CHAPTER XVIL
It was the next morning.
"A lady for you, niiss; Mrs. Flouncet
and a servant of the hotel ushered in Mis
Smythe's friend.
"My dear girl, what made you come
here? I have only juat learned of jour
whereabouts from that terrible German
Jew "
"Terrible, Mrs. Flouncet V
"Fancy, he was at my house at break
of day. Meant w?il, I dare say, but it
would Dever do to have a Jew seen about
the place. I treated him as coldly as pos
sible"
"Oh, Mrs. Flouncet, how could you?"
'Iear child. West Kensington has its
prejudices, to which one must conform.
Put on your hat and let us drive home
quickly. I received Miss Smythe's letter,
telling me of you, a week ago. Odd crea
ture, isn't she? Stay, I can't possibly
take you back like that. L'nlucky about
your trunk, Ls it not? Tell me, does Rus
sian green become you?"
"And he was so kind "
"Whom are you talking of? Ah, that
German Jew. Well, he was kind, no
doubt. But we are not stony-hearted,
either. You should never have accepted
his kindness, dear. Why did you not
drive straight to me? But, come, no more
sarcasm. We're going to welcome yon
very warmly at Kensington, to cure you
of all your prejudices, even in favor of
Oennan .Tews. I positively shudder when
I remember that man his pronunciation:
hi nose. This is my shop. I'm sure
Russian green will become you; but
choose just as if you were my daughter."
So, laughing and chatting, the lady of
West Kensington preceded the girl into
a large, handsome shop, and before long
they were driving away with a large,
wll-filled box.
One week kter Elizabeth wrote a long
letter home:
"pear Mother and Nora So here I am
In Stonemar. You got my letter telling
you of my arrival, I suppose. Well, now I
will tell you as much of the Stonemnrians
as I well can after eight days spent in
their midst To begin at the beginning:
Mrs. Flouncet put me in the train and
wished me every happiness.
"Now to the Dosems. He is a cipher,
and acknowledges her superiority, which
la, of course, as it ought to be. She is
exceedingly clever, but there's one thing
about her I don't like, she has crazes.
"Ope of these is homeopathy. Almost
the first thing on my arriving, she asked
me: 'Did I believe in homeopathy?'
"I believe, mother, when I put this Mrs.
Dosem into one of my novels, there will
not be a reviewer in England but will
say she is that impossible thing an im
possible Englishwoman: and to think she
is this minute sitting opposite me, with
"Stuart Mill' on her lap. :;isd a box of what
Tom would call 'weeny' pills beside her a
real live production of the English town
of Stonemar.
"You need not be surprised if my let
ters by degrees assume a homeopathic,
philosophical coloring. Metaphysics, nl-
trnism and pills form the themes of our
conversations.
"Now, good-by. It's fun studying
'types.' Your own old
"BET."
So much for first impressions.
Here is a letter written uine months
afterward :
"Family I am weary. Darlings, I am
homesick. Comedy, comedy, comedy, and
no love. Whilst I write my letters 1 am
dying of homesickness. Whilst I laugh
at them, the tears are burning behind my
eyes.
"They are not bad. Folk tell me they
are very kind. Feople are never more
than 'kind' in England, I believe. Is one
o old at eighteen that one should need
nothing but 'kindness'? that one should
need no love?
"My darlings, when "
Here the letter stopped. It was never
ent to Eck.
Three month afterward the writer.
Elizabeth, was in ber home again.
CHAPTER XVIII.
"My childl"
"My own dear Elizabeth!"
"Dear ones, yes; crush me. It's lovely
to feel your arms about me. Another
kiac, my mother! Where's your hand,
Nora? Home again! borne! home!" and
in sheer joy the tears ran down the girl's
face. "My dear ones, how do you look?
1 cannot see you. My happiness blinds
me. Home! home!"
Great joy is pitiful to see; as pitiful as
great sadness.
"Home! home!" and the tears poured
down the girl's face.
Why wu she so glad to be home?
"And there's work for me, my mother?"
