CHAPTKR I.
"Handsome? Yes. He has the most
mnocent blue eyes in the world, and
the smile of an angel; but he broke
his mother's heart, spent her fortune
and his own, and committed every
wickedness under the sun before he
was one-and-twenty. Yes, it is very
sad—very! And now poor old Col
onel Branscomb is dying—the ac
counts this morning were quite hope
less—and Charlie is his next heir. An
other fortune for him to squander, as
he has already squandered everything
he could lay his bands on.”
“Put 1 thought the estate was not
entailed," remarked the lady to whom
the foregoing was addressed.
"No, It Is not entailed, but the Col
onel has very strong Ideas on the
subject of hereditary right. He nev
er would make a will; he has always
believed that Charlie ultimately
would pull himself together—poor old
man; he must die in that belief. Char
lie will make ducks and drakes of
beautiful Forest Lea in no time. Ob,
It is a sorrowful pity!"
The speaker, a handsome well pre
served woman of fifty or thereabouts,
with the exclusive stamp of the
"county" about her, sighed profound
ly as she concluded.
"But there is the niece—the Colonel
was devoted to her, 1 understood,” re
marked the second voice.
"Yes, absolutely devoted. Poor dear
child—she will miss him terribly In
every way! 1 believe the Colonel
pleased blmseif at one time with the
idea of a marriage between Nona and
Charlie, and threw them very much
together—too much, when you consid- !•
er what a fascinating scapegrace he is.
She is a very sweet girl."
“I hope her uncle has provided for
her. She was quite dependent on
him, was she not?”
"Yes. It Is impossible to say what
he has done—something, I hope. But
without a will—which he certainly
has not made—I should be afraid-"
Here I, Sidney Fort, the involuntary
listener to a conversation which, con
sidering the place anil circumstances,
was certainly indiscreet, stirred,
coughed, and otherwise made the fact
of my waking presence known. The
voices, which had been somewhat
raised, dropped at once to a lower
tone.
I was the third passenger in a first
[ at the office—“Old family; estate
worth fifteen thousand a year; busi
ness In the hands of the firm since
1825. Mr. Rowton thought a great
! deal of the Colonel; rather eccentric
and arbitrary, but a gentleman down
to the ground; quite of the old school;
never married; had nephews and
nieces;" he—Fisher—had seen a
young gentleman at the office, a neph
ew of the Colonel's.
The adltional Information conveyed
by my fellow-passengers imparted to
my expedition the interest it had hith
erto lacked. I was no doubt about to
save Forest I>»a from the hamlH of the
spendhrlft Charlie, and possibly to en
dow a young and lovely girl with the
fortune he had forfeited. The matter
was lifted all at once from a dry de
tail of business into a chapter of re
manre. I am, notwithstanding my
profession, somewhat imaginative,
and by the time the train stopped at
Westford, the station for which I was
bound, I had drawn a sufficiently fan
cilful sketch of the position.
Little, however, did 1 guess how the
events and experiences of the ensuing
week were to color and influence my
own future life.
My traveling companions also
alighted at Westford. 1 saw them, at
tended by a maid and a footman, and
obsequiously escorted by the station
master and porters, drive off in a
wagonette with a pair of wpll-groomed
roans, and then I was accosted by an
elderly groom with a cockade in his
hat.
“Mr. Fort, for Colonel Branscombe's,
Forest Lea, sir?"
“Yes," I replied. "How is the Col
onel?"
“Very bad, sir,” answered the man,
shaking his head, and with the man
ner of a good servant who feels the
loss of a good master.
