Remington saw his friend to the outer room and then returned to the easel, before which lie stood for sever al minutes In deep silence. But there was ail added brightness in his eye, and a warmer glow upon his cheek, and when, a little later, lie com menced bumming an old Italian bal lad it was evident that the heart of the artist was . more at ease than it was prior to the Colonel’s visit. Colonel Bland was a Baltimorean who resided three parts of the year in Europe. lie was very wealthy and a widower without children. When Claude went abroad to study, the Col onel was one of the first Americans whom he met in Paris. Their ac quaintance ripened into a warm friendship and the elder gentleman took a lively interest in young Rem ington’s successes. A lover of art, though not himself an artist, he be came an enthusiast in Claude’s work, and accompanied him on many a ram bling tour in search of the beautiful and picturesque hits of scenery that abound in France, Italy and Switzer land. For a year and a half they were constantly together and when Claude met his fate in Constance Blythe the Colonel was his young friend’s confid ant and did tiis best to bring about a match. But the pride of M rs. Blythe, who came from an old Bostonian fam ily, proved an insurmountable harrier to-a union, and the Colonel was bit ter ly disappointed himself at the failure of his friend. He counseled Claude to stay, in fact, and disregard Mrs. Blythe’s orders, inasmuch as Constance was nearly of age, hut in this case the younger man had the most sensible view of affairs, and wisely decided not to remain near the girl who, he knew, loved him as fervently as lie did her. This difference of opinion as to wliat lie ought to do led to some words be tween the two friends and Claude, who was of an impetuous nature, left Men tone abruptly and without bidding anyone goodbye. And uow liis friend had followed him across the Atlantic for the ex press purpose of taking him back to his lady-love and never was a messen ger more happy in the fulfilment Of his mission. But still the thought of Constance's poor condition of health worried the Colonel considerably, though lie strove to conceal liis fears from Claude. On Good Friday evening the Ameri can liner “Paris” glided slowly into tier dock at .Southampton and two of the first passengers to walk down tlie gang plank were Colonel Bland and Claude Remington. They took the night express for London at once and the next morning started for Paris via Dover. Scarcely resting in the French capi tal long enough to take a meal; they took train for the southeast and towards noon on Easter Sunday were near their journey's end. Loverlike, Claude’s spirits rose as he gradually approached the place where Constance was. Everything was familiar to liiin in Nice. The very hackmen recog nized him and touched their hats re spectfully. Many a pour Loire had they received from the young artist during his long sojourn in the fasliionable re sort On arrival at the Hotel Royale the Colonel and his companion went straight to their rooms, which had been engaged by telegraph. Colonel Bland then sent a messenger to Mrs. Blythe with a note to the effect that Remington was with him and awaited the pleasure of an interview. A reply was not long in coming and the bearer of it was Sir William Jowitt the phy sician in attendance on Constance. The young lady, he said, was seri ously ill, so much so that he would have to deny Claude an interview un til she had been prepared to undergo the ordeal. They had extreme doubts of her recovery—her nervous system was completely shattered. Mrs. Blythe was at her daughter's bedside, scarcely ever left her, in fact, except while the sick girl slept. As soon as Constance fell asleep she would be pleased to see Claude and the Colonel in the recep tion room. The physician was calm and polite, but his soft gray eyes were bent, while he was talking, upon the young artist's face. He had heard much of him but seen nothing, and he had been some wliatcuriousto know the young gentle man whose presence, liis professional instincts told him, would be much more potent than all the medicines he could prescribe for Constance. But then he had to fear the effect of any shock, even though of a joyous nature. Sudden happiness is frequently as fa tal as sudden sorrow in cases where the nerves are in a weak state. They had not known whether the Colonel would find Claude or not, and did not like to even hint at his coming until they were sure he was there. ************** In an elegantly furnished bedroom in another part of the hotel sat Mrs. Blythe by the bedside of her daugh ter. She was waiting for the girl to wake up from the few hours’ slumber she had taken that afternoon. The mother was a strikingly handsome woman of about 45, tall and graceful in figure, and with an air of refine ment in her features which was some what heightened by the hauteur of her expression. So habit ual was thisproud look on her face that even now, while bending over the sleeping form of her own child, the strongly marked char acteristic was distinctly observable. The girl was unquestionably beauti ful, but the ravages of a long sickness were plainly visible in her white and drawn face as she slept. Mrs. Blythe had seen' the Colonel and Claude, and a