4JL-
CARA'SBRAVERY.
by ESTitnn enni.n jcnxximi.
'For wliom did you want tho house
young lady?"
"For niysfilf, sir."
Dr. Leo Leighton stood amazed.
The girl before him was so young
not moro than eighteen, and so pretty
golden-haired and blue-eyed as an
angel. He had never dreamed that
Bhe was making the application to
rent Thistle Cottage herself. But
Miss Caroline Clarke took no notice
of his surprise.
"The house is in good order, sir."
"It requires a few repairs, only,"
said the young physician, rather stiff.
Jy.
He had begun to thing he was throw
ing his time away.
"And those you will make?"
"If I lot the cottnee yes."
The younu lady mused a moment.
"I think I will like it," sho said
then.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Clarke?"
"Yes."
"Do you quite understand the sit
uation?" "I think I do. The housvt.hought
to be haunted, and the rent is merely
nominal to anyone who will live
there."
"Yes. But How are you situated
in regard to family, my dear young
lady?"
"I have the care o? two younger
brothers twelve and fourteen years
old. I have only a limited income,
which I eke out by embroidery. I am
anxious to got my brothers out of the
city and there is a good academy
here. 1 am not afraid of ghosts,"
with a faint smile. "We shall come."
Hef wfOrds and manner were not at
variance with her delicate beauty
all was so petite and yeo so self-possessed
and dignified. Dr. Leighton's
experience in girls did not seem to
servo him at all in this emergency. He
recollected that his sisters, Maud and
Bess, always regarded the outer walls
of Thistle Cottage with an apprehen
sive gaze, and could not be persuaded
to pa3s it atone after dark, and here
was this girl, no older than they, pro
posing tollve there, with two children!
"You have no parents?"
"No."
"Relatives?"
"None to rely upon. I depend en
myself entirely, Dr. Leightoiv; I am
used to it. Would you like to let me
have Thistle Cottage?" with a steady
glance into ttie young man's counte
nance. "I hesitate only on your account,"
he hastened to nay. "It is no fablo
that a man was killed there. He was
murdered by a son of unsound mind,
after a quarrel about money. The
estate was owned by my father. It is
now mine. It long ago fell into ill
repute on account of the murder, but
it 13 o. very pretty place and has been
kept in repair. I will walk over it
with you again and make any changes
you may find desirable,"" thus tacitly
consenting to the young lady's pro
posal. , What her words failed to dp, her
clear blue eyes had succeeded in ac
complishing. They had won the con
fidence of the owner of the cottage.
"She can but try since sho wishes,"
he said to himself. "I am close by
at our house. If she gets frightened
out sho can come to us."
When they had gone over the house
again, the girl a?ked, quite coolly:
"What became of the mure'erer?"
"He lied from justice is probably
dead. He has never been heard from,
and his ghost is said to haunt this
spot. If you can prove that it does
not. I will give you five years rent
here free."
The young cirl made no reply, only
smiled brightly.
"What a brave litt'e creature!"
thought Dr. Leighton.
A week later Caroline Clarke and
her brothers were settled at the This
tle Cottage.
Dr. Leighton did not fancy the
boys. Ho told his mother that they
were "whelps that wanted licking in
to shape." But when he saw the gen
tleness and tact used by their sister
in managing them, when he saw her
patience, her charming smile in en
couragement of their simplest well
doing, ho was ashamed of his intoler
ance. "My father," she hesitated, "did
not set his boys a very good example.
They were much away from home he
fore he died. They will do much bet
ter here away from harmful associa
tions," sh suid.
"That's a good cirl a rare good
girl, Lee," sain old Mrs. Leighton. "I
only wish Maud and Bess had half o.a
much character."
But Cara, as the boys called her,
did not trouble her neighbors. She
was an exquisite housekeeper; she had
a piano an old one but of mellow
tone; she did much work with crewels
and flosses. In the evening sin as
sisted her brothers with their studies.
They were fond of her under their
roughness and selfishness. They
Bhoveled snow, when it came, took
care of the poultry she encouraged
them hi their ambition for prize chick
ens and kept in wood and
water. There was not a
brighter little homo m the
village. Cara had finished the rooms
herself with pretty artistic touches.
On the pale puff paper of the sitting
room she hat. painted, here and there,
u bunch of red Bergundy roses. She
had gilded the cornices and hung be
fore a doorway a crimson curtain.
