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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 20, 1895)
CIRl'S BRIVERY. ■Y RUTH HR SKRI.K KUYSKTH. "For whom did you want the bouse young lady?" "For myself, sir." Dr. Ism Isiigliton stood amased. The girl bsfoishim was so young— not more than eighteen, and so pretty —goldendiaired and bine eyed as an angel. He had never dreamed that •he was making the application to rent Thistle Collage herself. But Miss Caroline Clarke took no notice of hie surprise. ,-The house is In good order, sir." "It requirss a few repairs, only,” said ths young physician, rather stiff ly. He iiad begun to tiling be was throw ing his time away. "And those you will make?" "If I let the collage— yes." The young lady mused a moment. "I think I will like ft,” she said then. "I beg your pardon. Miss Clarks—?" "Yes." "Do you quite understand ths sit eatioo?” "I think I do. Tlis house M thought to be haunted, and the rent ie merely nominal to anyone who will lire there." "Yee. But— How are you eituated In regard to family, my dear young lady?” "I have the care of two younger brothers—twelve and fourieeu years old. I have only a limited income, which I eke out by embroidery. 1 am , . *...*• ...._a _a al . •nxioiliv III/ Ml VUIWIW VMV Vi KIIW city and there is a good academy here. 1 am not afraid of ghosts,’’ j with a faint smile, "We shall corns.” Her words and manner were not at Variance with tier delicate beauty— ; all wae so petite and yet so self-pos sessed and diuni lied. J>r, Leighton'S •spcrience In girls did not st em to J serve him at all in this emergency. He i recollected that his ststeis, Maud and | Bess, always regarde/l the outer walls Of niUtle Cottage with an apprehen- ; sivega/e, and could not he persuaded to paw it alone after dark, and In-re was this girl, no older than they, pro loosing lo live there, with two children! "You have no parent#?” "No,” “lielative#?” "None to rely upon, I depend on myself entirely. J)r freight on; I am used lo it. Would you Ilk# to let me have Thistle Cottage?” with a steady glance Into the young man’# counts pang#. "J hesitate only on your account,” bs hastened to say. “It Is no fable that a man was killed there. He was murdered by a son of unsound mind, after a quarrel about money. The ■state wae owned by my fattier, it u now mine. It long ago fell into ill repute on account of the murder, but It is a very pretty place and bee been kept in repair. 1 will walk over it with you again and make any changes you may find desirable,” thus tacitly consent mg to the young lady’s pro posal. What tier words failed to do, her clear blue eyes had succeeded in ac complishing. They had won the con fidence of the owner of the cottage. “She can hut try since she wishes,” j be sah] to himself. “I am close by at our house. If she gets frightened out she can come to ue.” When they had gone over the house again, the girl asked, quite coolly: "What became of the murderer?” "He fled Irom justice—is probably dead. He has never been heard from, and bis ghost ie said to haunt this •pot. If you can prove that it does not. 1 will give you live years rent here tree. 'Die young girl made no reply, only •rolled brightly. "What a hrave little creature!" thought Dr. Leighton. A week later Caroline Clarke and ber brother* were nettled at the This tle Cottaue. Dr. Iwighton did not fancy the boy*. He told hi* mother that they were "whelp* that wanted licking in- ‘ to shape." Hut when he *aw the gen tleneew and tact u*ed by their ei*ter in managing them, when he *aw her patience, her charmin; nmile in en couragement of their simplest well doing, he wa* ashamed of hi* intoler ance. • My father," she hesitated, "did i not set his hoy* a very good example. They were much away Irom home be fore he died They will do much bet-I ter here away from harmiul aesocia tions," she said. "That * a good girl—a rare good girl. I we," eaid old Mrs. Iwighton. "1 only wish Maud and Hens had half as much character." Hut Cara, as the boys called her, did not trouble her neighbors. Kite was an exuuisite honsi-keeper, she had a piano- an old on# hut of mellow tons; she did much work with crewels and liossss. In the evening she as aisled her brother* with tlieir studies. They were fond ot her under their , roughness and sslrksiiness. They ■hoveled snow, when it cams, took car* of the poultry—shs encouraged them in their ambition forpriischick sn* and kept in wood and watsr There wa* not a brighter lull* horn* in tbs village Cara bad tluishml the ronm* herself with inetty erItalic touches. | On the |i*!e out! paler ol the sitting room she ha* painted, here and tbsre, a bunch of red Itergondy