"Yes, dear."
"And I shall be no drag on yon?"
"Drag, child? No, never."
"Mother."
"What, dear?"
"It's dark. Bend down to me."
The mother bent and the girl kissed her
passionately on ber forehead and cheeks,
ogain and agnin.
"Three hundred and sixty-five nights,
mother, nnd no one to kiss one and say
good night. Three hundred and sixty-five
sings, and no one to kiss one and say
morning. Oh, I ni so, so happy! I
think my happiness will kill me!"
They had reached their hall door
"What" that a letter from Dorry,
Nora?
-Tea."
It waa Dorry's remittance, addressed
to Nora. Dorry never addressed money
to ber mother. She begged Nora to spend
It
To "aether" there waa ooly a loving
WWT , 'J
Piifwt ,. Tii think t shall he home in
two at -ft taoBtba. Perhaps Bet it home
now. Never mind! Her happiness will
be stale when mine la fresh.
"I kiss my mother on her hand and
cheeks, as do the Russians. Good-by.
"DORRY.
"So yon passed the examination all
right. Bet?" asked Nora two weeks later.
"Yes, and went straight to the court
and got sworn, and now the embassy
work will be mine, and I've another
idea, family. Listen," and she produced
a slip of paper from her pocket, and read
its contents aloud, in Geruiasi and Eug
lish.
"The English is mine, family. I see
German songs are published with English
words. I mean to offer mine, mother.
"It can do no harm."
"Harm, mother! It's a magnificent
speculation! Stamps in the bouse?"
The mother smiled.
"I don't think there are."
"Then I'll go straight and buy some.
and send off my letters at once."
The speculation answered; and, what
with teaching, translating for the embas
sy and for music firms, the second Miss
Denbigh was fairly set afloat, when, in
the temporary alisence of the editor of
Liebrecht's "Continental English Week
ly," she was appointed editress of that
magazine.
"Wasn't it only a few days ago we re
ceived Dorry's last remittance?" asked
Nora one day.
The words were said lightly. Dorry's
remittances were always welcome, but
had not been so needed of late that her
mother was not able to rejoice in this one
being her "last." "
"Here's Tom," she added, "coming up
stairs with a letter, and shouting 'from
Russia! from Russia! from Russia !' Per
hai it's to say she has set out. Fetch it.
Lizbeth."
CHAPTER XIX.
"Mother, dear mother, sieak! If only
a word; oh. mother, seak!"
"Hush, Lizbeth, you'll kill ber!"
But the girl, thoughtless of all eicept
her terror, still bent over the pale mother.
"Speak, darling, speak one word. We
are here. Nora and I. Mother, you have
two children still. Oh, mother, look up!"
But her words fell unheeded. The fatal
letter still tightly clasped in her hands,
the mother sat. her eyes gazing fur awoy.
Was she in thought once more by her
child her last born, as it had lain in its
cradle some seventeen summers before?
Little Dorry, who had never known an
earthly father's love, had seemed to be
long more to her mother than either of
the other girls. She Had U-en named
Theodora. "Gift of God." But God's
gifts are loans; and He had but lout the
child Dorry for a time to cheer her wid
owed mother. Short Indeed had Ix-en her
life; short as that of a flower, which,
springing up in the morning, gladdens the
heart during the burden and heat of the
day, but which ere close of evening folds
its bright petals. ''
And as her life had been, her death wan
one of self-sacrifice. Her pupil had
gone beyond her depth while bathing in
the river, and Dorry seeing her danger,
though she could not swim, had followed
her to try and save her. She reached the
child, and caught her in her arms, but
the waters would have their prey, and
clutched them loth. Some hours Inter
the two were found, locked in each other's
arms.