consultation, with the physician as adviser, had resulted in the determination to prepare Con stance for the surprise of seeing her lover back at her side. The picture which had been a work of loyal love on Claude’s part, was moved into the invalid’s room in a conspicuous position, with a curtain thrown loosely over it. The society woman’s feelings had fought between pride of caste on one side and love for her child on the other, and the latter had won the battle. Iler firm resolve now was to endeavor to undo,as far as she could, the evil she had done. She never seemed to realize the enormity of her action until she was shown the por trait of Constance as she used to be. The contrast between the merry, pink-cheeked maiden of a year ago and the pale-faced invalid lying before her now was so great that it made her tremble for fear her ridiculous pride had killed her only child. A reaction set in and now, much as she had for merly opposed , the union, she deter mined that it should take place, even if it were a death-bed wedding. Her daughter should have the wish of her heart before she died at least. When the sick girl at last moved restlessly, and then opened her eyes with that tired and weary look pecul iar to confirmed invalids, her mother stooped and kissed the pale forehead affectionately. “You have had a nice, long sleep, dear,” she said gently, “nearly four hours, and I think you look better for it. Had you pleasant dreams?” “Dreaming of Claude, as usual, mamma,” replied the girl in a low voice. “You niust not be angry with me, I cannot forget him either wak ing or sleeping. As for my looks, I have almost forgotten how I ever looked.” “If you will promise me to be calm and not get in the least excited, I will show you how you looked not long ago,” said Mrs. Blythe in an affection ate tone. Constance gazed on her wonderingly. Mrs. Blythe met the questioning look with a maternal smile. “You must promise me,” she said, as she pressed a fervent kiss upon Constance’s lips, “otherwise I won’t show you.” “All right, I promise willingly,” re plied the girl, with a puzzled expres sion. Mrs. Blythe moved the ornamental easel close to the bedside and drew the curtain away. An involuntary start, an exclama tion of glad surprise, a slight flusli of color in the cheek and then the inva lid's face became fixed upon the pic ture. There was a few minutes of complete silence, which Constance broke by saying: “Mamma, Claude painted that.” “How do you know, dear?” “I know he did—he musthavedone; nobody else in the wide world could have done! Did he send it to you, mamma, tell me, did he?” “Kemember your promise, dear child, or I shall give you no informa tion at all,” answered the mother with a playful laugh. “Now, just keep per fectly quiet, and I’ll tell you a little secret. I have sent for Mr. Reming ton to come back.” “Sent for him, mamma? How could you be guilty of such an indiscretion?” “No indiscretion about it, my dear child. I sent him away from you and it was my place to recall him.” Mrs. Blythe put her arm around her daugh ter's neck and kissed her. As she did so Constance felt the warm tears drop on her cheek and saw that her mother was crying. ISIl JVU LU/Clly oWUtl. K111U lilclliliua, how good of you to do that when you don't like Claude.” “I do like Claude, and I admit that I have made a foolish error. 1 thought pride was stronger than love, but I find that I am mistaken.” “When did you send for him? It is a long way to New York.” Constance spoke eagerly,—questioningly. “He is on his way here now, darling, and I want you to try and get strong again before becomes, won't you?” “I am strong, mamma, quite strong, and your blessed words give me extra strength. I already feel much better.” “Would you feel well enough to see Claude if he should arrive tonight, dear?—remember, the doctor cautions you against the least excitement, and he would not let you see him. unless you promised to be calm.” “But I am calm, mamma. It would not injure me. I feel it would give me strength if I could see Claude again.” “Then, Constance, prepare to have your wish gratified at once,” said Mrs. Blythe softly, as her finger pressed the electric bell. There came an old time sparkle in the eyes of the sick girl as she heard her mother's words, the cheeks flushed again, her bosom heaved perceptibly. Mrs. Blythe whispered a few words to the servant who answered the bell. Then she returned to her daughter’s bedside and took the invalid’s hand. “Constance,” she said, in a some what broken voice, “I must ask your forgiveness for the shortsighted cruel ty 1 was guilty of when I sent your lover away. I have done what I could to repair the foolish act and have brought Claude back again to your side. May God grant that he is not too late.” A slight tap at the door and Sir Wil liam Jowitt entered quietly. A shade of disappointment passed over the face of Constance. The physician walked forward and felt the pulse of the invalid. “Your mother has told you who is here, I presume,” he said seriously. “Now tell me, Miss Blythe, do you think you are able to bear an inter view?” “Oil yes. Don’t you see how calm I am, doctor? Why, I feel quite strong again, and could almost cry for joy.” “Yes, but you must not cry,” said the doctor warningly. Then, as he took his leave, he