My luggage, which consisted of a
small portmanteau and a black hag,
was put into the dog-cart in waiting
and in a few minutes I was being driv
en at an exhilarating pace through
something like six miles of a country
which, in its summer beauty of rich
foliage and delicious grpen pasture was
“A good mastpr served by faithful
servants,” I soliloquized. "They are
dreading the change which spendthrift
Charlie's reign will bring. It remains
to be seen whethet that reign is to be,
or whether a fair young chatelaine is
"OH! IT 13 A SORROWFUL PITY"
t
class railway carriage, traveling from
Ixmdon towards a country Hiation In
the midland counties. I had at start
ing withdrawn into the fartherest cor
ner of the carriage, and. being sleepy
from the previous night's burning of
the midnight oil, had disposed myself
to utilize the enforced Idleness of the
Journey In recouping exhausted na
ture. I believe that the two ladies,
in the Interest of their subject, had
quite forgotten that they were nol
alone. With my newspaper spread ov
er my face I looked, as to all lutents
and purposes I was. up to a certain
point, a dummy. The soft murmur of
the feminine voices had had at first a
•opurltlc effect; hut the journey Was
somewhat long. and. the demands of
nature satisfied, I awoke to hear the
fag end of a conversation which,
strange to -ay. had a particular Inter
est for me
I was the Junior partner lately ad
mitted. of a firm of lamdou solicitors
One of my seniors was on the Conti
nent. the other was laid up with one
of the serious bouts of bronchitis
which had been the primary cause
my initiation into the secrets of a
large and Important clientele Mi !m
perativ* summon* had rt>tne early that
morning for our Mr Mow ton to take
Instructions for the will of a louatry
client The terms of the telegram ad
mitted of no delay, and within an
hour of Ms receipt I was on my way
to (Huston Station wkeme I wired to
"t ‘olottel ilralist otut-e forest la-a
Mldsbite.’* that ‘Kidney Curt, of
Messrs Maw ion ( Curt,' had left by
the It *4 train," and would be wub
him m>t later than * p m
(a the absence of my principal and
the pressure at starting t bad no fur
ther knowledge of my client than tke
ftf|NsU furnish**1 by ths bead glefh
—like the good St. Elizabeth of gra
cious memory—to dispense her smiles
and her charities in the place of the
beloved Colonel.
CHAPTER II.
1 he great oak doors opened noise
lessly Hrt I mounted the wide shallow
steps Evidently some one wus on the
watch to save the clangor of the loud
bell through the silent sick-house. I
stepped from the portico into a large
wide hall hung with antlered beads
and other trophies, telling of the Colo
nel's love for sport, and carpeted with
tiger and other skins spread on the
polished oak floor It was altogether
an Imposing uud appropriate entrance
to the tine old mansion
Here, amongst the distinctly mascu
line elements. I was not long In de
tei-tlng the subtle signs of the pres
ence a huh had Jem pervaded my
waking dreams of Purest Isa Sei on
the ample old-fasht >n*d win low-ledge
were old china bowls heaped with rti h
crlm«>n and golden iim<< an) the
wide Areptaie was Riled with grace
fully grouped ferns A steady hat
wreathed with green leaves lay ua a
little Spiral-legged utile, close to a
large old fashioned screen which steal
oft i he »tai is sad near thi "i., r,, j
been thrown « pen of tin) gauntlet
gloves which could never hate Riled
f**«* rotoi..-! » ho W \ llllle |. . It
and tan terrier, nest led in <me <4 tb*
fur rugs roused itself and cam** up to
m*. nestling Us mid Riu* la my of
fered palm and tt-ohmg up into my
j tea* with It— wistful appeal uf its M).
.laid* Mttrr kdiirsilf It was a
lady • pet a«gie« ted or forgotten in
itee presente of sal and overwhelming
carwe
A grays middle aged man servant
Interrupted iny observations with a
respect ftul greeting,
i ‘'Dinner will be served at 7 o’clock,
sir," he said, “Will you take any re
freshments now—brandy or soda, or
sherry and bitters, sir? There is tea
in the drawing-room still." Then, as
I declined all his hospitable sugges
tions. ho added, "1 will show you to
your room, then, if you please, sir.
Tke Colonel is sleeping; the doctors
are most anxious he should not be
disturbed. W'e had Sir Alfred Cox
down from I-ondon this morning. 1
was to say that the Colonel might not
be able to see you for some little time,
He has had no sleep before this for
elght-and-forty hours—he has had
such violent pains—and now that the
sleeping-draught has taken effect the
medical gentlemen make a great point
of-’*
"Oh, certainly—I quite understand!
We must hope that this sleep will be
a turning point in the illness," I said
cheerfully. "Of course It is of vital
Importance that the Colonel should
not be aroused. Sleep Is often the
best medicine.”
“The Colonel has been counting the
hours until you could be here, sir.” the
man went on, as he unpacked my
portmanteau and laid out my apparel.
He sent for the Bradshaw as soon as
your telegram came, and ordered the
dog-cart himself. He only dropped off
as you turned into the avenue. Is that
all I can do for you,.sir? You will find
the morning papers in the library."
There was a suppressed Interest and
excitement in the manner of the man,
who was evidently an old and confi
dential retainer. My arrival and mis
sion were, as I could see, matters of
supreme importance and curiosity to
that anxious household.
The butler was waiting for me again
in the hall as I descended the stairs.