toe**. Hire . had gilded the mruices ami bung Ire | tors a doorway a crimson curtain I A* fur guests When |*u|il« i liter led her. sirs simply answered "No, I have uni •**« any." Hut ismhan* dr* air of the mount- I •In village did nut agree with Cara (lark*, fur she grew pata *h# was always swvsl, hut sometmt** sir# tia-l • tails wearied air. Dr, Iwighton naked her if she dtd nut work too hard. "I* not liiat," *ha answer**! lie w»»rydar*d« iMuetlmes, with a secret | disquiet, if she had not somewhere a sweetheart who did not write to her. But Cara kept her own counsel. The fall and winter wore away with out any revelation to him of what troubled her. Jack and Willie, the boys, were jubilant over the pros pect of a vegetable garden with peas, potatoes and squashes of their own taising. But their sieter looked eo ill that the younz phyeician felt called upon to expostulate “Cara," he said, "I want to epeak to you. You muet have a change or y(M die." . , , •0, no. I shall not she replied, in crddaiounly. •Tfc»ur countenance tivee token of unmistakable exhaustion. You are doing too much labor or you have some trouble. Cara, why do you not confide in me? Do you not believe I am your friend?" "Ob, yes. It is nothing, only 1 do not sleep very well.” “Why?" She made no reply, and seeing that Ills inslstunce distressed her. he ceas ed to urge her confidence at that time, though more certain than ever that she had a painful secret. He was sat isfied that she had no organic disease; and her mind seemed to have no mor bid tendency- But the colorless cheek, the hollow temples, the air of languor, betrayed that something daily and hourly espped the young girl’* strength. One morning, Willie, the younger boy, rapped at his office door. “Homething's the matter with my sister." tie said. "We can’t wake her up. Won’t you come over?" Dr. I.eighton found Cara in a stupor end delirious, with every symptom of brain fever. He loet no time in get ting assistance. Mrs. Hodgdon, the village nurse, was at Cara's bedside when she awoke. II. I All lta/1 illut laff t Via WAAffn and wan in the next apartment. He ilid not go in immediately, though he heard the girl talking. “Ain I mo very Mick?" ehe anked. “No, d<ar. You woe feverish and your mind wandered a little, and I wo* out of a place and told Dr. laugh ton 1 could Mtay with you a day or two u>* well aa not for my hoard. I iiain’t forgotten the jacket* a» Willi# outgrew tiiat you aent to my Bobbie; and 1 had feeling for a young girl with no mother'* hand in the hour o’ need." "Oh," moaned theyoung girl. "I'm not aick, I'm worn out! Oh, thia Ireadful home! I have not slept •oumlly all winter." “Why, dearie?” “Oh, Mr*. Ifudgdon. there ia aome liody in tin* house beaide ouraelvea. Beeide me arid the boya, I mean. Homebody creep* about and 1 am al way* hatefling tor tiiat atep. It ia killing me1 Oh, don't tell anyone! I lid not mean to tell you, but I am «o weak. Don’t, don't nay a word to Dr. Iieighton. J muat bear it, becaun* it* all the borne we have, and tiie boy* never had aucli a pretty, nice home before, and they are doing ao well, and are no good. 1 waa not afraid at lirat. I am not afraid now, only for them. There may be aome evil about, though nothing ban ever harmed u*. But a* aoon a* J fall asleep I atart up and listen.” Cara wan begging the old woman not to betray her confidence, when Dr, Iieighton came into tiie rooni. “You muat tell me the whole atory, Cara!" lie aaid. "You ntia.il not lone anything by it," he added. But Cara broke out, crying, in her w -akueMH giving way to tier emotion*, and for a time the tumult would have it* way. Bhe waa brought to liaten to reanon at laat. “It waa two month* after we came here," *iie naid, “that I first heard those creeping, creeping step*. I tried to think it wan tin* tree*, or the wind, or the cat, hut I heard them wtien there waa no wind at all, and the cat was dhioep on mu loot oi iny nun, aim the things were moved from their places about t he house, and lately f nave miMeed food. That'* Mince I would not allow myself to believe that a spirit haunted the place. I have searched every spot and nook in this house. There i* only the space above the scuttle in the root, and tnere are no stairs.” "Oh, I)r. Leighton!” groaned Mrs. liodgdon, “then, of course, it’s spirits." "Nonsense.” Dr. lmighton contented himself with preHcribing for the sick and over wearied girl, and after a tew days of care arranged a drive for her in his new buggy, with tier brother Jack as attendant. “You are to lake a nice long drive, and not be back under two hours,” he said, smiling. The kindness and care surrounding Cara was new and very pleasant to her. As