As for gupsts when people queried
her, she simply answered: "No, I
have not seen any."
But perhaps the air of the mount
ain village did not agree with Cara
Clarke, for she grew pale. She was
always sweet, but sometimes she had
a little wearied air. Dr. Leighton
asked her if she did not work too
hard, "It is not that," she answered.
He wondered sometimes, with a secret
disquiet, it she had not somewhero a
Bweatheai who did not write to her.
But Ctu-a 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
raising. But their sister looked so ill
that the younj physician felt called
upon to expostulate
"Cara," ho said, "I want to speak
tqyou. Yotimusthavoa change or
jow will die."
40, no, I shall not sho replied, in
cradtuoualy. ur countenance cives token of
unmistakable exhaustion. You are
doing too much labor or you have
some trouble. Cara, why do you not
confide in mel Do you nut believe I
am your friend?"
"Oil, yes. It is nothing, only I do
not sleep very well."
"Why?"
She made no reply, and seeing that
his inslstauce distressed her, he cs as-
cd to urge her confidence at that time,
though more certain than over that
sho had a painful secret. He was sat
isfied that sho had no organic disease;
and her mind seemed to have no mor
bid tendency. But the colorlesb cheek,
the hollow temples, theair of languor,
betrayed that something daily and
hourly sapped the young girl's
strength.
One morning. Willie, the younger
boy, rapped at Ins office door.
"Something's the matter with my
sisteiv" he said. "We can't wake hor
up. Won't you come over?"
Dr. Leighton found Cara in a stupor
and delirious, with every symptom of
brain fever. He lost no timo in get
ting assistance. Mrs. Hodgdon, the
village nurse, was at Cara's bedside
when she awoke.
Dr. Leighton had just left the room
and was in the next apartment. He
did not go in immediately, though he
heard the girl talking.
"Am I so very sick?" she asked.
"No, dear. You was feverish and
your mind wandered a little, and I
was out of a place and told Dr. Leigh
ton 1 could stay with you a day or
two as well as not for my board. I
hain't forgotten the jackets as Willie
outgrew that you sent to my Bobbie;
and I had feeling for a young girl with
no mother's hand in the hour o'
need."
"Oh," moaned theyoung girl. "I'm
not sick, I'm worn out! Oh, this
dreadful house! I have not slept
soundly all winter."
"Why. dearie?"
"Oh, Mrs. Hodgdcn, there is some
body in this house beside ourselves.
Beside me and the boys, I mean.
Somebody creeps about and I am al
ways listening lor that step. It is
killing me! Oh, don't tell anyone! I
did not mean to tsll you, but I am so
weak. Don't, don't say a word to
Dr. Leighton. I must bear it, because
its all the home we have, and the boys
never had such a piettv, nice home
before, and they are doing so well,
and are so good." I was not afraid at
first. I am not afraid now, only for
them. There may be some evil about,
though ndthing has ever harmed us.
But as soon asl fall asleep I start up
and listen."
Cara was begging the old woman not
to betray her confidence, when Dr.
Leighton came into the room.
"You inns; tell me the whole story,
Cara!" he said. "You shall not lose
anything by it," he added.
Hut Cara broke out, crying, in her
weakness giving way to her emotions,
and for a time the tumult would have
its way. She was brought to listen to
reaon at hist.
"It was two months after we came
here," she said, "that I first heard
those creeping, creeping steps. I tried
to think it was the trees, or the wind,
or the cat, but I heard them wlien
there was no wind at all, and the cat
was asleep on the foot of my bed, and
the things were moved from their
places about the home, end lately I
have missed food. That's since I
would not allow myself to believe that
a spirit haunted "the place. I have
searched every spot and nook in tills
house. There is only the space above
the scuttle in the roof, and there are
no stairs."
"Oh, Dr. Leighton!" groaned Mrs.
Hodgdon, "then, of course, it's
spirits."
"Nonsense."
Dr. Leighton contented himself with
prescribing for the sick and over
wearied girl, and after a lew days of
care arranged a drive for her in his
new buggy, with her brother Jack as
attendant.
"You are to take a nice lone drive,
and not be back under two hours,"
he raid, 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 the
spring day. her trouble fe.l away
from her like a nightmare, and the
color came bask to the prettv cheek.
