H * MILCTHE BAYS CO OK.
B "Rose & * * * * , • . wfent Ss I * flr.
m * * * * * * af W Mg a ui3 * } r te > 4ic
H 1 Cms * T& Wfc ,
* m tJH tt 2 # # n.
B
H lwA < * W * { • * . it fat wa * * gf
B 2fcc&fat afee p * fcrwfcMt but *
H Tka * & • * ' su w wis * mfekt thtee mors
HIH
H Tftn * wfe. * Hi jmu ! iaxt * , through fira
B ' I'fc H r AM * 3 * t trauMjrw feat ,
B A tfcu&l&ee wMfe wfcifo Ktr dajw bo oat
B ilw. Browning.
|
I MIS EMEMY.
HB
B * Dfeefcs5 * kal wea * l gone , and
B rrvn&t ; ttkf * a * psea 8r. Marian
B hm3h < Imc Am - -
4M t-awtuy- she
B cimnJHt sigh * tike. Kefce , manfy figure ,
B m fcy b htMWJmonK wkh the
B fin trnkm-
B flbajmj f iiwte , fc guywe Landt it
B "w fcfffif wail fe * fee til * ee Human
B c Uwi 4mi Mlw HaiW < HtI Mt
B a mmmm& rnvmeomm. Tin tame was in
B iusr Wb < dmfct , fi r Iwr lather
B JWi Ink but bm w * i mwhhoj and
B • ! * a * tatr , jumL i © tkw final
B tnwMffc t J * * . Lamtt was due the
B * * 0t fciw nwfcb to porwrfcy that
B lk&4 IbsAmk • Kmdk Ua4oc < 1 , aed left
B fcudMrip 34 mothwriafcd ahHd to a
B 3iut s % • mfck tertese. Marian bad
B & * * jf * fcjiicvrf Uutt s < wrow and dis-
B yp iwtwKiat hoi. tajmmL b r father's
B -atiAigiMt Awifck. Sh c kL not look at
B - & * * TLum&c n JMiAB , nor at anything
B + kaJz tore the h&t d name , without
H 4t csb3l g btttarnadii of spirit.
H &e Jfc * a hom ia har uncle's house ,
B < sd tsua M : the district school
H Sr icy was sorry for Hantord's
3K & &r < Lu * t0r. 3fr. Hanford's preta
H y 4acglser did not seem to be sorry
H f&c hats otL. Site kept her head up and
H x tai fcbe world bravely. Whoa Eu-
H -gwae LjUh& iMUirnad koru. his five
H y &xi " vf94cB abroad he came to
H har fif rt + &tticnfty otw day on some
Hj tr i | t bifajinaoj eonaected with the
B adM t i heWL o t to httr the band
B " oi tuMawolMp. Site eomported herself
B tsmJk Mtck | cMii aad cold dtunity that
B kw teat nit was hu l * * > t. Ncr did he
B u u to bow to ber oa the street
B ngw. M * bod ksoivn her since child-
B JMMHi. iMMi immi b * c playmate and
B J * nftme , titch ; taught himslf now
B to Tfrn a b r by kke a stranger.
B At ck iest dem' ee of her enemy ,
B a-i * ' * babve se.iL. Morion became deep-
B tg oecifijwud ia the readiest meat of her
B -ffrri * robe. Leaping her face careful-
B 1 f i.v rtati treat tbe tall figure that
B -xas * Utdm up and down the plat-
B bf Sb was waitint ; for Jake , the
B atati b&sd. to pock the wagon floor
B * 3 Abiti ker with some boss that had
B Mme lor bee uncle , Heub , by the noon
B < 3qM aA. It w&ti snowins fast and
B fmeiatsdtv ; tbe flokes were whirling
B tf ic 'ui2Jd atticker In wild trusts of
B > mil Itobi tbe northeast. An hour
H e evtea bo one could have foreseen
B aoeb a. t rat , bat here it was in all
B it * splwnrfid strength and fury , blot-
B tiag 4 t tk for landscape , and mak-
B us evea the near distance wavering
sad aadistiact. There was no other
B viabicte &C tbe station besides Marian's
B HztW o ea carriage , ami no other hu-
B < & biag to be seen bet the dehberf
B 3te J&k a d the one other individual
, ou Kono declined to see.
B " -TbcAlc y ® f 3Ir. Stover , very , very
B nufi" Tb soft light voice was
B s afcetsa. silver belL "
B -fa it ail ri ht now ? Everything
B kL * Do yo think , " doubtinuly , "that
B icw Wbeof any use to raise my
B n brtJia ? " She can scarcely see
B Jote's face through the hurrying
B HfLkes.