said to himself, chuckling, “Just as 1 thought! medi cines in her case would not be worth a—a—continental, as the Americans say.” As Claude entered the room and al most rushed to the bedside, Mrs. Blythe crossed to the window and looked out. The tears were falling from her face, but they were tears of joy, not sorrow. When she walked back to the lovers she took a hand of each and joined them, saying to Con stance, “Today is the anniversary of our Saviour’s resurrection. Let us hope that it may also be the day of your rising from sickness. It certain ly is a fitting occasion, for to-day my own love lias risen far beyond my for mer pride.” Well Dull. It may sound paradoxical To creditors of mettle, But debtors have to be “stirred up”. Sometimes before they’ll “settle.” Should Braw Well. O’Mac.—The finest thing I saw in London was a perforated cigar. Mac’O—Holey smokes! An Easy Tank. Bob.—I think Chauncey Depew is even cleverer than Herrmann. Tom.—For what reason? “I have seen him transport people from New York to Buffalo simply by making a few passes.” A Healthy Han. Jawson.—Do you know Tompkins well? Dawson.—Yes, never knew him unwell in my life. An Involuntary Thief. A public park, a garden seat, an actor sat thereon, Ills gay attire part product of the season lately gone, For fifteen minutes there he rests, then rises to his feet. And with a calm and studious face he seeks the crowded street. But after him a horde of boys precipitately ran, And shouted out “Stop thief! stop thief! there goes the guilty man!” The actor wonderingly turned, as up the po lice came, And without hesitation gave his right ad dress and name. Among the boys a tall, slim youth appeared to be the chief, And he reiterated loud, “This fellow is a thief!” “’Tis false!” the actor hotly cried. “This charge is base indeed. In all my life I never yet committed thievish deed! "I saw him steal,” the urchin said, in making the complaint. “Way over in the hollow there I watched him take some paint.” “You lie!” the actor wildly hissed, beside himself with rage. “This is the greatest insult ever offered to the stage!” “Here is the proof,” the boy remarked, “be fore we let him budge, You’ve heard the charge 1 made, and now let each one be the judge. You can detect his guilt at once—he gives us all the chance. Observe the paint that’s sticking there on the seat of his light pants!” GEORGE EDGAR. The Collector. lie subject of this sketch is not the nuin who comes around on or about the first of every month wearing a check suit and a bright smile that seems to fade per ceptibly when you tell him to “call again iu a week,” or “let it lay over' till next month.” It is not the rent or tax collector I have in view, but that worst of all cranks, a collector of old stamps, coins, bric-a-brac and other relics of antiquity. Perhaps you know one or more of them; perhaps you have met the man to whom a battered old copper penny of George tlie First’s reign is a mine of wealth compared to a brand new ten dollar bill; maybe you know tlie fellow who cherishes a cancelled post age stamp from the Phillipine Islands like an old maid does her yellow pug dog, or a young mother lier first in fant. And possibly you are also ac quainted with tlie long haired and mildewed enthusiast who visits auc tion sales of second-hand rubbish and bids fabulous prices for featureless and limbless statuary; who fondles with affectionate reverence a wig that was supposed to belong to Cromwell’s first cousin, or worships tlie alleged toenail of some departed saint who died of La Grippe in the tail end of the third century. These men are frequently walking museums. They carry pocket books containing several hundred obsolete stamps from all parts of the world, for which no sane man would know ingly give up a nickel. They would sooner lose an entire year’s cash receipts than part with their collec tion. They have also some antiquat ed coin or other which cost them $50, hut which would not he accepted any where as collateral for a hair cut or a howl of pea soup. Then, if the crank is of a pious turn of mind, or rather, of a superstitious nature, lie is pretty sure to have surrounded himself with “relics,” such as gruesome looking bones, pieces of skin or fragments of “the true cross.” There wasn’t wood enough grown in the entire Holy Land to supply tlie pieces of the true cross that have found their way, in recent years, all over the world, "and if the alleged toenails of saints are all au thentic those sanctified people must have been veritable centipedes. It is said that a Minneapolis gentleman started in the lumber business solely for the purpose of supplying splinters from the true cross and lie is reported to be worth a fortune at the present day. uuuct/iuif; vajiuo i» a vexy acnsiuic and laudable occupation, provided current specie is adhered to, and I re spectfully submit that there is more solid satisfaction to be gleaned from the possession of a double eagle than from owning a pot-full of mouldyEuro pcan coppers that wouldn't buy a mint julep or a pack of cigarettes in any city in the United States. At the same time it is just as well that cranks who are fond of the antiquated money exist, as it gives us poor mor tals a chance to enjoy the current coin of the realm without exciting the en vy of