Five minutes after her departure
from Tbistle Cottage two men were
in the house with Dr. Leigh ton. They
went rapidly through it, beginning with
the cellar. Every wail wa-j tried, with
the idea of discovering any unknown
space or passage. Nothing unknown
was developed." At length a short
ladder was brought, and the men as
cended to the attic.
It was only a hollow space beneath
tho center of the roof, quite ur.liglited.
But enough light penetrated the place
to show an unkempt figure rising Irom
its liar of straw and rags in one cor
ner. "What's this? Are you after me?"
he said, in hollow tones.
The men silently gazed on this object
with astonishment, repuUion and
pity. It was a man, but so thick the
mask of dirt and grim, so ragged the
beard and hair, grotesque the costume
of tatters from which fell feathers anil
straw, it seemed some unknown crea
ture instead of a human being.
"Great heavens! it h Simon Leland!"
cried Dr. Leighton.
This only added to the consterna
tion of the other men. for Simon
Leland was the half crazed boy who
murdered his father at Thistle Cottage
five years bPfore. But want and
misery had given him the appearance
of an old man.
"I don't caro what you do with
me!" cried tho hollow voice. "Only
give me something to eat."
"Conic with us and you shall have
all you want," Baid Dr. Leighton, not
unkindly.
"Where? Down there, where tho
fire and the light and the girl is?" ask
ed tho wretched being, and when they
nodded, ho caught up a rouah ladder
of rope, quickly adjusted it and swung
himself down beforo them. But ho
was bo weak ho staggered, and they
were obliged to help him down tho
stairs to tho kitchen, where Mrs. Hodg
don, shaking with excitement and
consternation, placed food upon tho
table from which he snatched it, with
out any pretence of eating from n
plate,devounng it like a half-famished
animal. When he had filled himself,
he would have laid down on the
floor and gono to sleep, but that the
unaccustomed plenty sickened him,
and he began to groan and roll about.
In a short time, the sheriff, who had
been sent for, arrived, and ho was
taken away. No one believed that
the poor, underwitted, half-dying
creature was a fit subject for punish
ment, but tho county ail was a clean
and comfortablo refuge for him in his
destitution. Horo ho remained until
consigned to the almshouse. No re
liable account nf his career could be
obtained from him, but it is probable
that he had sought refuge at Thistle
Cottago in its desertion, and existed
miserably there a great while before
discovered. Ho had prowled about
at night searching for food, of which
he found a scanty supply.stealingfrom
corn bins, pigs and poultry, and rob
bing hen roosts, eating the flesh of the
fowls raw. It was the occasional dis
covery of his miserable figure which
had called into cxistenco the story of
the place being haunted by his ghost.
But so reduced had he become lie
would probably have died in his lair
but for Dr. Leighton's discovery of
him.
Dr. Leighton kindly saved Cara from
witnessing so much misery. She nev
er saw Simon Leland. Her nerves
had already borne much, and that
she had been willing still to sutler in
secret for the sake of preserving a
good homo for her young brothers was
a fact which became known and en
deared her to many hearts. Her
friends multiplied, and, when Bhe ac
cepted as a lilo companion, Dr. Leigh
ton, tho oldest friend of all, hearty
kindness surrounded her and warm
wishers for her happiness danced
merrily at the wedding.
"PAYING ATTENTIONS."
Tho Evils of Promaturo CobbIp
About Lovo Affairs.
Harper's Dazar.
As it is obviously a young man'sdu
ty to pay attentions to some young
woman, considering that this is really
the chicl motive of social intercourse,
it is rather hard upon him that he no
sooner begins to fulfill his mission, and
calU, and drives, and dances moro or
less boldly with one damsel, than nil
the match-making women to whom a
love affair, anybody's love affair, is
precious and entertaining, interchange
ideas upon tho subject and report
that young Crayon is in lore with
Miss Coupon; and although he may
never have thought of love in relation
to M133 Coupon, and although he may
possibly have drifted into a genuine
affection Booncror later if nobody had
meddled since proximity is adanger
ouu factor, and brings about more
marriages than match-making the
premature report has a very damag
ing ellect; he begins to see that unless
he is serious in paying attentions he is
compromising not only himself, but
the young woman, and keeping other
suitors at a distance; and although
he may not know whether ho has any
positive designs or no. and his emo
tions may be in a state of evolution,
and he may not entirely understand
his own designs, yet he is put upon
hi-, guard, the cordial relation between
the two cools, and he earns the name
cf being a heartless trifler, or is forced
into a hasty declaration betore he is
ready to make it. Naturally the looker-on
says that he ought to know his
own mind; that he has no business to
devote himself to a woman whom he
does not love. But love is not an in
stantaneous affair, like being struck
by lightning; it is a growth. And now
prithee, is a youri( man to know
whether he loves or not if he may not
live more or less in 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 study of.to being placed under
the microscope, and then by-and by
turned aside as an inperfect specimen.