The letter which bore the tidings was
wr'ticn by rV father. It breathed in
every line the affection felt for the brave
girl; it dwelt upon her gentle, loving ways,
and that noble unselfishness and high
sense of honor, by which she had awak
ened feelings of respect seldom Inspired
by one so young. It concluded with the
words: "My wife and I have lost two chil
dren; for your Dorry was as dear to us
as our own child." And inclosed in it was
little Dorry's own last letter, full of fun
and merriment
"Dear wee Parent Did I not always
say we were a jolly family? Nora giv
ing concerts, Lizbeth editress, and I lack
ing up to go home: and so well and strong
prettier, too, they tell me, than I used
to lie. How do you like to hear that.
Nora? Two belle in the family, not
counting Bet, who would scorn the name
of belle, of course unless we called her
Belles-Lettres. (A little touching up might
make a really good pnn of this.)
"Dearies, how happy I am! too happy,
I sometimes thi:tk. I ought to be a little
sad, for they are so good to me here.
Mother, you're not jealous, are yon, that,
after you and the girls, I love this Rus
sian mother, this Russian father? They
have treated me like their own daughter.
But I am eldest here, and at borne I'm
youngest, I've been playing grown-up so
long that I want to be a child again, my
mother's youngest
"Dear ones, how I've looked forward
to this month, this week; and now I'm, oh.
so happy. If you knew how the sun Is
shining, and the river is shining. Here I
must stop writing, for I am off to bathe
in the Dnieper, where I shall think of
the Danube, and that in a week I shall
be sailing np It to my home.
"Darlings, be a jolly family!
"Your own happy, happy
"DORRY."
"Why don't you read it Nora?"
"I can't mother."
The mother took It. dried her tears and
read tt, the merry letter with the girlish
laughter running through it And the
child waa never more to see the Danube
Buried by the Dnieper, In the far-off
steppes, she was never more to see her
home. The little worker waa laid to rest
forever, when her task wns just done.
Had any one kissed the brave little wom
an before they laid her to rest?' Had
any one thought how she came to be so
far from home, the young, bright girl
that she hud worked when others play,
had nobly sacrificed the sweetest part of
life? Had any one stroked the soft, dark
curls, aud kissed th girl for her mother?
Surely; fur she hail met with love in
Russia.
A white marMe cross, surmounting a
block of rose granite, marks Dorry's rest
ing place a tribute erected to her memory
by the parents of her pupil.
It is very silent in t&e Russian church
yard, but sometime a peasant pause by
the grave of the young English girl, and
in his simple language mutters a prayer
for her, because of ber loving ways to
ward him and his when she used to roam
the village, and, in broken Russian, speak
to the villagers; and because he pities the
child laid to rest in his home, so far from
the borne of her people; though the "little
father" has said that the dead have all
one home, and are equally near to their
people, wherever their last earthly resting
place may be.
And the "little father" in Russia is the
village priest, and what he says is wise
and good.
CHAPTER XX.
"It is a miserable condition of human
nature, this need of distraction, and even
though Providence willed that so man
should be, that be might bear death; how
often amid these same distractions do we
not feel ourselves seized by remorse that
we are capable of them, whilst a touching
and resigned voice seems to say to us:
You whom I loved, have you then for
gotten me?"
Those are lieautiful words, by a woman.
None but a woman could, perhaps, write
so.
Who are the dead that are so cruel?
"Great and pure affections," says an
other French writer not a woman, "have
always that gixid, that, after the happi
ness of having experienced thetii, there
remains the happiness of remembering
them."
There is more of poetry in Madame dc
Stael's words, but more of truth in Ale
aurlre Dumas',
A year had passed since that terrible
day that brought the news of Iorry'
death. 1 1 -r sisters had not changed per
ceptibly. They were dressing, and had
laid aside their mourning for the first
time.
Whilst they dressed they talked a
girls talk.
"I wonder ls Dorry looking at a now.
Nora, ami reproaching us?" Elizabeth
said, and her lips quivered.
Some women can smile when the heart
is bleeding; such are born comforters.
Nora was one of these. Tears are for the
most part selfish; there is always some
one to be gay for. No stern voice whis
lerd here: "Yon whom I loved, have you
then forgotten dip!"
The girl in the steppes was not forgot
ten. The dead must not needs be forgot
ten because the living are remeiul?ri,d.