these collectors. The love of antiquity observable in these collectors seems to come to a sudden stop when they select a wife or sweetheart. A statue a thousand years old they would venerate, hut a woman over thirty-five they would hardly respect for sweetliearting pur poses. The age of an engraving or oil paint ing, if measured by centuries, would thr<>w one of these cranks into rapture, but he has a strange prejudice in fa vor of youth when it comes to select ing a life partner. Well, we don't blame him, as we happen to be similarly afflicted our selves, but we cannot help thinking that much of his affection for ancient coins, obsolete stamps and prehistoric ! relics is sadly misplaced. We cannot j see how the hoarding of these reminis i cences of by-gone ages, at great cost of money and time, can afford one tentli of the pleasure that is to be found in the jingle of a few U. S. gold pieces or the rustle of some crisp American currency. J. S. G. Not a Bit Scared. Jnst jl frail and timid creature. Pinched of face and pale of feature, And seemingly the weakest of her sex. Five feet high perhaps -no taller, Not. a woma n t here is smaller, But of danger in the crowd she little recks. Nerves are weak, and brains are swimming In that surging throng of women. And t he spirits of the strong are giving way. Yet that slim and fragile figure Elbows past a crowd much bigger To the counter on this “Special bargain day!” Laura’s Little Brother. I have a young lady cousin whose company is much sought after by members of my own sex. I was a man after her own heart once, but 1 didn’t get it. She discouraged me so mucli that I couldn’t take heart at all. Sev eral of my club acquaintances have been paying court to her since, but no one has yet succeeded in carrying off the prize. From certain rumors that I hear I believe her little brother Eddie is one of the main causes of her fail ure to catch a suitable husband. 11 is sufficient to say tiiat Eddie is a small boy and lias a tongue. Also a facility for putting peculiar and unfortunate constructions on whatever lie may hear or see. When Mr. Golightly called the other evening and was shown into the par lor, Eddie sauntered shyly in before tiie visitor had time to seat himself in an imposing attitude. lie looked wistfully at the caller for some mo ments and then said gravely, “Aint you goin to make it talk?” “Make what talk, my little man?” asked Mr. Golightly in friendly tones. “Your suit, aint it going to shout?” “I don’t understand you, my dear,” replied Mr. Golightly. “Well now,” said Eddie, scratching his head, and looking the unfortunate young man all over, “when the ser vant told Laura that you had called she said, “Oh he needn’t call, his spring suit is loud enough to be heard all over the block!” Mr. Bondstock, the bank cashier, does not call on Miss Laura since his last painful interview with Eddie in the presence of the latter’s fattier. “Say, mister,” asked the boy play fully. “Isn’t our Laura stuck on you?” “I’m sure I—I d-don’t know,’’stam mered the embarrassed gentleman. “Oh rats!” replied Eddie, disre spectfully, “why, I saw her stuck on you last night—she was on your knee for over live minutes!” Worse, if anything, was the experi ence of Mr. Smartwit, whose second and last visit to Eddie’s home was made memorable by that mischievous youngster. lie broke in upon Laura and lier companion—just, as Mr. Smartwit was about to propose—with this probably true, but certainly mal apropos sentence— “Say, sis, ma wants to know how long that booby is going to keep you from supper!”_ Jilks. THE PROBABLE Last Words of Living Celebrities. Grover Cleveland: “I shall at least be free from the veto of the senate.” James J. Corbett: “I never t hought death could knock me out so easily.” Wm. L. Wilson: “Whither am I drifting?” Adelina Patti: “This is my last fare well.” John Y. McKane: “Good bye to Coney Island.” Cliauncey M. Dcpew: “Icannotspeak this evening—some other time.” Senator Hill of New York: “I never bore any ill will to Grover.” William McKinley: “This Bill will go through all right.” Hold. G. Ingersol: “I wonder if I was wrong?” Bussell Sage: “I cannot take any stock in the next world.” Ward McAllister: “James, see that my dress pants are properly pressed.” Walter Q. Gresham: “How far is it to Hawaii?” John Wanamaker: “Anything else today please?” Thomas P. Ochiltree: “I never took water yet and I will not do it now.” Tom Watson of Georgia: “Where am I at?” Lillian Bussell: “What! are there no marriages in heaven!” George Slosson: “Now for the long rest. ” The Prince of Wales: “I am about tired waiting for a throne.” Joseph Pulitzer: “The ‘World’ is mine. ” Queen IAUuokalmri: “IIow long am I to be kept out?” sam. clank. Banker—I understand you have discovered a mi ne of wealth. Broker—Yes, but it isn’t wealth of mine—it’s another fellow’s. RIGHT SAYINGS of Little Children. “I don’t like to go shopping in dry goods stores with my mamma,” said a five-year-old boy. “Why not?” he was asked. “Oh, because she asks the salesmen to show her so many things she doesn't want,” he promptly re plied. Said Johnnie Kingston’s mother. “I want to buy one of those new kitchen ranges. They toll me they save half the coal.” And her young hopeful, after considering a minute, asked, “Why don't you buy