has come to be a
positive art. By means of It, a paper
bound volume may be transformed
Into something rich and dainty by a
pair of clever bands at home. A vol
ume copy of “Old Bove Betters” was
seen not long ago which had been ^
charmingly decorated by the outer slip v
which was made of what is called
“sad-colored” silk. On It the title had
been embroidered in subdued tints, k
true lover’s knot encircled the words,
and from it a few scattered forget-m*
nots were drooping. The effect was
exquisite, and yet It was done by no
experienced embroiderer.
BEGINNING THE YEAR BADLY.
“Say, Moso, nice coat yo’s got on.
What’s de price ob one like dat?” \
Moso—1 dunno. Do shop keepah war
out at de time I got it.
A Remarkable Cat.
Thl3 city can boast of many wonder- i
fill things, but one of the most wonder- ^
ful and inconceivable stories reached
the car of a reporter recently. The au
thor of the story is a direct descendant
of (leorge Washington aud ids verac
ity is beyond question. A few daya
ago liis daughter lost a valuable ear- ^
ring. When the loss was announced
the entire family and even the neigh
bors scoured the grounds about the
house and even the streets for blocks
beyond, but the search proved fruit
less, and the earring had seemingly
disappeared forever.
The family wherein the loss occurred
are possessors of a large and handsome
tabby cat. The animal is a great pet
of the family aud it has the run of the
entire house. One of its habits is to
crawl into bed with tlie children at
early morning. Yesterday morning,
pussy, as was her usual wont, came to
the children’s chamber on her morn
ing rounds, but she seemed to be in
great distress. At times she would
try to dislodge from her throat some
tiling that troubled her greatly. Sud
denly she gave a convulsive gasp and
•rom her mouth dropped the diamond
tarring.
When the discovery was heralded
.hroughout the house, pussy was the
lernine of tile hour. Derby Trans
cript.
McFlngle—“Mrs. (lopliast Is a grass
widow, isn’t she?”
MeFsngle—‘‘I never knew it. Why?”
McFingle—“Her husband died of i.ay
fever."—Lawrence A merman.
JUST THE SEASON.
•Where are yon toing, my ^nrkry n*;jr
“I am Ruing a-walking, sir!" she raid.
“You had better be careful, iny Turkey mak^ R
Or somtosa will axe you. miss." he said, |R