mi1"
t '
THE COU.-i.t.
..: '-v v;.. ifmfKr
INTIME0FPBA6B.
(Martha Pierce.
Xbc mountains woro round ubout tho
plain llko a gigantic pair of horns. Be
tweon tho tips tho low red Bun hung in
a rich dim sky. Stur.tod sago bruth
Hung vivid bluo shadows on tho pale
soft soil. Wheeling in high, slow circles
a solitary eagle looked 'down upon a
lonely ridor who galloped away from tho
rain-swept mountains toward tho red
west.
Somewhat undor medium height,
lithe, mufculur, ho sat his horeo with
the ons3 of a plainsman, Ho might
have been takon for a cow-boy, except
for a certain orectness of Louring and
a squareness of tho shoulders which
markB tho soldior. His tlannel shirt,
his old slouch bat, his somewhat worn
trousnrs tucked into his Loots at the
knee, all failed to detract from tho dig
n'ty of his appearance. His ken eye
swept ' the great circle. No sign, no
motion of life in all tho distance The
sun was now but a red blur on the edge
of the world. His horse's hoofs were
muffled to indistinctness by the sandy
toileomo soil. He rode slowly looking
alertly about him. As tho last tiogo of
red faded from tho sky and dusk settled
over tho plain, ho checked his horse on
the bank of a narrow stream which here
wandered across tho arid land, a thin
thread of silver, margined with vivid
green. The horse splashed eagerly into
tho ford and thrust hid nosonoatril deep
into the cool water.
"Thirty miles my boy" tho trooper
said, patting the shining neck, "and
twenty miles moro to do. Aro you good
for it?''
The littlo bay horso lifted bh head
and turned his intelligent eje, soekiGg
his master, who laughed and reaching
forward passed a caresMng band along
bis neck, turning bnck to it9 place a
lock of mane which Btraggled over the
smooth siin arch. Then turning, be
rodo back to the shore, and followed it
a little way up stream, to a place where
grew a Binglo gnarled and twisted tree
in the midst of long luxuriant grass.
Here he dismounted, and throwing the
long reins on the ground left the horse
to feed, while be stretched his tired
limbs on tho soft grass and ate bis
frugal bupper.
Half an hour later when be went to
his horse he walked wearily, and after
he tightened the girths, he yawned,
strotching his urms over his head, be
fore ho flung himself into the saddle,
Splashing into the narrow ford, and
cramhling up the further bank, the
horse broke into a'swinging trot which
covered the miles rapidly. A thin
young moon cast a dim luster through
a sea of feathery cloudB. Through rifts
in the far deep spaces the stars gleamed.
The plain ppud backward undor the
Hying foet of tho horse. A range of low
mounds rose on the right, grow to hills,
and dwindled to mounds again and
these melted insensibly into tho plain.
Again the levels, and from some remote
place the dismal howl of wolves carried
through the stillness. The trooper
shivered and looked over his shoulder.
Bohind him stretched tho long miles of
half-lit plain. In tho weird light the
sago brush was white and ghostly and
the long cry of tho hungry wolves camo
to his ears liko the cry of lost souls.
He struck in tho spurs cruelly and
tho startled horse leaped into a wild run
which lasted until tho hideous sound
was lost and the silences of tho plain
again encompassed the lonely rider.
Thus on and on.
The stars paled and the sky grew
gray before he climbed a rise that over
looked a shining reach of rivor. I ho
courier Blood in his stirrupB and breathed
long and audibly, as ho caught tho
gleam of the water and his oyo rested
eagerly on tho group of tents on the
hither Bhoro, snow white in the dawn.
A sentry paced along the river hank.
Not far from tho tents a group of horses
contentedly cropped the short graBB.
The t rooper shook out the reins freely
and tie boree broke into a run, hie blood
shot nostrils dilated acd his ears set
forward alertly.
Suddenly he snorted and shied, then
lunged forward again. The next in
stant tho echoes of a musket shot rolled
and clattered in the hills across the
river.
As tho trooper reeled he tore the dis
patches from his breast and thrust
them under the saddle. As befell the
f entry's rifle answered the single shot.
The spent horse with a last desperate
effort, galloped on into the camp, where
men startled from Jeep were rushing
wildly for their horses. Tho bay horso
rushed in among them and stood droop
ing and quivering.
A trooper tore off the saddle. The
dispatches fell to the ground. With a
white face he carried them to his
captain.
Meanwhile a small detail got to horse
and climbed the rise from the river.