two of 'em, ma, and save it all?” “Now Bobby,” said the school teacher one day, “if it took ten men fifteen hours to hoe a large cornfield, how long would it take two men, say your father and uncle, to do the same work?” “They'd never do it,” replied Bob by promptly, “they'd be swapping fish stories all the time!” That was a bright child who, on be ing asked what ice was, quickly re plied, “Water, gone to sleep.” And the grocer's little girl's definition of sand, “something papa mixes with sugar." was as ingenuous as it was un expected. “Shall I have to get married when I grow up?” asked little Flossie of her mother one day. “Justas you please, my dear,” an swered her mother. "Most women do marry, however.” “Yes, I suppose so,” continued the little girl musingly, “and 1 guess I'd better start right in and hustle for a husband now. They tell me Aunt Jane has been at it for 20 years and hasn't found one yet!” n. o'd. PvlOCK spring Diaae l TI.Conly Pertectuomo. 1 seody and is, proper ly speaking, the main or “grand t runk” line of the whole nervous system. From it diverge the different nerves that supply the heart, stomach, liver, kidneys, bowels, etc., with their vital I ' m ■ ERVE CENTERS) OF THE HEART LUNGS \\1\\ i STOMACH \4l bowels It will well repay the reader to study in connection with this article the accompanying semi-plirenological chart, in which he will notice that the human head is carefully mapped out, with the various senses and or gans properly indicated in their re spective locations. It will be seen at a glance that every part of the body is directly controlled by the brain. The limbs and various organs are governed by it. Every motion of every muscle emanates from headquarters in the brain. The seat of intellect, that is, the understanding or thinking and reasoning part of man, is located across the front part of the brain. The other senses, such as sight, hear ing, taste, touch and smell, occupy positions in the rear of the intellect, as do also the mainsprings of motion. In the gray or outer matter of the brain, where these various locations are marked in the cut, are situated the nerve centers and all these are in di rect communication and sympathy with each other. They are in har monious accord and assist one another in the performance of tlicir respective functions. For instance, when in conversation with a person, it is not merely the tongue or organ of speech that is em ployed. The intellect or understand ing is engaged, the sense of hearing is concentrated upon what your com panion may be saying, the eyes are usually fixed upon him, and his on you, you move your arms, hands or facial muscles by way of gesture or expression, and all these acts are done [forces. These nerves are in the form of delicate white strings or filaments, and are to the organs of tiie body ex actly what telegraph lines are between different cities—a means of prompt, communication. No matter what muscle or organ of tiie body becomes in anyway affected the news is promptly transmitted through the nerve centers to tiie brain mid other organs arc liable to be af fected through sympathy. This is well exemplified and perhaps more lucidly explained in the. cut showing tiie relation of the eye to tiie sense of hearing and the organ of speech on another part of this page. It must be generally conceded that the clearer one understands liis mechanism the better will lie or sin be able to know what is the matter with them when they are sick. As it is, people often have symptoms of seri ous diseases, which i hey treat lightly, if at all, because they do not compre hend fully tiie importance of these disease indications, and, as they do not realize the danger, they neglect the trouble until it is often too late. With a better knowledge of their own con struction and susceptibility to diseases they would take far more precautions in the early stage of their trouble and thus prevent its dangerous increase. Physiological experts, we know, have been for many years experimenting upon the heads of the lower animals, such as dogs, monkeys, etc., to ascer tain the various functions of the brain. They have also examined tiie brains of people after death in order at one and the same time, though prompted by different senses under one government. First of all, external impressions are telegraphed, as it were, through the mediums of the ear or eye to 1 he seat of intellect, and orders are imme diately dispatched from there, by means of the nerve centers, to every organ whose co-operation is required. For example, as you read these lines, just move the toes of your, right or left foot The movement you find will be simultaneous with your thinkimj about it. Ho sooner does the brain to determine the reason of various paralytic and other symptoms that oc curred before death. Tims it lias been ascertained that different portions of i he brain control different parts of the body as indicated in the cut. These remarks may convey a popu lar idea of liow extremely difficult it is to successfully treat nervous dis eases unless one is thoroughly well grounded in the construction of the nervous system, and lias had a practi cal experience in the causes of disease and also their cure. Franklin Miles, M. D., LL. B. 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