He threw open the door of the room
on the right, and ushered me in with
the announcement:
"Mr. Fort.”
It was with a momentary and un
comfortable thought of my morning
dress that I found myself in the pres
ence of a lady—a fair slim girl whose
white gown made her at once a con
spicuous point in the sombre, heavily
ftirnished room. She was seated in a
large leather chair at the table In the
center of the apartment, her hands
folded over the closed volume In her
lap, and her eyes fixed upon the door.
Large limpid blue-gray eyes they were,
I saw as I came nearer, searching mine
with an anxious questioning gaze.
This then was the "Nona” of whom
my fellow passengers had spoken—the
idea! about which I had woven so many
Imaginings. A very fair maiden, the
fairest, sweetest—I decided on the in
stant—whom it had ever been ray lot
to meet, although »he lovely eyes were
ringed with dark shadows as from
watching and weeping, and the white
gown had been put on without the ad
dition of a single flower or ornament.
She rose as I advanced towards her
and bowed gravely. Once, I thought
her hand stole out with a hesitating
gesture—as if she would have offered
it to me. But it was withdrawn almost
instantly, and rested on the table be
side her, as she stood, a graceful droop
ing figure, with that indescribable and
exquisite grace of delicate refinemcut
which is inherited—never acquired. A
very gracious chatelaine, 1 thought, If
the sleeping colonel upstairs should so
will. And with the thought there came
a strange dumb thrill of pain, as if
the fair vision were floating away
from me into the dim shadowy dis
tance.
Some conventional remark as to th3
weather was the only thing which oc
curred to me, and seemed for its com
monplaceness terribly out of harmony
with the spirit of the occasion, es- ;
peclally.as it was net by another long,
troubled, almost trembling look into
my face.
(To be continued.)
MARRIED TO ORDER.
—
How Alexander the tireat Celebrated
HU \ li lory Over Duriin.
The newspaper reporters of the time
of Alexander the Great, had there been
any, would have had the heaviest
day's work of thlr lives in covering
the interesting events that marked the
day Alexander was married. On that
day. says the New York Journal, au
thenticates! accounts tell us, no l-*sa
than 20.202 men and women were made
husbands and wives Alexander had
conquered Darius of Persia, and felt
that this great achievement was im
portant enough to be signalized In a
conspicuous manner, Imagine the
pride of a conqueror who decide* that
It can be measured properly only by g
wholesale giving and taking In mar
riage the like of w. e|» the world lias
never seen Alexander himself mar
ried itigtlra, the daughter of the con
quered king and decreed that un»
hundred of his chief officers should he
united to one hundred ladies from 'h*
noblest Persian an t kledean families
In addition to this, he stipulated that
tO.ooo of his Greek -o o.ers should
marry V«tatle women When
[everything w->s settled a vast pavilion
was rrrcted. the pillars of which were
] six fed high title hundred gorgeous
' chambers adjoined this for (he hun
^ dred nouie bfhlegr** ins, while f.>r the
| !it,«w an outer court was Inclosed iHtf*
, Side <>f who n tv'ilcs were Spr- t| for
1 the multitude K i. h pair ha I •> *t*
1 and ranged tb> m**lv«a In sent Ctr l-**
{ vr. it I the royal throne ttf itotrse
I the prtests could *ui marry tht* vast
k'lisiet of luntple* In the ordinary
Way. so ti issTf (he Great devised 4
v«rv stntP-e ceremony He gave his
1 hand to Hiatlra and b »»<d her an «x*
, ample that all the Nn leg moot* fo]>
! iowe l This ended the ceremony
l Then follow-d tne festival wht. h *a»t
j ed It* days, ttVe grandeur id Which
has Wetter been equated aim e
PHANTOM SHIP
—OR—
The Flying Dutchman.
•»''*-BY CAPTAIN MAJtXYAT.
CHAPTER XXIV—(Continued.)
The morning dawned with a smooth
sea and a bright blue sky; the raft
, nad been borne to leeward of the clus
ter of uninhabited islands of which we
spoke, and was now without hopes of
reaching them; but to the westward
I were to be seen on the horizon the re
fracted heads and trunks of cocoanut
trees, and in that direction it was re
solved that they should tow the raft.
The breakfast had been served out,
and the men bad taken to the oars,
when they discovered a proa full of
men sweeping after them from one of
the islands ter windward. That It was
a pirate vessel there could be no doubt;
but Philip and Krantz considered that
Ihelr force was more than sufficient to
repel them, should an attack be made.