But she has the Bame privilege herself,
and would be sadly (shocked if
any one supposed that she would
accept a lover without some knowl
edge of his qualifications. One might
nsk if she, on her side, had serious
and matured designs when she answer
ed his notes, accepted his invitations,
his bouquets and confectionery, if she
were not also attempting to discover
if he were her ideal. We do not dis
pute the fact that there are men who
llirt maliciously, so to 3penk who do
not mean to fall in love who have
themselves well in hand; but they
need not be confounded with those
who are Blmply trying to discover
their heroine.
Messrs. L. W. Ilabercoui, Louts Schade,
Simon Wolf ami Nov. L. II. Shleder, ot
Washington, ndilresstd tho House com
mittee on the nlcohollc liquor trafllc In op
position to tho 1)111.1 to uroviile tor a com
midhion ot Inquiry on tlioli(uar tratllc nud
for prohibition in the DistrictutColumbin.
A general court martini nt Fort Mlmou
la, Mont., sentenced Private Thomas M
Kvily, Company li. Third Infantry, elmrg
id nith desertion, to be dishonorably dis
charged from tho service ot tho United
States, forfeit all pay ami allowances due
and be confined utliard labor for three
.riirs.
A COOLCUT-THROAT.
Bandit Vasquoz InspootsHls Coffin
With Much Intorost and Dlos
Gamely.
Snn Trundled Hxnmlner.
I eaw Kernaghan's neck stretched
one Friday, and It recalled another
hanging of thirteen years back tlmt
of Tiburcio Vosquoz.
The little brizand, who had rotiM
andslatighteied with his band through
Santa Clara, San Benito, Fresno, Tu
lare and tho wholo Southern country,
until ho had achieved a notoriety as
high as that of his great predecessor,
Joaquin Murietta, was sitting absorb
ed in a newspaper when tho reporters
entered. Ho had been permitted to
leave his cell and tako the freedom of
the asphalt-paved corridor. His chair
was fashioned fiom a dry goods box,
and his lamp stood on the equally
rough table, whero thero were also
pens and ink. He had been writing
his last letters.
Vasnucr. rose and nodded pleasant
ly to his curious visitors. There were
half a dozen of them, and each pre
sented him with a cigar or two, so
that he had a handful.
"I'm afraid," said he with a smile,
"that I shan't have time to smoke
all these."
The fellow was a gentleman. Ho
showed it not only in his politeness,
but in tho cool courtesy with which
he faced his dreadful end.
"I would rather talk of something
else, if it is agreeable to you, gentle
men," ho said, when the reporters
fell to business, and questioned him
about the state of his mind.
"I am to bo hanged to-morrow.
Very well. I don't like it, but I have
no choice, see?"
Sheriff Adams appeared, and the.
Mexican retired into tho shadow with
him. They whisperod together and
the officer retired with a deprecatory
showing of his palms.
Soon there was a ti-umninc of feet
without, tho key turned, and the
doors were thrown open, clanging.
Two men bearing a collin, and follow
ed by a black-coated undertaker with
a pair of trestles in his hand, came in.
The coffin a fino one, Btudded with
silver-headed nails wa3 placed on tho
trestles, and tho brigand, cigar in
teeth, stepped up and inspected it
with lively interest. He halfsquatted
and ran his hand along the side.
"It's too short," he said, with sur
prise, looking at tho awed undertaker,
who assured him it was all right
that it should be measured at the top
not near the bottom.
"It's high," cried Vasquez, with a
wave of his hand, nleased at the qual
ity of the coffin, winch had been pro
vided by his friends. The undertak
er thought he referred to the lid, which
was rounded, and said it was the fash
ion to make them that way.