B "No ma'am , not one bit , " was the
B pco pt reply. "You best jest git
B aluag jBck that's all. This storm
B -ai * t soia' to be no lighter 'fore mornP
B ia * . It'M be heavier a blamed sight
B tuxyot think for. 'Gene Landt , "
B leawi * * fen ward confidentially , "he's
B ia a kx. His folks don't know he
B , -were comia' . No one ain't here to
j jaeebinu He dunno what to do. "
I I " Ob , " said Marian , coldly. She
I I -gave her robe an extra tuck and shook
I I hoc veil out once more before tying it
I across her face ; and then it appeared
i tkat 3fr. Stover had been misled on *
2 -the iafonuatioa he bad just vouch-
1 tsaled. Sir. Landt knew exactly what J'
-to-do. He came across the platform "
S
IS vita bis quick , light step , touched his fa
S iurcap and said gayly :
IK Friend , neighbor , Christian , may I j
| H be % you. to give me a lilt as far as you
B [ are jjoing that is. if it beany where in
I ! | &e direction of New Church ? I am yi
l | ! crafortunate. Ah , " he said , in genuine tl
I I surprise , "it is jliss Hanford , " and h
I [ ben be paused. o
I "Um , why she go all the way to New I
I | Qiurch , " said Jake , obligingly. "She fa
I I go past your door , Mist Gene. You b
| p air in luck. "
* * Yes , " said M arian , in a clear voice fe
hat bad more chill in it than the m
Siting wind itselL "Certainly I pass
your door , Mr. Landt. " hi
1 And then , poor girl , she was conlil
istrained to make room for him and ti
to feel in tbe midst oi her anger and pi
despair that she was sheltered by his p
-strong figure from tbe worst violence sc
I -ol tbe storm , and must be more or pi
I less comforted despite her detestation p
I by hu near presence through the long oi
I .and dreary ride that lay before them , d'
* * Go on now ! you ain't got a second fc
to lose , " said Jake , encouragingly , w
"This is soins to be a blizzard , this is. tl
* NIsat , Miss Hanford ; I'm cood and tl
jdaS. Mist Gene's along o' ye. "
'But tbe friendly remarks of Mr. E
Stover were blown rudely from his u
Hoe and did not reach the ears for Y
Welch they were intended , and in ana
otaer moment Marian and Eugene b
-were speeding away throuab tbe gathA
rwg twilight , meeting the tempest q
3de by side. a
Of course Mr. Landt at once offersi
< -d to take the reins , but was met with ti
| & very prompt and polite refusal ; and u
; ? * * * : back , feeling decidedly snubbed ;
I 3xzt be was amused , and smiled to y
, j Biersotf a good deal , with an expresii
I izloa it was just as well Marian did b
* 2 < jt see. He knew by her upright attib
f i -tn&z and tbetension of her grasp that 1 ]
t , * demanded all her strength to hold
f\ \ toe horse , which was fresh and swift n
j&ud excited , by the storm as well. He v
pitied her presentlv and pleaded again , w
' 'Hr. Landt , " she said severely , "I Ii
-sznasfc drive. The horse is a new one. c
2r s does not know the way , and I t
ohoukl not feel safe unless my own ii
2amd was oa tbe rein. " •
Ha doesn't know the way , "repeat-
I tad Eugene , in an odd tone. "That s I
.
Ffc , Miss Hanford. I am very muck
afraid none of us will know.it , if the
snow continues at this rate. " For ,
indeeil \ } , they scarcely could seo the
horse's back ; the spaco before them
seemed full of black partlcles.and they
were breathing snowflakes instead of
air.
When they had gone perhaps a mile
m silence , Marian drew in one little
still band under the robo an instant ;
then , still smiling covertly , Mr. Landt
quietly grasped the reins away from
her , and she covered both hands ,
gladly enouah. No word accompanied
this proceeding. Marian's eyes were
full ' of angry tears , and Eugene's
were blinking off the crystals that
stung and hurt them. It was growing
so dark now that not even the nearo
est trees on the roadside were visible ,
; 1 really don't know where I am , "
Eugene murmured , peering right and
left with anxious glances. "Do you ,
Miss Hanford ? "
"So far I do. The schoolhouse is
just a little beyond. I could walk
there blindfold , we'll pass it in about
half ) a minute. The road isn't very
good just here. If you could drive
more slowly "
But scarcely had the words struck
the air when the woizon turned over.
Miss Hanford tumbled into a snowI
drift that had already heaped itself
on the roadside , and lay there a mufh
fled , almost indistinguishable heap ,
and Mr. Landt half fell , half sprang
beyond her , but wa3 on his feet in-
stantly again. The horse was also on
his feet and going into the distance at
a fine gallop , the sound of which was
soon lost on the sweep of the angry
wind.
"Ah , are you hurt ? Are you hurt ? "
, He had gathered MissHanford up in
bis arms.andwas holding her as easily
as if she had been a child. "I don't
know , " said Marian , struggling
promptly to regain her footing on the
earthbut ; the instant she accomplish *
ed this a sharp cry of pain escaped
her ,
"My footshe said , faintly ,
"Something is the matter with my
foot. "
"A sprain perhaps , " Eugene said ,
compassionately. "Just try to walk
a step or two. "
She did trythen caught at Euseno'a
arm with both her hands.
"I can't , " she said quietly. "The
pain is terrible. "
"Then , good heavens , what are we
to do ? I could carry you easily but
to keep my feet in this wind. "
"You can carry me to the schoolfc
bouse . , if you will. I have the key
here. I am sorry , Mr. Landt , to give
you this trouble "
"The very thing , " he said promptly.
"Lucky it's so near. Just put your
arm round my neck , please. That's
richt. "
He took her up lightly , and began
to ( plod his way , with bent head ,
against the storm.
"You will have to guide me , Miss
.
"
Hanford , if you can. "
_ , "Go on straight a little way a few
steps further. Now , turn off the road
_ the footpath is here. Now you are
all right. You'll feel the fence in a
minute. "
- "I feel it now , " said Eugene , bumpo
ing himselt against it ; "and here's the
gate. Actually 'we are in luck , ' .as
Mr. Stover says. "
Another minute's careful plodding
brought them to the door , which Eu
gene ' unlocked. Within was Cimmerian
darkness , but the change to a warm ,
dry atmosphere was a delightful sen-
sation. ! Mr. Landt groped his way to
a seat , deposited Miss Hanford theren
on . , and under her direction lit the
little j * lamp above the desk and
kindled f : a cheerful wood fire in
the ' big drum stove. Then he removed
her snow-powdered wraps and his
own overcoat , shook them vigorously
and hung them in friendly companion-
ship ' near the warmth to dry.