"Sometimes I think she laughs with us."
Nora had said.
Perhaps she did. It is snd to think of
our dear ones turning into grim, reproach
ful specters sweeter to think of them a
we knew them in life, a little idcnlized.
perhaps; better still, not idealized at all.
To Nora, Dorry remained the droll,
droll child, with ber aversion to things
looking "poor," with her pet speech that
might have been more elegantly worded,
had Dorry been in the least an "elegant"
young lady, which Dorry was not:
Cheer up, dearies, and be a jolly family.
OH A ITER XXI.
"I have no objection to our leaving
Dublin for the Continent. Mrs. O'Brien.
All I say is, pay for trunks I will not
not one farthing."
Mr. O'Brien was evidently in earnest.
Mrs. O'Brien's trunks on her last trip to
the Continent had cost well, more than
Mr. O'Brien was prepared to pay.
"I never meant to take trunk with
us, saw tmii laoy now; "ine exieuse
they were to us last year whs terrible."
"Yes, me dear" (softening a little).
"More than terrible, it was scandal
ous : ,
"It really wax, Marin" (Keating himself).
"1 mean to say. St w.is in fatuous per
fectly infamous!"
'When were you thinking we should
go. me ite.tr: By this t:tne .Mr. O l'.rieu s
mood hail ijecotne unite placid. He was
a passionate man, but Mrs. O 15r;en knew
how to avoid a storm. After an act of ex
travagance her custom wns to outdo hint
in the matter of inveighing. It is not a
bad system.
'As soon as ever you are ready, Mr.
O'Brien. As we ate to take no trunk"
with us, there will lie no packing."
Four days afterward an Irinb family,
consisting of Mr. O linen, their throe
'laughters and their son, stood on the
Flushing platform, each nietnlier of the
party, excepting Mr. O'Brien, senior, be
ing equipped with two large carpet bugs,
or, as an Irish porter had called them,
'carpet trunks.
"Morgoret, me dear." said Mrs. O'Brien,
addn-ssing her eldest daughter, a tall,
angular girl, who was literally bowed l-
neath the weight suspended from her
arms: loo corry them as if they were
heavy. Shorlot. you are not giggling. I
ho'."
Shorlot, otherwise Charlotte, was the
second Miss O'Brien. Something in her
mother's remark to her sister had evident
ly tickled ber sense of the couiicaL She
was giggling.
'Where's Gurldine?" continued Mrs.
O'Brien. "Gurldine! Gurldine!"
Alas, Geraldine had found her burden
more than she could bear, and, dropping
a bag on each side of her, had herself
dropped between them, and there re
mained a pitiful representation of sorrow.
aged eight.
"Horry, go and rouse her up!"
In another minute the young man was
beside ber.
'But, Horry, you can't carry four!"
said Geraldine.
"Yes, I can. Gerry; come along."
Meanwhile a porter bad walked up to
the ladies, and asked in German:
What class?"
'Swy, su Ecks," said Mrs. O'Brien,
holding up two fingers to emphasize ber
words, and majestically surveying the
train.
'Swoity clossy," added Mr. O'Brien,
who piqued himself on knowing some
German.
'Here we are, mother," cried the girls,
who had meanwhile found out the car
riage; whereupon the whole party got in,
excepting Harry, who remained outside
to hand in the bags.
'One, two, three, four," said Mrs.
O'Brien, as she took them from him, and
hoisted them up on the shelf provided for
this purpose.
"Well!"
"Hm!"
The exclamation came from a lady and
gentleman seated opposite. Whether II
was the size of the bags, or the muscular
strength of the lady who lifted them, that
elicited the interjections, the writer knows
not.
"Five, six, seven eight, nine, ten," con
tinued Mrs. O'Brien calmly, as she took
up four more. "That's all," she added
when she had distributed them among her
family. "How glad I am we're comforta
bly settled, dears."
They looked a comfortable party. Mr.