Moving forward cautiously through
the gray dawn they passed the clump
of brush where the soldier had fallen
arid came presently upon a dead Indian
with bis face on the ground, his arms
out-flung, hiB hands clutching the sand.
Tho lieutenant examined the hole in
his temple. "Done with a 32 revolver.
A clean job," he said briefly.
Turning back, wondering, they came
upon that which they sought. The die
patch bearer lay on his back with one
hand flung over his bead. The other
clutched Lib revolver. A dark stream
flowed from his breast and soaked the
gray soil.
His calm joucg face was turned
toward the mountains, above whose an
cient snows streamed tho rose colored
banners of a new day.
THE DUCHESS' DILEMMA
RESCUED UY THE A88STANOE OK UER
AMERICAN COUSIN.
RECONSTRUCTION, OP CUBA
The story of the reconstruction of
Cuba by Mr. Franklin Matthews, which
is to be published in the autumn under
tho title "The New-Born Cuba," is in
many respocts one of the most interest
ing books which the war has called
forth, and it may he said that those who
are sated with war literature may turn
to this book with the certainty of find
ing it a refreshing change. Perhaps no
more striking contrast can be presented
of the condition of Cuba at tho end of
tho war and at the present time than the
following paragraph from the chapter
"Havana Under American Military
Rule:"
"And hb night fell," writes Mr. Mat
thews, "with a sudden blanket of dark
ness, and the lights on the streets in
buildings, street lamps, and in hun
dreds of cabs dashing about like so
many fireflies, came out; as the throngs
appearod on tno streets, and the sound
of music reached the ear from the tub
lie square one of the most unattract
ive of all the plazas in Cuba and
scores of masked women were seen rid
ing to a dozen balls, it was interesting
to stand on some balcony and watch the
attractive and seductive life of the
place. The light on old Morro, across
the entrance of tho harbor, Bhot its
beams up the Prado, over the long rows
of Indian laurel-trees that line the
promenade of that famous street, and it
was easy not to notice the beggars, who,
after all, the children eliminated, wero
not more numerous than along Park
Row in New York in the summer time
at night, and it was difficult to realize
that tho city bad felt the horrors or war
in the starvation of thousands in its
streets and public places only a few
months before. Tho city was brilliant,
happy, and there was only an occasional
odor hero and thero to remind one that
it was not entirely clean,"
Her Grace, the Duchess of Alton, eat
one bright Midsummer morning in her
boudoir at Parley Towers. As she
gazed through a window over tbegarden
of rosea in full blossom, across the
sunken Dutch garden, with its quaintly
cut yews and stiff, formal beds, on to the
park, where deer were browsing under
giant oaks' she felt at peace with the
whole world.
Fate bad been kind to Her Grace of
Alton, "tho young Duchess,' as she was
generally called. It had decreed that
she should be born tho daughter of a
father who wbb not only devoted to hiB
children, but was also one of the richest
men in the world. It had given her,
with a happy disposition, more than her
share of good lookp. When she reached
a marriageable age fate had thrown in
her way a young nobleman who bore an
historic title, who had none of the vices
that .vulgar report credits to bis class,
and who bad gained for himself an hon
orable name in the country of his birth.
Today, though she had never experi
enced agrande passion, the younj Duch
ess loved her husband, and she had no
reason to doubt that bo loved her in re
turn. She had presentsd the Duke with
two fine boys as pledges of bor l flection;
the Duke's family was devoted to her;
the people of her adopted land, rich and
poor, high and low alike, had shown the
greatest interest in the fair foreigner.
In society she occupies one of the high
est positions higher than any of her
fellow-countrywomen; she had enter
tained the heir apparent and his wife,
and bad in Let turn been entertained by
the mopt auguat personage in the king
dom. And as Her Grace watched the
ro:es being rocked by the Southwest
breeze she felt that her cup of bappinees
was brimming over. That morning the
Duke bad received a letter saying that
the "most august personage" would take
lunch with the Duke and Duchess of
Alton and spend the afternoon at
Farley Towers. It whs ul most the high
est honor the "most august personage"
coul J confer on a nobleman, for since
she became a widow she bad rarely
broken bread with Southron subjects of
high degree, though she frequently
lunched with Northern Presbyterian
ministers and partook of a "dish of ta"
with Northern peasants.