"Now , we must see a little to the
poor foot , Miss Hanford , " he said , gosl
: ng down on hi3 knees before her.
"Let me remove your boot. Don't
be afraid ; I won't hurt you. "
But despite his light , careful touches
Marian winced with pain. The re
moval of the stocking was accomplish-
ed with an air of almost professional
gravity , and then Eugene , having sathi
isfied himself that no bones were
broken , benan to bind up the sprain ,
For this purpose he tore in strips his
own linen handkerchief , wetted it
with snow and swathed the slender
ancle and instep tightly. Then he
said cheerfully : b
"Now we are ahead of the swelling , tl
any way , and I'll make you as compi
fortable as I can. Let me lift you into ai
this ' armchair. Then you can lean
back so. " He caught a stool and
placed ' it under her feet , and stood qi
looking kindly on her pale , unsmiling y
face.
face."It's
"It's too bad , of course , " he said W
gently , "but accidents will happen.
We must make the best of it. "
"Of course , " said Marian. "Thank m
you. " She looked anywhere but at ai
the bright and reassuring face above v
her. < "I am veryvery sorry this has "
occurred. < If only I had kept the reins ? gl
might have known. I did know , in
fact. But no matter. It can't be cl
helped < now. " b
At this overflow of base and truly bf
feminine ingratitude Mr. Landt merely w
raised his eyebrows and walked over ec
tc a distant bench , whereon he settled
himself in an attitude of repose. The w
little clock between the windows ed
ticked sociably , and the pleasant ai
purring of the fire suggested cosy com-
panionship : ; but these * two very hand
some young people , whom fate had cc
paired off in this novel and unexli
pected < fashion , listened to the roaring m
of the storm gusts , the rattling of the aj
doors ' and windows , in cold and
formal silence. Now and then a word tl
was uttered and answered relative to ni
the flight of time or the condition of ir
the fire , and again silence brooded. tl
Mr. Landt grew restless presently , t
He stirred about the room , picking c
up a school book here and there. A
Yawning undisguisedly over an old e
almanac he discovered and altogether
betrayed the utmost weariness of soul. Y
As for Mis3 Hanford , she still sat
quite motionless and very pale , with * >
an expresion of pride and subdued re * si
sentment on her clear-cut features
that Eugene could not fail to see and si
understand.
"Your people will be alarmed about gj
you , won't they , Miss Hanford ? " he b
inquired at length , standing with his a
back to tbe fire and looking very
bored and very handsome ; "especial-
ly ii the wagon goes home empty. "
"I think"the horse will take the n
road to bis old home at Meadows-
ville , " she said composedly. "He w
would hardly know the way to Uncle
Beub's. My people will simply con * h
elude that I was afraid to drive in a
this storm and that I have staid over
in the village. " ci
"Well , really , I don't see that there p
any hope of better weather. I think ' ft
ought to start along and try to get q
to New Church and send some one to
bring you home. "
"Walk to New Church ! " sho asked
in astonishment. "You never could
in such a tempest. "
"I could try. "
"But there's no need. Wo are comI
fortable enough for the present. Tho
wind must abate before long ; and at
any rate , " sho went on with firmness ,
"I couldn't stay hero alone , Mr.
Landt. I could not allow you to
leavo me helpless in this deserted
place. "
"But , my dear Miss Hanford , the
storm ' may last till morning , and cer *
tainly we couldn't I couldn't "
He Btopped , embarrassed. She was
looking 1 at him with such grave , un *
conscious eyes that hecould not bring
himself to hint at the impropriety of
their remaining together , as viewed
by the outside world , even for the
length of time that had already
passed.
"If you will not let me leave you , "
he said , catching at a thought , "how
can ; I possibly procure assistance ?
You can't walk and you don't want
to < stay hero all night. "
"But tho weather may change. "
"That's the merest chance. Miss
Hanford. Wo can't depend on that ,
I think I had bettor mako a start. If
I am blown into the canal , " he added
lightly , "or perish otherwise"
"But I have told you I will not bo
left here alone , " she interrupted quick
ly and indignantly. "It is your fault ,
sir , in the first place , that this acci
dent has happened. If you had alp
lowed 1 me to keep the reins wo would
probably bo safe at home by this
time ; instead of which "
She threw out her bauds with a gesIn
ture that finished the sentence eloa
quently enough.
Eugene bit his lip. He blushed an
grily , but spoke with calmness.
"May I ask your reason for not
wishing to stay alone ? " ho asked
ironically , "that is , if there can be anyhi
thing like reason connected with such
a whim. "
"I have told you that I am utterly
powerless , and I am afraid. "
"Of ghost3or perhaps mice ! Which
is it ? "
Miss Hanford did not answer. She ,
too < , bit her lip , but it was to check
back her quickly rising tears.
"I am sorry you are so unreasonti
able , " he said quietly , "so childishly
absurd. It places us both in a very
ridiculous position. "
"And I am sorry you are so ungenir
fclemanly ] , "she flashed out at him ; "so
rude , so unbearably impertinent but
I could expect no better ! Nothing
good < could come from any one who
bears your namel"
She ended in a passion of tears.
Mr. Landt continued to look down
at her with a sort of startled , shockoi
ed < expression. It was as if her deliit
cate hand had struck him in the face
and ho was powerless to return the
blow. He drew a deep breath and
walked away , after a moment , and
sat down as far from her as possible ,
his face averted , bis head leaning on
his hand.