He put his hand inside, felt the pad
ding, pressed the little pillow, and
with an upward flirt of his cigar ob
served: "Well, I shall nleep thero very well
forever."
On the morrow he walked out into
the sunlit jailyard, climbed the steps
of tne scaffold and threw a wistful
glance beyond the walls at the blue
hills, on which ho had ridden on many
a fray with his cut-throats.
They sought to unbutton hie coat
and collar. He waved them aside po
litely and did it himself. Ho assisted
the hangman in adjusting the straps
and tope, glanced down to see that
his feet were nresisoly on the crack,
kissed the crucifix held out to him by
the priest, and horo himself with pa
tience and dignity while they drew
over Pirn a white shroud and placed
on his head and shoulders a great
black hood. "I am ready," ho said
Berenely, closing his eyes.
And that was the last of Vasquez.
He Had His Sphere.
Te Rev. E. A. Dickinson, editor of
the Rtligious Herald of Richmond, Va.,
was telling tho Philadelphia Baptist
association recently how necessary It
was to enlist the active services of
every member of a congregation, when
some one pertinently usked: "What
are you going to do with a man that
can't do anything?"
"That's a mistake," returned the
reverend journalist. "Every man is
of some use. If he can't do one thing
he can do another. The point is to
find out just what he is fit for, and,
having found it, put him at it. This
recalls an actual experience I once had
in a backwoods congregation in Vir
ginia. It was my first visit among
tho people and I was anxious to make
it successful. It should be remember
ed that church in tho backwoods
means a gathering of all tho people
and a good many dogs. After the
opening hymn I called on old Deacon
Blank to lead us in prayer.
"'Taint no use askin' "me," he Baid,
"I can't do it,"
"Suppose you start the next hymn,
then?
"Can't sing oither."
"How about taking up tho collec
tion? I guess you can manage that?"
"Nop. I'm a bad hand at getting
'round. Better git some one else."
Noticing that the old fellow carried
a stout walking Btick, an idea was
suggested.
"Well, brother, do you think you
are aole to keep out the dogs?"
"You bet I air," he confidently re
plied. Then taking a seat at the'door
he battled with the brutes through
out the meeting, and after it was over
moro than one of the congregation
were followed homo by yelping cms
with bruibod limbs.
Every man hae hii sphere of useful
ness. Tho inscription on the Gombetta
monument opposite tho Louvre,
Paris, will be "Frenchmen, raise your
souls and your resolutions to the
height of the perils which weigh on the
fatherland. It yet depends upon yon to
show to the universe the spectacle of
a great people that will not perish."
He Supped With the Presi
dent. Prom the Atlanta Journal,
In tho early years of this century,
when log houses were good enough for
tho avcrago Georgian, acertaindoctor
presided over Franklin College.
The simple habits of their dignified
sires did not prevent the boys of those
days from having their fun indeed,
they carried on an amount ot devil
ment which the college bdys ot theBO
times would consider respectable.
Tho boya thought that anything
was fair which would make ono of the
faculty the victim of a joke, and on
one occasion they laid a dark plot to
rob tho doctors poultry yard and
afterward celebrate theovent by a
midnight banquet.
Tho doctor's chickens were thoprido
of his domestic establishment, and he
had built for tholr accommodation a
log house. The logs was "notched
down" at tho corncra and held in
place by their own weight and the
roof.
At a lato hour the boyB repaired to
the hen hotiso, armed with a fence
rail. It wa8 an easy matter to in
sert the rail between two logs and
pry up those above, bo as to mnko
nn opening through which a man
could crawl. t A dapper young fellow,
who hnd visited the doctor'8 daugh
ters, went in and began to pull the
clnckon's off the rooBt and wring their
necks. Whilu no did bo the boys out
Bide kept Iheir weight on tho raih and
so kopt tho crack open for his escape.
Tho nice young man, whom we will
call Bob, had dropped about a doz
en chickens outside, nnd the wholo
crowd wao in high glee over tho pro
spective banquet. Juetthen a big old
rooster crowed.
"Look out, Bob; break that roost
er s neck and stop his noise."
"Sh! What'H tliat?"
Thero was a low growl.
"Boys, you have let these logs down
too low lift them a little, bo I can get
out. Be quick about it!"