There waB one bitter drop in the
Ducbess'8 cup. Her mother was a di
vorcAnnd bad remarried. In the very
exclusive society in her native country
of which the Duchess would have been
a member had Bhe not been borne away
to a foreign land, such a trivial affair
as divorce was lightly looked upon; but
in the country of her adoption it was not
o, for the "most august personage" ob
jected to even the remarriage of even
respectable widows; frowned upon di
vorce and, as bead of the Church, aaathe
matized the person who married a di
vorced man or woman. And bo the
young Duchess's mother was not a per
sona grata at the Court of tho "most
august personage," nor in the society of
ber Capita!.
But Her Grace of Alton was not
thinking of her mother as bIio gazed
through the boudoir window. Her
reflections, unalloyed with any sense of
care, wero suddenly interrupted by the
entrance of a tj, broad tbouldered,
bandEomejoung tdlowof about twenty-
three, with a tunny entile and n miscbev
ous lrok in his cloar blue eyes.
"Hero's a cablegram for your Most
Worshipful Grace. I mot Jeffries carry
ing it t jo j ou, so I thought I'd bring it
myself and hear the news."
Tho Duuhees of Alton tore open the
envelope, read tho despatch, and a look
of dismay camo over bor face.
"Why, Blanche, what's tho matter?
No bad news, I hope."
"Rad it, Jack." and the Duchon
tossed the cablegram in a most ungra .
ious manner to the young man.
Jack read: "Sail alono today on li p
Timbuctoo. Will go straight to Farl
on landing. Mother."
"The devil!" he added. "Why, sholi
reach here the day before the 'mo-t
august personage' pays her call."
"1 hat's just what she will do,"ar,.
swered the Duchess, in a tone that
Bounded as if she were on the point c.f
bursting into tears.
"Well can't you make it equaro with
the old lady? Get the Arch-bishop of
Rumtifoo to tell her that the Queen of
Sheba mado no bones about receiving
foreigners undor similar circumstances
or the Lord Chamberlain to swear he
has found a precedent in the twelfth
century. Precedents cover all the sing
of the decalogue in this country."
"Don't be a fool, Jack!" exclaimed the
Duchess, getting up and stamping hor V
pretty foot on the floor. "Can't you bo
serious for once? Where's Alton?"
"I left him in the gun room. Shall I
go and fetch him?"
"Yes; bring him here and we three can
discuss the matter alone."
Jack Repton was a nephew of the
Duchess's father. The young people
had been brought up together as child
ren, and were as brother and sister.
Jack and Alton, too, were faBt friends.
Having plenty of money and nothing to
do, Jack spent most of tho time, Biuco
his cousin's marriage, at Parley, where
he had become the "tame cat" of tho
household. A harum-scarum sort of fol
low, devoted to sport, he never did a
mean thing in his life, and was beloved
by everyone in aud around Parley, from
the scullery-maid to the housekeeper;
from the drunken "stopper" to the
Methodist minister; by laborer, farmer
and county magnate alike. He had
probably but one enemy in the world,
and that was the Duchess's mother, Mrs.
Von Donop, who would never foigivo V
him for taking his uncle's part in tho
divorce suit.
Why, what's this Jack tolls me?"
Baid the DukeuB he entered the bou
doir. "Your mother on her way hero?
It will never do The 'most august
personage' will think it is a plot on our
part to force your mother on her."
"It's no fault of mine, Alton," and the
.tears began to pour down the Duchebs's
cheeks. "You know," she sobbed, "I
didn't ask her to come."
"Now, my darling, don't cry," said the
Duke, soothingly. "Tears wont mend
matters. Let us quietly discuss what's
the best thing to be done."
"That's right. Let the meeting be
called to order. I propose and second
that His Grace, the Duke of Alton, bo
called to tb chair. All in favor say
"Oh, shut up, Jack! This ia too seri
ous a matter for joking," exclaimed tho
Duke. "Can't you telegraph, Blanche,
to your mother, on the arrival o? the
boat, and say that you will bo unable to
receive hor for a day or two?'' S
"Alton, Bho never would forgive me!"
"No, that Bho wouldn't," added Jack;
"and, moreovor, jou'd never ee a cent
310ii0i 00O0O0O0J0
Ladies' ining Hall. S
Meals 1 5 cents and up I
i
c
The UTOPIA is a
muiuujriuy up-to-aate re- 6
e, v
c
0
t
a
c
o
I
'J
sort for hungry peopl
especially the ladies.
Clean, cool, and invit
itiff.
D. n niYTflN 171 n
$ ft. D. DAYTON,' U I
6t0Y0O0Y00fl0KMC
IJIIIH II
rm