Marian continued to sob convul31
sively. All the wrongs and sorrows
of her father's life came surging back
to < her , an overwhelming tide ; tho
flood-gates of her heart seemed burst
ing asunder before the pent-up bitri
terness of years. She was struggling •
with all her might to regain calmness
but the very effort seemed to increase
the violence of her emotion. As for
Eugene strong , hurt , wretched as
he was he only longed , with a strong
man's : compassion , to sooth and
comfort < his frank little enemy who
had so bitterly spoken her mind.
* * * * * * *
Eugene awoke with a shiver ; the
lamp had burned out , the fire was
almost dead , and what was this ?
Beyond the window panes clear moony
light and a cloudless sky ! Miss HanP
ford was still asleep in her chair , as
she had been for some time before
Eugene himself succumbed. The
wind had gone down , and now there
was nothing to prevent him taking
the road to New Church except
He lit a match and looked at his
watch. It was 2 o'clock a. m. He
walked to the window and stared out
hopelessly. Of what avail was the
calm brightness of earth and sky ? lb I
had come too late. What now could n
turn aside this disgrace that had faly
len on an innocent young life , and for
which be perhaps had been to blame ?
There was only one thing that could
be ( done. As he opened the door a lit
tle way and looked into the nicht a
piercing wind swept by him , and the
sleeper on the chair stirred aud waky
ened.
"Who is that ? " was demanded
quickly. "Oh , oh ! Mr. Landt , is it
you < ? Where is thelight ? "
"It has burned out , Miss Hanford. E
We were both asleep. "
"Oh ! " she repeated , but now in a
tone of relief. "And there isn't any
more oil. " She seemed to haveslept st
away her anger and resentment. Her re
voice < sounded sweet and friendly. Ia
"But ] the storm is over. I am so ki
glad ! " ju
"Glad ? " Eugene said nothing. He cc
closed the door and came and kneeled m
by ] the fire , blowiua the half-dead emai
bers into a flame , and laying on more b
wood until the room was partly lightol
ed by the pleasant glow. ai
" 1 think it would be a good idea to ec
watch from the window. " she suggestoi
cheerfully after a while. "Teams tl
are sure to pass , now. How late is it p
ten o'clock , eleven o'clock ? " ri
But when Eugene informed her , in a H
constrained voice , she merely said , h
lightly : "Well , it won't be long till li
morning , especially if we go to sleep di
again. " re
It is perhaps needless to mention le
there was no more sleep that si
night for Mr. Landt. When mornT
ing dawned he was sitting looking pi
thoughtfully at Miss Hanford's pretcc
ty , dark head.which rested rather untl
comfortably < on the desk beside her. la
As the day grew really bright he rousai
ed her gently.
"I am gohm now to bring a wagon , ai
You will not mind being left alone ? "
She lifted her bewildered face : then ai
s : full consciousness came back , she
smiled and nodded. a
"Yes , you can go now. Oh , how w
strange we have been here all night ! " o"
Eugene turned away quickly and be
gan to put on his coat. Then he came hi
back and stood beside her , strangely ed
agitated.
"I am going to Dixon for a carhi
riase , " he said hurriedly , "and Miss gc
Hanford , I will bring a minister with
me and a witness. It is impossible cl
for us to return to New Church until cl
we are married. " ir
"What ? " said Marian.almost starth
ing from her chair. "Married ? You si
and I ? " • b
"It must be so , " he answered detl
dsively. "I will never force my comh
panionship on you ; you will be pero
fectly free. Listen to me" he spoke
quite sternly "the only way by which h
, " * Sf3 * , - '
you can save your reputation or re
gain i your place before tho world is to
lot me make you my wife. "
"I won't do any such thing , " she
answered : instantly. "I am surprised
pou < should think for a moment that
I could. "
"But I ask it for your sake , " he said
pointedly. "An adventure of this sort
may bo overlooked in a man , but in a
"
woman
"An adventure , " repeated Mariant
her frank , brown eyes full of
astonishment. "But could we pos-
3ibly help it ? Did we want to stay
here ? Who in the world could blame
us ; for a matter entirely beyond our
power to control ? "
Eugene looked at her fixedly for a
Jong moment. "It was in your power ,
Miss Hanford , " he reioined quietly ,
"You would not allow mo to leave
you. * * * I am going to Dixon , "
ho repeated with addedfirmness , "to
find : a minister. In the mean time ,
try to use your reason if that be
possible , " he could uot refrain from
this slight thrust. "And be assured
of one thing , that it will not be my
fault if your good name is sacrificed
through an accident for which you
tell me I was to blame m the first
place. " _
He turned on his heels and left her
helplessly watching hu retreating
figure.
* * * * * * *
"Good morning , Uncle Beuben ; can
I see Mrs. Landt ? "
"Marian , " shouted Uncle Reub ,
putting his head in at the doorway ;
"come down , will you ? Mr. Lan
your husband's here. "
He bestowed a wink on Eugene as
he substituted the word. "Herfoot's
all right again. She's goin' up to
school to-morrow , I believe. "
He nodded and passed along the
veranda to the farmyard gate.
In a moment Marian came. She
was blushing and breathing fast , and
her brown eyes were lowered. They
barely , touched each other's hands.