This was pointed out to them; arms
were distributed to all in the boats, as
well as to those on the raft; and that
the seamen might not be fatigued, they
were ordered to lie on their oars, and
await the coming up of the vessel.
As soon as the pirate was within
range, having reconnoitered her an- ;
tagonists, she eea9ed pulling, and com- j
menced firing from a small piece of
cannon which was mounted on her |
bows. The grape and langridge which
she poured upon them wounded sev- j
eral of the men, although Philip had
ordered them to lie down flat on the
raft and in the boats. The pirate ad
vanced nearer, and her Are became
more destructive, without any oppor
tunity of returning it by the Utrecht’s
people. At last it was proposed, as
the only chance of escape, that the
boats should attack the pirate. This
was agreed to by Philip; more men j
were gent In the boats; Krantz took
the command; the raft was cast off,
and the boats pulled away. But scarce
ly had they cleared the raft, when, 33 j
by one sudden thought, they turned
round, and pulled away In the oppo
site direction. Krantz’s voice was !
hpard by Philip, and his sword wa3 !
seen to flash through the air; a mo
ment afterward he plunged into the I
sea, and swam to the raft. It ap- 1
peared that the people in the boats, j
anxious to preserve the money which j
they had possession of, had agreed
among themselves to pull away and
leave the raft to its fate. The pro- j
posal for attacking the pirate had
been suggested with that view, and
as soon as they were clear of the raft,
they put their intentions into execu
tion. in vain had Krantz expostulated
and threatened; they would have
taken his life; and when he found that
his efforts were of no avail, he leaped
from the boat. “Then we are lost, I
fear," said Philip, addressing the pilot,
who stood near to him.
“Lest—but not lost by the pirates
—no harm there! He. he!”
The remark of Schriften was correct.
The pirates. Imagining that in taking
to their boats the people had carried
with them everything that was valu
able, instead of firing at the raft, im
mediately gave chase to the boats.
The sweeps were now out, and the proa
fr*w over the smooth water like a sea- j
bird, passed the raft, and was at first |
evidently gaining on the boats; but ,
their speed soon slackened, and as the
day passed, the boats and then the pi- j
rate vessel disappeared in the south- I
ward; the distance between them be- j
ing apparently much the same as at
the commencement of the chase.
The raft being now at the mercy of
the wind and waves, Philip and Krantz
collected the carpenter’s tools which
had been brought from the ship, and
selecting two spars from the raft, they
made every preparation for stepping
a mast and setting sail by the next |
morning.
The morning dawned, and the first |
objects that met their view were the
boats pulling back toward the raft,
followed closely by the pirate. The !
men had pulled the whole night, and
were worn out with fatigue, it was
presumed that a consultation had been
held, in which it was agreed that they
should make a sweep, so as to return
to obtain provisions and water, which
they had not on board at the time of i
their desertion. But it was fated other- ■
wise, gradually the men dropped their
oar*, exhausted. Into the bottom of
the bout, and the pirate vessel follow
ed them with renewed ardor. The
boats were raptured one by one; the
booty found was more than the pirates
anticipated, and it hardly need be said
that not one was spared All this took
piaee within three mile* of the raft,
and I'htllp anticipated that the next
movement of the vessel would be to
ward them, but he was mistaken Hat
tailed with their booty. and imagining
that there could h« no m ire on the
raft, the pirate pulled away to the east
ward toward the islands from among
whUh she had Ural made her appear
Hr* Thu* Were Item* who expected
j to c*« ape and who ha-l deserted their
'ompauton* deservedly punished,
while those who anticipated every ills
v»ter front thlv desertion discovered
that It was ns « nit* of their baiag
saved
the r»nt-»in>ng people* ott hoard the
•aft amounted to about forty live,
Philip Kistu H* hrlften Amine, the
wo mates eiiteeu seamen and tw*n
y f'lt soldier* wb‘* bad b--n etn
curbed at Amsterdam ttf provision*
hey had tail lent f<tr three or four
■ *skt. hut at • ale* they were very
thort. already um having sufMciant fur
more than three days at the usual al
lowance. As soon as the mast hail
been stepped and rigged, and the sails
set (although there was hardly a
breath of wind), Philip explained to
the men the necessity of reducing the
quantity of water, and It was agreed
that it should tie served out so as to ex
tend the supply to twelve days, the
allowance beipg reduced to half a pint
per day.