the wheels rolled away from the door In the brightness of tiie spring day. her trouble fell away from her like a nightmare, and the color cams back to the nrettv cheeg. Five minutes after her depailure from Thistle Cottage two men were in the house with Dr. Is-ighton. They went rapidly through it, la-ginning with the cellar. Every wall was tried, with the idea of discovering any unknown space or passage. Nothing unknown was developed. At length a short laddsr was brought, and tlis men a« I glided I O I lie attu It was only a hollow spars beneath ills csnter of the root, ipute unlighted. Hut enough light penetrated the place to show an unkempt figure rising Irom Us liar ot straw ami rags In ons cor ner "What's this’ Ars you altsr itisT" hs said, la hollow tones The men sil-ntly gate,lull this object with astonishment, repulsion and pity, It was a man, but so thick tin mask of dirt and grim, so ragged tin I ward and hair, groiestpie tin* cost unit of tattsra from which fell feathers and straw, It scanned some unknown c i« a lure instead of a Ini ni.c.i I- ng 'loeai lisaisns' it is aimon island!" r»ie»t Dr Is'igliUlu, rtiis ouly added to the innslerna lion of the o>tier men for Minton tadancl was the half era «d lacy ado murdered tils la)list at Tlostis Collage tics yvars i-dt-ie Hut waul am! noaery had given him the appearamw of an old man. “I don’t care what you do with roe!” cried the hollow voice. “Only give me something to eat.” “Come with us and you shall have all you want," said Dr. [jeighton, not unkindly. ••Where? Down there, where the fire and the light and the girl is?” nak ed the wretched being, and when they nodded, he caught up a rough ladder of rope, quickly adjusted it and swung himself down before them. But he was so weak he staggered, and they were obliged to help him down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hodg don, shaking with excitement and consternation, placed food upon the table from which he snatched it, with out any pretence of eating from a plate,devouring it like a half-famished animal. When he had filled himself, he would have laid down on the floor and gone to sleep, but that the unaccustomed plenty sickened him. and he began to groan and roll about. In a sfiort time, the sheriff, who had been sent for, arrived, and he was taken away. No one believed that the poor, underwitted, half-dying creature was a fit subject for punish ment, but the county jail was a clean and comfortable refuge for him in his destitution. Here he remained until consigned to the almshouse. No re liable account af bis career could be obtained from him, but It is probable that he had sought refuge at Thistle Cottage in its desertion, and existed miserably there a great while before discovered. He had prowled about at night searching for food, of which hs founds scanty supply,stealing from corn bins, pigs and poultry, and rob bing hen rooits, eating the flesh of the fowls raw. It was the occasional dis covery of his miserable figure whioh had called into existence the story of the place being haunted by Ids ghost. But so reduce*! bad tie become he would probably have died in his lair but for Dr. Ijeighton’e discovery of Dim, Dr. I-elghton kindly saved Car*from witnessing so much misery. 8h# nev er saw Himon I-eland. Her nerve* had already borne much, and that the had been willing still to *u(Ter in secret for the sake of preserving a good home for tier youngorothers was a fact which became known and en deared tier to many hearts. Her friends multiplied, and, when she ac cepted as a lile companion, Dr. l-eigh ton, the oldest friend of all, hearty kindness surrounded her and warm wishers for her happiness danced merrily at the wedding. it >m -♦ mm PAYINC ATTENTIONS.” The Evils of Premature Coeelp About Love Affaire. Harper’s IJaznr. As it is obviously a young man’sdu ty to pay attentions to some young woman, considering that this is really the chiel motive of social intercourse, it is rather hard upon him that he no sooner begins to fulfill his mission, and calls, and drives, and dances more or less boldly with one damsel, than all the match-making women to whojn a love affair, anybody's love affair, is precious and entertaining, interchange ideas upon the subject and report that young Crayon is in love with Mies Coupon; and although he may never have thought of love in relation to Miss Coupon, and although he may possibly iiave drifted into a genuine affection sooner or later if nobody had meddled—since proximity is adanger ous factor, and brings about more marriages than match-making—the premature report has a very damag ing effect; he begins to see that unless lie Is serious in paying attentions