"I heard you were about to take
up school again , " he said gravely ,
"Is it true ? "
"But I must , " she answeied in a
3ubdued voice , still not daring to
look at him. "My term will not
end "
"Marian ! " He caught her gently ,
turned her in his strong arm , and
walked her into the little dark parlor ,
where the horse-hair sofa and mildew
were. "Let us talk together a
moment as friends , at least. You
are ] my wife. " She winced at the
word , and Eugene withdrew his arm
proudly. "But you are a free woman ,
too. Only I beg you uot to pain me
by ; persisting in this. I have settled
on you an ample income money that
would have been yours by right , dear ,
only for the legal injustice that made
it mine. I have arranged to go away ,
But I will go away a very wretched
man unless lean think of you cared tor
and happy. Promise me that you will
not < teach any more ; that you will
accept < your rights as my wife , a3 the
woman I love. "
"Don't dare to say you love me. "
She stepped back from him , looking
very pale , but very piteous , too.
• You are sorry for me ; and you •
hink"s
"I am not sorry for you , " he interm
rupted , firmly. "Indeed , no. Who
jould be sorry for one so proud
and cold ? But I am sorry for my-
self , " he added , slowly , "because in
ipite of all your faults , I love you
dearly. < "
And then Marian came slowly near , .
and shyly took hold of Eugene's coat
button and examined it closely as
she spoke.
"If you love me , " she said softly "
"you : took a long time to tell me so. "
"Marian ! "
"You did. This is the first time
you ever hinted such a thing was
" d
possible. <
"Dearest but vou must have
"
known ! "
"Only tell me by what means. I J
might as will say that you must *
have known. " h
"Oh , Marian. "
"Well , " she said , but she laid her ?
cheek against his arm to say it , "I in
didn't love you the least bit not at .
all , until very , very lately. It sepms
am only just beginning to know you ni
now. < And then well , I oh , Eugene , w
" a
you < are good !
To this little outburst of coherent in
eloquence Mr. .Landt merely said. 8G
" . " w
"My precious girl.
Presently she held up her obstinate j31
little head again. H
"But I never would have married
you < that morning never never only S .
the minister only dear old Mr. Earl m
persuaded me. You never could
have managed it for yourself. w
"I'd have managed it later , though , " 10
Eugene answered , laughing.
Fear Conquered By Instinct. JjJ
An amusing illustration of the f0
strength or involuntary impulse was p
recently afforded by the visit of burg
lars to the home of a certain wellai
known official of this city , who lives dc
just outside the district limits , in the nj
country. About three o'clock in the rl
morning he and his wife were suddenly Ql
aroused by the appearance in their pj
bedroom of three masked men. Two w
ol them stood at the head of the bed jn
and , with revolvers cocked and point
ed at the temples of the bed-fellows , ni
ordered them to lie still and save tc
their lives by so doing. They comv
plied ] with the request while the third cl
ruffian began to explore the room. m
His bull's-eye lantern being awkward ,
he < took a candle from the bureau and m
lighting it began to ransack closets , sl
drawers , boxes and bureaus in the in
room. While so engaged he carelessly hi
let the parafiine taper drop in swift sl
succession hot drops all over the floor. V
The housewife , though bound to the fa
pillow by the muzzle of a revolver ,
could not restrain her impulses despite
the threat ol the
blood-curdling burg
lar at her side. She half-rose in bed
and cried out : IU
"Shame on you ; don't you see you .
are spoiiiug my carpet ? "
An unintelligible grunt was the only m
answer. ed
"Now , look here , you villain , " a
again ? cried out the housewife , "I p
want you to stop spilling grease all ci
over my carpet. " ti
The startled thief who could not tl
have heard her first command , turnis
around and met her blazing eyes , pi
"Yes , m'm , I will do it , see'n' as ai
bow we can't take it with us , " he hi
gently remarked. pi
The scoundrels at the bedside only m
chuckled. At that moment an alarm 0
clock set up its call for an eurly-ris-
ing servant up stairs. The thieves bi
became suspicious at once. They T
snuffed out the candle and threw a tl
big : bag containing their plunder over h
their shoulders , closed the door bec
hind them , and stole down the stairs , s <
out of the front gate and decamped , w
And then it was that the good ir
housewife fainted. d
1 , " • stc
*
> - - < * - -
. ,
MP-J MM
Stories of Cobras.
From Longman's Magazine.
Dr. Richards came ono day to see a
lady patient at my house. Ho arrived
ir a palanquin , which was put down
ir the portico. Ho wont to the lady's
room < and paid her a brief visit ; and
when he came out of tho room ho went
to < tho palanquin and brought out a
largo \ cobra which ho had brought
over to show me , in order to provo
by experiments in my presence that a
particular kind of wood , which a na
tive faker declared to be an antidoto
.
to snake-poison , was of no value. It is
unnecessary to recapitulate the ex-
periments , but his familiarity with
the deadly snake was quite alarming ,
j . could not help wondering what his
lady patient would have said if she
had known that he had brought a
snake with him to tho house , for she
was terribly nervoii3 about snakes.
Tho snake house in tho Zoological
gardens in tho Kegent's park is a
most perfectly designed building for
keeping tho snakes in health tor exo
hibiting them to the public. The late
King of Oude had built a snakary
iE the gardens of his pal-
ace at Garden Reach , near Calcutta.
It | was an oblong pit about thirty feet
long by twenty feet broad , the walls
being about twelve feet high , and per-
fectly smooth , so that a snako could
not < climb up. In the center of the
pit ; there was a largo block of rough
masonry , porferated so that it was
as ; full of holes as a sponge. In this
honeycombed block the snakes dwelt ;
and : when the sun shone brightly
they came out to bask or to feed. His
majesty used to have live frogs put
into tho pit , and amused himself by
seeing the hungry snakes catch the
frogs. When a large snake catches a
small frog , it is all over in an instant ,
but if a smallish snake catches a larg-
ish frog , so that he cannot swallow it
at once , the frogs cries are piteous to
hear. Again and again I have heard
them while out shooting , and have
gone to tho bush or tult of grasd from
which the piercing cries came somew
times too late to save poor froggy ,
though the snake generally got shot.