O'Brien, a chronic sufferer from gout, was
practicing what Diderot calls the "gri
mace paihetique" under a bag laid across
his knees. Charlotte, never remarkable
for steadiness, aud now really enervated,
was indulging in the delight of sweet six
teen and giggling, for which her elder
sister, Margaret, was frowning severely
at her, whilst little Geraldine was sob
bing ber heart out liehiud and under an
enormous bag which was crushing her
small, fat person.
Nobody spoke.
It was the first and last time Mr.
O'Brien insisted on his wife traveling
without luggage. She had carried the
day.
This is what the second Miss O'Brien,
with the astuteness of sixteen, fully rec
ognized, and most anxious was she to im
part the fact to her younger sister.
"I say, Gerry "
"I-a" me 'lone, Shorlot!" come the in
dignant answer. Gerry was not in a
mood for conversation.
CHAPTER XXII.
"Ecks!"
The O'Brien family were at their desti
nation. "Ah, Miss Denbigh, bow charming of
you now to come and meet us:
The speaker was Mr. O'Brien, as he
grssjied Nora's baud, then turned to her
sister:
"And how are you. Miss Elizalieth?"
"(Juite well, thank you, Mr. O "
"Dorlings, how o r you?" sounded the
voice of Mrs. O'Brien at this moment, as
she rushed up and embraced both gir'.s
rapturously, adding, "Shorlot and Morg"
ret. come here, and kiss the Miss Den
bighs. Y'ou can't have forgotten the
little girls you used to quorl with."
Thus pleasantly reminded of the by
gone times they had spent together, the
Denbigh and O'Brien girls kissed each
other affectionately. Margaret then In
troduced "me brother," with whom Nora
shook bands cordially, Elizabeth favoring
htm with a distant Imiw,
"Ami where is your luggage, Mrs.
O'Brien V
"There, at some distance, dorling Gurl
dine" s minding it. We brought no trunks
with us. Mr. O' Brine declared he would
not move a siep out of Oirland if we did.
So 1 packed all we needed into ten corpet
bags. Me dear. Ihey almost kilhsl us.
uridine was smothered twice. But
whnt were these disagreeable compared
to the knowledge that Mr. O'Brine's gouty
leg was under one of them till (he way?"
Were it Missibie to give the reader an
idea of the maimer hi which Mrs. O'Brien
delivered herself of this secch, he would
probably admit he lind never seen a better
bit of comedy; but therein lies the "dis
agreeable" of writing, that what is best in
life loses in Iieing penned.
"Sit down, dear, and I'll call Tom. Y'ou
must make each other's acquaintance."
The enker wns Nora, s she led Miss
Geraldine O'Brien into the drawing room,
then went in pursuit of Tom.
"Tom! Tom!" sounded her voice in the
garden.
Meanwhile Tom was not there, but in
the next room to Miss O'Brien. In an
other moment, passing the drawing room.
he saw that young lady. Wilh much grav
ity he approached the sofa.
"Who are yon. little girl?"
No young mini of eight could hare put
the question more politely; r.o young lady
of eight could have Imunded more indig
nantly from her scat.
"Little! I'm not littler than you!
Measure !"
To place back tu back was the work of
a moment, and proved that Miss O'Brien's
calculation was correct.
"What is your name?" asked Tom.
"Me uarne is Gurldine."
"Geraldine what?"
"Me entoyef name is Gurldine Dnrfy
O'Jirine."
Miss O'Brien curtailed the Inst name
into a dissyllable, nnd gave the French
prefix "D'i'rfe." au eiiuiilly Hibernian
pronunciation.
"What's Dnrfy?" asked Tom, dryly.
"Diirfy? Don't ye know Frinch V" aU
ed the owner of the unique nose.
"No. Do you?"
"1? I never lciir:it. But ye 'rmigined
yerseif so big, I thought maybe ye knew
more than me."
Was it pissilile Miss "O'Brine's" nose
wns rising?
"Is Durfy French?" calmly continued
Tom, his inquisitiveness by no means
lessened by this satirical outburst
"It is."