At that instant there was a loud
bark and a big dog bounded into tho
poultry yard. Tho boys on the out
side for an instant stood their ground.
They dropped tho rail and grabbed
chance weapons to beat off the dog,
but beforo they could disable him tho
door of tho doctor's residenco opened
and his tall figure appeared. The
boys scattered, all but one.
The logs had come together again
and Bob was a prisioner. He crouch
ed in a corner and held his breath,
hoping that ho would be overlooked,
but tho dog told where ho was.
By this timo tho doctor had como
up and other members of tho family
came out, eager to see who waB
caught in the man trap.
"Why, it's Bob."
"Who would have thought it?" The
exclamations wero heard in the house
and echoed by the young Indies. Then
tho door of the log house was opened
and tho young man was sent to tho
dormitory. Ho waB called before tho
faculty tho next morning. The poor
fellow would have sold himself tor a
song, and expected to be peremptorily
expelled and perhaps prosecuted.
Meantime the doctor had thousht
the matter over. He was a man of
great sagacity in the management of
boys, and he recognized this frenk as a
piece of wild mischief which might not
be meanness. He resolved to givo the
matter such disposition as would put
a sober head on the young man. Ac
cordingly, when Bob appeared, look
ing like a criminal, tho doctor lectur
ed him severely, but in a fatherly way
and told him that such an o (It nee
must not go without a severe punish
ment. Bob expected the sentence of his ex
pulsion. Witli measured tones, like a
Judge pronouncing the death sen
tence, tho doctor said:
Mr. , I will expect you to take
supper with mo to-night, and, as you
show a fondness for chicken, the fowls
you took off tho roost last night will
be on the table."
Bob would rather have been expell
ed. But for the distress it would
cause his parents he would have gone
home. In spite of his larks thero was
good stuff in Bob, and with a tremend
ous effort ho resolved to lace the mu
sic. It is impossible to describe the men
tal agony Bob went through that
evening when ho sat at the table where
the doctor presided with courtly dig
nity. His elegant wife could not haveheen
more courteous to nn honored guest
than ehe was to Bob, and her daugh
ters treated the young man ae cor
dially as over. Not a word was said
about the affair of the night before,
but the laio dish of chickens was like
a mountain in the poor man's eyes.
It was tho refinement of torture
when tho doctor, with the utmost
suavity, helped him to the
choicest pieces."
The situation, which tinder ordina
ry circumstances would have been lu
dicrous, under the doctor's compos
ure and his wife's tact, was coiried
almost to the pathetic.
It was a lesson written on Bob's
memory in burning letters, and he
never forgot it.
A Very Pathetic Thing.
Two young women in a confidential
mood wero overheard by an unsym
pathetic man as they wero discussing
some of tho topics dear to feminine
analysis. Tho first speaker, who was
evidently from the West, was enlarg
ing upon the theme ot the surplus of
the female population in Massachu
setts, and described tho State as a
barren region fit only for a starting
point of female emigration. Her com
panion f-vemed blightly disturbed at
tho criticism of her State, and when
the Western girl asked in a sweet
manner, "Now, how many chances
have you for marriage?"' replied with
asperity, "I neveo had any and I
haven't any now," The Western
girl's countenance had a most pitying
expression, and sheaaid sympathetic
ally, "Now, that is the nioft pathetic
thing I have heard in New England. "
Boston Journal.
TERRIBLE VENGEANCE.
A Jonloue Husband Has tho Hand
of His Wlfo Cut Off and Sont to
Kor Lovor.
From a London Kxclianjo.
At tho restoration cf Louis Phil
lippe to tho French throno many
of Napoleon's soldiers wore left in
comparative poverty. Ono of them.a
famous general, had a beautiful daUgh
ter whom tie wished to marry rich,
but who tell in lovo with a poor young
man an under secretary oc some
thing of that kind. Sh married, at
her father's request, a rich count, but
refused at the wedding ceremony to
allow tho ring to be placed upon-hor
eft hand, upon which qho wore a ruby
put there by her lover. Her joalous
husband was not long in finding out
what wan tho mattor.and intercepting
a letter in which the ardent young
lover claimod Matilda's hand an his,
ho determined upon an awful rovengo.