As a final story let mo tell how a frog
has been seen to turn the tables on
the snake. Two gentlemen in Cachar
some years ago saw a small snake
seize a small frog and attempt to
swallow it. But suddenly a large frog
jumped forward , seized the snake's
tail and began to swallow tho snake.
How the affair might have ended can-
not be told , because my friends imf'
prudently drew near to watch the
combat , when the frogs and the snake
took alarm , and the big frog disgorga
ed the snake's tail , and the snake re-
leased the little frog , and they all
scuttled off.
„ - , . „ ,
Glanders.
This disease , known also as farcye
prevails among horses , asses and
mules. It is highly contagions. It
ia characterized by a swelling and
suppuration of tha glands , inflamr
mation , tending to suppuration of
the mucou3 membrane of the nose and
respiratory organs , pains in the joints ,
and great prostration.
There is no evidence that it ever
. . . . . . .
originates m man ; it seems , in every
human case , to have been comniunial
cated from a diseased animal.
It is believed that it is never comn
municated by diseased emanations
diffused in air. This in part accounts
for the fact that it is comparatively
rare among men , while it is frequen
among horses , and has a strong tentl
dencyto spread. Horses are very
sociable among themselves , and as
the morbid discharges from the nos
trils and lungs are profuse , they are
thus easily inoculated. It is plain
however < i , that man is not as suscep ,
tible to the disease as are animals-
but while it is rare among human be-
ings , it is exceedingly fatal.
In most cases , the affected person
has taken it by inoculation ; infected y
matter has come in contact with a
wound < , a scratch , a chafed surface , or
chapped hand. The poison lies Q
inert from three to eight days , and -
sometimes for several weeks. Thec
wound < may even have wholly healed ;
but the spot at length becomes in- °
tensely inflamed , and later ulcerates.
The neighboring lymphatic vessels
swell | , and become hard and cord
like.
, The glands also enlarge , and the
whole part becomes swollen , then fol-
low , generally , abscesses and ulcerating
cavities. The mucous membrane of
the nose sooner or later inflames and
ulcerates , as does aho that of the -
mouth , larynx , lungs and eyes. Then
follow a severe cough and profuse ex-
pectoration. "
In the early stages of the disease'
and also when the disease is of a mil- "
der type , it is dflicult to determine its J
nature. It may be confounded with
rheumatism , typhoid fever , or some
other form of blood poisoning. The
patient's relation to a horse affected
with the disease isan invportant fact a'
the determination.
We have said that the mortality in J\
man is very great. Yet if the symp
toms develop slowly , and are less se-
vere < , and the disease assumes a •
chronic form , one-haif of the patients ai
may recover. a
Of course , the attending physician
must determine the treatment , which
should be of a supporting , stimulat- °
ing and soothing character. All who °
have anything to do with the patient n'
should : wear rubber gloves , and be
very careful of any scratch on the "
faCe'e e\
Holding to Old Usages. m
It seems somewhat strange that the °
usages oi a semi-barbarous people , as w
the English people were when the coms
mon law was evolved , are all abandon-
except those that pertain to the j *
administration < of justice. An English kl
paper ; , in calling attention to the cir- it
cumstance that judges in that coun- fl
try still wear wigs in trying case ? , says w
that it furnishes evidence that there "
less progress in law than in any er
pursuit to which men of intelligence aJ
and learning devote themselves. A S1
hundred years ago the member3 of all
professions wore wigs , but they are • "
never seen now outside a court room. F
Our judges do not wear wigs , but they D
hold fast to practices that heve long Cl
been abandoned in Great Britain. P
Trials here are much longer than rc
there , and. many more appeals to a
higher : courts are taken. English
courts < , it is said , are now n&Z only tl
self-sustaining , but sources of revenue ,
while the maintenance oi our courts l
imposes a heavy burden on the peo- "
Die. Chicago Times. as
- uAUMMaMaMMaMMMMaaMMiMaaMta <
He Didn't Catch On ,
There are many things in this
world that look comparatively oaay ,
but which a trial demonstrates call
forth ( a man's most serious effort. Wo
havealways j , labored under tho im-
pression that a sixty pound pig could
.
be grabbed by tho hind leg and carti
ried ofl with comparative caso by a
man of ordinary size. This crude idea ,
however j , , has loosened its grip on us
during tho last few days.
Recently wo ambled up to a
pig like a member of tho Manhattan
Ball club getting on deck for a strike ,
and reached for his hind leg. Just
then ho had to take a stop wo had not
expected him to make , and tho leg
was not there any more. Several
more reaches were made , but all fell
short , and what was tho most sur
prising part of it , the pig , which was
so absorbed in its rooting that he
never looked up , always happened to
move jusc at theright time to be missed.
While regarding it asacoincidenco ( for
the animal did not even know we wero
there , we stole up so quietly ) , it was
one of those annoying coincidences •
that it is not easy to account for. It we
were writing a treatise on coincidence
we should give this a prominent place.ai
Presently we got tho animal in a corni
nor , and , in order to be sure , fell
down on it bodily. Again ono of those
infernal chance movements took
place. The pig took two steps to
gather a potato , and we fell flat on
the place where the pig had just been.