he is compromising not only niniself, but the young woman, and keeping other suitors at a distance; and although lie may not know whether he has any positive designs or no, and his emo tions may be in a state of evolution, | it 11*1 lit) limy iiui< rutiiciy mihj'-i manu hm own designs, yet tie is put upon tiis guard, tlm cordial relation between the two cools, and he earns the name cf being a heartless tnller, or is forced into a hasty declaration before he is ready to make it. Naturally the look er-on savs that he ought to know his own mind; that he has no business to devote himself to a woman whom he does not love, lint love is not an in stantaneous alfair, like being struck by lightning; it is a growth. And how prithee, is a young man to know whether he loves or not if he may not live more or less m the companion ship of that, "not impossible she?" if he may not have opportunity to observe and study her? To be sure Miss Coupon may object to being made a slim y of,to being placed under the microscope, and then by-and by turned aside as an in|>erfect specimen. Hut she has the same privilege herself, and would be sailly shocked if any one supposed that she would accept a lover without some knowl edge of his qualifications. One might nnk if she, on her stile, had serious and matured design-, wheiiehe answer 4«l Ills notes, accepted his invitations, ins bouquets and confectionery, if ehe were not also attsmpling to discover il he were her ideal. We do not dis pute the iact that there are man who nirt maliciously, so t„ speak—who do out mean to fall in love -who have themselves well in hand; hut they j need not be confounded with thoes ! who are simply trying to discover their In-route. M«Mf« u W, II*U*fvom l.tMitft j Mihvm Wall *a t U««. L II fttttatar, §1 I Ilia lluiMM !!!• mm lb* mI* hHuUv ImH!« lit up ) 4«* bill* I** |»#tit u|« Kiv ft «Mut' ' HiUst im «*t MM IfftHl# (%M«| tilf |i»ak blU '*M U btl l bn* fir, I v»f ' mIM'M % A b # iftMiltiil ftl y •»! M »«i>ii I U. Mum I . NkftH TAvm* ** VI# ! I t it t . i*»‘ H|>Ui IS TMf4 Mt MMlfv, |Vft»f U.UKIm. p.H bil* iUK .M 'tb n. IfUHl lb* NHM ‘4 III* I j MtftldNk »*• »>•* I Mil M**' -4mm SUNSET COX ON FISH. An Acre of Water Equal to an Aore of Lano-One of the Marvels of the Tlme-The Puritan Platform. [From the speech of Mr 8. 8. Cox, of New York, on the bill to establish the office ol Commissioner of Kish and Fisheries, end pay him » enlnry of $f»,<)00.] This business of propagating our food fishes is well appreciated by the l>eople all over our country. 8ince Professor Baird began this work there lias been sent out by tank, cans, and otherwise throughout the land, from Texas to Maine and from the Colum bia River to the 8t, John's, 100,000, 000 of young fish or spawn for the promulgation of this food. The report of Professor Goode (House Miscellaneous Document No. 80) to the present Congress shows the cost during the last fiscal year of the production, transportation, and dis tribution of tiiese 100,000,000 from their sixteen hatching and rearing stations. Tiie propagation expenses were $180,000; tiie cost of fishponds and distribution was $15,000, .»nd the same sum for vessels engaged in the service. There are existing other appliances for the founding of tills ex tensive and humane object, which I will not now dwell upon. The time lias almost, mine, prophe sied by Professor Huxley, when an acre of water will produce almost as much food lor the support of human life as an acre of land. The science of fish propagation is one of the marvels of our times. It is one of tiie miracles of physical cul ture. We have understood, appreciat ed, and encouraged by law tills won derful multiplication of food fishes. If I am permitted to refer modestly to my travels, I will say that when I was coasting around Norway a scien list miormeii me—pointing out over the Arctic ocean, which we were in specting—that there had been theyear before a shoal of codfish near the JjOfToden island* a mile in superficial extent, containing I 50,000,000 coil, anil that these codfish had fed on 420,000,000 herring. There is no limit tothe wonderful infinitude of these fin ny creatures of the deep. Professor Haird saw with generous vision this result of natural law. Al though i believe the invention or dis covery of this remark i ble fecundity and mode of proportion in fish was made at an earlier date tiian 1871, still he utilized it. To be fust in this connection, I may remark that before professor Haird undertook this service Ur. Gariick, an Ohio man, die covered the process. His ie not a happy name, but bis discovery was felicity itself to millions. Is it not a curious fact that Ohio always seems