One night as the celebrated Burgeon,
Lisfrnnc, was returning from a
professional visit, he was captured by
a party ot men, blindfolded and talc
en to a distant palace, and led
through a labyrinth of passages and
rooms. At last he found himself in a
small chamber furnished with remark
able luxury, and half-lit by an alabas
ter lamp hung from the ceiling.
Tho windows wore hermetically sealed
as well a's tho curtains ot an alcove at
the end of the room.
"Doctor," Bald the man with whom
lie now found himself alone, in an ab
rupt, loud voice, "prenaro for your
work an amputation."
"Whero Is the patient?" asked the
doctor, turning toward tho alcove.
The curtains moved slightly, and he
heard a stilled sigh.
"Prepare, Bir," said tho man, con
vulsively. "But, Blr, I must see tho patient."
"You will Heo only the hand you art
to cut off."
The doctor, folding his arms and
looking firmly at the other said:
"Sir, you brought me hero by force.
If you need my professional assistance
I Bliall do my duty without caring for
or troubling myself about your sec
rets, but if you wish to commit a
crime you cannot force me to be your
accomplice."
"Be content, sir," repliod tho other.
U-hore is no crime in this," and lead
ing him to the alcove he drew from tho
curtain a hand. "It is this you are
to cut off."
Tho doctor took the hand in his;
his fingers trembled at the touch. It
was a lady'8 hand small, beautifully
modeled, and its pure whito set off by
a magnificent ruby encircled with
diamonds.
"But," cried the doctor, "thero io
no need of amputation, there is"
"And I, eirl I say." thundered tuo
other, "if you refuse I will do it my
self," and, seizing a hatchet, ho drew
tho hand toward a small tahlo and
Beemed about to strike. The doctor
arrested his arm. "Do your duty,
then doctor."
"0, but this is an atrocious act,"
said tho surgeon.
"What is that to you? It miiHt ho
done. I wish it; madam wishes it al
so. If necessary Bhe will demand it
herself. Come, madam; request the
doctor to do you this service."
The doctor, nonplussed and almost
tainting under the torture of his feel
ings, heard from the alcove in a half
expiring voice and an inexpressible
accent of despair and resiguation;
"Sir, since you are a Burgeon yes
I entereat you let it be you, and
net oh, yes. you! yon! in mercy!"
"Well, doctor," said the tnan,""you
or I?" -
The resolution of this man was so
frightful, and the prayer of the poor
lady bo full of entreaty and despair,
that tho doctor felt that oven" hu
mnnity commanded ot him compliance
with tho appeal of the victim. Ho
took his instruments with a last im.
ploring look at the unknown, who
onty pointed to the hand, and with a
sinking heart bejan the operation.
For the first time in his experience
Pis hand trembled, but the knife was
doing its work; thero was a cry from
the alcove, and then nil was silent.
Nothing was heard but the horrid
sound of the oneration till the hand
) and the eaw fell together on tho floor.
Lisfranc wore the ruby on his
watch chain, where it was seen by the
young lover on his return to Paiis,
and out of it grew a duel that led, to
a disclosure of the infamous crime.
The morning after the lover't arrival
at the capital he was presented by a
man in livery with an ebony box
Opening it he discovered a bleeding
hand Matilda's and on it a paper
with these words: "See how th
countess of keeps her oath."
DrolriQBo and Fruit Trees.
The best way is to under-drain with
tile laid irom two or three feet deep.
Peep surface drains may carry off
Burlace water, but low-land is" gener
ally kept wet by ground water rising
from below. It tile ate unattainable
stories can be used, laid so as to leave
a throat, the ditch partly filled with
small stones, inverted sods over the
stones, and then with soil. Where,
neither nie accessible, three poles laid
so as to leave a throat will sometimes
answer tor a few years. Fruit trees
should be planted a3 soon as the
ground will do to work in spring. Di-j
holes large enough to receive all the
roots straightened out; cut off the
ends of all broken roots smooth; trim
the tops to correspond with lost roots;
set the tree about the same depth it
stood in the nursery; cover the rootn
with fine, rich soil tree from stones or
clods; when roots are well covered
tread down the soil frmly, till the note
and again tread or stump down.
Daily ought wo to renew our pur
poses, and to atir ourselves up to
greater fervor, and to sav: "Help mo,
my God, in this my good purpose and
in Thy holy service, and grant that
I may now this day bajin perfectly
Thomas a Kempis.