Then he looked round for the first
time , and , perceiving us lying there ,
grunted his astonishment and trot'a
ted ' away. He was so astonished at
seeing a man lying there on his
stomach , spitting gravel out of his
mouth , that he went off and stuck his
head in a barrel to give his brain a
rest. (
Then we slid up quietly and by a
finely calculated cryptogramus move-
mont ; snatched him by the hind leg.
This was probably what caused tho
barrel to rise up suddenly and hit 113
on the nose. The wrestling match
seemed ( to begin at this point. First
we got a collar and elbow hold on the
barrel and stood it on its head. Then
the * pig got a grape vine lock and
threw ! us over tho barrel. Then
we got a Cornish grip on the _ animal
and threw him , and were in turn
clowned by tho barrel. Then we got a
half Nelson , Grseco-Roman lock on
tho ' pig's neck , but it got out with a
half turn and somersault and grab"j1
bed us by the seat oi the trousers.
Claim of foul disallowed by female
referee ' on tho front steps , on grounds
that the pig's tail had also been grabSI
bed in tho turn. Then the pig , with
a new style of wrestling , hereto-
fore unknown to us.turned us .isomersu
sault. If a pig blind-folded by
a barrel could play this sort of
games ' , it occurred to us that there
g'w no telling what he might not do
with his head loose. This idea , and the
feeling that he might put his head out
of the barrel , or the barrel head out ,
or get us out of our head , had a most
demoralizing , effect. Suddenly , by a
coup < de main act , we stood the barI0
rel on end , with the pig's hindquarters
in the air , and thought we had the
match won ; but the animal wiggled
down in the barrel , and as we lowerof
ed it on its side to prevent his weight
annoying him any further , he made '
an extraordinary movement. He
smashed out the barrel head , and , as "
we had him by the leg , dragged us
after hirn into the barrel. When we *
let go. to prevent the nails in the barwl
rel from tearing our new clothes , we -
found ourselves in the barrel and the
pig in a field about half a mile from
the house.
A woman , who had been sitting on a
the steps to act as a referee , gave the
match to the pig. Carson ( Nev. ) ApSe
peal.
er
Double Consciousness.
From the London Queen. * *
What is that strange sense that of
most of us haveof a double conscious- { ]
ness ( of a kind of twin self-like and or
yet < uulike the person as we are held er
by the world and known to be by
ourselves of a foregone experience
identical with this we are now under
going of previous circumstances , of
which tis is only a repetition ? Few
or us are so unconscious , so unobser- .
vant , as not to have known both these
vj
phases ' of feeling both that which -
redoubles and differentiates the self , . .
and that which makes this place , this
person , thi3 conversation but a repe-
tition of what has already been. Per
haps the former of these two states Jiu
may be referred to the infinite com- -
t-
plexity ' of the human mind , but with
this complexity that elemental be
homogeneity ' which makes all the -
world akin , and which Terence crys-
talized in his famous aphorism : j |
"Homo sum : humani nihil a me alien- ,
to
umputo. " This being true , then every .
Jekyll ( has his potential Hyde , and -
every Hyde his possible Jekyll ; and
there are no heights nor depths to
which we may not rise or descend , at jl
jQ j
least in imagination. Here conscience
and ' imagination principle and po- an
tentiality make that confusion
which creates a double consciousness get
\ the
n
through a single line of action. Say
Qn
wa have to deal with a man whom
we have no right to offend overtly , my
and whom secretly we despise with m aj
very vehemence of contempt.
What a strong strain of double con- .
sciousness is here ! Our manners , -
our speech , must of necessity be out
QU
smooth and without offeyse. In our
heart ' we re conscious of a scorn an
to
that loathes and repudiates the -
is
creatures of mean vices and well-
veiled infamy , from whom , how-
ever , it is not our business
to tear the mask. We are two
people when in his an
we are company -
' give
one ] the moralist , who shakes a spirit-
ual fist at the other , the man of the
world ; while the man of the world less
shrugs \ his shoulders at the moralist , him
and says in unheard tones : "Don't
and
make ! a fool of yourself. " Again this
m
kind of double consciousness comes .
into ] play when we are in a difficulty
from [ which a little unworthy chicaney you
would extricate us , and where perfect and
honesty will only draw the coils tight- an
* and deepen the hole where we were
Q
already fallen. The two egos talk in-
are
side one head , and argue the case with
more or less distinctness. Jekyll or
Hvde ? which shall it be ? Being hu-
man , with that nihil alienum as the
basis ; of our being , we are organically
capable of any rascality to be comon
passed ; by the universal man. We to
repudiate while we picture but the we
ability to picture proves the ability So
to ' practice but for that other self he
that restraining self , born of the conan
sciousness of higher things. Still , th
there ] it is ; and the double moment ch
goes ( on , though it may be so faintly te
not to constitute a real temptali
- -
|
ni
: =
r . H
tlon. It may only bo a consciousness g |
of possible oscapo if wo would brine B
ourselves to Jraud and dishonesty |
without tho confessed query : " 8hall 1 *
I do it ? " When , indeed , it comes into j |
such distinctness and vitality as that f | ,
. when Hyde is as solid as Jokyll ,
then wo havo a tougher timo of it * 'f ,
and a harder battle , and tho spiritual * , J
tusslois stifler than wo would per- _ |
hap3 caro to acknowledge. How M
many of us go through theso tompta.j jjy' '
tions is known to each man's own *
soul ( only. "What's done wo partly ' - *
may : compute , but not * what is resist- i ,
ed , " and tho double consciousness § T
which is made by principle and pas * ' IB ,
sion ; , restraint and desire , is never j
revealed to others and scarcely con * M j
fessod to ourselves. But wo all havo IS J
it , oven thoso who conquer tho ovil > gg /
tendency with most apparent facility ; ?
and ] most thoroughness. f
Gentlemen.