"And why is your name French, Ger
aldine?" "Me name Is Gnridine, and me name's
O'Hrine: that's Oirish, isn't It?"
"But Durfy V
"That's Frinch 'cause we're of Frinch
disthraction. An' now I hope ye're sat
isfied." Tom Denbigh wasn't; but there was
something in his companion's tone that
made him deem it wise to drop further
inquiry.
"Ar-rent ye satisfied?" asked the little
girl.
This was encouragement
"How do you sdl Durfy, Geraldine?"
"May lie ye'll understand if ye' see it
written," and Miss O'Brien dived into her
pocket, and produced a small, soiled
note-book, on a leaf of which she wrote,
in a clear, boyish hand, "Geraldine d'L'rfe
O'Brien."
"Do ye understand now? Did ye Iver
see a name like that?"
"Yes; at home, in Ireland, I knew a
little lioy named O'Brien; but he bad no
French destruction about him, If that's
what Dnrfy means."
"Frinch disthraction. I said. A com
mon child, eh?"
"He wasn't a grand child. I knew lots
of O'Briens in Ireland. O'Brien'i a very
common Irish name, my aunt says."
"If it's low she means, O'Brine's not
low; and If ye mean to say we're low "
Tom wince.
"Indeed I don't, Geraldine. Are yon
going to play with me?"
"I am. I like ye, Tom."
With this astounding announcement the
young lady jumped up and kissed Mr.
Denbigh, who, "en homme gallant," re
turned the embrace nothing loath, Tim
was an acquaintance struck np between
Mr. Tom Denbigh and Mist Oornldlnel
O'Brien. .
' , (To be continued.)
How He Found Them. Jimmy, the
Con "How are yon finding thing
theae hard time?" Mike, the Porch-t-llubcr-"Ka7.
Been vwio' de X nr."
i
Know f-hoea.
They are Worn to prevent the trav
eler from sinking into the soft atirfuce
of the biiow. If teamsters coul I pre
vent the sinking of their wagons by
wide tire, and thus haul double the
load in nil ciisjh, they would nt once
adopt the broad tread. The trouble Ik.
however, thnt must roads will hold up
the narrow tire for a time, and nit tin
road doesn't belong to the driver, tlx
evil la perpetuated until the wheelmen
come along and institute legislation.
The Way to Vote.
The Good Bond Club, of Atlanta
Ga.. bus Instructed its secretary to
write to all candidate for the Mitioii
of county eoiiitulioners, asking that
they forward the club a written state
nieut of their views In regard to road
And why not? What are coinnil
sionertt for? The position Is not n par
tlctibirly ornate one and hence it should
lie of Home practical tine to the public.
A good system of highways through
out a county would In- of more retil
benefit than Hliytblng cine eouiiniloii-
er could propose.
Voter Imve n right to know n mini's
Ideas concei nlng thl linlHirtnnt ques
tion before putting him into nil otllce
he Is not calculated to properly fill.
Don't buy n pig In n isike. Don't
vote for anyone w ho Isn't willing to do
nil he can, within reason, to lift bis
community out of the mud.
Ballot, make good bulla! when prop
erly Utilized.
Just Think!
'AS
t v.- -i je. . , ... ,
rv v .'..nr.. j
Oh, think of the farmers who come uud
go
Through a sorry mnd like t!ii!
Aud think of the grief tiny needs must
know.
And the good ronds' joys they miss!
And think of the poor dumb brutes that
red
Through the mud till they faint und
f.ill!
And think of the cyclers who ciinnot
ivlu-c'.
On a road like this, at all.
Secretary of State's Salary.