There was a debate at this time, as
the raft was In two parts, whether
It would not be better to cast off the
smaller one, and put all the people on
board the other; but this proposal was
overruled, as, in the first place, al
though the boats had deserted them,
the number on the raft had not much
diminished, and moreover, the raft
would steer much better under sail now
that it had length, than it would do
If they reduced its dimensions and al
tered Its shape to a square mass of
floating wood.
For three days It was calm, the sun
poured down his hot beams upon them,
and the want of water was severely
feu; those who continued to drink
spirits suffered the most.
The night closed in as before; the
stars shone bright, hut there was no
moon. Philip had risen at midnight
to relieve Krantz from the steerage of
the raft. I'suaily the men had lain
about in every part of the raft, hut
this night the majority of them re
mained forward. Philip was commun
ing with his own bitter thoughts, wh9n
he heard a scuffle forward, and the
voice of Krantz crying out to him for
help. He quitted the helm, and seiz
ing his cutlass ran forward, where he
found Krantz down, and the men se
curing him. He fought his way to him.
but was himself seized and disarmed.
■ Cut away—cut away," was called out j
by those who held him; and In a few
seconds Philip had the misery to be
hold the after-part of the raft, with
Amine upon it, drift apart from the
one on which he stood.
“For mercy's sake! my wife—my
Amine!—for Heaven’s sake, save her!"
cried Philip, struggling in vain to
disengage himself. Amine also, who
had run to the side of the raft held
out her arms—it was in vain—they
were separated by more than a cable's
length. Philip made one more desper
ate struggle, ar.d then fell down de- j
prived of sense and motion.
CHAPTER XXV.
It was not until the day had dawned
that Philip opened his eyes, and dis- |
covered Krantz kneeling at his side;
at first his thoughts were scattered
and confused; he felt that some dread
ful calamity had happened to him,
but he could not recall to mind what
it was. At last it rushed upon him,
and he burled his face in his hands.
"Take comfort," said Krantz, “we
shall probably gain the shore today,
and we shall go in search of her as
soon as we can.”
He offered such consolation as his
friendship could suggest, but in vain.
He then talked of revenge, and Philip
raised his head. After a few min
utes' thought, he rose up. “Yes,” re
plied he, “revenge!—revenge upon
those dastards and traitors! Tell me,
Krantz, how many can we trust?"
“Half of the men, I should think,
at least. It was a surprise.” A spar
had been fitted as a rudder, and the
raft had now gained nearer the shore
than It ever had done before. The
men were in high spirits at the pros
pect, and every man was sitting on
his own store of dollars, which, In
their eyes, Increased in value in pro
portion as did their prospect of escape.
Philip discovered from Kranta that
It was the soldiers and most indiffer
ent seamen who had mutinied on the
night before and cut away the other
raft, and that all the best men had
remained neutral.
“And so they wilt be now, I im
agine," continued Kranta; "the pros
pect of gaining the shore has. In a
manner, reconciled them to the treach
ery of their companions."
“Probably," replied Philip, with a
hitter laugh; “but I know- what will
rouse them, Send them here to me."
Philip talked to the seamen whom
Kranta had sent over to him. He
pointed out to them that the other
nn'ii were traitors not to be relied up
on; that they would sacrifice every
thing and everybody for their own
gain; that they had already done so
for money, and that they themselves
would have no security, either on the
raft or on the shore, with such peo
ple, that they dare not sleep for fear
of having thetr throats cut, and that It
were better at ottre to get rill of thi>se
who could not b# true to each other, I
that |t would facilitate thetr escape j
and that they could divide between j
tnrieeelves the money which the others I
had se< ure<l and by which they could
double their own shares That It had j
been hi* intention, although he had
•aid nothing to enforce the restoration
of the money for the t-eft*It' of the I
company as arts a# they had gained I
a l« tltr«d port, where the authorllte*
could inlet (ere; but that If they r«ui- j
seated to futa sad aid him he would
now give th*-m the whole of it for their t
own a or
What will not the deetre of gain ef- j
feet * Is It therefore to te< Woadeied
at that thee# men who were, indeed
hut little better than those who were
thus, In his desire for retaliation, de
nounced by Philip, consented to his
proposal? It was agreed that If they
did not gain the shore the others
should be attacked that very night and
tossed into the sea.
But the consultation with Philip had
put the other party on the alert; they,
too. held council and kept their arms
by their sides. As the breeze died
away, they were not two miles from
the land, and once more they drifted
back into the ocean. Philip’s mind
was borne down with grief at the loss
of Amine; but It recovered to a cer
tain degree when he thought of re
venge; that feeling stayed him up, and
he often felt the edge of his cutlass,
impatient for the moment of retribu
tion.