to be a little ahead of other Htates in certain affairs—political or otherwise? [Imghler.l Excuse my seeming for wardness in speaking of Ohio pro ducts, for I was born there myself. [ Laughter. J Nevertheless, Mr. Hpeaker, there never was an interest in this country so cared for by the government as this of fish. Our lirst efforts, at least In New England, began with fish. When our ancestors—1 refer to New England, where I was educated— when our ancestors went to King James for a charier to go across the seas and colonize Massachusetts, the King asked the Puritans:-— "What is your object* What do you intend?" Their answer was: “To worship God and catch fish!" (Laughter.] Then the King rejoined: "I give you the charter. Fore Gad! it is tiie apos tle's own calling!” [Renewed laugh ter. I Wny, sir, even in the early churches of New England the early and pious Puritans used to sing:— Ye monster* of the bubbling deep, Your Maker's name upraise; Up from the eamis yo codlingspeep, And wag your tail* always. (Laughter and applause.] So that in early New England the i.ure and care of lish was concomitant with commerce, liberty, and sanctity. In later times New England lias ob tained Congressional enactments giv ing free salt for her fish, while the mis erable man in Chicago can not get free salt for ins pork. [Laughter.] Con gress has always had a kindly word at... l.V. Itiunir fluourtou it gave bounties at »o much pur coil. These fishermen have not become less tenacious of their rights since the bounty ceased. They are a power in numbers and influence. They number a million or more of men constantly engaged in their hardy and hazardous occupation. Their calling is associat ed at the present time with some curi ous wriggling in diplomacy. [Laugh ter. | Hut wherever they are and wherever they should adventure, they t should he cared for by til fostering arm oi the government. 'Die main object of this hill is not to assist the fishermen so much as tits consumers of fish. It would send out the seed broadcast, that tood liar vests may grow in all the waters ol this laud. I trust there will tie nothing done here to impair the usefulness of this bureau. I trust,as this bill takes no money out of the treasury, that no further objection will be made to its passage; that the president may tie abls to selet t a good prac tn-al man of sctencs and energy, whether heb« Democrat or not, to oc cupy and honor the position. I am not sure but that ihere may tie found Milne good scientific Itcino rat in the country to administer this office. il-anglder ; V I ■ - >• CCS . annul •e luuuoiMiltted by the H< publican party. There may be a I Wm or rat disco vet d with the ipiahiiis of a good scientific lislierman The Dreai dent himself le somewhat of an e«|tert in that line, lies tighter. | At ailments, let ns by Ibis enactment euabts him to select the right MW for the |a»l Don. Mo tar as I am individually ... ned I am not over eager whether lie select* a Itemocral or a Keotihltcan ln«arryuot the human ami lantern cut pro, isiiina propose.! hy this blit retail ted by my honored fr*en i from Vikansa* iMt Ihrimj, to •hoto | tender mv think* lor the Itrii tlege ol tlicse desultory remark* Applet!** I | TERRIBLE VENCEANCE. A Jaaloua Husband Has the Hand of Hie Wife Cut Off and Sent to Her Lover. From a London Kxchnnge. At the restoration cf Louis Phil lippe to the French throne many of Napoleon's soldiers were left in comparative poverty. One of them,a famous general,had a beautiful daugli ter whom lie wished to marry rich, but who fell in love wit li a poor young man—an under secretary or some thing of that kind. Hhe married, at tier father’s request,, a rich count, hut refused at the wedding ceremony to allow the ring to be placed upon her eft hand,upon which she wore a ruby put there by her lover. Her jealous husband was not loiw in finding out what was the rust ter,ami intercepting a letter in which the anient young lover claimed Matilda’s hand as his, he determined upon an awlul revenge. One night ae the celebrated surgeon, Llafranc, was returning from a professional visit, he wa« captured by a party of men, blindfolded and tak en to a distant palace, and Isd through a labyrinth oi pa-ages and rooms. At last he found hinisslt in a small chamber furnished with remark able luxury,and half-lit by an alabas ter lamp hung from the ceiling. The windows were hermetically sealed ns well as the curtains of an alcove at tiie end of the room. "Doctor,” said the man with whom he now found himself alone, in an ab rupt, loud voiie, "proper# for your work—an amputation.” "Where is tiie patient?” asked the doctor, turning toward the alcove. The curtains