In June, ITH'J, Mr. Livingston, (our
first Secretary of State, known then as
Secretary of Foreign Affairs,) resigned
to accept the ofllce of Chancellor of the
State of New Y'oik. We do not wonder
that with a Hillary of only fI,(Hi tie
(diotild have said be was compelled to
draw upon bin private fortune to mip
porf the office. That lian been tlx fate
of nil, or practically all, of Ills Hiiece-i-
or; for. wtnio me : mry or tin- o::po
has been for many years Just twice that
lecelvcd by Mr. Livingston, fK.iKKi, the
expenditure, necessary to maintain tint
ttoctal position which ctistoin hn fit
Hlgned to the oflice are greatly more
than the salary. A Secretary of State,
who maintain an establishment and
entertain Hie foreign Mlnlsterx and tin;
P'tiernl public with the genefoii lionpl
tallty now expected of bini, will owe
much gratitude to hi major-domo, If r.t
the end of a four year' term he ha nor
contributed from bis private fort tine to
the support of hi of lire n tuitu grca'or
;bail the Hnlary lie ban received, Thi
i mi evil, for It may happen that t!u
man lienl fitted for the ofllce may refuse
It or leave It a Livingston did -mtlie,
tlinn sacrifice a Hintill private fortune
to social demand. Dinners wen1, In
Livingston' time, a now, diplomatic
ngencir. a well a Imperative nodal
event. Iridic' Home Journal.
A Hat'1 l-'on lues for Nparrow.
A rat thnt catdic and eats bird I
the latent novelty on the West Slilo.
ruder a Hblewalk at 12th and Iioml
sired live a rut. From the size of the
rodent and hi gray hair whisker it I
evidently an old resident In the cnlgli
liorhood. I'nlike noine other rnt, It
doc not di'HMid on cbwse ami bread
for In living, but prefer a nice, Juicy
Hpnrruw.
On the corner aftimlH a building occn
pled a fl aalooii, and In front of tho
saloon I a watering trough, where
lcamtcr allow their horse, to slake
their thirst. The teamster nlo find
the place fl very convenient oue to feed
their home while they sample the pp
prletor'a free lunch and lager beer. A
a result the pavement I thickly strewn
with out ptihcd out of the feedlnjj
Nick by the hungry horses.
An army of apnrrow ha Iwcu at
tracted o the place, and ench moniln
the pavement Is covered with tho little
fellow eating their breakfast.
The rat, having cultivated a tste for
narrow, now hn one for breakfast
rvery day, llangera-on around tho
place hare come to watch the maneu
ver of the rat every morning. Boon
after dayl'ilit the sparrow make the!
apticaniiiiv. and the rat slyly craw
I'll
out of it hole. After looking around !o
M-r that te roast i clear, the rat se
lect a plump sparrow, and while the
little bird I busy filling It crop the ru
makes a spring and secures It prey.
The Mrd in drugged under the sid.--walk,
and nothing more I seen of the
rat until the following morn: -. when
be come out for a fresh victim. So ex
pert ha the rat liecome that th who
have seen it say it can catch and kill a
bird as cleverly as a cat Clihagj
Chronicle.
Went Out for a Kst.
"Did you mail that letter to mother?"
axked Mr. Junius, a she poured the
tea.
Mr. Junius laid down hi knife and
fork ami slowly drew an euvdope from
1.1 Inner pocket.
"Well, there," fried Sir. Junius, stay
ing the teaxt In the air, "If that Isn't
Jut like yon, Juliu Junius, carrying
(.round my letter for a week, ami moth
er worry ing and worrying herself, per
haps lck, and having to tnke thoroiigh
wort tea every morning and night, but
I gues you wouldn't laugh if ybtl had
to be dosed with urh bitter stuff, an I
me having to etccp It out oil top of the
stove nnd the dipper leaking, and you
know I've asked you Just a kind.y n
1 could to have it mended, but you don
lav attention to a Mingle word 1 ay, no
more than If I ua deaf and dumb, am
id J
mother wondering If I'm sick or maybe
the baby, the little darling that sin!
think o much of, and I know she'l!
get I'ncle Horace to leave him every
cent of hi money, but you wouldn't
care If be wa dying, I mean the laiby
of course and not I'ncle Horace that
you never met though he's one of the
k!tiib't men In the world and alwayn
s.'. Id he liked nothing better than to Alt
dim ti and have a good quiet chat wl'h
'nr. but for mercy sake, Julius Junius,
don't lt there grinning and making n
bad matter wore and not saying a
won!, but give me that letter and t"IJ
me if you can diy joii forgot to mall
II."