What do wo mean to-day by that \ \
common phrase , a gentleman ? By 1
tho lights of history , from gens , gen-
tilis , it should mean a man of family ,
"ono of a kent house , " ono of a
notablo decent , thus embodying an
ancient stupid belief and implying a
modern scientific theory. The ancient j
and stupid belief camo to the ground , j
with a prodigious dust and the col- '
lapse of several polities , in tho latter
half of tho last century. Thero fol- j
lowed J upon this an interregnum , dur
ing which it was believed that all men
were born "free and equal , " and that
it really did not matter who your
father was. Man has always been
nobly < irrational , bandaging his eyes
against the facts of life , feeding him
self on tho wind of ambitious false
hood < , counting his stock to be the
children of tho gods ; and yet perhaps
he j ! ( never showed in a more touching
light than when ho embraced this boy
ish theory. Freedom wo now know
for a thing incompatible with corpo- j
rate life and a blessing probably pe- \
culiar to the solitary robber ; we know ,
besides that every advance in rich
ness of existance , whether moral or
material , is paid for by a loss of lib
erty ; that liberty is man's coin in
which he pays his way ; tho luxury ,
and knowledge and virtue , and lovo
and tho family affections , are all so
many fresh fetters on tho naked and
solitary freeman. And tho ancient
stupid belief , having como to the
ground , and the dust of its fall sub
sided , behold the modern scientific
theory ; begining to rise very nearly
01 the old foundation ; and individuals
no longer ( as was fondly imagined ) 1
springing into life from God knows 1
where , incalculable , untrammeled , ab- i
stract , equal to ono another but is
suing modestly from a race ; with vir
tues ] and vices , fortitudes and frailties ,
ready made ; the slaves of their inher
itance of blood ; eternally unequal.
So that we in the present , and yet
more our scientific descendants jn the
future , must use , when wo desire to
praise a character , the old expression , /
gentleman , in nearly tho old sense 1
one of a happy strain of blood , one
fortunate in descent from brave and ?
self-respecting ancestors , whether l
clowns or counts. And yet plainly |
this is of but little help. The intricacy J
of descent defies prediction , so that
even the heir of a hundred sovereigns j
may be born a brute or a vulgarian. j
We may be told that a picture ia an
heirloom < ; that does not tell us what t
the picture represents. All qualities j
are inherited , and all characters ; but 9
which are the qualities that belong to |
the gentleman ? What is tho charac
ter that earns and deserves that hon- I j
orable style ? And yet for all this am- ]
bigaity , for all these imperfect ex- I *
amples , we know clearly what we
mean by the word. When we meet a j
gentleman of another cla s , though . i
alf contrariety of habits , theessentials
of the matter stand confessed : I nev- j' |
had a doubt of Jones. More than i
that , we recognize tho type in books ; .
the actors of history , the characters '
fiction bear the mark upon their
brow ; at a word , by a bare act , we
discern j , and segregate the mass , this I
one a gentlpman , the other not. Rob- • j
ert Louis Stephenson. j
The School of Patience. > .
My dear boy , if a man can only J
cultivate patience and strength , it 1
seems to me he will be a good neigh- |
bor , a pleasant man to do business ' ,
with , a safe man to trust , and the j *
kind of a man the world loves , even i
though he lack wisdom , and hath no (
genius , and can't tell a good story or ( _
sing a note. '
How much does fretful , restless , , .
hurrying old world owe to the pa- '
tient man , who finds his strength "in j
quietness and confidence , " who can I
e patient with our faults , our fan- j :
cies , our wickedness ; who can be I
quiet when the softest word would ' .
have a sting ; who can wait for storms j
blow over .and for wrongs to right J
themselves . ; who can patiently and j
silently endure a slight until he has j
forgotten it and who can even be j
patient with himself ? That's the iel- '
low , my boy , who tries my patience \
and strength more than any man else j
with whom I have to deal. I could
) along with the rest of \
world well enough if he wero ,
only out of it. . can meet all |
- other cares and enemies bravely i
and cheerfully enough. But when y
myself comes to me , with his heart- j
aches : and blunders and stumblings. j
with his own follies and troubles and i
sins , somehow he takes all the ruck \ j
of me. My strength is weakness '
and my patience is folly when f come • !
deal with him. He tires me. He
such a fool. He makes the same i
stupid blunders in the same stupid
way so many times. Sometimes
when I think I must put up with him j
and his ways all my life , I want to j
up. And then the next time he .
comes to me with his cares and the ]
same ' old troubles , he seems so help- I
and penitent that I feel sorry for 4-
} , and try to be patient with him , )
promise to help him all I can once ?
more. Ah , my dear boy , as you grow i
older , that is the fellow who will try J
and torment you , and draw on *
yoursympathy , and tax your patience - .
strength. Be patient with him , ] *
poor old fellow , because I think he ' *
does love you , and yet , as a rul e you ] |
( harder on him than any o ue else k j |
Burdette. * *
- I
.
Not as Bad as Expected. |
Thomas Starr King used totell that , i
of his kinsmen was much opposed < * jt-
his entering the lecture field , and J
were inclined to belittle his abilities. I
one night Dr. King invited him to > t
hear one of his brilliant discourses , | |
at the close asked him what he j |
thought of it. ' 'Waal , " was the II
cheering reply , "You warn't half as jl
teui3 ] as I thought you'd be. " Boston j ?
Transcript. K
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