mo veil slightly, ami he heard a stifled sigh. "Prepare, sir," said the man, con vulsively. "But, sir, I must see the patient.” ■•jou win sec omy me ilium you au to cut oft." The doctor, folding Iiis arms and looking firmly at the other said; "Hir, you brought me hern by force. Jf you m-eil my professional assistance 1 shall do my duty without caring lor or troubling myself about your sec* ■ rets, but if you wisli to commit a crime you cannot force me to be your accomplice." "He content, sir," replied the other; j "there is no crime u: this," and lead- j ing him to t he alcov< lie drew from the curtain a hand. "It is this you are to cut off." The doctor took the hand in his; hie lingers trembled at tiie touch, ft was a lady’s hand—small, beautifully modeled, and its pure white set ott by a magnificent ruby encircled with diamonds. "But." cried the doctor, "there is | no need of amputation; there is—" “And I, sir! I say," thundered the 1 other, "if you refuse I will do it my self," and, seizing a hatchet, lie drew the hand toward a small table and seemed about to strike. The doctor \ arrested his arm. “J)o your duty, | then doctor.” “0, but tins is an atrocious act," said the surgeon. “What is that to you? It must be done. I wish it; madam wishes it al so. K necessary she will demand it In-rself. Come, madam; request the 1 doctor to do you this service." The doctor, nonplussed and almost i tainting under the torture of his feel ings, heard from the alcove ill a half expiring voice and an inexpressible accent of despair and resignation: "8ir, since you are a surgeon—yes —I entereat you—let it be you,—and not—oh, yes. you! you! in mercy!" "Well, doctor," said the man, "you or I?" The resolution of this man was so frightful, and the prayer of tiie poor lady so full of entreaty and despair, that the doctor felt that even hu manity commanded ot him compliance with tiie appeal of tiie victim, lie took his instruments with a last im piormg iook ill me uhkiiowii, wnu only pointed to the hand, and with u sinking heart bejan tiie operation. For the iirst time in bis experience his hand trembled, but the knife was doing its work; there was a cry from the alcove, and then all was silent. Nothing was heard but the horrid sound of tiie operation till the hand and tiie Haw fell together on the floor. Lisfranc wore the ruby on his watch chain, where it wa« seen by the young lover on his return to Pat is, and out of it grew a duel that led to a disclosure of the infamous crime. The morning after the lover’s arrival at the capital he was presented by a man in livery with an ebonv box. Opening it be discovered a bleeding hand—Matilda'*- and on it a paper with th*«. words: ‘ Hee how the countess of— keeps her oath.” -•*. ••• ♦r ■ — Drainage and Fruit Trees. The best way is to umler-drain with tile laid from two or three feel deep. Deep surface drains may carry otT surface water, hut low-land is gener ally kept wet hy ground water rising from below. It tile au* unattainable stones can be used, laid so a* to leave a throat, the ditch partly tilled with small stones, IIIvvited soils over the stones, and then with soil. Where neither aie accessible, three |tote* laid so a* to leave a throat will sometimes answer lor a lew years. Fruit trees should he planted a« soon -is the ground will dn to work ill spring. Dig holes large enough ,u receive all the loots straightened out, cut oil the ends of all broken roots smooth; truo the lo|si lucotrvcpinid with lust roots, set the tree about the same depth It stood In the nursery, cover the roots with fine, rich soil tree from elouee or clods; when roots are well covered tread down the will fruity, lilt the hol> wnd again tread or stamp down. Daily ought ws to renew our pur* |wises, and to stir our selves up to gieater fervor, and to savi "Help me, mV tltsl, III this my giowI purpose and in Thy holy serene, and grant that I may now tin* day U*jiu perfectly — Thomas a K> in pin. JOHN RUSKIN’S ROMANCE. Mow Mo Courtod, Married, and Waa Divorced From Mle Idoallstlo Woman. New York firaphtr. John Kuakin r!id a strangely way ward thing when he consented to get married. He did a most erratic and to the public a moat inexplicable thing when ha arranged for his divorce. He had accepted some of the loftiest traditions about womanhood that men sometimes read of and talk about, and lie looked for his ideal companion. One night he met her in the drawing-room of a Ijondon friend, who, without his knowing it, bad brought the young lady to meet the eyee of the great writer. It was a June night. He was thirty five, and she looked like a Greek goddess. He was dazzled. Nht was a tall, graceful girl of nineteen, with