A III wife flogged herself for the
way freight, Jultut Junius passed over
'he envelope.
"I didn't forget It mailed it on tho
same day," he ald. "This one's front
your mother In answer to It, I reckon."
Saying which, be put on his hat and
went out for the kindling. Nor did he
come hack for an hour. But Mr. .Ju
nius wan still at it. St. Louis Post-pi-I
witch.
Kattli'snnkc H' in Necktie.
A necktie made of the sl.ln of a rat
tlesnake and with eight rattle left on
w.i discovered in a pa;nr box a it
wa passing through the mailing de
partment of the general posiotllrv yn-
terday morning. It wa jiblresscd to
A. Voniicgiit. Munsier. Gr-nnany, and
one of the clerk peeped Into the box
to sec If the content were of a c-bM
that could legally be scut throUi;'i the
mall H'ro the sea. The supposed
sender I F. J. Vontiegut, of Vli Smith
street, but the city directory lioc not
contain any such name. The poxtoltlce
olllclaU ruled that it contained good
of a salable value, and could iot be
rnt through the mails unless properly
sealed and postage at the rate f t'ti'.s
a ll.llf-olllice paid. I'tllii the .sender
read about the detention of hi novel
present, uud call nt the postotllco and
pay more money, hi German brother
In the Fatherland will probably not
have tlu pleasure of wearing tbl strict
ly ntilque specimen of American In
genuity lu haberdaKhery. New York
Tribune.
Keniedy for the Theater Hat.
"There I a legal remedy for the nui
sance of big bat In theaters," said a
Broad street lawyer a he came from a
rowileil theater last night. "It I on
existing remedy and require no ttpeeiitl
fixation like that recently bad In
Ohio.
'The legal fact !, If a man buy a
certain sent in a theater there I an
Implied contract with the mniuiger thai
be Khali have an utiolwtrucled view of
thcMtage. If hedocHii't get it on account
of a lint or any other object Im-Iiij be
tween him. ami the Mage the matutcr
1 responsible in damage. If ibi rem
edy wa enforced in a few Instance,
llt,.nt,.u ...... .1.1 I ...
wi.-,.i,.n ,1.111.(1 no,oi nave u rule rc-
lulrliig the removal of objectionable
bat." New York Herald
Cycling Otiap-ron.
I have been delrcd to insert I he fol
lowing notice:
"Wanted, by a dowager, too aged to
ride a cycle (Ml, nil experienced lady
cyclist aecimtoiiMMl to the very best
society. Muxt be able to ride twenlv
mlb-H an hour, ho n to keep in night
youngest daughter, who 1 agile and In
Judicious. Apply to A. B. C, (!2 Bcl-
grnve Kquare."
A lady, highly connected, b nri-oared
to rluiperoti Ion a cycle) the ambition
daughter of a millionaire. an ex
pert In nil pace (cycllngl. Can lie
trusted to keep alongside of the swiftest
detrimental und to lug dlwreetly in the
rear of an eligible elder son."-Iiiidon
Truth.
Lightning and Tree.
Cedar and fig tree are rorelv struck
by lightning. The bew h, the larch, the
fir mid the chestnut also seem to be
peculiarly obiiorioti to tho "lioltsi r
Jove." There are tree, however .whl-li
nppear to attract rnt her than to repel
the lightning flash. I be tree gem-mliy
rnumerafeil lu the category of tho
which the lightning I tnont ant to stnk
are the oak, the yew, the elm ami tits
Ionibarily Hiplnr.
Only a Olrl.
First Wheelman- It wn luck for i hm
man that he had a match when hi
lantern went out.
Keeond Ditto Why, my dear fellow.
that wasn't n man. If it had t-n h
wouldn't have arrntrhed the match on
the pavement like tliat.-Nuw Yor
Commercial Advertiser.