It was a lovely night; the sea was
now smooth as glass, and not a breath
of air moved in the heavens; the sail
of the raft hung listless down the mast,
and was reflected upon the calm sur
face by the brilliancy of the starry
night alone. It was a night for con
templation—for examination of one’s
self, and adoration of the Deity; and
here, on a frail raft, were huddled to
gether more than forty beings, ready
for combat, murder and for spoil. Each
party pretended to repose; yet each
wag quietly watching the motions of
the othpr, with their hands upon their
weapons. The signal was to be given
by Philip; It was to let go the halyards
of the yard, so that the sail would fall
down upon a portion of the other
party and entag'e them. By Philip's
directions Schriften had taken the
helm, and Krantz remained by his side.
The yard and sail fell clattering
down, and then the work of death *
commenced; there was no parley, no
suspense; each man started upon his
feet and raised his sword. The voices
cf Philip and Krantz alone were heard,
and Philip’s sword did Its work. He
was nerved to his revenge, and never
could be satiated as long as one re
mained who had sacrificed Amine. As
Philip had expected, many had been
covered up and entangled by the fall
ing of the sail, and their work was
thereby made easier.
Some fell where they stood; others
reeled back and sank down under the
smooth water; others were pierced as
they floundered under the canvas. In
a few minutes the work of car nage was
complete. Schriften meanwhile looked
on, and ever and anon gave vent to
his chuckling laugh—his demoniacal
"He! he!"
The strife was over and Philip stood
against the mast to recover his breath.
“So far art thou revenged, my
Amine,” thought he; “but, oh! what
are these paltry lives compared with
thine?” And now that his revenge
was satiated, and he could do no more,
he covered hts face up with his hands
and wept bitterly, while those who had
assisted him were already collecting
the money of the slain for distribu
tion. These men, when they found
that three only of their side had fal
len, lamented that there had not been
more, as their own share of the dol- ^
lars would have been increased.
There were now but thirteen men
besides Philip, Krantz and Schrtften
left upon the raft. As the day dawned
the breeze again sprang up, and they
shared out tho portions of water
which would have been the allowance
of their companions who had fallen.
Hunger they felt not; but the water
revived their spirits.
(To be continued.)
HELD COURT AT DOO SHOW.
A Pretty tilrl und the Attention She
Attracted by Her Artiom.
Over at the dog show on the open
ing night a pretty girl followed by the
customary masculine throng that al
ways circulates around a pretty girl
as a moth whirls around a candle, wan
dered through the aisles of the First
regiment armory and listened to all the
noisy canines sing their doleful songs
of woe and wrong. She patted the
heads of the ugliest bulldogs and twist
ed a bunch of violets into the collar
of a shaggy St. Bernard.
She pulled the tails of the kinkled
pugs and tweaked the ears of the Jaun
ty fox-terriers. She righted a collar
that had turned awry and even ven
tured to make friends with the blood
hounds. The dogs were happy and
so was the pretty girl. The delight of
the eseorting masculine throng was
not so evident, but they pretended at
least that they enjoyed playing seconJ
fiddle to a i'og rather than not having
a chance to take part In her orchestra
at all.
One grea' bulldog evidently shared
the sentiments of the men When the
pretty girl reached the cage that con
tained the ferocious looking brute she
found It had no water and was bark
ing Its dissatisfaction at the turn of
affair* In the most emphatically pro
testing manner.
"The poor dog." exclaimed the girl
lit crescendo accents of pity, and at
once she remedied the evil by helping
her four footed frleml to some water
stolen front the nelghtxirlng cage Aft
er that act of mercy the dog, like the
men, was her abject victim. •
It put iM th paws on her shoulder*
• nd laid H head down affectionately,
and when the girl attempted to wander
away the dog cried so piteously that
she returned again and again to com
fort It. * Boor thing,” exclaimed one
of the surrounding men with » ahim
»!« at grimn>e. poor thing Who anti
that a dog hadn't th* feeling* of n
man *"
The pretty girl laughed und blushed
and r«n ar«t*d the speaker wtth the
present of a very special smile
btatlfitl1 That young mu and hit
»tfe e ho seemed mi much In love htvg
ke*u attested as swindler*" ‘Thai
proses their devotion tog om They
were lake* up with each other | |p,
adeiphtg Bulletin