a face and figure as faultless as one of the statues of old. No one ever expected Kuakin to fall in love, and he did not. Hhe waa poor, needed a home and its comforts, and so t hey were married. Their wed dm J life waa |>e aceful, friendly, kindly to the highest degree, hut there was not a spars of affection to lighten tlivir existence. Hh# ad mired the great man she had married, and waa grateful lor the wealtli and comfort he showered on her. He worshiped tier aa he would the marbls mads life-like by the sculpture s chis el. Thers waa nothing human about the lile they led as husband and wife; and slut waa a woman, who. in her heart, like all true women, laughed at the traditions that made her sex lovs distant worship. One day Kuakin brought an artist to paint. Ills wife's picture. Ami ths man was Millais, and lie was a bright, 1 t IMtfl J ICIIVW) mimwii. oveiy inch of him, with a great and absorbing love for the beautiful, and a willingness to tell of Ins love. He began to paint the portrait of the magnificent woman, ami when he hail finished lie was m love witli his friend's wife. Womanlike nhe saw it, and perhaps she was not full of sorrow and re proach. It was the first tribute of real manful love that had been laid at tier feet. And Ituskin? Ills wide eyes saw the romance that was weaving around their two lives, and his heart realized how little affection lie had to lavish on tile woman whom lie had made his wife. How he told her the story of his pride in tier, and tile sacrifice lie was to make for tier, while site lay prons at his feet, ii one of the thing* which only she or lie could tell. It is difficult to obtain a divorce in England, but John Ituskin secured it tor tier, and one bracing morning in the early winter, a month after th* divorce was granted, Ituskin stood beside tiie couple in one of Ijondon's quiet churches, and saw them mails man and wife. That was a good many years ago, anil since then Millais has become ricli and famous, and is now Hir John, and Ins wife is my Hady Millais. The warmest, sturdiest friend the struggling painter had in hi* toiling •lays was the man whose wife tie had married, and through all the years ol Millais' later success and great honor Joint Ituskin lias been the welcome guest and almost daily visitor to the man and woman whose lives lie so unselfishly crowned with happiness. • ♦ • ♦ HowUltra-Fashionable Young Men of Boston Spend Their Leisure Hours. Boston Correspondence. This is the greatest club town in the world. Every phase of the intellect ual activity for which Boston is so famous is represented by a social or ganization. There is going on here what might be called a perpetual fer* mentat ionof ideas,scientific, philosoph ical, literary, religious—every kind, in stiort, that interests highly civilized I 'imanity—all of which urn seeking expiession ami recognition, very much as the molecules of a gas strive inces santly to escape from the receiver con fining them. Now, the most, effective way to push an idea, as every one admits, is over a dinner table. The man who would otherwise regard your pet hobby us no end of a bore will listen to you patiently as an accompaniment to the nuts and ^ raisins, and, with extra-dry chain-X pagne and a pousse-cafs to top off, your most unintereating remarks will amtear to him positively oracular. Thus it happens that fordining clubs there is a jierfect craze in this enlight ened metropolis. Kverybody who la anybody belongs to at least half a dozen, each of which represents some thing calculated to excite convival en thusiasm, say, ones a month The object to which this enthusiasm is di rected Is of coparatively little impor tance so long as the grub is palatable Mild the wine of gooil flavor. (l him* be theological, political, musical, artistie —whatever you please. Kvery religi ous denomination m Huston has its representative club with the solitary except ton uf the Kpiei opalians, who JUll MOW orvHMUIMkt till*. Theirs will he the swellest of nil—for the fashionable port m.- ot the town, though litiuvyt uiiiinst with n urn or less agnostic Violannm-in is piofeae tally devoted to the church of Ka< gland. At periodical interval* -arh pious ••t.liviiiy is assembled tor the jitirpose of discussing over the frslive hoard such tut}atriaul tpiv.tious of 4 sectarian utter* -t a* mat chance to tie uppermost l.ikcwise the literary coterus meet for mutual admiration, th* scteotiiiv |»ii|>W for teamed die i-iMsiou, 'lie pohtn inti* for theim uha> t ton ol Macloav. an .* ran a and so On ad tntthitMio 'I net* I*not, Itt short, an imaginable sublet nt cnatempa raiotttfs human interest which is not represented In Ho.ton hv a club
